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someonestolemyshoes · 3 years

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Helplessly, Hopelessly

Cutting it a little close to the deadline, but here’s my entry for @levihan-drabbles Angst Monday! My prompt was: Levi and Hange are in an established long distance relationship, Levi surprises Hange by showing up right before midnight on New Year's Eve.

Once again, I got a little carried away :’) it’s not my favourite thing I’ve written this week but it’s done ahaha, please enjoy! And a HUGE thank you to the mods for running this whole thing, it’s been a lot of fun actually writing again.

Warnings: mentions of cheating (but I’m a big ol’ levihan sucker so worry not), body weight, anxiety/depression

It took him three attempts to knock. He even considered turning back and trying to change his flight, to head home and pretend this never happened, to live in blissful, agonising ignorance over Hange’s sudden, disinterested quiet. It was shameful, that he’d rather keep Hange ostensibly his than face any outcome where he lost them.

Levi hadn’t intended on turning up quite so last minute.

His flight was supposed to land at noon, which would have given him ample time to make his way over to Hange’s part of the city. But the weather had not been in his favour—his first flight had been delayed due to intermittent snowstorms, the chill air so thick with snow, Levi could barely see his own hand in front of his face. In consequence, he had missed his connecting flight by well over an hour, and spent the majority of his evening sitting on the floor in the overcrowded airport, surrounded by his bags, sipping piss-water tea and waiting for the next available flight taking off to London.

It had been almost eight months since he had last seen Hange in person, and even then, they hadn’t spent nearly enough time together. Hange had returned home only briefly to attend their grandmother's funeral. Levi had seen them at the service, and they’d snagged a few hours together between family engagements and the regular study periods Hange had set aside for themself during their stay, but it felt rushed, lacking. Hange had seemed flustered, then. They had confessed that their studies were proving a lot more demanding than they had initially anticipated, that they were tired. That they were beginning to feel a little burnt out, but they had no time to take any substantial break without getting too far behind to catch up again.

Levi missed them. He and Hange had, from early in their childhood up until Hange left for university, spent almost every waking second in one another's company. It was impossible to recall a time when they weren’t together, excluding a handful of miserable periods during which Hange’s family had whisked them away on some holiday or other while Levi sat in his mothers tea shop and made himself as useful as any child could.

They had grown together, through school, through their awkward, angsty teenage phases, through Hange’s stuttering realisation that gender and sexuality were incredibly confusing things, and they had no idea where they stood on either spectrum. They had tried alcohol together for the first time, tried holding hands, tried kissing and fumbling with clumsy, nervous, eager hands in Hange’s old treehouse, a touch too small for two grown teenagers, but just big enough.

They had been each other's first partners, in every sense of the term. The progression, Levi remembers, had felt equal parts strange and yet completely natural. Expected. He and Hange fell into step with the same absent simplicity as breathing; it took little thought and even less effort, to love Hange as more than a friend.

And then, Hange left for university, and Levi stayed behind to help his mother with the shop. And things had still been easy, in a way. Hange was only a phone call away, and they made sure to call or text at least once a day, even if they only had the time to spare for a quick good morning or good night or did you shower? I can smell you from here or I love you, too.

It was okay. Not ideal, but manageable. But in the last few months, Hange’s texts had grown infrequent. They were busy, they’d told him. Too many deadlines, not enough time. They would get back to him when they could.

They never did.

It was always up to Levi to reach out, and Hange, to their credit, was always incredibly apologetic about the time elapsing between points of contact—I completely forgot, Levi! I’m so sorry. Now isn’t a good time though, I promise I’ll call you back when I get a minute?

Levi had tried to reason that they probably were busy. But there were terrible, guilty, nagging doubts, and they had only grown more as time went on, as Hange’s texts and calls dribbled down to almost nothing.

It wasn’t that Levi didn’t trust Hange. He did, implicitly so. But they are young. A young couple from a small town, where a handful of kids their age are all they’ve ever known. And suddenly Hange was living in the big city, surrounded by like minded people—people who were astronomically smart, academically driven, who shared Hange’s interests. Who could do more than just listen while they chatted endlessly about plants or bugs or the vastness of the ocean, the movement of the Earth’s crust, the stars, the atmosphere in outer space, anything and everything that caught their interest. Levi had never been able to keep up, could only lend an ear and let Hange ramble until they were spent.

But they would meet people now, who could match them word for word and raise them facts they’d never even heard before. People Hange could have discussions with, debates with. People who could engage with Hange in a way Levi could never even hope to. The thought of it made his stomach hurt, and it crossed his mind too often, a guilty little echo in the back of his head every time Hange was too busy to talk to him. Every time his texts went unanswered.

And so, he had dipped into his savings and, with a little help from his mother, had bought a ticket to surprise Hange with a visit on New Years Eve. His mother assured him it was a sweet idea—romantic, she’d said, which had made Levi flush and scowl—but in truth, Levi had only decided on surprising Hange with the visit in fear that they wouldn’t want him to come, if he told them he planned on it.

Now, he was stuck navigating an endless network of underground trains, staring hopelessly at the maps on his phone and trying to figure out which line he needed to be on to make his way out to Hange’s apartment. It was already 11pm. Levi felt drained, his back and shoulders aching from carrying his luggage. The weather was cold and wet, the streets lined with slush that splashed up his legs and soaked into his shoes as he walked, and by the time he made it to what he hoped was Hange’s apartment building, an icy rain had started to fall, soaking into his pants and running in great rivulets from his coat.

He paused at the entrance. There was no keypad on the door, no way to buzz up to Hange’s room to get them to let him inside. He could ring them, but it had been weeks since Hange had answered his calls. Levi groaned, huddling under the small canopy above the door. It offered little shelter from the rain, and no barrier at all to the biting chill of the wind.

Levi had resolved to at least trying to call Hange when, by a stroke of luck he hadn’t thought possible today, the door opened, and three rather drunk and incredibly underdressed people tumbled out. They apologised to him as they stumbled by, but had the decency—or else the stupidity, Levi thought—to hold the door open for him. He thanked them quietly and slipped inside.

Hange’s apartment was on the third floor. Levi took the lift, which clattered ominously as it crawled four stories before shuddering to a stop. Levi’s stomach churned as he stepped out into the quiet hallway. There was a bubble of excitement, a thrill at the prospect of seeing Hange again after such a long time, but more than that, he felt nervous. He had no back up plan if Hange couldn’t, or wouldn’t, accommodate him. He wasn’t sure he had the money for a hotel even for a night or two, and he had optimistically booked his return flight for seven days’ time. If Hange had really changed their mind about him, about them, he had no idea what he would do.

Marking this off as one of his worst ideas to date, he dragged his luggage down the hall until he found apartment 3C.

But he was here now. He had made his bed, and he would lie in it, whatever the outcome turned out to be. He rapped three times on the door, and waited.

And waited. And waited.

His mind wandered back to the party-goers he had passed in the doorway. It was New Year's Eve, and Hange was in university. It hadn’t crossed his mind that they might have plans, since he and Hange had always spent the night together, before now. But Hange couldn’t have anticipated Levi’s appearance; it would make sense, if they had taken one night off to enjoy themselves. Pass the occasion away with friends. With someone special, even. Someone who wasn’t him. Levi’s gut turned unpleasantly at the thought.

Lost in his musings, Levi almost missed the door opening. He blinked dazedly, took in the figure in the doorway, and his stomach dropped.

There was a man standing there. Taller than Levi, with a mop of light hair and a sweet, open face, wearing a somewhat rumpled, baggy shirt and a pair of threadbare sweatpants. He took in Levi’s appearance with a startled expression. Levi swallowed hard, mouth dry, tongue thick behind his teeth.

“I’m looking for Hange,” he said. Cleared his throat. “Are they home?”

The man jumped at the sound of Levi’s voice. He rallied himself well enough, then nodded, and turned to call over his shoulder, “Hange? There’s someone at the door for you.”

Levi mumbled his thanks. He felt lightheaded, heart thudding in his chest. For a moment he and the strange man simply looked at each other, until he heard a familiar voice from inside saying, “Moblit? If it’s Nanaba, tell her to go away. I already said I’m not going.”

“Not Nanaba,” Moblit called back. Levi heard the shuffle of footsteps, and then Moblit stepped aside, and he was face to face with Hange.

It seemed to take them a second to register who he was. Their tired eyes landed on him, bloodshot and bruised purple behind their glasses. Levi watched slowly as realisation dawned on them. Their eyes grew wide, lips—dry, cracked—parted in surprise, and their skin, already sickly looking, paled further. Levi’s gaze darted to Moblit over their shoulder and back again. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but no words would come. Blood pounded in his ears.

He never should have come. He had thought he was prepared for any eventuality, ready to accept that Hange might have found some happiness in somebody else. Ready to let them go. It would be painful, he knew; it’d suck, more than anything. But he had thought he was ready for that.

In front of Hange now, staring the prospect in the face, Levi realised he was terribly mistaken. He could not have anticipated how sick he would feel, how dizzy; his chest felt heavy, full and leaden and yet hollow all the same. The most painful kind of emptiness. He looked at Hange and tried to find something to say, but his mind was blank. He could think of nothing but Hange, and the man still standing a little way behind them, watching curiously out of the corner of his eye.

The silence was long, and dreadful. Neither Levi nor Hange spoke. Levi, for his part, couldn’t find words to say, and wouldn’t have been able to push them past the lump in his throat either way. Hange had tears welling in their eyes. They built up thick and heavy on their lash line, swimming in the light from the hallway, before spilling down their cheeks.

A terrible, bitter part of him thought that Hange had no right to cry.

And then, without any warning at all, hange launched themselves at him. Their weight hit him full in the chest, their arms winding around his back and squeezing tightly, punching the air from his lungs. Their face pressed into the side of Levi’s neck and he could feel wetness on his skin, an endless flow of tears as something wretched and agonising ripped from their throat; a sob, the heavy, desperate kind that bursts up from the gut and hacks out like a terrible cough. Again, and again, Hange sobbed, sucking jumpy, shaking breaths and crying them out again.

Instinctively, Levi’s arms came up around Hange, too. One hand carded into their hair—it felt limp and greasy and knotted between his fingers—and the other flattened against their back. Something twisted in his gut. Hange felt thin. Too thin. He could trace the knots of their spine and the ridges and valleys of their rib cage; their skin pulled taut over their shoulder blades; their hip bones dug into him where Hange had pressed themself impossibly close.

Levi’s pain was replaced abruptly by concern. He held Hange a little tighter, but they felt breakable in his arms now. Fragile. Hange had never felt so small before.

Moblit’s voice broke Levi out of his stupor. He had a kind smile on his face, though his eyes held the same worry Levi felt.

“Maybe you should come inside?” He suggested. Hange sniffled against Levi’s neck. They took a few big, gulping breaths to steady themself, pulling away, though still remaining close. Levi watched as Hange pulled the sleeve of their jumper over their hand and rubbed at their cheeks, at their eyes. Something in his chest ballooned, pressing hard against his ribs, his throat. Hange looked a complete mess. Levi felt concerned, and confused. Even still, looking at Hange now, he felt terribly certain of one thing: he loved them. Helplessly, hopelessly, he loved them.

He let Hange step out of his grip slowly. His hands lingered, slipping around their waist and down their arm, but before he could move too far away, Hange closed their fingers tight around his. Levi stared at their knotted hands, then at Hange, and wordlessly let them drag him inside.

Belatedly, Levi remembered he was drenched. He could see wet patches on Hange’s jumper where they had been pressed against him, and the chill of his wet clothes seemed to sink into his bones as he crossed over the entryway. They passed Moblit, who watched them with some intrigue, then wandered out into the hallway only to return with Levi’s luggage in tow.

Hange’s apartment was open plan, the kitchen separated from the sitting room only by a countertop. It was small, and cosy, cluttered in the way Hange’s spaces always tended to be. They kept plants on every available surface, but Levi could see that some were in desperate need of tending, with dry, shrivelling leaves and sagging stems. That wasn’t like Hange at all.

