#they could’ve went so many other ways and yet they never could have gone any other | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

crybaby-bkg · 10 months

Text

sᴄᴏʀɴᴇᴅ | ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛʜɪʀᴛᴇᴇɴ (ɴsғᴡ)

Bakugou x f!reader Warnings/Tags: anxiety, NSFW, bakugou picks reader up once, penetrative sex, oral sex (f!receiving), riding, fingering, confessions Word Count: 6.9k Minors/blank/ageless blogs DNI!

Main Masterlist AO3

It had been only a week since your big blowup with Mercy at the annual hero gala. The interaction had gone viral, made national headlines, and the public was split 50/50 on the whole situation, the heroes especially. Some felt betrayed; like you were an infiltrator coming in to steal their best knowledge so that you could turn around and go back to “villainous” life. Others felt as though that this was the kind of change that needed to happen in hero society; that they needed to bring aboard any and all kinds of people, that being a hero was about acceptance and understanding.

You didn’t think Bakugou would speak much about it—he didn’t address a lot of shit surrounding him because he believed that his hero work would always do the talking for him—but he was more than vocal about everything. He posted a few videos in defense of you, his girlfriend, about how everyone needed to shut the fuck up and let you live your fucking life. He told off a few reporters and paps who questioned his integrity of being a hero when it came to accepting someone who so blatantly went against the law, but his response was always to cuss them out and sometimes even break their cameras.

In a sense, it warmed you in a way that you never really wanted yourself to feel. You never felt deserving of it much, and you really don’t now, to see the backlash that he’s gotten for supporting someone like you. A lot of heroes have been under fire for speaking out in their acceptance of you, even Number 2 hero Miruko, who made it known that she stands with you.

It was confusing, really, on how you should feel yourself. You ruined so many good hero careers by just being in their proximity, but you know you were doing a good thing. You just had to go about everything secretively because you knew that this would be the response back that you would get.

You just didn’t understand why Mercy would do that to you. Was it jealousy? Was she upset that you had pulled yourself out of this warehouse, found solace in someone you could trust wholeheartedly? Was it betrayal of leaving her, of leaving the vigilantes who became who they were in dedication to your cause of fighting back? What was it?

She hasn’t been by the warehouse, and you don’t think she’s coming back ever, now. When you had arrived a week ago, sweaty and crying and heaving, and told Vanity everything, she got this look on this face, as if in thought. She had rushed to the room that Mercy would stay in, came back with this aghast look on her face, started pulling at her hair and sobbing. She told you that Mercy had talked about cleaning out her room before, leaving this place since the morals had started “changing.” Vanity hadn’t thought to say anything to you, thought nothing of it, and now—

Now you’re exposed to the whole world by someone you thought you could’ve trusted. Who would’ve known you would’ve been betrayed by someone who went through the same things as you, over someone from a completely different world? Everyone in the warehouse was so afraid that the outside people would be your downfall, and yet they turned out to be the ones bringing you under.

It’s all so confusing and muddy and so, so fucking draining. Your mind has been racing ever since that night, trying to put the pieces together of everything. Had Mercy been working with somebody? Had she somehow gotten into contact with Eddie and convinced him to alter your dress so that she could expose you? Was this all a set up by someone higher up? Did they want you gone in such a way that it would ruin your entire being until you passed on? Did they all want you gone?

It’s too much to think about, and you find yourself sleeping in later than you usually would. The only thing you do when awake is check public opinion and barely swallow the food Vanity shoves in your mouth, before you find yourself falling into your cot again. You knew this would happen if your identity was exposed, and there’s already conversation stirring on if you’re the same invisible person that went missing all those years ago.

It’s overwhelming, even more so going through it all alone. Vanity is there, yes, but you’ve found yourself seeking the comfort of someone who holds you in a way that feels more secure than a weighted blanket. Bakugou has called you more times than you can count in this past week, but you ignore him, unready to deal with all that will come with him.

Are you safe? Where are you? Can you come home? Please? The house is too quiet without you. I bought too much tea because its habit now. Fuckin come back home.

He sends you text after text, leaves voicemail after voicemail, his tone getting more and more pleading, more desperate, more angry, frustrated. But you can’t answer him, can’t ruin his life more than you already have by leeching onto him again. You’ll just have to be alone again. It’s good for everybody, you muse over.

You’ll have to be alone, until you’re not.

“Um, somebody’s outside. For you.” Vanity says, her words choppy as she stands in your doorway. You look over your shoulder where you lay down in your cot, eyebrows scrunched up in confusion as you yawn into your palm.

“For me? Who found the warehouse?” You ask, sitting up quickly as the reality of the situation dawns on you, tiredness suddenly eviscerated. This was a safe space you carved out for yourself and others around you; how could Vanity be so calm knowing that someone is outside asking for you specifically?

She opens her mouth to answer, but a familiar call of your name makes you give pause. You look at her with wide eyes, mouth pressed tightly together, as she mirrors your look before shrugging.

“I didn’t give him the address. I have no idea how he found this place.” She answers, hands in the air in defense of herself. You don’t move from your spot when you hear another call of your name from outside.

“Fuckin’ know you’re in there, so come out before I blast this fuckin’ door down!” Bakugou yells, and you’re ripping the covers off of you with such a haste, that Vanity jumps out of your way when you go storming down the steps.

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare, shit head!” You yell back to him, racing quickly to the door. But as you get there, the barrier between you two is evident. If you let him in, then you could hurt him even more, could ruin every good thing going for him. You could be his downfall because you got your mess all over him, could pull him down. Its not like you could give him anything useful, besides your quirk. Its the only thing you’re good for, right?

So you keep the door closed, leaning heavily on the metal, your ear pressed to its coldness. You speak lowly, unsure if you really want to be heard, afraid of him whispering back, of what he might say.

“What do you want?” You ask, eyes glued to the bottom of the door where the shadows of his feet stand, restless. He huffs like a bull, and you can hear him shuffling closer to the door, mirroring your position.

“I need to talk to you.” Bakugou starts before he pauses, swallowing thickly, his voice a whisper. “I need you.” He confesses, the sincerity in his voice making you flinch back. You glance to your feet, to the shoes you brought for yourself before you got with him, tattered and raggedy and falling apart at the seams. You mirror Mercy now, think back on the pristine image you had started flaunting of yourself, now again reduced to vigilante life—nothing too valuable, nothing too flashy, nothing too identifiable.

“You were fine before without me.” You murmur, teeth clenched as you fight back the tears springing to your eyes. They burn with the unshed saltiness, and you try to blink them away but its no use. Bakugou scoffs at that though, and you can damn near see him rolling his eyes the way he always does.

“Yeah, and I was a dumbass for not having you in my life sooner.” He scoffs, and the so easy confession makes your heart squeeze tight in your chest. He says it like he’s so sure, that he knows that life is better with you, that life is nothing without you. Or maybe you’re just overselling your value to him.

“Open the door?” He inquires quietly after a few seconds, his feet shuffling again. You bite the inside of your cheek, swallowing thickly as you try to find the trust you had put in him only a few weeks ago. Why is it gone now? Why is it so hard to open up, metaphorically and literally? Why does it feel like you’re opening up the cage to your heart by letting him in one more time?

“I don’t wanna ruin your career more than I already have, Bakugou.” You tell him through gritted teeth, digging the heels of your palms into your eyes. He can hear the shakiness in your voice, his words softening as he speaks to the door.

“You haven’t ruined shit for me.” He promises you, tone so gentle, as if he cradles you in his arms, nurturing. “And don’t call me Bakugou. You know that.” He scolds you, though his voice still remains soft. You chuckle humorlessly under your breath as you rest your left side on the coldness of the door, head leaning against it, eyes unseeing.

“Is Dynamight better?” You jab, mouth pulling down in a frown, your look unknowingly matching his own outside.

“Don’t be an ass.” He chides, and it only makes you frown even harder, as you cross your arms petulantly.

“You know that’s what I know best.” You remark, voice lowered, unsure if he even heard you. He goes quiet for a few beats too long, makes you want to swing the door open just to make sure he’s still out there before slamming it back closed in his face. When your hand hovers over the door handle, does he finally speak.

“Please.” He whispers, barely audible. “Just let me in so we can talk. I have a few people that have some words for you, too.” He promises, his feet shuffling restlessly once more.

You toggle the idea around in your head, wonder how wrong everything could go if you let him in one more time. If you hadn’t before, then none of this wouldn’t have happened. You would’ve stayed the Red Medusa, would’ve stayed hidden in the shadows, picking fights with men, living in hiding and in fear of the outside world with Vanity. You would’ve stayed stagnant, been who you were forever, before someone finally had the gall to take you out of here.

But by letting Bakugou in, you got the chance to grow, even if it was in tiny ways everyday. You got the chance to work through your fears, understand that not every man is someone trying to hurt you, that you’re more than your quirk, that you’re useful even when you don’t use it. You trusted him, and he gave you everything he could, even when you didn’t ask for it, all because he wanted to see you better yourself as a person. And when the world started turning on you, he stayed the same, forevermore, sure that the person you always were and growing to better, was someone worth fighting for.

So, you swing open the door, arms crossed in front of you as you look down at his stupid big boots.

“Make it quick.” You tell him, mouth twisted this way and that. You finally glance up to his even stupider face, frowning when he only stares at you with this funny little look. He tilts his head to the side, before his eyebrows raise.

“You look like shit.” He tells you, before he grins, boyish and wide and stupid and—and you hate it so much how his own smile makes you smile. You roll your eyes at him, arms still crossed over your chest when he steps up to you, until his chest brushes against your skin, sending goosebumps down your arms. He looks down his nose at you, the lines around his eyes pulling with how he smiles at you, hands shoved in his pockets.

“I missed you.” He tells you, honest, nodding his head once to you. You look away, face burning at the way he’s drinking you in, your mind placing you back to the nights when he would look only at you.

“Yeah, cause I’m fuckin’ missable.” You snark back to him, turning up your nose when he only chuckles at your snappiness. He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds, and you feel your facade starting to crumble second by second, eyes glancing back to him repeatedly as the seconds tick on.

“What?” You snap after a while, placing your hands on your hips as you look at him with this scrunched up face that he only smiles harder at.

“You didn’t miss me?” Bakugou asks, head tilting to the side again, his hands itching to reach out and hold you and kiss you and feel you again. It’s been so long.

“It’s only been a week, get over yourself.” You scoff, rolling your eyes, ignoring how his smile drops just the tiniest bit. He reaches out, finally, hesitantly, to softly grasp at your waist, gaze intently watching you to gauge how you’ll respond. When you don’t move away from him, his hold becomes firm.

“Yeah, well its felt like a lifetime not having you with me.” He whispers, eyebrows pulling down ever so softly. His cheeks have become rosy, his bottom lip pouting out. Only now do you notice the stubble on his chin, think about the last time he’s shaved, realize that he only does it the mornings you remind him, and you haven’t spoken to him all week. You scoff, wrapping your arms around his neck as you pull him close to you, burrowing your face into his chest.

“Fuckin’ sap. Gross. Get outta here with that shit.” You bemoan, pinching at his nape when he only laughs at you, loud and hearty and ugly and obnoxious. You don’t think you’ve ever liked a sound more.

“You missed me so fuckin’ bad, yeah?” Bakugou asks in your hair, pulling away from you so he can cup your face in his big, warm palms. You groan and roll your eyes again, leading him down to you as you meet him halfway.

“Shaddup.” You whisper against his lips, pressing them to his own, something so soft and intimate and—and comfortable. You forgot how much you loved the feel of his mouth on yours, the hitch in his breath whenever you come back for another kiss and another, until your air becomes his own, and his air becomes yours. You kiss him and you kiss him and you kiss him until you’re suffocated, and only he can save you.

After you finally part from each other, you pull him fully into the warehouse, sitting him down on the communal couch after introducing him to Vanity. She was nervous looking, unused to anyone you hadn’t approved being in your space, a man especially. But she calms when she sees you sink into his side on the couch familiarly, like you always do at home with him.

“You said some people had some words for me?” You ask after a few minutes, leaning back to look at Bakugou fully. He nods at that, reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone. He types on it silently for a few seconds, makes you and Vanity look at each other in unbridled anticipation. When a minute passes, does he put the phone on speaker, the sharp ringing rattling through the empty warehouse. It goes on for entirely too long, before someone finally answers.

“Is she with you?” The person on the other line asks, makes your eyebrows screw up in unfocused recognition. You look to Bakugou for answers, and he finally shows you the caller ID.

“Yes, I’m here, Yuu.” You breathe out heavily, chest suddenly tightening, your palms getting clammy. You can feel your breath starting to shorten, looking to Bakugou again for answers, but he only rubs a soothing and warm hand up your back, pressing firmly to make you straighten. It was a technique made to help someone with anxiety, and although you never talked about yours, he always seemed to know what to do best with his hands when you were getting worked up.

“Good. There are a few things we need to discuss.” He tells you, straight to the point, doesn’t even let you get a word in before he starts again. “First and foremost, I want to apologize about what happened to you last week at the gala. But, I also want to apologize for even putting you in the position of having to hide your identity in the first place.” You sink into the couch a little at the weight of his words, exhaling deeply as you straighten your legs, eyes focused intently on the phone Bakugou holds.

“It was unfair of me to continue to hold you in secrecy, because I wasn’t sure how the world would handle you as an up and coming hero. But, you’ve hidden enough, haven’t you?” Yuu asks, his voice lowering as if sharing a secret with you. You nod slowly, before realizing that he can’t see you.

“Yeah,” you whisper back, throat closing in on you. You’ve always been hidden, been invisible to the world. Before you were kidnapped, while you were experiencing the worst hell for three years, and then again after you escaped. You were so tired of having to hide—it was exhausting.

“I’ve talked to more of my Hero Commission buddies about you.” Yuu says after a few beats of silence, and it makes you choke out a laugh as you hug your knees to your chest.

“That sounds terrifying.” You admit, to which Bakugou kind of nods in understanding at that.

“It was, knowing that my job could’ve been on the line for not detailing your entire history to them when introducing you as a new hero.” He confesses, pausing briefly before his lips smack together as he begins speaking again.

“But, we all reviewed the footage of you in various battles, both by yourself and with Dynamight, and we believe that you would fit best as a hero, independent of her past and not hidden. How does that sound?” Yuu asks you, and for a second, the world stops around you.

