#like his first questions would be about politics

[humanpurposes]

De Jure

In light of a recent scandal, she finds herself becoming part of Aemond's plan for the future- Part 2 to De Facto.

PM!Aemond x unnamed female character

Main Masterlist // AO3

Warnings: 18+, smut, politics (putting my degree to good use), questionable power dynamics, manipulation, dub con/non con elements, baby trapping

Words: 4121

A/n: He looked too good at the New York premiere and I couldn't help myself :)

A strange feeling seems to follow her around Hightower House, like there are eyes on her, like everyone around her is watching her, like they know something.

It’s plausible enough that Aemond likes to keep her behind late most nights because he trusts her, more so than the other staff. There’s always something they need to talk through, some crisis that needs solving, some issue they can form a preemptive strategy for. Mostly “crisis resolution” comes in the form of him bending her over the desk and tearing through her tights, or having her on her knees with his hands in her hair and his cock slipping between her lips.

Aemond is precise, attentive, relentless. He leaves her stunned and satisfied in a way that the wanting never satiates itself. 

Then there are the occasional glances, the sparse touches, his hand on her back when he walks into a room, his hand on her thigh under a desk, in the back of a car.

He’s careful to act inconspicuously around others, but there’s something about the way Maris glares at her, the way Alys watches her with her brows raised.

What if they know? How could they? How could they not?

Then she starts to get noticed by Otto Hightower. He’s a formidable figure in Hightower House, notorious for expecting the best from the staff, for his bluntness, his restrained but short temper, his intolerance for anything less than perfection– this is the man who made Aemond Targaryen the political force that he is after all.

After Aemond’s success in de-escalating the Aegon situation, Otto Hightower had personally pulled her aside and commended her. “Aemond said he wouldn’t have been able to pull it together if it weren’t for you.”

She’d been rather stunned that Aemond would mention her to his grandfather. 

“Just doing my bit for the party,” she’d said.

He nodded his head at that, mouth poised in something like a smile.

She never has plans on a Friday night these days. She’s working through some polls, anxiously waiting for Aemond to finish a meeting with the inner circle, Otto, Cole and Alicent.

Alys is watching her between glances at her laptop, the same red lipstick on her lips, an eerie white light illuminating her face from the screen. Her nails tap against the keys and the surface of the desk when she pauses to think, to stare.

“What?” she says sharply, weeks of patience wearing thin.

Alys smirks to herself before slowly closing the lid of her laptop. “It seems as though something’s bothering you.”

A panicked feeling hums in her chest. She was too harsh. Her reaction was too obvious. “No, I’m fine,” she mutters.

“I thought you might be tired, you know, with all the overtime Mr Taragryen has you doing.”

She tries to laugh it off, to smile and shake her head, but her mouth feels stiff.

“Maris thinks he likes you.” Alys leans back in her chair, twirling a pen between her fingers.

“No more than he likes anyone else, I’m sure.”

One of Alys’ eyebrows lifts. With a short humming sound in her throat her lips break into another smile that bares her teeth. “Between us, I think Maris has a crush on him. It was cute at first but now I think she looks a little desperate…”

Desperate. What does that make her?

“... I think he likes you because you’re good at your job, but then sometimes it’s like he goes out of his way to ignore you. I thought he might be doing it to make the rest of us feel better.”

They stare at each other, locked in a silent dare. She feels her chest moving with her breath, her heart drumming under her skin. 

“I think you’re reading into things,” she says, wincing at how dry her throat is.

Alys’ smile is gone now. She has this certain look, it can be unassuming and yet unnervingly intense. But they go back to their respective tasks. She looks like she has another thought brewing in her head, but she is interrupted by the ringing on the phone on her desk.

She picks it up instantly. “Hello, sir. Yes, sir. I’ll send her through now.”

The meeting isn’t over yet, the others would have passed the office on their way out. She tries not to stand too eagerly, taking her time as she collects the papers in front of her and picks up her phone– but what if Alys thinks she’s moving too slowly? She resists the urge to tut at herself or fiddle with the fabric of her skirt.

She has to walk by Alys’ desk to get to the door, and the thought fills her with dread, like she’ll be able to see right through her head and read every thought.

“Wait,” Alys calls as she hovers in the open doorway. 

She turns to face her.

“He’s sweet,” Alys says, “and too gorgeous for his own good, but the Hightowers are opportunists.”

She knows that. The whole country knows that. For a generation, Westerosi politics has been nothing but a game between the Greens and the Blacks, a rivalry that started when Otto Hightower’s daughter caught the eye of Viserys Targaryen.

“You’re a smart girl,” Alys says. “Be careful.”

The walk to Aemond’s office feels longer than usual. The closed door feels more daunting. She taps her knuckles against it three times and pauses for a moment, until she hears his voice telling her to enter. 

The days are growing shorter and the sun is already setting, a warm glow bleeding in through the tall windows. The light makes Aemond’s hair appear more golden than silver. He’s sitting on the sofa, suit jacket open, tie discarded, the first few buttons of his shirt undone, hair dishevelled, like he’s been running his hands through it.

Criston Cole is sat in an armchair and nods to her when she walks in. Otto Hightower sits with his back to the door, Alicent beside him.

They’ve been in here for hours, the table between them is covered in empty coffee cups and newspapers with bold headlines. Some have moved on from the Aegon scandal, others have not.

She looks to Aemond for an instruction.

He beckons her with a single finger, anticipation already pooling in her belly despite their company. She stands beside him, hovering by the arm of the sofa where Aemond leans against his elbow, clutching her papers close to her chest.

Otto greets her by name. She’s rather proud of how far she’s come since her first day, scared to even step foot in his office.

He and Cole continue to discuss the Duskendale by-election which will inevitably take place in light of Aegon’s removal. Otto says this will be an opportunity for the Blacks to capitalise on the scandal, win themselves another seat in Parliament and put pressure on the Greens, on Aemond. Alicent listens all the while, picking at her fingernails.

“Rhaenyra will pick someone close to her, someone charismatic,” Otto says, looking directly at her. 

Why would he do that, does he expect a note to be taken on the conversation?

Aemond’s hand appearing on her waist takes her by surprise. She stares down at him wide-eyed at his carelessness. He doesn’t seem worried as he gently pulls her down to sit on the arm of the sofa. His arm stays wrapped around her back, his hand slotting into the curve of her body, his thumb tracing circles against her shirt. 

She tries to look at Otto and Cole without drawing too much attention to herself, but they don’t seem surprised at Aemond’s little display of affection. Alicent stares at them passively.

“Who in the Black Party has any charisma?” Cole says dryly. “She’s hardly got any allies left.”

“Jacaerys,” Otto says.

Cole scoffs. “He’s fresh out of uni.”

“He’s young but he has appeal,” Alicent says. “Certainly more than Aegon ever did.” She says it so gently but with no hesitation.

“And a good speaker,” Aemond adds, “people respond to him, he’s likeable.”

One more question remains, a ceaseless itch in her brain, as distracting as Aemond’s hand clinging to her body. She clears her throat softly. “Who’s our candidate going to be?”

Aemond’s grip on her waist tightens and he looks up at her, dying sunlight beaming over his face, catching on the tip of his nose, the curve of his lip, the lines of his jaw. “We’ve been discussing that.”

She hates this, feeling like she’s a step behind everyone else in the room. She looks up at the faces of Otto and Cole. Aemond has a sister, Helaena, but she stays away from public life. His younger brother, Daeron, is still studying. There are also plenty of Hightower cousins, people already in their inner circle. 

“If we are all in agreement,” Otto says, fixing his suit jacket as he stands. “Come, Alicent.”

Aemond’s mother has always been a glamorous woman, younger than she appears. It’s not something she’s ever noticed before but she has such a solemn look about her, wide brown eyes and fallen lips. 

Aemond stands to kiss her on both cheeks. “Thank you,” he says, softly, still loud enough for her to hear it.

“I trust your judgement,” she says.

With that the three of them leave the room and Aemond closes the door behind her.

She’s still sitting unsurely on the arm of the sofa, resisting the urge to dig her fingernails into the leather.

Aemond turns to face her. He slips off his suit jacket and places it carefully on the coat hanger by the door. He takes measured steps towards the sofa. “I have something to tell you. Sit down.”

Her stomach drops at the sinisterly soft tone of his voice, but she does as he says, slipping from the arm to the sofa itself, only to find she cannot sit comfortably. The back isn’t quite in the right place, the seat is too soft, like she’s melting into it. She tries to sit with her back straight, her legs crossed, her hands in her lap and her head held high as he approaches her.

By now she thinks she has a good read of him, the subtleties in his expressions, the hints into his mind. She can’t read him now. He looks at her with excitement, with something softer, with a look of hunger and lust. But she can tell that he’s far too happy with himself.

“You look nervous. Are you nervous?” he says, undoing the buttons on his cuffs and pulling them up to bare his hands, the muscles and tendons of his forearms.

“Well, I don’t know what’s going on.”

“It’s exciting, I promise.”

Exciting to him, clearly.

“Alright,” she says.

Aemond stands before her and smiles, only for a moment. Usually, in this position, he’d reach out for her cheek, maybe he’d lean down to kiss her.

He just looks at her, with amusement, wonder, curiosity, perhaps even pride. With a small hum to himself, Aemond says, “we need a candidate for Duskendale.”

“So I’ve heard,” she says, quietly but defiantly. 

“I want it to be you.”

She feels her eyes go wide. The room feels cold and close. She can hear Aemond breathing through his nose, slow and steady.

After a few moments of silence, Aemond says, “what do you think?” 

It takes her too long to find her breath. “You suggested it to Otto?”

“Yes. He and my mother agree, you’ll be perfect.”

Heat flushes in her face. She feels an urge to laugh, or cry, or grab him by the shoulders and ask him why in seven fucking hells he thinks this would be a good idea.

But then this is what she’s always wanted. This is why she studied so relentlessly, spent hours and hours in the library pouring over textbooks, why she gave up sleep to meet her deadlines, missed meals to afford rent in Sunspear, dedicated so much of herself to the extra work, all so she could have the very job Aemond is offering her on a silver platter.

It would be worth it, wouldn’t it? Knowing she could actually make a difference to the world that seemed determined to have her fail.

What if she asks him “why?” What if she gives him a reason to doubt her and he snatches that chance away?

She barely registers Aemond’s hands closing around hers before he pulls her up to stand. His forehead and his nose rest against hers, his breath warm over her skin. His lips are almost upon hers but he doesn’t move to kiss her, he keeps her waiting and restless.

“They’ve all agreed,” he mutters, “we need someone with no history, no scandals, nothing that could be held against us, not after the mess Aegon’s made.”

She pauses, pulling back a little so they can meet eye to eye. “You want me because I won’t embarrass you?”

Aemond tilts his head. “I want you because you’re the best option.” He leans in again, pressing a delicate kiss to her forehead, then her temple, then her cheek. “You’d be a perfect fit, you’re intelligent, you’re meticulous, you don’t miss details and you’re unafraid to speak your mind.”

He presses a kiss to the corner of her mouth but she turns her head. “I want to feel like I’ve earned it,” she utters.

Aemond’s mouth trails to her neck instead, kissing her firmly. “You have earned it,” he says, his hands moving to her waist, squeezing her, claiming her. His touch roams over the rest of her body while he kisses her neck, her thighs, her rear, anything he can reach. 

It’s dangerous how she responds when his hands are in the right place, and he knows it. But she reaches for his wrists to make him stop when he starts to tug on the waist of her skirt with his fingers.

“Is that what you think this is,” she says, “do you think I’m only trying to get a career out of you?”

Aemond frowns.

“Do you think I want to be remembered as some shallow opportunist? Is that all you think I deserve?”

When he hums it catches in the back of his throat. He makes a small pout with his lips, the way he often does when he’s thinking. 

“You have an opportunity to do something remarkable here,” he says, his voice low and chilling as he takes her chin in his fingertips. “Look at all the work you’ve done for me already, why deny yourself the chance to do more?”

It doesn’t have to be a denial, does it? Saying no to him would only mean she could take a different path, her own path, on her terms. Unless this is it. Unless she says no and this is the end of everything.

His fingertips press into her jaw, as if his patience is wearing thin with every passing moment.

She looks into his single violet eye and the sapphire prosthetic set in his left socket, determined to stand her ground. “Not like this,” she says.

Aemond tuts. “Are you worried you won’t get in? You’ll get the seat, I’ll make sure you do. You’ll get the career you’ve wanted for so long, you’ll get everything you’ve worked for.” There’s desperation in his voice, something familiar and yet primal. His thumb gently strokes over her cheek to her lower lip. “I’ll keep you with me. Wouldn’t you like that?”

Reason slips from her mind and something dangerous tightens in her gut. “What do you mean–”

Her question ends up muffled against his lips as Aemond kisses her, deeply and desperately, pulling her into him, closer and closer.

She holds her hands up and the only place for her palms to go is against his chest so she can feel his heat and his heartbeat through his shirt. She parts her lips, welcoming his tongue and his teeth, welcoming the way he consumes her.

“Once you’re in Parliament we can make things official,” he mutters between their kisses.

He goes in to kiss her again and she pulls back. “What?”

He huffs impatiently, taking her face in both his hands. “I need someone reliable by my side, someone like you. It’ll be good for my image, and for the party, to appeal to family values.”

She feels herself scowling. “Did your grandfather tell you that?”

“Don’t give me that look,” he says teasingly,

“What about all the work I’ve done already? I can’t give everything up?”

“What would you be giving up?”

Infuriatingly, her mind is suddenly blank.

Through the windows behind them, the sun is setting lower and lower in the sky, the golden rays only shining brighter as night creeps in. The world is as it was when they first met. Aemond’s eye burns in the light, his eye that has bored into hers as he’s pushed her over the threshold of bliss, that finds her across crowded rooms, that must have seen every inch of her skin. 

“We’ll announce an engagement before you’re confirmed as our candidate,” he says. He comes to kiss her gently. The moment could almost feel tender, if he were not seeking to uproot her entire life. “You’re perfect,” he whispers against her lips. “Say yes to me, please, I need you to say yes.”

It’s easy to get lost in Aemond Targaryen, in his intensity, in his rare offerings of praise and approval. Her arms find their way around his neck, pulling herself into him, absentmindedly rocking her hips against his. His promises excite her as much as they terrify her.

“Say it,” he purrs, his voice catching in his throat as he walks her back. “I need an answer from you.”

The backs of her knees hit the edge of the sofa. She takes a moment to breathe and find her bearings.

Aemond’s eye is hooded and dark, his lips pressed together. She can feel it all simmering under the surface, his hunger, his desperation.

He needs her. He cannot lose this seat to the Blacks, he can’t give them space to challenge him. He can’t let Aegon’s indiscretions overshadow everything he’s been working towards. The Greens need to purge themselves of this damning image, they need a clean slate, and they’re willing to put her in the centre of government to get it.

“I’ll do it,”

His kiss is harsh when he captures her lips again, needy and commanding as he grabs at her waist.

She lets out a breath of surprise when he positions her to lay back on the sofa without parting from her. He’s over her, pressing her into the plush leather, a firm hold trailing from her neck, her wrists, her sides, her breasts through her blouse.

He undoes the buttons slowly, kissing the exposed parts of her flesh of her chest and stomach. When he has the blouse off completely he makes quick work of undoing her bra, discarding that to move his attention to her breasts. He toys with her nipples with his thumbs, lips and tongue until she’s writhing beneath him. She can already picture the bruises that will bloom in his wake.

He’s slow with her skirt too, she can hardly stand it, feeling the fabric and his fingertips dragging down her legs. With her shoes removed, Aemond sits back on his haunches and wraps his hands around one of her ankles, smirking as he strokes small circles over a sensitive spot of her skin.

“Please,” she utters, reaching her fingers out to graze his stomach, still hidden underneath a perfectly white shirt.

“I know, I know,” he coos, hooking his fingers in her panties to pull them from her legs. “I just like seeing you like this.

He wastes no more time, placing her ankle over his shoulder, spreading her other knee with a wide palm and leaning down until his face is between her legs. He knows to start slowly, to tease her with slow drags through her folds. It’s an infuriating feeling but she savours it. It’s the burn she loves, being dragged towards pleasure like a continual tide lapping at the shore.

She craves these unhurried moments, and she supposes there will only be more once Aemond gets his way.

His motions increase in speed when her breath quickens and she starts to squirm, with whispered mumblings of “please… I’m so close… please.” He borders on frantic, hums of approval vibrating against her centre.

It builds and builds until it releases a bloom of warmth in her belly that soon fades back into need when Aemond untangles himself from her. She watches him undo the rest of the buttons on his shirt, as he unbuckles his belt and yanks it from the loops in his slacks. He bares himself to her. There’s no pride this time, just awe when he looks at her.

He positions himself above her, running the tip of his cock, already hard and leaking, against her, pushing against her clit with every gentle thrust.

She holds onto his arms for leverage, letting herself succumb to the sensation, the smell of his aftershave and his sweat, the heat and the sound of their breaths in unison.

“I mean it,” he says with a sigh, “I think you’re perfect.”

She smiles, planting a peck against his lips, before she slides a hand between their bodies and positions him at her entrance. She’s taken him enough times but the initial stretch has her gritting her teeth. 

Aemond stills. “We can–”

“I want to take it,” she utters, “I want to feel you,”

His resolve melts, but he doesn’t push further, waiting for a nod from her before he inches himself deeper inside her.

Their bodies mould against each other, her arms around his shoulders, his head nestled into her neck, his breath hot against her skin as he pants. She watches him thrusting into her, chasing his own pleasure as he nudges against a spot inside her that leaves her feeling weightless. 

He tries to increase his pace, but the back of the sofa hinders him somewhat. He grunts in frustration, gathering her in his arms and moving them both to the fur rug on the floor with ease. He brings her legs onto his shoulders and pushes into her once more, to the hilt, eliciting a gasp from her.

He chuckles to himself, showing his teeth and licking his lips. “You like that?”

“Yeah, fuck,” she breathes.

“Know you like it when I’m nice and deep,” he mutters, fucking her with swift snaps of his hips. With one hand on the floor he takes a gentle hold of her neck with the other, leaning in so her thighs are pressed against her chest. “My pretty girl, my perfect girl.”

Her second climax is within reach, she feels the heat rising inside of her, her hips trying to buck but she’s caged by him.

Aemond’s hold on her neck tightens. “You’re close,” he says with a wicked smile on his lips.

Her back arches from the floor, head thrown back in ecstasy. “Don’t stop,” she pleads, “please don’t fucking stop…”

She clings to him, each one of them at the other’s mercy.

“I’ve got you,” Aemond says, continuing to drive his hips against hers. He must be reaching his own end, his pace is starting to falter, his moans unrestrained. 

Usually he makes a habit of spilling himself over her body, her stomach or her thighs.

“Aemond?” she breathes.

“You’ll take what I give you, won’t you?” he says, “you’re mine now, we might as well get a head start.”

The realisation makes her stomach drop. “Wait–” she tries to murmur between her whines, “you can’t– not yet–”

He leans in to kiss her, to soothe her, to silence her.

He comes with a guttural groan, his hips stilling against her and a warmth spreading inside of her. Her own pleasure erupts after that, she can feel herself clenching around him, her body greedy for everything he has to offer her.

Aemond stays pressed against her for a moment, his heart hammering in his chest. He withdraws from her slowly, bringing her legs down– she sees the way his eye lingers between her legs, something hot and wet dripping from within her. He gathers it with the tip of his cock, pushing himself into her again with short, shallow thrusts.

He takes her by her neck again, demanding her attention.

She gazes back at him, breathless, wide-eyed.

“There’s my good girl,” he coos. “With any luck we’ll have a due date to announce alongside your victory in Duskendale.”

#aemond targaryen #my fics #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond fic #aemond targaryen fic #aemond x you #aemond smut #aemond targaryen smut #hotd fanfiction #hotd fanfic #modern!Aemond #modern!Aemond x reader #house of the dragon fanfic #ewan nation #ewan mitchell smut

[thecharacterchronicler]

Bloodline || Ominis Gaunt x Reader

Outline: Your family arranged for you to marry Marvolo Gaunt. Fortunately, your best friend Ominis steps up and makes sure to save you from such a fate.

Word count: 4’515

Warnings: English isn’t my first language so possible misspelled or misplaced words, arranged marriage, abusive families (mentioned), first time s*x, friends to lovers and explicit smut.

The familiar flip-flap of owls entering the great hall through the windows resounded in Ominis’ ears, excited chatter rising from the students sitting at the tables as, one by one, they received their mail. The sound of paper falling on a wooden surface nearby piqued his curiosity, he didn’t receive letters often, nor did you or Sebastian but an envelope had unmistakably landed in front of one of you.

Your clothes rustled as you moved to take the paper in your hand, tearing apart the top of the envelope as your owl took flight again, its wings almost grazing Ominis’s hair on its way back to the owlery.

Despite the noise of other students all around, Ominis distinctly heard you take a sharp inhale of air, your silence as you read the letter addressed to you feeling somewhat tense.

“Is everything alright ?” He asked you, but you didn’t reply right away, too focused on whatever you were reading.

He waited a few more minutes, noticing the way your legs grew restless and your movements became agitated. You were sitting at the opposite side of the table from him and your foot bumped into his a few times as you nervously readjusted your posture.

He was too polite to insist and didn’t want to push you to share something you might want to keep for yourself, so even though he was dying to question you about the mysterious letter you had received and why its content seemed to upset you, he simply cleared his throat to remind you that he was waiting for an answer to his question.

“It’s a letter from my family.” You explained, with a slight tremble in your voice. “They say that they arranged a partnership for me, effective immediately after graduation.”

“A partnership ? You mean some kind of professional training ?” Sebastian asked, before biting into an apple.

“That would be an internship.” Ominis corrected him, shaking his head. “I think she meant something more intimate than that.”

“Like… A relationship ?” Sebastian inquired, still munching on his fruit.

“A marriage.” You stated, defeated.

“I didn’t know you were dating someone.”

“I am not.”

