#i also use the word 'crimson' a lot in my writing (usually to refer to blood or passion) cos i just like the word but now more so for my da | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pan-fangirl-345 · 3 years

Text

Not All Are Bad

Summary: Dabi, formerly known as Touya Todoroki, was arrested. While being interrogated, he spills everything that his father did to him and his siblings until the day he disappeared from their lives. Now, not only are you and Shouto in danger of losing your pups, your friends are too. It's up to you and Shouto to prove that not all Pro Heroes are abusive parents and spouses.

TW: Enji Todoroki's A+ parenting (heavy 600 ton sarcasm), abuse, swearing, referenced child abuse, abusive relationships (not anyone from Class 1-A), nosy reporters, A/B/O dynamics (I don't think that's a warning, but I'm adding it anyway.), mentions of sex but not actual smut because this is a SFW blog, mentions of pregnancy, discussions of pregnancy. If I forgot anything, or anyone wants me to add something, please let me know! Slide into my DM's or leave a comment. I would hate to make anyone uncomfortable and I will change it as soon as I see the notification!

A/N: This just popped into my head today, so I figured I would write it out! Also, a little run down of how my A/B/O scenarios work is under the cut with the rest of the story in case these kinds of things make anyone uncomfortable!

Quick run-down (if you don't care skip past all of the italics and find the bold words and the space where the story starts):

Alphas: An alpha is someone who's alignment makes them a lot more domineering in certain situations. They tend to be natural leaders and don't appreciate being questioned by someone they perceive as lower ranking than them. They release strong pheromones that allow them a certain level of control over the other alignments, usually omegas, but there are omegan protection laws that keep alphas from using this to their advantage in unsavory ways.

They get ruts twice a year, which means that they just get really possessive of their mates and anyone they consider family. This is expressed in different ways, from your typical A/B/O scenario when they get really h*rny, to simply scenting their mates and family more than usual. They tend to take their ruts off from work, because the chemical imbalance in their brains can sometimes make them go feral.

*When an alpha goes feral they will attack anyone they perceive as a threat to them or their families. They can sometimes go after their mates or even their pups if they think their pups are hurting their mate. It rarely happens among families, but there are extenuating circumstances. Common signs include an excessive amount of growling, snarling, howling, snapping etc. Sometimes, depending on how strong an alpha's alignment, their eyes will flash a deep crimson. (Think Kurapika from Hunter X Hunter)

*When an alpha offers to share their rut with an omega or beta, it is either a related family members (or found family, someone they feel no sexual attraction to), or someone they have been courting with. It's a big deal when an alpha requests that someone they're courting spend their rut with them. It shows that the alpha is ready to commit to a more serious kind of relationship.

*These are the alignments most likely to impregnate an omega or a beta. Rarely are alpha x alpha relationships able to conceive and bring a pup to full term. (For the sake of ease, it's the usual nine to ten months.)

Betas: These tend to be your more neutral alignments. They can smell pheromones, but they tend to have less of a reaction to the other alignments. They tend to keep the peace among packs, simply because they are less likely to become swayed by pheromones. They can snarl and growl like alphas, but they also purr like omegas, they are kind of in the middle of the spectrum.

*They don't have ruts or heats, but they aren't sterile either. They can impregnate an omega or even another beta with little issue, though they have a harder time impregnating alphas. They also have a hard time bringing a pup to term. It's uncommon, but it does happen.

Omegas: Now, most A/B/O scenarios I have read make omegas seem weak and taken advantage of. Not mine. An omega can just as easily sway an alpha with their pheromones as an alpha could with an omega. There are certain things that are just courtesy when in public, and there are laws about using one's pheromones to one's advantage. Omegas also tend to have more of the maternal instincts, but that's not the entirety of their character.

*They are the most likely alignment to get pregnant, and they are the least likely to impregnate another alignment.

When omegas get their heats, it shows mostly the same way as when an alpha goes into a rut, but sometimes they also become a lot more affectionate with younger members of their family since their maternal instincts are on a high, and they tend to become more clingy to people they see as protectors, for lack of a better word, usually their alpha friends or parents, depending on the age. Alphas tend to get possessive, while omegas become more clingy and touch-starved.

Please note: Sex and gender have nothing to do with one's alignment. One's alignment is simply something that happens by chance and rarely makes one less worthy of something than another.

Children are called 'pups' but they are still referred to as kids and children etc.

Children start presenting from as early as nine to as late as eighteen, and it's different for every child. The alignments all have different symptoms.

Alphas become easily irritated, possessive, sometimes they become destructive or even go feral when they present. They also tend to run a fever, and their eyes sometimes turn crimson, even if they don't go completely feral. Female alphas don't get their periods. They just get the rut.

Betas just tend to have their scents change. Pups smell a certain way, but when one presents, the scent changes. They also tend to be more in tuned with their packs' feelings.

Omegas become touch-starved, clingy, and sometimes more emotion. They tend to get cramps and muscle aches. Think about a girl on her period, minus the blood. Female omegas don't get periods or bleed during their heats, and neither do male omegas.

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

"Touya, Reizo, come on guys, we're going to be late if you don't hurry up!" you called, laughing as your pups practically climbed over each other to get into the hallway from their room, Reizo with his sweater on backwards and Touya almost falling on his face trying to get his pants up over his knees and his very colorful Pro Hero Shouto boxers.

"Moooommmaaa!" Reizo whined, blue eyes shining brightly as he fixed his sweater. "Touya pushed me!"

"Reizo bit me!" Touya argued, face flushing redder than his hair.

"Come on boys, come here," you cooed, crouching down and gesturing them over. "Do you love me?"

"Of course!" they cried.

"Do you love Daddy?"

"Yes!"

"So you guys must love each other right?"

They glanced at each other, frowning, but flushed, telling you everything you needed to know.

"We're family," you told them, keeping your arm firmly around each of their waists, despite Touya being almost as tall as you. "And that means that no matter how much you fight, or how much you irritate the snot out of each other, at the end of the day, you love each other. Right?"

"Yeah," they muttered, albeit a little reluctantly.

"Okay then," you said, ruffling their hair softly. "And remember, no matter what happens, your father and I will do whatever we have to to protect you and your cousins."

They nodded.

"Alright, now Daddy has the car running downstairs, so we need to get going!" you said, ushering your boys out the door, making sure to lock the door behind you.

"No one forgot anything?" Shouto asked, climbing out of the car to make sure that the boys were strapped into the car properly. "Everyone has jackets?"

"Yup!"

"You have your keys, phone, wallet?" Shouto asked you, opening the door for you.

"Of course," you replied, buckling up, letting Shouto know that he could shut the door.

"Alright, well, we have to get going anyway," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple before he moved to close your door.

"Momma, Dad, why do we have to do an interview?" Touya asked, frowning.

He was your oldest boy, thirteen and a spitting image of his uncle, who he was named after, save for a white streak in his hair that covered his left eye, that he inherited from Shouto.

His quirk was a fire type quirk, and it relied on his emotions. His flames changed color based on how he felt, and when his emotions got out of control, so did his flames. Unlike what Enji had done with Touya, you and Shouto had taught your son to understand and channel his feelings so that he didn't harm himself or anyone else by accident. He was extremely in tune with his feelings, and his communication skills were through the roof, despite his age.

He was also intelligent, already having skipped two grades, and he was much more mature than most kids his age.

You supposed that with both of his parents being Pro Heroes, along with most of your found family, that he had heard and had to deal with things that other kids hadn't been exposed to. Not to mention that he had started taking care of Reizo more and more while you and Shouto were gone, despite both of you trying to make sure that one of you was always home with them.

Reizo was named after his grandmother, and he was ten, with white curls with (Y/H/C) undertones, and heterochromic eyes. One was gray, the other was the same shade of (Y/E/C) as your eyes. No one knew where the curls came from, but you were assuming it was from your side of the family, since most of the photos you had seen of Shouto's side of the family made it clear that it wasn't from him. Reizo's quirk was also some sort of mutation quirk. He was able to manipulate light at will, it didn't matter what kind.

One night, after you had woken up from a nightmare, you had checked in to make sure that both of your pups were safe and found Reizo sitting up in bed with a small ball of light in his hands. He had turned four a few months before, and while the doctors had assured you that he had a quirk, he had yet to manifest it physically.

Shouto had assured you, and vice versa, that it didn't matter if your pups were quirkless, you would love them regardless.

Reizo, even at four, had known that you were upset, so he had put on a little light show for you, and had managed to keep permanent star charts all around his room as he got older. He had memorized so many constellations and their stories that it made your head spin.

You and Shouto couldn't have been prouder of your boys, but that didn't mean that you subjected them to the media the way some heroes did with their kids.

In fact, you had tried to keep your kids as far away from reporters as you could, but you had also coached them on how to deal with them as they got older.

Touya, a recently presented alpha, had become much more protective of you and Reizo when reporters tried to stop you in the streets for questions.

Touya had never been violent, and you had been so proud of him when he had hung a reporter with his own tongue after they had gotten under Touya's skin with personal questions they had no right asking a thirteen-year-old.

"Because some things have been happening with your uncle Touya recently, and people are nervous. We're hoping that this makes them feel safer," you explained, turning in your seat to look at your boys.

Shouto's grip on the wheel tightened enough that it made a small noise, and you reached over, touching his thigh lightly.

"Hey," you whispered, turning back around, "it'll all be okay, we haven't done anything wrong. They have no reason to take the boys from us."

"I know, but he screwed everything up, not just for us, but for our friends too."

"Wait, what?" you asked.

"Bakugou called me to tell me that every hero with pups is going to be getting investigated, just to be sure. He and Kirishima might lose Kazuki and Eichiro," Shouto murmured.

"Fuck," you muttered, quietly enough that you knew your sons wouldn't hear you.

"Bakugou isn't exactly thrilled, but he's too afraid to do anything about it like he normally would."

"I can imagine," you replied. "But it's fine. No one from our class is going to lose their kids. We all love our pups, and we love everyone else's."

Shouto nodded, and you could tell that he was really trying to believe you.

"Hey," you murmured. "We're gonna be okay. Me and the boys and you. We're all gonna be okay."

He nodded again, and his grip on the wheel relaxed a little bit.

Interviews like this always made Shouto edgy, but he was extra concerned about this one and what was at stake.

He hated putting the boys in the spotlight, he hated even taking them to a news station, but he knew that you all had to do this if you wanted to stay together.

"I love you," he murmured, taking your left hand, kissing your hand lightly.

"I love you too Sho," you told him, smiling at him softly.

"Ready to walk through hell?" he asked as he pulled up to the building.

"With you by my side?" you inquired. "Always."

Shouto, as always, climbed out first, drawing a cheering crowd, and opened your door for you.

Then you each grabbed a boy.

Touya moved to stand dutifully by his father, and they both moved to your side.

You had your hand wrapped tightly in Reizo's, who was on your left. Touya, on Reizo's left, had an arm around his brother's shoulders protectively, and Shouto stood at the other end of your little line, glancing at you and his boys every few seconds.

Cameras flashed, and there were fans there to show their support to you and Shouto. Some of them held signs, other had merch.

Touya copied his father, his eyes steadfastly forward unless he was checking on you or Reizo, and his head held high with a confidence you knew wasn't entirely faked.

Reizo, on the other hand, was glancing nervously back and forth as you made you way inside.

"Momma, I don't like it out here," he said.

"I know baby," you murmured, barely pausing as you scooped him up into your arms, hiding his face in your shoulder.

Reizo was small, even for ten years old, and you could easily carry him in one arm while the other rested on Touya's shoulder, a comforting gesture.

Reporters shouted questions, fans screamed for some attention, and some people just watched, stone faced and blank.

Touya opened the door for you, and you ruffled his hair affectionately while Shouto kept a protective hand on the small of your back.

Shouto, who had been the first of you to meet the hosts, lead your family through the building, waving away assistance with enough politeness that no one got offended, but got the point across that he didn't need their help.

"Momma," Reizo murmured sleepily.

"Yeah baby?"

"Are Touya and I going to be taken from you and Daddy?"

"Not if we have anything to say about it baby," you whispered, trying to control the pheromones that were leaking around your scent reduction patches.

You had been straight with Touya about what was going on, he didn't appreciate being treated like a child, but you had sugar-coated the explanation you had given Reizo. He still understood, but it was terms he could understand.

"I love you Momma," Reizo said, clinging to the back of your shirt.

"I love you too baby," you told him, kissing his forehead lightly.

You and Shouto had declined the list of questions the station had sent you, and your PR managers had already 'leaked' it to the media that you and your family were winging this.

You had told the boys to answer the questions honestly, unless they didn't want to answer a question that made them uncomfortable.

You and Shouto had had a long conversation with the boys about this kind of thing, about personal information protection when being questioned, tone of voice, all of it, but at the end of the day, you knew that someone would find a way to twist everything.

Everything seemed to pass in a blur before you entered onto the stage, Reizo still in your arms.

Shouto and Touya were on either side of you, and you suddenly felt as if you had two bodyguards.

"Nice to see you again, Mrs. Todoroki. Mr. Todoroki, Mini Todorokis," Nariko, one of the hosts, said.

Shouto nodded, wrapping an arm around your shoulders absentmindedly.

"Nice to see you again too, Ms. Tanaka. I apologize for my husband, his second cup of coffee hasn't really settled in yet," you snarked, nudging your husband playfully.

"Dad doesn't function properly until nine in the morning," Touya added, flashing one of those dazzling smirks that would have people bowing to his every wish in a few years.

"My own son," Shouto muttered, making you laugh.

"It seems like your youngest takes after his father," Tatsuya, the other host, offered.

"Reizo does like his sleep," you agreed, rubbing your son's back soothingly.

"He's been spending too much time with his Uncle Katsuki," Shouto muttered, and you chuckled.

"Hey, when we were in school, you and Katsuki were the only ones that went to be bed before ten," you reminded him, wrinkling your nose in a teasing way.

Shouto opened and closed his mouth a few times before he pouted, tugging, very lightly, on a stray piece of hair that fell into your face.

"So, Touya- is it alright if we call you that?- what's it like? Having both parents be Pros?" Nariko asked.

"I don't mind if you call me Touya," your son said, looking surprisingly relaxed. "You guys don't ask the weird questions that some other reporters do. But, to answer your question, it's been . . . interesting, for sure."

"How so?"

"Well, for once thing, it's always stressful seeing them fighting on TV, no matter if it's a small time attention seeker or a high profile criminal. Dad has been my role model since I was little, even more so since I presented as an alpha. And I'm not ashamed to admit that I'm a Momma's boy," Touya said, sending you a fond look. "So I want to make sure Momma's safe."

People in the audience cooed, and you let out a small purr, ruffling your son's hair.

"What do you have to say to that Mom?" Tatsuya inquired.

"Both Shouto and I already know that Touya is a Momma's boy," you informed them. "Both boys are, though recently Reizo has been spending more time with his father."

Reizo shifted in your lap, slowly peeling his eyes open, glancing around.

He rubbed his eyes as they asked Touya a few more questions, before he crawled from your lap into Shouto's.

Shouto waited for him to get settled before moving to make sure Reizo was secure in his position.

"So, Mrs. Todoroki-"

"Please, call me (Y/F/N)," you interrupted. "We've been doing this since I was in high school."

"Fair enough," Nariko said, smiling at you. "(Y/F/N), what's it like for you? Being a mother and Pro?"

"The separation anxiety in the beginning almost made me quit," you joked, waiting for the laughter to die down before continuing. "But seriously, being a mother is stressful enough, but I was rising through the ranks, so was Shouto. We both knew that our jobs were dangerous, and we made sure that we talked it through thoroughly before we even got together. When I found out I was pregnant, we both took a few days off to talk about things. We both agreed that I was going to take myself out of the field, stick to desk work, that kind of thing, and then we argued on baby names."

"Speaking of baby names," Tatsuya said, making sure you were done before continuing, "you named your son Touya. Care to explain the name choice, given everything that's happened?"

You and Shouto glanced at each other, and you could tell by the look on his face that he was leaving this one to you. He wouldn't be able to get through it if he answered.

"Until recently, we didn't know that Dabi of the League of Villains was Touya Todoroki. Shouto and the rest of his family thought that he was dead. I don't know the full story, since Enji didn't like me to begin with, and Shouto doesn't talk about him much. Shouto was separated from his siblings because of his father."

You tried to reign in all the angry pheromones leaking out, but it was hard. You had never really liked Enji Todoroki, in the uniform or out of it, and hearing about the abuse over the years from Shouto and his siblings had lowered your opinion even more.

"Anyway, when we started talking about names, Shouto brought Touya up. He said, 'I want there to be one Touya Todoroki that gets to see all the good the world has to offer'. Once he told me that, I couldn't say no, besides, I wanted there to be one Touya Todoroki that saw what love was supposed to be."

You took Shouto's hand, interlacing your fingers, and your son took your other hand.

"You got what you wanted," your son told you, voice cracking with emotions.

"So, Touya, do you think that your parents are a good example of love?" Nariko asked.

"Without a doubt," Touya replied, almost instantaneously.

"You answered that very quickly," Nariko told him, eyes wide.

"For those who don't know, my quirk reacts with my emotions," Touya said, setting his hand on fire, the flames a bright gold. "The flames change color based on my emotions. From the first day that my quirk appeared, neither of my parents have ever lost their patience with me. They have both taken the time to communicate with me. They taught me that showing emotions isn't a bad thing, it's something that makes us human.

"My parents have never raised their voices at us, me or Reizo. Even when we probably deserved it, they've never yelled at us out of anger or frustration. Never. They've never laid a hand on us either. I've never seen Dad's eyes change color even a little bit when talking with me, my brother, or my mother. He's gotten mad at a few people who can't take a hint, but he's never been violent around the house. He's never yelled at Momma, and Momma's never yelled at him either. Not in the time I can remember. Dad taught me how to be a good alpha. I said earlier he was a like a role model to me.

"I watched the way he treated Momma and followed his example. Now I know how to treat my future mate, and how to make things work. My parents are a good example of a healthy relationship, love, acceptance, parenthood, and a bunch of other things. They taught me and Reizo that communication is the key to everything. If only it was the key to cooking, because I think that's the only thing neither of them can do."

The audience had been cooing at your sons little speech, then laughed at his unexpected joke.

Tears stung your eyes and Touya seemed to panic a little bit.

"Sorry Momma, I didn't mean to make you cry!"

"I know honey," you said, wrapping your arms around him. "I'm just happy."

He sank into your hug, arms tight around your waist.

Shouto rubbed a hand down your back soothingly, and you pulled away, wiping your eyes.

"So, Mr. Todoroki, you've been very quiet," Tatsuya said. "Why are you letting your wife and son answer everything."

"If there's one thing I've learned in the fifteen years that we've been together," Shouto said, "it's that my wife has a way with words that I lack. Luckily, both our sons have inherited that from her. Besides, I like hearing her and my children talk. I like hearing their voice much more than I like hearing mine."

"And you said you didn't have a way with words," you teased, and Shouto chuckled.

Reizo rubbed at his eyes, glanced around, and crawled over your lap to get to Touya, who let his little brother tuck himself into his side, yawning.

"Finally awake baby?" you asked, turning your attention to your youngest son.

"Yeah," he murmured, stretching before he settled down again. "'M not used to being up this early on a weekend."

"We know," Touya teased, patting his brother on the head.

"Rude Touya!" Reizo whined.

"Boys," you chirped, "save the bickering for when we get home okay? Let these people do their jobs."

"Sorry Momma," they both muttered.

You smiled at them, and Shouto shook his head with a small smile.

"Are they always like this?" Nariko asked, trying to hide a giggle behind her hand.

"Pretty much," you admitted, smiling brightly. "But they are our sons, it's to be expected that they get a little snarky."

"We certainly were," Shouto muttered.

"To say the least," you agreed. "God, high school was rough. We were such problem children, I don't know how Aizawa dealt with us, or any of our other teachers for that matter."

"Speaking of your U.A. days, Touya, you're in class 1-A currently, aren't you?"

"Yes, I recently got my acceptance letter," he confirmed. "I can't wait! I already met some of my other classmates already, since they're cousins of sorts, but it's gonna be great to see where Momma and Dad went when they were my age."

"And you were accepted through recommendations, but you took the public entrance exams didn't you?"

"Yeah," Touya said, nodding. "I wanted to show everyone that just because I was accepted through recommendations didn't mean that I didn't have the power to back it up, or that I thought I was better than anyone else. I wanted to prove that it was through my power that I got in."

Shouto's eyes shined at the words his son used, and you took his hand, remembering the words that Izuku had told him at your first Sports Festival together.

"That's my boy," Shouto murmured, leaning across your lap to ruffle his son's hair.

Touya grinned, fixing his hair.

"Reizo, do you want to be a hero?" Tatsuya asked him.

"No, I want to be a natural disaster first responder."

"Why don't you want to be hero?" Nariko inquired.

"Because I don't want to steal my brother's spotlight," Reizo teased, cutting a playful glare at his brother. "Besides, they're heroes too, they just aren't Pros. Most civil servants are heroes, they just don't have the same title. Momma and Daddy taught me that!"

Reizo beamed at you, and you couldn't help but smile back at him, wrinkling your nose at him, which he did back at you.

"(Y/F/N), Mr. Todoroki, do either of you have anything to say to the people who are questioning whether Pro Heroes can be effective parents?"

"I can't speak for all Pro Heroes," you said, your voice going colder. "But I can confidently, without hesitation, tell you that the entirety of my graduating class- those that have kids- are better parents than most of our grandparents were. None of them would ever hit their child. And yes, we're all training our kids to use their quirks, but it's to teach them control, and we aren't training them for battle. Our children are not soldiers. And I think some people need to be reminded that while heroes are capable of handling situations that others are not because of our training, we're still human.

"Every time we leave our kids, every time we go out, we know that we might not make it back home. I worry about my kids whenever I leave for patrols. Every time I come across a strong opponent, I worry about whether my kids are safe, whether Shouto is safe, whether I'm going to make it back home. And to those that are specifically questioning Shouto's ability to be a parent, I'm disappointed in you. For those that are more than willing to let him walk in harm's way to risk his life for them, but doubt his parenting skills, well, ask any alpha from our class and they will tell you that I was not an easy omega to get to know.

"As an omega that was almost deemed unbreedable, unmateable, for me to let Shouto anywhere near me should be proof enough, not to mention the fact that we have two amazing pups. Not every hero is Enji Todoroki. Not every hero is thinking only of themselves or their image. The reason we're heroes is to help the world. We're not looking for fame and glory. We're looking to keep the world safer for our mates and our pups. We're heroes, but we're human, we're parents. I'm disappointed in every person that ever praised Enji Todoroki for his parenting skills, I'm disappointed in everyone that was fooled by his 'hero' persona. He may have had a license, but when it came down to it, he was no hero, not in any of the ways that mattered."

You leaned back against the couch, tearing your eyes away from the camera, leaning against Shouto's side.

"I have to agree with my wife on this," Shouto said. "My father set the bar pretty low when it came to what being a functional parents as a hero looks like, but our class is setting the bar high. None of our friends have pups that are terrified of when they walk through the door after patrols. None of our nieces and nephews have ever hated their parents with serious intent. Every member of our class, which we all know is still referred to as 1-A, adores their children. Even Katsuki does, and when we were in high school all he cared about was being number one. He took time off from work to raise his pups, and if that doesn't speak volumes, I don't know what does. When we get home, Touya and Reizo always jump to their feet and hug us.

"Katsuki's kids are the same way with him and Eijirou. The number of times (Y/F/N) and I have been knocked over when we get home from patrols is insane, honestly. Denki and Hitoshi's kids are just like Denki, always smiling. We've made mistakes of course- what parent doesn't?- but that doesn't make us bad parents. My father was a bad parent, most of the time he was a bad person, and I made it my mission to not be like him in anyway. I think I did pretty well."

You took Shouto's hand, squeezing it.

"Our class is one big family," you murmured, "and every time the kids are with us or any of our former classmates, they always smile. Like Shouto said, we've made mistakes, and we'll probably make more. We're human, it's what we do, but we're trying our best to be good parents. Our boys know that we just want what's best for them, that we support them no matter what. We taught our kids that it's alright to be afraid of things, but we also taught them that we shouldn't be something they feared. Class 1-A wanted to be the kind of parents where instead of them thinking 'Oh shit, I can't tell Mom or Dad' we wanted them to think 'I'm in trouble, I need to call Mom and Dad'."

"It sounds like you did a very good job," Tatsuya said.

"He's right!" Touya and Reizo chirped.

"You all agreed to wing this interview. We personally watched your PR agents tear up the copy of questions we were going to ask you, though (Y/F/N)'s went further and dissolved hers in water, so you had nothing to prepare yourselves with. Why would you do that?" Nariko asked.

"Momma and Dad are great parents," Touya began. "We knew that any questions you asked us would have only good answers. They get frustrated with us, they get mad, but they handle it well, they never take it out on us. Twist our words however you want, but at the end of the day, that's my final answer. I wouldn't want anyone else to raise me."

"Same," Reizo said. "And anyone that thinks Momma and Daddy are bad at what they do needs to get their eyes checked."

"Reizo," you chided.

"Sorry Momma, but it's true," Touya agreed.

"My boys," you murmured, pulling them both closer, resisting the urge to cry.

"There you have it folks," Nariko said. "I don't think there are any other questions we need to ask."

"None," Tatsuya agreed.

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

A few days later, the interview was on TV, and you couldn't resist the urge to watch it.

You were home by yourself for now. Shouto was out on patrol, Touya was at the dorms getting settled in, and Reizo was at a friend's house for the night.

It was clear how much your boys adored you, and it was clear that neither boy was frightened at all of you or Shouto.

Katsuki had called, practically in tears, though whether that was from the sappiness of you and your family or the kind things you had said, you weren't sure.

Most heroes had been cleared of any suspicion, they had started in the higher ranks and worked their way down, so you and the rest of your class had been cleared already.

After you had all learned that you were cleared, kids had been dropped at grandparents' and other trusted family and friends so the adults could celebrate.

It had been nice to see everyone, and there had been a lot of tears (Izuku and Katsuki were the worst, though you had been close to them), but there had also been a lot more laughter and drunken shenanigans that you would never tell your kids about.

Your ranking, along with Shouto's had shot through the roof after that interview, and you and your husband had both gotten tons of fanmail apologizing for ever doubting, and other that said they had never doubted at all and that they were glad that you were cleared.

Shouto had been so relieved when the investigations had been dropped, like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

"I told you," you had told him one night, and he stumbled across the interview on twitter, along with someone's breakdown of it.

You were lying in bed together, his arm wrapped around your waist as you laid on his chest.

"I know," he murmured, kissing the top of your head.

"You will never be like your father, and you will always be my hero, same with the boys."

"Speaking of the boys," Shouto began, cheeks tinted a little pink.

"Oh no," you teased, pushing yourself up to see his face.

"I . . . I want to have another pup," he admitted. "I want to try for a girl this time."

"Upset that both of our boys are almost as devoted to me as you are?" you asked playfully, moving to sit in Shouto's lap as you both readjusted.

"No, I love that our boys love you as much as they do, but they are Momma's boys," he said. "I want a Daddy's girl."

You couldn't help but chuckle, leaning down to kiss him.

"Let's ask the boys in the morning," you suggested. "Then we can try for a girl."

Shouto beamed at you, and you shook your head at him, kissing him again.

"Dork," you muttered, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"I would've asked sooner, but with the investigations going on, I didn't think it was the right time."

"You're right, it wouldn't have been, but we would've worked it out. We always do."

Shouto nodded, burying his face in your neck.

"I love you Shouto," you told him.

"I love you too (Y/F/N)."

#shouto todoroki x reader #todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #shouto x reader #shoto x reader #fluff #tw: mentions of child abuse #tw: endeavor

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emerald-amidst-gold · 3 years

Text

OC Questionnaire

Thank you @1000generations and @rosella-writes for the tags! I love things such as this that allow me to flesh out Fane more! :D

I’ll tag: @oxygenforthewicked @the-dreadful-canine @varric-tethras-editor @noire-pandora @blueheaded and anyone else that’d like to give it a go! :3

----

THE BASICS:

Character’s name: Fane Lavellan/Aterian (The second name is one he’s rarely called until later on. Mainly post-Trespasser by those in his contingent of agents.)

Role in story: The Inquisitor (highly derogatory)

Physical description: Short, messy snow white hair and eyes that hold two colors instead of one (emerald and gold). Bears the vallaslin of Sylaise (full-face). Relatively angular face and holds features that are more indicative to ancient elves than the ones of today. Overall height is 6′1 and is far more muscular in build than other elves, but still slender enough that he isn’t mistaken for a Qunari. Entire body is littered with patch-work scars and has a singular, long scar upon his left cheek (inflicted by Solas)

Age: Appears 24 (approximately 5,000 years old in actuality)

MBTI/Enneagram Personality Type: INTP-T (Logician). Fane is very much like me in the fact that he’s extremely analytical. He’s always questioning and trying to piece together ‘why’ or ‘how’. Sadly, social skills are lacking for him, and he comes across as proud or insensitive due to how he words things or his lack of understanding when it regards to why someone might be put off by his views.

INTERNAL LIFE:

What is their greatest fear?

To be forgotten/Himself

Inner motivation:

Rebirth. Fane wants to see the world restored to what he remembers (i.e. before the Veil was erected), and he wishes for his kin to thrive once more, to belong to no master but themselves. The birth of Yune (the last of Fane’s specific kin) awakens the ideal of ‘hope’ in his heart and allows him to believe that what he strives for is possible.

Kryptonite:

Pride and Wrath. Fane has a volatile temper that tends to get him into trouble, on and off the battlefield. He is prone to bouts of proud behavior due to the fact that he’s lived for so long and believes he knows what the ‘absolute’ in the world is.

What is their misbelief about the world?

That everything terrible that has happened to him or that he has done thus far since awakening/being awakened is his fault, his choice. At the beginning of my story and in regards to the world as a whole, Fane believes he knows exactly how each person is (personality, motivations, ideals, etc.), even though he has no idea who he is.

Lesson they need to learn:

That his existence is not a sin. That whoever or whatever he is doesn’t matter. He’s alive and he is loved, he is important. Labels do not need to define him.

What is the best thing in their life?

Family (Solas, Mhairi, Cyfrin, Yune, etc.)

What is the worst thing in their life?

That he had to betray family to support family. Fane will do whatever it takes to ensure Solas is never alone again and that his kin can be remembered for what they truly are, but in order to do that he has to make decisions, choices and those decisions carry a lot of pain and heart break. He’ll endure, however. He’ll always endure.

What do they most often look down on people for?

Ignorance and faith. The faith aspect is mainly people wholly relying on that which they can’t see rather than the strength and independent thought that they possess. Fane despises those who use faith as a tool to manipulate or those who are willfully blind to the cries of the world and the suffering.

What makes his/her/their heart feel alive?