By the sofas, Hange stopped him.

“Give me your coat,” they said. Their voice still sounded thick and choked, and they sniffled pitifully, but they were no longer crying. Levi obliged them in a daze. Hange took his dripping coat and tossed it, uncaring, over one of the stools by the counter. Moblit quietly collected it and hung it on a hook on the back of the door.

“What are you even doing here?” Hange asked, sitting down and pulling on Levi’s sleeve until he dropped down beside them. “How did you get here? When?”

Levi’s eyes roved over Hange’s face. He couldn’t figure out how they felt. It was an uncomfortable realisation—Hange had always been an open book to him, easy to parse no matter what they were feeling. Now, they seemed...reserved. Subdued. Not the Hange he was used to.

“I had some savings,” Levi said slowly. He cleared his throat, debated on what level of honesty he was going to reply with, before saying, “I hadn’t heard from you in a while. Wanted to make sure you hadn’t up and died on me.”

At that, Hange’s expression grew somber. They grimaced, and Levi watched fresh tears well in their eyes. He reached for their hand without thought, and Hange gripped on tightly. Levi let his thumb brush lazily back and forth over their knuckles.

“I’m sorry,” Hange said. “I’m really sorry. I just—things have been—I don’t know. I don’t know.”

Hange rubbed a hand tiredly over their face, then let their head drop onto his shoulder. They felt warm, a welcome weight against him. Levi let his cheek rest against their head, felt the tickle of their hair against his skin. Hange pressed closer, and Levi turned to nudge a kiss to their hairline.

The sound a stool scraping the floor turned Levi’s attention to Moblit. Levi shot him a look that was probably a little more murderous than intended, but fought to relax his frown at Moblit’s wide-eyed expression. Moblit scratched a little awkwardly at the back of his neck.

“Would you--ah, would you like a drink of anything?”

“Tea,” Hange mumbled. “He likes tea. There’s early grey in the cupboard, I think.”

Moblit nodded, and turned quickly into the kitchen. Hange adjusted their grip on Levi’s hand, until they were palm to palm, fingers slotted loosely together. Levi could feel them taking long, measured breaths.

“I’m really sorry,” they said again. Levi half wanted to tell them to stop apologising, but—well, until he knew for certain what they were apologising for, he couldn't be sure if they really needed to say it. “I know I’ve been a little...distant, lately. I’m sorry. I kept—I wanted to get back to you, I promise I did. I wanted to talk to you more than anything, but everything is just—God, Levi. Everything is going wrong.”

Levi gave a quiet, questioning hum. He knew Hange; there was no need for him to prompt them. If Hange had something to say, they would say it whether he probed or not. He waited, and eventually, Hange let out a distressed little sound and turned their face fully into his neck.

“Everything’s...so much harder than I thought it would be. There’s so much work to do, all the time. I’m struggling to meet all the deadlines. I keep failing my tests. I’m so tired, Levi. I just want a break, but there’s no time.”

Levi unthreaded his fingers from theirs and looped his arm around their back instead. He ran his fingers lightly up and down Hange’s spine, settled his face into their hair.

This side of Hange wasn’t wholly new to him. He had seen Hange upset and overwhelmed a handful of times before, but it hurt all the same—and more still, when he considered the fact that Hange had been feeling like this for who knows how long, without him even being aware.

“You can tell me shit like this,” he said. Hange flinched a little.

“I know,” they said quietly. “I know I can. But I...you’re so far away. And I knew you’d want to help, if I told you, but travelling this far isn’t—I couldn’t ask that of you. I didn’t want you to worry.”

Levi knocked his knuckles gently to Hange’s head. “Stupid. Look how that turned out.”

Hange let out a wet laugh. “Yeah, it kinda backfired, huh? Or did it? Maybe it was a ploy to get you to come out here all along.”

Hange sounded tired. Drained. The joke was weak and hollow without the right injection of humour, but Hange, it seemed, didn’t even have the energy to pretend to sound amused. Levi gave a scoff of a laugh anyway.

“Congratulations,” he said, deadpan. “You got me.”

The conversation fell flat. He was so used to having Hange talk his ear off that the quiet between them felt awkward, stifling. Hange only breathed, long, measured breaths, while Levi held them loosely against him. Moblit pottered around in the kitchen. While Levi felt mostly certain that things between them, at least, were okay, he was still curious about Moblit’s presence—but it felt like the wrong time to ask.

As if they could read his mind, though, Hange said, “Moblit’s been helping me study for the catch-up exams.”

“Oh?”

Hange hummed. “He’s good. I think I’ll give him an aneurysm one day, though.”

“That makes two of us.”

“Oi,” Hange grumbled, digging their fingers weakly into his sides. Moblit chose that moment to come into the sitting room juggling three cups of tea. He looked a little apologetic as he handed one over to Levi, who took it with a mumbled thanks.

“I’ve been telling Hange they should speak to you,” he said. Hange made a quiet, affronted noise, lifting their head and sitting up straight to take the tea Moblit offered them. “I thought it might help if they had someone to actually talk to. I can help out with the academic stuff, but the rest…” he trailed away, and Levi caught his gaze flitting to Hange’s thin frame, then back up to Levi’s face.

“Moblit, you’re a whole traitor,” Hange said.

In unison, Levi and Moblit rolled their eyes. Hange had settled their weight against Levi’s side again, feet tucked up on the sofa next to them, and was busy glaring at Moblit over their steaming tea cup. Levi laid his hand on Hange’s knee and gave it a small squeeze.

“I like him,” Levi said. “He’s got good ideas. You should listen to him more, Hange.”

Moblit looked pleased with himself, though there was nothing smug about it. He seemed like the kind, earnest type—pair that with his intellect, and Levi wasn’t surprised at all that Hange seemed fond of him. He felt a pang of jealousy at the thought, then considered their positions; Hange was nestled into his side, had cried on his shoulder, and was holding his hand. It was petty, but Levi took some small delight in it all the same.

Hange poked out their tongue at Moblit, who wasted no time in telling them he knew he had been right. Hange struggled to find a compelling argument against him, and resorted instead to more petulant, childish gestures. Moblit looked perfectly used to the behaviour and retaliated little, only reiterated his stance and pointed out rather happily that Levi agreed with him.

The atmosphere felt warm, calm. Hange seemed, for the moment at least, something close to content, with a soft smile that almost reached their eyes. Levi felt marginally more at ease than he had done prior to coming, though Hange's current state made him anxious—but at least he understood the problem, now. He could help in the coming days, and then continue to offer whatever support the distance would allow. He determined then that he wouldn't let Hange go silent on him, that they'd come to an agreement before he left, to ensure Hange would talk to him next time.

He listened as Moblit and Hange quietly bickered over their tea. Hange's usual energy was severely lacking, their tone less volatile. There was no indignant flush of colour to their cheeks and the shine in their eyes was dull, subdued. But they were no longer crying. No longer on the brink of breaking. Levi would take that, for now.

The three of them were startled suddenly by the loud crack and boom of fireworks outside. The sky lit up in vibrant colour, flashing and receding in tandem with each bang and pop and fizz that rent the air. For a moment, they all paused. Hange and Moblit turned to look out the window, while Levi—sappy, hopeless fool that he was, could only look at Hange. The light played across their pale face, glinting from their glasses, filling out the hollows of their cheeks and their sunken eyes until they looked almost whole again. Levi gave their hand a small squeeze. Hange's gaze remained glued to the sky, but they squeezed back just as hard.

Moblit was the first to speak, when the light show came to an end. He checked his watch, then looked up and smiled.

"Happy New Year."

Levi blinked. He had all but forgotten the day and the time, too wrapped up in his concern for Hange. He turned to look at them, and found Hange watching him already. Now, they had some colour—a light blush of pink on the apple of each cheek. Levi's heart stuttered in his chest. They'd been together for long enough, had years of sure kisses and even more stray ones, and yet, every damn time, the prospect of kissing Hange made his palms sweat, his chest tighten with giddy, childish excitement.

“Another year without breaking tradition,” Hange said, a little breathlessly. Levi felt gratified to know that Hange seemed just as affected as he did. “You made it right on time.”

Hange kissed him as softly as ever. Levi's hand braced on their narrow waist as he kissed them back. Hange melted against him, their lips rough and dry but pliant, opening easily to the gentle press of his tongue. It took a concentrated effort to remember himself, remember their company, to keep the kiss somewhat chaste; to stop himself nudging Hange to lay back on the sofa and cover their body with his own.

He pulled away reluctantly, entirely too pleased when Hange chased him a little way, stealing another quick kiss or two before leaning against the back of the sofa and looking at him. The flush on their face was more prominent, now. Levi quietly delighted in it.

Moblit sighed, almost wistfully, and gathered up their empty cups. Hange cooed quietly at him.

"Don't worry, Moblit," they said. "You'll get your turn soon. When does Nifa get back again?"

Moblit's face flamed. Levi had never seen someone colour so quickly, bright red from his neck to his hairline.

He stormed through to the kitchen, and choked out, "Next week, I think. And it's not like that, Hange."

"Not yet," Hange corrected. "We'll get you there."

Hange let out a great yawn. The little light of life in them, the small pleasure of teasing, snuffed out as they sat up straighter, spine crunching in several places as they did.

"We should get back to work," they said. They sounded dull again—Levi could hear the strain of stress in their tone. Moblit looked a little torn. Levi shook his head.

"It can wait," Levi said. "I've had a long, shitty day, and you," he pinched the skin of their cheek, tugging a little, "need sleep. You look like shit."

Hange's face twisted. Levi could see the anxiety building in them, churning. He cut them off before they could say anything more. "A few hours, four-eyes. You're not gonna remember shit when you're tired anyway."

"Levi's right, Hange," Moblit interjected. He looked tired, too. Levi felt a pang of sympathy for him—how many hours of sleep had he sacrificed trying to help Hange desperately prepare?

Levi tugged on their hand, pulling them in closer as he sunk back, reclining a little on the sofa.

"I'm tired," he said plainly. And then, embarrassed by the heat already flooding his cheeks, he added, "I've missed you. Just a few hours."

Levi was never blatantly vocal about his feelings. He considered himself very lucky that Hange knew him well, and could understand the intent behind his rude remarks. Right now, though, he felt desperate. And his honesty paid off.

Hange scrutinised him for a short moment, then said, "okay. But only a few hours."

"Deal."

"Just a nap."

"Fine."

Hange adjusted to tuck themself against his chest. They drew their knees up and curled into his side, dragging a throw from the back of the sofa and adjusting it to drape over them both. Moblit settled himself quietly on the other sofa.

Levi drew absent patterns over Hange's back with his fingertips. His touch bumped over their spine, bones even more pronounced with their back curled the way it was. How long had it been since they ate a proper meal? How regularly did they ingest something more substantial than a protein bar? He knew Hange was prone to fits of forgetfulness when they became too fixated on one task or another, easily bypassing meal times and leaving it too long between showers, but hunger always won out in the end. Hange had always been a little on the skinny side, but this, now; it scared him. They looked, and felt, unhealthy.

He dropped a harsh kiss to the top of their head. He wanted to say so many things, felt full with the weight of it all—I'm worried about you, you're scaring me, please look after yourself, I love you. Instead, he kissed them again, roughly, nuzzling his face into their hair, and hoped somehow they would understand.

Tomorrow, Levi will drag them for a shower. He will make them a good breakfast. He will make sure they drink water, and take small breaks during their studies, even just five minutes to breathe and regroup. Tomorrow, he will stand by as a silent support. He will let Moblit guide Hange through their studies, help where Levi cannot, and then, if things get too much, if Hange needs something to ground themself again, Levi will be right there.

Tomorrow.

But for now, Levi will make sure they rest.

#levihan #snk #my writing #angst

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themadauthorshatter · 3 years

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I've been planning on doing these, but never got around to it because of the 'how' aspect.