“It’s common for wealthy and powerful families such as hers to arrange weddings, especially if it’s a matter of keeping their bloodline alive and pure.” Ominis explained, a shiver running down his spine. That was something his family did too, they were obsessed with maintaining the quality of their bloodline, suitable matches were carefully chosen, sometimes within their own family members.

“It’s more of a business contract than a marriage.” You added, with a sigh. “And my parents are making it very clear that I don’t have any say in the matter.”

“Do you know who’s the lucky fiancé, though ?” Sebastian asked, seemingly taking such terrible news lightly. Way too lightly. It was a tragedy, really. You deserved better than to be forced into a loveless marriage under the pretense of keeping a bloodline going, securing the pride and superiority of the worst kind of wizards to exist. Maybe Sebastian couldn’t quite grasp the gravity of what you had been asked to do but Ominis knew all too well how you must feel, being robbed of your free will and freedom by a controlling and corrupted family.

“It’s Marvolo Gaunt.” You answered, bluntly, before getting up from your seat on the bench and leaving the great hall in a rush. Although Ominis couldn’t see, he felt the intensity of your gaze piercing right through him, until you were no longer in the room.

His chest tightened and his body tensed at the sound of his older brother’s name. Marvolo probably was the most cruel wizard he knew, aside from their father. Although they shared the same blood, the same family and the same education, Ominis wasn’t afraid to say that his brother was immensely deranged and should have been locked up in Azkaban a long time ago, like the rest of his family actually. The only reason rules didn’t apply to them and they were free to commit the most vile and cruel crimes without facing punishment was because they were Gaunts, descendants of the great Salazar Slytherin and held more power and wealth than any other family of wizards in the country.

And now you were going to be one of them.

He couldn’t imagine you, taking part in the cruel acts his family committed for fun. And if you didn’t, they would find a way to punish you for it, just like they had punished him in the past. The Gaunts were dangerous, and you needed to stay away from them, no matter what.

Ominis stood up, reaching for his wand to guide his steps through the corridors and halls of the castle. He needed to find you and he knew his wand would know exactly where to take him. He was racking his brain, trying to find a solution to save you from such a doomed fate as he followed mindlessly the path his wand indicated. Eventually, he found himself outside, in a narrow courtyard. Wind rustled through the leaves of a nearby tree and caressed his face, sending a cold shiver through his body. He couldn’t feel any rays of sunshine warming his skin, meaning it must be a rather cloudy afternoon. He could hear the sound of water moving in the fountain at the center of the courtyard, birds singing in the sky… And soft muffled sobs. His wand twitched, tugging him in your direction.

“I’m sorry this is happening to you.” Ominis told you, once he was standing in front of you. He could hear the sobs shaking your body as clear as day but still felt compelled to bring his hand to your face, wiping the warm teardrops away from your cheeks with his thumb. “Marvolo really isn’t a suitable match for you.”

“It’s alright, I knew this day would come eventually. I was just hoping my parents wouldn’t force me into this as soon as I was done with school.” You replied, another teardrop falling from your lashes and rolling down your cheek..

“There must be something we can do about it.” Ominis said, instinctively brushing off the fresh tear from your face. “What if you were engaged to someone else ?”

You laughed although you didn’t find anything amusing about the situation.

“During my seven years here, no one ever courted me, no one attempted to ask me on a date, I have no other prospects. And you know as well as I do that my parents shouldn’t risk angering the Gaunts.”

Ominis furrowed his brows. You were right, if your parents broke their promise to marry you off to one of his siblings, they might not make it out alive. If his parents had arranged for you to be wed to Marvolo, it meant they considered your blood pure enough to perpetuate their dignified bloodline. It was a rare occurrence, usually no one was deemed worthy enough so chances were that they’d do everything in their power to ensure that you’d become a Gaunt now that they had approved of you.

If you broke the arrangement to be with someone else, a wizard of lower class and reputation, his father would take it as an offense and you’d have to pay for such a daring act. If you married Marvolo, then surely he would take advantage of you and of your obligation to satisfy your family and his, he’d be cruel and violent, he wouldn’t care about you and would never treat you with the respect you deserved… There was only one option left.

“Marry me.” Ominis stated, determined.

“What ? What are you saying ?” You spoke, dumbstruck by the sudden suggestion.

“My parents want you to ensure the purity of our bloodline, your parents want you to earn the status and power that come with my last name… So marry me instead.”

“Ominis, you don’t have to. I can’t ask you to do that for me, that’s…” You argued, shaking your head.

“It’s a matter of time before my parents arrange a wedding for me too. I think I’d much rather be married to someone I consider a friend than a stranger they would have picked for me. So really, you’d be the one doing me a favor.” Ominis continued, his heart beating faster as he spoke. He knew it was a good idea, it would save you from Marvolo, from his family and, despite being a Gaunt himself, he would do his best to treat you well. He would never hurt you, never mock you, never give you any reason to regret choosing him instead of his brother…

So please, say yes.

His mother adjusted his tie. She told him that the all black suit she had gotten tailored made for him suited him better than anything he ever wore. She said it brought his blue eyes out, and that everyone would be able to tell that he was one of the heirs of the Gaunt name. Ominis wasn’t sure what was meant to be a compliment and what was meant as a jab, but he simply nodded at everything she said.

By the time he walked down to the garden of the imposing manor, his mother’s arm looped in his, he felt dizzy with anxiety. His heart was pounding in his chest, threatening to burst out at any minute. His ribcage felt so tight around his lungs that he could barely breathe correctly, and the more time went by, the more sweaty his hands became.

He could hear the chatter of the numerous guests his parents had invited as they took place around the lectern that had been placed at the very center of the garden. The familiar smell of roses tickled his nose, meaning the white rose bushes must be in full bloom in this season. He could feel the sunshine on his face and the warm summer air on his skin. It was a beautiful day on the gloomy manor.

His mother let go of his arm, leaving him standing on his own in front of what he imagined was an impressive audience of grumpy wizards. He still couldn’t quite catch his breath and, the moment the ambient chatter died down, his throat instantly felt constricted and his body tensed up.

He heard the whispers among the crowd and the footsteps approaching in his direction. It was unmistakably the way of walking of a man, confident and determined while the lighter steps next to his were more hesitant. In the past seven years, Ominis had memorized the sound of your steps. He also could recognize your smell in a crowd and knew exactly how soft your skin felt under his fingers. He could tell if your hair was up or let down from the way you touched and played with it and he knew that the quiet, almost imperceptible breaths you let out meant that you felt nervous. He knew all of this and more yet, he had no idea what it felt like to kiss your lips or hold you in his arms and that felt awfully wrong, considering what you both were about to do.

The man that had accompanied you walked away, leaving you standing with Ominis in front of prying, curious eyes. You didn’t say anything to each other, too busy trying to not pass out from how anxious you both felt. The contract was written and placed on the pupil in front of you, its tricky clauses oozing with dark magic.

It wasn’t just any contract. It was a cursed one, meant to bind you together forever. The words til death do us part took a different meaning as you signed your name at the bottom of the page, knowing that if you ever tried to leave him, you’d most likely be instantly killed by some kind of dark spell that probably was forbidden to cast. The promises you made by signing this contract were definitive and the consequences if you failed to hold them were deadly. At the very least, you both could feel thankful that you weren’t making such vows to a complete stranger.

Ominis signed the parchment too, the ink dripping from the quill dark red like blood. The contract was sealed with applause and illegal magic, making you his wife. For the rest of your lives.

The dinner that followed the ceremony was dull and mostly boring, a display of Mister Gaunt’s power and a lecture on his narrow views about muggles and mudblood wizards, as the guests listened quietly to his speech, nodding in agreement every once in a while. Eventually, Ominis took his leave, pretending that he was exhausted from the events of the day. You excused yourself too, glad to find him waiting for you in the hallway.

He knew the manor he grew up in in details and could navigate it without the help of his wand. He guided you upstairs, through the dark corridor that led to his bedroom. He opened the door for you, letting you step inside first before following you in and shutting the door behind him. He had never had any guest in his bedroom before and that realization made him feel uneasy. He knew that the servants kept his room neat and tidy - just how he liked it - but he wasn’t sure of what you were going to think about the ancient desk he sat at to write his letters to Sebastian, or the books that lined the shelves of bookcases that reached the ceiling. And what about the four poster bed he slept in, he had always found it large and comfortable but suddenly he worried it might be too small to share with you.

“Once we move into our own home we’ll be able to sleep in separate rooms. But for now, I think it’s better if we share mine.” He said, hoping that you wouldn’t feel too uncomfortable here until then.

To convince his parents to let him marry you instead of his brother, he had pretended he was madly, irredeemably in love with you. At first, they didn’t like it, saying that love made men foolish and pushed them to their demise but, eventually, they came to the realization that him wanting you so badly would serve the purpose of continuing their bloodline. Many heirs could be born from such desires.

Now that you were here, in the intimacy of his bedroom, he couldn’t help but think about it. How amazing it would be to kiss you, touch you, make you his as everybody expected him to. But he wouldn’t do it. Mainly because he was a gentleman and had promised himself that he would never, ever, disrespect you. And also because he was determined to not give his parents the satisfaction of having any heirs from him. The Gaunt bloodline was poison, corrupted with dark practices and immorality. Sooner or later, one of them would cause unforgivable chaos in the world, so he was determined to prevent it from happening anyway he could.

“I’m sorry that you had to do this.” You told him, taking a closer look at the books on his nightstand. You sounded sincere, as if you felt guilty that he now had the privilege of calling you his wife. “You should have been able to marry someone you love.”

Ominis had never felt anything remotely close to what was described in the books he read for someone, nor did he experience the crushes Sebastian so often had on a random person every once in a while. The only woman that had somehow interested him was you. He cared about you. And maybe it was an acceptable foundation for a marriage.

“You should have been able to do that too.” You sat on his bed, your wedding dress crunching up above your legs. He approached, heart hammering in his chest. “But for what it’s worth, I consider myself lucky to call you my wife.”

You smiled and reached out to take his hand in yours. His palms were sweaty, as per usual when you were around, but you didn’t seem bothered by that, pulling him so that he’d sit on the bed next to you.

“Do you mind if I try something ?” You asked him, a bit hesitantly. He took a sharp inhale of air, his body straightening up with sudden tension. In appearance, he seemed quite uncomfortable to be sitting so close to you, and even more now that you had asked him such a question, but he nodded despite hating being unsure of what to expect.

You moved closer, slowly. Your scent tickled his nose, he knew it by heart, he had fell asleep more than once to the faint perfume you left on the common room’s couch pillows, usually prompting him to dream of you. He felt your soft, warm breath caress his skin, indicating that your face was inching impossibly close towards his. He held his breath as you pressed your delicate lips to his, giving him a chaste kiss to seal your union, far from prying eyes.

He kept his eyes closed when you moved away, conflicted emotions passing on his face. He wasn’t expecting to feel so many tingles in his stomach after such a light and short kiss, yet even now that you had moved away, he still felt millions of butterflies tingling under his skin. He left out the breath he had been holding, taking just enough air to say your name, softly.

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to know what it felt like.” You apologized, and he knew from the sound of your voice that you must be blushing.

He had wondered what it would feel like to kiss you too, more than he’d like to admit. A friend shouldn’t be curious about such things, it felt wrong to him, like he was betraying you by having such intimate thoughts about you. He hated how conflicted he felt whenever he woke up with an erection because he had spent the night dreaming of you touching him, and he hated how his primal instinct sometimes took over and he’d end up brushing against your chest or your back under the pretense that he couldn’t see what he was doing. He shouldn’t feel so desperate for his friend to kiss him again, and surely he shouldn’t want to be given permission to explore the body of his friend in details… But perhaps, if such desires weren’t acceptable between friends, they could be considered reasonable ones to have for his wife…

“Don’t apologize, we’re married now after all.” He gulped, feeling the temperature of his body rising. “Kissing is one of the many things that will be expected from us.”

You moved, suddenly growing agitated next to him. He could hear the rustle of the fabric of your wedding dress, the sound of clasps being opened and knots getting untied. He didn’t dare to move, not even breathe, as he carefully listened for a clue as to what you were up to. Then, he felt your hands on his chest, slowly undoing the buttons of his vest, one by one.

“What are you doing ?” He asked, his breath catching in his throat when his hands, resting on his lap, brushed against your bare thighs.

“Another thing that is expected of us.” You simply replied, now dragging his vest down his shoulders, before repeating the same actions to remove his shirt. He heard your surprised, yet quiet, gasp and the way your breathing became labored at the sight of his chest. He felt your fingers tracing the lines of his abs, brushing against the blond hair under his navel and grazing the elastic of his pants.

He said your name in a whisper, wanting it to be a warning but coming out like a desperate plea. You shouldn’t be touching him like this, not because it was what your families required of you. You should only do it because you wanted to. So he knew he had to stop you before it went too far, before he wouldn’t be able to refuse, before his body was set ablaze by his repressed lust for yours otherwise, there would be no way of stopping him anymore. He would consume you. Worship you. Devour you. And his promise to never disrespect you would be just a distant memory already, because none of the things he wanted to do to you were respectable.

But you weren’t making it easy for him to keep his word. Your hand was still tracing the lines of his chest like he was some kind of sculpture you were admiring, taking in every detail like he would. And when you moved to sit on his lap, straddling him and trapping him between you and the bed, he tensed up and groaned.

He brought his hands to your hips, telling himself that he’d gently guide you off of him so that he’d be able to remain a gentleman and not take advantage of the admirable loyalty you had for your family with your determination to complete your marital duties right away, but when he felt nothing but your warm skin under his fingers, when you leaned forward to press your naked chest against his and plant another soft kiss on his lips, the remaining of his will power to resist you dissolved.

“We shouldn’t be doing this, we’re friends.” He said, because that was what he usually told himself whenever he thought about you while rubbing himself in the shower. Except he wasn’t the one gripping on his erection this time. You had easily opened up his pants and now the evidence of his desire for you was held tightly in your hand. Your thumb stroked the tip of his erection, spreading the clear drop of precum that had escaped from it over the sensitive pink skin.

“We’re not friends anymore, Ominis. We’re married.” You corrected him, your words destroying the only argument he had to convince himself to not behave like some kind of wild animal as he couldn’t seem to stop his hands from exploring your naked body. “I wasn’t allowed to organize my wedding, chose my dress or invite my friends… Don’t rob me from having a beautiful wedding night. Please.”

His erection twitched in your hand. You were asking so nicely, so politely, for something so intense and passionate, it made him even harder. He put his arm around your waist, securely holding you as he removed you from his lap and laid you down on his bed with a strength you never expected him to have.

“Are you sure this is what you want ?” He inquired, holding himself above you with his hands gripping the headboard, his pants and underwear down to his knees.

“Absolutely.” You confirmed, with a shudder of excitement.

“Very well.” His voice was low, revealing just how badly he wanted this too. He placed a hand on your knee and followed the path all the way up to your core. He could feel the wetness and warmth coming from your center, begging for his attention. He traced the slit between your legs a few times, making you gasp with anticipation. Then, he pushed a finger passed your entrance, your whimper resounding in his ears. He moved his hand in a back and forth motion, not really aiming to pleasure you this way but trying to memorize a path he couldn’t see.

He took his finger out, bringing his hand back to his impatient cock. He wiped your wetness over his tip, mixing it with the fresh drops of precum that coated his skin. Once most of his hard length was slick and sticky, he brought his tip exactly where his finger had been, rubbing it between your wet folds to gather even more moisture before finally pushing it inside you. He heard you gasp loudly and he did too, the tightness of your cunt taking him by surprise.

He easlily managed to slide even deeper, burying his entire length inside of you with a satisfied sigh. He could hear your panting breaths, your soft cries in reaction to his movements inside you and the way you moaned his name, encouraging him to rock his hips against yours a few times.

It was nothing like he had thought it would be. His hand had never made him feel as good as you did, your warmth, wetness and tightness around him were intoxicating. The most wonderful thing he had ever experienced.

He slowly pulled himself almost all the way out, only to shove himself back in with more force. He could feel his tip hitting deep inside you, pleasure building in his abdomen with each of his quick pushes.

The sounds you made were music to his ears, the way you reacted to each of his thrusts was delightful, better than what he had imagined in his most vivid fantasies. He never expected you to be so loud, perfectly showing him how good he was making you feel. He increased his speed and you moaned even louder, practically crying out his name.

He felt your legs closing around his waist, keeping him close while your nails dug into his back, the whole bed shaking in rythym with his movements. Was he too rough ? How could he not be ? It was impossible to be more gentle when the pleasure he felt with each thrust kept intensifying, he was going to lose his mind, chasing the feeling, building it up until he couldn’t take it anymore.

You cried out one more time and your body tensed up, tightening around him so viciously that he finally reached his climax, instantly filling you up with his release. You kept your legs around him, your body spasming with intense pleasure as he struggled to catch his breath for a moment, his thoughts slowly coming back into order.

He waited until your body stopped twitching to remove himself, feeling your shudder as he pulled his spent erection out of you. You still were softly panting, your chest rising and falling under his hand while the other still clasped tightly the headboard. He leaned over, easily finding your lips from which breathless gasps still escaped. He kissed you, gently, as a way to apologize for losing control of himself and felt relieved when you returned his kiss even more fervently.

He moved to his side, lying down next to you to give you enough space to catch your breath but you inched closer, nuzzling your naked body against his in a cuddle that felt even more intimate than what he had just did to you.

“Thank you.” You said softly, sounding truly happy. Ominis smiled, his fingers absently caressing your back, playing with strands of your now messy hair. “I’m glad to have you as my husband.”

Husband. The word turned in his head, reminding him that you now were officially a couple. Mrs Ominis Gaunt; his best friend, his wife, his lover… His.

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[http-tokki]

ʚ⁺˖ ↠ blue

ᰔ pairings: dabi/touya todoroki x fem!reader ᰔ content/tags: mha spoilers, childhood pov, abusive childhoods, childhood crush, blood, allusions to self harm/suicide, explicit language, smut, kinda not really, its smutty talk, angst, allusions to s/a, power dynamics, time jump to when touya is like 26, creative liberties have been taken with the original story, set in the century 2400 ᰔ wc: 10.5k ᰔ a/n: so there is a bit of a weird timeline with this one. instead of touya dying at 13, I've made it he dies at 16 and the subsequent events are a lil delayed, in the manga he is 24 atm but here i have him as 26, please suspend your disbelief for a sec cause the amount of work ive put into this so it makes sense, i almost went crazy

March 10th 2460 Touya: aged nine You: aged eight (and three-quarters)

Breakfast is at five, lunch at twelve, and dinner at seven.

The clock hands tick over the first five graduations and onto the sixth, meaning it is six minutes past seven and dinner is late.

Lateness is not tolerated by the Todoroki clan.

No reason, whether it be big or small, would be accepted nor understood by the head of the family, and punishment for being tardy ranged from groundings to lectures and in the most severe cases, a beating. However, those parameters do not extend to said head, who you think to be more akin to that of a prison warden than a father.

You watch the housekeeper slide the last of the food onto the table and take another look at the clock.

7:08.

The table had been set, food diligently prepared and presented, plates piled high with greens and dripping meat, three different kinds of fish, an array of soups, and other liquid foods. Mrs Todoroki often had trouble eating, so instead opted for warm broths and hot teas, and they were all going cold while you waited for Mr Todoroki to come in from Touya’s nightly training. Saliva coats your tongue as you breathe in the heavenly scents wafting from the mountains of food, your stomach growling in protest at not being filled with the delicious smells.

Ten minutes pass and just before the eleventh has a chance to be observed, the sliding doors to the dining room whoosh open. With the ease and casualness of someone who is above the law of the household, Enji Todoroki strolls in followed closely behind by the eldest sibling.

Touya trails behind his father, movements sluggish and slow, his frail body slumped in exhaustion and what you would only later realise as terror. You can almost see the muck that weighs on his body, dripping off sharp bones in big flat globs of swamp green mud, seeping into the reeds of the tatami mats below. Fresh wounds litter his arms, blooms of dark red blood pock the sterile bandages that were hastily wrapped around his limbs. The stark white began at his wrists and climbed up and up his arms until they disappeared beneath the sleeve of his t-shirt. You follow Touya, eyes lingering on his wounds as he sits down opposite you.

“Fuyumi. Is he-“ Your question is hushed, spoken from the corner of your mouth to avoid raising suspicion of the subject.

“He’s okay, we don’t talk about it.” Her answer comes in a rush, eyes darting towards her father like a prey animal watching their stalker.  “Just eat.” 

Fuyumi’s mouth pulls into a frown for a quick second before her attention moves to the food before her.

You nod, attention shifting from the boy across the table to the plate that had been prepared just for you. A small helping of meat and fish paired with a big serving of rice and vegetables, the nanny even going as far as to put it into a divider plate as though you were a toddler, but you thanked her regardless, smiling up at the haggard-looking woman as she nodded politely and moved onto tending to baby Shouto. The food only holds your attention for so long before you glance back up at Touya, watching as he cuts into his steak with the precision of a man far beyond his years. Each move slow and calculated; every shift of his arms or turn of his head deliberate and purposeful, small actions to avoid raising awareness of his person. Come to think of it, all the children, save for Shouto, moved like that. As if they were in constant apologetic states just for breathing, existing, and with their father you understand why, but it doesn’t stop you from staring at the boy before you.

"Stop looking. He doesn't like it when you stare." Fuyumi whispers, smacking her knee against yours.

"But it looks like it hurts." You whisper back, unable to look away from the red splotches on the white bandages.

You want to ask if he is okay. If he needs a doctor and who did that to him? Was it a bully at school? How was the school not getting involved if he was being bullied this bad?

"Fuyumi," Touya sneers from across the table. "Tell your friend to stop staring at me."

Unabashed hatred simmers in his blue eyes as his glare falls on you. Heat rises to your cheeks, stumbling out an apology, and vowing to never look at him again.

No one had ever looked at you like that. With such hatred and malice, you didn’t even know existed.

"He plays rough, always falling over at school," Mr. Todoroki’s voice booms throughout the room, so loud and sudden it is like a thunderclap on a clear day. "You've got to be more careful, Touya. What would people think if they saw you like this!"

The lack of care for his son’s well-being gives you pause mid-bite. The vegetables fall from your fork as goosebumps skitter along your skin.

