#but i am disgustingly bad at making friends and since i was very young i wished it wasn't like that online too

[arty-shadow-morningstar]

A Failed Betrothal (Part 3)

There were a lack of stuff to read so I posted this instead.

[Masterlist]

(Part 1)(Part 2)

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PART 3

The next day was weird to say the least for everyone but for Marinette, it was another can of worms that she wished she didn’t open. For one thing, Chat Noir’s feelings obsession for Ladybug switched from one black-haired girl to another which unfortunately was Ladybug’s civilian form. Which meant Marinette had to deal with Adrien’s Chat-Noir-level flirting and bad pick-up lines.

Perfect, just perfect.

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Everyone thought that a declaration speech of ‘being soulmates and the only one for him’ in front of the whole class from the ‘love of your life’ would warrant a ‘blushing to death and stammering’ or ‘outright fainting’. Not a facepalm, a groan, “Why me?” and a “I am sorry but NO. I don’t feel the same way about you”. Marinette vaguely wondered if there was some kind of rule for interesting events and confrontations to happen during lunch break while the class waits for Mme Bustier to start the lessons.

Marinette went to sit in her seat next to Chloe in the back row where she and her friends had been exiled to. The class was in stunned silence and questioning about whether or not they had fallen into an alternate universe or dreaming. Nathaniel and Alix tried to hide their snickers. Chloe just started outright laughing, turning very red in the face.

Marinette felt a nudge from Plagg in her bag. Looking down, she saw them holding up her phone to show Lila’s gaping face of horror with a wicked smug grin on their face. She looked through the photos to see everyone’s faces of confusion and shock at her rejection. Eyes wide and jaws dropped on the ground. Different shots of her classmates in the same state. She smirked and showed them to Chloe who calmed down enough, letting out the occasional giggles and took the phone with glee.

“Thank you, Plagg. Here you go.” she whispered, giving them a camembert macaron.(Tom had started experimenting with camembert in his recipes. Plagg is his first taste tester for all of them, making Tom one of Plagg’s favourite people.)

Adrien didn’t take the rejection very well.

“But we are meant to be. You are a designer and I am a model. Our partnership is the one to be envied by many for the ages.”

“And by that logic,” The designer turned to her main model for her MDC website, “Chloe, my love, will you be my one and only? For our love shines so bright ,paralleled only by a thousand suns.” Using the same voice Plagg does when they go on one of their love odes about camembert before losing her straight face and giggling.(Plagg doesn’t know whether to be offended or amused.)

Setting Chloe’s laughter off again. “Mariiiii,...stop….I can’t..*gasps*....I can’t…”

Nathaniel and Alix, finally lost control and joined Chloe in death by laughter. Adrien was flustered, turning red in the face either from anger, embarrassment or both.

“But Chloe isn’t a model.”

Marinette decided to put a stop to this, just on the off chance that Gabriel finally decides to akumatized his own son. She recomposed herself.

“She is the main model for my website and we have a partnership. You, however, work for your father. So does Miss Rossi. Does that sound like the partnership to be envied by many for the ages? Hmmm, Agreste? Anyways, like I said before, I have no interest in dating you.”

“Why not? We are friends and sometimes, friends like each other enough to date each other.” Adrien angrily asked.

“Because-”

“Because, Adrikins,” Chloe cuts in, “friends having to date because one of them is interested in something more makes no sense and is fucked-up. Marinette doesn’t owe you anything. Besides, she already has a long distance boyfriend who lives in America.”

“WHAT!?” Adrien shouted.

“What?!” The class had snapped out of their stupor. Since when had Marinette gotten over Adrien and had a boyfriend?

“What?” Marinette looked at Chloe with wide-eyes. Last she checked she was still single so what the hell was Chloe playing at. For Kwami’s sake, she hadn’t been on a date since the one with Luka which went awkwardly before they agreed that they think of each other as siblings and it will be best to stay that way.

Chloe gave her a look that said ‘I will explain later.’

“Oh yes, they met online a few months ago and now they are all lovey-dovey together. It’s just so ridiculous, so utterly ridiculous how disgustingly in love they are. They have video call dates at least once a week and somehow make it work despite the time differences. He once came all the way to Paris just to see her. He brought her some special flowers that apparently meant-”

Marinette slapped her hand over Chloe’s mouth. “Well, Chloe, Queenie, as much as I love you as my friend, you can stop gushing about my love life now. Because class is about to start.”

She said through gritted teeth as Mme Bustier finished taking her sweet time and walked in. Sadly, Alya wasn’t done with the conversation ,“Wait a minute, since when did Chloe and you become close enough that she is modeling for you? And a boyfriend? Why didn’t you tell me, Girl? I thought we were friends. What about Adrien, he just confessed to you and you had been crushing on him for so long” Many girls gasped, angry that Alya broke the unspoken girl code.

“You have a crush on me?” Adrien looked hopeful. Like a lost kitten that had been stuck in the rain, was let into someone’s home.

“I had a crush on you,” Marinette corrected him, emphasising on the past tense, “and Alya had no business of sharing that information to the entire world despite us not being friends anymore.” She glared at the journalist who at least looked ashamed.

“You wanted to date Kagami so I moved on.”

One of the reasons anyway. I found out that you were my partner who had no concept of boundaries. You are a coward who only wants to maintain the class peace at the price of my mental health, she thought.

“Instead of continuing to pursue you.” She hoped the ever dense and oblivious model would get the hint she gave him. Tikki ,just this once, Grant me that ladybug luck.

“And Mme Bustier, it is time to start the lessons, don’t you think? Instead of focusing on the class drama to gossip about later on.” Marinette glared at the teacher, reminding her to do her job.

“Oh. Right.” Mme Bustier tried to regain her ‘perfect teacher’ image after getting embarrassed at being caught, “Right. Class, turn to page-”

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As soon as the bell rang for the end of school, Marinette dragged Chloe all the way to her room. Alix and Nathaniel followed them because as far as they know, Marinette had no boyfriends and they were as curious to find out what scheme Chloe had cooked up this time. They were as complicated and crazy as Ladybug’s. No offense, Marinette.

“Okay, Queenie, you have to explain why I now have a devoted American boyfriend who I am so in love with.” Marinette crossed her arms with a frown aimed at Chloe. The kwamis got out of their respective hiding places and went to the tray of food set out for them.

The trapdoor to her room opened, revealing the rest of their friend group before Chloe said anything.

“Did we miss anything?” Kagami asked as Longg and Sass joined the other kwamis.

“Juleka said something about an American boyfriend and how he sounds so romantic. Does that have to do anything with the text Alix sent us to come here?” Luka added.

“To recap, Adrien made a love confession to Marinette,” Alix started, biting into some of the delicious pastries the Dupain-Chengs gave them, ”in front of the entire class after an entire day of flirting and bad pick-up lines.”

“Wow, even after having his memories erased of being Chat Noir, he is still after Ladybug.” Luka chuckled, with the others joining in.

Marinette whined, “It was easier when he was Chat Noir. But now as Adrien Agreste, teen heartthrob, it is going to be much more difficult to get into his thick head that I don’t see him that way and it is going to get harder, now that Alya outed my old crush to him.”

“Oof. Sucks to be you.”

“So, our Mari-bug rejected him. He threw a tantrum and sulked, so like Chat Noir, how did we not notice?,” Alix continued, “After demanding reasons why they can’t date, Chloe gave Marinette an American boyfriend who she was in a long-distance relationship with. Speaking of, why did you do that?”

“I have known Adrik- Adrien since we were in diapers and I know how that mangy cat works. He grew up on Disney and had all those fairytales stuffed into his head. If you had told him that you were just not interested in dating at the moment, it won’t work because he will try his hardest to ‘woo’ you, because he still has a chance. He won’t push his luck as much if you were off the market.” Chloe explained.

“I am sure that, judging by the fact that Chat Noir still tries to date Ladybug despite her saying she is in love with someone, Adrien might try to get more proof of this boyfriend to make sure Marinette is just not pretending to have one.” Kagami pointed out.

“Ahh, but luckily I have a back-up plan. I have a friend, Tim Drake. We met at a few galas when we were younger and kept in touch. He also owes me a favor.”

“I hope this Tim Drake is cute.”

“He is and he’s older than you by two years and,” Chloe typed something on her phone, “A fellow caffeine addict so you can bond over that. Here’s a picture of him and his brother.”

On her phone were two extremely attractive and fit young men dressed in expensive suits at what looked like a gala, the older one had a charming polite smile with bright blue eyes, looking somewhat interested at what someone off-screen was saying despite looking like he will fall over any moment. His brother, however, looked like he would rather be anywhere but where he was. He was tanned and had green eyes that promised murder for daring to even breathe in his direction. Marinette noticed that he looked a little familiar but she can’t place why.

“Tim is the one that looks like he hasn’t slept in days and that’s his brother Damian next to him.”

“Wait a minute. That’s Tim Drake and Damian Wayne. The sons of Bruce Wayne, the billionaire co-CEO of Wayne Industries, which Tim Drake is also co-CEO of.” Nathaniel said with wide eyes and looked at Chloe, “You are using your favor to give our Mari here a fake boyfriend.”

“Of course, only the best for our Mari-bug.”

“Chloe, no, he is probably busy as he is with running the company. No need to get him involved in petty teenage drama.” No matter how much she doesn’t want to date Adrien, bothering a busy guy to be her fake boyfriend is not worth it in Marinette’s opinion. Which, of course, gets overruled by the overprotectiveness of her friends.

“I, for one, think this is one of Chloe’s better plans.” Kagami commented, the others agreeing with her. Traitors.

“Hey!” Chloe exclaimed, an offended look on her face, “Anyways, I will call him later.”

“Children, you better go home now before your parents worry.” Sabine’s voice came from below, “Remember we are also going through some drills tonight so try not to be late.” Having a former assassin for a mother is handy when you want to train a team of teenage superheroes.

“Bye, guys. See you later.”

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“Just because you have been trained since birth does not excuse you from the drills. You also need to get used to the black cat.” Lady Mǔ lǎohǔ reprimanded her with her arms crossed. When Ladybug started her new team, she was the first permanent member but as the team got bigger, she stepped back to be back-up and mentor for the team.

“Yes, Maman, I know but I am nearly finished with this commission. I will catch up with you later. Promise.” Marinette stretched, looking up from her latest project. Plagg was napping in the little basket she had made for all the kwamis to sleep in which fit all of them and had some extra space for Nooroo and Dusuu after they had been retrieved.

The reason she had Plagg instead of Tikki who was with Alix was because of the new tactic the Miraculous Team came up with. To keep the balance the Ladybug and Black Cat must be active at the same time but with Adrien gone, someone must wield the ring until a new permanent holder is found and it was not a good idea for both of them to be on the same person at the same time. The team decided to rotate using the earrings and ring between them with Marinette using other miraculouses when the others have them. It also had the added bonus of making it harder for Hawkmoth to find out who has them at any given time.

“See you later, 灵儿 (líng er, means intelligence). I will give you 15 minutes but that’s it. Don’t be late.” Sabine sighed and got out the skylight and went towards the safehouse where the Miraculous team met to get training. (It is one of Sabine’s emergency safehouse to use in times of emergency and it had the required space to train 6 teenagers. Chat Noir never came to training, lazy cat.)

Marinette never made it to the warehouse.

Because a few minutes after her mother left, the skylight opened to let in five figures dressed in dark colours to easily blend into the shadows like they were trained to be. Too bad they weren’t as quiet. Marinette immediately summoned a bo-staff to defend herself.

One of them lunged at her and she retaliated by hitting the end of her staff to their middle, coupled with a couple more blows and landed one that knocked them out. The others threw throwing stars which she dodged by jumping back. Which landed her to be trapped by the two assassins, whom she didn’t notice, had moved. She cursed in every language she knew as she struggled against them. It led to no avail as she was badly out-numbered. There was a prick on her head and her world went black.

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Plagg awoke to a loud commotion. Irritated, they poked their head out to see their new temporary kit knocked out, tied up and hauled away. Recognizing the kidnappers as assassins of the League of Shadows, they scowled. Ra’s Al Ghul was going to pay.

Plagg may not act like it much but the black kwami was patient and smart. Smart enough to leave a note with an explanation somewhere visible with the messy aftermath of a fight before trailing the assassins. Oh, Roarr’s tiger was going to be pissed once she found out what happened. Wherever they were taking Marinette, it would be best to have a kwami of destruction to help her escape. The night made Plagg almost invisible and allowed to move unseen. They caught up easily and hid in their holder’s midnight hair. Now, their patience came into play. It was a matter of waiting for the right moment to pounce.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------Tag list: @alysrose-starchild, @buginetye, @lookatthestars1, @blackroserelina, @macncheesemonster, @mochinek0, @myazael, @tonicxworld, @thewitchwhowaited, @t1dwarrior-of-earth, @kissa-chan, @iwantasecretidentity, @theymakeupfairies, @user00000003, @woe-is-me0, @kashlyn, @mochegato,@moonlightstar64 , @greatcatblaze, @moongoddesskiana, @tazanna-blythe. @tonicxworld, @toodaloo-kangaroo, @frieddonutsweets, @local-witch-of-mn, @lady-bee-fechin, @iglowinggemma28, @indecisive-mess-named-me, @k-tea-and-coffee, @jayjayspixiepop

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(Part 4)

#damian x marinette #ml x dc #maribat #marinette x damian #daminette #betrothal au: take 2 #A failed betrothal #Adrien salt #some Alya salt #yes. i put fake dating in betrothal au #plagg is protective of his kittens #kidnapping

[bubblybubbubs]

Stuck With Me (3)

Summary - Draco’s POV on losing his soulmate

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Word Count - 3.5k

AN- I am so sorry this took so long, I hope you all enjoy it!

Part 1  2 

taglist - @lonely-kermit @lifeasdreamgirl @mera-shifts @abbyloubaton @clumsilyclueless @confusedscreaminggremlin @seanh-boredom @weasleysmalfoyxstyles @thefandomplace @mayempress @shadyrose66622 @jay-jay-love @ktvia @lovebynorth @sweet-creature98 @remmyswritings​ @chaoticgirl04

Sometimes Draco thought about how different his life would be had he not left you, had you not gotten hurt and lost your fucking memory.

It was truly ridiculous, the universe was actively conspiring against him, he was sure of it.

His current living situation just proved that further to him. “Wake the fuck up.” Blaise said slowly pouring water on his face even though Blaise himself was evidently groggy. “I will kill you.”

“Looking forward to it.”

Draco was unsure as to why Blaise had chosen to live in a crappy apartment when his family Manor was free. He missed his silk sheets and expensive pillows. Yet sadly the ministry had decided they wanted to take that leaving Draco on Blaise’s smelly consignment store couch. Had he gotten completely cut off by his family? Perhaps, it would make the disgustingly plain beans and toasts they ate daily make a lot more sense. He’d hate to think that Blaise fed them this by choice.

“Guess who wrote.” Blaise said, wiggling a letter in Draco’s face.

“Loud ginger?”

“Loud ginger.” He confirmed dropping it in on Draco’s face. “You should answer her before we get a howler, then we’ll really see how loud the ginger can get.” Draco looked at the letter, Ginny’s name was scrawled on the envelope and the aggressiveness of the signature made him heavily considering not opening it but the possibility of getting a howler from her convinced him otherwise.

Draco,

You are the worst and I hate you. I’m not sure if you care anymore given that you have refused to make contact with her but y/n is doing fine. I mean sure she’s been asking about her soulmate and lying to her is slowly killing me, but I’m glad you and Blaise are having fun in your bachelor pad and that you have successfully cleared your amnesiac soulmate out of your head.  

Looking forward to hearing your pathetic excuses,

Ginny Weasley.

It was way too fucking early for this.

-

Things were strange.

You had gotten most of your memories back but everything was very different than what you remembered, everyone was different after the war.

The Weasleys, oh the poor Weasleys, they were like your family but the life has been sucked out of them without Fred. They had all tried to hide it from you, they believed you were already going through enough and you didn’t need their problems too. Ginny especially, she hadn’t left your side since you woke up. You kind of felt bad for Harry because whenever he wanted to spend some one on one time with Ginny she always insisted you tagged along.

For example whatever the fuck this current situation was.

“I’m really sorry Harry.” You whispered to him. “I told her I’d be fine alone.”

At first it had sort of made sense how careful everyone had been around you, but at this point it was exhausting. You would walk into a room and it would just go silent. You lost your memory, not your basic communication skills.

“It’s fine, I understand Ginny can be quite persistent.”

“What about me.” Ginny said hooking her arms with the both of you.

“Just that I don’t think I should be going on your dates anymore, it’s kind-“

“Ginny.” Harry said interrupting you pointing towards a boy down the street. He was blonde and lanky, shifting his weight from foot to foot.

You had seen Ginny mad, in fact it was one of the first things to come back to you. Her calm fury was something that hadn’t remained constant since she was young and right now you saw it on her face as she stared daggers into the boy.

She scoffed. “I’ll be back.”

“This might take a while.” Harry said quietly, shaking his head. “Come on we can meet Ginny there.” You stole a glance across the street as Harry dragged you away. Ginny was yelling at the boy but he didn’t seem to care because he wasn’t looking at her he was looking at you. You felt your face heat up and you looked away from him following Harry. “Who was that, should I know him?”

Harry paused for a minute.

He had that face that people had whenever they were walking on eggshells around you.“He went to school with us but I don’t think you two were ever friends.” The way he didn’t look you in the eyes screamed to you that he was lying.Harry was always a horrible bloody liar.

-

It was really hard for Draco to process what Ginny was saying. Her anger had gone right to her face and Draco had been silently betting with himself as to how long it would take for her face to turn the same color as her hair. “Your face is really red.” Draco said, struggling to hold back his laughter. “Are you drunk.” Ginny said stoically.

Was he? It was likely, he honestly couldn't remember the morning or yesterday. The days were sort of blending together.

“Malfoy.” Ginny said. Usually when people used his name they were yelling at him or were angry at him. But Ginny said it with pity which somehow felt worse.

“I don’t get why you're doing this to yourself.” She said. “You’re miserable.” He deserved to be miserable.

“It’s for the best.”

“How’s that.”

Draco had no interest in divulging his feelings to weaslette of all people, but it seemed his judgement was slightly impaired by the alcohol he may or may not had been drinking. “I’m going to fucking Azakban Ginevra,I just dont see the point in telling her I’m her soulmate and possibly facing rejection just for me to be thrown in Azkaban for the rest of my life.” Draco huffed. “Even if she somehow forgave me, I doubt the dementors will be allowing conjugal visits.”

“There are no more dementors at Azkaban, Kingsley got rid of them.”

Now normally Draco was against hitting girls but he was considering it heavily. “Thank you Weasley. I feel way better, I’m sure Azkaban is a paradise now. Remind me to send Kingsley a thank you letter.”

“Draco.” Ginny said.

Gross, hearing Ginny say his first name with pity felt even worse.

“You’re not going to Azkaban, Harry agreed to speak at your trial.”

“Oh great he’ll testify to the one time I helped him, I’m sure it’ll cancel everything else out.” He said. “I’m not a good person Weasley, that’s why I know I’m going to Azkaban, because I deserve it.”

“Is that why you’re staying away from y/n?” Ginny said even angrier than before. “Is this some sort of self punishment.”

Draco stayed quiet.

“Merlin, Draco go to fucking therapy.” Ginny huffed. “You’re not the only one that’ll suffer because of your self pity. She needs her fucking soulmate back, as much as I hate you for everything you’ve put her through I can’t argue with the fucking universe and neither can you.”

“Exactly.”

“What?”

“I shouldn’t have fucking gotten involved with her in the first place, it’s only put her in danger.” He took a deep shaky breath. “And her losing her memory was the universe’s way of telling me to stay away.”

He had known for a long time that she was too good for him  

It was dark and he was tired, turns out making potter stinks badges and teaching all of Slytherin clever chants was demanding. Draco wasn't really paying attention to his surroundings as he walked back to his dorm until of course he heard quiet sobs. He was a firm believer that crying in public was pathetic, especially in a hallway where anyone could stumble across you. And he might’ve told them that had it not been you. He had been thinking about you, not that he would ever tell anyone that ever. But how could he not, you were his soulmate and that had to mean something.

He barely had time to think as his feet moved on their own bringing him in front of you.

“Why are you crying.”

Merlin, could he have been any less compassionate.

“Why do you care Malfoy.” You said.

He hated the way you looked pretty even if your eyes were all puffy and your face was all red.

“I don’t.”

He did. He even started to walk away for dramatic effect of course.

“I’m scared.” It felt weird to hear sincere words from you that weren't you yelling at him, and he hated the fact that he didn't hate it. “Harry has his first task tomorrow he could get hurt or worse.”

“I wouldn’t worry about that. Don’t tell him I told you this but he has to be some sort of invincible to defeat Voldemort at the age of 1. Don't you think?”He could hardly believe the words he was saying.

“I suppose you’re right.” You finished off.

Draco sat tensely, he wasn't exactly sure what to do. He couldn't hug you could he? No that would be seriously overstepping. You would probably punch him in the face, again. After all you had been the one who wanted to forget about the whole soulmate thing and of course you were a halfblood and a gryffindor on top of that. It would never work.

For once he hated being right.

-

You were actively weighing how likely it was for Ginny to kill you if you woke her up.

Very, is what you eventually came up with. Maybe you could play the amnesia card.

“What do you want y/n.” Ginny grogged from under her. “I’ve been listening to you shifting around for the last hour.”

You had been staying at the Weasley’s and you had absolutely refused to take Fred’s bed so that had resulted in a cramped hammock floating in Ginny’s room.

You turned around to face her with a sorry look on your face.

“Did I know that boy, the one you were yelling at.” You said. “I just feel like I knew him.”

Ginny was quiet the same way Harry was. “No.” She said turning away from you. “No you didn’t.”

“Ginny-”

“Y/n please don’t.” Ginny said, cutting you off. “It’s not for me to tell, if it was believe me you’d already know.”

“I want to go.”

“Go where.”

“To Hogwarts.”

It was embarrassing. Everyone had gone already; they had been able to at least attempt to cope with the trauma they had endured. And you who couldn't even remember the bloody war couldn't work up the nerves to go.

Ginny stared at you for a bit before muttering. “Hermione and Ron are going soon, they’ll likely let you join them.” You were about to make an argument about going on your own before Ginny turned back around nonverbally telling you that the conversation was over.

You still couldn’t sleep and not from lack of trying. Your mind was whirring, ever since you had seen Ginny yell at the boy your lack of memory seemed to be feeling different. And your fear was beginning to settle in, your doctor said that some memories may never come back and that thought made you sick to your stomach. You didn’t feel all that different, Ginny said you were the same whenever you asked. But she could be lying (since she seemed to be in the habit of doing so these days) and you would never know because you had amnesia.

-

Draco was regretting not taking his plea deal. He would much rather be sleeping in Azkaban than waking up on Blaise’s concerningly uncomfortable couch to an angry looking ginger towering over him. No one seemed to value his rest and it was getting ridiculous. He pressed his eyes closed and pull his blanket further over his face in hopes that maybe Ginevra would disappear. Sadly that was not the case and Ginny ripped the blanket off of him leaving Draco quite cold.

Ginny stared down at him as she stood impatiently at the foot of the couch.

“Blaise someone broke into your flat.”

“I noticed mate.” Blaise said who looked just as exhausted hunched over his coffee.

“We need to talk.”

“We talked remember, or were you drunk too?”

Ginny did not look amused and Draco almost felt bad for being so difficult but then he remembered he didn't care.

“Y/n’s going to Hogwarts with Ron and Hermione. She’s likely going to get her memories back.” Ginny said. “Thought you should know.”

Draco sat up. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Ginny said taking a deep breath. “You need to be there.”

“How so?”

“She’s going to remember all the shitty things you’ve done to her and are yet to apologize for and you’re going to lose your soulmate for good.”

“I don't see how me being there will change that.”

Ginny didn't answer him rather she walked towards his chimney. “You know what, screw you. I truly do not care if you go, I just thought you should have the choice that's all.”

Ginny didn't look at Draco, rather giving Blaise a short nod before using the floo to go back to the Burrow.

Draco let himself fall back down to the couch as he listened to Blaises loudly chow down his cereal.

“So are you going to go?” Blaise said his mouth still full.

He felt bad for Blaise’s mum all that money on etiquette lessons for what?

“No.” Draco said, burying his head in his pillow.

“You’re a tosser.”

“I can live with that.”

He could and he has. If he had a sickle for everytime he was called some variation of ‘tosser’ he certainly would not be sleeping on Blaise’s couch.

“I’m calling Pansy.” Blaise didn’t scare him, not in the slightest. But Pansy was another story, Pansy scared everyone, especially the people that loved her which sadly included Draco. “I will kill you.”

