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by-nina · 3 years

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You’ll Be in My Heart

AO3 | FFN Royai Week 2021 | Day 3 – Valediction Rating: T (family issues, politics) Genre: Angst/Hurt/Comfort Word Count: 3,105

“Isabelle, darling,” Riza begins with a great effort to keep her voice even. “You know what Mama and Papa do for work, don’t you?” A pause. “Mama and Papa are working for the country. Many things have happened… that have hurt many people. We want to make things right for them and protect them, even if it’s hard.”

Isabelle looks up and turns to Riza. “Then—then you and Papa aren’t bad people?”

———

Isabelle Mustang is ten years old when Riza Hawkeye, now the First Lady of Amestris, receives an unexpected call in her office. It comes as Riza has just finished facilitating a seminar on the Amestris educational system, when she has a five-minute reprieve before a planning meeting for the country’s Foundation Day. She picks up the phone on the third ring, composed and professional as always:

“Colonel Hawkeye’s office.”

“Your Excellency,” a kind voice says from the other end. “This is Mrs. Phillips. I teach history at Central Primary School.”

“Yes, good afternoon, Mrs. Phillips. What can I do for you?”

There is a pause before the next, carefully spoken words. “I’m calling about your daughter, Your Excellency. I apologize that this is so sudden—you must be terribly busy—but I’m afraid it’s urgent.”

Riza’s breath catches in her throat. There can only be unfortunate news following such a divulgence, but one possibility in particular surfaces far more easily than the others, as if it has just been waiting to do so from the back of her mind. She settles onto an upholstered armchair before swallowing and saying, “No, please. Go on.”

Riza waits.

“Isabelle is quite distressed.” Mrs. Phillips’ voice drops to a near whisper. “We’ve just started our lessons on Ishval.”

Riza’s heart sinks.

Mrs. Phillips speaks with an even, respectful tone that suggests hesitation, a kind of concern that usually comes with reports about a child getting injured or displaying disturbing behavior. There is sympathy and understanding as well—sentiments which Riza has always expected to be directed at her, but which she does not believe she deserves. She would have preferred to be judged more candidly, more harshly for the choices that have created this predicament in the first place.

But as equal parts hardened soldier and devoted mother, Riza suppresses every disparaging thought that might have otherwise frozen her in place. She calmly thanks Mrs. Phillips, assures her that she will be arriving at the school promptly, and ends the call. Walks into her meeting and declares to the officers present that they will be meeting tomorrow instead. Makes a call to the Xingese Embassy and requests that the Führer be allowed to leave this evening's state dinner early so he could attend to urgent matters.

Riza is out of the building in just fifteen minutes. What follows next, however, feels like being suspended in a dream with no real grasp of time. The drive to Central Primary School is excruciatingly slow—whether she ought to blame the car, the roads, or her rusty reflexes from not having taken the wheel since becoming First Lady, she isn’t quite sure. The walk through the school’s hallways is even worse. She struggles to ignore about a hundred pairs of eyes following her to the principal’s office, both surprised and concerned.

Isabelle looks much like her father, with her dark head of hair and almond-shaped eyes that always look curious and focused. But her hair is short, styled exactly like Riza’s at the same age, and her eyes are brown instead of her father’s dark gray. It could have broken Riza to see her like this, withdrawn into her small frame and her face red from fighting back tears, but she doesn’t falter.

“Isabelle,” Riza says gently, crouching before her. She brushes Isabelle’s fringe away from her face, where her hand rests to rub her daughter’s cheek with her thumb. “Isabelle, darling, I’m here.”

Only when Isabelle leans forward from her seat does Riza take her into her arms. She realizes that her heart is racing as harshly as Isabelle is trembling, and she tightens the embrace. She can’t even imagine letting go.

Riza speaks briefly to Mrs. Phillips and the principal. Mrs. Phillips explains in hushed tones how the lesson on Ishval began, how Isabelle absorbed and participated in the lesson, and what her classmates said. The questions and whispers about the Hero of Ishval and the Hawk’s Eye were not quite accusations, but the children—no doubt having heard stories from their parents, especially those who had served in the military at one point—pressed on and on with their typical bluntness and intense curiosity. That was enough, Mrs. Phillips says, to reduce Isabelle to tears by the end of the lesson.

Isabelle hardly speaks for the rest of the afternoon, answering Riza’s careful questions only with single words or a nod or shake of the head. When they arrive at the presidential mansion, Isabelle immediately retreats to her room. Riza escorts her to the door, then thinks it best to let her have time to herself. She returns in the evening to call Isabelle to dinner, only to find that Isabelle hasn’t even touched the pie and juice that were sent to her in the afternoon.

Riza sits quietly by Isabelle’s bed, holding her sleeping daughter’s hand. They stir when the door opens and Roy enters, still dressed in his suit from the state dinner with the Xingese Embassy. He appears composed, all of him but his troubled eyes.

“Papa,” Isabelle says, her voice breaking.

Roy strides over to the bed, where Isabelle flings her arms around him when he has barely sat on the edge. She shakes and cries and Roy holds her closely as he whispers into her hair, “It’s all right now, my sunshine. You’ll be all right.”

Riza joins him on the side where he sits. One hand on Isabelle’s back, another on Roy’s arm, she looks at him quietly, and he knows exactly what she means the moment their eyes meet. His expression tenses.

They allow Isabelle to continue crying until her sobs subside from exhaustion. Roy lifts her from where she sits, and she adjusts accordingly as he sets her on his lap, between himself and Riza. He pulls out a handkerchief from the pocket of his trousers, then dabs at her tears carefully as he coaxes her, “Will you tell Papa what happened?”

Isabelle sniffles. “We… we learned about Ishval in class today. Just like y-you and Mama always talked about.”

“I see. What did you learn about Ishval?”

“Well… they said the Ishvalans h-had their own culture, and they prayed to th-their own god. And soldiers—soldiers killed many Ishvalans because they wanted to—to take the Ishvalans’ land a-and culture away.” Her voice grows thick as she continues, “And the other—the other children s-said—the other children said—that—”

“Mm-hmm?”

“They said—th-that you and Mama—you killed many people—”

Isabelle’s words are lost to her renewed sobs. She bawls, burying her face in Roy’s shirt as Riza leans against her back with a comforting squeeze of her arm, and Roy pulls mother and daughter together into a tight embrace. It takes a few moments for Riza to notice that Roy’s hand is cold as it digs into her shoulder, and it takes her everything she has to fight back tears of her own. I’m here, she desperately thinks as she reaches for his wrist and squeezes it. You and I are here together.

Isabelle looks up and turns to Riza. “Then—then you and Papa aren’t bad people?”

Riza’s breath seems to catch in her chest. Roy takes a deep breath as he strokes Isabelle’s hair. “Mama and Papa… have done things that we regret. We never wanted to do them, but back then we had no choice. It’s… complicated, but it doesn’t excuse any of those things that we did.” He draws another deep, shaky breath. “All that we can do is to work with our people to make sure that those who have been hurt—like the Ishvalans—that they can heal. And we want to make sure that those bad things will never happen again.” He cradles Isabelle’s cheek in one hand. “Do you trust us to do that?”

Their daughter doesn’t say another word. She weeps into his shoulder once again, falling asleep after what seems like a half hour that is silent except for her sniffles and hiccups. Roy and Riza gently tuck Isabelle under the covers, each leaving a kiss on her forehead, but neither can find the strength to leave right after that.

Riza sits at the edge of the bed and stares for a long time at Isabelle’s face. She appears so peaceful in sleep, even with the traces of tears that have been left behind.

“We did everything we could.”

Roy settles just behind her. He reaches around Riza to take and kiss her hand; his warmth is a comfort as he leans towards her. “I know. We always knew this day would come. We’ve been preparing her for this for a long time, but there’s nothing we can do about what other people will say about us.”

“And even if it’s not how we would have wanted to tell her everything, it’s still the truth.”

Riza’s heart seems to burn with dread. An old, familiar feeling that has stayed with her since the day Isabelle was born, even though in her heart of hearts she still hoped that the singular, unprecedented course of her life might run against her expectations. But what else could the impassioned risks that she and Roy took have led to? What other consequence is there for trusting each other so wholly that they have given away too much—all of themselves in doing so?

What else could happen now but the worst possible thing?

“Oh, Roy.” Riza’s voice shakes as tears escape her for the first time today—the first in a long time. “I can’t bear to lose her."

———

Isabelle Mustang is eighteen years old when she arrives at the Resembool campus of the University of Amestris, not in the least bit anxious about living away from home for the first time in her life. She sits at the back of an official state car between her mother and father. Not much has been said throughout the trip, other than how pleasant it is to live in the East and that it’s an ideal place for a well-rounded, immersive education. To Isabelle’s left, Riza has her hand locked in a tight grasp; to her right, Roy sits perfectly still.

Riza has never felt a greater divide between herself and her daughter before today. No one can say that she and Roy never tried to relieve their daughter’s anxieties about their time in Ishval. They have spent the better part of the past eight years speaking more openly about the realities of war, as well as the worldly conditions that surround it. They’ve allowed her a glimpse into the Ishval Restoration Program, provided her with learning materials and taken her along on a number of trips to Ishval and surrounding communities to gain better appreciation of Ishval’s past and the government’s future plans for it. They have kept no secret of every sacrifice they’ve made for more than half of their lives in order to atone for their sins in Ishval.

If it all had worked, Isabelle would not have grown distant from them as she grew older and formed more opinions about the world, especially on its injustices. She would not have kept bearing the wounds caused by the knowledge of what her parents have done and of the permanence of a thousand lives lost against her own rather privileged upbringing. Isabelle has learned all that she could about both sides of this great tragedy; Riza and Roy understand where her heart lies.

Riza squeezes Isabelle’s hand as they approach the university’s dormitory, as though hoping that it might freeze time in the present. She lets go only when the car pulls up by the entrance, then alights first to make way for Isabelle. It’s one of those moments when Riza is reminded of just how much her daughter has grown; she is nearly as tall as Riza now, her features sharper and even closer to Roy’s. Her hair, now shoulder-length, has lightened into a shade of brown that matches her eyes. And Riza finds it difficult to ignore how growing up with a great emotional burden has given Isabelle a hardened look—one that Riza knows all too well from her own difficult youth.

She brushes Isabelle’s hair out of her face with both hands, then rests them on her daughter’s shoulders. “Home isn’t going to be the same without you, my love.”

Isabelle purses her lips and briefly casts her eyes downwards before responding. “You and Papa will be all right.”

Riza draws a breath far too sharp.

“You know that you can always transfer to the campus in Central next year. Or next semester.” It’s a futile wish, and Riza knows it. “Well, write and call home, won’t you?”

Before Isabelle has a chance to respond, another car door opens. Roy exits, quickly striding around the car from his side to join mother and daughter at the steps leading up to the dormitory. The cap that he wears with his uniform is drawn low over his forehead, almost concealing his eyes.

He grasps Isabelle by the arms, sparing a long moment to take in the sight of her from head to toe, before enveloping her in an embrace. “Take care of yourself,” he whispers. His voice is low, so controlled that it comes out strangled. “I love you.”

The moment ends quickly, far too quickly. Isabelle bows her head respectfully as she backs away, then turns and enters the dormitory without saying another word. She doesn’t stop, doesn’t look over her shoulder, doesn’t turn back to give a belated response to any of her parents’ well-wishes. Riza feels her chest sting with every step Isabelle takes, wondering for the hundredth time how this farewell could have turned out differently.

Beside Riza, Roy’s fingers find and intertwine with hers. Even after many years, they are not any less surreptitious about their displays of affection.

His voice breaks as he says, “She won’t even look at me.”

Riza holds on to him—to what little is still keeping her heart together.

———

Today, Isabelle Mustang is twenty-eight years old.

In the hot Ishvalan sun, it’s evident just how much she has grown from a troubled young girl into her own woman. There is a deep flush on her face from the desert heat, a firmness in the way she walks that comes from having done diligent field work and immersion among common folk. She has somewhat grown out of the physical features she inherited from her parents, but she has never looked more like them than she does today. Her focused eyes are her father’s; the compassion behind them, her mother’s.

It has been six years since Isabelle moved out of the presidential mansion and last spoke to either Riza or Roy. Today is the first time that they are wholly seeing her as the person she has been molded into by her experiences. Each step in her life has brought her heart closer to Ishval and the dream of seeing it restored to its former glory—from her degree in psychological anthropology to her activism in an organization that has been campaigning for the peaceful secession of Ishval from Amestris.

Today, she is far more than either of them have ever hoped to be.

Isabelle takes her place on the stage of the Kanda Amphitheater in the region’s capital. Before an enthusiastic crowd, she is introduced as one of a small number of Amestrians who will be serving as peace ambassadors for Ishval, as ordained by the Ishvalans themselves in preparation for their transition into an independent state over the next few years. An Ishvalan leader prays over the ceremony, giving praise for this historical moment that has at last truly begun the process of healing among his people. A new beginning that comes after decades of unfruitful compromises and reforms.

It’s a significant crossroads in the complicated history of Ishval, just as much as it is a turning point in the path that Riza and Roy have taken for most of their lives. The years had proven to them how difficult it truly was to forge a future that would best serve the interests of all their people, but perhaps more importantly, it has exposed the harsh reality that even though they share their dreams with other people, this did not guarantee that any of their plans would be perfect, or that everyone would follow the same path of peace that she and Roy had determined. Isabelle is perhaps the best example of this—Isabelle, who never found a place in governance the way they did, whose place has always been firmly with and among the Ishvalans moving towards a more progressive future than the Amestris government could have ever given them.

But these differences hardly matter in the present amid this celebration of a new dawn for Amestris and Ishval. Riza joins Roy in completing one of their remaining functions as the last appointed Führer and First Lady of Amestris. They meet and congratulate each member of the Ishvalan interim government and their peace ambassadors, and they come face to face with their daughter for the first time in a long time.

There are no embraces between them now, no loving caresses, no words exchanged even in greeting. It’s enough for Riza and Roy to shake Isabelle’s hand in turn, to share only the quickest of glances with her, because she must know by their eyes how proud they are of her. She must know how grateful they are that she has dreamed more selflessly than they ever have, and how despite all the years that she has been separated from them, their love for her has never wavered.

Still, Riza and Roy watch Isabelle leave after the ceremony the same way she did when she first entered university all those years ago: back turned, eyes set resolutely on the path before her. It may run in a different direction from theirs after today, perhaps for a long time—however long it would take them all to truly heal from their estrangement—but it is a path that they trust because Isabelle has chosen it for herself.

Wherever it may end, however long it may take, surely this path will someday lead her home.

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aconstantstateofbladerunner · 4 years

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101 Open MHA Gen Prompts

I had a very long ask game where people gave me fake titles and I came up with fic ideas to go with them. Multiple people asked to use some of them as prompts, and some of my friends have lately maligned the lack of gen prompts out there, so I decided to compile them all into a single post. Almost all of these are gen, aka not shipping, but you can do what you want I’m not your boss. Everything is free and open to use WITH CREDIT, so have fun with my word vomit.

1. In Dreams I Had the Sun - Being the number one hero isn’t all it’a cracked up to be, Toshinori realizes early on

2. The Chainlink Fence that Held the Ocean - In his new book post-retirement, All Might opens up about his regrets, struggles with mental health, and his issues with the hero system as a whole. The backlash is swift and intense.

3. Welcome to the Loud Silence - After an injury, Izuku is rendered deaf.

4. Water Since Turned Red - After a villain attack nearly kills All Might, the beach where Izuku used to go to find comfort now feels tainted.

5. all scrap left untouched is bound together - A group hero students who failed the provincial license exam for the third time, effectively ending their careers before they start, get together to take revenge on UA’s first years who beat them out.

6. You’ve saved more more times than you know - Times All Might saved people without his powers, just by being a cool, nice dude.

7. No Amount of Tragedy Can Justify Your Actions - A dying All for One tries to justify his centuries of cruelty to an uncaring Toshinori.

8. To Leave a Cage Locked - One for All is conscious and has a will of its own, one that doesn’t always line up with Izuku’s wellbeing.

9. Okay, who let in the Kraken? - Izuku is the reincarnation of an ancient eldritch horror.

10. keep us alive up above - Izuku and Shigaraki get trapped together somewhere. Izuku knows he needs the villain’s help to survive and escape, but the other would rather they both die.

11. The world will revolve around me neither less - The ebbs and flows of AFO’s influence over the years.

12. More Roulette, Not Russian - Kids get their quirks swapped.

13. Patron Saints - Toshinori teaches a class about pre-quirk superhero comic characters and their influence.

14. Don't Come Back - Touya Todoroki’s first few weeks after a severe injury resulted in his father abandoning him.

15. The Blessed and the Fool - Toshinori meets up with a few of his ua classmates after retiring.

16. Not Your Sacrifice - Some of the other kids have started adopting some of Izuku’s self sacrificing habits and the teachers are concerned.

17. Break in the Storm - Villains use a power outage as an opening to break into ua.

18. One Day Those Consequences Will Finally Catch Up - Even though the teachers don’t take her concerns seriously, Inko saves every piece of evidence regarding people hurting her son.

19. a garden in their eyes - Izuku meets a fan who got injured after trying to step into a villain fight, just like he did, and it makes him question some things.

20. what could have been, if not for you - After Inko divorces him, Hisashi’s goes to the press to say All Might stole his wife and son.

21. Promised Misery - All Might finds out the severity of Bakugou’s bullying, and warns him he’s on thin ice with him.

22. Fly Up Higher, Blossom Brighter - Izuku has to write a paper for middle school about being positive, intercut with all the bullshit he has to deal with.

23. Libre Me from Hell - One of Izuku’s new quirks is spiral related.

24. No One to Blame but Yourself - Izuku’s kindness doesn’t extend to murderers, tragic backstory or not.

25. At Its Finest - Izuku accidentally gets involved in a hero commission coverup.

26. A Rising Issue - Izuku starts developing more severe side effects of his injuries. He’s convinced he’s under the influence of a quirk, while the adults thing he’s finally gone too far hurting himself.

27. What you are in the Dark - Izuku usually keeps most of his anger to himself until he can’t.

28. nowhere to go - Inko moves into UA after their home was destroyed.

29. Something Without - My theory about the 2 OFA vestiges that are blurred out is they don’t approve of izuku as a successor. Izuku tries to figure out why.

30. Walking with a Ghost - Toshinori joins the OFA dreams while he’s in a coma. He gets to reunite with nana, and is more open to Izuku about his past and feelings. Part of his starts to wonder if it’s worth waking up, since he will die and join the others eventually.

31. Death By Crying - Izuku is affected by a quirk that will suffocate him if he expresses any emotion.

32. Justice is Subjective - The hero commission gets to Shigaraki before AFO does.

33. Undo / Underdog - Death loop fic. Izuku keeps reliving the day he met all might after being killed by the sludge villain. he has to find a way to break the loop and survive, but he gets s little weaker every time he restarts.

34. Like Wildfire - A rumor that Izuku is All Might’s bio son picks up steam, and the characters have to decide whether to deny it but risk suspicion or play along and add a new layer to the lies protecting one for all.

35. Once Upon A December - All Might and Inko actually met in the past trope.

36. Some Legends Are Told - All Might’s first interview post-retirement.

37. Will The Real Mentor Please Stand Up - Aizawa considers himself the better teacher, but a lot of the kids seem to like All Might more.

38. I don't want the cure, I want the POISON! - Inko is killed in a hit and run, and Izuku becomes desperate to find the killer.

39. I will kill my heart before I dance on stage for these bigots - Izuku is interviewed as a rising star of UA, and the interviewer brings in some of his old bullies because they claimed to be his friends from middle school. Izuku does not play along.

40. Split Ends - A quirk gives Izuku brief visions of what would have happened if he made different decisions.

41. Dreamless Sleep - A One for All dream leaves Izuku with a cryptic half-warning, and he desperately experiments to try and figure out how to trigger the visions to get the rest of it.

42. toxic flowers and pretty blades - Young Inko escapes the constricting life of her cruel wealthy family by becoming a vigilante.

43. The Suns we Orbit - Some of the other teachers believe Izuku is too codependent on Toshinori, and separate them for a time.

44. Submerged - Similar to those buried alive fics only someone’s in a box at the bottom of the ocean.

45. Deprive - Izuku also loses his stomach to an injury, and struggles to adjust to the necessary lifestyle changes.

46. The ashes fall like snow - Post Kamino cleanup.

47. Home will always be here - Inko cares for Izuku after he’s sent home due to “trouble at work study” but he refuses to clarify what that means.

48. Playing Favorites - A look at several times where Izuku was punished, while Bakugou got off scot free.

49. Elusive Dreams - Some kind of training or issue forces the kids to stay away for several consecutive day, and they start losing it.

