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likeastarstar · 3 years ago

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Birthday Boy

summary: WARNING! smut ahead. It's Namu's birthday and you're in love with him and his body and how it looks in the shower.

masterlist.

Your boyfriend was a menace.

Seriously, who wakes up at the ass crack of dawn to workout on their birthday of all days? Wasn't anything sacred? Surely his birthday, the day that should be considered an international holiday, was a good enough excuse for a cheat day.

But no, Joon had left you so early you were only just waking up as he returned back the apartment you shared after exercising. You laid in bed, half asleep, watching as your boyfriend immediately shoved his socks off, the sleeveless compression shirt he had on following quickly after. He couldn't even be bothered to wait until he was in the bathroom to strip down, pushing his gym shorts off his hips along with his underwear already balled up in his fists by the time he was halfway across the bedroom.

He took note of your laying form but because of the massive amounts of pillows you insisted on having, he couldn't tell you were awake and currently ogling his extremely perfect, extremely buff, super sexy, oh wow he is gorgeous, body. Maybe him going to the gym was a blessing, maybe you should be more grateful. You were certainly grateful when he turned towards the bathroom and you got to stare at his ass.

Namjoon had the most perfect body in the world, broad, rolling shoulders, his thick neck perfect for biting down on, his soft pecs that you liked to lay on despite the aforementioned mountain of pillows on your bed, the chiseled abs rubbing down the length of his torso and disappearing with two lines dragging directly into the neatly trimmed dark hair of his lap.

His thick thighs you insisted on sitting on far too often, his thighs that you had a habit of rubbing absentmindedly underneath restaurant tables when you went out until he forced you to stop- citing the risk of him popping a semi before dessert. You loved his back, muscular and strong, his arms as equally as pleasing when they were wrapped around you. You had recently become somewhat of a masseuse, gleefully running to get the massage oil when Namjoon came home sore from the gym.

It was the little things.

He was perfect- an adonis among men and that's before you even got to who he was as a person- which was also, shockingly perfect. The kindest, most wise person you had ever known. You loved his big brain as much as his big body and it was your favorite person's birthday today.

His birthday!

You sat up with an excited squeal, running to follow Namjoon as you heard the shower start. He was already in the shower by the time you had stripped off your pajamas, back facing you as he washed the sweat off of himself. You stepped into the steaming shower quickly, wrapping your arms around his waist and hugging him from behind.

"Happy birthday," You smiled, kissing his back where your face was pressed against it. His hands covered yours and squeezed in response before turning around in your arms so that he was facing you with his own shy smile, dimples on full display.

"Thank you, good morning." He said softly, leaning down to kiss you. "I didn't mean to wake you up."

You shook you head and reached for the environmentally friendly sea sponge covered in soap in his hand, squeezing it against his chest and watching the suds drip down his skin before rubbing the sponge on him thoroughly, "I had to get up anyway, it's a big day, lots to do."

"You always take my birthday too seriously," He laughed, squeezing a puddle of the shampoo he liked the smell of on top of your head and massaging it into your scalp.

"I observe the auspicious day the way it's meant to be honored, yes." You noted formally, nodding your head solemnly under his hands.

He laughed and rinsed your hair, rubbing conditioner in the ends before wrapping the length of your hair around his hands and pulling, causing your neck to crane up towards his face. He looked down at you with a devious look on his face, the steam in the shower surrounding the pair of you like a cloud.

"It's my dick's birthday too, you know." He joked, smirking slightly.

You raised your eyebrows and flickered a glance towards where his legs met, noting that he was already beginning to get hard, "I did know that."

"And you should celebrate it too, do something special." He mused, raising his eyebrows in a sort of a dare.

"Oh? Like what?" You challenged, standing on your toes to kiss him. He kissed you possessively, roughly, with his hand still wrapped around your hair so you couldn't really move much.

Namjoon slid his tongue against yours and you let your hands glide down his wet torso, wrapping your fingers around his cock and stroking it slowly. You matched the pace of his tongue against yours, body rolling against his rhythmically. There was barely an inch of space between you and even that was too much.

Namjoon let go of your hair in favor for wrapping his grasp around your neck, guiding you to the glass wall and spinning you around so quickly you let out a gasp of surprise. He reached a hand back and angled the shower head so that it was hitting the top of your back and rolling down, the pressure sending tingles down your spine.

Namjoon's body came up behind yours, pushing his front into your ass and kissing your neck, "You're gonna give me what I want for my birthday, right? I can ask for anything and you'd do it for me, because it's my birthday and you love me?"

"Right, yeah- anything," You breathed out, a moan sitting on the tip of your tongue.

"Good," He grunted, "Now look at yourself."

Your eyes snapped to the mirror on the other side of the bathroom in front of the sink, the reflection of you and Namjoon in the shower staring back at you. The glass had fogged up and the only thing really visible was your tits pressed up against the glass, the palm of Namjoon's hand flattened on the surface of the glass pane above you, caging you in. You moaned at the sight- wondering what you looked like from the back, bent over like a slut.

"I love my birthday," Namjoon laughed, "You get so horny- which is saying something because you're always a slut for your boyfriend. You like making me happy?"

"I like- I like being slutty for you," You moaned, "I like being yours."

"I like being yours too, baby." He grinned, pecking you on the cheek sweetly before kissing down the length of your back. He bit down on your ass cheek like it was an apple, making you moan out embarrassingly.

"Fuck- Joon, it's your birthday, shouldn't I be the one on my knees?" You pointed out, looking down at him from behind your shoulder. He didn't even look up at you, staring instead straight at your pussy, spreading your legs apart gently and watching the water drip down between them.

"No, it's my birthday- I'll eat you out if I want to," He demanded petulantly, "Your pussy is better than a birthday cake anyway."

"Bitch, I got you a cake from Honeybee," You snapped, breaking your horny character for a moment.

Namjoon paused as well, sitting back on his heels and looked up at you with a surprised look on his face. It was a good thing the water wasn't angled at him, otherwise you were pretty sure he would've drowned by now.

"Oh, the chocolate one or the passion fruit one?" He asked eagerly, a hopeful look on his face.

"Chocolate, duh- who do you think I am? I only got the passion fruit cake that one time because I wanted to try it." You grumbled, pouting slightly.

"My girl is so smart, good choice. See? You deserve to get head for that, my sweet little girlfriend got me my favorite cake," Joon gushed, squeezing your ass fondly before licking a broad stripe through your folds and making you forget all about the stupid cake.

He sucked your clit into his mouth and wrapped his tongue around it, pushing the sensitive spot around with a mission while two of his fingers ran through your folds and sunk into your pussy decisively. You moaned, feeling him pump his fingers in and out furiously. You clenched around them, wondering why the hell he was going to fast until he switched his fingers and his mouth, tongue dipping into your honeyed center while his fingers flicked at your clit roughly.

You withered above him, barely able to keep your weight up until you felt an orgasm barreling towards you- "No, no, no, Joon- I'm gonna cum, it's too fast."

"No, it's not," He snapped, words vibrating against your clit as his breath against your skin only sent you closer to the edge. "Birthday boy wants his slut to cum."

His words were the final push you needed, cumming around his tongue in waves of pleasure as his fingers ran circles around you clit, milking your orgasm of everything it was worth. You lost the ability to think for a moment, the air leaving your lungs, and you barely had a chance to catch your breath before Joon was standing behind you, one hand gripped on your hip as he slid his cock into you, thrusting up sharply. You let out a surprised noise that contrasted his low moan in your ear, thankful for the sound of water hiding the sound of how wet you were.

"Come on baby, show me how much you love me," He demanded, slapping a large hand down on the side of your ass hard.

He thrust up into you at a bruising pace, using your body for his own pleasure as you did your best to keep up. Namjoon kept one hand on your clit and wrapped his other arm across your body, pulling you taunt against his chest as his hips snapped against yours. You were barely even standing up on your own, Namjoon holding your body so securely you could probably relax completely and he'd just carry you.

"Cum in me," You begged, slamming a hand against the glass wall to throw your ass back on him better, matching his thrusts now that you had a moment to gather your bearings. "Pl-please, will you please fill me up? Fuck- your dick is so big."

"Yeah baby? Feels good?" He asked, sounding all too pleased with himself.

"F-Feels so good- I want you to fill me up, please?" You stuttered, a pathetic noise leaving your body.

You were desperate for him at this point, reduced to a dumb, messy, whiny slut who just wanted her boyfriend to cum in her pussy.

"Don't worry, I'll give it to you- since you asked so nicely." He obliged, slamming his cock into your pussy like he owned it. "Fill you up nice and full so you can spend the rest of the day thinking about it. Maybe I'll let you suck my cock later if you want more, huh?"

"Y-yes, I want it." You moaned, "I want your cock."

He groaned and his thrusts got sloppier, faster still. He pinched your nipple hard, doing the same to your clit and you came again, clenching hard around him before he followed, the two of you slowing the pace down almost completely. He rocked against you, dragging his cock in and out of you slowly as you felt him cum in you, warmth spreading through your lower belly. Your pussy continued to suck him in, wanting to keep him there for as long as possible before he pulled out and watched his cum drip down your thighs, dragging a finger through it.

He held his hand up to your tongue absentmindedly, trying to resume washing your body with the other as you sucked his cum off of his hand.

"We gotta hurry," He mumbled, trying to speed wash you as if he hadn't just demolished your pussy. You were sensitive and moving slowly, spent from the morning activities. "We've been in here for so long, what a waste of water- why did we do this?"

"Because it's your birthday?" You offered lamely, watching as he turned the water off and lifted you into his arms, carrying you out of the shower.

"You shouldn't encourage me," He tssked, "I let the birthday shit get to my head. Horny or not, one should never waste water."

You rolled your eyes, laughing slightly at Joon's strictness with himself. He set you down on the edge of the vanity and handed you a towel, wrapping one around his waist securely.

"This is your fault for showering, we could've just had morning sex in bed like a normal couple but no- you have to leave me every morning to go to the gym." You pointed out.

"I go to the gym to fuck you better, you should be thanking me." He grunted, leaning against the countertop and kissing you again. "Maybe you could suck my cock before dinner to make it up to me."

"God, the birthday thing did get to your head," You gasped, shaking your head dramatically.

"So no head?" He pouted, an adorably wide eyed look on his face.

"Oh, head for sure." You corrected, nodding eagerly.

It was his birthday, after all.

(A/N: I have created...a monster.)

#namjoon smut #namjoon fic #bts fic #bts smut #namjoon birthday fic #namjoon x you #namjoon x oc #namjoon fluff #namjoon shower sex #bts shower sex #namjoon x reader #kim namjoon fanfiction #namjoon imagine

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peachyysugaa · 3 years ago

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enhypen maknae line as e2l troupe requested by anon

– sunoo

how you became enemies: sunoo is so friendly i don't see how he can make any enemies ;;-;; maybe if you're also a bubbly person, it's an unspoken but real bubbly person competition? JFLGAKLJA basically you just send smiles to each other and everyone thinks you're good with each other, but they're actually lowkey menacing o.o'

"hi sunoo! ^^" is actually ugh you -_- and "hi y/n!! :D" is really try me biss :D

how you became lovers: the both of you eventually become tired of this weird competition you have going on and decided to finally talk to each other. after that, you two start over, become closer and even become best friends that slowly develop feelings for each other!

let's be honest, people were already shipping the two of you, so to see you two finALLY dating makes everyone so happy to see their it couple come to life.

you close your locker door to find someone behind it. this someone was none other than your notorious rival, kim sunoo, with that stupidly charming smile of his.

"hi y/n!" he says to you. usually, his words are laced with a hidden poison, but this time, you detected none of that. raising your eyebrow, it prompts him to go on. "can i talk to you for a moment?"

"sure!" you agree with the best smile you could muster. to outsiders, it may look cordial, maybe even just two friends talking to each other, but the two of you knew that it was far from friendly. nevertheless, you follow him into an empty classroom, where the two of you drop your smiles the moment the door closes. "what is it, kim sunoo?"

he lets out an exasperated sigh. "you know what this is about, y/n, don't give me that."

rolling your eyes, you cross your arms over your chest and shift your weight to one foot. "maybe i do, but i want to hear you say it."

"fine, fine," sunoo says with his hands raised. "i just want this stupid competition of ours to end."

"oh thank goodness you're tired of it too," you admit relieved. "i don't even know we started this anyway."

"whatever the reason, it's all over now," he replies, for once with a genuine smile on his face, for once directed towards you. if you said it didn't make you feel even one thing, you would be lying. you're hyperaware of every move he makes as he takes a few steps closer to you with an outstretched hand. "truce?"

"friends," you claim with your own grin and shake his hand. without knowing it at the time, this was the start of not just a brand new friendship, but also the start of blossoming feelings between the two of you.

rest of the maknae line under the cut! <3

line break insurance please ignore and enjoy!

– jungwon

how you became enemies: jungwon always managed to overshadow you in Everything, which prompted you to become angry/jealous of him. he, on the other hand, never meant to uptake you in a lot of things. he just knows what he wants and follows his own path and intuition, so he sees you as a friendly rival. not knowing that you hate his guts, jungwon treats you fairly even during the time the two of you went head-to-head for student council president, which he won, making you his vp.

he admires your hard work, but he doesn't know why you treat him somewhat coldly though he just brushes it off (much to your dismay)

how you became lovers: as pres and vp, you have time to get to know each other, but jungwon's kinda oblivious to your disdain for him and he just compliments you often because he admires your hard work! i think jungwon's the type to also remind you to take breaks because he sees how much you do and he doesn't want you overworking 🥺🥺 you notice how much he cares for you despite being president himself and your hate for him transforms into equal admiration!

he confesses to you first because you're a little slow on picking up that he likes you.

"y/n-ssi," the voice calls to you, prompting you to look up from your paperwork. upon lifting your head, you see that the person is indeed the student council president, yang jungwon, your longtime rival.

"yes, jungwon-ssi?" you reply, with a little sting to your tone. if he noticed it, he paid it no heed as always and simply walks forward to your desk, placing a carton of your favorite drink from the vending machine.

"don't overwork yourself, it's getting late," is his blunt answer before walking away. you just stare at the drink sitting on your desk as he's going out the door but peeks back in, appearing very catlike. "and y/n-ssi?"

"huh?" you say rather lost.

jungwon chuckles at your agape face. "you always stay longer than you should. if you end up working until dark, come by my office. i'll walk you home."

with that, he shuts the door softly while simultaneously opening a new door to your heart that was beating way too quickly for your own good.

– niki

how you became enemies: niki's got that class clown vibe down PAT. he plays way too many pranks on you, which sets you off. when you two are in the same room, everyone has to deal with your bickering. well, more like niki's verbal teasing and your nagging responses. needless to say, everyone knows your relationship with the prankster and knows by now to leave the room if the two of you are there together.

in truth, niki has a crush on you, but he didn't know how to express it. pulling pranks is his love language 😔💔

how you became lovers: just like one of the hyung line members, he takes it too far one time and actually makes you cry. he feels so bad that he panics and decides to fess up to you.

he asks his hyungs for advice before leaving a bunch of gifts and a letter for you to read because he's not sure if you want to see his face. either way, he's waiting for you at a park bench so that he can tell you his true feelings in person.

there's a quick rap of knocks on your front door before your mother tells you to go answer the door. getting up from your bed and wiping your tears away, you're still hurt from what riki had done to you at school this afternoon but get up anyway to see who was there.

peeking through the hole, you're confused when you see no one. instead, you open the door to a stuffed version of your favorite animal and your favorite snacks. when you pick up the items, you see that the envelope attached to the animal is real and has your name written on it. closing the door, you quickly open the letter and scan through the handwritten note to find out it's an apology note, from the one and only nishimura riki, the very source of your tears.

it was sincere and moved you enough to get changed and run to the park where he said he would be waiting for you. when you arrive, he indeed was sitting where he said would be, but he stands up slowly, mouth agape from your appearance.

"i..." you take a moment to catch your breath from running while he walks towards you to meet you partway. "accept your apology, riki."

"y-you do?" he blinks a few times as if to make sure it's not just a dream.

you just nod quickly and finally straighten your posture while finally taking in the right amount of oxygen. "yea, now tell me what you wanted to say. why couldn't you say it in your letter?"

"well, i..." he pauses, not thinking he would get this far. you wait as he tightly closes in his eyes to muster up his courage. "i've liked you all this time, y/n. i'm sorry i couldn't express that properly, but i'm willing to start over if you would let me."

hyung line version here!

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypenwriters #enhypen headcanons #enhypen maknae line #enhypen sunoo #enhypen jungwon #enhypen niki #kim sunoo #yang jungwon #nishimura riki #enhypen fluff #enhypen angst #enhypen scenarios #kim sunoo x reader #yang jungwon x reader #nishimura riki x reader

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seiyasabi · 4 years ago

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The Scientist

(Hange (Hanji) can rearrange by guts tbh :P Lol, anyways, this is a Yandere Hanji x Female Reader story! It takes place in current time tho (same universe as Yelena). Also, idgaf how tall the creator says Hanji is. In this fic, even the tall girlies get to be shorter than Hanji.

TW: kidnapping!, !drugging!, unwanted advances, stalking!, etc!

Please proceed with caution! Also, I’m sorry if you can tell that this was in my drafts for a hot min. I started to write this when I first started this blog, and I just finished/revised it lol. )

“Hey, (Nickname!” Hearing the loud shout of a certain brunet, you jump about a foot in the air. As usual, Hanji decides to surprise you whilst you’re in the middle of something.

Pulling away from the microscope you’re currently looking at, you put on a strained smile, “Yes?”

Their one eye sparkles in a hopeful fashion from behind their glasses, one of her their fiddling with their eyepatch, “Sooo,” They draw out the o, seemingly trying to disarm you, “Are you free this weekend? There’s this suuuuper cool bar that’s just opening, and me and the others are thinking about going! It’s totally not a date or anything,” They pause to let out a loud laugh, “I think it’ll be fun! What D'ya say?”

Forcing out a chuckle, you shake your head, “Ah, I’m sorry, Hanji, but I’m busy this weekend. I have a lot of samples I need to process for that upcoming court case,” You chew your bottom lip nervously, “I’m sorry. I hope you and the others have a good time, though!”

A new voice is heard, butting into your conversation, “I can do those! I’ve been needing more hours, anyways,” Whipping your head in the direction of the voice, you silently curse. Fuck Armin for being so helpful!

Hanji beams even brighter than before, clapping their hands together happily, “See! Armin can do that for you!” They lean in closer to you, their lab coat brushing against yours, “Come on, (Nickname), I’d be reaaaaally happy if you go!”

An uneasy feeling pools in your gut, as an anxious sweat begins to bead at your brow, “I-uhm-I suppose I can go for an hour or two.”

“Great!” They grab your hands in theirs, squeezing them in a friendly manner, “The bar is called ‘Titan’s Wrath,’ and we’re meeting at eight on Saturday!” Releasing you, they pat you on the back, “See you later!” They run off, most likely back to the dry lab.

After a moment of silence, you slowly turn towards the short haired blond man, “Armin, I’m going to kill you.”

He blanches at your blunt tone, flushing a bright red, “Wha-what?”

You grit your teeth, tears starting to bead your eyes in frustration, “They’re the person I was telling you about! Hanji constantly harasses me, and you practically just tossed me into their arms! Why would you do that?”