“You’re just saying that cause you know she’ll knock some sense into you.”

“I have a lot of sense.” Draco groaned. “In fact I have too much sense.”

Blaise ignored Draco’s exaggerated groans as he called Pansy.The call was short or maybe it was long, all Draco knew was that Pansy was standing over him with that look on her face.

“I’m not going, and you’re not changing my mind Pansy.”

“Blaise leave.” Pansy ordered.

Blaise looked insulted. “This is my house.”

“You call this a house?”

Blaise huffed mumbling under his breath curses at Pansy.

“That was rude.”

“So you're going to lecture me on rudeness now, that's rich coming from you.”

“I dont care.”

“You look and smell like shit, I can tell you ‘don’t care’.” Pansy said.

Never in her life had Pansy been one to sugar coat things and apparently she had no intention of starting to do so. Draco was going to argue it was the couch but he realized he couldn't remember the last time he showered so he kept his mouth shut. Draco a year ago would’ve drowned himself in the black lake had he known he’d come to be like this.

“Fuck off.”

“I’m pulling the card.”

“Pansy no that’s not fair.” Draco said sitting up.

“Fair?”

Poor choice of words.

“Draco, do I have to remind you my soulmate is dead, I stopped feeling tugs and being able to talk to my soulmate when i was 13. Your soulmate is alive by some fucking miracle, and frankly you’re being a selfish prick.”

“Oh.” He always hated when Pansy talked about it. Not because he didn't care but according to Pansy because he cared too much and the last time he had shown any sign of pity towards Pansy it had not gone well for him.

“What lies do you have Ginevra feeding her, does she think she has no soulmate, does she think her soulmate is dead?”

“She doesn’t think she has a soulmate.” Draco said in a low voice, he wasn't proud of what he was doing but he also knew he had no choice. “She was in her coma during the tug. I figured by the time the next one rolls around I have something figured out.”

“And what about you.” She asked. “She may not remember you but you’ll remember her, you'll never forget that you have a soulmate out there that you refuse to see.”

“I won't let myself ruin her.”

“She’s a grown woman, I find it demeaning that you don't see her capable of making her own damn choices.”

“What?”

“You think she'll hate you, you think she’ll be ruined, you think she’s better off. What about what she thinks? You think she'd be okay with you slowly killing yourself?”

“You're a bitch Pansy.”

“So I’ve been told.” She looked towards the clock.

“Come on lets get you something to eat.”

She reached her hand out for Draco to grab.

“I can walk to the kitchen without holding your hand thank you very much.”

Pansy rolled her eyes and grabbed onto Draco’s arm.

“What are you-”

Draco’s sentence was cut off by Pansy apparating them both out of the loft.

-

Draco had gone to his fair share of therapy, did it ever work? no, Draco would rather die before talking about his feelings with a stranger but he had been taught his fair share of anger exercises . And Merlin did they come in handy, truly it was the only thing keeping him from throttling Pansy as she stood there with a smug face looking at the rubble that once was Hogwarts.

“Pansy.” Draco said slowly.

“Shut up, look she’s right there.”

“I’m not ready Pansy.” Draco said wiping his palms on his pants out of stress. “I wanted to bring her flowers.”

“flowers?”

“Forget me nots.” He said with a sardonic dry chuckle. “It was our unofficial flower, ironic isn’t it.”

“The fact that you have an unofficial flower makes me want to throw up.”

“I need flowers.” He said. Pansy groaned before searching the grass. She picked up a dandelion swirling her wand transfiguring it into a bouquet of forget me nots.

“Here, go.” He was about to give another excuse but Pansy apperated away. The one time he needed her she leaves.

He wasn’t exactly sure how he was supposed to approach her without seeming like a stalker.

His thoughts were disrupted by Hermione and Ron walking up to him. He wanted to turn around so bad but he had no doubt that if he did so Hermione and Ron wouldn’t hesitate to curse him.

“Granger, Weasley.” He said sticking his hands as deep as his pockets would allow him.

“I didn’t think you were going to come.” Hermione said.

Draco shrugged.

“Just go talk to her.” Ron said.

“Thats why Im here.”

Ron mumbled something under his breath but Draco didn’t feel like fighting Weasley.

Draco had never felt such anxiety because of another person. He had always been confident and walked around like he owned the world, but now he felt scared.He watched you as you traced your hands across the bricks of Hogwarts, his steps faltering as he came closer to you.

“Hi Y/n.” He called out.

You turned to look at him. Draco’s heart felt heavy at the way you looked at him, not any recognition in your eyes. You had once looked at him with such love, then such hate but now you looked at him with nothing. because right now that’s what he was to you, and it broke his heart.

“You.” You said stepping closer. “You were the one talking to Ginny.”

“I wouldn’t really call it talking, she yelled I stood there.”

“Ginny does that a lot.” You shrugged.

“Yeah.” He said.

You spotted the flowers in his hands.

“I’m sorry, who did you lose?”

His hands tightened on the flowers.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” You said. “I lost my friend Fred, and my memory. But I don't feel like I lost it since I can't remember ever having it. But I miss Fred.”

He studied every centimeter of your face noting the subtle changes he didn’t notice the last time he saw you as you rambled on about Fred anxiously.

“You.” He said voice wavering. “I lost you.”

You stayed quiet for a second.

“I’m sorry I-“

“don’t know who I am?” He said with a dry laugh. “I was sort of expecting that.”

You didn’t say anything studying his face for anything that sparked a memory in you.

He dug through his jacket pocket pulling out a photo.

His hands were sweating and he tried his best not to touch your hand. Partially because he didn’t want you to feel his sweaty hands and because he feared he would break down at the realization that you were finally here in front of him.

“I’m Draco and you’re my soulmate.” He said

-

AN THIS IS NOT THE LAST PART THE LAST PART WILL BE THE NEXT PART

#draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy #ginny weasley x reader #hp imagine #harry potter #harry potter x reader #hinny #ronmione #hp #draco #malfoy #x reader #stuck with me #angst

[pwarkluv]

❝ bubbly ❞ - pjs

park jisung x reader | fluff | 3.3k words

WARNINGS | lowercase is intended, idol au, established relationship au, ngl this is really really fluffy, slight angst if you squint hard enough, idol!jisung x normal!reader, jisung and reader just miss each other :(, annoying dreamies who always tease poor jisung

SUMMARY | when you wait for him to come home from tour but accidentally falls asleep on the couch.

AUTHOR’S NOTE | this is my first fanfic on my blog oh my! mark isn’t here just cause he isn’t with the dreamies rn! i still love him though :) this is inspired by the song “bubbly” by colbie caillat! also this is not really your usual shy!jisung. he’s still shy but still kinda bold if that makes sense? idk idk this might really suck-

one month. 

one month of lonely nights, calls at random times depending on the difference in time zones, kisses through the phone, and just overall missing jisung.

park jisung. your boyfriend.

even saying that in your head brings millions and millions of butterflies to your tummy. the maknae of nct and the main dancer of the dreamies was yours. and you were just as much his. 

but being away from him is one of the scariest things for you. jisung was like your rock and not having him there meant more frequently bad days for you. it’s as if you can’t function properly knowing he won’t be waiting for you once you come home. 

however, after a long four weeks he was finally coming home. the moment you heard his voice on the phone reassuring you that he’d be home tonight, you secretly bursted out crying, not wanting to make the older boy worry. 

the night he came home, you did some light eyeliner and wore simple clothing, not wanting to go all out since it would probably be late at night until he got home and to be honest all you wanted was to just be in his loving embrace. after putting on the gray hoodie jisung left for you and black leggings, you put your up in a messy bun. your stray baby hairs were peaking out.

you then drove to the dreamies dorm where you agreed to meet up, being able to see not only your boyfriend but your best friends as well. the managers let you in with a smile. they have always had a soft spot for you and lowkey loved you more than the boys.

sitting on the couch you waited. hours passed and still nothing. no notifications on your phone. no text. no call. the last form of communication you had with jisung was his phone call letting you know he was on the plane, about to take off. 

you were a little worried, wondering if he’s still on his flight or if he’s okay. but you didn’t really know the distance between where he was flying from and korea, so the flight could just be really really long.

you tried staying up, you really did. the movie you played to keep you entertained was slowly lulling you to sleep. it was already one am and from the long day you had, you just couldn’t fight off the heaviness of your eyes.

a few hours passed and you were knocked out on the couch, your soft snores filled the silence of the room as the movie was long over.

too deep in your sleep to notice you didn’t wake up to hear your phone ringing and buzzing, blowing up with texts and calls from your very own boyfriend. 

jisung was worried. you weren’t answering and the last form of contact he had with you was when he called you right before they took off. your excited voice made his heart swell and he couldn’t wish for anything more than the plane to hurry up so he can scoop his baby in his arms and shower you with kisses. 

it was a little weird to have those thoughts though. jisung? the shy baby of nct wanting to give kisses? if you told him that a year ago he would’ve laughed and asked if you were mentally sane. being an idol at thirteen meant knowing at such a young age the things accepted and shamed in the kpop industry. having a girlfriend or any intimate relationship like that meant hate and shame for both parties. but his reasoning to not have a significant other yet all washed away the moment he laid his eyes on you.

one year later and you’re the light of his life. sure his hyungs loved teasing him about you but to be honest, he’ll take any sort of teasing if it meant being with you. you were and still are his everything. although he is still really shy showing affection in front of them, he’d still pull you in for a kiss if he really wanted to. however once you two were alone, this man was the biggest bully ever. since you were younger than him by a year, he loves babying you and teasing you about your height. 

he’s still growing his confidence being like that with his members so there’s an occasional time where he’ll speak to you cutely, cause the other members to gape in shock, mouths opening and closing like goldfish in a tank. 

during the ride back to their dorm, jisung couldn’t help but voice out his worries to his hyungs, wondering if you were okay. 

“do you think y/n is okay?” jisung would ask every ten seconds, lowkey annoying the others. his leg was bouncing nervously as he stared at his phone screen, seeing all the unread messages.

“jisung don’t be dumb.” renjun sighed as he laid down, reclining the seat as far as it could go. “it’s three am for god's sake! she probably just fell asleep.” he reasoned with the younger, just wanting him to shut up. 

donghyuck laughed a bit with his eyes closed, feeling the fatigue get to him too. 

jisung pouted a bit before sighing back. “i mean i guess you’re right.” 

the pink haired boy reclined his chair back too before quickly sitting up in terror.

“jisung what’s—”

“what if she’s being kidnapped and—“

chenle threw a pillow at him to shut up.

-

jisung flew out of the car, not caring if his luggage was still in the trunk of the car or if the others were still behind. the only thing he cared about was you. 

fumbling with the keys to the dorm he managed to open the lock in record time before face planting on the floor, tripping on the random shoe on the floor. the boy was ready to throw hands with the footwear until he realized who it belonged to. 

y/n, he thought. 

quietly walking through the dark dorm he sees a light coming from the living room and hears the snores he’s been wishing to hear in person for a whole month. 

❝ it starts in my toes, makes me crinkle my nose ❞

his feet suddenly felt like jelly looking at your peaceful form. you were gorgeous.

his nose scrunched up in happiness after noticing you were wearing his hoodie, the one he specifically wore for a week straight after knowing he’d be away for you for a month. 

with shaky hands, jisung slowly swats the stray hairs from your hair, a smile on his lips. as carefully as he could, he removed the blanket covering you sleeping form to slip in beside you on the couch.

❝ wherever it goes, i always know❞

the feeling of your warmth snuggled up against him still makes his heart hammer and at some point jisung was afraid you’d wake up to the sound of his thumping heart. instead however, you just nuzle your head into his neck instinctively making his face heat up. you really had an effect on this boy.

❝ you make me smile, please stay for a while now ❞

in moments like these, jisung really takes the time to appreciate how beautiful you are. don’t get him wrong, you’re gorgeous all the time. but when you’re unconscious, eyeliner slightly smudged, hair up in a messy bun and in his clothes, these are the most beautiful moments for him.

the smile on his lips evident as he thinks how nice it would be to come home to you like this for the rest of his life.

❝ just take your time whoever you go❞

rubbing soft circles into your back, jisung was ready to fight donghyuck when he came into the dorms like a mad man. the moment hyuck opened his mouth, your boyfriend was already shushing him with a glare, being careful to not lose the rhythm his hands had on your back. 

hyuck’s eyes widened a bit before smiling softly at the two. 

“jisungie is in loveee~” he teased the younger as the rest of the members came walking through the door, their eyes landing at the soft sight in front of them. 

jaemin looked at you two so happily. he knew how much you made their maknae happy and how much their maknae made you happy. you guys were a match made from heaven and he loved you for always bringing a smile to jisung’s face.

jeno’s eye smile was out, snickering a bit at how disgustingly fluffy jisung looked. the shy boy he grew up with was so confident (or well, more confident than usual) when it came to you. you brought out the best in the boy and jeno couldn’t thank you enough for that. 

chenle just rolled his eyes with a small smile, walking towards his room. he loves you two, don’t get him wrong. but sleep is calling him. lowkey though chenle loves to see you two together just cause the room gets brighter. your happiness and content being in each other’s arms makes everyone in the room happy too.

renjun bit back a smile, wanting to tease the younger. 

“i told youuu~!” he poked at jisung’s cheeks, bending down to look at your sleeping form fondly. looking at jisung’s red cheeks he laughed, causing the boy to glare again.

“shush you’re gonna wake her up.” he whispered.

renjun narrowed his eyes a bit before scoffing. “you’re lucky i like her and want her to sleep, unlike you.” he rolled his eyes but his smile showed he wasn’t really mad. 

after everyone left, jisung turned his attention back to you immediately cooing at the drool falling down your mouth. it was a little disgusting, he wasn’t gonna lie, but you’re cute so he let it slide. jisung was about to go for a kiss until he heard an annoying voice whisper in the back :

“jisungie is in loveee~”

the pillow that jisung threw at hyuck is what woke you up.

#park jisung #park jisung x reader #park jisung x y/n #nct dream #nct dream x reader #nct dream x y/n #nct dream imagines #park jisung imagines #nct #nct x reader #nct x y/n #nct imagines #soft jisung #kpop #kpop imagine #kpop imagines #pwark jisung #jisung park #jisung pwark

[ethrenisnotthehero]

@hogwartsmystory is a predator (final)

If you haven’t read the other parts of this callout, I encourage you to start here. As in both previous posts, the normal tags are not included in order to allow this to reach as many people as possible. Potential triggers are listed below, and the main content is hidden to keep sensitive individuals from being unintentionally exposed.

TW: Pedophilia, Abuse, Gaslighting, Sexual Assault, Self Harm, Suicide, NSFW Topics, Faked Illness, Faked Mental Illness, Faked Death, Victim Blaming

Originally, I intended to craft this final part to you, the reader, as an emotional appeal. To be wholly honest, there’s only so much evidence that can be utilized without either forcing Jill to relive unnecessary trauma or exposing deeply intimate or personal parts of her life. Until now, everything I’ve told you and everything I’ve shown you is what was enough to convince me when Jill first reached out to me. If you, the reader, don’t believe the factual information that’s been presented so far, then I don’t think that you will. If you, the reader, believe Jill and her story, then no further evidence is going to magically make her story more true.

However, I don’t have to. Instead, I can let the friends-- the family--that Ren created on his website speak for themselves, and show you with their own testimony just the kind of person he was. Jill wasn’t the only person that Ren hurt. Jill wasn’t even the only person Ren preyed on as a sexual predator. Many people on staff, and many people outside of it, knew Ren and grew to have what they thought was a close relationship with him. People regarded him as someone to look up to, to find comfort in, to aspire after, to lean on; people thought of him as a friend and a hero in his community.

On April 12, 2021, at 9:57 AM Greenwhich Mean Time, the current administrators of Advanced Scribes issued a statement addressing Ren’s actions and his faked death. An additional announcement was made the following day. While the announcements themselves and the replies (including moderator statements) are publicly available, I have saved a print-to-PDF versions on Google for you to browse at your leisure. 

I intentionally waited until the initial panic and outrage died out a little to let the most important statements come to light. Included in the PDF are sentiments that I personally thought were the most important sentiments; edits have been made and pages have been deleted, so you can see the current state of the conversations by visiting them directly. You can find the first discussion at https://advanced-scribes.com/viewtopic.php?f=13&t=42100#p1454263 and the second discussion at https://advanced-scribes.com/viewtopic.php?f=13&t=42107#p1454361.

Before you continue reading, please look over the statements and replies. The words of former staff former friends say more than I can ever hope to about Ren and the kind of reality that he stood for. Additionally, Jill herself has added to the conversation (username Rakuen), so you can read a bit from her perspective by looking into these announcements. After you’ve taken a look, continue below and I will sum up my final thoughts on this predator and his legacy.

Advanced Scribes • Our Statement (PDF)

Advanced Scribes • Change (PDF)

The Act of Grooming, Part 3: Entrapment

One of the reasons that predators get away with their crimes for so long is because they trap their victims. When they gain access to and successfully lure in their prey, they then engage in entrapment behavior to separate victims from other people and build reliance. The reason why kids are so prone to predation is because of how vulnerable they are. Young people just want to belong. They just want to have community, security, and affection. When they can’t get those things in their lives, they seek it out and take it where they can get it even when the situation is obviously bad. Kids can’t be held accountable for being smart because they’re kids. Jill was vulnerable. She wanted belonging and support. She fell into Ren’s lures, and he trapped her. He used his affection as a tool to solicit sexual favors and pictures from her, but never shared his face with her. She was always chasing his love, and all the while he was simultaneously preying on other individuals in the community. For God’s sake, this man had a selfie thread where underage girls would send pictures of themselves publicly on the site for him to look at, and he even intentionally disabled the website’s COPPA features.

Before Jill, there was Buttercup. Buttercup was also an admin, and she was also 13 when she met Ren. While Ren was a minor during he and Buttercup’s relationship, his behavior with her was just as predatory and Buttercup attempted to warn Jill via PM before she ended her relationship with him.

The picture he sent Buttercup wasn’t even him.

The entire time that Ren was convincing Jill that Buttercup was evil, and jealous, and a spiteful, hateful person, he was manipulating her the same way he was manipulating Jill. Ren is a predator who knows what he’s doing; he always has. He draws in his victims and makes everyone hate them so that he’s the only person they have. He makes them so desperate for his approval that they let him screw them over time and time again, and for what? Just to see his face. Think about what you read. He didn’t just do this to Jill and Buttercup. He did this to every person he cheated with or got close enough to get a grip on. Even if he didn’t sexually exploit someone, he emotionally did. An entire community of people suffered through this over and over and over again. Read the statements again. If you only read the live version, read the PDF. 

I also want you to bear in mind that everyone on staff was equally a victim as they were an enabler. It doesn’t erase their responsibility, but their roles in this story or more nuanced than “moderator bad, burn the witch!” Some of Ren’s supporters were as young or younger than Jill when they met him. The two people most notorious for standing at his side right now were both “rewarded” with a relationship with him in the fallout of his faked death.  

At some point, this man looked at his behavior and not only decided that he didn’t need to take responsibility, but that his victims daring to try and claim some kind of ownership over their own story was a personal affront to him. 

Ren is a monster of his own creation. He chose to be that monster again, and again, and again.

What makes his enablers equally to blame is when they became adults and made a conscious choice to ignore what was happening, which brings us to the next topic.

Finally... How Old Was Jill?

Despite everything I’ve said and shared so far, I still get this question in my inbox.

How old was Jill? Did she lie about her age? Is she free of guilt because she was a kid? Did he know how old she was? Was she legal in her country?

I gave you all everything I had. There were some things I just couldn’t confirm because there was no proof either way. However, all of that changed when the announcements were released. I now know exactly how old Jill was when they began dating, exactly how old she was when people knew about their relationship, and even that Ren was public with all of this information. I also know that staff knew everything, and chose to do nothing.

As you can see in the screenshots above of Buttercup’s message, it was sent on Jun 17, 2015. At that time, Jill was 14 years old. By Buttercup’s estimation, they had been dating for around a few months, which is how I was able to discern the previous exact age of 14 years old at the time they began dating.

However, Ren himself refutes that fact in a Valentine’s post for Jill. As pointed out in the “Our Statement” thread, the post that user amnesia. references includes very sexual and disgustingly graphic descriptions of Ren’s activity with her. It also says this:

As per the timestamp of this particular post (as seen below), Jill was 16 at the time. Ren, a man claiming to be twenty-five years old at the time, was proud to admit that he had been with Jill since she was 13.

You can view the full PDF of this post to see what else he said here, but please be warned that his descriptions are NSFW and absolutely disgusting. 

Warm Fuzzies Post (PDF)

No adult should talk about a kid like that. In the statements, several staff members admit that they knew that the two were dating when she was 16, and that it grossed them out. But none of them did anything. To amnesia.’s credit, they claim they tried to pursue legal action but found no viable routes. 

From the discussions and statements, we can discern five things:

1. Jill was 13 when she started dating Ren. 2. She did not lie about her age. 3. Ren did not lie about her age. 4. Ren knew how old she was. 5. Staff knew how old she was.

Jill’s feelings and her opinions on staff and their behavior are separate from my own. She does not share my beliefs here, and I need to make it very clear that what I’m saying next is entirely my own opinion.

To everyone who was staff at that time: shame on you. It’s one thing to be a victim yourself and to not understand how or when to stand up for what’s right, especially when you’re young; it’s another to become an adult and to have let something like this permeate your legacy and your community for all this time. From what I understand, none of you are completely innocent in this. Ren wasn’t secret, he was loud and proud and he didn’t give a shit what anyone thought. Everyone who was an adult then and is an adult now shares some responsibility for that. Those of you who mean your apologies, thank you, but those of you who are using this event as a stepping stone to make that website into your own personal playground know who you are. Stop. There’s an entire generation of kids between AS and CS who have lost years of their childhoods to this shit and the only right thing at this point would be to turn the site over to the police so that Ren can answer for his crimes the right way.

To everyone else: protect the people around you. People like Ren don’t think about how other people think or feel. They don’t care who gets hurt or who they trample under their feet. Look around at your community, and ask yourself if those who interact with you know that you are safe. Inevitably, someone is going to get hurt. Are you the kind of person that they can come to when it happens, or are you the kind of person who will turn your head away? 

Be the person that everyone knows they can come to, because, eventually, someone’s going to need you.

#ethren is not the hero #ethren whitecross #ethren #chicken smoothie #chickensmoothie #harry potter #hphm #hphl #hogwarts mystery #hogwarts legacy #aaron #aaron strider #strider #advanced scribes #advanced-scribes #skyren #captured hearts #aven #lucian

[rocketink]

LOST AND FOUND

In which you lose your stuff all the time but your first-floor neighbour somehow always has it for you. Or, in a soulmate world, your soulmate finds everything you loses and reverse.

pairing: minghao x gender neutral reader

genre: fluff, crack + neighbor & soulmate! Au 

wc: 2.2k+

warnings: none I think (this type of soulamte thingy is kinda crazy tho). Btw this is my first au so I’m sorry fpr any mistakes!! + English is not my first language so apologies :)

notes: I migh turn this into a series since I’ve thought about some details here and there as I wrote this au?? What do you think?? 

The situation inside your apartment has turned unbearable, and you know should have moved with Joshua when you had the chance. He wasn't the closest of your friends, but you're sure it would have been more comfortable with him rather than third-wheeling your roommates.

Now, you don't hate Mingyu and your best friend, you just think they are disgustingly cute. You feel very happy since you've seen them pining after each other for a while now (all the furtive glances they sent to each other when they thought nobody was looking was like being inside a rom-com movie and it was hilarious at first. It eventually became too much to handle). You've never seen two more oblivious people inside a room, it was exasperating. Things began to turn serious when they discovered they were each other's soulmates and they've been seriously dating ever since.

It's great, really, but why do you have to see each of their displays of affection? Or, should we say, why doesn't the time to find your soulmate finally get to you?

Because you know, deep down inside you, that the problem is not that they have a soulmate. The problem is that you don't find it.

"Good morning, love." Mingyu greets your friend with his deep morning voice, and gives them a kiss on their temple. "Good morning, Y/n." He gives you a tiny hug and you growl.

"It's too early for being cute don't you think?" You ask joking-not-so-joking.

"Feeling grumpy at eight in the morning? Woah, breaking your own record." You laugh at what your friend says and they laugh too. You don't mind being like this, just why does it have to get so awkward sometimes?

"Guys another disgrace has happened." You announce solemnly. "I have lost my jacket"

"Again?" Mingyu judges.

"But didn't you wash it yesterday? It must be hanged with the rest of the clothes."

"I checked when I woke up because it's cold and it wasn't there."

"It was pretty windy last night, maybe it fell?" Your friend suggests and they grin. "Maybe Minghao will bring it back to you later?"

