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starboygrove · 2 years

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Surviving Eddie Munson - Chapter 19

Lucas is lying on his bed while lazily tossing a kickball up into the air with his legs dangling off the edge. He’s been home for maybe an hour tops and yet Dustin and Erica have been at each other’s throats the entire time, a conversation he has long since checked out of.

His eyes are tracing an invisible pattern in his ceiling when suddenly his ball is knocked clean out of the air, hitting the wall with a satisfying thwack. He quickly sits upright and glares at the culprit.

“Erica, I swear, you are seriously getting on my nerves today.” He hisses.

“Well excuse me, I must have missed the part where I asked for your opinion,” she bites back at him.

“We have another--” Dustin starts to say before Lucas cuts him off, holding a hand out in protest.

“Nope. I’m done. We have tried about a million different things and literally not a single one of them has worked!”

“But this one--”

“Uh-uh. You can do what you want, but I’m gonna go hang out with my friends and have a good time. It’s The Fourth of July,” he emphasizes the importance of the date with a pointed look.

“We can’t do this one without you, though!” Dustin cries out in desperation.

“Even better! Please, let’s just leave them alone and focus on blowing shit up and eating hot dogs like normal, sane people.”

Dustin looks highly disappointed but thankfully ceases anymore attempts to get Lucas to join in on whatever mad scheme he and his little sister have cooked up this time.

Erica just rolls her eyes and lets out an arrogant chuckle, waving them off. “In that case, I’m going to go see what Miki and Kim are doing later. Bye, losers!”

“Do you not care about protecting the sanctity of true love?” His friend complains from his spot in Lucas’ desk chair, pouting miserably.

“If it’s true love, then they’ll do it on their own time bro.”

Eddie is sitting on top of his van cross-legged, staring off into the distance, rhythmically tapping his rings on the warm metal roof. Max approached him last week and asked if he could take her to Billy’s grave today, so this morning he scooped her and El up and made the drive over to the cemetery, with an added promise of a pancake breakfast afterwards.

Understandably, Steve wasn’t all too keen on tagging along, considering what happened the last time. They’ve all done a good job at coping with their trauma and setting healthy boundaries, and he’s grateful he’s able to help in ways that his boyfriend can’t.

The girls have been sitting in front of the headstone for well over half an hour now, leaned up against each other with a box of tissues. Eddie vaguely remembers Billy from their time together in school during his second round of senior year, and while he would never say it out loud, he absolutely hated his guts. He was a bully to virtually anyone he crossed paths with, spewing some truly heinous shit without a single regard for the well being of those around him.

Despite his lack of redeeming qualities, Max was still deeply affected by his death, and it’s only natural for her to want to pay her respects. Eddie admires that about her, to do what she thinks is right even if it might be difficult

He lies down on his back to stretch out, crossing his ankles and lacing his fingers behind his head to give his neck some support. The sun crests through the clouds, shining warm light down onto him, and he starts to flush at the memory of last night. Only Steve could pick out one of his biggest childhood insecurities and turn it into something to be praised. For all his life, he’s been picked on for this and that, always for things completely out of control – like his complexion.

“Hey, can we go now?” A voice draws him out of his thoughts, startling him into a sitting position. He peers over the edge to find Max and El looking up at him with red-rimmed eyes.

“Yeah,” he breathes out his reply shakily before hopping down. Giving them a once over, he pulls the girls into a tight hug and gives a loving kiss to the top of their heads before hopping into the drivers seat.

“Eddie?” Max’s voice is uncharacteristically soft, and he uses his rearview mirror to get a look at her from her spot in the backseat. There is a beat of silence before she continues. “Thank you…for being the older brother I wanted him to be.”

“Robin, why don’t you wait in the car?” Steve says, leaning against the passenger side door and peering through the open window.

She’s halfway through unbuckling her seat belt and gives him a curious look before dropping her hands slowly.

“Really? You mean it?” She asks suspiciously.

“Yeah!” He snorts out a laugh. “I know how much you hate going into places like this, you can just chill in here until we get back.”

Robin beams up at him and nods in agreement, already rifling through her bag to pull out the latest book she has been devouring.

Steve leads the way into the little party supply store downtown, and Nancy is trying to piece together what his hidden agenda is for telling Robin to stay behind. They make it to the single use dinnerware section when he corners her with a scrutinizing gaze.

“You’re next,” he says ominously before pulling out a little plastic cake topper in the shape of a rainbow.

Nancy furrows her brows in bewilderment, not catching his drift. He sighs exasperatedly when he realizes, shoving a hand into his hair.

“I cannot believe that I know something you don’t,” he chuckles before tossing the cake topper aside. “It’s a, you know. A symbol. For the…us.”

Realization dawns on her and she laughs awkwardly, caught a little off guard from the implication. She’ll be the first to admit she has been having some thoughts for a little while now; ever since Spring Break, her mind supplies traitorously. What Nancy didn’t consider was the possibility of other people catching on, let alone Steve. She supposes, though, that at one point she did think of him as the only person who understood her completely.

That changed with Jonathan, of course. But they grew apart, with distance and time, and now there is a new person who has taken that seat. Someone who sees Nancy for who she truly is, all the good and the bad, a feeling that makes her feel pleasant and terrified at the same time.

She’s been able to distract herself with trying to get Steve and Eddie together, and then her brother and Will. Nancy never imagined that the same thing would happen to her.

Steve is looking at her with a warm, knowing expression on his face, and crap. She’s just been standing here next to the red white and blue solo cups, spacing out while thinking of Robin.

“Steve,” she says warningly. “I know you think what you’re doing is for my own good, but it’s not like that, alright? We’re friends, just friends.”

He peers down at her, stubbornly crossing his arms over his chest, cocking his head in defiance.

“I’m serious! Even if…that person liked me back, which they don’t, because we’re just friends, it wouldn’t work.”

“Why not?”

Nancy huffs in frustration, averting her gaze and glancing around the aisle for a way out of the conversation to no avail. “Because, it just wouldn’t. I’m going to Emerson in the fall, and Robin is going to the Cleveland Institute of Music.”

Steve breaks out into a shit-eating grin, and good heavens she wants to wipe it clean off of his face. She hates when he gets so disgustingly smug like this.

“She seriously didn’t tell you? Oh my god, am I not allowed to tell you? I feel like I have to tell you now.” He looks like a five year old on Christmas morning, vibrating with excitement.

“What, what is it?” Nancy questions impatiently.

“Nance, she’s not going to Cleveland. She’s going to the Boston Conservatory.”

#eddie munson #stranger things #steve harrington #steddie #steddie fanfiction #steddie fanfic #steddie fic #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson x steve harrington #eddie x steve #cross posted on ao3 #stranger things smut #steddie smut #steddie fluff

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emilyoftheshadows · 3 years

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Deja Vu

Hi! so this is a one-shot based off of olivia rodrigo's new song deja vu. It took a little longer than I thought to write, but here it is in all its questionable glory. Of course it is rowaelin because what else endgame couple would I write lol. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy!

wordcount// 1838

*****

Aelin felt sick to her stomach as she stared at her phone. The bright screen illuminated the disarray she had created around her. The bed covers were thrown recklessly around Aelin’s mattress, a package of half eaten oreos shoved between the twisted sheets. Bottles of alcohol were towered on the floor and nightstand, creating a maze that she had to maneuver around every time she left the softness of her bed. Tears stained Aelin 's cheeks, the sadness inside of her spilling out everytime she even thought of him. How his touch felt on her skin or how his lips used to kiss her forehead in comfort.

But all of that was over for her. Because he didn’t need her. Her love and her own problems only held him back, and Aelin knew it. She was a stain in Rowan’s perfect new life, and she would die before she let herself be the reason for any sadness he experienced.

So here she was, 6 months and 9 days after she had broken up with him. His face had been scrunched up in confusion, his emerald eyes glistening with tears as she had said her goodbyes. Aelin knew the breakup had hit him hard, but she consoled herself with the thought that once he got over their relationship, he would be free to live his dreams. Aelin would no longer be the unnecessary tether holding him back from his full potential.

Rowan had moved soon after the couple had ended university, taking a high end job at Maeve’s Publishing Co. in Doranelle. He had met his people, The Cadre as they were known to the locals. Working with his new team, Rowan had formed an unbreakable bond with the men he spent so much of his time with. As much as Rowan had found his new home in Doranelle, the opposite could be said for Aelin.

She had opted to stay in Rifthold, accepting her own high end job at Hamel Hotels working as their Brand Manager. At first, the glitz of the hotels and fast paced life had been exhilarating. That was until she had learned her boss was a demanding misogynist and occupied her time with insane projects and endless demands.

Her sour demeanor matched Rowan's exuberance head for head, and every visit she could see the concern etched in that beautiful face deepen with time. But when she went to visit Rowan in Doranelle, all Aelin saw was a makeshift family that he would have forever. The Cadre was working their way up in the publishing world, becoming an unstoppable force and you could practically feel the excitement buzzing throughout Rowan.

It was then when he was surrounded by his men eager for their future, that Aelin knew that she was a distraction. A miserable self loathing girlfriend who was holding him back from immersing himself into this new opportunity. So she took herself out of the picture, doing whatever was necessary to make sure he moved on from her.

She stopped answering his texts, let his endless calls go to voicemail, and unfollowed him on every social media site she had. After the third month, he finally stopped calling her everyday. The month after that, he stopped texting her. Although Aelin wanted this, she couldn’t help but be sad when she stopped getting his streams of i miss yous and hearts.

Aelin had gotten herself a dog after the breakup, focusing all her misguided love and intentions into the white beast that ate all her shoes and furniture. Using his pictures, she made an account for him and used this new anonymous account to stalk Rowan and his Cadre, plus the girl that used to occasionally join the men on their outings. Lyria was Maeve’s assistant and had been through just as much hell as they did, dealing with their bosses' incessant needs. Because of this, the crew often invited her out to the bars as a way to unwind from long days of work, sharing funny mishaps and complaining about Maeve together.

She told herself it was just to check up on him, to make sure he was okay, but she knew deep down that she could never fully separate herself from Rowan. This account was her only link to him, and as shady as it was, Aelin would be damned before she ever gave up the chance to get a glimpse into his life.

But as she focused on her phone, all previous thoughts for Rowan’s wellbeing flew out of her head. Because on Fleetfoot’s instagram feed, Lyria had posted a picture. The scene was innocent enough to any other person looking at it. She sat outside, the sun filtering in through the trees in the background of the photo. On the small table in front of her sat one cup of strawberry ice cream, a spoon poking out of the top of the scoop creating the picture perfect image. Her delicate hand with its perfectly manicured fingers grasped a tan hand almost twice the size of hers, emphasizing her petite features.

But that hand is what stopped Aelin in her tracks. Because as she looked at the post again, that hand led her to the face she adored most in the world. All too fast, she was consumed by his emerald green eyes, a hint of mischief shining in their center. His silver hair reflected the light around him, giving Rowan an ethereal glow as he posed for the camera. Other than slight dark circles under his eyes, he looked perfectly content. A soft smile graced his features and his clothes showed no clear stains or rumpled appearance.

Rowan was okay. He was absolutely fine. And Aelin was not.

Because whether he realized it or not, Rowan had recreated their own first date. As awkward college freshmen, the couple had gone to a family owned ice cream shop run by a friendly old man Emrys. They would return to that ice cream shop at least once a week after that first date, getting to know the owner and his partner Malaki. They had gotten strawberry ice cream, and Rowan had only asked for one spoon, insisting that he could just feed her himself whenever she wanted a bite. The buzzard didn’t even like sweets as much as she did, only wanting to make her suffer. They had sat on a bench outside the restaurant, laughing at how silly they both were and enjoying their newfound relationship. That memory used to always bring a smile to Aelin’s face, causing nostalgia for a simpler time in their lives. Looking at this recreation on her phone though, all Aelin wanted to do was scream in his face for how careless he was with their past.

That moment should belong to them, and them only. Her vision became blurred with tears, the image of his face distorting in front of her. All she could feel was a pit opening up inside her, clawing its way through her body until all she felt was numb. Her tears stopped running down her face, her hands stopped shaking, and she could finally breathe again. But Aelin no longer felt heartbroken for the bird boy who had made her dreams come true. No, all she felt was curiosity. A curiosity for whether or not he got deja vu when he was with her.

---

Rowan sat on his couch, staring at the photo in front of him. He had gotten back from his date with Lyria a couple of hours ago, guilt crashing over him every time he looked at her. Because Lyria wasn’t the woman that made his heart soar or his bones ache when he wasn’t near her. No, that feeling only belonged to his fireheart. The woman who could apparently no longer stand his presence in her life.

Aelin had broken up with him abruptly, pushing him away when he knew she needed him the most. Rowan wasn’t blind, he could see how unhappy she was in Rifthold. Arobynn Hamel was a pervert at best and Aelin deserved to have something or someone good in her life. And he thought he could be that someone, he really did. Rowan had already put in his two week notice to Maeve with hope in his heart and a ring in his pocket. He would do anything to make Aelin happy, and nothing would ruin them, not even the job of his dreams.

But apparently, they weren’t on the same page. Because when he had gone to visit her in Rifthold, ready to offer his life to her, she had crushed his spirits in less than 5 minutes. He had flown back home, but Rowan never figured out why she felt the urge to end their relationship. The lack of closure and the loss of the other half of his soul led him to ruins. For months he texted and called everyday, hoping that she would open up to him about her pain. But Aelin never answered. And she never texted. Next thing Rowan knew, he had stopped trying all together.

The Cadre did all they could to comfort him, but none of them were even close to understanding the aching pain he felt in his heart everyday. Lyria was the only one who could stand his somber demeanor, choosing to spend her breaks near his desk and chit chatting about office gossip during the slow days. At first, the distraction had been nice. But somewhere along the line, Lyria had become more serious about Rowan than he cared to admit.

Now here he was, with an almost-kind-of-talking-maybe-dating situationship that he didn’t understand even started. He mistook her friendliness for just that--friendship. But he also hadn’t stopped her. Deep down, Rowan knew that he was using Lyria, but he couldn’t help but keep the facade going on. Because if he was left alone again, Rowan didn’t think he would ever leave his apartment.

The nights were the worst, where he was alone with his endless thoughts, his regrets, his tears. The past 6 months had been rough, and if this was how he had to pick himself up again then so be it. Aelin sure as hell didn’t want him anymore and Rowan had to come to terms with it whether he liked it or not.

But still, sitting with his phone propped up in his hand, staring at his own face and the scoop of light pink ice cream in front of him, Rowan’s mind wandered to a simpler time. A time where they would be on a bench outside their infamous ice cream spot instead of the random ice cream parlor downtown. A time where Rowan’s eyes would be shining brighter staring into the deepest blue he had ever seen. A time where his fireheart would be taking that picture instead of the woman he strung along like a puppy dog.

Imagining his own heaven in his head combined with the bitter reality around him, Rowan felt a momentary sense of deja vu.

*****

Tag list

@rowaelinismyotp

@morganofthewildfire

@throneofmak

@whimsicallyreading

@live-the-fangirl-life

#rowaelin #deja vu

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notchesandbullets · 3 years

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Saving Her (Ojiro Mashirao x Wolf!Reader)

Art credits: @floatzxs

Part 11: Internship with Hound Dog, Aizawa’s totally not jealous. You and Shinsou get along great, except when you don’t. Kayama and Yamada’s endless teasing of Aizawa who’s turned into a total dad to you both. Heavily inspired by the picture above.

Word Count: 4.7k

Aizawa didn't like it.

You were getting way too close to the Hound Dog. He watched as you threw your head back and laughed at something he said, running around in circles around the pro-hero you were doing your internship under.

Yup, definitely way too close.

He tried to convince himself it wasn't because he was jealous. After all, you were the only one he called 'dad', right?

That had to mean something

He rubbed the back of his neck, letting out a frustrated sigh. Seriously, he was being too irrational.

You were on a security patrol with Hound Dog on campus, the hybrid teaching you how to put your enhanced senses to good use, looking for discrepancies in the air on a whim.

Aizawa knew you weren't going to ask him for him to take care of you and train you. You already knew he was busy with Shinsou, that kid in your general studies with a brainwashing quirk.

Sure, the two of you hit it off, his endless sarcasm and attitude bringing you out of your shell and causing the two of you to banter back and forth every time you were in the same vicinity.

It drove him up a wall.

But it was because you saw how much time he was dedicating to Shinsou that he knew you weren't going to ask him to train you as well.

So when Hound Dog extended you an opportunity for an internship, Aizawa couldn't turn you down once you turned those shining eyes on him.

You were all too eager when you asked him for permission, bouncing up and down the entire time you told him about it. He was pretty sure you made a point about it being a good way to prepare for the Quirk Traffickers just in case and that's what made him finally agree.

He never regretted the decision more.

Look, it wasn't because he didn't want you to get strong. Quite the opposite, in fact. You both had already been through all that and he didn't wasn't keen on the same misunderstanding happening again.

But he didn't see why it had to be with Hound Dog of all heroes.

True, your quirks were somewhat similar. And you seemed to get along really well. Not as well as you and him but it was decent enough.

Oh.

He stopped and stared.

I'm jealous, aren't I?

Turning away with a sigh, he headed back to his office. He had papers to grade and rowdy students to round up.

Several yards away, You danced rings around Hound Dog, waving your hands around excitedly.

He had been the one to help you design your hero costume. Clothing that was sleek enough to give you a speed advantage and a pattern that could conform to your surroundings would help you blend in with your environment without any trouble.

The utility belt around your hips held several throwing knives to make up for your lack of long-distance combat ability and canisters of ointment so you could administer first-aid on sight. Credits of the idea went to Todoroki when he showed you his one evening when you asked just before sparring.

Your shoulders and legs were built to withstand severe impacts, making you able to run faster and for longer periods of time without wearing them down.

Hound Dog had recommended combat boots and braces to reduce the strain on your muscles for your arms and legs while you engaged in combat, making it easier to fight knowing that you didn't have to worry too much about the repercussions.

Hatsume was a little too eager when she gave them your requested upgrades but that girl was damn gifted so you didn't complain.

"Watch out for that wire." Hound Dog barked at you as you aimlessly almost crashed into a tree.

It wouldn't do anything except set off an alarm and put up UA's defense grid. Which is why he couldn't have you tip it off.

The pro-hero shook his head as you righted yourself sheepishly. You were like a pup, literally. Still, it was rather endearing. He didn't have any children but if he did, he reckoned that they'd be a lot like you.

"Eraser's kid, come on." He growled and you pouted, stomping your foot childishly.

"I have a name!!" You huffed, hands on your hips indignantly.

"Yeah, Eraser's kid. Now let's go." He ordered and you passed by him with a small frown, crossing your arms over your chest.

Rude.

You were happy though. After all this time, you had someone you could call dad. It was weird but in a homely sort of sense. You rather liked it.

The two of you patrolled UA's grounds without much trouble. He taught you the route to take as well as escape paths in place if you ever found yourself in a tough situation you couldn't get out of.

UA's sensors were top-grade, one of the best security systems in the country, but he had to prepare you for all scenarios. Just in case.

You padded behind him as you made your way through the thicket that surrounded the school, thanking him as he helped you pick your way through the forest.

There were a bunch of hidden traps and you were surprised when he told you the reason behind it.

"UA's been reforming security since the USJ incident." Hound Dog snarled in what you figured to be equal parts anger and irritation. "Remember, if you're going to go anywhere after hours for any reason, you must have a guardian with you, is that clear?"

You nodded firmly, unfazed by his aggression. It wasn't like you had thought about breaking the rules, even if there was a certain charm to it that enticed you, you were sure it would give Aizawa and Ojiro a heart attack.

Soon, it was time for a lunch break.

You were pretty surprised when he suggested a hunt but were extremely enthusiastic at the prospect of satisfying your instincts. The urge to maul and maim only came about if you were starving and even then, it was still possible to suppress it if you concentrated long enough.