A look of pure terror and remorse appears of his face, “Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I-I didn’t realise that they were the person-oh my God, I’m so stupid. I-I really didn’t know! I’m so, so sorry!” You let out a quivering breath, hands clenched into fists to calm you down.

“It-it’s alright. I never really told you who they were. Just never do that again, okay? If you need more hours, just tell me, and I’ll see what I can do,” The younger man sighs in relief, shoulders deflating.

“I promise to never do that again!” You nod, blinking away your unshed tears, and smile at him.

“Okay, then we don’t have any problems,” You laugh lightly, shaking your head, “Who would’ve thought our newest intern was the dry lab’s wing man?” He panics again, making you cackle good-naturedly, “Now, can you please grab the dilluter? I forgot to grab it from the fridge.”

Hanji, being the ever cheerful person that they are, set their sights on you the moment you were hired.

But, if they came out with their feelings immediately, you’d just assume that they wanted to take advantage of you.

So, they watched you. Writing down your likes and dislikes, your quirks, everything. Through their ‘research,’ they came to realise that you’re very good at your job. The wet-lab should be lucky that they have you… but they never give you the recognition you deserve!

They bombard you with assignments, become upset when you don’t finish them in seconds (which is so unreasonable!), and hardly give you any time off!

You don’t seem to mind, being the good girl you are, but Hanji sure does!

So, they’d seek out the top graduates from the college nearby, and help them become employed at the lab. The newbies really helped get the load off of your shoulders, and once done, they decided to swoop in now that you had a decent amount of free time.

It started at the vending machine- they’d asked you if you wanted to get coffee with them sometime. You said no, probably because you felt it wasn’t professional. After all, rumours would spread like wildfire if you went out with the lead lab tech of the dry lab!

So, everytime they knew you had a weekend off, they’d approach you with new places to try.

Be it a movie, a store, a concert- it didn’t matter. They just desperately wanted to have some time with you!

But, you reacted the complete opposite of how you were supposed to.

You’d pick up as many shifts as possible, most times going into over time, just to avoid the flamboyant lead. Whenever you saw them in the hall or by the break room, you’d turn in the complete opposite direction. If wet-lab needed to correspond with the dry-lab, you’d send your most qualified coworker to do so.

It was saddening, to be honest. They love you so much, yet you refuse to even face them.

But, thanks to that Armin kid, their plans can finally bloom into fruition. For once, you can’t escape the brunet’s advances!

Because of that, Hanji made a note to the owner of the lab that Armin would make a good contribution to the lab after he gets all of his qualifications.

Saturday night comes far too soon.

Dressed in black skinny jeans and a cropped, white long sleeve, you stand in front of ‘Titans Wrath.’ Scoffing at how the bar sounds like a metal band, you make your way inside.

Grabbing the door handle, you yank it open, immediately hearing loud rock music. Mentally patting yourself on the back for your observation, you step inside of the cool building.

Looking inside, you see a large, double sided bar in the middle of the room, a stage and standing area just behind it. There are a few pool tables in the front area where you’re standing, along with double doors leading to a hidden kitchen.

There’s also a lot of people inside. You can’t see Hanji or their friends, but seeing a band setting up on the stage tells you that they’re probably on the other side of the bar.

Walking over to the steps leading down into the stage area, you try to ignore the leers of a few men around you. Maybe you shouldn’t have worn clothes that accentuate your beautiful figure. Peering around the corner, you see the scientist and their friends, an empty seat in between them and a large blond man, that you vaguely recall being the police chief of your city.

Strolling towards them halfheartedly, you give yourself a small peptalk inside of your mind. Sure, Hanji has always been touchy-feely with you, sure, they’ve asked you out about one hundred times, sure, you run into them every time you leave the house, sure-

“(Nickname)! You actually came!” The brunet’s voice is loud, loud enough to cut through the loud music and equally loud chatter. Forcing a smile onto your face, you give a small wave, suddenly uncomfortable with the line of strangers at the bar suddenly looking at you.

“Yes, hello, Hanji,” When you’re close enough, you’re thrown into a tight embrace, their body practically molding into your own. They’re about a head taller than you, making it so your head is practically forced against their protruding collarbones. Hesitating slightly, you give them a soft pat on the back, trying to escape their suffocating embrace.

“I’m so glad you came!” They release you just as suddenly as they grabbed you, putting a hand on the small of your back, and practically forcing you in between the blond man and themself, “(Nickname), this is Erwin. Erwin, this is (First Name).”

His blue eyes rake over your appearance, recognition appearing on his face, “It’s nice to see you again, Ms. (Last Name), especially under better circumstances.”

You nod, thinking back on some high profile cases you met with him for, “Yes, it’s nice to see you again, Mr. Smith.”

A loud scoff is heard from beside Erwin, the head of a short, dark haired man peeks around the broad chested man, “It’s about time you brought a respectful brat,” You have to stop yourself from flinching at his harsh tone, “I am Levi,” Opening your mouth to introduce yourself, he holds up a hand, halting you, “There’s no need for introductions, Shitty-glasses has gushed about the ‘pretty wet-lab scientist’ for months now.”

“Oh, alright. It’s nice to meet you,” His lifts his whiskey on rocks in acknowledgement, before downing it with one swig.

“Likewise,” After that, he turns towards a light brown haired woman, her high pitched voice is heard from where you’re sitting.

“I’m sorry about that. The detective is very… unsociable.”

“It’s alright, Mr. Smith. He kind of reminds me of one of my interns, Annie,” You say with a small smile, before your swiveling bar stool is forced around so you’re facing Hanji.

“Sooo, you like the bar so far?” Their smile is somewhat pleading, and you can’t help but just go along with them.

“Yes, this place is, um, cool. Very interesting choice,” They clasp their hands together with a pleased expression, as they somehow move closer to you than they already are. At this point, you’re worried that they’ll fall off their stool.

“Right? Our residential emo boy found it, and we’ve been hooked ever since,” A loud ‘Shut up, Shitty-glasses,’ is heard from behind you, making the brunet laugh, “Let me order you a drink! I think there’s something that you’ll really like!”

Opening your mouth to reject, it was seemingly too late, because the brunet has already waved over a punk-ed out bartender. You didn’t really hear what the drink is called, but the man sets to work immediately.

It barely takes a minute for it to be finished, and the purple drink is suddenly in front of your motionless form. Looking up, the purple haired man winks at you, before turning his attention back to a speaking Hanji.

“Anything she orders, put it on my tab,” He nods, before walking off to service another customer.

Turning your attention back to Hanji, you try to persuade them to let you pay, “Thanks, Hanji, but it’s alright. I can pay for my own drinks-”

“Don’t worry about it; I asked you out, remember? And it’s the least I can do for harassing you for the past few months,” Startled by their uncharacteristically somber words, you nod in understanding.

“Alright. Thank you,” They nod, before motioning towards your drink.

“Try it! I’m sure you’ll like it!” Grabbing the cool glass cup, you bring it up to your lips, and take a small sip. It’s amazing. It tastes like (favourite flavour), and it goes down smooth.

“You’re right, this is delicious!” They grin brightly, clapping their hands together in glee.

“Great!” They motion towards the stage with their head, “The show’s about to start! Are you ready for a kickass night?” You laugh at their vigour, and nod.

“You bet!”

Maybe tonight won’t be so bad after all.

You spoke too soon.

It seems like you’ve drank too much, because you’re now feeling dizzy. Throughout the set, you’d ordered about five more drinks, and they seemingly hit you all at once.

Hanji, who’s been watching you since your fourth drink, feigns shock at your unstable form. That Rohypnol they grabbed from work works quite well! Now they can see why it’s the choice drug for those awful, awful people.

“Whoa there, (Nickname), it seems you’ve had too much to drink!” Hanji jokes, hands holding you steady on your bar stool. The only person from your group still at the bar is Erwin, but he knows they have it under control. As chief of police, he feels a bit of remorse, but he knows it's for the best. Hanji will take care of you, because, after all, you’re their only true obsession.

“Wha-huh? Was’ happenin?” Hanji can all but coo at how cute you are.

“Don’t worry, cutie. I’ll get you home safe,” Helping you to your boot clad feet, they send a knowing look to Erwin, who smiles in return. Wrapping an arm around your waist, they help you stumble out of the bar, and walk towards their car. Once at the passenger side, the brunet unlocks the door, and assists you inside. You flop onto their leather interior, eyes unfocused, and body movements random. Chuckling to themself, they buckle you in, not before pulling on gloves, and taking your phone, keys, and wallet off of you.

Taking these items, they empty your wallet of its cash, and chuck everything into a nearby bush. Knowing that the cameras outside the building and the buildings surrounding the place are off, they feel at ease. If anything, they feel like your knight in shining armour. If they hadn’t taken you, someone else would’ve-you’re just too cute.

Closing your door, and rounding the car, they slide into the driver’s side, before starting the car. Buckling themself in, they look at your out-of-it form, and smile.

#yandere hange #hange zoe #yandere hange zoe #yandere aot #yandere aot x reader #hange x reader #hange supremacy #yandere attack on titan #attack on titan x reader

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chosonore · 4 years ago

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part two | yearning

yearning [noun. a strong feeling of wishing for something, especially something that you cannot have or get easily]

pairing: kamo noritoshi/f!reader

summary: your relationship with noritoshi was like a game of cat and mouse; no matter how hard you tried to escape from him, he would always find his way back to you.

wordcount: 8.2k

content/warnings: friends to enemies to lovers, language, somewhat suggestive, noritoshi is kind of a dick but i promise it gets better so please don’t lose faith in him, we’re somewhat following the timeline of the anime/manga so spoilers ahead!! but what follows afterwards is purely pulled out of my ass lol, lowercase intended [UNEDITED]

a/n: hello, here i am again with a super long chapter ( ˙꒳˙ ) it is so incredibly messy and i’m so sorry if it gets confusing for you; this just really shows how sporadic my writing process is, i have some guidelines that i follow but sometimes venture off my path when i suddenly get a new idea. nevertheless, i hope you can somewhat enjoy this chapter. feedback or just your thoughts are much appreciated! for those that are waiting for the ~steamy~ content, it is coming next chapter hehe. as always, stay safe everyone (´｡• ᵕ •｡`)

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"noritoshi, could you just stay quiet today? i'm really not in the mood," you sighed as you entered the training grounds. the exhaustion from the mission the day before was clinging onto your bones, heavy and admonishingly. the normally exciting sparring lessons seemed dreadful, knowing that all students were to practice today. to practice the balance within the team, utahime had claimed the week prior as she was reprimanding your lack of discipline when it came to noritoshi. stubbornness ran in the family; you refused to back down when someone was hurting your pride. said stubbornness came back to bite you - instead of taking a break to fully recover, you claimed that you would be fine with the help of your reverse curse techniques.

as the days came and went, the yearly tournament slowly approached. after the devastating defeat last year, everyone was on edge and determined to beat tokyo tech. well, that excluded todo, he was just looking for stronger opponents it seemed. noritoshi, on other hand, appeared to be more agitated than usual - if he wasn't barking orders at the other students, he would criticize their fighting styles. you knew he wanted to win the tournament at all costs, to prove himself worthy of the position as the kamo clan head. but he was too rigid about it, rarely accepting help and haughty when questioned. you've been avoiding him as best as you could and of all days, today had to be one where you could not. opponents would be swapped every ten minutes so everyone could practice with another student - facing noritoshi for ten minutes was easy. so you thought.

"can't promise anything, princess," noritoshi retorted smugly and pat your head like he usually did when he was trying to get a reaction out of you. life always found a way to prove you wrong. for some reason, noritoshi had made it his goal to get under your skin as much as possible on this particular day and it worked. it was childish to engage in this banter but you couldn’t help it. the feeling of not being taken serious by noritoshi had always bothered you. it almost seemed like he wasn’t considering you equal to him, always looking down on you. being stressed wasn’t good, your mother had always reminded you, so it was best to remain calm and collected.

stay calm and collected, calm and collected, you repeated in your head. gritting your teeth, you slapped his hand away and jogged away from him towards todo. at least he'd leave you alone while you were near todo - probably to avoid todo getting mad at him and not wanting to hear about takada-chan again. he was the ultimate and fool-proof shield. the taller male was walking at a leisurely pace in front of you, leading the group as per usual. you caught up to him, slowing down so it didn't look like you just jogged all the way here. away from the menace that was noritoshi. todo glanced at you suspiciously before subtly turning around. a guilty groan left your lips. of course he knew, he always knew. as the unlikely friendship was blossoming between the two of you, you rapidly realized that todo was far more perceptive than he would ever let on. even though he took lighthearted jabs at you, he didn't care enough to intervene; it was a mutual understanding. in a way, you appreciated that he treated you like everyone else, not once had he tried to approach you about your deteriorating relationship with noritoshi.

upon seeing the unlikely pair, miwa speed up as well to join them. even though todo scared her to no end, your presence eased her nerves a little. after all, you weren’t scared to put him back in his place when he was being dramatic. she nudged you gently in greeting, nervously clasping her sword in front of her. "do you think we'll win this year's competition? we've been training a lot, so i hope i can show off some of my skills."

"never say never? even if we lose, it's a good experience to learn from," you replied wryly. while the students of the kyoto tech were strong and coordinated well with each other, noritoshi and you could easily destroy the balance. he didn't know when to stop, persistently pushing your boundaries and you fell for his tricks every time. as long as you could work out a strategy that involved working alone or with a partner that was not him, you'd be fine. your safest bet was to work with miwa since you were both sword users and have practiced together extensively. if noritoshi and you exhibited enough chaos to tear the world apart, miwa and you represented the perfect balance when fighting.

"you're our secret weapon though!" miwa exclaimed excitedly, elbowing you gently. "no one knows you can heal, so we'll use that to our advantage."

"uh…"

"what? don't tell me you-"

"i've asked yuta about advice before," you interrupted her, scratching your head sheepishly. "he's one of the very few people who can use reverse cursed techniques, so i asked him to give me some pointers and how to use it more to my advantage."

when yuta participated in the competition the year before, you were absolutely mesmerized by his level of skills and how he had supposedly mastered them in such a short amount of time. of course you hadn't told anyone that you were talking to him - everyone was still salty about the defeat and would, undoubtedly, have crucified you on sight. truthfully, you didn't understand why everyone was so hellbent about hating the students of your sister school. weren't you all colleagues in a sense? yuta was nice and respectful towards you, always trying his best to explain you how to implement his tips. along the way, you might have developed a tiny, fleeting crush on him but never acted on it. it was only a crush after all and you didn’t feel certain about it not being a mere distraction from your feelings for noritoshi. perhaps it was the way he made you feel, the way he treated you like noritoshi used to before. you couldn't even deny it, you missed your old 'toshi. when you looked at him now, it hurt you, seeing all the traces of gentleness having left him.

"really? you never told me! what is he like? he looked like he was really nice but there were moments where i was really scared of him. well maybe not him but rather… that curse."

"uh, yuta is actually not that scary. he's really helpful and always there for you when you need advice. i think i've improved a lot since we've started talking." you made a mental note to thank yuta again if you got to see each other anytime soon. apparently, gojo had sent him on a mission overseas a few months back and ever since, your exchanged messages grew to be rather sporadic. still, you appreciated that he made an effort to text you every now and then to let you know how he was doing and in turn, also asked about your wellbeing.

"fraternizing with the enemy, i see," noritoshi's voice rang out beside you, dangerously close to your ear. it made you jump in surprise, not having sensed him earlier - your hand automatically shot out to hit him, only for him to catch it in time. you shot him an annoyed glare. beside you, miwa and todo glanced at each other, silently agreeing to ignore the squarreling pair.

"i don't see how that's any of your business."

"it is if it jeopardizes our chance at winning," noritoshi narrowed eyes at you in suspicion. of course he didn't trust you, you were nothing but a mild inconvenience to him. you didn't owe him an explanation, not today and not in the future. any friendship or friendliness between you was long gone. refusing to look into his eyes, you attempted to tug your hand away from him but instead accomplished the exact opposite as noritosh tightened his grip. "what did you tell him?"

"he only helped me with training, that's all! it doesn't concern you anyways so-"

noritoshi was irritated, you could tell. the anger was rolling off him in waves, intimidating even you. why was he so annoyed by the fact that you asked yuta for advice? it wasn't even farfetched - the only other alternatives were gojo and ieiri, both of which you hadn't mustered up the courage to ask yet. wasn't it in everyone's best interest for you to become a great healer? noritoshi would know best - he was the driving force behind your ambition, the sole reason why you worked to the brink of exhaustion just to show him that you didn’t need his help, that you were worthy of a higher rank.

"i don't want you to hang out with the tokyo tech kids, especially not with him."

"wait, what?" you gaped at him in disbelief. "is this just because you have personal beef with some of them? leave me out of this, i just want to improve and you don't get to tell me what to do." with that you shoved the taller male, stomping past the other students towards utahime who was looking at you in disapproval. you missed the upset frown on noritoshi's face as he followed you, wanting to reach out but stopping midway. it wasn't the right time or place to let you know why he didn't want you around them, not yet. seeing you hang out and being relaxed with everyone else but him hurt him, oh how it hurt him. he wanted you close to him, only see him, talk about him excitedly and with stars in your eyes like you did when you talked about yuta. and yet, he couldn't let you know. the only way to keep you orbiting around him was to play these silly games, rile you up and drawing a reaction out of you. it was the only way to make you pay attention to him. and so he did.

calm and collected, my ass, you thought two hours later. of course todo and noritoshi had completely eviscerated the rest of the students with no mercy, leaving everyone in a sour mood. whatever strategy your team would have for the tournament was probably thrown out the window, the two of them would take care of it anyways. not that they would stand a chance against yuta.

“yuta isn’t here?” the disappointment in your voice was palpable. you did look forward to meeting yuta again, thinking that he might have come home from his overseas trip for the tournament. but you supposed getting to know the other students wasn’t too bad, you were interested in the first years and their skills. they certainly looked more approachable than your classmates. miwa told you how todo and mai had met two of them a few weeks prior and promptly started a senseless fight that was then stopped by the second years. it landed them in the water as utahime gave them a lecture - while she didn't tolerate the childish behaviour, everyone else seemed to turn a blind eye to it. noritoshi had scoffed in disapproval upon hearing the news, uttering something about not wanting to associate with dimwits like them.

"nope, he's still overseas. it doesn't matter anyways, we'll still beat you without him," maki replied with a confident grin, arms crossed as she took in the kyoto tech group of students. regardless, you broke out in a sprint and jumped, engulfing her in a warm hug. while you two didn't talk as much as yuta and you did, you were still friends. she was a source of inspiration to you, a master of all kinds of weapons whom you deeply admired. maki gave you some awkward pats before pulling away to introduce you to the first years - megumi, yuji and nobara. the younger students were wary of you, most likely because of their encounter with todo and mai. you couldn't hold it against them, their intensity and stubbornness was something you had to deal with daily after all. you silently cursed the two brash students before taking a deep breath and extending your hand to the ones in front of you.