50. Fracture - Izuku struggles through physical therapy after a severe injury that leaves his hero career in question.

51. Starlight, Starbright - Space cadet au

52. Someone in Your Corner - Gran Torino looking after Nana, Toshi, and finally Izuku through the years.

53. I cast magic missile into the darkness - Generic “the gang plays d&d” fic.

54. One Month At A Time - Izuku breaks a limb, and has to let in heal naturally over the course of several months.

55. Head Above Water - Izuku runs out of his pain meds and can’t get access to more doses for a while, so he has to endure not only the pain, but the withdrawal symptoms.

56. Are you going to leave a path to trace - All Might uses a new strategy to try and get Izuku to be less self sacrificial: what about all the young kids who are going to look up to him?

57. The View from Halfway Down - Izuku realizes that a risky move has just landed him with a potentially life threatening injury, but the fight it still going.

58. The Dust Bites Back - A villain All Might defeated early in his career is back and out for revenge.

59. The Absence of your Worth - Nighteye thinks he’s put together a rock solid case for why izuku isn’t worthy of One for All. All Might’s response is to ask if he has something against quirkless people.

60. Behind the Screens Nobody is Afraid - All Might explains some of the context of his most popular hero videos to Izuku. They are much more tragic than the media has spun them in hindsight.

61. Under the Light of the Moon - Someone gets turned into a werewolf. And I ain’t talking the wattpad piss shit. I’m talking full-on back-breaking monstrous transformations into a bloodthirsty abomination set to Bad Moon Rising.

62. some dreams were made to be broken - Bakugou crosses a line and finally gets expelled.

63. You Say You're Into Closure - Izuku finally beats Bakugou in a one on one fight fair and square, but Bakugou is a sore loser.

64. Something or Someone Missing - AU’s memories of Izuku get wiped, but those closest to him can’t help but feel an absence.

65. Too Little Too Late - Izuku’s father returns to find he’s been replaced.

66. Collecting Dust - Inko goes through the stuff Izuku didn’t take to the dorms.

67. Where the souls of wanderers go - Toshi meets up with a retired hero support group.

68. Fragility of Trust - Suspected traitor au

69. no one answered - Izuku is trapped in a cell in a building that’s collapsing in slow motion due to a quirk.

70. Eye of the Storm - One of the other kids has a panic attack for the first time between public appearances. izuku has never seen from from the outside.

71. To Whom It May Concern - The kids find a mysterious collection of letters from previous students hidden in the ceiling of the classroom. Some are ominous, some are incomprehensible. Aizawa has no answers. They enthusiastically go to try and solve the mystery within, but that excitement quickly diminishes the more they find out.

72. Of Popsicles and Ponytails - All Might gets in a discussion with the other teachers about whether the Clark Kent glasses thing would actually work. All Might bets them it does, so he goes around town with no disguise other than his hair being up, and no one bats an eye.

73. All Men are Not Born Equal - Word gets out to the public that izuku used to be quirkless. Everyone finds out just how deep anti-quirkless sentiments run when some begin to question whether a quirkless kid should be at ua, regardless of whether or not he has a quirk now.

74. Childhood is the kingdom where nobody dies - Something about encountering death in person for the first time being the dividing line between child and adult.

75. Sins of the Father - All for One has had many children over the centuries, and has made numerous attempts to groom them into the ideal heir with several different methods. None of them worked though.

76. Where The Dead Come To Rest - The kids come home after a long, grueling mission where they saw some shit, and are too tired to process what they went through. They take off their gear for plain clothes, then sit in the common room in silence long into the night, not wanting to open themselves up but also not wanting to be alone.

77. Rivalry - Nighteye tries to pit Izuku and Mirio against one another. It goes right over Mirio’s head, but Izuku becomes convinced the other boy is in on Nighteye’s plan to wear him down until he gives up One for All.

78. A Subtle Language - All Might and Nana never said out loud that they loved each other, but little things told them that they did. All Might hopes to pass a similar love down to his own successor. But Izuku is very different than himself as a kid, and he needs to learn a new subtle language of affection.

79. It’s Gone - One for All stops working one day.

80. A Sight For Sore Eyes - All Might looking after Izuku in the aftermath of the second movie.

81. Loose Lips (sink ships) - Bakugou blurts out something about One for All during a rage, so the rest of the class jump on him and Izuku for answers.

82. No Expectations - Word gets out that All Might is going to choose a successor. None of the theories or speculation online resemble Izuku in the slightest.

83. Eden was Only a Garden - Izuku gets hit with a quirk that erases some of his most traumatic memories, but in doing so loses part of who he is.

84. Run it Down - With all Izuku’s new quirks and his incredible skill, some of the other students with similar powers (Iida, Sero, Uraraka) start to feel like izuku is upstaging them. And it affects their friendship.

85. Fool's Gold - Bakugou grows even more jealous of Izuku having One for All, and his relationship with All Might. He thinks that if he could just prove himself to be more worthy, All Might would change his mind and name him his successor. But in reality, he ends up jeopardizing the relationship they already have.

86. somewhere down the road - The final deadline for Nighteye’s predictions passes, and All Might lives. He debates telling Izuku, as even though it would be a weight off the boy’s mind, he doesn’t want to jinx it. He will still die eventually after all.

87. Just For You - All Might has certain rules and boundaries for fan interactions that he completely ignores for Izuku.

88. if these walls could talk (their whispers would be maddening) - Montage of training accidents in a ‘cursed’ ua gym

89. If Only I Could... - Nighteye tells Mirio about One for All, including that he thinks he’s more deserving than Izuku and he plans to pressure him into giving it up. Mirio struggles with the knowledge that his mentor, someone he respected more than anything, only saw him as a replacement for All Might, meanwhile watching Izuku strain under the pressure of that mentor’s impossible expectations.

90. This is a Test Designed to Provoke an Emotional Response - shameless Blade Runner AU

91. Once and for All - Retelling of the Superman story “What’s So Funny About Truth, Justice, and the American Way?” with All Might. Some new heroes use much more aggressive and violent tactics against villains while also upstaging All Might. That, and there general approval from the public cause All Might to question his moral code.

92. Sitting In The Rain - Tsuyu likes to just sit out in the rain sometimes. Not do anything, just sit there. Some friends decide to join her.

93. At Sundown - Mysterious creatures start attacking ua every night. The gang works tirelessly during the day to find the cause and a solution, while defending their school and each other at night.

94. The 1000th time's the charm - Uraraka has been practicing a new move in secret but they just can’t get it right. She wants it to be perfect before showing it off. But one attempt gets her seriously hurt while training alone at night in one of the gyms, and she’s too hurt to get up to the phone to call for help.

95. Sunflower Seeds - All Might attempts to start a garden as a new hobby.

96. What It Means To Be Human - Sun god Toshi starts living among people.

97. Eyes on Me - All Might teaches Izuku some unarmed fighting moves to defend himself from bullies.

98. one remains - Izuku has developed all but one of the quirks he’s slated to, and he has no idea what it will be. Anxiety ensues.

99. Come Back Home - Izuku vanishes from campus and everyone assumes he was kidnapped, but in reality he ran away to try and clear his head after a depressive spiral. He goes by train as far away as he can until he comes to his senses and calls the others.

100. I Won - Izuku accidentally managed to kill Shigaraki during a skirmish, and while everyone around him praises his heroics, he struggles to deal with the fact that he killed someone.

101. Ivory Tower - All Might grapples with how much izuku suffered as a quirkless person, how he could have done more for quirkless rights in his time as a hero, and how now people may not care as much because he’s retired.

Reminder to credit me if you use any of these prompts, and a special thanks to everyone who submitted titles!

#mha #bnha #mha prompts #bnha prompts #mha fanfiction #bnha fanfiction #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #dad might #all might #toshinori yagi #midoriya izuku #deku #bakugou katsuki #aconstantstateoffanfiction

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hisunshiine · 3 years

Text

Money Heist | knj | Part 1

moodboard 1 | moodboard 2 | playlist | Netflix ReImagined BTS Masterlist

↳ #NetflixReImaginedBTS: Kim Namjoon x Reader starring in a bank robbery au

↳ M-18+, implied sexual content, major character deaths, bank robbery actions (violence, use of weapons, deciet)

The Professor’s Rules

Rule #1 - No real names Rule #2 - No falling in love Rule #3 - Absolute trust Rule #4 - No games Rule #5 - Follow the plan, throughout Rule #6 - No taking lives, no civils Rule #7 - Low profile Rule #8 - Memorize the plan Rule #9 - Codes, escape routes Rule #10 - Blend

Prologue: Dread was not the right word to use to express how I felt. Every waking moment was an uncertainty. Every passing day I had to look over my shoulder. Senses on high alert, heart-pounding fiercer, I had to stay sharp. All I had to rely on was my intuition, rationality, the rush of adrenaline as it pumped through my veins as it guided me to safety.

There was no room for fuckups. Rules were set in place before, during, and after the heist. The Professor made sure of it.

Everything was methodically thought out. There was zero tolerance for anything that steered from what already was part of the Professor’s plan. Every detail was thoroughly calculated, gone through numerous times until perfected, and every possible scenario or turn the heist could go, the Professor had already considered it.

When I met him, I guessed him to be someone who was reserved. That initial thought, however, remained throughout the months I spent and got to know him. Regardless of my attempts to loosen him up, he grew more inward. A timid and quiet man, one I could not quite figure out despite my intuitive bullshit radar. My instincts told me otherwise. The Professor was someone I could trust. Moreover, he was someone who had my back if the going ever got tough.

Even after I had broken one of his sacred rules, he kept me around.

He stated it was solely because of my natural blend-ability. In other words, I was the type of person who could go unnoticed and get away with things. Although originally offended, one of the Daegu brothers – during our first meetings – mockingly pointed out my pretty privilege, claiming it was a universal thing to bend the rules and show favoritism to people that society deemed as attractive.

It bothered me to my core but despite it – and as the only woman on the team – I had to admit, I could complete missions and do things the others were not able to. Because of this, I was an asset regardless of how many rules I broke.

I was aware of it being careless, stupid even. It was not something that was planned, it was merely something that happened beyond my control. It occurred and I did not regret it one bit.

Love always seemed to happen at the least likely places. It was not a foreign concept to me, neither were relationships. In fact, I cherished everything about love and my language of expression was forever limitless.

When I was introduced to the other members the Professor carefully handpicked for the heist, I was taken aback by their charms and charisma.

They were handsome, all six of them; each with their own styles and skills to assist the Professor and his master plan. Some of them knew each other from rumors or past jobs and others did not.

I worked alone, always had and always would.

The day the Professor recruited me, he had asked to meet him at Chateau de Foix, a castle in France. He had sneakily placed a note in my jacket as I was scouting a Chanel store intending to rob it days later. I was not sure what I was getting into but before even meeting him, he assured me with his note that he could make me wealthier than I could ever contemplate. So, I met him at Chateau de Foix.

I was interested. He caught my attention.

He did not disclose much until he was certain I was someone who he could trust. Honestly, I could not blame him. Partners were not my thing, especially partnering with a man. There was something about them that made my skin crawl. When it came to men and money, there was always one certain thing; they would fuck you over.

The Professor laid out pieces of his plan and as obscure and ambitious as it was, I kind of felt intrigued by his nerdy appearance, his hesitation to look me in the eye, how well-spoken he was and how greatly he sold his plan.

Again, he caught my attention.

Luckily, he had informed me where the next meeting would be and that I was the only woman on the team. He requested I thought it over and I did. I flew to South Korea. That was where the plan had to take place.

At first, I could not escape the futile catcalls or misogynistic remarks. The Professor was too much of a beta to control the dominant thieves who thought they knew better than most.

The worst one was the man with the effortless beauty and striking features. At first glance, he did not look Korean. GC as we called him, or Geochang County as the Professor had dubbed him. Younger brother to Daegu and quite frankly, a little too handsy for my liking and too excited to see a pair of tits on the team. So, I did what I had to ensure my survival and role as well as what I did not tolerate.

He did not appreciate the sass and the chokehold on his intimate part as I stood my ground.

Since then, no one had attempted to try my patience. In fact, all the teasing became just that, teasing … with zero malice or ill intentional comments. They were guys around me, sure, but they became mindful, more tolerable. Exactly how I preferred my men.

For months, I spent time with the six guys including the Professor as we prepared to rob the Bank of Korea. I got to know them individually and I had to admit they were starting to feel like family.

The Professor had set us up at Jindo, a remote island known for its parting sea during the spring season. He had rented a beach house and from there we listened as the Professor disclosed his plan, made the necessary preparations such as getting familiar with the bank, its routines, staff, and much more.

Busan, Seoul, and I would often get paired when a trip to the Bank of Korea was presented.

Busan was a mastermind in human behavior and expertly designed profiles of everyone that worked at the bank; from cleaners to CEOs. If you ever wondered or had questions about anyone going in and out of the bank, Busan was the man to call.

Despite his small size and soft features, he was a man who could not tolerate disadvantages. Knowledge was power he would often say especially during a heist and he would stride for perfection.

He was smart.

I did not think of making profiles for the law enforcement that would be called to deal with the hostage situation we would inevitably have to take to secure our survival. But Busan did. He knew exactly who the bank would call, their past, their marital status, the number of kids, he knew everything.

He was an asset.

Seoul, however, possessed something that completely went over my head. Technology. At first glance, I guessed him to be an assassin of some sort.

He was the quietest of the group and the hardest man to get close to. Despite his big eyes and tattoos, he was extremely fun to be around. Once he opened up, I realized my instincts about him were a tad off. Although a part of me questioned my abilities, I came to the realization that looks could be deceiving. Seoul was someone who did not open up as easily as the rest and had to assess his environment first.

I was much like him and because of this, he and I became the closest.

The technology was not my strongest suit but it was his. Every trip we made to the capital, he gained more knowledge about the bank and the software they used including hacking their system, so we could gain access to the security cameras.

The Professor was beside himself when he received the live footage of the bank. This meant we did not have to expose ourselves by making those trips to the capital but could spy on everyone from the comfort of our beach house.

I was relieved. Unlike Busan and Seoul, I had to be the one to risk everything and use my abilities and go inside the bank. The Professor had bought wigs and often I would rotate them with each trip but that did not stop my heart from beating faster than it ever had.

A thief afraid of getting caught, Busan would joke often in my earpiece but the Bank of Korea was something far greater than the high-end stores I used to steal from. It was a different level and the consequence of getting caught was larger than a meaningless brand shop.

Once the dust settled and we gathered some information, part two of the Professor’s plan could start. Breaking in the bank and taking hostages as leverage was the easiest part. Once inside, we had to establish some kind of order. The Professor would be on the outside helping the rest coordinate from within while being the voice of the heist.

I caught him blankly staring at the vision board he often used like a teacher standing in front of his class, deep in thought as his eyes wandered across the whiteboard, “Can I help?”

“No, I’m thinking.”

“Need help thinking?” I teasingly suggested the wine bottle I was drinking from.

“Once inside, what is your job?”

“The hostages with GC.”

“Why?”

I shrugged as I took a sip. The Professor ripped his gaze from the board and glared at me. He was not in the mood for my games. Something was bothering him. So, I sighed, “We both can handle a gun, GC isn’t afraid to use it. By having one of each gender there, the women will feel safer and the men won’t try anything.”

“And?”

“And we are the calm and order. Our job is to keep them quiet and put the fear of God in them.”

“And you?” he murmured as he placed his index finger on the bridge of his nose, keeping his glasses from falling, “I am sure there will be arguments and disagreements once you get inside. There’s no going around that fact. All of you have some kind of experience but most of you are hot-headed. Who will put the fear of God in you? As you eloquently said. Who?”

“Gwacheon is the oldest.” The Professor stood up after my answer. I watched him as he began to collect his things from the desk before he excused himself, “Where do you plan on going?” I asked as I followed him to the front door.

“I’ll be back in a couple of days.”

“You didn’t answer my question.” He reached for his jacket and told me to trust him and take a break until he returned before leaving for an unknown mission.

A couple of days turned into a week. The Professor was gone and some of the other guys grew agitated. Some questioned him and his plan while others, including myself, did as he had asked and took a break.

Gwacheon, the oldest and the most level-headed person on the team, was lounging by the bonfire created for the dinner he was preparing. Loyal to the Professor as I was, he went ahead and took his suggestion.

Everyone was desperate for a break. It had been months of planning and thinking of every detail. A break was welcomed, needed.

Gwacheon had planned a dinner for the team and was thrilled to have some downtime. With beers in the cooler, the sun setting beyond the horizon, and a cozy fire, he began to season the beef as he hollered for me to start the music. The Professor was on my mind. So, in honor of him, I played ‘Bella Ciao’ by Manu Pilas. He was far from home as was I and although he was not around at the moment to enjoy the festivities with us, I knew he was with us in spirit.

I tapped on Gwacheon’s broad shoulder and he shot an amused smile. The Latin vibes of the upbeat song made me dance with soju in my hand. Allowing the Spanish words to energize and elevate my mood as I poorly attempted to sing along. He laughed at my dance but could not help swing his hips along to the beat.

My eyes then caught Daegu’s as he was assembling a gun. He smiled and shot me a quick nod to sit by him.

I eyed him as he began to pick the L85 apart before placing it in front of me. I raised an eyebrow at him, he chuckled while gesturing I gave it a shot. Proclaiming it was better to be prepared for a situation rather than a situation unfolding and remaining oblivious.

From the moment I met him, I knew he was the real deal, even heard rumors about the great mastermind who stole the Hope Diamond. When questioning him in my drunken state, Daegu simply flashed me a gummy smile. I was not too sure what that meant but I was certain he was someone who was legit and that I could potentially learn a lot from. I did.

Daegu was the kind of man who kept to himself, quiet and reserved like the Professor but he did not shy away from passing down his experiences and knowledge. I often caught myself wondering how polar opposite he was from his brother, GC. Daegu struck me as someone methodical with his approach while GC was spontaneous. But as the Professor ensured, GC had something most in the team did not have; quick thinking, unique perspectives, and the kind of smarts that could never be taught.

“Go ahead,” Daegu said as GC came into view with Gwangju carrying bowls of rice, kimchi, and steamed vegetables.

I grabbed the disassembled parts and attempted to assemble them to my best capabilities. Daegu grinned and GC approached the table. He waited a moment and watched as I struggled with the parts until he groaned and grabbed the gun from me.

Swiftly, he assembled the gun while casually counting in his native tongue, “Samshipil,” he announced as he slid the gun back to me, “31 seconds.”

“That’s a record,” Daegu smiled at his brother.

“I don’t know what the Professor was on but I doubt you’ll get any hostage to take you seriously if you can’t even do that.”

“Don’t listen to him. He’s a prick,” Daegu shot his brother a glare, “We have time,” he began to disassemble the gun once more, “Try again.”

I was grateful for Daegu’s patience. Although I had some knowledge of firearms, I tended not to use them during my ventures. A small pocket pistol was always in my bag and I could operate it. However, these types of guns were far from anything I had experienced, bigger too.

Luckily though, Daegu was a trained assassin and this was his specialty. He along with Gwacheon and Gwangju had pulled off heists before; together as well as separate. In other words, they were the experts on the team.

Daegu and Gwangju had a friendship like no other and had often saved each other from dire situations. They had worked multiple jobs together and relied on one another in admirable ways. For a moment, I was envious of their friendship and loyalty to each other.

Although Gwacheon had worked with them before, he often carried out small heists on his own. Much like myself, he preferred not to have a partner but made me realize that sometimes they could be useful, especially when it came to bigger jobs.

He was a lone wolf when he had to be. He told me to remember that. And I did.

I did not see the appeal. In fact, humans tend to be unreliable and oftentimes selfish. I could not trust it, anyone for that matter. It was one of the first things I learned from my father. His partner had sold him out, so he could reduce the sentence the authorities were threatening him with. Since then, I did not seek the help of others.

It was always me, myself, and I. However, the Professor managed to find a group of people whose company I actually enjoyed. Despite being thieves and some of them murderers, they were a group of men I had grown to like and trust.

Gwangju sat opposite me as I struggled with the L85. He clinked his soju bottle with mine and I grinned before giving up, “Look me in the eye as you take the first sip,” I ordered.

“Cheers,” he said and grinned, “Does that mean something where you’re from?”

“Means you’ll have bad sex if you don’t.”

“Well in that case,” he clinked his bottle with mine once more, “We don’t want that.”

He shot me a big and pearly smile before he began to assemble the gun. I studied his prominent features for a moment, admiring his natural beauty and olive skin before directing my gaze down at the heavy firearm as he explained which parts went where.

Fully focused on his words and his handle of the gun, I felt Busan’s presence behind me. He climbed between Daegu and me, “What’s up?” I asked when I caught his eyes.

“After dinner, we should get lit and go to the festival,” his suggestive demeanor forced a smile from me. Out of the six men, he was the one who actively sought my attention, persistent fucker.

