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wastelandlovingscenarios · 3 years

Text

regret | deacon x sole survivor

“i don’t feel the same way, charmer.” his voice was barely a whisper.

sole felt a lump grow in their throat as they tried to fight back the tears that threatened to escape. they tried to let out a simple, “okay, i understand,” but only silence filled the air.

deacon knows. he catches the tears building up in their eyes and knows their voice is silently attempting to scratch its way out.

he desperately wants to stop their pain, wipe their tears and remind them that he thinks no differently of their relationship, but something in his heart tugs as sole fights back to hide their vulnerability from him. “i’m sorry.” is all he truly lets out because in reality, his words are just as lost as soles own.

to sole, his words become a blur. their knees become weak as their vision becomes clouded with tears they refuse to let out.

‘i’ll give them time,’ he thinks but his feet struggle to find movement as he continues to stare down at sole, speechless for the first time in a long while.

before he could make a move, sole rushes out of the room, not sparing him a second glance. the sound of the door shutting behind him breaks deacon out of his trance, grounding him back to reality.

a tinge of regret pokes at his heart and he silently pushes it away, knowing that this was for the best. he didn’t have feelings for them and it was nothing but the truth.

or so he thought.

the next few weeks are almost a blur for him as his partner goes mia from the commonwealth. the first two weeks, he tries to let it be, convincing himself that sole might’ve needed some time to themselves to sort their feelings out, so he lets them. seeing them might be the last thing they need, so he tries to fight the urge to do so.

yet, as time goes by, the worry in his heart rapidly grows when they’re announced as missing by the minutemen. he grows unnaturally quiet upon hearing their words and feels himself grow weak at the possibilities of what could’ve happened to his partner.

searching far and wide did almost nothing for him and only flared his concern. there was little to no clues of their disappearance and the hope that he would find them sooner or later began to slowly deteriorate.

deacon takes in a deep breath, trying to soothe his mind of all the concern and regret. how could he let it get this bad? why couldn’t he at least check up on them day to day instead of running away?

deep down, he knew the truth of it all. it screamed volumes to him and no matter how much he tried to silence it, it grew louder with every passing second. he avoided sole as much as they avoided him because deacon refused to confront the truth between them both. he never provided closure because he never knew how to.

and the more he refused to face the reality of the situation, the longer the days stretched. he found himself pushing everyone away, spending countless nights with tears streaming down his face, hoping someday sole would just turn up on the railroads doorstep. he didn’t care if they forgave him or not— he just wanted to see them safe.

tonight, he found himself with a bottle in his hand, hunching over the counter as he drank the night. he silently thanked lady luck for landing him in an almost empty bar for no one to catch the state he put himself in. unbeknownst to him, a certain mercenary watched his back from the minute he’s entered the bar till the very last drop of his nth bottle.

“you know, i don’t think that’s a very healthy thing to do.” deacon looked over his shoulder, and though his vision continued to spin, he automatically recognized the annoying face that pestered him.

“let a man ‘ave fun, asshole.” he slurred, trying to push out a grin. maccready rolled his eyes and occupied the seat near deacon, folding his arms.

“i’m serious.” mac pulled the bottle away from his hands, tossing it to the bin nearby.

“hey, i was-!” before he could finish, the mercenary cut him off, not wanting to listen to a word that left his mouth. “do you wanna talk about it?”

his words cut through the facade he tried to pull off and deacon immediately fell silent upon his words. “i know we don’t meet eye to eye all that much, but i hate to see you like this.”

as much as he wanted to lie to his face, continue his said facade, he wasn’t physically able to upkeep that image anymore. it was extremely tiring, especially with everything going on. he let out a sigh and allowed his head to fall on his arms that rested on the table. “you wouldn’ understan’.”

theres a pregnant pause, but he eventually responds. “i don’t, but i could try.”

it takes him a few moments to decide whether or not to confide in someone, especially maccready of all people. to his dismay, the words leave his mouth before he could stop himself from letting it out.

“you won’t tell?” it’s a point of no return— he knows — but for some reason, he doesn’t take it back. was the consequences of actions finally getting to him? probably. he didn’t have time to think as maccready let out a small, but shocked, “of course.”

and so he lets it out— not everything — but enough for maccready to get the message. how it all lead up this point and how it contributed to their disappearance.

“i think i made a mistake.” he says, voice barely a whisper. “i made a huge fucking mistake and i don’t know what to do.”

mac looks down at agent with sympathy, detecting the pain trapped in his voice and sighs, “we all do. it’s just the human in us.”

the rest of his words grow obscured as his eyes droop, the alcohol and sleepless nights finally catching up to him. slowly, but surely, the world blacks out.

it’s almost dreamlike— the feeling of his hair being brushed softly and the way a familiar voice lulls him awake. he lets out a small groan as his head pounds violently from what he hoped was the night before. he thinks it’s all in his head; the soft touches and the soft voice that continued to fall upon his ears. it’s so painfully familiar, yet it couldn’t be but he felt his heart jump at the possibility of it.

“sole?” his eyes shoot open but close back in an instant as the gentle light illuminating from the window cracks filled his vision. his head dips on what seems to be their lap, trying to block it out desperately. he felt the same hand that brushed his locks rest on top of his eyes to protect it from the sunlight that only made his head throb more.

“morning sleepyhead.” upon hearing that sweet sound, tears began to form in his eyes once more. the one person he’s yearned to see for what seemed like centuries was finally within arms reach. just like that, his tears fell effortlessly, collecting in soles hand as it streamed down his cheeks.

“deacon?” before they could remove their hand to reveal the tears spilling from his eyes, he quickly places his hand on top of theirs as a silent request to keep his eyes hidden.

“i’m sorry.” he chokes out, voice cracking through each word that left his lips, “i’m fucking sorry. i-“ he gently squeezed the same hand that rested on top of theirs. sole remained silent, watching as he spoke through ragged breaths. he tried his best to muster out his apologies, thoughts — feelings — through the pounding of his mind.

“everything i said, it was a lie. it was all a fucking lie just to avoid having some kind of attachment in my life. i hurt you because i was scared of facing my fears.”

“lie? scared? deacon, what-,” their words drifted into nothingness as deacon continued on.

“no matter how much i tried to run away from it, i knew i couldn’t. i had feelings for you. feelings more than this partnership that we both agreed to do, more than the best friends we claimed to be.” at this point, his feelings poured through the cracks of his heart and he knew that he would fix it this time, even if sole no longer felt the same way. “i fell for you hard. i was in love with you and i still am, sole.”

after a deep breath, he continued on. “you don’t have to forgive me. you don’t even have to give me the chance to love you properly, i just want you to know i’m sorry. i’m sorry it had to take you to leave from my life for me realize how much this meant to me. how much you meant to me.”

for a moment, it’s still; the air seems tense at first and time seems to freeze. there’s this sense of fear that overtakes his mind for a mere second.

soon enough, time seems to continue on as sole places a soft kiss on his forehead, allowing it to linger for a few seconds. “we’ll talk about this more when you wake up, okay?” they whisper and as reassuring as it sounds, he’s still terrified. terrified that he’ll wake up alone.

“will you be here when i wake up?” he tries to let it out calmly, but there is a hint of panic and unsureness in his voice he couldn’t push away any longer. all of that seems to melt away as sole lets out a small chuckle, his heart swelling with a mix of pain and relief.

“yes.” they reassure, “i’ll be here for as long as you need me.”

he let out a relieved sigh, keeping his hand on top of the one that covered his eyes. for the first time in weeks, everything finally felt right.

“love you, charmer.” before he could hear their reply, he felt himself being pulled into slumber that quietly called his name.

#fallout #fallout 4 #fallout 4 companions react #fallout 4 companions #fallout 4 reacts #fallout fanfiction #fallout reacts #fallout reactions #fallout x reader #deacon/sole survivor #deacon x sole survivor #deacon x reader #deacon #angst #happy ending #one shot

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otvlanga · 3 years

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Hc: Miraak has a huge crush on the LDB but doesn’t know how to convey his feelings and is just super awkward with romance in general

okay LOOOONG post time because I love last the dragonborn/first dragonborn shit OKAY. Very long post because god dammit, I ramble too much. This might sound like a toddler wrote it.

Miraak literally hasn’t seen another human being in 4,000 years, he probably loses his shit when the feeling of just being attracted to someone punches him in the face.

He’s just chilling on a giant book in Apocrypha, dipping his toes in the ink water or something and planing how exactly he’s going to kill the Dragonborn to the very detail. Then they actually arrive in Apocrypha, and the very fibers of their souls are screaming out to each-other like “same hat!”, and it feels like every inch of himself is burning on the inside, while the outside remains blandly mild in the stale humid air of Apocrypha.

But he’s a strong minded man, so he swallows it down and continues on with his edgy monologue. He tells the Dragonborn he must kill them, but he can hardly bare hearing the words come from his own mouth as they’re paralyzed on the ground right in front of him. He can practically taste the power radiating off them, layers and layers of dragon souls woven together and wrapped around their own soul, the very soul he knew the in’s and out’s of despite not knowing a thing about the person that it belonged to.

And THEN the poor man’s brain is like “oh no they’re hot” and he's dealing with emotions and thoughts that he hasn’t had since before the first era. He can’t even remember the faces of anyone he used to know, or whether or not he liked looking at them. All he knows is that he’s seeing a face that looks so foreign but feels so familiar, and he does like looking at it, and he doesn’t know why he does. All he knows is that the dragon soul inside of him is thrashing within it’s flesh prison, desperate to be as close as possible to it’s only match.

Dragons by nature, are not empathetic or familial creatures. They can be, as such is the case with Paarthurnax, but it is not an instinct they have embedded in them like mortals do. Miraak is a human, cursed to the same raw feelings as any other would be. Dragon souls vibrate with each other on a level that human souls do not. A dragon can always feel another dragon.

That sense of automatic familiarity paired with the inherent human desire for love and belonging? Paired together they do not bode well for a man trying to kill the only other living being in the universe who understands him. The only one. Every dov is a piece of Akatosh, all siblings in a special way, but no dragon will ever think, feel, and care the same way humans do. He could never find solace in the company of a dragon.

Now that their souls have had a glimpse of each other, every moment he spends thinking of killing them sends the dragon inside of him wreathing in agony and distress, something dovah are not accustomed to feeling. Before he realizes it, he’s going out of his way to appear in spectral form in front of them to absorb the souls of their kills. He finds himself speaking to them, lingering for a few moments longer than necessary, invigorated just by the feeling of being near them in an intangible spectral form.

He tries to convince himself that all these odd things he’s feeling are just his inner dovah aching for the power of absorbing their soul. He tells himself that after he kills them, it will all go away, and he’ll be able to finally tear free from Apocrypha. (hes dumb forgive him its been a while)

He has no need to show off, all he needs is to get the job done and over with as quickly as possible. And yet, he casts Dragon Aspect on himself without even realizing it, dancing around them in combat and stalling, using the Thu’um when he doesn’t even need to. He doesn’t realize that his actions mimic a dragon’s, bringing as much focus on themselves when they want to appear boastful and magnificent, rare moments of civility and friendly indulgence where they bask in each other’s vanity and challenge each other in friendly competition.

The dragon companions he keeps with him in Apocrypha are very confused as to why he’s technically doing the dragon equivalent of flirting when he’s supposed to be killing them and reaping their power. Humans are so weird amirite?

If the Dragonborn spares him and finds a way to free him from Apocrypha and team up with him, he would not be able to properly address or recognize his feelings for a long time. It’s not until he’s grown accustomed to seeing couples hold each other close in the cold and whisper sweet things to each other, or heard a few sappy love songs/poems from bards that it starts to dawn on him. And when it does, he’s distressed because he remembers next to nothing about what it means to care for someone. Even in his time as a Dragon Priest under Alduin’s rule, he didn’t get to indulge in petty things like love and affection. His role was a full time commitment. Of course he had seen people courting each other outside of just having children, but he had never experienced that himself.

He’d show his affections in very strange ways, because he isn’t quite sure how to say it, and he’s still in partial denial of it all. It would be borderline annoying and obsessive things, like insisting on healing all of the LDB’s wounds even when they’re perfectly capable of doing it themselves, or needlessly jumping in front of them during battles with dragons because he gets over-protective without realizing it. It gets to the point where the LDB has to pull him aside like ”bro what the fuck is your problem it’s getting exhausting” and then cue the cheesy awkward and dramatic fanfiction love admission trope.

also do u like, know how INSANE it would be to the rest of Tamriel if TWO Dragonborns of legend teamed up, let alone got married or something? They would probably be two of the most important and powerful people alive. Especially with all the forbidden knowledge Miraak had obtained over the few millennia he spent in Apocrypha. Like, I’m serious. If they defeated Alduin together and saved the world? They would probably be worshiped. They would almost be Talos level of worshiped, eventually.

also just like imagine if they took power over the Empire. Like, a Dragonborn emperor and Dragonborn (whatever your ldb idenitifes as, empress/emperor/sovereign/etc) and maybe secured a new ‘Dragonborn’ bloodline/heired family. And the LDB would have Odahviing and Parrturnax on their side. Just imagine the power they’d have.

I’ve been meaning to write a fic about that for a long time actually. I’ll get to it soon I swear.

#miraak #skyrim #dragonborn #long ass post #headcanons #tes #the elder scrolls #tesv #ldb #dovahkiin #alduin #paarthurnax #apocrypha #hermaeus mora

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ultimateluckystudent-writes · 3 years

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hello! if this isn’t too weird, i’d like to request nagito and his fem s/o being heard having...seggs...... (maybe? possibly? perhaps? you can include the seggs scene?? if it’s not too much..) and the next morning their classmates are literally like 🧍‍♂️🧍🏻‍♀️ and it’s so awkward 😭😭 I CAN JUST IMAGINE HIYOKO AND MAHIRU LIKE 😀🤬 and everyone else like 😅😐please don’t feel obligated to do it but if you do then thank you so much!!! have a great day/night

Nagito and S/O being overheard

Anon, you're a genius. Absolutely, this is my favorite request I've gotten so far I had to do this first (even... if I'm... really late) It kind of spiraled into a little fic with smut and fluff but eh, the more the merrier right?

-Mod Usami

Word Count: 1.9k

Content Warnings: Island Mode AU! Some smut at the beginning, the rest is pretty fluffy. If you don't wanna read it, skip to where you see *****

“Fuck! Oh, fuck, yes!” Nagito’s hips hit yours with a fervor that was unfamiliar but completely welcome. His long, bony fingers held your waist tightly to hold himself steady as he fucked you while you lay on your back. Above you, he had a look of complete focus as he worked to keep up his pace. Usually he was quite gentle with you, making you take the reins if you wanted something rougher, but tonight he touched you with a drive you couldn’t place.

It had been much the same earlier, when he brought you off the first time eating you out; however, you had grown accustomed to Nagito’s eagerness when his face was between your legs. You’d been much too distracted by that very tongue laving your clit to notice any difference. When his hips slotted between yours though, the difference was so clear.

One of Nagito’s hands moved from its place on your torso to the back of your thigh, pushing it back towards you gently. His eyes remained locked on yours, and though his pace didn’t relent, his eyes were soft and questioning. When you could moaned in response, he couldn’t help but grin to himself a bit. The new angle allowed him to go even deeper,

“My hope...” He choked out, obviously attempting to remain steady even while he was so pleased. “I- you- you sound beautiful already and- and I know this is a selfish request-”

“Wh- What do you want, Nah- ah! Nagito!” You’d meant to continue on, but it was rather difficult. Your fingers dug into the sheets. Nagito moaned aloud at his name, his brows furrowing.

“Yes! My- my name! Just like that!”

“Of course, my pretty boy.” You managed to give him a sloppy half-smile. You let your head fall back once more as he continued. “Nagito! Oh, ah, Nagito! Fuck, baby you’re- you’re so good!” Your hand began to reach down to your clit, but his voice interrupted you.

“P- please, allow me-” He adjusted himself so he was pressed further down into you, one arm supporting himself on the bed and the other beginning to rub circles around your clit, one of your legs over his shoulder. All at once you were enveloped in how good he was making you feel, and knew you weren’t going to last long.

“Oh, Nagito, Nagito, Nagito!” Your voice was almost a whisper, chanting his name like a prayer. The leg not already against him came to wrap around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper. “I’m- I’m close-”

“Yes!” He moaned. “Please, please cum for me- I want to see you, I wanna see you-”

“Nagito!” A particularly electric motion from his hands caused your own to fly into his hair. “Nagito, Nagito- ah!” Your legs shook as you came, left trembling in his hands, and he didn’t last much longer. As he came, he leaned down as much as he could while still pumping into you to kiss and bite down on your neck. He peppered kisses all over you as you both lie in the aftershocks, panting in between nips and kisses. At last, he sucked hard on a spot by your pulse point, making you shiver while he marked you. “Nagito...” You whined. “You’re gonna leave marks...”

“Forgive me, my love, I selfishly crave nothing more than to see you completely marked up by my hand.” He murmured, his voice breathy and sleepy. You giggled, a bit out of it yourself.

“You talk funny.” You nudged him to move and he finally stood back up and wiped the sweat off of his brow. After cleaning up a bit and hitting the light, the two of you crawled back into bed to finally get some rest. You held his head close to your chest and played with his hair, and you were quickly asleep. Nagito needed to try a bit harder to fall asleep. He was facing the window he’d noticed he’d left open earlier, and tried not to laugh too much and make you stir.

*****

“Good morning everyone! It’s another beautiful day on the island! Please eat breakfast and do your very best today! Love, love!” Usami's voice crackled through the tv in your room. You internally groaned, upset that you could never find a way to turn that damn monitor down, until the events of last night came back to you. You smiled to yourself as you pulled Nagito closer, right while he was in the middle of a yawn.

“Morning breath.” You grumbled, moving to kiss him on the cheek.

“Nobody made you kiss me in the middle of my yawn. Least of all me.” He protested, but he sounded pleased. “Good morning.” You simply grumbled in response, tucking your face into the crook of his neck. “We’re expected at breakfast eventually.”

“So what?” You grinned deviously and peeked open your eyes just enough to press hot, open-mouthed kisses to his neck. He made a little squeaking noise and tilted his head to give you more access.

“Ah- as much as I- oh- enjoy your intimacy...” He swallowed hard, as if he was preparing himself for what he was going to say next. You didn’t relent. “We really shouldn’t do this every time we wake up together- we end up la- hah- hmm.” His voice died down into a hum as you began to suck on his neck. “Didn’t you complain about marks just last night?” His voice was strained. His hands found your sides and held on tight, despite his hesitant words.

“Yeah, but they’re probably already there, so it doesn’t matter now, does it?” You said in between your kisses. You pulled away just for a second to see that you were in fact leaving red marks something deep within you hoped would bloom into something darker. My precious boy… maybe they’ll all stop being so rude to you if they understand you’re mine.

“Well, there wouldn’t have been anything to connect it to me.” He said seriously. A laugh bubbled up out of you. “What?”

“Nothing.” You lied. Nothing would connect it to you except all the time we spend together, the way you cling to me when other people are around, those puppy-dog eyes you give me in front of everybody whenever we’re sent to collect in different areas… “But your logic is flawed.” You argued, moving to straddle his hips. He looked awestruck under you, something that made you falter for a moment. “Everyone else would know it wasn’t them, and that would likely narrow it down because...”

“Because?”

“You’re not the best liar when asked something directly, Ko-chan.” You giggled, tapping him on the nose. His eyes crossed trying to follow it.

“You’re probably right.” He beamed. You rolled your eyes. He seemed like he was in too good of a mood now to disagree with anyone. You leaned down to kiss his forehead and your feet finally found their way onto the floor. You felt much more energized now. You and Nagito began to get ready for the day. Nagito had begun to keep clothes in your cabin at your insistence and desire to have as much time with him in bed in the mornings. Still, between your conversations and extra kisses you both snuck, you found yourself late to breakfast.

“You don’t want to walk in separately?” He asked. “It might be rather… suspicious if we walked in at the same time. Especially with… these.” He gestured at your necks, which were marked up in matching fashion, though yours were a bit darker due to time. Despite his words, you’d seen the way Nagito smiled when he caught sight of himself in the mirror earlier, something you hadn’t seen him do… ever.