“hi, i’m y/n, nice to meet you,” you introduced yourself with a friendly smile, visibly relieved when they shook your hand and introduced themselves. especially nobara seemed to be eager to get to know you, fussing over your uniform and inquiring about your skills. you were glad they welcomed you, not wanting to cause any more trouble than would undoubtedly arise for the duration of the tournament. while megumi seemed to be cautious and more reserved around you, yuuji and nobara already treated you like their friend. subconsciously, you envied them for the wholesome friendship dynamic as it reminded you of what you used to have with noritoshi. the fleeting thoughts left as soon as they made an appearance in your head, disappearing when nobara grasped your hand and pulled you towards the buildings to show you around. unbothered by the reactions of your fellow kyoto tech classmates, you followed her - their energy was stifling and the tournament didn't start until later in the day anyways. it was useless to stay with your group and practice, you'd only overexert yourself.

“y/n.” noritoshi called after you sternly, glaring at you when you turned to look at him - ever since stepping foot into the estate, he was moody and more serious than usual. it was probably him being tense about the tournament, the spirit to win deeply ingrained in his bones. none of the other students seemed to be bothered by the presence of the tokyo tech students, so why should he? ignoring him, you continued your journey until you felt a force harshly pulling you back by the fabric of your hoodie. intuitively, you could tell it was noritoshi.

"noritoshi, let me go," you snapped at him irritated, struggling to free yourself from his grasp.

"we have things to discuss, did you forget that?"

"i don't want to," like a petulant child, you gave him an angry look as you stood your ground. tension filled the space between you, tethering on the edge of anger. why was a normal conversation never possible with him? and why did he treat you like a child? you let up when megumi appeared to your side, shooting noritoshi a warning glance as he attempted to remove his hand from yours. even though he didn't know what your relationship was like, he stepped in regardless - you were impressed by him. even if noritoshi remained calm, he was a menace to deal with afterwards.

"she said no, didn't you hear-"

"get your hands off of her." noritoshi growled at megumi, the sudden influx of cursed energy that was surrounding him made all students in close proximity freeze. you couldn't hide you shock either, he had never been this threatening towards someone else. he might push boundaries to the extreme, knowing that he could away with it due to his bloodline and family name but he had never outright threatened anyone that didn't do his bidding. with those words he pulled you towards him, wrapping his arm around your waist protectively. paralyzed, you blankly stared at him. his cursed energy was suffocating you, never had you experienced this amount of pressure. not only that, the unusual closeness set your heart ablaze, burning down the walls that you'd carefully constructed around it.

"you're being ridiculous," megumi challenged the older male, unbothered by the strong pressure. he didn't understand why noritoshi was making a big deal out of this. surely he didn't consider megumi a threat? noritoshi's hold on you strengthened and with panic you realized the blood-red markings appearing on his face, he was being serious, oh god he was going to rip megumi apart-

"hey hey, stop it you two," panda's voice snapped you out of your trance and seemingly noritoshi's as well as he wacked his arm. "you just got here and you're already stirring up trouble, are you not ashamed?"

noritoshi simply scoffed and let you go, his cursed energy dissipating with the movement. the rest of the students were as stunned as you were, no one daring to make another move until the tension evaporated. todo was the only one who looked rather annoyed, smacking the back of noritoshi’s head as he started to tell him off - noritoshi, however, kept walking past him towards the dorms that they were staying at for the week. it was almost like there was steam coming off his head as a result of holding his anger in. nobara gaped at you in surprise, pointing at you accusingly. “i didn’t know that was your boyfriend!”

you spluttered in horror, quickly reaching out to her to try and cover her mouth so she wouldn’t say anything incriminating. “n- no you got it wrong! we’re not together, not at all! i hate noritoshi,” you floundered, hastily trying to set the record straight. nobara didn’t look like she believed you, pushing your hands away while giggling. she wiggled her eyebrows at you, whispering at you about how lucky you were to snag such a handsome guy although she thought that he really didn’t have to overreact like that because megumi was harmless. covering your face in embarrassment, you turned away from her and caught a glimpse of an amused todo winking at you.

“i’m serious, nobara!" whatever whining you did, the two of them didn’t let up, making you wonder what you ever did wrong to deserve this scrutiny. as your last resort you grabbed nobara's hand, dragging her along towards a secluded area in the estate. being the subject of the earlier conflict was already troubling enough, you didn't want the other students to get the wrong idea by her wild speculations. nobara was still giggling when you arrived, pinching your arm playfully.

“c’mon, it’s impossible that there is not something between you! did you see the look on his face? i don’t think he would have cared had it been any other person,” she gushed excitedly, her face lighting up in glee. with no doubt, nobara enjoyed poking her nose in other people's business, seemingly having a knack for sniffing out the hidden. a dejected sigh left your lip. a younger you would have jumped in happiness after finally receiving noritoshi's attention but the present you knew better. there wasn't more to it, you told yourself and yet, a tiny sliver of doubt made its way into your mind. could he really have been so bothered by another male being so close to you? todo didn't count, obviously.

"no, there's nothing to it, i promise. we don't have the best relationship anymore and mostly fight. i mean yeah his reaction was really uncharacteristic but…"

"anymore?"

"noritoshi and me grew up together and were childhood friends. i- i didn't agree with his antics as we grew up and we drifted apart after that and now… hate each other? he’s just unbearable and we don’t get along. everyone at kyoto tech knows that so they’re mostly ignoring our fights. and it’s childish, i know, i know..."

“are you sure? like super duper sure? because it didn’t look like it to me,” nobara contemplatively rubbed her chin. the wheels were turning in her head, something didn’t quite add up. even at first glance, whatever you said made her feel doubtful.

“trust me, i wish it was different too. i mean i used to like him a lot and it makes me sad and i wish we could at least be civil around each other. but he just makes me so angry,” your ramblings stopped nobara’s thinking - so that’s what it was. normally, nobara really didn’t care about other people’s business but this was too juicy to pass up. how far could she push it to make you realize?

why was the layout of all these buildings so confusing? and why were there so many buildings to begin with? you’ve been wandering around for at least five minutes now and you still couldn’t figure out where the hell yuji’s and megumi’s rooms were supposed to be. they didn’t even have any signs around. at this point, it didn’t matter if it took longer than anticipated - the others could wait. nobara had insisted on having a small get together the night before, to get to know each other and play some card games. you couldn’t refuse, it’s been a while since you just hung out with friends without any quarreling. there was no harm in getting to know you future colleagues, even though your classmates were treating them like criminals. so instead of going herself and much to your dismay, nobara had sent you to fetch the other two students, claiming that you would be fine if you just stuck to the measly sketch she’d made for you. most of the rooms you’ve already knocked at remained empty so you couldn’t be far from their rooms, you concluded.

stopping in front of the last remaining door of the corridor, you took a deep breath. this had to be one of their rooms. slowly, you raised your hand to knock at the door when it was suddenly yanked open, startling you in the process and making you drop the piece of paper you were holding. what you weren’t expecting was coming face to face with noritoshi who looked at you as equally confused. he was the last person you wanted to see today, not wanting to confront him about his actions earlier. you couldn’t wrap your head around it; why had he overreacted in such a way? it wasn’t like you were in danger or in need of protection. for a brief moment, you thought that there was a sliver of strange possessiveness. you couldn’t quite place the emotions in his eyes, it made you shudder.

“oh uh, sorry. i was looking for yuji and megumi and this is very obviously not one of their rooms. sorry again. i’ll take my leave,” you awkwardly stammered, taking a step back. noritoshi’s figure was towering over you and in a rare moment, you felt intimidated by him. perhaps it was the dark look in his eyes that told you that he was not thrilled by what you just told him. before you could react, he swiftly grabbed your arm and pulled you inside his room, trapping you against the door.

“w- wait!” you protested weakly, pushing at his chest until his face slowly came into your vision. you couldn’t help but stare at his lips, watching them move as he was talking to you. your ears were ringing, you couldn’t tell what he was saying. the close proximity was suffocating and yet you craved more, not wanting to let him go.

“y/n? did you hear me?”

“huh?” snapping out of your trance, you looked at him dumbfounded. noritoshi was frowning at you, slightly concerned about your state as you didn’t answer him. just then you finally got a proper look at him. it was a rare sight; noritoshi wearing casual clothes, a simple oversized shirt and shorts, and his hair down without the bindings. feeling nostalgic, your heart clenched. he looked like his old self, the ‘toshi that you loved dearly.

“i said, i don’t want you around them. i don’t- i don’t like seeing you with them,” noritoshi repeated with a strained voice. he placed his hands beside your head, inching closer to you.

“what- noritoshi, you don’t get to tell me who i can hang out with! last time i checked, we’re not even friends anymore so where do you get the idea that you can do this? what’s the big deal ab-” you didn’t get to finish your sentence when he pressed his lips against yours clumsily. you seized up in shock, not returning the kiss as a whirlwind of thoughts entered your mind. holy shit, he was really kissing you. but you hated each other, so why? why, why, why. when you didn’t respond, noritoshi pulled away in panic, spluttering apologies as he moved away from you. your emotional world was in chaos, all the buried and forgotten feelings for him breaking the dams and flooding your senses until the yearning became too much. you were reminded of the conversation you had with your mother years ago - you still wanted him, missed him. you wanted him by your side. desperately, you reached out, fisting the fabric of his shirt as you leaned up to kiss him. noritoshi caught you in his arms, wrapping them around you as he fervently returned the kiss. he was holding you like he was afraid you would dissipate into thin air, frantically pulling you in. his hands were roaming, discovering the expanse of your body.

his touches left you feeling delirious, high on pleasure. a mewl left your lips, pleading him for something, for more. your hands moved higher, feeling his chest and broad shoulders before you wrapped your arms around his neck. his name left your lips in breathy sighs as he peppered kisses down your jaw, pulling the collar of your shirt to the side to gain more access to the expanse of your neck. suddenly, you were hoisted up and pressed against the door as noritoshi held you by your thighs. you struggled to wrap your legs around his waist, to distracted by his relentless ministrations. by the time he's left multiple hickeys on your neck, you were whimpering mess. noritoshi's breath was taken away at the sight of you in his arms, lips swollen from the kisses, the glossy eyes, dishevelled hair and the hickeys that were slowly becoming more visible. he couldn't understand how carelessly you were letting him proceed when you supposedly harboured a strong dislike for him. nevertheless, he enjoyed it and wanted to savour the moment, ingrain it into his memory so he'd never forget why he was treating you like a nuisance.

a loud knock resounded from the door, followed by someone shouting: "noritoshi? has y/n been here?"

out of sheer shock, you shoved noritoshi away from you and nearly fell as you attempted to detangle yourself from him. he caught you in time, signalling you to stay quiet as the person outside was still shuffling around nervously. you slumped against him limply, letting your head rest against his chest. his heart was beating erratically. it made yours fill with pride as you could tell that you had the same effect on him as he did on you. still, the precarious situation suddenly dawned on you - you'd just made out with your sworn enemy and, yes you used to have a crush on him, enjoyed it very much. and by the looks of it, he would have continued if you hadn't pushed him away. the entire ordeal greatly confused you; was noritoshi just playing around with you? it couldn't be, he had initiated it after all. the cold treatment he usually gave you didn't match with his actions just now. you couldn't get close to him, not when he gave you mixed signals. you wanted someone who cherished you and was always sincere so you wouldn't have to second guess their actions.

"huh, i guess noritoshi's already sleeping. we'll have to check somewhere else, i hope she didn't get lost," the person outside mumbled as you stayed silent. the sound of shuffling was heard, then steps away from the room. you stayed put until you were sure they were gone and gently removed yourself from noritoshi's grip, not looking him in the eyes. he didn’t move, letting you go willingly.

“i’m sorry, i don’t know what came over me,” you apologized with a pained voice. “please forget that it ever happened and uhm, please don’t tell anyone.”

noritoshi’s eyes widened at your pleas, moving to stop you from leaving so he could explain himself to you. “y/n, wait, i can ex-”

hastily, you stumbled to open the door, dashing away from him until the building was out of your sight. you poorly hid behind a tree, sinking to your knees as you buried your face in your hands. what the hell. you just made out with your childhood friend turned enemy. your buried feelings were all over the place and your mind just couldn’t stay still. it messed with your outlook as well as your image of noritoshi, distorting and twisting it until you had to rethink your relationship. maybe all this time, you subconsciously hoped that he would return back to his old self and somehow give you an explanation. never having received closure on the end of your friendship, you would even forgive him for the sake of your relationship. were you this shallow? no, you simply harboured a lot of feelings for him. you weren’t able to tell what his thought process was - was he even interested in you? did he see you like that?

“there you are,” you lifted your head to see gojo walking towards you with his hands stuffed inside the pockets of his pants. you almost didn’t recognize him as he simply wore a pair of sunglasses and let his hair down. “the others are looking for you. what are you doing out here? trouble in paradise?”

“n-no! i just needed some time away from everyone to- to catch my breath,” you exclaimed indignantly and perhaps too hastily you realized when gojo smirked at you knowingly. why did everyone assume that there was anything between noritoshi and you? was it that obvious?

“uh huh. that’s not what your neck says,” gojo pointed out while wiggling his eyebrows and offered you a hand to stand up. “he really doesn’t like any competition.”

“fuck,” you cursed quietly, covering the hickeys with one hand while taking gojo’s with your other and pulling yourself up. it was embarrassing enough to meet one of the teachers like this but it was even more embarrassing to know that your teacher had seen the aftermath of your makeout session.

“i’m not gonna tell anyone, if that’s what you’re concerned about. although it would certainly be funny to tease little noritoshi,” gojo was giggling and you knew he was greatly amused by the entire situation. it almost reminded you of nobara. you groaned in frustration as you trailed behind him towards the girls’ dorms. you needed to hide your neck so no one would question it or grill you until you confessed; the potential embarrassment was mortifying.

your group strategy was already falling apart when todo suddenly disappeared in the depths of the forest, not caring about your teamwork in the slightest. normally, it would frustrate you a lot more if you weren’t already preoccupied with your own troubles. todo would be fine anyways, the remaining group members could work on a strategy on their own. as mechamaru and mai were discussing, you shot a glance at noritoshi. he looked as deadpan as usual, probably not listening to the discussion as he worked better on his own and it was more or less decided that mechamaru and him would be moving on their own while the others would team up. otherwise, you couldn’t tell whether he was bothered by what had transpired between you the night before. on the contrary, he looked calm and composed, probably more focused on his goal than anything else. and for some reason it bothered you.

when you’d returned to nobara’s room last night, gojo had helped you make up an excuse. while dramatically gesturing around, he’d told them that he intercepted her journey towards the boys’ dorms to recruit you for training, claiming that he wanted to teach you more about reverse cursed techniques. although he saved you from scrutiny and embarrassment, you couldn’t help but feel like he might use it as leverage in the future. it was gojo after all, he was unpredictable. absentmindedly, you agreed to whatever plan the others had schemed and grabbed your sword, getting ready to move to your assigned position with miwa. while you had heard of the other students’ skills, you weren’t sure where to place their levels as there was always room for surprises. underestimating opponents was a beginner's mistake. the bell rang out, signaling the start of the tournament; with swift movements, the group members dispersed and slowly moved towards the "enemy".

in the distance, you could already hear loud explosions - it was probably mechamaru happily blasting away his opponents. you gritted your teeth in annoyance, the blasts were too loud for you to make out anyone approaching you. and as you predicted, someone was taking advantage of the noise to stalk up on you. barely being able to block the blow with your sword, you found yourself opposite of maki who was grinning at you. the challenging glint in her eyes told you that she wasn't going to go easy on you but you welcomed it. it was a good opportunity for you to grow and hone your sword wielding skills.

however, it proved to be more difficult to defeat maki than you'd originally anticipated. in mere minutes, maki had already disarmed miwa, leaving her defenseless and you were hanging on a bare thread. your grip on the sword was weakening, laboured breath making your ears ring. it was frustrating, knowing that after all those months of rigorous practice, you still couldn't win a fight. giving up wasn't an option, at the very least you had to give it your all.

"c'mon, you can do better than this!" maki teased you as you ducked away from the swipe of her spear. it missed you by a hair's width and left you scrambling to create more distance between you so you could heal yourself. maki's relentless hits didn't give you any rooms for it - you really had to learn how to constantly apply it to yourself without losing time. from the corner of your eyes, you could see that miwa had picked up the phone. she was probably calling for help, you thought and dished out another hit towards maki which she skillfully dodged. instead, she delivered another blow to your legs, making your knees buckle from the force. you used your sword to support you and took another breath before you tried to lunge at her. in the distance, miwa suddenly collapsed, making you stop mid-move and took another hit from maki that took all the air in your lungs.

"eyes on your opponent, y/n. you know better than to get distracted in a fight, you could've been killed in a real fight," maki reprimanded you as you coughed heavily, gasping for air as you slowly got back up. you were unsteady on your feet, not having enough energy to even heal yourself. conflicted by whether you should face maki again or help miwa, your eyes were flitting between them. maki took advantage of your uncertainty, dealing another blow to you that knocked the sword out of your hand. as your last resort, you kicked at her feet, trying to get her to fall, only to have her pin you to the ground.

"you're going to have to practice a lot more to beat me in the future," she sighed, picking up your sword. panic welled up in your chest - the sword was the only way you could possibly somewhat win this fight but even subconsciously you knew that it was over. reaching out for the sword in desperation, your vision was clouded with tears. it was frustrating, so so frustrating. why couldn't you be as talented as her? or have fast reflexes like noritoshi? why were you ordinary, not being able to make any progress no matter how hard you try?

"i know but i can't give up now!" you defiantly retorted, pushing at her with all might. "i have to win, i just have to show my skills for once and prove myself, i- i-"

even maki softened up at your heart wrenching sobs, easing up on her grip. you both knew it was over. you were probably already eliminated from the tournament, with no other possibility to redeem yourself. she knew that you tried your best and never once underestimated her but something irked her. it was your motivation, your driving force.

"y/n, there's no shame in losing. that's how you grow, make mistakes and learn from them. you tried your best, it's not easy to stand against me for so long."

"i know but there's- i'm still not where i need to be! look at how much progress the others are making in comparison to me! i've been practicing day and night and still, no one is noticing me. i'm just a measly healer and i-"

"y/n." maki cut you off sternly. "is this your motivation? proving yourself to others? you'll not be able to improve if you keep fighting for others. you need to start working on yourself, for yourself. you don't owe anyone anything. but you have to realize that trying to satisfy other people's needs will only make you unhappy and hinder your growth."

"i'm unhappy with my skills! i keep telling myself that it's okay, that i have a rare cursed technique but sometimes i just wish i had a flashy technique or be as strong as you. i don't want to be looked at as if i need protection, i don't want it! i just-" you hiccuped, sniffling again as you wiped your tears with the sleeves of your uniform. "i just want someone to acknowledge me, want him to accept me as an equal…"

"who?" maki's cold look made you freeze in your movements. you didn't mean to let that slip. no one needed to know that the entire time, you were vying for noritoshi's attention. but she was right; there was no point in giving it your all if it wasn't for yourself. it was a silly, childish dream of yours to be equal with him again. he was far out of reach and you couldn't catch up to him.

"n- noritoshi," you admitted in defeat. maki saw right through you, there was no point in lying. she raised her eyebrows at you but didn't question it further. after all, you hadn't told her about the background story. unless nobara had done so, you wouldn't doubt it.