What would people think if they saw you like this?

What would they think other than he had been in an accident? Is Touya’s broken body a regular occurrence that people would be so used to seeing that it would start to raise suspicion? Had he been hurt on purpose? Why would Mr. Todoroki say that? Did Mr. Todoroki do that to Touya?

Your attention is pulled outwardly as Natsuo starts to talk about his day, telling his mom and the housekeepers all about the latest games and toys at school, the newest edition of a card game you like captivates you and your thoughts are swept away from the strange boy across from you. 

Dinner ended as it always did.

Mr. Todoroki called the housekeeper over to deal with the mess and children as he retired to his office and Mrs Todoroki took her evening walk around the grounds of the estate. You can’t stay the night despite it being a Friday, you’re never allowed to stay the night. Fuyumi had stayed at yours plenty of times, your parents never saying no to another friend but never you at hers. You thanked both her parents and waved bye to her brother before the youngest housekeeper walked you home. That’s how every Friday night ended.

That routine had become a staple in your life, going on two years, before there was a change to the way of things.

------

July 1st 2362 Touya: aged eleven You: aged ten

The shift was subtle and gradual, like the way a house is warmed by a fire on a winter’s eve. Slow and steady, seeping into all corners of the once-frozen house until all you know is warmth and you can’t remember how the cold felt. That’s how you would describe Touya’s presence in your life. From the arctic interactions each Friday night at the dinner table to someone you would call a friend.

The first thaw of the ice wall that had formed around your friend’s brother, was an accident.

Knee deep in the heat of summer, you had rushed over after summer school, swimmers in your backpack and a dream of jumping into the fresh cold heaven that was the local pool. You had come looking for Fuyumi, hell-bent on getting your poor friend out of the stuffy old house and somewhere she could have fun without the risk of her dad making her or her siblings cry.

You had come to hate Mr Todoroki.

He hadn’t done anything to you personally to deserve the contempt you held towards your friend's dad but you had heard enough from Fuyumi. She had told you all the times he made her mom cry. How there would be arguing and then the sounds of breaking plates followed by her mom’s cries. Mrs. Todoroki never said anything was wrong, never alluded to anything other than a mild argument but there had to be something more, right? Adults didn’t cry over nothing!

“ ‘Yumi, let's go to the pool!” you call down the hall. “I’ll buy ice cream this time.”

The housekeeper had let you in, instructing that your friend was in her room finishing up some school work but after you checked her room and found no sign of her, you went looking.

That is how you found Touya.

Walking into the bathroom under the assumption you would find Feyumi, you are greeted with a situation you are not old enough to understand the severity of.

Touya slouched on the bathroom floor, surrounded by bloodied towels, unspooled bandages, and uncapped ointment tubes. A piece of gauze caught between his teeth as he attempts to bandage his bleeding hand.

He shouts at you to leave, his command broken as he hiccups around the sobs falling from him. Scorched skin covering the majority of his arms, fingers red and blistering as they shake.

That image sears into your brain. Imprinting itself onto your eyelids so that each time you fall asleep, you see Touya; broken and bloody.

There isn’t much you remember from that afternoon, only flashes and stills that live in the recesses of your mind.

The feel of the cold tiles on your exposed legs as you knelt before the once terrifying older boy who had never had a single nice thing to say to you.

The smell of salt and metal of his fresh blood.

The sound of Touya’s cries as you peeled incorrectly placed bandages off raw and exposed skin.

The acidic taste of bile in the back of your throat upon first laying eyes on the scene before you.

It had been too much for little you to comprehend so you just forgot most of it. Thrown it into a locked drawer in your mind and lost the key.

That was the beginning of the thaw, a gruesome and bloody beginning to a friendship that spanned years and ended just as horribly.

------

September 23rd 2463 Touya: aged twelve You: aged eleven

“So it's this really old movie that my mum used to watch” you explain as you click on the familiar title screen. “It’s about a girl who gets transported to this weird world and she has to solve some weird riddle to get out.”

Touya looks at you like you had grown a second head but accepts your weird movie recommendation. You sit down next to him, popcorn bucket jiggling as the couch sinks under your frame.

The beginning animation of Spirited Away starts and the familiar tune wraps around you like a warm hug. This was the movie you liked to watch whenever you felt sad, and you noticed Touya was a little sadder than normal these days so you offered to have a movie night. His siblings had all said yes but upon discovering that the movie was one from decades ago, backed out. So with just the two of you left, you sit in silence and watch as the beautiful world comes to life.

It’s a nice moment between the two of you, sharing something so personal with someone you would have never considered a friend and here the two of you were, watching a movie. Like friends!

“I’m gonna call you Chihiro cause all she does is cry and that’s all you do too,” Touya announces as the credits begin to roll.

“I do not!” you retort, slapping his arm lightly. “I cry a normal amount for a girl my age!”

Touya rolls his eyes. “Whatever, Chihiro.”

------

February 14th 2464 Touya: aged thirteen You: aged twelve

Spring is only a month away yet it feels as if it were the middle of December.

The cold of winter had sunk its claws deep into the city and it seemed as if it did not have plans to let go of it anytime soon. Everyone in Tokyo bundled up against the frost that coated the wind but it wasn’t the cold that had your hands trembling as you gripped a single rose.

It was Valentine's Day and you were about to ask Touya to be yours.

The nerves that had built in your stomach had taken over your extremities. It was as if your entire body was a live wire that every so often touched an exposed pipe and jolted.

In the two years since the bathroom incident, you had grown closer to the oldest Todoroki, sparking a friendship that consisted of more than smiles and shy hellos across the dinner table. Phone calls and text messages were the daily, walking to school and home together was the new norm, all things that one would consider friendly but there was a part within your heart that was growing to like Touya a little more than a friend. You knew it was a crush, you weren’t a little kid anymore, but you also knew that he was unattainable for many reasons. One was that he was a sibling of a close friend and the other being that he was not someone who thought about life that way. There was no room for crushes in Touya’s world. There was only hero work. How to become a hero and then how to become the number one hero.

You had heard this speech a million times. His plans to surpass his father in the rank of heroes and become the ultimate symbol of peace. Heroes had no time for girlfriends, only villains.

But you had no plans of becoming a hero so there was no real reason you shouldn’t try, right? Your mom had bought you the flower this morning, picking up on the crush that you had developed on your friend and very excitedly pushed you to give Touya a gift.  

“What do I do with this?” Touya asks, confused as he takes the flower from your hands.

You had stopped halfway through the walk home and turned to your friend, eyes wide with fear, and shoved the bloom into his hands. Originally the plan was to hand it to him as you said goodbye for the afternoon but you were swiftly running out of ways to regulate your breathing to counteract the anxiety wreaking havoc in your stomach.

“It's for you” you answer, eyes trained on your shoes. 

“Me?” 

“Yes.”

“Are you asking me to be your valentine?” There is a pause. “Do you like me?”

Yes.

“No!” you lie, shouting the word even though you didn’t mean to. “I felt bad that you hadn’t gotten anything, so I got you something and there you go, it doesn’t mean I like you.”  

You hear footsteps, watching Touya’s shoes move closer to yours. “Just admit, you like me.” He teases. 

“I do not!” balling your fists, you stomp your foot. “I already told you why I got them now shut up before I take them back!” 

Another pause. 

“Thank you,” Touya says gently. “Even if it's just cause you felt bad for me” 

Spring had come early for Touya Todoroki.

------

June 28th 2466 Touya: aged fifteen You: aged fourteen

Romance had blossomed between the two of you, then wilted, then blossomed again, then wilted again.

Teenage hormones had been unleashing havoc on your friendship for the past year. One day you were fine and the next, barely speaking but it wasn’t anyone’s fault.

“You two just need some time apart and then you can talk about it, you guys will sort it out.” Your mother had cooed, stroking your hair back as you cried one afternoon after you and Touya had had a ruthless argument.

The topic of fighting was always the same. His insane need to overtake his father and prove him wrong. The need within him had turned insatiable. Morphing from a dream that would one day be achieved with dedication and hard work into something that was turning your best friend into a ravenous beast.

“You’re not listening to me. I need you to listen to me.” Touya shouts as you walk home together.

“I am. You’re just not making sense.” You roll your eyes at your friend, turning your attention away from the raving lunatic walking beside you.

“Why would your dad have it out for you? He’s your dad?”

Touya huffs and stops, hand wrapping around your wrist to pull you back.

“My dad isn’t like your dad. He doesn’t love me or any of us. He just wants us to be better than All Might.” His words are slow as if explaining something to a toddler. “He knows that I am more powerful than him and now he’s scared that I might beat him so he wants me to stop training.”

You groan out his name, annoyed at the constant conversation topic. “Your dad wants you to stop training because you keep hurting yourself. He has told you that a million times, he’s just trying to keep you safe.”

“If he wanted to keep me safe, he wouldn’t have let me train like this. This isn’t about me being safe, this is about me outranking my dad.”

“Touya-“

He continues his tirade. “Enji has realised that I am better than him and Shoto but he doesn’t want his loser son who can only use fire to become the number one hero. I don’t know why you’re on his side. Why can’t you be on my side for once?”

“I am on your side!” you shout, yanking your arm away from his grasp. “I’m always on your side, why do you always make it seem like everyone is against you!”

Touya’s mouth snaps shut at your sudden outburst.

“I can’t keep having this argument with you. I feel like you don’t even want to be my friend so you come up with this stupid stuff to push me away and if you want that, fine. Just tell me so I don’t have to listen to you anymore.” You huff and turn around, starting on your way home without your friend.

You don’t hear his footsteps follow you.

His apology comes in a text later that night.

I'm sorry, Chihiro. Can we still be friends?

------

October 19th 2466 Touya: aged fifteen You: aged fourteen “Can you promise me something?”  Touya’s words become mist in the mid-autumn night.

“Depends.”

You turn to face your friend, feeling the dew-soaked grass squish beneath your shoulders. Hidden behind the garden wall, lost within the shrubbery the two of you hid from the housekeepers who had been tasked with wrangling the children in for dinner. Touya had run first, taking off down the hall the second he heard the call of his name and you followed, unaware as to what you were running from but you followed him everywhere so why wouldn’t you now?

“Please don’t forget me.”

“Forget you?” your brows crinkle in confusion. “Why would I forget you? Are you going somewhere?”

Touya is still on his back, attention rapt on the stars twinkling above him.

“Just when we get older and go to different schools and things change, you know.” He sighs. “Just don’t forget me.”

You sit up, concern overtaking your confusion. Why was he talking about this stuff now? Your friend turns to look at you, mouth pulled down in a frown as tears line his cerulean eyes.

“I won't.” You shake your head, scooting closer across the grass and grab his cold hand, interlocking your fingers together, you squeeze and swear an oath. “I promise, I won’t ever forget you.”

November 24th 2367

Touya: aged sixteen

You: aged fifteen

Nights come quicker in winter.

Which means less time spent with Touya.

But at least there is a little extra time when he walks you home on an evening.

It is a little awkward. Walking so close together but not actually touching aside from the occasional brush of fingers that sent your heart into a sprint. There is something unspoken between the two of you, something that teeters on the edge of romance but not something that you are both ready to dive into. It’s not like you are kids anymore, if you are going to date, it will be different than if you just liked each other. You will have to act like a girlfriend and not his friend and you didn’t know how to be a girlfriend. Was it any different than how you acted now? Plus, kissing and hand-holding. God, you want to kiss him.

You both stop at the gate of your house. The lights in the living room are on which means your parents are up waiting for you.

Touya drops your backpack at your feet.

There is a beat of stillness between the two of you, the tension rising with every second. You had not spoken a single word to each other the entire walk home and you don’t think you will even say goodbye. Touya offers you a tight smile and steps back, confirming your suspicions of a silent goodbye.

"Hey, I need to tell you something." You blurt out the words, not wanting him to leave just yet.

"Yeah?"

"I…umm," you stammer, slipping your hands into your jacket pockets. "I know it's your birthday in a few weeks, so I wanted to know what you want as a present."

"That's a question, Chihiro” Touya's mouth lifts at the corners. “You said you needed to tell me something."

“I got mixed up." You amend.

"You sure? There isn't anything you need to tell me?" Touya pushes, taking a step to close the gap.

"I'm sure. I just got confused" You nod, affirming your choice of words. “What do you want as a gift?”

"Hmm,” He pauses and takes a few more steps closer, lips pursed as if deep in thought. “Well, I want some of those cookies your mom makes." 

Touya stops a few feet from you, close enough for a hug but not close enough that it was weird. 

You laugh. "Really? That's it? You don't want a proper present?"

He nods. "Wrap it up, and it'll be a proper present.”

“Okay, cookies it is” You mirror his nod and smile. Your palms start to sweat, cheeks and ears begin to burn as you look up at your best friend.

“Any more questions?” 

You shake your head. “Nope, that’s all.” 

“Okay, well I’m gonna go 'cause I should have been home ten minutes ago but you are such a slow walker” he teases, bouncing up on his toes. 

“I-Um,” you stutter, unable to come up with a snappy comeback due to his proximity. “Go home before you get into trouble.” 

“I’m gonna.”

He makes no move to go.

Silence fills the gap.

“Ahh, well I’m going to go since-“

You’re interrupted by a soft kiss against your cheek. 

You still, unable to move at the realisation that Touya had just kissed you. 

“Okay, I’m going.” He announces and takes a step back. “I’ll see you on Monday?” 

You nod, raising a hand in goodbye as he starts back down the street.

“I hope you like me too, 'cause that kiss made me late and my dad’s gonna kill me!” he shouts back, already halfway down the street. 

“I do…like you…back” you shout awkwardly, feeling every inch of blood your body had flood into your cheeks. “Good luck. Hope your dad doesn't kill you!” 

------

November 30th 2467 Touya: aged sixteen You: aged fifteen

You speak at Touya’s funeral. 

The third speaker of the ceremony, having been urged on by Fuyumi and Natsuo despite your protests, and the one to close off the day before his ashes were taken home. You tried not to cry, bottom lip wobbling all day and you would have made it had you not been shoved on stage, microphone held to your face as you unfolded the crumpled sheet you had stuffed into the pocket of your coat.

The rest of the day was a blur as was the week,  then the month and only after six full months of grieving daily, crying god only knows how much, did you finally start to see the light at the top of the hole you had buried yourself in but unlike the times you and Touya would play together, his warm hand wasn’t there to help you back up.

------

January 4th 2477 Touya: aged sixteen You: aged twenty-five

You think about Touya Todoroki often.

How your best friend had been killed in some freak accident. How despite his father rushing into the flames to save his son, had come out unscathed yet all that was found was Touya’s jaw bone. It didn’t make sense and you had driven yourself crazy with theories surrounding his death. It was an accident, they had all said. Even if it was an accident, Enji Todoroki was not innocent.

You think about the kind of man Touya could have been if he had lived, what kind of hero he would have become. How he would save the day then turn and smile at his adoring fans, blue eyes blazing bright with pride. You often think about his eyes, remembering how they softened whenever he would smile at you, brighten as you offered half of whatever snack bar you had that day. You think about him enough that you think you’re going crazy when you look up into the eyes of a stranger and see Touya staring back at you.

"Touya?" you whisper as you stare at the strange man.

You had walked headfirst into their chest while crossing the dark street, ducking under awnings to avoid the winter rain. Hoping to cut ten minutes from your usual walk home, desperate to beat your roommate home and into the warm embrace of your apartment’s limited hot water, you took the risk of walking down the alley; what you weren’t hoping for was to bump into your best friend’s dead brother. There was no way it was him, maybe he was a distant Todoroki. Enji did seem like the type to spread it around so maybe a few illegitimate children were running around with the eyes of Endeavour.

His hand reaches out to grab your arm, nails digging into your exposed flesh. You want to wince, to cringe away from him but something within you is telling you to hold your ground. The stranger pulls you closer, all false bravado leaving you as you realise what’s about to happen. Your body tenses, hands uselessly curling into fists at your side.

"Who the fuck are you?" a harsh whisper cuts through the quiet patter of rain.

The hand your arm tightens when you take too long to respond. 

“I’m sorry, I thought you were someone else.” Your answer whooshes from you, all air leaving your body in a single sentence.

The stranger ducks his head to get closer to yours and you turn your face away, afraid to look into the face of the man who had the eyes of a long-lost love. This had to be some sort of joke, right? You were not about to be assaulted by a guy who had Touya’s eyes, there was no way the universe was that cruel.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to I’m sorry, please.” Hot tears roll over your cheeks, your bottom lip quivering as you fight the frown wanting to form. You were not above begging despite knowing it wouldn’t do any good, if there was some way to get out of this situation alive and unscathed, you were going to try it. 

“Hey,” the stranger calls to you, shaking you gently. “Hey, I’m not gonna hurt you.” 

Great, he’s playing mind games now. You’ve seen enough true crime to know that there are no good people left in the world, especially the ones who lurk in alleyways.

A cold hand reaches out and grips your chin, lifting your face to his. The gesture is intimate, gentle and familiar.

“I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean anything by it. I'm sorry, I-“You’re sobbing now. 

“Look at me” he interrupts, fingers tightening on your cheeks.

He repeats his order when your gaze doesn’t move.

You sniffle, blink back tears that refuse to stop coming, and focus your attention on the man before you.

“I’m not going to hurt you so stop crying,” his voice is soft.

The hand that was on your arm now cups your cheek, thumb brushing away the tears that coat your cheeks. His skin is rough and warm, but there is a bite of something cold on his palm. He holds you with such tenderness you feel a tug at your heart not for any feelings towards the stranger but because you had never been held like this before. That a complete stranger who was probably a crazy psycho villain was holding you with the care you hold a baby animal with.

“I need you to stop crying and answer me, can you do that?” he asks, nodding as his thumb continues to brush over your cheek. 

You nod, taking in a shaky breath. 

“Good girl.” Heat floods your cheeks. “Now, why is a pretty girl like you walking alone at night?” he asks softly.

You blink up at him, surprised at the switch in demeanour. 

“I just finished work and this is shortcut.” you don’t have time to come up with an elaborate lie. “I’m really sorry about the whole name thing, you just look like a friend who died and I thought that maybe he wasn’t actually- I’m sorry” You feel the tears welling up again. 

“Well, he’s not me.” He sighs, removing his hands from your face. You kind of miss the warmth they had. “I’m sorry you lost someone, but I don’t think accusing strangers of being dead people is a good idea.”

You nod wordlessly, too stunned at his shift in tone to formulate a response. The man reaches up for the hood of your raincoat, pulling it over your head tight to shield you from the rain. 

“I need one more thing from you okay?” he asks, ducking his head to look into your eyes. “You gonna listen to me again?” 

“Okay.” Your voice shakes. 

“Don’t mention that name to anyone else, alright?” 

He waits for your nod and then releases your hood. “You’re such a good listener” The fact he is praising you has your heart spinning. Wasn’t he ready to attack you a few minutes ago?

“Now go home” he nods his head to the exit of the alleyway. You follow his nod and look back at the light-filled street. “And don’t walk down backstreets anymore, you could get hurt.” 

By the time you turn back to face him, he is already halfway down the alleyway arms raised in a farewell. You watch as he turns the corner and only when he is gone do you let yourself breathe. ------

March 6th 2477 Touya: aged sixteen You: aged twenty-five

"Let it go, dude," Natsuo sighs for the umpteenth time as he packs his books away. "You're lucky you didn't get hurt. He could have been a complete psycho."

Your friend is right and has been every other time you have brought up the strange man from the alley and you can tell by the way he shoves the textbooks into his backpack that his patience is running thin. Over the years, you had grown closer to Natsuo, looking at him like a little brother who you could force to hang out with and do things Fuyumi didn't want to. Unfortunately for him, he was the first person you called upon meeting the stranger (Knowing Fuyumi would have had a heart attack upon hearing about your encounter). Initially, Natsuo was concerned, terrified for your physical and mental wellbeing even going so far as to suggest letting his father know about the incident to launch a formal investigation but you were quick to shut that down. You hadn’t been hurt and the man didn’t seem to be skulking in alleyways to assault anyone so there is no reason you should get heroes involved.

"Dude, he looked so familiar! I know him," you press on, hands splayed on the library table as you lean in as if you were about to reveal a secret. "I think he was a childhood friend."

You had purposefully omitted the fact the stranger bore a striking resemblance to his dead brother or how his entire aura radiated familiarity and warmth something you only really felt from said brother.

Natsuo laughs and zips his bag closed. " 'Yumi was your only childhood friend."

"Fine, a neighbour, maybe I don't know, but I know him."

"Should I schedule you with my family psych, or will this fade by next month?" You frown at Natsu, sigh, and then give in to his pronounced lack of interest.

"I don't need to see anyone because I know I'm right," you start to pack up your things. "But, just for you, I won't mention it again."

------

May 17th 2477 Touya: aged sixteen You: aged twenty-five

You feel stupid.

Really fucking stupid.

So monumentally stupid with every single decision that has led you to this moment. Led you to stand before a thick metal door, the sliding peephole pulled back to allow the man guarding the entry a view as to who knocked like some girl scout. The box of cookies in your hands does nothing to evade that image.

“I have a meeting with…Dabi?” you look down at your phone, squinting at the blurry name on your screen then back to the man guarding whatever was in that building. “I think.”

You have no idea if you’re being set up. If the person you had been corresponding with was the infamous villain or just some poser but what you have deduced from your months long investigation is that you had in fact met Dabi in that alleyway so whether it was him or not you were about to meet, he is your only lead into finally figuring out what exactly happened to Touya

“You think?” You hear the smirk in his voice at the uncertainty in yours. “I think you might have the wrong door, sweetheart.”

