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swanqueensalad · 1 year

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i’m not sure if you’ve already done something similar but i was wondering if you had any hc for regina’s relationship with clothes? i just feel like there’s so much to dig into with all her mother’s bullshit and how she was raised to value appearances, how performative a lot of her outfits were as the evil queen, the shift in how she dresses after the curse breaks, her and emma’s opposite approaches to how they dress themselves. idk i just feel like if anybody else would also have thoughts on this, it would be you

anon i am literally in love with you for sending me this ask. honestly why have i never done a post on this before!!! this is SO interesting to me!! clothing is definitely a hugely important part of regina's character and journey over the course of the show.

PSA: this turned into a literal play by play biography of regina's life through clothing. ur welcome. also this is totally unedited, we die like men

I think clothing means a lot of different things to Regina. I think she both revels in and resents the glitz and glamour, uses it as her shield, weaponry and armour but also it can be very vulnerable for her... it's a lot

and I agree that, unfortunately like many things with Regina, we have to start by tracking back to her childhood and how Cora raised her

Regina is a young noblewoman in the enchanted forest, and much of her 'value' to her family would lie in making an advantageous marriage. Layer on top of that Cora's absolute single minded determination for success, social climbing and for Regina to become queen one day and you just KNOW appearances were a huge deal when Regina was growing up (we see this threaded through canon too, in Cora magically changing Regina's clothes/hair/makeup for her)

to Cora, Regina's beauty was always a valuable tool she could use, but her brutal ambition would have led to absolute perfectionism.

After all, sweetheart, queens have to be perfect.

I think even when Regina was a very young child, a huge amount of weight was put onto her clothing and how she was presented.

I can imagine Cora choosing elaborate outfits for her infant daughter, dressing her up like a doll and making sure the ribbons in her hair matched exactly, being absolutely critical of everything to ensure her child was the best dressed, the most perfect

And I think this hugely impacted Regina's childhood. Cora would have allowed Regina very little freedom, partially because she was conditioning her to behave like a queen (or just like an obedient pawn for her to do whatever she wanted with) but also partially because Regina literally could not risk getting messy or dirty.

Image is everything, darling.

As child, Regina couldn't really play because she would ruin her dress, or her hair, or scuff her shoes. She had no choice but to occupy herself with the 'proper' pursuits that her mother approved of, because she physically couldn't do anything else. No running, tree climbing, flower picking etc for tiny Regina. Lots of sitting quietly and looking pretty, even as a child.

I can definitely see Cora showing Regina off from an early age, dressing her up like a doll, inviting other noblewomen for tea and dressing Regina better than any of their children, making her sit nicely and quietly.

If Regina were to be 'bad' and accidently dirty her dresses, mess up her hair etc. I think Cora would definitely punish her quite severely. because from day one, Cora was drilling into Regina that her appearance was one of the most valuable and worthwhile things about her. Queens have to be perfect.

And of course, little Regina doesn't want to be a queen, she just wants to go play in the meadow with the other children, but she wants to be a good girl more than anything, because mother hurts her when she's not.

As Regina grows older, I think Cora becomes far more critical of her appearance. A doll like, cute child is far easier to keep 'perfect' than an adolescent girl, and it's also all a huge control tactic for Cora to keep Regina affection starved and desperate to please her. So there would be backhanded comments, the constant pressure to be more beautiful. The feeling started to grow in Regina that she was pretty, just not pretty enough, never enough.

Ik I've talked about this before here (TW for EDs) but I headcanon Cora as absolutely fucking up a young Regina's body image and relationship with food too, controlling/restricting her diet. So I can imagine that dress fittings became a source of enormous stress and pain for an adolescent and teenage Regina.

In the enchanted forest, as a noble, all of Regina's clothes were likely hand made from expensive fabrics. Cora would spare no expense for making her daughter the most fashionable, beautiful, ideal young lady. So there was enormous pressure on Regina to 'wear the clothes well' and to keep them pristine. But these fittings would have been hell, because Cora definitely was stood in the corner, never ever asking Regina's opinions or how she feels in the clothes, but only ever criticizing the fit, asking if her corset could be laced tighter, and despairing over tiny mistakes.

Despite all this though, I do think a young Regina enjoyed clothing and fashion in a way. As much as her mother made it absolute hell, Regina really did like the few dresses she was allowed to have a say in and I think she always liked pretty things, she just wished she was allowed to like them on her own terms.

I think the white dress we see her wearing in a lot of her early EF flashbacks was one of her favourites because it's pretty but also simple and comfortable, something she would have chosen herself and just luckily happened to be considered suitable by her mother.

I've written about it in this fic but I also think Cora would have been actively sexualising Regina from a young age, trying to make her as appealing to suitors and other noblemen as possible to get more power and advantage. This would make Regina very uncomfortable, and I think at this point she really resented all this elaborate clothing and heavy jewelry.

There's also something really interesting in canon ouat costume design I want to discuss because I've never seen it discussed before: in 2x015 The Queen Is Dead, we get a glimpse of the fashions in Leopold's kingdom around the time Regina and Snow were about to meet for the first time. We see Queen Eva, clearly an empowered adult woman, wearing a tightly fitting deep red dress covered in jewels. Meanwhile the ten (ish?) year old Snow White wears a more appropriately girlish frock with puffy sleeves, a simple bodice and full skirts. Around this time, we mostly see Regina dressed in the latter style, implying she is still being dressed and presented more as a young lady/maiden than an adult. The blue dress Cora puts her in to meet King Leopold is a very similar design to Snow's, with full sleeves and skirt; her riding coats are also loose and puffy sleveed; the dress she wears at dinner when married to Leopold is full sleeved and skirted too; the white dress we see her in several times is the exception, but looser still than Eva's style.

I believe the earliest we see Regina in that adult style dress is in Fruit of the Poisonous Tree, when she's years into her marriage and about to kill her husband and seize power. This is a moment of empowerment for her shown through costume, and a clear shift she's gone from girl to woman, which is actually disgusting considering this is at the end of her marriage to the elderly king.

My point here is that I think throughout her marriage the world still saw Regina as a child to a degree, a poor replacement for Eva, and Regina was still very much a young woman, who did not feel any older or freer. Her marriage kept her trapped and unempowered, just like her mother had.

She always had to be beautiful and perfect, and this pressure was amped up even more as queen. I can see a newly married Regina trying so hard in the first few years to always be perfect, constructing elaborate outfits, hair and makeup just like Cora taught her, to try and be good enough for Leopold, to make him more kind to her, to make anyone at court notice her at all, but it never works. She is still only ever objectified or sidelined or both.

When she begins training with Rumple, we start to see Regina developing a new sense of style: she begins wearing darker colours, to mimic her mentor in a way. I think this is very indicative of her mental state, how easily influenced she was, how much she wanted to latch onto this one source of potential hope and power in her life.

But this was of course a transitional period, and I do think it's interesting that we see her in 1x11, seducing Sidney and killing her husband finally wearing one of the long, tight, elegant 'adult' dresses Eva wore as queen. This is when Regina really steps into her own power.

Once again to refer briefly to the same fic I think in the few years leading up to this (remember, as I love to remind everyone, her entire horrific marriage was probably around 8 years at least), Regina began to learn more of her seduction politics, and started to understand how she could manipulate the way men behaved towards her. She started to fully understand what her mother meant, how to choose a dress for the right situation, how to choose a neckline, a lipstick shade, a way of walking and talking.

I think this took her a while to stop feeling disgusted by. At some point, the rush of even this tiny way of grabbing power was exhilarating, long overdue. At some point, that stopped making her skin crawl.

Starting to wear darker colours was I think a way of rebelling against her past self. I really think throughout her reign as the 'evil queen', Regina had to loathe her younger, innocent self because that was the version of her that got hurt, used, raped, manipulated, brokenhearted. It was easier to hate that version of herself, to blame herself for being weak and stupid (Mother's voice in her head, always) than to fully feel the pain she was still in. So the pastels and whites of her youth were completely gone. She buried them, and the girl who loved them, as far as she could.

It also seems like pastels were commonplace in the Enchanted Forest based on every extra in every ballroom scene ever, and at this point Regina was so reliant on her attractiveness as a form of power that wearing dark colours and deep jewel tones was a way to ensure she always stood out, always caught the eye.

As her reign grew, I think the Evil Queen costumes grew more and more extravagant as a show of wealth and power to dazzle the commoners and intimidate all the nobles. Regina was showing them with her style choices that she was in a league of her own. And the more she leaned into it, the glitz and glamour, all the diamonds and makeup, the things she hated as a young girl, the safer she feels. The more hidden. The more superhuman.

The Evil Queen was a physical symbol as well as an idea of who Regina was. I think of it almost like how celebrities have public persona, sexualised and stylised, instantly recognisable and fastidiously designed. I think this made Regina, a physically small woman, much smaller than all the other older, male leaders and rulers, feel protected, confident and powerful.

(I think it's also a defense against the fact that as a very young girl Regina was sexualised by her own mother for a much older man, for his whole court I suppose. Regina has always been taught, through her mother's words and actions, that her beauty and attractiveness correlate to her worth, power and usefulness. And now she sort of enacts that on herself to keep herself safe. Because they can't sexualise her if she's sexualised herself first, they can't be using her if she's letting them and using their lust for her to her own ends. Her beauty keeps her safe. Queens have to be perfect, Regina.)

When we get to Storybrooke, I think it translates somewhat. In this world, political figures are the power symbols, and unfortunately in this world too, female politicians are more successful if they are polished and beautiful. Or so Regina would see it.

Queens have to be perfect, sweetheart.

She upkeeps the Evil Queen thing where she has a recognisable image, this polished perfect professional thing. Though this world is on a much smaller scale, Regina's mindset is not at all. She would never be seen out of the house without a perfect face of makeup, without perfectly done hair, manicured nails, the right outfit, the right shoes. Because queens have to be perfect. You can't show them a single crack in your armour.

It isn't all a chore though. I think Regina really does enjoy her own style, especially in Storybrooke as it is so different to anything Cora or Leopold would have had her wearing, and because it's part of a world she made for herself, there's more of a sense of independence and ownership of her own style. I think she has a really nice sense of routine in doing her makeup and hair, which is good for her too.

But still in Storybrooke, we see Regina using her attractiveness, using seduction as a often reached for tool in her arsenal.

And on the other hand we have Emma.

Now, this is a Regina post but the ask did specify and I do find it interesting and want to discuss, so I'll give a much briefer overview of my headcanons about Emma and her style.

Off the bat I'll say I consider 'Emma's style' as season 1 and 2 Emma. (I'm not going to analyse the straight-girl-style-ification of Emma Swan in the later seasons bc that's another story and also just Bad storytelling imo)

Skinny jeans, boots, tanks, plaid, leather jackets, beanies, baseball shirts. She's mostly casual, can be a bit edgy, a bit lesbian swagger, a bit teenage boy (at times). Sometimes she does a winged liner, sometimes nothing. And she dresses with nothing else in mind but what makes her feel confident and cool and herself.

Because Emma as a kid never really had the freedom to pick her own clothes. The homes got a lot of donations, and sometimes there were cool things she could grab a hold of if she managed to beat the older kids to it, but a lot of the time she was just in whatever hand me downs she could get. Not ideal for a young queer girl trying to work out her identity.

So when she started to establish a life for herself, the first time she buys her red leather jacket etc, these moments are really meaningful to Emma because it's more about being able to own her sense of self and stand on her own two feet in a stable way rather than just being about the clothes.

Which is so beautiful, because it just goes to show that once again Regina and Emma are complimentary opposites. Clothes were never important in Emma's life, so when she gets the chance, she just likes being able to wear whatever the fuck she wants, to never really worry about it, and to feel good. To Regina, clothes were always enormously important and so a great deal of thought and preparation goes into everything she wears.

I think it is interesting the way they interact in this case, because they are so different, and they both find the other one so hot, and I think they also both admire how different it is for the other.

Regina in denial would definitely consider Emma's casualness to be improper and lazy, but deep down, and eventually openly once they grow closer, she knows she admires her freedom and fearlessness.

Meanwhile Emma thinks Regina is the hottest woman on the planet (she's right) and appreciates how perfectly her gf puts outfits together, how good her makeup and skincare collection is.

But Emma can also see the other side of it for Regina too, is one of the few people (perhaps because of her own history with clothes) who can see the strain there. The control and obsession with her own appearance, the perfectionism.

And I think Emma is really good for her in that sense. Emma's own freedom and confidence is a good influence. Because gradually, as they get together and their relationship develops, Regina is able to let down a little more of that mask, bit by bit.

Letting Emma see her with wet hair, her natural curls straight out of the shower. Or in her robe with no makeup on in the mornings. And as they build their life together, Regina finds this immense relief in having someone who sees all of her in every state.

It's not as scary as it once seemed.

And Emma thinks Regina is just as beautiful in leggings and fresh faced as she is with makeup and an expensive dress. (Once again, she is right). This is groundbreaking to Regina, this idea that she can be loved and valued without upkeeping her definition of 'perfection'. That she could be enough as she is, for Emma.

That she is enough, as she is.

And of course, she doesn't always believe that. How can she, after the life she has lived? But she's working on it, and when these feelings of immense vulnerability and insecurity in herself arise, she is able to voice them to Emma (sometimes with a bit of struggle) and Emma holds space for her, listens without judgement, calls Cora a dumb bitch (sometimes) and assures Regina that she is the most beautiful person Emma's ever seen, but that her beauty is not why she fell in love with her, and it's not what makes her worthy.

And slowly, I think Regina starts to get back to finding more joy in fashion. More appreciation, in the way her younger self always wanted.

#i fucking love analysing costumes in media #and i fucking love historical/fantasy fashion #AND i fucking love analysing regina mills #this is the best post ever #christmas came early for miss salad #regina mills meta #regina mills analysis #ouat analysis #regina mills headcanons #regina mills #swan queen #sq #swan mills family #swan queen headcanons #emma swan #fuck king leopold #tw cora #tw leopold #cora mills

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late-nite-scholar · 1 month

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Aug 14 (Day 3)- Ghost/Hungry

Thoughts of the Nerevarine, Rilenna, as they prepare to go up Red Mountain for the final confrontation. Prompts by @tes-summer-fest

Dunmer Nerevarine who is not Nerevar.

Warnings- none

Wordcount- ~650

***

I’m haunted by a ghost. I never see him, never hear him. He doesn’t fling things around or write strange messages in blood. But he’s constant, ever-present. He dogs every step and action and word I say.

I can’t get rid of him.

