#when you think about how half of these characters would turn into ashes this month… | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

muddyorbsblr · 1 year

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summoned pt1

See my full list of works here!

Part of the 500 Follower Celebration Requested by: Anonymous

Summary: After what could probably be the worst birthday of your life, a mysterious shadowy figure appears in your bedroom while you were sleeping.

Pairing: Incubus!Loki x Reader

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: language; A+ parenting that would impress Odin; inaccurate summoning rituals; Loki feeling you up in your sleep [let me know if I missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: Loki's a sex demon, not a god in this one

Worst. Birthday. Ever.

You walked through your apartment grumbling those exact words as you finally toed off your cinching pumps and padded your feet over to the kitchen counter, placing the little cupcake you'd gotten for yourself as a pitiful excuse of a 'celebration' for today. A joke, really, considering what a colossal shit show the day had turned out to be.

First the printer had jammed, keeping you waiting in queue for over three hours just to complete the solitary task that was in your workload for today that kept you from ending your day earlier and hopefully finding a way to actually celebrate despite your entire family being too busy to even call for a simple "Happy Birthday, Y/N" greeting over FaceTime. Something about them all going out to celebrate your sister getting cast as an understudy to a secondary character in her school play.

And then to add salt to the wound, not even HR could bother to have invited you to the free lunch they arranged for this month's celebrants. They told you that it must have slipped their minds when they were orienting you.

"It didn't even cross your minds to double check when your total number of celebrants for the year didn't match your total number of employees?" you asked them, trying to keep your composure because, after all, you still needed this job to pay your goddamn bills.

"Honestly, Miss Y/L/N, we just thought that the system glitched. It was just off by one. We didn't think anything of it."

A glitch. That was what you were to this company. Hell, to your family as well. Barely even a blip on the radar. Just something they remember actually existed when everything else managed to go wrong in their lives.

Now here you were, sitting in your little one bedroom apartment in New York, alone and lonely on your 29th birthday, wondering how you could have lived your life so invisibly that nobody even noticed you'd somehow slipped so far between the cracks that you were collecting dust in a corner of the room that nobody could see, let alone reach. How could you have gone your entire life and you didn't even have someone to call when you wanted company?

How could you have been so alone that nobody would even think of you if they wanted company?

You decided there was no harm in making a wish for yourself as you searched for a lighter for the tiny candle to cap off the dismal start to the final year of your 20s. You took out a piece of paper and scribbled your wish, tears prickling in the back of your eyes as you penned the words.

Someone that makes me feel less alone.

You lit up the candle and held the paper to the flame, a tear escaping your eye as you whispered the words, "This is all I want." You watched as the tiny sheet became engulfed in flames, disappearing into ash floating around the air so quickly that your fingers didn't even have enough time to feel the fire licking across your skin.

"Happy Birthday, Y/N," you sighed, blowing out the candle. "Another banner year," you whispered sarcastically into the dark silence.

You went about the rest of your night in the shroud of darkness, making the split second decision to change into a black silk negligee that you'd been reserving to wear for when you finally had someone to spend the night with rather than just spend a fleeting half hour with before you ended up leaving their apartment because you just couldn't feel a connection.

Perhaps the time had come to accept that you weren't meant to have that type of connection. With anyone.

With that depressing thought taking over, you laid down in bed and allowed sleep to take you, letting your thoughts drift into nothingness as you focused on the dark and the quiet that surrounded you. The same dark and quiet that always surrounded you.

What you heard next might as well have shot ice straight through your veins. "Well…hello. Aren't you a pretty thing."

It's just a nightmare, you told yourself. Just squint your eyes really hard and you'll wake up.

You tried to squeeze your eyes as hard as you could, but you could still feel that you weren't quite alone, the faint touch of a hand ghosting over your body on top of your comforter, the husked voice humming in a sound that vaguely resembled satisfaction. "How fortunate of me to have been called to such an exquisite creature." You stilled as you felt a warm breath by your cheek, followed by the feel of a tongue tracing along the shell of your ear. "We're going to have such fun together."

When you felt the hand slide under your comforter, warm fingertips beginning to trace along the column of your neck, was when you finally found it in you to move. Perhaps if you couldn't squint your way awake, then you'd just have to jolt your body into waking by any means necessary.

The only thing was…you were awake. And in the darkness you could see the silhouette of a man with long hair hovering over you. You let out a scream so loud you were sure the roving guard in your building was about to break down your door for fear that you were getting slaughtered in your bedroom.

The shrill sound was enough to have the figure seem visibly taken aback that it gave you just enough leeway to push him off of you and propel yourself out of bed. "You have ten seconds to tell me who you are before I…I…" You fumbled around in your bedside drawer, not once taking your eyes off of the intruder's distractingly sculpted silhouette, and grasped the letter opener you kept inside. "Before I slash at you with this. Ten!"

"I have no need to explain myself. You summoned me."

"Keep telling yourself that, buddy. Nine!"

"Do you truly not recall summoning me, you beguiling little creature?"

"Creature??" you shrilled. "Alright that's it, you just knocked five seconds out. Four!"

"Alright wait, wait! If you truly do not recall then perhaps we can discuss this? Preferably without meager weapons," he said, holding his hands up in a show of surrender. You proceeded to shout Three, making him let out a sibilant exhale. "If you won't listen to reason, then perhaps I must make you listen."

In the next moment, the figure disappeared, thin wisps of smoke being the only indicator that there was even anything that once occupied the space he stood in.

You started to let out another shrill scream into your now empty bedroom, only for the sound to die in a muffled squeak as the intruder re-materialized right beside you, clamping a large hand over your mouth…and nearly half your face.

"Shhh little mortal, please. I'm not here to harm you." You could feel yourself relaxing into his almost tender hold on you as he whispered the words into your ear, your reaction leaving you both shocked and appalled at yourself. "I swear, I am simply here because I was summoned. To perform a purpose. If what you say is true and you truly do not recall, then perhaps we could find out together why I've been brought here?"

Well shit, when he puts it that way, I must be a complete nimrod to keep screaming, huh? you hissed sarcastically at yourself. Considering that his hand was still covering your mouth, you simply nodded your response slowly, allowing him to take the letter opener from you with his free hand.

"If I release you, do you promise not to scream?" You let out a long exhale through your nose, slowly nodding your answer again, relief beginning to flood your system as he pulled his hand away from you and you began to walk to turn on the lights in your bedroom.

"Look I don't know who you are or what you are or what the fuck you're doing in my home, but I can promise you, on my life, I didn't summon you," you started, already emotionally exhausted from the disappointment of the day combined with this bizarre encounter from…wherever this intruder came from, with his tricks and smoke and mirrors. When you flipped the switch and your bedroom became awash with a warm white glow, you finally got a good look at your unexpected visitor.

But now I definitely wish I did, you thought to yourself. He was…for lack of a better, more fitting word, beautiful. A face that seemed as if it was sculpted and perfected by the greatest artists history had ever known, and that same scrupulous attention to detail had been given to the rest of him, too.

You never did understand back then what the women in your office meant when they described a man as someone that looked "built for sex". But now…looking at the man who stood mere feet away from you? Now you understood them perfectly.

"How about we start with why you believe I summoned you to begin with? And maybe names?" You struggled to maintain eye contact with him as he tilted his head at you, angling his body in a way that suggested he was about to approach you again. "I'm Y/N. And you are…?" You extended your hand to shake, a gesture that honestly seemed so ridiculous considering what had just happened moments ago, and where you two were.

"I am Loki. Of the Incubi," he replied, taking your hand in his. However, instead of shaking it like you'd expected, he raised it to his lips and pressed a kiss to your knuckles, the action taking you by surprise right alongside the information he'd just revealed to you with those few words.

"Incubi? Sex demons?" you huffed out incredulously as you began to break into a fit of laughter, pulling your hand away from him. "Now I'm definitely sure you got your wires crossed somewhere. See, Loki, there's no fucking way that I summoned a sex demon. We can start with…I don't even know how."

Your laughter faded into a little squeak as you felt his fingers lightly grasping your chin, tilting your head so that he could take a good look at you. You began to squirm under his gaze as the moments ticked by. "I believe you," he breathed out, the disappointment visible on his face. "A shame. How I would have enjoyed being pleasure-bound to one as breathtaking as you."

His words rung with such an unapologetic honesty that it had you fighting back the heat rising in your cheeks…and swirling in your lower stomach. The way he moved his hand to cup your jaw, his thumb stroking your bottom lip, only worsened your already building desire for the man. No, not a man…demon. As if reminding yourself that he wasn't what he seemed was going to quell that fire; if anything, it might even make it worse, especially considering what kind of demon you were dealing with.

"Perhaps you unknowingly summoned me, then," he murmured, his face hovering so close to yours that you could feel his warm breath on your lips as he spoke. "Was there anything that you did tonight that was out of your regular routine? Perhaps that could lead us to…well, where we are now."

You moved out of his hold with an audible sigh. "Alright…well, I came home from work. It was my birthday, so I made a wish on the candle of my cupcake." You started walking out to the living room/dining area of your apartment, half-heartedly waving toward the space as if to say 'this is where that happened'.

"Quite curious…" he trailed off, walking to the kitchen counter and running two fingers across the surface, placing wholly inappropriate thoughts in your mind about what kind of devastation those sinfully, egregiously long digits could possibly wreak on your body. "And how did you make this…wish?"

You started walking around your living room, trying to retrace your steps since you came home from work earlier, up until you also reached the kitchen counter, trying not to focus too much on the feel of his hand now resting on your lower back, fingers loosely curved around your waist as if he was ready to pull you towards him at a moment's notice.

"I wrote it…on a piece of paper," you muttered, placing your hands on the countertop, willing your memory from a few short hours ago to return to you. "I said 'This is all I want', and then I burned it on the flame before I blew the candle out."

It barely registered to you that he'd moved so that he was standing directly behind you as you were recalling the events before you went to sleep, his hands now resting on either side of your waist, holding you loosely against him. "Hmm…there it is, then. Your wish that you set aflame, that is what summoned me." You fought against your instinctive urge to lean in to his touch and shudder at the way he was whispering in your ear, lips hovering so close that you could feel them ghosting over your skin as he spoke. "Tell me, darling, what did you wish for?"

A shuddering breath escaped you as you felt him move, tracing his nose down the column of your neck, ghosting his lips along the curve between your neck and shoulder, all the while whispering against your skin his soft-spoken command to tell you what you'd wished for that resulted in him being summoned to your home.

"I wished for someone that would make me feel less alone," you sighed your admission, your words barely audible as you fought against your urge to tear up again.

You felt Loki tense against you, maneuvering you so that you would turn and face him, a mix of confusion and concern rife on his devastatingly beautiful features. "I must admit, I'd never been summoned by a wish so…vestal." He reached up and proceeded to push locks of your hair away from your face, tucking the strands behind your ear. "Usually when I am summoned the wish is more…carnal in nature."

"Because sex demon…" you muttered, smirks tugging at the corners of your mouths.

"Indeed," he answered you, a low chuckle escaping him as he tucked his fingers under your chin, tilting your head to look up at him. "Your accidental summoning of me does not change the fact that I am now bound to you, darling mortal. I cannot leave you be until I've fulfilled your needs." A shiver ran through you at his words, worsening when he leaned down, hovering his face mere inches away from yours as his hand traveled down the length of your arm wrapping his fingers around your own hand. "Come with me then."

You chose not to move as he began to lead you through your apartment, standing still and causing him to look back at you when he was met with resistance at your joined hands. "Come with you where, exactly?"

"Back to your bedroom, of course."

"I thought I made it clear that--"

"We're not to go there so that I may bed you, darling," he cut you off with a knowing smirk. "Unless, of course, that would satisfy your needs. In which case I would be more than happy to oblige."

You felt your walls clenching around nothing at his suggestion, tempted beyond reason to take him up on his offer even though you knew that while there was no doubt that sex with someone literally made for it would be mind-blowing, the last thing you needed was another meaningless romp in bed. "Then why exactly are you bringing me back to my bedroom?"

"Your wish," he began, relaxing his hold on you and walking back to stand mere inches from you. "It was for companionship, was it not?" You nodded mutely, a squeak escaping you as you felt his hand at your side, his thumb gently stroking along your ribcage. "From what I've observed with your kind, to sleep alone when one yearns for companionship may be one of the most cripplingly lonely feelings you can experience. I was simply intending to hold you."

His words left you staring at him blankly, struggling to process his words. "Honestly I just thought you were gonna skulk around in the corner while I lived my life because that would be like zero effort for you, and it would still make me feel 'less alone'," you tried to joke, biting your tongue when you saw that he'd only responded by furrowing his brows at you.

"You are far too beautiful to be this guarded," he murmured, leaning closer to you that you could feel his warm breath at the bridge of your nose. "You deserve to have someone to hold you. You shouldn't have had to feel this lonely to begin with." He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. "I apologize. It seems that I was all that the fates could give you."

The gesture took you off guard, the tears that you'd been fighting back since you got home from work finally escaping your eyes and rolling down your cheeks. You wrapped your fingers around his hand, squeezing lightly in a silent gesture that you were letting him lead you back to your bedroom. You couldn't form the words anymore.

When he had you settled in your bed once again, only this time gently cradled in his arms, a large hand stroking up and down your back as he began to lull you to sleep. "Sleep, beautiful little mortal. You need not be alone any longer," he whispered before pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. "Not if I can help it."

"I really don't understand why you would be upset over this, Y/N. You should be thankful for the sentiment behind it, not the timing. What's important is that we remembered eventually, isn't it?"

You rolled your eyes at your mother's condescending tone over the phone. You'd spent the entire drive back to your apartment from work listening to her justify herself for at least remembering to greet you happy birthday.

Only thing was that it had been an entire six months later. And now she was trying to guilt you into warmly accepting her half-hearted greeting of 'oh I completely forgot, Happy Birthday, sweetie', as if it held any merit now. "Honestly Audrey, how can you even forget your own daughter's birthday for six months? I mean if I were in your shoes I'd remember the anniversary of the days that an entire baby threatened to rip my vagina in half."

"Language, young lady! And how dare you call me by my own name, I am your mother! And you know that we were caught up in celebrating your sister's accomplishment with her school play. Becoming an understudy is a big deal you know."

"I haven't been a young lady for ages, and you haven't been my mother for just as long," you snapped back at her. "And even she was able to text me six fucking months ago apologizing on your behalf and greeting me herself. And how the fuck should I know how big of a deal it is to become an understudy I was too busy becoming the lead when I was still going to school. Last I checked you weren't even in the audience when that happened."

"You really should stop this nasty habit of making everything about you, dear."

You let out a frustrated scream in the hall, the sound prompting your apartment door to open, the sight of Loki stepping out the door clad in his version of "casual clothing" calming you significantly. 'What's wrong?' he mouthed at you, nodding in clear understanding when your only response to him was 'Mother'.

"Do you even fucking hear yourself?? You call me with a half-assed apology for forgetting your daughter's birthday sixmonths ago, and you expect me to just accept it with open arms going 'Of course Mommy I'm so happy you remembered it's the thought that counts'? And now that I'm calling you out on your A+ parenting at least where Stella's concerned since you just love coddling her and celebrating everything with her down to her fucking participation certificates, you're gonna have the balls to tell me that I should stop making this about me??"

The feel of Loki's hands on your shoulders, thumbs resting snugly between your shoulder blades, pressing and rubbing soothing circles in an attempt to mediate your temper, had you taking a deep breath before you went on.

"Audrey I don't want to hear from you ever again. Facts are…you haven't checked in on me since before I moved out of the house. You've pretty much mailed me everything that I left behind there so that you could tear down the wall and give Stella a fucking princess suite, so there isn't even a single trace of me in any square inch of that place she can freely call home.

"You haven't been a mother to me since Stella was born, let alone a mom, so you know what? We might as well cut ties now before I start saying shit that's really gonna hurt your precious fragile ego. Goodbye. Don't ever contact me again. I'm blocking your number, and if you even dare fucking show up on my doorstep I'll call the fucking cops on you. Have the life you deserve."

You felt the phone get taken out of your hand before he turned you around to pull you into a warm embrace. "Are you alright?"

"That felt really fucking good," you mumbled into his chest, starting to let out a hearty laugh as you wrapped your arms around him to return the hug. You lifted your head to look up at him, a smile stretching across your face as your eyes met his. "Hi."

"Hello, precious girl." A small traitorous giggle escaped you as he pressed a kiss between your brows. "Welcome home."

Your heart was doing somersaults at his words, your mind struggling to process them as he easily lifted you off your feet and walked you both into your apartment. Home. The word rolled so effortlessly off his tongue it placed the cruelest image in your head.

One where maybe Loki could stay in your life forever. One where maybe in the last six months of him providing you companionship, you weren't alone in your stupidity in falling in love with the sex demon.

That maybe said demon fell in love with you, too. And the blissful domestic atmosphere that surrounded you whenever you walked into your apartment wasn't just an illusion.

"I have a question," you spoke into the dark quiet of your bedroom when he held you that night, lulling you to sleep. You looked up from your head's position resting snugly on his shoulder, your breath audibly hitching as you saw how menacingly beautiful he looked when his features were illuminated by the moonlight and nothing else.

"Ask away, darling." You could feel your eyes growing heavy as he proceeded to stroke your hair, earning you a low chuckle from him.

"You don't sleep…"

"That is true, I don't."

"So what do you do while I'm asleep?" You brought out another chuckle from him as you fought back a yawn after asking your question.

"Count the hours until the sun rises and your infernal alarm begins to blare in our ears and pulls you out of your peaceful slumber. In those hours, I read something from your shelves occasionally. But mostly I would watch over you, wonder what it is you're dreaming about that brings out such raw reactions upon your face."

"Fuck you must be bored out your mind, I'm sorry," you murmured, feeling yourself sink deeper and deeper into sleep.

Your brows furrowed together at the feel of his fingers lightly grasping your chin. "Look at me, Sweetheart." Your eyes met his through your heavy-lidded gaze, a lazy smile tugging at the sides of your mouth as you looked into his darkened gaze. "That couldn't be farther from the truth. You could never bore me."

A violent fluttering erupted in your stomach as he leaned in and pressed his lips to yours, a mix between a sigh and a satisfied hum escaping him as he kissed you.

"Never," he insisted before pressing one final kiss to your lips. "Now go to sleep, darling."

"Mmph…thank you, Loki."

"What ever for?"

"For making me feel less alone."

Those last words you uttered before sleep finally took you echoed in Loki's ears like ominous drums that signaled a death march. Each time the words came back, the sound would grow louder, beginning to thump against his chest as if his heart was rushing to give out.

He'd forgotten that it could even do that.

For so long it had taken on this slow, almost snaillike pace that he could have sworn it stopped beating eons ago. It was only that first night, as he held you in his arms, that he could begin to feel the echoes of a pulse once more.

Now those echoes were more than prominent, each thump inside of him signaling that now that you said those words, his time with you was about to come to a screeching halt.

He dreaded how it would happen. Would he simply be summoned to another's bed, simply to resume the process of meaningless trysts with sleeping women that craved nothing more than to be fucked into a stupor that more often than not led to permanent and unfavorable side effects on their part?

Would he be called back to Lilith's domain? To face an admonishment for taking so long on this particular assignment when he could have ended your plight so much more quickly and efficiently?

Would he even be able to say goodbye to you? Could he even bear it to see the look on your face if he did?

"Take it back," he pleaded softly at your sleeping form, desperation lacing every word. "Please. I don't want to leave you, Y/N. Take it back." He held you tighter against him, pressing kiss after kiss to your skin as he kept on begging you take the words back. "I can't bear to leave you, sweet girl. I love you too much for that."

A/N: Okay so I took quite a few liberties with the request but I hope you like it, Anon! There's going to be a part 2 to this because I want to give them a happy (and smutty) ending.

'everything' taglist: @sailorholly @loopsisloops @unlucky-number-13 @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @sarahscribbles @kats72 @kikster606 @evelyn-kingsley @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th @lovelysizzlingbluebird @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @dangertoozmanykids101 @elizabethmidnight2017

Loki taglist: @calumance @severuslovebot @moonlightreader649 @i-stand-with-loki @nixymarvelkins @cheekyscamp @lokisgoodgirl @purplegrrl27 @thedistractedagglomeration

#loki x reader #loki x female reader #loki fanfiction #loki imagine #loki fanfic #muddyorbs writes #fic requests

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a-court-of-moonlight-and-ire · 24 days

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I got caught shoplifting a few weeks ago so Im gonna have a court proceeding (? if thats what you call it in english idk) in a couple hours and Im a little bit nervous but the shit I stole was only worth 7€ and it was my first time getting caught so I dont think it'll be too big of a deal. Honestly Im just glad I didnt get caught while I was stealing ~85€ worth of acotar books, because my punishment would not only be wayyyy harsher it would also just be embarrassing, imagine stealing sjm books when theres so many good books you could steal from a bookstore

Anyway, speaking of acotar books, its livebloggin time. Last time, Feyre and Rhysand came to this cabin in the woods/inn in the middle of nowhere and stayed in a room thats so small that you couldnt even have sex in it and then they had sex. not penetrative sex, they just fingered each other. Which is to say Rhysand fingered her vagina and Feyre fingered his wings because god forbid a man be on the receiving end for anything other than a blowjob. Also, I guess Mor, Cassian and Azriel are somewhere else? I didnt wanna say anything about them being gone bc I just kinda assumed they were staying with Feysand but they seem to be gone. whatever I dont care about those guys anyway

Chapter 49

Feyres internal declarations of love and wanting to be with Rhys forever feel very shallow when you consider the fact that 1) theyve only had like 3 months worth of non-traumatic interactions with eachother, and 2) she thought the exact same way about Tamlin and then she DIED FOR HIM and then she left him after barely half a year

'"You know exactly that I would do anything for my people and my family."' 'Your people' consisting of one (1) city

Feyre's pussy feels slightly raw from getting fingered hours ago?? thats not a good sign.