They…they still want you? Entirely? They don’t want just your quirk, or just what you can offer to society? The Hero Commission wants to bring you fully on board, despite knowing your past, your violence toward those who have done wrong? They want you, unhidden and open and free and—and you?

“Are you serious?” You whisper, blinking back an onslaught of tears. Bakugou rubs your back, and you look across the coffee table over to Vanity on the other couch. Her mouth is dropped open, her eye wide as she stares at you, unsure of how you’ll answer, of what they’re really offering.

“As can be.” Yuu states confidently, and you can practically see him nodding his head to you. “You had a lot of heroes vouching for you, you know that? All said you were a good person, and that your cause of being a vigilante wasn’t for naught.”

You think back on the heroes you got to know in this seemingly short course of time, how many had known of your story and how many were unaware. How they still welcomed you with open arms and treated you so kindly, even if you would hiss at them like some feral cat whenever they got too close. The vouched for you? You couldn’t believe it, the overwhelming presence you somehow had gathered within these people, enough to make them want to fight for you, see you, have you amongst them.

“We believe that you should take that same courageous outlook on life and put it somewhere with structure, to keep you and the others around you safe.” Yuu finishes, and you all sit there in silence as you take everything he said in. You perk up though, when a question arises, suddenly sinking back into yourself, into Bakugou’s flank.

“What about my identity?” You whisper, picking at your bottom lip as you stare unseeingly at the ground in front of you. “Will I have to reveal…everything?” Your words make your stomach sink at the thought. People were speculating who you really were, but no one had gotten it right just yet. You knew you should control the narrative before it was spun uncontrollably, but that meant being vulnerable with not just Bakugou or Vanity, but the entirety of Japan.

You weren’t sure if you were ready for that yet.

“That would be the goal, yes. Only for the people to trust you.” Yuu states, his words making your heart feel as though it may burst out of your chest in anxiety. “But, Miruko said she would be willing to step forward and speak alongside with you, if that made you more comfortable.”

In a sense, it does. Your “case” was never broadcasted to the world, and you later found out that that was because she had killed those men. Heroes weren’t technically supposed to kill villains, but those men had been high profile Yakuza members (and the boss of the clan) wreaking havoc for years. It was justified, but definitely nothing to brag about on the news. Having Miruko there willing to speak the truth about the entirety of the situation was calming, but didn’t completely settle your nerves.

“I’ll think about it.” You say after a moment or two has passed. Yuu makes a noise of acknowledgement from the back of his throat, Bakugou and Vanity staring at you intently.

“Get back to me as soon as you find an answer within yourself. I hope to hear from you.” He says before quickly hanging up. The air in the room is heavy, all of you sitting tensely as his words finally dawn on you.

“Wow.” Vanity starts with a huff laugh. “My girl’s working her way up to become a full hero, uncovered. Never thought I’d see the day.” She says, although her words sound bittersweet when they spill from her lips. You look at her forlornly, smile barely evident on your face.

“Me neither. It’s a bittersweet feeling, really.” You mutter, reaching across the coffee table to hold her hands, squeezing her rough palms within your own. “Who else am I gonna fight beside in the street? Him?” You hook your thumb over your shoulder as you make a face of disgust, both of you laughing when Bakugou pinches you softly on your hip.

“Oi,” he frowns at you, but it doesn’t stay long, not when his eyes are captured by the sight you make in front of him. Looking over your shoulder, grinning, vulnerable. You’re not that angry and terrified person you used to be when he first met you, but he thinks he’s loved you since then, anyway.

…

You return home with Bakugou that night, after packing up the last of your belongings you still kept hidden away at the warehouse. He holds your hand the entire drive there, afraid that if he lets go, then you might disappear right in front of him again.

The walk up is quiet, but there’s a certain thickness that lies heavy between the two of you. He couldn’t keep his hands to himself in the elevator ride up, grasping your hips and waist as he kissed every inch of your skin that was visible. As you close the heavy front door behind you both, something changes, makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand straight up as you look at him from over your shoulder.

He’s taking off his jacket, and helps you out of yours. Does the same with his shoes, your shoes, until you’re standing in front of each other, gazing at the others expression. He looks like he wants something, like he wants to pull and hold and grasp, but he’s afraid that his grip may be too tight. That he might hurt you, break you, shatter you right then and there.

So you make the first move, pulling him into you with a quickness that makes him gasp, a sound you rarely hear from the hero. He’s trained so well, doesn’t surprise easy, and yet here he is; gasping again and again into your mouth with every nip at his lip, every lick of your tongue against his. You moan into his mouth, wrapping your arms around his neck. Its your turn to gasp when he suddenly picks you up, wrapping strong hands easily under your thighs as he instantly begins walking.

He stumbles this way and that, pausing every few steps to push you against the wall, pin you between his stiffening body, his prodding tongue into your mouth. Bakugou steps back from the wall, finally pulling away from your lips to go in the direction of his room, stumbles again when you latch your mouth to his neck. His eyes flutter at the bite you imprint into his skin, falling on the bed, barely catching himself upright on his palms beside your head.

You both look at each other now, fully. His lips are kiss-swollen and pinker than before, his cheeks rosy and his hair mused from you running your fingers through it. You’re sure you’re in no better condition, with the way you pant and lick your lips, eyes darting down to the heavy weight that rests against your leg.

“How far do you wanna go?” Bakugou asks you, breathy, licking at your darting tongue quickly. You reach up to push his bangs back from his eyes, heart suddenly hammering in your chest as you think about it.

Are you really ready for this? Your body is aching for it, has been since before you wanted to fully admit the truth, but—this was a big step. You haven’t slept with someone in ages, but you know that Bakugou would never hurt you, would listen to your every whim, cry, command, and complaint without hesitation. So, with a gulp, you cup his scarred cheek in hand, whisper,

“All the way.” You confess, pulling him down for another kiss when he moans at your words.

“Fuck,” he mutters, reaching a hand down to adjust himself in his pants. “Ya sure? I can always stop at anytime if—”

“I’m sure.” You interject with a nod, following his hand to cup him through his pants. That earns you a sharp gasp, his elbows shaking with the weight of keeping himself upright on top of you. His head hangs low and you can’t see his face for a moment before he lifts up again, a fierce look in his eye that sends shivers down your spine.

“Is it okay if I eat you out first?” Katsuki asks quietly, his voice holding a certain roughness to it that makes your thighs clamp together in shock. “I’ve been wanting to for ages now.”

You lay there for a second, suddenly feeling lightheaded at his question. You swallow a few times, looking at him unblinking, as he licks his lips absentmindedly.

“Uhh, I don’t know.” You spit out after too long of a moment has passed. Katsuki’s eyebrows go up in surprise, a chuckle forced out of him as he cocks his head to the side in question.

“You don’t know?” He repeats before kissing your eyelids gently. “I don’t have to if you’re not comfortable, or don’t like it, or whatever, but—”

“I’ve never been eaten out before.” You confess in a hurry, swallowing nervously when his entire body goes rigid. He blinks at you a couple of times before he sits back on his knees, making you raise up on your elbows, frowning.

“Nobody’s ever put their mouth on your pussy before? Seriously?” Katsuki asks, crude, makes you groan and cover your face as you fall back flat on the bed.

“Stop being so lewd and just,” you swallow again, voice falling quiet as you peek at him between your hands, legs spreading just slightly around him. “Just do it already.” You give him the permission to, letting him pull your hands away as he hovers over you with the kindest look you think you’ve ever seen him wear.

“Tell me if you wanna stop, okay?” He tells you, kissing you once, twice, when you give him an affirmative hum. You help him remove your pants, pulling your own shirt over your head, and his too until you’re only in your underwear, and he’s in his sweatpants.

Katsuki helps you scoot up his bed until your head rests in his pillows, his scent suddenly wafting around you. It makes your head feel fuzzy and heady, especially when you stare between your legs that rest on his shoulders, and the look he gives you to ask for permission.

You nod once, already biting at your lip when Katsuki slowly slides your underwear down your legs. He’s seen you before down there, briefly, just a few times, but never this close. Never with his breath wafting over your sensitive hole, never with his eyes drinking in every detail that makes you up, never with his mouth suddenly parting your lips with a thick tongue.

You gasp at that, hands suddenly grasping for purchase on his throw pillows, his hair, grip tight already. You can feel more than hear Katsuki chuckle at that, leaning back to admire the way you twitch when his thumbs pull your lips apart to expose your hole to his prying eyes.

“So sensitive,” he whispers when your clit twitches at his breath tickling it, laughing crudely when you pull at his hair. “Sorry, sorry.” He says, full of shit, because he’s back to licking softly all around you until you twist in his sheets. He hasn’t even done much, and you’re already panting, already clamping your thighs around his head.

In past experiences, you never enjoyed the act of sex much. It was always about your partner, about their pleasure, about getting it done as quick as possible. No one ever took their time with you, and now, it almost feels torturous with the slow licking from clit to taint that Katsuki bestows upon you.

He sucks your twitching nub into his mouth, tongue rolling against the small bundle of nerves, makes you cry out in surprise. He holds your thighs to his ears, has given up on trying to pry them apart, finds solace in the earmuffs you make for him. Your cries for him are muted, but he figures he can just make you a little louder to hear everything better.

Katsuki finds your hole again with his tongue, dipping into the softness of you, slurping back the juices that leak out onto his awaiting muscle. He spits it back onto you, crude and nasty, and you can feel his smile when your volume gets a little louder.

“Can I put a finger in?” He asks you, rests his messy cheek against your thigh when he comes up for air. You moan at the sight of him; hair tussled from your pulling, lips shining with the remnants of you, mouth pulled into a smile at the fucked out look plastered on your pretty face.

“Yeah,” you nod quickly, feeling like a bobblehead from the desperation that oozes out of you. Katsuki kisses the inside of your thigh in thanks to that, before he’s diving back down to kiss your clit before sucking it back into his mouth. Your eyes clench shut when rubs the pad of his finger over your hole, has zero resistance from pushing in from how wet you’ve gotten. You clench around him though, unused to the penetration, mouth pouting when he slides the entirety of his finger inside the same time he flicks his tongue on the tip of your clit.

He works you like a musician would a beloved instrument, like a painter would a brush. Katsuki almost feels familiar to your body, like he’s been here time and time beforehand, like he knows you best without you ever having to tell him.

After a minute or so, does he work his second finger in. This one gives a little resistance, and you pull at his hair when you whine. But he soothes you, as he always does, holding his fingers still, waiting for you to relax around him as he peppers you in kisses and licks and bites. He attaches his mouth to your clit and sucks, eyes falling shut at the sensation of the small bud twitching on his tongue. He lathes over it again and again until he feels you loosen, and only then does he start to crook his fingers inside of you.

It’s an odd sensation, really, being prepped for sex in such a way that the word intimacy doesn’t even begin to describe it. It makes tears spring to your eyes as your hips start moving on their own, grinding down on his fingers as he encourages you with a moan against your clit.

“There we go, ride my tongue, baby.” Katsuki moans, and you gasp at that, at the pet name he’s given you. He’s never called you anything besides your name, because of your usual dislike of the terms. But hearing them spill from his lips while they’re lathering all over your cunt is something euphoria doesn’t even begin to touch.

“Think I’m gonna cum,” you mumble, eyes clenched shut before you force them open to look between your legs. Katsuki has this damn near pornographic look on his face; his eyes have fallen so low, his mouth agape as his tongue swipes over your aching clit, his lips swollen, bottom half of his face messy, hair gripped tight between your fist.

“Lemme feel it, lemme taste it.” He goads you, grinning when your mouth drops open, eyebrows screwing up as you throw your head back. With only another crook of his fingers inside of you and suck of your clit, do you explode in his mouth, back arching off of the bed. Your toes curl in the air, thighs clamping even tighter around Bakugou’s head, a cry ripping out of your throat as you cum with such an intensity, that your vision blanks for a moment.

When you come down, its to the sound of Katsuki sucking his own fingers clean, and you think that the sight may actually kill you. You plop back down onto his pillows, and he laughs at you, pressing another kiss to your mound before he crawls up your body. He kisses you, and you feel yourself clench at your own taste ripe on his tongue, moaning into his mouth as you reach down to palm him through his pants. But Katsuki catches your hand, holds it in his own, smiling when you pull back with a frown.

“Don’t you want me to…?” Your words go unsaid as you look between his legs, at the boner that lays heavily against the constraints of his pants. Katsuki shakes his head at you though, kissing you again, mumbling against your mouth,

“Nah, tonight’s all about you. Lemme show you just how much I missed you.” He whispers. You two fall entangled into the sheets, sharing kisses and quiet laughs as you both fully undress. He pinches your hip when you squeeze at his chest and you moan when he licks at yours. You lay facing each other, his cock poking at your bellybutton as you look between the both of you.

Katsuki gazes at you from under his lashes, biting at his bottom lip as he rests a hand on your side. He goes to turn you to lay you flat on your back, but you stop him with a firm hand on his chest. He pauses, eyes suddenly getting serious, but you kiss him quiet before he can worry.

“Let me be in control,” you whisper against his mouth, pulling back to gauge his reaction. Afraid that he may pull away, might reject you, demand that he stay in control. But Katsuki only smiles easily, pulling you in once more for a kiss.

“Anything for you, baby.” He promises, sounds so sincere that it makes a few things throb. Without another word, Katsuki lets you roll him over until he rests his head in the pillows, handing you the condom he plucks out from his nightstand.

“This better be a new, unused pack.” You mutter, ripping the condom open. He laughs at that, holding your hips firm as you sit on top of him. His cock is warm and rigid when you hold it in your hands, slowly rolling the condom on with such precision, that his heart swells.

“Got ‘em when we first started doing…stuff together.” Katsuki confesses, biting at his lip when you wrap your hand around his shaft. His eyes follow your movements, how you raise on your knees above him, take in a shaky breath as you look down your nose at him.

“Expecting to get some?” You ask softly, parting your lips with your free hand as you grip him firmly in the other. Katsuki chokes at that, nails digging into your skin as he holds you tightly.

“I was hopeful,” he confesses, as a groan rips through his clenched teeth when you slowly start to sink down onto his cock. You suck in a shaky breath, eyes fluttering closed at the slight sting that eats away at you. He’s so fuckin’ thick, you feel like you’re being split open. But you lean over him, mouth falling open in a moan as you work your way up and down slowly, tongue flicking out to tease at his bottom lip.