The worst part is that he’s taking over my life. I have a mission now, and it’s basically picking up the pieces and cleaning up a mess he left behind. Sorting out the ramifications of things that happened thousands of years ago. They gave me his ring. Now they call me by his name. Everyone does. Even his friends. Even his enemies. My own name is becoming lost, pushed away and forgotten.

I want to scream at them. I want to grab them by the shoulders and tell them: MY NAME IS RILENNA! But they don’t hear it. All they see is him. To them, I am him, somehow returned after all this time. I’m the one who checks all the boxes for their prophecy, even if they spit at me and call me outlander. N’wah. They like that word. It doesn’t matter that I’m as Dunmer as they are. I’m not from here, so I don’t count. Rilenna is not welcome here. Only Nerevar is.

The only problem is that I’m not Nerevar. Never was, never will be. I was supposed to think I was, but something fucked up. Even Azura can’t explain exactly what went wrong. So I’m still Rilenna, but now with Nerevar’s memories stuck in my head. Now I can’t get rid of him no matter where I go. The ghost has found himself a home inside my brain.

Maybe it would’ve been easier. Maybe if I wasn’t so stubborn. I could’ve let go, let his memories take over. I could’ve been the hero, the Nerevar that everyone wants. People would laud me and bow to me and I wouldn’t feel like an impostor. I wouldn’t feel that resentment at being called his name. I’d feel like I knew what I was doing, rather than grasping at straws and hoping I didn’t make things any worse. I wouldn’t look in the mirror, desperately hoping to still see myself reflected back at me, and wanting to smash it every time I feel like there’s some glimpse of him in my face.

I wish I still knew who I was, what I was.

I wish I had never taken this ring.

I wish Azura had chosen someone else.

I wish the human emperor had sent someone else.

I wish I’d never come to Morrowind.

I wish this ghost would stop haunting me.

I wish I could still just be Rilenna.

But all that’s left now is the mountain, and the figure in the gold mask. He’s waiting for him. He’s going to be disappointed, this Dagoth Ur. Because all he’s going to get is me. He’s waited all this time for someone who’s not coming back. Who sent instead some n’wah Dunmer that doesn’t even know how to be a Dunmer. That’s pretty cold. I won’t blame him for smiting me on the spot. At least then I’d be free of all this.

I look up at the mountain. It’s time. One way or another, it all ends here. Two souls, trapped by these accursed circumstances, destined to meet beneath the mountain. Destined to fight, betrayed and abandoned by ones that were supposed to love them. I wish I could run, wish we could run. What if we just ran together? What if we left all of this behind, abandoned destiny and prophecy as we’ve been abandoned?

But we can’t. It’s been too long. The threads of this cursed tapestry are too tightly woven. So I start up the mountain, tools forged by a long-dead people in my hands, to play it out. We have no other choice. Not in this place where destiny is made.

#tesfest24 #tesfest #the elder scrolls #tes 3 #morrowind #day 3 #prompt #ghost #dunmer nerevarine #oc: rilenna #angst #red mountain #thoughts #nerevarine

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svnoohe4rts · 2 years

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god, life update? (and answering everything!! lmao this is kinda a mess, please bare with me </3)

uhmm, uni is fine, last week was hell, i had so much stressful stuff to do, but im okay now!

my crush, idk, im too much of a pussy to talk to him, he was talking with some girl today, and im like 🤕🤕🤕, eh it's whatever (is it tho lmao), ill be fine

im so glad that u are doing good, i've missed u sm :((

i agree new sabrina carpenter album is rly great!!! and im a swiftie!! im glad u enjoyed the new album - makes me happy!!

twitter is such a crazy place,, maybe im just lucky with the clips but don't worry, i always remember to send u the good ones, i gotchu babe

omg no fucking way u wrote that hee fic with me in ur mind!! im spechless bro bro bro is this u proposing to me 👉👈🤭

I SAW THE GAME OVER TEASER and was waiting for so long to see part 1 and it was so worth it btw, and that's why i followed and then we kinda started taking lmao cuz i send u some stuff (that was me shooting my shot)

ALSO HEE IS UR BIAS NOW??? MOM I MADE IT!!! HELL YEAH, WELCOME TO THE DARK SIDE!!!

-mf heetiddies anon ily ily ily ily ily ily ♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

i’m glad uni is better now </3 i never applied to uni bc i know i wouldn’t be able to handle the stress that comes w it (or because i failed high school … we’ll never know) but i’m proud of u heetiddy anon for managing,, ur doing amazing <3

bro i get u, i hate speaking to ppl especially ppl i’m interested in BUT !!! i think u should still shoot ur shot .. fuck the girl he was talking to she’s nothing compared to u heetiddy anon ?! i’m here cheering for u babe <3

ur a swiftie ??? wow what’s happening to me suddenly i’m also a swiftie ????? man how did this happen 😦 no all jokes aside i literally love her latest album & i’ll be listening to her a lot more now that i know ur a swiftie <333

LMFAOOO RIGHT maybe i don’t have to be on twitter since u send me all the good stuff ?? like my twitter is so dry it’s just engenes fighting & every now and then i see a hee thread but other than that IT’S DEAD i hate twitter i used to run a stan acc on twitter 2013-2016 but i haven’t been on there since then :’) #5sosstan

U FOUND ME THROUGH GAME OVER ????? damn heeseung rly blessed me with that one ,, also SORRY FOR MAKING U WAIT SO LONG FOR THE FIRST PART i had to finish my sunghoon fic first but bro i had the first part all done and written like a whole month before i even published the last part of the hoon fic </3 being obsessed with heeseung things ig

can u imagine if i never posted that heetiddies post ??? and u never shot ur shot ???? no i don’t even wanna think about it idk what i’d do without u my heetiddy anon </3

#mf heetiddies anon

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undermattsun-archive · 4 years

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japan national team x reader | w.c 1.3k

a/n: omg guys here’s the super cute epic collab fic i made w all my frieednsies <33 we all worked superrrr hard on this so pls don’t be mean!!!!!!!!! pls enjoy its xoxox and don’t forget to follow everyone here on this kidnapped by hq collab <33333333333

warnings: not proofread bc who does that xD (guys pls free me from this hell i’m in so much pain i didn’t even look at this i skimmed over it i left it as is, gg)

Read this while lsitening to the best song evar!!!!!!!!!!!1 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a_cXhBy78T4&ab_channel=JonasBrothers if you dont listen whil reading ill eat ur family MONCH MONCH MONCH

i go dwnstars, yelling ‘by mum!’ bfor laceing up my wite convrrse hightops (NOT blck becauz u cant sharpi on it) wth 1d lyrics scribbled on it. i rmb to draw a directioner infinite sign on mywrist. perfect, i think to mysdlf.

I never thot i would get to go to the olympics all the way on the other side of the planet in toky o japan! It was a dream come true for a simple, average, run of the mill girrl like me, who is 5’7 with naturally wavy hair, that’s not curly or strait and eyes as blue as the dark blue part of the ocean.

I been dreaming of the olypoics since fetus. I just knew I had to be here, but I never thought it would actually happen. The only thing that would make it better is if I had a smezxy smexy boyfrwend! (A/n: Tee-hee! Maybe even two! (Or five! <333) haha! Aren’t I so quirky? <3)

I’m Wearing A Mint Green Crop Top That Ties In The Front And Some Denim Shorts With Black Converse. I Don’t Need Makeup Because My Skin Is Naturally Smooth And Clear And My Lips Are Already Red #wokeuplikethis And I Listened Only To MCR And P!ATD On The Plane Ride. I Bet You Dont Know Who They Are, THey’re My Favorite Banxds And Are Super GOod And Like Underground Bands. (A/n: Okay But If You Don’t LIke Welcome TO THe BLack Parade GTFO Of My FIc I Don’t Need YOu Here xoxo)

ok so like,, im on my way to the olympics but then like, i get kidnapped !!! the car i was in was like super expensive and i cant see anything with the blindfold on. i hear voices of men all around me though, for like, a whole 30 minutes before they bring me somewhere and tie me up? "Take Her BLindfold off," one of them say, i hear. and im so nervous. but it's like a dream when they tug my blindfold off and im met with the prettiest emerald orbs ever looking back at me.

my stomach knotted in fear (more like an angry swarm of butterflies fluttering around ) i feel like screaming or squealing or both bc those eyes belong to someone so gorgeous . even more gorgeous than harry styles. hes like a god. i woukd so worship his foot. or something. (squee omg i can’t believe this is happening. i bet you wish that it was you huh?)

bro who tf has emerald orbs green eyes im blanking rn

^ yo i was gonna ask i cannot for the life of me remember who

his #afff14 sppheres peered into my soul i really just felt seen. i took a deep breath before fainting he was just so pretty. *one hours later* i woke upa nd saw the pretty viridescent peepers staring into mine. like he was literally two inches away from my face omg i could feel his minty breath on my lips it smelled so good.

“My name is atsumu miya,” he said gruffly, the gruffness in his voice so gravely. “And me and me mates here think yer the most gorgeous girl weve ever seen. I blink up at him, orbs gleaming amd full of tears.

“What do u mean, i’m just a normal quirky girl?” I say shakely, biting my lip. I bit my lip as the piss blond man spoke.

“You don’t know ur beautiful.” YOUR INSECURE DONT KNOW WHAT FOR YOUR TURNING HEADS WHEN YOU WAlk THROUGH THE DO OO OOOOOR

“U may be a normal quirky girl but ur OUR nroaml quirky girl now” his friend said with a deep voice. It was so deep that i almost thot it was like the ocean, he had curly balck hair and his eye were sooo mysterious (a/n i loooove sakusa i can’t believe him and his friends kindapped me omgggg XD)

“Stop it go away” osamu said (hee hee i can never remmber tell which twin is which LOL i think its osamuuu) “no u have to share” sakusa responded angrily. I starred at them and didn’t know what theyd do next!

I looked over to he side ans see sakura pulling out hand sanitizer passing it around to his teamates. The green orbed boys huff as they put it on. i wished i could see his whole face hes so sedy, look over here pretty girl, i gasp pulled from my thoughts by their captain kita walking into the room with his hands on his hips and was theat aran? “You look even better in peroiusn” aran said to me, walking over to me “how do you know who i am?” i ask.

“listen bbygurl...” he yealls, pulling out a chair to sit acros from me. “you dont get to ask the questions, we are your new masters, and you shall do as we say.” i gulp nervously, my stomach feeling like a sharkndao is happening inside. “we hope u will be worth every penny we payed foru.”

“M-m-m-masters?” my head felt like it was spinning in a teacup from disney land as i thought about what he just said to me. what did this mean? was i gooing to miss the olympics?? I wanted ot hate him with his super smug look on his face but i cant deny that he looks kind of hot and i’m into guys who look just like him,, the other guys r also relly attractive it makes my heart race. I look around trying to find answers when i make eye contact w a really really reall y tall guy who i thinks name is gao only to see another really really relly tall guy next to him,, hyakuzawa?

“what are yo going to do to me then?” ((*lenny face))

you ask, stomach bubbling. maybe i shoudnt have ateen that stale pizza earlier and washed it down with watermelon-lemon minute maid because now i felt like it was gonna come up. ((ew gross um tw vomit mention hehe)

“Dont worry were going to grab seme din din soon lil one,” one of them says. His name espapes me. Hes a ginger. They wont answer me for some reason and i suddenly miss my freedom when i would go to school (i go to an expesive private school for rich kids ahahah).

“WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO WITH ME??” i yell again batting my fists against the ginger but he doesnt even blink. Ive decided hes hot but in a short king kinda way. His hair reminded me of of like cheeto coloured fine thread woven into waves.,,, like the ocean xD (ans...this has an ocean theme)

sudenly there was another voice it was yalling “BOKE HINATA BOKER” i looked with my stricking dark blue orbs and there wasd inother pair of stricking dark blueor bs like the ocean and blck hair. his voicde was veryy deelp an sexxcy (a/n lololol i luv u gakeyama kun *w*)

theres suddenly a loud voice in ur ear screaming directly into ur eardrum " BAKA KAGYEAMA BAKA" (wtf our they communicating ???? ? ) i cringe at the yellign and another pair of strong arms bulls me away . i land against a hard, solid chest, i can feel the six pack thru his track Suit.

and then my alarm clock playin what makes u beatyful goes off n i woke up.

amen.

i rub my eyes wakng up, starrn into the mirror at my super borng brwn ugly eyes and brsh my equaly borng brwn hair. i lok up at m wall and see harey stylz and niallr starinf back at me on t walls. i sigh dreamily. they wud twll me my brwn uairs beatufil.

#i'm gonna kermit #my eyes hurt #my brain is dying #where am i #kidnapped by hq #tw wattpad

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yuri-shibuya · 3 years

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Are yall ready for arctic au tommy? Get ur arctic tommy off the presses ahahahah. Please give it some love, it’s crossposted here too for yall!!!

Summary:

Tommy was the heart of the kingdom. He was loved and he loved with his very being, always bright and smiling.

And because he was of the Arctic, he was raised to give what was due. He was no fool, even if he acted like it sometimes.

After all, that was how he was raised.

---- Or Tommy learned a few things in his life

(Arctic AU)

Tommy was an active child. He ran before he could walk and yelled before he could even talk. For a child born on the darkest night, when the Moon herself hit her apex, he was as bright and vibrant as the sun.

But Tommy was no fool.

He had learned three irrefutable truths throughout his life; three rules he had to follow no matter what.

These three rules were not taught, at least not by tutors, they were whispered to him at night when no one else was around and taught through actions. Tommy was not naive, no matter how much he was a child. He knew when secrets had to remain secrets.

He didn't survive this long by being naive, even as a child of the Arctic granted her protection.

So with only the stars marking his lessons, he studied these three truths as intensely as he studied his sword lessons.

First, never touch anyone unprotected. This was a truth he had learned after accidentally burning Wisp after he held on for too long. (He remembered how the older man had hissed, the shape of a splotchy little hand on his shoulder from where Tommy had clutched him as he was carried.)

This was a rule Wilbur whispered to him at the dead of night, when he was just a small babe (not that Tommy remembered). Later, his father reminded him, tucking gloves around his small hand, covering his skin.

"Be careful, Stardust." Phil murmured, hands gentle and sturdy as he gifted Tommy his very first pair of embroidered gloves. "You are a child of the Arctic, born of frost and snow."

His father had held him close, and Tommy stretched out his little palm over Phil's, comparing their hands. "Our hands are a gift from her, a mark we bear as proof that she protects us."

"But we are made of ice and wind, frost flowers and gentle flurries; and the Arctic is possessive."