'"I'm not gonna turn away from you. Not from you," I promised him quietly.' honestly, i can believe that, if you can fully forgive someone for physically torturing and sexually assaulting you after like a month or two you can forgive them anything, I have no idea why Rhys would be worried about that

can you imagine if Rhysand got shot with poisoned arrows and he just died right here. Life could be a dream but alas, I live in a nightmare world

I actually really like Feyre going feral over her love interest like this (even if that love interest is Rhys) I dont we're gonna get much more of that in this series so I shall savour it

Yeah, now that she mentions it, how come one ash arrow was enough to straight up kill Andras but Rhysand gets hit by like a dozen and hes just fine after this. I guess it could be that Feyre shot Andras in the eye so it was more lethal than Rhys getting shot in the back and wings but still, afaik there are no longterm consequences from this, like hes not even gonna have to deal with idk, his back hurting at certain points or something

Im not a fan of Feyre being so murderhappy now when she was reluctant to even kill animals at the start of this book, like at a certain point Im not so much bothered by Feyre's character being retconned from ACOTAR but her character from start of ACOMAF

Damn I didnt think the sex would be anything other than a pointless diversion, but here it is, being plot relevant

How come these guys have been torturing him by just stringing him up and leaving the arrows while they whip him, if I was an evil torturer and had just gotten my hands on a guy with wings Im sawing those badboys off immediately. or should i say batboys ahahahha.hahha

Oh, just a splinter of ashwood can he deadly but of course Rhysand is gonna be pretty much fine after being impaled with seven whole arrows

'"And Elain would love [Velaris], I'm sure of it. Although she would probably cling to Azriel the whole time, looking for safety."' smth about that line feels icky to me, I think its the fact that I dont think Elain actually properly interacted with Azriel at this point and also, Velaris is a perfect paradisical city what on earth would she need his protection for there

ughhhh all this bullshit with the dresser is so unbearably annoying

I guess I'll see how this all actually pans out next chapter, but right now I gotta say I dont like the fact that Rhysand's wounds just heal on their own, I couldve used some good whump with him. And Im not just saying that because I dont like him and Im a sadistic little bitch, even though both of those things are true, Im saying this because I think seeing him in a vulnerable position for an extended time would make me like him more

#anti acotar #anti acomaf #anti rhysand #anti sjm #flames and darkness liveblog

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duckapus · 8 months

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Horror Comedy AU where Ash Ketchum is an eldritch abomination spawned from an Unfathomable Void, but is still his usual self.

Basically, Delia was an Interpol Agent back in the day with luck just as strange as Ash's, and on her Last Job she got captured by a doomsday cult that was trying to summon a dark god equal to Arceus Itself and bring about the apocalypse. This doesn't work out, both because Delia's Aura awakens and messes with the ritual (I always prefer to think that Ash's weird ambiguous connection to Sir Aaron comes his mom's side even if in most universes she doesn't have a usable amount of Aura), and because the Void God they're trying to awaken helped Arceus create the world in the first place (and the two of Them kind of have a thing going on) so It wouldn't have helped them destroy it even if the ritual had worked.

Instead they only get a "small" fragment of Void Stuff that mixes with some of Delia's Aura to become a living mass of Darkness covered in writhing tendrils and glowing blue eyes that absorbs all the cultists, knocks out every Pokemon in the room, frees Delia, and shrinks down into the form of a human baby. Delia, being a Ketchum and a major character in a crack fic, promptly decides "my baby now" (to be fair she's not exactly wrong?) and leaves Interpol to reopen her late grandmother's old diner in Palette Town. She was planning to do that anyway even before ending up with a monster baby so it works out I guess.

Meanwhile, Giratina actually noticed the massive spike of Void that was Ash's birth and since the whole issue got resolved so quickly it takes a couple months for her to find where her new half sibling ended up (you read that right. She's the god of symmetry, Light and Dark are included in that, so Arceus and Void God both created her. Also I'm using she/her for Giratina because immortal genderless embodiments of universal concepts can use whatever pronouns they want), and when she does she offers to help him learn how to use his void powers...well, mostly. See, in this version of the Pokemon Universe not all Legendary Pokemon are gods and there are gods who aren't Legendaries, and the ones that are both tend to lean towards one or the other, so Giratina who's more Pokemon-leaning and only half-void functions very differently from Ash who isn't Pokemon at all and almost fully void, so there's some things she just can't help with.

Still, the fact that she's offering to help at all is a big relief for Delia who is doing great so far but would probably be in over her head raising what's essentially a Horror Movie Monster on her own, so Giratina makes semi-regular visits over the years both to help with powers and just to bond with her new little brother (and new mom because there is no way Delia Ketchum doesn't win her over). Also, absolutely no attempt is made to hide Ash's true nature both because I find it funny and because the Pokemon World is already weird enough that Palette Town having a baby demon just living there barely registers as noteworthy.

As far as Ash's childhood goes, it mostly follows the same beats as canon, though there are obviously some weird things that pop up. For one thing, one of his powers is that he can understand any language, including Pokemon. And, because they're sensitive to this sort of thing Pokemon can usually tell that he isn't human even without him using his more obvious powers, and that makes most wild Pokemon more receptive to him than usual.

Except birds. Birds really don't like him for some reason.

Also he turns out to have healing powers, which he finds out during that scene with Serena. Basically, he makes the cloth he ties her injury with out of some of the Void Stuff that makes up his true form, and by the time they get to Professor Oak both the cloth and the injury are gone. There are, however, side-effects, which Serena only finds out about after she moves to Kalos and Ash only finds out about years later when he saves Charmander. (I'll get to that later)

On to the first day of his Journey, things only go slightly more smoothly thanks to Ash and Pikachu being able to communicate properly, and they still get chased by every Spearow on Route 1 because all of them are trying to "Destroy the Void Spawn!" This means they still fall off the waterfall and get fished up by Misty, who gets the Full Horror Experience because after All That Shit Ash is worn out which makes him kind of Melty. And, well, Pikachu is injured, the Spearow are still coming, he can't maintain a coherent enough form to keep going on his own, and this is Season 1 Ash who can be kind of an impulsive jerk sometimes at what would normally be the bike stealing scene, so he kind of...possesses Misty and Books It.

And since this isn't a power he's ever used before and he's using it in a high-stress situation while injured, his control isn't the best, so she catches a glimpse of the Unknowable Truths of the Void, and that combined with her being there for the Biggest Thundershock Ever makes her a little...fanatical about Ash's whole Eldritch God Thing. They're still friends first and foremost and still develop something similar to their usual dynamic but the fanaticism is there, especially at the beginning. At least she's not worried about the bike this time?

Also when Ho-oh shows up he kind of visibly stumbles in midair because he was not expecting the Chosen One to be that! This is why we don't let the local Mew be the only one doing check-ins.

Anyway, Brock and Team Rocket are still their usual selves, apart from Team Rocket deciding to do research into how to fight demons so they'll actually stand a chance at stealing Pikachu so now they've got a Nacli (because salt) and a bit of an Exorcist Schtick going on.

The Charmander Incident goes a bit differently, because they just barely don't make it in time and Ash basically tells the universe NO and brings him back, which is how he finds out that his healing powers have side-effects because this time those effects are immediate. When Charmander's tail flame relights it's somehow black, he has what seems to be a new Ability that makes all his Fire-Type moves also do Ghost-Type damage, and as time goes on his scales darken until he has Shiny Charizard's color scheme. This goes further when he evolves, because he has some clear differences from a normal Charmeleon beyond just his colors, and he seems to now actually be part Ghost.

I also had some ideas for later on, like May being full of Ghosts because she's easy to get into but extremely hard to get out of or control, and Dawn being Akari who ended up as a Hisuian Zoroark and got back to the present the long way, but for now this is what I've got.

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scrawlingwithstyle · 18 days

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I just feel like info-dumping about my D&D character. If you're interested, strap in.

Ash, a half-elf trickery cleric, had a best friend and partner-in-crime, a tiefling who took the name Serendipity (Sera for short) for the goddess of good fortune, Tymora.

They played pranks together and partnered up for Ash's sham magic trinket shop.

Some time in the future, Ash got teased for being a trickery cleric who doesn't know how to pick locks, and I just realized: she never learned because that was what Sera did. Sera was the rogue!

Anyway, they were close friends for a few years before Sera was kidnapped and killed. Another conman killed Sera as part of a greater tiefling-genocide scheme to try to gain power, but he also had a personal grudge against Ash, so Sera was more than just collateral damage.

Ash took it extra hard because she was working up the courage to tell Sera she was in love with her.

About 8 years later, Ash is still on the hunt for the conman, whose real name she doesn't know. She is also part of a party who are in training to become deities.

She meets Dave, a life cleric who values honesty so greatly that it leaves a great impression on her. She's immediately intrigued and thinks she'll just keep tabs on him from a distance--until he finds out her party is supposed to make a new creature and he can't allow them to meddle with the power to create life.... Not without supervision, anyway.

In a moment alone together, Ash reveals her past and real name to him, and he helps her figure out what kind of a deity she wants to be.

Not long after that, the party finds the bastard who killed Sera, put him on trial, and at sentencing, turn him over to the party's death cleric (who specializes in vivisection) and her necromancer boyfriend. (Dave requests to be blissfully ignorant of his fate.)

In a very brief period of time (like 2 weeks), Ash and Dave kiss, her party saves him from an evil goddess who kidnapped him, and a few other events lead to them getting married. Since Sune (goddess of love) officiated the ceremony, they were telepathically bonded (they share thoughts back and forth) and each knows exactly where the other is.

(This is relevant: Dave's dad has many wives and partners.)

It has been around 3.5 months in-game since then, and the party is still working on their creature. Their travels take them back to the Astral Plane, where Ash had been invited to seek out Sera's spirit (they had met thrice in the last year, and each time Ash figured it would be best not to share her feelings).

When Sera pulls her aside for a private conversation about everything she's missed (the wedding, Ash getting pregnant), it gets harder and harder to not tell her how she feels. In her mind, Dave encourages her to do so. She confesses, Sera cries, Ash cries, and then Dave interrupts with, "I love you. And I'm not the only one."

Ash has already made up her mind to bring her friend back from the dead, but she is confused at what he implies. "I thought... when I said I didn't want to share you, you felt the same way. Did I miss something?"

"I don't intend to share you with another man. I would not wish for you to share me with another woman. But she is not another man, and she is not for me. I have no such reservations in this case. Besides... she had you first."

Shocked and delighted, she tells Sera what Dave said, and asks if this is an arrangement she would be happy with.