Ah, here we have the other reason why you want to move to a lost town somewhere in Australia: Xu Minghao, your first-floor neighbor, the one that has an apartment to envy because of his small, well-decorated courtyard. You don't envy that, though, because your clothesline is right on top of his courtyard, and sometimes he has to bring you all the clothing items that fall into his yard. You don't know how all that ends up there, you've tried everything: from securing your clothes with more pins to tying it to the clothesline. But none of that ever works, and he always goes all up to the third floor -where you live- to give it back to you with a smile and a 'see you soon'. How does he know it's your clothes? You made sure to tell him the first time this happened.

Just like your friend predicted, that afternoon Xu Minghao knocked at your door.

"Hello." He greets with a friendly smile and your heart melts.

He's too adorable to handle.

"Hi, Minghao. Don't bother I think I know why you're here." You joke at your own clumsiness and he laughs with you too.

"You must have been cold without it." He seems worried and you shake your head.

"Don't worry, two layers of blankets made up for it."

He puts his hands into his pockets and smiles shyly and you feel your heart bursting off. When he leaves, you notice your jacket smells like him.

Ah, how you wished Minghao was your soulmate.

Things get more complicated when the finals approach. You can barely stand even after drinking your daily coffee and you spend day after day coming and going from home to the library. You are so focused and stressed that you barely pay attention to anything else, and you've lost from pens to your entire case. All of them safely brought back home by Minghao. You do not know how or when you threw your case through the window for it to end up at Minghao's yard, but he always brings some hot chocolate and a small talk with him, so you do not complain.

After all, you don't even remember how you wake up every morning by the end of the day. You end up thinking you need to control yourself a little more during finals.

One day it gets out of hand. You've probably had the worst of the days. You woke up late because you didn't hear the alarm clock, your roommates being all lovey-dovey already got you on your nerves, your exam was harder than you expected and you had a bad feeling about your answers. Then, when you finally got home, late and tired, your keys were nowhere to be found. You could feel your eyes getting watery and you knocked at the door. Nobody answers, your friend and Mingyu are celebrating their anniversary and you don't want to bother them even if all you want is a hot shower and watching a romantic without friends to cuddle. You immediately think of Minghao, would it be too much if you asked him to spend some time with you? You answer to yourself that yes, it would be too much, there's no need to bother anyone else. So what do you do now?

"Y/n?" Somebody asks behind you.

"Minghao?" And there you have it, just the one you were thinking of.

"Hi, uhm, are you okay?" You want to cry to that question, but you manage to hold back your tears.

"I'm fine I just- I must have lost my keys because I can't find them and there's no one home and I just want to sleep." You explain briefly.

"Are these your keys?" He holds something in his left hand that looks like your keyring -a framed pink paper with your name on it and a little olaf your sister once bought you-

"How did you find it?"

"I didn't, it appeared in my yard". He is as confused as you are.

"But... I remember I put it inside the pocket of my bag." You explain. "When I arrived it was opened so I just supposed they fell out. And there's no way they fell into your yard because they are always inside my bag, I never threw them... Why would anyone throw a keyring through my window? I-" You try to explain without taking a breath so that Minghao doesn't think you're a weirdo, but now you can't fight back your tears and Minghao looks worried.

"It's okay Y/n, don't worry, I understand. Well, I don't, but I know you didn't do it. Hold on let's get inside I'll make you some hot chocolate and we can watch a movie, okay?"

You nod without thinking, just wanting to be lulled into some peace. He makes you some hot choco as promised and makes some small talk while choosing a movie to watch.

"So where are your roommates?" He asks.

"Celebrating their anniversary."

"Wait, are they dating?"

"Didn't you know?"

"No? I'm so shocked what the hell." You laugh at his astonished face. "But are they...?"

"Soulmates? Yes, they are."

"Woah, lucky."

"I know right." You don't want this topic to surface but you can't help but ask. "Have you met your soulmate?"

"I haven't." After a few seconds, he adds, "have you?"

"No, not a single clue of who they are. I don't have a timer or a tattoo, or see them in my dreams... I'm getting tired of waiting. Overall watching the two lovebirds every day of my life."

"It is the same thing for me. I'd love to meet them or just to know how they are. I know I'm young and all that but I'm just very curious and almost all my friends have met them while I still don’t know how to find them. I feel left out."

You nod, relating to that feeling.

"By the way, if it gets tiring, why don't you just move out?"

"I don't know where to move to be honest. I don't know if I want to go through the 'look for a new apartment' process again, it's too tiring. Besides, I still have fun with them, they're not to blame for my loneliness."

Minghao laughs and looks away.

"Just so you know, I'm moving out next month. I found another apartment for a better price and I'm going to leave the one I have now. If it gets too unbearable, you can just take my place." And you are too focused on yourself to notice the sad look on his face.

Because Minghao and your little encounters made your whole living in a student's apartment life better, and you don't want him to go away. But you are just a neighbor in Minghao's life, so who are you to tell him that?

Minghao moves the following month just as promised, and you can't remove the moping face you wear.

"Why are you so sad Y/n? I've seen the new neighbor, he is as hot as Minghao." Your friend winks and you roll your eyes.

"I don't care. If he doesn't pick up my stuff then I don't want him."

"I've heard he is all the time arguing with their other roommate. Maybe they leave sooner than expected and Minghao comes back!"

"Don't be mean, Gyu!" You nag and he shrugs.

Somebody's knocking at the door distracts you from your conversation and both of your friends turn to look at you.

"Why do I always have to get the door? There's no Minghao now, I don't want it."

"Maybe is your new blue prince"

"Shut up, Mingyu."

But when you open the door to a frowning Minghao, your heart backflips.

"What are you doing here Hao? Is everything okay?"

"I am a little concerned." He shows you a small necklace you recognize immediately. "What was this doing in my house?"

"I lost it last week at university! I didn't know where it went." You try to answer.

"To my room?"

"Look, I also don't know what was my necklace doing in your house in which I've never stepped a foot in because is like five kilometers away ... Oh my god Hao did you walk here?"

"I took the bus." He looks down and then right at you. "The last time I saw you you were wearing it. I've been thinking for a week how did this get there since I haven't seen you in a month, I never took it and I know for sure you are not a stalker who would leave their necklace inside my room when nobody’s looking."

"Have you reached any conclusion?"

"Absolutely none. Then I talked to Jun and he said some of the romantic trash he usually thinks of, but this made me think."

"What did he say?" You don't know what direction this conversation is taking.

"He's a soulmate expert you know? He told me that maybe it’s because destiny wants us to meet again and I thought that couldn't be because oh god, what have I done to deserve you? Then I decided to make a little experiment and I'm really nervous because if this doesn't work out I might have lost the most important thing to me. Do you mind checking your room?"

You feel everything inside you revolving because of every single one of his words, but still, you do as he requests. You check your room, ignoring the question marks over your roommate's heads, and find nothing different. Except for a new notebook on top of your nightstand you hadn't noticed. It's a sketchbook, and all of the drawings on the inside are signed with Minghao's name.

"Is this yours?" He sighs in relief when he recognizes the sketchbook.

"This is a part of my life, you know?"

"Then how did you lose this?"

"I told June to leave it somewhere I didn't know so that I couldn't even look for it. I wasn't sure if it was going to work."

"I can't believe the universe does works like this."

"Me neither, but I'm glad it did."

"So, you said this friend of yours is an expert in soulmates?" You don't want to ask it directly, but you want to know if he's implying that you two are soulmates.

"Yes, I used the s word." You both laugh.

"Does this mean that you and I... You know."

"Jun told me this type of soulmate is rare, but it has happened under easier circumstances. All I know is that I keep finding you every time and I don't know if I ever want to stop finding you."

"OH COME ON JUST KISS ALREADY." You hear Mingyu shouting from the kitchen. "Babe, now I know how Y/n felt with us."

You want to laugh at Mingyu and tell him 'Ha, suffer you loser', but Minghao has other plans.

When he kisses you everything just seems simple and suddenly everything is fine, and you don't want to stop doing it. It's warm, it feels as if you had lost and found the most important thing in your life.

"Hold on then why did I never find anything yours?"

"Y/n, you break the kiss just to ask this?" You blush and he sighs. "I'm a very organized person, unlike others, so I barely lose things, happy now?"

"No. Does this mean that if I get lost in a crowd would you magically find me? You know, since I got lost."

"I don't know Y/n, and I don't want to find out. Now come here, I want to cuddle."

"Oh, yes. Finally."

#seventeen #minghao #seventeen imagines #minghao imagines #seventeen fluff #the8 imagines #minghao fluff #seventeen x reader #minghao x reader #seventeen au #minghao au #seventeen scenarios #minghao scenarios #seventeen fanfic #minghao fanfic #seventeen oneshot #minghao oneshot #seventeen drabble #minghao drabble

[izzabeean]

Chapter 1 : Out of Time

SUMMARY

Your first week back at university is nearly over and you’ve been dying to go on a date with your boyfriend Ushijima. And it’s not just ANY date, you are celebrating your final year of school together! However, the evening doesn’t really go as planned…

pairing : ushjima x f!reader / oikawa x f!reader /iwaizumi x f!reader

genre : angst + fluff

word count : 1,478

tags :  alternate universe - college/university, post-break up, friends to lovers, pining, slow burn

a/n :  first time writing fanfiction, I haven’t done any creative writing in a while. I feel like I changed this story so many times but I finally got it down. Please don’t drag me, I am learning!!

masterlist

ch. 1 | next >>

You thought when bad things happened, time slowed down, but it actually felt fast. Almost too fast. Everything seemed to happen in a single second, as you heard those four words, as you waited for the clock to rewind, and as you realized that the love you once had was no longer reciprocated.

--- 3 hours before ---

The anticipation of the weekend just moments away ticks in the background as you’re seated at a desk near the back of the classroom.

Today’s the last day of your first week back at university. Returning back to classes after a short break really put into perspective how much more work you were going to have to put in for your final year. But you were quite fortunate that you only needed to complete a couple more classes to graduate.

You squint at your professor straining your hearing to focus on every word he spoke, but your concentration continues to shift to your thoughts after class.

An evening that’s been planned for months.

To go out for a romantic dinner with your boyfriend Ushijima Wakatoshi, and drink expensive sake while toasting to a bright future together. You have been dating for a year now and the sentiment causes you to feel completely entranced in tonight's endeavors.

As you attempt to regain your focus, you feel a nudge on your arm making the hairs stand on the back of your neck. You turn to your seat-mate who takes the pen from your hand that you’ve been subconsciously fiddling with.

“Tōru!” you whisper, reaching to grab your pen back.

But Oikawa makes sure it's out of your grasp and places it behind his ear opposite from you.

Your eyebrow twitches as Oikawa radiates with a shit-eating grin. You hate it when he makes that face. And that’s when you realize that his actions are intended to be the sole purpose of irritating you, perhaps partially due to the fact getting a reaction out of you was so easy.

Before you cause a scene, you control yourself and let Oikawa get away with stealing your pen. You hear the professor wrap up the remainder of the lesson and begin to pack your things.

Oikawa smiles and focuses on you for a moment. There’s just something about the way you attempt to hide your crossness through the purse of your lips and flush of your cheeks while avoiding eye contact.

As he gathers his belongings, you observe him through your peripheral vision. There was a softness to his appearance, a kind of warmth that reminded you of when you first met.

It’s been almost three years. The two of you met on campus and you’d heard about him from other girls for being exceptionally charming and very attractive. You never quite understood why, but your curiosity grew upon your first impression of Oikawa and the next thing you knew, you were friends.

When the professor gives his final dismissal, you pop out of your seat and reach over to grab your pen. Oikawa’s attempt to stop you is too slow but takes the opportunity to grab your wrist.

You try not to snap and remain calm for fear you’ll give him what he wants, so you pout at his interception trying your best to appear innocent.

Oikawa raises a brow at you as you clutch the pen in your knuckles.

“What’s the magic word…” he coos.

You roll your eyes at his obnoxious tone, “Tōru!”

Oikawa chuckles as he watches you squirm your wrist out of his grip.

Collecting the rest of your things, you quickly regain your composure. To be honest, you couldn’t be bothered with Oikawa’s game, you had to quickly get home to get ready for your date and you already felt you had succumbed to his antics.

Oikawa slings on his backpack and waves to a couple of girls obviously gawking in his direction. You can tell they both undeniably have a crush on him as they continue to linger in the nearly empty classroom. His gesture causes them to blush while squealing out a farewell as they scurry out.

The brief exchange is nothing but the same any day you’re with Oikawa. It’s enough to the point you’re completely immune to it and the dirty looks you get from other girls for being around him.

“Do you want to come grab drinks with me and a friend?” he asks quizzically.

You furrow your brow at his invitation, feeling a bit of disappointment as you’ve been talking his ear off for months about your celebratory dinner with Ushijima.

“Tempting, but I have plans with Wakkan,” you respond.

"Oh, right,” Oikawa fumed.

You can tell he’s displeased as he pouts his lips in petulant annoyance-- Ushijima isn’t someone Oikawa has warmed up to. Often, at times, Oikawa can act quite childish around Ushijima as their personalities don’t necessarily complement each other and it’s been like that since the beginning of your relationship with Ushijima.

However, today you didn’t quite feel in the mood to argue, so instead, you give Oikawa a little nudge with your elbow.

“I’ll come hang out tomorrow, I promise,” you force a smile and hold your breath.

“Fine,” he says, narrowing his eyes, holding you to it.

You exhale deeply, grateful for Oikawa’s acceptance.

------

A knock comes across the silent apartment.

The unexpected noise lingers as you pause from touching up your lashes with a thin coat of mascara. You give your reflection one last anxious glance in the mirror, checking for any flaws. You had to look perfect.

Peeling yourself away from the mirror, you putter to the entrance of your apartment. It was too early for Ushijima to arrive and you weren’t expecting anyone else. But when you open the door, a tall young man stares down at you.

Wakkun!

Casually clothed in a matching hoodie and sweatpants, his rigid complexion radiates stony and daunting. You smile wide--despite his careless appearance--and invite him in.

Ushijima stiffens at your request and shakes his head.

A little helpless, you feel your stomach knot. Something didn’t feel right. His eyes are hard to read, as always, and pierce you with his gaze. But you feel his answer is cold and distant unlike what you are accustomed to.

Then your thoughts start to snowball… Why doesn't he want to come in? Why is he dressed like that? Is he sick? Is he canceling tonight?

“Is everything okay?” You hesitantly ask, putting a pause to your hasty thinking.

“We need to talk,” Ushijima grunts.

It takes you a moment to answer while you let the words sync in.

“W-what!” you stammer, clenching your fists. “I don’t understand--" But you stop yourself when he gives you a look so empty, it’s haunting. The feeling of anguish hangs in your chest, while your throat tightens making it much harder to breathe.

“I think we need to break up,” he utters without skipping a beat.

With those words, time speeds up, almost too fast for you to grasp. Your head starts to spin and in a single second everything is over, but it feels unbelievable as you stare into Ushijima with your adoring eyes. No words can express the aching that courses through you.

Then you shut the door.

Your mind goes blank. As your heart starts to race, you try to make sense of the sudden surprise attack. You could’ve sworn that it wasn’t over and perhaps it was a mistake, that Ushijima will be back. Yet you know it’s real once you stood there with your eyes locking on to the door for what felt like ages. Your entire composure depletes as you lose feeling in your legs and fall to the ground. You want to scream, to open the door and run after him begging to stay. But you can’t. You won’t.

You clench your fists so tightly your knuckles turn white, sending chills of dread down your spine and ounces of tears brim out of the corners of your eyes. You feel overwhelmed with hatred and sadness for being so naive and thinking things can last. Where the fuck did you go wrong? you blame yourself.

Your thoughts are cut when you notice the room got visibly darker, followed by the sound of people giggling and walking outside past your door.

Getting up, you flick on the hallway light illuminating the foyer of your apartment. It’s quiet and disgustingly morbid from the lingering tension of the event that unfolded earlier.

The curtains are wide open for the city lights to bleed in. A sense of loneliness seeps into your skin as you approach the window that overlooks the gritty streets. Taking a deep breath, you swear that tonight will be the only night you let yourself come completely undone.

Little did you know it was going to be a long evening.

#haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #ushijima x reader #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima x y/n #oikawa x reader #oikawa tooru #oikawa x y/n #haikyu x reader #haikyuu angst #haikyuu fluff

[neo-culture-mafia]

Triggered (badass reader + n.yt)

➼ “Flying back and forth from Japan to Korea wasn’t easy, especially when you were about to become the Japanese Junior Forces’ leader. You still had doubts about whether you were ready to take those responsibilities or not. But when you decided to take care of a serious problem with your own hands, you found out a new facade of yourself. A tough one.”

Words count: 3.9k

Genre: angst - mafia!au - boss!reader - leader!yuta - badass reader - mention of the dreamies.

Warnings: strong themed - mention of bruises/wounds - aggressive behavior - violence - mention of guns - sexual violence.  

Disclaimer: This contains mentions of sexual violence, I didn’t describe anything, but if you think you might still be sensitive to this, don’t read it.

“Hey losers!” You announced as you walked into the teacher break room.

“Wow, you remembered the way back home!” Jeno gasped in fake surprise, causing a few laughs in the room. “I thought you were going to stay in Japan forever.”

“We all did. By the way, you lost.” Renjun extended his open palm towards Hyuck with a grin on his lips as he scrolled down through his phone. “Shit.” Donghyuck whined, touching his back pocket for his wallet. “I’ll pay you a cappuccino later after classes.” He stared at Renjun with puppy eyes, receiving a small “Deal.” as a reply.

“Don’t tell me you two bet I wasn’t coming back.” You asked in crossing arms after hugging Jisung, he was the only student allowed to get in the teachers' break room.

“Of course not!” Renjun voiced, looking at you with the most offending expression ever on his face. “Donghyuck bet you would come back only after your marriage ceremony, and I bet you would come back before the ceremony to tease us.” He added, quickly turning his attention back to his phone, almost as the lack of eye contact with you would help him avoid your anger.

“Was that supposed to sound any better?!” You rolled your eyes, hitting the back of Hyuck's head as you hugged him. “I missed you too, idiots.”

“Oh, we didn’t miss you. At all. We’re too busy taking care of your classes to miss you.” Chenle whined, stopping a pile of papers on his desk, pouting at all the tests he still had to read later.

“Oh, right! I heard that you’ve been promoted to teacher, congratulations!” You pinched Chenle's cheek, hearing a groan leave the younger boy's lips as he pushed you away to make you stop.

“You sound like that is a good thing. I’ve never admired you guys so much as I admire you now. Those kids can be wild sometimes.” Chenle quietly admitted, not enjoying all the memories that surfaced his mind from his first week as a teacher.

“Welcome to the lack of sleep life where energy drink is your best friend. Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it.” Jaemin announced while he closed the fridge's door, throwing an energy drink to Chenle, and opening another one for himself.

“Thank you? I guess?” Chenle twisted his face, forcing himself to sit next to the table where all those papers waited to be marked with grades.

“Speaking of classes, how are my students? I remember having aces all over my class.” You asked as you threw yourself on the couch, next to Jaemin, who was now typing his next test on his laptop.

“Remember that girl with the blue hair? We’re kind of worried about her grades.” Jaemin started, followed by a bunch of hums in agreement from his friends.

“Kim Young?” You stared at Jaemin, expecting that you had misheard him, but as he positively nodded, your mind just went more confused. “Why? She has never seen a B or anything below that on her tests before.”

“A few months after you traveled to Japan, she started to fail all of our classes. She even had to redo a few of our classes, and now all of her friends are on more advanced classes than her.” Jeno addressed, letting deep sigh leave his lips as Renjun locked his phone's screen to fully focus on the conversation.

“That isn’t possible. She’s one of our smartest students!” “We know. But we had no choice but to make her repeat our classes. It broke our hearts to do it, we even had a small meeting together to see if we could give her an essay or something, but we just couldn't help her at that point.” Renjun backed his friend up, making you only stare at the only boys, searching for anyone who could give you any hope on defending the little girl.

“Was it that bad?” You asked in surprise, receiving a paper on your hands. It was her test. It was blank. “But... This doesn't make sense. Have you talked to Mark about it? Maybe if he talked to her, he could try to understand what is happening.” You questioned, still staring at her test with worry lines taking over your forehead.

“She slept during that test, by the way.” Chenle shook his head with nothing but confusion on his face.

“We have all tried to talk to her, including Mark. But she gave each one of us the same answer “I apologize, senior. I will work harder to not let any of you ashamed of my grades”, and even if we insisted, she would still say she’s just lacking effort.” Donghyuck talked in a higher pitch as an attempt to reproduce what her voice sounded like, but it only made you roll your eyes.

“I doubt that’s the case.” You handed over the test back to Chenle, debating whether or not to try to talk to her.

As much as you were still Junior Forces, your relationship with Yuta had caused you to be assigned to more missions in Japan, Taeyong had already talked about how he had plans for you to become the leader of Japan's Junior Forces since the business was starting to grow much more than expected there. 

“Well, then you go and talk to her. I’m sure Mark wouldn’t mind it.” Renjun suggested, shrugging when Jeno looked daggers at him. “He would probably thank you for the rest of his life if you managed to get her to talk about what’s going on.” He added.

“Are your classes over for now?” You asked, looking at your wristwatch as you tried to remember your old schedules.

“Yeah. She’s probably back in her dorms again. She’s been spending a lot of time there lately.” Jeno quietly answered, wondering how pissed Mark would be if he disagreed about this.

"Okay. I'll check her room then. See you later, losers." You blew a kiss to your friends, messing Jisung hair before you left the breakroom. 

As you walked closer to Young's door, your ears automatically heard the girl's voice, but she wasn’t alone. 

“Please, don’t do this. It’s still hurting from the last time...” You heard her fragile voice, making your hand stop a few centimeters away from the door, not daring to move a muscle as you paid attention to whatever was coming after that. “Ah, princess, you know that’s not how this goes. You don’t get a say on this.” 

“But-” “Unless you want those pictures running around...” The man’s voice cut her off. “No! Please, just- don’t do this.” Her voice sounded quieter and more distant.

And that was it. In a quick movement, you kicked the door down, seeing one of the most heartbreaking scenes you had ever witnessed in all of your long years of the mafia. The fragile fourteen years old who once held so much light on her eyes, was with her eyes consumed by tears, shaking by fear and probably cold as her breasts were exposed to the eyes of a random fucker you had disliked ever since day 1. He was already taking off his belt and his eyes were disgustingly admiring her figure, making you want to throw up. 

“What the fuck is going on here?” You seethed, instinctively closing your fists while you burned the fucker alive with the look on your face. 

“Y/N... w-what, what are you doing-” He stuttered out of surprise, taking a few steps away from the girl as you started to slowly walk closer to him. 

“For you, it’s boss, you son of a bitch.” You quickly threw your jacket to the crying little girl, who at that point was already sobbing and avoiding to look at your eyes. 

“Senior, I am so sorry.” The girl rushed to apologize while covering her shaking upper body with your jacket.

“Young, listen very carefully to what I'm gonna say.” You started, not daring to take your eyes off of the man a few meters away from you. In a matter of seconds, you got in with the right, knocking him down. “Don’t ever apologize for someone else’s shit.” “Teacher... I-”

“What did he mean by pictures?” You asked, staring at the man’s immobile body.

“You heard that? How much did you-” “It doesn’t matter, you’re okay now.” You cut her off, being careful as you approached her. The girl’s condition was heartbreaking. Her stomach and neck were filled by what seemed to be hickeys. The poor little thing was so frightened, that she even flinched when you tried to touch her. “Hey, it’s okay. You can trust me. I won’t cause you any harm.” 

“He said he would expose the pictures if I didn’t become his bitch.” She muttered, lacing her arms around her body as she tried to stop herself from shaking.

“What pictures?” You gently asked. “Pictures of me... naked.” Young whispered the last part, closing her eyes and flinching, almost like she was expecting you to scold her. But your heart was too broken for that. 

“Oh honey.” You closed your eyes for a few seconds, slowly shaking your head. “How would he have pictures of you naked?” 

“I- I don’t know.” The girl opened her eyes once she realized you weren’t going to scold her, and deep down she wished you to lecture instead of looking at her with so much worry. “A few months later, I was insecure about my lack of curves. I talked to Mark about it, and back then he said that our true beauty can only be seen by someone else’s eyes. And I wanted to see it, I wanted to feel pretty in my own skin... so I took a few Polaroid pictures of myself fully naked... they weren’t supposed to be seen by anyone else, I was gonna burn them later, but then he... he keeps them in his third drawer, that’s the only thing I know, I swear.” Young kept her body slumped downward, looking at her aggressor while more tears fell down her cheeks.