Creeping around a tree, you utilized the foliage as a cover as you crept up on an unsuspecting prey.

You didn't make a sound as you crouched down, hiding between the blades of grass. Your lips drew back in a snarl as you locked on your target, springing on it and catching it by surprise. With one swipe, you killed it and took it in your jaws to carry back to where Hound Dog was.

He raised an eyebrow at you as you practically pranced over to him, beaming proudly at your first kill in a decade.

It had been far too long since you had a fresh kill.

You licked your lips as soon as you set it down in front of him as some sort of peace offering, wagging your tail as you waited for him to say something.

But you shrunk back and whimpered as he glared at you.

"Sloppy!!!" He bellowed, howling with spit spraying from his muzzled mouth. "Your control needs work!!!"

Your ears drooped and your eyes saddened but you nodded meekly.

Hound Dog sat back on his hunches. He had watched you closely while you hunted and seen what you could improve on.

"You need to work on your patience." He growled out gruffly and huffed when you fixated your large eyes on him. "You almost let it escape. Just because you were able to pin it down in time doesn't mean you did it right!! That was only the result!!"

You hung onto his advice, finding it sound beneath his brash way of wording it and trying to learn as much out of it as you can.

"You're fast but you're not as strong yet." Hound Dog stated, pointing to the shoes on your feet. "Hatsume made those specifically for your speed so your surprise attack should come from behind, not the front."

He scratched his head, grumbling out reluctantly, "But it wasn't bad for your first kill."

You sat up straighter at the begrudging praise, eyes shining and a huge smile stretched from ear to ear.

"Grrrr, but don't let it go to your head!!!" He snapped, pushing your fresh kill towards you so that you could eat it.

Your smile got impossibly wider and you nodded so fast your ears flopped back and forth.

"Eraser's kid, huh?" Hound Dog mused to himself as he collected firewood so that you could cook it.

Although the both of you could eat it raw, you both preferred it cooked unless you were in a particularly savage mood.

He huffed as he gathered a bunch of sticks for kindling.

"She's already strong."

After school let out, you walked home with your purple-haired friend from your general studies class. Annoying little brat.

You found out in a very short period of time that you could not stand him when he got like this. Ever since he found out about your little crush on Ojiro, he hadn't let up.

"Don't you dare." You seethed through clenched teeth as he dangled your notebook in front of your face. "Shinsou, I'm warning you."

The two of you were sitting in Aizawa's living room area. School had let out an hour ago and knowing that your teacher/parental guardian would be going home for the weekend, you two had decided to tag along and bug him.

Unable to get rid of the two of you annoying leeches, Aizawa had firmly instructed the two of you to at least get started on your homework if you were going to be here.

An array of textbooks spread out in front of you while the TV played in the background. You had studied and got through a decent amount of reading but that had only worked for all of ten minutes.

Shinsou smirked, keeping it high above his head. "If you want it, come and get it."

You snarled, pouncing on him before he could blink. The one good thing about the way his quirk worked was that you had to answer his question or jib. It was good because you only ever growled at him when he got like this.

He shoved your face and you whined as your fingertips brushed your notebook, licking his hand.

Shinsou recoiled in disgust. "Ew, Y/N!! That's so gross!!!"

"Serves you right!!" You quipped, grabbing at the spiral that was kept out of your reach. "Give it backkkkk."

"Oh no," He said with a smug smirk. "Not until I see just how many times you wrote Y/N x Mashirao with hearts drawn around it in here."

Before he could follow through with that threat, the notebook was snatched from his hand, the cry of outrage dying on the tip of your tongue. Your eyes flickered up to your dad who was now hovering above the both of you. You hadn't even heard him come in.

He was dressed casually, his hair pulled back away from his face, revealing his scar that he had gotten when the League attacked his students and instead of his hero costume, he was wearing sweatpants and a black, long-sleeved shirt.

Coffee, his tortoiseshell cat, purred at his feet as he fixated a glare on the two of you for not behaving.

"If you have time to play around then maybe you'd like more work to do." Aizawa threatened Shinsou before turning to you. "And you should know by now not to respond to him when he's like that, he's just provoking you."

You hung your head, pushing out your bottom lip as far as it would go.

He sighed, walking over and patting your head. "It's alright, kid. I know you're just playing."

You tail thumped happily in response at being let off the hook.

Shinsou's mouth twisted down into a frown. "Hey, why are you coddling her and not me?"

Aizawa promptly smacked him over the head and the teen winced at the brute force that his mentor delivered.

"Because she's been through a lot and you're being a cheeky brat." He deadpanned.

You flinched as Shinsou turned his sharp glare on you, but relaxed when you saw him soften slightly, letting you know that he was just teasing. Wiggling your eyebrows playfully, you snickered but hid it quickly as Aizawa's attention snapped to you next.

"Oi, you two better get along." Aizawa ordered, turning to leave the room to go back to where Kayama and Yamada were at. "If I hear one peep out of either of you, there will be consequences."

"Yes, sensei." You both chorused together, but not before sharing an evil look with each other that passed under his radar as he left to continue the conference.

The second he stepped out, all hell broke loose.

Your eyes shot to him when he stood up, taking up the practiced stance Aizawa had been teaching him, gesturing for you to do the same. You popped up to your feet but you didn't get a chance to swing as he rushed at you.

"Don't you even think about— SHINSOU, YOU IDIOT!!!!!"

Your shriek carried clearly to the other room and the three teachers sitting in Aizawa's office.

"Aw, isn't that precious." Kayama cooed, resting her chin in the palm of her hand and drummed her fingers on the table she was sitting at.

Yamada was sprawled upside down on his couch, nearly falling off and crashing to the ground when the shared wall between you guys and them shook.

"Uh, Shouta." He called to his best friend as he sighed in exasperation, the underground hero pinching the bridge of his nose. "Aren't you going to take care of that?"

Aizawa groaned, his head lolling back to thump against the opposite wall. "I'm too tired for this."

Kayama's grin grew mischievous and her eyes sparkled. "Shouta, they're your children for goodness sake!!"

Yamada matched her crazy smile and he flailed a bit before getting the right equilibrium to sit up straight. "He's a dad!! It finally happened!!!"

The rugged underground hero threw a pillow at both of their faces to get them to stop laughing as his best friends chortled obnoxiously.

"Shut up." He grumbled, throwing an arm across his face.

He flinched as the racket kicked up from the living room suddenly stopped at the sound of a very loud crash.

Aizawa stalked towards the door and ripped it open, narrowing his eyes until they became slits. "If they broke anything..."

The other two shared a knowing glance with each other.

"He's going to chew them out for messing up his living room." Kayama gloated, bounding over to peek outside so she could see what was going on.

Yamada skipped over, tripping over his feet in his haste to not be left behind. "Then he's going to feel bad and then he's going to leave and let them do it again."

"Discipline, Shouta," Kayama tsked as she murmured. "You need to discipline them."

Raising an eyebrow at her, he commented, "That sounds a little weird coming from you, Nemuri."

"Oh hush!!" She snapped, smacking him on the arm so hard that he yelped. "Not like that!!"

Her energy and bubbly nature resurfaced as she heard Aizawa doing exactly what she and Yamada panned out.

"He's such a dad." She crooned, wanting to see how you were wrapping him around your finger this time around.

It always was the most entertaining thing, seeing her stoic best friend crumble underneath your adorable pouts and watery puppy eyes. It never failed to force Aizawa to throw up his hands and give into you.

Soft Dadzawa was the best.

You and Shinsou lowered your heads as Aizawa strictly admonished the two of you.

The once clean and tidy living room had been thrown out of order and you had feathers in your hair. You weren't exactly sure how Shinsou managed to rip the pillow as he was throwing at you, but you weren't keen on finding out now.

You yelped in pain as Aizawa smacked you upside the head, giving the same treatment to the sheepish-looking boy next to you.

"Honestly." Aizawa exhaled forcefully, gripping his head, frustration coming through clear. "What am I going to do with the two of you..."

You grinned but bit your lip when he shot you a glare, blinking up innocently at him.

Shinsou chuckled, petting Coffee nonchalantly as she climbed into his lap, smiling as the cat purred, loving the attention he gave her.

Aizawa sighed, done for now. He had things he had to finish so that the two loudmouths waiting in his office would leave. He wanted to sleep.

"Thirty minutes."

You and Shinsou straightened up at the tiredness in his voice, casting a slightly worried look between the two of you. You had heard him angry and frustrated but never tired like this. He must really be exhausted.

Aizawa took no notice of the silent dialogue between the two of you. "Can you two please behave for that long?"

He was surprised when there was no snark from Shinsou or witty answer from you as the two of you bowed at him but thought nothing of it as he left the room once more.

If either of you kicked up a racket like that again, he would send Yamada out to deal with you.

As soon as the door closed behind him, the two of you were up on your feet but now for another reason entirely.

"Where is it?" You asked, looking in every cabinet but coming up short.

"Here."

You caught what Shinsou tossed you, nodding in thanks. Opening the garbage bag, you got to work, picking up what you had broken while he grabbed a broom and swept up the feathers littering the floor.

In all of ten minutes, everything was cleaned and put back in its original position and the two of you returned to your studies.

Aizawa was shocked to find you in that same position another twenty minutes later when he was showing his nosy colleagues out the door but didn't comment on it, merely shoved Kayama out when she cooed at how cute you two were.

She tried to whine in protest. "But Shouta—"

"Get lost, Nemuri."

Shinsou frowned as Coffee jumped up from his lap as the door slammed closed, making her way over to Aizawa.

"Mean." He said under his breath, making you laugh.

You closed your notes and textbook, done for the day. Packing them away, you noticed Shinsou had finished, too.

"Want to walk back together?" You asked.

He snorted, smirking at you. "No."

You stuck out your tongue, puffing out your cheeks at him. "Rude."

He ruffled your hair and you scowled, swiping at him but he darted out of reach before you could grab him. You two squabbled all the way to the front door, just about to put on your shoes when there came a quiet murmur from the edge of the kitchen.

"Are you hungry?"

You froze and Shinsou cocked his head, turning around slowly. Aizawa's frame was braced against the corner of the wall somehow when you weren't paying attention, he had rolled up his sleeves, revealing countless scars and a lot more muscle than you originally thought.

His eyes narrowed at his students. "You two didn't eat yet."

"Ah..." Shinsou winced. "It's alright, sensei, I have some food back at the dorm."

Without changing your expression, you deadpanned. "He's lying."

"Y/N!!!"

Squealing as he charged at you, you launched yourself into your dad's chest, hoping he would protect you.

"Dad, Toshi's being mean again!!!" You cried as Shinsou chased you.

"Get back here!!" Shinsou mock snarled, snapping his teeth at you.

You clutched on tighter to Aizawa's shirt, sending him a pleading look.

He sighed but even you could tell he was holding back a smile as he put an arm around you while warding off his student with the other.

You slyly stuck your tongue out at the defeated brainwashing kid but your dad caught the action.

"Y/N..." He warned. "Don't instigate."

"Yes, Dad." You said seriously, snuggling into his side before peering back up at him. "Can Toshi stay for dinner?"

You already knew he wanted to cook for you. That much was evident when he asked if you had eaten yet. He had this uncanny habit of doing things indirectly and with how much you knew Shinsou was like him, you knew if you called him out on it, the two would flatly deny that that's what he meant.

Better to play along.

Not that you were complaining. Aizawa's home cooking was actually really good, when he had the time and energy for it. Usually, you did most of the cooking, having enough skills thanks to Sato to make things that were edible.

"Only if he wants to." Aizawa told you before glancing up at Shinsou shuffling his feet awkwardly. "You're more than welcome to, kid."

Shinsou didn't say anything at first but he moved closer to you guys, away from the front door.

"Are you sure, sensei?" He asked, a hint of worry swimming in the depths of his eyes, afraid he wasn't being genuine.

That he was only asking out of politeness and that he didn't really want him there. But looking at you, he only saw pure, radiating hope in your gaze.

You were being honest with him and though Aizawa's was vastly more subtle, he saw the truth in his teacher's eyes, too.

Shinsou nodded hesitantly, his own way of answering and you beamed.

"Great!! I'll get started!!"

You dashed into the kitchen, pulling out the vegetables and started the fire to get the water boiling for the noodles. Your dad had already pulled out and marinated the meat for tonight, all that was left was to cook it.

But in all your excitement, you were moving a little too fast.

Aizawa stiffened, then shook his head as another crash could be heard from the kitchen, followed by a sheepish 'oops'.

He crossed his arms over his chest, already making his way over to where Shinsou couldn't see. "Kid..."

"It wasn't me, I swear!!" You blurted out.

Pouting as you were banned from the kitchen anyways, you skipped over to where Shinsou was awkwardly sitting on a chair by the table. He looked so uncomfortable.

You frowned, then beamed as a light bulb went off in your head.

He leaned back warily as he saw the glint of mischief in your eyes as you came closer. "What are you doing?"

"Aw, you don't trust me?" You asked playfully.

"Never." He retorted and you pouted childishly.

"Meanie."

He waved you off but you could already tell he was much more relaxed than before. "Yeah, yeah, yeah. So, what did you want?"

You gestured for him to come closer so your dad wouldn't hear and whispered in his ear. "I know where he keeps his capture weapon and goggles."

Shinsou tried but even he couldn't wipe the excitement off his face fast enough. He never told you but he was a hardcore Eraserhead fan, even before coming to UA. Since he was an underground hero, there was no media coverage on him, no merchandise to be sold in stores but he knew.

Aizawa had saved him once, a long time ago.

His parents were rich and completely absent from his life. He didn't grow up with a family because they were never around and he didn't grow up with friends because of his quirk.

Independent from a young age, he had distanced himself from almost everybody, living a life of solitude no matter how many presents his parents tried to throw at him to buy his love.

He was glad that he moved out of their ridiculous mansion ages ago, moving in with a cousin until he was old enough to live on his own, but what he didn't plan on was being attacked by a villain one day as he was walking home from school.

Aizawa had saved him back then, acting quickly to rescue him and take down the other.

Shinsou once questioned that if this hero knew back then how villainous his quirk was, would he have saved him?

Of course he would have. And that's what spurred on his decision, his path that he wanted to take.

All because of Eraserhead.

It thrilled him when his hero, his idol himself, offered to train and teach him personally how to become a hero before his transfer into the hero course. When he approached him after the sports festival, he almost passed out right then and there.

That must have been what a lot of people experienced towards All Might.

He never talked about his admiration of him before though, so you must've been much more observant than he gave you credit for.

Shinsou attempted to look disinterested at your proposal. "Really?"

Your grin grew wider and you grabbed his hand, hauling him up out of the chair as you snuck into Aizawa's room. You knew how much he wanted to see them up close and try them out, even if he wouldn't admit to it.

"Come on!!" You giggled, ushering him inside quickly and digging into the nightstand by the futon.

Needless to say, when Aizawa found the two of you once dinner was ready, Shinsou was caught red-handed with his capture weapon on and his trademark goggles on his face.

Even with both the scarf and goggles covering his face, you could still see him turn bright red as he was caught by his mentor.

"Don't worry!!" You threw over your shoulder as you flounced away, leaving the two of them alone. "He's not mad!!"

Shinsou tensed as the door closed behind you, ripping off everything as fast as he could even though it would've prevented what had already been done. A hand on his shoulder halted him.

Aizawa's mouth twitched and his gaze held a glimmer of amusement. "Cool, right?"

Rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, Shinsou nodded and apologized for trying them on without his permission, embarrassed beyond belief.

The older man tried to soothe his worries by casting him a purposeful look. "You know, it might come in handy later on."

Tucking away his capture weapon and goggles, Aizawa pretended not to notice how Shinsou's jaw dropped in shock at what he was suggesting for him.

"If you go to the Development Studio, I'm sure they could make something similar for you." He told him while suppressing a proud smile.

He had come so far since the Sports Festival. He had trained hard on his own and while he was already proud of him for all his efforts and his drive, to have him admire a gruff, anti-social man like him sent warmth blooming in his chest.

Shinsou couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Would...."

He swallowed thickly, pushing aside his pride and the remnants of his embarrassment.

"Would you teach me how to fight with it?"

Aizawa's mouth quirked up in a small smile. "Sure thing, kid."

Shinsou thought that was the last behind him when he followed his mentor out the door to go eat the dinner waiting for them. You were already at the table, portions served out, kicking your feet as you waited impatiently for them.

But Aizawa wasn't finished.

"The goggles suited you." He commented nonchalantly, causing the boy's face to flush in embarrassment once again.

"Aizawa-sensei!!" Shinsou protested.

You doubled over, clutching your stomach. "Good one, Dad!!!"

Looking on fondly as the two of you began to bicker, you teasing Shinsou and him furiously defending whatever dignity he had left, Aizawa's smile softened.

You two.

He guessed he didn't mind that it was the two of you.

Taglist: @katsukis-sad-angel

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blissfulparker · 4 years

Text

Flashing lights pt.2→Prince!tom

Parings→prince!tom x Princess!reader

Summary→ when two kingdoms come together to form allies, A marriage between you and tom will hold that bond. you and tom have to learn to love each other. In front of cameras and media it’s love at first sight. alone it’s scarce touch’s and innocent looks scared to know each other.

Warnings→smut

Wc: 5k

A/n→there’s no read more I’m really sorry Because this is so long🥺🥺but I hope you enjoy!!

Pt.1 here

Stolen glances and forbidden touches ran you and Tom's new relationship. At dinner it would be his foot touching yours, reminding you that he’s there when you two were mostly swept into different conversations. In meetings you would find ways to touch him, it could be his shoulder to ask if he was still with you or it would be a soft hand brush while reaching for a pen. Each passing day you two would find new ways to show each other you cared, a relationship that was so new needed so much love.

It had been almost two weeks since the night you and tom first shared alone. Two weeks of that built up tension and now you were two months away from the wedding. Almost all talks and meetings were about you and Tom's wedding. The royal wedding for all the world to see. To you and Tom you were on the border of loving each other so dearly, you had found home in Tom and he had found his true self in you.

It was now the middle of the day. You and Tom had not gotten a chance to see each other at all. He slept through breakfast on accident while you were pulled away into a meeting. It was now 4pm and tom had not touched you once, not even locked eyes with you once all day.

“And for the charity we are going with a gatsby theme this year—“ Tom tuned out the talks of the men who walked with him. His brothers and royal members talked about something he's already heard in the meeting earlier. His mind tired and thinking about what it would be like to sneak off to your bed tonight, his mind races at the thought of it. The thought of your legs tangled with his and your lips kissing his neck—

“Tom,” his best friend snapped him out of his daydream. Only he and his brothers knew what was happening between the two of you. How well you two were getting along. “Are you with us?” he asks. Tom presses his lips together with a hum and nods, keeping his eye out for you knowing that the three of them were getting close to the bedrooms.

At this time you were either at your bedroom or you were out and about at a meeting. His eyes watch your door but nothing happens as he walks past it, only the wood stares back at him as he fiddles with his fingers to keep his focus. He knows he'll find himself back at your room later tonight. He knows your legs will intertwin and his lips will meet yours, your eyes will flicker like flames as you try to take him all.

His hand goes to his ring finger. The family ring that was now passed on to him. The gold hugged his finger tight. At first he didn’t wear it around the house, he felt wrong not knowing you that well and he took it off. Same with you, you only wore the ring when they told you to, so in public settings and royal gatherings. You still barely wore the thing. The thing that cost more than you could imagine, you wore so many girls dream ring but in the beginning despised it.

“Princess.” The voice snaps you out of your trance. You almost forget you’re being fitted for a dress. You don’t recognize yourself in the mirror, the Snow White dress with details so defining, it hugs you perfectly, makes you wish the lies to the media were all true. That you actually met Tom years ago and it was love at first sight. You wish you didn’t meet him for the first time in front of your family’s, greeting each other in awkward ways.

But now things were different, you and Tom had slowly learned to love each other. Sneaking away with each other was all in the fun of it, stealing kisses and glances was all a part of the beauty.

