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chosenimagines · 3 years

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Boring (Draco X Hufflepuff Fem!Reader X Harry)

Universe: (M) Harry Potter

Summary: Y/N has a free lesson and Draco helps her with her work. She is confused because their path never crossed and then Harry gets mad when he sees them. Y/N doesn’t know what is going on!

Used Prompts: -

Warnings: -

Language: English

Request: Yes/No

Can I request draco x hufflepuff dense fem reader x harry They trying to get reader to fall for them. (by Anon)

Requests [Open]

A/N: I am sorry that I didn’t fulfill the request of a dense Hufflepuff reader but being dense doesn’t make sense because of the traits of Harry and Draco neither of them wouldn’t be interested if she would be dense so I made her think she is boring. I hope you are okay with that! Again I am really sorry but it was tough to build a story…

This One Shot/Imagine can be found as well on my Wattpad ^^ My requests are open on Wattpad and Tumblr

🖊️ 🖊️ 🖊️ 🖊️ ____________________________________________

Lame. Nice. Uninteresting. Inconspicuous. Words that have always been used to describe my life and personality. I had always believed -no I had been convinced of it- that I was far too boring for my fellow human beings. Too normal! Too usual. But I had ever known that I was miles wrong with the assessment of fellow human beings!

I based it on statements that my family and my former muggle friends had made about me. Therefore, my assumption had been quite logical! Theoretically, I received the first proof to the contrary to my view at the age of eleven, when I received my letter from Hogwarts, and it became apparent to me that I was not a normal person but a witch. After all, magical powers in the world I grew up in were something extraordinary and special. Still, it hadn't changed my mind! I hadn't interpreted into it. Then I came to Hogwarts and quickly there was a new definition of "the same old". There were only two differences: New school and the magic in me found its way out. At Hogwarts, I was part of the average, so I stuck with my opinion. That's just the way it was! I had acceptable grades, got along with the material as much as possible, I learn for the lessons and the tests. In my spare time, I helped Professor Sprout and experimented with Neville in the greenhouse. There wasn't really more in my life. I had a weakness for Quidditch, but I didn't play. With the broom, I had never been skilled enough to remotely think of sharing the annual tryouts. That was my life! Unspectacular. Simple. Uncomplicated! I hadn't wanted to shape my life differently until sudden interest in me was shown...

"Hey, Y/N!" Neville appeared on my right. As agreeting, I gave him a smile. I was happy to watch him every time. He was my closest friend! "I'll take care of our Mimbulus Mimbeltonia seedling later.Would you like to help me?" What kind of question was that? Of course I wanted to help him, so I nodded. "Of course I'mthere! My last hour today is magic potion, so where do we want to meet?" But Neville waved it off. "I'll pick you up at the classroom! We go to Professor Sprout together." My smile got a little wider -mainly to encourage him. Neville was the dearest person I knew. I credited him with it, which I told Neville. "I'm looking forward to it!" I added. Already the shy Gryffindor haddisappeared after ashort wave. Relaxed I strolled on. I had the next two hours off and wanted to use them to do some homework that I was a little behind. But I didn't make it to the common room. In front of the library, someone stood in my way! Perplexed, I stopped. Draco Malfoy? I couldn't imagine what he wanted from me. Carefree, I wanted to walk past him when his voice held me back. "What does someone like you want from Longbottom?" asked Draco to know. I did not answer him. If I was honest, I didn't understand the question. Someone like me? How did he see me? It didn't make sense to me. I shook my head and continued on myway. A moment later, Draco grabbed my wrist. He pulled me to himself. My chest grazed his. We were so close that I could smell that he was wearing perfume. It smelled fresh; expensive. The scent suited him! "You didn't answer my question, Gorgeous." My breath stopped as Draco's finger gently stroked my cheek. I quickly turnedback to my politeness. "Neville and I work together in the greenhouse. We are close friends!", I replied. Again I tried to make my way to my common room. Again, I was held back by Draco. "Not so fast, Beautiful! What are you up to now? I'm free! Maybe I can help you.", he whispered to me. "I want to do my homework. But that's difficult!" To clarify my statement, I raised my hand, which Draco was holding. His face came even closer. The tip of his nose was only inches away from my cheek. "I could help you with that! I'm pretty good at school, you have to know...", he murmured in my ear. "Okay…", I breathed. I was completely overwhelmed when Draco pulled me into the library.

"You have to be careful! If you mix this herb with this one, the mixture will explode.", I explained to Draco, who shook his head laughing. "How thoughtless of me! Thank you." He hastily corrects the last sentence of his essay. "Are we-" "MALFOY, KEEP YOUR HANDS OFF HER!" A violent hit hit Draco's temple and he fell from the chair. Harry then stepped into my field of vision. Harry?! Wait a minute, what was actually going on here? I didn't understand the world anymore! "KEEP YOUR DIRTY FINGERS OFF HER! LET THEM OUT OF YOUR PERFIDIOUS GAMES! SHE DIDN'T DO ANYTHING TO YOU!" Furiously Harry hit Draco and I sat there stiff. It was only at his next words that I was able to move. "JUST BECAUSE YOU HATE ME, YOU DON'T HAVE TO LET IT ALL OUT ON Y/N, MALFOY!", he yelled. I ran towards the two rivals. With all my force I tried to drag Harry from Draco. Although I used all my muscle power, I couldn't stop him from continuing to beat our classmate. "Harry, PLEASE! Let him go!", I pleaded over and over again. My words did not get through to the angry boy. But I didn't give up, I kept talking to him. Violence is not a solution. Especially not when the violence was absolutely pointless and unfounded! "Harry-", I tried again, but an elbow hit my eyebrow and I stumbled a few steps backwards. "Y/N! I'm so sorry. I didn't want that! I'm so sorry...", Harry repeated over and over. I gently but firmly knocked his hands away. "That's fine! ", I replied. I didn't blame him. "That was not your intention. But you beat Draco on purpose!", I resented him. Draco had already picked himself up and was now kneeling next to me. "I'm bringing you, Madam Pomfrey!", he said, giving Harry a look I couldn't interpret. Absent, I took Draco's hand, which he offered me to get up. "Thank you!" I murmured to myself. I didn't know if Draco heard it, but I didn't have a head for it. I was concerned about the events of the last hour, because they made no sense. At least they didn't make sense to me! Draco Malfoy showed sudden interest in me and was unusually nice. Harry Potter physically attacked Draco Malfoyas he sat Draco and me together in the library. I couldn't explain it to myself, but I knew it wouldn't get boring in the future.

#draco x hufflepuff!reader #harry x hufflepuff!reader #harry x reader x draco #draco x reader x harry #harry potter #draco malfoy #slytherin imagine #hufflepuff imagine #gryffindor imagine #slytherin x hufflepuff #gryffindor x hufflepuff #hogwarts #hp #one shot #imagine #harry potter one shot #requested #requests are open #thanks for the request

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sup-hoes-its-me · 4 years

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Golden (Kakashi x Reader)

A/N: you are in a relationship with kakaski, but after an accident, you have amnesia, and can’t remember him anymore. angst baby. Very feminine Civilian!reader (you own a bookstore, so cliche lmao) essentially, this series is mindless romantic indulgences i wrote mostly for myself, but if other people can enjoy them then i did my job as a fanfic writer.

A/N: im definitely not writing a fanfic for every song on fine line...haha

Word count: 5600

_____

He lay awake at night after the incident, imagining the moment he truly knew he was in love with her. Completely infatuated with this beautiful woman working at the bookstore. It was the only thing he could do now that his entire world had come crashing around him. With everything that happened in the hospital, this was the only way he knew how to cope.

He drifted off into the dream once again.

Kakashi stood by the front gates of the village, a paperback book he had just bought in his hand, folded over so he could read with one hand. One more time before he left for this mission, one he knew would last longer than anyone would like, he visited the old bookstore in town. He wanted to think he just stopped by to stock up on reading material, but that wasn’t it.

It was always about her.

When he saw Y/N running up to him, her apron nearly falling off and her hair in disarray, his eyes widened and he set the book down by his side. She was out of breath when she got to him, pressing her hands to her chest to get herself put together. Her brows furrowed deeply as she lifted her eyes to meet his.

“Kakashi,” she exclaimed.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?”

“I know you’re going on this long mission and you won’t be around for a few months, and I can’t stand the thought of you leaving without me telling you this,” she said, and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t insanely curious what she had to say. She was a sweet village girl, and he frequented her store, quite a bit actually. On occasion, he would drop by a few times in a day just to say hello. He definitely wasn’t slick.

He waited for her to continue and she didn’t hesitate. “Every time you leave, I get this pain in my chest. I worry about you day and night because I know the life of a shinobi is never guaranteed. I just couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t tell you this time, if I kept acting like the coward I am.”

“I see? Well, what’s on your mind?”

“I-I’ve never felt this way for anyone before, and I don’t know how to deal with it, so here goes,” she told him, taking a deep breath before her next words, “I think I’m in love with you, Kakashi Hatake. I think I’ve loved you since the first time you stepped foot in my parents store.”

“I…”

What was he supposed to say to that?

“You don’t have to say anything back. It doesn’t bother me, I know how closed off you ninja are. Just please, take my words and hold them close on your journeys.” She paused, clenching her soft fists by her sides. She wasn’t scared of rejection, not at all. She was only scared that Kakashi might not care about her words at all. “Please, don’t forget someone loves you.”

In that moment, he felt his heart stop beating, only for a second, but he felt it. Shifted awkwardly, not wanting to let off that he was getting even a little emotional at her declaration. He was tough as nails, the copy-nin. Not some lover boy, even if he wanted to be. Even if he wanted to swoop in right then and kiss her to pieces.

All he could say was, “I’ll keep that in my mind. Thank you, Y/N.”

“You’re welcome. Now, don’t fool around out there so you can come back to me in one piece!” she laughed, feeling tears bubbling up in the corners of her eyes.

He found himself smiling back at the young woman. “You got it.”

__________

Kakashi was never really one to express his feelings. Generally, he kept them inside to mourn alone. It was just in his nature, it was nothing personal with the people he knew and trusted. There was just something about Y/N that made him drop down some of those thick barriers.

His girlfriend was a normal woman, working long shifts in the village bookstore since she was a teenager. She never attended the academy, wasn't chakra sensitive, nothing in particular was so outstanding that she was noticed. Nothing on the surface, actually.

It was her smile and her laugh, the way she could make anyone feel like they were important and wanted, that attracted Kakashi to her in the first place. From the first time they met as teenagers in the bookstore aisles, he knew he was caught in some sort of trap. For a minute, he compared the feeling to that of a genjutsu, even though he knew that was far from a possibility.

To him, when she smiled, it felt as if everything was going to be okay. All the pain and suffering disappeared when she was around. He really couldn’t understand how that could be happening, with the world crumbling around him everyday.

That was a particularly rare attribute among ninja folk, whose lives led them to believe that happiness wasn’t achievable and death was common; pain was so normal for him. It was refreshing to have someone around who didn't think like that, that could change the tone of a room in a moment with just an ounce of positive energy. Y/N was innocent to the majority of these harsh realities that the ninja faced, for the most part.

As with most people in the village, her parents lost their lives during the invasion of the nine tails. She was alone for a long time, but despite that, she tried to find joys in reading, in stacking new books on shelves, in talking to unique individuals that would stop by. And as she aged, she realized her most favorite customer was one with a masked face, and a love of gushy, perverted novels.

She was even friends with some of his closest friends, Gai, Yamato, Sakura. She reached out to them, getting visits here and there while she worked during the day. After he informed his closest companions of his blossoming affair with the bookstore girl, they just had to get in an insider view. They kept visiting after the first meetings. Sakura bringing lunch, Yamato helping her with repairs, and Gai just bringing his brightest smile and a boatload of jokes and giggles to share at the front counter.

It was only a matter of time before they fell into some weird friendship, a civilian and one of the top shinobi of their village. He was gone half the time on missions, and sometimes, when he was ANBU, she wouldn’t see him for weeks at a time. Occasionally, when a mission was long and difficult, she would hear pawing at her window late into the night. When she pulled back the blinds, a small dog would be sitting there with a folded piece of paper in his mouth, waiting for her to take it.

She loved those letters, they became her prized possessions. There was nothing else she loved more in the world than seeing his kind words written out on paper, his declarations of love that he would never dare say aloud. To him, it was easier to say those things on paper, to not be around when she read about his feelings for her. He was still attentive and kind to her in person, but the letters spoke with a romanticism that he couldn’t.

Y/N practically glowed when she spoke to him, so in love with him she could barely keep it restrained. He knew this. He knew she was as deeply in love with him as he was entranced with her. It had been 5 years since they started dating, and he prolonged the inevitable path of marriage as long as he could. Having a girlfriend was one thing, but marrying someone felt like a burden he couldn’t shoulder. He wanted to, but it just seemed like too much work, too much risk.

After years, he realized the waiting just wasn’t worth it. They were only getting older as the time went by. She just warmed his empty heart, he knew that was something only she could do for him. He needed that.

And that's why he sat in the comfort of Ichiraku, Sakura by his side, sipping on some soup. She was the only one he truly trusted with this knowledge, the only one who could give him genuine advice. He just needed to tell someone what he was about to do. He sat there, his fingers hovering over his pants pocket, eyes trailed down at the table.

"What did you want to talk about, Sensei?" She had asked.

"You really like Y/N, right? Think she's good for me?"

She smiled with a small nod. "Of course. Y/N is so sweet. She makes you so happy I can tell. I think it's really good for you." It was true. Sakura didn’t know what her sensei was like before he met the woman. That was years ago before she was even born. What she did know is that someone with that much pain seeping from his heart could use some love in his life, a stable shoulder to lean onto. If anyone was stable, it was her. Without any cares in the world other than worrying for her boyfriend and keeping her business afloat. Her trauma was behind her, unlike some of the shinobi that carry those with them for the rest of their lives. Guilt, anger, resentment.

He pulled a tiny, drawstring bag from his pocket and fiddled with the strings between his fingers. "When I was in the Land of Fire last month, I picked this up from a merchant," he explained, pulling open the bag and pouring out the contents. A small ring clicked against the bar table. "Take a look, tell me what you think."

She dropped her spoon and reached over for the ring, holding it gently with the pads of her fingertips. It was beautiful. It sparkled like sunlight hitting clear blue waters. A stone rested in the center, flecks of lavender and blue floating in the sparkly gem. When she turned it in the sunlight, more colors appeared and changed, morphing into something spectacular in every sense of the word.

"Kakashi-sensei, it's gorgeous. Are you going to give this to Y/N?"

"After all this time, it seems inevitable really. Time flies."

"Oh my gosh. I'm so happy for you. She's going to be ecstatic, I just know it. She loves you more than life itself." He liked hearing that reaffirmed for him, even though Y/N frequently told him how she felt, daily ‘I love you’s. Unlike him, those words were not rare, but each time it filled his chest with warmth.

He smiled fondly, watching as she continued to turn to ring in her hands. He never thought this would happen to him: marrying someone. He didn't want to lose anyone else. He didn't want to put that risk on someone, especially Y/N. He had suppressed his feelings for her for a few years before he finally succumbed to the urge to tell her. Finally, after years of longing and avoiding the obvious, she became his, and he was undoubtedly hers.

It was a hard decision. He knew it was wrong to risk it, put her life on the line, but now he felt ridiculous sulking around waiting for something that was never going to happen. Nothing had happened to Y/N yet, and it had been years. She was gonna be fine. He was only being paranoid, he had convinced himself.

"Tonight. I'm going to help her close the store and do it then."

"You're a good man, Kakashi. She’s so lucky to have you protecting her and watching out for her, ya know? You two balance each other out perfectly,” the girl sighed. If only she could find a love like her sensei had with his significant other.

"Thanks, Sakura.”

They finished up their conversation, and he paid the bill for her, feeling so high that a bit of money from his wallet didn't even bother him. It was slightly later than he was supposed to go see her. The bookstore should have already closed by about 10 minutes.

All he could think about on the way there was how she would laugh about him being late, as usual. She would hug him to say hello, like she usually wound, and then give him a kiss on his masked cheek. He would help her quickly reorganize books before pulling out the ring. To him, it wasn't really about her saying yes at all so much as this moment, proposing to the love of his life, meant he could leave his curse behind and be happy for once with someone he cared about. She was his savior, an escape from a mindset so ingrained he couldn't fight it on his own.

But when he walked up to the front of the store. He noticed the lights still on even though she would have shut them off by now. The sign out front still flipped to open. He didn’t think it was too weird at all, he just thought maybe she was waiting for him to come along to finish up.

As he walked in though, he noticed the whole reams of paper strewn across the floor. Piles of books were aggressively thrown from the shelves, scattered around the floor like someone side swept them from the stands. Ink stained the checkout counter where she normally sat, inkwell tipped over the edge and dripped onto the carpet which she took care to keep clean. It was disastrous getting stains out of that carpet, she always said to him.

Most importantly, on some of the papers scattered around, he spotted blood splatter, drips of half dried blood present all the way from her desk to the back door. He felt panic rise up from his stomach all the way to his throat, and his heart raced. It was rare something made him truly terrified, and this was one of those moments.

He searched, god, he scoured that entire building over and over again for the woman. He checked every aisle and under every table. He ran upstairs to her apartment and checked in the few small rooms she had, scared she was cowering in her bathtub or hiding under the bed. He ran to the neighboring stores, asking if they'd heard from her, and received nothing but empty words. He just wanted her to be anywhere that he could find, anywhere but in the arms of someone evil.

His Y/N was gone, and he was hopelessly at the mercy of his curse once again.

______

He wasn't even allowed to go on the search mission for his girlfriend. Instead, Tsunade sent Yamato as well as a few chunin who knew Y/N enough to recognize her but not enough to fail at being objective. Apparently, the copy-nin wasn't in his right mind to go on a mission right now, especially one that was so personal to him. All his missions for the foreseeable future had been cancelled and another jounin was set to replace him. He could only sit back at home, guilt ridden and feeling useless, unable to help, unable to search. He did this to her. He knew that putting his heart into someone else's hands wasn't right, that it would only lead to her suffering but he couldn't listen to his own experience. He didn’t think it could happen to Y/N. he thought he could protect her.

But fate finds a way, it seems.

He trusted Yamato and the others to find her, but it was nothing like going himself. He wanted nothing more than to see the men who stole her away taught a lesson for what they had done. He wanted to cradle her in his arms and kiss her head, and promise something like this would never happen again. At least, that’s what he wanted to do. He didn’t know how he would react in the moment, despite developing quite good self-control over the years. How could he contain himself when the perpetrators caused his beautiful girl to bleed, and no doubt suffer?

Sakura felt the worst for Kakashi, knowing what she knew. She could imagine him heading to propose to his little girlfriend whom he loved more than anything in the entire world, and see only her blood splattered across the room and endless signs of a brutal struggle. Not to mention no one had a clue why they stole her or what was happening where no one else could see. The medical nin nearly shed a couple tears when Kakashi rushed into the Hokage's office without announcement, proclaiming that his girlfriend was gone, kidnapped from her own store where she worked alone all day.

Tsunade, despite barely knowing the girl, knew it was important; for anyone to be stolen from their village was serious enough. Although she felt for Kakashi, she had to keep him calm while she worked on finding the subject of his affection. She sent out teams immediately, and stressed that Kakashi was to remain in the village until everything was resolved one way or another. She didn't want any accidents because of a reckless, emotionally compromised shinobi faltering.

It only took the teams a single day to find their target.

Shikamaru and Choji were the ones to come back first, and in the larger boy's arms rested the limp, unconscious body of a missing woman. Ever so gently, he had her head tucked away against his chest the entire way home, trying his best not to hurt her anymore. Even if she was unconscious, he wanted to respect the body. From the moments they spoke before, she seemed like the nicest girl. He felt awful. She wasn’t the one putting her life on the line, she was the one that shinobi were supposed to protect. And they failed her.

When they walked through the gates of the village, Kakashi was already rushing up to the gates waiting for their arrival. He caught up to the boys and reached out to take her body from his arms, just to cradle her against him. It was the least that he could do was take her to the infirmary. To feel her faint heart beating against his chest. He was surprised when one of the chunin sadly shook his head.

"Kakashi, she's alive, but trust me, you don't want to see what they did to her," Shikamaru warned, and Choji flinched, just thinking about what her poor face looked like when they found her. Shikamaru knew for a fact that if his girlfriend was ever handed off to him looking so pitiful, he wouldn’t be able to control himself. He didn’t want the same to befall on his sensei. "Just trust me, I cannot let you see it, for your sake. Let Choji bring her to Tsunade."

He felt a burning in his stomach, pain creeping up in his abdomen like he was going to throw up all over the dirt path they stood on, but he did his best to remain calm despite the mix of emotions running through his head. He watched as the Akimichi carried her quickly off to the hospital. Kakashi didn't miss though, the blood stains on his tunic surrounding the area where her head was resting, circling her face. She had bled a lot in her time away, he realized.

God, he felt sick. So fucking nauseous.

"What happened?" he breathed heavily, words slipping through.

"Apparently, the guy had a grudge against your clan for something your father did to his family. Killed a criminal brother or some shit. When he heard wind of your girlfriend he knew he would take his revenge. Didn't want ransom, fame, nothing, just to torment you and torture her. Disgusting bastard."

There was one thing he wanted to know on top of his worry about her condition. He’d been thinking about it for the entire day she was missing. Obsessing even.

"What did you do with the man?" He hoped that justice had been served, and he couldn't imagine the two boys doing anything less.

"A man that would do that to a woman doesn't deserve his life," he muttered, his eyes trailed off to the village, “I made it painful.”

Kakashi nodded to him, and together they stood there in silence for what felt like an eternity.

“Sensei?”

“Hm?”

“I’m sorry.”