“Fuckin’ pervert.” You snarl at him playfully, sudden smile gone when his hips buck ever so slightly at your words. “Never woulda thought degradation would be your thing.” You mumble, gazing between your legs to see that you’re more than halfway down. Gods, it feels like its never ending, but the pleasure is so min numbingly delicious, you can’t help but chase after the fullness.

“Anything you do suddenly becomes my thing,” Katsuki confesses, rubbing a soothing hand when you start to quiver the closer you get to dropping all the way down. And when you do—you think you finally understand what bliss truly feels like.

He guides you as you ride him, but he gives you full control the entire time. Holds you sturdy without controlling the pace, accepts every kiss you press to his mouth, moans lewdly whenever you clench around him. He palms your tits and rubs his thumb over your nipples, cock twitching every time you throw your head back in pleasure.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” you moan, eyes clenched shut as you bury your face into the crook of his neck. Katsuki holds you tight to him, arms wrapping around you in a bear hug as he resists the urge to start snapping his hips up into you. You wanted control and he would let you have every second of it that you desired.

Your pace is slow, not torturous, but enough to leave the aching build of climax just a touch away. You turn your head to capture his lips in a kiss, the softest one yet, and he holds you so close to him, you think you’ve fused into one.

You cum first, without surprise, when his fingers find your clit pressed between your bodies. His thick fingertips are rough and rub against you just right, send you soaring over the edge as you cling to him. You cry out softly, clenching around him so tight that he fills the condom quicker than he ever expected to.

You both lay there for a while, holding each other, trying to gather your breaths as you take everything in. You just had sex—good sex, with Number Four hero Dynamight, your boyfriend. If you would’ve told this to yourself a year ago, you wouldn’t have believed it. But now, it all makes sense; everything falls into place perfectly.

“I love you.” You confess when you think he may have fallen asleep, face tucked into the crook of his shoulder. But Katsuki tenses at that, in surprise, before he relaxes. He guides your face gently from his skin, so that you can take in the flushed look on his face, and he can take in the contented one of yours.

“I love you.” He repeats, voice soft, carmine eyes bouncing all over your face before they meet your gaze. You take him in for another second before you kiss him again and again and again and think—this feels right. Nothing has ever felt more right than this.

chapter fourteen (final chapter)

please do not repost or rec on tik tok!

tag list: @endlessfreaky @iamaconfusedpan @blueshome

#crybaby.bkg.scorned #—new treat in the streets! 🍫

57 notes · View notes

the-greatest-magic-of-all · 10 months

Text

Frightful Snow & Delightful Fire

○ fandom: fantasy high

○ main pairing: fabriz (fabian x riz)

○ characters: fabian | riz

○ genre/warnings: fluff and a bit of hurt/comfort

○ word count: 7,454

→ summary: Lost in a blizzard and separated from the rest of the party, Fabian does his best to keep Riz safe while trudging through snowbanks until he happens upon a lonely cottage...

○ note: y'all this was supposed to be short. I hope you enjoy it though!

White.

That’s all Fabian could see.

For miles and miles, all around, as he trudged through banks of snow across the mountainside despite the fall of night. In his mind, thoughts raced about, weaving in and out of the forefront of it like waves lapping at a shore.

Most were complaints and grievances over the chill seeping into his bones. The pieces of snow sneaked into his boots when one slipped deeper than expected into the heaps of snow. There was one thought that never left, though. That he kept repeating endlessly, like a broken record.

A prayer.

One to any deity that would listen.

To Cassandra.

To Helio or Sol.

Anyone.

A desperate plea for a sign, no matter how slight, that he was heading the right way.

He’d been sure of it back when he and Riz had first escaped the abyssal cultists’ sanctum. Stumbling out of a secret passage and into the harsh cold of an unforeseen blizzard, they’d only had seconds to decide before they either froze or got caught.

As thunderous, frosty winds buffeted their bodies and bellowed in their ears, they bickered about their next move. Seeing as splitting up hadn’t been the Bad Kids’ plan going in. But, then again, when had any of their plans ever gone off without a hitch? At least they’d had enough shrewdness to set a rendezvous point at The Last Boulder Inn in the Dwarven village they’d set out from last.

“We didn’t account for not being able to get to the rendezvous point, did we?” Riz yelled over the wind, clutching the artifact they’d stolen (An ancient tome of some kind, don’t ask him.) close to his chest, shielding it from the blizzard the best he could.

Faint shouts began to stir from the tunnel behind them, interrupting any quip Fabian could’ve shot back. Barkings of orders in Infernal—no, he’s heard The Hangman and Gorthalax speak it too many times—in Abyssal. And they were growing louder and louder despite the wind doing its best to drown them out. The cultists. Both of their eyes widened as they looked at the closed secret door, back at each other, and then all around.

Fabian soon realized that even at his height he couldn’t find any substantial path. So, he turned to Riz and said, “Get on my shoulders, see if you can spot a path or a-a cave or, or, or something!”

Passing off the tome to him, Riz scaled Fabian with practiced ease. Only thrown off slightly by the force of the winds, but he got up there nonetheless. The cultists’ cries of anger grew in volume in the panicked yet empty moments of searching.

“There!” Riz shouted from above, sticking out a gloved hand toward something Fabian couldn’t see. “There’s a cabin about a mile, maybe two away from here. We can make it. I know we can.”

“Well, you’re not making it anywhere. Take this,” Fabian shoved the tome back into Riz’s arms before he dropped to one knee. Slinging his backpack off of his shoulders. Zipping it open, he presented the open compartment to Riz. “And get in.”

Riz’s eyes went wide. “But—”

“In this sort of weather, the safest place for you and that book to be is in my backpack.” He said, desperation tinging what authority he tried to have in this moment. “The Ball, your tiny legs aren’t going to be able to keep up with me. Not in snow this deep and gales this strong. Get. In.”

Riz stared at the bag with a scowl before he let out a hiss and shoved his briefcase in the bag before getting in himself. “You’re heading due east, okay? Due. East. With all the ridges and slopes, it’s gonna feel like you’re going the wrong way but I promise you aren’t.” And a second before Fabian zipped it up after him, Riz poked his head out and said, “Oh, and remember—”

“Three pats on my bag if I’m going to open it because if I don’t you’ll shoot me.”

Riz grinned wide, his eyes sparkling. “Best Friends.”

“That’s quite enough out of you.” With a pointed zip of his bag, Fabian hauled his backpack onto his shoulders. Taking a deep breath, he took a glance at Riz’s compass, due northeast, before setting off.

That must’ve been an hour ago.

Maybe longer.

He’d lost sensation in his nose, ears, and cheeks about fifteen minutes in, which was a blessing in some ways. No longer having to endure how the blizzard’s winds whipped and lashed against them. Such strong gusts that a stray thought settled in the back of Fabian’s mind of clothes torn by icy currents and boots rent by frozen snow.

About twenty minutes in, his fingers had gone numb as well, even with his gloved hands. More of a bane than the others, he’d been shaking so badly that, at some point, he’d dropped Riz’s compass. But he couldn’t stop to look for it. He couldn’t stop at all. Because if he did, he wouldn’t start again and if he didn’t start moving again…

Well, best not to think too hard about it. All he had to do was keep moving in the direction Riz had told him to. He’d said there was a cabin, so there must be a cabin. Fabian just has to make it there.

So, he kept trudging. One step after another. Through the mountainside, half frozen, enduring Constitution saving throw after saving throw. Making each one by the skin of his teeth. He crossed his fingers that Riz was as successful as he, though he didn’t know many Rogues with high Constitution scores.

At that thought, he faltered in his strenuous stride. In the crook of two hills whose sides rose well above his head, blocking his vision from anything but the bright grey sky. He stopped. Yelling was a pointless thing to do in a blizzard as severe as this one turned out to be, but Fabian had no other choice. He wouldn’t risk slinging his bag off of his shoulder and opening it up.

One, because he’s semi-convinced that his backpack has frozen to his thick jacket and he couldn’t take it off even if he wanted to. And two, exposing Riz to this cold would certainly finish him off if the failed saving throws hadn’t.

Yelling it was then.

“The Ball?”

No response. He didn’t yell as loud as he could’ve. So, Fabian tried again.

“The Ball!”

The howling wind swirling around him seemed oh so much fiercer and vociferous in the absence of a response. Even faster than it had been beating already, Fabian’s heart picked up speed.

“Riz!” Fabian shouted behind him, his voice shaking. “Riz, talk to me!”

A beat of silence, of stillness. Not that of a calming lake or the morning after winter’s first snow but the silence and stillness of a long-dead corpse. Another beat. And another. It’s only when fear spiked in Fabian’s heart and he jolted his backpack around, trying to get it off, that Riz’s voice reached his ears. Barely making it over the wind.

“I’m fine,” Came Riz’s voice, muffled and weak. Fabian could almost cry at the sound of it. “Just keep going, I’m… fine. We’re almost there, right?”

“Of course, we are.” He lied, his proud voice ringing out into the night because what else could he have said? ‘No, he’s starting to think he’s been walking in circles and that they’re going to freeze to death in the Mountains of Chaos’. Don’t be stupid. “I can see the cottage now. We’ll be out of the cold in no time at all.”

“Told ya. K-knew you could do it.”

Oh.

An epiphany struck him like a well-packed snowball to the face.

He’d thought that if he stopped in all this frost and fury he’d never get himself moving again. But after that, how could he have ever not started moving again?

Gazing up the snowy hill before him, the steepest he’d encountered yet, he resettled Riz on his back, took a deep breath of sharp, frigid air, and set off once more.

Reinvigorated by Riz’s conviction in him, Fabian began climbing up the side of the icy hill. He caught himself several times, seconds before he slipped and fell. Wondering if this is what Kristen meant about all that “As Above, So Below” Cleric business. How her faith, even as a single mortal, was enough to revitalize an entire deity. Simply because she wholeheartedly, unshakably believed in them.

Cresting the hill’s peak, he found not only a plateauing terrain and a sparse grove of evergreens but also a dark, ramshackle, old cottage. As he took in the sight of a sanctuary, Fabian knew he would never underestimate the power of belief. Or perhaps he’d never underestimate the power of Riz Gukgak.

It took three good shoves to burst through the cottage’s frozen door and another to get to shut it again.

Slumped with his shoulder still pressed to the door, Fabian’s laboured pants echoed out in the quiet of the stone cottage. The howls and groans of the blizzard still rang in his ears despite how muted they sounded now. As he inhaled and exhaled ever-shaky breaths, his eyes scanned the place.

Dusty.

Everything in the cottage was covered in a thick layer of dust and dirt. In the center of the wall to his left was a sizable fireplace that looked like it hadn’t been lit in forever. A frightful-looking bed sat in the far corner. Made up of only a thin mattress, a threadbare blanket and a pillow. Which only left the tiny kitchen beside him on his right that spiders had long since colonized. Oh, and a crotchety chair that sat lonely at a rickety table next to it.

Whoever had lived here, had lived alone. But they didn’t anymore, live here that is. Not for many months, probably.

No pissed-off homeowners to run into then. A small blessing.

Alright. No rest for the wicked.

Pushing off of the door with a wince at his aching muscles, Fabian stalked toward the center of the cottage near the fireplace. Beginning the process of detaching his backpack from his back. As gently as he could, he placed his bag down next to the unlit hearth and collapsed into a heap beside it.

Giving the side of the bag the three pats required to signal safety to Riz, he buried his numb face in his numb hands and groaned.

“Ugh, remind me to never go mountaineering again, The Ball. Never again. I swear I had a more pleasurable time trekking through a literal Nightmare Forest than I just did through all that fucking snow. This book better be worth it or I solemnly swear to throw Adaine and her high Arcana checks off the nearest cliff. You hear me, The Ball! Off a very steep, very snowy cliff! Like to see her Portents save her from that. Ha-ha!”

The beat of silence that came after Fabian’s little rant stretched on for far longer than he thought it would. The acute quiet, well, disquieted him. Made his stomach churn and chest tighten. He had good reason to be anxious right now. They’d almost frozen to death in a blizzard and got separated from their friends. Oh, if the rest of the Bad Kids were here, perhaps this wouldn’t feel so bad.

“Do you think she and the others made it out alright? I mean, I have no doubt that Gorgug had those weird cultists handled with his axe and Kristen has all her anti-evil Cleric spells but… Adaine or Fig would’ve messaged one of us if something went really wrong, right? Of course. Of course, they would’ve. So if they haven’t that means they’re fine. Hopefully, all this blizzard shit will let up in the morning and we’ll all make it to that inn in one piece. If not…well, if not…”

Another beat of silence.

“The Ball? Isn’t this where you chime in with one of your numerous and lengthy backup plans?”

Fabian turned around and peered at his now unsettlingly still backpack. He called out again, “Riz?”

Crawling over to it, already flinching away just in case a stray bullet flew out, he hesitantly zipped his backpack open.

Fabian gasped.

Riz’s body trembled as his tail curled up around the tome. His eyes were closed tight while one hand gripped his gun, his fingers having long turned blue. Almost every inch of his visible soft green skin was tinged an icy blue, including his tightly wound tail. He’d failed nearly every Constitution saving throw, taking on exhaustion fivefold.

Worse yet, he’s still making them.

One more failure and he’d—

Fabian bolted to his feet, his heart racing once more.

How should he fix this? What could he do? He wasn’t a high enough level Bard yet to be able to cast Greater Restoration and even if he was, he could only feasibly remove a single level of exhaustion. If he couldn’t remove them… then the only thing to do was prevent Riz from getting his sixth and final level.

Steeling himself with a breath and a look at a freezing Riz, who always believed in him so fiercely, Fabian was prepared to do anything and everything to save him.

Quicker than he thought he could with sensationless fingers, he unbuttoned and ripped off his thick, fur jacket. Uncovering his battle sheet. Thanks to the carefully wrapped Elven silk, heated by his inner fire elemental, he’d been making all those Con saving throws with advantage. Riz needed it much more than he did right now.

Ignoring how the chill of the cottage raised goosebumps on his exposed arms and caused shivers down his spine, Fabian got to work. Scooping Riz out of the backpack and into his arms, he felt like a block of ice. And once Fabian pulled him closer, the soft chattering of teeth reached his ears. He didn’t have much time till the next saving throw arrived.

A precious moment or two was spent prying the thick tome and arquebus out of Riz’s hands. Fabian’s voice softened to a croon as he did, “Come on, Riz. I promise nothing bad will happen to them if you let go. Everything’s okay. You’re safe.”

