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tteokdoroki · 4 years ago

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had it | k.bakugou.

♡ pairing: katsuki bakugou x fem!reader.

♡ word count: 4.5K

♡ rating: everyone.

♡ genre: pro hero!au, married!au, fluff, comfort.

♡ summary: your pro hero husband is a show off, always has and always will be... but when his big ego gets in the way of you doing your job, you give him little piece of your mind..

♡ warning(s): please read ! mentions of violence, i gave reader a quirk?? bakugou with a daughter ok literally nothing. oh and angst if you squint.

♡ author’s note(s): hi besties!! happy birthday to meee!! today i’m dropping a fic that’s been a long time coming, its a short and fluffy little piece with domestic baku bc i love him with babies n kids ok ok!! i hope you all have a lovely day <3

♡ masterlist | requests | kofi

some say that working for a pro hero is an honour, no matter what the position is. some may work behind the scenes— creating gear and suits that support the pros protecting their cities or livelihoods. others are in charge of things like reports, PR and even physical health. everyone plays an important role in a hero's career. there’s never a dull moment working in a team supporting the pros, especially if that pro was dynamight.

the offices for katsuki bakugou’s hero agency were always buzzing; usually because the clean up team were rushing through with stacks upon stacks of receipts and paperwork from the damage done during bakugou’s patrols— other times it would be his secretaries gossiping about how good he looks in his winter costume because damn did that tight black shirt do his arms justice but usually it was just because of the PR team contacting media outlets with excuses for bakugou’s potty mouth.

working for the hot headed blonde was more laid back than it seemed however, the man himself was rarely ever in the office as the number two hero but out on missions instead, the pay was pretty decent and no one ever really faced his angry wrath nor his sailor like mouth unless they had royally fucked up on their job. katsuki bakugou was someone to admire, he never gave a damn about what people had to say about him— he only cared about getting the job done and maybe that’s why most people enjoyed their time under the dynamight agency.

particularly this time, right around noon.

the doors to the floor of the secretary offices fly open, crashing loudly against the walls and drawing the staff from their daily work. this office space is around ten floors up and somehow you’ve made it in record time today. “where is he?” your voice crawls through the entrance of the room, settling over the workers like a thick fog— commanding, menacing and soft all at the same time. newbies cower in their boots, confused at what’s going on and it’s safe to presume those who have been working here for years have yet to give them the run down. “don’t make me ask again.” you add, eyes darkening as you cast your gaze across the room.

an intern approaches you, visibly shaking with fear which makes you loosen your stance and raise an eyebrow toward them. “he-uh... he just went for his lunch break—“ the stutter, gulping under the stare of another highly ranked pro hero. “in his...office— ma’am!” they stumble through their words, hiding behind the ungodly amount of paperwork that's been dumped into their hands. you make a mental note to chew bakugou out on the load his interns have been getting as well as your prior reasons for coming to his agency.

nonetheless you shake your head and drop the frown, a sweet smile quickly replacing the look that could put anyone six feet under if you really tried. with a tap to the side of your head, the visor to your hero costume rises above your eyes— allowing you to give the poor little intern a cheeky wink as thanks. “‘ppreciate it darling, have a good one!” you thank them properly with a ruffle to their hair, resuming your previous stance as you march the rest of the way through the office and kick open the door at the end of the room.

the intern sags, a whimper of relief passing from tired lips while they wipe at the sweat forming on their brow. they’d not even encountered their boss yet and they’d already come face to face with a top pro hero. “w-what’s her deal?”

a chuckle to the left of the poor kid startles them out of their mind; but they relax upon realising it’s just another one of dynamight’s secretaries— haruto, who’d apparently been working at the agency since it started up. “that’s nightsky, her quirk is lullaby, which allows her to control certain people if she hits the right note. she can also put them to sleep, if she really wants to,” the intern now perks up, remembering you from countless interviews on tv. you ranked pretty highly too, managing to the reach the top five this year along with others like shoto and deku. “she owns the hero agency across the street, herself and dynamight have been going at it ever since. it’s like they’re elderly lovers or somethin‘.”

“d-do you think they are? lovers like you say?” the intern asks a little too excitedly, touching at their messy hair from where you’d ruffled it. a crimson blush warms their cheeks, the idea of two pros playing enemies to the public eye but being lovers in secret seemed like something right out of a romance novel. how romantic.

haruto only chuckles at the newbie, standing to ruffle their hair as well before heading over to the coffee stand to fix himself a cup. “beats me,” he mumbles cheerily as he walks away, arms crossed behind his head. “but with the way yn bursts in here at the same time everyday to scold bakugou, and leaves with a huge smile on her face— i wouldn’t put it past them. they probably have a whole life together.” he taps his nose once as if he’s given away too much information, turning away without a word.

the intern hums, seemingly happy with their superior’s answer and easily heads back to work from there.

katsuki bakugou was bored out of his mind.

being a successful pro hero was all he’d ever wanted— being the number two pro hero just came with that. bakugou wanted to get to the top and show everyone he was the best of the best and with him being blessed with a powerful quirk there was no way he couldn’t be where he was today. yet, now that he’d finally achieved his dream all he wanted was a fucking break. the blonde stares down at his microwaveable bowl of home cooked stew, a frown cutting deep into his cheeks. it was his lunch break for crying out loud, but instead of scarfing down the delicious meal before him, the hero was forced to watch it cool as some dumb fuck reporter asked him questions over the phone.

the telephone interview ( or a waste of his fucking time, as katsuki had called it ) , had been set up by his PR team right after he’d taken down a couple low level villains downtown earlier this morning. katsuki had called it nothing but apparently the whole world and their mother had been on his ass, watching as he took the criminals down with ease and raving about how glorious dynamight was during that fight. the reporter drones on about said event, asking the same old questions and it takes everything within the hot headed pro not to blow a casket— he’d been promised a few extra days off from his manager if he could finish the interview without blowing something up and only god knew how much katsuki needed a break from dumb paps and some overly obsessive fans.

‘so, final question, how does it feel to be the number two?’

bakugou grunts, buying himself time to formulate an answer. what he really wants to do is kindly tell the reporter to fuck off and ask more original questions; but with the prize of a longer weekend hanging in the balance he bites his tongue for the sake of freedom. “well i—“

“katsuki bakugou.” your voice cuts through his sentence before he can finish, vermillion eyes land on your hero costume clad form as you burst into his office. a lazy smirk now decorates the hero’s lips, brow quirked with piqued interest. “i have a bone to pick with you, you motherfucker.”

the reporter on the other end falls silent as katsuki watches you, leaning back in his plush leather chair. you look slightly disheveled, costume torn in a few places, scrapes littering your skin as you pant heavily from exertion— chest rising and falling with every breath, it seems ragged and bakugou makes a mental note to remind you to get your ribs checked out later. “you’re late, shitty woman.” the number two sits up a little straighter as you enter the room, leaning up to look at you while you slam your hands down on the smooth marble desk— the force rattling the items he has neatly placed on it.

‘uh-? mister...dynamight-? sir?’

your eyes sweep the room while the pro before you deals with the reporter, mentioning to her that they’ll have to continue their call later. in the meantime, you note that katsuki’s office is meticulously clean, not a single book, folder or pen out of place— it’s high up with a perfect view of the city and the large windows allow golden beams of the sun to light up the room. the sound of a phone being placed back on its hook brings you from your thoughts; annoyance settling deep in your veins as you turn to face bakugou again.

“i had it,” you growl lowly, jumping the gun before he can even register what you’ve said. “i’m a grown woman, katsuki, i can handle a couple of criminals myself, you know.”

the blasting hero does nothing but smirk even wider at the irked tone that litters your voice, standing up as well to tower over you. bakugou still wears his own hero costume, considerably in less damage than yours— not a single tear had formed in his suit, mind the small scratches on his face no doubt from his stupid explosions creating some debris. leaning over the desk between you, bakugou uses a forefinger and thumb to tilt your head up, bringing you even closer than before. “clearly y’didn’t sweetheart, or otherwise that icyhot bastard wouldn’t have needed to back you up ‘fore i got there...” his timbre voice sends sparks of electricity through the air in the room, it’s low and gravelly which is enough to send shivers down your spine but you’re not about to let katsuki bakugou know that he makes you flustered— it’d go straight to his head, the cocky bastard.

nonetheless; you roll your eyes at the mention of your old classmate and fellow pro hero— shoto todoroki. yourself and shoto got along fairly well, even back in high school, so it was normal for you to work together from time to time; you both made a great team and your skill set complimented each other’s well. katsuki was just jealous. he never really got along with todoroki like that. “he didn’t back me up, we were working together,” you snap back at the blonde, shaking yourself from bakugou’s grasp and flicking him right between those alluring vermillion eyes. “something you might not be familiar with, mister number two.” bakugou backs away from you completely ( only wincing slightly ), making you smirk in victory. you’ve struck a nerve. deciding to leave the conversation at that, you turn to make your exit as he collapses back into his seat with a deathly scowl and a quiet ‘tch’. “like i said, i had it, dynamight. next time, don’t jump in uninvited.”

happy that you got the last laugh, you open the door to leave his office but pause when a wave of heat hits your back. you should have known, katsuki bakugou was never one to back down from a challenge and you certainly weren’t an exception. well shit. when you turn around to face the blonde, small explosions spark from his right hand and he has some what of a look of a feral pomeranian, blood red eyes full of rage.

you visibly gulp and katsuki growls out his next words with the upmost venom, designed to hurt and cut at your feelings. “well maybe y’sudda let the actual pros handle shit like this,” bakugou begins, voice rising in volume with every syllable that passes his lips. “we both know you’re no good at short distance attacks with your quirk, shitty woman, you couldn’t have taken those villains down without me.” the blonde finishes with a short ‘tsk’, settling the explosions that spark in his palms. now it’s your turn to be pissed. you could handle katsuki’s jealousy, his petty reasoning for joining you on your patrol and taking the credit but bashing you and your quirk? no way in hell would he get away with that.

“bakugou?”

“what? the fuck y’still here for?”

you roll your shoulders, gracing the blonde with a devilish smile as your eyes light up mischievously. “why are you hitting yourself, bakugou?” you sing, hitting just the right notes that will have him under your spell, the tone in your voice as smooth as chocolate. katsuki’s eyes widen in horror and before he can stop himself, his free hand comes up to slap him across the face. that was your quirk, lullaby. you had the ability to sing your way out of any situation— adjusting the tune of your song to control the actions of certain individuals or groups of people. it was near impossible to resist but the more people you used your quirk on, the weaker your control over them was. that doesn’t mean you weren’t going to use it on bakugou from time to time. the blonde tries to fight it, he really does, but he’s no use up against your ability— losing all control of his own body. he grunts on impact, looking bewildered for a moment as he moves to grab his own wrist to stop any impending blows. “not so cocky now, are we dynamight?”

“h-hey!” he stammers, refusing to accept defeat against you. “shitty woman, no fuckin’ fair. you know i can’t use my quirk against you in here.” he was right, while your quirk was poor against short distance attacks ( meaning you had to result to hand to hand combat ), bakugou couldn’t use his own in enclosed spaces without hurting anyone he didn’t want to. especially you, he would never hurt you intentionally unless you were sparring.

“shoulda thought about that before you decided to taunt me, you know better than to piss off your wife, katsu.” you chide, still smiling just as brightly as you were earlier, before taking a seat on his desk and folding one leg over the other. it was quite amusing to watch your husband of four years fight against himself— everyone knew katsuki had an unbelievable amount of strength even without his quirk so he was definitely beating himself up ( literally and figuratively ).

bakugou looks up at you through gritted teeth while he struggles to keep the wrist you have control of down and you almost feel bad for the guy. “turn it off, dammit!” he curses at you, said hand rising above his free one to tug at his own sun kissed locks.

feigning interest in the objects on your lover's desk, you ignore his pleas for you to release him from the holds of your quirk and hum “apologise.”

“f-fuck... fuck y-you.”

you sigh knowingly, picking up a hand crafted paperweight, covered in glitter and sequin stars, inspecting it carefully. bakugou could hardly ever say the word ‘sorry’, it was just in his nature and he’d been that way since you were young. part of you knows it’s because of how he was treated as a child where people praised him for his quirk. that meant he became prideful yes, thought highly of himself too and struggled to admit when others were right...but he had his own way of apologising— through actions instead of words.

like when you first moved in together and he had broken your favourite mug, instead of saying he was sorry, he spent all night super glueing it back together for you to use in the morning. to him, actions were louder than words but you right now; you were being mean and just wanted to hear him say it.

“fuck fuck, fine. alright. ‘m sorry.” bakugou lets out a strained growl as the hand you control gives a particularly hard yank to his hair. “i’m sorry for lying about your quirk. it’s not shitty…’n ‘m sorry for... barging in on your patrol. again.” you grin, satisfied with his answer and grab the hand he keeps down with his wrist. you press a simple kiss to the skin, making your husband blush as you release your hold over the limb. katsuki shyly yanks it from your grip, rubbing over the area that you’d kissed, shooting his gaze to the side in the process. “jesus shitty woman, if i don’t die from being a hero or of old fucking age, i know for a fact you’ll be the one to kill me first.” he mutters harshly under his breath, but you know he’s only kidding from the way his hands now fall to your thighs and his fingers rub small circles into the exposed skin.

“pro hero nightsky murders number two pro hero dynamight in cold blood!” you joke as if you’re reading a headline in a news article, katsuki only glares up at you— making no effort to curse you out because of your shitty joke, which causes you to frown while leaning forward to brush some of his hair away from his face. “you know i’m only kidding right? is something wrong? did i come at a bad time?”

it’s only now that you notice the exhausted expression that paints your lover’s face. he’s always up to playing this game with you, at the same time every day— you come to bother him about some trivial matter, tease him a bit and leave with a kiss. but today, you can tell he’s trying to hide something from you. something that bothers him.

bakugou shakes his head, leaning into your touch as you play with his hair— a habit he’d picked up from even before you started dating back in high school, although he’d never admit that to you if you’d asked. “nothin’, just this stupid fuckin’ interview the PR team want me to do about the fight today. the one i took from you,” your husband smirks slightly at the thought and you roll your eyes for what seems like the nine hundredth time that afternoon. “didn’t get to finish my fuckin’ lunch but they promised me a couple days off if i got the interview done.”

“better the number two than me, eh? but don’t worry, i’ll order us some take out tonight,” your suggest, voice coming out as soft and mingling with your slight giggle— a quiet melody to katsuki’s ears. your only reply from him is a grunt, so you stop your fingers in his hair and watch as he scowls up at you. you quickly press a kiss to the explosive hero’s lips, pulling away to reveal his blushing face. you smile, knowing that you’re the only one who can make him flush red like that. “there’s something else bothering you, isn’t there?”

if there’s one thing katsuki bakugou hates, it’s how you read him like an open book. one look at him and it’s like you know exactly how he’s feeling. he can never hide anything from you— sometimes that both pisses him off and reminds him of how much he is loved by you. he hesitates with his words at first but decides to confide in you anyway, knowing that you’ll get it out of him in one way or another. “‘m worried about you, dumbass.” he mumbles, nudging your hand with his head as if to ask you to continue your earlier actions. “i know you had it, yer fuckin’ powerful but you looked so tired in that fight today ‘n i thought something bad was gonna happen to you, y’fuckin’ shitty woman.”

he toys with the tears in your costume now, smoothing over scars from your bumps and scratches as a result of combat. “oh lovebug,” you mumble, cupping his cheeks to make him look up at you. “you know i can handle my own, they just took a lot out of me today. i promise i’ll—“

“that’s not it, fuck,” katsuki cuts you off, brows furrowing deeply as he grabs your wrists— pulling your from his desk and into his lap. he holds you close, burying his nose into your neck as if you’re going to disappear. you sit still, a little shocked by his actions and his quick change of mood, but wrap your arms around him anyway and slowly fall silent. “it's just that...we’re both pros now and at the top of our ranks ‘n we both have a lot to lose.” you instinctively cling tighter to katsuki, mind flickering to the homemade paperweight you’d spotted on his desk earlier... causing your heart clench.

your daughter had made that for him during her time at preschool for fathers day; something your husband cherished with his whole heart, even if the thing was still sticky with glue when he’d gotten it.

katsuki loved taiga more than anything in the world and if something had happened to her because of your line of work, you don’t know what either of you would do. “what if something were to happen to you? or to me? or shit...both of us? who would look after taiga? you know what happens to kids who end up in the fucking system.” bakugou pauses, the same tired expression from earlier now sitting heavily on his face. “i just want you to be careful, stop pushing yourself so much, y’fuckin’ dumbasss. we have a family take care of. it’s not just you and i anymore.”

you nod, grasping onto your lover’s clothes tightly. the air is flooded with a comfortable silence, the pair of you holding one another right the way through it. you treasure moments like this, where the world stops and katsuki shows you another, more vulnerable side to him.

he would never admit or show this to anyone; but he cares , more than he lets on... especially for you and especially for your daughter. he was attentive, paid attention to you and your weaknesses and helped you overcome them. it was something you couldn’t stop loving about him. “i promise to be more careful, for you and for taiga,” you say quietly after he’s done scolding you, brushing your lips against the side of his head in a soft peck. “that must’ve been why jumped in earlier, you were worried about me?”

“somethin’ like that, you crazy woman,,” bakugou whispers, there’s a tinge of fondness to his ruby eyes as you pull away to look at him, his hands settling on your hips while he moves up to press a soft kiss to your awaiting lips. “didn’t want you getting yourself killed.”

you stay with katsuki in the office for a little longer than usual, laying on his chest as he prattles away about everything and anything even though he should be working. you make sure he eats his lunch, despite how cold it is and promise him a boat load of take out when he comes home later— your sweet cuddling session only being cut short by a call from your assistant to tell you that your daughter is ready to be picked up from school. “better finish that interview katsu, taiga’ll be happy to know her daddy’s getting some time off to spend with her soon,” you remind him as you gather yourself together, your husband pouting ( he swears on his life he wasn’t ) from the loss of your warmth in his lap. “she has a lot to tell you.”

the blonde quirks a brow, watching you as you head for the door. “yeah? like what?” a hand comes up to cover your mouth as you giggle at his curious face. sometimes, when you look at katsuki, you could see how much your daughter resembles him, right down to his mannerisms. she had somehow inherited the shape of your nose and the brightness of your smile ( the only reason barely anyone realised bakugou had a kid, he never fucking smiled. ) but the bakugou genes were incredibly strong so there was no way she’d miss out on those crimson eyes and uncontrollable, untameable messy blonde hair.

she even acted like him. a very brazen little girl who knew what she wanted and how to get it, so she had her daddy wrapped around her stubby little fingers.

you grin, eyes sparkling with the same mischief as before. “oh y’know, just her little crush on midoriya’s boy.”

“yer fuckin’ kiddin’ me.”

“i would never joke about such a thing, just make sure you’re home in time for dinner, number two!” you squeal, dashing out of the office before your husband has time to demand more answers from you. slamming the door shut, you chuckle at the melody of curses that leave your husbands mouth before heading off to pick up your daughter.

on your way, you admit to yourself , that maybe you didn’t have this fight in the bag. but what you did have; was a loving husband, a beautiful daughter and the best life you could have ever imagined.

extended ending:

“so, taiga... daddy hears you have a little... crush on someone.”

you’re in the kitchen, washing the dishes from tonight’s dinner as bakugou wipes tentatively at your little girl’s messy face— she was a poor eater but it’s something you didn’t mind, not when your husband was so soft with cleaning her up. you can see them from where you stand, watching katsuki knowingly.

taiga looks up from the colouring you’d set out for her when she finished up her meal, crimson eyes shining brightly as she fixes her gaze on her father. “mhm mhm!! he’s mister deku’s son! and i’m gonna marry him!”

“no yer not.” bakugou answers simply, looking close to popping a vein.

“why not?”

your husband scoffs, throwing away the tissue he’d used to clean his little girl up before joining her in her colouring. “‘cause daddy says so ‘n boys are gross, especially ones who’s dad’s look like broccoli.” the older ash blonde seems satisfied with his answer, grinning to himself as you dry the dishes with an amused smile.

but taiga isn’t finished, swapping her green crayon for a red one to finish up her drawing. “but you’re a boy...and mommy still married you!”

bakugou pauses, lost for words as taiga continues to colour— humming the theme song from a commercial for some of deku’s merch. you can tell it’s taking everything katsuki’s got not to combust right there on the spot, but he can’t stay mad at taiga for too long, not when she’s describing her wedding and how her daddy is going to walk her down the isle.

setting the dishes to dry and towelling your hands; you smile to yourself as you admire your family. some would say you had it all, and looking at the pair of bakugou’s now, who were you to deny the truth.

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hide-the-moonlight · 3 years ago

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The Seiya-Mamoru Wars

alright everyone I’ve had enough.

So you ship Seiusa or Usamamo? And you hate the other ship? Because come on, how could people actually like that ship? He was a sleazy bastard, and they’re stupid for not seeing it, and ALSO —

Yeah, stop right there. This post is for you. Sorry, this essay is for you.

This is going to be the essay thats fuelled and conquered by love and I’m going to argue that you should stop this ridiculous fight between the two ships,

and here’s why!!!!

Part 1: Keep your interpretation

Part 2: I’m projecting — you’re projecting — we’re all projecting

Part 3: Mamoru is not a wet sock (reflecting on Mamoru’s role in the show, at a glance)

Part 4: Seiya is not a slimy snake (exploring the reasons for Seiya’s behaviour. Yes, in MY interpretation. I don’t know yours)

Part 5: Usagi deserves to be loved (and to LOVE, its not a goddamn SIN to have feelings for someone if you’re in a relationship, and I’ll die on this hill if I have to.)

Part 92832: how long is this essay Jesus Christ.

Part 420: my gay disclaimer

(Psst this is also on ao3)

Hahaha okay, now we can finally begin.

Part 1: Interpretation

Every fanwork represents a different character. Every time someone writes about Seiya Kou, we meet a new Seiya Kou. The same for every character ever.

If you’ve ever read a fanfic in this fandom about either of these two ships, or hell, any fanfic ever about any ship, you will know just how individual the relationship is to the author that wrote about it. The Seiya and Mamoru that you have in your brain are completely different from the Seiya and Mamoru that someone else has in their brain.

“Oh but in the anime Seiya/Mamoru is horrible because—“ Wake up. People have different experiences than you of the same world as you. The same anime we all watched, the same characters we all know and love. In each of us lives a different character, despite them all sharing the same name, Seiya Kou, or Mamoru Chiba, or Usagi Tsukino.

Key in this is that your experience is valid, and it’s real, and you have just as much cause to hate whatever character you want as the next guy. The Seiya or Mamoru you have in your head is as real as they have ever been.

But.

I’m sick of people taking such bold stances about these characters categorically as if you’ve experienced a truth beyond anyone else’s. I am not saying you’re not allowed to hate them, because you can do what you want. But what I am against is the way people express this categorical declaration that Seiya/Mamoru are, well, scum.

So…how am I going to make this defence of them, you might ask? Well, I’m going to take my stance because I don’t like seeing antagonism of any kind, and particularly when it feels so…pointless to me, when it comes to these characters.

TL;DR (Part 1): just because you hate Seiya/Mamoru because of an idea you have in your head, doesn’t mean that other people suck for loving that character because, they don’t have the same character in mind as you!!!

Part 2: I’m projecting — you’re projecting — we’re all projecting

My BIGGEST problem with this (—I think I say that a lot) is that people feel like if they like one character that means they have to hate the other. Where in the world did you get this idea? Is this also you subscribing to the idea that you should hate your ex? And that every ex is evil? And that if you like more than one person, you have to choose one, and somehow vilify the other? Because assflash newshole, you don’t have to hate people just because you used to be together and now you’re not (yes you can hate people who wronged you etc etc, but, based on the fact alone that you broke up? yeah sorry that’s not cool).