It is the right door. The creepy encrypted message you received gave you this very location with the exact time to arrive. This was a giant risk on your behalf. Trusting strangers on the internet to give you accurate information as opposed to being lured into a trap for human trafficking but the need to know more about the mysterious man you had met weeks ago was gnawing at your insides so much that you were more need than person. The hunt had begun with a very broad search into Touya’s death and the records surrounding the tragedy before very quickly veering into villain records and archives. There was a small lead with a hospital admittance for an unidentified burn victim in a hospital a prefecture over from Tokyo but that went cold when the body of the patient was identified two weeks post mortem through dental records. You had all but given up when a weird email in your spam box caught your eye. It was from an unknown sender, hence the immediate spam allocation, and had nothing but a link to a chat site. There is no amount in the universe to quantify the stupidity in your subsequent actions from clicking the link to chatting with the stranger on the other side of the screen but they had the information you wanted and so you followed their instructions to a bookstore, then a bar and then finally an internet café where you logged into the already open discord chat that had the location of the final meeting point. You quickly snapped a picture of the chat before it disappeared and three days later, here you stand in a deserted alleyway surrounded by boarded-up doors and graffitied walls.

“This is the address I was given.” You explain, holding up the phone so the guy can get a look at the message. “I promise I'm not with the police or anything, I just have some questions for Dabi and I know that makes me sound like I’m a police officer but I’m not and I’ve been looking for him for weeks so please, let me in.”

Your mouth sets in a frown and despite wanting to look intimidating and rough, you know you look like a child pouting in an attempt to get more cake. “Please, I’ll give you some cookies if you want.” A shitty bribe but a bribe nonetheless.

The man snorts. “You really have cookies in that box?”

“Yes. Fresh and homemade made and some of them can be yours if you let me in” You wiggle the box.

There is a beat of silence then the sliding peephole slams shut.

Fuck.

You close your eyes, disappointed in the fact you had come so far only to be shut down by some guy behind a door. Maybe this was the universe stepping in and preventing you from getting killed or trafficked. Maybe you should let this whole thing go.

Just as the last of your hope leaves you, you hear the click of a lock and then the door is sliding open. The man who you had been speaking to not ten seconds ago stands before you, muscular tattooed arms crossed over his equally muscular chest.

“Choc chip?” he asks, eyes trained on the box in your hand.

You nod.

“Fine, come in” The man tilts his head in a gesture to welcome you in. “Leave some on the counter.”  

You nod again, your pace quick as you enter the building beyond the door.

The hallway is dim and damp, filled with cardboard and wooden crates stacked along the walls. The ceilings are high with exposed piping and hanging fluorescent bars that would have once lit up the entire walkway. Light bleeds beneath the many doors that line the hall, muted sounds following the flashes of colour that leak from the closed-off rooms. The smell is unpleasant, with mildew and mould growing along every available surface but what did you expect a dirty unoccupied building to smell like?

“Where’s the?” you turn to ask about the counter, but the man has disappeared. The door slides shut caging you in from the outside world, from an escape if need be. “Hello?” you call out and take a step back, dried leaves crunching beneath your feet.

Fuck. Fuck.

You turn on your heels, heading for the door you had stepped through a few seconds ago but are stopped by a familiar voice.

“Did you really bring me cookies?”

You whirl, fingers tightening on the box between them. “Yes, but if you don’t want them, it’s okay. I just thought that I might-“

You watch as the man you had met weeks before steps into the dim light. Breath catches in your throat as you are met with the face of the villain that has filled your screen for weeks now.

Dabi.

The fire-wielding villain responsible for the deaths of more than 30 people and most likely by the end of this exchange, another.

He is taller than you remember. Towering a full foot over you, his intimidating figure looms in the dim light. Your eyes follow the line of his scarred skin over his cheeks, down his neck, over exposed collarbones before disappearing beneath the neck of his shirt. Heat fills your face at your wandering gaze and you’re thankful for the lack of lighting.

“Who says I don’t want cookies?” Dabi smirks, taking a step closer. His steps are careful; small and reserved as if trying not to frighten you.

“No one. I just don’t want to accuse anyone of anything.” You stammer through your retort, recalling that first conversation.

“So, it is you then.” Dabi muses.

He takes a step forward and when you don’t back away, takes another. The same dance is repeated until he is less than a foot away. Blue eyes are narrowed on you, brows furrowed in intrigue. Same blue as before. Same blue eyes as Touya.

His apprehensive and fascination leave as quickly as it came and you're left staring at a man who looked like he wanted nothing more to do with you.

“So, pretty girl, what can I do for you?” tone casual and smooth as if he had called you that a million times over. “You’ve gone through all this trouble to what?”

“I wanted to talk to you about something.” You had debated lying but you had already jumped through enough loops to get this meeting, you aren’t in the mood to play games and risk his irritation.

Dabi tilts his head to the side as if to get a better look at you. The way he moves into entirely human, shifting more into that of a preternatural begin and it has your heart racing.

“Talk about what, angel?” his eyes blaze blue as he notices the twitch in your lips at the byname. “About the league? About you? Me?”

“About you.”

Heat pools in your stomach at his affectionate pet name, embarrassment following suit. You should not be letting him get to you the way he is but it could also be a good bargaining chip. If you couldn’t afford his services monetarily, physical payment would not be entirely painful.

There is a pause as if he is debating continuing this conversation.

“We can talk about me but first, I want to ask you something.”

You summon as much false confidence as you can and answer. “Sure.”

The insincerity of your act is palpable, but Dabi lets you go, lets you take this small win.

“How long did it take you to find me?” his question seems genuine, interested in just how exclusive access to him is.

An exhausted sigh leaves your body at the mention of the time that you had put into locating him.

His lips quirk at the gesture.

“Four months and 2 weeks, I think.”

An irrationally long time but there are questions that demanding answers.

“So you’ve spent almost five months thinking about me?” he taunts.

Me. The emphasis on the pronoun doesn’t evade you but you don’t have time to dwell on his excitement.

“Yes. And now I’ve answered two of your questions, can I ask one?”

Dabi shrugs and reaches for the box in your hands. Rough fingers brush against the back of your hands, goosebumps skittering over your skin at the contact. He takes his time opening the small white box, bottom lip pulled between his teeth in contemplation at the contents before him and after a full minute of silently deliberation, does he pick one. Slender unscarred fingers dig into the box, fishing out the biggest and most chocolate filled treat.

“Did you make these?” Dabi holds up the choc chip cookie, inspecting the biscuit in the low light.

“That’s three questions now.” you announce, keeping score. “and yes, I made them this morning.”

The making of the desserts had been a coping mechanism on your part. Too nervous to sit still but not so overstimulated you were willing to exercise to shake off the extra energy, you turned to an activity you hadn’t touched since university. The recipe was one you know by heart, having it gifted to you by your mother on your eighteenth birthday, you were free to think as your body worked through the motions. However, the purpose behind you baking said sweets was not entirely self soothing.

Dabi nods and bites into the biscuit.

“I know you already said you don’t know the guy I mentioned when I first met you and I haven’t mentioned him to anyone again just like you asked me, and I figured with you being a villain, you might have connections that I don’t have and you can access more information as to what happened to him and I promise that I can pay. I’ll pay whatever you want but I don’t really have that much but I’ll pay in food, and that’s kinda why I brought some cookies to show that I can bake but that will only be a small amount because I’m good for a couple thousand-“ you reach into your back pocket to fish out your wallet. “I promise, I won't ever mention this to anyone, but I just really need your help, Dabi.” The juxtaposition of your pastel purple Kuromi wallet holding thousands of dollars as payment for a villain’s services almost makes you chuckle but the lack of recognition from your companion causes you to pocket the purse.

Dabi’s stare is unamused as he chews.

“Why is this guy so important to you?” he asks around a mouthful of chocolate. “You’re willing to blow thousands on some dead guy, not to mention you’ve risked your life coming here, so why is he so special?”

Your fingers curl into a fist, nails digging into your palm before you relax and answer.

“Because he died in a really weird way, and I need to know if there was anything I could have done to prevent it.”

“That’s a stupid reason.” Dabi spits out.

A frown tugs at your mouth.

“He’s dead. Who cares how he died and whether you could stop it or not.” He continues, rolling his eyes as your frown forms. “What’s the real reason you’re looking for answers? There’s something else.”

“It’s stupid.” You mutter, suddenly embarrassed at the reasoning for your investigation.

“Ohh, it can’t be that stupid if you’ve put all this effort in.” Dabi croons. “Come on, angel. You’ve gotta tell me why if I’m gonna do all this work looking for him.”

You take in a deep breath in hopes of smothering the tears that are threatening to spill but the lump sticking in your throat has other plans.

“Because he was my best friend and I loved him and I never got to say goodbye.” You sniff, nose starting to run as the tears build. “Please.”

Dabi stares at you.

“You made these?” the question comes out of left field.

You blink at the villain, unaware as to where he is taking the conversation but answer him nonetheless.

“Yes, I did. It’s stupid I know, bringing cookies as a bargaining chip but I-“

“Your mom’s cookies are better.”  Dabi interrupts.

My what? My mom?

“What?”

He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “I’m sorry but your mom’s cookies will always be the best.”

Your jaw slackens as you stare at the man before you.

“My mother?”

“Yes. Your mom made better cookies and it’s not for lack of trying, yours are really good but they’ll never beat your moms.”

Is he fucking with you? Is this some elaborate psychological warfare that he enacted on all his victims? Are you about to die? How does he know about your mother’s cookies?

“Aww, don’t get upset Chihiro. I'm just being honest.”

The nickname rattles your soul.

Touya.

Before you can even register that you are moving, you have crossed the space between your bodies and swung at the villain.

Your clenched fist collides with his jaw, surprising him out of his teasing. You fall forward, knees the first point of contact as you collapse on top of your long-dead best friend. Your brain can’t keep up, unable to process the life-altering information that had been thrown at you so casually. In most high pressure situations, you would retreat inwards and carefully unpack each and every detail of the occurrence like you were a kid under a Christmas tree; not a package left untouched, but you don’t have that luxury in the current moment. You had seconds to react and for some reason, the primal part buried deep within you chose violence.

Hot fat tears stream down your cheeks as you grip Dabi’s cheeks in your hand, his skin rough beneath your fingers.

“You’ve been alive this whole time?” you cry, fingers digging into his cheeks and when no answer comes you ask again, the palm of your hand connects with his cheek in a sharp slap. “You left me to think you were dead, but you’ve been alive?”

Below you, the villain stares up in disbelief. Eyes wide at the mad woman above him, screeching like a banshee let loose. His thin shirt is scrunched tightly between your fingers, pulling the material taunt against his body. You have no control over your actions, feral and bowing to your emotions. You watch as your hand slips to his neck, pushing at the base of his throat.

Finger wraps around your wrist, pulling your weight off his windpipe and then the world shifts.

You are flipped over as easily as a leaf in the wind. Now on your back, the dust that had been kicked up from the floor sticks in your lungs and you cough as you cry.

Dabi hovers above you. Legs on either side of your hips, hands pinning yours above your head preventing you from causing any more harm to him. You try to kick, to wrench your hands from his grasp, throw him off you with your hips but nothing. You fight back against your opponent, teeth gnashing as you desperately try to find purchase on skin but he has done this too many times before to leave anything to chance. All points of access to an injury on his behalf are sealed up, held high above you and there is nothing you can do to reach.

Your cries are loud and deep and aching. Air leaves you with each heaving sob and you fear you may never breathe again. Spit and tears mix in a hot mess across your cheeks and you would wipe away the mess if not for your hands held above.

“I hate you so much.” You seethe, teeth clenched as you breathe in. “I fucking hate you.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” You hear Dabi apologising over and over again.

A hand brushes over your forehead, then your cheeks, then your jaw.

“You left me.” You wail. “You left me there, all alone.”

Your chest heaves, air being gulped down as if you had been held underwater to the point of drowning and it felt like you had been. You had been held under for so many years and now you were getting a moment of air, and your brain could not process it. 

You take a few more breaths, calming the blood roaring in your ears and pounding heart and finally when your breathing returns to a semi-acceptable rhythm, do you finally acknowledge the man above you.

Dabi glides his palm along your jaw, thumb brushing over your cheekbone before resting his fingers along the side of your neck.

“I’m so sorry.”

A frown pulls at the corners of his mouth.

There is no longer a villain before you. Dabi does not exist. The boy above you is Touya. Your Touya.

You knew it. You knew it was him all along.

“Is it really you?” your voice is hoarse from crying.

“If I answer, you need to promise to keep it a secret,” he whispers, free hand curling in the ends of your hair that lay splayed out beneath you.

“Promise.” You nod and hold out your pinkie the way you did so many times as children.

Touya interlocks his pinkie with yours.

Fresh tears prick at your eyes.

“Hi, Touya,” you whisper.

“Hi.” He whispers back, hand pulling away from yours to glide over your jaw and slot into the hair at the nape of your neck. “I missed you.”

You wrap your arms around his waist and pull his body against yours in a bone-crushing hug. A laugh leaves your friend as he loops his arm around the back of your neck, holding you close. You pull back, face now centimetres from him and wait for him to make the next move. Your body follows his breaths, following his lead just the way you would follow him all those years ago. A lump forms in your throat and you know you look insane; hair mused, cheeks flushed and soaked in tears, eyes still red and crying.

Touya closes the distance, mouth hovering above yours and you think he is going to kiss you but nothing comes.

“Did you really love me?”

A sob leaves you involuntarily.

“I loved you so much, you have no idea.” The truth spills from you. “I love you so much.”

At the confession, Touya kisses you.

His mouth is soft on yours in the gentlest of kisses, almost as if he was afraid that you would fall apart if he pushed any harder. You part your lips to test the waters and when Touya follows your lead opening his mouth against yours, you grip onto the shirt bunched up around his waist. He lets you lead, lets you take control and set the pace for the first few minutes. Following your moves and pressure against your body to not push you any more than you already had been but as you whimper beneath him, his demeanour shifts.

Fingers tighten in your hair and the hand that had been holding himself up comes to rest on your waist, slipping beneath your body to pull you closer to him. Your mouth opens wider beneath his and you feel his tongue trace your bottom lip before flicking into your mouth. Menthol and chocolate fill your senses and you scramble for more, hands gripping his face as you desperately try to get your fill of him; of Touya. The steel of the staples bites into your palm but you don’t care, don’t care what form you have him in, you have your Touya back.

You’re being lifted off the floor, hoisted to sit on his lap, feeling the entirety of his body against yours.

You pull away to stare at him, not believing this is happening and that at any moment you are going to wake up or snap out of your delusion.

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” Touya asks, eyes frantically searching for the reason you aren’t kissing him anymore.

Your chest constricts at his concern. The same sweet and caring boy you fell in love with all those years ago.

“I’m okay, I just-“You stroke his cheeks and he leans into your touch, inhaling a shaky breath.“I missed you so much. There was so much we didn’t get to do.”

He frowns and nuzzles further into your palm. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I don’t want you to apologise, I just want..” You can’t form the words. Can’t articulate the need within you for him. All these years you’ve held a torch for your deceased best friend. All these years you could have had him with you and now that you do, you aren’t letting go. “I just want you.”

Touya’s frown deepens. “Even now?”  His thumbs stroke circles along your clothed skin.

You know he is referring to his crimes. All the bad he has done and probably will do. You do not care. You had long ago abandoned your hope in the heroes of society, having been granted a look into the past of the now top hero. There is nothing for you in that world, nothing on offer that could sway your feelings for the man below you.

“Even now, and tomorrow and the day after that and yesterday and the day before and the month before that” You smile, knowing you weren’t making sense but none of this made sense. “I never forgot about you.”

Touya’s eyebrows knit together in an expression you don’t know and for a moment you panic; worried you had crossed a line that you didn’t know existed. You want to apologise, take back the words that had so carelessly tumbled out but his grip on your body stops you.

“I never stopped thinking about you,” he sighs, hands sliding up to press into the small of your back.

“Really?” you beam, unable to stifle the excitement that grows in you at his confession.

You are no longer an adult woman sitting in a dirty and dusty warehouse; you are fifteen and hearing your crush confess words you had been so desperately wishing to be spoken.

Your best friend’s fingers trailing over your spine pull you back to the present.

“Never for a single second,” he testes the waters and slips one hand under the hem of your shirt. “I never wanted to forget you.”

When no protest on your behalf comes, Touya slips his other hand beneath the material and begins to trace shapes into your skin.

“What did you think about?” your question is breathless, head beginning to swim as you feel heat bloom in your stomach.

Touya hums in thought, fingers beginning to climb your ribs. “Good things. Great things actually.” hands splay over the band of your bra. “some bad things but that isn’t important.”

Your thighs slip further apart at the implication; weight now fully resting atop his hips. There is no doubt that he can feel the heat from between your legs, the warmth that had begun to pool in the seam of your panties.

“Bad things?” you ask the question without knowing what kind of answer you would get. “I was nothing but nice to you, what bad things could you be thinking of?”

You feel his cock twitch at your innocence. Perfect.

Your answer comes in the form of an action. Touya leans forward and captures your mouth in a searing kiss. All teeth and tongue as his fingers pressed hard into your spine, holding you against his body as if you were a buoy and he was lost at sea. Your own hands begin to wander, sliding from where they came to rest on his neck, into the hair at the nape of his neck and as he digs his teeth into your bottom lip, you pull at the strands between your digits.

Touya pulls away, breathless.

“I always kept an eye on you, you know.” he pants, pushing your body away only enough to ogle you freely. “And I’ve gotta say you grew up so well.”

There are two thoughts that cross your mind in that spilt second. One: to bring up the fact he has kept you within his sighs for years, has been in the shadows of you life and how there is a part of you, not that big but enough to plant a seed of betrayal, that we can’t forgive him for that. Two: to throw caution to the wind and give into the part of you that aches for him.

The latter wins out.

“I did always think that Dabi was really handsome” you admit, an air of nonchalance in your words.

“Oh yeah? Even with all the new mods?”

“New mods?” you laugh. “Why do you make it sound like you’ve upgraded a game or something?”

Touya laughs with you.

“I’m serious,” vulnerability swims in his eyes as he looks up at you waiting for praise. “Do you really think that I’m still handsome?”

You nod and duck your head closer to his. “I still think you’re so handsome and you will always be handsome, which is really unfair.”

His lips are pressed against yours in a soft kiss. It's gentle and sweet, with no hint of the darkness lurking just below.

“Even after all these years how do you manage to make me so weak?” Touya pulls away to admire you.”You, my pretty girl, are my weakness.”

He tucks your hair behind your ears, holding your cheeks in his cupped hands and pulls you back in for a kiss and you melt into his touch at the possessive compliment.

“All these years, I never thought I’d get to talk to you again let alone touch you.” His mouth moves to your neck, pressing sloppy open-mouthed kisses against your skin. “but, fuck, have I thought about it.”

Your skin flushes at his confession.

His teeth sink into your neck, hard enough to leave a mark but not enough to break the skin.

“Thought about kissing you like this” his words are slurred.

Slick begins to pool in your panties, the seam of your jeans dampening.

“Thought about having you in my lap, just the way you are and how good you’d feel on my cock.”

Your head swims at his words.

“When I saw you again for the first time a few years ago, it took everything in me to not walk up to you and kiss you right there and then.” He bites lower, nipping at your collarbone.

Rough hands make their way under your shirt, exploring the expanse of your back.

“Thought about holding you and kissing you and taking you home.” he bites again. “God, the amount of time I’ve spent imagining you under me or spread out just for me.” Breathing becomes hard. “All for me, just for me.” He chants your name as if it were a prayer.

You grind your hips over his, feeling his cock hard and aching beneath you. Touya groans against your throat, fingers digging into your skin. Hands begin to wander downwards until they find purchase on the buttons of his pants, stopping at the metal for approval from the man beneath you and when it comes in a rushed yes, please you flick open the clasp. Your movements are awkward and nervous, having never thought this would happen and you can tell Touya is just as jittery. His fingers dip under the waistband of your pants, toying with the soft elastic of the band. Your hands follow his and pull at the material, trying to pull it down but stop at the realisation there is no way could could do this and still look seductive.

“I’m trying really hard to make this hot, but I don’t think it’s gonna work.” You admit, giggling at the absurdity.

Touya shakes his head, removing his hands from your hips to hold your face again. “I don’t want to fuck you here.” He presses a kiss to your nose.

Before you can ask, he is answering.

“I’m not gonna have the first time I fuck you be on a dirty floor in a random building.” A kiss on your right cheek.

“But what if I want that?” you retort, hand reaching down between the two of you.

His breath catches as your fingers brush against his clothed cock.

“I know you want that,” he pulls your hand away and entwines your fingers. “and you know I do too,” A kiss to your left cheek. “But I had a plan back when we were younger,” he brings your hand to his lips. “and I’ve already had so much taken from us that I’m not letting our first time be taken too.”

Your heart squeezes. He really is the same boy you fell in love with.

“So as much as we both want it, please let me do this, okay?”

You pout, a habit you had formed long ago that usually got you what you wanted from him.

“Please, baby.” The pet name is a gut punch.

 You nod and hold up your pinkie.

“You promise?”

Touya grins wider than you had ever seen and entwines his finger with yours.

“I promise.”

May 17th 2477 Touya: aged twenty-six You: aged twenty-five

-------

ᰔ a/n: NOT PROOFREAD! ohmygosh, this was a long haul. I wrote it and then rewrote it and then rewrote it and so on and so forth till I got here. tiny TINY smut cause i didn’t wanna write a whole ass thing so I might do a one shot of it later. this exhausted me holy- also shout out to billie eilish lmao her entire new album helped me write this mainly chihiro, the greatest and blue but also harry styles' as it was and madds buckley's brother

#http tokki #⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖ dabi #dabi todoroki #dabi x reader #bnha dabi #dabi x reader fluff #dabi x self insert #dabi x you #dabi x o #dabi x y/n #touya imagine #touya fluff #touya todoroki fanfic #touya x reader angst #touya x y/n #touya x reader #touya x you #toya todoroki #toya x reader #toya todoroki x reader

[pixiedustnfairies]

Green-eyed monster

My obsession with Larissa Weems is back, so you're getting a "You look beautiful with my lipstick all over you face" story 👀 I'm sorry if there's any mistakes, I did tried to reread as best as I could 👉👈

Larissa was not the jealous type, and even less the type to fall this quickly. She had devoted her life to her career, as keeping her students and staff safe was always her priority. She was the kind of person that would make an auditorium go silent as soon as she stepped a foot in it, the one who radiated confidence even through the worst crisis. And yet, she found herself in the corner of the gymnasium at the Rave’N, her arms crossed and her jaw clenched as she watched another teacher being way too close to you to her liking. 