“Okay.” You nodded, taking a deep breath in pure frustration before you continued to talk. “Listen, right now I want you to take a long 10 minutes shower, put on some comfortable clothes, and wait for me here. I’ll be back in 15. Don’t talk to anyone and don’t open the door to anyone but me. Do you understand?” You asked in a serious tone, with your hands itching to touch her and comfort her, but you knew better than that. You had to respect her space.

“What are you gonna do?” Young asked as her small hands cleaned some of her tears away from her face.

“I’m gonna make this fucker wish he was dead.” You threateningly stated. Your eyes were glued on the man's figure on the floor, and the only reason why you still hadn't beaten the crap out of him, was because Young was too unstable to take all the violence. “Go to the bathroom. We’ll talk later.” 

Once Young was nowhere to be seen, and the sound of the water dropping filled the room, you grabbed the motherfucker's by his hair and slapped his face with all of your strength. 

“Wake the damn up!” You hollered on his ear, causing Leon to open his eyes, still with a confused expression on his face. “What are you doing?” He muttered when his eyes finally focused on the pissed figure of you. “Let go of me.” 

“Wrong answer. Let’s go for a walk.” You hissed with your half-shut eyes, dragging the motherfucker out of the room and through the empty hall with nothing but a pure and unstoppable rage burning and rushing through your veins. 

As you kicked the son of a bitch's body at the top of the stairs, you silently hoped he wouldn’t get downstairs alive. But unfortunately, bad people never die easily. When the asshole's body finally hit the flat floor, the first thing he attempted to do was run. In a matter of seconds, the Glock that was resting on your waistline was already on your hands. 

“You run, you get a hole in your head!” You shouted, quickly getting the safety off as you pointed the gun right at the brains of that fucker. 

You calmly went downstairs, with your eyes never leaving the eyes of the man who had awakened the worst part of you. It wasn’t easy to get to your feelings, but he had the fucking nerves to do it when he laughed at your face when you questioned him about what you had just seen. He had left you no other choice but to push him down the stairs. Oops?

When your feet finally touched the ground, Leon, who had now the side of his head bleeding, adjusted his posture trying to somehow look taller than you, almost like an animal trying to terrify his prey. If only he knew the prey in the situation was himself, he wouldn’t have dared to act like that. You were going to hunt him in hell if you needed to. The outcome of his action was your anger growing stronger. 

“Look at you. I didn’t even start it and you barely can keep yourself on your feet.” You laughed bitterly with a disgusted look on your face. Leon spitting his blood next to your feet in purpose didn’t help you with getting any calmer. “On your knees.” You growled, motioning to the floor with the gun, never breaking eye contact with him. 

Your eyes were on fire and if you weren’t holding yourself back as much as you were, you would’ve exterminated his ass by now. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” He huffed with a mocking smile directed to you as he chuckled, almost like you were talking nonsense. 

“Do I sound like I’m fucking kidding? Huh?” You hit his chest with your glock, silently wishing would “accidentally” pull the trigger while doing that. “You fucking psycho!” In a quick move, you hit his head with the gun and kick his stomach, getting him straight to the floor, writhing from the pain that was burning his body. “On. Your. Knees. NOW!” You hollered in pure hatred, shooting next to his body, causing him to flinch and quickly get on his knees as you told him to.

“What the hell is happening here?!” You heard Mark's voice yelling at you, followed by the sound of his feet hectic coming downstairs. Your heart was beating so fast that you were finding it difficult to hear anything that wasn’t yourself and all the ways you were quietly weighing on how to kill that son of a bitch. 

“Don’t get involved, Mark.” You clenched your jaw as an attempt to control yourself to avoid the situation to escalate any more. 

“Y/N, put the damn gun down. He’s family. You can’t kill family.” He firmly stated, walking slowly towards you. 

“Mark, right now, I’m not talking as your friend, I’m talking as your fucking superior, so if I told you to not get involved, you will stay the fuck out of this!” You looked at Mark out of the corner of your eye, not daring to move a muscle as you constrained the anger inside of your body. “Call Taeyong. Or I will drag this idiot's bleeding ass through the whole base till Taeyong's office to show our leader the shit this fucker has been doing.” You added in baring teeth, refusing to look anywhere but Leon's face who still had the guts to maintain his mocking smile. 

“Y/N!” You heard more voices calling for you, as more and more noises of steps started to resound in your ears, but you were too busy to care.

In a blink of an eye, there was already a circle full of people around you. Most of them were just curious students. If the situation was different, you would probably wonder if showing them that much violence was healthy, but it was not like you were in your perfect state of mind. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Jeno questioned, attempting to get closer to the fallen man, only to find your open left arm as an obstacle, stopping him to move further. 

“Jeno. Room 149. Third drawer. Go. Bring me whatever you find there.” You told the black-haired boy, who just stared at you in confusion before muttering a quiet ”okay” and vanishing.

“Why are you doing this to him? Isn’t he family?” One of your students asked in a scared tone, making your confidence falter for a second. 

“Shh, don't ask.” Donghyuck warned him, taking a few steps closer to you till he was on your left side. “Whatever this is, are you sure you want to do this here? There are too many kids down here, and some high-level men are also starting to arrive.” He whispered, placing his hand on your shoulder, trying to get your attention.

“Believe me, you would do the same thing if you were on my shoes.” You answered with a dry mouth.

“Ms. Y/N.” Taeyong's voice filled the place, with all heads turning to face him as he slowly went down the stairs with Yuta, your fiancée, behind him. 

Immediately, everyone who was around you opened space for Taeyong to go through the crowd and reach you with no problems. Deep down, many of those people were expecting you to be scolded by Taeyong. The outcome was much different.

“Mind explaining what’s going on?” Taeyong asked in crossed arms as his eyes wandered indifferently at the bleeding man that he recognized seconds later as one of his own.

“This bitch is threatening to kill me, boss! She’s crazy!” Leon crawled closer to Taeyong, only to stop at the sound of Yuta's gun safety going off. “One step closer and you’re done.” Yuta stated, threatening to point his gun at the disgusting man.

“I would be more careful with your words if I was you. Her future husband is standing right by my side, and I can assure you he won’t be as patient as I am. And besides, I didn’t ask you, I asked her.” Taeyong turned his face to stare at you, nodding as permission for you to speak. 

“As you know, Neo Culture treasures and nourishes family as the most important thing in life. We should always have the back of our own, right?” You started with a clear irony on your voice, waving your gun around in circles with a tight-lipped smile on your face.

“Correct.” Taeyong nodded once in agreement, furrowing his brows with attentiveness. “Go on.”

“Then tell me why the fuck this son of a bitch was abusing one of our juniors? A minor?” You snapped, pointing your gun back at his forehead in a quick movement. 

The whole place started to be filled with gasps and whispering. 

“She's lying!” Leon shouted in anger, pointing his finger at you, trying to get Taeyong's attention back to him, but the leader’s eyes never left your figure.

“Y/N, are you sure of this?” Taeyong leaned forward with his eyes narrowed angrily.

“Jeno. The pictures.” You motioned for the black-haired boy to come closer and hand them to Taeyong.

When the leader’s eyes met with the pictures on his hands, he wanted to throw up. By his expression, you could tell there were more pictures than you acknowledged. Your anger was undescribable at that point, you were on the edge.  

“He blackmailed her with these. And I caught him trying to take off his shitty pants next to her.” You stared disgustedly at Leon who still had his belt falling off of his pants. 

“Taeyong, don’t believe her, she’s-” “Don’t you dare to say my name.” Taeyong cut off Leon with a crisp voice, before handing the pictures back to Jeno with his eyes fuming. “Burn them. I don’t want to see those pictures ever again.”

“You gotta be fucking kidding me! This is clearly not true!” Leon hit the floor with his closed fists, making you want to laugh at his liar ass. 

“Then why the fuck those pictures were in your room?!” You hollered, hitting his head once again with your gun. “You did this shit to family.” Yuta shook his head with disgust on his eyes. 

You stared at Taeyong once again, silently asking for permission to go on, receiving a positive nod from the leader. 

“LISTEN THE FUCK UP, YOU IDIOTS!” You yelled as you aggressively kicked Leon's body to the ground a few meters away from you, causing all the juniors to stare at you wide-eyed at the sight of their teacher being hostile. “This is the first and the last time I’m ever going to say this. No matter where I am, no matter what I'm doing, I will maintain contact and regularly visit every single girl in this base. And if it ever comes to my ear that any of you fucking men has bothered them... this will happen.” You shot Leon's left leg, causing the man's scream to resound on your ears. “YOU BETTER LEARN HOW TO TREAT WOMEN RIGHT! I don't fucking care who you know inside the mafia, I don't fucking care if you're a junior or a senior, I don’t fucking care if you have a relationship with them or not, I will end you. For good.” You shot his another leg, making more screams from pain to leave his annoying lips. 

“You fucking whore...” Leon murmured, spitting blood as he uselessly attempted to staunch his wounds. 

In two seconds, Yuta came running from his spot next to Taeyong just to hit a kick right onto Leon’s wounds, he was agonizing in pain.

“I’m sorry, what were you saying about my soon-to-be wife? I was too far, I couldn’t hear you right.” Yuta forces his foot down, making more and more blood stain the floor. 

When you checked on your juniors’ faces, a lot of them looked terrified, and as much as part of you lowkey wanted to murder each man standing on that place, you knew not all of them were like that douchebag. 

“Mark.” You called for the attention of the black-haired boy, pointing at the kids with your head, motioning for him to call the shots. 

“You’re dismissed.” Mark announced, clapping both of his hands to get everyone’s attention. It didn’t take long until only the older members stayed behind.

“Would you like to do the honors, babe?” Yuta asked, turning his head to see you looking down with your eyes closed. Your hands were trembling as you could barely hold your gun anymore. 

You had been raped before. Something that only you, Yuta, and the closest members knew. Whatever you had seen in that room, it triggered your past. 

“You have no idea of the damage you’ve made. Even if I kill you right now, you still won’t be any close of feeling what she’s feeling.” You stated on the edge of shedding tears, but still not daring to let a single tear drop off of your face, you were too stubborn for that. “I won’t fucking give you the pleasure of being killed by me. But the only reason why I won’t it’s because there is someone who needs my attention more than you.” You dropped your gun on the floor, with the loud sound of the steel attracting everybody’s attention back to you. 

“Yuta, get her out of here.” Mark stated, receiving a positive nod from the older man who quickly went to your side, guiding you out of there as you silently sobbed, feeling taken and swallowed by the bad memories that took your mind. 

#admin💫 #this was the first extremely strong themed piece ive written #im somehow not too comfortable about this #but here we go #nct mafia au #nct dream mafia au #nct mafia #nct dream mafia #nct yuta nakamoto #yuta nakamoto #nct angst hours #nct oneshot #nct imagine #yuta angst #yuta angst hours #yuta blurbs #yuta oneshot #nct 127 yuta #nct yuta #yuta x reader #yuta x you #yuta timestamps

[internalsealpanic]

Lover, Tell Me, if You’re Able

Summary: You trek down to the underworld to save a certain Robin using your admittedly limited knowledge of Greek Mythology. Nothing a little moxie can’t fix right?

a/n: I’ve been wanting to do an Orpheus Eurydice thing with Jason for a while now. I’m pretty sure this has been done but I really wanted to take a stab at it. 

listen to this song while reading: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zP47npl3rHo

warnings: angst, slight body horror, unhealthy grieving, bad decisions, and kind of an eating disorder caused by unhealthy grieving. There is some tooth rotting fluff though.  

word count:  5,049

You snorted in your usual short, breathy laugh—which according to certain asshats sounded less like a laugh and more like the death rattle of a hyena —as you nearly tripped over what felt like the fiftieth rock in the past half hour. You cursed quietly wrapping your shaking arms around yourself letting your unkempt fingernails dig into your thoroughly abused coat which probably had a few unwanted holes by now. It wasn’t even that cold nor was it even remotely scary. You know, aside form the ghostly moaning bouncing off the walls but that was par for the course in Gotham subways. No big deal. 

After what felt like the seventieth rock, you swore. You swore loud and vicious and cutting.  You swore to capital ‘G’ god that when you found Jason Peter Todd you were gonna curb stomp his ass into next week. This is his fault for being stupid enough to- to-

Just like that, your anger and frustration plummeted into grief.

Your mind fell back to the funeral, 

For the first since you entered the dark tunnel a few hours ago—a few days ago?—, you could feel the cavernous walls threatening to close in on you as you took another shaky step. 

To all the ‘I’m sorrys’ and condolences,

You could feel your rib cage fall open. Each gentle pat on, gentle look, and hushed whispers scooping out your insides leaving a vast empty cavity save for a heart that ached too much to beat properly and a pair of lungs clogged with too tar to breathe. The expanse of your chest feeling too full and too hollow at once. 

To all the ‘he died too young’ crap,

No shit!

No friggin shit!

He was 16. He was six-fucking-teen. He just got his fucking driver’s license. 

You wanted to scream but the words lingered in your bones. Instead, the nestled and furled into a mantra and worked their way up to your throat, burning. As if folding and creasing them into a perfect, proper eulogy of hand-picked words would bring him back. 

You knew it wouldn’t. You weren’t foolish. You weren’t that hopeful. You weren’t even disgustingly hopeful. You were Alley born. You were practical and brutally realistic. You were also not dumb. As much as people in Gotham Academy seem to believe, you weren’t stupid. You knew there was no ending to his story that involved a long peaceful life. He was also a child of the Alley, born of Gotham’s gutter, there was no way he would not die young. 

Your tongue felt heavy like a tombstone being set into place. 

And to all the ‘he’s in a better place now’

HA! 

The words set your grief a flame burning it into the kind of white anger that consumes even those around you. 

Fucking hilarious. 

Just fanfuckingtastic. 

You’d see about that. 

You took a long sobering breath holding it in afraid that if you breathed out the anger would seep out leaving you with nothing but grief. 

After what felt like an eternity, you breathed out sure that all the anger, all the irritation, and all the sputtering hope had settled in your bones. 

You were going to get him back. 

You will. 

——————————————————————————————————————————

Jason tapped the edge of your science textbook with his pencil morse coding something and clearly demanding your attention. You rolled your eyes, moved your textbook an inch closer to you, and continued reading through the passage electing to ignore your likely scowling best friend. 

He tapped again. You didn’t look up sure that he’d go away if you pretended his existence was an elaborate hoax. This ingenious strategy is probably why you two have been glued together for the last 10 years.  

Losing patience, he snatched up your textbook earning a petulant, half-hearted glare from you. “What the fuck do you want, Jay?”

“Do you remember the Myth of Orpheus and Eurydice?”

You blinked at him, honestly confused. 

He gave you a questioning look. He could probably see the gears turning in your head. 

You’d heard the names before but you were struggling to associate them with anything. Until it clicked. 

“Oh yeah, Hadestown the dude with the guitar-”

“Lyre,”

You made an affronted noise which made him roll his eyes at you but you could see the slight twitch in his lips at your antics. You would count that as a win. 

“He plays the lyre, you uncultured swine. Did you even read the packet?” He asked lightly tapping your head with your textbook. 

“Your posh bitch is showing,” you snorted.  he tapped your head just a tinsy bit harder with the textbook. You scowled at him. He gave you a gentle reassuring smile which roughly translated to ‘it was an accident I swear’. “Uh sure. Yeah. Course, I read the packet” you lied reaching over for your textbook which he sets down on the table behind him. 

“Are you even literate?” He joked. 

“Last time I checked I needed that to forge doctor’s notes for rich snots,” Jason wrinkled his nose trying his level best to scowl at you but from the crow's feet forming at the corners of his eyes the laughter bubbling in his chest was clearly winning out. You knew he was just worried about the unnecessary risk you were taking but it was a bad habit from the Alley days you couldn’t shake. It wasn’t like you were likely to get caught. 

“The In Class Essay is next period, dip shit” he sneered as harshly as he could. He was so bad at being a hard ass that you just smiled. “Yet here you are talking to me and depriving me of my education,” you snarked, gesturing vaguely to your book.

 You could technically get up and get it yourself but you were too lazy and you were pretty sure Jason wasn’t gonna let you get the book that easily. “Sides, it’s English who cares?” At that, Jason wrinkled his nose in disgust. “How am I friends with you again?”

You hummed, leaning back in your chair, tilting your head back dramatically before flinging yourself over the table to snatch up the textbook from the table behind him. You were a good amount taller than Jason which really wasn’t something to be too proud of. The bar wasn’t too fucking high. 

You plopped back down to your chair grinning ear to ear victoriously immensely enjoying his shocked look. Then he looked like he was about to deck you. 

“Well for starters, I’ve saved your ass from getting shanked about 15 times now. That’s just counting instances out of uniform,” He looked at you affronted. You simply rolled your shoulders. “Plus,” You reached into your blazer pocket and produced a beat-up looking tootsie pop ring.”You’re the one who proposed,”

Jason turned a luminescent shade of red as if you had just pulled out his entire cash of porn which you’ve done. “Why do you still have that?! How?”

“Because you still haven’t given me a proper one,” you said smugly tilting your head to the side inviting him for a rebuttal. He sighed exasperated. Resting his chin on his hand, palm covering half of his face, he glared at the opposite wall making damned sure that he didn’t look your way. The flush in his ears peaked through his cropped curls. It was hard to catch but your nosy ass definitely heard him mumble “I’m saving up,”. 

Your face broke into a stupidly wide smile, a warm feeling bubbling up in you. “I’ll hold you to that, lover,” you cooed cheerfully, giving him a quick peck on the nose as the bell rang. You could see the mortification attack his entire being in waves. 

——————————————————————————————————————————-

Stumbling out of the tunnel, you find yourself in a fray of souls all crowding towards the shore. You keep your head down and shuffle in step with the dead. 

‘The dead hate the living’ Constantine warned as he handed you the drachma and a beat-up old map. You handed him a wad of cash. He didn’t seem to care that money was dirty. 

You keep your expression carefully blank and focus on your feet but the sheer anxiety crawling up your spine rattling every vertebra was making that very difficult. You swallowed thickly trying to think of anything else but the depressing moans and absolutely haunted expressions were also making your life difficult. Instead, you focus on your award-winning bullshit speech that was surely going to win over the lord and lady of the underworld. Ok, sure, you weren’t half the thief Jason was nor were you even half as smart. But you were definitely the better conman. You might have had absolutely no interest in English class but words have always been your friend. You could definitely spin it with the best of them. It helped that all the rough edges that came with being an Alley kid tucked themselves neatly away behind trustworthy eyes and easy smiles. Even gods could be taken for a ride, right?

Somehow you made it to the shore without incident and even got yourself on the boat without even as much as a glance from the ferryman. That was a little unnerving but you weren’t about to complain. Not when it brought you a step closer to your goal. It might have been partially due to your unkempt appearance. Long nails, dead fish eyes, ratty coat, sallow cheeks, and dimming complexion all thanks to this wonderful diet called ‘grieving over your dumbass boyfriend/best friend because he decided to be a dramatic bitch and die an untimely death’. Part of you wonders if you simply want to bring him back so you could murder him. Maybe. Looking around at the haunted looks on your fellow passengers move that to a probably. 

Uncomfortable, you jam your hands into your coat pockets. One hand dug deep into the recesses of the pocket where the little ring was safely squirreled away. You fidgeted with it passing it from finger to finger like the coin trick you’d learned a while back.   

——————————————————————————————————————————

“Marry me,” Jason demanded unsurely, kneeling on one knee clasping your hand with both of his tiny ones. His little face ironed into something serious but cheeks flushed making them, what the girls called, pinchable but even at age 6, you were able to resist if simply for the fact that you were dumbstruck by the fact that  your best friend and crush was suddenly at your doorstep in the middle of the day and clasping your hand. 

“What?” You asked tugging your hand away but he didn’t let go. He absolutely refused to. 

“Marry me,” he insisted. “I’m proposing,” he added shyly seeing how the confused furrow in your brow did not disappear. “Lena said it was a good idea,” he added quietly.

A round of hoots and hollers exploded behind you including Lena who was laughing her ass off. Even Carol and Lassie who were busy doing their makeup were snickering  and giving you a thumbs up respectively. Your face burned hot and you scowled at all of them which just made them laugh louder. You snapped your attention back to Jason who looked at you with bright earnest blue eyes. Fuck. You crossed your arms trying to look intimidating and failing miserably because of just how goddamned cute he looked. Manipulative bastard. 

“Don’t you need a ring for that, bud?” you challenged. 

“Oh yeah,” He scrambled digging through his various pockets before producing a tootsie pop ring. Your hackles rose. What the hell Lena?

“Look at the size of that rock!” Josaline hollered from behind you. You could see the teasing smile on her face. You wanted to shrink. You wanted to maul them. You also wanted to burst because your crush likes you. You had a tiny, itsy bitsy crush on Jason for a while now. You’ve always declared that it was small but that didn’t stop the girls from teasing you relentlessly and this was just a nail in the coffin. You wanted to scream at Jason but the way he looked at you made your little heart flutter. 

“Fine,” 

He grinned wide. “Great! We can share rent,” he said his earnest smile turning cheeky. You swore some of the girls were choking from laughter. That was the moment you decided to make Jason Todd’s life miserable. 

——————————————————————————————————————————-

As it turns out, traversing the underworld wasn’t that hard. 

Nope. It wasn’t any harder than going around crime alley. At least here, you weren’t too worried about getting shot.

Nope. 

It was just incredibly. Fucking. Depressing. 

The atmosphere was suffocating and the only thing you’ve heard for hours were people listing their regrets when they weren’t too busy sobbing. Given they have every right to be this way. They did die after all. But Christ! You being able to understand it didn’t mean you could stand it. 

Jason owed you big time. 

Jason owed you the largest bowl of ice cream complete with 20 different flavors of your choosing, a mountain of whipped cream, a shovel full of sprinkles, and an ungodly amount of chocolate syrup. 

And a hug. A long ass, bone crushing hug. 

Yeah, you’re definitely demanding a hug. You don’t care if his pansy ass tries to break for it. You were getting the hug. 

Once this was done-

You turned the thought over in your head pointedly ignoring the fat droplets of tears now streaking your face. You weren’t entirely sure whether they were from relief or unrelenting anxiety. If you succeed, your 8 months of hell would have been worth it. 

But what if I fail?

What happens when I fail?

The thought seized your breath, your lungs constricting as if their cage of bones was threatening to collapse in on itself in your effort to shrink away from the possibility. You stopped breathing completely. A bad habit you picked up from your first foster home after social services took you from your home. Apparently, they didn’t think a group of hookers could provide a safe loving environment for a kid. Assholes. Breathing meant relaxing. Relaxing meant letting your guard down. Letting your guard down led to bad things. Jason never commented on your new habit after you two reunited. After you both found yourselves at the mercy of Gotham’s streets. 

“Lover tell me if you can~” You paused but not quite long enough for a response. Not like a few months ago when you’d wait catatonically for Jason to respond with the verse you’d forgotten in his oddly melodious voice. Singing was the one way you’d learned to breathe out after locking up without triggering a panic attack. Sure, it annoyed the hell out of a lot of people but who cares. You liked it. Your voice was decent. Plus, Jason loved it when you sang. Your breaths flowed easier accompanied by a melody and the smile on Jason’s face every time you sang always took your breath away.  

——————————————————————————————————————————-

“ Lover, tell me if you can Who’s gonna buy the wedding bands?~” You hummed the rest of the forgotten stanza under your breath as you wrap the ‘acquired’ blanket around the both of you. Gotham winters were a bitch but you tried your best to keep your spirits up which basically meant teasing Jason to hell and back. Who knew calling him lover would annoy him so much? 

Instead of the intended reaction, Jason simply continued to the next stanza sounding a lot more in tone than you. You huffed partially from amusement partially from frustration. 

“Figures you would know this song,” you teased.

Jason scowled tugging more of the blanket around himself as a lame form of retaliation. You leaned in closer to him and wrapped your arms around him. He huffed not really able to stay mad at you for too long.“It’s from Hadestown. The old woman at the pawnshop always plays it when she’s working,”

“Horse shit, all she ever plays when I’m there is Madame Guillotine,” You wrinkled your nose.”She probably hates me,”

“Gee, I wonder what that’s about,” Jason smirked. 

“You know, she probably has a crush on you,”

“EW! Shut up!”

“Come on we gotta milk it-”

He elbowed you. 

“Fine,” you relented, rubbing your chest and letting your head lean on his. You watched the snowfall basking in what little warmth you shared. 

“Promise me you’ll sing that when-”

“IF”

“When we get married,”

“Fine but ya gotta sing the entire GI Joe theme song plus the Baby Shark Song,”

“BET”

——————————————————————————————————————————-

You stood before large obsidian doors bouncing on the balls of your feet. The doors were carved elegantly with swirling patterns and sprawling carvings of flowers and bones. Dramatic but very pretty. Your stomach churned as the doors lurched open. 