The people I loved who are not in my life anymore are still very precious to me and I wish the best for them always, and would be friends with them again if our lives crossed paths again. Yes my heart broke leaving them. Yes it hurt. Yes I love them. And YES I feel Usagi would be the same. Yes I’m projecting. Yes, you are all also projecting your experiences of people onto how you read characters.

So many tropes where there is more than one romantic interest, people feel the need to find a glaring negative thing about one of them, to make the choice easier. And, to put it simply, I think that’s stupid. I think that both Seiya and Mamoru can be appreciated for their many wonderful traits, and the many wonderful futures that Usagi might have with one or the other (or both;) ). So you might ask, how could we choose which one is better, Seiya or Mamoru? You know which one you prefer, just go with that. It is completely unnecessary to derisively ridicule the other.

And if you’re wondering how Usagi could choose, if there is no clear choice between Seiya and Mamoru, and one isn’t made out to be explicitly worse than the other? Well, choosing one can carry with it grieving the loss of the other, and that is beautiful and tragic and she can still be happy with her choice even if she grieves a future she can’t have. (But also, she can have it, if you just write a different timeline fic where she chose the other! Haha)

Life and love is more complicated and nuanced than finding one obvious soulmate. Love is something that you can create on your own, endlessly transforming it as your partnership and life changes like a kaleidoscope of tenderness, honesty, and love. And I repeat again, a relationship is choosing to love who you love, to love your partner over and over again, freely and honestly.

Okay okay, I promised we’d talk about Mamoru and Seiya. Let’s get INTO IT!

Part 3: The Mamoru Problem

Some genre of Seiya fans defend their stance using the argument that Mamoru suffered from a bad case of being a soggy wet sock. And that usually means things like “he wasn’t supportive”, “they had no chemistry”, “he was rude”, “he was neglectful”, etc. My argument for him stands on the base belief that Mamoru barely got ANY time during the entire show. Yes the first season was about him, but even that had less emphasis on their evolving dynamic and relationship than what the 5th season allowed for Seiya and Usagi.

Mamoru and Usagi were forced to (rather traumatically) go from being antagonistic towards each other because they pushed each other’s buttons, to finding out they’d died for one another a thousand years ago, and that Mamoru’s alter ego (that he just gained awareness of) has been protecting Usagi’s alter ego. Okay, thats complicated.

And then he gets brainwashed. Okay, that complicates it more.

And then…sadly, we don’t get to see much of their relationship after. Yeah, we see that they date again (and break up, and date again), but I never felt I got to see Mamoru for who he is, y’know? Please reply to this if you have more to say in support of Mamoru :)

But, I really feel like there is no room for the development of their relationship, because the story is big enough with its large epic history and history repeating itself. It’s the story about them, not with them, if you follow me. The reason they get together in the first season is only because they loved each other one thousand years ago. Just as Mamoru himself said in season two, that's kind of insufficient reason to be together.

We also see how Usgai is quite different from the Princess Serenity she used to be, and I would argue the same for Mamoru. We never saw Prince Endymion being so snarky and sharp like Mamoru was in the first season, which are very fun aspects of his character. These things point towards the fact that Usagi and Mamoru on Earth in the 20th century are different people, and it is a little irrational for them to get together based on the fact alone that their previous lifetimes had a love beautiful love between them. The love was between two very different people.

I understand people believe they are soulmates, (and if its not clear yet then it will become soon that I don't particularly subscribe to that idea. Relationships are an art that we get to partake in, and that is the greatest gift we have as humans) and Usagi and Mamoru being soulmates would be justification enough for them getting together in present day. Oh, how beautiful, their souls are tied together so tightly that throughout all of time they will always be brought together by one common thread...

There is so much beauty in that, that I think people rightfully recognize and cherish. I wish I could give an even more in depth account of the wonder of this trope, but I’m trying my hardest to write for both sides while personally being invested in one side than the other. If this is unconvincing enough, I will write more on this if need be.

Alternate to the long-lost soulmates story, someone might prefer the beauty of seeing two people meet and connect, and their relationship change into something incredible based on the people they are for each other now. Seeing the beauty of people choosing to love each other. There is something to the idea that someone being able to make you happy now is a better predictor of them being able to make you happy in the future, than someone who'd made you happy one thousand years ago, in a previous lifetime. The latter is no predictor at all.

To me, choice is so much more powerful than predestination. The latter might involve so little effort, but the former carries with it deliberation and a battle against reasons to fight to be together. Life has a way of pulling and pushing and tearing and binding, and to choose to fight against that torrent of everlasting change, just to be with someone?

My point in bringing this up is that Usagi and Mamoru's relationship in season one and all that follows, lies on this base assumption that to be soulmates is the highest form of love. This is antithetical to the idea that love is choice. To the idea that love is something that you might jump towards, might care for, might nourish and grow. Something you move deliberately towards when you meet someone with whom you are happy, safe, and burning with life.

I feel like the battle between people who love Mamoru versus people who love Seiya, is just a preference for a soulmates-view opposed to the found-love view. Usagi and Mamoru have been bound by fate since beyond time immemorial. That is eternal and beautiful and timeless, and people rightly see the beauty in that story. On the opposite end, Usagi and Seiya found something beautiful between each other, right then and there. People also rightly feel for the spark they had between each other, because they know what its like to meet someone and be captivated immediately, and yearn to be able to meet that person and get closer to that person and be able to love them and protect them, despite everything.

Usagi and Mamoru's relationship was based on the soulmates idea, and never had time to show their actual progression of going from strangers to enemies to friends, and that sweet, sweet, transition to realizing they like each other. We didn't get to see that in season one.

And then…the seasons that follow: the second season is entirely about Chibi-Usa. The third is about Chibi-usa and Hotaru (and Michiru and Haruka). The fourth season is about Chibi-usa. (This show should be called Chibi-Usa and her cool mom Sailor Moon). I loved Chibi-usa when I was a kid, and I won’t have any slander towards her. And if you have ever been around 3-6 year olds…yes they’re annoying, and yes they are deserving of love, and very fun little people. That’s who she is.

I digress.

So what’s left for the intricate romance chemistry explorations in this world? Not much, is what I’m getting at. Season 5 is the first time where we’re not focusing on the story about Sailor Moon, because she is already Sailor Moon, and she’s living her life now. She knows the routine, what-its-like-to-be-a-Sailor-Scout has (finally, mostly) been explored, and the pile of things to explore has reached relationships.

And Chibi-usa and Mamoru exit the scene. This story is about Usagi.

And in comes Seiya.

Part 4: Seiya and the arguments against him/her. (I use the pronouns interchangeably, hope it’s not confusing)

Some of these are almost valid. Almost.

I love this arc because Usagi wasn’t going to be swayed by looks and charm anymore — she has Mamoru, and more importantly she’s grown up. I’ve seen others mention this, but yes, I agree that if Seiya had appeared in season one that their story would’ve been so vastly different, because Usagi would be so easily captivated by his charm that Seiya wouldn’t have had to fight to get to know her, and I feel like Usagi wasn’t mature enough yet.

Season five Usagi not seeing Seiya as a charming boy she wants to date lets them have a progressive relationship in which they spend time together, and their dynamic becomes more defined. And this is just something that season one Usagi and Mamoru just didn’t have time to do. It’s not Mamoru’s fault, for christ’s sake!

The biggest points against Seiya: that he’s a stalker, and the moment in the rain.

My defences follow.

First of all, let’s review the facts: I’m assuming that ‘stalker’ refers to things like how Seiya waits for her after school just to talk to her, and he comes to her house in the evening one night. First of all, my biggest defence is: this is like, 1996. How else do you think he could’ve gotten in contact with her? On the first occasion, they don’t know each other that well, he hasn’t got her phone number. There ain’t no social media Seiya can use to contact her. Dude.

And the same is true for the night he comes to her house. They’ve lost contact because the Starlights aren’t going to school anymore. At this point, I believe he’s tried calling her, and she doesn’t reply because she’s trying to call Mamoru for hours. (Aka the saddest thing I’ve ever experienced. Oh my f*cking god, he’s literally dead. She’s trying to call him and he’s dead ;-;)

So what’s Seiya to do? It’s 1996.

A couple of years ago I was chatting with my dad when I asked him, hey wait a minute, how did you plan to hang out with your friends if you couldn’t message them ahead of time? Or call them? And he laughed, “you just go to their house, of course.” Yeah, this shocked me, because I’m blind to the many aspects of culture that I had no idea changed because of the internet, because I’ve grown up with it. But, think about it. What else could you do? It was much more normal then than it is now. Now if someone comes to your house without texting you first, you’re like ‘omg creepy, you didn’t tell me you were coming’, which, now is a good response! If someone comes to my house with no warning they better have a damn good reason for doing so.

But this? Seiya, a sad lad in 1996? It’s a different day and age.

Case closed.

The other problem: why did he have to go and say “aren’t I good enough?” when Usagi was crying about Mamoru in the rain?

Consider this: what is Seiya’s perspective here?

Seiya, a rash and emotional teenager, has seen Usagi, for the entire duration of the season, talk about, pine over, and cry over this dude, Mamoru.

This mystery Mamoru supposedly went to America to study, and not bothered to contact her at all. Seiya sees how Usagi glorifies him, how he’s supposedly the best person in the world, and— without any, any evidence, how is Seiya supposed to interpret this? As I understand it, Seiya, in her frustrated state and head-over-heels in love, doesn’t understand how someone supposedly so good would leave Usagi, the most wonderful and sweet person Seiya’s ever met and loves so deeply, hanging like this? With no attempt to contact her?! It’s been months! What the hell?!

TL;DR: Seiya has no idea Mamoru is dead (this is so fucking sad ;-;), has no idea Mamoru is good or kind or sweet or caring, all seiya knows is that Usagi deserves to be loved, and she doesn’t deserve to feel like this, and what if this Mamoru type isn’t who she thinks he is? How terrifying is that thought? What if Usagi's been tricked by a sleazy guy?

A million things could’ve run through Seiya’s mind, and Usagi could’ve said a million things to confirm Seiya’s fears. As I understand it, Seiya’s pain about the situation exploded, seeing Usagi cry like that in the rain.

Seiya had been trying to keep her cheered up for these many months of her being alone, and Seiya would do it forever if she had to (if only she could…). And it hurts because if Seiya has been able and successful in cheering Usagi up all this time, maybe Usagi could be happy with Seiya too?

In conclusion: Seiya has no idea who Mamoru is, and feels it’s unjust that Usagi is being treated like this. In comparison to this absence of Mamoru, isn’t Seiya good enough to cheer up Usagi for now? How would Seiya have known any better….

We’ve almost made it to the end, but not quite.

Part 5: Oh my god have you come this far? (It’s time we think about how Usagi feels for once.)

My last argument comes from the point of view of Usagi, and my adamant opinion that both Seiya and Mamoru are lovely and deserve to be loved, and Usagi deserves to be loved by everyone.

What did Usagi experience?

I want to make the case that we shouldn’t hate Seiya for pursuing Usagi, because Usagi clearly liked Seiya. (See: she came to the Three Lights radio show to see Seiya. She came to Seiya’s concert. She asked Seiya to come to the school cafe event. I could go on.) And we shouldn’t hate Mamoru because Usagi liked Seiya — that’s ridiculous, I’m sorry, what, why would you decide to hate Mamoru for that?!

Here’s my big problem with this, which is also my hottest spiciest take:

People are allowed to like other people, to have crushes on other people, and even feel love towards other people when they’re in a relationship. The key is that you stay true to your relationship, as you and your partner defined it.

A relationship means choosing the person you’re with, despite everything else. It means being true to your relationship, it means discussing boundaries, it means being honest, open, and communicative with your partner -- “I’m having feelings for this person, how does this make you feel? I value you and your experience more, so if you feel uncomfortable, I can distance myself with this person. But I’m open to having a conversation about why I value our relationship, and don’t want you to feel threatened by my feelings for this other person. I have no desire to act on these feelings, it just felt wrong to keep something like this from you.”

And the emphasis of this is that, being unable to communicate with Mamoru to discuss any of her feelings and engage with him in trying to understand the emotional situation together, Usagi maintained the integrity of their relationship and never betrayed him once. Importantly, she didn’t blame Seiya at all for the situation.

And during this time, Seiya was shocked too about the situation, since Seiya’s goal had been to save Princess Kakyuu, and meeting Usagi turned Seiya’s entire world upside down. I think meeting Usagi changed the entire experience of life, and I hope is what made Seiya fall in love with the world.

All this means that I think Usagi is not in the wrong for having feelings for Seiya. It means that I think it’s beautiful that despite having feelings for Seiya, she stayed true to her relationship with Mamoru, because in their absence of communication she still valued him and his experience and being honest with him. It’s terribly tragic. And all the while, she didn’t vilify either of them or make a big deal out of choosing between the two of them. And I think it’s beautiful, and that Usagi deserves to love and to be loved as freely and openly as she might wish.

I believe that Seiya wasn’t wrong to try and be around Usagi as much as possible, because I think Usagi liked Seiya as well, and I like to think that Seiya could sense that and could feel the internal battle Usagi had raging inside her too.

PART 1,000,000: CONCLUSION

In conclusion, loving one ship shouldn’t have to mean that you have to hate the other. Usagi deserves to be loved and to love as much as she can and wants to, and it’s the beauty of our ability to tell a million stories about this world through fan fiction that she can experience exactly that.

This is why I’m writing my fanfic — because I’d like to create a world where Usagi doesn’t have the agonizing experience of having to balance Mamoru’s absence with her feelings for Seiya. I want her to experience her feelings for Seiya freely. And likewise, I want her to be able to love Mamoru, and I personally don’t want to ridicule Mamoru by creating a fantasy in which he is the scumbag Mamoru-haters wish he was.

I believe that if he knew he was going to die, he would have wanted Usagi to find love and happiness in this world without him, because he loves her and wants that for her more than anything. I would want that for the people in my life too.

I TRULY think the best take to have here is to love both of them, and burn the idea of exclusivity, and embrace polyamory xD Hahaha, it’s a joke but its also not a joke. I think that is a much better take than the antagonism has ever been.

THE END, GET OUT OF HERE

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akookminsupporter · 3 years ago

Note

It me, the big bad multifan anon. *kisses*

1. Glad to have someone new to fight that’s not a taekook anon? Please take this response as lightly as I mean it. I am not offended by your response or the other responses I skimmed. I do take offense at the person who disliked Ateez, so rude taking potshots at my other favorite boys. Jungkook vs Jongho sing off when? (I lie, Jongho is too nice to be subjected to Army).

2. Saying I love BTS but I have problems with the fandom does not downgrade my argument. You can love something but have problems with things associated with it.

3. I think we’re coming at this from very different angles. I run in a lot of fandom spaces. Some of y’all say that I’m wasting my time doing that; that’s fine, but fandom is important to me (also you’re fighting with me on a fan blog so don’t fall off that high horse lmao). I’ve been in many over the years. When I mention stans I don’t talk about casual listeners but people who are active in online fan spaces. And Army has a pretty embarrassing reputation online of saying things without knowing context or believe BTS is unique in ways they aren’t. That’s specifically what fans I speak about. Obviously it’s in part love; when I’m having a bad day I have a BTS pick me up playlist and I actually keep BTS songs for special occasions so I don’t get tired of them, because it’s so special to me. No other group I treat like that.

4. Buuuuut. I think the One True Group idea perpetuates this behavior. I think Army and Blinks tend to be the worst, and not just because they’re big because other big name groups have better behaved fans, but because they tend to have a lot of the one group superiority complex.

5. So my opinion that you should explore beyond your favorites IF you want to involve yourself in kpop spaces.

6. Oh, and I didn’t mean that at you. I already knew your stance on others groups as a been there didn’t like it. My problem is with superiority complex’s stans have without looking past BTS ever.

7. I concede Jackson was a bad example, Blow is just my fav song of the year so far.

Anyways this is getting too long, I’m stoked about the anthology album even though they denied us Ddaeng. :/

This came out as a cocky, sarcastic and ironically with a hint of a superiority complex. You're a better fan because you like several groups and are in several fandoms. Let's have a party. I'll post this ask out of politeness but I think this conversation ends here. Anon, if I don't want to talk about tkkrs, I just don't do it. I just have to say that you, whoever is reading this can like 1 or a thousand groups. You can be a fan of BTS only or them and 5 other groups. That doesn't make you better or worse, it just makes you a person with a varied taste in music and maybe content in general. Anon, it's true that many fans have problems, extreme and biased opinions about many things. Many fans think they are superior because BTS is on top and that feeling of superiority makes them be stupid and say stupid things but that doesn't mean being a fan of just one group is bad. And that's basically what you said. You multi fans have a lot of problems too, some of you are "fans" of bts but are upset that your other favs don't earn what bts earn or don't have what bts has. "It's not fair for bts to win again, I'm a fan of them too but X group deserved it more" I've read more than one multi fan say. That doesn't sound good either.

People can like and be fans of whoever they want.

If they don't want to listen to other groups, that's their problem, they may be the ones missing out. But it's THEM. I don't understand how that's YOUR problem or anyone else's problem.

#anon #ask #bts #other kpop groups #kpoppies #bts army

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quickspinner · 3 years ago

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Ruin It

Another one for the @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers sprint challenge! The prompt was:

Person A: Listen I don’t want to ruin our friendship but I really want to kiss y-- Person B: Ruin it

The challenge rules are 3 15-minute writing sprints and 24 hours to edit. I took a little extra editing time because it was late by the time I finished and I didn't want to do anything stupid for lack of sleep. Also, I sprinted everything from the phrase "Ruin It" onwards and then ended up adding a ridiculous number of words to put together the setup at the beginning as part of my "editing" phase and effectively doubled the length of what I originally sprinted. Hopefully it's not too complicated. I'm trying to re-embrace the thought that sprint fics don't have to complicated or polished; I've let myself get hung up on some things in the last few challenges, so this week was about just letting go.

ANYWAY I had sort of a childhood friends to lovers thought in mind as I wrote this, and I hope you enjoy! You can also check out the sprint challenge AO3 collection here to read this and other works.

“I’ve always wanted to do that,” Marinette said enviously, watching a group of kids run along the top of the short stone wall framing the park.

“Why haven’t you?” Luka asked. “It’s not very high.” He gestured to where the wall ended in graduated steps down to the ground. “Wouldn’t be hard to get up on it, either.”

She gave him a look. “Because I’m a grown-up.”

Luka snorted. “Says who?” A woman some distance from them called out “Lunch!” and kids jumped off the wall, cheering as they ran off. Luka grinned and took her hand, tugging her up off the blanket they’d been sitting on. “Come on.”

“Luka!” she laughed, but didn’t resist as he towed her to the wall. “What if a patrol sees us?”

“What are they going to do, fine us?” Luka rolled his eyes, and flashed her a wicked grin that she somehow felt in her bones. “They can put it on my tab.” He held Marinette’s hand as she stepped up on the low part of the wall, and then he walked alongside it as she stepped up to the next highest piece, and then the next, raising his hand at every level to keep hold of hers. The wall was only about waist-height on Luka, but it felt huge to Marinette, standing on top of it. She giggled as she looked down at him. “Now you know how I feel walking next to you,” she teased.

“Enjoy it while it lasts,” Luka laughed. When they reached a place where the wall dead-ended into the higher terrace beyond, Marinette carefully turned around, making sure to get a grip on Luka with her other hand before she let go with the one he’d been holding. The wall might not be all that high, but she had a habit of getting distracted at just the wrong moment, and no fall was better than even a short fall. With her luck, even a short fall would be dangerous.

Not that she was worried. Luka never let her fall. She gave him Luka a quick smile to let her know she was ready, and they began the walk back to the end with the graduated steps. “How do they expect kids not to climb on a wall when they make it this easy?” she asked, looking down at Luka with a laugh.

Marinette had just taken the first step down when some yelling boys startled a flock of pigeons, sending them hurtling right towards the wall in their flight to higher ground. Startled, Marinette overbalanced, and with a yelp she began to topple, but Luka was already there, arms around her waist, half catching, half lifting her off the wall. Her flailing arms wrapped around his neck automatically and she clung to him for a heart-stopping moment where she thought they would both go over, but Luka’s grip on her was firm and his stance rock-solid.

“You okay?” he asked, amusement in his voice.

“Yeah,” she said into his hair, embarrassed. “Sorry.”

Luka gave a quiet huff of amusement, head tilted back to look up at her, and Marinette pouted down at him. “Are you going to put me down?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Luka grinned. “Maybe I won’t. Maybe you’re safer like this.”

She was tempted to kick him, but her dangling feet were level with his knees, rather than his shins, and she was afraid of hurting him. His grin widened at her predicament, but his eyes were full of affection, and she forgave him for laughing at her. She couldn’t help it. She wasn’t going to let him get away with it though. She just...needed a credible threat. Her frustration must have showed on her face because his breath fanned over his face as he laughed silently. Her eyes flicked down to his lips.

“Put me down or I’ll kiss you,” she threatened. “Then our friendship will be ruined forever and you’ll regret everything.”

Luka’s eyes widened, and he immediately set her feet on the ground. Her grin of triumph faded at the look on his face. “That’s not funny, Marinette,” he muttered, ducking out of her arms and taking a few steps away.

Marinette blinked, and then bit her lip. “Sorry. Sorry, that was stupid.” She wrapped her arms around herself and backed up, sitting down on one of the lower steps of the wall. “Luka, I didn’t mean it. I wouldn’t be that stupid.”

For a moment, he said nothing. Marinette sat miserably waiting for him to work through whatever he was thinking about, calling herself ten kinds of idiot in her head.

“Is that…” Her head jerked up as he spoke, but his back was still to her, and he seemed to be struggling to get the words out. “Is that something you think about?”

Marinette frowned. “What?”

“Kissing me,” he clarified, without turning. “Ruining our friendship?”

“Oh.” Marinette felt heat rush into her cheeks. She was really in it now. How could she have let that slip? “Well...sometimes, yeah. I know it’s stupid, you haven’t seen me that way since we were kids, and I don’t want to ever screw up our friendship. Just—” Just what? How could she admit to him that sometimes the light caught the angles of his face just right, and she couldn’t take her eyes off him. That sometimes he would catch her staring and his lips would curve in a questioning smile and she couldn’t think about anything else for days afterwards. How could she admit even a fraction of what she felt for him, without making things weird?

Weird- er . She’d already managed weird. Damn it.

“Just?” he prompted.

Marinette squirmed uncomfortably. “It’s not a big deal. Just, sometimes I think about kissing you. And then I think what a stupid idea it is and I know you haven’t seen me that way since we were kids, and I’d never actually do it because it would ruin every—”

Luka turned around and took a quick step towards her. “Ruin it.”

Marinette blinked. “Wh-what?”

“Ruin it,” Luka repeated, taking another step. “Do it. If tearing down what we have means building something new with you then give me the fucking hammer and let’s go.”

Marinette stared at him, hardly believing what she was hearing. “You’d...you’d give up everything we have,” she said, tone going accusing. “For a kiss?”

“No,” he said, kneeling in front of her to take her hands. “I’d give up everything we have for a chance. What do we have, Marinette, that can’t be made better? If you want to kiss me, and I want to kiss you, if we both want more than what we have, then why shouldn’t we try?”

“Because—” Marinette floundered. “Because what if it all went wrong, and then we couldn’t—couldn’t talk to each other anymore, and, and we’d be—” She frowned. “Wait, you want to kiss me?”

“Every damn day,” he told her earnestly. “Every time you eat a macaroon or steal my coffee or laugh or pout or—pretty much anything, really.”

Oh shit , she thought, taking in the tight lines of his face, the steady, intense gaze of his eyes. He’s serious . “But…” Marinette’s head whirled. “But—Luka, what if—If everything went wrong—I wouldn’t have anyone to—what would I do without you, Luka?” she practically wailed.

