#but it does make me sad. i know ive got it way easier than many trans ppl but ya know. shits rough sometimes

[honney-pies]

Ma Cherie ❤︎

Chapter iv: Bona fide

Pairing: Inuokku/ F! Reader

Summary: Sometimes it’s hard to bare the genuine, real parts of your soul, but the more you do, the easier it can be.

Content Warning: major character death, slight gore, ya girl really tried to be descriptive during a fight scene, use of blades, stabbing, ripping limbs off, etc., gay people, (y/n) having sad thoughts about life and people who have died, no-no words, spoilers for jjk season two, and jjk0, lmk if I’ve missed anything and I’ll add it!

Length: 5.5k

A/n: so this chapter mainly evolves around kanae and the tail end of jjk 0. I know it’s a lot shorter than the previous chapter, but their wasn’t a lot left to write lol. I wanted to end it on a happier note cause i need some fluff after the leaks cause wtf gege???? How could you do this to me???? And finally seeing Gojo’s episode in Shibuya (I won’t go into detail cause it only came out two days ago, but you know the one) has devastated me to my core and has left me in shambles. Also it has come to my attention that I’ve been spelling Yuta’s name wrong this whole time so I’m sorry. 😭Anyway, please enjoy!

Ma Cherie Master list

Bona Fide -genuine, real, to be in good faith

─── ⋆⋅ December 2017 ⋅⋆ ── 

When (Y/n) wakes up, she’s in a tangled mess of her lover, and future lover’s, limbs. She opened her eyes to see Satoru standing above her, bandages off as he smiles down at her. 

“C’mon, let’s get breakfast. Megumi-chan is waiting for us at the front,” he whispers. She reaches up and grasps his hand, but the boys’ arms are wrapped tightly around her. She huffs, but she still smiles.

“Gimme a sec, Toru-nii.” He looks down at the girl, a knowing smile on his lips before quietly leaving the room. (Y/n) continues to struggle as she tries to make her way out of the mess of bodies. However, neither boy lets her leave, their arms pulling her closer to their bodies. 

‘Shit, this is really nice.’

 “Toge, Yuta, I need to leave,” she whispers softly. Yuta grumbles before scooting closer to her. (Y/n) feels slightly annoyed at her family for making her leave such a cozy place, but she still knew Satoru wouldn’t have gotten her up if he didn’t need to be near her for his own peace of mind. 

When she finally made her way from her bed, she got to see Yuta and Inumaki tangle themselves together, she snapped a couple photos, some on her first phone where she held the people she cares about the most, on her current phone, and a polaroid. After Suguru left (Y/n) made it a point to take as many pictures as possible, in order to keep as many memories alive as possible.

‘ 12/20/17 - first sleepover together’  (Y/n) smiles softly as she wrote, before getting dressed and slipping out the door. She quickly made her way to the front of the school, spotting her little brother and her dad bickering.

“She doesn’t have two boyfriends, Gojo.”

“She does, Megumi, you need to get over it.” Megumi looks over and spots his older sister and begins walking over to her.

“Do you have two boyfriends, nee-san?” She shakes her head and laughs at Megumi’s victorious ‘ha.’

“No, but we’re slowly getting there.” Megumi whips his head around so fast, (Y/n) nearly got whiplash. 

“What?” She laughs again and reaches up and messes up his hair. He grumbles and swats at her hands. 

“How did you get two boyfriends before I even got one?” She smirks at the boy.

“I’m awesome, have an amazing personality, and I’m hot. Who wouldn’t want me, ‘gumi?” He groans and shoves her away. 

“Where do you want to go for breakfast, Megumi-chan?”  Megumi looks at Satoru and thinks before shrugging his shoulders. The three of them wander around before finding a small place to eat. It has been a couple weeks since they all went out and Megumi talks about the latest documentary he watched before getting up and going to the bathroom. Satoru uses this opportunity to turn to (Y/n).

“I don’t want you in Tokyo.” (Y/n) looks up at him, confused. 

“Chances are Suguru will be in Tokyo, I don’t want you seeing him like that. I’ve already made arrangements for Utahime to watch over you in Kyoto.” (Y/n) watches her dad’s face closely and notices a slight twitch. 

“You’re… you’re gonna kill him, aren’t you?” Satoru looks up at the ceiling, letting out a heavy sigh. He reaches out and grabs her hand, holding it tightly. 

“I don’t have a choice anymore, (Y/n). He’s… he’s hurt too many people, killed too many people. I’ve spent so many years waiting around for him to come back, but you and I both know he won’t. I don’t want you to see that.” (Y/n) frowns at him before kicking his shin to make him look at her.

“I have the right to see him. I have the right to say goodbye. No, I don’t want to see him die, but I at least want to be there to make sure he goes with the people he loves. I’ll go to Kyoto, but I’m going to be there to say bye. No one will take that away from me.” Satoru sighs loudly before nodding his head.

“Fine, but I still don’t think you should.” 

“I know, but I want to.” Megumi comes back to the booth and quickly notices the tense atmosphere. When he goes to question it, (Y/n) shakes her head.

“What do you want for your birthday ‘gumi?” He looks thoughtful for a moment before stating he wants more books. (Y/n) smiles and tells him she’ll make sure to get him some. 

“What do you want nee-san?” She ‘hmm’s before smiling brightly.

“Toru-nii to not give homework!” Satoru looks extremely offended at the very thoughtt.

“I never assign homework in general!” 

“Oh right, uh, well… I guess I don’t really know what I want.” Megumi groans in response. You see, (Y/n) has a lot of things she wants, but she chooses not to say what it is. It’s infuriating and it ends with Satoru closing down a mall and letting her run wild. Some may think that’s an unwise choice financially speaking, but it’s not as bad as when he let her get whatever she wanted from a book store. Now that was a taxing trip. 

Satoru makes sure to get them things on Christmas and on their birthdays and the two get spoiled endlessly, unfortunately some habits are a little tougher to break when it comes to asking for what you want or need. 

While the family began the walk back to school. Megumi was a little more talkative than normal, not that anyone was complaining. It was really nice to hear him be that free when it came to spending time with them, especially since he’s been extra quiet since Tsumiki was not an active member of the family for the time being.

When they were younger, Megumi had a harder time adjusting than Tsumiki. The two girls were close in age and got along rather easily. However, it took years for Megumi to open up and shortly before Tsumiki was cursed did he begin to call (Y/n) his older sister. 

─── ⋆⋅ March 2016 ⋅⋆ ─── 

Tsumiki and (Y/n) were both walking around their middle school to go bother, to check on Megumi. Before they could turn down the second year hall, some boys blocked the hall and began to get in their faces. 

“Wow look at this, some pretty girls came to say hello.”

“Wanna go out with me?” 

“I bet she’s a freak, the quiet ones always are.” The two girls have had to deal with these comments for years, but that didn’t mean they would tolerate it. 

“The fact you think you even have a chance with either of us makes me sick. Move.” The boys still didn’t budge.

“Oh~ I love them feisty! Keeps me interested.” (Y/n) then made her way in front of Tsumiki.

“I’m not asking, move.” One of them scoffed at her, rolling his eyes, “Or what?” (Y/n) went to shove her way past them, and maybe break their micropenis’, with Tsumiki, but before she could, the guy’s face was smashed into the wall with a very angry boy behind him. 

“Do you not have basic manners? When someone says no, or implies no, it means no. Go back to kindergarten if you’ve forgotten. And don’t you ever go near my sisters again, if you do I’ll tear you to shreds.” The three boys ran off, clearly embarrassed, as one of their noses bled. 

“Aw, ‘gumi!” The dark haired boy turned around. 

“What?” (Y/n) and Tsumiki giggled quietly.

“Megumi, you called us your sisters.” The poor boy turned red, becoming uncharacteristically shy. He quickly turned around, making his way back to class to finish his after school necessities. 

“Ya hear that Tsumi? I’ve officially become an older sister!” Tsumiki smiled.

“He’s thought of you as his sister for a while now.” (Y/n) hummed.

“I know, he’s been acting like I am. It just feels different now that he’s actually said it.” The two continued their walk to Megumi’s classroom, Tsumiki listening as (Y/n) told her all the latest gossip. 

─── ⋆⋅ December 2017 ⋅⋆ ─── 

(Y/n) and Satoru had just dropped Megumi off at home and are now making their way back to the school when (Y/n) grabs Satoru’s hand with her own, swinging it gently.

“Hey dad?” Satoru’s hand twitches slightly by his side as he turns his head towards her, letting out a small hum in acknowledgment.

“You know that I’ve pretty much always thought of you as my dad right? ‘Gumi does too.” Satoru smiles softly at her, giving her hand a small squeeze.

“I know. I’ve always thought of you as my kid… Megumi-chan and Tsumiki-chan too, but you’ll always be my first.” (Y/n) smiles widely before pulling Satoru into a hug. He chuckles and wraps his arms around her.

“Thank you for taking me in when you didn’t need to. When you get gross and old I’ll do the same for you.” Satoru gently shoves her away, gasping loudly. 

“How dare you? I’m never getting gross, I’ll be this hot forever!” The two laugh as they walk around in search of a good sweet shop, plans of returning long forgotten with the amazing, stunning, magnificent idea of eating junk food and gossiping. Although neither one really had anything to talk about, so they decided to make fun of the people walking by them when they pass a sunglasses shop. 

“No! You can’t come with me, that defeats the point of me getting anything! Wait, don't go yet, gimme your card first.” 

While (Y/n) walks around the shop she finds a nice pair of blackout sunglasses, rectangle purple frames she thinks would look good on Maki. As she made her way to the cashier, she notices an… interesting pair of sunglasses that she just knew she had to get.

‘If I don’t get them, the world just might end.’ (Y/n) grins so brightly as she walks out, Satoru just grabs the bags and doesn't try to peek at what was inside them. 

‘I’m such a great father.’ 

The two finally made the trek back to the school, deciding not to teleport in order to spend as much time together even though (Y/n) regretted that decision immensely about ten minutes into the walk. 

“Toru-nii, carry me,” she said, drawing out the ‘e’. 

“Nope.” (Y/n) groans loudly before pulling out her phone.

“Who’re you texting?” She positions her screen away from Satoru.

“No one.” Satoru then felt a buzz in his pocket.

‘Incoming call from Muscle Man’

“Ah, hel-”

“Satoru! Stop abusing the child! God Damn!” That was all that was said before Yaga promptly hung up. When Satoru looks over, (Y/n)’s trying her best to hold in her laughter before Satoru picks her up and begins to carry her. 

“I feel like I’m five again.” 

“You sure as hell don’t feel like it.” (Y/n) smacks him in the head. When (Y/n) and Satoru were younger, Satoru made a promise to himself that he wouldn’t use infinity when he was around her. Of course there are exceptions to this, like if they’re on a mission, or something like that. About fifteen minutes later (Y/n) got down and continues walking, although she nearly fell over when Satoru tried to jump on her back. 

“Satoru, no!”

“Satoru, yes!” 

(Y/n), for a short period of time at least, felt as if she was a normal teenager. That’s something Satoru has always worked hard to do for all his kids, students and family alike. 

“It’s unforgivable to steal the youth away from kids.” 

(Y/n) has always appreciated that about him. When they finally made it back, Nanami was waiting for them at the front of the school. The poor man had been sent to make sure Satoru attends more meetings. (Y/n) had been “trained” to start and prolong conversions for as long as possible if this were to happen.

“Hi, Nanamin! How are you today?” Nanami, who had only recently come back into (Y/n)’s life after years of trying to distance himself, has always had a sweet spot for the young girl. 

“I’m fine, how are you (Y/n)-kun?” (Y/n) then pointed at Satoru, who had somehow managed to carry an obscene amount of bags the whole way home.

“I went shopping and we found this really cute place for lunch. Are there more meetings you guys need to go to?” Nanami shook his head.

“Only Gojo-san. I’m done for the day.” Satoru groans before handing the bags to Nanami, telling him not to break anything. Satoru ruffles (Y/n)’s hair and drags his feet to the campus. 

“I hear you might be getting another boyfriend soon, the Okkotsu boy.” He watches as her cheeks turn a light shade of pink, letting him know that this was indeed the case. (Y/n) quickly turned on her heel and began speed walking to her dorm room. Nanami sighed and started to walk. He, the tall fucker he is, only had to speed up ever so slightly to keep up with her. 

“(Y/n), how are you doing?” Nanami once again watches in the corner of her eyes as she deflates. (Y/n) looks up at the sky. Seeing (Y/n) act like this made him remember how much, how long, Satoru’s raised her. The two are incredibly similar when it comes to their mannerisms, attitude, and ideology, but none of these similarities make them any less their own person.

“Do… Do you think that things would be for the better if ‘bara didn’t die? I mean I know they would, but just how different? Would you be happy? Would Toru-nii and Sugu-nii be happy? Would I be happy? Don’t get me wrong, I am, but it’s different. Seeing him again, after so many years hurt. I can only imagine what it was like for others, for Toru.” Nanami knew where the girl was coming from. He had seen how Suguru broke when Haibara died. He had seen the way he broke himself. 

Haibara was Nanami’s first love, and he thinks he’ll be his last as well. He remembered the feeling of his heart breaking, the feeling of his limp body, becoming a lifeless one in his arms. After his death, Nanami refused to go on missions, finished his education, and left the shaman world. He remembers the solemn look on (Y/n)’s face, even at the age of eight she understood why the recent graduate needed to leave. The two didn’t keep in touch all that well, Nanami only picking her up from school on the rare occasion Satoru couldn’t. Not too long ago Nanami had joined the shaman world again, and (Y/n) had welcomed him with open arms just as she had when she found out of Haibara’s death. 

Nanami can only imagine how many people she’s offered her comfort to after the death of a loved one, and he feels guilty for making her go through it continuously even though he’s not the direct cause. 

When the two finally reach her room, they hear soft voices on the other side.

“Do you know when she’ll be back?” 

“I know, I know, but I still feel like she might need or want some hugs or something!” Nanami, again, watches (Y/n) smile softly. Before she could open the door, Nanami quietly set down the bags and wrapped his arms around the girl. He may not see her as a daughter, or a sister, but he still cares quite deeply for (Y/n). 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers softly. She digs her hands into his blazer and lets out a shaky breath. 

“I’m sorry, too.” The two stay like that for a minute before separating. Nanami picks up the bags and (Y/n) opens the door to see the two boys wrapped up beneath her sheets, cuddling. She smiles brightly before flopping herself on the bed, stretching out. Nanami sets down the bags in the corner of her room.

“Thanks, Nanamin!” Nanami nods his head, gives the boys a once over, and closes the door behind him. He pulls out his phone, sending Satouru a text letting him know she’s safe in her room. 

(Y/n) feels a slight nudge on her hip and she looks up to see Inumaki casting a glance at Yuta. The poor boy’s face took on a bright shade of pink. (Y/n) smiles before crawling up to the top of her bed, settling down behind him. 

“Aw, Yuta! Are you embarrassed?” The boy vehemently shakes his head before looking at her.

“Oh, are you shy?” He nods his head slowly. (Y/n) snuggles a little closer and wraps one arm around Yuta, playing with Inumaki’s fingers. 

“That was Nanami. He used to go to school here, I guess he was also my babysitter.” Yuta lets out a soft ‘oh’. 

“Are you both not shy,” he prods gently. Inumaki shakes his head, before resting it on Yuta’s shoulder. 

“No, we’re not. You could say the two of us are used to people constantly barging in. Toru-nii and ‘gumi still do it all the time. It’s super annoying when we’re watching a movie or something.” Yuta nods his head, resting it gently atop Inumaki’s. 

The three spent the rest of the night like that, cuddling and enjoying one another’s company until the sun came up and they could no longer ignore the impending events that would forever change the world as they knew it. 

—————————-

December 24, 2017 - the Night Parade of a Hundred Demons - the death of Geto Suguru

(Y/n) wakes that day with no one beside her, leaving her bed feeling empty and cold. She spent the night agonizing over every little thing, preparing herself for the loss of shaman that would be bound to come later in the day. 

When it came time to go to Kyoto, (Y/n) said her goodbye’s to everyone, not knowing if she would see them when morning came. Satoru accompanied her all the way to Kyoto, not wanting her to be lonely. The two spend the car ride in relative silence, not knowing what to say to make the other feel better. 

Ijichi comes to a halt after some time, signaling that they have arrived. Satoru got out of the car first, opening the door for (Y/n). Stepping out, she could see most of the Kyoto school waiting on the other side, slightly unnerving her, but she ignored it. As she surveys the crowd, (Y/n) sees plenty of familiar faces, all somber, looking at the both of them with pity. Very few people in the shaman world didn’t know of the tragic story of their small family. Utahime was the first person who stepped forward, greeting the girl. The rest begin to follow shortly. 

After the teachers had a small discussion to the side, far enough out of earshot, Satoru decides it’s time to take his leave. (Y/n) gives him a small hug before he goes.

“You’ll come get me right?” 

“I promised, didn’t I? Be safe.”

“You too.” Noritoshi rests a small, light touch on her shoulder as she watches as his car becomes nothing more than a speck on the horizon. (Y/n) sighs softly before smiles brightly, a fake one that doesn’t reach her eyes, not by a long shot, and begins to make her way to the school. 

“All right, let's get this shit show over with.”

————————————-

The students were in charge of clearing out the curses as much as possible and containing them to their designated area, which resulted in them being in the semi front lines. Foolish, I know, but unfortunately Gege is a sadist. 

Noritoshi has never seen (Y/n) fight a curse before, and he’s frankly a little frightened by his little sister. She has a malice dripping grin on her face, several cuts bleeding profusely, and a rusty kitchen knife defying the laws of physics. 

He watches as she accidentally drops the knife while a curse runs towards her, mumbling a small ‘fuck,’ before twisting her body so her right side’s facing it. He watches in fascination and mild disgust when she moves efficiently, shoving her right foot near its feet, jamming her right side into its chest area, grabbing its limb, and rips the limb from its body. (Y/n) then quickly maneuvers her body to shove the limb down its mouth with so much force, the back of the head is left with a gaping hole. 

“Now that’s a pretty extreme take on fisting, if I do say so myself.” Noritoshi doesn’t know how she can continue to make jokes at a time like this, much less where the energy comes from, but if he has to guess he’d say it was from Satoru. (Y/n) rushes over to her knife and picks it up, but not before another hoard of curses charge towards her. 

She makes quick work of them, jumping up and landing on a curse. (Y/n) uses that moment of confusion to dig her knife into one’s face and drag it out the side of its face. She uses the curse as a stepping stone to make her way onto the back of the next one. (Y/n) takes her left hand to jam the knife in the right side of its neck, yanking it through the left. The next one gets a little too close for comfort, right when Noritoshi was going to shoot an arrow, he sees the knife leave her hand and quickly shoot itself through the chest of the curse. The knife was covered in blood, (Y/n)’s and curses alike. It continues in its conquest to protect its wielder while (Y/n) grabs the head of another and forces it clean off of the rest of its body. However, she doesn’t drop the head, she swings her arm to backhand the curse coming up from behind. The curse doesn’t go flying, but it does stagger a couple steps back, far enough away that (Y/n) grabs hold of her knife, ramming it in its legs. She drives the blade through the curse’s limbs. Her face has a little splatter of its blood. (Y/n) reaches up and wipes it away with her thumb. 

“Gross.”

He watches her closely, not quite able to shake the dread of something potentially happening to the girl. He watches as she moves precisely and lodges the blade into the creature's eye, killing it, before throwing the knife, which scares the daylights out of him when it whizzes right past his head, and into a curse getting too close to Nishimiya's broom. She makes a slight pulling motion with her hand, causing the weapon to return to her. 

He watches as she throws herself in front of Mai, effectively blocking an attack. He watches as she practically flies from curse to curse, annihilating everything in her way. Again, it terrifies him to see a usually collected and care free girl attack so gracefully and primal all at once. 

(Y/n) feels something grabbing at her leg and sees it’s a curse. Before she could even take the time to angle herself in a harmful manner, Miwa slices through the limb. (Y/n) smiles at the girl, voicing a breathless ‘thanks,’ before continuing to move. Noritoshi sighs softly and makes his way to his next target. 

Some time later when the battle is almost over, he sees a trail of carnage, (Y/n) at the front, leading the destruction. He knows she can hold her own, hell he’s seen it with his own eyes and (Y/n) is in the process of evaluation to become a grade one shaman after all, but he’s still surprised at how powerful she is when she doesn’t put herself unnecessarily in harm's way. Though he thinks that maybe that makes her even more powerful at times.

“You’re a force to be reckoned with, aren’t you?” (Y/n) looks over her shoulder, giving him a tired smile. 

“Red Velvet is having a Christmas special tonight, I’m not going to miss it.” Noritoshi groans as Todo makes a sound of approval. 

“Takada-chan is too.” (Y/n) nods her head.

“See, even the jackass gets it!” This time, Noritoshi isn’t the only one that groans.

————— 

When the battle finally reaches its conclusion, everyone is extremely tired and sits on a curb, trying to get any ounce of rest possible before they’re undoubtedly drawn into another fight. A small blue speck begins to grow in front of them, and they all quickly rise to their feet, prepared to fight once again. However, none other than Satoru Gojo appears. His bandages are around his neck. Satoru does a quick once over of all the students before looking at (Y/n).

“C’mon, it’s time to say our goodbyes.” She bows slightly to the others, thanking them for their help, before joining her dad’s side, disappearing from view.

“Okay… is it just me, or does she kind of seem inhuman when she fights, like an animal? Also why are his eyes so bright?” The children let out a small laugh at Mai’s comment and begin the walk to the rest of the shaman. 

——————-

There’s a weird sense of deja vu when (Y/n) steps back into the school grounds. She sees a figure, fatally injured, making their way to them. Even with all the blood, (Y/n) can tell it’s her brother. He looks up at the two as he slides down the wall, not surprised by their arrival. 

“You’re late, Satoru.”  Without glancing at the man, (Y/n) knows he has a desolate expression, a pained smile gracing Sugurus face.

“To think you both would be the ones here at my end. Is my family safe?” (Y/n)’s heart hurts hearing those words, but her heart aches at the sight of her brother grasping an arm that is no longer there. 

“Every last one of them managed to escape. The ones in Kyoto were under your orders, too, right?” Suguru turns his head away from the two, resting his head against the cool bricks.

“Yeah,” his voice laced with pain, “Unlike you I’m a kind man.” (Y/n) huffs out a small laugh, tears forming on her waterline. Satoru stays motionless, no emotions on his face. 

“You sent those two assuming that I’d defeat them, didn’t you? To set Okkotsu off.” (Y/n) sends a questioning glance at Satoru, who wouldn’t take his eyes off of his lover. Even after all this time apart, (Y/n) knew of very few words to describe the two other than that. 

“I trusted you,” those simple words broke something in her. She’s seen first hand the love the two held, hold, for one another, “ Trusted that a man as principled as you wouldn’t kill off young shamans without a reason.” Another smile creeps its way up Suguru’s lips.

“Trust, huh? I didn’t think I still had any of that left.” He says it more to himself than anything. Suguru releases his shoulder for a second to throw a card at Satoru, but quickly grabs it once again. (Y/n) quickly glances at the card and sees Yuta’s name. 

“Was the elementary school your doing, too?” (Y/n) looks at Suguru, a smile still present. 

“Yeah.” 

“I can’t believe you,” Satoru whispers, “ Do you have any last words?” (Y/n)’s breath hitches and she quickly makes her way over to Suguru, sitting on his right side, placing a land on top of his. He looks at the hand, noticing a few familiar beads. 

“I see you’re wearing my old bracelet, it suits you.” (Y/n)’s lower lip wobbles, three words dancing on her tongue, but fear of what might happen prevents her from saying them. Suguru moves his head to look at Satoru. 

“No matter what anyone says, I hate those monkeys,” his grip tightening on his arm, or lack thereof, “But I never held any hatred for those in Jujutsu High. I just couldn’t wear a heartfelt smile in this world.”  Satoru takes a few steps forward, squatting down in front of them.

“Suguru,” the said man rolls his head to look at his other half, no energy in his movements anymore, “we’ll meet again.” Suguru’s eyes widen before he lets out a soft laugh, his soft laugh. 

“At least hit me with some curses at my end.” (Y/n)’s tears freely stream down her face, but she still keeps her mouth closed.  She whispers a barely audible, ‘I love you, Sugu-nii’ and gives him a hug, which he returns, before standing up and taking her place at Satoru’s side. She closes her eyes, not wanting to see his death, and hears the sound of flesh tearing. No heartbeat coming from his body. She makes a fist in Satoru’s jacket, scared that if she were to open her eyes, he would not be there. Satoru places a hand on her head, bringing his little girl into a hug. (Y/n) couldn’t breathe without sobs racking her body. She feels his hand on her arms, along a tear in her uniform where she had gotten hurt, warmth spreading across her arm. He guides her away from Suguru’s corpse. 

Rubble surrounding a body, slowly decaying, blood gushing everywhere, staining everything it touches, a last desperate plea of I love you,’ life fading from a brother, but this time, they’re not going to come back like before. 

Or will he?

When (Y/n) finally has the strength to open her eyes, Satoru still keeps an arm around her shoulders. No words are exchanged between the two, but none are needed. She rubs her eyes until they’re raw. The dad and daughter make their way to the others, seeing Rika turn into her human form. An adorable little girl, really. 

Satoru removes his arm from (Y/n) and claps, (Y/n), not knowing what was going on, just claps along with him. 

“Congratulations! You managed to break the curse.” The four first years look confused.

“Who are you?” (Y/n) chuckles softly, Satoru deadpans.

“Your good looking teacher, Gojo Satoru. I thought the theory Yuta came up with sounded Interesting, so I requested an investigation into their families. The investigation of Rita’s was finished quite a long time ago, but Yuta’s was full of holes at best. So then it came to light. You’re the descendant of Sugawara Michizane! That makes us super, super, super distant relatives!” (Y/n) gasps, amazed, and laughs at Satoru’s pose.

“Woah, no way!” Yuta looks confused. 

“Uh, who?” Satoru is now dancing.

“One of Japan’s three great apparitions!” Satoru is still dancing. “He’s a super big shot shaman.” (Y/n) slightly jabs her elbow into Satoru’s ribs. 

“You were right, Yuta. Rika didn’t place a curse on you. You placed a curse on Rika. Now the one who placed the curse has canceled the bond. So long as the one who was cursed doesn’t seek any penalty, it’s fully broken now. Of course, that much is obvious after seeing her in that form.” Yuta falls to the ground, tears flowing onto the cracked cement beneath him. (Y/n), while wanting to comfort the boy, stays in place, knowing how overwhelming it can be to have people surround you when you need space to breathe. 

“It was all my fault, wasn’t it? I turned you into that form, I hurt all those people, and I nearly caused everyone to die when Geto came after me!” (Y/n) feels Satoru tense at her side, she does too. Even after all this time it still catches her off guard when people mention her brother and speak of him like that. Even if they’re mostly correct. Yuta’s hands dig themselves into his hair.