____________

When he got to the hospital, Choji was directly quickly to a special unit with particularly fancy machines around the room. Sakura was standing beside her own mentor awaiting the arrival of her friend. The moment she finally saw Y/N's exposed face, she cried. Tears fell from her eyes and she leant over the hospital bed to get a look at all her wounds. She looked alien, and the amount of blood that stained her hairline and cheeks was thick and heavy. Choji had tried to wipe it off, but he just couldn’t get it all.

"Y/N! Oh my God, what did they do to you?" She cried, running her hands shakily over the contusions and the cuts and the bulging areas near her temples. Her body was no better but her face is what hurt Sakura the most. It was hard to believe that all the life had been drained from her body after this one incident.

The light had left her body. Her familiar glow emanating from her soft skin was missing. She looked cold and dead. For the first time, Sakura saw her without her smile, without any bit of optimism. It felt like she was staring at an empty shell of the woman she knew.

"Sakura, get the IV ready. I need to get to work."

And so she did what she does best. Healers at work in their element fixing broken bones, burst capillaries in her head, torn skin. Everything they could. It took hours, and her face still wasn't completely healed in the end, just less swollen. She still had some bumps and bruises but those weren't going to be so bad. They could heal by themselves with a few days of rest and care.

She would be okay, they decided after a while of treatment, and moved her into a normal hospital room, under watch of nurses every so often, no visitors allowed either. Not for the first few days, much to Kakashi's displeasure. He was really getting irritated with the way everyone was keeping him from seeing her. Shouldn’t he be allowed? Essentially, the only family she had left? In reality though, he was scared.

But did he even want to see her again? He loved her, would do anything in the world for her. If only he had the guts to just give up on her and let her meet a normal man from the village, let her marry him and just forget all about their relationship. Then, nothing like this would ever happen again. She would be safer without having connections with him. He was so upset with himself for letting this happen.

He hated himself. It had been a long time since he genuinely thought those words. He hated himself more than anyone else. He let this happen, he was to blame for all this mess. A monster.

He headed back to his apartment that night and stared over at her tiny pile of belongings in the corner, ones she had left over his place as time went on. They still didn't live together so it wouldn't be the worst thing if he broke up with her. She would be hurt, probably cry for a few days, a week, maybe a month. He didn’t know. All he knew was that a little bit of crying was a lot better than getting fatally injured.

Just return her belongings in a box, and never go back to that fucking bookshop where he fell in love with her. He could get his novels directly from Jiraiya if he wanted them.

Tsunade already told him it would be days before he would be allowed to see her again, something about the healing process and that her chakra wasn't enough to fix everything. Based on what Shikamaru had told him, the way he acted- it must have been pretty bad. He couldn't even imagine her face beaten and broken.

All he knew was that in 2 days, he would be allowed to see her again, to possibly talk to her and apologize for what he had caused. It was the least he could do. At this point he couldn't imagine giving her that ring. How could she accept when he was the reason she was abducted and tortured?

He barely slept that night, but it didn't matter. He didn't have anything to do. He was given time off work until everything was resolved. He wondered if it would have been better to have a mission and forget all about the situation for even a couple fleeting moments.

He was just so tired of these feelings. He felt suffocated, and unlike himself. He was finding it hard to be cool, calm, and collected like usual. He just felt terrible. Too terrible to eat, too terrible to sleep, too terrible to do anything but stare up at the ceiling and wonder what could have been.

______

It was time to head to the hospital and see her. Yamato had come to his apartment so they could go and see Y/N. Tsunade gave him the green light first thing that morning when he reported to her. The wood style ninja wanted to see her as well, just to say he was happy she was recovering and even tell her that next time she needed help, if Kakashi wasn't around, to run to his apartment. He would always open his arms to help. So many shinobi of the village, after this incident, would be willing to drop everything and help. Her bookstore would probably always have eyes on it from now on.

Word travelled fast between the shinobi and soon enough almost everyone was giving Kakashi sympathetic looks, patting him on the back and apologizing to him for something they knew nothing about. He just wanted to get to her and say sorry for everything he had done. For not being there sooner, for his father and his clan causing this whole thing. He just needed to see her face. He couldn't get her out of his head.

Sakura was standing outside the room when he arrived. She was biting on her nails, which was oddly uncharacteristic of her. She rarely got nervous enough for habits like that to arise. She was normally so confident. That was the first of the red flags.

"Kakashi-sensei, Yamato. You're here to see Y/N, aren't you?" she asked, her voice quiet and hesitant.

She let him Yamato walk past her into the room but she raised her hand before Kakashi could walk in. She gave him one of the most sorry, pitiful looks he had ever seen, and her lip was quivering just a bit. It was barely noticeable but Kakashi was talented at noting the smallest things.

"Kakashi, I'm really sorry about everything. Lady Tsunade did everything she could. When you go in there, just please don't get upset. It's not as bad as you think. I'll explain everything later, but I want to see how she reacts to seeing you first," she bit out, her words mending together awkwardly.

He figured she was just nervous about her condition or maybe she was still bruised and bandaged up. If she was in a full body cast, he wouldn’t care. As long as he could see her. He couldn’t understand why Sakura was so worried. She would still be beautiful to him. She could never lose that shine that she carried regardless of her external features.

"Hmm. I'm sure it will be fine."

"I'm serious. Don't get upset and alarm her, it's very important you be careful."

"Gotcha."

She watched as he walked past her into the white room, sunlight leaking onto her bedside. The woman was fond of staring out the window since she woke, comforted by the familiarity of the village and the birds that flew by. That was the one thing she needed. Comfort.

Yamato sat at her bedside, and she seemed to be talking to him quietly. Her brows were furrowed deeply and she seemed strained, thoughts running through her brain.

"Kakashi-" the man began to say, desperate to say anything to his friend before the inevitable, but was interrupted.

"Y/N, I was so worried about you," he said, words tumbling out before he could even think. He just had so much to say. He continued, "I need to apologize for what happened. I know I should have been at the shop earlier to help you close, I just got caught up in something. It was my family's fault for your kidnapping. I cannot believe I dropped my guard and let this happen to you, baby-"

She looked at him, but without an ounce of the fondness he was so used to. Instead, his girlfriend just looked confused.

"I… I'm sorry but, Sir, do I know you?"

No.

Not this.

He pleaded in his head that this was not happening. That somehow he had misheard.

"It's me, Kakashi,” he replied softly, almost pleading for her to say something else.

She smiled sympathetically, peering up at him with a little glimmer of that kindness he knew in her eyes. He could tell she was confused, and he began to feel his heart break. "Uh, I'm so sorry but I don't remember you. We're we friends or something?"

"Yeah, I guess you could say something like that,” he muttered, his eyes turned to stare at the white tiles beneath his feet.He couldn’t look at her anymore.

"Yamato, you're friends with Kakashi-san, too?" She asked the brunette at her bedside, sitting in a chair wiping his sweaty palms on the thighs of his pants. He felt himself becoming nervous, especially when he felt Kakashi watching him. Why did she have to ask him that question? Why did she have to address him by his name so casually? He could feel Kakashi begin to bubble up emotions he hadn’t felt from him before.

"Yes. We are all very close friends, Y/N. You were closest with Kakashi actually."

"Then how come I can’t remember any of you?"

"I don't know." He felt fear creeping up his neck, Kakashi overwhelming his senses. The grey haired man just stood there, his eye flickering between the love of his life and his friend who apparently her brain thought was more important than him. Did he not look friendly enough to talk to? Was Yamato more inviting than he was, was that why she stopped talking to him? “I really wish I could help you there,” he mumbled.

She turned back to Kakashi and smiled, but it wasn't the one he knew from her. It was different. He hated it. He didn't even want to look at her anymore.

"I hope I remember you soon, or I'll just have to get to know you again, Kakashi-san," she chirped, reaching out to touch his hand which rested on the edge of her bed. The reaction he had was immediate and almost startling. The second her hand touched his, her warmth pressed to his cold fingers, he yanked his hand away and shoved it into his pocket.

He didn't want her to touch him. He didn't want anything other than to leave. Fuck getting to know him again. That wasn't an option.

"I need to go. I've got a mission I need to prepare for."

"Okay! Goodluck out there," she called to him as he turned on his heel to leave. He grit his teeth, feeling another wave of emotion overtake him. As he stepped outside the door, Sakura was still waiting there for him, her arms crossed over her chest sheepishly.

"Will she ever remember me again?" He asked simply.

"I don't know. She's got retrograde amnesia which can sometimes be permanent depending on the damage done to the brain. We couldn't fix it, no matter how much we tried. She doesn't remember me either. She doesn't remember Gai or Naruto or even Tsunade. She only remembers the village and a few bits and pieces that she can associate with it. Of course she remembers her name and her bookstore, but specific people and memories are essentially gone for now."

"So she's lost to us?"

"She can still get her memories back, but it will take time," she explained. "Sensei, I'm so sorry. None of us wished anything like this on you. I told Tsunade about the ring you were going to give her and the proposal, and we mourned for you. I'm so sorry." She felt so bad, and they did cry for him. They cried for the girl who got to keep her life but lost her soul.

"I have to get back to my apartment and clean up a few things," he dismissed, turning his head away from his student as well. He felt his heart clench in his chest as he walked away. The ring still sat deep in his pants pocket and he wanted nothing more than to throw it in the river.

He wished he was the one who forgot everything. Maybe this pain in his heart would subside. Maybe all the guilt would be washed away once and for all.

Part Two and Three are out.

#kakashi x reader #kakashi hatake #naruto x reader #kakashi oneshot #kakashi fanfic #naruto one shot #kakashi hatake x reader #kakashi imagine #naruto imagine #fluff #angst #the reader is a vert sweet and feminine girl and i hope that doesnt offend anyone

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qitwrites · 3 years

Text

⬅ Previous || 11 || Next ➡

The hoodie incident begins with Kaminari, as most absentminded things do in the dorm.

It’s a cold Saturday morning, and Kaminari can’t find his hoodie anywhere. He briefly looks through his room, the common room, the dishwasher (because it’s happened before and no, he would not like to comment), and the courtyard before deciding he’s probably lost it. Just as he starts to make his way back, with plans to stop by Ashido’s or Kirishima’s room for a spare jacket, the jingle of a machine stops him in his tracks.

It’s the sound of a dryer that’s completed its cycle.

Kaminari doesn’t remember the last time he did his laundry but decides its worth a look anyway. He ventures into the laundry room, and when he sees the familiar shade of yellow, slightly worn out and well-loved but vibrant yellow nonetheless, he picks it up from the basket and beams.

‘How did you get here?’ he muses and puts it on with a satisfied sigh. He doesn’t question why the hoodie is so warm, or why it smells like fresh detergent, or how it’s way too big in pretty much every single way. He just decides that it’s his and leaves for his room.

Satou, for the life of him, cannot find his yellow hoodie.

It was in the laundry basket when he’d left to go grab a glass of water, and it’s gone by the time he gets back. It’s a whole ass mystery honestly.

It’s too cold to be without a hoodie, so Satou decides to borrow one from Kouda for the time being, and figure it out later. Kouda hands him a purple one with chewed up drawstrings and a front pouch pocket that sheds lint, and Satou gives him a huge grin as thanks.

This works out fine for everyone so far, but then Kouda drops some milk on his only other hoodie an hour later, and he can’t ask for the one he gave Satou back because Satou hasn’t found his either. So, Kouda just goes to Shoji and asks if he has any jackets to spare. Shoji, ever the minimalist, has a limited collection of clothes, but there is a sleeveless jacket, dark and warm, on a hanger in his closet that he happily hands over to Kouda.

Shoji is a pretty warm-blooded person, but the day is quite cold. When Tokoyami sees him shiver once, almost imperceptibly, he goes to his closet and pulls out a sleeveless moto jacket, dark as midnight and lined with faux fur. It isn’t really Shoji’s style, but he appreciates the gesture and shrugs it on. It’s warm and smells like nothing, and they go back to watching a YouTube documentary on Tokoyami’s floor, with Dark Shadow curled up nearby.

Dark shadow has the biggest soft spot for Tsuyu, so when Tokoyami is in the common room chatting with Iida and Ojiro later in the day, Dark Shadow sneaks off towards Tsuyu and tells her Tokoyami is feeling a bit cold, and happily takes the offered green jacket. He hides it away from Tokoyami the best he can.

Tsuyu, with her frog like disposition, does not do well with the cold. In fact, it’s one of her biggest vices, so the minute her jacket is gone, she feels herself seize up. Jirou walks by a few minutes later to see Tsuyu curled up on the couch, not moving and dressed too lightly.

‘Tsuyu,’ she shouts, rushing towards the green haired girl while pulling her hoodie off. She gently nudges Tsuyu into the material of her maroon hoodie, and Tsuyu finally exhales, warmth seeping into her extremities. She gives Jirou a happy smile.

‘Thank you,’ she croaks, and Jirou pats her head before plopping down on the couch next to her.

Jirou feels the cold soon enough, even as she snuggles into Tsuyu, but she doesn’t want to go to her room and pull on another jacket. She’s having fun watching a music concert on TV while others talk in the space around them. It’s homely, and she’s scared of breaking the moment by leaving, because they don’t get moments like this very often. Moments where everything is normal, or as close to normal as they can get, and the air is calm and the dust settles in random pools of sunlight streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows lining the hall. So she just sits and waits.

Bakugou shows up 45 minutes into the concert, a black and orange hoodie draped over his arm. He leaves it on the couch next to Jirou as he walks over to the kitchen to refill his bottle, and because Jirou lives to irritate the ever-loving shit out of Bakugou, she simply picks the hoodie up and pulls it on. The material is soft and cool and smells of fabric softener. The sleeves are more worn out than the rest of the hoodie, tiny holes and jagged corners littering the cloth sporadically. Tsuyu gives Jirou a nod of approval, and she returns it with a cocky smirk of her own.

Bakugou takes one look at the back of the couch, one look at the girls, one more look at the back of the couch before he snarls, exploding the bottle in his hands and spraying water everywhere.

‘I’ll KILL you.’

‘Try me,’ Jirou taunts drily, not moving her eyes from the screen. Tsuyu protectively curls into her, and the two slump lower into the couch.

Bakugou takes one step towards them when Kirishima, sunshine Kirishima, Bakugou tamer Kirishima, the lord and savior Kirishima steps into the room, takes one look at Bakugou’s expression, another at Jirou’s frame covered in black and orange before shrugging off his green hoodie and stuffing it over Bakugou’s head, wrestling him into it. The blonde yells and kicks the whole time but lets it happen because Kirishima’s hoodie is warm, slightly oversized, ridiculously comfortable and smells safe.

‘You’re going to train right?’ Kirishima asks with a wide grin. ‘Let me come with ya! I’ll let you beat me up as much as you’d like.’

Bakugou snarls in Jirou’s direction one more time but surprisingly relents, pulling Kirishima away by the collar of his shirt.

‘Clean that shit up,’ he shouts over his shoulder at Jirou, referring to the exploded water bottle in the middle of the room.

‘Ok mom,’ she shouts back, and sniggers at the yells of fuck you and shitty hair let me go I will end her. Messing with Bakugou is the best. She waits for the hour mark to pass on the concert before getting up to find a mop and a dustpan.

Kirishima and Bakugou train for upwards of 2 hours, oscillating between working their quirks till their bodies ache and sparring without their quirks to strengthen their bodies. Their fights look like they’re dancing, so attuned are they to each other’s movements, so familiar with each other’s fighting styles, it’s almost art. Bakugou is faster, more agile, and hits where it hurts, but Kirishima is an immovable, unbreakable wall, taking hit after hit and pushing back, standing strong, giving as good as he gets.

They’re drenched in sweat by the end of it, and Bakugou pulls on the green hoodie as the cold seeps in, giving Kirishima a feral smile.

‘Shouldn’t have let ears steal mine,’ he smirks, before sauntering over to the vending machine to get himself a hot drink. Kirishima just shrugs with a smile, and lays down on the ground, slowly stretching out his hamstrings. He’s always run a bit warm, so the cold isn’t anything unbearable, and he doesn’t mind Bakugou wearing his hoodie. The blonde doesn’t do well in the cold at all, so he’s a lot more manageable when he’s warmed up.

Kirishima twists to the side and something under one of the exercise mats catches his eye. He rolls over to it and picks it up and finds an off-white jacket roughly in his size. He feels like he’s seen it before, so he just shrugs and pulls it on. It’s a nice thick material, and fits just right, maybe erring on the side of tight around his shoulders. Bakugou comes back, cocks his eyebrow at the jacket but doesn’t say anything.

He throws a drink at Kirishima and starts walking back to the dorms. Kirishima smiles at the warm coffee in his hands and runs to catch up, launching into a story about a kitten, a tree, and a stupid idea.

‘Can we drop by the gym? I think I left my jacket there,’ Ojiro says to Tenya as they walk towards the main entrance. Tenya had expressed his desire to go out for a walk, and Ojiro, who’d been in earshot, had decided to tag along, having felt cooped up from sitting inside the dorm building all day. Iida agrees enthusiastically and they begin walking to the gym, passing Kirishima and Bakugou on the way.

It isn’t until Kirishima is out of earshot that Ojiro realizes the guy is wearing his jacket, and when he watches the red head walk into the dorm, he decides he doesn’t really mind. He didn’t want the jacket back cause he’s feeling cold per se, he just wanted to make sure he got it back. He can pick it up from Kirishima later he decides.

‘On second thought, I think I’ll look for it later,’ Ojiro murmurs, and Iida shoots him a confused look. They start moving away from the gym, heading down a well-worn path often traversed by the students and talk about upcoming hero movies and its easy and fun and the sun is bright not harsh. It’s a perfect day for a walk.

Iida and Ojiro get surprisingly into their conversation that they don’t even notice someone is yelling at them and when the earth just sort of vanishes beneath Ojiro’s feet, he yelps out loud.

He looks over to see Iida’s eyes widened in surprise and then there’s black tendrils wrapping around their hips as they’re yanked back. Looking down, Ojiro’s stomach whoops at the wide chasm, as if at the edge of a cliff. He might’ve been super invested in his conversation with Iida, but there’s no way they missed the edge of a cliff, right? Also, was there always a cliff here? What the hell?

‘Guys.’ They look up to see Midoriya standing there, pulling them up with his black whip. He’s like a guardian angel, but he’s still not great with it so when he yanks them up, they land pretty hard on their sides, and Ojiro lands in a mysterious puddle of water, effectively soaked to the bone.

‘Oh, I’m so sorry,’ Midoriya gushes, rushing towards them. ‘Shit, I didn’t mean to put you guys down so hard, are you alright?’

Iida gets up, fortunate enough to not have landed in a puddle of water and straightens his glasses. ‘What is going on? Where did this cliff come from?’

Midoriya shrugs. ‘The land seems to be giving out weirdly. I was out here doing some strength training and the land just crumbled away. It reappears after some time. Also, it’s not a cliff.’ He points at the spot he just pulled them from. ‘Seems like a quirk, some kind of illusion one. The land had given away and the fall is steep, but it’s not a cliff. Just looks like one.’

Ojiro’s head spins with the random assortment of info, but he has more pressing problems to deal with. His soaked shirt is making him shiver, and it feels icky against his skin.

‘Oh, you must be cold,’ Midoriya notices immediately, and before Ojiro can say he’s fine, Midoriya shrugs off his All might hoodie and holds it out for Ojiro. ‘You can pull your shirt off and use this for now! It’ll suck if you get sick.’

Ojiro almost says he’s ok, but he’s getting colder and colder and the hoodie looks so warm and inviting so he decides screw it and peels his shirt off, shuddering when the cold air nips at his skin. He quickly tries to brush off any stray droplets before tugging on the hoodie, and sighs at the warmth he’s enveloped in. Midoriya is like a furnace apparently, and it’s wonderful. He gives the green-haired man a warm smile.

‘Thanks man.’

‘No problem!’ Midoriya says. ‘I think I’ll go back to the dorms and give everyone a heads up about this, maybe tell Aizawa-sensei as well. Will you guys be ok?’

‘We will be fine,’ Iida says, hands rigidly gesticulating in the space between them. ‘Ojiro and I will survey the land around and see if there’s anything we’re missing. We will be careful, so do not worry about us Midoriya.’

Midoriya flashes them an easy smile and with a wave, he makes his way back to the dorm.

Midoriya loves that hoodie, an old All Might piece that’s a tad big for him but warm, warmer than most of his clothes. He’ll ask Ojiro for it later he decides, slowly trekking back to the dorms. The whole floor giving away and light playing tricks business seemed more silly than villainous, but anyway, it made sense to bring a teacher into the loop to deal with it accordingly.

As he walks back to the dorms, the sweat on his body cools and chills him to the bone, and Midoriya misses his All Might sweater with a vengeance. Rubbing his hands along his arms, Midoriya picks up the pace and sighs in relief when the dorms come into view. He’s maybe 150 meters away when a familiar voice calls out to him.

‘Midoriya.’

Todoroki looks comfy and fashionable in a beige coat, a white shirt, and trousers paired with semi-formal shoes. Midoriya puts it together and realizes he’s coming back from one of his hospital visits, and gives him a warm, familial smile.

‘Welcome back, Todoroki. What’s up?’

Todoroki nods at him, smile small and hesitant, but there. It’s so much progress from where they started, like he’s thawing and cracking the ice around his soul.

‘Just got back. What are you up to? And why aren’t you wearing a jacket, it’s a bit cold outside, isn’t it?’

For Todoroki, the jacket is more for show than a necessity, considering his temperature quirk. He’d once told Midoriya that by using clothing to regulate his body temp it allows him to conserve energy, but overall it wasn’t too much of an effort for him to regulate himself on the daily. It’s all so fascinating, and Midoriya has like 4 pages worth of notes on this alone.

‘It’s a long story,’ Midoriya laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. He gestures for the dorm entrance. ‘Should we head in?’