“What if you never had to find out?” he asked, reaching up to cradle her face with one hand. “What if it didn’t go wrong, Marinette? What if I could love you without holding back? What if we weren’t spending so much energy trying not to want each other? Is that what’s been holding you back, all this time? As if you could ever lose me, after all we’ve been through.”

Marinette stared at him, speechless. Of course he knew , she thought numbly. It was Luka. But she didn’t know, or didn’t let herself know that she knew, and her reality was reeling.

Luka let his hand fall from her face, and wrapped both of his hands around hers instead, his voice soft and coaxing and full of a hope that made her ache. “Ruin it, Marinette. We’ll make something new out of it. It might not be the same, but I’ve seen the things you create and I’m not afraid. Whatever we become, it’ll be something we made together. How could something like that be bad?” He took a breath, and looked up at her. His hands were shaking, she realized. “So ruin it.” He grinned. “Hell, ruin me , I don’t mind. I love being your friend, but...I want to see what else we can make together.”

She’d never seen his eyes like this, she thought numbly as she stared back at him. She thought she knew him so well, just like he knew her. She’d never been able to read him the way he read her, but she thought...she thought she knew him. She didn’t know this , the intensity, the pleading, the...desperation. She didn’t know this part of him. The part that wanted . Luka didn’t crave things. Luka let things come and go, he didn’t get worked up over things. Luka was willing to take what you gave him and be content. Luka was a passionate person, sure, but not ambitious. He didn’t want things.

He wanted her. This was the first time that she’d ever seen how much...that he’d let her see how much. She should have been frightened, she thought. It should have scared her to see him looking at her with so much earnestness. It was terrifying, when it was anybody else.

But this was Luka, and how could she be scared of Luka? How could she, when he’d finally dared to ask for what he wanted? Not because he couldn’t stand it any longer but because she had finally admitted, to him and to herself, that she wanted it too.

Just like that she knew she had passed the boundary whether she meant to or not. She would break Luka’s heart in this moment if she refused him, and her own in the process. Their friendship wouldn’t be the same after this. They would have to make something new, one way or another. She could turn him down, and hope that the awkward would pass over time. Hope that he could forgive her for being a coward.

But…

She thought she knew him, but now she could see how much he was holding back. She wanted that secret knowledge of him, the part of himself he kept hidden away. She wanted his secret passions and his dreams and the things he treasured up in his heart. Not to take, but to receive, to be given freely, to earn each one with the steadiness of her...love.

Love.

Marinette looked down at their hands in her lap. Slowly she moved her hands so that they were clasping his. He was silent now, waiting. How long had he been waiting for her? When she leaned forward, Luka closed his eyes and tilted his head to meet her, but he didn’t move beyond that until her lips pressed, trembling and tentative, into his. Only then did he move with her, press into her, his hands tightening on hers so hard it almost hurt. She moved his hands to her hips and then carded her own fingers through his hair as they kissed and kissed again.

She loved him, and she was terrified as she finally let herself realize how much, but…this was Luka.

Luka never let her fall.

Fiction Master Post

#quickspins #quicksprints #lukanette #endgame lukanette #lukanette endgame #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #miraculousladybug #miraculous ladybug #pro lukamari

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miraculouscontent · 3 years ago

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Didn’t Need Burrow (July 20th-August 2nd)

Anonymous asked:

Didn't Need Burrow: Tikki's stance on the prospect of The Reveal is abruptly reversed and/or retconned so that she's completely in favor of Marinette telling Chat Noir her secret identity. Bonus if she doesn't tell her this until AFTER some Drama Bomb has dropped, with Mari getting lectured for not reading her damned mind/'taking initiative'/figuring out before now that everything is always her fault, always and forever, because she's not P-E-R-F-E-C-T.

omg

I’m reminded of “Lady Wifi” with Tikki asking Marinette if she’s sure about not telling Chat her identity, and also “Sentibubbler” where Tikki was perfectly fine with Alya knowing.

Like?????

Anonymous asked:

Didn't Need Burrow: Something that comes as a devastating blow for Marinette mildly inconveniences Adrien. Naturally, HIS reaction to whatever it is gets played in all seriousness while HERS is glossed over/mined for humor/she's shamed for the grievous sin of having an EMOTIONAL REACTION instead of being Tikki's perfect little flawless automation.

Well, obviously his issues are worse! Look how sad he is!!

Look how SAD!!

Anonymous asked:

Didn't Need Burrow: Tikki lectures Marinette for putting Too Much Responsibility on Chat Noir's shoulders. This is possibly passed off as how she should KNOW that PLAGG is Unreliable, as opposed to *Chat Noir* being Unreliable. Bonus: this is coupled with how she should TRUST Chat Noir more... just not, you know, with actual RESPONSIBILITIES or anything.

I’m like, laughing but also seething, because just the double standard of “YOU SHOULD TRUST HIM... but don’t put more on his shoulders, he’s going through so much!!”

“Bonus” if it’s a “Marinette, it’s all your fault!! You don’t know what Chat goes through!!!” despite how she literally can’t.

emikogale asked:

I don't need a burrow to know that the season 4 finale is probably going to have some forced drama and cheap shock value.

is it time to pull Reverse Love Square

is it

Anonymous asked:

Didn't Need Burrow: It's explicitly stated that Plagg is meant to be 'teaching Adrien' how to be more selfish (or 'independent'), because cats are stereotypically selfish/independent creatures, and Adrien obviously NEEDS to know that it's okay for HIM to be selfish.

Deep breaths, Clarity.

Deep breaths.

Anonymous asked:

Didn't Need Burrow: Marinette's trauma from Chat Blanc will be treated as a *good thing*, as she is told that she SHOULD feel guilty and that this should motivate her to be more honest with her partner, despite all evidence to the contrary. If she took 'the wrong lesson' from this, then it's her own fault, clearly!

What’s the phrase? “What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger”?

Naturally though, Adrien will be exempt from this and will be told that he deserves better and shouldn’t take this.

Anonymous asked:

Don't need to burrow: Luka/Kagami will never get a magical charm or have a scene where they break their akumazations. If we do get that scene, for Luka he will most likely break it off for his family or to another love interest like Zoé. (I can see the show frame it as a lesson to Marinette like "You see Marinette, Luka can break it off if you told him the truth in the first place. But no, he prefers Zoé since she's more honest than you". For Kagami, it'll be mostly be off screen and ignored.

Zoeka: *exists*

all of us: oh god

Anonymous asked:

Didn't Need Burrow: Once Alya inevitably screws up in a way that Tikki can't gloss over, Tikki will berate Marinette for going against THE RULES and make everything out to be All Her Fault, while acting as though she NEVER supported the idea of Alya knowing.

It’s times like these where I wish we could double up on Didn’t Need Burrows, but then we’d have like, a card’s worth of doubling up, lol.

Anonymous asked:

Didn't Need Burrow: Adrien/Chat Noir actively sabotages one of Ladybug/Rena/the other heroes' plans in order to prove that 'they still need him'. Marinette/Ladybug takes all the blame for the fallout.

Of course she does.

Marinette, you need to TAKE CHARGE!!

Anonymous asked:

Don't Need a Burrow: Chat Blanc Sentimonster

It won’t happen, but I just got an awful thought of Chat Blanc and Sentibug returning at the same time.

Anonymous asked:

Don't Need a Burrow: We will have even more Akumatized Villain/Sentimonster pairs which are rehash of Reflekta/Reflekdoll situation.

“Bonus” if the sentimonster barely matches the akuma’s original role. Like Reflekdoll VS Guiltrip.

Anonymous asked:

Didn't Need Burrow: Adrien/Chat Noir will start secretly destroying the Anti-Akuma Charms so that people can keep getting victimized, providing more chances for him to see Ladybug. Marinette will blame herself, thinking she made them improperly/incorrectly somehow.

And even once it comes out, Marinette will forgive him and insists that it’s her fault for not “considering his feelings” and how she “should’ve made the charms stronger.”

Anonymous asked:

Theory that could be DNB I guess: The REAL Adrien is in a coma/dead and OUR Adrien is a senti that his mother created to be the “perfect” replacement goldfish son. Real Adrien is in some treatment facility in Tibet (if alive) and Gabriel and Emilie found their miraculous shortly thereafter.

FDKJGKFDGf

Okay, this ask wins for “Didn’t Need Burrow that made me laugh most.”

“Perfect replacement goldfish son,” oh my gosh, it’s beautiful.

Anonymous asked:

DNB: When Maribug gets akumatised, Renalya and Adrichat have the "knights in shining armor" to save the "damsel in distress". Maribug is eventually blamed for getting akumatised in the first place while Renalya and Adrichat get off scot-free :)

Real talk, one of the only akuma I can think of who were “blamed” for the akumatizations was Markov (since Max debated turning him back on even though he himself has gotten akumatized before). Does that put Marinette on the same level as a robot, expected to follow orders to a tee?

Anonymous asked:

DNB: Marinette gets Yet More Lessons about how she shouldn't be selfish and must always put others ahead of herself, no matter how much she suffers as a result. Adrien, meanwhile, is 'taught' to put himself first. Bonus: one episode combines the lessons, AND we're shown how Adrien already KNOWS how to be selfish and is OPENLY SO as Chat Noir, yet his misbehavior is presented as Good while Maribug is punished for being imperfect, as always.

Thanks, I hate it, take it away.

Anonymous asked:

DNB: In a Shocking Twist on the Senti!Adrien theory, Gabriel MAKES a Senti!Adrien to replace his own son. The REAL Adrien winds up locked up and/or running away, and much Angstrese is had. Bonus if this leads to Reversed LSBS: Senti!Adrien shows polite interest in Marinette because Gabriel still wants to akumatize her, damnit, while Ladybug notices that Chat Noir seems stressed and reaches out to him, only to be rebuked because he's still a selfish little creep who hates her having secrets.

The fact that Gabriel has never taken advantage of Marinette’s crush despite knowing that she’s crushing on Adrien (”Chat Blanc” doesn’t count) is weird to me. If he was after her in “Ladybug” then why not take advantage of it?

...Wait, is SentiAdrien going to cause reverse love square because “Adrien would never make Marinette fall out of love for him because he’s perfect so it has to be a misunderstanding”?

oh no

Anonymous asked:

DNB: Shadowmoth makes a Senti!Adrien for some stupid reason or another. Like Sentibug before him, Marinette tries to save him upon realizing the truth, and is hit hard by the inevitable loss. Fandumb naturally SLAUGHTERS her for it, insisting that she would have gladly replaced the REAL Adrien with the fake, much like how Adrien/Chat Noir preferred Sentibug to Ladybug. Bonus if Alya/Tikki/others reinforce that mentality by accusing Marinette of the same thing themselves.

I don’t know which of these two SentiAdriens DNBs are worse.

Anonymous asked:

DNB: The difficulty of using multiple Miraculi at once is retconned so that the REAL issue is how well the kwami get along. Marinette learns this the hard way when Tikki gets into a jealous snit-fit with one of the other kwami, and they refuse to work with each other in a joint transformation. Naturally, it falls upon Marinette to help them reconcile, as she's blamed for whatever sparked off the argument in the first place. Because of course she is.

*sigh*

Anonymous asked:

DNB: Marinette has a full-fledged breakdown over all her responsibilities piling up on top of the guilt complex she's naturally developed from being blamed for everything that goes wrong. At best, she gets a pithy line or two about others 'completely supporting' and 'believing' in her before she's forced to get back up, still staggering under the weight; at worst, she's guilt-tripped for having the breakdown, because HOW DARE she be HUMAN, am I right?!

Just the idea of it being said already that teens aren’t meant to be guardian/hold miraculouses and then Marinette being chided for “not doing a good job” is just--

ugh.

Anonymous asked:

DNB: Adrien outright admits that he hates Ladybug having other allies, complaining that things were so much better when it was just him and 'his lady' against the world, without even the Guardian's support. His whining is treated as sympathetic, even if he outright states that he wishes she was completely dependent upon him and didn't have anyone else to turn to.

tbh this is the only reason we don’t have permanent heroes; because Chat wouldn’t have his private time with Ladybug to flirt.

I can’t be convinced otherwise.

Anonymous asked:

DNB: Chat Noir's jealousy of Rena spurs an outburst from him that forcibly reminds Ladybug of Chat Blanc. The trauma response this triggers is naturally used *against* her, played as Marinette's Latest Mistake. Since her trauma is CLEARLY her own fault, and she's GOT to learn how to cOnTrOl HeR eMoTiOnS while Adrien can throw Cataclysmic hissy fits to his heart's content.

Honestly, even if they didn’t do this specifically, I could also see Marinette being blamed for “being afraid of Chat Noir/Blanc” when she “doesn’t even know what happened.”

Basically, her “““blaming”““ Chat or “““reacting to him”““ for something he “““didn’t even do.”““

Anonymous asked:

DNB: 'Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought them back.' Much like the old nursery rhyme, Adrien's insistence that he DESERVES to know everything he wants to stick his nose into 'kills' any pretense of Chat Noir being heroic as he turns on/abandons Team Miraculous. Marinette/Ladybug is forced to cater to his whims in order to 'satisfy' him enough that he comes back.

Seems fair. :|

Anonymous asked:

DNB: Adrien/Chat Noir inflicts physical damage on somebody/something that is NOT magically wiped away/restored by his partner's Cure. This inconsistency exists purely to blame Ladybug for the consequences of HIS actions. Possibly with a side of Angstrien (provided they have him actually act like he *gives a damn* about what he's done).

I think that’s a pretty common trope in fics too; Ladybug being worried that Miraculous Ladybug won’t bring something back.

So yet another thing taken from the fandom.

Anonymous asked:

DNB: When Marinette finds out about Alya betraying her faith in her yet again, Alya bleats that she didn't explicitly SAY that she couldn't tell Nino, only that she trusted her, which she took to mean that she 'trusts her judgment'. In other words, Alya blames her *deliberately ignoring Marinette's wishes* on her 'bestie'. Bonus if Marinette subsequently TRIES spelling things out more only for Alya to complain about her being too 'pushy'/'controlling'/not leaving her that wiggle room.

“Girl, I told you to trust me, because I know that there won’t be any consequences to this!”

Anonymous asked:

DNB: Alya discovers Adrien's secret identity. Rather than telling/warning Marinette, however, she either spills the beans to him or schemes to get them together/force a reveal, believing that this will 'magically solve everything'. The show acts as though she's entirely justified in jerking Marinette around, pretending it's *hilarious* for her to add to her BFF's misery with her plotting behind her back.

Obviously this is all for Marinette’s sake so it’s fine.

Anonymous asked:

Didn't Need Burrow: Adrien will FINALLY learn/figure out that Marinette made his scarf... and be heartbroken that SHE lied to him about it.

Marinette, how could you possibly let Adrien believe that his father did something nice for him to make him happy! You let him live a lie!!

Anonymous asked:

Don't Need a Burrow: Mister Rat Sentimonster

I will only accept this if Xavier Ramier saves the day somehow.

Anonymous asked:

DNB: Chat Noir will confront Ladybug directly about 'replacing him with Rena', whining about how HE'S her partner, not HER. No matter how much she tries reassuring him/strokes his ego to calm him down, Adrien remains pissy about it. Bonus if this blow-up happens during an akuma attack/other crisis, and Marinette is presented as unreasonable for wanting to focus on the bigger problem at hand. Screw the civilians, what about Chat's pOoR fEeLiNgS~?

What about THE DYNAMIC, Marinette?????

Anonymous asked:

Didn't Need Burrow: Gabriel's grousing about how Ladybug 'never makes mistakes' foreshadows an inevitable moment where, after gaining a major advantage thanks to somebody else's screw-up, he gloats that Ladybug has finally made a major tactical error.

...They would.

They absolutely would.

Anonymous asked:

DNB: Gabriel will exploit his son's gross sense of entitlement towards 'his lady' by convincing Adrien that Ladybug has neglected him more than HE has, what with the whole 'wanting to have a say in her own love life/rejected his unwanted advances/begging him to take things seriously rather than treating superheroics as a game'. Adrien laps this tripe up like cream to soothe his ever so precious ego.

Which makes Shadow Moth out to be a decent manipulator but continues to make the love square look bad.

Anonymous asked:

Didn't Need Burrow: Adrien will be responsible for exposing the fact that Alya still has the Fox Miraculous to Gabriel. This could be by telling him directly during a face-heel turn, or simply because he's careless with that information (such as confronting Ladybug about Rena during an akuma attack/while Hawk/Shadowmoth is in a position to overhear).

I presume Ladybug is to blame for this for ever giving Alya and Nino a miraculous at the same time (when her hand was forced) in the first place.

Anonymous asked:

DNB: Chat Noir straight-up *assaults* Alya out of jealousy over Ladybug trusting her more/'replacing him' with Rena. This may involve Cataclysm, and she may or *may not* be transformed at the time. Bonus if this happens *BEFORE* or *WITHOUT* him switching sides to join Hawk/Shadowmoth, and is purely about him *getting her out of the way*, possibly with the paper-thin excuse of wanting to 'prove himself' without her being around to 'screw him up' or 'steal his glory'.

I’d like to say that this isn’t likely, but he’s already been driven to property destruction soooooo--

Anonymous asked:

DNB: After investing so much time and effort into building Alya up as this incredible individual who absolutely deserves Marinette's trust despite doing nothing to earn it or her preternatural skill with Guardian-related tasks, she will abruptly lose all competence in order to 'prove' that Adrien is naturally better than her and that HE is Ladybug's 'only TRUE partner'.

Or Alya telling Nino comes out and in comes Chat with “I would never keep things from you, m’lady!!!”

Meanwhile, fandom having “Chat Blanc” flashbacks.

Anonymous asked:

DNB: The series ends with Adrien selling the in-universe version of Astruc the rights to tell their story, with the clear implication that everything we just watched is the end result. Meaning that Marinette gets to be humiliated by her adventures being 'recreated' in precisely the form we've seen, every episode cheerfully depicting her as a constant screw-up who got blamed for EVERYTHING that went wrong. Because why should she get to have any kind of positive self-image, right? GIRL POWER!

Oh my gosh, they would.

Anonymous asked:

Didn't need burrow: In Crocodues, Luka will fully be over Marinette and act like a friend while Marinette might still have feelings and is super awkward around him, highlighting how Marinette (or girls in general) has poor control over her emotions unlike Luka (er boys in gerenal).

Still waiting for reverse love square where Marinette is over Adrien but Luka is no longer an option so guess she has to go for Chat.

...Does that make Chat a rebound?

Anonymous asked:

Didn't Need Burrow: One or more of the kwami outright admit that yeah, no, they simply don't respect Marinette at all. Due to her youth, inexperience, lack of training, or maybe just because they can get away with treating her like shit and acting like a spoiled brat. Naturally, this is treated as entirely HER fault. Bonus if she TRIES to lay down the law with them and is promptly villainized for it. Maybe even compared to Hawk/Shadowmoth.

Completely understandable, of course. They’re just so used to people who are older and wiser and professional--

Anonymous asked:

Don't Need a Burrow: Mass of episodes fleshing out Luka, since Lukanette is out of picture now. (Bonus points if Anti Lukanette people will make posts saying that fleshing out Luka would be impossible without breaking Lukanette first)

“Wishmaker” will probably do this. I can’t see them giving Luka anymore screentime than the three episodes he should be “grateful” for. (”Truth,” “Crocoduel,” and “Wishmaker”)

Anonymous asked:

Don't Need to Burrow (Wishmaker)

The episode will be a mixture of Hearthunter and Frozer. There will be a Luka/Mari/Adri moments throughout the episode. And as the episode ends, Marinette will look at Adrien and Luka will be sad and say you should go to him to which she does. Thus making...the Lukanette ship...sighs...dead.

I’m blown away by this idea of the person who is arguably most “deserving” of a warm and loving relationship not getting one (or getting a “second choice” with Zoe for example) while characters who clearly aren’t ready to be in a relationship get all the attention.

Anyone wanna take a guess on which “nice guy” writer lost a girlfriend to an actually nice guy and is still salty about it to this day?

Anonymous asked:

Don't need to Burrow Wishmaker

Luka will play a song on his violin that represents the love square, it will be be so beautiful that Mari and Adrien will be in awe together when in reality its just the Spongebob sad violin music.

I can also see violin scratching for it as well.

I choked on my drink.

Anonymous asked:

Don't need to Burrow (Wishmaker)

This episode will either be the Lukanette vs Adrienette feud or it will show us all these crazy shipping scenarios from LS to Lukanette to LukaAdri. It will give the fans what they wanted but ended the ships in a nightmare.

Psst....you can tell by the icecream symbolism

Ugh, I’m dreading the idea of it being an episode about these repeated scenarios and then having to go back or whatever. Viperion’s there so maybe him witnessing them and then having to go back.

tc-leo asked:

Don't need to Burrow

Luka will basically lead Adrien and Marinette down the Love Square endgame path through his violin playing.

This would be the second time they forced Luka to play for the love square.

I swear to several lords--

tc-leo asked:

Don't Need to Burrow to know that in Wishmaker, the scene of Adrien in the middle while a closeup of Luka and Mari holding hands represents the end of Lukanette.

“““plot twist,”““ the writers say, while we sip our tea going, “you really think you can still bait us?”

Anonymous asked:

Didn't need burrow: Wishmaker will be the Heart Hunter of Lukanette. As in Luka and Marinette have Adrien third wheel them and it's actually cute and stuff. Optimistic I know but that's what it looked like in the trailer.

Your optimism is adorable and I appreciate it even if I’ve been burned too many times to be lured in by it.

Anonymous asked:

DNB: Juleka reveals a deep-rooted resentment towards Marinette for 'breaking her brother's heart'. This bottled-up anger fuels a call out where she rants about how she never deserved Luka, tossing out accusations that Mari can only weakly deny, since Everything Is Always Her Fault and She Deserves To Suffer. Juleka going off is presented as a positive thing since she's sharing her true feelings; meanwhile, Marinette has to bottle HERS up even more and absorb the abuse, apologizing to her/Luka.

show: *continuously pressures and pushes Marinette towards Adrien*

also show: *blames Marinette for being into Adrien*

Anonymous asked:

DNB: That teaser picture Gloob released that had Marinette looking at Luka wasn’t actually a Lukanette scene! It was actually taken right after Luka told Marinette about how he’s dating Zoe and is happy now. Marinette is smiling to show her support and totally not because the writers took away her ability to feel love for any character other than Adrien! 🙃 (Also Luka had the obligatory “You two are made for each other” line, because the show is going to forget how much he loved her and force him to move on with a character who was only in three other episodes 🤦)

Even if Zoeka doesn’t happen in 4 and 5, it probably will in 6 and 7 considering that it’s “post-series” or whatever and they wouldn’t know what else to do with him.

Anonymous asked:

Dnb: In Crocoduel, Luka figures out Marinette's secret identity but doesn't tell her (so the writers can justify he is a crappy bf). In Wishmaker, he finds out about Adrien's secret identity, has tge realization that they are into each other and goes "Marinette I live you but you and Adrien are meant to be so bye"

The lack of self-awareness in ignoring that Adrien also didn’t tell Marinette.

Anonymous asked:

Don't need to Burrow

We will find out that Wishmaker will show Adrien's wish which is to confess his identity/love to LB which results in Luka/Viperion finding out and keep using Second Chance/self sacrifice himself. If it was Marinette's case, Luka (whether or not he knows her secret identity) will find out her wish is to confess her identity/love to Adrien and he would use Second Chance/sacrifice to prevent that. He'll also find out that part of Mari's wish is she might not want to have a future with him and consider him as a second option. Realizing both of their identities as LB/CN and how dangerous their wishes are, Luka will do everything in his power to prevent that from happening.

Once the day is saved, Luka will pretty much tell Mari its best not to continue and stay friends. He'll either be sad that Mari don't like him that way anymore or scared of Mari finding out that he knows both of their identities.