“It’s all… It’s all my…” (Y/n) watches as Rika makes her way in front of Yuta. She hugs him tightly. “Yuta, thank you… for giving me more time and letting me stay by your side. These past six years, I’ve been happier than I ever was while alive.” Yuta continues to cry, only looking up when Rika lets go and stands up. She backs away from him.

“Bye-bye. Take care. And don’t come over here too soon, okay?” Everyone watches as she fades away, officially beginning to rest.

“Woah… I didn’t know death could be that sparkly or…bubbly,” (Y/n) whispers. Satoru snorts quietly. 

——————

Everyone’s standing at the school entrance, waiting for Yuta to show up. 

“Did you really call Rika’s death bubbly?” (Y/n) sighs exasperatedly.

“She literally turned into bubbles, like that one witch from the wizard of oz! How else do I describe it? There was glitter in the air.” Inumaki chuckles, holding (Y/n)’s hand. The two girls continue their small argument, even though everyone knows Maki laughed when hearing the comment. 

In the distance, they could see Yuta and Satoru walking over to them.

“Come on, Yuta! How long are you gonna keep us waiting? Let’s go!” Yuta makes his way over, standing shoulder to shoulder with (Y/n).

————

A new chapter of their lives would begin that day. (Y/n) would struggle with the loss of her brother and all the emotions that come with it. Yuta would struggle with accepting the love he deserves, but the three of them would learn together. Inumaki, (Y/n), and Yuta would slowly start dating and live happily ever after. Well… at least until the entirety of the Shibuya arc gets animated because your darling author doesn’t want to spoil anyone before then, seeing as she deeply regrets reading the manga after seeing season one of the show. 

——————————————

tag list:

@staygoldsquatchling02

@illyrian-moonswarrior

Thank you so much for reading! The next chapter, ‘purple Lilac blooms,’ will be a 5+1 fic. It should be posted next Saturday 9/30. As always, there is an oc version on my blog and this can be found on ao3. See you later, honney bears!

-honney

#honney-pies #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #ma cherie #inumaki toge #inumaki x reader #inumaki x okkotsu #yuta x reader #yuta okkotsu #inuokko #inuokku x reader #inumaki x reader x yuuta

[lordoftablecloths]

vent post i guess i dont know i just wanted to write stuff down instead of just go ing to bed and crying over it you can just scroll past it

im fine im sane im noramal im so unbleiveably cringe ,, the only person i have irl- fuck, or even online for that matter- to show the dumbass things i write is my silly little dumbass younger brother who doesn;t understand what im trying to get at and i guess its not his fault, i seriously doubt he's spent unhealthy amounts of time making various short scenerios in his head about charcters he came up with and eventually trying to give them a story and write little things about them in google docs because where else am i supposed to put this and its just ,, he doesnt know wht im trying to do and i dont know how to explain it to him because the "history" i gess behind it is so fucking complicated by now that these characters arent even the same characters as they were when i originally created them, other than some physical attributes and their names and he just knows them as the random cringe shit i made up in middle school but so many years have passed by now that these stupid fuckers whose only purpose to serve is to make me stop remembering that i exist and ive gotten too attatched to them because who else was i supposed to get attatched to when i was going through an identity crisis at the time- and, quite frankly, still fucking am- and it was so much easier to pretend i dont exist and just project my flaws and insecurities and underlying subconcsious thoughts into these charactes that no one knows about except me and oh god im just created a long ass vent post on tumblr that no one's going to read and no one understands the story behind fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck whatever ill go ahead and post this unfinished thing because no one's going to get it either way ill probably delete it later if it doesnt get buried under reblogs

dont think too much about this i just got sad because my brother was giving me a bunch of criticism on an outline of a story i was working on- which is fair, i need to take criticism- but he only knows the characters in it as their semi-formed cringe versions so i chickened out half way and now i feel bad because i was really proud of this thing for the whopping span of like one day before i decided to show it to another human person instead of letting it rot away inside of me like i usually do and now i feel bad about my writing skills

im trying so hard to just take his words with a grain of salt because this kid does not have nearly as much experience with writing as i do, but i feel like im copying too many of my inspirations (DnD, generic fantasy story about defeating evil creature, silly tropes, etc,,) which sucks because that was just like the first two pages of the outline and theres nine fucking pages and like the second half of it was what i put the most effort into and i felt like the ideas were really origianl but i could make myself let him naturally get to that part of the outline because i was starting to feel really bad and wieerd and oh god he is looking at ideas i havent ever expressed to another human person even though i am very familaiar with because i came up with them and they havebeen in my head for at least a year or two by now and have been haunting me ever since so instead of skipping ahead to the parts that were really good in my opinion but would have made no sense without context i just told him to piss off i gues s

i dont know. i feel dumb. i feel stupid. ive put so much effort into this stuff and the concept that ive been wasting my time feels like too heavy of a weight to handle. god none of this porbobably nmakes any sense ,,,,,,,,, i guess this is why i feel miserable when the fanart and shitpost memes i post get a comically larger audience and attention than the art relating to my silly goofy ocs, because these stupid fucking characters are all thats keeping me going . call me cringe, but is it still cringe if the concept that maybe i too can be around people that love me and instead of having to like me in spite of my faults love me for them keeps me from fucking killing myself is it still cringe?

if a tree falls in a forest and no one's around, does its fall even make a sound? (shit piss fuck sorry i dont remember the original quote and all i can remember is tha t one line from that one musical i dont remember what it was)

if an autistic moron that cant even talk to a cashier without having a panic attack makes a universe full of fictional characters of his own cfreation then an alternate universe, then several alternate universes, then a spin off from that original universe and etc etc but its all just on google fucking docs and no where else except deleted excerpts from a dead wattpad account, did he ever even create anything at all?

its pointless. its all so fucking pointless. its a waste of time. why do i do this at all. its so fucking pointless. it makes no fucking sense. you cant just make a story with characters in it, then make a fucking fantasy au of that universe with the same characters but with different designs and wildly different personalities and then make a whole fucking complicated lore-filled story about the fantasy au version while the original universe's story is still left mostly unfinished like forget about a first draft of the text i havent even finished the first ddraft of the outline yet buckarooooooo

okay fuck you guys thats all i want to tell you im going to go pretend to myself to try to go to sleep and then cry now

#vent #i guess #sorry for saying fuck you guys yall are the only keeping me together and making me feel like i have any importance at all #long post

[jyndor]

As much as I like cassian/rue as a concept and I really love the friendly exes idea, looking at the comparisons between the RO and Andor beach hugs like... desperately clinging to each other as close as bodies can possibly get vs that half-handshake pat-on-the-back? And like I know part of that is likely the disney toxic-masculinity-no-homo brand, but it just makes me so sad, like is this really the level of affection Cassian gets from this point on in his life? Obligatory, unthinking gestures? (until he meets Jyn and they survive and have lots of time to cuddle, obviously, but some folks don't know about that part lol)

in all seriousness I don't actually think rue and cass were ever ever ever considered by the writers to be anything more than friends, they can prove me wrong I'd be down with that but I think we should be clear when talking about this sort of thing that there are like shoulds and ares. should the writers queer up cass? fuck yes. are they going to? lol no.

is that just disney censorship? honestly I doubt it. I think society at large has a much harder time dealing with bisexuality/queerness that isn't binary than it does sexuality that is binary. it comes out differently for women and femmes than it does for men and mascs (let alone people who don't subscribe to any of those genders).

for women and femmes bisexuality and frankly same-gender attraction isn't seen as threatening patriarchy tbh. it's why we get literal gal pal shit from people when it's like, these are two wlw who have been together for decades and have gotten married and are literally fucking in their bed that they own together in their home. it's also why I think society finds it somewhat easier to believe in~~ bisexuality/pansexuality/mspec queer wlw than mlm, although lbr it's still about how the white supremacist patriarchal hegemonic ideal man can access bi wlw and therefore devaluing the wlw-ness of our wlwocity.

whereas mlm are seen as a threat to that patriarchal hegemony, the ideal man or some bullshit, because shock of shocks patriarchy impacts men and mascs negatively as fuck too. men are expected to be hyper ~masculine or whatever the fuck, access women without difficulty while also maintaining stoicism and defeating the (i cannot believe i am saying this mostly unironically) feminine urge to feel thing, to seem gay because that's feminine or whatever lol.

and so bi and mlm who are attracted to more than one gender challenge the very ideal that white supremacist patriarchy is all about. it's why so many women think bi men are automatically gay and just lying about it (well that and individual histories people have with being with men who have been closeted and cheated on them, but that's like not bisexuality that's infidelity).

so the idea that you've got a character who has an extremely important romantic relationship at the end of his life in something written years ago, I'd be shocked if the writers even considered giving cassian a boyfriend just because cassian is attracted to jyn in the film. I'm also sure cassian being a man and the lead means disney might be less cool with him being explicitly queer than say with the wlw side characters, but if we take tony gilroy's word for it, there was never any pushback on them.

as far as cassian not having any real connection until jyn, I'm not sure I agree. his connection with rue (lets make the nickname happen, ive been trying so im happy to see you using it anon) might be platonic but it's canonically important as hell - they are able to read each other well, cassian hears rue in ways melshi isn't used to, and frankly rue picks up on cassian's change in mood even if he doesn't push cass to share with him because cassian isn't ready to share.

it isn't unthinking to me. but like melshi says, they have to spread the message. the rebellion comes first.

I wouldn't be so sure that cassian doesn't have connections with characters, fuck lol kaytoo is coming next season and thats his best friend. but undoubtedly he will become more isolated as he builds a network of recruits and informants who don't know him intimately. and I don't mean sex, I mean deep knowledge of who he is.

but his relationship with jyn has always been fundamental to cassian realizing he doesn't want to go with business as usual, that he doesn't want to assassinate galen (a hope that the rebellion needs to strike against the empire) and that he can fight in the daylight instead of just in the shadows.

but it is tragic that he is so known by so few, and that when he finds someone who he understands and who understands him so well, he fucking gets vaporized lol.

lmao the death star is biphobic for killing him and jyn and making me cry every time I watch rogue one

#anonymous #asks #answered #cassian andor #ruescott melshi #star wars andor #rogue one #star wars #jyn erso #rebelcaptain #meta #lgbtqia+ #headcanon versus canon canon always relevant

[mercuryferns]

Not to “vent” on main, but i want to speak about pride and autism for a bit

I’m currently in a weird place in my life where im trying to accept many aspects of my identity that i considered ugly for a long long time. one of those being my autism, which i was diagnosed with a little earlier on this year. having that diagnosis fundamentally changed how i viewed myself in ways i struggle to describe to you. i had a brief phase where in desperation to dissociate myself from the stigmatized perception of autistic people that had unconsciously polluted my brain, i swore to use terms like “aspie” and “high functioning” “level one” as if allistic society seeing me as not human but in a slightly more appealing way (that being that instead of being seen as a four year old incapable of original thought i would be a weird carbon copy of albert einstein destined to cure cancer) would somehow make my life easier.

it doesnt, all it does is reinforce the same pseudo scientific eugenic hierarchy of what a clever worthy person is and what a broken unintelligible undeserving one is. realizing that was tough, because i grew up coping with my autistic traits by being whatever people wanted. i was like cheap air dried clay where the more i tried to mould myself into something i wasnt the more i started to crack, smooth over it meticulously with spit and desperation. im still in this spot of fragmented identity, in a liminal space between what i always wished i could be and the disappointing reality of what i actually am.

is it disappointing? is it only disappointing because i’m who i was taught was wrong?

i got what is known as an “unofficial” diagnosis. in other words, we went to a psychiatrist, did an evaluation, and was told hey yeah you’re right. this was because my mother wanted me to be diagnosed with asbergers, which is no longer recognized. i know she meant well. she didnt want me to feel like i was carrying a label too heavy for me. but theres a major part of me - especially after finding out exactly why the label “asbergers” exists - which is in violent opposition to it.

and. upon finding validation in the online autistic community i discovered just how unfounded my shame is. Being autistic is beautiful in so many ways. it makes me so sad that i would ever dismiss it as a part of me. I dont know how i managed to evade diagnosis for so long.

(when i look back on my childhood, i find it riddled with memories of rooms with yoga balls and swings; middle aged ladies with pixie cuts and the same lipstick spending hours trying to teach me how to write the letter C; pulled out of class “where am i going?“ “i think you need to calm down” “i am calm”; my father eyeing my ankles and calling “flat feet” as a reminder to let my heels touch the cold grainy tiles of our stoep, drawing faces on my erasers and sobbing for days when a girl threw penelope in the bin of the afrikaans class; reciting “just think about something else just think about something else just think about something else just-“ while attempting to get myself to eat egg and toast that was too toasted and anything with more than two identifiable textures; seeing someone in my spot in my spot in my spot in my spot in my spot thats my spot thats my spot thats my spot feeling something boil in my stomach; what are you doing i dont like it i dont understand are friends supposed to do this to me?)

Yeah. I have to study for my history exam now. But the point is that im autistic. And thats not only okay thats fucking awesome. Its a huge part of my life and if your idea of normal is what has caused me so much pain and dissociation throughout the years then deal with it when i actually embrace my own brain.

allistics who are cool, this is not intended to shit on you. just some thoughts ive had lately.

#i speak #ableism tw #tw #autism #asbergers #ugh #asd #neurodiversity #autistic #disability #i have mixed feelings about using the phrase disabled to describe myself #i feel like i havent really like #struggled to the extent that i can call myself that #but heck #learning disabilities #vent #identity #I was technically diagnosed first when I was 9 #but my mother decided I didn’t need to know that lmao

[haeroniel-doliet]

A lil updates and thoughts going on rn! Mostly about art again :') putting it under read more tho bc it got away from me again all rambly lmao

Hooo wheee! Life has been a little busy huh. Finally going to work again even if it is pretty much part time, other hobbies im keeping up with, trying to keep up on life admin and its going almost well! Shame im realizing i havent worked on my drawings in well over a month now 😅

Part of me is slightly dreading going back to them rn bc ive spent hours and hours on them already and they still need many hours before i post them....

You know that one guy on like tiktok/youtube shorts whos a really friendly old artist with a hobbit hole studio and does like 1hr paintings that look incredible? Obviously i dont expect myself being rusty and also not with years and years of experience to do the same but wouldn't that be the dream? To be able to just create and be done and happy with it in just an hour or a few and move on. How sad it is how many things i have started and not finished, outting in hours and hours where it doesnt really make even a super significant difference.

Also its that dinluke positivity week thing (god i hope this doesnt show up in the tag lmao sorry) i was really hyped months ago thinking its great prompts and great time to partake in my favourite fandom especially before february 2023 inevitably changes the scene in some way! But all of a sudden mid november is here and thats kinda terrifying! I have no clear idea for any of them, nothing im like desperate to draw and my current drawing doesnt really fit them either. Im thinking maybe i should try like, giving myself idk 2 hrs max to just make something beginning to end and if i hate it its ok i dont have to post it. But maybe i will and it could be fun! Sure i am too tired to properly do anything but idk, even making one post could give me excitement and hype for things i used to enjoy and something that isnt just real life and like job related.

To be fair i could also go for the much more guaranteed dopamine boost and play a video game ive been thinking of playing again for months. Sure i dunno which to choose and im not like super inclined to anything even tho i would like to play multiple of them again, just playing alone is a little boring i guess.

The more i spend just overthinking the quicker my sunday will be over and ill have to do next week and god knows ill be busy!! I should try drawing bc its there floating in my mind and could be easier to slip in into the day routine to do a little here and there rather than like, playing skyrim for 30 mins loll. Or oblivion bc for some reason ive been missing it. Or battlefront, even tho that is really hard to play without really trying my hardest and getting readjusted to the pace of it

Alright ok im gonna set up my digital art stuff, im gonna challenge myself to sketch something on theme for all the prompts and see what ends up catching my attention. If i can do 1 or even a couple of them thatd be really really neat!

[0v3rcxme]

so. ive been advised to do something i enjoy, like write or draw, for at least 10 minutes a day. i have not been doing that but ive decided to give it a try today and also because i love tumblr in many ways but one of them is that its like screaming into the void. and i love venting but dont feel quite ready or quite prepared to do so with people that know me.

i got a little sad today because i was supposed to go to a psychiatrist as soon as possible. like the psychologist saw me once (1) and said yeah. yeah you need some medication. which is very validating in the sense that ive thought the same thing my whole life but id never taken the step to start that particular journey. anyways. im rambling. but i cant go rn. its too expensive. and it made me quite sad, not immediately, i thought it was fine, right? ive been ignoring the fact i had to set an appointment for a week or so because its easier to ignore than to face it and i knew it was gonna be expensive but still i hoped maybe it wouldnt be. anyways because its so expensive i cant schedule the appointment. and i had to tell my psychologist because she asked me because shes so nice and kind and attentive and she asked me and i had to tell her no, i cant just yet, also i answered really late because i had been ignoring it because thats what i do.

and i told my friends and it was ok like haha yeah being mentally ill is expensive sucks to suck idk but then i got sad about it and cried a little and started thinking, is it gonna be like this the whole journey. am i gonna have to struggle to pay antidepressants or whatever they may put me on and im gonna find even more obstacles than the ones i already put myself through everytime. and it frustrated me. so i felt bad.

and my friends want to support me, and so does my mom, and when i tell my dad im sure he will want to as well but good god part of me hates to depend on them for everything. hates that i cant fix it myself. or rather, i can, but i dont know how to or dont put myself to the challenge of doing so. supposedly im gonna get paid next week and good god once again i hope i get the amount i think ill get but i hate this i hate to keep my therapist waiting i hate having to make my friends worry with this i hate that i get pissed off when its no ones fault.

anyways, ten minutes are almost up. i hate money i fucking do i wish it didnt exist i wish we didnt need it to do basic things i wish i didnt need it to better my mental health i wish not to resent it. bye

#vent #therapist mandated exercise

[steampoweredskeleton]

.

Ignore

#delete later #my grandma put a little letter in my birthdat card and said she hopes i forgive her for finding it hard for her to digest that #im trans and now i want to cry. #i dont want to make her feel bad. now i feel bad. i just wanted her to know and not be left out of knowing #i love being trans a lot of rhe time #im neutral about being trans more of the time #im sad about being trans sometimes and that time is now bc its made it hard for her and i love my grandma very much #but also im glad i told her bc she deserves to know. im sad my grandad never would have got it. im still putting his name as my middle name #but it does make me sad. i know ive got it way easier than many trans ppl but ya know. shits rough sometimes #oh also ive only managed one meal a day for like two weeks now and i feel fucking awgul but also i saved so much money #i just dont have the energy to cook much with these fucking tics. im so tired all the time. #its fine. its fine. ive got therapy work to do thatll make me feel maybe better. im just tired. #also im 21 in a week what thr fuck i hate it SO MUCH

[cursestothemoon]

yay for the open requests! I really reallyyyyyy love your Harry's older sister hc, could u pretty pls do more? like their brief life as a family with lily and james, then to the dursleys and then at war, so on. I agree with the anon that did the request, harry does needed a bigger sister❤️

aH I LOVED THESE REQUESTS

YOU GUYS CAN READ THE HEADCANONS THIS ANON IS TALKING ABOUT HERE

ok so this is L O N G i need to add a keep reading tab

alright so let's talk about harry's older sister

so lily and james did not plan you

they were straight out of hogwarts

just having fun

and suddenly lily is having morning sickness and james running into a store to buy a pregnancy test (or whatever the wizard equivalent would be 😗)

james would be so nervous the weeks leading up to your birth

he already knows that you aren't even here yet and there isn't anything he wouldn't do for you

and when you are born

he swears he'd never love anything as much as he loves you

his little girl

this sweet little lump of baby fat that was born with eyes just like his

he'd put his glasses on your little baby face, and he could laugh for hours at the way they just barely sat on your little nose (a miniature version of his)

your chubby little baby hands are his favorite

when you'd plan your hands on his face or wrap your hand around his finger he'd melt

Lily would joke all the time about how she carried the baby yet James is constantly hogging her

I think james would have some serious separation anxiety

Lily would also have trouble leaving you to go do something but she knew that you getting to see other people would be good

james is NOT a fan

and you were a big daddy's girl

"it's going to be alright, darling, uncle Padfoot and uncle Moony will take care of you."

and you'd respond with sad baby talk, something along the lines of 'daddy' and 'wanna stay with you' and you'd get all teary eyed

it's a whole dramatic scene

youre crying

james is about to cry

Sirius is quite literally trying to sob silently into his hand because you just look so sAD

and remus and lily are just

😐

because you guys do this eVERY TIME

there was one time james got back into the car with lily after dropping you off and he was unusually quiet until he kinda just whispered out

"It just feels like i'll never have enough time with her, like one day i'll wake up and suddenly she's not mine anymore."

his tone gave Lily the worst chills, his tone and the fact that she felt the same though never voiced it

honestly

i don't think harry was planned either

he kinda just happened

and they were like

you know what, yes.

so you were two when harry was born

and you LOVED your baby brother

he was so small

so cute

and he had your mum's green eyes

from the get go you were very protective of your little brother

james thought it was the cutest thing

ok ive been avoiding it

but we need to talk about October 31 1981

you were upstairs with our mum and harry

james was downstairs cleaning up from dinner

that was when there was a knock on the door

assuming it was peter, uncle wormtail, james was quick to go open the door

grabbing his wand for protection was the last thing on his mind

the thud of his body was loud

he was killed before he could even open his mouth to warn Lily

the door to Harry's nursery flew open and it all happened so fast

there was screaming

bargaining

a sudden flash fo green before Voldemort turned to harry

his cold, pale hand pushed you out of his way

the prophecy had said nothing about you, so he didn't care for what happened to you he just needed to kill harry

which obviously backfired

half the house was blown up

he was gone

harry was crying

and you just wanted your dad

you found your way downstairs, just barely making it down the steps

lily and james had never let you go up or down the steps on your own

only to come face to face with your dad just lying on the ground motionless

his eyes were still open

now i want you guys to think of the lion king

you know the scene where simba finds mufasa's dead body and just lays with it because he doesn't know where else to go

you just wanted any kind of comfort you could find

so with tear streaks going down your face you slayed next to your dad, getting as close as you could, hoping he'd just wake up

sirius is the one who finds you, asleep next to james' body

it was rather rough for sirius

and he could hear harry crying somewhere upstairs

you wake up to uncle padfoot trying to keep in his tears as he takes in the scene before him

you're just glad to see a familiar face

you run over to him, tears freshly falling as you wail about how daddy and mommy won't wake up

you also gently pull james' glasses off his face and keeping them in your small hand

keeping them safe for him later

you knew he didn't like to sleep with his glasses on

eventually hagrid shows up

you guys know the story

but i will say

it takes a lot for you to leave uncle pads and go with this big strange man

youre basically heaving as you beg to stay with sirius

and forcing you off his hip and onto the bike with hagrid was the worst thing he's ever had to do

even for a two year old, youre eyes held such a strong emotion of betrayal

sirius would never forget it

the dursley's were not fond of you and harry

you had james temper and stubbornness

harry was just a 6 month old baby

doing 6 month old baby things

for the first month you'd ask for james, lily, uncle moony, uncle padfoot, even uncle wormtail on a daily basis

until one day petunia just snapped

you had asked about sirius, or as you called him uncle padfoot, and petunia lost it

she started to shout, her hand coming out to strike your cheek as she told you that no one was coming

not now

not ever

you never asked after that

over time you forgot about sirius and remus and peter

you forgot about the song your dad would sing every saturday morning when making breakfast

or the way your mom would hum when she brushed your hair

all lily and james had become were familiar scents and the same pair of eyes you'd see in your dreams (though for a long time you just assumed they were your eyes, they looked enough like yours)

and you grew up always feeling like you were on the wrong side of a billowing curtain

you and harry grew up only having each other

you were very protective of him

and dudley hated it

because you had James art for pranks

and his art for rarely getting caught

unfortunately for you petunia and vernon didn't need evidence to incriminate you

you were often on the receiving end of disciplinary swats and missed meals

and you'd often take harry's punishments for him

you and harry were also forced to share a room

or cupboard

you let him decorate it with all his things (he didn't have many)

and you guys shared a bed up until you got your hogwarts letter

which that was kept very quiet

you got the letter

and petunia and vernon were just glad to be able to send you and your pranks away

you weren't allowed to tell harry

but you did anyway

secretly

you didn't tell him all the details but you told him that you were going to a school far away and you'd be back whenever aunt petunia let you back

going to school was interesting

you didn't know anyone

bUT HAGRID WAS ALSO THERE TO HELP YOU AND BUY YOU YOURE STUFF AND HE BOUGHT YOU YOUR FIRST WAND

you still have james' glasses

you put them on when youre nervous

so youre sitting in the train

first day

you don't know anyone

big round glasses sitting on your nose as you look out the window barely able to see what's going on

james was as blind as a bat

on the train you spend your time reading your new books

absorbing all the material

you were not going to just walk into this new school of mAGIC not knowing aNYTHING

by the time you got there you were at leas base level with most subjects

some were easier to catch onto than others

as long as you didn't let the logical side of your brain do too much work

within the first week you'd find out about your parents

curtesy of older gryffindor kids who knew your last name and were just amazed by the story

oH ALSO YOURE IN GRYFFINDOR

AND WHEN MCGONAGALL READS YOUR NAME SHE GASPS TO HERSELF

BECAUSE

Y/N POTTER

she remembers when james had written to her with the news of Lily's pregnancy with you

and how he was nervous you'd come out just like him and he wouldn't be able to handle you as well as she had, he was asking her for advice

and when you walked up to sit on the chair she nearly dropped her scroll of parchment and pulled you into a hug

you looked just like him

dark hair

pale skin

same eyes and eye shape

and same habit of picking at the skin around your thumb nail when nervous

the hat announcing you were a gryffindor was very overwhelming for her

then she realizes you

are e x a c t l y

like james

and merlin is she tiRED OF THIS SHIT

ok so at this point i am going to direct you to the other headcanon (linked above) if you want a more fred x reader approach 

continue here if not

so youre on the quidditch team

and youre a natural 

let me tell you

you just have the innate ability 

much like james

and at first they had you as a seeker

and you were good

but you excelled as a chaser 

i also firmly believed that there was a practice broom that james had carved his name into

or maybe just a ‘J.P.’