Now I got it

This will be more fanfic-y than the other rewrites, too, so bear with me

PG-13 NINJAGO PILOT: EPISODE 1!!!

Like before we start with a shot of Four Weapons and hear metal on metal as Kai works at a sword, which we cut to and zoom in on.

Every now and again, though, Kai looks at the entrance with a worried look before returning to the forge, continuing to work on the sword.

We get him looking back and forth between the shop entrance and sword before he quickly finishes up and just sits, staring at the shop entrance, which gives us a good hint towards his separation anxiety.

Nya walks into frame and tries to stifle a sympathetic smile as she practically lets herself in, groceries in hand.

She asks how long she was gone and Kai, trying to joke away his nerves, says she's been gone for an hour and a half, rather than the whole hour, like she said. Nya counters that she WAS gone for the hour, and not a minute longer. Kai disagrees, because he counted on the exact minute, and asks what took her.

Nya offers an apologetic smile and shows Kai a surprise she got for him while running her errands: a couple steamed buns with red bean paste inside, just the way Kai likes.

Kai's quick to accept the apology, but also asks where and how she got the pastries, because they're expensive for the two of them, and Nya simply shrugs and says it was on the house because a customer cancelled an order, though a montage shows us the audience that Nya actually got them via a favor for the owner, i.e. fixing a few broken lights and the ovens.

Kai takes the offer, though he's still a little suspicious, and Nya goes to put the groceries away, though she does compliment Kai on his work with the sword, saying he did well on getting a good bwvel on it and keeping it straight. Kai thanks her and admits it's not bad for a 25 minute sword.

Nya, from her place in their makeshift house connected to the shop, yells to Kai to be more patient and take his time, so he can produce a better blade, almost as good as their father.

Kai yells back that he doesn't want to be better than their father, he's going to be better.

Nya walks back out and takes Kai's free hand, saying he is better because of all that he does, and their father would be proud of him for it.

That's when someone walks in, an old man in a robe, straw hat and with a long white beard, and says he should be proud, because the craftsmanship on the helmets, armor, and swords is incredible for someone so young; Kai is 16 and Nya is 14.

The two freeze and watch as the man continues to look around, Kai asking Nya who this geezer is. Nya shrugs and says she caught a glimpse of him before he asked her about the shops, namely shops selling weapons.

Kai, not really sure of this, offers to sell a few things to the man, seeing as he's interested. The man only examines some helmets and clucks his tongue, because the heavy, clunky armor in the shop is better for samurai, and there's nothing here for a ninja.

Kai chuckles and apologizes because there aren't really any ninja in Four Weapons, at least not in a long time.

The man turns his attention to Kai and sort of studies him, noting the light smoke that's on his face, the callouses on his hands, and a few scars(less than Lloyd, just saying that now), and then some red bean paste on his mouth.

Uncomfortable, Kai backs up and explains as politely as he can that he and his sister run a shop, not a museum, so he should either buy something or go somewhere else, please and thank you.

The man nods and both apologizes and thanks the siblings for their time, even if it had been possibly wasted.

The two watch him go and, once he's out of ear shot, Kai wonders what that was all about. Nya is equally confused, but doesn't elaborate on it, because they've got a shop to run. Kai agrees and hands Nya a bit of the bread from the bun she got him; she's not a fan of the paste.

In the distance, on top pf a building a figure in black watches the siblings work, Kai making another sword as Nya deals with a difficult customer. We get Kai seeing this figure, what looks like a thin male in black, and stares back at him

Guess he can't say he's never seen a ninja anymore.

Kai looks over at Nya, making sure she's okay, before looking back to find the ninja has vanished

Cut to the old man from before as he walks over to and takes a seat by a large rock, asking if there's any trouble coming their way, seeing as dawn's approaching.

TV perspective, the camera would pan up to reveal the ninja crouched on the rock as he watcges the horizon. At the sight of clouds and the rumbling in the ground, he nods.

The man sighs and wonders if the saying is true, if there really is no rest for the wicked? The ninja's shoulders drop, but he perks back up at the sight of a falcon flying over head.

Just as he goes to follow it, the man says very much like a warning, "Stay."

The ninja returns to his perch on the rock and sulks, because he's dramatic and bored.

Good thing he saw those clouds because they roll in as night falls.

Kai notices and watches carefully, Nya joining his side and asking what's up.

Neither know until skeleton automobiles race over the hill, carrying the skeleton army, and Samukai, who stands on the tallest of the vehicles and commands his army to attack, and tells his two top soldiers, Ktuncha and Nuckal, to head to the blacksmith shop and find the map.

The villagers, who are mostly farmers, flee and take cover and/or shelter. Kai, however, arms himself and yells for Nya to stay in the shop as he races out, seeing a few villagers get jumped by skeletons.

Wu and Zane, I'll just call them by their names now because WE know who they are, also leap into action, though Zane is told to protect the people while Wu goes for the skeletons.

Zane does just that, inadvertently joining Kai in fighting skeletons, though Kai doesn't notice as he fends off a mod of bone heads.

Kai gets swarmed by skeletons, and gets his ass handed to him, but still manages to get a few hits in, thank goodness. He does well enough, but snaps out of his battle rush when he sees Kruncha and Nuckal racing to the shop. ("No. NYA!")

Just as Kai goes to run back to the shop, but is struck by a skeleton and knocked back as Kruncha and Nuckal go inside the shop.

Inside the shop, Nya goes to grab a weapon, but hides when she sees Kruncha and Nuckal walk in and start rummaging for the map.

She does start to go for a staff, but is stopped by Zane, who carefully holds a hand on her mouth. Zane gestures for her to keep quiet and stay as hidden as possible as he sneaks up on the two skeletons.

Like the original, they argue, but this time, Kruncha spots Nya and starts approaching her, because she might know where the map is, only for Zane to hand stand, on hand kip up, jackhammer kick him in the jaw and knock him back and almost out.

Nuckal steps up and the two fight in the cramped shop, Nuckal grabbing random things to attack or throw at Zane and Zane blocking or catching them and them putting them down somewhere so nothing's broken(there's always so much destruction in fights and it really bothers me, tbh, ngl.). Eventually, Nuckal gives up and they go hand to hand.

As they do, Nya shrinks toward a staff as Kruncha comes to and grabs the hammer Kai was using, Nuckal blocking Zane's hits and trying to make room for Kruncha.

Nya stops that with some strikes of her own that save Zane.

As grateful as he is, Zane pushes Nya towards the exit and points outside, where she sees Kai struggling to hold off some bastard skellies.

She nods and we follow her as she sprints outside in time to save Kai and help him fight.

Kai shouts at her to go back inside, but Nya calls him crazy and won't let him steal all the fun.

The two approached by sickle-nunchuck wielding skeletons and they race toward them, which transitions/cuts to Zane as he pulls his signature move, or what will be if this was the first post I made😅, and drop kicks Nuckal before Kruncha grabs the back if his hood and knocks his head against the charcoal forge and punches him in the face and knees him in the stomach.

Nuckal gets back up and notices the forge is still going a little bit, poking at it as Zane and Kruncha keep going.

He stops when he kicks Kruncha back and is grabbed by the wrist by Nuckal, who pulls him down and smashes his arm into the burning charcoals.

He hisses, but seems to otherwise ignore the pain as he tries to kick them away. Kruncha solves that with a hand on Zane's neck.

Both demand to know where the map is hidden, but Zane glares at them, remaining silent even when Nuckal grabs the hammer and brings it down on Zane's upper arm.

It hurts, but Zane was sneaky and grabbed a shuriken from his pocket and jams it into Nuckal's side, making him stumble back as Kruncha smashes him against the forge by his collar, loosening it enough to reveal Zane's chest and a folded piece of paper.

Back with Kai and Nya as they're more successful, but still getting worn down; that's just fine because their nimbers are dwindling as well(hmmmmm?). Nya looks around in the fray of skeletons and wonders where he is. Kai snaps that he's right behind her, because they're back to back, and Nya reiterates that she didn't mean Kai, she meant the other guy, who is quite literally thrown at them as one more skeleton approaches, one with four arms and bored of watching: Samukai.

Kai charges in, shouting at Zane to keep Nya safe, and the two clash, Samukai blocking with two of his four hands as Kai swings his sword and lands a few good kicks on him.

Samukai, glad to know Kai's not holding back, decides to return the sentiment and reaveals all four of his arms.

Zane leads Nya toward the shop, but that flips around when Nya helps him there instead and goes to tend to his wounds. Zane stops her and shakes his head before getting back up and looking for a high up place to look for Kruncha and Nuckal. Nya sees this and asks what's going on and why thise boneheads are looking for a map, and Zane freezes before he shrugs, leading Nya to an empty barrel, helping her inside and putting a makeshift lid on it so she's hidden before he runs out to rejoin the fight.

Good thing because Samukai disarms Kai and holds up by his wrists with two of his four arms, one of his free hands holding a knife, and Kai bloodied and beaten from this whole fight.

"Pesky little brat. You're just like your father."

Before Samukai can carve Kai to ribbons, Zane sweeps his legs as Wu steals Zane's move and performs a dropkick of his own, but adds some spinjitsu for added distance and actually lands it and stands back up rather than just yeeting himself and falling down.

"Sensei Wu. You look a little too rusty to fight

Zane, triggered, goes to fight with Wu, but Wu holds him back; "Some blades need a stone to be sharp. I only need bone."

The two go at it, but Zane rushes in to help, because he's caring like that, and Kai follows suit.

Zane goes for a long distance approach and throws shurikens at Samukai, which slow him down enough for Wu to manage, while Kai goes in with a rock, because he lost his sword.

Samukai, fed up, kicks Wu back, grabs and lifts Kai by the neck, steals his rock, throws it at Zane, and he's hit on the head, and then throws Kai at a water tower, Kai hitting his back and going unconscious.

Zane sees this and races toward him, especially as the tower falls.

Unconscious and in his armor, Kai's heavy as hell and hard to carry, so Zane tries to wake him up as the tower starts falling.

He does, but isn't 'there' enough to register he's about to die, muttering, "Oh, no," as the tower falls.

Thank goodness Wu saves them both.

Samukai returns to the Skeletons as they start to roll out, but stops when he sees Nya race out and toward Kai, screaming his name.

TV perspective, we get slow motion shots of Kai and Nya reaching out for each other as the skeletons fire a claw/hand at Nya. Just as they're about to grab each other's hands, it grabs her and rips her away from Kai, who's relief shatters into pure terror.

The skeletons drive off, Nya screaming and fighting off the Skeletons as they restrain her, and Kai races after her with Zane behind him.

"NYA! LET HER GO! NYAA!"

The skeletons only race ahead and open a portal, leaving through it as Nya reaches and cries out for Kai.

In a flash of light, they're all gone, Zane stopping, but Kai continuing to run and ahout for Nya until he stops at where the tire marks end.

Seeing them, he drops to his knees, guilt, sorrow, and many more feelings washing over him.

Wu and Zane catch up to him, Wu apologizing to Kai for his loss.

Kai only charges at Wu, who simply steps aside as Zane grabs Kai, rolls to his back, and throws Kai to the ground, flat on his back.

Wu barks, "Enough," and tells Zane to check around them, so they're not in dager and so Kai and Wu can talk alone, and without worry of Zane killing Kai.

Kai demands to know what all of that was, why the skeletons attacked, why they took Nya, why they were living skeletons, why they took Nya, what they wanted, why they took Nya, where the hell they went, and WHY THEY TOOK NYA.

Wu tells Kai to calm himself, but Kai snaps that he can't calm down,and he won't until he gets Nya back, so Wu had better start talking or Kai will make him. Wu sends him to the ground for this, taking his wrist and arm and twisting it so Kai rolls back down on his back,it doesn't hurt him as much as the throw Zane did, don't worry.

To keep him down, Wu holds his staff down on Kai's chest and asks if he's ready to listen, because his sister's as good as gone otherwise.