Oh and the morality of the episode for Marinette is it's okay if you don't know what to do if life. It's best to not know and just live with it.

wow thanks i hate all of it

Anonymous asked:

Dnb: lukanette angst in crocoduel doesn’t make sense to happen now so it only shows up now to provide trouble for Marinette, akuma, or extra drama juleka for no reason

So the usual.

May I just point out that Juleka has now run away anxiously two episodes in a row now since “Guiltrip” is the episode before this in procode?

#((I keep forgetting how long it takes to reply to all of these lol but I adore them lol.))#category: salt #Didn't Need Burrow #other: ask and answer

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s1utspeare · 4 years ago

Note

to the writing challenge prompt list: liu sang (you guessed it!) and liberosis 👀 bc what else would I want other than PainTM

oooohhhh Vishie you do know the way to a girl’s heart (in reference to this post; send me some prompts!!)

liberosis—the desire to care less about things

It’s a long way down the mountain.

The only blessing is that the pain is less. Sure, the world is sweeping in great, broad strokes underneath his feet, and there’s a ringing in his head that’s louder than anything he’s heard before, but it doesn’t hurt, per say. At least not physically.

Their little caravan goes something like this; Wu Xie is carrying Jia Kezi, as Wu Xie is now, irony of all ironies, healthier than pretty much all of them put together, except for maybe Ouxiang, who is currently helping Pangzi hop along. The big man is talking loudly to his two best friends, probably to distract himself from the pain of a compound leg fracture. Occasionally, Wu Xie will put a hand out to keep Pangzi upright, the three of them molded together once again, as they should be.

Hei Xiazi plods along behind them. He’d volunteered to carrying Jia Kezi himself, but he’s currently got a bullet floating in his abdomen, so Wu Xie had declined his offer. Despite this, Hei-ye seems relatively okay, which is probably due to his strange superhumanness, though his face is somber, pale. Li Jiale is a few steps behind him, which Liu Sang privately thinks is a bit funny; blind, mute, and now deaf. What a group they are.

(It’s not funny, actually. He doesn’t know why he said that.)

Liu Sang and Bai Haotian are bringing up the rear, due to being the shortest and, as much as he’s loathe to admit it, the weakest. Bai Haotian seems to have decided that she’s his personal bodyguard now, which confuses him a lot, because in any other circumstances, he would be protecting her. But ever since... well, since, she’s taken a stance next to him like a sentinel, and even glared at Wu Xie once when he approached too quickly and Liu Sang flinched because he couldn’t hear him coming.

Yeah. He couldn’t hear him coming. Fuck.

If he wasn’t so tired, he’d probably be in the middle of a full-blown panic attack, which he has a feeling will be coming later. He’s... there’s a lot going on, in his brain, underneath the ringing and the migraine that’s been pounding steadily against his skull since he took on a headful of dynamite, because, surprise, losing your hearing doesn’t automatically get rid of the pain you already did to your brain before your eardrums ruptured. So there’s still a tattoo beat behind his eyes and clawing at the back of his neck, and he kind of wants to shake his head, pound on the side until he stops feeling like there’s bugs crawling around under his skin.

That had not been a pleasant experience. At all. A soft buzz, and then, before he could react, the sharp pinch of something that shouldn’t be there, carving into his ears and rooting around inside. He doesn’t remember collapsing on Pangzi, doesn’t even know why he did, really, except for that his body sensed an intruder and went into full lockdown mode. The phantom sensation of legs and wings brushing along his ear canal makes him shiver, and he can’t help it, he jerks his neck to the side, trying to fling the feeling far away.

His balance has turned to shit, though, because two perforated eardrums mean that your inner gravitational sensory system is fucked, so the movement ends up over-correcting him to the side, where he knocks into Bai Haotian’s shoulder and almost sends both of them flying. Luckily for her, though, he’s maybe at a quarter of what his strength should normally be, so she just stumbles a bit, able to keep them both upright.

Sure doesn’t seem like it though. Everything tips on its end, and he finds himself looking at the sky while still on his feet which is a weird sort of view. Also his neck feels like putty. Hm. Maybe he should throw up.

Unfortunately, that doesn’t really solve any of his problems except to make him dizzier, and when his body gets done heaving onto the trail, he finds that someone has sat him down on a large rock and is pressing a cool hand to his forehead. He blinks rapidly, dumbly, at Wu Xie, who is hovering in front of him, and his mouth is moving.

“I don’t know what you’re saying,” Liu Sang tells him. Again. How loud is he talking? He has no idea. His vocal cords vibrate in a way that makes it seem like it’s fairly loud, but he can’t hear. He can’t hear it, he can’t fucking hear—

Oh, yup, here comes the panic.

He pushes Wu Xie away, clumsily, and tries to stand up again, but haha, his balance is actually garbage, so he just pitches forward into someone’s arms, and it’s Wu Xie again because of course it fucking is, why is he still here? He was supposed to leave Liu Sang behind, he was supposed to go, Liu Sang wasn’t supposed to make it out—oh. Oh. He wasn’t supposed to say that, was he?

Wu Xie’s face swims before him, and his mouth is open too wide for normal speech, so he must be shouting, which makes sense, because Liu Sang has just told him a really big secret. But it’s the truth, isn’t it? Wu Xie has to know that.

Liu Sang is supposed to be dead.

He almost wants to laugh, because it seems like the world’s cruelest joke, almost, that they’re all mostly alive. Because fuck. Liu Sang almost had his throat slit, almost had his skull beaten in, almost had a bug eat his brain. And at that point, with Wu Xie sick and drowning in his own lungs and dying, with their chances of survival dwindling down to nothing as they tried to find the right combination of choices to make it to Thunder City, he’d done the calculations. Liu Sang’s not just good hearing and a fake Zhang tattoo; he’s smart. It’s what’s kept him alive. It’s what was going to kill him.

When Pangzi held up the stick of dynamite next to the thunder columns, the calculations went like this:

Wu Xie is dying. The only way he survives is by getting to the Artifact. That’s it.

If Wu Xie dies, Ouxiang and Pangzi are dying. There’s no shape with only two sides.

If Ouxiang and Pangi die, Bai Haotian dies. She’s twenty; she’s fucking twenty years old. She’s not dying in some stupid tomb in the middle of nowhere, alone, by herself.

Maybe Hei-Xiazi makes it out. Maybe. But Mr. Jiao is here, too, and even Hei-ye can’t outrun a firing squad.

Liu Sang is their best weapon, right now. That’s all. He’s always been useful, but right here, right now, this is where he does what he does best. This is where he listens. And if that happens to fuck over Mr. Jiao and Jiang Zisuan and every other fucking person who’s tried to kill them, then sure. Fuck it. It’s as much as he could’ve hoped for.

With only one ear, only one half of his whole, Liu Sang is basically already dead. Might as well make it official.

It’s just math. It’s logical. He was their best hope. Their only hope. You don’t save the bullets in your gun because shooting means they’re gone afterward. You just. You shoot.

He had made his peace with it. He was going to die in that tomb, in the caves, under the ground, alone. He was damaged, and he didn’t know if he would ever be able to work again like he had before. So he turned off the safety. Pulled the trigger. He’d given Wu Xie the rest of everything he had to offer, because somewhere along the way, he realized that he couldn’t bear to see him die.

He told himself that it was for Ouxiang, because Ouxiang would have been devastated without Wu Xie, but there’s some part of him, hidden under layers and layers of thorns, that recognized that losing Wu Xie would devastate Liu Sang, too. He didn’t want to watch that. He didn’t want to listen to that. And if he hadn’t been able to save Wu Xie, in the end, then at least he’d have gone first.

It was selfish, really.

He had pulled away from Wu Xie because he didn’t want to go, not because he couldn’t. He accepted the handful of peanuts from Pangzi with the intention of dropping them as soon as they were out of sight, because his stomach had been rolling too hard to even think of food, and he was so tired, so tired. He was ready. He was dying. He was going to curl up next to a stone wall, just out of sight of anyone who might pass by, and he was going to close his eyes and pretend that he wasn’t alone, wasn’t afraid, and then slowly, slowly, he was going to fall asleep. It would have been nice, he thinks. It would have been okay.

But by some sort of miracle, they’re here, on a mountain path, and Liu Sang is alive and Wu Xie is alive, alive enough to be shouting at him, alive enough to ask, What do you mean? Liu Sang, what do you mean, you weren’t making it out? Liu Sang. Liu Sang.

Liu Sang’s never been good at reading lips, but he knows the shape of his name in Wu Xie’s mouth.

He remembers, then, why he has never fallen in love before.

It’s because it sounds like nothing.

It’s because it hurts.

#dmbj #liu sang #wu xie #the lost tomb #the lost tomb reboot #tlt #tltr #my writing #writing #prompt fill #vish loml #pingsangxie #sort of

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askdracomalfoyofficial · 4 years ago

Text

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮

Note: The paragraphs that are in italic are the thoughts he is thinking —

TW: Mild thoughts of killing her. Swearing. Possession. Nothing to serious, but thought I would put this before-hand. Enjoy!

━━━━━━━━━▼━━━━━━━━━

It all started after I had called you a Mudblood. You see, my father taught me all about blood-status, pure-bloods being the highest form of witch or wizard. Magic comes easy to us, our veins are filled with it. We have control over it. Then theres you, someone who has Muggle parents, making you just that. How you had a outburst of magic is something I'm currently questioning. I can certainly see you being someone who's Drabble around with it, study it in your books.

But my father warned me about people like you. Warned me that your blood is dirty, and anyone whom surrounds themselves around you, or even do much as become friends with you is a blood-traitor.

Anyone under us, we don't care for.

Yet, there was something about you that had always piqued my interest somehow, someway or another. I can't tell you what it is, Granger. But, Merlin… I don't know how you are our Brightest Witch of Her Age became such a thing for a Muggle-born. You and your swatty ways, always raising your bloody hand in class every two, three seconds. Basically… dissecting the answers or things the Professors would teach us. God, how I wished I could cut your hands off, or cast a silencing charm on you so your mouth stops moving, you annoying wrench.

The witch with unruly messy mop on her head. Tame your fucking mane, Granger. Get some tips from Pansy for all I care, maybe then… you'd learn something. But, you're not someone who cares about appearances are you? You're the first girl I know to not. Doesn't surprise me.

He breathes out a sigh.

I bloody fucking hate you. You have no idea. I want to wrap my hands around your throat, and watch the life leave your eyes but not as much as I want to run my fingers through your hair, grab a fistful and yank your head back just to crash my lips onto yours. To make you feel the hate I have for you, to make your lips swollen. To have my tongue vigorously dance with yours, a duel to win. I want to press my lips to your neck, find your pulse and feel it beat against my lips then suck your breath from you. Suffocate in your aroma, to smell your hair and taste the salt of your skin against my tongue.

“For instance… I smell,” she leans her face more over the steam. “Freshly mown grass, and new parchment, and–“ Her words trailed off as she started to realize who it was.

Thinking about it is repulsive, thinking about you, specifically is repulsive. I’m thinking about all this, while you're smelling your Amortentia, and I bet what you're smelling is that daft bimbo, Weaselby.

Ah, the lovely Amortentia. The most powerful love potion that there is. It has a smell for each and every individual according to what attracts them.

Draco adjusts his stance, hands finding a home in the pocket of his trousers. Eyes on her, more so the back of her head, watching while she smells the steam that swirls endlessly up towards her face, and the way her hair grows with the humidity. In a way, it matches the way his had been tousled at his fringe. It looks as if someone had ran their fingers through his own hair and ruffled it up. Hers just looks like straight bed head, yet not taken care of.

His brow raised, looking through his lashes at her.

Weaselby smells like mown grass, well that's quite bloody disgusting. And, you're telling me that's what attracts you?

A scoff slipped out from somewhere in the room, and for a moment he panicked because he knew it came from him the moment Blaise lifted his eyes to look at him with a brow of his own raised. But, Draco's eyes were on the back of her head, which in that moment he regretted because she turned around and automatically met his. Jaw muscles worked as it snapped shut, clenching his teeth together.

Don't look at me like that. Who do you think you are?

Professor Slughorn dismissed the class, he hurried to get his things situated and left the room without so much as a second glance back at his fellow classmates; including her. But he could feel the way that her eyes bored into his back, setting his skin ablaze.

Eventually, Blaise caught up to him. “What was all that back there, mate?”

“What? What do you mean was all that?” He stopped in his tracks, and lifted his eyes to meet Blaise’s but grew uncomfortable and looked away, ah, the stone wall was helping particularly well in this moment.

“Why did you act that way after Granger smelled her Amortenia?”

Merlin! He wasn't going to let this up. Fucking always so observant.

“Because what she smelled was ridiculous.”

“No, what is it really? You can't possibly think I'm that stupid, Draco.” He persisted.

Draco’s eyes gravitated back to him. Jaw tight. “What would you like me to say, Blaise? Is there a specific thing you're expecting me to answer with? Because whatever you're trying to get out of me, isn't there. So, I suggest that you stop while you're ahead.” Was what he left the conversation with.

Blaise, if I told you anything, you'd think that I’ve gone bloody mental, shit, I'm beginning to wonder myself if I did.

All through the years I’ve been watching Hermione Granger, bullying her and her friends because I get amusement out of the looks on their faces. How I know that I piss them off, and I'm good at it. There was once a part of me who loved to watch her cry, to bathe in those tears that fell down her cheeks, those very cheeks I want to grab in my hand and attack her jaw with my lips.

Draco shook his head as if he were trying to dismiss the thoughts, dismiss the way he was feeling and thinking as they weren't quite appropriate.

This year was so utterly fucked. I just want it to be over.

He made his way through the corridors, retreating from Blaise and dipping around the corner. He needed some down time, perhaps the library would do some good. Settle down with a book, in a far corner sounded lovely.

An hour gone by, and he'd been so enveloped in multiple books because he couldn't just decide on one and he needed to distract his mind from the interaction with Blaise, and Hermione interfering his thoughts.

But low and behold, she came into the library. Of course! The know-it-all loved to read just as much as he did.

Oh, you got to be fucking kidding me.

Draco rolled his eyes, clenched his jaw tight and pretended to read but every so often his gaze would lift to where she was. She was huffing loudly, even two exasperated sighs left her mouth. His teeth gritted and the muscle in his jaw worked.

After a couple of moments, perhaps five minutes gone by of her continuing with her loud outbursts of breathing, huffs and sighs he had enough of it all. Draco slammed the book shut, picking up the others and went to return them to their slots. When he was done, he approached her. Shouldering the frame of one of the bookshelves.

“Do you need to be so loud? This is a library for a reason.” His voice was cold, like a cool breeze brushing through the space between them. By the looks of it, he could tell that when he spoke that he had startled her.

She turned around mid-way while pulling out a book. Her chocolate-colored eyes lifted to meet his with a glare. Her head tilted to the side, and a retort was just waiting to leave her mouth. Draco had noticed this when he seen her lips twitch.

“Do you wish for me to apologize to you? Because,” she scoffed, crossing her arms with the book over her chest and under one arm. “You won't be getting it.”

“Who said anything about you apologizing?” His brow raised. “It's the fact that you are in a library, being loud with just your breath.”

Hermione looked around them. “Seems to me like we're the only ones in here, Malfoy. So —” she put the book back and moved down the shelf more, opposite of where he was standing. “I don't really see a problem here, you're just always bothered unless it's you doing something someone doesn't like.” She retorted, rather calmly.

How are you always able to handle your composure when around me. Yes — keep going down the aisle, pretty soon you'll be stuck in that corner.

Draco’s jaw snapped, his throat clicked. He hadn't really observed the room when he came in, but she was right about it being empty and the only ones in there being them. What a situation to be in.

“And you breathing loudly happens to be something that I don't like. I wouldn't be standing here right now if otherwise.” A hand slipped from across his chest, as his index finger lifted from the light fist he held, raising it like he were thinking before taking a step closer, slowly. “I am always bothered by you. Your presence is insufferable. Anywhere I go, I always have to see your face, I'm repulsed by it.”

It's true, I am always bothered by you. You are insufferable, but I am sure I could put you into your place; if you'd let me. I may be repulsed by your face, but I can't help but also like looking at it, at those lips —

She laughed manically, like what he said was the most hilarious thing she'd ever heard, or perhaps she had seen right through him. Hermione stopped what she was doing with the books, what book was she trying to find anyways? Her body shifted, feet angled towards him and arms remained crossed over her chest.

“You're the only one who thinks these things, and quite frankly they do not bother me.”

Man, you are bloody stubborn — not as much as I am.

He stepped closer, a hand coming up to grip onto the edge of the shelf. His own height towering over her own, blocking out the library light from her face. They were now sharing each other's exhaled breathes, and he knew she could feel the way his ghosted along her face. She didn't at all seem bothered by his presence now crowding her, backed into the corner of a bookshelf. He was looming over her.

“They don't bother you?” He asked and his tone dripped sarcasm. She shifted uncomfortably. “Do tell me, what does bother you then?”

“Why would that be something you're curious about? Since when did you care about what bothers me or not?”

Draco smirks, his head turning to the side while his eyes fell to the door of the library. Tongue grazing the bottom of his upper teeth. “You're right,” he turned his head back, glaring down through his lashes. “Why would I care? I don't care for someone of the liking of you.”

With that — he leaned down towards her more, for a moment he looked as though he were going to kiss her. But it was just to give a look of intimidation before his weight pressed into the hand that gripped the shelf to push himself off. Hands finding their way back into his trouser pockets.

I fucking hate you. I fucking hate you so much and you already know that don't you, Granger? Because I make it known, it's all over my face whenever you look at me, whenever we run into each-other. I hate you, yet I want to fucking kiss you, I want to do these things to do you that I, when I was younger couldn't see myself doing. Let alone have never done with a witch before besides Pansy, she always knew how to keep my best interests in mind.

I want to have my hands in your hair, tangled in my fingers and watch as your curled locks fall through. I want my hand around your throat possessively, let my thumb graze along your jaw and down the front of your throat like I'm thirsty for you and just want a little taste.

I want to have your clothes pooled at your feet while my eyes roam your naked canvas, I want to take in every scar, beauty mark, freckle. I want to do it all.

I want to trace the pads of my fingers down your spine, to your tailbone and trail them around to your hips.

I want to do so much to you — I want to possess you.

But then I'm reminded just by looking at you that you're a Muggle witch, and I fucking hate you, you're repulsive and insufferable. A know-it-all swat, who just can't keep her fucking mouth shut.

I'm conflicted, my stomach is in knots and this'll be the one thing that takes me to my very grave.

#personal #writers #dramione #dramionestan #dramione fanfic #oneshot #draco malfoy #Hermione granger #harry potter universe #Dramione fandom #my work #I hope you lovely Dramione shippers enjoy #possessive Draco #hateful Draco #toxic Draco #etc etc etc

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whitehotharlots · 3 years ago

Text

The point is control

Whenever we think or talk about censorship, we usually conceptualize it as certain types of speech being somehow disallowed: maybe (rarely) it's made formally illegal by the government, maybe it's banned in certain venues, maybe the FCC will fine you if you broadcast it, maybe your boss will fire you if she learns of it, maybe your friends will stop talking to you if they see what you've written, etc. etc.

This understanding engenders a lot of mostly worthless discussion precisely because it's so broad. Pedants--usually arguing in favor of banning a certain work or idea--will often argue that speech protections only apply to direct, government bans. These bans, when they exist, are fairly narrow and apply only to those rare speech acts in which other people are put in danger by speech (yelling the N-word in a crowded theater, for example). This pedantry isn't correct even within its own terms, however, because plenty of people get in trouble for making threats. The FBI has an entire entrapment program dedicated to getting mentally ill muslims and rednecks to post stuff like "Death 2 the Super bowl!!" on twitter, arresting them, and the doing a press conference about how they heroically saved the world from terrorism.

Another, more recent pedant's trend is claiming that, actually, you do have freedom of speech; you just don't have freedom from the consequences of speech. This logic is eerily dictatorial and ignores the entire purpose of speech protections. Like, even in the history's most repressive regimes, people still technically had freedom of speech but not from consequences. Those leftist kids who the nazis beheaded for speaking out against the war were, by this logic, merely being held accountable.

The two conceptualizations of censorship I described above are, 99% of the time, deployed by people who are arguing in favor of a certain act of censorship but trying to exempt themselves from the moral implications of doing so. Censorship is rad when they get to do it, but they realize such a solipsism seems kinda icky so they need to explain how, actually, they're not censoring anybody, what they're doing is an act of righteous silencing that's a totally different matter. Maybe they associate censorship with groups they don't like, such as nazis or religious zealots. Maybe they have a vague dedication toward Enlightenment principles and don't want to be regarded as incurious dullards. Most typically, they're just afraid of the axe slicing both ways, and they want to make sure that the precedent they're establishing for others will not be applied to themselves.

Anyone who engages with this honestly for more than a few minutes will realize that censorship is much more complicated, especially in regards to its informal and social dimensions. We can all agree that society simply would not function if everyone said whatever they wanted, whenever they wanted. You might think your boss is a moron or your wife's dress doesn't look flattering, but you realize that such tidbits are probably best kept to yourself.

Again, this is a two-way proposition that everyone is seeking to balance. Do you really want people to verbalize every time they dislike or disagree with you? I sure as hell don't. And so, as part of a social compact, we learn to self-censor. Sometimes this is to the detriment of ourselves and our communities. Most often, however, it's just a price we have to pay in order to keep things from collapsing.

But as systems, large and small, grow increasingly more insane and untenable, so do the comportment standards of speech. The disconnect between America's reality and the image Americans have of themselves has never been more plainly obvious, and so striving for situational equanimity is no longer good enough. We can't just pretend cops aren't racist and the economy isn't run by venal retards or that the government places any value on the life of its citizens. There's too much evidence that contradicts all that, and the evidence is too omnipresent. There's too many damn internet videos, and only so many of them can be cast as Russian disinformation. So, sadly, we must abandon our old ways of communicating and embrace instead systems that are even more unstable, repressive, and insane than the ones that were previously in place.

Until very, very recently, nuance and big-picture, balanced thinking were considered signs of seriousness, if not intelligence. Such considerations were always exploited by shitheads to obfuscate things that otherwise would have seemed much less ambiguous, yes, but this fact alone does not mitigate the potential value of such an approach to understanding the world--especially since the stuff that's been offered up to replace it is, by every worthwhile metric, even worse.

So let's not pretend I'm Malcolm Gladwell or some similarly slimy asshole seeking to "both sides" a clearcut moral issue. Let's pretend I am me. Flash back to about a year ago, when there was real, widespread, and sustained support for police reform. Remember that? Seems like forever ago, man, but it was just last year... anyhow, now, remember what happened? Direct, issues-focused attempts to reform policing were knocked down. Blotted out. Instead, we were told two things: 1) we had to repeat the slogan ABOLISH THE POLICE, and 2) we had to say it was actually very good and beautiful and nonviolent and valid when rioters burned down poor neighborhoods.

Now, in a relatively healthy discourse, it might have been possible for someone to say something like "while I agree that American policing is heavily violent and racist and requires substantial reforms, I worry that taking such an absolutist point of demanding abolition and cheering on the destruction of city blocks will be a political non-starter." This statement would have been, in retrospect, 100000000% correct. But could you have said it, in any worthwhile manner? If you had said something along those lines, what would the fallout had been? Would you have lost friends? Your job? Would you have suffered something more minor, like getting yelled at, told your opinion did not matter? Would your acquaintances still now--a year later, after their political project has failed beyond all dispute--would they still defame you in "whisper networks," never quite articulating your verbal sins but nonetheless informing others that you are a dangerous and bad person because one time you tried to tell them how utterly fucking self-destructive they were being? It is undeniably clear that last year's most-elevated voices were demanding not reform but catharsis. I hope they really had fun watching those immigrant-owned bodegas burn down, because that’s it, that will forever be remembered as the most palpable and consequential aspect of their shitty, selfish movement. We ain't reforming shit. Instead, we gave everyone who's already in power a blank check to fortify that power to a degree you and I cannot fully fathom.