"i'm not gonna ask you why. but this is my advice, do not fight for somebody else. if you relentlessly work on yourself for your own benefit, you'll see progress a lot faster. your technique might not be flashy but it is powerful, remember that. you're a valuable asset to every team," she concluded and pulled you up, awkwardly patting your back as you still sniffled. maki opened her mouth to tell you some comforting words but froze when another extremely loud boom resounded near the entrance of the estate. your eyes widened at the sudden influx of cursed energy - there was no doubt that a high-level curse had just entered the school grounds. you turned to maki to tell her the news but she'd already moved, pointing to miwa.

"take her to a safe place, you can't stay here! in your state, you wouldn't last against such a strong curse," maki yelled at you as she disappeared in the woods. you scrambled frantically, not wanting to be left behind. while you were useless for the tournament, you could at least still be of assistance against a curse. miwa was still laying on the ground, unmoving. you shook her gently, scared that she was seriously hurt. it seemed like she was just sleeping instead; you were relieved. throwing her across your shoulder, you winced in pain but persisted nonetheless. you had to get her away from here, who knows what curses were roaming around. your senses were flooded with the stench of blood and debris, the pressure of cursed energy, the loud rumbles. you couldn't tell where the others were but you hoped they were safe.

a loud thud startled you and you stopped, ready to draw your sword until realization hit you that it was utahime that was inspecting you. determined, you thrusted miwa's limp body towards utahime.

"miwa will be okay, she's just sleeping! i'm okay too, don't worry, please just take care of her and i'll check on the others!"

"y/n, don't be stupid! you're injured and in no state to help others." utahime attempted to convince you; you shook her off stubbornly, insisting that you were fine.

"what if the others get hurt? i have to help them or at least warn them!" your resolve was firm and unwavering that even utahime couldn't convince you otherwise. slipping out of her grasp, you sprinted towards the source of the cursed energy. from far away you could already see the damage that the curse had caused. multiple buildings were torn apart, trees dislodged and- were those branches rapidly growing out of the ground? you watched in horror as the branches whipped around, following running figures on the rooftop of one of the buildings. upping your speed, you jumped towards the group to aid them. as you neared them, you could make out inumaki, noritoshi, and megumi fighting against the curse, maki trailing close behind.

they barely stood a chance against the curse, every hit that they dealt, the curse would come out unscathed. "what's the deal with that curse?" you asked, panting as you joined them, coming to a halt behind inumaki. megumi was yelling something but you couldn't hear him as noritoshi turned to you and shoved you out of the way.

"y/n, what are you doing here?"

"helping you guys? what the fuck does it look like?" you yelled back exasperated. why was he mad at you in such a situation? they needed any helping hand they could get to defeat the curse. while you weren't useful in fights, you could at least provide continuous healing. noritoshi didn't have any time to reply as the curse lashed out again, dodging it by jumping to the side. you stayed close to inumaki, swiftly healing him when he collapsed from the rebound of his cursed speech. you clenched your jaw, not wanting the others to see that you were slowly running out of energy and strength. next thing you know, a body was hurled through the air, landing near you with a thud. your heart filled with dread when your eyes fell onto the figure, recognizing noritoshi.

"y/n, heal them as best as you can and get out of here! take them to the teachers!" maki yelled out and this time you obeyed, too panicked about noritoshi's state. you were thankful that inumaki had enough energy to run after you'd healed him - hauling noritoshi's tall frame around was already difficult enough but even more so when you were exhausted. as you neared the gates, utahime was already running towards you with a concerned look on her face. you were glad that she was nearby, it meant that gojo and the other teachers were close and could defend you.

"what happened?" utahime worried but you couldn't reply. falling to your knees, you gently laid noritoshi on the ground. the injuries looked bad, there was blood everywhere. you had to stop the wound on his head from bleeding but your trembling hands were preventing you from doing so.

"i- i don't know, i just- i think the curse hit him and now he's unconscious and he's losing so much blood and-"

utahime pinched you firmly, snapping you out of your panic. she was already holding a cloth to noritoshi's temple to stop the bleeding. patting your hand, she told you in a gentle voice: "heal him if you still have enough strength but don't overexert yourself. ieiri will be here soon."

nodding frantically, you placed your trembling hands on his abdomen and let your cursed energy flow. the strength was slowly leaving your body but you had to save him. you had to make sure he was okay, he couldn't die, not like this. regret was bubbling up inside you; what if this was the last time you would ever get to see him?just as you felt his energy responding to yours and saw his hand moving slightly, you couldn't hold yourself upright anymore. the last thing you saw was utahime reaching out to catch you as you collapsed.

you woke up with a startle, gasping for air as you sat up abruptly. sunlight was flooding the room and it felt uncomfortably hot on your skin. you pushed the blanket back but stopped halfway in your movement. your entire body hurt, muscles burning and screaming for more rest. and yet you couldn’t stay still as you remembered the previous events. how long were you out for? was everyone okay? gritting your teeth, you slowly moved out of the room. again, you were faced with the endless maze that was the tokyo tech buildings and stopped in your tracks, not sure which direction to go. you let out a sigh of relief when you spotted yuji in the distance, waving at him to get his attention.

“y/n!” yuji ran towards you, frantically gesturing towards your room. “you’re supposed to be resting! what are you doing here?”

“is everyone okay?” you croaked, now realizing how dry your throat was.

“yeah, ieiri did a good job of healing everyone! some of us are still resting though and so should you.”

“no, i… is noritoshi okay?”

“noritoshi? oh, you mean the guy with the long hair?” yuji nodded, curiously eyeing you as your shoulders dropped, the stress rolling of them. “yeah, he’s still recovering though. ieiri said that his injuries were probably the worst so he’s not allowed to leave the bed.”

“can you take me to him?” you asked with a small voice, doing your best to muster up a puppy face. yuji sighed, scratching his head sheepishly. you could see the conflict in his eyes, that he was thinking about rejecting your request. in the end, he shook his head in defeat and motioned for you to follow him. a small grin found its way onto your lips - yuji was just too nice, he couldn’t say no when people ask him for favours. the walk to noritoshi’s room was silent, neither of you knowing what to say. you knew it was selfish of you not to ask him about his wellbeing more or visit the others but you just had to see for yourself that noritoshi was okay. yuji stopped in front of a door, pointing at it.

“this is his room. he might be sleeping though… my room is down the hall so if you need me to accompany you back to your room, just call me.”

you thanked him quietly and watched as he retreated. taking a deep breath, you knocked at the door and waited for a reply. a few moments passed before noritoshi’s voice rang out, giving you the okay to enter. gingerly, you opened the door and entered the room. noritoshi was sitting on his bed, reading a book as if nothing had happened. you looked at him bewildered. he didn’t look like his injuries fazed him at all. despite the bandages around his head and arms, he remained calm as if nothing hurt.

“noritoshi,” you breathed out, taking a seat on the chair near the bed. he didn’t spare you a look, keeping his eyes on the book. “i uhm. i’m glad you’re okay! when i saw you in that state, i was so so scared that i could lose you… i did my best to heal you, i know i didn’t do much but-”

“i didn’t need your help,” noritoshi snapped at you, placing the book on his lap. “i would’ve been fine without it.”

you were stunned. why was he so agitated? after you initial shock, you huffed in frustration. “what the hell, you could’ve died! i was trying so hard to keep you alive and you react like this? i know you don’t like me but even this is a low blow for you!”

“it wouldn’t have been a problem if you hadn’t inserted yourself into everything! you’re not helping anyone, just dragging us down; everything could’ve gone well if it wasn’t for you standing in the way,” noritoshi countered as frustrated, this time actually looking at you. you stared back at him in disbelief. you saved his life and he had the nerve to shot you down like this.

“does it really hurt your ego to admit that i was actually helpful? we were friends at some point so why do you insist on being such a dick? and here i was, finally thinking that we were getting somewhere- for fuck’s sake, we kissed and-”

“leave.”

you stopped rambling. the tired tone in his voice, the deadpan look on his face; he was serious. you couldn’t believe him. tears welled up in your eyes as you leaped from the chair and hastily exited the room, slamming the door in anger.

you never wanted to see him again.

p.s: yes nobara gave you a wrong sketch of the buildings what about it hehe

taglist: @milkteeboba

#jujutsu kaisen #noritoshi kamo #kamo noritoshi #noritoshi #noritoshi x reader #noritoshi kamo x reader #kamo noritoshi x reader #noritoshi kamo x you #noritoshi x you #kamo noritoshi x you #noritoshi kamo imagines #kamo noritoshi imagines #noritoshi imagines #jujutsu kaisen imagines #fic: sanguine #writing #i am so sorry for the garbage that you just read

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ayuuria · 3 years ago

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Yashahime Translation: Animage October 2021 Issue

Please do not repost this translation without my consent! This includes screenshots of any type and amount. If you wish to share this translation, simply link to this post.

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¡Por favor, no repostees esta traducción sin mi consentimiento! Esto incluye capturas de pantalla de cualquier tipo y cantidad. Si deseas compartir esta traducción, usa simplemente el enlace a este post.

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The Beast King’s Daughter

“Hanyō no Yashahime” depicts the battle of three princesses who carry the blood of a demon king. In ‘The Second Chapter’ which broadcasts in October, the one who holds the key to the story is another princess who makes a new appearance.

With overwhelming strength, Sesshōmaru and Inuyasha’s father, the Dog General, was known as “The Beast King of the Western Lands”. The three (girls) Towa, Setsuna, and Moroha inherited the said beast king’s blood.

Despite being inexperienced, Towa and the others have constantly grown in battle. In episode 24 of ‘The First Chapter’, an evenly matched battle unfolds between Towa and Moroha, enraged by Setsuna’s death, and “The Beast King of the Eastern Lands”, Kirinmaru, who is equal to the Dog General. Though Kirinmaru was injured, he successfully landed a single stroke.

Starting from ‘The Second Chapter’, another daughter of a beast king appears before Towa and the others. Her name is Rion. Surprisingly, it is said that Kirinmaru also had a daughter. Rion is an existence who for 600 years has been sealed in Mt. Musubi, which is said to be where the Dream Butterfly is. Exactly who sealed her and for what purpose? Just like Towa and the others, within her is likely an inherited strength of a beast king but her powers are unknown.

There are still many mysteries surrounding Kirinmaru’s daughter, Rion. While it is not yet known whether she is an enemy or an ally to Towa and the others, if she is willing to lend her strength, she will likely become a reliable existence to them as they shoulder many difficulties.

Character Bios

Rion Kirinmaru’s daughter who has been sealed within the barrier of Mt. Musubi for 600 years. It seems her meeting with Towa, Setsuna, and Moroha will move destiny but… …?

The Dream Butterfly The butterfly of the dream world. A spirit. It is said that when they appear in the real world, they devour people’s dreams and those who have been devoured become unable to sleep or dream entirely.

Higurashi Towa Sesshōmaru and Rin’s daughter. She fights with Kikujyūmonji, a demon sword with a blade created from demonic power. The attack she unleashed when she became enraged from Setsuna’s death took on the shape of two blue dragons.

Setsuna Sesshōmaru and Rin’s daughter. In episode 24 of ‘The First Chapter’, despite wounding Kirinmaru during their battle, the tables turned on her and she lost her life.

Moroha Inuyasha and Kagome’s daughter. When she puts on rouge, she goes on a rampage that ends quickly but when Setsuna lost her life, she managed to fight without losing her composure.

Kirinmaru The Beast King of the Eastern Lands. It appears he spares some leeway with the Yashahimes such as naming Towa’s technique ‘Twin-Headed Azure Dragon Wave’, but?

The Parent Needs to Pull It Together More!

Kirinmaru has considerably complicated child rearing. In contrast to that, Rion is a girl with a straightforward upbringing. I can’t say the specifics yet but when I see parent and child, as a father of a daughter in her 10s myself, I think “The parent has to pull it together more” and I also get a sense of “I guess even if the parent complicates things, kids will grow up on their own.” By the way, Fujita Saki plays the role of Rion. She also took on the role of the mean heroine in my previous work “Fairy Ranmaru~ Anata no Kokoro Otasuke Shimasu~”. Just when I thought I finally defeated her in “F Ran” (Shortened name of said previous work), I meet her again in “Hanyō no Yashahime”… … I felt a mysterious fate (laughs).

- Director Hishida Masakazu

I Felt Destiny from the Lives of Towa and Co. Director Hishida Masakazu

Synchronizing With His Own Life?! Empathy Towards Towa’s Situation

— In the previous issue’s interview, Director Hishida, you said that you felt that “it was fate that I should accept” the offer for this current work which was memorable.

Hishida: I worked at Sunrise’s Studio #1 for a long time, but I started to do work for Tatsunoko Production in 2008. From there, I mostly worked at Tatsunoko but now Sunrise has called me back for the first time in 13 years. Just as I’m wondering what sort of work it’s going to be, they tell me it’s a work that carries on the world of “Inuyasha”, (the work) that taught me the foundation of production. Not to mention, the protagonist, Towa, is a girl who was flung from the feudal world where she was born and raised, to the modern era, and then returns to the feudal (era) again after 10 years. I felt Towa’s situation synchronized with mine and all I could think was that this was fate.

I’m about the same age as the director of ‘The First Chapter’, Teruo-san (Director Satō Teruo), and our careers are just about the same too. Teruo-san worked at Studio 1 for the longest time while I on the other hand, got thrown outside and came back… … I thought that aspect felt similar to Towa and Setsuna’s life (laughs). That’s why watching Towa and Setsuna’s relationship in “The First Chapter” was very tough. Like, they were such close sisters so why doesn’t she remember… …

— To change it to your position Director Hishida, it’s like “You returned to Sunrise for the first time in a while but the people you used to get along with have forgotten about you” kind of a situation.

Hishida: It’s exactly that! The current staff of Sunrise’s Studio 1 don’t know me, and they don’t thank me (laughs). You see, I was the one who revived the steppingstone for the “becoming a producer by being a production assistant” route that came to an end at Studio 1! There weren’t many before me but afterwards, there were a lot of people that took that route and flew the nest like Fujita Yōichi-kun, Watada Shinya-kun, and Kyōgoku Takahiko-kun! No one is really grateful so Fujita-kun and Kyōgoku-kun would always say to me “I should’ve crushed you back then!” (laughs). As I watched Setsuna not remembering Towa, I ended up remembering that.

— You seem to have an unusual attachment to Towa and Setsuna’s relationship (laughs). Well then, what sort of impression do you have of Moroha and Sesshōmaru?

Hishida: Moroha has a brilliance to her. It’s amusing that she inherited Inuyasha’s mischievous side, and she’s got a similar silhouette to Inuyasha as well, so I feel that she is a real eye-catching character. When Towa and Setsuna take center, the story becomes heavy no matter what, so it’s fun to watch Moroha soften the place up.

Then, regarding Sesshōmaru in this current work, I felt “He’s a father”. I bet in his own way, as a father, he wonders how to interact with his daughters. Even while carrying out a strict “trial of courage and cowardice”, he still concerns himself with his daughters which I feel is a little human like. I’m also a father of two girls so I can relate to him somewhat. In the last (scene) of “The First Chapter”, he purposefully hands over a broken Tenseiga to Towa but he wouldn’t do that if he didn’t care about them. He just gives a pass like “Do something about it with this” and I think that is also (a form of) training in a sense.

Also, drawing wise, the pattern of Sesshōmaru’s kimono is still brutal (laughs). “Inuyasha” was an analog cel anime back then so (drawing) that pattern was even more difficult. At the time, the suggestion “Let’s omit the pattern on Sesshōmaru’s kimono” was made but Director Ikeda Masashi opposed it. I didn’t understand why Director Ikeda was so fixated on that pattern back then but thinking about it now, I think it was the right call. Since it could be said that Sesshōmaru’s existence is one of two wheels in the work that is “Inuyasha”, he probably didn’t want to make him plain wherever possible.

The First Attempt At ‘The Second Chapter’ Storyboard Was Like A “Trial of Courage and Cowardice”

— Next, please tell us about Kirinmaru’s side. In ‘The First Chapter’, many of their actions were puzzling so by all means, any hints to their activity in ‘The Second Chapter’!

Hishida: At first, I couldn’t quite understand Kirinmaru, but once I heard he was a father with a daughter, I understood. While he is a person who’s thinking “I want to surpass the Dog General”, his feelings of admiration towards that man and wanting to show his strong side to his daughter are feelings that I completely understand now. Kirinmaru has had many mysterious aspects up until this point, but I’d like to depict his emotions in ‘The Second Chapter’.

Just like her younger brother, Kirinmaru, Zero has also become obsessed with the Dog General. In any case, she lives on her “love”. Zero’s womanly heart is a little complicated, but I also feel that seeing her persist with her earnest feelings for the Dog General is cool.

Also, I think the parts of Riku, who’s neutral towards Towa and the others, that were difficult to see up to this point will become clear in ‘The Second Chapter’. How he feels about Towa will be brought to the forefront, so I told Fukuyama Jun-kun who plays him, “In ‘The Second Chapter’ please go with a slightly handsome boy feeling route” (laughs). By the way, Fukuyama-kun was the one who played the main character in my director debut work “Onmyō Taisenki”. The name of the role (character) was ‘Riku’. ‘The Second Chapter’ is a story about the ‘fate’ that connects people together, and I also felt a mysterious fate from that.

— What did you think of production for episode 25 (episode 1 of ‘The Second Chapter’) which continues from the shocking last scene of Setsuna’s death in ‘The First Chapter’?

Hishida: It was such shocking last scene that I was overcome with the feeling of “Why are you passing the baton to me at such a difficult spot!?”! I truly thought this was a ‘trial of courage and cowardice’ (laughs). I did the storyboard for episode 25 myself, but coming into the work midway, it took me some time to understand the story, so I really struggled. Until now, the record holder for storyboard that took me the longest was episode 13 of “Gundam Reconguista in G” with 2 months. However, this time, it took me 3 months.

— To say that it easily overtook that “G Recon” (shortened form of “Gundam Reconguista in G”) that you struggled so much with (laughs).

Hishida: Yes. My worst record was brilliantly made new! However, on the reverse side, I thought with ‘The First Chapter’ ending like this, there’s no doubt you’d want to see the continuation. In that sense, they passed the baton in the best way so I should meet up to that (expectation). It was tough but I put my all into it!

— ‘The Second Chapter’ is loaded with things to be curious about aside from what will happen to Setsuna like Rin who’s sleeping within the Tree of Ages and Inuyasha and Kagome who’ve been trapped within the black pearl.

Hishida: I can’t talk in detail about that yet but I will say “There’s no way it would end like this!”. I would certainly like for everyone to look forward to October.

In the new key visual for ‘The Second Chapter’ that is overflowing with lively motion, the three princesses show gallant expressions with weapons in hand. What exactly is beyond Towa’s reaching hand… …? Also, when will we get to see ‘Sesshōmaru & Rin’ and ‘Inuyasha & Kagome’ standing side-by-side together as shown in this picture?

#Yashahime #Hanyou no Yashahime #Yashahime: Princess Half-Demon #translation

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eisukevint · 3 years ago

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Always You

Eisuke Ichinomiya

This one’s for you @leoamber66 - i should be ashamed of myself for taking this long but here we are! your graduation and your birthday gift. and a massive thank you to @cupidocherie for major help bec idek where i would be without her😭😭 anyways enjoyyy, i love you <3

»»»»

“Do you remember the first time we met?”

“You mean when you tripped and almost fell in front of everyone on your first day in elementary school?”

“No! oh my god, I told you to forget that!”