Todoroki nods again, and Midoriya starts walking, trying to find things to talk about. He knows Todoroki’s hospital visits leave him feeling a little lost, a little sad, a little drained. He’s deciding between a new hero analysis he did about Sniper and a puppy rescue video he watched on Instagram when a coat is placed over his shoulder, extra warm on the left. He startles at that, turning to look at Todoroki with wide eyes.

Todoroki acts like he’s done nothing and starts the conversation instead. ‘On the way here, in the train, I saw someone wearing a tomato costume. I am confused, to say the least.’

And they don’t speak of the jacket. Midoriya slips his hands through the sleeves, pulling it around himself tightly and laughs at the imagery in his head. Todoroki’s soul thaws a little bit more and they walk to the dorm, contemplating why anyone would be in costume outside of Halloween.

They part ways when Midoriya says he wants to talk to Aizawa, and Todoroki heads to his room in a lighter mood. It seems to be a pretty common occurrence once he talks to Midoriya. Though, if he’s being honest, that seems to be the case with most people that speak to Midoriya, with the exception of Bakugou.

Todoroki settles into his room for the evening, content with just reading his manga and maybe getting some homework done when he hears a knock on his door. Bookmarking his spot in the manga, Todoroki walks to the door and opens it to find a grinning Sero.

‘Hey man, got a minute?’

Todoroki nods, and gestures for Sero to come inside.

His friendship with Sero is strange. It’s strange because it’s effortless. Sero doesn’t push him to talk or open up, he doesn’t question him, doesn’t stare at him because of his dad, doesn’t ask about his scar or his family, doesn’t really say much at all. They share comfortable silences, and Sero shows him new music, new clothes, and new stories. Todoroki, in turn, shares his mangas, advice about training, and his love for Soba.

Sero walks into his room and sits at the low table, placing a cloth bag on it. When Todoroki sits in front of him, he pushes the bag towards him.

‘For you!’

Todoroki’s eyes shoot up in surprise and he carefully opens the bag. Inside he finds a jacket, made from a cloth that is brick red, the material cotton soft and breathable. It’s cut like a short kimono, and the patterns are simple and subtle. It looks very much like the clothing Sero normally wears, kinda bohemian.

‘Mom sent me a care package, and I think I talked about you a lot on the phone, so she included this for you as well! Apparently she found it at a nice boutique or something.’

Todoroki isn’t used to friends, much less gifts from said friends. Something inside his chest shifts, and he hugs the jacket to his chest.

‘Thank you.’ His voice shakes just the slightest bit.

Sero’s laugh is warm. ‘Try it on man! I need to take a picture and send it to my mom or she’ll think I kept it for myself.’

Todoroki pulls the jacket on slowly, and Sero whistles low.

‘Damn, looks so good! The shoulders fit nicely too. Do you like it?’

Todoroki nods. ‘It’s very comfortable. Please tell your mother I said thank you.’

‘Fo sure, fo sure. Can I get a picture?’

Todoroki is awkward as all hell when it comes to pictures, but he agrees, and Sero takes one mercifully quickly. When they both stand up, Sero walks over to him, throws an arm over his shoulder and pulls him close for another picture. Todoroki throws up a peace sign, something he’s seen the others do just to have something to do with his hands.

‘This one’s real nice!’ Sero says, admiring the photo.

‘Send it to me later.’

Sero reaches out for a fistbump that Todoroki returns. ‘Sounds good yo. I’m gonna get going, I’ll catch you later yeah?’

Todoroki nods and with that, Sero leaves his room. Todoroki belatedly realizes that the jacket smells like Sero- like sandalwood and fresh tea. Perhaps his family smells like that. The thought twists that little something in his chest even more.

Tonight is act-like-bakugou-will-only-cook-for-himself-and-eat-the-“leftovers”-that-can-somehow-feed-the-entire-class night and Sero loves to stand by the kitchen isle and contribute with his stellar sense of humor. Watching Bakugou create mini-explosions and scream bloody murder is just a bonus.

When he gets there, the blonde is already working on dinner, clad in a green hoodie that looks a lot like the one Kirishima wears. Sero takes a seat by the kitchen island and pulls his phone out to scroll through some memes when he suddenly finds himself assaulted by a face-full of glitter.

Gasping, Sero leans back in his chair and falls on his ass, the glitter coming with him. He hears shouting and laughing and someone saying You have, and please excuse my French, pretty shitty taste Monsieur and Sero is so confused.

When he pulls the lump of glitter away, he realizes it’s a jacket, a sequined jacket that’s a bright, bright gold. It’s soft in his hands, and the inner lining feels like actual silk.

‘What-‘

‘It’s Aoyama’s,’ Kirishima says, pulling Sero to his feet. ‘I got here right when Bakugou yelled you fucking walking disco ball little shit and Aoyama decided throwing the jacket was the way to go. Clearly,’ Kirishima gestures at him, ‘he missed.’

Sero laughs and holds up the jacket. He turns it in his hand and takes a closer look at the fit and the material. Considering it’s Aoyama, he shouldn’t be surprised, but the jacket is actually the perfect balance between tacky and really, really nice. Sero looks over at the two blondes yelling at each other, Bakugou brandishing a spatula while Aoyama threatens him with his navel laser and Sero just shrugs and pulls the jacket on.

It fits like a dream, comfortable on his bones, the length perfect even on his tall frame. He adjusts the sleeves and is surprised by how deep the pockets on the inside are. When he looks up again, everyone is staring at him.

Sero clears his throat self-consciously. ‘What?’

‘It looks good on you Monsieur,’ Aoyama says with an actual sparkle in his eye.

‘Damn Hanta, looking like a whole-ass meal,’ Kirishima cheers, and even Bakugou has a quirked brow. He gives him a small nod and then snorts, ‘Still looks like a shiny voltorb.’

‘I’ll take the compliment,’ Sero grins, shaking his torso this way and that. The light catches in these fun and trippy ways, and Kirishima playfully shields his eyes. Aoyama bounds over to him and winks. ‘That’s not all.’

He runs his hands up Sero’s arms, and the gold glitter turns to silver, and Kirishima squeals.

‘That’s so cool!’

Sero runs his own hand up the sides and he feels like a child again, and it’s amazing.

He looks at Kirishima. ‘Want to try drawing a penis on the back?’

Kirishima howls, Bakugou throws a spatula at Sero, and Aoyama looks rightfully horrified. He lets Sero take the jacket anyway.

Iida is not happy when he finds Aoyama in a sleeveless jersey when its cold enough to see your breath, so he lectures him for a good 4 minutes before handing over his track suit jacket. Aoyama wears it with a grumble of All my twinkling has died a painful death.

Uraraka drapes her shrug over a napping Iida sprawled across the couch after a long day, belly full of Bakugou’s amazing food. She pulls his glasses off and keeps it on the table, tucks the sleeves against Iida’s body and hopes the make-shift blanket works.

Mina thinks Uraraka’s outfit is missing something and throws a denim jacket on her from her own closet, a cute cropped piece with some artfully placed rips. Uraraka beams at it, digging her hands deep into the front pockets and posing for a picture.

Momo watches this happen and shyly offers her own chunky sweater to Mina, asking her to make an outfit around it. Mina smashes the challenge, and the end result is so good that Momo insists she keep the jacket, claiming she can honestly just make her own, even though they both know she won’t, because, you know, Momo is the most conscientious person ever that actually cares about the economy.

When the night winds down and everyone finds themselves sprawled over the couches and each other, Hagakure follows Uraraka’s example and pulls her bomber jacket off before draping it over Momo and herself, a make-shift blanket. Momo huffs out an amused laugh and pulls the invisible girl closer. The night is cold, but the common space is just warm embers and crackling fires and the smell of smores.

And finally, just before bed, Shinsou decides to tackle the mountain of clothes on his chair. He hangs the jackets, folds the pants and shirts, and rolls up the socks. At the very bottom of the pile is a well-loved, slightly faded but still ridiculously bright yellow hoodie that belongs to the one and only. Shinsou huffs in amusement, and proceeds to pull it on before climbing into bed.

The hoodie incident begins with Kaminari, as most absentminded things do in the dorm.

It doesn’t really end though.

87 notes · View notes

floatingpetals · 4 years

Text

Call of the Mountains || Ch. 9

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes (Werewolf AU!)

Warnings: nothin really

Word Count: 1500+

Summary: (Werewolf-AU!Stucky x f!reader) Life had begun to overwhelm her. Work was insane and her life was a mess. There was a tug in her soul that called her to take this trip, deep into the forest away, where there was the peace and stillness of nature. She didn’t know why, but she knew she needed to listen. It was meant to be a relaxing trip, but one misstep on some moss sent her tumbling into the rapids of the flooded river. She thought she was gone and the earth decided it was time to reclaim her. She didn’t expect was to be pulled from the river nor the creature that saved her. Her entire world is turned upside down and all it took was an accidental step to the left. (18+ Only Story)

A/N: Hey all! So it’s been a while huh? I can’t make any promises that this will be frequent but I wrote a little bit and wanted to post it! I hope you all enjoy and thank you for being so patient with me! I’m hoping I can get back to the swing of things. I also didn’t really edit so I’m sorry if there’s errors 😅 Enjoyyy!!

Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Series Masterlist

Y/N woke to the sound of power turning back on in the house. It was jarring at first, the sound of the air conditioner turning on and several loud beeps sounded around the house. She could hear someone in the hall muttering an oath over a practically loud incessant beeping before it was finally silenced. Blearily she glanced out the window, the sun had just peaked over the mountains casting bright rays through the large open window.

Letting out a sigh, she figured it was best to get out of bed. No point in hiding in the room, especially not with how her stomach felt like it was trying to eat itself. Y/N glanced at her dirty clothes and wondered if they had a washing machine she could use now that the power was back on. Snagging them in her uninjured hand, she went to the bathroom to brush her teeth and do her business before creeping into the living room.

The sound of the television filtered down the hall as she inched around the corner, she spotted Bucky standing in front of the television with his arms crossed and back tense. It took her a quick glance at the headline to understand his frustration. The rain from last night created floods and knocked down trees on most major roads in the area, specifically around the reserve. Which meant she was stuck.

“Oh well that’s a great thing to wake up and see,” She mumbled and walked up beside him. She bit her lip to stifle a giggle when she saw him flinch and his head swivel around towards her.

Bucky nearly flew out of his skin when she materialized beside him. He had to take a deep breath, to calm the start to his heart as well as the frustration in himself how quickly he forgot she was capable of sneaking upon him. That was definitely not a common occurrence for him. He should have scented her at the very least. Maybe it because she’s wearing my clothes, he tried to reason.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” Her giggle finally won. Bucky grumbled, but couldn’t stop the grin growing on his face. “So we’re blocked in huh?”

“Looks like it.” He nodded. “Steve’s gone out to see if we can still get out to the pa-cabins. My phone hasn’t blown up yet, so either it means we’re in the clear or he’s in the middle of cleaning up the roads and hasn’t had a chance to call and bitch yet.”

“Let’s hope it’s not too bad if there are any downed trees.” She mumbled and watched the forecast. She winced. Now it was supposed to rain every day for the next week. Just great. “I guess I shouldn’t have tried my luck. First, the questionable rain forecast, then I fall in a river, fracture my wrist, and now I’m literally flooded in.”

“At least you’re not stuck in your tent!” Bucky grinned trying to remain optimistic. “Speaking of which, Natasha said she’d call the rangers station for you and see what she could have them do about your stuff. Better her let them know you’re safe than them waste manpower trying to find you.”

“Oh,” Y/N blinked. She hadn’t thought of that. “That’s sweet of her.”

“If you have anything you can think you’d need, let me know and I can see if Natasha can’t get them for you.” He didn’t offer how she could get them or how she knew which campsite was hers, but Y/N also didn’t think to ask. Probably got the info from the ranger station, Y/N reasoned.

“I guess my phone, so I can tell my parents I’m alright and let my job know I might not make it back when I agreed to be back.” She said. “And maybe some of my clothes. Speaking of which, do you have a washer I could borrow?”

Bucky blinked and finally looked down at the bundle of clothes in her hand.

“Oh! Yeah of course,” He motioned her to follow through the kitchen and to what looked like a mudroom converted to a laundry room. “If you ever need to use it, feel free. Detergent is in the box and the softener is that white container. While you do that, do you want anything to eat? I should have asked you that first.”

“Oh,” she looked up from the brand-new fancy washing machine and over to where Bucky hovered in the doorway. “I’m okay with whatever you have available. Can I make a special request for some coffee with cream and sugar?”

“You sure can.” Bucky beamed with a wink, leaving her to it in the room with a noticeable bounce in his step. She could hear him moving around in the kitchen, finding it incredibly adorable how enthusiastic he appeared to be cooking her something. She shook her head with a giggle and turned back to the machine.

After a few minutes of fumbling with the fancy machine that had way too many settings, Y/N went back to the kitchen where Bucky was plating her food. He flashed a smile over his shoulder and motioned for her to sit at the table. A steaming cup of fresh coffee sat at the table, fork, and knife waiting as well.

“Go ahead and take a seat. I didn’t know how much sugar you wanted, so it’s in the bowl next to the salt and pepper.”

“Thank you.” Y/N hummed eagerly and sank into the seat. She had just finished putting in her sugar and took a sip when Bucky set the plate of food in front of her. Piled high with eggs, bacon, and hash browns, the smell hit her nose, and instantly her mouth started to water. Completely uncaring what he thought about her table manners, she dug in.

Amused, Bucky slid into the seat across from her with his own plate and cup of coffee. He watched her for a moment, a grin on his face before he too dug in. Mentally, he was going over the list of things that needed to be done. He had a pack to keep safe, first and foremost. While Steve might be handling the cleanup, Bucky was usually in charge of making sure everyone was accounted for and they had everything they’d needed.

True they were an efficient pack that didn’t need help from the outside, but it didn’t mean they were completely prepared for natural disasters. Cabins would need to be inspected, generators most likely needed to be fixed, food needed to be replaced, the roads and paths they usually took would need to be checked so there wasn’t something that could cause problems down the line. There was also the fact he had yet to hear from Wanda or Pietro.

The twins were supposed to be patrolling last night and would usually check-in before the sun rose when they returned. Neither had contacted Bucky or Steve, and Bucky was growing concerned. They were quite capable of taking care of themselves, but this was not normal for the two.

He was so busy worrying and planning he didn’t notice Y/N had stood to move beside him until her soft scent drifted to his nose. He blinked and tilted his head back, startled for the second time that morning. He had to swallow his tongue to keep the purr his beast made down. Oblivious to the effect she had on him, Y/N smiled softly and motioned to his empty plate.

“You finished?”

Bucky’s cleared his throat and nodded dumbly. Y/N took their plates and went to the sink. He watched her go to the stove to grab the skillet and heading back to the sink before turning the tap on. The sound of water and clinking plates snapped Bucky out of his stupor.

“Oh, you don’t have to clean those!” He jumped up and began to cross the kitchen to her side. She shot him a look that stopped him short and reached for the sponge.

“You made me breakfast, the least I can do is while the plates down before putting them in your dishwasher.” She replied smoothly. Bucky opened his mouth to argue but she cut him off again. “Nope, it’s how we do it my house. You cook, I clean.”

Bucky chuckled and shrugged his shoulders, more than aware he lost this argument. He didn’t get a chance to argue anyways, he could hear his phone going off in the living room where he left it.

“Alright, alright. You win. Just keep your cast dry.” He shot over his shoulder.

“Aye aye, captain!” Y/N shouted back, giggling at the amused snort that she received in answer.

Smiling from ear to ear, Bucky answered the call from Natasha in a rather happy mood. But the tone that greeted him cut his happiness off short.

“Barnes, you need to get down here. Steve’s pissed. Bring Y/N too. She needs to see this.”

The phone clicked before he could ask what the hell was going on, not at all a normal Natasha thing to do. A sinking feeling of dread settled in the pit of his stomach. He turned slowly to look over his shoulder where Y/N stood at the sink, loading his dishwasher humming a happy tune, and wondered what the hell happened last night they didn’t know about.

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sirthisisa-wendys · 3 years

Text

The Aristocracy (Part 1): Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: your whole trajectory is upended in one afternoon. Will you make it work? or will you let it consume you?

wc: 1k

tw: none (just plot)

masterlist

White clouds escape from your mouth in the freezing winter air, and the horse beneath you snorts heavily, pawing at the cobblestone bridge leading to your home. You’re gripping the leather reins in your hands tightly, your leather gloves making sounds as you roll the material between your fingers.

Something’s off.

“Your Highness?” your stable attendant whispers next to you, his normally chipper voice laced with concern.

“There were too many horses in the common stables when we passed by. How long have we been out for a ride?” you inquire, and your attendant looks up to the sky, shielding his green eyes before replying,

“Three hours, your Highness.” Three hours. You dismount from your horse and allow the man to take it while you walk up the path. Someone’s here, you rationalize, removing your gloves as one of the many side doors to the palace swings open.

“Your Highness!” The sound of your lady-in-waiting, Hinata, bounding into the hallway is enough to set you at ease as she takes the cloak from your shoulders and shakes off the snow. “How was the ride?”

“Uneventful,” you murmur, handing her the gloves. “There were a number of horses in the common stables. Do we have a visitor?” you question, looking the woman in the eyes. Hinata’s eyes dart to the left for a brief second, when suddenly, an eruption of laughter catches your attention.

Without hesitation, you follow the sound to the dining hall, where your father is mid-tale about some hunting accident with your mother and…

“Oh! Y/n, I didn’t know you’d returned from riding so soon,” your mother mentions, placing her fork down on her plate. “We would have waited a little longer so you could eat with us.” The third guest at the table rises carefully, black eyes focused on your face as he bows at the waist.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Your Highness.” You examine him a bit longer, taking in his long black hair and expensive blue and gold clothing. You don’t know who this is, but he looks like royalty. During your examination, he clears his throat, and then finally says, “My name is Prince Suguru, and I’m...” Suguru... Geto? The prince from the Geto empire is here? In your territory?

His words are completely lost on you as you turn towards your mother and father in shock. “How could you let the son of your enemies into our home?” Your mother presses her lips together, and your father closes his eyes, sighing as he shakes his head. “Have we not lost thousands of troops to the war we’ve been fighting against them? And now, you’re letting this man and his filthy hands into our home?”

“Watch your tongue, y/n,” your father warns, standing from his position at the head of the table. “You speak of the past. We are ending the war, and building a new future.”

“Where are King and Queen Geto, then?” you inquire, folding your hands together. “Why are they not here to sign the treaty?”

“Because the treaty will not be on paper,” Prince Suguru announces.

“I wasn’t speaking to you,” you retort, your lips curling up in disgust.

“The treaty will be through marriage,” your mother answers, not looking at you. “Y/n, you and Prince Suguru will be married within a fortnight to signal a new peace between our empires.” The color drains from your face, and you feel lightheaded, unsure if you imagined the words or if you're really destined to be married to that… thing. You grip the table in front of you, mouth opening to speak, but nothing coming out.

“Is… is this a joke?” you ask when you reclaim your voice, and your father shakes his head.

“It’s what’s best for our empire. I know you’ll understand that.”

_____________________________________________________________

The library is where you find your escape. You’re curled up on a window ledge that’s large enough for you and your stack of books, staring out at the white landscape in defeat.

Marriage… to a sworn enemy, no less? It doesn’t seem real.

When the door to the library opens, you turn your head and lift your eyes over the banister to the first floor, where you see a black-haired head swiveling about.

“Go away,” you call out, and the eyes of Suguru Geto flick up to your position on the window ledge.

“They told me I could find you here,” he announces, moving to climb up the stairs. “It’s quiet. I like this room.”

“I said go away,” you repeat, looking away from him to the snow-capped trees outside.

“I came to speak to you about our circumstances.” When he sits next to you, you recoil, clutching your knees closer. “I know this is a surprise to you, as it is to me. I want to reassure you that no action - besides this marriage - will be taken without your permission. I’m not going to force you to love me, nor will I pressure you to do… other marital duties. This is a marriage of convenience, and if you wish to take another lover during this time, then I will oblige… as long as you keep it discreet.” You scowl at him and he returns your look with a blank stare, hands laced together in his lap.

“You’re saying that so you can have your own lovers, aren’t you?”

“No,” he begins, sighing heavily. “I have no desire to be saddled with many lovers at this point in my life. I have too much else to worry about.” You close your eyes, exhaling deeply, then wave him away.

“I have to think about this.”

“What is there to think about?” he laughs sadly. “We’re stuck in this. My family and your family have already written this into being. All we have to do is exist as pawns for their benefit.” Suguru stands, brushing his hair out of his face. “But I will let you think for a little while. Let me know if you need me.”

And with that, the Geto prince walks away and back down the stairs, leaving you in silence as you watch your life turn upside-down in one afternoon.

_____________________________________________________________

TAGLIST: @just4readingfics @ambiguous-something @vabybizzle @brownskinnedgirll @jotazinha @leanne-tamashi @amaris9 @missbonekitty @fyotituti

#geto x reader #geto suguru #jujutsu kaisen getou #jjk geto #getou x reader #getou suguru #jujutsu kaisen

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comehomeducklings · 3 years

Text

Past [Part 2] (Obsession)

A/N: Some chapters will be named with either “Past,” “Present,” or “Future,” then their numbered part coming right after it. This is to confuse you less when flashbacks or anything happens. As you have probably noticed, it says “Past” for Part 2. This is going back near when Tom and her just met. Thank you for reading! <3

Tom Riddle's Moodboard

Main Character's Moodboard

~////////////////𓆙////////////////~

1940 - 3rd year

“Potions is not that bad, I swear. You just have to be good at measuring.”