But, oh, these people knew what they were doing. They were good little boys and girls. They have been rewarded with near-total control of the national discourse, and they are all either too guilt-ridden or too stupid to realize how badly they played into the hands of the structures they were supposedly trying to upend.

And so left-liberalism is now controlled by people whose worldview is equal parts superficial and incoherent. This was the only possible outcome that would have let the system continue to sustain itself in light of such immense evidence of its unsustainability without resulting in reform, so that's what has happened.

But... okay, let's take a step back. Let's focus on what I wanted to talk about when I started this.

I came across a post today from a young man who claimed that his high school English department head had been removed from his position and had his tenure revoked for refusing to remove three books from classrooms. This was, of course, fallout from the ongoing debate about Critical Race Theory. Two of those books were Marjane Satropi's Persepolis and, oh boy, The Diary of Anne Frank. Fuck. Jesus christ, fuck.

Now, here's the thing... When Persepolis was named, I assumed the bannors were anti-CRT. The graphic novel does not deal with racism all that much, at least not as its discussed contemporarily, but it centers an Iranian girl protagonist and maybe that upset Republican types. But Anne Frank? I'm sorry, but the most likely censors there are liberal identiarians who believe that teaching her diary amounts to centering the suffering of a white woman instead of talking about the One Real Racism, which must always be understood in an American context. The super woke cult group Black Hammer made waves recently with their #FuckAnneFrank campaign... you'd be hard pressed to find anyone associated with the GOP taking a firm stance against the diary since, oh, about 1975 or so.

So which side was it? That doesn't matter. What matters is, I cannot find out.

Now, pro-CRT people always accuse anti-CRT people of not knowing what CRT is, and then after making such accusations they always define CRT in a way that absolutely is not what CRT is. Pro-CRTers default to "they don't want students to read about slavery or racism." This is absolutely not true, and absolutely not what actual CRT concerns itself with. Slavery and racism have been mainstays of American history curriucla since before I was born. Even people who barely paid attention in school would admit this, if there were any more desire for honesty in our discourse.

My high school history teacher was a southern "lost causer" who took the south's side in the Civil War but nonetheless provided us with the most descriptive and unapologetic understandings of slavery's brutalities I had heard up until that point. He also unambiguously referred to the nuclear attacks on Hiroshmia and Nagasaki as "genocidal." Why? Because most people's politics are idiosyncratic, and because you cannot genuinely infer a person to believe one thing based on their opinion of another, tangentially related thing. The totality of human understanding used to be something open-minded people prided themselves on being aware of, believe it or not...

This is the problem with CRT. This is is the motivation behind the majority of people who wish to ban it. It’s not because they are necessarily racist themselves. It’s because they recognize, correctly, that the now-ascendant frames for understanding social issues boils everything down to a superficial patina that denies not only the realities of the systems they seek to upend but the very humanity of the people who exist within them. There is no humanity without depth and nuance and complexities and contradictions. When you argue otherwise, people will get mad and fight back.

And this is the most bitter irony of this idiotic debate: it was never about not wanting to teach the sinful or embarrassing parts of our history. That was a different debate, one that was settled and won long ago. It is instead an immense, embarrassing overreach on behalf of people who have bullied their way to complete dominance of their spheres of influence within media and academe assuming they could do the same to everyone else. Some of its purveyors may have convinced themselves that getting students to admit complicity in privilege will prevent police shootings, sure. But I know these people. I’ve spoken to them at length. I’ve read their work. The vast, vast majority of them aren’t that stupid. The point is to exert control. The point is to make sure they stay in charge and that nothing changes. The point is failure.

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charming-2d-boys · 4 years ago

Note

May I get a sort of part two to Chrollo and Hisokas twin where Chrollo encounters them doing hot girl clown twin shit and his S/O is matching with Hiso and commiting crimes against humanity a la sibling bonding time- if that makes sense!

Oh my god, poor baby... he's gonna go bald because of the twins mostly Hisoka 😂

Thank you and I hope you’ll like it! 🙇

And yes, this is now a series 😂

A/N: couldn’t really come up with something where Hisoka’s twin would do something as crazy as him and hurt people just for fun, so I had to think of something more... fun and innocent that would still count as sibling bonding time 😂

Word count: 2080

Parts: One, Three ...

Taglist: @some-weeb-chick

It had barely been two days since Hisoka’s arrival and due to some so-called “business in town”, he couldn’t – or wouldn’t - leave yet. He actually seemed to be settling in quite nicely.

Much to yours and Chrollo’s chagrin.

While he wasn’t staying with you, Hisoka was still a pain in the ass almost 24/7. He’d tried to convince you to stay with you, as your guest, even being okay with sleeping on the couch. And Chrollo was, honestly, terrified of the idea of you accepting and what Hisoka staying with the two of you - for who knows how long - would mean: no way of getting some privacy, the bathroom being occupied for longer because of Hisoka’s rigorous beauty routine, the food being eaten at a faster rate, Hisoka’s whining and complaining, plus his silent threats and glares whenever you and Chrollo would do anything other than stay away from one another (preferably in other rooms).

Luckily, even you knew that what Hisoka wanted was something you weren’t willing to accept, so you told him (nicely) that he’d have to go to the nearest hotel. He could afford it, it wasn’t very far away from you and he could call if he ever needed anything. Of course, Hisoka complained loudly and you rolled your eyes as Chrollo was on the couch, reading, while you and your twin brother were in the kitchen, trying to discuss quietly and rationally. Keyword being “trying”.

“Hiso, I know you better than anyone else. And I know exactly how it would be to have you stay here. You’re my brother and I love you, but if I find your make-up over my vanity one more time or I find my favourite sweets gone, I think I’ll smother you with a pillow in your sleep.”

“I won’t leave my make-up there then~ ♦️”

“But you’ll keep eating my sweets. Anyway, that wouldn’t matter much. I know what you’re trying to do and believe me, it won’t work.” You smiled as you raised an eyebrow, waiting for his comeback. Chrollo smiled as he heard you. Well, if he thought Hisoka was annoying, then you were an amazing person for putting up with him and knowing exactly what to do and say to put him in his place.

“But I’m not trying to do anything~ ♠️”

“Yeah, sure, and I’m the Second Queen Duazul. You’re not fooling me, Hiso, you know that~” You winked before patting his cheek as if he was a child. “Call me if you need anything~” You said as you picked your intact sweets and taking a seat next to Chrollo, whose arm went around you as he continued reading and you watched TV, resting your head on his shoulder and munching on your treats. Hisoka felt like grinding his teeth at the display, but sighed in an aggravated manner and left to pack the things he’d slowly (and purposely) laid around your place to wordlessly establish that he’d be staying with you.

A few hours later, Hisoka, reluctantly, left your place, with you and Chrollo, who was holding you from behind, bidding him farewell for the night. You swore he moved and packed everything slowly, just trying to stall until it was too late and to make you take pity on him and let him stay the night. A deduction, which was actually correct, and that made your boyfriend chuckle. You were great at detecting and intuiting what your twin’s plans and thoughts were. And you were definitely the better one (in pretty much every way) if Chrollo was honest.

He was honestly glad that he got to spend time with you without being interrupted by Hisoka’s immaturity. Despite the ongoing plan of finding a Nen Exorcist, with your twin still around, Chrollo was getting just a little bit restless. He couldn’t use his Nen, he was worried about the Spiders and he was still grieving for those he’d lost. Hisoka dilly-dallying wasn’t making it any better.

Almost a week later, Chrollo was just coming out of a bookstore, a bag, with a fresh batch of books (most of them bought) for the two of you, slightly dangling as he kept walking. You were out with Hisoka, spending your time together since you’d told him about how fussy he could get if he didn’t receive his dose of attention from you. Again, another thing about Hisoka that seemed so natural to you and that amused Chrollo greatly. Hisoka certainly didn’t look like the type who would listen to you, yet some things are never what they seem to be.

At the sight of one of your favourite coffee shops, Chrollo entered with the intention of surprising you with one of your favourite desserts after dinner that night. You were always so adorable in his eyes when you’d hug him tightly while thanking him for doing something like that for you. And he appreciated whenever you’d share it with him, despite Chrollo not having much of a sweet tooth. But you were too cute when you were so happy sharing something you liked with him.

Chrollo left, already a bit excited for the night from his little daydreaming session, before he stopped and looked to his right, where one of the biggest parks in the city was situated. That bloodlust couldn’t be anyone else’s.

“Take this!” Your boyfriend heard your voice, his eyes widening a bit as he saw Hisoka jump, a smile on his face. The water balloon hit the spot where he’d been just a second before. Another series of them followed, some exploding from Hisoka’s cards, letting the water fall over other people, while some were grabbed by his Bungee Gum and thrown at you. One hit you in the side and you laughed as you prepared more ammunition. Some people were cursing and grumbling while others were amused. The kids around the two of you seemed to be having fun, at least. You were only targeting Hisoka and wanted to make the kids laugh whenever you hit him. Hisoka, on the other hand, kept dodging, letting some of your water balloons hit unsuspecting people…because that’s how much of a jerk Hisoka was. Though, you were always quick to yell out apologies between your running and laughter.

Chrollo kept staring, stuck between a mix of emotions: adoration, curiosity and even a bit of fear for you. You were almost like a kid yourself: laughing, having fun, running around and playing. Hisoka’s eyes glanced at Chrollo, almost as if he knew he’d been there the entire time, and smirked. Your boyfriend raised an eyebrow, almost challenging him to do or say something, before he covered his mouth to prevent himself from smiling too widely when one of your balloons hit Hisoka straight in the face. He couldn’t help smiling when he heard you laughing as one of the kids high-fived you, with another telling you how cool you were.

Hisoka glared at you, half playfully, his hair now down and dripping with water, while his make-up was smudged and running down his cheeks. He easily grabbed some of your water balloons with his Bungee Gum and brought them to his side, making you gulp.

“That wasn’t very nice of you~ ♣️” You gulped at his sickly sweet tone as you took a step back, urging the kids to move out of the way. Hisoka could be…unpredictable sometimes, even if you knew him so well. Chrollo took a few steps forward when he sensed the increase in bloodlust. You might’ve been twins, but he knew that Hisoka wasn’t just anyone. Chrollo was scared you might get hurt, despite being Hisoka’s twin and only family, and he felt helpless knowing he couldn’t do much, if anything, to protect you if needed be.

Sensing the increasing bloodlust, people started exiting the park or at least pulling back, leaving you to face your twin brother at the same time your boyfriend was getting closer to the two of you. Seeing his approaching figure, you glanced at Chrollo as you took a defensive stance, ready to protect the both of you if Hisoka tried anything. You were sure he wouldn’t hurt you – too badly, at least – but you weren’t so sure about Chrollo.

Hisoka had made it pretty clear that he wasn’t too fond of Chrollo, though none of them seemed to tell you why. You chalked it up to Hisoka being the protective brother while Chrollo was just your polite, but defiant boyfriend when it came to your relationship since he wouldn’t break up with you just because of your brother.

“Hisoka, don’t do anything stupid or I swear…” You threatened him, the open palm of one hand facing your boyfriend to make him stop before he came too close.

“You’ll do what, exactly, hm~? ♦️”

“Beat you up like when we were kids.”

“That was only once, (Y/N)~ ♥️”

“I can still beat you up, wanna see?” You smirked, ready to take him on. You had your own water balloons ready, using Gyō to see where your twin brother’s Bungee Gum was. The moment he took a step forward you jumped releasing some of the balloons, one exploding and splashing the side of his leg while most of his balloons blew up as soon as he released them in the air, most of the water pouring over you and also Chrollo, though he managed to avoid most of it by jumping away.

Chrollo sighed when he saw that you both moved further away from him, luring Hisoka as well, though he did throw a few more towards him, trying to hit your boyfriend. Which he managed once, making Chrollo look at him with a deadpan expression as his soaked shirt clung to his skin.

By the time you were done and coming to your boyfriend’s side, you were smiling widely as water dripped down from the top of your head to your soaked clothes as you gave him a kiss on the cheek, making him smile a little.

“I won!” You laughed as you looked at him happily before glancing at Hisoka, sticking your tongue out childishly while he glared back, though there was a smile on his face.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, I let you win~ ♠️” You laughed before nodding, rolling your eyes when you turned back towards your boyfriend. He squeezed you closer to his body with a quirk of his lips, despite the wet clothes becoming colder, which in turn made you both shiver a bit before you started feeling warmer.

“Care to tell me what this was all about, love?” Your boyfriend asked, the two of you still hugging while Hisoka wiped his ruined make-up off his face, though his attention was on the two of you. He didn’t like how close you two were to one another. He should’ve bound Chrollo with his Bungee Gum and hit him with all of the balloons. The thought made him smile creepily.

“Hiso, stop smiling like that and thinking whatever you’re thinking or I’ll really kick you.” You said calmly as you picked up the bag with the books before Chrollo gave you the one with the dessert instead, taking the heavier bag himself while grabbing your free hand. You both started walking back towards your house, Hisoka rolling his eyes as he started walking back to the hotel.

“I’m coming for dinner tomorrow~ ♥️” He said as he waved at you. You stopped walking, turning around before getting one last water balloon out. Chrollo watched the two of you, internally sighing. You were both so childish and immature sometimes… Well, it was another side of you that he loved.

“No, you’re not. Me and Chrollo are going on a date tomorrow.” This made your twin brother stop and turn around slowly, though he sighed irritatedly when he felt the water splash him right in the middle of his chest. He could’ve moved, but he didn’t feel like it anymore. His mood soured just because of what you’d said. “And no, it’s not negotiable. I didn’t get to have lunch with my boyfriend today and while it was fun, we’re both cold and soaked. Talk to you later, Hiso!” You waved with a kind smile.

“So, how about some tea when we get home?” You turned towards Chrollo, with him glancing triumphantly at your brother as you both started walking again, leaving your twin to watch your backs as you were getting farther away from him.

“Sounds perfect, love.” He replied as he kissed your temple, the slight increase in Hisoka’s bloodlust making him smirk.

#hxh #hunter x hunter #hunter x hunter x reader #hunter x reader #chrollo #chrollo lucilfer #chrollo x reader #chrollo lucilfer x reader #hisoka #hisoka morrow #hisoka x reader #hisoka morrow x reader #hxh chrollo #hxh hisoka #hxh writing

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toosicktoocare · 4 years ago

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prompt: Yay it's finally letting me ask you! I'm wondering if you could do anything with sick Jason? that'd be awesome. thank you for taking the time to read this :). and also, you're easily my favorite author, and I love you so much. thank you for all you do <3 - anon

prompt: Hey there. Could you do anything, like literally anything with sick!Jason? - @lettheseabirdscry

“Is everyone in position?”

Tim spares a glance down to see Damian crouched behind a large trash bin, the Robin’s starting position for the recon mission Bruce called all of the bats too, but when bringing his gaze back to the rooftop across from him, it’s empty.

“Hood’s not here,” Tim informs with a frown, unable to shake this nagging feeling that something’s wrong.

“Unsurprising,” Damian scoffs into the comms, his flat tone clashing with Bruce’s deep sigh.

“Robin,” Dick warns over the comms. “One sec; I’ll call him.”

Tim waits, staring hard at the empty spot across from him as if expecting Jason to just manifest before his very eyes, to just stretch through reality’s fabric with some quip about being fashionably late.

“Damn. No answer. Oracle, can we get a ping on his location?”

“He’s probably out becoming intoxicated with Harper.”

Tim doesn’t need to see Damian’s face to know the pull of muted disgust twisting at his lips.

“Arsenal’s out of town,” Barbara mutters flatly in the comm. “And Hood’s phone tracker is showing he’s in his apartment. I can’t get much of a read on anything else. Looks like he finally cashed in on his word that he was going to rig his security systems to block us out.”

“We should move forward with the mission without him.”

Tim considers nudging a loose brick over the ledge of the roof, right above Damian. “He said he’d be here.” Tim knows Jason is a lot of things; he knows that Jason thrives off of disappointing his family, but he’s not one to go back on his word, not with something like this.

“Maybe something came up in Crime Alley? He did say he’d meet us after patrol.”

Tim can hear the worry hidden behind Dick’s easy tone, and he assumes Dick’s carefully redistributing his concern, spreading it out evenly so he doesn’t lose his cool.

“Huh,” Barbara mutters absently into the comms. “His phone tracker says he’s been in his apartment all day.”

“Maybe he left his phone in his apartment?”

“I don’t know. I’ve pulled security camera feeds from Crime Alley, hitting all the locations he frequents, and... well, nothing. Not a single sight of him all day.”

Tim stands fully, narrowly scanning his surroundings for any sign of Jason. He can’t shake the uneasy pull at his chest, and though he’s not physically close to the others, he assumes the feeling’s mutual based on the silence that follows.

“B, I don’t like this. He promised me he’d be here.”

Dick’s no longer working to hide his concern, and that just heightens Tim’s anxiety that something isn’t right. He tries to puzzle together and explanation based on the four times he’s seen Jason this week: twice in Crime Alley on patrol, once two days ago at the Bat Cave, and yesterday walking out of a convenience store. He can’t recall anything out of the ordinary, but Jason’s closed off, more so thanks to the lingering pull of the Lazarus Pit, so normal, outward, physical appearances mean little to nothing.

“Can we delay the recon?” Tim asks. “I’m only ten minutes from his apartment. I can go check and see if he’s there.”

“I don’t want you to go alone.”

“B,” Tim fights back with a groan. “You and Nightwing are thirty minutes out from my location. I can be there and back before you even get here.”

“Take Robin,” Dick says, and Tim has to fight back the unconscious need to sigh loudly. “I know you’re capable, Red, but humor me. You two are stronger together.”

“Do I get a say in this?”

Damian’s voice is bleeding annoyance, and for once, Tim can agree with how he’s feeling.

“No,” Bruce mutters, sounding almost distracted. “Hood has made many enemies since coming back to Gotham, and you have no idea what you are walking into. You both go, and you both come back immediately if he’s not there.”

“Keep the line open, and stay in contact, Little Wings.”

Tim rolls his eyes and grapple hooks off the building, landing near Damian. “Okay,” he mutters into the comm, and Damian only scoffs at him and starts off toward Jason’s apartment, leaving Tim to catch up.

***

“You’re going to hack his security system?”

“Yes?” Tim frowns at Damian. “How else are we going to get in?” He starts tapping at a keypad outside of Jason’s apartment door.

“Knocking?”

“Tried that once,” Tim mutters, mind half-focused on the conversation and half-focused on working around Jason’s security. “Almost got shot.”

“You what?” Dick’s voice is alarmed in Tim’s ear, but he disregards it.

“And you think breaking and entering won’t get us shot?”

Tim shrugs, working around the final code until he hears multiple locks click open. “Don’t get hit,” he mutters, slowly opening the door. He tenses to alert, and he can see Damian match his stance at his side.

They step inside, quietly and carefully, and though Tim’s been here before, he’ll never not be mutely surprised at how domestic the entire place is. There are books stacked on a small coffee table. A blanket’s draped across the couch, and the TV’s on with the sound muted. The lights are on in his living room, kitchen, and bathroom.

Tim glances at Damian, sharing a silent conversation before they begin their quick, quiet search. Tim starts to the kitchen while Damian pads silently down the hall.

The kitchen’s a mess. Dishes are piled high in the sink and are littering the small kitchen table. There’s a bag on a counter, the same bag Tim remembers seeing Jason walk out of the convenience store with. He moves to it, looking to see various medicines tipped over in the bag. Frowning, he makes to pick one up, but then he hears a very loud gun shot accompanied by a very uncharacteristic curse.

“Damian!” Tim drops the bag and whips out of the kitchen to the bedroom, ripping his domino off as he walks in to see Jason shakily propping himself up on one elbow in bed with an even shakier hand aiming a gun at Damian.

“Jason, stop! It’s just us!”

“Was that a gun shot?”

Tim ignores Dick’s frantic question in his ear, instead edging around the room, eyes searching over Damian in the dark. “Were you hit?”

“Of course not,” Damian spits out, stepping forward toward the barrel of the gun and ripping it from Jason’s hand. He clicks the safety and drops the gun to the floor, and then he’s tugging a glove off and slapping a hard hand to Jason’s forehead, interrupting Jason’s deep, wet coughing.

Damian clicks his tongue, a frowm sharp on his face. “You’re burning up.”

Jason weakly slaps Damian’s hand away, staring a look filled to the brim with sharp daggers between the two, stopping on Tim.

“Did you break into my fucking apartment? Again?”

“Tim, what the hell is going on?”

Ignoring Dick once more, Tim reaches around to hit the light switch on the wall, frowning when Jason winces hard.

“You didn’t show up for the recon,” Tim supplies, his stomach twisting at the sight of Jason, of the angry red splotches coloring his otherwise pale cheeks, the sweat shining on his forehead, the inconsistent shivers wracking his broad frame. He studies the way Jason’s face twists around his words.

“That’s because it’s Thursday.”

Tim’s heart clashes with worry, and he and Damian share a glance. He’s surprised to see Damian sporting a similar look of muted concern.

“Jay, it’s Friday.”

“No, it ain’t,” Jason grumbles, hand slapping around on his bed until he finds his phone.

Tim watches as Jason’s face falls.

“Oh.” Jason spares a glance through his messages, unable to read much because his headache is making it hard to concentrate. He looks up from his phone, turning to see a rubber bullet lodged into the wall beside Damian’s head. “Did I hit you?”

“No,” Damian mutters, frowning. He slips around the room, pausing by Tim on his way out. “I’m going to talk with Father and Grayson. You should get a read on his fever.”

Nodding, Tim waits until he can hear Damian’s quick talking with Dick and Bruce before he moves to Jason’s bathroom to find a thermometer, snagging a traditional, under the tongue, mercury one before making his way back to Jason’s room.

“How long have you been sick?”

“How did you hack into my security systems again?”

Tim sighs, cocks his head to the side. “Do you really have to ask?”

“Fuck,” is all Jason replies with, and he takes the thermometer Tim hands him and slips it under his tongue.

“Three minutes,” Tim says, ignoring the sharp look Jason shoots him. “You know they make thermometers now that will tell you your temperature in seconds, right? Why the hell do you have this old thing?”

“Alfred left it a few months ago.”

“No talking,” Tim points out, and Jason glares hard under glassy eyes.

“Then stop asking me fucking questions.”

Tim’s mouth snaps shut, and once he counts to the 180th second, he leans forward and snags the thermometer from Jason’s lips, studying the 102.4 degree reading, equating it with Jason’s other, apparent symptoms.

“Have you been around anyone who’s had the flu recently?”

“I don’t have the flu,” Jason mutters despite the chesty coughs that rip up his throat. “Just a cold.”

Tim takes a step back and crosses his arms. “High fever, coughing, chills, I imagine you have a headache based on the wince when I turned on the lights, and you probably have a sore throat since your voice is physically hurting my ears.”

“What? Are you a doctor now?”

“No, I’m just not an idiot,” Tim spits back, and Jason only grunts and flops back against his pillow, tugging his blanket up with a hiss.

“Give me a minute, and I’ll suit up.”

Tim... does not expect that, and he’s about to scold Jason in a way he’s sure would make Dick proud when Damian slips back into the room.

“Father called Clark. They are pulling in backup for the recon.”

“Well, why’d he go and do something stupid like that?”

Tim rips his eyes from Damian back to Jason to see Jason shuffling around his room for his suit.

“Jason, what the hell?” Tim spits out, moving to Jason’s side when Jason starts to sway. “Sit down.” He nudges Jason back toward the bed, but Jason, despite how sick he is, fights against him.