Primarily, Solas awakens the hidden or muted sides of Fane. Solas represents ‘the sky’ to him, and just a glimpses into the other’s eyes can make Fane feel as if he’s able to fly again. Having someone understand and know him for more than his rage and bluntness also makes Fane feel more alive when he’s used to feeling grey.

What makes them feel loved, and who was the last person to make them feel that way?

Intimacy of presence. Fane feels most loved when those he cares for is content to merely be around him, words or no words. Solas is the one that does this the most often, the two of them having had to use this level of communication in the past due to Fane being a dragon unable to talk or link up mentally with anyone other than spirits. However, Cole, Mhairi and Cyfrin also utilize this means of communication. Solas is merely the one that offers it the most.

Top three things they value most in life?

Devotion, Independent thought, and Support.

EXTERNAL LIFE:

Is there an object they can’t bear to part with and why?

A crimson sash adorned with golden embroidery of halla and leafless trees. It was a gift from Mhairi, and it was given to Fane shortly after their father disappeared and the experiments upon his body ceased. Fane wears it either around his waist or as a scarf. He’s usually not one to accept gifts, family or not, but he kept this one because it offered a lot of comfort where it had been lacking for several years. Fane also adores his sister with all his heart, and to see that she chanced potential capture to gather the materials...how could he spit in the face of such love? He couldn’t, and that’s why he keeps it even Post-Trespasser. He rarely wears it as he used to during that time, but he keeps it safe and pulls it out when he’s alone to remember simpler days.

Describe a typical outfit for them from top to bottom.

Fane gravitates towards clothing that’s loose and practical. He refuses to wear any of the clothing that Josephine or Vivienne might choose for him. To start, Fane wraps his entire upper body in Elvhen wraps to cover the myriad of scars that litter his body. The wraps are usually dark brown, dark green, or black. Next, he opts for cotton tunics, short sleeved or long sleeves, but he’ll have tendency to roll them up to his elbow, and once again, they are either dark or neutral colors (black, grey, etc.). Plain trousers, somewhat form fitting, and most importantly; boots. Fane does not go barefoot unless he’s getting ready for bed or bathing. He also wears a small dagger that he keeps strapped to an upper thigh. Just in case. *winks*

What names or nicknames has they been called throughout their life?

Fae (generally by Cyfrin or Mhairi), ma’isenatha (’my dragon’ and is typically used by Solas), Blackened One (this is the translation of Fane’s ‘second’ name and is used both respectfully/derogatory), He Who Flew Above (used by the Elvhen agents in both Fane and Solas’ respective contingents), White One (Abelas generally refers to Fane as this once he drops the Inquisitor title, Wisdom also calls Fane this), vhenan or ma vhenan.

And last, but definitely not least, ‘Papae’ *whistles innocently* :3

What is their method of manipulation?

Fane has draconic abilities that can warp emotions. In a way, he implements a form of psychological warfare, but he only uses it as a last resort whether the enemy is a piece of absolute trash or not. Fane has had his mind broken multiple times, died from it once even, and unless given no other choice, he will not break another like that.

Describe their daily routine.

Fane wakes up at the crack of dawn. He doesn’t like to, but he usually has no control over it due to years upon years of waking up from nightmares and retching. If he manages to awaken without many issues, Fane strides right into his routine of training, with or without eating. Training helps quell his mind of lingering terrors, and establishes discipline to emotions that are volatile. Afterwards, Fane may eat on his own, but generally, Mhairi, Cyfrin or Solas have to acquire something for him and press him to eat. He always relents, even if he glowers and growls. Cole takes a more subtle approach and just leaves it where Fane can easily smell it, awakening the want.

Mid-day Fane is usually doing his rounds, checking on companions, maybe entertaining a conversation or request, or begrudgingly diving into Inquisition business. (paperwork, letters, etc.) If he’s having a rough day, headaches, mental exhaustion, or physical pain, then Fane is less likely to get much done and that’s because Solas will demand that he take it easy. In those cases, Fane will fight and protest and declare that he’s fine, but a single look that says, ‘Enough’, and he crumbles, taking the offering of a pillowed lap and potentially sleeping for at least half the afternoon. When he wakes up, Fane lingers in the rotunda and with attempt some form of work until evening.

That’s when Fane indulges in more personal pursuits. He whittles wood, reads and writes poetry, tinkers with one of his gauntlets or plating, and lets himself want. He’ll sometimes go to the tavern to see Varric or the Chargers, even if being around Bull makes him a tad uneasy. Or he’ll seek out his sister and see if she wishes to do something with him. Fane doesn’t ask, of course, but that’s because Mhairi bombards him the moment he appears and he accepts and agrees without fuss. Sometimes Fane will visit Leliana in the rookery and go over what she’s heard or what he’s hear, or he’ll spend time with Cole until Solas comes to see where he’s gone off to.

Their go-to cure for a bad day?

Usually, training or just outright destroying something. Fane has issues controlling some of his emotions, rage most of all, and the only way to get that specific emotion out is to physically take it out. Solas and Mhairi have attempted to help Fane diffuse in different ways, but the only one that seems to work the best is for a dragon to rampage. Thankfully, Fane retreats from Skyhold if that he feels his mind blackening. Solas or Cole will follow and keep an eye on him from a distance, but Solas will intervene if he feels Fane is close to spiraling beyond anger. Then, the go-to is words, soft, but firm.

GOALS:

How are they dissatisfied with their life?

Fane’s life Pre-Inquisition and within Inquisition is...rough. Life with the clan was torture for him, literally being called a mistake and monster due to how he acted and how he looked. No one understood why and neither did Fane beyond knowing his father’s abuse had...awoken something in him. That lack of understanding infuriated Fane, to the point where he chose to just...ignore it, turn his back. Add that to the burden placed upon his shoulders unwillingly, and once again being labeled as every manner of being except what would make him feel complete...yeah, Fane was highly dissatisfied with his life. It isn’t until he and Solas reconcile and vow to never be apart again that Fane starts to find purpose and the will to try in his life. That satisfaction only grows Pre-Trespasser once Fane uncovers a lot of answers concerning himself and his kin after going on a little field trip to a place that shall not be name while Solas attends to the Qunari.

What would bring them true happiness or contentment?

Simply put? Fane wants Solas to be able to rest. That would bring Fane so much joy, to see his sky finally throw down the mantle and rest. All he wants is for them both to be able to be together and not have the world demanding their lives on a silver platter every second of every hour.

What definitive step could they take to turn their dream into a reality?

Support. That is one of Fane’s guiding principles when it comes to Solas and what the mage has deemed he has to do. Fane helps to keep Solas on the path, but he knows when to step in if the fog rolls in. Fane doesn’t see right or wrong; he sees paths, choices. He supports what Solas wishes to do because he understands why the man feels the way that he does. Fane is Devotion and Tenacity, and he will die again and again and again before leaving Solas to walk this dark path alone, without support. Because that, all on its own, can change a person’s mind.

How has their fear kept them from taking this action already?

Fane is only fearful that his support could be causing Solas grief, making him upset due to the fact that the mage feels as if Fane should condemn him. However, Fane presses on and doesn’t let fear shackle him in this. Fear is potent in Fane, that’s the truth, but it all washes away when Solas requires him. Devotion is stronger than Fear, Tenacity grinds Terror into dust, and a dragon will always guard the sky it calls home.

How do they feel they can accomplish their goal while still steering clear of the thing they are afraid of?

So, Fane’s main fears are being forgotten and himself. The supporting aspect is to combat the being forgotten aspect, partially, but when in regards to himself... That’s a whole other story. Fane grapples with madness coutnless times in my story and the allure of power, something dragons cannot yearn for lest they cause irreversible harm to the world, and he is fearful that eventually...the clock will strike, the hourglass will run out and that he didn’t do enough. For Solas, for his kin, and for the world. Furthermore, Fane is terrified that that madness will eventually harm those he cares for, those he’s vowed to protect and support. So, Fane does whatever he can to keep his spirit from warping, to keep himself from breaking beyond what can be repaired, and having Yune and Solas, and seeing the progress of their endeavors helps keep Fane on the cliff he teeters on.

#tagged #oc: fane lavellan #my son is ball of devotion~#and loyalty~#some may call him a simp but that's not the truth as to why he does what he does for solas #it's a SECRET! >:D #oc questionnaire #dragon age #we reject canon and support the wolf because sometimes support helps a person realize what's TRULY important :3

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imnotwolverine · 4 years

Text

My Masterlist

Author’s note:

Hi all. Here be my Masterlist! I write Henry Cavill + characters fanfiction and requests are CLOSED. Feel free to contact me - and don’t be alarmed when I reach out to you through my primary blog (https://imneonpanda.tumblr.com/).

Stories marked with an * are NSFW or graphic - read the keywords and read the warnings if you feel uncomfortable with certain content.

[ Read, like, comment but don’t steal! If you want to use my art for your fics, please send me a message❤️]

About me: 29, female, Netherlands. Bisexual, in a relationship and happy to indulge in vanilla fetishes. I answered a few questions, and here some more.

Drabbles & One-shots:

Masterlist of Fluff

Disclaimer: 13+ Fluff, bit of strong language, minor reference to smut

Masterlist of Smut

Disclaimer: 18+ NSFW

Masterlist of Angst

Disclaimer: 18+ NSFW, includes graphic scenes

Long stories:

Tea for Two* - Masterlist (Henry Cavill x OC - finished)

During her usual morning hike in the LA hills an average girl named Lisa meets a pair of starry eyes. A story of hiking, cups of tea and two sweet dorks trying to make it work.

Warnings: NSFW, slight bit of angst, smut, kink, unprotected sex, but also lots of cute fluff.

Word count: 100k +

The Girl Next Door* - Masterlist (Henry Cavill x OC - finished)

Henry is stuck in the countryside as COVID-19 wreaks havoc in the world, leaving him with little else left to do but getting to know his spunky next door neighbour, Lizz.

Warnings: NSFW, smut, fluff, alcohol use

Word count: 20k+

Genre: Quirky romcom

Good Girl* - Masterlist (August Walker x reader - finished)

Ignorance is a bliss, but what if you are just not willing to shut your eyes? You are a young escort who is dragged down into the abyss of big city crime, all the while also trying to find out: who is this Mr. Walker?

Warnings: NSFW, extremely graphic scenes (not for the faint of heart!), smut, strong language and August being an actual, feeling, human-being. *No daddy-kink*

Word count: 84k+

Genre: Slow burn sexy thriller

The marriage pact - Masterlist (Henry Cavill x OC Alice - finished)

Sometimes things work out, sometimes they don’t. The clock is starting to tick and 37-year old Alice just thinks that there is no good cake left for her - a feeling that she apparently shares with an unlikely ally.

Warnings: PG13, the fluffiest fluff (no smut)

Word count: 42k+

Genre: Romcom

The Monster’s Lair* - Masterlist (Vampire!Henry x Belle - finished)

An angsty adult fairytale, Beauty and the Beast AU.

Warnings: NSFW - Angst, vampirism, kidnapping, blood and violence, smut, graphic scenes.

Word count: 50k+

Genre: Dark, adult fairytale

A Devil’s Duet* (August Walker x OC Anna - August Walker is about to turn the world upside down. But he forgot about just one little detail. A devilish little detail. - finished)

Short Series: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

The Accidental Family* - Masterlist (Henry Cavill x OFC - finished)

After a motorcycle accident, Henry suddenly finds himself living the life he always dreamed of. There’s only one small hitch; he can’t remember how he got here.

Warnings: Memory loss - fluff - mild smut - mild angst and loads of domestic fluff.

Mood blurbs:

Digital art:

GIF sets:

Geralt in the green woods | Geralt the silver haired | Geralt picking flowers

Wolfie’s Fic Recs

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harmoni-me · 4 years

Note

hello it’s me again! thank you for fulfilling my request i just loved it. can you please do a continuation? like- reader starts receiving these anonymous love letters and gifts, this drove the boys (and the reader) to confess their feelings in the end. angst to fluff

Wow, thank you! I’m so glad you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it! This one is even longer than the last, so please have fun reading this one!

Nagito Komaeda x Sweetheart Reader x Kokichi Ouma Pt. 2

Crunch

Huh? What in the world-

Last time you remembered reaching into your school duffle bag, all you had in it was a comfy change of clothes for when gym activities rolled around, and a wet bottle of water that was dripping with condensation, but…

You didn’t remember an envelope, not in the slightest.

A nervousness started to boil over from your head to your heart, face heating up as quickly as hot coals on a cold evening. Is this… what you thought it was?

You’re stomach dropped at the realization, plunging into the depths of your being, as a realization struck.

This…this was probably not who you thought it was from.

In retrospect, the sting would only sink in deeper if only a single letter was given.

You weren’t satisfied, and that made you feel like you were scum, too dirty to even bother to be dealt with.

Even feeling a great amount of resentment to the silly thing, it’s not like you weren’t going to open it. You weren’t heartless when it came to the topic of possible confession. I guess you could say that the author of the letter made you feel something you haven’t felt in a while.

It’s was pure, unbridled, bitter jealousy. Jealousy that engulfed your vision, clouding all sense of realism.

Why could someone so anonymous have more guts about dealing with their crush than you? This person, who you didn’t even know, had the heart of a lion to sit down, write out something deep and personal, and somehow get it to you.

You were jealous, because you would never have the heart to do the same.

Once the bell rang to signal the last period of the day, you begrudgingly stood from your desk, knowing what you had to do. You had to open it, it would be extremely inconsiderate if you didn’t.

While you were walking in the hallway to somewhere slightly more secluded, you slipped the letter out of your bag. It was pure white, and it wasn’t made out of anything fancy. The opening was sealed by a simple piece of clear scotch tape, and when turning the message over, on the back was large, red letters that spelled your name in delicate cursive. You really wanted to get this over with.

“BOO!”

“OH MY GOD-“ You jumped out of your skin, dropping the envelope in your hand, causing it to flutter to the floor.

“Nehehe! I got you so good!” A purple-haired brat giggled at your jump of fright, rounding the corner he was hiding behind. His eyes then wandered to the envelope that was laid flat on the tiled floor, his eyebrows rose, and a smirk slowly carved his way onto his face.

“Oooo, what’s this little thing, hm? An invitation? A secret message?….” Kokichi knelt down to pick up the letter, fitting the paper between his middle finger and index finger. He got up all in your face, an evil smile plastered on his face, reaching all the way up to his eyes. He got closer to your ear, voice dropping, and his breath hot against your ear.

“Maybe…a love confession? Aww, how sweet…” Kokichi hummed, pleased by the steamy expression your face turned when you were embarrassed. Then, as suddenly as the actions before, Kokichi hopped backwards, grasping onto the letter with both hands, raising it aggressively high in the air.

“Ahhh! The anticipation! What’s inside, what’s inside, what’s inside?!” Kokichi kept on blabbering, waving the envelope all over the place, as if he was a child on Christmas Eve, shaking a wrapped gift to see if they could guess its contents.

When you saw the best opportunity, you quickly snatched the letter back from the naughty boy’s grubby little hands, huffing with a blush on your face once you retrieved what had been addressed to you.

You leaned your back against the hallway wall, which had now been abandoned. Slowly, you sunk yourself down to the ground, not once taking your eyes off of the red lettering that spelled your name in flawless cursive. You noticed upon close inspection that the lettering was a little smudged at the ends, most likely from Kokichi’s roughhousing with it.

A rough thump rang out next to you, making you look over with not much interest. Kokichi, in all of his nosy glory, had sat right up next to you against to wall, head shoved all in your business.

“Come on! Open it already! The suspense is killing me!” Kokichi was vibrating from waiting so patiently....to what extent Kokichi could be patient, that is.

You sighed, giving up. It was most likely anonymous anyway, so Kokichi won’t even know who to target ruthlessly on for the next month.

You let the tip of your finger slide into the opening of the letter, breaking the tape to the prized information. You carefully slipped out the neatly folded piece of paper, which was a thicker, almost card stock like texture.

Even before opening it, you could feel the emotion that radiated out of the paper. You suddenly had an image turn in your mind, of a person looking to be your age, carefully writing every word down as perfectly a flawed human could. Though, you could imagine them also grasping at their hair, crumbling up previous attempts, over and over again, as if disposing of their emotions, yet rebirthing it to be conveyed better each and every time.

It made you feel that much worse, knowing that the writer’s feelings are in no way reciprocated. You couldn’t, because the feelings to give back were already stolen in their entirety. By two other people, none the less.

Ironic how one of your two fattest crushes you’ve ever had in your life was basically huddling into you right at this moment, wanting so desperately to know what the paper read.

When finally did unfold the letter, you were met with beautiful, curvy handwriting, not a spelling error or smudge could be found.

. . .

To the one who my heart yearns for the most,

I’ve lost track on how many times I have written this letter. For reference, the bin next to me is now filled to the brim and was completely empty just two hours ago, but that’s not important, is it?

Let’s get the obvious things out of the way, shall we? I adore you. Though I’m keeping this anonymous, I want you to know that my heart has grown ten times it’s size ever since the day I met you. Every single attribute about you I hold as a precious keepsake within my mind. Every time you do anything, say anything, I want to keep it all to myself. I want to lock the sound of your voice, and keep vivid pictures of your smile fresh within my memories.

You, (Y/N), have made me feel things that I thought I had become numb to. I was unapproachable. A man that was blinded by his own psychotic desire to be used, that’s what I was.

You might think I’m exaggerating, but I believe you’re my guardian angle, sent to be due to God’s pity. Now that I’ve written it down, that was stupid, but I’ll keep it, because it’s the truth.

You saved me from myself, causing me to unsurprisingly fall in love with the one who made me realize I was a human, standing among other flawed humans, all having different lives, hopes, talents, aspirations...

Your kindness, no, your everything gave me so much room to simply breathe, and realized what I was doing to myself and to others.

Now that that’s out of the way, I would like to mention something I’ve...conjured.

I’m not very great at using my words, so that’s why I’ve poured everything into this letter, but you deserve to know who I am.

I’m scared, and if you do see me, I might not be able to get a good amount of words out but

In two days from now, after school, I want to meet you. I was thinking on the school rooftop? If you decide to come, I’ll be there waiting.

. . .

Wow

Who...who was this guy? And why...

Your eyes were brimming with tears, glossy from such words. This could be anyone, yet, what did you do? You were friends with many people, but not like this...you don’t think?

You suddenly felt something warm wiping away your now falling tears, gliding over your cheeks to brush away your liquid sadness.

“Hey, don’t cry...it’s not a good fit for you.” Kokichi then used his bandana to gently dry your puffy eyes and crimson cheeks. You looked up at the boy, who had the tiniest smile present on his face. It was almost as if that was how far the smile could go.

The sun broke through a window across the hallway, landing on Kokichi and his facial features. You looked into his eyes, but something was off.

Those eyes, they reflected a lot more light than they usually did, as if they were simply water in a pond. Was he-

“Well, that sure was something, huh?” Kokichi turned around, rubbing his eyes with his sleeve, trying to be discreet. You noticed though, but decided to not say anything.

. . .

When you thought things couldn’t get worse, you had totally jinxed yourself the next day.

You wanted to get your water bottle out of the your school duffel bag during class, because humans have to drink every once in awhile, but when you did...

Crunch

What...what even was that?

You honestly didn’t even want to bother until the end of the day with how you were feeling right now.

You were slumped, once again, in an empty hallway, browsing your phone and looking at funny cat videos to raise your vibrations. At least they made you smile.

“Is there a kitten nearby?” A voice had pierced the atmosphere. You looked up, it was Nagito standing over you, a face of half wonder and half concern delicately painted on his features.

You looked downcast, and you hated hiding your emotions, so it was plainly evident to Nagito how you felt in that moment, and he was heartbroken.

He placed his belongings next to you, along with himself, comfortably hugging his knees into his chest. He turned to you frowning a bit.

“You...only watch cute animal videos when you’re sad. Is... there anything wrong?” Nagito questioned, wanting to help you as much as you’ve helped him.

“It’s kinda personal, but your company already makes me feel better, so it’ll all be fine.” You gave the white haired boy a little smile, showing just how genuine you were.

Nagito hummed, nodding in understanding. He was playing it cool in front of you, but he really wanted to punch the person that made you feel like this.

It’s funny, because he probably has an idea of who...

“Oh, yeah, the thing...” You mumbled, reaching over to dig around in your duffle bag. When you felt the crunchy texture, you pulled it out, revealing something something that you honestly weren’t expecting.

It was a large pink lollipop, and it was in the shape of a heart.

It was probably as big as your head, and there was a clear, wrapper-like foil around the treat, preserving it for the consumer.

“Where did you get that?” Nagito raised a brow, because it was quite ridiculous how absurdly large this lollipop was. It was a funny sight though, seeing you side to side with with a sweet that could easily cover your whole face.

“I... think someone game this to me?” You thought, smiling a bit at the silliness of the situation.

But your mind wandered... was it the same person who wrote the letter? Then again, you didn’t think it would make sense with someone like him getting, well, this. Especially after writing something so deep and personal. This just kinda seemed incredibly random.

Either way, you started to unwrap the lollipop, wanting to eat some of it, even though you were most likely not going to finish the thing.

Resuming the cat videos, you repositioned the phone between you and Nagito. The boy took a glance, watching as he saw a fluffy white kitten get scared from playing a note on a piano, making him chuckle.

“You wanna watch somethin’ else, Nagi?” You asked Nagito, making him perk up in attentive nature. His smile conveyed so much care for you, as if you were his most prized gift he had ever received in his life.

“I’m bound to enjoy anything you would like, (Y/N)! Please, pick whatever you would like!” Nagito waved his hands, signaling not to worry about him, after all, you were the sad one out of you two for the moment.

“Ok! We’re watching Gordon Ramsay yell at people!” You promptly spoke, grabbing the phone and setting up the Hell’s Kitchen episode.

“Don’t mind me asking, but who is that?” Nagito questioned genuinely, making you gasp in surprise. How?

“He’s one of the best chef’s in the world, but he’s super strict with his employees, so it’s kinda entertaining. You’ll see!” You exclaimed, scooting yourself closer to Nagito, propping up the phone. You leaned into his side, taking a little nibble from your lollipop.

Nagito’s eyes kept on darting from you to the screen, having trouble with containing his emotion with you simply leaning on him to watch a show about...a vulgar-mouthed chef.

“Hm? What’s the matter?” You looked up at him, face inches apart from his. He didn’t respond, too nervous to trust his mouth. Lucky for him, you cut in.

“Oh! You want some?” You stuck the untouched side of the lollipop to Nagito’s mouth.

His brain and heart were on fire, and not a lick of logic was left. He pressed his lips against the candy, and sucked on a small portion.

It was your favorite flavor...he liked it way better than artificial grape soda, by a long shot.

After licking to his satisfaction, Nagito locked his teeth into the part he had been abusing with his mouth, biting off a piece for to-go.

“I need to go to the restroom, ok? I’ll be back.” He said, getting up from his seated position, making his way and entering into the boys bathroom at the end if the hallway.

You don’t know if he knows, but boy, you were blushing up a storm. He literally just gave you an up close and personal presentation on how his tongue did it’s work. Now, you didn’t really care for dirty thoughts, but after witnessing that, you couldn’t help it...

You looked down at the lollipop, now with a small chunk of it gone missing from the main snack. You examined it, and realized something so blatantly obvious, it was embarrassing.

Rapped around the white stick of the lollipop was a piece of yellow paper, and without much thought, you unraveled it.

It was a note, but it was short, and written it blue colored pencil.

. . .

Found this at a candy store, and bought it because you looked sad the last time I saw you. Seeing you sad makes me sad and stuff so yeah. I’m not signing my name here or anything, cuz that would just give away the surprise! But I’ll confess to you properly in person, cuz I’m better at talking. Meet me tomorrow after school, on the roof!

. . .

Huh?

Was this...the same guy? No, no it’s really couldn’t have been. The handwriting was different, the spelling was off, and they seemed a lot more laid back. Also, the author of the letter clearly stated that he was better at conveying is precious feelings by writing, while this one said they were more than happy to spill their own feeling with their voice.

So, you’ve got two secret admirers now...and both of them want to meet at the same place, and the same time.

Maybe this was all just some twisted, elaborate trick by a group of thugs, wanting to lure you in, then gang up on you like street cats when they found a lowly mouse to pray upon.

You’ll never know, unless you sucked it up and went tomorrow.

. . .

Well, there you were, on the roof after school the next day.

No one was there.

The sky was as clear as your blank mind, which you had forced to stop thinking about the world around you, and what you were doing. The breezed tickled your face, as if the wind tried to replicate the feeling of tips of grass grazing on ones cheek.

The only noise was the muffled chattering from students below, creating the perfect background noise to just...relax.

Until you heard yelling.

It was coming from the stairwell that lead up to the roof. You didn’t move a muscle, it was probably just loud, rambunctious students.

But it just kept on going, and going, on and on like a hyper parakeet who had a shot of expresso.

Well, since your admirers haven’t shown their faces for the past fifteen minutes, there’s nothing better right now than to snoop on the possible drama rumbling around in the stairwell. Might make a good story to tell someday, you never know.

You made your way into the stairwell, only to be met with very familiar voices, but you quickly made your presence unknown to them, hiding behind a wall.

“Kokichi! I told you not to not to get yourself involved!” Nagito raised his voice a little, but not to the point where it was just pure anger talking. Kokichi stood, fists balled up in pent up frustration.

“I know you did! And it was stupid that I did, but-“ Kokichi yelled, desperation in his voice.

“Then WHY? You knew I wrote that letter, hell, you were there helping me write the damn thing, but you go and do this?!” Nagito’s heart was the one talking at this point, because you’ve never heard his voice twinge in such genuine emotional pain.

But now you knew who wrote the letter, it was Nagito.

That didn’t sink in as hard as it was supposed to, until-

Wait, Nagito?

“Y-you don’t understand!” Kokichi responded, clenching his teeth from emotional agony.

“I do understand, and I just want to tell you that you’ve went way too far on this sick joke-“

“IT’S NOT A JOKE!” Kokichi cried out, a rasp in his voice becoming evident.

“Then what is it, Kokichi? Spill it. You know how important this is to me, and I don’t like yelling at you.” Nagito was stern, his voice dominating the purple-haired boy.

“Because...I-I...” his voice broke in sadness and so, so much regret. He suddenly huffed, opening his mouth to wallow out.

“B-BECAUSE I LOVE THEM TOO!” Kokichi sobbed. Thick, wet tears rolling down his swollen cheeks. Nagito was shocked, not saying a word. Nagito’s frown deepend because of the wallowing boy in front of him that he cared so much for. Yet, like always, he could never find the words to wrap Kokichi in warmth and apology. The thought made Nagito’s eyes begin to water.

Look what you did, you hurt him, you absolute scum.

“B-but *hic* I-I-I’m s-so *hic* s-selfish...I...” Kokichi hiccuped, trying his absolute best to get his words across.

“I’M SO FUCKING SELFISH, BECAUSE I LOVE YOU TOO, NAGITO KOMAEDA....y-you b-b-big jerk...” Kokichi wailed, a river of tears poring, falling to the concrete floor; the droplets staining the ground in a darker shade of grey when they landed.

“O-oh my god...K-Kokichi...l-“ Nagito started, hands shaking violently. This was bad, this was really bad.

And you knew that.

So you ran. You ran so fast out of your hiding spot, down to the two people in this world that you cared about the most.

And before you knew it, you harshly brought the both of them into your arms, causing the three of you to to collapse onto the ground.

You let it all out. You bawled into their arms, letting out your cries. Whether it was just from sadness, or of relief, that didn’t matter. You cried, until your eyes went dry, and all of your tears were soaked into the boys’ shirts.

. . .

After a bit, all was silent, except for the breathing of you three all mixing together. Your bodies were intermingled, assuming the best position for comfort and care.

You needed to say something, anything. You needed to tell them, or else everything will fall apart.

“I can’t choose.” You put it simply, the two other boys perked up, tear stains prominently showing on both of their faces.

“(Y/N)...” Nagito mumbled.

“I desperately need the both of you. So badly. I want to love you two so much I want my lips to hurt from kissing you two so much by the end of each day. I want my hands to cramp from holding both of you two’s hands so much.” You proclaimed, letting out everything that has been building up in your heart.

“I want to wake up with the warmth of two. I want to spend my days and nights with all of my love coming from two. And...I want to try each and every new thing life brings me, with the love of two.” You gasped for air, sighing out of your mouth, regulating your breath to its normal pace.

“I understand if you don- mphf!” You were promptly shut.

Kokichi had placed his lips on yours, causing a jolt of passion to ignite your soul. The feeling was delicate and new, but it was incredibly lovely You promptly kissed back, feeling a joy you’ve never felt before in your life.

The two of you parted with the kiss when the both of you felt soft lips gently peck both of your foreheads. It was as soft as a feather, yet it made the two of you go so incredibly soft.

You and Kokichi looked up to see Nagito, a small smile on his face. One of his hands reached up to your left cheek, while the other hand made its way to Kokichi’s right. He then lovingly dragged his thumbs across both of your cheeks, smile growing wider, while his face became rosy.

“There’s...so much I want to say but...I hope my actions can at least convey how my heart wants to treat the two of you.” Nagito said, his voice dropped, but in a more of a endearing tone than anything. The boy was still smiling like this was the happiest day in his life.

“I think it would be fun if we all had a slumber party as our first date.” Kokichi giggled, nuzzling into Nagito’s long, slender fingers.

“That sounds like fun, I think it would be delightful.” Nagito playfully pinched Kokichi’s cheek lightly, causing Kokichi to giggle, smiling wide.

“But we do have one thing to take care of first...” Nagito glanced over to you, chuckling.

You were fast asleep within the palm of his hand. It made him fall in love all over again, to be honest.

Nagito and Kokichi worked to untangle themselves from your limbs, trying not to wake you. They then promptly proceeded to place you on Nagito’s back, in a comfortable position so you could keep on sleeping soundly.

“You up for taking our little Cutie back to her place?” Kokichi snickered.

“Of course, love. Only if you would accompany me? Nagito stuck out his hand, waiting for the warmth of another.

“You’re lucky I really like you, clover.” Kokichi hastily grabbed his hand, weaving their fingers together.

As they began walking out to the main exit gate, Kokichi spoke.

“You know, I said a lie earlier I didn’t like. I don’t just like you...I actually really love you. The both of you. That’s something I could never lie about.” Kokichi pledged, the evening orange sky bouncing off of his face. Nagito squeezed the shorter males hand lovingly.

“I love you too, Kokichi. And not just you also, but the both of you. My heart will be forever loyal to the two of you until I rest in my own grave, remember that.”