Eventually, thankfully, Riz’s grip loosened enough to slip the two items out of it. Setting them aside, Fabian got to work unsheathing his Sword of Shadows and swathing Riz in his battle sheet. The motions had a strange familiarity to them.

Bringing him back to a moment of relief within a lengthy battle as rain poured down on them and he held an unconscious Riz in his arms. Just as he’s doing now. His face had been more relaxed back then, instead being tensed and scrunched up in distress. Though, as he finished wrapping him up, Riz’s furrowed eyebrows and curled lips eased as the sheet’s warmth sank into him.

Fabian had almost lost him that day too. Only time would tell if they’d be as fortunate as they were that day to cheat death once more. But, watching Riz sigh and nuzzle into the fabric of the sheet, his boyish charm making a heartening return to his face, their chances looked promising.

Now that he had a warming Riz in his arms, Fabian almost placed him back on the ground. Ready to get to work on a fire when a stray memory of one of Sandra Lynn’s survival lectures stopped him. Something about never sleeping on cold, bare ground. Glancing down at the grungy, creaky floorboards, his nose wrinkled. Yeah, no, he wouldn’t want to rest his sheet down there, let alone Riz.

With a bit of maneuvering, Fabian managed to keep Riz in his arms as he nudged their stuff away from the front of the fireplace and he dragged the ragged mattress from the bed to place it there instead. Giving the old thing a couple of hits to get the dust off of them. He only succeeded in sending whatever foul substance blanketing it into the air.

One coughing fit later, he laid Riz down on the mattress, resting his head on the worn pillow and covering him in the blanket. Which in practice seemed to be just the suggestion of one and provided almost no actual warmth.

Well, it’s the thought that counts.

Nodding once at the sight, he rose to his feet and set out to start a fire in the hearth. Or rather, convince his inner fire elemental to light some logs ablaze. Whatever you wanted to call it, it’s about to get real warm in here real quick. Rubbing his hands together with a tiny smirk, he glanced around the fireplace for logs to burn.

Strange.

There don’t appear to be any logs stacked near the fireplace’s rack. None under the bed. Or resting against the sides of the web-bedecked kitchen counters.

There don’t seem to be any logs… anywhere in the cottage.

Right, nobody has lived here for a long time.

No person. No logs. No fire.

Cool, cool, cool.

That’s fine.

Fabian just needs to… to…

To…

By the Seven Winds and Jane Wren’s blade, this is hopeless.

Look, Fabian has never ever claimed to be the Smart Bad Kid. Adaine and The Ball had that on lock! Not the wisest either, Kristen and, surprisingly, Gorgug could take that medal. And hell! Fig had enough wit and cleverness to sink a galleon.

Figuring stuff out, remembering and recalling information, none of that was Fabian’s job. His job was to deal stupid amounts of damage, prance about with his sheet dealing out bardics and imposing disadvantage when needed, and, finally, to look hot.

That’s about it.

His Intelligence and Wisdom checks have rarely gone well and even when they did, even when he oh so desperately wanted to be the smart one, he could never beat out his friends’ rolls. And, ultimately, he’s fine with it because that’s not his job.

But right now, it is.

And worse, he needs to be good at it.

So, he dug the heels of his palms into his eyes and tried to come up with a solution for his crisis.

There’s no firewood in the cottage. He needs to find some or else Riz will freeze to death. Where does one get firewood? If they were back in Solace, he’d assume that there was a hardware store, one that the Thistlesprings surely patronaged, that sold the stuff. But they’re deep in the Mountains of Chaos and the closest town is too far away to go just for firewood. The previous owner must’ve gotten it themself, which means that… that…

Wait.

A shed!

When he had booked it over to the cottage, he hadn’t paid it any mind, but there had been another structure attached to it. Surely, if the previous owner had to have cut down the trees themself, they would have needed somewhere to put all that lumber! Yes, yes, that’s it!

Throwing on his thick coat and his gloves, he checked on Riz one last time before venturing back into the blizzard. He wasn’t quite the ice block he’d been before, but he was still much too cold for his liking. Ruffling Riz’s wild mane of waves and tucking him a little tighter in the sheet, Fabian went to search for firewood.

As he stepped out, all at once, every ounce of cold he’d shaken off once he stumbled into the cottage returned. Tenfold even, now that he didn’t have his battle sheet to keep him warm. It was like walking straight into a brick wall of frost and harsh winds. None of that discouraged him, though.

Raising a hand to block what little he could of the storm from his face, he trudged through the compounding snow. A gloved hand followed the rough stone exterior walls around the length of the cottage. Until he turned the corner and saw it. The shed wasn’t that big, which is likely why he discredited it at first glance, but it was plenty big enough to hold lumber.

Like the cottage’s front door, it took a few good jerks to yank one of the shed’s double doors open and shut, but only halfway. It would have to do, he wasn’t planning on staying long. Wrapping his arms around himself to preserve what little warmth he had left, Fabian hummed an old sea shanty as he did a once-over of the shed.

Good news: Amongst the lingering dirt and dust, sat bags of kindling and heaps of hefty logs were stacked on a sturdy, metal rack. More than enough for the night they’d be spending here.

Bad news: None of the logs lined up along the wall had been chopped small enough to fit in the fireplace. Fabian didn’t know a lot about survival tactics but all the logs he’d ever seen used in fireplaces were chopped into quarters or eighths. Not one big log.

Promising news: There’s a perfectly good axe nearby to chop those logs into the smaller pieces he needed.

Horrifying news: It’s clutched in the hands of a corpse.

Collapsed in a corner of the shed was what he could only assume was the cottage’s previous owner.

Almost jumping out of his skin, Fabian’s scream went muffled by the raging blizzard as he leapt a foot into the air at the sight. It was too cold for there to be a smell coming from it, but he covered his face anyway. Pressed up against the wall opposite it, he stilled. Controlling his panicked breaths the best he could. He’d dealt with the undead too many times not to have a healthy suspicion of “dead” bodies.

When it’d become apparent that no one was rolling for initiative, his shoulders relaxed. Pushing off of the wall, he crept over to the body. It’d been lying on the ground, curled up around the axe, next to a chopping block. Frozen despite the thick coat wrapped around them.

Riz would’ve probably inched closer to reveal the body’s face currently covered by a large hood, but Fabian couldn’t stomach it. Instead, he focused on the axe, careful to avoid touching the corpse as he took hold of the handle. Try as he might, his mild tugs weren’t enough to wrench it from the body.

Deep sigh.

His grip on the axe tightened. Already wincing at the act of disrespecting the dead. Counting down from ten, when he reached one he yanked the axe free. The sickening crunch of frozen bones breaking that sounded out into the quiet of the shed would haunt him for years.

Turning away from the body, Fabian dragged the axe behind him as he shuffled over to the rack for a bunch of logs. Settling one on the chopping block with a steading breath. Adjusting his hold on the throat and shoulder of the axe, he mimicked the stance he’d seen Gorgug take thousands of times now.

Drawing on every ounce of his strength, he heaved the axe up, his eyes never leaving the center of the log, and brought it down. Splitting the log in two.

The repetitive motions were soothing. In their own way. Even as his muscles began to ache and scream for a break. And even as the chill of the Mountains drained his energy. His mind found comfort in the raising and falling of the axe’s blade and the splitting of wood. It was like trudging through the snow. He didn’t know how far he had to walk; he didn’t know how many logs he’d have to chop. But he kept going anyway.

Fabian’s rhythm finally halted once the axe’s blade sunk so deep into the block that pure momentum wasn’t enough for him to be able to lift it again. Everything he’d been ignoring in favour of chopping hit him all at once. The sting of overworked muscles. The stiffness of his frame. The level of exhaustion.

Crumpling around the axe and onto the chopping block, a stray thought of falling asleep sounded like such a brilliant idea. Right here. Right now. He’d bring the firewood in afterwards. Just for a few minutes. Fabian’s heavy eyelids threatened to shut and stay that way for longer than he’d like. But not before his eyes landed on the corpse. Frozen to death in a crumpled pile in a shed in the middle of nowhere.

No.

That’s not how he’s going to go.

And besides, there’s a freezing Goblin inside who needs him.

Gritting his teeth, ignoring soreness and shaking limbs, Fabian brought himself to his feet. It took a good, solid minute but he eventually got there. Leaning heavily on the upright axe handle, he took a moment to take in just how many logs he’d chopped. The floor of the shed was absolutely covered in them. His eyes widened.

Okay, he’d kind of, maybe overdid it. By a lot.

Holy shit this is so much firewood.

Sheepish, Fabian gathered as much as could in the old, leather firewood carrier, along with a bundle of kindling,. Putting the rest up on the rack before heading back to the cottage.

With a noisy thump, he plopped the carrier and himself down next to the hearth. Unable to ignore how Riz didn’t flinch at its suddenness and volume. He got right to work.

Fabian could feel the palpable judgement from all the rangers and druids he knew as he built the fire. Deciding on something akin to a Jenga tower with the kindling on top. Sitting back, he stared at the logs. A deep frown on his face as he weighed the pros and cons of starting over again before shrugging and summoning his fire elemental.

After that fateful Spring Break, he and his elemental, whom he’d named Nar, had become quite the magical guinea pig for all of the Wizards he knew. Unable to stand the arcane anomaly laid before their inquisitive (read: nosy) minds.

Between Adaine, Aelwen, Ayda, and Zayne, they’d come to a peculiar arcane conclusion. You see, when he’d kissed Nar in Fallinel and swallowed that mote of fire, he’d become a material component of sorts.

Apparently, motes of elemental energy are usually only placed in expensive jewels. Thus becoming an Elemental Gem capable of casting Conjure Elemental. Which would make him the Half-Elven version of it, except better since the Gems are only one use. Or something like that. Fabian had only ever understood that much of their arcane babbling before zoning out.

To him, the academic reasons behind the source of his bardic power never mattered. Much to his Wizard friends’ exasperation. No, what mattered was how he felt and wanted other people to feel, and from there, his magic flowed into the world.

Knowing how freaked out Kalina made Kristen, he’d wanted her to feel every bit the hero she was when he cast Heroism on her. Whenever he cast Faerie Fire, it focused on his want, his need, to see what could potentially harm his friends. Fig had even once described his bardic inspirations as a surging seaside campfire after being shipwrecked. Hopeful and heartening in the face of overwhelming odds. While hers were more like a galvanizing jolt of pure hell-fiery rock n’ roll.

Whenever his Wizard friends had wanted him to conjure his elemental, he always went back to the moment when he summoned it forth for the first time. A time when he wanted nothing more than to protect his friends and keep them safe. More specifically, keeping Riz safe.

This must be why when he tried to summon it, wanting nothing more than to protect his best friend from the cold, Nar appeared quicker than it ever had.

In a rush of flames erupting from his sheet, Nar sprung to life in its sleek Elven shape of roiling flames. Immediately, it curled around Riz’s unconscious form. Adjusting the sheet around him before cupping his face and kissing his forehead.

A small spark of jealousy flared in Fabian’s chest as he rolled his eyes at his elemental’s cooing and doting.

Audibly clearing his throat so that Nar would pay attention to him, he gave a pointed nod at the fireplace. “Alright. If you’re quite finished with your little love fest over there, you have a job to do.”

Crossing its arms, Nar reluctantly left Riz’s side, not before one of their slender hands gave his curls one last ruffle. Without another word from Fabian, it dove into the hearth’s opening. Encompassing the stack of firewood and setting them ablaze. A tidal wave of heat crashed over him, almost to the point of pain against his icy, numb face.

Nar flowed out of the swelling fire to come to stand in front of Fabian, looking quite satisfied with itself. Rolling his eyes, Fabian gave it an obligatory round of claps, to which it did a ballerina’s curtsy before disappearing into his battlesheet.

Just as Fabian shook his head with a fond smile on his lips at his elemental’s dramatics, wondering where in Spyre it could’ve gotten that from, a small sigh pricked up his ears.

Whipping around just in time to watch as Riz sluggishly woke up. His eyelids opened to reveal golden gems, usually keen and hyperacute, now left hazy and weary by his levels of exhaustion. Yet they opened all the same.

“Riz!” Fabian’s heart leapt in his chest as he pulled the mattress closer to him and the fireplace.

“F’bian?” Riz murmured, looking like he was caught between wanting to curl up into the sheet further and sitting up to talk to him.

With a gentle hand placed on the center of Riz’s chest, Fabian guided him back to lying down. Maneuvering himself to sit behind the mattress and slightly above Riz. As not to force him to strain as they spoke.

Brushing a rebellious curl out of Riz’s sleepy face, Fabian said, “Yes, it’s me. How are you feeling?”

Riz heaved a shaky sigh, and Fabian’s heart skipped a beat as Riz leaned into the hand that’d lingered near his face. “Tired. I don’t think I’ve ever been this tired.”

“And I’ve seen you not sleep for a month.”

Riz smiled at that memory. “Hehe, yeah, gotta be a record right?”

Yeah, Fabian’s memory of that whole ordeal was less fond.

It’d been over the summer last year, and Riz had gone into “deep cover” again. Only for Fabian to find him perched like a gargoyle underneath the Marigold Docks running on zero sleep and heaps of coffee.

Apparently, he’d been tailing someone for his Dad, official upper planes business. Fabian had hardly cared about the reasons Riz had blustered about when caught, he’d instead immediately cast Sleep at his highest spell slot. Making a Dex save directly after to catch Riz’s unconscious form before he fell into the river.

Riz had woken up hours later in Fabian’s bed more than unimpressed, but Fabian ignored his glares and grumbles. Only mentioning that his dad might prefer that Riz didn’t work himself to an early death, and his mother more so. That shut him up enough to eat the soup Cathilda had made him.

Hmm.

Fabian pursed his lips, still deep in thought. “Are you hungry, perchance?”

“Yeah, I could eat,” Riz answered, furrowing his brow as he sensed they got off-topic somehow. They widened a second later as he bolted upright. “Wait, the tome! Did it make it? Is it ruined?”

“The tome is fine, The Ball. Look see,” Fabian said, reaching over to where he discarded the thick, leather-bound book and presenting it to Riz. “You kept it perfectly safe.”

“Good, good, good,” He said as his body relaxed at the sight of the tome. As he laid back down, his eyes grew heavy and his voice drowsy as he said one last time, “Good.”

By the gods, Riz was adorable when he was tired. With a small smile on his lips, Fabian brushed a few of Riz’s curls from his face and readjusted the battle sheet upwards. “Don’t worry, you focus on resting up and I’ll—” He looked out into the desolate cottage, frowning. “—Find us something to eat.”