“Pftt, how can anyone ever forget that? I’m sure soryu and luke remember too”

“I hope they don’t haha, but really, we’ve come so far” Yuki commented, reminiscing about one certain day.

Eisuke’s POV

“So children, today a new student will be joining us. This is Yuki Freya. I hope all of you will be nice to her and welcome her warmly!” The teacher, Miss Hale as she introduced herself, addressed the class.

“Yuki, you’re going to sit with Eisuke. Please raise your hand so she can know where you are, Eisuke!” Miss Hale announced.

The clumsy girl, Yuki, made her way over to me earning several stares from both girls and boys present in the classroom.

“Hi, i’m Yuki!” She enthusiastically said extending her hand towards me.

I shook her hand, “Eisuke”

“Nice to meet you!” She said and then turned towards the teacher as she started her lesson, not giving me a chance to reply.

At least her smile is cute.

»»»»

Yuki didn’t follow me around like the other girls in my class did. Instead, she became friends with Luke and Soryu who happened to be my best friends. They seemed to like her a lot. Now that was rare.

It was P.E. and the teacher partnered me with Yuki despite the other girls begging him to partner them up with me. I didn’t complain considering she wasn’t annoying like the others.

“Are you ready?” She asked me tying up her left leg with my right one, preparing for the three legged race. Why is this even a thing? Couldn’t we just race like normal people?

“Of course I am” Eisuke Ichinomiya is always ready.

It didn’t take long for me to come off my high horse when Yuki couldn’t keep up with my fast pace and fell down, twisting her ankle.

Yuki groaned in pain and tried to get up but failed. The P.E. teacher came forth and asked me to carry her on my back to the infirmary as a punishment which was just across the field.

“But it’s not my fault that she fell!” I retorted back despite knowing it was partly my fault she fell since I was moving too fast for her.

“She was your partner Ichinomiya, it’s your responsibility.”

“Fine” I said when I realised there was no getting out if it. With that, i asked her to get on my back and carried her to the infirmary.

As the nurse tended to her injury, she turned towards me with that same cute smile “Thank you, Eisuke”

I instantly felt a stab of guilt.

“Hmph, I didn’t do it for you” I didn’t notice the blush that crept on my cheeks but I did notice the way my heart flipped. Just as she was about to say something, Soryu and Luke came looking for her.

“Are you alright?” Luke asked to which she replied with a grin and swinging her leg back and forth.

“Never better!”

Seriously how can someone be so cute.

»»»»

high school

The murderous intent was evident in my eyes as I gazed at Yuki laughing at something the principal’s cockroach son said.

In the beginning, Frank tried to befriend me but I felt something was off and eventually it became very clear to me that he only wanted me to be a handy tool in his pocket ready for emergencies, so I shook him off pretty quickly. Somehow, Frank’s always lingering around me. He’s always loved to single me out whenever I express disinterest in something, in hopes that others would join in. Instead, the girls that fawn over me often tell him to shut up and then they’re confronted by his fangirls and in the end, it’s just a massive cat fight.

He’s nothing but trouble. As the principal’s son, he’s quite popular, almost as popular as me, and he can pretty much get away with anything. Luckily for him, he’s very sly. Hiding behind his minions, he’s never once flat out done anything. Good with underhanded remarks, letting other people take all of the blame, coercing them into doing what he wants. His little groupies pay no heed to any of this, all because he’s handsome. But there’s a large group of people who don’t like him, but nobody has ever said anything straight to his face, thanks to his feared status.

There were rumours earlier this year that on Valentine’s Day, Frank asked Yuki out but she told him that she wanted to focus on school. I’m surprised Frank didn’t get angry at her and punch a wall or something. That sounds like something he would usually do. While I’m proud of Yuki for turning him down, part of me hopes that what she said was just a lie she made up so she could just get away from him. But now, Frank and Yuki are partners on this project, I’m convinced this teacher is trying to set those two up. Soryu, who was partnered with this over-zealous girl looked as if he would smash either his own head or the girl’s if she didn’t stop with her chattering. I’ve been paired up with Luke, unfortunately I’ve been neglecting our work because keeping an eye on Yuki has become too much of a priority. I hate how he gets too close to her, the way he continues to flirt with her and the smug look that’s plastered on his face when he realises that I’m watching. All Luke can do is sigh and shake his head at me.

“I’d gladly switch with Yuki if I didn’t have to put up with him, Eisuke...”

“Hey watch out, you’ll hurt yourself!” Yuki yells, pushing him away before she yelps in pain, drawing her hand back.

For a split second, it’s like I can only see red. I march right up to their desk, in close proximity to the two only to see a red mark across Yuki’s hand. It looks painful. If Frank hadn’t been so careless then Yuki wouldn’t have gotten hurt. What were you thinking!? Why do you need to care so much about everyone else!?

“Oops, I’ll take you to the infirmary.”

“No, I’ll take her.”, I sternly tell Frank. Yuki insists it’s not too big of a deal and that she’s fine.

“Hmph, alright. I’ll make it up to you another way then, Yuki.”

“You don’t need to. Stay away from my girl.” I felt Yuki tense up beside me the moment those words left my mouth. Thinking nothing of it, I took her dainty uninjured hand in my right one and pulled her along with me towards the infirmary. Yuki, being the obedient and polite girl she was followed without a hint of refusal.

Upon our arrival to the medical department of the school, the nurse immediately treated Yuki’s injury. As I gazed at the familiar scene before my eyes, a certain memory played in my head.

“What’s with you and infirmaries?” Were the words that came out of my mouth the very second the school nurse disappeared, probably went back to her office.

She whipped her head towards me, a tiny smile adorning her graceful features. Adorable giggles escaped from her mouth indicating that Yuki too was reminiscing about that particular day.

“You’re too amiable for your own good.” I chuckled, moving to sit into the chair where the nurse was not long ago and grabbing her hand with the nasty burn on it.

“How dare he ruin your precious soft skin like this” Placing a gentle kiss on the back of her hand, I held onto it as I stared deep into her gorgeous blue eyes.

“Is it true you rejected him?” She stared back, cocking her head a little bit to her left at the question, confusion etched on her face.

“On Valentine’s Day, I heard he confessed to you but you turned him down, saying you wanted to focus on your studies. Is that true?” Her face lit up upon remembrance but an almost gloomy expression took over right after.

“Ah...yes, now that you mention it” I squeezed her hand a little tighter but not tight to enough to hurt her as I waited for her to continue.

“That’s only half true though..”

What?

“I also told him I like someone else.”

Oh.

I immediately loosened my grip on her hand.

So that’s why. Heh, what were you even thinking Ichinomiya?

Yuki glanced over to me, fidgeting in her seat with nervousness.

“Won’t you ask who it is?” This time, she grabbed my hand and lightly tug on it preventing me from standing up, causing her to hiss in pain.

“Does it even matter?” I sighed, patting her hand lightly with that flicker of hope in my heart slowly diminishing. As I was about to get on my feet a second time, she said those words which haltered my every movement, completely catching me off guard. Words i’ve wanted to hear for the longest time now from a certain girl I adored more than anything.

“It’s you, Eisuke.”

Good Lord.

“It’s always been you.”

Will I survive if my heart continues to beat this fast every time i’m around her? I’ll have to ask Luke later.

“Eisuke?” Yuki peered at my astounded face snapping me out of my daze. When I look back at her, I thought I could resist just pulling her into my arms and claiming her as mine but boy, was I wrong. I immediately grabbed her chin and captured her silky lips in a somewhat soft and gentle kiss. Laying every emotion bare into our first kiss, Yuki loosely wrapped her arms around my shoulders as she kissed me back with equal passion. We parted and just sat there basking in the pleasure of being in each other’s arms until I decided to break the comfortable silence since a significant amount of time had passed and we needed to go back to the lab.

“You’re mine and I won’t allow you to leave me.” She hummed in response and with a little peck on her lips, I pulled her up with me and exited the infirmary.

Our fingers intertwined perfectly as we walked back to the class feeling oddly at peace - mind, body and soul.

»»»»

“And Soryu teased us so much when we went back to class! But no one was surprised, I mean we were kind of inseparable...” Yuki said bashfully, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. The diamond of her engagement ring caught the light of the setting sun.

“It’s because they knew you were mine.” Professing my undying love for her, I place a fierce kiss on her lips imagining a bright future with my one and only,

“Always have been and always will be.”

•••

#eisuke ichinomiya #kbtbb eisuke #leo amber #eisuke x oc #eisuke x mc #soryu oh #luke foster #mamoru kishi #mitsunari baba #ota kisaki #kissed by the baddest bidder #kbtbb #voltage inc #love 365 #otome romance #otome #fic #gift

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teawaffles · 4 years ago

Text

Forbidden Games: Chapter 3

From the end of the 18th century, gentlemen’s clubs had begun to proliferate rapidly in Britain. These were members-only social circles established by men of the gentry class [1] who shared common goals such as hobbies or research. At its peak, the area of London’s East End known as Clubland [2] was home to around 400 such establishments.

Normally, clubs have neither a doorplate nor signage. There was a rumour that one time, when a policeman became suspicious and entered a club, he found an archbishop, the president of a bank, and the prime minister all gathered there. The building that William and Sherlock had arrived at was no different, with a lone man standing at the entrance, and not a single item displayed that indicated what lay within.

Upon descending from the carriage, Sherlock gazed intently at the building, and spoke to William beside him.

“It’s a pretty big building, but this looks like the right address.”

“Indeed, the proof is in the fact that people are going in and out.”

Right at the corner of William’s sight was the figure of a gentleman who looked like he wanted to enter. He gave a slight bow to the doorman, then opened the door and went in.

Sherlock observed the sequence of events.

“They don’t seem too concerned about their surroundings when they enter.”

“True. Perhaps the club itself is not illegal in nature.”

“In other words, there may be people doing something illegal in there.”

The two men exchanged deductions as they drew nearer to the club. As expected, the apparent receptionist spoke up.

“Excuse me. Do you have business here…… Ah? You would be Durham University’s……”

As a nobleman and a young professor of mathematics, it looked like William was fairly well known around these parts.

William shrugged off his coat, doffed his top hat, and greeted the surprised man with a gentle smile.

“Good afternoon, I am William James Moriarty. I heard that this is a club where one may play certain games.”

At that, the man visibly relaxed and responded in a polite manner.

“Indeed it is you, Mr Moriarty, welcome. As you mentioned, this is a place where gentlemen with time to spare may gather, even when it is the middle of the day.”

William smiled at the man’s self-deprecating manner, and made a respectful enquiry.

“My companion and I have heard rumours about this place. However, could it be possible that we would be denied entry without an introduction from an existing member?”

“Not at all, there is no such rule. There is a token receptionist like myself for some reason, but in essence all newcomers are gladly welcome.”

“Including me?” Sherlock cut in, and the man nodded.

“That’s right, we have no qualms about that. I hope you don’t mind me asking your name?”

“I’m Sherlock Holmes.”

Upon hearing that name, the man blinked.

“Could it be, that Sherlock Holmes? I’m astonished that a man like you would also come to such a place……”

Perhaps the mathematics professor and famous detective made for an unusual duo. More surprised than one would expect, a wry smile rose to his face as Sherlock continued.

“Right. I just have a little something to investigate here.”

“An investigation, I see……”

In contrast to his manner with William, the man seemed shaken by the appearance of a detective. William calmly pounced on his suspicious behaviour.

“Could something be the matter?”

“Um, that’s, uh”

The man glanced toward the door as he tried to evade the question. But eventually he seemed to give up, and revealed the situation to them in a hushed voice.

“In a manner of speaking, this is indeed a place where one can enjoy a variety of ‘games’, however…… to liven up the playing field, money does change hands as well.”

“I see.”

From the man’s faltering voice, William could tell what was on his mind. Gentlemen who shed appearances and amused themselves with gambling, contrary to social expectations of dignity — this was not something one would wish to make public.

On top of that, a place where gambling has become the norm could easily become a hotbed of crime. It was likely that the doorman was stationed here to ascertain if new participants were connected with the police or other related parties, hence avoiding any unwanted attention. With Sherlock being a detective, this would also be the reason why he was shaken by Sherlock’s visit.

However, the two of them had ascertained that exchanges of money were taking place here. The question now was to what degree.

“Could it be, that the bets placed here are large enough to draw the attention of the Yard?”

The man waved the question away. “Nothing of the sort. They are really just small sums. One could see them as an entertainment fee.”

“An entertainment fee, I see……”

Sherlock murmured strangely, and watched the man’s movements with nonchalance. By layperson standards, even if it was just for fun, there was likely to be a good amount of money involved where nobles were concerned. But the man’s demeanour didn’t suggest that he was involved in anything illegal.

“Well, you won’t need to worry about that. I’m pursuing a different case here, and besides, I can agree that it’s more fun when money is involved.”

“That’s certainly reassuring to hear……”

For William, who had a close associate who was fond of gambling [3], this was a statement he couldn’t help but smile wryly at.

However, at present, his prediction that there was nothing wrong with the club itself was correct. Hence, they would need to see it in person.

“In any case, it should be fine for us to enter, yes?”

“Y-Yes, please be generous with your wagers……”

“So it’s okay then. Well, let’s get going.”

Sherlock immediately opened the door, with William following behind him.

The interior of the building was a large hall, with simple and subdued decor, and good-quality furnishings lined along the walls.

Wooden tables and chairs were spaced equally, and seated there were groups of gentlemen in formal attire, playing various card or poker games. Gold coins and stacks of bills could be seen scattered across the tables. Although the gentlemen maintained the dignity of their upper station, the occasional groans and cheers revealed their enthusiasm for the games.

The two men stood near the entrance, gazing at the players’ figures.

Looking at William, who was earnestly observing the situation to search for the missing young man, Sherlock made a somewhat envious expression.

“It sure looks fun. Since we came all the way here, I might join a game myself.”

“……Please don’t forget your original goal here,” William reminded him, looking troubled.

Just then, a stout man approached them, holding a glass filled with wine.

“Who might we have here? And on the young side too…… Ah, might you be the mathematics professor William Moriarty…… and your companion, the famous detective Sherlock Holmes?”

The man raised his voice, and a number of people in the vicinity turned to look at the duo. William kept a smile on his face, albeit a little awkwardly.

“Greetings….”

“Nice to meet you.”

Seeing how they had attracted attention so quickly, William spoke to Sherlock in a low voice.

“I would’ve honestly preferred to investigate more discreetly, but it sure is difficult when you’re known by name alone,” he scowled.

“Well, it’s the price of fame.”

After that somewhat sour exchange, William enquired after the man who spoke to them.

“It does seem that people who truly enjoy games are gathered here.”

“Indeed. These games have been brought by the players themselves. In fact, I’ve heard that games involving guns have become popular recently.”

“Guns?”

As the pair frowned at the unexpected word, the man continued, as if to explain himself.

“Please do not misunderstand. Of course, the games do not involve actual guns, but mere toys made to resemble the exact items themselves. One simply loads a bullet, decides the order in which he goes, and then—“

The man made the figure of a gun with his hand, and held it against his temple.

“One would pull the trigger on his own. The person who gets hit by the bullet loses. I believe this is a game that originated from Russia.”

“—Russian roulette, eh.” Sherlock murmured solemnly.

Even though the game was but an imitation, it was difficult to understand why these nobles would use such dangerous items.

However, the man proceeded to ignore the duo’s incredulous expressions, and pressed on with the topic.

“Although this game only became popular here a while ago, the company here got tired of it quite quickly. That’s why I’ve been trying to change various aspects of it on a trial-and-error basis. In fact just recently, based on a rumour I heard going around another social circle, I tried having three people use three different guns—“

“Ah…… It’s been kind of you to tell us all about this, but I’m afraid we’ll have to continue this some other time.”

Sherlock, somewhat disgusted, interrupted the man’s passionate speech and looked around the room.

“I’ve come here to look for someone.”

“I see.” The man seemed to change his mind and reacted distractedly.

“Yeah, it’s about a noble’s son……”

Then, Sherlock told him the missing young man’s name.

At that instant, William noticed that a gentleman in the vicinity had reacted vaguely to the name.

However, this wasn’t the first time it had happened. In truth, when Sherlock had entered the hall, a number of gentlemen had cast wary glances at him.

William memorised their faces as he spoke about the missing noble, casting a glance at Sherlock. The other man swiftly cast a glance back to him. Back then, Sherlock had knowingly used his fame as a detective to smoke out any suspicious characters as he entered the room.

Now all that was left was to determine the move their opponent would make.

The pair silently agreed on their next course of action. But before they had the chance to explore the movements of the people identified, a gentleman approached Sherlock.

“Could you be Mr Holmes?” he enquired.

He looked to be past forty, with a lithe figure that suited a swallow-tail coat, and a personable smile on his face. However, a cunning glint lurked in his narrow eyes.

Sherlock nodded and gave an affirmative grunt. Then the man put a hand to his chest and let out an exaggerated sigh.

“……Ohh, I simply can’t believe I’d be able to meet you in the flesh like this! Or rather, I think I’ve used up all the luck I had for today’s game.”

Saying that, he immediately straightened his posture.

“Apologies for my poor manners, I have yet to introduce myself. My name is Alan. I absolutely love exciting things that can even astonish people from the sidelines, and I’m a devoted reader of your thrilling adventures with Dr Watson.”

“Heh, I’m grateful you’re reading Doyle’s work [4]. I’m sure he would be pleased to hear that.”

“I’m deeply moved to be able to speak to you as a fan. By the way, I don’t mean to be rude, but it does appear to me that you are a little different from what’s been written in his works.”

He’d hit on a sore spot. Sherlock awkwardly scratched his cheek with his index finger.

“Ah—…… That would be due to the author’s focus on entertaining his readers. It seems he has somewhat glorified me. I suppose any differences between my image and myself are only for the worse, eh.”

“Not at all. In fact, from now on, when I read his works I’d love to imagine the real Sherlock Holmes instead.”

“Would you really enjoy that?”

As Sherlock chatted with the man who introduced himself as Alan, William made idle chatter with the man who spoke to them at first. He was carried away talking all about the Russian roulette from back then, and William nodded at the appropriate times as he observed the other gentlemen, who were gazing intently at Sherlock.

The cordiality of the conversation prevented Sherlock from bringing up the matter of the missing noble in a natural way. As such, his next move was fairly predictable.

“Well, I never thought I’d be able to have this much fun speaking with the detective I so admire.”

“If you’re that happy, then I’m happy for you too.”

“Fate’s a strange thing indeed…… By the way, Mr Holmes, would you happen to be interested in games?”

“Hmm? I did say earlier that I’m here on a different case…… but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t interested. Since we might as well, why don’t you introduce me to an exciting one?”

“I see, I see. You would desire something exciting.”

Immediately, something in Alan’s smile had changed. He covered his mouth with a hand as he whispered to Sherlock.

“It is true that many of the games here provide a change of pace, but my friends and I have grown completely bored with them. Hence we are in fact playing a secret, thrilling game at another location.”

“Hmm. A thrilling game, eh.”

Sherlock put on a conspicuous smile. Alan, reading it as an expression of interest, gestured to William.

“How would your companion like to join us? As long as we do so in secret, so the company here remains unaware.”

“……Sounds like fun,” Sherlock replied.

He called out to William. “Oi, Liam. Have a moment?”

“What’s the matter?”

William turned to Sherlock, having missed their conversation as he was chatting with someone else — or so it appeared.