Tommy in all his childish wonder looked back up at his father, "what does that mean?"

"It means she doesn't want others to touch us."

"But why?"

Tommy's father tucked him closer in his embrace. Tommy shivered. "I don't know, Stardust."

"That's dumb!"

"Careful with that thread, Tommy. That's no way to address her." Phil scolded gently, his finger tapping Tommy on the tip of his nose.

Tommy apologized and that was that. Phil pressed another kiss to Tommy's hair and tucked him in for the night. That morning after, the story about the Arctic was all but forgotten in favor of running and playing with Wilbur.

The second lesson he learned was that trust is earned, not given.This rule wasn’t one Tommy had ever really realized the importance of until he was about nine.

It wasn't as though he'd never seen it, with how his brother drew people like Schlatt and Techno to him, or the way his uncles could always reliably be seen by his father's side. But he still was a prince surrounded by people trying to please him.

That is, until he met Tubbo.

Tommy had seen him once before in passing, pointed out to him by Pete who wandered over by his side.

"That one should be interesting," the older man said with a mischievous grin. "He has promise, after all."

He looked up to the man his father considered his friend, salt and pepper hair blowing in the wind and mischievous eyes twinkling with something he couldn't name.

And Tommy was nothing if not curious. More so about the boy his father's old friend called "promising". Unfortunately, Tubbo was tired and Tommy was the last person he wanted to talk to after his long day. So when they finally met, Tommy had much to say to the boy who would spend time with him.

Tommy had imagined how they would play and perhaps prank the members of the castle. They would be fast friends, he decided, inseparable. He stayed still and quiet throughout the ceremony, as his uncles welcomed each recruit, as his father stood and echoed the sentiments; though he felt jittery and couldn't wait for the end.

He was convinced that they would be friends. That they would get past guard and protectee and said as much when they finally had a chance to meet, away from the public eye.

After an alarming amount of time silent, Tubbo had very kindly told him to fuck off, which was a first for the prince to hear, but had made sense, especially after their first meeting had ended in what could be kindly called a disaster.

This was a rule he learned slowly over time. A rule he learned through trial and error. A rule he knew in principle, with the old stories of how his uncles Wisp and Jordan seemed to be everywhere and how they appeared right by his father's side when he needed them, but not a rule he knew very well in principle. It took quite a bit of time, a year and a half in fact when the two finally became friends.

And Tommy had been right.

They were the closest of friends, partners in crime in their own little quest to play pranks on the rest of the castle.

Last, Tommy had learned that sometimes lying was needed. This was a rule that was hard to swallow.

Let it be known that in principle, Tommy hated lying; hated liars and hated their cloying smiles as they weaved untruths into their words. He hated it with a passion, hated how they would lie for their own personal gain. There was no use in it, no mutual benefit in it and no fun in it.

Lying was the coward's way to the hearth. It tied a thread so loosely that one tug at it would cause the whole tapestry to unravel. It was a waste of time and a waste of the precious little warmth they could get.

So this rule was hard to understand. It took far too long for Tommy to understand that sometimes it was necessary. That sometimes for them to live, they must lie to survive.

It was an unspoken truth that as much as the Arctic was as no nonsense they could get, they also loved spinning tales and weaving stories. It was an unspoken truth that as much as those of the Arctic abhorred the flowery language of the tropic, they practiced the same language when speaking to others, hiding in plain sight.

It was an unspoken truth that the Arctic were hypocrites.

Tommy hated liars, hated them with all his being. It was very much a tropic mentality, to twist words when a simple answer could be said instead. (He didn't realize that was only because Phil wanted to be truthful with them). He couldn't understand why Wilbur had to schmooze with the more tropic merchants, plastering a smile and a laugh when he knew that all his brother wanted was to kick them out of the castle. He didn't understand why he had to lie about where Wisp would go at times or about why his brother would tell him he was going on an adventure when he knew he wasn't.

He didn't understand until he saw for himself.

Tommy wasn't naive nor an idiot. There was no place for that in the Arctic. He had survived so long for a reason, no matter how much Phil and Wilbur and the rest of his family had tried to keep him in the dark about it.

Tommy wasn't an idiot.

But he still felt like one when he overheard Wilbur whispering prayers to the stars to keep Tommy safe after an assassination attempt. He still felt like one when Techno told him of the horrors he'd witnessed burning in the tropic. He had felt like one when Schlatt had uncovered a coup in the far edges of the empire.

He felt like one when Tubbo told him how old he truly was, how young he truly was. How he’d been starving. How signing up was his last chance. How his best friend had lied on his papers; forged papers in fact. How his whole family knew in an instant but he was never informed. How his best friend could have died and he would never have gotten the chance to meet him.

The Arctic was filled with hypocrites and Tommy was one of them.

He didn't care that Tubbo had lied. He didn't care that he had to lie. He didn't care how many lies his family had to make.

He didn't care about that.

This third rule was the hardest to swallow. It was the hardest for its necessity. The Arctic was cold and ruthless and its people the same. To protect his friends, his family, lying and untruths were a must to survive.

---

Tommy had learned three rules throughout his life. Some he knew in an instant, others had taken a while to understand.

But he wasn't an idiot.

Tommy is the second son of the Arctic after all, gifted with power that no one could understand and taught by the cold winds and night skies.

#arctic au #tommyinnit #tubbo #wilbur soot #philza #goodness i cant believe im writing blockman fic hahah

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sirescumbag · 4 years

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i missed u, ur art, and ur essay-long responses to anons. welcome back :)

SHIT

SORRY I FEEL LIKE IM IN THE APPRECIATION BODYSLAMMING OLYMPICS AND I HAVE 0 STAMINA

Anon: i missed yo-

me: stop right there. storp right there i’m gonna faint. oh shit i’m gonna faint oh fuck it’s gonna happen i can’t i can’t. i can’t

it’s all over for me. i am at the point where i am red threading conspiracy theories are you all being anons on purpose so yall can serial hit and run me with affection and i shake my fist weakly at you like dammit!! dammit!!!!!! tell me your name and number and address so i can serenade you at your window ahhhh fuckkkk they’re gone :,,,,)

ohhh god lololol anon you’ve hit the nail on the head :,,,) some ppl are like, human instinct is we are social animals,, i feel like my human instinct went like, be a social animal, AND-- when someone compliments you, write an essay. gr8 going, brain lol it’s like habit now :,)

honest, was NOT expecting a welcome of any kind but holy shit. the kindest welcome backs I’ve ever witnessed, I’m incredibly grateful :,,) i missed all you anons and nonanons too!!!!!!!!!! fffuck idk if i can even convey how sweet it is to see and hear from ppl like this againf :,,,,)

anon, you are welcome. The welcomest of welcomes. it is an honor to be missed by you :,,) your presence is a lovely thing, and it is always a gift to know you have offered your kind words to welcome my own.

#ask #your name in my brain is #anon the lowercase and smiley face giving heart throb of 2020 #i CANN'TTTT #you guys missed me?????? i can't. i can'nt #you dastardly anons are all ganging up on me and I ccAN'Tt

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sad-sweet-cowboah · 5 years

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Prompt #59 with modern Arthur showing modern Reader Dom/Sub play for the first time 🤤 (Arthur being the dom) smut pls 🥺 (also I sent one angsty prompt before and saw ur post and i just wanna say I'm sorry I'm just a sad bich lol 😭)

Number 59 (reverse, reverse!):

Ooooooh lord this one’s exciting! Also, it’s okay about the angst. I was just hoping for some more variety, lol. I also got a little carried away with this one, NO RAGRETS.

“Get at me bad girl~!”

You swayed your hips to the melody, rubbing the sponge in a rhythmic motion against a dirty dish.

“Oooh work me baby, shakin’ it the way I like!”

You rinsed the plate off and placed it in the drying rack, your body rocking in a wave to the beat.

“I’m ready to be bad, I need a bad girl!”

You’d grabbed another dirty dish to work on. With the music loud and the water running, you were oblivious to the surroundings.

“Get at me, bad girl!”

The warmth of strong hands wrapped around your waist. The initial surprise wore off instantly as you relaxed onto a well-muscled torso.

“Havin’ fun, sweetheart?” a voice rumbled with a laugh, his lips tickling your ear.

“Of course,” you giggled, turning your head to greet him with a sultry kiss. “Welcome home, by the way.”

“Glad to be home.” he murmured, resting his hand on your cheek. His flesh was cool to the touch after having been outside, the smell of winter air still fresh on his clothes.

You turned around to face him, pressing yourself into the soft threads of his sweater. You always liked the smell of him; leather and nature. The scruff of his stubble tickled your forehead as he pressed his lips to it. Despite the background noise, it was peaceful in his arms. It always was in his presence.

He moved his mouth down, gently brushing along the bridge of your nose, kissing the tip, before meeting your lips again. There was a hint of passion behind it, locking your face with his hand as he held your jaw. His other arm gripped you closer, pressing you to his body. You felt his hand give a gentle squeeze to your ass.You gave a soft moan in response, a fire erupting deep in your body. An unexpected notion, though a welcoming one.

He pulled back an inch, expressing a low chuckle.

“Arthur?” you questioned lowly.

“You wanna be bad?” he whispered to you. “Or do you wanna be good?”

You blushed hard, though a smooth grin appeared on your lips. “How about we find out?”

He matched your grin with a smile of his own. Reaching down, he gripped your thighs and you immediately responded with jumping up, wrapping your arms and legs around him. He carried you with ease, turning off the water and abandoning the partially done dishes in favor of fun.

You’d reached the bedroom in no time, him leaning down to place you on the bed. His hands never left you as he kissed you again, climbing onto the mattress as his mouth ravaged your lips. He practically trapped you underneath him, rough palms roaming your body. You flinched as his cold touch grazed your warm skin, sneaking underneath the fabric of your shirt. Breaking the kiss, he had pulled your shirt off, leaning down to place tender pecks along your midline.

With nimble expertise, he had your pants off within seconds, leaving you in just your bra and panties, though he was still fully dressed. You reached to start on him, only to have him grasp your hands. He smiled at your whine of protest.

“Hang on, sweetheart,” he said to you. “I wanna do somethin’ different.”

This piqued your interest. Soon forgetting about your restraint, you asked, “Like what?”

Releasing your hand, he took hold of your chin once again. His gaze bore deep into your eyes with such intensity that you had to keep yourself from looking away. “I wanna dominate you, darlin’. If that’s okay.”

Dominate? Like, a dom/sub routine? The mere thought sent a current of electricity through your system, tingling your every nerve, settling down below. It was always a secret fantasy of yours, though never outwardly admitting it to Arthur. You were afraid he’d refuse. Knowing that he wanted to do the same was a thrill of its own.

“Y-yes,” you answered, voice quivering with excitement. “Please be my dom, Arthur!”

A smirk formed on his face as he leaned down to kiss you again, deep and passionate as his tongue worked against yours. He held it for a long moment, you lost in the heat of the moment as you could feel the fabric of your panties slowly becoming damp.

He pulled back, using his teeth to pull at your bottom lip. “You call me Sir, or Mr. Morgan. You understand?”

“Yes, sir.” you answered with definite respect.

“Good girl,” he cooed, running his hand along your cheek. His eyes were soft. “I may get rough with ya, so you let me know if you ain’t comfortable with somethin’. Red’s the safety word.”

You gave a nod in understanding.

“Good,” he rumbled, standing back up and working at his belt. You watched as he pulled his cock free, erect and standing at attention. “Come suck on it.”

You wordlessly sat up and sunk to the floor, positioning yourself at his feet. Staring at the length at eye height, you leaned forward and licked the head. Upon hearing a soft moan from your new master, you began to slowly engulf him in your mouth.

His hand took its place on the back of your head, prompting you to take him further. Your head bobbed slowly at first, soaking the shaft with ease. You pressed the underside of him with your tongue, earning a deep groan.

More pressure was applied to your head, and you bobbed faster. The sound of his pleasure sent a thrill through you, responding in a hum along his length. His hips shuddered slightly from the vibration.

“Sweetheart, I’m gonna fuck your mouth.” He breathed, wrapping your hair around his hand.

You gave another hum in response to voice your approval. He held your head firmly, bucking himself forward.

You held yourself, forcing down a gag that crept up from your chest. You felt him hit the back of your throat, though keeping himself restrained to not hurt you. A string of swears slid from his mouth as he continuously thrust. He praised you and pet your hair, keeping up for another moment before coming to a stop.

“Ya took me well, darlin’.” he purred, pushing stray locks of hair from your face.

You would smile if your mouth wasn’t full of him at the moment, though you cast your eyes up, meeting his with appreciation. A half smile formed on his lips as he pulled from you, releasing your head.

Sitting still, your hands curled into fists resting lightly on your thighs. Your focus was on him, waiting to see what command was next. He gestured for you to return to the bed and you did, sitting on the edge expectantly. He rounded over to your side, promptly opening your drawer and digging out your personal magic wand. A smirk graced his face as he walked back over to you.

Curiosity bloomed, eyeing the purple rod in his hand. He pressed it into your grip, spoken with, “I wanna see you cum from this.”

With a short nod, you leaned back and began to shimmy your underwear off.

“Nuh uh, sweetheart. Keep those on.”

You blinked and gave him a look of questioning, though met it with silent expectancy. You didn’t wonder further as you spread your legs, switching the machine on and holding it to yourself.

A jolt of pleasure shot through you, expressing itself in a low moan. You’d only ever used this alone; whenever Arthur was away for a few days and you needed release. He knew about it, of course, as he was the one who bought it for you. This was however a first, breaking it out for some fun for the both of you.

Despite the strong vibrations rocking your very core, the thin cotton proved just enough of a barrier to experience it in full. Oh how you wanted to move it, though you weren’t sure Arthur would approve. You pressed it harder against your clit, your legs twitching from the sensation that only strengthened from there.

You caught him staring at you with a hungry glare; his hand wrapped around his length, pumping lazily, pleasuring himself from watching you chase yours. Feeling flustered, you shut your eyes and threw your head back, letting your imagination take you the rest of the way.

The build was slow at first, though soon rushed along the more vulnerable you felt under Arthur’s watchful eye. Your free hand slinked across your chest, squeezing your breasts through your cups. Another moan escaped your throat, louder, as the fire burned intensely deep within you.

In mere seconds, your body sprung to life as your orgasm overtook you, every muscle tensing as ecstasy washed over you like a wave. Breathing heavily, you peered at Arthur again.

“Good girl,” he said, approaching you, stepping in between your legs. His hand brushed across your center, chuckling at the small gasp you gave from your hypersensitivity. You closed your thighs instinctively, though Arthur pried them apart with ease. “Don’t hide from me.”

