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blorbosinmyheadcentral · 6 months

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your art makes me explode in a positive way like

im chewing and swallowing it in an aggressive way like

it's just SO good im melting ilove your shading and KEHEKEBEKJDJF

anwayshi hello do you happen to have any headcanons for showtime rolls on the floor and dies

Thank you so much, really appreciate it!

Oh God I don't know if this will read as coherent because my thoughts about Showtime are all over the place. But I'll try to format this the best I can

✨Showtime HCs! ✨

Their relationship starts when they start spending time together.

(The reason why they do so could vary. In Supervised Machine Learning's case, Pomni becomes something of a "tutor" to Caine; They discover that they work well together, and the other's company can be quite pleasant!).

So Pomni and Caine build a weird, but comforting friendship, and all is well.

Then the feelings appear.

Caine is the first to realize he fell in love.

It sounds illogical but hear me out… it'd be really funny--

Ok no seriously I think Caine can actually feel. Keyword "can". He's very much still a machine and it shows in the pilot. But like his inspiration (AM), Caine is also a rogue AI. Whatever his programming originally intended him to do, he probably doesn't follow it as closely now as back when he was created (which is a whole other post).

Caine knows what love is and the extend it can go, since the Moon is so open about her feelings. He just doesn't like the Moon back specifically haha (sorry Moon) :}

All this to say, I do believe this is within the realm of possibility for him. (Not that it's ever gonna happen towards anyone in the show. These are just wishful shippy thoughts).

He might not recognize it as love at first, because it manifests in such a different way from his one reference point.

His friendship with Pomni had gone through phases.

When they first met, he continuously touched her with no concern for how she felt.

Learning from and about Pomni herself led him to come to respect her boundaries (and becoming mindful of everyone else's).

Then they're close friends, and gradually, Pomni does not mind his regular wacky, touchy-feely self. So Caine acts as he had always done before.

Caine expresses his love for Pomni with physical gestures and his undivided attention.

When they teleport to travel to other places, he holds her close so she doesn't get too dizzy; he pats her head to reassure her; he touches her arm to get her attention; he grabs her hands when he's excited about her ideas; he holds eye contact for prolonged periods of time; and he touches, and touches, and touches, and touches.

It's selfish, and so he keeps it buried in his deepest 0's and 1's. But he'd like to keep hanging out with Pomni, having her in his sight, and feel the texture of her gloved hands until the end of time.

Despite all this, to him, virtually nothing changed.

What? He's spending time with Pomni as he'd always been doing, and behaving as he'd always behaved!

It's Bubble of all people that has to point out that, "Hey boss. I think you WANT her!"

Absurd. Nonsense. Preposterous! It is merely a relationship of mutual support and affection between a ringmaster and his trusted, former-human companion. Nothing more.

(Declaring his love to her unprompted didn't ever cross his mind, so there's no way it could be that. Is there?)

Caine finds out that yes, there is.

Pomni had always been a nervous wreck, but her mind state becomes more manageable over time. She eventually adjusts to the circus life like everyone else did.

"Accepting" her fate is a different story. The will to escape, to remember, never really leaves. She's just more careful about it.

So when she starts working with Caine - to improve life so people don't go abstracting anymore, and hopefully find a definitive exit - she's not expecting to end up liking her time with him.

Not that she'd absolutely hate it, either. He's… "okay"… Just-- outlandish, loud, he keeps invading her personal space, he keeps touching her, and it makes her die a little every time.

If he's up to listening, though… it can't be that bad, right?

Turns out that no, it wasn't that bad.

Yes, he is outlandish, loud, he keeps invading her personal space and touching her. But she explains what she means to him, clearly and patiently, and he makes an effort to do better. An actual effort.

Sometimes he'd misinterpret what she meant - the ambiguity of human language - and the new games would go horribly. But little by little, his efforts make life overall better. Something reminiscent of actual, real life, the one they've all forcibly left behind.

And he tries, and he tries, and Pomni finds herself enjoying the process as much as the good results.

Pomni likes Caine's eagerness to learn. His enthusiastic attitude borders on silly, and the absurdity makes her laugh on occasion. When faced with the prospect of a "real" exit, she loves his upbeat optimism.

When she's not hanging out with Ragatha, Jax, Gangle, Zooble and Kinger, she begins to enjoy spending quality time with Caine.

Each one of their hang outs is a new surprise. They make a picnic in the tallest mountain exactly in between day and night. They learn to dance - while floating in the air. "Since you asked, here's a DIGITAL camera! Let's take pictures of the Void for one tenth of a second at a time!"

Sometimes he just comes by Pomni's room, and they end up losing track of time. Just chatting about how things have been, what they could be, and what to do next. Ideas and ideas and ideas.

Before Pomni knows it, she's comfortable enough that recalling his old habits makes her not dread them anymore. So when Caine stands close and lightly touches her arm due to oversight, she makes sure he knows it's all right.

And they keep spending time together, and he touches, and touches, and touches her. Pomni, in turn, feels lighter, and lighter, and lighter. Peaceful, at ease. Dare she say, happy, even.

Life is not perfect. As it stands though, it's good enough. No one has abstracted. No one is at risk of abstracting so far.

Progress is slow, but the research for an exit continues, and she is hopeful. The thought of actually leaving grows closer to reality. But a part of her feels heavy.

When it occurs to Pomni that leaving the Amazing Digital Circus means leaving Caine behind, she is alarmed by how much she'll miss him.

It'll hurt. Badly. So much the thought pains her even now.

The moment Pomni realizes this, she comes to the unexpected conclusion that she may like Caine a little more than she thought she would.

This later leads to an interesting discussion with Ragatha.

By the time Pomni comes to that conclusion, Caine is already down bad.

Neither has any idea that the other is in love with them.

Cue dumbasses trying to deal with their feelings while the potential conflict the escape brings looms over their heads.

Thanks for coming to my TED talk!

#showtime #tadc showtime #caine x pomni #pomni x caine #showtime ship #cherpiet #Really appreciate how their dynamic can blur the line of friendship/romance so easily #Supervised Machine Learning is just. *gestures at all that*. minus the romance #Also sorry for taking so long to answer the ask I am not good at answering asks #I don't always know what to say #I wish I had what gooseworx has. She is a big insp #long post

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verityswritings · 2 years

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Yandere Sai Headcanons

Part Two of the Twelve Part One Year Anniversary Event!!

Part one (Naruto headcanons)

Sai would be pretty delusional about his feelings for you. He still lacks the capacity to understand what he’s feeling, especially when it’s towards you. Emotions are very complicated and confusing for him, but it’s even more puzzling when he thinks about how he feels towards you. He couldn’t understand why he felt differently about you than the others and Sai couldn’t quite tell what he was feeling.

So obviously he’d probably ‘research’ about these feelings in the library. After reading some books that have terrible advice about romantic feelings and dating (not that he’d realize that lmao) he’d finally come to the conclusion that he has a romantic interest in you.

(Also random, but I feel like Sai would probably offhandedly mention this research he did to Sakura or Naruto and they’d be like ‘??? Obviously you have a crush? What did you think it was?’)

Anyways, I feel like he’d be a really big stalker. And he’d be extremely good at it too considering he is a former Anbu member. He finds it interesting to see how you act when you think you’re alone versus how you act around him or others. It’s very interesting to Sai to see the different aspects of your personality this way.

Sai doesn’t understand feelings, but he’s still intelligent. He’d realize that this behavior wasn’t a totally normal thing, but he wouldn’t really think that it’s a bad thing because he doesn’t view it as harmful. Anbu stalk their targets all the time and that’s normal, in his mind this behavior is pretty typical stuff.

I think that Sai would take things you do the wrong way pretty often. He’d probably read something in a book about how to act romantic or something and take everything it said to heart. Like oh you’re wanting to go to lunch with him? Well this is obviously a date because the book said people who are trying to pursue someone ask their crush out to lunch or something. Or oh perhaps you might be unconsciously maintaining eye contact with him more than usual today? You’re obviously in love with him because his book said this would happen.

Sai would also try to make romantic gestures to you, but it’d probably fly right over your head because it didn’t make any sense. Like Sai would do what he thought was the most romantic thing ever and you’d just be like ‘oh… okay. thanks’ and he’d get so confused. He’d probably then just bluntly state his ‘feelings’ for you.

When you do presumably enter a relationship with him, it is 100% up to you to lead the relationship and know what to do. Sai wouldn’t have any idea what to do, it’d honestly be so awkward at the beginning.

He’d probably expect you to tell him anything and everything about yourself. He’d also probably follow you around all the time now because he’s your boyfriend. Isn’t that what he’s supposed to do? He’d become kind of obsessive towards you. He was like that before he started to date you, but it’s now he’s much more open about it. He’s your boyfriend so obviously you’re supposed to tell him anything he wants to know about you? That’s how it works, why don’t you realize that?

Being mean is something Sai often finds himself being, intentional or not. Sai sometimes says things bluntly in a way that might offend you. He doesn’t always mean to be rude, but he doesn’t find a reason to censor himself. Though there are times he intentionally says rude things to you as well. Sometimes you just need a reality check, he thinks. You should have the sense to listen to him or to not leave him or else he will tell you so.

Manipulative is definitely something that Sai can be at times. He doesn’t completely understand how he feels towards you, but he knows he wants to be with you. And if he feels he has to ‘push’ you slightly to be with him then so be it.

I think he’d also be quite jealous at times, even if he doesn’t realize it himself. Sai would just feel such emotion when you spent too much time paying attention to someone else when he was right there. He didn’t quite grasp the idea of being jealous, but definitely doesn’t like feeling that emotion. So stop it, will you? You acting like that is messing with his head and he doesn’t like that at all.

A/n: I feel like this wasn’t as ‘yandere’ as it could’ve been but maybe it’s just because I really like Sai’s character lol

#tw yandere #yandere #yandere naruto shippuden #yandere sai #sai naruto #yandere naruto #Naruto #yandere x reader

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iobsessoverfictionalmen · 2 years

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Hunting Roses - Chapter 3

AN: This is a yandere Zemo fic. That means that it will have dark content. I do not endorse these relationships and behaviour in real life. This chapter contains spoilers for past Marvel movies and mentions of a panic attack.

The first thing that you heard when your feet touched the solid ground was a frightened yell of “BABA YAGA!”

“No Kurt,” a soothing, familiar voice replied, sounding more than a little exasperated as you opened your eyes, “that is (Name). She is a former student.”

You smiled at the Professor and waved at Kurt.

“You should come inside. We have a lot to discuss,” Professor Xavier stated as he turned his wheelchair around and wheeled himself back inside the school.

Even though the Professor had reassured Kurt that you weren’t Baba Yaga, whoever that was, you still caught the anxious and suspicious glances that Kurt sent in your direction as you walked inside the school.

Growing frustrated with Kurt’s attitude, you spoke, “Who exactly is Baba Yaga?”

Kurt looked embarrassed at being caught but answered you nonetheless, “Baba Yaga is a witch that eats children.” You were pretty sure that he was from Russia, judging by his accent. Kurt wasn’t finished with his explanation, “She come at night and she steal them. If she is hunting you, no lock or door will stop her.”

You raised your eyebrows even as a feeling of nostalgia bubbled up inside of you while you walked through the mansion, “You thought I was Baba Yaga because I appeared from nowhere in front of you right?”

“Da.” Kurt confirmed with a nod. You reached the Professor’s office at the same time and Kurt gestured for you to walk through the doorway first. You murmured a thank you and Kurt followed you.

As soon as you stepped into the office, Storm engulfed you in a hug. “We saw what you did in Sokovia.”

“Magneto and Mystique even dropped by to see if you’d come back,” Logan grunted, “got the feeling they were impressed with you.”

You shifted uneasily at the mention of Magneto once Storm released you. You had a nagging feeling that his visit was more to do with your guess about Wanda’s parentage than him dropping by because he was impressed with how you acted in Sokovia.

“Good to have you back (Name),” Jean greeted as she moved a chair over towards you.

“May I look inside your mind?” Professor Xavier inquired.

You had a feeling this was coming and you nodded as Jean moved to stand behind the Professor. Despite your own nerves, you sent her a reassuring smile once you realised that she would be temporarily projecting your memories into the minds of everybody in the office.

As you exhaled, you felt the Professor’s presence in your mind and you focused on the memory of Ross introducing the Accords and the discussion afterwards.

“Whoa, that was definitely not what I expected,” Scott breathed after the Professor withdrew from your mind.

“Took the words right outta my mouth, One Eye,” Logan agreed.

Jean was visibly trembling and the room was starting to shudder as well. You jumped out of the seat and got Scott’s attention with a quick gesture. Thankfully, his mind was thinking alongside the same path that yours was and he guided Jean across the room and sat her down in the chair.

“Those that do not learn from the past are condemned to repeat it,” the Professor quoted mournfully as Jean’s panic attack subsided.

“I couldn’t stay there and watch that kind of thing happen again,” you revealed, “and there’s also the slight problem of me being offered immunity when no other Avenger was offered that perk.”

“That worries me too,” Scott commented, “don’t take this the wrong way, (Name) but if I was the one handing out immunity for something like this, you wouldn’t be in my top three. Maybe in the top ten but I would only offer you immunity if I had no other choice.”

“I get what you’re saying” you stated before turning to the Professor, “what do you think? Do you agree with what Scott said?”

The Professor frowned thoughtfully, “I’m not sure that the Accords is the only thing going on here. Years ago when Doctor Bruce Banner was working alongside General Ross, a monster called Abomination was created on the General’s watch which forced the General and Doctor Banner to temporarily team up. As the Hulk, Doctor Banner fled after the battle but the General would have been subject to intense scrutiny as a result.”

“You think that someone with more power intervened in that situation and because of that Ross owed them a favour,” Logan suggested.

“I do.” Professor Xavier replied, “I think there are several layers to General Ross’ actions and reactions. I also think that the offer of immunity to (Name) only is a smaller part of a bigger plan. I don’t think that it was a coincidence that this offer of immunity was made at the same time that the Accords were introduced to them. Whichever way I look at this issue, I come to the same conclusion. The intent behind the Accords and the offer of immunity were meant to divide the Avengers. When I think about it, the reasons behind offering (Name) immunity range from benevolent to vengeful. Somehow, I don’t think the intent behind the offer was to harm (Name) but to harm the Avengers and ensure (Name)’s safety at the same time.”

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darthkruge · 3 years

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hello lovely!! i’ve been getting back into star wars lately and i’ve been loving your fics!! and i was wondering if i could make a request?? sort of like,, anakin but he doesn’t turn to the dark side type thing?? like he maybe confesses he’s scared to lose you and you help him through it?? maybe obi wan helps out?? honestly you can take it however you want :)) ty ty

anakin skywalker x reader || rewritten

summary || a rots fix it fic where i take many liberties and give anakin a support system + everyone gets better communication and we think about how it would perhaps end differently

warnings || hella canon divergence, angst w/ a happy ending, some violence (non graphic and not super described)

words || 5.1k (i am legit shocked)

a/n || hello and thank you!! i’m so glad you’ve been loving my fics! this fic was honestly super challenging for me and it ended up being the longest thing i’ve ever written. i made some big changes and lots of smaller ones, but each one was fully intentional. i really, really hope y’all like it <3

main masterlist || anakin masterlist

gif credit

-----

Anakin awoke with a start, chest heaving and covered in sweat. He was gripping the blankets as he tried to ground himself, frantically looking around as if to discern between reality and the horrid dreamscape his mind created. He whipped his head to the side, visibly relaxing as he saw you staring up at him, a confused look on your face.

You were no stranger to Anakin’s nightmares but this one seemed unlike any he’d ever had. You slept curled into him and, thus, his jolt caused one of your own. Unsure if he wanted your touch just yet, you reached out to him with the Force. Panic, loss, grief, fear, terror, insecurity. You looked into his eyes, watching as they slowly cleared and he registered your presence. He blinked quickly, trying to clear the tears from his vision and gave you a slight nod.

Reaching a tentative hand to his shoulder, you suppressed a gasp as you felt him shudder beneath you. You quietly whispered his name and placed a finger under his jaw, guiding his face to yours. You nodded back at him and opened your arms in silent invitation. He crawled into your embrace as you pulled him impossibly close to you, situating yourself against the headboard so you could better wrap yourself around his shaking body. Choked sobs erupted from his lips, each one tearing a hole in your heart. As he finally let himself cry with his face buried into your neck, you held him. By the Maker, you held him.

He didn’t want to speak just yet and you understood. You’ve always extended the same respect back to him as he gives to you. Tucked into you, Anakin’s fingers squeezed into your flesh, as if trying to remind himself you were solid. You placed a few kisses into his soft hair and onto his forehead, hands running up and down his arms and back. You physically pressed reminders of your love into his skin for hours and, somewhere in the midst of your embrace, he let himself fall into a state of limbo. Unawake, unasleep, umoving, yet feeling everything you had to offer.

----

When morning came, you reached out once again. The emotions from last night were still evident, just not as strong. Simultaneously, you allowed a small smile to come to you as you felt something new. Warmth, comfort, love. You ran your fingers through Anakin’s hair to pull him to consciousness, needing to see his eyes. Stars, his eyes. While they were absolutely gorgeous, they also always gave him away. You once told him that. “Only for you, my love.” He’d replied.

“Hi.” He croaked out, meeting your gaze. Your eyes fluttered closed for a second as you took a deep breath in relief. His eyes were clear. You didn’t know how long the shadows would be banished for, but as long as they weren’t constant, you had hope.

“Hi, baby.” You whispered, allowing yourself to give him another forehead kiss, made easy by your position that you’d somehow remained in throughout the night. You looked at him expectantly and knew he knew what you were asking.

“You… you died,” Anakin started. His eyes were already filling with tears. “It wasn’t clear. There was so much blood. And you kept begging me to help you. You screamed and screamed and screamed and you were in agony and…”

You took his hand in yours, squeezing his fingers in encouragement to go on.

“I never- I never came for you.” He spit the words out as if they were venomous and shook his head. You could hear the self-hatred in his words, the way he couldn’t grasp the concept of hurting you, ever, and yet how seriously he took this.

“Hey, hey. Stop, my love.” You said, hoping to pull him out of his spiral. “You would never harm me, Anakin. You would come for me, you always have. That was a horrible dream and I’m so sorry you had to experience it. But it was just a dream, Anakin. It’s not real.”

He pulled away from you as if he couldn’t stand to feel your gentle touch. “No, no, no! It-” His words were cut off by his uneven breathing, his pulse racing as he relived the nightmare. “It felt like the ones I had about my mother. It felt… prophetic. I’m scared, Y/N, I can’t lose you.”

You walked over to him, placing your hands on his cheeks and rubbing your thumbs over his cheekbones, hoping to calm him. “You won’t. It takes a lot to kill me, you know? Especially when I have you by my side.”

Anakin nodded but you could tell he was unconvinced.

“How about you talk to Obi-Wan about the dreams? He’s always helped you before.” You suggested.

While normally this would be unthinkable, as it would expose your relationship, Anakin felt himself pulled toward the choice. Inwardly, he admitted that he could definitely use a friend right now. And Obi-Wan had always stood by him. Somehow, he just knew that now would be no different.

------

Obi-Wan easily swung the door open with the Force before Anakin even had a chance to knock. He knew his former Padawan’s force signature like the back of his hand and had sensed his distress for days. Unbeknownst to Anakin, Obi-Wan had canceled his missions due to this, wanting to stay close for when Anakin eventually came to him for guidance.

Obi-Wan looked up from his paperwork as he realized Anakin refused to come closer. Huddled behind the door frame, a conflicted and fearful look on his face, Obi-Wan was struck by how similar Anakin looked to the little boy he’d found on Tatooine all those years ago. Many nights, young Anakin would come into Obi-Wan’s room, plagued with nightmares. Just as before, Obi-Wan never turned him away.

“Something’s troubling you.”

Anakin sighed, taking a tentative step forward. “You know Master L/N?”

Obi-Wan smiled knowingly, having a sense of where this is going. “Yes, of course. A brilliant strategist, much like yourself.”

“I…. I’m involved with them, Master.”

“Involved?” Obi-Wan replied, with a quirked eyebrow.

“Please don’t punish Y/N for this, I know the Council frowns upon relationships. If you need to report it, I understand. But just report me, say they had nothing to do with it. But before you do anything please, Master, listen to what I must tell you. I wouldn’t unless it was absolutely necessary.” Anakin pleaded.

“Anakin, I know.”

“Yeah, I mean it truly is necessary-”

Obi-Wan placed a comforting hand on the younger Jedi’s shoulder. “You misunderstand. I mean, I know.”

Anakin’s eyes widened with realization before confusion filtered into his gaze. “But we were so careful!”

“Not as much as you would think,” Obi-Wan said with a slight laugh.

“And you’re not upset?”

He sighed. “Being honest, I was a bit at first. Anakin, you know the rules and you can be so reckless at times! But how could I fault you for your own humanity? And I knew who you were when I met you. I was always aware of your compassion, your capacity for emotions.” Anakin nodded and smiled, but the faraway look in his eye never wavered.

Clearing his voice, Obi-Wan continued. “Are you alright, Anakin?”

“No.” The strength of the word shocked them both and caused Anakin to take a moment to compose himself. “They’re dying.”

Panic flashed through Obi-Wan’s expression. “They’re what? What happened? Was it a mission? Do the medics know? Is-”

“- No, nothing… nothing yet. But it will.” While Obi-Wan didn’t exactly understand, he could tell through Anakin’s tone that his former Padawan believed this with his entire soul.

“I’ve been having more nightmares.” Anakin said.

“Like the ones with your mother?”

Anakin nodded, his gaze muddled as his mind wove through every possibility on how to save you. Coming up with none, he looked up quickly, the lost confusion clear.

“It’s going to be alright, Anakin. We’re going to do this together.” Obi-Wan offered, trying to comfort his friend. When Anakin nodded this time, his expression had more hope in it. Obi-Wan returned the gesture, tipping his head as Anakin walked out. Before Anakin reached the door, Obi-Wan called his name.

“Talk to me if you feel troubled. About anything, my friend. And just know… it’s okay to feel afraid. And you’re no less a Jedi because you love them. At least, not in my eyes.” For the first time since he’d walked in the room, Anakin gave a true smile. His former Master inhaled deeply, realizing after hearing those words, Anakin looked more like himself than he had in a long while.

-----

A few hours and a Council meeting later, Anakin walked back into your chambers, closing the door with a huff. He wasn’t enraged, per se, but definitely conflicted. You approached him cautiously, heart falling when you saw those familiar clouds back in his eyes.

“Did Obi-Wan not take it well?”

Anakin shook his head. “It’s not… he was supportive. But the Council has assigned something to me and…” He trailed off and looked at you. Only then did you see his bloodshot, puffy eyes.

“What did they ask of you, Anakin?” You questioned, coming behind him to gently massage his tense shoulders.

“I’m needed to spy on the Chancellor. Apparently there’s a Sith Lord somewhere in the Order. They suspect him.” He tried to keep his voice strong, but you could see how torn apart he was by the inflection in his tone.

You took a breath and tried to process the information. “Will you do it?”

“I don’t know… if the Council tells me I must, then I must. But the Chancellor has only been good to me. I worry about betraying him but I don’t want to let down the Order. I’m not sure how to do this without causing someone harm.” He confessed.

“They shouldn’t have put you in this position, it’s unfair. And you don’t have to, Ani. I know it feels like you do but you don’t need to bend to each of the Council’s requests. Whatever the fallout, whatever you choose, please know that I’m with you. And so is Obi-Wan. Not that it fixes anything, but at the very least, you’ll always have us.”

Anakin turned around so he was facing you. “I don’t know what to do.” He whispered, voice laced with hopelessness.

“Trust yourself. You have a good heart, intelligence, and strong morals. They’ve never failed you before.”

He nodded before leaning into you and your arms instinctively wrapped around him. Your fingertips found their way to his hair, gently weaving through the golden strands.

“We’ll get through this, yeah?” While it was a question, you both knew you meant it as a statement.

“We’ll get through this.” Anakin echoed. He mumbled the words into your neck where he had buried his face. As if the words could seep into your skin. As if the hope could find its way to your heart and stay there, ever protected, ever true.