“I don’t mind, really, Nagito.” You took his hand and kissed his knuckles, making him blush once more. His face was already almost permanently red around you. “Besides, it’s not like anyone actually cares if we’re fucking… they probably won’t think at all about ”

“Ah...” Nagito pursed his lips as you finished climbing the stairs to the hotel’s restaurant. “About that...” His words fell on deaf ears however, as you pushed open the doors. All your classmates were already there, and though you expected to be able to slip in without much notice, all conversation paused as the two of you walked in. Everybody’s eyes turned to you at once.

“Good mo-or-orning lovebirds!” Ibuki sang, waving her utensils and accidentally splattering some of her food onto Byakuya. You froze completely, your eyes widening.

“Good morning, Mioda-san.” Nagito said from behind you. You turned to him, but he seemed most unfazed. There was still a light blush on his cheeks, but you couldn’t tell if that was from earlier or now.

“Mioda-chan!” Mahiru said crossly. “We agreed I would talk to them about it first!”

“Oh, fuck.” You covered your face with your hands. “Oh my fucking God. They all already knew.”

“Well… if it helps, we- we didn’t know until last night.” Mikan laughed nervously, before her own eyes widened. “Oh no! That probably doesn’t help! I’m so sorry, Koizumi-san!”

“Last night? What- oh no.” You could feel your face begin to burn. “Did.. did you...”

“A lot of us… heard you last night, yes.” Chiaki nodded. “Though I believe it was mostly the girls, as it came from the girls’ side of the dorms.”

“Komaeda, my man, I never thought I’d say this but like… how’d you do it?” Kazuichi asked.

“Now is not the time Soda-san!” Sonia chided. “(L/N)-san, did he at least pay you first?”

“I’m gonna do it.” You whispered to yourself. “I’m gonna walk into the ocean and never come back-”

“It’s somehow not that sort of deal. I keep trying but-” Nagito shrugged. You turned and glared at him furiously. “I sense I’ve made a mistake of some sort.”

“She doesn’t make him pay!” Hiyoko smirked, and just from the look you knew you wouldn’t like where this was going. “We all heard last night how much of a cum dump you are!” Several people gasped. Your face froze in what must have looked like a delirious grin. Your mind wouldn’t even register the words she was saying.

“I wish I could have heard.” Teruteru whined. “I’m sure the lady sounded… orgasmic in more than one sense of the word.”

“Haha!” Nagito said the words instead of actually laughing as he stepped out in front of you. He was smiling, but his eyes were cold. “I believe, besides last night, those sounds are usually reserved for me.”

“Whatever, weird choice aside, if she’s getting it from who she wants it’s cool!” Akane said around a mouthful of egg. “As long as she keeps it down! I almost didn’t make it to my early morning run today!”

“Thank you for getting us back to the point, Owari.” Byakuya sighed. “I hate this conversation with a newfound passion. Keep it down, please. Make sure your windows are closed.”

“What? But my windows are almost always closed!” You protested, thankful for the further change. “We’ve got AC, why would I-”

“It doesn’t matter!” Fuyuhiko groaned, shoving his chair away from the table. “And now I’ve completely lost my appetite. Can we go, Pekoyama?” She gave a curt nod, and they left to clear their plates.

“That’s cool! I’m gonna throw myself off one of the bridges today anyways!” You waved at them all. “Toodaloo!” With that, you began to walk away.

“She’s joking… I think.” You heard Nagito say behind you.

“I’m not!”

“...I’ll go with her. Ah, we’ll see you all at morning delegations- hey, wait up!”

#nagito komaeda #nagito x reader #nagito komaeda x reader #danganronpa #dr2 #bunnywrites #request

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slytherinnbitch · 3 years

Text

Accident Part 2

Part 1 of Accident

Exactly 2 days and 17 hours after Malfoy had dissolved their marriage and left, Harry's memory came back. The impact of it was so bad that he was screaming his lungs out by the time a nurse came to check and she immediately called for Healer Malfoy-Potter.

Harry is on the verge on unconsciousness when Malfoy had finally came in, he gives him a vile looking potion and his vision blacks out.

When he woke up again, he was staring at the same white ceiling as always. His head is pounding, he scrunches his face slightly and looks to his left expecting his exasperated husband as always. He finds Hermione instead, with Ron on his other side.

"Where's Draco?" That's the first thing that comes out of his mouth. Hermione looks pained, so he turns to Ron and he has an almost identical expression. And then all of it crashes down on him.

The waking up, and seeing Draco and then oh god- and then taunting him and playing with all his weaknesses and everything that he had vowed to never do again. He had done exactly all that and so much more. Fucking piece of unworthy shit, that's what he is because Merlin he has fucked up so badly that it was surpassing all scales.

And he had asked for a divorce and...and Draco had readily accepted it, as he said....was his faith. And shit shit shit, Reg. What had he told Reg? He needs to grovel at Draco's feet, hopefully he would forgive Harry. And- he can't even think about it anymore.

He closes his eyes, hoping the mortifying feeling would go away. It doesn't. Not even one bit.

"Judging by your reaction, mate. I guess you remember all of it?" Ron asks tentatively, breaking his internal war.

"Yeah fuck."

"I still don't understand why he just did that, why did he listen to you and divorce you?" Hermione inquires because of course she doesn't understand.

"Because that's what he said he would do. He said it at the beginning of the relationship, he'll free me if I ever wanted him to, with no explanations whatsoever. I had told him, he shouldn't hold his breath over that." He smiles ruefully at the memory, Draco had shaked his head at that and kissed him. It had been an excellent day.

"Could either of you just call him? He is my Healer so he must be here, right?" He asks hopefully, something in their eyes tells him that he is very very wrong. They are excused from answering him when Zia enters. She is an assistant to Draco and under his wing, one of his best students.

"Hey Zia!" Harry greets her brightly, just because he is going through internal war doesn't mean he'll just give up his manners.

"Oh, hey Harry. So I conclude your memories are back?" Zia asks somewhat subdued, it's a weird thing on her. She is usually this bright and happy ray of sunshine, so he frowns.

"Yeah. Where's Draco?" he asks directly, she will probably give him a viable answer, but she looks distinctly uncomfortable so he feels the need to clarify, "You know, your boss, my husband and my healer?"

"Yea, yes. He um went home. Asked me to do the last check-up and then you're good to go."

"Did he say something else?" Harry asks because something tells him he is being withheld from information.

"He asked me to appoint you a new Healer because um he isn't going to handle your cases any longer. He was on this one because he was handling it before you asked for someone." Zia says and she looks heartbroken herself, what has he done!

"I'm so sorry, Harry. I tried to talk to him, he just went all cold and didn't listen to a word of mine. Just threatened to fire me and left." Zia continues and boy, his level of fucked knows no levels because Zia is crying now!

"No Zia, please don't cry. I'll... I'll talk to him, alright? Don't do anything just yet? I fucked up real bad this time, just let me leave and I'll try my best." Harry pleads and Zia hiccups softly. She checks his quickly with red eyes and deems him free to leave.

He is out of the doors within an hour with his best friends at his side.

"Mate, just know that we are here and you're more than welcome at ours if Draco kicks you out or anything yeah?" Ron assures him after he tells them that he is going home. Hermione just hugs him one last time before he apparates away, fervently hoping that Draco hasn't locked him out of the wards. The result of apparating inside while being locked out, especially of their customised wards aren't great.

Thankfully he hasn't, because Harry lands just fine on the doorstep of Grimmauld Place. The door opens on its own, recognising his magical signature.

Just as he closes the door, he hears the tiny footsteps of his baby boy and yeah there he is, sprinting towards him.

"Papaaaa," Reg cries out as he launches himself into his arms and it grounds him. It gives him peace and then enters Draco. He looks proper as always, no one would be able to tell that he is messed up. But no one is Harry Malfoy-Potter.

He notices the tiny, slightly out of place hair strands out of place. The clenched jaw as he tries to keep himself together and how he unconsciously keeps brushing his left arm.

"I missed you. Dada said he didn't know when you be back." Reg mumbles into his neck, it's mostly gibberish but Harry understands one and half year old pretty well, as he hugs him still, then he looks into his eyes with slight tears and says seriously, "Dada was so sad," and then he hugs him again.

He was gone for almost five days, it aches his heart how much he was missed by his little love and how much he is loved. He locks eyes with Draco then, who has the mask set in place properly again. He arches his eyebrow at Harry, a silent question that he can very well understand. He pleads back silently as well to keep it until they are alone. Draco gets it.

"I missed you too, my reggie-teggie. But guess what I won't be going anywhere now and we would have so much fun, won't we? We'll ride on the broom again all around the house while Dada goes to work, innit?" Harry asks and Reg beams at him, "And I'll try to make sure Dada isn't sad anymore, yeah?" And he nods enthusiastically.

"Alright, bed time now." Draco calls after an eternity passes with Harry listening to Reg bringing him up-to-date with everything that going on in his life. It seems very important.

He still isn't actually talking to Harry, not that he expected anything else.

"Can Papa read me a story?" Reg asks and Draco nods his head so he looks at Harry who does the same and then they go to Reg's room.

After he finishes the second story, he looks down beside him to find Reg fast asleep, he slowly and carefully gets out of his bed and tucks him in properly then starts towards the door.

After peering at his sleeping face, Harry closes the door and places a one-way muffiliato charm, so Reg can't hear them but they can still hear him. It would cancel out the minute Reg wakes up and Harry would get an alert. He and Draco had modified it themselves.

He roams around the house in order to find Draco, finally making way into their bedroom where he is sitting with his hands on his lap, waiting for Harry.

He stops breathing as he slowly enters the room. Draco doesn't object so he is fine. When he stops a feet away from Draco. He looks so frail like this, like he hasn't slept or eaten properly in days, he probably hasn't.

"Well, what is it Potter? I would like to sleep." Draco states, his voice ice cold and a slight shiver runs down Harry's spine as he remembers the last time he had been like this. It had been after Harry had gone on a date so many years back, before he came to his senses that is.

"Draco, please. Don't do this." Harry pleads and Draco's eyes flash dangerously.

"You mean I did this? Me, Potter? Me who has been unable to answer my kid why his other father has not come home except for that he is still sick and needs rest? Me who has been-" he stops abruptly and takes a deep, calming breath, "Anyways, my point is I didn't do a thing."

"Draco, you know I don't mean that. And- and I didn't mean any of the shit I said after waking up," Harry tries again, he knows it's futile somewhat but he can't just give up. "I should not have accused you like that. My last self was a number one arsehole."

"Yeah, he was." Draco agrees but he doesn't say anything else.

"I'm sorry that I didn't believe you or my friends or even my own self, I should have." Harry sighs and rubs his eyes under glasses.

Draco remains silent.

"Talk to me, dammit! Shout at me, scream, tell, punch, hex whatever you want to. Just- just don't keep so quiet, it's so much more hurting than the others, please Draco." he snaps after almost two minutes of complete silence.

"And what would you like me to tell you? That I forgive you and you're welcome back in my life? Is that what you think would happen when you came here?" Draco taunts and shit if he doesn't deserve it.

"Because that's not going to happen," Draco continues, he meets Draco's eyes with all his guilt and regret and he feels Draco's barriers snapping, "What to know why, Harry? I don't care because I'm going to tell you anyway." Draco says casually and Harry prepares himself for it.

"Because you fucking dissolved our marriage vows, you utter bastard! You just went and dissolved everything we had the moment you got to know that we were married! And how bloody dare you ask for my rings?" Draco shouts at him, he has tears in his eyes but he keeps on, "Do you know that mother noticed that the tapestry suddenly didn't have your name tied to mine? Just to Reg? She did and so did father. She told me so when I went to pick up Reg. Do you even want to what hell father told me? How he always knew I was wrong and how you would leave me one day and- and now I had a fucking child to my name all alone and he knew I would be a fuck up all along? Do you have any idea what that did to me? How difficult it was for me to keep a facade infront of Reg. Do you, Harry?" He looks at Harry, waiting for an answer.

"I don't..."

"Of course you don't. You have no bloody clue, and you know what you don't need to. You can fuck off whenever you want and I won't stop you. Who the fuck would I be, wasn't that what you said?" Draco rages on, then he says it again, it comes out utterly broken, "Who the fuck, indeed?" And then he sobs, openly, all masks gone.

Harry can't help but move forward and hug him tightly. He is crying himself as Draco tries to wretch himself free.

"Let me go, you prick. Utter prick, with no fucking-" Draco says against himself and Harry shushes him gently.

"Shh, darling. I'm here, I'm sorry but I'm here now, love." Draco struggles some more before he gives up and hugs Harry back tightly. He can't breathe but who needs that when they have Draco Malfoy-Potter in their arms.

When they finally pull apart, Draco's eyes are red and he is still hiccuping.

"I love you," Harry says softly as he caresses his cheek. Draco leans on his hand and mouths the words back.

"You are still not forgiven, just so you know." Draco says and Harry doesn't know what he shall do. He'll do anything, murder if he has to.

"How can I earn it?"

"Do something about our marriage and I'll think about it." Draco replies after a moment of thinking.

"Marry me, again? It's our anniversary in 12 days. We can do it then." Harry suggests, and a small smile seems to tug at Draco's lips.

"And whoever said that I'll marry you. That too for the second time. One time was enough, don't you think?" Draco teases, and he knows he did the right thing this once.

"A million times again, and it still won't be enough."

"Let's keep it to two, yeah?" Draco suggests as he draws Harry close.

"Promise." Harry says and seals it with a kiss. They are going to be okay, again, he thinks as he drowns himself in Draco's love.

Have at your happy ending, sad ending would have been nice but I value my life a little. Tagging @moramystery @cupofsquirrelfan @justthingsfromsarah because y'all specifically asked for a sequel. Altho this isn't all that angsty.

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tennessoui · 3 years

Note

40 or 43 if you’re still taking prompts! i love ur AUs they’re so beautiful and contain so much brilliance within a short snippet!

it's been so long, anon, you probably forgot you sent this but here is prompt 40, exes meeting after not seeing each other for a long time. in true tennessoui fashion, they don't. actually. meet and/or see each other in this snippet. also in true tennessoui fashion, all tennessoui needs to decide to continue this is one (1) validation.

the backstory here is something i have been thinking about for days after a discord convo, where during the fight on mustafar, obi-wan hits anakin hard enough in the head that he loses all of his memories. obi-wan takes him with him for a few months but the wounds of Order 66 and vaderkin's role in what happened is too fresh for obi-wan to (understandably) get over, even if this anakin doesn't remember doing it, so they separate. this is set 8 years after Mustafar.

(1.7k)

“Kenobi won’t come,” the fighter pilot says immediately upon disembarking from his craft.

One commander lets out a groan. Someone else hits the durasteel side of the closest x-wing with a closed fist.

“Do we really need him?” Anakin demands, crossing his arms over his chest. “It’s been eight years since the rise of the Empire. Surely a washed-up Jedi General from the Clone Wars won’t have people jumping to join the Rebellion!”

No one meets his eye. In fact, the air room suddenly feels very, very uncomfortable.

Organa exhales heavily and turns to look at Anakin, which is rare because the man never voluntarily looks at Anakin. “There are few names from that time that still carry an untainted weight in the eyes of the galaxy. Obi-Wan Kenobi is one of them.”

“I grew up hearing about The Team!” A teenager says eagerly. “I’d join any resistance movement if I knew both of ‘em were fighting with me!”

“You’re already a part of a resistance movement,” a girl next to him pointed out waspishly.

The boy waves her off. “Skywalker and Kenobi, saving the galaxy! It’d be wizard to be a part of that, and you know it, Aasha!”

Anakin’s throat tightens at that name. Skywalker. His name. Or, his old name. He has no more connection to it now than he does to the name Kenobi or Organa. They’re just letters.

He catches Organa’s eye. The man is looking at him with a mix of curiosity and wariness. Anakin knows instinctively that this is another one of the man’s tests. Will this time be the time that whatever injury has kept his memories suppressed for eight years is undone, and his previous life comes thundering through his mind?

He’s sick of these tests. He’s never failed one, but Organa never comes closer to trusting him afterward. He can only assume that whatever Anakin Skywalker had done in his last few days alive had been so terrible that only a few people knew the truth, and those who did would never forgive any version of him for it.

Organa certainly knew, though he had never shared that information with Anakin. And.

And Kenobi did as well. That was clear. They’d only been together for five standard months, sharing a small spacecraft made smaller by the fear, agony, grief, fury, and hurt radiating off of his companion into the space around them.

It had been hard to tell at the time if one of the things Obi-Wan Kenobi had been grieving was the loss of Anakin Skywalker. Anakin isn’t sure Kenobi would have been able to answer that either.

Some part of him that usually rests dormant in the back of his mind stirs and hisses that it had to have been. That Skywalker’s loss had torn Kenobi’s soul to shreds.

This doesn’t necessarily feel like his own thought, but it’s quite hard to ignore. He wants to rub a hand against his aching head, but that surely would tip off Organa that something’s--what? That he’s having thoughts?

Perish the very idea.

One would think Anakin hadn’t joined the Rebellion of his own free will. That Anakin hadn’t spent three standard months on the planet Kenobi had left him on before catching wind of the existence of the Rebel Alliance, that he hadn’t risked life and limb (more limb, apparently, given his missing flesh hand) to find them afterwards. He hadn’t known much anything about himself, but he had known that he hadn’t liked what the Imperial troops were doing, how much destruction they were causing, how the people they were supposed to be protecting hid in fear of their white armor.

Something in Anakin had rebelled at that, had thought it wrong and twisted. Someone needs to stop them, he’d thought. So he had found the people that were trying to.

And yes, a small part of him had thought--perhaps hoped--that Obi-Wan Kenobi would be a part of the Rebel Alliance by the time Anakin made his way to their biggest base. He had thought--perhaps hoped--that he would be able to prove himself to the other man. Look, he had wanted to scream at Kenobi, I’m not like that other Anakin, I would never do what he did. You can trust me. You can look me in the eye, I won’t stab you in the back.

Because something in him had yearned, still yearns, for Kenobi’s approval. For the weight of his gaze settling warmly around his shoulders. For his small smiles, his calloused hand clasping the back of Anakin’s head to bring their foreheads together in a gentle tap hello.

These are things Anakin knows he’s never experienced. But he must have in his past life, because his whole body will ache for them like a phantom limb. It’s been seven years and a few months since he last saw Kenobi.

“I’ll go,” Anakin says, which is what he said the last time they were standing like this, huddled around a fighter pilot delivering the same message of failure.

Organa’s mouth tightens in displeasure, and Mothma places a hand on his arm in warning.

Everyone else falls silent around them, as if recognizing the fact that they’re in the middle of a brewing storm, and they’re lucky to be in its eye right now.

“I do not think--” Organa starts, but Anakin cuts him off, crossing his arms even tighter over his chest, as if to hold himself back. The force suppression collar around his neck grows warmer, but it holds. It always holds.

“You’re already sending men who look like me to him!” Anakin points out irately. “The last four men could have been related to me!” It’s something Anakin’s thought about in the past but never said out loud. He’s glad to say it now though, especially because Organa flushes a bit which means Anakin’s right. “Just send me! If it doesn’t work, nothing in the galaxy will!”

Now, Anakin isn’t sure that’s true at all. He’s taking a huge leap with this, but it’s been seven years and a few months since he saw Obi-Wan Kenobi in person, and every part of him is aching with the desire to lay eyes on the man again. Will he hate him still? Will he see all the differences Anakin’s made to his appearance? Will he like them? He fights the urge to run a hand over his shorn hair.

Will Obi-Wan even let him through the door?

The people around them are murmuring now. They don’t know what Organa knows, what Anakin has guessed at: that Skywalker died a traitor to the Republic, that he had tried to strike down Obi-Wan like the Emperor struck down the rest of the Jedi. To them, these fortunate outsiders, they’re wondering why Anakin Skywalker hasn’t already been sent to locate and bring back their errant General.