You were going to be sick. 

Before you were a long table piled high with every kind of food you could think of. Likely you would have had to pick up your jaw and mop up a cascade of drool from the floor if not for the last few months. Your stomach threatened to implode if you kept looking. Months of not eating properly did that to you. The first few months were the worst. You were barely able to keep a  bite down without your body convulsing and rejecting it. Sadness had hollowed you out and filled you with something else during those months. 

Now,  you shifted your gaze to focus on the tall man sitting imperiously at the other end of the table on a throne carved out of precious metal. How someone looked imperious while eating was a mystery to you. It might be the fact that he was abnormally large looking to be around 10 ft tall. His frame was broad which contrasted greatly with the regal features of his face which were set in a rather loving configuration as he stared deep into the eyes of the dark-skinned woman as she recounted what sounded like a hilarious encounter with a dryad. The woman was unnaturally pretty with sculpted features and wild curls. She looked right at home underneath the sun which made her presence here ease your fraying nerves. They smiled at each other smitten with each other’s presence which almost made you feel guilty for interrupting their moment of marital bliss. 

You clear your throat as politely as you could drawing their attention and possibly their ire towards you. You took a deep breath, the kind that inflated your entire body, and forced it out through your nostrils as your mouth was busy reconfiguring itself into an easy smile. 

“My Lord Hades. My Lady Persephone,” You greeted bowing your head courteously. Your gestures were less grandiose and theatrical as the ones you used on the rich punks in Gotham which they happily lapped up. No, you made sure every movement, every posture, and every word was quieter, trying your damnedest to radiate sincerity and reverence from every pore in your body. Sure, you didn’t have Jason’s easy charisma and sure, you didn’t have the power Dick had for making everyone fall in love with you instantly but you were damned if  you were going to make a fool of yourself in front of two literal gods and squander your only chance at getting your boy back. Not when you’ve come so far. Not when you’ve done so much. Not when you’ve dirtied your hands this much. 

Hades looked neither pleased nor displeased by your presence. Good enough. The fact that you were still intact might have something to do with the mischief in Persephone’s eyes. She looked extremely amused despite your interruption. You hoped, which you didn’t normally do, that that boded well for you. 

“I am her-”

“We know,” Hades interrupts. 

Your body twitched. Rude. But you schooled your features into something resembling pleasantry. 

“You’re here for the boy,” He adds, waving his hand. Without time for your brain to process. Jason is there battered, bloodied, and bruised. The dazed look in his eyes made him look haunted which made your breath seize. A cocktail of anger and sadness and relief swelled in you as your body twitched forward. All you wanted to do was hold him, to stroke his hair, to sing to him, to take him to Dr.Thompkins to get his injuries sorted out, and possibly watch the old woman thwack him on the head half a dozen times. Hell, you would offer to count. Your stomach churned and you felt dizzy. This is the most alive you’ve felt in months. This is also the most fearful you’ve felt in months. You felt like you were going to fall apart and recongeal into an entirely new person. 

Focus. 

It was hard to do when you saw how tattered his Robin uniform looked but you managed to straighten yourself out enough in time to catch Hades as he watched you appraisingly, searching for raw desperation in your features. You tucked it away in your bones and in the deepest recesses of your chest. He seemed amused and even mildly impressed by your restraint so he dined to push further. 

“What are you willing to trade for him?”

Everything. 

Your mind screamed automatically. The word dangled thickly at the edge of your tongue. 

You would have plucked each and every star out of the sky and fashioned them into a necklace that would adorn Lady Persephone’s neck.

You would have used Poseidon’s ocean to douse the sun. 

You would have used the fires of Tartarus to set the world ablaze. It deserved it for the hand it dealt  Jason. 

You would do anything if it meant having Jason back in your arms. 

You bit your cheek hard forcing yourself to refocus. You shifted your posture making a show of thinking if only to gather yourself. You knew the answer. It might not have been the right one and if you’re being honest, it wasn’t even a good one. You rolled your shoulders trying to mold yourself into a more sure version of yourself.  

“My future,”

The room plunged into silence. 

Jason who had looked like he was not all there widened his eyes and shook his head at you. You simply leveled him a smile full of cocksure and hot air. Sure, your future wasn’t worth much. People have told you as much. But it was a novel offer. It wasn’t every day that a mortal offered their fate to you and gods love nothing more than novelty. 

Both gods remained silent. Hades narrowing his eyes at you and Persephone stared at you with an unreadable expression. The longer the silence wore on the more your confidence waned. The treacherous chorus in your head began to sing of the failure that has yet to happen. 

Persephone let out a trill of delighted laughter and Hades shook his head in amusement, his solemn lips twitching into the beginnings of a smile. Both you and Jason stiffened. 

“My love, just let them go,” Persephone pleaded sweetly cupping Hades’s face gently. It was an intimate gesture that made even you soft. 

“My dear…”

“It was not the boy’s time, my love,”

Damn straight, it wasn’t!

Hades let out an exasperated sigh before looking at you again. “I will grant you both freedom if you pass my trials,”

“Anything!” The word spilled out of you too quickly, too raw. A satisfied smile wrinkled at the corners of Hades’s eyes. Fucker. 

“I will have you do three trials-” He flicked his hand and Jason materialized beside you. “-with the boy’s aid,” Without an ounce of hesitation, you gathered him into your arms with all the bravado and restraint giving way too stupidly unfiltered happiness.  Without meaning to, you let fat droplets of tears streak your face. Jason copped your face giving you a wry smile and wiping away the tears with his thumb. 

“You look like shit,”

“So do you,”

You both laughed. You kissed his palm and took his hand from your face and kissed his knuckle. A flush crept on to Jason’s face but he couldn’t hide that any better than he could hide the loving look in his eyes when he looked into yours. 

The trials were almost insultingly easy especially when you had the world’s best Robin with you. Sure, you were battered and bruised but it was nothing you could not handle. You suspected that Persephone was rooting for you. That or Hades just wanted you out of his hair. Either way, you didn’t care. There was no way you were failing. 

You returned to Hades’ hall, arms full of spoils, and Jason’s hand interlaced with yours. You both try to fight off the hopeful feeling bubbling in your chest but there was no helping it when his hand was warm in yours. You smiled gratefully at Persephone who returned it in kind, looking sincerely happy for the both of you. You made a note to send her an appropriate sacrifice once you were back on the surface. 

Hades inspected your spoils and hummed. Your stomach lurched. Jason squeezed your hand and kissed your nose. Persephone practically squealed at the adorable gesture while Hades just smiled at his wife’s antics. 

“You have succeeded,”

“Thank you-”

“But I have one last trial for you,”

Hades holds up his hand before you could protest. 

“Do you recall the deal I made with Orpheus?”

You nodded almost numbly. Jason gave you a surprised look which you returned with a scowl. 

“Good. I will make the same deal with you. Does that sound fair to you?”

You both nodded frantically. You knew this would be hard especially with your frayed nerves but it was nothing you could not handle.

On the way to the tunnel, you held each other close, soaking up contact while you could. When you reached the tunnel, you hesitantly let go of his hand making sure to remember the feeling of your fingers intertwined together. He pressed kisses to every inch of your face likely feeling guilty over your haggard state. You whispered jokes and half baked promises to appease him in return as you squeezed him harder.  You walked tensely up the tunnel trailed by his ever quieting footsteps. You began to hum every song you could think of including the very annoying ones which earned you a lot of annoyed grunts and critiques from your ghostly companion. You also chattered about everything you could think of. All the latest gossip. All the things you learned during your global crime spree. You may have left out the crime spree but you could deal with the fall out later. Instead, you focused on the happy things. The things you wanted to do with him once you two got out. Once, you brought him back to Gotham. Sure, Bruce was probably going to maul you for all the trouble you’ve caused the JLA but fuck them.  Seriously fuck them. 

After what felt like an eternity, you saw it. You saw light. Bright, crisp, and blinding. You were going to cry. You were almost there. You were almost out. Your body launched into a sprint. Your chest felt like something in it shook loose and your body was lighter than it had ever been. You were almost there. You could almost feel the sun on your skin. 

You ran into the light and -

——————————————————————————————————————————-  

You woke up on the damp earth. 

Everything ached. 

Your veins felt rusty and sluggish. 

Your mind even more so. 

Snow flitted down to the earth in gentle feathery flakes. 

Your senses returned to you one by one. 

The sound of shouting and car horns littered the periphery of your consciousness. 

Your fingers felt cold and numb. 

The familiar smell and taste of Gotham smog overwhelmed your senses. 

That wasn’t right. 

That wasn’t right at all. You were in Mani in southern Peloponnese. You were face to face with one of the Gates of Hades just a few hours ago. 

You shuffled through your coat. You did not have your drachma. You did not have your map.

You snapped your head in every direction looking desperately for any sign of Jason. Not even a single footprint. 

Your stomach dropped as despair took hold of you and clung to every bone in your body. Pulling yourself up unsteadily, you stood taking baby steps towards a thoroughly battered brick wall. Fishing your phone out of your pocket, your phone began dialing a number automatically. 

“You have reached Wayne Manor,” Alfred’s posh voice carries over the phone. 

Your breath stutters. The words claw their way out of your chest.

“Jason- Jason, he-”

Alfred remained silent. Alfred was likely shaking his head in pity. You couldn’t stand that. You could barely stand the feeling of your skin right now. Your resounding failure rippled underneath your skin making you tremble on to your knees. You could do nothing but crumple to the ground in pathetic sobs as the weight of agony and despair weighed over you. 

“Jason. Jason. Jason.”

You whispered apologetically, reverently. The words would not call him back. Those words could never call him back. 

—————————————————————————————————————————–

Piece by piece Jason returned to himself. 

Jason woke up swallowed in darkness. It was deep and unyielding. Even his training with Batman could not alleviate the anxiety that brought. 

The second thing to return was his hearing. It was deathly silent save for the pounding of his own heart and his frantic breathing. 

 Where was he?

The air around him tasted stale and the resolute smell of formaldehyde was inescapable. 

Then the pain lanced through and all his memories came back in a splotchy kaleidoscope of fear, fire, and pain.

  He was dead. 

  He died. 

  He was in Ethiopia. 

  He was trying to save his mom. 

  Oh god. 

  Oh god. 

  Oh god. 

  Where is Bruce? 

  Where is he? 

  Why is it so dark? 

  Jason tried to move his limbs but it was no use. He was boxed in. 

  That’s when the smell of earth hit him. 

  Jason pressed his hands every which way. 

  He was literally boxed in. 

  Was he in a coffin?

  He tried to scream. 

  His mouth was wired shut. 

  Oh god. 

  Oh god.

  Oh god. 

  He was going to die.  

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

The ending was a bit rushed. I might edit it later. Thank you so much for reading. Feel free to roast me in the comments. 

(Note: I tried editing the ending to make it more panicky and claustrophobic. I don’t know if t worked.)

This was inspired by the fact that Jason Todd: Not-So-Outlaw by goawayolivia never answers how Jason came back. 

Here is my answer. It is pure dumbassery.

taglist: 

@birdy-bat-writes (enabler)

@idkmanicantenglish (sweet heart)

@batarella (Because I honestly blame you for this)

@multifandomgirl-us

@foenixphire

#jason todd x reader #jason todd imagine #Jason Todd #angst #My writing #attempts at humor #dc fanfiction #reader insert #imagine #hurt/comfort #kind of #more on hurt #have fun #batboys #batkids

[angst-fairygodmother]

Idiot (Affectionate) ~ A Bad Samaritan Fic

CHAPTER FOUR: MAYBE

Pairing: Derek Sandoval x (fem)Reader Word Count: 3388 Rating: M - drinking/alcohol, making out, foreplay? (it’s not smut...but it almost is), canon-typical language, brief non-graphic reference to vomit A/N: aka how many near-misses and almost kisses can these two have Hopefully it’s not unclear, skips vs breaks...

Previous Chapter | Masterlist

“When did those two get together?” Riley asked, gesturing toward where Derek and Y/N sat facing each other on the floor, engaged in some sort of fierce, silent contest.

“They’re not,” Sean said with a shrug, so used to the pair pulling off on their own that he didn’t even notice anymore. He didn’t bother to mention that the only reason they weren’t was because they were both too stubborn to be the first to crack and admit it. 

“With the amount of eye-fucking going on over there, are you sure there’s not…”

“Lalala!” Sean cried, slapping his hands over his ears and making a face of disgust.

~

You glanced up, puzzled, as you heard your cousin’s exclamation. He was sitting with Riley, curled up together, being disgustingly cute. Only she had apparently said something he didn’t want to hear, and he was being childish about it.

“I told you I’d win,” Derek crowed.

“That’s not fair!” you whined, turning your attention back to him.

“You lost bro, just admit I’m right.”

“No. I’m not gonna do that. A staring contest doesn’t even make sense to settle this. Also Qui-Gon was objectively a better jedi than Obi Wan and that’s not debatable.” You punctuated your words by tapping the back of your knuckles in the curled palm of the other hand.

“You just like him better because he’s Irish. I can’t believe you’re defending the prequels,” he shook his head, as if ashamed of you. “Next you’re going to say that Anakin and Padme made sense!”

“No. Of course not! Young, hot, bearded Ewan McGregor was right there! Anakin had to turn evil before he got sexy.” You fought back a grin as your argument got more passionate.

“Let’s settle this with an arm wrestle,” he stated, face impassive and serious.

“What is that going to prove?” you voice rose an octave with your confusion and disbelief. 

“Nothin,” he said, dropping his voice low. “Maybe I just want an excuse to hold your hand again.”

You felt your face growing flushed and warm under the intensity of his smolder. 

“Smooth,” you muttered begrudgingly, not wanting to stroke his ego too much. “Fine. Clear the coffee table.”

~

“Are they arguing about Star Wars?” Riley asked incredulously, and Sean shrugged. He hadn’t realized how long it had been since the four of them spent any real time together, but this was the first she was witnessing the new, bizarre friendship between Derek and Y/N. 

“For now. They’ll cycle through at least four more topics before they come up for air. This one’s pop culture so the next should be…” he tapped his chin, thinking. “Health care reform? Which they agree on but find ways to shout anyway.”

As if on cue, the back of Derek’s hand slapped the coffee table, defeated, and Y/N started in on a furious rant about how incarcerating addicts and forcing them to quit was like slapping a bandaid onto someone who’d been impaled. 

“Looks like you had the wrong topic,” Riley said, eyebrows knitted in confusion. “But you were close. Do they...do this often?”

“Argue? All the time.” Sean shrugged. It never really meant anything. 

“So, how are we going to get them together?”

“No.” He took stock of the stubborn look on her face and grimaced. “Riley, no. I am not meddling.”

“Then you don’t have to,” she looked smug. “I will.”

-------

Seeing you coming, plates in hand, Derek rushed to hold open the door. You nodded in thanks, a small smile on your face.

“No one’s eating the carbonara tonight, bring the boys some carbonara,” you said, doing your best impression of Nino.

“I feel like we should be insulted that Nino only feeds us the food he thinks is going to waste,” Sean observed, accepting one of the plates.

“If you want to complain about free food, dawg, be my guest, but I am just going to be grateful for it, and our smokin’ waitress bringin it out to us,” Derek winked at you as he spoke, taking the other plate, and you rolled your eyes. 

“You know, the rest of us have to go to the kitchen if we want to eat, but you lucky ducks,” you shook your fist playfully and rolled your eyes, “get waited on.”

“And we appreciate it, Y/N,” Sean said earnestly. “You know we do.”

“If you’re not careful, I’ll start expecting a tip for this.”

Derek smirked, despite the pasta shoveled into his mouth, and looked like he was about to say something.

“Don’t,” Sean warned him, looking weary.

“If whatever you’re about to say is an innuendo, it dies or you do,” you scolded.

Derek stuck out his lower lip and pouted. 

“Nino also said to tell you to prepare for a rush in about fifteen, and then you can clock out early. One of the sous chefs got sick everywhere so we have to shut down the kitchen. Your plates were among the last to make it out alive.”

“Has he got the flu or something?” Sean asked, casting a suspicious eye at his dinner anyway.

You rolled your eyes. “No. But did you hear that whiskey’s a clear liquor now? Nino’s not impressed by the magic trick.”

Derek laughed. “How stupid can you get? Call Riley up, dawg. Let’s do something.”

“He has a point,” you said, shrugging. “As much as it pains me to say.”

“Like what?” Sean asked skeptically.

“We’re young and gorgeous, well most of us are,” you smirked and made a so-so gesture at Derek, “and it’s a Friday night in Portland. I’m sure we can find something to do.”

You glanced down at your outfit. “When you call Riley, see if she’s got something less...uniform-y I can borrow?”

~

“When I said not my uniform, I expected to still be wearing clothes…” you hissed, holding up the dress Riley had brought you skeptically. It was so short and so low cut, you weren’t sure it wasn’t split completely down the middle. 

“It’ll look great on you, Y/N, trust me,” she implored, ushering you toward one of the stalls to change. “And I guarantee a certain someone won’t be able to take his eyes off you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you grumbled, cheeks flushing hotly, giving in to her persuasion. 

A few minutes later, the pair of you were walking back out of the restaurant, and you shivered as the evening air hit your exposed skin.

“Well, shall we get going?” you asked, catching Derek and Sean’s attention. 

Derek’s jaw dropped as he turned and caught sight of you, in a way that would have been comedic if it had been directed at anyone else. 

“You’re staring,” Sean hissed through clenched teeth after a moment of awkward silence.

“Uh, yeah I am. Daaamn,” Derek muttered, looking you up and down appreciatively and letting out a low whistle.

You almost turned on the spot and fled, maybe back inside to change or maybe across the country to assume a new identity you weren’t quite sure, but Riley’s hand on your back stopped you. 

“This is a...different look, for both of you,” Sean observed, choosing his words very carefully. “It’s good,” he leaned in toward Riley with a smirk, “really good.”

You rolled your eyes dramatically as the two of them met in a kiss, thankfully only brief, before cuddling into each other as all four of you started walking. You fell into easy step with Derek behind your cousin and his girlfriend. 

“They’re insufferably cute together,” you muttered, making him laugh. 

“D’ya think maybe you’re jealous?” he teased.

“Of Sean?” you pretended to think it over before shrugging. “Not really. I mean Riley’s pretty but she’s not really my type.”

“I meant cus they’ve got someone. Ya know, to be cute and shit with.”

“Is that something couples do when they’ve been together a long time? They shit together?” You fought to keep a straight face long enough to deliver your question.

His face screwed up with disgust even as he laughed. “That’s not what I meant! You know it’s not!”

“Do I? You seem to think you know a lot about what I know.”

“Alright, I get it. I know when my question’s bein dodged. I can take a hint.”

“Not all of them,” you muttered under your breath, before flashing him a smile and changing the topic for the rest of the walk. 

~

“A gorgeous creature like you shouldn’t languish by the bar,” the goateed hipster said, laying on the alleged charm heavy, and you fought a roll of your eyes. “You should be dancing.”

“Maybe I’m waiting for the right partner,” you shot back, leaning away from him as he leaned in, closer than he needed to be to be heard.

“So do you want to dance?”

“Nope. I’m still waiting.” You collected the drink that had just been served to you, waiting to see if he was clueless. 

“What?” he frowned in confusion. 

“I’m not interested in you,” you whispered dramatically, as if you were revealing some great secret to him.

“Whatever,” he scoffed, moving on down the bar to the next girl. 

~

Derek watched the exchange from the booth, glowering and trying not to grip his beer too tight. Sean shook his head, leaning over to his friend.

“He’s not her type,” your cousin said, making his best friend frown. “Don’t be stupid tonight, Derek.” 

It was the closest Sean had come to giving his friend advice when it came to you, and the most reassuring thing he could have done. It wasn’t quite approval, but it was enough to tell Derek that pursuing the girl he wanted wasn’t going to cost him their friendship. 

When you returned to the table, Derek impulsively caught your wrist lightly as you set your drink down.

“Dance?” he asked, tilting his head. 

You were grateful for the low lights around you so he couldn’t see your facial expression, and you couldn’t see Sean and Riley’s.

“I’d love to,” you smiled, biting your lip. 

“Perfect,” he breathed, sliding out and leading you out onto the floor. 

As soon as you found a spot in the crowd, it was like a switch flipped. There was no awkwardness, no questions or doubts, just the two of you, moving together. If someone had asked you about it later, you would say it was the alcohol that made you drape your arms around his neck loosely, made you press close as his hands circled your waist.  His hips shimmied and swayed, clearly not his first rodeo, and you couldn't help tracing the patterns they drew in the air as you tried your best to keep up.

A hideously pop-y song started and you rolled your eyes, inclined normally to abandon the dance floor until something else came on. And then you realized that Derek was singing along, his voice rumbling through you where your chests touched. His eyes bore down into yours, like every lyric was meant for you, and somehow they immediately became your favorite. 

“Is there anything you can’t do?” you mused, as you both paused later to get another drink and catch your breath, leaning close together on the bar.

“What do you mean?” he asked. 

“You sing, you clearly know how to dance based on those moves. You managed to make me...not hate that song. Plus you’ve got that whole sweet, funny, charming thing…you’re kind of the whole, perfect package...” you grumbled sulkily.

“I don’t know how to juggle?” he offered, smiling.

You snapped your fingers. “Well damn. That’s a dealbreaker. Guess you don’t have a shot after all.”

Just then your drink arrived and you accepted it gratefully, marvelling at the bartender’s perfect timing for the second time that evening. Holding eye contact with Derek, you smirked slightly, sipping your cocktail through the straw, and then turned to head back over to Sean and Riley.

“Wait, what’d you just say?” he said, chasing after you despite having not gotten his own drink yet.

“I think you heard me.

“So if I knew how to juggle…”

“Maybe I might let you do more than make up lame excuses to hold my hand,” you leaned to purr the words in his ear, pausing long enough that if he just turned his head your lips would collide. 

But he didn't turn. He froze, considering the implication of your statement, watching your retreating back (wonderfully sexily bare in that dress). Then he went back to the bar and pulled out his phone while he waited for his beer, typing into the search bar ‘easy juggling tutorials.’

-------

“I’m a moron,” you moaned, throwing your arm across your face. “I’m a failure.”

You let your memo slip from the other hand and flutter to the floor beside Derek. He picked it up, trying to ignore the scant inches between your faces as you hung off the side of your bed dramatically.

“Girl, this says you got a C. That’s not failing,” he pointed out, eyes skimming the myriad of red ink marks. 

“Do you know what a C means in law school, Derek? It means, ‘your work is shit, and we gave you pity points to keep you from dragging the class average down.’” You sighed. “I should just drop out. I could probably become a fishmonger. I don't know what they do but it's probably not write research memos.”

“I got you a job in the feesh factory.” he said in an exaggerated (and terrible) Russian accent.

You lowered your arm to peer incredulously at him.

“It was the first thing that came to mind, thought it would cut the tension,” he said with a shrug.

“Did you just...you’re trying to cheer me up by quoting a Disney movie at me. In my time of crisis?”

“Technically Anastasia’s not owned by The Mouse.”

“You’re adorable.” You drawled. 

Color crept over him, staining the tips of his ears pink. You studied him carefully, and eventually he squirmed under the scrutiny.

“It was my sister’s favorite movie, so we watched it a lot. Stop judging.”

“Not judging. Yet. You have some knowledge, apparently, but the real test: The Genie or Batty?” 

“That’s a joke right?”

You rolled over onto your stomach, propping your chin on your hands as you waited for an answer.

“Ferngully was the real shit. I could probably still do the rap if I tried.”

“Okay.” You looked at him expectantly and he frowned. 

“What?”

“Go on then. Sing it.” You gestured toward the center of the room with one hand, like it was a stage you were directing it toward.

“Do you have the music? I can’t sing without accompaniment.” 

“Who do you take me for?” you asked, smiling and pulling up the karaoke track version on your phone. 

A minute later, you paused it, cutting him short with a click of your tongue.

“That’s not how it goes,” you said certainly. 

“Yes it is,” he argued.

“No. The next lyric is ‘vivisectified and fed pesticides.’ You skipped part of it.”

“It is not! Just cus your big lawyer brain has some weird thing where you have to add fancy words to understand somethin…”

“How dare you!” you gasped, scandalized. 

You continued to argue back and forth and around in circles for several minutes, neither of you willing to stand down. At some point, you had pushed yourself up, kneeling on the bed to tower over his still sitting form on the floor. Then he stood up, making him the taller one again. Your faces were so close you could practically feel each other’s breath as you devolved into “Did not!” “Did too!”