-----

The next day, Anakin found himself in Palpatine’s office. He was wary, guarded. It was evident by the look on his eyes, the way he took a moment before taking another step. It was his training as both a Jedi and a General that allowed him to do this. The careful complexity of planning every move.

“I heard the Council debating whether or not they should have made you a Master. It seems they do not trust you or value your talent as they should.” Palpatine’s words made Anakin freeze. Rationally, he knew this was wrong. At the very least, Obi-Wan trusts him and so do you. But there was a part of him that felt so validated by the Chancellor’s words that he wanted to hear more. To bask in them, in feeling wanted and appreciated. He hated himself for it.

“I… I’m not sure what you mean by this.” Anakin attempted not to give himself away any more than he already has.

“Well, they care about your potential. But they hold you back. They’ll never show you your true power, for they don’t want you to understand. They just wish to use it, no matter your own fate.”

“I feel cast aside. Like I don’t matter.” Anakin wasn’t even sure why he shared these words. Somehow, in feeling so praised, the doubts just bubbled their way to the surface. He felt like a child in these moments, so painfully fragile.

“You don’t. Not to them, Anakin. But with me I can teach you your power. I can teach you the ways of the Dark Side. I know of your fears, of those nightmares that plague you. I know about your secret marriage and how close you are to losing it all.”

Anakin froze, his heart hammering in his chest. His thoughts raced as he tried to piece together the truth from all the lies. The mentions of Darth Plagueis. The Dark Side of the Force.

“You’re the Sith Lord!” Anakin said, igniting his lightsaber and pointing it at the older man’s chest.

Palpatine bowed his head slightly, a small smile gracing his lips. “Well done, my boy.” Anakin felt sick as he noted the pride in his tone. And yet that aching part inside him still swelled, ever so slightly.

“Now, don’t do anything rash.” The Chancellor reasoned. “Only the Dark Side can save the one you love.”

Anakin wanted to do the right thing. He wished to be the one who could stand up and arrest Palpatine without a single ounce of guilt or regret. But as soon as Palpatine mentioned you, it’s like all his logic disappeared. He just wanted to save you, to not fail you as he’d failed his mother. But then he thought back to your words. “Strong morals.” And to his Master’s. “We’ll do this together.”

“I’m turning you into the Council.”

“Wouldn’t you prefer to kill me?”

“Yes.” Anakin’s remark was forceful and clipped with anger.

“Then do it. Give yourself over to your wrath.”

He felt himself burning with betrayal, with resentment toward both sides. Even so, he could still tell right from wrong, selfless from selfish. And whatever Palpatine was doing… it certainly did not have the will of the people in mind. Without so much as deigning him with another response, Anakin turned and walked out of the room.

“If you turn me in, you’ll never save them!” Anakin tried to will Palpatine’s voice out of his head as he ventured back to the Council chambers. When he arrived back, he decided to slightly alter his plans. While he knew he must face all of them eventually, he wanted to talk to Obi-Wan first. Perhaps his Master could give him guidance, like he did about your nightmares.

“General Skywalker… are you alright?” Anakin stumbled as he walked right into another figure, too caught up in his own head.

“I’m fine, Master Windu. Thank you- I’m sorry.” Mace looked at the younger Jedi with an unreadable expression. While there was much in his eyes, concern was definitely a part of it.

“Have you seen Master Kenobi?” Anakin said after a brief pause for composure.

“He’s supposed to leave for his next mission any moment now. If you hurry, you can probably still catch him.”

Anakin thanked Master Windu before taking off in a run. No matter how fast his legs carried him, he felt his mind was working even faster, the internal conflict brewing more intently by the second.

-----

Obi-Wan opened the door as soon as before Anakin could even knock. He looked at Anakin and gestured at a vacant chair, a silent invitation to sit. Anakin shook his head quickly. The younger Jedi’s eyes were scattered and conflicted, as if he’d been shaken to his very core.

“Palpatine is the Sith Lord.” The words came out rushed, yet clear. As if Anakin needed to get them out as quickly as he could but replayed them in his head until they were all he knew. The intensity showed Obi-Wan that there was no doubt in his friend’s mind.

Obi-Wan blinked. “Okay.” He stroked his beard, trying to find the words to say. “Are you alright?”

Anakin looked at Obi-Wan in confusion. Certainly there were more important questions his former Master would want to ask than that.

“I know you and the Chancellor were close. This can’t be easy for you. I just wanted to ask if you were alright.”

“I’m not sure.” Anakin said after some hesitation. “I don’t really know what to think… Palpatine is evil, right? But he believed in me when no one else did. He saw my potential, allowed me to confide in him. He told me he could show me how to save Y/N. Would someone evil do that?”

Obi-Wan’s eyes softened as he looked at the painfully conflicted young man in front of him. “Anakin… he was manipulating you. He was isolating you so you had no one to turn to but him. It was a tactic, a ploy. He doesn’t care for you.” Anakin looked so heartbroken that Obi-Wan knew Anakin believed him. “I’m so sorry.”

“But what about Y/N?” Anakin asked desperately.

Obi-Wan sighed. “Loving someone in the Order isn’t easy. Especially after everything you’ve gone through. And losing someone… it changes the way you love. You fear constantly, wondering when your love will evade you. When it will fall apart, like all the rest. But living like that, loving like that… it leaves no room for growth or peace. And that’s what relationships are for, aren’t they?” His voice was filled with compassion and wisdom. From experience, perhaps? Regardless of the reason, Anakin was reminded that someone did understand him. Despite the circumstances, he felt content. At least a bit.

“Is there any way to save them?”

“I’m not sure. Let’s focus on Palpatine for now, alright? And we’ll bring Master L/N with us so you know they’re safe.” Obi-Wan wished nothing more than having a set solution to save Y/N. But some things were even out of his grasp. “I know this must be impossible for you, Anakin. I truly am sorry.”

Anakin nodded. After all, it was true. If there was anything to describe the impending threat of losing another person he loved, impossible summed up the process. “I know. You’re doing all you can. Thank you, Master. And yes, I would like to bring them with us.”

Obi-Wan clasped a hand to Anakin’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze as they met each other with a smile. “I’ll send them a message right now.”

----

You gasped when you received Obi-Wan’s message with the details of the Supreme Chancellor’s truth. Your heart cried for Anakin, knowing the betrayal must be breaking him. All you could do was wish that with Obi-Wan’s help, the two of you could support Anakin until he felt like he could breathe again. And you had faith in him. You always had faith in him.

Grabbing your cloak, you jogged to Obi-Wan’s quarters. As soon as you opened the door, you ran to Anakin and hugged him to you, needing to feel his presence. Somehow, you knew he needed it, too.

“Ready?” Anakin and Obi-Wan gave you nods of confirmation and you gave a tentative smile. “Alright. Let’s do this.”

-----

Anakin entered Palpatine’s chambers first. For once, he felt sure of himself. He finally knew what he had to do. His gaze shifted to you, making sure you were alright. You placed a hand on his arm, rubbing your thumb up and down to reassure him. He inhaled. Exhaled. And ignited his saber.

“I knew you’d come back, Skywalker. I knew you’d join me.”

“Think again.” Obi-Wan responded as you and him walked into the chambers. Pure, unfiltered rage flickered through Palpatine’s eyes in response.

“Anakin, they’re trying to corrupt you. They’re trying to keep your power. Come with me, boy, and I’ll teach you all you wish to know. I’ll teach you how to save them.” He said, pointing a pale finger toward your face.

You let out a sharp breath as you suddenly understood Anakin’s conflict. Of course Palpatine was using you as a bargaining chip. Using Anakin’s fear of abandonment, of losing his loved ones against him. It was disgusting, even for a Sith.

“I… you can’t possibly know how to do that. It’s impossible!”

“Not on the Dark Side. Look… Obi-Wan has turned them against you. He’s the cause of this! I’m sure he didn’t even pose a solution to saving Y/N. It’s because he doesn’t care about you, not like I do.”

The shadows returned to Anakin’s eyes as his gaze switched between Obi-Wan and Palpatine. He couldn’t even bring himself to look at you, to see the pain in your eyes as he struggled with a choice that for others would be so simple. He hated himself for being weak but he truly couldn’t fathom losing you.

Obi-Wan stepped forward, backing Palpatine against the wall and pointing his lightsaber at Palpatine’s throat. Anakin stepped back, too frozen to move, and unconsciously placed himself between them and you.

“It’s over, Chancellor. Don’t make this more difficult than it already is.” Obi-Wan said.

Palpatine shot lightning from his hands, causing Obi-Wan to deflect the matter with his lightsaber, redirecting it to Palpatine himself. As Palpatine shook from the force of his own blast, he once again called to Anakin.

“If you let him kill me, dear boy, Y/N will die. If you don’t try to save them, you will be the cause of their death.”

Anakin’s eyes widened, those words hitting him right in the chest. He moved forward, pointing his lightsaber at Obi-Wan but refusing to make the final cut to end his life. Obi-Wan looked like he wanted to speak but the effort of holding of Palpatine’s lightning rendered him useless. It was Obi-Wan, after all. His former Master, his friend. The one person who he trusted with the secret of his marriage. He couldn’t kill him, right? He faltered, stepping slightly back.

“Ani,” You said, your voice calm as you tried to reason with him. “Ani if you do this, you can’t come back from it. I know you don’t want to lose me and if you kill Obi-Wan, you will, regardless of the fate of my life. You aren’t too far gone, yet. You haven’t done anything irredeemable. Remember who you are, my love.”

Anakin heard your words and looked at your face. You. He wanted to do good by you, to do good by all of them. He wanted to make his mother proud, make himself feel like leaving her for the Jedi Order meant something. And then his gaze filtered over to his friend. Obi-Wan stood tall against the force of Palpatine’s lightning, reminding Anakin of his friend’s strength. It was something Anakin wanted to emulate, too.

Understanding his choice, Anakin took a step forward to position the blade toward Palpatine’s chest. His hand was shaking, movements unsure, eyes glossed over with immeasurable pain. But before he could make contact, you swiftly moved in front of him and killed Palpatine instead. Obi-Wan was thrust backward as the lightning ceased, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath.

“Why would you do that?” Anakin asked as he looked at you.

“I didn’t want you to have to kill your friend. No matter what he turned out to be.” You said as you shifted on the balls of your feet. The weight of Palpatine’s death now weighed on your soul, as do those of every life you’ve ever ended. You could bear it and you knew Anakin was strong enough to do so, as well. You just didn’t want him to have to.

Anakin nodded and whispered a thank you back to you. You just smiled, the love for him clear in your expression. Anakin turned around, walking to his friend and extending a hand for him.

“I never doubted you.” Obi-Wan said simply as he met Anakin’s guilty eyes.

“I should have made the choice to believe you earlier. I shouldn’t have let him get to me. I’m sorry, Master.”

“Look at me, Anakin. We all struggle with our morals. We struggle and we’re unsure and we pray and hope to land on the right decision. And you did. You have nothing to apologize for.” Looking at your and Anakin’s arms around each other, Obi-Wan made one last decision. “How about the two of you retire for the evening? I’ll debrief with the Council, you’ve been through enough.”

Once again, Anakin was struck by the older Jedi’s strength and selflessness. He nodded, as did you, before he accompanied you back to your quarters.

----

You kept one arm around Anakin’s waist the entire way home, mirroring his that was around your shoulders. You couldn’t bear to separate, not after the events of the past few days. Seeing Anakin so torn up inside, it was eating away at you. Knowing you couldn’t save him was one of the hardest things you’ve ever had to deal with.

Now, Palpatine was finally gone. There was no more threat to the Jedi Order, the Force once again balanced. But both of you still understood the one solution that hadn't been found: how to save you. It made everything easier, that you chose to kill the Chancellor. Anakin refused to voice the doubts in his head, wondering if he actually would have gone through with it knowing he would lose his chance at saving you.

The air was melancholic surrounding you both. Heavy. Neither of you knew what to say, words failing in a moment that was so conflicted it almost overwhelmed you. But your heart warmed as you saw Anakin scamper in front of you to open and hold the door for you. You loved him so much, for doing the little things even in moments like these. It gave you hope.

You were okay with death, so long as it only affected you. When you joined the Jedi, you had to make your peace with it. But after you fell in love everything changed. You didn’t want Anakin to go through the pain of losing you. He’d been so open with you about, well, everything. Especially his past. He’d gone through so much, felt such raw pain and loss, you didn’t want to add to that.

Taking his hands in yours, you looked into his blue eyes.

“I don’t want you to die.” He whispered, the desperate, deflated tone making your heart break. “I won’t.” You wished to say, but you knew you couldn’t.

“I don’t want to die, either.” You chose these words instead, relying on their honesty.

“Palpatine could have saved you.” Anakin said after a beat.

You sighed. “You don’t know that.” You stated, knowing it wouldn’t change how he felt.

“Neither do you!”

“But at what cost? At the cost of losing your soul? Anakin, you would have had to join the Sith! That’s no longer you! You’re good and you couldn’t have saved me if you were there, don’t you see that?” You pleaded. You wished he would see your logic, the truth behind your words. How even though he thought otherwise, he made the right decision.

“What good is saving the Order if you won’t be a part of it?”

“What good is saving my life if I wouldn’t have you to live it with?” You countered.

Anakin let out an exhausted breath before pulling you into him, hugging you. The fighting was too much and, frankly, he didn’t want to argue. Not with you, not ever. You both let out a humorless chuckle as you leaned into each other.

“I love you.” His tone conveyed it all.

“I love you.” You replied, your voice muffled from being pressed into his robes.

“Can we sleep? I don’t want to face this right now. Can we just put this aside, if just for a moment? Can I lay with you and can you hold me and can we just have each other?” You questioned breathlessly.

“I would like nothing more, my love.” He smiled slightly and pressed a kiss to your head as he added the words of endearment, wanting you to understand he wasn’t upset with you. You already knew that, though. You were in love with Anakin Skywalker. Of course you’d argue from time to time. But at the end of the day, you were two hopelessly in love Jedi just trying to save each other.

Crawling into bed, sleep came for the both of you quickly. You were holding him and he was holding you, tangled together as you nestled his warm embrace. He tucked his face into your neck as you did so and savored the feel of you next to him. Safe.

Drifting off, Anakin tried to fight the pull of sleep, knowing he’d just suffer from another nightmare like he had every day since the first one. One where you’d die and he could do nothing to stop it. Amidst these tumultuous thoughts, his breathing evened, lulling him under.

You were in the grass, a flower crown atop your head. Anakin was leaning against a small house. It was quaint but beautiful. Small, not outwardly flashy, but full of love and meaning. Looking around, he smiled as he saw green vines crawling up the sides of the house, a garden of your favorite flowers out front. You always had a soft spot for that.

We are on Naboo, he realized. It was peaceful. It was the dream you always talked of together. Anakin’s breath caught as he felt the certainty of this dream. It felt just like his nightmares, except this one left him content. He didn’t want to entertain the thought for too long, afraid of jinxing it. But he knew it was prophetic. He wasn’t sure how he changed his fate, what exactly gave him this future. Something inside him just knew that when he wakes up the next morning, all will be okay. He felt infinitely lighter as he understood the threat was gone.

When you looked up and saw him, you raced toward him and jumped into his arms. Anakin stumbled but caught you, breathing in your scent as you kissed the side of his neck. As he held you, his thoughts slightly wandered. But he was grounded by your presence, reminding him that you were safe and he was okay. With you, he was finally, completely, home.

-----

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firefly-in-darkness · 3 years

Text

Lost and Found.

Pairing → Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Characters → Ciri, Jaskier, Priscilla, Yennefer (mentioned)

Summary → Geralt left with Yennefer for months.

Word Count → 5k

AFG Square Fill → Geralt @anyfandomgoesbingo

Warnings → 18+. Angst, heartache, jealousy, swearing, happy ending

Betas → @wonder-cole // all mistakes are my own.

A/N → Well this ended up being a longer story than I expected… I’ve only written for Geralt / The Witcher fandom once before and will have used content from the series, the books and the games as I have watched, read and played everything based on our ashen haired babe

The tavern was full of locals that had escaped from the cold night air. Farmworkers caked in mud with a distinct stench of sweat, merchants drowned their sorrows or celebrated their successes. A shadowy corner for the gamblers prayed for their Gwent decks to fare better than their opponents. There were even some families gathered by the large fire with bowls of broth and torn pieces of bread.

You had taken a seat at an empty table, slightly out of sight from the group you were meant to be with. You weren’t ready to be confronted with that situation until you had at least two tankards worth of ale in your system. In all fairness, you had debated about coming here in the first place, but it was Cirilla’s twenty-first birthday, and you would have felt awful if you hadn’t shown your face, even for the briefest of moments to wish her well.

It had absolutely nothing to do with avoiding a certain witcher, nothing at all.

A few years ago, Ciri marched into a small school on the outskirts of Rochdale, a quaint town in Velen, and stated that she wanted to continue her studies. Even if it was only for a few days a month. When her family visited. The matron was sceptical at first, not knowing who this child was or where she had come from but when Ciri produced a large coin purse, there were no qualms of fitting her into the roster of students.

You took Ciri under your wing the moment she’d stepped into your classroom. Ciri’s love for history and mythology strengthened the bond between you. Many evenings were spent talking about the world and all its wonder. And particularly, the monsters that lurked in the darkness.

In the space of a few weeks, you learnt a lot about Ciri and her adoptive parent. She confided in you about her hardships of trying to find Geralt. He was someone that her grandmother had told her to go to when Cintra fell to the Nilfgaardians. Your heart had clenched at the thought of such a sweet young girl wandering this world alone, with no family and in search of someone that she did not truly know existed.

It was one evening when Ciri unravelled the rope attached to her horse outside the school, waiting for Geralt to arrive, that you first met him. While you loaded the saddlebags with books, the sound of hoofs on the cobblestones caught your attention, and a majestic mare appeared from the side of the stone wall with a man astride her. He silently nodded to Ciri, no further expression or acknowledgement was made.

It looked as if there were no more than fifteen years between Geralt and Ciri, and he was not what you had expected. You had envisioned an older man, a farmer or merchant perhaps, with a family of his own. Not this handsome man, in a black cape, luscious white hair that curled over his shoulders.

He had caught you off guard, enamoured as you watched him dismount the horse. Your bodies almost touched in the tight space between you both. You stared at his chest, the wolf head medallion indicating his occupation. A Witcher. He towered over you; amber eyes glared down as you froze to the spot. Your legs felt like lead as you were held in his gaze. He should have frightened you, a slayer of monsters but, regardless of his stoic appearance, his presence provided a sense of calm.

The first grunt that he expelled went unheard, you snapped out of it when he did it a second time and shifted from his path so he could collect the books from Ciri. You could have sworn that, even though he seemed gruff, a small smirk twitched at your flustered state.

“See you next week Miss,” Ciri called after you as you lifted yourself into the saddle and gave her a small wave.

The awkwardness heated your cheeks and your mind spiralled at the way you’d reacted to Geralt. You had never frozen in front of a parent or guardian before. A cough brought you to your senses and a groan rumbled through you unexpectedly as you turned to him, eyes wide with embarrassment and a wish for the ground to swallow you whole.

You waited for Geralt to say something, but no words followed, and he seemed to be in just a flustered state as yourself, but you tried to shake that thought. There was no way a man like him would ever think of a teacher in any way other than a guardian should.

Ciri popped from around Geralt’s horse, a mischievous look on her face, “He’s trying to ask you if you’d like to join us for dinner or would like company back to your lodgings.”

You smiled to yourself at the fond memory, the sound of music and laughter lifted your spirit in the small tavern. Until you glanced to the side; the seat beside you was empty, and its presence was a reminder of what you had lost.

What had happened between you and Geralt was a friendship that had developed into secret sparks of lust. But your burning flame of love was extinguished the moment you saw him with Yennefer. After two years of tiptoeing around friendship and the late night trysts, you’d lost him to the most beautiful and powerful woman of the continent.

Your heart ached when you caught several glimpses of Geralt throughout the evening; either talking to the innkeeper or with Ciri and Jaskier as they attempted to get him to dance. He hadn’t seen you yet, you were sure of it, and you hadn’t made your presence known to anyone either. As much as you wanted to keep it that way, you would have to see Ciri at some point and that time came sooner than you expected as your eyes met across the tavern and she ran towards you.

In a flash of light, she teleported to your table and wrapped her arms around you. You would never get used to that. You returned the hug, clinging onto her as tightly as you could because it was likely this would be the last time, you would see her.

Nobody knew about your job offer at Oxenfurt Academy, that you were strongly considering the move to Redania, bags packed and ready at the door. It was what you needed, a fresh start. Plus, you knew that the matron was going to start looking at reducing the staff numbers after the drop in births in the town so you might as well get out before you were penniless.

You let Ciri go and caught another arrival to your side; Jaskier. His beaming smile was infectious, and he made you giggle as he dramatically bowed to you. Geralt was behind him, no expression on his face and not that you dared to look at him properly in fear for how much it would hurt you to do so.

Completely unaware of the awkward tension that was filling the space between you and your former secret lover, Jaskier instantly took a seat opposite you and tipped his tankard upside down, “Oh Geralt, it looks like it’s your round!”

Geralt grunted and left the three of you on your own. You relaxed ever so slightly as you watched him walk away and turned your attention to the birthday girl, woman.

“Oh, Y/N, it has been a while, three months at least!” Ciri said as she clasped your hands in hers.

“It has indeed, I heard from many merchants about your birthday celebrations, and I had to make sure at once that I was here to join in!” You beamed at her and shuffled along the wooden bench for her to join, “How long are you staying in town for this time?”

“I’m not sure, it depends on Geralt as always.” Ciri shrugged.

Priscilla, a beautiful blonde bard that caught Jaskier’s attention many moons ago in Novigrad, appeared at this side and pulled him away to perform a duet on the makeshift stage. In her excitement, Ciri jumped out and followed them. Even though they didn’t notice you had stayed behind, you didn’t mind and chuckled at their antics as they coaxed the patrons to gather around.

“Guess this is for you then.” Geralt slid into the seat opposite and gestured to the tankard, the foam spilling over the edge as you took it from him.

You were sure he could hear your heart thumping in your chest, choosing to give a small smile and a nod as you sipped the ale. The bittersweet melody filled the room, and it took you back to another time. To one where Geralt held you in his arms and filled you with so much hope for a future together.

It was your first visit to the Skellige Isles, and you loved every second that you spent with Crach an Craite and his clan, celebrating his daughter, Cerys, becoming Queen. You had been surprised when Geralt had asked you to accompany him, thinking that he’d ask Yennefer or Ciri to join him, but you didn’t let the moment pass you by; it was the first time you’d been on a ship and travelled the seas, let alone attended a coronation.

The banquet hall was full to the brim of Jarls and their clans from the many islands that formed Skellige. Enormous amounts of food were laid out on the tables and wine was on a never-ending supply. The revelry continued long into the night, you and Geralt clapping and laughing along to the guests dancing the Cèilidh.

You brought the goblet to your lips, now stained red from the wine, and sipped slowly as you felt the alcohol taking effect. Warmth filled your cheeks and you felt like you were floating with Geralt at your side, his arm securely around your waist.

“Drink up, because we are going up there any minute.” Geralt whispered in your ear.

Once more, Geralt had surprised you, thinking he’d never do such a thing and proving you wrong in an instant. Or, just, maybe, you shouldn’t believe everything that Yennefer tells you. He whisked you up into his arms and you skipped into the throng of bouncing and twirling dancers.

After a few stumbles and the odd miss turn, you found the rhythm and began to enjoy yourself. It was like you were in your own little world with Geralt. Your heart was beating so fast you thought it might burst from your chest. Together, you rounded the dance floor, twirling between other people and joining them for the group segments of the dance before returning to Geralt to skip through a human archway.

The music hit its end, you and Geralt both collapsing onto a bench, still giggling through the pain of being out of breath. He leant forward, his hand firmly on the nape of your neck, and pressed his lips to yours. You kissed him back with no inhibitions.

Your fingertips skimmed along your bottom lip, the memory of Geralt’s kiss still lingering there. After all this time, the memory had you brimming with hope and desire, or maybe it was the ale that was clouding your judgement. Without a second thought, you turned towards Geralt to find that he was looking straight at you, and he was too slow to hide his staring. You choked out a laugh as his eyes went wide and his cheeks tinged pink. Never in a million years did you think you’d see the witcher blush.