At the table, my friends and I are discussing our classes this year. Potions being one of my favorite topics. Devyn absolutely loathes that certain class. We have to drag her there to make sure she doesn’t skip. Poor girl tries her best to not mess up but the cauldron always ends up blowing up. I even watched her do every step once, never missing a beat. The potion still ended up failing, even though she did everything correctly. She gave up after a while, who wouldn’t. I help her do extra assignments for extra credit to keep her grade up. She also studies with me to make sure she can memorize everything and pass her tests. Amelia is pretty good at the class, she’s luckily paired with Devyn most of the time. Carrying the potion to success, with a little bit of my secret help. It’s not cheating, it’s using your resources.

I’m resources.

“Potions is not that bad,” Devyn mocks me. “If it weren’t for you two I would have gone insane in that stupid class.”

Amelia just laughs at her while eating her hash browns on the plate. She reaches her hand out to take some more eggs.

“You were able to do it before. Not the way you were supposed to, but it worked,” Amelia says.

“Exactly, just start doing it your way at this point. I don’t think Slughorn will care how it’s done, just how it comes out.”

Devyn nods her head and points at me with a fork. Her mouth full of food so she settles for that response. My plate doesn’t have much other than some bacon and fruit. I’m not usually a breakfast eater. I get my appetite at lunch and dinner time. It’s just too early for a bunch of food smells, the smells make me kind of nauseous. I’ll eat though, enough to hold me off till lunch.

The chatter in the lunchroom rises by the minute. Everyone refilling themselves before their busy day. All energy levels rising while everyone wakes up from their groggy morning mood. While my friends finish eating we continue to talk about our classes and share the schedules for this year. Most classes we had were the same except for our electives. I tried taking as many electives as possible. My family back home never really did magic. I actually came a year and a half late since my family wanted me to have a normal school experience. I learned to do everything without the use of magic, the only thing my mom taught me was the floo network, creatures, and plants. I would often accompany her to Diagon Alley when she shops. I got an Owl for my 10th birthday. A cat would have been amazing if I wasn’t allergic to it. My owl is a brown and white-furred barn owl. Don’t ask me why I named it Bartholomew. I was ten okay, give me a break. Speaking of the floo network, my mom had to chase me through it quite often because I kept teleporting everywhere. I once ran into the Ministry of Magic’s building and got lost. They had to take me home to my parents. Their faces told me everything I needed to know about the punishment waiting for me.

Halfway through the second year is when I came to Hogwarts, a second letter coming that year asking my parents to let me learn more there. So when they finally let me attend, everything was pretty new to me. My mother was the magic one in the family. Her grandmother, my great-grandmother, before her had the magic gene. Going to school was the same experience as going from a muggle-borns perspective. The difference is, I knew more about its existence. I would look at yearbooks my mom had from when she went here. She earned a lot of titles, all the achievements being recorded down. I always wondered why she never wanted me to come here. Did something happen to me, to her? I’m guessing she just wanted a normal life with dad. He has always supported her through everything. A love, a bond like that is hard to come by. He would also learn about magic right next to me. At least, the stuff my mom allowed to let us know.

That’s why I want to learn as much as I can, of what’s available. Why learn math in the muggle world when I could be learning divination. Spells of all types, potions for everything of inconvenience. My chores could be completed with just a flick of my wand. I’ve lately been learning wandless magic, on my own. Albus has helped by providing me with material to study that type of magic. The only thing I’ve managed so far is a spark coming from the tips of my fingertips. Sparking hope that I could actually, maybe, achieve that level. Now I won't get my hopes up, but that can lead me to a certain advantage in dueling. That being one of my weakest skills. Always panicking, saying any spells that pop up in my mind, and making random movements coming from my wand. Often confusing who I’m up against, although they recover from that confusion fairly quickly.

Riddle, met him once. One too many if you would ask me. I dissuade ever wanting to speak to him. Arrogance and pride flow through his tongue like second nature. I do take pride in succeeding above him in 3 classes. He is 2 classes above me but, that’s not the point. I do admit, he’s attractive. Only a little though, how else would he charm his way through the professors and students.

“Alright, I’m ready to go. You guys done?”

“Yeah,” I say. Devyn and I start leaving our seats and heading towards the huge doors.

Amelia hurried from her seat, a few steps behind since she took some fruit with her to eat on the way. More and more students also started making their way towards the first period. Not wanting to be blamed for the loss of house points. This system causes so many fights, everyone’s competitive side getting the best of their common sense. I would be lying if I said it didn’t get the best of me before. Amelia being her usual bubbly self skips backward while chatting with us. Before we could warn her to stop, she pushes someone ahead of her. Both falling down, hitting the floor. She spins her head extremely quickly, her hair sticking in her mouth from the force of the wind.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention,” she explains. Quickly trying to digest her situation. I make my way towards her and pull her up. I fix her robe and dust off any dirt on the cloth from the floor.

“Clearly idiot, can you not use those bug eyes of yours to see?”

Devyn and I make eye contact. We understand that there are witnesses here, and one of them is bound to snitch on us if we fight. A huge scene would probably make Amelia feel even more embarrassed as well. Instead, I guided Amelia by her back. We continue on to class while I comfort her. Devyn is staying back to “talk” to the guy. Lestrange is in for it now, any poor soul would be when in the fiery path of her anger.

Devyn’s loud yells could still be slightly heard when entering the potions classroom. First class of the year, and day. On Slughorn’s table, I can see a vial with the wideye potion contained inside. I set Devyn’s textbook on her station, turning to the page that contains information on the potion. Hoping to save her confusion and time.

“Welcome, welcome! Nice to see some old faces, and new ones,” he says with the biggest grin on his face. “Today we’ll be learning about the Wideye potion. Can anyone tell me what this potion does?”

I quickly raise my hand, rather eager. I did some reading about a lot of potions during the summer. Trying to get a headstart on my studies. This potion being one of them. Only 3 students raised their hand, one of them being me. The other, well, Riddle.

“Yes, go ahead and answer,” the professor looks my way.

I smile, “The wideye potion prevents the person consuming the liquid the ability to fall asleep. Which is often used in the medical field to wake someone from a sleep caused by a blunt force or drug.”

“Precisely! 10 points.”

I look back rather smugly at Riddle, rather happy I got chosen instead of him. I know, he could have easily answered that too. I’ll let myself bask in the small achievement for now. 30 minutes of class is just spent writing down notes, preparing us for the potion we will make. Note-taking is my favorite, especially the little doodles I get to make. We use a feather instead of the regular pen. I found it rather amusing and liked the certain feeling of writing with it. The dipping noise that the point of the feather makes when hitting the liquid ink is a very profound sound. No real writer’s bump forming on my fingers.

“That’s enough writing, I need you all to prepare your cauldron, gather the materials you need, and start your potion. If done correctly, tomorrow when we add the finishing touches and check on it the potion should be a blue/green color,” Slughorn comments. “You have 10 minutes to study your notes, then the rest of the class to make your potion. No looking back at your notes after those ten minutes.”

After scanning my notes, I stand up and walk towards the ingredients on the shelves. If I remember correctly my potion requires snake fangs, standard ingredient, and wolfsbane. I gather all that in my hand and set it down near my cauldron. Before I start, I take a moment. I’m missing something, I’m sure there was another ingredient.

Wolfsbane, check.

Snake fangs, six of them.

I have the measures of Standard ingredient.

There’s one more, I try to look around the room. Then I remember that we get an automatic failing grade if caught cheating. There’s no way I’ll let my grade drop like that. Over something so small and inconvenient too. Making my way to the shelves, I scan over the ingredients over and over again. Trying to see if any of the names pop out to me.

No.

Definitely not.

That’s an ingredient?

I don’t even want to know how that one was obtained.

This one, of course it’s this one. I even remember putting a star next to the name in my notebook. Dried Billwig stings, I believe six of them were needed. All that time wasted. Hurrying to my seat I get to work. The time goes by quickly, all that could be heard was the sizzling and whooshing of our potions. I almost knocked down my vials a couple of times. Someone actually did, their time spent on cleaning the glass off the floor. After heating the first three ingredients, I crush them together in the mortar. Then stir clockwise from what I recall, three times specifically. Finally, I wave my wand over then leave it to brew.

Just in time from the looks of it. I glance at Devyn to see how it went for her, and she looks pretty proud of herself. I take that as a blessing that it didn’t blow up this time of round. I’m guessing she took our advice and did it her own way.

A student raises his hand, “May we leave?”

“Oh yes yes, go ahead. No assignments for the first day, only the potion you made in class.”

Before I leave the classroom I examine Riddle’s station. He already left the room. His potion looks similar to how mine turned out, his workspace thoroughly cleaned. Everything used properly placed back to where it should be. Perfectly spotless, not a single speck of dust in sight. All done without magic too, surprising for someone born into the wizarding world. When I mentioned that I met him once, it wasn’t much of anything. The only way I know how he really acts is through other people. Much admire his intelligence and strong will. Others are jealous of the potential he holds for the future.

Girls are already trying to slip love potions into his drinks. I would feel bad if he wasn’t so rude to them. Only just before touching the disrespectful line. He almost drank one of their attempts before. Wouldn’t want to imagine how that turned out. Tom riddle, in love. That man probably doesn’t know the feeling of happiness, let alone love. I feel bad for his future girlfriend, she’s going to have to deal with a handful of baggage.

~////////////////𓆙////////////////~

“How much do you want to bet Nott will demolish him?” A Gryffindor girl to my left whispers.

Nott, part of Riddle’s group from what I’ve seen. They all eat lunch together and talk to one another so it’s a reasonable guess. Very talented duellist, one of the bests here.

“I hate to admit it, but he’ll definitely win this. I’ll still have hope for the other guy though,” I whisper back trying not to sound mean.

Nott and the other Slytherin boy are up right now. It’s a courtesy for the audience to stay quiet until someone casts the first attack or defense. From then on all you will hear is shouting of encouragement and the opposite. Nott’s eyes are focused, zoning in on the opponent before him. His wand is steady, mouth slightly parted to breathe through better. Whole-body alert and tense waiting for something. From what I'm getting, I believe he’s waiting for the Slytherin boy to go first. Nott casts spells quickly and thinks them through decently. Sometimes you're not able to create a counter-spell quick enough to defend yourself against him.

Riddle’s group and himself are near the corner of the platform. All seemingly analyzing every breath he inhales and exhales. I finally hear the whoosh of a wand and a whiz of light fly past the platform. The glow from the spell lighting our faces for a millisecond. Nott quickly counters that spell and moves to cast his own. Magic flies across the platform, all of our eyes going back and forth like a ping-pong match. The Slytherin boy starts breaking a sweat. He’s only been able to get a couple of offensive spells in there, most of his plays spent throwing off Nott’s. If he doesn’t turn the battle soon, the outcome will become very clear.

It is a little less exciting since we only know a handful of spells. So whatever you know from your own studies you use in these duels. When we move up the years the class will become more serious and dangerous. Right now it’s just to teach us how to counter and cast quickly. The proper etiquette and movement. You use spells that you know, they aren’t supposed to harm someone. Either stun them, make them fly back, or disarm. Most of those spells require a little of a higher level, most of us not even knowing of its existence yet. So what’s mostly cast between competitors is a basic spell to exert force. That force should be aimed for the legs, or the wand to disarm that way. The way someone can win here is to make their knees or hands touch the floor, or disarm their wand. As I mentioned, it will get more intense as time goes by. We're only just starting 3rd year right now, a lot more charms will be learned later on.

I shake my head to get rid of any lingering thoughts. My attention goes right back to the duel taking place in front of me. Nott quickly aims a spell at the knees and manages to bring the other boy to his knees.

“Mr. Nott wins this duel! Please step off the platform, we will evaluate your performance.”

During the practice duels today, you watch it, think of ways to help the person improve, and point out things they might have done wrong. At the end, the professor picks people raising their hands to allow them to give their feedback. Participating is part of the grade you get in here. I personally prefer giving feedback then dueling. I’m not the best at casting, I do give out good defense spells though. That should mean something, I hope.

“Let’s start with Nott, does anyone have feedback for him?”

A couple of people spread apart raised their hands. One by one they all ask questions and give feedback. They mention his feet and posture when he stands. Arms fully stretched out where it would have been more flexible to bend it slightly. When he casts he shouldn’t be walking backward. They shortly switch to the other boy’s questions and feedback. The way he never gave himself the opening to cast an offensive spell often. He would move around his area a lot. Almost slipping off the stage during one of those movements. Tom and his group privately discussed with one another. They’re probably giving Nott their own feedback and suggestions privately.

“Now, Riddle I want you to come up and…,” he scans the room for another student. After some time he points his finger at me. “You.”

I could have had a smooth sailing class. I was so close to not having to go up there. My hands start sweating a bit, my anxiety jumbling my thoughts together. Riddle’s already up there and soon to be on his side of the platform. Taking his wand out and wandering his fingers over the design. I gulp, a big toad stuck in my throat. I wipe my hands on my robe and start up the stairs. Riddle seems as unbothered as ever. We bow, turn, then walk ten paces back. During this time I try predicting who will cast first. I don’t know him very well, I’ve also never seen him duel.

I take my dueling stance and wait for the signal to start. Hoping, praying, that I don’t embarrass myself. Slipping up is not allowed, not when going against him.

~////////////////𓆙////////////////~

Taglist:

@empath-bunny

#tom riddle x oc #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle x reader #lord voldemort #death eaters #voldemort #horcrux #hogwarts #harry potter #wizard #post wizarding war #enemies to allies #enemies to lovers #angst #oc #poc #Oc is any race #moldy voldy

54 notes · View notes

flautistsandpeonies · 3 years

Text

Prominence Part 1

Read My Prompt [Here]

Word Length: 2,710

Tags: Not for JC Fans, JC’s Canon Characteristics, Not for Madam Yu Fans, Madam Yu Canon Characteristics, Not Jiang Friendly, No Sunshot Campaign, Original Character, Vampires

Almost everyone had heard of Wei WuXian. Picked up from the streets of Yiling at the age of nine and brought to YunmengJiang to be trained amongst its disciples, the orphan was a reoccurring topic through the many sects, taverns, brothels, and businesses of china. For thirteen years, the young cultivator sparked many a sordid story and salacious talks of infidelity, bastard children, bloodlines, and even sword naming of all things.

Some thought positively of the young cultivator, wondering of his promise and imaging what he might accomplish with his cultivation. Others saw the prodigy as a blight on the normal way of life, an arrogant servant who didn’t understand his station. Both acknowledged his strength with a sword, his intelligence, and wit.

All in all, it was common to talk about the young master, whether it was scorn or adoration, it was almost impossible to not pass by one person and not hear the name “Wei WuXian” on their lips.

Especially now...

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The YunmengJiang Sect was hosting a discussion conference next month.

‘Not surprising, ‘Lan Qiren thought as he set the missive down, ‘Considering the situation’

The letter was short and concise, the way he preferred them. Jiang Fengmian meant to clear up some “misconceptions and rumors” about sudden events and offer a chance to the young disciples of the sects.

A two week discussion conference was to be held, the first dedicated to multiple lectures and the second a week long night-hunting competition.

Sitting to his right, Lan XiChen picked up the letter with inquisitive eyes and stared to peruse. After few minutes, he smiled and set the paper back down on the table with a hum.

“Young Master Wei has certainly come a long way, “XiChen smiled, “Will we attend?”

“There is no reason not to, “Lan Qiren stroked his beard, “It is an opportunity to learn something new, so we shouldn’t squander this opportunity...no matter how unseemly the events surrounding it are.”

While gossip was forbidden in the Cloud Recesses, it certainly was not in Caiyi Town. The many shop and tavern goers always had something new to talk about almost everyday, spreading rumors from the farthest brothels in Runan to the classiest restaurant in Laoling. Due to the town’s proximity to the Lan Sect, it’s disciples often picked up on the gossip whether they wanted to or not.

Lan XiChen gave a slight wince, knowing what his uncle was referring to due to his recent trip to the Unclean Realm, “I...have heard about Young Master Jiang’s injury.”

For the past couple of weeks, the YunmengJiang Sect was the talk of the Cultivation and Civilian worlds. It started with a simple event that exploded into a frenzy of rumors and tales.

Wei WuXian, Head Disciple to YunmengJiang, had recently published several cultivation manuals and even a few night-hunting tools. Now, this, while completely normal, did raise a few brows as no one expected someone so young to suddenly put multiple books out on cultivation. However, no one who truly cared about learning batted an eye and went at the books with a critical eye.

To name a few, there was:

Talismans for the Everyday Life The Hunter: Archery and Tracking Talismans Musical Cultivation: The Difference between the Xiao and Dizi The Stygian Lure Flag and Demon Wind Compass: Uses and Dangers

Due to the books being sold by a well-known and influential merchant, the books were being sold in small shops throughout the cultivation world in the matter of days. The books contained many research notes from various night-hunts, creation processes, and even notes on the failures and set backs found during the research phase; it would be an understatement to say they were a huge success and cultivators sought out these items as soon as they got wind of them.

The problems started soon after.

Everyone who wasn’t living under a rock knew how troublesome the marriage between the Jiang Sect Leader and his madam was. An arranged marriage that left neither participant with any benefits, the two were not a good fit. Even worse, the amount of gossip surrounding the home life of the Jiangs left many secretly wondering how they were still married, no matter how unpractical a divorce would be.

The Violet Spider’s reaction to the books and tools was not pleasant. Having been out on a night-hunt with her son at the time of their publication, she apparently found out by word of mouth. Customers at a restaurant in Ouyang having described the woman shouting in rage, destroying the table of a couple of rogue cultivators, and then rushing out with her heir and retinue.

As the Madam stormed her home, the doors to the sect were left wide open and the close distance to the civilians gave everyone a view of Yu ZiYuan shouting down her husband. Jiang Fengmian’s supposed infidelity and favoring of a bastard child were aired out once again for all in Lotus Pier to hear.

Even worse was the reaction of the heir, Jiang WanYin. Having been given Zidian by the Violent Spider for their night-hunt, the young heir took the whip to his da-shixiong, and the young author ended up brandishing his sword to defend himself. The end result of the fight left Jiang WanYin with a broken arm, and rumors spread that the Madam was now seeking to throw Wei WuXian from the sect.

Truly unpleasant.

Lan Qiren sighed, “Regardless, the Jiang Sect is offering for us to learn directly from Wei WuXian, and the competition their holding would be great experience for the junior disciples.”

Lan XiChen nodded in agreement, “Then I’ll look at our list of disciples and choose whom to take with us.”

Standing, Lan XiChen fixed his robes and then bowed to his uncle, “I have other duties to attend to, but I’ll get to the list as soon as possible. I’ll ask WangJi if he will attend as well. Do you need anything before I go, uncle?”

Shaking his head, Lan Qiren replied, “All is well. I will see you and WangJi later tonight.”

Watching his nephew leave, the elder Lan flicked his beard before standing and fixing his robes. Walking over to his bookshelf, he retrieved one of the newest additions to his personal library.

“Dao: Golden Cores and the many Paths of Cultivation by Wei WuXian”

Having acquired the book from his youngest nephew, Lan Qiren would never admit to having lost sleep trying to finish the book. Giving a thoughtful look at the materials, Lan Qiren couldn’t help but give a huff of amusement.

‘It seems that boy has learned some discipline after all.’

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The air around Lotus Pier was tense.

Purple clad disciples shuffled into each other, eyes downcast as they bowed at the retinue to Nie disciples, their sect leader, and second heir.

“Chifeng-zun, Second Young Master Nie, “a lower disciple said almost in a whisper, “Welcome to Lotus Pier.”

Nie Mingjue couldn’t help but frown as the Yunmeng disciples tittered about the gates, whispering amongst themselves. Servants quickly tended to their luggage, hastily informing them of where they would be staying for the discussion conference before scurrying off. Some of their faces were ashen and jittery, as if staying in one place for too long would bring some omen upon them.

‘Perhaps coming was a mistake, ‘he thought

“Da-ge, “the Nie Sect Leader looked to his little brother, “I don’t like this. I really don’t like this.”

“What? You want to go back to the Unclean Realm, “MingJue rasied an eyebrow

“No!, “Huaisang almost screamed in reply, “I...I’m worried about Wei-Xiong.”

Standing in the training ground with their disciples, the Nie brothers watched as disciples and servants alike scurried through the halls of Lotus Pier. All had their heads held downward as if they didn’t want to be noticed.

Nie Huaisang gave his brother a worried frown, “I’ve tried sending letters to Wei-Xiong before we came. The courier told me that Wei-Xiong was to be in seclusion until the discussion conference tomorrow.”

Returning his brother’s look, “Nie MingJue turned to observe the people of Lotus Pier once more

There were a couple disciples on the training grounds practicing their swordsmanship while others were a ways away practicing their archery. The sword training was going poorly, he observed, watching each disciple flinch as the loud *THUMP* of arrows hitting posts reached their ears.

The sight gave him a foreboding feeling.

“Nie Zongzhu, “Nie MingJue turned at the sound

“Jiang Zongzhu, “he nodded at the smiling man, “Thank you for this opportunity.”

“No need, “Jiang Fengmian shook his head, “This type of knowledge should be shared”

Jiang Fengmian turned to look at his training disciples. At the sight of their flinching, the man frowned at sighed.

Nie Huaisang walked to stand beside his brother, eyeing the Jiang Sect Leader.

“Is...is Wei-Xiong alright?, “Nie Huaisang asked while tightly gripping his fan

Jiang Fengmian paused, thinking for a bit, “Ah.....a-Xian is preparing for tomorrow.”

“Is that why he went into seclusion?, “he questioned

“It’s..., “the Jiang Sect Leader sighed, “I’m afraid that’s a personal matter, Second Young Master Nie.”

“But he’s okay, right?, “Nie Huaisang pressed

“He’s fine, “Jiang Fengmian’s smile returned, “You’ve known a-Xian for years. He’s always smiling no matter the adversity.”

Huaisang frowned at the reply, “Yeah...he’s...he’s really great.”

Placing a hand on his littler brother’s back, Nie MingJue nodded at Jiang Fengmian and started to lead his brother away, “Till tomorrow, Sect Leader Jiang.”