“We have a recon, don’t we?” He turns to Damian and barks out a cough. “Demon, call B and tell him we’re coming.”

“Todd, you’re too sick. You’d just hold us back.”

Tim takes the distraction to lightly shove Jason back onto the bed.

“I think I’d rather have Dick here,” Jason groans, coughing harshly into his pillow. “At least he has good bedside manner.”

“He and father are already on their way.”

“Fantastic,” Jason growls, curling in on himself and coughing harshly.

Tim moves to pull the blankets up over Jason’s shivering frame, stopping when Damian’s hand wraps around his wrist. “Let me go, Dami.”

“No. I have very specific instructions to relocate you away from Todd.”

“What the hell? Why?” Tim digs his heels into the floor when Damian pulls on his wrist, but he stumbles forward when Jason lazily kicks him in the back of the leg.

“No spleen, idiot. Get the fuck outta here.”

“I’m fine,” Tim tries, but Damian’s grip is hard enough to bruise, so he relents with a loud sigh. “Jesus, fine...” He rips his hand free and stalks to the door. “Get him medicine and make sure he doesn’t die.”

***

The deep inhale of nicotine burns Jason’s lungs and brings forth a chesty round of coughing that hurts. He absently rubs at his chest, shivering, and takes in another puff of his cigarette, and then another, desperately repeating this action to chase away the edge of angered anxiety that comes when he’s near Bruce. He leans over the balcony with another shiver, watching his shaking exhale cloud before him.

He hears the balcony door open, but the footsteps are too light to be Bruce’s. They are also too determined to be Tim’s, and too deliberate to be Damian’s. He doesn’t look back when a blanket is draped over his shoulders, and he only scoffs quietly when Dick plucks the cigarette from his fingers and drops it over the side of the balcony.

“You would still smoke when you have the flu.”

Jason doesn’t reply, not finding the energy for a snarky retort. “What have you all been doing out there?” he asks instead, tugging the blanket tighter around him to fend off the chills.

“Damian’s cleaned your kitchen, and now he’s reorganizing your movie collection. Tim started reading one of your books, but he fell asleep. And Bruce has been staring at your bedroom door as if willing you to run out and give him a big, bear hug.”

Jason huffs out a laugh that quickly morphs into deep coughs. He can feel Dick’s hand on his back as he coughs into his shoulder.

“And you?”

“Oh, I’m alternating between Candy Crush and Words with Friends with Barbara. She’s kicking my ass.”

Jason smiles, tired but genuine, feeling the anxiety flutter off with Dick’s presence. “How long til you all get the fuck out?”

“I don’t think Bruce is going to leave until he’s sure you are okay. Not sure that we can wake Tim right now, and Damian won’t leave until Bruce does.”

“And you?” Jason repeats, and Dick cocks his head to the side with an easy smile.

“I’ll stay as long as you want me to stay.”

Humming, Jason shivers again, and he allows Dick to guide him back into his room and to his bed. Dick carefully tucks him in, and Jason’s too tired and too feverish to mind.

“I’m sorry,” he rasps out suddenly, and Dick’s hands freeze, and he frowns.

“For what?”

“I promised I would show up.”

“Hey, Jay, it’s okay. I’m just glad you’re safe.” Dick brushes the back of his hand against Jason’s forehead, a sympathetic hum slipping up his throat at the heat. “No more smoke breaks until you’re better. You’re still burning up.”

“You’re saying you’ll support my chain smoking when I’m all better?” Jason bats his eyelashes, and Dick sighs and stands, swatting at Jason’s covered leg.

“Don’t twist my words. I’m going to toss all your cigarette packs out.”

Jason growls lightly, a few coughs mixing with it, and he curls onto his side, wishing the stupid medicine Damian forced into him would kick in a lot faster. “You have until 99,” he mutters to Dick, who’s already filling a small trash bin with cigarette packs.

“What?”

“99,” Jason repeats with a harsh cough that hurts his chest. “When my temp hits 99, I want you all out.” There’s no heat to his tone, and he struggles against the fatigue pulling against him.

“99,” Dick clarifies with a soft smile. “You got it, Jaybird.”

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minisugakoobies · 3 years ago

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Its senior year of college and you're ready to fuck shit up! Your sorority has an annual tradition amongst the seniors where they have a competition. Sometimes its who can have the highest grade, other times it can be who can get kicked out of class more. This year, it is who can acquire the most attention of the men from neighboring frat BTS. Sex is not required but you have to have them smitten and you need proof.

What order do you go after them?

Namjoon - President and most responsible. Always present at fundraisers and disciplinary meetings for the members. Pre-Law and takes it very seriously. Often times talks his way out of getting their parties shut down by the cops.

Jin- 5th or 6th year senior. You thought he was a senior when you were a freshman so you don't really know.

Yoongi - The hardest to conquer. You've never seen him actually flirt with anyone but you've seen people come out of his room looking like they're fresh off a red eye from Hong Kong. You've tried having conversations with him in the past on the basis of greek stuff but he just tells you to speak to Joon.

Hobi - Your favorite pothead. You've already slept with him and know his rules. He puts his foot down on having relationships and public cuddles. He is also very careful over text when alluding to activities.

Jimin - The biggest whore of them all. You don't conquer Jimin, Jimin conquers you. Rumor is he's smart AF but hasn't done a single assignment since he stepped food on campus. His charm and his smile has gotten him to where he is. He's apart of your annual presentation of men to watch out for on campus but you still end up comforting at least 5 girls a semester after they've fallen for him.

Taehyung - The biggest troublemaker. From painting the sculpture of the university's founder like a clown to saran wrapping all of the toilets in all of the dorms overnight. The kid is menace and somehow gets away with it. Oh because he knows everyone thinks he's stupid when he is impeccable at reading people. He always has the upperhand.

Jungkook - The newest pledge but also the sweetest. Very eager to be friends with anyone in greek life. He makes his feminist stance very known as well and has no problem standing up with any woman if the situation arises. Your whole house swoons over him and he's the only male allowed in the house past curfew.

-Bloobs-

Okay, it sounds like I've got my work cut out for me. But I don't back down from a challenge! *cracks knuckles*

I think I'll start with the easiest ones and work my way up from there. Which means Jungkook is first. A sweet new pledge should be easy enough to flirt with and wrap around my finger.

Taehyung is next. I'll join him on one of his escapades, become a confidante. Let him know I don't think he's a dummy like everyone else. I can win him over, I'm sure.

I think Jin will be third. So he's a super super senior, huh? All right, I'll lean into it. Tell him how I've always had a thing for older, more mature guys. Really stroke his ego a bit.

After Jin, I'm aiming for Namjoon. Sounds like a very serious man. Perhaps I will take Yoongi up on his suggestion and talk to Joonie about Greek life and some ideas I have about how we can make the system better. Maybe even discuss my thoughts on how to make those disciplinary meetings more stimulating.

Here's where it starts to get tricky. I think I'll tackle Hobi next. We've already got a good rapport; I just need to get him to give in a little on the PDA or other proof of our dalliances. I'm sure I can figure out a way to convince him it's worth it.

Gah, Jimin or Yoongi next? Neither sound like easy conquests. I suppose I could try to beat Jimin at his own game and play hard to get. Make him chase me, until I've got him right where I want him.

So that leaves Yoongi as the final challenge. I think the only way to win here is to go on the offense and strike directly at his confidence - tell him I've heard the Hong Kong rumors and don't believe a word. Really get under his skin and refuse to hear otherwise until he's begging me to let him prove it once and for all.

#asks #bloobs 🫐#senior year challenge #ot7

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sweetchup · 4 years ago

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Not A Chance!!

Type: Shalnark x reader

Prompt: O’Inari’s Wisdom — On any day during this week, people of the ages of 19-30 years old will go through a walk in the woods carrying a clear ornament (Traditionally it used to be a Jar). The ornament is usually filled with the person’s favorite scent or perfume, Name and Phone number on paper slip, and their dream type of lover on a rose petal. When walking through the woods, the person allows the God/Goddess of the woods O’inari’s Imps to trick them into meeting their soulmate. It is a must to switch ornaments with that first person they see for it is said the imps won’t allow them to leave the forest unless they do so.

Author Note: I decided to try a different writing style with the kiss scene this time. Tell me what you guys think.

(Prompts/Rules) (Masterlist)

“Hey (y/n), Bisky, What’s this?” Gon asks. His voice was hardly heard over the many chattering of the NPCS and other players in the city as you looked at him. Gon first shows Bisky, who was closer to him, a baby blue flier that you couldn’t quite read from where you were standing. “Is it some sort of Greed Island event?”

“Wait a minute. Gon do you not know what O’inari’s wisdom is?” Bisky questions, shocked. Walking over closer and looking from behind Bisky, you realize that the Winter Holiday of O’inari’s Wisdom was indeed taking place on Greed island. You were slightly surprised for a second but it soon started to make sense the more you thought about it. It had started snowing on the island recently and if the game was parallel to the times in the real world then it should also be December in the game. So it just made sense that Holidays were also coded into the game to match the changing seasons.

“Oh, so it’s a Holiday,” Gon says surprised once Bisky explains it to him, “We didn’t celebrate it on Whale Island. Maybe it’s because I was so young. But, at the very least, (y/n) will be able to celebrate it with us.”

“Huh?” You murmur confused. You never mentioned anything about doing it, “I’m not doing it. Actually, why would you think I would do it?”

“Well, you don’t have a boyfriend right? So you must have not done it yet. So you should do it! It will be fun!” Gon explains enthusiastically as Bisky nods in agreement. Of course, it was just straightforward thinking done by Gon, not thinking of other possible possibilities. Man, why exactly did Killua have to leave you to take the Hunter exam again?

“I actually have done the Holiday before,” You tell the two as you start to walk away, calling forth “book” as you do so. As you examine through your binder, you continued to explain what you meant to the younger boy, “I’ve actually done it many times. Sometimes doing a full week some years. Other times going to different locations from other cities or towns. But in all the years I’ve done, I never once heard nor bumped into anyone else in the forest. So I just gave up on th—”

Bisky suddenly cuts you off with a loud exaggerated gasp.

“Oh My~ Then that must mean you really do have a soulmate out there (y/n)! What powerful young love!!” Bisky states dreamily as sparkles and flowers seem to dance around her. All you can do is sigh at the older woman antics and continue on your way. Honestly, to you there was no way Soulmates could exist. Not a chance! There was just no science nor reason behind it. Nen could be explained. Monsters could be explained. But soulmates, not at all. It was just some made up myth with no hard facts.

As you make your way to the gate of Aiai, you feel Gon tug at your top to catch your attention.

“But, (y/n)?” You take your eyes away from your binder to look at Gon. “Do you think you could try? Perhaps one of the needed 99 slot cards is given at the event.”

“Oooo, good thinking Gon,” Bisky states looking at the flier and then looking at you. “With that possibility, I order you to do it then (y/n). Afterall, you are the only person who could do it out of us.”

You and Bisky stare at each other tensely for a little. Slightly challenging each other to step down until eventually you give up and finally look away. Even though you aren’t looking at her, you can hear Bisky doing a dance in success. “Fine then where do we go to take place in this event?”

“Apparently, you can get there by using an Accompany to Winterfell. We don’t even need to go there beforehand to use the accompany card.” As Bisky explains, you flip your binder and grab a spare accompany card. This is the last one from your binder so Gon and Bisky will have to start using their ones from now on. Well, Until you can get to Masadora to get some more.

“Okay then, let’s get this over with,” You state. Though for some reason you have an uneasy feeling in your stomach as you hold the card up. You wondered why, perhaps you felt nervous? But why would you? Greed Island was hardly crowded so this is the lowest chance of meeting someone during the Holiday. Maybe it was just the fact you haven’t done this tradition in a while. Yeah, that was probably just it, “Accompany on! To Winterfell!”

—.—.—.—.—

The crunching sound of snow is the only thing you hear as you walk through the forest. For what felt goes on for miles, all you have been seeing was snow covered pine trees. Not even birds or other sources of life have been spotted while you have been walking in this forest which was quite strange. How long have you been walking you wondered. It was hard to tell but you guessed maybe an hour or so?

Stopping next to a tree, you run your hand up it’s trunk somewhat tracing the engravement in it. You had already seen this before. It was like you have been going in circles, even though you have actually only been going straight. Was this some sort of test in the game? Maybe Gon was right about a specified slot card being here.

“Book!” In a poof, your binder opens up. Or, at least that's what you expect to happen. However, it doesn’t pop up. After calling the book a couple more times, you realize it was no use. It just doesn’t work. Was this some glitch in the game?

All of sudden, a rush of wind catches you off guard. It wasn’t just any breeze however, this gust of wind was similar to that of a giant icy blizzard. You cringe as the snow in the wind pricks and scratches at your skin. You needed to take cover from the harsh wind before you freeze to death.

Quickly, when you try to look around to find somewhere to take cover, something whips into your face, blinding you. As you struggle to pull it off of you, the wind suddenly comes to a complete stop. Weird, very weird. Finally getting it off of you and taking a good look at the item, you realize it was just an in-game scarf. Actually, you weren’t even sure it was an item from the game since it had a tag from the real world.

“Hey! That’s my sc—“ Turning around at the cheerful voice behind you, you see a familiar man a couple of feet away from you. You don’t understand why you recognize the man until he suddenly goes on guard and realization hits you. Wait a minute you remember that stance. He was a member of the Phantom Troupe wasn’t he? Shalnark, right? You quickly get on guard as well when he grabs an antenna from his pocket. An manipulator, huh? In a one on one fight like this, he has the clear advantage on you.

“Hey, I’m not here with the chain user,” You state, breaking the silence between you two. You weren’t usually someone to give up but avoiding a fight with him and going your separate ways is the best way to go in this situation. Afterall, the last thing you needed was to become his newest puppet. “I’m with the kids and all we are doing is playing the game by collecting cards.”

You wrap up Shalnark’s scarf and lightly toss it in front of his feet.

“I have no problems with you guys and I don’t want to fight you.” You continue as you start to walk backward, away from him. Hopefully, that woman, Pakunoda, told the other troupe members how you deteratarted Kurapika away from the option of placing a Nen dagger in her heart and helped spared their boss’ life.

It’s quiet and tense for a couple of minutes, not even the wind was blowing, before the blonde nods in agreement to your idea. You watch as he carefully picks up his scarf and then both of you two turn away from each other at the same time to walk away. Thankfully, counting on that woman seemed t—

All of sudden, after a couple of steps, the large gust of wind returns. You tried to fight against it and continue forward but it only seemed to grow stronger the more you tried. It grew so strong in fact that it lifted you right off your feet and threw you backward. You hoped to land on the soft snow but, of course with your luck, you hit something else very hard with a loud thump. Originally, you thought it was a tree that you hit but once you roll onto your side, you come to the realization that whatever you landed on doesn’t feel anything like tree bark.

“Ow! What was that…” Shooting up at the voice, You realize it was Shalnark that you had hit. You attempt to scurry away from him fast however, as soon as you get too far away, a gust of wind drags him back towards you. You pause as Shalnark lifts his head from being buried in the snow and looks at you confused.

“I-It’s some sort of error in the game. I swear. Maybe with the coding? Or—“ You blab out in a tangent trying to explain what was going on. Soon however, Shalnark sighs loudly, cutting you off.

“That’s a really stupid conclusion you cam up with. If you had once stop to look around you in this game, you would have realized this place, Greed Island, actually takes place in the real world. Specifically a straight shot east of York New.” Shalnark explains, somewhat sarcastically. All you do is roll your eyes. Of course you got stuck with the jackass of the troupe.

“Well then since this game isn’t actually a game, what do you think is going on, if you think you are oh so right?” You spat back at him. For some reason, you just couldn’t understand why he was being so rude in this situation, it was clearly neither of yours fault.

“Simple. This,” Shalnark states confidently as he takes the ornament from his pocket and lifts it up to you. You can’t help but laugh loudly at the idea, causing him to scowl at you.

“Y-You can’t be serious?! You and I? Soulmates!?”

“Of course! You do realize that in the myth it’s impossible for us to leave until we exchange our ornaments.” Shalnark explains, tossing his ornament at you. Clutching it in your hand, you quickly examine the ornament before scoffing.

“Yeah, not a chance,” You state as you toss his ornament back to him, causing Shalnark to sputter confused. “In no ways am I giving my personal information and phone number to the tech expert of the phantom troupe. That’s just plain stupid.”

You and Shalnark bicker on back and forth for a while until eventually he goes quiet and just glares at you. Honestly, in your opinion, it was better if he just chose to quit talking. He snaps his fingers catching you off guard, “Okay I have an idea! How about I try to convince you we are destine—”

“Soulmates?” You finish for him, slightly cringing.

“Yeah, that! And if I can convince you, then you can feel safe to give me your ornament so we can both leave.”

You ponder a little on the option he suggested. Honestly, you actually didn’t have much of any others option to begin with, “Fine. What do you got to convince me?”

“Well, first,” You watch closely as Shalnark grabs the Rose petal out from his ornament. Oh, you knew where this was going, that was actually a smart idea. Maybe this guy actually had some brain cells. “I’m going to read off my dream type of lover. I bet this will describes you.”

Reading off his petal to you, you listen carefully. As the more he goes on, you can’t deny that it did somewhat describe you, almost on the dime. As Shalnark shows the petal to you to prove he wasn’t making stuff up, You decide to grab your own petal. He seems to get excited that you finally understood what he was saying.

“See I tol—“ Shalnark is cut off when you let out a loud laugh.

“Yeah no way. Mine is ‘Someone who is like the sun; always cheerful as well as mentally bright.’” You read off, chucking it back into the ornament.

“Hey! I’m pretty cheerful! And bright!” Shalnark states, finally flashing you a smile for the first time you’ve been with him.

“Ha, I doubt that.” You say, though you can’t help but feel your heart skip a beat at how handsome he looked with a smile on his face. Your eyes go wide and you mentally slap yourself. What in the world were you thinking just now? You were flustered over him?!, “N-Next! What’s your other ideas?!”

“Aw come on!”

After a couple of more attempts from Shalnark to prove you two are soulmates, as well as many more confused borderline bipolar back and forth feelings on your end, Shalnark has run out of ideas and you two sit in silence as he tries to come up with more.

“Is that all the ideas you have?” You ask him shivering slightly as you pull your jacket closer for warmth. Looking up towards the sky above the thick pine branches, you see that it had just started to get darker out, effectively making it ten times colder as well. It now dawns on you that at this rate with your progress, you two could possibly freeze to death out here if you couldn’t get to a warm shelter before night.

“Shalnark. Here I—“ You suddenly pause what you were saying as you turn to face the man, “what the hell do you think you are doing…?”

You looked confused at Shalnark, who had moved closer to sit next to you. You didn’t know what he was up to but you definitely still didn’t trust him. As you try to lift yourself up to move away, Shalnark quickly grabs your wrist to keep you put where you were. Oh hell no. You struggle against his grip, attempting to pry his fingers off of your wrist but while you are distracted he uses his other hand to grab your arm. Effectively trapping you.

You struggle against him a little more but it only causes him to push you backwards down into the snow, him slightly leaning over you. Now nervous about what Shalnark was possibly doing, you shout out to him, “H-hey! I’ll give you the ornament okay? I don’t want—“

You feel the rest of your words die in your throat as Shalnark leans his forehead against yours, causing him to get very close to your face as well. Biting the inside of your mouth, you close your eyes tightly as a way to try calming your pounding heart. You couldn’t tell if your heart was racing out of fear or possibly something else. Though, again, it wasn’t like you could think straight at this point on time to figure which one. Cutting off your thoughts, Shalnark lets out a boyish giggle and tells you, “For someone who says they hate me and doesn’t believe in soulmates, your face sure is feeling quite hot. It’s almost as if you are flustered by me.”

Quickly, most likely in an attempt to save your dignity, you turn your face away to him so his face could no longer touch yours. As you do so, your heart leaps out of your chest when you hear him let out a small aww in disappointment.

“H-hey! I said I’ll give you my ornament so let go of me!” You sputter out, trying and likely failing at keeping yourself composed. You know it’s hard for you to think logically in a situation like this but you would’ve thought you had enough common sense in you to not get flustered by a mass murder.

“Hmmmm… Nope” Shalnark answers, popping the “p” at the end. Surprised and bewildered, You whirl your head around back to look at him. He seemed to get a kick out of your reaction because he can’t help but laugh. “You are correct by the fact that all I wanted originally was to take the ornament and leave. But the more we went on, talking and bickering, I realized I wanted something else.”

“H-huh? What? I don’t have much of anything else.” You questioned. Was he talking about cards in the game? Gon carried all of the number slot cards so you didn’t have anything that was useful to Shalnark.

“Silly girl~ It’s simple.” Shalnark flashes you a smile as he boops your nose with each next word, “I. Want. You~”

As you give a weird expression in response to Shalnark flirting attempt, he looks at you confused as to why you looked like that before full on laughing, when what looked like steam started to flow from out of your head. He couldn’t believe he fried your brain with a silly pick up line. It wasn’t even a good one either.

“Adorable~” Shalnark whispers out so softly and quietly that you almost don’t hear it. You go to ask him to repeat what he said again, but stop when he leans down. He wasn’t—

You can only watch as he inches closer and closer to your face. You don’t get why you don’t stop him, you know you probably should. But you just couldn’t for some reason you didn’t quite understand.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Shalnark kisses you. Stealing your first kiss, a precious thing you could never be able to get back from him. Though you doubt you would even try if you were able to.

As his lips moved against yours, you had to admit they were surprisingly soft, not at all rough or chapped like what the very few romance books you’ve read over the years described. Though you had to admit those boorish books were right about one thing, kissing someone was a feeling you’ve never once experienced before in your life. Authors have described the experience in many different ways but as Shalnark pulls away from your lips only to dive it once. Twice. And so many more times that you’ve lost count, you realize yours wasn’t like the ones written down. It didn’t take your breath away, it wasn’t rough or deep, it wasn’t messy or desperate.

But, it was yours. A feverish kiss if you must find a word to describe it. A kiss that even while pushed down into the freezing cold snow, you felt you were burning up inside. So much so, that your brain seemed to melt and your muscles turned to jelly from an non existent heat.

Finally after a while, you two pull away from each other, still in a trance like state from what happened. It’s quiet, nothing is heard nor said between you two as you just stare at each other. You know it is now dark out. You know you should be trying to get back to Gon and Bisky before they worry. You know it would be in your best interests to try to get away as far as you can from the dangerous man before you. You know you shouldn’t be feeling such feelings for him, for it is too soon and he probably doesn’t even deserve to be able to experience a pleasant emotion like this one. You know all these things almost as if they are engraved in your heart.

But, even when knowing all these things, you can’t stop yourself from dragging Shalnark back in to give you another kiss.

#hxh #hunter x hunter #phantom troupe #shalnark #shalnark x reader

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iguessilovebakugou · 4 years ago

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Beautiful || {Dabi/F!Reader} --- Heathers: The Musical -- Cause I’m a stupid fuck who can’t control themselves

Me: *Doesn’t post anything for 2 years*

Also Me when Dabi is on screen at any point ever: 👁👄👁

I’m also throwing this out there because like...I highly doubt anyone still looks at my blog, so I can hide my fucking shame that I’ve been thinking of this idea on and off for almost 2 years now.

Now...spoilers under the cut because I have to explain some things...

I know they just recently announced that Dabi “died” when he was a kid. So I will have to specify that I’m aging him up to be 17, since that would just...make sense?

-- -- -- --

“Venti salted caramel coldbrew, extra foam.”

There was a raid against villains that day. It had been the only thing anyone could talk about.