Sera agrees and joins their party as a spirit.

~~~

This is where we left off, but now we have a new side quest to resurrect Ash's dead girlfriend. I also made this:

#tw: mention of death #tw: mention of genocide #dnd #d&d #bisexual #cute #polyamory #my character is out here with two relationships #and i can't even get one #but I'm okay with this for now #she's my main source of escapism anyway #they have many things to discuss so no one feels neglected #there was SO MUCH MORE #but i had to condense it because it would have been too long #I ALMOST FORGOT THE BEST LINE #''besides... she had you first''#😭

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amaya-writes · 2 years

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Cherry Blossoms and Forest Fires: Touya Todoroki (Dabi) x Reader

Notes: This started off as my thoughts just being written out and turned into sort of a Dabi fic. Kinda inconsistent but it's got the vibes.

Warnings: Mentions of death/funerals, kinda spoilers? I don't read the manga so I don't know much about Dabi's origin story but everything I mention about the past is things I've pieced together from fanfics.

Characters involved: Touya Todoroki (Dabi), mentions the other Todorokis

Gender-neutral reader, you/yours

Dabi felt a weird attraction to you.

You who was just another hero kid from another rich hero family like the Todorokis and Tenyas.

Who was around Natsuo's age and honestly didn't even know the Todorokis too well, yet the fact that you gave Touya a cherry blossom and jokingly asked him to marry you when the two of you were kids stuck with him.

It stuck with him enough to have him occasionally drop by your house or sneak past your bedroom window in the middle of the night when he was young and alone and had no place to call home.

It stuck with him on those nights when the streets of Japan seemed a little too cold as he nursed his burns and the new bruises and scars littering his body, hiding away in a back alley and hoping tomorrow would come with the promise of revenge.

It stuck with him enough to ensure that even after all remnants of Touya died and made room for Dabi, you still remained on his mind.

Not as a constant reminder of the past like his father, but as a bittersweet fleeting memory, just like that cherry blossom he had let loose to fly into the air so that it could be used to torment another seven-year-old boy.

It stuck with him like paper planes on summer afternoons, like the crackling of dying bonfires, like half-finished poems muttered contemplatively in the middle of the night.

It stuck with Touya like a memory, yet it was one that, if he chose to, he could allow himself to relive.

It wasn't his fault.

If anything, it was yours.

Yours for giving him that flower and plastering on that stupid grin as you called him cute and said you wanted to marry him.

Yours for making a seven-year-old Touya envision sights of the two of you growing up to be the heroes your parents couldn't and, one day, swapping vows at an altar.

A thought that had him disgruntled and disgusted then but now only led to a small scoff or smile depending on the day.

Yours for pestering him and pressing on, asking how his day was and letting out those dramatic little gasps of yours as you pried over and mended his wounds from training every time the two of you met, which wasn't as often as Touya would have liked.

Yours for gushing over him and giving Touya the one thing that could have possibly fixed it all: love.

And not just any kind of love.

No, the kind of love that had you sobbing at the back of the room as you watched the Todorokis mourn a brother and child of whom they didn't even have a body to bury.

The kind that had you fondly smiling, even giggling at the picture Fuyumi showed you when you dropped by their house almost a month after the funeral.

A picture that represented that one day that started this peculiar...thing that existed between the two of you.

The kind of thing that had you pinning said picture on your wall and looking at it mournfully each time his death anniversary rolled around.

But then Dabi's gaze would shift away from the picture to instead gouge the other sheets of paper stringed up around your room, ones that depicted you and your hero friends.

And he would realise, albeit begrudgingly that whatever he felt for you went beyond a little weird attraction.

He would realise how strong of a memory you truly were, for you weren't distant like the crackling of a dying bonfire but lively like a forest fire ready to consume him.

Touya Todoroki thinks that the kind of love you feel for him, felt for him, is the kind he doesn't deserve. The kind he should run away from and avoid until it withers.

But Dabi? Dabi persists in reigniting the ashes of your dead love just so they can rise and fester into a flame that had you choking, burning, dying for him.

Touya Todoroki had no qualms letting you live your life while he lived his.

Yet Dabi insisted on ensuring your little pipe dreams of being a hero were washed down the drain with him.

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pysoch · 9 months

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hey chat do y'all ever feel like posting angst that didn't make the cut into your book?

Here's a chapter I had to yank from Scarlet Fever because I realized it revealed too much about the character, but I'm proud of how it turned out. It's short because it didn't take me too long in a re-read to realize I couldn't really let this go out without the precursor, and it's far too much to ingest in one chapter. While not a spoiler (removed names, places, events, etc), you might understand metaphors or phrases in future chapters a lot quicker/easier! Person who guesses which character this is gets a gold star I think!

Quick head of warning, this was written on a particularly rough day. Some of this had heavy topics which I censored due to both Tumblr's lack of warning and censorship, and instead is replaced by terms one might think is immature. Please respect the writing decision as I don't feel comfortable letting terms I used in vulgarity out on a public platform.

Enjoy, huge TW for angst and pain

============

I hate how humans always desire what they can't have because it's starting to drive me insane. I'm in a constant climb to reach something that at the last moment is pummeled to ash and leaving me a dark husk who steps down from the rocky wall I scaled, shifting to the next.

My feet bleed, my hands have fresh calluses, I'm congested in one nostril, and sand keeps falling into my eyes. I have no harness so I fall and hit my spine against the cold earth as the wind is knocked out of me. Instead of resting against a stone, or giving up entirely, I force myself to my feet and grasp the jutting slab to force myself upwards and shakily plant my heel on the one below me. It slips, and I face a moment where my cheek is grazed by the cliff's nails and gifts me a ruby-colored gash.

After the sun beats on my skin another two hours, three days, four weeks, five months, or six years, I hoist my leg to the edge and see the chalice holding water I've been beating myself to drink for however long my spirit can hold it. That length is forever. I am incapable of giving in or letting the scurrying memories of the only people important to me bear on my back. It's been nearly four years since I've smiled at something without having to make my muscles tense up and provide the correct response to social charades.

When I reach my dirty hands out to the silver cup embezzled with welcoming designs and handles to make it easy I hold it to my lips and, in the definition of insanity, expect a different outcome from the previous hundred attempts to hydrate the ever-longing thirst. When it touches my lips, I can hear the small ripples of the sweet liquid inside it splash against the sides as it shifts position before placing itself inside my mouth. Like a magical transformation, or metamorphosis going backwards, its angelic taste and promises catches a glimpse of what disgusting demon is chaining it to a slaved task of providing comfort, and shifts into coarse miniscule stones that crunch to settle between the cracks of my teeth and open wounds from my dry tongue.

I place the cup down and let the mix fall out of my mouth and sift through my fingers into a small pile below my knees and above my courage. Jumping down would kill me and provide what I've been striving for, but it's a fool who throws his life to his God's feet and begs a reason. So I tug myself up and forward, brushing off soot to act like I'm alive once again.

This next wall provides a change. The portion of my life where for even a half second, I had a harness holding me. Five minutes given to me where I was secure and wouldn't have another welt on my skin from toppling. When I inevitably failed and hastily accepted anger flooding into my fall, I wouldn't hit the rocks and instead would feel air flow through my thighs in a tight squeeze of leather as I started back again from where I had made a mistake. Belaying me is a hazel-eyed girl with dark hair that matched. Nothing else on her face was made out of hazy shapes, but I could clearly see the fingers that shook a vibrant purple trying to carry my weight. The only time in nearly twenty years I truly had a sense of security who I knew would be there, holding the rope. She was beside my routine for several lapsed moments.

It was the seven-hundredth and eighty-first wall (the sixty-second I had done with her) when I felt a sudden slack in my rope. I had a wavered sense and looked back. Instead of the snaking coil beneath her ankle as she fed the thick cord through her thumb and index, beside her was her own arm; outstretched and holding it loosely. I tilted my head to see a sheen across her cheeks in small lines as her other hand outstretched towards me. I grasped it and tugged her closer towards me to be met with a halting squeeze. She returned my favor, and I hit the wall again, hardly feeling my fingertips as they caught any edge they could. I released her. She gave me a long look that nearly put me to the bottom, before my mind filled with the silver chalice and instinct for survival. I turned back, another palm to stone and heel to sleet. When checking my rope, it was instead drooping beside my waist instead of hanging up and through the iron hold. The snug feeling of fabric against my waist slowly lightened, the rope I felt for dropping down. The thuds of mass hitting the ground never rang through my ears. A harsh tingle shook me as the tight woven threads against my hands were replaced with a small hold of sand. It fell to join it's family. To my side, in a direction backwards from me, the silhouette of a woman who knew every humiliation in my past, each blotch hiding from my persona, and inch of my skin sunk to a trembling air. As I recall the blurred visions we shared, I see flashes of purple against her pale complexion and black sagging beneath her eyes. The more she hoisted me, the harder it was for her body that strained and gave in to keep up. After watching me fall, get back up, and fail only to pursue the next for those several hours together, it only occured to me recently that perhaps she wasn't trying to join me, but allow me the option to join her. My pursuit of an empty dream was hurting her just the same as me, and repeating the cycle would've lead us both to our deaths. Her wisdom hid from me at the time, until she was a faint memory. Only then could I put the pieces together that I dropped to the ground and stared off where she had gone to for quite some time. I never saw her again.

Each climb was harder due to the obvious lack of my support from below, but even as another gash formed on my frail flesh, I couldn't even see the goal of the chalice. It had struck me that perhaps at the top I begged a different prize. I longed for the safety she gave me even if what I did caused the bridge in our relationship to burn and spin the ashes into mourning piles. It had invaded my thoughts so harshly that when I reached the top once more, I sat and stared off to ponder. Perhaps I forgot my life before I started this never-ending crescendo upwards. It seemed from birth I'd been placed in front of towers and expected to climb. What other thing in life could there be? Yet there was always her. Not another "option", but as the one that holds you even if it kills them. I missed love. I miss loving. I longed for looking back at her narrow eyes and perfect hair cascading in sweet strands over her shoulder. I desire to give the same safety to someone that I have received, despite the inevitable fact I'd given it away merely days prior. I wish to give that gift. Love. It consumed me so much that my tongue could hardly process the chalice reaching my jaw and distributing sweet nectar that stayed liquid down my throat, until the never-ending drought in my insides vanished in quenched ice.

I tossed it and swiped at the now non-existent sand like usually residing below the cup, greeted with air and a slight swoosh noise. When I leaped down and headed to the next, I looked at my hands that seemed to be tougher. The fresh wounds into white calluses, and cuts scabbed over in a pale sheet of new skin. They were rejuvenated, and I was made half again. When I put my toes onto the rock and reached my sore muscles towards a higher grip, I pushed off in a leap to the next solid area for my feet. The heat backed over me, and I glanced upwards at the glorious sun challenging my perseverance and heart for another day. Its glorious entrance was interrupted by a pitch shadow, standing in front of it almost as a mockery. I looked into its face, seeing what had shown its appearance over the edge from the very top. Hazel eyes stared me back."

#team fortress 2 #team fortress two #teamfortress #tf2 #headcanons #original story #writing #long reads #au #alternate universe

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ashwithapen · 9 months

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!wip

viva la ávila

genres: young adult, coming of age, semi-autobiographical

rating: between PG-13 and R (view content warnings)

summary/blurb: After a taste of independence the previous summer, 17-year-old Ash waves goodbye to their dad at Heathrow airport and boards a plane to Spain where they travel to Ávila for two weeks of unbridled freedom with their friends from school. Two weeks, just fourteen days, and the world at their fingertips. A group of Sangria-loving, cigarette smoke-smelling idiots, and the front steps of a church might just change their life, but one question had begun haunting them from the very first night: Would they be able to retain their sobriety after eight months of being clean?

content warnings: drinking, smoking, sensual scenes

aesthetic: this vlog i made of the trip that inspired the book

status: 7.4k words, 4 parts, ongoing

read it straight from the doc

below the cut: characters, playlist, excerpts

characters:

(note: only doing the 'main' main character (the pov) because there are too many other focal characters -_-)

Ash - they/them - the point of view - bisexual, greyromantic, non-binary - aspiring teen author with an angsty few years behind them, too many thoughts, a gay past, and— a crush on a boy? - just read the first part of my pinned post/intro here lmao

playlist: ávila 2023

excerpts:

I still feel it now, you know. I still feel it, looking at pictures of you on my phone, checking Snapmap just to see if you’re out right now or at home, grieving our message history as the 24 hours come to an end and any proof that you’ve ever even known me vanishes into oblivion. Even now, I still feel it. Even now, I still think it: Ask me again.

— from part 1: "Arrival"

There were people all around me with rainbow dripping from their frames as flags, as makeup, as wristbands, as clothing, as hats, you name it. And all I knew how to do was smile, my eyes forming new creases at their corners as my cheeks stretched upward relentlessly. It was loud in my head, the same phrase of words rearranged and restrung with the same meaning every time: Know me. I am here. I am like you. Know me. I had taken my flag off the wall back home when packing my suitcase two weeks before on a whim. I’d packed my flag in the back of my day bag that morning in Brenda’s guest room on a whim. And then, when we got caught at a junction, watching, waiting for this procession to come up and swiftly carry us away, I said something about it, as though I’d totally forgotten something so intrinsic to who I was, as if I even could. “Oh, wait,” I said. “I’ve got a flag in my backpack.” And Isabel. She knew the right words and let them fall loose, probably not even knowing how much they meant to me in that single summer moment. “You can wear it if you’d like.” As if it was so simple. As if there was no thought behind it. As if it was so obvious. As if I had never been 13, or 14, or 15, 16, 17. And my hands shook as I swung my bag from my back and pulled the zipper open. I pulled it out in all of its creased glory and threw it over my shoulder, fingers unpractised but still so sure of themselves as they knotted the ends around my throat, colour cascading down behind me. And in that moment, I was the freest person on the planet.

— from part 2: "Saturday - Monday"

I went to the park that night and read my book and giggled to myself and ailed over the similarities between Elio pining for Oliver and me for Gillen. Elio sneaking into his own empty bedroom to slip on another man’s swim shorts, letting his scent waft around his head and turn him dizzy and stupid and so deeply into lust. I bit my finger overtop that page and let my mind wander back to my one purchase of Madrid. I wondered what its pale pink colour would look like between his ring-bearing fingers, how he’d hold it, if he’d be gentle. I shivered in the dark, imagining his dark eyes drinking in my body, flushed and naked and wanting. I half wished, at that moment in my fantasy, that he would be gentle, and half prayed that he wouldn’t—I knew that from him I’d want it either way.

— from part 2: "Saturday - Monday"

#get wipped lmao #ash writes #life writing #creative non-fiction #romance literature #sort of #ávila #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #writing

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starvingtillhelovesme · 2 years

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Since I'm an ass, I think I'll swap my weight loss strategy to fit those vibes

Thinking of writing a spite-list to put up on my fridge. Like writing down the people that motivate me to lose weight out of sheer spite.

E - yeah, we all know what you're doing, you can stop telling everyone that thin privilege is real because you've experienced it. It doesn't exist. It's just fat consequence hitting people like me. But believe me when I say I'm gonna be a skinnier bitch than you and I won't have to brag about it like you to get off :)

Mum - you've always tried to push diets on me because you 'just want what's best for me' and only cheered me on during my darkest ed times, turning a blind eye to the things I had to do to myself to get there. You'll see what happens if you tell a little girl that she'd be prettier if she was thin.

S - because I love you, bestie, but let's be real, I've always hated being the bigger one of the best friends. Also you've been an ass to me at the beginning of the year and still haven't talked to me since then even though you know I'm struggling. It's pretty clear you don't care so it's time for me to give you a reason to do so.

M - because you only started developing feelings for me when I was at my lowest. I think you loved me the way you'd love a frail bird with broken wings. You would have been able to teach me to fly but instead you threw me away like an old toy to chase after that beautiful magpie instead. For you I'll burn my gray feathers just to rise out of the ashes looking so beautiful you'll have to drop that other bird to be with me again instead.

L - because you are the most terrible human being I've come to meet so far. You enjoyed making my life hell for four months. You stabbed me in the back, framed me for stuff I never did and turned people on me, all whilst acting like you're the purest kind of angel. I hate the fact that my body is almost as volumptuos as yours. I hated it when you told me about your weight loss (which apparently never happened, no offense. But maybe you wanna stop starting your day with that half gallon of 'coffee' which is mainly full fat milk and sugar, don't you think?) like it made you something better. Stop talking behind everyone's backs, they know. Oh, and watch me shrink away, I know exactly the jealousy will eat you from the inside. But maybe it will eat away all of your ugly character and leave something lovely behind, who knows?

T - my dear ex. To make you regret treating me like shit. You probably should have decided you weren't into thick girls before losing your stiffy the first (and last) time you tried to fuck me just to tell me you're 'worried you're just turned off by my body'. I'm so glad I broke up with you but damn, would I love to see your face when you see me the next time and I'll have lost weight.

M - because you loved to put me down just to make yourself look better. You made two years of my apprenticeship feel like hell and now you want to get the title before me? Maybe you will but I'll get two titles plus lose the weight and even though I'm so much taller than you, I'll look tiny next to you. So enjoy the victory while you still can, I'll claim it back from your hands and believe me; I'll make you watch.

C - because you annoyed me so much with your behavior. Acting all puppy like while you went around sleeping with vulnerable men. I'll teach you how to hoe around the right way as soon as my body is ready.

I know I'm a total bitch for thinking these things but might as well use them as fuel.

#edblr #only pr0 for myself #pr0 m1a #pr0 mi4 #4n0r3x14 #pr0 m14 #m1a #pro 4na #pr04na #pr0anna #pr0 anamia

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lameghost · 3 years

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Scream blue murder.

Bonten! x yakuza! leader [part 3]

word count - 2,538

💿 - deathwish by poutyface, to the bone by j.t machinima

Warnings❕- angst + fluff+ suggestive. Mentions of death, sewer slide, drugs, physical and mental abuse.(slight hints of ptsd) Mentions of Izana x reader and others. Spoilers! Bonten arc. Blood and gore. (pinky cutting and mentions of gas poisoning, mass murder.) reader goes berserk! putting a knife in each other's throat? reader is freaky fugg. and also apparently, an expert at chemistry.

[part 1] [part 2]

“So, 12 years… You were gone, just like that and you aren’t gonna say anything, huh? Saying ‘I love you’ like that, ain’t fucking fair, y/n. I missed you for all those years. I searched for you like a madman. Fuck, you didn’t even come by to look for me or shit. You know how fucking miserable I was, after Izana was gone and you too!” Everyone flinched at the sight of the usually calm Kakucho raising his voice. You were surprised too, but you kept on an indifferent facade as you looked down, guilt overwhelmed you.

Kakucho takes a few steps towards you, “I wanna hate you for it but I can’t. You’re too fucking precious to me. The last one I have here, and I thought you were fucking dead.” You did no such attempt to avoid the slap which landed on your face as tears flowed down Kakucho’s face. You heard the faint gasp from all the executives of Bonten. You just kept quiet.

“Hug me, god fucking damn it. I missed you.” With no hesitation, you engulfed him in a hug, basking in his warmth which came into contact with your bare skin. You smiled, relishing the memories of your childhood.

“Fucking hell that was touching as shit.” Sanzu fake cries, deep down he still felt bad since he knew that you were as important to Kakucho as Mikey was to him. Losing you would have meant losing his entire world. In reply, you lifted your middle finger, sticking out your pierced tongue at the pink-haired male. He chuckles slowly.

“Holy shit, yer got piercings, that’s hot, dude.” You nodded at Rindou’s question .

“Show us, I mean your tattoos and piercings.”

“That’s a pretty specific kink you have, Sir Mikey. I mean, I know I look hot as shit but.” He snickered, signalling that he only wants your full identification.

“If you insist, your honour.” You fake sighed as you turned around and began explaining your tattoos.

“29 piercings and last I checked, around 18 or 19 tattoos. Got my first tattoo at 13, illegally. Thank god I didn’t die of infection or some shit. Dude was a nice guy, he even taught me how to take care of a new tat.” They all gasped, ‘doesn’t that shit hurt you?’. Ran and Rindou who were basically half covered in tattoos were also surprised by your ability to withstand the pain.

“Which one hurt the most though? Your tits or sumn?” Sanzu bluntly asks as he touches the tattoo on your left arm.

“Oh well, yer wanna see? Better pay money though.” You smirked and sent him a wink as you gave him a slight teaser of your tattoo, he blushed. Welp, you broke the dope peddler.

“You’re quite a mystery, aren’t you?” Mikey says, his voice dark and screechy, almost like he has been straining it.

“Your back. That ain’t a tattoo. Someone carved those characters into you.” He traces the Chinese characters on your back. You slightly flinched at the sudden cold touch of his finger. “Only the top brass of Yakuza has this, yeah? Which means, you’re the current hidden leader of the Yakuza. Working for them quietly backstage, is that fun? Don’t you wanna take the credit?” He was inches away from your face, you tilted your head slightly at his demise.

“Take credit? Pftt. Observant but dumb aren’t yer, pretty boy?” You cupped his jaw between your gloved fingers. “I fucking love it when people worship me, bow to me and praise me for all my work but I wouldn’t want my pets to go unrecognised do I? Plus, isn’t it harder to keep myself lowkey from the police that way? I have my plans, baby and I don’t like it when people question me.” You smiled and let go of his jaw, never in his life has he been this stunned by someone’s actions and indifference. This was a first.

“This carving was done by my dad. I was the only child who was able to take over the family business so, here I am. Healthier than ever!” You smiled, highlighting the dimples which brightened your eyes even more under the light which shone above you.

“So, you’ve taken a blood oath?” Kokonoi asks, curious.

“Oh that’s fucken bullshit. We don’t do those. We’re just old delinquents who don’t wanna follow laws, we don’t sacrifice ourselves. I mean that does sound cool though. The most we do is cut our pinky. I’ve cut 12 as of this week,” You sat back down, nonchalantly telling them. You put your suit back on, adjusting the tie.

Bang! A loud gunshot was heard from behind you, in one swift movement, you swooped Ran and Sanzu who were directly in front of you. ‘Top criminal organisers but can’t see a bullet coming their way? Great, fucking idiots.’ You looked down, the bullet grazed by your shoulder slightly. Thank god for that. You picked up the shell and the bullet which landed not far from it. You analysed the bullet, standing up immediately after recognising it. ‘Mauser C96. 0.45 ACP. Made in Germany. Oh fuck, why are they here?’