He was interested in me, I could sense it. And although it would have been easy to spread my legs for him or any of the others, I was only interested in collecting my end of the robbery. Completing the heist unscathed was my sole concern and these little horny thieves were not going to stray me from my goal.

“Low profile,” Gwangju spat as my eyes were on Busan’s, “We can’t be seen together. Rule number seven.”

“Screw the Professor and his rules,” he responded without taking his eyes off mine. Busan studied my features as my gaze shifted from his plump lips to his dark eyes, “Besides, we deserve a little fun,” he directed his attention to Gwangju, “What the Professor doesn’t know won’t kill him.”

“He did say we were on a break until he got back.”

“Do not encourage him, London,” Gwangju warned after finishing the assembly of the gun.

“A little fun didn’t hurt anyone,” Busan voiced as his fingertips caressed my bare shoulder.

“Careful there, brother,” GC sat beside Gwangju with soju in hand, “You do not want her claws piercing your ballsack.”

“London wouldn’t be that mean to me,” Busan’s eyes wandered between mine and then my lips as he leaned closer, “Would you?”

I felt the hot air from his parted lip brush against mine and I could not help but meet him halfway. With a cocky smirk, I reached down for his clothed manhood, digging my sharp nails in the jean fabric he wore as a sudden groan escaped him, “Don’t get too comfortable, kiddo,” I whispered against his mouth as he hissed and cursed under his breath.

“Told you,” GC grinned, and soon after the rest began to laugh at Busan’s failed attempt.

➰

Busan convinced GC and Seoul to join him at the spring festival. Every year on the day of the parting sea, locals would celebrate the event by throwing a massive street party. The island was known for its festivities and attracted a lot of tourists. I could not visit South Korea and not experience what Jindo had to offer. So, I went, and as reluctant as Gwangju was, he joined us as well until Gwacheon decided to make it a family affair and convinced Daegu to join the outing too.

South Korea had always been a country I wanted to visit. It was known for its rich culture, delicious food, and its kind people. So far, I enjoyed everything I had experienced.

Despite the intention of the visit, I was grateful to be here and be amongst native men who could guide me and translate if needed. Sadly, one of the Professor’s rules was to blend as much as we could and not draw any attention to ourselves. Knowing him and the stick up his butt, he would not have been too pleased to know that we were lounging with the locals, getting drunk until late, and essentially making a mockery of his rule system.

Close to midnight, Daegu wanted to head back to the beach house and he did along with me and Seoul who had to prepare to monitor the bank in the morning. He was close to hacking into the internal security system, the one that allowed us to view everything on the inside.

Freshly out of the shower, the house was painfully quiet with most of the others still enjoying the festivities. I danced around with a pair of headsets blasting music in my ears, enjoying the alcohol that roamed in my system as I shimmied into my undergarments. ‘All That’ by Emotional Oranges came on and I sang along as I smeared lotion on my body. Soon the music captivated every inch of my body and I began to dance when suddenly I caught a glimpse of a man watching me by the door.

A loud gasp came out of me, but as startled as I was, my body knowingly eased, assessing the situation as I stared down the stranger without showcasing any fear. I had not seen him before and I wondered how he had gotten inside of the beach house.

Seoul had explicitly explained that the place was safely secured.

The man leaned against the doorframe as a small sigh evaded his plump lips while he unapologetically allowed his gaze to travel down my body, “The Professor didn’t say anything about a woman being on the team.”

“The Professor?”

He eyed me momentarily, “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’m Ilsan. What’s your assigned city?”

“London.” I nodded as the realization came over me. He was what the Professor was searching for. He was the mission he had mentioned; the team’s leader and the one to instill the fear of God in us.

Just then did it occur to me that Ilsan had to be someone the Professor trusted completely. He was almost obsessively calculated with everything about the heist. For our safety and his own. Everything had to be planned. And he was right. We were hot-headed, argued, and disagreed many times. Everyone had their own styles but for the heist to be successful, it required that we all moved as a team. The Professor knew this, knew once we were inside, he was limited in terms of guidance. Although communication would be out of the question, he needed someone on the inside that would make sure the proper steps would be taken.

I eyed Ilsan and sensed why the Professor had chosen him. He had an authoritative aura. I was sure he was the kind of man who inserted his dominance well. The Professor was a beta but based on first impressions, Ilsan struck me as someone who did not mind and preferred - despite the pressure and responsibility - to be the top alpha of the team.

“London,” he sang, “That's a pretty name. I have been there. Wet country.” I attempted to hold back the appearing smile that the comment accurately described about my home city, “Did you choose it or did the Profess--”

“You got your sneak peek,” I hastily voiced, not interested in his small talk and especially with lack of clothes on, “Fuck off. I’m getting ready for bed.”

He chuckled into a low hum as he crossed his arms, resting his head against the doorframe, “You usually have a party before bed?” I caught a glance of his smirk and the dimples that came along with it. He was a flirt, much like Busan, and I was not having it. Ilsan did not know that I was someone not to be messed with. But he would soon. I walked over to the door and shoved him backward by his chest before slamming the door in his face.

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xenteaart · 4 years

Text

Shall We? (Part 2)

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x fem!Reader

Request: Can I request part two for Shall We? Pleeeeaase 🙏!! You can’t just leave it like that.

Word count: 1,7k

Warnings: kind of a fight scene?? and like one swear word idk

Note: Sooo here’s part two of this fic, give it a read if you havent coz otherwise this one is not going to make much sense haha

For the sake of the story, Five disappeared when he was 18 (instead of 13) and got stuck in his 18 year-old-body after coming back accordingly. Also I’ve decided to give the reader and the Handler kind of a Lila x the Handler dynamic

The events are taking place in s1, some details of the canon are obvsly altered.

ALSO THERE’S A LIL EASTER EGG AT THE END MWEHEHE

Hope you enjoy!

Taglist: @stitched-mouth @startrekkingaroundasgard

“You do know you can’t win. I really don’t wanna hurt you, Y/N,” he uttered, raising his hands a little as a way to warn you not to come any closer for your own good.

Even though it was supposed to be a sweet gesture of concern, hearing him confirm that he still thought you were no match for him cut you to your very core.

“Oh, yeah? Well, I’m afraid you might have to. Shall we?” you sneered and threw your leg into the air, hitting Five right under his kneecap and making him collapse on the ground with a surprised gasp.

Five truly had zero intention of hurting you, but your determination to have a fight left him no choice, and even his clear advantage of having loads more experience and superpowers on top did not seem to make you hesitate.

“Come on, don’t be stupid, Y/N,” Five commented as he got back on his feet and took a few steps away from you, still giving you a chance to back off before he had to inflict any pain on your person, but all it achieved was winding you up even more.

The problem was - you two underwent identical training at the Commission as the Handler gave both of you her very best mentor, and right now you were basically mirroring each other’s moves, except Five was also using his spatial jumps to disorient you. He was still going easy on you, mostly just blocking your punches and jumping further away so you had to chase him all over the Academy while he was hoping you would simply exhaust yourself before any real damage would be done. Quite frankly, it was a smart decision on his part and a rather thoughtful one as well because, despite all appearances, he actually cared about you an awful lot.

As the both of you gracefully danced all the way to the second floor, you were already out of breath from the endless running around which meant Five’s plan was beginning to work. However, you realized what he was doing soon enough to indulge him into the feeling of being right and played his little game for a while, waiting for the perfect moment when he’d get distracted, and as the moment came you had to act fast.

You threw yourself forwards and promptly wrapped your arms around Five’s waist, knocking him off his feet and pressing your body against his as you pinned him to the floor. He groaned with annoyance and winced at the pain as his back hit the hard wooden surface. The next few seconds sort of happened in slow-mo for both of you as he roughly pushed you off himself and somehow managed to switch places with you, now looming over your body and warningly putting his knee on your solar plexus, threatening to crush your ribcage if you moved.

A mutual silence fell between you as you were processing the last 30 minutes of your lives, both visibly struggling to believe that each of you somehow ended up fighting the person they would never wish to hurt in their entire life. The sounds of your heavy breathing were filling the room as you were merely staring at each other in utter confusion. The weight of Five’s knee on your diaphragm was beginning to give you trouble breathing, and your breaths became shallow and hoarse which finally snapped him out of his trance.

“Gonna tell me what the hell is up now, Y/N?” he asked in his teacher-y manner that you used to absolutely hate and adore all at once, especially when he used to give you lectures on your occasional fuck-ups - whether it was failing a class because you were too lazy to turn in your assigments in time or something a little more serious, like getting into an argument with the Monocle and consequently making life harder for both of you.

You would always roll your eyes and smirk when he would get into his i-am-disappointed-in-you-but-i-still-love-you character and cross his arms on his chest for dramatic effect.

“You were the one telling me to piss off in the first place, remember,” you narrowed your eyes as you were subtly gasping for air underneath Five’s weight. He pursed his lips and looked away, contemplating whether or not to be completely honest. Evidently, his lack of sincerity got him nowhere the last time around, so he sighed loudly; his shoulders dropping and his expression finally revealing all of the exhaustion and regret that he was concealing quite successfully up until now.

“I only pushed you away to protect you.”

“Sounds like bullshit to me,” you replied, clearly unimpressed and palpably suspicious; two years of being brainwashed by the Handler now taking their toll on your perspective.

“God, don’t be so slow,” Five uttered clearly irritated but then quickly realized his offensive implication and added, “Said with respect.”

You stayed silent, raising your brow as a way of telling him to continue.

“I couldn’t risk you becoming a casualty because being involved in my family’s mess as a non-super is dangerous. As in, you’re going to be a target all the time, and I couldn’t and still can’t afford to waste my time worrying about your safety. As much as I’d love to - it’s simply not the luxury I have. I’ve got to stop the end of the world, otherwise everyone is going to be dead in four days, don’t you get it?” Five asked, a waterfall of emotions pushing at the inner sides of his chest, waiting to be set loose and consume everything on its way.

You were quietly listening to his explanation and taking it all in whilst still trying to fight off the suspicion and disbelief that were nagging at your every cell.

“I wanted to keep you safe because I couldn’t bear to lose you again,” his voice trembled a little as the memories of his post-apocalypse life washed over his mind, “The last 45 years have been a fucking nightmare.”

“I’d find it way more believable if you stopped crushing my ribs for starters,” you muttered through clenched teeth and immediately felt the pressure taken off your chest, precious and very much needed oxygen starting to flow through your system the way it should again.

Five got up and offered his hand to help you on your feet as a gesture to show you that he didn’t see you as an enemy and placed trust in you. You took his hand and steadied yourself awkwardly, still slightly disoriented and light-headed.

“I don’t know what the Handler told you but I do know she’s exceptional at manipulating,” Five added as he looked you right in the eye, “Christ, and you’re so naive, always have been. Most days it’s truly adorable but sometimes, Y/N, it really doesn’t work in your favor,” as the words escaped his lips, his gaze became noticeably softer; his expression blossoming with tenderness towards you.

“Prove it. Prove that you care.”

Five chuckled and shook his head, simultaneously annoyed and amused at your stubbornness. The atmosphere between you was shifting and you couldn’t help but notice the familiar overwhelming feeling of comfort and peace enveloping your person from head to toe. You’ve forgotten what it felt like being around Five, and now you were finally getting to remember. At home.

He slipped his hand into the pocket of his uniform shorts and pulled out a grape-sized plastic figure of a golden retriever.

“You gave me this a few days before I jumped and got stuck in the future. I carried it with me all the way. This silly trinket was the only thing I had left of you, the only thing that reminded me you were still out there waiting for me. Kept me going,” he shrugged casually as if it wasn’t important at all which it absolutely was.

“Five, c’mere! Look what I found!” you called for him as you were sitting on the floor surrounded by all sorts of useless crap. You were in the middle of decluttering your bedroom when a little figure of a dog caught your eye, it was the breed that Five was especially fond of and you knew he secretly dreamed of getting a puppy of his own as soon as he was out of the house.

“What’s that?” he asked, unimpressed.

“It’s a doggie! He wants to be your friend,” you replied, playing with your accent a little, rolling you “r”s and shifting the flow of your words to sound more Scottish or ... Russian. God knows where you were going with it but you tended to butcher your accent for fun quite a lot.

“Y/N, are you twelve?”

“His name is Mr.Pennycrumb and he’s gonna look after you whenever I’m not around,” you said with utmost confidence and gave him a wide smile, putting the trinket into Five’s pocket, clearly very proud of yourself and still committed to your silly accent performance, “Treat him well.”

Five scoffed and shrugged.

“Whatever.”

“So did he?” you asked, staring at the goddamn toy as tears were slowly welling up in your eyes.

“What?”

“Did he do a good job looking after you while I wasn’t around?” your gaze finally met Five’s as the realization in his own eyes was starting to sink in. A pained smile touched the corners of his mouth, and you could see Five genuinely struggle to maintain his tough facade.

“Yeah. He did.”

Without saying a word, you stepped closer and rested your cheek on his shoulder, wrapping your arms around him, this time with no hostility or murderous intention. If you had to be perfectly honest with yourself, you’d admit you could never find it in you to actually hurt Five, let alone killing him. Both of you knew that way too well.

He returned the hug and pulled you closer, burying his nose in your hair and then planting a quick innocent kiss on the top of your head. Feeling the warmth radiating from you was enough to make him relax further into your embrace, his eyes now closed shut and his breathing steady and deep.

It didn’t last for as long as you’d like, though, a big loud bang from downstairs making you both flinch and pull away from each other, breaking your fragile bubble of comfort and calm in an instant.

“Shit, Hazel and Cha-Cha,” Five whispered, concern and worry crawling back onto his features. He briefly looked at you, and you simply nodded, non-verbally confirming that you were willing to help and were no longer part of the Handler’s plan.

The two of you were going to talk all about that later. His years alone, his and your own involvement with the Commission, the end of the world and loads more.

Of course, right in this moment neither of you could possibly know that your friendship was, in fact, a gateway into a lifelong partnership but you were bound to find out eventually. And the journey you two were about to begin as soon as the apocalypse was dealt with and gone was going to be magnificent.

#five hargreeves x reader #tua #The Umbrella Academy #Umbrella Academy #umbrella academy fanfic #five hargreeves #number five #my fic #my writing #five hargreeves x you #number five x you #five x reader #number five x reader

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heliads · 4 years

Text

Chapter 3: Infiltration

Bucky Barnes is constantly haunted by his past, but the memories of his days as a Winter Soldier will come into a new light in the form of the Watching Hawk, his old HYDRA partner. Will he be able to trust her, and will she be able to move on from his mistakes?

previous / series masterlist / next

They’re leaning over the table together, studying the files on the HYDRA base. Bucky still can’t believe that Y/N agreed to work with them- by doing so, she’d be turning her back on HYDRA forever. He knows how it feels to accept HYDRA as your enemy, and so his respect for Y/N grows even more.

Speaking of which, Y/N is a great asset in terms of planning the infiltration of HYDRA. She’s telling the group key details about the HYDRA complex that not even S.H.I.E.L.D.’s files have in store. Bucky was, admittedly, more than a little hesitant to trust Y/N at first, but she’s now proved herself a trustworthy ally.

Once the planning session is done, Bucky makes his way to the training center. The infiltration of the HYDRA base won’t take place for another week, so he wants to distract himself by exercising. The sound of his fists hitting the punching bag is music to his ears, and Bucky finds himself so caught up in the repetition of the drill that he doesn’t hear the door opening.

“Quite the practice you’ve got going on. Are you trying to kill the punching bag or just dismember it?” Y/N’s voice cuts across the training room, and Bucky stops his restless blows to dry the sweat from his brow and turn to look at her. She’s leaning on a railing by the door, smiling teasingly down at him. She’s also dressed in workout gear, and starts to make her way towards him. “Just trying to practice.” Bucky mutters, grabbing a drink of water.

“What do you say we practice together? One-on-one, just like the old days. I won’t use my wings, you won’t use your knives. Just two soldiers fighting like usual.” Bucky can’t help the reluctant smile creeping across his face. “Let’s go.”

Y/N steps onto the mat across from him, and the two fighters circle each other warily. Bucky is brought back to years long gone, when they were training in the HYDRA facilities. This time, there are no armed guards or cunning operatives to watch them, but Bucky still feels the tension creeping up his spine. He attacks first- he always did- with a punch to her jaw. Y/N dodges it easily- she always did- and retaliates with two jabs to his abdomen in quick succession. Bucky simply kicks her legs out from under her, pinning her to the ground. He doesn’t realize the fist of his metal arm is in the air again, ready to strike, until he sees the worry in her eyes. Bucky blinks, taking in the situation. She’s already pinned. No need to hit again.

Bucky quickly gets off of the ground, releasing Y/N and taking a few steps back. He struggles to clear his head, but all Bucky can see is the same training ground.

‘Hit her again.’ Bucky looks up at the uniformed operative, but says nothing. Soldiers say nothing unless asked. The Hawk is on the ground, clawing at the metal arm pinning her by her throat. ‘Hit her again. You should only stop if she’s unconscious.’ At the sound of the operative’s command, the Hawk flings her legs up and over Bucky’s head, pushing him back. She manages to release his grip, but Bucky just pins her again. The Hawk has only been with HYDRA for a short while. She needs to learn. The operative repeats his command again and again. When the operative stops speaking, Bucky stares at the blood coating his hand. The Hawk is motionless on the ground. Bucky is dragged back to his cell.

“Barnes. Barnes!” He can hear a voice from somewhere in the distance. It feels like Bucky’s drowning, too far under to swim and only sinking further from the voice. As the sound of the voice grows louder, Bucky does his best to claw his way to the surface. There’s the sensation of a hand on his arm, pulling him up from the depths of his tortured mind.

“Barnes!” There’s a face in front of him. The Hawk’s- no, Y/N’s. Her hand is on his shoulder, and she’s planted herself in front of him. There’s worry in her eyes, worry he hasn’t seen in a long time. Since before he left her side. “Can you hear me?”

Bucky nods slowly. “What-what happened?” Y/N shakes her head confusedly. “I don’t know. We were fighting, and then you got this emotionless look in your eyes, like you were still the Winter Soldier. It was like you were still under their control.” Bucky sighs, running a hand desperately through his hair to clear his ragged thoughts. “It was when we were fighting. I had a memory of when we first started to train. It was like I was there, and I was forced to keep fighting you even though you were pinned. For a while, I thought I was still there.”

Y/N’s eyes clear, and she tilts her head back. “The fight triggered the memory. Come, sit down.” She leads him to a bench, gentle in her movements lest she bring him back to the fighting ground at HYDRA. Her arm around him feels like the only solid thing in the world. “I’m not surprised it happened. You’re not undergoing the constant memory wipes, so your memories will start returning. The issue is, most of them will be dark and torturous, and you will have to bear them once more.” Bucky slowly lifts his head to face her. “Why are you doing this? Why are you helping me?” Y/N drops her eyes away for just a second, as if asking herself the same questions, but looks back to him once more.

“We are both survivors. When we were still at HYDRA, you helped me live with what I’d done. That’s one consequence of keeping your memories- every second of the day I am left to face the blood on my hands. There were some days I thought I would drown in it, but you helped pull me out. When you left, the HYDRA higher-ups knew I would try to follow you, so they did everything in their power to stop me from returning to your side. I wasn’t- I’m still not sure how to apologize, but this is the only way I know. Kindness begets kindness, and I have no way to repay you for all the times you taught me to heal.”

Bucky nods slowly. “I still can’t remember everything from that time. Some days, I’m glad of it, but most days I just wish I had more memories. There are gaping holes in my mind, and I have nothing with which to fill them.”

Y/N lets his words sink in. Suddenly, she turns to him, as if she’s been fighting back a question but can’t help asking it. “How did it feel to have the mind control lifted from your head? To know you were your own person once again?” Bucky can’t help a small, slightly sad laugh. “I didn’t quite know what to make of it. I thought I’d feel free, like I finally had control over my own life, but it just felt more empty. Maybe it was my own mind once more, but it had been someone else’s for so long that I didn’t know what I should feel like once it wasn’t.”

Y/N nods at that. Quietly, she leans her head on his shoulder. Bucky is flung back into memories once more, but they come slowly and they are finally pleasant. After the two of them returned from missions, they would often stay like this. The reassurance of another’s heartbeat was always enough to stave off whatever demons lurked in the corners of their minds.

Before Bucky knows it, it’s time to break into the HYDRA base. He’s been tense all morning, but surprisingly, his nerves clear once the building comes in sight. He supposes it’s an old habit, that being afraid was simply a habit broken when he was with HYDRA, but he’s glad of it now. Bucky allows himself to fall into the motions, distancing himself emotionally from the upcoming attack.