Scanning his eyes over the interior of the cottage again, Fabian couldn’t help the grimace that took over his face. Nothing to find but dust and dirt. And heading outside to hunt for food (something he’s never done in his life) definitely wasn’t an option. Oh, this night just wouldn’t end!

An ever-growing sense of fatigue settled over him and a huge yawn escaped his lips. He was just so tired. And his bones ached and muscles screamed at him every time he moved. But he couldn’t fall asleep. Not yet. Just one more thing to do. Find food and then sleep. That’s it. Just find some food.

The first place Fabian looked was in his backpack. Mainly because it meant that he didn’t have to stand back up just yet but also because there could be a couple portions of rations that he hadn’t eaten yet.

Rifling through it, all he managed to find was a bag of loose nuts and berries. Fig had gathered them a couple days ago and tried to figure out how to cast Goodberry. Though she never figured it out (no matter how many times she used the words and movements they’d seen her mother use), they were still berries. And nuts! And thus, food! Sure, they’re still a far cry from anything substantial, but discovering them gave Fabian a much-needed boost in energy.

No longer so hopeless and weary, he gave the cottage a more thorough look through. Opening up creaking, dusty cabinets and cupboards and looking under tables and benches. Until he realized one of the heavier sacks he tossed aside left a trail of scattered oats across the floor.

Oats!

Fabian dropped to his knees, his heart racing and breath bottled up in his chest and lifted the sack upright. Steadying it before he ripped its top seam open. Revealing an entire, large bag of thick rolled oats. Still hesitant, Fabian dipped a hand into the grain and lifted a scoop of it to his nose before letting it fall back into the sack through his fingers. It didn’t smell off. Didn’t look it either. No mould or rot of any kind. There was no way for him to be one hundred percent sure, but he was willing to take the chance.

Now, he isn’t about to act like he’s Spyre’s greatest chef, but he has watched Cathilda make him porridge enough times to know that even he can’t fuck up making oatmeal…. He’s pretty sure he can’t fuck it up…. He has burned water before….

Riz might be fucked.

But it’s worth a shot!

After grabbing a cast-iron cooking pot from beside the fireplace, Fabian ventured back outside into the blizzard to fill the pot with untouched snow. He brought it back inside and hung it on the hook above the livid, scarlet flames. Letting the snow melt and boil as he grabbed a wooden spoon from the kitchen and dragged the sack of oats closer to the fireplace.

Between Riz’s soft snores and the crackling of lit hearth, this moment was strangely peaceful and almost domestic. Safe from the raging snowstorm outside, Fabian sat next to Riz on the mattress. Wiping off the dust from the wooden spoon with his jacket. His gaze shifted from Riz to the pot to the spoon and back again.

Until the snow, now water, began to bubble and boil. Fabian then took the pot off of the hook over the fire and placed it on another away from it but still close enough to keep the water warm. Next, he carefully scooped out handfuls of oats and dropped them into the boiling water. Watching as they began to soften and thicken and cling to the spoon as he stirred. Slowly but surely, it became porridge before his eyes.

Click.

Fabian was startled out of his cooking reverie by the sound of a camera shutter behind him. He whipped around to see Riz, his cheeks still rosy and eyes filled with sleep, holding his crystal up and staring back at him with a lazy grin.

“The Ball!” Fabian said with a gasp. “You can’t take photos of man without telling him!”

Smug as can be, Riz grinned and said, “I just did.”

“You’re supposed to be resting!”

“I was.” He said defiantly before the photo he took on his crystal caught his attention again and his face and voice softened. “It’s just… you looked so content. And none of our friends will believe you cooked anything without photo evidence, so…”

“Alright, fine. But sit tight, it’s almost done.” Fabian peered over the lip of the cooking pot at the bubbling porridge within. His brow arched and lips pursed. “I think.”

Creeping forward until he reached Fabian’s side, Riz took a deep breath as he peered over the pot as well. “Smells good.”

“That’s promising.” Fabian said, following suit. The nutty and slightly sweet aroma filled his nose in short order. Hmm, yes. That does smell rather good. Chalk up another win for Fabian tonight. Stirring the pot with a little more pomp and self-satisfaction, Fabian went on, “I do have to admit that it’s going to be rather plain. All I have to add are some of the berries Fig found a couple days ago.”

“Oh! Wait,” Riz scurried over to the nigh-forgotten backpack and pulled his briefcase out of it. Clicking it open, he stuck an arm into the case and began to rummage through the infinite space within. “Remember the nice couple back near the base of the mountain?”

“You mean the throuple with the freaky ravens?”

“Yes, them. If I’m remembering correctly they kept a hive of bees and gave us—” He pulled out a glass container of something bright and golden and lifted it high in the air. “—Ah ha! Gave us some honey for the road!”

“Huzzah!” Fabian cried, throwing one of his arms up in the air with a little more flourish. “Here, come add it to the pot.”

Still wrapped in the battle sheet, Riz scampered over with the vial of honey. Uncorking it with his teeth, he poured the viscous, golden liquid into the steaming pot of thick oatmeal while Fabian mixed them together. The two of them breathed in the smell of oatmeal now with the added slightly floral smell of the honey and looked at each other with warm smiles. Perfect.

“Brillant as ever the Ball.” Fabian said as he picked up the pouch filled with boysenberries and walnuts and delicately sprinkled them on top of the oatmeal.

Riz shrugged and said with a wry smirk, “Well, I try.”

Huddled together on the mattress with the cooking pot between them, the two of them took turns eating spoonfuls of their dinner. Filling their stomachs with much-needed warmth and sustenance. Between the mouthfuls, they idly talked in hushed tones. Riz flipped through the tome that they stole. Explaining its relevance to their current adventure and theorizing what their plan should be in the morning to Fabian. Who was still only half listening.

Too wrapped up in gazing at how the fireplace’s flickering flames danced in Riz’s amber eyes and softened some of his harsh yet handsome features. Sue him. His best friend was cute. Not that Fabian could ever work up the courage to tell him to his face. He was still a coward in that regard. Far too afraid and confused to ruin what he and Riz have with all these pesky, lovey-dovey feelings. No, he was content to just watch. To keep safe. For now and forever.

Before long, the cooking pot was empty, only the sticky remnants of the oatmeal left clung to the pot’s insides, and their bellies were full. As Riz yawned, large and cat-like, Fabian moved to take the cooking pot and head back outside to fill it with more snow. Planning on washing it out with the boiled snow in the morning for their breakfast. Which, now that he thinks about it, will be a lot less tasty than their dinner. Thanks to them using up all their natural sweeteners.

Hmm.

Well, that was a problem for morning Fabian.

This Fabian was bone tired and wanted nothing more than to fall dead asleep. And he wasn’t the only one.

Once he got back in and hung the pot over the fire, when he went to say something to Riz, Fabian found him curled up on the mattress, passed out. Snoring the night away. Fabian smiled at the sight and gave a nod, more to himself than anything. Quest completed successfully. Time for bed.

As quietly as he could, Fabian brought one of the old wooden chairs over and placed it as close to the fire as he could get it. Settling himself down on it, he tried his best to get comfortable but eventually gave up and simply tried to get some sleep. Nodding off moments later to the sound of Riz’s snores and the glow of the firelight.

“Fabian?”

Maybe a couple hours later, Fabian awoke.

Groggy and half-asleep, he pried his eyes open to find a concerned, shivering Riz in front of him and a low burning fire to his side. And though it took his mind a moment to fire back up, Fabian jumped to his feet and rushed to the fireplace.

Shit, shit, shit, shit.

Clumsily reaching and fumbling for another log before tossing it into the hearth. “Sorry, The Ball. Just one moment.” Fabian said as he reached for the fire poker and started jabbing it into the log. Hazily wondering if he could give a fire bardic inspiration to last longer. He waved a hand at Riz. “Go back to bed, I’ve got it.”

But Riz didn’t move.

He stood there, bathed in the fiery orange glow of the hearth and asked, “Why were you sleeping on the chair?”

A beat.

“Where else I am supposed to sleep?” He answered with another question. Something he knew Riz hated unless he was the one doing it. Riz tilted his head to the side and he scrunched up his face before he took a pointed look at the mattress and then back to him. Fabian smiled queasily. “Oh, I couldn’t.”

“Why?”

“Because, I—” Fabian gulped. “—I’d take up a lot of space. On the matress that is.”

“I woudn’t mind,” Riz said quickly, the words almost falling out of his mouth. “Goblins sleep in piles for warmth, even the ones that live up here in the cold. So…”

“Is that right?” Fabian asked. Riz nodded. Well… if he was fine with it. “Okay then.”

Timidly, Fabian followed Riz back to the mattress. Though he hesitated as he watched Riz get back under the battle sheet and the threadbare blanket.

Furrowing his brows, Riz reached out with his claws and gave his arm a tug. With his eight strength, it didn’t do much but urge Fabian forward. “We don’t have all night. Get in.”

“Alright, alright. Bossy much?” Fabian whined though he hurried to follow Riz’s orders. Slipping under the blanket and battle sheet, he had to stifle a groan as the magical heat of Nar sunk into his skin.

Almost instantly, Riz settled close to him, to his chest. Resting his head underneath Fabian’s chin before curling up into a ball, his tail winding around one of his legs. Without even thinking, Fabian wrapped his arms around him and tucked him deeper into the embrace, hiking up his knees to curl around him. It all felt so right. Like pieces of a puzzle slotting together. Perfect and satisfying. As if this was meant to be.

Finally at peace, Fabian basked in how correct this all felt. In the quiet of the cottage, the freezing wind still howling all around them, he’d never felt as untouchable as he did now. And looking down at Riz, an almost serene expression on his sleeping face, Fabian hoped he felt that way too.

One last thing, before he drifted off to sleep as well, Fabain kissed the top of Riz’s head and squeezed him a little tighter. Slipping off into unconsciousness, he only half noticed Riz squirming a bit in his hold before he felt a brush of lips on his jawline, heard a whispered, “Thanks, Fabes.”, and had one last thought.

Huh. Maybe someone heard his prayers after all.

And then,

Black.

Thank you so much for reading! This is my first d20 fic and though i know the fabriz fandom is quite small now, i look forward to enjoying Junior Year with all of you. Don't be a stranger! I'd love to hear what you think and if you have any requests, i'd be open to hearing and possibly writing them! Thanks again!

#fabriz #fabian seacaster #riz gukgak #fantasy high #fanfic #fabian x riz #my fics #heyyyy #yeah i write too!!#and it's the classic stuck in a snow storm plot!!#whatever shall out boys do??#i really do hope you all enjoy it!!

60 notes · View notes

tul1ps1 · 2 months

Text

𓂀 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝑒𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝑜𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝓂𝑜𝓇𝑒. 𓂀

satoru gojo x y/n angst.

tw: overdose, grieving a dead loved one

⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘ ⚘

nights with you suddenly turned into sleepless nights alone. satoru laid in bed, the time was now 4 AM. only the sounds of raindrops and thunder roaring were heard outside. a tear slipped down his pale skin as he scrolled through a photo album of you two. he clicked on a video where you were eating ice cream. your laughs almost brought a smile to his face, yet stabbed his heart. how long has it been without you? he missed the way your warm lips felt on his. the way your light up any room you walked into. how soft your skin felt. how a simple touch would warm his body. it wasn’t fair. how could you leave him like this? he didn’t know if he was more mad at the world, himself, or you. no, he could never be mad at you. anytime satoru felt alone, as if no one understood him, you always reassured him. you held him, took care of him, and loved him. so much he questioned if you were real sometimes. even though it hurt, he continued to scroll through the album. the more pictures he saw of you two together, the more tears he cried. he remembered how frequently you complimented his eyes. you said they reminded you of the deep blue sea. you said they gleamed in the moonlight, and shined in the sunlight. he knew that you wouldn’t want him to be like this, to be crying so much, to be hurting. no, you would want him to be happy. unfortunately, you were his happiness. he physically cant live without his one true love. his other half. if only he could go back. to see you once more. that beautiful smile and those breathtaking eyes. he cant stand listening to your voicemails anymore. hearing your voice through a recording wasn’t the same.

“satoru! my love, pick up the phone it’s urgent!”

january 23rd, 2024

“hi love, im waiting on some friends and ill be back home soon, dont stay up late waiting on me. i love you.”

march 15th, 2024

“baby i miss you soooo much. im stuck at the airport but ill see you sooo soon. i love you satoru, bye!”

may 31st, 2024

“im on my way home toru, im taking a uber so dont worry about picking me up haha. be there soon. i cant wait to see your handsome smile. see ya, i love you.”

may 31st, 2024

why? why did you have to uber home? why couldn’t he have just picked you up? you could’ve still been here. crys turned into sobs. satoru couldnt do anything now. he cant go back in time and save you from that car accident. he closed his eyes and saw you. for the first time in a while he felt peace. the sight of you brought him comfort. but when he opened his eyes you were gone and the throbbing pain retuned. he knew what he had to do. theres only one way he could be with you once more. there would be no more pain. just you two together forever, like it should’ve been. he got up and swallowed as many pills as he could find. followed along with his mental pain, was now physical pain. it didn’t matter to him. satoru went back to lay down. he closed his eyes once more and saw you again. he saw your beautiful soul again.

#fanfic #gojo satoru #gojo x y/n #angst #death mention tw #tw overdose #deppresion #jjk x y/n #jjk gojo #jjk #car accident #greif

16 notes · View notes

lightlycareless · 11 months

Note

ok but can we get the first page of the next chapter 😁😁🙏

Heya anon!

Of course :>

As always, spoilers underneath the cut for chapter 41!!

After Naoya’s apology, there’s no denying that you began to see him in a different light.

Or at least what little you could see him, for he’d largely keep away from you since that night.

Seems that he’s finally taking your request seriously—ironically, the moment you couldn’t be any more intrigued by him.

Truth to be told, you never, ever thought you’d get to this point, to where you couldn’t keep your mind away from Naoya, eyes looking for whim whenever entering a new room, seeing a figure pass; wondering what he was doing, where he’s going, what he’s thinking of… all while his apology went on and on inside within thoughts.

Yet here you are….

Mariya would ease your doubts by giving you insight into his whereabouts. Apparently, there had been conversations between the masters discussing whether you should be taken to the doctor or not, just to be sure that your sickness (which went virtually unattended by a professional, only overseen by your ladies) was officially gone.