Truth to be told, you had always fascinated Larissa. The first day she had interviewed you, she barely asked you any questions, as your answers were already everything she could wish for a first year teacher. When she had hired you, the smile you gave her right then would have made her knees go weak if she wasn’t sitting already. She had done everything in her power to see the same smile again through the years you had worked together, the kind of one that lights up the whole room and made her forget about the world around her. Her affection towards you slowly took another turn, as she began by popping up in your classroom to invite you for lunch, that slowly turned into dinner invitations to late nights drinking wine in her office when everybody had gone to their rooms. Truth to be told, she was head over heels in love with you, but she was too afraid to ruin your professional relationship, your friendship.

And as the Rave’N approached, she wished nothing more than invite you to attend the dance with her, but the fear of rejection paralyzed her. In her heart, she was praying you’d make the first step, but shook her head every time at such an absurd thought, as she was sure you didn’t feel the same way she did. 

And here she was, at a dance full of teenagers she was supposed to watch over, if only her eyes would be able to leave your figure. You had decided to wear a simple black dress that reached your feet, and Larissa forgot how to breathe when she had noticed the slit on your left side, exposing your leg everytime you’d take a step forward. She had also chuckled when she had noticed that you were wearing your typical Nike shoes, remembering that you hated heels from one of your late-night conversation in her office. Larissa uncrossed her arms to flatten the invisible wrinkles on her dress, an attempt to distract herself from the fire burning inside her stomach. She had opted for a golden dress that reached below her knees, the long sleeves covering her arms in a final attempt to remain professional. She had put thoughts into it, opting for something out of her regular style to impress you, but not daring to exceed the limit as she was still the principal. She huffed as she noticed you smiling at the other teacher, one she was truly never fond of considering her very obvious advances on you. Except you never seemed to notice, as you’d always smile back at her politely and keep up with whatever conversation she was trying to have with you. Larissa was not a jealous woman, but tonight, she was boiling inside. 

She finally decided she had enough and walked up to you, her heels echoing despite the loud music playing. You raised your eyes and met hers, smiling at her in a way you only did when you noticed her presence close to you, not bothering to listen to your coworker anymore. She seemed to realize something had caught your attention and she followed your gaze, seeing the principal making her way to you, quickly mumbling she’d see you later as the older woman finally reached you. You chucked, knowing how intimidating Larissa could be. But not with you. Never with you.

“Hi,” she beamed at you, placing herself in front of you. She noticed the way the dress hugged every curve of your body, as her eyes made their way to your exposed leg, making her bite her lip involuntarily. “You look marvelous tonight, darling,” she said, her eyes making their way back to yours, only to catch you doing the same, watching every inch of her body, your cheeks colored in a soft shade of pink at her words. You had noticed how she only used pet names with you, something that made your heart skip a beat every time, and tonight was no exception.

“Thank you,” you breathed out, an attempt to regulate your heartbeat at the compliment. “You look incredible Larissa,” the twinkle in your eyes not having gone unnoticed by the principal, who’s anger was immediately forgotten as her attention was solely on you. 

She smiled at you softly, her cheeks now matching the color of yours. You watched her in awe, fighting the urge to touch her, to reach for her hands, to have any kind of contact with her. She was truly the most beautiful woman you had ever seen. You always craved being near her, to a point where she clouded every thought you had. You had often wondered if her lips were as soft as they seemed. She was everything you had ever looked for in someone, intelligent, brave, kind, patient. You had wanted to ask her to the dance, and God knows you had tried. Every time you had faced her about to do so, you had choked on your words, changing topic as if nothing had happened. And defeated, you had decided to let it be. 

“They certainly did a good job,” she got you out of your head as she raised her hand to gesture to the room, where you noticed Wednesday doing a strange dance that made you chuckle. 

“They did, I’m so happy they’re finally having fun and getting a chance to unwind after all the craziness that happened,” you confessed, staring into her blue orbs once again.

“Are you having fun?” she questioned, taking a step forward to hear you better, the music blasting louder than before making it difficult to hear your voice. She wanted to hear your voice. 

“I am now that you’re here.” You tilted your head to the side. “I was looking forward seeing you”, you confessed, unable to keep this information for yourself any longer. Surely, Larissa had to know she was the only person you wanted to spend time with in the crowd, she deserved to know, to be reminded.

She took a step forward, her face incredibly close to yours as she put her hands on your shoulders, making you melt at the contact. Her perfume made you feel dizzy and you breathed it in, the smell just so Larissa. “Do you wanna step out a moment? It’s getting too loud,” she said in your ear, and you missed the contact of her hands on your body as soon as she stepped away, only being able to nod in agreement.

Larissa turned on her heels towards the door, looking back to make sure you were following. She noticed the same teacher that was talking to you earlier standing by the door, fire coming back to her eyes as she announced to her that she was stepping out a moment and to keep an eye on the room. The other woman’s eyes had widened as she noticed the principal approach, only to quickly nod before stepping further into the room, disappearing from your view. The background noise seemed further away as soon as the doors closed behind you, feeling like a relief to your ears. You followed Larissa to her office, entering behind her as she held the door open for you, making you blush once again. You had never been treated this way before, never had anyone holding a door for you, and for some, the small gesture would have gone unnoticed, but not to you. And even if she was doing it simply out of kindness, or so you thought, it was still enough to make the blood rise to your cheeks.

She opened a cabinet and pulled out a bottle of red wine and two glasses, expertly opening it and handing you a half-full glass. You thank her before sitting on the couch, Larissa following your movements and sitting next to you. 

“It’s nice to get some quiet,” you broke the silence, pulling the glass to your lips, tension leaving your shoulders at the contact of the liquid. “It feels so comfortable being here with you”, you continued before kicking off your shoes and crossing your legs, exposing the skin of your tight. 

Larissa eyes never left the new exposed skin, smiling at your childish gesture at first only to find herself completely hypnotized with this part of your body she had never seen before. 

“Like was you see?” you teased her, taking another sip of wine. This seemed to snap her out of her trance, raising her gaze to meets yours only to find a smirk playing on your lips. The liquid seemed to give you the bravery you didn’t have before, and the looks Larissa kept giving you since she had first approached you in the gymnasium certainly helped with the turmoil of uncertainty you were feeling inside.

“What if I do?” She took a sip as well, her answer almost daring you to continue. Truly, you were taken by surprise, and a little spark of hope light up in your heart at her words. You had noticed the way she was looking at you when your coworker was talking to you. You had never seen that look before, it almost looked like she was angry. But maybe you were mistaken, you soon realized. Was she.. jealous?

You raised your hand and reached for a loose curl that had freed itself from her complicated updo, brushing it behind her ear. The contact of your fingers on her skin made her shiver, and you heard her whimper softly when you retreated your hand back. You put your glass on the decorative table in front of you, moving forward to grab hers out of her hand and doing the same. You sat back closer to her than before, the exposed skin of your leg brushing against her own. 

“Then I’d say like what I see just as much,” noticing the way her breath caught in her throat. Her eyes flickered to your lips for a second, her heart being so fast in her chest that she was sure you could hear it too. Except that yours was beating just as fast, and the room suddenly seemed a lot warmer than it was seconds ago.

“Then we have to do something about that,” she whispered, as she forced herself to look away from your lips, only to find your pupils completely blown, focused on her own lips before meeting hers. And she was sure her own eyes mirrored yours, craving to feel you against her, to have your lips on hers. Her hand gently cupped your cheek, watching your reaction as she leaned forward, for any sign you didn’t want it, giving you time to move back if it was the case. But you didn’t, your attention now back on her lips as your hands found their way to her waist, pulling on the fabric of her dress slightly as you met her halfway.

Her body pressed against yours, holding you impossibly close to her, her free hand moving to the back of your head in an attempt to pull you even closer, which was impossible considering the angle you were in. It was the softest, most loving kiss you had ever received in your life, and yet, it was full of passion, of repressed emotions that could finally come to light. Nothing mattered except her in that moment, loosing yourself in the kiss you had craved for so long. She pushed you backward, your back hitting the soft couch as her lips never left yours, taking advantage of the new space she had created by straddling you. You couldn’t feel anything but the weight of her body on yours, how perfectly it fit. She only pulled away when her lungs were screaming for air, resting her forehead against yours with no indication to move away from you. 

“Wow,” was all you could breathe out as you tried to catch your breath, your eyes still close. A soft smile was playing on your lips as your hands holding Larissa’s waist firmly into place hinted her that you wanted her just as close and she did. Your mind was trying to process was had just happened when she kissed you again, this time only lasting a few seconds, her thumbs softly stroking the sides of your cheeks. 

“Wow indeed,” she smiled against your lips, “I’ve wanted to do that for a while”, you confessed, brushing your nose against hers, not daring to move, not ready to pop the little bubble you had just created. 

“So did I, sweetheart. And we can do it again, and again, and again,” you giggled as she kissed you every single time she pronounced the word. This was probably what heaven felt like, being in Larissa’s arms, being able to kiss her so freely. Her brows suddenly furrowed, making your smile fade as you noticed the turmoil that seemed to have taken place inside her head.

“Rissa?” you questioned, her features softening as she noticed the uncertainty painted on your face. 

“It’s nothing bad darling. Well, kind of, because we have to go back to the dance”, she groaned, tension leaving your body at once and you giggled when she hid her face in the crook of your neck, her breath tickling your skin. “I promise you we’ll finish what we started after, as I’m not done kissing you yet”. 

She raised her head from her new favorite place to hide and sat down, immediately missing your warmth. She extended her arm so you’d grab her hand and sit down next to her. She handed you your shoes, sending her a grateful smile as you quickly put them back on before standing up next to her, facing each other once again. “You look beautiful with my lipstick all over your face”, she teased as she used her thumb to wipe the excess her kisses had left on you, making you blush as you did the same, even though it wasn’t so smuggled on her. She opened the door for you once again, your health melting at how thoughtful she was, your mind spiraling in a bliss you had never experienced before.

“Maybe I should start wearing heels,” you whispered under your breath, as she seemed so much taller than you now that you wanted to reconnect your lips to hers, making her chuckle softly. She led you to the doors of the Rave’N once again, her hand never leaving yours. The loud music didn't seemed to bother you as much as before, your mind being completely elsewhere. As you passed in front of your coworker, you noticed her attention focused on your joint hands, Larissa’s grip tightened on your hand before you poked her side, making her try to move away to the side giggling, and you mentally noted that she was ticklish for later on. “No need to be jealous, I was always yours,” you told her, her features softening, the smile you gave her leaving no doubt to it.

#Larissa weems x reader #Larissa x reader #x reader

[saphronethaleph]

Motivation

“What do you actually get out of this?” Darth Vader asked.

His Master, Darth Sidious, the Emperor of the Galaxy, frowned.

Then looked at Vader.

“What are you talking about?” he demanded.

“I think I was quite clear,” Vader said, implacably. “I asked you what you actually get out of this.”

“This, meaning… what?” the Emperor replied. “The Death Star project? That’s so we can dispense with the remaining ridiculous twaddle of the Senate.”

“Not what I meant,” Vader replied.

Palpatine shot him a glare. “Then what you meant was not obvious, was it, my apprentice?”

Vader’s respirator hissed.

“What do you get out of this,” he stressed. “Out of being Emperor.”

Palpatine stared at Vader for several seconds.

“I… am the ruler… of the galaxy,” he said, slowly.

“Yes,” Vader agreed, readily. “But what do you get out of it?”

The Sith cyborg folded his arms. “What do you get out of being Emperor that you could not have got out of merely being the Supreme Chancellor? What do you get out of either of those things that you could not have achieved merely by being quite rich?”

“The destruction of the Jedi could not have been achieved by merely being rich,” Palpatine snapped.

“They didn’t know you existed, Master,” Vader replied. “Though, I will grant you, it would have been an ongoing risk… but, at the same time, I must remind you that the Jedi are now all but exterminated. You are most certainly no longer at risk from them.”

He shrugged. “But I digress. If you hadn’t become a Sith in the first place, you wouldn’t have been at risk from the Jedi at all. So… what do you get out of this whole process?”

“Revenge,” Sidious said, firmly. “Sweet revenge.”

“...no,” Vader replied, and it was now his turn to speak slowly. “You didn’t join the Sith to get revenge on the Jedi. Before you joined the Sith you had no reason to. And even if you did… congratulations, Master. Your goal is complete. What do you get out of it now?”

“Why are you so insistent on asking these questions, Vader?” Palpatine demanded. “Is this some kind of misguided Jedi impulse?”

“It’s nothing to do with the Jedi!” Vader retorted, then his respirator hissed as he controlled his irritation. “It’s everything to do with the Sith. The Dark Side is the path of desire, and I Fell for very specific, duracrete motives. Which, by the way, I am still bitter about.”

“Don’t blame me for that,” Palpatine replied. “You’re the one who killed your wife.”

For a long moment, the air in the room seemed to have turned to ice.

“I will use Jedi techniques to repress the memory of you saying that,” Vader said, eventually. “And you should probably be thankful for that.”

Palpatine didn’t say anything.

“...what I’m getting at,” Vader continued, several seconds later, “is that I don’t actually know what you want to do any of this for.”

“I appreciate art?” Palpatine tried to assert, but even to him it came across as more of a suggestion.

“You appreciate it, in a way you could do without being the ruler of the galaxy,” Vader pointed out. “There are things you could do to promote art, and you’re not doing them. In fact…”

Vader’s voice trailed off, as he thought.

“In fact, what?” Palpatine asked. “I am rapidly getting tired of this conversation.”

“I was thinking about the things you do,” Vader replied. “The things which you do that do, or do not, require the powers that you have amassed as the Emperor of the Galaxy, Master. Some of those things are done simply to maintain your power. Like the Death Star project. Other things are things you could do more easily without being Emperor.”

He stepped back and forth, his robe sweeping in the way that took an ancient and particularly extra Sith technique.

“In fact,” he added. “The only thing I can think of that you do, which is not mainly related to maintaining your power and position, and which is rendered easier rather than harder by being Emperor, is racism.”

Palpatine blinked.

“Are you… accusing me of being a racist?” he asked. “But some of my closest political allies are non-human!”

Both Sith examined the sentence he’d just said.

“All right, that’s not particularly convincing,” the Dark Lord of the Sith admitted. “But I also have a hobby of doing things that no sane galaxy would permit. And I do enjoy killing people who annoy me.”

“You do?” Vader asked. “I’ve never noticed it.”

“Of course you wouldn’t, that’s the point,” Sidious replied. “There’s nothing so pleasant as making someone think that they were responsible for the death of a loved one, when it truly served your plan-”

The Emperor’s head came off.

Vader looked at his lightsaber, then at his hand, because something had just happened that he hadn’t actually planned.

The Emperor certainly looked quite surprised about it.

“...hm,” Vader said, eventually. “It appears I now need to find an apprentice.”

#star wars #darth vader #anakin skywalker #sheev palpatine #darth sidious #emperor palpatine

[stellaluna33]

Since you are so good at analyzing characters, what do you think was the point of Dean telling Rory he's engaged? What reaction did he expect? Was he trying to make her jealous? I saw people theorize that he wanted her to talk him out of it but when she tried that he got offended, so what did he want?

Well, first of all, thanks! 🥺 And that's an interesting question. I think the most charitable explanation would be that he thought it would be better if she heard it from him, rather than hearing it from someone else (and news gets around fast in Stars Hollow). I'm not a big fan of Dean, but he DOES try to be a considerate person in general... he just doesn't react well when other people don't respond the way he expects them to... This incident being a case in point. He gets very upset generally when Rory's emotions don't align perfectly with his, so in this case, since he was expressing happiness (I am refraining from saying that he WAS happy, haha. Maybe he was... At the very least, he had convinced himself he was happy and was acting accordingly), he expected Rory to just echo that back. A politely excited, "Wow! That's great!" was probably what he told himself he wanted. Rory, however, was not living in his little fantasy world, where proposing to your girlfriend of 4 months right after fighting with your ex-girlfriend's boyfriend when none of you have yet graduated from highschool seems like a reasonable idea, so she gave him a reality check instead. He did not want a reality check, he wanted blind agreement.

And I really hate to do this, but once again I'm reminded of the things Dean and Rory DO have in common, because this is exactly the way Rory responded to Lorelai after Lorelai questioned her decision to sleep with Dean. In both cases, the questioner was in the right, but the person being questioned didn't want to hear it.

Now, could Dean have also had other motives? Possibly! I've never believed that people can only ever have one reason for doing the things they do! It's usually more complicated than that. So, it's POSSIBLE that he was subconsciously hoping that Rory would be upset that he was marrying someone else. But even in that case, acting hurt and offended would serve his purpose, because it implies that Rory is UNREASONABLE for not being happy for him. So, if she ISN'T happy for him, there must be some OTHER reason, right? Maybe that would push her to think about what other reasons there might be. And even if not, there's a kind of spiteful, poisonous pleasure in feeling wronged and outraged sometimes, isn't there? I think we in the social media age have to admit that that's something a lot of people seem to find addictive. And Rory, after their breakup, had been constantly groveling, trying to "make up" for hurting him, and I think he liked that too. So compliant and eager to please and appease, but now she's CRITICIZING him?! How dare she! She's forgetting her Place, which is that she owes him her meekness and niceness FOREVER now, because this entire situation is Her Fault, and he needs to REMIND her of that. But now I'm venturing into UN-charitable territory. 😂

ANYWAY, these are some Thoughts I've had about the situation.

#Gilmore Girls #Anti Dean Forester #I guess? I tried to be neutral but I think I failed towards the end there. #😂 #And on that note... I kept wanting to say that Dean would be a veteran pearl-clutcher... If... #If he didn't insist on his wife being the one to wear them... #🤭

[gilbirda]

Friendly neighborhood vigilante. Chapter 27

BatmanxDP crossover. JasonxJazz

[Read on AO3] [Read on FF.net]

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Jason knew it was going to be an interesting day when loud knocking woke him up way too early than when he was supposed to wake up.

He glanced at his phone, wondering if one of his more annoying siblings had decided to torment him for fun, but there were no new messages.

“I know you are there! Open up!”

Jason had half a thought to ignore Danny until he gave up. Or phased through the door—

“You know I can just phase through this thing, right? I’m being polite— this is me being polite and respecting boundaries. So open this door and let me in!”

He groaned loudly and sat up on his bed. “Whatever, man. Come in or welcome to my abode or whatever you guys need to access.”

Surely enough, after a few seconds Danny walked in looking at him with an eyebrow raised. He wasn’t even fazed by his naked chest and the scars on his skin.

“Did you just call me a vampire?”

He shrugged. “Jazz was a bit weird about permission to enter the first time she came over.” He yawned. “And made the same face when I asked about the vampire thing.”

“That’s because Vlad is a creepy vampire wannabe.” Danny crossed his arms and leaned on the doorway of his bedroom, watching him get up and walk to the bathroom to freshen up. “Ghosts can be weird about entering territory when it’s about a haunt, but you are too weak to make a claim yet.”

Jason hummed, washing his face and deciding to talk about his ghostliness later. Maybe this could be a good chance to bring up the idea of that visit to the yetis.

“In any case, Jazz has no actual reason to be weird about coming into your apartment… apart from the fact that she likes you.”

Jason looked up and glanced at Danny’s reflection in the mirror, watching him with a small smirk. Was the shovel talk going to happen now? He sighed. Better get that over with.

“Why are you here, Danny?”

The younger man uncrossed his arms and glanced away, thinking. Was it that bad?

Finally, he looked at him with new resolve, his blue eyes steeled with determination. “You are treating me to lunch.” It wasn’t a question.

“Am I?”

“Yes. We are going to this Batburger place that everyone talks about online.”

Jason walked back to his room and picked up his phone. It was almost one in the afternoon. No wonder he was hungry. He shrugged and went to get some jeans and a shirt, ignoring the burning stare of his guest on his back.

Soon they were on the move to the nearest Batburger that was just around the corner. It was the only one that ventured into the Narrows and it showed — Red Hood had stopped a robbery in this place enough times that he knew the day and night shifts by name, and had gotten enough free burgers as well.

Danny was quiet the whole way, checking his phone and humming and/or groaning at the texts on the screen.

Once at the Batburger, both placed their order and Danny abandoned Jason to pay as he searched for a place to sit down. Jason didn’t miss how the chosen booth had perfect vision of the exits and was away from any windows or prying eyes from the staff.

He checked his phone one more time, but he didn’t magically have more messages from Jazz that could offer a light on what Danny intended to get out of interrogating him. He was pretty sure by now that a shovel talk was not the goal of the conversation, which opened the question, what the fuck was Danny’s deal with the silence and seriousness.

Finally, their order was done and he brought everything to their booth, noticing that Danny left him the disadvantageous seat that made him face only Danny and give his back to the door. He didn't like it, but would survive just this once.

“Okay,” he didn’t beat around the bush, “whatever it is, just say it.”

“How do you know I have an agenda?”

Jason didn’t even grace that with an answer. Surely Danny must know his poker face was non-existent. He had seen Jazz make better faces, and she was the one who body slammed a thug in front of one of Gotham’s vigilantes and then pretended to be a normal human.

“Okay, okay. World’s best detectives.” He made a dismissive gesture and shoved a bunch of jokerized fries in his mouth. “Hm. These are good.”

They were good, despite the name. Jason loved the damn fries. Still looking Danny in the eye, he picked a fry and slowly bit into it.

“This is not a shovel talk.” Danny started, carefully sipping his drink. “I don’t— Jazz can date whoever she wants and unless you give me reason to think you’d hurt her in any way—”

Jason kept his face totally blank, flashes of her bruised wrist coming to the front of his mind, but Danny narrowed his eyes and stopped eating, interlacing his hands instead.

“I see.”

Jason swallowed. Did he know? How much did he know?

“Jazz told me. About what happened.”

“And?” He tried to act nonchalant, but he knew if Danny could read him when he kept a blank expression, he could see through his attempt.

“Relax. She barely said anything about you. Which,” his eyes glowed green, “tells me more than what she could actually say in words.”

“What do you mean?”