His hand brushed against you again, touch lighter than a feather. “Absolutely soaked,” he continued with a pleased tone. His fingers pushed aside the fabric, sliding across your folds. “All for me.”

“Yes,” you moaned, your legs shuddering from his touch. “All for you, Mr. Morgan.”

A triumphant smile appeared on his face. He removed his sweater and shirt, exposing his perfect chest and abs. He then leaned forward, pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead. “I wanna tie you up.” he murmured against your skin.

Your eyes widened at this. “W-what?” you stammered.

“Bind your hands,” he continued, bringing his hips forward to slide his cock through your folds, teasing your clit. “Fuck ya like that.”

Your voice trembled with a small moan. “I…” you began, trying to think of how you felt about that. However, your mind was too addled by him. “Ah…”

“Don’t gotta if you don’t wanna,” he assured you, keeping up with his antics. He even prodded your entrance, threatening to enter, your body yearning for him. “But I wanna try.”

The picture was painted clear in your mind. Hands tied behind your back like a hostage while Arthur fucked you mercilessly. It instilled slight fear into your heart, though overwhelmed by excitement for something new. “O-okay.”

His lips moved down to yours, kissing you tenderly for a moment before standing up straight. He walked away to retrieve something, and came back with a black cloth in his hands. A bandanna that he used often, usually worn around his neck in the warmer months.

“I’ll start gentle, sweetheart,” he said softly. “Remember the safety word.”

You nodded silently.

Smiling down at you, motioned for you to turn over. Getting on your knees, he took your hands and moved them behind your back. He then wrapped the bandanna around your wrists to bind you securely. With an experimental tug, you found they were snug but not tight. This eased your already pounding heart somewhat.

He stood behind you, gently pushing you to relax into the bedsheets. As you pressed your face against the cool fabric, he once again tugged your underwear out of the way, finding your entrance with ease. Teasingly running his fingers along your clit once more, working a whine out of you before he sheathed himself in one smooth motion.

You sighed in delight, melting at the feeling of him filling you up. He began to thrust slowly, gently, running his hand along your exposed back. Though hindered in some movement, the new sensation was surprisingly even more exciting than you imagined.

Moaning into the blankets, you could only keep your ass up as he used you to his liking. He steadily grew quicker, harder, digging his fingers into the flesh of your hips. His groans filled the room. “That’s it, darlin’,” he mumbled to you. “God, ya look so good like this.”

You could only give a muffled whine in response, biting into the comforter as he fucked you with growing intensity. Your fingers flexed helplessly, wanting to grab hold of something, anything, to hold yourself down from the pleasure that filled your body.

The noise of your vibrator caught your attention, and before you could turn your head to look, the head was placed upon your clit. You let out a yelp of surprise, beginning to quiver from the stimulation.

“Cum for me, princess,” he growled. “But ask me ‘fore ya do.”

“Shit!” you hissed out, feeling your second climax too soon on the rise. Wrenched out from your body too quick for you to form the words, your legs gave out from underneath you, your heart racing and your chest heaving.

It was silent for a moment, you lost in your post orgasm bliss. Arthur however had stopped moving.

SMACK!

The sharp sting on your ass caused you to jump, giving another surprised cry. Turning your head to look at him from the side, “Ar-” you stopped yourself. “Sir?”

He leaned forward, pressing himself against you. “Told ya to ask me first,” he whispered in your ear. “You didn’t. So you got punished.”

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered. “It was too much.”

“Then we gotta train ya to hold it,” he responded, bringing his hips away and bucking into you with sudden fierceness. “Think you can do that for me?”

“Yes,” you groaned, holding back a gasp. “I will try.”

“That’s my girl.” he said, voice glowing with approval. His hand gently rubbed your ass cheek, the skin tender from where he slapped. His lips brushed against the nape of your neck, a soft gesture in contrast to the animalistic thrusts of his hips. Standing straight once more, he pulled out and flipped you on your back, gripping your legs before entering you again.

He didn’t hesitate to go fast this time, pounding you with abandon as he unleashed a loud, guttural groan. You threw your head back, singing out your pleasure as you wriggled, your hands wanting to instinctively grasp anything yet failing.

He released one leg to dip his hand down, circling his thumb along your bud. Though still slightly sensitive, you gave a louder moan. He watched your face, waiting for a reaction.

You released some swears, your legs twitching and trembling. You were glad it wasn’t your toy this time, allowing for a slower build. As it began the climb, Arthur’s words echoed in your head.

“Sir, can I p-please cum?” you asked breathlessly.

“You may.”

As he quickened his pace, you cried out loud as the third one rocked your body from head to toe. Your back had arched off the bed, spreading a heat that tinged every nerve.

As you caught your breath, he removed his hand and leaned over you, staring directly into your eyes. The lingering heat made its presence in your cheeks, quickly averting your gaze.

“Look at me,” his voice soft, though full of authority. As you met his gaze again, he continued. “I’m gonna cum in your mouth, you ready?”

With a nod from you, his thrusts strengthened even more, the sound of skin slapping skin echoing in your shared bedroom. Not even a full moment passed when he suddenly pulled out.

“On the floor, now.” he commanded in a hurried voice.

You obeyed, immediately dropping yourself to the ground once again. Face to face with his cock, you opened your mouth as he quickly rubbed himself. Silvery strings of his spend shot out, coating your tongue.

As the last of it dripped out, you swallowed dutifully. Peering up at him, seeing the bliss bloom across his face as he attempted to catch his breath. He looked down at you, offering a sweet smile as he reached down, running his fingers through your hair.

“That’s my girl.”

You matched his smile with one of your own. “Did I do good, Mr. Morgan?”

He knelt down to you, reaching around to untie your wrists. As the binding loosened, he kissed you and murmured, “Better than good, darlin’. You did amazin’.”

—

Song used: Bad Girl by Usher

Tagging @verai-marcel cause I KNOW yo thirsty ass will appreciate this

Send me a prompt!

#Anonymous #Arthur Morgan #Arthur Morgan x reader #prompt request #nsft #arthur morgan x reader smut

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splendidlyimperfect · 4 years

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When a magical mishap transforms Natsu, Sting and Rogue, Gray finds himself responsible for a horde of dragons.

Chapter Summary: Being in Isvan brings back memories from Gray's past.

Chapters (9/?): 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 Relationships: Rogue Cheney/Natsu Dragneel/Sting Eucliffe/Gray Fullbuster, Laxus Dreyar/Freed Justine, Levy McGarden/Gajeel Redfox Additional Tags: Canon Universe, Fairy Tail Dragon Slayers, Magical Accidents, Spells & Enchantments, Transformation, Dragons, Fluff and Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, kind of, baby dragons are basically kittens, I make the rules here, Fluff and Humor, Cute, like super fucking cute, it’s just dumb and fluffy okay, Nonbinary Character, Freed’s enby, because i say so

**i'm basing everything about isvan on inuit (ᐃᓄᐃᑦ) culture and language (specifically inuinnaqtun). unfortunately my only source for inuinnaqtun comes from a dictionary, so if any inuit folk are reading this and have corrections for me, i warmly welcome them!

-----

“This was probably not my best idea.”

Gray sat next to the campfire, keeping a careful eye on Natsu as he stalked toward the flames, tail flicking back and forth in excitement. “Be careful,” Gray warned, holding Sting in his lap and stroking behind his ears. Sting purred happily and rubbed his head back against Gray’s fingers.

Natsu gave Gray an offended look, then pounced forward, eating some of the flames. He scrambled backward after a second, smoke spilling from his mouth, then turned to Gray and opened wide to breathe out a line of fire.

“Not at me, you little idiot!” Gray yelped, quickly patting out the tiny fire that started on his sleeve. Sting made an indignant noise on Gray’s behalf and pounced at Natsu, knocking him onto his back and nipping at his neck. Natsu kicked at him with his hind feet, growling half-heartedly as the attack turned playful.

Continue reading on AO3

“Hopefully he doesn’t burn down the tent,” Freed said mildly from the other side of the fire where they were bundled up and holding their hands out to keep warm. Laxus had already proven he could use his lightning magic when he ate the sparks from the flint for the fire, and he watched Sting and Natsu’s battle with something like disdain from where he was settled in front of Freed. Rogue, who seemed to have taken a liking to Laxus despite his initial uncertainty, was curled up next to him, fast asleep with his tail over his nose.

“I probably shouldn’t encourage him,” Gray mused, shifting close to the fire and prodding at it with a stick. Sparks drifted up into the sky, highlighting the soft flakes of snow that drifted slowly down around them. The area where they had made camp was sheltered in a grove of pine trees, and Freed had created a rune barrier above them to keep out most of the snow.

Sting, who had scampered away from Natsu’s retaliatory attack, dove into a pile of snow just outside the area they’d cleared. When he surfaced, his muzzle was wet from the snow he’d eaten. Natsu stalked toward him, then yelped when a blast of white magic hit the ground next to his front paws. Sting made a chittering sound that was almost a laugh before pouncing back onto Natsu and sitting on his stomach.

“I think he wins,” Gray said, laughing at the outraged look that Natsu managed to throw his way. Natsu turned back to Sting and bit his foot, kicking him off when Sting stumbled back in surprise. A line of fire shot out from Natsu’s mouth, scorching the ground in front of Sting and lightly singeing the fur on his chest.

“Natsu!” Gray chided, reaching out for him and grabbing him by the scruff of his neck. “Don’t be an asshole.”

Natsu whined, twisting in Gray’s grip and trying to nip at Gray’s fingers. “I know you’re excited about your magic,” Gray said, setting Natsu down in his lap and scratching the top of his head. “You can’t just light everything you see on fire, though.”

A small puff of smoke wisped up from Natsu’s nostrils as he huffed, then slowly relaxed under Gray’s hands. When Sting clambered up next to him, Natsu made an apologetic noise and started to groom the singed fur on Sting’s chest.

“That’s better,” Gray said, leaning back and shifting so they could both curl up between his legs. “So, what about you?” He looked over at Rogue, who blinked at him sleepily as he uncurled from his sleeping position, then stretched out his front legs, kneading the ground as he yawned.

“He should be able to just…” Freed gestured around them vaguely. The sun had set not long ago, and the forest was filled with shadows cast from the bright silver light of the moon. Rogue ambled over to the edge of the makeshift campsite, watching the dark spots on the ground shift and flicker with the light of the campfire. Gray watched in fascination as the shadows solidified for a second before they disappeared into Rogue’s open mouth.

Rogue turned back to the two of them, looking pleased with himself before he disappeared.

“What the—”

Gray’s panic was short lived when Rogue reappeared on the other side of the fire next to Laxus, who jumped in surprise and bared his teeth.

“Interesting,” Freed said, reaching out and running their finger across Laxus’ head until he stopped growling and settled next to their leg. Rogue followed, standing on his hind legs and headbutting Freed’s other hand. “So it’s not just their breath magic.”

“Well that’s inconvenient,” Gray muttered, raising an eyebrow at Rogue, who purred happily as Freed petted him. “The last thing we need is him disappearing. They’re small enough as it is.”

“You’re not going to disappear on us, are you?” Freed asked Rogue, voice shifting into a soft, fond cadence as they scratched beneath Rogue’s chin. Rogue flicked his tail contentedly, then wriggled his entire body and hopped up onto Freed’s lap. Laxus gave him a quiet growl and Freed rolled their eyes, holding out their hand so Laxus could scramble up as well.

“You’d better not disappear,” Gray said seriously as he grabbed the stick from next to him and poked at the fire. “We have to stick together; it’s just going to get colder the farther north we go.” Natsu, who was now curled up underneath Sting and using him as a blanket, grumbled.

“It would help if we knew where we were going,” Freed pointed out, shifting so their feet were closer to the fire. “Does anything seem familiar?”

Gray stared at the flames, watching the patterns as it crackled and spit. Fragments of memory had come and gone all day, but any time he tried to focus on them, they drifted away like smoke into the night.

“Sometimes,” he said eventually. “It’s hard to know what’s real and what’s dreams. It was a long time ago.”

Freed nodded, shuffling closer to the flames. “Memory is a strange thing,” they said softly. “Especially when it’s tied to trauma.”

Gray continued to stare into the flames as heat crept into his cheeks, and he nearly dropped his stick into the fire. Freed was his best friend, but even they only knew bits and pieces of Gray’s past.

“I think—we might be close to where I lived,” he said hesitantly. “With my parents. Before Ur. I’m not sure. I think—that lake we passed, earlier today… I think I went there with my paappak.” When Freed made a curious sound, he clarified, “My dad. I remember that much. And amaamak – my mom.” The words felt foreign in his mouth, and they filled his chest with a soft sense of longing.

“You don’t talk about them,” Freed said. A cold breeze picked up around them, tossing small flurries of snow into the air. Freed reached out a hand and made a few simple gestures, pulling the barrier above them down until it surrounded them on three sides and kept the wind out.

“It was a long time ago,” Gray said. Sting made a soft trilling sound from his place on top of Natsu, and Gray smiled, scratching behind his ears. “It hurts to talk about them,” he admitted quietly. “I miss them. And forgetting… it feels like I’m losing them. I wish I remembered more.”

“Of the language, you mean?”

Gray nodded. “I didn’t even speak Fioran until Ur adopted me,” he said. “I know other people up here must speak Isvanian, but nobody in Fiore does, so I don’t have anyone to speak it with. So it just disappears, bit by bit, and it feels like I lose them even more.”

“I could learn,” Freed offered. Gray looked up at them and they smiled at him through the flames. “I’m good at languages, you know that. I’m sure there’s books on it somewhere.”

“That’s a lot of work.”

Freed shrugged. “I like work,” they said simply. “And you’re my best friend. If it helps you feel connected to your past and your culture, I want to do it.”

Gray swallowed against the lump that suddenly pressed against his throat. Sting, who seemed to sense the change in his mood, purred loudly and squirmed off of Natsu, sitting up on his back legs and pressing his paws to Gray’s chest. Gray laughed, kissing the top of Sting’s head and helping him clamber up until he was tucked into Gray’s hood, head resting on Gray’s shoulder.

“Ilannaq,” Gray said, looking up at Freed. “It means ‘friend.’ Actually, ‘ivjurnauti’ would be better, it’s—like best friend, I guess.”

“Ivjurnauti,” Freed repeated. Hearing the word spoken by someone else after so many years made Gray feel warm – like he was little again and sitting by the fire while amaamak told him stories. “What else do you remember?”