Kai nods, and Wu gets to explaining:

The Skull Boys were Samukai and his undead army, who work for the real Dark Lord in the Underworld, which us where they went with Nya. Kai can try following as much a he wants, but have fun getting there without a 'gatekey;' something that's powerful enough to open the 'door' the Underworld and let you get in undetected. Either that, or die and hope for the best, which is probably the last thing Kai wants.

Kai, calmer, looks over at a bored Zane, who's blowing in some reeds, and turns back to Wu, asking why he and the ninja were there.

Wu removes the staff and holds out his hand. "You."

Kai accepts and asks why, and Wu plays a total dick move and says he'll explain more, if Kai comes with them. If he does, he'll know everything and become strong enough to save his sister and will never have to worry about lising her again. Hell, he can be strong enough to turn Samukai into bone broth, if he wants, but only if he comes with.

Kai's floored by the offer, but asks, "What if Nya come back and I'm not here? What if-"

Wu holds Kai's hands, settling him as much as he can. "They won't be coming back. They already have what they came for. We will get the map back, and your sister."

Kai falls silent and Wu backs off, saying that this is a hard decision, which he understands, so Kai has until sunrise to make up his mind. Wu will be waiting for him at the village entrance.

They part ways and Wu orders Zane to run ahead to the monastery, to make sure the road is easy to trek back.

He hestitately nods and does so, Wu taking a seat by the village entrance and meditating, calm as can be.

Kai, however, is still reeling from Wu's words. Nya's gone, the shop is a disaster, and Kai is alone. He wants to get her back, but that damn separation anxiety kicks in and he starts to panic.

Wu seems to know a lot, so the best bet qould be to leave with him, and possibly miss Nya returnjng to the shop. Kai groans as he sits qith his back against the wall and cries as he rubs his eyes. He should've kept a better eye on Nya so this didn't happen. He sighs and drops his hands, looking around and evaluating his options: stay and possibly never see Nya again or leave and possibly save Nya. Kai fights a sob as he rests his head against his knees.

Cut to sunrise and Wu still meditating. TV perspective, we hear footsteps approach off screen and Wu looks up to see Kai standing before him, eyes red rimmed, armor gone, a katana or other sword on his back, and a bag of clothes, food, and supplies on his back. (Guess he made up his mind.)

Wu half jokes that he won't bs asking if Kai's ready, but Kai has none of it and tells Wu to lead the way.

Wu stands and says they have a long walk a head of them, and that gives Wu enough time to answer all of Kai's questions.

The episode ends with Wu and Kai walking out of Four Weapons, Kai looking back at the only hime he's known before taking a breath and catching up to and following Wu, the camera panning up to the horizon and the path ahead of them.

#ninjago #ninjago rewrite #ninjago kai #ninjago zane #ninjago nya #slight violence #au #ua

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literallykenmaandshoyo · 3 years

Text

Work Can Wait |i.m|

Pairing: ProHero!Deku x Female!Reader

Summary: Deku tends to take too much work in all at once and thinks that he has to finish it all that night or else he’s a failure. However, thanks to his lovely s/o, he manages to finally put his mind at ease and get some much needed rest while s/o lays in his (beefy and beautiful) arms. :,)

Warnings: No warnings, just fluff :) Deku works too hard so reader has to keep him in line.

A/N: First post! Yay! I really hope you deku simps enjoy this one (Considering as I’m one myself 0.0) and feel free to request anything!

~mod Shoyo <3

Being in a relationship with Izuku was by far the best decision Y/N had made on her own. He respected her and adored her almost as much as she did him. She liked to joke that the cosmos aligned for them the moment they caught feelings for each other. It was always her saying something about them being soulmates and Izuku thought it was adorable.

That being said, Y/N could read Deku like a book. She figured out what all of his small mannerisms meant and what he was trying to tell her with the facial expression he was making. Obviously, he could do the same to her, but for some reason Y/N found herself reading him more than he read her. Tonight was one of those nights.

Y/N was in the living room browsing through Netflix for a new anime to watch, huffing when she looked down at her phone to see what time it was. Normally Deku was on the couch with her by now helping her decide on what to watch, even though nine times out of ten he wanted to watch All Might videos. She craned her neck to look behind her and immediately noticed that the light in his office was still on. He was still working even though he told her he would be done in five minutes. Which was forty minutes ago.

“Damn it Izuku,” Y/N huffed, standing to her feet to head towards his room.

The closer she got to the room, the clearer the sound of his fingers typing away on his keyboard became to her. She couldn’t help but press her ear up to the door for a better listen, hearing his silken sighs travel through the wood. She sighed and let his fingers play out a little longer before lightly tapping her knuckles against the door.

“Come in,”

She turned the doorknob to see her boyfriend sitting in a chair, lightly bobbing his head to the beat of a song she didn’t know at all while he worked. Y/N couldn’t help but smile at how adorable he looked. His headphones were hanging around his neck, grey sweatpants, and the oversized black t-shirt she’d bought him two days ago covering his body. She never knew why he wore such baggy clothing when he had such a great figure, but she always figured that he just loved the style and how comfy it was.

“Izu-baby, I thought you said you were done for the night,” Y/N nagged lightly. “I’ve been waiting for you in the living room this whole time,”

Midoriya looked up at her with the most innocent look she’d ever seen in her life. Not even with all of the small children she’s encountered had she ever seen something so child-like and light-hearted. She now understood why some parents had trouble saying no to their children. If they looked like he did right now, Y/N would most likely raise the most spoiled child in the entire world.

“I-I know baby, and I’m sorry, but I finally got the reports from the police back and I thought I could just finish it up and add it into my files!” he pleaded.

Y/N sighed and turned to look at his screen. Her eyes got lost in the jumble of words on the screen and she found herself having some trouble with making any sense of what the hell he had been typing. Although everything looked neat and organized, she couldn’t help but notice how panicked and rushed everything seemed to feel as she read through his summary. He may have an unhealthy obsession with making perfection, but she couldn’t help but appreciate his work ethic. He loved his job more than anyone, and who was she to blame him?

“You know, despite leaving me high and dry out there, you’re good at what you do,” Y/N giggled, her orbs getting lost into his emerald ones. “Really, really good.”

He smiled widely, his eyes crinkling up. He fell back in his chair, slouching with a sigh as he looked up at the ceiling.

“I was afraid you’d have yelled at me by now,” He admitted earnestly.

“Oh believe me, I have some words that I’d like to share with you. But I understand that you’re incredibly busy,” Y/N giggled.

He sat up straighter in his chair and grabbed her cheeks in his palms, his scarred fingers touching her as if she was fine china. He brought her closer to his face and pressed his lips against hers gently. He smiled against her skin and pulled away, pulling her into his lap. Y/N knew what he was doing.

“Izuku Midoriya,” She stated firmly. “You’ve worked on this long enough, it’s time to take a break. You’re going to hurt your eyes because you’re looking at the screen for too long,”

She caught him. He chuckled and shook his head, wondering how she managed to catch him in his little acts every single time. He was, in fact, trying to get her to watch him do his job so he could keep working and keep her company at the same time.

She turned around so she was face to face with him, her arms wrapping around his neck loosely. Her eyes met his and she could see the milky way in his orbs. She smiled and pressed her forehead against his.

“You have time honey,” She whispered, shutting her eyelids. “You don’t have to finish it all tonight,”

He looked at her shut eyelids, getting lost in her eyelashes. She was right. With quarantine in effect, he practically had all the time in the world. He’d begged for more time nearly every day before the pandemic hit, but now that he’d received it, he was finding it hard to progressively work through something day by day. It needed to get finished the night he thought of it or he’d lose his mind.

“But can I just finish this last summary?” He pleaded, hoping that she’d give in and grant him just a little more time.

“You aren’t on a schedule Deku,” She stated. “Paper work can wait until tomorrow, this gorgeous report can wait until tomorrow,”

Deku sighed and rubbed his face with the palms of his hands, large doe eyes turning to look at his computer screen then back at his girlfriend. He gave an apologetic look her way and stood up from his chair with her. He stretched out his limbs and let out an inhumane noise when the shivers ran down his spine. Y/N giggled. She yelped when his large hands gripped the undersides of her thighs, hoisting her into his arms while her legs wrapped around his torso. He put his computer to sleep after saving his progress and turned off the light, shutting the door behind their figures as he headed to their bedroom.

“You don’t wanna watch a show tonight?” She queried as he placed her onto their plush comforters.

He threw his shirt off his head and crawled into bed, laying his head on his pillow and nearly knocking out right there. She took his silence as a no and snuggled next to him, lifting his arm to place herself under it, her head on his chest. She could hear his heartbeat and a feeling of sleepiness washed over her body in waves.

“What would I do without you?” Izuku smiled tiredly. “I’m glad I have you to keep me in check when I go a little too far,”

Y/N giggled and pressed her lips against his cheek sweetly.

“Yeah well, if I don’t do it, no one will,”

#mha #deku x reader #izuku midoriya #midoriya x reader #izuku x reader #bnha #anime #anime x reader #bakugo #todoroki #fanfiction #kirishima #iida #justin briner #my hero #boku no hero academia #deku fanart #deku fanfiction

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kinkyacademia · 4 years

Note

Could I request a scenario or even headcanons (whichever is easier) with Overhaul of how he would be with fem s/o and she just so happens to have a erasure-like quirk.... (I’m sorry it’s so vague I can elaborate if necessary) thank you so much!

So the thing is it is 3:30AM and my dog is alseep next to me, hands not working, I want to write sex.Okay I ended up rewriting and finishing the request, but the fact that my intro was so dumb still makes me laugh XD

-Mod Pasta🍜🍝

💊You had met Overhaul when he was just starting the Shie Hassaikai, you being fresh out of a mediocre Hero Course and still struggling to find your place in the world.You were always told that hero life suited you, but that it would be hard to find work because of your quirk. Why did it have to be hard? Why were everyone’s compliments so backhanded? You wanted to do good, but it felt like the government didn’t care.

💊He pulled you out of that mess and depression, telling you that you were incredible, your quirk was a blessing, wrapping his arm around you without flinching. Without flinching. One of the first things he said to you was, “You’re clean, you may have a quirk, but it’s clean.”

💊That was about a year ago. Overhaul sometimes asked for you assistance with Eri’s “temper tantrums,” Or to teach certain members a lesson, or just to make himself feel temporarily clean. The more skin-to-skin contact he had with you, the better his mood would get that day. There were many parts to his business that you opposed, especially the use of Eri, but you didn’t want to be useless and deny him your service. This wasn’t the easy route you had to remind yourself. You were helping.

💊More contact meant less clothes, and despite his adverseness to germs, the closest he could get to you was sex. He was infatuated with you, and for the first time in his life, he opened his being to someone. It was all on his own terms, of course, but you were more than happy to oblige. You were helping a man achieve his dreams after all, and what was more desirable that a driven person?

💊You had to admit that Kurono throwing you at Chisaki like a happy pill was a bit annoying, but you also felt important. You were this important to one person, especially a very important man - this was what you wanted. You wanted to help others, and this did the job just fine despite the obvious drawbacks. Overhaul made it very clear that you could return to the hero world whenever you wanted, but reminded you of what would happen: You would be shunned for leaving for so long, you would never find work, you would fall into a pit of despair and never be recognized.

💊Technically you only needed to touch someone once to cancel their quirk for a couple minutes, but Overhaul obviously enjoyed your continued use.

On one particular bad day, you were drinking tea in the backyard when you heard footsteps approaching, blocking the sun from reaching you and casting a shadow, “Yes?”

“You’re needed (L/N),” It was short and sweet, but you knew what Kurono meant. His voice was strained, and you pushed yourself up slowly, giving him an apologetic smile.

“Is he okay?”

“Not exactly,” He nodded to the back door, and you felt a prick of annoyance at his rushed tone, but proceeded inside nonetheless. You went down a staircase, down a few winding stone halls, then found Kendo Rappa standing outside of Overhaul’s room, arms crossed in front of him as he pouted, glaring at you. You looked away, hoping he wouldn’t confront you.