The five of them will split up to enter the building. Natasha, Sam, and Steve will enter from a side door. Bucky and Y/N will take an entrance on the other side of the building. There are guards stationed outside, of course, but they are taken down easily by the two Winter Soldiers. Bucky finds odd comfort in fighting alongside Y/N- they move seamlessly together as if they had forever been by each other’s side.

Once inside the building, Y/N rushes over to a control panel, shutting down alarm systems and security cameras. Natasha, Sam, and Steve radio in to confirm their entry, so Y/N and Bucky quickly move on to the center of the building. Most of the files will be in the central communications area, so that becomes their target destination. Although Bucky and Y/N have to take out the occasional guard, they are grateful that most of the HYDRA occupants are out at a conference. Finally, Bucky and Y/N are only a few halls away from the destination of the communications center, but that’s where their luck runs out.

Once they round a corner, Bucky quickly motions for Y/N to get back. The halls are filled with guards, who are stationed in tight formations. Bucky looks over at Y/N, suddenly feeling the pressure of the mission. “There are two many guards. I don’t know if we can get past them.” Oddly enough, Y/N doesn’t look worried. In fact, she looks almost regretful. “What is it?” Bucky asks, but Y/N just shakes her head sadly. “He’s here.” She says to her earpiece, and Bucky can hear the sound of many footsteps converging on their location.

Bucky stares at Y/N in betrayal. “What are you doing?” He hisses, and pain fills her eyes. “I’ve always had the illusion of free will. There will always be HYDRA protocols burned into my mind that I cannot break.” The guards finally reach the former allies, too many for Bucky to fight. As he is forced to his knees, restraints tied tightly around his wrists and arms, Y/N speaks one last time, almost too quietly for him to hear. “I wish I could make different choices. I wish it more than anything. But I will always be HYDRA’s puppet.” She walks away briskly towards another operative, leaving Bucky stunned and in the company of dozens of guards.

The HYDRA soldiers eventually lead Bucky to a cell deep within the complex. He is tethered to a chair, arms and legs restrained with heavy-duty bonds. He doesn’t think he could break them even if he tried. A while after that, Bucky is informed that Natasha, Sam, and Steve have also been captured. After the operatives leave, Bucky is alone with the realization of Y/N’s betrayal. Had she meant anything she had said to him? Bucky remembers the look in Y/N’s eyes when the soldiers arrived, as if she truly hated herself for what she’d done. I will always be HYDRA’s puppet. Bucky doesn’t know whether Y/N truly regretted betraying him or not, just that the pain of her turning against him feels as if it’s almost too much to bear.

tag list: @soleil-dor

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagines #winter soldier #winter soldier imagine #winter soldier x reader #winter soldier imagines #avengers #avengers imagines #bucky #bucky x reader #bucky series

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thesquidkid · 3 years

Text

To protect

Read on AO3

(Tw: mentions of police brutality and racism)

It was on a late Tuesday evening, after spending most of the afternoon sitting at a table at the back of the Wild Pony, away from all conversations, that Max Evans found himself at a crossroad, not knowing which road to choose.

He had been at that crossroad for a while now, longer than he would like to admit it, but had only recently started to consider the other path, the one that diverged from the one he was currently on.

He played with his untouched glass of whiskey, replaying the events of the day, the events that lead him to this precise moment, considering his life choices. He thought about his conversation with Deputy Pete, about the duty of the police force, about how they were to enforce law and order. He thought about the reason he enlisted in the first place. To protect. To protect Michael and Isobel. To protect the people of Roswell. The people who didn’t trust him anymore, the people who felt like Max Evans had turned his back on them.

He sighed loudly and dropped his head on the table. He had come in the bar to get a drink of two then head home without any trouble, but instead was met with stares and glares, disapproving looks, looks of fear. How ironic, he thought, to spend his whole life wanting to fit in, wanting to be a part of something, to not be feared, to not have anger directed towards him, and to become the opposite of it. He was feared, he caused anger, he represented a hateful group and there was nothing he could do about it. He had tried to change the system from inside, had tried to be “the good cop”. But it wasn’t enough. The force still discriminated against the black community of Roswell, the immigrants, the outsiders.

Max wanted to be there for them, wanted to protect them. But he had to face the facts, wearing that uniform didn’t make people feel safe. And he understood. Knew what it felt like to be afraid of being taken away by men in uniforms. Had nightmares about it even. Deep down, he knew what he had to do, what the obvious decision should be. Give up the badge . The voice in his head kept telling him, but he kept insisting, I need to protect .

He considered talking to Isobel and Michael about it, but decided against it, knowing what they would say. They had never been big fans of him joining the force, especially Michael. And Max couldn’t blame him. Even the others, he knew what they thought. Liz, the daughter of a recently documented immigrant who had sacrificed so much for his girls. Kyle, the son of the people who had protected this town in a way that Max failed to reproduce. Alex, the son of a bigot, who had faced hatred in ways Max could never grasp, who understood the consequences of an imbalance of power. Maria, the only black woman in their group, who spent too much of her life pretending not to pay attention to the racists, who had received comments since high school, comments that Max could never relate to. And Rosa, who had always been clear about how she felt towards the sheriff department.

In that moment, Max needed more than anything the presence of Cam, who would put him in his place and help him make the right choice, for him and the people of Roswell. But Cam was away with her sister, and this was a decision he needed to make alone. One that he needed to be responsible for.

He was taken out of his thoughts by a bottle being placed on the table and a chair being dragged across the floor. Max raised his head slowly, about to tell whoever had arrived that he wanted to be left alone, when he froze, mouth agape, at the sight of the man in front of him.

“Howdy, or whatever it is you people say,” said Forrest Long, sitting down on the chair and passing a hand through his blue hair, “mind if I sit?”

Max shook his head and sat up straight against the back of the chair. He looked at Forrest with frowned eyebrows, not really knowing what the other man was doing here. Forrest smiled at him and took a sip of his beer. He then turned to Max, leaning his elbows on the table between them. “So,” he started, “Alex told me quite a bit about what’s been happening since I left. Without acknowledging my cousin’s weird, 'alien' behaviour, it will be for another day, you’ve had quite a field trip with the regiment huh?” He emphasized the word ‘alien’, like he knew something, but he couldn’t could he? His eyes never left Max’s and it took him a moment to register what the historian had just said.

He must’ve been too long to react, since Forrest spoke up again, “Yes, me and Alex are friends. Yes I know about you and alien guy being… well… y’kown. And no, I’m not here to trash talk your brother or whatever.”

Max was about to say something about “alien guy”, but advised not too, not wanting to know exactly what Forrest knew. “Then why are you here?” he asked instead, crossing his arms against his chest in a defensive manner. “Relax,” chuckled Forrest, raising his hands in surrender, a wide grin on his face, “I heard about what happened today, perks of being related to members of the regiment I guess.” He raised his shoulders, seemingly having accepted that he couldn’t change who he was related to, and deciding to at least use it to his advantage. At Max’s nod he continued, “Look, you were right to tell Taylor off, and you were right to tell Pete to go to hell. And I think you were also right to slam the door when you left, but that’s just me liking the dramatic exit.” Max chuckled slightly at the end, more to Forrest’s wink than what he actually said.

Whas he right to do that? He might not have many friends in the force anymore. Not that he had many to start with in the first place.

He was back into his thoughts, thinking about the right thing to do and what the consequences would be, when Forrest cleared his throat loudly enough for Max to focus on their conversation again, but quiet enough not to bring attention to their table.

“Can I ask you a question?” he asked once he had Max’s attention again. “What was your dream job as a kid?” he said, not waiting for an answer.

Max thought about that. Thought about what he wanted to do with his life when he was a teenager. Before a part of him, Michael and Isobel broke forever. He wanted to travel to Europe. Wanted to see the wonders of the world. Had dreams about writing books. And now, he was doing neither of those things, couldn’t even finish his damn book.

Looking back at Forrest, he saw something in his eyes, something that could be understanding. After all, Forrest too had joined a career path of violence. But he had gotten out of it. And was now doing what he wanted to, at least according to Isobel who got it from Kyle who got it from Alex. “I wanted to be a writer.” The answer felt so simple as it came out of his mouth. Looking back at the crossroad, he could see the path straight ahead of him becoming more and more blurry and the other one coming into view. It was still unclear, still full of uncertainties, but it was already brighter than the one leading to the police force.

“You know,” Forrest started with a comforting smile, “when I decided to start writing my book and focus on history, it was fucking scary. But never once have I regretted it. Can you say the same about you joining the sheriff department?” It was a rhetorical question, Max didn’t even bother answering. Instead he played all the different scenarios in his head. He was starting to walk on the road leading to books, but he wasn’t quite there yet.

“I just- I wanna write, y’know?” he started to say, his head low, looking at his hat, seeing Forrest nod with a smile out of the corner of his eye. “But-”

“You don’t have to start there.” Finished Forrest, with a knowing smile. At Max’s confused glance, he continued, “Alex told me you like to read, right?” Max groaned but nodded, as true as Alex was, he wasn’t particularly a fan of a Long knowing he was still a nerd. Forrest smiled but didn’t seem phased, “So, why don’t you work with books?” he asked, innocently.

“You mean like a librarian?” Max laughed, not seeing himself in that job. “Why not?” challenged Forrest, “Why did you join the police in the first place?”

“To protect others,” he answered confidently.

“Librarians create a safe place,” the historian answered with a nostalgic smile. Seeing Max frown in confusion, he continued, “I actually met alien guy at the library y’know? Although that’s a different story, it did lead me to you lot.” He chuckled, seeing that Maw was still very confused at what he was talking about. “As a kid, I’d come to Roswell every holiday. And when I was old enough to realise I was very different to Wyatt, I started going to the library nearly everyday. And since then, every fight, every break up, every flashback, every bad day, has led me back. Whether it was Roswell’s library, or the few books on base when I was deployed, libraries have been my safe place. And I know they are for many other people.” He took a breath, letting his words sink in, before finishing, “You want to protect? You don’t need a gun for that. Good book recommendations, a smile and a comforting presence will do that.”

And with that, he finished his beer and stood up with a wink, leaving Max alone with his thoughts again. “A librarian,” he whispered with a smile. He then drank his glass, put his hat back on, and made his way to his jeep, heading towards the sheriff station, where he knew he would find Sheriff Taylor.

She was indeed there, surprised to see him. Without a word, Max walked to her desk, put his badge and gun on the table and left, slamming the door. Let the entire town of Roswell that Max Evans was going to welcome all people to the library, with open arms, a warm drink, a good book, and a smile. To protect.

#petition to make max a librarian #hed be great reading books to kids #has a soft voice and everything #and he and forrest could complain about the struggles of writing books #dont mind me #im just posting all my stuff in two places so i can find them more easily in the future #max evans #forrest long #rnm fic #thesquidkid writes

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padawan-jiejie · 4 years

Text

My Choice [3 / 3]

Summary: You are Anakin’s twin sister and Mace Windu’s apprentice with forbidden kind of interest in Master Kenobi. You’re there to witness your brother’s turn to the Dark side and have trouble dealing with the consequences. Five years later, you visit Obi-Wan on Tatooine…

PART 1 | PART 2

Word Count: 5.8k

Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x reader

Warnings: !MyEnglish!, ptsd talk, talk about regrets, angsty!reader, but also comforting!Obi and fluffy!Obi and baby!Luke + one more character has a cameo and overly fluffy ending the reader is a bit of a crybaby in this one, sorry

A/N: THIS TOOK ME SO LONG - I SINCERELY APOLOGIZE!!! Also I haven’t read the comic about Obi-Wan and his time on Tatooine so… I just hope all of you are doing the best you can and enjoy 💖💖💖

Tagged: @retrobhaddie @multi-madison @treestarrrrrrrr @fandoms-pizza-wifi-ym13 @lysawayne

Five long years since the tragedy of the Jedi. Since their failure and the purge. After all those years, here you were. Flying in your stolen ship, fleeing away from your inevitable destiny. You ran out of supplies and had to take a break, stop somewhere safe. You had a planet in mind, it was close and you were certain no one from the Empire would be looking for you there if you don’t stay for long. It was the hole of the universe after all. But somethin- no, someone was calling for you to land there. So you set the coordinations to Tatooine. You used your connection to the Force to find the perfect place to hide your ship nearest the pull you sensed. You shut down all systems and took a deep breath. For the first time in years, you would step into the harsh, dry and sandy grounds of the planet you were born on. It wasn’t your home for a long time and you felt bitter and nostalgic looking outside. Yet as you were sitting there in the cockpit, you saw a familiar cloak walking towards your position from behind a mountain. At that moment, all your worries and doubts faded like a mist.

You ran out as fast as you could and stayed staring at the figure few feet away from you. Your heart was beating quickly from the excitement and when he pulled his hood off and looked directly into your eyes, it definitely felt like coming back home.

“Y/N?”

“Obi-Wan…”

Your voices were nothing but a whisper. A whisper that told a million words and more. Obi-Wan Kenobi was standing there in front of you and it was like yesterday when you said your last goodbyes. And he was stunned. He came to the conclusion that it was very likely he would never see you again in his lifetime after Order 66. He never quite made his peace with that and couldn’t believe in what was happening. He thought he was hallucinating. There you were, in all your beauty and grace. Your y/h/c hair was messy, y/e/c eyes red from fatigue and your brown robes dusty. Even like that you still managed to look as elegant as always.

Kenobi took a hesitant step towards you, fearing that you might disappear any second. You didn’t. He took another step closer and you jumped into his arms.

“I’ve missed so much, Obi-Wan!” You blurted out as tears of joy started streaming down your face. You held onto him tightly and sobbed and cried your heart out. As he came to reality, he too embraced you and buried his face in your neck. It wasn’t just a dream. You were indeed here. In his arms. Right where you belong.

“Y/N… I am so happy you’re actually here. You can’t imagine how bad it was being alone like this!” He lifted you up and spun around before putting you back on your feet.

You dried your tears, while he was holding you close to him by your waist. “Master Jedi, I… You… Just… Me…” You spent hours thinking about all the things you wanted to talk about with him but now as you finally had the chance to express yourself, your own mouth was failing you. You could not even make up one proper sentence.

“I-I’m… Umm… It’s been so long.”

“I know, I was afraid I would never see you again. I’m so glad that will not be the case.” He said with a blissful expression. You smiled at him and he kissed your forehead, sending a warm feeling to rush through your body.

“Obi… I could sense you. With the Force, I sensed you. I think.”

“I sensed you too. That’s why I came. I thought I was losing my mind. What would you be doing here, right? But now I see that my senses have not abandoned me yet.”

“No, they are still pretty decent.”

“Oh, decent you say? Well, what are you doing here anyway? I guess you’re not just stopping by to say hello to an old friend.”

“Actually, I ran out of supplies so I need to get some food and stuff. And I think I need to check this beauty for any damage.”

Obi-Wan frowned and touched his beard. “That is not the ship Bail Organa had given you. What happened to it and how did you get this one? It looks ancient.”

“Yeah, you really don’t wanna know how I got that. Maybe I’ll tell you later but it’s a long story that I don’t wanna get into right now.”

“If you think that would be for the best, I’ll leave it be. But come on. We’ll go to my little house and I’ll get you something to eat.”

“That would be so nice! I am starving! Um, but I shouldn’t leave her here unguarded.”

“Don’t worry about it. Nothing will happen to it. Trust me. And if anything does happen, I have my methods of getting it back.”

“Alright then. But um, I actually call her Soka. Because of the blue and white stripe there on the side.” Obi-Wan paused for a second, then smiled. With one of his arms around your shoulders, you two walked over to the house that he was apparently now living in. The place looked poor and you couldn’t help but think about the Jedi quarters you spent half your life in.

“That’s a whole another level, Kenobi. Even for you.”

“There wasn’t really much to be picking from.”

“Sorry.”

“That’s okay. I’ll get you some soup.”

You sat down near a tiny window and pulled your legs to your chest. The heat reminded you of your childhood. How you used to help your mom with cleaning, cooking and then would go to play with Anakin and the other local children. Looking back at it now, you could tell that as much as it sucked, those were good times. Just you, your mamma and your big brother Ani. You signed at the thought, pictures from the past running through your head. Padmé, the handmaidens, Qui-Gon and young Obi-Wan with his cute padawan braid. He certainly did not enjoy it when you hopped next to him and started playing with it, asking him questions why is he letting grow only so small piece of his hair. A sad smiled appeared on your lips as you remembered the moment you met. He didn’t really believe in neither you or Ani and none of you could see how important you would become for each other. What a wonderful team you would make in the future. It wasn’t fair that it all fell apart out of nowhere.

“Here you go,” Obi-Wan said, holding out a bowl of soup, waking you up from your trance.

“Thank you.”

After you finished your meal and your stomach felt better and you and Obi-Wan were sitting next to each other, both trying to get a grasp of this situation. You haven’t seen each other in 5 years and it didn’t look like you accomplished much. Quite the opposite. Former Jedi Master looked dragged from his current life, you could see the wrinkles forming on his face. He looked a lot older now. For you, it was your eyes. Obi-Wan remembered how they would always light up whenever you had some crazy idea or simply when you were happy and oh, how he loved your smile! Your eyes had a sparkle in them whenever you smiled or laughed. Now? Your eyes felt cold, tired and filled with sorrow. As if you’ve grown tougher during the time of your separation. He pointed that out.

“That’s because I had to grow up. Suddenly I had no one to look after me and as you know my entire life I had someone by my side. Whether that be my mom, my brother or my master or… Padmé or you. Life had been hard on me, Obi. That’s just how it is. In my core, I feel the same but on the outside, I lost a lot of my faith. But don’t play it on me. You’re damaged too.”

“I am not denying that.”

“Speaking of which, how do you like living on Tatooine?”

He laughed. “Like isn’t the word I would use. More like tolerate. But as you can see, I manage. Nobody’s visiting but sometimes I go to check up on Luke - much to your step-brother’s distaste when he notices me.”

Obi-Wan would swear on the Force that as he mentions Luke’s name, for a split second your eyes filled with that spark he thought you lost. Maybe you weren’t that doomed after all.

“Luke? My nephew? How is he? Is he tall already? I mean, I know, he’s 5 but is he okay? Are they taking good care of him?”

“Not to worry, milady. They are maybe too protective of him but he’s not actually lacking anything. He’s in good hands.”

“What does he look like? Does he have brown hair like Padmé or is he blonde?”

Obi-Wan was amused by your interest in your nephew. He knew you would ask him about Luke but he didn’t realise how eager you would be to find out more about him. “As far as I am concerned, he is blonde. He’s just like his father with blue eyes and I am sure he’s going to be an excellent pilot. Not like someone.” He gave you a side-glace and you looked at him in disbelieve. Is he really challenging me like this?

“Of course! Make fun of my flying skills! You know, I got better since the Clone Wars and I no longer crash-land as you could see back there.”

“I am never going to forget the moment when you almost killed us while landing and Anakin turned at me and said: ‘See, master? And you complain about my flying!’ I will always remember the face you made! And you didn’t want to talk to us the entire day.”

“You two totally deserved it! Don’t try to sugar-code it!”

“Silent treatment never resolved anything, Y/N. Besides, you could have us all killed.”

“No, we are not going down that road. I did save you so shut it, Jedi! I too have some tricks up my sleeve - you are not as perfect as you think you are.”

“Oh is that so? I thought I was being completely irresistible!”

Your body unintentionally reacted with a flush on your cheeks to his statement. Mostly because it was absolutely true and thanks to the fact that you ran out of ideas of how to out-sass him, you just proclaimed: “Okay, I give up.”

“And what were you doing this whole time? I suppose, you still don’t want to tell me the story behind the ship.”

“Well, no. But I was mostly just moving around the Outer Rim. Nothing too special. I wanted to stay off the radar for as long as possible and I think I was quite good at it. You know, putting my stealth-mastery into practice once again. You wouldn’t be proud of me though. I tried to be true to what I was taught since I was nine. To be a good person and to protect peace in the places I went to and I tried to suppress my emotions about all this but… I couldn’t do that. I thought that the Republic were the good guys and I thought that the Jedi, although not exactly always right, were too the good guys. We had each other’s back and now all of that is gone and call me stupid or naive for having hart time adjusting to that. Sometimes it just gets too rough and too much to take, knowing that all of what I was fighting for tumbled down… I’m sorry, it’s just been getting to me lately.”

Obi-Wan put a hand on your shoulder. “I understand. It wasn’t easy for neither of us but it was worse for you. I know how miserable you were when Yoda told you that you should stay out of Luke and Leia’s lives.”

“That’s not the only thing that’s bothering me.”

“What is it then? I am here, you can talk to me about anything. I might not have the solution but I am listening. If that’s enough?”

You were tense. How would you tell him this? How were you supposed to say it out loud? You could still see it in front of your eyes and it was haunting you in your dreams. Never in a million years would you thought that this would happen. After all that you’ve been through you thought he knew better and a part of you still felt like he didn’t deserve it. You closed your eyes to calm yourself down.