“It looks gorgeous.” You turn to the woman who fitted you. She has a bright smile, vibrant red lips as she steps back with her hands over her heart.

“You look absolutely beautiful, anyone would be lucky to be you.” She tells you and you smile looking at the dress.

This was it, this was the dress you’d be wearing in only a matter of months to yours and Toms wedding. Your hair would be done to look it’s best and the makeup would make you want to hold back all your tears.

“Thank you.” You tell her and she goes back to undo the dress as you just wanted to try it on. By yourself and not with your mother, Toms mother, and all the women around to tell you about it. You wanted it to be a surprise, a surprise for everyone.

For Tom seeing you walking down that isle in that dress would be the best surprise in the world.

The sun fell down and the sky turned into a soft pink. You curled yourself in bed with a book. Tom missed dinner, that wasn’t Normal of him. You didn’t think much about it since his mother had just said he was busy. Busy with what? You didn’t know. As long as you’d see him soon you’d be okay.

“I don’t think he’s coming tonight, girl.” You look at the dog, Tessa, that laid at the end of your bed. She gave you sad eyes and took a liking to you when you had gotten here.

“I know, I wanted him to come too.” You reach for scratch her head. “He’s all stressed out about the wedding and everything going right is it weird that I’m completely calm about it?”

“No, I don’t find it weird at all.” His voice deep and thick as he calls out to the room. You jump a little and place your hand over your heart.

“You scared me half to death!” You tell him, you pull the covers off of your body and walk over to him. “I thought you might’ve been asleep.” You told him and he wraps his arms around your waist.

“Mmh, and you didn’t want to come lay in bed with me? How rude.” He gives you a teasing scowl as he leans in to quickly kiss his lips.

“You know if your family sees us sleeping in the same room before the wedding they’ll flip.” You run your fingers though his hair.

“Yeah, They’re old fashioned like that. I hate it. It’s the 21st century I should be able to sleep in the same bed with my fiancé. I should be able to touch my fiancé before my wedding too.” His hand lowers down farther to give your ass a playful squeeze.

“You tease so much.” You kiss his cheek before noticing the lack of color in his face. He was so stressed, it was the wedding, the upcoming ball, the press pushing him more and more about you and his duties.

“You’re stressed.” You tell him and he shakes his head.

“I don’t want to be worried about being stressed when I’m with you, I just want to fall asleep, wake up at four to go back to my bed, And do this all again tomorrow.” He tells you and you sigh.

“You can tell me things you know, tell me what’s on your mind I won’t judge you.” You promise him. His eyes are a soft honey color in the lighting of the moon, his face filling with more freckles as the sun stays out longer. His muscles much tighter as he was working out more and playing more sports. All the nights you’ve been close, close to stripping all clothes and taking each other as if you were each other’s water and you were dying. So close but something always happens.

“Tell me.” You seduce more. You place a kiss on the left side of his neck, a kiss on his Adam’s apple, a kiss on the right side of his neck, a kiss on his jaw, he was withering under each kiss. “What’s hurting my boy?” You kiss his jaw and he lets his head fall back to allow you to keep kissing.

“I just can’t wait to be with you. All of this will be worth it in the end.” He pulls you in closer to him and now brings your chin in for a kiss. He places a soft yet passionate kiss on your lips. His hands move up your back and feel the silk straps of the night dress in his hands. He could easily flick them off and like that you’re his, under him nude. You could do the same for him, one untie of his sweats and remove his shirt and he was naked before you.

“I-I tried their dress on today.” You stop him. Hands on chest to tell him the news.

“The wedding dress?” He looks at you in shock. Eyes wide and his mouth agape.

“Yeah,” you look down, tapping your fingers on his chest. “I went dress hunting with your mom last week and I saw it but didn’t try it on. My mom doesn’t land until Saturday but I was so eager I called the shop and snuck down to try it on. No one saw me but it’s the one, it’s definitely the one.” You tell him with a soft smile and he can’t help but to grow one himself.

“T-that’s amazing! Oh my god when do I get to see it?” He asks and you playfully hit his chest.

“Our wedding day when else?” You laugh and he drops his shoulders.

“I don’t get a sneak peak or anything? I don’t even get an idea of what it looks like? No pictures or anything?” He acts upset when he’s really just playing with you.

“No, no, and no. It’s bad luck and trust me this whole relationship ran on luck.” You laugh and he kisses your cheek softly.

“Yeah but I’d say pretty good luck huh?” He smiles and you nod. “Sleeping beauty should get some rest then, she had a long day.” He caresses you’re cheek and you roll your eyes at his newfound pet name for you.

“You should too, your eyes are so pale, like a zombie.” You tease and this time he rolls his eyes.

You lead him to the bed where you both get comfortable under the covers. Tessa moves off the bed and to her dog bed you had created for her to sleep in at night.

When both comfortable you roll over to face Tom. His shirt now off after he’s complained several times about how it makes his skin dry and itchy. You didn’t believe that but whatever made him comfortable.

“Are you just stressed about the wedding?” You move a curl from his face and he holds your wrist moving your hand to rest on his cheek.

“I’m worried everything will go wrong honestly.” He tells you, he wasn’t shy of you after a few weeks of being together. You trust each other like you knew each other a thousand years.

“What do you mean?” You ask, his hand holds your back and massages soft circles.

“I mean what if I hurt you? My family hurts you? The public-anyone! What if I’m not as good as they make me out to be?” His voice cracks and you move closer.

“You wanna know what I think?” You ask and he nods. “I think you’re not going to hurt me. I think you’re a wonderful person and I’ve only been here for a month but no one understands me like you, y-you care so much tom. You care so much about everyone but yourself and I don’t care what the public says. You’re not ever going to hurt me.” You kiss his forearm that’s in your sight. A soft kiss that his eyes follow. “I promise.” You whisper as you reach up and kiss him. A kiss where he holds your face and makes sure you know he’s thankful for you. A kiss where he makes sure to remember when he wakes up.

“I want to honeymoon away from paparazzi,” he kisses some more, crawling on top of you, your hands hold on his shoulders while his for arms rest besides your head. “Anywhere but no cameras, just us.” His eyes open to look at you, your face soft and glowing.

“I want that,” you smile nodding, you pull his face down kissing him again, not wanting to miss a second with him. “I want you.” Your hands fall from his face and roam his chest, tease all the way down to the jaw strings of his sweats.

“Wait-“ he stops you looking down at you. He knows you’re a virgin. He knows that your first real kiss was in the library. He knows you’ve been protected your whole life for he had went to parties when he was a teen, had secret girlfriends, had sex often times out of spite, you two were different. He didn’t want to hurt you, he didn’t want you to regret this. “I’m not pressuring you to do anything. I’ll go back to my room right now if you’re uncomfortable.” He tells you and you shake your head. He climbs off you nervous of what’s next.

“No, no, I want this I do! Do you not want this?” You bite your lip scared that maybe you had read everything wrong.

“I do, I do and I’ll be gentle. I promise, tell me when I hurt you and tell me anytime if you’re uncomfortable we’ll stop, we’ll stop and I can leave if you’d like.” He promises and you lean in close to him, wanting him so badly.

“I want this.” You kiss his cheek. His arms go around you once again and place you back on your back once again.

His lips meet yours and trail down your neck to your chest, his fingers slip under the straps of the dress letting them fall off your shoulders and give him access to pull down the dress.

“This okay?” He asks and you nod already having your head thrown back and eyes shut. “Words, Princess.” He says and you breathe out a yes.

His lips trace down your stomach, his hands large on your thighs pulling them over his shoulders as he went down.

“Are you okay with this?” his words in a whisper. Your hands tangle in his hair, the curls no long in their perfect form but fluffy against your hands. Everything felt euphoric, his hands grip tight at your thighs as you squirm and his eyes flicker up to see your eyes screwed shut.

It was only seconds until you reached your high and melted in his hands like gold. His thumb wipes his mouth before coming up to meet with you again. Your breathing uneasy, beads of sweat on your chest and forehead.

Your hands go to touch him but he shakes his head.

“No,” he touches some of your hair before letting you fall back into the pillow. “This was about you, i want this to be about you.”

“But you-” you start and he shakes his head.

“Uh-uh.” his eyes take in every feature of yours. “I'm going to clean up.” he told you, getting out of bed and moving over to the bathroom where he ran the water over his face. You smile into the pillow, you feel your body burning and you can't stop smiling. You love him. You don't want to tell him yet but you love him. Love him more than anything.

“Not too tight please!” you suck in a breath as your mom tightens your wedding dress. The day was finally here. The white dress runs off your body and Toms mom fixes your hair.

You thought you'd hate Tom, absolutely despise being with him. When you got here you were so scared and mad you didn't even want to look at him but now you couldn't wait to stand in front of him. Maybe it was the way he made you feel like home that first night in the library. How he kissed you for the first time and promised not to hurt you. How he snuck into your room every night. How he taught you how to golf even if you were still terrible at it, it was him teaching you that he loved.

“Oh relax sweetheart,” your mom tied the final knot and turned around to look at you. “You look beautiful.” she has tears in her eyes.

“Thank you.” you try to speak normally but it comes out as a whisper.

“Are you ready?” she asks you and you nod. She gives you a kiss on the cheek before holding your hand to lead you out to your father.

When the music starts and the doors open you can see Tom at the end. In his own suit, his hair gelled back and he rocked back and forth on his heels as he waited. His eyes wide when he saw you, he bit his bottom lip and eyes watered at the sight.

“Wow.” he mouthed and you smiled at him from the distance. Cameras watched you two as you got married. A royal wedding where there were cameras, people you've never even met, and it felt like it lasted forever but tom made it go by all the quicker.

You listened to people tell you how beautiful you looked the whole night. Most people you didn't know but had to pretend you knew forever.

“Excuse me? Sara, can i borrow (y/n) for a minute?” tom interrupted as you spoke to his cousin. She gave him a smile before allowing him to take you away. Out of the large ballroom and into a more secluded hall that only maids came in and out of.

“Someone is eager.” you laugh a little as his hands quickly wrap around your waist and bring you down for a kiss.

“Yeah, my queen looks like this and I'm supposed to just have a casual conversation about golf with my brothers? I'm going out of my mind.” his lips attack your neck and you giggle pushing him back.

“Technically I’m not a queen.” You tell him, your hands rest on his suit and his thumbs rub soft circles into your back.

“Maybe not, but you look like one.” He moves his hand to touch your face. Never touch her face. He can hear his moms voice ring in his head after he tried to touch your makeup that was perfect on your skin. Now you two were in private and he could touch you all he wanted without the scolding of others.

“This doesn’t feel real.” You hum looking over your shoulder to see the ball room. Kids dance in the middle, adults drink and laugh, everyone is happy. You still miss your old kingdom, your home, but Tom has done a fine job at making this one still feel like home.

“C’mon.” He holds your hands and pulls you back.

“Tom? What are you doing?” You ask with a worried face.

“C’mon it will be quick!” He encourages as he pulls you farther and farther from the crowd.

“No, Tom, your parents, my parents, they’ll kill us if they know we’re missing from our own wedding!” You try and move back but he’s moving faster away from the party.

“It’ll be quick, everyone is either too drunk or too blinded from the beauty of this to see we’re missing.” He tells you.

You let him guide you half way through the house, your feet hurt from trying to run quick enough so no one thinks you’re gone.

The library. You remember this from the first night with him. The library doors stare at the two of you until tom opens them.

The room is dark, cold, empty. Your voices would carry if you spoke too loudly. Tom didn’t hesitate to go over to the fire pit and start it up. There were books on the table, fairytales, all the ones from when you were a kid.

“I-it took awhile to find the originals. the first night we talked you told me about how you read those fairytales as a kid and I knew you were missing home a lot. So I did some digging and found some of the books from when you were a kid to make you still feel at home.” He swallows hard and you touch each cover. They were leather covers, yellow pages, crisp to the touch and soft to the eye.

You look over at tom with a soft look in your face. Walking over to him you hold his face, moving the curl that came out of place when running.

“You know,” you start with your hand touching his chin. “The bride and groom don’t give each other gifts.” You tell him and his hands go to play with the straps of your dress.

“I know, I just don’t ever want you to feel like this isn’t your home either.” His voice almost in a whisper.

“I love you.” Your voice broke through. He hasn’t heard you say it. Not in full at least, not with meaning. “I truly, deeply am in love with you Thomas Stanley Holland.” You tell him looking up at him. His brown eyes melt into yours, his mouth gaped and he’s frozen.

“You don’t have to say that just because we’re married.” He warns you and you shake your head.

“If I didn’t love you why would I let you spend so many nights in my room, why would I sneak off with you just to kiss you, why would I even think about playing golf with you if I didn’t love you?” You ask and he lets out a soft laugh at the last part.

“You’re willing to learn golf?” He laughs, you playfully hit his chest.

“Tom I’m trying to have a moment with you.” You laugh and he moves in closer.

“I know.” His lips ghost over yours. “I love you too.” In a whisper his lips meet yours. His lips mold against yours, soft and warm, tasting like the wine from earlier. His hands go to move to your upper back, ready to take off the dress before you pull back knowing you can’t do this when you have over a 100 guests downstairs.

“W-we have to wait.” You told him and his lips came off of you. A soft shade of red they were as he looked at you for more. He nods knowing you’re right, kissing your jaw one more time before moving back from you.

“Oh shit.” He touches his lips seeing the soft red come off of it. The red lipstick you once wore smeared onto his.

“Maybe you should’ve waited…” you tease and he puts out the fire.

He rolls his eyes and kisses your cheek quickly as he takes your hand to go back down to the party.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” He rubs the rest off and wipes it on his pants to let no one know what happened.

A night that was the start to a marriage.

“Okay, one, two, three—“ he states and you turn around.

“Tom, I’m awful at this.” You pout. Eyes squinted and your legs burned from both the sun and the endless walking you two did.

The sun burnt against your skin, the clouds gone as it was one of the brightest days London has seen. Golf club in hand as you promised today you would golf with tom.

“No, no, you’re just not letting yourself try.” He comes up behind you. His shirt tight, his pants fit him perfectly and he wears a hat to block the sun. You let him wrap his arms around you and help you grip the club.

“Like i said, left hand on top, right hand on bottom, bring it back,” he lifts it back with you, breath on your neck, lips dangerously close. “And swing.”

The ball goes far and you turn around to smile at tom. You hated this, didn’t understand how this could be so much fun for him. But he was happy, he was so excited to teach you and promised he wouldn’t bother you again about it If you came.

“See, was that so bad?” He asked, close to your face you steal a kiss.

“Actually, yes. How do you find this so amusing tom?.” You ask him and he takes the club from you to place it in the cart.

“Could ask you the same about reading!” He groans putting everything in. You come up and grip his arms when he’s done with the cart. He looks at your left hand, the ring sparkles in the sun and reminds him that you two are real.

“Are we having our first married couple fight?” You ask with a smirk. Your hands trace up to move around his neck. His hands hold your waist and pulls you into his hips.

“No, that was last night when you told me my tea was painful to drink because it had nothing in it.” He comes back with a cocky smirk. You roll your eyes and fall into his chest.

“Because it was painful too drink.” You come up to place a soft kiss on his jawline. He tilts his head back asking for more before he hears the sound of his brothers.

“Tom! (Y/n)! We invited you along to play, not to makeout!” His younger brother yells. Tom, with a groan, looks over to his younger brothers with a squint and flips them off. You grab his wrist quickly and place a soft kiss on his cheek.

“We should make a deal.” You tell him and he looks at you now interested.

“What kind of deal?” He asks scratching your back lightly.

“If I win...I never have to play this pointless game again.” You tell and he rolls his eyes. “If you win...you get to do whatever you want with me.” You tease and his eyes go wide.

“Princess, I love you, but you’re already losing.” He tells and you let go of him and get into the cart.

“Well, then you better get to thinking.” You tell him and he quickly gets in the cart just needing this game to be over.

Three months. That’s all it took. Three months and it’s like you two knew each other a lifetime. You missed home but got to visit it now that you were married. Every night you fell asleep with toms arms around you and everything felt perfect.

Maybe you were wrong about fairytales. The things written in about fairytales were now coming true. Everyone does fall in love with their prince in the end and they get happily ever after. You got your happily ever after.

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shereadsandwritesformelanin · 4 years

Text

The Baker And Her Actor: part I [The Delivery!]

Paring: Chris Evans x Black Fem!Reader

Summary: You meet Chris while making a house delivery for the Evans. He can’t get you off his mind, and to be honest you can’t get him of yours.

Warnings: profanity, sexual content, angst, but overall fluff!

Notes: I hope you guys enjoy, don’t be afraid to leave your thoughts opinions and critique’s. All are welcome!

Early morning shifts were apart of your normal routine, but never this early.

You had made arrangements with a costumer. You’d drop off five dozen boxes of your holiday edition sticky pecan maple donuts.

You walk into the bakery the cool Boston breeze follows you indoors.

Walking back you gently place a hair net on, wrapping your body in your favorite apron that said “ All you kneed is love.” It was your absolute favorite.

You hit the lights to kitchen and begin assembling all the ingredients nessecary for this massive delivery.

“Hey sorry I’m late.” Kiara, your employees and best friend said barging in.

She approached you tieing on her apron as well, preparing to help you whip up this hefty batch.

“Okay so like I said these are semi important guest, considering I have to make a home delivery and they gave me a key code. I’m assuming their loaded, so we need to make this our best. Presentation and taste.” You explain to kiara

She nods in agreement sucking in air, you’d didn’t know who was dreading this most you or her.

——-

Packaging the last few donuts Kiara spoke breaking the silence.

“So who is this special delivery for, I mean I get being rich but come on making us deliver first thing on thanksgiving is kind of fucked up.” She complained

You couldn’t agree more, thanksgiving was your favorite holiday and here you were stuck making over sixty donuts at the crack of dawn. You wish you could have refused but you needed the money.

“I know, trust me I understand, and I appreciate you and your vigor. Helping me, waking up this early isn’t easy for you I know that. And the name was- Evans I believe. Sounded like a man on the phone.” You announce

“Evans, in Boston. BITCH!’Kiara shouts. “I’m coming with you, because if this is who I think this is I swear I’m never living this day down!” She continues to Elate.

“Who’s Evans?”

——-

For the entirety of the car ride Kiara couldn’t stop ranting and raving about the infamous Chris Evans.

The way she talked about him would have made you believe she knew him personally.

According to Kiara, he is an actor in the marvel movies, which you’ve never seen. He lives in Boston with his family, and has an adorable dog named Dodger.

“I can’t believe you’ve never heard of this hottie.” Kiara said

“Well I know of him I’m just not obsessed like some.” You sass.

Kiara rolls her eyes in your direction. “No matter who he is we have to stay professional. Pretend you have no idea who he is and it’s just another delivery.” You instruct.

“I would, but it’s not just another delivery.”

“Why is that?” You remark

“Bitch because we don’t deliver.” Kiara curses.

She did have a solid point, we aren’t a delivery service. only having 5 employees so you run a pretty tight ship.

But you make it work, you’re only delivering because they asked and offered to throw in a pretty hefty delivery fee.

Looks like we are here.

You pull up to a gated community, from what you could see the houses were huge.

It was a mixture of recently builds and older builds. Overall it was beautiful, The rich really do have it all.

“What’s the code again?” Kiara asks hand hanging out the window ready to punch in the code.

Snapping from your gaze. “Um 369696.” You announce

“Got it.” We watch as the retracts allowing my 2008 Mariner to slip through and up the hills to the “Evans” home.

—-

“Okay remember what I said. No celebrity talk, just hand them the bag say some quick “thank you’s, your welcome’s and we’re out.” You demand

Kiara smirks. “Then we can sneak back later since we have the code, and watch him sleep.”

“Okay see nope, you’re staying in the car!” You shout.

“Why?” Kiara whines.

“Because your a freaking liability I don’t need them thinking we are weird fan girls that happen to bake.” You whisper shout.