“Alan here wants to go somewhere else to talk. Care to join us?”

Alan smiled. It was a friendly expression, as if he were the master of a house greeting guests as they entered, but William saw the true nature behind it.

——It was the look of a hunter who had just caught his prey in a net.

William readily understood the situation.

“I see. Allow me to accompany you both, then.”

He apologised to the man he was conversing with, and left the hall with Sherlock.

Footnotes:

[1] The class of people right below the nobility, considered to be of good social position (Wikipedia)

[2] Located in the St. James’s area of Westminster, London (Wikipedia)

[3] i.e. Moran

[4] In case anyone is confused about this, Watson has been writing about Sherlock’s exploits under the pseudonym of Arthur Conan Doyle.

#moriarty the patriot #yuukoku no moriarty #yuumori #english translation #forbidden games

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starculler · 3 years ago

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Lead Me Down Another Road (preview)

Word Count: 2975

I fell into a minor rabbit hole and stand before you now with a scrap from the Crèchemaster Anakin AU I'm working on. The full fic is a few thousand words longer than this (and will go up on ao3 within the week), but this is technically the original bit I'd planned on writing (and is thus self-contained enough that I'm comfortable posting it alone here. As a treat). Hope y'all enjoy it and the glimpse of at least one of several Jedi OCs I've been having to come up with for this lol Note: I'm using crèche-minder in place of crèchemaster because it fits a little better with how I've set up the role in the au -- the particulars of which will be explored in the full fic.

Anakin stood from where he’d sat among the younglings in Targon Clan when he caught sight of his master standing just inside the room, all ten pairs of eyes straying from their painting to watch him stretch. He grimaced briefly at the splotches of bright paint he could already see on his tunic and pants, but made it a point to smile at a scowling nautolan making a grab at his ankle. He shuffled back, just out of reach, and had to dodge another two pairs of eager, sticky fingers with a put-upon sigh that failed to fully mask his amusement. It was the same song and dance every time he was sent to Knight D’nali for crèche-duty, and he’d long gotten wise to the initiates’ tricks.

What made today’s game of Catch-the-Padawan novel was Obi-Wan’s presence hovering at the edges of Anakin’s focus. His master hadn’t come to collect him like this since his first few weeks, confident that Anakin would neither get lost on his way to and from the crèche, nor try to dodge his punishment after that awful first and final attempt. He shuddered at the memory even as he leaped nimbly over a pair of near-humans who’d thought to tackle him from behind. He laughed when they turned, eyes wide and betrayed for a moment before trying for a frontal attack.

He dodged, weaving between ten tiny, determined younglings — baiting them with the promise of his capture before stepping just out of reach once more — until he hit something solid from behind. He blinked, stunned for a second and sure that he’d had enough space still to maneuver around, only to yelp when an arm snaked around his waist and pulled him off his feet with an ease that spoke of more than a little help from the Force.

“Master!” He groaned, his protest drowned out by mixed cheering and jeering from Targon Clan and their minder’s own loud laughter. Anakin shot Knight D’nali as much of a betrayed look as he could while caught, but the traitor only laughed harder. He huffed.

“Well,” Obi-Wan said, grinning and smug and just as much of a traitor as the kiffar knight, “it seems I’ve won a prize to take back with me. A whole padawan all for myself.” A chorus of “No’s” and groaning followed the statement, and Anakin, face warmer than it had been a minute ago, suddenly found the floor much more interesting than a gaggle of disappointed initiates. Obi-Wan, still being a traitor, only laughed.

“Alright, alright. Settle down now,” Knight D’nali interrupted, wading into the chaos so she stood between them and the younglings. “Knight Kenobi and Padawan Skywalker have other duties to attend to, and you little Jedi have a latemeal to prepare for.”

With only a mild amount of protest, the little ones acquiesced. In true, and still vaguely eerie to Anakin, Jedi fashion, they bowed in sync, calling out a discordant mix of goodbyes and thank yous. Anakin nodded in return, starting to wriggle in his master’s grip in a futile attempt to free himself. Obi-Wan held fast even after two of the younglings, a zabrak and the same nautolan who’d first tried to grab onto him, crept around Knight D’nali to hand him four sheets of flimsi splattered with a variety of bright, clashing paint.

He sighed, resigned to the embarrassment of being gifted their paintings under the too-amused gazes of both knights, and murmured a quiet “Thanks” that made the pair smile so wide he thought their faces might split. Their obvious happiness made something warm bubble up in his chest and his hand tingle where flimsi met skin. It was hardly the first time one of the younglings in any of the clans he frequented had given him something small like this to take back with him — he had a wall in his room dedicated to doodles and paintings and a corner set aside, free of his usual clutter, for knickknacks and crafts — but the shock and awe and tingling warmth it left in him never wore off.

Anakin’s gifts had never lied with children. His temper ran too hot and he never quite knew what to say to anyone his age, much less younger than him. It had, in fact, taken months of constant supervision, patience, and teaching from the crèche-minders who’d agreed to take on his crèche-duty punishments for him to build up any sort of rapport with the little ones under their care. It had been hard and frustrating, but ultimately rewarding, work even if it had been borne out of his master’s own frustrated desperation.

The arm around his waist squeezed briefly, and Anakin had to fight down yet another burning flush when he realized Obi-Wan had most likely noticed where his thoughts had wandered. He floundered for something to say or do, but settled for a heavy sigh that drew a brief chuckle from his master.

“I apologize again for stealing Anakin back so early, Knight D’nali,” Obi-Wan said and Anakin could picture the apologetic smile on his face as he spoke.

“No need,” said Knight D’nali, smiling just enough that the wrinkles in her eyes and the upward pull of her cheeks distorted the two, bright red tattoos — one line the width of her thumb and the other no more than half a centimeter — cutting vertically down from hairline to jaw over her right eye. “I may be getting older, but I remember well enough how busy a padawan’s life can be.”

“You’re not that old,” Anakin groused and earned himself a huff from his master and a bark of laughter from Knight D’nali.

“That’s sweet of you padawan, but the gray in my hair tells another story. And not another word about it,” she said the second Anakin opened his mouth. “There’ll be no buttering up this old knight. I told you, if you’re back here in less than a week I will sit this clan down for a four-hour meditation at least. Force knows your master certainly won’t object.”

“Yes Knight D’nali,” he said in the dull tone every chastised padawan seemed to affect, much to Targon Clan’s delight if their stifled giggling was any indication. Knight D’nali simply nodded, satisfied. Obi-Wan, again, laughed.

“And on that note, we’ll be taking our leave now. Knight D’nali.” Obi-Wan bowed as well as he could with an armful of padawan still pinned against him. “Targon Clan.” He offered the still-giggling younglings a much shallower bow. “May the Force be with you,” he said, echoed only a moment after by Anakin, before turning on his heel and striding out into the hall.

Anakin wriggled again and said: “Master, you can put me down now.” Obi-Wan hummed but didn’t so much as slow down until Anakin huffed, rolled his eyes, and added an only somewhat petulant “Please.”

It took him a moment to find his balance when Obi-Wan suddenly let go, but soon enough he was keeping pace with his master, just shy of being at the knight’s side. They walked in silence, past the doors to other clans of exuberant younglings and down the almost confusing pattern of turns that made up the Temple’s Crèche. It was, he knew, meant to be confusing so that intruders would have a harder time reaching the Jedi’s most vulnerable members on the off chance they made it through the Temple, guards, and every Jedi in between. He also knew that Obi-Wan was purposefully leading him through the longest route rather than the faster shortcuts one of the other crèche-minders, a young pantoran knight he’d only met with a few times so far, had taught him.

They nodded at the pair of guards stationed at the Crèche’s primary entrance once they’d finally made it through, and again to any Jedi they passed along the main corridor. Anakin glanced curiously at his master when he led them not towards the dormitory or refectory, but instead toward the salles and meditation rooms. He pursed his lips, unsure if it was a good or bad sign.

The salles meant lightsaber practice — Anakin’s favorite — but he doubted they’d stop there. He had, after all, been in the crèche because he’d let his temper get the best of him again, and Obi-Wan had made a point of steering Anakin away from as many potentially aggressive outlets as he could until he was sure Anakin was cool-headed. That didn’t stop him, however, from reaching for the lightsaber on his belt, shiny and still new considering he’d only just built it less than half a year ago. The trip to Ilum had been terrifying and exciting in equal measure, just the two of them instead of waiting for the next crèche clan’s planned gathering. It still awed him sometimes, to brush the warm, steel cylinder and find it there or to sit and listen to his crystal’s song virtually anytime he wanted.

It was a scrap of undeniable proof that he was a Jedi. That, late-comer or not, he belonged here just as much as any other padawan or knight.

Obi-Wan slowed, looking back at Anakin with the kind of unbearably soft, caring smile that told him his master had probably felt where his thoughts had gone. He held an arm out and Anakin hesitated a moment at the familiar invitation, torn between embarrassed frustration and elation at being invited close in a fairly public space, before stepping up so he was beside rather than behind Obi-Wan. He stiffened when Obi-Wan put an arm around his shoulder, but relaxed before his master could even think about pulling away. Anakin pressed into his side, deciding that, right now, eleven-nearly-twelve wasn’t too old for the show of affection, and just about melted when Obi-Wan’s arm shifted to briefly squeeze his shoulder.

His vain hope for the salles was, of course, dashed as they walked passed to duck into one of the smaller, unoccupied meditation rooms. Despite not wanting to complain, Anakin couldn’t completely stifle a sigh as he took in the room: bland, small, and box-shaped, with a few colorful cushions laid out and more stacked against the walls with a few other types of seating for those who might need it. Obi-Wan flashed him a quick smile, squeezing his shoulder once more before letting go and settling on an older-looking, dark blue cushion. Anakin breathed in, held it for a count of four, and breathed out in an effort to brace himself for the ensuing lecture or meditation he was sure to suffer. He picked up a red cushion from the far wall, calling it to his hands with the Force, and sat himself down in front of his master, close enough that their knees almost touched. Then, he waited.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan started after they’d sat in silence for a few tranquil-bordering-on-nerve-wracking minutes, their slow, even breathing the only sound in the room. Anakin met his master’s gaze, shifting slightly as a small kernel of icy unease sprang to life in the pit of his stomach. “You’re not in trouble, Padawan.” Obi-Wan smiled, still soft. Still caring. Anakin frowned.

“You don’t usually bring me here unless I am.”

“I suppose I do, don’t I?” He seemed to speak mostly to himself, brow furrowed and a wry twist to his lips, like he’d found something funny. Anakin cocked his head to one side, watching as Obi-Wan breathed deeply a few times like he was trying to center himself. Or, a traitorous part of his mind whispered, bracing himself. Anakin squirmed in place, hardly daring to breathe himself as the unease in his stomach grew a fraction larger. “I’ve been talking to a few of the crèche-minders you’ve been working with.” Anakin swallowed, thoughts flitting towards the many mistakes he’d made the last few months and especially at first. “They’ve given you rather glowing reviews if I do say so myself,” he said, a small but pleased curl in his lips. And Anakin—

Anakin blinked.

“Really?” he asked, and wished the question hadn’t come out quite so bewildered. His master grinned and Anakin swore there was pride gleaming somewhere in his eyes.

“Really. They’ve enjoyed having you there. Knight D’nali says you have an uncanny ability for distraction,” Obi-Wan teased. Anakin stuck his tongue out and earned himself a bark of laughter. “Master Benni,” he continued, sobering once more, “made an interesting suggestion when I spoke to him last week. I—” Obi-Wan stopped. Inhaled.

“Master?”

A fine tremor had started in Anakin’s hands at some point. Excitement at first, quickly drowned out by a fresh wave of nerves. He’d once thought, at first, that Tatooine would drown in rain the day Obi-Wan Kenobi didn’t have a sharp retort on the tip of his tongue. A nearly three-year partnership with the knight had broken the facade a bit by now, but the sight of Obi-Wan struggling to put his thoughts together unnerved Anakin even after his master smiled reassuringly, reaching forward to clasp one of Anakin’s hands between both of his.

“There are many paths to becoming a Jedi, as I’m sure you’ve learned by now. Guardians, Council members, diplomats, teachers … crèche-minders,” he said, emphasizing the last. Anakin’s breath caught, eyes wide as the implication sunk slowly in.

“Did— Did Master Benni,” Anakin started, strangled and halting. Obi-Wan nodded. “But—But I’m horrible with younglings! I’ve made so many mistakes. I—”

“You are learning, Anakin. No one expects you to be perfect at anything. Much less in dealing with younglings.” Anakin opened his mouth. Closed it. Floundered in his incomprehension until—

“Are you … Are you getting rid of me?” he asked, voice suddenly small and hurt. He turned his hand in Obi-Wan’s grip, wrapping his smaller fingers around his master’s wrist as if he would disappear from Anakin’s sight at any moment.

“No,” Obi-Wan said firmly, one of his thumbs stroking the back of Anakin’s hand. “You are my padawan, Anakin, and I will never abandon you.” Obi-Wan paused there, earnest and scorching in his focus until Anakin nodded, more numb than anything else at the moment. Satisfied, his master continued: “But I do think that this is a good opportunity for you.” Obi-Wan’s eyes flicked down to their hands and then back up, meeting Anakin’s once more, steady and confident and calm. “You’ve changed a little since you’ve been around the crèches. I can see a confidence in you that wasn’t there before, and better control. Not just with the Force, though I’ve no doubt entertaining younglings for hours has done wonders.” Anakin flushed, fuzzy warmth buzzing in his chest at the praise.

“You feel things — everything — so strongly, Anakin, and I fear I’ve not been able to help you much in that regard.”

Anakin opened his mouth to protest, but snapped it shut when Obi-Wan held a hand up for silence and settled for a quiet pout instead, much to his master’s amusement.

“I appreciate your faith in me,” he said with a nod, “and I do not doubt that you would learn a lot at my side alone. But I’m coming to realize where you might need more than I am able to give, not because I don’t want to. Force knows I’d do whatever I could to help you, Anakin, but there are simply things I won’t be able to understand. Haven’t been able to understand,” he added and Anakin frowned at the brief, bitter note he could pick out in his master’s tone. “Master Benni’s offer has as much to do with your potential as it does with your connection to both the initiates and their minders. I— We think it’s something you should consider, despite how it’s likely not the path you first envisioned for yourself.

“You will still be my padawan, always,” he said and squeezed Anakin’s hand to reinforce the sentiment, “but you would split your time between myself and a rotating number of the crèche’s minders under Master Benni’s supervision. You’ll be busy, and kept in the Temple more often than not even if I’m sent out on missions. It may cut into your classes or lightsaber training, in which case you’ll have to work harder to keep up, but there’s not a doubt in my mind that you could do it.”

Anakin nodded, mind whirling and thoughts spinning. There was more Obi-Wan wanted to say, he could tell, but Anakin was grateful for the lull granted to him to gather his thoughts.

“I—” Anakin swallowed, his throat and mouth suddenly dry. He held his master’s wrist a fraction tighter. “Can I think about it?” He winced at how his voice cracked, but Obi-Wan only nodded, smile still firmly in place.

“Of course. You don’t have to decide on anything until you’re ready. Master Benni made it quite clear to me that the offer is open to you whenever you wish to take it, whether that time is now or after you’ve been knighted.”

Anakin blinked, balking at the magnitude of not only the offer, but the old Master’s apparent faith in him, even as the buzzing warmth from earlier threatened to consume him fully now. He felt a fresh flush rise on his cheeks and a sheen of stinging tears prick at his eyes, held back by sheer force of will because he refused to waste the water just yet. Slowly, carefully, Obi-Wan squeezed his hand before leaning forward, reaching out and grabbing a fistful of Anakin’s outer tunic. When he pulled, Anakin went as easily as he used to into his mother’s arms, overwhelmingly grateful for the contact just then.

“I’ll think about it, Master,” he mumbled into Obi-Wan’s robes, his face pressed into his master’s chest. “Thanks.”

Obi-Wan only hummed in response, tucking Anakin close and rubbing soothing circles into his back while Anakin clutched at him in return.

#star wars #anakin skywalker #obi-wan kenobi #crechemaster anakin #creche master anakin #my fanfic #i've been enamored with this au for the longest time lol #so i'm excited to finally be working on my own spin so to speak

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wakaoujisenhime · 4 years ago

Note

Hello! Can I ask headcanons about being Inarizaki manager?

A/N: Hi there and of course you can! You’re my first Haikyuu anon so I hope this lived up to your expectations! I also gave your request a little backstory so you’ll hopefully enjoy this! (´･ᴗ･ ` )

Tags: Inarizaki x reader ✅ SFW ✅ friendship ✅ fluff ✅

━━━━☆ ━━━━☆ ━━━━☆

bearing the title of Inarizaki’s manager was no easy task, in fact, it was pretty tiring and demanded a lot from the person who owned it

or at least that’s what a lot of the failed applicants claimed

it was no secret that the volleyball team organized a test period that lasted a week for each participant and rumor has it that no one has ever made it past day three

there were a lot of people from your class mostly girls that had tried their luck and were overly-confident that they’d be chosen, but right after being failed they never mentioned the volleyball club again

you on the other hand were genuinely interested in the manager position and after contemplating whether or not to apply, with the amount of support you got from your family, friends and teachers you finally found the courage to write your name on the waiting list

unfortunately for your nerves the applicants before you failed way too quickly and before you knew it, your turn had come

a young friendly-looking man with dark and spikey hair came to your classroom on a Monday morning to tell you all the details concerning the club activity later this afternoon

you listened to him attentively, trying to memorize every single detail he told you, but he must’ve noticed how nervous you were because he suddenly stopped mid-sentence

“I’m sorry, you must surely think I’m super rude for not introducing myself first before I bombarded you with all those information. My name’s Akagi and I’m Inarizaki’s libero, it’s a pleasure to meet you!”

now that you were more relaxed the two of you wrapped your chat up and bid each other goodbye before you returned to your classroom and waited for your first class to start

all those rumors about the team giving off an entirely different aura than anyone else in school was truly no exaggeration

the moment you entered the gym the prevalent tension alone was enough to make you rethink your plans, but before you could do anything a gentle voice spoke out to you

“Are you this week’s manager candidate?”

when you turned around to see who had asked you that question, you saw a tall young man with a darker skin tone smile down at you

you affirmed his question, introducing yourself with the same nervous tone from before, and fortunately, he as well showed you an equal amount of sympathy as Akagi

“I know that it must be quite overwhelming, but you really shouldn’t worry too much about it. You know I’m actually not supposed to give you any tips, but...out of everyone who walked in here you look the most promising so...just be yourself!”

and with that, the two of you walked towards the rest of his teammates so that you could finally introduce yourself to them

truth be told you expected some kind of long interrogation process and nosy questions, but they paid you good to no attention and just introduced themselves briefly

when they went back to practice their moves the captain stayed behind and asked you some general questions such as how much experience you have with volleyball and if you’re busy during the weekends

after everyone went to go and change, you stayed behind to help some of the substitute players out with cleaning the gym floors and dirty balls when Kita joined you with the cleanup

he must’ve noticed your surprised face since after just a short while he spoke up

“Please pay me no mind, I do these things quite often, so this won’t be the last time my actions will surprise you.”