#Dangonronpa fanfiction #danganronpa #danganronpa fanfiction #danganronpa x reader #nagito x s/o #nagito komeada x reader #nagito komeada #kokichi #kokichi oma #komeada x reader #kokichi x reader #Kokichi Oma x reader #Nagito Komaeda x Reader x Kokichi Oma #nagito x kokichi x y/n #nagito x kokichi #nagito x reader x kokichi

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washymylifeaway · 4 years

Note

hi! do you have any favourite fantasy/mythology esque sakuatsu fics?

Haikyuu SakuAtsu fanfic recs: Fantasy Edition!!!!

To the anon who requested this, you are an ABSOLUTE GOD. I don’t know if you know, but fantasy AND mythology are some of my FAVORITE genres of ALL TIME. STILL, I saw the esque and I ran with it (cause there isn’t a lot of like pure fantasy or mythological journey fics ie. my poor excuse OOPS LOL and I wasn’t too sure what would be okay on this list AHAHA), so if it’s not the right kind of fics you were looking for, I’M SO SORRY :((((((( May this rec list be up to your expectations!!!!!! (And if it isn’t, feel free to re-request :’))))),,,, ALSO, ignore me switching between Sakusa and Omi LOL.)

As per usual, pls check WARNINGS, TAGS, and SUMMARIES for each fic before reading and make sure you’re taking care of yourselves (since mental health is key!) Stay healthy loves <3

if you make me feel in love / if you make me open up by volchitsae (E) 6.4k // this is a reincarnation AU, and it has a major folklore/japanese-ish mythology (gods) element to it. This honestly MIGHT be my favorite from this list cause it’s just done SO well and I LOVE the reunion after the TRAGEDY :’)))) I’m trying to be vague cause I REALLY don’t want to spoil this fic at ALL, so PLEASE read it heh.

my love, take your time by bastigod (T) 9k // this is another reincarnation AU, but this time it’s with greek-ish mythology :’D However, the fantasy part of it is kinda on the back burner (ahaha oops LOL). It becomes more apparent near the end of the fic, but the build up to it is worth reading, which is why it’s here LOL. I love how they added Sakusa’s own memories concerning certain things, and how he collected pieces of them in the museum! The writing is so good, but also, I’m a sucker for Omi making lists relating to Atsumu hehe.

your flame will not survive in this cold tundra by awkwardedgeworth (T) 26.5k // this is an AtLA AU, but even if you don’t know the show, you’ll still enjoy it! I absolutely love this fic and the plot is really AMAZING and asihfkjahsdkfjak their DEVELOPMENT. Especially with the separation of POV’s in both chapters (and what we get to see which we didn’t previously) UGH,,,, it was so GOOD. (Their other AtLA AU fics are really good too, so don’t be shy, go read them as well LOL.)

one life, one encounter by bastigod (G) 5.7k // this is a japanese-ish mythology AU, with our first appearance of foxsumu. We do stan Kita-san and Sakusa being friends with one another in this house :D This fic was really cute and Sakusa is so baby in this (but in a GOOD WAY), and when he talks to Atsumu at first,,, HE SOUNDED SO LONELY LIKE I’LL BE YOUR FRIEND :((((((

give me a moment so devoted by volchitsae (T) 4.5k // immortals! YES! I really really like this one and I think that their relationship in it was SO cute. I am really into the idea of Atsumu being insufferable throughout Omi’s lifetime and them having INSIDE JOKES AHHHHH. It’s really light and fluffy so if you just want some love in your life, this is the read :)

show you my best disguise by volchitsae (T) 5.1k // this one has NICE Sakusa in it (which I think should be more common fight me) and their relationship with one another is actually good from the beginning :D I love how naturally it progressed and how we get to see the habits slowly build as they spend time with one another. Very good fic, but not lots of magic until the end LOL. (There’s also a lot of poetry LOL.)

both our hands speak for us and complicate it by volchitsae (M) 8.6k // MAGIC/superpowers :D FIRST, the puns are such a nice touch to this fic and SECOND we do love the yachi/yama agenda being pushed here. I really like the conditions Sakusa’s powers have, and how that added to the plot (and the ending for that matter, may there be a universe where they can touch LOL). Honestly, the magic is also kinda back burner for this one and it focuses more on relationship dev. but it’s still a fun read so I added it LOL.

Rain and Its Incendiary Properties by firtree (M) 24.5k // so we get some Sakusa turning into vampire backstory in this one, and the revelation of more mythical beings LOL. Bless Komori and tbh Suna for being some MVP’s in this fic, we do love the familial bonds :)))) But also, the knowledge at the end does give some second hand embarrassment so brace yourself LOL.

two slow dancers by orphan_account (T) 1.2k // AHHHHHH BLOND SAKUSA! Also, yes another vampire fic. What? Sue me. This is just a load of fluff and sap from Atsumu, and warning: there ARE twilight references in this one ahahahaha. (If you thought that with this many vampire fics on the list, you would be safe from twilight, you obviously thought wrong.)

crimson colored lotus by sieges (M) 16.5k // this was a demon slayer AU LOL. TBH I haven’t watched DS, but you honestly don’t really need to in order to read this LOL. It’s explained really well and the writing is AMAZING! It’s not a linear fic, but you can read it in order if you so choose. I know it’s a stretch for this list, but it’s just that good, okay? LOL.

how can I not be moved (by you) by Ann1215 (T) 26.4k // this has warlock Atsumu (with an actual REASON for his blond-ness that isn’t Osamu) and halfling Sakusa, who is eventually a sap LOL. I really love fics with familiars and animals so this fic was one that I really liked hehe. The ending? Embarrassing but we do love the love LOL. Also the second part with Atsumu’s POV, FLUFF like, yes please give me all the love :DDDDD

enchanted to meet ya by zantetsvkens (T) 4.8k // FAST BURN but it makes sense. I agree with the a/n at the end for the confession, so there’s that LOL. I liked this one because the tactful provoking was SO good and funny for that matter HAH. But Sakusa WOULD be more concerned with the window costs than Atsumu’s wellbeing (it had to have been said).

when morning comes we'll be safe by bestcarrot (T) 2.7k // another demon slayer AU even though I’ve never read or watched ds? Yes. Again, sue me. I know it’s teeeeeeechnically a stretch BUT fox demon Atsumu...... (Also it’s written so well I felt like I needed to add it okay? :’)))))) AND yes, I WAS holding onto the no character death (YOU SHOULD TOO), the close ending was scary.

a boy is a thing with fangs by unthank (T) 3.5k // foxsumu! ngl I’ll just be straight up honest with you all, I added this for the response Sakusa has to Atsumu when they’re watching SunaOsa play shogi in the next fic LOL. I thought it was so funny and perfect for that moment please. Just,,,, forgive me once AHAHAH.

Falling For You (Literally) by Anubis_2701 (T) 6.5k // clumsy Atsumu makes me feel some type of way LOL. This is another NICE, soft Sakusa fic (like i said we need more: me pretending like I don’t see the tag for it LOL) and it’s just really cute. There’s some medical tings that occur (cause Omi is literally a magical medic LOL), but it’s just very FLUFF hehe.

The curse of a blessing by basinnit (E) 7.8k // CHECKING WARNINGS AND TAGS!!!!!!! I felt like I knew what was going to happen, but DENIAL IS NICE OKAY. Honestly, it seems short with it’s 7.8k word count, but with the number of mental breaks you’re gonna need,,,, it’ll seem long. Also, yes Atsumu punching people (one person in particular) because I would’ve too and I love that person >:((((( It looks scary and confusing with the tags, but I’d read it anyway LOL. (If you’re wondering, the magic is that Suna and Sakusa are warlocks LOL.)

The Fox Prince by cinnamonlove (T) 13.1k // okay there are some INSULTS thrown (and lots of cursing LOL) and so TW: LOTTA CURSE WORDS. Aside from that, we see once again MVP Komori making an appearance, but also vulnerable SakuAtsu near the end :0 It’s definitely an interesting fic, so that’s why it’s here LOL. (Also it’s like fake foxsumu but not really,,,, you’ll understand.)

the echoing halls by ohwickedsoul (T) 11.7k // GAH THIS ONE WAS SO GOOD. To read it though, some background knowledge (or google LOL) is needed cause the mythology references are very strong in this one. But I love when Sakusa was so desperate (honor’d light AUAHFKJDHFKJS) and Atsumu was aboutta (basically) punch him LOL. V GOOD V CUTE IN LOVE? I AM.

Did I just take this ask as an excuse to read a crap ton of fantasy/mythology AUs instead of doing any of my other work? Yes, yes I did. Also, I know it’s kinda short (LOL NOT ME SAYING THIS but I did NOT (surprising IK) put some of the fics I liked D:), but I tried to REALLY narrow it down a bit hehe. I hope I didn’t miss too many good ones, and I’m sorry for not really staying on ‘topic’ LOL. I realized while re-reading these that a lot of them are just Atsumu like meeting Sakusa by chance and being like dang, he’s hot. Gotta bother him forever ig? Thank you for the ask, it was really fun and I hope you liked the fics hehe :)

#anon reply #SakuAtsu #haikyuu fanfic rec #haikyuu fic recs #Haikyuu fanfic recs #hq fic rec #fic rec #japanese mythology #fantasy #haikyuu #anime #manga #I love these fics #thank you for the ask #it made me really happy #i hope you like them #LOL #rye rec reply

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song-of-asystole · 3 years

Text

Crime and Punishment - Soukoku oneshot

Summary:

A demon once whispered to him of crime and punishment. He hadn’t paid it much mind – how trusted can a demon be?

His crime, among others, was betrayal.

The only aspect of the crime he left overlooked turned out to be the most crucial one – the punishment.

And the demon stays amused by the most pathetic Raskolnikov in existence – Dazai Osamu.

The author being an absolute nerd for Dostoyevsky and overanalyzing Soukoku’s relationship. Enjoy Dazai’s late-night thoughts!

TW: death, implied suicide

Author’s note:

I’m taking a break from my usual writing (which I’m super insecure about), so I’m writing this little fic because I hope you will be kind to me. Also, I just needed some comfort and BSD is my go-to place for that.

There’s a couple of references scattered across the fic: the obvious one about Dostoyevsky’s Crime and Punishment, as well as The Brother Karamazov and The House of the Dead. Yes, I’m aware I’m a huge nerd.

I actually got really carried away and I wrote 2 more chapters which I’ll post on AO3. Of course, this chapter will be up there too, I’ll put a link down below, so please give feedback. :D

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30342828

Enjoy!!

A demon once whispered to him of crime and punishment. He hadn’t paid it much mind – how trusted can a demon be?

Dazai Osamu’s crime, among others, was betrayal. He betrayed the miserable life he had led in Port Mafia, the life that had devastated him on the days he remembered he had heart under that cold, colorless ribcage of his. This life, if one may even call it that, deprived Dazai of a childhood, of innocence, of cleanliness: his hands stained crimson red and his thoughts painted pitch black. Would letting go wash away those dark colors, reveal the truth underneath, which was unknown to him? He did not know, but something had to change.

And so he escaped, with the night cradling him and the smoke of a burning car covering his treacherous silhouette. He had fled the winter of his life, days of bloodshed and sin out of sight and out of mind, looking forward to a promisingly bright spring. Betrayal is an ugly thing, but he had never cared much for looks.

The only aspect of his crime he left overlooked turned out to be the most crucial one – the punishment. Never had he dreamed he would feel guilty.

What am I really even guilty of? Wanting to see the light? Wanting to do good for once in this wretched life I lead? The days I spent swimming in the dark waters of despair deserved to see the end. Am I a monster for wanting happiness?

Hard as he tried to reason with his guilty consciousness, it never left him. It just kept gnawing at his thoughts, making him remember what, nay, whom he tried to forget.

The red-haired calamity.

The manipulator of gravity.

To Dazai, the giver of life.

Nakahara Chuuya.

At the time, Dazai could’ve never fathomed the concept of missing the redhead. Sure, Chuuya was important to him – as much as a person who knew everything about you could be. The two knew each other from the tip of the head to the end of the toes.

He could never not be important. Such noise is rarely ignored, Dazai mused jokingly.

Chuuya was what brought him life. The constant cheating, stealing and killing tramples the soul until you cannot make anything of what’s left. It’s what makes Dazai long for death – he’s seen the depths of this cursed city that squeezed his heart to the point he wanted to throw it away. However, Chuuya – just saying his name made Dazai feel warm – he saw it too. He felt it the same way Dazai did. He might act harsh with all his stomping, yelling, and destroying, but underneath all that is a gentle, nurturing nature that he hides. It’s a detriment in his line of work. Having someone understand meant a lot to Dazai. Maybe their partnership was even built on this silent understanding, among other things.

However, Chuuya was not nice. Don’t ever mistake Chuuya’s sensitivity with kindness. Sugar and spice was not to be in the same sentence as his name. He has always been… rough. Sometimes it served as a wake-up call to Dazai. It helped put things into perspective, but it also helped put things into bad perspective. Not a single morning did these two share without a fight – verbal or physical. Dazai didn’t mind it much at first. After all, teasing Chuuya did work like a drug for him. With time, however, the blade of their words never became dull. It only sharpened. Words like poison flung around the apartment, sentences like spider-webs sitting in hidden corners of the bedroom. Love – they never dared call it that, but, oh, what a burning love it was – love, the most sacred of all emotions, was a chore until it became a war. Eventually, Dazai couldn’t find his peace even in the arms of a lover.

So, his craftiness started turning wheels again and – he escaped. Not a word in the evening, not a trace in the morning, only confusion and hurt spelled over Chuuya’s heart.

Dazai knew it was cruel. He never felt right about it. He loved Chuuya, after all, so the best thing to do, he concluded, was to forget.

The demon laughs. Punishment has been passed.

Presently, Dazai Osamu spends his night awake, staring at the dirty ceiling of his room, as the most pitiful of the world’s Raskolnikovs.

Why can’t he seem to forget a man he once loved, a man he soon grew to hate, a man he betrayed in order to find happiness? What twisted force of nature is dragging his thoughts back to the time he was at his lowest? Why is it that now, when all hope of reunion between the lovers is lost, he finds himself longing for the infamous Port Mafia executive Nakahara Chuuya? Why did the ashes find their way back into a flame after he committed the worst of all sins – betrayal of trust and love?

The demon chuckles once again and in a sing-songy voice he says, I told you, Dazai-kun. To love thy neighbor is impossible. The man himself is the ugliest of all God’s creations – how could anyone love such a creature up close? Even the Father won’t cast a glance at him. It takes distance, Dazai-kun, and you’re not exempt from this rule of human nature.

It is irksome, yes, how right the demon seems to be. It is certainly irksome, Dazai feels, as the demon’s words carve into the left chamber of his stone cold heart. What even was it that made Dazai hate Chuuya? Hate Chuuya… it used to seem so impossible and yet, along with Odasaku’s death, it drove him to plan and execute a high-scale betrayal of the entire Port Mafia.

It would take years before Dazai could understand the intricacies of his past with Chuuya at Port Mafia. What mattered now – truly, the only real thing in this world – was the fact that he actually loved Nakahara Chuuya.

Oh. There. He thought of it. For some reason, he didn’t want to think of anything else but that. It wasn’t scary, as he thought it’d be, all those years ago. He finally broke the lock in his lungs and there it was: all that air he never let himself breathe. What was it about that mere word that made two Port Mafia executives shy around it, avoid it like the authorities, dance around it as if it was bonfire in the festival night? Why had they never let the simple four-letter word into their little sanctuary when it so obviously belonged with them? The fear he once felt seemed foolish to him now.

I guess we do learn as long as we live, he whispers in the dark room to no one in particular.

He felt a rush trying to sweep him up, make him stand. However, where would he go? To Chuuya? As if. He hurt Chuuya in unspeakable ways even during the time they spent together. He has no right to show up at his doorstep or in his life. Ever again.

Even if he did, how would that end? They squeezed each other’s hearts dry and called it love. Every day felt like torture, but they swore it was sweet. Why, why, why did they cause so much pain? Was it truly the only method to make them feel alive in the house of the dead? Did the right answer slip between their fingers at some point?

The question Dazai had been stuck on was, Is there any way he could forgive me? If, once in the future, I looked him in the eye and told him the truth – would there be salvation pouring from his lips? Or would he rightfully convict me for my crime?

Thus, Dazai fell into slumber, like every other evening for the past four years. The bed will never feel comfortable to him because it always seems to be missing something, but Dazai will keep denying it. His little room doesn’t even look like a home, but Dazai will tell you that he just can’t be bothered to unpack and decorate. His heart, cold like a Russian blizzard, has not known warmth in a while, but he will tell you it’s incapable to do so.

Those are the only three lies Dazai Osamu tells people and himself – until the night comes again and unlocks a little door in his brain.

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theheavenlymoon · 3 years

Text

I totally did this out of order, so let’s try this again!

I would like you to meet Uzuki Hanako! (うづき- Uzuki はなこ- Hanako)

(My first introduction was a hot mess, so I wanted re edit that one and put up this one instead!)

(I can’t draw for crap so I’m using picrew.)

This will basically be me talking about her rather than all the fandoms she’s in. I’m gonna be making post about her and the fandoms later, but for now it’s all about her!

First Name: Hanako

Last Name: Uzuki

Gender: Female

Race: Demigod

Age: ??? (Depending on the fandom, her age changes)

Birthday: December 27

Zodiac: Capricorn

Height: 6’3.3

Sexuality: Bisexual

JP CV: Ami Koshimizu

ENG CV: Amanda Céline Miller

FRENCH CV: Indila

(Couldn’t find a Greek CV 😔)

Nicknames: Shachi-chan (Floyd), Child of Hearth (Malleus), Ms.Herbivore (Leona), Princess, Wifey (Gojo)

Favorite food: Cheesecake, literally anything sweet

Least favorite food: Hummus, mushrooms, candy, and beans

Likes: family/friends, cooking, singing really loud to her music, working out, making clothes, nail polish, memes/vines, rain/cloudy weather, animals, purple, doing anything around the house, video games, anime, fictional books, roughhousing, and day dreaming about her crush/significant other

Dislikes: Fights between friends and family, Candy, crying in front of people, and bookshelves

Since I can’t draw I have to use picrew, but sadly some of the makers that I find have limited options so allow me to go into detail about her looks. (I’ll probably make another post about her abilities later)

Hanako has bright gold eyes and long lavender hair that goes all the way down to her mid thigh. She has two beauty marks, one under her right eye and one on the left side of her lip. Her signature hair style is space buns with the rest of her hair down in the back. Like I’ve said before, I can’t draw so I’m using characters I know as reference! This is what her body looks like.

(^ This is Flare, a character from fairy tail! I recommend watching it if you have time. Fairy tail is a very long series, but it’s really good!)

(I’m pretty sure you can look at almost all the women in Fairy tail and get the idea.)

Obviously I know that Hestia doesn’t have any demigod kids but demigods don’t have to be born the normal way. Hanako was born from fire and was given to her father. With that being said, when Hana was first claimed she was given a fire place poker but traded it in for a sword so she it could help control her pyrokinesis. (Her sword is disguised as a charm bracelet!)

As for her sword...

Hana’s sword helps her control her pyrokinesis a little better and it’s fun to try and see who can pick it up. Her sword can reach up to about 2000°F (1093°C). She has a few special moves but those are for another time.

Although Hana acts like her mom in some moments, she met Apollo and Hermes when she was quite young and those two have had a big impression on her personality. One moment she giving motherly advice, and the next moment she screaming vines across the room.

Random facts about Hanako 🌸✨

Since Hana means flower I use cherry blossoms and lavender to represent her.

Has a huge soft spot for children!

Hanako is super understanding and open. Wanna try something new? She’ll come with you, so you aren’t lonely and scared. Skydiving? What time are we leaving? Want to be left alone? Call her if you need something! Wanna try working out? She’ll be your personal trainer! Feeling down? She’s coming over with movies and snacks! Can’t make it to game night? It’s alright just be safe with whatever your doing!

Once Hanako falls, she falls hard.(Romantically speaking) She is a SIMP. She’ll wear the most giddiest smile after talking with them. Probably screamed in her pillows at least a few times. “They make my heart beat so fast, and they make me feel like the happiest girl in the world!!” - Hanako.

Attempts her best not to be obvious about her crush, and for the most part it works. Until anything other than platonic stuff comes up. Her face is gonna turn crimson if ANYONE mentions her crush in not so platonic ways, gods forbid anything even more intimate. Children of Hestia are so shy when the idea of sexual things is even bought up that they blush deeply and cannot articulate any coherent words, and any fire nearby also turns crimson as if it were blushing like the child of Hestia. This shyness is amplified if they are around their crush.

Gets kind of anxious when she’s beside a bookshelf.

She’s a smart ass. It’s gotten to the point where she does it automatically. It doesn’t even have time to process, it just comes out.

Hana is actually really good at acting and singing. She was in a few commercials and videos when she was younger but only as background characters.

Hana is amazing with kids. She grew up with 3 little brothers before she was moved into the orphanage, which meant even more kids to watch over. (she takes her big sister role very seriously)

Since she was born from fire, she can raise her body temperature up if she wanted too, and she rarely gets hot or cold. Heat based attack have no effect on her. Hana’s hugs feel like a warm blanket wrapped around you while sitting next to a fireplace, all in all just really comforting

Hana grew up around a lot of guys and so she calls everyone ‘bro’ and ‘dude’ a lot. She has a few friends who are girls but most of them are guys. That being said, she grew up rough housing and yelling.

Hana also comes from a very affectionate family. (Hugs, kisses, feeding food to each other, smashing food into someone’s face, etc.) So it’s not uncommon to see Hana tackle all of her friends into hugs and kisses.(platonically)

Hana also likes to tease a lot (curtsy of Hermes) so don’t be surprised when she tease about you burning food.

Is super flexible. I’m talking like, Mitsuri flexible. Her friends have at least saw her in the scorpion pose a few times. The more flexible she is, the easier it is to move in battle.

The woman is a tree. I’m pretty sure all of her lovers (with the exception of Gojo) are shorter than her.

She can not, for the life of her, wear heels. Anything above a 3 inch that isn’t thick, would make her snap an ankle. Besides she’s already tall enough

In terms of anger, Hana has the patience of a saint. She still gets annoyed here and there, but very rarely does she get genuinely angry. On the rare occasion that she is angry, she gets pretty violent. Veins showing from her forehead, her body temperature spikes, and she wears one of the most nastiest glare ever. (from what she’s been told) Only a select few have seen her mad.

When thrown into a new situation (or a new world-) that isn’t familiar, Hana will come off a bit sarcastic (more than usual) and aloof. She wants to get a feel for her surroundings before she can actually be herself. Give her some time to come around and she’ll be back to hyper and happy.

Hana has a bunch of hobbies. She plays volleyball and is known as the queen of the court. She loves to paint her fingernails and her toes as well. Her cooking is top tier! As a Hestia child obviously she would excel at anything that has to do with domestic and home type things.

She 100% would/will make her own dress. Once made a huge ball gown dress because none of the place had what she was looking for.

When she isn’t doing any of her hobbies she’s working out and practicing her pyrokinesis. Hana trained a lot back where she was from, so she could master her pyrokinesis and her sword. She’s gotten to the point where she can lift a car. Just because she’s in a different place doesn’t give her the excuse to slack off!!

Ironically her mother is a virginal goddess and isn’t married to anyone. Hana on the other hand, wants to get married and have kids. She shooting for 4 but it all depends on what her partner wants. (2,6,8 it just depends)

Hestia children can induce serenity and make tense situations a lot more calmer. Hanako has defeated a lot of enemies and monsters this way.

Hanako knows 4 different languages. English, Japanese, Greek, and French. She was taught Japanese by her father and Greek by her mother. She learned French and English herself

Even though Hana loves to do girly things, makeup is not one of them. She always thought it was pretty cool but she never had the time to sit down and practice it.

Thank you for reading✨ I had a lot of fun making this and I can’t wait to write more stuff about her! I’ll probably have to learn how to make a master post so her stuff is easier to access. If you have any questions about Hana my inbox is open, or you can message me in private, either way works!

I hope you stick around for more content with Hanako! 🌸🔥✨

#Hanako Uzuki #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twst #ocs #twst oc #twst x oc #genshin impact oc #genshin inpact #genshin impact x oc #jjk oc #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x oc #demon slayer oc #demon slayer #demon slayer x oc #obey me oc #obey me #obey me x oc

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orionwhispers · 5 years

Text

Fools Gold // Tommy Shelby

(A/N - ok. i started this imagine in december but then life happened and here we are almost in march. this took a really long time to write and im honestly kind of iffy about it but i hope you guys like it. also side note - tommy is a MASSIVE dick in this and do not let a boy/girl/anyone treat you like this - this is purely fiction and irl if someone uses you like this then they are trash. also second side note im mean to grace in this but I have a lot of feelings ok. LOVE U GUYS)

Thomas Shelby needed a distraction.

His mind was hazy, like looking through a cloud of smoke. He saw Grace everywhere. Sunshine coloured hair reflecting on the grey puddles in the street, sapphire blue eyes watching him from the bluebells sitting on Polly’s desk, her soft laughter in his ears whenever he heard a bell chime. He wanted a distraction. He wanted a quick fix, something soft and warm that would fill the emptiness of his bed and the hole in his heart, but he never imagined just what that would cost.

The first time he saw you was on a Wednesday. The clouds were silver and the air was cold, and London was a welcome change in scenery. He was visiting Ada, in the city for business but wanting to see the kind face of his sister, some softness in his world of sharp. It was late at night, the moon round and full and the library almost empty, and he nodded at his sister in greeting as she filed away the last of the novels.

“Tommy.” She smiled, with rosy cheeks and tousled hair. “Let me just grab my coat and we’ll be off.”

She turned to speak to someone, and Tommy impatiently tapped his clipped fingernails along the edge of a desk, his brain always working, mentally relieving business deals in his head as he waited. He listened to the low hum of the roads outside and the incessant flickering of a street lamp through the window, turning slowly at the sound of footsteps approaching.

His breath hitched in his throat.

Standing beside his sister, all kind eyed and ink stained and sweet as strawberry ice cream was a girl. A girl that for the first time in a long time, made the memories in his brain curl off and vanish like wisps of smoke.

A girl that could be the perfect distraction.

“Are you sure you’ll be alright closing up? I’m sorry to rush off like this.” He didn’t register his sisters voice, his ocean blue eyes trained on you, with your cherry bitten lips and pink polished fingernails.

“Oh Ada, I’m fine. Have a lovely time.” You replied, voice just as honeyed as the rest of you. You gave Tommy a soft smile, wringing your hands together, slightly uncomfortable with the attention you had accidentally drawn to yourself.

He stepped forward without a second thought, his palm outstretched. You blinked back at him, like a deer caught in headlights. Ada had spoken about her brother; how he could sweet talk the devil, and how he was destined to rule the world with his golden mind and silver tongue. You had been intimidated by her words, and standing before him you felt utterly, hopelessly, mortal.

You tried to hide your nerves as you shook his hand, his large fingers engulfing yours and sending sparks down your spine. His blue eyes reminded you of the ocean, like a stormy sea and the smell of salt, and you were worried you might just drown. He wasn’t handsome. He was beautiful.

“My apologies for stealing my sister away.” He said, his voice even and still, warm like a summer breeze. “I’m Tommy.”

“(Y/N).” You replied, trying not to falter under his unwavering stare.

“Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, (Y/N).”

You held his gaze for as long as you could, feeling a blush rise to your cheeks and your neck grow hot. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking, and that was what unsettled you the most. You had never been in the presence of someone so powerful and striking, and you felt so small next to him.

After a moment you pulled away, biting your lip gently and motioning to the overflowing bookshelves around you. “I should get back, it was nice to meet you. Have a nice night, Ada.” You smiled at your friend, before turning on your heel and walking away, feeling eyes bore into your back.

Tommy watched as you left, entranced by the swish of your skirt and the soft footsteps you took, and-the dizzying length of your tight clad legs. Ada tightened her scarf around her throat, a smirk on her face as she made her way to the door.

“Don’t even think about it Tommy.”

——————————————————-

It was hard for him not to.

That night, as he drove back to Birmingham, he pictured your pretty face, your teeth chewing on those rose coloured lips, the slight tremor in your words as you spoke. In the quiet of his bedroom, the moon watching him from high above, it was usually Grace who disrupted his nightly reflection. But for the first time in a long time, it wasn’t her voice soothing him to sleep.

He knew he wasn’t going to fall in love. Grace might have been on the other side of the Atlantic with a husband that didn’t deserve her, but Tommy was a romantic, and he truly thought that one day they would reunite. Lizzie was a good fuck, but she was temporary. Now she was hired as his secretary he didn’t want to blur the lines of their relationship, and he could already feel her growing too close for comfort. He didn’t need a girlfriend, especially when he knew that no one could compare to Grace, he didn’t need another person to worry about and he certainly didn’t need another broken heart. But what he did need was something to fill the void.

It was easy to find you, even with just your first name. He spoke to one of his informants in London, under the guise of ‘looking for a new assistant’ and the following day he had a stack of papers sitting on his desk.

(Y/N) (Y/L/N). You worked at the library two days a week, and spent the other three training as a nurse. There were no previous addresses or references from past jobs, just your current flat and the hospital where you worked part time. There was nothing personal, no mention of family or relatives nearby, just a slightly faded photograph of you taken before the war. You weren’t looking at the camera, your eyes occupied elsewhere, almost as if you were shying away from the photographer. You looked younger, but just as beautiful and Tommy thumbed the worn print between his fingers; careful not to smudge your face, a fingertip trailing along your lips.

———————————————————-

The flowers came three days after you had met.

You had been at the hospital learning how to properly stitch wounds, and your head was numb from processing so much information. You were exhausted, droplets of rain splattering across your collar and down the back of your blouse, and you were desperate for the warmth of your bed. You toyed with the keys in your pocket, finger running across the ridges so that you could get in as quickly as possible, but you fumbled when you noticed a spark of crimson on your doormat.

It must have cost at least a hundred pounds. Rich, ruby red roses all neatly clipped and arranged, their petals healthy and as soft as butter, and the gold foil writing on the box was of a store on the other side of London, one you had been too intimidated to even step foot in. You assumed that it was for Mrs Kim upstairs, or perhaps a gift from Ron to Mark after they had one of their colossal rows, but as you reached for the label, you felt your brow furrow.

“It really was a pleasure to meet you, (Y/N). Regards, Tommy Shelby.”

You left them in your kitchen, squashed into the only vase you owned, clipping them practically to the wick to get them all to fit. You ignored them as you ate dinner, the radio nothing but noise in the background. You tried not to think of them as you sank into a scalding hot bath, or as you clambered into bed, and it worked - because what you thought of as you drifted off to sleep wasn’t ruby red roses, but ocean blue eyes.

——————————————————————

Two more bouquets came in two weeks. Both just as lavish and extravagant as the first, and both sitting in the biggest drinking glasses you owned. Your flat smelt like a florists’, and pollen lingered on your clothes all day, a constant reminder of the man who had sent them. You busied yourself with work, letting the day to day distractions of the injured occupy your mind. The hospital had needed an extra pair of hands and you needed experience, but when you finally returned to the library, you cornered Ada as she restocked the shelves.