“We are weird fan girls that bake.” Kiara chuckes

“We,” is a long shot.” You say getting the donuts out from the backseat.

Placing them in your hands you could feel the heat of them, still warm. And obviously they smelled amazing.

You and Kiara walked up to the Evans home. It was large, modern with a twist. The bricks were a beautiful mixture of cool earth tones and the pathway up to the front door was beautiful.

You could tell the home was designed by a women. The touch was so feminine but with many masculine hints.

“Ring it.” You told Kiara

“Wow even the doorbell sound is expensive.” She joked

Immediately the door swings open and you and Kiara are met with the most beautiful blue eyes.

He wore a red flannel, regular denim blue jeans that fit him well, a navy snap back and held a beer in one of his large hands.

Kiara wasn’t lying he was beautiful.

Clearing your throat before you speak. “Oh Um we are here for Evans.” You sqeak lacking your usual confidence.

Guys always had that affect on you, especially attractive ones.

“I would be Evans.” Chris chuckles sitting his beer on a side table, reaching out to take the boxes from you.

His hand brushes against yours just for a brief moment.

You felt your heart beat accelerate and those damn butterflies explode in your pit.

God, no.

Maybe it was just because he was the last man to touch you in years?

I hope so.

“Wow this smell absolutely fantastic, I know the family will love them. Thanks so much for coming I know you guys don’t do that I just- never mind let me grab my wallet.” He explained

“You know what it’s fine we should get going, enjoy your day!” You almost shout gripping Kiaras arm yankimg her down the pathway practically tearing her arm off.

Chris is left baffled at his doorstep, he really thought you two deserved a tip. That’s also what was discussed over the phone.

“Bitch what the hell was that!” Kiara shouts.

“I don’t know I really don’t. I just freaked and wanted to get out of there, something wasn’t right.” I had a bad feeling.” You lied.

“Or a good feeling.” Kiara mumbles.

“What?”

“Oh come on y/n it’s no secret you love to self sabotage all the time. I saw they way you were looking at him and frankly he was checking yo big booty ass out too.” She informs.

No way.

It was true though. Chris opened the door and was immediately blown away by your beauty.

he loved how your hair fit your face just right, the way your outfit cordinated with the holiday and season, your big brown eyes, and beautiful dark skin.

He was immediately blown away, and shocked that you ran off like Cinderella.

—-

Driving back home gave you time to think. You hadn’t felt those butterflies in your stomach in years. The feeling was so foreign but so familiar.

You had to move on though, it was a one time thing. You’d never see him again.

——

Back at Chris’s house:

A/n: the girls thought it was a family home it’s really just Chris’s home!

Chris’s Point Of View:

Chris shuts the door completely taken a back by your sudden take off.

“Oooh the desserts are here mom!’Scott shouts “well that’s not a pretty face.” Scott teases .

“Yeah I know the baker she ran off before I could give her a tip, I sort of feel bad. They deserve it.” Chris moaned

He hated not being able to give back. He was blessed with all this luxury he wanted to be able to give back in any way he could.

“Well maybe drop it off tomorrow, let’s celebrate and not sulk.” Scott suggested pushing his older brother in the direction of the kitchen.

“Yeah.” Chris said starting to chipper up again.

—-

The Next Day:

Another early shift.

You never understood why after holidays people were still craving sweets, hadn’t they had enough at their parties and gatherings?

“Jesus this line wont go down.” Kiara complains

“Hey look at it as exposure and a better paycheck.” You said

“I’ll go check on the guys.” Kiara announces

Your main bakers Jay and Deacon were amazing. They were prompt, selfless, and came up with the most delicious unique recipes.

“Hi welcome to y/n’s what can I get you today.” You ask not completely aware of the person in front of you.

“A regular glaze donut should do.”

Your ears burn at how familiar the voice sounded.

Your attention slowly turned from the coffe machine you were working with to the figure standing in front of you.

Chris Evans.

Their he stood. Frame decorated with a warm winter puff coat, a navy knit sweater, denim blue jeans, and his imfamous Boston hat.

“Oh ok, of course.’ Let me grab a fresh on for you.” You stammer.

You were nervous, he made you nervous.

“No the one on display is fine I don’t need special treatment.” Chris had reassured

You nod in a agreement. Grabbing the donut wrapping it in your seasonal decorate parchment paper. You slip it in a brown baggie and hand it over to him.

“That’ll be 0.99 cents.”

Chris’s face hardened, his eyebrows furrowing in.

Digging into his pocket. “You know, you should really charge more. Your name goods are amazing.” Chris compliments.

You feel your face heat up and those damn butterflies erupting again.

It was no secret you tend to fall fast but self sabotage because you’re awkward and can’t fathom the thought of being loved.

“Have a good day, Chris.” You say whispering his name not wanting to pull attention to him.

“You as well y/n.” He whispered mimicking you.

He remembered your name?

You turn around to finish adjusting the coffe machine, but slightly peaking to watch him walk out.

God he was so darn beautiful.

—

“Days over let’s count profit, Kiara can you grab Jay I think he’s still back there cleaning.” You ask politely

Kiara nods in agreement making her way through the flapping doors.

You begin opening the registers, fact checking and counting the profit you and yo it team made for the day. You loved having the bakery but gosh this was time consuming.

You reach for the tip jar, tilting it downward for easy acsses to slip your hands through. You pull out varrace one dollar bills, coins, some five dollar bills, until, you pulled out a wad of three hundred dollar bills.

“What the fuck.’You whisper to yourself. “Guys, guys come out her right now!” You shout excitedly.

“What who’s here?” Jay runs out of the kitchen with a rolling pen ready to attack any threats.

“No ones here, and put that down.”

“Someone left a three hundred dollar tip.” You announced

Your small bakery filled with loud hoots and hollers from your team. Everyone excited by the unexpected win.

“Well girl don’t act like you don’t know who left it.” Kiara said smirking

“What do you mean?” You respond

“Obviously it was Cevans.” She stared eyebrows wiggling.

“Who’s Cevans?” Deacon blurts.

“You remember that home delivery the other day, yeah that was to Chris Mother fucking Evans house.” Kiara explains.

“What?!” Deacon and Jay shout simotaniously.

“When were you gonna tell us this?” Deacon says.

“Never.’ You whisper. “Only because it’s not that big of a deal, I mean look at you guys your obsess all ready. He’s just a guy.” You rationalize

“Yeah just a guy that drops three hundred dollars on a pretty brown skin doll.” Kiara teases.

“Shut up.” You say cheeks heating up.

“Well don’t get to deep because you still owe me a date.” Deacon says walking away.

You and Deacon had a moment not to long ago, I mean you loved him as a friend and could never go past the point of no return with him.

But Deacons feelings for you were explosive and seemingly never ending.

God what was it with you and white men.

——

Chris’s Point Of View:

At home I had spent the remainder of the day with my family.

The thoughts of y/n still lingered. I was no doubt proud that i could give you the tip you deserved.

He could tell you worked hard, and deserved every team.

Were you single?

“What are you day dreaming about?” Scott says interrupting my thoughts.

“Nothing.” I say dry

“Really because we just had y/n’s yesterday and your already back. I thought we’d be donuted out for a while.” Scott implied

Scott was constantly trying to find me someone. He said I would “die alone,” if I don’t find a wife. But the truth is I’m protective of me, my space.

It’s not easy being a noticeable celebrity, people seem to always have alternative motives.

Like what they can gain from me, use me.

“I just liked her donuts, that’s all not that deep Scott.” I lied.

“Mhmm, we should wear face mask tonight and try and find her instagram, see what’s she up to.” Scott suggests non chalantly.

I mean If I did it would only be to spend quality time with scott right?

“I mean I guess, but not that one face mask made my face burn.” I said fingers circuling my face.

—-

Y/n’s Point Of View:

Finally locking up the shop I walk away to my car keys in my hand bag in another.

I couldn’t feel somewhat guilty for the amount of money we’d recieved from Chris. He was too generous.

It almost felt like I was using him even though he willing gave us the money. I still felt bad.

At home you ate your dinner in peace, lofi music playing in the background.

When suddenly your phone went off with a ping, two pings.

Picking up your phone to see what it was.

An instagram notification. “What the fuck.” You curse

Why was Scott Evans liking your pictures.

Now this was no coincidence.

You dial your Bestfriends number to tell her the news.

“Kiara.”

—-

Chris’s Point Of View:

“Scott what the fuck!” I shout. “Now she’s gonna know I was lurking.”

“But you weren’t I am.” Scott says

“Yes but don’t you think she’ll know we are together. This is why I didn’t want to do this.” I continue to shout.

“Just don’t like anymore pictures please.” I plead.

“Fine I won’t, but isn’t she hot.” Scott teases.

“She’s beautiful yes but not my type.” I lie

“You don’t have a type.” Scott rebutted

This wasn’t 100% accurate or inaccurate looks weren’t a formality for me not that you weren’t stunning, but the personality was were it was for me.

From the small moments I observed of you, your quiet and shy but outgoing on fun once you get to know the person and people you are around.

Maybe Scott was right, just maybe.

—-

First part! Lemme know what you think!

Are you liking y/n? She’s shy but she’ll open up soon😏.

Should they get together fast or slow I’m thinking mega slow!

—

Tag list:

@toniilaney

#henry cavill #chris evans angst #chris evans #chris evans fandom #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x poc!reader #chris evans x black reader #chris evans x black ofc #chris evans x woc #chris evans imagine #chris evans x reader #slow burn #slow build #relationship #chris evans smut

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inkwell1013 · 3 years

Text

Quiet Hands - Persona 5

Pairing: Yusuke & the Phantom Thieves (platonic), Yusuke & Natsuhiko (familial)

Genre: Oneshot, Angst with a bit of fluff, Found family.

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: In this fic, Yusuke deals with a lot of internalized ableism and ableist remarks from Madarame. There is also some physical abuse, emotional abuse and depiction of a panic attack. The r slur is also used. Please bear these warnings in mind before proceeding.

Summary: Madarame never understood Yusuke. He was quick to punish Yusuke for fidgeting. Yusuke learns that loud hands get him hurt. It is much better to have quiet hands. It is better to hold down all the stuff that makes him different. It is better to be who Madarame wants him to be. The Phantom Thieves seemed to disagree with this.

- - - - -

Yusuke was a creature of unbreakable habit. He enjoyed order and structure, and liked to know when he was expected to do things and how he was expected to do them. The slightest disruption to his routine would send him spiralling, leaving him in a horrible mood for the rest of the day.

Today was one of those days. Madarame had invited a guest over without warning Yusuke beforehand, and that had sent him into a tantrum of epic proportions. He didn’t like strangers and he didn’t like surprises, so this was a particularly detestable event in his eyes.

Madarame dragged him downstairs despite his vehement protests. “I don’t want to,” whined Yusuke, trying to pull his arm out of Madarame’s grip. “Let me go!”

“Oh, grow up Yusuke!” snapped Madarame. “You’re not a little kid anymore, and this whining is completely unacceptable for someone your age. Sometimes you must do things you don’t want to do. That’s life, and complaining isn’t going to change anything. Now, you will behave and act normal in front of this curator, or I will ground you for the rest of the week. Do you understand me?”

Yusuke squirmed in his grip. “But it’s so difficult Daddy. I don’t like new people.”

Madarame scowled. “I am not your father. What do you call me?”

“Sensei,” sniffed Yusuke. “Do I really have to do it Sensei?”

“Yes, the curator is expecting to meet you. I’m not having you embarrass me again,” said Madarame, shoving Yusuke into the living room.

The curator stood to greet them as they came in. He was an aggressively friendly man, who immediately went to shake Madarame’s hand with a wide, toothy smile on his face. “Is this your son?” he asked brightly.

“No, he’s my student. I took him in after his mother’s death,” explained Madarame, pushing Yusuke forward. “Why don’t you say hello Yusuke?”

Yusuke mumbled a hello, doing anything to keep from making eye contact, which was made difficult by the fact that the stranger seemed to be attempted the exact opposite at every opportunity. “I apologise for his behaviour,” said Madarame. “He’s a little shy.”

He punctuated the last word with a sharp glare. Yusuke curled further in on himself.

“I understand,” laughed the curator. “My daughter’s shy too. Anyway, what layout are we thinking for this new exhibit?”

Madarame and the curator launched into a lengthy conversation about the upcoming exhibition, thankfully leaving Yusuke out of it. He didn’t want to talk anyway.

All this stress of meeting a new person was making him feel a bit shaky. Similar to how a kettle filled with boiling water needed a way to release the rising pressure, he had found his own way of release. It varied by situation and circumstance, and today it had manifested as fluttery fingers. The curator hadn’t noticed, still engrossed in the work that Madarame was showing him.

Madarame shoot Yusuke a murderous glare and reached over a hand. He pinned Yusuke’s wrist to the table, forcing his hands to a standstill. The curator happily continued with the conversation, having not noticed at all.

“Quiet hands,” hissed Madarame. “You know the rules.”

Yusuke knew he was in trouble.

Nothing happened until the curator left. Madarame was cruel, but he wasn’t stupid. He never struck Yusuke in public and never in front of others - he had his reputation to worry about after all - but things were different behind closed doors.

As soon as the front door slammed shut, Madarame struck, like a viper leaping from the brush. He yanked Yusuke forward, sharp nails digging into his wrist. Stumbling, Yusuke desperately tried to regain his footing, but was thrown of balance again when Madarame smacked him on the side of the head, sending him lurching to the left. He was lucky enough to grab a hold of the coffee table before he hit the ground.

His ear was ringing with discordant chords of a half-finished song, and his vision was blurred, but he could still make out Madarame’s scowling face.

“Sensei, I—”

“Ten fucking minutes! That was all I asked,” screamed Madarame. “And you couldn’t even do that. What is wrong with you?”

Yusuke stared down at the ground. “I don’t know…” he muttered.

“You don’t know?” Madarame said incredulously. “I’m not having a retard for a student. You need to learn to control yourself. No more of that stupid fidgeting. I’ve let it go on for far too long anyway.”

“But I can’t control it,” said Yusuke.

“You will learn. You are not a wild animal that is completely lacking in self control. I raised you better than that.”

“Sensei, you can’t—”

“I’m doing this for your own good Yusuke. No one is going to take you seriously if you act like that. Now go to your room and think about what you’ve done,” spat Madarame. “Don’t think I’m feeding you after this outburst.”

Things only got worse after that. Madarame stayed true to his word and punished Yusuke for the fidgeting whenever he saw it. That didn’t mean that Yusuke stopped though; he just learned to hide it in front of his mentor. He learned to bottle it all down and release it when he was on his own so he could avoid the punishment.

Even so, the pressure was always building, hissing and screaming to be let out. Sometimes he couldn’t stop it from erupting out of him. Those where the worst days. He would be left shaking and crying, scratching at himself, trying to alleviate that crushing feeling deep down in his soul.

He was only hurting himself – he knew that – but it was the only way to make himself feel better.

Madarame didn’t understand it, just as he had never understood anything about Yusuke. As always, he resorted to violence. He would smack Yusuke on the back of the head every time, repeating the same words.

“Quiet hands.”

Like how a dog can be made to salivate at the sound of a ringing bell, Yusuke was conditioned to associate exhibiting these behaviours in front of others with fear. With pain. Whenever Madarame had guests over, he played the role of the perfect protégé and dutiful student, exactly how Madarame wanted him to, so that he could avoid his ire.

Not once did he question it.

Madarame just wanted what was best for him.

That was the only explanation.

As sad as it was to admit, Yusuke had never had friends before he met the phantom thieves. He had always been too busy with his art and studies and never had enough time to socialise. No one at his school liked him enough to talk to him anyway.

The closest person he had to a friend when he was a child was Natsuhiko, who had been more like a brother to him, but Natsuhiko left when Yusuke was ten years old. Ysuuke didn’t even get to say goodbye. He just found his bed empty one morning and was informed of his departure over breakfast. Yusuke never quite forgave Natsuhiko for leaving him like that.

The Phantom Thieves were a motley crew, but they were the kindest people Yusuke had met in a long time, so he was happy to call them his friends. They were all kindred spirits, people who had been beaten down and abused by the world, and people who wanted change.

He found solace in their friendship. It was comforting to be around people who were so much like him, who had similar pasts and experiences, and who could understand him.

That day he was reminded of how kind the Phantom Thieves were.

Yusuke had started yet another one of his passionate rants – this time about an artist from the Edo period, who was well known for his unique handling of colours and composition – and instead of blowing him off and ignoring him, as he had expected them to, everyone was paying attention to what he had to say.

And he loved it. Art was a second parent to Yusuke (it had certainly done more to raise him than Madarame ever had) and he would happily ramble about it for hours on end. Once he got going, he could rarely force himself to stop.

There was a lull in his ramble, and he realised how rude he was being. “I apologise,” he said. “I let that go on a bit long, didn’t I? I have a bad habit of running my mouth. It won’t happen again.”

“We don’t mind man,” said Ryuji. “Art makes you happy and shit. We get that.”

“It’s like me and computers,” added Futaba, who was crouching on the couch and fiddling with the ends of her hair. “Sometimes you’ve just got to talk about these things.”

“Whatever makes you happy Yusuke,” said Ann.

“We’re your friends,” explained Ren, leaning dangerously far back in his chair. “We only want you to be happy, and if this is what makes you happy, go for it.” Haru and Makoto nodded in agreement.

Yusuke couldn’t stop himself. He felt bubbly and ecstatic. All that energy had to go somewhere and he found his hand flapping, quite without his input or permission. He rocked on his heels, riding that wave of joy.

It didn’t last long however, and a wave of horror came crashing down upon him as soon as he realised what he had done. Everyone was staring at him and he was frozen in place.

It was like he was the painting in Madarame’s palace. That damn thing haunted his dreams. He would never forget it – the reminder that he was nothing than a thing to the man who raised him. The man he thought of as his father. It sneered at him, as he tossed and turned, reminding him that he would never truly be free.

A tiny sliver of his brain knew that Madarame was gone, and couldn’t hurt him anymore. But it was overwhelmed by everything else that was screaming at him that he was in danger. That he needs to run and not look back. But he couldn’t even do that.

They’ll only hate you after this.

He tried to force himself to say something – anything – but couldn’t force out a single sound. He swore that he couldn’t breathe. Everyone’s eyes were on him. His heart was racing, pumping adrenaline through his veins that he wouldn’t even use because he was too terrified to run, let alone move.

“Yusuke is something wrong?” asked Ren, ever the gracious leader. Yusuke wasn’t sure if he would be able to handle it if Ren hit him. He was usually so composed, but Yusuke knew he packed a mean punch. He had seen him use it on shadows before.

Maybe, if he uses it on you, you’ll turn to dust and blow away as well. Then you won’t bother them anymore. They’ll be happy that you’re gone.

“I can’t— I don’t— I need—" he stammered, unable to form the words correctly. Everyone was staring at him. This was so humiliating.

Ren cast a desperate look to Futaba, who nodded and swayed to her feet. She inched toward Yusuke and reached out a hand to touch his shoulder. Yusuke flinched and she pulled away.

“You need to breathe Yusuke,” said Futaba. “I know it’s hard, but you need to breathe. In for four, hold for seven, and out for eight. Come on, do it with me.”

Yusuke took in a single shaky breath. And then another. Soon, his heart stopped palpitating at a million miles an hour, and he finally felt stable.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “I don’t know what came over me. I- I don’t know. It simply happened.”

“It’s okay. You were just having a panic attack. Have you never had one before?” asked Futaba.

“No…” said Yusuke. “I can’t believe I lost control like that in front of everyone. This is mortifying.”

“No one’s going to judge you or anything. These things happen,” said Futaba, with a shrug. Everyone else nodded. “Do you know if anything triggered it?” she asked.

Yusuke chewed on his fingernails, a nervous habit that he never managed to kick, despite Madarame’s best efforts. “You’ll think it’s stupid.”

“We won’t. Trust me.”