Before, Anakin’s offer had been quiet, easily ignored over someone else’s. Now he’s loud and confident. Impossible to turn away without making a public scene, without explaining why. And Organa has tried very hard not to do that. For whatever reason, Anakin doesn’t know. All he knows is that after he’d been examined by a battalion of med droids and interrogated by all three leaders of the Rebellion, Organa had given him a list of rules he had to follow in order to join the Rebel Alliance. Firstly, never remove his cuffs and collar.

It’s not a slave collar and it won’t electrocute you if you touch it or try to take it off, Organa had told him when he’d blanched away at the sight. But I have been informed by a trusted ally that the Chance--the Emperor knows your Force Signature intimately. We cannot risk being found. It would kill all hope for us.

Secondly, never confirm his identity. Never talk about who he used to be.

People will know, Organa had grudgingly admitted. Skywalker was one of the faces of the Clone Wars. But you cannot confirm it. In fact.

Thirdly, give up the name Skywalker. Pick another last name, if not first as well.

But Anakin had been attached to his first name for some reason he didn’t know how to begin to question, so even after he toyed with the idea of changing it completely, he couldn’t go through with it. Weeks later he had shown up in Organa’s makeshift office.

I had a mother, didn’t I? He had asked, causing Organa to stiffen immediately.

Do you remember? Organa had interrogated immediately, his standard greeting for Anakin. Anakin had gotten the feeling, especially in those early days, that Organa was waiting with baited breath for Anakin to remember so he could try him for war crimes or treason or whatever it was that Skywalker had done.

No, he had responded honestly. Just a feeling. If I am to take a new last name, I want her name.

A few days later, Anakin had stumbled into his bunk, tired from a day of hard training, to see a packet of documents on his pillow.

Anakin Shmison was written at the top of the first page.

The list of rules goes on and on.

But nowhere does it say that Anakin Shmison isn’t allowed to mention Obi-Wan Kenobi in public. He just never has, because even the sound of the man’s name makes him feel very nauseous, a combination of butterflies and adder snakes wrestling around inside his stomach.

Bail Organa is looking like he’s regretting that oversight right now, but Anakin has backed him quite solidly into a proverbial corner. Either finally tell everyone what happened between Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi in the last few hours of the Republic, or give Anakin Shmison leave to retrieve Kenobi.

“Fine,” Organa gets out, jaw locked and vein throbbing in his temple. Anakin has the distinct feeling he’se spent a lot of his life on the receiving end of that expression. “Have this X-Wing refueled, and leave tonight.”

“No sir,” Anakin says, enjoying the way one of the man’s eyebrows shoot up in angry incredulity.

“No?” Organa asks. “Would you like more beauty rest, perhaps, Shmison?”

“No sir, I don’t need it,” this time he doesn’t resist running a hand through his hair, messing with its part so his longer bangs fall to one side and balance out the mysterious scar that bisects his eyebrow. He grins. “But I will need a craft that sits two. For the return trip.”

#asks #i had a scene planned out where x y z happens and obi-wan lets anakin into his hut/home #and anakin is just like look im a part of the rebellion now!!#and obi-wan 'i use my sarcasm to hide my infinite sadness' is like #'yes im sure the rebellion wouldnt exist without you'#because you know. technically it wouldn't.#but anakin doesnt really get that context so hes like 'stop speaking in tongues old man!!!'#and obi-wan says 'please do not call me that' in the wateriest most loosely strung together voice anakins ever heard #anyways whats happening with me that all im writing is angst #i love happy things and happy endings #obikin #(because they'd get together come on anakin probably has an undercut now and hes thirty obi-wans only a man)#(the bitter resentment is strong but the flesh is WEAK BITCH)#kit to kit: u dont need another wip u really cannot have another wip ur not strong enough for another wip u--#prompt fill

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aro-is-gay-af · 3 years

Text

Slavic Names in Twilight | Meta

This post is going to be long, so if you don’t have time, I advise you to come back here later (or not come back at all, up to you).

Honestly, I have no words for Smeyer anymore. I, probably like most of us, read the books while being an adolescent. When I was 12 I didn’t see a lot of things that happened to be in the books and were: a) misogynistic b) sexist c) abusive d) racist and that the story itself was bound to Mormons (sick!).

If you want to read about it a little bit more I strongly recommend this post by @stregoni-benefici and @carlislesscarf

This post isn’t going to be about how Smeyer treated The Quileute Tribe, indigenous people, people of color or women. This post is going to be about how lazy Smeyer exactly was while creating this story and how her prejudices influenced and created false image of yet another culture.

Why am I making such a fuss because of this? A few days ago I was reading something about Garrett on Twilight Wiki page. By sheer luck, I clicked on Kate’s character and, what I saw there, outraged me to the point where I needed a little while to calm myself.

I was 12 when I first read the books. I never bought official twilight guide, I only used Twilight Wiki to keep myself up to date. I clicked on Kate’s character and saw that she hails from Slovakia. Forgive my utter confusion, when I remembered other sisters’ names. Tanya and Irina. Also, Kate was created by Sasha, who also created Vasilli (an immortal child), which is why she was executed in the first place.

While the story is charming, WHY THE FUCK DO THEY HAVE SUCH NAMES?!

To understand my rage, I need to elucidate the matter a little bit for all of you. This will be the historical part.

According to Twilight Wiki, Sasha was changed before 1000 AD. Then, she created Tanya, and not very long after, Kate and Irina. And now. What were the historical odds while it happened?

Before 1000 AD, Slovakia wasn’t Slovakia but Great Moravia. Great Moravia lasted about a century - the time span here is approximately circa 820 AD to 906 AD. When Great Moravia no longer existed, territory was taken by Hungarians (Magyar tribes also referred to as Hungarian clans) and the development of future Kingdom of Hungary began. Then, around 1000-1001, King Stephan was crowned as the first King of Hungary. Some elements from the former Great Moravia were acquired by The Kingdom of Hungary.

King Stephen managed to establish eight counties within his kingdom. Around 1015 some territories of today-Slovakia were acquired by Boleslav I of Poland (later king of Poland), however, King Stephen managed to recapture the territories in 1018. Wikipedia isn’t consistent here - while on History of Slovakia we have these information, the History of Poland during the Piast dynasty says:

From 1003 to 1004, Bolesław intervened militarily in Czech dynastic conflicts. After his forces were removed from Bohemia in 1018, Bolesław retained Moravia.

and:

[translation here is mine as the site is in Polish] Between 1003 and 1025/1031 the lands of today's Slovakia were part of the Kingdom of Poland after being conquered by Bolesław Chrobry. The Polish-Hungarian Chronicle described that "The Polish borders stretched as far as the banks of the Danube, to the town of Ostříhomia, then to the town of Eger, and further to the river called Ciepla [Topl'a] as far as the town of Salis, and there the borders between Hungarians, Ruthenians and Poles ended".

Than, probably around 1031 AD the territories were acquired back. King Stephen died and his kingdom fell into internal conflicts. Soon, in 1042 AD emperor Henry III mingled to acquire some lands for himself (he was the Holy Roman Emperor). Anyway, then came 1048 AD and that’s what happened:

In 1048, King Andrew I of Hungary conceded one-third of his kingdom (Tercia pars regni) in appanage to his brother, Duke Béla. [...] During the following 60 years, the Tercia pars regni were governed separately by members of the Árpád dynasty. [...] The dukes accepted the kings' supremacy, but some of them (Béla, Géza and Álmos) rebelled against the king in order to acquire the crown and allied themselves with the rulers of the neighbouring countries (e.g., the Holy Roman Empire, Bohemia).

The history of the Tercia pars regni ended in 1107, when King Coloman of Hungary occupied its territories taking advantage of the pilgrimage of Duke Álmos (his brother) to the Holy Land. Although, Duke Álmos, when returned to the kingdom, tried to reoccupy his former duchy with the military assistance of Henry V, Holy Roman Emperor, but he failed and was obliged to accept the status quo.

Source for the two quotes above.

You may ask, why on Earth did I just present to you part of history of Slovakia, Poland and Hungary. Because I want you to understand how completely ridiculous and simultaneously offending are the names of characters that Smeyer gave within this coven.

History shows us that, even though, these times weren’t exactly peaceful, there wasn’t an ongoing war. We have Hungarian tribes and the part, when some territories were acquired by a Polish king. What I mean by that, is that probably names around 1000 AD varied as to where your family lived, what was your social status, and probably were influenced by newly adopted Christianity. It is more likely that people on this lands were named with names of Hungarian origin than Russian. And I still think the majority of names were of Slavic origin, only with some local variations going on.

Now, a little bit of common knowledge. People who descend from Poland, Slovakia, Czech Republic and Hungary are best buddies for life, even if they never saw each other. We have mutual respect for these countries and for ourselves, as our history brought us together multiple times (bad times and good ones). Russia IS NOT a part of this “mutual respect pact”. Mostly due to events that happened during both World Wars (i.e. Katyń Massacre), as well as other ones (Partitions of Poland, Eastern Bloc - communism).

Most of the names used by Smeyer are of Russian (or Greek, or Hebrew) origin. Not Slavic origin. And while Russia is also the part of Slavic languages, there’s a significant distinction between West Slavic Languages (Slovakian, Czech, Polish language), East Slavic Languages (Belarusian, Russian, Ukainian) and South Slavic Languages (i.e. Serbian, Croatian, Bulgarian).

It makes difference to the point that if I go to Slovakia or Czech Republic I'm able to communicate with people in my native language (Polish) while they can answer me in their native language. Not everything is going to be the same but you're able to maintain a conversation mostly about every topic that you'd like to discuss. It isn't impossible to do so with Russian or Ukrainian but it's much harder and there are more differences, and sometimes you aren’t able to communicate this way. The same goes with i.e. Croatian or Bulgarian.

Don’t get me wrong, dear friends from Russia (if anyone from Russia will ever read this). I’m pissed off because even though Smeyer created not one, but four characters with SLOVAKIAN origin, she didn't use at least one name which fully originated in that territories (and probably was used) around 1000 AD. She went for Russian names because, sure, let's do that, there's no big difference anyway and it’s easier. To add to that, Smeyer used Russian names which are widely used NOWADAYS, not ones which were probably popular (or just used) thousand years ago.

Now, quick briefing on very popular names from that time (c. 1000 AD) in Slovakia and Czech Republic.

Here’s the full article on Slavic names.

While some of these names are used today, some of them aren’t at all or are used in a different, more evolved form.

Now, to the names of our characters. The most explainable and justified name here is Kate’s name. In Twilight Wiki we can find that her actual name was Katrina and that her preferable name now is Kate. Let’s see the origins of the name Kate.

Full article here.

While we can read that variations of that name in Czech are: “ Katka, Kateřina, Kačka, Káťa, Kačenka, Káča, Kačí, Kačena” and in Slovakian “Katka, Katarína” still the origins aren’t Slavic.

Next, Irina.

As Wikipedia says:

Irina is a feminine given name of Ancient Greek origin, commonly borne by followers of the Eastern Orthodox Church. It is derived from Eirene (Ancient Greek: Εἰρήνη), an ancient Greek goddess, personification of peace.

Diminutive forms in Slavic languages include Ira, Irinka, Irinushka, Irisha, Irka, Irochka, Irinochka.

Here, we also don’t have Slavic origin. While it’s better than with Kate’s name because origins here seem to hugely blend, the proper origin of Irina’s name is Ancient Greek. I will never believe that a peasant girl from around 1000 AD was named Irina.

Here’s the full article.

Next, Vasilli.

Wikipedia doesn’t say much, except it’s a RUSSIAN NAME with Greek origin.

Full article here.

Now, finally, we’ve two names left. First, Sasha.

Finally, first one, which has Slavic origin. And while this name has many variations in many languages, I don’t believe that anyone in Slovakia prior to 1000 AD would name their child Sasha. This name gained popularity in 1970s, and I believe that it would be used rather as diminutive of a name in 1000 AD than a name itself.

Full article here.

Last, but not least, Tanya.

Here, also, it isn’t a full name. Full name is Tatiana, and Tanya, especially in Slavic it is used as a nickname implying intimacy with the person OR used for baby talk.

Full article here.

What’s my point here? Even though two of these five names are partially Slavic in origin, they sound like Russian names. Not Eastern Slavic in one fucking bit. Sure, Smeyer could do a simplification and say that, yeah, girls acquired other names as centuries passed. Agreed, even strongly.

BUT

Smeyer never said anything like this. Also, I’m under the impression that this names were meant to sound Russian. And, people, don’t get me wrong, I really hold nothing against Russians, but because of doing such thing Smeyer has perpetuated certain patterns and beliefs that have become firmly established in US culture and West culture in general by now.

No wonder why some people never distinguish between Russia, Slovakia, Poland, Czech Republic or Ukraine, or other countries from Easter Bloc. How can they, where in majority of mass media they’re taught that IT IS EXACTLY THE SAME THING. Why should they bother?

I have many friends among Slovakian people. Slovakia is like a second home to me. I also have a few friends from Czech Republic. And before, I’ve never been bothered by this name thing because I was a child. Today I couldn’t be silent about it.

It’s sad that another culture and fantastic history was just blended in with Russia because why not. I don’t understand why in Western movies or books all people from former Eastern Bloc need to be Russian.

I am Polish and to me it’s just extremely sad. We (and I think I can count in here Slovakia, Czech Republic, Hungary, but also Croatia or Serbia) have fantastic culture and very long, eventful history. People from these countries are welcoming and share great hospitality.

I don’t know why Smeyer did something like this, but I suppose it’s just a thing she does to everyone. Rip away their culture and pretend she didn’t do it.

I am grateful that this fandom is a lot wiser than the creator of the books. This is what I said in the beginning of this post. Smeyer could’ve gone to library and read a little about the history and the names. I mean, If she didn’t found it on the Internet, because it was 2006, I believe, so she could research it. If there was nothing on the Internet, I’m sure a library would do.

She did a poor research or didn’t do it at all. And that’s what happened. Was it worth it? I don’t think so.

***

Everyone, please, comment, but be kind to each other (and to me xd). I wrote what I felt. As I’ve told you already, I’m Polish and I really felt that I should write this meta/disclaimer from a point of view of a person who lives in Slavic-origined country and has many Slavic-origined friends.

I still feel triggered because of this. Reblog this so others could see and say what they think.

#twilight meta #slavic culture #polish culture #history #cultural and historical references in twilight #smeyer being an ignorant discourse #smeyer nonsense #this woman is bound to white supermacy #Slavic names #Polish & Slovakian historical background #twilight revival #the twilight saga #smeyer cannot use library properly #neither can she use internet #slovakian culture #why the fuck should you confuse Slovakian people with Russian people?#Hungary mentioned #twilight #twilight saga

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robininthelabyrinth · 4 years

Note

what do you think would happen in a role swap where wei wuxian is the one with an arranged marriage, yanli becomes sect leader, and jiang cheng runs away with the remnants of the wen clan?

“It’s impossible,” Wen Qing said, her voice flat and eyes icy. “Literally impossible. It would kill you both.”

“But –”

“If you don’t care about your own life, at least care about his,” she said, and Wei Wuxian fell silent; she’d hit him right where it hurt the most, and he turned and stormed away.

Wen Qing waited, watching as Wen Ning ran after him, distressed by his distress, and when he was finally out of earshot, she said, “You may regret that, one day.”

Behind her there was a rusty bark of laughter, if that horrible twisted sound, low and grating and rasping at the throat until it bled, could be called a laugh.

“I won’t,” Jiang Cheng said. She’d removed the needles that kept him asleep the day before, though he’d played limp any time Wei Wuxian had come around, and Wei Wuxian had been so excited by his idea that he hadn’t noticed. “Thank you for lying to him.”

“My family killed yours,” she said with a sigh. “The least I can do is save one.”

“If you regret it so much, you can abandon your office and surrender yourself,” Jiang Cheng said, and turned away from her. He hadn’t forgiven her, that much was obvious. “You lead a Supervisory Office. That isn’t a neutral position.”

“I have to keep my brother, and the others, safe,” she said. “You understand that.”

“I understand it. I just think you’re wrong.”

“How am I wrong? Your Jiang sect is gone,” she said, twisting the knife cruelly. “Wen Ruohan has over half the cultivation world under his grip – how are the rest of you going to overcome that?”

“I didn’t say we would win,” Jiang Cheng said. “I said you were wrong.”

Wen Qing opened her mouth and found she had nothing to say. That wasn’t a condition that came naturally to her, so she scowled and changed the subject. “What are you going to do next?”

“Rebuild the Jiang sect.”

“The Jiang sect? But – how…?”

He turned back to look at her. “My golden core is gone, and I’m a good-for-nothing,” he said flatly. “That much is true. But you forget – I still have a sister.”

Jiang Yanli wasn’t a fighter; this much was true. She wept bitter tears when Jiang Cheng and Wei Wuxian finally found their way to her side, horrified by what Jiang Cheng had suffered, what had happened to him. But fighter or no fighter, she knew her duty.

The Jiang Sect had its first mistress. She could not lead them in war – Wei Wuxian did that – but she tended their wounds and sat in all the strategy meetings, giving her thoughts and making the final decision with her brothers’ advice; those who became sect disciples did not feel that their gentle lady, who they came to worship as Guanyin reborn in human form, was anything less than the rest.

“We need more help,” Jiang Cheng, who had become one of his sister’s advisors and learned through painful experience how to ignore (but never not notice) all of the pitying stares that came his way, said. “We’re not doing as much in the war as the other Sects – if we don’t establish a strong alliance with one of them, and soon, we will very soon lose the right to call ourselves a Great Sect.”

“A marriage,” Jiang Yanli said, understanding at once. “But I can’t…”

She was Sect Leader, now. She could not marry the heir of another sect – she would only be able to accept a man who married in, who would agree that his children be named Jiang.

The Jiang sect had to come first.

Whatever dreams she had once had about Jin Zixuan were gone now, burned to ashes in a way that not even a broken engagement could.

“Not you,” Jiang Cheng said. “Wei Wuxian.”

Wei Wuxian looked up sharply. “You want to marry me off?” he asked. “Are you serious?”

Jiang Cheng laughed harshly. It still didn’t sound like a laugh, not even after all these months. “What,” he said mockingly, his bitter voice eerily reminiscent of his mother’s at her most furious. “You expect a cultivator to marry me?”

Wei Wuxian fell silent. It was not that cultivators didn’t marry regular people – it happened quite often. But an arranged marriage, for the purposes of building an alliance?

Even if no children could be expected from the match – it would have to be a cutsleeve marriage, given the lack of daughters among the Four Great Sect, but such things were not uncommon if the real purpose was a political alliance – the minimum requirement for making such an offer was a cultivation base sufficient for dual cultivation. Anything less would be an insult – the same as sentencing the cultivator to a dead end.

The same dead end that Jiang Cheng faced every day.

“Who were you thinking?” Wei Wuxian finally asked. “If you even dare suggest the peacock –”

“Lan Wangji.”

“What?! But he hates me!”

“He’s the best available option,” Jiang Cheng said. “He’s strict in terms of etiquette; regardless of his feelings, he won’t mistreat you. Jin Zixuan is obviously out – even if you didn’t hate him, his parents would never agree to a match with no chance of legitimate descendants, and we’d never accept one of Jin Guangshan’s bastards; it would leave us with no face at all.”

“What about Nie Huaisang?”

“No influence,” Jiang Cheng said simply, and Wei Wuxian grimaced, conceding the point. Even if Nie Mingjue could be coaxed into an agreement, no one in the cultivation world would ever think that the wife of his little brother had any impact on his decisions, and that would defeat the whole purpose of this endeavor. Nie Mingjue was too straightforward, too rigid – marrying Nie Huaisang would be as good as throwing Wei Wuxian’s life away for no purpose.

And that left – Lan Wangji.

“Well, whatever he thinks of me, I always rather liked him,” Wei Wuxian said, not looking at Jiang Cheng – the memories of the accusations tossed around after the Xuanwu’s cave, why did you have to stand up for him, still lingered in his ear. “Gloomy and humorless as he may be. Do you think he’ll agree?”