Suddenly, you gave into nearly omnipresent impulse, grabbing him by the edges of his half-zipped hoodie and dragging him closer, closing the distance between you. You didn’t give yourself even a second to think, or overthink, and crashed your lips together. He made a muffled, confused noise, before meeting your fervor, reaching up to cradle the back of your neck in his hand and holding you close. 

“Are you going to admit I’m right?” you muttered teasingly when you broke apart a moment later. 

“Yeah,” he breathed, eyes fluttering open and clearly not fully processing what you had even said. 

“Good,” you answered, kissing him again before he could reconsider. 

His free arm wrapped around your lower back, and you slid yours up across his shoulders lazily. As your kiss was deepening, you felt the world tilting, the pair of you falling backwards onto the bed. You gasped, mouth opening and giving him the opportunity to slip his tongue inside. Like everything else between you, it became a battle, as you pushed back and twined together. One of your legs hooked around his. His hand on your back began to explore, sliding out from under you to toy at the hem of your shirt. 

You drew back, head pressing into the pillow to look at him. His pupils were blown wide, parted lips kiss-swollen and red. His entire expression burned with desire that you were pretty sure was reflected back on your own face. 

“Fuck it,” you breathed, reaching down to tug the garment over your head. 

“Shit…” he whined, looking down at your bare chest, swallowing nervously.

“You don’t have to just look,” you offered, suddenly nervous at being so vulnerable beneath him. 

“But I wanna look, just for a sec. You're...I've never seen someone so beautiful.” 

“You're just saying that cus I got my tits out.”

“No,” he shook his head. “No I'm not.”

You felt your face heating and fought the urge to cover yourself back up. He bent to kiss you again hungrily, the hand at your neck fluttering downward, tracing the slope of your neck and curve of your collarbone before sliding over your breast. He squeezed softly, as if testing the waters and you bit back a moan, and then he began to massage and knead it. 

He drew back again, leaving you panting as he tossed aside his jacket and shirt, kicking off his shoes and shifting so you were both more comfortably centered on the bed.

“Derek,” you whined impatiently when you caught him staring again.

He looked down at you, surprised by the sound, and you cocked an eyebrow. He answered with a smirk and then his face disappeared between the mounds of your chest, kissing a trail along your sternum, circling under first one and then the other. He was teasing you, and it felt like bliss. 

It wasn’t long before he had you writhing beneath him, gasping out his name and the occasional explicative in time with each pass of his lips over your nipples, sucking and nipping at them at seemingly random. Your head felt fuzzy and you could feel the gathering fire at your core.

You toyed with the waistband of his boxers, thinking about how little now separated the two of you, how maybe it wouldn’t be a bad thing to remove those barriers. After all. You knew Derek. You were attracted to Derek. You trusted Derek to take good care of you, to do what you wanted and only that. And you wanted him to do so much. 

Before you could reach a decision, your phone started going off, humming distractingly across the floorboards where it had fallen.

He sighed as you groped blindly around for it, not wanting to move out from under him for fear that it would break whatever spell you were in.

“I’ll just turn that off and…” you promised, sheepish smile morphing to an expression of panic when you saw that it was Riley calling. 

“Fuck! It’s Thursday! I was supposed to meet her for coffee twenty minutes ago,” you groaned.

“I’m not going to be able to convince you to play hooky, am I?” he asked, defeated. 

“I’m sorry…” you grimaced.

“Rain check then?”

“I don’t think it works like that. But...maybe,” you answered, tone making it clear that maybe didn’t mean maybe.

He laughed, rolling off of you and sitting up to find his clothes.

~

“Vivesectified,” you whispered in his ear, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek at the doorstep, bouncing away down the steps before he could retaliate.

#am I witty? I don't know but I try #technically could have been 3 separate things #but I smashed them all together for you #since there are reoccurring themes and also I could slow burn this for 100 years or I can move onward #I also could have just kept one and relegated the others to the scrap heap but they've got cute bits #I like cute bits #Idiot (Affectionate) #Derek Sandoval x reader #Bad Samaritan fic

[scoopsgf]

for a prompt peter meets the rouge avengers and they witness irondad at it's finest

It’s half past two in the morning when Peter’s ears perk at the sound of an old-fashioned, peppy ringtone.

He looks around in search of it. There’s Tony passed out at his workbench, face dangerously close to a slice of plated cold pizza; DUM-E is rolling around a few feet away chasing after a crumpled ball of paper Peter had tossed over his shoulder; there are tools scattered everywhere and blueprints and a whiteboard covered in equations.

But no phone.

Peter slips off his stool. He walks toward the sound, slowly, cautiously, and by the time he thinks he’s located the source the ringing stops.

Peter stares at Tony’s discarded running jacket. Throwing him a quick glance over his shoulder just to make sure the older man is still asleep, he reaches into the pocket and pulls out an old flip phone.

“What,” he deadpans, to absolutely no one.

Tony Stark, the former CEO of the world’s largest tech conglomerate. Tony Stark, creator of the most powerful mechanical weapon—sorry, prosthetic—of all time…

Is carrying around a dinky Nokia from 2009.

A Nokia which promptly starts ringing again (very loudly). “Shit!” Peter swears, jumping. On instinct he answers it. “Hello? What? Hello?”

“Tony?”

Peter glances at Tony again. He bites his lip. “Tony is unfortunately unavailable at the moment. I’m his… personal assistant. Would you like to leave a message?”

“Oh, uh,” there’s some muffled muttering on the other end, like the caller is relaying Peter’s words back to someone else, and then, “I uh—it’s kind of an emergency. Would you mind asking him if he’s got a minute to talk?”

And by now, Peter’s totally put the pieces together: crappy old phone, the voice—he is absolutely 100% having a real life conversation with Steve Rogers.

Again.

Peter doesn’t exactly know the full story between Tony and Steve. He just knows that whenever anyone brings up Rogers, Tony’s face darkens and he clams up.

Squinting at Tony, he asks, “Are you sure you need to talk to him?”

“Believe me, I wouldn’t have called otherwise.”

“But if you had, maybe, some other form of assistance? Say a web-slinging vigilante from Queens?”

There’s a pause.

Steve says, “Hey, kid,” with a smile in his voice.

“Hey Brooklyn,” Peter returns. “Long time, no speak.”

“Yeah, well, you know. So you’re working for Tony now?”

“I wouldn’t call it working so much as slave labour.”

A laugh. “Somehow I doubt that. What’s he doing?”

“Sleeping—which, y’know, he barely gets enough of as it is. So what’s the situation?”

-

“Nice disguise.”

Natasha Romanoff looks up from the paper kid’s menu she’d been studying. Her eyebrow, dyed blonde, is raised. “I was worried it’d be too effective.”

“You do realise Buzzfeed publishes weekly articles that are literally just blurry photos of you and the other rogues followed by a bunch of keysmashes?”

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Peter slides into the booth opposite her. “So you’re here to what, feel me out?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, I’ve already done that.” She sets the menu down. “I was already in the area. We’re both waiting for the ride.”

Peter nods. He looks out the window while she studies his face. He’d had no choice but to forego the mask seeing as his suit is still under repairs back in the lab. FRIDAY had said it wouldn’t be fixed until morning.

Natasha kicks his foot. “Why do you look younger than I remember?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs. “But hey, since we’re playing Q&A, why’d you stab Tony in the back?”

“I didn’t stab him in the back,” Romanoff argues. “I just… the Avengers are my family—”

“Tony’s part of the Avengers—”

“Tony has a support system. Steve is nothing without us—and I say that with love. Without his team he’d just be a sad old man stuck in time.”

“But now with you and your amazing makeover skills, he’s at least caught up to the seventies with that beard.”

She kicks him again. “Shut up. I don’t have to explain my reasoning to a kid.”

“So why are you?”

Romanoff squints and leans forward. “Why are you here?”

“Because if Tony knew that you needed help, he’d stop at nothing to save you no matter how much he hated your guts—which he doesn’t, by the way, he’s just really hurt—even if it meant putting his own life in danger. I don’t want that.” Peter shrugs. “Plus you were pretty cool last time and I thought we could be, I don’t know, friends or something. Whatever, it’s stupid.”

Her lip quirks up. “It’s not stupid.”

“Really? So you’ll be my spider buddy?”

Natasha rolls her eyes. “Think of a better name first and then we’ll see.”

He opens his mouth to retort, but right at that moment the door to the Taco Bell chimes and Steve Rogers walks in.

“Oh wow,” Peter whispers. “The beard really does work for him.”

“Right?” She grabs his arm. “Come on, little spinner.”

—

Steve is not at all pleased at how young Peter is.

“I dropped a jet rail on a kid,” he proclaims for the upteenth time, knuckles white around the steering wheel.

“Yeah, a kid that can lift fifteen tons on a bad day,” Peter snaps back, a little irritated now. He finishes strapping on the kevlar gear Natasha had provided him with. It’s bulkier than what he’s used to, but better than no protection at all.

“I dropped a jet rail on a kid.”

Natasha reaches out. “Steve—”

“I DROPPED A JET RAIL ON A KID!”

“I’m FINE!” Peter shouts back, the only one in the van besides Barnes that doesn’t flinch.

“You’re eight!” Steve retorts. “You don’t even know what fine is!”

Peter closes his eyes. “Oh my god.”

“Steve, he’s enhanced,” Natasha reminds him, the only voice of reason. “Tony never would have brought him if he didn’t think Parker could handle it—”

Peter’s eyes snap back open. “How do you know my last name?”

“What did I say about how I’d already felt you out?”

“That sounds… so much worse than the way you mean it.”

“See?” Natasha pats Steve’s arm. “He’s already making dirty jokes. He’s fine.”

Steve is silent for a few seconds. Then he shakes his head. “We have to take him back.”

“What?!” Peter demands. “No! You need my help!”

“I need Tony’s help!”

“I can literally do anything Tony can,” Peter proclaims, and then pauses. “Probably.”

“That’s real reassuring,” Wilson pipes up from a few feet over.

“No one asked you,” Romanoff hisses.

Wilson rolls his eyes. “I’m just saying, Steve’s got a point. Look at this little twink. Have you seen him? He’s like two feet big.”

“I’m literally sitting right here,” Peter says. “And I wasn’t kidding when I said I can lift fifteen tons.”

“No,” Steve decides. “You’re too small.”

“Oh, are you shitting me?!” Barnes explodes. “Steve, you were a five foot tall asthmatic when you enlisted!”

“That was a different time!”

“It’s just a little stealth mission,” Barnes says. “The kid can pin my arm down. Even you can’t do that.”

Steve frowns. “You can pin his arm down?”

Peter takes a deep breath. “I’ll say it one more time: fifteen tons.”

Another pause.

“Fine,” Steve says. “Fine, Jesus Christ. But if he dies—”

“You’ll blame yourself like you always do,” Natasha finishes for him with a dry look.

Rogers sighs. “Yeah. Probably.”

—

Tony jolts awake at precisely four AM.

The first thing he sees is pizza.

It’s two inches from his face and disgustingly congealed. He pushes it away as he raises his head, and then notices a second thing: Peter is gone.

“Um… FRIDAY?”

“Yes Boss?”

“Where’s the kid?”

“He left approximately two and a half hours ago on urgent business.”

Tony’s eyes narrow. That stinks. Like, a lot. “Urgent business? He’s twelve.”

“I was only able to catch his half of the phone conversation—”

“Oh, well then just trace the call or whatever.”

“I’m afraid the phone he used isn’t advanced enough for that.”

Tony stiffens. He doesn’t want to look, but turns around anyway, eyeing his jacket. Slowly he grabs it and feels around in the pockets. “It’s gone.”

“What’s gone?”

“What do you think?! The phone! The little rectangular piece of garbage Rogers FedExed to me with the worst apology note of all time!”

“Oh, that.”

Tony freezes. His eyes close briefly. Then they seek out the nearest of FRIDAY’s cameras. “You didn’t wake me up, darling.”

“No,” she replies, almost sheepish.

“Whyever not?”

“Peter and I both agreed that the best thing for you would be for you to sleep as long as possible—”

“I don’t CARE what’s best for ME!”

He takes a minute to fume. Then he starts moving. “Is he wearing his watch?”

“Yes, Boss.”

“Fantastic, showstopping, incredible,” Tony slaps the housing unit on his chest. “Open the pod bay doors, would you?”

—

Peter is kind of kicking ass.

Like, not to brag or anything, but he’s taken down six HYDRA agents so far and for once hasn’t had to ask for help. He’s holding his own.

Maybe it’s something to do with being part of a whole unit. They move around each other, they fight as one; there’s a boost to the normal amount of adrenaline Peter feels in the midst of a fight. He knows that if he gets kneed in the chest and goes down for a second, Barnes is gonna swoop in and break a jaw with his metal arm. Likewise, Wilson knows that if he gets thrown back into the wall with that weird glowy laser gun, Peter is gonna web the HYDRA soldier up and subdue the threat.

It’s… kind of awesome.

They’ve split up, for the most part. Maximoff, Rogers, and Romanoff are working through the east wing while Peter, Barnes, and Wilson slowly carve their way through the west.

“Could use a little bit of backup,” Wanda says through the comms, in a rasping, out of breath voice.

Peter taps his ear. “Where are you?”

“Second floor, third room,” she reports.

Peter doesn’t waste any time. He shoots a web for the roof of the atrium and swings across the wide open space that separates the two halves of the building. He’d calculated the distance just right and hurtles straight into Wanda’s attacker.

“Thanks,” she huffs.

Peter shrugs, wiping Dilapidated Building Dust off of his suit. “Hey, no problem.”

“You know, they’re all hypocrites.”

Peter pauses. “What?”

“I was nineteen when we went to Germany. My powers just happened to be more convenient for their needs.”

“I, uh—oh.”

She slips past him. “I’m not saying they’re not good people. I’m just saying that when it comes to winning, sometimes morality goes out the window. In that way… Sometimes I think Stark might have had the right of it.”

Before he can really process that, Peter reaches out and grabs her wrist. She scowls. “What?”

“Two agents, twenty feet away and gaining.”

“How can you tell?”

“Heartbeats.”

To his surprise, she grins. “I’m not going to lie, that would come in handy a lot with the work we do.”

“Well, you know where to find me. Wanna trip em Suite Life style?”

“What?”

“Nothing, just follow my lead.”

—

When Rogers’ fist collides with the last agent in the base, and Peter and Romanoff have extracted all of the information she needed off of HYDRA’s underground databases, Wilson says, “Do your thing, Wanda.”

She nods. “Everyone clear out.”

Peter doesn’t question it too much. He follows Barnes’ lead outside. The base, disguised as a factory, is in the middle of the Jersey woods—so there’s no one around to watch Wanda’s hands glow red and for the building to collapse inward.

“Cool,” Peter breathes.

“Destroying buildings can be fun when it’s on purpose,” Wanda tells him, somewhat bitterly.

Peter frowns. “That wasn’t your fault.”

“Tell that to Stark.”

“He doesn’t think—”

“Tell me what?”

Peter’s blood runs cold. He doesn’t want to turn around, but he does anyway; slowly so as to delay his inevitable demise. Tony is hovering about feet behind them all with his faceplate down.

“Oh,” he says stupidly. “Hey.”

The plate lifts.

Tony does not look happy.

“Hello.”

“It’s uh… fancy seeing you here?”

“Oh, don’t try to be cute with me.” Tony drops down onto the ground. “How about you save me the heart attack by telling me what in God’s name you’re doing out in the middle of nowhere at four in the fucking morning—and you left with them of all people when I specifically asked you not to!”

Peter opens his mouth. Then he closes it and averts his eyes. “They needed… help.”

“Oh, they needed help,” Tony shakes his head. “You need help. Psychiatric help.”

“Hey, lay off the kid man,” Wilson pipes up. “He was just—”

“Excuse me?” Tony puts a hand to his ear. “What? I must be mishearing, it sounded like you were butting into a conversation that has nothing to do with you by defending the poor decision making of a sixteen year old kid who has a math test in four hours!”

Peter blinks. He’d forgotten about that. “Okay, you’ve got a point there—however, I’d like to present to the jury evidence piece six-hundred and five: my completely uninjured body!”

Tony opens his mouth. Then it snaps shut again. Opens again; “Just wait until Aunt May hears about this.”

Peter’s eyes widen. “Are you crazy?! She’ll kill us both!”

Tony hesitates. “You might have a point—but that doesn’t change the fact that this was incredibly reckless and stupid! You can’t just run off willynilly without even informing your parents—”

“Willynilly?” Peter interrupts, instead of PARENTS?!

“Enough! You’re grounded!”

Natasha steps forward. “Tony—”

“From what,” Peter challenges, ignoring her.

Tony sputters. “Uh, your suit, Karen, TV, that board game—”

“Don’t pretend like you don’t know what Dungeons and Dragons is called.”

“The name of the game is irrelevant,” Tony snaps. “Two weeks. Maybe three if you piss me off any more on the way home.”

“Don’t tell me you expect me to like, latch onto your suit.”

“And put you in more danger?! Fuck no! Happy’s waiting in the SUV.”

Peter sighs. He turns to the others. “Well, it’s been fun. Thanks.”

Steve Rogers blinks. “Uh, yeah. You did good, kid.”

Tony holds up a hand as Peter tries to pass him. He’s squinting at Steve, but seems to decide he doesn’t want to speak to the other man. He zeroes in on Natasha. “He did good?”

“Damn good,” she replies. “We could use him.”

Tony throws his head back and laughs. “Fucking hilarious! Think again! I swear to God, if I catch any of you heathens near my kid again and you’ll be dead before my feet hit the ground. Kid, go to the car.”

“Tony—”

“No. Car.”

—

“What the hell, Rogers.”

“Tony—”

“No! This is not the part where you speak.” Tony takes a second to remember to breathe because his heart is still pounding and there’s red on the edges of his vision. “I meant what I said. Stay away from my kid.”

“Tony, he’s stronger than you’re giving him credit for—”

“Nope! Nope! No!” Tony blasts off before he has to listen to any more.

—

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Peter meets Happy’s eyes through the rear view mirror. Glaring, he slowly buckles his seatbelt.

“That’s more like it. So, did you have fun?”

Peter slouches. “Am I even allowed to say yes?”

“No.” Happy shrugs. “But hey, if it’s any consolation—”

Peter never gets his consolation; the car door swings open and Tony slips inside. Before he can even get a word in, he’s being pulled into Tony’s arms. The older man’s heart is hammering against his chest.

“Kid—”

“I’m sorry,” Peter blurts. “Really. I know I shouldn’t have gone, I just… I wanted to help.”

“I know.”

He breathes out. “They didn’t mean to—”

“Leave them out of it.”

“But I went along with it—”

“Peter,” Tony says, and then sighs. “Just… that can’t happen again, okay? Promise me?”

Peter wishes he meant it when he says, “Yeah, I-I promise.”

The drive home is quiet, but Tony lets Peter fall asleep on his shoulder, and when they get back to New York they stop at his school so he’s not late for his test.

And everyone sees who’s in the car when Peter gets out.

Kind of makes up for being grounded, if you ask him.

#asks #anon #marvel #irondad #tony stark #peter parker #prompts #rogue avengers #fanfiction #my writing #natasha romanoff #steve rogers #no bashing here folks!!! #this is me trying to write something unique and absolutely failing #oops

[raphaelshusband]

you are beautiful | saphael one shot

"Are you afraid?" He asked, brushing his thumb over the back of his hand.

"A little" Raphael swallowed. His eyes wandered around the room. His fingers tightened on Simon's hand. "I mean.. I am afraid of complications.. or that it will be worse than it is.."

"It will be all right," Lewis's hand reached the Mexican's hair and began to gently ruffle it. "I will be with you."

"You can not.."

"Mentally" he cut in on his word. The drugs slowly started working, Santiago felt more and more intoxicated. He heard the door open.

"Ready?" The doctor's voice rang out, and he quickly switched to "you."

"Yes.. I think so.."

"Wonderful" moments later, he was on his way to the room, Simon still didn't let go of his hand. Raphael heard the soft clatter of Simon's boots. Then he felt a gentle kiss on the back of his hand.

"Good luck," Simon whispered.

***

The coffee from the hospital vending machine looked like tar, it tasted like cardboard, but he needed caffeine to keep himself awake. It has now been three hours since Raphael has disappeared through the door of the operating room.

The Mexican was blind. He lost his eyesight at a very young age. His mother fell ill when he was still a teenager. Not long after his sixteenth birthday, she left him with her brothers and sister. They met in the most ordinary way. The older boy was hanging out in the park with his sister. They were both sitting on the end, leaning against a tree trunk. They had their hands clasped together, which at first made him think they were a couple. The girl then told him what was happening in the park, what it all looked like. The blurry eyes of the boy who stared at one point told him everything.

Simon Lewis, on the other hand, was a very social person, he decided to talk. They were both very friendly, however Raphael showed shyness. They became friends quickly, ended up being best friends.

And it was the younger man who took the first step. At the end of the school year, he went to pick up his friend from school. It was he who escorted him home, holding him under the elbow and telling him which way to go and whether he should be careful, because he was about to fall into a pole. Santiago's family did not have enough money for a walking stick, let alone a guide dog.

It was Simon who stopped in front of his house and confessed his love to him. It was he who caused Raphael to tears. When he went to college, they moved to their own little apartment, and on his twentieth birthday the Mexican got a dog that is with them to this day.

Simon decided to take the next step. He started collecting money for operations for his partner. She was disgustingly expensive - yes. But for the next four years he managed to collect the appropriate sum. Lewis had a ring box in his pocket since the beginning of this year.

The ringing of the telephone broke him out of his thoughts. He woke up and pulled the device out of his pocket. The name and number of Raphael's sister Rosa appeared on the display. He pressed the green receiver, holding the cell to his ear.

"Hello?" He started, taking a sip of his coffee, wincing.

"Simon. How's it going?" she asked.

"He's been in the hall for three hours," he replied. "You have nothing to worry about, Rosa" cheered her up. The siblings quarreled a few days ago. The woman felt terribly bad about it.

"I would like to be there with you so much. So much.."

"But you have a party on your head," he reminded her, smiling to himself.

"Yes" she giggled. "Let me know when it's all over."

"You have my word."

"Until next time."

"Bye" hung up and tossed the paper cup into the trash.

***

He opened his eyes to meet the darkness again. A shudder shook him. So it failed. He thought. Or I died. So I could go down there after all. It's over. Never again..

"Raphael?" Simon's sleepy voice rang out. "You woke up?"

"Simon? Y.. yeah.." he started looking for his hand.

"Oh, thank God.. I'm rushing to get the doctor." Lewis could hardly hold back a laugh. Raphael heard the sound of his feet and the sound of the door opening. He didn't know anymore what to think, whether he had succeeded or not. At least, he was sure he wasn't dead.

There was another patter of feet, the scuffing of a stool. Raphael felt the rough skin of the doctor on his face as he started to sort something out.

"I want to tell you, everything went according to plan" Santiago heard the doctor's voice and felt as if an ice arrow had pierced him. The thing Adam got off the Mexican's face was the bandage. And he slowly saw the light.

The light was too harsh, way too harsh for his sensitive eyes. He sat up in bed in a daze. The walls of the hall were white, the floor was tiled with alabaster tiles. Before the doctor could leave him, he was locked in a firm embrace.

"Gracias" he whispered. "Gracias.." began to sob. Adam patted him on the shoulder.

"I leave you alone" and he left. Raphael looked at Simon. His eyes stung terribly from his tears, but he ignored it. The salty drops began to flow out in greater amounts and his mouth began to tremble.

"You are.. you are beautiful.." he stammered, placing a hand on his cheek. "B.. beautiful.." he smiled broadly. He pulled him closer, hugged him tight, and rested his head on his shoulder. Lewis couldn't hold back his tears, he cried with him.

***

On the way home he did not take his eyes off the nature, houses, people and animals that flashed through his car window. He rested his head on the back of the chair and the smile did not disappear from his face.

"Everything is so beautiful," he said softly. Simon took one hand off the steering wheel and placed it on his partner's lap. "Everyone is so beautiful," Lewis said nothing but smiled. When they reached the house, the Mexican got out of the car, stood in front of the building, and stared at it. "Wow" the brunette took his bag out of the trunk and locked the vehicle.

"Come on. The rest are waiting."

"The rest? What is the rest?" He began to look around the area.

"At home" wrapped his arm around him and they walked through the black gate. A stone path stretched further, and after a while they were standing at the threshold of the door.

"Raphael!" Rosa ran out of the kitchen.

"Rosa?" Confusion seized him. He recognized her voice.

"Raphael. Dios, I'm so sorry.."

"Not now" he cut into her word. "Not now" he wrapped his arms around her. "This is not the time for our argument."

***

It was evening. Santiago was sitting on the swing in the front yard, watching the flames of candles burning on the table. With his other hand he was scratching the golden retriver. He felt heavy because he didn't feel sorry for his food at all. Simon joined him and wrapped the blanket around him and took a seat next to him.