“I am different to other people,” he admitted. “I always have been. When I was young, I had bad habits that were beginning to cause problems, so Madarame took it upon himself to… fix my issue.”

Futaba frowned. “You don’t mean..?”

“He used to hit me. It was never anything that bad, and never enough to bruise or scar, but it was adequate, and corrected the problem. I believe losing control and exhibiting that behaviour again in front of others was enough to remind me of it. I apologise for worrying you all.” He bowed his head, staring down at the ground.

There was a long, empty silence, which was broken by Ryuji. “Dude. He was abusing you.”

Yusuke blinked. “And that’s… bad?”

“Of course it’s bad!” exclaimed Ann. “He hurt you. It’s no wonder you’re afraid of him.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” asked Ren, staring Yusuke down.

“I didn’t think it was important…”

Futaba walked over to the couch and took her previous crouched position. “So, Inari, are you autistic?” she asked.

Yusuke scowled. “I don’t see how that’s relevant. I was diagnosed as a child, but I grew out of it.”

He was a little surprised when Futaba cringed and Ren shook his head. “You don’t grow out of autism Yusuke,” said Ren, as gently as he could. “It’s a part of who you are.”

“But I’m not autistic anymore! I’m not. Madarame fixed me,” exclaimed Yusuke.

“Man, not to rude or anything,” interjected Ryuji. “But he lowkey traumatised you. He didn’t fix shit.”

“Hitting someone for stimming is like punishing your puppy for wagging it’s tail,” said Makoto. “You’re just doing what your body wants you to do. It’s normal. We all do it.” She gestured between herself, Futaba, and Ren.

Yusuke’s eyes widened. “You mean, you’re all like me?” he whispered.

“Yes,” said Ren “You’re not alone.”

“Thank you,” he mumbled, rubbing at his face with the sleeve of his shirt. Why was he crying? “You’re all too kind.

Ryuji rolled his eyes. “Nah. We’re just not shitty people like that bastard. Sorry if that’s rude or whatever, but it’s true.”

Yusuke couldn’t stop himself from snickering. “That’s absolutely true. He was a grade A asshole”

“Group hug!” announced Haru, launching herself at Yusuke. Soon, Yusuke found himself in the middle of a crushing group hug with every single Phantom Thief except Morgana, who was still peacefully sleeping on the windowsill.

“You’re a bit weird,” said Ryuji. “But you’re our weirdo.”

It was Yusuke’s turn to decide where the group went on their weekly outing, and he chose the planetarium. Natsuhiko had taken him there once, when Yusuke was about ten years old. Looking back, he knew it was because Madarame had come home drunk again and Natsuhiko didn’t want him to see that.

It was funny how many of his good memories were tainted by hindsight.

Even so, the day stood out in his mind. It was a single happy moment in the sea of abject misery that was his childhood. Natsuhiko had spent the entire evening pointing out different constellations and telling Yusuke stories about them.

Even after Natsuhiko left, Yusuke remembered the stories. He would trace the constellations onto his palm and whisper the stories to himself, desperately clinging onto the few things he had left of Natsuhiko. He remembered every single word, exactly how Natsuhiko had told him.

He and his friends found their seats and settled down. The lights flickered on above them, stars appearing in the dark expanse. He remembered Natsuhiko daring him to try and count them. It was impossible; there were just too many. An incomprehensible number.

It was beautiful. He would paint it, but he could never capture its majesty quite right. All the swirls of purple and blue and black, with pinpricks of light shining through, filled the entire domed ceiling. It would never fit on a canvas.

Futaba leaned over and whispered to him, “Do you know any stories about the stars?”

“Are you sure you want to hear?” replied Yusuke. “You know how much I can go on about these things.”

“Of course. We all want to hear!” said Ann. Yusuke looked around to the smiling faces of his friends and couldn’t help but grin himself.

“Okay,” he said, flapping his hands, as he collected all the right words. Flapping was his favourite stim. There was nothing quite like it for that fluttery, excited feeling in his chest. “Can you see those three stars over there that form a line?” he said. “They are a part of a constellation called ‘Take No Fushi’. They represent a bamboo cane, being held by a young girl. The story stays that she and her sister were carrying buckets of water balanced on canes of bamboo, when they were attacked by a fearsome Oni. There was no escape, so they climbed a rope towards the sky. The elder sister became the moon, and the younger sister became the stars that trail after her…”

Everyone was listening to him. No one minded his stimming. He knew, for the first time in years, that it was okay to be himself around those he loved.

#persona 5 fanfiction #persona 5 angst #fluff #angst #yusuke kitagawa #Autistic Yusuke #inkwell writes

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windbournefree · 3 years

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AARON SORKIN'S "WOMAN PROBLEM" AND THE NEWSROOM

After binging on The Newsroom (and loving it) created by Aaron Sorkin I got to thinking about his reputed "woman problem" when some YouTube commenter described all the female characters on the show as "twits." That's a characterization I strongly disagree with, and will show why, but also can't shake the intuitive sense that his portrayal is rightly controversial. By that I mean it is right that it should be a matter of discussion, not that it is necessarily wrong. The people holding the discussion need to decide that for themselves.

First the bald facts. Women in this drama hold power: Leona founded and still owns the company, Mackenzie is the Executive Producer of the network's flagship news program with a male second-in-command and many male staff, Sloan is the acknowledged smartest person in the company with far more lucrative prospects awaiting her should she choose them, Maggie is promoted instantly from a personal aide to an associate producer by a woman despite her youth and inexperience. Women are in leadership roles with real power that they do exercise.

In their relationships to men, the women in The Newsroom engage in give and take.

Mackenzie may look at Will like a doe-eyed schoolgirl at times but she's in love with him and is self-recriminating about previous behaviors. She isn't like that with any other male characters. Even with Will she frequently takes charge and makes him follow her direction, which he does. Mac exercises real power in her relationship with Will from episode one on. When Will doles out his "punishments" she only takes them to the degree that she believes she should. She holds the power at any time to say, "That's enough!" which she does in regards to the engagement ring. When she does that he realizes he's gone too far and changes his behavior.

Maggie coddles Don in most of the scenes we see of them and breaks up with him mostly in scenes we don't see. I'd venture to guess that the early breakups happen because the relationship has no room for her passion and she gets tired of soothing his ego to make things work. In contrast, Maggie's drawn to Jim because he awakens and allows room for her passion. Most employees who confront and yell at their bosses as much as she does with Jim would be suspended and/or fired. He lets her get away with it to a degree because he recognizes that that same passion drives her to become an excellent journalist. And because he likes her. Both are true. Every once in awhile he has to reprimand her in public to assert authority over his team or it gives permission to his other staff to behave the same way. Maggie is no shrinking violet. She is strong and self-directed and refuses to allow a man to control her. Most of her errors come from inexperience and human frailty. None of them occur because she's a woman.

Sloan clearly wears the pants in her relationship to Don which, to his surprise, he doesn't mind. Ever once in awhile, though, they switch roles or just relate as equals. Don goes from dating the young intern who part of him wants to dominate to dating the highly intelligent, self-directed professional who no man can dominate and becomes a better version of himself as a result. Sloan's errors in her first broadcast about Fukushima occur not because she is scared by Will as a man but because she's scared by him as respected professional. His gender doesn't matter to her. When Charlie yells at her about it she tells him strongly, "Do not call me 'girl,' sir!" And that's to the head of the News Division.

Leona clearly rules the roost and fights with Charlie as an equal or as a subordinate, never as a superior. They fight the way old friends do.

In no respect are women as a class portrayed as inferior or subordinate to the power of men. So why do I get that intuitive itch that there's something old-fashioned about Sorkin's writing on gender relations?

I think it's that some of the male characters in The Newsroom tend to be the carriers of logic and reasoning while the female characters tend to be the carriers of emotional expression. This isn't always true: Sloan is highly logical (while also passionate) and Charlie is highly emotional (while also reasonable) and Neal carries both in balance. It's certainly true, however, of the Jim & Maggie relationship which is intended as a reflection of the older Will & Mackenzie one. Remember how, in episode one, Mackenzie points out Maggie to Jim and tells him that she's a younger version of her before she grew into herself and got hotter with age? And why has Jim long been Mackenzie's choice for supervising producer? Could it be because he reminds her of Will? I think so. I also think it's fair to assume that Sorkin does not intend for that rational/emotional dichotomy to typify all gender relations since he gives us alternate examples. More likely it's because Sorkin is a brainy guy who prefers an emotionally expressive woman to bring balance into his life. When he writes romance it comes out of who he is, what he likes. That's how he connects to the material at a feeling level. Some viewers may prefer a flip on those traditional associations and the Don & Sloan relationship may have been his attempt to provide that. It's not where Sorkin feels at his strongest or most natural, though, so he writes what he knows.

There ARE problems with The Newsroom, though, that I think if addressed would have reduced criticism. In no way should bosses be allowed to date subordinates over whose careers they have an influence. The producers decide what stories are aired. The career of a journalist rises and falls with the number and quality of stories they get aired. Dating a subordinate in this environment is a breach of ethics and most professional workplace standards. To be fair, Maggie was first an intern then a personal aide and only became an associate producer (journalist) as Don was on his way out so it wasn't a total breach; definitely in the gray area, though. The sexual tension between Jim and Maggie, obvious to everyone (as Sloan pointed out in the finale), often broke out into open conflict. Mackenzie should have addressed this conflict as their supervisor but instead encouraged it. As Jim points out it was Mac's idea for him to get together with Maggie in the first place. Again, it was Mac's advice to Jim to "gather ye rosebuds while ye may" that led to his and Maggie's first kiss and then Jim deciding this was wrong. Mackenzie's regrets about her relationship with Will colored her judgment and led her to offer advice that may have been okay coming from a friend but was inappropriate coming from a supervisor. She could have been rightly disciplined or even fired by HR if found out. Jim does decide that he can't date a subordinate however he feels but Mac should have intervened and threatened to move one of them out if they couldn't handle the tension in a professional manner. In the series finale Jim offers the Supervising Producer position to the woman he's in love with. How is that not an HR violation? How would Maggie's career not be dogged by rumors of "sleeping her way to the top" if she accepts it?

The other thing is the way emotional conflicts between several of the characters break out into office wide battles. Talk about an unsafe working environment! I can't see how the entire management staff wasn't fired on an almost weekly basis. And when Mackenzie commends Maggie for her loyalty by saying she wouldn't complain to HR if her hair was on fire I cringed. Is that the message you want to send out in a #MeToo world?

Aaron Sorkin says he likes to write "very romantically, very idealistically." The chaos in the newsroom is intended for laughs, not to be taken as a serious reflection of a workplace. The characters are flawed and frequently do not do what they should. The lack of HR supervision is even mentioned by a character in season one so there's awareness that liberties are being taken. I don't think there's an inherent woman problem here, just a production not as sensitive as it might be to the struggles women face in the workplace. There are good reasons why "no dating" policies are in place, why it's unprofessional to carry your personal life into the workplace. Workplace comedies routinely feature HR nightmares for the sake of laughs: Brooklyn 99 is a good example. We don't take them seriously. It's the sheer intelligence of The Newsroom and the realistic setting that may make the comedy part seem more serious than it is. Personally I see the show as a kind of joyful fantasy; Sports Night without the canned laughter. If you can separate the fantastic from the realistic I think you'll find that The Newsroom is actually very empowering for women.

#the newsroom #mackenzie mchale #will x mac #maggie jordan #jim harper #aaron sorkin #women in tv

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gaiapaia · 3 years

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Kermit And Friends: Tony Ricca WWE

Imagine a church where the reverend is threatened to be locked into a chicken coop by his fiancé at the beginning of service and then threated to be killed Nicole Simpson style by a love interest of said fiancé towards the end of service.

Ladies and gentleman, I welcome you to Kermit and Friends!

The show started off this week with both bad news and good news. The bad news was that Jennifer Lopez’s 6th engagement broke off, but the good news is Elisa’s very 1st engagement is still going strong!

That’s right, despite all the naysayers, Elisa Jordana and Andy Dick’s engagement has survived yet another week. Elisa even has 4 new rings to show for it! But let me tell you... it almost did not survive this show, literally.

First off, Elisa is getting fed up with not being able to reach Andy whenever she wants, so she came up with this brilliant idea of building a chicken coop to keep him locked in. I mean, why not? Andy’s skinny frame combined the long neck sort of does resemble a chicken, so it seems like the perfect fit! Andy doesn’t seem to keen to the idea though so he better just get his act together and start answering every time he’s blessed with a phone call from his gorgeous fiancé Elisa.

This week’s KAF special guest was none other than former WWE Superstar, Tony Ricca. Elisa has a little history in pro wrestling, appearing on WWE Monday Night Raw and starring in a reality show that was hosted by pro wrestling star Chris Jericho. Kermit and Friends also has big wrestling fans on the show such as Socky, Corey, Johnny B, and many more in the chatroom.

Elisa started the interview off by asking Tony about why he wanted to become a pro wrestler. Tony shared it was actually his friends who wanted him to do it, and Andy revealed that’s exactly how he got into acting.

There was more wrestling talk and Tony kindly answered questions from Socky the Sock Puppet, Corey, Eric and other KAF superstars like Trumpster Bob asking Tony to partake in his “Butthole Challenge.” Andy Dick also got Tony to show off his abs so he could gush over his hairy belly. The interview went swimmingly, if you ask me.

During the interview, Andy started facetiming with his handsome friend Lucas. This caught Elisa’s eye and she immediately pounced. “THE Lucas? Aren’t you Andy’s ex, Lucas?”

Lucas denied the claim but Elisa is no fool. She can read Andy like a book and she knows when Andy is really into someone. But Elisa put the claws away and started to have a nice normal chat with Lucas about Andy. As it turns out, Lucas is also a former pro wrestler so he asked Tony a couple of questions too. Maybe we’ll see Lucas back on the show very soon and get to the bottom of him and Andy’s true feelings toward one another.

Kermit’s old friend Kleenex (screenname Christopher Dick) made his return to Kermit and Friends this week. Sitting in his car smoking cigarettes, I could sense Kleenex was in prime form ready to steal the show as the premier Dick on it. After complaining about Elisa’s lack of enthusiasm in her introduction of Kleenex to Tony and Lucas, Kleenex hounded Elisa about the content the show was producing compared to when it first started back in November. Kleenex then set his sights on Elisa’s relationship with Andy Dick, and just as Kleenex’s meter was about to hit red... All. Hell. Broke. Loose.

But not from Kleenex... from ERIC RIGGS! That’s right, Elisa’s friend Eric came flying in like a bat out of Hell and relinquished his fury on Andy Dick.

It was unbelievable. To this point, Eric has perhaps been the sweetest guy on the show. Yeah, he’s out there and his love for Elisa has probably left people baffled, but he’s been consistent in his sweet nature. To see him snap like this was surprising, to say the least.

So what set Eric off? When he talked with Tony Ricca before, he seemed perfectly fine. What I personally believe got Eric’s blood boiling was when Andy bragged to his friend Lucas that Elisa invited Andy to spend the night at her apartment Sunday night.

I did a break down of Elisa’s love history on Kermit and Friends for Valentine’s Day. You can read it here. Eric is featured in the blog. Elisa first met Eric at work, and he became very smitten with Elisa. Hey, who can blame him? He even proposed to Elisa, but Eric had to move to Seattle not long after, so their 'relationship’ became a long distance 'relationship’ following that.

Did they really date? Was Elisa really engaged to Eric?

Elisa is too sensitive towards Eric’s feelings to give a straight answer to these questions, but I know the answers and I will give them to you.

Elisa hung out with Eric many times. His desk was right behind hers at work and naturally as a group they spent many lunches and ‘happy hours’ together with other co-workers. Is that dating? Eh, I’m fine with calling it that if Eric really wants to but you can see where the line is blurred.

As far as Eric’s proposal... there’s an episode of the 90′s sitcom Full House where DJ Tanner’s baby sister Michelle (who is 5 or 6-years-old at the time) falls in love with DJ’s boyfriend, Steve. Michelle asked Steve to marry her and of course Steve said yes to play along and to not hurt Michelle’s feelings. That episode pretty much describes what happened between Elisa and Eric.

Eric proposed in a public setting and Elisa did not want to embarrass Eric by saying no, but she also never led him on by making promises, flirting, doing anything sexual, etc. She genuinely adored Eric as a friend and knew he had a puppy dog crush on her and wanted to never hurt him.

Eric’s move to Seattle was a blessing for Elisa because it meant she never had to break his heart. If you remember the Forgiveness episode of Kermit and Friends, Eric told Susan Shapiro that he was finally over Elisa and looking to move on. Of course, since then Eric has professed his love again with poems, songs, and even a damn book, but still... you just had to think he was somewhat over the idea of truly marrying Elisa.

Boy, is that NOT the case. Not the case at all. Eric full on believes he’s the next Jeff Benzos and that he will help skyrocket Elisa’s career by booking her to perform with him as a duet at Madison Square Garden. And they will do this as husband and wife, despite the mafia, Vice Lords and the people who shot down Kobe Bryant’s plane all being against the idea. In Eric’s mind, the power of he and Elisa’s love can overcome anything. Including and especially Andy Dick, who is a part of the Satanic Cult of Walt Disney, according to Eric.

Eric claims to have super powerful Jewish friends in super powerful places. One phone call from Eric and he can have Andy wacked like OJ Simpson killed his wife Nicole. Or Eric will just do it himself. This would probably be a very scary threat if it wasn’t coming from someone as harmless as Eric Riggs, so it’s just funny. Very funny.

But it’s also a bit sad. Eric obviously has some issues upstairs and has created a fantasy World for himself. Honestly, Kermit and Friends is a wonderful fantasy World as well but most of us are capable of separating our fantasy Worlds from reality. We can tell which is which. Eric doesn’t seem to be able to tell the difference and that’s very unfortunate.

Eric’s rant lasted nearly 30 minutes straight. Non-stop. No one could get a word in edgewise. Elisa didn’t even try for the most part; she was completely silent for well over 10 minutes after it first started. Whenever Andy tried to chime in, Eric was not having it. Thankfully, Andy took it in stride and seemed amused by it all. It was one of the most surreal half hours you will ever witness if you’re lucky enough to watch this incredible show every week.

Elisa abruptly ended this week’s Kermit and Friends after asking Andy if he was ready to go to the Four Seasons during Eric’s tirade. This is one KAF episode that will never be forgotten. If you have not watched it yet, this review is nowhere near giving it justice. Just stop whatever you’re doing right now and click play.

youtube

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darkwood-sleddog · 3 years

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Congrats to Edgend Malamutes & Katabatic Malamutes for the AKC Ch on probably one of the most stunning boys I’ve seen recently: Adair N Hug Katabatic’s When You Wish Upon A Star CGC TKA RI

#dogblr #not my dogs #alaskan malamute #a true black and white succeeding in the AKC ring? congrats #also love the heavy frostfield influence in this dog #which my dogs pedigrees also tend to have #that strong kotzebue influence coming through for a classic look here #many dogs from katabatic work is harness so I also can’t complain much about lack of title atm #no this is not slash this is a much nicer version of him lmao

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blueboxesandtrafficcones · 4 years

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The Nuptial Necessity - Chapter 21

A 12xRose Human AU

Despite an unglamorous job description, Rose loves the work she does with The Thistle Foundation, a charity founded by her best friend’s great-uncle. It doesn’t hurt that her boss, her friend’s father, is easy on the eyes. With a great job, wonderful friends and a loving family, life couldn’t be better – except for having someone to share it with.

All of that is threatened, though, when the great-uncle dies – and sets a strange condition for his nephew to inherit, jeopardizing the Foundation and Rose’s future, sparking a chain of events that might just get her everything she dreamed of and more.