A memory of pain and blood flashed through Gray’s mind and he pushed it away, soothed by Sting’s soft purrs and the way Natsu burrowed closer to him, making soft, contented sounds.

“There was another village,” Gray said, closing his eyes to try to pull the threads of memory together. “I don’t remember what it was called. My grandfather came from there and we’d visit sometimes. The way we’re going, it feels like we’re close.”

“Hopefully we’ll find it tomorrow,” Freed said, covering their mouth as a yawn escaped. “Maybe someone there can tell us about the guild.”

Gray nodded and rubbed his face as exhausted slowly started to overtake him. He scratched behind Natsu’s ears as he relaxed back against the log behind him, tipping his head back to stare through the rune barrier at the sky. Millions of stars spilled across the deep black night, forming unfamiliar constellations.

They sat in silence for a while, watching the campfire smoke drift up into the sky. Eventually the horizon started to shimmer, and a faint green light began to paint itself into the night. It drifted higher, twisting and turning and spilling out lines of pink and purple as it trailed overhead.

“Aqhalingiaq,” Gray said softly as memories of sitting on his father’s lap and watching the northern lights filled his mind. “The light,” he explained when Freed looked over at him. “That’s what it’s called.”

“I’ve never seen it before,” Freed said, tipping their head back to stare at the brilliant display. The lights gave their hair a soft bluish tinge “I’ve only read about it in books – it’s beautiful.”

Laxus, who had fallen asleep in Rogue’s lap, blinked slowly awake and stretched, then tipped his head back to stare at the sky along with them. Sting made a contented sound and rubbed his cheek against Gray’s before yawning and cuddling closer.

Gray sighed happily, closing his eyes and letting himself drift into memories. They came in bits and pieces – some of them painful, some of them not – and he let all of them wash over them, releasing them when they hurt too much. It was easier here than back home, and Gray felt a comfortable warmth fill him as he let himself exist and remember, surrounded by love and the snow and the northern lights.

That night, Gray dreamed about his mother.

Instead of crying next to her still body, dream-Gray was little – two or three years old, peeking over her shoulder from where he was tucked snugly into the sealskin akuq she wore. She was sitting outside under the bright winter sun, carefully sewing tiny beads into the fabric on her lap. Her hands were small and quick, the soft brown skin weathered from years of work.

The needle flew in and out of the fabric, pulling beads after it that told stories Gray couldn’t remember. After a moment, his mother began to sing an Isvanian lullaby as she rocked back and forth.

“I am proud of you,” she said softly to dream-Gray, reaching back and touching his cheek as the dream started to dissolve. “And I love you very much.”

Gray woke to the sound of cursing.

“Stupid lizard!” an unfamiliar voice shouted. Gray was immediately up, throwing off the heavy blankets and scrambling out of the tent into the clearing. Two women stood near the extinguished fire, one of them holding her bleeding hand against her chest. Natsu sat on the ground a short distance away, growling and spreading his wings to look as big as possible.

“Natsu!” Gray shouted, darting forward and grabbing him while forming a shield of ice to block the blast of dark energy that flew from the other woman. It smashed against the barrier hard enough to shatter it and knock Gray onto his back. His head hit the ground as his breath rushed out of him, blurring his vision for a second before he managed to scramble backward and push himself to his feet. Natsu struggled against Gray’s grip, growling fiercely at the women as Gray stumbled toward the tent.

“Gray! Get back!” A wall of purplish runes sprang up between Gray and the attackers as Freed appeared behind him, looking disheveled but ready to fight. “Is it—”

“It’s them,” Gray said, immediately recognizing the Vengeance Soul guild mark on the back of both the women’s hands. A hot, stinging fear rushed through him, and suddenly all he could see was Sting lying on his back, blood dripping from where Gray’s hands were pressed against the devastating wound his side. “Where are the other—”

Gray’s panicked question was interrupted by the appearance of Sting, Rogue and Laxus at the flap to the tent, all peering curiously out at the commotion. Gray quickly dropped Natsu next to them and nudged them all back with his foot, keeping one eye on the women as he formed a blade of ice.

“You did this,” he hissed at them, gripping the hilt of the sword. “What do you want?” Neither of the women responded, and the one in the back held her hands out as a dark, rippling miasma began to form above them.

“Get them out of here,” Freed said, right hand holding up the barrier as their left hand started to draw symbols in the air. “Dark Ecriture: Pain,” he murmured as a blast of runes flew through the air. The woman in front easily deflected the magic with a flick of her wrist and Freed’s eyes widened in surprise.

Gray shook his head, eyes dropping to the scar on his wrist. “It was a trap,” he said quietly, exhaling as he let the demon markings appear on his arm. A wave of nausea flowed through him, just like every time he used the magic, and he shook his head to get rid of the dizzy sensation. “They just want me.”

“You can’t just let them take you,” Freed hissed. “I can use—”

“You can’t use Darkness Magic,” Gray said quickly, grabbing Freed’s arm. “It’s demon magic. I don’t know what’ll happen.” He gestured to the markings that crawled down his arm and made twisting patterns across his skin. Images of Natsu with bared teeth and dragon scales appeared in his mind and he shuddered. He wasn’t about to repeat that fight.

Another blast of dark magic shattered Freed’s barrier, knocking them back into the tent. Gray quickly stepped in front of them as his devil slayer magic started to take over, spreading a bone-deep chill through his body.

“Go!” he shouted, shoving Freed back toward the dragons. Before they could argue, Gray dropped to his knees and pressed his hand to the ground, satisfied when a wall of ice sprang up behind him. He could hear Natsu and the others whining in confusion and his heart ached as he ignored the sounds and stepped forward.

“Don’t worry,” the woman in front said as she stepped forward. “We’re not after them. They aren’t much a threat like that anyways.” Her laugh was grating.

“You did this to them,” Gray growled, pushing himself to his feet. “It was all just to get to me? What do you even want with this?” He held out the arm that was patterned with black, showing them the scar. “You already tried to cut it out, what more do you—”

Before he could finish his sentence, the woman disappeared. Gray blinked, then cursed as he felt a sharp pain in the side of his neck. When he tried to reach up and touch it, he couldn’t move his arm.

The last thing Gray saw before everything disappeared was the woman’s grinning face, and a set of glowing red eyes.

#fairy tail #gratsustingue #ot4 #discord&dragons #gray fullbuster #natsu dragneel #sting eucliffe #rogue cheney #fraxus #freed justine #laxus dreyar #update #new chapter

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gcldveins · 4 years

Text

HELLOOOOOO everyone !!!!!!!! i just wanna say .. thank you SO MUCH for joining misty hollow with jin and i , you have no idea how happy it made us to see so many people interested and join and like .. just clearly so in love w their own muses so like i just wanna say i love u all with my whole freaking heart !!!! ok enough w the sappy stuff let me introduce to u all literally the worst muse i have ever created .. malcolm o’sullivan. but he goes by sully bc he was ur og e-boy who goes “ oh ? my favourite band ? you wouldn’t have heard of it .. they’re called the rolling stones uwu ” and i rlly do hate him for that... it’s okay tho i punish him accordingly :~)

overview

✎⌠paul rudd. cismale. he/him⌡❝ — well, look who’s just arrived ! if it isn’t the one and only malcolm o'sullivan. though, around here they’re known as the harlequin. don’t tell ‘em i said this but the forty-seven year old owner of o'sullivan’s books kinda has a reputation of being stubborn and irresponsible. but y’know, they can be creative and analytical too. typical aquarius. anyways, welcome home and stay safe sully ! ❞

statistics

full name: malcolm eamon o’sullivan

nickname(s): sully, anything else and he twitches ..

date of birth: february 2nd, 1973

hometown: misty hollow, connecticut.

gender identity: cis gender

preferred pronouns: he/him

sexual orientation: bisexual

hogwarts house: ravenclaw

aesthetic: an old leather jacket thrown over a wrinkled t-shirt, dog-eared pages, the smell of alcohol and cigarettes, untied laces, the soft rumbling of a motorcycle engine, messy handwriting, calloused fingertips

distinguishable characteristics: is looking homeless a distinguishable characteristic..

pinterest board: here.

their song from the sigh no more album bc i love this album and it makes me Sad™ : little lion man

background ( murder tw )

— born in the town of dingle, a small port town in ireland, malcolm and his family immigrated to america when he was ten years old. they moved into misty hollow after his father opened up his own bookshop and the o’sullivan’s have been there ever since.

— always having been a rebellious child, malcolm ( slowly gaining the nickname sully in school ) seemed to have a knack for doing anything that pissed his father off. his greatest act ? moving out as soon as he graduated without so much as a goodbye.

— malcolm was only a wee lad when the misty hollow murders were happening. his older brother, his only brother, was unfortunately one of the victims, being eight at the time. he’s not too torn up about it, he was only two years old. but his father reminded him everyday growing up, how much smarter and accomplished and just overall better his brother was than him.

— the only thing that sully was grateful for about his father was the love for books he had ingrained into him. growing up, he developed a knack for writing and he ended up going to the university of pennsylvania for journalism. after that, sully moved out to new york where he worked as a journalist for the new york times and wrote articles on political updates and reports.

— he met his wife in new york and they had three children together, two girls and one boy. sully was living the classic american dream. until, of course, it was all ruined in a single camping trip.

— it was just sully and the three kids, except the trip was cut short and he had to come home with two kids instead of three. sully’s youngest, nancy, was taken at the campgrounds and evidence of her murder was found in a nearby cabin.

— this tore sully’s family apart. the tragedy forced him towards a downwards spiral, an endless cycle of destructive habits. it got to the point where his wife decided to divorce him and to take the kids with her.

— sully eventually, reluctantly, made the decision to return to misty hollow. there, he stayed with his parents for a bit until he got a job at o’sullivan’s books and was able to take a couple months to get back on his feet.

— his parents initially pushed him towards trying to work at the mystic herald but sully hasn’t written a single sentence since his daughter died. now, his father has essentially left him to run the bookshop for him, which sully doesn’t mind. it’s quiet work that doesn’t require too much effort.

personality

— to sum it up in one sentence .. sully has essentially has regressed into a man-child in the more recent years of his life, but the inferiority complex is a tried and true constant.

— he hasn’t really properly dealt with his daughter’s death ( even though it’s been over a decade.. ), just lives in a constant cycle of whenever he does try to think about it, he feels like shit and just thinks about all the things he could’ve done differently so he stops immediately.

— sully always wanted to be a dad, to prove that he could be a better one than his own father. so he feels like he really failed in that retrospect. he’s like a human pity party. though he does that classic thing where he glosses over his sad feelings with destructive behaviour and inappropriate humour.

— very self-indulgent, does whatever he wants, whenever he wants. as long as it makes him feel better, even just for a moment, he’ll do it. doesn’t take anything very seriously, just kinda jokes around all the time. is one of those people that just give off.. kinda pathetic vibes you know? like you look at him and you’re like ?? what are you doing with your life dude ?? and he’s like idk

— but, on the bright side, this makes him pretty easy-going and down-to-earth. definitely a roll-with-the-punches and no bullshit type of guy, isn’t discouraged by much and doesn’t care a whole lot about what others think of him. it’s easy for him to engage in conversation and be all charismatic when he feels like it.

— despite all .. of that, sully actually comes across as a relatively okay guy. he can be friendly and crack a few jokes while he’s at it, he’s one of those people that, as long as thinks you’re chill, treats you like you guys have been friends forever. but he can be pretty crude / vulgar at times, sooo how others react to that is kind of a gamble !

wanted connections

his one true bro <3 just someone that’ll be a complete idiot with him and they are definitely a bad influence on each other. this person probably hangs around the bookshop alot and they just spend all day with each other doing and saying stupid shit. like you know that gif set of seth rogen and joseph gordon-levitt where one’s like “ i’d fuck you ” and the other goes “ thanks :3 ” that’s it.. those are the vibes..

drinking buddies ! these two just get really drunk off their ass together and probably don’t even know each other that well despite of like.. several years of sort of friendship. one night they’re probably five drinks in and sully goes “ when i was married — ” and they’re just like “ wayment .. what the fuck . ” and ! maybe if your muse has something to get emo about ! maybe they can get drunk AND emo together <3

casual relationships ? he could have one or two of these ! sully.. does not date. tried being in a serious relationship once after his divorce and it ended... terribly. like imagine asking your adult boyfriend if he wants to move in together and his response is essentially just “ ... yeah i’m ok thanks tho. ” and you never hear from him again ndijgnk

that being said... if anyone wants that plot alluded to above .... let me know......

for the younger muses out there ! anyone that he’s kind of ? taken under his wing. pseudo-children essentially. i can’t promise that he’ll be a good influence.. he’s probably not even aware that he’s done this lmao but deep down, sully’s still a dad. he’ll probably be protective over the youngins but shows it in the form of tough love, y’know ? probably tells your muse to stop being a shithead all the time, cute stuff like that.

and some more casual connection ideas that we can further flesh out through some plotting / brainstorming:

old friends from misty hollow

regular customers

co-workers

an unrequited crush ( either on sully’s end or your muse’s )

a good influence on him .. please... i’m begging you

someone that can nerd out over books with him !

friends !!! everyone needs friends and lucky for sully, he’s pretty good at making them !! in a pushy and annoying way..

enemies / frenemies pls ... these are always so much fun

anything and everything else !! if we can’t figure out a plot between sully and your muse, we can always just do it old school and throw them at each other in a random thread and see what happens !!

#misty.intro #this is a whole ass novel im sorry nfidjmfsdl

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team-free-will-oneshots · 5 years

Text

Better Than Love

Title: Better Than Love Request: Yo could you write a reader x Charlie at pride pretty please with a cherry on top? - anon Pairing: Charlie x Reader Warnings: just fluff my dudes !! Word Count: 1,346

note; i sure as heck can !! this might just be the gayest thing i’ve ever written, ur welcome. also i was listening to better than love by lesbian jesus (hayley kiyoko) on repeat while i was writing this so some of that might bleed thru but who knows. anyways enjoy!!

“Here, these too!” Charlie declared, tossing a rainbow set of suspenders into the shopping cart, which was already piled high with a multitude of multi-coloured apparel. You picked them up, turning them over in your hand once and smiling idly.

“We already have a set - the pink and orange ones for the lesbian flag, remember?” you reminded her, and she swore quietly before shrugging.

“That’s okay - I’ll wear those, you wear the rainbow ones,” she said firmly, and a laugh bubbled from your lips.

“Okay - do you think we have enough?” you asked as she tossed another packet of glitter into the cart. She frowned, staring at your haul critically before nodding.