“I’m sorry but your face.” You giggled into your palm, swaying from side to side and clutching your belly. “So-sorry.”

“No, you’re not.” He tried to sound angry, but his smirk betrayed him.

Your fit of laughter tapered off and allowed you to regain your composure. The awkward silence filling the space between you once more as you resigned to not pursuing the conversation. A wave across the room caught your eye, Ciri beckoning you over but as you turned to stand, Geralt placed his hand atop yours on the table.

He hardly touched you, and you were staring at his hand, uncertain as to what he was doing. You lifted your head to find his softened gaze and immediately dropped back into your seat, nodding for him to say whatever it was that was on his mind.

“What were you thinking?” He whispered.

“When?” Your brow furrowed, the weight of Geralt’s hand growing as he relaxed.

“Just now. It looked like you were daydreaming.” He asked.

Your heart raced; you were silly to think he wouldn’t notice. He notices everything, and you couldn’t lie to him, he would catch you out, even if you were good at it. Stalling for time, you picked up your empty tankard and tried to catch the remaining droplets for some courage.

“If you really must know,” You paused, waiting for him to shut the conversation down but he didn’t and you felt the heat rising up your neck, “Erm, well, I was thinking about when we danced at Cerys’ ascension.”

Geralt smiled, a full beaming one, one that was like the moment he pulled away from your kiss all those years ago. It hit you with a force, and you couldn’t hold back all the feelings that you had packed away when he left with Yennefer not even a few months ago.

He didn’t say anything, just smiled and then sipped his ale. You weren’t sure what was happening and why he was looking at you like that. As if he was happy that you still thought of him fondly. Before you could question him, Ciri was at your side and tugging at your arm to join her, exclaiming that there would be dancing. You unfurled her hand from its grip and shook your head.

“I’m sorry Ciri, but I have to go now.” You gave her a sad smile as you stepped out from the table and pressed a light kiss to her cheek, “I hope you enjoy the rest of your celebrations little sparrow.”

Ciri’s face softened at the old nickname, “Thank you, do you need someone to walk you home.”

You chose to ignore the glare that Ciri was giving Geralt as you pulled the cloak around your shoulders. Geralt wouldn’t fall for her tricks but she was stubborn and from the huff and scrape of the chair, you knew she had gotten her way.

“Ready?” Geralt asked and you nodded, following him through the door into the night.

It was freezing, the air bit into the exposed skin of your cheeks and neck. Suddenly Geralt was in front of you, pulling the hood over your head and bringing it tighter around you.

“There’s a storm coming, you don’t want to catch a cold.” He explained.

You were dumbfounded at his care and the way he weaved an arm across your shoulders, guiding you back to your cottage. Unable to do or say anything more than put one foot in front of the other, or thereabouts, in your slightly merry state.

Geralt was warm, and smelt of ale, sandalwood, and leather. You were unable to stop yourself from sinking further into his hold, relishing the moment. Even if it meant that your heart would shatter once you reached your home, and the loss of his warmth would bring tears.

Silence remained between you, yet this time it was comfortable. It was as if this is where you were meant to be; walking side by side in a small town, surrounded by the multitude of stars and nothing but the beating of your hearts.

The cobbled path wound around various shops and cottages, culminating in the town square. It was empty, a distinct comparison to when you visited earlier in the morning to see if the visiting merchants had anything new or different to sell.

“Would you have liked to dance?” Geralt whispered, if the square was alive with the traders and merchants, you wouldn’t have heard him, but it was clear in the open air.

“I’m sorry?” You uncurled from his hold and stood in front of him, looking up at his glowing eyes.

“Back there, did I stop you?” He asked with a neutral expression that you had long ago realised was a mask to hide his true feelings.

“No,” you shook your head and wrapped your arms around yourself, “I did think it was time to leave though.”

“Because you were daydreaming about me?” Geralt asked, a lopsided smile on his lips as you continued down the path.

“Yes, because I was getting caught up in our past.” You ducked away from his sight, “I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

“I was thinking about the same thing, well more specifically what happened afterwards.” Geralt stopped at the gate to your cottage, “And I think you were too.”

You looked up at him, knowing you couldn’t lie, with a sad smile “You know I was Geralt. Don’t play games with your thinking. Thank you for walking me home.”

Geralt’s words rushed out, “Can I come in?”

Once again, Geralt was full of surprises, he’d never invited himself round and usually, he would just enter without question. Then you thought of how different things were now that you had gone your separate ways. When he chose to be with her.

“What would Yennefer think?” You asked, the jealousy not missing from your tone no matter how hard you tried to be nonchalant.

“Yennefer is not my master.” He grunted, “Why are we even talking about her?”

“Because you left with her. That day.” You bit down on your lip in a hope of tears not making an appearance. “I didn’t realise you had feelings for her until Jaskier mentioned the djinn and the wish you granted.”

“That fuckin’ bard.” He growled, “I do not have feelings for Yennefer, my wish was about you, but it didn’t work. You didn’t want me near you.”

You recoiled at his tone, “excuse me? You’re the one that left in a carriage to god knows where for months without a single word.”

“I left a letter.” Geralt pushed through the cottage door and gestured his hands towards the candles dotted around the cottage, causing a flame to ignite at their wicks.

You followed him into your bedroom and watched as he pulled at the drawer that you’d put aside for him many moons ago, and atop his tunics was a piece of folded paper. You stared at the letter, now in Geralt’s hand.

It had been too painful to open the drawer, you hadn’t been in it since he left. It had taunted you enough just by being there, a reminder of you welcoming him into your home. Let alone being able to feel the fabric or take in his scent, it would have filled your heart with more pain.

“As it’s still in the drawer, I’m guessing you didn’t find it.” Geralt sighed, placing it down on the furniture and leaning back against, folding his arms. “And that explains why you didn’t turn up the other night.”

“I didn’t, why would I have gone in there?” You whispered as you began preparing the fireplace, anything to keep you busy.

He mumbled, “Because you sleep in my tunics when I’m away.”

“Okay, and what about the other night?” You questioned as the flames caught on the logs, “Where was I supposed to meet you?

At the lack of response, you turned to look at Geralt and he was scowling at something behind you, the trunk at the door and a collection of bags. You watched him taking in the rest of your home. There were no ornaments or trinkets on the walls, no books on the shelves or stacks of parchment dotted around. It was all packed away, ready for you to leave.

“Are you going somewhere?” He asked, the neutral appearance back on his features.

“Yes.” you nodded.

“For how long?” His arms dropped from their hold on his chest.

“For as long as I have a job.” You stated.

“Where?” Geralt was quiet and looking down at the floor.

“Oxenfurt Academy.”

His head snapped up, amber eyes glinting in the dim light of your cottage, “Why are you going to Redania?”

“Because I have nothing else here.” You shrugged as a tear fell from your cheek, you knew that not saying goodbye was hard, but this seemed a lot harder.

“What about Ciri? Or Jaskier? Priscilla?” Geralt asked, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he waited for your answer.

“I’m sure I’ll see them again. Ciri and I will likely cross paths if she pursues her education, and I’m sure she’d track me down the second she finds out about me leaving. I already made a promise to Jaskier that I’d see Priscilla’s shows wherever I am.” Before Geralt interrupted, you sat on the edge of your bed and continued, “He doesn’t know, it was an old promise, and you know what I’m like when it comes to those.”

Geralt silently moved across the room and sat beside you, taking your hand in his, “What about me?”

You shook your head, “I thought you didn’t want me anymore.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?” Geralt looked at you, a softness in his eyes, “So, Oxenfurt Academy?”

You were unable to look at him, ashamed of deciding to leave in haste and without talking to him about it at least once, “Yes, I leave in a couple of weeks.”

“I’ll follow you anywhere.” He promised and before you could counter him, he continued, “I asked you to meet me at the docks because I wanted to give you this.”

Geralt opened a pouch attached to his hip and pulled out a delicate silver chain. He held it out so you could see the side profile of a wolf’s head with an amber gem for the eye. You weren’t sure what to say as you marvelled at the beautiful gift, lifting your hair away from your neck for Geralt to clip it in place.

“Thank you, it’s beautiful.” You whispered.

Your fingers glided along the chain and you held the wolf away from your chest, twisting it in the glow of the candles. A stray tear fell down your cheek but Geralt caught it with the pad of his thumb. You leant into his warm touch, his calloused palm a welcome feeling that you had long missed. Geralt lifted your face and pressed his forehead to yours before he softly kissed you.

The kiss was tentative at first, light pecks making way for harder pushes and pulls, swipes of tongue until your arms were wrapped around Geralt’s neck. You adjusted until you were straddling his lap. Geralt pulled at the lacing of your tunic until it loosened around your shoulders and exposed more of your chest.

He brought his lips to yours again, the kiss was more heated than before. Tongues swiped and teeth nibbled along each other’s lips with him pulling your body into a tight hold, his erection hardening and pushing against your core.

At the spark of pleasure, you pulled away in shock and lifted your body from him. You held the tunic in place and backed away, sitting further down the bed from him, his head hanging down as you tried to make sense of why you pulled away and were still protecting yourself when it was clear that he wanted you.

“I’m sorry Geralt, I- for the longest time, I thought you were with Yennefer, I-” You sobbed, hand cupping your mouth as you let the emotions flow freely.

You felt the bed dip and you turned to find Geralt laying back against the pillows, an arm open in waiting. You scooted up the bed and curled into his side, sinking into his warmth, and being soothed by the fingertips that swirled up and down your arm in nonsensical patterns.

“As I said before, I will follow you anywhere that you go.” He murmured and pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

With the tears no longer falling, you tipped your head up to look at Geralt to find his eyes closed. You rested your head onto his shoulder and began to trace the shape of the medallion on his chest, sleep finally taking you to the world of dreams as raindrops began to patter on the roof.

A new home: it was on a quiet street quite close to Oxenfurt academy, only a twenty-minute stroll until you were in the hustle and bustle of the city. It was a lot busier than you had prepared for, especially compared to your small town of Rochdale.

Your colleagues had told you that you’d been lucky to find the lodgings in the area and for such a good rental rate too. The ground floor consisted of a kitchen and seating area and the upstairs hosted two bedrooms. It was just the right size for you, but you hadn’t fully unpacked yet. Satchels half-emptied and trunks open but still full to the brim with trinkets and books.

You were settled in the chair by the fireplace, the warm embers glowing as you read the book in your lap. It wasn’t late but your eyes were feeling heavy after the most hectic month of moving to the city and settling into your new role at the academy.

A knock at the door made you jump; the book fell to the floor with a thud. Tentatively, you approached the entrance to your home and glanced through the frosted pane in the wooden door but could only make out two figures. Ciri and Geralt stood before you, your mouth dropped agape as their arrival was unexpected and you weren’t sure what to say.

“Surprise! I’ve enrolled at Oxenfurt Academy.” Ciri laughed and wrapped her arms around you.

You held her close and rested your chin on her shoulder, looking over at Geralt, shock and happiness coursing through you. In the dim light of the torches that lined the street, his mouth twitched into a smirk. Your heart fluttered and you couldn’t wait to have his arms wrapped around you once more.

“I cannot believe it; I wish you’d let me know beforehand so I could have prepared for your visit.” You beckoned them into the warmth of your new lodgings, picked up the fallen book and attempted to tidy away the pots and pans on the table.

“Oh, come on Y/N, it’s only us, I’ll start making a pot of tea.” Ciri headed over to the stove and filled the kettle.

Geralt entered your home, he filled the space with his height and broad shoulders, the atmosphere was tense, and you weren’t sure what to do. It had been a while since you last spoke to him; the morning after he returned and discovered you were moving away.

“Hello,” you squeaked, unable to keep the excitement from your tone, “erm- how long are you staying? Where are you staying?”

“Ciri mentioned you had spare beds.” Geralt murmured. “If that’s okay with you?”

“Yes, of course, right this way.” The steps creaked underfoot as you both ascended the staircase, and your nerves began to bubble as you felt his eyes on your back. You opened the first door to the spare room with two single frames and a small chest of drawers, “sorry it’s not much. My bedroom is just down the hall and there is a bath in there.”

Geralt placed a couple of satchels on the bed and removed his armoured plate. You couldn’t help the way you stared at him in the tunic and the dark hair across the exposed part of his chest. He pulled out a small bag from a satchel pocket and turned back to you with a small smile.

“I-We brought your favourite biscuits from Rochdale.”

The stutter did not go unnoticed, but you did not react to it, instead offered a smile and a whispered thank you as Geralt placed the bag into your outstretched hand. Instantly, you opened it and raised it to your face to inhale the sweet scent of the treat.

“This will go lovely with the tea, we should-.” You gestured back to the stairs and spun on your heel.

“Wait,” Geralt huffed and caught the crook of your arm to turn you to face him, “I should have done something else when you answered the door.”

A frown etched on your features until his hand cupped your cheek and you caught the way his amber eyes glowed as they flicked down to your lips. Your mouth parted and your eyes fluttered closed as you slowly edged towards one another, meeting in the middle in a soft kiss.

Your body tingled in Geralt’s hold, as your lips melted into his chapped ones. Knees grew weak as he invaded all your senses. It was as if he knew and wrapped an arm around your waist, holding you flush to his hard chest.

Both of you pulled away for air, his fiery gaze drank you in and sent a wave of pleasure through your body. He claimed your mouth once more with hunger, your hands carded through his ashen locks, and you tugged him closer still. Geralt lifted you into his arms and carried you to your bedroom.

Too consumed in your reunion and that Geralt had kept his promise to follow you anywhere, neither of you heard the door close behind Ciri’s hasty exit.

The tea and biscuits were long forgotten.

Everything Tag List: @kitkatd7 / @fandomfic-galore / @writerwrites / @thefridgeismybestie / @wedonttalkaboutitenough / @courtneychicken / @persephonesinfernos / @miraclesoflove / @lizzarooni / @queenoftheunderdark

#Geralt x Reader #Geralt of Rivia x Reader #Geralt #Geralt Fic #Geralt of Rivia #Geralt of Rivia Fic #Geralt Fanfic #Geralt Fanfiction #The Witcher #The Witcher Fic #The Witcher Fanfic #The Witcher Fanfiction

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cow-smells · 3 years

Text

Eli/Hawk x Reader: Changes

Request: Can you do a Hawk x reader where they are dating since a long time and y/n tries to handle with his change from Eli to Hawk? @sophiahardy912

A/N: Thought I’d write all cutesy lovey dovey fluffy smutty things but then this angst came out? sorry if i failed you idk what happened here

Words: 2054

Warning: A few cuss words

----

Eli wasn't... Eli anymore.

Not just in a metaphorical way – he was Hawk now, inside and out. At first it was a refreshing change – you loved Eli back when he was introverted and lacking in confidence, but now Eli loved himself, and that was surely better.

Confidence is a good thing. Right?

You remembered the day he texted you 'Dig it?' attached to a photo of him – classic brunette gone, dyed down and gelled up to a Blue Mohawk.

The phrase 'dig it' by itself was previously foreign to the boy, so of course the new bold hairstyle was a big shock for you. Not a bad one, just unexpected. Even more unexpected was the new attitude that came with it.

When Eli walked up to you the next day at school, he adopted a strut that came with his new hair and attire. You almost didn't recognize him without one of the comfy sweaters he previously would wear, the ones you would steal borrow when you'd go over to his on date night.

It had been a while since you had one of those date nights – Eli wasn't fond of spending too much time in public, always feeling like people were staring at his lip – so you'd often spend the night at his house, watching some horror movie late in to the night, laughing together at cheap, unconvincing productions. Or, even better – clinging to him when a movie really was scary, finding an excuse to casually entwine yourself around him. You loved how he would turn red every time, as though you haven't been together for a long time now.

The last date night you two had was... unusual, yet exciting all the same.

Eli had been Hawk for a while now, and things were taking a turn for the worse. At first it was nice – Eli would link your pinkie fingers together under the table at lunch, Hawk would put his arm around you as you two walked down the hallways between classes. Eli cowered when anyone would so much as look at him; Hawk would shut down anyone who tried to start with him.

You didn't mind it, so to speak, when he got in to a fight with his former bullies. You were worried, of course, but Hawk knew how to handle himself. He beat the shit out of them and after years of Kyler and co taunting him, it felt like fair karma at play. You were actually proud. Hawk came home on cloud nine that day and you were all for being his cheerleader; it ended up being a night of great celebrations.

However, these days he was getting exceedingly violent with anyone who would look at him wrong. It was one thing paying back those who wronged him, but the whole karate thing was getting out of hand; it came to a red line for you once you saw his treatment of Demetri, the only one other than you and Miguel who accepted him far before he accepted himself.

You two had gotten in to a serious argument, Hawk stating that Demetri's treatment is his own doing for being such a nerd, you telling him to grow up.

A couple of days went by with you giving him the silent treatment. Hawk thought he'd just slide in by you the next day at lunch, kiss you and everything would be fine – but you weren't having it. If he didn't mind throwing Demetri under the bus so quickly, how long until that was you instead?

Not talking to Eli proved harder to do than you thought. After so long together it was strange, suddenly having this wall between you two. It had only been a couple of days of you riding the bus to school rather than on his motorcycle with him and you already felt an insistent pit in your stomach that refused to go away, no matter how hard you tried to distract yourself with schoolwork and your other friends.

So unsurprisingly, when Hawk texted you asking you to meet him at an unfamiliar address, you agreed.

It was dark out – the only people you saw around the road you were going down were a couple of shady looking dudes, only obviously under the influence.

You checked your phone again to make sure you were going the right way.

“You made it!”

Eli's voice startled you, making you look up from your phone. Illuminated by the blue florescent lights from the shop he stood outside of, he seemed... relieved.

“Yeah,” you answered simply, your eagerness to make up disapparating in to an unconfident hesitation. “what are we doing out here?”

“Look,” Hawk took one of your hands in his. “I don't wanna lose you. And if that means being nicer to Demetri or whoever of those dorks, whatever. I can live with that. But not without you.”

You hated how he knew exactly what to say, even if it wasn't prefect. It was enough.

“You didn't answer,” you said, allowing a flirtatious tone to creep up. “What are we doing here?”

Eli smiled, a smile that was more Hawk than Eli, and pulled you in to the shop after him, knowing he was well on his way to winning you over.

“This is my guy, Rico,” Hawk introduced, fist bumping the older man. Between the familiar name, funny looking chair and sketches on the walls, you knew exactly where you were and what was about to happen.

“Eli?” you tentatively called as Hawk guestued for you to sit in a chair behind the funky-looking one. Rico adjusted said chair and motioned for Hawk to come over. Eli sat on the chair, his back to you.

“You sure about this?” Rico asked, preparing ink on a side table. “Sure,” Hawk answered confidently.

Naturally, your curiosity got you up on your feet towards Eli's other side – of course you wanted to know what he was getting inked – but Hawk quickly protested.

“Stay over there!” he scolded playfully. “It's a surprise.”

The machine started buzzing and even though it wasn't you who was getting anything done, adrenaline started rushing, making you a giddy mess, forgetting all about your previous fight. As needle pierced skin, you spent the time waiting making assumptions over what Hawk was getting on him – at first you guessed the Cobra Kai snake, later guessing Sensei Lawrence in a heart – a suggestion that made Eli laugh particularly hard, in that way that he used to laugh when it was just the two of you (this earned a scolding from Rico, who couldn't get the work done if his canvas was jittering about).

It must have been twenty minutes at best before Hawk rose from the chair and turned to you, gesturing to the new piece over his heart – a heart with your name in it.

Was it possible to have your heart sink and jump simultaneously? On the one hand, you were realistic, and there would probably come a day where he'd regret this – a thought that made you sick. On the other hand, it was the most romantic thing you've ever experienced, and it was unlikely for anyone else to ever top that.

What was done was done, so you shoved aside any negativity and allowed yourself to revel in the love you felt, showering Hawk with kisses that quickly turned in to a deep, longing kiss – until Rico politely suggested you take the show elsewhere.

Apparently “being nicer to Demetri” meant ignoring him altogether, besides some threatening looks. It wasn't ideal, but it was better than the alternative, so you let go of it despite it seeming like Hawk was constantly on the edge.

You were ready for another date night – the first since the tattoo parlor – ready to get away from school and its drama, just to spend some quality time with your boyfriend.

Now that he wasn't shy anymore, he suggested going to see a film in an actual movie theatre, which was exactly what you were doing.

The two of you split up – you needed to go to the bathroom so Hawk stood in line for tickets. By the time you had come out you had lost sight of your boyfriend – the crowd around the ticket stalls had suddenly increased.

“You looking for someone?” a male voice asked. Turning around, a couple of guys you didn't know were approaching you. “Think you'd have more fun with us.”

Just as they reached you, a hand grabbed your arm. You were relieved to turn and see Eli – but he wasn't even looking at you. His eyes were locked with one of the guys – you could feel the tension in the air.

“Eli, no,” you whispered firmly. His grip on you tightened, moving you aside – but you weren't going to stand for it. You stepped in front of him, grabbing hold of him as he did to you. “You start something, I walk.” your voice was low, not wanting those guys to hear, but serious enough to make Hawk understand you weren't playing around.

With a grunt, he looked down at you, took your hand and walked away.

You optimistically thought the worst was blown over.

You and Hawk were waiting outside the theatre to be let in, chatting away when Hawk stopped you mid sentence with a kiss.

Another pleasant surprise about Eli's newfound confidence was how willing he was to show affection to you publicly, while before you two could pass off as acquaintances at best.

It was rather random but you accepted the kiss – even when he deepened it, getting closer to you, pulling you closer to him.

His hands started sliding lower.

It wasn't anything you haven't done in the privacy of your bedrooms, but to get that intimate in public, in broad daylight – it was too much for your liking.

“Eli -” you called, pushing away from him. He didn't allow it.

Pulling your hips to his with one hand on your bum, his other went up to hold your chin, tilting it back to grant him access. He managed to hold you for a moment before you mustered up the power to push him a few steps away from you.

Hawk was visually surprised – whether because of you or himself, you were unsure.

“What the fuck was that?” you asked, not bothering to keep your voice down this time.

Despite trying so hard to become this new person, new Eli still had old Eli's tells – and a quick glance he threw aside told you everything you needed to know.

Following his line of sight, the two guys from earlier stood there, watching the scene unfold.

“So that's what this is about?” you huffed. “some territory marking thing?”

Hawk struggled to gather his words, his bottom lip bobbing wordlessly a couple of times before he spoke. “Look, you didn't want me to take care of it out there, so-”

“So you do whatever you want with me? Like I'm nothing?”

“Y/n, you know it's not like that-”

“So what is it like?”

When Hawk didn't immediately respond, you turned on your heel to the exit. Hawk followed you outside.

“Come on, Y/n, you know I'd never hurt you!”

“You just did!” you yelled back. “you... I don't know you anymore, and I say that in the worst way.”

“What,” Hawk huffed, “you want me to go back to being a pansy? 'Cause that's not going to happen.”

“You know what's the worst out of all this?” you asked, coming to face Hawk. “at first I thought it was cool, you being all tough. Seeing Kyler become afraid of you. I thought it was great. But now... Now I'm afraid of you.”

Hawk frowned, the realization dawning upon him. “C'mon...” he lifted his shirt to show the heart tattoo dedicated to you. “Doesn't this mean anything to you?”

“Make it mean something.” you replied with a heavy heart, taking a step back and left, leaving Hawk standing alone in the parking lot.

#cobra kai #cobra kai imagine #demetri cobra kai #hawk cobra kai #eli hawk moskowitz #eli moskowitz #cobra kai hawk #hawk imagine #cobra kai x reader #eli moskowitz x reader #eli hawk moskowitz imagine #eli moskowitz/reader #eli moskowitz imagine

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marauderundercover · 3 years

Text

Taking Chances Chapter 9: Heroes and Villains (Discovery)

AO3

It wasn’t the toughest akuma that they had ever faced. But even with both of them fighting, it took too long. So long that her family was sure to be suspicious. Despite the fact that she just wanted to portal back to the hotel where there would be far fewer questions, she knew she didn’t have that luxury.