Chapters will be posted on Saturdays and Tuesdays. Many thanks to my beta, @stupidsatsuma

Rated: Explicit, for eventual smut

@doctorroseprompts

AO3 | Masterlist

—

Sunday, cont’d

“It’s absolutely gorgeous here,” Rose murmured as they strolled the gardens. “So different from the hustle and bustle of London. The rolling green hills, mountains in the distance. I thought my parents’ house was out of the way, but this…”

“I’m glad you like it,” he said, with perhaps a touch of smugness. “I’ve always loved it up here, the wide open spaces, the lack of people… It’s been a long time.”

“Why?”

Malcolm gave her a wry smile. “Missy. I thought… I was afraid that I’d come up here and just… drown in the memories. That I’d look around every corner and see the ghost of the past.”

Rose nodded, biting back a sigh. I should’ve known. “Well, if there’s anything I can do to help…” She realized the danger in that only when she finished speaking. Yeah, sorry, that doesn’t mean a shag. If we were strangers in a pub and you wanted to fuck me to forget your ex, I’d probably say yes. But here, now, as us? Not bloody likely.

“I said I was afraid that would happen. But, thankfully, it hasn’t. I don’t see the past, I just see… the future. My future.” He turned shining eyes on her, and her heart leapt in hope.

Still, she tried to deflect with a joke. “Sheepherding?”

“Aye,” he went along with it after a beat, eyes crinkling slightly as he stared at her. “I’ve always suspected that was my true calling, but never wanted to face facts. How did you know?”

She laughed, shaking her head. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Of course,” he grinned, using their entwined elbows to pull her into his side. “Can you imagine? Me, whistling at dogs all day? Walking through muck? It’s an honest living, but I’m not the man for it.”

“Good to know, because if it was, that should’ve been a conversation before the vows.”

“There’s probably a few conversations we should’ve had before the vows,” Malcolm murmured, and she glanced up to find him staring at the ground. “But, here we are.”

Rose’s brow furrowed, wondering what he meant. “Don’t tell me there’s another Mrs. Tucker, this one locked in the attic,” she ventured.

He laughed and looked up, any evidence of his previous pensiveness gone. “If there is, it’s news to both of us,” he teased. “No, no, no one else.”

“All right, but let me know if you’ve got your eye on someone to take my place,” she warned, not entirely joking. “I need proper notice.”

“No need,” he didn’t hesitate, “there’s just you. Only you. And that’s not going to change.”

She didn’t know how to reply to that, so they lapsed into silence as they strolled the grounds. The sun was starting to sink, the visitors slowly making their way to the exit, and she wondered what, in fact, the future did hold for them.

Only time will tell.

I always hated that saying.

Jack met them at the door when they returned from their walk, smiling brightly. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Very,” Rose agreed as they stopped in front of him, subtly untwining her arm from Malcom’s; to her slight surprise, he allowed it, but only to skate his fingers down her forearm to her hand, lacing them together. It was hardly an unwelcome touch, except now she was blushing for no reason in front of his cousin. “Do you get much time to admire it? Take in the sunset?”

“I’m more likely to see the sun rise,” Jack said with a bawdy wink. “No, seriously, I’m usually up before dawn to get the day started around here, but I see the sunset on occasion. When Yan has a day off on a clear evening, we’ll go out in the boat and watch from the water. If you get the chance while you’re here, you should. It’s tres romantic.”

Malcolm gave a slight groan. “Well, we might’ve before you admitted to a romp in it,” he complained. “You’re incorrigible.”

His cousin just shrugged, still grinning. “But always satisfied. Can you say the same?” He scanned Rose, gaze lingering just shy of making her uncomfortable. “Maybe so.”

“Don’t talk about her like that,” Malcolm said sharply, stiffening next to her. “She’s still the-”

“Malcolm,” Rose interrupted quietly, squeezing his hand, “don’t. He’s just joking around. Right?” she sent Jack a pointed look.

Thankfully, he was as bright as he was pretty, quickly nodding along. “I just meant that you look happy.”

Still looking as though his feathers were ruffled, Malcolm gave a sharp nod and a sigh. “Fine. Were you waiting for us for a reason?”

“Uh, yes,” he jumped tracks relatively smoothly, “I thought you might want to check in with Gwen, introduce her to Ro- Lady Gallifrey, that sort of thing. She’s got a few minutes right now.”

“Yes, let’s.”

“Well, another fabulous meal,” Rose grinned as they left the dining room. “Why doesn’t Ianto- that’s his name, right?- open his own restaurant?”

“He, uh, started as a footman,” Malcolm, replied, distracted, as he tried to decide where to go now. “Fell into the cooking when the position opened up. I’m reasonably certain he stayed for Jack- he was always talking about moving on before they got involved. Hasn’t mentioned it in years, now.” The last time we had a drink in the library, we ended up in bed. I don’t want her to think I’m propositioning her, but that’s been our routine since she moved in and I like it. “Not sure I understand that, staying in a job you’ve outgrown for love.”

“I do,” Rose muttered, and his heart nearly leapt out of his chest. “Some things are worth staying for,” she added a little louder. “Why are we standing in the hallway?”

“Wasn’t sure where to go,” he decided to be honest, glancing at her. “I can give you more of a tour, we can turn in early, have a drink… Watch a movie?”

Her lips quirked up, and she arched an eyebrow. “I presume there’s a drink cart in the library, same as at home?”

He nodded, unable to speak, too overcome with joy at her calling the townhouse ‘home’ already.

“Then, shall we?”

Deep in the throes of déjà vu, he purposely turned his back on her as they entered, heading right for the cart to fix their drinks. “Scotch, or something else? I’ve got a full cart here- you’d think they were expecting the queen.”

“The usual is fine,” she said easily, and he turned to find her browsing the bookshelves. “Honestly, I don’t understand how you can bear not living here full time. This place is amazing.”

“Thanks.” Joining her, he handed over her glass. “I love it, it’s a good respite from the real world, but… London is my home. I treasure my time here more when it’s fleeting.” Taking a sip, he sighed, confiding, “I always thought I’d bring my family up here, like I came as a child. Obviously that didn’t work out for several reasons, but… the could-have-beens and never-weres haunt me, sometimes. Makes it hard to enjoy the here-and-now.”

“I know what you mean.” Rose turned to him, putting a gentle hand on his arm, bright and kind eyes smiling at him. “But you can’t get lost in it, otherwise you’ll miss what’s happening right in front of you.”

In truth, he knew what was happening right in front of him, and it scared the living daylights out of him. He knew in his bones if he kissed her she would reciprocate, would even let him have her against this very bookcase. The idea was equal parts terrifying and intoxicating, and he wrestled with himself. “I want…”

“Yes?”

He closed his eyes, lowering his forehead to her. “I want to be happy,” he whispered, as if saying it louder would void the wish. “I want someone to love me the way I love them, with everything that they are, someone who would just… be there for me, and I could be there for her, and we could just dive into it together. Partners, in every sense. Soulmates. But… it has to be even. They have to be as present and committed as I am, because I’ve done that before, over and over, gave too much of myself and got too little in return. Am I asking too much?”

“No, you’re not,” Rose replied. Her voice was soft and warm, and a braver man would say it was full of love. “You’re not. And the fact that no one has lived up to that yet doesn’t mean no one will. Maybe… maybe you’re just looking in the wrong place.” As close as they were he felt her breath puff against his lips, could hear the shake in it. “Maybe you just need to open your eyes.”

He did, unable to resist her, to deny her siren song. Their eyes met, and for the first time, his heart dared to believe that she might actually, possibly, miraculously feel the same. “Rose-”

“Oh, God,” she suddenly gagged, eyes widening in horror. “Loo?” She broke away, running out into the hall, and he chased her, directing her into the first bathroom they came across; she slammed the door in his face, and only seconds later, the unmistakable sounds of someone being sick filtered through to him.

“Well, that’s auspicious,” he grumbled to himself, fishing out his mobile; in the 21st century, it was easier to ring the maid that way. “Rose, you all right?”

Another retch was his answer, and he shook his head.

“Fan-fucking-tastic.”

Padding out of the loo still tying the waistband on his sleep pants, Malcolm yawned. Killing the last light he climbed into bed, gingerly shifting around in a vain attempt to not disturb Rose.

“I’m sorry I was sick,” she mumbled in a small voice, and he glanced over at her back in surprise, having thought she was already out.

“Don’t be. I’m sorry. I completely forgot to tell Ianto about the raspberries, didn't even notice them. Are you sure you’re alright?”

Shuffling came from the other side of the bed, and a moment later, he saw the faint glint of her eye. “It’s all right, I forget half the time too, it’s so rarely an issue. But I’m okay, really.”

“Good.” Not quite satisfied but willing to take her word for it, he stretched out on his side facing her. “I hate to think this is how you spend your first night in Scotland.”

“I’ll say you got me drunk,” she replied, voice soft and somewhat woozy. “And the high altitude affected me.”

“It’s not that different,” he laughed softly, reaching out to brush a loose strand of hair from her face. “Not enough to be noticeable.”

Rose just sighed, snuggling a little closer. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

His heart melted, and he tentatively laid his arm over her hip, relaxing when she only moved closer still. “You’re my wife.” The words, the very idea still felt strange and unreal, even though it had now been ten days. He wondered, vaguely, if it would ever feel real, and not just a dream. “I’d do anything for you.”

“Ditto,” she mumbled. “Par’ners.” She let out a soft snore, almost out, before saying one last thing- it was hard to hear, and he wasn’t sure, but she was fully asleep before his heart could restart, let alone his brain direct words out of his mouth to ask her to repeat it.

Though he spent the next hour wide awake convincing himself it was a final thank you, the treacherous, greedy bastard living in his chest was bold enough to argue back what he really wanted her to have said.

Love you.

“I love you too,” he breathed.

He fell asleep smiling.

#bbatcfic #ficandchips #Doctor Who #doctorroseprompts #Human!12xRose #Human!Twelfth Doctor #Rose Tyler #Human AU #AU #The Nuptial Necessity

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spliinkles · 5 years

Text

Not Enough

A link to my AO3 if ya’ll wanna check out the full work

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19342819?view_full_work=true

This is the 2nd part of my dadzawa fanfic, again, the link above will take you to the full work!

Word count: 4211

inspired by the ask @boghierophant gave me!!

*********************

“You know the second he starts crawling, you’re done for.” A grunt. Nemuri sighed at the reply, taking a sip out of her drink. Her eyes fell to the two people on the ground; the smallest one, little Izuku, on his stomach and above loomed Shouta who sat cross legged beside his son, watching with almost hawk-like eyes. Nemuri wouldn’t exactly call it being overprotective… but honestly, that’s what it was- though, not like she’s complaining considering Izuku was so young (not to mention the sight was adorable.) And considering Shouta wasn’t exactly the type to really do anything when Nemuri was around except make coffee, Nemuri wasn’t about to complain.

Nemuri had only seen Izuku once before, back months ago just when they had brought little Izuku home. She had been enamoured by the small figure, surprised at how tiny he was- was he meant to be that tiny? Were all newborns that small? All the same, considering this was the second meeting, she was furthermore surprised on how big he had already grown- it reminded her of how kittens grew, and she silently laughed to herself- of course cats are the first animal she thinks of when it’s about Shouta’s kid.

She looked at the two intently, tuning back to her thoughts.

Izuku had barely hit three months old, so really, Shouta wouldn’t have to begin worrying about the aspect of crawling yet; though judging the distant look in his eye, the woman wouldn’t be surprised if Shouta wasn’t making mental notes to talk with Hizashi about starting to baby-proof the rooms more-so than they already were (she thanks whatever deity is out there that they weren’t crazy enough to child-lock every goddamn door yet).

It was also quite fascinating, watching the two of her friends looking after a child together and having received photo after photo of the said child all through her days- it made her heart swell in love for them all.

It was a welcomed sight, seeing them so happy- though more obvious in Hizashi, Nemuri could spot the twinkle in Shouta’s eyes, or the way the corner of his mouth would twitch whenever Izuku would do something. Had she not known the dark-haired man for almost a decade, she would never have guessed that he’d be someone who would want a child. The tired, slouchy man who barely spoke and preferred to stay in, yet against all odds, married the loudest, brightest sunflower and had a child with him- almost sounds like a tv drama, Nemuri noted.

Nemuri sneezed, though quick enough to use her hand to cover her mouth, “Jesus, sorry about that.” Shouta nodded his head at her, though kept his eyes on Izuku.

Her eyes focused as Shouta intently watched Izuku’s feeble attempt at raising his head, before it fell, leaving his curious green eyes to wander around the room, his failed attempt nothing but a distant memory.

Izuku’s eyes locked with Shouta’s- Izuku smiled.

“Ah god.” Shouta brought a hand to his face, hiding the obvious smile prodding onto his expression; Nemuri grinned along with him. According to Shouta, this was something Izuku had started doing- smiling. It was natural, something that came with the development of a baby, yet startling enough, the first time it occurred, Hizashi had started crying, a swell of emotion for his ‘little listener’ who merely kept the toothless grin on him, feet and hands waving slightly as he squeaked wordlessly.

Izuku’s smile was adorable. His chubby cheeks would flush, eyes squinting till they were almost closed, the expression bright and powerful for such a tiny thing. All he had to do was look at someone with his big green eyes and there it would be, his smile that could make the hardest of men crack under the intensity of it. “This has to be the cutest child I had ever damned met- like, are we sure this is yours?” Jokingly pushing her shoulder against his after taking a second to sit alongside the two, Shouta shot a glare, “I’ll have you know I was a cute baby.” “Oh? Care to give proof?” Shouta snorted, “For you to use as blackmail later? Yeah, no thanks.” Nemuri whined for a second, taking this time to wiggle a finger in front of Izuku’s vision; the movement fascinating him, “A shame, really.” she giggled as Izuku’s hand wavered above, barely reaching for her hand.

At the slight squeak that left Izuku’s mouth, he gave one last burst of energy enough to brush his tiny hands against Nemuri’s. Watching Izuku smile up at her at his victory, though she wouldn’t be surprised if he was only smiling because he had locked eyes with her, she grinned back, “God, if I weren’t a hero, I would’ve already snatched you away Izuku!” her voice raised, high pitched in a ‘baby’ tone fit to catch the said baby’s attention. Though Izuku merely continued onto his smiling endeavours, she heard a grunt beside her.

She turned her attention to the smaller man, dark eyes connecting with a fiery passion Nemuri only saw when he was determined, “Yeah, you heard me stink man.” Nemuri smirked, looking down as Shouta barely moved, barely blinked- like a statue. They kept this was for what seemed like minutes until Shouta smirked himself, the creepy toothy grin that looked too weird underneath his droopy eyes.

Shouta tilted his head, and Nemuri watched as his eyes drifted from hers to his son’s, “I want you to listen to me Izuku.” Shouta started, voice flat. Nemuri would’ve cracked up at the serious tone, as if Shouta was talking to an adult, had Shouta had not continued with “When you see this woman, I want you to cry immediately.”

Nemuri gasped, offended.

Izuku blinked.

“Yeah, you tell him Izuku! Let Auntie Nemuri love you!” with enough energy, she shoved Shouta down, enough for the man to fall from his position with a dedicated ‘umph’. By the time Shouta recovered, dark eyes squinting and mouth twitching downwards into a deeper frown, Nemuri had already scooped up Izuku, placing him on her chest and her hand resting upon his head as she smiled down at the fallen man, “He’s mine now, Shouta.” “Get your own child.” Nemuri huffed, “You’ve already got Hizashi, can’t you let me have Izuku?” “Hizashi is not a child.” “Could’ve fooled me.” The woman watched as Shouta closed his mouth, retort seemingly dying in his throat, “I can’t believe Shouta’s looking after not one but TWO children.” Nemuri added, smirking at the lack of response from Shouta as the man neither denied nor confirmed her statement.

He looked away, leaving Nemuri to burst out in a boisterous laugh, clutching carefully as Izuku merely babbled in her grasp. Beside her, Shouta smiled.

Yeah, it was a welcomed sight indeed.

***

Over the course of the next few days, life continued as normal; during the morning, Hizashi would go for patrol for a good portion of the day, usually tending between four to five hours, before coming home, usually to Izuku curled up on Shouta’s chest as the man read, or wrote reports (the luxury life of a hero). From there, they would have almost half a day to themselves before Shouta had to leave for his patrol during most of the night, much to Hizashi’s disappointment ‘I just wanna cuddle you, Sho!’

It was fast paced, but manageable.

Shouta remembered the first time Hizashi had to go back to work after bringing Izuku home. It had been only five days, yet five was enough for Hizashi to almost quit his life as a hero where he stood; Shouta knew Hizashi had a knack of doing things impulsively however, and had already confiscated the phones before Hizashi could even attempt to ring and go through with it, much to Hizashi’s disappointment.

He remembered Hizashi on the verge of tears, a worried look plastered on his face as he quite literally shuffled to the door, one antagonising small step at a time, hoping to catch Shouta in his puppy dog eyes; Shouta wouldn’t having it, however.

Time almost seemed to jump from the second he left to when he came back though, and soon enough he found himself smothered by Hizashi’s kisses, before the man held Izuku and wept, ‘I missed you two so much!’ Shouta would be lying if he said he didn’t feel touched by Hizashi’s love.

One of the main things he remembers though, is turning around to Hizashi after he calmed down and asking, “See? That wasn’t so bad now as it?” the look Hizashi gave him silenced him immediately. “I don’t know how other people do it, Shouta,” Hizashi had started, a waver to his voice, “every second was like a nightmare- I felt so scared for you both, I don’t even know how to describe it.”

Shouta had blinked at that.

“You wait till you have your patrol, Shouta, you’ll see.”

Shouta doubted that- he trusted Hizashi to look after Izuku and it was only for five hours- they’d be fine.

It took a little under a minute for Shouta to take those words back after he closed the door to the apartment for his patrol.

He fucking loathed it.

He physically had to stop himself from turning back there and then before calming down and starting on his normal route.

Didn’t stop him from being on edge, however. The creeping thoughts, the ‘what if’s’ that seemed to haunt his every action. Every step took him one step further away from his home, away from Hizashi- away from his son.

He counted every second, all 18000 of them.

The second he opened that door, he connected eyes with Hizashi, who merely opened up his blanket from where he sat from the couch, Izuku on his chest fast asleep- It was like a weight lifted off his shoulders, a relief that had left him full force, quick enough to make him feel lightheaded if not just for a second, before he made his way over, not caring to ask why Hizashi had stayed up until the early hours of the morning (he knew why and his heart swelled at the thought).

There were no words exchanged, just the feeling of understanding.

It had gotten better, more often than not. The constant patrols, though something they had become so used to before Izuku, now had new meaning, a new type of patience they both had to learn- to adapt to. It was an almost sense of belonging, that they did this for a bigger cause now that they had a child of their own. Easy enough, most criminals they came to capture had only been petty thieves among most, another two having been fighting in front of a pub, both wasted off their heads- Shouta very much disliked those kinds of people.

Fast paced, but manageable all the same.

However, something was off.

Shouta didn’t know what.

Today, Shouta knew it was one of those days. The kind where he woke up and just knew something was going to happen, whether good or bad. Whether it’ll be the water in the shower was cold instead of warm, or maybe he’d find out his patrol was cancelled- one thing was all it would take for Shouta to just know. Shouta didn’t like these days, no, they were unpredictable and caused too much trouble for him.

Yet he trudged on.

Hizashi had already left for his patrol, many hours ago. In fact, he knew he’d be home in little under half an hour. Izuku was quietly on the ground on one of the sensory blankets Hizashi had got him, one that was soft like silk, yet warm and thick. Shouta found it easy for Izuku to simply lie there for a while, at least until he was hungry- In thinking that, the black-haired man turned to the formula for Izuku’s meal, quickly testing the bottle onto his skin before deeming it acceptable enough for his son before making his way over, shaking the bottle in front of Izuku.

He watched Izuku’s eyes snap over to him and smile, hands flailing, as well as his legs; Shouta smiled alongside him.

He quickly bundled the small figure, before beginning to feed. Bottle-feeding Izuku had been a challenge at the start. Whilst doctors recommended Izuku be breast-fed the first couple of days, something in which Midoriya Inko had been happy to do until Shouta and Hizashi had taken him home, getting Izuku to drink from the bottle was an experience.