that was the broom you'd practice on

even use for games before you got your own broom

ok so

let’s talk your relationship with harry 

you made sure you were the one to tell him what happened to your parents

as i said it was your first year when you fond out about what happened 

the gryffindor student had told you what they knew

and you went to professor mcgonagall pretty distraught 

you were near tears as you practically begged her to just tell you what happened, you wanted the truth 

because all your life your aunt and uncle had told you that your parents had been killed in a car accident 

needless to say 

you didn't want harry to find out that way

but you also knew he was noticing the stares

the whispers

so you told him on the first night

he had already been put into gryffindor and was getting ready for bed when you are up to his dorm 

bECAUSE IT’S CANON THAT GIRLS CAN GO UP INTO THE BOYS DORMS AND BOYS CANT GO UP INTO THE GIRLS DORMS AND I WILL CITE THE PARAGRAPH IF ANYONE NEEDS

and you kinda push out ron, neville, and dean 

but yeah thats how he finds out all the details and such 

ok so you and harry are sUPER CLOSE

and you are very 

v e r y

protective of harry 

you'd do anything for the kid 

wHEN YOU FIND OUT ABOUT THE WHOLE SORCERER’S STONE FIASCO 

YOU ARE LIVID

because harry is your baby brother and you love him so much and don't like seeing him hurt 🥺

as harry grows older he gets a bit more

embarrassed 

about having you protective over him

and im pretty sure i mentioned this in the last headcanon post 

but yeah he’d be like 14 and you'd be 17 and he'd just

“stOP this is so emBARRASSING”

what a little dweeb

ok leTS TALK ABOUT SIRIUS 

BECAUSE YOU AND SIRIUS WERE CLOSE WHEN YOU WERE YOUNGER

HE WAS UNCLE PADFOOT

YOU LOVED HIM

until your fifth year (harry’ third) when you were told he betrayed your parents and got them killed 

youre in the whomping willow when with harry, hermione, and ron 

its a lot for both of you

because sirius is seeing his goddaughter who looks just like james, and his the same fire in her eyes as his bestrfriend

his b r o t h e r 

and youre seeing the man who was responsible for your parents murder 

again 

it was A LOT

i have a feeling you, JAMES POTTERS DAUGHTER, would just lunge at him 

and youre crying

trying to hit him

hurt him like he hurt you

just anything to bring pain upon this man

and sirius is having flashbacks of when you had ran to him from next to james’ lifeless body 

and how different everything had been just days prior to October 31 1981

upon finding out the truth 

scammers is now wormtail

peter ‘little bitch ass’ pettigrew

you and harry are immediately forming this connection

this sort of dependency on sirius 

within a few minutes

because he is the only living connection you have to your dad 

apart from yourselves of course

but eh was the only reminder that james potter was a real man 

and lily potter did exist 

and there was a time where your family was complete 

it never crossed your mind that any more misfortune could strike 

not now 

not when you finally got back your uncle pads

and then you guys walk into the moonlight, the full moon light

everything flips instantly 

you guys are back to square one 

i like to think you have a very big part in getting sirius free 

so you guys know what happen in between prisoner of azkaban and order of the phoenix 

and this headcanon is already getting very long and we haven't even gotten to the wAR YET 

so we are doing a little time jump

order of the phoenix 

your last year

you are living with sirius in grimmauld place 

petunia and vernon kicked you out once you turned 17 after finding out that was the legal age in the wizarding world

you and sirius are close 

super close

i mean he is like a father figure to you

he is uncle pads again

oOO AND OK 

SO 

AFTER FINDING OUT HIS DAD AND HIS BROS 😤

WERE ALL UNREGISTERED ANIMAGI 

OBVIOUSLY YOU WANTED TO BE ONE TOO 

youre a gazelle 

it just makes sense

father figure sirius is not happy when he finds out

uncle pads, however, couldn't be happier

its finally starting to feel like a family again

you and harry have sirius 

aLSO REMUS

icon

anyway

everything is falling into place

you and harry are filling the james sized hole in Sirius’ heart (not completely but it’s better)

and he is doing the same for you two

you and harry love your uncle pads

then the battle in the department of mysteries happens 

youre there

you see it 

you watch as bellatrix hits sirius with a curse 

youre not sure which 

nothing too serious you hope, and seeing that he’s still standing he should be fine 

but then he stumbles

she's stunned him perhaps 

and he makes eye contact with you

there was a look so final, so sad

yet so relieved in his eyes as you watched him fall through the veil

remus grabbed harry

tonks held you

if she hadn’t been you knew you would've thrown yourself into the veil after him

its a whirlwind from then on let me tell you

so we know what happens

all that fun stuff 

the war hits

harry, hermione, and ron leave

youre left with the weasley’s 

it’s hard being away from harry

not knowing if he was ok

if he was even alive 

you guys finally reunite at shell cottage 

bill calls you the second he sees harry, hermione, ron, and dobby apparate in front of his house

you were quick to pull harry into a bone crushing hug 

keen on never letting go 

because after all he is still (and always will be) your baby brother 

you guys are all at the battle of hogwarts

oK WAIT

SO

YOU REFUSE TO LET HARRY WALK TO HIS DEATH ALONE

ALSO YOUVE FIGURED WHAT HE PLANS ON DOING BUT NEITHER OF YOU HAVE SAID ANYTHING

NOT WANTING TO ACCEPT THAT THIS COULD BE THE LAST TIME YOU GUYS SEE EACH OTHER 

AND THE RESURRECTION STONE COMES OUT 

BOTH YOU AND HARRY ARE HOLDING ONTO IT 

AND SUDDENLY

SIRIUS 

REMUS 

THERE ALL THERE 

EVEN A WOMAN WITH RED HAIR 

AND A MAN WHO LOOKS PAINFULLY FAMILIAR 

ok so hear me out 

i think harry enjoyed looking at pictures of james and lily

but you didnt

you didnt want to see everything that was taken from you

so you weren’t super aware of what your dad actually looked like seeing as you avoided pictures of him and your mom like the plague 

but you just knew 

and james was standing there

beaming

and he just looked so proud of you and harry 

so did lily 

she was the first one to say something 

“Your father and I are so proud of the both of you”

and you just broke down 

james right there with you 

he watched as you sobbed, choking on your cries 

and he couldn’t do anything about it 

he couldn’t hold you or comfort you

he couldn’t be a dad 

and it broke him

as much as it could break a dead man 

“you’ve grown so beautiful, darling” he'd smile sadly

his voice seemed to bring back all of your memories once lost 

“have you always been here, with us?”

“always.”

“typical, your father shows up and everyone forgets about uncle padfoot”

both you and harry laugh at that 

but the mood was somber 

harry then speaks up

“does it hurt?”

it was the first time either of you had confirmed that you both knew what was going to happen 

“dying? not at all, quicker than falling asleep.”

“will you stay with me?”

“until the very end. 

james is the one who answers, looking teary eyes at his son

and you know you cant go any further 

harry has to do this alone 

its quite symbolic actually 

the one time you'd let go of the reigns 

removed the protective arms you had around your baby brother 

he’d die 

but you had to do it 

so everything goes as planned 

harry dies

comes back

we love a resurrecting king 

and the war ends 

when you got back home from the war 

let’s say you are still living at grimmauld place seeing as it was left to you 

the first thing you do is go through old photos with harry 

any and everything you can get your hands on 

you see your mother’s sparkling green eyes

the same eyes your brother had 

and your father’s unruly mop of curls 

the same wave pattern in your dark hair 

everything finally felt right 

tags:

@pogueslandia

@vsawyer1989​

@lifeofkaze

@siriusement

@erinruby003

@maybesandohnos

@onlyfreds

@fullofsourgrapes

#harry potter x sister!reader #james potter headcanon #harry potter headcanon #potter!reader

[honney-pies]

Ma Cherie❤︎

Chapter iv: Bona Fide

Pairing: Inuokku/ F! OC

Summary: Sometimes it’s hard to bare the genuine, real parts of your soul, but the more you do, the easier it can be.

Content Warning: major character death, slight gore, ya girl really tried to be descriptive during a fight scene, use of blades, stabbing, ripping limbs off, etc., gay people, Kanae having sad thoughts about life and people who have died, no-no words, spoilers for jjk season two, and jjk0, lmk if I’ve missed anything and I’ll add it!

Length: 5.5k

A/n: so this chapter mainly evolves around kanae and the tail end of jjk 0. I know it’s a lot shorter than the previous chapter, but their wasn’t a lot left to write lol. I wanted to end it on a happier note cause i need some fluff after the leaks cause wtf gege???? How could you do this to me???? And finally seeing Gojo’s episode in Shibuya (I won’t go into detail cause it only came out two days ago, but you know the one) has devastated me to my core and has left me in shambles. Also it has come to my attention that I’ve been spelling Yuta’s name wrong this whole time so I’m sorry. 😭Anyway, please enjoy!

Ma Cherie master list

Bona Fide -genuine, real, to be in good faith

─── ⋆⋅ December 2017 ⋅⋆ ── 

When Kanae wakes up, she’s in a tangled mess of her lover, and future lover’s, limbs. She opened her eyes to see Satoru standing above her, bandages off as he smiles down at her. 

“C’mon, let’s get breakfast. Megumi-chan is waiting for us at the front,” he whispers. She reaches up and grasps his hand, but the boys’ arms are wrapped tightly around her. She huffs, but she still smiles.

“Gimme a sec, Toru-nii.” He looks down at the girl, a knowing smile on his lips before quietly leaving the room. Kanae continues to struggle as she tries to make her way out of the mess of bodies. However, neither boy lets her leave, their arms pulling her closer to their bodies. 

‘Shit, this is really nice.’

 “Toge, Yuta, I need to leave,” she whispers softly. Yuta grumbles before scooting closer to her. Kanae feels slightly annoyed at her family for making her leave such a cozy place, but she still knew Satoru wouldn’t have gotten her up if he didn’t need to be near her for his own peace of mind. 

When she finally made her way from her bed, she got to see Yuta and Inumaki tangle themselves together, she snapped a couple photos, some on her first phone where she held the people she cares about the most, on her current phone, and a polaroid. After Suguru left Kanae made it a point to take as many pictures as possible, in order to keep as many memories alive as possible.

‘ 12/20/17 - first sleepover together’  Kanae smiles softly as she wrote, before getting dressed and slipping out the door. She quickly made her way to the front of the school, spotting her little brother and her dad bickering.

“She doesn’t have two boyfriends, Gojo.”

“She does, Megumi, you need to get over it.” Megumi looks over and spots his older sister and begins walking over to her.

“Do you have two boyfriends, nee-san?” She shakes her head and laughs at Megumi’s victorious ‘ha.’

“No, but we’re slowly getting there.” Megumi whips his head around so fast, Kanae nearly got whiplash. 

“What?” She laughs again and reaches up and messes up his hair. He grumbles and swats at her hands. 

“How did you get two boyfriends before I even got one?” She smirks at the boy.

“I’m awesome, have an amazing personality, and I’m hot. Who wouldn’t want me, ‘gumi?” He groans and shoves her away. 

“Where do you want to go for breakfast, Megumi-chan?”  Megumi looks at Satoru and thinks before shrugging his shoulders. The three of them wander around before finding a small place to eat. It has been a couple weeks since they all went out and Megumi talks about the latest documentary he watched before getting up and going to the bathroom. Satoru uses this opportunity to turn to Kanae.

“I don’t want you in Tokyo.” Kanae looks up at him, confused. 

“Chances are Suguru will be in Tokyo, I don’t want you seeing him like that. I’ve already made arrangements for Utahime to watch over you in Kyoto.” Kanae watches her dad’s face closely and notices a slight twitch. 

“You’re… you’re gonna kill him, aren’t you?” Satoru looks up at the ceiling, letting out a heavy sigh. He reaches out and grabs her hand, holding it tightly. 

“I don’t have a choice anymore, Kanae. He’s… he’s hurt too many people, killed too many people. I’ve spent so many years waiting around for him to come back, but you and I both know he won’t. I don’t want you to see that.” Kanae frowns at him before kicking his shin to make him look at her.

“I have the right to see him. I have the right to say goodbye. No, I don’t want to see him die, but I at least want to be there to make sure he goes with the people he loves. I’ll go to Kyoto, but I’m going to be there to say bye. No one will take that away from me.” Satoru sighs loudly before nodding his head.

“Fine, but I still don’t think you should.” 

“I know, but I want to.” Megumi comes back to the booth and quickly notices the tense atmosphere. When he goes to question it, Kanae shakes her head.

“What do you want for your birthday ‘gumi?” He looks thoughtful for a moment before stating he wants more books. Kanae smiles and tells him she’ll make sure to get him some. 

“What do you want nee-san?” She ‘hmm’s before smiling brightly.

“Toru-nii to not give homework!” Satoru looks extremely offended at the very thoughtt.

“I never assign homework in general!” 

“Oh right, uh, well… I guess I don’t really know what I want.” Megumi groans in response. You see, Kanae has a lot of things she wants, but she chooses not to say what it is. It’s infuriating and it ends with Satoru closing down a mall and letting her run wild. Some may think that’s an unwise choice financially speaking, but it’s not as bad as when he let her get whatever she wanted from a book store. Now that was a taxing trip. 

Satoru makes sure to get them things on Christmas and on their birthdays and the two get spoiled endlessly, unfortunately some habits are a little tougher to break when it comes to asking for what you want or need. 

While the family began the walk back to school. Megumi was a little more talkative than normal, not that anyone was complaining. It was really nice to hear him be that free when it came to spending time with them, especially since he’s been extra quiet since Tsumiki was not an active member of the family for the time being.

When they were younger, Megumi had a harder time adjusting than Tsumiki. The two girls were close in age and got along rather easily. However, it took years for Megumi to open up and shortly before Tsumiki was cursed did he begin to call Kanae his older sister. 

─── ⋆⋅ March 2016 ⋅⋆ ─── 

Tsumiki and Kanae were both walking around their middle school to go bother, to check on Megumi. Before they could turn down the second year hall, some boys blocked the hall and began to get in their faces. 

“Wow look at this, some pretty girls came to say hello.”

“Wanna go out with me?” 

“I bet she’s a freak, the quiet ones always are.” The two girls have had to deal with these comments for years, but that didn’t mean they would tolerate it. 

“The fact you think you even have a chance with either of us makes me sick. Move.” The boys still didn’t budge.

“Oh~ I love them feisty! Keeps me interested.” Kanae then made her way in front of Tsumiki.

“I’m not asking, move.” One of them scoffed at her, rolling his eyes, “Or what?” Kanae went to shove her way past them, and maybe break their micropenis’, with Tsumiki, but before she could, the guy’s face was smashed into the wall with a very angry boy behind him. 

“Do you not have basic manners? When someone says no, or implies no, it means no. Go back to kindergarten if you’ve forgotten. And don’t you ever go near my sisters again, if you do I’ll tear you to shreds.” The three boys run off, clearly embarrassed, as one of their noses bled. 

“Aw, ‘gumi!” The dark haired boy turned around. 

“What?” Kanae and Tsumiki giggled quietly.

“Megumi, you called us your sisters.” The poor boy turned red, becoming uncharacteristically shy. He quickly turned around, making his way back to class to finish his after school necessities. 

“Ya hear that Tsumi? I’ve officially become an older sister!” Tsumiki smiled.

“He’s thought of you as his sister for a while now.” Kanae hummed.

“I know, he’s been acting like I am. It just feels different now that he’s actually said it.” The two continued their walk to Megumi’s classroom, Tsumiki listening as Kanae told her all the latest gossip. 

─── ⋆⋅ December 2017 ⋅⋆ ─── 

Kanae and Satoru had just dropped Megumi off at home and are now making their way back to the school when Kanae grabs Satoru’s hand with her own, swinging it gently.

“Hey dad?” Satoru’s hand twitches slightly by his side as he turns his head towards her, letting out a small hum in acknowledgment.

“You know that I’ve pretty much always thought of you as my dad right? ‘Gumi does too.” Satoru smiles softly at her, giving her hand a small squeeze.

“I know. I’ve always thought of you as my kid… Megumi-chan and Tsumiki-chan too, but you’ll always be my first.” Kanae smiles widely before pulling Satoru into a hug. He chuckles and wraps his arms around her.

“Thank you for taking me in when you didn’t need to. When you get gross and old I’ll do the same for you.” Satoru gently shoves her away, gasping loudly. 

“How dare you? I’m never getting gross, I’ll be this hot forever!” The two laugh as they walk around in search of a good sweet shop, plans of returning long forgotten with the amazing, stunning, magnificent idea of eating junk food and gossiping. Although neither one really had anything to talk about, so they decided to make fun of the people walking by them when they pass a sunglasses shop. 

“No! You can’t come with me, that defeats the point of me getting anything! Wait, don't go yet, gimme your card first.” 

While Kanae walks around the shop she finds a nice pair of blackout sunglasses, rectangle purple frames she thinks would look good on Maki. As she made her way to the cashier, she notices an… interesting pair of sunglasses that she just knew she had to get.

‘If I don’t get them, the world just might end.’ Kanae grins so brightly as she walks out, Satoru just grabs the bags and doesn't try to peek at what was inside them. 

‘I’m such a great father.’ 

The two finally made the trek back to the school, deciding not to teleport in order to spend as much time together even though Kanae regretted that decision immensely about ten minutes into the walk. 

“Toru-nii, carry me,” she said, drawing out the ‘e’. 

“Nope.” Kanae groans loudly before pulling out her phone.

“Who’re you texting?” She positions her screen away from Satoru.

“No one.” Satoru then felt a buzz in his pocket.

‘Incoming call from Muscle Man’

“Ah, hel-”

“Satoru! Stop abusing the child! God Damn!” That was all that was said before Yaga promptly hung up. When Satoru looks over, Kanae’s trying her best to hold in her laughter before Satoru picks her up and begins to carry her. 

“I feel like I’m five again.” 

“You sure as hell don’t feel like it.” Kanae smacks him in the head. When Kanae and Satoru were younger, Satoru made a promise to himself that he wouldn’t use infinity when he was around her. Of course there are exceptions to this, like if they’re on a mission, or something like that. About fifteen minutes later Kanae got down and continues walking, although she nearly fell over when Satoru tried to jump on her back. 

“Satoru, no!”

“Satoru, yes!” 

Kanae, for a short period of time at least, felt as if she was a normal teenager. That’s something Satoru has always worked hard to do for all his kids, students and family alike. 

“It’s unforgivable to steal the youth away from kids.”

Kanae has always appreciated that about him. When they finally made it back, Nanami was waiting for them at the front of the school. The poor man had been sent to make sure Satoru attends more meetings. Kanae had been “trained” to start and prolong conversions for as long as possible if this were to happen.

“Hi, Nanamin! How are you today?” Nanami, who had only recently come back into Kanae’s life after years of trying to distance himself, has always had a sweet spot for the young girl. 

“I’m fine, how are you Kanae-kun?” Kanae then pointed at Satoru, who had somehow managed to carry an obscene amount of bags the whole way home.

“I went shopping and we found this really cute place for lunch. Are there more meetings you guys need to go to?” Nanami shook his head.

“Only Gojo-san. I’m done for the day.” Satoru groans before handing the bags to Nanami, telling him not to break anything. Satoru ruffles Kanae’s hair and drags his feet to the campus. 

“I hear you might be getting another boyfriend soon, the Okkotsu boy.” He watches as her cheeks turn a light shade of pink, letting him know that this was indeed the case. Kanae quickly turned on her heel and began speed walking to her dorm room. Nanami sighed and started to walk. He, the tall fucker he is, only had to speed up ever so slightly to keep up with her. 

“Kanae, how are you doing?” Nanami once again watches in the corner of her eyes as she deflates. Kanae looks up at the sky. Seeing Kanae act like this made him remember how much, how long, Satoru’s raised her. The two are incredibly similar when it comes to their mannerisms, attitude, and ideology, but none of these similarities make them any less their own person.

“Do… Do you think that things would be for the better if ‘bara didn’t die? I mean I know they would, but just how different? Would you be happy? Would Toru-nii and Sugu-nii be happy? Would I be happy? Don’t get me wrong, I am, but it’s different. Seeing him again, after so many years hurt. I can only imagine what it was like for others, for Toru.” Nanami knew where the girl was coming from. He had seen how Suguru broke when Haibara died. He had seen the way he broke himself. 

Haibara was Nanami’s first love, and he thinks he’ll be his last as well. He remembered the feeling of his heart breaking, the feeling of his limp body, becoming a lifeless one in his arms. After his death, Nanami refused to go on missions, finished his education, and left the shaman world. He remembers the solemn look on Kanae’s face, even at the age of eight she understood why the recent graduate needed to leave. The two didn’t keep in touch all that well, Nanami only picking her up from school on the rare occasion Satoru couldn’t. Not too long ago Nanami had joined the shaman world again, and Kanae had welcomed him with open arms just as she had when she found out of Haibara’s death. 

Nanami can only imagine how many people she’s offered her comfort to after the death of a loved one, and he feels guilty for making her go through it continuously even though he’s not the direct cause. 

When the two finally reach her room, they hear soft voices on the other side.

“Do you know when she’ll be back?” 

“I know, I know, but I still feel like she might need or want some hugs or something!” Nanami, again, watches Kanae smile softly. Before she could open the door, Nanami quietly set down the bags and wrapped his arms around the girl. He may not see her as a daughter, or a sister, but he still cares quite deeply for Kanae. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers softly. She digs her hands into his blazer and lets out a shaky breath. 

“I’m sorry, too.” The two stay like that for a minute before separating. Nanami picks up the bags and Kanae opens the door to see the two boys wrapped up beneath her sheets, cuddling. She smiles brightly before flopping herself on the bed, stretching out. Nanami sets down the bags in the corner of her room.

“Thanks, Nanamin!” Nanami nods his head, gives the boys a once over, and closes the door behind him. He pulls out his phone, sending Satouru a text letting him know she’s safe in her room. 

Kanae feels a slight nudge on her hip and she looks up to see Inumaki casting a glance at Yuta. The poor boy’s face took on a bright shade of pink. Kanae smiles before crawling up to the top of her bed, settling down behind him. 

“Aw, Yuta! Are you embarrassed?” The boy vehemently shakes his head before looking at her.

“Oh, are you shy?” He nods his head slowly. Kanae snuggles a little closer and wraps one arm around Yuta, playing with Inumaki’s fingers. 

“That was Nanami. He used to go to school here, I guess he was also my babysitter.” Yuta lets out a soft ‘oh’. 

“Are you both not shy,” he prods gently. Inumaki shakes his head, before resting it on Yuta’s shoulder. 

“No, we’re not. You could say the two of us are used to people constantly barging in. Toru-nii and ‘gumi still do it all the time. It’s super annoying when we’re watching a movie or something.” Yuta nods his head, resting it gently atop Inumaki’s. 

The three spent the rest of the night like that, cuddling and enjoying one another’s company until the sun came up and they could no longer ignore the impending events that would forever change the world as they knew it. 

—————————-

December 24, 2017 - the Night Parade of a Hundred Demons - the death of Geto Suguru

Kanae wakes that day with no one beside her, leaving her bed feeling empty and cold. She spent the night agonizing over every little thing, preparing herself for the loss of shaman that would be bound to come later in the day. 

When it came time to go to Kyoto, Kanae said her goodbye’s to everyone, not knowing if she would see them when morning came. Satoru accompanied her all the way to Kyoto, not wanting her to be lonely. The two spend the car ride in relative silence, not knowing what to say to make the other feel better. 

Ijichi comes to a halt after some time, signaling that they have arrived. Satoru got out of the car first, opening the door for Kanae. Stepping out, she could see most of the Kyoto school waiting on the other side, slightly unnerving her, but she ignored it. As she surveys the crowd, Kanae sees plenty of familiar faces, all somber, looking at the both of them with pity. Very few people in the shaman world didn’t know of the tragic story of their small family. Utahime was the first person who stepped forward, greeting the girl. The rest begin to follow shortly. 

After the teachers had a small discussion to the side, far enough out of earshot, Satoru decides it’s time to take his leave. Kanae gives him a small hug before he goes.

“You’ll come get me right?” 

“I promised, didn’t I? Be safe.”

“You too.” Noritoshi rests a small, light touch on her shoulder as she watches as his car becomes nothing more than a speck on the horizon. Kanae sighs softly before smiles brightly, a fake one that doesn’t reach her eyes, not by a long shot, and begins to make her way to the school. 

“All right, let's get this shit show over with.”

————————————-

The students were in charge of clearing out the curses as much as possible and containing them to their designated area, which resulted in them being in the semi front lines. Foolish, I know, but unfortunately Gege is a sadist. 

Noritoshi has never seen Kanae fight a curse before, and he’s frankly a little frightened by his little sister. She has a malice dripping grin on her face, several cuts bleeding profusely, and a rusty kitchen knife defying the laws of physics. 

He watches as she accidentally drops the knife while a curse runs towards her, mumbling a small ‘fuck,’ before twisting her body so her right side’s facing it. He watches in fascination and mild disgust when she moves efficiently, shoving her right foot near its feet, jamming her right side into its chest area, grabbing its limb, and rips the limb from its body. Kanae then quickly maneuvers her body to shove the limb down its mouth with so much force, the back of the head is left with a gaping hole. 

“Now that’s a pretty extreme take on fisting, if I do say so myself.” Noritoshi doesn’t know how she can continue to make jokes at a time like this, much less where the energy comes from, but if he has to guess he’d say it was from Satoru. Kanae rushes over to her knife and picks it up, but not before another hoard of curses charge towards her. 

She makes quick work of them, jumping up and landing on a curse. Kanae uses that moment of confusion to dig her knife into one’s face and drag it out the side of its face. She uses the curse as a stepping stone to make her way onto the back of the next one. Kanae takes her left hand to jam the knife in the right side of its neck, yanking it through the left. The next one gets a little too close for comfort, right when Noritoshi was going to shoot an arrow, he sees the knife leave her hand and quickly shoot itself through the chest of the curse. The knife was covered in blood, Kanae’s and curses alike. It continues in its conquest to protect its wielder while Kanae grabs the head of another and forces it clean off of the rest of its body. However, she doesn’t drop the head, she swings her arm to backhand the curse coming up from behind. The curse doesn’t go flying, but it does stagger a couple steps back, far enough away that Kanae grabs hold of her knife, ramming it in its legs. She drives the blade through the curse’s limbs. Her face has a little splatter of its blood. Kanae reaches up and wipes it away with her thumb. 

“Gross.”

He watches her closely, not quite able to shake the dread of something potentially happening to the girl. He watches as she moves precisely and lodges the blade into the creature's eye, killing it, before throwing the knife, which scares the daylights out of him when it whizzes right past his head, and into a curse getting too close to Nishimiya's broom. She makes a slight pulling motion with her hand, causing the weapon to return to her. 

He watches as she throws herself in front of Mai, effectively blocking an attack. He watches as she practically flies from curse to curse, annihilating everything in her way. Again, it terrifies him to see a usually collected and care free girl attack so gracefully and primal all at once. 

Kanae feels something grabbing at her leg and sees it’s a curse. Before she could even take the time to angle herself in a harmful manner, Miwa slices through the limb. Kanae smiles at the girl, voicing a breathless ‘thanks,’ before continuing to move. Noritoshi sighs softly and makes his way to his next target. 