You had overheard the editors talking about it as they made their coffee. It was a good thing, right, that they were taking the fight to the bad guys? That not all hope had been lost? Most people just wanted an ounce of good news. Some confirmation that the way of things would hold strong - a nice sugar coat to swallow the hard pill. Though, it seemed like all any report worth their salt - you included - could discuss was the fall of society, what people were going to do if...or...when, rather, the heroes were yanked from their spot light and cast down in the dirt with the rest of civilization.

You weren’t a giant fan of them, considering, but you understood the necessity for someone to hold the mantle - someone who guaranteed the safety the mass populous required to keep them from falling to complete anarchy.

Your phone buzzed as a message appeared at the top, blocking the article’s title from view. Your boss, Fumihiro...again...for the 8th time since you left the office.

[INCOMING MSG] :: Where are you right now?

“Venti salted caramel cold brew, extra foam for...”

Your brows furrowed, your stance shifting from one foot to the other.

[OUTGOING MSG] :: Getting the coffee.

[OUTGOING MSG] :: Why? Want me to get you something?

Heroes. The way of things. Society.

Most people didn’t seem to care too much about it once their phones locked and it was out of their line of sight. When the terrible wasn’t in your face, it was easy to forget that everything hung on a tiny thread that was always threatening to snap. It was hard, you figured, to care about the state of the world when you were more concerned about mundane matters that were pressing in the moment. The rest of the world seems small when you have everything else to pressure you. It was easy to forget.

[INCOMING MSG] :: www.wtxz319.rdio.com/live/93901_error

[INCOMING MSG] :: u need to watch this

You wished you could forget about it. Wished that it hadn’t been looming over your head since...well...

Your thumb hovered over the link, the screen went black and a stream started loading. Some radio podcast? You read the title: ENDEVOUR TAKING ON U-A’S BEST AND BRIGHTEST?! UNLIKELY SON AND FATHER DUO?

“Venti salted caramel cold brew, extra foam!!”

Your heart leapt up into your throat as your eyes met the kid behind the counter. He paused only a moment before using his fingers to nudge your drink closer to edge.

“Oh. Sor-”

“Have a good one.”

You locked your phone as you shoved it into your back pocket, grabbed your drink and made a beeline towards the door. The streets were busy, given the hour. You had just enough time to get back to the office and finish your article on before the evening - just enough time for an editor to look it over, to do some quick fixes and-

You phone buzzed again, and Fumihiro’s face once again flashed on the screen.

[INCOMING MSG] :: Did you see it?

[INCOMING MSG] :: We need to be the first people on this. I don’t care about what else you were working on. This is more important.

You stopped at the crosswalk, staring at your phone and ignoring the woman who had to move around you with a huff. But...you were so close to getting to the meat of what the Safety Commission was hiding. You were so close getting to the heart of it all and, maybe - just maybe - throwing away some of the uncertainty that was hanging over everyone’s head after All Might’s retirement.

After the weeks you spent staking out police stations, hounding hero agencies, digging through dumpsters for any shred of proof the Pros and Police were hiding something - the favors you had to call in for breadcrumbs and scraps alone?! And just like that, he wanted you to drop it all? For what? Some stupid radio show speculation?

You didn’t hesitate to hit the phone icon in the upper corner, stomping towards the intersection.

“Hey-” You cut Fumi before he could even finish your name.

“What do you mean ‘drop the article’? Do you know-”

“I don’t care! This is bigger!!”

“What’s bigger than-”

“Did you even watch the link I sent you? Every station across Japan is getting hacked and it’s been playing on loop for a few minutes now on a few stations. It’s slowly moving to others now.”

“Fumi what the hell are you talking about!?”

“I, TOUYA TODOROKI, WAS BORN THE ELDEST SON OF ENDEVOUR.”

It...was hard to think for a moment. Like a memory, reaching up from the dirt to grab you, to finally take you down to hell.

That voice.

It felt like he was right in your ear, in your head. It had been so long since he had done it to you, since he...no...not him. He was dead. His father confirmed it. You confirmed it. You knew he was gone and there was no bringing him back and -

“I’VE KILLED OVER 30 INNOCENT PEOPLE UNTIL NOW.”

No. No, no no no no it wasn’t in your head - because if it had been, the sound of blood pounding in your ears wouldn’t be able to mask it so well. You froze, your hands shaking as your breath caught in your throat. It couldn’t be him. I couldn’t, it couldn’t...

“You need to get back to the office - I want you on this. I already have a copy of it in case you can’t screen capture it -”

“I WOULD LIKE TO LET EVERYONE KNOW WHY I’D END UP COMMITING SUCH A HIDEOUS ACT.”

Because you’re a fucking monster.

Someone next to you stopped and looked up. Then another and then another. You knew what they were looking at. Who they were looking at. And still, you couldn’t bring yourself to look up. You couldn’t do it - not again. Not now. Not after so many years of him being dead and buried where he deserved to be.

But he always had a hold on you. Something that drew you to him. And so...you looked up.

And as your phone and drink clattered to your feet, you felt the world stop.

“...Touya?”

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

September 1st, 20xx

Dear Diary - I believe I’m a good person. You know? Like, I believe there’s good in everyone. But um...here we are! First day of our Senior Year and I look around at the kids I’ve known for so long and I can’t help but think to myself - what happened?

You hadn’t really wanted to be friends with the Nori’s. Not really. They were stuck up snobs who made everyone below them miserable. But there was a power to them that everyone respected. You had been taught that knowledge held power. And the Nori’s had power because everyone knew if you double crossed them, your life would be a living fucking hell.

“Ah, Nori and Nori.”

You grimaced into your knees as Nori Ueda vomited for a third time since you had been hiding out in the bathroom. The teacher paused before sighing. “And Nori. Perhaps you didn’t hear the bell? You’re late for class.”

“Nori’s sick! We’re helping her.”

You had given the low price of just sitting at their lunch table - once, no talking would be necessary - in the hopes people would leave you alone. It was a simple fact of life: Where there are teenagers, there are winners and there are losers. And you had spent the majority of your High School career on the low end of the totem pole. You were so low, in fact, it seemed talking to you was all but taboo. Anything other than bullying, shoving into lockers, or calling out unfortunate break outs was strictly forbidden by anyone not wanting to suffer the same fate.

But the Nori’s? Solid Teflon: never bothered. Never harassed like you had been. They had a mystique, a pull, a confidence that couldn’t be matched. And you would have killed to be like them.

Perhaps that why you reached into backpack and yanked out the pad of hall pass papers.

You opened the stall door and slipped out, making your wave over to the group. Nori Ueda wiped her mouth. Nori Makino was leaning against the bathroom counter, focusing on making sure her bright red lipstick was perfectly placed. And Nori Kaneko? She was staring down the teacher, hands on her hips, completely equal and completely ready to start a fight.

The teacher laughed, so sure and so pleased that she had been the one to stumble upon the trio in the bathroom. “Not without a hall pass, you’re not. A week’s detention.”

“Uh...ma’am.” Your voice trembled out and reverberated off the tiled wall. It had been louder than you originally intended. Everyone turned quickly to you, only for their attention to be immediately drawn to your outstretched hand you held. “All of us are out on a hall pass...yearbook committee.”

She snatched it from you. For a moment, she simply glanced back between you, the paper, then the Nori’s, then back. After a heavy moment, she nodded. “It looks like you’re all listed.”

Nori Kaneko took it from the teacher, looking it over herself. You tried not to make eye contact as she looked at you. You instead focused on the teacher as she made her way towards the bathroom door. “Hurry up and get where you’re going.”

You heaved a sigh of relief.

“This is an excellent forgery. Who are you?”

You stuttered your name, shrinking under her sharp gaze. “I uh...I crave a boon.”

“What boon?” You weren’t sure if she was simply aggravated you had dared do more than answer the questions she asked or if the annoyance was just a constant manner of speaking for her.

You could forge anything thanks to your quirk - Copy. All you had to do was see someone or something once or twice, focus on it as best as you could and like that, you could be that person. From their mannerisms, their voice, to their penmanship. Its why you stole the pad of hall passes, to skip class whenever you wanted, to have an excuse to be hiding out in the bathroom.

It had worked...sometimes...

You stuttered out your name. You could see the two Nori’s snicker in the background. They had no clue who you were. It was...somewhat insulting. Their “friends” had done their best to make your life a living hell and yet you had flown under their radar.

Your eyes darted between the three of them. Nori Kaneko stared down at you, foot tapping and arms crossed as she took you in. You couldn’t help but feel like a prey animal, stuck in the line of sight of the Apex Predator.

But your mama didn’t raise no quitter. You swallowed and stood up just a bit straighter. “Let me sit with you at lunch, once. No talking necessary. If...I mean, if people think you guys tolerate me, they might leave me alone.”

The laughter was instantaneous. Kaneko looked back to the other two, her laugh light and condescending. The audacity, it said. The gall of you to ask to sit with them, of all people. “Before you answer, I also do permission slips, report cards, and absent notes.”

“What about prescriptions?”

“Shut up, Nori.”

“Sorry, Nori.” Ueda immediately slunk back to the shadows, gaze downcast.

Kaneka stepped forward and you thought for a moment she was going to shove you onto the floor. You braced your feet, mentally preparing yourself for the force of her push...but it never came. She was in front of you for a moment, and then the next, she was at your side. She hummed under her breath and you could feel her eyes trail over your body. Your school uniform a size too big, the bulky cardigan you had worn over it, the scuffed shoes and year old skirt. Your hair was a mess, your face was bare, and you could hear the sound of your knees knocking together in fear.

“For a greasy little nobody,” She started, reaching out a smooth hand and brushing some of your hair back and out of your eyes. “You do have good bone structure.”

Nori Makino perked up, coming over to take a look at you. She took your face in your hand, causing you to tense and try to pull away. For a girl bordering 90 pounds soaking wet, her grip was rather strong. “And a symmetrical face.”

“A...huh?”

“If I took a meat cleaver down the center of your skull, I would have matching halves.” She looked back at you, nodding. “That’s very important.”

“Of course,” Ueda added, glaring at you from over Kaneka’s shoulder. “You could stand to lose a few pounds.”

You opened your mouth to argue, to gain some sense of control over the conversation - but like everything, Kaneko had the power. She gripped your shoulders and turned you towards the mirror. You tensed, feeling her arm wrapped around your shoulders. You watched as she tilted her head this way and that before...smirking. “You know...this might be beautiful. Mascara, maybe some lip gloss and we might have something.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you had been holding once she moved away. “I’ll need some blush, Nori, get your brush.”

You were frozen, watching as each item was brought out and laid on the bathroom counter. A new jacket, skirt, perfume, a pallet of...color? You gripped your bag, trying to figure out what on earth was going on.

“Take that thing off - it smells.”

The...thing? You saw the Nori’s staring at you, waiting for you to comply. You glanced down at your cardigan, pausing only a moment to sniff the sleeve. It...wait, did it smell? Would they lie to you? You fumbled with the buttons, sliding it off your shoulders. Makino snatched it out of your hands and before you knew it, it was tossed in the garbage.

“Now, let’s make her beautiful.”

In that moment, you understood what was happening. As Kaneko stepped forward, the smirk on her face, she watched you. This...was an invitation. Into their group. Into the inner sanctum of popularity and the safety it brought. No more bullies, no more humiliation, no more terror.

“Okay?”

“Okay!”

They don’t tell you that being popular is more hell than it’s worth.

You wouldn’t say you and the Nori’s were...friends. It felt more professional than anything else. You had a strict uniform you had to stick to - above what the school required. Any accessory had to be approved by the trio. All meals had to be approved by Ueda - needless to say, the packed lunches your mother made every morning every morning included with a handwritten note never seemed to make the cut. The make up you did every morning never was good enough.

They had high standards, more inline with a sort of...job than actual friendship. In fact, over the past few weeks, it had been hard to tell if the three Nori’s were even friends to begin with. There was definitely a power struggle between Kaneko - the obvious leader - and Ueda - who tried to exert her dominance every chance she could but was shot down by Kaneko. Moniko was harder to figure out, more happy to follow than to lead. She was...nicer than the other two, though you weren’t entirely sure if it was simply because she didn’t want the drama or if she just...simply didn’t understand that what she said held weight beyond being...noises in the air.

Dear Diary - It just seems like our job is being...popular and shit.

“There you are!”

When Kaneko wasn’t around Ueda was hardly as docile. It was hard to tell she had thorns at all when she was standing next to the Cactus that was the head Nori. But any chance she got, she made sure to inform you in less subtle ways that you weren’t welcome among the three of them.

Which was obvious. Your name wasn’t Nori.

You jumped as Ueda’s hand slammed your book shut on your fingers. “Nori wants you in the caf - now.”

Moniko hardly offered you a glance as you flexed the pain from your joints. “Is that so? What for?”

Ueda snorted, “I don’t know. She just said to get your ass there...now.”

You normally punched out for lunch. You sighed, pushing yourself away from your desk and standing up. “How very.”

If the two Nori’s heard your remark, they didn’t say anything. Nor did they relay it to Nori Kaneko when the three of you had reached the cafe.

The Nori table was the nicest table in the entire cafeteria. With the perfect white table cloths, centered exactly in the middle of the room, other kids from the “popular groups” would migrate around it like a port. They would stay for the entire period or would flit about from table to table. And at it’s head, sat Nori Kaneko. She sat with her legs crossed, talking to another student who’s name you couldn’t quite place. You always thought you had been good with names. Turns out, you just didn’t know many people.

“Ah, you’re finally here. Took you long enough.”

When Kaneko had offered the make over and...”admission” into the popular crowd, you had thought maybe you pegged her wrong. Maybe she was just a normal kid, wrapped up in the politics of High School. It didn’t take long for you to realize she was still the same mythic bitch you had thought she had been - you just did things for her now.

“I need you to forge a note - in Souta Ishii’s handwriting.” With a snap of her fingers, the boy she had been talking to reached into his pocket and yanked out a few folded up pieces of paper. You didn’t need to open them to know what they were. But when you did, you couldn’t find yourself surprised at the fact Souta was barely passing most of his classes.

“You’ll need something to write on. Bend over, Nori.”

One day, it would stop shocking you how quickly Ueda would act to Kaneko’s command. You paused, looking to your superior for a moment. “Uh...I could just-”

“You’re not sitting with us.” She answer simply.

“...right.” You took the paper and pen offered by Moniko. You flexed your digits, feeling the flutter under your skin. “What do you want it to say?”

“‘Hey baby girl, I’ve been watching you and thinking about us in the good old days. I hope you can come to my party this weekend. We can talk about us. Love, Souta.’“ She leaned over, watching your hand glide over the paper in barely legible chicken scratch. “Put an XO after the ‘Souta’ too.”

It was gone the second the O was done. She looked over the note again. “Perfect.”

There was a glint in her eye that didn’t...settle well with you. With your quirk, you noticed certain...things about people. Little ticks and tells that everyone has. Ueda scrunched her nose when she didn’t like something - like everyone. Moniko would fidget with her hands when she was nervous - like everyone. And Kaneko would get a little sparkle in her eyes when she was about to ruin someone’s life.

With each fold of the paper, you stomach dropped closer and closer to your feet. “What’s that for, anyway?”

You never really questioned why she did half of what she did. It wasn’t like you could do anything to stop it. “You know how Souta used to hang out with Arisu Nomaru?”

Of course you did. You considered Arisu a friend - a good one. She was the really only nice person at this school. Of course, hanging out with the Nori’s meant that quality time with Arisu was...well, all but non existent at that point. But she assured you, through texts, that everything was fine. It was exciting! That maybe, she could join you and the Nori’s for lunch one day. It wasn’t possible, of course. You never even bothered to broach the subject to the three. Arisu was never going to be in the popular crowd and would be stuck watching them from a distance.

The only other constant in Arisu’s life - aside from her kindness and her exile from popularity - was the undying love she had for Souta Ishii. Ever since...

“We all hung out with Arisu. In kindergarten.”

Kaneko scoffed, looking up at you from under perfect lashes. “Well, we didn’t all kiss her on the soccer field.”

You had to fight your body’s desire to snatch the paper out of Nori’s hand.

Monika gagged next to you. “Oh my god! I forgot Souta kissed Arisu Nomaru. It was disgusting!!”

It took everything you had not to hit her. She met your glare with cool indifference, adding a laugh for good measure.

“Souta! Just the man I wanted to see!”

Souta was a...handsome man to say the least. You didn’t blame Arisu for having the crush she had on him, not by any means. But what he had in looks, he lacked in anything worthy of personality - aside from just being a huge dick. And where there was a Souta there was Jun Goto. His best friend. He was the smartest one out of his group of friends.

Which amounted as much as being the tallest dwarf, but hey - credit where credit was due. They were both smart enough to know to come when a Nori called you - no questions asked. And in a flash, the two pulled themselves up and made a beeline for the table - not after giggling to themselves first.

“Be a sweetie and give this note to Arisu Nomaru for me.”

Dread immediately filled your stomach. “What? No!”

“What the hell are you talking to Arisu for?” Jun demanded, reaching for the note.

“Don’t read it! She was having a heavy flow, and wanted some advice from Gyno.”

“That’s fucking disgusting!” You would have thought the boy had been burned with the way he flicked the paper onto the table, back away and retreat to the table he had come from.

“Yeah, I’ll take that.” You snatched the note up, gripping it tightly in your hand.

It had been a while since anyone had stared at you with such venom. If looks could kill, Kaneko would have you dead to rights. Her eyes darkened as she glared at you, hands slowly moving to her hips.

But you weren’t going to allow yourself to back down. Not over this. This was too much. “Arisu has had a crush on Souta for 13 years. This...” You waved the note. “This would kill her.”

It was quiet for a moment - and in that moment, you realized you made the biggest mistake of your fucking life. Nori smiled, stepping forward with a soft chuckle. “I didn’t realize we had a problem.”

“We’re not but-”

“Are we going to have a problem?”

You faltered for a moment.

“No, I just-”

“So you have a bone to pick.”

“No, Nori I just think you’re bigger than-”

“You know, when I dragged you out of the dredges of inferiority, I was shocked how far you would go.”

Before you knew it, she had succeeded in pushing you down onto the bench. Your elbow slammed into the top, causing you to cry out. Immediately, all eyes were on you. “So you wanna tell me, why now, are you pulling on my dick?”

“Nori! I’m not trying to argue with you! Just doing this-”

“I know!” She snatched the note from your hands. “It will ruin her. That’s the fucking point.” She offered the note to Ueda, who happily took it. You watched helplessly as she skipped back over to Souta. While he didn’t seem too pleased to be the one to deliver the note, he begrudgingly got up from his spot and headed to the corner of the cafeteria.

"You still have a lot to learn about how things work around here." You swallowed, digging your nails into the palm of you hand. "This whole school is my own personal candy store. I do what I want, when I want."

You watched as he slammed a fist on the table, causing Arisu to jump. She froze, stuttered, and then almost dropped the note when he tossed it to her. Your heart hammered - maybe if you got there fast enough, you could stop her from reading it. You could distract her and -

You were forced back down in your spot and perfectly manicured nails dug into your skin. “You got a good thing going here,” Kaneko stated, very matter of factly. “You could join the team, or you could bitch and moan.” You winced when her nails dug deeper into your skin. “But if you test me one more time, you will end up just. Like. Her."

Ueda grinned, an ugly, spiteful thing. "Welcome to our Candy-"

"Shut up, Nori!" All three of you flinched as your leader stood. Fixing her skirt, she offered you a sweet smile that made your stomach roll. "We'll see you after school."

They left you in that spot for a long time, staring at your hands. It wasn’t until you felt a tap on your shoulder that you finally looked up. And there above you was Arisu. She grinned and offered you the note. “Look! Look what Souta wrote me! He invited me to his party this weekend.”

You stared at the paper, then back up at her. You tried to smile - though it didn’t look like she noticed. “This proves he’s been thinking about me!”

She...seemed happy. And you knew in this school that happiness was hard to come by. Especially with people like Nori’s. You opened your mouth, before closing it again. You stared at that letter, at the handwriting that perfectly matched the papers left on the table. You could tell her, warn her it was a prank. Just...break her heart and tell her Souta wanted nothing to do with her.

“...color me stoked!” You grinned.

You were happy when she left. With a heavy sigh, you buried your face in your hands and ignored the bell above your head. You listened to the shuffling of your peers as they made their way towards the doors.

What the hell were you doing? What the fuck did you just do? Arisu had always been a good friend to you and you threw her under the bus? For what? Popularity? Safety?

“You shouldn’t have bowed down to those dogs. They’ll eat that girl alive.”

You had grown used to most voices, labeling them by people who was more likely to hit you or simply ignore your presence entirely.

But his voice? You had never heard that voice before. It was pleasant in it’s own way - low, guttural, and deceptively indifferent to the advice he was giving you. You sat up, turning to look over your shoulder. Your eyes trailed up to stark white hair. Bright blue eyes stared down at you, hands in his pockets. Your breath caught in your chest and your mind scrambled for a response. “I’m...I’m sorry, what?”

He watched you for a moment. Sizing you up. “Look,” He continued, “You clearly have a soul. You just need to work a little harder to keep it clean.” With a final shrug, he turned on his heel and made his way for the door. "We're all marked for evil."

Did...did he just...quote at you? It took you a moment for your mind to catch up to what he said. “Okay, don’t just quote Baudelaire at me and walk away. Excuse me?”

You scrambled to your feet. He stopped and turned to look at you. He didn’t move to say anything else however, leaving you in charge of continuing the conversation. You looked him over, took in his long, lanky form, the mess of white hair, they...very pretty eyes. You cleared your throat and motioned to him. “I...uh...I didn’t catch your name.”

He waited a moment before shrugging. “That’s cause I didn’t throw it.”

You watched him turn back around and make his way towards the door, mouth hanging down to your chest. It didn’t take long for you to realize how hot your cheeks were burning, how fast your heart was racing. You couldn’t help as your lips broke out into a smile.

You swore he stole another gaze at you him slip out into the hall.

So yeah. I’ll edit this later. Promise.

How did everyone enjoy their holiday season?

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once-upon-a-pirate-ship · 3 years ago

Text

it would kill me (if you didn't know)

I know. Trust me, I know. But I've been working on my novel, and when this fic slapped me in the face last night, I just went with it. And so should you.

Neverland AU - canon divergence for somewhere in 3a

(Blatant disregard of canon to follow--don't make me rewatch the show, please)

They saved Henry but all got separated in the process, and when they finally made it back to the ship, Emma realized that they were down a man. She's just gonna have to save him.

This features some pretty awesome Emma/David bonding, too.

This is a classic 'Killian's been taken while saving them and now he's being tortured and Emma isn't gonna stand for it' fic. I've read them all, and I just needed more. POV switches 3rd person between Killian and the others.

Thanks in advance for accepting the sidestepping of canon that I love to do.

Rated M for language and violence

length: 5k+

Read it on ao3

In retrospect, it wasn’t the greatest plan he’d ever had. But it also wasn’t the worst. Well, it could hardly even be called a plan, really, given that the consideration for it occurred in approximately three seconds, but he was hardly going to worry about it now. There were other things to worry about.

The thing that Killian Jones, pirate captain of the Jolly Roger and unofficial Neverland guide to Swan (and the others), needed to be worried about was the little demon child Peter fucking Pan who stood over him with that stupid evil smirk on his lips.

“Seems like you’ve finally lost, pirate,” Pan spat, but the amusement in his tone only sharpened the anger in his eyes.

Killian’s gaze flickered from the child to the grove in the distance, and when he saw not a trace of the others, he returned his attention to Pan. “Aye, I suppose so,” he said, his voice rough though calm and certain.

Pan’s brow furrowed. “Really? No witty remark? No promise to skin me alive?” he taunted. “You’ve changed your tune, Hook.”

He resisted rolling his eyes, instead gripping his wounded shoulder a little tighter. The arrow wasn’t poisoned—he’d have felt it working by now—but it wasn’t helping his predicament at all. Neither was the sizeable gash on his abdomen that Felix had been kind enough to gift him when he’d been distracted.