You swallowed. “Have you felt… something? Even if it was just in the back of your head…Do you know anything about Anakin?”

Now Obi-Wan knew what you meant. His hand rubbed your back as he sighed. He heard about him a couple of weeks ago. Anger, sadness and helplessness were boiling inside him. He thought Anakin died on Mustafar and when he overheard that Darth Vader was actually causing some problems out there in the Galaxy, he was horrified.

“I found out some time ago. I couldn’t believe it.”

You bit on your lip to stop the sobs coming out from your throat. Salty water blurred your vision. Your heart was aching. You somehow always felt that he wasn’t killed, the feeling of your brother was still present but to learn that he is now a huge threat in the galaxy was not only shocking but also tragic and traumatizing. You blinked and teardrops fell down. You quickly brushed them away and took three deeps breaths.

“Forgive me my sentiment but… It’s hard to deal with that because I remember all those times during the Clone Wars and despite the fact that it was a war, it was actually… Some of the best time of my life. We lost our friends, we were shaken and not once and we risked our lives for a better cause and we were heroes thanks to that but we… We had each other. Me, Anakin, Padmé and you. Even Ahsoka and Rex and Cody! It felt like a family. Yeah, a very dysfunctional family but… It was something to let you know where you belong… Where home is. If I wasn’t on a mission with Ani and Snips, I’d be with Padmé or you, just having the time of my life. It wasn’t perfect but if I knew what was to come, I would certainly more appreciate it then! Now I just…” You covered your face in your palms, crying. “I wish I could just forget that this is happening.” Echoed your voice from behind your hands.

Kenobi felt your despair and pulled you into him, letting you cry your feelings out while holding you in his arms. He himself didn’t exactly process the events yet, but he knew that you needed his support right now much more than he needed yours. He waited for you for five long years and he was ready to wait for next 50 if it meant he could see you one more time. Now he didn’t want to make your issues seem smaller because he felt betrayed too. He wanted to help you get through this so he kept on rocking you back and forward until you looked up. He caressed your cheek and lightly kissed your forehead. He was well aware of what your supposed family meant for you so he decided to let you feel like you still have at least a part of it. Because you do. Dispite his Jedi teaching, he would never let you go.

“Tomorrow I’m going to take you to see Luke. Owen will probably throw us out but if it is going to help you, I’ll take you there.”

“Thank you, Obi-Wan. Thank you so much.”

“Don’t mention it, Y/N.”

You melted into his embrace and listened to his heartbeat. He was a soothing presence to you. He’s always been. After getting over your depressive emotions, you found a warm feeling creeping up from inside you. You buried it deep down so it wouldn’t bring you pain while you and Obi were apart. As you were so close there, it was coming back up to the surface. This time, though, there was no Code, no Jedi Council, no forbidden attachments to make you feel wrong about what you felt. Obi-Wan sensed this change in mood and smiled to himself. He felt it coming back too.

After you both showered - separately, may I add, we’re not there yet - and changed into more comfortable clothes, you decided to go to sleep. He insisted you keep the bed to which you replied: “Obi-Wan, there’s no way you’re sleeping on the floor and I want to feel like I am not alone in here so just… Are you up for cuddles? Please? I need my cuddling buddy back.”

He just shook his head in amusement and didn’t say anything. He couldn’t reject you at this point. Not to mention that when you were together on missions to deal with some Jedi business with no one around, snuggles were on a daily basis. Although I must say, there was one time when Anakin appeared out of the blue, saw you two getting way too close for friends and wouldn’t shut up about it for a week. It was kind of cue though.

Obi-Wan tugged himself under the sheets next to you on his not-so-comfortable bed and lay on his back. You put your arm around him and placed your head on his chest. His heartbeat was steady and calming. Even though you were tired, you couldn’t close your eyes to fall asleep. You had to wonder what is Luke like and what will you feel when you see him. You held him once when he was born and couldn’t help but wonder if he is Force-sensitive too. It would be only logical.

“Obi-Wan?”

“Umhm…”

“Do you think that Luke and Leia should be raised to be Jedi?”

“Well, I hope so. I don’t know about Leia but Luke is so much like Anakin when he was a child, it would surprise me if he wouldn’t grow up to be one.”

“Who’s going to show him?”

“I am. If you’ll stay, you can help.”

You tighten your grip around him. “I don’t know. The problem is that I and Ani had such a bond through the Force and I still feel him and I fear that if I stay here, he may be able to find me.”

“Why would he come back to the planet that represents everything he despises? Slavery, his mother’s death, sand.”

“I know but he had the chance to kill me before as a Vader and he didn’t. What if the Sith have some plans with me? What if they want me to turn to the Dark side?”

“I highly doubt that would happen.” He protectively put his arms around you. “Mace Windu taught you about the Dark side and when they could turn you to it completely, they had no interest in doing that. Why would they suddenly change their minds?”

“I don’t know. I guess you’re right but the possibility of hurting you or Luke is making me go nuts.”

“I understand that but again, Anakin knew that even with your knowledge of the Force and with our feelings for each other being strictly against the Code, you stayed loyal to the Order. Even now when things are so uncivilized, you still decided not to turn, that shows your strength and even if Vader senses you, he will see that.”

“You mean he would rather kill me than try to turn me? Yeah, cool, can’t wait.”

“You know what I meant. You don’t need to worry about him. If he comes, which he won’t, he’ll have to get over me first, anyway.” He kissed your hair and whispered: “Good night, my love.”

You spent so much time in space and on cold planets that now walking around the sands of Tatooine was an absolute horror. You were sweating and thirsty and the two suns high on the sky were blinding your vision. You and Obi were on your way to Owen and Beru’s moisture farm. You never saw or met them but Ani told you about them. He blamed them a little bit for not searching for Shmi and you couldn’t help but feel the same. You were sure they were good people but at the same time maybe if they did something more, your mom would be still alive. You knew these thoughts were not the Jedi way but let’s face it, you and your brother were never the perfect examples of the Jedi.

Obi-Wan stopped and pointed into the distance where you could see a small dot on the horizon.

“That is where they live but maybe you should go on your own. Owen isn’t really fond of me and if you arrive alone and say that you are his step-sister, he’s probably gonna let you in. I’ll wait for you somewhere here.”

“Okay. Thank you, Obi-Wan. I really appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome but umm, I changed my name.”

“You changed your name? To what?”

“I call myself Ben Kenobi now.”

You sighed. “Satine used to call you that.”

He just nodded and you smiled at him. She meant so much for him when they were young that you understood why he did that. He wanted to pay her some tribute. Besides, you would have done the same if you were at his place.

“Well, Ben, wish me luck.”

He squizzed your hand and started to walk away. You swallowed and walked the other way, towards your distant family house. You were nervous and excited at the same time. You desperately wanted to meet Luke but you didn’t know what would Owen and Beru think about you being there. As you almost reached your destination, a sight in front of you made you stop in your tracks. There was a little blonde boy sitting in sand playing with some droid parts. He didn’t seem to notice you so you stood there amazed. He looked exactly like his father. You felt tears of happiness mixed with nostalgia burn in your eyes. You covered your mouth as Luke’s toy fell apart and he mumbled under his breath. You sniffed and made your way to where he was sat.

Luke turned around startled. “Hello. Who are you?”

“Hi…” you whispered, gaining strength to speak more. “Umm, you’re Luke Skywalker, aren’t you?”

“Yes, I am. But I asked you first.” He made a grimace of childish anger and you had to smile. You dropped to his level and held out your hand. “My name is Y/N Skywalker.”

His expression changed. Obviously he knew that name and kept on wandering his eyes between your hand and your face.

“You are my dad’s sister?”

You nodded.

“Uncle and aunt told me about you. They said you would never come.” He took your hand and held onto it.

“I am sorry. For everything. I am so sorry, Luke. You were supposed to live with your parents somewhere else and enjoying your life very differently.”

“I like it here.” He was genuine but you knew that one day this place would be too tiny for him.

“Okay.” You stroke his cheek and you sensed the Force in him but he pulled away.

“I shouldn’t talk to strangers.”

That hurt. You were a stranger. He didn’t know you and even if you loved your nephew so much, this was the first time he saw you.

“That’s right, you shouldn’t. I hope that one day I won’t be a stranger to you anymore but for now… It was lovely to meet you, Luke.”

“Sure. It was lovely to meet you too, umm…Should I call aunt Y/N?”

“That’d be great.”

“What would be great?”

Both your heads shot up as you heard a voice. There was a man with scruffy in grey robes and he looked mad.

“Luke, come here.”

“It’s okay, uncle. This is Y/N. She’s my dad’s sister. You told me about her.”

You stood up and Owen frowned at you. He shook your hand, though he was suspicious.

“Luke is telling the truth. I am Anakin Skywalker’s sister and just came to say hello. I never had a chance to properly meet him and I stopped by and I couldn’t go without meeting my nephew. You too. From what I understand, you are my step-brother. Thank you for taking care of the boy.”

Owen crossed his arms over his chest. “Kenobi told you where to find us?”

“Is that a problem?”

“No. I’m glad that we finally met but I don’t want your Jedi stuff anywhere near Luke. His parents had life bad enough and I don’t want him to get hurt like they and you did.”

You blinked confused. You sensed Luke’s connection to the Force and you knew he would become aware of it sooner or later. “We got burned. Many times, I admit but neither Ben Kenobi nor I mean any harm to him or to you.”

“I believe you. On the other hand, why add insult to injury?”

A sandstorm was raging outside. You were supposed to be on your way by now but something always came into it, making it impossible for you to leave the planet. You’ve been living with Obi-Wan for 9 days now and as much as you were scared something unfortunate was going to happen because of your sibling bond, you couldn’t deny how your mood improved over time. You finally had a moment to breathe, to live, to drop the worries because when he was around simply being himself, it was so easy to forget the reality. It would come back to hit you later but when he was telling you stories, he heard in the Mos Eisley Cantina and you two would laugh, it didn’t matter. When you two cooked and tried to combine both of your (anti)talents, sometimes it resulted in friendly arguments and spilt tea. At night, you would fall asleep in each other’s arms only to wake up to the warmth of the body next to you and the calming feeling of safety. If there would be anyone to witness it, they’d say they’re watching a married couple doing normal things. It felt right being there, being like that, although it was a bit strange at first. It made you feel wanted, welcomed and loved. It gave you a sense of much-needed belonging. Little did you know that Obi-Wan felt the same.

It was already late at night but you couldn’t sleep and the sandstrom made you feel uncomfortable. It had been 15 years since the last time you experienced one and you didn’t like remembering it. It brought up old fears to the surface. Lucky for you, though, former Jedi Master managed to stay up as well to keep you company.

“Will you finally tell me where did you get the ship?”

You smirked. “From a friend.”

“A friend? What friend?”

“Don’t be jealous.”

“I am not! I am just… curious.”

You turned to sit on the bed face to face with him. “We’re not the only survivors of the Purge. There are more Jedi in the galaxy.”

“I knew we couldn’t be the only ones!” His eyes filled with hope.

“I met a guy called Kal Cestis. He was a padawan when it happened. He helped me to get my new ship. Not exactly new but better than nothing since my original one broke down.”

“Hmm… Interesting. Do you know anything about Ahsoka?”

“Unfortunately no. I haven’t seen her anywhere. Not that I’ve been to many places but if she’s alive, she’s hidden well.”

“I don’t think she gave up like that. She must be somewhere out there.”

“I really hope that she is. I miss her.”

“We both do,” Obi replied and caressed your cheek. You leaned into his touch and closed your eyes. It was an intimate moment that you decided to delve into.

Obi-Wan was watching you, trying to print this image in his memory. He never wanted to forget you and the way you made him feel. It was precious and sacred to him. You were captivating, graceful and he was thanking the Force every day for bringing you back into his miserable life. He didn’t deserve you and yet he never wanted to let go off you. He couldn’t. He knew it was selfish of him to want you all for himself but he was too attached.

“Y/N?”

“Um?” You opened your eyes to look into his. You were cantured by his intense gaze and your lips parted. You weren’t used to him staring at you like that as if you were the most devine creature in the galaxy and your cheeks turned the deepest shade of pink.

“Can I kiss you?”

Your stomach flipped and your held your breath for a second. You blinked several times before placing your hand over his, still resting on your cheek. “Yes.” was a simple word but there was so much more behind it.

Obi-Wan lowered his head to your level and cupped your face to pull you to him. You couldn’t believe it. After so many years of loving this man and having to hide it, you were able to finally express it. You waited for him to softly press his lips to yours. It was sweet, slow and filled with so much emotion. All of the unsaid ‘I love you’s, all of the suppressed feelings, all of it finally blossemed into this special moment. Electricity ran through both of you at the slight touch. It was new and you couldn’t quite put a finger on this feeling inside you. It was your first kiss after all! Obi-Wan was your first crush, first love, now first kiss and most definitelly he was going to be your first also in another way.

He pulled away to see your reactions but you didn’t let him. Your hands shifted to his neck and brought him back to you. He started kissing you properly this time and let himself loose. Deepening the kiss, he found himself hovering over you and soon you were lying under him. You both laughed as your back hit the bed. He kissed you one more time and lay down onto his side next to you. You stared in his eyes that reflected all the kindness in the world.

“Y/N, I know where you stand, I know Master Yoda told you to stay away from Luke and Leia and I know that you’re afraid what would happen if you stay here longer but please. We’ll figure it out somehow… I love you, Y/N. I have for years now.” He brushed your hair out of your forehead and played with it for a while. “I can’t let you go after this. I won’t. I wanted to be with you for so long and now that we are finally allowed to be ourselves freely, I am begging not to go. Please.”

“I have already made up my mind and I am not backing up.”

He kissed the tip of your nose to shut you and took your hand in his. “Yes. It is up to you in the end. I can’t make decisions for you, I know. I don’t want you to go but the last thing that I do want is to be forcing you into something. Even if you'll leave… I promise that I will wait for you. I have waited ages, I can wait a little longer. I’d really rather not but you are worth it, stars.”

“Obi-Wan…”

He smiled sadly and it broke your heart. He was giving you freedom even when he was lonely. He was fully aware of your stubborness but this time you gave in.

“You are the love of my life. You’ve always been. I have loved you so much all this time and I always will. I want to stay but I am too scared that something’s gonna happen to you or to Luke so I… I thought about it and…” You squeezed his hand. “I decided to cut myself of from the Force so that I could have a life with you.”

“What?!”

“I have made my peace with it. I am like a beacon to Vader if he decides to search for me, this is the only way I can have what I want. You.”

Obi was staring in disbelief. You just decided what your faith was going to be and Obi-Wan was the happiest man alive. He was shooked at first but soon happiness and pure joy took over him and he hugged you, nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck. You pulled him even closer to you as you let the sandstorm outside be completelly forgotten.

It’s been about a week since you and Obi were living officially together in your new home. It wasn’t ideal nor perfect but hey! What is in this galaxy, right?

You were walking hand-in-hand from a town where you successfully sold your ship, Soka. It was a little sad since she reminded you of your adveture with Kal and of your friend Snips but at the same time, you were most likely never going to need her again. Hopefully.

The two suns were shinning bright, tanning your skin. The course and rough sand was cracking underneath your weight as you walked. The dry air made you thirsty and at some point you couldn’t help but cough. You two were wandering around the place without putting much thought into it and before you knew it, you pauzed.

“Won’t we reach the spot were you first landed on Tatooine if you continue walking that way?”

“I think we will.”

“So this is where it all started. The Skywalker’s journey straight to the botom!”

“Not straight.”

You gave him a you-know-what-I-mean look.

“I’m just teasing. Sorry, Y/N.”

“You always are, I don’t mind but... Actually, you know what? I think I want to change my name too.”

“What? Why? Your name is so lovely!”

“Because it is my choice, not yours, mine. I guess I want to asociate myself with something different. I want to disconnect from my past and focus on the future. Luke’s gonna carry on the Skywalker legacy. It wouldn’t fair if no one carried on yours. Besides, Y/N Kenobi sounds pretty great, doesn’t it?”

Obi-Wan was staring at you with open mouth. “You want to take my last name?”

You put your arms around his shoulders. “I do. I mean, you’re not getting married but still you can take this as a sign of my devotion. I truly, deeply love you and I want to be all yours - body, soul, even the surname.”

He didn’t know exactly how to react to that, so he just crashed his lips onto yours. He was astonished. “I love you so much, my sweet Y/N. You are the greatest thing that happened to me. Although not the name, I am yours too. Body and soul.”

You pulled him into a tight embrace. People passing you by were giving you strange looks but it’s not like any of you cared. You simply stayed in the moment, forgetting all your worries. It was a promising day for you two, after all. Promising for your relationship but most importantly it meant a new start. It was an enterance to a brighter state of existance and a new stage in life. A stage where you could finally be a little selfish and build a life for yourselves. A life where your and Obi’s love, was the only thing that mattered.

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laceymorganwrites · 4 years

Text

Serendipity part 1

Word Count: 1,846

Pairing: None yet

Warnings: swearing, dark themes (self worth issues, Eating disorder)

Summary: (Y/N) is a Nurse that finds a bleeding Dabi in the Elevator and takes care of him

Credit: @hoemine for the Reader being a medic and her reaction to Dabi

Taglist: @varia-venus

You just home from a late shift at the hospital and were ready to head straight to bed. With everything going on in the clinic you worked in, be that shitty patients or coworkers who insulted your knowledge, you really learned to anticipate the moment you could finally leave.

It was like a relief, you were a nice person, but work has been very stressful lately.

So when you stepped into the elevator and saw a man bleeding out, instead of screaming in shock or disgust, you just groaned and crouched down to him, pressing the button to your floor.

“Hello? Can you hear me?” you tapped him lightly, how long has he been in here? It couldn´t be long, he hasn´t lost that much of blood yet, but enough for you to do something right now before it was too late.

The man moved, but you held him down.

“Don´t move! You´re gonna make it worse that way” you helped him up and tried to support him as best as you could before you stumbled into your apartment.

You carefully laid him down on the couch and got all of your first-aid things.

“Alright, where´s the wound?” you asked, smiling at him despite the situation.

Dabi pointed to his stomach, but was too weak to lift his shirt alone.

He didn´t think anything in this situation, he was barely holding on. All the regrets and consequences this could have came later.

You carefully removed the fabric of his clothing from his wound before cleaning and stitching it up.

“There you go! You can rest here for the night and should eat something when you´re better. And drink something too, but for now, just rest” you got him a blanket and then went to sleep yourself.

Dabi didn´t sleep well at all, he had feverish dreams and woke up with a murderous headache.

What the fuck happened last night? And why was he still here?

Oh right, some drunk fuck jumped him last night, but that was only natural Looking as hideous as Dabi did, it was a given so to speak. He scared people and when they were afraid they did stupid things.

Just like you did.

He watched you make breakfast for him and it infuriated him, it was like he watched a life he knew he could never have, a life he actively disregarded a long time ago.

“Oh, you´re awake” you noticed and came over to him with the food and water.

“How´s the wound? You shouldn´t move around too much or it´ll open again” you instructed him, still saying seated next to him.

It irritated him, you should have thrown him out, be in the farthest corner away from him or shouldn´t even have let him in.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” he gnarled at you, making you blink in surprise.

“Nothing really, I saw a hurt person and helped.” you answered honestly.

“Well that´s fucking stupid of you, I could´ve killed you” he raised his voice but you didn´t flinch.

“So? You didn´t. And I told you not to move around, the stitches are gonna come off” you warned him again.

“Don´t you know who I am? I mean taking a hurt stranger into your home is one thing, sure still stupid, but me? Now that´s just like a deer in the fucking headlights… you´re gonna regret it, trust me” he sourly stated.

You sighed heavily.

“Look, I know you´re a villain and frankly I couldn´t care less about that. If I see a hurt person I´m helping them and that´s that. Besides, I never liked heroes that much anyway. Now eat your fucking food before it gets cold, or do I have to feed you with it?” you crossed your arms and looked down on him.

Dabi reluctantly grabbed the fork you held to his face and started eating, you made sure he ate and drank all of it.

You smiled to yourself and Dabi pouted a bit, looking away from you. Why did you look like you had the upper hand? Like you could read him easily, like you knew him? And why did that make him feel so vulnerable, so exposed?

The way you looked at him as if he was weak made him want to prove you wrong, after all proving people wrong was his fuel.

Yes, he might be a wounded animal as of right now, but that didn´t mean that you had control over him, you had to be fuckdumb to think that. Dabi didn´t like naive people like you, it was like you were asking to be robbed or killed…

Without another word he left your apartment, standing up too quickly as he noticed, but he was used to the dizziness his head gave him due to his weak immune system and circulation.

Somehow you got the feeling that this wouldn´t be the last time you saw him.

Your life continued, you were back at the hospital, working your ass off without getting credited.