Some time later when the battle is almost over, he sees a trail of carnage, Kanae at the front, leading the destruction. He knows she can hold her own, hell he’s seen it with his own eyes and Kanae is in the process of evaluation to become a grade one shaman after all, but he’s still surprised at how powerful she is when she doesn’t put herself unnecessarily in harm's way. Though he thinks that maybe that makes her even more powerful at times.

“You’re a force to be reckoned with, aren’t you?” Kanae looks over her shoulder, giving him a tired smile. 

“Red Velvet is having a Christmas special tonight, I’m not going to miss it.” Noritoshi groans as Todo makes a sound of approval. 

“Takada-chan is too.” Kanae nods her head.

“See, even the jackass gets it!” This time, Noritoshi isn’t the only one that groans.

————— 

When the battle finally reaches its conclusion, everyone is extremely tired and sits on a curb, trying to get any ounce of rest possible before they’re undoubtedly drawn into another fight. A small blue speck begins to grow in front of them, and they all quickly rise to their feet, prepared to fight once again. However, none other than Satoru Gojo appears. His bandages are around his neck. Satoru does a quick once over of all the students before looking at Kanae.

“C’mon, it’s time to say our goodbyes.” She bows slightly to the others, thanking them for their help, before joining her dad’s side, disappearing from view.

“Okay… is it just me, or does she kind of seem inhuman when she fights, like an animal? Also why are his eyes so bright?” The children let out a small laugh at Mai’s comment and begin the walk to the rest of the shaman. 

——————-

There’s a weird sense of deja vu when Kanae steps back into the school grounds. She sees a figure, fatally injured, making their way to them. Even with all the blood, Kanae can tell it’s her brother. He looks up at the two as he slides down the wall, not surprised by their arrival. 

“You’re late, Satoru.”  Without glancing at the man, Kanae knows he has a desolate expression, a pained smile gracing Sugurus face.

“To think you both would be the ones here at my end. Is my family safe?” Kanae’s heart hurts hearing those words, but her heart aches at the sight of her brother grasping an arm that is no longer there. 

“Every last one of them managed to escape. The ones in Kyoto were under your orders, too, right?” Suguru turns his head away from the two, resting his head against the cool bricks.

“Yeah,” his voice laced with pain, “Unlike you I’m a kind man.” Kanae huffs out a small laugh, tears forming on her waterline. Satoru stays motionless, no emotions on his face. 

“You sent those two assuming that O’d defeat them, didn’t you? To set Okkotsu off.” Kanae sends a questioning glance at Satoru, who wouldn’t take his eyes off of his lover. Even after all this time apart, Kanae knew of very few words to describe the two other than that. 

“I trusted you,” those simple words broke something in her. She’s seen first hand the love the two held, hold, for one another, “ Trusted that a man as principled as you wouldn’t kill off young shamans without a reason.” Another creeps its way up Suguru’s lips.

“Trust, huh? I didn’t think I still had any of that left.” He says it more to himself than anything. Suguru releases his shoulder for a second to throw a card at Satoru, but quickly grabs it once again. Kanae quickly glances at the card and sees Yuta’s name. 

“Was the elementary school your doing, too?” Kanae looks at Suguru, a smile still present. 

“Yeah.” 

“I can’t believe you,” Satoru whispers, “ Do you have any last words?” Kanae’s breath hitches and she quickly makes her way over to Suguru, sitting on his right side, placing a land on top of his. He looks at the hand, noticing a few familiar beads. 

“I see you’re wearing my old bracelet, it suits you.” Kanae’s lower lip wobbles, three words dancing on her tongue, but fear of what might happen prevents her from saying them. Suguru moves his head to look at Satoru. 

“No matter what anyone says, I hate those monkeys,” his grip tightening on his arm, or lack thereof, “But I never held any hatred for those in Jujutsu High. I just couldn’t wear a heartfelt smile in this world.”  Satoru takes a few steps forward, squatting down in front of them.

“Suguru,” the said man rolls his head to look at his other half, no energy in his movements anymore, “we’ll meet again.” Suguru’s eyes widen before he lets out a soft laugh, his soft laugh. 

“At least hit me with some curses at my end.” Kanae’s tears freely stream down her face, but she still keeps her mouth closed.  She whispers a barely audible, ‘I love you, Sugu-nii’ and gives him a hug, which he returns, before standing up and taking her place at Satoru’s side. She closes her eyes, not wanting to see his death, and hears the sound of flesh tearing. No heartbeat coming from his body. She makes a fist in Satoru’s jacket, scared that if she were to open her eyes, he would not be there. Satoru places a hand on her head, bringing his little girl into a hug. Kanae couldn’t breathe without sobs racking her body. She feels his hand on her arms, along a tear in her uniform where she had gotten hurt, warmth spreading across her body. He guides her away from Suguru’s body. 

Rubble surrounding a body, slowly decaying, blood gushing everywhere, staining everything it touches, a last desperate plea of I love you,’ life fading from a brother, but this time, they’re not going to come back like before. 

Or will he?

When Kanae finally has the strength to open her eyes, Satoru still keeps an arm around her shoulders. No words are exchanged between the two, but none are needed. She rubs her eyes until they’re raw. The dad and daughter make their way to the others, seeing Rika turn into her human form. An adorable little girl, really. 

Satoru removes his arm from Kanae and claps, Kanae, not knowing what was going on, just claps along with him. 

“Congratulations! You managed to break the curse.” The four first years look confused.

“Who are you?” Kanae chuckles softly, Satoru deadpans.

“Your good looking teacher, Gojo Satoru. I thought the theory Yuta came up with sounded Interesting, so I requested an investigation into their families. The investigation of Rita’s was finished quite a long time ago, but Yuta’s was full of holes at best. So then it came to light. You’re the descendant of Sugawara Michizane! That makes us super, super, super distant relatives!” Kanae gasps, amazed, and laughs at Satoru’s pose.

“Woah, no way!” Yuta looks confused. 

“Uh, who?” Satoru is now dancing.

“One of Japan’s three great apparitions!” Satoru is still dancing. “He’s a super big shot shaman.” Kanae slightly jabs her elbow into Satoru’s ribs. 

“You were right, Yuta. Rika didn’t place a curse on you. You placed a curse on Rika. Now the one who placed the curse has canceled the bond. So long as the one who was cursed doesn’t seek any penalty, it’s fully broken now. Of course, that much is obvious after seeing her in that form.” Yuta falls to the ground, tears flowing onto the cracked cement beneath him. Kanae, while wanting to comfort the boy, stays in place, knowing how overwhelming it can be to have people surround you when you need space to breathe. 

“It was all my fault, wasn’t it? I turned you into that form, I hurt all those people, and I nearly caused everyone to die when Geto came after me!” Kanae feels Satoru tense at her side, she does too. Even after all this time it still catches her off guard when people mention her brother and speak of him like that. Even if they’re mostly correct. Yuta’s hands dig themselves into his hair.

“It’s all… It’s all my…” Kanae watches as Rika makes her way in front of Yuta. She hugs him tightly. “Yuta, thank you… for giving me more time and letting me stay by your side. These past six years, I’ve been happier than I ever was while alive.” Yuta continues to cry, only looking up when Rika lets go and stands up. She backs away from him.

“Bye-bye. Take care. And don’t come over here too soon, okay?” Everyone watches as she fades away, officially beginning to rest.

“Woah… I didn’t know death could be that sparkly or…bubbly,” Kanae whispers. Satoru snorts quietly. 

——————

Everyone’s standing at the school entrance, waiting for Yuta to show up. 

“Did you really call Rika’s death bubbly?” Kanae sighed exasperatingly.

“She literally turned into bubbles, like that one witch from the wizard of oz! How else do I describe it? There was glitter in the air.” Inumaki chuckles, holding Kanae’s hand. The two girls continue their small argument, even though everyone knows Maki laughed when hearing the comment. 

In the distance, they could see Yuta and Satoru walking over to them.

“Come on, Yuta! How long are you gonna keep us waiting? Let’s go!” Yuta makes his way over, standing shoulder to shoulder with Kanae.

———

A new chapter of their lives would begin that day. Kanae would struggle with the loss of her brother and all the emotions that come with it. Yuta would struggle with accepting the love he deserves, but the three of them would learn together. Inumaki, Kanae, and Yuta would slowly start dating and live happily ever after. Well… at least until the entirety of the Shibuya arc gets animated because your darling author doesn’t want to spoil anyone before then, seeing as she deeply regrets reading the manga after seeing season one of the show. 

—————

Thank you so much for reading! The next chapter, ‘purple Lilac blooms,’ will be a 5+1 fic. It should be posted next Saturday 9/30. As always, there is a self insert on my blog and this can be found on ao3. See you later, honney bears!

-honney

#jjk #honney-pies #jujutsu kaisen #inumaki toge #ma cherie #okkotsu yuuta #inuokku x oc #inumaki x okkotsu #inuokko #inumaki x oc #yuta okkotsu #Yuta x oc

[yukisnowywriting]

I Will Always Be With You, Promise.

Karatachi Kagura x y/n

masterlist

genre : angst, hurt/comfort, fluff.

warning : suicidal, depression, all that dark stuff

a/n : ayeeeee im back ayeee (no one probably cares but ayeeeee). this is quite OOC cuz my mans got no enough screentime and I just made this to comfort myself with some imaginations so yeah... Enjoy! (i swear theres so little fanfic of kaguraxreader)

I dont know kaguras age so lets just imagine hes 15 (ah... young love)

(btw u could change the chara u imagine if u dont like him or dont know kagura)

---

Being a rare child thats more smarter and talented than other people in kirigakure was a very great thing, the adults respect you, the mizukage knows of your well being, and its easier to win some quiz or test while ending up number one. A dream like life, atleast for everyone else. For y/n, the expectation of being number one burdens you too much. Especially for you who was still turning into a teenager.

The burden was too much until when you end up number one again, you stopped feeling happy nor proud. Y/n only wanted to spend atleast her teen years with friends your age and having fun.

ah right... you dont have friends your age (typical y/n, sad that im really like this). You only managed to talk to Kagura, well hes only 2 years older... eventhough you feel like hes avoiding you, maybe he hates you too.

guess you have nobody

---

Kagura POV

..."why is she so cute" (simp-)

Getting to introduce myself and to talk with y/n was the best mistake Ive made. Sad that we dont spend time that much. My heart races too much whenever I talk to her, this is bad for my health.

The way she smiles, walks, runs, everything she does makes my heart flutter...

we've know each other for two years, but it feels like theres a barrier between us that she made, always one step closer and two steps back.

i look at her from afar every time i get a chance to, i feel like im obsessed, but just seeing her blink makes me fall in love all over again.

i feel like at this point i know almost all her cute habits, what is she probably doing at the second, and many more. I wonder if I should... get closer to her.

maybe starting next week. i dont have any schedule next week anyways, and neither y/n

end of pov

---

one week later

You were just at your normal spot, a high cliff near the ocean, kirigakure sure has a very great view eventhough being called mist village. But today, life was more tougher on the little details than usual with you, and now when you see the ocean, you think 'how peaceful it is, even thy waves move with big heavy strokes, yet always reflected beautiful and peaceful.' and to get to the point, it felt so peaceful, that you felt like.... being in it will have you in peace.

You take on step to the edge, and another, and more follows as your eyes began to be lost of the people youve cared for.

you may have a little crush on that cute yet powerful blonde, and actually tried to convince yourself that the two of you were similar, you came to conclusion that the two of you are not to be compared. Kagura is way better than you, the gods picked him to support. He is just the same as you, a powerful individual, but not like you, he develops himself fastly, even when no one in the village turn to eye him as a person and not of the forth mizukage bloodline, he still grew into a powerful person to protect. How you envy his mind. How you hated that he could do what you cant. How you hated that you hate him so much but each time he sees you he gives you a smile and a compliment that youve always wanted. How he says "your a very exceptional person, not like what they say, your not just a genius, your also a very lovely person". You hate that everything he does makes you want to breathe another day just to see his smile. You hate that the fact that you will break into tears right now and stop the thing your going to right now if he comes up to you.

Just like right now...

---

As he took every confidence to stand beside you, he walks to your usual spot with the intention of getting more close to you by striking up a conversation and inviting you to spend the day with him.

But the moment he was there, he panicked as he sees you stepping towards the edge abnormally, it looks clear that you were trying to jump, but the waves today were too much for you to go swimming so he knows that whatever you were gonna do, it wasnt gonna be good. He wants to stop you but once he looks at you eyes from afar, he could sense all of your negativity and a little light that whispers your hope of wanting to dissappear from this world. As he stops and stands a few meters behind you, he ask "are you okay?". he seemingly did not catch your attention but know by how you fasten your steps little by little that you were still willing to jump.

He grabs your hand and spins you around, he bends his body a little to meet your eyes with one arm engulfing you in his embrace. "you had a bad day didnt you? do you want to share it with me?" he pulls away giving little space between you and him, as he gives you a warm gentle smile. you just looked down as tears start to escape your eyes, and little sobs break. he once again embraces you and gently tucks your head in his chest. After a few moments, you start to ramble on about what your feeling;

why does it have to be me? why do people carry me oh so high but when i fail, they turn their backs. they appreciate me when Im all correct but even 0.1 mistake can take effect... i dont like this... im still 13, in the last mission, people my age were running around, laughng with their friends. why cant i do that? i dont wanna keep being lcked up in a room reading books, i want to play too! i dont wanna do paperwork everyday! i want to go out relax with friends.... but all im expected to do is- is- learn- win number one- ranked number one- complete missions- and not fail... i dont like this... its to heavy... the pressure is suffocating me... i-i-

I dont wanna die...

she says to the person that embraces her lovingly for the first time. her last sentence was heard to be aa quiver as she continues her quite cries which were never heard before.

Kagura always knew her as a quite yet cheerful person. she brings a big positive energy to thee who is beside her. The moment she introduced herself to him for the first time, her voice was like light that could reassure people of their path and that everythings going to be okay. But he didnt knew that the one in need of the light is the light itself.

He strokes her hair gently as If she was made of glass. And silently snuggles closer to her smaller figure... Then he lets out a soft whisper

"you've went through so much until now. I can't comfort you nor can I help, but for now the only thing i can do is be by your side. We don't talk too much and we don't interact the most, so i think this is too early, but I love you. You did a great job, you've handled so much until this second, you've carried so much until now, even if people are dissatisfied of you, just remember, i will always be proud of you, i will always support you, and i love you"

"you could rest yourself now, even just for a second. Just rest and forget all of the pressure as if it doesn't exist." He continues

"i don't want anyone to hate me- i don't want to disappoint anyone" you wanted to continue but then he says

"even if the world is against you, i will always be by your side. Promise"

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

Everyone has their own bad side, and everyone makes mistakes, this was just a fanfic to comfort myself and also just me ranting. So this whole fanfic is probably to ooc, if u didn't like it, it's okay, if u like it then I'm glad. I don't see much Kaguraxreader fanfics, and i really need some whether in Wattpad or Tumblr or any other apps,

PLEASE FRCKING TELL ME IF YOU KNOW ANY FANFIC OF KAGURAXREADER. I AM DESPERATELY SEARCHING EVERYWHERE DAMMIT- thank you (´；ω；｀)

#kagura karatachi #kagura x reader #kagura fanfic #karatachi kagura fanfic #kagura karatachi x reader #karatachi kagura x reader #boruto fanfic #boruto angst #boruto fluff #kagura angst #kagura fluff #karatachi kagura angst #karatachi kagura fluff #I NEED MORE KAGURA FANFICS PLS #karatachi kagura

[keilemlucent]

pretty eyes & starshine: i

(NSFW)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

part i   ||   part ii   ||   part iii

beta’ed: @shadowworks & @keiqos​ (thank you!! 💞)

word count: ~9.4k

Keigo surrenders to losing himself in the blank-walled, temporary home he inhabits. He finds familiarity in the routine of aches, pains and pills. 

You’re his only solace. 

warnings: bodily trauma, medical trauma, PTSD, dissociation, suicidal ideation, alcohol as a coping mechanism and graphic description of sustained injury

a/n: oh wow so here it is, big sad fic :’^) part one!! it’s canon divergent from manga chapter 296 onwards.

this one has been a long time coming. please mind the warnings!! this fic deals a lot with trauma and mental illness in tandem. the warnings are going to change with the coming parts, so please be mindful. i don’t wanna get too sappy, but this piece has been my Baby for the past few months, and i’m excited to finally share. that being said, enjoy loves 💞

Everyone is fucked up after the War.

There is no kindness in an aftermath like this one, not so soon, and certainly not with dried blood of old comrades and mud still caking under its metaphorical fingernails. The world was in shambles, and every hero is along with it.

There is something horrifying about being at the center of it all, Hawks, no, Keigo thinks solemnly, all too often. 

He’s used to the attention he’s getting, touches and poking and prodding by near strangers. Except, he was used to exclamations of how great and powerful and remarkable he was. Now, all the attention he receives is followed by little sighs and sad, broken eyes.

He’s sure he looks equally as sad; Keigo had been nothing but an empty shell since the War had ended and he’d been carted off to his hospital room. Numb despite all of his burns. 

It’s the shock, he tells himself, he’ll snap out of it any day.

Any day.

...

And it is any day.

He wakes up to screaming from the next room over, agonized wails that pierce the air as his morning nurse enters. She’s over-worked and haggard while checking his vitals with a forced smile. They don’t make conversation with him much anymore, and Keigo doesn’t have the energy to try and force it. There isn’t enough in him to pretend that he’s okay enough to banter with folks. 

If he still had his wings, he would’ve wrapped himself up tight in the plumage and let himself rot away in some corner. He’d let the dissociated numbness fade, however long it took, and then succumb to whatever psychological wounds revealed themselves. 

Waste away, all alone.

But he doesn't have that luxury. He is in an overcrowded hospital with swarms of civilians and heroes, all stuffed in one place because the world doesn’t have the time to differentiate between the wounded, nor the space or resources to give different resources. Though, Keigo is a special case, hence why he’s had healers coming to him for the past three weeks since the War trying to coax his body into genesizing a new pair of wings. 

The Commission’s hospital has all the bells-and-whistles that a medical professional could need, but Keigo, and so many others, are facing problems that don’t have good and easy roads to healing. 

That’s assuming healing was even possible.

Keigo is convinced, has been convinced, that there is no way to come back from the War, nor the absence on his back, nor the shouts and cries of pain that echo around the hospital like a new genre of music that Keigo so desperately wants to scrub from his brain.

Things change, it’s inevitable. Everyone falls eventually, and he was just used to flying.

It’s a harder descent. 

...

Keigo doesn’t meet you on any day, he meets you on a lonely night.

The evenings and early mornings were the most peaceful at the hospital. Most folks, three weeks after the end of it all, had serious enough injuries that they had to be somewhat sedated to sleep, either for physical or mental pain keeping them from sleep.

It’s morose, Keigo thinks, quietly and privately, but he craves those hours. All he hears then is the hum of air vents and beeps of his own medical machinery. None of the audible agony of the folks he was sworn to protect.

He’s slept most of the day, not lucid enough to do much else, and the nurses haven’t been giving him sedatives unless he asked (though he always did.) Without forced quiet, he’s antsy, fingers twitching and flaring the new (and growing) pains rooted in his (empty, isn’t that horrifying—) back.

He rouses himself, adjusting his scratching hospital garb (thin sweats and a cheap crew neck with the back almost entirely cut away). With his IV pole at his side, he resolves to take a few laps and quiet himself, hopefully.

(Keigo would need sedatives, he always did, but it was nice to play pretend that he didn’t. It made things easier for a precious hour or two.)

His laps are usually quick, despite how much his body aches when he walks. So much new, burnt tissue that needed to learn how to move, how to live again, kept him throbbing and gritting his teeth.

Masochism be damned, he keeps at it during his sleepless nights. Physical therapy wasn’t an option when the world was caving in with him at the epicenter.

There’s a common room at the end of the foyer of identical (filled) hospital rooms, just a collection of stuffy, uncomfortable couches that face an aged TV and a wide bay of windows. It’s rarely used, just a formality for when the space of the hospital had regularly hurt victims and heroes. When it wasn’t bearing so much weight. 

Sometimes, he would stop to idly regard the mostly barren world around the hospital. Far from the cities, a little hideaway for heroes and their loved ones to heal in privacy. Other than sheer distance, there is a thick, organic shield around the complex.  It’s a towering forest, man-planted with identical types of trees in perfect rows. 

It’s grim in its predictability. 

(When did he get so fucking pensive?)

(Oh yeah, too much time locked in his goddamn skull.)

He hadn’t been planning to have any inner musings that night.

But, that night, he notes that he is not alone. 

On one of the hard couches, you sit, with your own IV-pole companion and injuries, an arm carried in a monochromatic sling and set in a hard cast.

You turn to him, blinking wide eyes at him.

There’s a single lamp on, and the light dances in your eyes with its own unexpected rhythm.

Something compels Keigo to smile, cocky, like he used to, and greet you with a little wave, and a finger to his lips.

Your expressions melts, a hand going over your mouth to stifle a giggle.

It’s like you’re pulling him after that, he finds himself resting across from you.

You must look like a pair, he realizes. You’re greasy, he’s greasy. He’s got a fine layer of built-up stubble that shouldn’t be called anything other than impressive peach fuzz (not that Keigo’s seen it, he’s felt it. The idea of looking in a mirror makes him sick to his stomach. Though you don’t have any pseudo-beard, you’ve got your own unkempt look and feel that makes you two kindred without sharing a word.

It feels comfortable, warm.

“Hi,” you speak first, voice soft and gentle. “Can’t sleep?”

“Nah, who can?” Keigo replies, shaking his head. “But what about you? Midnight oil doesn’t burn without a cause, you know.” 

Your expression is also painful in the way it’s so open, yet worn (most everyone had locked up by now, the ones in the hospital and Keigo imagined the ones outside of it too.) 

“I like the sky— the stars are pretty.” You sigh, wistful. “I watch for shooting stars.”

The thought, the significance of that obvious wanting, makes something pang deep in his chest. Childlike hope in a place like this, foolish as well as frail.

“Trying to get a wish?” Keigo clicked his tongue. “Smart.”

“No, no— wishing doesn’t... suit me, right now.” You snorted, shaking your head, the light in your eyes dancing, “I just think they’re pretty.”

Keigo blinks, unable to stop the way his eyes widen.

Your posture reads nothing but earnestness and vulnerability, so freely given (so undeserved) without a hint of pullback.

“What do you want to be called?”

“... Excuse me?” Keigo is not used to his thoughts being interrupted in the blanket of dark that he feels most comfortable in. Your words shock him enough with their meaning, let alone the way you’re so brazen. 

“I, uh,” You stumble on your words. “I know who you are, but I also saw that whole broadcast, which I’m going to easily assume you don’t want to talk about. But, I don’t know how much you want to be called ‘Hawks’ at this point either.”

His mouth is dry.

“So, I ask instead,” You lean forward, your IV line pulling the slightest bit and you wince. His discomfort must be very fucking apparent, because you backtrack in moments. “... Or, neither. I can call you something else, too.”

“... A nickname, for someone you don’t even know?” Keigo, Hawks, whoever he is now struggles with words. There’s too many, and they’re all too fast, and he doesn’t have his wings to catch up to them or outrun them— 

“Yeah, why not?” You shrug with a lazy smile. “I’ll call you... pretty eyes. How about that?”

Keigo does have pretty eyes. They’re gold, light and glittering amber in the lowlight. Before he, ya’ know, lost them, and when things were good, but awful, but normal, he darkened the organic marks around his canthi with liquid eyeliner. He liked makeup, prettied himself up and accentuated all the good he had. Preening.

None of that is left, just what organically was on his skin, and he hasn’t seen it in its raw state in years, and like fuck if he was going to look in a mirror just to figure out if his natural eyeliner was half as good as that by his own hand. 

“Sure, that works,” He relaxes, mirroring your expression like the practiced... pro he is. “What do I call you, starshine?”

You roll your eyes, but nothing about you fades as you tell him your name, something that calms and fills him, “But, you can call me starshine if you want. Sounds nice.”

It’s sweet.

So, Keigo greets you.

“Nice to meet you, starshine.”

...

That’s the first time you kept each other’s company. Most of it is quiet, you truly do just want to watch the stars. Keigo did with you, tracing the shadows of clouds and moonlight with his eyes.

(Occasionally, his gaze shifts to you, regarding your figure with the same care for only a moment before returning to the sky you both miss.)

Eventually, the quiet heat of it puts him half to sleep, and he bids you goodnight.

You wave goodbye, rising as he away.

The light isn’t in your eyes anymore, and your warmth feels a little too far away.

...

The next days are long.

He slips into that shell-state again, where he’s a husk that stares emptily at the ceiling as the Commission tries to piece him together to a fraction of what he once was. 

They fail, each time, because no healer they’ve brought can regenerate quirk-formed appendages, but he commends their efforts all the same. It’s out of desperation, sure, but he’s heard whispers of the new generation. In recalling his own sidekicks, he isn’t as scared for the future. 

(Everyone else’s future. He’s so terrified of his own that he turns extra numb if he thinks about it.) 

Selfishly, he just wants his wings for himself. They’d keep him plenty company. If he ever did get them back, he’d fly somewhere, faraway and alone to live out his days under his feathers and feel as empty as he wanted. 

They fuss over him all day, not knowing those desires. They are private, and he only puts on his old, self-confident bravado so they don’t lock him up somewhere to have his brain picked and to fill the new holes with pill-shaped gauze. 

As established, Keigo was content to rot.

(He can’t fully parse all of his feelings and they consume him.)

The healers for the week all failed, doing nothing but making his back bow and burn. It’s painful. Obviously, trying to stitch a body back together, or rather making a body make when it was so tired of creating—

(Feather after feather after feather, for how long?)

He’s glad his sessions are in a different room, a spare, horrifyingly metallic exam room across the hospital. It reeks like iron and isopropyl alcohol, but Keigo doesn’t mind. The filmy paper that rolls from the exam table gets soaked with his sweat as opposed to his familiar bed dressings. 

Not to mention, it’s nice, not having to hear his neighbor’s screams and pleadings to God, any god, for reprieve. Calming. 

(He feels less guilty. Less like it was his own hand that scarred up their bodies. If he can’t hear them, he only thinks of his own agony under ‘helping’ hands.)

His body is exhausted at the end of each day, and even his restlessness fades with the necessities of his body.

He doesn’t see you, and practically forgets about you.

It’s a week or so later when he takes one of his strolls, and finds you tucked away into your nook, dimly lit and with a blanket over your lap.

Keigo feels it as he nears you, that comfort that your expression bleeds into his very soul. Even as he watches your healthy hand nervously toy with the thin knit in your lap, it doesn’t dim you.

The lamplight dances in your eyes as you nod to him, “Fancy seeing you here, pretty eyes.” 

“You’d never know it, but I live just down the hallway— me,” He touches his chest proudly, surprised by his own jest. 