“Have I?” Killian asked. “I wonder what you’ll do with me now,” he added dryly. He knew. Oh, he knew.

Pan’s eyes flashed, and in an instant he was crouching towards Killian, his hand grasping the protruding arrow. “Now, I get to have my fun,” he declared with a cruel twist of his lips and an even crueler twist of the arrow.

But Killian Jones was no stranger to pain. They were intimately acquainted. That’s how he grit his teeth and buried it until nothing but a tiny grunt sounded from deep within his throat. Pan wouldn’t consider his torture much fun if he didn’t scream in agony, so he would keep playing until Killian could fight it no longer. And he’d let him. Because egging him on would make him lash out, and ensuring him of Swan’s victory would put her and the lad in danger. Pan had spent his time since their arrival playing games with them, distracting them from the important things they’d come there to do. It was only fair that Killian would return the favor.

So the demon could pull out all his toys, could whip him and carve into his flesh, could burn him until his skin was blackened ash, but nothing would stop Killian Jones from protecting his loved ones. And gods above, he loved Emma Swan.

All she wanted to know was how the fuck this happened. Their plan had been so perfect that even she couldn’t doubt it, but somehow the winds had shifted or their luck had run out or her luck had run out, and when they returned to the Jolly Rodger and the groups had reunited, they’d been down a man. Down a captain.

Neal, for all his talk of fighting for her, didn’t seem to mind not fighting for something that she actually cared about. He was running for president of the Let’s Leave the Pirate Here Club, and that wasn’t exactly a great way to get into her good graces, though that would’ve been hard enough as it was.

Regina, predictably, prioritized Henry to a fault—Emma was always for prioritizing her son, but not when it came to sacrificing her values or her morals or whatever, fine, she just didn’t want to sacrifice him. Henry was okay, he was safe, and they could take precautions to ensure that he would stay that way, but Regina just didn’t care or didn’t think it was worth it. A good option for Neal’s vice president.

In all her silent canvassing of the group’s feelings regarding Operation Save Hook (Henry was asleep, okay? He could come up with a better name when he woke up), Emma blatantly ignored Gold. For obvious reasons.

Tink was mostly for saving him, but not confident enough in any plan she could offer to make it stick. She’d tried to sway Regina, but that had been less than successful.

Then it was her parents. And, for once, they weren’t in total agreement.

Mary Margaret was sympathetic, to be sure, but not enough. She wasn’t in the Let’s Leave the Pirate Here Club, but she was Queen of Save My Kid and Her Kid Kingdom, so that was that.

But David—that’s what had caught her attention.

When they’d first discovered Hook’s absence and began discussing their options, Emma had held back and held her breath, unwilling to reveal her hand without knowing where the others stood. She’d gone into full Observant Mode, and that’s when she saw David, her father, and his reaction.

His face stiffened, an automatic move to hide his feelings, but Emma saw through it, even when Mary Margaret didn’t (or didn’t want to see it). It was a set jaw, a twitching lip that was almost a frown, tensed shoulders that eventually gave way to firmly crossed arms because apparently, Emma had gotten her Observant Mode from her father, and that’s what he was doing.

A few minutes into the conversation had nothing decided, but Emma shifted her stance, and her father looked her way. Their eyes locked, and while the others continued their pathetic excuse for a rescue discussion, father and daughter exchanged practically imperceptible nods, and then they were allies.

It’s what gave her the strength to step forward at last and disregard whatever half-assed ‘it’s too late’ speech Neal had been giving with a pointed clearing of her throat.

“David and I will go back for him while you guys get the ship ready,” Emma announced. Regina did that haughty half-step back that meant something between ‘I don’t care’ and ‘do whatever you want,’ and Mary Margaret’s only response was to look questioningly at her husband. Tinker Bell gave an enthusiastic nod of approval before busying herself with some bit of the rigging she may or may not have actually understood how to work.

Neal, however, was predictably Neal. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Ems,” he said, that stupid nickname that he had no fucking right to use.

Emma’s head turned slowly to her ex, regarding him with the coldest gaze she’d ever offered anyone. Regina had some competition as head of the Looks That Could Kill Committee. “Hm, okay. Well, you don’t have to think it’s a good idea, because you’re staying here.”

“Emma—”

“There’s no discussion, Neal. No discussion from anyone, but especially from you. You have no right to talk, or interfere, and you especially have no right to argue against saving the man who is the reason your own son is alive and safe now.”

Mary Margaret was staring at her when she turned away from him, her eyes wide and openly confused, but she said nothing. David, however, had his eyes cutting into Neal, narrowed and calculating and damn, he was putting pieces together and he wasn’t liking the picture.

“Ready?” Emma asked her father.

He forced himself to look away. “Just have to grab one thing,” he told her, shaking his head at something Mary Margaret had said before he disappeared below.

Neal had huffed away after Emma’s little scolding, and he pouted at the exact opposite end from where his father pouted. Regina looked disinterested and mildly irritated, but when Emma glanced at her, she nodded towards Gold with a raised eyebrow.

Emma’s lips curled in something like a grateful smile, and she passed her bewildered mother on her way to the Dark One.

“You have something,” Emma said as soon as she stood in front of him. “Something to get Pan.”

“I do, Miss Swan,” he replied, that stupid tone that told her he had tricks up those stupid sleeves of his.

She hummed. “No, there’s no deal this time. No price. I’m done with games. So you can either give it to me, or I can take it from you.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Take it from me?” he asked, entirely amused by the concept.

“I’m done with your shit, Crocodile. You can play Dark One with me all you want, but we both know it’s just easier to just hand it over.”

He glared at her for a long moment, but eventually he cracked, and he glanced at his son who looked out at the water and away from them both. “Fine. But only because I’ve no use for it anyway.”

She took the box he offered, resisting the urge to mutter, ‘yes, that’s why,’ as he explained how it worked. When he’d finished, she offered him a simple but genuine “thank you,” before joining her father once more.

“Here,” David said, passing her another cutlass, one she hadn’t seen before. “You need a new weapon,” he added.

“And I’m borrowing…”

“Hook’s. An extra,” he said. “Figured he wouldn’t mind.”

“Right,” she mumbled, taking it with a frown and securing it quickly. “Well then, let’s go.”

For all his talk of being intimately acquainted with pain, Killian Jones was doing a piss-poor job of hiding it. The cracks in his resolve were starting to widen, and when hums and grunts became groans and low growls, he knew it was only a matter of time before Pan started to truly have his fun.

He’d been more clever this time around, to be sure. It had to have been at least a century since Killian had gotten cozy with the demon’s knife (or arrowhead, or branding iron, or whatever particular weapon he’d chosen to use that time), but Pan had certainly honed his skills quite a bit since then.

But Killian was sure that Swan had taken her lad and the others far away by now, and the knowledge that he’d helped her, that he’d kept his word, allowed him the strength he needed to keep the screams from coming.

For a while.

Pan, though, had used a trick on him he’d never experienced, and the shock alone was enough to get it working for a little while.

That trick came in the form of her, of Emma Swan, and the name had fallen from his lips like a prayer, hope that he’d never felt before rising like a rushing tide in his chest, and she’d smiled at him, a radiant, lovely thing that he’d never imagined could’ve been gifted solely for him, useless pirate that he was.

But then she’d started talking, and he knew it was a trick (tides always come back, because when there’s a rise, there’s also a fall). Not at first, he’d give Pan that, because it was easy enough to believe that the smile hadn’t been for him, that she resented him, that she hadn’t meant to save him, that they were better off without him. It wasn’t what she said that tipped him off, it was how she said it. Because Killian Jones had studied her since the moment she uncovered his pathetic hide in that pile of bodies, and he knew her—more than she knew herself, to her dismay—and he could read her. She was an open book, after all.

When her eyes didn’t burn like he knew they should’ve when she spoke of anger and hatred, he knew. When her lips didn’t quirk in that one specific way when she mentioned abandoning him, he knew. And then she spoke about her parents and Baelfire, and it was all wrong, because Emma Swan had walls, and even Neverland wasn’t enough to break them down so quickly.

Wherever she was, Emma Swan wasn’t about to run into her parents’ arms and live happily ever after with them and her True Love, because she wasn’t there yet. He knew her. He knew how hard it was for her to open up to him, someone who understood her from such shared experiences, and that wasn’t something she could just overlook as soon as she returned home. They’d hurt her—here, in Neverland, with assumptions and confessions and automatic behaviors, but also before. And if she did wish to ride off into the sunset with Baelfire, Neal, it wasn’t going to happen right away, because Killian had watched her while she shifted away from Neal when he’d moved towards her. He’d seen the way she recoiled at his touch, how she’d narrowed those jade eyes at his words, how she didn’t trust him, not anymore.

No, the Emma Swan that stood before his beaten and bruised body was a copy, and a bad one. When she hadn’t achieved her goal, she disappeared, and Pan took her place, and though he knew the demon was mocking him and prodding him with insults and hoping they’d smash the last of his resolve, he wasn’t ready to give in just yet.

Killian Jones was waiting for something. He just couldn’t figure out what it was.

“What’d he do?”

Emma faltered, the blade missing the piece of jungle shit in her path she’d been trying to cut down. “What? Who?”

“Neal,” her father said, clearing the vines for her before they continued on.

“Oh,” she sounded, pulling her lips together as she considered what to say. He’d noticed it before, and she knew that. He wasn’t stupid, nor was he as hope-prone and naive as Mary Margaret could often be. And they had another few miles to go, at least. “He left,” she said.

David stopped, a hand on her arm that was more than just an attempt to stop her from walking, too. “He left you?” he asked, his eyes somehow tight with rage and tender with something she wanted to dub dad-ness, because no one had ever looked at her like that before.

Emma huffed, because now was definitely not the time for Feelings, now was the time to rescue a goddamn pirate from whatever the hell Peter fucking Pan was doing to him. “He set me up to take the fall for his crime and let me go to prison instead. I didn’t find out I was pregnant until I was already in jail.”

David blinked once, twice, and then his expression was consumed by dad-anger (because it was just a different brand of anger that she’d also never seen before). “Emma—”

“It was a long time ago, dad.” They both started at the name, dad, because she’d never really used it before. A few times she’d said it, but it was something she’d had to force, a correction or a pointed joke, sometimes a near-death thing, but this was different. Authentic. Slightly heartbreaking.

“We don’t have time for this,” she muttered as she turned away, but neither was surprised, and even her dad wasn’t hurt, because Emma had her walls, and that was okay, because she’d needed them to survive this long. And if he had to put in a little time and effort to help take them down, that didn’t bother him one bit.

“I was kinda surprised that you wanted to come,” she said after a while, unable to bear the tense atmosphere any longer.

David gave her a half-smile, slicing another thicket (because they’d grown over since they’d returned to the ship. Fuck Neverland, honestly). “He did save my life, you know. And he was saving Henry when an arrow hit him—before your mother and I got separated from the group. I wasn’t about to leave him for dead after he took an arrow for my grandson.”

Emma froze, nearly dropping the cutlass that wasn’t hers. “He saved Henry?”

Her father’s eyebrows furrowed. “I thought you knew that,” he said. “So why are you so eager to help him? If you didn’t know.”

Her lips parted only to press together firmly, and when she spoke, they both knew it wasn’t a lie, but it also wasn’t the whole truth. “Because I don’t leave people behind. And even without the arrow, he still saved Henry. He brought us here.”

David studied her for a moment, and these pieces were coming together faster now, and quite suddenly, the picture made a lot of sense. “He came back.”

“For Henry. And Neal,” she replied.

“And you.”

She couldn’t deny it, and he knew that. But it surprised him that he didn’t mind it as much as he had before. Emma’s walls, no matter how much he wished he could change it, were in part because of him and Snow. They saved her, yes, but they abandoned her when they did it. And Neal had likely been the cause of the other fortress that surrounded her, because he’d abandoned her, too.

So if the pirate had gained her trust and her respect because he hadn’t abandoned her, then that was good. David had seen plenty of love and devotion in his life, but he’d never seen loyalty like the kind that burned in Captain Hook. Centuries in search of revenge for the one he’d loved and lost. That wasn’t the man who would turn around and abandon her the second the opportunity arose.

No, without him or the pirate realizing it, he’d pretty much gained his blessing. Because David knew damn well that if the roles were reversed, not even if Emma herself were in danger, but if Hook were here in his place and someone she loved was being tortured, there’s no one he would trust more than Captain Hook to help her. Neal had barely batted an eye. But he was apparently quite skilled at leaving people to rot.

David was just beginning to contemplate how to handle that particular situation when the screams started.

He took his daughter’s hand, meeting her huge and watery eyes, and they ran.

He’d held on so long, but it was worth it. It was worth it. No, she was worth it. Emma Swan was worth it.

Emma. Emma. Emma.

Her name became a mantra, a song in his head to fill the space between screams.

Killian Jones had loved Milah. He never doubted that, and his love for another didn’t negate it, either. He wasn’t sure what made his love for Emma Swan sharper, deeper, but it was just different. His working theory was that they’d both loved before, both been hurt before, both lingered in something that was slightly less than pure. Whatever had happened with Baelfire couldn’t have been perfect, because it hurt her. And she’d been so young when she’d had Henry. Milah wasn’t faultless, either. Ironically enough, that point was proven by Baelfire.

Killian had spoken to her about it for hours. She’d spun tales of rescuing the lad, taking him from his pathetic father and bringing him aboard, but it never happened. It wasn’t until Henry was taken from Swan that he realized the downfall of his Milah. He’d known it, truly, but nothing would have stopped Swan from getting back her son, and it should’ve been the same with Milah.

For a moment, the pain of his guilt overwhelmed the pain of Pan’s lash that sliced into his back.

But that was what made his love for Emma Swan different.

Try something new, darling. It’s called trust.

Be a part of something.

Too bad he’d never have the chance to explain it all to her.

Emma had seen so much in her life. So much pain, so much ugliness—it had made her start to believe that there was really nothing else. But then Henry showed up at her door, and things changed.

Now, standing in her hiding place with her father, she was forced to watch as the demon child inflicted brutal and unrelenting torture to Captain Hook—no, no, he wasn’t Hook anymore. Not after this. He was Killian Jones, and she was going to save him.

She just couldn’t jump in and do it. Not without a plan.

Once they’d decided who was the distraction and who was taking the box, they were ready, but she wasn’t. Each scream pierced her heart, and by this point, the tears were just a permanent fixture that neither of them acknowledged. You couldn’t listen to that kind of pain and not feel it down to your goddamn soul. And she knew that as much as it hurt to hear it, Killian was hurting a thousand times worse while he endured it.

It had only been hours, maybe, but she’d never seen a person look so broken and not be actually dead, and it felt like her fault. Because maybe if she’d been strong and reasonable enough to let go of Henry’s hand for even a second, she would’ve realized that he wasn’t at her side like he was supposed to be. Sure, they’d all been separated into groups that slowly returned to the ship, but she should’ve known. She should’ve been there. He shouldn’t have been here.

None of that mattered now. It was time to save him, and then she could worry about everything else.

Her father kissed her forehead, brushing her tears with his thumbs and offering her a reassuring nod that said we’ve got this, and then he disappeared to play his part. When she stepped into the clearing, she was much more confident than she had any right to be.

“Pan.”

The kid snapped to attention, whirling around to look at her. “Really? You’ve come to rescue the pirate?”

His words, his face, his stupid grin pissed her the fuck off, but what really sold it, the thing that solidified everything for her was the sight of Killian’s hook tucked into Peter Pan’s pocket like it was a fucking souvenir.

“Well, you know what they say about us hero types,” Emma stalled, keeping herself from glancing at Killian where he lay in the dirt. “We don’t leave anyone behind. We come back for everyone. It’s just in our nature.” She had no idea what she was actually saying, she was just talking, just waiting until her father got into place.

“I’m afraid I can’t let you take the pirate, Emma. He’s mine, you see,” Pan told her, and she thought that he’d never looked less than a child with the straight-up evil in his eyes and the weapon in his hand.

She folded her arms across her chest, pulling on strength she didn’t have. “Hm, no, I don’t think he is,” she said, letting some of her anger seep into her voice. “He’s a pirate, sure, but you and I both know that he’s pretty determined about that good form nonsense, and he made me a promise, you know,” Emma continued. “He told me he’d see to it that Henry gets home safely. He can’t do that if he’s here.”

Pan’s shoulders shifted as his chest puffed out, and he wanted something. “How about this,” he said, “the pirate in exchange for your son.”

Emma scoffed. “As I told the Dark One earlier, I’m done playing games. No deals. I’m leaving this island with my son and my pirate and everyone else, and that’s it. You lose, kid.”

Peter Pan grinned, and if she hadn’t just seen David out of the corner of her eye, she would’ve been terrified. “How’s that? I’m not going to let you leave with Henry or the pirate, no matter how much you’re convinced I’m going to,” he said, almost petulant.

“Sorry, I should’ve been clearer,” Emma smiled, “I should’ve mentioned the part about you being captured. Whoops. Too late.”

Emma surged forward, snatching the hook just before Pan was sucked into Pandora’s box from David’s outstretched hand. Neither he nor Emma hesitated for a second before they rushed to Killian where he was no more than a pile of cuts and bruises on the ground, stripped of his coat and his vest and his bravado.

David rolled him onto his side carefully, shooting her a concerned look when he didn’t even flinch.

The hook fell from her grasp and onto the ground beside them. “Killian?” Emma said softly, her hand reaching out to ghost across his sweaty forehead. If she didn’t see the rise and fall of his chest in time with the shuddering breaths he took, she would’ve been certain he was dead, because anyone else would’ve been dead.

“Emma, I have no idea how we’re going to move him when he’s like this,” her father told her, and if he were someone else, that would’ve meant that they’d run out of options, but hope was the family motto.

Emma pushed out a breath, bringing her hands back to her face, running them over her hair and locking a few fingers around her necklace. “Alright, okay, lemme think,” she said, but of course that was when her brain turned to absolute mush.

Time, nonexistent here though it was, was marked with Killian’s shaky breaths, and several minutes passed before David spoke. “Emma…” he began, and when she looked at him, that family motto was shining in his eyes. “Emma, you have magic. You can heal him.”

“I—” I can’t, she wanted to say. But it didn’t matter that she’d never done it, that she had no idea how to, because she’d do it. She’d do anything to save this stupid, ridiculous, insufferable, amazing pirate. He promised that he’d win her heart, and she wasn’t about to lose him right when she finally had a chance to let him.

“How?” she asked, hoping—yes, Emma Swan did things like hope now—he’d know something helpful.

David hesitated, as if he were gathering everything he’d ever learned about magic. “Okay, your magic is about emotion, right?” At her nod, he continued, “Well, that’s good, because you’re feeling a lot of things right now. You want to help him, to heal him, so maybe think about why?”

Emma chuckled, and it was a watery thing, but she wiped the dampness from her cheeks. “I don’t think I’ve cried this much since…I have no idea when,” she confessed.

David met her gaze, taking her hand and giving it a squeeze. “Use it.”

She took a breath, her eyes slamming shut so she could focus, but her hand didn’t leave her father’s.

Why was she crying now, this much, after everything? She wasn’t a crier (you couldn’t be in the system that long and still be a crier), so what had changed? All at once, she knew.

Captain Hook is what changed. Killian Jones had towered her walls, and now she was crying over him. Because she felt things. Things with a capital ‘t,’ and it was the first time in her life that she was finally, truly letting herself feel Things, the first time she honestly wanted to. There hadn’t really been a choice with Neal. He was just there, and that’s why she’d loved him. She was young, and he offered her this tiny piece of security and she’d latched onto it, and that was it. It wasn’t even about him, not really, not when she broke it down like that. Everything she felt for Killian Jones was about him.

Right from the start, he’d terrified her, because he could see right through her walls like they were made of glass. He read her because he already spoke the fucking language, but she hadn’t let herself understand that piece until later. But how many times had she been standing beside her family (she had that now), knowing that things were off or just not feeling right because they didn’t quite get it—but then she’d looked over and he’d been watching her because he got it. He knew. And he came back.

Killian Jones had never abandoned her. Well, there was that one time he locked her in a cell, but that was only because she’d just chained him up on the top of a beanstalk and it was honestly only fair, so that was different. Every moment when she waited for him to race off while in Neverland, when leaving her to her fate would’ve been the smart and easy thing to do, he’d proven her wrong (but she wasn’t really wrong, because she didn’t really believe it. She’d trusted him right from the start, and each time he didn’t leave her was somehow both totally surprising and totally predictable).

But it wasn’t just that. It was everything she saw in him when he thought no one was looking. The shadows that crossed his face when they ran into something familiar, the hesitance when offered assistance by anyone, the mysteriously filled waterskins that appeared by her bedroll after his watch. Everything he did for her and her family was a promise that he was no longer a villain—that maybe he’d never actually been one—and she could doubt everyone else (except for Henry), but she couldn’t doubt Killian Jones.

She was falling for him. Hard. She probably already would’ve fallen if she’d let herself, especially if she’d gone with her gut at the top of that beanstalk and trusted him, so she wasn’t about to let him die.

Emma raised her free hand, feeling all of her Feelings and thinking all of the Things, and she healed him, because she needed to. She felt the warmth that radiated from her palm, and when her eyes flickered open, there was a brilliant light that washed over his face and followed the path of her hand as she hovered along his body. The cuts shrank, sealing themselves while the blood seeped back into his skin, and when his breaths were no longer labored, she knew he was healed.

Her father gave her a proud smile (it was watery, too), but their attention was quickly brought back to the groaning pirate.

Killian’s eyes took several fluttering blinks before they focused correctly, and when he spoke, it was no more than a disoriented grunt. “Swan?”

“We’re here,” she said, releasing David’s hand to take Killian’s. “We trapped Pan, Henry’s safe on the Jolly Roger, and now all we need is for you to take us home.”

His eyes were stormy when he looked up at her, and his rough palm lined up with her soft one, and for a single, fleeting moment, it was as if he’d never felt pain in his life. The warmth, the ease, the life he felt holding Emma Swan’s hand made him briefly forget the hours of torture from Pan, and for what may have honestly been the first time in his life, Killian Jones felt safe.

There were many questions that he needed to ask, ones he hadn’t had the chance to think of with his present exhaustion, but he pushed them aside, because she was smiling that smile, the one he’d never imagined could be directed and him, and it lacked the tightness that Pan’s version had. Where Pan’s version had pranced around words, the real Swan was straight to the point and not flowery about anything. But what was most comforting about this Swan was that even though her smile was warm and lovely and nothing like he’d ever seen on her lips, he could see her walls hidden in her gaze, that lingering hesitance, and he knew. She’d come back for him.

“Think you can walk?” David asked him, and it almost made the pirate jump (centuries of always being on his guard, always prepared and aware of his surroundings, and Emma Swan gave him one smile and held his only hand and that was enough to block out the rest of the realm).

Killian nodded, and with some careful maneuvering by Swan and her father, he was upright. He wavered slightly—blood loss, he reasoned, because Emma had definitely healed him with her magic, but there was only so much magic could do—but they secured both of his arms without delay.

“Oh,” Emma paused, bending down to grab his hook. “Thought you’d want this back,” she added with a smile that was almost sheepish.

It was the way she held it that made him lightheaded (not at all related to the blood loss). Her hand was wrapped around the metal like it was nothing but also everything. She didn’t fear it, didn’t scrunch her nose at it—the way she held it was like the way she held his hand: a part of him, something she couldn’t quite bring herself to let go of.

“Thank you, Emma,” he murmured, and all three of them knew it wasn’t just for returning the hook. He gestured for her to attach it, and after a glance of confirmation, she did. And he couldn’t help but feel whole.

#once upon a time fanfiction #ouat fanfic #captain swan #captain swan fanfic #cs ff #captain swan fic #ao3 #Neverland fic #ouat neverland #this is me avoiding my novel and my other actual wip

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