“Oh (Y/N)!” She smiled, as pure and fresh as new snow. “It’s not been the same without you.”

“I don’t want a boyfriend.”You blurted out, eyes wide.

You had hoped to say something more eloquent, but Ada’s jet black hair and similarity to her brother made you fall pathetically at the last hurdle. Her eyebrows shot up, and you inhaled deeply. “Sorry, that came out wrong. Please tell Tommy, thank you for the flowers, but I’m not really looking for something right now.”

“Tommy sent you flowers?” There was curiosity evident in her voice as she stepped forward, heeled boot clicking against the floor.

“Well, more like three bouquets.”

“Wow.” Her brows almost reached the pendant light dangling from the ceiling.

“I thought you knew - I mean, I thought you gave him my address.”

She shook her head, a small smirk dancing in her face. “Nope. But that’s never stopped Tommy before.”

You exhaled, looking up at her and chewing on the bottom of your lip. “You know that I - I can’t. I don’t think I’m ready, you know, after everything...”

Ada was your closest friend, she had been since she arrived in London. Beautiful and intelligent, with her young son and quick wit - you remembered meeting her on her first day at the library, feeling nervous and intimidated by such a confident and clever woman, but barely a week passed and it felt as though you had known her your entire life. As the months flew by, the two of you would often go for drinks or dinner by the river, staying out till midnight and laughing until your ribs felt tough. She trusted you enough to let you babysit Karl, the little boy calling you his Auntie and making your insides swell with pride. And finally, on a warm summer night, with her cherry red lips and coal black eyeliner, the two of you watching the sun set from the balcony of her expansive house, she opened up to you.

As the sky darkened and you shared champagne and strawberries in the open air, she told you about her family and her past. Her voice was smaller than you had ever heard it, such a powerful woman almost seeming meek as she bore her soul to you. She told you about Freddie, the headstrong and golden hearted man she had fallen for, and you intertwined your fingers when she spoke about his death. She told you about her reasons for arriving in London, cautiously speaking about a gang that roamed the streets back home, you listened intently, eyes wide when she revealed that the main members were of her own blood.

She trusted you inexplicably, telling you things that she had burrowed away for years and that meant the world to you. So under the moonlight, you tipped your head back and emptied your glass, blinking back tears as you explained your own past, the one you had been running from.

Now though, she pressed a kind hand to your shoulder, her eyes softening ever so slightly and it broke you away from your thoughts.“You don’t have to explain anything to me. I’ll tell Tommy to keep his cock in his pants.” She winked at you, making you let out the breath that you had been holding, a relieved chuckle escaping from your throat.

She tugged your sleeve gently, motioning to the overflowing pile of dog eared novels by her feet. “Come and help me sort all this out.” She said “And let me fill you in on my date yesterday.”

Ada phoned Tommy as soon as she arrived home. He answered on the third ring, his voice tired and thick with smoke, his exhaustion evident through the speaker. One mention of you however, and he perked up like he had downed three shots of espresso. Work had been fucking awful, and imaging you and those rosebud lips was a pleasant distraction from the ache in his skull.

Ada told him to back off, and he could practically feel his sisters stern expression despite being 100 miles away from her. “She’s too nice for you Tommy, and not interested. Besides aren’t there enough girls in Birmingham? Why do you have to come after the one I’ve actually made friends with?”

Tommy had rolled his eyes. He loved his sister, but he didn’t feel like explaining his reasoning to her. He knew that she would never approve, never really understand him.

��You know I want you to find someone, especially after...” She inhaled sharply, choosing her words carefully. “Look, Tommy, you’ll find someone, but just not (Y/N), yeah? She’s been through a lot.”

He hummed, not voicing his real thoughts, always liking to keep his cards close to his chest. He said his goodbyes and hung up, Ada’s words lingering in his brain. His spine had stiffened at the implication of Grace, he hated being reminded of the past, especially memories he was trying so hard to forget. But it wasn’t just that, there was something about the words she had chosen that had sparked a fire in his gut.

“She’s been through a lot.”

He wasn’t quite sure what she was insinuating, but to him, it made you all the more alluring. He would never pursue a woman who truly wanted nothing to do with him. He might not have been the textbook definition of a ‘good man’ but he respected those who turned him down - although it was very much a rarity. But there was something about you, something about the way that you had held his stare, the innocence in your eyes and the attractiveness that hung around you like sugar water.

He loved the chase, especially when the reward was as sweet as you.

—————————————————————-

He waited outside your flat, hands in his pockets and peaked cap low on his head. It was almost six and he knew that you would be returning from the hospital soon, so he crossed his legs, leaning on the doorframe with a cigarette between his lips, secondhand smoke curling in the air.

He heard you before he saw you; the hiss of the cold air as you fought with the heavy door, the clunk of your patent loafers across the concrete and the jangle of your keys in your palm. He smiled to himself. Watching as you walked up the stairs, rifling through papers in your hands and then looking up suddenly, your eyes widening with shock.

“Tommy.” You said, filled with genuine surprise, clutching your handbag tightly, sure that you would drop it otherwise.

He liked the way his name sounded on your tongue.

He reached forward, steadying your wobbling hands and collecting the papers before they could scatter down the hallway. You stiffened at the contact, but he held you secure.

“Is Ada alright?” You asked quickly, hoping his impromptu visit didn’t come with bad news. He looked down and felt his stomach twist at the sight of your long lashes and shining wide eyes.

He shook his head. “My sisters fine. I actually came here for you.”

“Me?”

“Ada rang me, and I wanted to apologise for being so forward. It wasn’t my intention.”

You straightened, pulling slightly away from his hands. “You could have called, or written a letter.” The words came out slightly sharper than you had hoped, but you felt bristled by his sudden appearance.

He smiled. A half tug that looked boyish and cheeky, almost a smirk, and you hated the way that it made your heart flutter. “Well, yes, but that would have meant not seeing you in person.”

You fought back your own embarrassed grin, feeling blush rise from your throat to the plump of your cheeks. A flicker of humour sparked in his eyes, feeling triumphant at getting even the smallest of responses from you. The heat around your collar was turning such a delicious shade of red, like a honeycrisp apple, and it was hard for him to look away.

“Let me take you to dinner.”

You shifted on one foot, trying not to look into his milky blue eyes, knowing that if you did he would have you hook, line and sinker. “Tommy... I don’t know.”

“Just one dinner and I’ll be out of your hair.”

You exhaled, feeling yourself starting to cave. “Okay. One dinner. And nowhere fancy.”

Five minutes later and you were out the door. You had slipped off your work uniform and stepped into a lavender beaded dress and a pair of modest kitten heels. You hated the way you double checked your reflection in the mirror, smoothing out the stray hairs by your forehead, placing a cool hand to your chest to try and level your breathing. You didn’t put on any makeup, you weren’t trying to give Tommy the wrong idea.

You reminded yourself that you were just going to dinner, as friends. Nothing more.

Tommy watched you under the shimmering lights of the club. The rhythmic clash of the jazz band echoed all around him, beautiful women laughed and swayed on the dance floor, and the air was thick with smoke and bitter whisky, but his attention was solely cast at you.

Your head was down, and you were picking at the food on your plate. The expensive bottle of red wine sat opened in the middle of you both, your glass untouched and his filled halfway.The owner had recognised him immediately and sent over the gift, and he didn’t miss the caution that flashed on your face at the gesture.

“Are you sure you don’t want a glass?” He asked, voice smooth like silk.

You looked up at him. “No, thank you though. I have an early shift in the morning.”

He nodded, cutting through his steak, a sliver of blood on his knife. “How long have you been a nurse?”

He already knew, but he wanted to hear your answer.

“Well, I’m technically not a nurse - not yet. I’m still training, but I only have a few months to go.” You smiled, and he watched as your whole face lit up as you talked about your passion. “I’ve always wanted to do it. Now I finally am.”

“Well, I think that’s very admirable.”

“And what do you do?”

“Oh. I’m a bad man.” He said, as if it was the most causal thing in the world. His cobalt eyes flickered from his plate to you, holding you hostage in his gaze.“But I’m sure Ada’s told you all about that.”

You inhaled. “I try not to judge people based on rumours.”

“Even if they hold some truth in them?”

You didn’t say anything. You swirled around the spaghetti on your plate, spearing your fork through a pea. After a moment you cleared your throat, daring to look up at him.

“I think the world has changed. Times have moved on, and sometimes it requires a firmer hand to get where you want to be.”

Tommy paused, genuinely taken aback by your reply. You had been so timid and placid before, but now there was an intensity to your words, one that he found particularly alluring.

“It doesn’t mean that I agree, but - ” You sighed. “A few years ago, I was turned down by a nursing school; they said I was too young and too inexperienced and... it really shattered my confidence. I was going to give up completely, but instead I decided to keep studying, and I was working three jobs to just make ends meet. When I applied again I made sure that there was no way they would reject me.”

Your eyes flickered up momentarily as you chewed on your upper lip. “All I’m saying is, sometimes you have to work hard to get what you want.”

Tommy mulled over your words, tongue running over his teeth. He picked up the stem of his wine glass and held it towards you in a toast. His eyes caught yours and his stare was unwavering, the edge of his lips unturned in a boyish smirk.

“To getting what we want.”

———————————————————-

You really, truly, honestly, didn’t want to enjoy your dinner with Tommy - but you did. The night was so easy, after a while you managed to find a comfortable niche and the conversation flowed like running water. As time passed you found yourself giving into habits that you thought you had left behind, like tucking a loose curl behind your ear, or giggling into your hands, a warm shade of pink staining your skin. Tommy watched you, the anchor on his chest lifting slightly, the way it always did when he found himself getting his way.

He walked you home with his suit jacket draped over your shoulders; despite your protests, leaving you smelling like whisky sours and cigarettes. He could feel your apprehension as you stood under the archway of your apartment building. The wind had picked up and rain was drizzling onto the both of you, and his stomach tightened when you looked up at him with raindrops coating your eyelashes. He was waiting for you to speak first. If he had his way, he would be joining you in your flat, pressing you up against the wall and kissing your lips until they were swollen. He wanted to untangle the braid in your hair, unlace the dress that made you look ethereal and feel you breathless under him, but he remained patient.

The truth was that even though you had only spent one evening alone, the constant buzz of work and life in his brain had faded into static. (There was only one woman who had ever made it fully fade, but now he knew now to take whatever he could get). He had genuinely enjoyed the night, even without the guarantee of ending it in your bed. It was pleasant to spend a few hours talking about something other than business deals or brutality, to fill silences with stories about films you had seen or your misbehaving patients.

He would be satisfied with a goodnight kiss, to taste the sweetness of your lips and feel the curve of your waist under his palm. He liked the way that the nerves you had started the night with were flittering under your skin once again; it made him feel good, it made him feel wanted, it made him feel powerful. It would be enough to sate him over until the next time you met up - because believe him, there would be a next time - but even he couldn’t stop the flare of surprise that splashed over his face when you simply handed him back his jacket and darted up the stairs.

“Thank you for dinner, Tommy. Have a good night.”

Underneath the broken bulb in your hallway, with his expensive patent shoes slowly filling with water, he let out a loud, genuine, chuckle.

—————————————

A few days passed, and whilst your evening with Tommy still lingered in your mind, work was much too hectic for you to be wrapped up in distractions. There were no more surprise bouquets or unannounced visits, and no phone calls at the end of your shifts either, you knew you should have been relieved, but you couldn’t ignore the tiny flicker of disappointment. You decided to tell Ada, mentioning your dinner casually the next time that you saw her, dropping it into conversation as though it wasn’t a monumental piece of gossip.

“You did what?” Her voice echoed around the expansive library and you playfully shushed her, pointing to the people reading on the floor below.

“It’s not that big of a deal!”

“Psh! Easy for you to say!” She huffed, elbowing you in the ribs as she meticulously rearranged the books on the shelf in front of her. “I thought you were... you know...” She waved her hand like she was wafting smoke from her face, a clear indication of what she thought you were going to do to her brother.

You sighed, wiping the dust from a hardcover. “I know, I know. But he’s... charming.”

“Yeah, like a fox.”

You laughed at her blunt tone. She turned away and continued working, her shoulders shrugging with her movements. “Just be careful, okay?”

“I will, mum.” You tugged on the bottom of her hair like a child, making her meet your line of sight. “Honestly, Ada, it was a nice night, but it’s not like it’s going to go anywhere. I have no plans to see him again - ever.”

Your intentions were shattered as you left the hospital one evening, stopping dead in your tracks when you recognised the distinct peaked cap and felt the unmistakable domineering aura all around you. You tried to bite back the smile threatening to take over your entire face when you saw him leaning against a red brick wall, tall and cool, the kind of man that would have a million songs made about him.

You couldn’t deny the twist in your gut when he smiled at you, so cheeky yet smooth like rich dark chocolate. You felt the envious glances of the other nurses leaving their shifts around you, bubbling with jealousy and curiosity. You didn’t even care that you would be the main topic of discussion at the next tea break on Monday, as much as you hated to admit it, you felt like the world around you was blurring, leaving nothing but the two of you.

“Is this a social call, Tommy? Or should I get the first aid kit.” You called out under the noise of the streets around you, your voice deceivingly controlled.

He flipped his leather notebook closed, one you hadn’t even noticed he was so engrossed in, sliding it into his pocket and uncrossing his legs, his eyes shining with humour.

“No, not tonight. Although I’ll know where to come if I ever need it.”

You came to a stop just before him, not trusting yourself to get too close.“What can I do for you, Thomas?”

He didn't comment on the space you had left between you, but you knew that he had noticed it. He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out his wallet, nimble fingers rifling through until he pulled out two stubs of paper.

“I have tickets for the play tonight.”

You felt your eyes widen as he showed you the passes. You had made an offhand comment at dinner about wanting to see this particular play, one that you didn’t think he had even noticed, but he was obviously more observant than you had given him credit for.

“Wow. That’s great.” You smiled, “Well, I hope you have a lovely night.” You winked at him, turning on your heel but he grabbed the edge of your sleeve, pulling you back towards him.

“I think it’ll be a little rude of me if I show up alone, and besides, a lot of these things tend to go over my head, I think I might need somebody to help me understand everything.”

You wanted to resist. You wanted to tell him no. You wanted to be strong and admit that the fortress you had built around yourself wasn’t ready to start crumbling down, not just yet.

But you couldn’t.

You knew that this could all be a mistake. Letting people in wasn’t something you were used to, especially not someone as charming and handsome as Tommy. But you found yourself liking him, as though he had some kind of magnetic hold over you, pulling you closer even when you wanted to run.

“Tommy I - It’s kind of you, but I don’t think it’ll be wise.”

“Please.” He said, and hearing such a vulnerable word coming from his mouth made your throat constrict. “I know that I’m being forward and feel free to tell me to piss off, but honestly, I had such a wonderful dinner with you and I would love to take you out again. And besides, you’re my only friend here in London.”

“What about your sister?”

“Oh we’re really not that close.” He teased.

You laughed, chewing on your lip so harshly you thought you might draw blood. Despite the protests in your brain you reached out and took a ticket, looking up at him with those big eyes that made his toes curl.

“Fine.”

The theatre was beautiful. It was wide and open, with red velvet seats and high ceilings. It was the prefect escape, laughing and gasping with the audience as the actors fought and danced on stage, magnificent hand painted back drops making you feel like you were no longer in London. You ate truffle coated popcorn and drank glasses of champagne, all sent over by the ushers that recognised Tommy instantly, practically bowing to him when you both arrived.

But Tommy truly couldn’t care less for whatever was happening in front of you both, because he was completely captivated by you. He liked when you tipped your head back when you laughed, he liked the way your eyes lit up and followed the characters on stage, as though you were in a trance. He followed the curve of your nose and the pout of your lip under the cream coloured lights, unable to fight back the smile when you noticed him, blush rising up your neck like a tidal wave.

He walked you home that night, just like he had before, his jacket slung over your shoulders and his hand ghosting against yours. You seemed more open, your anecdotes a little more personal and your laugh a little louder, and he really felt like he might be getting somewhere. He liked making you giggle and the way you tucked into his side when a car raced by a little too fast, and he wasn’t even disappointed when you simply handed back his coat at the end of the night, a ghost of a smile on your lips - if anything it made him want you more.

The morning after the play, with eyes blurred from sleep and a migraine brewing behind your eyes, you found a still warm lemon loaf and a container of expensive coffee on your doorstep. You smiled as you tied your hair up messily with a powder pink ribbon you had around your wrist, placing the coffee inside by the kettle and half of the sickly sweet treat in your handbag, knowing you would need it to soften up Ada when you inevitably told her about the evening you had shared.

She had rolled her eyes and scolded you; reminding you to be cautious. And you wanted to be, really, but there was something about him that made you ignore the warning signs hammering in your chest, and before you knew it you were back under his arm when he next showed up on your doorstep.

He took you to a horse show on the other side of London, telling you that he needed another pair of eyes and a consultant for helping him choose a new mare. You had told him you knew nothing about horses, and yet he persisted, pulling you in with that damned smile and those ocean blue eyes. You had managed to get one over on him though, meeting him at his car the next day, dressed in a blood red gown that made his breath get caught in his throat. You looked beautiful, ethereal even, with your curled hair and shy eyes. And that colour red, the colour of sin against such a gentle soul made the fire in the pit of his belly reignite whenever he looked at you, but worst of all, was the way that colour reminded him of her.

He didn’t want to be wallowing in the past. So he allowed himself to get sucked into you, allowed the smell of your perfume and the sound of your voice and the warmth of your body distract himself from the blonde beauty that was clawing back into his mind.

He was waiting for you in his matte black car on his last night in London, and you tried to ignore the thump of your heart when you realised that he wanted to spend his final day in the city with you. He drove to Hyde Park, the sun was high and the sky was the cloudless, a long stretch of blue that seemed to go on forever. You walked across the grass, keeping your hands laced together so you wouldn’t risk brushing your fingertips against his, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to hide the goosebumps that would rise on your skin.You watched him smoke, inhaling and exhaling smoothly, blowing out nicotine like it was water, and he smiled when he caught your eye.

“Why did you bring me here today?” You asked finally, when the two of you came to a stop by the edge of the pond, watching the ducks and swans swim between the reeds.

“I like appreciating beautiful things.” He said, tilting his head so he was looking you in the eye.

You sighed, watching the sun reflect diamonds from the water. “I don’t understand you, Tommy, and that makes me nervous.” He didn’t know what to say, and so he let you continue. “How much has Ada told you about me?”

“Nothing. She’s a good friend.”

“She’s my best friend.” You murmured, and he watched the way your eyes glossed over, like you were replaying a million memories in your head. “You know, she told me to stay away from you.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that.”

“I don’t know why you’re pursuing me.” Your voice was small, like the ripples that lapped over the top of the pond.

The truth is he didn't either. He knew it was wrong, using you as a way to get over Grace, but he’s never been known for having the most ethical methods. Doesn’t he deserve this? For everything he does, for the money he makes and the lives he’s built for his family, doesn’t he deserve something kind and pretty and gentle? Doesn’t he deserve a distraction from all the noise?

You reached into your handbag, rummaging around through the loose lipsticks and many receipts that you’ve shoved inside. He peered as you pulled out a small coin purse, rose coloured and no bigger than your palm. You unclasped the two little pearls at the top, and he noticed your fingers shaking ever so slightly, like a leaf in the wind.

You pulled out a picture and handed it to him, dog eared and greying but unmistakably you, laughing into the cheek of a young man, his arms slung over your shoulder. Tommy looked over at you, but you were watching the water, jaw clenched ever so slightly.

“Who is he?”

“Steven.” You cleared the lump residing in your throat, the one that always surfaced when you spoke about him. “We lived next door to each other, he was my first kiss, my first love, my first - everything.”

Tommy felt a pang in his gut like a sucker punch, he could hear the hurt in your words, he knows it too well, because it’s the same that echoes around his skull whenever he thinks about Grace.

You continued, “We were together since primary school, and all through secondary. I really thought we were going to be with each other forever.” You sniffled, and Tommy knows what you’ll say before you’ve even formed the words, because he’d been through the horrors himself. “He was a few years older than me though, and then he... and then he got drafted.”

“He was never made for the war. No one is, not really, but he was special. He was so kind and gentle and funny, and it wasn’t fair. We got married the day before he was sailing to France. I wore my mothers dress, it was too big and a few buttons were broken, but it was perfect. We were just kids in love.”

The silence that followed told Tommy everything he needed to know, and his gut felt heavy, like it was filled with lead. He wanted to reach out and touch you, the sadness radiating off of you like perfume, but he kept his hands to himself.

“How did it happen?” Tommy asked after a moment, knowing that you might not be able to bring up the subject unless he did.

“Second battle of Somme. Front line. They said he took the bullet instead of his comrade, jumped in the way to save him. They said he died quickly, that he wasn’t in much pain.”

“He died a hero.”

“He shouldn’t have died at all.”

Tommy agreed with that.

“The war took too many good men.” His voice was growing as sullen as his eyes, thinking back to a time that always sucked the life from him, his mind growing hazy with thoughts of the trenches and mud on his feet, sticky blood staining his hands.

“And destroyed those left behind.”

He inched closer to you. He was so tall and stoic, eyes focused on the water in front of you yet you felt completely seen, something about him making you feel content. Above you, the clouds were darkening, a chill whipping around you both. He brushed his shoulder against yours, the fabric making you shiver slightly, and he grabbed your wrist gently, intertwining your fingers with his, making the first move because he knew you couldn’t.

“Come on,” He said, voice raspy and thick like billowing smoke. “We don’t want to get stuck in the storm.”

The rain was torrential. It was almost comical how quickly the clouds gathered and darkened, spitting droplets from above that trickled down and splattered the both of you. You giggled as you ran to the car, Tommy holding his jacket above the two of you, your heels splashing through puddles. It felt like a weight had lifted from your chest, when you opened the car door and bolted inside, breathless and wild. It had always been hard to talk about Steven, the words getting stuck in your throat like thick honey, but the relief of having it out in the open was enormous. You didn’t realise just how much of the past you were holding onto.

Raindrops were scattered along Tommy’s fine leather seats, the bottom of your dress painted with a faint layer of mud. His windshield wipers squealed as the cleared away the water, the car thick with tension and heat rising from your damp bodies. It was late by the time you made it back to the centre of the city, the rain still cascading down loudly onto the pavement around you. You could hear your blood rushing to your ears, the kind of constant hum that made you feel as though you were being held underwater.

Your whole body was bubbling with apprehension, you could feel Tommy moving behind you, the edge of his jacket brushing against your arm. You couldn’t find your keys inside your handbag, struggling from adrenaline and the icy chill of the air. Wet hair clung to your forehead, and you were certain your mascara was halfway down your cheeks, and you turned to Tommy to apologise for your clumsiness, but he was already gazing at you.

You were looking up at him, so innocent and so gentle and so beautiful under the soft glow of the navy sky and the twinkling stars and all he really wanted was to kiss you senseless - so he did.

He tasted like sweet mint and nicotine, and you tasted like woodsmoke and wisteria. It wasn’t a gentle kiss, it wasn’t like stealing kisses in the alley when you were sixteen, or clumsy kisses in the bed you shared with Steven, this was intense and passionate and all consuming. Tommy allowed you to devour him, the smell of you overpowering his senses and he buried his soft aching hands in your messy hair.

His body was pressed against you, thick and hard against the velvet of your figure. You pulled away slowly, lips puffy and swollen and baby pink. You were blushing, red hot from nerves and exhilaration and you laughed sweetly against the crook of his neck, eyelashes fluttering against his flesh.

“Do you want to come inside?”

His fingertips were the paint coated brushes and your body was the perfect canvas. You reacted to his touch like it was everything you craved. Your kisses were open mouthed and messy, and he had to bite his tongue to stop the cascade of groans threatening to spill from his lips. Your pulses were synced, the low light of your bedroom made you look like a creature from a fairytale, and he touched you like you were made from glass. His hands were soft yet rough, you let him run his fingers through his hair and then leave bruises on your hip bones. He shuddered into your neck, sweat dripping onto your skin, whines leaving your mouth that he wanted to drill into his brain and remember for the rest of his life.

He was breathless. He closed his eyes as he laid down next to you, the sky outside black like coal. You had been perfect. He couldn’t hear the shovels. The usual constant battle in his brain was replaced by the salty memory of your skin, your hot breath against his ear, your legs tangling with his. He felt you next to him, curling into him slightly, your body still recovering and your toes twitching.

The bedroom was quiet, nothing but the creak of the wind against the window and the occasional pattern of rain against the glass. He felt his ears twitch when you opened your mouth, muffled and sleepy, a pang of sadness in your voice.

“Please don’t break my heart.”

He pretended to be asleep.

————————————————————-

He was gone when you woke up. You weren’t quite sure what you were expecting, but cracking your eyes open to the lazy sunrise and the emptiness of your bed was as painful as a bullet in your spine. You felt embarrassed, looking down at the marks of your skin as you scrubbed away the night in the bath, running a warm flannel over your skin so many times that your flesh turned red. You felt ashamed; ashamed that you hadn’t listened to your best friend and ashamed that you had put your trust in someone that you knew would hurt you.

But deep down, in the pit of your stomach, you couldn’t deny that you still liked him, still wished that he was with you. You knew it was wrong but you forgave him. You knew he had to leave early; perhaps he hadn’t slipped out the way you had thought, perhaps he had truly wanted to stay. You felt foolish and young and weak, but you missed the feeling of his lips and his skin, the weight of his hips against yours.

Two full weeks passed by until he showed up again. There were no calls, no surprise bouquets or impromptu visits, just the lingering feeling of shame on your body. You didn’t say anything to Ada, too mortified to admit that you had slept with her brother and he had run out before you had woken up. You knew that he was the one in the wrong, he was the one who deserved to feel like shit for treating you that way, but that didn’t stop the pounding of your own insecurities.

Rich raspberry wine and candied cherries, these were the remedy for a broken heart. You were sitting cross legged on the sofa, the radio crackling behind you, soft jazz lulling you into a relaxed daze. You were sewing the hem of one of your dresses, threading the needle and watching the stitches close. You had already downed two glasses of wine, loving the taste and the burn in your belly, and you groaned when you heard two sharp raps on the front door.

“Ron, did you forget your keys again?” You huffed, expecting to see your forgetful neighbour waiting for you, but almost catching your fingers in the door when you realised who it was instead.

“Hi.”

Piercing blue eyes and a jawline that could slice your palm, two things that you simultaneously adored and loathed. His hand curled around the door as you tried to slam it shut, pushing against you so it couldn’t be closed.

“Fuck off.”

“Please. Please. (Y/N).”

“No Tommy - Thomas. Fuck!”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah? Well, I don’t give a shit.” You lied.

“Please just let me explain.” He said and you huffed, trying your hardest to not look at him for too long, it was like looking directly into the sun: painful and disappointing.

“I - No.”

“Please.”

Fuck him and that fucking voice.

You opened the door a crack, enough for him to slip through and into your flat. He looked so dark amongst the bright colours of your crockery and the yellow tulips planted on your windowsill. You moved backwards, trying to make yourself as small as possible, ignoring the ache growing inside of you, the ache to run into his arms and forgive him.

“I’m sorry for the way I left.” He scratched his forehead and cleared his throat, the sound echoing around the room. “There’s no excuse.”

“You made me look like a twat, Tommy.”

“I know, and I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that.” You said, but you weren’t sure if you meant it, liking the vulnerability in his words, the tenderness of his voice soothing you despite your inner anger.

He lifted his palm to run through his hair, jet black coat cloaking over him like a shadow. You saw it then, under the light of the blue moon, a gash tearing through the skin on his wrist.

“You’re bleeding.” You stated, and you saw his eyes widen slightly, looking at the wound on his arm as if he hadn’t noticed it before.

“Huh.”

“God, Tommy.” You inhaled, sucking air through your teeth, “Let me clean it, it looks like it needs stitches.” You hated yourself for giving in, knowing that the cut wasn’t that bad. It wasn’t like he was going to be leaving your flat in a stretcher, but you still cared for him, despite everything.

The smell of antiseptic wipes and the tangy metallic taste of blood filled your bathroom. You pressed on him a little too hard, smiling as he winced slightly. Neither of you spoke, letting the silence hang between the both of you, almost tangible. You could feel his eyes on you, those fucking sparkling eyes following the curve of your nose and the wave of your hair, lingering a little too long on your lips.

“I really am sorry.”

“Yeah, you said that.” You bit through the gauze, measuring it against his skin, anything to not meet his line of sight.

“I have a habit of ruining good things.”

You scoffed. “Do you think I’m stupid enough to fall for that line?”

“I thought you might hit me if apologised again.”

Against your better judgment, you laughed. “Yeah, I might have.”

His palm, warm and heavy and reminding you of the pressure of his body on top of yours, clasped over your own, making you still.

“Have I fucked everything up?” He asked. You didn’t say anything, not trusting your own voice. You felt the roughness of his fingertips circling your skin, languid like waves lapping across the shore. He inched closer towards you, smelling like fresh crisp apples and old cigarette butts, managing to always be the perfect mix of chaos and control. “Because I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you.”

You should have pushed him away, but you didn’t. You gave into the darkness of his blue eyes, the ring of lust forming around his pupils and the desire stirring in your belly like bubbling water. He tasted so sinful yet sweet and you were the perfect remedy for the terrible day he had, so receptive and angelic under his touch.

“If you rip your stitches, you’ll have to redo them yourself.”

He laughed into the soft, buttery flesh below your jugular, kissing your collarbones as his hands dragged you impossibly closer, lips crashing onto yours.

You fell asleep first. Hair cascading on your silk pillowcase, and he connected the freckles on your back like they were constellations. He could hear the gentle drip of the tap in the bathroom, and

the hum of the city around you. The noise in his head had stopped, but it still remained like a dull static in the back of his mind. He pushed it away though, focusing on the calming energy of your body and the tenderness of your touch.

He would be gone tomorrow.

He’ll let you wake up to him, he’ll drink the coffee in your kitchen and fuck you under the golden sunlight, open mouthed kisses shared in the confines of your apartment. But then he’ll leave again, giving you just enough to allow him to come back. He craved you, but it was medicinal, like a hit of opium when the shovels got too loud, not something he could afford to indulge in.

He looked over at you, fast asleep, your nose twitching slightly. He can’t give you what you want or what you deserve, but just for the night, in the quiet of your bedroom, with his hands on the curve of your hips, he’ll be the man that you want him to be.

—————————————————————-

His visits were sporadic and unpredictable. He would show up out of the blue, lurking around the back streets like a nomad, knocking on your door just before midnight, his hands covered in blood. On those nights you would clean him up, neither of you would speak as you washed away the crimson from his skin, rubbing ointment on the growing purple bruises on his knuckles. He would kiss you feverishly and wildly, desperate to feel your body so soft and pliant under his. Those nights he craved control, and you were the only person who would give it completely to him.