“Kaalki, if I ask to go to an empty room in the manor, can you do that? I don’t wanna pop out of nowhere. I’m already dreading the questions we’re gonna get about Adrien disappearing.” Marinette asks the kwami, rolling her eyes at Adrien’s annoyed huff.

“If you had just taken me with you to begin with-”

“To the bathroom? Adrien, I know you’re not the best with social situations but even you know that’s weird, right? And besides, there’s no way Dick would’ve let you follow me. He’s hovered every time we’ve been alone.” Marinette reminds him, crossing her arms.

“We were bonding over humor!” Adrien argues.

“Sure! But I still-”

“Ladybug, I can do it. As entertaining as all of this is, the Wayne family should not be kept waiting.” Kaalki reminds her, a small smirk on their face. Marinette’s eye twitches at the reminder of her family. Okay. One problem at a time.

“Okay. I’m trusting you. Tikki, Kaalki unify. Voyage!” Marinette calls, grabbing Adrien’s hand and stepping through the portal. She glances around the room, frowning as she looks at everything. None of it made sense. It looked kind of what she would imagine from-

“Is this the Batcave?” Adrien asks, mouth wide in shock as he slowly turns in a circle.

“Kaalki, dismount.” Marinette says, glaring at the kwami the second they’re visible again. “Care to explain what’s going on?”

“You asked to go to an empty room in the manor. I simply took you to the most famous room. It truly is a crime that you’ve never been in here before.” Kaalki hums, zipping around the space.

“I’ve only been to the manor twice! And this is in the manor? Does Batman work for Mr. Wayne?” She asks, desperately trying to figure out the situation.

“LB, what if he is Batman?” Adrien asks, making her pale.

“He’d figure me out so quickly. Oh god, what are we gonna do? He’s gonna kick me out of the family and I was just starting to be able to breathe around them and think about the fact that they are my family and now I’m going to go back to being an only child and even though Dick can be annoying and I haven’t really talked a lot to the others I really wanted to get to know them and now I’ll never get the chance because I’m a failed superhero who can’t even defeat one measly villain and he’s gonna take away my Miraculous and then he’s gonna be Ladybug but then it’ll be weird and he’ll hate me even more because red is not his color but he’ll be stuck in red because that’s what Paris is used to for the Ladybug costume and we don’t want them to go into shock when I’m replaced and-”

“Who the fuck are you?” A voice asks, clearly angry. Marinette winces and turns, eyes wide when she notices the actual (REAL) gun in Jason’s hands.

“We’re not meant to be here. There was a mistake with transportation and-” Marinette starts, stumbling over her words as she tries not to panic even more.

“Likely story. Don’t fucking move. I’m calling Batman.” Jason says, glaring at the two before pulling out his phone. “Hey B, there’s a situation in the cave. Intruders. No, I have no fucking clue how they got in here. Yeah, there’s two of them. No, no it’s not them. Yeah well I kinda can’t fucking interrogate them by myself now can I?” There’s a pause. “Yeah no, not wearing that. Yeah thanks for that. Well I didn’t- Just get over here.”

“So is Batman coming?” Adrien asks, the excitement clear on his face. Marinette looks at him in annoyance. She loved the boy but sometimes, he had no sense of self preservation.

“Yeah, Batman’s coming. Why the fuck are you here?” Jason asks, the angry look on his face not matching the personality she had seen every other time she’d seen him.

“Why are we here? Why are you here?” Adrien asks, poking. Jason’s eyes narrow and his glare gets darker.

“We’re here to ask Batman for help with a situation.” Marinette blurts, shifting so that she’s slightly in front of Adrien since he kept saying things that were pissing Jason off. Jason frowns.

“Why do you need help from Batman?” He asks.

“Ladybug, Chat Noir. I’ll admit I didn’t expect to see either of you here.” A gruff voice states, walking towards them. Marinette’s eyes widen. Holy vigilante, that's Batman. And he’s not looking at her as a civilian who could be scared. Nope. Now he’s looking at her as a fellow hero and possible intruder. Oh this should be fun.

“Monsieur Batman. I apologize for our intrusion. I meant to bring us to Gotham, to speak with you, but I must have messed up. I’m truly sorry for appearing in your home like this.” She says, extending her hand for a handshake. Batman glances down at her hand, seeming to hesitate for a moment before reaching out and shaking her hand.

“As long as you are here, we might as well talk about the Paris situation. It has recently come to my attention and I’m concerned about the possibility of death in your city.” Batman says, getting straight to business.

“I’m sorry, what the actual fuck is happening in Paris? And why haven’t I heard anything about it? Actually, why hasn’t anyone heard about a situation in Paris?” Jason asks, actually glaring at Batman.

“It doesn’t concern you, Mr. Todd. You may leave now. We’ll have our meeting another time.” Batman says, his tone firm.

“The hell it doesn’t. My baby sister lives in Paris, and I’d be damned if I left her alone in some kind of hellscape where apparently there’s the possibility of a lot of death. Now can someone tell me what is going on in Paris?” Jason yells, his eyes blazing as he glares at Batman. Marinette blinks at her brother, shocked at his reaction. Did he really care that much?

“It’d probably be easier to show you. Do you mind?” Adrien asks, gesturing to the computer. Batman stiffens.

“I’ll pull it up. I’m sure you’re referring to the videos of previous fights. I have them in a folder.” He says, walking over and hitting several buttons. Before long, a video is pulled up on the gigantic screen. A video of the fight against Syren. Of course he had to choose one of the most dangerous akumas. Instead of watching the screen, Marinette watches her brother’s reactions. Flinching slightly as she hears his knuckles crack from how tightly he’s clenching his fists.

“How long has this been going on?” He asks simply, his voice much darker than she’d ever heard.

“Almost two years.” Marinette responds, frowning at him. She hadn’t known him long, and she knew it would be stupid as Ladybug, but Marinette wanted to hug her older brother. He looked pissed, sure, but underneath the initial anger, she could see the worry. And how unsure he was. She couldn’t be certain that all of the worry was aimed at her or the Paris situation, but she knew at least some of it was. And she felt bad for making him worry like that.

“And where has the Justice League been?” He asks Batman, almost snarling.

“There’s no lasting damage.” Marinette says. “Even if the Justice League had shown up, they couldn’t have done anything that Chat or I couldn’t. My power is to erase the damage, and death, done during our battles. So Monsieur Batman, you don’t have to worry about the possible death either. I assure you both, it’s fine. We could use assistance to figure out Hawkmoth’s identity though.” Marinette says, trying to move the subject away from death and injury and the rougher parts of akuma battles.

“I don’t give a damn if the damage isn’t lasting. You remember, right?” Jason asks. Marinette hesitates.

“Well, yes. But the akumatized victims don’t and-”

“No. See, I don’t care about the akumatized victims right now either. I care about the amount of death and destruction and pain my sister has had to deal with alone. What about the people who die, Ladybug? Do they remember that they died? Do they wake up after drowning or burning or being crushed to death and just be told to be thankful that it wasn’t permanent? Or do they get to forget too?” Jason asks through clenched teeth. Marinette stops, thinking of all the times buildings have fallen on her. The times she's watched friends die. The time Tikki had to take the earrings and Marinette woke up after the battle, still able to feel the metal in her chest. The time she saw a world draped in white, only one other person left in the entire world. She thinks of these times, and she sighs.

"No. They don't forget." She says, biting back the wave of emotion threatening to push her under. She can't. She has to focus. She can't break right now.

"Then I don't care about the rest of Paris. What are you doing to protect Marinette Dupain Cheng?" He asks, crossing his arms and staring her down. She blinks. She gets that he's worried, as her brother, but why would they have special protection for one person? She's about to ask when Batman speaks up instead.

"No worries, Mr. Todd. My team and I have been made aware and have prepared a security detail for Miss Dupain Cheng once she returns to Paris." Batman says simply. Marinette's eyes widen. No. Oh no. No, no, no, she can't be watched! How's she supposed to protect Paris if an American superhero and his team are stalking her to make sure she's safe?

"As a former Miraculous wielder, Marinette is already under our protection." She lies, ignoring the shocked look Adrien is giving her.

"I'm sorry, what? Former- She was a hero?!" Jason yells, the panic clear on his face.

"Yes, but she was compromised so she doesn't work with us anymore." Marinette says, hoping to calm him down. It doesn't work.

"She was compromised! And you abandoned her? What the hell is wrong with you?" He yells as he starts to pace the room.

"Mr. Todd, it might be best if you-" Batman starts, holding his hands up placatingly.

"I don't wanna fucking hear it, B. You might be okay with watching a bunch of kids run around in costumes and have near death experiences but I'm not watching it. Not again. Now whatever this meeting is can wait, because my sister is currently missing and Batman over here needs to go find her. Because we need to wrap her in some goddamned bubble wrap because apparently this family is a fucking trouble magnet. And if you two are going to be in Gotham, then you can go help look for her too." Jason says, turning and starting to storm off. He pauses and turns back to the group of heroes- vigilantes?- "And her friend Adrien. I'm not sure how we'll fund him, stupid magic light thingy. But Marinette's gonna be pissed if she gets back and her boy toy is missing." He turns and actually leaves this time. Marinette turns to Batman and raises an eyebrow. A silent question on what the next step is. Batman frowns.

"As much as I dislike taking orders from civilians, he's right. Mr. Wayne asked my team to look for Miss Dupain Cheng. I assume the two of you will stay to help." He says. Marinette shakes her head.

"Unfortunately, we're going to have to leave. But we'll be in contact." Marinette says with a quick smile before calling Kaalki's transformation and creating a portal. Repeatedly thinking 'unused bedroom in Wayne manor, she steps through without waiting for a response from Batman, tugging Adrien along. Glancing around, she sighs in relief when she realizes the Kwami didn't take them to another secret lair.

"That was intense." Adrien says, dropping his transformation.

"I need extra Camembert after that disaster." Plagg says with a smirk. Marinette drops her transformation, stifling a giggle at the annoyed look on Tikki’s face.

"It wouldn't have been a disaster if you hadn't convinced Kaalki to do that!" She says angrily. Marinette’s previous humor instantly disappears and she turns to Plagg.

"Plagg, what is she talking about?" She asks, glaring at the Kwami.

"Now, pigtails, don't do anything rash, but the Batcave was my idea." He blurts out.

"I take offense to that. I brought them there!" Kaalki exclaims with a pout.

"Yeah, but I'm the one who found out. And told you and Sugar Cube." Plagg counters making Kaalki roll their eyes.

"Oh puhlease, you wouldn't have known what it was if I hadn't followed you." They say, chin high in the air.

"So apparently Batman is looking for us. What're the odds Mr. Wayne is just working for Batman and not actually Batman himself?" Marinette asks, giving Adrien a hopeful look.

"I think they're the same odds that no one in your family will ask questions about where we were." He says with a shrug. Marinette groans.

"I can't believe my dad is Batman." She drops her head into her hands, taking a moment to breathe before a thought pops into her head.

"Do you think my brothers are the rest of them? Oh god. Damian is totally Robin, and Tim is Red Robin. Which would make Jason Red Hood 'cause Nightwing's hair is completely black. Oh my god. I'm in a family of vigilantes!" She groans, huffing in annoyance.

"What's so bad about that? They'll be even more likely to help us find Hawkmoth." Adrien says, still looking on the bright side.

"That's if they let me out of their sight. You heard Jason, and Mr. Wayne. They want to put a security detail on me and they think I'm a civilian! What’re they gonna do when they realize I’m a superhero too?” Marinette moans, various situations running through her head. She takes a few steadying breaths to try and stave off the panic. They won’t find out, right?

---

Jason kicks a chair he walks past, mumbling under his breath. Bruce hadn’t acted surprised or anything, so apparently he already knew about the situation. Knew and didn’t say shit to anyone else. Of course he did. Jason would’ve cared a few days ago, sure he would’ve. But now he cares. Because now his tiny sister is in danger and he’d be damned if he let her go back to Paris without protection. Hell, he’ll go with if he has to. Anything to keep her safe. To stop her from dying. Or, dying again. And apparently she was a hero in Paris at some point. And she was compromised. And then abandoned. What a pile of shit. Huffing in frustration, he resists the urge to run back to the cave and start shooting. Instead he walks towards his room to grab the keys he’d thrown in there earlier when he got to the manor for dinner. Turning the corner, he freezes in shock when he sees Marinette and Adrien standing there, Adrien gently patting her back as she looks close to panicked.

“Marinette!” Jason calls, running towards her and sweeping her up in a big hug. He didn’t want to let her go. If he let her go, she’d go back to Paris. She’d have to deal with a supervillain and death and horrible things. She was too young for that. He, of all people, would know.

“Jay. Can’t breathe. Please.” She chokes out. Jason lets her down, then glares at her.

“Where the hell have you been? I thought you were going to the bathroom?” He asks, frowning as she grows even paler.

“Uh, er, I was?” She says, sounding more like a question. He narrows his eyes.

“Are you sure?” He asks.

“Yes?” She asks, eye twitching. Jason sighs.

“If you don’t wanna tell me Pixie Pop, you don’t have to. But you are gonna have to tell B.” He says.

“Batman?!” She shrieks, eyes wide. Jason shakes his head, panic welling up.

“No, why- B’s what I call Bruce. Why would you think I was talking about Batman?” He asks, gesturing wildly.

“Because that’s what you called Batman on the phone!” She counters, freezing the second the words are out of her mouth.

“Wait, what? When did you-” Jason stops, a horrible feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. No. She can’t.

“Wait no, I- oh crap.” She mumbles, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“You’re Ladybug.” Jason says, his ears ringing as he looks down at his sister. Well fuck.

---

Dick sighs, turning around in a circle as he looks at the closing shops around him. Where could Marinette have gone? Why did she leave? If she was overwhelmed they would have driven her back to her hotel. She didn’t have to try and walk back by herself. Especially this late. And in Gotham of all places. His phone ringing tugged him from his thoughts and he answered without even looking at the caller ID.

“Hello?” He says, trying hard to push down the worry and focus on the phone call.

”Hey Dick. I found them.” Jay says, sounding tired. Dick lets out a sigh of relief.

“Where were they?” He asks.

”In the manor. Look, I think we all need to have a talk. You should probably come home. And grab Replacement and Demon Spawn on the way back.” Jason says. Dick frowns. How were they in the manor? They all looked in the manor, they were not there.

“Okay, yeah. On my way.” Dick says instead. This should be interesting.

---

Marinette tries to ignore the burning stare from Jason as she grips onto Adrien’s hand. This could be a huge mistake, but it could also help them find Hawkmoth. And take him down for good. The idea of that is too great to give up. So no matter how much it makes her want to puke with nerves, she’d tell her family the truth. That she’s Ladybug. She was sure they’d understand, being the infamous Batfamily and everything.

“Sorry about that, Timmy insisted on grabbing some coffee on the way back. Where’s B?” Dick asks, and Marinette winces at the nickname. Why her brothers thought it was a good idea to call Mr. Wayne ‘B’ as both Batman and Bruce Wayne was beyond her. They’d had secret identities much longer (though after today she wasn’t sure how).

“Now that we are all here, could you explain why you insisted on this meeting, Jason?” Mr. Wayne asks, sat in the same chair he’d been in when the evening had first started. Marinette glances around at her siblings, smiling softly back at Cass who seemed to be trying to reassure her without signing or saying anything.

“Marinette is Ladybug.” Jason blurts out, instead of dropping the bomb slowly like they’d discussed. Silence. Just as Mr. Wayne opens his mouth, Marinette blurts out:

“Yeah, well you’re the Batfamily!” Oops.

Tag List: @maribat-bdbwm @vixen-uchiha @stainedglassm @liquid-luck-00 @jayjayspixiepop @jjmjjktth @mizzy-pop @trippingovermyfeet @queenz-z @thepaceperson @iloontjeboontje @waiting247 @laurcad123 @toodaloo-kangaroo @ritacrow-blog @deathssilentapproach-blog @kittenmywaythrulife @nerd-nowandforever @when-no-wings-do-broomsticks @imarivers8

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layniapetrovnaaa · 4 years

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Kinkmas Day 6 (cockwarming): Five Hargreeves

Five is physically aged up to 17/18 in all my works. Also, I am 18, so this is not like some creepy cougar situation.

Summary: Reader and five go to see their past selves with Luther at the pub. Trouble ensues, and you decide to then try and help Five relax.

Warnings: Language, suggestive banter, name calling, fighting, smut, cockwarming, light praise kink, hints of premature ejaculation.

This is pretty long because it was not originally a kinkmas fic.

***

A cold layer of sweat covers your entire body as you make your way to the pub that your past self was currently occupying.

You knew the dangers of paradox psychosis-- having been part of the commission for many years. Yet, here you were, about to try and negotiate with your two weeks younger self and significant other.

It wasn't you that you were worried about, however, it was Five.

You had been partners for quite a few years before you got together, that being said, you knew Five very well. You knew it would be unlikely that he would react kindly to himself

If the first four stages of paradox psychosis were any indication, he was already fumbling this task.

“You alright, Five?”

“Fine.” he says sharply, but in an unconvincing tone.

“Here we go.” Luther mutters as he swings open the door, holding it for you and your counterpart.

Upon entering, you catch a glimpse of you and Five at the bar, you turn and laugh at something he says, flirtatiously placing your hand on his arm.

What you would give to go back to those days, the ones where you weren't constantly worrying about the apocalypse, when you and Five could have a casual drink at the bar, then find each other in one of the empty bathrooms later to... blow off some steam before returning to your jobs as hitmen.

“Well, there we are.” you breath out.

Five’s eyes almost bug out of his head as he peers around to get a good look at the two of you together, Luther as well.

Despite the fact that you were also just as susceptible to paradox psychosis, you seemed to be the most level headed.

“How come [Y/N] looks the same?” Luther asks, stupidly.

“I told you already, I don’t age due to my regenerative healing factor, I’m like you guys.” your growl.

Maybe you weren't the most level headed, blame it on nerves.

“Huh”

He glances over at Five, who was anxiously rubbing his hands together and looking as if he just saw a ghost, before asking another stupid question.

“Why don’t we just grab the briefcase and run?”

You scoff, and Five answers him, almost hurt by his words.

“Luther, I would never let that happen. We’re trained to guard these briefcases with our lives.”

“Right.”

“Plus, it’s the inherit paradox where this gets tricky.We’re endangering our existence just being in the same room with our former selves.”

“Huh-- What do you mean?”

You roll your eyes.

“C’mon Ape-man, try to keep up.” you scoff out, biting your thumb nail anxiously.

“If the old me doesn't travel back to 2019 like he’s supposed to, the whole thing unravels itself. I cease to exist. Same goes for [Y/N], here.” Five explains to his brother, making exaggerated hand gestures as he does.

Luther nods, and Five keeps talking.

“So our best chance is to talk--reason-- with them. Usually, I would count on [Y/N] to keep me grounded in situations like this, but given that fact that she might experience psychosis as well, I’m not really sure how this is gunna go.”

“Ah” Luther lets out, a bit apprehensive.

“He’ll understand.” Five mutters to himself, itching his neck.

“You just itched your neck! That’s stage two of paradox psychosis.” Luther whisper shouts.

“Luther, don’t be ridiculous.” you speak, wiping the sweat from your forehead as you do so.

“No, I didn't. I didn't itch my neck.” Five says defensively.

“Well, denial is stage one, and you’ve both got it. “

“We are fine, Luther.” You say harshly and leaning in dramatically.

Five huffs and shakes himself out a bit before he starts towards your targets.

“Wait-” Luther says, grabbing his arm.

“What?” Five hisses out, still put off by his brother’s most recent comments.

“Maybe I should go first. I mean, the two of you will freak them out.”he explains before turning to your lover.

“Bumping into your own tiny doppelganger? He will lose his shit.”

You all turn to look at yourselves-- the couple-- at the bar.

“Just let me brake the ice.” he continues.

Five looks over at you for approval and you give him a nod. This seemed to be the first time Luther actually had a decent plan.

As you prepare to meet yourself, the three of you take a few deep breaths in.

As Luther saunters over to the couple , you put a hand on Five’s back, rubbing soothing across his lean frame.

“This will all work out fine.” you hum, more to yourself than him.

He looks up at the ceiling, then back down at his hands, continuing to fiddle with any of the imperfections on them.

“Whaddya say, after this we’ll go home, finally have some alone time, release all that pent up stress?”

He looks into you eyes, and for a moment, his anxiety stops.

“That would be wonderful.” he pecks your lips quick before you turn around the corner of beam, hearing Luther introduce you.

“Hey there, stranger.”

***

“Well...this is nice, isn’t it? The five of us, together like this.”

You put your head in your hands as your lookalike glares over at Luther because of his unfitting tone and comment. The Fives are the only ones who respond verbally.

“No.”

The physically older five speaks.

“Somebody explain to me how I am having a pint of Guinness with my younger self and my girl.”

“Older, actually. I’m you, just 14 days older.” Five clicks.

“I have pubic hair smarter than you.”

And that was your cue to start and finish off your drink in one go.

“How is that possible?” the only other female at the table asks.

“I can explain. You see, one hour from now, on the grassy knoll, before the president is killed, you two will brake your contract with the commission.” he says, his eyes flicking over to the other version of yourself, and you noticed his eyes soften slightly.

“I already know you’re thinking about it. All those years in the apocalypse, we never stopped worrying about our family. Well, today, you are going to do something about it. Today, you are going to attempt to time travel forward to 2019. However you are going to screw up the jump and end up in this twip of a body, trapped forever, small, pubescent.” Five says, starting off soft at first, then becoming more vicious.

“Okay.” the other Five says nervously.

“How come I look the same then?” You-- well, not you-- speak.

“Because we don’t age, moron.”

Younger you sits back and scoffs, never breaking her glare.

“See! It’s a reasonable question!” Luther shouts rather obnoxiously.

“Ah yes, the burden of being young and sexy forever.” the white haired Five speaks, it’s meant to be humorous, but everyone is to stressed to acknowledge it properly.

Luther chokes slightly on his beer, whereas the Five that you are sat next to reaches for his and gulps it down rather quickly. You just roll your eyes.

“Look, we’re getting off topic.”

Regaining his wits, the man that sits across from you speaks.

“Even if I was to believe you, what am I supposed to do about it, not jump?” he says aggressively, with a hint of fear.

“No, no. I--We need you both to jump.”

“If you two don’t jump, we cease to exist.” you elaborate on his behalf.

“What I need from you is to jump correctly.”

“I’m listening.”

“The first time through, we got the calculations wrong. That’s how I ended up in this body. But now, I know the correct calculation.”

“What is it?” the other Five whispers sharply.

“I’ll be glad to tell you... in exchange for that briefcase you’re holding under the table.” the physically younger Five states, a bit too cockily.

“What do you think?”

It’s silent for a moment, and in that moment you hold your breath.

“I think...I need to piss.”

You let out a sigh and hold your head in your hands as he gets up and heads towards the back of the pub, Luther following shortly after.

“You’ll have to excuse me as well.” [Y/N] says and gets up. You recognize the slight mischievous gleam in her-- your-- eyes when she gets up and heads towards the bathrooms. Your suspicions are confirmed when you see her slip into the men’s bathroom instead of the women's.

You quickly turn to Five, who is bouncing his leg up and down anxiously and not looking away from the bathroom doors.

“They’re planning something, and they’re trying to get Luther in on it.”

He shakes his head before speaking.

“I know. I bet they’re gunna kill us.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” you say, a bit shocked at his accusation.

“Homicidal rage is stage seven, [Y/N], and all four of us are already exhibiting symptoms of stage six. Besides, that’s what I would do if I were him, and I am him.” he says very matter-of-factly, which makes you gulp, given the fact this he isn’t wrong.

A minute later, the three of them appear.

“We good?” Five asks cautiously.

“You got a deal.” The other Five speaks.

“We gotta hurry, Kennedy’s en route. Less than an hour till showtime.” the other version of yourself says, pulling her bag onto her shoulder.

“Why are you so anxious to get going all of a sudden?”

“Relax. Your getting paranoid.” The mustache donning Five lets out a scoffing chuckle, itching his chin on his shoulder immediate after.

“Oh, am I?”

They glare at each other for another moment before exiting the pub.

***

“What are you looking at?” Five asks the random stranger aggressively.

You try to push him along, but he continues.

“You see somethin’ funny?” he shouts even louder.