He took his time, grabbing his burger and taking a bite of it. He also chewed slowly, smirking, knowing that he was being a little shit by making him wait.

Finally, he swallowed. “You are not going to eat? The burger is pretty good.”

Jason picked up his burger and bit down, eyes fixed on Danny and his little smirk, waiting what he would do next. He somehow didn’t feel like it was an interrogation and more like he was being watched by a predator taking its time to delight in their prey’s fear.

“I know about the gun.” Jason choked. Danny didn’t move or showed concern. “I know about Batman’s and your interrogation. I know how you treated her.”

Jason felt cold, but kept it together and took a sip of his own drink trying to recover from almost choking to death.

“I—”

“I’m the one talking.” He leaned in, picking another fry and putting it in his mouth. “Again, Jazz didn’t tell me much but I know her and I know how to read her.” He chewed, eyes still glowing green. “I need to know what happened.”

“But you said—”

“I need to hear it from you.”

Jason could almost visualize the crown burning over Danny’s head. He was talking to the King, not his girlfriend’s younger brother.

He briefly considered trying to hide, or maybe offer a shitty excuse, or maybe a watered down version of the facts — but Danny had already let him know he had ways to know he was bullshitting him.

He sighed and bit more of his burger.

He knew Jazz valued Danny’s opinion, but in the case of the young king deeming his acts enough to keep them apart, would she go against his wishes and still want him? There was a real possibility that after this conversation their already complex relationship became even more impossible.

He felt a pinch in his chest, the familiar resentment he felt the previous night coming back full force. Was all of this worth it? Was she worth it? Worth of being stared down by this unnerving creature, ruler of another dimension, who could easily smite him out of existence?

He watched his hands, almost feeling the touch of her skin. His scarred knuckles softly caressed by her fingers as they watched a movie. The familiar weight of her hair as he pushed it aside to kiss her.

Jazz was… She was… Jazz made him feel wanted. No conditions, no fine print, no agendas. After thinking about it, he was more and more convinced that Jazz was not the kind of person who hid a secret plan or exit strategy. That she was as broken as he was, forced to be a warrior since teenagehood and stumbling through life searching for purpose.

He understood they weren’t so different after all, so maybe she understood that side of him too.

Jason looked up at Danny, who patiently waited for an answer. His small smile betrayed that he knew about his internal turmoil, and was just humoring him while he gathered his thoughts.

“I love her.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

He nodded. “I don’t— She and I—” He grumbled, one hand ruffling his hair. “I have been betrayed before, and when Bruce came forward with all that stuff… I thought I was being deceived again.”

“You didn’t ask Jazz if it was true.”

“I didn’t. It was just too perfect. Made too much sense.” Danny narrowed his eyes. “I understand now that it was all bullshit, but I found out then that Jazz gave me that damn green stuff and I don’t how much you know about me, but me and the Lazarus Pits don’t have a good history.”

Danny nodded and bit his burger. His eyes also stopped shining. “She saved your life, you know.”

“I know.”

He remembered waking up and finding her eyes watching him. He dismissed them at the moment, but they had been clearly shining green. If he wasn’t so focused on the euphoria of being alive and with her, he would have stopped and accepted that there was a lot more than meets the eye with Jazz.

It didn’t make sense to dwell on that now.

“I already owe her too much.” He admitted after a moment. “But I will repay her with my life if needed.”

Danny’s eyebrows went to his hairline and he started laughing. He slapped the table, laughing so loud that the other patrons of the Batburger were looking at them now.

He sighed. Danny found that even more hilarious and continued laughing.

“Oh man, that’s… You don’t need to be cute with me.” He wiped the few tears gathered in his eyes. “And no need for such declarations of love. Or staking your life on it, pal. When you die, your ass is mine. With how contaminated you already are, and with a previous resurrection, you are definitely one of my subjects when you die.”

Jason had suspected it, but this confirmed it. He wouldn’t know peace even after he died.

Okay.

Whatever. He would deal with that later.

“Jazz and I talked, after what happened. I apologized. I— I won’t do that again. I don’t… I know I’m not exactly—” He stopped to glare at his food. He wasn’t getting anywhere. He breathed in and tried again. “I’m not boyfriend material. I'm a crime lord. I can be violent. When I came back to Gotham, I introduced myself to the criminal Underworld by arranging a meeting with all the lords and giving them their second in command’s heads in a duffel bag.”

Danny nodded along but didn’t say anything. If he was judging him, he wasn’t showing.

“Jazz says she understands my work and from what we learned yesterday maybe she does, but still —”

“Why are you dating my sister, Jason?”

He looked up, and somehow he couldn’t see anything human in Danny. It wasn't just his eyes, it was… everything. Shadows coalesced around him and the bright fluorescent lights from the ceiling blinked in and out of existence. Danny himself looked older, bigger, sprawled on his seat like he was sitting on a throne and lazily watched him from above.

If it were another situation, he would have tried to find out what tricks he used, what kind of magic he possessed to do this to him and not raise alarms in the Batburger.

“What do you mean?” He cleared his throat, feeling it dry, but couldn’t move a finger to reach for his drink.

“If you are such a dangerous man… If you understand you are not ‘boyfriend material’ — “ he made the air quotes “ — and cannot provide the stability or security my sister needs… Why are you still with her?”

Because he loved her? Because she understood him? Because she wasn’t trying to change him, like everyone else?

He couldn’t choose which one to say. And somehow he knew that “love” wasn’t a good enough answer for the Ghost King.

Danny’s left eye twitched. He leaned in. “What tells me that you won’t wake up one day and realize she’s not worth it, Jason? That one day you won’t think that you actually want to go back to the severed heads and the recklessness?” Jason felt his breath leaving him with every pointed question. What was Danny doing? “How can I be sure that my sister is a priority for you?”

As the King leaned back on his seat, Jason could finally take a much needed breath. He pondered the words, how familiar to his own thoughts they were. He had decided that he would let the insanity of Jazz’s life permeate in his, that it wasn’t such a big deal, that they would deal with things as they came.

But was it ever so simple?

Nothing was simple with Jazz. Or with him. He knew that he could never have any resemblance of a normal relationship with a civilian, and even hero relationships had a high chance to fail — the Mission, after all, took place over everything else. Bruce had taught him that, on top of his crime fighting knowledge.

He had already given up by the time he met Jazz, but he said yes because she was supposed to be something simple, something temporary. Mundane.

Was she really those things? Simple? Temporary? Mundane?

No. That’s not what she was, and that’s not why he got into a relationship with her.

Danny’s eyes followed him as he controlled his breathing, the green changing colors as he probably followed his inner turmoil.

“So?”

Jason licked his lips. Why was he staying? Why was he willing to try?

“She chose me.”

Danny arched an eyebrow. He wasn’t expecting that answer.

“She wants me. That day, when I—” he swallowed “ — When I pointed a gun at her and asked her questions like she was some kind of criminal,” he closed his eyes, haunted by her hurt eyes while he accused her, “she was honest when she said she wanted me. Everything else I could easily tell she was hiding something, but about her feelings… there was no deceit.” He remembered her phone, the lock screen picture, his smile. “It could have been anyone else, could have been my own brother, but she chose me.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“It does. It really does. I hurt her, I questioned her, I threatened her, and yet she wanted me. She wanted to give me a chance. I won’t let it go to waste.” He let his shoulders drop, trying to ease the tension. “Not going to lie, I am… wary of this whole Ghost Royalty business, and I know it won’t be easy, but nothing has ever been easy for me.” He shrugged. “I have always had to work harder to get what comes easy for everyone else. I was born here, in the Narrows, and I grew up on the streets.”

“Bruce Rich Dude adopted you.” Danny nodded and looked aside, and the death grip the young man somehow had on their surroundings was eased. The lights stopped flickering.

Jason rolled his eyes at the theatrics. “Yes, but it was short lived. Just like me.” He smiled at Danny’s chuckle. Jazz wasn’t kidding about the death jokes being a norm in her life. “I was murdered at fifteen years old. When I came back, Brucie had another kid taking my place.”

“That’s rough buddy.”

The illusion was completely broken. They were back at the Batburger and Danny was just a guy eating his lunch again. No more eldritch horrors.

“You said this wasn’t a shovel talk.” Jason pointed out, reaching for his drink.

“I wasn’t intending to, honest.” Danny shoved the last of the fries in his mouth. “It’s difficult, you know — being her brother and the King.” He said as he chewed. The contrast of the Ghost King threatening him and not even five minutes later loudly chewing fries without any care wasn’t lost on Jason. “I just…” He made a vague gesture.

“It’s nice that you care.”

Danny glanced at him, surely noticing how charged that sentence was, but didn’t comment on it. “I’ve never seen her be so… careful.” He tilted his head, just like Jazz does. “No. That’s a lie. The last time she behaved like this was when she was covering for me.”

“Covering?”

“Protecting me from our parents.” His eyes glazed over a little bit, remembering. “She doesn’t appreciate dishonesty; but she would cheat, lie and fake smile to Jack and Maddie to keep them away from me.” His eyes were bright blue when he focused back on him. “Just like she tried to pull with me to protect you, bird boy.”

Jason chose to ignore the blooming warmth in his chest and finished the rest of his burger. Danny chuckled, probably knowing what he was thinking. It was getting annoying not being able to hide like he was used to.

“I appreciate your honesty,” the younger man said, placing his head on his hand and resting his elbow on the table. “Your story checks out with what she told me.”

“So you are fine with it?”

“No. Not in a million years,” his smile was definitely threatening, “but somehow you are what my sister wants and she was willing to fight me for you so… you have my interest.”

“Not approval?”

He hummed. “We’ll see about that.” He looked down at the table and lazily pushed aside the empty box. “Keep making her laugh and I will reconsider.” Maybe he noticed Jason’s confused face because he added: “I haven’t heard her laugh in ages.”

“You are joking,” he rolled his eyes, “she laughs and giggles all the time.” Danny wasn’t smiling. “What—”

“You don’t know how she was back there.” His smile turned sad. “I didn’t know how much she was hiding— No, I did know, but I didn’t want to think about it. My sister… She told you about David, but she didn’t say what happened after that. What happened after she killed for the first time. After… everything.”

Danny’s eyes became watery. “I didn’t ask and she didn’t tell me. Every damn time she came back, gave a report and pushed through. I kind of got used to her not coming to me for all this stuff, so I never…” he looked away. “I should have done something. Especially after David. I knew shit went down but I didn’t know it was… that.”

“And what happened? Did she swear off romance?”

“Nothing. She did nothing. She powered through it like she does with everything else — she says she is ‘fine’ and focuses on everyone else, bottling up her emotions, and crying alone when she thinks nobody hears her.”

“Why? Because it's a weakness?”

“Because right after she broke up with him, we had a Siege. I feel like the worst brother ever, but we couldn’t afford her being out of the battle, and then we just… never talked about it?”

Jason hummed and picked up what remained of his burger, shoving it into his mouth as he considered the new piece of information.

He didn’t know how much she wasn’t sharing about her past; but again, there was a lot he wasn’t talking about his. It wasn’t unreasonable for him to be ignorant of aspects of her life at this point.

“In a way,” Danny interrupted his thoughts, “I think it is a good thing she ended up with someone like you.”

Jason lifted an eyebrow. “Someone like me?” A vigilante? A zombie? A criminal?

“She always waited for Robin to fly in and sweep her off her feet. I know this. I’ve read her diary.”

Jason froze. “I’m not Robin.” He growled.

Danny lifted his eyebrows. “You are Red Hood, which is way cooler.” Right. Danny was a fan. “And the Gotham hero she likes the most.”

“I thought you were the fanboy?”

The other chuckled and leaned in. “She had been researching you guys for a while before coming here. Boards, papers, internet forums — anything you can think of, she got her hands on it. She tried to hide it, but her rants about Red Hood were significatively longer than the others. She always said that the finesse and smarts of the execution of Red Hood’s exploits in Gotham were fascinating.” He sipped his drink. “She didn’t mention a duffle bag with severed heads, though.”

Jason didn’t even try to hide the blush. What was the point?

“It’s not public information. The others don’t know about this.” He considered it better. “Or I think they don’t. Bruce is not very keen on sharing with the class if he does.”

“But he has to if he wants us to work together.” Danny continued, eyes fixed on something behind Jason. “Tonight we are going through all the prep for the Justice League meeting… and meet up with the Spirit.”

Jason perked up. “Tonight?”

“Yep.” Danny sipped his drink, but there was nothing else but ice. He looked displeased.

“Can I join?”

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#dpxdc #hardcover ship #jazz x jason #jazz/jason #dp x dc #dc x dp #batpham #friendly neighborhood vigilante #neighbors au

[kamisama1kiss]

HII can i ask very kindly for a kageyama x iwa’s sister?? They met at kitagawa since theyre in the same year and reader decided to go to karasuno instead of sejioh like her brother. and she is the manager for karasunos team :33

pls and thank you if u do this request 🙏🙏

Awe, I love this 😭🙏 something about the manager trope. Like I would die for it if I could 😝🥛

{Will be using: She/Her/Girl}

~~~

Kageyama Tobio { Always there for each other }

The last year of Kitagawa for the both of them, having established a friendship earlier on in the years of middle school. Which only helped since she had joined the team to be manager, her brother had practically begged her to. "Karasuno? I thought you'd want to go to Sejioh." Questioning the setter which sat next to her in break.

"Well, I've heard a famous coach Ikkei ukai would return to the team. Still not 100% sure, though. " He nodded with hands in his pockets, "Going with Iwaizumi next year." Presuming she would be since the family bond,

"I'd have to see how it goes and such." A light shrug of her shoulder, looking at him as the eye contact was returned for a second before he hurriedly looked away, even a glimst of pink was dusted on his face.

"Well, whatever choice you make, I hope we can still be friends." Coughing in his line, looking around as if the wind was interesting to him.

"Of course." A lined thin smile on her lips, but before anymore could be said, the bell rang for class to start within a little. "Let's get going." A light punch on his shoulder before leaving to class.

It was a surprise when she had hidden what school she got into. It had gotten both Hajime and Tooru upset that she chose another school. Nevertheless, both of them let it go, one a bit longer than the other.

Nothing like that crossed her mind when she waddled down the school hallways, hearing voices in the gym being loud across the open doors. Stopping at the first door to hear the squeaks of shoes on the polished floor.

Someone tapped her shoulder, which made her spin around. "Are you interested?" A beautiful woman asked, having seen her looking into the gym for a while now.

"I uh.. yeah, is there perhaps a manager position open?" The mysterious woman smiled before pushing hair behind her ear, "There is actually. Was about to go looking for one since I'll be leaving next year."

"Come with me." It had been at least a little over a month since school started up again. As she elegantly walked into the gym with the girl following after.

Not long after entering the gym, all eyes we're on her. Sadly, she couldn't find Tobio, but she smiled at the rest of the team politely anyhow. "She will be a part of our manager team." The woman introduced me to them briefly.

"My name is {Name}. Nice to meet you all, I hope to be of help around." Waving with one hand as some smiled and waved back, other greeted back such a guy named Asahi who had been introduced alongside Daichi, Sugawara, and ect.

The gym doors we're sprung open as a familiar figure walked in with a short ginger, seemingly arguing with one another. "Tobio." She mentioned to herself in a whisper.

"Come on, you two, we have gotten a new manger for our team." Daichi, his voice easily booming in the mostly quiet room, but it wouldn't last long before everyone went back to practising.

"Hai!" They spoke in union, turning around to finally notice her. "I am Hinata Shoyo! It's a pleasure to meet you." The short ginger smiled widely at her and reached a hand out for a shake, she accepted and shook it. "The name is Iwaizumi {Name}."

As the interaction went on, then split. Kageyama stood and watched, feeling a sense of relief of having her her. " {Name}? I am glad to see you here." He said to her after Hinata had left off.

"Of course, I couldn't help myself. Plus, I see Iwaizumi at home all the time." Mumbling the explanation to him but pushing it away to smile. "I've missed you." She spoke even quieter than before. After all, they didn't have time to meet up in summer or anything.

He seemed surprised but kind of brushed it off. "No need to be so sentimental." Easily being able to pick up the fact his face had gotten pinker, scuffing before he lightly patted her shoulder and scurried off to practice.

She was left smiling softly, knowing it was his way of being 'kind'. When he went to the team, they all immediately accused them of dating, which he denied with red ears.

"Wow, the king actually got a queen. How surprising." Could be heard from the tall guy named Tsukishima Kei, with a green haired next to him laughing slightly at his words. "Could you shut up for once!?" Kageyama whisper shouted knowingly you could most likely hear it all.

The snow crunched under their feet as they walked. It was the weekend, which meant Kageyama and {Name} had the weekly hangouts yet again at the cosy coffee, which not many people knew of. Luckily.

Holding hands after some convincing from her side, he wasn't the biggest when it came to any sort of affectation no matter who it was. Letting it slide for maybe one or two individuals.

"The snow is only getting more intense." She muttered, looking up at him every now and then again. With only achieving a nod and "Hm, it is."

Raising a brow at his silence but shaking it off as they walked, it was a normal thing now lately. Almost as if he was shy to even mumbled out a proper word most of the time.

"Hey, uh, {Name}" he took a deep breath before stopping in his tracks. Looking at her as his hand squeezed hers lightly. "We've been friends for a while, right?"

His blueberry eyes looked around before meeting hers again, "Yeah, almost 4 years." His actions seemed more raw, genuine, and hesitant. "I've been.. Thinking." Forcing the words out. "We should go on a date." Speaking straightforward after moments of hesitation.

White snow flakes started to fall from the sky with a slow pace, embracing the duo. Her gaze fell to the snow, hand holding, before meeting his eyes. Finally, seeing his pink cheeks almost aluminating in the dark.

Grabbing both of his hands, pulling him closer, "I'd love to." She whispered into the darkness of the world.

~~~

I've loved Kageyama since day one of watching Haikyuu. Hope you all enjoyed reading!! ♡

#kageyama tobio #haikyuu #Karasuno #kageyama tobio x reader #kageyama tobio fanfiction #volleyball #haikyuu fanfiction #kageyama #tobio #haikyuu tobio #haikyuu kageyama #tobio kageyama #haikyuu kageyama tobio #haikyuu ask #haikyuu request

[deadgirlwalking91]

new update - 'Thank You for the Venom', chapter 9 🎸 🗡️

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine Summary

Both Lute and Adam learn that supressing feelings is just a band-aid fix.

Sorry for the delay - this chapter was so tricky. On the bright side, it's twice as long as normal! Very grateful this week for @branded-rose and all her wisdom, without which, I would still be tearing my hair out. Thanks for letting me borrow Harley, too <3

Adam and Lute’s Office, Exorcist Training Centre, Heaven

True to his word, Adam never mentioned that night at the bar to Lute. 

She was somewhat surprised; she’d been anticipating that he would bring it up first thing the next morning when he waltzed into their office, two coffees in hand, singing obnoxiously at the top of his lungs. Sera had even followed him into their shared space, chastising him for not sticking to a respectable volume in the workplace. 

He’d greeted Lute somewhat civilly - still by the crude nickname he refused to drop - and plonked her coffee on her desk without much fanfare.

She’d found his chirpiness incredibly frustrating, considering she hadn’t slept a wink the night before, replaying the night’s events in her mind. Over. And over. 

On the couch, still in a daze when she got home. 

In the shower, under the ice-cold stream of water in an attempt to shock herself out of her stupor. 

Under the covers in bed, where her imagination ran wild and her hands wandered, trying to finish what Adam had started with her up against the fence.  

It was no wonder she was exhausted when she got to work that next morning. 

The days and weeks that followed were much the same. Mundane, even. She and Adam would plan in the office first thing in the morning, then run training sessions with the Exorcists for the rest of the day. Their relationship, for the first time since Lute had been promoted to lieutenant, seemed to lean more professional than it ever had before. 

While this proved to make Lute’s work life easier, it also bored her to no end. She never thought she’d admit it, but she longed for the days when they were at each other’s throats instead of newfound clipped politeness. There were no threats of violence or colourful insults traded over the tops of their desks anymore. Just exchanges of paperwork or suggestions for training drills to run.

She was also incredibly annoyed because even though she had explicitly asked Adam not to mention their little rendezvous in the bar’s gardens, she was sure that he would have had something to say about it. A snide remark here, or crude joke there. But he had stuck to his word, and pretended like it had never happened.

The only banter they now shared was over the morning coffee he continued to insist on buying her daily, and even that seemed to be turning stale and predictable.

Until one day, he figured out her coffee order.

It was a Friday morning, approximately two months after the bar incident, and as usual, Lute was early for work. Unusually, so was Adam, who, when she arrived to the office, was reclining in his seat, ankles crossed atop his desk.

“Why are you here so early?” she asked, eyeing him suspiciously as she slid into her seat. “You’re normally late.”

“Good morning to you too,” he ignored her question, scrolling lazily through his phone. “I got a proposition for ya.”

Lute stiffened, the hair on the back of her neck standing up. The last time he’d propositioned her, she’d ended up with his hand up her dress and tongue down her throat. At least this time, if the situation… derailed again, their office door had a lock on it…

She closed her eyes and gripped the edge of her desk, scolding herself for letting her mind wander so easily. What was wrong with her?! He hadn’t even asked her anything yet and already, she was jumping to conclusions. Knowing Adam, he’d just want to copy her paperwork, or something equally as insignificant.

“What is it?” she asked through gritted teeth, eyes still shut.

“I’ll ask you once you open your eyes and stop acting like a fucking weirdo.”

“I preferred it when you wanted me to keep my eyes shut,” she found herself muttering before realising she’d spoken aloud, clapping a hand to her mouth.

Idiot!

“Huh?”

“Nothing!” she squeaked through her fingers, shaking her head furiously. “Uh - what is it that you were wanting to propose, Sir?”

She cleared her throat, praying that he didn’t hear her little slip up, and grabbed the coffee Adam had left on her desk for her.

“You sure you’re all good?” Adam asked, his brows furrowing in concern. He rose from his seat and circled around to Lute’s desk, perching on the edge. “You look kinda flustered.”

“I’m not flustered,” she insisted, scowling as she felt the heat rise in her cheeks. “I’m just…” she trailed off, unsure of how to finish her sentence.