“It’ll do,” she said eventually. “I ordered a bunch of stuff on etsy as well - I think we’ll just scrape by.” She shot you an exhilarated grin that you excitedly returned.

Both of you checked out, ignoring the cashier’s wide, overwhelmed eyes as the two of you split the pricey total of the miscellaneous rainbow items. It seemed like you’d found every single rainbow item in the entire store, from buttons to clothing, and had loaded at least two of each into your cart. With your wallets considerably lighter, the two of you left the store and found Dean waiting by the Impala.

“Took you both long enough,” he muttered, though he couldn’t stop the small smile that crept over his face as he saw how happy the two of you looked, fingers intertwined as you both hauled heavy bags.

“Can’t rush the gay agenda, Dean,” Charlie teased as he helped you both load the bags into the trunk. He chuckled.

“Right.”

“Thanks for being our chauffeur, by the way,” you said, shooting him a wink. He rolled his eyes fondly.

“Yeah, whatever,” he muttered, though you could see smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. You and Charlie slipped into the backseat together, and you pulled out your phone as you connected to the Impala’s bluetooth that you had forced Dean to install. Hayley Kiyoko started blasting, and Dean spared an irritated glance over his shoulder.

“Hey, driver picks the music!” he scolded, and you shrugged as you grinned.

“Sorry, Dean. Pride means we’re legally obligated to only listen to lgbtq+ artists, I don’t make the rules. If it’s really bothering you we can throw on some Queen instead,” you suggested, and he shook his head, scoffing playfully as a smug smile crossed your face and you leaned back into Charlie’s side. Her lips found your temple as her hands slunk around your waist, and you closed your eyes contentedly. The ride passed quickly, and when the two of you jumped from the car you were quick to run inside.

The two of you quickly changed until you both resembled a mismatched patchwork of rainbows, draped in your respective flags. You couldn’t help but beam as your girlfriend caught your eye and struck a dramatic pose.

“Amazing. Beautiful. A gay icon,” you applauded, and she laughed, taking a bow and pausing as you stepped closer, reaching out to adjust the rainbow bow she’d placed in her hair. You frowned, lips puckering in concentration as you tried to straighten it, only for it to fall crooked again.

“It won’t stay straight,” you muttered, and Charlie’s face split into a shit-eating grin.

“We have something in common, then,” she teased, and you rolled your eyes, unable to keep the amusement off your face.

“Good one,” you said sarcastically, and she giggled, cutting off your half-hearted complaints at her bad puns by sealing her lips to yours. The sweet taste of her mouth on your own and the feeling of her hands sneaking around your waist to pull you closer quickly sucked any thoughts from your mind that didn’t revolve around her. In those few seconds, Charlie Bradbury became your whole world. The softness of her skin beneath your fingertips, the silky tresses of her hair that your hands moved to tangle in, the fresh, floral scent of her perfume…

You found yourself dazed when you pulled away, blinking and swallowing a few times as Charlie beamed at your flushed cheeks, placing a chaste kiss to one.

“Come on, let’s break out the glitter!” she said enthusiastically, and you let her hand find yours as she dragged you to the bunker’s library, where the rest of your bags awaited. Sam sat nearby at a desk, laptop in front of him as he scanned news articles for potential cases. When the two of you came out (pun intended), he raised a surprised eyebrow.

“You two look great. And… bright,” he remarked, and Charlie shrugged, sharing a smile with you before walking to plop herself in the seat across from the tall Winchester. You fell into the seat next to her.

“We’re about to be even brighter,” you told him. The plastic bag rustled as you pulled out a packet of glitter and shot him a wink. Light scattered off the tiny, shining specks, and Sam couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Glitter in the bunker? You realise Dean is gonna kill you, right?”

You shrugged, tearing open the packet with your teeth but jerking back in surprise as glitter exploded from the tiny plastic sachet, cascading over the present company and covering the three of you in flecks of rainbow glitter. You blinked in shock as Charlie’s laughter drew you back to reality.

“Good work, Y/N,” she teased, planting a kiss on your cheek and stealing the packet from you. “Maybe I’ll do the glitter stuff, yeah?”

Smiling sheepishly, you nodded. “Okay, yeah. Maybe that’s for the best.”

A mere half an hour later, not only were you and Charlie adorned with glitter on your faces and in your hair, but the bunker was certainly a lot more… rainbow and sparkly than when you’d found it. Sam snickered as he shook glitter from his hair.

“Dean is so gonna kill you,” he informed you, and you poked your tongue out at him.

“He’ll live.” You glanced at the clock, turning back to Charlie with an eager expression. “Come on, let’s get going!”

---

By the time you arrived, the pride parade was in full swing. People were marching, shouting gleefully and kissing, and the street was lined with vendors selling flags and other rainbow bits and bobs. You felt excitement knotting in your stomach at the sense of belonging and acceptance that buzzed through the air. The sun shone a little brighter, the sky seemed a little bluer, and you felt Charlie’s hand slide into yours.

“How cool is this?” she breathed, and you could hear the awe and anticipation in her tone as her wide eyes drank in every sight surrounding you. No matter how many years you’d come here, you could never get used to it - there was nowhere else you felt so celebrated, so… accepted, and that feeling could never grow old.

You squeezed Charlie’s hand as you turned to look at her, heart stammering with pure elation. As beautiful as the parade was, in your eyes, she outshone any other person there, gleamed brighter than any shimmering decoration. The glitter twinkling high on her cheekbones reflected the glaring sunlight, almost as bright as the sparkle in her eyes - the glowing joy and cheekiness that had first drawn you to her.

Your hands sought her waist, and she smirked as you pulled her close, brushing her hair back from her face as you leaned in to kiss her. The world seemed to fall away, the cheers and clapping and music fading into nothing as her lips moved against yours, soft and sure, familiar and warm. She hummed into the kiss, smiling as her arms wound around your neck and threaded through your hair.

She pulled back just enough to rest her forehead on yours, cheeks flushed. Her lips, slightly swollen from your act, curved into a radiant smile that made butterflies turn in your stomach. As the music and festivities swam into focus, you could say one thing for certain;

Nothing was better than love.

__________

Forever tags: @babygirloreo @calaofnoldor @lmpala97 @sebastianshoe @81mysteriouslyme @castieliswatchingoverme @spnlovr73 @kina666 @liviaolivia @simplyxparker @helpmeluci @demonsofhunting

#supernatural #supernatural imagine #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural x reader #charlie bradbury x reader #charlie bradbury #pride #charlie bradbury imagine #lgbt #lgbtq #lgbtqia #lgbtpride #spn imagine #spn #spn fanfiction #spn reader insert #charlie bradbury fanfiction #dean winchester #sam winchester

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quinnybee-writes · 5 years

Text

Title: Fire Meet Gasoline

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia/My Hero Academia

Rating: T+

Part: 6/?

Story Summary: A chance encounter between a villain and vigilante leads to an unwise deal made between unlikely allies; an unwise deal made between unlikely allies ends in a final stand neither would have ever dared to take on alone. Together, though, they just might have a fighting chance.

Part 6 Summary: Favor number two tests the patience of one and the mettle of another, leaving uncertainty about both in its wake.

Part 1 on Tumblr / AO3

Part 2 on Tumblr / AO3

Part 3 on Tumblr / AO3

Part 4 on Tumblr / AO3

Part 5 on Tumblr / AO3

Part 6 on AO3

I swear to god if if I have to sit through one more meeting where I get voluntold to pick up another department’s slack in the same sentence as management trying to cut my intern’s hours I’m going to chug a two-liter of Surge and burp so loud I bring this whole mfer down with me.

Shouta stared at his phone, his sleep-addled brain trying to make sense of whether Yamada meant the text as a threat or not. He’d been catching a quick power nap in the back of his truck during his lunch hour and had been most of the way asleep when the rattle of his phone on the metal floor jolted him awake again. Not helping his attempt to dissect the meaningless hyperbole was Yamada’s follow up text of lmao it u along with a gif of a cat trying to jump from a bed to a dresser and falling halfway with the caption “parkour!”. He wouldn’t put it past Yamada to be the type to threaten in one breath and quote a meme in the next, but he couldn’t wrap his brain around why Yamada would be sending him incriminating evidence via text message during work hours.

Two new messages came in quick succession as Shouta was trying to puzzle things out.

Oh my god

Those were supposed to go to my sister holy shit

So not an admission or a threat, just an idiot with a cell phone. Shouta groaned, eyes rolling back in his head in disgust at how much energy he had wasted on taking Yamada seriously yet again.

forget it Shouta sent back.

Cute cat pic for ur trouble? Yamada replied along with a picture of a gangly black cat with bright yellow eyes. The cat was sprawled on its back in a pile of kibble and the shredded scraps of a cat food bag. Shouta snorted, grinning a little in spite of himself at the self-satisfied look on the cat’s fuzzy little face.

cute he texted, trying to distill as much exhaustion and disinterest into the single word as possible.

That’s Ai-chan. She’s a monster, but she’s my monster <3

So what are you up to? Break from work?

Shouta sighed, rubbing his temples. It was impossible to freeze out someone who was so willing to keep the conversation going without outside input.

trying to catch some sleep before afternoon deliveries Shouta replied as pointedly as he could.

Oof. Busy night?

do you need something? Shouta asked, stabbing the send key a little harder than he really needed to. There was a short, offended pause from Yamada’s end of the line; Shouta could picture him looking down at his phone with that little not-quite-pouting moue he always made when things weren’t going his way.

I guess not.

The curt punctuation seemed to signal Yamada had finally gotten the point, just in time to exhaust the last of Shouta’s free time before he had to get going again. Shouta put his phone into his pocket and made a point to not check it again until he was walking home. Waiting for him was another gif, this time of a pair of hands vigorously shaking a bottle of Surge, followed by a message that just said Oh goddammit. Shouta rolled his eyes and deleted the thread without replying.

The perceived slight only kept Yamada at bay for a short time, however. Now that he’d gotten a taste of the man’s texting habits Shouta had to wonder how Yamada managed to get anything done. No matter when his breaks were during the day it seemed like Yamada always had some new meme or gif or general workplace complaint to gift him with in the meantime, whether it was before dawn or after dark or occasionally both.

do you actually have a job or do they just pay you to bother me? Shouta finally asked as he waited at an interminable red light several days later. Yamada had been on a spree that morning, flooding his inbox with an illustrated play-by-play of Ai-chan’s newest misdoings while Shouta had four straight hours of back-to-back deliveries.

Excuse you, Yamada texted back loftily, I am an integral part of station management! Who occasionally may or may not take extra long bathroom breaks to avoid getting roped into being more integral than I already am.

my bad. clearly you’re just doing your part to prevent asahi radio from being razed via belch Shouta replied, snorting out a laugh before he could stop himself. He paused, frowning. That was both new and unwelcome.

Yamada sent back a long line of laugh-crying emojis followed by Look who grew a sense of humor just in time to drag me!

don’t act like you know me.

Yeah, yeah. Scout’s honor, I won’t tell anybody you’re actually funny.

Shouta scowled, dropping the phone onto the seat next to him and pulling through the light as it finally turned green. Despite the chilly weather he rolled his window down to get some airflow on his face. He hadn’t turned on the truck’s heater yet but his cheeks already felt way too warm.

Shouta spent his next day off drinking too much coffee at the cat cafe while he tried to reign in the chaos that his computer desktop had become. His phone buzzed on the table beside him and Shouta swiped in the passcode with one hand while the other was dragging a huge load of defunct backup files to his computer’s trash. He’d sooner walk into traffic than admit it to Yamada, but having a passcode on his phone was turning out to be less of an inefficient hassle that he’d always thought it would be and did make him less anxious about putting it places that weren’t his pocket or his hand.

As if waiting for the thought to cue him in, the alert was for yet another of Yamada’s early-morning memes. This time it was a gif of a kitten trying to stay awake before it wobbled and flopped out of frame. Yamada’s accompanying caption read That midweek feeling hitting hard today along with an emoji of a sleeping face with a snot bubble.

it’s monday Shouta texted back.

When you work 24/7 it’s always midweek, Yamada replied.

implying you work at all. still not convinced.

I resent that, Aizawa. It takes a lot of skill and determination to shovel this much shit and still have spare time to be a full-time pain in the ass.

Shouta almost allowed himself a laugh at that, but the air caught in his throat at Yamada’s next question.

So, do you do all of your important hero research on the public wifi at kitty cafes, or is today a special occasion?

What do you mean? Shouta asked warily.

Behind you.

Shouta turned slowly, dreading what he knew he was about to see. Yamada was standing on the sidewalk outside, grinning at him over the top of his cell phone. He gave Shouta a little wave before sauntering in and up to the counter. He chatted amiably with the baristas as they made his order. Shouta frowned to himself, trying to work out the quickest way to pack up his belongings while disturbing as few sleeping cats as possible. The moment came and went too quickly, however, as Yamada came over with two cups of coffee in his hands.

“Black with one sugar, right?” Yamada said. He slid one of the steaming mugs in front of Shouta. “That’s what they said anyway,” he added, nodding up towards the counter.

“What are you doing here?” Shouta asked coolly. Yamada frowned at him.

“I was on my way to the post office to mail a couple things and empty the station P.O. box and saw you in the window,” Yamada said. “I figured we could sit and chat since we both have a minute.”

“You just kind of assume you’re welcome wherever you decide to be, don’t you?” Shouta said.

Yamada snorted. “If that’s the worst thing someone tells me about myself today, I’ll count it as a win,” he replied, toasting Shouta with his coffee cup. He invited himself to sit down in the only chair not currently occupied by cats. “Wait, is that a spreadsheet with my name on it?” he added with sudden interest, arching his neck around to peek at Shouta’s screen. Shouta slammed the lid of his laptop shut, feeling his face heating.

“Do you need something?” Shouta asked, trying to redirect the conversation and get Yamada back on his way as quickly as possible.

“Just caffeine and conversation,” Yamada shrugged. “Is it illegal to ask someone about their day?”

“Implying you care about whether or not you’re doing something illegal,” Shouta replied curtly. To his annoyance Yamada just chuckled and shrugged.

“I mean, you’ve got me there,” he said. “So, what are you working on?” Yamada added, lowering his tone just slightly.

“Catching up on some things,” Shouta said, intentionally vague. “Organizing research. It takes longer when you’re doing it on your own.”

“I bet,” Yamada agreed. “Would probably save you some time and effort to have a permanent back door into places you’re not supposed to be, huh?” He said it with a too-even speculation that set Shouta instantly on edge.

“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience,” Shouta said.