"How were your impressions after today?" He asked quietly, brushing a lock of black hair from the older man's forehead.

"Wonderful," he replied. "You've done so much for me, Simon. You've helped me so much." the brown-eyed man reached into his back pocket. "I have no idea how to repay you, Simon. A simple thank you will not be enough. A little word will not pay off that much debt to you. Simon, how can I repay you?" He looked at him. Lewis took out a red box and opened it.

"Becoming my husband." There was silence between them. "Raph.."

"Yes.." Raphael put his hand to his mouth and shook his head. "Yes, Simon. I will" the man smiled and grabbed his hand and slipped a ring onto his finger. "Dios, Lewis, how many more times will you make me cry?"

#saphael #simon lewis x raphael santiago #oneshot #shadowhunters #fanfiction

[terrm9]

CHAPTER 8 - Closure

Never in her life would Chiara expect to find herself getting ready for engagement party of Harper Emery, of all people. But alas, neither would she think that her biggest accessory to the said party would be a wooden cane and yet here she was.

She felt equally nervous and excited about both, the process of getting ready and also the fact that after almost three months, she was going to spend the whole evening in the company of so many people. Considering the fact that Decembers in Boston were disgustingly cold compared to those back in San Francisco, Chiara decided not to test her own ability to not to freeze in the tiny, back cut out navy blue dress she wanted to wear initially, instead reaching for tight, long sleeved emerald green ones. She also succumbed the idea of wearing a thigh high boots, since she still needed to use a cane in spite of walking steadily. She grabbed the pair of black Doc Martens instead, put her hair into purposefully messy bun and stepped into the living room, where Sienna and Jackie were already waiting for her.

“Look at yourself!” Sienna smiled widely when she first noticed her. “Ready to blow some minds tonight?”

“Please, Sienna,” Chiara laughed shortly. “It just felt nice to put some make up on after such long time.”

“Well, you definitely dress to impress, Chiaris,” Jackie nodded, grinning. “I personally prefer undressing to impress, however. Is Lahela joining us?”

Chiara shook her head, going through her purse once again, making sure she wasn’t forgetting anything and without looking up, she shrugged: “He decided to spend tonight with Keiki.”

It was only a half truth. He was spending his night with Keike, but also with Kyra, who wasn’t feeling very well and wouldn’t really enjoy an evening spent at a party. The something going on between Bryce and Kyra, whatever it was, wasn’t exactly top secret, but Chiara knew that Bryce hasn’t told anyone about them yet and she didn’t feel like she should just spill it now.

“Whatever. Aurora is already there and she just texted me saying that the place is full of old doctors and even older teachers, so we really need to hurry up and get drunk with her.”

Sienna grabbed her coat and looked at Chiara, her face concerned.

“Are you sure you want to take the T, Chiara? We can always call a cab.”

“Thanks, Si, but I really want to take the T. I am going back to work in two days, remember? I kinda have to handle the basic life at this point.”

˜

It only took them about 20 minutes to get to the place where the party has been held and it was only when Chiara stepped through the main door that she fully realized that she would probably be meeting Ethan tonight.

Before she could drown herself in the sea of panic, nervousness, doubt and even sadness, she almost got crushed in a hug.

“Chiara, it’s so good to see you! We are all so, so happy that you are getting back!”

Chiara had to take two steps back and blink several times to match the face to the voice and the arms around her.

“Ines,” she smiled wholeheartedly. “I am the happy one. I missed you all. Yep, even you, Zaid,” she laughed as she noticed the older doctor to roll his eyes at the sentimental scene in front of him.

“I haven’t missed you at all, Ray,” he responded without missing a beat. “But I am glad to see that you are doing well.”

He took a sip of his drink and returned to the conversation he had with Ines before and as hard as he tried to look casual, Chiara knew very well that he just told her he actually did miss her.

˜

Ethan Ramsey was sitting at the bar, watching the crowd of people that all came to celebrate the happy couple. He really wanted to go home already, not feeling any of the happy vibes reaching him. The picture of scotch, book and comfort of his bed, was enough for him to dream about leaving, however he couldn’t bring himself to actually do so. It wouldn’t be impolite towards Harper and her fiancé, as he already congratulated them and the speeches were told and nobody really cared about the grumpy doctor at the bar. He stayed because he believed he’d see Chiara somewhere among the crowd, he hoped to at least catch a glimpse of her. Two hours ago, Ethan spotted Dr. Varma dancing with Aurora Emery and so he expected to see Chiara nearby, but two long hours have passed and she was nowhere to be found.

Just as he started to concede the possibility of her not coming to the party, the familiar voice behind his back startled him. He turned around abruptly on his bar stool and suddenly found himself staring in those beautiful green eyes, the eyes that were wide with surprise as they stared back at him.

“Chia- um, Dr. Ray. Nice to see you,” he nodded towards her, remembering her wish to keep things professional.

“Hi, Ethan,” she smiled softly as she grabbed the glass of wine she ordered and his shoulders visibly relaxed when she called him by his first name.

Chiara wished to go home. As happy as she was for Dr. Emery and Mr. Banks, she felt her legs slightly trembling after the pressure she kept putting on them for the last three hours and her head was hurting. Clearly, she was overwhelmed by all the noises and fellow doctors wanting to talk to her and foreign teachers asking her how did she – so young and beautiful – ended up with a cane. All she dreamed about was her bed and medical journal and some lovely, slow, silent music in the background. Sienna promised to take her home anytime she wanted but seeing how much she was enjoying her time with Danny on the dance floor, Chiara couldn’t bring herself to ask her to leave. And so, she decided to at least order a glass of wine and just observe the others from a corner of the room.

The possibility of meeting Ethan at the bar hasn’t crossed her mind even once, when really it was the only place she could imagine him spending the night at.

He looked as handsome as ever and it took Chiara by surprise. She believed she could face him and maintain the cold distance she decided to put between them this time. She wasn’t prepared for him, dressed in black button up shirt and black pants, to look so unfairly awesome.

“You look like you are attending a funeral,” she blurted out, trying to save herself from telling him how attractive he looked.

“I hate parties almost equally much,” Ethan replied, observing her from head to toes, admiring her beauty. Her cheeks were blushed pink, few strands of her hair sticking out of her bun, the dress flattering both, her figure and her complexion.

You look so beautifully alive, Rookie.

“Why are you here then?”

“Because I respect Harper and, as much as it may surprise you, I am sincerely happy for her to find the right man. Well, I would definitely be happier if the amount of “darlings” and “sweethearts” in their speeches was radically decreased, but nonetheless, I am happy for them.”

Chiara, despite trying to keep her expression cool and distant, had to laugh at the dissatisfied expression on his face as he said the words darlings and sweethearts.

“You hate nicknames in relationship. Obviously.”

“Yes, obviously,” he repeated. “I mean, they have their names for a reason.”

“But you call me Rookie,” the pointed out, sipping slowly on her wine.

Ethan’s expression softened immediately, remembering the first time he called her so.

“I called you Rookie on your first day in hospital, because I didn’t know your real name back then. That’s the difference. These two, I mean, Harper and Thomas are pretty decent names, why can’t they just use them?”

Ignoring his rage about Harper and Thomas not using their actual names, Chiara couldn’t help but tease him.

“Yeah, you didn’t know my name back then, but now you do, and you still call me Rookie. So I guess the nicknames are not all that bad.”

His cheeks blushed in dark pink colour as he realized that she was indeed right. He gave her a nickname and they both grew so fond of it, that he didn’t want to stop calling her that.

Clearing his throat, Ethan decided to change the topic before they would tangle themselves too deep in the memories and therefore regrets.

“So, have have you been doing?”

Chiara wasn’t looking at him as she answered: “I like to think that I am doing fine”

“What exactly does that mean?”

She shrugged, not really wanting to elaborate. She only wanted to talk to him about work and the money she owed him, the concept of the “how-has-life-been-lately” talk not fitting into her plan.

“My back doesn’t hurt much anymore, only when I stand for too long or sleep on one side for too long. The legs are fine, except the stability in my left leg – I don’t trust myself with it enough, I guess. That’s why I’ll have to use this little friend of mine-” she chuckled as she lifted her wooden cane up, “-a little bit longer than I initially expected. Other than that, I am totally fine.”

“And the nightmares?” he couldn’t help but ask, noticing the dark circles under her eyes.

“Manageable,” Chiara responded way too quickly and before he could accuse her of lying, she changed the topic. “Honestly, I think I should be the one to ask you if you were okay. I mean, this is 16 ounces glass you are holding in your hand and it’s filled with pure liquid. So you’re either drinking insufferably huge amount of vodka or you are drinking water, which in your case, is just as weird. Are you sick or something?”

Ethan couldn’t suppress his laugh anymore, hearing Chiara like that reminding him all the conversations they had while she was in the hospital.

“It’s water, which, for the record, I drink quite often, since as a doctor I know how important it is. And as much as I’d prefer whiskey tonight, I came here by car. Therefore, I just have to stick with the water until I get home.”

Chiara laughed at the tone of his voice, indicating just how very much he already wished to be home with a glass of said whiskey in his hand.

It was Ethan’s turn to observe the crowd, not knowing if Chiara still insisted on keeping their distance or if he could finally talk to her about all those things he wanted to talk to her about.

Chiara’s whole chest was tight, and she felt her heart breaking all over again at the sight of him. She missed him so much and she wanted to forget all the hurt he caused her and all the trust issues she’s had, because this light conversation they just managed to have, that was her relationship with Ethan. Laughs and teasing and caring for each other. For him to hate sweet couple nicknames and for her to tease him about not drinking alcohol in the middle of the party, it simply felt so natural.

This is who we are. This is what we could be if only he could stop leaving me in the dark. If only I could trust him.

The tears threatened to fall out of her eyes and she was thankful for the fact that Ethan wasn’t looking at her. She quickly blinked them away and took a deep breath before speaking again.

“I was actually hoping to talk to you?”

Ethan’s head snapped back at her, his expression surprised and also somehow… pleased?

“You were?”

“I wanted to let you know that I am officially getting back to work on Monday. I missed a lot, so if you have some work for me to catch up, you can send it and I’ll get through everything until then.”

“Please, Chiara,” he smiled softly at her, falling for her even deeper at those words, seeing how dedicated she was. “You’ll catch up just fine on Monday. Enjoy these two free days, the work will wait for you.”

“As you wish,” she shrugged, knowing better than to try to persuade him. “I also wanted to let you know that I haven’t forgotten about the rents you paid for me and as soon as I am back to work, I will pay everything back. Just give me another week or so, please.”

Ethan didn’t want her to pay him back. He didn’t miss the money and the fact that he could do at least something for her made him feel good. But just as Chiara knew about his stubbornness, Ethan knew about hers and so he knew that when Chiara Ray made her mind about something, there was no point in persuading her otherwise.

He was about to nod when he noticed Chiara wincing in pain and gently massaging her lower back.

“So much about no back pains,” he frowned. “Don’t you want to go home?”

“I’d really like to, but I am forbidden to go home without Sienna’s supervision, and she is having such a great time. I don’t want to make her leave, so I guess I’ll just drink wine until she decides to go home.”

“I was about to leave. I can take you,” Ethan offered without a second of hesitation.

She knew she shouldn’t accept. She knew that it was her idea to keep a distance and that stepping into Ethan’s car would ruin her dedication to maintain it. But in this moment, she also knew they both deserved a closure, the talk about them. The talk where both sides could talk and explain.

She hoped for them to be best friends again.

Chiara missed Ethan.

“Okay,” she nodded. “Let me just text Sienna. You can go first and I’ll follow you in a few minutes, so that people don’t talk about us leaving together.”

“Please,” he laughed loudly, for the first time in the evening. “People already are talking about us.”

“What?” she gasped, eyes wide with shock.

“I think it started at the softball game, when I’ve gotten a little bit too protective over you. That and the fact that not once in my eleven years at Edenbrook I attended a softball game. Until you asked me to play,” he chuckled, but after a brief moment his expression hardened. “And well, my, uh… breakdown in the E.R. after your accident, my visits by your bedside, I guess all of those things sparked the rumors.”

Not sure if she felt more amused or embarrassed, Chiara sent a quick text to Sienna, explaining that Dr. Terminator would give her a ride home and after putting her phone back to the purse, she grinned at Ethan: “Let’s give them something fresh then, shall we?”

Ethan put his hand at her lower back lightly and with a smug smile on his face lead her out of the party neither of them wanted to attend in the first place.

˜

The car ride was peaceful, Boston streets unusually quiet and empty, fresh snow reflecting the streetlights, making the street look brighter than it really was.

Ethan was being extremely careful to make sure the ride was smooth, not braking abruptly, not taking sharp turns. As okay as Chiara pretended to be, he was a doctor after all, and he knew that dealing with trauma came in waves. That anything could trigger a bad memory back.

His thoughts were disturbed by a sudden cry coming from Chiara’s mouth.

“Ethan, stop!”

He slammed the brakes, sighing with relief when he made sure that there was no car following them, as his sudden braking would definitely cause a crash. He turned to Chiara startled and despite wanting to respect her wishes, he reached for her hand.

“What is it, Chiara?”

“I am sorry,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “I just felt like the opposite car was about to crash into us.”

At this point, her whole body was trembling, her breaths short and shallow. She was at the beginning of hyperventilation, her face ghostly pale.

“Just let me park and we can step out of the car, okay? We’ll catch some fresh air and everything will be alright,” Ethan squeezed her hand and slowly pulled out, parking the car by the carb as soon as he could. Turning the engine off, his whole figure turned towards Chiara.

“You haven’t been in car since the accident?”

After taking a few deep breaths to steady her senses, Chiara look at Ethan and with a weak voice, she replied: “Only once, when Bryce drove me home from the hospital. But that was at the noon and I could see the whole car on the opposite side of road. I could see that the car was in its own lane, I could even see the driver. But now it’s night and it’s dark and the only thing I see are the two front lights getting closer and closer and…” she trailed off, not able to finish the sentence as her lower lip was trembling again.

Ethan cupped her cheeks with his hands and with voice so soft it broke her heart, he whispered: “It’s okay, Rookie. You are okay, you are safe. We don’t have to continue, we can just sit in the car until you feel better, okay?”

She nodded, leaning into his touch as she closed her eyes. The comfortable silence in the car was only disturbed by occasional car driving by them and for the first time in almost two weeks, Chiara felt safe.

“I guess we should talk,” she muttered into his hand.

“About work? Because as I said, there’s no need-“

“About us,” she cut him off, straightening on her seat.

Ethan raised his eyebrows in surprise, but soon his expression was utterly vulnerable.

“I would like that very much. Do you want to talk here in the car? Or at your place? Of course we could go to my place, as it provides more privacy, but I am fine with whatever you want. As long as you feel comfortable,” he felt the hotness creeping on his neck, realizing very well how nervous he must’ve sounded.

“Your place sounds fine,” Chiara smiled at him, amused as she, too, realized just how nervous he suddenly was.

˜

As they stepped into Ethan’s apartment, the first thing he made sure of was that Chiara was sitting comfortably on his couch.

“Can I offer you something to drink?” he asked, making his way to the kitchen.

“I’ll have whatever you are having.”

“Uhm, I am not going to have anything, so I recommend you to change your mind.”

“You came home to have scotch.”

“Yes, but that was before I knew that you would join me. I’ll be taking you back home,” he shrugged, pouring himself another glass of water.

“I’ll just take a cab,” she rolled her eyes. “Get us both some good scotch, please.”

“There’s no way I am letting you take a cab,” he shook his head. “I promised you a drive home and I intend to give you that.”

Chiara wanted to fight him, to tell him that she was a big girl and didn’t need to be supervised all the time, but she came here to talk about them and so she let the topic of whiskey go.

“I think it’s rather fair to both of us to know where we stand, now that I’ll be back to work and things will go back to normal.”

Ethan joined her on the couch, his expression thoughtful as he kept looking not at her, rather at the coffee table. He nodded slowly and even though he realized that it was not a gentleman thing to do, he started to speak before she could say anything else.

“I am sorry, Chiara. If I am to tell you only one thing tonight, I want you to know, most of all, that I am truly and infinitely sorry for everything I’ve ever put you through. I am sorry for leaving you when you most needed me, for running away when things got hard, for pushing you away only to pull you closer. I now see just how huge coward, how huge asshole I’ve been all that time. And I know very well that one damn ‘sorry’ doesn’t make up for everything I’ve caused you to feel. But still, I am sorry.”

“You weren’t all that bad, you know,” she grinned. “I have forgiven you a long time ago, Ethan. I don’t hate you, obviously. I am not even angry. And I missed you. I mean, there’s no better target of my teasing than you, old man. What we had, while I was in the hospital, it was more than I’ve ever imagined we could be. Being close friends with internal jokes and deep talks, I miss that, Ethan, but I am so afraid to trust you, because every time things got actually good between us, you’d take a step back. So I need you to tell me what you want and once it’s said Ethan, I need you to stick to your words. No matter what.”

Ethan stood up and started to pace nervously around the living room, preparing himself to tell Chiara everything he wanted to tell her for such a long time.

“Not so long ago I told you that there was no such a thing as unconditional love or soul mates. That I am not capable of love, because I don’t believe in it in the first place. But sweet Lord, seeing you in the I.C.U. after the accident, believing that I would never see your eyes open, that I would never hear you laugh again, it made me think. And as terrible as I am at expressing my emotions and my feelings, I no longer feel that way. I know now that whatever it is that you feel for me, it’s unconditional. It must be, because otherwise you would just give up on me already. And I know that what I feel for you, whatever it is, is unconditional too.”

He took a deep breath and sat back down on the couch next to her, taking her hand into his.

“For a long time I believed that the thing I wanted the most was to have you all to myself. To selfishly call you mine. But now I know that is actually not what I want the most.”

“Oh?” she interrupted him for the first time, her expression visibly pained.

“What I want more than anything in this world is for you to be happy. You deserve the whole world Chiara and you deserve to be happy and nothing else but happy. And I know myself. I am broken man, destroyed one. Cynic. Asshole. Unable to express what he feels, enable to show affection. No matter how much I care for you, there are still men out there, that would be so much better at expressing it. Even though they wouldn’t care as much as I do, they would show you just how much they do. If we were together, we would have to keep our relationship a secret. I wouldn’t be able to take you out for a dinner, to accompany you to the parties as your plus one. You deserve so much better than me, Chiara, and I want you to have the best.”

There was a long pause after that. Chiara was staring at the wall, obviously way too deep in her thoughts, considering everything Ethan has just said. Her brows were furrowed, her fingers playing with the hem of her dress without her mind actually realizing so.

After what felt like forever, she turned to Ethan and looked straight into his eyes.

“You don’t get to decide what’s best for me, Ethan. As noble as it is, for you to want me to be happy even if it’s with someone else, if you selfishly want me all for yourself, just say it, damnit. I can decide if that’s what’s best for me.”

The fire in her eyes as she looked at him made Ethan’s throat dry. Before he could compose any meaningful sentence, Chiara added: “But remember, I need you to stand by what you say. I need you to keep your words this time, Ramsey.”

“Well, then I selfishly want you all for myself, Rookie,” he smiled at her, the fact that she didn’t retreat the hand he was holding giving him a tiny bit of hope. “And I wish I could be the one to make you happy.”

“You mean it?”

She wanted to come with a comeback, with response that would break this tense, vulnerable, raw atmosphere, yet she needed him to ensure her that he wouldn’t change his mind in the morning.

“I mean it. With all my heart, if there’s something of it left. I mean it with my whole being, Chiara. If you ever decide to give me, give us, a chance, I promise not to give up on us, not to leave, not to push you back. I can't promise you happily ever after and I can't promise to never disappoint you again, because I likely will disappoint you again. However, I can promise to learn how to change. I promise to work on the relationship harder than I’ve ever worked on my degree.”

They both laughed, knowing that such promise meant more than any other could mean.

“Well, in that case, it’s a good thing that I selfishly want you all to myself too, Dr. Ramsey,” her words almost a whisper as she let them out.

For the first time ever, their lips met in a kiss that didn’t taste like regrets, doubts and sorrow.

For the first time ever they kissed with hope and promises and happiness.

#open heart #open heart choices #open heart fanfiction #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #pixelberry #play choices #sienna trinh

[trollnobu]

Kendo AU: Characterisation Notes

So I found some notes on how I wanted to characterise characters that weren't shown all that much in canon because they're, well, dead. We're barely given any info about them or their personalities, so this is just something to keep myself on track when I write them.

They're also all part of a friend circle of their own. I call them Posthumous Pals.

Sabito

��18, first year university student, studying criminology

▪Hot-tempered, but doesn't hold grudges and forgives and forgets easily. His anger usually comes from a place of concern. Always nagging at Giyū and Makomo for being flighty, irresponsible or forgetful.

▪"Makomo, did you forget to pay your phone bills again" "Oi, Giyū, how many hours did you sleep last night? You look like shit" "Am I your alarm clock? Get up already!" "DON'T TELL ME YOU BOTH FORGOT THERE WAS A TEST TODAY OH MY GOD"

▪Actual Mum Friend. He's a little mad about it, but he cannot stop himself. Considering how often he has to remind them to eat or force them to study...his childhood friends really are useless without him.

▪TSUNDERE

▪Ultimately a nice guy, but his people skills could use work. He can get a bit standoffish and even scary. Still has a better rep than Giyū, though

▪Passionate but overzealous. He can be very overwhelming sometimes and unwittingly intimidates juniors. He used to tutor Tanjirō and his siblings as a side job and ended up scaring them...

▪Very hardworking and driven! He's the kind of guy who has a clear aim in life and probably a 10 year plan on how to get to where he wants to be. It makes him clash with Giyū and Makomo a bit, since they're either too unsure or carefree, but he's just worried for their future.

▪Unwilling straight man of his childhood friend group. Often the sole voice of reason and common sense.

▪Has feelings for Makomo for ages but stubbornly refuses to say anything to keep the status quo (Giyū's tired, send help)

Makomo

▪18, first year university student, studying arts

▪Between fiery, disciplined Sabito and melancholic, disgruntled Giyū, Makomo is the nice middle ground with a serene, gentle temperament.

▪She's probably too calm, if you ask Sabito. It comes with the downside of not taking anything seriously. Makomo has a tendency to brush off her friends' worries. Sometimes it helps temper Sabito and Giyū's anxiety; sometimes it infuriates them. A double-edged sword.

▪Has a hidden impish side. She likes to make fun of both Sabito and Giyū. Giyū gets disproportionately dramatic over it and accuses her of "emotionally profiting off of [his] distress."

▪Despite seeming the least obsessed with kendo compared to her friends, Makomo was actually the one to drag them into it...

▪Can come across as lazy because she doesn't have the same sense of purpose or drive as Sabito. She's also a bit spoiled and likes being pampered. Some might pin the blame on her godfather and mentor Urokodaki

▪Acts like the friendly, reliable onee-chan to her juniors and is the only senior Obanai actually likes but will shamelessly behave childishly in front of Giyū and Sabito. They don't like admitting that they also get childish in retaliation.

▪Of the three, Makomo is the best with people and their assigned PR manager though she can act distant without realising it. Has the kind of face where she always looks like she has something on her mind. People sometimes feel that she's a bit unapproachable because it's almost like they're interrupting something...

▪Gets bright-eyed and very chatty if someone brings up anything relating to arts, sculptures or dancing.

Kochō Kanae

▪18, first year university student, studying medical science

▪Poster child of the Genki Girl trope and child prodigy who makes you question your life's accomplishments

▪Kanae is one of those people who masters everything with little effort. She's not even the respectable hard worker type like Sabito or Shinobu; she just doesn't need to work too hard and still makes it anyway. Has never seriously struggled with anything.

▪Also filthy, disgustingly rich. She's a born heiress to a large pharmaceutical conglomerate and was spoiled by loving parents. Truly born with a silver spoon in her mouth.

▪Very cheerful and kind! She's the sort of person who likes to make children laugh, helps the elderly cross the street and makes sure no one feels left out. Probably visits orphanages and campaigns for environmental awareness or something.

▪Beautiful! Intelligent! Accomplished! Compassionate! How can someone be this perfect?

▪Unfortunately, she's also BIG CHAOTIC DUMB, has no financial sense, naive, incredibly unreliable, can be an obnoxious do-gooder and is notoriously lacking in common sensibilities. Absolutely cannot function in the real world without Shinobu. Even her boyfriend's very first impression of her was "rich idiot without a day job."

▪Everyone thinks "how on earth did Sanemi trick her into a relationship with him?" But no one thinks "how on earth did Kanae trick him into a relationship with her?"

▪Ironically, despite being rather dysfunctional individuals by their own, Kanae and Sanemi seem to have a fairly stable, calm relationship. It wasn't so in the beginning, though

▪More wise than you'd expect, but too bad you'd hardly see that side of her. She's too busy being a disaster.