“Oi, you twinks. Came here to save me or something?” One by one, your members peeked their heads out from behind the oil tanks. Number 2, Tanaka Ryu. This kid has been behind you since juvie days. Once he got out, he looked for you and followed you till the very end even if it meant jumping into hellfire for you.

“If I couldn’t fight, I would have died to these hot dudes, you know? Do we need to practice again? Should I drill it into your brains?” All the members, a good 25 of them, stood at attention, weapons dropped to the floor with their hands behind their back.

“No, your honour!” In unison, their voices echoed one another. Bonten was too stunned to say a thing. Their mouths merely shut tight as your dominant aura overflowed through the entire warehouse.

“Good, and Tanaka, don’t mind, okay? Small mistake. I’m fine, n’ways.”

“Apologies, your honour. Take my pin-” You shushed him as you signalled everyone to get down and ready their weapons. Bonten, who was behind you, followed your command. You gestured for Mikey to come to your side, he slowly strides towards you.

“Mikey, listen. Now, your turf is being infiltrated. You heard that gunshot? Nagant M1895. That strong shit is only used by the Yakuza traitors. Those fuckers have been on my back for the last few months and I need a few extra hands so that I can alert my turf. After that, I’ll help yer. There should be at least 230 of them. 2 top heads and the other 8 executives. The rest are all their lackeys, bad fighting skills but good spirits. Now, we separate, I’ll alert your members too.”

You and Mikey, the leaders, moved into positions immediately. Working together for the first time but it almost seemed as if you’ve worked together for the past 10 years. You stationed Sanzu and your number 3, Haruto, right in front of you. These two are wild and have a few screws loose in their brains, so they make a good pair. They can slaughter some while you make a few alerts to your guards in your territories. You wanted to get it over and done with fast even if it meant, murder. So, you analysed whatever you had in your reach.

“Y/n-chan. What are you doing? I wanna smoke.” Sanzu said, questioning what you were looking at.

“Shush, let me think of a way to get rid of evidence fast and simple.” Haruto drags Sanzu back to their station as they both chat away, swinging the bloodied weapons in their hands. Psychos, I swear.

‘Benzoyl peroxide, TNT, fire extinguisher, bleach, ammonia and diesel.’ Fucking hell, they were making this a bit too easy isn’t it? You called Sanzu and Haruto over to help you. You took the empty tank, putting on your mask before starting and gesturing the two males to do the same. You poured the bleach into the empty tank followed by ammonia.

‘Do you think what you’re doing is right?’ The tiny voice in your head asks. ‘Well these people mass murdered 226 of the Yakuza members, isn’t it only fair?, ‘Of course, but can’t the police punish them?’. ‘What. They hurt me, not the police, I’ll make them save me a seat in hell. Especially that blabbermouth oldie.’, ‘I guess there’s no stopping you, y/n l/n. You’re a murderer after all.’ Wait, what the fuck? I’m not! They did it first, why is it me? Why am I to blame? Fuck, fuck you. ‘You’re a murderer by nature, y/n. That’s why your Mom and Dad passed this onto you.’ Shut up. They’re dead, they are just ashes, seeping into earth or maybe being swallowed by maggots. Those 2 are dead to me. ‘Your mom isn’t dead. Not yet.’ Well, I want her dead. ‘You gonna kill her, too? Like what you did to your old man? You’re naive, a pretty soul, one that I would kill to dirty but you already did it yourself.’

You halted your movements, Sanzu and Haruto stared wide-eyed at your face. Your face contorted with rage, aura screaming murder at them. This brings Sanzu back to 12 years ago when- nevermind. “Earth to y/n, we gonna continue?”

“Haruchiyo. Katana. Haruto, pass him your pistol, I’ll be right back.” ‘You’re gonna regret it, y/n.’

“SHUT UP! HOLY FUCK SHUT THE FUCK UP! UGH!” You let out an indignant roar, making Kakucho and Mikey halt their movements as they continued throwing punches to the opposing team. Kakucho ran towards you, covered in blood which did not belong to him.

“Hey, y/n. Hey, look at me.” You looked at him, tears of anger welling up in your eyes. (You can only cry when you’re angry but not when you’re sad.) He pats your back, telling you to kick some ass to relieve your anger. Well, that was your green light.

You swung the Katana out from your back which had a strap, tailor made for you to store katanas. As always, pecking the handle beforehand, showing respect. ‘About 104 left, gonna be easy.’ The rest of your members and Bonten members along with the executives gathered, wanting to watch you fight. It was almost like a playback of 12 years ago.

You dropped the katana to the floor, jumping onto the first person you see, hanging from the shoulder. You swung around, possibly breaking his spine and picked up two other men by their collars. Swinging them towards the tower of diesel tanks, you made your way to your next victims.

“So, pick yer death.” You smirked, but your eyes were empty and lifeless. Your bloodthirsty aura engulfed the entire warehouse, stripping the audience off any form of excitement. The male approached you, in a split second, he was inches from your face.

“HAHAHAAHA, you’re fast but you lack experience, sweetheart.” You caressed his face, voice coated full of sinister but in his ears, it was like honey. It gave his brain whiplash how contrasting your voice was to your actions. Without batting an eye or even giving him room to recover from your touch, your left leg flew forward. Landing directly onto the wound of his temple, plunging onto the floor. You took the chance to take a seat on his back.

You rummaged through his pockets, stopping when you found his phone. You dialed a number, the others stared at you curious. “I need about, uhh, 7, no, 8 ambulances, for the Shibuya area. The warehouse down the second turn. Thank yer!” You smiled and threw the phone across the room.

“Now, there’s only… let me see… 3 of you left. Rock, paper, scissors. Winner gets to pick the lucky one.” You signaled them to start playing, with trembling figures, the 3 males began playing. You placed the lit cigarette in between your lip, enjoying others misery.

“She’s kinda hot, though.” You heard Sanzu whistling and howling from behind you as you exhaled the smoke and took off your blazer, rolling up your sleeves. You sent a kiss his way as you made your way to the poor male - a prisoner of his own bad luck.

“Hey, mister. Long time no see. I’m bigger now, if you can’t clearly see.” You subtly flaunt, towering over the male before you. You bent lower so you could make direct eye contact with him. The eye contact sent cold shivers down his spine which made him froze, his lips quivered as you moved your gloved finger, gliding down his tattooed back.

“Oi, mister. I’m talking to you, it’s rude to not reply to your master, y’know? It kinda hurts my feelings,” You faked your sadness, pretending to sob into his shoulders. If he wasn’t already stiff, he is now officially the statue of liberty.

“Y-yes, your honour!”

“Good pet. Now, let me get my work done. You know what happens to traitors, don’t you? Perverted old man.” You removed the kunai which was secured tightly in the pocketed garter which hung from your thigh. You simpered, looking pleased at the amount of fear you could elicit from the pathetic man.

“AHHHHHHHH!” He writhed in pain, screaming blue murder.

“Okay, that was the last one! 12 plus 10 equals 22! 22 pinkies!” You giggled, cracking a smile from your scarred mouth. A horrifying sight, it was.

“Fuck, didn’t know you were capable of such cruel shit.” Ran sends a surprised look, scanning you up and down as you wiped the blood off your gloves and chuckled.

“Born and bred to do this shit.”

You knew you were done but there was some unsettling feeling that irked your senses, but what was it? Could it be you forgot something-

“We’ll take over from here, as an apology and a thank you for not murdering us.” Mikey said, a small smile on his face.

“Oh no, it was great working with you, Sir Mikey.”

“Don’t call me that, on god, I’ll put a knife in your throat.”

“Do it then, it’s not a threat Mikey. ” Your little bicker was put to a stop when Kokonoi seemingly ‘cleared his throat’ loudly.

“So, you’re a professional torturer, a sugar mommy, free show stripper, yakuza leader, a mass murderer, chemist and now, a hooker. What else do we not know about you?” Kokonoi asked, voice laced with curiosity. His eyebrows raised as his eyes searched for answers in yours.

“Oh darling, I’m a walking unsolved mystery. Yer wanna find out? Yer gotta dig deep into the layers of this earth. Yer wanna solve me still?”

“Yeah, I do.” The short, purple haired spoke up. (You forgot his name.)

“Oh then, put on a raincoat. This year’s theme is bloody halloween. Wouldn’t want blood staining yer expensive suits.” You stuck out your tongue, making a move as sirens filled the quiet warehouse.

‘Roppongi, Don Quijote, 31st October, 9 P.M. Be there or else you owe me candy.’ The boys chuckled, making a run as the police broke in.

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theminecraftbox · 2 years

Note

If you were in charge of writing a conclusion to c!Dream's story/character arc, how would you personally go about it? Would you give him a healing/redemption arc? Would you have him get worse before letting him go out in a blaze of glory? Would you kill him off and have his death be the catalyst for genuine introspection and change on the server?

/dsmp /rp

Mmm. I would write him getting everything he ever wanted, and it all turning to ash in his mouth.

The biggest thing I crave for Dream in terms of a fulfilling character arc is to see the successful completion of his Plan. I want the steps and the ideas, however he’s laid everything out in his head, to reach its conclusion. And then—then I want to see what happens when he “wins.”

Because he can’t win, right? What he wants is fundamentally unattainable. But for as long as that is a future prospect, something to work towards, Dream will be utterly unable to unwind himself from it. He will never stop striving towards it. Even months of torture was a setback rather than anything that’s actually deterred him from his path, so he has to see it through.

Any sort of healing or change or whatever you want to call it that happens before his Plan is completed, or happens under the requisite assumption that his Plan has either been derailed or set aside, must by necessity sidestep Dream’s most core motivations and coping mechanisms. Before Dream can change, he must win and therefore lose: that’s going to be the only way he will realize the degree to which he’s totally fucked, and totally fucked up.

After that, I’m open to nearly anything. I confess a blaze of glory/quick death would be dissatisfying, because I prefer the idea of Dream forced to sit in the rubble of his plans and have the loss work its way into his mind. I would write him lost and broken and completely disillusioned with himself, forced to realize that everything he did was for nothing, all his suffering, all the suffering he caused.

I dislike the term redemption arc even though I understand in what context it’s usually meant: that’s because I think that phrase puts too much onus on forgiveness or reconciliation or amends. That, plus there’s a presupposition that people are “redeemable” or “not”, or that they have phases that are “pre-” or “post-redemption”—which I think is a bad paradigm in most forms of media but which is an especially terrible fit for the narrative structure (ie the lack thereof) of dsmp. Healing does not need to look one particular way. Dream could become a healthier and better person without ever, eg, apologizing to Tommy or even explicitly regretting exile. Same with Quackity re Dream.

I will add that for a character I like well enough, that I find enough depth in, I find I’m usually open to nearly any sort of ending as long as I’m given sufficient space to contextualize and interpret. For example: I was dead sure I’d hate whatever the end of SPN had to say about Sam Winchester, and then 15.20 was phenomenal—and at least half of that was in how much room it gave the characters to breathe, and in how long the denouement was.

#I Just Want To See His Plan #give the people (c!dream) what they want #c!dream and the Plan #c!dream and morality #the plan

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despressolattes · 3 years

Note

Soooo, I was scrolling through Bakugou angst hashtag and I found that SOMEBODY 👀 wanted some requests... So here I am :3 💖💖 I couldn't find rules sooo sorry if I break one, also if it's too much characters, just choose from them 💖 Can I get Bakugou, Hawks and Denki if they cheated? 💖 Some scenarios about them cheating and their s/o finding out and breaking up with them? And make it really sad? 💖💖 Thank you :3 💖 Make sure to drink enough water and get enough rest 💖 Have a great day 💖

CHARACTERS: Katsuki Bakugou x reader

a/n: sorry, i just started watching the show last week and have yet to get to see hawks! i also feel like i haven’t seen enough of kaminari to write about him, so for now, this will just be bakugou! once i see more of those two i’ll write one for them!

WARNINGS: cheating, angst

•─────────°❋❀°─────────•

DON’T GO DESTROYING PEOPLE’S PERSPECTIVES ON LOVE; katsuki bakugou

You had known Katsuki Bakugou for as long as you could remember. The two of you went to the same grade school, and then the same junior high. Despite not being friends with the explosive boy:—quirk and temper wise—at that age, you watched him grow from the sidelines. You watched as Izuku Midoriya went from one of his childhood friends/admirers to someone Bakugou couldn’t stand the sight of.

You watched as his inflated ego burned the dedication of beating anyone and everyone into him.

You watched.

It was when he found out that you were applying to U.A high for the Hero Program that he started to pay attention to you. Your quirk had been the opposite of his: you could manipulate water in any of its three forms.

He paid attention to how you racked up points at the Battle Trials, he paid attention to you when you ended up in Mr. Aisawa’s class together and had to go through the weird first-day of school quirk assessment tests together.

He paid attention.

And watching and paying attention slowly became asking one another to spar together, sparing together turned into talking, talking turned into walking to class together, and walking to class together turned into hanging out at each other’s house’s to do school work.

And THAT turned into the development of feelings. From Kirishima noticing that you two were always together at school and asking Bakugou about it just a tad bit too loud, piquing the interest of your fellow classmates. Mina then wanted to know everything about what was going on, and Ochako insisted that she was there for you if you ever wanted to talk.

Todoroki, who seemed like he somewhat possessed both yours and Bakugou’s quirks, just in the form of ice and fire, nonchalantly added that he saw you two together outside of school.

Oh how you and Bakugou both wanted to hit Mr. Half-n-Half for that subtle comment, said in his normal monotonous voice, acting like he had no care in the world.

“Yeah? And why the hell are you even looking at me and Y/N, huh, Icy-Hot?” Bakugou barks at him, and Todoroki merely looks away, acting uninterested in the conversation.

•─────────°❋❀°─────────•

You suppose reminiscing on your U.A days together wasn’t the best decision to be making as you packed your bags. Standing at the foot of your bed—old bed—with your luggage on top, piling clothes into it, you had to gulp back tears that threatened to spill.

You heard the door to your apartment—old apartment—open, and you instantaneously tensed. You had hoped that you could get out of the apartment before Katsuki got home, but apparently nothing could go your way.

“Hey, Y/N?” you heard Bakugou’s voice call out from either the living room or kitchen, sounding a bit grumpy, which was his default tone anyways.

You stilled, not daring to say anything.

“She left a note? Silly woman?” you heard him mumble to himself, and you realized he was now looking at the farewell letter you had left on the coffee table.

It almost broke your heart to hear him say silly woman. Bakugou’s vocabulary almost always consisted of insults and curse words, but he tended to substitute his normal vulgar language for something more tender if it was directed at you. Now, if he was speaking to Kirishima, he’d probably get called a shitty man.

Tears fells rapidly down your face, and you held your hand to your mouth to try to muffle any sobs.

“What the—” you heard Bakugou curse, and an explosion followed. You could already imagine the crumpled up letter in ashes and scorched.

“Like hell she thinks—”

His footsteps vibrated through the apartment, and you knew he was making his way towards the bedroom. Unsure if he knew you were home or not, you quickly manipulated the tears on your face to the door, freezing the lock.

As if that would do anything, you scoffed to yourself, really hating the fact that Bakugou could easily melt the ice or just blow up the entire door.

“Y/N?!” Bakugou’s voice was frantic when he realized you were home on the other side of the door. “You silly woman, open this damn door and talk to me!”

He wiggled on it a few times, pounding on it.

You didn’t answer, and frantically closed your luggage. You glanced around, seeing nothing else you needed. The rest of them could be repurchased if you were to just leave now.

You looked at the window, at the jump it would be to get to the floor from your fourth floor apartment. It was a good thing you were a hero trained for stunts like this.

“Goddamit,” Bakugou grumbled. “If you’re near the door, stand back, I’m blasting it to shreds.”

But you weren’t by the door, before you were jumping out of your old bedroom window with your suitcase in your arms and tears flying down your face. Bakugou ran to the window, watching as you ran down the street, not even stopping to look at him.

His eyes drooped, and he watched you go, replaying the words in your note over and over again.

“Katsuki,

If you’re reading this, then I’ve made my leave from the place we once shared together and called home. I suppose you’re out right now, with that girl. You know the one I’m talking about. The same one I saw you with last month while I was grocery shopping, and I brushed it off as a fan or civilian who had borrowed a few moments of your time. Then, it seemed as if you grew more distant from me. Always on your phone, always distracted, always with a guilty look behind your ruby eyes.

Then, I saw you with her a few more times, but again, I tried to push the image of you to the back of my head because who said you can’t make new friends?

The image I couldn’t push to the back of my head was the image I had yesterday, walking into the apartment around noon to surprise you with lunch on your day off. You had expected I’d be out all day, and there you were, asleep on our bed with a woman who was not me, letting her sleep on my side and letting her cuddle up to the man who was mine. Mine since high school. Mine since the days when he was intolerable to most of our classmates, but I saw through his angry demeanor and tried to pour and push and shove as much love into his sorry personality as I could.

And all of our friends had thought I had done a good job. I guess I didn’t do as good a job as I thought.

But how dare you? I’m not saying that I deserve to be loved back all because I loved you, but I did deserve more than being half-loved. I deserved more than being loved just enough to not want to leave, but seeing someone else on the side. I deserved more than this deception and betrayal.

If my best was no longer good enough for you, you should’ve told me instead of allowing another person in our home.

Don’t go destroying other people’s perception of love just because you no longer feel any for them. I wish you had just broken up with me instead.

So, I’m the one that’s leaving, and like you, I’m offering you no chance to talk about it. Just like you gave me no chance of talking about what to do with our relationship when you began falling out of love with me.

I think I might always love you, Katsuki,

But today, I am going to do what you couldn’t, and love me more.”

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antariies · 3 years

Text

Visions of the Past: The Departing

Summary: The Commander never told Braham about their first death at the hands of Balthazar. Years later, he finds out in the worst way possible.

Characters: Pact Commander, Braham, Aurene, Balthazar

Notes: Commander’s POV (2nd-person); set before Jormag Rising; fluff, angst, hurt/comfort; 5.6k words, CW: blood, gore, character death, anxiety attack; the departing is and will always be one of my favorite instances and it sucks that we never got an emotional confrontation about it between braham and the commander. hope i did it justice. enjoy!

—

“Commander, can I use the Scrying Pool to view your memories?” Braham asks one day, apropos of nothing, sliding into the seat across from you.

You slam your glass of water back down onto the table with a loud smack, screwing your eyes shut and leaning forward as you choke on your drink. After a few seconds of intense coughing and waving away Braham’s apologies, you finally clear your throat enough to be able to speak.

“I’m sorry,” you croak, squinting at him in confusion, “you want to… what?”

“Uh, use the Scrying Pool to view your memories?” he repeats, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “Only with your permission, of course.”

“…Ah,” you nod slowly, letting the question fully sink in. You bring the glass of water to your lips again as you search for the right words. “That’s…”

A complete and total invasion of my privacy, your mind supplies helpfully.

“...a strange request,” you mutter into the cup. The only thing stopping you from shutting him down on the spot is the fact that it’s Braham. He wouldn’t ask this of you without a damn good reason. “And you want to see them because…?”

At this, Braham lights up, squaring his shoulders. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what the lost Spirits said. About how I need to be a better leader if I’m going to beat Jormag, y’know? So I figured, since you’re the best leader I know-”

You can’t help the fond eye roll you give him.

“-if I got to experience some of your memories, then maybe I could learn from them,” he finishes, nodding once in determination.

“It’s definitely an unconventional way of learning,” you remark coolly, resting your chin on your hand as you level an even, challenging stare at him. You’ve cowed countless soldiers and politicians with this look alone, honed to terrifying perfection over the years.

Undaunted, Braham sets his jaw and meets your gaze dead on. “I know nothing can replace first-hand experience, but I think this would be a good way for me to practice without, uh,” his eyes flicker down for just a moment and he swallows hard. “Without the risk.”

You quirk an eyebrow at that, but you don’t miss the way he absently fiddles with something small and wooden in his free hand and-

Oh, you think, recognizing it and finally understanding. Oh.

It’s been months, but the memory of your first day in Bjora Marches stays fresh in your mind.

It had been freezing cold in the barracks of Jora’s Keep when you and Braham had gotten locked in, but the ice that froze in your veins when you watched him stumble upon the mangled body of his former guildmate was colder still.

“Alva,” he’d whispered, stricken with grief as he sank to his knees beside her body.

“I’m sorry, Braham.” The words sat like ash on your tongue, tasting the same as the first time you had ever offered your condolences and every time after that. You never really got used to it.

“Garm… used to rest his head in her lap.” Braham had pulled her head into his lap then, smoothing her hair out of her face with the utmost care. You turned away to give him as much privacy you could, but the dead silence in the barracks meant you heard every hitched breath and muttered prayer to the Spirits. When he returned to your side after a few minutes, he was clutching a small wooden figurine.

“It’s Wolf,” he explained softly when he caught you looking, “Alva made one for each of us, but I gave mine back when I left, I… I had no idea she’d kept it all this time…”

He carries it everywhere now: a constant, physical reminder of his failures as a leader and as a friend.

You know the feeling all too well.

Unbidden, an acrid tidal wave of bitter jealousy swells up inside you. It’s not fair. You never had the chance to practice leadership because you were thrust into your rank, your title, in the middle of a war. You had no one to guide you. Every lesson you learned was written in blood and people paid for your mistakes with their lives.

The wave reaches a roaring apex, then swiftly crashes and breaks against the rocks of your guilt and better judgement.

It’s not his fault, you tell yourself, that you were given the short end of the stick. If you had had the opportunity to practice, to learn from someone else’s mistakes without risking the lives of anyone under your command, wouldn’t you have taken it too?

Of course, you think, picturing the Pact Memorial that still stands in Caer Aval to this day, of course I would have.

“Of course,” you say, gaze and voice gentle, “I think that’s a great idea, Braham.”

“It’s okay, I wasn’t expecting- wait, what? Really?” He stares at you incredulously, the beginnings of a disbelieving grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Are you sure? Because I honestly didn’t think you would say yes so-”

“Well, now that you mention it,” you start mildly, before stifling a snort and shaking your head in amusement as he scrambles to retract his words. “Yes, Braham, I’m sure. C’mon, let’s go before I actually start having second thoughts.”

As he helps you clean up the remains of your lunch, you can’t stop your mind from dredging up every embarrassing thing you’ve ever done in the past eight years. You shut your eyes in a fruitless attempt at blocking out the memories, a long-suffering sigh trapped in your lungs.

It’s okay, you reassure yourself, you’ll be in control of the memories you show him. What could go wrong?

“Hey, Aurene- oh. She’s not here.” Braham says, stopping at the entrance of Aurene’s lair.

You walk past him, a smile stretching across your face as you look around the room. It teems with plant life. Curtains of ivy hang from the tops of the room’s arches while giant Maguuma lilies and dozens of other flowers grow out of cracks in the floor, reaching toward the sunbeams that stream in from the open skylight. Clusters of Aurene’s iridescent Brand crystals cover the walls, filling in the holes left by years of neglect.

In the middle of the room, the Scrying Pool gives off a faint light of its own, its waters swirling lazily as you approach. The spot where Aurene normally sits is vacant, though, just like Braham said. Closing your eyes, you reach out to the bond you share with her. It hums at the edge of your consciousness, quiet and comfortable when you’re not actively talking to her. You give the slightest tug.

‘Just checking in. Where are you?’

A few moments later, a familiar sight flashes in your mind. A vast stormy sky, filled with blue-tinted thunderclouds and stretching as far as the eye can see. The Mists.