As you passed him, reaching for the doorknob, he spoke up with a crackly tone, indicating how his conversation with the masked man went, “You’re going in? He’s pretty pissed,” he chuckled, reaching for your hand.

“That’s okay,” You giggled, waving him off, “Thank you though.”

“I warned yah,” He shrugged, looking up and down the hall before leaving you, throwing one last sentence over his shoulder, “We should fight!”

“Right,” You muttered, rolling your eyes. It was like his departing phrase: fight me, give me a battle, see you next round, etc. You pushed his warnings out of your head, taking a deep breath before opening knocking with one hand and pushing the door open, “It’s me.”

“Close the door,” Just as you were got inside, you were ordered around. You had to swallowed your pride and not state that that was exactly what you were going to do. Usually he praised the ground you walked on, but Kurono and Rappa were right: this was a particularly bad day, likely because of Rappa.

You sat in front of him while he looked over a set of papers, “Did Chronostasis send you?” He hummed, turning a page. You nodded.

“Yeah,” Your eyes traveled to a few books that had fallen from his shelves. The fact that they weren’t picked up made your nerves stand on end. The clean-freak himself wasn’t cleaning.

You got up to clean the books up, and he didn’t stop you. Once everything looked orderly, you turned to him, approaching him now from behind his desk, “I guess today was hard?”

“Correct,” He mumbled, getting to the last page, “I would rather my subordinates do what I ask of them without question, but some need motivation,” He clicked his tongue, rubbing his fingers over the paper delicately. It looked like he was trying not to crinkle it, but his anger caused the edge of the paper to turn in. He stared at it for a second, then slowly placed the paper on top of the stack, shaking his head with a groan of disappointment.

You smiled, gingerly placing a hand on his shoulder to provide the much-needed relief he craved, “They’ve fought before, but last time their reasons were jaded. You provide a clear goal: Maybe that’s what’s important to them,” You gave him an experimental squeeze. He didn’t respond, his eyes closed as he thought. A moment passed, and you began to feel an awkward silence brewing. Suddenly he pushed his chair back, reaching up to grab your wrist and pull you down to eye level.

“I’m their boss. You,” His eyes travelled to your chest, then back up, causing your cheeks to flare, “You’re too perfect to give trash like them excuses.”

“Oh,” You whispered, heart pounding. Your surroundings became sharp and in better focus as adrenaline surged through your veins, “Thank you.”

He let go of your hand, and you crouched in front of him awkwardly, awaiting his word. You found trouble thinking for yourself these days: it was just so easy to let Overhaul make the decisions. He pulled his gloves off, putting them in his jacket pocket before removing the coat and placing it on the back of his chair. You knew what was coming, and it excited you to no end.

“You should be ready,” He started working on his mask, and you eyed the awkward man before reaching under your skirt and hooking a finger around your shorts and panties. You stepped out of them, looking around. You ended up placing them on the ground next to his seat, turning back to him. He was staring at your chest, and you instinctively went to cover your breasts.

“Over-”

“Leave the skirt,” He continued to stare with hungry eyes, “I enjoy all of you, (F/N),” He raised a hand up to form the come here sign. You obliged, and he reached a hand out to your legs. You too the cue to climb onto his seat, straddling him and sitting on his knees, “You’re a pure form of human.”

“I think you underestimate your own worth, you’re just as amazing as me,” Your hand came up to his neck, resting against it as your quirk took hold once again. His mask was on the desk now, but a black one underneath had taken its place. You rarely got to kiss him, but he seemed to enjoy the contact of the kiss rather than the emotions behind it. He was better at expressing those through speech and touch.

“We’re powerful together,” He settled that, “But that’s not important now… Tell me about your day,” You chuckled- he was quite monotonous when it came to casual talk. His bare hands went to your shirt, pulling it off of you. He wasn’t one to hold back - the moment your shirt was off, he went to your bra. Skilled with his hands, it dropped immediately and they went to your breasts.

“It was-” You had to pause when he took your shirt off, “Good! I went and made lunch for Eri. She’s so big now,” You hummed with content, then was cut off by his roaming fingers, “You’re cold,” You whispered with a laugh. He stopped for a second, then nodded slowly.

“You’re warm,” He stroked your breasts downward, his fingers reaching your skirt. His eyes flickered up to your own, “You know I enjoy watching you.”“Yeah,” Excitement bubbled within you as you looked down at his lap. Your boyfriend could even be labelled as nice after sex, having been as intimate as possible with the girl who gave him the relief of being “clean.”

He started to seem impatient, leaning closed to you. Your stomach did flips, and you reached for his belt buckle, undoing it and pulling it off. You placed it on the ground, then undid the button and zipper to his pants, pulling them down a bit. All that was left was his boxers, and this was where the leader-type man would usually take the reigns. You were given them for today, however, and you had some feeling of pride in it

You pulled the hem down, enough for his semi-erection to spring loose. You gently gripped it in your hand, enjoying the veins and texture. The rest of his body had a smooth, flawless feeling, likely due to using his quirk on himself. He hadn’t done the same to his member, and the contrast was a strange, but interesting aspect of the man. His breath caught for a second, and your eyes flickered to his own. They seemed expectant. You gave an experimental pump, and he took a short, sharp breath. You felt your own core aching - you had never been with someone other than Overhaul. The Hero Course strictly forbid fraternizing, and everyone was too good two shoes to try anything serious. Overhaul’s style, the way he ordered you, the way he pleased you - it was all you knew, and you knew you liked it a lot. He always left you satisfied, if not yearning for another round.

You raised your hand to your mouth, licking it before going back down to lubricate him. You bit your bottom lip, seeing he was fully erect and ready. Your heavy-lidded eyes met his own, and his hands made their way under your thighs, lifting you up slightly, “I’m growing impatient.”

“Sorry,” You chuckled, pushing yourself up on the arms of his chair and scooting forward. You reached down and position himself at your wet entrance, already remembering the intoxicating pleasure. Overhaul was a scientist after all, and he took data in so he could improve results. Sex never got old with him. You slowly sat, and your sigh of pleasure mixed with his sigh of relief.

“You’re just… perfect, you know?” You smiled, taking a few seconds to adjust to how deep he already was inside of you. His hands returned to your ass under the skirt, his hands still cold against you.

“I am clean, never perfect,” He shook his head, and you pushed yourself up a bit, then sat back down on his member. You gasped at the deep feeling, rolling your hips forward to relish it. You could see his jaw clenched and you reached up to rub it.

“You’re perfect for me, I never want anyone else,” Your hero side showed a bit, and you raised yourself up again, starting to find a rhythm. You weren’t used to riding, but you learned quickly. You were finding out what felt deeper and oh god what made your head spin.

“I feel the same to you,” He squeezed your ass, and you yelped, then laughed, a small sigh of content escaping your lips. You were starting to like pleasing yourself on him, and you knew he liked being inside of you, so it was a win-win. As you used his shoulders to support your bouncing, you got a surprise when his hips instinctively bucked up into you. He swallowed hard, and you realized he was holding back for your own sake.

“Ah… Fuck…” You moaned, rolling your hips into his own. His hands shifted to wrap around your waist, using his small thrusts to get even deep than your bouncing. With the joint effort, both of you felt pleased. Even Overhaul was groaning, his teeth grit. Your head fell next to his own on the side of the chair, your breathing heavy. You knew you were close, and he was as well.

“Overhaul!” You both were startled by a loud shout from behind his door. You pulled back to look at him with dazed confusion, and when there was a bang on the door, he leaned over and grabbed your shirt off the ground. You pulled it on, but the moment you did, a very angry Rappa entered the room. Your blood ran cold - Overhaul was still inside of you!

Overhaul was much better at handling the situation than you. He whispered for you to grab your phone and just play on it until this was over. After a lengthy conversation about the politics of the Yakuza and where Rappa stood, he finally calmed down. You had to use all your might not to react, looking away from Rappa and hiding yourself in the crook of Overhaul’s neck, looking at your phone mindlessly.

Rappa finally left, slamming the door as he did so. Once he was gone, you both waited a moment before you pulled back with a laugh, placing your phone on his desk and then turning to him, “That was close, good thing I kept my skirt-” When you saw how intense his eyes were, you had to do a double take. He’d really been holding back all of those emotions this whole time?

His hands slid under your ass, and he suddenly stood up, taking a step forward to place you across his desk, “It certainly was (F/N).”

“D-Do we get t-to finish?” You tried to play dumb, but your heart was racing, face flushed as his hands slid to your thighs. He grabbed them and pulled back, then snapped his hips forward. You were yet again at his mercy.

“Wait, I thought I was-” You began to whine, then was interrupted by another snap of his hips. A small gasp escaped your lips.

“I still own over you,” He reminded you, “I own over your perfect existence,” He immediately started at a fast pace, already riled up from being edged before. You had to grab the edge of the desk, back arching. You choked back a cry of surprise and pleasure.

“Ah-yes!” You exclaimed, legs wrapping around his back and keeping him close. You were both still aroused and stimulated from before, so you felt your orgasm coming quicker than expected.

“You’re perfect in every way,” He was barely panting, while your breathing was hot and heavy. You whined, gasped, and moaned, pitiful at best against his expertise when it came to your body. Each of his thrusts hit you in a pleasurable place, and you couldn’t hold back for long. Riding him was nothing like this - he was the master of pleasuring you.

“Fuck…” You quickly reached your climax, and once you did, you cried out and pulled him close to you, toes curling and muscles taught. He stayed buried inside of you, then once you were finished, you felt his own orgasm fill you with warmth. His level of control over his own body still surprised you.

After calming down and him pulling out of you, he set to cleaning up the mess with wipes and his quirk. You got your clothes back on, making sure he was better now. His mood was vastly improved, “Should I stay?”

“You may if you would like to,” He shrugged, wiping his chair down. You happily did so, sitting on his chair once he had moved onto the desk. He gave you a temporary glare, and you just giggled childishly. He rolled his eyes.

“I’ve got to say, that was a pretty silly situation.”

“It was,” He agreed, but you still wanted a laugh from him. You dramatically pouted.

“Aw, but you never laugh! Everybody laughs,” You whined, kicking your legs out.

“I’m not everyone,” He commented, then glanced at you once again, “I laugh. I laughed last night at dinner.”

“Chuckled,” You pointed at him, and he nodded slowly.

“That’s laughing,” He paused for a second, then nodded to himself as if to confirm his own belief. This left you laughing as well: he was just so odd.

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imagineclaireandjamie · 6 years

Text

Fast Forward.

I hope this appeases @internallydeceased MWAH - Mod MBD.

I will find a link to all parts and post them with the request as soon as I get chance to search them all out, thank you lovelies for your patience.

The knocks came intermittently, but Claire didn’t move to open the door. Twenty-four hours later and Jenny had given up trying to get Claire to come out of the room, leaving her to her own devices.

Jamie hadn’t come up at all.

Claire saw it as a sign. Had he felt any warm feelings towards her he would have certainly followed Jenny up to check that she was alright -surely.

Pulling her robe aside, Claire sat with her back to the mirror. Her cheeks were pinked, her nose still red from crying but she’d ceased her endless sobbing, at least for the moment. Looking at her spine she traced the angry red welts as the snaked down and under the furry material of her dressing gown with her eyes.

Foolish, that’s what she had been. Jamie and Jenny had been her constants in a confusing and new world. Claire had let those small moments that she’d had with Jamie build in her mind but looking at her healing injuries now she could see what she hadn’t before.

How could anybody love her like this?

Running her fingers over the tops of her shoulders, Claire felt the ruptures, over the scabs that were now just thin and twisty but deeply gouged into her flesh. She was forever scarred. Although she knew that it didn’t mean a whole lot in this time, where she was from it was the mark of a criminal. She’d already seen a couple of responses, peoples reactions as they stared in horror and then walked away.

Admittedly, there hadn’t been many opportunities for her to have her top low enough for members of the public to see, but on occasion her shirt would slip as she was at work in Ray’s shop and customers would catch a glimpse of the scars.