Sometimes he would show during the day, with a wide smile and an expensive suit, a bouquet of flowers in his hands. He would take you to dinner or for walks down the canal, you might sit curled in his lap at the pictures or perhaps drive to a new city, his hand in yours, allowing you to pretend that you weren’t just the girl he came to when he wanted to feel something.

He would take you gently, almost romantically. In the back of his car or at a hotel that cost more for one night than your months rent, moulding your body under his like clay. He’d make you moan for him, the prettiest sound he’s ever heard, and he’ll relish in the attention you’ll give him. You’ll be the one thing that calms him after a hard days work, it’ll be your body and touch that unclench his fists and help calm his mind. He uses you like snow, strong, hard hits that leave him gasping for breath.

He’d always be gone before the sunrises. He’d wait for you to be asleep, hair around your head like a halo, lips puffy and swollen from clashing with his, fingertip shaped bruises across your hips. He’d never stay long enough to hear the disappointment in your voice, see the gloss that coats your eyes, the hurt pounding in your chest.

It stings like alcohol on a wound even when you’re expecting it. When you wake up and your bed is cold and empty, and your body is missing the warmth of his. You’ll give yourself a few moments to cry, take a scalding hot bath and scrub his smell from your flesh, tell yourself over and over that this is the last time. Never again. But you know as you make your way home, with a clouded head and aching legs, that the next time he shows up, you’ll let him stay.

———————————————————-

It had been almost a month.

A month of complete silence. You felt stupid but not surprised, the sadness nothing more than a dull pain in your chest now. You felt like you were just existing, not living. Constantly waiting for him to show up at your door and make your world start spinning again. You tried to distract yourself with work, but hearing the ladies gossip in the cafeteria about their loving boyfriends and amazing dates made the hole in your heart throb.

You hadn’t told Ada what had been going on, but she was your best friend, and you were certain she had already sussed it. You’d been skipping shifts at the library, spending more of your time cooped up in your flat or the hospital, opting for overnight shifts, anything to distract you from the loneliness of your bed.

Your cupboards were bare, cups of tea gone cold dotted all over your flat, and cobwebs starting to appear in the corners of your walls. You needed to go to the grocer and buy something that wasn’t bread or wine or chocolate. You were rooting through your purse, hands smelling like copper when you heard the shrill ring of your doorbell. Your heart stopped, but you didn’t get your hopes up; you were done waiting around for him like a bloody border collie.

You could see her silhouette behind the door, raven coloured ringlets and red lipstick. You sighed, running your fingers over the creases in your jumper before you opened the door, expensive french perfume wafting into your flat.

“You’re avoiding me.” She said sharply, waltzing inside, thick fur jacket brushing past you.

“No I’m not, Ada.”

“Yes you bloody are!”

You watched as she rummaged through your cupboards, pulling out two glasses and then flopping down on your sofa and patting the seat next to her. She grabbed a bottle of vodka from inside her handbag, almost bigger than your head, and she started to pour.

“Tell me everything.”

So you did. It was embarrassing and awkward, but damn did it feel good to get off your chest. Ada sat watching intently, pursing her lips and sighing when appropriate, burgundy nails tapping on your table when she got particularly annoyed. She threw her head back and finished her second glass, faint cherry red staining the rim.

“I’m sorry I’ve been such a shit friend.” You apologised, gulping the remaining droplets of your own drink. “I just - God, I had no idea what to tell you.”

“You know you can tell me anything.” Her voice was ernest and for the first time in a long time you actually felt like you could breathe, Ada always had that effect on you. She had a way of making people feel comfortable.

“I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you.” You sighed, cradling your knees to your chest. “I was too embarrassed.”

“It’s not your fault, babe, Tommy’s a dickhead!” She shoved you lightly and you smiled halfheartedly. “And I would tell him that in person! Not that I’ve seen him since Grace came back.”

You felt your spine go rigid.

“Grace?”

Annoyance painted Ada’s face, and she pursued her lips like she was sucking on a lemon.“He didn’t tell you about her? That she came back?”

Not explicitly, but she had always been there. Ada had once told you about her brothers lover, the beautiful blonde vixen who had turned his world on its axis. That was partly why you were so hesitant, knowing you couldn’t compare to a woman like her, but Tommy had made you trust him, and look how that turned out.

Now you were slapped with the cold, hard truth, and it hurt.

She was the woman always on the tip of his tongue, the one that he saw when he closed his eyes. You were the body he used, the temporary buzz and the hit of pain relief, but she was the one he really wanted, the woman he pretended you were.

“No. Must have slipped his mind.” You laughed falsely, feeling tears build behind your eyes. You inhaled, your voice quiet. “But Grace - she was the one wasn’t she? You know, the one who...”

The one who broke his heart. The woman he loved, the woman he really wanted.

She hesitated, but then nodded sadly. “Yes.”

“God I’m such a fucking idiot.”

“I’m sorry baby.” Ada pulled you into her arms, cradling you against her chest like she was comforting her son. You let the tears fall, felt them cascading down your cheeks like a waterfall. Ada stroked your hair and pulled you close, and you closed your eyes, finally giving into the sadness.

———————————————————-

It was slow - the healing process. Falling back into a routine of work and chores, and eventually starting to laugh and smile again. You passed your final exam with flying colours, finally becoming a registered nurse. Ada was there with Karl, cheering you on when you left the hall with papers in your hands. You continued working at the library, hiding behind the bookshelves at the back with Ada, clutching your stomach from laughing so hard, your knees weak. You made new friends with the ladies at work, visiting clubs and bars on the weekends, trips to the pictures after a long day on the job. You even got asked out on a date, with a handsome doctor called Dennis who always made you a cup of coffee in the morning and saved you the donut with pink sprinkles he knew you liked.

It took time, but you were finally starting to feel the wound scab over, but of course, a hurricane in the form of a smart mouthed gangster was just enough to blow down everything you had worked so hard in repairing.

Three months of no contact had passed.

It was late. Hot water billowed around you as you stirred your tea bag, inhaling the sweet smell of cinnamon and lemon. You pulled your satin robe tight against your skin, admiring the soft blush pink colour and shuffling towards the bedroom in your matching slippers. You hummed as you turned down your bed, longing for the sweet embrace of your covers, but you were pulled from your daydream by pounding on your front door. You sighed, ignoring it and continuing to fluff your pillows, but when it didn’t stop, you frowned and stormed towards the assailant.

“Do you have any idea what time it is?” You muttered, swinging the door wide open, but the words evaporated like ocean spray when you came face to face with the man you least wanted to see. It was such a cruel sense of deja vu, and you could feel your face growing red hot with anger.

“Get the fuck away from me.”

He ignored you, stepping over the threshold and back into your life. You held your hands up, defensively and aggressively, your brain not knowing whether to fight or fly. You inhaled loudly, you didn’t want to give in, didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of seeing you upset.

“Please, Tommy. Just go.”

“I needed to see you.” His words were quick, raspy and urgent, but you brushed them off like they were nothing.

“You’ve seen me, now leave.”

“Not without speaking to you. Let me explain.”

“Was she busy?” You spat. “Is that why you’re here? She’s away so you think you’ll just come and see me and I’ll let you in? Let you touch me? Fuck you, Tommy.”

His eyes were wild, frustration painting his features. “It’s not like that.”

“Not like that?” You spat. “Not that you were using me as a tool to get over another woman? After everything I told you - ” You stopped, not wanting to think about your past. It was too painful.

He came closer, walking towards you so cautiously and softly you might have laughed. “Just hear me out.”

“Why the bloody hell should I listen to you?”

He shrugged exasperatedly, your words striking his skin like a branding, because you were right. He had no moral high ground or proper explanation for the way he had treated you.

“I’m fucked up. Too fucked up for you.” And he’s telling the truth. You’re so pretty and honest and kind, even when you’re crazy with rage, your whole body is practically buzzing with anger and you’re still so beautiful and light and he knows that he ruined you. You trusted him, you confided in him, and he still left.

“I can’t believe I was falling so such a goddamn righteous asshole!” You seethe, raking a hand through your hair. His eyes widened but you merely scoffed, if looks could kill he would have been swallowing dirt. “Don’t act like you didn’t know. Don’t act like you have no idea what I was feeling for you.”

He didn’t know what to say, and he could his stone cold heart breaking.

“I can’t do this anymore.” You sniffed. “This is the last time I want to see you.”

“Just let me stay, let me make it up to you.”

He moves closer, wanting to feel your hair between his fingers, the soft embrace of your touch and the sweetness of your lips. Things had been going wrong all day, the business struggling and the cops getting suspicious and all he could think about was holding you. He wanted to try, he needed to feel you, he needed to feel something real. He wanted to apologise, pull you under him and make the both of you forget. For one more night he didn’t want to be Tommy Shelby, he just wanted to be the man who got to hold you.

You inhaled. “I’m seeing someone else.”

He felt a knife slice through his abdomen. He had no right to feel the shock and jealousy prickling through his skin, not after what he had done, but he still felt the raging green envy bubbling inside of him. He was being completely unreasonable and cruel, but a part of him had really hoped you would wait for him, but it’s that unfair mentality that had cost him.

“What?”

“I’m seeing someone - someone from work.” You said, finally gaining the nerve to stand up for yourself, wanting to wash away six months of your life you had given to him. “We’ve been going out for the past few weeks.”

“Who is he?” His tone was more demanding than he meant it to be, the shock and twinge of insecurity he felt from your announcement was making his words sharper.

“You don’t get to ask me that.”

He needed to take back control of the conversation, he needed to explain. He knew just how much he had fucked up, he’d been gone for too long this time, and his own selfishness might have cost him the best thing he had going for him. “I never meant to hurt you.”

“No, you just never meant for me to find out.”

“That’s not true, (Y/N). Listen to me, I - ”

“I have a busy day tomorrow, Thomas.” You said firmly, putting your foot down and refusing to let him try to right his wrongs - you had worked too hard on moving on. The hidden meaning in your words made Tommy’s jaw clench, his hands reflexively flinching at his sides. “So, please, just... just go.”

You were crying, but trying so hard to hide it. He could see the gloss coating your eyes and the flush rising from your chest, as though your body was leaking sadness from every pore. He felt his heart pound against his ribs. He was so used to getting what he wanted, in business and in private, and yet he felt like he might have just lost it all. So he turned and left, shutting your front door and trying to tune out the sound of your sobs, feeling even more empty inside then when he had arrived.

—————————————————————

He finally got what he wanted.

Grace was sitting opposite to him, her knees brushing against his, her smell so familiar and dizzying, but yet it didn’t feel right. She was a vision in a sea foam dress, with her sunshine coloured hair and perfect features, her eyes filled with a million stars that he could once spend hours getting lost in, but not anymore.

It felt so fake, so forced. The conversation didn’t flow, his words were stagnant, getting caught in his throat. She was looking right at him, the same way she did when they would wake up tangled in one another, at a time in his life that he used to think he was the happiest.

But maybe that had changed.

He was finding pieces of you in her. He knew that Grace only drank red wine, but out of habit he almost poured her a glass of bourbon; because that was what you liked. The way she tucked her hair behind her ear when she was nervous, the same way you did. How the shawl draped over her shoulders would look perfect on you.

He was sitting across from the woman of his dreams, but none of it felt right, because she wasn’t you.

Perhaps his dreams had changed.

He tuned out Grace as she spoke, her voice not calming him as it once had. All he could think about was what he had lost. He had been a prick, he knew that for certain. He hadn’t meant to not call you, to leave you in the lurch like he did, he just didn’t like anyone getting too close.

When he was in Birmingham he was the leader of the Blinders. He was smart and strong and thought things through so nobody else had to. He was the kingpin, the man who ruled with an iron fist and got exactly what he wanted, when he wanted it. But with you, in London, he had allowed himself a sliver of peace. He let himself sleep next to you, peach coloured moon dancing over your bodies, curtains blowing in the wind. After a long day he found himself driving to see you. Wanting to see that shy smile that would make his knees buckle, feeling like a teenager even when he had beat a man half to death mere hours before.

You were a forest fire. Just a small spark, the smell of your hair, the velvet of your skin, the sound of your laugh, and his entire world was alight. He remembered taking you out, the feel of your small hand against his, genuinely wanting to know how your day had been. He remembered the sound of your laugh, when he had you pressed up against the window of his car, in between ticket stubs and cigarette butts and road maps, unable to stop the grin making its way onto his own face.

Even in the months he was gone; when Campbell came back and turned his world back to shit, in the quiet of his office, his mind always wandered back to you. He thought about you whenever he saw fog rolling over the hills or he felt rain patter across his shoulders, he would lose himself for a moment and his brain would conjure up a picture of you. When he saw John and Esme at the Garrison, soft gentle touches reserved for one another, that stupid dopey grin on his brothers face, he thought of you.

It was more than just sex and he was a fool for thinking that that was all it had been.

“Tommy? What’s the matter?”

It was Grace. Her voice like ripe berries and warm milk, but entirely wrong. He blinked, remembering where he was, feeling the velvet of the sofa under his suit. She smiled when she realised she had captured his attention, slightly smug and self assured, and she continued her story of the joys of living in New York.

Tommy looked at her, really looked at her for the first time since they had met up. Here they were, in a five star hotel room outside of Birmingham, with champagne and caviar and imported chocolates. But she’s married, to somebody else. And yet, she had rang him and expected him to drop everything and join her.

He almost laughed at the irony of the situation.

Grace was like the first sunshine after being caught in a storm, but perhaps he’d grown to like the rain. He’d been chasing her for too long, like a fucking puppy, and now she was sitting centimetres apart from him, and he realised that she didn’t look all that magical. He thought about the anguish he felt when she left, the pure heartache that almost split him in two when he found out she had married another man, the pain of sleeping alone once more - and it makes him falter, because that’s exactly the same way he’d treated you, and you deserved so much more.

He knew Grace wanted. She wanted to fuck. She wanted to feel something other than her pathetic new husband, she craved the feel of power and the memory of what it’s like to run around with the devil. Her hand moved from the stem of her wine glass to the top of his thigh, a gentle, almost timid touch, testing the waters before she fully submerged. This is what he’d wanted since the very minute she boarded that train, to be back with the woman he loved, but now her soft caress feels like a slap. She didn’t notice his internal struggle, wine drunk and ready to fall back into his arms, but all he could picture was you with another man, his hand resting on the silk of your skirt.

He felt the familiar tick in his jaw, the way his knuckles flexed unconsciously, he knew he had no right but jealousy was eating away at him. How fucking stupid had he been? And now another man would have the pleasure of taking you out, making you laugh and blush under diamond chandeliers. Another man would get to walk you home, listen to your voice and then kiss you under the silver moon. He couldn’t even bear to think of the next part, the mere thought making flames ignite around his pupils.

“Tommy?” Grace asked, her eyes big and round like saucers, lips parted and just waiting to be pressed against his. She watched as he stood up, his knees clashing against the bar cart, far more flustered than she had ever seen him before.

“I have to go.”

———————————————————-

The club was loud, the bands instruments following you everywhere you went. The room was painted red and gold, shimmering lights and glowing pink shades reflecting from every surface. You were in a booth in the corner, nursing a glass of bourbon and eating sweet green olives, vinegar and alcohol on your tongue. Dennis was sat opposite, clad in a fine suit with a fresh haircut and laughing at his own anecdote, his hands gesturing wildly as he retold a story you had already forgotten.

You liked him, you did. He was nice and funny and handsome, - but he didn’t make sparks dance on your skin when he touched you, and he didn’t occupy your mind every second you were apart. Maybe that was for the best, maybe you needed to be sensible and date with your head, not your heart, because that was why you always got hurt.

You mind had been muddled since Tommy came back. All of your hard work had crumbled to pieces when he had knocked on your door. It was beyond frustrating, the way that he managed to crawl back inside your conscience with just a few words. You tried to blink away everything that happened, focusing on Dennis sitting on the other side of the booth, losing yourself in his kind smile and bright eyes.

He reached out and patted your hand with his, and you noticed how smooth his fingers were, not like the rough calloused pads that you could remember digging into your thigh and - you stopped, determined not to let your mind wander. You weren’t being fair to Dennis, he deserved someone who would give him their undivided attention, and didn’t spend the evening think of another man.

You let Dennis order another round of drinks, the conversation coming back round to the hospital - the only thing you seemed to have in common. You were just about to ask after a patient who you had heard wasn’t fairing very well, when you heard a commotion coming from the main hall. You raised your eyebrows and twisted around, trying to get a better view but you were blocked mostly by the sea of bodies. You turned to look at Dennis, but watched his own gentle brown eyes fill with shock.

“I need to talk to you.”

Fucking hell.

You felt flames licking your skin and ice cold water on your head at the same time. That stupid brummie accent that made your toes curl even after all the shit he had put you through. You saw surprise flash across Dennis’ face, his brows knitted at the stranger who had approached your booth. You didn’t want to turn around and face him, but you didn’t want the situation to get out of hand. You risked it. Swivelling in your seat so you could see him fully, your eyes flittering over the curls in his hair and the dammed sea blue colour of his irises.

“Tommy.” You kept your voice as level as you could, but it was proving hard. “Tommy, what the hell are you doing here?”

“We need to talk, come outside with me.”

His stare was so heated that it almost made you feel uncomfortable, and his hair was tousled, the way it always got when he ran his hands through it repeatedly. You could tell he was jealous, not missing the way his eyes had darted to Dennis’ hand covering your own. You could see the clench of his jaw and the tension in his forehead and it made you feel good, it was about time he had a taste of his own medicine.

“She doesn’t have to go anywhere with you.” Dennis said, rising from his chair so he could meet Tommy’s line of sight. You reached out and squeezed his wrist slightly, willing him not to get involved, not for your sake, but for his own.

“I’ve had a a really fucking long day and I think that it’s best if you don’t piss me off.” Tommy spat, his voice husky and exasperated, pointing a finger across the table. Coming face to face with you and your new lover was enough to tear the strings that were holding him together, he wasn’t a patient man and all he wanted was to explain himself, but it was hard when he was in such a jealous haze. His mind and his mouth weren’t working as one, he was losing his composure, and quickly.

“Stop it.” Your voice was stern, cold enough to turn him to stone. You could feel dozens of eyes on you, watching you all like you were performing at a play, mouths agape and eyes wild with anticipation. You blinked up at Tommy and you could see him soften, the hurt evident in your features enough to make him want to tear out his hair, furious at himself for how he always fucks things up.

You turned to Dennis, heart clenching as he held his ground despite being much smaller and a million times less intimidating then the gangster behind you. You gave him an apologetic look, knowing that the only way to diffuse the bomb that was Thomas Shelby was to speak to him alone.

“Thank you for everything, Dennis.” You said, shaking your head at the insanity of it all. “I’m so sorry, please forgive me for how this evening has turned out.”

He brushed off your words, as gentlemanly as ever, shooting a harsh look at Tommy. “Are you sure you’re alright going with him?”

You could see Tommy open his mouth to spit back something, his hands clenched at his sides, but you pushed him roughly in the torso and stormed past, heading for the back doors.

Your face was hot and red with shame, you could still taste alcohol on your tongue, but it had turned bitter and sour. You could hear him behind you, his expensive shoes clattering on the cobbled streets, his heavy exhales in the dark. He reached out, his touch timid and reserved despite the scene he had just created. At the feel of his fingers on your upper arm you pushed him off, walking further away into the alley.

“(Y/N)!) He called, but you ignored him, wiping away your tears before swirling on your heel, voice laced with venom.”

“It wasn’t enough for you to break me back at my flat?” You shouted, hearing your heart shatter with every syllable. “You had to come and do it in public too? What the fuck is wrong with you Tommy?”

“I know. I know.” He came towards you but you stumbled back, holding up a finger to keep him away from you. “I shouldn’t have made a scene.”

“Why can’t you just leave me alone?” You cried, it was hard enough to even try to get over him, but now he was making it impossible and you weren’t sure how much more you could take.

“I’m in love with you.”

You couldn’t stop the tears now. It was the words you had been begging him to say, the words that you had wanted to hear since you had first met, but they just made you weep harder. His face was so ernest, more honest than you had ever seen it, but it was so goddamn hard to believe him.

“You’re not in love with me, Tommy.” You murmured, swallowing the thickness in your throat. “You just want me because you saw me with another man.”

He shook his head, reaching out to touch you under the yellow glare of the streetlights. The feeling of you in his arms was so right to him, so familiar and warm that it felt like coming home. The tear streaks on your cheeks shone like the stars above the two of you, so beautiful and so heartbreaking and he needed to let you know how he felt.

“I’m in love with you.” His voice was firm, and even though you wanted to you couldn’t look away from him, trapped in his gaze. “It’s always been you. And I should have told you sooner.”

You stopped, everything you had wanted to say evaporated like ocean spray around the two of you, the water crashing so loud you could hear it in your ears. You were tired, and confused, half of you wanted to slap him and the other half wanted to fall into his arms. Instead, you sat down on the curb, feet planted in the gutter, dropping your head in your hands.

“I need a cigarette.”

Tommy smiled. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his packet and a lighter, giving you a smoke before lighting the end, watching the flame flicker in your eyes. You took three long drags, trying hard to control your breathing and rivalling emotions before you spoke again.

“How did you find me?”

He inhaled, puffing on his own cigarette. “I’ve had men watching you since the first time we met.”

You snapped around to face him. “You’ve fucking what?”

“You really think I was going to let you go around the city without protection?”

“I don’t know what to think.”

“I know.”

The silence was deafening and you hated how you instinctively wanted to move by his side, press your body up against his for warmth. Instead you looked up at the navy coloured sky, counting the stars and pretending you couldn’t feel him watching you.

“I fucked up.” He spoke. “ I used you and I hurt you.”

You bit your lip to try and stop the tears from falling once again.

“I was heartbroken because of Grace, and I needed a distraction.”

“A distraction.” You repeated.

“I’m sorry. It’s redundant now, I know. But I am. I fucked everything up and I’m sorry.”

The tension between you was almost palpable, like the nicotine that was surrounding you both. You could feel the sincerity in his tone, but you also knew that he could talk a man out of his house if he really wanted to.

“Did she turn you down?” You countered, facing him. “Is that why you’re here with me?”

He shook his head, tongue running over his teeth, wisps of smoke leaving his lips. “I saw her for the first time tonight.” He said, honestly. “I sat across from her and I realised that she meant nothing to me, not anymore.” You felt him beside you, the pressure of his thigh digging into yours, desperate to get you to look at him.

“It was just sex.” You muttered, looking for some kind of safety net to stop you from making the same mistake, no matter how badly your heart is pleading you to fall onto him.

“Don’t fucking say that. Don’t lie to me.” He stammered, as though your words had truly hurt him.

“You treated me like shit, Tommy. How can I ever trust you?”

“I can’t promise I won’t fuck something up. I’m a bad man and I do bad things, but I swear, right, on my fucking life - that I will never do anything to hurt you.”

He was so close to you. The strong man so weak as he brushed his nose against yours. He felt years younger, and felt the overwhelming ache to drag you into his arms and kiss you senseless.“I need you with me. I can’t do any of this without you - And will spend every day proving to you just how much you fucking mean to me.” He whispered, words trailing off into the

crown of your hair.

You couldn’t stop it. All of the warning bells in your head extinguished like candles, and all you could think about was him. He had hurt you, dug a knife into your rib cage and left you to bleed, and perhaps a better woman would have left him sitting in the gutter, but you knew that the two of you were bound together - just as beautiful and broken as one another.

You shook your head, looking up at him through your eyelashes, the man who had turned your life upside down. You didn’t want to think anymore - so you didn’t, instead you smashed your lips onto his, making his head spin wildly, losing himself in you.He’s always had a high tolerance, but somehow, just one touch, just the brush of your lips against his, the heat of your breath on his skin, has him utterly, completely, wasted

“Please don’t break my heart.” You said, reminiscent of the first time you had slept together, pressing your forehead against his. He breathed you in, the smell of violets and salt, warm coffee and vanilla, the scents that he wished he could bottle. He pressed his lips to yours, claiming you as his as much as proving he was yours. He relished the taste of you, his kisses greedy and passionate, making sure that you were still there and knowing that he would never let you go again.

“I won’t.”

And it’s a promise he’ll keep.

#Tommy Shelby #tommy shelby oneshot #tommy shelby imagine #thomas shelby imagine #thomas shelby oneshot #peaky blinders imagine #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinders oneshot #fic #orion writes

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isolaradiale · 4 years

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It was the last communication left by Ofiuco before she went dark at the end of the day on April 14th. The Stars scrambled to locate her, but not only was her signal missing but they were not able to find her with any camera in the city. Their only clue was the foreign signal that she had been previously intercepting. Given the amount of enemies the Stars had accrued, it was imperative that they locate her. In the wrong hands she could become little more than a weapon. If the assailants were competent, she could level all of Spirale.

This, however, was the least of their worries.

Less than a day after Ofiuco disappeared, a single, different, existence spawned within the city. It was an anomaly. It didn’t belong. By the end of Thursday it had multiplied by ten. Then, at midnight, there was a broadcast.

Every screen in the city lit up with the image.

Ten robed figures standing in a dark room. Their message was clear:

ADDRESSING ISOLA RADIALE. WE ARE AGENTS OF NULL. WE HAVE SEIZED THIS CITY’S DEFENSE DROID AND DEMAND THAT THE REIGNING LEADERS OF THIS CITY, THOSE REFERRED TO AS “THE ISLAND STARS”, TURN THEMSELVES IN FOR ARREST IMMEDIATELY. DESMOND VENIER, ELEINE VENIER, SEIRAS WALKER, RENAE ADISA AND FELICITY BOURNE; YOU HAVE UNTIL THE END OF THIS SEVEN DAY PERIOD BEFORE WE DESTROY YOUR CITY AND TAKE YOU BY FORCE.

CITIZENS THAT HELP US WILL BE GRANTED FREEDOM FROM THEIR CONSTRAINTS AND SERVITUDE. THOSE WHO OPPOSE US WILL BE EXTERMINATED. THIS DROID WILL BE OUR VESSEL UNTIL THE CRIMINALS ARE APPREHENDED. ANY CAPTIVE LOOKING TO FURTHER OUR CAUSE MAY REACH OUT TO ONE OF WE, THE AGENTS, AND A PORTION OF THEIR STRENGTH WILL BE RETURNED TO THEM FOR THE COMING CONFLICT. WE DARE "THE STARS" TO DEFY US.

The screen went blank as unrest spread across the city. The Stars, however, were not so quick to accept this threat. It took a few minutes for them to scramble to respond, but screens quickly came abuzz once more with the signal wrestled back from the GPU. This time, a man with white hair and blue eyes appeared on the screen. He sat dressed neatly in an old-styled formal clothing--given the short notice, it’s clear that it was his typical attire. When he spoke, he sounded much more calm than he felt.

“Attention citizens. It’s rare that we address you as such, but this circumstance is rather dire. I am Alathfar of the Island Stars. The infiltration of Spirale by the agents of NULL poses a serious threat not only to those of us overseeing this island, but also to the inhabitants both natural and otherworldly. They will not offer you freedom--only erasure.”

There was a pause, the sound of shuffling and frantic typing audible from the background. He took only a moment before continuing.

“There’s a lot we have to do, but the most important is taking back Ofiuco. In order for us to retrieve her, the network must be temporarily taken offline. Manually. Unfortunately, we can’t do this alone. For that end, we’ve created access points--holes--to reach the network’s cables that reside under the city. We need any citizen willing and able to go sever them using any means. The locations of these access points will appear on your phone’s map of the city.”

He took a breathe, then, and closed his eyes. When they reopened, they were full of determination.

“We will take back our city, but we need your help to do so. With Ofiuco able to override our commands, we’re unable to maintain any serious advantages, but once she’s been freed we’ll be able to offer a reward to any who assist in driving NULL out. Together, let’s make quick work of this.”

The broadcast flicks off as Alathfar’s explanation and plea for help rings throughout the city. All the citizens needed to do was sever wires across the island, but... would it really be that easy?

Not if NULL had anything to say about it.

Almost as if on cue--almost as if the agents had been waiting for the scientist’s cute cry for help, their pathetic defiance, to end--a loud explosion sounded from somewhere in the city.

Ofiuco emerged.

Her expression was blank. Her eyes glowing an ominous crimson red. A low rumbling echo coursed throughout the city as storm clouds began to form and shift. As gravity began to fluctuate. And as the earth began to move.

It would definitely not be as easy as just cutting some cords.

INFORMATION

Welcome to our new story event, SECURITY BREACH! As you can surely tell this will be one of the heavier events we’ve had in a while.

Ofiuco has been hacked by the mysterious NULL unit of the equally mysterious GPU. They demand the arrest of the Island Stars in exchange for the freedom of the city dwellers.

However the Stars have offered a counterpoint: the GPU’s definition of ‘freedom’ is in fact erasing the town and all of the people within altogether. They make a plea to help regain Ofiuco from the enemy control.

How this is done is through a forced reboot of the network that Ofiuco exists on. Many wires run beneath the city encased in steel tubing that are part of this network. They are typically protected by a barrier that prevents interference, but the Stars have disabled this barrier so they can be breached and cut. Disabling every line this way will force Ofiuco to shut down, and she can be retrieved. While these cords are usually buried so deep that they cannot be accessed, large holes leading down to the exposed tubing will open and close at random throughout the city at midnight each day. Once the cords in an area are cut, the phone service/internet/power in that area will go out--but this is optional flavor to include in your writing only if you’d like, since it’s near impossible to keep track of.

Exposed tubing will be marked on your phone’s map application, locations always current. Characters allied with GPU may be guarding them, but there are also monsters from NULL’s division that will manifest. They are like weak shades that appear in large numbers, each wielding a variety of elemental magic attacks (think standard RPG spells).

In the meantime NULL has their own agents at work to make this task more difficult. If a character buys into the GPU’s claims and trusts them over the Stars, they can have their powers temporarily restored through Ofiuco’s connection provided the character uses those powers to either stir chaos or prevent those attempting to sever the wires from doing so. At the first sign anyone given this gift might be turning against NULL, they will have these abilities revoked and will be targeted for elimination. Unfortunately, the Stars can not offer this same boon to those trying to sever the cords, as Ofiuco would immediately override their authority.

You’re free to give abilities to yourself if your muse would work with GPU, but you cannot unlock any abilities that fall under tiers 1-7 on the vsbattlewiki tiering system. You can, however, nerf existing abilities to fall under tiers 8 and up. If you have any questions about this please send it to the masterlist!

Ofiuco, now a mindless hand of the GPU, will travel throughout the city over the course of part 1 of the event. She will be altering the weather and safety conditions in each ward periodically to cause chaos and inhibit the efforts of those looking to free her. We will post a Disaster Report detailing these effects every two days, with the first coming an hour after this event post goes up.