You gave a fake gasp, mirroring him easily, “Never knew I had such a well-known soul in my neighborhood. Forgive my transgression.”

Bending at the waist, as much as you can with your right leg extended, straight, you choke on laughter.

Keigo follows you in it, giggling, genuinely giggling, high and light and girlish like he’d never heard from himself before.

He snapped his mouth shut, thickly swallowing and shaking his head.

“No need to be shy,” You assured him with an affectionate turn of the head. “You have a lovely laugh.”

“Now you’re just flirting with me, cute.”

Your head tilted farther, confused, “I’m simply being kind to you.”

Why didn’t he have the snark to reply to that? Probably because he was half-dead and on painkillers for nearly a month. He’d beat himself up about it later, maybe.

There wasn’t an ounce of malice in your tone, just earnestness that tugged at his own insecurities.

You backpedaled. “How was your day?”

Keigo takes a few moments to respond, shaking his head without mind to the way his too-long hair flops in his face. 

The banter isn’t forced, but it’s not welcomed yet.

As comfortable as you feel to him, Keigo isn’t comfortable.

“Same old, same old,” Living hell. “Boring, mostly. Painful, but dull. It’s crazy how much hell smells like cheap disinfectant, huh?” 

You agree, quietly, “I’m pretty sure there’s many hells in this place.”

Keigo doesn’t know how to respond, so he doesn’t. 

You both regard the stars again with growing reverence. Specks of light dance back in your eyes as you both settle into the hard cushions like they were made of goose down and Sherpa. 

...

Your conversations are... disjointed, to say the least. 

There’s an inability for words and phrases to flow between you. There’s starts and stops, stalls like an engine that putters on tarry oil without ever truly firing. There are good feelings, still, safety in silence before words as you stargaze together through the comfort of a window.

It should feel disarming, to be so far from the sky yet have no way to reach it. And it is, but Keigo can swallow the reality these days. It’s easier when there’s someone on the mend close by, sharing in the discomfort of a rawed mind and the comfort of a yellow-toned fluorescent bulb.

It’s unspoken kinship. Keigo never had time for it in the past, but now it was all he had. There had to be some cruel irony in it (as if there wasn’t enough in his life), but he couldn’t make himself mind. 

Everything he’d once excelled at, everything he had was gone. He was barren and stripped (don’t think about it—), exposed to the elements in all the worst ways. At least the hospital was clean and safe, relatively. 

It feels safest with you near.

Sure, your conversations were clearly that of two horribly broken people, but that wasn’t new or surprising. It simply was.

“Do you know constellations?” You ask one night, a colder one, where you’ve got two blankets over your lap. 

Keigo thought for a moment, “A handful, but I never took to stargazing, you know?”

You don’t relate, just chew your lip, the light of the dim lamp dancing across your irises.

“Can I show you some?” 

“...Constellations?”

“What else?” You crack a smile. “Come on, pretty eyes.”

Whatever you’d like, he’d do. 

He can’t refuse, he’s already getting weak for you. 

Shifting, Keigo joins you on your typical couch for the first time. Your IV poles, thrumming and humming their own rhymes harmonize, quietly and mostly imperceptible. 

You regard him even more warmly, so close, a little smile playing on your lips.

“What’s your sign?”

Keigo deadpans, “What?”

“Like... astrology. What’s your sign?”

You wiggle your eyebrows, knowing the double-meaning of your words. 

Flirting again.

Since when had he been so bad at it?

“Capricorn,” He huffs back. He keeps his back off the stone-like cushions of the couch— his scarring had been itchy the whole day prior— so itchy— 

You tap the plastic-y fabric gap between the two of you, grabbing his attention, “Hey, pretty eyes. Stick with me, let me show you where that one is.”

So, you do.

Your light-filled eyes trace the sky’s nighttime freckles, searching until you find what you’re looking for.

“There,” Your finger raises, tracing the patterns in the air. “That’s Capricorn, can you see?”

Not really, the stars are just a meaningless smatter. If there’s some sort of pattern he’s supposed to find, he comes up with none. 

“Not in the slightest,” Keigo rolls his eyes. “Show me again?”

You don’t reply, but rather scoot a bit closer, mirror his hunch and pose with precision and tiny adjustments. 

He doesn’t dare to breathe as you carefully grab his arm, extending it. You lay your cheek over his bicep, watching from the closest view to his own that you could. 

“Do you see now?” 

The only starlight he sees is right in front of him, soft cheek pressed against atrophying muscles. Sharing your heat so graciously as you would so easily come to, you chatter about the stories that are written in the stars, by all cultures, for so long.

Keigo hears, but he’s far more focused on how he wishes you were even closer.

...

After that night, you always share the same couch. 

You face forward, right leg always extended and stiff-looking. Keigo doesn’t mind, hardly notices. He faces you, fragile back bandaged and kept away from the unforgiving grit of the uncomfortable couch. It looks a bit uncomfortable, the posing of it all, but with the words flowing easier, neither of you mind.

You keep showing him stars, the constellations you can remember and see in the night sky. 

Keigo makes fun and crafts his own, connecting new dots and winding stories about them.

“See those three there?” He guides your hand, close enough to share your breath. “That’s the comb of the chicken. Star comb, if you will.”

You snort, rolling your eyes and pulling your hand from his grip, “There’s no cock in the stars, pretty eyes. Chickens can’t fly anyways.”

You both freeze.

Keigo’s mouth goes dry—

Chicken can’t fly.

As much as you’re both learning to be human again, there isn’t talk of your injuries. Maybe, there’s mutual curiosity (you’ve been here two months. just for a broken arm, why?), but like fuck Keigo wants to broach the subject.

“S-sorry,” you stumble over your words, physically retreating. “Shouldn’t have said that.”

It is a fact, chickens can’t fly, but Keigo isn’t a chicken. He’s a debauched, defamed hero whose home is the same set of a milky white, hospital ward walls. Once, a real hero, before the war, before selling his morals just for a chance at rest, before blue flame— burning— 

“Pretty eyes,” Your voice trembles, shaking and lonesome. “Come back here, now. Come on.”

You’re holding his cheeks, unkempt nails pressing (blessedly) a bit too hard into his cheeks. The heat of you is so close, almost scalding him, but he wants more of it, more of the heat that doesn’t burn—

“You’re okay, pretty eyes, s-see?” You hold yourself together, jerking your head to the wide window and glittering stars. “We’re just stargazing.” 

Keigo’s has tears leaking down his face, but neither of you acknowledge them. You release him, quietly spinning another tale about a hero hung in the cosmos. He thanks you for it silently by tugging you into his side. 

(It was the first night you really touched him.)

(The light in your eyes was so close, he wanted it all for himself.)

...

They’re running out of healers to try.

From the weakest to the strongest quirk, no one could revive his dead wings. There was no root to push from the scar tissue, nor resolve left in Keigo to try and make new pins and feathers sprout.

His back isn’t fertile. It’s just as poisoned as the rest of him.

...

He wonders where you disappear to during the day. He takes his strolls then, too. Waves to nurses these days, not charming, just friendly, trying to make a little brightness. 

There’s one day where he asks one of the nurses he knows best for a pair of scissors.

She looks at him, worried, “Don’t tell me we need to put you on psych watch.”

“What? No,” Keigo shakes his head, shaggy hair quivering around the frame of his face. “I just need a bit of a haircut.” 

“... We can ask the Commission to bring someone in—”

“I can do it myself.”

She doesn’t argue with the firmness of his voice, rather, she hands him a pair of safety scissors with bright purple handles. They’re for a child, but Keigo’s fine with that. They’d do. 

When he was younger, and in a pinch (and so poor he tried to eat grass and lick scraps from metallic packaging of discarded junk food wrappers) he’d cut his hair with his own feathers.

Safety scissors would be even easier.

It did mean that he had to confront his own visage, which he had gotten too good at avoiding.

The bathroom in his room is small, it would’ve been claustrophobic if he was still carrying a twenty-five-foot wingspan. 

But, he isn’t. It was just him and the scars on his back that he definitely wasn’t ready to see. 

He’s caught glimpses of himself over the past weeks, but nothing substantial. No view that would’ve given himself time to scrutinize over his imperfection. 

The dull hospital mirror reveals too much about him. It feels too vulnerable, makes his chest tighten, as he stares himself in his ‘pretty eyes’.

Purple stamps below his eyes, probably not from sleeplessness itself, just the sheer exhaustion of living. The one under his left is an odd maroon color, mixing with the scar that is burned into that half of his face.

The skin was once soft, plump cheeks always tended too and well taken care of by expensive skincare products. Now, it’s charred and gaunt. Healing, but still obviously scarred heavy and deep.  The weak beard he’s been growing (accidently) is patchy around the thickened tissue. 

It bothers him— 

It doesn’t look like him in the mirror. 

It helps to take care of himself for the first time in a long while. 

He shaves with the cheap foam and single blade razor they’d given him in the toiletries pack the first days he was there, while he was still numbed out and half-dead. The metal glides over his skin, stripping away the numbness just a little. The stubble and cream slide down the drain and away.

His hair is different. The waves had for so long been pushed back and held that way with the winds of his flights. The longer, feathery patches now hang around his face, dangling down and mingling with the too-long sections that curl over his ears and down his neck.

Wetting his hair, he cuts away what he can. 

It’s blunt, messy, and not elegant. 

All the same, the trim feels good. 

Though, his mood goes sour when the screaming starts for the day.

The far wall of the bathroom was shared by him and his shrieking neighbor, and he took great care to never shower when they were singing their awful chorus. It grates on his ears; he should’ve been a bit empathetic to their suffering, but he didn’t care that much. It was so regular, that the screaming that might’ve once sent each one of his feathers (don’t think about, don’t fucking think about it) sharp as the razor in his hand, didn’t bother him in the slightest.

Just a poke at his temple, a jab and a drop of water that irks him more than anything else.

It is a... somewhat pleasant distraction. He can focus more on his fellow patient than his own haggard appearance, the scar, the lack of red at his back— 

It’s all okay, ‘okay’, until the patient starts babbling.

“M-make it stop!” 

Keigo stills.

A scream tears through the drywall. Even without his wings, it makes him thrum, far-too sensitive.

“Help!” The voice yelps. “HELP!” 

There’s a thud and thump from the other room.

“Please, please!”

Keigo’s heart stutters in his chest, and the razor falls from his hand, clattering into the sink.

“MAKE IT STOP!”

It’s you.

It’s your screaming and shrieking that’s burrowed in his ears. It’s your voice that’s trembling in desperation that has him running out of his room, nearly pulling out his IVs as the pole teeters and follows behind him. 

Why are you screaming?

Why have you always been screaming?

A nurse is trying to stop him, urging him to settle but he can’t. There's an urgency in his chest he hasn’t felt since back before and he has to heed it. He needs to.

He pulls his forearm from the nurse’s grasp, hissing in his own pain, muscles pulling and aching with disuse but he doesn’t care.

The nurses drag him back from your door, and they almost have him, almost have him on the ground.

And then he smells burning—

Cloth.

Flesh.

And something in him snaps.

He clocks the nearest nurse with a tight fist, ignoring his atrophied muscles and kicking with everything he could muster.

They release him, probably out of shock. (He’d been such a model patient, so complacent and quiet until then.) 

Then, he stumbles into your room, and sees you, and wants to die.

...

There’s plenty of times in his life where Keigo felt like an animal. When the Commission first got their hands on him, they took to studying and picking his quirk about to figure out the most efficient way to rebuild it to their needs and uses. Now then, he felt very much like an experiment, only half-human. He was too young to really ‘get’ it, but the feeling persisted.

Sometimes, he felt similarly when he played celebrity. The talk shows, the modeling and media felt hoops he had to jump through just to get a decent night’s sleep. It was an additional job aside from heroics, one he excelled at and entertained him. But that didn’t mean each flash of a camera didn’t suck him dry of a bit of his dignity. 

He was sure you had to be feeling similarly.

You’re writhing and arching in your bed, curls of smoke rising from your papery hospital gown. Every machine in your room is screaming with you, bloody and loud and angry—

And scared. Keigo recognized well, and it drove pins into his heart to realize it was you.

It’s even worse when he realizes some part of you is burning. 

At your bedside, he freezes.

Nylon straps wrap around your wrist, around your cast, and keep you held tight to the bed. You’re tied down, held to the plastic bed frame as you wretch and scream.

You don’t even notice him.

The smoke rises from your burning hospital gown. He rips it away, tears the burning section away with his shaking hand. It’s crass, and Keigo sees a bit too much.  The gauze wrapping your leg below is burning as well, in little veins of char that burns black and smoldering. 

Keigo tears it all away, he tears and tears—

And then he sees the wound.

He was trained, once, to see this type of horror and not bat an eye. That training was gone, and all that remained was his starshine with a writhing, molten wound.

Keigo is numb as the nurses drag him back to his room, trying to decide if he prefers the apathy and numbness to injury that his old heroism gave him, or the blinding pain of empathy when someone you... care about is hurt.

He can’t decide which he’d rather suffer with. 

...

You appear in the common room a few nights later.

Keigo still takes his walks in the late evening, even if you aren’t there. If anything, he needs them more. He’s restless, always listening for the screams or howls from the next room over. His annoyance towards them was gone, and all that remained was a concern that knotted in the pit of his stomach. 

There’s a sigh of relief on his lips when he finds you, nestled into a pile of blankets with your IV pole, watching the stars with sad eyes.

He joins you on your couch, cracking a decent joke that you don’t respond to.

Then, there’s silence.

It’s as loud as the stars are bright. The expanse of sound is filled by the hum of the cold air and distant beeping.

“I’m sorry,” Your voice shakes. “You shouldn’t have seen me like that. It’s not... Easy to look at. Or, I imagine it’s not.”

Keigo wants to rip the apology from your tongue and burn it.

“No, please, it’s alright,” He’s begging too much. “I get it.”

As much as he can, anyways.

You’re quiet again, biting your lip so hard it must be close to breaking skin.

“Can we... talk about things?” You ask, softer. “I can’t keep pretending.”

“...’Pretending’?” Keigo knows, but he selfishly wants to hear you say it.

“Well, you didn’t think I’ve been here for two months for my bum arm, right?” You laugh weakly. “And I’m well-aware that you don’t have wings.”

We just don’t talk about it. 

“It’s nicer to look at the stars and pretend everything’s fine,” Keigo lays the statement down and regrets it.

Your fist tightens, jaw clenching.

And there’s more silence.

It’s deafening to Keigo, he wants to speak, scream, but you’re quiet next to him. He can fill voids with his voice so, so easily, yet he turns in on himself.

“I know, it’s all hard,” Tears drip down from your words, though your cheeks remain dry. “I know, but there was a War two months ago, and we’re still holed up in a place like this, and we never talk about why.”

You turn to him, light dancing slowly in your eyes. Your lips part to speak, but no sound comes out.

“... I didn’t want to ask.” Keigo speaks, gaze shifting down to your leg. He questioned why a broken arm would keep you here, but you can’t just ask that. “It’s bad form to ask a stranger about their injuries unnecessarily when they’re traumatized.”

“But we’re not strangers, not anymore.”

Keigo can’t disagree. 

...

You had been in a conbini when Gigantomakia tore through your little suburb. It was a few miles away, but the ground shook as if the goliath was just outside the automatic doors.

Your demon was near, though.

It was a man from the PLF who tore into you so badly. Just some random, emboldened civilian who ascribed to Destro’s ideology hard enough to think about taking out his frustrations on ‘weaker-quirked’ individuals.

That meant the young couple getting slushies in the corner, the old man behind the cash register, and you.

(You’d told your roommate you’d be home quick to help her study—)

(Your roommate is dead, under several tons of rubble.)

“The old man died before the heroes even started trying to rescue anyone. The couple was begging each other to hold on, but only one of them lasted. He died within a few weeks of being taken here.”

There was just you.

You’d hardly been touched by the man, the fucking villain, who’d set his mark on you. But it was more than enough to leave a writhing scar.

Keigo asks to see it, and quietly, you oblige him.

You’re in a gown, you always have been. The hem of it is pulled up by your visibility shaking fingers, and slowly reveals the scar in the lowlight of the ever-present lamp. He’d seen it once, but that didn’t change how startling it was. 

It’s molten.

The skin is gnarled, twisting and scarred worse than anything Keigo’s ever seen. It was like the gore of a torn flesh was frozen over your right side, from your calf, to your thighs to your pretty hips—

“It goes higher, but that’s not exactly couth to show you,” you joke, but neither of you laugh. 

“... It’s not moving anymore?”

“Oh, yeah. It calms down, when it’s dark. Nighttime and all. It stops being so ornery.” 

Keigo has a laundry list of questions, but with the expression on your face that just bleeds exhaustion into the air, and the fresh burns from the restraints on your wrists, he keeps quiet. 

Maybe, three months ago, he’d jabber on about the injury, try to gode some information out on the villain, profile him, track him and beat the tar out of him for touching you—

But this is the present, and Keigo is a wingless soul. All he has is a prescription for painkillers on a rigid schedule, and the awareness that you both appreciate each other.

Keigo scoots to your uninjured side, lifting his arm up and around your shoulder. It hurts, it fucking hurts, but he doesn’t mind.

You tense for a moment, turning to him with wide eyes, scared like he’s never seen.

Then, you melt into him.

...

Keigo’s busy with healers the week, though none speak his language, literally. They’re international, foreign aid that’s been flown in to try to pick up the disaster of a society that’s been left in the wake of the War and the dissolution of Tartarus.

None of them make progress. 

As much as it burns (haha) him to his core, he’s accepting the reality, slowly but surely. 

...

Endeavor visits him.

It’s the morning after a particularly sweet night with you. You still sit together in the starlight, though you’ve run out of constellations to show him. It’s less quiet than it used to be, just little banter that flows between the two of you. It feels more genuine than his old bluntness, welcome after so much odd tension when you first started enjoying the heat of each other’s presence and the far-off stars.

You’d taken to spending time together during the day as well... As much as you could. Strapping you to your bed was for your own safety. Your broken arm had snapped the first few days at the hospital because of the severity of your spasms and flares. The nurses keep you wrapped up, but Keigo drags a chair close to your bed and talks to you as much as he can.

It helps you relax.

Though the days fill with tension as you try to negate the inevitability of your molten scar coming to life, nights remain calm.

And so, so sweet.

You’ve taken to tucking into his side, telling him little treasured facts about the cosmos. It’s easier to guide his eyes like that, as your cheek rests over his collarbone. 

It lingers with him, the feeling of your casual touch, so tentatively offered and so graciously received.

He traces his own constellations over your gown, mindful of the flesh beneath that heats beneath his palm when he gets too close.

After one of those wonderful, early nights, Enji Todoroki enters his room with all of the gusto one would expect. Which is not very much, but the sheer presence of him is enough to make Keigo quake.

 Just like the little boy from Kyushu, Keigo regards him with stars in his eyes. 

The hero, not a speck of flame on him (thank god) pulls up a chair near his bed. Keigo sits cross-legged and cocks his head to the side.

“What brings you to my neck of the woods, number one?” Keigo smiles.

“Number fifteen.”

“... What?”

“Since my injuries, I’m mostly on bedrest,” Enji replied, folding his hands on his chin. “I’m number fifteen now, and that number will more than likely just drop. I’m not much of a hero with only one lung. I’m planning to officially retire at the end of the month.”

Keigo’s chest goes tight and it feels like he’s joking. He tosses on a tight smile. 

“This is hardly time for a pillar—“

“I’m no pillar. I never was,” Enji sighs, running a hand over his scarred cheek. “The kids can handle this.”

Keigo breaks so easily these days.

“That’s not fair—” He had been tossed into this all too early and god it fucked him up— 

“Hawks,” Enji sighed. “There’s hardly anyone left to fight. They’re either dead, missing part of themselves, or gone.”

“So, you’re giving up?”

“If I didn’t, I’d die.”

Coward.

No, just honest and smart. 

“Since when are you this selfish?” Keigo’s own words surprise him, but he doesn’t back down. “And this wordy, number one? You’ve changed.”

He spits the last phrase like an insult. He hates himself for it and would hate himself even more for it later. 

Enji’s face remains solid and unwavering. The twitch in his brow is the only indication that Keigo’s words were even heard. 

“Since we lost, Keigo. Things have changed.”

Keigo knew, of course, but it didn’t stop the anger from rolling his belly.

“Oh, like I don’t fucking know,” If Keigo still had his wings, they would’ve been extended and fluffed, angry as the pinched skin of his forehead. 

This was his hero, he couldn’t be giving up too— 

“Rest, Hawks,” Enji stand up, “You deserve it.”

Seems Endeavor really died. Enji’s face is worn, his expression neutral and jaw slack. He looks hollowed out and empty, not an ounce or morsel of fight left in him, even for a flightless bird in need of some encouragement. 

There’s more to be said, but Keigo’s too angry to listen and Enji doesn’t have the energy to try. 

Whatever news the old hero had come to bring was left undelivered. 

...

You settle together the next few nights, both so damn tired, even though you’ve done nothing other than lay around a hospital for so-many weeks. 

The air always vibrates between the two of you, that comfortable warmth shared between mingling breath and senses. Light dances in your eyes, twisting and bouncing like something otherworldly.

(Maybe it is.)

Your fingers lace together, held in Keigo’s lap. You trace the others hand in relaxing little lines and shapes, trying to soothe each other’s wounds, always.

“One of the doctors said the scar might start shrinking,” You break the tender silence, nosing into his jaw in the same way an affectionate cat would. “They’re not entirely sure, but it’s been stable for a few days.”

Keigo’s feathery (don’t think about it) eyebrows shot up, “That’s amazing, and there’s only a few spasms this week, too.”

(He kept good tabs on you, he had to.)

You hummed in agreement, a sad smile playing on your lips as it so often did.

With a quick blink, the light bouncing in your eyes faded, and the world felt a bit colder.

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do when I get out of here,” You pressed closer to him. “There’s shelters, and some cities are taking refugees, but I don’t—”

Your jaw clicks shut, brow furrowed and mood soured.

(Keigo, mind you, is still focusing on the lack of light in your eyes and the chill of the air in the room.) 

Something stirs, deep in his gut, but he doesn’t say anything. How Keigo used to have such a mouth, he didn’t know. These days, all he can is act, like somehow the loss of his wings came with the loss of his tongue.

Tugging you by the waist, mindful of the tender scar, he pulls you close, internally resolving.

...

She, the main Suit, visits him.

(It’s his last visitor at the hospital.)

There are no trumpeters, guards, or the like. It’s just the haggard president, matching Keigo with his dark circles and creased with new wrinkles and far-more grey sections in her slicked back hair.

The air stands still as she pulls up a chair, burying her head in her hands.

She, the Main Suit, has never been one to inquire as to how he is. Many of the others at the Commission were sweet, kind to him in youth, but she was all business. 

Some things never change.

She breaks the silence of the room, “... do you want to be done, Hawks?”

The cords in his chest tighten, gaze going sharper.

He doesn’t answer.

They meet each other’s gazes; twenty years of fucked-up emotion being shared between the pair of them.

“We’ve done everything. Every healer, every quirk, every treatment, conventional or otherwise,” she’s too soft. “There’s nothing left to try.”

He knew that, he had to know that, right?

His throat feels sticky as he swallows down bile, the scars on his back burning anew. It’s somatic, it has to be, but his flesh crawls and writhes just like yours. His starshine. He hates the way his mind is racing, just as fast as it always has, but his body lacks the ability to keep up.

He grounds himself in the thought of you, his starshine. Your body. Your heat. 

His narrow pupils refocus on the light tremble in her shoulders. 

“I’m being honest, so I’ll ask again,” She meets his gaze, grey eyes as soulless and full as ever. “Do you want to be done?”

“Well, obviously I can't fight—” 

“I mean it. All of it, Hawks. Maybe a few media appearances, but all this... shit. You’ve done enough.”

You’ve done enough. 

The words bounce around in his skull.

“Do you want to be done?”

Done with being a hero.

That’s all he’d ever been, right? That is him, he is Hawks, for fuck’s sake, no one other than Dabi (may he rot and die and immolate in hell) even called him his actual name in years.

Keigo is Hawks.

His mouth is dry, and he tries to ignore the tears pricking his eyes. He’s not sure why he’s beginning to cry, and definitely not sure why tension is draining from his shoulders as he sighs out an answer.

“I’ll be done.”

You’ve done enough.

...

Hospital beds are a hot commodity, and now that Keigo had thrown in the towel (along with everyone else) to stop trying with his wings, he was to be discharged within a few days.

(“Just a few more days to adjust your body to your new medications—”)

He’d stopped listening after that.

...

Your last night together is so bittersweet, you taste it on each other’s tongues.

You have an episode early in the day. Your screaming wakes the floor, the burning smell of flesh cementing that it was you.

Keigo’s only half-lucid when he shoves into your room, holding your hands while nurses desperately try to administer pain medication.

It’s too much for you, the crawling edges of the scar once again consuming you in the molten, glowing amber veins of heat that tore through you so terribly.

You sleep the day away. Keigo stays with you for much of it, stroking the bones in the back of your hands. 

...

He fucks you for the first time, that night. 

His own IVs have been removed, he’s to be discharged first thing in the morning—

And he wants one more night of stargazing, please, please—

(Why’s he clutching at you so dearly?) 

But you’re not in the common room. 

Rather, you’re under a few thin blankets, eyes tired and lightless. Your arm is out of its cast, laying over the bed clothes. It scares him shitless at first as he tentatively enters. It’s you though, and the moment you see him, it’s like a flame, a good one, heats the room full and wide. A few specks of light dance in between your irises as your skin crinkles in a gentle smile.

You both know he’s leaving tomorrow.

The knowledge settles in the room like a weight that neither of you can move. So, Keigo takes to it and does what he can.

As opposed to his normal perch next to his bed, he sits beside you, removing the restraints on your wrists and helping you to sit up.

Keigo fishes around in his pocket, pulling out a folded square of paper and placing it at your bedside. It’s his phone number, an odd detail. Relationships usually shared far-earlier.

But there is nothing linear or normal about the two of you, or the situation you both sit and stewed in.

You both are making peace with it at your own pace.

The bed creaks as you move to sit beside him, legs dangling from the bed. There’s gooseflesh beneath your gown, the boring pattern obscured by the darkness of the room, but the molten lines of the scar ever-visible.

“I’m glad you’re getting out of here.”

But I wish that you weren’t leaving.

His hand finds your waist, careful like he always is, but so giving in the same breath. 

“I am too. It’ll be nice to be.”

But I’m going to miss you.

It’s inherent, and has been forever. Since the moment you both stargazed in the common room and watched the worlds high above twist and shine without regard to your own hells, you’ve been ensnared in the other and neither of you have a want or need to let go.

Even with the inevitably of progress.

Keigo drowns in these thoughts, and has been since Endeavor visited and he was reminded of the harsh reality just outside of their tree-ringed prison. The reality he has to return to—

He presses his lips to yours, more desperate and needy than he had before.