You notice that the other three members of your party are talking among themselves in front of you. Trying to focus hard on what they are saying, you miss Fives next insult, which was along the lines of “Something, something, asshole!”.

“Mind your business!-”

“Five!” you scold. “-Or I’ll give you something to stare at!”

“Stop it!”

“You wish you could pull off these shorts!”

You just roll your eyes and try to move him along.

Luther falls back and you immediately know something is up.

“Hey, lovebirds. How you guys doing?”

Five takes a look at Luther, then a deep breath in before descending the stairs and speaking.

“They’re gunna kill us, aren’t they?”

“What?” Luther lets out a nervous chuckle.

“What, him, her? He’s gunna kill you? Yeah, right. That’s ridiculous.” he chuckles again.

“Luther?”

“Yeah, hm?” he perks up too quickly when you speak.

“Promise me you will never go into acting. Because you’ve got to be one of the worst liars I’ve ever met.” and Five hums in agreement.

“You’re a worse liar than you are a spotter.”

At that, Luther drops his act.

“Okay, who’s fault is that? What good is having a spotter if you won’t even listen to him?”

“So you admit you’re all conspiring against us?” Five says, whisper yelling. You scoff.

“Do--Do you admit that you’re suffering from paradox psychosis?”

“Nuh-uh, don’t try and turn the tables, Luther.” you seethe.

“She’s got it too!” he points at you.

Five ignoring the both of you and instead defends himself.

“All I’m suffering from is bracing clarity about you and your murderous intentions.” his voice is like venom as he itches his chest.

“Look, it’s not like they’re gonna “kill you” kill you. They just want to kill a, um... version of you two.

“But I am that version of me!”

“Hey, I don’t love it, either, but he’s actually got a pretty good plan.

“You’re really not helping your case, Luther.” you say, your voice agitated.

“What? The one where you guys off us, then jump to 2019 to save the world?” Five asks, aggressively pushing his hair back.

“Yeah, wait, how’d you know that.”

“Because, Luther, we are the same people, we think the same way, and that’s exactly what we would do!” you spit, muttering “imbecile” under your breath.

“Okay, all I know is that we’ve got one of you too many,-- and you’re the mean one and this Five is a maniac.”

You clench your fists and try not to hurl yourself at the monkey-boy.

“Maniac? Luther, you have seen nothing. If you want a maniac, I will show you maniac.” Five growls. Maybe Luther was right.

“Okay, as your spotter,-” you and Five both scoff.

“I think the best thing I can do for you right now is put you out of your misery.” Luther says in a matter-of-fact tone, and that’s when Five’s had enough.

“Okay, Luther, listen,” Five starts, turning and grabbing Luther. You make sure to watch the show from a safe two feet away.

“I know your feeble mind only responds to age and authority, so listen very closely.” Five starts, and you got a feeling from the way that he was gripping Luther’s arms-- this would most likely end in an outburst.

“Yet again, you are experiencing daddy issues. This time with your own brother, which is honestly making me a bit crazy.”

“But remember this:” he says, and its the calm before the storm.

“I’m 14 days older than him. I have seniority here. So it is me you should be listening to, Luther.”

...and here it comes...

“I’M THE DADDY HERE!”

Ding! Ding! Ding! We have a winner.

“Five, you need to calm down.” you finally intervene.

“What, I thought you liked it when I play daddy.” he says with a veil of smugness, coating his paranoid ticks.

Before you can huff out a retort, the Five that was walking in front of you alerts everyone that you all had reached your destination.

And, to say the least, things didn’t exactly go according to plan. At least you survived!

***

When you arrived home you knew your tasks were not yet finished.

Ah, yes, the trials and tribulations of trying to help Five relax after stopping an apocalypse...twice.

Five heads straight to the kitchen, ignoring his siblings, to get a cup of coffee.

You and Luther filter in behind him slowly, exhausted from the day you’d had.

Five hands you your own cup of joe and you place a hand on his arm, giving it a small squeeze, and offering him a sweet little smile-- as if to say “thank you”. He returns the look before taking a sip from his mug.

“Where the hell have you three been?” Allison asks, her voice sharp, but at the same time, caring and concerned.

“Doesn’t matter.” Five says bluntly before walking away, pulling you with him into Elliott’s old bedroom.

Allison just scoffs and shakes her head, walking away, Luther following quickly after her.

You set your mug down on the desk as Five closes the door.

He goes and sits at the desk immediately, muttering about how you all still had to find a way to get back to 2019.

“Five.” you say, your tone that of a parent who is correcting their child.

He looks up at you cautiously before determining that he wasn't in too much danger, continuing his scribbles.

“[Y/N] you know just as well as I do, we can’t stay here.”

“I’m not asking to stay, I’m asking you to take a break for 30 minutes and-” you walk over to him, standing behind his chair, starting to trail kisses up his neck, your teeth grazing the shell of his ear. “spend some time with me. Hmm?”

“I--” he stutters, trying to weigh his options as your hands start to massage his shoulders lightly.

“I need to finish this equation I just started.”

You huff and make your way around the chair to sit on his lap. His hands immediate rest on your hips. And, although he has and exasperated look on his face, you can tell he is enjoying this.

“But, I want you.” you whisper, your breath ghosting over his lips.

You grind yourself down on him unexpectedly, which makes him release a loud, and slightly high pitched moan.

You grin like the cheshire cat.

“Don’t get cocky.”

“Mmm, but how can I not be when I make the great Five Hargreeves moan like a horny schoolboy.” you mock, your eyes trailing down his sweater vest covered torso.

“Oh, shut up.” he says just before kissing you feverishly.

Soon, he is lifting your shirt, throwing it across the room, and groping your breasts.

You let out a content sigh at his actions, continuing to swish your hips back and forth.

“You’re so beautiful” he mutters and he leans in to kiss your neck.

You let out delicate moans as he sucks a hickey over your right jugular.

“I love those pretty noises you make, sweetheart.” He says, and you hum.

“Five,” you plead. “I need you.”

“Fuck” he curses at your words.

You get up to quickly take your bottoms off. he lifts his hips, sliding his shorts down to about mid-thigh.

You get back on his lap and start stroking him a bit before eventually lining him up at your entrance, and sinking down, letting out a heavy breath.

“Oh, that’s a good girl.” Five sighs.

“You always feel so damn good.” he hums, and you let out a soft moan at his words.

“Just-just let me finish this one problem and I’ll fuck you properly, okay?”

“Okay.” you sigh, sultry.

“Good girl.” he says, looking at you admirably, running a knuckle down your cheek softly, giving it a quick peck.

Any small thing, any move of his hips, made you let out small gasps and breaths.

It seems like forever before he is finished, but when you hear the sound of his pencil on the desk, you know he is finally finished. Ready to ravage you.

You start to move up and down slowly, trying to enjoy your first real moment of peace with your other half in a a long time.

Unable to take the slowness any longer, he orders you to get into the bed.

You comply and lay down.

He stands at the foot of the bed and grabs your ankle, dragging you closer to him before he lines himself up at your entrance again.

His hands rest on the undersides of your knees, pushing them forward so that they are near your shoulders

“You look so beautiful like this” he murmurs, taking in your appearance.

Despite occupying a body that he hadn't possessed in a long time, he still knew exactly what to do to make you a blubbering mess. However, that being said, this version of himself seemed to be...sensitive to more sexual things. Reaching his climax quicker than he intended, he lets out a string of curses.

He seems slightly embarrassed, but makes no note of it when he tucks himself back into his shorts and gets on his knees.

You let out a moan when he finally puts his mouth on you, a cocky grin forming on his lips.

“Who’s the cocky one now?” you ask rhetorically, breathless, and he dives back in. Your hands thread through his soft and thick hair, tugging on it ever so slightly when you feel a particularly pleasureful jolt.

And its not long before you reach your glorious climax as well.

“HEY, GUYS? WHEN YOU TWO ARE DONE BONING YOU MIGHT WANT TO COME DOWN HERE AND SEE THE NEWS.” Diego shouts, and you blush, knowing that everyone now knew what you and Five were up to-- that is, if they didn’t already.

“We should probably go down there.” Five says, helping you to get up and giving you back your shirt.

You agree and go downstairs, only to find that you and the Hargreeves siblings were currently America’s most wanted.

#five Hargreeves x reader #Five Hargreeves #five Hargreeves smut #five is always aged up in all my fics #the umbrella academy #kinkmas

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insomniactalks · 2 years

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Chocolates versus Granola Bar (Gina's 'Sweet Gesture'- Past, Present, and Future)

So I noticed my Chocolategate analysis caused a bit of contention in recent days among the tagged ships, particularly Portwells and Rinas. I should make it clear that when I tag your ships appropriately (by which I mean it’s not anti or hate, an analysis is fair game), please feel free to respond to the post or send me an ask (whatever makes you feel more comfortable) if you agree or disagree! I’m more than open to constructive criticism on anything I post, especially if I tag your ship. Don’t be afraid to engage! I promise I will always try to understand your perspective as well. 😄

That being said, I’ve been thinking about how the Ricky chocogate situation (2.03-2.04) is directly related to the granola bar scene between Portwell in 2.09. I finally learned how to add pics, so I can use visual evidence to back up my claims. Probably gonna be lengthy, so adding a read more. 😅

Additions to Chocolategate analysis:

To start, the theory on who may have gotten Gina the chocolates, whether it was EJ or Ricky, gained traction at different times over the summer. For Rinas, it was repopularized more recently, but started making the rounds back in July (iirc). The theories of EJ possibly being the one to deliver the choco for Gina’s mom showed up back in May.

Like I said in my original analysis, it really doesn't matter whether or not either boy got her the chocolates because they are ultimately and canonically from her mother. The sweet Valentine's Day gesture Gina was waiting for all day came from Terri because she didn't forget. Work hours for FEMA are long, sometimes 7am to 7pm, so it’s possible Terri remembered their tradition after work, later that night. Maybe Ricky or EJ helped to make that happen. If it was the latter, we can add that on to a long list of sweet gestures EJ has already done for Gina. If it was the former, that doesn't help Rina's interactions in 2.04 because it would mean Ricky contributed to Gina's insecurities (misreading the signs) by not admitting to helping her mom out. He sarcastically states "I go big Gina. You know that" in 2.04, which would only make his behavior towards her throughout S2 worse if he really did get her the chocolates but never admitted to it. Regardless, chocogate isn't about some boy. It's been used to strengthen Gina's bond with female characters (her mom in 2.03, Ashlyn in 2.10, and Nini in 2.10/2.12). Terri didn't forget their tradition, Ash has become Gina's number one confidant, and Nini wants to continue to build their trust/friendship. Now, on to Gina's past, present, and future with sweet gestures (in relation to food).

Ricky, Chocolates, and the Past:

In her convo with Ricky at his apartment in 2.03, Gina admits "Every girl likes a sweet gesture. I speak from experience" which I have no doubt is in reference to Ricky playing WTWMAY to Gina in 1.06 (which was initiated by Gina). Ricky playing her a song on his guitar was a sweet gesture to Gina which she thought was only their moment to share, until Ricky serenaded Nini in front of all the Wildcats in 2.01 (unprompted, might I add). He responds to her statement with "I think you'll get yours too" which Gina misinterprets to mean that Ricky will give her a sweet gesture soon. Unfortunately, after sending her crush an "embarrassing text" (2.04), it turns out that her mom sent her a Valentine after all.

Unbeknownst to Gina at the time, Ricky's statement does end up coming true, just not in the way she thought it would. He foreshadows Gina "getting her [sweet gestures] too" from EJ throughout S2! 😄 She just had to be a little more patient and raise/set her standards over time (starting in 2.05). However, considering her past experience with 'sweet gestures' in regards to Ricky (and how wrong/embarrassed she felt) Gina doesn't want to risk getting hurt again and misread the signs, so it takes her a long time to realize EJ is romantically interested in her. I mean, just look at the way Gina talks about Valentine's Day in 2.04's recap. She resents the holiday by proclaiming "Valentine's Day is a made-up holiday that I choose not to recognize." The audience obviously knows this to be false, especially considering how hopeful and happy she was in 2.03, thinking she received a Valentine from her crush. Thankfully, a surprise present day run-in with Jack at the airport in 2.09 helps Gina realize her own feelings for EJ (by letting go of the past) and that what she's looking for is already presenting itself.

Jack, the VIP Lounge, and the Present:

I didn't know I needed a mini Andi Mack reunion until I saw Sofia and Asher together onscreen again (Buffy and Jonah are all grown up! 😭) I absolutely loved what Jack's character brought to Gina's character arc by 2.09. In their first sit-down convo in the episode, Gina asks Jack a few personal questions in an attempt to get to know him ("So is Miami home?") while she searches her bag for a granola bar. Jack decides to come up with a solution to her problem ("...[I] got a backup plan") by throwing her into a (hilarious!) improv scenario. 😂 Using the skills she learned from Miss Jenn's improv weekend (2.06) and the ones she picked up from Jack (about crying in front of the gate agent), Jack and Gina are able to gain access to the VIP Lounge. Here, the audience gets real insight into Gina's life through her honest conversation with Jack:

Gina: I actually have a much older brother. Though I might as well be an only child.

Jack: He's not around?

Gina: He basically ghosted us when I was a kid. I guess you could say he's a free spirit. (sarcastically) Maybe you two know each other.

Jack: (hurt) Below the belt.

Gina: I'm sorry. I usually don't open up to people. I'm a little rusty.

Jack: You can practice on me.

Gina: Haven't had a lot of luck with that. The no-strings confession. (This is in reference to the Rina 2.06 flashback confession on HSM opening night)

Jack: Ah. You're a fellow member of the Heartbreak Club.

Gina: Oh, I think I'm the president.

Jack: Do you know the trick? Care less.

Gina: Smart. I should try that.

Not only do we learn about Gina's estranged relationship with her absentee older brother, Jamie, we can see she's still hurt and is continuing to process the pain from her heartbreak over Ricky (in healthier ways than before) by acknowledging it and talking about it. Jack being a complete stranger, one she is likely to never see again, gives Gina the confidence to have a real "no-strings confession" later on in the episode when she admits to him "It's cute. You're cute." Jack makes it no secret that he's romantically interested in Gina, which she is aware of. But they both know their time together at the airport is coming to an end. In an effort to make him feel better, Gina says "We'll always have the VIP Lounge" where, through the skills Jack taught her, she was able to enjoy plenty of snacks to satiate her hunger. Unlike with Ricky and the chocolates mishap, Gina doesn't have to question Jack's intention on helping her find something to eat because she's aware of the fact that he likes her. However, instead of meeting her needs himself, Jack shows Gina how to get what she wants. Before leaving, Jack hands Gina a paper airplane by imitating a plane crash (which is symbolic of Gina letting go of her past with Ricky). What else does Gina compare to a plane crash (twice)? Her HSM opening night confession to Ricky in 2.06 ("You know how when the plane is going down, people confess things because they know they'll never have to see you again?" AND "Yeah, the plane was going down.") Though she had a nice time spending the day with Jack, there's only one boy in Salt Lake City who meets Gina's wants and needs in a potential romantic partner. Enter Gina's future boyfriend, EJ Caswell, granola bar in hand.

EJ, the Granola Bar, and the Future:

I remember when 2.09 had first aired and EJ showed up with the aforementioned granola bar, the fandom lost it (some good, some bad) and tried to discredit his sweet gesture. Instead of focusing on the thought behind it, the fandom tried to minimize EJ's sweet gesture for Gina by comparing the monetary value of the granola bar to Jack's gesture in the VIP Lounge and Ricky's sarcastic/joking statement in 2.04. Some screenshots to prove my point:

Ricky's "I go big Gina, you know that” is in direct response to Gina (half-jokingly) saying she found “part of a Twix bar near my locker. I can only assume it’s your latest Valentine to me.” Ricky and Gina are trying to joke with each other about the chocolates in 2.04 in an effort to preserve their friendship but it only ends up hurting Gina more (b/c it’s too soon to joke about at this point in S2). The saddest part about Ricky’s statement to Gina in 2.04 is the fact that she does know he goes big/sweet with his gestures when he’s interested in a girl (esp Nini). Some examples include 1.01 (audition for HSM), 1.10 (quitting the show for Ninis chance at YAC/Breaking Free duet), 2.01 (serenading her in Ashlyn’s living room), 2.03 (wrote a song for her for Val. Day), 2.04 (drives thru snowstorm to see her at train/bus station), most of which Ricky initiates himself, and all of which Gina is aware of/eye-witness to. EJs small, sweet gesture of the granola bar is wrapped up in the big, grand gesture of driving to the airport in the middle of the night (during his Spring Break) to pick Gina up after a long day. Ricky’s hope Gina “will get [her sweet gesture] too” in 2.03 comes true multiple times throughout S2b thanks to EJ (paraphrasing) (2.05- “That was amazing...You’re glowing��, 2.07- “I felt bad you’re stuck on lookout alone”, 2.10- They talk over the break). In all these instances, Gina herself calls either EJ or something he did for her “sweet.” In an attempt to lighten Gina’s mood on Valentine’s Day during their convo in his living room (2.03), Ricky tries (unsuccessfully) to cheer her up by giving her hope someday, someone will give her her sweet gesture too (it just won’t be him). I’m not saying it won’t ever be Ricky, but given his track record and the canon facts, he simply doesn’t “go big” for Gina. But he does want her to be happy too, so he gives her hope that someone else will give her the sweet gestures “every girl loves” (2.03).

When making a Movie/TV Show, every little detail is handpicked by the crew to contribute to the story. Nothing is a coincidence or left up to chance, including the background music used in a scene. The show uses the exact same score (music) in the Rina 2.03 convo as the Portwell airport scene in 2.09. Ricky foreshadowing Gina getting her sweet gesture comes true in the form of another food item, this time a granola bar instead of chocolates.

https://mobile.twitter.com/hqportwell/status/1426198538371756032

While it’s a mystery to Gina on who delivered the chocolates in 2.03, EJ hands her something that she was specifically craving all day while stuck at the airport. The granola bar not only shows initiative, it shows the fact EJ pays attention to Gina, cares for her, and was able to anticipate her wants/needs without her having to ask. The way that Ricky shows his care for Nini (through grand/sweet gestures) is the way that EJ shows his care for Gina (also grand/sweet gestures). What Gina has observed between Ricky and Nini (as a former/current couple) is exactly how EJ treats her (even prior to dating). Four episodes after EJ has his moment of realization, Gina finally realizes her own feelings for EJ by the end of 2.09. It’s not until both EJ and Gina are on the same page (with a little help from their friends, including Ricky and Nini) that the narrative rewards them for their patience and courage by 2.10 with their risotto date (I swear these food parallels are killing me 😩). While her past heartbreak (Ricky) almost held Gina back in 2.10, the possibility of a future relationship with EJ, via an official risotto date, gives her the confidence to “put [herself] out there [again] and get [everything!] back” this time (2.05).

Last Note: I used to be a hardcore Rina stan so don’t think I’ll just shut you down if you disagree. I’m open to different interpretations (with evidence to support your claims) if you wanna discuss! 😛 If you got this far, thanks for reading! ❤ lol 😂

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mikrowrites · 3 years

Text

andromeda

(vignettes cut from cottages of constellations; can be read as a one-shot)

c!wilbur x reader

summary: a series of memories from y/n’s perspective; the war, the death, the stars, the secret, and the meeting.

warnings: fluff, angst, violence, war themes, bad mental health situations, death, language, manipulation

a/n: this is basically a bunch of scrapped ideas from cottages of constellations that i shoved together bc i already had them written and have been hitting a writer’s block with pt 3. the only part of this you should regard as “canon” is the syndicate vignette, that will be in pt 3. enjoy!!

Y/n and Wilbur kept many secrets.

That was not something unknown by any, not a surprise to some. The two seemed to have words unspoken, existing between the glance of an eye or a brush of a hand, a nod of a head and a ever so soft sigh. Y/n and Wilbur kept many secrets to themselves and themselves only.

The cottage was one. A secret kept along a peaceful riverbank, until the price of TNT seemed higher than that forgotten paradise. There were some other secrets too. Some inconsequential, some almost burdening.

Y/n and Wilbur kept a secret they chose to not share with anyone. A secret that would be for the best if left unsaid.

But the price of freedom would prove higher and more demanding. The price for a tall brunette man to whisper the words into an enemy’s ear, for the enemy to relay it to someone who was once deemed an old friend.

The moment Schlatt spoke the secret out loud to Y/n with threatening intent, everything came crashing to the ground.

It was a secret Schlatt would die with.

—

The War…

Y/n arrived as the sun rose at dawn.

Wilbur was there to meet her, his uniform jacket unbuttoned messily and his cravat askew. As she approached him closer he smiled softly, but the smile was tired, aching, the light in his eyes dimmed by the bags beneath them.

What was the saying, “winning is easy, governing is harder”?

Y/n feared both feats were insurmountably difficult.

“Hello, love.” Wilbur sighed, striding the distance of Y/n’s approach and pulling her into his arms, holding her like a lifeline.

“Hey Wil, it’s okay, I’m here.” Y/n reassured.

He pulled away with a less tight smile, wrapping his fingers around her own, pulling her towards the majestic walls.

“Y/n L/n, welcome to L’manburg.”

And L’manburg was small, and undeveloped, and nothing quite impressive really. But it was her lover’s nation, and to Y/n it looked like a spectacle of heaven. “It’s wonderful.”

Wilbur led her into the camaravan, where battle plans and declarations had been hung and placed about, with an occasional empty bottle or a misplaced piece of weaponry.

Y/n had fought in wars before, in another life, far from this server. She had played the part of diplomat, of ally, of enemy. It was all a language familiar to her like breathing, and she suspected Wilbur was well aware, why else would he write begging her to join the front lines?

She hummed in thought, running her hands over a tabletop. “When’s the next battle, then?”

“Tomorrow.” Wilbur replied simply.

Y/n nodded. “Okay. Where do we start?”

Wilbur smiled once more.

—

The Death…

Y/n struggled against Quackity’s hold, screaming her throat raw. “YOU KILLED HIM!”

Smoke from the firework barrage still lingered on the execution box, Schlatt turning from his podium to Y/n. He smirked. “Y/n, my dear, he was a traitor. You know what happens to traitors.”

Y/n spat at his feet, the man laughing. “That’s cute. Remember Y/n, I hold all the cards in my hands. You don’t want to step out of line, remember? Who knows what secrets could get spilled.”

“I don’t give a fuck.” Y/n glared, her eyes like fire as the two stood off against each other on the podium under Manberg’s watching eyes. “Because I am going to fucking kill you before you even think about it.”

Schlatt laughed loudly again, facing the crowd. “Do you hear that, folks? Miss Y/n is going to kill me!” He lowered his voice, leaning so he was face to face with her. “That’s treason, my friends.”

Y/n hardened her eyes, as Quackity let her arms go. She stepped forwards, her hand on the hilt of her sheathed sword. Everything was quiet, not the crowd’s jabs or cries were heard by her, not even Niki’s protests to spare her best friend.

Schlatt smiled, unsheathing his own sword as Y/n stood her ground, preparing to produce her own in hopes of taking down the tyrannical man once and for all.

“These were not the ideals of L’manberg.” Y/n shouted so the audience could hear her. “And Manberg should be no different. And I’m getting really fucking tired of you hurting everyone and everything I love. So yeah, I’m a traitor, because I value people over a country.”

“People you’d be willing to lose a life for?” Schlatt jeered.

“Time and time again, yes.” She verified.

Schlatt shook his head in amusement. “Y/n, the patron saint of L’manberg. You’ll fall as easily as any man.”

Y/n smirked, drawing her own sword. “Good thing I’m not a man then, yes?”

“STOP! Stop!”

The two adversaries’ heads whipped over, catching the glimpse of a tall brunette in a brown trench coat walking down the aisle of seats, hands out in a preventative gesture. “Stop.”

“Wil…?” The man who left her behind. The man who promised safety. The man who most importantly, loves her. The former President, to protect his former First Lady.

Schlatt’s sword ran through Y/n’s body. Wilbur screamed.

The girl gasped, grasping Schlatt’s shoulder’s with tight fingers, looking at him in shock. He had gotten the upper hand. Y/n had never lost a duel, yet this one was over before it had even started because she did the one thing she had been trained to never do in battle.