She was flustered, dammit.

Raising the cup to her lips, she averted her eyes as she took a long sip, and inadvertently sighed with satisfaction.

The hot, bitter taste of black coffee filled her mouth, practically burning her tongue - which was just how she liked it. She hummed contentedly, taking another sip, momentarily forgetting Adam’s large frame was shadowing her as he sat on her desk. 

“I take it you’re enjoying the coffee?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. Peering up at him through her lashes, she nodded, blushing again slightly under his gaze.

“You got it right,” she said, offering him a rare smile. “It only took you what, three months?” She nudged his leg playfully with her foot, then stopped, realising she was letting herself get far too carried away, and hurriedly gulped her coffee again in an attempt to distract herself from playing footsies with her boss.

He scoffed, crossing his arms. “Yeah, and the answer was right under my fucking nose the whole time. Shoulda known you’d be the type to drink black coffee. Only psychopaths drink that shit.” 

He nudged her back, his foot lingering briefly against her calf before pulling away. Lute’s stomach lurched as their legs brushed together, the contact bringing back memories of what it felt like to have his body against hers. It was the first time they’d touched since that night at the bar, and in the interim she’d almost managed to convince herself that the way she felt about their little rendezvous was a fluke, a one-off.

A mistake.

Apparently, she was very, very delusional, and those feelings had still been lingering under the surface, all along.

“So,” she started, clearing her throat, desperately needing to shift her focus to more important matters at hand. Like her job. “What was your, um, proposition, Sir?”

“Oh yeah!” Adam reached behind his body, retrieving his own coffee cup from his desk and drinking from it. “Whadd’ya say we get the girls going with weapons training on Monday?”

Lute frowned. “But they’re not due to start for another two weeks. What’s the -”

“Yeah, about that,” Adam paused, sipping his coffee before setting it down on Lute’s paperwork. She scowled, and pointedly moved the cup off to the side, well away from her work. “I have this bullshit meeting with Sera next week, and I kiiiiinda wanna show that we’re doing better than expected.”

“Why?”

“Oh, ya know,” Adam waved his hand nonchalantly, shrugging. “I wanna tell her how fucking badass we are. Plus, Sera thinks I’m a huge fuck-up, so I just thought…”

He trailed off as he frowned, uncharacteristically lost for words. Or perhaps realising he’d revealed too much.

Lute wasn’t quite sure how to interpret his comment, his vulnerability making her feel somewhat…unsettled. On one hand, she had this nagging feeling that there was possibly more to this upcoming meeting with Sera than he was letting on. On the other hand, given the size of his ego, it was no shock to her that he wanted to prove that he was excelling at his job, and she could just be overanalysing the situation. 

“I don’t think you’re a huge fuck-up,” she said slowly, choosing her words carefully, so as not to set him off. “I think, um… well, you’re a…good boss.” She kept her eyes down as she shifted uncomfortably in her seat, not wanting to make eye contact. Complimenting others wasn’t something that came naturally to her. Especially not when it came to Adam.

He snorted, sliding off her desk. “No shit. I’m the best you’ll ever have, and don’t you fucking forget it. Why are you acting weird?”

“I’m not acting weird,” she said defensively, crossing her arms. “I was just trying to be nice.”

“Let’s get one thing straight,” he said, turning to stare her dead in the eye, “you’re not a nice kind of girl, Lute.”

She bristled, unsure of the point he was trying to make. It wasn’t like he was being untruthful. She wasn’t the type to be overly kind or caring for others. That wasn’t exactly uncommon knowledge.

Still, having it pointed out to her stung slightly.

Refusing to break eye contact, she rested her forearms on her desk and leaned forward, looking up at him. “No. I’m not a nice girl, Sir,” she said quietly, her tone surprisingly measured. “If that’s what you’re after, I’d suggest -”

“I don’t know what is up with you today,” he interrupted, rolling his eyes as he strode towards the door, “but snap the fuck out of it, Lute, I’m getting sick of your shit today. You coming to give the others the good news, or not?”

Lute sighed and rose from her seat, making to follow him. 

“Yes, Sir. Let’s go.”

***

Training Hall, Exorcist Training Centre, Heaven

Adam, for the life of him, could not figure out what was up Lute’s ass that morning.

Or, most mornings since that night.

Which was really fucking annoying, considering she had been the one who insisted they forget about their little moment. Pretend it never happened, or whatever the hell it was that she’d said.

Truthfully, he was actually really good at pretending encounters with women had never happened. Mostly it was because they mistook a one-night stand for something more and would get real fucking clingy and annoying about it, and eventually he’d have to ghost them so they’d take a hint.

What he hadn’t been expecting was for it to sting when the tables turned, and suddenly he was on the receiving end of being cast aside. The kicker? He’d gone out on a fucking limb and revealed a part of himself to her that he’d never shown anybody he’d been with before.

And she didn’t even care. She just… dismissed him, like he was some kind of toy that a child grew tired of and discarded. If his success didn’t depend on her compliance, he would have fucked her off like the rest of them. Instead, he kept things pleasant and civil at work, if only to keep her on-side until the next Extermination Day. After that, he could dispose of her as needed, never to speak to her again.

After all, it was what she wanted.

But was it what he wanted?

He snuck a glance at her as they stood before the rest of the Exorcist army, waiting for their fellow soldiers to fall into line before they delivered the good news about their updated training schedule. The group was chatty today, excitedly talking amongst themselves as they arranged themselves into neat rows, awaiting further instruction.

She was looking steelily ahead, expression blank. That was nothing new when she stood in front of her peers - she’d always made a point of keeping her distance from most of the girls, save for Vaggie. Her hands were fisted, meeting at the small of her back, knuckles pressed together.

Despite her rigidity, and his irritation, he found himself wanting to touch her, to see if she’d soften for him once more. Their brief exchange as he sat on her desk earlier that morning had been a pleasant reminder that she wasn’t all work and no play. Too bad there were hundreds of women before them, waiting patiently for further directions from him, and he had to keep his hands to himself.

Though, since when did something insignificant like an audience ever stop him from doing what he wanted?

Leaning towards Lute, he placed a hand over where her knuckles pressed together, letting his fingers close gently over her fists. She inhaled sharply through her nose, holding her breath as her golden eyes flickered briefly in his direction.

“Really?” she murmured out of the corner of her mouth, eyes darting back to the Exorcists, “Here? Now?”

“You good for me to start?” he asked, ignoring her questions, instead squeezing her hands slightly. They twitched in response, her fists softening underneath his grasp.

“Yes,” she answered quietly, her voice slightly breathy as he felt her unfurl one of her fingers to lightly graze his palm, her touch sending a warm feeling through his body.

That was all the confirmation he needed. Just like he hadn’t forgotten what happened between them, neither had she. And judging by her response, the way that she hadn’t pushed him away or given him attitude but instead let him hold her hand, it seemed she very much fondly remembered that night, too.

He tightened his grip again, giving her hands one last squeeze before reluctantly letting go and stepping forward to address his awaiting army.

“Alright, listen up girls,” Adam started, pacing the floor in front of the rest of the exorcists. “You’ve made great progress over the past few months. I’m impressed. You impressed, Lute?”

Stiff as a board once again, she nodded twice, remaining silent.

“Too fucking right, you are. Anyways ladies, your lieutenant and I have decided that as of next week, we’re moving on to weapons training earlier than expected. You bitches have earned it.”

He grinned as the Exorcists whooped and cheered, fist-bumping and high-fiving one another as they celebrated their progression.

“Alright, alright, settle the fuck down. Today, we’re changing it up. Instead of your usual drills, we’re going to run a little competition.”

“Competition, Sir?” Lute asked, stepping forward so she stood next to him. She frowned, staring up at him. “I don’t recall discussing this.”

“That’s because we didn’t.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, glaring, and he flashed her a grin in response. 

“Sir. We were going to do a recap on what we’ve achieved so far.”

“What the fuck for? Why not get them to demonstrate what we’ve taught them, instead? Ladies,” Adam turned to readdress the crowd. “You’re going to split off into pairs and, using the skills your lieutenant and I have drilled into you this off-season, will spar one another. The way we determine a winner is easy as fuck; the first to draw the opponent’s blood will move on to the next round; the loser is out of the competition.”

“Sir. Who is going to clean up the blood?” Lute demanded, crossing her arms. “I hardly think -”

“Chill, Lute. The overall winner gets to pick three people of her choosing to clean up after.”

“If I win, I’m going to pick you, Sir!” one of the Exorcists called, causing an eruption of laughter from her sisters. Adam snorted. 

“Harley, it’s a goddamn miracle that Sinners can’t hurt us, because you’d be fucked come Extermination Day. There’s no chance you’re winning this one, babe. Any other questions while we’re at it?”

Layla threw her hand up in the air with so much enthusiasm she almost knocked Vaggie over. 

“What, Sugartits?”

Layla tossed her hair over her shoulder. “I think you and Lute should give us a demonstration, Sir.”

Adam glanced down at Lute. If looks could kill, Layla would be lying dead on the floor because the look in Lute’s eyes was beyond murderous. 

“That won’t be happening, Layla,” Lute snarled. Out of the corner of his eye, Adam could see she’d once again balled her hands into fists behind her back. “Your Commander has better things to do than -”

“Nah, fuck it Lutey, let’s do it. Ladies, go sit and stretch or whatever while we get ready.” He watched as the Exorcists began chatting amongst themselves as they meandered towards the back of the hall, banding together in groups of two or three before dropping to the floor, contorting their bodies into various stretches and holds.

“Sir -” Lute began to protest, but Adam held up a hand, silencing her.

“It’ll be fun,” he shrugged, “and besides, in the years we’ve worked together, I don’t think that we’ve ever sparred before.”

“That doesn’t mean now is the time to start,” she said, glaring up at him, “I hardly think that this is professional.”

Adam cocked an eyebrow at her. “Oh, so now you want to start acting professionally? Don’t you think it’s a bit fucking late for that?” He leaned closer, letting his hand close around both of hers again, unable to stop himself from touching her. He smirked, keeping his grip firm as she tried to jerk her hands free.

“I think you’ve forgotten our agreement,” she snapped, glowering up at him. “In case you don’t remember -”

“Oh, I remember the agreement, Lieutenant,” he whispered, lips brushing against her hair. “Unlike you, I’m just choosing not to forget what happened before that. Seems like you could use a recap, though.”

He let go, his hand creeping further up her back until his fingers slipped beneath the band of her crop top. Her body stiffened as she tensed her muscles - and yet, she still leaned backwards, ever so slightly, against his hand.

For somebody who wanted to forget, she sure had a fucking great memory.

She whipped her head around to face him so suddenly he was shocked she didn’t have whiplash, her lips only inches from his as they twisted into a snarl. 

“You don’t get to do this to me,” she hissed, eyes boring into his so ferociously she could have burned holes through his mask. “Fuck you.”

“Fuck you, I do what I want. And you wish. Don’t you fucking try and deny it, either.”

“What does it matter? It’ll never happen.”

His fingers curled into her back, digging against her bare skin.

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” he muttered, his voice low and dangerous, “that pretty little mouth of yours might be telling me ‘no’, but your body was screaming ‘yes’ when I had you up against that fence.”

He could feel the heat radiating off her face as she gaped wordlessly at him, unable to respond.

“That’s what I thought,” he whispered, flatting his palm against her as he slid out from underneath her crop. He felt her shiver slightly as his hand trailed down her spine to rest at the small of her back, letting it linger there for a moment longer than necessary before reluctantly letting it drop.

The chokehold she had on him was beyond anything he’d ever experienced before, and it was getting harder and harder to control himself now that they’d started their back-and-forth again. 

In a weird way, he’d missed trading blows with her. Missed how she kept him sharp and alert with that smart mouth of hers.

Lute turned her head away as she crossed her arms, her cheeks still flushed with warmth. “I hate you, Sir.”

“I don’t think that’s the case, babe,” he smirked, leaning closer and grabbing her chin, forcing her to look at him again. “I think you want me.”

Her golden eyes widened in shock as she parted her lips slightly in an almost-silent gasp, save for the small breath she sucked in. God, she was so tempting, like some kind of forbidden fruit he knew he shouldn’t taste, but desperately needed to. 

How ironic.

“Hey - uh, Commander? Lute?” a tentative voice interrupted. “Do… you need a minute, or are you good to go?”

Adam scowled and let go of Lute, turning away from her. Fucking Vaggie interrupting them again. He was about to start berating her for being an insubordinate bitch, but a shaky voice stopped him.

“Thanks… Vaggie. We - we’re ready to start now.” 

Lute pushed her hair out of her face and walked away from him, cracking her knuckles and flexing her wrists as she moved.  She gave him a slight nod once she was in position, all traces of unease erased from her features as she fixed her steely gaze on him.

He couldn’t wait to rattle her again.

***

Lute kept her eyes trained firmly on Adam as she assessed his stance.

The fucker had the audacity to stand across from her, arms crossed over his chest as he smirked at her. Taunted her as he raised a hand and beckoned for her to approach with one finger.

He was such an asshole.

Ignoring him, she tried to focus instead on his weak points. He was slow, easily distracted and lazy. That could work in her favour if she kept her distance, eventually boring him with the lack of action and then picking her moment to strike.

Unfortunately for her, she could easily identify three key advantages he had over her: brute strength, the fact that he had not one inch of exposed skin for her to draw blood from, and if he managed to seduce her like he had earlier, it was game-fucking-over.

Maybe if she thought with her head, and not with other parts of her body, that third weakness of hers wouldn’t be such an issue. She snuck a glance at the Exorcists, who, given their snickering and whispering behind their hands, were evidently growing bored of the stand-off. Great. Now her peers thought she was useless.

She was going to have to make the first move, because he sure as hell wasn’t - which was unusual, given that in every other encounter they’d had, any escalation that had taken place stemmed from his initiation. But how would she do it?

Cautiously, Lute slowly moved towards Adam, not daring for a second to look away from him as she drew closer. Her heart raced as she approached, still unsure of what exactly she was going to do once she reached him.

“Didn’t take you long,” he drawled, grinning down at her, “but given our recent history, I didn’t think you would, babe. You can’t resist me.”

Lute’s eyes widened as a wave of inspiration hit her.

Her idea was… risky. It could very well backfire on her. And if it did, it was going to leave her sisters with some very, very interesting questions she was sure they would want answers to - answers she couldn’t give.

But if she pulled it off…

She turned to the crowd, searching for Vaggie’s face, hoping it would give her a surge of confidence. 

Instead, she found Layla, sitting flat on the floor in a perfect middle split, hand propping her chin up, a smug grin plastered across her face. Lute narrowed her eyes. She wanted nothing more than to slap the smirk off that little bitch’s face. Dumb slut. Who the fuck did she think she was, suggesting that Lute and Adam spar? Did she know something?

Though, how could she? Lute hadn’t breathed a word of any of their encounters to anybody, not even Vaggie. Unless…

Her thoughts were interrupted as Adam grabbed hold of her wrist and pulled her towards him, spinning so that his back faced the crowd, hiding her completely from their view.

“Too slow, babe,” he tutted, his mark flashing with excitement, “less time thinking, more time doing, Lieutenant.” With a flick of his hand, he sent Lute flying across the room, and she had to roll into the movement to avoid injury.

Crouching as she steadied herself, she furrowed her brows as she desperately tried to figure out the quickest way to execute her plan. Taking it slow was out of the question - she’d just have to go for it, all guns blazing.

She rose and approached Adam again, this time throwing caution to the wind and sprinting towards him, gaining speed so that when she threw herself at him, the momentum propelled her to land her shot as she gripped his neck and wrapped her legs firmly around his waist.

His hands - by instinct, perhaps, or otherwise - flew up to hold the outside of her hips and Lute heard the crowd gasp. She couldn’t tell if they were scandalised or impressed and in the heat of the moment, she really couldn’t give a fuck which one it was.

Leaning into the side of his head, she whispered, “Given you’re refusing to forget how much you enjoyed this last time, I thought I’d give you a little reminder before I kick your ass.”

She really hoped he couldn’t feel the heat emanating from her face, or that anybody else could tell she was so incredibly flushed she felt like she was burning brighter and hotter than the sun. That would be embarrassing.

Adam gripped her tighter, shifting so that his face was so close to hers she could see her breath fogging up the screen of his mask when she breathed.

“When will you ever fucking learn that running your mouth like that always gets you into trouble?” 

“I believe it wasn’t my mouth that escalated things between us last time, Sir.” Lute let one of her hands cup the side of his face, and she was almost caught off-guard when she felt him lean into her touch. “But then again, why let the truth get in the way of a good story?”

For a moment - it could have been seconds, or possibly even minutes, she couldn’t tell - they just stared at each other wordlessly, the only sound being made was that of their laboured breathing. Not that either of them had particularly over-exerted themselves.

There was an emotion lingering in their shared gaze that terrified her. It wasn’t hatred, or irritation, or even dislike. Frustratingly, she couldn’t place what exactly it was, or why it made her palms sweat, her heart race and liquid heat pool in her stomach all at the same time.

What Lute did know was that in this moment, she desperately wanted to rip that mask off his face so she could feel the heat of his skin against her hand again.

Her breath hitched in her throat as she forgot momentarily that she was in front of a crowd of hundreds - who had fallen dead silent - and that she was supposed to be winning a sparring contest against Adam. Most importantly, attempting to distract him by seduction was meant to be a tactical move only.

Which is why she was so easily flung into the air again, though this time she was too high up to roll safely, so instead, she focused on trying to land on her feet to avoid having to get up off the floor again. How humiliating that would be in front of the other Exorcists.

What was more embarrassing though, was the fact that she was so flustered she forgot to bend her knees to soften the impact, and her left foot made contact with the ground awkwardly, rolling inwards as she landed.

A white-hot pain seared through her ankle and she collapsed, screaming in agony as her body hit the floor.

She lay flat on her back for several seconds, trying to catch her breath, before she felt somebody squeeze her hand gently.

“Lute? You okay?” Vaggie asked, her large eyes full of concern. “Do we need to take you to see somebody, or -”

“I’m good,” Lute rasped, sitting up slowly, her ankle now throbbing. She peered down at it and winced at the swelling that had already started. It was already considerably larger than her other ankle, and based on other injuries she’d had previously, she knew that it was only going to get significantly worse over a matter of days.

“It doesn’t look good,” Vaggie said cautiously, “how about I get you up and I’ll take a closer look?”

Lute nodded, and drew her other leg up so her foot was flat on her floor, ready to use it to push herself upwards. Vaggie grabbed her upper arm, and Lute braced herself, ready to be lifted when she felt another pair of hands hold her other arm, and without looking, she knew who it was by the roughness of his grip.

“Not you,” she groaned, embarrassed, as Vaggie and Adam hoisted her up into a standing position. “Have you come over just to rub it in? To gloat about how you’ve won?”

“Normally, abso-fucking-lutely, but you’re actually kinda hurt here, babe,” Adam said, his tone oddly grim. “I hate to be the one to break it to you, but you’re not gonna be able to walk on that for at least a week. And besides, I didn’t win, you got injured but no blood was drawn. There’s no winner.”

“I’m not injured, I’m fine!” Lute insisted angrily, yanking her arm out of Adam’s grasp. “I’ve been through worse, you’ve seen the state of my body.” She immediately groaned, her face flushing with embarrassment at her slip up. “Don’t say-”

“Not touching that with a ten foot pole, unless it’s my ten-foot pole - though, you almost got to- ow!” 

Lute swiftly gut-punched him before he could let anything else slip. She cast a quick, worried glance at Vaggie, who was kneeling on the floor, gently inspecting her injury.

If she’d heard Adam, she thankfully hadn’t taken any notice.

“It’s pretty swollen, Lute,” said Vaggie tentatively, looking up. “Can you put pressure on it?”

Lute gingerly placed her foot on the ground, hissing at the sharp, shooting pain that radiated from deep within her ankle as she stumbled. Both Adam and Vaggie moved to grab her; Vaggie leaping up from her kneeling position so Lute could use her shoulder as a crutch, while Adam caught her by the upper arm, gripping her firmly.

Lute seethed at all the unnecessary attention this silly inconvenience was attracting. The last thing she wanted in front of Adam was to appear weak. Especially considering this was all his fault. His and Layla’s.  

“That’s a hard no,” Adam said, waiting until Lute steadied herself before relaxing his hold on her. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re kinda fucked here, babe.”

“In case you’ve forgotten,” Lute snarled, clenching her fists as another wave of pain washed over her, “I’m an angel and I have wings. I’ll be fine.”

“You won’t be able to fly around your apartment though, it’s tiny,” Vaggie pointed out. “And by the looks of the swelling and bruising, you’ll be out of action for at least a week. Plus, having your ankle just dangling in the air won’t be good for it. Come stay with me. I can at least help you get around.”

Adam snorted. “You’re all of, like, four foot nothing, Vag. What help are you gonna be?”

Vaggie narrowed her eyes at him, drawing her shoulders back defensively. “And you think you could do a better job?”

“Yeah, I think I could, actually,” he replied, his tone bored. “My place is bigger than yours and besides, Lute would love to spend a week in my bed, wouldn’t you, Lutey?”

Lute threw him a withering look, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks at his suggestion. How dare he think now was an appropriate time to make such a joke? After everything that had happened leading up to this moment?

And to do it in front of Vaggie, no less. The next time she was alone with him, she was going to let him have it for making such a risky comment.

“You are such a creep,” Vaggie scowled. “You might have the rest of the army dickmatised, but if there’s one Exorcist you’ll never have a shot with, it’s Lute.”

Lute squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block their bickering out. This discussion couldn’t be happening right now, not while she was in excruciating pain. She desperately needed to make eye contact with Adam to silently beg him, for once, to shut the fuck up and not bite back. She opened her eyes and shot him a pleading look, mouthing ‘stop’ as subtly as she could. 

He opened his mouth to respond, but shut it again. Thankfully, he kept it closed and didn’t say anything further.

If he did, Vaggie would know something had happened between them. And then she’d never hear the end of it. Never stop feeling the judgement.