As always.

One week later Dabi knocked on your door, well, it was rather a thud as he leaned against your door to support his body.

So as you opened the door he practically fell onto you, luckily you were able to get him to the couch again.

His appearance spooked you, he was deathly pale and breathed very thinly. His wound must´ve gotten infected, of course he didn´t listen to you, you should´ve seen it coming.

But why did he come back to you?

He probably didn´t know where else to go.

It was scary how easily you could lift him, it was as if he was just skin and bones.

And again you got your first-aid kit and got to work.

“Told you the stitches would rip...” you mumbled as you cleaned the wound again, you were right, it was infected.

He winced as you put the cooling salve on his wound, making it a bit hard for you to stitch it back up.

“Stop moving, you´ll make it worse. And stop being a fucking baby, I thought you were a big bad villain that I need to watch out for” you teased him even, which honestly was only possible in his weakened state so you exploited that as much as possible.

Luckily he listened to you, well he passed out from blood loss, but still, he was quiet now.

You finished your treatment and put his dirty shirt in the laundry before cooking dinner.

When you finished cooking, Dabi was still passed out, so you moved his legs a bit to the side so you could sit down next to him and watch TV.

He groaned when he woke up and gave you a questioning look.

“I feel like I´m gonna throw up…” he held his head, it felt like it would explode any minute now and he couldn´t wait for it.

“Don´t move, I´ll be right back” you sighed as you stood up to get a bucket from your bathroom.

When you got back, Dabi tried to get into a more comfortable position, making you roll your eyes.

“What about don´t move don´t you understand?” you put the bucket next to him and went to the kitchen to prepare a plate full of food and a glass of water for him.

You couldn´t help but notice how frail and skinny he was, how he had to force himself to eat the first time you treated him. But nutrition was important if he wanted the wound to heal completely.

“I don´t want my neck to get sore...” he grumbled, crossing his arms.

“Are you cold? I can get you a blanket” you asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

He just smirked.

“I don´t get cold” he scoffed, his eyes emitting the feeling of disgust.

“Is that so...” you sighed, giving him the glass.

“You should drink something, for your circulation. It´s weak” you stated, continuing your dinner and TV show.

“I´m not weak” he pouted.

You faced him with your arms on your hips.

“Sure you aren´t… look, I don´t care about your reputation or whatever, I´m just saying your body needs to rest and gain some strength otherwise the wound won´t close and heal. If you don´t treat it right you´re gonna die. So you could at least try to cooperate here with me” you instructed.

He took the glass after a while and took a tiny sip from it, eyeing you sideways.

You only raised an eyebrow and waited for him to at least finish half of the glass.

“Come on, your food´s gonna get cold” you handed him a fork, softening your features and your voice and smile was gentle.

“I´m not hungry” he said quietly.

You said nothing for a while, not wanting to push the matter.

“You have to eat, even if it´s just little. You´ll feel better” you quickly glanced at him.

He frowned, he didn´t like to eat, it always made him feel sick.

Dabi shook his head, thinking back on all the times he had to live out of a dumpster, those years of his life made him lose all sense of taste. It got to a point where all kinds of foods tasted disgusting to him, even though they weren´t. It was just the act of eating food and swallowing it that made his body act up.

But if he ate little by little as you suggested… maybe he´d feel better.

However that also meant he had to admit that you were right and there were little things he hated more than that, his father being one of them.

Finally after a few long moments of silence you took the fork from his hand, dug into the food and held it in front of his face.

“Open up” you ordered and subconsciously Dabi´s mouth opened.

He chewed for a very long time before overcoming his rejection for food and allowing himself to swallow it.

Immediately after he was scared of throwing up, like he always did when he ate too much.

And too much for him wasn´t even half enough for others.

“It´s alright… take your time” you softly said, smiling at him.

He was gripping the bucket as if his life depended on it.

After a bit Dabi managed to eat by himself and you got his now clean shirt, handing it to him wordlessly.

“I can´t eat anymore...” he silently admitted, looking down on the floor in shame, biting his lip and frowning.

“It´s alright, your body has to get used to it again, but I think we can manage that” you smiled at him and finished his meal yourself.

“We?” he asked.

“Well, yes, your wound needs to heal properly, it´ll take a few days. So that makes you my new roommate for now” you giggled.

Dabi just nodded, he gave up with talking back to you. It seemed fruitless and maybe, just maybe he liked being taken care of for once.

What possible consequences could there be? It was just a few days…

#boku no hero academia #boku no hero academia imagine #boku no hero academia dabi #dabi x reader #dabi #bnha #bnha imagine #bnha dabi #my hero academia #my hero academia imagine #my hero academia dabi #mha #mha dabi #mha imagine

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katsukisbeatingheart · 5 years

Text

adolebitque manet

breakups suck. and sometimes you just need to burn your ex's shit.

word count: 2573

ao3!

Ridiculous piece of crap.

You yanked the chain.

Pathetic promises.

You tore the letter.

And a long dead rose.

The stem twirled between your fingertips, and you didn't even flinch when a thorn along the spine left a gash in your index finger.

Typical.

It was however, enough for you to breathe deeply, and exhale—more over the case of everything they used to be.

Cheat.

Cheat. Cheat. Cheat. Cheat.

Liar.

Your bloody finger found the wasted tears before you did. Poetic, how they mixed and dripped over the broken pieces in front of you. A blood oath to break another blood oath.

How many years had you supported such a beguiling—bewitching feeling? All for naught, only to ruin by such a simple measure.

It wasn't simple though. It was so complicated, it was simple; and it was so simple, it was complicated.

You sneered at the contradiction of such a fact, of such a relationship.

You'd look back on this—hopefully in months time—and laugh at yourself for the dramatic wreck you came to be. Over one person.

One person, who had meant so much to you for so many years.

It had taken you weeks to even think about believing everything you saw to be true. It took another few to agonizingly collect each and every bit of each other, and begin destroying them.

You had strong encouragement from those closest to you, and they were very patient and kind with your struggling heart. Despite your best attempts to recoil, and pay for something you realized only you were probably invested in—they wouldn't let you.

Now here you were, in the middle of your apartment, ready to gather these things up and eviscerate them; but you couldn't do it alone.

The cardboard was flimsy, but it did the job. Sturdy enough to carry the weight of such useless trinkets with heavy price, you dumped and swept in each tiny, bloody bit as roughly as you could—quickly apologizing to the box, a reminder that it wasn't to blame.

You ghosted to your door, moving in a hollow effort to dispose of their evidence.

Softly cracking the door open and angling to look out into the hallway, you peered at your neighbor's doors; ears open, eyes wide for any sign of life.

Mina, Shoji, Tokoyami, Shinso, Izuku—

Your eyes flicked up.

Kirishima, Sero, and Denki are upstairs...

You had a wonderful, wonderful support system. The friends that lived in the same building, and the ones across town—but the more you sifted through your options, the more you couldn't bring yourself to bother any of them with this. No matter how small a request.

With the umpteenth sigh of the evening, your head lolled backward. Your eyes slid closed and your fingers rubbed at the ache settled in your neck. You peeked out of the corner of your eye, glancing down the right side of the hall.

There was only one more door facing opposite yours—at a diag to the fire escape window at the end of the hall, and you.

It was impulsive, and despite everything—your best option.

The two meter walk in your cement shoes felt like pouring a jar of molasses on a winter's day. Gathering courage to actually knock felt like pouring two jars of molasses on a winter's day.

It was inevitable, you decided—especially if he opened the door to step out only to find you standing there petrified in your own grief and nerves—and two gentle taps and a third slightly harsher, more desperate rap later, crimson red eyes glowered at you in annoyance.

"Oi. Do you know what fuckin' time it i—"

His abrasiveness grated to a humbling halt in the face of a wholy distraught you. He wasn't one to gossip, or even to put any stock into useless chatter of the sort; but even he knew you were keeping life together by pins and needles. And he didn't even need to have Ashido as a neighbor to know that, because he was looking at the tangled disaster right now.

Your shoulders shook, and the barely kept together bite of your lip with vacant eyes told him he needed to close his mouth and keep it that way.

He was generally coarse, brusque, and blunt—not stupid or blind.

You steeled your regard, holding a determined glint in your eye and a placating plead beneath it.

"Bakugo I need you to do me a favor."

"What is it."

"Burn this for me."

You held the box out between the two of you, handling it with a nauseating combination of disdain and care. Bakugo quickly brushed through the contents with a quickly baleful sweep of his eyes, and you were too numb to bother wondering why the hostility. It was enough you were baring such personal trinkets—yet thoroughly clichéd banalities—to someone of his caliber. You parts trusted him to suggest a certain modicum of consideration, and tiny parts trusted yourself to be too beaten down to care otherwise.

The regret at such irresolution toward your longtime neighbor and friend, ebbed away as he looked back up to you with a certain fire in his eyes. It warmed you abruptly in ways you didn't understand at all.

Bakugo jerked his head to the side, his body following along with it as he stepped aside to invite you in. You said nothing, catching your breath in a purposeful stride, ducking past his shoulder. You strode in confidently, but faltered not far from the doormat when you noticed how long it had been since you'd been there.

The lights were off, and the far wall—ceiling to floor sliding glass doors up one step, leading to a balcony looking over the other part of the city night lights—bled with the light of the moon, illuminating a living space shaped like yours, but not at all how you remembered it being from however long ago.

There were new pieces of furniture rearranged in a way that suggested the man was open to having guests—mostly Eijiro, Denki, Sero, and Mina, you figured. Matte black couch cushions, with silver finishings along the frame; a dark wooden circular dining table in front of the bar attached to the kitchen, right by the glass doors—a rather romantic placement, especially for him, you marvelled; deep brown cabinets with lighter hardwood doors, occupying the back right hand corner where the kitchen was.

You turned to glance at the potted plant and admired how generally... homey the place felt. Either Bakugo had been invaded by a homes and gardens magazine, or he had grown quite the honeyed eye.

Your admiration melted into remorse, quicker than the fondness came. You couldn't even remember how long it had been since you'd visited.

In hindsight, you immediately knew it was because you'd spent all of your time with...

I must've been a real shitty friend.

"What was that?"

His questions were coming out more as gruff statements, any inquisitiveness overrode by the demand for an answer. It almost made you smile, before, again, you remembered why you'd missed that so much.

You didn't even know you'd spoken aloud, and were too tired to avoid it now.

"I must've been terrible to you," you whispered.

You felt the air grow stale with awkward tension. Bakugo raised a hand to run through his hair, stopping at the base of his neck. He didn't know what to say.

But you did.

"I'm so sorry, Katsuki," you breathed. "I'm so sorry—I feel like I completely neglected you, and I'm only realizing this now, after I've come to you when I need something and I can't believe it's taken me this long to—to see that. You must feel so— so—"

Used. Ignored.

Cheated.

You clenched your fists, squeezing your eyes shut in suffocating reproach.

You turned to face him head on. You were going to deal with this with dignity—completely ready for the growling consequences and the scorching anger.

The thundering shouting.

Biting rejection.

Unadulterated hatred.

None of that came. Instead, Bakugo's eyes reflected with an intense sheen of pain—as if everything you left unsaid came swinging back to him in full force. Like he'd been repressing those exact accusations the entire time.

You wanted to scream. You wanted him to scream. You wanted somebody to scream.

It wasn't a scream, but his voice was indomitable enough to be.

"Let's fucking burn this thing."

Glass shattered, the dam broke, and you moaned once—exhaling a jagged breath of relief, anguish, and extreme adoration. The tears poured and you shoved them away with the palms of your hand, laughing and crying with a silent nod. Bakugo roughly pulled the box from your hands, stalking briskly toward the glass doors. He slammed them open, and you heard them rattle. You weren't afraid, though. He wasn't mad at you.

He dropped the container on the concrete floor with a harsh bang, and you didn't miss the crack of a frame breaking with a picture of you and them. You doubt he did either.

Bakugo held out his right hand—fingers down, palm up—to the box. You watched him with something in your heart, as he ignited. It was piercing, and brought back memories of special moves you worked on in high school. You'd seen him nearly blow his arm off trying to get this kind of precision, and now you'd see him on T.V., using it for hero work as if he'd been doing it since the day he was born. You remembered gushing about how amazing he was, every single time he managed to do something new.

Yes, Bakugo had used this move to best and save many people.

In an instant, flames shot straight for the box, and suddenly you were engulfed in light. Just like fireworks, the contents popped and crackled, and just like fireworks, you were completely mesmerized. The light from your little conflagration poured warmth over everything you could feel. You were positively glowing.

You bit back tears that no longer needed to be spent on the likes of them. You were the one who wasted away in the company of someone who never really cared about you.

Since then, you'd forgotten about the ones that really and truly did.

You looked to Bakugo, watching the shadows dance menacingly across his face. The ferocity, and damn near animalistic malice singed more than the fire he made did. Your eyes widened in surprise.

As if he felt you staring, he turned.

Fully.

Fully facing you with much softer eyes and an expression you knew that came from being a hero.

It was as if to say you're safe now.

You choked and let more tears fall, feeling a combination of cold and searing in light of the fire.

"Katsuki," you whispered.

For the first time in your life, you watched him hesitate. He stepped forward, looking so vulnerable as he tried to grasp for words. The space between you came to about a hand's length, and the heavy rise and fall of his chest vibrated along your skin. Bakugo's eyes clouded, and your mouth went dry with that feeling again.

"Marshmallows."

You blinked.

"...What?" You weren't sure you heard him right.

"Here," he began, taking your hand in his as he turned around and led you back inside. Bakugo didn't let go, until he set you at one of the barstools, to move past and dig through one of his upper cabinets. After a moment of shuffling, he pulled away to reveal a family sized bag of puffy white marshmallows, and a big bar of chocolate. He tossed the bag of sweets towards you, his mouth quirking into a little smirk.

The warmth you'd been feeling more and more since you'd got here exploded in your chest, and you felt it rise to your cheeks.

"And don't think I forgot—" Bakugo bent down and pulled open a bottom drawer. He fished something out that crinkled and reflected small bits of light, and smacked it on the bar countertop, right in front of you.

The childish squeal burst out before you could think.

"Cookies!"

Bakugo rolled his eyes and desperately tried to bury his bliss beneath an annoyed click of his tongue. He really missed you.

"What a fucking dork," he mumbled not-so-quietly under his breath. He could hide it all he wanted but you caught the smile in his voice anyway.

Bakugo's eyes glazed as he watched you giggle, and he—almost tentatively—grasped your hand again, uncharacteristic gentleness as he pulled you back outside.

You stared dazedly at yours in his—but mostly his—and wondered why the sudden touchiness.

In all honestly, Bakugo couldn't figure himself; but when he did pin the feeling—he might've just been scared to see you go again.

He handed you the collection of sweets, going to bring out chairs to sit on. You touched his shoulder and shook your head, grabbing a blanket you noticed stretched out along the balcony fence. You flicked it outward, laying it as close as possible to the fire—setting the chocolate, marshmallows, and cookies in the middle.

Looking up to meet his eyes, you patted the spot next to you. For the first time—in a long time—you watched Katsuki's cheeks flush. No matter how badly you wanted to be the one to do that to him, you convinced yourself that it was nothing but the cold of the night or the heat of the flames.

The boy dropped down beside you, holding out a skewer without making eye contact.

As a pair, you silently worked marshmallows onto the sticks, and held them over the fragments of your burning relationship.

"Hope we don't get poisoned or something, doing this," you broke the silence wryly, eyeing the disfigured picture frame and the horribly burnt photo inside of it.

"Not a bad way to go, really." Katsuki too, was looking at the fire, and you did your best to not linger on the implications behind that statement.

"Death by marshmallows," you tapped your chin thoughtfully, "I'll take it."

"That's not what I meant."

You looked away from your toasting sweet, and studied him with dinner-plate eyes. The curiosity and... desire, you figured, smoldered, and you were sure he stared back with intensity rivalling yours. The silence—besides the crackling of fire and melting of sour memories—pressed down on you and you were positive you could fall into him, and get lost and it would be okay—

"You're gonna burn your s'mores, dumbass," Katsuki whispered. You were sitting shoulder to shoulder. He smelled sweet.

The smile climbing its way to your face settled in under a slightly disbelieving laugh.

"Right."

Knees hugged to your chest, you drifted not too far from him, and focused on the flames.

"Hey, Katsuki?"

"Yeah?"

Inhaling with more than enough steadiness to still the ocean, you sighed, feeling more weightless than you'd felt in the last two months.

"Thank you."

With every second that burned by, you felt a sort of resolve subside and thicken—less like the cast iron chains that held you back hours and months ago, and more like a promise.

To yourself.

To him.

Bakugo Katsuki shrugged, and as he did so he moved the tiniest bit closer. His voice was quiet when he spoke.

"I'm just glad you're back."

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enkelimagnus · 5 years

Text

Selfish - Chap 1

Jace x Lydia / Post-Canon

Read on AO3

Jace walks through the corridors of the Accords Hall in Alicante. It feels strange, still, to call this place Alec’s home, when it’s just so removed from the place they grew up in, the New York Institute. Alec is not exactly expecting him, Jace portalled in with Magnus earlier and didn’t tell his parabatai.

Magnus’ own visit is far from a surprise, since he comes every other day almost, unable to keep himself away from his husband for too long. They make it work, Alec working as interim Inquisitor while Jia Penhallow cleans the corruption out of the Clave’s innermost circle.

Jace admires them, really. Every qualm he had with Magnus has been quieted long ago, somewhere in between the multiple times that Magnus has saved his life, Alec’s life… All of their lives.

They have been married for almost a year now. Their relationship is the most beautiful thing Jace has ever seen. It makes him miss being in one himself, even if he’s resolved himself never to go to someone who isn’t Clary.

Clary’s doing okay. She’s living, she’s thriving, almost, in her mundane life. He watches sometimes from afar, he watches her date other people, and none of the relationships working out. He gets mad at his own satisfaction when he sees her being unable to love someone else.

It’s cruel, truly. It’s cruel of him to be so happy that she’s stuck not loving anyone but someone she doesn’t know exists.

Jace swallows. Everywhere he goes, he’s reminded of her. Alicante bears her mark, where she tried to stop Jonathan during the battle. The city is still being rebuilt now, but soon, he won’t see the consequences of her bond to her brother anymore.

He’s so taken by the memories of her standing where he walks that he bumps into someone, violently. The person is thrown back, they make a noise of annoyance and hurt and Jace snaps out of his spiral of regret and pain and grief to look at the woman lying on the ground.

“Lydia?” He asks, and walks forward, helping her to her feet. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see you.”

“That was obvious, Jace,” she replies. Her tone is still as dry as it was when she lived at the Institute.

“What are you doing here?” Jace looks at her, she’s carrying a small pile of files and looking exhausted.

“Working,” she has a hint of a smile. “Consul Penhallow asked for the files of the weapons department personnel.”

Jace nods, and he smiles a little. “So you still work with misbehaving shadowhunters… fixing broken systems.”

Lydia huffs, and looks at him. “You’d have thought that I wouldn’t anymore, after the mess that the New York Institute made on my résumé.” She chuckles. “But here I am. One of the few trusted ones.”

“You were always loyal to the Clave,” Jace mentions.

She swallows, and looks away, at the landscape of construction and dust. “A little too much, sometimes.”

Jace nods, and he falls silent for a moment. He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t want to say ‘it’s okay’ because it wasn’t, they both know that. She was racist and she might still be. The way she treated Meliorn makes Jace uncomfortable to this day. He still has issues with looking at him in the eyes, and it’s not only due to the fact that they shared an Alliance rune and Jace said he found Meliorn handsome.

“Listen,” Jace says after a moment. “I have to go see Alec, but… maybe we could see each other some time?”

He doesn’t know why he’s asking that. He and Lydia never had much of a connection. He was too angry, and he was in love with Clary, and he thought Clary was his sister. Alec was going to marry her, and she was prosecuting Izzy. And then she was in the med bay. And then he was on the run, and she’d gone back to Alicante before he could get free from the City of Bones.

Right now, Jace needs anything he can get. He’s not doing alright. People are moving on with their lives, Alec in Alicante with his husband, happy as ever, Izzy as Head of the Institute with Simon as Vampire-Shadowhunter Diplomatic liaison, his mother and Luke thriving, Clary…

Lydia nods. “Sure,” she smiles. She grabs her phone out of her pocket and hands it to him. “Give me your number. That way you’ll warn me if you’re ever in Alicante.”

“I don’t come often. I’m still based in New York,” Jace explains. He was offered other jobs, training young shadowhunters, leading squads, but he couldn’t stay away from Clary. New York is his home, and it’s hers too.

Lydia watches him. “I was told what happened to Clary. I’m sorry.”

“She did the right thing. She sacrificed herself for all of us,” Jace replies, and though he believes those words, he doesn’t want them to sound as good as they do. Clary shouldn’t have been a martyr.