More often that not for the first three to four times, Izuku had barely drank it- just enough for them to wait half and hour before trying again. It was normal- it was an adjustment Izuku had to make; it took nearly a week for Izuku to properly feed onto a whole bottle at one time.

Which made Shouta pause when Izuku spat out the bottle, merely second after drinking. “No? You know it’s your feeding time, Izuku.” Shouta whispered, giving pause for several seconds before tying again- POP! The bottle spat out once more, much to Shouta’s worry. The man looked at Izuku’s face, noting nothing of any difference- Was Izuku being problematic? “Ok p-problem child, we’ll try once more.” The sound of those words gave him an ugly feeling, noting the word problem- he probably shouldn’t say that again.

It quickly became a problem once Izuku seemed to refuse once more.

Shouta felt the realisation crawling up his bad- this was his sign. Today was going to be a bad day.

He felt his anxiety spike, if not just for a second at the thought, though he took a couple deep breaths, enough to calm him. He’s dealt with this before, he started, he can do this- a whine. Shouta looked down, watching Izuku squirm from his blanket, “Oh.” Shouta’s dealt with this before- hasn’t.

Shouta took another breath in, though this time longer- deeper. He can do this, he just has to keep Izuku happy, just until Hizashi got home- two people are better than one, he can do this. The man stood, slowly unravelling Izuku from the blanket, and placing the tiny figure onto the sensory blanket, that was overrun with small noises and fabrics that crinkled and twinkled at Izuku’s weight.

Izuku stopped his whining, body slack against the ground, wide eyes connecting with Shouta’s.

Shouta crouched down beside him, taking a couple seconds to watch- to simply observe. He had to be careful about this. Izuku’s eyes wandered, the curiosity so seemingly endless, no matter how often he’s put here to relax. Shouta picked up the edge of the blanket, one that crinkled under his touch- Izuku’s focus was immediately captured at it, enough that his hands waved slightly, towards the fabric. Shouta crinkled it once more.

Then a hiccup.

Shouta’s heart dropped, watching Izuku’s eyes glistening, hands dropping beside him, “Izu?” Shouta opted for a softer voice, one that defied his normal tone, yet he couldn’t care less- There was a look that shined in Izuku’s eyes, all it took were mere seconds for his face to change expression from one to the next; once soft and curious, led to a distressed frown, mouth quivering barely, though Shouta saw it- the adult felt his heart beat fastened, quickly launching himself at Izuku and scooping him up gently, a hand resting on the back of his head, “hey, hey, it’s ok Izu, daddy’s here-“

A wail.

Shouta’s heart shattered at the intensity of it, before quick enough delving into the thick of it, heart thrumming quickly.

A little under ten minutes later, Shouta found himself in his, Hizashi’s and Izuku’s room, Izuku himself perched upon the dark-haired man’s bed, as he took a couple deep breaths in.

Shouta held his hands to his face, the swelling grasp of worry tight against his throat as his thoughts swam against the current of his anxiety. His heart had yet to slow, as was the constant ringing in his ears- it was like white noise, like static that dug into his skull like a drill.

He felt like he could throw up.

His eyes fell onto Izuku’s tiny figure below him, and he couldn’t help but to let out a distress whine, listening to the heartbreaking sobs that left his son’s mouth.

Shouta had tried everything- diaper change, baby formula, rocking him, anything that had seemed to work in past, yet now left Izuku screaming for something Shouta couldn’t give him- The sound that rang in Shouta’s ears were terrifyingly raw, louder- stronger than ever- Shouta knew Izuku’s throat would hurt the more he sobbed, yet Shouta could do nothing but to stare-

Izuku was hurting and Shouta didn’t know what to do.

How was he meant to be a good father if he couldn’t even look after his son? Couldn’t even figure out why he was crying? Shouta’s heart clenched at the thought that he wasn’t good enough, wasn’t good for Izuku, wasn’t good for Hizashi- he wasn’t enough for anyone. Was this a mistake? Was becoming a father the wrong thing to do? His stomach almost flipped at that thought, yet looking at Izuku’s crying face, he couldn’t find it in his heart to stop himself from thinking it.

He didn’t know what to do-

He didn’t-

He couldn’t-

Shouta choked on his breath.

He couldn’t breathe.

It felt like a vice on his throat, stronger than ever before. His vision almost went white yet blurred as the tears he had felt slowly build seemed to overflow immediately, leaving Shouta standing there in short bursts of choking as he tried to get himself to breath. He felt his body go cold, almost paralysed as his own choked sobs, though quieter, more contained, filled the room. Shouta felt his heart leap to his throat as his knees buckled, swerving away from the bed slightly and finding his way to the ground, hands unconsciously levitating to his ears at a poor attempt to block out the noise.

It felt like an overload- too much noise, too much noise-

He pulled at his hair, breathing short to non-existent still, yet the shaking that overcame him held him in place, chest heaving as his mind blanked- beside him, Izuku cried on, sobs scratchy, yet still prominent.

There was so much noise-

Shouta felt something touch his shoulder- dark eyes flung open to the blurry figure in front of him- what’s happening? What’s wrong? He eyes twitched at the noises, through the sobs and the screaming, yet he couldn’t understand- was someone talking to him? Why? What can’t he understand? What’s wrong with him?

His head throbbed, as if it was being split open. The thrumming of his heart still throbbing at his head, the continuous loop of white noise and choked breaths too familiar for the man-

God, he wanted Hizashi.

The hand on his shoulder tightened, “Sho-“ Shouta gasped, a wrecked sob leaving him as his flew to the figure, shaky arms wrapping around them and In return, the figure did the same- the immediate warmth grounding him, “H-Hiz- Zashi-“ his throat already burned, yet he took a short breath in, “Hiza- Hizash-“ “Shh,” Shouta closed his mouth, “breathe Sho- big breaths, ok?” the smaller man felt the blonde imitating the instructions- in, out, in, out- Shouta followed on; his shaky breaths wheezing past the tightness. In the back of his mind, Shouta hated how weak he felt- struggling to breath as if his own son wasn’t dealing with something worse-

Shouta’s eyes snapped to a focus, just as his heart dropped, “Izuku-“ he pushed back, away from Hizashi who stumbled slightly, a look of hurt flashing before his eyes before he reached out, yet Shouta moved away- the high pitched screaming still continued, Izuku’s sob’s clear- were they always this loud? “Oh no- oh, no, no, no.” he himself stumbled at the force of his ascent, lightheaded for a mere second before he held a palm to his head, eyes blinking a couple times. He opened his eyes, staring down at Izuku-

Shouta sucked in a breath.

Izuku’s face had painted a near bright red, skin blotchy and tense. Tears cascading down his small face and snot dribbled down his nose, the creases of his face squishing in together to create a look of pure distress- his eyes were closed, yet Shouta could easily see the puffiness of them.

He looked so fragile-

Hizashi picked himself up, reaching out to Shouta, “Sho… ?” dark eyes wavered, yet stilled at the child, “I’m a terrible father.” It was a mere whisper, one that Hizashi wasn’t sure he was meant to hear, not with the intensity of his sons screaming, yet he did- he felt his heart break, “Shouta, you are no-” snapping his gaze, Shouta glared at Hizashi. The blonde flinched, bringing his hand back before opening his mouth, “I’m serious- you know that.” Hizashi’s voice remained strong- the sound bringing Shouta back for a quick second before he tightened the grip of his palms, “I good father doesn’t leave their kid crying.” “You didn’t leave hi-“ “A good father doesn’t have a fucking panic attack in front of them,” Shouta continued, bottom lip quivering as the words left his throat.

Apart from the sobbing, it was pure silence.

Hizashi moved, wrapping himself around Shouta as the man stood there, frozen. The air felt so thick. The thrumming in his head had slowed into a dulled ache, eyes stinging, no doubt bloodshot, as time ticked on.

How long had he been like that? Sitting on the ground pathetically, leaving his son a crying mess barely three feet from him- what would have happened if Izuku had started choking? Had fallen of the bed? Shouta felt angry at himself- some kind of father he was- “Stop that.” Shouta flinched, pausing beneath Hizashi’s embrace, “stop berating yourself for something that was out of your control.” Shouta bit his lip, “I should know-“ “Izuku is your first child,” Hizashi paused, “and I know you- he’s the first child you’ve even begun to look after- you don’t have siblings, hell, you never look after kids, it’s- it’s ok to be lost, sometimes, that’s why I’m here.” Hands ran through his messy hair and Shouta melted in the touch, the overwhelming thoughts dying ever so slightly, as did the throbbing in his skull.

God, Shouta felt so fucking tired.

“I think he’s sick.” Wide eyed, Shouta detached himself from the embrace, though let Hizashi hold him by the shoulders. They both locked eyes, and Shouta saw the calm, serious expression plastered on Hizashi’s face; compared to his own, he knew the bloodshot, mess he was mustn’t have been the most attractive thing the blonde had seen recently- “Sick?” His tone was barely above a whisper- sick? Izuku was sick? How- how? Why? Would he be ok? Did they need to go to the hospital- “H-hey, Sho, calm down.” At Hizashi’s whine, Shouta paused, “remember, I’ve dealt with this before- I’ve had plenty of siblings, and plenty of experiences with this kind of stuff.” Shouta deflated, relief flooding his whole body at the words, “We’ll probably need to see a doctor though, I’ll call one in a sec, but I want you to tell me you’re ok, ok?” the black-haired man nodded, but Hizashi shook his head, “tell me properly.” “I- uh, I’m ok. I think.” His voice, soft yet scratchy, reached Hizashi’s ears and the taller man nodded, “Get yourself a drink, I’ll deal with this.” Shouta nodded, heart stammering and swelling with love and relief- Shouta might not have been able to do this, but Hizashi will. He knew of it. “Shouta.” The said man paused, before looking back. Kind eyes caught his own- Hizashi smiled, “You are a good father- don’t you ever think otherwise.”

Shouta couldn’t even begin to comprehend the overbearing affection he felt as he nodded as he sucked in a breath and quick enough almost seemed to leap out of the room.

***

A common cold.

Izuku had contracted the common cold. Though not as serious as it would’ve been to an adult, there was a danger that it could escalate; anything could happen- the doctor had told them, keep an eye out and you should be ok.

Shouta had found out, according to a late-night visit from Nemuri after a text explain what happened a couple days later, that she had caught the cold a week previous- though Shouta was not mad at her (Nemuri had thought it was gone 100% completely and wouldn’t of dared come if she knew it would’ve turned out like this), the experience did lead to noting for future research on a wide variety of illnesses prone to babies- Shouta was going to make sure nothing surprising like this ever happened again (he knew illness was inevitable in most cases, though being able to spot the problem before it occurs would be appreciated).

But for now, he was content on watching Izuku closely, with newly equipped information and his husband by his side- and it was ok, he could do this. They both could, together.

#dadzawa #bnha #mha #spliinkles writes #izuku midoriya #aizawa shouta #present mic #yamadad

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theprogressofspring · 6 years

Text

Why did Voldemort force Peter to move in with Snape?

Long ago, I said my next piece would be about why Peter went back to Voldemort. HOWEVER there has been some recent interest from readers regarding the subject of Snape and Peter living together, and I’m grateful for the encouragement and for the reminder! It’s been a while since I’ve added a new essay to the bunch, and I admit that this is one of the periods of Peter’s life (not to mention a plot of Voldemort’s) that I find especially fascinating.

Voldemort’s decision to place Peter at Spinner’s End likely happened immediately after the events at the Little Hangleton graveyard in Goblet of Fire: Voldemort has a body now. He no longer requires full-time care, nor would he want to remind his followers that he ever needed it—it wouldn’t do to have Peter remain by his side. Plus, all this one-on-one time and physical/magical reliance has given Peter an unusual amount of knowledge about Voldemort, and perhaps the knowledge has made Peter…overly familiar. So, Voldemort removes Peter to Spinner’s End, and likely moves back into the Riddle House in Little Hangleton by himself.*

*Between the World Cup and Triwizard Tournament, Voldemort and Peter were living at Barty Crouch Sr’s home, which has now been compromised due to Barty Jr’s arrest. Voldemort doesn’t move into Malfoy Manor until right before Deathly Hallows begins.

Therefore, Peter is out of a job. I expect that Peter—with his fancy silver hand and Voldemort’s apparent gratitude—thought that he would now take his place at the Adult Table with the rest of the still-loyal first-tier Death Eaters that showed up at Little Hangleton when Voldemort called them. But…no.

Instead, Voldemort removes Peter from the Inner Circle, where all the action is happening and the plans are being made, and places him not only in Snape’s company, but in Snape’s own house, and therefore—it could be argued—under Snape’s authority.

Snape is, admittedly, not in the most secure position among the Death Eaters and Voldemort. He’s only just reemerged after living in essentially Dumbledore’s lap for the last 15 years. But he has over a decade of information that is valuable to Voldemort, and Voldemort isn’t foolish enough to disregard that, even if he doesn’t fully trust Snape (yet).

I suspect Voldemort placed Snape and Peter together for a couple reasons:

1. to have them spy on each other;

2. to get Peter out of his hair (or lack thereof), but not out of his orbit;

3. to stir shit.

Voldemort doesn’t fully trust Snape yet—he needs to hear some of that alleged Dumbledore/Order information first—and he’s never seen Peter operating as a full-time Death Eater**; there’s plenty of reason to believe that Peter might try to make a run for it.

**Unlike some, I don’t believe Peter was a fully Marked Death Eater until after Voldemort regained a body. I don’t think he was involved with/loyal to Voldemort at all during the First War—he spilled the beans to save his own life, not out of loyalty to or love of evil.

It kills two birds with one stone to give these men the task of checking up on each other—it fosters competition, and it doesn’t require any extra manpower. Each takes care of the other.

There’s a sort of apocryphal legend about Pharoahs and their tombs. I’m not sure how true it is, but it illustrates my next point well. When a Pharoah—along with an architect—designed and built his tomb, he wanted to ensure that his was the largest, grandest, and most spectacular tomb that had ever come before or after. So, when the Pharoah died, the architect might be killed and placed in the tomb with the Pharoah. This way, the royal architect would never be able to improve upon that which he had made, and never share the secrets of the Pharoah’s tomb with anyone else.

This is the principle upon which Voldemort is working with regards to removing Peter from his side and his confidence. Peter, frankly, knows too much. He was Voldemort’s sole confidant for nearly a year.

It is EXTREMELY likely that Peter is the only Death Eater who is clearly aware that Voldemort has not only one Horcrux, but several.^ Peter likely knows how Horcruxes are made and was almost certainly there when Nagini was made into one. He has seen Voldemort at his most vulnerable as well as at his most evil. Peter has proven himself not only a competent wizard, but an extraordinary one. Not to mention a dogged survivor!

^Snape doesn’t become aware of this until Dumbledore shows up with a rotting hand and the Peverell ring between OotP and HBP.

Peter’s not worth killing, either. A man who is willing to do anything to live is a valuable tool for someone like Lord Voldemort. Peter has proven that he’s willing to do the dirty work. (Bertha Jorkins, for example.)^^

^^In this way, Peter:Voldemort::Snape:Dumbledore. It’s a delicious and compelling parallel that lends itself beautifully to this circumstance.

Besides, Voldemort created his own insurance in the form of the silver hand, which seems to be programmed to kill Peter should he show an inclination to disobey Voldemort. Regarding the circumstances of Peter’s death as a consequence of sparing Harry’s life, there’s some confusion regarding the Life Debt business, but both the text and Pottermore heavily imply (or claim outright) that Peter did indeed show Harry a moment of mercy†, and the hand turned on him and strangled him to death as punishment for that mercy.

†The canon text grants this only grudgingly—Peter himself seems surprised to have done it, which muddies the waters a bit re: the hand and its motives/purpose.

Now, to my third point:

Almost nobody would argue with the idea that Voldemort is a raging drama queen. So when I say Voldemort was absolutely stirring shit by putting Snape and Peter under the same roof, you shouldn’t find it at all surprising.

It’s not just the fact that Peter ran with the two boys that made Snape’s life a living hell for almost a decade (and contributed to that hell, I’m sure, in his own right), not to mention with the werewolf who nearly—through no fault of Remus’s own—killed Snape. By the time Goblet of Fire ends, Snape is well aware that for all of his other awful and infuriating personality traits, Sirius is indeed innocent of betraying the Potters. Which can mean only one thing:

Snape knows that Peter Pettigrew is the one responsible for Lily’s death.

Snape’s feelings for and relationship to Lily were not a secret, especially to Voldemort (since Snape asked him to spare Lily’s life) and to the people Snape went to school with—especially James, who was fixated on and jealous of Snape and Lily’s friendship. Peter would, of course, be aware. I have no doubt that Peter immediately realized the position he was being put in when Voldemort ordered him to live with Snape in Spinner’s End, and I’m sure he was quite rightly nervous.

Isn’t that a delightful little mindfuck move on Voldemort’s part? Putting Snape and Peter together in time-out is a very practical punishment. He puts Snape with his childhood tormentor and the one who got the woman he loved killed, as punishment for perceived abandonment. And naturally Voldemort would be aware that Snape would hate and resent Peter because of their shared childhood and because of Lily; so what a fitting punishment for Peter, who is a man terrified that his past will catch up to him. All because he dared to witness Voldemort at his weakest. (Voldemort is SO petty, you guys.) And it dovetails so nicely with the primary reasons for placing them together: both Snape and Peter will be on edge, each desperate to prove his own loyalties as well as extra sensitive to any flaw in his roommate’s.

But Snape can’t let on that Lily’s death bothers him, nor murder Peter and risk outing himself as disloyal to Voldemort and the Death Eaters. What Snape can do, however, is make Peter’s time in Spinner’s End unpleasant and irritating. And the chapter Spinner’s End establishes exactly that: Snape treats Peter like a servant, and—as he does to Bellatrix—likely lords his own usefulness to Voldemort (and therefore, his arguably larger worth to him) over Peter’s head in the process.

And Peter can’t fight back. He’s not an idiot—he’s the kind of guy who knows when he knows too much. As to why he puts up with Snape treating him like shit, on one hand, I’m sure Peter is aware he deserves it (and besides, it’s only a couple months until Hogwarts is back in session). On the other, it’s not going to help him one whit to go complaining to Voldemort. As Peter’s been excused from the field of duty (and would frankly be too conspicuous‡), he can’t do anything to earn a reward, and unless he has rock-hard evidence that Snape is a traitor to Voldemort, Peter knows he’s stuck where he is. Which is exactly why he puts so much effort into spying on Snape in the hopes of catching him out and taking the opportunity to restore himself in Voldemort’s good graces. (Frankly, I wouldn’t be surprised if Voldemort suggested that was a Very Important Job and the only way for Peter to make his way back to the Adult Table.)

‡Sirius parallel!

Unfortunately, we only get a tiny glimpse into the life that Snape and Peter had made! There’s a massive well of tantalizing possibilities here regarding their interactions in Spinner’s End—how do you think it went? (I have a pet theory that they ended up tolerating each other quite well—they’re both DEEPLY lonely men with a great deal of shared history and references. I think there’s a lot about each other that they understand, which can, of course, be repulsive in this instance, but when it comes to a roommate, sometimes you also have to get on with it and cook a shared dinner and chat about the day’s events.)

I always love hearing your reactions, questions, and observations on these essays—please do keep them coming! If you like this, check out the rest of my Peter collection here.

#peter pettigrew #severus snape #Harry Potter #HP meta #meta #my meta #justice4peter2k18 #lord voldemort #i made this

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ererichi · 5 years

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I see you're drawing Ereri and I thought... do you have some recs on fics or something that got you into Ereri? (or further deepened your passion) because I lost all of it like 2 years ago since I read all doujins there were and it's kind of... Where has that tingling feeling gone to...? That reminds me, I never read any fics of them. Or talked with others abt them. Wow, don't know if to call that love shallow or just unconditioned lol

I’m going to be really honest with you, I barely read any ereri fics neither did anything really stick with me. It’s been years since I last read something that I actually liked so I’m kind of in the same struggle as you are. I think what really got me into ereri is either the fanart or theories about the characters.