Keigo had taken his share of you before, little pecks and the rub of the bridge of his nose over your jaw and cheeks. He had been a bit greedier with his hands, uncaring of the eyes of the night nurses when he’d touched you in the common room.

But he’s insatiable that last night.

The sheets of the plastic bed are too scratchy, they’re too harsh for you, and it burns Keigo to his core as he lowers you down. He cradles what he can, as your fingers latch onto his clothes (real clothes) and tug him as close as you can get.

The machines in your room cry, but they’re forgotten. 

You nip at his bottom lip, dragging yours across his clean-shaven jaw before laying into his neck with kiss after kiss. His muscles shake, holding him over you, both of you atrophied but uncaring.

You suck a deep, throbbing bruise on the fragile skin of his neck. It’s something dark that won’t fade for a week. The thought stirs something in his chest, a white-hot feeling that wants to crack his ribs and consume him. He doesn’t give in, he can’t—

“Stay with me, pretty eyes,” you whisper, so sweet and gentle as you push floppy strands of hair from his face. “Stay here, just for a little while longer.”

The reminder jolts him back, back to you, and the way your body (so tired, but unwavering) jumps and rolls under his touch. He’s a glutton for attention, always has been, but your particular brand and sounds keep pulse hot and hard. 

Shaky fingers pull his shirt over his head, sweaty palms push the gown over your hips. By the starlight, you’re both seeing too much of each other, but this is a goodbye, there’s no time to dwell on the discomfort.

Keigo tries to be careful as he adjusts your legs, tries to be mindful of the raw skin and flesh that makes you whine and half-writhe. You clutch at him, still trying to pull him closer despite the proximity and heat, like you need him as opposed to just wanting him. 

There’s no fanfare in it, just more rushed kisses and the swirling of fingertips over covered clit. You catch each other’s gasps in the mingling of breaths you share. It’s choking, suffocating, yet entirely not enough. You beg, quietly, for more. Your fingers latch onto his wrist and urge him to help pull your panties off and away.

More, more, more. 

By the time he slides into you, you're still tense, but so is he, and in a pile of tension and fear and wishful-thinking, you both come undone, and undone, and undone— 

...

Keigo leaves the next morning. 

The press is there, flash bulbs blinding him after so long with just fluorescents and starlight. He manages an easy wave or two, no autographs or gleaming smiles, just business and numbness that he needed to hold onto, so he didn’t fucking break.

He slips into the Commission’s car and leaves behind the hospital, you, and its wall of man-laid greenery and prays to forget it all quickly. He has enough to mourn. 

...

Keigo wants to off himself when he arrives back at his penthouse. 

How can he not?

His ‘home’ (if he couldn’t even call it that) is a dusty, time capsule of everything before. Before he got fucked up with the League, before the PLF, before the war, before Jin—

Every untouched bit of his life from when it was a few, precious fractions better stands unturned. A discarded jacket, wing slits visible and frayed. Scattered dead feathers that make his skin crawl. Memorabilia too, old merchandise that he never cared much about, but he definitely didn’t need to be seeing it now that ‘Hawks’ had burned up and died. 

All disgusting reminders. 

Something burning fills the base of his skull when his gaze fixates on one of the old plumes. He reaches out to touch the spine of it, instinctually expecting a little jolt of feeling from it, like he always had. 

But there’s nothing. It’s dead, decaying, and so is he. 

The reality of it breaks him, quick, hard and hot. He burns alive a second time. 

He clears the liquor cabinet while blaring music from his over-priced stereo system loud enough to make his ears ache and throb. The music isn’t drowning anything out, but it’s better to pretend.

He finds a bottle of old pills and downs them with a few swigs of expensive whiskey and lets go.

...

When he comes to, he’s staring into a smashed mirror, with his own nails crusted in blood from thin welts in the skin of the scar on his face.

Much to his chagrin, he hasn’t forgotten anything. The memories of blue flames, red feathers, and the smell of your skin mixed with isopropyl alcohol feel brighter than ever. He grounds on them as he sobers up, latching onto the pain of his scar tissue and the solace you gave. 

And won’t ever give him again.

Something in him wilts as he defeatedly goes to his phone, arranging any number of things to get him the fuck out.

...

The penthouse is sold, his more important belongings gathered in bland boxes. 

And he leaves. There’s no sentiment holding him there, not anymore.  

Fukuoka is gone and some distant memory as he drives (yes, he forgot that he had that skill) him and his things to his new home.

His penthouse had been immaculate. Crisp interior design, new shapes and colors that were on trend. He was hardly home to appreciate the modern beauty of it, but he’d received enough compliments from random hookups to know that it landed aesthetically.

But honestly?

Who the fuck cared?

His penthouse had been sold to the highest bidder and far behind as he arrives at his new, high home in the sleekness of his far-too fancy, disused car.

...

...

He gets a call from an unknown number, another one, on some snowy day, deep in winter. 

Keigo debates answering it. He almost lets it slip to voicemail. The only calls worth answering are the handful from the Commission that he has to heed, or the odd one from Rumi, Fuyumi, and on occasion, Endeavor.

Not random numbers, he has no patience for it. 

Yet, he answers it lazily.

“Washed up hero, how can I help you?”

“P-Pretty eyes?”

His heart stutters in his chest, he swears— 

“Starshine?” He sounds breathless, the air leached from his chest as he white-knuckles his thighs.

He’d given up on you contacting him, yet there you were, or at least your voice, mechanical and high bouncing around preciously in the walls of the cabin

There’s a moment of silence, nearly, just your light breathing that receiver picks up.

Your voice trembles when you break it, “Y-yeah, it’s me, I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to call—”

You don’t need to be sorry; he would wait for you forever, and then some. 

“I d-don’t actually have a phone? Mine got trashed, uh, back then. I’m on the hospital’s line.”

Keigo hadn’t really considered that, he’s slipped the paper with his number on your bedside without a thought. 

How much had you lost?

“No worries, chickadee,” Keigo is sure his smile is audible. “Why call now? Miss me too much?”

He had no idea.

You laugh, though it soured as you spoke, “I get discharged tomorrow.”

Keigo’s heart seizes again and he’s sure he’s going to go into cardiac arrest.

“The guy who gave me the scar and all? He fucked up a few other people, word eventually got here. Once the scar stops... glowing, it rests. If you make it until then, you’re good.”

And alive.

“The whole injury is stable, has been for a week now,” Surprisingly, there’s no relief in your voice. “They need my bed, so they’re releasing me.”

No, no, no.

Where will you go?

Keigo doesn’t say it, but the question hangs in the air and is quickly answered.

“They got me a spot in one of the shelters close by... It’s only a couple hours by train!” You try to sound happy, but it’s so hollow and unnatural; it makes Keigo physically sit up.

No, no, no.

That won’t do.

“... What won’t do?” 

Keigo hadn’t realized he’d said it out loud.

Something is buried in his chest, something warm and molten, like the old veins of your scar, just kinder and better. It’s full of urges, so seldom used, selectively as needed throughout his career as a hero.

The need to keep something precious safe. 

The thing hasn’t thrashed in months.

Yet now? It’s practically screaming.

“Pretty eyes?” You sound scared through the phone. “A-Are you alright? I can call back—”

“No, don’t, do not.” Keigo lets the flame fill his chest, welcoming it. “You’re not going to that shelter.”

He has something to protect.

“I don’t have another choice—”

Someone.

“You do.” Keigo keeps his voice even, the muscles in his back writhing. If he still had his wings, they’d be puffed out and large. Impassioned with feeling he finally let breath between his ribs. “I’ll come get you, tomorrow.”

“... P-Pardon?”

He doesn’t hesitate, and for a moment, he starts to feel like his old self. 

“Come home with me, starshine.”

++++++

thank you for reading, hope you enjoyed!! 💗

look out for parts 2 and 3!!!💞

ko-fi

#salem writes #hawks x reader #hawks #takami keigo #takami keigo x reader #hawks x you #takami keigo x you #hawks fanfic #hawks imagines #my hero academia #mha x reader #anyways tag wall #enjoy loves #smorch

[angry-geese]

Blood Ties - Chapter Ten: The Shibuya Incident IV

soulmate au Choso x Reader

Warnings: graphic depictions of violence and injury, blood and gore, swearing.

Word Count: 3.2k

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"How do you know?" Yuji asks.

"If you're asking for proof, I don't got it," you say, "I'm going off a hunch, and the fact he knew there were mutated humans down in B5F."

"When- how did you talk to him?"

"He called me when we first split up with Mei Mei." You say. "You know when I ran off to the bathroom?"

"But-"

"The curtain? I know." You shrug. "Lucky break. I guess. You saw what happened when we took it out. It wasn't a normal barrier."

“And you didn't… tell anyone?” He asks.

“No? It wasn't important at the time.” You say, before quickly realizing how bad that sounds. “Look, I fucking panicked, okay? I’m sorry. You can be mad at me all you want once we get Gojo out of that box. My family issues are the least of our worries right now!”

Yuji pauses.

Part of you wants him to get angry. Not that you intend to strike a nerve, but yelling is easier to deal with than silence. You can't quite read the look behind his eyes. Maybe that's what bothers you most.

“We’ll be okay.” He says. “You know that, right?”

“I don't plan on dying, if that's what you’re implying.” You say.

It's another moment before he responds. Yuji’s silence ignites some deep anxiety within you. You sit on the bottom step, elbows resting on your knees. It doesn't take long for your limbs to grow fatigued and stiff. You know that, if given the chance, you could pass out right here. Those attacks took far more out of you than expected. You’re not sure how much you have left in you. But it's enough. You have no other option than it being enough. You tug your hood up over your head to help fight off the chilly night air.

Yuji sits next to you. You loop the string of fate around your fingers.

This time it tugs back.

Some nights—ones where you found yourself unable to sleep—you’d pull on it. It was often. Not that you were a heavy sleeper before, but it feels like your mind has been sent into overtime. There’s no calming it. Whoever is on the other end would pull back. And though you have no concept of who, or even where they are, in that moment you felt connected to them. You figure if you annoy them enough, you’ll give them a taste for what they're getting themselves into. But really it makes you feel sad, and sometimes alone. And when you feel that you bury yourself in work because that’s a whole lot more bearable than facing everything around you. Because you’re not alone when you’re working, and even when you are, there's still things to do to take your mind off it.

In these past few weeks you’ve seen more change than you have in years. You don't like change. A frog that's put into a pot of boiling water will jump out, but if they’re put into a pot of water on the stove turned on high they won't notice it's boiling until it's too late. If you're not drowning, you’re going to boil.

And you’re not going to leap out of that pot because you won't notice it's boiling until you’re dead.

The station is empty. To your right is a small booth. All but two of the lights have gone out. Trash is scattered about. There's an awful smell. The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. As far as residuals go, you don't detect many. You've seemingly grown used to the constant presence. It's just barely tolerable.

At least you're alone, and you have cell service. James’ phone is on 5%. If you’re gonna use it, you better make it count.

Should you call him again? You have cell service. There's no way of knowing if he does. Well, there's one way.

4%.

“We’re going to find your brother.” He says. “And we’re going to help Gojo-Sensei! And we’re all going home in one piece because there's no other option!”

It's now, or not at all.

“I'm gonna call him.” You say. “If I-”

You don't know why you want to. It's more of a need than a want. A need to know. You need to know he's okay.

“Do it.” Yuji says. “I’ll be right by your side.”

The phone rings three times before he picks up. His voice comes through clear this time.

“Where are you?” He asks.

“No clue.” You say. “Shibuya I guess. I can't say. I'm not really the best with directions.”

“Please tell me you aren't with-”

“Yuji Itadori?”

He’s silent for a moment before saying: “fuck! Okay, change of plans,

"If you aren't suicidal I suggest you turn back. Or get as far away from him as you can. There’s two curses and a sorcerer on their way to kill you. One really wants you dead.”

Who the hell did you piss off? You’re not sure. You've beaten up a lot of people in the past month.

“Fun! Definitely not the last thing I wanted to hear!” You say.

“Look,” he says, “I’ve been trying to find you before they do. But you aren't making it very easy.”

“What happened to your tough-guy attitude, huh?” You ask.

“I know you’re just saying that to be an asshole, but,” he sucks in a breath, “I used to think I only had it in me to worry about myself. When they asked me to hunt you down, I guess I finally caved.”

So he's scared?

“They?”

“You need to know something about this one guy,” he says, “Choso- kind of a weird looking guy, has pig-tails and a tattoo across his nose,

“I've worked with him in the past. I don't know how to put this so I’m going to come right out and say it: your red string ends where his begins. You two are-”

“Soulmates.” You say. “And he’s going to try to kill me?”

“Yep.”

“Huh.”

He says another small “yep” before falling silent.

How does one even start that conversation? You doubt you can just walk up and introduce yourself. Everyone you’ve talked to says you’ll know them when you see them. That it's instinct. That your soul can tell who your soulmate is.

“I guess I should tell you about his cursed technique,” James says, “blood manipulation; self explanatory. An innate technique found in those in the Kamo family, valued for its use in close, mid, and ranged combat. He weaponises his blood.”

“And how is this supposed to help me?”

“It's not. As far as weaknesses go, I don't know any. You’re going to have to trip him up somehow. That's where you come in.” He says. “You are going to be one of the best people at stopping him. If you can convince him that you’re his soulmate, he’ll likely spare you.”

“So we’ve just gotta trip him up? I think we can manage that.”

“Look, I’m on my way.” He says. “I’ll see you soon. I love you.”

There’s a dial tone on the other end before the phone shuts off. Dead.

“So there's more people after us?” Yuji asks.

“Three,” you say, “four if you count my brother. I know you don't know him, but trusting him might be our best chance at getting home alive.”

That's when someone shouts your name.

Yuji watches the blood drain from your face. You refuse to raise your gaze from the ground.

The voice itself isn't familiar, but it gives you an odd sense of deja-vu. It's as if it's shaken you to your very core. Your very soul is disturbed.

Your feet are moving before your brain is telling them too. Something in the back of your mind is screaming at you to run. It's more instinct than conscious thought. Some part of you knows that if you don't move now, you will die.

The arrow comes down hard on the ground to your left, sending a spray of dirt and rocks up into your face. Momentarily you’re blinded. A gritty texture fills your mouth. The saliva you spit out is stained dark.

The next hit you’re able to deflect with your blade, directing it up, into the ceiling. It pings off the flat part of your sword, shooting straight up. The force is enough to make you nearly lose your grip on Grimsever.

He’s only a few yards away from you. Choso. You get the feeling you should know this guy. Everything about him feels familiar. From the way he stands, to the way he dresses, to the sound of his voice. Deja vu. You have a sense of belonging but it's quickly overridden by a primal sense of fear.

There’s no way you’re faster than his piercing blood attack. Run all you like, but you can't outrun it. From the little you’ve seen, it can change it's trajectory at the last second. It starts out fast, it's speed wavering off quickly. Raw strength alone, you’re at best evenly matched.

“There’s something I want to ask you two,” Choso says, “did my younger brothers leave any final words with you?”

“Younger brothers?” You ask.

You look at Yuji, as if you’re searching for reassurance, but he looks as confused as you. Something about his confusion makes terror sink within you.

Choso clicks his tongue, taking a step towards you. Instinctively you flinch. The string of fate seems to burn. Your hand hurts. It feels hot. Something in your chest convulses and you’re pretty sure it's your heart.

“I'm talking about the two you killed.” Choso says. “Eso and Kechizu.”

You freeze. He watches the blood drain from your face.`

Yeah. You definitely killed those guys. There's not really any denying it. And you all know it.

It's as if you're back under that bridge. You’re confused and angry. Mostly angry. You’ve been thrown into a world not meant for you and you’re doing what you can to keep your head above water. An ache settles deep in your chest when your eyes meet his. They’re cold. Calm and collected. Stark contrast to yours, which are filled with fear. At a dead end when it comes to finding your brother. All that's there for you is a dead phone and people trying to kill you.

“Not… really,” Yuji says, stepping between you two, “but they did cry.”

Choso’s eyes shrink down to pinpricks.

He’s keeping his distance from Yuji, almost as if he knows his attack has a short range. If you risk another ranged attack, it's a 50/50 chance it kills you here. Those odds aren't too bad. You’d take the risk if you could guarantee a hit. But unlike Choso’s blood manipulation, you can't change the direction of it at the last second. You can hardly choose the direction it goes in at all.

However, if Yuji can turn this into a fistfight, he’ll surely win.

He’s no less than ten yards from you. Though he’s not moving, you have the feeling that, if you move, you will die. Yuji is bleeding- or is it your blood? There's too many thoughts rattling around in your head, it's getting hard to focus.

Soulmate or not, you’ll rock this guy's shit.

If you can just get into a blind spot.

Despite being able to change the trajectory of his piercing blood at the last second, Yuji is faster. This technique is only fast at the beginning. If he can dictate when the arrow is shot, he just might be able to dodge it. Even if it changes directions, he’ll still be able to get in close.

The next arrow aims for Yuji’s head. At the last second he ducks, bolting straight for Choso. You flank him on the left. Yuji takes his right. In favor of taking a swing, you swing your foot into his back, shoving him towards Yuji. He’s staggered. But only for a moment. Yuji’s first punch connects, but it's blocked. Choso’s arms absorb most of the force. It's far from lethal, but it sounds like it hurts.

From his belt he pulls a knife, sinking it into Yuji’s foot. You watch as Yuji tenses up. His reaction hardly lasts longer than a moment. Beads of blood gather around Choso. You get the impression it's another form of blood manipulation.

While you’re distracted, he hurls the knife right for you. The flat of your blade catches it, knocking it aside. The blood condensed by convergence is released, and subsequently shot out in all directions like buckshot. Hundreds of little beads rips through your body, littering your arms with pinprick wounds. You bring your blade up to shield your face, protecting your eyes. The metallic taste of blood fills your mouth- your teeth have sunk into the flesh of your cheek. A scream threatens to rip from your throat, but you bite your tongue.

“You know those orbs he makes before the beam?” Yuji asks. “Help me stop them!”

You loop the string of fate around your wrist, tugging hard. Choso stumbles, but his attention never turns from Yuji.

The next arrow strikes him straight in the stomach. Yuji predicts the hit before it happens and thus is able to reinforce that part of his body with cursed energy. Whether this is on purpose, or done by instinct, you can't tell. It hardly breaks the skin, let alone causes any damage, but it’ll leave a bruise.

“Hey! Hey!” Mechamaru calls out. “What’s going on?”

“Where the hell have you been?!” You snap.

“Conserving energy. I still need to do something.” He says.

You scoff.

“Right. Choso! Blood manipulation!” Mechamaru says. “You know it?”

“A little.” You say.

“Blood manipulation is one of the treasured cursed techniques passed down through the Kamo family line. Whether it's for close, mid, or long range combat, it's prized for its overall usefulness.” Mechamaru explains.

So he was right.

“I know.” You say. “What's it's weakness?”

“None that I know of.” Mechamaru says, eliciting a small, irritated sounding “fuck!” from you. “And Choso isn't going to suffer from blood loss. He effectively had no weakness. Aside from info,

“Retreat to the bathroom!”

Too tired to argue, you comply. In the time it takes Choso’s shock to wear off, you have a head start.

“I'm not sure if this is a weak point but I have an idea. I'd say there's about a ten percent chance this works. I'm sorry, but if this plan fails,” Mechamaru says, “please die gracefully. At this rate you’ll both be killed.”

You ask whatever higher power is out there to let you die with a weapon in hand.

“How do you feel about property damage?” Mechamaru asks.

You’re put in charge of breaking the sprinklers on the ceiling, Yuji wrenches whatever pipes he can from the wall. In a matter of seconds the bathroom is drenched. You’re soaked to the bone, doused with freezing water.

“That was your last chance,” Choso’s voice echoes through the bathroom, barely audible over the rushing of water, “you two have nowhere to run.”

He stands at the entrance of the bathroom, Yuji between the two of you. He’s not outwardly taking an offensive stance, so you rule out an attack. He clutches something in his hand, though it's impossible to see what it is from this distance. But he is studying you. And you in particular.

“There's something in his hand!” You call out.

Cradled in his hand, taking great care as to not expose it to any water, is blood imbued and compressed to it's very limit.

The moment the arrow makes contact with your shoulder, your vision goes white.

It doesn't hurt until you look down. Though the entry point is pretty clean, there's a lot of blood. There's so much blood. Blood mixes with water turning the puddle at your feet a bright shade of pink. The front of your uniform is stained dark. The world begins to spin. Your arm doesn't want to work. You sway on your feet, bile threatening to force its way up your throat. Someone screams—probably Yuji—as you fall to your knees and retch.

You’re back on your feet. You don't remember standing.

When you turn, Yuji’s face has gone white. You want to scream. You want to run. That's really all you want to do. Every cell in your being is screaming at you to run.

Turn all that fear- all that negative emotion into cursed energy. It gathers in your chest, coursing down your sword arm, into your blade. It makes you feel renewed. The pain makes your attacks stronger, more potent.

Even if it means dying. Even if it means killing your soulmate. You'll stop him. You’ll take him down. All that matters is Yuji’s survival.

“I don't have to be the one to rescue Gojo-sensei,” Yuji says, “and neither do you. But I want you to warn the others. Someone needs to be left to help him.”

“And leave you? I reckon we could both take him…” You say, although mostly to protect your pride. You grow weaker with each passing moment.

In the end, Yuji is deemed the bigger threat.

Yuji grabs you by the collar, pulling you into the nearest stall, slamming the door shut and locking it. You almost ask him if he really thinks this will work. He backs you against the far wall of the stall. There's hardly enough room for the two of you. He smells faintly of blood, and sweat.

You gather your cursed energy in your blade. With your off-arm weakened, your hits won't be as strong. Grimsever is small enough to be wielded in one hand, though with some difficulty. Choso likely assumes your other arm is too injured to be used. And he wouldn't be wrong. It's numb from the elbow down. You can't move your fingers. Blood pours out of the entry point in a steady stream. If you don't do something to staunch the bleeding, you’ll die of blood loss before Choso can get to you. You doubt it hit anything vital, but you aren't a doctor. What do you know?

Not a moment later the stall door is kicked open.

You jab the tip of Grimsever into Choso’s stomach. The resulting wave of cursed energy is enough to make him stagger, but not enough to do any fatal damage. He easily wrenches it out of your hand, tossing it behind him. The blade hits the opposite wall, clattering to the ground. You bring up your left fist to catch him across the jaw. He hardly stumbles. It's like hitting a brick wall.

You’re not sure when you fall. Maybe Choso pushed you? The water beneath you turns pink. A metallic smell hangs low in the air. The world fades in and out of view. You shiver, although you can't tell if it's from the cold, or the blood loss. Your hands find the ground in some feeble attempt to get yourself to stand. There’s a crunch as Choso’s punch connects, and Yuji’s body makes contact with the far wall.

Someone screams. Probably you. His body hits the ground with a thud.

You throw your body over Yuji's smaller form, curling around him, as if you'll be able to stop any more attacks. You choke down ragged breaths in a desperate attempt to regain your bearings. Like your head has finally found a break in the waves. But the action of filling your lungs provides no relief.

His eyes are cold as he approaches you, circling you slowly.

"When you get to the other side," Choso says, "be sure to ask for my brother's forgiveness."

#choso x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #choso kamo x reader #choso #jjk #blood ties #cw blood #cw swearing #cw violence

[alphabravocharliedelta]

Therefore I Am | Russell Adler x Bell! Reader IV

Series: Call of Duty: Black Ops Cold War

Therefore I Am | Russell Adler x Bell! Reader

Chapter IV

Word Count: 6900+

[Chapter III] [Chapter V]

Summary:  [Y/N] “Bell” [L/N] was content with dying. Shot by the person whom they admired and left to die, the world was now left in the hands of the team they once thought as family. However, it seems that fate had other plans in mind…

Content Warning: mature content, gore, vulgar language, blood, injuries

Notes: Things are getting juicy! A lot happens in this one since I merged two parts into one chapter, I just didn’t want to series to run on for too long. I’m glad you’re all enjoying it though! Hopefully there isn’t too many mistakes since I don’t look over what I write sometimes.

[Y/N] "Bell" [L/N]

July, 1983

CIA Safehouse, West Germany

After your meeting with Mason, it took another half week or so for everything to get back into order.

You had to go through a psychological evaluation, answering a tirade of questions about your personal mental health. At first you thought about lying just to fuck around, but decided against. It would have just added more problems to your already growing list, and you certainly didn't want to get pushed aside. They wouldn't show you the results and passed it off. Soon enough, you were free to go. 

The CIA basically had you on a leash. Someone had to keep an eye on you wherever you went, and the perfect way they went about it was to put you back under Adler's wing. You had nowhere else to go. 

Then again, it was time to refresh and flex your skills. Unfortunately, they didn't give you back your belongings. The pistol and vest you had was now gone. A bit of yourself felt a bit empty without it, but at least they took it upon themselves to throw away the sentimental baggage that you held onto for so long.

Adler had yet to make an appearance since the base. He wasn't even there on the plane ride to Germany, leaving you to travel with Lazar and Mason, whom both snored loudly. You didn't have much to bring with you other than the clothes on your back and a few care packages Mason had forced you to carry, saying something along the lines of Woods craving "a sad excuse for candy", which turned out to be a pack of Hershey's. 

As the ETA to the safehouse got closer, you couldn't help but dread the moment you had to walk through the metal shutters. What were you supposed to do? Act normal like nothing ever happened, and carry on with the day? That felt like the most obvious answer, and yet the thought of just having to work alongside him again made you both irritated and anxious.

The three of you arrived in West Berlin early in the morning, approximately at four a.m.. You could see the landing strip become dimly lit with the ground lights, as well as the control tower poking out in the distance. The airport was rather quiet and not busy as you had anticipated. A nice chill met your exposed skin as you walked out of the aircraft, and you felt Lazar placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Welcome back, Bell.”

Orange streaks poked through the sky by the time you arrived. The outside of the safehouse looked no different since the last time you laid eyes on it. 

It was still anchored in its spot, not a leaf out of place. However, the inside felt so foreign, as there were things now occupying the spaces that were once empty. A couple of more metal tables were placed around the main area, and there were now a couple of towers made from file boxes. It felt a bit more cramped because of it, and you almost knocked some over on your way out. At the same time, though, more cozy at least. 

First thing you did was get a haircut. More specifically, Sims took it upon himself to give you one once he arrived. He wasn't a professional or anything but he does a decent job, surprisingly. Your head felt significantly lighter.

Going to drop off your bags, your room was left untouched by time. It was lightly furnished, your bed was shoved into the corner with fresh sheets pulled over it. A wooden table was pushed against the wall near the door, drawers empty. On top of it, there was a Swiss watch. It seemed fairly new, but there were a few nicks and scratches on the glass cover that gave its age away. The leather strap had light creases, and it stretched out as you secured it around your wrist. Someone already took it upon themselves to adjust the time.