“Claire,” Jenny whispered through the door once more, her heart in her mouth as she tried for the last time to get Claire to come out. The door had been locked for nearly two days and though she had access to water, she must be starving by now. “Are ye going to come to tea? It’s my last night as a Fraser, it would only be you and I…?”

“No, thank you Jenny,” Claire replied, biting her lip and closing her eyes as she tried to quell the anguish that was filling her once more. She did not want to start crying again, not after it had taken her so long to stop the first time. But the request had tugged at her heart strings and she felt terrible that she couldn’t quite bring herself to leave.

“But ye have to come to the wedding lass?” Jenny questioned, unsure anymore as to whether she actually would or not.

Hiding her head in her knees as she turned herself fully away from the mirror now, Claire shook as she tried to answer Jenny. At this moment in time she didn’t want to see anyone at all. But how could she not attend? Not when Jenny had pulled out all the stops to have an extra meal added at such short notice.

“Just not today, Jenny, please…” she begged waiting until the footsteps had disappeared before darting from the dressing table and crawling back into bed again. The duvet still smelled faintly of her last long sleep, the stench of her own body clinging to the fibres but Claire couldn’t bring herself to care too much. She hadn’t bathed since she’d locked herself in the guest suite but then again, she hadn’t needed to.

Dozing on and off, Claire lost another day to her increasing melancholia and by the time the morning of the wedding came around, she had built her internal walls so high that not even Jenny could coax her from the bedroom.

Having spent a good ten minutes with Fiona by her side, Jenny tried everything she could to get Claire to join them in their celebrations downstairs. Cursing her brother’s grand plans, Jenny gave in and went to call the only other person she knew who might have significant influence over Claire.

Ray stood with his forehead broached against the hardwood of the bedroom, he smiled a sad smile, his lips lifting only slightly as he knocked quietly. “Claire, ma cherie? Are you alright in there. Jenny says you haven’t eaten for two days. They’re all worried about you, lassie.”

He heard the door lock click and moved back a little so that she could open it for him. There had been no objections, no talking through the door at him. Claire had simply obeyed his request, her hunger imposed fatigue had taken control of her body and mind. Since Ray’s confession to Claire, she had felt this increasing bond with the man who’d somehow saved her life and his soft French lilt had broken down the barriers she’d carefully constructed around her.

Sneaking through the small gap, Ray entered the small suite and closed the door behind him. It took him a moment, but when he first caught a glimpse of a very bedraggled Claire the breath caught in his throat.

“Claire, lass,’ he choked out the shock settling in his bones as he reached a shaky hand forwards, “you must cease this now, come out and have a decent meal, yes?”

Biting the inside of her cheek to stop the tears forming, Claire swallowed back the bile that had begun to rise along her throat. “Is it always this hard?” She whispered, her hands fiddling nervously with the hem of her oversized jumper.

“Is what hard?” Raymond questioned, his eyebrows drawing together in confusion. He knew all of the story having heard it from a very apologetic Jenny only an hour or so before but he hadn’t wanted to make assumptions without hearing from Claire first. Jumping in his car and whizzing over to Lallybroch, he’d suspended any thoughts on the matter and having seen her in such a state, he hadn’t thought about it since.

“This,” she said, her left hand resting softly over her heart as she spoke, “...love.”

--- --- ---

Snaking her way through the crush of bodies, Claire snuck into the elaborate reception hall, along the wall and into the throng of people gathered around the buffet. Raymond had sat patiently and listened to her side of the story before hustling her into the bathroom to clean herself up. Now, suitably dressed and scrubbed, Claire tried her best to blend in with the wedding guests. She had missed the entire ceremony and the lunchtime meal, but Ray had made it incredibly clear; she couldn’t spend her time hiding away from either Jenny or Jamie. The longer she left it, the harder it would be - and he had been right, of course. But now she was here, trussed up in the evening gown Jenny had lent her for the occasion, Claire couldn’t help but feel even more out of place.

“Ye shouldna push your way into a queue, you know, Claire,” Jamie whispered, his warm breath fanning over the exposed expanse of her neck as she froze in place.

Claire had been so panicked, her thoughts blurred as she’d tried to stealthily enter and join in with the wedding party as sneakily as possible that she hadn’t noticed Jamie’s eyes upon her. Instead of avoiding him, he’d clocked her the moment she’d arrived and had made sure to be out of sight until she’d let her guard down enough for him to get close.

Claire’s heart was beating a forceful thrum in her chest as she glanced over her shoulder, her face a nice vibrant red as she looked up at him from under her lashes. “S-sorry,” she stuttered, her mouth going completely dry as words failed her. She felt like a blithering idiot as she stood in his shadow, the music blasting around them as the party continued unawares.

“Will ye dance with me, Claire?” Jamie asked, his tone hopeful as he rested his hand lightly on her elbow, hoping to guide her decision with a brief touch.

“I don’t think I can…” she returned. Fear gripped her as she recalled dances she’d been invited to in the past.

“Och,” he said, “you can. It’s all in the leading. I promise I willna steer ye wrong.”

Nodding, Claire turned, letting her arm slide towards her him, allowing Jamie to take her hand in his and tug her gently towards the partially empty dance floor. The music changed as they were moving, sliding effortlessly from a more jaunty rock and roll tune into something more delicate. Claire blinked slowly as Jamie took her in his arms, pulling her body flush with his as they moved with refined ease in a small circle.

“Did you truly cook for me, Claire?” He asked when he had her safely cocooned against his chest. He felt her fingers tighten around his but she made no move to run away. Guided by his movements, she swayed, his bicep neatly holding the majority of her weight as her ribs vibrated with the intensity of her heartbeat.

Claire didn’t want to think about her failed romantic meal and she hid her head, trying desperately to avoid the loaded question.

“Tell me, aye?” He said, his voice a mere whisper in her ear as they danced on the spot now.

Claire nodded, her mouth too dry to even consider answering out loud...again.

Her ears pricked at the sound of his reply, but it had been quiet and in Gaelic. She couldn’t pick up enough of the words to understand what he’d said, but the word ‘gràdh’ made her chest burn with desire. The wounds on her back forgotten, his endearment sent a pulse of desire shooting through her and she (unconsciously) rolled her hips against him as she panted out an uneven breath.

“Claire,” he sighed, the subtle keen in his tone drawing her head upwards as she squeezed her eyes shut before opening them fully. Looking at him properly for the first time in days, Claire saw the desolation that lay behind his sea-blue irises. She could see the bags around his eyes and the slight blurred redness that now marred his otherwise perfect stare.

She gasped lowly under her breath as she swallowed. Maybe it had been exacerbated in her imagination, but it didn’t seem as if he’d had much rest in the last few days either; mental or physical.

“Yes,” she answered a beat later, her lips barely moving as she tilted her chin further upwards.

Jamie leaned his head to one side, his eyes half closing as he drank in every inch of her.

“May I kiss you, please?” He asked politely.

“Oh,” she returned, pleasantly surprised at his genteel approach.

“Because I think that I’m falling for you and I dinna wish to wonder what ye taste like any longer. Please, Claire, kiss me,” he said, moisture gathering on his lower lip as he spoke.

“You...like me?” Claire replied, shocked. After all, she hadn’t suspected he had feelings in return.

“Aye, Claire,” he said, “I believe I do. And maybe it’s more than like, but I canna ken for sure until…”

“Yes,” Claire broke in, her whole body aching to meet passionately with his, “yes, you can kiss me, Jamie,” she finished, her hands trembling now with some force as his grip intensified.

Now he really was keeping her upright.

Not wanting to waste another moment, Jamie licked his lips languorously, his tongue peeking out for just a second as he dipped his head as Claire tilted hers towards him.

The feel of his stubble against her chin was electrifying. That was her first thought as Jamie’s lips pressed delicately against her own. The second was that he tasted like whisky and a fine summer's harvest. Grass scents lingered on her tongue as Jamie slid his gently into her open mouth. It was divine. Soft and damp, warm and fresh, soft yet punishing as the feelings she’d been beginning to experience before crashed over her like surf on a sandy beach. Claire felt as if she might drown as their kiss seemed to go on forever. She couldn’t even recall whether she’d taken a breath since they’d begun - but nor could she bring herself to care.

Slowly but surely, Jamie pulled away, his hand (his fingers partially buried in her hair whilst his palm rested perfectly along her jawline) twitched as he forced himself to end their embrace.

“Christ, yer beautiful,” he murmured almost to himself. The ringing in his ears intensified as he pulled himself out of the trance she’d imposed upon him with her ethereal beauty.

“...you don’t care about my back, about my past?” She said, worry gurgling in her gut as she spoke.

“About yer back?” He said. “No, of course not. Had I kent yer feelings for me, Claire, I wouldna have lingered in town that night, trust me.”

“You would have come?”

“Ach, aye.” Jamie chuckled, extinguishing the anguish that had overcome Claire in the days following her failed date. “I wouldna have missed it for the world, mo nighean donn.”

#;Mod MBD #Fast Forward #jamie x claire #18th C Claire #20th C Jamie

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theshimmeringisles · 6 years

Note

I'm curious about Titus Burntfeather and his campaigns against the Kuros. Was that conflict part of the current war? Or was it a separate event? Were Infernacus and co. the Guardians at the time? Did Burdohk and Anthrenna rule Kurosia while Titus waged his war? Or is all of this spoilers? :3

MOD: This wouldn’t be spoilers as this is actually pre-blog by a good 900+years so it’d be a good opportunity to do a bit of world building!

By the time of The Fall, Titus Burntfeather is well over 900 years old. Titus is a military genius and is directly responsible for a LOT of different bloodlines and older groups of Chroma thinking that Chroma should only ever breed with one another. Early in his life he discovered that his mother, who had passed away, was a Wind Chroma, something that his sire was deeply ashamed of due to being an Elemental Purist. This isn’t so much of a thing anymore in Chroma society as of/around The Fall because mixes can sometimes yield more powerful and useful elemental powers, if they aren’t born without a Core.

Titus’s reasons for joining the military are virtually unknown, due to the fact that most of the soldiers he trained with during the early days are either dead or too old to remember. Titus is rare in that despite being considered ancient by Chroma standards, especially ones that have such an active front line military career, Titus is still very spry and has an incredible memory for his age. But if one spent long enough around Titus, they’d know the answer is this: greed.

Titus is a greedy bastard who wants power, knowledge and secrets. He also wants to have a legacy among the Chroma that will never die out. And he doesn’t just want those things among the Chroma; he wants all of these things from every sentient species. Titus thinks for some reason that he is owed all of this, and that because he is so renowned and celebrated, isn’t apologetic when it comes to his methods.

Titus has been going after the Kuros since before Athrenna was Queen, but hadn’t joined the military until after Burdohk was King. He’d set his sights on Burdohk the moment he began gaining intel on him, deciding that if he took that giant down, his name would live on infamously for generations to come. Titus was unlike his fellow generals in that he wouldn’t stop at just the soldiers. He purposefully kept and tortured multiple prisoners from the Kuros in order to learn the locations of their families, the villages they came from, and how to get to them without being caught. Titus would then use this information to slaughter them in the hundreds, from the most seasoned elder to the eggs tucked safely away in the rookeries.

He was rutheless, but had a very high success rate, and the Guardians would look the other way when it was argued (loudly, by Titus) that he was saving countless Chroma lives and villages. Titus’s other goal with the Chroma was to discover the origins of the Metal dragons, suspecting (correctly) that their power with metal smithing came from the Kuros. This would eventually lead to his capture....

Which he planned.

Titus knew that he had a hefty bounty on his head, and that many soldiers and War Generals wanted his hide to decorate their walls. He refused all of them that honor when he offered a trade off once imprisoned: he would relinquish information in exchange for information, but only if it came from the King and Queen themselves.