(Ahem, and the fanservice from the actual anime like the official artwork and the chimi chara stuff lmao.)

I’ll list a couple of fics I somewhat still remember though. Mind you though, it’s been years since I last read them so I have no idea if the pairing is correct in the way you want to and uh, yeah… you’ve been warned!

It’s Funny Because Eren Can’t Read

In the Survey Corps, reading and comprehending paperwork is equally as crucial as it is beyond the realm of Eren’s capabilities. However, with his CO’s confidential tutelage, Eren is sure he’ll be able to catch up with his comrades in no time… if he can shake this unexpected suspicion that his fondness for humanity’s strongest soldier isn’t simple hero worship.

Hint: He cannot.

Log On (Unfinished)

Eren is a dedicated gamer, and he prides himself on his ascent from Bronze League Hero to a competitive player. What will he do, however, when a chance encounter with one of the world’s top gamers flips his life entirely? How is he supposed to balance a busy college life with his newfound gaming highlife? Unfortunately for him, there are no walkthroughs on what to do when you fall for someone thousands of miles away from you.

The 6th Ward (I actually really, really love this one)

A comedy about being dead.

Levi is finally returning to work as a nurse after recovering from a car crash that nearly killed him. Nothing says “welcome back” like realizing he’s lost his marbles and can see the disembodied spirits of the comatose patients in the 6th ward. He begrudgingly helps them learn how to be dead. Eren, the newest coma patient in the 6th ward, has six months to learn how to be dead. Good luck, kid.

More under the cut!

Junkyard Dogs

Autocracy — a system where one leader has absolute power — is the only government that exists in prison. Levi is the current ‘Top Dog,’ and for years, no one has had the mind to challenge his position — at least, no one until now. Enter: Eren Jaeger, a new inmate with indefinite mentalities and obscure motives. With the power to shake Levi’s throne, Eren becomes the one exception of everything.

3 AM

The story is about Levi: A neurotic man who suffers from depression, is successful at writing but unsuccessful at everything else. Setting: Breakfast (never in the morning) at his favorite diner, a record store that hasn’t dusted its ceiling fan since the 1970’s, a hole in the wall cafe to drink black tea and judge the terrible tongue tied poets on the shoddy ill-lit stage, a park with swings that are always annoyingly wet, and his immaculate apartment in the city. Levi is riddled with quirky traditions and struggles with anxiety, still battling childhood memories he can never completely forget. Then enter Eren Jaeger, the too loud and too passionate guitar player that takes the stage one night that just won’t stop staring at Levi. Eren is full of hope and promise and everything Levi needs, but Levi can’t have what’s good for him. Right?

What’s Eating You?

As far as accepting one’s death goes, Eren Jaeger thinks he’s doing pretty well. Except for the fact that he should have turned days ago. Why was his bite healing, when he had witnessed several others’ turn them into the soulless monsters now consuming the streets? It doesn’t help that he has been separated from everyone he could call a friend, only to be found by a mysterious group of survivors. Including one who has a personality not far off from the creatures he is trying so hard to avoid.

Great.

Art of War

Noisy neighbors, nursling dinosaurs, satanic box cutters, shitty convenience store management, the word ‘fuck’, hereditary (but not really) homosexuality, beer and ramen, pennies, truckstops, strippers, closets, semi-public defacing, rings, house parties, “recreational” drug use, accidental rendezvous, toxic stew (don’t eat the stew), nice abs, housewives–batteries not included, over-educational movie sessions, copious domesticity, kittens named after landlords, a shit joke at participating locations, and many, many happy endings.

A modern AU in which Eren moves into the apartment directly above Levi’s.

Little Titan Café.

Just another cliche AU in which Eren works as a barista in his mother’s café, specializing in latte art. And then there’s Levi, who’s not exactly your typical patron, because, well, he’s blunt and rude (which Eren supposes isn’t that much different from regular customers) but mostly he just confuses Eren’s poor little homosexual heart.

Sword Art Online (Yes, it’s a crossover)

When something seems too good to be true, that’s because it usually is. Within three hours of the game’s start, the creator of the entire endorsement, Akihiko Kayaba, summoned all ten thousand players into the town square of the first floor. Some people were already complaining about the lack of the ‘log out’ feature. I thought it was just some sort of bug, I didn’t think anything of it when I noticed it myself.

Help Me Stand

Eren’s best childhood friend and high school boyfriend, Armin, dies in a car accident in which Eren had been the one at the wheel. Unable to keep from blaming himself, life itself becomes agonizing for Eren and he turns to the more negative side of coping mechanisms. Eventually, he meets a college student named Levi who seems like he has it all figured out, just to discover that they have more in common than he thought. Modern!AU.

You have been connected (Also unfinished)

The one where Levi’s a business man, Eren’s a college student and they meet on Omegle. Twice. It kind of seems like fate after that.

#it's been so long #i literally have no idea anymore #it's easier to keep liking the pairing #by drawing them #but i can understand your point of view too #anyways #i'm sorry if any of these are problematic now #or something?? ??#i have no idea lol #i just remember reading them #that's about it #so uh yeah #there you go i guess #answered

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som3thingcr3ative · 5 years

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Khaleesi

This was a totally self-indulgent idea I had. I don’t fuck with season 8 of GoT, so this is set in two different times- in Westeros, Daenerys has just freed Mereen and is staying there for a little while until she has gathered her strength for a play on the Iron Throne. Beyond that, this will be pretty canon divergent. GRRM himself will even make an appearance in later chapters.

Synopsis: It started at a party one fall night. Everything can be traced to this fateful day- the time travel, the wizard, the magic, the dragons… even the government involvement. It all started here.

Rhaegar Shade has never truly known what it is to be normal: he’s never looked normal, he’s never acted normal, and he sure as hell doesn’t have normal pets. He has tried to fit in, but he never truly found a place where he belonged- until the Mage George R. R. Martin decides it’s time. D&D aren’t taking GoT seriously on screen. Up until now, they were showing what needed to be shown- but GRRM knows exactly what will happen if they remain in control, so he does the only thing he can about it.

He adds a pawn to the board, one who was removed from play long ago, if only to keep him alive.

Pairing: (In later chapters) Daenerys x Jon Snow, Rhaegar / Daenerys and Rhaegar / Jon.

Warnings: Concussions, break-up, almost-rape, self-doubt, bad coping mechanisms (running away from problems)

Game of Thrones season seven episode seven played on the massive television attached to the wall of Rhaegar Shade’s basement as the twenty-somethings assembled there became increasingly drunk.

“Cheers to our own Targaryen, Rhaegar the King of Parties!” One frat boy loudly announces, standing on Rhaegar’s couch with a sloshing red solo cup of beer in one hand. Rhaegar smiles and nods graciously, used to this at his age. His white hair and violet eyes had won him the name from his adoptive mothers, who were massive Game of Thrones fans at the time of his adoption. Two years old and diagnosed with Alexandria’s Genesis, there was no doubt that the name fit. He truly did look like a Targaryen. Now twenty-three, an ER nurse at the local hospital, Rhaegar had submitted himself to a night of torture- but only for his girlfriend.

“Cheers!” Jasmine yelled, squeezing her boyfriend’s middle with the arm wrapped around him, raising her own, well-policed red cup in excitement. Rhaegar smiled at her, this time a true smile. The two had met a year before and had been dating for seven months at this point, Jasmine instantly taken with his unusual looks and sweet demeanor. She was the reason for the party. Twenty-one years old, in college for graphic design, she had decided to host a viewing party for the infamous show before the eighth season came on. Rhaegar thought it was useless; everyone there -save himself-would be too drunk to remember what happened.

His girlfriend, thoroughly intoxicated, slipped her hand down his back to squeeze his ass- he flinched, watching her stagger away toward the alcohol. He followed, grabbing her hand to stop her.

“I think you’ve had enough.” He says, turning her to face him.

She rolls her eyes. “Babe, don’t you think it’s about time we had sex?”

He flinches again, watching her sway in place. “No,” He says, entirely sure, “For two reasons.” Jasmine frowns, reaching around him to grope him again- he smacks her hand away. “You’re drunk, and you know I don’t want it.”

“You’re a guy, you’re supposed to want it.” She complains, her words slurring. “I think it’s just an excuse.”

“You’ve had enough.” he repeats, sick of this same conversation. Every time she has a drink, the ‘issue’ of his sexuality- or lack thereof- comes up. Every single time, she complains about his Asexuality, despite their agreement. He knew, reasonably, that she would have needs that he didn’t. Instead of letting it fester into a problem, he’d told her that should she have those needs, she was free to have sex with other people- so long as she was safe and he knew where she was. When she was sober, it was never an issue. Now, however, she was getting handsy and disrespectful. He takes her drink and sets it on the nearby counter, then, guiding her by the hand, takes her up to his room to sleep it off.

While she stumbles up the steps in front of him, he keeps a steady hand on her back. She mumbles something under her breath that he can’t hear.

“What?”

“I said… I said I want to have sex!”

He shakes his head, keeping an eye on her feet and the stairs. She trips, but he quickly catches her and sets her right again. “I’d say there’s plenty of guys around, but they’re all drunk and so are you. You can do whatever you want in the morning.”

“I don’t want them, I want you.” She complains, turning around to him, nearly falling backwards.

“We’re not having this conversation on the steps.” He says, finally just lifting her bridal-style in his arms and carrying her the rest of the way. Once she’s safely on the bed, he lets her go. “You’re not like this sober, Jasmine.”

“But I want you…” She purrs, grabbing him by the front of the shirt and kissing him- hard.

Rhaegar can taste the alcohol on her breath. He knows, logically, that when she’s sober, Jasmine is sweet and kind- but this side of her, the drunk side, the side that he’s seeing in a new light- this side scares him. He pushes her away, but she only rears back and smacks him across the cheek.

Shocked, he simply stares at her.

He closes his eyes and turns away from her. For a split second he feels her hand against his back, but he moves away- she knows better than to force him, he thinks. She respects him more than that- but he’s wrong and her hands return, insistent, tugging at his jeans.

“Jasmine,” He growls, “Let go!” He grabs her wrists, trying to release her grip on him to no avail, so he takes her shoulders and shakes her lightly. “Stop!”

She only becomes more and more aggressive- she smacks him again, then kisses him. He pushes her away, tells her no, tries to leave, but she’s stronger and more angry when drunk, and the logical, sweet woman he has come to trust is gone.

His breath coming too quickly, Rhaegar shoves her away a little harder than he should- a little harder than he intended, but it does the trick. She backs into the headboard, staring at him with lust-blown eyes. He stares back, trying to remember to breathe through the realization that he was almost raped.

Still, her next words hurt. “I’m done.” she says. “With this. With you.”

“What?” He breathes, head spinning.

“We’re breaking up, dimwit.” She says.

He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes and gathers his thoughts. “Because I won’t have sex with you?”

“Because you’re a broken toy and I’m done trying to fix you.”

“I’m not broken.” He growls, fists clenching. Targaryen fire, he thinks as his blood heats. Maybe my moms were right about that. “There’s nothing for you to fix. We’ll talk about this when you’re sober.”

She huffs, but slips under the covers nonetheless. “Find somewhere else to sleep.”

“It’s my bed,” he protests, but even as he says the words, he realizes he doesn’t want to be near her. Rhaegar still places a cup of water and tylenol on the nightstand for her, a trash can beside the bed. He leaves the room quietly, his heart still pounding.

In the basement, the party has continued unrelenting. The credits are rolling on screen, so he shuts off the TV and climbs onto the sofa.

“You guys know the drill.” He says, loud enough for the party to stop around him. “Call your Ubers, finish your drinks before they come. I’m not going to have any drunk drivers.”

He climbs down from the couch amid the groans, but the drunks pull out their phones anyway and arrange for their rides. He’s quiet as he starts to clean up- unattended drinks get poured out and thrown away, trash collected, the passed-out party-goers left where they are. He gets Ubers for them himself, then makes sure each person goes into the right car, awake enough to get home safely.

When everyone is gone, Rhaegar falls into his couch and stares at the ceiling toward Jasmine.

“Seven months.” He mutters. There’s a dull ache in his chest, the crash of adrenaline still in his veins. Just how much he didn’t want what happened can’t be overstated- he didn’t have the urges everyone else seemed to have, didn’t want the same things they did. For him, things were simpler- he was driven by work, a passion for what he does. He worked so that he could live comfortably, so he could pay for his animals- the horse and his two wolf-dogs. He hadn’t been looking for a relationship when he met Jasmine, but it seemed that they were a good match.

At the time, he thinks bitterly. Yeah, he realizes, It’s over.

He can’t be with someone who almost raped him.

And he can’t tell anyone, either. He knows that it wasn’t his fault- he’d told the exact same thing to rape victims all the time at his work- but when he was the victim, it was harder to believe.

He stops himself from thinking what if- he shuts down the part of his brain that is telling him he’s weak for being at her mercy. I didn’t want to hurt her, he thinks. Even though she was hurting me.

Rhaegar won’t be that guy. He’s not a violent person, despite the occasional anger. He’s never hit a girl outside of the sparring ring- jiu-jitsu, karate or muy-thai- and had never raised a hand against Jasmine.

Shaking his head, he resolves to go do the one thing that never fails to clear his mind.

He leaves a note on the counter for Jasmine-

Gone riding. Be back tomorrow. -R

Then Rhaegar Shade, his mind in shattered pieces, packs a bag, gathers his two wolfdogs and leaves his house behind in favor of the barn.

The barn is quiet when he arrives at four in the morning. He lets the dogs out of the trunk of the SUV, then takes his bag and walks into the main barn, heading for the last stall in the row. Around him are the calming sounds of horses chewing hay, nickering to each other or sleeping. He flicks on only the most necessary lights to avoid bothering them, then sets his bag down and opens the stall.

Runar, his black friesian, greets him with a puff of warm air. Rhaegar’s heart finally slows at the sight of his horse, his long-time companion. He takes a deep breath of the barn’s warm air and wraps his arms around the horses’ large neck.

“Hi buddy,” he says. “I missed you.”

Runar nickers, folding Rhaegar against his chest and raising his front leg in a hug. Rhaegar laughs, feeling the weight on his shoulders and heart lift. Clarity is an odd thing, but it comes to him in that moment. He realizes that he’s better off without Jasmine. He doesn’t need someone who pressures him to have sex- he doesn’t need someone who thinks he’s broken or in need of fixing. Before her, he’d had plenty of time to come to terms with the fact that he’d never experience sexual attraction, that he could very well be alone all his life because of it.

He realizes that he doesn’t need to worry about it.

With Runar in front of him and the two dogs sniffing around behind him, he realizes that everything he needs is right there.

So it’s with a smile that he grooms his horse, with a calm heart that he puts on the saddle, breast collar and bridle, then the saddle bags with his phone, water bottle, pocket knife and snacks. Rhaegar leaves a note for the barn staff that he’s out on the trails and won’t be back until that night, just so that they won’t worry about the empty stall. He leads Runar and the dogs out of the barn, then puts on his backpack, mounts his horse and rides off into the first rays of morning light.

Back to reality, Rhaegar slips into his house quietly, having put the wolf-dogs in their enclosure in the backyard. It’s seven in the afternoon, the outside world is dark and he’s pleasantly tired- but when he looks up, he sees Jasmine leaning against his kitchen counter, still in the clothes from the night before. She’s nursing a drink.

“We need to talk,” Rhaegar says, dropping his keys into the basket by the front door. He takes an immediate right into the kitchen, digging through the fridge for a snack.

“That’s never good.” Jasmine replies, raising her eyebrows at his back.

He doesn’t bother to answer her snide comment; when he turns to face her, his eyes are dark and emotionless. To her credit, she notices and seems to realize that he’s being very serious. “What do you remember from last night?”

Jasmine frowns, her eyes losing focus as she concentrates. Slowly, the words come. “I remember…the ninth episode… A couple of shots from Brad, a drinking game.” She pauses. “I remember trying to get some, then waking up with a hangover.” Again, she stops. “Are you mad that I had sex? I thought we had a deal?”

“You didn’t have sex last night.” He answers, matter-of-factly. “When the last episode was over, you were wasted. I took you up to my room to sleep it off.” Her eyes widen.

“I tried-“she stumbles over the words. Then: “you?”

“Me.” He affirms, his gaze stone-cold. “You tried to force me.”

She just watches him for a very long second.

“I can’t do this anymore Jasmine. When you’re drunk, you’re brutally honest- I know you can’t either. We’re done.” Rhaegar turns away from her, intending to get a plate from the cabinet when something breaks over his shoulders- there’s a sharp sting as glass cuts his face and neck, then shock as he raises his hand to the cuts. The alcohol in whatever she was drinking soaked the back of his shirt and added an extra insult to injury. He looks at her without feeling anything- anything but cold. Rhaegar leans against the counter, supporting his weight on his arms. “You need to leave.”

Jasmine spits at him- he flinches, but otherwise doesn’t react, doesn’t even move until she has gathered her things and slammed the door behind her, leaving him to clean up her mess once more.

He gets every last piece of glass from the floor and counter, then cleans up the mess in the basement almost robotically, the whole time feeling cold and empty. How did I ever fall for her? He wonders, thinking about the abusive qualities she showed from the very beginning; she was manipulative, bitchy, vain and untrustworthy. There wasn’t any substance to her- she was shallower than the kiddie end of a swimming pool, with all of the bland personality of a stale ham sandwich. What did I ever see in her? He thinks, numb. I guess I was attention-starved. Makes sense.

When his mind threatens to drift to the night before, he shuts it down, turning instead to other things; he has the next three days off from work before working 18 hours straight, so he decides he’ll spend it with Runar and the dog-beasts in the woods. That thought in mind, he cleans up the basement, puts the trash on the curb, then starts packing for an overnight trail ride.

The next morning cannot come fast enough. There’s something in the air, something he can’t quite define that sets his senses on edge. He hadn’t slept well, plagued by nightmares. All of these things make him eager to get out of the house- with his bags packed the night before, Rhaegar gathers the dogs and leaves for the barn.

Runar seems to feel the uneasiness as well- he’s pacing in his stall when Rhaegar arrives, puffing at the window. He only calms down long enough to be groomed and tacked, then sets off at a trot toward the state park lands.

Barely two hours in, Rhaegar’s skin prickles with electricity. He turns in his saddle, staring up at the trees and the sky beyond- nothing. They are about half an hour out from the electric lines and there’s not a cloud in the sky- and he’s not alone in feeling the odd sensation. Fenrir, the darker of his two wolf-dogs, snarls into the tree line, hackles raised. Runar stops suddenly, leaving the four in a small clearing. Bane joins Fenrir, the two circling around Runar’s legs.

Something’s off- Rhaegar knows that. He can feel it deep in his bones. Anxiety creeps up his limbs as he checks the woods. There’s nothing around for miles. Most of the other riders aren’t at the barn until the afternoon, and none of them ride as far as he goes. He could be gone for days at a time and no one would think to look for him.

A tree cracks behind him with an earth-shattering sound. He hears it whistle through the air, hears the wolves bark and snarl as they retreat from it, hears Runar scream in a way only horses can scream- and then he feels the horse rear. Everything happens in a split second. The first tree slams into a second tree as a rip appears before him- a black, writhing mass in what had been open air, like a claw rent through fabric. The electric charge runs through his body and muscles that had been holding on for dear life suddenly go slack. He can’t do anything as he falls off backwards, sliding over Runar’s back to the unforgiving ground.

Rhaegar doesn’t even have a chance to yell before his head slams into the ground and he is rendered unconscious.

#Rhaegar Shade #targaryen #daenerys targaryen #OC #Daenerys x OC #Daenerys /OC #game of thrones #asexual OC #asexuality #Jon Snow

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