“Do you do these things out of...obligation?”

the other club members were quite surprised by your sudden question, but it made the light-grey haired young man crack a smile as he told you that he was simply used to doing things the right and proper way

his remark seemed of low importance at that time, but his reasoning still stuck with you, and unbeknownst to you it helped you out quite a bit

the second day passed similar to the first one, but with the only exception that you were allowed to help out with the warming-up exercises

while everyone stretched you were finally able to get a better look at the members and you even took some notes on which exercise they did, which position they played in most frequently, and how they behaved towards their teammates

you used the moment they benched you to go over everything you learned today and needless to say there were a few very noticeable personalities that might need more time to befriend than Aran or Akagi

the first two that stood out were the Miya twins

everyone in school knew them for their constant fights amongst each other, but seeing them play and fight up close was an entirely different experience

they randomly screamed at each other when some tactic didn’t work out how they’d imagined it, but all things considered, they made a great and powerful duo

it also didn’t take you long to tell them apart look wise as well as characterwise which facilitated your notes about them

Suna was the third person you’d have to look out for and pay very close attention to

judging from his playstyle he was quite the troublesome opponent

according to some of the players who sat close to you, he was able to manipulate the blockers to jump right where he wanted them to and some of that manipulation skills even stayed with him beyond the game and made out a big part of his personality

but on a more positive note, he also had a more fun side to him

he noticed surprisingly quick if someone wasn’t in a good mood and depending on how long he’d known them he was also able to cheer them up, but this special service heavily relied on his current mood

as for the rest of the members, they seemed friendly enough and as time passed you were confident that they’d accept you in their circle of friends

the rest of the week passed by in a flash and before you knew it the last day of your “manager exam” had arrived

you were nervous as well as quite afraid that you might not have provided them with the service they needed or wished for, but the confident grins on Aran’s and Akagi’s faces managed to reassure your beating heart

everyone waited for Kita to arrive and with each passing minute you felt like you would pass out

and after what felt like an eternity he finally entered the gym with a black duffle bag and headed straight toward you

he handed you the bag without saying anything, it was after you had taken the small bundle into your hands that he spoke up, a small smile spreading across his facial features

“We’ve tested you throughout this entire week and I’m pretty sure not every single task we entrusted you with was pleasant, but you still held out and did everything the right and proper way...thank you and with this, I’d like to welcome you as Inarizaki’s first and official manager.“

it took you a short while to comprehend just what had happened and while you were still looking at the captain like a lost lamb the rest of the members surrounded and congratulated you

the person who brought you back from your daydream was Atsumu, who tightly wrapped his arms around you in a congratulatory hug

you were quite surprised since up until now he was rather well-behaved and didn’t concern himself so much with you except the usual ‘thank yous’, ‘hellos’ and ‘good evenings’ a club member would give his piers

your bewilderment must’ve been quite evident since someone pulled the blond giant away from you with a sigh

and that someone was no other than his twin brother Osamu who whispered a small apology to you and began to lecture him

“What’s it to ya ‘Samu? Ain’t it ‘bout time we dropped that whole act?”

before they could confuse you more than you already were, Ren placed his big hand on your shoulder giving you a somewhat awkward smile that was meant to console you

Hitoshi joined you two and explained how the team always had to show each candidate the cold shoulder in order to make sure that all applicants were aware of the fact that being the VBC’s manager didn’t mean partying around and chatting up a storm with the members

I see was all you could answer to that rather absurd rule they had come up with

your first day as the official manager didn’t vary that much from what you had seen during your test week, but at least now you were properly talking with all of the members

needless to say, you also became this day’s conversation topic number one

wherever you walked people would whisper amongst each other how you were the chosen one despite so many applicants

some of your classmates though had the audacity to doubt that you had won the guys over in a legitimate way and made no effort to hide their baseless accusations by speaking unnaturally loud when they were near you

it did bother you a little, but you decided to ignore their envious attempts to get you mad, sad, or whatever their goal was and dedicate yourself to getting to know your club members better...

the first few weeks you spent on getting to know the members’ skills as well as their personalities better than what you had seen already in the past week

and before you knew it, you had become not only an essential and precious part of the team but also an irreplaceable friend and companion to each of them

you made sure to help the two captains out as much as you could, but you didn’t only do it out of obligation but because you felt bad for leaving these two - especially Kita - alone with all important tasks

oddly enough a powerful team like theirs didn’t have an advisor so most organizational tasks fell on their shoulders

Kita as dutiful and thorough as he was always tackled the tasks the moment they were given to him so neither Aran nor you ever had the chance to volunteer as helpers

one day though you accepted the assignments before him and distributed them amongst the three of you as equally as you could, whereas you took on a slightly bigger portion since you were their manager

you also made sure that Kita didn’t stay behind until all the streetlights turned on and so it became a tradition for you to join him and Aran on their way back home

during those walks, you got extremely close with them and since they often discussed training and club-related matters, you were also able to learn additional things as well as plan the players’ training regimen for the following days

when you weren’t by their side, you either warmed the bench alongside the other substitute players or tried to help Hitoshi tame the two brothers

you were aware of their regular disputes and had already witnessed one yourself, but back then the team had helped resolve it so you weren’t needed

and now that they had finally found a manager, they reverted back to their habitual behavior: ignore and enjoy their dispute, film it or just look for Kita to resolve the issue

you on the other hand took it upon yourself to play the mediator and started by stopping Suna from recording or taking a photo of them

needless to say, he wasn’t very happy when you confiscated his phone, but after you explained to him that you were simply worried that as heated as the siblings were they’d one day drag him into their fight, he proposed you a deal

“Let me take at least five photos and two videos before I help with calming them down.“

your eyes narrowed as you took on a very confident pose which made it pretty obvious that you weren’t going to back down from his attempt to bargain with you

“Two photos and one video.“

“Make it three.”

“Denied. You either settle for two photos and one video or nothing at all...take it or leave it Suna.”

as much as he wanted to protest, your smug grin made him yield in the end

next up were the taller and more intimidating-looking players who’d usually stand by and laugh or sigh

“Are you really ok with the whole school making fun of our club and treating it like some kind of fighting club just because of these two dunces?”

they were quite surprised at your sudden question but weren’t as taken aback as you when they immediately headed for the gym doors to shoo away all onlookers

as for the troublesome siblings you usually stood between them the moment you sensed that they were about to fight

they’d still try to somehow either pinch the other or slap his backside and you at first tolerated it, but after a while, it just got too distracting and annoying so you straight out took hold of each of their hands and wordlessly glared at them

that method started a new trend and now their teammates constantly teased them for being your children and how funny it was to look at their embarrassed faces while you on the other hand showed no reaction whatsoever

you didn’t expect that sort of outcome, but as long as it stopped their fighting it was worth it

as their manager, you were also put in charge of organizing training matches as well as signing them up for tournaments and nationals (with the help of the coaches and captains of course)

your first training match was quite exciting and you were surprised at the number of people that came to see it

the guys were almost always in their top form when they played so you rarely had to worry about their health condition and that took quite the weight from your shoulders

even if someone showed the slightest symptoms of a cold or anything of that sorts, Kita and you would instantly be there and get the player to go home and rest

you knew that some of them hated being sick since it meant that they’d miss out on practice and saw it as some kind of betrayal towards the team

Atsumu was one of these types of people and he was the heaviest case out of all of them

so you made sure to drop by the twins’ house after club activities ended and cheer him up, by changing the cloth on his forehead, cutting some apples for him, or just being there to keep him company

after that Osamu would always insist on bringing you home since the sun had already set

the two of you would always talk about the most random things, but sometimes your conversations got quite serious and personal

in fact, you were the first person he shared his future plans with, saying that he could trust you with keeping it a secret

as for the nationals...

your first one was very overwhelming

the gym was so enormous that it outshined any other gym you had visited with them

it was no secret that the entire ambiance intimidated you and the moment you saw their personal cheering squad you couldn’t help but freeze-up

you had heard that their cheering squad was like no other and that it even rivaled that of many other powerhouse schools, but much like other rumors you had dismissed it

...until now

“Impressive isn’t it?” Ren asked to which you just nodded

but you noticed quickly just how much of an effect their audience had during the match

their steady and powerful rhythms managed to not only motive your team but also discompose your opponents

what surprised you the most was how the older gentlemen in the crowd didn’t hold back on their snide remarks when someone made a mistake or didn’t play seriously

after each match, all of you had come up with small rituals you’d do

depending on the outcome of the game you’d either throw a small party to commemorate their victory or try to cheer them up with a motivational speech followed by a movie night

all in all, you truly came to love volleyball, as well as your team and each of its members, and they did too

they were truly happy to have won such a dependable and caring manager like yourself

the entire team always made sure to celebrate your birthday and go all out on your presents as well as on the party they’d organize for you

all of them always made sure to return your kindness with double the effort and love you had given them

you were sick?

no problem, every day two members would visit you and take turns in taking care of your needs until you were healthy

you were sad?

they’d buy you your favorite snacks, cook you your favorite meal, rent your favorite movie and then knock on your front door, demanding to be let in

...and so on

they had become something like your second family and you didn’t even dare imagine a scenario where you didn’t apply for the position of the manager

the same goes for them, they had given up the hope to find someone who manages their team, but the moment you had entered the gym they almost instantly knew that you’d be the one to take them to victory

and they were right...

#haikyuu imagines #haikyuu headcanons #inarizaki headcanons #haikyuu fluff #━𝙷𝚀 #━𝙰𝙽𝙾𝙽'𝚂 𝙴𝙲𝙷𝙾

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runephoenix6769 · 4 years ago

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“What is with the Blake / Yang hate this week? Folks seem particularly fired up.” I asked this question on a forum because of something I’ve noticed the last few days on discussions about Blake and Yang/Bumbleby/shipping in general. I keep seeing the same answers. “It ruins the team’s dynamic.”

Welp, I’m pretty certain none of those people would say that Raven/Tai and Tai/Summer ruined the team’s dynamic. Or that Ren and Nora are currently ruining the team’s dynamic. What is this holy than thou crusading to protect the sanctity of the team dynamic? Rwby has always been first and foremost about interpersonal relationships. It’s what drives the actual plot. Character growth, failing relationships/friendships. How they change over time, either to grow or crumble.

“It’s being shoehorned in, for fanwank.” How? How is it being shoehorned in? Give me a narrative breakdown as to where/how/when this occurs? Compare it to the Sun/Blake narrative and show me the glaring differences between the Yang/Blake narrative to prove that bumbleby was never planned yet blacksun was? (Sidenote. Anyone that has been asked to do this on the forum has yet to do it.)

“Yang showed interest in boys.”“ Yes, yes she passed comment once. In vol 1 episode 1. 8 VOLUMES AGO. She has shown not a lick of interest in guys since. Its almost as if she’s like any normal 17 year old girl who is growing into adulthood and figuring herself out, who might be realising her interest in Blake isn’t strictly platonic and is trying to navigate that whilst also grappling with what that means with regards to their friendship. And dealing with an over arching situation that is, ya know, potentially the end of the world as they know it. It’s about two years in universe, right? Which is about right of an amount of time for what its happening between them to play out. It only feels like longer to the audience because, well, its taken 8/9 years to tell the story up until that point.

“The Fans are too loud/vocal/come on too strong.” Ok, this one I agree with, we are loud and vocal and that might come across as coming on strong (here’s a huge) BUT, there is actually a genuine explanation for why it seems that way. If you really think about it, objectively.

Hear me out. Fans are excited about the potential representation we don't otherwise usually get in media. I mean, if you have 10,000 pieces of media and only ONE of them represents lgbtq people, of course we’re gonna be excited and talk about the ONE quite a bit with others who are like us. This might also be the first time we’ve seen anything like this, or seen ourselves represented in a somewhat positive light. It stands to reason that the other 9999 pieces aren't going to hold our attention as much, esp if its the same hetero romance played out a bajillion times before, right? I mean, if you have a group of people who are constantly represented in the 9999 other shows, their voices are going to spread thinner, right? They aren’t going to be gathered all on one place, talking about the same thing because there are 9999 other choices to connect them to other people. They aren’t going to care as much if their straight ship happens/doesnt happen

“Hey, I can move onto another piece of media that is churned out by the status quo. No big deal.”

Hetero romances are ten a penny. Flick through netflix, hulu, crunchy roll etc. Where as if you have a group of people who are only represented in ONE show out of the 10,000 those people are going to gather in one place to connect with others and its only going to seem like they are louder due to the densely packed space. These same people have been majority silent about the other 9999 pieces of media as their voice isn't usually represented in a positive light - being queer characters are usually brutally murdered or sidelined. (Thankyou Hays Code.)- or not even represented at all. (Bury Your Gays is a trope for a reason, folks.) And we are NEVER the titular characters. We’ve been living on crumbs and subtext for decades! Not to mention showrunners who actively queerbait the hell out of us for ratings and viewership. The almighty Pink Pound as its often referred to in business. “But why do they have to make them gay?” You’re not made gay, you’re born gay. It just takes longer for some people to realise than others. It can be a gradual realisation. And this is quite possibly the case with Yang/Blake, slowly coming to realise their own burgeoning sexualities and attraction to each other.

”Why do they have to be gay?” They don't need a reason to be queer! They just are! Queerness is only a part of a person, not their everything. It’s actually quite refreshing to see Yang/Blake being portrayed as much more than their potential sexuality. Ask yourself, ‘Why does a character have to be straight? And why doesn’t a straight character have to constantly reaffirm their sexuality? Why is ‘straightness’ assumed by default?’ Heteronormativity, is something that has been perpetuated by decades of media. (helped by the Hays Code with its out of date moral code. To be other is to be punished within the narrative.) That straight is the default setting. It’s not! We exist! Everywhere! We always have and we are going to talk to each other about it when we see a glimpse of ourselves represented in what has been a relative Sahara Desert when it comes to queer content were we are not villainised. “The romance is detracting from the plot.” Two seconds ago, people were claiming that the romance was none existent. Which is it? But Nora and Ren’s romance that is being held up as a mirror to bumbleby is fine? That Jaune relentlessly pursuing Weiss was perfectly ok. Neptune openly hitting on female characters is fine.

“I don’t have a problem with LGBT. I just don’t want it forced down my throat.” Again, out of 10,000 pieces of media, this is just ONE show. Nobody is forcing anyone to watch it or participate. Queer people have had to stomach literal 100′s of years of straight media forced upon them. Since the very conception of the written word and narrative storytelling. In plays, theatre, art, music, tv, film, on billboards, advertising, in places of education and learning etc etc. Queer people are bombarded with it whilst also being surrounded by negativity towards queerness.

“They are shoving it down my throat!” part two Is hand holding, compassion and expressing concern for another person and comforting them somehow offensive? Renora kissed, not a problem. Arkos kissed, not a problem. Show me in the sand where the line is drawn. What is the difference? Please explain this to me? Why is the expression of queerness somehow offensive? Is this because decades of media have perpetuated the false idea that all queer people are sex crazed perverts? That you’ve been groomed into thinking that queer sexuality is only based in the act of sex itself? That queer sexuality couldn’t possibly be similar to heterosexuality in its expression?

That it couldn’t possibly be about attraction, emotional, mental and maybe one day blossom into physical between two consenting adults, a pure expression of love the exact same as heterosexuality.

That some how queer love stems from some sort of deviancy or mental health issue. That queer people are some how bad or evil, and therefore their expression of affection is wrong? Oh, I wonder where those beliefs have possibly stemmed from? “Why are they in my face?” part three. 50% of of the titular cast are potentially queer. Blake and Yang. But if you look at the overall cast ensemble that runs at minimum 16 any given volume, that’s a measly 12.5% (prolly a lot smaller if you actually counted the whole cast that appears in rotation each volume) Also, someone did the math. Blake - a titular character- actually has less spoken lines that Jaune. ffs. B&Y spent neatly a whole two volumes of 8 apart. 25% of the narrative as it stands on entirely different continents.

I fail to see how it being in someone’s face could be the case.

“I just don't see it!”

That’s ok and perfectly valid But listen when people who have lived this experience are telling you that their experience is being portrayed on the screen. That they see themselves being represented. OK, This completely got away from me. In conclusion. They are more straight people than queer people and media often reflects that. We are usually the silent minority, we are sick of it but we are used to it and we are very excited that things seem to be finally changing.

It’s two characters in an large cast in ONE show out of 10,000. Its a piece of media that, for a change, hasn’t been 100% curated for straight people. We are often not allowed to play in the sand box and if we are, we’re told to play with the broken toys, be grateful and quiet. So when we are given a sandbox to play in with new unbroken toys, we are gonna dog pile in there and make a ruckas, calling our friends over. What I’m trying to say is, it’s gonna get rowdy. and here’s something to think about. “When you are used to privilege, equality feels like deprivation.”

#rwby #yang xiao long #blake belladonna #bumbleby

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startanewdream · 4 years ago

Text

Fate

Summary: The morning after Harry faces Quirrell - and Voldemort -, James and Lily meet Harry's best friends.

I always wanted to write something about James and Lily meeting Ron and Hermione, but this turned out harder than I imagined. So please enjoy probably the only interaction between these four characters I'll ever write.

Read on AO3 or below the cut:

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The halls are empty as they walk by and Lily feels grateful. From everything they’ve heard, the news of Harry’s little night adventure will soon be known by the whole school - as if their son is not already on the spotlight for that scar on his head. The boy-who-lived.

The boy-who-lived again, she thinks somberly, not at all happy with everything that Harry did the last night.

He was supposed to be safe at Hogwarts, and yet his first year had been far from normal. Dumbledore had explained how Quirrell was working with Voldemort - possessed, she remembers with a shudder -, how he was responsible for almost killing Harry on that first Quidditch match and then last night, in his attempt to find the Philosopher's Stone.

She should have known something was bound to happen after Harry had first told them about how someone had jinxed. And she should have noticed how weird he was over Christmas, spending an strange amount of time in the library of their house - which now Lily understands as him searching for clues for who Nicholas Flamel was.

Something Harry had kept a secret of, not once asking his parents if they knew anything about it, which Lily will admonish him later, when he wakes up.

When. The uncertainty of it all makes her shudder too.

At her side, James’ face is troubled. Lily knows he is feeling fiercely proud of their son, of what Harry faced, even though he is worried for Harry’s condition, for what it meant.

The hospital wing is deserted but for its only patient. Madam Pomfrey assures them that Harry is still in the same condition, in that deep sleep of someone who has spent too much of his magic. He will recover, Madam Pomfrey had assured them early in the morning when they had first come to see him, and Dumbledore had also guaranteed it; Harry just needs to replenish his energies.

But despite knowing this and despite having already seen it, her heart still clenches at the sight of Harry laying on that hospital bed, looking so tiny there, his face pale with cuts on his cheeks, and his neck and arms with purple spots where a devil’s snare had bound him.

A devil’s snare. Her eleven-years-old son faced a deadly plant - not to mention that three-headed dog and living chessmen and, of course, Lord Voldemort.

‘He looks so young’, James mumbles, caressing softy Harry’s hair to mess it like Harry enjoys.

‘He is young. Too young to meet Voldemort again - we were at least of age when that happened’.

‘Yeah, but Harry is marked since birth’, James sighs. ‘And at least now we know what this does’.

He touches Harry’s scar carefully, tracing the lightning bolt before rearranging the hair to hide it as Harry always does. Harry always hated that scar, how everyone would look at it when they were out in wizarding places; he always avoided the spotlight.