Two of Burdohk’s highest ranking guards (Ciar and Ifreann Cred’vel) accompanied the King when he came to visit their coveted prisoner. Burdohk listened to Titus’s questions, had them written down by a scribe, and asked his own. Titus answered them, one by one, until he was through, and Burdohk promptly spat in his face. Their own spies knew the information that Titus would reveal, and that he would feed them false information. Burdohk refused to tell Titus anything, infuriating him, and left with his guards.

But not before Ifreann caught Titus’s attention. The old Fire Chroma noticed the begrudging respect she wore in her expression, and hatched his next plan.

If he could not take Burdohk down with his own claws, he would leave the King exposed, without one of his precious Arrows. He took the larger of the siblings, wooing her when she was sent to deliver him food and water, being the only Kuros that Burdohk trusted with such a task. Ifreann saw in Titus what many had already seen: that great darkness festered in his heart, and that this was why it was so hard for them to sink their claws into the beast. Ifreann’s ultimate intentions were unknown, but it was Ifreann who helped break Titus out on the evening before his execution was scheduled....

With her belly swollen with Titus’s egg.

Titus returned and was forced by Infernacus, who had become the Fire Guardian during his imprisonment, to retire. Despite insisting that he’d gotten captured in order to gain information and perhaps save more lives, suspicion had begun to spread through the Chroma that perhaps Titus was being swayed to their enemy’s side. This was all but confirmed when, a few season later, he returned from one of his many outings outside of Warfang City walls with a Kuros hybrid child with him. Not completely disgraced, but certainly something of an outlier and former war hero, Titus became incredibly withdrawn, and disappeared a month or two before Kurosia’s Fall. Rumors spread that this was because Titus had returned to Kurosia to help them, but others knew that Burdohk’s last Arrow had finally found her mark....

#Titus Burntfeather #Chroma History #Chroma Lore #if any of this conflicts with old lore that's bc it's outdated #but most of it should be accurate still #Anonymous

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matsumayhem · 6 years

Note

Karamatsu X Female!reader fanfic. Female!reader confesses her feelings to Kara (If you want to make it NSFW go ahead ;3c)

Asdfghjnbvc i need more practice with these- forgive me anon if this wasn’t exactly what you were hoping (´°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥ω°̥̥̥̥̥̥̥̥｀)

P.S.: I always always always write in 3rd person with xReaders, 2nd person is not my strongest suit ;;7;;

neither is nfsw so forgive me

- Mod Rice

(y/n) tapped her fingers restlessly on the table top of the kotatsu, anxiety now the only emotion known to her. Every scenario played over and over again, nearly every single one ending horrendously. No, calm down, (y/n), she thought. You’ve planned this flawlessly, you’ve virtually nothing to worry about. Biting her lip, she wondered, do I truly?

Matsuyo-san slid the shoji that separated the room she sat in and entered, holding an oval porcelain plate filled with oranges. “Forgive me, (y/n)-chan! I wasn’t expecting him to take so long!” she confessed, her tone apologetic. “He’s job-hunting, as you already might know. Either he’s in an interview or gone drinking with the others.”

“You mustn’t apologize; I’m too early, I’m sorry for troubling you.” (y/n) responded, pressing her forehead against the tabletop in a vain attempt to bow. Matsuyo waved a hand and took a seat across from (y/n) in the kotatsu, setting the plate of oranges in the center of the table.

“You’re no trouble for me, truly. I enjoy having company…Matsuzou is hardly ever around now, and the sextuplets are all adults–even if most of them aren’t employed.” (y/n) stifled a laugh. Matsuyo hummed in thought. “Come to think of it, I think they all have women in their sights nowadays. At least it’s a valid reason to get a job. By God, it’s motivation. Makes me proud of them, for once.”

“Proud of them for not being NEETs, you mean?”

“Ohyoyoyo, of course! They’re the ones carrying on the name, aren’t they? They ought to give me something to be proud of!”

“I cannot argue with that,” (y/n) commented, peeling the skin of an orange. “Do you have a favorite?” Matsuyo stared at the ceiling, scratching her chin.

After a few moment of silence, she replied with, “Choromatsu is the only one who’s mostly making an effort. But, then again, I love them all equally.”

“Even if he is an otaku?”

“A mother does not have favorites!” They broke out into laughter when the screen doors from a few rooms back opened up.

“We’re home!” shouted 6–5?–voices, all of them filing into the house.

“I suppose I’ll take my leave now,” Matsuyo said. “Good luck with whatever it is you’re doing, (y/n)-chan.” She nodded a thank you, and watched as she exited the room…and proceeded to talk in hushed voices to one of the sextuplets. Soon after the shoji opened again, and (y/n) flinched accidentally. Her face brightened seeing him. Finally..!

“Darling, you should’ve said you were coming! I wouldn’t have gone out, then.” Karamatsu said, wistful. “Forgive me for leaving you alone for so long.”

“It’s fine,” she reassured, following him with her eyes to the other side of the kotatsu. “Your mother kept me company.”

“Looks like she did,” he said, cozying up under the futon, his feet barely touching hers. They both reached for an orange but recoiled halfway, laughing nervously. “You first,” he insisted.

“No, please; you first.” (y/n) persisted, averting her gaze and touching her cheek, now incredibly warm. …already? I disappoint myself.

“I insist; you’re the guest.” Karamatsu countered, politely. She breathed her thanks and reached for the fruit, Karamatsu following in pursuit. (y/n) focused her sight completely on the fruit, peeling its skin as cleanly as she could. Her heart subconsciously picked up a rapid pace, pounding in her chest and loud in her ears. (y/n)’s hands shook ridiculously and dropped the orange because of it. Cursing at herself, she tried oh so carefully to pick it up again without revealing her uncontrollable nerves. Tell him, damn you! Tell him now before you run away out of fright! Now or never!

Her thoughts screamed at her, strangling her mind and heart and her every action. Suppose he doesn’t return your feelings? Why does it matter? As if he liked you in the first place. All of this is purely out of pity. You telling him this won’t change anything. (y/n) slammed her fists onto the tabletop of the kotatsu, causing Karamatsu to flinch violently. “I-Is everything well?”

“…Karamatsu.” she said, hardly audible. (y/n) swallowed hard, clutching her fists and raising her head to face him fully. “I will absolutely go mad if you don’t hear this now.”

“W-What is it?” he stammered, “I hope it’s nothing serious.”

Hurry up, now. “I understand completely if you feel differently. But, Matsuno Karamatsu, to tell you the truth…” It was too much; (y/n) broke into tears. She buried her face in her arms, her forehead pressed against the table. Oh, God! I can’t do it! I look like an idiot!

“Huh?! Why are you crying all of a sudden?!” he cried out, so very confused and distressed. Don’t come over here don’t come over here don’t come over here-

Karamatsu practically flew to her side, trying his best to comfort (y/n) but his nerves were quite evident. Rubbing her back soothingly, he asked, “…what was this truth I had to know?” Hastily, he added, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, though! Don’t stress over something so insignificant.”

“This is incredibly significant, let me assure you, but I’m ashamed for having these thoughts,” she mourned, wiping her wet eyes with her sleeve.

“Whatever it is, I hope I can help you with it.”

“I doubt it, but thank you for trying.” (y/n) said, exhaling. “I don’t want you to see me any differently.”

“Are you a homosexual?” Karamatsu questioned, eyes wide with curiosity.

“What? God, no! It’s nothing like that!” she cried, lifting her head from the kotatsu. “It’s just that…I…mighthavefeelingsforyouandIdon’tknowwhattodoaboutit.”

“Huh?”

“I like you! A lot! And it scares me to think that you might resent or shun me if I had said anything!” she sniffed, slowly scooting away from Kara. They sat in silence for some time, and (y/n) was having second thoughts. She wondered what he thought, and longed to know his response.

“Wow, (y/n), I wasn’t expecting that,” Kara admitted, grinning a bit. “And to think I was worrying about the same thing.”

“What?”

“I like you a lot, too! But I wasn’t expecting you to return my thoughts. I mean, you actually have an occupation and live on your own. I can’t imagine why you’d want to mingle with a NEET.”

“Well, there’s more to you than meets the eye. I could care less about your NEET status, to be completely honest.” (y/n) replied, half-smiling. “You’re aware of it and you’re trying to change it, which is quite admirable, really.” While it seemed like his cheeks were on fire, Kara smiled brightly, a smile so pure and genuine (y/n) couldn’t help but grin herself.

“You really think that?” he asked. She nodded happily, which made him blast from his seat and onto his feet, triumphant–like he’d won BIG money at a horse race. Karamatsu took (y/n) in his arms, spinning rapidly like a top in the middle of the room. In his happiness, he pressed a tender kiss on her neck, making (y/n)’s spine shiver. “At least now I can brag about you.” he said, lowering her to let her feet touch the tatami mats but still kept her in his arms.

“About that… can you do me a favor?” she asked, a bit hesitant. (y/n) immediately added, “Y-You don’t have to!”

“No, please; what is it, darling?”

“Could you, maybe…” she stood on the very tips of her toes to whisper this to him, she was so embarrassed. Breathing hushed words into his ear, Karamatsu glanced at her, confused.

“In what aspect?”

“Nevermind–you’ll understand when the time comes. In the meantime…” she gestured to the shoji and the 5 shadows that stood behind it.

“Shut up, shitty eldest! I can’t hear a thing!”

“Chorofapski, you’re being the loudest!”

“THEY STOPPED TALKING, YOU IDIOTS! THEY CAN HEAR US!”

“Totty, now you’re the loudest!!”

“…oh shit, you’re right, they can hear us.”

“You have the mouth of a sailor, Osomatsu-niisan!”

“Piece of shit.”

#osomatsu san #osomatsu san imagine #karamatsu #karamatsu matsuno

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anonthenullifier · 7 years

Text

Growing Old

Note: HAPPY SCARLET VISION APPRECIATION DAY! Hope you enjoy!

Also on AO3 (http://archiveofourown.org/works/11045874)

Wanda studies his body as he gets ready for bed, fascinated at the way they can spend an entire day battling homicidal robots and yet, there he stands, calm and collected with no signs of their earlier struggles. He looks almost identical to the first time she saw him (minus the smoke and general confusion), the intricate lines of vibranium hugging his broad shoulders, catching the light so perfectly he could easily be the subject of a Renaissance painting, the pattern and flow of the metal lines coaxing her eyes down along his chest and abdomen, branching over his hips and then disappearing under his sweatpants. The little tease. “Vizh?”

He turns his face towards her, irises rotating clockwise and a slight, affection smile curving the edges of his lips upwards, “Wanda.”

“Do you,” it's a thought that’s been present for a long time, always a quiet, pestering inquiry in the back of her mind, but she’s never been certain if she wishes to know the answer, afraid of what the information would mean for them. Yet she can’t seem to let it go. With a sigh she finishes it, “age?”

The steady turn of his irises slows until they stop, his smirk descending into a thoughtful line as his fingertips come together to tap in time with the whirling of his thoughts. “It is complicated.” Which is Vision for I don’t want to answer this question.

“Try me.”

The swiftness of his bashful smile and dip of his head has not changed, always appearing whenever she catches him in an act of avoidance or when she makes a brazen acknowledgment of his appeal. Then the smile is erased, replaced with a slight furrow of his brow and a squaring of his shoulders that means he is about to enter his professorial mode.“Mentally, yes, I mature in similar ways to everyone else.” His fingers part, right hand waving through the air as he keeps talking. “My memories increase, emotions change, I even believe I am becoming more introverted, which scientifically is correlated with the natural process of aging.”

Wanda realizes that she knew this part of it without having ever really considered the changes. If she thinks back to the way his mind felt the first time she touched it in the cradle it was so new, so innocent, but throughout their many years together, minds almost always in tandem, his thoughts have transformed, grown more complicated, more perceptive, yet still calm and tightly organized. “And physically?”

His fingertips find each other again, nervously tapping in time with the syllables of his answer. “Physically,” his voice drops off, eyes uncertain as he stares to the side and then slowly shifts his attention back to her, “no. Dr. Cho believes my body could continue to function indefinitely in this form.”