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The first week of the discussion conference seemed to go by in a flash. Each day was dedicated to a specific topic, invention, and/or book, Wei WuXian going into detail and answering any and all questions.

“Young Master Wei, do you intend to publish more?, “a sect leader asked one day

Smiling, Wei WuXian replied, “With more time and research, I plan to improve upon what I’ve already written, but more ideas will follow, I’m sure.”

After each lecture, minor sect leaders clamored to talk with the young man. Others sequestered Jiang Fengmian to a corner, talking up the young man and inquiring about tutoring for their heirs.

“My son is young and brash, perhaps a couple of week under Young Master Wei’s tutelage would straighten him out.”

“Jiang Zongzhu, my daughter has recently come of age and I was looking into decent matches for her. If you’d be inclined, I could get in touch with a matchmaker?”

The first seven days were almost repetitive in this way. Soon, however, the lectures came to an end and the final banquet before the competition was underway.

Like with the lectures, minor sect leaders cornered the Jiang Sect Leader and hounded him with questions and offers. The Jiang Sect Leader could only sigh and smile while he tried to talk down and placate the people around him.

Unlike with the lectures, disciples now felt more comfortable talking to the young Jiang cultivator now that wine was being circulated. Laughing and chatting up the young man, Wei WuXian found himself talking with disciples from multiple sects at once.

The banquet continued like this for a couple more hours. Both sect leader and head disciple moving about the room to talk to as many people as possible before the night’s end.

Said head disciple was currently talking with the leaders of the Lan contingent.

Wei WuXian, “Lan Zhan! It’s been far too long; how are you?”

Lan WangJi, “Wei Ying, “he nodded, “I am well”

Wei WuXian laughed, “That’s great!”

Facing the other two, he asked, “Lan-Laoshi, Zewu-jun, how are you?”

“We’re well, Young Master Wei, “Lan XiChen replied, “It’s been a long time since we’ve last spoken.”

‘It has, “Wei WuXian, “the last was back during the Qishan Archery Competition, wasn’t it?”

“Five years, “Lan Qiren replied, “You seem to have grown.”

“Ah, Lan-laoshi, “Wei WuXian gave a smirk, “Is that a compliment?”

Giving the younger man a blank look, Lan Wiren sighed before walking a little ways away.

“He still hates me, “Wei WuXian laughed at the Twin Jades

Lan WangJi shook his head at the man, “Xiaozhang and I enjoyed your books, “he stated

“Oh?, “Wei WuXian pondered

“Indeed, “Lan XiChen smiled, “I read your book on the Xiao and Dizi and was fascinated. I was wondering if you’d be willing to play a duet with me. Or maybe, try something on a night-hunt?

“A duet?, “Wei WuXian’s eyes widened before he grinned, “Of course, First Master Lan! No one else here plays the flute you see., “he chuckled

“Great, I’ll imagine we’ll have a lot of fun, “Lan XiChen grinned, “I’ll send an invitation for you to come to Cloud Recesses after we’ve settled back at home”

The air around the three men was light and cheerful. Lan XiChen and Wei WuXian chatted away, reminiscing about the past few years, and Lan WangJi added in his commentary when prompted.

Across the room, Yu ZiYuan was like a pot ready to boil over. A dark cloud surrounded the woman, making those not used to her temper and personality stay as far away from her side of the room as possible. Standing next to her was her best friend, Madam Jin.

“I guess it’s true then, “Madam Jin eyed Wei WuXian while he talked with the Twin Jades of Lan, “Has Jiang Fengmian finally admitted that he’s his bastard?, ”she turned to look at her friend

“Hah, no, “Yu ZiYuan laughed harshly, “he still denies it. Says this whole affair was to boost YunmengJiang’s relations. To attract promising disciples to the sects and bolster the coffers”

“That‘s not what most are going to believe though, is it, “Madam Jin scoffed, “He might as well admit it; he’s trying to depose his legitimate child for some half-breed”

At those words, the Violet Spider grew eerily quiet. The voices around them echoed through their ears, laughter and all matter of chatter going on around them. Madam Jin eyes her friend with a curious glace, wondering about the thoughts going through her friend’s head.

As if on auto-pilot, Madam Yu strode forward.

“ZiYuan?, “Madam Jin questioned

Yu ZiYuan stode the the bodies of cultivators, eyes focused on a singular target. Some eyed her warily as she pushed passed them; the rumors from before popping up in some of their heads as they looked to see where she was headed.

“Zewu-jun knows how to jest! Unexpected, “Wei WuXian chuckled, “Ah, Lan Zhan, you never told me your brother was this funny.”

“I wasn’t jesting, Young Master Wei, “the Lan sect’s heir smiled, “I’ve heard about your ChenQing and the melodies she plays.”

“Indeed, “Wei WuXian grinned back, “Oh, Lan Zhan, we could play a duet as well! What do you say? I’ll even let you pick the song. Or, the three of us could play something together.”

“You”

Wei WuXian paused and turned around, “Oh, Yu Furen-

*SLAP*

The sound of the slap silenced the entire room. Eyes turned to see Wei WuXian holding his cheek and Yu Ziyuan’s manicured hand raised high.

“You son of a servant!”

Reaching out, Yu ZiYuan yanked at Wei WuXian long tresses and threw him to the ground. Fisting his hair in her hand, she growled.

“You think you can do as you please in my home? Need I remind you who is the master here? Huh!”

Raising her other hand high, Yu ZiYuan brought it down with force.

*SLAP* *SLAP* *SLAP* *SLAP* *SLAP*

“You think you’re above my A-Cheng. You think you’re the master of YunmengJiang?!”

*SLAP* *SLAP* *SLAP*

“Well, let me tell you something. I am the Madam of YunmengJiang, and you will always be the son of whore!”

With a snarl, Yu ZiYuan threw Wei WuXian’s head back and at the same time kicked him harshly in the face.

“Mother!, “Jiang Yanli‘s voice broke through the crowd, “A-Xian!”

Everyone was frozen where they stood. The vehemence that radiated from Madam Yu shocked them so much she might as well have turned them to stone.

Wei WuXian coughed and sat up, One hand was covering his nose as blood rushed and stained his robes.

The dark cloud around the Violet Spider seemed to grow ever larger as towered over the young man. Her eyes were full of malice and an ugly snarl was stretched across her face.

Zidian unfurled.

“Conniving Dog!, “the Violet Spider seethed with hatred

With a scream, the whip lashed toward Wei WuXian. In front of everyone, the sight of Zidian tearing across his back was burned into their minds.

Flesh and blood flew as the whip dug deep and tore the skin. Rearing back, Yu ZiYuan let out a roar and striked again.

And again.

“Sanniang enough!”

For what seemed like forever, the Violet Spider vented her rage at the young man, her grunts, shouts, and insults filled everyone’s ears and bounced around in their heads. After what seemed like an eternity, Yu ZiYuan finally lowered the whip.

Voices cried out.

“Wei-Xiong!”

“Young Master Wei!”

“Wei Ying!”

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Author’s Notes:

-If there’s any confusion, this is a No SSC fic. So far, the only thing Wen Ruohan did was the Waterborne Abyss, but has not made a move in seven years.

-If you didn’t read the tags, I’ll remind you that this isn’t a fic for JC or Madam Yu fans. I will write them with their canon characteristics, I will not woobify them to fit your fanon nor will I excuse their abusive actions.

Read my other Prompts and WIPs [Here]

#wei wuxian #wwx #grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation #grand master of demonic cultivation #mdzs #gdc #the untamed #oc #original character #lan wangji #lan xichen #lxc #nie mingjue #nmj #nie huaisang #nhs #lan qiren #lqr #lwj

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monstersdownthepath · 4 years

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Monster Spotlight: Living Effigy

CR 8

Neutral Huge Construct

Adventure Path: Giantslayer: Ice Tomb of the Giant Queen, pg. 88~89

Construction Requirements: Craft Construct; Limited Wish, Nightmare, Trap The Soul. The creator must have a caster level of 15, and must make a Craft (Stonemasonry) check with a DC of 20.

A Living Effigy must be constructed from a 40 ton block of the appropriate material, typically stone but marble or bronze are also common. The quality, thankfully, does not appear to matter, but the carved face must also possess two matching gemstone eyes each worth at least 500 gp. While the statue is technically complete once the carving process is finished, the Living Effigy will not animate until the soul of the creature it was created for is implanted inside it, a process which occurs automatically so long as the creature perishes while within 1 mile of the statue if the gemstone eyes are intact.

Cost to Build: The laborious effort of carefully preparing the special gemstone eyes is almost as difficult as performing the exact carving necessary to perfectly capture the recipient’s likeness and instill it with enough latent spiritual energy that the soul can comfortably flee into it when its previous life ends. A single mistake in the carving process requires the entire block to be tossed aside and a new one used. This means, on average, a Living Effigy costs 35,000gp to create.

When a great chieftain, spiritual leader, or shaman is close to their final hour, they may worry about the safety of their tribe once they’re gone. For some, this worry becomes so extreme that they willingly bar themselves from the afterlife to watch over them forever, commissioning the construction of a stone housing for their soul. The life of a Living Effigy is not one that’s typically safe for a mortal mind, their immortal existence consisting of simply sitting completely still and silent for hours, days, weeks, months, years, decades, centuries, and longer. Some tribes may simply forget the Effigy is anything more than a quiet stone, paying heed to their past leaders through it but not knowing that the leader is still with them.

Effigies typically retain their sanity via entertaining themselves with their at-will Detect Thoughts, or the use of their 3/day Witness spell, sharing the senses of their people for hours at a time and quietly assuring that their lives are peaceful and plentiful. When guidance is needed, an Effigy’s Preserved Mind allows them access to the Knowledge they had in life with an additional +4 to two chosen skills, which they can share via the use of their 1/week Dream... provided no one’s done something to truly anger it, in which case its Shape Self allows it to alter its features into a more furious expression before unleashing its 1/week Nightmare upon those who’re leading the tribe to ruin. While useful for maintaining their knowledge as the ages march on, their Preserved Mind leaves them Vulnerable to Mind-Affecting Effects, as many ensouled Constructs are... if someone attacking the Effigy even knows it’s something more than a simple Statue, its true power nearly impossible to discern until it actually uses it.

While the purpose of a Living Effigy is mainly to maintain the soul of a wise and/or powerful figure, the mystic binding process has the fun little side-effect of instilling quite a bit of magic power into the Construct. They are 70%% support casters, able to use Calm Emotions, Crushing Despair, and Good Hope 3/day each, and the incredibly potent Arcane Concordance 1/day to bolster the casters of the tribe. They can also unleash Obscuring Mist at will to shield their helpless citizens from line of sight or confound encroaching enemies, but when push comes to shove, you can’t really shove harder than 40 tons of solid rock.

Ironically, the true shoving power of the Effigy does not lay in its slam attack, which deals a comparatively minor 2d8+7 damage, but in its voice. An Effigy can speak, but traditionally does not for fear of spooking its people and because it is simply insanely loud. The speaking voice of an Effigy is so loud it can use Sound Burst at will, damaging and potentially stunning entire crowds of foes at once, with a 3/day Empowered Sound Burst waiting in the wings for especially stubborn foes. Those who can’t be stunned may simply be flattened by a powerful, earth-shaking shout in the form of Thundering Drums, knocking them right off their feet or potentially killing them outright with 5d8 damage.

Tribes with one of these ancient guardians in their midst enjoy the protection of their most treasured ancestor in a way that’s both direct and indirect (Living Effigies normally only communicate with their most trusted allies, as citizens casually sharing the existence of the Construct can invite unwanted attention), and adventuring parties heading into negotiations with isolated and seemingly nonmagical tribes would do well to keep on the lookout for the gem-studded eyes of these massive stone sages.

You can read more about them here.

#Monster Spotlight #CR 6 to 10 #Pathfinder #Dungeons and Dragons

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artsy0wl · 3 years

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Maul: A Broken Evil Retrospective

On a Star Wars Amino I’m in, I had made an introspective on why I feel that Maul, while he is a villain is not whole heartedly evil, but broken. I took from said Amino post, with a few needed edit tweaks.

Chaotic Evil

Of course given the fact he was a Sith and some of the decisions he’s made, I don’t completely want to negate that in this discussion. If we were to use the alignment chart (lawful good, true neutral, chaotic evil, etc), he would probably fit best in Neutral Evil. From my understanding, Maul would fit Neutral Evil as a lot if what he does has to do with benefiting himself. Even if that means using allies (i.e. Ezra initially) and potentially betraying them (i.e. blinding Kanan once the Inquisitors were dealt with). He’ll follow things as he needs and can be calculating when he needs (like his take over of Mandalore). He’s not spontaneous enough or lacks enough restraint to be Chaotic Evil (like the Joker for instance), nor is he as calculating and “lawful” to be Lawful Evil (like say Thrawn and/or Palpatine). With that said, I’d agree that Maul has a darkness/evil in him considering all of the things he’s done. Obviously, he’s not winning any hero points by killing people like Qui Gon and Satine or blinding and attempting to kill Kanan.

Onto why I feel he’s broken.

Palpatine: Taken From a Young Age and Molded into what Sidious Wanted

Whether it be Talzin offering Maul as a child in Canon or his mother giving Palpatine Maul as a baby in Legends (Darth Plagueis), Maul was caught in a situation that he really didn’t have much control over. Granted, his life may not have been much better on Dathomir, given how the Nightsisters used their male counterparts, but there’s no telling what kind of life he could have had, had he not been handed over to Palpatine. Maul was molded into a weapon as Darth Sidious’ apprentice. And Maul spent most of his younger years being molded into what Sidious wants. Only to be “cast aside” when he is presumed dead. With Sidious being his only form of human contact/interaction, it’s fair to say that Maul feels a level of rejection/abandonment by the only person he had a bond with.

However, rather than having a level of depression because of it, he’s angry about it. For him that seems to be a common response, along with hatred and arrogance (the latter of which was used to explain how he survived the Phantom Menace). Sidious created a weapon out of Maul. And with that, a character with no real coping mechanism or knowing how to let things go.

A lot of, if not all of, Maul’s issues can be linked back to Sidious in some way. Sidious isn’t exactly Mentor of the Year material. Especially with Maul. Though that could be chopped up to him being a Sith and very manipulative. He wasn’t the kindest person to the Zabrak pre or post Phantom Menace (both in canon and Legends). Either way, a lot of Maul’s issues are a direct result of Palpatine’s involvement in his life.

If it weren’t for Sidious, Maul would have a normal life (or whatever that would equate to on Dathomir). He would have had his family, would have been more level headed and maybe less cocky, and he wouldn’t have enraged abandonment issues. The amount of grief, trauma, and hatred would be vastly different

Family: He Lost a Brother and a Mother

Let’s be real, thanks to Sidious, Maul’s lost a brother and a mother (two brothers when you count Feral, though he never got to meet him). By the time Savage came around in Clone Wars, we got to see Maul sort of build his character more than say the Phantom Menace (the novels did too, but I can’t say that everyone’s read them). We also get to see Maul exhibit more emotion where, again, the movie lacks as well as the introduction of his family, Mother Talzin, Feral, and Savage. And while Maul may not have been what you’d call an “affectionate” brother, he does care for Savage to the best of his ability.

Their deaths still haunted him years after the events of the Prequel Trilogy and Clone Wars. These deaths stuck with him psychologically to the point that he is still effected by it in Rebels. Which in turn, may have contributed some to him wanting Ezra as an apprentice (among other factors).

Torture After Loss

In Son of Dathomir after Maul tries to get back at Sidious, he is captured after his last battle with Sidious in Clone Wars (season 5). It starts off with Maul being interrogated and tortured by Sidious. He makes it through without faltering and escapes with the help of the Shadow Collective. That being said, we never really get to see where his mindset is. During Son of Dathomir, he gets a lot done, capturing Dooku and Grievous (taunting Sidious and working with Dooku to fight Obi Wan and a few other Jedi before escaping). However, we don’t get to see the mental toll Savage’s death here. Though with everything going on, I guess there wasn’t time.

Now the reason I bring this up, is because part of me felt like I should and the timing. Prior to Son of Dathomir, Maul had recently lost Savage. At the end, he loses his mother. The torture and the scheming in between shows how he didn’t catch a break. And while he was able to stay strong when he had to, they never really explored how the torture effected him, which one would think he would have been.

Obsession, Insanity, Arrogance: Maul’s Faults

I do feel like I address this point. I’ve already kind of touched on his anger and arrogance (synonymously with cockiness). While training Maul, Sidious didn’t consider how arrogant he had let the Zabrak become (according to Darth Plagueis, the novel). This has Maul’s Achilles Heel since the Phantom Menace. While having a healthy dose of pride never hurt anyone, a healthy dose, Maul dose not possess.

His obsession with getting Obi Wan and Sidious is another issue. This really only pops up after his apparent death in Phantom Menace. Because after that point, Maul finds out that he was replaced by Sidious (with Dooku) and that he was bested by a mere Padawan (Obi Wan). I feel like this obsessive tendency is a combination of his feelings of abandonment and having his ego damaged.

And of course, I feel like Maul’s roughly decade long battle with insanity really didn’t help his psyche. While his sanity was restored thanks to Mother Talzin and Savage, I do feel like that’s caused more harm than good. Something like that had to feel draining after getting his sanity restored. He was sitting on a trash planet and on his own. Along with not having anything from the waist down and forced to manage with what he had. Hatred may have helped keep him alive, but his psyche during those ten years didn’t.

He has a lot of internal conflict in an emotional and mental sense. Unfortunately, these negative emotions, obsession and pride especially, cause him more harm than good.

The Ezra Bond: Feeling a Need to Replicate a Connection, Even if He Approaches it Incorrectly

By the time Rebels rolls around, Maul is older and calmer (though still proud). Obviously, he still wants to get back at the Empire for what they (more specifically Sidious) did to him. And at first, Ezra seemed like someone that he could use. This is an element that is prevalent, however, not the only aspect of their relationship.

According to Sam Witwer, Maul’s VA, Maul did have a (platonic) fondness for Ezra. And on top of wanting to make Ezra his apprentice, Maul wanted to emulate a sense of brotherhood between him and Ezra. For example, his phrase in Visions and Voices when Maul says “...We can walk that path together. As friends. As brothers.” How he said it shows how he does miss Savage and wants that family back.

That being said, how he approached this connection could be seen as manipulative and more than likely one sided. Sure, over the course of Twilight of the Apprentice, Ezra grows on Maul, to the point where Maul wants to make him his apprentice and has an appreciation for Ezra. However, his pride and lack of planning cause a rift between them and there was a lot of mistrust on Ezra’s part, not that one could blame him.

Subsequent episodes show that Maul is hellbent on making Ezra his apprentice through any means possible.

Maul lost Savage and Talzin, and Ezra was one of the first few people to trust him in years. I think it’s safe to say that, in Maul’s mind, Ezra gave him a sense of belonging or connection.

Maul’s need for a connection could be interpreted as him trying to find something good in life. However, manipulative tendencies and how he was brought up, hinder him doing that in a healthy and positive way. With Savage, he didn’t need to do anything as they both had a similar plan when they met (Savage being indoctrinated into the ways of the Sith). But subsequent relationships (i.e. Ezra), Maul is at a bit of a disadvantage emotionally and morally.

Sure, he could relate to Ezra since they both lost people they care for because of the Empire (and by extent Sidious), but manipulation and harming Ezra’s allies hinder a smoother connection. Even if a force bond was eventually made. Ezra, arguably, could have been what he needed for what he wanted and a possible change/redemption/blank slate only for things not to entirely go as plan.

Could Maul Have Something Along the Lines of PTSD?

Now, I could do a mini theory about this as I’ve speculated that with another character before. It’d be an interesting way to look at Maul’s psychology. It’s one last little avenue I thought I’d address before closing this post out. Of course, it’s worth noting that I am not a Psychology major (as interesting as psychology is). I have, however, done some research.

I do believe that Maul, to some degree, may have PTSD. But instead of exhibiting panic/anxiety, depression or easily startled, Maul has more aggressive tendencies and is easy to anger. He still lives with the trauma of the death of his brother (and mother) and flashbacks of that and other events in his life, I’m sure he’d be effected by.

Conclusion

In conclusion, while I certainly think that Maul is no hero, his life experiences certainly effected what kind of person he became. Being raised as a weapon, abandoned, and tortured would bring any normal person way down. And because that was all Maul knew, I don’t think that entirely means he’s evil. Rather, he’s a character who’s been used and abused to the point that he’s mentally and psychologically broken. Unfortunately, that effects his life in ways that make him arrogant, hateful and obsessive. And when he tries to build bonds later in life, he doesn’t know how to in a way that, while laced in trauma, has manipulative and one sided undertones.

That being said, I feel like I should round out this introspective with a little positive. While he’s definitely been through a lot, Maul is pretty resilient all things considered. He’s cheated death and managed to live through a lot of abuse. The fact that he could keep bouncing back shows just hoe resilient and determined the character is.

#Darth Maul #Star Wars #Rebels #Clone Wars #Movies #Retrospective #Theory #Speculation #Discussion #PTSD?#Chaotic Evil #Maul #Star Wars Rebels #Star Wars Clone Wars #Zabrak #Prequel Trilogy

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starlight-starwrites · 4 years

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Trust

Part two

Pero Tovar x reader

note: the follow up to this ask by my friend @yespolkadotkitty! this is straight up smut, with a side of feelings, coming in at a surprising 5.6k words. also i was very pleased with how many people liked pero staring at reader’s legs so...enjoy a little more.

Though originally you had thought hiding the gold under your skirts was a genius idea, you now viciously regretted it. It was only the second day of riding, and despite the comfort of having Pero at your back, his arms settling around your waist, it hurt. You felt like lead, constantly weighed down, and that was without mentioning the pain of being in the saddle for so long.