“I’ll take one of the guards to go find out,” Jiang Cheng said. He ignored their involuntary wince at the reminder that he couldn’t go himself – weak, helpless, vulnerable, not to mention unable to fly on a sword by himself – and took his leave.

He came back with an agreement, and just like that Wei Wuxian found himself engaged.

It didn’t change anything, though the Jiang Sect partnered more and more often with the Lan sect on missions – Wei Wuxian found that he enjoyed fighting back to back with Lan Wangji, and enjoyed teasing him even more – and the war dragged on for a long time, the tides turning against Wen Ruohan only very slowly, battle by battle, inch by hard-won inch.

But in the end, they won.

They won, and stood together at Phoenix Mountain to celebrate their victory.

Wei Wuxian allowed himself to breath a sigh of relief, and shared smiles with Jiang Yanli. Jiang Cheng didn’t smile, he didn’t do that anymore, his brow always creased in anger, but he nodded and allowed Wei Wuxian to wrap an arm around both their shoulders.

The three of them together – broken, damaged, but together.

If Wei Wuxian had known that that would be the last time they’d stand together, the three of them together the way they’d promised they would be, he would have cherished it more.

But who would have thought that within three days of Phoenix Mountain, Jiang Cheng – ordinary Jiang Cheng, with no golden core, with nothing but angry determination – would accuse the Jin Sect of horrific abuses, and then, when he got no satisfactory answer, kidnap an entire set of war prisoners from the Wen sect out from right under the Jin Sect’s nose?

Everyone demanded to know where he’d taken them, and didn’t believe them when they said they didn’t know.

Lan Wangji didn’t even ask, merely leaned his shoulder against Wei Wuxian’s, and Wei Wuxian’s heart softened, thankful.

He’d be less thankful when he found out that Lan Wangji had helped Jiang Cheng do what he did and then refused to share where he’d gone, citing a solemn oath that he’d taken, but at that moment he found himself thinking – at least I have you.

They had some fights when the truth came out – Lan Wangji confessed – but it ended up being something he could forgive, especially when it turned out that Wen Qing had been the one to ask, and Wen Ning very nearly killed by the indifferent guards; it had been the right thing to do.

Jiang Cheng hadn’t even known what the Wens had done for him. He’d only known what it felt like to have nothing, to suffer endlessly, and he’d done the right thing.

Just as it was the right thing for Jiang Yanli to break ties with her brother, to cast him out of the sect that he had once been the heir of, her eyes full of tears even as she did it; anything else would have opened her sect up to reprisals it couldn’t afford, weakened as it was. Until Wei Wuxian’s marriage was finalized, they lacked the strength to defend him.

Unsurprisingly, their very next move was to set the date for the wedding.

Wei Wuxian spent the entire two months leading up to it biting his fingers until blood flowed, hoping against hope, and his faith was rewarded when Jiang Cheng, abhorred by the entire cultivation world, ignored all common sense to come to visit him the day before the ceremony.

“You make a terrible bride,” Jiang Cheng said, voice gruff, and Wei Wuxian forgot himself and tried to tackle him the way he used to; it was only Lan Wangji catching him and holding him back that reminded him that he couldn’t do that anymore, that Jiang Cheng wasn’t a cultivator, that his body had grown weak for lack of spiritual energy. “Really, look at you – who told you red was your color?”

“Red has always been my color,” Wei Wuxian shot back, grinning. “It’s not my fault it clashes with purple.”

He didn’t comment on Jiang Cheng’s clothing, the dull colors of a rogue cultivator.

“I’m glad you came,” he said instead. “I came up with something for you.”

“I’m the one who’s supposed to be bringing gifts,” Jiang Cheng grumbled. “And now you’re going to blow them all out of the water by comparison, since it’s not like we have any money…what is it?”

Wei Wuxian handed him the book he’d written.

“Cultivation of resentful energy?” Jiang Cheng read, and scowled at him. “Did Hanguang-jun tell you were I’m living?”

“He said it had the worst feng shui he’d ever seen, but nothing more than that,” Wei Wuxian said, a little annoyed but not very: he’d gotten Lan Wangji to promise that he would tell him once they were wed, since spouses shouldn’t keep secrets from each other. He’d gotten Lan Wangji to promise quite a lot of things, actually; it turned out the man actually liked him, and not just a little – who knew when that had happened? Luckily for them both, Wei Wuxian liked him back just as much. “It’s as orthodox as Lan Wangji and I could get it, given that it’s intrinsically, well, not. Every possible precaution against it turning into – uh –”

“Demonic cultivation.”

“…yes. That. Any type of cultivation that uses resentful energy damages the temperament, body and heart, but there are more orthodox ways to go about it that minimize the impact. We borrowed quite a bit from the Nie sect, prepare yourself, but anyway, you’re already so pissy, who would even notice if you got angry more often?”

The Nie clan’s cultivation gave them immense power but short lives – but not as short as a regular person who didn’t cultivate at all.

“Get lost!”

“It’s worth a try, okay?”

Jiang Cheng didn’t look convinced, so Wei Wuxian pulled out his trump card. “If it works, you could use Zidian again.”

Years later, Wei Wuxian would wonder about what he unleashed into the world that day, but right then there was nothing more than the longing in Jiang Cheng’s eyes, the first spark of purple lightning in years, and the first smile Wei Wuxian had seen on Jiang Cheng’s face since even longer.

No matter how it turned out – it was all worth it.

#mdzs #jiang cheng #wen qing #wei wuxian #jiang yanli #lan wangji #my fic #my fics #this is more of a how did it happen #but it was a lot of fun to write #I really like seeing how far I can bend canon without breaking it entirely #wangxian #Anonymous

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mcmystery · 3 years

Text

“By My Name” (Cerise & Mr.B)

Midway on their trip to Haven, two travelers took rest at a local inn on the outskirts of a passing town. By foot they took their journey as instructed by the leader of the two, a skilled Huntsman going by the last name Brunswick. He carried little for his trip, with only the clothes on his back, his weapon, and a briefcase that contain what he described; a precious set that binds fidelity.

He took the lead on their faraway journey, with a smaller female companion in tow. She introduced herself to the young Huntsman just a couple of weeks prior as Cerise Han. They met under a particular situation, which included her aiding him during a grimm ambush. It was that quick scene of events where he witnessed something special about her. Even though it conflicted with his work, he decided to let her join him, in hopes to teach her more about her own skills and how to defend herself. With Cerise joining him, she also traveled lightly with the clothes she wore, and nothing more than a backpack filled with light essentials: a pair of pajamas, extra undergarments, a journal with half the pages ruffled from use, a pen, a small wallet filled with a bit of Lien and a medium size map of Anima.

It’s a bit past evening, the sun was slowly sinking towards the horizon. The blue hues of the sky gradually faded into gentle shades of reds and pinks. A distance a way from the inn is an open field that was fenced by a row of trees that led into a dense forest. Cerise began to walk into the open field when she took notice of her traveling partner approaching her. He was returning from picking up a meal for them both and just happened to catch her at the right time.

Cerise smiled happily at his approach and waved at him as he shortened the distance to her. Carrying a paper bag filled with the delicious contents inside, he continued to walk to her with so much of a neutral expression across his face. Within a few yards between them, he finally greeted her back.

“Woman, have you done the training I’ve instructed you to do?” Asking as the last few steps came in front of her.

Cerise, a bit taken back, not by his tone or the way he greeted her, but with the way he referred to her. She thought for a second and then confronted him softly. “Why do you refer to me like that?” She asked curiously.

The taller individual looked at her and tilted his head a bit, with a soft hum in confusion.

“You tend to call me ‘Woman’ sometimes, especially when it comes to anything related to training.” She chuckled softly. Hearing it out loud, the male subtly pulled his head back at the realization, his eyes shifting to the side as if searching for an explanation for his choice of words.

His gaze shifted a bit back and forth to her, then away, “I, um…”

“We’re traveling together, so it’s okay to use my name all the time!” Cerise encourage with a gentle and friendly tone.

There was a pause between them as he thought about it for a short while. He readjusted his posture, eyes wondering away as his head tilted slightly towards that direction. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, letting them open again with his view only on her.

“It’s an old habit of mine, I apologize.” He spoke tenderly.

Cerise nodded, holding a heartwarming smile to him and before she could answer his question, he interrupted her before she could even get a syllable out.

“Miss Han, have you done your training yet?”

Cerise felt as if a weight had smack her on the top of her head as a new name was given to her. Of course, it is her name, but not the way she wished for him to refer to her as such. She smiled awkwardly and he could read her expression perfectly.

“It’s your name, isn’t it?” The dark hair male mentioned more as a statement than a question. The paper bag crinkled a bit as his tenseness of getting it wrong again.

Cerise wasn’t sure if she wanted to laugh and let it be or try to encourage him to try again. “It is… but it’s a bit formal, don’t you think?”

He stood, placing his free hand on his hip while the other was still preoccupied in holding their precious meal. His eyes shifted away again for a second and back at her, “What’s wrong with that? I want to be respectful.”

Cerise could understand a bit where he was coming from. His up bringing was way different than hers, on top of being a huntsman, and the kind of title he holds; she can understand that’s just the way he is. Yet, she just wanted her name to be used, not a name that sounded like someone else’s, but hers.

“There’s nothing really wrong with it, but it just sounds like you’re referring to my mom is all.” She mentioned with a soft laugh as she turns away slightly. “I guess I just want to have my own identity with you.”

The older male took what she said to heart. In the moments that they shared together, he slipped into past habits that he had trouble controlling at times. Letting them slip by most of the time without considering the other party. He needed to break past that, for Cerise’s sake.

“I’ve been… inconsiderate to you.” He began, “Truth be told, I struggle with my own identity at times, and I feel like I’ve projected that onto you without consideration to how that might make you feel. I…” He trailed off.

A gentle breeze passed through them; it carried the soft sounds of the grassy fields fluttering behind the two. “It shouldn’t be an excuse, with all the tasks I have to take care of, the importance of this trip and now helping you; I’ve been unfair to you. I hope you can forgive me for being insensitive.” He finished with a humble tone, giving her a true apologetic look in hopes she can spare him just this.

Cerise stunned by his speech, stumbled on her words. “H-hey, I mean, you got a super busy job, and I can tell there’s a lot on your mind. I won’t hold it against you since I can understand it’s easy for you to get distracted and slip up at times. Some habits are hard to break out of, but if you’re trying to overcome them, then I can’t get upset at you for that.”

He looked at her grateful for her understanding, relieved that he could mend his mistakes and stay on good terms with her. It felt comforting to know that she’s a gentle individual who is easy to speak with. He respected her honesty and wasn’t going to take that for granted.

Cerise caught his attention by leaning towards him and catching his glance, “I forgive you, yeah? And if you want to give me respect like you said, then use my first name!” She stated cheerfully. Holding a bright smile to him as her cheeks blushes from happiness of being able to express herself to him freely.

“Of course,” He agreed with relief, his eyes wandered towards the ground between them only to be picked up back to hers, which warmly expressed such blissful feelings radiating from that gentle admiration towards him.

He could feel himself struggling internally but managed to push out with a low tone that was rarely heard from him, “Cerise…”

Her breath was caught in her throat at the sound of him calling her. He’s said her name before on normal occasions, but at this moment it just sounded different to her ears. Maybe it’s because of the conversation they just had that holds weight to his tone. Either way, she could tell there was a difference in the way he spoke her name in this moment that made her heart skip a beat. She could feel the skin on her cheeks began to heat up and most likely display a flustered appearance. As her heart picked up in pace, her hands came up to hide whatever expression she was displaying.

“Cerise?” He said again with a tint of concern. Which flustered her more so since he took notice of her obvious reaction.

“Yeah?” She muffled behind her palms.

“It’s okay to say your first name, right?” He asked to find confirmation.

“Yeah.” Speaking again into her hands.

Her male companion dropped his shoulders in relief and smiled at her display. Seeing her reacted the way she did, warmed his heart slightly. He took a deep breath and let it out without worry. As he did, the crinkling sound of the paper bag still in his arms reminded them of their meal.

“Why don’t you take a day off for training today.” he began. “We can pick it up again tomorrow evening at a new location; let’s take the evening off to enjoy this meal and relax.”

Cerise peaked out from behind her hands and stared at him, “You sure? I thought you said it was important I stick to my training?”

He began to turn before walking away back to the inn, “I did say that, but its also important to rest.” He nodded his head towards the inn, “Let’s head back, Cerise.”

She perked up at the sound of her name now, it sounded more casual than before, like how she’s normally used to hearing it from him. She nodded with a hum of approval and took a few steps his direction as he started his walk back. Cerise caught up with him and in a playful joke referred to him, “Lead the way, Mr. Brunswick.”

#mcmysteryart #rwby oc #Cerise Han-Brunswick #Between Destiny

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hellowkatey · 3 years

Text

angstpril day 1: "you have to let me go"

the five times Obi-Wan hears these words, and the one time he says them

1-Satine // 2-Qui-Gon // 3-Satine // 4-Ahsoka // 5-Anakin // +1-Luke

Her touch is light. A few fingers lazily intertwined with his as they sit beside one another. Knees knocking together with every restless leg shake… or perhaps, a purposeful movement. Her touch is light because Qui-Gon is in the next room, and his footsteps are virtually silent to the ear when he wants them to be-- and around the two of them it's like he's constantly padding on the tips of his toes just to raise Obi-Wan's blood pressure.

Her touch is also light because it's the last moments they have together. Satine and him seem to have different philosophies when it comes to saying goodbye. She likes to distance herself. Satine would sooner put galaxies between them and whisper her final words through a commlink than have a proper farewell. She says it's because she hates when people see her cry, so it's easier this way. While Obi-Wan doesn't like seeing her cry, he can't deny that it's when tears fall from her eyes that her eyes are bluer than the kyber crystal of his lightsaber. Breathtaking. But Obi-Wan also knows that if she starts to cry there is a fair chance he will follow close behind, which is why he lets these light touches be the thing he is etching his memory with.

If he had the choice, Satine would be wrapped in his arms, her body as close to him as they can possibly get. For as long as they can manage. He would memorize the way her hair smells, the places where their bodies fit perfectly together, and the map of her veins he likes to trace with his fingers. Given the chance, he would kiss her, kiss her the way he wished their first kiss had gone, and the way he hopes she remembers when they are worlds apart.

Her light touch twitches from its spot. Fingers separate, and he's left with nothing. Were they in the presence of others, he might accept this as their final touch, but the room is empty and Obi-Wan isn't satisfied with this goodbye. He reaches out, grabbing her hand as she stands, knowing full well she has every intention of walking out of here and not looking back.

"Please," he says. "What if I leave the--"

"You have to let me go," she says. Satine won't let him finish that sentence. Just like he would never let her finish her own version. He holds her hand for a second longer and then decides to indulge one last time.

A kiss on the back of her hand. The brush of his lips as light as her touch on his fingers, and then he lets her go.

His skin is cold. How can it be so icy already? Only seconds after he fell-- or so it feels-- and Qui-Gon's skin is clammy and cold. Obi-Wan is panicking. He has been trained not to panic in every situation imaginable but somehow Qui-Gon failed to instruct him what to do if he finds himself holding his dying master in his arms.

"It's… It's too late," Qui-Gon says in a tone that is much too weak for Obi-Wan to perceive as being real. Tears spring up in his eyes and drop onto Qui-Gon's chest in unceremonious splatters. It feels so un-Jedi-like to cry, but he has lost the will to care about that.

"No," the padawan protests. He shakes his head like a youngling,

"Obi-Wan," his master says. While he sees his lips moving, he is suddenly aware of Qui-Gon's voice within his head, speaking directly into their Force bond. A message only for him to hear.

"You have to let me go."

He looks at him with horror. "The medics… they will be here momentarily just hold--"

"You have to let me go, padawan. My time is over."

Even Obi-Wan feels it now. The Force wrapping around his master like a warm blanket. His skin is still cold with Obi-Wan runs his fingers along Qui-Gon's cheek, but his spirit is ablaze.

"Yes, Master."

Obi-Wan promises many things in those final moments, but the hardest comes when Qui-Gon leans back into his leg, his weight releasing and his last breath coming out like a soft gasp of relief.

While every other goodbye Satine has ever given has been curt and distant, leaving Obi-Wan wishing there were more, nothing prepared him for the goodbye he thought he wanted.

She lays in his lap. His arms wrapped around her, her body pressed into his chest as close as she can possibly get. Satine looks exactly as his memory stored. Golden hair he has to brush out of her smooth face, cheeks red and cheekbones high. Her hand is slipped into his and she's squeezing it hard-- were her veins not slowly releasing their content of blood he might be able to trace them with his finger like he used to when they'd lazily lay together watching the clouds overhead.

Satine's blue eyes are as vibrant as the kyber crystal that called to him as she tells him that she loves him. That she always has.

And when her hand cradles his face, a touch as light as all the rest, he is thrust back into reality. Somehow the faint touches and distant goodbyes always felt temporary. He would always see her again whether in a few months or years or decades. But somehow she is right here and already gone-- the way Satine always liked to say goodbye, especially when Obi-Wan was nowhere near ready to say it himself.

You have to let me go, she mouths to him as her eyes flutter closed. Because somehow she knows that making those her final words aloud to him would crush him in every way. When her hand falls limp at her side, he catches it.

A kiss on the back of her hand. The brush of his lips as light as her touch used to be, and though he feels like his entire world is crumbling around him, he lets her go.

He catches Ahsoka outside the Temple. A few tears fall from her eyes, but even as she allows him to walk next to her, she says nothing. Her shields are up. Tight. And when he looks at her he can see the dark circles under her eyes and the slouch of her shoulders. She's exhausted. Physically and mentally.

"Ahsoka," Obi-Wan stops to say when they turn the corner and he is confident they are alone. She stops but doesn't look him in the eye. "I am so sorry."

"Did you…"

"No," he says. He knows what she's going to ask, and it breaks his heart she would ever think he would. "Not for a second. I tried--"

"But it wasn't enough, I guess."

She finally looks at him. While anger, frustration, or even sadness would be expected of her, Obi-Wan is unsettled to see none of that. Rather, he sees resignation. Content. The determination that he knows all too well. His chest swells with guilt. He should have done more.

"The council will let you return," Obi-Wan says, the hope in his voice betraying him. "Even if you've already said no if you change your mind they will-- They must. They--"

"Abandoned me. The council abandoned me. Didn't believe in me. Are they even sorry?"

"The council… isn't always right."

"Master Kenobi, you're talking as though you are separate from the council."

A deep cut. He nods through the bitterness that he deserves.

"Ahsoka, whether you decide to return or not I just hope you know I tried. And I am sorry I didn't push even harder."

She nods. It isn't forgiveness but forgiveness is not what he is looking for. Just for her to listen.

"I understand. And I appreciate you coming after me. But you have to let me go."

So Obi-Wan stops. Immediately, and she almost looks shocked when he does, but she keeps on walking through the stutter-step of surprise. Her eyes linger on him for a moment long, and then her mouth that has been so set on remaining neutral flickers into a sad frown. Obi-Wan doesn't have to see her sadness for long, for his grand-padawan is as strong in will as she is in battle and she looks forward to her path unknown. Ahsoka doesn’t look back, and he doesn't expect her to.

He didn't listen to her once, and he won't make that mistake again.

Ten years since they battled on Mustafar, and still, standing in front of the man that was once his padawan, brother, and friend, has not gotten easier. He is more machine than man now. A glistening sculpture with a mangled interior he knows too well. The strangest part of it all is feeling his signature in the Force. Though he looks like Vader and sounds like an asthmatic bantha, and nothing about him is remotely reminiscent of Anakin Skywalker, the Force still registers his presence as a person Obi-Wan knows well.

"I always wonder if you are still in there, my friend," Obi-Wan says. His saber is already drawn, ready for a redo of the battle he thinks about on a daily basis. With any hope, he can right the wrongs he made a decade ago.

"You have to let Anakin Skywalker go," the Sith says, the annoyance in his voice palpable even through the respirator. "He died on Mustafar, where you killed him."

"It's funny, I remember that going differently. I remember Vader being the one who silenced my brother and took advantage of his power."