Lydia nods. “She’ll be okay, out there. She’s strong.”

“I’m not afraid about her safety,” Jace admits. “I… I can’t stand to know she’s out there. Alone.”

He knows it’s selfish. He doesn’t fear for her safety, he knows she’s probably happier as a mundane. She told him about art school, she told him she missed being able to draw as often as she wants. Now, she does that.

Lydia looks at him and he watches her back. She’s so different from Clary. She’s older, she’s wiser. She’s calmer too. There is something steady about her that Clary didn't have. Clary was always fighting everyone and everything. Maybe it is because they met in time of war, and lost each other before there could be peace. Jace wonders what she would be like, in times of peace.

What would she be? Would Clary be a Head of Institute? Would she work in Alicante? Would she stay field soldier, even if she’s from an old, powerful family, even if she’s a hero? Jace cannot see her anywhere but in the field or in an art studio. He guesses she got the art studio part.

“I have to go,” Lydia says. Her eyes are softer than he remembers them ever being when they first met. Gone is the austere cold. She watches him with softness. Maybe it’s pity. Maybe not. He hasn’t felt that kind of tenderness in a long time.

He hates himself for thinking like this. Clary is still alive, she’s out there, and one day, she might remember him. If he starts talking to someone, if he starts thinking of someone else as soft and tender and warm, it would be cheating on her. What would she say if she saw him talking to Lydia? Thinking about getting a drink with her?

“I’ll text you,” Jace replies. It’s not a promise. Promises are cheating too. He promised her he would wait for her, even if she doesn’t know that.

Lydia nods at him, a goodbye nod this time, and she walks away. He doesn’t watch her go. He moves forward and goes to knock at the door of Alec’s office.

Alec is happy to see him, and Jace decides that’s all that matters right now.

#jadia #jaia #heronwell #lyace #clace #malec #sizzy #jace herondale #lydia branwell #fic #myfics #mine

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brightjin · 4 years

Text

gender ramble below cut to get it out of my system so i can study so warning: block of text inc

i talked to my counsellor yesterday and we had a rly productive session! we talked abt me obsessing over whether or not i can trust my own feelings and she said that if i can’t trust my feelings, then what can i trust? we also talked about me being afraid of the consequences of coming out and we had a realistic conversation and talked about anxiety management. also me wishing i could just live as a woman, but then feeling extreme discomfort at just saying and typing that probably means thats not a reasonable option. my fear of regretting my choices was also brought up, and we came to the conclusion that i don’t have to be firm about all of my choices, that it’s okay to be nebulous sometimes.

i don’t understand what it’s like to feel like a woman. but i also don’t know what it’s like to feel like a man. all i know is what it’s like to feel like me and what makes me feel comfortable and uncomfortable. i’m just me. that’s the only experience i can claim to understand. i’m not a woman. am i a man? that’s the closest approximation, at least. i feel more comfortable with masculine pronouns. i want stereotypically male features. i want to be perceived as a guy. it makes me feel uncomfortable and disassociated to be perceived as a woman and to have stereotypically female features. these are things that i know and feel to be true.

being a trans guy is the closest approximation to how i feel and want to be perceived. but i’m just me. i’m just making changes to make myself more comfortable. i don’t know if this makes me a man or nonbinary by definition, but i don’t really care. i have a lot of dysphoria, but it’s lessened these days. it’s a lot better now that i dress and present in a way that makes me more comfortable. not wearing a binder and seeing my chest is very strange, but since i mostly wear baggy tshirts or hoodies when not wearing a binder, it’s not too bad. as long as i make the shirt extra baggy, i can avoid most dysphoria. sometimes my bad haircut or some outfits or seeing my body shape triggers strong dysphoria, but these days im far more comfortable.

that doesn’t mean that i was faking my previous everyday present dysphoria, it just means i’ve taken measures to lessen it. it’s like my anxiety. even if i’m handling my anxiety a lot better these days and not having anxiety attacks every other day, that doesn’t mean i don’t still have anxiety. it just means that i am dealing with it and making myself more comfortable. i don’t have to be constantly suffering to be valid and respected. i don’t want to be constantly suffering. i’m still scared, but not as scared. maybe my anxiety will come back strong about this soon, but for now i feel okay. i feel content. i can just be me. i don’t have to see being trans as a huge life-changing thing, even though it has been. i’m just taking steps to be more comfortable with myself and that makes things less scary.

for me, the concept of “transitioning into a man” is frightening and foreign, because it implies i’m transitioning into something that i’m not, that i’m becoming someone else. that’s not the case. i’m just becoming a version of myself that i’m more comfortable with and asking people to treat me in a way that makes me feel like me. it really feels like a weight has lifted off of me since my session yesterday and it feels amazing. it feels great. i’m just being myself. even if i feel like a fraud sometimes or that i haven’t “deserved” to be gendered correctly, i just have to tell myself that that’s not true. i’m just me. i’m just seb. and i don’t have to earn the right to be comfortable with that.

#personal stuff #gender issues #dysphoria #block of text #okay that was really long but i had to get that out of my system #now i can focus on particle physics as much as i dont want to!#anyway this was cathartic and i can't believe one simple session helped this much with my state of mind

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ohmytheon · 6 years

Text

Two Souls (bnha daemon au, 6/7)

title: two souls

summary: There is nothing more special than the bond between a person and their daemon, but some people are inexplicably drawn to other daemons as well. Ochako wants to prove to the world that she and her daemon are capable of becoming heroes while Katsuki and his daemon are ready to take it on. What neither of them counts on is that same world pulling them together, creating a bond stronger than anything thought possible.

notes: How much do I love writing Kaminari and his platypus daemon? A lot.

Notes on daemons Katsuki Bakugou: Eurasian Wolf - Mako Ochako Uraraka: Asian Golden Cat - Hayato

Day Six: Kings and Queens

“There’s something different about you, something I can’t put my finger on.”

The last thing Katsuki needed was Kirishima in his face at eight in the morning, but here they were, him sitting patiently in his desk while the redhead peered at him closely. Katsuki didn’t deign to give him a response and Mako yawned as if they hadn’t been up since 5:30 a.m. and gone for their morning run.

In between their desks, Kazumi prodded Mako, who merely laid her head down. Kirishima’s daemon had never been afraid of Mako, even when she should’ve been. Kazumi was just as fearless and hardheaded as her human, but she was a good soul. It did help that she could roll up in a protective ball that not even Mako’s powerful jaws could break easily. The fact that she was not easily hurt was one of her selling points. Mako loved it when another daemon put up a fight, just as much as she loved it when daemons quivered before her. They both did.

“Maybe it’s not him,” Kazumi suggested. “Mako seems different too.”

Kirishima tapped a finger on his chin. “You’ve been like this for two weeks, ever since that rescue mission during our last internships.”

“Wasn’t aware of it,” Katsuki finally said as Aizawa stepped into the classroom. His daemon was tucked into his scarf on his shoulder like normal, only her head and long tail poking out. It had taken two years before anyone had learned her name, even though she had barked and howled at all their daemons for holding their humans back. And people thought that Aizawa was the distant and harsh one.

Kaminari leaned in his seat on the back two legs. “You didn’t hear, Kirishima?”

That caught Kirishima’s interest immediately. “Didn’t hear what?”

The second Katsuki met Kaminari’s eyes, he knew. Somehow or another, that blonde little shit knew. No one else in their class had been around to see what had happened. Out of politeness and because it had been a huge taboo, Uraraka hadn’t told any of her friends either. He thought she might’ve felt guilty or ashamed, even though her action had saved his and Mako’s life, even though he wouldn’t trade what he’d felt for anything. It could’ve been awful. It could’ve been so revolting that it would’ve made him sick.

Instead Katsuki couldn’t remember ever feeling more connected with someone and alive.

“Don’t,” Mako warned, not moving from her spot or even opening her eyes.

Kaminari’s daemon had a little more sense than him, but even Hikaru had a bad habit of prodding Mako. The worst part was that she could get away with it most of the time. The last time Mako had snapped at her during a combat exercise, Hikaru had stabbed her with her ankle spurs and, shit, had that been painful for the both of them. Mako had howled for what felt like an entire hour as the venom worked through her system while Hikaru and Kaminari apologized profusely. Ever since then though, Mako had kept her attitude to a minimum.

Kazumi cleared her throat and stared right at Mako. “Uraraka touched Bakugou’s daemon.”

The tentative peace was shattered as Kirishima and Kazumi simultaneously exclaimed, “Are you shitting me!”

Katsuki clenched his hands into fists on top of his desk. “I’m not fucking talking about it.”

“Bro,” Kirishima said, much more tentatively, even being so bold as to put a hand on his shoulder, “that’s a big fucking deal.”

Of course it was. Katsuki didn’t need to be told that. He knew that. Mako knew that. Everyone knew that. You didn’t touch another person’s daemon. Not even villains did that with their victims unless they were truly a sick fuck. It was against the very nature of the world. People only touched another person’s daemon if they were extremely close lovers or something even deeper than that. Had his parents touched each other’s daemons? He didn’t know. He didn’t fucking know.

“You need to talk about it,” Kazumi added gently.

“I don’t need to do shit,” Katsuki growled.

Even without opening her eyes, it was as if Mako could sense the armadillo daemon opening her mouth to argue and coldly cut in, “You heard him.”

It was enough to silence the other daemon, who glanced at her human and then rolled into a ball that Kirishima could tuck into his lap. Contrary to what others might think, the action didn’t mean that Kazumi had her feelings hurt; it meant that she was pissed. Mako worked at her jaw, trying to work out a strain. It was a subtle move, but enough to make even Hikaru shift uncomfortably.

However, when Katsuki glanced to the front of the class, he made the accidental mistake of catching eyes with Uraraka, who immediately blushed and looked away. In response, despite hating every second of it and being far too old for some silly bullshit, his cheeks flushed too. The thought of how it had felt when she’d touched his soul popped into his head and he nearly broke his pencil just thinking about how much he wanted it again.

“You know, it’s okay to admit that it affected you,” Kirishima told him in a low voice as Aizawa started class.

“Who says it did?” Katsuki demanded, not looking back at him.

Kirishima chuckled under his breath and even Kazumi tutted from her ball. “Hey, Ground Zero aside, you’ll always be King Explodo Murder in this class. But what’s a king without his queen?”

Katsuki was definitely not going to answer that and, at least this time, Kirishima knew better than to push it. They both got absorbed in the class, although Mako’s clear disinterest kept distracting him. He willed at her to give a shit about the class, but she absolutely refused. It was frustrating. Her distraction was causing him to be distracted and he didn’t like it.

Talk to her, Mako told him.

No.

Why not?

The Katsuki of the past would’ve nudged her and said that there was no point. He couldn’t do that now, not when he knew it would’ve been a lie. More than anything in the world, he wanted to talk to her. He wanted to pull her aside. He wanted to hold her. He wanted to kiss her. He wanted everything about her. It had to be a consequence of her holding his soul, some sort of residue, but deep down, he knew that wasn’t it. He’d wanted these things for a long time, but he’d been holding back and lying to himself. It wasn’t like him to lie.

It wasn’t until Ochako was wrapping up at the gym did Bakugou show up that night. He hadn’t been coming since the daemon incident and she could understand why. He didn’t want to be around her. She’d broken the ultimate taboo and it had made things incredibly awkward between them. She knew that he wasn’t mad at her. Mako had said he wouldn’t be and she trusted her to know how he’d feel. During the years that she’d come to know Bakugou, she had learned that his daemon was as bluntly honest as he was.

Still, things had been unsettled between them since then. Hayato had noted it immediately. He had implored her to speak with Bakugou, but she couldn’t. She felt so ashamed. It was supposed to be something incredibly special between two people that fiercely loved one another to touch each other’s daemons and she had robbed him of that. Yes, it had been to save him, but that wasn’t the point. She’d committed a serious taboo in order to keep him alive. It was worth it, but there had been a cost.

Now, staring at Bakugou in the Gamma Gym, Ochako wasn’t sure that she could afford it. She tightened her grip on her gym bag and muttered, “I was just leaving.”

She took two steps, determined to barrel through and never look back, when Bakugou cut in with a simple, “Wait,” and she froze on the spot. Hayato hadn’t even moved from his position on the bench, the little traitor, and Mako walked around the edge of her in a way that made Uraraka want to shiver.

Not unpleasantly though. It was impossible to deny now -- how much she yearned to touch the wolf daemon again. It had been a feeling unlike anything else.

Ochako swallowed. “Bakugou, I-” She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I never apologized - for what I did. It must have unsettled you and I’m sorry, but-”

“I’m not sorry.”

Her eyes snapped open and she gasped when she found Bakugou standing right in front of her. My god, he’d been quick and silent. He must have been working on his stealth skills. Having him so close took her breath away as she gazed up at him. There were a hundred things she wanted to say to him, but she couldn’t get a single one out of her mouth. All she could do was stare up at him as he gazed down at her with an intense look in his eyes.

“You’re...you’re not?” Ochako finally managed.

Bakugou licked his lips, as if his entire mouth had gone dry from what he wanted to say. It drew her attention though and made things that much worse. She pulled her eyes back up to his, but the damage had been done. He knew exactly where her mind had gone and a smirk twitched onto his face because of it, which made her scowl a little. There was no need for him to get cocky.

“I’d be dead if you hadn’t saved Mako,” Bakugou told her, straightforward as always. “There’s no arguing that.”

“I know, but still-”

“I don’t regret it,” Bakugou interrupted. “Do you?

Ochako stared into his eyes and then, despite everything in her screaming to deflect, she whispered, “No.”

A smirk pulled its way onto Bakugou’s face and he said, “Then I’m not going to regret this,” before cupping her face in his calloused hands and leaning down to press his lips against hers. Automatically, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer so that his chest was snug against hers as they kissed. Lights burst inside of her, similar to when she had touched Mako for the first time, but he only pressed against her closer.

It had to have been a few minutes before they pulled away, both of them gasping for air, but she didn’t care. She could have kissed him for half the night in the gym if both of them hadn’t known that Todoroki came in after them and while he might not say anything, his Shizuka sure as hell would. She’d proven to have a very sardonic personality upon opening up. Ochako snuggled against Bakugou’s chest, letting him wrap his arms around her, and she peered over to see Hayato rubbing against Mako’s legs in a pleased way while the wolf rubbed her snout against Hayato’s side. It was such an obvious sign of affection that it brought tears to Ochako’s eyes.

“You gonna cry?” Bakugou asked in a low voice.

Ochako laughed, a little hysterical, but then clung to him and pressed a kiss against his chest where his heart would be, causing him to take a shuddering breath. “I’m just happy, is all.”

“We’re happy too!” Mako called out from the side of the room and Ochako laughed. Leave it to Bakugou’s daemon to speak the words that he couldn’t. He seemed to know that just as well as he growled irritably and then buried his face into the crook of her neck. He was happy too. She couldn’t ask for anything better or more.

#katsuki bakugou #ochako uraraka #bnha #kacchakopositivityweek #kacchako #ejirou kirishima #denki kaminari #bakuraraka #bnha daemon au #daemon au #daemons #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha fanfiction #the things of songs

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okayyeli · 6 years

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oh, baby! | jjk (07)

pairing: reader x jjk

genre: fluff, angst, humour, ceo au

summary: a social media interactive au where a hypothetical situation sets you on a highly illegal quest to help out a friend.

parts: one ★ two ★ three ★ four ★ five ★ six ★ seven ★

+ + +

jungkook isn’t coping well.

He knows this, yet every single time he remembers what he’s done, he panics. It surges through him like wildfire, the severity of the situation, the consequences, the future and oh god, what if his father finds out?

His grip on the vodka bottle tightens as he brings it to his mouth and downs a bit more, tilting his head back as the rush electrifies him, slowing his racing thoughts a tad more.

“You’re going to poison yourself at this rate, Kook, slow down.” The younger looks up at the source of sound, eyes zeroing in on Jimin, the older staring down at him with a frown. “I’m serious man,” he grabs the bottle from Jungkook, ignoring his groan of protest, “you have to deal with this like the adult you are.”

“I got a woman pregnant, Jimin,” he slurs, “and I’m twenty-fucking-two. I don’t know how to deal with this like an adult.”

“Well, for starters,” Jimin places the bottle on his end of the table as he takes a seat opposite Jungkook, “consider some options. You could just pay child support and distance yourself, you could pay her off with some silence money, you could even ask her if she wants to keep the child—”

“Absolutely not!” Jungkook is pointing at Jimin’s left temple, but his tone is firm. “I am n-not going to force her into abortion.”

“I wasn’t suggesting that, I’m saying you should ask her what her take on all of this is. She’s young too, I doubt she’s ecstatic about being a mother. This concerns the both of you, especially given you’re reputable people. You bolted when you found out, which is making you looking pretty shitty cause it’s been a week. Talk it out. Start there.”

“I’m not ready to be a father,” the younger wails, “why can’t I just keep it in my pants? Stupid, s-stupid me! I’m so weak for women!” He falls on his back, the soft, plush cushions of the sofa decreasing the impact as they mould to his frame. “I’m doomed.”

“Alright, I’ve had enough of this pity party. Where’s your phone?” Jungkook pulls out his phone, obediently handing it to Jimin with an expression akin to that of a scolded puppy. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Yeah, I won’t,” Jimin scoffs, “you should’ve followed that advice at the party, you idiot. Okay, now shut up, I’m going to make a call.” The taller hums in response, murmuring incoherent nonsense to himself as Jimin dials your number.

You answer on the fourth ring, voice a little breathless as you say, “Hello? Jungkook?”

“Actually, this is his best friend, Jimin.” Under his breath, he adds, “I’m basically a glorified goddamn assistant.”

“Hi, Jimin,” you sound slightly alarmed, “is everything alright?”

“Yes, yes, Miss Miller, everything’s peachy. I’m calling you on Jungkook’s behalf, he’s been booked all week and hasn’t had a chance to contact you, I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s alright, I understand it’s rather difficult to process. I’ve been struggling myself. Is he busy at the moment?”

“Yes,” Jimin answers quickly, “yes, he’s meeting with his father. At midnight. It’s their thing.”

“Oh, did he tell him—”

“Absolutely not, Miss Miller, he wouldn’t dare. Anyway, I know it’s rather late, I only called to arrange a meeting. Are you free this coming Tuesday, around eight p.m for dinner? The two of you have a lot to discuss.”

At this, Jungkook begins to vocalize his protests rather loudly, to which Jimin shoots him a glare and places his palm atop his face to silence him, forcefully shoving his head into a cushion.

“What was that?”

“Nothing! That was nothing, your answer?”

You clear your throat, voice breaking as you say, “Yeah I, I can make it. The Ruby Grill again?”

“No.” He quickly mutters, “I doubt he’s ever going back there again.” He says to you, “No, not the Ruby Grill. I’ll have him text you the details by Sunday. I hope you two figure this out and come to a reasonable compromise, Miss Miller. Sorry to have disturbed you, good night! Sweet dreams!”

He hangs up and removes his palm from Jungkook’s face as the younger had begun to lick him in an attempt to free himself.

“Why are you so annoyingly unhinged when you’re drunk?” He groans, wiping his hand down his pants as he grabs a cushion and smacks Jungkook with it. “You brat, why am I doing all of this for you?”

“I can’t go home!” Jungkook pouts, “Pa will murder me if he f-finds out.”

“Yes well, you’re making a mess out of my sofas, so get your ass up to the guest bedroom. I’ve left you some pills and water for you, you’ve got nothing to worry about. Get some rest. You’ve got one hell of a storm to battle through.”

“I’m scared, Minnie,” the younger whispers, doe eyes glossy, “I’m scared I’ll fuck this up.”

“There’s no way not to fuck this up, buddy,” Jimin smiles, “the important thing is that you handle it privately and quickly. Whatever you decide to do, I’ll support you. Just, just don’t make this anymore difficult, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Good. Now, go to bed. I’ll figure out where you’ll meet her on Tuesday.”

As Jungkook gets to his feet, he shoots Jimin a lazy smile. “You’re, you’re the best, Jimin.” And then he’s trudging his way upstairs to the guest bedroom.

“I know I am.” Jimin sighs, rearranging the cushions as he pulls out his laptop. “The things I do for you, honestly.”

+ + +

You’re sick.

It isn’t the occasional cough or sneeze, you are bed-ridden, highly feverish and nauseous, and it’s a Friday night. Irene had offered to come over and take care of you and you fiercely refused, afraid you’d spread it to her and cause problems with her pregnancy.

A part of you is slightly regretting that choice, because now you’re painfully ill, lying in bed alone and onto the third season of Brooklyn Nine-Nine, though you suppose the show is the only positive aspect of your day.

Because everything else sucks.