“I know people who know things,” Yamada said with a broad, conspiratorial grin over his coffee mug. “Keeping your friends close and your enemies closer is a lot easier when you can tell which is which.”

Shouta felt a frisson of discomfort run up his spine at the implication of where Yamada considered him to be on that spectrum. “I think I liked it better when you were threatening me,” he muttered. “Don’t make more of that than there is,” he added quickly as Yamada’s smile grew cheeky and he opened his mouth to comment. Yamada did his annoying little not-quite-pouting pout and let out a quiet “hmph” at his joke being preempted.

“In any case, you probably don’t need me to tell you how to crack a secure password,” Yamada said. “Even when they’re clever they’re usually related to either the one who sets them or the thing they’re locking up, or they’re something pseudo-random cooked up by a number generator. Sometimes they get stupid-clever and try to do all three.”

“Mmn?” As bored as he was trying to sound, Shouta couldn’t help taking mental notes on what Yamada was saying. Yamada was a flippant trouble-maker from the word go but there were moments where he displayed actual talent for the things he claimed to be an expert in.

“Oh yeah,” Yamada said. “They’re trying for layers of security, but too many moving parts makes passwords way easier to out-think. Codes are only as smart as the people who write them, y’know?”

“And you know how smart they are?” Shouta asked, trying to keep his tone casual as he goaded Yamada into staying on a roll. Yamada caught his drift a little too well, however, and the sharp, meaningful grin came out again.

“I know people who know things,” he said again. “I’d be willing to let you in on a few trade secrets for the low, low price of a certain five-letter word beginning with ‘f’.”

Shouta snorted. “Hard pass.”

“Well, I tried,” Yamada said, shrugging. He checked the time on his phone and sighed. “That’s about my lot, I’m afraid. Gotta get back before the world ends.” He stood and stretched with a groan. “We should do this again sometime. Maybe talk less shop.” The offer seemed oddly genuine and Shouta wasn’t entirely sure how to feel about that.

He tried to get back to work after Yamada left, but his concentration had been thoroughly broken. He bought another coffee and turned on some neutral background music; his brain, however, was no longer in the mood to stare at a screen and try to riddle out what his new sub-folders should be called. Finally Shouta dislodged the many cats who had taken up residence in and around his lap and packed up his laptop to see if fresh air on the walk home and a change of venue might help get him back on task.

Shouta nudged his apartment door closed with his heel, scooping the mess of envelopes out of his mail bin. It was mostly the normal jumble of junk and bills, but amongst the shuffle was a thin white payroll envelope with his name and address on the front in too-familiar spidery handwriting. Just going to empty the station mailbox indeed, Shouta thought with a groan. Yamada was way too fond of theatrics. He tossed the envelope onto his sofa without opening it and delayed paying it any attention until he’d put everything away, showered, and had a lengthy play session with his cats. If it was unimportant enough for Yamada to not just hand it over when they were in the same room together, Shouta told himself, then there was no need for him to bend over backwards to pay attention to it the instant he got home.

Finally his excuses ran out and he tore the envelope open. Inside were two pieces of paper folded separately into sharp thirds. The first was a handwritten note on Asahi Radio letterhead that read:

Aizawa-

I need a favor. I have a line on something but doing it alone might be tricky. You’ll just be the go-between, nothing dire. Meet me Friday, 9pm sharp.

-M

Also included was another of Yamada’s meticulously notated hand-drawn maps, at the other end of which was a complex of storage units bordered on all sides by a spike-topped chain link fence. Shouta peered into the dark, abandoned-looking guard booth, wondering if the first step to tonight’s goings-on was having to find his own way inside.

“Hey, you made it!”

Shouta turned to see a dark-haired man slouching up towards him from the other end of the sidewalk. He eyed the man warily, about to say he had the wrong person, but stopped as he stepped into the light and raised his sunglasses with a smirk. Yamada had stuffed all of his hair under a short, spiky black wig and a black and green snapback, slicked down his mustache and covered it in a thin layer of skin-colored makeup to blend it in with his face, and buried himself in baggy jeans and a jacket that made him look both heavier-set and a few inches shorter than he actually was. The only things that gave him away were his sharp too-green eyes and his unmistakable grin, full of crafty smugness at Shouta’s open surprise at his appearance. Yamada did a full turnaround of the odd costume, ending the twirl with a dramatic pose.

“Not a bad look for me, huh?” he said, wiggling his eyebrows.

Shouta snorted. “You look like a washed-up pop star who’s trying to pretend he still has to avoid the paparazzi,” he replied flatly.

To his surprise Yamada let out a burst of full-throated laughter at the remark. Shouta wasn’t sure he’d ever heard Yamada laugh in genuine amusement before now, only the occasional mocking chuckle or triumphant snicker. He had a loud, whinnying kind of laugh that tapered off into short bursts of wheezy, hyena-like giggles behind his hand as he remembered himself and tried to tamp it down.

“Okay, cynical,” Yamada said, still coughing through the last of his laughing fit. “Everyone’s a critic.” He rolled his eyes and gave a flourishy “well, what are you gonna do” kind of shrug. Shouta scowled at him.

“What are we doing here?” Shouta asked, doing his best to ignore Yamada’s grandstanding despite the growing burn of annoyance creeping up his face.

“Just a quick jaunt into my evil lair,” Yamada said cheerfully. He punched an entry code into the number pad next to the guard house, then pressed his thumb to the scanner underneath. The keypad flashed green and beeped an affirmative, and a small portion of the gate swung inward. “C’mon,” Yamada said. He motioned for Shouta to follow him as he led the way through the rows of squat cinder block units to one in the very back left corner of the lot.

“People with money can afford secret basements and underground boltholes wherever they need them,” Yamada said over his shoulder as he bent down to unlock the door of the unit, “but the rest of us have to make do with what we’ve got.” He lifted the door just high enough for himself and Shouta to duck under, then set it back down with a clatter. The unit was pitch-black and humid inside and smelled like a mixture of burnt-out electrical parts, solder, and partially cured epoxy glue. “I’ll get the lights, one sec,” Yamada said. Shouta heard him scrabbling along the wall to find the light switch, then a click. A fluorescent shop light flickered and buzzed to life above them, flooding the unit in intense blue-white light. Yamada turned to Shouta and spread his hands wide. “Taa-daa! Welcome to the inner sanctum.”

It looked more like a high school shop room that had sublet space to a thrift store. The left wall had been covered in a cluster of flat-pack bookshelves, their shelves bowing under a jumble of storage boxes labeled things like “radio parts-LIVE”, “speaker wire”, “tape--sticky”, and “tape--magnetic”. The back wall was one long anchored shelf divided into slots that held overstuffed file folders bundled together with rubber bands and binder clips. The only wall not covered in shelving or projects was taken up with a butcher block work table and a cork board with scribbled notes and schematics pinned to it.

“Kind of rinky-dink, but it gets the job done,” Yamada said fondly. “Anyway. First things first, did you happen to wear the stab vest I gave you?” he asked over his shoulder as he ducked under the work table and retrieved a box marked with today’s date.

“Yeah.” The assurance that his part in tonight would be “nothing dire” had put Shouta on high enough alert that he’d forced himself to put pride aside and opt for personal safety instead.

“Thank god. So, basically what I need is for you to be my stand in while things get underway tonight,” Yamada said. “I’d go on my own, but the meeting place is kind of a...no-go area for me right now due to certain people who frequent it.”

“And you’d rather send me in looking like you instead?” Shouta asked, raising an eyebrow at him. Yamada stared at Shouta like he’d started speaking French.

“What? God, no, what gave you that idea?”

Shouta sighed, silently counting to ten in his head as his patience frayed. “You just said I’m supposed to be your stand in.”

“Oh. Okay, yeah, poor choice of words. Think stunt double, not body double,” Yamada explained. “I just need you to be a good-faith warm body, I’ll be handling the rest with this.” He reached into the box and pulled out something that looked like a cold weather mask had been extruded into a large funnel shape at the bottom edge. Shouta looked from it to Yamada, who was beaming in obvious self-pride.

“Which is…?” Shouta prompted.

“Which is your half of a two-way radio with a built in broadcasting speaker,” Yamada said, turning the top edge inside out to show Shouta the wiring and speakers sewn into it. “At first I thought maybe I could just have you memorize a script and I’d step in if things got too off-book, but you’re not very good at lying under pressure so I wasn’t sure that would fly,” he continued. Shouta wasn’t sure if that was meant as an insult or not. “So instead, we have this to work with. I can use this--” Yamada pulled up his sleeve to show a tiny microphone taped to the inside of his wrist-- “to talk to you or talk as you, depending, as long as I stay within ten or twelve feet of you at all times.” The last part he said in one of his uncomfortably accurate impressions of Shouta’s voice.

“And that’s why you’re dressed like that?” Shouta said.

“Exactly. I’ll have to be close enough to you that the receiver can pick up the signal, and it’ll be way easier to read the room if I’m, y’know, in the room.”

“If you were going to put on a costume and go anyway, why didn’t you just do that and go on your own?” Shouta asked.

Yamada frowned and waved a finger at him like he was scolding a child. “Eh-eh-eh. No questions asked, remember? You know as much as you need to know, and you don’t need to know any more than that. Now stand still so I can get you wired up.”

Shouta grudgingly stood with his arms straight out from his body as Yamada turned him into a human switchboard. With a combination of strategic placement and gaffer tape Yamada ran a long wire with an audio jack on one end and a battery connection on the other from Shouta’s waist up his left side to just under his collar bone. Another wire ran the length of his inner arm from shoulder to wrist and ended in a loop with a switch on it that fit over the first knuckle of his thumb. All he had to do, Yamada said as he taped it all down, was press the switch when he needed to talk to Yamada and let it go when he was finished. “Y’know,” Yamada said, “like those cheap walkie-talkies you used to play with as a kid.”

“I ended up making this a lot bigger at the bottom so that we can hide all of our crimes under it,” Yamada muttered as he slipped the mask over Shouta’s head. He was back in the extreme focus mode Shouta had seen him slip into before, attention laser-focused and the corner of his mouth between his teeth as he connected all the wires and power sources underneath. He pulled an earpiece up under the mask by its wire and stuck it in Shouta’s ear before reaching up to fuss with Shouta’s hair and make sure it was hiding everything sticking above the mask. Shouta shivered involuntarily at the touch, barely resisting the urge to pull away. “With the right top layer all of this should be more or less invisible,” Yamada went on, frowning appraisingly as he took a step back to examine his handiwork. He rummaged through a few things in the box and surfaced with a heavy black zippered jacket. “I had to guess sizes, but I think this one should be close enough.”

Yamada unzipped the jacket and held it out so that Shouta could shrug into it. Shouta eased the jacket on, trying not to disturb the network of wires all over him. Yamada zipped it up almost to the top, open enough to seem casual but still high enough to cover all but the face portion of the mask and its contents. It wasn’t a terrible fit other than being slightly short in the sleeves and restrictive around the shoulders. Shouta bent and twisted his arms, trying to stretch it out without doing damage to the electronic infrastructure. Yamada untied the audiojack end of the main wire from Shouta’s belt loop and stuck it into a small cheap-looking disposable cell phone.

“This should have enough battery to keep a recording of the whole thing,” Yamada said. “Can you give me a quick mic check to make sure everything’s hooked up?”

“Uh. Testing,” Shouta said.

Yamada seemed to like what he saw in the waveforms on the phone’s screen. He smiled in satisfaction before stretching a piece of tape around the back of the phone and carefully taping it into place in Shouta’s pocket. “If we head out right now we should get there early enough to do a few on-site checks,” Yamada said, checking the time. “Shall we?”

The two of them walked a few blocks from the storage unit to a cramped, dim little pub. Yamada walked at tailing distance behind Shouta the whole way, testing the range on the homemade gear by giving Shouta directions to where they were going. The audio was relatively clear if they stayed within Yamada’s estimation of ten or so feet; after they hit closer to the twelve-foot mark it got fainter and fainter until dropping out completely as they reached about fifteen feet. Again Shouta had to wonder why, if they were essentially going to be handcuffed to one another anyway, Yamada couldn’t have just gone undercover by himself.

“Grab a drink at the bar and go sit at one of the high-top tables,” Yamada said as Shouta opened the bar’s door and made his way in. “That’s where he’ll be expecting you.”

“Any advice on how to recognize whoever I’m supposed to be meeting?” Shouta muttered back under his breath.

“No idea, he said he would find you. That’s pretty standard for a meeting like this,” Yamada added before Shouta could protest. “Nobody wants to get jumped outside before negotiations even get underway. Think of it as a blind date, but nefarious.”

Shouta sighed loudly, making sure he hit the switch so that Yamada would hear him. Yamada’s never-ending supply of bad metaphors was the last thing he needed right now.

“Calm down, Aizawa,” Yamada said. “Remember, all you have to do is sit there and look pretty, I’ll handle the talking.” There was a short fizzle of static as Yamada entered the pub and made his way to a secluded booth in the back corner. “Still read me?”

“Yeah.”

“Excellent. What’s your poison?”

“Pardon?”

“Beer? Wine? Shot of whiskey to settle your nerves?”

“You really want alcohol anywhere near all this equipment?” Shouta asked, bewildered.

“It’s just for show, who goes into a bar and doesn’t order anything? You shouldn’t drink anything they serve here anyway, their bartending is a bad joke,” Yamada said dismissively. “I just need to test the audio output and make sure we’re good to go before the main event.”

“Then just do it,” Shouta said shortly. “Didn’t you just say you were going to handle all the talking?”

“Everyone’s a critic,” Yamada muttered again. His usual flippant chill had gained an undertone of cranky tenseness that was less than reassuring. “Can I get a bottle of Sapporo?” Yamada said aloud in Shouta’s voice. Shouta just managed to turn toward the bartender in time for the question to seem natural. The bartender, a smirking woman with long brown hair held back in a red ribbon, gave him an appraising once-over. She seemed to be unimpressed with what she saw.

“Sure,” the bartender said. She reached into a cooler under the counter and came back with the bottle of beer, popping the lid off before placing it on the bar in front of Shouta.

“Thanks,” Yamada said, far more cheerfully than Shouta had ever said the word. Shouta nodded his own thanks and went to go sit at one of the high tables in a cluster near the front. He drummed his heel on the bottom rung of the bar stool. The bar was basically empty and silent other than the bartender’s phone playing lo-fi swing music from a speaker dock behind the bar. Otherwise it was just Shouta and his undrinkable beer killing time.

“Ohshit.” The words came out as a single noise hissed violently in Shouta’s ear, making him jump.

“What?” he hissed back, avoiding the curious look the bartender was giving him.