"Then this shall be a fight for who writes history."

Vader is the first to lunge, but Obi-Wan is ready. He never forgot the sound their lightsabers made clashing together as enemies ten years ago, and today it is all the same.

The Force is singing at a time when Obi-Wan would least expect the Force to have any sort of positive opinion. How this situation can yield any good is far beyond the old man, but he has learned over the years there is no point in arguing with the will of the Force.

Vader is relentless. Since their last battle he has only grown stronger, and once he learns of Luke-- who is conveniently also present in this space station of destruction-- his lust for power will swell with the idea of having his son at his side. Luke is strong, kind, and well-balanced for as untrained as he is. Obi-Wan senses greatness from the boy, but all that will fail if he allows Vader to win.

So he seeks him out. Battles him yet again in a test of wits and swordsmanship. Nineteen years on Tatooine has made Obi-Wan rusty in some senses, but there is one thing he can count on.

Whether Vader admits it or not, Anakin is in there. He can see it in the way he duels, the way the wheels turn in his head and he approaches battles. Anakin was always creative and quick, using his environment as well as his lightsaber to attack from all sides. Vader is the same fighter behind that sword. While he may not be as limber in his cyborg suit, there is a part of him that is still Anakin. If that is the case, then the Force is singing because the time has finally come.

Are you sure? He asks the Force. Though it doesn't reply in Galactic Basic, as would be most convenient, it does wrap around him like a warm blanket. Obi-Wan can feel the Force that flows within him go ablaze, and the feeling is a familiar one.

Obi-Wan looks through the open blast doors as Luke runs in, his mouth open in awe and eyes filled with worry. He looks at Vader, too enthralled in the fight to pay any attention to the importance of the person just a handful of meters away. And the old Jedi Master smiles.

Vader staggers. Obi-Wan can practically see Anakin behind the mask doing a double-take. Wondering what in the world he could be thinking to be losing their duel and grinning at him.

Obi-Wan raises his lightsaber. I'll see you soon, Master, he says into the Force, and as Vader's swings through the air, he hears Luke cry out in protest, and then nothing at all.

"No!" Luke yells, immediately regretting his outburst when five stormtroopers take notice of their position and start firing. He can see Ben's cloak in a heap on the ground in front of the murderous monster that just cut through him, and out of desperation to save Old Ben, he starts firing back at the troopers.

Han and Leia are yelling at him to get on the Millennium Falcon, but he has already downed one trooper, and he can get the rest! He can get the rest and defeat Vader and--

"Luke," a voice says. His head turns by instinct, but it isn't a voice speaking to him aloud, nor is it Han or Leia's voice. "You have to let me go."

"Ben? Ben are you--"

"Go, Luke. All will be revealed in time."

Luke stands for a moment in a daze until Han screaming at him to blast the door pulls him out of the trance. He does as he's told, and as Vader marches toward him the blast doors slam shut in his face, separating him from the monster that killed Ben.

"Run, Luke, run." Ben's voice rings in his head. He doesn't understand it, but he listens.

#angstpril2021 #dayone #you have to let me go #i like how i was like #im not gonna do angstpril #and then i was like #well i could try and work some of the prompts into other stuff to help with inspiration #and then at 10pm tonight im like #wait i have idea for day 1 #and now it's midnight and I have this #fic #i am a sucker for these challenges and it shows #obi-wan kenobi #satine kryze #qui-gon jinn #anakin skywalker #darth vader #ahsoka tano #luke skywalker

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seaoflittlefires · 3 years

Text

Still deserve a bit of fun

Summary: After the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry reconnects with Mary Macdonald who tells him about his parents and their group of friends in the '70s. When he hears about their camping trip to Cornwall, he decides to take his friends there, but while Harry is set on having fun and forgetting all about the war, not everyone finds it easy.

This is lots of dialogue, mostly about the golden and silver trio trying to process what happened to them and dealing with the angst of having lost their teenage years to war. It's heavily inspired by MsKingBean89's All the Young dudes; the catalyst for the plot is an exchange between Harry and Mary Macdonald as she is portrayed in the fic.

While this story can be understood without having read ATYD, there are a bunch of easter eggs and parallels that will be better appreciated with it in mind.

Word count: 5.4k

Read on AO3

Prologue

It was the strangest letter Harry had ever received. And of course, he’d had his fair share of mysterious letters. But this one was particularly mind-boggling because the very idea of Mary seemed like an impossibility. A friend of his parents’, a member of their class at Hogwarts, still alive, completely untouched by the war or by the magical world itself.

At first Harry expected to be a bit resentful: Why had this woman not joined them in the fight against Voldemort when she knew first-hand what he was capable of? And also, why hadn’t she ever reached out if she had truly been so close to James and Lily, if she knew so much? Harry felt he could have used a letter like this much sooner. But there was something about Mary’s story that made him instinctively understand where she was coming from: Her friends had died one by one at the hands of Voldemort. She’d been in danger during the wars for being a muggleborn. And even in times of peace, she had felt like a bit of an outsider in a wizarding community that didn’t care to explain much to people whose families weren’t magic, that simple thrust these kids into a new, dangerous world and hoped for the best. And of course, it was a community that, despite its hatred of Voldemort, had nonchalantly allowed the ideology of blood purity to remain a part of daily life even within Hogwarts and often continued to spread it. Harry could most certainly relate to her resentment. And so he’d decided to forgive Mary for everything she hadn’t been able to do, and to enjoy what seemed like an invaluable second chance, especially after the deaths of Sirius and Remus: Here was someone who’d been close to his parents and mentors when they had all been kids. Someone who’d known them long before Harry was even a possibility. He had a million questions, and Mary answered them all.

She had initially reached out a few weeks after the battle of Hogwarts to offer her condolences for Remus, her only remaining friend from the wizarding world. She’d been devastated to hear about his death, but also shocked to know about the role that Harry had played in the war. She remembered him from when he was a baby and she wanted to pass along a few photos she still had from those days. Harry had been elated to know her and to get this account of the first few months of his life.

But as they continued writing to each other, always by muggle post, other things that Mary knew proved to be even more invaluable. She wrote of his parents long before they were his parents, long before they were even together. She wrote about meeting Lily in first year, helping each other navigate the newness of their abilities and their surroundings. She wrote of hours spent talking to her and Marlene, laughing together, helping each other through homework and bullies and unrequited love. She wrote about Remus, who’d first gotten close to them, about his generosity and his talent for teaching, even when he was still a student himself. She wrote about the rivalry with the boys and how it had later morphed into friendship. About the Great Snogging Race, about quidditch, about James and his romantic gestures, about Sirius and his music. She wrote about legendary parties and the pranks, so many pranks. The time they’d made it impossible for purebloods to use slurs by swapping the words for nonsense. The time they’d set off fireworks in the grounds for Remus’s birthday. The time they’d formed an inter-house cooperative to teleport the entire Slytherin common room into the lake. Harry devoured each of her letters with joy.

There was one anecdote that stood out to him, probably because Mary spoke of it with such love and nostalgia: The summer before their seventh year, right before the first war had gotten really ugly, they had all taken a trip to Cornwall. They’d done camping the old-fashioned muggle way and gone to the beach and been silly teenagers. It had been during that trip that Harry’s parents had finally gotten together. He could picture them all laughing by the shore or sitting around a fire. He could see Sirius’s cheeky grin and Remus’s eyes sparkling mischievously and his parents, the way they were in the pictures Mary sent. Happy. Carefree. Young.

When he proposed the idea to Ginny, she was thrilled. Hermione took come convincing but Ron helped her come around and Neville proved easy once he knew that Luna was going. They set off at the end of July, apparating into the campsite with muggle tents and equipment. The weather was perfect and they quickly found a spot within the site. As they unpacked, Harry looked around him and sighed. This was exactly like he had pictured it. He was ready to begin again.

Chapter 1

They’d brought two tents, one for the boys and one for the girls, which they began to assemble at their spot in the camping site. At first they tried the muggle way but Neville almost poked someone’s eye out with a pole and Luna got trapped inside one of the tents while trying to raise it. After about fifteen minutes of this, Ron and Hermione took over and, after quickly verifying that nobody was looking, everyone also began to use spells to help get it all done.

Luna grabbed her wand, but instead of helping Ginny assemble the poles, she began to murmur an enchantment that none of them found familiar.

“What are you doing?” Asked Ron, curious but well-meaning. After everything, he’d learned to trust Luna’s strange but wise ways.

“Chizpurfle defense charm. They’re attracted to magical objects and they chew at them. Especially when there isn’t lots of magical energy around, they can be vicious. We must be a beacon for them right now…”

“Oh yes, I’ve read about those,” Hermione replied as soon as she was finished lifting the girls’ tent with a flick of her wand.

“Sorry I can’t be of any help,” said Neville. “You both are so good at this and I’m so clumsy…”

“Don’t worry mate, this is actually very difficult,” replied Ron as he hammered in the pegs.

“It really is. Seriously, it isn’t your fault, we just got a doctorate in tent-building last year.”

“I wish so badly I could have gone with you guys. I could have helped. Besides, I bet you could have used the company,” said Ginny, looking up towards Hermione from the poles she was assembling.

“You guys barely talk about that time,” added Neville. “I mean, you explained what you discovered, and all the strategic stuff, but I bet it must have been quite horrible, being on your own with so much danger…”

“Well, it did get a bit lonely,” Hermione said after a pause. It was true, they’d barely talked about that time, and it had been taxing for all three of them. But so much had happened since, so much that seemed bigger and scarier and just worse, that it had barely felt worth it. “We missed our families a lot, especially…” Ron walked toward Hermione and put his hand gently on her shoulder. Hermione had spent a long time explaining everything to her parents after their memory spells had been reversed, but they still weren’t the same and she felt guilty, despite knowing it had been the right choice. “It felt awful, being away from you all. We didn’t know whether we’d ever see you again, and it felt… it was just hard to put on a brave face and be logical all the bloody time when sometimes you just wanted to curl into someone’s arms and be held.”

“Well at least that’s over now,” chimed in Harry, quickly, almost too quickly. “No one has to be brave anymore.” He seemed to be lost in thought for a second. “Except for you, Weasley,” he exclaimed then, grabbing a broom from the already finished boys’ tent. “Let’s find a spot with no muggles at the beach so I can kick your arse in a race!”

“Alright, we’ll see about that,” said Ron, grabbing his own broom and getting ready to follow. He and Hermione shared a look and he shrugged. That hadn’t seemed much like Harry, but the black-haired boy was already halfway to the beach and, after all, Ron was never one to turn down a challenge. “Are you guys coming?” Ginny and Neville nodded.

“I’ll stay behind for a bit to finish up these charms,” said Luna, who was busy walking in circles around the girls’ tent while waving her wand.

“Are you… are you sure that’s necessary?” Asked Ginny.

“You will be thankful when Billywigs aren’t stinging you in your sleep. They can cause grown humans to levitate, did you know?”

“Alright, I suppose it can’t hurt,” said Hermione, who had just emerged from her tent carrying a book.

“Work?” Ron rolled her eyes at her.

“Beach read. ”

“Let’s go then.”

***

They were lying in the sand under the warm sun. All six of them were in their bathing suits but only Luna had been courageous enough to brave the freezing water yet. She was performing a drying spell on her dripping hair when Ron spoke:

“I could lie here all day. Weather’s perfect.”

“Yeah, it’s so peaceful. Quiet too, I thought we’d have to be more careful because of the muggles.” Ginny spoke as she turned to lie on her stomach.

“We picked a great spot,” Harry agreed. “Mary said there’s a castle ruin a few miles from here, we could go at some point.”

He got a mostly enthusiastic response but a groan from Ron: “You can go and come back to pick me up in a week, I’ll still be lying here.”

“No you won’t. You agreed to go check on mum in like…” Ginny sat up and looked at her watch. “Twenty minutes.”

“Is anything the matter?” Asked Luna.

“Nah, we just haven’t left home much since… Since Fred,” explained Ron. “We promised we’d keep in touch. And someone got me to agree to do it the first time.”

“Because someone insisted I carry all the camping equipment.” Ginny’s rebuttal was quick and it got a smile from everyone but Harry whose eyes were fixed on the horizon. He didn’t know how but the war kept slipping into every conversation. It bothered him. No matter how far he went, he never seemed to be able to escape the smothering presence of all he’d lost.

“We really did need a holiday, eh?” He addressed Ron in an effort to steer the conversation away, back towards his best friend’s love of relaxation.

“Yeah we did. I still have no clue what I’m supposed to do now, like… Work? I never knew what I wanted to be when I grew up and now I guess… I am grown up. And I still don’t know what I am.”

“Well, you don’t have to be just one thing. No one ever is! You can just try out many fields of work and see which one suits you,” replied Hermione. “I plan to get a few internships in the fall in order to do that. Mostly at different ministry departments, maybe International Magical Cooperation, or the Committee on Experimental Charms…”

“Yeah well, that’s all very well and good when you’ve got loads of paths to pick from,” said Ron, “but I don’t even know where to start.”

This was good, Harry thought. Thinking of the future. Thinking of work. These were problems that everyone dealt with at this age, right? Nothing to do with the war or death. Besides, the idea that there could be a future in itself was more than they’d had for so long. Harry had no clue what he wanted to do with his, but he knew better than to view that choice as a problem.

“I don’t really know if I’m ready to work yet…” Neville said suddenly. He sat up over his towel.

“Well, that’s perfectly understandable too, you could continue your studies if you want. It might actually do us all good, after all, we pretty much skipped our N.E.W.T.S.” Hermione’s face was almost wistful as she mentioned exams.

“Well, sure, but… I don’t mean that. I mean… Every so often I get filled with so much rage. Ever since May it all just… feels so pointless. Even here, right now, with you guys, you’re all talking about feeling so relaxed and I… I haven’t been able to truly be anywhere fully in a long time. Part of me is always reliving it. And I don’t know if it’s a good idea for me to just… jump back in.” Everyone nodded. They knew it was true, and they felt it as well.

“I might travel for a while after my seventh year,” Luna mused. “It’s always been my dream to see a Runespoor in person…”

“Gory,” replied Ron with a smirk. “But I applaud your bravery. And as for you Neville, take all the time you need, mate. We’re all knackered. It’s a wonder we can go about our days at all…”

“Hey, did you know Sirius and Remus were a couple?” Harry exclaimed suddenly. That got everyone’s attention. For a few seconds, nobody spoke.

“Seriously?! Oh my, that makes so much sense!” Hermione was ecstatic, as she usually was when she learned something that helped her crack a puzzle.

“Okay, I am now second-guessing my entire existence,” said Ron. His face was a study in confusion.

“Professor Lupin? Why did I need to know that?” Neville looked utterly flustered.

“They do make one hell of a great-looking couple,” said Ginny with a smirk, and to her delight, Luna nodded at her. But her expression suddenly changed and a few seconds later she added: “did… made… Sorry.”

“How did you even find out about this?” Hermione turned her attention back to Harry. She gasped. “Did Mary tell you?”

“Well… Not exactly. She didn’t say it outright; I suppose she didn’t think it was her story to tell but… The way she talks about them in her letters… She refers to them as a unit. Same way she talks about my parents. I guess it just… made me re-examine some stuff.”

“Of course it did,” said Neville. “When you have limited memories of someone, every new fact you learn about them makes you understand everything in a whole new light. I know how that…”

“Well, yeah, but this isn’t really about that.” Harry’s expression had suddenly turned serious. He didn’t know what had compelled him to share this suspicion with his friends so suddenly, or to state it as if it was fact. He’d been thinking about it a lot since reading Mary’s letters but he’d thought of asking her before telling other people. It felt a bit like a betrayal. What was wrong with him? He was distracted by Ron who was looking at Luna quizzically.

“Why aren’t you more surprised?” He asked her. “I don’t mean to be a prude or anything but… This is huge”

“Oh, I already kind of figured they were together,” said Luna in that singsong, nonchalant way of hers. Five pair of eyes were suddenly upon her.

“How did you know? They never said anything, they never, like, kissed in public! Plus, you barely even saw them together before Sirius…” Harry was worried. Had this been an obvious thing the entire time? Had he never seen these two people properly despite considering them family?

“Love is spoken in many ways. Different people express it differently. Just because someone isn’t speaking your love language doesn’t mean they aren’t saying it.”

“That’s very wise, Luna,” said Hermione smiling.

“What does it even mean?” Asked Ron.

“I saw the way they looked at each other. My parents used to do that. They weren’t ones for words but love was in their every touch and stare. And when they moved they seemed like pieces of a single body. That’s how Sirius and Remus were that night at the ministry, and I didn’t know them before then so I just assumed it was a thing the rest of you knew. When Sirius passed through the veil, I saw Remus’s face change. He went with him.”

“I’m going in the sea, who’s coming?” Harry was suddenly up, his body coursing with energy. He practically ran into the water without waiting for an answer.

Chapter 2

Harry had lit the fire using magic, but he was still building up the flame the muggle way. They’d split up in order to get dinner and take turns showering at the camp facilities. They were nowhere near as nice as the bathrooms at Hogwarts but a few charms had helped make them warmer. Now, they sat roasting marshmallows in the fire as they listened to music on Hermione’s Discman. She’d charmed her CDs so they could each hold dozens of albums and so that they could play songs in multiple random orders She could also use her wand to control the volume from afar. The only problem was, Hermione hated current music. Even after all these years, she was still a bit of a snob when it came to art, preferring obscure bands from ten or twenty years before. As a result, they’d been listening to a lot of Bowie since they’d arrived.

“…And then, my grandma told me I wasn’t allowed any pets until I was 18, except for something truly harmless. And even Trevor I ended up losing at the lake eventually.” Neville was telling the story of how he’d ended up with a toad, a rather unusual pet even for a Hogwarts student.

“Yeah, well, at least your harmless pet did not turn out to be an escaped murderer!” Said Ron, who had still never quite gotten over the shock of Scabbers’s true identity. As usual, he got a laugh from everyone. However, Harry couldn’t help but notice that even these conversations were always restrained. He could not remember the last time he’d laughed to tears, laughed truly, even at one of Ron’s comments. Still, his friend had the ability to cheer people up, even in the darkest of times.

“Hey, you could ask George if he needs help at the shop, you know?” He said to him. “I bet you could be really good at that. Coming up with artifacts, selling to customers especially…”

“Yeah, mate, maybe I’ll try that…” Ron was deep in thought for a few seconds. “George hasn’t really been the same since he lost Fred. Perhaps he could use that.” And just like that, Harry thought, he’d burst the bubble. Again.

“I’m having the best time,” said Hermione, who’d been listening attentively to one of Luna’s stories. “I think we all really needed this, thanks for forcing me to come.”

“Anytime,” Ginny winked at her.

“Always a pleasure to bicker with you about anything,” said Ron.

“Seriously though, I really love you lot. I don’t know that I tell you that enough.” Hermione put one arm around Harry and another around Ginny, both sitting beside her.

“Yeah, me too,” added the redhead. “I’m so grateful we’re all still together. You’ve made everything seem… I don’t know, worth it.”

Harry was about to say something about the marshmallows definitely being worth it when he saw that Luna’s eyes were watery.

“What’s wrong?” Asked Neville.

“I just… I love you guys so much,” Luna said as tears fell down her cheek. “When I was held at Malfoy Manor last year and my father… He was so selfish. I thought that you would never forgive me. And I’d never had any real friends before I met you all and I was already resigned to losing you… I was grateful that at least I’d known what it felt like, you know? To be a part of something truly special…” Hermione leaned over Ginny and squeezed her hand. “And yet you guys did forgive me,” Luna continued, “and you kept me around after the battle was over; you made me feel like I hadn’t just been useful, like I was…” She trailed off as Ginny enveloped her in a hug.

“Luna, you’re always going to have us at your side,” Neville reassured her. “Everything that happened… It forged a bond you cannot break. It’ll always keep us together.”

“I just wish it didn’t seem like the only thing keeping us together…” Harry hadn’t meant to say it out loud, but the moment he did, he felt strangely lighter. However, this relief didn’t last long.

“What did you just say?” Ginny asked, suddenly looking away from Luna and towards her boyfriend with a stern expression.