And while this suggestion might not have been initiated as Naoya’s, past experiences lead you to believe he went along with it. Could’ve voiced how this was necessary to ensure your health as the future mother of his children, necessary for the Zen’in’s heritage, whilst hiding the fact this provided him the perfect excuse to spend time with you alone.

If that was the case, it was only a matter of time before he approached you to take you to the city, just as he’d done before.

“Actually… Naoya was the one who rejected the idea” Mariya confesses, and your breath hitches. “He said something about “if you didn’t want to go, then you shouldn’t be forced… that there is no reason for that if you’re feeling better.” Or so”

“What?”

Did he really say… that?

Apparently so, given how you were yet to be approached by him… at least, until the masters decided to go through with their proposition anyways, with Matsuo knocking on your door early morning to inform you of your new schedule for the day.

“You’re being taken to the doctor—get ready as quickly as possible.”

Looks like your husband was unable to sway the elder’s decision, either way, you complied with his orders and soon, you were standing by the entrance, waiting for further instructions as the chauffer brought along the car that was to take you and your husband to the city—adequately surprised when noticing it was a different one from the usual.

It was no mystery between the master’s that Naoya needed a new car, since the other was just a few miles away from becoming, as many would put it, garbage.

And it seems that it already got to that point—although you guess you shouldn’t complain much about it, it was a nice black convertible after all, which left you a bit starstruck as you observed it’s glossy, straight out of the agency shine, wondering when Naoya obtained such car, until he stepped into the scene.

#ask #naoya zenin #naoya zen'in #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x you #jjk naoya #naoya zen'in x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you

21 notes · View notes

msfcatlover · 2 years

Text

In which I propose a new superpower for Jason Todd

Jason was resurrected by a ripple/fracture/break in space-time/reality. Significantly, he was resurrected physically to a moment right before his death (I’d argue right before the bomb went off, based on his injuries and specifically the lack of smoke-damage to his lungs allowing him to call out for Bruce from down in his grave) but he remembers dying. Some analysis even suggests that resurrection made him immortal, that his death was overwritten and cannot be rewritten in any way that will stick. Plenty of AUs speculate about this giving him a whole variety of powers, but I haven’t seen this one yet, so...

Jason Todd exists, physically, as every single version of himself that ever was, could have been, or ever could be. He is, in a way, outside of time, a permanent glitch in the metaphorical matrix. He is a very, very specialized kind of shapeshifter, able to hit fast forward or rewind on his own physical form whenever he wants, but his perception of time remains linear & constant---he can’t actually see the future or anything, and if he shifts to the time he was a corpse, he’s still trapped & aware inside of his nearly useless, rotting body. When he meets alternate versions of himself from parallel universes, he also learns of different paths his life could’ve gone down, allowing him to rewind to the point where that changed and then fast forward down that other path as far as he wants (once again, this does not grant him the memories of that alternate life, he is always the Jason who stole from Batman, became Robin, died in that warehouse, and came back with a vengeance.) Not something he gets much use out of, given how few of the alternate selves he’s met have useful powers of their own, but handy for hiding scars or changing his build slightly for undercover work.

No, what Jason got/gets/will get the most use out of is the rewind feature. It can heal wounds, as long as he removes the blade or bullet which will not be affected by his shifting, which is both very handy (in the case of the former) and very troublesome (when the latter means he can’t risk shifting at all if he’s been shot or hurt with shrapnel.) He comes back to Gotham as a ghost, the Robin they all remember him as, and haunts his family just irregularly enough to really throw them off their games in between antics as the Red Hood.

(He also did/does/will do it instinctively sometimes, losing track of what age he’s supposed to be and shifting to the one he currently feels like, or the one he wants to be. He almost always drops however many years back to his late teens whenever he’s being especially petty or underhanded. When he’s scared, he has to actively remember not to let himself literally shrink back to 14, when he was Robin & a Wayne and actually felt safe. Under fear toxin, it’s not uncommon to find Jason under ten years old, tiny & scared, trying to find somewhere small to hide. In the opposite direction, he often gets older when he wants people to take him seriously, because something Jason learned young is that nobody listens to people they think are children.)

(Needless to say, the full-face helmet is very useful, and he keeps the filters well maintained & at the bleeding-edge of bat-technology. Nightwing having to carry a sobbing six year old back to the cave for treatment should never, ever have happened even the one time, and Jason’s not about to let it happen again!)

He needs to remember to age at all, since he just hit/hits/will hit “pause” when he reaches the form he wants. He came out of the Lazarus Pit a glitchy, blurring mess of a thing, and it took a while before he was able to find a form that felt comfortable in the time he was now in (the body he would have had, if Bruce got there in time and took Jason to the al Ghuls to beg healing for his son’s wounds.) The further he gets from the current time/reality, the more uncomfortable a form was/is/will be to hold; like wearing a skin-tight suit that doesn’t quite fit, getting smaller the further he gets from “here & now.”

(Yes, that does mean Jason will inevitably experience ever-increasing discomfort as time goes on and he gets further from his original resurrection; he’s not supposed to be “here” right “now.” The longer it’s been since Jason Todd ceased to exist, the more out of place a living Jason Todd was/is/will be.)

122 notes · View notes

clumsiestgiantess · 1 year

Text

Chapter four of the Other-world Universe; Alexis tries (and fails) at being helpful.

all chapters linked here

[The power of a pile of free cash] The cycle of realities repeated itself yet again, and soon I was bored enough with my own reality to swap worlds. I was curious to see how the young woman was coming along with the money I'd given her. Before I got home however, one of my friends stopped me in the hall. “Are you ok?” they asked me. Apparently, I seemed rather distracted lately. “There’s just a lot of things going on at home,” I replied. It was technically true. “Don’t worry about it.” Giving me another concerned look, they told me they would be there if I needed to talk, and I nodded, trying my hardest to focus on them when my mind had already begun to wander through thoughts of the other-world. Eventually, they sighed and moved on to a different topic as we walked down the hall together. They'd clearly given up on getting any more information out of me, having already tried a few less conspicuous ways to get something of an answer from me, but obviously I couldn’t tell them the truth.

When I got home, I immediately dropped my backpack by the basement couch and prepared for another trip to the other-world. I can always do homework when I get back. I have all the time I need to do it since this little pit stop will only take a few seconds in my world. Traversing the lay of the land so many times, I’d pretty much mapped out the easiest and least destructive way to the city. There was only one slightly sketchy detour I took through a skate park to get to the field behind the young woman's building.

However, when I returned to her apartment, everything was a mess. The money had downright vanished; nothing had changed. Her apartment had apparently been paid off, but the rest of the money was gone. Or so I thought. When the young woman returned, she arrived with a fancy new car and outrageously expensive-looking outfit. I’d just brought her car back to her and now she’d gotten rid of it. This was definitely NOT what I gave her the money for. The heck is wrong with you? I mentally asked as she disappeared into her apartment. You’re supposed to use my money wisely, not blow it all on things you didn’t need!

Things only got worse from there. Through various ways of sneaking around, I started following her to find out what she’d done with the rest of my money. I gave her so much, how could she have possibly spent it all already? Never underestimate the power of a pile of free cash. The young woman had visited both the mall and the downtown shopping area by the end of the day. I was also fairly sure she quit her job, relying entirely on the money I’d so foolishly given her. I hadn’t seen her go to work at all since I started watching her.

Every day I watched her, every day she drove herself further into the ground. I'd even witnessed her steal her ex’s car and have it crushed at a junkyard. The incident was so baffling that I almost controlled her simply to stop her from doing it. I suppose I could’ve deemed it an emergency so I could control her without breaking my own rules, but it didn’t matter. Eventually the money ran out, and she ended up in more debt than she started with.

I wanted to scream, and I did, but in my own world where no one could hear me. Alright, I calmed myself, this time I’m going to have to change things. There was still a decent amount of money left in the bank from the space set, and I’d brainstormed a few ideas on how to keep her from wasting it. Determined to set things straight, I grabbed more tiny bills from the set. I made sure to only take a reasonable amount of cash, not whatever I could grab like last time.

The space set was boxed up on the shelf for now, but if Liam ever took it down to play with again, he’d probably wonder where all the money went. Maybe he’ll just think he lost the pieces. There were a few other set parts missing, which was why it was left on the shelf to begin with.

My new and improved plan was this: Instead of leaving the young woman on her own with the pile of cash, I’d put the money out and wait right there until she came and found it. The other steps are a work in progress, but I’ll probably just make them up as I go. Basically, I’d be monitoring her a lot more closely than just handing thousands of dollars to her and walking away. I returned to the other-world, money in hand, and made my way back to the apartment, carefully placing the bills into a heap on the floor just like last time. Then, I waited for the young woman to come home.

When she finally came back from who knows where, I slid over to the balcony doors to watch. She’d barely stepped into the apartment before realizing something was off. Turning the tight corner by the doorway, she walked into the living room and stopped short, staring at the new bills that seemingly appeared from nowhere. The young woman stepped cautiously over to the pile in a daze. Slowly, she turned to the balcony. Oh no, I left the door open! I quickly backed away from the doorway as she stepped out onto the small metal outreach. Looking around baffled for a moment, she spoke to the empty alleyway below her. “I don’t know who keeps doing this or why, but..” she glanced backwards into her apartment, “This better not be a test.. or a bribe.. but thanks.” Finally, she turned and closed the balcony door behind her, giving me a chance to let out the breath of air I'd been holding. Soon, she began collecting the money stacked up on the floor. Don’t thank me yet, I thought smugly.

The young woman stayed in that night, and I waited outside for the morning to come so I could set my plan into motion. A few ideas had popped up while I sat around waiting for her, and I was eager to try them. I yawned, suddenly very tired. I’ve been awake in both worlds for a long time now. It won't hurt if I rest a while, right? Just because I’m on a stakeout doesn't mean I can't close my eyes for a bit. I sidled backwards to the far end of the small field, giving myself another whole foot of room. Despite the tight space, I was asleep in no time.

I couldn’t really tell how long I’d been out, but I was suddenly woken by something slamming into my side. A truck had crashed into my leg; its whole front bumper was completely caved in. My leg must’ve fallen across the road in my sleep. A man stumbled out of the driver’s seat, and I sleepily backed off, retreating further into the old baseball field. I waited as a tow truck came and wheeled away the crushed vehicle, while whoever was driving the damaged truck kept complaining that there was nothing he could've possibly hit; the road was completely empty. Well, at least he knows not to drive back here anymore, I thought sleepily. I'll be sitting here more often now; maybe it's for the best he learns not to be here.

The sky was just beginning to fade into the dazzling oranges of early morning, and with so many cars and buildings reflecting its light, it was almost impossible for me to go back to sleep. So much for getting a good night's rest. I sat in the field, bored, waiting for something to happen so I could put my plan into action. Finally, the apartment lights flickered on, and I sidled over to the window excitedly. Nothing had actually happened yet, she only got up to make a cup of coffee, and afterwards the young woman picked up a few outfits and laid them out, trying to decide between them. I huffed disappointedly, finding this part of the morning a bit boring, but when she pulled her pajama top over her head, I recoiled away so harshly I nearly fell over backwards. Though these people and their city were surely fake, they certainly looked real. I stepped over the building to watch by the street instead.

As I sat off to the side of the road, I realized I didn't even know the young woman's name. Controlling a passerby to get close to the building, I managed to read the nameplate next to her room number, which I’d caught in the reflection of a hall mirror. The name read ‘Erica Anderson’. Satisfied, I returned to my spot and released the stranger. Erica drove off a bit later, and I followed her car from a distance, simply because I couldn't get much closer to the city. Eventually, she parked in a garage connected to one of the fanciest shopping malls I'd seen in the other-world. Then again, I hadn’t really seen much beyond the city and the mountain range. What is out there in the rest of this strange world? I assumed it ended at the end of the table holding it all up in my world, but the highways branching out of the city had to go somewhere. I'd have to find that out later. Right then, I had to stop this poor woman from wasting any more of my money.

No way are you spending all of it on clothes and mall stuff, I thought resentfully. Carefully placing a hand over her, I had her drive to a large city-owned building instead. A sign outside the door read: Addicted Spenders Therapy Sessions room 105. It was really a genius plan. I'd been watching the billboard ads while I was bored, and an advertisement for this lecture popped up, ironically right after an ad for a new line of expensive luxury items like handbags and the like. I had a feeling the ad placement was somewhat intentional, though.

I made Erica go to the room and sit in for a class, letting her go right before she entered the building. Quickly remembering I would no longer be intangible without a person to control, I latched on to someone in an office building nearby. It was much taller than me, which was a bit unsettling. Most of the buildings around me were taller than me, and most of the ground beneath me was filled with moving people and cars. It was all a bit overwhelming and strangely claustrophobic. I sat literally in the building, having no room elsewhere, letting whoever I had in my control just continue with their work. Sitting through the steel frame of the building was probably one of the strangest feelings I’d ever had. The entire building almost seemed like a hologram — a projection of light that wasn’t actually tangible, though really it was me that was the intangible one.

About an hour later, Erica came rushing out of the meeting, looking confusedly up and down the street as if she were unsure how or why she was there. Apparently my control only lasts so long without me there to keep it running. By the looks of Erica's confusion, it seemed as though she didn’t even know where she was. I latched back onto her, releasing the office worker, and internally reminded her that she wanted to go to each session of these classes. Her confusion slowly seemed to disappear with my assurance.

There, I thought, that wasn't so hard, was it? Once everything was set up, I left her to her own devices for a while. I hadn’t given her nearly as much money as the first time, so later in the week I set her up with a decent job as well. Since I had no clue what she did prior to when I'd first given her the money, I decided to put her into a simple customer services-type job. Surely she could manage it. All she had to do was talk on a phone, how hard could that be? Alright, this is going well, I don’t think she’ll do anything stupid again, right?

Wrong. Very wrong. I left for a few months to deal with things in my own world, however; so I didn’t even know it for a while. My team won the state volleyball tournament, that was fun. I failed a math test, that was less fun. During winter break, my family drove out to an island in our camper van. For a few blissful days, my life seemed perfect — collecting shells on the beach and riding rollercoasters on the pier by day, lighting bonfires and stargazing by night. I felt like I was set for life. Our family loves the beach; I’m surprised we don’t live closer to one. I made a mental note to find a nice oceanfront whenever I returned to the other-world.