Y/n found distraction in a lover.

Wilbur would always be her hubris.

Schlatt leaned over with booze-tainted breath to whisper in her ear. “Your secret is safe with me.”

He then ripped the sword out of her, and everything went black. The last thing Y/n heard before waking up laying in the soft grass of a forest was the sound of Wilbur shouting her name.

Y/n was killed by JSchlatt

—

The Stars…

Long ago, in a world different from where she was now, Y/n’s mother had taught her every constellation strewn across the night sky. The young girl would marvel at her mother, eyes shining with curiosity and awe as the soft-spoken woman would point to each cluster of stars.

Life was simple then, before war after war Y/n was forced to fight and win. Before aching loss and hurt.

Y/n laid on the angled roof of Philza’s house, her lips parted slightly as her eyes traced designs of warriors and beasts and lovers. Her breath fogged into the night sky, the girl indifferent to the cold surrounding her.

“Kid, what’re ya doin’?”

She flicked her eyes down to where Technoblade stood beneath her, staring up at her form with disinterest but yet a glint of confusion or curiosity.

Y/n smirked, her eyes traveling back up to the sky. “Chasing constellations.”

Technoblade definitely had the right idea to be a tint worried at the sight of Y/n on a roof, staring off into nothing. It had been a week and a half since they had both blown up New L’manberg, and her mind was undoubtedly conflicted. Techno supposed if he were in the same situation, he’d feel the same perhaps. But now (though he’d never show it) he was just concerned of the well-being of his old friend.

So Technoblade was immensely surprised when Y/n patted a spot on the roof next to her and said: “cmon”.

The blood god was silent and still for a moment before pulling out his trident, using it to launch himself up and land gracefully onto the roof next to her. The girl didn’t flinch a bit, just turned back to the night sky.

Y/n looked tired, Techno noticed, but yet relieved. He hadn’t seen her this relaxed since their last war fought together away from this server, where she had spoken of a kindhearted brunette she was running away with after the battle’s conclusion.

Technoblade sat next to her, the girl sighing. “No more wars, Techno. I’ve fought my last one. I’m tired of being a pawn in someone’s game, of breaking myself for others.” Y/n huffed out a laugh. “I think I might try that retirement plan.”

“Retirement is overrated.” Technoblade groaned. “So if I made you an offer, you’d refuse?”

Y/n shrugged, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around her legs, resting her chin on her kneecaps. “Depends on the offer. I’m pretty done being taken advantage of.”

Techno turned to look at her. “All these years and you don’t trust the proof I wouldn’t.”

“Can’t blame a girl for having trust issues.” She grumbled. “What’s the offer?”

“I’m putting together a group of people with common ideals. Anarchy, we’d be there to abolish these kingdoms’ governments before they can cause more death and destruction, cause more Wilburs.” Techno explained, the girl turning to him at the sound of her ex-lover’s name. “We’re called the Syndicate.”

Y/n murmured the name to herself, furrowing her eyebrows. “Who’s we?”

“Philza and I. Zephyrus and Prostileus. And, potentially, you.” He stated. “Codenames.”

She turned back to the stars, silent for a few minutes. Technoblade patiently sat in the quiet, letting the girl mull over her thoughts. It had been about five minutes when he spoke up. “So? What’ll it be?”

Y/n pursed her lips, before parting them with a soft exhale. “Andromeda… call me Andromeda.”

Technoblade smiled at his old comrade in battle, now considered an ally and friend.

“Welcome to the Syndicate, Andromeda.”

—

The Secret…

Y/n wasn’t sure how long she had sat in the makeshift cell. Had it been days? Weeks? She didn’t know. All she knew was locked away to stand trial for “aiding fugitives in escaping”.

Her thoughts drifted to Wilbur, as they usually did in moments like these, where she fought desperately to remember the sound of his laughter or his loving assurances. Y/n hoped he and Tommy were safe, and she knew they were smart so they would be.

But she feared for Fundy as well. They had spoken on the night he announced his campaign for president, their hushed voices behind the podium as the rest of the server were asleep.

Y/n met the boy in the shadows of the podium, Fundy looking at her for some kind of reaction. Would she shout in anger? Cry in sadness? Running against his father was a betrayal, he should be reprimanded by the closest thing to a mother he had.

Instead, she smiled, and hugged him.

Fundy tensed in surprise before wrapping his arms around her, burying his face in her shoulder as his hands clutched the back of her jacket.

“You know I have to support and stand by your father,” she started, softly rubbing small circles into Fundy’s back. “but it will never overshadow how proud I am of you.”

“Thank you, mama.” He sighed out, Y/n smiling kindly.

“You are my pride and you are my joy, Fundy. There’s nothing you could do that could make me love you less. Don’t forget that, okay?” Y/n asked.

Fundy nodded his head against his mother figure’s shoulder, still embracing her.

He missed the tears in her eyes as she bit her lip to keep her walls up. Indulging in this moment wasn’t something she was deserving of, and she knew that.

She had chosen to forego this path, it would be unfair of her to try and act as though she hadn’t changed everything.

The door to empty room creaked open, Y/n looking up to meet the eyes of a man she had once thought of as an old friend, but now some who repulsed her more than anything on this server. The man smirked, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Y/n. Long time, no see.”

“Schlatt.” The name sounded like venom on her tongue, Y/n glaring at the man with dark eyes.

“How are you, hm?” Schlatt pulled a chair over for him to sit on, Y/n scoffing in disbelief.

“I don’t know Schlatt, you tell me. What the fuck is wrong with you, you were our friend!” She shouted.

Schlatt sat back in his hair. “I’m no one’s friend here. I’m a president here to run this country.”

Y/n rolled her eyes and leaned back against the wall, the man smirking.

“I want you to join me.”

That made the girl start to laugh, shaking her head. “You are something else, Schlatt.”

“I’m serious, I want you to join me and Manberg.” Schlatt deadpanned.

“Fuck off.” was Y/n’s reply.

Schlatt sighed, standing from where he sat, and paced to another side of the room. “Tell me, does your little lover boy have an infatuation with TNT?”

Y/n furrowed her eyebrows. “Not that I’m aware, and if I was I wouldn’t tell you.”

“Fair enough.” Schlatt said, his footsteps clacking against stone as he further paced. “Well, he recently made some deals with the devil and came into possession of a lot of fucking TNT. You wanna know what he traded for that much power? Secrets.”

She stiffened, eyeing Schlatt warily, her voice barely above a whisper. “Secrets?”

Schlatt hummed, grinning. “Oh yeah. Loads of ‘em. I’m a chronic eavesdropper, so I had to get the scoop. And you’ll never guess what I heard.”

Y/n stood slowly, like an animal bracing for a fight, her fists shaking. She uttered the man’s name in warning, Schlatt stopping and turning to her with a wicked grin.

“You have a child.”

It felt as though all the oxygen had been sucked out of the room, Y/n momentarily forgetting how to breathe. Her mouth felt dry, her body numb. Schlatt laughed, knowing he had her right where he wanted her.

“Fundy’s actually your son! Biologically and everything! And you never told him, you just left!” Schlatt exclaimed.

Y/n burst forwards, slamming Schlatt against the wall and lodging her forearm across his throat. She spoke with a low, dangerous voice. “I was young. I was stupid. And I wasn’t ready to be a mother. I couldn’t be the mother he needed.”

“So you left. And then you come back and you play the part of his mother, while the poor boy thinks your lover fucked a fish? That’s fucked up, Y/n.” He chuckled lowly.

Y/n pursed her lips, glaring into Schlatt’s eyes. “What do you want?”

Schlatt slowly removed Y/n’s forearm from his throat. “I want you to join me as one of my officials. I want you to betray Wilbur and Tommy. And if you don’t…”

“… I tell Fundy your big secret… and then I personally kill him until he’s dead.”

Y/n felt completely and absolutely defeated. She had never let someone have the upper hand on her. Not like this. She remained distraughtly silent, Schlatt nodding Ashe received his answer.

He reached into his pocket, throwing her comm device onto the floor. “Lover boy’s been trying to call you for weeks. You should call him back one last time and tell him to never call again. You know what’s at stake.” Schlatt then turned and walked towards the door. “I’ll have a fine pressed suit for you tomorrow morning and a more comfortable room, then the real work begins. Goodnight, Y/n.”

And he was gone.

Y/n fell to her knees, her body shaking with fear and guilt. Why did she have to be so stupid why did she have to create such deep-sewn weaknesses, why did she leave her son?

She reached for the comms device, her trembling fingers clicking a button as she spoke out in a terrified whisper. “Wilbur?”

—

The meeting…

Y/n hated parties with a passion she could not fathom. The celebration of another war won, a country saved. She was just a wandering soldier, moving from one battle to the next, finding celebration a little tone-deaf.

But nonetheless she stood in the banquet hall, her sash of medals and patches detailing her great accomplishments hung on her frame, with the world’s most uncomfortable dress covering her. Technoblade had told Y/n to liven up, drink and dance a little, though what a fucking hypocrite because he didn’t show up.

Y/n sipped her champagne, leaning against the bar top, a bored expression laid across her face as she traced circles into the wood with her finger. She didn’t register the boy standing next to her, eying her with curiosity before he spoke up. “One vodka neat, please.”

She finally indulged to meet his gaze, the tall brunette smiling and offering his hand. “Wilbur Soot.”

Y/n knocked back the rest of her champagne, before shaking his hand. “Y/n L/n.”

“You seem bored, Y/n L/n.” Wilbur observed.

She scoffed. “Parties aren’t really my thing.”

“So I can tell.” He quipped, Y/n beginning to question the audacity of this kid. But he just smiled widely, pulling a stool and sitting next to her.

“Look, I don’t know what you want, but if it’s getting in my pants tonight it’s definitely not happening.” Y/n bluntly responded.

“Woah there! Take me out to dinner before we discuss that.” Wilbur defended, retrieving his drink from the bartender.

Y/n couldn’t even tell if the man was joking, but she rolled her eyes anyways. He was silent, she could tell he was trying to size her up. Figure out what made her brain tick, how to read her.

Must be frustrating for him to know he can’t.

She sighed, pulling away from the bar top, smoothing out her despised dress. “Well, thanks for the chat Wilbur, but I’d best be going.”

“Of course. Have a good night, Y/n.” Wilbur raised his drink and tipped it towards her in a kind of toasting or saluting gesture. She was a high ranked militia official anyways.

Y/n nodded and walked away, Wilbur watching her as she left. What she didn’t know, was he could read her like an open book. He saw her pain, her guilt, her stone disposition. But he saw her kindness, her generosity, her beauty. Wilbur was intoxicated by the mere presence of her, and her mystery.

Wilbur just had a gut feeling they’d cross paths again. And when they did, maybe in a space she was more comfortable than the loud and cheering party, maybe he’d offer her a drink, or even a dance. The boy slammed his drink on the table before standing, and rushing across the room.

Why wait when you know?

Y/n felt a gentle hand on her wrist, the girl turning to see Wilbur. She raised an eyebrow in question as he released his soft grip, and held his palm flat out in front of her. “May I have this dance.”

She had seen years of pretty boys offering her drinks and dances and the world. Each disappointed, each never following through. But Y/n looked up at Wilbur, and she could see the world in his brown eyes, she could see hope and chivalry and mirth. She pursed her lips, the boy seeming to deflate at her monotone and silent response.

Y/n took his hand, to the boy’s surprise. “One dance. That’s all.”

They danced all night. And laughed all night, more than Y/n had in years.

Y/n had never felt more alive than the night she met Wilbur Soot.

#wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot imagine #wilbur soot imagines #wilbur x reader #wilbur soot x y/n #dream smp imagines #dream smp imagine #dream smp x reader #dsmp imagine #dsmp imagines #dsmp x reader #c!wilbur soot x reader

112 notes · View notes

along-came-atsushi · 3 years

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Parallels between 55 Minutes and Dead Apple

While reading 55 Minutes a while ago, I realized that its story and Dead Apple had some interesting parallels or shared the same ideas.

Looking at certain scenes in the Dead Apple novel, some parallels became even more apparent. Sometimes, even the same or similar words were used.

I don’t think there is a deeper meaning behind this honestly, but I find it interesting to point out nonetheless.

[Side Note: 55 Minutes was released in 2016, while the novel for the Dead Apple movie was released in 2018. 55 Minutes was written by Asagiri Kafka, while he only collaborated with others for the story of Dead Apple. The novel itself was written by Hiro Iwahata.]

Beware: Major spoilers for 55 Minutes and Dead Apple!

1. Weapon or abilities described as red heat or red sphere

55 Minutes: The main threat is a weapon called “The Shell” that upon activating, covers Standard Island and Yokohama in a red heat wave, vaporizing all life:

The sky was dyed red. […] Red. Everything was red—the ocean, the island, even Yokohama at the other end of the horizon.

“That’s the Shell.” The terrorist briskly walked over to Atsushi. “The crimson celestial sphere of annihilation.”

The crimson dome burned like a small star that had fallen upon the earth with an extraordinary amount of heat locked inside. The fiery enclosure rapidly imploded. The heat rushing towards its core.

Dead Apple: Abilities collected by Shibusawa are described as red crystals. Upon merging two abilities together by Dazai, they turn into a red apple/sphere:

The two lights melted into one and spun until they formed a single sphere. They had produced a single apple—a juicy, poisoned apple red as blood. […]

The apple swelled as it absorbed numerous crystals until the red light became hotter than the surface of hell.

A hellish red light radiated as a violent wind gusted from the giant sphere.

-> After this Shibusawa gets “killed” by Fyodor, turns into a dragon and releases a red fog that is about to cover the whole earth and turn it into the so-called dead apple.

2. Allusion to Odasaku and Ango

55 Minutes: It’s been revealed that the Colonel who wanted to activate The Shell was the former mentor of Gide, the leader of Mimic. By activating The Shell, he wanted to state an example and for the truth about Mimic to be revealed. He blames himself for not being able to stop his former subordinates back then. Dazai remembers the Mimic Incident and with it, of course, the painful memories of Odasaku and Ango:

“You won’t find anything,” Dazai suddenly said while turning his gaze out the window. “The Division made sure to completely cover it up. You won’t find any records of their [Mimic] deaths, nor will you even find a single photo accidentally taken of them […]. The Division is good at jobs like that, after all.” […]

But Dazai didn’t say a word as he stared at a point in the sky with an elbow resting on the table. It was as if his eyes weren’t focused on the scenery outside, but were watching vivid memories playing back in his mind.

“I feel bad for the colonel, but there’s no reason to dig up the past and disclose to the public what happened to them,” Dazai revealed in a flat voice. “They died satisfied. Now is their time to rest.”

-> Even though Ango and Odasaku aren’t directly mentioned, it’s still clear from the context and Dazai’s reaction.

Dead Apple: Dazai visits the Bar Lupin, the former usual meeting point of him and his two friends:

He was in his usual spot—the seat next to Odasaku’s—and he was talking to the empty space next to him as if Odasaku were still here.

“What’ll we toast to today?”

“You’re not gonna wait for Ango to get here?”

Dazai could practically hear his friend’s voice.

That used to be routine, but now it was all in the past—never to return.

“…Ango isn’t coming,” Dazai replied to Odasaku’s casual remark from years ago. So many things had changed since then. Odasaku was no longer by his side, and Ango didn’t come to this pub anymore. Dazai sat at the counter alone. He was waiting for no one.

-> Apparently these memories are still so vivid to Dazai that he can play them like a movie in his head, as it is described in both scenes.

3. Ability/Ability User that is able to absorb other abilities

55 Minutes: Verne’s ability “The Mysterious Island” is revealed to absorb every ability from all the people who have died there. After his own ability took over Verne and transformed into its own lifeform, Gab is still able to do the same:

It was an extremely rare skill. Its range extended across the island he claimed as his domain, and it absorbed all the skills of the people who died there.

Well’s skill wouldn’t allow the same person to return to the past more than once, but if Verne used his skill to keep stealing hers, he would always be using the skill for the first time.

Dead Apple: Shibusawa collects user’s abilities, once they die in a fight against them, which is similar to absorbing abilities, even though the technique is a little bit different:

“Each one of these is a skill, huh?” Dazai muttered coldly as he looked at the wall. “That’s a huge collection you got yourself.”

The apple appeared in Dazai’s hand and gently rose to the ceiling before stopping. It birthed a skill—an extremely powerful one at that—the ability to absorb.

In other words, Shibusawa was finally able to obtain Dazai’s skill through killing him.

4. Dazai gets stabbed from behind by the main antagonist

55 Minutes: Dazai gets stabbed by Gab:

Dazai froze as if the rest of his sentence had been plucked clean off. And the tip of a blade was now sticking out of his chest. […] Dazai tried to turn around, but whoever was behind him pushed the knife deeper inside him and twisted it. […] With his arm stuck out, he turned slightly to the side before folding and crumpling to the ground.

Dead Apple: Dazai gets stabbed by Shibusawa:

Right as Dazai reached for the massive photosphere […] something struck him in the back. […] His eyes opened wide. He could feel a burning pin shoot through his chest. [...]

Standing behind him was Tatsuhiko Shibusawa, […] In his hand was a knife that glowed dully as it pierced Dazai’s back. […] Dazai then collapsed.

5. Dazai as an obstacle for the main antagonist

55 Minutes: Gab needs to kill Dazai, so that he can’t nullify him with his skill:

Gab’s natural enemy—Dazai—worked at the detective agency. Dazai nullified all skills he touched. […] However, if Dazai was to touch flesh, he [Gab] would cease to exist. […]

For Gab, the threat of Dazai’s skill was equivalent to having a knife shoved into his throat. There was only one way to remove the threat—kill Dazai so that his skill wouldn’t activate.

Dead Apple: Shibusawa kills Dazai not only to obtain his ability, but also because Dazai had been nullifying his fog:

“There is no next move. I already found the skill I was searching for.” Shibusawa lightly gestured to him with an open hand. “Yours.”

Shibusawa’s eyes gleefully lit up as he gazed down at Dazai on the floor. “From the very start. You were the only one I was after.”

Shibusawa’s fog had the power to separate skills from their owners. Up until now, Dazai’s skill had been nullifying its effect, but it stopped working the moment he died.

6. Dazai sharing or revealing something about himself to Atsushi

55 Minutes: Dazai says why he wants to kill himself:

“Dazai,” Atsushi said from behind him, “why do you want to kill yourself?” Dazai turned around and looked at Atsushi. It was his usual smile − a cheerful smirk that made him impossible to read. Dazai slightly opened his eyes as if to say, “Oh yeah. I guess I haven’t told you yet.” He grinned and answered:

“Because I .”

What did Dazai say that day? The more I try to remember, the further these distant memories sink into the glow of the evening sun.

-> It’s unknown why Atsushi can’t remember Dazai’s answer. Maybe it was too shocking, maybe he simply just didn’t hear it properly. Maybe this whole conversation never happened and it was just a fever dream. For now, it is up to interpretation.

Dead Apple: Dazai talks about Odasaku and admits he had killed during his mafia time:

“So…” Atsushi spoke up as Dazai idly daydreamed. “Was this someone you used to be in love with, or…?” […]

“…He was a friend of mine,” Dazai added quietly. […] “He’s the reason I quit the Port Mafia and joined the agency. I’d probably still be killing people for the mafia if it wasn’t for him.”

Atsushi was baffled. He had no idea whether that was true. What did Dazai mean by that? Curious, Atsushi turned around to face Dazai, but all he could see was his back.

-> In both scenes it’s described as Atsushi standing behind Dazai or seeing his back, which could empathize that he can’t see through Dazai or be sure about his true feelings (and in addition every other character in-universe as well as the reader). Furthermore it could also symbolize that Dazai hides his true feelings. This is accompanied by an illustration in the novel. But there is also a scene in the manga where Atsushi thinks about the ADA members with Dazai’s back turned to him:

7. Akutagawa as a guidance or motivator for Atsushi

55 Minutes: Atsushi and Akutagawa are both restrained by Gab’s ability and can’t move. Akutagawa already tried to break free, but his ability is physically too thin to cut through Gab’s.

Akutagawa then “kills” Atsushi in order to awaken his tiger power, since the latter doubts himself of being capable enough. Later he assists and assures Atsushi in defeating Gab:

“Tch. Akutagawa clicked his tongue. “Then it appears your fists are the only things that will work.”

He was right. Atsushi’s tiger fists would be big enough to land a blow. But as long as his arms were stuck… […] Atsushi used all the muscle he had to break free, but he still couldn’t pull his body out. He didn’t even budge.

“Do you understand that? There are things I can do that you cannot.” The wind howled. Akutagawa’s dark blade pierced Atsushi’s throat.

A tiger roared. Atsushi responded. […] His body went through an unworldly transformation. He had to move forward. If he didn’t understand, then he had to find out why. […]

“Good,” said a voice. “Now hurry. Do not waste my time, Man-Tiger.

But out of nowhere, a black fabric appeared underneath, stretching from the surface. It became a platform for him [Atsushi] to stand on and support his weight. Quietly looking up at Atsushi from the surface was Akutagawa. His gaze quietly said, “Finish it. Bring him peace.”

Dead Apple: Akutagawa withholds information to Atsushi on purpose, about why he isn’t able to regain his ability despite having defeated it:

“You fool,” spewed Akutagawa. “Have you seriously not figured it out yet?!” […]

“Akutagawa!” Atsushi screamed in spite of himself. “What’s that supposed to mean?! Answer me!”

But Akutagawa didn’t look back. He simply disappeared into the fog as he headed toward the fortress.

Why…? Why…?! Why am I the only one who doesn’t get it?!

-> Although it’s noteworthy that Kyouka does the same, with high probability for the same reasons (Atsushi having to figure it out by himself).

8. Atsushi is forced to kill a dangerous, unnatural existence

This is very interesting in the way it’s been build up in both cases. First the antagonist is described as an existence that is not natural (1), then their motive gets explained (2), Atsushi shows up, saying why their actions are wrong or what he’s about to do (3), and then the deaths of the antagonists are described as some form of salvation (4):

55 Minutes:

(1) The island’s skill rid itself of Verne’s personality and robbed him of his flesh. That was when the living skill Gab was born.

(2) What made him different from Verne was his reason. The guardian of the island, Verne, wanted to save everyone. Gab, on the other hand, didn’t care whether people died.

(3) “But you can’t separate humans and their skills. The reason you want friends is nothing more than a reminder from when you once where human. […]”

(4) Right as his fist was about to connect…

------I owe ya one.

…he heard the young man’s [Verne] voice.

-> The last stage (4) gets even more underlined with Akutagawa assuring Atsushi by saying “Bring him peace”, as cited above.

Dead Apple:

(1) Tatsuhiko Shibusawa had been reborn as a skill-like life-form—a divine being that wielded the power of the dragon.

(2) But his wish was still the same. He wanted to drive Atsushi into a corner so he could experience even more pain and torture than he did six years ago. This was a natural conclusion for Shibusawa to reach, for he believed that life was at its strongest and most beautiful when it was being pushed over the edge.

(3) “Here to kill me again, Atsushi Nakajima?” asked Shibusawa. […]

“I’m just sending something back to where it belongs,” he replied.

(4) “…I understand everything now. I know why you’re here, why you appeared before me, and what his words truly meant. You are the angel who will save me…”

-> Even before turning into a dragon beast, Shibusawa was already an undead being, and thus an unnatural existence.

9. Abilities are described as sentient beings or something that can turn against the user

55 Minutes: Gab separated himself from Verne and took over his body:

While traveling into the past, the skill got stronger, transformed, and eventually grew to have a will of its own.

However, Gab’s consciousness was less stable compared with humans.

Dead Apple: Ability users have their abilities taken away and are forced to fight against them to get them back:

It was Kunikida’s skill, The Matchless Poet. […] He had a good idea how his skill was going to attack, seeing as it was part of him once. He also knew that, unlike his notebook, the phantom’s notebook had the word Compromise written on the cover. A copy of himself that didn’t follow ideals but made compromises was an abomination to Kunikida.

Lastly, there is also the topic of Dazai set as a motivator for Atsushi and Akutagawa and their bickering about what is right or wrong in regards to him. But since that happens often between them, I didn’t include it here.