Then, Aurene’s voice in your head, clear as day. ‘Trying to figure out what Jormag is up to. So far… I still have no idea.’

“Are you talking to Aurene?” Braham asks. You nod. “Tell her I said hi!”

‘Braham says hi.’ you relay.

‘Hello, Braham!’

‘Alright, we’ll let you get back to it.’ You smile inwardly, a rush of affection warming your chest. ‘Be safe. I love you.’

‘Love you too, Champion.’ Aurene croons happily in your head.

“Aurene says hello,” you say, opening your eyes. “She’s keeping an eye out for Jormag in the Mists right now. I don’t think she’ll be back for a while.”

“Oh,” Braham says, slight disappointment coloring his tone, “Does that mean we can’t use the pool?”

“I’m not sure. Wouldn’t hurt to try, though,” you answer, walking over to it. Kneeling as close to the edge as you dare, you lean over to look into the waters. Your reflection wobbles with every ripple from the pool’s constant, self-sustained swirling and you study your distorted face until you catch some movement above your mirrored shoulder that doesn’t seem to be from the pool.

“Don’t even think about it,” you warn lightly, tossing a flat, unimpressed glare over your own shoulder.

Braham, to his credit, looks sorry for maybe half a second before grinning in a way that is decidedly far from it. Still, he concedes and backs away from you with his hands slightly up in surrender. “Oh, like you wouldn’t do the same?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at you.

“I would never,” you lie, turning back to the pool so he doesn’t see your smile. You make a note to push him into it at the first chance you get. “I’ve used the Scrying Pool a few times now and I can tell you that it’s way easier to view your own memories rather than someone else’s. Feels different too.”

When you first used the Scrying Pool to view Ryland’s memories, it wasn’t anything like Kas’ glamour during the All-Legion Rally. You weren’t just wearing his face and spectating from inside his head, you were Ryland. You felt everything, including his thoughts and his emotions, as if they were your own. It had felt so real that after waking up, it took a few seconds for you to realize that you weren’t him. Aurene had to calm you down as you scrambled around for a flamesaw that was never yours and shouted for a warband you were never a part of.

You can only imagine the state you would have woken up in if you had overstayed your welcome in Ryland’s memories.

It was different with yours, though. Those were easier to fall into, like slipping into a dream, and you always woke up from those with complete clarity.

Speaking of your own memories…

“I think I know the perfect one to start with,” you say, dipping a hand into the pool and focusing on a memory you’ve already used it for. You’re not sure if you’ll be able to access a memory without Aurene here, never mind control it. You don’t even know if two people can go in together, or whose body Braham would end up in. So you start off easy. Something you both remember. The leather of Braham’s armor creaks as he settles down next to you and does the same. He watches on in awed silence as the water glows brighter, swirling faster and faster until a small whirlpool forms in the center and pulls at the lily pads closest to it.

A familiar darkness crowds the edge of your vision and you let yourself fall backwards into the memory.

It’s not hard to spot Braham when his blood-red hair contrasts so starkly against the bright, white snow that covers the land and comes down heavy from the sky.

That, and he’s also waving at you from where he stands outside the gates of Cragstead.

“Hey!” he greets once you’re in earshot, shouting over the wind, “Hey, thanks for coming.”

You glance around. “Just us, huh?”

Braham grimaces. “You heard what Brimstone and Whitebear said. I tried sending out notices too, but…” he shakes his head, determination hardening his features. “Nevermind that, we have to go. My friends are in there.”

Turning your eyes upwards, you catch sight of billowing plumes of dark smoke as they start to pour into the sky. A strong gust brings the stench downwind and both you and Braham wrinkle your noses in distaste at the same time.

“No time to waste,” you nod. “Let’s go.”

You tighten your grip on your weapons and follow closely behind Braham as he leads you through the driving snow to the heart of Cragstead, cutting a path through the strange alliance of Flame legion and dredge along the way.

This is an evacuation mission, first and foremost, you remind yourself. Your gaze sweeps over the empty lodges and homesteads, searching for people. It’s not so different from the evacuation missions you used to do with your order when Zhaitan was still alive and a threat, its Risen minions encroaching further and further into the homes of Tyria’s minor races.

You find the villagers soon enough, all rounded up into small groups in the center of the town and trapped inside shimmering domes of fire magic. An equal number of charr and dredge guard each dome, their mechanical weapons whirring and spitting the occasional flame.

Braham growls at the sight and hefts his mace, rolling his shoulders in anticipation.

“Wait,” you caution, throwing an arm out to stop him from charging in. “We can’t just rush in. We’re way outnumbered.”

“We took care of those other guys just fine,” he argues.

“Those were just stragglers we picked off,” you gesture at the domes scattered around. “Here? There’s a dozen of them and only two of us. We can’t take them all in an open fight-”

Braham makes a frustrated noise and you hold up your hand.

“-which is why we switch tactics,” you finish, flashing a sharp grin at him. “They haven’t noticed us yet. Here’s the plan.”

The thing is, you’re no stranger to being outnumbered. Your entire time in Orr was spent leading handfuls of people on high risk, high reward missions, after all. It was kind of your specialty.

So it’s with practiced ease and calm authority that you explain your plan now, laying out a classic divide-and-conquer strategy that’s gotten you and your small squads through countless skirmishes against all odds.

It’s a flawless ambush, all things considered.

You and Braham hit them hard and quick, fighting in tandem as you push the offensive and give them no time to react or warn their allies before you cut them down. And with the help of his protective guardian magic, you two manage to free everyone without a single casualty.

“Where are the others?” Braham asks immediately as he helps an older man to his feet.

Despite his clearly injured arm, the man pulls him into a quick hug before answering. “They were chased up the mountain, to the shrine. I wasn’t- I wasn’t fast enough…”

“It’s okay, Haslo, I’ll go. Will you be-”

“We’ll be fine, thanks to you.” Haslo claps him on the back. “You and your friend be careful!”

When Braham looks over at you, you nod. Of course I’m coming with you.

The trip up to the shrine is shorter than you expected, but you think that might have something to do with the lack of flaming charr or dredge along the way. That only puts you more on edge and you ready your weapons, wary.

You don’t hesitate for a second at the entrance of the cave, charging in to catch the massive Flame legion charr and his grunts off guard. You’ve only known Braham for a few days and fought alongside him for less, but you two fall into a steady rhythm almost instantly, barely having to exchange words. You make quick work of the goons, letting him take care of the hulking charr. Braham doesn’t even let him get a taunt out, stunning him with a shield bash before swinging his mace into the charr’s snout with a brutal, deadly uppercut, spraying blood across the cavern walls.

With the threat taken care of for the time being, you and Braham free the rest of the villagers and escort them down the mountain, dispatching any stray Flame legion or dredge who tried to escape in all the chaos. While there weren’t any casualties, fortunately, there are still plenty injured, so while he talks to some of the other villagers, you help tend to the wounded as best you can. They have a long walk to Hoelbrak ahead of them, and you don’t envy them the trip.

You’re tying off a bandage when you hear him call your name.

“There you are,” he says, stopping in front of you. “Hey, thanks for everything. Really, I mean, I don’t know if things would’ve turned out as well as they did if you hadn’t shown up.”

“Glad I could help,” you say, tilting your head at him. “What are you going to do now?”

“After we get everyone to Hoelbrak, I’m gonna find out where all these Flame legion and dredge are holed up so we can track them down.” He pauses, then rubs the back of his neck with a nervous laugh. “Uh, that is, if you still wanna come along…?”

You smile and cross your arms. “Guess I’ll see you soon, then?”

The pleased grin Braham gives you is warmer than any hearth and twice as bright.

“See you soon!”

“Oh no,” Braham mutters, the first thing you hear as you blink away the last of the memory. “Oh, Spirits, noooo.”

“Something wrong?” you ask, keeping your voice light even as you eye him up and down in concern. It was his first time using the Scrying Pool, after all. Had it affected him differently?

He shakes his head. “No, I’m fine, I just… I just can’t believe I used to wear my hair like that.”

You keep a straight face for an admirable three whole seconds before bursting into snickers. When Braham groans and buries his face in his hands, you only laugh harder.

“For what it’s worth,” you say, smiling, “I thought it suited you.”

He glowers at you. “You’re just saying that.”

You make a non-committal noise and wiggle your hand in a “so-so” gesture. He groans again, falling backwards onto the floor.

“That was really cool,” he says after a while, staring up at the vaulted ceiling. “Being in your head, I mean. I felt so… in control the whole time. Like I knew exactly what I was doing.”

“You weren’t so bad yourself.” Leaning backwards on your hands, you tip your head back and close your eyes. “You were impatient—well, you still kind of are—but you handled yourself better than some soldiers twice your age. And you’ve only gotten better since then. Give yourself a little more credit, Braham.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you watch him flush at the praise, sitting up abruptly.

“Thanks,” he coughs into his fist, fighting a grin. “So, uh, any more memories you feel like sharing?”

You hum. “Several, actually. Ready to go again?”

You, grabbing the handles of a cannon with both hands and holding on for dear life as The Glory of Tyria lurches to the side, sending Destiny’s Edge, Pact soldiers, and Risen alike sprawling flat on the deck. When the airship finally rights itself, you waste no time, bracing your shoulder against the cannon and shoving hard until you have Zhaitan directly in its sights. The Elder Dragon is on the verge of death, pieces of its own body sloughing off itself as it clings desperately to the side of the tower. You take a deep, steadying breath and fire.

You, the only thing standing in between a crowd of fleeing civilians and a swarm of cutthroat Aetherblade pirates as they drop down from their airships. Lion’s Arch can be rebuilt, but lives can’t be replaced. You do a quick headcount, zero in on the weakest-looking one, and leap into the fray.

You, tracking down your teammates one by one as you tear through the dark, vine-twisted labyrinth under the Silverwastes, an undying behemoth of a Mordrem wolf hot on your heels. You lead them all safely through the maze, driven by the fierce desire to protect your friends. You will not lose anyone today.

You, the legendary Pact Commander, at your best.

After a few back-to-back trips down memory lane, you both decided to take a short break. For his part, Braham had opted to swing his legs over the edge of the pool, dipping his feet in. When he asked whether or not it was okay to do so, you just shrugged and told him you had already cannonballed into the water before. Multiple times.

“How are you feeling? No headaches or anything?” you ask after a few minutes of rest.

“Nope. I do feel pretty commander-y, though.”

You snort. “Commander-y?”

“Mhm. I’ve been in your head too long. Any second now, I’m gonna start spouting a bunch of your expert advice.” Braham clears his throat and puts on an exaggerated voice that you swear sounds nothing like you. “‘Remember, it doesn’t matter how long the hog’s been dead. It doesn’t matter that it’s been sitting in a toxic cloud. You can always try to eat it.’”

You roll your eyes and swipe your hand through the water, splashing him. “Okay, that’s it, I’m revoking your pool privileges. We’re done here.” You pause, expression turning thoughtful. “Actually, I think we are done here. I don’t think I have any more memories to show you. None that would help, anyway.”

“Hmm, what about your time in Elona? I wasn’t there for that.”

“Uh, you definitely were,” you say, shooting a quizzical smile at him. “Or do you not remember storming Joko’s palace with me?”

“No, no,” Braham laughs, waving dismissively, “I meant before that. I wasn’t there for… ugh, what’s his name again? Balthazar?”

For a brief, blissful moment, you only recall the part where you killed him.

Then your free hand flies to your chest on instinct, ghosting over a wound that no longer exists.

“What about him?” you ask, a little louder than necessary. You cringe inwardly, but Braham doesn’t seem to notice.

“Well, everyone told me you somehow took control of Joko’s Awakened army and got them to fight on your side,” he shakes his head, chuckling. “I didn’t believe them at first, but that sounds exactly like something only you could pull off.”

You can hardly hear yourself over the frenetic pounding of your pulse in your ears. “Did they… tell you anything else?”

“Not really,” Braham frowns, finally turning to face you. “Why, is there- woah, hey, are you alright?”

You open your mouth to answer, but nothing comes out.

“Commander?” His voice spikes with worry.

Swallowing hard past the lump in your throat, you try again. Still nothing.

You’re so preoccupied with trying to force yourself to speak that you don’t even realize your other hand is still in the pool until you feel the tug of an old memory on your consciousness.

Ripping your hand out of the glowing water in a panic, you can only stare in horror as that does nothing to stop the ancient, powerful magic from pulling you helpless back into the dark.

Everything hurts.

You wish it would stop.

It doesn’t.

You throw yourself to the side, narrowly dodging a fireball as it blazes past your head. Ducking behind a crumbling pillar, you press your back up against the stone and try to catch your breath.

You’ve bought yourself some time, at least.

This is a fight you know you can’t win, but the walls of flames surrounding the spire prevent your escape, so your only hope is to keep Balthazar distracted until reinforcements arrive.

“Any second now,” you mutter, and you don’t know if you’re trying to reassure or convince yourself.

You grit your teeth as another wave of pain wracks your body. There’s a nasty gash in your side, larger and deeper than the rest of your cuts, and it oozes sluggishly, soaking your armor in blood.

It’s bearable for now, but you can’t afford to be slowed down.

“Are you hiding, Commander?” Balthazar sneers, “How pathetic.”

Your answer to that is to dart out from behind the pillar, launching a flurry of attacks along his flank and back. When he twists around to send a volley of fireballs your way, you just tuck yourself into a neat dodge-roll, avoiding them all with ease. If you wince and stumble on the landing, you pretend not to notice and hope he didn’t either.

“Aw, you missed!” you taunt, sounding way braver than you feel, “How pathetic!”

Balthazar’s face contorts in fury. “Enough!” he shouts, and both the flames surrounding him and the spire seem to burn hotter than ever.

Before you can react, the ground beneath your feet erupts in a column of fire and you scream as your world is engulfed in a white-hot inferno. When the initial blinding agony finally passes, you find yourself sprawled out on the ground, pointed stones digging into your back and your weapons flung too far out of your reach.

Get up.

You only manage to twitch your fingers.

Get up. Now.

Your throat burns raw. When you try to speak, the only thing that comes out of your mouth is a pained whimper.

GET. UP. BEFORE BALTHAZAR-

You sense Aurene before you see her.

“Ah, the scion, finally come here to defend her champion.”

Finally…?

It clicks. Your heart stops.

Balthazar’s been toying with you this whole fucking time.

It’s impossible for you to form words, let alone make any sort of loud noise, so you try to warn Aurene through your shared bond instead, panic rising with every passing moment that she doesn’t respond.

‘GET AWAY,’ you practically roar at her, ‘TRAP. IT’S A TRAP. YOU’RE FLYING RIGHT INTO A TRAP, TURN AROUND, PLEASE-’

And Aurene roars right back at you. There are no words you can hear—you don’t think she’s old enough for that yet—but she can convey her feelings through the bond and right now she’s drowning out your desperate warnings with them. She refuses to abandon you. You are her guardian and her champion and she loves you and you promised over and over to protect her so she promised the same and weren’t you the one who taught her about loyalty in the first place?

It takes one self-sacrificing idiot to know one. You would laugh if you weren’t so fucking terrified of losing her.

Your vision swims and you only catch glimpses of Aurene’s skirmish. She’s a bright blue blur, swerving expertly in the air as she dodges fireballs and lets loose her devastating dragon breath every time Balthazar tries to swat her out of the sky. Snarling, he launches some sort of phantasmal chains at her and-

No.

No, no, no, nonono-

“Aurene!” you scream. The exertion sends you into a coughing fit, but you don’t care.

You’re crying now, too. You don’t care.

Balthazar is saying something, but you stopped listening to him ages ago. It’s a monumental effort just to crane your head towards Aurene, your vision clearing long enough to see her staring at you, eyes blown wide in fear as terror rolls off her in waves.

She tries to apologize and you rush to soothe her.

‘It’s okay, it’s alright,’ you reassure, ‘you have nothing to be sorry for, I love you so much, it’s not your fault, never your fault.’

Maybe you’re projecting a little. Whatever.

You only stop when a giant metal boot steps squarely into your line of sight, blocking her from view. You glance up.

Balthazar towers over you, his giant, flaming greatsword hovering menacingly by his side.

The fear that lances through your gut is primal.

You can’t die yet. Not here. Not now.

He notices the way your wide eyes trace his sword and bares his teeth in a humorless grin. Oh, he’s enjoying this, relishing the power he has over you.

“I thought you would put up more of a fight, given your reputation,” Balthazar remarks casually, circling you. With a lazy wave of his hand, his sword floats over and suspends itself in midair right above your chest.

Your already labored breathing dissolves into short, shallow gasps.

You can’t die. You’re not ready.

He lets the sword hover for a few more seconds before grabbing the hilt with both hands, raising it higher over your body. His face twists with hate, eyes blazing molten gold as they bore hungry and vengeful into yours.

You don’t want to die.

The edge of the blade glints orange from an indifferent sunset.

Please.

There’s a sickening crunch as he swings it down hard into your chest, punching through your armor and sternum and crushing most of your ribcage in the process. Then the blade severs your spine and you lose all feeling in your lower body.

Distantly, you think you hear someone scream, high-pitched and anguished. Was that Aurene? Or Taimi? Maybe both.

Certainly not you, although you’d tried to. What remains of your lungs are filled with more blood than air at this point, and it pours out of your mouth when you open it.

I’m sorry, you think, but you can’t remember what you’re apologizing for. Or who you’re apologizing to.

You’re so tired of blood. Tired of pain. Tired of feeling.

Everything hurts.

You wish it would stop.

It does.

The only reason you don’t wake up choking back a scream and clutching your chest like Braham does is because you’ve relived this in your nightmares far too many times for it to rip that kind of reaction out of you anymore. Still, it takes you longer than normal to push yourself into a sitting position and even longer for your pulse to even out. Fighting the urge to curl up and disappear from the world, you rush over to where Braham sits hyperventilating.

“Hey, Braham, hey, look at me, you’re okay, you’re okay. You’re here, you’re alive,” you reassure, and you’re surprised at how calm you sound. You work on getting him to match your breaths, counting out every inhale and exhale.

“Oh, Spirits,” he chokes out after his breathing steadies, his voice nearly cracking as tears prick in the corners of his eyes, “that was… how- h-how did you survive that?”

Your mouth shuts with an audible click. Biting your tongue, you look to the side, carefully avoiding eye contact.

You could lie.

Lie and tell him the airship made it just in time and the medics brought you back from the brink with a miracle. Another close call, but you pulled through like you always do. Spare him the pain, the grief. It’s been years, and there are more important things to worry about right now. It would save you both so much trouble.

“Commander?” he asks softly, earnestly.

You squeeze your eyes shut.

“I didn’t,” you admit, barely above a whisper.

Deafening silence, for a beat.

Two.

Three.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Braham says eventually. When you finally bring yourself to look at him again, his brows are furrowed in confusion. He stares at you in concern, scrutinizing. “You’re… definitely still alive.”

“I sure am.” Neither of you miss the tired bitterness that bleeds into your sarcasm. You wince and sigh, running a hand over your face. “I’m sorry, it’s just… It’s a long story.”

And to this day, you still haven’t told anyone all the details. You’re not sure if you ever will.

“Who knows?” Braham asks.

The question catches you off guard. “Uh, Rytlock, Canach, and Kas were there when it happened. Taimi… overheard.” You don’t know which is worse: being the one to hear you die, or finding your body after the fact.

They’re not the only ones who know, but they’re the only ones who matter. Even then, you swore them all to secrecy.

“Taimi called me around that time,” he says.

Your eyes widen. “Did she…?”

Braham shakes his head. “She was crying too hard,” he says, speaking slowly as he focuses on remembering. “She said something about you, but she couldn’t get the words out. When I tried to ask her what was wrong, she just hung up on me. Then she called me back a day later to say it was nothing and to pretend it never happened.”

“Huh,” you say, because you can’t think of anything else.

“I always wondered what she was trying to tell me,” Braham smiles sadly at you. “Guess I know now.”

You swallow hard. “You’re… taking this a lot better than I thought you would.”

“I’m not the one who died,” he shrugs, even as his hand comes up to brush across his chest absentmindedly.

But you know how it felt, you think, How I felt.

The thought hangs in the air, unspoken.

“Are you okay?” Braham asks after a while.

“Yeah,” you answer quickly, automatically, “I’m fine.”

He raises a disbelieving eyebrow. “Are you sure?” He looks pointedly down and you follow his gaze.

Your hands are shaking where they rest in your lap. Gritting your teeth, you clench them into fists. They don’t stop.

“I’m fine,” you repeat, more to yourself than anything. “I’m fine.”

The shaking travels up your arms until your shoulders are trembling as if under an invisible weight. This is so embarrassing, so humiliating. You’re pathetic. You-

You don’t resist when Braham pulls you into a warm embrace.

“It’s been years,” you mutter, blinking rapidly against the itchy heat behind your eyes. “I thought I’d be over it by now.”

“It always hits you when you least expect it,” Braham says quietly, “I’m sorry, Commander.”

The noise that comes out of you is somewhere between a laugh and a sob. You know he knows you hate pity, but this is the farthest thing from it. “When did you get so wise?” you tease.

“Learned it from you,” he says, voice tinged with pride, and now it’s your turn to flush. He squeezes you tightly once before letting you go. “Are you okay?” he asks again.

“Yeah,” you say, and this time you mean it. You breathe in deep, feeling lighter than you have in ages. “I’m okay. Thank you, Braham.”

“Glad to hear it,” he grins, and promptly shoves you right into the Scrying Pool.

His boisterous laughter echoes off the walls and drowns out your indignant spluttering. When you pull yourself out of the pool, drenched and dripping water everywhere, he scrambles to his feet and breaks into a dead sprint down the hall.

You chase after him, smiling, and leave your memories behind you.

#gw2 #guild wars 2 #gw2 fan submission #braham eirsson #pact commander #me finally posting another commander pov fic after three years: hiiii.... how yall doin....#anyway this fic has been rattling around in my noggin for eight months now. here u go take it from me #i will take a hammer and FIX the commander and braham dynamic #2k4s gc saw it firstttt #thank u pals for beta-reading ilu #if u enjoyed this fic! would u pls consider reblogging? :3c #my writing

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kingexpl0sionmurder · 4 years

Text

Sour Candy - Bakugou Katsuki

Author: @kingexpl0sionmurder Rating: 18+ (Smut) Words: 12,276 Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki/F!Reader (Aged up, characters are in college) Warnings: Language, smut, Shinsou is kind of a dick, I made Bakugou a fan of LotR alright?

AN: I have been writing this for 84 years. This is my first attempt at Bakugou. Please be gentle lol. Shout out to @unbreakablekiribaku for listening to me talk about this fic since FEBRUARY and @420bakubaby for being one of the first people to read this and then scream at me for stopping mid smut for like 2 months. Bakugou’s poor neck lmfao. xoxoxo Masterlist is here Buy me a Kofi?

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You sighed, resting your head on your folded arms at the table. You tuned out the chattering of the girls around you, Ashido and Hagakure giggling at something to your right.

“You okay, Y/N?” Uraraka shot you a concerned look from across the table, causing you to lift your head and gaze at her.

“Yeah, I’m just bored.” And lonely, but she didn’t need to know that. Your eyes fell back to the table in front of you.

“I think you just miss Shinsou.” Ashido’s tone was teasing and it caused you to roll your eyes a little. She hit the nail on the head, but it wasn’t him that you missed, not really. It was just the companionship. Sure, you had your girlfriends, but it wasn’t the same thing.

“I don’t miss him.”

“Did you break up?” Jirou leaned her face on her palm, raising her eyebrows and looking at you curiously.

You snorted. “We were never together. We just had an...arrangement.”

“He decided to focus on his training,” Ashido explained when you offered no further information. “They’ve decided to just be friends.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” Tsu reached out and patted your arm from her place on the other side of the table, beside Uraraka.