That was when you noticed a small rectangular package that was sitting next to it.

It was wrapped in brown paper, and pulling back the tape, it unfolded and revealed a bunch of old newspapers that served as wrapping paper. Perplexed, you ripped them off, and found a weird device. Wrapped around it was some kind of wiring. Sifting through the papers for some sort of explanation, you search for a note of some kind but to no avail. You never seen something like it before, and asked around the safehouse (except him) what it was. They told you it was recently produced, and that it was basically a portable cassette player. No one seemed to know who gave it to you, or if they knew, they wouldn't reveal it to you. Whoever it was, you were thankful for. 

Having music blasted into your ears couldn't be more reassuring. The voices were drowned out, and you were able to just listen to the noise of musical instruments and heart-moving vocals. You found it easier to focus in this state. 

There weren't a lot of selections on the tape, and they were also from different genres. You listened to all of them on loop multiple times, even when falling asleep. Seeing how Sims was the supply man around here, you would probably have to ask him about it later. If he was generous enough, you'll see. 

Though, in return, you couldn't hear the talk going around the safehouse. If anyone needed your attention, they would need to tap you on the shoulder, or wave a hand in your view. You developed the ability to roughly read lips so you didn't need to take off your earphones as much, but if anything happened outside your peripherals, you didn't notice.

As for Adler, right when you set eyes on each other, it was like you both, begrudgingly, made a silent pact to avoid each other as much as possible. If one of you happened to be nearby, either you or him would make a detour. And if it just so happened that he needed to talk to you, he would send someone else in his stead to deliver papers or to just advise on what you needed to do next. Sims refused to be the messenger after the second time, and you even saw him talking to Adler in the back corner telling him to suck it up.

“How old are you again? Because this is getting ridiculous. You’re going to have to get used to working with them again, or I will formally write both of you up for therapy,” you heard him say.

Three days after your arrival, a briefing was finally held at twelve o' clock sharp, 

You took a seat on one of the metal stools near the radio station, rotating the knob around and listening to the music stations. Most of them were static, as there wasn't a definitive signal in these parts. Unable to come to a decision, you flipped it off.

Hudson comes around, giving you a small nod when he noticed you had already joined up in front of the board. Everyone else gathered, pulling out stools or sitting on top of the table. You had to nudge Woods to the side just so you could get a view of the evidence that was being put up.

"Finally got ourselves a mission,” Hudson starts. “Our sources informed us about more intel on Soviet activity regarding a catastrophic weapon, and it has Perseus written all over it. Detonating the nukes failed, so this is probably Plan B. As for what, when and where, we don't know yet. With the intel we’re going to obtain, we can find out. The bastard’s been lying low for the longest time, so it’s about time.” 

Hudson points directly at you with the marker in his hand.

"Bell, you're in on this one."

You perked up immediately as Hudson mentioned your name, taking out your earphones. It almost felt unbelievable. After months without having anything to do, you finally had the opportunity for some action, and the first thing was being deployed on a mission. It felt like a welcome back gift from Hudson in a way. Or maybe it was his way of apologizing. With that man, you could never tell. 

"You'll be providing distance support with Woods as Adler and Mason go in to snag our prize."

You nod, fixing your posture. Truth be told, you weren't exactly paying attention, since you expected just to stay in West Berlin. But now things were different. 

“As for where, you’ll be going back to East Berlin. The Iron Curtain is still strong, and security is tighter than ever since last time. The two groups will enter through different ways, more details on that later. You’ll both head to this area—” Hudson circles a place on the map, just between East Berlin and the border of Poland. 

“You’re going in light. You'll be dressed as civilians, and the CIA informant I mentioned will meet you here, get the guns you need. From there, it’s all or nothing. Try not to cause mayhem.” He tosses the marker onto the desk. “Questions?”

"Yeah, I have one. Any reason as to why you need Bell on this one?"

All eyes turned to the speaker, which was none other than Adler. You gritted your teeth, annoyance already beginning to make its rounds. Of course he would pull something like this.

"Is there a reason as to why we shouldn't?" Hudson replies coolly. "Bell already proved themselves back at Solovetsky. That's enough for me."

"Yeah, what the idea, Adler?" Woods challenged, hopping off the table he sat on. He strided over to Adler, confronting him face to face. "Something wrong with Bell?"

"Bell hasn't exactly had the healthiest of minds as of lately,” Adler states coldly, getting up from his seat to meet Woods eye to eye. “One fatal mistake and the mission's compromised."

"It's not like Bell was given a choice on that matter, considering what you've all done," Mason joins in with a blatant distaste. "Unless… there's something else you’re hiding."

Adler shot a glance towards your direction, and you sent him a death stare in return. He contemplated for a moment, before backing down against Woods. 

You couldn't tell what was going on inside that mind inside of his and you hated it. You couldn’t even catch a breath whenever he was around, and his mere presence or thought of him agitated you. Despite pledging to yourself not to let him get an advantage over you, he never failed to piss you off in some form.  

"Bell's going on the mission, Adler, whether you like it or not. Work as a team. They didn't go through a psych evaluation for fun," Hudson affirms. "You all leave the first week of August."

Once the meeting was dismissed, you put your earphones back on, turning the music back to its max volume. You grabbed a small roll of bandages from the back storage, wrapping them around your hands as. The punching bag seemed like a great idea at the moment for blowing off steam, and you headed over before you could bash a wall in. 

Testing the weight of it, you propel it away from you, stopping it when it returns. Getting used to it, you gave it a final push.

When it rounded towards you, you sent a clean jab to its side and watched it recoil upon impact. 

You continued this cycle, increasing your hits each time as you relinquished your anger. What the hell was his problem?

There was a tap on your shoulder, causing you to jump. You resisted the urge to instinctively draw back a fist, instead holding it at your side.

Turning around, you found Woods waiting patiently with a stern, but intrigued, expression.

"What is wrong with you?" you growl.

"You're going to go deaf with that shit blasting in your ears. I could hear it a mile away," he advised.

"Is that what you came here to tell me?" You return back to the bag as Woods just took a seat on top of the table nearby.

"You gotta put more 'oomph' into it, Bell. Put the hips to work."

"If I wanted tips, I would ask Sims." 

Regardless, you adjusted accordingly and delivered a series of jabs and hooks to the bag in front of you. Although better, there was still room for improvement. But, you couldn't concentrate now with Woods silently judging you with crossed arms, but you obeyed every suggestion he gave. Put your weight more on the tips of your toes, keep moving, etcetera. Sweat was already beginning to run down your forehead, your shirt sticking to your skin and the threads of the bandages fraying.

Heaving, you stop assaulting the bag when you start to feel your chest constrict. Something white flashes just outside your peripherals, and you quickly catch the towel Woods tossed. 

"Why don't you take a break and talk with me for a bit?" 

Sighing exasperatedly, you pull out your left earbud and you unwrap the bandages. He was unusually persistent today, but you knew he was too stubborn to be ignored. "Okay, let's hear it."

"Well, to start off, you looked kinda pissed earlier."

"Did I?" you questioned curtly, flexing your fingers. "Maybe I just have that kind of face."

"Don't be a stick in the mud, it wouldn't kill you to talk about it. You know me, I can keep secrets."

"Because you're the expert in quiet."

"Of course I–" He cuts himself off in realization. "Did Mason tell you that?"

"Probably."

"Goddammit," he swears under his breath. "Anyways, Bell. Let's talk."

You hummed in response. Mason did say he was a good listener. No wonder they were buddies. "Before we do, tell me what happened to Mason. He said he went through the same shit I did."

"Weird way to start off, but yeah, it’s some fucked up stuff, really." He hands you a water bottle, which chug instantly. "Mason was originally brainwashed to be a sleeper agent for the commies. They gave him the ability to read some sort of numbers. I don’t really get it myself, but Hudson and Weaver were getting desperate, and needed to find out what they were. They strapped him into a chair… gave him a harsh time. That kind of crap."

You wipe away excess water from the corner of your mouth. "Sounds like you guys go far back."

Woods chuckles. "'Far back doesn't even cover it." 

"Why do you want to talk, anyway? Before, I was the one to initiate the conversation."

"I just want to get up to date with you," he claims, although you could detect some kind of hidden intention behind his words.

You roll your eyes. "I'm serious, Woods. Did Adler put you up to this?"

"It always goes back to Adler doesn't it? You asked Mason the same thing." 

“And if I did?” 

"Just talk to the guy he’s really bothering you. Hell, I’ll turn a blind eye if you happen to sock him in the jaw again.”

You smirk at his thoughtfulness. “Inciting violence in the workplace now?”

“Don’t tell Hudson,” Woods jokes. “But, in all seriousness Bell, what's up?”

"Nothing." You eyed him for a bit. He had a raised brow and tapping a finger, just waiting for you to tell him anything. It was clear that he didn't plan on leaving you alone, so you took a seat on the floor. "You should learn how to mind your own business."

"Come on.”

"No."

“I’m not going to shut up until you do.”

"Fine." You lower your voice just enough so Woods could hear. It took a bit to force the words out, but knowing the type of guy Woods was, you felt a bit more confident. "Truth be told, I… don't think Adler's exactly happy to have me back."

"How so?"

"You're kidding, right?" You scoff. "You saw what happened earlier. Bossman didn't even want me on the mission."

"A dick move on his part."

"No shit." You gave a heavy sigh. "I-I don't know. It's what I expected, but it still hurts. Like, I worked with the guy, and he shoots me in the end… Maybe a small part of me expected him to be a bit apologetic."

"When you've been doing this kind of work for years, you'll experience some stuff. By all means I'm not defending him, but seeing a body you got rid of come back to life isn't exactly easy to come to terms with."

You roll your eyes. "Wow, I feel so much better."

“Hear me out, Bell,” he starts, and you prepared yourself mentally for a long talk. “When you were MIA, there was a part of me that wished you were alive. Even being told that you had supposedly ran back to Red, it didn't feel like you would do that, you know? But we had no other choice but to accept it as reality. 

"Hudson dismissed the team shortly after that. We went back home, left the safehouse behind for a good year and a half, we thought our work was done. Then we got a call, saying that there's been suspicious activity relating to Perseus going amuck, and then fast forward to today, we’re back where we started. The place felt a bit empty without you, kid."

"You missed me?"

"Fuck yeah we did! Having someone a bit younger on the team really livens up the mood don't you think? Another newbie to bully a bit. So think of this as making up for lost time."

"That's nice to hear, I guess."

Woods scratches the back of his head. Talking to you was harder than he thought, especially since you were so adamant on hating Adler. It wasn't his job to maintain your relationships in the workplace, sure, but you having this mindset would hurt yourself and everyone else in the long run. Plus, he hated seeing you like this.

"I'm sure Adler's just trying to wrap his head around this,” he comes to say. “Just give him time. He was ordered to kill one of his own, after all."

"On the contrary, isn't it me that should be 'given time'?” you challenged. “I'm the one that took the bullet, not him. It's his fault for being a lousy shot, and me being here is the consequences of his own actions."

Why should you give Adler the benefit of the doubt? Clearly he didn't feel any remorse for what he did. While you have yet to speak a word to him, it felt like he personally had it out for you. Adler should have to deal with you, not the other way around. And the stunt from earlier further proved your point.

"Just think about it, Bell. We all have our own emotional baggage. I'm not saying that yours isn't important, but everyone has their own shit to deal with. What I'm saying is to just let things play out. You never know."

"Because you definitely have the experience of being presumed dead by your best friends," you utter sarcastically under your breath. 

Admittedly, hearing everyone's stories so far about how they felt during your absence was heartwarming. You thought it would be awkward trying to settle back in, but instead they all welcomed you back with open arms despite the lies they've been told. 

Woods’s expression drops slightly, like he had just remembered an unpleasant memory. "Well…"

You perk up, raising your eyebrows, suddenly a bit interested in hearing his story.  "...You're joking."

He smiles wryly. “You know Kravchenko, right? Had a bit of an encounter with the man, and needless to say, he’s on my shitlist now. Mason and I have it in for him, that guy is dead the moment we see him.”

“What happened?” 

The veteran adjusts his sitting position, leaning back on his hands and giving out a loud sigh.

“We were caught by a few Viet Cong soldiers, forced to play Russian roulette. Scariest fucking thing I’ve done, you Russians are deranged as hell. But, we managed to make it out of there and turned the place into a living hell. Then, there was Kravncheko, beating the shit out of Mason, so I stabbed the fucker in the back. And he still wouldn't kick the bucket, and decided to pull a damn grenade. So, I took him on a trip, right out the window."

"You survived?" you say in awe. Woods really had a way of telling stories.

"I ain't dying to the likes of him! But, he came to first, and then threw me into a POW camp, before shipping me off to Da Nang. But I wasn't going to fucking die in that shithole, so here I am now."

"Hm, I guess we have something in common now,” you grin.

"Well, now that I told you some of my history…" Woods hops off the table to sit beside you. He props a knee up to rest his arm on, and it reminded you of a child who's excited for a bedtime story. "You need to share some of yours."

You gave a dry laugh, shaking your head. "...You set me up for this."

"C'mon. Sharing is caring."

"I'm not a storyteller."

"Well you are now."

0000

“Bell sure has taken a liking to the Walkman.”

Adler looked up from his station, and found Lazar standing across from him. 

Taking a peek over in your direction, you sat alongside Woods near the punching bag. You were both exchanging something he didn’t know about, and even saw Woods giving him a few glares over the shoulder. Shortly after though, the conversation turned lighthearted, both of you laughing at something.

"Mason!" you shouted. "Did I ever tell you about the time where Woods assaulted the mannequin?!"

Woods jumped up. "Bell! What the fuck?!"

"Oh shit, sorry."

The Walkman Lazar referred to was poking out of your back pocket, playing whatever cassette tape inside. A wire poked out from the end of it, before parting into two, leading to your ears.

“What about it?” Adler says flatly, before resuming his work on the mission files.

You haven’t spoken a word to him. Not one bit. Even after he questioned Hudson's choices. Whenever he did talk to you, if he even tried to, you would only nod or shake your head in response to him, and the only time you would look at him was to scowl. He noticed you would flinch slightly at the tone of his voice, and he couldn’t help but feel a little guilty about it. Or how you would lock the door whenever you went to rest. 

Not only that, but it was clear that you were talking to everyone else but him. It had taken some time for you to warm up to the rest of the members again, but it was noticeable that you were closer to Lazar and Mason. While they weren't full blown paragraphs, you would engage in brief conversations with them frequently. You were on close terms with Woods and Mason, and Sims was decent. For Hudson, at least, whenever he dropped by, you answered with single word statements. And you hated Hudson.

So if you hated Hudson, how did you feel about him?

“You haven’t been exactly doing your best at trying to reconnect with Bell either, you know,” Lazar points out, before taking another bite from his food. 

“Are you implying that I take initiative instead?”

Lazar shrugs. “If what you call earlier 'taking initiative', you need a new approach.”

Adler had nailed it relentlessly into you that you’ve known him and Sims since Vietnam, but the truth was that you only knew each other for a few months. He couldn't exactly waltz up to you, declare an apology, and expect everything to be how it was before you found out. So, he could only hope you were faring well, or managing a way to deal with it all.

"I'll think about it," was all he said. 

"If you say so. You need ideas? Let me know." Lazar was about to walk away, before pausing and turning back. "Drinks tonight?"

"Ask Woods. He's been dying for one."

Lazar laughed before departing.

Thinking about what he had told him, Adler couldn't help but feel a little spark of relief. If one were to look closely enough, the corners of his mouth were upturned slightly in a smile. It wasn't noticeable to the naked eye, but it was there. 

He was the one who left you the Walkman after all, so to hear that you favored it dearly was a plus one in his books.

0000

Giving out a loud yawn, you slapped your cheeks trying to keep yourself awake.

It was now the first week of August, and it was just your luck that you couldn't get a good night's sleep the day prior. As exhausted as you were, you've been looking forward to getting back onto the field. Hopefully you weren't as rusty as Woods claimed.

"I'm surprised you never shot the asshole yet."

You looked up from your scope at the building across from you, where Woods sat comfortably. Adjusting your grip on the rifle, you resumed to survey the streets below you, noting the positions of bystanders and patrolling guards. 

"Shot who?"

Berlin was just as depressing as it was the last time you were there for the Volkov mission. Sneaking through the U-Bahn, meeting up with Greta Keller and her asking you of a favor; breaking into the apartment due to Lazar (graciously) volunteering you, only to be compromised thanks to Lukas Richter, whom you let free beforehand. The dark side of you would have loved to put a bullet through the backstabbing traitor, but Belikov did the job for you (unfortunately).

“Damaged goods.”

You worked with Adler on that mission.

“Oh.” You had answered your own question. “Truth be told, the thought never really crossed my mind. But, now that you mentioned it…”

You adjust your position, now looking down at an alleyway a good distance from where you were perched. You trained your crosshair to be about the height of a six foot male, pointing it directly at the corner of the wall. 

“You’re sick, Bell,” Woods’ voice echoed in your earpiece. “You know that?”

“Bastard did say that I didn’t have ‘the healthiest of minds’,” you retort, doing an awful mimicry of Adler’s voice. 

“I can hear you.”

Good.

"It's Mason. Look sharp, we're in position."

The building of interest wasn't as large as you thought it would be. Apparently it's an old apartment building with a clothing shop on the first floor. There were no occupants, most likely forced to relocate upon the start of the war. 

Zooming out, you see Mason and Adler round the corners on opposite sides of the building, wearing the uniforms of local police. Mason was on the left side, and Adler on the right. They took positions next to the door. You could hear Adler countdown, and you held your breath as they both opened their doors simultaneously, peeking inside before slithering in and shutting the door.

“First floor clear. Moving to second.”

Your vision was limited, but you kept an eye on the windows on each floor, waiting for any suspicious activity. Everything was going smoothly so far, the duo having no issues as they continued up the building. 

You saw something shift. “Heads up, movement on the fourth floor,” you utter into your earpiece. 

“Got it,” Adler confirms over comms. 

After a moment of time passed, the weather started to turn sour. It almost seemed like the weather reflected the mood of the people: the skies completely dark and rain continuously pouring. The rumbling cracks of thunder rolled in following the flashes of lightning. You winced at the first clap of thunder.

“Don’t tell me you're afraid of a little thunder, kiddo,” Woods taunts from his end. 

“I was just caught off guard.” 

“Third and fourth floor clear.”

Mason and Adler rendezvous on the fourth floor, and you could see Mason drag a body out of view as Adler closed the door. They converged in the middle of the room, but a wall blocked your view. 

“What the hell? Is this what we came here for?” Mason voiced in disappointment.

“Why, what is it?” 

You couldn’t hear the reply over the clap of thunder. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up. You felt uneasy, the operation was going by too smoothly. The guards around the area never so budged from their spot, instead chatting away with their partners, or too busy being held up on unsuspecting bypassers. You wiped away the raindrops from your scope using your finger, before taking the chance to sweep another view of the streets once again.

Another flash of white and a clap of thunder. 

"Mason, Adler? What's the hold up?" Woods asks. You both waited for a response, only to hear static. He repeated the question again with more urgency. 

Nothing again.

"Shit…" you cuss under your breath. You couldn't see anything from the window. 

Looking at your watch, the team was supposed to meet at the extraction point in twenty-five minutes. From there, you would be taken back to West Berlin. But Mason nor Adler had confirmed anything, and you were all going to fall behind schedule at this point.

Contemplating the choices, you folded the bipod for your rifle. You wouldn't have time to dismantle the attachments, so you threw the strap around your shoulders to let it hang from your back. Whipping out your sidearm, you loaded in a few bullets and adjusted the silencer at the end. 

“Woods, I’m going in,” you announce, already dashing towards the edge of the roof. “Cover me.”

“Dammit Bell, wait—”

“Don’t worry about it. I got this.”

Vaulting over the edge, you slide downwards on top of a metal shed, before landing on a balcony. You cursed silently as your equipment banged and jingled with every movement you made. Praying that the Stasi had horrible hearing, you lean over the rail, checking to see if there was anyone patrolling under you. With the coast clear, you tested the strength of a nearby pipe before climbing down on it. 

You could feel it just waiting to give out any moment, but you made it down without any trouble. Landing with a thud, the alley was dark, scarcely illuminated by the streetlights. Rain was pouring down, the sound of the droplets hitting the pavement covering your tracks. 

Rounding the corner, one soldier stood alone. They had a cigar in their mouth, and you could smell the fumes making its way your direction. The smell of nicotine and tobacco made you sick to the stomach for some reason. You waited for the next boom of thunder to occur, and when it did you snuck up behind them. 

Covering their mouth and having a good choke hold on them, you dragged them back into the depths of the alley where light couldn't reach, before snapping their neck. You put the body inside a nearby bin, and continued on your way.

"Woods, how's it looking over there?" you whisper.

"Still no sight of them. Are you sure you got this?"

"This is me we're talking about."

You stuck close to the walls, making sure to avoid any well lit areas. The clothing shop was just across the street, and you didn't have a clear path. Clicking your tongue in annoyance, you looked for any other possible routes nearby. A couple of patrol cars were lined up alongside a makeshift barricade towards your right. There were two figures sitting on the hood of one of them.

"Hey, need your help on something. At your four o'clock. Two on the car. You take the one on the left."

"Got it."

"On my mark…" you began to count down, steadying your crosshairs onto their head. The rumbling of thunder started to go off as you held your breath to steady your aim. "Now!"

The thunder drowned out the sound of the silencers, and you quickly ran over to the cars as lightning flashed. 

"Good hit."

Working quick, you pulled both of their bodies off the car and shoved them under it, tucking their arms and legs in. The rain was already cleaning the blood off the car, not noticeable from a distance.

You let yourself catch a breath before moving behind the next car. Peeking over the trunk, you could see that the attentions of a couple police officers were pointing towards the general area of Woods position, and you prompted him to move to a different area. "They got eyes on you Woods, try find a better area before they start moving."

“Well, time to pack it up. You’ll be on your own for a bit, kid.”

Entering the shop, there were racks of clothing pushed up on the sides. A few shirts were strewn across the ground, and the cash register was propped open and rusty. The lights were off, the streetlights casting a dim glow inside. An open door was behind the counter, leading to a flight of stairs. 

Going up, all the doors leading to each floor were wide open, and taking a peek inside, there was no one. It was eerily quiet, to a point where your light footsteps echoed. The building appeared smaller when you viewed it from afar, but travelling up 

Pulling the door open to a crack, you peered inside and saw that a group of Stasi were gathered around something on the floor. They were speaking erratically in German, trying to figure out what to do. Leaning in a bit more, you realize that they were surrounding the Adler and Mason, who were on the floor. They weren't moving at all.

Were they dead? 

No, there was no way. They wouldn't go down without a fight. But the simple thought of it made you sick to your stomach.

Whipping out a flashbang, you ripped the door open and threw it in as hard as you can. A blinding light flashed before you. Squinting through the brightness, you took the one closest to you as hostage, letting them absorb any bullets that fly your direction. You popped one shot into each of the guards, four in total, before adding your makeshift bulletproof jacket to the pile. They fell to the ground, clutching their chests as they drew their final breath. You stepped over them, kicking their arms aside. 

“Well, I found them.”

“How do they look?”

Adler and Mason remained unmoving as you got to them. Squatting, you leaned close to check if they were still breathing.

You gave a sigh of relief. “Unconscious.”

“Well we don’t have all night, Bell. Wake ‘em up, I hear police cars approaching the area.”

“Yeah, give me a couple minutes.”

You brought your hand up to Adler’s face, about to deliver a good slap to wake him up, but you stopped midway, noticing his rather peaceful expression despite the situation.

There were strands out of place from his normally styled hair, and his sunglasses were just about to slip right off the tip of his nose. Finally, the man was quiet. But, you had to admit, the more you looked at him, you couldn't help but find him rather–

What the fuck is wrong with me?

This was the guy that tried to kill you. The one that didn’t want you on the damn mission. And yet why did you feel this way? 

Brushing aside your thoughts, you propped Adler against the wall, only to notice that there was a hole in his side. Lifting up his shirt, there was a bullet wedged inside him. It wasn’t lodged in too deep and didn’t hit any important arteries or parts. You whipped out your med kit, pulling out a large gauze pad and some tape. 

"Bell?"

Adler stirred awake on his own as you worked on him. You didn't even notice him becoming conscious until he groaned and adjusted his weight. His hand shot towards his side instinctively as you applied pressure but you slapped it away. 

"Glad to know you still care at least," he comments in amusement as you cleaned the area.

"Don’t patronize me."

A look of astonishment played on Adler’s face as you scowled at him. You just spoke to him.

As much as you wanted to argue with the guy, you slapped the gauze over his abdomen, securing it tightly with tape before bringing out your roll of bandages. It wasn't the best of treatments, so he would have to fix it up back at the safehouse.

"Are we on speaking terms again?"

"Don't make me regret my decision,” you spat. 

You couldn't stand it. The silent treatment you were giving him was already difficult to maintain with Adler always having some kind of remark or witty statement at his disposal, and your first instinct was to retort back with any insult that came to mind. 

And with that, you purposely tightened the knot of Adler's bandage, gaining a little satisfaction seeing him wince. "Ouch."

"God you never shut up, do you?"

Though, you had to admit, it felt a bit more relaxing to finally talk to him.

You moved over to Mason, giving his face a few slaps. It took a bit, but he stirred awake, his hand automatically going to touch the back of his head. "Ugh, the hell?"

"Get up, don't have much time." You pass him his rifle, pulling the lever back for him. Mason groggily got up to his feet, taking the gun out of your hands. "Woods, how's it looking out there?"

"They're making a barricade around the area. Our escape route is blocked."

"Well shit," Mason chimes in. "How long until exfil?"

Adler looks at his watch. "Five minutes. Not enough time."

"Well, we'll just have to make do, don't we?" You kick one of the downed rifles towards Adler. 

He picks it up all while maintaining a stony expression. You could tell he was resisting the urge to lecture you, but had the decency to pick his own fights. 

Adler hops right back up, even taking the time to brush himself off. "How do I look?"

"Pathetic," you remark.

"Are you two done flirting?" Mason yells from the stairwell, sticking his head through the door. 

The three of you urgently made your way down, taking a bit of a shortcut by vaulting over the railing.

"There should be a car nearby," you tell them. "Woods, meet us at the coffee shop around the corner, we'll do a drive by."

“Well you better haul ass, cause we got friends!”

Running out to the street, Adler and Mason follow your lead while keeping their weapons up. The rain showed no signs of letting up, and the police sirens were getting closer. You went to the nearest car and pulled at the door handle. "Of course it's locked," you hiss under your breath. 

You break the window using your elbow and reach in to unlock the door. Some idiot left the keys inside the car so you slid it into the ignition and revved it awake. "Get in!"