“I can take care of myself,” Lute blurted out desperately, running a hand through her hair. “Look - let me try walking again.” Before either Vaggie or Adam could argue, she inhaled sharply, bracing herself for the pain as she moved forward…

…and promptly hit the deck as her leg gave out from underneath her, screaming as a fresh wave of pain seared through her foot like a hot knife had sliced it open. She clutched at her ankle, wincing. It had to be at least twice the size of her other one.

“You dumb bitch,” Adam swore, and Lute felt his hands grab hold of her and scoop her into his arms. She resisted the urge to grab onto his robes, or fling her arms around his neck, instead opting to fold them across her middle, hands gripping her biceps. “You just don’t know when to fucking quit, do you? No one thinks you’re a badass for ignoring an injury like this, they just think you’re an idiot.”

She said nothing; instead, she chose to glare up at him, silently hoping he choked on a rib bone the next time he ordered them at his favourite restaurant.

“Stop pouting like a fucking baby, Lute.”

Lute hissed and gripped her arms tighter. This injury wasn’t fair. The way she was being coddled was stupid. Why couldn’t she just use crutches like any other angel with an injury?

Then she realised. Other angels didn’t get injured like the Exorcists did. Crutches weren’t a thing in Heaven; she’d only known about them because she’d seen crippled Sinners using them in Hell to get around. Usually before she’d put them out of their misery.

Here though… Medical aid like crutches didn’t need to be a thing. It was Heaven. 

“Where are you taking her?” Vaggie demanded, crossing her arms. “She can’t go home on her own.”

“Calm down, she’s not going to go home alone” Adam rolled his eyes, looking down at Lute. 

Surely - he couldn’t -

“Because she’s going to come home with me.”

Come home with me.

He’d just uttered the same words that had haunted her for the past two months. The same words that she replayed in her mind as she tried to dissect how their relationship had shifted so significantly. Tried to figure out how Adam went from just being a mildly annoying boss to a mildly annoying boss that she wanted to absolutely devour her.

It was only a matter of time before she was no longer able to fight it. Given she was about to spend an indefinite amount of time living under the same roof, that time was drawing nearer and nearer.

The frustrating part was that she didn’t want to resist her desires anymore. But she had to.

He was her boss, and she reported to him. That was all their relationship should be.

But after this… 

Lute shivered involuntarily. She didn’t want to think about it. The thought of their dynamic changing again terrified her. Especially if something happened that neither of them could come back from.

Vaggie pinched the bridge of her nose and exhaled deeply. “Can we just think about this logically for a second? Where the fuck is she going to sleep?”

“Pay attention Vag, I already told you, she’s going to sleep in my bed. And before you get your fucking panties in a twist and need one of the girls to help you untangle them, I’ll sleep on the couch.” 

Vaggie ignored him, instead turning her attention to Lute. “Are you okay with this?” She demanded. “Lute, just tell me if you don’t want to go with him, and I’ll take care of you.”

“I’m okay. I can handle it,” Lute gave Vaggie a smile that she hoped looked convincing, but deep down she knew it was a woeful attempt. “My apartment key is in my bag - could you - ”

“Of course. Just… text me if there’s anything in particular you need. And you,” Vaggie rounded on Adam, pointing at him, her teeth bared. “You do a single thing to hurt her, or make her recovery worse and I will personally rip off your arm, shove it up your ass then stick my arm so far down your throat I can shake your fucking hand. Got it?”

Adam winced. “Fucking hell, no wonder you two get along. You’re both fucked in the head.”

Lute felt his grip on her tighten as he strode away from Vaggie and out the door of the training hall, and she prayed for a miracle to help her survive living under the same roof as Adam for the unforeseeable future

And by survive, she really meant ‘not sleeping with him’.

***

Next time: how do your favourite angels fare living under the same roof?

Love me a little bit of close proximity!

#hazbin hotel #adam x lute #guardrock #guitarspear #guitarspear fic #hazbin hotel lute #hazbin adam #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel fanfic #hazbin lute

[beanghostprincess]

Do you think Ace would put photos of him holding Luffy like a lasso on his tinder profile

Yes. And I also think Ace would put photos of him doing the stupidest things on his Tinder profile. And also lots of nudes and gym bro style types of pictures. He's a fucking loser. I don't even like men and I don't even use Tinder but if I ever saw him there I would instantly think he's a fucking idiot. Which he is. Wouldn't date him even if I liked men (basing this on his Tinder profile only). He's obsessed with making thirst traps and looking hot and somehow it works for him because he has the biggest transmasc and older brother rizz ever. That doesn't make him any less of an idiot though.

#i think sabo would have the best tinder profile but he doesn't even need it anyway #but also i think sabo is too picky to be on tinder #like his first questions would be about politics #sabo on his first date: aw you look gorgeous. also. what are your views on slavery and do you think the monarchy should be abolished #but then again why would he need a tinder profile he already has a girlfriend thank you #ace on the other hand is just there to fuck people so #and he's extremely hot so he'd have the best time of his life there #that doesn't make him any less of a loser though #one piece #portgas d. ace #asl brothers

[dimiclaudeblaigan]

I'm... kind of confused about this? Like Ignatz is basically saying the only way for people to move forward is by continuing to fight and destroy? That's a pretty awful message in general, but coming from Ignatz it just feels weird. It sounds like he's just accepted war and that it's just... something that happens so we should shrug it off and move on?

I know this game tends to have very strong pro-war/pro-invasion messages which is already really gross to me, but it went from being annoying and icky to just making me feel disgusted. Also, Ignatz of all people shouldn't just shrug his shoulders and be like well that's just the way of things, I guess! There's an active war going on so it makes sense that towns could be rebuilt and destroyed again. It doesn't mean just give up on it.

Also really doesn't feel like an Ignatz thing to say.

#DCB Three Hopes Run #I'll be honest I have very low opinions of people when I see them say shit like #Edelgard is in the right and it she was justified to invade territories #if there was provocation/she was attacked by another territory first I'd get it #but I can't sympathize with the concept in general of attacking another nation that has nothing to do with you #it feels absolutely disgusting and seeing people actually DEFEND that is extremely concerning about their real life values #especially when she's very open about how the purpose of it is conquest and not actually the Church #and no nobody can use the Faerghus sheltering refugees as an excuse bc she attacks them in both games #and they didn't shelter the Church at all outside CF. in Hopes it's just a reason the writers needed to be able to #make it so the game had a similar story to Houses and to give a reason so the war still happened #Faerghus was quite literally minding its own business and growing at an astoundingly fast pace #and suddenly they have to decide whose side to take in a war? they didn't want to go to war but they were forced #and Ignatz here basically shrugging his shoulders figuring it's just a way of life to be at war is... not a good message #people who initiate war do it for their own political and territorial gain and that's true of this story too #it's not a question of whether or not it was Edelgard's goal bc she just outright SAYS it is #like... she's not hiding it? she's not trying to dodge the fact? and like again you can like her character as a fictional character #but it would be like if I said I love Ashnard and bc of that I agreed with his goals ideals and values and that #he was justified in attacking Crimea and torturing laguz. he's a really cool character and I love what he brings to the story #but there's a fine line between finding a fictional character interesting/fascinating #and outright defending their actions and basically saying conquest is okay as long as you tell people it's for another reason #i.e. Edelgard gave the propaganda about ''for the people'' but that wasn't her goal. if it WAS #she'd be contacting Dimitri in those two years like hey I see you guys are making strides in your politics mind giving us some advice #if her goal was for the people she would've spent those two years for the people and fixing shit not preparing for war #it just... really leaves a sick feeling for me that people legitimately believe her violence is justified and that here Ignatz is basically #saying that war is just a thing we all should just accept. like... how is war the only way for humans to move forward??? #the one good thing Twitter does is that it tries to at least give sympathies to attacked nations #if this game was real you'd be seeing ''Faerghus attacked'' ''Faerghus invaded'' ''pray for Faerghus'' all over Twitter lmao #like if this was never a fictional story and if it was just real life there would have been only support on social media

[cuntstable]

i need to think about the potential of kakyoin and pucci teenage friendship at the evil vampire mansion more!!!

#i think ive joked about it here before a little bit like Oh dio brainwashed kakyoin so pucci would have a friend his age lol but ACTUALLY….. #like actually……think about it. like theyre both these isolated lonely teen with a lot of baggage and problems and theyre in this weird #fucked up enviroment and theyre the only people around each others age. and like personality wise too like theyre both polite and in their #heads a lot but they both have their weirdo tendencies. theyd click. pucci asks kakyoin if he wants to come to bible study with him. kakyoin #teaches pucci how to play video games. think about it. theres funny potential here. #but also like kakyoin doesnt stay at the mansion that long and when the dio fleshbuds removed his memories of it become blurry. he forgets #this weird kid he met. and pucci hears that kakyoin was the first to get sent to challenge the joestars and for a moment questions Why Him? #dio has so many loyal servants so why did he sent the one pucci had befriended to the wolves? and selfishly he thinks it would have been #better if it had been someone else #but then he just assumes that they killed kak (he never discovers the truth) and says a quick prayer for him but with the many deaths that #follow he slowly forgets about this one friend he had #just another name to briefly recall while holding a rosary #jojo

[neoyuno]

What if I wrote more of idol!wonwoo x producer!reader from the “no biting” universe? :o read tags for my idea ♥︎

#where svt (mostly jihoon) has been wanting to work with her and she has been wanting to work with them too (cause theyre great and also #cause she has a crush on wonwoo. not knowing wonwoo also developed a crush on the producer jihoon wont stop talking about. cause he gave #your music a listen and he was like ‘damn… this some good shit’ and understood why the other guys love your work but also became interested #in you bc youre pretty and talented and exude powerful energy duh! so he got immersed into watching your content. from mvs to interviews to #your little producing workshops where he became fond of the way your eyes glistened while talking aboit music. and then one day they have a #comeback and the company tells them that they got in contact with a huge foreign producer that been wanting to work with them so they are #like??? and they are told that the producer would arrive in a couple of hours while the recording interns get the studio ready to fir her #workflow. wonwoo notices the set up is similar to one you had shown in one of your ‘a day in the stufio’ vlogs but he brushed it off bc you #did mention it’s sort of the standard at your record label. so after a couple of hours they sll sit at the recording studio waiting for the #new dude they will work with. EXCEPT!!! its not a dude… #as soon as the door opens they are greeted with the woman they had only listened through their earphones and seen through the tv #they are all so starstruck and excited and start greeting you and hollering and asking questions… but wonwoo just sits back because #WHAT THE FUCK??? HOW ARE YOU THIS GORGEOUS IN PERSON??? he was in shock at how angelical and ethereal you actually were #he doesn’t snap out of it until he hears the most beautiful voice call out his name. you greet him shyly and he doesn’t miss how your hand #trembled when you shook his matching one… the obvious blush on your face masked behind the weather being hot/cold. but you dont show the #fact that you both felt a spark as your hands joined… then you all get to talking about how the album is gonna go and how you #want to give them absolute creative liberty as you are not there to lead but to work together with them. conversations flow until jeonghan #asks where youll be staying for the whole 3 months… to which you reply that you have been looking for a hotel/airbnb but they are all #unavailable bc of the season. so mingyu being the sweetheart and oblivious baby he is…. offers you the spare room in his and wonwoos house #to which the boys all agree and you decline (politely and shyly) at first bc living with wonwoo????? uhhh??? #that would mean he would see you with your bed hair and you wete not allowing that!!! but then once wonwoo said it was okay bc they would #love the company (even tho his ass was sweating bc the prettiest girl in the world would be there everyday!!) #you agreed and so that’s how your love story starts (or well… your friendship that then will bloom into the relationship in ‘no biting’ #TADA! SHOULD I??? IDK??? SHOULD I?? #wonwoo smut #wonwoo fluff #can yall tell what my career is? LMAO #manifestation bish ♥︎

[master-of-the-opera-house]

11 12 20

Thank you darling!!

Archduke Franz Ferdinand:

11. What is your favourite portrayal of them in fiction (e.g. movies, novels etc.)?

My own play

No but really, I don't think I have a favourite fictional portrayal of him bc most media that deal with him are way more focused on, well you know, the assassination and resulting war and all that than on him as an actual person. The only one that comes to mind is that Christopher Plummer movie and they bimboified him which. Literally 0/10 like have u all seen this man he's supposed to look like Taxidermy Fox.

that being said this novel is funny as hell idk if it's my favourite per se because it's SO MEAN to him but the way they were just making up Depressed Bitch thoughts for him..... Iconic. So really, in this media desert I've been stuck with....

12. Let us know the three best books about your favourite historical figure!

a. The Assassination of the Archduke by Greg King and Sue Woolmans was genuinely a great read!! Sensitively written, with a very narrative flow, it was more than a little biased towards him but you know what, it makes up for every other piece of literature out there that is extremely biased //against// him, so I say screw it. Just keep that in mind and take the more flattering bits with a pinch of salt and you'll be grand.

b. Archduke of Sarajevo by Gordon Brook Shepherd - I'm only halfway through it proper, but it seems promising so far & from the skim I've given it, which is why I'm even here reading it in the first place djhdkdkdkdks

c. So this isn't one I've actually read YET, but Alma Hannig's biography is also said to be very gracefully written and I'm dying to get my filthy hands on it. School library i am BEGGING you ((derogatory))

20. What is your favourite possession that refers to your favourite historical figure (e.g. statue, book etc.)?

Ok sorry for the absolute degeneracy but

UHM LOOK AT THIS EXTREMELY LITTLE MEOW MEOW I MADE?????????? 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡 ISN'T HE JUST STUNNING ((listen I don't //own// any ''''official'''"" merch or whatever which is a crying shame, like I couldn't find anything in Vienna even :( not that I'm too surprised, but desperate times call for desperate measures -))

#Notes to the opera populaire #Re the book one ive DEFINITELY read other books but they dont really stand out as books //about him// which is why #I picked a book i havent read over them...... I WILL attain it. I WILL attain it. I w #Anyway other notable mentions are the archduke and the assassin by lavender cassels which is decent #Esp in the first half where shes writing him but it doesnt quite hit after - gets more political abt the pre war situation than biographica #The secret of sarajevo satisfies my sweet tooth but it is VERY airy-fairy so i cant say it's like. Objectively good djnsksbdjkshc #And re the media question i think theres an austrian tv series which hes in???? Im mad curious about that one #Bc the guy playing him looks like he's done comedy from stalking his Instagram page and theres like one (1) photo he looks franzi enough #((i mean not q there ofc bc. Truly 👁️👄👁️ BUT)) #he also does look sufficiently awkward in one of the behind the scenes shorts and im optimistic!!1!1!1 i have to be bc there is NOTHING 💀 #Anyway. Yeah i am also trying to get my hands on that I'm deadass the let me in!!! Meme @ everything #aLSO..... RE STUFF I ALSO. HAVE UHM. A MASK WITH THE ASSASSINATION ARTICLE ON IT & A GRAPHIC TEE & A STICKER OF MY ICON aka my sisters joke #History #Edit: he doesn't look like franzi would it kill to give ur actors light blue contacts at least or like the right hairstyle ffbfjfjdjdjdjdk #Edit 2: hitler and the habsburgs started out promising and i liked whatever they had to say about franzi! #The author even picked up that he was ND in some way and i was like yeah...... But then the writing got increasingly subjective #And there were no footnotes/in text citations to boot either which :///// anyway i couldn't even finish it just got too annoying sO

[wastrelwoods]

god i really thought you people were lying about laios and kabru just for the sake of pretending like there is a gay little thing going on when its questionably textual at best but this shit is for real fascinating. unprecedented. master manipulator kabru playing both sides operating behind six layers of sublimated yaoi to obsessively plot laios' downfall. and on the other side of the coin notable Grade A Grass-Fed Freak laios touden experiencing a completely normal crush on the first pretty man to demonstrate polite interest in his passions and hobbies. i can only imagine laios is gonna be out here milking minotaurs like 'hm. if kabru was here now...i wonder if he would enjoy this too..... that would be nice (:' whilst kabru is pacing a deep furrow in the cobblestones clear on the other side of the dungeon vowing up and down that he will commit to sucking laios' dick meat clean off the bone if it might bring him one step closer to seeing his head on a pike

#if you spoil me for dungeon meshi ill kill you #dungeon meshi #labru

[yeah-thats-probably-it]

Hot take maybe but I think Bertie would be FAR more likely to survive the first two months of Dracula than Jeeves would be. Bertie has a healthy sense of self-preservation. Jeeves consistently underestimates how dangerous a situation might get (Steeple Bumpleigh, the club book) because he’s overconfident about his level of control over any given situation. He'd handle Dracula masterfully if they faced off in England, but on Dracula's home turf? Much more doubtful.

I realize this might be a tough sell, so I will explain further (or it's not a tough sell, and I'm going to explain further because I want to). (criteria taken from @canyourfavesurvivecastledracula) Without further ado.

Would Jeeves and Wooster survive Castle Dracula?

Jeeves

Jeeves' survival will depend on how long Dracula finds him more entertaining than irritating. On that basis, I don't think he's long for this world. On the one hand, he has a huge wealth of knowledge about English society and culture that he can recite perfectly from memory. That should buy him at least a little time with noted teaboo Dracula.

On the other hand, he would be absolutely no fun as a vampire plaything. Jeeves cannot be got. Sneaking up on him while he's shaving will yield zero reaction (though that's at least good for his short-term survival--given that, although he DID take the crucifix from the old woman out of politeness, he certainly isn't going to wear it. The rules of fashion don't go out the window just because you're in a spooky castle). Then, although managing the whims of rich jerks is not an insignificant part of a valet's job, Jeeves usually does this by bending his employers to his will. Dracula is not the sort of employer this will work on. It'll just add insult to injury when on top of being impossible to scare, NOW Jeeves is telling Dracula that his favorite cloak is several centuries out of fashion and he's not allowed to wear it anymore.

Jeeves will 100% go exploring in the areas he was told not to go-- though to be fair, he MIGHT actually get away with this, what with his superpower of appearing in rooms without being seen or heard. Said superpower might save him from the brides as well (though this is by no means guaranteed). Since I find it doubtful that Dracula would come to rescue his annoying ass, not being noticed is his best defense.

There are a couple other things working in Jeeves's favor; the question is just whether they'll be enough to save him.

He DOES know shorthand, and could try to send coded letters. He might even have the foresight to squirrel away some extra stationary where Dracula can't find it. But could he get them posted? Would it even do him any good?

He certainly has enough cultural literacy to figure out what his new boss is pretty quickly. If he didn't chuck the crucifix out the carriage window, he might start carrying it around in his pocket.

Psychology of the individual, sure, but the individual in question is a 400-year-old vampire who lives in an isolated castle in a foreign country and is regarded as a terrifying mythological figure in the surrounding villages. Jeeves has never come up against anything this alien before, he's cut off from his normal resources, and opportunities to play people against each other are limited.

He probably has enough upper body strength from all that shrimping and fishing to climb the wall, so he COULD escape if he wanted to, if he survived long enough. It's just, again, that overconfidence, and also Dracula has a vast library full of rare old books that are entirely at his disposal. He's keeping his eyes and ears alert for potential escape strategies, of course, but I don't see him being as desperate to get out as Jonathan was.

There are just a lot of "depends on"s here, and I'm not convinced that luck would shake out in Jeeves's favor, all things considered.

Bertie

Bertie is so perfect for the job of Castle Dracula Prisoner it's like it was made for him. Think about it. Being held against his will in big manor houses comes more naturally to him than breathing. He's afraid of things that are scary. A lifetime of dealing with Aunt Agatha has made him the world's preeminent expert in "curl[ing] up in a ball in the hope that a meek subservience [will] enable [him] to get off lightly." He will NEVER go exploring in places he's been warned away from if nobody is forcing him to (Rev. Aubrey Upjohn's office notwithstanding. There were biscuits in there). He's both fun to talk to and easy to toy with (and extremely English). A+ prisoner. Dracula adores him.

In my opinion, Bertie is at Castle Dracula either because Aunt Agatha got some wires seriously crossed and thinks he’s going to meet an eligible potential bride (I mean, there are certainly brides there), or because Dracula has something Aunt Dahlia wants him to steal (far less likely, given that one of Dracula’s THINGS is famously not owning anything silver). Either way, he's shown himself entirely willing and able to escape down drainpipes if a sitch gets too scaly.

He DOES take the crucifix, and DOES wear it (which is what will save him during the shaving scene, because you KNOW he's going to jump a foot and cut himself like the dickens). He's read enough supernatural goosefleshers to be genre savvy about terrified old women cryptically pushing crucifixes into one's hands. I also think his sunny disposish endeared him to the villagers, and they were particularly vehement about urging him not to go. He doesn't speak German or Romanian, but he's empathetic enough to recognize Pure Terror. So by the time he actually gets to the castle, his imagination is already running wild and he's plenty aware that he is in imminent danger.

I think the biggest risk to Bertie will be the brides; whether or not he's susceptible to trances, if he thinks they're trying to marry him, it's against the code of the Woosters to turn them down. But that only becomes an issue if he comes face to face with them, which, luckily, I think is unlikely on account of the aforementioned "won't go exploring" (and if he did, Dracula would definitely rescue him).

I'm inclined to say due to his drainpipe-escape habits that he WOULD be able to climb the wall and MAY attempt to sneak into Dracula's room to look for the keys if his desperation grows to outweigh his fear. Whether he does or not, though, he does NOT have the stomach to attempt shovel murder, and therefore won't get magic brain fever, and may very well simply walk out the front doors when the people come to take the boxes away. OR he climbs his way out like Jonathan did. Either way.

When Bertie tells this story at the Drones later, Tuppy will say that no doubt it's been greatly exaggerated and all that probably happened was that he spent a couple months in an oldish house entertaining a weird loner.

#do YOU think jeeves and wooster would survive castle dracula? let me know in the comments! #they're in the castle separately instead of together because those are the rules ok #the isolation is key #though if anyone wants to speculate about what would happen if they went together i will NOT complain #i don't even know what's going on with the tenses in this post i'm sorry #// #jeeves and wooster #reginald jeeves #bertie wooster #dracula #do i need to tag dracula spoilers? #sure there are some people new to receiving letters from our good friend jonathan harker #here it is just in case: #dracula spoilers #i have done my due diligence