You offered her a smile, letting your gaze fall to your lap. You weren’t all that sad about it. There were no real feelings between you and Hitoshi, there never had been. You just had a good time together, letting off a little steam when things became too stressful. You were proud of him for focusing on getting stronger, especially after everything he’d gone through when you were back in UA and how hard he’d worked to get into the hero course, and you didn’t hold his decision against him.

“You need a new distraction!” Hagakure trilled excitedly, breaking you from your thoughts. “We just need to find you a new boy.”

“I don’t need a new boy.” You groaned, leaning back. “I can function without one.” Eyes closed, your lips pulled into a frown. “I don’t want to do the meaningless sex thing again.”

Ashido, who clearly had not been listening, craned her neck to look around the cafeteria where you were having lunch. “What about Kaminari?”

You rolled your eyes. “Ashido, come on. I don’t want-”

“Ooh yeah!” Hagakure continued. “He’s cute, right? Maybe a little pervy, but I bet he’s kinky!”

Jirou gave her a look. “Keep it down! Don’t let him hear you say that! He’d never shut up about it.”

“He’s too easy. All I’d have to do is look at him and he’d cum in his pants.” Your lips curled up into a smirk, shaking your head. Kaminari was cute and you’d been friends for a long time, but you didn’t think the two of you would work out. Plus, you weren’t interested in him like that.

The table burst into a fit of giggles. Yaoyorozu leaned over from your other side. “You want a challenge then? What about Todoroki?”

All eyes slid to the other side of the cafeteria where Todoroki sat, eating his soba with his chopsticks quietly, while Kirishima and Sero were laughing loudly over his head.

“He’s gorgeous, but he scares me a little bit. Strong and silent types aren’t my thing.” He was a little too...obtuse a lot of the time. Social cues went right over that boy’s head.

“So gorgeous…” Ashido sighed, slumping across the table. “Okay, what about Kiri? I could put in a good word.”

You decided to let your friends have their fun, playing along. It wasn’t their fault they didn’t know about the secret crush you’d been harboring on a certain boy.

“Shark boy is tempting. I’d let him do anything he wanted to me. Have you seen him without a shirt? And those pointy teeth…” You trailed off, gazing into the distance.

“Eijirou has two quirks; hardening, and respecting women. He would probably be too vanilla for you.” Hagakure was right, of course.

“You never know, though. I’d like to call him Red Daddy Riot at least once.” You said dreamily, earning loud laughter from the girls around you. Kirishima was hot and had a great personality, but in all seriousness, he was just a friend.

“Midoriya?” Tsu suggested.

Your eyes shot to Uraraka, instantly noticing the blush on her cheeks. “Nah, he’s off-limits.” You were one of the only ones who knew how Uraraka felt about Deku, and you weren’t about to do that to her, so you shut that idea down quickly.

You turned back to the table the guys were occupying, eyes wandering over each of them with feigned interest.

“I’ve got it!” Ashido was too excited, her loud voice commanding the attention of the room. She sunk back into her seat when a few people turned their heads in your table’s direction.

All of the girls around you leaned in to hear her better when she beckoned them closer. “Bakugou.” She said conspiratorially, wiggling her eyebrows at you.

“Do you think Y/N has a death wish?” Jirou huffed. “Ashido, that wasn’t a serious suggestion, was it?”

Uraraka winced, her pink cheeks getting ever pinker. “If you think Todoroki is scary, he’s nothing compared to Bakugou.”

Tsu, always the observant one, shook her head. “He’s not as mean as he makes himself out to be. He’s like sour candy.”

“Bitter on the outside, sweet on the inside?” Yaoyorozu was grinning, picking up on Tsu’s metaphor.

“If anyone could crack him, it’s you Y/N. You don’t put up with shit.” Ashido pressed on. “You’re strong too, and he’ll respect that. Plus, he’s nicer to you than he is to the rest of us.”

“That doesn’t mean much, cause he’s still kind of a dick to me.” You said. “But…” You glanced over to see Bakugou eating his sashimi with a permanent frown on his face. “If you think I’d let Kiri do whatever he wanted to me, then times that by a million, and that’s what I’d let Bakugou do.”

“I’d let him blow me up.” You could just picture Hagakure slumping over dramatically. “Those washboard abs, his bulging biceps…”

“You okay, Hagakure? Someone get the spray bottle.” Jirou’s eyes were alright with mirth, lips curled into a teasing smile.

“You think I should try?” You asked the table, your gaze still locked on the ash blonde across the room.

If you were being honest with yourself, Bakugou was the only boy that you could see yourself with. You’d been intrigued by him since your first year at UA, and had always wondered what it would be like to date him. You had given up on the idea of ever getting him to like you, knowing that getting close enough to him would be a daunting task. He had built walls around himself since day one, putting up an unapproachable front, and you’d always thought it would be impossible. And now, 4 years later, you were all attending the same hero college, and you felt like your chances to win his affections hadn’t gotten any better.

But, what was the harm in it?

“If anyone can do it, you can,” Tsu confirmed, breaking you from your reverie.

Ashido squealed, bouncing in her seat. “You two would be so cute!”

You turned to look across the room, catching a glimpse of bright amethyst eyes peering in your direction. Hitoshi smiled at you before turning his attention back to his friends, and you searched your heart for any feelings that you might have missed for him. When you came up with nothing, you knew you’d made your decision.

“Well, Ashido, I guess you better start thinking of ship names. Operation Bang Bakugou is in full effect, starting immediately.” You said finally, smiling at your friends.

They didn’t need to know how you felt about him, anyway. That was your secret motivation. You just hoped this didn’t blow up in your face.

---

Twenty-four hours later, you had made zero progress. The most you’d gotten was a heated glare from the explosive blonde when he’d caught you staring at him during one of the classes you shared. You were starting to think the whole thing was hopeless, but you couldn’t give up. Your mama didn’t raise no quitter.

You decided this was going to take some time and a lot of research. You started by observing Bakugou’s routine. It was fate that you’d been assigned to the same dormitory, along with the rest of your high school friends, so you would have plenty of opportunities to watch him without being creepy.

He got up insanely early every morning and went for a run, and then showered and ate breakfast. After his last class, he would do his homework and hang out with Kirishima and the rest of his squad before wandering off to bed around 8 pm, like a grandpa. On the weekends he would keep the same morning routine, and then would spend his afternoons in the gym unless someone was able to convince him to break his regimen and actually participate in a group activity, but it was rare and he would be grumpy about it the whole time.

You filed his relationship with Eijirou away for a moment of desperation. You wanted to try to do this all on your own if you could, but it was good to know that you might have an in if you needed it. For now, you were going to try to get Bakugou to talk to you.

You begrudgingly set your alarm for the ungodly hour of 5 am the night before you put your half-assed idea into motion. When it woke you up out of a nice dream you grumbled, dragging yourself to the bathroom to wash your face and fix your bed head. You dressed in your workout clothes and stumbled downstairs with your running shoes, your phone, and a pair of headphones shoved into the front pocket of your hoodie.

You sat down on the front steps to the dorm, lacing up your shoes and yawning.

“What are you doing here?”

Your head snapped up, eyes locking with Bakugou’s red ones as he stood behind you. You cleared your throat. “Hey, Bakugou. I was just getting ready to go for a run.”

His posture was stiff as always. “You don’t go for runs.”

“Not normally, no. But I think it’ll benefit me. I want to get faster.” You shrugged. “Are you going running too? Maybe we can run together?”

“Tch. You wouldn’t be able to keep up, princess.” He sat down and pulled on his shoes, no longer paying you any attention.

You didn’t want to push him, so you didn’t say anything, moving to the grass and sitting down so you could stretch. The morning was nice, a little chilly, but the breeze felt good and it was quiet. You felt his eyes on you but you ignored him, reaching out to touch your toes, flexing your feet. When you were satisfied, you stood, bending your knee and grabbing your foot to pull it back.

Bakugou was standing in front of you. “Just stay out of my way. I usually run towards the training grounds and then loop back around the dorms. It’s about two miles all the way around.”

You looked over at him, trying not to grin. “Yeah, okay. Thanks.”

“I’m not doing you any favors, don’t thank me.” He snapped. “Fucking Christ. Just shut up.”

Your eyes widened as he turned his back to you, reaching into his hoodie for his headphones and shoving them in his ears. He messed with his phone for a second, before turning around and glaring at you.

You followed his lead, shoving an earbud in one ear and turning on your music. When you put your phone away he grunted and started jogging in the direction of the training grounds, and you followed, keeping pace behind him.

It was nice, it felt good to get your blood pumping so early in the morning. The campus was deserted, no one was probably even awake at this hour. Bakugou was quiet, but you didn’t expect him to speak to you, let alone let you run with him, so you didn’t have any complaints. You took this as a win though, because he’d at least acknowledged your existence.

Your legs were burning about three-fourths of the way through but you pushed on, not wanting to seem weak in front of him. You assumed if you stopped or slowed, he wouldn’t wait for you, and you thought it might hurt your chances of getting to do this with him again.

Your discomfort must have been apparent, though, because he grunted and looked back at you. “Oi! What’s your problem?”

You shook your head. “I’m fine.”

“No you’re fucking not, you’re slowing and you’re not breathing right.” He slowed down a little. “You’re pushing yourself too much.”

Your legs ached, and you felt a stitch forming in your side.“I said I’m fine.”

“Stubborn fucking-“ He slowed further, back into a light jog. “Your body isn’t used to this. I shouldn’t have let you come with me.”

“You can go without me, Bakugou. I can handle myself.” You grumbled, hating that he was right.

He rolled his eyes. “I usually start slowing down now anyway.” He reached in his other hoodie pocket and pulled out a water bottle, shoving it at you. “Drink.”

You didn’t even have it in you to argue, taking the bottle from him and unscrewing the cap, drinking slowly from it. You handed it back to him, keeping your gaze set on your shoes. You could practically feel the anger radiating off of him as he jogged beside you. It looked like all you’d managed to do was piss him off further.

When you finally reached the dorms you threw yourself on the grass, your heart thudding hard in your chest and your muscles aching. You closed your eyes, waiting for your breathing to slow, vaguely aware of Bakugou sitting somewhere to your right.

“Hey, dumbass. Don’t forget to stretch.”

You opened one eye to peer over at him. “Mm. I know.” You sat up and sighed before you started stretching, knowing you’d be in pain later regardless.

Bakugou drank from the water bottle, and then tossed it at you, watching as it hit the ground beside you. “We’ll take a shorter path tomorrow and work you up to more.”

You stopped, looking at him with your jaw wide open. “What?”

“Don’t tell me you’re going to give up already, idiot.” He stood up. “I didn’t take you for a quitter.”

“I’m not!” You said quickly. “I just...I don’t want you to fuck up your routine for me.”

“Tch.” He glared at you, shoving his hands in his pockets. “You obviously need the help since you can’t even handle two miles. It pisses me off. So I’m going to make you my personal project.” He turned to walk inside. “Same time tomorrow. Don’t be late.”

You watched him go, your eyes wide. You couldn’t even believe this was happening. “Hey, Bakugou!”

He stopped, not bothering to turn and look at you. “What?”

“Thanks.”

His shoulders tensed. “Whatever.”

You kept your eyes on him as he disappeared into the building, letting out a breath you didn’t even realize you were holding when he was out of sight. “Well, fuck.”

—

“So what’s going on with you and Bakugou?” Ashido asked a few weeks later while you were sitting down to lunch again. “Any progress?”

There had been a little progress. Bakugou seemed to enjoy your company. It took you a few days to realize it, but he insulted you less. Like, he still called you an idiot and a dumbass, and occasionally he referred to you as ‘shitty woman’, but it wasn’t the same. It was like there was no anger behind his words.

“They go running together every morning now, didn’t you know that?” Hagakure‘s voice came from your right. If you could see her face you knew she’d be grinning widely.

Jirou gazed at you with her eyebrow cocked. “Interesting. He doesn’t let anyone run with him.”

“He does now.” You mumbled, looking down at your soba. “I kind of forced myself upon him. He’s taken me up as a charity case. But I’m getting better.”

“He’s such a hardass. He probably barks orders at you the whole time. I’m not sure it’d be worth it.” Ashido was concerned for you, and it made you smile. She was a good friend.

“He’s alright.” You glanced over at the boys’ table and caught him looking at you. His neck snapped forward when you caught his eye. “Actually, it’s going pretty well.”

“So when’s the wedding?” Tsu’s tone was light, and you knew she was making fun of you.

You snorted at her. “Okay, not /that/ well. Not yet at least.”

“Do you guys talk at all?” Yaoyorozu leaned on her elbow and blinked at you.

“I talk, he sort of listens? I don’t know. He doesn’t tell me to shut up, so that’s got to mean something, right?”

The second day you’d run together, you asked him what he was listening to, and he’d shoved one of his earbuds at you in response. It was some heavy metal band, and you understood maybe every three words due to the screaming and growling of the lead singer, but it was fitting for Bakugou. You ran the rest of the time listening to it together, and it was nice and kind of unexpected. The next day you’d given him one of your earbuds and he’d listened to your music choices. You were pretty sure that was the first time you’d heard him genuinely laugh at something, even if it was just because he heard the lyric “Tell the haters to suck my fucking cock”.

“It’s better than him blowing you up or something.” Uraraka mused, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“We’ll see. We’re going to study together later so…”

Ashido gaped at you. “What? He told us he couldn’t help us with the math homework. Kaminari asked him earlier and he said he had plans.”

“I’m the plans I guess?” You could feel the blush rising on your cheeks. “I’m meeting him in his room after dinner.”

“His room? Y/N, no one has seen his room except for Kirishima! This is big!” Jirou looked absolutely ecstatic for you.

“Shh! Not so loud!” You felt your face turning even redder. “Don’t ruin this for me.”

“You cracked him, Y/N.” Tsu looked almost proud of you, her smile lighting up her whole face.

“I never thought this would go anywhere! Good luck, Y/N! We’re rooting for you!” Hagakure giggled excitedly, and you felt her grab your arm and shake you.

The rest of the table nodded in agreement, offering you congratulations.

“Thanks, guys. I’m actually hella nervous.” You turned your attention back to your lunch.

“If how often he keeps looking over here is any indication, you don’t have anything to worry about,” Yaoyorozu elbowed you, a teasing tone in her voice.

You looked over to see him staring at you again. You smiled at him, and he just glared back, but it wasn’t the heated one you were used to. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.”

—

You were heading back to the dorms after your last class, your bag slung over your shoulder, lost in thought. You wondered what you should wear later, running through possible outfits in your head as you walked. If you dressed up too much Bakugou might get suspicious, and you were trying to keep things casual for now.

“Hey, kitten.”

Your head snapped up, meeting the sleepy purple gaze of Shinsou as he fell into step beside you.

“Hey, ‘Toshi. How’s your training going?”

He shrugged, amethyst eyes meeting yours. “It’s alright. I’m running myself ragged. But it’s good. It feels good, you know?”

You nodded, biting your bottom lip. You were happy for him. “I’m glad to hear that. You’ve always worked so hard, it’s going to pay off.”

Hitoshi lifted his hand to rub the back of his neck, his trademark move. “Yeah, maybe. How’re things with you?”

“Okay. I’ve been running in the mornings before class. I’m getting faster. I can do almost two miles in about 16 minutes.”

“Wow. That’s pretty good.” He looked impressed, his hands sliding into his pockets as you walked.

“I’ve got a pretty good teacher.” You said vaguely, not wanting to give him any more information.

“Oh yeah? Who?”

“Just, someone in my dorm. It’s not important.” You knew he’d be less than pleased. You didn’t care what he thought, you just wanted to avoid the inevitable badmouthing he was prone to when it came to Bakugou.

You turned your head, looking forward. Bakugou was standing in front of the dorms with Kirishima just ahead of you. He looked up and caught your eye, frowning when he saw Hitoshi walking beside you.

Shinsou followed your gaze. “You’re training with that asshat, aren’t you?” He looked mildly disgusted. “I’m surprised he hasn’t killed you yet.”

“He’s not that bad, you know that. He knows his shit.” Your brows furrowed. This was exactly what you’d been trying to avoid.

“Maybe so, but he’s also a giant douchebag.”

You stopped walking, tired of the conversation already. You knew him well enough to know that this wasn’t just a casual catch up, anyway. “You haven’t spoken to me in like a week, Hitoshi. What do you want?”

Shinsou raised his eyebrows. “Chill out, kitten. I just wanted to say hi. I missed you.” He reached out, his fingers trailing along your cheek.

You looked over when you heard yelling. Kirishima was calling after Bakugou, the fiery blonde storming away from him and inside the building. What was that about?

You jerked back from Hitoshi’s touch. “Nope. None of that. You’re the one who ended things with us, remember?”

“So we can't be friends? Wasn’t that the deal?”

Your frustration was apparent in your posture. “It was. But that’s not what you were thinking and we both know it.” You turned, walking backwards towards the building. “I’ve gotta go. I’ll see you later.”

His face pinched. “What’s your problem? Are you fucking him already? You don’t waste a second.”

You felt your anger bubbling up in the pit of your stomach. Turning around, you fixed him with a glare. “No, I’m not. Jealousy isn’t a good look on you, Shinsou. Fuck off.”

You spun back towards the dorms, your hands shaking as you stormed past Kirishima and slammed the front door open.

“Y/N, wait!”

You kept walking, ignoring the looks you were getting from the group that was sitting in the common area. You didn’t stop until you reached the elevator, jamming your finger against the button harder than necessary.

The sound of sneakers slapping against the floor had you spinning around. Kirishima was approaching, looking concerned. “Hey, you okay?”

“Fine.” You snapped, turning back to the elevator. “What’s up?”

“Oh! Well, I don’t know, it looked like you were fighting with Shinsou. I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

You felt bad for snapping at him. Eijirou was a good friend. “Yeah, sorry. I’m okay. He’s just a dick.”

Kiri chuckled, his sharp teeth on display. “Yeah, he kind of is.”

Changing the subject, you shrugged. “Is Bakugou okay? He looked mad. Like, madder than usual.” The elevator dinged and you entered it, moving aside so he could join you.

He pushed the button for your floor and then his. “Yeah, he’s fine. He’s just…”

“Being Bakugou?”

“Yeah, basically. You get it.” He reached up to touch his bright red spikes, before his gaze settled on your face, bright red eyes glinting conspiratorially. “What’s going on with you two anyway?”

You froze, panicking slightly. Was it that obvious? “What? Nothing.”

“Yeah, that’s what he says too. You can’t fool me though. I know for a fact that I’m the only person he can tolerate on a normal day, and he doesn’t let me go running with him.” He looked at you knowingly, raising an eyebrow.

You felt your cheeks heating up, imagining their color rivaled the hair on his head. “He’s just helping me train.”

Kiri sighed. “Just do me a favor and be nice to him. He’s my best bro.”

The elevator dinged again when it reached your floor. You stepped out and turned back to him. “Nothings going on, Kiri.” You repeated. “We’re just friends.”

So what if you wanted to be more? Kirishima didn’t need to know that.

“Sure. See you at dinner, Y/N.” He winked as the doors closed and left you standing in the hallway alone.

—

After dinner, you went to your room to grab your math textbook and your pencil case. You decided to put on your comfy clothes, slipping on your favorite pair of leggings and an oversized t-shirt, and throwing your hoodie on over it before you made your way to the elevator.

You stood in front of Bakugou’s door, taking a deep breath before knocking. You didn’t have to wait long, the door flying open moments later. “What do you want?”

You blinked at him, biting your lip. “We were supposed to study, remember?”

He frowned, his eyebrows scrunching together as he stared at you, his arms folded across his chest. “Thought you weren’t coming.” He was waiting for an answer. You raised your eyebrows at him in lieu of a reply, and he sighed, opening the door wider and letting you enter.

His room was neat, with an All Might poster on the wall above his desk. His bed was made, and he had a giant bookcase against the far wall filled with books. It was kind of fitting for him. You didn’t expect anything flashy, it was Bakugou after all.

“Why wouldn’t I come? We made plans.” You questioned him, shuffling over to sit on the bed.

“Tch.” He flopped into his desk chair. “Thought you’d be off with eyebags instead.”

You stared at him, confused. “Shinsou? No.”

“Weren’t you dating him?” He kept his gaze on the book in front of him, his shoulders tense, and fists clenched on the desk.

“No. Not really.” Was he jealous? Was that what that fit was about outside the dorms after class?

He didn’t say anything, and you could feel the tension in the air. If he was feeling jealous from seeing you with Hitoshi earlier, then maybe things were going better than you’d hoped. You knew you had to say something to fix this.

“Bakugou.”

He looked up, glaring at you like he usually did, his eyes filled with something else other than anger. Hurt?

“I’m not dating Shinsou. I’m not interested in him.” Putting your book down beside you, you leaned forward, your elbows on your knees. “We used to mess around but that’s over. We’re just friends.”

You couldn’t read his expression, but he almost looked relieved for a moment, before turning back to his desk. “You needed help with math?”

You nodded, getting comfortable and pulling out your book, flipping to the page you’d marked off, your notebook folded over to where you’d copied the questions. “I’m terrible at this stuff. My brain just can’t comprehend it.”

“Tch. It’s not that hard, princess.” He got up and sat beside you on the bed. “Gimme that.” He took your pencil and started writing, explaining the problem, and each step.

You were trying to pay attention, but you were kind of in awe of him. Katsuki Bakugou was the whole package; he was smart, strong, good looking. He gave a shit about people even if he was good at hiding it behind insults and a big ego. There was no doubt in your mind that he’d be at the top of your class again, and climbing the ranks to number one hero once you’d graduated.

“Are you even listening?” His rough voice startled you out of your thoughts.

“Sorry, yes.” You took back the pencil, working on the next problem, following the steps he’d given you. “Like that?”

He hummed. “Maybe you’re not as hopeless as I thought.” He looked kind of proud of you, and it made your heart flutter.

Thinking back to what you’d said to Shinsou earlier about him, you grinned. “I’ve got a good teacher.”

“Damn right you do. Finish the rest of them and I’ll check them over when you’re done.” He got up and moved back over to his desk, slouching down to read over his textbook.

You got to work, flying through the problems faster than you thought possible. Something about the way he’d explained it had clicked in your head, and it suddenly just made sense.

“Here.” You held out your notebook when you were done.

Bakugou looked surprised, but took the notebook from you and began checking them over.

You stood up, walking over to his bookshelf, and looking at his books. A lot of them were manga, some you’d actually read yourself. There were some fantasy novels, like Game of Thrones and Lord Of The Rings, graphic novels like Locke and Key and The Walking Dead. You had a lot more in common with him than you’d originally thought.

“You just need to fix this one. Make sure you show your work or sensei will mark you down.”

You turned back to him and smiled. “Thanks, Bakugou.” You took the notebook back and sat back on the bed, working on the problem Bakugou had instructed you to fix. “I didn’t know you liked Lord Of The Rings.” You were formulating a plan, and as usual, it was half-assed.

He grunted, turning the page in his book. “What about it?”

“You know they’re showing the extended version at the theater next weekend.” You chanced a glance up at him, surprised to see he was watching you.

“And?”

He was either completely dense or he wanted to make your life harder. You were leaning toward the latter. You bit back a sigh. “So, do you want to go with me?”

“What, like a date?” He huffed, folding his arms over his chest. You tried not the stare at his bulging biceps.

You finished your math problem, shoving your notebook back into the textbook and setting it aside, leaning forward again. “If you want.”

“Hah? You want to go on a date with me?” His eyebrows were furrowed, eyes squinting, like he was trying to figure you out.

This was going well. Not. “Yeah, I do.”

He clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “Aren’t guys supposed to ask girls on dates?”

“I mean, that’s kind of sexist, isn’t it? Does it matter who asks who?” Fuck, he was being an ass. You weren’t sure why, but you kept going. “Is that a yes?”

He seemed to be looking everywhere else but at you directly, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “No.”

Your face fell, and you felt the tears welling up in your eyes. Determined not to let him see you cry, knowing he’d see it as a weakness, you forced a smile on your face. “Okay. Thanks again for your help, Bakugou.”