FAQ

HOW LONG WILL PART 1 RUN FOR? Part 2 will begin at midnight EST on April 24th. However you will be able to start new part 1 threads throughout the entirety of part 2!

DO I NEED TO PARTICIPATE IN BOTH PARTS OF THE EVENT TO EARN CREDIT FOR RANKING UP? No! You only need to participate in one part to earn rank up credit. You don’t need to hunt for the wires or impede anyone’s progress by siding with the GPU either, you could interact with others during the other parts of the crisis or even just do a drabble with your muse finding safety if you find things to intense.

IS THERE AN EVENT REWARD? Yes! However you will be required to contribute 500 words to part 1, and then again to part 2 to qualify. The word count doesn’t need to be a single interaction and can be spread across multiples if preferred! It also doesn’t matter which side, if any, your muse is on during the event. While we haven’t decided on the reward entirely yet, it’s likely to be an ability or weapon unlock.

CAN WE INTERACT WITH THE AGENTS? Not directly unfortunately, although you can contact them via a special text number in your phone just to request abilities if you wish to support them. For reference you might see them out and about on the field observing, but they cannot be interacted with or harmed.

CAN WE INTERACT WITH OFIUCO? No! You might be able to catch glimpses of her and her glowing red eyes, but you cannot speak to or hurt her.

MY CHARACTER IS FULLY UNLOCKED AND, IN LESS THAN A FEW WORDS, OP. SHOULD I EXPECT ANY TEMPORARY NERFS FOR THE EVENT DURATION? There are only special instances where this might be the case. Conceptual powers that would make this too easy for either side have been sealed by the GPU, so anything that might be able to instantly delete people or places without room for a struggle are off limits. If you’re not sure about a power you have already unlocked, feel free to send a question to the masterlist!

DOESN’T THIS FAVOR VILLAINS THAT MIGHT WANT TO SIDE WITH THE GPU TOO MUCH? Yes, and that’s intentional! Our events are usually geared towards giving heroes a chance to shine, and so for part 1 we’re trying to subvert that. Part 2, however? ;)

WILL ANY DAMAGE DONE TO THE CITY DURING THIS EVENT BE PERMANENT? It’s possible! However we’ll make sure it does not affect any character owned businesses after the fact and will be fixed, though they might sustain damages during. Normally the city structures rebuild themselves anyways, but the GPU has disabled this feature through Ofiuco.

WHAT DOES GPU STAND FOR? ;)

CAN WE ACCESS THE BRANCHES DURING PART 1? The branches have currently been consumed by the mist that usually forms a perimeter around the island. That means leaving the city is impossible for the time being, and anyone who was in the branches before the event began will be teleported into the city.

#isola event #isola event: security breach

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zabrak-show · 4 years

Note

this is kinda long but can i ask for a comedy where maul is a total drama queen about how sick he is? that is, until he sees who the doctor is (rival!s/o, jedi, idc) BUT ITS TOO LATE to insist he's healthy

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

A/N: Lol here you go anon! This was fun to write I laughed a lot. Thank you so much for requesting something from me. The end is a bit of a cuckoos nest reference, not sure if anyone will get it, but still funny to me.

Summary: Maul has food poisoning and is ‘dying’. Savage calls the doctor and lo and behold who does the doctor turn out to be?

Warnings: bodily function humor (farts, food poisoning discomfort, see gif for reference lol), swearing, death of a certain character (not maul or savage), dumbassery on my part lmao, is this what the kids deem crack fic?

word count: 2.3k

“Brother, I do not think you should eat that,” Savage tried to reason with the smaller and angrier Zabrak who was about to shovel a leftover curry into his mouth.

“Quiet Savage. Nothing can harm me, I am far too powerful,” Maul protested, gulping down the yellow curry that had been sitting in the brothers’ fridge for maker knows how long. Savage turned his nose up at his brother’s poor dinner choices, tied his pink frilly apron across his waist, and began cooking his own dinner.

A delicious beef stew, sat simmering on the stove with an attentive Savage breathing in the steam and taste testing the broth every now and then adding spices and sauces as he went, a determined half-smile slapped across his face. Maul sat in his office just off the kitchen on his datapad doing the night’s work, his usual scowl overtaking his stunning features.

“Brother, if you would have waited, you could have enjoyed my delicious stew,” Savage beamed from the kitchen. Maul grumbled something incoherent from his office, but Savage continued stirring his stew and humming a happy little tune.

The next day started like any other. Maul held meetings with the Mandalorians about their next moves. Savage joined in, but he usually spaced out thinking about food and what he was going to cook for dinner later in the night. Savage was startled back to reality upon hearing a very deep rumble emanating from his brother’s throne. The room quieted down in shock at the noise not sure what to make of it.

“Lord Maul, are..you alright?” one of the Mandalorians asked in confused concern.

“I’m fine. It’s the chair. The chair. Something is wrong with this chair.” Maul clearly exasperated and sweating profusely, his usual deep crimson color now tarnished and a faded rust-colored instead.

“The..throne? What is wrong with the throne?” the Mandalorian questioned and stepped forward to investigate.

“No. Not the throne, I mean it’s fine, but it is broken… BACK away. I will have Savage assess the damage later. Let’s just wrap this meeting up for now.

“Brother, are you ok?” Savage leaned down to quietly whisper into Maul’s ear, “you aren’t looking so good.” Another deep rumble emanating from somewhere on Maul, inadvertently responded to Savage’s question. Savage, decided to take matters into his own hands, sensing his brother’s extreme discomfort and also being bored as hell by this meeting.

“Meeting adjourned.” Savage abruptly interrupted, all eyes now staring at the golden Zabrak. He felt his face grow hot with all the sudden attention on him and panicked scooping his brother up into his arms and running out of the throne room. Maul throwing a complete tantrum as he did this yelling, thrashing, beating his brother with his fists. The Mandalorians just stood and stared in confused horror at the spectacle happening before their eyes.

Savage ran down the halls of the Sundari Palace with Maul in his arms, not clear on what he was hoping to achieve or where to go with his now very angry brother.

“Savage, you need to put me down immediately,” Maul hissed through his teeth. Savage, not knowing any better than to follow directions, unhesitatingly dropped his brother on the stone hallway of the palace. Maul tumbled out of his arms like a rag doll making a pitiful sound as he hit the floor.

“Brother!! I am so sorry. Are you ok?” Savage hurriedly knelt down before Maul, now curled into the fetal position, the ashen rust color deep setting into his complexion now.

prrrrrrrrrraaaaaaaappppppppppttttttttt

It was a common sound for Savage having grown up with the nightbrothers and the endless fart jokes the brothers would play on each other, but in his short time of knowing Maul, his brother had never once farted in front of him. He always suspected it was because of the mechanical lower half of him, but never dared ask. The air soon filled with the foulest smell, almost worse than when Savage first rescued Maul.

“Brother, I wonder if you are sick?” Savage pensively asked the ashen curled up Zabrak at his feet as he picked him up on his feet to stand at his side.

“Of course, I’m sick you idiot. Take me to the doctor. I mean.. take me to the ‘fresh..” he heaved into his hand before finishing what he wanted to say.

“Oh man, brother, I gotta say, you absolutely cannot spew right now. I just got this armor and well, actually you gave it to me, but I mean, just no like..’blegh’ onto the new threads.”

Maul glared at his brother, shooting daggers at him with his fiery amber eyes.

“I’m not going to ..spew..” the word itself gagged him and Savage now hurriedly walked him to the refresher. Thankfully, there was one just down the hall and Savage opened the door and threw his brother in and stood guard outside the door. The noises emanating from the small ‘fresher were of the most offensive kind and Savage stood nervously trying to think of what to do or say as he stared down at his nails. A couple of Mandalorians walked by looking at Savage questioningly. He put his arm up against the wall in a flirtatious pose,

“Hey, how’s it goin?” he smirked to the Mandalorians and they skittered away confused by the beefy yellow Zabrak’s placement and actions.

“Brother, can I get you anything?” Savage asked through the door. Maul let out a low and long groan before answering,

“Get me a doctor, Savage. I...I’m...I’m dying.” Savage gasped at his brother’s revelation.

“Brother, you cannot die. I will NOT let it happen. I’ll find the best doctor in the galaxy for you. I swear it.”

Maul responded with yet another low groan. Savage ran off to call a doctor for his dear and very sick brother.

After Savage called for a doctor, he managed to get Maul to his bed to rest until the doctor would arrive. Maul writhed around the bed groaning in pain and discomfort. He tried to drink water and eat some of Savage’s infamous stew, but he couldn’t keep anything down and was left weak and miserable. Savage never left his bedside and was a nervous wreck for his brother’s well being. He hadn’t seen his brother like this since he picked him up on Lotho Minor. Maul reached his clammy hand out towards Savage and the golden Zabrak grabbed it at once.

“Savage, my brother, my apprentice...I...I do not know how much longer I have…” the crimson Zabrak trailed off, seemingly too weak to continue.

“Brother, do not talk like that. Your doctor will be here any moment and then you will be better than ever.” Savage attempted to reassure his brother, but it was no use. Maul was determined this would be the death of him and prattled on nonsensically about it until finally Savage just nodded and hummed as his sickly brother went on. Finally, they heard footsteps down the hall approaching the room.

“Oh at last, brother. This must be your doctor.” he rose from his bedside chair to meet the doctor at the door. There was a light knocking at the door and Savage opened it at once. A human man with brown hair and beard wearing a white lab coat stood before Savage.

“Oh thank you for coming doctor, right this way, it’s my brother. He is dying.” Savage motioned towards Maul, who had turned away from the door in his bed. The doctor stepped into the room, clutching his black leather medicine bag.

“Hello there,” he said as he approached Maul. Maul shot up instantly out of bed, recognizing his nemesis’ voice.

“Kenobi!” Maul screeched out with his last remaining amount of energy and then immediately collapsed on the floor.

“No, No no no, Savage! Don’t let this man touch me. He is playing a Jedi mind trick on you. He is no doctor!” Maul sputtered out trying to climb back into bed.

“I am so sorry Doctor. He has been spewing nonsense for the past 5 hours. I do not think he even knows where he is right now.” Savage patiently explained to the Doctor.

“It’s quite alright. He’s not wrong, I am Doctor Kenobi.” he smiled and outstretched his hand to Savage, and the Nightbrother hesitated but inevitably shook it.

“I’m not sure I’ve made your acquaintance, though,” Dr. Kenobi shared with the sickly Zabrak curled up in the fetal position on the bed. This admission enraged Maul and he attempted to get out of bed again fuming at the Doctor.

“I am surprised you could have forgotten me so easily, after I killed your master and you left me for dead on Naboo,” Maul piped out to the Doctor as he slowly walked towards him. Dr. Kenobi shuffled around in his medicine bag for something as Maul continued his advance on the Doctor.

“You may have forgotten me, but I will never for….OW, what the…” Maul crumpled down onto the floor as he trailed off on his diatribe. Savage looked on in horror as Doctor Kenobi removed a hypodermic needle from Maul’s flesh with a smug satisfaction.

“WHAT DO YOU THINK YOU’RE DOING?” Savage roared at the doctor igniting one end of his red lightsaber.

“Relax, it’s just a light sedative. We need to get him hooked up to an IV to replenish his fluids and electrolytes. Can you help me get him onto the gurney in the hallway?”

Savage grumbled, but turned his lightsaber off and helped the doctor move his brother into the gurney. They transported him to the nearby hospital and Doctor Kenobi hooked him up to the IV’s while Savage looked on with worry and hope in his heart.

“He’s going to be fine, Savage,” Doctor Kenobi reassured the anxious Zabrak.

“He said he was dying,” Savage blurted out, tears in his eyes.

“Food poisoning can feel like death, that is for certain, but once he gets his fluids and electrolytes back he’ll be back in full swing in no time. Right now, we must let him rest.” Doctor Kenobi put his hand on Savage’s back and led him out of the hospital room. Savage wandered around the hospital to kill time and soon found happiness at the sight of an ice cream cart outside the hospital. He strode outside forgetting his worries for a moment as the cart drew him in with a happy tune and bright colors.

Maul woke up in a dark strange room, slowly looking around for something to spark his memory of how he got here. He ripped the IV out of his arm and walked around the room, remembering the horrible sickness he had been battling and the loathsome Doctor Kenobi.

“I must escape this infernal place,” the Sith Lord exclaimed to no one. He looked down and realized he was only wearing a blue hospital gown. He searched the room desperately for his tunic and pants to no avail. He rushed out of the room, the hospital gown flowing with the wind of his swift movements, his robot ass in full view to any fortunate onlooker.

The hallway was bright in contrast with his dimmed room and nurses and doctors rushed around, paying very little mind to the crimson Zabrak sneaking around the hospital. Voices carried, machines beeped, papers shuffled, all the normal ambient noise of a hospital, as Maul made his way down the halls, looking for the nearest exit. He doubled back on one room, recognizing a force signature from his past.

“Could it be?” he whispered under his breath as he entered the dark room. A pale shriveled old man laid in the bed passed out. The smell of sanitizer and death ran thick in the air. The man was dying and laid there like a vegetable.

“Master…” Maul announced to the sleeping man as he grabbed a pillow from his bed and gently, but firmly placed it over his old Master’s face. The slight effort caused a small toot to escape the Zabrak, the remnants of his sickness still leaving his body.

“I would say ‘excuse me’ but…” Maul shoved the pillow down harder, his crimson forearms bulging with effort, “it appears you will no longer need excuses.”

The old man’s body flailed around in an involuntary attempt at fighting for his life, but Maul stood firm in his position, waiting for the movements to stop, killing his Master once and for all. Maul looked around the room for a way out. As anyone who just killed the man who was an abusive father-figure, teacher, and captor to them, Maul decided to rip the sink out of the foundation of the room in a feat of strength and force wielding. He lifted the busted sink over his head and threw it out the window, quickly jumping out of the hole it created.

It was quite the fall, but he used the force to slow himself down for the impact, the hospital gown blowing up around him exposing all his robot bits and pieces to anyone watching the crimson Zabrak flail out of the stone hospital building. Savage, just so happened to be taking a walk around the building eating an ice cream cone, when he saw the spectacle of his brother tumble out of the hospital. He ran towards where his brother landed with glee and confusion.

“Brother! You are alright? Why did you jump out of that window? Look, they have ice cream here!” Savage was so excited he couldn’t find what to focus on and stammered out a stream of consciousness on his brother.

“Yes. Savage, I am alright. Let’s go home.”

The two Zabraks walked off into the sunset, Maul’s bare robot ass cheeks clapping in the gentle breeze.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-..-.

I just love these brothers what can I say! They deserve to walk off happily into the sunset. Thank you as always so much for reading. xo

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maria-scribbles · 4 years

Text

glitter + crimson (let’s start a riot)//part five

summary: in the aftermath of hurricane agatha, the pogues are thrown into a mess none of them are ready to deal with. things that don’t exactly top sailor’s ‘fun things to do this summer’ list: surfing in the middle of a hurricane, getting punched in the face by a stupid kook, and stumbling upon a mystery that turns her and her friends into the damn scooby gang. when she said she wanted an exciting summer, she should’ve been more specific. 🙃

word count: 8.1k+ (it just keeps getting longer and longer 😅)

ship: jj maybank x oc (sailor flynn)

warnings n stuff: mentions of abuse/neglect/gambling addiction, child abandonment, anxiety, self-worth issues, jj being both soft af and hot for his best friend, weed usage, underage drinking, unresolved sexual tension, sailor being thirsty, swearing, guns, fighting, blood, that one trope where two characters only call each other by their nicknames/last names until they don’t because of ~reasons~ that makes me lose my shit every time (like a lot of the obx fandom, i also headcanon that jj stands for jesse james), references to the three stooges (jj=moe, pope=larry, and john b=curly and that’s a fact lmao), to all the boys i've loved before, avengers infinity war, and david attenborough, and a line heavily inspired/influenced by taylor swift's "dress" (a song that happens to be on the playlist for this series)

a/n: we’re finally entering canon territory, y’all (with a few tweaks, of course!) but i’m determined not to make this a rehash/retelling word for word of the show ‘cause that’s just no fun, so expect smaller pieces (vignettes, i guess?) of storytelling as i expand on canon with sailor and the rest of the pogues. think of it like a mixtape of sorts, but with words instead of music if that makes sense lol. this part originally covered episodes one and two but i wrote so much that i had to split it, so we're just covering most of episode one for now (i still can't even believe how much shit actually goes down in the pilot lol). i was veryyyy excited to write the kegger at the boneyard 'cause some ~juicy~ stuff happens there lol. fun fact: the title of this part is a term used by surfers to refer to getting up at the ass crack of dawn to hit the waves. as always, this is unbetaed so any mistakes are mine. enjoy!

gif credit to @jj-maybnks

~Masterlist~

part five: dawn patrol

The next morning, Hurricane Agatha hits the island with all the force of a knockout punch; the sound of rain pounding against the roof echoes impossibly loud throughout the Chateau but Sailor’s bewildered shriek is even louder.

“You’re gonna what the what?!”

John B shrugs as the stunned redhead, lounging on the couch, looks away from watching the storm and fixes him with a wide-eyed stare.

“I’m gonna surf the surge.”

“Hell yeah, bro!” JJ yells from his spot as her footrest, punching his fist in the air and she sends him an exasperated look, both at his enthusiastic encouragement of John B’s downright moronic idea and the fact that she already misses the feeling of his thumb drawing circles on her bare ankle.

“Are you two insane?”

“Possibly.” John B states, grinning when JJ follows that up with, “Absolutely.” The blond boy pushes Sailor’s legs off his lap as he stands which earns him another displeased scowl from the redhead. “Come on, Sail. Live a little.”

“Oh, I’ll live alright, but you idiots won’t,” She takes his offered hand, letting him pull her to her feet and then down the hall after John B as she continues, “because this is the dumbest idea you’ve ever had.”

“See, this is why we keep you around,” He replies, laughing when she dodges his attempt to ruffle her hair and dashes forward to beat him to the spare room. “We do something stupid, you and Kie read us the riot act. It’s tradition.”

Sailor grabs her long-sleeved rash vest -if she’s going to sit on the beach to keep an eye on these fools in the middle of a damn hurricane, at least she’ll wear something that offers a little bit of warmth- and heads to the bathroom to change. “Yeah, and then I’m there to patch you up when you inevitably hurt yourselves.”

“Can’t help that you have that healing touch.” His cheeky response floats through the closed door and she catches herself smiling -wide and just a little bit sappy- in the mirror.

After a quick detour to pick up Pope, who’s already drenched from sneaking out his window, the pogues (sans Kiara who never answered John B’s text in the group chat and, knowing her parents, was probably on hurricane lockdown) head to the beach, where the rugged gray surf hammers against the shore with unrelenting brutality. Sailor trails behind the others as they grab their boards and make a break for the water, blatantly ignoring the barriers that read ‘beach closed’ in large, impossible to miss letters. A few hundred feet down the coast, she can barely make out The Sandbar all boarded up for the storm and she thinks of her mother, wondering if she's riding it out inside or at home; either way Carmen's all alone and Sailor's stomach twists with guilt, both for letting her phone battery die so she didn't have to answer her calls and for leaving in the first place, even though it was the right thing to do for her damn sanity.

“These signs are here for a reason, guys!” She calls over the howling wind, squinting through the rain at the rough waves with her hands tapping uneasily against her thighs. Watching John B run into the ocean with reckless abandon (Pope following with a little more caution, thankfully) immediately puts her anxiety on edge so she sits down heavily on the wet sand, wrapping her arms around the knees pulled to her chest and looks up at the blond boy who stayed behind. “Aren’t you gonna join the other stooges?”

JJ shrugs at her question, glancing out toward their friends before dropping his board to the ground and taking a seat behind the trembling girl, his chest to her back. “This one can’t just leave you hanging out here all alone, lookin’ all sad and shit. It’s kind of pathetic.”

“Wow, you really know how to make a girl feel special, J.” She smirks and scoots back in the sand, lips curling into a full-fledged smile when he lifts his arms to drape them over her shoulders. As he tucks her securely against his front, the warmth of his body helps ward off the biting chill of the rain, and so does the fact that he knows her so well, that he knows this is exactly what she needs to help calm the panicking butterflies in her stomach.

He leans close, lips brushing against the shell of her ear when he whispers his next words like a secret, low and just for her even when there’s no one around to hear them. “Trust me, Sail, you ain’t seen nothing yet.”

She suddenly finds those butterflies in her stomach fluttering for a whole different reason.

The Chateau sits in complete darkness, the power having been knocked out since they returned from dropping Pope off at his house that afternoon. Sailor thinks it’s about ten at night as she lies on her back on the mattress of the sleeper sofa, listening to the wind rip through the trees outside with Binx curled up at her feet. The spare room was way too hot without a working fan, even after she braided her hair off to the side and changed into a crop top and shorts, so she and JJ had returned to the living room where it was cooler, if only by a little bit.

John B has already retreated to his room for the night; he’d been acting quieter than usual since their little adventure at the beach but between a lantern-lit dinner of semi-stale cereal and passing a joint around, she never got the chance to ask if he was okay before he made his escape. JJ lies beside her with his limbs all askew and from the slow rise and fall of his bare chest she’s 99% sure he’s out like a light until, out of the blue, he mutters into the stagnant air, “Can’t keep your eyes off me, huh?”

She blinks heavily -that weed must’ve hit her harder than she thought because she hadn’t even realized she’d been staring- when he lazily turns his head to stare back, a halcyon grin on his face and in the dark, his pupils are blown so wide she can barely see the blue of his irises. Her hand itches with a longing to sweep that one stubborn strand of hair away from his forehead but instead she blindly slides it to the left until she finds his and holds on tight; his fingers automatically lace with hers even as the space between his eyebrows furrows and the smile falls from his lips.

“Sail?”

“I don’t think my dad’s ever coming back.” The redhead’s mouth blurts before her brain can catch up, heavy words lingering like a storm cloud ready to downpour. The thought had been weighing on her heart for a while now, from when she’d first suspected it two months ago, and it feels bittersweet to finally admit it out loud, even when she hadn’t planned doing it.

Her bedmate is silent for a long time as he looks at her through the shadows and she focuses on the touch of his palm against hers instead of the awful mounting pressure behind her eyes -hadn’t she promised herself she was done crying over her dad?- until he asks quietly, “Why? I mean, good riddance 'cause he's kind of the worst, but why?"

“A feeling,” She murmurs around the sudden lump in her throat, biting the inside of her lip hard enough that she tastes the metallic tang of blood on her tongue. “He...he usually comes back after a month or two but this time it’s been almost five.” A bitter laugh escapes from her chest and she shakes her head. “I guess he finally decided he’s done dealing with my worthless ass.”

JJ’s eyes flash like lightning as he rolls over to face her, the hand not entwined with hers reaching up to cup her cheek. “Sail, shut up. Don’t you dare say that.”

“Why shouldn’t I? It’s true,” She says sharply, words acerbic and biting and full of a self-hatred that’s been poisoning her heart ever since she was old enough -eight and far, far too young- to discern the way her dad’s love for her was fickle at best, non-existent at worst. “I could’ve been a better daughter- a perfect daughter- and he might still be here and my mom wouldn't hate me. I should’ve tried harder-”

“Jesus Christ, Sailor!” He interrupts, calloused yet gentle thumb wiping away the tears she just now registers sliding down her cheeks and the shock of hearing her full name come from his mouth makes the rest of her vitriolic thoughts fly out the window. “Do you even hear yourself right now?”

The image of him blurs through the darkness in shades of black and she closes her eyes, jaw clenched in an attempt to quell the tremble of her lip as he goes on in his low, soft voice, “You should’ve tried harder to do what, huh? What could you have possibly done better?”

She’s quiet for a long time, so long that her tears run dry and all that remains is smeared salt on her skin because she doesn’t have an answer. What could she have done? That terrible thought in her mind rears it’s ugly head again, the one that tells her she’s not good enough, that everything’s her fault because she doesn’t do enough, but when she asks it what more she can do, there’s no reply. There never is.

“Hey, look at me.” She hears the rustling of sheets and feels his fingers slip from hers before they come to rest on her cheek, both hands now cradling her face; she opens her eyes to find him hovering over her and the sheer lack of distance between them makes her heart skip a beat. “You...”

“What about me?” Her voice cracks as she speaks and in a mirror of her from earlier, JJ shakes his head, causing that stubborn strand of hair to once again fall into his eyes.

“I wish you’d see yourself the way I do.”

Her breath catches in her throat. “And how do you see me?”

“Fucking amazing.” He says simply and in the dark, she can barely see the flush slowly starting to creep up his neck. “Smart, brave, and loyal as hell. A beautiful badass who doesn’t take shit from anybody. A girl who listens when someone needs to be heard.”

The redhead stares up at him with wide green eyes as he goes on and on, listing all these wonderful little things that her traitorous mind has a hard time processing, let alone believing; he really thinks about her like this? “You care so damn much,” “You’re kind but not afraid speak out,” “You’re the one I trust the most.”

Her hand slowly releases its tight grip on the sheets and slides up his bare arm, feeling the heat of his skin under her palm as she touches his face, not trusting herself to speak because she’s so afraid of saying something dumb or stupid and ruining everything ('like I always do,' her mind echoes).

“You’re my best friend, Sailor, and yeah, you’re not perfect. You drink and you smoke weed and you don’t get straight As in school but fuck, you’re real and so not worthless.” He says each word with such conviction that its impossible not to believe him, as much as her brain screams at her not to. “And I want you to know that what your parents think of you doesn't matter at all, got it?"

Without warning, she flings her arms around his neck and JJ loses his balance, falling onto her with a soft oof of surprise but Sailor doesn’t even feel the extra weight as she rests her face against his shoulder and finally finds her voice. “Thank you.”

He takes her with him when he rolls onto his side, arms wrapped tight around her waist and nose buried in her messy braid. “Just...trying to do the right thing, I guess. For once.”

She pulls back at his words, then leans forward and slowly presses her lips to his flushed cheek, just missing the corner of his mouth. She lets them linger for a beat longer than necessary before leaning back -not too far, just enough- and looking him in the eye. “Thank you, Jesse.”

He usually hates being called by his first name (she found that out pretty quickly into their friendship, “never call me Jesse” being one of the first things he ever said to her) but he just looks at her with a soft, endearing smile on his face as he leans back onto the bed, once again bringing her with him. “Promise me something, Sail?”

She glances up at him from his shoulder and meets his eyes. “Yeah?”

His fingers tuck an escaped red curl behind her ear. “Just...be you. Don’t worry about what anyone else thinks.”

She wishes it were that easy, that she could just step inside her mind and flip a switch and she could stop all those thoughts that’ve plagued her for years but it’s not. It’s gonna take time -time and a lot of patience and maybe even a miracle- but damn it, she’s gonna give it her all, not just for herself but for him and the rest of the pogues, too, the best friends she's ever had, so she nods and settles back down at his side. “I’ll try my best, J.”

“I know you will.”

"Sail, you're the best swimmer out of all of us. Think you can dive down there and check it out?"

The redhead peers over the edge of the HMS Pogue and into the water, where the murky shape of the sunken Grady-White sits thirty feet down on the bottom of the marsh, then nods at the rest of the pogues, an excited grin on her face.

"No problem," She answers John B, hopping up onto the very tip of the boat's bow with practiced ease before diving headfirst into the water to JJ's yell of "diver down!" It's dirtier than usual because of the hurricane but she doesn't let that stop her as she swims down and down until she reaches the top of the boat and pulls herself the rest of the way onto the deck, carefully scanning the area for...fuck. Honestly, she's got absolutely no clue what she's looking for but she assumes she'll know when she sees it.

'It' turns out to be a motel key, resting all alone on the floor by the steering wheel and she quickly reaches out to snatch it, sliding the silver key ring around her finger securely. When she pushes off toward the surface, she leaves the ghostly Grady-White behind with more questions than answers.

The rest of her friends are lined up in a row along the boat's railing, all staring at her with near identical expressions of anticipation as she breaks through the water and holds the key aloft with a triumphant smile.

"The Summer Winds Motel called, they want their key back!"

A little later that evening, Sailor would really regret finding that damn key but right now, she's having a great time dancing at the Boneyard with Kiara at the traditional post-hurricane kegger, second refill of beer in hand, spiked with Fireball from the flask tucked in her back pocket. To her, dancing's a lot like surfing -steady feet, swiveling hips, snapping shoulders- and she thinks that might be the reason she's so bad at it, anticipating the fluidity of water instead of the solidness of dry land. Or it could be that she just doesn't have rhythm when she's a little buzzed. That works, too.

"Ow, Sail!" Kiara winces as the redhead steps on her foot again, rolling her eyes fondly when she throws her head back with a loud, tipsy giggle.

"My bad, Kie!" She twirls in the sand, hair dancing around her shoulders like fire, and finds herself spinning right into a herd of dancing tourons, all too drunk to care that she's spilling her beer all over their feet. Large, olive-skinned hands grab her waist to spin her again and she laughs, smiling over her shoulder at a cute dark-haired touron as he slides one palm over to settle against the bare skin of her lower back. She pushes one hand on his shoulder with just enough resistance that he doesn't get too close into her personal space as he leans in to speak in a low Southern drawl, brown eyes turned a pretty bronze in the glow of the nearby bonfire.

"This probably isn't the best thing to say to a beautiful girl but you kind of dance like a giraffe."

Sailor bursts out laughing at that. "Hey, I think giraffes are very elegant creatures so I'll take that as a compliment!"

The boy grins and she smiles, too, letting him take her free hand and pull her into the throng of dancing bodies. He's almost as bad a dancer as she is but he's fun to talk to and together they gleefully show off their worst moves until their feet hurt -she's lost count of how many times she stepped on his toes- and her solo cup is empty. "Come on," She says and this time, she's the one to grab his hand and lead him over to the closest keg, where John B's dishing out beer with an expert flourish.

"'Sup, Sail," He lifts his chin in greeting as he fills her cup, smirking when she immediately pulls out her flask and adds a long pour of Fireball on top. "Who's your friend?"

"JB, this is Adam, he's visiting from Tennessee. Adam, meet John B, one of my best friends and a total moron," She makes quick introductions, smiling into her drink as he scowls and playfully sprays some beer at her feet before filling another cup and holding it out to the other boy with a jab at her expense.

"Be careful around her, man. She's a handful."

The touron accepts the drink with a shrug and a quick wink in her direction. "Good thing I happen to like 'em a little crazy."