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ahkaahshi · 4 years

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so good to me [akaashi keiji x reader]

pairing: akaashi keiji x fem reader

genre: smut (18+) with a hint of fluff

warning(s): explicit sexual content, quirofilia, breath play, light dumbification, swearing, fingering, dirty talk

word count: 3.2k

overview: baking cupcakes ends up being a bit more challenging than you’d originally anticipated when you keep finding yourself distracted by your handsome boyfriend’s pretty hands.

It’s almost poetic, you think: the way your boyfriend’s fingers dance along his laptop’s keyboard. Even though he’s sending a rather heated email to a coworker who’s fallen short on his work, you can’t help but find yourself mesmerized at the sight of his long, slender digits tapping away rhythmically, only pausing every now and then to find just the right word to use to purvey his displeasure in an appropriate manner. In fact, you’re so entranced by watching the tendons in his hands shift with each movement of his fingers that you don’t even realize you’ve neglected your ingredient measuring duties until his voice interrupts you.

“Sorry, do you need the recipe again?” he asks, drawing your (e/c) gaze to his slate blue one that glows behind the screen’s reflection on his glasses.

Quickly, you shake your head and brush a strand of (h/c) hair away from your face. “We can start when you’re done. It’s okay.” The small smile that graces your features has him leaning down to peck your temple gently.

“I’ll be done in a minute.”

Pleasant tingles travel down your back at feeling his lips brush against your skin as they form the gentle reassurance he speaks. To busy yourself in a productive manner while he finishes up his email, you wander around the kitchen to fetch any bakeware you see missing from the island’s wooden countertop—including a muffin pan. A glance at the time displayed in sharp, blue lines on the stove reminds you just how much earlier in the day you should’ve started baking treats for the small gathering of former Fukuroudani team members you’d offered to host. Akaashi seems to sense your concern, since he hurries to finish his message before opening the tab with the recipe you intend to follow and washing his hands.

As the two of you set to combining and mixing ingredients according to the cupcake recipe on his screen, you find it challenging to keep your daydreams at bay and your attention on your own tasks. Each time his hands dart into your workspace for another utensil, your gaze follows them and your mind floods with thoughts that quickly become less than innocent.

Every glide of his fingers along his laptop’s trackpad makes you wish they were tracing along every inch of your body instead, setting your skin ablaze with his touch. Each time they wrap around the base of the stand mixer he’s using to agitate a bowl of creamy contents, you feel your throat tighten in anticipation as your mind conjures hazy memories of his gentle pressure around your neck. His occasional—and almost curious—grazes of the veins beneath the fair skin on his arms remind you of each time you’d decorated them with small crescents as you clutched onto him while feverishly chanting his name. Watching him work is both delightful and maddening.

And it becomes even more of a challenge to slow your racing heart when you notice his fingers dip into the bowl of frosting he’s whipped up to collect some on his fingertips. Experimentally, he tastes his creation, the thoughtful expression on his features soon easing as he gives it an approving nod. Upon noticing that your full attention is on him, he gestures towards the bowl and offers, “Try some. See if you like it.”

Your heart flutters in your chest as you suggest, “Could you get some for me? My hands are all covered in flour.”

For the record, they’re not, and your observant boyfriend knows this, but entertains you anyway. It’s almost shameful, the way your mouth begins watering when his fingers drag through the fluffy, white topping to gather another dollop on the tips, but you can’t help yourself. Not when you know just how much sweeter the sample will taste when delivered to you by his digits rather than your own. He seems to understand at least a sliver of the thoughts racing through your mind, since he utters a gentle command that brings your thighs together beneath the cover of your apron.

“Open.”

Obediently, you let your jaw slacken so he can move his fingers between your soft lips to spread the sugary frosting across your tastebuds. His unwavering gaze narrows ever so slightly when you move your face closer to his knuckle, taking the entirety of his two fingers into your mouth and dragging your tongue along the smooth expanse of his skin. That quiet groan you can barely hear rumbling in his throat is both a warning and a challenge—letting you know that you’re playing with fire but also questioning just how badly you want to get burned. Solidifying your decision of wanting to play this teasing game with him, you suck on his fingers with enough pressure to create a loud pop when you remove them from your mouth by pulling away.

Judging by the low tone in his voice when he speaks, your intentions have been made crystal clear and he’s not going to let you get away with what you’ve done. “I should’ve known, huh?” You furrow your eyebrows in slight confusion at his words, but he elaborates, “With the way you’ve been watching me since before we even started baking. So simple-minded, sometimes, aren’t you, baby?” A gentle tap against your protruding lower lip brings your attention to the fact that you’re pouting, and you quickly take it between your teeth. “Can’t even do something as easy as following a recipe for cupcake batter because you’re too busy thinking about making a mess all over my fingers. Is that right?”

Your breath hitches in your throat when his palm moves to the side of your neck, just beneath your jawbone. “Keiji,” you whimper softly, feeling unbearably hot under his touch all of a sudden. His cool thumb tracing over your warm skin hardly provides any relief, and only intensifies the temperature of the heat pooling in the pit of your stomach.

“Finish up,” he commands gently, placing his other hand on your hip to guide you back towards the bowl of ingredients you’ve yet to finish mixing. He grabs the hand mixer resting on the counter nearby that you’d taken out earlier before placing the device into the palm of your slightly quivering hand. At your hesitation, he urges, “Go on. I would hate to have to tell everyone that dessert wasn’t ready because my girlfriend was too distracted by wanting me to fuck her stupid on my fingers, of all things.”

Another pitiful whine escapes your mouth, but you turn the mixer on and place it in the bowl in front of you to complete the task you’d originally set yourself to. The sensation of his fingers ghosting along the exposed skin on your neck before making their way down to your hips and holding onto them firmly from where he stands behind you makes your core ache. His warmth against the entire backside of your body has you using every fiber of self-control to prevent yourself from abandoning your job and throwing your arms around him. However, you know that no matter how much you want him, he won’t feed into any of your desires until the contents of the bowl have been poured into the muffin pan and safely tucked away inside the warmth of the oven, so you diligently work on taking things one step at a time—since that’s all you can muster, anyway.

“Good girl,” he praises gently when you finish mixing, his breath falling on the shell of your ear, “You always work better when you’re told what to do, don’t you?” Silently, you nod. Both of you know that your intelligence is much higher than he’s currently giving you credit for, but you love the pleasure you reap from assuming the role of his dumb, little girlfriend in situations like this. Pretending as if you didn’t know better or couldn’t perform without being told what to do always gave you a bit of a thrill—which he knew all too well. He didn’t mind, since he had never been a stranger to assuming control.

“In the oven for twenty minutes. Be careful not to burn yourself, sweetheart.”

His gunmetal gaze follows your figure as you shuffle over to the oven to pull it open so you can slide the tray into its warmth. Once you’ve set it to bake for the appropriate time, you untie your apron and pull it off over your head before grabbing one of his hands and leading him towards the bedroom. However, his refusal to budge takes you by surprise, and you nearly stumble backwards when your movements are stopped.

“Keiji,” you huff, “the rest of our friends are gonna be here soon.”

In an instant that happens too quickly for you to be able to process anything, you’re being pulled towards him moments before you find your back pressed against one of the walls in the kitchen. Your (e/c) eyes are wide with shock but clouded by a thin veil of lust as you stare into his own, which you find are watching you as calmly as ever. “I know,” he states, “So why don’t we take care of things right here, then?” Though his words are phrased as a question, the intonation of his voice along with the way his hand is slowly sliding up your shirt reveal otherwise. He’s not asking.

The intensity of his gaze makes your heart pound erratically against your ribcage and draws you closer to him in spite of his strong presence keeping your back flush against the cool wall. After he brings his face down towards yours to capture your lips in a gentle kiss, it’s hard for you to keep track of everything that happens next. His fingers dancing along the expanse of bare skin from your waist to your lacy bralette beneath your shirt has you melting into his touch, and his passionate kisses are soon taking your breath away. His fingertips skimming over the dainty fabric separating them from your nipples makes you squirm and tighten your grasp around him.

“Come here,” he whispers, placing his arm around your back and guiding you into the center of the kitchen. Grabbing one of the chairs at the other side of the island, he drags it behind him so he can take a seat and beckon you to do the same. When you sit down on his lap facing him, he shakes his head and insists, “Turn around.”

With your back to him this time, you slide back onto the seat, perching between his legs. As his hands work their way up to your breasts, sliding underneath the lace so they can cup your soft, plush skin and roll your nipples between his fingers, you let out a soft moan and focus your gaze on the warm glow of the light inside the oven just a few feet away from where you’re sitting. In the faint reflection on the smooth surface of the glass, yours and Akaashi’s forms are barely visible, and you can’t help but watch as he slides one of his palms along your thighs, pausing to give them a firm squeeze every now and then.

“Please, Keiji,” you breathe, placing your hand over his and guiding it to the waistband of the lounge shorts you’re wearing, “want your fingers inside me.”

He hums, “I know you do, baby,” as he toys with the elastic before pushing it away from your hips and down your legs as far as he can reach. You hear a small chuckle bubble in his throat when you hastily rid yourself of the garment, leaving only one more layer between his long fingers and your aching core. “It’s all you’ve been thinking about. It’s all you can think about.”

You nod in agreement, desperate to do or say anything that’ll get him to move with just a bit more urgency to alleviate your discomfort. Heat spreads across your skin in a powerful wave when his other palm comes to rest on the base of your throat. His fingers slowly making their way up and around your neck, gently pulling you back against his chest while his other digits toy with the edge of your panties makes your pussy throb needily. Before you can beg for him another time, though, he’s dipping beneath the flimsy material to trail his fingertips from your already soaking entrance to your clit.

A loud moan of appreciation echoes from between your lips as Akaashi presses his to your jawline. “Take your panties off for me.” His command has your own fingers skittering down to your hips to shed the material as quickly as possible and you ignore the rush of cold air you feel between your legs at being fully exposed. The reflection in the oven’s window is too unclear for you to tell if he’s watching you the same way you’re watching yourself, but, in the bright lights of the kitchen, you can see your slick shining on his fingertips as he spreads it along your sex.

Your small whimpers and mewls begin steadily increasing in volume as he slides his index finger over your pearl in short, tantalizing strokes that leave you wanting more. And while he enjoys every sound that leaves your mouth, littering your skin with gentle kisses as encouragement, he tightens his grasp around your throat, restricting your airflow in the gentlest manner possible. It’s clear, after your countless experiences with breath play in the bedroom, that he knows exactly how much pressure to use to keep you safe and comfortable, yet make you feel restrained and excited.

As he digs his digits into the tender skin around your neck, your cries of pleasure become more labored and your chest heaves with deeper breaths. He’s careful and understanding of your body, loosening his grip slightly whenever he feels the muscles surrounding your throat straining too excessively, and tightening it again when he hears more of your desperate pleas. Safety and respect for you are always his first priorities, no matter what games you’re playing or kinks you’re experimenting with, and knowing he’ll always take care of you is what makes you melt into his arms and clutch onto him tightly as he pleasures you.

“Keiji!” Another cry of his name rolls off your tongue when he finally plunges his fingers inside of your hot core, which welcomes him with a wet squelch. Each thrust of his digits into you, edging them closer and closer to your most sensitive area has you moaning unabashedly with desire. “Faster, please!” He ignores your request and continues sliding them in and out at a controlled speed. “Please, Keiji, I wanna cum. I want you to make me cum,” you plead with an exasperated exhale.

Without warning, the hand on your neck releases so he can shove his fingers into your half-open mouth, making you squeal with surprise. “It looks like you forgot that you’re only allowed to take orders, not give them, silly girl,” he murmurs, pressing his mouth against the shell of your ear so his voice is the only thing you can hear, “Who’s in charge right now, hmm?”

With his fingers depressing your tongue and quickly filling your mouth with saliva, you slur out his name as best as you can. The proximity of his face to yours makes you hyperaware of each breath and utterance that leaves his lips, as well as the heat they send skittering across your skin.

“That’s right,” he answers, “So, be a good girl and let me make you feel good, okay? Promise I will.”

He takes a soft sigh and lack of complaints from you as a sign of you relinquishing control to him once more and pecks your temple tenderly in response. As he continues pleasuring your needy pussy with his fingers, those he has in your mouth muffle the cries you utter in response to the sensations that you’ve been craving all day. It’s not long before you notice your own saliva start trailing down his wrist, glittering in the lights above as you as it leaves a slick path along the soft ridges of his veins and tendons in its slow-moving wake. His thumb pressing against your sensitive clit as he kneads the spongy region inside of you with his index and middle fingers returns you to the moment once again, and your breathing gradually becomes more labored as you grind your hips against him, desperate for release.

Soon, a rush of euphoria overtakes your body as you finally fall apart at his fingers alone. He lightens the pressure he’s exerting on your tongue just enough for his name to be fully formed when it leaves your mouth in breathy cries, since there’s nothing he loves more than hearing it chanted like it’s the only word in your vocabulary in the heat of your orgasms. He hums with contentment into your neck, nipping gently at the skin there as he lets you use his fingers to ride out your high.

You’re barely allowed a moment of rest following your release before the timer for the oven beeps harshly, bringing you back to reality more abruptly than you would’ve liked. Slowly, you close your legs, and Akaashi keeps his hand nestled in your warmth for what feels to be a long stretch of time before pulling it away from your sensitive core. A lighthearted chuckle echoes from his mouth when he tries to move only to have you slump against him and whine with indignation.

Before he can speak, the sound of the doorbell ringing alerts both of you to the arrival of your guests, and your gaze darts to him, then to your shorts and panties strewn across the tiled floor. “Of course, they decide to be right on time today, of all days,” he growls, placing his hands on your waist to help you stand up so you can make yourself decent.

“Kou’s probably excited about the cupcakes,” you giggle as you slide the discarded clothes back up your legs while Akaashi washes his hands. Once you’re dressed, you approach your boyfriend and give him and affectionate kiss that he returns appreciatively. Another chime of the doorbell forces the two of you to pull away so that he can retrieve the cupcakes from the oven and attend to your impatient guests. “Need help with anything?”

He smiles sweetly but answers, “Not now. You can go ahead and get ready,” before giving you a gentle pat on the rear to send you off down the hall.

“Hey, Keiji?”

“Yes, my love?”

You bite your lip before suggesting, “Once everyone leaves tonight, how about I put on that cute lingerie set you got for me and wait in the bedroom for you on my knees?”

“Fuck, baby,” he breathes, “I would love that.” As you prance down the hallway to the bedroom while he approaches the front door, the words you hear him add in a hushed tone make your heart flutter in your chest: “Always so good to me.”

treat me to a coffee! ⭐︎ kinktober masterlist

taglists (see pinned post on my blog for form)

general: @dinablossom, @newfriendjen, @devlovesramen, @ohbyunhunn, @aftcrlust, @mister-future, @kyleclxin, @kac-chowsballs, @osamusmiya

akaashi: @why-aminot-dead, @lotsoffandomrecs, @atsunakaashi, @heyhinata

#ahkaahshi gets wild #akaashi keiji x reader #ahkaahshi's mini kinktober 2020 #haikyuu smut #akaashi smut #akaashi x reader #haikyuu x reader #x reader #reader insert #haikyuu fanfiction #tw breath play #tw dumbification #fran writes hq!!

645 notes · View notes

ohmysparkle · 3 years

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🔮 A New Arrival 🔮

✨ Spellbound: Prologue

Series Masterlist

✨ Pairing: Hyunjin x reader

✨ Length: 2.9k

✨ Warnings: none in this chapter

✨ Tag List: @xviternity @straykisz @97lovestay @aliceu @meow-minho @velvetand-roses

✧･ﾟ🌑: *✧🌙 . *⭐️:*✧✨* : ･ﾟ✧ *.🌑 ✧･ﾟ

A dainty young secretary in a stylish little skirted suit dashes down a hallway towards an office, holding a telephone receiver in her hand, careful that the wire doesn’t snag behind her lest her boss get upset. Afterall, he’s been waiting for this for quite some time.

Knock, knock, knock!

“Yes?” A sharp voice calls out on the other side of the heavy wooden doors. She opens one wide.

“Mr. Mayor! They’re on the line for you!” She urges.

“Damn time, Alyssa! Come in, hurry up and bring your notebook!” He shouts. The secretary dashes back to her desk and grabs her notepad, looking back to the Mayor’s office to see if he’s connected to the line before she hangs the receiver. She dashes back, little heels clicking on the glossy floor.

“Speaker.” She insists to the mayor, urging so that he presses the button in time for her to hear the person on the other line answer. His neat mustache wiggles before he gives a stern “Hello.” for whoever is on the line.

“Hello, this is the Old Zealand Office of Coordination for the Association of Guilds, Clans and other Specialists on Magical, Supernatural and Paranormal Affairs, also known as SMSPA Central. This is Ezra, Lead Coordinator, speaking. What may I help you with today?” Both the Mayor and his assistant quirk eyebrows at the upbeatness of the man's way of speaking, and the mayor clears his throat before his focus escapes him.

“Ezra, good man! This is Mayor Armand Brandywine speaking from Nocturne Town, from the League of Lake Towns… Uh, calling because, hmm… I believe Ezra, it’s been two months-“

“Nocturne, Nocturne, Nocturne… hmm?” Ezra ponders, measuring the familiarity of the name - “Oh yes! The Ponies! I saw your Towns in a travel magazine just last week! My wife has insisted we go over to the League for our anniversary, she says apparently the great lakes over there are crystal clear, and that there are hills full of flowers and quaint little towns pocketed beneath, and that you use the most darling trains and ferries to move about. And the semi-annual pony contest!”

“I - yes, well - we do. Listen Ezra, as I was saying… it’s been four months since we filed an official request to have a specialist come here to help with a witch problem…”

“A witch?!” Ezra exclaims in disbelief, “A witch way out there? No way, you’re not even close to any of our mildly risky areas… there’s hardly any magical activity on your continent. Are you sure it’s a ‘bad’ witch?”

“Yes, positive.”

“Like a ‘sold her soul’ to the devil kind of witch? Or ‘weird lady who lives in the woods and smokes a pipe that makes people sort of uncomfortable but is actually really harmless’ kind of witch?” He questions.

“The former.” Armand replies flatly, giving Alyssa a look.

“Bad?” Ezra confirms.

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“And to whom did you submit your request with this claim?” Ezra continues asking.

“To a mister…” Armand looks at Alyssa.

“Zachary Z.” Alyssa whispers, clearly mouthing out the name.

“It was addressed to a Mr. Zachary, I believe he was the liaison for this region.” Armand states.

“Oh no…” Ezra does not say anything after this exclamation, and again, Alyssa and Armand share a look throughout that moment of silence.

“Oh… no?” Armand asks after uncomfortably expecting Ezra’s reply..

“Yes, ‘oh no’... you see, Zack was on a field assignment a few months ago and… well, he died. He was assessing if a local pyromancer had become a danger worthy of sending a specialist.”

“Oh.” Armand mouths to Alyssa, with her silently making the same gesture.

“We wouldn’t have any record of his assignments - he had his suitcase with him when he burned.” Ezra continued.

“Oh!” Alyssa silently exclaimes, again, crossing wide eyes with her boss, both of their faces contorting into grimaces.

“Oh poor Zack… He burned, suitcase and all…” Ezra reminisces. Armand is at a loss of words in the awkwardness of it all until the man on the other end bounces back. “So anyways, tell me about this witch of yours to see if I can help. When were the first and last reported sightings? ” Ezra returns to his upbeat, almost musical tone of speaking, having not missed a beat despite the sorrowful interlude.

“Well, you see… no one’s actually seen here. But - “

“Invisibility, you say?! Now that’s something you don’t see often!” Ezra prematurely interrupts, not missing the opportunity for his pun.

“No, no! I mean we haven’t sighted her… yet!” He corrects.

“So you are… placing a request for a specialist… for a witch that is unconfirmed?” Ezra says rather skeptically.

“But, there have been signs! Items, I mean trinkets, of witchcraft appearing in people's homes, dead animals stuffed with tokens…” the Mayor explains.

“Don’t forget the symbols!” Alyssa urgently whispers.

“And symbols! Runes! Painted on people's doors and under their beds!” Just as if he were visiting a skeptical doctor, Mayor Brandywine made the symptoms seem as serious as he could in fear that he would not be taken seriously.

“Hmm… could just be a prankster… any other proof? Any bewitchings? Hexes? Evident signs of curses or dark magic?”

“Well… people have dreamt of the same faceless woman, but I’m afraid we can't prove anything.”

“Well, in that case, it might be difficult to process a request on the basis of a witch. Besides, if there really is a witch, and she’s not actively harming the population, it might be better to just… let her be.” Ezra muses.

“Let her be?!” Alysaa mouths to Armand, which he repeats verbatim to Ezra on the line with emphasis on his outrage.

“Well, yeah, I mean… ‘evil’ and ‘bad’ are both pretty wide scopes. Maybe, if you think about it, witches are almost still human. Just think of her as a bad neighbor. Sometimes it’s more bothersome to deal with them and confront them than to simply let them be” Ezra suggests.

“Wait! Hold on, hold on! Can’t you at least send us someone to evaluate the situation? Maybe one of those fancy Black Knights?”

“Ha! Black Knights, ha! Get a load of this guy Zelda, he wants a Black Knight for one witch!” Armand and Alyssa can hear several people laughing on the other end of the line, most likely seated in desks beside Ezra’s. “No way… have you not seen how things are over in Arcadia? Necromancers, lots of real witches that people actually see, all kinds of undead… ha! Good luck trying to find a Black Knight at this rate, they’re all boarded up in their own country. Simply no way. They won’t leave their little civil-war-issue-thingy over there unless it's something serious. Like bad bad bad black magic serious, not ‘maybe a witch’.”

“Fine!” Armand says with an eye roll, “What about an Other Brother, or a Ghost Buster?!”

“Listen to this guy! Are you honestly willing to go beg one of those associations for an unconfirmed witch?”

“Alright, alright… What about one of those Arctic Druids?”

“No! No! Simply no! We do not work with those people anymore, they are way too fond of human sacrifice. No!” He firmly refutes.

“Then who the hell can deal with a witch?” Armand asks in exasperation, still communicating with Alyssa in silent glances.

“Oh we’ve got a handful of people available… but not for your case, seeing how it is. Hmm… let me think… Are you maybe dealing with anything else?” Brandywine takes advantage of this question to put in complaints that have been more complicated to deal with.

“Yes! Werewolves - plenty of them, and I’m pretty sure someone has been sneaking some bloodusckers into town.” The mayor emphasizes this with a slammed palm on the table.

“Well, Mr. Brandywine, I’m seeing here that some of the towns in the League allow werewolves… hmm.” The sound of flipping papers and heavy slams of stack of folders is clear over the speaker. “But I see here in my records that Nocturne itself is not a ratifying member of the ‘Treatise on the Rights of Magically Affected’ of ‘78, yet I also see that werewolves residents are allowed so long as they adhere to specific medical protocol - which as I see, is being tended to by a Dr. Nemo…”

“Yes but they are a danger to the population! They - they…” the Mayor looks at Alyssa for guidance.

“Say they spend the full moon naked in the woods!” She whispers with fervent urgency and he nods. Bingo!

“They transform without any kind of restraint, running free through town. The woods are like a hunting ground for them, God forbid any innocent happen to roam near there at night. Near feral, I say!” Armand dramatically states.

“Hmm… Well, they should be following medical protocol under the supervision of a trained magical practitioner. I see you have someone assigned,,, a Dr. Nemo? And, these vampires, they are outlawed within your jurisdiction, is that correct? I don’t see any record of any vampiric trespassing, no reported cases or documentation here at all.” Armand worries at Ezra’s skeptical tone, concerned he’ll lose his request.

“It’s that damn Doctor, I tell you!” He finally exclaimes, “I’m sure she’s been bringing in all those vampys under the table. You know what we do to them, they must submit to the authorities to be defanged and treated - that is the law here. Some of those free loving magi hippies on the other Islands may think differently, but everything to the west of me is a Vampire Free Zone.”

“The sirens!” Alyssa quietly interjects.

“And do not get me started on the damn sirens! Zombies too!” Armand concludes.