You stood up, grabbing your book and your pencil, shoving it in the case and tucking it under your arm. You turned to the door, your heart aching. You thought you’d finally made some headway with him, but you were apparently wrong. This was an unmitigated disaster, and you couldn’t wait to crawl into your bed and never leave it again.

“Ugh, wait.”

You paused with your hand on the doorknob, turning to look at him. He stood up and walked up behind you, grabbing your arm lightly and pulling you towards him. You nearly dropped your book as your hand pressed against his chest to keep yourself from bumping into him. “What?”

“Go out with me next weekend.” He mumbled, his free hand moving up to push a piece of your hair away from your face.

You blinked up at him, lost in the intensity of his stare. Suddenly, it clicked. “You just wanted to be the one to ask, didn’t you?”

“Obviously.” He rolled his eyes. “Don’t be an idiot.”

“Are you prepared to sit in a dark theater with me for three and a half hours?” You felt lighter, confidence back up to 100 percent. Trying to ignore how close you were pressed against him, you smiled.

He snorted. “If I didn’t think I could handle it, I wouldn’t have asked. I don’t do things I don’t want to do.”

He was right, of course. “Yeah, okay. It’s a date.” You leaned up on your toes and kissed his cheek before you lost your nerve. “Goodnight, Bakugou. See you in the morning.”

“Call me Katsuki.”

Surprised, you just nodded. “Okay. Goodnight, Katsuki.”

You didn’t miss the pink blush on his cheeks when you pulled away, willing yourself not to look back at him as you turned around and opened the door, stepping out into the hallway.

Your night had gone better than you’d expected.

—

The rest of the week seemed to fly by, and the next thing you knew it was Saturday.

You woke up at your normal 5 am and met Bakugou downstairs to start your run. You sat together on the grass, giggling and kicking his foot when he stretched his leg out beside yours. “What time did you want to leave later?”

He hummed. “The movie starts at 4. Did you want to eat before or after?”

Looking up at him shyly, you blushed. “We’re going for food?”

“Tch, of course. It’s a date, isn’t it?” He raised an eyebrow at you quizzically, looking at you like you were the biggest idiot he’d ever met.

“Dinner and a movie? You’re really going all out, aren’t you, Katsuki?” Your heart swelled. You never imagined you’d get to this point with him.

He got to his feet, standing in front of you and folding his arms across his chest. “Keep it up and we won’t go at all.”

You squeaked. “I’m sorry!” You held out your arms and smiled when he grabbed your hands and pulled you up to stand. “After is good.”

He nodded, rolling his neck. “Fine.”

You started running, trying not to smile when you noticed that he was letting you run beside him instead of making sure he was ahead of you. There were small things that had changed between the two of you since you’d decided to put some effort into building a relationship with him, and it made your heart flutter.

“Are you excited about tonight?” You wondered if he was nervous. Did Bakugou even get nervous?

He half shrugged. “I guess.” You didn’t say anything and he seemed to realize his answer was too short. “I didn’t get to see the extended edition in the theater so I’m looking forward to that.”

“Yeah, me too.” You had missed out on it too. Feeling a little bold, you continued. “Plus, it’ll be great to hang out with you.”

“You hang out with me every day.” He pointed out gruffly, shaking his head.

He had a point, and you felt like you probably sounded like a loser. No turning back now. “Yeah, I know. But this is different.”

He was silent for a moment, and you looked back over at him to see him deep in thought. His eyebrows were furrowed and he was biting at his bottom lip. “Why do you like me?” He asked suddenly, and you almost tripped over your own feet in surprise.

“What?” You managed to keep yourself upright, keeping up with his pace. He was blushing slightly, and it was probably the single most adorable thing you’d ever seen.

He kept his eyes forward. “Shitty hair says I’m scary. I know I’m not the easiest person to get along with, but you still want to go out with me, so I was just trying to figure it out.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re not scary. People just don’t know how to approach you.” He scoffed and you continued. “I like you because you’re not a pushover. You don’t take anyone’s shit, you’re smart as hell. You’re going to be a great hero someday, Katsuki.”

“Ugh, shut up, you’re being sappy.” You saw the corner of his mouth twitch like he was trying not to smile.

“You asked! I’m just being honest.” You felt proud that you were able to get that reaction from him. “You know, I didn’t think you’d ever want to go out with me.”

His head snapped to the side, a scowl on his face. “Why wouldn’t I? You must be an idiot.”

“Hey!” You laughed. “Be nice to me.”

“I am being nice. I’m always nice to you, princess.”

You didn’t comment on how the nickname he’d given you since day one made heat race pleasantly through your veins.

“Your definition of nice is slightly skewed, but I’ll accept it, I guess.” You didn’t want to push him too much, but you were curious. “Why does that make me an idiot, though? You never acted as you would ever date anyone, so I didn’t think I’d ever have a chance.”

The two of you rounded the path by the training grounds and started heading back towards the dorms. “I didn’t expect to…” He trailed off. “Look, being the number one hero is my top fucking priority. I didn’t even want to make friends and then Shitty hair happened.”

You nodded. Kirishima was a ball of sunshine that no one could avoid. He just had this way about him.

“You’re the only one out of all those extras that ever had a chance, okay?” He snapped his mouth shut, scowling, and you decided to let him be. The last thing you wanted to do was piss him off.

“Okay.”

---

You finished your run, stretching and then heading back inside. You promised Bakugou you’d meet up with him around 2:30 so you had plenty of time to get to the theater.

After breakfast, you disappeared to your room for a while to knock out some dreaded weekend homework. Around noon you stood and stretched, deciding to take a shower and get ready for your date. You decided to wear a pair of black skinny jeans and booties with a cute top. Bakugou had mentioned wanting to take you out for ramen after, so you decided to keep your outfit casual but put together.

You met him in the common area a little after 2, ignoring the knowing grins on your friend’s faces as you left the dorm together, Bakugou’s hands shoved in his pockets, your hand looped through his arm.

You were walking down the main path in companionable silence, heading towards the road so Bakugou could call you an Uber to take you to the movies. Someone called out to you and you turned your head, your stomach dropping when you saw Shinsou making his way over. You glanced at Bakugou from the corner of your eye, noticing his tense posture and the frown on his face.

“What is it, Hitoshi? We were just leaving campus.” Your tone was clipped, not wanting to drag this out, since Bakugou was giving him a murderous glare.

He lifted his arm to rub the back of his neck as usual. “Sorry, Y/N, I just wanted to apologize for what I said the other day. It was kind of shitty of me.”

You let go of Bakugou, crossing your arms across your chest. “Yeah, I’ll say.” You weren’t about to forgive him, not wanting him to walk all over you. “Was that it?”

His eyebrows furrowed. “Are you not going to forgive me?”

Bakugou decided to speak up beside you. “Obviously she isn’t, eyebags. Are you done? We have somewhere to be.”

“Hey, I wasn’t talking to you, Bakugou.” Hitoshi snapped.

You watched as Katsuki lifted his right hand, his palm popping and sparking from his quirk. “Like I give a fuck? Fuck you, bastard!”

You grabbed his left arm. “Katsuki, don’t. He’s not worth it.” You looked back to Shinsou. “I’m not talking to you about this right now. We have to go.”

Hitoshi sneered. “Whatever, guess I was right, huh?” He turned around and started to walk away, turning his head to the side to throw a final insult over his shoulder. “Enjoy my sloppy seconds, Bakugou.”

It took an enormous amount of strength on your part to hold Bakugou back from running after the purple-haired boy. “I’ll fucking kill you, you fucking extra! Don’t fucking talk about her like that-”

“Katsuki, come on! It’s fine!” You tugged on his arm. “Let’s go.”

“It’s not fine!” He spat, but he let you pull him away, growling and snarling like a rabid dog.

You kept a firm grip on his arm until he stopped looking back toward the other boy and you were a safe distance away from the school. He busied himself with pulling out his phone to call your ride, but you saw he was still seething quietly as he did so.

He shoved his phone in his pocket when you got to the road, moving to the side of the campus entrance and leaning against the wall. “What was he apologizing for?”

You looked away from him, knowing if you didn’t tell him he’d be preoccupied with it all night. You didn’t want to ruin the date but you knew how much he appreciated honesty, so you told him. “He insinuated that I was fucking you, and he basically called me a slut for moving on from him so quickly.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, and you were afraid to meet his eyes. You were startled when he grabbed your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. “He’s a piece of shit, and I will gladly end his life if you want me to.” His red eyes were blazing, and you knew he was fully ready to make good on his threat if you said the word.

You looked up at him, a small smile on your lips. “I appreciate that, but it’s okay.” Your heart was in your throat, and you felt your eyes watering. You knew Hitoshi was just being a jealous prick, but it still hurt your feelings.

“Fuck him. Don’t let him get to you.”

“I know, I won’t.” Somehow, Bakugou’s words made you feel better. “Can we just forget about him? I don’t want that to ruin our night. We have a date with some hobbits.”

He snorted. “Yeah, okay.” If he noticed your tears, he didn’t say anything. The Uber pulled up behind you and he pushed off the wall, his hand still gripping yours. “Come on, princess.”

—

It was nearly 9:30 by the time you got back to the dorms. You walked up the path from the road with Bakugou’s arm around your waist, your body pressed into his side while you walked.

You’d had a really good time despite the rocky start to your evening, thanks to Shinsou. But Katsuki had let it go, and you appreciated that he hadn’t let the purple-haired boy ruin your night.

The movie had been great, and you’d been surprised when Bakugou had lifted the armrest between your seats and dragged you closer to him, letting you lean against him with his arm around your shoulder as you shared popcorn. You’d been half distracted by his warm palm against your arm, his fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns on your skin through the whole film.

You welcomed this new development, the feeling of his hand on your skin was comforting. It was a distinct contrast from his normal personality, and it made you soft for him. You never thought you’d see this side of him, and you were not complaining.

After the movie, he’d taken you out for ramen as promised, and you’d giggled at him when he ordered his extra spicy, and he teased you when you got yours without any spice. You got to know more about each other, quietly swooning over the smirk on his face when he made you laugh.

Now you were back at school and dreading the moment you had to say good night. You didn’t want it to end.

“Do you...want to come back to my room?” His cheeks were dusted pink, and he almost looked shy. “I don’t want to go to bed yet.”

“Isn’t it past your bedtime?” You teased.

He growled. “Shut up, dumbass. Nevermind then.”

“No! No, I’m sorry, I was just kidding. I want to. I was just thinking about how I didn’t want the night to be over.” You leaned your head on his shoulder.

“Me either.” His voice was so quiet you almost didn’t hear it.

“What did you want to do?” You had a few ideas, and none of them were SFW.

He just grinned, holding the door open for you when you reached the dorm building. You walked into the common room, the both of you stopping to kick off your shoes. You looked up as everyone sitting on the couch turned their attention to the both of you.

Before they could start bombarding you with questions, Bakugou grabbed your hand. “Come on.” He started pulling you towards the elevators, ignoring Ashido yelling and whining from her spot on the couch.

“Sorry guys! We’ll talk later!” You called over your shoulder, nearly falling over when Bakugou tugged on your arm and pulled you into the open elevator.

You braced yourself on his shoulders, looking up at him slowly as the door behind you closed. Your heart was jackhammering in your chest at your close proximity, and the warmth of his hands on your waist as he held you close made you dizzy. You licked your lips subconsciously, the nerves that had been simmering inside you nearly boiling over as you wondered if he was going to kiss you.

His cheeks were ruddy as he gazed at you, his fingers flexing against your hips. The dinging of the elevator reaching his floor ruined the moment, and he was pulling away from you too soon, clearing his throat. His fingers intertwined with yours again as you followed him out into the hallway, hoping that you could get back to what you were doing once you were in the safety of his bedroom.

When the door clicked shut behind him, you watched him fidget around the room, pulling his desk chair near the bed and opening up his laptop, sitting it on the seat. He sat on the edge of the mattress and looked up at you. “Are you going to stand there all night, or are you going to come over here?”

You moved over, sitting beside him, watching as he pressed the play button on some animated movie. “Is this Studio Ghibli?”

He grunted. “Background noise.”

You blushed when you realized he didn’t plan on actually watching it. You met his eyes, feeling a chill roll down your spine when he smirked at you. The mood had shifted so suddenly, and it felt like he was less of the soft and hesitant boy at the movies, and more like the Bakugou you knew.

You weren’t complaining.

“Now, where were we?” His hands moved to your waist, tugging you forward. You rearranged your legs to straddle his lap, your back facing his laptop, your arms hanging over his shoulders.

You felt his warm breath, his nose trailing along your jaw. “Katsuki…”

“Hah?” He asked, his grip on your hips tightening. “Were you going to let me kiss you in the elevator?”

You hummed, nodding. The anticipation was killing you, and it was apparent that he could tell. You let your eyes flutter shut, licking your lips, waiting for him to do something.

You heard him chuckle, your hips rocking slightly against his lap causing the sound to be cut short as he sucked in a breath. “Impatient, huh princess?”

His usual nickname for you sent a shiver through you. “Katsuki, please.”

“Fuck, don’t beg. You don’t know what that does to me.” His lips were on yours before you could reply, needy and insistent.

Kissing Bakugou was just what you’d always imagined it would be. He didn’t do anything half-assed, so you weren’t surprised by the passion behind it. Being this close to him was exhilarating. You could smell the faint scent of caramel on him when you breathed in, tilting your head slightly as he ran his tongue along your bottom lip. Your lips parted and he groaned, licking into your mouth as your hips rolled down against him again.

He pulled away, the two of you breathless. He didn’t go far, his lips trailing down your jaw and to your neck, nipping lightly as he went. You sighed when his hands moved from your hips, fingers drifting under the hem of your shirt and trailing lightly up your sides. You let your hands move to his hair, nails scratching lightly along his scalp and tugging at his soft locks as his teeth worried at the place where your neck and shoulder met.

When he was satisfied with the blooming bruise on your skin, he pulled away to look you in the eye. Vermillion met Y/E/C with his usual serious expression. “I want you to know that I’m not just fucking around with you, you got that?”

Your eyes widened. “I-”

“No, listen to me, idiot. I don’t give a fuck about eyebags and his bullshit. I don’t want you to think I think like that bastard, understand?” His brows were furrowed and his voice was rough in a way that usually made your thighs clench.

You ran your fingers through his hair again, pressing a little closer on his lap. “I know, Katsuki.”

His eyes fluttered closed and his hands settled on your hips when you scratched along his scalp before they snapped open again. “Good. Because if we do this, I’m not letting you go.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” You assured him. Your heart was pounding and you couldn’t keep the smile off your face.

“If that purple-haired freak even looks at you again, I’m going to rip off his fucking face and feed it to Hound Dog.” His palms slid to settle on your ass, squeezing and pulling you to rock against the hardening bulge in his jeans.

You moaned softly, nodding again. You were so turned on you felt like you were going to come apart, and he’d barely even touched you. You briefly wondered if you had a voice kink, cause just listening to him talk was doing things to you.

Sensing he was done talking, you leaned back slightly, grabbing the hem of your shirt and pulling it up and over your head, tossing the garment somewhere behind you. His eyes were glazed over with lust as he looked down at your bra covered chest. He dipped his head forward, tongue tracing the lace of the cup over the swell of your breast. You reached behind you and undid the clasp, gasping when he grabbed the offending object and pulled it down your arms and threw it aside.

A blush rose over your body as he gazed at you hungrily, but your embarrassment was short-lived, immediately replaced with pleasure. He left a wet trail of kisses across the top of your breasts, his tongue laving over your nipple, hot breath turning cool as he blew over the hardening bud. You were panting, grinding rhythmically in his lap, seeking friction as he showered your chest with attention, switching to the other breast and giving it the same treatment.

You pulled him up to kiss you again, hands moving to his back to grasp his t-shirt and tug on it. He got the hint, breaking the kiss to remove his shirt. You let your eyes drift over the absolute work of art that was his body, fingers trailing over his defined shoulders and biceps, and then back up across his collarbone. You leaned over to kiss along his neck, your nails trailing down his pecs and over his nipples, earning a low growl from the ash blonde.

Strong arms moved around your waist as he picked you up off his lap and moved you over to lay down on the bed. He was hovering over you in a second, his forearms resting by your head as his lips met yours again, kissing and biting on your bottom lip. You keened, arching up into him, your hands in his hair and sliding down to the back of his neck to pull him closer.

His lips trailed away from yours, down your neck and chest, his hands moving as he slid down your body, his fingers deftly popping open the button on your jeans. He settled between your legs on his knees, pulling your skinny jean down your hips and thighs. You lifted your legs to help him, shivering when the cool temperature of the room settled over your bare skin.

Fingers smoothed their way up your calf, his warm hands slid up the inside of your thighs. Your breath hitched when he spread your legs wider, tracing one finger over your clothed slit. The look in his eyes was positively feral when they met yours. “You’re fucking beautiful, you know that?”

You sat up in response, hands moving to unbuckle his belt and unbutton his jeans. “And you’re wearing too many clothes, Katsuki.” You grinned up at him cheekily, making him chuckle.

He rolled his eyes, shuffling back off the bed to pull his jeans down his legs. Your gaze trailed over muscled thighs covered in light blonde hair, the black boxer briefs that hugged his thin waist, and the noticeable bulge of his cock that had your mouth watering.

He was back on you in a second, pressing you back against the mattress, lips ghosting over your heated skin as he ground his hips against yours. You moaned quietly, committing every touch to memory.

“You don’t know how long I’ve thought about this.” He murmured against your neck. When he pulled back to look down at you, his cheeks were pink with embarrassment at the confession. “Too fucking long.”

“Me too.” You didn’t want to say more, afraid too many words would ruin the moment.

His hand slid down, fingers trailing over the elastic band of your panties, before slipping underneath them. The calloused pads of his digits dipped through your folds, brushing over your clit and making you whine, back arching again.

“Fuck, you’re wet, princess.” His forehead rested on your shoulder, and you felt him shiver against you. “I’m gonna make you feel so good.”

You didn’t doubt him for a second, your breath hitching when he moved his fingers lower, pressing one into your entrance. The digit curled inside you, and you clenched around it, your body craving more. He thrust in and out a few times, adding a second finger, his teeth sinking into your clavicle when you keened at the feeling.

You felt like you were on fire, Bakugou’s warm breath ghosting over your skin as his fingers worked you over, his thumb pressing against your clit. You let the fingers of your left hand trail along his back, feeling his muscles ripple underneath your touch. Your right hand let go of the death grip you had on his sheets, crossing over your body to trace your fingers along the elastic band of his briefs, dangerously close to sliding underneath.

Lifting his face from your neck, he licked his lips and removed his hand from your panties. You whined at the loss, pussy clenching around nothing. You pouted up at him, watching as he positioned himself between your thighs again, tugging your panties down and off. Warm palms slid up the outside of your legs, gripping your ass and lifting your lower half off the bed.

He leaned forward, kissing up the soft skin of your inner thigh, teeth nibbling as he went. Your breathing was shallow, anticipation crawling through you, and you shut your eyes, waiting for what you knew was coming next.

His tongue licked a stripe from your entrance to your clit, and you moaned, body arching from the bed. He hummed as he repeated the motion, the lewd sounds of slurping filling the room, nearly drowning out your gasps and the sound of the movie still playing on his laptop beside you. He kept you lifted up with one hand, the other snaking between your legs, his fingers finding their home inside you as he sucked on your bundle of nerves.

“Katsuki, fuck.” Panting, your hand moving to rest on the back of his head, your hips rolling into his face as you climbed higher and higher towards your impending release. You felt him smile against you, two fingers leaving you, replaced by three. He expertly scissored them, stretching you out, your body sucking him in deeper as you gushed around his digits.

“Gonna cum for me?” He peered up at you from between your legs. His voice was wrecked already, your eyes rolling back at the sound. You managed to nod meekly, tugging on his hair and trying to get him back to where you needed him most.

He complied, sucking on your clit hard, pushing you over the edge. You cried out, body shaking in his hold and stars exploding behind your eyelids, his tongue flicking over you again and again, helping you ride out your orgasm.

When you’d calmed, he pulled back, kissing your inner thighs again, waiting for you to catch your breath. He lowered you back down slowly, rubbing his hands up and down your legs. You opened your eyes, grinning up at him lazily.

“You good?” His arm came up to wipe the wetness from his mouth and chin, a smirk on his lips when you nodded.

You cleared your throat. “So good.” You sat up on your elbows, watching him stand again and shove his briefs down his legs. Your eyes widened slightly at his size, appreciating his body quietly. He was an adonis, and you wanted to trace over every inch of his body with your fingers and tongue.

He didn’t give you a chance, crawling back towards you. You spread your legs wider to accommodate him. “Do I need to grab a condom?”

“I’m on the pill.” You appreciated him asking, most guys would have just gone for it, thinking that this type of conversation was a mood killer. “Don’t worry.”

“Oh, thank god.” Palms flat against the pillow beside your head, he bent forward and kissed you. You could still taste yourself on his lips, your hand cupping the back of his neck to pull him closer. You were practically vibrating, needing more of him, knowing you’d probably never get enough.

Leaning his weight on one hand, he sat back and used the other to guide himself to your entrance. Your hips rocked up toward him, impatient to feel him filling you up once more. He slid inside you slowly, letting your body get acclimated to his size. He was huge, but the stretch was delicious, burning pain giving way to pleasure as he pushed himself deeper.

Your nails dug into his shoulders when he settled over you again, your breathing ragged as you closed your eyes. He was petting your hair soothingly, moving slowly, his lips trailing along your jaw. When he bottomed out inside of you he paused, and you knew he was waiting for you.

Taking a deep breath, you wiggled your hips, clenching around him. He made a punched out noise when you did, his hand rubbing along your side freezing. He was being so patient with you, but you were ready. “Suki, move. Please.”

With one hand on your hip for leverage, he pulled back, thrusting forward in one fluid motion until he was filling you again, his pace slow and steady. Every time his hips met yours you mewled, overwhelmed with the feeling of his cock pulsing inside you. He was muttering curses against your lips, his hand in your hair, thumb pressed against the side of your neck.

The scent of burnt sugar wafted over you, and you readjusted your legs higher around his waist, the new angle causing him to grunt. He felt so good, so warm, your body was alight and you were desperate for more.

Your moans and mumbled pleas of faster and harder were answered with a smirk, the boy between your thighs raising himself up to his knees and lifting one of your legs onto his shoulder. Large hands held your hips firmly in place as he slammed himself inside, tip kissing your cervix as you arched up in pleasure. He picked up speed, the sound of skin slapping skin filling your ears as you bit down on your bottom lip, focusing on the feeling of him filling you up just like you’d always wanted.

“Fuck Princess, you’re so tight.” He turned his head to kiss your calf, and you couldn’t help but purr at how attractive he looked in that moment, skin shining with perspiration as he fucked into you. “Taking my cock so well.”

“Katsuki, shit, you feel so good.” Your hands slid over your own body, fingers tweaking at your nipples. He was watching you intently, his tongue darting out to lick along his plush pink lips. He adjusted your leg, pushing it up and toward you so he could lean down and press his lips to yours. You breath mingled when he pulled back to brush his nose against yours. “Hey, let me ride you.”