“I said,” Harry raised his voice a bit, emboldened, “that it would be really bloody great if you all could stop talking about the war for a minute. The whole point of this trip was to have fun and be normal, just like people were before the war! Can’t we have one single conversation that isn’t about how awful it all is?!”

“No, we can’t, you nitwit!” Ginny yelled. “You’ve been acting like a prat and ignoring people’s feelings all day, but in case you haven’t noticed, things have been awful! I lost a brother! And I miss him so much, I…” Ginny’s voice broke and she stopped talking.

“I know you do,” said Harry regretfully. “I just thought if we could all leave we’d…”

“Running won’t fix things. It never does. Sometimes you just have to keep living right next to the bad.” And with that, Ginny stood up. “Come on, Luna, let’s get you a glass of water,” she said to her friend, who was still crying softly.

“I’ll… uuuh… I’ll go with you!” Neville practically leapt out of his seat and the three of them began to walk quickly towards the camp facilities.

Harry sighed. Just like that, it was him, Ron and Hermione left, just like it had been a year ago. Actually, it had been less than a full year, but it still felt like a lifetime. More than Harry had ever wanted to spend in the presence of so much sorrow.

“So I screwed that up,” he said as Ron moved over to sit next to him and Hermione.

“You kind of did, not going to lie…” Said Ron. “But I get where you’re coming from. Honestly, I needed a break from my house too. It’s why I wanted to come so bad.”

Harry nodded. He’d never realized, but it must have been taking a toll on Ron to keep being so cheerful and sarcastic while he himself was dealing with so much. Harry supposed it was his way of deflecting things. At least Ron’s way made people feel better, he thought, as opposed to his.

“Look,” said Hermione, putting an arm around him. “Healing takes time. You can’t expect people to act normally after what happened and you shouldn’t expect that of yourself either. It’s okay if it’s all we can talk about for a bit. Merlin knows it’s enough to fill plenty of history books, it needs processing.”

“I’ve just lost so much time to… processing,” Harry said. “I’m turning eighteen soon, you guys already have. And yet I can count on one hand the adventures we’ve had together that didn’t somehow involve solving some mystery or fighting some evil threat. And…” He sighed. He couldn’t stop thinking about Mary’s letters, all the anecdotes she’d shared about his parents and their friends. “I guess I just want a bit of normal life, you know? And even now that everything’s supposed to be over, even though this whole thing was meant to give us all a chance to live happily… I’m not sure we’ll ever get there.”

“I know we will, mate,” said Ron. “I mean, my parents did, after the first war. Mum lost both her brothers and she still had enough faith to raise all of us. She knew things could be better. They all did.”

“Mary didn’t,” replied Harry. He hadn’t known he was thinking about it until he said it. But it was true. In the end, perhaps, she had made the right choice. Going away. Forgetting that it all even existed. Getting married and having a kid and living a normal, happy, uneventful life.

“But we proved her wrong, didn’t we?” Hermione interjected. “I mean, she wrote to you because she was impressed. Because she was proud and she believed in what you did. And I promise you it will have been worth it. You’ll see.”

Harry nodded. He knew that everything they’d done had been important. He’d seen how much of a difference it had made to thousands of people. He just hadn’t ever been so conscious of what it had cost him before: “Do you think we’ll ever get to just be regular teenagers?” He asked Hermione.

She was silent for a few moments, clearly wanting to give Harry an answer that she truly believed in, instead of some bland reassurance. After a while, she spoke: “Honestly? I have no idea. We still are a little bit broken…”

“Yeah, some of us especially,” chimed in Ron, glancing sideways at Hermione. She elbowed him and he shrugged, as if to say “I’ve earned that”. Hermione laughed. “You see?” She looked at Harry. “There you go. We’ve still got a long way to go until we reach normal. But in the meantime, we still deserve a bit of fun”.

Harry didn’t know how, but Hermione’s words were always just right, like they were the echo of something he’d always known. He hugged both of his friends.

“I’ll apologize to the others in a bit. I think I’d better take a walk and gather my thoughts first,” he told them, as he headed towards the beach.

Chapter 3

The sound of the waves was deafening as Ginny walked out onto the beach. She spotted Harry but didn’t quicken her pace. Instead, she watched him think for a few moments longer. She knew why he’d picked this place to cool off. The noise. It would be a long time before Harry could stand the quiet again.

“Sorry I snapped,” she said when she finally reached him, resting her chin on his shoulder.

“Back at you,” he replied. They stood like this for a few moments. Ginny waited. She felt the words building up inside him. Of course, she was right. Eventually Harry spoke: “I just didn’t know I felt like that. Not until Mary.”

“You speak a lot about her letters,” Ginny nodded. “You clearly needed them.”

“I did. You see, everybody talks so much about how my parents died. I know all about how brave they were fighting against Voldemort, and how much they had to sacrifice during the last few months of their lives… I know everything about how they died. And I’m grateful for it; it’s obviously better than knowing nothing… But until recently I barely knew anything about how they lived. What kind of students they’d been at Hogwarts, what kind of friends. What subjects they’d liked or been good at, what foods they loved the most at the Great Hall. What they fought about, how they became friends with all these people, what all of the Marauders’ pranks were like… Mary made me realize that. And once I did, it was impossible not to notice the same thing happening to us. We’ve lost so much time already. So much of our lives has been about this bloody war, and I don’t want it to be the only story we can tell about our teenage years. Already it feels like I’ll never be able to outlive it publicly and so with my friends I just want… I don’t know. I guess if this is what we are remembered by, if this is how we remember ourselves and our loved ones, just for what we lost, it’s a kind of victory for him.”

Ginny sighed. “I know. And I agree with you. We deserve time to be teenagers. We deserve to talk about silly things and have silly competitions and listen to happy music that isn’t Hermione’s melancholy crap,” she took Harry’s hand between hers, “and we deserve time to figure out what this is without any pressure. But that’s the thing: We can do that. Your parents didn’t have that luxury. They had to cram as much life as they could into very little time and figure out how to be kids and teenagers and grownups all at once, am I right?”

“Yeah,” said Harry. “I keep wondering how on earth they were ready to be married at our age.”

“See, that’s the thing, they probably weren’t. But they had to. We don’t. We’ve earned our right to take things slowly, we have all the time in the world. But we cannot skip the grieving part. As much as we all want to forget that all of this ever happened because it hurts like hell to know it did, trust, me, the only way out is through. Otherwise you end up living with a lot of ghosts…”

“You’re right.” Harry put his arms around her. He knew exactly what Ginny meant. And he knew he didn’t want that. Because despite everything, possibly even because of it, he felt like the future held good things in store for them. “I’m really sorry, Ginny,” he whispered. “For everything you’ve lost.”

“Me too. And I don’t think you’re told that nearly enough.”

***

After a while they began to walk hand in hand back towards the camping site.

As they got closer, they realized the fire was still lit, and there was a lone figure sitting beside it. They thought it might be Luna, still up performing more charms of protection against various magical creatures, but when they arrived they saw it was actually Neville. He was all but falling asleep while sitting down, shaking himself awake every few seconds and then immediately beginning to close his eyes again. Hermione’s Discman was still on, playing another Bowie song, but Hermione herself was nowhere to be seen. Very unlike her, Harry thought, to forget something out in the open. He turned towards his half-awake friend.

“Hiya Neville, what’s up?” He nudged him awake. “Really sorry about before, by the way, I was a proper arse. If you ever need to talk…”

“Okay, sure, I’m just really tired right now…” Neville said, his eyes already beginning to close again, his head falling.

“Why won’t you go to bed then?” asked Harry, pointing to the tent.

“Well, I want to, and Luna’s already gone in her tent but I… The boy’s tent is… I can’t go because you see…” Neville smirked and pointed awkwardly in its general direction. The tent was still and quiet. Too quiet. It only took Harry a few seconds to realize that numerous silencing charms had been placed upon it.

“Wait, is Hermione in there with Ron?!” Asked Ginny, eyeing Neville conspiratorially.

“Uuuuh yeah they are… They’re in there doing… I can’t get in because they’re both in there being…” Neville’s face looked Gryffindor red and he could not stop fidgeting with his hands. “They’re doing…”

“They’re having hot sex, that’s what you mean to say” Ginny cut him off with a deadpan expression. Harry snorted. And just like that, something in him broke. He began to laugh. He laughed so hard he almost felt tearful and Ginny joined him. Neville made a noise somewhere between a gag and a cry for mercy as they both fell down to the floor in hysterics and within a few seconds he had started giggling nervously as well.

They stayed that way until Hermione came out of the tent in tiptoes and almost had a fit upon seeing them all outside. They just stayed and kept laughing. Just a group of teenagers with so much love for each other, at once idiotic and wise beyond their years, laughing about sex and making fun of each other at a time when it seemed impossible that anything could be fun. And although Harry didn’t know this (because, despite her usual style, Mary had taken care not to be that explicit in her letters), this was exactly what it had been like twenty years before.

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itachi-uchiha-deserved-better · 3 years

Text

There were seven of them gathered in the tent that was serving as the temporary council chamber while the leaf village was being rebuilt. Kakashi sat at the head of the circular table, looking uncomfortable in the position of authority that had been thrust upon him in Tsunade’s absence. Next to Kakashi on his left was Shikaku Nara, with Shikamaru seated next to his father. On Kakashi’s right side sat Gai, Yamato, Naruto and then finally there was Sakura, sitting opposite Kakashi, wondering when in the hell she had become important enough to warrant an explicit invitation to a council meeting.

The elders, Sakura noted, were not in attendance. Kakashi had placed both of them under guard since Danzo’s treachery at the five Kage summit came to light. It didn’t really come as much of a surprise to Sakura that the Jonin of the village were hesitant to trust them with matters of importance.

Kakashi fiddled with his pen, as he seemed to search for the best way to approach whatever it was that was important enough for him to call a council meeting in the first place. He kept shooting Yamato glances, which Yamato always answered with a quirked eyebrow or a shake of the head, like there was a silent discussion going on between them. Sakura watched the exchange with fascination as she doodled on the note pad in front of her.

“Fine.” Kakashi growled, ending whatever argument he and Yamato were apparently having, “I guess we ought to just get on with it.” He took a breath, put the pen down very carefully, so that it was sitting perfectly straight in front of him. He swept his gaze around the room, locking eyes with each person who sat at the table in turn.

“You know I’m not the type to do things as officially as they should be done. Were it not for the delicate nature of this matter, I’d have left it for Tsunade to deal with when she recovers. Unfortunately, this is a matter that won’t wait until our Hokage is back on her feet.”

The air in the room seemed to grow still and heavy with tension. Everyone seemed to pick up on the carefully chosen words Kakashi used. Our Hokage. Not him. He had no desire to lead them. When Tsunade wakes up. Because none of them wanted to consider the other outcome.

“As you know, Yamato and I were present for the majority of the 5 Kage summit. I believe everyone here has read our reports regarding the proceedings of the summit and Danzo’s attempt at treason. That is not what we are here to discuss. This meeting is in regards to what happened before our arrival at the summit location. About information intentionally withheld from the official reports.”

Sakura observed the room. A large part of her medical training had focused on sharpening her observational skills. Teaching her to pick up on subtle changes around her, so that she can make decisions with the most information possible. So her keen gaze immediately picks up on the way that Shikaku straightened up in his chair as Kakashi admits to withholding information from the official documentation of their mission. She notes how Shikamaru’s gaze snaps to Naruto’s face, then to hers, trying to read the situation the same way that she was. She can almost visualize tangible waves of tension rolling off of Yamato and the worried look that Gai is giving her Sensei. It seemed that he had at least some inkling of what was going on.

“Honestly, I wasn’t sure that this information should be shared with anyone. The source is questionable, but Yamato and I agree that given the potential ramifications for the village if the information we’ve been given is accurate, that at least the people in this room need to be aware of it.”

More glances shot around the table. Naruto at Sakura. Sakura at Yamato. Yamato and Gai at Kakashi. Shikaku and Shikamaru at all of them. The silence in the room swelled until Shikaku quietly prompted Kakashi, “please continue.”

“Itachi Uchiha.”

The name sent a shockwave through the room. White hot anger flared in Sakura. Itachi. Sasuke’s older brother. The shinobi who had murdered his entire clan in cold blood, who had tried to kidnap Naruto, who was directly involved with the organization that had killed Gaara, that had destroyed Konoha and caused so much pain to the person that she loved. Even if he didn’t love her back, Sakura could never forgive Itachi for the pain he inflicted on Sasuke.

Naruto was shrinking in his seat, like the name was a heavy weight descending on his shoulders. Shikaku and Shikamaru were both now sitting straight backed in their seats, giving Kakashi their undivided attention. Only Yamato and Gai remained impassive.

“What about the Uchiha?” Shikaku asked as the impact of the name started to settle.

“It seems that there is much more to Itachi’s actions than the village was initially lead to believe. Our information indicates that Itachi held no grudge against his clan. That his crimes, while heinous, were carried out under direct order from village leaders.”

Shikamaru laughed, the sound breaking through the tension like a paper bomb exploding in Sakura’s ears, “You must be joking. You can’t honestly believe that Lord Third would have allowed-“

Shikaku grabbed Shikamaru’s arm, and shooting him a sharp look to silence him.

Kakashi sighed, “I understand your skepticism. Like I said, Yamato and I don’t trust the source of our information, but given Danzo’s treachery and how long that was allowed to go on unnoticed, I don’t think we can dismiss anything outright. By the same token, none of this is to leave this tent. Until we are able to verify or disprove the claim, I want to keep this thing quiet.”

Shikamaru huffed, but Shikaku nodded thoughtfully, “Kakashi, you were his Anbu captain at one point. You probably know the most about Itachi of anyone present. Do you believe it’s possible that he was manipulated into massacring his clansmen?”

Sakura expected Kakashi to answer immediately. The entire thought of the village ordering a man to kill his entire clan was ludicrous.

Wasn’t it?

But Kakashi didn’t answer. One minute passed in silence and still Kakashi was sitting there, glaring down at his pen, unable to answer Shikaku’s question. It was Yamato who eventually spoke up.

“I served alongside Itachi on team Ro. Speaking frankly, I could never wrap my head around it. The Itachi I knew wasn’t capable of harboring that much hatred. Even with the proof right in front of our eyes, I couldn’t make sense of it.”

Sakura breathed in a sharp breath of surprise. Neither Kakashi or Yamato ever really spoke about their Anbu days, so she had been completely ignorant of the fact that they’d both been on a team with Itachi, much less been friends with him.

Did Sasuke know?

Kakashi nodded his head, “I agree with Yamato, Itachi Uchiha’s actions never made sense to me. I accepted that I must have missed the signs back then and once everything was said and done, I tried my best not to think about it. About him. He was my teammate, and I had failed him. But if this is true, then I failed him even worse than I ever could have believed.” Kakashi hung his head and Sakura could see how much this pained him. She could only imagine what he felt, having this ghost of his past being dragged back up to the surface, especially after so much recent pain and loss.

“Regardless of my and Yamato’s personal feelings about the man, there are other factors which lead us to believe that at least parts of the information we were given are true. Danzo did possess a number of Sharingan, including an eye that we can confirm belonged to Shisui Uchiha, who supposedly committed suicide by the Naka. Itachi was, at the time, suspected of murdering his cousin.”

Another pause, as Kakashi allowed the information to sink in. Shikaku was nodding his head in recognition of the name. Shikamaru was studying his father closely. Sakura could hear Naruto grinding his teeth in frustration.

“Alright,” Shikaku tapped his finger on the table, “Lets have it then. The whole story.”

Kakashi obliged, and slowly the story came out, with Yamato jumping in when it seemed that Kakashi was struggling to find the right words. About the plan for a coup d'etat that had been brewing within the Uchiha clan. The orders to spy on the Uchiha, to monitor them for signs of rebellion. Itachi’s assignment to team Ro, and his early promotion to captain under Danzo. About the death of a man named Shisui, who according to this had thrown himself off a cliff only after Danzo had stolen one of his eyes. The coup coming to a head, and Hiruzen asking Itachi to buy time to find a better solution than annihilation, and Itachi being approached later by Danzo, with a promise- that Itachi could ensure his little brother’s survival if he singlehandedly stopped the coup. The implication that if Itachi refused, Danzo would ensure the clan’s destruction, Sasuke and Itachi included.

The clan’s lives for Sasuke’s life. That was the deal that was put forth. And Itachi had accepted.

But it was the final bit of the story that chilled Sakura to her core.

“Hiruzen was aware of Itachi’s orders. While he may not have issued them himself, if our source is to be believed, he also made no effort to intervene. Its true that the Uchiha massacre solved the problem of the coup d'etat once and for all. But the only way it ended without anyone losing faith in Hiruzen was for Itachi to shoulder the blame. If he’d remained in the leaf village, Hiruzen would have been forced to punish him for the massacre. So instead, Hiruzen let Itachi leave the village, left the barrier jutsu formula intact so that Itachi could come and go as long as he remained hidden, and Itachi decided to join the Akatsuki. Not as a missing-nin, but as Konoha’s spy.”

Shikaku hummed, nodding his head, “I never was able to come up with a good reason why Hiruzen left the barrier jutsu formula alone. I assumed he believed that Itachi must not have any more reason to target the leaf, but even then when word came that Itachi had joined the Akatsuki, he ought to have changed it.”

“Right,” Kakashi was rubbing at his temple, probably fighting off a headache. He’d had a number of those since his brush with death at the hands of Pein.

“There are piece that add up. The barrier formula. The fact that the leaf village always had more intelligence on the Akatsuki and their movements than the other villages did. Danzo’s possession of the Uchiha eyes, Shisui’s eye especially. But there are also pieces I cant explain. Like why that bastard locked me in a seventy two hour genjutsu that almost killed me. And the only person who could confirm any of this, as far as I know, has been dead for three years.”

Gai said something in response to that, but Sakura had stopped listening, their voices fading to the background as something started to click in her head.

Konoha’s spy.

Had to stay hidden.

Could come and go as he pleased.

Her mind was spinning. Recalling strange orders issued by Tsunade. Treating a shinobi outside the hospital. Not allowed to use her healing chakra at all, only basic medical skills. The threat of being stripped of her rank as a shinobi if she disobeyed. A strange Anbu who never spoke. Who suppressed his chakra at all times. Who had eerily familiar eyes that always seemed to be filled with something she could never hope to understand.

“Sakura? Sakura are you alright?” Naruto’s hand was on her shoulder, shaking her gently. Tenzo and Kakashi were both watching her with concern, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

The name. Recognition like a bolt of lightning struck her and Sakura stood up so quickly that she sent her chair flying back with a crash.

She felt like she was going to explode. Every eye in the tent was on her, waiting for some kind of explanation for her sudden reaction. How on earth could she not have put it together earlier? Then again, she’d never been given any reason to suspect that Ghost, the strange anbu operative in the blank mask was Sasuke’s older brother.

Tsunade. Tsunade must have known. Her orders were to protect Ghost’s identity, because if Sakura had felt his chakra, even for an instant, she would have recognized the similarities to Sasuke’s, and there was only one other Uchiha left in the world. So many thoughts were crashing around inside Sakura’s mind. Anger. Anger at Ghost…Itachi…for lying to her, even if he had no other choice. It wasn’t like she would have ever helped him before if she knew who he was. She’d have been the first person to turn him in, no matter how much kindness he’d shown her. Anger at Tsunade, for allowing the farce to continue, despite knowing that Itachi had made the only choice he could have. Anger that Hiruzen, for failing to intervene and stop all the pain that the massacre caused. For Sasuke, and for Itachi.

Her eyes met Kakashi’s steady gaze. Her sensei, always so adept at reading what troubled her, waited patiently for her mouth to catch up to her mind.

“You knew?”

“No.” Not a lie. She hadn’t known, “But I’m pretty sure this is the truth. I…” gods above how did she even begin to explain it all? To explain about Ghost, his strange behavior, the bizarre connection they shared.

Tenzo was her saving grace. He seemed to have put some of the pieces together himself.

“The Anbu? The one you told me about?”