Ugh. More than a little miffed at that, she rolls her eyes and takes a long sip of beer to hide her annoyance when Adam laughs and slings his arm around her shoulders. Calling her a giraffe was actually kind of cute in a very weird, endearing way but he instantly lost whatever points he had with her the second that 'c' word came out of his pretty mouth. She glances around the Boneyard while the boys start talking about surfing (she scoffs to herself, what does a farm kid from Tennessee know about that?), scanning the crowd for the rest of her friends and a chance to ditch him. Kiara's sitting on a big piece of driftwood, chatting up a stunning, deeply tan girl with glossy black hair -she waves when their eyes meet and shoots Sailor a cheeky grin before returning to her conversation- while the ever awkward Pope seems to be stuck in the middle of one of his rambles about autopsies as he stands around the fire, the willowy blonde beside him looking more and more uncomfortable by the second. She'd deliberately lost track of JJ a while ago, after she watched him getting a little too close to a tiny brunette, his hand low on her back as she passed him a drink and ran her fingers up his bare arm, coaxing that killer smile of his onto his face (that girl may have gotten his smile but Sailor got his eyes and they watched her until she pointedly turned away).

Honestly, she's a bit -okay, a lot- peeved. Here she is, thinking that they're the closest they've ever been before (they've always been close, ever since that day in sixth grade, but this is a whole different kind of close), and just when she feels like she may finally be ready to admit some things, some feelings, he's off doing who knows what with another girl; to be fair, she's off with another guy that she'd, until a minute ago, fully planned on kissing, but that's only because of him! Him and some weird need she has to keep him looking at her, to make him jealous -she shakes her head and takes another swig of her whiskey-spiked beer. Nope, nope, not gonna think about that.

Poor Pope looks like he's really struggling so Sailor pushes all thoughts of her blond best friend from her mind and goes to rescue him, ducking out from under Adam's sweaty arm and walking away without a backwards glance, ignoring the confusion in his voice as he calls her name. She pushes through the crowd to her friend and steps right in front of the girl he's trying to talk to, grabbing his hand with her free one.

"Come dance with me?"

The smile of pure relief that breaks out over his face makes her own widen as he lets her pull him back through the mass of bodies to a less-crowded part of the make-shift dance floor, the tension bleeding out of his hunched shoulders with every step.

"You're an angel, Sailor."

She laughs and wraps her arm around his shoulders, leading him in a carefree twirl across the cool sand. "Tell me something I don't know."

Like a leaf caught up in a whirlwind, he's helpless to resist her infectious joy as they dance, grinning like fools and poking fun at each other; for a while, the redhead tries to forget about stupid, clueless boys and focuses on Pope who, while still a clueless boy, doesn't expect anything from her but pure, unconditional friendship that she's all too willing to give (although she did have a teensy little crush on him when they first became friends, she got over it pretty fast the second he started talking about the bodily functions of dead bodies in explicit detail). She shares her drink with him, giggling at the way his face morphs from curiosity to disgust to delight at the taste of her cinnamon beer concoction and lets him down the rest while she drinks straight from the flask that she pulls from her back pocket.

"You've got a shadow." Pope says, slightly nodding his chin over her shoulder and she takes his hand again, slowly spinning herself under his arm to take a quick glance, rolling her eyes when she spots Adam staring at her from the edge of the crowd. "You know him?"

"Unfortunately. Thought he was cute, then he called me crazy." She tucks the whiskey away with a shrug at her friend's sympathetic wince, then steps closer to him and raises a conspiratorial eyebrow. "Wanna help me tell him to take a long walk off a short cliff?"

"Uh-"

"I think I can help with that," A familiar voice cuts off Pope's reply as JJ suddenly appears at her side, slipping his hand into her back pocket to spin her right into the circle of his arms before he plucks the flask from the other and takes a big sip in one smooth kinda sexy move. "Straight Fireball? Damn, Sail."

The redhead carefully schools her features into a blank mask but her body has other ideas, one hand instantly settling on his chest like it's second nature and her face flushing from more than just the alcohol as she casually replies, "You know I like things a little spicy." Completely aware of the way he's watching her every move, she snatches the whiskey back and downs the little bit that's left, trying and failing to ignore the thrill that shoots through her at those bright blue eyes of his darkening when her tongue darts out to lick her lips. Pope rolls his eyes at them both before muttering a quick 'see ya' and hastily melting back into the crowd.

"So, who're we telling to fuck off?" His voice is just a little strained and she feels her cool facade start to crack as she scowls, subtly tilts her head toward where Adam's still staring at her with an expression that looks like he ate a sour lemon. JJ spins her around to take a very conspicuous peek and her mouth curls into a grin, mask breaking completely when he shoots the touron a glare that screams 'try me, I dare you'; the heat from his hand still in her pocket burns as he leans in until his forehead rests on hers. "Let's give him a show."

Sailor hums and pretends to mull it over even as she coyly snakes her arms around his neck and pulls him closer, the harder panes of his body sliding almost sinfully against her softer curves as they sway together, "I don't know, you looked pretty cozy with that other girl earlier..." Is it kind of petty to bring it up? Yes, yes it is, but she can't resist toying with him like he did to her, just as she can't help the breathless gasp that escapes her lips when his fingers press hard into the toned flesh of her ass through her shorts.

"Why, Flynn, are you jealous?"

"Please, I saw that glare you gave him. If anyone's jealous, it's you, Maybank." She fires back while carding both hands through his hair and the pure gratification she feels at his slight shiver is nothing short of euphoric. Out of the corner of her eye, she barely takes notice of the frown Adam sends their way before he turns and stalks off toward the other side of the beach; honestly, she's so caught up in JJ and everything about him -the slow swing of his hips, the hands burning hot against the strip of her back exposed by her crop top, the darkened look in those ocean eyes- that she'd completely forgotten about the touron she danced with earlier in an effort to forget the boy she's dancing with now. She should've known it wouldn't have worked: Sailor could never forget JJ, no matter how hard she tries. He's like a permanent mark on her, a tattoo inked in gold, a beautiful, wonderous scar that she never wants to fade away.

"Seems like we scared him off so I don't have to worry about that anymore." His flushed face is so close she can feel his breath on her lips as he speaks and her eyes quickly flick down to his mouth on their own accord.

"And what about me?" She asks, twirling her fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck, heart beating fast in anticipation as he smirks wickedly at the way her own face turns cherry red.

"Sail, babe, you don't have to worry about a damn thing."

All one of them has to do is tilt their head and everything will fall into place and she can once again know what it's like to kiss him-

"Let it go, Topper!" A sudden, annoyed shout breaks the two apart before they can close that final distance (Sailor's not sure who would've made the first move and she's both relieved and disappointed they won't get to find out), turning away from each other in tandem toward the gathering mass of bodies chanting 'fight, fight!' at the shoreline.

"JB, he's not worth it!" At the sound of Kiara's voice, they take off running across the sand and shove their way to the front of the crowd just in time to see Topper Thornton in all his frat boy glory get absolutely slammed with a hard punch to the jaw, courtesy of John B. The kook barely hits the ground before he's back on his feet and lunging forward to tackle him into the water, landing a hit of his own square in the eye.

"What the hell happened?" Sailor grabs Kiara's elbow and the dark haired girl looks at her with wide eyes as the boys continue to roll around, exchanging brutal blows while a stunned Pope watches from her other side.

"I don't even know, they just started wailing on each other!"

JJ stands silent to Sailor's right, jaw clenched and hands curled into fists as he stares at the brawl and she reaches over to wrap her fingers around his wrist, thumb calmly running circles on his skin.

"Top, seriously! Stop it!" Sarah Cameron stands in the sand just before the crashing waves, yelling furiously at her boyfriend and throwing her arms in the air when he ignores her. "What is wrong with you?"

The moment Topper lands three punches in a row on John B's battered face, Sailor decides she's seen enough. She rushes forward without thinking to grab the blond boy's arm, pulling as hard as she can in an attempt to get him off her friend and barely has time to register what's happening when the fist he was aiming at John B suddenly swings at her. It connects solidly with her left cheek and makes her stumble back, her hand flying to her throbbing face before she goes down hard onto her butt in the surf.

"What the fuck, Thornton?"

"Did you just punch a girl?"

"Ohhhh shit!"

A cacophony of voices yells from the shore as the kook boy stares down at her, momentarily stunned when he realizes who exactly he hit, and it gives John B an opening to wrestle him back into the water and land a solid punch right to his nose. Everything happens so fast after that that the redhead, still reeling in a wide-eyed daze, has a little trouble keeping up. First, Kiara and Pope splash through the waves to her side, kneeling down to help her to her feet with their arms around her waist. Second, Topper gains the upper hand and straight up tries to drown John B, holding his head under the water while Sarah screams at him to stop. And third, JJ -reckless, bold, protective JJ- pulls out that damn stolen gun, effectively bringing the whole mess to a grinding halt when he stalks forward and presses the barrel to the side of Topper's head.

"Your move, broski." He threatens and the beach is so quiet everyone can hear the click of the safety being switched off. The kook slowly raises his hands in the air and John B emerges from the water, stumbling forward onto his hands and knees with a horrible wet cough.

It's all too much for Sailor's poor tipsy self to take. The world spins beneath her feet as her head starts to pound and her shaking fingers fail to find purchase on Kiara's and Pope's shoulders.

"Guys, I don't feel so good," She manages to whisper and their looks of concern (the former) and panic (the latter) are the last thing she sees before her legs give out and everything goes black.

The first thing she registers is the pain that radiates from the left side of her face, her whole head throbbing with every beat of her heart and the sound of loud whispering right by her ear isn't helping at all.

"That's the best you can do, J? Seriously?"

"The power's out! I can't exactly pull ice out of my ass, Kie."

Something semi-cold gently rests against her cheek and she audibly sighs at the little bit of relief she feels, her hand sluggishly rising to hold it a little closer as she mumbles, "I wouldn't want your ass ice anyway." At least she tries to: her mouth feels like it's full of cotton and she's pretty sure the only thing that comes out is unintelligible gibberish.

Sailor opens her eyes and finds herself lying on her back on the sleeper sofa at the Chateau, a passed out John B to her right. Pope sits on the edge of the mattress by his side, holding a beer bottle to his friend's black eye and he sends her a relieved smile when he notices she's awake.

"There she is," JJ says from her other side and she turns to face him, not at all surprised to find him already looking at her, and the unabashed concern in his eyes sends a golden warmth through her whole body. Her fingers slip down the hand that's still holding the bottle to her cheek so she can run her thumb over the delicate bones in his wrist in a silent thank you.

A different, softer hand rests on her knee and she tears her gaze away from his face to smile at Kiara as she says, "Good to see you're okay, Sail."

The redhead sinks back into the pillow in embarrassment and covers her eyes with her free hand. God, she really passed out, didn't she? She passed out after taking one lousy punch to the face by a fucking kook, no less. How completely mortifying. She swallows thickly and sounds like a chain smoker when she says, "I'm so sorry, guys. I'm a total idiot."

The other three conscious pogues start protesting all at once -apparently there's many, many, different ways to say she's not an idiot- and the resulting volume of their combined voices is enough to make her headache even worse. She sits up and scoots back until she's propped against the couch and sets the now warm beer on the side table before massaging both of her temples.

"Will you please shut up, I can feel my brain beating in my skull."

For a second, there's wonderful, blissful silence and then:

"Holy shit, thank you," A groggy voice says to her right and she turns to watch a bleary-eyed John B claw his way back to consciousness. "You guys are fucking loud."

"He lives!" JJ shouts, ignoring the four glares sent his way and reaching over to clap his hand against the brunet boy's shoulder. "Welcome back, dude."

"Ugh," He suddenly rolls onto his stomach -Pope deftly catching the bottle when it nearly falls from the bed- and his muffled voice floats out from the pillow he shoves his head under like an ostrich in the sand. "Knock me back out."

"Aww, poor baby." Sailor gives his back a sympathetic pat and chuckles softly when he blindly feels around for her arm, pushing it away with another deep groan and a 'fuck off, Sail' that lacks any type of venom.

"Okay, now that you're both kind of conscious, let's agree that neither of you will ever fucking do that again. Got it?" Kiara addresses John B and Sailor as she stands from the bed and crosses her arms, fixing the latter with a piercing look that makes her feel like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar; she opens her mouth to defend herself but before she can say anything, Kiara turns her furious gaze to JJ and points an accusing finger at his face. "And you! What the hell were you thinking pulling that damn gun out, huh?"

"Jesus Christ, Kie!" He suddenly rockets to his feet and throws his hands in the air. "Sail got socked in the face and JB was getting fucking drowned, I wasn't really thinking much at all!”

The dark haired girl can't seemed to think of a response to that and looks away, staring at the floor with her jaw clenched as Pope, ever the mediator, rises to his feet, too, and rounds the bed to step between them placatingly.

"Let's just drop it for tonight, okay? They need to rest." He says, nodding toward the two still on the bed before wrapping his hand around Kiara's elbow and turning her toward the front door. She immediately pulls her arm from his grasp but still nods in agreement, the hard look in her eyes softening when she glances at her injured friends.

"Yeah, okay." She says and glances down at her watch, wincing when she catches sight of the time. "My parents'll kill me if I'm not home soon, anyway."

"Come on, I'll take you guys home." JJ says with a conciliatory look in her direction as Pope tosses him the Volkswagen's keys from his pocket and when she nods back, a small smile pulling at the corner of her mouth, Sailor knows that all is forgiven, at least for now.

"Are you sure you're good to drive?" She asks and immediately rolls her eyes at his sarcastic reply of "Yes, Mom," and the obnoxious wink he shoots her.

The trio leaves after a quick round of goodbyes and John B waits until he hears the sound of his van driving away before finally emerging from under the pillow and rolling onto his back.

"Sensing the immediate danger has passed, the ostrich cautiously pulls its head out from the sand..." She says in her best David Attenborough impression, laughing when he tosses the pillow at her head with an amused grin.

"Ha ha. I was trying to avoid getting a Kie lecture," He explains, running both hands down his face with a heavy sigh. "It feels like my head's gonna explode."

"You and me both, dude." She carefully probes at her swollen cheek and is more than a little surprised to feel the beginnings of a scab forming near her eye. She knew Topper landed a solid punch but she didn't realize how solid that hit was until now as she catches sight of the tiny bit of drying blood left behind on her fingertips.

"That looks like it hurts. You okay?" John B asks and she looks up from wiping her hand clean on her shorts, stiff from dried saltwater, with a wrinkle of her freckled nose.

"I'm alright. How about you? No offense but your eye looks like shit."

"I'll live." He answers with a shrug as he pulls himself upright on the mattress and leans his head against the back of the couch. "Thanks, by the way."

"For what?"

He sluggishly turns his head to look Sailor in the eye and shrugs again. "For trying to help me out. Sorry I got you punched."

She smirks and reaches over to give his hand a brief, friendly squeeze as she replies, "It's not your fault I got myself punched. I'm sorry your ass almost drowned."

He snorts at that and she's relieved to hear it, knowing that he can still joke around and he's not, like, completely traumatized or something. Poor guy's already got enough to deal with without adding a mental breakdown to the list. She swings her legs over the edge of the mattress and slowly stands before taking a tentative step forward; when her knees hold and she doesn't fall flat on her face, she makes her way to his side and holds both hands out to him with a small, lighthearted smile.

"Yeah, you're delirious. Near death experiences do that to you." She says, helping him to his feet and, after looping his arm over her shoulders and sliding hers around his waist, the two teenagers carefully shuffle down the hall in the dim light of the emergency lantern on the kitchen table to his room, where she unceremoniously dumps him onto his bed. "Sleep it off. And for the love of God, please change. You smell terrible."

She goes to leave as he laughs again, tugging his shirt off and tossing it into the growing pile of clothes near the closet before saying, "Hey, Sailor?"

The redhead pauses with one foot in the hall and leans against the doorframe. "Yeah?"

"You know you're a badass, right?"

She laughs and sends him a wink but her heart is oh so light as she turns and heads to the spare room, calling back over her shoulder, "Nice to see someone acknowledge it. Now go to bed!"

The sound of the Chateau's front door opening and closing startles Sailor awake and she blinks heavily, wondering when exactly she'd fallen asleep. Last thing she remembers she was staring out at the fireflies through the open window as she steadily ran her hand down the length of Binx's back and their ethereal glow, combined with the breeze dancing around her shoulders, must've pulled her right under. Down the hall, she hears a loud thump, followed by JJ cursing as he runs into something and she giggles to herself, rolling onto her side to face the hall. He appears in the darkened doorway a minute later, rubbing his knee with a scowl on his face and she laughs louder at his quiet, venomous hiss of "fuck that fucking chair."

"Rude. It's not the chair's fault you always run into it." She teases and he shoots her a flat, unamused look before turning to glance down the hall toward John B's room, his fingers holding tight to the door frame.

"He's okay, you know. Told him to get some sleep." His head swings to face her when she speaks with soft words and even in the dark, she can see the way his tense shoulders slowly relax and his hand loosens, falling back to his side as he nods, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him.

"And you?" He asks, his eyes never wavering from hers as he kicks his boots off and pulls his shirt over his head; the sight of his messy hair and the muscles in his arms make it a little hard for Sailor to breathe, the gentle wind she once thought of as cool now doing nothing to help calm her flushed skin when she scoots over in bed to give him room to lie down next to her. Binx looks as disgruntled as a cat can look as he loses his comfy spot and jumps down from the bed, only to immediately leap onto the windowsill and stretch out.

"What about me?"

JJ rolls over to face her, reaching one hand up to cup her injured face and runs his calloused thumb under the cut on her cheekbone. "Are you okay?"

Nodding, she shifts closer and lays her head on his outstretched arm, covering his hand with her own and effortlessly fitting her fingers into the spaces between his. "I'm fine. Even better, now."

He leans forward to rest his forehead against hers. "Good, 'cause I don't know what I'd do if you weren't."

When those pesky butterflies come raging back with a vengeance, she realizes she's fighting a battle she hopes to lose.

The sound of a conversation in the kitchen, low voices drifting through the closed door of the guest room wakes Sailor early the next morning. Sunlight filters in through the windows and she squeezes one eye shut against the painful brightness, the other still squished into JJ's shoulder. His arm is a welcome weight slung over her hip and his deep, even breaths are soft against her forehead as he sleeps on, dead to the voices down the hall. With the corner of her mouth turned up in a small smile, she smooths his fine blond hair away from his face and runs her fingers along his jawline before carefully sliding out from under his arm and quietly heading toward the kitchen.

Pulling her hair into a messy ponytail, she rounds the corner and stops short when she catches sight of the person standing by the table, her cheerful 'good morning' getting stuck on her tongue; she was expecting Pope and Kiara, not the goddamn sheriff! Shooting John B a wide-eyed look that makes him shake his head (what the fuck did that even mean?!), the redhead forces a smile and hastily offers her a wave.

"Uh, good morning, Sheriff. Sorry to interrupt, just, uh, grabbing some water."

She just nods in acknowledgement before turning her attention back to the brunet boy and Sailor breathes an inaudible sigh of relief. Holy shit, is that woman scary. She heads to the sink and keeps one ear on the conversation as she quickly fills a glass with water and pops two aspirin, the headache from last night made even worse by the addition of a whiskey hangover.

"I didn't realize you had company, John B. Wild night?" The sheriff asks and Sailor meets her friend's eyes again, her anxiety rising when she sees his thinly veiled panic. Her back to Peterkin, she silently implores him to say something, anything -hell, she even tries to subtly mime surfing with her hands to help him out- but he stays silent, so she gathers her courage, plasters a smile on her face, and twirls to face her.

"Busy day, actually. We went surfing all day after cleaning up the yard." She says, jerking her thumb toward the heap of broken branches piled by the fire pit visible through the living room window; when the sheriff turns to look, she quickly elbows John B in the side, ignoring his huff of surprise as she nods her head in her direction.

"Yeah, surfing! All day." He blurts out, sending Sailor a lukewarm glare when she quickly mouths 'what the fuck was that?' before they both straighten up and spin back to the older woman just as she turns to face them again.

"Right." Peterkin hums and arches one eyebrow as she glances back and forth between the two teenagers. "Now tell me, how'd you both get those bruises? They look pretty painful."

"Oh, this?" Sailor asks, pointing at her cheek with a casual shrug, "I tried to hang ten and bit it pretty hard. My board caught me right in the face."

Peterkin looks at her for a beat longer than normal and the redhead does her best to keep her expression neutral as her palms start to sweat. "Surfing, really? Thought you were pretty experienced in that department."

John B adds, offering some much needed back up, "Even the pros wipe out every once in awhile, you know?" He crosses his arms and leans back against the counter. "My board got me good, too."

"Yeah, it just was not our day," She says with a nervous chuckle, refilling her water and slowly starting to back out of the kitchen, pretending she doesn't see the dismayed look her friend sends her way; her anxiety can't take another second of the sheriff's piercing gaze and she needs to get away fast, lest she start recounting every single second of their activities both legal and not so legal- from yesterday in explicit detail. "And I'm still pretty tired so I'm just gonna go back to bed for a bit. Nice talking to you, Sheriff."

After disappearing around the corner before either of them can reply, she creeps down the hallway, keeping her footfalls as light as she can, and she's so focused on trying to listen in on what Peterkin's saying that she runs smack into JJ, standing in the doorway of the spare room. His arm instantly darts out to wrap around her waist and pull her close, keeping her from falling right on her butt as he says, "There you are-"

"Shhh!" Sailor hisses quietly, covering his mouth with her hand, "The damn sheriff is here!"

He mumbles something into her palm but she she holds a finger to her lips, pushing him back into the room and softly closing the door behind them before pressing her ear against it and dropping her hand from his face. He mirrors her position with a question clear as day in his wide eyes, 'what the fuck?', arm still looped around her lower back.

"She's grilling him about yesterday," She says simply, then turns her attention back to the faint voices floating through the door. The duo listens in silence, trying and failing to discern what's being said until they hear the sound of the sheriff's boots on the front porch and her squad car tires crunching through the gravel as she drives away and they exchange a worried look. JJ had it right: what the fuck, indeed.

"Holy shit, guys," John B's voice suddenly says from the hallway. The door opens before they have time to back away and it sends them sprawling to the floor in a twisted pile of limbs; the brunet boy -who'd usually find something like that hilarious- barely reacts to their position and sends them both a tense frown, his next words dropping like a damn anchor in the marsh.

"We need to go check out that Grady-White again, and fast."

Sailor groans and lets her head fall back onto the floor with a thunk. "Here we go."

let me know what you think! fun fact: ostriches actually do put their heads in the sand, but it's not because they sense danger. female ostriches bury their eggs to keep them safe from predators and they'll occasionally stick their head into the sand to check on them and give 'em a lil turn 😊

taglist ❤: @sinkbeneathwaves @jiaraendgame @hmsjiara @maysbanks @alexa-playafricabytoto @sunflowerbecca @obxlife @obx-adventures @sexualparkour @coltonparayyko @miawantsapuppy

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loki-hargreeves · 4 years

Text

Steve Rogers x Reader - ‘It’s Always You’

Warnings: just the slightest hint of angst, fluff, alcohol, flirting Word Count: 2,2K Summary: Steve goes out with his Avenger friends after a stressful mission. You are a singer at the venue and your voice catches a certain someone’s attention. After your shift, Steve gathers up the courage to come speak with you. Author’s Note: I am a bit nervous to write for Steve because I haven’t written all that much for him before. Your feedback would mean a lot! Please enjoy this Xx

THIRD POV

Whenever the Avengers felt overworked or accomplished after long, tiring missions someone would always suggest they should celebrate. This time it was Natasha’s idea. She had mentioned that they should go out for drinks and then the suggestion morphed into a plan as everyone else seemed to agree with her.

Eventually, they ended up going to a fancy jazz house. Tony had pulled some strings so they could arrive without a reservation and surely, the place had tables for the few of them. As they arrived, the interior of the place took Steve by surprise. Sure, he had expected it to be classy, but it was surprisingly homey. The dark crimson walls, all the vintage décor and the wooden floor beneath their feet reminded him a lot of the old days. The further in they walked, the better Steve enjoyed this place. The main hall was large and the candles made sure to lighten up the mood. There was a stage by the dinner tables with familiar instruments. It wasn’t too warm nor too cold. It was just splendid!

“Damn, Tony how did you know of such a fancy place?” Natasha joked as they sat down around a round table. Steve sat between Sam and Bucky. Natasha, Tony, Pepper and Clint were on the other side.

“With a little help of my friend,” He smirked and turned to face Pepper. He couldn’t help himself when it came to pop-culture references. Even Steve recognized Tony’s remark to the famous Beatles song.

That’s when Bucky caught Steve’s attention, “Is it just me or is this place a little familiar?” He too seemed to have noticed to old-fashioned aura of the place.

“You tell me,” Steve smiled.

Just like that, they had gotten seated and they were waiting for their first round of drinks. Everything seemed simply fine and for a moment, they could forget who they were. For that night, they felt like normal people and the vintage jazz club helped Steve and Bucky relax furthermore.

When the band got on the stage, the few people in the place all turned their heads to see who they were. A few band members walked on stage and at last, a woman in a long, sleek dress and red lipstick. There was a spark in her eyes that caught Steve’s attention right off the bat. She was stunning. He wondered if they had made her dress like a singer from the 40s or if it was her own personal touch.

The band began to play music ever so softly, filling the space with a warm melody that Steve could swear he had heard before. Something about the song was so known. Unfortunately, he couldn’t quite put his tongue on it yet, so he focused on listening furthermore. Steve watched as the woman wrapped her fingers around the microphone, bringing it to her lips.

Her eyes scanned the dim-lit room and she seemed to notice Steve for just a moment and her eyes lingered on him. “Whenever it's early twilight I watch till a star breaks through. Funny it's not a star I see, it’s always you,” She sang with a voice that made Steve’s heart swell in his chest. She sounded like a siren under moonlight, luring people in with her beauty and grace. Her voice reminded Steve of home.

“…Whenever I roam through roses and lately, I often do. Funny it's not a rose I touch, it's always you,” She continued to sing, her smooth voice resting on top the music just perfectly. Now she took her eyes off Steve, turning to face her bandmates and it put a smile on her face. It was nice to see that they seemed to be friends. The easy flow between them made the music so much more enjoyable. “…If a breeze caresses me, it's really you strolling by. If I hear a melody, it's merely the way you sigh.”

Steve was definitely captured by it, perhaps also by her. He had completely forgotten about his friends for just a moment as he watched and listened the performance. The music, the place itself, everything combined allowed Steve to believe he was back in the 40s. In his mind, the raging war was over, and he was at one of his favourite venues with the people closest to him. The air in his lungs was burning and he had to take a deep breath. She was taking his breath away. Steve couldn’t remember the last time he had felt that way and he learned that he had longed for it.

“…Wherever you are, you're near me, you dare me to be untrue. Funny, each time I fall in love, it's always you.”

The trumpet player took over the singer’s voice which gave her a moment to catch her breath and look around her again. Once again, her eyes caught Steve’s and she smiled at him. Damn. That small, sweet smile nearly made Steve’s heart jump to his throat. The least he could do was smile back. He was so clearly captured by this performance. Even his friends had noticed the change in him.

“Hello? Earth to Steve?” Bucky tapped his shoulder playfully, making Steve drag his eyes off the stage. “See something you like?”

Steve didn’t want the focus to be on him, at least now like this. He brushed it off by relaxing in his seat and grabbing the drink that had arrived on the table, he had not noticed when. “I just hadn’t heard that song in a while. It’s a good one.”

“Sure, it is,” Sam grinned and took a sip of his drink too. They had definitely noticed that it wasn’t only the music that caught the attention of one of the super soldiers in the room.

The song came to an end of naturally, everyone in the room clapped them on. Just like that, they began to play another song. This one Steve hadn’t heard but it sounded like something from his time. He quickly realized it must’ve been released after he ended up frozen in ice and time.

And once again, her sweet, angel voice made him feel at peace. “Fly me to the moon, let me play among the stars. And let me see what spring is like on a-Jupiter and Mars…”

Fancy dinners and a few drinks later, the band walked off stage, being led by cheers. They were replaced by another band, but Steve’s mind was still tangled with the woman. He didn’t even know her, but he didn’t want to lose her. Somehow, he just knew that he had to find her to even know her name.

Just in time, the group suggested that they should go to a bar for some stronger drinks. Usually, Steve wasn’t in a rush to leave such a nice place, but it could give him a chance to see her once again before she would surely disappear.

“I’ll just use the bathroom before we go,” Steve excused himself, already halfway off his seat.

But of course, Bucky knew him almost better than he knew himself. “Ask her out before we go, will you? I don’t want to listen to you whining about it if you don’t,” He turned to Steve as he spoke, luckily keeping a voice low enough so the entire place couldn’t hear him.

Steve rolled his eyes, “If you insist!” No one else seemed to mind as he walked away from them. Good. Steve wanted to hurry, because the longer he waited, the harder it would be to find her. Or so he thought.

He nearly lost his breath when he saw her by the bar, leaning against it a little tiredly but there was still a smile on her face. Suddenly, Steve felt nervous. This night definitely reminded him of the good old days. He gathered up his courage, took a deep breath and walked to the bar, careful not to get too close to her. After all, Steve didn’t want to startle her.

She noticed him and it looked like she recognized him, either from the crowd or as Captain America.

Before he would make a fool of himself by just standing there, baffled, Steve decided to say something, “You were really good, err- your band and you. I liked the music.” That didn’t go as smoothly as he had hoped, but she didn’t seem to mind.

“Thank you. It’s good to hear a little feedback,” She shrugged, trying to play it cool but Steve sensed that she was slightly nervous. She looked at her fingers through her dark lashes.

In hopes to ease her mind, he came up with an idea. “Can I get you anything?” He wondered politely.

Suddenly, she looked up to face him again. “That would be nice of you, but you don’t have to get me anything.” Somehow, it seemed like she wasn’t used to such an offer. That didn’t make any sense in Steve’s mind. He was sure that men, and why not women too, threw themselves on her at any given chance. The only thing Steve wanted to do was to make her happy and it astonished him, because they were mere strangers.

“It would be my pleasure,” Steve hoped she would say yes.

After considering it for a moment, she softened up a little bit. “Only if you tell me your name,” She agreed to it. Once again, Steve felt baffled by her. It was almost too good not to be recognized. It made him feel human.

“Of course,” Steve chuckled, feeling silly for not having introduced himself yet, but neither had she, “I’m Steve, Steve Rogers,” He held out his strong hand for her.

She took it ever so gently, “Nice to meet you, Steve Steve Rogers. I’m Y/N,” She teased him joyfully as they shook hands, making the both of them chuckle lightly.

“What can I get you, Y/N?” Steve wondered as they let go of each other. Saying her name felt so good, as if he had always known her. He noticed how she moved ever so slightly closer to him, still leaning against the wooden bar.

“Surprise me,” Y/N encouraged him, her voice flowing like music even as she spoke. Was Steve imagining it or was there a flirty undertone to that? He nearly dared to believe the latter.

That he definitely could do. Just in time, a bartender walked up to them. “What would you have?”

“Two Southsides, please,” Steve answered and then faced Y/N to see her reaction. He was simply curious. The bartender nodded and grabbed two glasses right away. It seemed like the retro drink was a go-to at a place like this, for the bartender grabbed what was needed fast and got to work.