He stopped moving, lips curling into a smirk. “Hah? You want to be on top, princess?”

Humming, you moved your leg back to the bed, leaning up on your elbows. He slid out of you, moving to lay beside you. You willed your body to move, your legs shaking as you threw one over him and hoisted yourself up to straddle his hips. Wasting no time, you gripped his cock, lifting onto your knees and lining him up, sliding down on his length. His hands gripped your hips, your palms resting on his abs as you rocked forward. You moaned in tandem, doing your best to rut against him, alternating with lifting yourself slightly and rocking, dragging your nails from his stomach and up his chest, leaving red lines across his tanned skin.

Katsuki threw his head back, eyes closed, his bottom lip between his teeth. He looked so pretty like this, his skin flushed and chest heaving, hair mussed from your hands running through it. You leaned forward, dragging your lips along his sharp jaw, breathing in the scent of caramel. Briefly, you wondered how angry he would be if you left a mark on his neck where everyone else could see it.

He chose that moment to tighten his hands around your hips, holding you steady as he bucked up into you, forcing you to sit up, your back arching in pleasure. The muscles in your legs burned from exertion, but you kept moving, bouncing on his cock and clenching around him. You knew you’d be sore the next day but felt too good to stop.

One of his hands moved from your hip, fingers trailing across your skin to dip between your thighs, one calloused finger pressing against your clit. Gasping, you moaned his name lowly, your head falling back as you felt your body preparing to throw you over the edge again. “Oh fuck, I’m close.” Voice trembling, you held your breath, letting your eyes close.

He sat up suddenly, his fingers moving faster, his chest pressed against yours. Your hands traveled up and over his shoulders, fingers carding through his soft hair as he pressed kisses to your collarbones. His breath was warm as he spoke, his rough voice as he whispered into your ear, coaxing you over the edge.

You clenched around him, eyes rolling back as you came, his hands gasping your hips as he slammed up into you, chasing his high. Your toes curled as you rode out your orgasm, nails digging into the pale flesh of his back as you tried to keep yourself tethered to him, feeling as though you might float away, his name shuddering from your parted lips.

Groaning lowly in your ear, he came right after, hips stuttering, his head falling to press against your shoulder. Your heart was slamming in your ribcage, breathing labored and skin sticky with sweat, but you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling. Bakugou’s hands were rubbing your back absently, his lips pressing kisses against your neck.

Lying back with you still in his arms, you giggled quietly, moving yourself off to lie beside him, thighs aching and sticky with the mixture of your release. You watched him, studying the flush on his cheeks, the tiny freckles dotted across his nose that you’d never noticed before, never getting the chance to be close enough to see them.

His tongue peeked out to wet his lips as he brought his hand up to push a piece of unruly hair away from your face. “You okay?”

You hummed, nodding. “Better than okay.” Your eyes fluttered shut as his thumb brushed over your cheek, fingers tucked in the hair behind your ear as he pulled you towards him to kiss your lips.

“Stay here tonight?” His voice was raspy when he asked, bottom lip tucked between his teeth. He looked so soft and vulnerable at that moment, almost like he was afraid you would say no.

Katsuki Bakugou was never timid or quiet or afraid of anything. You worried for a moment you might have broken him. Too tired to move or tease him, you smiled. “I told you I wasn’t going anywhere, Katsuki.”

---

Lunch was, once again, a rowdy affair. The girls sat around you, as usual, chattering and laughing. Everything was normal. Everything except for the fact that Ashido was staring you down, her elbow on the table, hand propping up her head.

You looked up from the math homework you were desperately trying to finish, meeting her eyes. “Is there something on my face, Ashido?”

“No, I’m just trying to figure it out.” She replied, looking at you incredulously.

Puzzled, you frowned. “Figure what out?”

“How you did it.”

Before you could ask her what she meant by that, you felt a warm palm on your shoulder, and you turned to look into the ruby eyes of your boyfriend. He was holding out a bento box to you, his mouth in a tight line.

“Oh, thanks, Katsu. You didn’t have to.” You smiled up at him, taking the food from his outstretched hand.

“Don’t skip lunch, idiot. Eat it.” One of his eyebrows raised, as if daring you to challenge him.

You were hungry, so you didn’t, just nodding at him. He grunted and ruffled your hair before turning and walking towards his regular table, plopping down next to Kirishima and opening his own bento.

Moving your homework aside, you pulled the chopsticks off the top where he’d taped them to the lid and opened it, smiling down at the homemade meal.

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about!” Ashido cried, and you looked up to see her wide-eyed, pointing at your food. “Since when does Bakugou do anything remotely like that for anyone?”

Hagakure squealed. “It’s so cute! Did he make it himself?”

Nodding, you shoveled some rice into your mouth. He was such a good cook, everything he made was always delicious, and it was definitely a perk of dating him.

“Well, Ashido, when you’re dating someone, it’s not uncommon for them to bring you gifts.” Jirou chuckled, elbowing her friend. “They’ve been together for a few weeks now.”

“She called him Katsu…” Ashido continued. “Anyone else would have gotten a Howitzer to the face!”

Furrowing your brows, you blinked at her. “He’s my boyfriend, Ashido.”

Throwing her head back, she groaned. “I know I’m just saying, it’s so weird to see him acting so...domestic. I’m just wondering if you have like...a magic pussy or something.”

The entire table grew silent, the group of you staring at her in disbelief.

“What did I just walk into?” A deep voice questioned behind you.

Turning in your seat, you saw Shinsou standing there, his hands in his pockets and his eyebrows raised. “Shinsou…”

“Can we talk for a second?” He looked nervous, and a little guilty. You cleared your throat, nodding as you stood up.

You could feel eyes on you from across the room, so you turned and looked over at Katsuki. He was standing up at his place at the table, brow furrowed and fists clenched at his sides. Kirishima was looking from him to you worriedly, his hand on your boyfriend’s forearm. Locking eyes with Katsuki, you smiled at him, shaking your head, mouthing at him that it was okay.

He didn’t look happy, but you watched as he sat back down, his glare trained on the purple-haired boy waiting to speak with you. You led Shinsou over to lean on the wall away from everyone, glancing up at him and waiting for him to speak.

“Look, Y/N, I just wanted to apologize to you again. I know my last attempt was kind of negated by what I said to Bakugou afterward and I feel like an asshole. You didn’t deserve that.” He slumped against the wall and sighed. “You and I were always friends before any of that other stuff, and I don’t want to lose that.”

You blinked up at him, biting your lip in thought. He was right, you had always been great friends, even before you started sleeping together. You knew he hadn’t meant what he said, but it still hurt you, and you didn’t know how to go back to the way it had been before. “I don’t know, Hitoshi.”

His brows furrowed when you used his real name. “Hey, listen. I’ll do whatever it takes. You just...take all the time you need. I’ll be here when you’re ready, okay?”

“I appreciate you apologizing, though. I accept it, I’m just not sure what to do from here. Our relationship has always been a little unconventional, and I’ve got Bakugou now…” Your gaze cut over to your boyfriend, his eyes still glued to Shinsou, a scowl on his face.

“I’m surprised he didn’t leap over the table and attack me when I came up to you.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “He’s kind of...feral.”

Snorting, you shook your head. “He trusts me. He’s not a bad guy, I tried to tell you.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ll see you later then, Kitten. You know my number.” He smiled at you, bumping his shoulder against yours before walking away.

Letting out a breath you didn’t know you were holding, you walked back over to your table and sat down, picking up your chopsticks again.

“Man, who is that pod person sitting there pretending to be Bakugou?” Ashido continued her rant from earlier, Shinsou’s visit and Bakugou’s subdued reaction adding more ammunition to her argument. “Normally he would have shoved his foot in Todoroki’s cold soba trying to get his hands on Shinsou.”

Shrugging, you glanced up at her, and then over to Katsuki, who was eating his rice moodily, his forehead creased. “He knows I can take care of myself.”

“I swear to god,” Ashido sighed. “Aliens.”

She decided to leave it at that, the rest of your table giggling at her. You knew she was right though, Katsuki normally would have made good on his promise to rip off Hitoshi’s face. You had spoken to him about it a few nights before, however, and he respected your wish to handle it yourself. Even if he did grumble about it afterward.

When you’d finished your lunch, you packed up the bento in your bag along with the math homework you were never going to finish and stood up. Saying goodbye to your friends, you walked over to the boy’s table, leaning on the end of it. “Gentlemen.”

Todoroki nodded at you over his soba, slurping up the noodles on his chopsticks.

“Y/N, baby, how are you?” Kaminari asked, wiggling his eyebrows. You rolled your eyes, smiling when you saw him jolt, hissing in pain, and slumping over. “Bakubro, that was my shin!”

“Serves you right,” Your explosive blonde grumbled, crossing his arms across his chest. “Show some respect, dunce face.”

“Yeah, you can’t hit on her anymore, dude.” Sero pointed out before he turned back to you and smiled. “Hi, Y/N.”

Kirishima grinned at you. “Bakugou, that’s so manly. Defending your girl’s honor.”

“Tch.” Katsuki stood up, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and ignoring his friends. He turned his attention to you. “Did you finish your math?”

Smiling sheepishly, you grabbed his hand. “Nope. Come help me?”

He let out an exasperated sigh, his arm sliding around your waist as you walked together. “Maybe.” Smirking down at you, his fingers squeezed your hip. “What’s in it for me?”

“My endless love and affection?” You pouted, batting your lashes up at him.

He shook his head. “I have that anyways, don’t I, Princess?”

You didn’t want to admit it, but he was right.

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tennessoui · 3 years

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So I love your keeping up with the Skywalker/Kenobis au😍!!! It's adorable and it makes me so happy to read aaaand I wanted to ask what you think Satine's reaction is to Obi Wan basically getting himself a husband two kids and a dog like 2 months after she's left him? Like if they randomly ran into each other and Obi Wan is with his whole family and is carrying Leia, while holding Luke's hand and Luke is holding the dogs leash, while Anakin is I dunno monologing about something as he usually does

hi!!!! thank you so much for the prompt i love it <3 I thought a really long time about this prompt because I kind of knew what I wanted to do but I also didn't want to throw satine's character under the bus to accomplish it because i think from what Obi-Wan's told us about his marriage she's completely justified to want a divorce, so she's not necessarily a jealous ex in this snippet. But she's sort of angry, which i feel is fair!! i also (for reasons we will hopefully see tomorrow) changed your 'two months' to '3 years', so this happens 2 years after the Skywalkers move in, which is one yearish after the divorce! mostly because Something Else happens about 2 years after the Skywalkers move in and I have an ask cooling in my inbox asking about That that i want to answer tomorrow and these two felt like they fit together

(big sigh)(2.5k)(this is Obi-Wan's POV so its a bit pretentious and also a bit sad)

It’s a very strange thing, what the body remembers but the mind forgets.

“Obi-Wan?” A tentative voice asks from his left, and he knows that voice intimately. That voice had been at one time the most beautiful sound in the entire world. That voice had been what he heard before going to sleep, what he waited on tenterhooks to hear upon waking. He’d heard that voice cry, scream, laugh, gasp, moan--he knows that voice, and for a second his body responds the way it always has to that voice.

Butterflies erupt in his stomach and he turns to look at Satine for the first time in almost three years.

“Satine,” he says and clears his throat and tries again. “Hello there.”

She smiles delicately, as if she’s unsure of her welcome. Obi-Wan’s never seen Satine shy, but he supposes he’s never seen how she acts around her ex-husband.

He surreptitiously glances to where Anakin and the twins are standing in line at an ice cream truck. It had been a nice day, so they had bundled the kids and the dog into Anakin’s car and gone to the city park with loose ideas about kite flying. Perhaps a picnic.

Perhaps twenty yards from the parking lot, Leia had spotted an ice cream truck from her perch on Obi-Wan’s shoulders, and the twins had successfully convinced Anakin to make a quick pit stop on their way up the park’s central hill. It had been a very easy sell. The sweet tooth is most definitely inherited, and nothing Obi-Wan really shares, so he had taken Chewie and gone to sit on a near park bench, graciously pretending not to hear Anakin tell his children to let the old man rest.

That had only been five minutes ago.

“Would you like to sit?” Obi-Wan asks politely, gesturing to the part of the bench he’s not taking up.

“If you have the time,” Satine responds just as politely. Obi-Wan wonders if this sort of false veneer of courteousness is putting her teeth on edge as much as his.

Do you remember how you left? Would you like me to recall the amount of things thrown by you, or would you like to do the honors? He imagines saying.

Only if you would be so gracious as to recite the long list of things you called me, he can imagine Satine responding.

That sort of conversation would be better than this. More honest. It’s a strange hurt, to realize you’re lying to the person you used to think you’d always be truthful to.

“Oh,” Satine says when Chewie immediately starts sniffing at the hem of her dress. “Is this...your dog?”

Obi-Wan fights the urge to wince. He had. Well. He had been quite against getting a dog when they’d been married. Or a cat. Or anything, really. He had vehemently protested the idea of a pet.

Of another living thing in their house.

“Ah,” he says. “Yes. His name is Chewie.”

Satine pets him with just the right amount of pressure to have Chewie tilting his head eagerly for more. “Chewie?” she asks incredulously. “I always figured we would have to name any dog or--child after some sort of literary figure.”

Obi-Wan pretends he doesn’t notice her hesitation. He has to pretend he doesn’t notice her hesitation. “I originally wanted to name him Dante,” he admits instead. “Leia compromised down to Danny, but I just couldn’t do that to the poor dead man.”

“Oh,” Satine says and then she’s quiet. Obi-Wan can just imagine the sort of things running through her head. He would deserve all the mean-spirited barbs she could throw at him now. He reminds himself that he understands that.

I hadn’t thought you knew how to do that, he imagines her saying. Compromising, I mean.

Or, does the dog hair everywhere drive you as crazy as you used to say it would?

Or, perhaps worst of all, how much has your library of dead mean kept you comfort these last three years?

Instead she gently strokes the dog’s head and refuses to make eye contact with Obi-Wan.

“You look well,” he says, breaking the silence first. He thinks she’s probably put in enough work in speaking first for a lifetime.

“Thank you,” Satine responds, tucking a piece of her ash blonde hair behind her ear. Obi-Wan catches a glint of a ring on her finger from the action. He doesn’t know if it was purposeful or not, doesn’t blame her either way. It’s been three years. Their lives are their own now. There’s always going to be those years where they...converged, and Obi-Wan isn’t sure he regrets them. He might never regret them, no matter what he thought shortly after the papers were mailed in.

After all, he’d never have met the Skywalkers if it wasn’t for the divorce.

“You as well,” Satine says, crossing her ankles. It’s her version of a fidget, Obi-Wan thinks fondly, and then wonders if he’ll ever forget that sort of information.

He smiles. “Yes, I’m...well.” He coughs and glances over to the ice cream truck. Leia waves at him from where she’s curled into Anakin’s chest, very near the front of the line. Anakin and Luke are looking at Obi-Wan with almost the same expression of pinched worry. Anakin most probably because he knows who Satine is. Luke because the boy has gotten quite possessive of Obi-Wan’s attention in the last few months.

Obi-Wan smiles slightly to let them both know that he’s fine. “I’m very well,” he tells Satine, turning back to her.

“I’m very glad to hear that,” she says, and it sounds like the most honest thing she’s said this entire time.

“Thank you,” he responds, and that’s the most honest thing he’s said today too. He knows she won’t understand exactly what he means, but it feels nice to say it anyway. Thank you for the years we were happy. Thank you for leaving before we could really start hating each other. Thank you for the divorce. Thank you for the Skywalkers.

There’s very loud footsteps on the pavement and then suddenly a blond blur is clinging to Obi-Wan’s knee.

“Obi,” Luke says very reproachfully.

Obi-Wan automatically fixes the boy’s fringe. “Yes, little one?” he asks, very, very aware of the way Satine’s posture has shifted from almost relaxed to preparing for battle.

“Daddy wants to know if you want anything. He says they have those pop--pop--cycles that you like.”

Obi-Wan switches his attention away from Luke so that he can raise a very scathing eyebrow at Anakin, who shrugs as if butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. He had most certainly told Anakin that he was fine and that he didn’t want to spoil his lunch. Sending Luke over had not been a friendly check-in. It had been an invasion.

“I’m fine,” Obi-Wan tells Anakin’s son. “I don’t want to spoil my lunch.”

These words seem just as foreign to Luke as they did to his father, because he squints up at Obi-Wan before shrugging and clambering up into Obi-Wan’s lap.

“Who is she, Obi?” he asks, not quietly at all.

Obi-Wan sighs. And then resists the urge to sigh harder when he catches sight of Satine’s pinched face.

A thousand conversations rush back to him.

“My career has to come first, Satine.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“A child? At my age?”

“It’s Obi-Wan, not Obi.”

“I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready, dear. Our lives would change. Fundamentally. We’d have to compromise, we’d have to figure out a way to be there for them whenever they needed it. I know people manage. But would we?”

“Don’t--”

“I’m sorry, darling. I don’t want children.”

“Don’t call me Obi.”

He understands perfectly why Satine looks as if someone has just fed her half a lemon. He does.

She’s run into her ex-husband at the park and settled in to have a civil conversation with the man, only to see that he owns a dog (which he had been against when they were together), has a child (Luke isn’t his, of course, but he can understand the confusion), and lets that child call him one of his most hated nicknames.

“Obi?” she asks, which is probably starting out small, something he is very grateful for.

“Who are you?” Luke asks more forcefully, gripping onto Obi-Wan’s shirt with his little hands. Of all the times for the boy to decide to speak up to strangers--

“I’m Satine,” Satine answers graciously. And then, “Who are you?”

“Luke,” the boy says, far less graciously. “Obi lives with us.”

“Us?” Satine asks, mostly to Obi-Wan. “You mentioned a...Leia earlier?”

“My sister,” Luke interrupts before Obi-Wan can, perhaps, explain the situation. “We’re twins.”

“Twins!” Satine gasps in a way that’s most definitely pointed and directed at Obi-Wan. “Obi, I hadn’t known you had twins!”

“I…” Obi-Wan starts to say that he doesn’t, but the twins have started shooting him very hurt looks every time he corrects strangers on the fact that the twins aren’t actually his. He’s mostly stopped correcting people now because Luke and Leia’s betrayed expressions are really, quite frankly, works of art.

“Obi-Wan!” a voice interrupts him to his right. It’s a familiar voice, one that he’s heard as he falls asleep, one he’s heard first thing in the morning, one he’s heard cry and yell and gasp and laugh, one he thinks to himself might just be one of the most beautiful sounds in the entire world.

Without his permission or even his consent, butterflies erupt in his stomach and he turns from Satine’s rigid expression to Anakin’s slightly manic grin.

“Anakin,” he says, standing immediately with Luke cradled in his arms.

“We got you the red popsicle because Luke never came back,” Anakin says, thrusting the icy treat forward as Leia tries to clamber on the bench to hand Luke his own chocolate-covered cone.

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan says, all thoughts about his appetite for lunch pushed out of his mind by the size of Anakin’s smile. “That’s very sweet of you.”

Anakin ducks his head and rubs at the back of his neck, his face turning red like Obi-Wan’s popsicle. Obi-Wan thinks he’s never been this hopelessly endeared in his entire life.

“I should be going,” Satine says suddenly, standing up. Obi-Wan is a bit ashamed to realize he has forgotten her in the wake of the arrival of the Skywalkers.

But he knows he should not leave like this. They deserve more than this stilted sort of interrupted conversation.

Gently, he sets Luke on the ground despite the boy’s protests and chases after his ex-wife.

“Satine, wait,” he pants as he catches up with her.

“What, Obi-Wan?” she asks, voice strained and eyes a bit wet. “What else do you want me to see? What else is there left? I get it, alright. I get it. It was never you--it wasn’t--it wasn’t that you didn’t want pets or kids or--or all of it. You just didn’t want them with me. It was me. All along.”

She turns away, wiping frantically at her eyes. Obi-Wan isn’t sure if he’s ever felt worse.

“No,” he insists, reaching out to touch her forearm, painfully aware of how public they are right now. “No, you’ve got it wrong. It’s not...it was never you. It’s just…”

He pauses and tries to find the words to describe the past three years of his life. That first year of despair and hopelessness and isolation. And then the way Anakin and his children had crept into his life like a summer sunrise in the dead of winter, unexpectedly and then slowly and then all at once.

Obi-Wan shrugs helplessly, at a loss for words. There’s no way to describe something like that to someone who hasn’t experienced it. “It’s just…them.”

Satine takes a few moments to breathe before she turns to face him. She’s smiling and it looks mostly like a grimace, but he’ll accept it as more than he deserves.

“Oh Obi-Wan,” she says, laying a hand over the hand he has on his arm. “You always had so many rules.”

Obi-Wan fights the urge to bristle, reminding himself that Satine has the right to say anything she wants to him today and the amount of hurts they’ve dealt each other still probably wouldn’t be even.

It takes him completely by surprise then when she hugs him. He hugs her back automatically, blinking stupidly further into the park.

“I’m glad you’ve found your exceptions,” she whispers to him as she pulls back with a sad smile.

“Satine,” he says, but he doesn’t know where he’s going with that and falls silent. She shakes her head and rolls her eyes, leaning in to press a featherlight kiss to his bearded cheek.

“Glad to know I can still make you speechless,” she tells him wryly.

“Always,” he promises her, and she laughs. Obi-Wan is suddenly struck with a sort of gut-wrenching realization that she used to be his best friend as well as his wife. He had lost both in one fell swoop.

“I think I just put you in a world of trouble,” she smirks, tilting her head back down the path. “Your partner doesn’t look very happy.”

“He’s not my--” Obi-Wan starts to say and then decides fuck it. He shrugs. “It was nice to see you again, Satine. I hope. I. I really am glad that you’re doing well.”

Satine smiles and squeezes his hand once before letting go. “You too, Obi-Wan. You too.”

When he gets back to his family, Anakin is staring intensely down at his shoes, while Luke and Leia are glaring just as intensely up at Obi-Wan.

“Who was that?” Leia demands immediately.

“Satine,” Luke relays to her, as if the word means one hundred terrible and tragic things.

“An old friend,” Obi-Wan corrects. “We haven’t seen each other in a while. I just...I just wanted to say goodbye.”

“Did you?” Anakin asks, strangely intent as he looks down at Obi-Wan’s face.

“I did,” Obi-Wan tells him. It sounds like a promise. Yes, seeing Satine had been a peculiar twist of fate, but it had felt like a goodbye. To her. To the last vestiges of their marriage. To the man he had been when he had been in love with her.

The realization feels like it should hurt, but it doesn’t. Instead of ruminating on it though, he holds his hand out to Luke’s sticky fingers. “Shall we?” he asks, as Anakin falls into place on his other side, Leia held firmly in his arms. “It’s a fairly large hill, are you sure you’re up for it?”

“Yes!” Luke insists enthusiastically, all thoughts of the blonde woman his Obi had been talking to immediately forgotten.

“Perhaps by the time we get to the top, we’ll be prepared for lunch,” Obi-Wan tells Anakin wryly. The other man laughs, but his eyebrows stay pinched. Obi-Wan has the strangest desire to kiss them smooth, to lean over and kiss Anakin’s face until he’s blushing and laughing and light as he knows he can be.

But it’s very obviously not the time and place. Such a step forward needs both a proper time and place. After all, you may have multiple loves of your lives, but you only ever kiss each of them for the first time once. And Obi-Wan is pretty sure he’s only got the two; he’s not looking to mess this one up.

#asks #obikin #KUWSK #Keeping Up With The Skywalker-Kenobis #two days after this ficlet #obi-wan accidentally kisses anakin as he's leaving the house #anakin probably would react better to that if he hadn't spent the past 48 hours worried out of his mind that satine and obi wan #are gonna get back together #anakin to padme: i mean how can you meet him and NOT fall in love with him i dont understand #padme: i mean im not in love with him and ive met him....#anakin: and i don't understand!!!!!

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