Sakura nodded and sank back down into her chair, hugging her arms into herself. The eyes of the group moved off of Sakura, looking to Tenzo for more information.

“Earlier this year, Sakura confided in me about a patient of hers. She wanted to know if I was aware of an Anbu agent whose mask was blank, no markings at all. She told me that Tsunade had asked her to treat him and that the arrangement came with some unusual orders which had her uncomfortable.”

Kakashi raised an eyebrow, “Are you referring to-“ Kakashi cut off, but Tenzo nodded, clearly understanding the question. Shikamaru grumbled.

“Care to explain for those of us who can’t read your mind?”

“Ghost,” Tenzo shot back, “It’s a…well for lack of better terms, it’s a ghost story that exists among the Anbu. A few years back a few genin claimed they were saved by an Anbu agent in a blank white mask, who slaughtered the enemy shinobi who were attacking them and then disappeared without a trace. No one believed them, but since then all kinds of stories about the faceless mask have popped up. Most of them are incredibly far fetched, but there are elements that remain consistent throughout. Black hair. Always alone. Never leaves any survivors except for leaf shinobi. Only fights with Kunai and a tanto, never jutsu. At least, none that anyone ever sees. I didn’t think anything of it, but when Sakura mentioned her patient to me, I did some digging. There is a file for an Anbu agent, codename Ghost, but there’s no serial number on the file, and everything in it was encoded.”

Kakashi sighed, “It’s not proof, but that seems pretty damning.” Apparently Kakashi didn’t have any better explanation that Sakura did.

“In that case, there are a few things to address. First and foremost, it is very likely that Sasuke has also been made aware of the fact that his brother acted under orders. I don’t think he knows about Itachi’s identity as an Anbu operative, but we need to be prepared because I’m not sure what kind of effect this information will have on him. The last I knew, Sasuke’s sole focus was on killing his brother for revenge. It’s quite possible that his desire for revenge will shift to target the village, or at least those he feels most responsible for Itachi’s actions.”

Everyone in the tent nodded their agreement.

“The second question is one of what to do about Itachi himself.”

This time no one nodded. It was a momentous question.

“Are you sure we need to do anything at all?” Shikaku asked, trying to be as gentle with the question as possible. Tenzo slammed his hand down on the table and looked like he wanted to throw himself at Shikaku.

“Of course we have to do something! He’s a leaf shinobi! He’s put his life in danger for the past nine years, alone, hated by everyone in order to protect the village. He deserves to know that he isn’t being held responsible for being forced to make an impossible choice when he was thirteen fucking years old!”

“Easy, Tenzo,” Kakashi seemed to be doing his best to keep his tone level, trying not to let his emotions get the better of him while they sorted things out, “You know that I want to see him again as much as you do, as a friend. But we need to consider what’s best for the village. At the least, I don’t think we need to come to a decision right now. Our first priority is to rebuild the village itself. When Tsunade wakes up, I’m sure she’ll have something to say on the matter.”

Sakura clenched her fist and felt her chakra start flowing into them out of instinct. You better believe that she’ll have something to say. I’ll make sure of it.

She pushed herself up from the table. She needed to hit something. Needed to break something. And if she didn’t leave now, she couldn’t be sure what exactly it was she was going to break. Better safe than sorry.

“Sakura? Going somewhere?”

“For a walk,” She hissed, daring anyone to try and stop her as she stormed out of the tent.

#Hey look guys #I found some muse #When did I start writing Sakura?#Actually I do like writing her POV #Ghost AU #Itachi #Itachi's secret is out!#Not sure if this will be divergent from my Ghost in the Leave Fic or if I'll include this as a chapter

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thotsforvillainrights · 3 years

Note

Ok this idea has been living rent free on my mind just hear me out, how about chubby Kai being insecure so the reader just shows him how beautiful he is, the reader being a soft dom and Kai being a sub.

(Pspsps can the reader have a bodyworship and a praise kinks please)

[Not me coming back after a long hiatus with barely reasonable smut lol. You’ll have to forgive me if this one isn’t as good. I feel like whatever ability I had to write smut just disappeared but I’m hoping I haven’t lost it. I promise I’ll do my best!]

~Adoration~

-Chubby!Kai Chisaki smut-

Adoration- deep love and respect

You sighed while mindlessly watching the show in front of you from your spot on the couch. Your eyes were trained on the TV but your mind was elsewhere. The people on screen slowly shifted into colorful blobs and soon your interest in whatever they were talking about began to drown out as well. It was like your body was there but it wasn’t at the same time. Instead of focusing on the shows, you were wondering what was taking so long in the other room. Usually it was the other way around, but tonight Kai was taking too long to get ready. After a while you began to worry, so reluctantly you stood from the warmth of the couch and trudged down the hallway, careful to not step on your dress end/tux pant leg (or whatever choice of fancy clothing reader chooses to wear). When you finally made it to the room, there he was. Kai was standing in front of the floor mirror while scowling to himself. Your eyes trailed to the myriad of clothes that littered the bed. He noticed your reflection behind him in the mirror and turned to look at you, trying his best to hide his discomfort. “Y/N, I’ll be finished in a moment. Go wait for me in the living room.” He demanded quietly while fumbling to unbutton the shirt he was wearing. You chuckled and pushed some of the clothes on the bed out of the way before taking a seat. “I don’t know if you noticed this or not Mr. Chisaki, but that’s what I’ve been doing for the past hour and a half. You don’t suppose we’ll be able to make it to the event within the next 20 minutes do you?” You teased him but your smile instantly diminished when you noticed his eyes were a bit glassy?

“Kai? What’s wrong?” He scoffed at your concern and tossed the shirt he was wearing onto the bed with the others. He went to the closet to search for something new but he paused when he noticed it was nearly barren, save for but a few ties hanging up. “Perhaps you should go without me...I’ve...changed my mind.” He spoke quietly, his back still turned to you. “What? Are you being serious with me right now or is this a joke?” You furrowed your brows. Suddenly he turned to look at you with a touch of anger and desperation in his eyes. “Do I look like the type to kid around?” You sighed and stood up to approach him. He was confused for the most part when you made it over to him and gently grabbed the sides of his face in your hands. You smiled and nuzzled your nose against his before planting a gentle kiss upon each cheek. You managed to diffuse his anger but the mood shifted when you saw his eyes glisten with water, tears threatening to fall but he was too stubborn to let it happen. “Kai please talk to me, you know I’ll listen if you tell me how you feel.” He sighed at your words and looked everywhere but into your eyes as he started to explain.

“None of my clothes look good on me anymore. I’ve gained so much damn weight in the past few months that I don’t recognize myself in the mirror anymore. I can barely stand to look at myself anyway...Aside from that, I can hear some of the men at the very lowest rung of the Hassaikai make fun of me behind my back. Surely I killed them off but it doesn’t diminish how their words made me feel. My quirk can easily be used to get rid of this issue but I feel like that’s the easy way out of things. I’d like to become much more active but between work I just can’t find the time. I’m a disappointment and far beneath what you deserve to be seen with.” He finished ranting to you and quickly reached up to wipe a tear away but you beat him to it. When he looked at you with wet eyes, he expected to see you agreeing with him but instead you met his gaze with adoration, love, and support. “Kai I can understand how you must be feeling right now. Gaining weight like that must’ve felt drastic considering its only been a few months but you shouldn’t be caught up comparing yourself to the past yknow? We’re humans, and our bodies grow with change. It’s good you want to work out instead of just using your quirk, but you should know that working out could be done to make yourself feel better health-wise instead of changing your appearance to change others. Personally I thought you were handsome before and I still think you’re handsome now as well. No matter what appearance you take on you will always be Kai Chisaki, young head of the Shie Hassaikai. If I can love you, then you owe it to yourself to love you as well. Got that, my capo?” He rolled his eyes at the nickname and rubbed away more tears. “I suppose...but now what will we do? I’ve made us late to the entire damn event and I’m sure Pops and the others are waiting on us.” He scratched his chin in thought and stared off at the wall while trying to figure out a game plan. Meanwhile you had much more devious intentions wrapped beneath all that fluff you laid on him. “Angel???” You caught his attention immediately when those hands of yours fumbled with the rim of his underwear. His ears and cheeks quickly turned pink/red from the shock of it all. “What are you doing?”

As if he had to ask.

You smirked at him and flashed mischief from those half-lidded eyes. “What do you mean what am I doing? I’m simply showing my husband how beautiful he is and how much I appreciate his body. You can’t honestly expect me to give up this opportunity when you’re right here in front of me.” You feigned innocence and he could already feel himself hardening up...especially with the way your free hand gripped him and teased him from the outside of the underwear. “Angel, but we’re already late. What if we-” He paused and sucked in air from his teeth when you slipped his cock out from the confinement of the underwear, and your tongue took an experimental swish at the tip. His hands clenched at his sides, trying his hardest not to grip your head and guide you. He was trying to deny it, keep his composure but you were too much to handle sometimes. “C’mon Kai, since we’re already late to the party, why don’t we have our own fun here, hmm? Be real good for me and let me taste that cock of yours? Maybe if you’re really a good boy, I’ll let you cum. How does that sound hmmm?” You voice may have seemed sweet, but he wasn’t dumb enough to fall for it. He knew of your dominance sometimes displayed in the bedroom when you were up to it. The temptation to bend to your will was all too strong so he obeyed. “Fine, j-just make it qu-quick.” He pouted and looked away from you, his face cherry red by now. You smirked in triumph and wasted no time on him. Taking his entire member and shoving it into your mouth at once may have been the closest thing to heaven on Earth he would ever feel in his life. In all honesty, he almost came right then and there, but he wanted to hold out for you. He needed to be good for you or else your punishment wouldn’t be nearly as soft as you were treating him right now.

“Mmmm, you’re certainly tasty Chisaki~” You spoke after slowly moving your mouth from him. You spit on the tip and used your thumb to spread it around, taking delight in the way he shivered under your touch. “Are those knees of yours getting weak, capo? You can’t really be giving out on me already can you?” You teased him and he groaned lowly. “C-cut it out and just suck it already.” You frowned at his demands and shook your head. “What are the magic words, handsome?” He blushed lightly at your compliment and uttered a soft ‘please’ while looking away. You smiled and began swirling your tongue around the head of his cock while using your hand to gently massage him. You only pulled away to occassionaly speak praises on him.

“You have such a lovely body Kai, it’s just right for me. I love your tummy, I love your cheeks, you shoulders, back, arms, all of it. I adore most of all the way it react when I’m touching you like this while we’re alone.” He shuddered at your words and only began quietly moaning when you went back down on him. With each bob of your head and hand, it was getting harder and harder to contain the sounds he was making. By the time he was nearing his finish, he was a moaning mess. His legs were shaking and standing was barely an option anymore but he held on so as to not appear to weak during your show of dominance. His face was a brilliant red/pink, and it was coated in a sheen of sweat. He couldn’t really find the words but this wouldn’t be good enough for you in the moment. You needed him to understand all of this was out of love, lust, and adoration for him so you made him beg.

“Kai speak up for me. All those moans are just a garbled mess and you know it.”

“Angel please...”

You smirked and worked your hand a bit faster than before, spitting on him again to keep the slick lubrication on his cock. “Beg harder for me handsome. Tell me you need this.”

“Please Angel, I can barely take anymore. I’m so close I’m-”

“Beg harder.”

“ANGEL PLEASE! I want to cum so badly, I’ll do anything!”

“Hmmmm, anything?”

“Yes, GOD YES!”

“Then admit it. Admit that your body is beautiful no matter what. Admit that you’re worthy of love from my, others, and most importantly yourself. And promise that you’ll stop being so hard on yourself. Do it Kai, if you wanna cum.”

“YES, I PROMISE...I’ll !!!” He gasped loudly and came without much of a warning, with you accidently getting caught in the crossfire. You pouted and he quickly looked away while trying to catch his breath. Slowly he fell to his knees on the ground in front of you and lowered his sweaty head to your shoulder. “Ugh, you make a mess of me every time...” He quietly gasped out between breaths. You wiped the cum from your face and pulled him into a tight hug. “Making a mess out of you is fun. I’m the only one that can do it, so I take a lot of pride in that.” You teased him lightly and he sighed. “Let’s go take a shower. This is disgusting you know.”

“Agreed.” You kissed his neck and joined him in the shower. After preparing for bed, you shot a text to Pops and the others letting them know that a matter of business came up last minute and that was why you and Kai couldn’t make it. After the little white lie, you cuddled up into bed beside him and he pulled you into his chest, placing his head on you so he could inhale your sweet scent from the body wash. “Y’know I meant everything I said back there, about loving yourself and how you were worthy of it. I just wanted you to know it wasn’t just the heat of the moment.” You spoke up after a long comfortable silence. You felt him kiss the top of your head as he began rubbing gentle and loving circles into your hip underneath the covers. “You treat me too well, Y/N. I love you, and I suppose I’ll make better attempts at your wishes. Now please go to bed.” You chuckled at his words and rolled to face him. His eyes were full of gentleness and appreciation for you. “Okay, mochi tummy.” You teased him with a smile and planted a gentle kiss on his lips before nuzzling into his neck and chest and falling asleep. “Pshhh, such an annoying nickname.” He lied before following shortly behind you to dreamland.

»—————————–———————————————————–✄

Instagram: @pastelbattydraws & @pastelbattystore

YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCRNMJH7vHL7APNobUykhK4w?view_as=subscriber

#bnha #mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #overhaul #kai chisaki #chisaki kai #yakuza #bnha overhaul #mha overhaul #smut

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hold-my-hand-kuroo · 4 years

Text

phases of the moon

tbh when they told me that i’d need eighth grade biology in the future, i didn’t think it’d be for this

also it’s almost 2 AM so forgive me this isn’t proof-read

pairing: tsukishima x reader

i. waxing gibbous

At the young age of seven, you meet your lifelong friend for the very first time. Initially, you’re a little bit scared to meet your new neighbors, especially when you’re told that one of the sons is the same age as you. It doesn’t make it easier that Tsukishima Kei is especially cool for a five year old. He’s quite tall, fast at his subtraction tables, and exceptionally good at naming dinosaurs and reading big words. To you, he’s basically an adult and completely unapproachable, even after sitting quietly in his room while the real adults were chatting elsewhere.

His room is clean, and you’re amazed at the stacks of chapter books resting on his desk. They have pictures of fossils and big-toothed birds and when you open it, pages are filled with blocks of long words; you’re amazed, curious, but unable to read any of it.

“Do you like dinosaurs?” the blonde boy asks, watching you flip through his books just for the pictures. You jump a little bit, surprised that he finally decided to speak to you after what seemed like years of silence. He has a raised eyebrow, but he doesn’t seem too mean. You’re still a little scared. “Or maybe not…?”

“They’re cool,” you finally answer, flipping back to the page that caught your attention. “I like this one the best.”

“That’s the tanystropheus.” His reply is instant, and you start to think that all kids that wear glasses must be smart. He gets up from his chair and walks toward you, taking a seat right next to you on the floor. “Its neck is three meters long which is like, way longer than its entire body.”

He continues on listing facts and saying large words that completely go over your head, and really, you’re in awe at his knowledge. You can’t believe that he’s really seven, but you also can’t believe that the quiet boy from two minutes ago is actually quite talkative. It’s almost like a switch was flipped, turning him into a more animted version of himself. You don’t mind, but you wish he’d slow down just a little bit so that you could follow.

“Which one do you like?” you ask, diverting the topic and hoping that he’d stop. He flashes you a grin before flipping to another page. It’s clear that he has the book memorized.

“I like the pterodactyl.” Pointing to what seemed like a dragon, his eyes are practically glowing. “They can fly, you know?”

“Like birds?”

“Yeah, but birds are a little different since they have feathers.”

For the next three hours, Tsukishima reads to you, and even though you’re confused with some of the names, the effort you put into understanding seems to please him. It’s not every day that he has a companion to talk about dinosaurs to; usually, his friends would call him boring and leave, so he doesn’t bother expressing his interests. In fact, he’s so ecstatic at his newfound companion that you find him at your door almost every day with a new book in hand. Over sweets, preferably strawberry shortcake, Tsukishima reads to you, pausing once in a while to see if you have questions. Sometimes, he’d adjust his glasses a little, and you’d find yourself thinking over and over again, “He’s such an adult.”

Afternoons get loud when Tsukishima introduces the card game Dinosaur King to you. He’s all smiles when you walk into his room one day, running up to you with his deck and a deck of your own that he bought with his carefully saved allowance. Once the two of you get into it, hours feel like seconds. Rather than gameplay, you’re more fascinated by the card design, but since you know that Tsukishima likes a good challenge, you try your best to play well. You find your math skills improving drastically, calculating lost life points almost every day, and when you beat Tsukishima for the very first time, the two of you laugh at your own excitement and flailing arms.

Once it got warm enough to play outdoors, you pass your time in his backyard with his older brother, Akiteru, who’s actually a real-life giant. Even though he’s tall and a whole twelve years old, he smiles a lot and is just like a kid, except not. You don’t know much about him except for the fact that he plays volleyball, and according to Tsukishima, who practically glows with pride every time you watch him practice, he’s very good at it. You think volleyball might run in the family’s blood considering that whenever Akiteru throws a ball for you and Tsukishima to receive, you’d always miss while Tsukishima would bump it back. You’re a little proud that your best friend is smart, athletic, and incredibly kind and wonder if he’s just naturally good at everything.

Childhood is filled with reptiles, backyard volleyball, and laughter, especially Tsukishima’s. You can’t say you hate the sound of it considering that it makes you giggle too. For Christmas that year, you write a letter to Santa wishing that things would stay the same forever.

ii. waning crescent

Things begin changing when you’re both twelve. Tsukishima’s tall as ever, looming over most of the other kids in your class, and with his height comes the expectation for him to be a real adult. You almost feel bad for thinking the same thing five years ago, especially when he starts to smile less. It’s childish, he says at one point, renouncing his card games in place for constant volleyball practice.

If anything, Tsukishima’s more focused on volleyball than ever, and you’re not surprised. With Akiteru being both his idol and the ace of Karasuno, you figured that he’d want to follow his brother’s footsteps at some point. You’re not sure what being the ace means, but Tsukishima’s convinced that only the coolest grown-ups are allowed to have that position; you suppose that’s why he’s trying so hard to act differently, but you don’t mind helping him out. Tsukishima’s the happiest when you’re throwing balls for him to receive or spike after school, and because it’s the only time where he genuinely smiles without holding back, you’re more than willing to keep helping him practice. It’s the closest thing to normal and is painfully nostalgic.

You’re not sure what to do when Tsukishima begins to tease you. Sure, his tongue has gotten significantly sharper within the past few years, but you know well that he’d never tease out of malice. Not to you anyways, so you just laugh and tease back, because you hate letting him have the last laugh.

When rumors being to spread at school about Tsukishima being some big bully, you’re more than eager to debunk each and everyone, to show them all that your best friend, although a little bit cold, is nothing of the sort. He stops you though, because he doesn’t care. You don’t understand what’s so fun about being feared or ostracized, and you definitely don’t know why he continues to push his classmates away, but you don’t want to force him to do something he doesn’t. Still, you wonder if the whispers ever bother him. Being cool and an adult at the same time seemed incredibly lonely.

Yamaguchi is a special exception much to your delight. Rather than being frightened, he reminds you of your younger self being attracted to Tsukishima’s maturity, and you find it oddly reassuring that Tsukishima is still able to let people into his life. You suppose it’s because Yamaguchi is interested in volleyball too, and now, he can pass the ball with someone besides you during his free time since you’re not that good at the sport in the first place. Nonetheless, Yamaguchi urges you to join. “The more the merrier,” he says, and Tsukishima seems to agree but never verbally. It’s been five years though, so you know that when he fiddles with his glasses and looks at the ground, it means he wants you to play with him.

Whenever you’re free, you visit the junior volleyball program to cheer on your friends. Tsukishima pretends that he hates the attention, but you know he doesn’t, and when you’re asking Yamaguchi about how practice went, you catch the blonde’s eyes flickering at you and then away. You know he wants you to ask him too, and you almost always comply if he isn’t being too mean to you. It’s fun to tease him back since it always catches him off guard. It’s then that you begin to hope that maybe, just maybe, Tsukishima would replace some of those condescending smirks with more smiles again.