The two of you had stopped last night for a few hours to get some rest, collapsing almost immediately after dismounting. Pero had tucked you into him, wrapping you both in the one blanket you thought to bring. It was cold and uncomfortable until you promptly passed out. As you rode now, tavern in sight, you had a feeling that your companion had not gotten nearly as much time as you. He slumped forward on you, normally which you would be pleased with had the sun not been beating down on you all day.

You turned to look at his face. He was gazing at the wagons and merchants already standing around outside, looking uncertain. When he caught you staring, he turned back to you, lips quirking.

“Are you okay?” you ask him.

He smiles with his eyes. You notice that about him. He doesn’t hide his emotions like you once thought he did; he expresses them differently. You know it is a side-effect of his profession, but the more you see him allow himself to feel, to look at you the way he does, you feel a swell of pride.

Pero looks at you like he doesn’t believe you could exist. His hand moves from where it rested on your thigh to press his palm to your abdomen, fingers reaching and feeling as if to make sure you were really here. “Never better, querida.” His face is close to yours, and his nose bumps the shell of your ear. “Hold on tight for me, hmm?”

You’re about to ask why, when suddenly he kicks the horse, and she leaps into a canter. A couple of people shout in protest, and Pero expertly maneuvers around them, cutting around the path to ride directly to the stables.

“I am not waiting any longer.” His voice is deep in your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

The tavern is not a tavern at all, but an inn. It’s the largest you’ve ever seen outside the city. As a waystation for travelers of all walks and frequent business stop for merchants, the place is bustling. The two of you are not likely to be noticed, just two more travelers--here and gone before anyone is wiser.

Pero dismounts with ease, turning back to you as soon as his feet are on the ground. His hands reach for your waist, and you brace yourself on his shoulders as he swings you down. You’re heavier now with the hidden loot, and you take a moment to balance, shifting your legs after straddling a horse for so long. You share a smile with Pero, and he tilts your head up by your chin.

“I will just be a moment.”

He speaks with the stable boy for a moment and you catch something about “rooms available” before the boy is saying yessir and leading the mare away. Pero has your bags slung over his shoulder, and before you know it, his hand is at your back and he’s already pushing you inside the inn. The place is nicer than the tavern you worked in, but the patrons appear to be about the same. It is not without drunks and sellswords, but the number of fat men in fine clothes does appear to be higher.

You follow Pero to the counter where the owner writes something down in a ledger. You begin to worry about the cost of staying here when the man greets you with a neutral face. But as soon as Pero asks for a room and drops two gold coins on the counter, the widening of the man’s eyes tells you all you need to know. At your tavern, it was common to see copper pieces, silver if someone’s tab ran high enough. You weren’t sure you’d ever handled gold coin before Pero had come to you rambling about a job and keeping the bag secret.

You had almost forgotten that the weight tied to your legs wasn’t just a burden. It meant you were rich.

The man hands over a key, telling you which room is yours. “The evening meal has already been prepared, so you may eat here, or we can have dinner brought to your room for you and your wife, if you would prefer.”

The sound of a hot meal almost made you miss the man’s words. Pero, however, seems to be struck dumb. You take hold of his arm to catch his attention, but even then he doesn’t seem to know what to say.

“I think we would prefer to eat in our room, if it’s not too much trouble,” you say. You fear he may hesitate too long and cause suspicion, but you can’t fight the grin that spreads across your face. Someone just assumed you were married, and Pero was flustered because of it.

His hand comes around your back and squeezes your side. After everything is in order, you walk to your room together, his arm heavy around your waist. Thoughts of what you could finally be doing with him chase away any remnants of exhaustion. And with how close Pero walks to you, you have a feeling he is thinking the same.

The room is clean, comfortable. The bed is just large enough for the two of you to fit side-by-side, and a chest of drawers rests against the opposite wall. Besides that, there is a short bedside table, and another in the corner with a basin of water. You don’t particularly care to inspect any of it, and instead dump your satchel on the chest and then collapse on the bed and kick off your shoes. Your legs are exhausted and now was as good a time as any to let Pero know it.

He stands across the room from you, already having set down the bags, and is now unbuckling straps to remove his long sword. His eyes never leave yours as he pulls it off and sets it down against the wall. His hands go to his belt next, unbuckling to remove the short sword and few knives that hang from it. He puts them off to the side, now quickly taking off the armor he wears on his arms.

You take off your traveling jacket before moving your hands to your skirts, still watching Pero intently. You creep the edge of the skirt up, yet his eyes never stray from your face. His chest plate falls with the rest of the armor, leaving him in just his tunic, pants, and boots. You had never seen him in such a state of undress before, and you think he should walk around like this more often. You can see the shape of him more clearly, and you know that there are fewer layers between you. He looks softer like this, a Pero Tovar that only you get to see.

“Pero,” you breathe. You don’t know why you call his name, but it seemed like the only thing you could say.

He steps toward you slowly, a teasing look on his face. “Yes?” He towers over you from where you sit on the bed before placing his hands on either side of you as he leans closer. You can feel his breath on your face, and your heart stutters.

Your hands grip the fabric of your skirts tighter, and suddenly you remember the reason why you are seated in the first place. You gather them up, pulling them to your hips to expose your legs once again. Pero’s eyes dart down despite the cool façade he has tried to keep, and you see a flush to his skin.

“I could use some help removing these,” you whisper, lifting a foot to place against his thigh. He can’t look at you anymore, his attention stolen by your legs, and just as important, the gold strapped to your legs.

He groans, pulling away from you to sink to his knees between your legs. Your breath catches, watching his every move. His hands move along your legs, touching you reverently, wrapping around your ankles as he puts a foot in his lap. He looks up at you now, admiring the way you look. Your mouth is open, chest heaving. With your jacket removed, he can admire the top of your breasts with every breath you take.

He finally meets your eyes, and you can see the want in his gaze. You wiggle your foot, brushing against his thigh and closer to his groin. He knows you’re trying to rile him up. And he knows that you know you’re succeeding. He gives a yank, making you fall back to your elbows, then places your ankle on his shoulder. He places a kiss on the inside of your leg, keeping eye contact, before untying one of the pouches and letting it drop to the floor. He places a second kiss on the side of your knee, hands sliding past your stockings onto the skin of your thigh where the garter secured two more pouches.

His fingers slip under, pulling the material away, letting the bagged coins fall to the ground with a clink. His mouth comes to the exposed flesh, kissing closer to your center. He stops short of where you want him and sinks his teeth in. You moan.

It comes without warning, and Pero feels himself harden when he looks at you. Hearing the sounds you make draws him closer to you, pushing you back against the bed while still holding your leg to his side, and he attaches his lips to yours. The kiss is hungry, much like the first one you shared, and he groans into your mouth. He has a hand on your jaw keeping your face turned to his as he devours you, and your hands slip into his hair again, bringing him close but wanting him closer still.

He bites at your lip, trying to pull away only to press another kiss underneath your chin. “Temptress,” he murmurs against your throat, and you pull tighter on his hair. He lifts his head to look at you, and you see the smile on his face. “You wanted these removed, no?” His hand grabs at you other leg, shaking the bags still strapped to you.

You grin up at him, reluctantly letting go. “Hurry up then,” your hand brushes over his hair as he sinks back down your body, “there is so much I want to do to you.”

He sighs deeply, pressing his mouth to your thigh again to suck a mark into your skin, hands roughly pulling down the stocking to completely bare your leg. He hardly even looks before his attention is turning to the other one. He rips the bags from where you tied them, both hands coming to rip the fabric of your garter, nearly throwing the bags behind him. One opens, spilling coins across the floor. Neither of you notice, too involved in the touches of the other. Pero’s kisses become hotter and rougher as he attacks the skin of your thighs.

He pushes you back from the edge, centers you on the bed so he can crawl over you, hands gripping behind each of your knees, allowing him to move your legs as he pleases. He keeps his face between your legs, kissing and marking and tasting, and you lose yourself in the feeling. Your gasping underneath him, and Pero thinks he has never been anywhere better than here, surrounded by you. His face comes to brush against the cloth still covering your core, and he is moments from ripping it from you when his hands get lost in your skirts. He tugs at them, attempting to find how to get them off before growling in frustration. Your hands fall from his head when he pulls back.

“Get these off,” he snaps, tugging at your outer skirts.

You sit up quickly hands flying to the buttons at your side, not caring if you ripped them off yourself. His hands are still palming the flesh of your thighs, a hand cupping your center, making you roll your hips into him, desperate for more. The first layer unbuttoned, you moved to the second as he tried to pull the fabric away from you. “Fuck. Fuck,” you repeat yourself as his hands leave you, pulling the skirts from your legs, nearly getting tangled in them.

“Damned skirts,” Pero curses when he finally gets a layer away from you, throwing it across the room. “Don’t want you to wear these again.”

Finally your legs are bared to him, and takes your underclothes off with a smooth movement. You giggle at the thought when he stares. You take your legs around his waist to pull him closer, making him bring his arms down to brace himself above you. “Yeah?” you tease, “shall I just walk around like this?” You wear nothing but your blouse and corset now, and you might have felt silly if not for the way he looks at you.

“I am beginning to consider it,” he growls into your chest, teeth skimming over the tops of your breast. “I will buy you a house, and there will be no one but us.” His hand comes to cup you again, his fingers now running over your folds. “And you will wear nothing.” He growls the words into your ear, and when his fingers run over you again, you moan.

Your hands grip his back, pulling up on the tunic he still wears. There is too much between you still, and you want to see more of him. He obliges, sitting up for a moment to pull his shirt over his head and throwing it among the other strewn items of clothing. He doesn’t give you a moment to appreciate his body before his hands are moving to your own blouse and pulling it up. You let him help you remove it, pulling it over your head and mussing your hair. As soon as it is gone, he runs his hand over your face, smoothing back your hair to kiss you. The force of the kiss has you falling back to the bed, and you wrap your arms around his back. Despite wanting him to kiss you like he is, to consume you and press you down how he is doing now, you want your chance to watch him, to make him as weak as he makes you.

You turn your head in an attempt to break the kiss, but instead he brings his attention to your neck. You let him get distracted and maneuver yourself to find a position of leverage. Pushing off from the bed, you use your legs to turn him, pushing him onto his back and taking your place straddling his hips. He moans at the change, and you can’t help but grind yourself over his growing bulge. He begins to sit up to get back at you, but you push him back, grinding against him again. He grits his teeth and his hands come to squeeze your hips, allowing you the moment, but warning you that he won’t allow teasing.

Your hands make a trail from his shoulders to his abdomen, feeling skin and scar and muscle, appreciating the way he looks without the armor. “Oh God, Pero,” you say back to him, “I don’t think I’ll let you wear anything either.”

He groans and makes to grab for you, but you slide off his hips to his lap, bringing your hands to pull at the ties at the front of his breeches. You get them undone swiftly, pulling down on them when he lifts his hips to help. You only get them to his knees when you encounter a problem. His tall boots still on prevent you from getting much further, and Pero nearly pushes you off him to pull them from his feet, tossing them aside. He stands up at the edge of the bed to remove the pants and you reach forward to help.

As soon as he kicks them off, he’s pushing you back to the bed, lips on yours. His kisses are passionate, making you melt to the mattress, surrendering to him again. You feel his skin against yours, and you swear it’s better than any feeling you’ve ever experienced. His hands grope at your body, pulling your breasts from the corset. It’s the only thing you still wear, not bothering you nearly as much as the fact that Pero still wears his smallclothes. You can feel the hard length of him against your leg, and you lift it to rub against him. When you look up at him, he’s a mess. His hair is mussed, standing up in places where you pulled, and four red lines cut across his chest showing where you must have scratched him. His mouth drops open at the contact, and he moans, looking at you with a dark gaze.

His hand comes to wrap around your throat, gently holding you in place as he grips the joint between your hip and thigh to rub himself against your leg again. His own thigh comes up between yours, and motions for you to move on him. You feel the skin of his thigh, grind yourself on the hard muscle there. You’re already wet, and Pero groans at the slick feeling as you rub against him.

Your fingers reach to his waist band, tugging on it. “Please, Pero, I need you,” you whine. You grind on him again, relieved at the friction on your clit. “I need you.”

“You make me crazy, hermosa.” He bends to kiss you again, biting down on your lip. He’s moments away from removing the shorts, hand squeezing at your ass before moving to his own waist when there is a knock on the door.

He releases your lip, surprised at the sound. You try to sit up even with him on top of you, worry at who could be there. Without thinking, Pero shouts “Go away!”

He turns from the door to you again, indenting to go back right where he left off when the knock sounds again.

He growls and pulls himself away from you to stride to the door, unsheathing a sword as he does. You gasp, scrambling to pull the edge of the quilt to cover yourself while you hiss out Pero’s name in warning. He ignores it, ripping open the door.

“What in the living hell are you here for?”

You’re impressed by the wrath in his voice, and you think if you had been on the receiving end of his question, you would fear for your life.

The poor young thing on the other side of door squeaks out “Your, your d-dinner, sir!”

Pero doesn’t say a word, only snatches the tray before slamming the door shut again and locking it. The food is placed aside on the table, sword returned to the dresser, and then he’s turning on you again. Your hand is clasped to your mouth, taking a moment to feel relief that it was nothing but the dinner you had ordered be sent up. You let your hand drop and whisper “Holy shit,” before dissolving into a fit of giggles.

Pero shakes his head at you, partially amused by your reaction. He comes back to bed, crawling up your body, and you readily place your hands on his shoulders to welcome him back. You put your forehead to his chest, let the last of your laughter fade. “Oh, you are terrifying. Being greeted by an angry, mostly naked man wielding a sword.” You laugh again, pulling him closer. “I might have just died.”

Perhaps he would have found the situation funny at another time. But now when you say that, he is reminded how he greeted you the day before, in fear of another betrayal. He had unjustly assumed that you, who had always kept him company, cared for him better than any normal hostess should, who laughed with him and treated him like he was worth more than just his sword and his skill, would take the trust he gave you and destroy him with it.

You notice the scowl he wears, finally rub your fingers over the creases in his brow. “Is everything alright?”

He takes hold of your hand, resting it on his chest. “No. I must apologize, amor.” He hesitates, trying to find the right words. How could he act as though the gold was worth more to him than you?

He hears you whisper his name, bringing him back to you. “I should never have even thought to blame you.” He sees confusion in your eyes. “Yesterday. I reacted mindlessly. I dishonored you to ever think that you would do such a thing.”

You shake your head, finally understanding. “Pero, you don’t have to…”

He places his fingers over your lips in a gentle touch, moving to cup your chin when you stop.

“I must say this,” he says earnestly, and your heart thunders at what he may confess. It takes him a breath; he stares at you intently as though he is memorizing something. “I trust you. I do. I need you to know that.”

Somehow that means more to you than any other confession he could have made. Your face softens. This is important to him and now important to you.

“I do, my love. I know.” You hope he knows just how much you do. His hand squeezes your thigh reassuringly, reminding you of your intimate position. Running your hands down his body, you pull him closer, shooting him a teasing smile. “But I wouldn’t mind if you showed me.”

He lets out a strained grunt, pressing more of his weight on to you. “I cannot wait any longer,” he rasps into your mouth, before capturing your lips in a passionate kiss.

You move your lips languidly, tasting him for your pleasure, but pouring in your care for his. He deserves softness, to know that someone cares, that someone supports him. You want to tell him he isn’t alone anymore, that you mean every word you ever say to him with this kiss. Your hands smooth over the planes of his back as he moves with you, gripping the only fabric left on him and pulling it down his legs.

He shifts above you, breaking the kiss for a moment to toss away the shorts, then hands come back to your legs, pulling them up around him. His mouth is soft on yours, one hand rubs along your cheekbone, while the other makes a path up your inner thigh, not stopping as fingers trace along your folds. You had been too long without this feeling, and you buck your hips to press further into his hand.

He takes the hint, middle finger brushing over your clit before moving down, parting you and slipping inside. You sigh at the feeling, wanting to move under him, but force yourself to stay still.

“More, Pero,” you say against his lips, growing more impatient. “Please don’t tease.”

Then he’s moving inside you, running his finger against your walls, and you can’t help but squirm. You were wet before, and now you were nearly dripping. Before you can say anything, he moves faster, slipping in a second finger. It’s not what you were going to ask for, but he knows to prepare you. You appreciate that he tempers his own impatience for you, but if judging by the sound as he fingers you, you think you are more than ready for him.

Your back arches when he reaches a spot inside you, and you tighten your legs around him, attempting to draw his attention from where his fingers move in and out of you.

“Pero, Pero please,” you whine. “I want you. I want to come with you inside me.”

You feel the pressure build in you as you watch him. He keeps a steady pace, coaxing sounds from where he touches you and from your throat. Your moan brings him to look at you, and he realizes.

“You are close, are you?” he asks, voice taking on a tone you don’t like. He brings his thumb to you, coating it with your slick before bringing it to rub at your bundle of nerves. He doesn’t stop pumping in and out of you, the small circles now joining the sensation. “Spread your legs for me, hermosa. I want to see you.”

You writhe underneath his touch but obey him anyway. You are close, feeling the rising heat, the twisting in your abdomen. He works steadily, as if he knew to drive you crazy. It builds, making you quiver with each brush of his thumb, pulsing around the fingers inside you. His other hand comes around your throat, and your eyes meet his.

“I am inside you,” he says, curling his fingers again as if to make the point. “Now come.”

His predatory gaze and demanding words send you over the edge. Your moan turns into a cry as his fingers do not stop their pace, drawing the heat and wetness from your core, making you shake around him, under him. You call his name, not sure if you want him to stop or to never stop.

Before you can make up your mind, he pulls his fingers from you, keeping you in place only by your neck. Despite the incredible high you feel, the solidness of his body between your quivering legs, it leaves you unsatisfied. You squirm, wishing he would touch you again, to draw out your climax. You’re still whining his name, and he looks down at you with a devilish smile.

He leans forward to press his lips to yours. It’s a gracious kiss, but still teasing. “What is it?” he asks, smiling down at you. “I let you come.”

“No, you didn’t!” You don’t know where the anger comes from, and you reach up a hand to hit his chest. “I needed more.”

He snatches your hands away. “Needed?”

“Need!” Your hands are pinned above your head with one of his.

You start to hate that his grin only gets wider. “You need more from me?” His other hand pushes your leg aside, reaches to take hold of himself, stroking slowly as he looks at you spread for him. “You will have more, hermosa.”

He takes the tip of his cock and drags it through your folds, spreading the wetness from his hand over himself before entering you fully. You both let out loud moans, taking a brief moment to breathe in the change. He’s big, the stretch pulling you, making you grateful for the time he spent spreading you with his fingers. You want to enjoy the feeling, but he doesn’t give you the chance.

He pulls out of you, before sliding in again with more force. The pace he sets is brutal, entering you faster than his fingers ever did. You feel your ruined orgasm building even faster, and you say more curses than you ever have in your life. Pero’s grunts spur you even closer, the sound of him and the sound of skin hitting skin, the wet squelching as he drives his hips into yours. You start to shake under him already, twisting your wrists where he keeps them pinned to the mattress.

“Pero, fuck. I—” you break off, not even sure what you intended to say. His thrusts come harder, making your body bounce on his cock. You take a shuddering breath, legs wrapped tight around his waist so he can still move inside you. His one hand has never left your throat, but now he takes his other to grip the headboard, using it as leverage to keep pounding into you, bringing you even closer.

“What is it, hermosa? You still need more?”

Pero can see the way you look, eyes glazed, hands grasping for any inch of his skin, leaving scratch marks anywhere you can reach, unable to form any words. You’re tight around him, and with the pace he’s keeping, he fears he cannot last much longer. You’re close again, he can tell. Perhaps his teasing was unfair, but with the disheveled look you have, the way you arch your body and moan for him, he cannot find it in himself to feel any remorse. You are beautiful, much too good for him, but time and time again you prove to him that you want to be here. And how could he deny you?

His pace stutters for a moment, before his hand on your throat comes to your calf, pulling your leg from around him and lifting it in the air. The stretch, the angle has you teetering on the edge, and you arch again.

“Pero!” you cry out his thrusts into you get faster, and suddenly you’re coming. You feel nothing but his cock as your walls tighten around him. Not the hands holding you, or the mattress at your back, or his breath on your neck as he leans down. You begin to shake again, thinking the feeling is too much as his pace continues, working you through your high. You nearly hated him for stopping too soon before, but now you begin to think it was to save you from this, the feeling of losing yourself in your own body, being at the mercy of this man.

You can’t stop the moan that rips from your throat, a primal sound that Pero doesn’t expect. The feeling of you coming around him, the sound of you moaning in his ear drives him over the edge. He had been too careless, getting lost in the feeling of you, that not a moment after pulling out of your heat he’s coming, painting your inner thigh and hip with his seed. He strokes himself slowly has he does, and he is surprised when your hand joins his.

You are pleased to feel how wet he is, knowing it is your come on him, just as his now is on you. You stroke him, taking his length into your hand with a tight grip, not letting up as he moans and twitches above you. He thrusts his hips into your hand, and it only takes a moment before another spurt of come paints you again. He shudders, his large palm coming to cup the side of your face as you rub your fingers over the tip of him, wiping away what drips from him.

He groans, twitching under your touch, eyes locked on yours, and you become overwhelmed with curiosity. You pull your hand from him and take your two fingers into your mouth, tasting the mix of both of you. Pero moans in protest at the sight, quickly pulling your hand from your mouth and replacing it with his tongue. His lips press to yours as he swipes into your mouth, searching the taste.

His body is heavy and he is exhausted, but he has no desire to part from you. His hands slip underneath your body and he rolls to his back, keeping you on top of him so his lips never leave yours. He continues to kiss you like this, without the concern of crushing you. As he runs his hands over your back, he feels the laces of your corset, pulled down to allow your bare breasts to press to the skin of his chest.