All good things come to an end though, I suppose. After a week on the island, it was time to make the return trip home. It was always a melancholy experience, leaving the beach behind. The time we spent there was always fun, but the island was so small, there were only so many things to do before you’d done them all. Back at home, there was now only one little weekend left before break was over. However, I’d saved the last two days for finishing school assignments, so my break was basically over right then and there. If only there was a way to stop tomorrow from coming, I thought wryly. It really was rather nice to have another world all to myself.

My good mood was instantly shattered when I returned, though. I found Erica in jail for drunken driving. She managed to pay off her bail, but the fees left most of her bills unpaid, again. What do I have to do to get you to be responsible for once? It’s only been what, a month, I think, since I left? Erica had also been sentenced to community service, which I overheard her complain about when she arrived home.

Sitting in the field out behind her building, I thought, again, about how to deal with this. I was far too invested to give up now. Maybe if I move her further from the city, she won’t keep getting into these situations in the first place. I knew Erica wouldn’t like it if I made her randomly move, but it was for her own good, and the job I’d given her would likely allow it. Even if her boss wouldn’t let her, I could always control them and suggest that they change their mind.

I decided to search for a house when it got dark, that way less people would be out, and less people would be in my way. Once the sun set, I began my trip out to the suburbs beyond the city, closer to where I first zapped into the world. None of the homes really stood out to me, though. Try as I might, I couldn’t find a good enough house in suburbia; all of them looked almost the same.

While I was searching through the many cookie cutter homes, I noticed a modern mansion sitting seemingly untouched on top of a cliff overlooking the city. Whoever owned the mansion was currently selling it for a ridiculous amount of money, but it wasn't that hard to scrounge up enough to easily outbid any other offers with the help of a rich-looking puppet. It was perfect. Erica wouldn’t be too compelled to move back to the city if she was living there, and the cliffside allowed me easier access to the house. The next day, while Erica was out doing her forced community service, I quite literally took things into my own hands.

I got a few movers and a truck to come over and get her things, and watched as they drove everything over to the new place. It took a while for them to get all the way out to the cliffside, and even longer for them to move everything inside the mansion. I couldn't even leave and come back because I had to keep all of the movers at least somewhat under my control. Eventually, the job was done and I released them back to their normal lives. Realizing how late it was, I rushed back into the city as fast as I could. I didn’t dare run, knowing I would cause both tremors and destruction if I did.

Watching the movers had caused me to lose track of time. When I finally made it back, I saw with a pang of guilt that Erica's car was already out front. I raced to the back deck and watched as she looked around her empty apartment, devastated. I opened the balcony to reach in and control her, but before I could do anything, Erica marched out onto her deck and I quickly backed away. "What the hell?! I thought you were supposed to be giving me money and helping me out and shit!" she yelled angrily at the field I sat in. "Is this some kind of punishment for my arrest, because if it is.. Where the hell is my stuff, huh?"

For a long moment, I sat frozen. Can she see me? Erica grumbled and stormed back inside, pacing the length of her now empty apartment. I realized that she'd addressed 'whoever was doing this' before, when I’d mistakenly given her a hint to where I was. She didn't actually know that I was there. All she knew was that the door to the deck was open at the same time money kept appearing. Still, it was unnerving, like she was actually yelling at me.

Carefully, I reached through the open patio door again and took control. I had her go back outside and drive to her new house, walking silently next to her car the whole way. Since I had her under my control, I no longer had to avoid everything that I could potentially trample. It was nice being able to walk around without fear of demolishing anything.

When Erica finally pulled up to the small mansion, I released her. She slowly wandered inside, where she stood speechless, looking over the boxes of her things that had miraculously been moved there. She found the keys to the house on one of the boxes by the door. Dazed, Erica stepped out onto the lawn overlooking the cliff, then circled back to her car. "I don't know if I'm going crazy, or if there's someone or something behind everything that's been happening to me," she mused. "Maybe this is a secret social experiment or something. But god, you- you didn't have to go and get me this." Shaking her head with a chuckle, Erica looked back over her shoulder at the mansion. "I really am just going crazy, aren't I?" She shrugged, “Well, as long as good things keep coming my way, I honestly don’t care how any of this happens.” Erica stepped back into the new house, and I left her to get settled in. Maybe, finally, she would change.

I was hesitant to leave Erica alone again, knowing what happened the last few times, so I stayed and watched her for a bit every day. However, after a few weeks or so, I was getting bored of watching similar things happening daily. She hadn’t done anything too out of the ordinary while I was there, so eventually I left — confident that this time Erica could handle herself without me. Every once and a while I’d come back and check on her, but she’d been doing pretty well for a while now, and I was beginning to move on to other things. About five months had passed since I’d first met Erica, and more than once I thought about showing her the truth. Where the money came from, who was actually helping her out, but that was an increasingly bad idea the longer I thought through it. Showing Erica everything would only leave her with way too many questions than she needed answered.

#will Erica finally behave now?#is Alexis getting a little TOO invested in this?#tune in next time to find out lol #other-world universe #g/t #giant tiny

22 notes · View notes

rianafying · 8 months

Text

hello diary i’m back idk what is happening or why i ever feel what i feel, but here goes nothing

i’ve been feeling very creative today, had a terrible morning woke up insanely dehydrated, could barely move, my arthritis and psoriasis had flared up as well, i had to cancel my gig but they’re fine, they had other people on board. i don’t really feel like i missed out because i literally couldn’t have gone and needed to stay home and rehydrate, plus it’s like 37 degrees outside, i’ll stay home thanks. anyway, so i got some much needed rest and i ate and drank loads of water and i feel replenished now and i feel hopeful and creative and i wish i could’ve just started something, a project or whatever. but i have no many chores standing firmly between me and what i actually want to do. will is a terribly difficult thing to conjure. i had a telehealth appointment to get diagnosed w adhd in melbourne so i can access the necessary treatment, but they’re telling me it’ll be at least $800 and at least 4 sessions to just get diagnosed. and that to me is a huge undertaking. i told them ill think about it but what is there to think of, i know fully well i cant afford it. i wish i had an ipad to draw on. ive been wanting to draw something for ages and i could draw on my physical sketch book but i just haven’t? i just cant? its the guilt from all the chores i haven’t done. there’s a proper inspection due in 4 days and i just know it’s going to cripple me with anxiety as the date comes closer. there’s so much stuff that i want to do. and yet i do nothing. i’m not doing even 1% of everything i want to do, because im stuck doing 100% of the things i hate but have to do. when im older, i hope i get permanent residency in australia or any other first world country, i wish i have a safe and permanent place to live, regardless of size or quality. i wish i have someone who can help me with the tasks i struggle with and i can help them with tasks they struggle with and if we both struggle at the same things, we’ll understand each other, we can struggle and learn together. hopefully this will not be a romantic partner because i don’t think my brain is hardwired to deal with matters of the heart in a stable way. i hope that by the time i feel safe, the children of gaza feel safe too. i hope we win. i thought of them when i got dehydrated and worried that ill get a uti, i thought about how much worse they have it. i think of them all the time but especially when im suffering and im reminded that they have it many folds worse. i try to derive hope, strength, and gratitude from that instead of helplessness, and powerlessness.

i haven’t been able to take out the trash and get rid of my dead plants and they’re starting to attract bugs and i really need to do that today, i’ve been saying that everyday, it’ll just take seconds. i also am very close to having $0 in my account because i had to buy some meds and i found some vitamins for half price and decided to buy a whole buttload of them #forhealthiguess also its SO HOT. and im trying to avoid turning on my air conditioner because my electricity bill last month was $140??? like why? it’s a crazy world out here. crazy expensive. for the millionth time, i really should get a real job soon. or try to. i doubt i’ll ever have enough to be independent. i fear i’ll always be at the mercy of my parents. i fear i’ll heal too slow to keep up with the damage.

all day i did nothing. that’s not true, i went grocery shopping and i made meatballs, and spaghetti and it turned out great. the one thing i always cook successfully is any kind of pasta, never fails. i feel 50% guilty for not doing anything important today. such as taking out the trash, cleaning my room, etc. it’s the one thing i hate doing: house chores. makes me wanna scream, cry and throw up. i made a mistake, last night i accidentally left my earphones on the couch at reception downstairs and hadn’t even realised until earlier today when i was leaving the building and saw it on the couch. i feel so relieved that i live in a place where nobody stole it all day. part of me feels like i don’t deserve to live so well. because for nearly a year, i have been living wonderfully, everything’s going so well, and all my demons are inside of my own head. this is new for me. there’s no actual threat, i think. still feels like there is. i’m less overwhelmed than usual, but still pretty overwhelmed. there’s always too many ideas and not enough ability to implement them. how do i feel chaos and clarity simultaneously. i just need a break from this mental torment. i think getting my apartment clean will definitely help with that. but it’s such a big task, even thinking about it makes me fall to my bed and start to rot. suddenly i find that my body won’t move. adhd sounds like it’s so quirky and funny until you’re surrounded with piles of garbage and flying insects and there is a mysterious sticky brown patch underneath the fridge that just will not move. until there’s no space to walk from one end of the room to the other without stepping on and crushing things underneath my feet. it feels as if my brain has acquired an endless supply of shame and guilt. i will probably not feel focused until my room is actually clean. clean enough to be inspected. clean enough to maybe even have visitors. i get anxious just thinking about the prospect.

#personal #journal entry

6 notes · View notes

redhairedgirl95 · 2 years

Note

Stella comforting Brandon about his insecurities in their different royal status? :))

Stella comforting Brandon about his insecurities as King Consort

Stella comforting Brandon about his insecurities as king consort

It hadn’t been easy. They – but mainly he – had struggled since the day they’d officially announced their engagement, three years prior. Stella was already queen and her being betrothed to a commoner, especially a foreigner, hadn’t sat well with the majority of her counsellors and fellow nobles. Oh, he had Radius’s and Luna’s support, but it wasn’t easy wearing a crown when you feel you don’t deserve it. And when you know the people think you don’t deserve it.

His mother had told him to ignore the whispers: if Stella had made him king consort, that meant she thought he was worthy of it. She could’ve given him any other title – count, duke, prince – and the people wouldn’t have complained. Yet, she had decided of her own free will to go against her own people, the fiery Solarians, and make him her king. Consort, of course. The final say would always be hers, yet he had power over the army, could speak in her name and was awarded every other honor a “full” king would have. Especially when the Queen was otherwise occupied.

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

“Shnookums? Are you here?”

He wasn’t in their bed when she had woken up in the middle of the night for a trip to the bathroom, which had become quite frequent in the last few months. So, after her much needed trip to the bathroom, she had gone to look for him in the stables. He always went there when he couldn’t sleep. And there he was, the king consort of the realm of Solaria, sitting on an upside-down bucket, fixing a horse’s shoe. He had told her once that his grandfather – whom he’d never met – used to shoe horses for Eraklyon’s Royal Guard.

“It’s 3:27.” She informed him. She never needed a watch to tell the time.

To that, he seemed to notice her presence and looked up at his very pregnant wife. Had she climbed down all those stairs in her condition?

She anticipated his question. “I flew here. You know I can do that without transforming now, right?”

“I know.” He finished his work and led the horse back into his box, then he washed his hands in the nearest sink and reached her. “You should be resting.”

“You should be resting.”

“You know what I mean.” Brandon replied, leaning down to leave a gentle kiss on her bump, covered in the silk of her nightgown.

“The baby doesn’t want to go to sleep.” Stella said. “I guess she misses her papa.”

“She? Do you know something I don’t?”

She shook her head. “It’s just a feeling … like the feeling I have that you’re not telling me everything here.”

Brandon sighed and took her by the hands, leading her outside the stables and into the garden. He helped her sit down in their favorite bench and sat next to her.

“The Council Meeting today … was pretty harsh. Lord Orion kept throwing numbers at me. Some sort of approval rating. And General Rigel kept going on and on about how he doesn’t like my way of training the soldiers, how he would do everything differently if he were in charge, how we’re gonna lose every war …”

“Solaria’s not at war.” She reminded him.

“I know …”

“And General Rigel has never been in a war zone, has he?”

“No, he hasn’t. But …”

“And we’ve fought – and won – how many wars already?”

“I don’t know … seven?”

“Mmm … too many to count anyway.” She smiled at him, as she caressed her baby bump.

“I know, but I still feel that maybe … maybe we could ask your father to fill in for a little while … just until the baby is born and you get back on your feet.”

“Brandon …”

“It will be a perfect solution. Everyone loves Radius and …”

“Ah-ah.” She put her index finger on his lips. “I won’t hear it. They don’t hate you; they just hate that you are in charge and they aren’t. I remember my first Council Meetings: everyone tried to talk me down just because they thought they were smarter than me. It’s what they’re doing to you. They think you’re my trophy husband.”

“Your trophy husband?” Brandon looked shocked but amused too.

“And baby daddy.” She added with a smile.

Brandon smiled too as he put a hand on her belly and felt the baby kick. “He is feisty.”

“She is. And if she could, she would tell you that it doesn’t matter what a bunch of people thinks of you, because I … we know who you are and how worthy you are of this position. Got it?”

He kissed her on the lips. “You’re very good at cheer-up speeches, you know, my Queen?”

“I know.” She smiled and kissed him again. “They’re my specialty.”

Both knew that the road ahead was still long and hard, but they had each other, and a little one on the way. They could manage. They would do more than manage.

#giulia speaks #giulia answers asks #screaming into the void just because #dzulia writes #stella and brandon #stella x brandon #brandon winx club #stella winx club #brella #writing

26 notes · View notes

anukulee · 1 year

Text

Our Dance

youtube

A young woman barely twenty, with long hair as auburn as the fall leaves flowing down, it tied like a crown covered with flowers, her eyes as blue as the ocean, wearing a light blue dress covered with lighter flowers, the shoulders of the dress being near her arms. How Loki wished that the dress was in his color. Yet despite her dress not being in his color, she was the only one who filled his vision. She stood there alone rather than dancing as she should be. For this woman had been invited by many different suitors some as an act of friendship others in the hopes of something more. Yet she had turned each one of them down making Loki wonder whom she had attended to accept for she could never accept him. Though she was everything he could ever want he wasn’t the same for her. Even now as she was dressed so innocently as if she wasn’t like him in ways of cunning, intelligence, sarcasm, powers, and so many other ways. Seeing her there alone as men would swarm around her reinformed the notion he had already known. He wasn’t yet good enough for her if ever after all how could he ever compare to the others? Loki had been lost in thought until he felt a tap on his shoulder. Rather than be greeted by the sight of her instead he was faced with the sight of his older brother Thor. “I see you have still yet to ask lady Astra to dance brother.”