Rengoku Kyōjurō

Not posthumous, in the sense that he doesn't die before the series but during it, but he's here anyway because he kicked it so quick smh rip ren

▪17, third year high school student, captain of his kendo club and also the star pupil of the Fire Branch

▪Gender-bent version of Kanae in that he's explosively cheerful and full of endless optimism and energy. Everyone fears them when they're together. The genki is too powerful...

▪Big Brother Energy™

▪He's your go-to guy if you have any troubles and need a listening ear, or a helping hand, or honest criticism, or just some advice. Anything you need, he is here!

▪Despite appearing well-adjusted, however, he's not as untouchable as he looks. Like everyone his age, he has some anxiety and fears over the future and impending adulthood. He has a hard time confiding in anyone, though, because he's so used to being the one relied on.

▪Big case of Mama's Boy Syndrome. He'll drop everything for her. Due to her weak health, he really worries about his mother.

▪Because the Fire Branch has close ties with the Water Branch, he sees the others fairly often. He's at his most chatty with Kanae, Shinobu and Sabito (though even Sabito gets worn out after a while) and is one of the few who genuinely likes Giyū, despite his social missteps and bumbling. Makomo and Obanai try to escape at first sight of him; they seldom succeed.

▪"He's like cough medicine. Good for you if you're feeling bad, but best taken in small doses."

▪Between him and Mitsuri, the Fire Branch easily has the most welcoming and encouraging atmosphere of all the dojos.

Kumeno Masachika

▪20, third year university student, studying psychology and sociology

▪Step aside, Kyōjurō, the real big brother is here.

▪He's old and experienced enough to actually have some of his shit together by now. Or maybe university has worn him out.

▪He has all of Makomo's unflappability, but without her flippancy. All of Sabito's responsibility, without his anxiety. Friendly as Kyōjurō without being overwhelming, realistic as Giyū without giving into pessimism and charismatic as Kanae without being unreachable. In short: the most down-to-earth, well-balanced, and least dysfunctional person within a 20 mile radius.

▪It makes him a bit of an odd sight in the Wind Branch, in between Sanemi's hair-trigger temper and Inosuke's obscene screaming. Legends say his calm is to overcompensate for the level of unbridled feral energy in the Wind Branch...

▪In truth, he's the scariest one amongst them if he does get angry. His juniors actually write apology notes to him if this happens, like young children who've just disappointed their favourite teacher.

▪Otherwise, he wins the award of Most Chill. He gets frequently deployed if they need someone to defuse tension. An important duty, when one considers that the Wind Branch is the most competitive, aggressive of the dojos.

▪Speaks a bit dryly, though it feels personable rather than snarky.

▪The dojo master of the Wind Branch is apparently trying to harangue him into being the next, though he's resisting because he wants to "go teach kids or something."

▪Maybe it's only fitting, since the rest of the Wind Branch already gave him plenty of experience at shepherding unruly children.

#kny fanfic #sabito #makomo #kochou kanae #rengoku kyoujurou #kumeno masachika #kny spoilers #i doubt anyone doesnt know rengoku dies but lets slap that tag on anyway for anime watchers #me at masachika: god i wish that were me #kanae really be that 'always another asian better than you' meme #sabito is just tsundere and mum friend. i've broken him down to his bare essentials #kny kendo au #kendo au #...i forgot which tag i was using rip #posthumous pals #thats a tag now

[beyoncesdragon]

The disappointing Gender

Pairing:  Bestfriend!Ashton x Reader   

Warnings: shit ton of cursing, dont worry I love men, but women are just easier at times. Based on a real story, that shit really happened to me. 

Summary: Some men are just straight up trash. And what’s better than to vent about them to your willingly listening best friend Ashton. 

My Masterlist 🦋

(Gif credits: @ghostofmashton​)

“I don’t know exactly what goes through your mind when deciding to finally peel your limp body out of your comfy sheets, go through the usually long, self-esteem-damaging process of “getting ready”, find an outfit you would feel comfortable but not underdressed in and then leave for a party. Let me be honest, I mostly think: at least let it be worth all this. And then maybe something like; maybe I’ll meet someone. “Someone” carefully and fully on purpose undefined because you don’t want to get your hopes up and then be disappointed. But “someone” secretly being a guy, optionally a boyfriend even, but just maybe.

“However, now you are at that party, ready to meet new people and you take a look around. You see many people; some you think are pretty in your eyes some aren’t. But that’s okay, that’s only natural. So then after a time, when you have met a few girls you get along with, you spot the “someone”. And your friends somehow knew about him and all that bullshit and tell you the teeniest bit of bloody information alright? And he, on top of that, seems to be interested, keep that in mind.”

I stopped for a second, taking a gulp of my water. The few ice cubes clicked softly against the glass when I placed it back down.

“Alright. Now, you chat with him, all friendly funny business, you develop a sort of insider joke. It’s funny and you think wow, it isn’t all that difficult to talk to boys, amazing. Eventually, you also had a few, and I don’t want to say advantageously but it does help.”

A giggle fell from my bestfriends lips, but I decided to just keep going. “I will again be honest, I was a bit…inebriated if I may say so and if you would want to take me as an example. However, maybe you flirt for a while, and it really all goes well, so well that you would’ve started to become suspicious, since it was you after all. Continuing, because you’re bloody sloshed, you don’t suspect anything, even though if you would’ve just listened closely you could’ve totally heard fate snigger.”

I earned an amused hum from Ashton for that, picking up my glass again. “Further on, one of your new friends disappears with a guy and it’s okay for you but not for her friend whom you also are friends with now. That, because the other girl actually does have a guy eventually. But she isn’t sure. So you go get her, and you sit down with the girls outside to have a chat. Because it’s important that she still has a good night and so on. During that amount of time, you selflessly neglect your guy. Not that he is your guy in reality, but you secretly might have planned on making him your guy.” After a big gulp I placed my glass back down again, the ice now almost completely molten.

“Suddenly, that bloke walks out, raising a single hand at you as an obvious goodbye. And you sit here, startled and a bit dumbfounded because what the fuck is he leaving already. Quick note; it was hardly midnight, the clock stroke twelve maybe two minutes ago. So you get up, approach him and ask, why in the love of Jesus effing Christ he’s leaving already. His response; well. He hasn’t been blessed with the best of experience with women.”

And annoyed frown settled on my face. “I mean what kind of excuse is that? I haven’t only met them good guys either, but do you see me acting like an antisocial scaredy-cat? Nope sir, because I am not that superficial, and you shouldn’t be as well because I am not “women”. Also, have I mentioned that my friends told me, that he was total slag, like a fuckboy freshly bred. Best experience with women my fucking ass. However, back to my example; you then are still a bit startled because he slips that he has been cheated on and all that godforsaken crap. And in your woozy, naturally kind-hearted state you are in, you do feel sorry and possibly even apologise for being so bold. Also, because you don’t want him to think bad of you, he is very attractive after all and you have not given up your hopes just yet.”

A grin had now settled on Ash’s lips, as he leaned back with his drink, the attention still fully with me. “Then he says something like; but it was nice to meet you, and asks you to say your name again, and you do so. Naturally you do ask him the same thing…and you may have forgotten the name already.” I added with a frown, desperately trying to remember. “Something with F and it sounded French or such. Don’t know, not important anyways. Just like his existence.”

At that, Ashton laughed out loud, but wisely keeping quiet. “Yeah you just laugh…however, he then throws that horrid line; we’ll see each other again yeah?

At you, and you might think cool. But how for the love of fuck, since you don’t have anything except for a name. So the thing you do then is, you scrap all of your…I don’t know confidence from off the bottom of your rotten self and ask, if he wants to at least give you his snapchat.” Ash let out a whistle but I waved him off.

“I’m not done yet. So you ask. And he just ignores your question somehow, can’t really remember how. The whole time he’s walking away from you backwards, I guess towards the busstation and you have to follow him like damn mongrel…however. You end up leaving it be and sprinting back to your friends telling them what happened. Because they “know” him, they know his Instagram, so you decide to follow him. But he is on private so you got to send a request. Done with a few clicks, in approximately ten seconds. So now he is gone, you feel disappointment bubbling up, because fuck.”

Ash nodded slowly, looking up at me since I got up impatiently from his couch. “Sounds fun?” he said in a more or less questioning manner and I shot him a dark look.

“Buzz off twat, the best part’s only coming.” Ash rose an eyebrow, leaning back expectantly again. “Next morning you go and check your Instagram, somehow curious if he accepted your request and what do you see? He fucking declined it! This bloody wanker skipped my music, stole my attention and wasted my fucking time, four hours of it!” Ashton broke out in a fit of laughter, nearly spilling his drink.

“Comedy at its finest, certificated gold. Platinum even. Oh Jesus Christ. And that all has obviously not happened to you, you just purposely told it like it did right?” I huffed annoyed, dropping down again. “Never, as if stuff like this would ever happen to me. I mean, I totally understand mankind, it’s just that you can’t fucking use any of them.” Ash giggled, a dopey grin on his face.

“Come again?” I rolled my eyes. “I said, that you can’t fucking use any of you gentlemen. Men are so disappointing, like get a grip on yourselves honestly.” Ash grinned, nudging me with his foot. “Haven’t you just said that he should stop being superficial because of one woman?” he teased and I gave him an angry glare.

“Cheating and just generally being international disappointments is something else. I slowly start to believe that you guys are just born with that twat-gene. It’s almost not your fault. It’s probably the Y-chromosome, would explain why women aren’t like you guys.” Ash shot me an amused grin.

“I don’t know if I would surprise you saying that the explanation why men and women aren’t the same accurately is rooted in our genes. To be specific, it’s even a matter of just those two chromosome, the X-chromosome and the Y-chromosome…” I groaned annoyed, aiming a pillow at his head. I missed, but the message was clear.

“Smart-alecky dimwit, get off my back. I need emotional support, because member belonging to your sex has wasted my time and, in addition to that, ruined your all’s reputation.” Ash just hummed amused.

“Is that so.” I nodded, pouting bolshie. “Then I suggest, you listen to Ariana Grande’s Thank u Next and some Beyoncé, maybe also Rihanna. They’ll support your idea of men being trash immediately I am sure.” I flipped him off immediately, even though he had brought up a good point.

“I am kidding sweetheart. I know men can be idiots, but so can you females.” I couldn’t help but throw him a derisive look “Yes, males and females can be difficult at times.” I mocked him and he just shot me a lopsided grin. “Now you get off my back, annoying brat. But you are over him?” I shrugged.

“I mean, I was never actively involved with him, so I guess?” he nodded softly. “Venting felt good?” I nodded quickly. “Always does. Thanks bud.” He smiled warmly at me. “Everything for my best friend. Mind if I quickly call Kaitlin…” as he saw my face he immediately rolled his eyes. “Oh your little girlfriend huh? Young Irwin’s a little whipped?” giving me the finger he got up and grabbed his phone. “Shut up. I’m right back you bitter prick.”

I laughed sitting up again. “I am not bitter, I am happy for you Ash. Furthermore, I don’t have any problems with taken people or relationships. The problems I have, start when selfish and inconsiderate assholes rub in the fact that they have someone, and start gushing about them. When I, as an admittedly slowly bitter, but independent single person, couldn’t give a shit or two.” Ash grinned at me, shaking his head slightly. “I love you, you madwoman. Also, I am sure you’ll find your guy and we can do all those disgustingly cute things best friends do when they both are in relationships.”

I scrunched my nose. “Like what? Double-dates? In this case, I’d rather stay single Irwin, and now get lost you need to call your babygirl or whatever. Our ice cream is melting and our friends-day is not over yet. So you better hurry your red-dyed, slicked back visage up.” I responded harshly but with a loving lilt to it.

“On my way, woman. Love you, don’t eat my ice cream.” I just huffed, waving him off quickly. “Love you too, you ashy bitch.” I then almost choked on my water when I saw his expression at my words. He grinned and shook his head, pressing his phone against his ear.  

#ashton irwin #ashton 5 seconds of summer #5sos #5sos fic #ashton 5sos #five seconds of summer #ashton irwin x you #bestfriend ashton #based off true events #imagines #5sos imgaines #ashton irwin x reader #reader insert #luke hemmings #calum 5sos #calum hood #not my gif #michael 5sos #luke hemmings imagines #michael clifford x reader

[shainlov]

New Years Exchange!!!

@the-sociopathic-jacket I was your gifter! And this is... longer than it was supposed to, I’m so sorry.

Nemuri never forgave herself, but life moves on.

A year before Midnight joined UA staff, she had a difficult case including her family members that no hero should've go through but it’s just such a common trope.

Nemuri Kayama was forever convinced that the case of Sosuke’s killer was going to forever stay her hardest one. Even five years later, she still grieved the boy she didn’t know until a few brief moments before his demise.

If she were to guess when it all began, it would be when she got involved in the case. Though… Sosuke’s... parents would point at her pathetic hero career and shout that it was then when she went to the hero school when she started... she doomed Sosuke to death... because anyone else would’ve done a better job and saved him.

If she never went to the hero school, Sosuke would’ve never attracted the attention of that villain. Or any villain at all.

If she were a smarter woman, a braver-- If not for her incompetence he'd… well, either way, she’s never been the same.

Kayama saw horrible things, but the death of the young boy taken it’s greatest hit on her yet.

She couldn’t bear the guilt alone... she was very bad at handling her feelings on her own. She depended on people to help her to take care of herself when she was at her worst.

Of course, those people weren’t either Present Mic or Eraserhead, they barely held their emotional baggage. It was her wife who helped her through awful episodes each time.

Midnight was ever so slightly jealously looking at a monitor, watching a disgustingly romantic scene playing out between Ms. Joke and Eraserhead - it was the origin of Emi’s “marry me” joke that she repeated endlessly tormenting both Nemuri and Shouta with.

Both of her... friends were very good actors - convincing enough to make Midnight envious, even a little worried about whether they were genuine. She had to pinch herself to calm down and tell herself that Aizawa Shouta was gay. A few times.

Shouta would never answer to the advances of a person he wasn’t attracted to. Shouta would never try to hurt Nemuri either - hell, he asked many times if she was alright with his part in the operation because he knew of her silly crush.

Other than three of them at the scene, there were also two other underground heroes and a nearby police station on alert, waiting tensely for a signal. One of the extra teammates was inside the bar as an immediate back-up, while Midnight was waiting outside with the other guy. Shouta said he's never seen either of them before. It made Midnight wonder about how big the Underground Agency was.

That’s when Nemuri’s mobile meant for hero-related stuff rang. Excusing herself, she stepped out of the van, gladly distracting herself from the monitors.

“Lovely," She murmured to herself, "who’s this?” She answered in her "Midnight" voice, she didn’t recognize the number. Her fans liked to get her phone number from her agency’s site and call her. Some were sweet, while others just plain creepy.

“Mistress Midnight,” The voice on the other end of the line striked her immediately as someone dangerous. She was pretty good at reading people based off of their voice alone. Nobody in her agency had this voice and only those people addressed her as Mistress. “I’d suggest you come to your office quickly and pick it up, you have a very important message there." The person sounded almost giddy, like a little child who got a treat, or rather, in this situation, left someone a treat and wanted to see their reaction to it. With years of hero training and experience, she formed a suspect’s profile. "Time is extendable, but I don’t have forever.” This could be another freaky fan, but her gut was giving her especially bad vibe. “Ah, and don’t worry, we’re going to meet soon.”

Kayama was confused as to what the hell was that supposed to mean, but for now, she returned to the van. She was still on her mission and she had to keep the watch in case of Shouta and Emi requesting a back-up. Stepping back into the van, she bumped into the underground hero guy.

He shouted at her to get out there and "do her thing" because the operation was going to shit.

Alright then.

Nemuri counted herself as a part of the case ever since the villain called her phone which led her... home. The home of a naive pretty little girl who grew too fond of heroes and aspired to become like them.

Which resulted in the pretty little girl getting kicked out.

At 4 AM, about five hours after apprehending the villain gang and sending them into jail, Nemuri was sitting in her office.

Her leg bouncing as she looked at her phone. She had only a few saved numbers - only people she trusted were there, but there was an exception. There were two numbers saved of people she didn't trust one bit, and the missed calls came from them.

Back then, the agency building was her only home - she had a side room off of her big office - where she lived. Her office was modest, the only pieces of furniture were a desk, three leather armchairs, and her chair on wheels. The walls were covered praising articles and her posters, and also a sue for "too revealing outfit". She won that lawsuit by saying that the costume-regulation laws weren't established yet. They served as amusement for her bad mood.

In her desk's drawer, there were letters from her fans, police officers, some secret admirers and not-so-secret ones. She never responded because of her brand, and the other reason was... well, she was irreversibly lesbian. Male advances flattered her, but she wasn't interested.

"Hard to get" was helping her to sell more merchandise.

Below that drawer, she held some private things - like embarrassing photos of her cousins and aunts - and her identification documents. Only a small fraction though, she knew how things could get messy, and the most important stuff were kept in the side room, where she was the sole person who had access. It was relatively small and consisted of a pull-out couch and a wardrobe, and a small kitchen, and it connected to a bathroom with a shower and bathtub.

She used the shower at around 1 AM and ever since has been sitting motionlessly only changing the object that she was blankly staring at. The leather armchair in her office already dried from the water her wet tangled hair left.

Two notifications read:

You have missed 4 call(s) from Father

You have missed 17 call(s) from Mother

...and Midnight was… puzzled.

What was she supposed to do? The Kayamas have disowned her ages ago! What could’ve they wanted from her? They had everything! She was their disappointment! Her parents disowned her when she got into the hero school because she didn't want to play "status", and "power", and "house".

She disobeyed and went against what her parents thought was best for her. What was she even to them after all? A doll? They've married out of love and she was supposed to be sold? What's fair in that?

Pretty face, no brains and talented at dress-up games - that's what she started as. She still had little to no brain, but she wasn't useless anymore.

Surely, there was no emotional attachment to her. After all, they threw her out of her--their home. Well, not officially, and since that wasn't legal and they didn't want to be labeled as child abusers by abandoning her, they got her an apartment, moved her things and paid for it until she was 21.

She got her act together, unlocked the phone to look at dozens of missed texts.

Most of them were demanding to call back as soon as possible. When that list ended, she noticed the gap between this flood of texts and the last ones she sent them on New Year’s Eve back when she was 22 and hoped that she could fix their relationship... somehow.

So, not minding the hour, she called. It took two attempts - each to different parent - before Mother picked up. Her voice sounded… weary.

“Hello?”

“What happened?” Midnight didn’t quite sit well with the fact she was talking to her parents after promising herself to not look back.

“Nemuri?” The surprise in the woman’s voice that answered the phone was no wonder - she didn’t hear Nemuri’s voice for straight-up over ten years.

“Yeah. Why were you calling me?”

“Well… it’s about Sosuke, yo-- my son.” Nemuri flinched at that.

Of course, her parents wouldn’t know about her being aware of who Sosuke Kayama was. Her mother didn’t tell her she was pregnant, she officially hasn’t met him, she never talked with him. Nemuri was disowned sixteen years ago, and Sosuke was fourteen.

When she heard her mother went into labor, she sneaked into the hospital to greet her replacement and wish him good luck, but after that, she didn’t make any effort to contact him.

“What about him?” She kept her voice flat.

“He’s been kidnapped and it’s your fault.” Kayama Saori’s voice was sweet in her perfume commercials, but now it made Nemuri want to throw up. She leaned forward with her ear pressed to the phone. The heroine didn’t know whether she wanted to start apologizing or to throw the phone yelling that it wasn’t her fault.

“It’s not. Did you call to send me hate mail?” For the first few moments, it didn’t reach Nemuri that she was talking about a kidnapping over a phone. She never came to accept that her mother and father rejected her. So now, thoughts processed slower than usual.

“They want you to be the one to find him. You HAVE TO do this.”

“They?” Nemuri frowned, slightly surprised her mother hasn’t broken into wails yet. That was unusual…

“Yes. Whoever did this.”

It’s a game then?

Midnight bit at her thumb frustrated. Her little brother-- Sosuke was in danger because of her hero career? Was that true?

“I’ll call the police to question you, I am not a detective.” She said simply going for the disconnect button.

“No police or else he will be killed. Hurry.” Her mother hissed before she hung up. That left Nemuri frozen in her seat. So it was because of her.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21848440

#midjoke #midnight x ms joke #bnha #bnha new years exchange #the gift #uwu

[creatingnikki]

Dearest Ann,

I’m writing this letter to you after shedding a few tears because today I hurt the person I love the most. I think for a very long time I have been so caught up with everything I don’t have and everything I used to be and everything that will happen to others and not me that I missed being happy and grateful about the blessings I am showered with daily. I wrote a lot of gratitude lists but I guess that doesn’t help one be truly grateful after all. How does this relate to you or this letter? Well, after the kind of day I have had today, I really didn’t feel like writing any love letters. But I went through the answers I had gotten and reading yours gave me that feeling of comfort and joy in the little things that mean the most and they made my heart a little lighter so here I am writing to you right now. Thank you.

When did you start writing a journal? I used to write in disgustingly cute diaries since I was a very young child but I 100% got into it in 8th grade. I still remember the first journal I bought that I actually wrote in every day and filled up all the pages of. It was sometime during August on the day of Raksha Bandhan. It’s a festival here where sisters tie a sacred thread to their brothers. In return, the brothers promise to protect them and give them a gift. Ignoring the sexist notions of it is easy when you have loving brothers (cousins) as I do and a sister who protects you. Anyway, that year they made sure to give me cash as a gift so I could buy whatever I wanted. And then after we were done with all the customs and rituals we went shopping in the evening. That’s when I bought that journal. I filled it up with all the sweet lies the boys I had crushes on then told me. I filled it up with all the words that made me cry. And all the lyrics that help me be sane. And all the poetry that gave me strength. Ever since then, my journaling habit was solid. Of course, once I entered college and grew up becoming busy and less lonely, I stopped journaling every day. But every time I find myself go into a bad place, I reach out to the only real best friend I have ever had – my journal.

What about you? And have you ever been curious to swap your journal with someone else? I used to read about it in books and see it in movies and I always found it so exhilarating. The idea of doing that gave me more of an adrenaline rush than any adventure sport like sky diving could. The thought of trusting someone with my most innate thoughts and feelings had to be the most courageous thing ever. I think the fear that no one will like me if they actually knew who I really am has been ever present. What about you? What does journaling mean to you? Either way, I do hope it provides you comfort and relief from this ever crazy world.

On a lighter note, Ann, I have been keeping this really tiny journal where I don’t really write as much as I jot down quotes and poetry and words that I come across that hit me. I also randomly illustrate and it’s half-filled now and every time I flip through it, it gives me such joy that I know makes life worth figuring out for. Shall I share something from it with you?

For you who said you eat a lot because you’re lonely For you who said you sleep a lot because you’re bored For you who said you cry a lot because you’re sad

I write to you. Chew your concerned feelings like rice. Because after all, your life is something you have to digest.

- Rice by Chun Yang Hee

It’s translated from Korean so suffice to say a lot of its flow is lost in translation but damn. It hit me. Every sentence from the first stanza made me cry. Whenever we do something irrational people think it’s because we’re crazy. No, you fools, it’s because we are hurting! That’s why we overeat. Oversleep. Cry all the time. But if we have poetry that gets us, souls (people and dogs) that love us unconditionally and wisdom to know that that’s all that truly matters, we will be okay. Right?

And you…you have the strength to do all of that because you have the strength to recognise love even when it’s not requited. So it comforts me to know that you will live a good life – that you already are. Coming home after work to your family and dogs who love you, collecting plushies (love) and journaling, Ann, you’re living a wholesome life and that makes me so happy. Today, I borrow some of that strength from you and promise the universe that I will actively focus more on the things that matter.

To a good life, Ann

Love, Nikki

PS I would love watching Detective Conan! I think that was one of the first anime shows that I fell in love with. The only episode I vividly remember is when he and his friends enter an apparently haunted house and end up finding a mother and son who live there in hiding because the son had killed his father. Do you remember that one?

PPS I highly recommend you to check the Netflix show ‘Anne with an E’. It’s about a smart, brave and fierce girl Anne. And even though you’re Ann without an E, I have a feeling that you’re just as brilliant.

Guys, February is 29 days of love letters. I’m writing love letters, as part of The Love Project, and if you’d like me to write one to you, drop me an email at [email protected]

There are 7 more spots left, and you can still be a part of it if you’d like :D 

I wrote this letter for Ann based on some questions they answered. You can read the questions and their answers here. 

#the love project #29 days of love letters #letter 7 #love letters #let me write you love letters #let me write to you #happy valentines day #valentine's day #valentines day #journalling #hope #creatingnikki