She raised her eyebrows and a smirk curled up on her face. “Old-fashioned, I like that,” She admitted.

“If you only knew,” Steve replied mysteriously. He wondered what she would think of him if she knew who he truly was. Would be she repulsed or intrigued? He knew better than most how his status could startle people away from him – and gravitate others towards him.

“Knew what, Rogers?” She tilted her head curiously, now resting her jaw gently against the roof of her knuckles.

That’s when their drinks arrived, two glasses of minty and limey deliciousness, topped off with mint leaves. Steve paid the bartender and told him to keep the change. That way, he could return his attention on the woman beside him as soon as possible. She had shown signs that she liked to play games and Steve knew that he could do that too. “Maybe I’ll tell you on another day?”

“Are you asking me out?” She grinned, struggling to hold it back. When she had seen him in the crowd, he had caught her attention. She couldn’t remember the last time anyone had looked at her that mesmerised. Knowing that someone actually liked the music at the jazz club was heart-warming. And it was extra nice when it was appreciated by someone like Steve. She wouldn’t admit it yet, but he was quite charming.

Steve raised his cold glass in his hand at the same time as she did. “Yes, yes I am. What do you say?”

Y/N felt her cheeks heat up. Steve was clearly flattering her. He was so different from the other people who had flirted with her. Steve seemed genuinely like a nice man, a gentleman. “Sure, yes. I can’t say no to that face, now can I?” Y/N gave him her reply happily. They had just met, and she felt so intrigued by him already. Cheerfully they clinked their glasses before they tasted the drinks. Y/N was pleasantly surprised by the refreshing drink. It was nice after that performance. The cold liquid soothed her throat and allowed her to relax.

“Are you surprised?” Steve wondered. By now, he was less tense. Her positive answer gave him a little boost of confidence.

“Pleasantly so. I wonder if you’re full of surprises, Steve,” Y/N flirted a little bit. She felt rather courageous around him.

Steve leaned closer to her for a change and she didn’t seem to mind it at all. “You’ll have to find out for yourself.”

A/N: Thanks for reading! It was so tempting to make this a smut, but I might just have to leave that for another time. I would love to hear your feedback. 💚

#Steve Rogers #Steve Rogers fanfiction #Steve Rogers x Reader #Steve Rogers x You #Steve Rogers x Y/N #Steve Rogers imagine #tw alcohol #MARVEL fanfiction #avengers fanfiction #avengers x reader #mcu fanfiction #captain america #captain america fanfiction #captain america x Reader

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fanficfeeling · 5 years

Text

No Place Like Home - Jaskier x Modern!Reader

A/N: Jaskier x Modern!Reader for anon. Thanks for the request, I had a lot of fun with this! Also, I feel like all some of these references might be a little bit dated, which I didn't realize until they were all in there. They're all still fairly famous though, so I hope you don't mind! I went with she/her pronouns on this, but if anyone wants to see me start using gender neutral pronouns, please let me know, or just add specific pronoun requests in your requests!

Request: hi! a jaskier x reader request for the witcher! would love a one shot of a modern!reader, who decides to follow the boys, either about them singing modern songs or making stupid modern day references that they wouldn't understand!

Warnings: Possible second hand embarrassment ahead? Also Wonderwall

Word count: 2300

Requests are OPEN

~~~

Y/N starts her day like she does every other day: by opening her window and breathing in the comforting Velen air.

Y/N doesn't know how she ended up in this world. For the first few months, she searched for a way home, or even just for answers about why she found herself in this place. She ended up empty-handed, and with no more leads to follow. She was forced to give up, and start making her own way. It was by a pure stroke of luck that she'd ended up with the house, and with a fairly easy, flexible job to pay for it, and after a while, she found she preferred this life to her old one. She stopped wondering why, and let this place be home. After the few years she's been here, she finds she's glad it all happened the way it did.

She finds herself smiling as she looks out into her little village, reveling in the peace it offers.

"Get out of here, you filthy Witcher!"

And that shout from the main road was the end of Y/N's peaceful lack of involvement. As she saw people go running towards the sound of the growing shouts, Y/N quickly left her home and began to follow suit in that direction, eager and anxious to see what could cause such a fuss. When she reached the scene of the commotion, her shock was evident.

There, trying his best to make his way through this small village with a bard at his side, was a Witcher. An actual, real life Witcher.

Well, as real as this world actually is, anyway.

Even more shocking was the townspeople harassing the seemingly unassuming men -- it seemed that most of the town were in on heckling them, despite their usual, friendly neighbor attitudes. It seemed the Witcher was used to the treatment, as he did his best to shield himself and his horse and continued walking calmly forward, although the bard was a bit more theatrical in his defenses, holding up his lute to cover his face and sighing dramatically at every passing insult.

I wonder if this could be the pair that the internet flipped out over when that tv series came out before I left? I never got into it, but I'm fairly sure that's where I am, and their faces seem familiar.

Y/N's heart nearly stopped when the Witcher's golden eyes made contact with hers. It seemed to take him but a split second to make a decision and begin a new course in her direction. She held her breath the entire time he made his way over.

When he finally stopped, he stopped directly in front of her, looming over her, far closer then she expected him. He was shockingly intimidating.

"You don't seem in the business of heckling strangers. I'm here to clear out a noonwraith I'd heard of in the vicinity. Do you know anything about that?"

It took Y/N far too long to gather enough courage to speak, and when she did, she could only hope her voice wasn't shaking too much, "A... noonwraith? Oh, yes, the ghost in the abandoned barn, just a little ways out of town. It's, uh... been a nuisance for farmers and travelers for some time."

The Witcher let out a small, "hm." in response.

"I could... show you to the location, if you need assistance? I know this area very well, and I would be happy to assist you if you would rid us of the... wraith."

"Geralt! How could you leave me to fend for myself like that?" The bard came up behind the Witcher quickly, like a burst of raw energy. He smiled when he spotted the Witcher talking to the woman, "Hello! Thank you for not hurling insults at us as we walk past! My name is Jaskier, a humble bard, at your service." Swiftly, he reached for her hand and pressed a swift kiss to her knuckles.

"Oh! It's really no problem, It certainly does no harm to not go out of my way to be rude. My name is Y/N, it's nice to meet you."

"Y/N has offered to lead us to the noonwraith, Jaskier. Y/N, how soon can you be ready to go?"

"Oh, well, I'm off work today, and I really don't have that much to take care of this morning -- if you'll allow me to grab some better shoes I should be ready in minutes."

"Take your time, I need some to prepare potions for the battle."

"You can come spend some time at the tavern with me while we wait for him." Jaskier punctuated his sentence with a wink.

Y/N felt her heart palpitate, and she'd never scrambled to get ready so quickly for anything.

When she found him in the nearly deserted tavern, he sat with a notebook in his hands, writing something down leisurely. If he's a bard, Y/N assumed it was some sort of song.

"Jaskier, yes? May I join you?"

He flashed a smile up at her, "Anything for such a beautiful woman." Y/N felt herself flush at the compliment as she sat down.

"So, Y/N, where are you from? You don't have the Velen accent, nor do you have the same... dispositions as your fellow townsfolk, I can't imagine you were born and raised here."

Y/N felt her heart speed up once more, just a fraction, "I wasn't. I came here just a few years ago, just sort of ended up here by chance. I was looking for something, but it didn't exactly work out, and I just never really bothered to leave. I'm thankful enough for it, Velen suits me very well."

"Very cryptic and fascinating story! You are dodging my original question though."

"Only because I don't think you'd have heard of where I'm from. It's not very well known around here."

"I'm not from around here."

"I doubt it's well known where you're from, either."

Jaskier gave her a quizzical look, but left her odd behavior alone, "Well then, what does the mysterious lady do for fun?"

This was the thing Y/N struggled with the most in this world. Her access to all her favorite tv shows, books, and movies were gone, and all she was left with were the only few books she had at her disposal, most of them terribly dry reading. Even worse: every pop culture reference she ever knew was now rendered completely useless.

"Well, I read as much as I can, with what little I have, and I go for long walks, but other than that, I mostly just work. Not much to do around here, honestly. I sing a little to myself sometimes to pass the time-"

Jaskier's face lit up like a Christmas tree, "You sing? What songs do you know?"

"I highly doubt you'd have heard of any of them."

"Nonsense, my trade is music! At the very least, you must sing something for me!"

"No! I don't sing for other people-"

"But if I've never heard of these songs of yours, you must educate me!"

"That's not exactly my job-"

The pair only stop upon hearing a gruff voice clear behind them.

"Are the two of you done?" Geralt asks, a minor level of annoyance evident. Y/N is the first to scramble to her feet, embarrassed.

Their departure is smooth, and Y/N promptly informs the pair that the journey should take but a half an hour or so.

In response, Jaskier slings an arm over Y/N's shoulder, flashing her a smile, "Plenty of time for you to teach me a song or two."

"Are you really back at this again? My answer is still no."

"But would it not benefit my musically inclined soul to be exposed to a bit of your culture, wherever it may be from? You mustn't let my poor, culturally deprived soul wither away like this, fair lady."

"Don't you travel for a living?" Before Jaskier could sass her further with another response, Y/N took a less than graceful stumble over a tree root.

Geralt stopped walking and grabbed her arm as she steadied herself, "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I think I'm fine. Unfortunate that such a lack of grace had to come out around near strangers, but that's on me, I suppose." She laughed it off, playing glaring at the root that tripped her, "I'm walking here!" She said quietly to herself in her best fake New York accent, reveling in her classic movie references that no one else in this world could understand. At least they brought her a little bit of personal joy.

"Y/N, did you just speak to that tree root?" Jaskier asked, trying his best not to look concerned, and failing miserably.

The lady flushed crimson, "Oh, no, well, actually yes, but it's just a -- well, I guess it's just a reference to something you wouldn't understand. I apologize, that must have looked odd."

Jaskier let out a small chuckle (which Y/N had to admit, was distressingly attractive), "You've said a lot of odd things so far, but I'm certainly not minding."

In an attempt to escape her ever-expanding blush, Y/N began walking ahead of the men, "Right, well, on we go then."

After but a minute of silence, Geralt spoke up, "Y/N, would it suit us better to take an actual path, instead of just cutting through the forest?"

Y/N turned back to him and shook her head, "This will get us there much quicker, if we cut through here we'll end up right across the field from where you're trying to go."

Jaskier shook his own head now, "For a non-native, you do know this area very well."

"Elementary, my dear Watson. To anyone living in the area, anyway. Besides, I take lots of walks, remember?" She laughed to herself, and quietly shook her head once more as another movie scene came to her, muttering quietly, "Roads? Where we're going, we don't need roads." Thankfully, the men seemed to not hear that second reference, but she failed to see as they turned to each other in confusion over the first.

Y/N's impressive knowledge proved accurate after about the half an hour she promised, as the trio cut through the trees and ended up in a large field, a run-down barn just visible on the other side.

"See? That's where you're trying to get to."

"Thank you very much, Y/N. I'll take it from here." With that, Geralt strode off through the field, radiating with purpose. He really was truly quite intimidating.

After a moment of silence, in which Jaskier decided to make himself comfortable as he sat down, Y/N spoke once more, "So do we just wait here now?"

"That we do."

"What if he doesn't come back?"

"He will. No need to worry your pretty little head about that. However, if you're concerned about the waiting time, you could sing me a song to pass it."

Y/N sighed, "You truly won't give that up?"

"I had no plans to."

"I never should have told you about that."

"Or perhaps it was destiny that you did."

"You're so determined to make clever remarks, but that one didn't even make sense."

"Fair enough. Perhaps I would stop talking nonsense if you would keep me occupied with a song."

"Fine! Fine." Y/N let her shoulders sag in defeat as she sighed. "What do you want to hear, then?"

Jaskier pretended to contemplate her question for a moment, but he spoke far too quickly when he replied, "Sing me something romantic."

"You sly bastard. Alright, let me think a moment. Uh..."

What's something easy to sing, something well known enough that I'll know all the words, something romantic? Oh, I have a bad idea.

"Well, I suppose this could be interpreted as romantic." Y/N had to suppress her laughter. "And it's terribly catchy, so I know all the words quite well. And it's been around for quite a while. A lot of people don't like it because it's sort of overdone-"

"Y/N."

"Alright, fine, anyway, here's Wonderwall.

Today is gonna be the day that they're gonna throw it back to you By now you should've somehow realized what you gotta do I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now"

Before Y/N knew it, the song was over - perhaps she'd just heard it so many times she blacked out the rest of the song - and to her dismay, Jaskier began clapping.

"And you say you don't sing for other people. That was lovely."

"You only say that because you haven't heard the song a million times."

"Also because your voice is joy to listen to."

"Oh stop it, you're just saying that-"

"Oh, is that the battle you want to fight?"

~~~

By the time Geralt had slain the wraith, Jaskier had insisted that they walk Y/N home ("Geralt, she helped us out here, it's the right thing to do!" "I'm quite capable of finding my own way home." "We insist."), and the trio had finished their more leisurely walk back along the main road, it was approaching evening. Before Y/N even knew it, they were at her front door.

"Ah, here we are. Thank you gentlemen, for your assistance."

"And thank you for yours, my lady."

"Anytime, Geralt. It would be my pleasure to assist you again if you're in the area and need a guide."

"I may yet take you up on that. Until then, have a good evening."

"You too. Safe travels."

The duo began to walk away, leaving Y/N feeling just a little bit sad, when Jaskier turned around and walked back to her. When he reached her, he grabbed her hand and pressed yet another kiss to her knuckles, like he had that morning.

"I will surely be counting the days until I can have the privilege of hearing your voice and odd sayings again."

Before she could retaliate, he had run off, and soon he was out of sight. She felt a little less sad now.

This is a home worth having. Yes, I'm quite happy things turned out this way.

#jaskier x reader #jaskier x modern!reader #the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #modern!reader #should i tag wonderwall?#I'm tagging wonderwall #wonderwall #fluff #reader x jaskier #jaskier fanfiction #modern!reader x jaskier #mine #request #modern day references in a fantasy setting'

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yamayamawrites · 4 years

Text

meet me in the hallway - kiribaku

A/N: Hi friends! As always, thanks for taking the time to read my ramblings! This is a fluffy one-shot because I have so many WIPs that I’m stressed and needed to just write without the pressures of updating a fic. Anyways, hope you enjoy! You can also read this on AO3 by clicking here or read below. Thanks again for reading!

‘Meet me in the hallway.’

It’s a simple text message, really. And Ei would be stupid not to oblige. Bakugou, wanting to meet up in the hallway at midnight on a school night? Really, it can only be an adventure waiting to happen. Or a League attack, or something. But Ei’s willing to risk his sleep for it.

So he changes out of his blatant pajama pants into pajama pants that can pass as casual joggers, throws on a Crimson Riot hoodie and steps into the hall. And Bakugou’s there, just as he expects him to be, twirling his car keys around his finger. “Didn’t think you’d be awake, Shitty Hair,” he grunts, and his voice is quiet in the still of the midnight air around them.

“You know I don’t sleep,” Ei teases back, flashes a sharp-toothed grin and Bakugou doesn’t even look back at him, just nods towards the elevator.

It’s not the first time Ei has been invited to go on a drive with Bakugou. It seems that, now that Bakugou has his license and a car he can access whenever he wants to, he wants to drive everywhere. Ei’s gone with him to fast food places during lunch, they’ve gone for random drives across the countryside. He wonders why, though, Bakugou’s dragging him along for a midnight ride. It seems a little…sudden. Not that Ei is one to complain about spending time with Bakugou. They’re practically inseparable now that they’re third years.

The parking lot is sort of a hike across campus. It’s closest to the third-year dormitories, but that doesn’t mean it’s close, in general; they walk a kilometer or so in the cool summer air to get there. Ei’s shivering, even in his hoodie, and he wishes he had a warm Quirk like Bakugou’s. Bakugou wears a muscle tee and basketball shorts, and it’s unfair how nice Bakugou is to look at – those biceps, calling his name. He invites himself to look, since Bakugou can’t see him – his back is turned to him now, as they search for Bakugou’s car.

It’s easy to pick out among the rest. It’s a red muscle car, and really, Ei thinks it’s a perfect visual representation of Bakugou’s personality in a car. He lets himself into the passenger side and brings his feet up to the dashboard, only for Bakugou to swat at him. And he laughs, and it feels wonderful to laugh. The way here was nothing short of silent, even a little uncomfortable, but with Bakugou muttering under his breath about Ei being disrespectful to his car, Ei can’t help but laugh more.

“Where are we going, Bakugou?” Ei asks as Bakugou puts the car in drive, goes as quietly as is possible in a muscle car towards the side gate.

“A drive,” Bakugou grunts back. He doesn’t look over at Ei, which Ei expects. When Bakugou’s driving, he wholly believes he has never felt safer. Which is odd; Ei remembers the first time he got in the car with Bakugou, fully expecting to face his friend’s road rage and end up in an accident. But Bakugou drives carefully, and while yes, he does cuss at people on the road under his breath, he somehow manages to keep his anger from boiling over.

“Where to?” Ei prods, rolls down his window despite the cool air. He likes to rest his arm out the window.

“Around,” Bakugou says, vague and quiet.

He gets like this, sometimes. Ei has been lucky enough to be let in on the secret. Bakugou isn’t always the stoic, angry, brooding teenager he portrays to the rest of the class. Sometimes he’s soft, quiet, contemplative, and Ei’s running theory is that when Bakugou goes to bed early, it’s because he’s had enough of his tough-guy act. That’s not to say Ei doesn’t believe that when Bakugou gets like this he couldn’t still beat the shit out of a villain. He’s just…he’s not so biting. Not so spiteful, maybe, is a better word. And Ei has never appreciated being let in on a secret more.

Ei turns on the radio, quiet and lulling in the late night. Bakugou’s rolled down his own window, and he lets his left arm sit on the edge of it, his right steering lazily as they follow the long, curving road from the U.A. campus. The wind, even, doesn’t seem to whip as hard at night. It provides ambience, along with the soft heavy rock playing from the radio between them.

Bakugou glances over as they turn out of the campus, onto the main road. Ei has yet to see another car on the road – which is expected because they just left campus, but less expected when they turn onto the road that he’s only seen busy. He blinks, stares out the windshield at the road, protected on either side by tall trees that are just beginning to hint at yellowing leaves with autumn fast approaching. “Bakugou,” Ei shatters the ambience between them with his voice, no matter how soft he speaks, “is everything alright?”

It’s like throwing a pebble into a lake, the way his voice ripples around them. Like it’s echoing in the quiet car, even though his voice has fled out the open windows, the sound of it nearly swallowed to begin with by the wind rushing through the car. It has Ei shivering, curling up on himself, but he doesn’t want to roll them up. And Bakugou glances over at him, then returns his gaze to the road, shakes his head minutely.

“Everything’s fine,” he says, but he doesn’t tack on an insult and for some reason that’s more of a tell than his head-shake. Ei leans closer to Bakugou’s face, crossing over the partition between them just a bit.

“You don’t look fine,” he states pointedly, and Bakugou reaches out and nudges his face away by the cheek without looking.

“Everything’s fine,” he repeats, and Ei can feel the warmth where Bakugou’s palm had just nudged him as he recedes back into his seat. He presses his hand to it, wishes it would linger, but it’s gone the second he brings his cold hand to it. “Are you cold?” Bakugou asks, and he’s not looking at Ei and Ei can’t really fathom how Bakugou can do that – how he can gauge Ei’s feelings without even looking at him sometimes.

“I’m fine,” he says quietly. If Bakugou can lie to him, he can lie to Bakugou.

But the problem is that he can’t, because Bakugou’s reaching into his back seat with his right arm – his left has come back from resting on the door to steer – and his eyes are still on the road while he’s reaching blindly into his back seat, and he comes back with a blanket. “I’m okay, really,” Ei says, but Bakugou’s thrusting the blanket into his lap anyway. And Kirishima has to wonder why the blanket is here, because Bakugou’s almost always too hot with his Quirk.

“I know you,” Bakugou offers as an explanation, and Ei’s really glad it’s dark in the car otherwise Bakugou would be able to see how red his face is. “You get cold easily.”

Ei laughs, rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “I guess I do,” he says quietly. Then, he adds a soft, “Thanks.”

Bakugou just hums, turns the radio up a little louder. It’s a song Ei has heard before, playing from Bakugou’s dorm room on nights he goes to bed especially early, and Ei knows by now that Bakugou is fleeing so he can work out in his room or something. He’s still never been inside it, even in their third year here, but he’s caught glimpses of various weights and things splayed across the floor while walking by and Bakugou has his door open. Which is rare, admittedly, but over the years Ei’s managed to catch a few looks.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going now?” Ei teases as they’re nearing the small town just a few miles from the campus, heading towards one of the twenty-four hour fast food locations. And Bakugou exhales, loudly enough to signal to Ei that he’s annoyed.

“I want a coffee,” he gripes, and Ei blinks. Then he laughs.

“That’s it? You’re taking me on a late-night coffee run?”

“I didn’t say we were heading back after this,” Bakugou snaps back. Ei continues to laugh, the sound nearly drowned out when Bakugou turns the radio up even louder.

And they pull up to the driveway, and before Bakugou orders he turns to Ei. “What do you want, Shitty Hair,” he grumbles, but his voice isn’t as malicious as usual. Ei flushes a little, and now that they’re under the harsh fluorescent lights of the fast food joint, he’s sure Bakugou can tell.

He smiles, sheepish, and shrugs. “I don’t have any money, I left it at—”

“I didn’t ask if you had any money,” Bakugou shoots back. “What. The fuck. Do you. Want.”

“Strawberry milkshake?” Ei replies with an even wider grin. Bakugou rolls his eyes.

“Those are terrible for you,” he mumbles. “Can’t believe you’re as fuckin’ ripped as you are, Kirishima.”

Ei laughs, the fact that Bakugou used his name not evading him. It’s rare that Bakugou refers to him as anything other than Shitty Hair, and he’s taken it to mean that Bakugou’s feeling affectionate – that, or, the few times they’ve been in serious danger Bakugou has referred to him as pointedly not Shitty Hair. But most of the time they’ve been in danger like that, it’s been out on work studies, and usually Bakugou refers to him as his hero name in those instances. Still, it feels nice hearing Bakugou call him something else.

But ‘Kirishima’, he saves that. He saves that for moments like these, when they’re alone, and it feels like the rest of the world is turning a blind eye to them.

“…and two sides of fries,” he’s saying to the poor teenager who got stuck with the graveyard shift. Ei’s about to object, but Bakugou turns and glares at him. And the teenager is relaying their order total, and Bakugou’s thanking him gruffly.

Their order isn’t tricky, but it takes a bit. And Bakugou’s patient. Kirishima’s found this, too, when they go to get fast food over lunch. Bakugou is endlessly patient with people when it’s just them. And when Ei has pointed this out in the past, Bakugou has scoffed and said “I’m only patient to people who deserve it, and teenagers working shitty jobs at shitty fast food places deserve it.” And that makes Ei smile remembering that Bakugou isn’t always the angry ball of fire he portrays himself to be. He’s just a little emotionally stunted when it comes to the rest of the class.

Ei wonders if maybe it’s his doing.

They pull into a parking spot around the other side of the building. Bakugou passes Ei his shake and a side of fries. “You didn’t need to get me these,” Ei says softly.

“Shut up, Shitty Hair. I know you wanted some.”

Ei can’t deny that – he always wants fries from this place, even if they are pretty terrible for him. He glances over at Bakugou, eyebrows raised, a small smile on his lips. Bakugou just glares back, shovels a few fries into his mouth then sips his iced coffee – the combination is pretty gross – and lets the radio play.

They sit there until they finish their fries, and then Bakugou is getting back on the road, heading past this town and the opposite direction of the U.A. campus. And with the windows down at Ei’s strawberry shake melting in his hand, he’s glad he has a blanket over him. They’re heading for the next town over, driving through neighborhoods and going down slow roads. Exploring. Bakugou’s turned the music down by now so they don’t disturb people sleeping in the neighborhood, and the wind whips less intensely down these roads.

They end up at the shore of this small town, neighborhood houses on either side of them as they pull into the small parking lot of a private beach. “Did you know about this?” Ei asks, a little in awe considering the view they have. It spans wide, and a harbor hooks around to the left but doesn’t obscure much of the open water. He stares, though he can’t see much. It’s beautiful, watching the moon reflect off the slow-moving waves of the ocean, beautiful as they lick up the sand and beautiful as they recede. Ei wishes, impulsively, that his feet were in the water.

“No,” Bakugou replies quietly. He doesn’t sound angry anymore; he sounds exhausted, which is fitting considering the clock on the dash reads that it’s just past one in the morning. Ei had been drifting in his seat while they drove, but being stopped here now he’s wide awake. “I just saw a sign pointing to a private beach. Wanted to see the ocean.”

“It’s gorgeous,” Ei coos, and he hears Bakugou snort a laugh beside him. Normally he’d request not to be teased by Bakugou, or crack a joke or flash a grin but he can’t do any of that right now because it’s beautiful. It’s wonderful, and he finds himself itching to reach for the door handle and push himself out of the car and run, run along the sand and trip and fall and let the waves swallow him.

“Do you want to go sit down there?”

Ei turns his attention to Bakugou, who’s watching him now, waves forgotten. The normal crease in his forehead is gone, and in its place are soft eyebrows and half-lidded eyes. Ei reminds himself to offer to drive back, if Bakugou’s coffee doesn’t kick in. And he nods, once, short and happy, and they’re clambering out of the car. Ei brings the blanket with him.

There’s a bench down by the water, on a short dock that juts out at the edge of the private beach property. They sit there, watch the waves roll up. Every once in a while there’s one strong enough to wash some water onto the dock, but they don’t get wet sitting here, and Ei sighs, leans his head onto Bakugou’s shoulder. He feels his friend tense but he doesn’t pull back, and eventually Bakugou relaxes into the gesture, too.

“Eijirou,” he says, and it reverberates off the silent air around them the same way the waves do. Ei looks up, cheeks flushed; he doesn’t remember if Bakugou’s ever addressed him by his first name. It sounds nice on his tongue, Ei thinks idly, and he watches as Bakugou looks between the waves in front of them to the moon above. Finally his eyes settle on Ei’s, and his gaze softens, and Ei is sure he’s never seen Bakugou like this.

“Y-yeah?” he murmurs, cursing his own voice for cracking. Damn, he’s nearly eighteen and he still sounds like he’s twelve. “What is it?”

Bakugou looks back out on the water, his face beginning to scrunch that way it does when he’s overthinking. That way it does when what he’s thinking about is important and he can’t bear to make a choice because what if it’s not the right one, and Ei gently brings a hand up and rests it on Bakugou’s knee. And the surprise snaps Bakugou out of whatever spiral he was falling into, and he shoots a glare over to Ei, but it’s not very passionate. “I…need to tell you something,” he says softly.

And this is the part where Ei’s heart breaks, he thinks. This is the part where Bakugou says something along the lines of ‘we can’t be friends anymore after graduation’, ‘I’m leaving the country after we graduate and leaving all these dumb fuckers including you behind.’ Or, it’s the part where he says ‘listen, I know you’re crushing on me but that’s fucking gay, dude’. And he forces a smile to his face, hopes for the former to be what leaves Bakugou’s mouth because he can’t stand the thought of not being around Bakugou, of him not being there. He can handle not being friends, but if Bakugou isn’t there he doesn’t know what he’ll do.

“What is it?” Ei repeats, and his voice is soft with the anxiety of what will leave his best friend’s lips next.

And Bakugou doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t say anything, he just returns his attention to the water. His face is contorting again, and this time Ei doesn’t stop him; he watches. He watches the grimace on his face, like he hates himself, like he hates Eijirou, and Ei can almost feel tears prickling in his eyes. Is that the problem here? Has Bakugou figured it out, and now he hates him? He suddenly feels the need to put space between them, but the bench is small and if he moves even a little he’d have to support his own weight doing squats, and he doesn’t want to do that.

“I…” Bakugou starts, fixates his gaze on the far right pole on the dock, watches the water splash up and lick at it.

“Yeah?”

“I think I’m in love with you,” he blurts, all at once, and time stops. Ei’s convinced even the waves have stopped; they’ve mellowed at the confession, as if Bakugou has threatened them with his squinting, told them if you fuck this up for me I’ll end you, and Ei is just…confused.

“Huh?” he says smartly, sits up a little so he can get a better look at Bakugou.

“Look,” Bakugou’s face is hardening, his jaw is setting, and Ei can only watch him close himself off again, “I don’t give a shit if you don’t feel the same. Okay? I just needed to fuckin’ tell you because it’s eating at me, Shi—”

And Ei’s regained the use of his limbs, and he closes the gap between their faces, their lips. He swallows that stupid insult, he swallows Bakugou’s fears, and the angle is a little weird so he forgets the blanket, kicks it aside as he throws one leg over Bakugou’s waist, straddles him on this stupidly tiny bench and almost sends them to the ground. And Bakugou’s fingertips burn, they burn against Ei’s hips, where they hold him tightly, but he seriously can’t think about anything beyond his lips on Bakugou’s, moving like they’ve done this a million times.

It’s anything but delicate. It’s hungry, passionate; it’s three years of looks exchanged, of being too close together and not close enough all at once. It’s Ei’s fingers knotted in Bakugou’s hair as he forces their mouths closer together; it’s Bakugou’s hips rocking involuntarily upwards into Ei’s and shared groans lost forever between their throats; it’s needing nothing else in the universe because Katsuki Bakugou is all that Ei has ever wanted. And they pull back, and when they do it feels all too soon. They’re panting, Bakugou’s cheeks are bright red, Ei’s sure his cheeks look the same.

“Fuck,” Bakugou whispers between them.

“Mm,” Ei hums his agreement.

They kiss again, and once more for good measure. They’re softer this time, more intent on learning each other’s mouths than desperately fighting for something that might not be true. They realize, in tandem, that they have time. Time is still, here. It’s nearing two in the morning, but here it’s as if time has frozen over, as if the waves are lullabies and the moon overhead is a night light, and it feels dreamlike but Bakugou’s lips are so raw and real against Ei’s that he can’t help but believe it to be true.

The blanket ends up getting soaked by a wave that rocks too hard on the dock and drenches the poor thing. Bakugou gripes about having a wet blanket in his car and Ei laughs, teases him and tells him that he sits in his car all the time, and they’re back to their normal bickering; Bakugou chases him around with a fireball in his hands, Ei hardens himself because knowing Bakugou, he will throw it. They wring out the blanket the best they can and put it in the trunk.

And Ei’s not cold on the way home, even without a blanket and with the windows down.

#my hero academia #kiribaku #bnha eijiro kirishima #bnha bakugo katsuki #fanfiction #ao3 writer #ao3 #one shot #pure fluf

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