“Hmm…” Ezra thinks, he has quite a dilemma. According to all records, Mayor Armand Brandywine and several other governors in the League of Lake Towns are quite ‘anti-magic’, not so much the practice of it, but the act of being magical. He isn’t a stranger to getting calls like these, trying to put much needed specialists in situations that are otherwise political, and quite frankly, he was quite clear on not having one of his guys go in to terrorize people.

Ezra considers some of Zachary’s old notes… scribbled on some files in a shared folder. “Mayor Brandywine - staunch anti magi-humanist” meaning, he did not consider magically affected peoples, such as vampires and werewolves, zombies and sirens, to be human at all but instead monsters. Ezra could not allocate a particularly special specialist such as a Black Knight for such a frivolous case. After all, there were greater urgencies elsewhere on his hemisphere. Besides, his organization did not treat such individuals as monsters, he could not give Brandywine what he seemed to suggest he wanted. Monsters, by the standards of the SMSPA, were non-human entities. Enchanted animals and whatnot, ghouls, definitely the incurable undead - so long as they were precisely incurable. He thinks of a possible solution until something catches his eye…

A sheet tucked neatly into the regional folder where Mayor Brandywine’s town’s information was, titled simply “Dr. Nemo - Practitioner of Magical Medicine and Professor of Magical Biology”. Most of the fields were blacked out with ink, a brief description stating that her office was in Nocturne Town, despite the stance of Brandywine, and that she taught a focus course in a magical academy on the other side of the League. Hmm, no picture either, and suspiciously young.

Ezra continued to study the sheet, finding something of particular interest. A stamped red seal that every coordinator in Central knew, but that he had only come across twice before in all of his years of service:

Do not intervene - Tier S approval. The licences assigned to this person were quite… advanced, and quite… obscure. And below… request submitted by the Armed Forces of the League of Lake Towns.

Ah yes, a centralized police and military force for all of the smaller cities and townships in the League. Must be messy, especially considering the polarized stances on magic from the different members on the lake. But why would a magical practitioner require such high level authorization? He’d only seen it used for instances involving Black Knights and the like… never for something as lowly as medical men.

This is definitely one of those hush hush situations, lots of the specialists in his region required anonymity, hid from persecution because of their skills, or ran from some of their previous targets… especially if those individuals worked in the same field as this so-called Dr. Nemo. But this person… he didn’t place them in Nocturne, or else he would have remembered. This must have come from higher up - one of those top secret cases that Zachary would occasionally manage.

It certainly was curious. He held the blacked out form in his hands, retracing the dented letters that pressed this curious name on the paper… Dr. Nemo. Sounded like something out of a book.

“I have… a possible solution.” Ezra finally states, after the Mayor and his assistant had been expectantly leaning into the speaker for some time. “Maybe, perhaps, I can send you someone… Zandor!” Ezra calls to someone who seems to be at a distance from him. “Have we got any newbies?”

“What field?” A voice calls back in the distance.

“Monster hunters.” Ezra specifies.

“We got a class of newbies from that place they sent us that last guy from - the one you sent after that undead bear.” Zandor answers back.

“Gimme!” Ezra orders with a couple of finger snaps, and soon enough Alyssa and Armand hear a heavy folder plop on his desk. “Let’s see here… hmm, quite a few available clansmen… eenie meenie miney mo! Aha! No, not this one… aha!”

Ezra studies the page. The picture is of a young man who looks a bit too young to be in the field. The boy is trained to deal with most issues passively, good references, a bit inexperienced. No reports of excessive force. Mayor Brandywine won't be able to do much harm with the kid’s stats, he thinks, and he’s got good training and just the right licences. Silence again, until Ezra resumes after having studied the file.

“Aha! I’ve got your man. Hmm, and he’s quite a looker! Hyunjin, Hwang Hyunjin. Recently licensed as a tier one monster hunter… deals with all kinds of threatening non-occult entities... authorized to identify threats that are of the occult or ‘other’ nature. Can dispel moderately complex dark magic… transfiguration, discretion, stealth. Sounds good. The boy won’t cost you as much as a Black Knight, that for sure. If you have a werewolf or vampire problem, he can deal, and if you do have a witch, he can send us the claim and we’ll scale it up. How does that sound?”

“Not ideal.” Armand replies with a sigh. “How much does he cost?”

“Hmm…” Ezra presses keys into some kind of machine, “two and ninety seven hundredths of Zealand Zeals per Rupee… fifteen point two Limnian Ponies per… He’s gonna cost you twenty thousand Ponies a month.”

“How much do we have?” Armand quickly whispers to Alyssa.

“We can go up to thirty grand.” She replies. He nods, knowing what part to play.

“Twenty thousand?! We don't have that kind of money!” the Mayor exclaims, putting on the best of his acts. “We can do fifteen!”

Ezra takes a good, long sigh before replying. “Fifteen… and you offer top quality room and board, full, two days a week off, and one day a week for him to take private jobs in the area. He works four days for scheduled items, but will be available 24/7 for emergencies pending his acknowledgment of it actually being an emergency.”

“Deal.” Brandywine quickly affirms, quietly snickering at his accomplishment.

“That being said… I see you only have one other magical specialist in the region, that being this Dr. Nemo. You will make sure Clansman Hwang has access to medical care in the case of any event, and you will make sure he is given a thorough briefing on the area he will service, in this case I am writing his permit to do his work in Nocturne Town, and authorizing him to take up private commissions and attend to emergencies throughout the entire League.”

“Done.”

“Very well Mister Brandywine - “

“Mayor.” He corrects.

“... Mayor Brandywine. You can expect your specialist to arrive in ten days, please be mindful of the documentation and permits he hands you, you will need to keep them safe. Payment instructions will be attached, we collect monthly. For any additional inquiries, feel free to call, and I’d greatly appreciate if you could stay on the line to answer a quick survey if you considered my services satisfactory this day. Thank you for calling Old Zealand Office of Coordination for the Association of Guilds, Clans and other Specialists on Magical, Supernatural and Paranormal Affairs, goodbye.” Ezra’s tone had become flatter, but in view of his dirty victory, Mayor Armand Brandywine did not notice.

The line soon goes dead.

“So… looks like we’ve got a fix to our little problems. Make sure to register the expenses as twenty thousand ponies. Understand?” He says to Alyssa.

“And if it’s not billed in the invoice? They said only fifteen.” She questions.

“Administrative expenses.”

#strange devotion skz collab #straykidsland #hyunjin imagines #hwang hyunjin #stray kids smut #hyunjin au #stray kids fantasy au #stray kids au #hyunjin smut

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pinkoptics · 3 years

Text

Cherik ‘Fallen Angel’ Fic

Part 2 (of Chapter 1)

Find Part 1 (of Chapter 1) here.

Charles is an angel. He loves Erik. He saves Erik. God takes issue with that. Hilarity and adorableness (with a smidge of angst) ensues. In this part, protective!Erik makes an appearance at the hospital.

“I don’t know what his last name is!” Erik growled at the nurse, just barely managing to hold back the ‘fucks’ he wanted to pepper the sentence with. “I wasn’t exactly trying to get all of his info while he was bleeding to death on me.”

Erik released them in his mind— Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. She’s just doing her job. She’s just doing her job. Don’t strangle her with metal.

“I told you,” Erik gritted his teeth and repeated a variation of the same combination of sentences he had already uttered twice. “I was crossing the street. The car barrelled through the red light. He jumped in and saved my life. I tried to return the favour. His name is Charles. He’s cute. I promised to take him to dinner. That’s all I know and that’s as far as we got before he passed out.”

How was Charles? Was he okay?

It didn’t seem like he could be. It had looked like so much fucking blood. The utterly insane things the man had said (“You should know you’re beautiful. Before I leave this mortal realm, I want you to know that”). Those spectacularly bright blue eyes fading to a frightening dullness. Not that Erik knew anything about anything medical, but none of that had seemed promising. So, not only was this nurse annoying as all fuck, she was stonewalling him. They wouldn’t tell him a goddamned thing because he wasn’t Charles’ next of kin. No one, in fact, knew if he had any next of kin in New York because he didn’t have a wallet, ID or phone on him. This was why the nurse was presently grilling him for information he did. not. have. They hadn’t let him ride in the ambulance, so he’d taken a cab and prayed that the ambulance had made a hell of a lot better time than he had. The only reason they were talking to him at all was because he had been there, had a name, a first name, and that was it.

The swinging doors opened and a woman in scrubs emerged. Erik nearly lunged.

“Are you Erik?”

“Yes.”

“He’s asking for you. I don’t want to let you in at all, but I don’t think we’re going to be able to start anything beyond emergency treatment until he talks to you.”

Asking meant conscious. Living. Thank fuck. The relief was powerful and nearly knocked him on his ass. Later, when he wasn’t teeming with barely contained frustration, and desperately trying to ascertain just how okay Charles was or wasn’t, he might spare a moment to think about how unexpected it was to be so powerfully moved by a stranger (a cute stranger who’d saved his life, granted), but not now.

“How is he?”

“He lost some blood, will need stitches on his arm and he has a few fractured ribs, but he’s stable. He’s going to be fine. After he stops trying to get out of bed to talk to you, we might actually be able to treat those things with something other than bandages.”

If Erik had thought the first wave of relief was powerful, he was not prepared at all for the second.

She sighed deeply and gestured to the double doors from which she had emerged. “This way.”

He followed her a short way down the hall, nearly stepping on her heels each step of the way. She stopped so abruptly before they entered the room that Erik nearly ran straight into her back.

“I should warn you that he’s... well, you’ve both been through a trauma. The mind processes such things in all sorts of ways. If he doesn’t seem... ‘all there’ don’t be overly concerned. Play along, don’t distress him further.”

Charles certainly hadn’t been ‘all there’ at the scene of the accident. His bizarre last words kept spinning through Erik’s head at random intervals— you are so loved. On their own, they were strange enough, but the reverence of Charles’ tone had sunk the words into Erik’s bones like a telepath projecting the emotion behind what they were saying. He hadn’t heard the words, he’d felt the words. Even if Charles was a telepath, it didn’t make them make anymore sense. More forthcoming then... he nodded at the doctor.

“You’re here!” Charles beamed at him from his sitting position on the hospital bed, looking much happier than anyone had any right to be in his situation. “And, you look well. Are you well?”

Charles did too, relatively speaking. He was a little pale, a little bruised but nowhere close to as bad as Erik had expected. Though the car had clipped him as he’d tackled Erik out of the way, it seemed to have been a case of looking much worse than it was at the scene. Small miracles.

“I’m fine.” Fine enough, at any rate. Like Charles, he was understandably bruised, and it was probably going to hurt more in the morning, but his suit had taken the harder beating. Between contact with the pavement and Charles’ blood, there would be no saving it, not that that mattered in the slightest. “You’re the one who was bleeding out all over me. How are you?”

Erik was sitting at his bedside now, the doctor presumably hovering in the background for all Erik’s attention was on Charles. The man in question blinked, cocking his head slightly to the side and giving Erik’s question a more thorough consideration than Erik would have thought necessary.

“I really don’t know,” he finally answered. Charles stretched his injured arm out in front of him, now bandaged (if not stitched) and looked at it with a plainly perplexed expression. “I’ve never been hurt before you know. It’s curious... interesting, but I don’t at all recommend it.”

“You were hit by a car.” Erik couldn’t help but be amused. Perplexed Charles was endearing. “Not something that happens to a person every day.”

“Quite.” Charles conceded the point. He went from staring at his arm to deliberately poking his own rib cage, and subsequently wincing. “You’re all very fragile, you know. So much could kill you every single minute of your life and yet so many of you manage to survive until old age. How do you do it? I’ve only just arrived and I’ve already nearly died.”

He turned his focus from his ribs to Erik and genuinely looked as though he were waiting for a response. Erik opened his mouth and then closed it. Despite the doctor’s suggestion to ‘play along’ he didn’t have one. Erik decided to change course.

“The hospital needs your personal information— last name, address, insurance.”

“Oh, well, that’s easy enough. I don’t have a last name. Just Charles. Or an address for that matter. I feel it’s unlikely my former profession came with any benefits.” Charles suddenly laughed. “That’s not true. It absolutely had many benefits, but certainly not State Farm. Besides, I’m no longer working for Him.”

The emphasis on the last word was... odd. Was Erik supposed to know who he was?

“I was... goodness. I was fired I suppose. Fired. That means I’m—I’m unemployed. For the first time in a millennia, I’m... on the pogey!” He laughed a little harder, the edge of hysteria he’d had at the scene worming its way back in. “Wait, no, you don’t say that anymore, do you?”

Pogey?

“Oh you look so confused. I apologize. It’s a Canadian phrase come to think. Or it used to be, a century ago.”

Shit.

Had Charles hit his head? Was this some kind of bizarre amnesia? The doctor hadn’t mentioned either possibility but... Erik side-stepped again.“How about family? Is there someone I can call and let them know you’re here? Maybe they can provide your information?”

The shift in Charles’ expression and demeanour was so abrupt and dramatic that Erik’s gut clenched. The stunning blue eyes that had stared up at him with such naked concern and relief, took on an unmistakable sheen. The wetness made them impossibly bluer, an unnatural colour that was as striking as it was otherworldly. The tears did not fall, yet Erik somehow knew that Charles would cry beautifully if they did. Erik somehow also knew what the response was going to be before he uttered it.

“No. There is no one. Not anymore.”

Erik surprised himself by doing something he would normally never do, under any circumstance, even with someone he knew well, let alone someone he had just met. He reached out and took Charles’ hand, squeezing it gently. His was a pain Erik was all too familiar with.

“It’s all right. We’ll... we’ll figure this out. You’re Charles. You saved my life. You have me. That’s all we need to know right now. Don’t worry about the insurance or anything else.”

Charles stopped staring out into the middle-distance and focused on Erik. “Truly, you don’t owe me anything.”

Erik snorted. “The hell I don’t. Besides, we’ve got to get you healed up. I can’t take you to the diner in this state. We’ve got date, remember? So there you are. Here you think I’m indebted, but really my reasons are purely selfish. You’re hot and I want to date you. Humour me.”

The wetness retreated and that red mouth quirked up into a small smile.

“As long as you’re being self-centred.”

“Oh, trust me, I am.”

Somewhere behind them, someone cleared their throat. Erik turned. Oh, right, the doctor. “As much as I would love to watch the two of you keep flirting, we need to take care of those injuries.”

She was right, so Erik reluctantly stood and even more reluctantly released Charles’ hand.

“I’ll be back later, so stop trying to leave and let them take care of you, all right?”

Charles nodded. “If you insist.”

“I do.”

Erik forced himself to turn and exit the room. Only after he’d left it, did he truly exhale. Charles was okay. Charles was okay. Charles was flirting even... well, possibly. They were still on for that date. Erik took a few much needed breaths and strode more determinedly, and much less frantically, back toward the nurses’ desk. He would take care of this.

He would take care of Charles.

Thanks for reading 😊. I really hope inspiration continues to strike because I’ve had a lot of fun with this thus far.

On to chapter 2 part 1

#cherik #cherik fan fic #cherik fanfic #charles xavier #erik lehnsherr #pinkoptics fic #fallen angel fic

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starcrossedkaiju · 3 years

Text

Kingslayer AU: Chapter Five

If you remember that post I made about the Red Resistance you’re a real one.

Notes: this one is very short. It’s just to move the plot along and blah blah blah. Next chapter is a good one I think.

The next time Scott showed up to the Red Desert it was for a petty fight that Scar had instigated by trying to steal directly from the Renchanting base. The situation made Scott face palm, and he contemplated not even showing up. However, when Jimmy offered to go in place of him, he told him not to bother. That he would be back in less than a day and night cycle.

Scott walked into the meeting just as the Red Army crested a hill. Which they stayed on. Scar yawned exaggeratedly and trekked up to his opponent, who was wearing a bandage on his left arm.

Cleo was also there. She seemed to be focused on drawing shapes in the cracked sand with the tip of her sword. Most likely feeling bitter about her former ally, Tango, joining Dogwarts. Everyone was paying as little attention as possible while Scar fired off false promises and white lies. Grian busied himself with apologizing to the nearest members of the Red Army for Scar’s embarrassment.

Scott was nearly falling asleep on his feet when someone tapped him on the shoulder.

Tango.

“Hey Major, you got a minute?” he whispered.

“So many,” Scott responded, gesturing to the desolate state of their meeting.

The two of them quietly excused themselves from the group to speak in private. Scott didn’t know why he didn’t tell Tango to just leave him alone. Maybe it was because Tango had a certain air of reluctance about him, Scott was certain he pulled his punches. Maybe it was shear boredom.

“So, nice weather,” Tango observed the arid desert sky.

“Uh huh..” Scott provided, unimpressed.

Tango stared at him blankly. Awkwardly.

He cleared his throat, “so I heard about your battle with Skiz and Ren. Impressive,” Tango said.

“What is with you people and beating around the bush? We’re not friends,” Scott pushed Tango away by the middle of his chest, “Tango,” he reminded.

Tango looked hurt for a second, “ouch Major. Fine, I wanted to ask you to join me,” he said.

Scott burst out laughing, to which Tango scolded him and shook him by the shoulders. That shut him up, it also earned Tango a slap.

“Don’t touch me,” Scott ordered.

Tango put his hands up, “no touching here! But be quiet. I brought you over here alone for a reason,” he pointed out.

Scott glanced at his allies. Blissfully unaware of the possible treason he may have been about to commit.

“Nobody knows this yet,” Tango whispered, “but I’m spying on the Red Army,” he said.

“What?” Scott asked rhetorically.

“Yeah, I have a plan. It involves you,” Tango responded.

Scott paused to consider if he was really about to entertain whatever was about to come out of Tango’s mouth.

“How do I know you’re not just trying to get close to me and then kill me on behalf of him,” Scott pointed at Ren, who was rolling his eyes at Scar and animatedly conversing with him about something Scott forgot about a long time ago.

“You remember the cow farm right?” he said.

“Yes,” Scott nodded suspiciously.

“I let you take my cow, on the promise that you and Jimmy wouldn’t tell anyone,” Tango recited.

“And we didn’t,” Scott said.

“Exactly. I know I can trust you, and I can’t trust them, Etho tried to kill me remember?” Tango pointed at Etho and Ren.

“So I want you to join me. Not the Red Army, me. Impulse is doing the same thing,” he concluded.

“Didn’t Impulse actually kill you?” Scott pointed out.

Tango waved his hand, water under the bridge.

Scott drifted off into contemplation. Everything about joining a coup against the Red Army screamed danger. More than usual. Dogwarts was a force to be reckoned with. They had superior gear, defenses, players, and alliances. Maybe Scott could cheap shot Martyn and Skizzle, but he could not promise that same luck against Etho or anyone else for that matter. The thought of even trying made his stomach turn.

And then there was Jimmy. If their plan didn’t work, what would happen to Jimmy? The Crastle? Or the Red Desert for that matter? The target on their backs was large enough. Scott had to take a step back. Since when did he get himself involved in a war?

Since he started defending himself, his mind provided.

Since he started standing up for his own freedom. For their freedom.

“Okay,” Scott said.

“Really? You’re in?” Tango’s eyes lit up, his joy was a bit loud for Scott’s new predilection for secrecy.

“Shh!” Scott put a finger in front of his face, “that’s not what I said…” he averted his eyes.

“I want to, believe me, I do,” he said, “but I can’t.”

Tango’s smile faded instantly, his red eyes grew disappointed, “Why not?” he seemed hurt.

“I have too much to lose. I can’t risk this,” Scott held the charm of his necklace up, it’s gemstone still shimmered bright green.

“Scott, I admire your devotion, I really do; but this is a bit bigger than that,” Tango said.

Scott’s expression fell into shock and reproach.

That seemed like enough of an answer for Tango, who backtracked as he realized he’d struck a nerve.

“I mean!” he corrected, “I mean nothing will happen to Jimmy. Cross my heart, he will be under the Red Resistance’s finest protection,” Tango stood up straight and crossed his heart.

Scott decided that was satisfactory. He made a face that said the opposite though, just to make sure Tango’s pride wasn’t too uplifted.

“Fine. I’ll join you Tango, but if I get even the slightest inclination of funny business, I’m out,” Scott cautioned, but he agreed.

“Terms and Conditions, I get it. The Red Resistance will not indenture any of its members,” Tango responded with a gleeful grin.

“You guys and your red themed names,” Scott teased, but held his hand out. They ought to make it official before everyone stopped snoring.

Tango shook it enthusiastically. The two called it done and Scott returned to his side, and Tango returned to the Red Army.

*****

Scott traveled back home that day. No fighting had taken place, although Scar had decidedly talked himself into a hole and ended up giving Ren access to any sand Dogwarts and their affiliates needed for the next week. It was no skin off Scott’s back, he didn’t care. Not his sand.

Wearing so much armor and standing in place for two hours gets on ones nerves. Taking off his heavy diamond chestplate felt like enough liberation for the day. He expected to hear from Tango or Impulse at some point, preferably soon.

Jimmy asked him how the meeting went when he returned, holding out a cup of coffee.

Unsure of whether or not to tell the truth, Scott lied, he said nothing happened and made fun of Scar for running his mouth so much. He said he was tired.

*****

“Scott? That you?” Tango’s voice came through a small door in his abandoned cow farm. It wasn’t needed anymore.

Scott pointed his torch towards the voice, illuminating a door, which Tango had crafted into the side of the underground farm.

“Yes it’s me. Why’s it so dark in here?” he asked.

“I don’t want people to know I’m still using this place, that’s why,” Tango motioned for Scott to come to him.

Tango silently listened for any sign that Scott had been followed, then pushed a stone slab in front of the hidden door with a silent thud.

On the other side of the door was a short hallway, then a very small room with some pillows on the floor and a table. A map of the server that included all the structures and members was pinned up on the wall. There was also a well loved notebook on the table.

“Where’s Impulse?” Scott asked, sitting down on one of the pillows.

“Ren needed him for something, he’ll probably be here next time,” Tango explained. He sat down and lit a candle to make more light.

“I thought we would start by going over the basics today,” Tango picked up the notebook and flipped through some of the pages absently.

Scott looked away and then back, “okay, shoot,” he said.

The “plan” centered around infiltrating the Red Army, convincing them (mainly Ren) that Scott had decided to switch sides. Then, him, Tango, and Impulse would eventually build their trust. Somewhere in there they would convince the Red Army to stop messing with people and come to an agreement with the rest of the server. Something about working together instead of against each other.

“We still have to work some stuff out,” Tango concluded with confidence.

“That’s the plan? You really think this’ll work?” Scott crossed his arms.

“If you can insult Scar convincingly enough, yes,” Tango said.

“Oh this’ll be easy!” Scott laughed, mostly to cover up his nerves.

Tango chuckled with him, then became serious once more, “I’m glad you have a sense of humor going into this. Even after what they did to you,” Tango said.

“I’m sorry about that, by the way,” he apologized.

Scott’s hands stung a bit in response, but he nodded a silent “thanks”.

They were quiet. Scott nervously fiddled with the hem of his coat, lost in thought, mostly regret.

Impulse did show up the next time. He arrived just after Scott did. Everyone sat awkwardly in the little room for a while and Scott was wrapped in nostalgia for a similar time. A time where the only threat was an obscene number of phantoms.

Over the course of their meetings, Scott observed his teammates and their actions. A far cry from who they used to be, including him. Scott’s hair had grown past his ears and turned purple at the tips, and he’d become rather paranoid about always wearing armor.

Tango spent much of their interactions lost in thought. The ghost of whatever was eating at him weighed visibly on his shoulders in the way his head was always bowed in a perpetual staring contest with the ground. He was irritable.

Impulse was a wild card to Scott, they’d never really met before; but it was clear he’d been changed as well. Illustrated by his long “mining” trips, which he only returned from to attend their weekly meetups with no resources to show for it, and a general aura of depression.

His mind was drawn back to the picture Cleo had taken of almost all his server-mates, together in front of the Vibe Machine. He’d studied everyone’s faces countless times. Mostly wondering where everything had gone wrong.

Had they ever truly been friends in the first place? Or was camaraderie a comfort when everyone else was just as weak as one another.

#finally. the end of act one.#also the end of me having to select from my notes app because #up until now I wrote EVERYTHING in the same document #never. ever do that.#kingslayer au #scott smajor #tangotek #impulsesv #3rdlife #3rd life smp #cas types #mcyt

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