In this moment, he feels nothing but gratitude for you, that you exist, that you are here, that you want him as much as he wants you. Your kiss turns to light pecks as you take over, smattering his face in little kisses, only pulling away to look down at him when you realize he is smiling.

“What is it?” you whisper, taking hold of his face and returning his smile.

He takes one of your hands to move it to his lips and presses a gentle kiss to your palm. “I meant what I said, mi amor. I cannot give you what—”

“Pero.”

“—you deserve, but I swear that—”

“Pero.” Oh, he’s doing it again. You can’t believe how hard it is for him to an idea through his thick skull.

“—when I said that I—”

You kiss him. You can see what he is doing, and you do not want to hear it. He hasn’t had people so close to him, that you knew. It had taken time to learn the inner workings of Pero Tovar, but you’ve done it, and that’s how you know what to say.

“I trust you, too.” You brush the hair from his forehead and caress his cheek, feeling the scruff along his jaw. “I trust you, Pero.”

You whisper the words onto his lips, and his throat tightens. It feels right having you here in his arms; there’s a security to the feeling that despite the danger that awaits you out the door, despite the matters of money and work and employers, you stand out from it all. The gold on the floor below your tangled bodies would mean nothing to him if you were not in his arms. Maybe one day he will find the courage to tell you everything, to tell you what you really mean to him. But for now, it is enough for him to give his trust and receive yours in return.

#pero tovar #pero tovar x reader #tovar x reader #the great wall

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sothatmyocshauntmealittleless · 3 years

Text

No time to die - part 2/2

->part 1

author's note: the story is finished for now, and I don't think that I would go back to them in the near future. While writing it, at some point a voice in my head tried to convince me to turn it into something more, but I don't think I have the material for it, for now. Anyways I hope that you enjoy it.

~1600 words

The night passes peacefully, or at least what's left of it. And when morning comes, I can’t really tell who wakes up first, because we fall fast into the easy routine of making breakfast. Nothing fancy but it’ll do for now. She puts the cheese on my side of the table and the blackberry jam on hers, like how we used to trade them when we got the same package on school trips. Jam for her and her love of sweet flavors, and cheese for me because I never understood how could people eat something that sweet and I could eat cheese on every meal.

We chat while we eat, mostly about silly little things in our lives that aren’t too impersonal that it’d be awkward but aren’t truly intimate either. Beside talking about the general state of our families, she tells me about her weird classmates or funny moments in uni, and then asks me about my neighbor, an old lady who is always source of bizarre tales. And then we go on to talk about the latest news and events that happened in the world, carefully avoiding sensitive subjects, because we both know that our newfound proximity is too fragile to be tested like that yet.

This is an easy dance, one we had mastered before. Casual conversations for tiring days when we didn’t have energy for anything serious. But I guess now, after being apart for so long this acts as a shortcut to how we used to be back then and without even noticing we grow closer as it goes, and the room has gone silent.

The stillness of this moment freezes time for me, and then breaks it completely. I’m thrown back in time and we’re seventeen again. It’s the day before it all changed, or the day that changed it all, depends on your view. It’s the launch break before the last period on a Tuesday and we were sitting on the school yard’s floor. I can’t exactly remember what we were talking about, but back then we could never be spotted apart from each other. With our heated conversations and ambitious plans, discussing latest political changes and saying how if we were older we would do something about them. For once it felt like I knew which way things were going and I was less afraid to face what was to come. Maybe our dreams my dreams sound a little naïve now, but we were going to study humanities and we were going to make the world a better place. And well now I know for a fact that how I felt wasn’t just because of my dreams for the future, a big part of it was because of her. Having someone to share the scary and exiting parts of being a teenager with, felt truly special.

Then the bell rang and we had to go back to our class. We were crossing that last hallway and I realized that we were all alone, I was delighted, and felt like I was walking on air. I so desperately wanted to share this feeling with her, to let her know that she was part of the reason why, but I didn’t quite have the words for it. As our voices got quieter and our steps grew slower, we were turning towards each other, until I was facing her and she was looking at me. I can’t really remember what finally pushed me off the edge, but I took a step toward her and slightly rose up on my feet, and touched our lips very gently and briefly together, then pulled back to wait for her reaction. But before she could say a word or do anything a loud shouting made us both jump from where we were standing. I couldn’t register it at first but when I looked at the direction it was coming from, I understood that it was one of the school staff yelling at us to go to our class.

I felt so whiplashed from the contrast of those moments that I went straight to the class. During that period, which was one of the few ones that we didn’t sit together because the teacher had assigned the sits, I tried to make eye contact with her but she wouldn’t look at me. And when the period finally ended before I could reach her, they paged her from the office and she stormed out, and I couldn’t see her again that day. It seemed like an unfortunate coincidence back then, but now it makes sense considering what she was about to do, needed some paper work.

That day when I got home, I couldn’t bring myself to text her and thought that it would be easier to talk to her in person. Little did I know. The next day when she was absent in the first period, I was so close to breaking down crying in the hallway in the break after, when one of the girls from the other class found me and asked me if I had seen her. When I said that she hadn’t come to school that day, the other girl replied with a bit of confusion in her voice that “She was in our class today. She transferred subjects yesterday, I thought that you’d know.”

“What do you mean?” I was so shocked I was nearly shouting, and the other girl wasn’t having any of it so she shrugged and said “go see for yourself she will probably go back to our class soon.” She was indeed in the biology class, and she was sitting with one of their groups, laughing and chatting like it was something she would do every day. She wasn’t exactly cold with me but there wasn’t any of that previous intimacy either. “You didn’t tell me that you were changing your subject to biology?” bitterness and confusion bleeding out from my voice, “Yeah, it happened fast. Now you know.” She said it so casually that I was starting to doubt that this was all a dream. “And since when do you even like it?” “I never hated it, I’ve just decided it’s the best path I can go.” And well that argument (if we can even call it that because she couldn’t be more calm about it) and the next ones when I was trying to figure out what had changed her mind so abruptly led to nothing. She treated it like the most normal thing in the world. And she didn’t exactly change or end our friendship directly but from that point on, she wanted to do everything with her new group of friends, and mostly ignored all the little intimate things we used to share, and well of course I was welcome to join but it was never like how we were before. She also dogged all of my attempts at talking about what had happened that Tuesday in the hallways.

After a month or so I couldn’t take it anymore. I started ignoring her offers to join them at launch, and stopped responding to her texts. I found a natural group in our class to spend the breaks with and buried myself under studying. Nothing really happened in the last month left of eleventh grade and twelfth grade. We both got accepted in the universities that we wanted, she was going to be a doctor, and I was going to study law. I never stopped chasing what she was doing from afar, from this other friends’ Instagram or that other one in common group chats, but we never made direct contact for more than five years.

Until now, that she is in my kitchen, in a dead silent morning, and we’re just inches apart. It is kind of like how it was in that hallway, but this time I don’t have it in me to initialize anything. My breaths slow down and she is looking directly at me, not pulling away. I can’t tell how she feels from her expression, I hope mine doesn’t give away much either, but even assuming she hasn’t already sensed my rapid pulse, I can bet that my eyes are screaming to her to do something. Anything. But neither of us does anything.

Finally, we break apart when her phone dings with a notification sound, and she stands to pick it up.

“I should probably get going. He has arrived.”

“Um you called a ride?”

“No, it’s a friend.”

“Oh okay, do you need anything before you go?”

“No. Is it fine if he comes up?”

“Yeah, it’s totally okay.”

When he comes up, she introduces us briefly. Apparently, he’s a friend from university, she hasn’t told me anything about him during breakfast. It takes all of me to not roll my eyes at his bland comments, and not stare at them holding hands. I thank her one last time for what she did last night, not exactly mentioning what it was, suspecting that she hadn’t told him the whole truth. We say our final goodbyes and they go where ever they’re heading.

After she’s gone I don’t know how to feel about the whole situation. At least I didn’t die bleeding out on my floor. But I don’t know which would be more painful, trying to mend our relationship, knowing it’d never go where I want it to, or abandoning it again after having a taste of it after so many years. Well maybe, just maybe, I’ve become less stubborn from when I was seventeen, and with missing her so much I would just accept whatever piece of her she decides to give me.

-the end-

#I can't believe I got away in this one with just naming one of the characters #lets pretend that it was an artistic choice rather than the result of my disability in picking name for my ocs #writing #my writing #writers on tumblr #writrblr

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feralfeed · 4 years

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JULY UPDATE - Premium Currency, Season Passes, and ANOTHER Premium Shop... oh god why

Hello all, this is an overall rundown and analysis of the July update, and first impressions of it’s features. Please note, that I’m going to be a tad bit hypercritical of the whole thing- I’ll be honest about the pros and cons, because I genuinely want to see this game become amazing. There will be a TL;DR at the bottom - I encourage you to read that if nothing else, because I want to make an important point there.

Season Passes

Okay, this feature struck me as a bit... strange. When I first saw the name, I immediately thought of the way Fortnite and Epic Games make money, which didn’t exactly leave a good taste in my mouth. I was pleasantly surprised to learn that this is a free feature... and once again disappointed to see the premium version.

Rundown:

By completing tasks assigned to the player in a challenge board, you unlock points to earn a wide variety of prizes, from items, to likes, to avatars, and even customization options for said avatar. However, the bulk of these items are under a 900 star fragment paywall, which translates to about $10.

My Breakdown:

Not gonna lie, this ain’t great. It does throw some new items at the players, which is nice and all, but honestly, there really isn’t much incentive to actually complete the challenges if you aren’t buying the premium pass. How “good” the items you can earn for free strongly remind me of how “good” the nonmember items back in Animal Jam were. And they are RARE - when you get to later in the list, there are very few items marked as “free”. Wildworks may as well have just dropped the concept of a premium pass, and just made the entire season pass cost money. Plus, while the update claims that you can earn points for the challenges “just by playing the game”, this really isn’t true. Most of them are such oddly specific tasks, I would need to go out of my way to complete nearly every single one of them. And the ones that are “normal gameplay” challenges have OUTRAGEOUSLY HIGH numbers. For example, crafting 15 common clothing items. I would need to waste a LOT of materials to do that, since most players pretty carefully plan which items to craft for which looks.

Star Fragments and the Astral Shop

I’m not gonna pretend that this wasn’t coming. Most free games require premium currency. But while the game is still in beta?

Rundown:

Fer.al’s new premium currency. It appears that buying sanctuaries and avatars with straight money was more of a placeholder - the royal boutique now serves the exclusive role of selling star fragments, which you will now spend at the astral shop. On average, 1 star fragment costs anywhere from 1.25 cents - 1.1 cents, depending upon which bundle you buy. This means that a 300 star fragment sanctuary in the astral shop costs about $3.53.

My Breakdown:

I don’t really have too much to say about this, to be honest. I’ve expressed my fears about monetizing an unfinished game in previous posts. After the dragon, there was no going back.

The Notification Tab

A nifty new tool that notifies you on challenge progress, and your friends getting on and offline. There may be other things it notifies you of as well that I haven’t seen yet. Overall, a useful new feature.

Selfie Camera

Another feature on the better side of things. Although, it is a little mundane, it does one-up just taking a screenshot - you have the ability to zoom in and out, and turn nametags on and off. It creates a “gallery” folder on your computer that opens with an in-game button.

Undying

You can also now undye your items. Someone will need this after a regretful decision, I’m sure.

TL;DR and Final Concerns

The reason that I took such a critical tone in this post is that Fer.al, in my opinion, is heading down a negative path. Currently, the game has no real substance - which is fine in itself, given that it’s a work in progress. However, they’re already introducing a LOT of paid content, and not only paywalls, but do-hours-of-pointless-miscellaneous-tasks-walls. In a way, the game is becoming pay-to-win. So long as “winning” the game is having the best items and the best avatar, winning is no longer free. Fer.al is such a beautiful game, and beautiful concept, and I hate to see it turning out this way. Wildworks needs to give the game more substance- more goals- more reward- more story- SOMETHING, before they start to introduce such steep in-game purchases. They’re going after a teen/adult audience, and most of us can’t dish out money to play dress up anymore.

#fer.al #jamblr #news #rant #my content #animal jam #everyone in city fera is doing trades specifically to complete challenges #its sad #ferablr

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kumeko · 4 years

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A/N: For @momojirou-dateszine ! I got to write about the first anniversary.

Summary: It was rare that Kyoka ever managed to surprise Momo, but for their first anniversary she was going to try.

…

“We’re done.” Momo yawned as she stretched her arms above her head. The delicate crepes and chiffon of her dress rustled with each movement and she was grateful that the material didn’t irritate after a day of walking around in it. Unlike her feet, which were a little sore as she stood in her heels. “Though that didn’t go exactly as planned.”

“We spent the whole day tailing him and we got nothing.” Kyoka frowned, gritting her teeth as she glared off at the mall next to them. The brightly lit building loomed over them. “Aside from his love for dragon fruit.”

“I still can’t believe he spent all day shopping only to buy that.” Momo glanced at Kyoka, cocking her head. Aside from a few of their dates and get-togethers with friends, she didn’t spend much time in the mall. “Is that common?”

“Uh…sorta?” Kyoka scratched her cheek as she considered it. “I mean…sometimes you don’t find what you want or—no, no, we are not going to talk about a supervillain and his habits right now. What a waste of time.”

Well, perhaps it was in terms of work—they had been spying on this villain for days now and still hadn’t found even a hint of his hideout. However, in terms of other things…well, Momo couldn’t complain at all. Next to her, Kyoka was in a jean jacket. To put it in crude terms, she looked hot and Momo shyly reached out to squeeze her hand. “It wasn’t that bad. We haven’t had a date in ages.”

Kyoka stiffened, staring down at their intertwined fingers before quickly jerking her head away. A light dusting of red coloured her eyes as she coughed and cleared her throat. “Perfect timing, actually.”

It was a sight she had seen many times but somehow the red on Kyoka’s cheeks and the warmth of her hand was more than enough to make her own heart beat fast. Despite how long they’d been together, Momo flushed as well, feeling more like a high school student than an adult. Tongue-tied, she mumbled, “It was a perfect date.”

“That too,” Kyoka agreed, tugging on her left ear jack. It was an endearing and familiar motion, something she did whenever she was embarrassed and didn’t know what to say. “I can’t actually remember the last time we had one.”

Momo’s free hand cradled her cheek, unable to refute Kyoka. An uneasy feeling settled in the pit of her stomach—no, they were fine, this wasn’t an issue. They could steer back on course from here. “As important as our jobs are, we have to make time for ourselves.” Letting go, Momo dug into her purse for her planner. It was stupid, booking a date, but if Momo didn’t at least pencil something in, they’d let work take over.

Or maybe she would just let work take over. A small wave of guilt washed over her at the thought. Between the two of them, she had been cancelling dates more often than Kyoka. Not that her girlfriend complained—at least not seriously. Kyoka teased about it sometimes, late at night when she handed Momo a steaming cup of hot chocolate after a long day. Momo feared what Kyoka hid behind her grin. Feeling the hard edge of her agenda, she yanked it out. “I think next—”

“It’s fine.” Kyoka grabbed her wrist, stilling her actions. There was a touch of desperation in her voice. “Let’s do this later.”

“Later?” Momo resisted the urge to clean her ears. Normally, Kyoka would be the one encouraging her. Actually, now that she thought about it, Kyoka’s earlier words didn’t make sense. “You said that too. What were you talking about?”

“…nothing.” A grimace flashed across Kyoka’s face before she settled for an embarrassed expression. “It was just fun to be with you.”

Normally, that was enough for Momo to drop the whole subject. Fighting the smile that threatened to take over her face, she pressed. “What did you mean?”

“Honestly, nothing.” Kyoka let go of her wrist and Momo missed the warmth immediately. Lacing her hands behind her head, she shrugged. “Let’s wrap up and grab dinner after.”

It was the most obvious change of subject and Momo didn’t know if she should feel insulted that her girlfriend thought it’d work. “Kyoka.”

Ignoring her, Kyoka slowly strolled forward. “We still hafta hand in our report, right?”

There would be no clarifications, at least not tonight. Giving up with a sigh, Momo followed. “You mean I’ll be handing in our report.”

“Well, your writing is neater than mine,” Kyoka answered with an impish grin. She pecked Momo’s cheek. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”

-x-

“Where are we going?” Momo asked for the tenth time that night, trudging slowly behind Kyoka. “I know you’re hungry, but I don’t think there are any stalls in this park.” She paused, looking around. “Actually, I do not think there’s anyone here at all. Is it safe?”

Considering the time, Kyoka should have expected how empty the park was. Small pools of light lit their way, their shadows growing and shrinking as they traversed each one. It felt eerie. Keeping her smile up to dispel her unease, she reassured, “We’re almost there.”

“You said that already,” Momo refuted crossly. She stumbled on the uneven ground and reached out to steady herself against a tree. “It’s dark, it’s cold, and maybe we should have changed if you wanted a hike?”

There was not a single hint of suspicion in her voice and Kyoka resisted the urge to laugh. It had been so hard erase all evidence of their anniversary, what with Momo’s planner, calendar, phone, and a host of sticky notes. Add in Momo’s amazing memory and need to plan things in advance, and it was a miracle that Kyoka had managed to keep this plan of hers a secret.

Though, it helped that they had been overloaded with work for the past few months. Or rather, that Momo was. Without the monsters of their class here to steal scene, Momo’s innate talents as a strategist were being utilized for once. Overused, even. Kyoka was proud of her.

And completely happy to take advantage of this rare chance to surprise her girlfriend. Looping her arm through Momo’s to steady her, Kyoka cocked her head. “Is that better?”

“Y-yes.” Flustered by the close contact, she looked away. A hand played with the edges of her bangs as she tried to hide her red cheeks. “But I still don’t think this is a safe idea.”

“The two of us are more than enough to take anyone on. But you’re right, next time I’ll do this in the day.” Spotting a weeping willow just ahead, she picked up the pace. “It’s on the other side of that tree.”

“Really?” Momo tightened her grip on Kyoka as she tried to keep her balance; the path was gravellier now. “I don’t see any lights—is this another of those ‘dives’ that Kaminari keeps recommending? I don’t think it’s very reputable.”

Despite her words, a vein of eagerness ran through her tone; with her sheltered upbringing, Momo was always curious about ‘commoner’ living. Sometimes, she was too easy to read. Kyoka shook her head, fighting down a smile. “Don’t worry, it’s there.”

As they circled the tree, Momo squinted out into the gloom, trying to make out any figures. “If it is a food truck, I think it left—did someone leave a blanket out here?”

Kyoka snickered as Momo’s eyes widened, taking in the sight before her. Spread out on the soft grass was checkered picnic blanket with a wicker basket on top, weighing it down. Small lamps circled the perimeter, giving enough light to make out the details. A wine bottle sat in a bucket of ice, two delicate glasses next to it, and Momo turned to her confused. “Did someone forget their picnic?”

Despite Momo’s intelligence, she was surprisingly dense when it came to something personal. Kyoka raised a brow. “How does someone forget a picnic?”

“They could…you?” Momo stared at her, then back at the picnic spread. Letting go of Kyoka, she reached down to pick one of the glasses. “That’s ours. When…how…”

“I had a little help from our friends.” Kyoka scratched her cheek, pleased. It had been worth sneaking out the past two nights to arrange this—Momo’s expression was priceless. Catching a shiver run up Momo’s spine, Kyoka took off her jacket and gently laid it on her shoulders. “Happy anniversary.”

Momo smiled softly in response, setting down the glass. She pulled the jacket around her tighter. “Thanks. Happy anni—” Snapping her jaw shut, her eyes widened as she hastily pulled out her phone. She paled as she read it. Looking back and forth between the screen and Kyoka, she stood up. “It’s our anniversary.”

“It is.” Kyoka nodded, smiling softly. “Surprise!”

Momo turned as white as a sheet. “I’m so sorry, I forgot, I just—” She looked at the phone again, as though the date would change if she just stared at it long enough. “I’m sorry.”

Kyoka’s smile dropped. Shit. She should have realized earlier how Momo would take this. Before her girlfriend could flee any further, Kyoka took a step forward and wrapped an arm around her waist, drawing her close. Gently, she reached up and brushed Momo’s bangs. “You have nothing to be sorry about, silly. I wanted to surprise you.”

“Still.” Leaning her forehead on Kyoka’s shoulder, Momo spoke with a muffled voice. “I forgot. Who forgets their anniversary?”

“Lots of people,” Kyoka reassured, stroking her back softly. “Kaminari. Deku. Kaminari. Bakugou.”

“You said Kaminari twice.” Momo snorted, an unrefined sound. Not at all like the lady she was raised to be and Kyoka felt a surge of happiness at the realization that they were so close that they were revealing sides of each other that no one else saw. “Amazingly, Bakugou actually remembers.”

“You’re right.” Kyoka laughed as well. “He’s actually a decent date apparently. When he isn’t burning down restaurants.”

“…are you really okay?” Momo asked hesitantly, her hands clutching Kyoka’s shirt.

“Mmm…well, I didn’t think you’d actually forget,” Kyoka admitted, twirling the ends of Momo’s hair around a finger. It was funny how long it took them to get comfortable like this, after knowing each other in high school and then finally dating. Going to prom together, graduating, even joining the same hero squad.

And more than hurt, Kyoka just felt happy. Happy that they were still together after all this time, happy that they still loved each other. She’d seen enough relationships go sour to know what they could have been.

God, she was in love and she would never ever say any of this aloud, it was too sappy. If Kaminari could see her face right now, he’d have a field day. It was bad enough she owed him for running out here and setting everything up.

Her heart swelled and it was impossible to put this feeling into words, to make it solid, to make it concrete. To give it form and breathe life into it. Swallowing, she settled for pressing a kiss on Momo’s head. “It’s not your fault, I did try to make you forget. You plan all of our dates, and they’re perfect, but I never get a chance to do something for you.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.” Kyoka confirmed, struggling against the urge to squeeze Momo tight.