“Now is there another reason you are here other than to state the obvious dear brother?” Loki’s tone reflects his current grumpy mood not made any better by Thor's interruption.

“No need for the claws brother. For it’s not my fault brother that you haven’t asked her yet.”

“Why would I ask her for you know as well as I do, she has far better suitors than the likes of me. After all, I am merely a monster meant to die had it not been for father as he likes to remind me.”

“Brother you know as well as I that father was wrong about that. Had it not been for you the remainder of our people would’ve had nowhere to go yet you offered them passage on your ship.”

“If you recall I stole the said ship.”

“I do brother and if you recall I also stole a ship that was used for certain things of the grandmaster.”

“Must you have added the last part I could’ve gone my entire immortal life without hearing that?”

“It’s too late for that now either you ask her or we do this the hard way,” Thor said with a twinkle in his eyes that resembled Loki’s.

“You wouldn’t dare brother.”

“Oh, but I will little brother so either you man up or I will make you do it.”

“Fine, you are nearly as bad as one Tony Stark.”

“Who I will remind you allows you to stay within in-residence reindeer games. So, I would be a little more grateful to me,” Tony said as he appeared out of the blue. At this Loki let out an eye roll wanting to leave before he had to deal with Tony more than he had to. As he started to make his way in her direction seeing as there seemed to be nobody else with her. Loki was almost about to go over to her when he stopped in his tracks. If he did this could ruin everything he had worked so hard for. If this failed could he do without her in his life? All for a mere hunch on his brother's part. Rather than maintain his true form Loki changed his appearance to resemble a character he had seen in a recent Midgardian movie he was made to watch. A glow of his green magic turned his hair from black to light brown, his green eyes became blue like hers, and a thin bit of facial hair appeared. She wouldn’t know any better at least he hoped she wouldn’t as Loki went to her side and offered his hand.

“How long has it been since you waltzed,” Loki asked in a quiet manner especially towards the end yet still this rose the attention of the young woman.

“What did you say?”

“Nothing I was just curious why is one such as yourself alone on an evening such as this?"

The young woman knew from the moment the person opened their mouth that it was Loki. Even if he had changed his appearance, it was still Loki. But rather than reveal she knew, she decided to have a little fun. "Simple, because the guy I wanted to be here has yet to come.” Hearing those words sent something in Loki as ting because of course he wasn’t the guy. Still for now he could pretend he had a chance at least until that guy came to sweep her off her feet.

"Oh, is he? Well, what a coincidence, the person I wanted to be with seems to be a no-show as well. Seeing as we are both alone, will you do me the honor and dance?"

"Oh, and why should I, mysterious stranger, for all I know you could be a stalker."

"Well, I can assure you I am not a stalker."

"Oh, you can?"

"If I was a stalker I would have already gotten the person I wanted, rather than be here."

“True I suppose.”

“So what do you say about a dance until our partner arrives?”

“I suppose so though I must warn you my partner can get quite cross when he is angry.”

“Yet you still wait for him?”

“Always.”

“Why through would you wait for them even if I offer you my hand? What could make them better than me?"

“I could ask you the same mysterious man you wait for a woman who has yet to show.”

"Ah, well, lovely woman, they are everything to me. I could easily say they are my soulmate."

"I'm lovely, yet even with that, you still think a person who was a no-show is your soulmate. Why is that?"

"They made me want to become a better person for them, I feel they are the one person who understands me and doesn't judge me for who I am."

"Oh, and why would anyone judge you, mysterious stranger?"

"Let's just say, in my past, I haven’t always done the right thing. These mistakes I have made aren’t easy to forget."

"Oh, is that so, and you say this person doesn't judge you for that?"

"They don't, they're there."

"Oh and is that all you love them for because they're there?"

"No, it's because that's just a part of them that I love. They always keep me on my toes no matter what. We can bicker all day long and never once have I ever gotten bored. And even with me being the person that I am they have never left me."

"Well, until now, that is, yet you still wait for them."

"I could say the same to you and your absent love. What makes them so special?"

"Well, he is an ass at times, but he is my ass. He tries to hide under a personality that is a result of who his adoptive father made him be. He has done things much as you have, yet underneath everything, he is this guy who is so caring and just wants to be seen as other than what he is. He makes me feel so happy even if we are fighting and I wouldn't mind spending the rest of my life with him."

"Oh is that so then why aren't you with him?"

"Maybe because he may be in love with someone else."

"Is that so?"

"Yes, even he came up with me and told me about this person he seems to be so in love with. Yet he still asked me to dance making me wonder if all this time I spent with him he meant it for someone else and I was just there. So what is the answer to that Loki?"

At this Loki let out a sigh as he allowed his green magic to come over him and return him to his regular appearance. “How long have you known?”

“Since the start when you asked me to waltz. Only you know my fondness for the dance.”

“All because of that Addam family couple. You are clever, aren’t you darling? This is why I love you, Ingrid."

At this, Ingrid let out a cruel laugh. "If you loved me, why would you pick someone else over me?"

Loki got closer to Ingrid as his eyes began to fill with the hope he never had hope that he was right. "You know, for someone so smart, did you ever think that the person I was talking about was you?"

"I did until you said you would rather be with them than me."

“Like you were any different hardly giving me any hint as to who they were. Acting as if they were another.”

"You started it when you came over here."

"Yes, but you didn't put a stop to it."

"Could you blame me? I never know what you are thinking for norn's sake. You’ve had all night to come over here yet you just choose now.”

“Maybe because I was fearful for what it meant for us and how I could compare to all of your other suitors.”

“Whom I rejected in favor of you.”

“Is that so?” Loki then tilted Ingrid's head towards his green eyes facing her blue ones. Astra didn’t push him away.

"Yes."

"Well then perhaps I should show you how glad I am for that.”

“Will you?”

#angst with fluff #angst with happy ending #soft Loki

3 notes · View notes

alaffy · 2 years

Text

One of Us is Lying, Ep2x02 - Simon Says Tick Tock

Wow, the writers really wanted to have it both ways, don't they? The conclusion of the first season could have gone in two different directions, depending on what people knew about Jake’s involvement in Simon’s death. However, both of the directions can’t happen at the same time and, yet, that doesn’t seem to stop the writers from trying.

But before I really go into this, let's start with what happened in the episode. Simon Says contacts The Murder Club and tells them what Simon Says wants them to do. They have to get Jake's watch and they have to do it before midnight. Of course, everybody's freaking out, because how do they get Jake’s watch? Jake is at the bottom of the ocean. Except he's not. Turns out the Janae and Nate weren't able to take the boat, without people witnessing them taking the boat, and dumping the body. So, they put the body in the freezer of the boat. Where it has been for God knows how many days. And it was at this moment that I actively started rooting for Simon Says because these are the dumbest motherfuckers on the planet. Seriously, you're just assuming that your parents are never gonna use the boat? You didn't take it out the next night or the night after that? Nope. You just you just left the body there. OK, fine.

But of course, everybody's worried that this is all a trick from Simon Says in order to find the body. So, they concoct a plan where everybody goes to different places. Nate and Bronwyn go to, I think, a junkyard. And Addie and Cooper are driving around. Janae, on the other hand, goes to the boat and is about to get the watch when she hears footsteps. Oh surprise, surprise, it's Maeve and they have a big fight because Janae is not talking to her. Blah blah blah. You know, romance bullshit. And I will be perfectly honest in this case. I don't care enough about the characters to care about the romances; which is kind of sad because I actually did like them from the book. Just here they've become so stupid that caring is a waste of time.

Anyway, they get the watch. And they're told that somebody has to wear said watch until Simon Says that they can take it off. Of course, the biggest fear is that Jake was wearing the watch at the party and that somebody will notice that they're wearing Jakes watch, which is engraved.

Meanwhile, Maeve is upset because of the fight with Janae and she's in Bronwyn's room. Bronwyn comes in and thinks Maeve found out about the body and they have a fight. And then later, when Bronwyn's asleep, Maeve comes in and checks Bronwyn’s phone and sees the picture that Janae took of the watch. And of course, she's now wondering why Janae has Jake’s watch. Meanwhile, I’m wondering why they didn’t have some code that Janae could’ve texted when she got the watch instead of sending a picture.

Next day it's decided that Cooper is going to wear the watch. Meanwhile, everybody else is going to blatantly watch Cooper to see who's watching Cooper so they can figure out who Simon is. Which, OK, good, you're in high school. There's like 2000 people. Good luck there. Also, Addie has decided that she is going to talk to Cole because her mother is afraid that Cole’s family, who own half the town, can make their life really hard. And I'm gonna get back to this in a moment because I have issues.

Anyway, Cooper finds out from his ex-fake girlfriend that she is working this internship with this TV personality and she's got Cooper an interview, but it has to be today, blah blah blah.

Meanwhile, Bronwyn and Nate go back to the theater that burned to find more evidence. But they’re shocked to discover the police are there. I mean, who ever heard of the police investigating arson? Then again, considering how Simon’s murder case went, I guess any sort of competency would be surprising. Fortunately, the local convenience store has a camera pointed toward the building. Bronwyn and Nate are able to trick a local convenience guy to step away from the camera feed just long enough for Bronwyn to take a photo of an image of that night. And why does she take the picture? Because somehow, while fast rewinding the camera footage, she was able to spot a blurry face in the window of the theater. *Sigh*.

The person is wearing the mask that Janae wore at the Halloween party. They go to Janae and ask her what happened to the mask. She tells them that she gave him to Chris, who is Cooper's ex-boyfriend. Janae goes to talk to Chris and Chris lets her know that he bought them at a party store. Everybody could have them. Because who would of guessed that a plastic mask could be massed produced? Also, Kris is trying to stay out of this, because he didn’t sign up for this shit. Good for you Kris.

At this time, Cooper is having his interview; but just before his interview starts, he is told that the watch that he is wearing isn't on brand and so he is told to take it off; which he does instead of just covering it up. And surprise, surprise, during the interview his wrist is revealed. And Simon Says is able to tell that Cooper doesn't have the watch on. So, there's going to be punishment; the punishment being that Vanessa will get a a photo Cooper wearing the watch. And then she will, you know, blast to it to her fans that Cooper has the watch. Also, there's this stupid subplot about getting Addy to become a cheerleader again by kidnapping her. Which, what the fuck?

So, just back up a bit. What I did forget to mention is that Addy talks to Cole and is having these hallucinations of Jake telling her to confess. And then she sees Jake’s mother and kind of agrees to get on social media to tell Jake to come back, blah blah blah. I mean, honestly, I know she feels guilty about accidentally killing somebody; but again, he tried to frame her for murder.

Maeve, long story short, is able to put things together and she figures out that Jake is in the refrigerator and she decides to help the group. And so she and Janae get together and everybody goes to this party that is spreading awareness for Jake because they wanted to show…something about find the truth and justice for a known murder? I’m not sure Vanessa really understands what’s going on. And at the end of the party, it looks like Addy's going to tell everybody that she killed Jake, but basically tells everybody that Jake killed Simon (which was already public knowledge) and that Jake should stay away forever. Also Maeve, be the only smart one of the bunch, is able to get the name of the text name of the person who sent Vanessa the photo. No surprise, it's a dummy account. Also, the detective that fucked everything up last season is back and is working with Jake's brother to find Jake and she believes that the group is hiding something.

And this is where I have a problem with this show and what I mean the writers want it both ways. On the one hand, you have the fact that the writers wanted to create a list of possible suspect and what better suspects then those who continuously hound The Murder Club with question about Jake. This also adds to the drama (or it should) because it would mean the group is actively trying to make sure that they’re not caught in their own lie.

And all of this would have been great drama….if not for the Xbox. See, on the other side of this, the writers also wanted this idea that the group is getting on with their lives after being exonerated in Simon’s death. So, you have the conversation Simon recorded on the Xbox; which, let’s face it, pretty much is the only evidence needed as it systematically lays out the who, what, when, where, and why of Simon’s murder. Add to the fact that Jake literally took the Xbox out of Simon’s room, well….

So, why is this a problem? Well, to use an example, let’s take a look at what’s going on between Addy and Cole. Addy’s mother tells Addy she needs to talk to Cole because Cole’s family owns half the town and they can make life really difficult for Addy and her mom. Now, if we were in a situation where there was just the written confession; I might be able to see the mom’s point. After all, Cole could easily spin a story about how there’s no proof in the murder, that they don’t know if Jake wrote the confession, and that he doesn’t understand why Addy won’t help as this could benefit her too. Which, in the eyes of the public, could easily have people turn against Addy. Cole could also use his family connections to make their lives miserable.

But with the tape, it’s not even a question. Jake killed Simon. Jake killed Simon and let others take the fall for his actions. Even more, and this is something that seems to have been forgotten in the series, Simon also comes from a prominent family and his mother was the Mayor. Is it still possible that Cole’s family could use connections to make life miserable? Sure, but if I were a police officer or a judge and I had to choose to help the powerful family with the son who’s wanted for murder at the risk of pissing of the powerful family of the victim…well, the optics look bad if I choose the murderer.

But, let’s say Cole is able to find someone who wants to commit political suicide and help out Cole’s family. Well, there’s still the court of public opinion. And, as we see with Vinessa, social media can be a huge rallying cry. Addy or Addy’s mother could easily put out a post saying that she’s trying to move on with her life now that the truth has come out about Simon’s death. However, Addy can’t move on because, instead of letting her deal with the trauma of the last few months, Jake’s family has been hounding her with calls (and even following her home) demanding that she help them find the person who tried to ruin her life. And then put out something about what is this family allowed to harass a teenager like this.

And the same thing is true about Vanessa and the Detective. All three of them can believe that The Murder Club isn’t telling the truth. But all of them should be working under the parameters that Jake killed Simon and that actively pursuing The Murder Club maybe be detrimental to finding the answers; especially if it looks like they are actively harassing the group. Instead, we have this weird (and unbelievable) dynamic where everyone (including the parents, the principal, and the police) knows that Jake killed Simon and yet seems to be just fine in allowing three people to actively harass and spread false information about the four teenagers. And given the fact that having these allegations constantly brought up could be detrimental to the teenagers, I’m really surprised we haven’t at least seen Bronwyn’s and Cooper’s family try to put a stop to what is going on.

#one of us is lying #one of us is lying spoilers #bronwyn rojas #maeve rojas #cooper clay #addy prentiss #nate mccauley #janae matthews

3 notes · View notes