“Remember how I said there were some people who made this place a no-go area because they want to kill me?” Yamada said, sounding like he was talking through his teeth.

“Yeah?”

“That’s them coming in. Don’t look at them! Have you never been undercover in your life?” Yamada whisper-shouted as Shouta turned to look over his shoulder at the door. Almost immediately he snapped his head back around, trying to be as casual as possible about pulling the jacket’s hood over his head as he saw Takeshiro and his wife coming in and sitting a few tables away.

“You know them?” Shouta asked, hopelessly hoping Yamada actually meant someone else who was still outside.

“Ye-ep,” Yamada said, distaste drawing the word out several syllables longer than it needed to be. “They’re still kind of sore about a certain scene in a certain alley you might be familiar with.” He scoffed, then hissed, “Wait, you know them?” as Shouta’s tone dawned on him.

The alleyway. Shapes in the dark played back in Shouta’s head, fuzzy from time and panic but falling into clearer place with the new context. A short, stringy figure barking orders and bailing when things got complicated; the other taller and stocky and silent with a plant-based Quirk protecting him. Shouta gritted his teeth, annoyed by how clear the connection seemed now that it was right in front of him.

“Takeshiro works on the night crew in package processing. Takes a lot of sick days now that I think of it. I’ve never actually spoken to his wife but I’ve seen her at office parties before,” he said quietly.

“His wife? Ew,” Yamada said.

“You’re telling me they’re villains?” Shouta asked, ignoring him. Yamada snorted.

“So-called. They work for an egomaniac middleman called Seguchi. Hebiko is Seguchi’s left hand, and Takeshiro’s hers.”

“What did you do to make them want to kill you?”

“Their boss did something stupid with information that wasn’t his and got busted. I had nothing to do with it,” Yamada retorted tartly.

“Right, sure,” Shouta said. “Is this going to be a problem?”

“Nah, shouldn’t be,” Yamada said, though he didn’t sound entirely convinced. “This is why I planned things this way. No reason to bail out before anything happens.” Shouta was about to protest that it made a lot more sense to leave before there was a problem rather than scrambling when they were in trouble, but Yamada spoke first. “Heads up, you’ve got company.”

“So you’re Null.”

Shouta turned to see a lanky man with brownish hair and a narrow, rattish face standing slouched behind him with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his grubby jeans.

“Potentially,” Yamada replied. “You’re Raimaru?” His impression of Shouta’s voice was dead-on, which was bad enough on its own, but there was something just slightly off about his intonation that made Shouta’s skin crawl.

“That’s what they call me,” the man said. ”Getcha a refill while we talk?” he added, nodding at Shouta’s obviously untouched beer.

“I’m fine, thanks.” Shouta fiddled with the neck of the bottle to make it seem less like a static prop on the table in front of him. Even if Yamada had been against the idea of giving him a script to follow, some guidance on what to do in general might have been nice. He felt stiff and awkward, like a puppet whose puppeteer only had a vague idea of how natural movements worked.

“Suit yourself,” Raimaru shrugged. He ambled off to talk to the bartender, seeming to be doing his best to chat her up as she mixed his drink.

“‘Null’?” Shouta muttered to Yamada.

“Short for ‘nullify’, like your Quirk. Get it?” When Shouta just sighed in reply, Yamada added defensively, “Well, I had to call you something, didn’t I?”

“Did you?”

“What did you want me to say, ‘oh by the by you’ll be meeting my friend Shouta Aizawa, he’s thirty, single, a Scorpio, and lives in a single-occupancy uptown with three cats’?” Yamada retorted.

He technically had a point and Shouta hated that the most out of all the things he hated about this evening so far. Yamada had no time to gloat over the win, however, as Raimaru came back and dropped onto the stool across from Shouta.

“Kind of a hassle, having to be the face of cleaning up all of your boss’s bad behavior, huh? From what I’ve heard he’s got plenty to go around,” Raimaru said. Shouta privately agreed with the sentiment, but Yamada snorted instead.

“I get paid to go where I’m told, not to pass judgements,” Yamada replied stiffly. Shouta resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the defensive bluster. Raimaru laughed for him.

“I dunno about that. There’s plenty of judgement to go around if you want some,” Raimaru said. “Seems like the only books he can get into these days are peoples’ bad ones.”

“You think he gives a damn about anyone’s books other than his own?”

“I’m just saying I know a glorywhore when I see one. He spends all of his time making deals and playing nice and then suddenly people higher than him start going to jail,” Raimaru said. “Happened to Fukawa, happened to Seguchi, happened to Iwata. Hell, everyone knows he snitched and got Hanajima back in the day but Hanajima got shanked in prison and all his men scattered so nobody talks about him anymore.”

Shouta squirrelled the names away to research later, though other than those names Raimaru had said precious little to convince him that he knew much of anything besides Yamada’s surface reputation. So far his assertions had been vague at best and his “work, am I right?” tone was suspiciously chummy, like he was trying to nudge “Null” into letting something incriminating slip out.

“Why is any of this relevant?” Yamada asked. He sounded equally short on patience with Raimaru’s unsubtle attempts at currying favor. Raimaru gave a slightly passive-aggressive shrug.

“There’s a storm coming. A big one, one that’s gonna hit hard and rewrite a lot of rules about who’s in charge and who’s got a boot on their necks. You’re not gonna be in a great spot if you’re working for the Bird, so I thought you’d wanna know there’s better options,” he said. It was the first thing he’d said that sounded like he actually knew what he was talking about and it was not a reassuring change. Yamada, however, seemed unfazed.

“What, some new jumped-up ‘super’ villain with big plans for a criminal utopia?” Yamada said, unimpressed. “Seen ‘em come, seen ‘em go, nothing of value was lost. You asked me to come here because you had something valuable you wanted to trade. Is that still the case, or should I head out and stick you with the tab for wasting my time?”

“So, that’s a ‘no’ from you?” Raimaru asked, still grinning like someone had wired the corners of his mouth behind his ears.

“I didn’t hear a question being asked, but…” All of a sudden Yamada’s voice trailed off in a fizzle of static. Shouta tensed. He glanced out of the corner of his eye at Yamada, who met his eye with a look that was not quite panic but was very, very close to it. Yamada tapped his ear questioningly. Shouta twitched his head to the side in a negative. He saw Yamada mouth “Shit!” before his attention snapped back to the problem in front of him as Raimaru let out a short chuckle.

“Never a good idea to use radio signals around me,” Raimaru said smugly. “They usually end up a little...dead.” He casually brought the hand that had been under the table to rest on its surface. It was holding a large pocket knife, which he casually flicked open and closed as he spoke. All of the plastic had been stripped off of the knife, leaving behind just the blades and metal guts holding them together. As Shouta eyed it, the blade began to glow a smokey orange around Raimaru’s fingertips.

“I think we’re done here,” Shouta said, trying to match the off-cadence way Yamada had been using his voice all night.

This only seemed to egg Raimaru on, however, as he cranked his Quirk up another notch. Shouta felt a static prickling like the kind before a huge lightning strike setting the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck on end. A tinny shrilling feedback noise whined through his earpiece, making him jolt and hiss in sudden pain. Shouta gritted his teeth and set his own Quirk on Raimaru instead. A hasty decision, it turned out, as a sudden crash of noise hit him all at once. Yamada’s voice half-shouting in his ear was interlaced with loud snaps of static as the equipment reconnected. Shouta winced at the onslaught, clapping a hand to his ear before he could stop himself. The moment of distraction was all Raimaru needed.

“So the Bird’s doggy wants to bark, huh?” In one fluid motion Raimaru threw what was left in his glass in Shouta’s eyes and hooked a foot under the bottom rung of Shouta’s stool, yanking it from under him. Shouta toppled to the floor, landing hard on his ass and elbows as he futilely tried to catch himself as he fell. He blinked hard, tears streaming as his eyes burned with whatever had been in that glass. Raimaru grabbed him by the front of his shirt and dragged him partially upright.

“Things could have gone better for you, but it looks like the Bird just likes making things difficult,” Raimaru said.

Shouta dug his fingers into Raimaru’s wrist, trying to wrestle himself free. Raimaru smirked, a violent shock sparking off of his skin and into Shouta’s arm. Shouta let out a bark of agony as his entire arm below the shoulder seized and went numb. Someone else’s hand, large and thick-fingered, ripped his back by the forearm, twisting his hand back and up between his shoulder blades. Shouta stiffened. He hadn’t heard Takeshiro or his wife approaching during the scuffle but it was obvious now they had him surrounded. He thought of the alley and the way they had closed ranks around Yamada, accounting for every avenue of escape except for a one-in-a-million outside intervention. Shouta darted a look over to Yamada. Their eyes met for a split second that lasted an eon. Yamada’s eyes were wide and his face had gone deathly pale as he took in the scene in front of him. He was frozen half in motion, caught between breaking cover to come help and his desire to steer clear of Takeshiro and Hebiko. Shouta’s stomach sank as Yamada dropped his gaze, hunching in on himself and pulling his hat down farther to hide his face.

“Last chance, doggy,” Raimaru said. “That signal was too weak to come from very far away. Point us in the right direction and we’ll let you go, no hard feelings. Otherwise we send you back to your master in pieces.”

He leaned in as he threatened, and Shouta took the opportunity to show him how close was too close. Shouta reared back, then rammed his forehead into Raimaru’s nose at full force. As Raimaru reeled back, Shouta slammed himself back into Takeshiro, sending the man spine-first into the edge of a table. Takeshiro grunted in pain and Shouta twisted away from his grasp as Takeshiro tried to catch himself. Raimaru sank his fist into Shouta’s stomach, knocking the wind out of him, but Shouta managed to activate his Quirk again before Raimaru could shock him. Shouta retaliated with a sharp hook, jamming his fist into Raimaru’s solar plexus with as much force as he could muster. As Raimaru doubled over Shouta grabbed a fistful of his hair and slammed him face-first into the table.

“All right, ENOUGH!” the bartender yelled. She was floating above the bar with a warning look on her face, a thin metal pipe leveled at Shouta’s head. Shouta looked from her to Takeshiro and Hebiko, who had backed off behind their table again, to Raimaru, who was staring up from under his hand with undisguised disgust as he bled onto the table. Shouta took a moment to catch his breath, then released Raimaru. Not bothering to see if Yamada would follow, Shouta took the moment of peace to walk out of the bar.

The night air was cold and made his face feel closed in and sticky under the mask. Shouta jerked it down under his chin, sucking in a hard breath. The adrenaline in his veins felt like a cloying, choking compulsion to just run, escape, flee as fast as he could in any direction that would count as away. His lungs burned nearly as badly as his eyes, every new breath feeling like a sharp stab in the chest. A strange itching slightly farther down his abdomen joined the pain in his chest as he half-sprinted down the sidewalk. Shouta looked down and froze mid-step. The bare metal handle of Raimaru’s knife stuck out of his stomach at an almost perfect perpendicular angle, jammed in so far that the tip was pressing the rough kevlar of his stab vest against his flesh.

“Ho-ly shit that was a whole bunch of something.” Shouta didn’t look up from the knife almost in his gut as Yamada’s voice crowed out behind him. He felt Yamada digging in his pocket and retrieving the cell phone. “Could have gone better for sure, but also could have gone worse.” Yamada gave Shouta a cheery smack on the shoulder. “You and I make a pretty good team, huh? C’mon, let’s go find a nicer place to grab a bite and hang out until things die down.”

He paused like he fully expected Shouta to agree and follow after him, but Shouta was barely listening. His mind was still trying to process the knife handle sticking out of his stomach. The night “could have gone worse”? Raimaru had almost made good on the threat to send Shouta home in pieces while Yamada cowered in a corner booth, more worried about being seen than being helpful, and Yamada was congratulating himself for a job well done.

“Aizawa? Earth to Aizawa? Hey, are you okay? You’re shaking.” There was a note of real concern in Yamada’s voice as he reached out a hand to steady the trembling in Shouta’s body.

The idea of Yamada making any kind of physical contact snapped the last bit of sane civility Shouta had left in him. True fury, hot and fast and scraped raw by everything that was running through Shouta’s head, boiled over in his chest. He swung wildly at Yamada, hoping to make contact but hoping more just to fend him off as violently as possible. Yamada yelped and jumped backwards, hands coming up to protect himself.

“Whoa! What the hell--?” Yamada began, but Shouta was already swinging again. He wanted to make Yamada bleed, make him feel even half as agonized and afraid as he did right now. Yamada stumbled away from him, eyes wide in shock and confusion. His back hit the brick wall of a building and Shouta got right up in his face, Quirk blazing and teeth bared in a hateful snarl as he spoke.

“Let me be clear with this, so maybe you’ll hear it over the sound of your own voice,” Shouta said between clenched teeth. “We are not partners. We do not make a good team. We are sure as fuck not friends who hang out. You are a problem in my life that I am trying to solve. Get that through your thick skull and stop acting like we’re in this together.” He pulled the knife out and threw it violently at Yamada’s feet before turning on his heel and striding away as fast as his legs could carry him.

As soon as he staggered into his apartment and secured every lock and deadbolt on his door Shouta stripped down, dumping everything he’d been wearing in a heap in the entryway. Ignoring his cats’ cries for attention, Shouta went straight to the bathroom and ran the shower as hot as he could stand it. He could feel himself shaking now, the dregs of adrenaline making his legs weak rather than holding him up any longer. He sat down in his tub with the scalding water beating against his back, arms wrapped around himself. He looked down and saw a long irritated scratch rising on his stomach where the knife had dragged against him through the vest. Shouta let out a long, unsteady breath and closed his eyes. He’d been a vigilante for long enough to know that it meant going without any kind of help when things went from bad to worse to potentially lethal; until now not even his worst cases had shaken him like this. But those times he’d known the risk going in and taking it on had been his choice, which made all the difference. Yamada had known, though. Yamada had known they should have bailed as soon as their worst case scenario walked in the pub’s doors and he’d used Shouta as a human shield to try to get what he wanted anyway. Shouta gritted his teeth, nails digging into his palms as his hands balled into fists. He shouldn’t have expected anything less from someone like Yamada.

Never again, Shouta thought as he roughly toweled off. Yamada could keep his favors and his trade secrets and all the rest of it. He’d need all the help he could get, because as far as Shouta was concerned Yamada was on his own from this moment on.

#boku no hero academia #my hero academia #eraserhead bnha #eraserhead mha #present mic #erasermic #aizawa shouta #yamada hizashi #shouta aizawa #hizashi yamada #Fire Meet Gasoline AU #Quinny thinks she's a writer

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