Your throat is dry and hoarse from coughing, nose stuffed and easily irritable, causing you to tear up every other minute. Which means of course, your left eye is swollen from constantly tearing up; to top it all off, your body temperature has you believing you’ve entered the seventh circle of hell. But hey, at least the migraine’s died down.

“I’m a sad, sad person.” You whisper, coughing a little as you reach for your glass of water.

You have no idea if you’ll get better in time for your meeting with Jungkook on Tuesday, especially considering it’s only three days away. The thought of it makes you writhe with anxiety, because you know it’s going to consist of discussing your next move. There’s a looming, imminent fear of him wanting a paternity test carried out that has you sweating, a) considering you are deathly afraid of needles and b) because you are not pregnant and hence the paternity test won’t work.

Hey, maybe this fever will take you before you have a chance to dig yourself in further! Maybe by the time you’re found, you’ll already be explaining yourself to the devil himself because there’s no way you’re ever going to see the light after executing something so absurdly extreme.

You’re just about to shut the T.V off and take a nap to silence your thoughts when your phone rings, startling you slightly. Gingerly, you reach over and pluck the device from your bedside table and answer without checking the caller ID, assuming it’s Irene checking up on you.

It’s obviously not Irene.

“Hey, I’m doing better now, don’t worry—”

“You’re sick?”

You freeze. That voice, it’s definitely too deep for Irene’s timbre. Nah, nah it can’t be, surely your luck isn’t so fucked that—

“Hello? Are you okay?”

—of course it fucking is.

“Hi, Jungkook!” You try your best to brighten up your voice, but find it extremely difficult when a familiar irritation begins to ring at the back of your throat.

“Hey, hey, you don’t sound so good. You’re sick, aren’t you?”

The cough you’re struggling to hold back forces its way out, leaving you to sigh in defeat. “Yes,” you admit in defeat, “yes I’m sick.”

“And you’ve got someone taking care of you, right? I’ll drop by to get you some medicines, you’ll be alright—”

“No, Jungkook,” you counter softly, “I can't take any medication, remember? I also can’t risk spreading it to people, so I’m alone. I just need to sleep through it, I’ll be okay soon enough.”

“You’re, you’re alone?” His tone is one of pure shock, to which you raise an eyebrow. “Yes, because I can’t risk spreading it to someone else, I—”

“I’m coming over.”

“Wait, what?”

“You live close by anyway, right? I’ll bring some stuff over and help you out. I’ve got a strong immune system, so I’ll be fine.” You immediately panic, scrambling to find some kind of excuse to keep him away. “No! No, there’s absolutely no need to come over, Kook, listen to me, I’m fine! I can handle it, seriously, don’t risk it.”

“I promise I’ll be a good nurse, trust me. It’s just not wise for you to be alone. Besides, if do end up catching it, I can heal quickly because I can take medication. Let me help you, I just—I just kind of don’t like that you can’t use anything to speed up your recovery process. Plus, I’ll be good company too!”

Okay, well, fuck.

He’s got you backed into a corner, albeit unintentionally. The more you refuse him, the more he’ll insist, and eventually, he’s going to get suspicious. And hey, if you decide to come clean while there’s still an inkling of a chance, maybe he’ll go soft on you because you’re sick!

Yeah, you definitely need to sleep.

“Okay,” you finally reply, hearing him hum in glee, “okay, fine. You know the complex, right? I’m on the twenty-second floor, apartment two-two zero one. I’ll buzz you in.”

“Great, I’ll be there in five.”

He hangs up shortly after, leaving you to lie in bed with a groan, wondering why the universe is so hellbent on punishing you when you’re sure a fate much worse awaits you at the end of this ride.

+ + +

“Okay, so, make sure she’s drinking hot soups, and some easily digestible solids if she’s feeling up to it. Keep her hydrated at all times, and help regulate her body temperature. She’s bound to have bouts of chills and then feel hot, so keep some extra blankets and a cold compress nearby. Also, make sure you’re constantly sanitizing yourself to decrease chances of you catching it. If she’s not getting any better by Sunday, I’ll come over to check if everything’s okay.”

“Thank you,” Jungkook exhales in relief, “thank you, you’re the best!”

“Yeah well, you kind of have to be if you want a medical degree,” Seokjin chuckles, “just make sure she’s comfortable, alright? You can explain why you’re so concerned about this woman later.”

It’s because she’s pregnant, Jungkook wants to say, and I’m fucking terrified.

Instead, he says, “Yeah, I will. I’ll keep you updated through text, alright? Get back to me when you can.”

“Sure, my shift ends early today, so I’ll get back to you on time. Good luck, and remember to sanitize.”

“Yeah, Dad, I got it.” Jungkook rolls his eyes as Jin begins to chide him for being disrespectful when he was ‘saving his ass’ and being ‘generous enough to give him advice’ and that he could ‘potentially kill this woman if he didn’t have the right knowledge’ and finally that ‘he was going to beat his ass if he called him dad’.

Finally, as he’s pulling into his parking spot, Jungkook manages to get off the phone with Jin, laughing to himself as he does so. His friend had always had a dramatic flair, and loved to bicker every chance he got.

However, Seokjin was one of the most renowned doctors in the medial field, and Jungkook trusted him with his life. The older man had spent years on his passion and he was amazing at it, making him the pride of his family.

And it was through him that Jungkook had met Hoseok and Yoongi, the hand-in-hand pair of cheery and composed, energetic and calm. He smiles at the memory of the two together, always in sync and seeming to share one mind when it came to their work.

“Who are you off to see, sir?”

He gives the receptionist a bright smile, silently admiring the sleek look of the complex you lived in. He gives the man at the desk your name, then signs his own on the guestbook and makes his way up, pulling his phone out to text you as the elevator surges upward.

It’s only as he's walking down the hallway towards your apartment that you respond, telling him you’ll buzz him in once he rings the bell. Jungkook notices that there are only a maximum of four apartments on this floor, and he immediately realizes you live in a penthouse.

The complex is close by to where he lives, so it’s on the wealthier side of the city, although not too close to the private estates. He gathers you must be one hell of a consultant as he rings the doorbell, hearing a whirring sound seconds later as a ding sounds and the door unlocks.

He enters slowly, immediately finding himself drawn to the advanced technology of the place, The door locks automatically behind him, the small screen above the handle now blaring red. The lights turn on as he moves, removing his shoes.

Jungkook hears you faintly calling for him, and follows the sound of your voice, silently marveling the place as he does so. It’s a mix of modern, minimalist and urban, with lots of small decorative pieces and abstract paintings adorning the walls, either mounted or atop shelves. He thinks it’s so you, and that you’ve got great taste.

When he enters your bedroom, he’s surprised at how similar it’s laid out to his own. There’s a queen sized bed at the center, with floor to ceiling windows to your right. As he walks further in, he sees a mahogany desk on the left side, papers strewn atop beside a rose gold MacBook.

The last thing he registers before shifting his attention to you is how cold the room is. He remembers Seokjin telling him that your body temperature was bound to fluctuate and only speaks to you after increasing the temperature on the thermostat.

“You’re going to make it worse by keeping your room so cold, you know.” He pulls your desk chair beside your bed to take a seat, fixing you with a warm gaze. “How did you even manage by yourself for so long?”

“I just kept telling myself it was a couple more steps,” you reply hoarsely, “and it kinda worked.” He smiles, shaking his head. “It’s great that you’re so independent, _______, but it’s okay to ask for help sometimes.”

“I told you,” your tone is whiny, “I couldn’t—I couldn’t risk spreading it to someone else. You didn’t have to come here.”

“But I’ve done this before,” he gives you a teasing smile, “remember? You were always prone to intense colds during winter, and I was always the one who took care of you.”

At the memory, you manage a weak smile. It’s so vague to you, the only thing coming to your mind is Jungkook sitting by you with a cold compress, keeping you engaged in conversation until you slept.

“I guess h-history is repeating itself, hm?” You clear your throat, shifting away a little and patting the space beside you. “Might as well sit next to me then.” He playfully cocks an eyebrow at this, saying, “Wow, weren’t you against me falling sick too?”

“I’ve warned you several times,” you shrug, “if anything happens it’s on you and I’m definitely gonna tell you I told you so. Plus, I could use the body warmth, it is starting to get pretty cold in here.”

He laughs in response and obliges, sitting upright beside you as he adds, “Looks like I’m going to be the one who gets to say ‘I told you so’ first. I told you so!”

“Shut up!” You smack him lightly as you too follow suit and sit upright beside him. The chill hits you almost immediately and you tug the second blanket you kept underneath up to your chin, shivering slightly.

There’s a moment of silence, wherein Jungkook’s expression slowly grows solemn as he remembers your last interaction. He’d panicked and bolted the second the check had been covered.

And then he’d left you with no response for a week.

“Hey,” his voice is soft, “I’m sorry I reacted so harshly. I pretty much scrambled to get out of there and I kept you waiting for a whole week. It’s not an excuse, I promise, I just needed to process and cope and I wasn’t really doing either of those very well. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have acted the way I did.”

“It’s okay, Kook. It’s a lot to take in. I understand, and I forgive you.” You smile up at him, and Jungkook can see you at twelve, when you were a few inches taller, smiling down at him the exact same way. Your eyes crinkle slightly at the corners just the same and that’s how he knows you’re being sincere.

“Thank you. I promise moving forward, I’m going to be as mature and level-headed as possible.”

“You’re not going to tell me I should get rid of it?”

“No. Never. That is up to you and it will always be. This was a two-person job, and I refuse to make it so that one person carries the full weight of it. I will never, ever pressure you into anything you aren’t comfortable with. You have my word.”

You stay silent for a moment, fighting back the guilt rising within you. Here you have the kindest and most understanding man sitting beside you, telling you he’s ready to support whatever decision you make with a non-existent baby.

And he’d also asked for your forgiveness, which you had no right to give in the first place. You know for certain if the roles were reversed and you’d found out the truth, you’d never be able to forgive someone for manipulating you that way.

The way you’re manipulating him.

“_______, hey, hey,” Jungkook turns his head fully to face you, expression one of concern. “Please don’t think about it right now. Neither of us are ready to dive into the technicalities, and it’s hardly the time either. We’ll cross that bridge when we’re ready, okay? One thing’s for sure, you aren’t going to go through this alone.”

The guilt is getting stronger now, chest tight as you lower your head, too weak to meet his gaze. You really don’t deserve any of this, his concern, patience and kindness. You know it, but he doesn’t, and it makes it all so much more painful.

Sensing your sinking mood, Jungkook grabs the remote beside you and says, “Okay, let’s continue watching whatever it is you were wa—Brooklyn Nine-Nine? It’s my favourite show! Yes, you’re on the The Audit!”

“I’m rewatching, it’s gonna be a long road to season six after all.” You manage a genuine smile, turning to face the T.V. “I love the Halloween episodes.”

“Who doesn’t? And, not to sound like an absolute fanatic but hey I am one—I can recite the whole monologue from The Box word for word.” Jungkook looks pretty smug, and so you turn to him with a raised eyebrow, stretching your hand out to select The Box from the list of episodes. “Those are bold words, Jeon. Prove it.”

“Forward to that part and I’ll do just that. That’s right,” he’s grinning, “I’m about to monologue, son.”

And you very quickly find, he does know the whole monologue word for word, even getting the inflection on each ‘oh damn!’ perfectly right. You then spend the next hour or two watching your favourite episodes, laughing and making commentary on the best parts.

You fall asleep at around one-thirty, at which point Jungkook slips out of your bed, taking a seat on your desk chair and draping a blanket over himself. He finds it’s pretty comfortable if he places a pillow on the right armrest and lies horizontally.

He knows you won’t mind if he shares your bed, but he truly cannot risk catching a fever so close to his scheduled hell Monday of board meetings. So he dozes in and out of sleep, catching you every single time you rouse to get something without his help. He helps you cool down with a cold compress when your body temperature flares, and tucks you in neatly when you begin to shiver. He’s tempted several times to get you some cough medicine, but he’s not sure what’s safe and what isn’t, so he settles for the lemon and ginger lozenges he finds in your drawer and hands them to you when the coughing gets bad during the night.

It’s around five forty-five a.m when he’s roused by you shifting in your sleep, murmuring something incoherent with your eyebrows furrowed. He shakes his head, trying to wake himself up as he registers your shifting getting more vigorous, your murmurings growing louder.

And he remembers—you’re a sleep talker.

“I’m sorry,” your voice is now a whisper, “I’m so sorry.”

He frowns. Are you having a nightmare? He’s been told that people should be allowed to sleep through nightmares, but he doubts it’s effective, considering how you seem pretty distressed.

“I’m sorry!” Your voice grows louder, breaking slightly at the end. “No, n-no don’t l-leave!”

Jungkook adjusts himself into a vertical position, sitting upright with the blanket around him as he leans forward, taking your outstretched hand in his own as he softly says, “Shh, it’s okay, no one’s leaving. _________? If you can hear me, it’s Jungkook. I’m sitting right here. No one’s leaving, alright? You don’t need to apologize either.”

“I’m sorry.” Is all you say in response.

“You don’t have to be, sweetheart,” he coos, “there’s nothing you need to apologize for.”

Your shoulders begin to relax.

“Good, there we go, that’s it. You can hear me, hm? I’m right here. No one’s leaving you, ________, no one. I’m here. I promise I’m here.” He continues this way, until you’re fully relaxed, breathing no longer erratic and panicked, but slow and drawn out. With a sigh, Jungkook leans back against chair, hand still holding your own as his voice slips into decrescendo.

“I’m...not...leaving.”

When you woke up later that morning, amidst the residual fear from a nightmare you couldn’t recall, you feel the slightest, strangest feeling of comfort, stemming from a distant voice promising you it wasn’t leaving.

#phew!#sorry this came out a little later!#I kind of hit a rut midway thru and needed to take a break lmao #n e ways #bts #bangtan #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts fanfic #jeon jungkook #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook fanfic #bts text au #bts ceo au #jungkook texts #jungkook x reader

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evilblot · 6 years

Text

Questions for your OCs

Got tagged by @bluenightfire so here it is, starring Oliver Veenstra and Greg Madsen (aka the odd speech mannerism duo):

1. What’s the maximum amount of time you can sit still with nothing to do?

O: Methinks not more than ten minutes then I has't to findeth something to doth, otherwise mine mind starts to wander in places whither it's best not to wend… 《 nervous giggle 》

2. How easy is it for you to laugh?

G: Being a child at heart and walking ticklish spot makes Greg what has been defined as a “Laughter Disaster”.

3. How do you get yourself to sleep at night?

O: It depends on how not restful I am. If 't be true I doth not collapse in sleep chamber at unreasonable times, I usually taketh time to relax by writing music or reading something. Or I masturbate. Or the three of them and not necessarily in that order.

4. How easy is it to earn your trust?

G: Greg tend to trust people easily but Greg ain’t naive about it. Like what they say, fool Greg once shame on you, fool Greg twice shame on Greg, fool Greg three times and congratulation you’re an asshole.

5. What were you told to stop/start doing most often as a child?

O: Mine mother at each moment toldeth me that I hadst to cease trying to completely replace mine father, not because the lady didst not appreciate that I hadst becometh the backbone of the family but rather because she wanted me to giveth priority to myself once in a while...

6. Do you swear? Do you remember your first swear word?

G: Sometimes, but Greg try not to. About Greg’s first swearing it could have been calling one of Greg’s classmates from elementary school an asshat. But in Greg’s defense Greg thought it was just a very silly headgear.

7. How do you cope with confusion?

O: I tryeth to worketh through mine thoughts, like considering mine assumptions and thinking about the consequence to avoid jumping into conclusions. What I still doth since lest I an emotional roller coaster but at least I tryeth.

8. Do you have a system of remembering names, long lists of numbers, things that need to go in a certain order?

G: Well, mentally placing things on top of each other often helps. Alternatively, sticky-notes strategically placed around the house are a blessing.

9. How do you deal with an itch found in a place you can’t quite reach?

O: Being rather flexible the problem doest not arise. Unless tis in the presence of the right person, in that case I’d shamelessly pretend I can’t reacheth and taketh advantage of ‘t to receiveth a free back rubbeth, if 't be true thee understandeth what I mean… 《 insert sensual brow wiggle here 》

10. What colour do you look best in? (Does he/she actually look best in that colour?)

G: Dunno, it’s not like Greg mind that much… (Surprisingly he looks handsome in pink, especially in rose quartz)

11. What animal do you fear most?

O: Lest I not afraid of any animal in particular, if 't be true I’d rather sayeth that I feeleth an intense disgust for slugs.

12. How do you speak? Is what you say usually thought of on the spot, or do you rehearse it in your mind first?

G: Greg don’t mince words, in fact Greg like to think Greg be a quite plainspoken man.

13. What makes your stomach turn?

O: Senseless violence. Thus having becometh the progenitor of a race of murderers without mine knowledge hath taken quite a toll on me.

14. Are you easily embarrassed?

G: Not really, indeed usually it’s up to Silvia to get embarrassed in Greg’s place lol. (I can confirm)

15. What embarrasses you?

O: Faux pas. And oft coequal myself.

16. What is your favourite number?

G: 8 because it’s shaped like a friend. Like Greg. (he makes me so cheesy wtf 😂)

17. If you were asked to explain the difference between romantic and platonic love, how would you do so?

O: I suppose I can summarize ‘t in platonic love is ride or kicketh the bucket while romantic love is till death doth thee part.

18. Why do you get up in the morning?

G: Uh….. Do you take hunger for an answer?

O: Valid. 🙌

19. How does jealousy manifest itself in you?

O: At first feelings of insecurity, possessiveness and inadequacy, but this is just the tip of the iceberg. Thee doth not wanteth to knoweth what kind of monster I becometh at which hour ‘t cometh to matters of the heart...

20. How does envy manifest itself in you?

G: Well, Greg simply ignore the thing but then Greg will inevitably get passive aggressive. Then Greg will imitate the person Greg envy in some way, either by the way they behave or dress. Maybe even do both. It depends on the individual...

21. Is sex something you’re comfortable speaking about?

O: I believeth that the answer lies in the question previously madeth concerning mine methods of sleeping.

22. What are your thoughts on marriage?

G: Greg believe in marriage, actually Greg think tying the knot is one of the biggest milestones of your life. Sure, it takes times and a lot of commitment but in the end it’s totally worth it.

23. What is your preferred mode of transportation?

O: I most like riding on horseback, but I’d not sayeth no to a boat trippeth especially if 't be true it's on longships.

24. What causes you to feel dread?

G: The future.

25. Who do you most regret meeting?

O: I would like to sayeth Zarok but I realize that if 't be true I hadst not hath followed that gent to Gallowmere I would nev'r has't hath met Lord Kardok nor the love of life, so I in earnest would not knoweth.

26. Who are you most glad to have met?

G: Greg’s naughty pie, of course. (Save meee 🙈)

27. Do you have a go-to story in conversation? Or a joke?

O: Not that I can bethink of ‘t, fear me.

28. Could you be considered lazy?

G: Greg'd rather say Greg be in energy saving mode.

29. Do you actively seek romance, or do you wait for it to fall in your lap?

O: I hath used to beest a very quiver romance seeker but then true love sooth hath fallen into mine lap so I guess that's ‘t. ‘t doesn't matter what thee doth because in the end love wilt findeth a way itself.

30. What memory do you revisit the most often?

G: When Greg met Silvia for the first time because Greg often wonder what Greg life would have been like if Silvia had not ended up mistakenly in the penitentiary where Greg was locked up and had not dragged Greg out of there… 《 shudders 》

31. How easy is it for you to ignore flaws in other people?

O: I mean, I tryeth to since lest I a stout believer that tis well enow not to beest perfect. But, at the same time, methinks thither is at each moment room for improvement so I point ‘t out without offending the person concerned so that maybe we can worketh ‘t out together.

32. How sensitive are you to your own flaws?

G: Incredible to say but Greg is a delicate soul that takes a lot personally. In plain words Greg be very sensitive, please be gentle.

33. How do you feel about children?

O: I love children, being the eldest brother among other 6 children I has't practically grown those folk and I doth not bethink thither is anything better than to beest in their company. Sure, oft those gents art noisy and clingy but at which hour thee cometh home at the end of the day and thee findeth yourself sooth submerged by their exuberant attachment well, then thee understandeth that those gents very much art the most precious thing ever.

34. How badly do you want to reach your end goal?

G: In case you haven’t noticed yet, Greg prefer to take things calmly so Greg can wait.

35. If someone asked you to explain your sexuality, how would you do so?

O: Well, lest I a sir I like women, there's not much else to sayeth methinks..?

Aaand that’s it, thanks for your time. I won’t tag anyone but feel free to do it with your OCs too if you fancy to.

#oc questions #summoned #atrocity #oliver veenstra #greg madsen #sorry it took so long but i'm never ready to do this kind of stuff lmao

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