“That’s what I suspected.” The coolness of her response is not intentional but she stands by it, attempting to control the niggling guilt in her stomach from growing into an apology, even with his wide-eyed, apologetic gaze.

Sighing is an action that took him time to utilize appropriately, the careful way he analyzed the various types, always asking her the intention behind her sighs for better understanding and categorization, was both irritating and endearing to experience. But it means the precise and defeated exhale from his lungs carries just enough force and vibration to convey how much he has been dreading this conversation. The mattress dips as he sits next to her, the firmness of his bicep along her upper back a stinging reminder of his eternal youth more than a comfort. “Wanda,” her name is whispered as if in prayer, a plea to understand, “why now?”

Wanda leans her head back against his shoulder, eyes locked on the swirling pattern in the finishing of the ceiling as she contemplates the impetus for raising the inquiry. “I found three gray hairs this morning."

“I see.” The tone is not as empathetic as she needs, annoyed at the subtle amusement in his elongation of the I. “It is a simple biological process. The catalase enzyme within your hair follicles functions in such a way to break down the buildup of hydrogen peroxide, maintaining the typical color of the hair. Graying simply means that those follicles have a deficit in catalase. It is not catastrophic.”

Typically the no-nonsense scientific lens with which he analyzes the world is comforting. Typically. “It means I'm getting old and you're not.” Wanda disentangles from his embrace, crossing her arms as she stares at him. “What happens when I'm a shriveled old lady and you're still, well,” she brings her arms out, waving them to emphasize the perfection of his synthetic body, “every sculptors’ wet dream.”

The nonchalance of his shrug is infuriating. “I do not see why anything would change.”

“Really?” Despite her withering stare he persists in acting like this is not an earth-shattering revelation. “What about when I start to always look like I've been in the bath for too long?”

“Wrinkles are of no concern to me. You are already developing lines near your eyes and mouth and it is not alarming in any way.”

Her hands fly to her face, poking at the corners of her eyes and trying to smooth out the creases she can feel near her mouth. Another glance at his unmarred face serves to remind her of their disconnect, her mind instantly coming up with every single instance she can think of when an aging wife is dropped for a twenty-something model. “One day Vizh, you're going to realize I'm too old for you. That it's time to trade me in for younger mod- ”

“Wanda,” his voice is stern, cutting off the increasingly dismal vision of their future, hands coming to grip her shoulders, eyes steady and serious. “that is preposterous.”

“Is it?”

Vision continues to stare at her, eyes switching between swirling to the left and then the right, a scowl of concentration weighing down his mouth. Three times in a row he parts his lips but then clamps them shut. Eventually he begins to speak, the millisecond too long pauses between the words an indication of how carefully he is choosing them. “I have always envied you.” Vision pauses, eyes boring into her in anticipation of a response but she remains silent, staring curiously at him. “By the very nature of my synthetic compound and the influence of the Mindstone I do not scar, will never wrinkle, will never develop the pangs of aging.” Wanda immediately wants to push back, point out how incredibly awesome that sounds, but holds her tongue at the growing sense of remorse coming from his mind at his inability to experience this aspect of humanity. “My body, unlike yours, lacks the ability to narrate the story of my life.”

“Vizh, that’s,” she’s not sure how to finish the sentence. Ridiculous? Not a big deal? Not true? None of the options seem appropriate to the hint of despair in his voice, the downturn of his eyes as he picks restlessly at lint clinging to the bed sheet. So she settles for just a simple, reassuring, “Vizh” and a hand to his shoulder. Which seems to be the ideal response, his mouth quirking up just enough to form a gentle, slightly nervous smile.

"For instance," suddenly he is gone, phasing through the mattress and then the floor, re-appearing at the end of the bed, taking a seat once more as he gingerly wraps his fingers around her bare ankle. A bloom of curiosity expands quickly through her mind, rushing down to kickstart her heart into a flutter as he traces his thumb along the faded scar hugging the curve of her ankle. “Recall when you tore the tendon here.”

“Yeah, that sucked,” and it did, she was half-awake on April Fools day, walking down the stairs near the living quarters when she ran into a wall of saran wrap, freaked out, and missed the last two steps. The sound of her tendon snapping echoes clearly in her mind as if it just happened. “Sam still owes me for that, I was out for eight weeks because of the surgery.”

An amused nod joins his response, “You were quite irate, understandably so.” Then her heart seems to stop functioning when he bends down, placing a soft, reverential kiss to the surgical scar, eyes not missing the tiny smirk on his lips when he pulls away. His fingers skim up along her calf, stopping at a pucker of pink marring her skin. “This occurred on our first joint mission,” his voice drops down and she can feel the memory stirring in his brain, latches onto it with a flick of her wrist and a strand of scarlet, “a stray bullet and your scream, the first quantifiable proof I could experience fear.” Another brush of his lips sends tremors up her spine, only intensifying as his fingers trail up to her knee, other hand guiding her right leg closer, the pads of his thumbs rubbing circles on the twin scars. “These I am unsure of the origin but you have worn them for as long as I have known you.”

Wanda closes her eyes in an attempt to quell the tears forming as she finds herself back in Sokovia when she was ten years old. “There were shards of glass under the bed, after the mortar. We didn't risk moving, even with the pain.”

Finally she opens her eyes to take in the sorrow on his face, the somber turn of his irises as his thumbs continue to trace the matching scars. “For Magnus,” a slow, solemn kiss to her left knee, “and Magda,” then one to her right. Vision moves on from her knees, hands rising up her thighs until he reaches the edge of her shorts. “May I?”

A disbelieving laugh mixes with her tears, hand pulling them from her cheeks as she nods her head. “Always the gentleman,” because he always asks, always seeks her consent and approval even when she’s fairly certain being married for this long is a pretty good sign she’s okay with it. The cotton of her shorts turn incorporeal, phasing away as the trailing caress of his fingers dances around the three inch scar on her left thigh. “Let’s not talk about that one.”

“Agreed,” and he seals away the pain with another, slightly longer press of his lips to her skin, the cool touch of air once he moves on leading to the development of goosebumps all over her body. Gently he nudges her torso with his hands, an unspoken request for her to lay down, which she complies with instantly. “This one,” Vision pushes her tank top up, bunching the fabric around her waist before hooking his finger into the top of her underwear and teasingly dipping the fabric down enough to reveal a half-inch raised line above her pelvic bone, “is one of my favorites.” The sly smile on his face when he glances up at her arrests all the air from her lungs, an almost silent, amused groan escaping with the air as she flops her head back against the pillows, savoring the languid strokes of his fingers over the scar. “French Polynesia.”

Their honeymoon was idyllic, minus the incessant calls from their teammates late at night and the unexpectedly sharp corners of the nightstand in their bungalow. “That was your fault, you know.”

A breathy, reminiscent chuckle blows against her skin before he rests his forehead against her hip, his embarrassment still as fresh today as it was back then. “In my defense,” the words lack conviction from the get-go, an explanation they both know is faulty but he continues, the movement of his lips into a smile grazing against her skin, “it was the first instance where you requested I attempt phasing while engaging in intercourse.” His hands grip her thighs while he presses a loving kiss against the scar sending a tremor of pleasure twisting through her body, so forceful it causes her toes and fingers to curl in delight. “I admit to a slight miscalculation.”

“You think?”

Vision breaks from his position, lifting himself just enough to crawl up along her body until their faces are even, allowing her to count the rotations of the gears in his eyes. “To be fair, I did have to explain to the rental agent the surprising amount of blood from your injury.”

The image of him from that day is crystal clear in her mind, words fumbling unconvincingly from his mouth as he told the black haired agent (whose face was wholly unamused) the lie Wanda had concocted about slipping on the freshly finished wood floor. Wanda can’t stop the elation engulfing her chest from developing into a dopey grin, “You were so nervous.” She reaches her arms out to pull him into an embrace, hungry to feel his cool lips against her own mouth, but her arms go straight through him with a “Hey!”

A surprisingly coquettish wink occurs in his left eye accompanying an equally flirtatious grin. “I am not done yet.” With that he phases away, the weight of his body re-emerging along her legs as he resumes his prior position at her hip. “My other favorites,” is blown away by the gust of air to her body as he phases her tank top off, a tantalizing chill that makes her long for the heat of his body against hers. Affectionately he runs his hands along the fading stretch marks branching on either side of her navel. “The miracle of life.”

Wanda scrunches her eyes closed, smirking at the tickle of his fingers up and down her stomach. “You’re so melodramatic.”

The only response to her claim is a burst of joy in his mind and two lingering, passionate kisses to her stomach before shifting his weight to study horizontal scar on her side. “Samhain the Druid”

“What an ass.” She shrugs at the incredulous raise of his brow, “What? We had just finished decorating the house and he ruined it.”

“And turned innocent children into his henchmen.”

Wanda rolls her eyes, shoving his face playfully away from her body, “Yes that was far worse, but still, I could never get the ashes out of that rug.”

An amused shake of his head and a quick peck to the scar ends the memory of that day as Vision turns his head up, meeting her gaze before transferring his weight to the side, face coming to rest against her chest. The pang of grief in his mind permeates deep within hers, tears forming anew in her eyes at the hidden scar he is examining. Tenderly he grips her sides, lowering his face to lay a worshipful, sobering kiss in the valley of her breasts, right over her heart. “Sokovia.” They lay in silence, allowing a moment of remembrance for Pietro. When he moves once more she can see the residue of tears on his own face and she lifts her hands to cup his cheeks. Wanda does not miss the fact that there is no joy in his eyes when he grips her wrist, turning his face to bring her palm firmly to his mouth. “Thanos."

"One of many.”

"Unfortunately." Any warmth left in the atmosphere is sucked from the room, his lips hovering just above her skin as he proceeds to her wrist, a whispered “Edinburgh,” ending with another deliberately gentle kiss. Vision proceeds to her shoulder, a minuscule smile breaking the solemn line of his mouth as he touches the nearly invisible cluster of pink dots mixing in with her freckles.

Wanda inhales deeply, struggling to control the waver in her voice, pushing past the unhappy memories to focus on better times. “That was also you.”

“I am aware,” finally a full smile parts his lips again, and she finds herself responding with one of her own. “It was my first and last attempt at deep frying food."

Wanda knows the next scar in his path, can feel the memories of electricity coursing through her body with each shock of the collar, but she has no desire to relive it right now, desperately wants to keep hold of the lightened mood of the latest twist in her story. So she says a plaintive, “Vizh,” fingers curling around the sides of his head, drawing his gaze away from her neck and up to her. “Come here.” And it works, the comfort of his weight spreading out as he lays over her, the intoxicating contrast of the cold patches of vibranium warring with the warmth of his skin against her own igniting a deep, insatiable desire within her soul.

Tenderly he runs a hand along her cheek, the movement latching an invisible string to her eyelids and drawing them closed as he leans down to whisper in her ear, “That was only a fraction of your life.”

Her body shivers at the wisp of hot air against her ear, knees reactively bending to cage him in, trapping him (quite willingly) against her. “I don't want you to read the whole thing in one sitting.” Wanda opens her eyes enough to peer at him, studying the adorable tilt to the right side of his mouth and the slow, steady turn of his irises as he waits for her next move. “You know," she sighs again, hands working in a lazy semi-circular pattern on his chest, "just because you’re adorable doesn't erase the fact I’m getting older.”

Instead of the annoyance she expected at reopening the issue there is a softening of the muscles in his face, his body relaxing against hers as he sweeps the stray hairs from her forehead. “It appears you have overlooked the underlying narrative of our relationship.”

“Oh?”

A brilliant and overwhelming flood of affection is passed from his mind to hers, his lips parting into a toothy grin as he leans his forehead against her own, the edges of the Mindstone pressing into her skin. “Love, you once told me, is for souls, not bodies, and my soul is eternally yours."

#scarlet vision appreciation day #scarlet vision #svad17 #svad #wanda x vision #vision x wanda #fluff #love is for souls not bodies #ao3

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