Slamming on the gas, you didn’t give them the chance to close the door as the car lurched forward. The tires screeched loudly under you, leaving marks on the pavement as you sped off. Red and blue lights flooded the darkness, and you turned the wheel sharply to avoid the building. 

“Mason, get your door open! Woods is going to be on that side!” you bark over the gunfire. You hear the rear window being pelted relentlessly, Adler and Mason ducking to avoid the bullets. He forcibly kicks the door open, but it just breaks right off and strays away as you drove down the street.

“The zone’s too hot! Woods might as well be a beehive if he tries to jump in here!” Adler exclaims while reloading. 

You dove your hands to your side, fishing out a small C4 and handing it over to him. “Try not to shoot at me this time around, will you?”

“Very funny.”

Adler uses the butt of his rifle to knock out the remaining glass from the back window. Seeing a good opportunity, he tosses the C4 out, and shoots it with perfect precision. Orange and yellow raged outward in the air, shaking the entire vehicle and causing you to swerve a bit. From the mirror, you could see a couple of police cars flip over.

The coffee shop was just a click away, and you could see Woods taking cover behind a raised flower bed made from stacked bricks. You honked the horn to let him know of your presence, and he poked his head out.

You slam on the breaks while gassing at the same time, tugging the wheel towards the left and bringing the car to a small drift. It stops in front of Woods, who dives right in while giving out a cheer.

"Nice driving, Bell!” 

And with everyone back together, you speed off into the night, leaving behind another mess once again in East Berlin. Hudson wouldn't be exactly ecstatic to hear about it, but the job was done.

#russell adler #russell adler x reader #russell ader x bell #cod black ops cold war #black ops cold war #call of duty #bo:cw #text #bell #call of duty x reader #call of duty imagine #fanfic #oh boy just wait for the next chapter its all over for you all #abcd briefing

[jamesvanriemsdyk]

Best GMs and coaches in the league ACC to you?

we can start with gms because coaching is a bit more complicated. best gms in the league is easy to look at because like, who has a good team? who has had a consistently good team? whose locker room is the most cohesive, whose coaching staff is the best? who is the best at acquiring and keeping the best players, coaches, staff, etc? and you can see that in the way teams play. 

(putting this under the cut because it got long. and i mean Long.)

so, in no particular order: kyle dubas (leafs), steve yzerman (red wings, i will explain this later), don waddell (canes), julien brisebois (lightning), joe sakic (avs), and kelly mccrimmon/george mcphee (golden knights) (god i still hate that name and also will explain this later too) are the best in the league in my opinion. honorable mention to marc bergevin, who has held onto his job much longer than he arguably should have, but still has a decent team on the ice and a decent coaching staff, although the french rule does severely handicap them (i understand why it exists but it does, it just does). 

david poile (preds) is the longest tenured gm in the league (has been the preds gm since fucking 1997, thats insane, thats legit before i was born, what the fuck), and i do genuinely think he is very good at his job, and that he is very hockey smart, but oh boy have his recent decisions been suspect as hell, and that reflects in the state of his team. doug wilson (sharks), who is the second longest tenured gm in the nhl, is in the exact same boat (the karlsson deal is a nightmare, and also did he just forget that his star core was gonna get old and retire or ??).

with dubas, waddell, brisebois, sakic, and mccrimmon/mcphee all have the same basic strengths: they draft well, they have a fundamental understanding of their team structure and how to manage public perception of the team and everything that implies, and they have two fingers on the pulse of their locker room at all times. im not going to pretend to know as much about sakic and mccrimmon/mcphee as i do the eastern gms, but it doesnt take much to figure it out. look at the avs, and their locker room, the success theyve found after being dead fucking last in the league. look at the knights and their incredible success that theyve found after literally not existing before 2017. ive talked about dubas a lot on my blog, but its incredibly easy to see that waddell and brisebois do the same shit he does, and i can do a deep dive on them if asked. bergevin has moments of brilliance, like the suzuki trade and acquiring caufield and anderson, but things like kotkaniemi’s development and their entire blue line give me a massive pause, which is why he’s not in the main list. he’s a good gm. he’s just not the best.

in regards to steve yzerman: you have to understand that this is the man that built the tampa bay lightning as we know them. this man was gm of the bolts until fucking 2018. tampa bay has been a monster in the eastern conference for years, BECAUSE of the work steve yzerman put in. his team set the franchise record for wins, and he was the first and is the only lightning gm to have won gm of the year. look up the 17-18 roster. it is, essentially, the roster that won them the cup last year. make no mistake, i think brisebois is great, and hes on the list for a reason, but the biggest part of brisebois’ success was steve yzerman’s incredible hockey mind. brisebois essentially had to sell off a fourth of his roster, and the lightning are still a top team in their division and in the league, and thats why he’s there (it is so incredibly easy to fuck shit up post cup win), but the brisebois lightning would not exist without steve yzerman, plain and simple.

what steve yzerman is doing in detroit should be watched very, very closely by every single person in the hockey world. youre fucking nuts if youre not paying attention to them, not gonna lie. the mantha trade was excellent, if really sad if you know even a bit about the wings, but the amount of draft picks steve yzerman has amassed and the way he’s using the prospects and players he already has is really fucking admirable. mike babcock left the red wings organization absolutely in tatters, and i think, honestly, it was always steve yzerman’s plan to go home to detroit and rebuild. if there is anyone who is going to strike absolute gold this draft year, it is steve yzerman. watch the red wings, i am telling you, keep a beat on detroit. they are going to be good. its not an if, its a when.

(real quick on the knights situation: mcphee was the first gm of the knights, and was also president of hockey ops at the same time, and then in 2019 mcphee said he was just gonna focus on his job as president, but we all know hes still an integral part of the way the knights are run, and he and mccrimmon have kinda been building the knight together since the beginning anyway bc mccrimmon was originally mcphee’s agm. so. thats why theyre together)

as for coaches, it’s very simple. rod brind’amour (canes), sheldon keefe (leafs, yes im biased, we’ll get into it), jared bednar (avs), joel quenneville (panthers), jon cooper (lightning), barry trotz (isles), and mike sullivan (pens).

(disclaimer: obviously coaching is done as a team, and assistants and specialist coaches and staff are all very important, but the head coaches set the tone and organize the entire machine, if you will, so im going to be talking about head coaches as if theyre the entire coaching staff. its just easier this way im sorry)

im gonna just start with the easy ones: barry trotz, mike sullivan, and jon cooper have been in the league for years. cooper is the longest tenured coach in the nhl for a reason (again, just look at the tampa bay lightning. its the gm’s job to make the coach’s life easier and the coach’s job to make the gm’s life easier, and this is one of the prime examples of it in the league. its dope as hell tbh), trotz is one of the most respected coaches in the hockey world for a reason (the caps lost something when he walked. they just did. and now the isles are absolute hell to play against and that is largely the coaching of barry trotz, you legit cannot tell me im wrong), and while mike sullivan does have his faults, i think hes found a way to please both management and the crosby-and-malkin unit, which has been really really fucking hard to do. he also led the pens to back to back cups, which you can never really uh. ignore. lmao. so theres those three.

i know less about bednar, but again, another example of the coach and gm working together to make each others’ lives easier. sakic gets bednar the players and staff he needs to make the avs better, and bednar takes those players and staff and makes them into the absolute giant they are. it wouldve been really, really easy to fuck up makar’s development, or bowen byram’s, or sam girard’s, or ryan graves’s, or jost or mackinnon or rantanen’s, but he hasn’t, and he hasn’t just given up on players like burakovsky or kadri, he’s given them new life as players and made them more successful.

joel quenneville is the reason the bl/ckh/wks were a legacy team point blank period. sure they had the talent, sure the gm drafted well, but you do not get the legacy of the chicago bl/ckh/wks without joel quenneville. they fired him on a whim and it absolutely was a mistake, and the moment the cats hired him i literally out loud said ‘oh no’ because i knew exactly what that meant for the leafs and their position in the standings. the panthers are underrated generally, yes, but they would not be the powerhouse they are this season without quenneville. just look at q’s wiki stats. he’s absolutely unbeilevable. he won the jack adams in fucking 2000, before he’d even won any of the cups with the h/wks. i cant tell you what kind of a locker room coach this guy is, but i can tell you his teams win and win convincingly, and that firing him was the biggest mistake the h/wks have made in years.

whenever i talk about coaching, i talk about rod brindamour and sheldon keefe in the same breath every single time because there is no match, and i mean none, for the love inside those locker rooms. the avs, maybe, but my point stands. keefe and brindamour fucking BLEED team spirit, it is at the center of their coaching styles and their teams are good because of it specifically. marner and matthews are good, yes, and they always have been, but they have surpassed all expectation and then some with keefe. aho, teravainen, and svechnikov are good, yes, and they always have been, but they have surpassed all expectation with brindamour. brindamour and keefe have both hashtag played the game, so they Get It, and more than that, theyve grown and changed their understanding of the game as the game itself has changed, and so they can command the authority of their teams while also connecting to them on a really deep level. i should make a note here that keefe and brindamour are incredibly, deeply hockey smart, and that they are also just technically good coaches, skimming their wiki or nhl dot com articles will tell you that, but what makes them stand out to me is that their players would fucking die for them. the leafs would go through the end boards for keefe, the canes would do the same for brindamour. travis dermott said it best when keefe got promoted: boys wanna play for him. beyond that, the management skills both brindamour and keefe have are just frankly amazing (the amount of ego keefe specifically has to manage in the leafs locker room is astounding and he does it so incredibly brilliantly). the leafs and the canes are talented, yes, and would have been talented regardless of who was coaching them. but brindamour and keefe bring both of those teams from talented to exceptional, and the true mark of an amazing coach is not only how many games their team wins, but how they win them, and the leafs and canes have been winning games this year for and because of each other, and that starts with their coaches. what makes a great coach, to me, is not the talent on the team (though that certainly helps), but how the coach manages his players no matter who they are, and how he helps those players grow not just as players as people, because no matter how much pure stats people and twitter hockey dudebros wanna deny it, that shit does affect on ice play, and it does make good players better.

so theres my analysis of the best coaches and gms of the nhl, im so sorry this is so long, oh my god. also, shoutout to @bishops--knifetrick for sending me an ask about this literally a month ago that i just never answered, sorry for that, but here i hope this is good. :)

#anon #answered #hockey info #wow this took legit like several hours to write between stints of taking care of the baby #ok to rb lmao

[heliosthegriffin]

Jaune’s Big Breakout Pt 2

Part One

------

“Ack!” Jaune yelped as he halfway fell off his cot.

He had failed another attempt.

“So much for breakout number 30...”

He sighs and slides to the floor.

“This is getting depressing, I wondering how everyone else is doing?”

He frowns. “Nah, no use worrying about them, they’re probably better than ever without me there.”

“Why are you talking to yourself?”

“Ah!” Jaune jumps up and looks at the door, which had been cracked open, where a scraggly looking man leaned against the wall. Jaune could smell the booze on him from across the room.

“Ha, you gave me a heart-attack, who the heck are you?”

“You didn’t answer me question,”

“And neither did you, why are you in my cell?”

“You call this a cell? If it is, it’s much nicer than any other cell I’ve been in.” The scraggly alcoholic pulled up the only chair in the room, the one that was for the desk.

“Ok, my containment room I guess.”

“Well, anyway I’m the guy that dropped your butt in here, so lets see if that can turn the gears in that blonde box you call a head.”

Jaune frowns. “You’re trying to figure out why I’m trying to escape, aren’t you?”

The drunk smiles. “See, you didn’t need to be a genius to figure that out.”

Jaune climbs back on his padded cot, it was actually really comfy. “You wouldn’t believe me.”

“Why’s that?”

Jaune leans back on his bed looking at the ceiling, where the only window was, and the skylight, watching the blue sky. “You’d just think I’m crazy,”

The guy just sighs. “Fricken teens, man. You’re all so damn self-important, you know what? Whatever, you do you, kid. I’ve seen the feeds, you don’t have what it takes to escape Beacon.”

Jaune frowns. “Is that why you haven’t taken Crocea Mors? You think I’m too pathetic to be a threat?”

“Your words not mind kid, but, I’d also say that we couldn’t take the sword from you.”

“Huh?”

“Anyway, try to be a little less destructive in your attempt to leave, Goodwitch is getting prissy about having to do reconstruction.”

Jaune gave the man a smile. “Oh, it makes her mad, does it?”

“I don’t like that look on your face, way too sinister for a kid.” The drunk gave a smile in return. “But, yes. It does make a her day harder. Go buckwild, kid.”

The man turned to leave, opening the door.

“It gets lonely in here, talking to myself helps.”

The man paused. “I guess it would, names Qrow by the way.”

“Jaune Arc, you’re pretty alright for a guy who imprisoned me.”

“Don’t take it too hard, kid. I’m just trying to do right by me and mine. It’s not forever either, we just got to keep you out of the spotlight till after Vytal, after that we’re shipping you out, maybe home, maybe Atlas, maybe something different. You’re just a kid, so we’re going easy on you, so don’t worry about real prison or anything.... But, anyway here’s some advice from a veteran though, don’t make waves, the attention is not worth it.” 

Jaune let out a sad laugh. “I think it’s a little late for that, the whole school, Haven, Shade, and Atlas all know. Everybody knows team JNPR’s leader is a fraud, and they’re laughing at me, and they’ll keeping laughing at me as long as I’m around.” He rest’s his head in his hands. “Ah man, I hope their doing alright, my team I mean, well my former team. I doubt they want anything to do with me, now.”

Qrow looked at Jaune from the hallway, gripping the door in a reverse grip, and shrugged. “That’s for them to decide, not you. I can’t imagine many people are allowed to visit you. Even I’m a special case.”

Jaune sad nothing and looked at the ground. “Why would they even consider wanting to see me?”

“Why not find them and ask if they want to?”

Jaune looked at Qrow. “I thought you said I’d never breakout of Beacon?”

The older man smirked at him. “I said out, I never said anything about this little tower or getting into the campus.”

A slight smile breaks across Jaune’s face. “I’m not trying to breakout of Beacon anyway, I’ve got somewhere I want to get to on Beacon soil.”

“Hmm, maybe.” Then the man closed the door.

Jaune got up and stretched, loosening up his body for his next escape attempt once his aura recovered in a couple minutes. Then focused his semblance, rapidly regenerating from any exhaustion and damage he’s taken.

His aura full, he sighed contently as a feeling like a warm, fuzzy blanket settled over him. “Lets do this, try 31.”

--------

Attempt Third-One, The third floor in front of the stairs.

Jaune had once again cleared out the first two floors of the drones and was sitting comfortably at the seventy-five percent mark, it was getting easier.

Hopefully it would be enough to defeat the tank on legs.

Jaune opened his shield and stared at the metal giant in the center of the room.

“Lets do this,”

< TARGET SIGHTED, SURRENDER OR BE EXPOSED TO MAXIMUM ALLOWED FORCE > 

Jaune took a determined look at it and assumed a combat stance.

It’s singular eye glowed a blue-white and fired a lance of burning light at Jaune, who hastily raised his aura charged shield, which absorbed the light with burst of aura, the shield’s glow diminishing by at most half.

The two rocket launchers on the robots shoulders then pointed at Jaune and he got the message and started to run away as rocket exploded behind him, heat burning his calves and shrapnel cut at his aura on his back and legs, still it was better than enduring rockets to his arm and getting pinned.

He kept running till he heard a click as the last of the rocket were fired, or at least he assumed so.

Jaune made a sharp turn in his run to the robot, he wasn’t going to escape and let it be on his tail while he fought whatever dangers blocked the next floor, and held his shield high as another laser hit him.

The energy hit the shield and broke the aura coating on it, Jaune tsked and kept running forward, recharging the aura into the shield to give it extra oomph.

The robot seemed stunned at Jaune ran into it’s legs shield first and unleash a shock wave into it’s pillar like legs, only briefly though, before bringing an enormous fist down on Jaune, who was too jarred from the impact he delievered to dodge the blow.

The fist the size of a bucket hit him on the shoulders and knocked him to his knees hard enough to feel a buzz in his teeth and chest.

He snorted and tried to rise, pooling aura into his legs and arms, to push up against the mechanical menace. But the robot threw it’s other arm down on him, pushing him to the ground on his knees.

Then he gulps as he heard a mechanical whirring, and buzz coming from it’s head.

< INITIATING RELOAD >

It’s cyclopean eye then begin to glow as it’s shoulder rockets turned towards him.

His world became a explosion of light and fire for the second time today.

Attempt 31 failed.

Defeated by Mark IV Sentinel  

#Jaune Arc #Jaune's Big Breakout

[sparring-hyena]

the time of our lives.

this one was kinda requested/suggested by @cloakanddaggerthings. they’ve also been a great help in hammering out the finicky details. thanks heaps, mate! 

OR, the one where it takes a year for these two goofs to realise they’re in love.

-

i. New Year’s Eve.

naturally, this is where they start. although, start in a very loose sense of the word. because they were something before tonight. something fiery and intense, but certainly not something real.

they were midnight rendezvouses, sharp remarks that lacked any real malice, and moments that somehow meant nothing and everything. but what they were is irrelevant. because Poppy’s got a reputation and parental expectations, and AJ doesn’t fit into any of that.

so, they stand in the front yard of some frat house, a New Year’s party raging on inside, and fight. they shout and cuss and say things that don’t at all mean but that make this whole thing easier.

it’s with ten seconds of the year left that Poppy says, “i hate you,” and feels something break in her heart.

“i hate you, too,” AJ says as the countdown finally reaches zero.

there’s cheering from inside and then AJ leaves and now Poppy’s standing alone on the front lawn. she ignores the tears that fall down her cheeks and tries to tell herself that everything will be fine.

so, yes, that’s how they start: in the final ten seconds of the year with an i hate you that actually means something else entirely.

ii. Valentine’s Day.

she sees AJ sporadically throughout the day. and that irritates Poppy like nothing else ever has. figures it would be today of all days that she sees her everywhere.

first it’s at the crack of dawn as she walks home after a one night stand that she spots AJ on a jog. they’re on opposite sides of the street, but it’s empty so they see each other.

AJ stops in her tracks and looks right at Poppy, not exactly irritated but certainly not pleased. Poppy fixes her with a glare that says what are you looking at? AJ shrugs and starts up on her jog again, and Poppy huffs and continues on her walk home.

then they see each other on campus way too many times—in the café, on the quad, and in the library. and each time, Poppy’s glare is met with a shrug from AJ.

the last time she sees AJ it’s late. the sun has long since set and there’s a chill that’s set in for the night. she’s on her way home from dinner—some blind date Veronica had set up—when she spots AJ across the street, laughing and walking hand-in-hand with some girl who looks vaguely familiar.

Poppy watches them until she can’t see them anymore, and wonders if AJ saw her this time, too.

iii. spring break.

she goes to Miami for the week with Veronica and Chloe. her intention is to have a fun and carefree week where she doesn’t once think about AJ.

it’s two days into her trip when she finds herself scrolling through Instagram late one night. curiosity nibbles at her restraint until she’s typing AJ’s name into the search bar.

she finds AJ’s profile and the first picture she sees is some candid shot of AJ and that same girl from Valentine’s Day looking at each other with ridiculously cheesy smiles. Poppy switches her phone off and doesn’t dare touch it for the rest of the night.

Poppy goes to a party the next night and hooks up with a girl who looks a lot like AJ. Veronica and Chloe point this out a few days later, laughing over cocktails. Poppy scoffs and tells them that’s complete bullshit and tries to hide her blush by taking a long sip of her drink.

iv. summer break.

the academic year ends and Poppy sighs with relief as she collapses onto her bed. she’s got three months until her final year starts, and three months where she doesn’t have to see or think of AJ.

it goes well at first—the not thinking about AJ. she spends a lot of time shopping and partying and lounging by the pool of her parents’ beach house on Long Island. but there are only so many hours of the day where she can keep her mind busy. so it’s at night, when she’s in bed trying to fall asleep, that her mind wanders back to AJ.

the first time it happens, she groans and rolls onto her side, and tries to flush all thoughts of AJ from her mind. that works. but then it happens again and again, and before Poppy really knows it, it’s halfway through August and she’s thought of AJ every single night since the end of June.

she lays awake in bed and watches the fan on the ceiling spin in lazy circles. her brain summons a long and near forgotten memory of a night a lot like this. she closes her eyes and sinks into the warm embrace of the memory:

she was in bed with AJ. it was either late or early, Poppy can’t quite remember. she decides it probably doesn’t really matter. they were talking and laughing under the quiet blanket of night. and Poppy suddenly remembers how she’d reached for AJ’s hand and never wanted to let it go.

Poppy opens her eyes and glances to her side. the bed is empty beside her, the sheets untouched, and she can almost feel the ghost of AJ’s touch on her hand. she squeezes her eyes shut, trying not to cry, and realises she never did hate AJ. she was probably just scared.

v. Halloween.

there’s a party on campus—isn’t there always? a frat party with costumes and decorations and cheesy music that starts to sound alright after three or four drinks. Poppy slips in later in the night, when everyone’s teetering on the edge of tipsy and drunk.

she moves through the throng of people towards the kitchen to pour herself a drink, and bumps into AJ for the first time this semester.

“hey,” AJ says, awkward and unsure, and Poppy silently regrets everything she’s put her through.

“hi,” Poppy says, smiling and really meaning it.

that seems to loosen AJ up a bit, and she returns the smile in kind.

“haven’t seen you in a while,” AJ says, leaning back against the counter and sipping her drink.

“been busy,” she lies even though that’s something she’s trying to stop.

and AJ seems to understand the lie for what it is. “you wanna go outside for a bit?”

Poppy only nods, afraid that if she speaks, she’ll ruin whatever’s happening right now. it’s quieter outside, the cheesy music and chatter nothing but a gentle murmur. they stand out on the front lawn of some frat house and Poppy gets a strange sense of déjà vu.

“i wish things had been different, y’know?” AJ says, her voice a gentle reassurance.

“me too,” Poppy says, and then: “i’m sorry that i said i hate you. because i don’t.”

a moment of silence passes, uncomfortable and almost tight like a rubber band pulled to its limit. because it looks like AJ’s about to say something important that’ll put them on a better path. but then the front door of the frat house flies open, and a few drunk students stumble out into the yard.

AJ offers Poppy a smile, almost sad and longing. “it was nice seeing you again.” and then she heads back inside.

vi. Thanksgiving.

Poppy doesn’t plan on visiting her parents this year. and besides, they’re going out of town for the holiday. so if she has to be alone, she’d rather it be in the sorority house than in some stuffy brownstone on the Upper West Side.

it’s late in the afternoon when Poppy gets a text from AJ. all it says is are you at the sorority? she stares at it for a moment, debates deleting it and carrying on with her day. but something tells her to respond, so she does.

she says that she is and waits for AJ’s response. she waits five minutes, then ten and nothing comes. Poppy scoffs and tosses her phone onto her bed. it’s not long later when she hears a knock on the front door. Poppy doesn’t think much of it, so she answers it without checking.

she finds AJ standing on the front stoop, grinning like she knows something Poppy doesn’t.

“what are you doing here?” Poppy says. “i thought you’d be on your way home by now.”

“i’m getting an early flight tomorrow.” then AJ holds up a plane ticket, grinning like this has been her plan all along. “and i was wondering if you’d want to come with me.”

“what?”

“come home with me. my parents always cook too much food, so really, you’d be doing them a favour.”

Poppy folds her arms over her chest and studies AJ for a moment. “don’t you want to take your girlfriend,” she says, and maybe she wants her words to hurt a little bit.

“we broke up over the summer,” AJ says, simple and easy.

“oh. sorry.”

“don’t be. it wasn’t working out and hadn’t been for a while.”

“are you trying to use pity to get me to come with you?” Poppy says, and she knows AJ wouldn’t, but it’s kinda fun to mess with her.

“no, of course not! i just wanted to be upfront with you. so, come home with me. please.”

Poppy plucks the ticket from AJ’s hand and says, “i’m only doing this for your parents.”

“of course.” AJ winks and grins. “i’ll see you bright and early at the airport tomorrow then.

the flight is uneventful, although Poppy decides AJ is much too cheerful for seven o’clock in the morning.

when they step inside AJ’s childhood home, Poppy’s immediately struck by just how warm and lived in it all feels. AJ’s mother tells her to mind the mess as she ushers them both inside, and AJ’s father greets them and says hugs’ll have to wait as he gestures to his dirty apron.

they all cram around a too small table in mismatched chairs that creak and rock back-and-forth. Poppy doesn’t care that she’s sitting shoulder-to-shoulder with AJ and one of her sisters. dinner is loud and fun, and AJ’s parents insist on sharing stories from AJ’s childhood. and as dinner winds down and dessert is served, Poppy reaches for AJ’s hand beneath the table and knows that she’ll never let go.

vii. Christmas.

it’s close to midnight on Christmas Eve when AJ appears on the front stoop of the Zeta house. she looks distraught and like she hasn’t had a good night sleep in days. so Poppy steps outside and asks, “what’s wrong?”

AJ looks at her, really looks at her, and Poppy feels something shift in that moment. and then AJ’s talking, words tumbling from her mouth, and it doesn’t look like she can stop herself. then she says i love you and everything goes still.

it takes a moment, but AJ seems to catch up to what she’s just said. her eyes go wide, and Poppy can see that she’s gearing up to apologies. but Poppy doesn’t let her. she surges forward and hug AJ tightly because oh god, i’ve missed her so much.

Poppy doesn’t say the words back, not yet anyway. but she holds onto AJ and tries to show her that she loves her, too.

viii. New Year’s Eve.

naturally, this is where they end. although end in a very loose sense of the word. because they will be something after tonight. something supportive and challenging, but most importantly something real.

they will be promises of forever, witty remarks that are just an i love you in disguise, and moments where the rest of the word falls away and it’s just the two of them together. what they will be terrifies Poppy. because she’s got a reputation and parental expectations, and AJ doesn’t fit into any of that... right?

maybe. but maybe it’s good that AJ doesn’t fit into that. maybe it’s good that AJ had upended everything she thought she knew. maybe that’s what makes what they will be so damn perfect.

so, they stand in the front yard of some frat house, a New Year’s party raging on inside, and finally admit what’s been there all along. they talk and tease and say things they mean with all their heart.

it’s with ten seconds of the year left that Poppy says, “i love you,” and feels that final piece of her heart heal.

“i love you, too,” AJ says as the countdown finally reaches zero.

there’s cheering from inside and then AJ steps closer to Poppy, smiling so bright and warm, and Poppy twists her arms around AJ’s neck and doesn’t once care that she’s probably smiling like an idiot in love.

so, yes, that’s how they end: in the final ten second of the year with an i love you that means exactly what it claims.

#my writing #poppy x mc #poppy min sinclair #queen b #playchoices #this story 100% ignores canon #it also combines a number of holiday related requests i've gotten but just didn't get around to writing #hope that's all good :)