Momo remained silent for a moment, her breathing steadying. Finally, she looked up, determination in her eyes. “Next year, I won’t forget.”

Next year. Kyoka fought back the smile that threatened to take over her face at those two words. Next year. They would have so many anniversaries. Dates. Breakfasts and calls and it was a good thing it was dark, Kyoka didn’t want anyone to see the expression on her face. “It’s a date.”

#momojiro #bnha #momo yaoyozoru #jirou kyouka #momo x jirou #fanfic

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green-spear-of-causality · 4 years

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Cascú + Caster Gil Friendship Headcanons (oh yeah, I'm back in business)

It was literally hate at first sight

Cascú may be wiser than his counterparts, but there's something about Caster Gil that rubs him the wrong way...especially after seeing how his Archer counterpart acts. Yeah, no, not dealing with that if he doesn't have to

Caster Gil, meanwhile, has barely interacted with any of the Cús, but after going to the 5th Singularity with his Master he's...reluctant to even be considered the associate of someone who lives for the sole purpose of killing

And then, their Master takes them both to farm Assassin Ascension materials. It couldn't get any worse; they were sending each other casual but scathing insults which were born from their perspective of the other, and tensions kept rising

"Are you all bark and no bite?"

"That's funny, considering that you let your treasury do the work for you."

Their Master got fed up with it. Once the team was done and returned to Chaldea, they pushed the two Casters into a room and said "Talk it out. Now. You know, you two have more in common than you think." before slamming the door and locking it.

It was silent for around a minute before they started to step around the subject, Caster Gil making a mental note to get back at his Master for this while Cascú sighed and dropped onto a spare couch.

"When do you think they'll let us out?"

Caster Gil closed his eyes as he leaned against the wall, already knowing the answer. "Who knows?"

Cascú glowered at him. "You son of a bitch...you already know, don't you?"

Caster Gil kept his expression neutral as he cracked open an eye, staring at Cascú with utter disdain. "It seems your penchant for petty insults remained even as you grew older."

If looks could kill a Heroic Spirit, Caster Gil would be six feet under right now. Cascú had begun to growl, hands curled into fists at his sides as he held himself back. "Don't act like you know everything there is to know! You go around with that pompous air of yours, using those chains when you can't handle the small fry yourself. I know the truth; those chains are En-"

"You do not have the right to say that name, cur," Caster Gil hissed, both eyes open now as he pushed off the wall.

Cascú smirked, standing up even as he spat venom-filled words back at him. "I was right; you're exactly like your Archer counterpart. It seems even being a different class doesn't fix that arrogance of yours."

"I could say the same thing about you, Cú Chulainn."

The arguments escalated from there into a full-on fistfight, the two Casters tussling on the ground as they punched and kicked whatever they could

It was about 10 minutes of fighting before they stopped, backing off and sizing the other up.

Cascú was the first to speak, spitting a gob of blood onto the ground. "I gotta say...for a king, you sure know how to fight."

Caster Gil wiped his mouth. "I must say the same of you. For one who has chosen the path of a Druid, you were able to land quite a few hits in."

"I have to protect myself somehow if my Runes fail me." Cascú chuckled before straightening up, all signs of humor gone. "I'll cut to the chase. You had plenty of opportunities to use your Gate of Babylon on me. Why didn't you?"

Caster Gil seemed to ponder the answer to that question, mulling over a few replies that he would rather carry to his grave. Instead, he just looked away and sighed. "You are a mage; figure it out yourself, mongrel."

Unlike the other times he's called Cascú names, this one has no bite to it. Cascú grinned, laughter escaping him even as his wounds stung. "I figured that was why! Who knew the King of Heroes was - "

"When did I permit you to speak? Silence yourself."

Cascú walked over and sat down with his back against the wall, motioning for Caster Gil to do the same. After a moment's hesitation the King of Heroes did, making sure to keep some space between them as he let out a puff of air to relax himself.

Cascú stared up at the ceiling, his head resting against the wall. "...About E-"

"Don't." Caster Gil said sharply. Then, with a humorless smile, he added "Did you forget that I can see the future? What you are about to say...does not need to be uttered aloud. I understand, and what king would I be if I could not forgive?"

Cascú snorted. "Damn mind reader."

Caster Gil sent him an exasperated look. "It is not mind reading, you primitive mage, it's - "

"I'm sorry."

Caster Gil blinked, seeming to see Cascú for the first time. The Druid kept his gaze on the ceiling, but his eyes gave away the difficulty of expressing his apology.

Cascú continued. "I was...wrong, about you. You're not the same as the golden-armored dick who walks the halls like everything is his property. I said things that hurt, and I did it with the intention to hurt, so...I'm sorry."

Caster Gil was quiet next to him. Cascú then heard a faint hum of recognition as the other Caster looked up at the ceiling as well. "While I am not sure how to feel about you unintentionally calling me a "golden-armored dick", as you put it, I confess that I have made the same assumptions. You may be your counterparts, but at the same time you are your own individual person. I knew this, and yet it was easier to avoid the issue altogether since at the time it was a minor annoyance."

Cascú tiredly punched his shoulder, although he made sure that it didn't hurt him. "Oi, who are you callin' a minor annoyance?!"

Caster Gil gave a quiet laugh, which had a different impact compared to his loud, pride-filled ones. It was genuine, it was raw, and maybe...Cascú could actually like this guy.

"It seems that we need to start anew with each other. I am a Servant of the Caster Class, Gilgamesh: the King of Heroes."

Cascú felt his eyes slip shut as he introduced himself. "Servant Caster, Cú Chulainn at your service. I wish I...was summoned as a Lancer, though..."

He fell asleep, head tilted to the side yet not falling completely over. Caster Gil huffed in amusement at the sight, settling against the wall for a bit of shuteye himself. What a brash introduction, and yet...no other would have fitted.

Master found them in a couple of hours still asleep, leaning against each other and littered with both cuts and bruises

From then on, the two could hold normal conversations, which never ceases to surprise their Master as well as the other Servants in Chaldea

Fsn Cú one day asked his Caster counterpart, "When did you get all chummy with the King of Heroes?"

Cascú just gave him a mysterious smile. "I could say the same thing about the bowman you claim to hate so much."

Caster Gil and Cascú meet with each other at least thrice a week at night to discuss their Magecraft

Cascú will never admit it out loud, but he never ceases to be amazed by Caster Gil's Melammu Dingir

Caster Gil would rather die than admit that Cascú's Wicker Man has gotten him out of a few tight spots during a battle, and is surprisingly useful outside of fights

Cascú ends up learning how to read the symbols inscribed in Caster Gil's tome

Caster Gil actually picks up on Runecraft and can now use a few himself

The two will do all sorts of crazy experiments "For Magecraft" and if Merlin joins them then it's game over for Chaldea's sanity

(One day, Ishtar will be able to go a full week without her hair being dyed a horrendous color)

Mondays become their unofficial "Hangout Day". Better to start off the week on the right foot, right?

They end up getting into some board games, and -

"H..How...How did you pull out that Jenga piece?! There was no way to pull it out without the entire thing falling!"

Caster Gil's voice was smug. "Because I am the superior mage."

Their insults aren't gone; the venom and hostility in them, however, are

They often remind each other to go to sleep at a reasonable hour...at least, what they considered a reasonable hour

Cascú introduced night raids in the fridge to Caster Gil and, honestly, the King of Heroes became hooked

Cheese. He likes to steal cheese. Once Cascú found out, he went on to call Caster Gil "Mouse" for a couple days until Caster Gil threatened him with the business end of his axe

Sometimes, they go to a Singularity on their own for camping (it was Cascú's idea)

Caster Gil always put up a fight, but gave in once Cascú had introduced s'mores to him (he has a bit of a sweet tooth)

Actually, Cascú pulls Caster Gil to do stupid shit 99% of the time

The 1% is when Caster Gil does, and usually Chaldea comes very close to exploding once his idea of "fun" is put into place

Overall, an enemies-to-friends situation. They don't confess their deepest fears and concerns to each other, but whenever one of them has something on their mind the other is a constant presence at their side, offering wordless support.

#long post #fgo gilgamesh #caster gilgamesh #fate go #fate grand order #fate/grand order #caster cu chulainn #fgo emiya #fgo merlin #god this is long and i don't know what possessed me to write this #lancer cu chulainn #gender neutral master #tl;dr: it used to be hate but after a fistfight they're sorta bros which grows into broship and now they raid fridged at night #and whatever other tags i need to add I'll do it later #fgo cu chulainn #tw swearing

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evoedbd · 4 years

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Innocence?

Summery: How could Zhora let that be destroyed? Worse, how could she prevent it? The more she thought, the more she realised that it was already unavoidable. Zoe was right, curse it. Solis wouldn’t stop with just Zhora, not after Wyst and Zoe had dug their heels in. They’d suffer too, no matter what Solis actually said. Zhora and Zoe have a discussion the night before they go after Solis. ************** Space. It was a word to invoke thought. A distance as much as a destination. So much of nothing it became something. Something became nothing. Infinite became irrelevant within a few strides and grew with time. Outer space was infinite. The void between life. A chasm to suspend reality. Poems sung of hanging the stars in the skies. Compared their gleam to diamonds, whispered their deepest desires on a star falling from the inky blankets of space. Science spoke of the stars as echoes of what had been. To see a star, sometimes, was to see when it had already died. The brightest beauty of something past. Something out of reach. Some viewed space as a negative, as something empty. Others viewed it as something full of possibility. As something to fill until space no longer existed. The space to hang a child’s painting on the wall. Space for flowers to grow. A place for a ship to dock... euphemism intended. The list of the ways space could be filled was immense, especially to someone as creative as Zhora. For Zhora, space simply was. At the moment, it was fucking freezing. Yes, the stars were beautiful. Yes, the distance between her and her target meant she would not die that day. The space between brain and heart would keep her alive. That didn’t eliminate the literal chill just outside the hull. It didn’t dismiss the loneliness embedded in her soul. Literal or emotional, it was cold. Cold. Cold. Cold. As so many did, she used space. With engines, the infinity of space shrunk into insignificant hours between planets. With plants and weapons, she filled her walls. With the shots from her rifle, she filled the distance between herself and the enemy. With contacts in every port, she filled other spaces... at least for a time. Some longer than others. Another euphemism intended. The one space she could never fill was that of loneliness. Of emotional emptiness so stabbing it could threaten to cut. Her mind resisted well. It was of stone. Uncompromising. In control. Ahead of the game. She had to be. If she wasn’t, she would be dead. Both her and her crew would pay. That was where her heart of glass came into play. So fragile was her heart that she protected it fiercely. When it came to heart or head, she chose her head. The death of friends was merely a dent in her business and profits. The angst of her crew would pass with the storm; all she had to do was hold tightly to her beliefs. Cling to that lifeline of logic and rationality. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust her crew. She did. Truly. They were near her while she slept. They technically had unrestricted access to all her weapons, supplies and her quarters. It was very rare she locked her quarters anymore, not when Zoe could hack the security within a minute. Only her word kept them from acting out. Although, truthfully, her word didn’t always bind them. They disobeyed. Went over her head. Between her knees. Around her outstretched fingers. So long as it benefitted Zhora, no angle was too obscure for them to take. They practically lived on the phrase “Better to ask forgiveness than permission.” Something which had only gotten worse since Zoe had taken the role of Engineer. The two other women aboard the ship were trouble together. It was a good thing Zhora was practically addicted to their brand of trouble. Anyone else might have done some serious damage to the Kid or the Cutie. That thought always made Zhora’s brows feel heavier and her teeth ache, even when she didn’t adopt a snarl. The thought of losing either Wyst or Zoe was...it churned more unpleasantly in her gut than any poisoning she had ever suffered. These girls were her crew. Her family. Her loves, aside from her weapons and adrenaline. She was efficient when she showered, providing she was alone. She cleaned quickly, washed her mermaid inspired hair, dried and dressed within the space of ten minutes. As it stood, she had no intention of entertaining guests. With 200,000 credits painted across her back, she wanted to keep herself clothed and ready. Sure, luring some company may be fun, whether it be the pleasure of touch or combat, yet Zhora had more to think about than just her own entertainment. It was dressed in her typical armored pants and crop top that she stepped back into her room, only to be greeted by a familiar sight. In the dim lighting of her quarters the light of her workbench was a supernova, dragging Zhora’s eyes. There, she found herself staring at Zoe Rayner’s shadowed back. The tight body suit she wore was standard Union Colony, yet it did leave very little to the imagination. The way the suits melded to their wearers put everything on display, every curve, muscle and bone. In Zoe’s case, it did wonders for the lithe woman’s back, and her backside. Zhora watched for a few moments, almost hypnotised by the steady undulating of Zoe’s sharp shoulder blades beneath the green fabric. Every time Zoe pulled a pin into alignment or moved to grasp another tool was a shadow dance, something for Zhora to feast her eyes on. Perhaps it could delay the inevitable. Zoe kept herself organised to perfection. On her left was where she had laid out the deconstructed weapon parts apparently by size and importance. Barrels, piping extensions, firing pins. Plasma packs. Electronics. Grips. Everything was so neat that it could only be an Engineer’s layout. To her right was an array of tools. Delicate tools, each laid out on black fabric that emphasised their pristine condition. Beyond Zoe’s instant reach, different components lingered, many pieces fused together in ways Zhora was not completely sure she could ever understand. Zoe’s brain was wired so differently from any engineer Zhora had ever worked with, yet the Colony Girl was an utter genius. Her unique brain and concepts had saved Zhora’s life numerous times, as well as allowed Zoe to bend countless rules. Namely, hacking her way into Zhora’s room when the Captain refused to communicate. “What are you doing, Cutie?” Zhora called as she approached, having to bite back a victorious smirk when Zoe gave a small eeeekkk of alarm. Zoe was an absolute image. One knee raised defensively as her other foot stretched for the ground. Bare toes barely grazed the floor, given the chair was designed for Zhora’s superior height. The Engineer had some form of screwdriver raised across her chest, wielding the tool like a weapon in her alarm. Zhora couldn’t help but let her smirk grow a little at the sight of Zoe’s heaving bosom, once more silently thankful for the Union Body Suits. As usual, no curve was left to imagination, and the way Zoe had twisted her hip in preparation of an attack left more than her breasts on display. The shapely curve of her hip and rump stretched the material, which also clung to her lean stomach. The clear panels gave Zhora a view of skin, nothing indecent. “Zhora! I was just... well. After the Ghost gun, I was seeing if I could make my pistol more reliable. Incase... incase. If anything goes wrong, I want to have a backup.” Zoe hurried to explain, relaxing from her improvised martial arts form to slumping in the chair. Relaxed, Zhora could see the strain in Zoe’s arms. The metaphoric weight on the Engineer’s shoulders which seemed to be affecting her quite literally. “Zoe-“ “Aside from the programming to the Ghost gun, I was thinking of taking similar coding and programming it into the attachable -“ Zoe continued to babble, waving her hands wildly as she spun around to face her components once more. Zhora wanted to follow along, she truly did, yet she was caught up in the perky engineer’s excitement. Zoe was magnetic once she became passionate; her energy was almost like an inferno swallowing all in its path. Somehow, Zoe became infectious when she was like this. The inferno never harmed those whom it consumed. Instead, it filled Zhora with a pleasant warmth; a feeling which radiated from the centre of her chest. This passion was for HER. Zoe was so dedicated to these weapons because the Engineer wanted to save Zhora. The Captain couldn’t fathom how she had earned such loyalty, only that she strove to earn it. That she kept waiting for Zoe to run. To leave. Still, Zoe stayed, striving further and further away from her safe life and into danger. All for Zhora. “You don’t have to do this. We can find another way.” Zhora found herself cutting Zoe off mid explanation. This caused Zoe to pause. The clink of a tool hitting the bench was the only warning Zhora had before she found herself staring straight into the steely face of Zoe Rayner. Deep brown eyes shone. No, shone implied too much softness. Zoe’s eyes blazed. They were the black holes which summoned Zhora’s gaze. The hardest edges of determination stole Zhora’s voice, even as Zoe’s soft brows furrowed in unspoken frustration. There it was. A brief moment where the two halves of Zoe warred. Her kindness and patience softened the blow, yet the fiery determination and outrage was akin to a sledgehammer into Zhora’s gut. Would Zoe offer another tongue lashing, or would her patience prevail? “I know what I have signed up for. I’m not a Little Colony Girl anymore. You’ve shown me how the Galaxy works. The truth of it.” It was a very true statement, Zhora realised. When she stared at Zoe, the Captain could no longer see the meek little colony girl. She saw her Engineer, a woman who could bring the Galaxy to its knees in prayer. Zoe was the stereotype of normal colony kid. Every common aspect of her seemed crafted to perfection, causing what should have been an ordinary looking girl to gleam amidst the stars. Honey and Gold had been mixed to create the perfect shade of blonde for Zoe. Her hair hung from its messy ponytail, always vibrant in its chaos. Zhora briefly wondered how much one would pay for such a treasure. The thought was banished. She didn’t want Zoe to become ruined for something as common as credits. “This isn’t something I can undo, Zoe. So far, everything has been something we could fix if you decided you wanted out. This... I can’t protect you from. If you regret this, I can’t...” Zhora almost hated herself. For the first time, control was completely out of Zhora’s grasp. She had been so careful, introducing the Outlaw life to Zoe in situations that wouldn’t scar the young Engineer. Zhora had executed her iron grip to ensure that Zoe wasn’t hurt. Wasn’t sullied beyond repair. Now, there was nothing to shield Zoe from the darkness. Zhora couldn’t sacrifice her own body to shield the girl, nor could she manipulate the situation so that Zoe wouldn’t suffer. What would happen when Zoe pulled the trigger? Would such an act break her? The very real possibility that this would destroy everything Zoe was weighed on Zhora’s heart. She couldn’t watch those fires in Zoe’s eyes die, nor see Zoe’s gentleness fade. Not the girl who spoke to her pistol and bandaged wounds with the gentlest hands. Zhora was placing her life in Zoe’s callused palms, along with the most dangerous weapon in the known Galaxies. Was Zhora worth it? “I know, Zhora. I tried to be bothered by it, but I’m not. Solis has hurt millions of people, and will continue to do so. She won’t stop trying to hurt you. I can’t let her take away the best thing to ever happen to me, okay? If it’s a choice between taking her life or watching you die, I’ll pull the trigger every time.” “Zoe. You’re taking a life. Not just in the heat of the moment, but premeditated. It’s not just a kill, it’s an assassination. I can’t as-“ “You really don’t get it do you? I love you. Wyst loves you. You’re our friend, and our Captain. We both owe you everything, and we WANT to help you. I can’t let you die. I won’t. The galaxy isn’t always nice, and I can’t always play nice if I want to protect what I love.” Zoe cut Zhora off with her impassioned speech, her eyes appearing to burn even darker. The Engineer trembled with the ferocity of her emotions. Zhora herself froze, reconciling the power Zoe emanated with their first meeting. Oh, how times had changed. “So, yeah. You’re not asking, I am telling you... I‘m ready. I’m doing it. Deal with it.” The Engineer concluded, spinning so that she could resume her work on the parts. For a long time, they remained silent. Zoe’s powerful words echoed in Zhora’s head, leaving the Captain staggering beneath their weight. Without realising it, Zhora found her fingers teasing the bottom of Zoe’s ponytail, taking in the softness of perfectly kept hair. It was another thing that made Zoe stand out. Her hair was natural, compared to the splashes of colour Wyst put through hers and the Blue to Green wash through Zhora’s hair. Zoe didn’t seem phased or distracted by Zhora’s fidgeting. Zoe’s hands remained remarkably steady as she worked. She had magnets dancing in their fields with such ease. A little flick would see those magnets dance; something which always drew a smile from Zoe. It was such an innocent thing to watch, magnets bouncing and Zoe smiling. The little giggles she let forth before licking her lips and settling down. Pink peeped out the corner of Zoe’s mouth, pinched between delicate lips. The tip of her tongue expressed so much. When she was annoyed, it ran across her lower lip; a cat’s tail swishing. When she was on the verge of success, the tip of her tongue peeped a little further out, chasing down victory. When Zoe paused to think, she rolled her tongue over the same place of her top lip for minutes on end. These little gestures were accompanied the adorably dorky scrunch of her nose, and a pursing of her lips to the right. Her left eye closed a little more than her right, yet her work remained unaffected. How could Zhora let that be destroyed? Worse, how could she prevent it? The more she thought, the more she realised that it was already unavoidable. Zoe was right, curse it. Solis wouldn’t stop with just Zhora, not after Wyst and Zoe had dug their heels in. They’d suffer too, no matter what Solis actually said. “I like the gumption, New Girl. Keep it up and I might let you have a look at some new designs.” Zhora eventually stated, breaking from her own dark musings. The surprise she felt at herself was echoed in Zoe’s wide eyes. “I’d like that.” Zoe’s response was level, yet she clearly couldn’t force herself to stop smiling. Zhora was thankful for the casualness of her response. It startled the Captain that she had even made such an offer. It was another breech in her security. Another door Zoe had hacked her way through, seemingly effortlessly. Offering such closeness was not Zhora. It was too hard to let people get this close. It made the inevitable loss too difficult to cast aside. Zhora couldn’t afford this. With Wyst, she had sworn it would be her only exception. Zoe made a liar out of her. That damned determined, fiery little colony girl. Damn Zoe, for being an actually interesting person. Damn Zoe for making Zhora actually care. Zhora may have been putting the most dangerous weapon created in Zoe’s hands, along with her own life, yet Zhora couldn’t help feeling as if she carried the most weight of them all. The weight of Zoe’s future. The weight of Zoe’s innocence.

#lovestruck voltage #voltage lovestruck #lovestruck #starship promise #zhora leonis #zhora x mc

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