Your hopes are for naught.

Despite fully immersing himself into the sport, Tsukishima’s first time watching a high school match ends with an abrupt realization. You and Yamaguchi are with him, and it’s devastating to see his face fall when his eyes meet with Akiteru’s in the stands, cheering for the guy he’s been lying to Tsukishima about being. It’s the highest form of betrayal, and after that single match, everything changes.

No longer does Tsukishima walk to volleyball practice with hidden excitement, and no longer does he ask you to practice with him after school. It becomes hard to talk to him, much to your dismay, and you often find yourself sitting in his room in silence as the two of you study. He doesn’t read to you, he doesn’t flaunt his knowledge. He just sits there across from you, not meeting your eyes at all. Maybe it’s out of shame for trying so hard to be someone who wasn’t what they said they were. Maybe it’s just the crippling disappointment eating away at his spirit. You don’t know and neither does Yamaguchi.

His image doesn’t improve that much in class either. You’ve noticed that he has a newfound distaste for excessive energy and big expectations, and it makes him more dislikable by the kids around him. His tongue is venomous, and even though you know deep in your heart that he’s a nice person, nobody se can believe it. Still, he’s never genuinely rude to you aside from occasional snide and playful remarks. That’s the only thing left that you can keep a hold of, so you settle for it.

The two of you are so far away from being adults, but it feels so lonely even then.

iii. new moon

Tsukishima’s aware that he’s different from how he was during his childhood, but it’s always comforting to know that you understand him inside-and-out. He’ll never say it out loud though, since he isn’t exactly good at things like expressing his feelings or showing genuine sincerity, but he expects that you’ll understand. The knowing silence that the two of you shared is practically irreplaceable.

Which is why it hurts a lot more when you choose to confront him.

It’s the night before his summer training camp during his first year of high school that you have your first serious fight with your best friend. In the past, your fights have been more like playful banter or simple bickering. You’ve never raised your voice against him and vice versa, but when you’re sitting on his bed and watching him pack his bags while complaining about what a hassle practice is, you can’t help but question his motives.

“Then why are you still in the club?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. He hums, his usual sound for acknowledgement, but doesn’t turn to look at you.

“It’d look good on my resume,” he answers matter-of-factly. You’re not convinced, especially since you know for sure that his grades are already stand-out and that he could’ve done anything but continue the sport.

You sigh. “Are you sure that’s it?”

“What do you mean by that?” You notice the small change in his tone and suddenly become aware of the awkward tension in the room. Slowly, he turns toward you, feigning a smile. “You know that it’d just be easier for me to continue, since it’s the only sport I know, right? You can’t expect me to learn basketball-“

“Kei, you like volleyball don’t you?” you interrupt, shaking your head. You’re desperate to know why he keeps burying his feelings, especially since the trust between the two of you was a piece of work years in the making. It stung a little bit, and frankly, you’re sick of it. “You like volleyball, so that’s why you keep playing.”

“Haven’t you been listening to me since like, forever?” he asks, laughing sarcastically while rolling his eyes. “I hate sweating, and you know I can’t stand the weird duo. I’ve said it thousands of times, hello?”

“Then you would’ve quit.” You say it bluntly, because in reality, it is that simple. Tsukishima liked to pretend to be complex, but he never was. “I’ve known you for years, Kei, and you wouldn’t keep playing if you actually-“

“I hope you aren’t pulling the childhood friends card.” Now that one hurt. “Even if we’ve known each other for years, you can’t be so sure that you know everything about me, right? I mean, I barely know anything about you-“

“Liar.” You feel yourself getting heated. You’re not sure if it’s because the conversation is getting nowhere or if it’s because you’re shocked by his words, but you don’t want to just drop the topic. “Kei, you’re scared, aren’t you?”

“Of what?” he scoffs. He grips the shirt he’s holding to the point where his knuckles begin to turn white. That’s how you know you’ve hit bullseye.

“You’re scared of trying hard again, because you think everyone around you are better than you-“

“But they are. That’s just facts,” he scoffs again, this time becoming more tense. “No matter what I do, I can’t even compare. Have you see how Hinata jumps? I’d just get eaten up, so why would I even try?”

“Because you want to, but you’re just scared of failing.”

His gaze at you becomes icy, and you feel chills running down your spine. Gulping, you try your best to not waver under his pressure, because you meant everything you said. You know you’ve struck a nerve when his eyes turn into a glare, face close to a scowl. He’s mad, and you’re at a loss of what to do.

“I don’t know why you’re being like this, but I’ll have you know that failing isn’t impressive,” he says with a wave of his hand. His tone is like nails against a chalkboard, and you feel as if the relationship you’ve built throughout the years has completely disappeared. “Let’s say I do try, and I get benched anyways. That’d be worse than if I didn’t-“

“See? You’re scared.” You sit up straighter this time, refusing to lose your edge. He glares at you, jaw clenching, but says nothing. “You want to become a better player, don’t you? You shouldn’t be afraid of being like—“

“Enough.” He’s curt and to the point. If there’s anything that he hates more than wasted effort, it’s being confronted and having the confronter being correct. Of course, he shouldn’t be surprised since it’s you, but he’s still annoyed. “It’s getting late. You should leave.”

You frown. It’s not late at all. In fact, dinner probably wasn’t even ready at your house yet, but you know what he’s trying to say. Getting up slowly, you pace to his door, opening it quietly. He’s not facing you anymore, and you turn around to see that he’s occupied with folding more clothes to add into his duffel.

“Kei…you know I’m telling you this because I know you’re capable right?” you try one more time, voice barely above a whisper. “I’ve seen you block before, and you can read other people so well-“

It falls like fake praise against his ears, and in his mind, Tsukishima remembers all the blocks he couldn’t stop, the ones that he knows that even if he tried, he couldn’t have due to a sheer difference in skill and talent. There were other people who were good or even better at his position, and he’d be damned if he were caught trying and still couldn’t compete. He knows he’d lose in the end, and he wants to avoid the sinking feeling of disappointment at all costs.

He thought you knew. You were there with him when he saw his entire dream diminish into nothingness within the span of seconds after all.

“Someone’s getting all cocky just because they’ve known me for a while, huh?” he lies through his teeth, nails digging into his own skin as he says it. He wonders why he can’t come to terms with you, but more importantly, he wonders why he’s choosing to hurt you instead. “Don’t get too ahead of yourself. Like I’ve said, maybe we’re not as close as you think, Y/N.”

You wince. It’s his first time speaking to you like that, and you realize it’s the same tone he used to mock others. Other that weren’t close to him at all. It hurts a lot more than you expected. Still, you refuse to have him have the last word.

“Fine. Be like that.”

The two of you don’t talk for the next few days, and you don’t even receive the regular texts complaining about Hinata and Kageyama while he’s gone at the training camp. It’s lonely without Tsukishima to vent to, and you miss the snide remarks he’d make about the people you hated. He was always there to cheer you up, but now, he only makes you frustrated. You don’t think you’re wrong, but you wonder if you had gone too far that night. Maybe you should have just left it as it was, or better yet, not have brought it up at all.

It’s not until Tsukishima returns home that you hear from him.

“Hey,” you star awkwardly when you open your door. He’s showered but looks exhausted from playing the sport he supposedly hated for days on end. The worst part was that he still wasn’t looking at you, and you’re so bothered by it that you don’t hear his mumbling. “What did you say?”

“Sorry,” he mutters again, staring pointedly at the floor. His brows are furrowed in clear frustration, and when you let out an audible gasp, he only grows more flustered. “I said too much before.”

“Me too,” you respond after taking in his apology. You don’t remember the last time, if ever, that Tsukishima had said sorry to you, and you’re surprised that he’s even capable of doing so. “I shouldn’t have brought it up-“

“No, I was being…rude,” he struggles. It looks as if he’s physically pained with the idea of admitting his faults, and if it weren’t for the situation, maybe you would’ve laughed. “I didn’t mean it when I said that.”

“About what?” you probe, and he grunts, foot shuffling ever so slightly.

“About us not being close,” he practically grits through his teeth. He’s conflicted with what to say next, but you’re more amazed at his honesty. “We are. I didn’t mean it. And you were right.”

He stands still, bracing himself for a response. In reality, Tsukishima Kei is afraid of a lot of things, and he hates to admit it. He knows that you’re aware of his fear of humiliation and being overwhelmed by others around him, but he wonders if you also know about how scared he is to lose you, his closest friend. His tongue is sharp, too sharp for his own good. He’d be lying if he said that he didn’t lose sleep during the past few nights worrying about how he might’ve made you cry.

“I like you a lot more when you’re honest, Kei,” you chuckle finally, and he lets out a heavy sigh, shoulders sagging. You can tell that he was anxious and that it took a great deal from him to see you, but it’s almost endearing. “And here I thought that I’d have to open up applications for a new best friend. I was thinking about Tadashi, actually.”

He smirks, looking up. “If you’re in the mood to tease me, could you at least let me in? You’re letting all your air conditioner out with door open, and I’m in the mood to complain about people.”

You comply almost instantly, pulling him by the wrist through the door and into your room. Like clockwork, he sits against your bed right next to you, and it almost feels normal again with him telling you about terrible the training camp was and how he couldn’t sleep because the people around him snored too loudly. It’s relieving.

“I learned how to block better,” he adds finally after debating whether or not to tell you. Your eyes glow, and oddly enough, he can’t find it in himself to hate how smug you look. “I still hated the camp though.”

“Because you missed me, right?” you joke. Tsukishima outright stiffens straight, holding his breath and hoping that you wouldn’t notice. But of course, you do. “Oh man, I really got you there.”

“Shut up,” he grumbles, looking away again with a scowl.

iv. third quarter

You remember a few things. The sound of Ushijima’s spike hitting Tsukishima’s hand followed by the slam of the ball that lands back on the floor, the roar of the crowd, and Akiteru’s yelp as your iron grip around his hand tightens and practically cuts off his blood flow. When you break down the memory further, you see Tsukishima just seconds before the block wearing an awfully cocky smirk, and that’s when you realize that it’s all premeditated. From the way he kept glancing at the setter with such a cold and chilling stare to the way his arms moved over toward his left, Tsukishima had played the block over and over again in his mind. It was the seed of his efforts finally coming to fruition.

And then there was his declaration of love for the sport that was no longer “just a club,” his yell that silenced the court and stunned everyone in the stands. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted the stray glance that he spared you, as if to ask, “Did you see that?” You almost laughed, because of course you did.

These thoughts flood your mind as you cling on tightly to Tsukishima in the lobby after the game, ignoring all the obnoxious howls and cheers from Tanaka and Nishinoya in the back. You feel like you’re about to cry again, as the tall boy desperately tries to pry you off of his body without being too forceful, pushing you by your shoulders and desperately trying to walk out of your hug. He says something about you making a scene, but you honestly don’t care enough to listen.

“Are…are you crying?” he asks, voice mixed with surprise and frustration, still trying to shove you off. “You’re getting your snot all over my shirt, Iet go, Y/N-“

When you finally do decide to put some space between the two of you, Tsukishima sighs in relief and sends Yamaguchi and Hinata a glare for giggling in the back; however, what he didn’t expect was for you to take his hand into yours, gently tracing your fingers over the bandages. He sighs as you being to tear up again and runs his free hand through his hair.

“Pretty lame, right?”

“Kei, you’re literally the most stupid person I’ve ever met in my life, and I hope you know that.” He’s not used to being insulted, let alone twice since Yamaguchi had also given him an earful in the bathroom. He’s startled and annoyed but chooses silence over bickering. He’s still a little scared of fighting with you for the second time.

“It was only one block, and I got hurt anyways. It’s-“

“It was a whole block against Ushijima,” you wail loud enough for the entire lobby to hear. Tsukishima’s absolutely mortified, giving a look to Yamaguchi and telling him to get something to wipe your tears with, anything. “You touched the ball so many times, and you knew where all the spikes were going, and you read them like an open book, and you made their setter scared, and then you even tried to run to do that slide spike thing, and then you did the yelling thing for the first time ever, and-“

“Okay, okay, I get it, you thought I did well,” he practically pleads, trying to steer you to a less crowded area. The boy is desperate to escape the grins of his team members. “Now will you please stop crying? Actually, why are you even crying? I don’t understand-“

“It’s because you’re stupid.”

You ignore the affronted grunt he lets out and instead wonder how you could possibly explain to him about why you were crying. Would he even be able to understand what it felt like when you witnessed his fall from grace, the abrupt end to his childhood, only for him to rise again and become more than what he could ever expect? You doubt it, but just thinking about it keeps your tears going, and you’re sure that you’d have worst pair of swollen eyes after you were done.

“Why are you crying harder now?” he huffs, exasperated.

Tsukishima rolls his eyes and does his best not to tease you about your futile attempts at hiding your face. He groans inwardly, not knowing what to do when you were emotional. He’s not very in tune with his own feelings, let alone someone else’s, so instead of struggling for proper words of consolation, he heaves a very heavy sigh and pulls you back into his chest. He’s a bit awkward with his hands, not knowing where exactly to put them after you lean in. His arms hover around your waist, but he doesn’t dare touch you. He doesn’t know why he’s so nervous, but he keeps his arms awkwardly in the air until it’s time for him to leave for the awards ceremony. Even then, he doesn’t actually want to leave you alone still crying.

“I’m gonna call you later,” you tell him right before he’s about to turn around, “and I’m gonna tell you about how dumb you’re being. Again.”

“Looking forward to it,” he mumbles under his breath, and you barely hear it. Barely. “I’d clean myself up if I were you though. You look terrible.”

Your laugh comes out as some kind of sniffle or snort. Tsukishima shows a face of disgust. As is turns out, mean Tsukishima and happy Tsukishima weren’t mutually exclusive. And you could live with that.

v. full moon

You suppose that after years of pretending to be some kind of mature and cold adult, Tsukishima has to make up for the childhood that he ended earl on. Or at least that’s what you reason as he wraps his long arms around your waist, pulling you in between his legs. Placing his chin on your shoulder, he presses his cheek against yours, moving around ever-so-slightly, because he knows that you’re terribly ticklish.

“Kei, I’m trying to type a paper,” you whine, trying to shake off his long arms. Of course, he doesn’t let you, and you feel his fingers sink into your sides. You let out a yelp. “It’s due in an hour, so I’d really like it if you stopped tickling me.”

“Maybe you should’ve worked on it earlier this week, then.” He’s trying to provoke you, and even if you can’t see his face, you know he’s wearing his signature smirk. “I mean, you had all that time, but instead, you just-“

“Why are you acting like you weren’t the one who made me rewatch all the Jurassic Park movies?”

“You could’ve just said no,” Tsukishima laughs, running a hand through your hair. It didn’t take a lot to realize that he was trying to get you to fall asleep before you could finish properly.

“Even though you were clinging onto me so that I wouldn’t be able to leave the couch?” you muse, refusing to be deterred. Your fingers continue to move at a lightening pace, but you’re not sure what you’re actually writing.

“I don’t remember that happening, though.” His voice is playful and teasing, yet soft enough for you to start feeling your eyelids grow heavy. “Looks like someone’s getting sleepy. Why don’t you just call it a night?”

“I’m almost done, Kei,” you try to reason with him. You hear him sigh, and roll your eyes. “If you want cuddles so badly, help me edit my other pages so I can get this done faster.”

“I never said anything about cuddles,” he denies almost instantly, voice raising. You can tell that he’s flustered and smile to yourself at your small victory.

Despite his protests and clear explanation that he wants you to hurry up because he can’t sleep with your laptop screen being that bright, he takes his phone to access the document that you’ve shared with him, still refusing to let go of you. He always hated editing on his phone, but he chooses to tolerate it just for you. He won’t admit it, but he likes the way your body feels pressed against his chest and how you’ll jolt when he accidentally pokes your rib. He laughs at your little typos while scrolling carefully through your paper, making sure to tease you about them, as he also enjoys it when you get frustrated and try to get out of his arms. He’s fully aware that you can’t, and he’s sure that you know that too, but he finds the effort amusing.

“Why does it feel like you’ve returned to being a kid,” you groan quietly, annoyed that your concentration was being broken. “I know you want to be spoiled and want my undivided attention, so it’d work out a lot better for the both of us if you just edited my work quietly. Like a good kid, Kei.”

“I’m 23,” he corrects pointedly, casually skipping over the fact that he really did want your attention and was getting annoyed that you were so focused on your essay instead of him. Sure, he understands that it’s an important final for you, but he can’t help but feel just a little bit irritated that the bed was feeling colder than usual.

“You look like a hag but have the mind of a toddler, I swear.” Just one more conclusion paragraph and a works cited page. “I’m almost done, baby. Promise.”

“Am I really being called a kid when you can’t even do your work on time?” he snorts, eyes tiredly scanning the wall of words. He yawns and buries his face into the side of your neck. Setting his phone down on your lap, he lets his finger brush against your thigh and laughs when you grumble something about him being more of a kid for stealing your strawberry from your cake earlier today. “When you’re free tomorrow, I’ll buy you a new slice.”

“Yeah, so that you can steal my strawberry again,” you mutter with a roll of your eyes. “I know you, Kei.”

“Such a shame that you couldn’t have it,” he chuckles. “It was good, I’ll tell you that.”

As an act of grace, Tsukishima gives you a moment of silence to quickly add the finishing touches to your paper before watching you hit submit with excessive gusto. Laughing at your over-dramatization, removes his arms and all but drags you to the bed.

“It’d be more romantic if you carried me instead of pulling me around like luggage,” you complain. He extends his arm for you to rest on, and you adjust yourself so that you can face him.

“You’re dating the wrong guy if you’re looking for a Casanova.” He allows for you to take his glasses off and nearly presses into your hand that you place on his check. Moving his palm to cover your own, you hum as his fingers trace over your skin.

“Should I break up with you, then?” you tease, making it apparent that it was just a joke based on the amount of tenderness in your voice. “After all, my boyfriend looks at me the same way he does at dusty, old dinosaur bones.”

“Even though your mom literally called me today asking when we’re planning on getting married?”

“I wish she’d stop,” you sigh and frown. “I can’t believe she’s already talking about marriage when we haven’t even graduated yet.”

“She’s been talking about marriage since our second year of high school. This isn’t anything new.” Tsukishima breaks into a small, rare smile. “We’re going to graduate soon, though.”

“And? Are you saying what I think you’re saying-“

“I’m not trying to imply anything,” he denies with a grin. Cheeky. “Rather, what are you implying?”

“Well, do you want to do the whole marriage thing?” You question him out of curiosity rather than with an intent to pressure. After all, you had a hard time imagining Tsukishima in a domestic setting, especially since all he ever did was bother you and distract you whenever you had chores to do or cooking to get done. “I mean, not like right now, but in the future.”

“I wonder,” he muses. Running his thumb over your ring finger, Tsukishima thinks about which types of rings would suit you the best. His mind plays through design, color, and cut of the diamond, but he does this silently while chuckling at your look of confusion. He doesn’t want to say anything now, not when the two of you were still very much overwhelmed with what life had to offer. There’d be a better, more appropriate time, and he tries to picture what that day would be like and when it’d be. He gets a little excited by his own imagination.

“Kei, what’s that supposed to mean?” He only looks at you in response, eyes tender even if he won’t say exactly how much you make his heart grow crazy and how he feels like he’s the luckiest man in the world. He’s sure you know how he feels anyway.

“You’re tired, right?” he chooses to respond instead. Placing chaste kiss against your forehead, he closes his eyes much to your dismay and protests. “I’m already asleep.”

There’s something about his delicate and warm kisses that puts you at ease. From the way his arm always stayed around your waist at night to the look he’d give you first thing in the morning, you have a sinking suspicion that you already know the answer to your question.

“Love you, Kei,” you whisper, and despite him being “asleep”, you the corners of his mouth quiver slightly before turning upward.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #tsukishima kei #kei tsukishima #tsukishima #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei x reader #kei tsukishima x reader

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