And then he went and got himself an adventure everyone will know about in Hogwarts, she thinks.

‘It’s really a love protection’, Lily whispers. ‘I know that Dumbledore always suspected, but -’

‘Oh, don’t talk about him’, James grumbles. ‘I am still a little mad. I get it that he gave Harry all the tools for this quest, but -’

‘But he didn’t warn us’, Lily agrees, sighing. ‘Or told us about. You know why’.

‘We would not allow it. We would want Harry to be protected no matter what’.

‘He already is’, Lily notes, watching her son’s sleeping face. ‘I know it’s not really a comfort, but if he needs to face Voldemort, I will sleep easily knowing that he really can’t touch Harry or get near him at home’.

‘I can’t believe he tried to get back’, James says heavily. ‘I mean, I can, but… I think I let myself believe it would never happen’.

Lily smiles sadly. The shadow of Voldemort hung over their heads for the last ten years, a topic they almost never mention but they can’t forget either. And now, to think of everyone who could have discovered about the Philosopher’s Stone, who could have faced Quirrell - it feels a lot like it was supposed to be Harry, as if it’s his destiny to face -

No, she says to herself, even as she remembers that old prophecy supposedly binding Harry’s fate.

‘And I can’t believe Harry didn’t say anything’, James adds, though Lily thinks he sounds more exasperated than annoyed.

Well, knowing James, he is probably a little impressed that Harry, always dutiful, got to keep a secret about everything and got an adventure that’s undeniably remarkable.

‘Don’t congratulate him for it’, she warns him.

‘Oh, no’, he agrees lightly. ‘I may have found that story with the dragon amusing, but keeping things from us? Especially when he was suspecting old Snape of all people?’

She lets out a reluctant laugh.

‘He is really your son, isn’t he? Barely knows him and already has a grudge against him’.

‘We Potters have good taste; and in any case, he was wrong, wasn’t he?’ James stops, looking at her rather concerned. ‘And how do you feel about it?’

‘About what?’

‘What Dumbledore said. About Snape trying to protect Harry all year and even dealing with Quirrell -’

‘He said it was because of his life’s debt to you’, Lily cuts him off, with fatality in her voice. ‘He probably never got over that, just like he never moved on -’

‘You?’, James asks softly, and Lily pretends to not have heard it.

‘ - on his feud with you’, she finishes. ‘It doesn’t have anything to do with me. We haven’t talked for - what? - over ten years now?’

James just shrugs.

‘I just meant - if you want to talk to him -’

‘There is nothing to talk about’.

He raises his eyebrows, not believing her, and Lily keeps her gaze locked on Harry’s face without betraying any emotion. She is telling him the truth; she feels like there is nothing more between her and Snape - he never once tried to contact her, and for all she has heard now and then as how Snape is as a professor - favouring Slytherins and mistreating other students -, she is not sure she even wants to be near him again.

And she is positive that all he did to help Harry was thinking only to somewhat not feeling more in debt to James. She remembers how sour he had been about that.

There is no reason for Snape to do anything thinking of her.

‘Well, if you are sure, I just thought -’

But whatever James thinks is lost, because they hear a noise coming from the door of the Hospital Wing. Someone is trying to open the locked door, moving the doorknob.

‘You can try Alohomora’, a boy is saying.

‘Not in the Hospital Wing. We will get into trouble’, says a girl.

There is a muffled laugh.

‘More trouble, you mean? And we just want to know how Harry is, it’s no crime -’

‘Well, Madam Pomfrey didn’t let us in earlier. Maybe - maybe we should wait -’

‘We’ve been waiting since yesterday!’

Madam Pomfrey appears after hearing the commotion outside, but Lily raises, shaking her head with a reassuring smile. The nurse frowns, but she nods, returning to her office as Lily approaches the door.

‘Or I can pretend my head is still hurting. Better yet, I can throw myself from some stairs and then - oh!’

Lily opens the door. Facing her are two kids she has never seen before, a tall ginger boy and a girl with a bushy brown hair, but she can deduce who they are from Harry’s description - he mentions them in every letter he sends home and he had talked about Ron and Hermione over Christmas, evidently missing his best friends.

‘Hello’, she greets pleasantly, amused by the fact that they are both frozen staring at her, embarrassed to be caught.

‘He-Hello, Mrs. Potter’, Hermione says, nudging Ron when he stays silent.

‘We didn’t mean to disturb’, he says hurriedly, the tip of his ears burning. ‘We just -’

‘Wanted to see Harry, yes, I heard you. Please come in. Harry is still sleeping but you can stay a little - it’s better than injuring yourself’.

Now his whole face is as red as his hair, but Ron nods, entering the infirmary with Hermione. They look both shy, their steps slow as they approach the bed Harry is sleeping in, throwing brief glances at James. When Lily turns to him, she sees James is frowning, looking strangely stern, his face unsmiling.

‘Hello, Mr. Potter’, Hermione says with a tentative smile.

‘Er - nice to meet you, Mr. Potter’, Ron adds.

James just nods, quiet and unmoving. Ron and Hermione exchange a look, apparently unsure of what to make of him - Lily supposes that Harry shared with them stories about his father’s years at Hogwarts and that his somber face is nothing like they expected; but, to their credits, they keep moving until they are on the other side of Harry’s bed.

And then their stress with meeting Harry’s parents finally turns completely into their stress for Harry; Lily sees the worry on their faces, how upset they seem contemplating the injuries on Harry - despite the fact that Ron has the same purple marks on his neck, she realizes - and how they really care for Harry.

‘Is he okay?’, asks Hermione, her voice heavy as if she is refraining from crying. Ron takes a step closer to her almost without noticing it.

‘He will be’, Lily assures them softly, coming to James’ side, but his eyes are still on the pair in front of him, slightly narrowed.

She resists the urge to sigh. They've already shown they are his friend…

'He could have died', James says grimly. 'He faced Voldemort'.

They both shudder, and Lily throws a warning look at James now. They are just kids.

‘Was really him?’, Ron asks in a scared whisper.

‘And Professor Quirrell?’, Hermione adds, equally trembling. ‘Was he really working with You-Know-Who?’

‘Yes’, Lily says simply, arranging Harry’s blanket around him. There is no reason to lie to them - and they need to understand. ‘You could have all been killed’.

Ron and Hermione exchange a look and now Lily sees resolution in their faces, all traces of fear disappearing.

‘We couldn’t let Harry alone’, Ron says quietly. Lily feels his loyalty, but there is none of it in his voice as if it never occurred to him to do anything differently.

She fights back a smile, glancing briefly at James and hoping it’s enough for him - it certainly is enough for her, but James just crosses his arms.

‘And you didn’t think of calling someone?’, he asks, raising his eyebrows, watching them flush under the seriousness in his voice.

‘We tried Professor Dumbledore’, answers Hermione, and Lily remembers Harry saying, exasperated and fondly, that Hermione always feels a need to provide a right answer. ‘It was the first place we went, but we found out he was gone and… and Professor Snape suspected us, and we thought - well - he seemed so suspicious - ’

‘That old bat really looks like your typical villain’, James agrees, making Ron chuckle in appreciation. The corners of James’ mouth twitch too and he almost breaks his stern parent character.

‘James…’, she calls him, just a little bit reprehensive. They are the parents there after all.

‘Well -’, Hermione continues, looking uncertain of what to make of James making fun of a professor. ‘There was no time to call anyone - we didn’t know who to trust and Harry knew there was no time to contact you’.

‘He wrote you a letter’, Ron says, a little hesitant. ‘Just in case… he said’.

Lily shudders.

‘He knew what was at stake’, Hermione adds, her voice very low. ‘And so did we’.

‘And you went anyway?’, James asks.

Ron and Hermione seem bewildered by James’ question.

‘Harry was going’, Ron answers at last as if that explains everything. Hermione nods.

‘He said… Harry said that if he didn’t do anything, he would only risk... dying... a bit later than he would have, because he was never going over to the Dark Side. He said he was going through the trapdoor because - because You-Know-Who had tried to kill you and he had to act’.

Her breath catches in her throat and Lily glances over to Harry, to that small kid laying on the hospital bed, her heart filling with a pride of him that protects her from the flood of fear Hermione’s account also brings her.

She had wondered why Harry had gone over to face Quirrell when he knew Voldemort was somehow involved, and she had thought it was just an impulsive streak on him, a desire to do the right thing because James had taught Harry since he was very young to be brave and selfless and to stand up. But she had never guessed that Harry had thought of them, as if somehow he felt the need to protect his parents too.

‘Oh, Harry’, James whispers at her side, his voice tender as he stares at his son as if he wants to take Harry and run away with him to the safest place he can find. Then he blinks and turns to Ron and Hermione, his face serious. ‘So - instead of telling your friend that his idea was crazy and that you should find some adult to deal with it, you just went with him to face an evil Dark Lord?’

There is another look exchanged between Ron and Hermione, and it suddenly occurs to Lily that they can talk to each other without exchanging any word at all.

‘Hum. Yeah?’, Ron says, again sounding as if it is obvious to him.

‘Even when you could be expelled?’, James adds, looking at Hermione. Her face is all flushed, but she nods.

‘There are worse things than being expelled’, she says, making Ron throw an amused look at her.

‘Now you think that?’

‘Well, I learned, didn’t I?’

‘Who would have thought that Miss Know-it-all would -’

James coughs loudly, interrupting them, and they turn to him with a guilty expression on their faces, looking like kids who have just been scolded by their parents.

They are, Lily thinks, and James is a parent. Despite everything they’ve been through that year - that story with the troll, stopping the jinx on Harry on his first Quidditch game, searching for Nicholas Flamel, that weird story with the baby dragon and then a detention on the Forbidden Forest (she is not sure what Dumbledore was up with that) -, which she feels are adventures enough for a lifetime instead for just their first year at Hogwarts, they are just kids.

Kids who are Harry’s friends and considering Harry’s involvement in all those adventures, how he seems a magnet for trouble, she thinks they will need to be ready for any challenge if they want to be by Harry’s side.

No, not if they want. Considering where they were last night, considering the resolve she sees in their eyes, it seems that decision is already made for them. It fills her with pride that Harry radiates loyalty to his friends just as much as it fills her with dread that he may need it.

And still, there is a warmth in her heart now as she contemplates them, a sudden fondness for both of them, but Lily waits for James. She knows trust is much harder for him and that James is always sensitive about friendship values.

‘If I were you’, James begins, his voice strict before he breaks into that contagious lopsided grin that is his trademark, ‘I would have done the same’.

‘Hmm, what, Mr. Potter?’, Hermione asks, confused.

‘Oh, everything you did, except I would never forget my Invisibility Cloak on top of the Astronomy Tower’, James says genially. ‘And it’s James, Mr. Potter was my old dad’.

‘You mean… you are not mad with us?’, tries Ron.

‘I am a little mad that Harry didn’t tell us sooner, but about you two - oh, no, I’m very glad that you are friends with Harry’.

They smile tentatively.

‘Not that we approve you didn’t call an adult to solve everything’, Lily adds lightly. ‘But, yes, we are happy Harry has friends by his side’.

‘Who helped with that dragon?’

‘My brother’, Ron says, bewildered, looking at James. ‘He sent some friends to collect him’.

‘Baby dragon’, James says, amused. ‘Now that’s something I’ve never thought before’.

‘And Hogwarts is a safer place because of it. Imagine if you ever laid a hand on a dragon’, Lily says, grinning at him. Then she turns to Ron and Hermione. ‘You should come stay with us for a few days in the summer’.

‘I - Harry too, I mean -’ Ron flushes up to his hair. ‘It’s not a big house, nothing like you must have, but Mum told me to invite Harry too’.

‘Molly, isn’t it?’, Lily asks, smiling at him. ‘I loved the sweater she sent Harry. I have to thank her for it’.

‘We knew her brothers’, James adds, with a sigh. ‘But we were never very close to her and Arthur. Time to fix that, huh?'

‘We should have a family dinner. We can call both your parents - yours are Muggle, right?’, Lily asks, turning to Hermione, who nods.

‘They are… Harry told me you are Muggleborn too, Mrs. Potter?’

‘It’s Lily, and yes, I’m Muggleborn’. Their eyes meet and Lily sees something flashing in Hermione’s eyes, something she remembers sharing with Mary McDonalds many years ago - that acknowledgement of what it means to have Muggle parents in the wizarding world. They smile at each other.

Then Hermione turns to James and says timidly: ‘Harry also told me you are a transfiguration theorist, Mr. Potter’.

‘James’, he reinforces, though his smile shows he knows he doesn’t expect Hermione to immediately call him by his first name. ‘I wouldn’t say a theorist, I do enjoy some practical applications’, he says, but Hermione’s puzzled look tells them Harry didn’t share with them that his father is an animagus. ‘You like Transfiguration?’

‘I love it!’, Hermione says excitedly, just as Ron groans and shakes his head. ‘It’s my favourite subject - Professor McGonagall is amazing and everything just makes so much sense -’

‘Hermione’, Ron calls her, exasperated. ‘Keep talking about Transfiguration and Harry will refuse to wake up for the boredom of it’.

She flushes, but James lets out a chuckle. ‘Harry never appreciated Transfiguration’, he says, winking at Hermione. ‘That’s fine, we true connoisseurs of the most noble of the magical arts can discuss it later’.

Hermione looks simply delighted at the idea. Ron laughs.

‘Watch it’, he warns James, good-hearted. ‘There is not a thing Hermione can’t discuss for hours’.

He is teasing, but there is such fondness in his voice that shows how he really feels about Hermione’s obsessions.

‘As if you are not the same with chess’, Hermione replies, in the same voice, smiling.

‘Oh, that’s true, you were the one that beat Minerva’s chess’, James says. ‘I was impressed - I only beat her once. You should try playing with her sometime’.

‘With Professor McGonagall?’, Ron asks, surprised. ‘No, I couldn’t -’

‘Minerva doesn’t bite’, James assures him. ‘Beneath her stern face there is a soft kitty’.

Ron raises his eyebrows, clearly unsure if James is playing with him or not - Lily knows that James has a soft spot for Minerva, but she isn’t certain if anyone could describe her as a soft kitt

'She also has the best biscuits', James adds, eyes sparkling. Ron's smile is brighter now, which sparks a memory on Lily.

'Have you had breakfast yet?', she asks and they both shake their head. 'Go on then, you should eat'.

'Ah…', Ron hesitates, even as his stomach rumbles. Lily resists a sudden urge to pass her hand through his red hair, like she would with Harry.

'You can come back later', she promises, knowing what's on their minds. Her smile falters a little. 'Harry will be here for a while'.

They turn to Harry, somber too.

'He will be okay', Hermione whispers, more to herself, and Ron takes a step closer to her, bumping her shoulder with his arms; he is much taller than her.

'Sure he will', he says confidently. 'It's Harry'.

She turns to him, smiling and nodding, and Ron's ears turn red. Lily fights back a smile.

Harry will have a full plate with these two someday.

'We will come back later then. See you, Mr. and Mrs. Potter', says Hermione, practical, grabbing Ron's arm so they can leave. Ron nods to them.

Lily watches them go with a soft smile before sitting on the closest empty bed.

James sits next to her, his arms around her waist and Lily rests her head against his shoulder.

'Harry will be fine', James whispers and Lily knows what he is talking about.

She thinks of watching James with Sirius, Remus and even Peter all those years go, back in their first year at Hogwarts. She remembers being annoyed by them, those boys that were always involved in some prank and that never left Snape alone, but also impressed by their friendship. Whatever reservations Lily had with them back then, she would never deny they were true friends, always together, always with each other's back.

There is also a sadness when she thinks about them, as she remembers how that bright group of Marauders almost broke from inside - the dark time when they were at war, when they mistrusted each other. She thinks of how James had been broken then, having to admit there was a traitor among them and not knowing - not believing - who it could be.

And she remembers the darkness on his face as he understood Peter had betrayed him. Peter, who James had protected so much, had comforted in the most difficult times and to whom James had trusted the things he most valued in his life - his family.

When Peter had died, something had died in James too. Lily always thought that his death had broken James mostly because now he would never understand why Peter had betrayed them.

And as Harry's letter began mentioning more and more Ron and then Hermione, when it became obvious that Harry was attached to them with a fierceness that spoke of his love and loyalty, James had been worried. He understood the betrayal and heartbreak that came with losing a friend - something Lily shared too. They both knew what it meant to give a piece of your heart to someone who broke it without hesitation.

But now… after seeing Ron and Hermione worried about Harry, knowing that it never occurred to them that Harry could go alone, she knows James is right.

Maybe Harry's destiny is really predicted by that prophecy, maybe he was always meant to face Voldemort the night before. But Lily thinks of the coincidences that meant Harry and Ron would share the exact same train compartment and then how, of all students, they would be the one to face a troll with Hermione, and she thinks that maybe fate meant for them to be friends.

It's a comforting thought.

#jily lives au #jily fanfiction #jily meets ron and hermione #eyes glistening #t: fanfiction #friendship

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yellowocaballero · 4 years ago

Text

Human Relations Snippet: Jon and Sasha versus Bad Telenovelas

This is a birthday request from @hihereami who wanted something very Latin American and an excuse to show me her favorite shows. This takes place in early Season 3, before Jude Perry but with Sasha working at the office. Jon fudged some stuff. It features incredibly stupid office dynamics, bad relationships, and a shared history that produced two very different people. Happy birthday, Ami!

CW as usual for Human Relations: explicitly discussed transphobia, references to 19th century racism, and a depiction of a platonic abusive relationship.

Sasha now understood that she was talking to an expert.

“Fine,” she said grudgingly, gathering the papers back up. She left out her great outline and timetable, though, because Martin should definitely appreciate it. “But the number one rule here is to keep up an active support system, right? Which means Jon needs more than just you.” Martin gave her a hilariously prissy look, which she responded with an equally prissy one. “He thinks we have a psychic bond or something.” They did but Sasha didn’t want to admit that. “Look, I’ve been harassing Jon for months about how shitty Jonah is. But if he’s going to listen to me, he needs to know that...I guess that I care about him more than I hate Jonah. That I’m not doing it out of spite or with some ulterior motive to get something out of him.”

Martin closed the manila folder, carefully attaching a label on it and writing down their coded filing system on the tab. “You don’t care about him more than you hate Jonah. You are doing this with ulterior motives. But it would be pretty hypocritical of me to care about that, so...he likes television? And he likes hearing about your life and the things important to you. He’s like this historical, cultural, political, anthropological sponge. I mean, he knows everything about everything, but it’s his passion. So if you want to combine the two…”

And, of course, once Martin said that then the answer was obvious.

Sasha liked to be the smartest person in the room.

The problem with people like Sasha was that, very frequently, they were the smartest person in the room. For seventeen years of her life Sasha had been remarkably and thoroughly assured that she would go places, she was really going to make all of us proud, she’s going to take care of us in our old age, Mrs. Pérez’s son just wastes every day with his girlfriend but here you are, studying all day with your complete lack of friends!

Once she skipped town - well, town, country, Americas, oceans - all of that had been replaced with shiny grades and the bragging rights of Oxford and the implicit looming pressure of her scholarship. Sasha had always been the smartest person in the room. She couldn’t afford anything else - not if she wanted someone to care, not if she wanted to get anywhere in life.

Every adult was somewhat of a child inside: happily ignoring a toy until it was taken away, at which point they would scream and scream. And when Sasha didn’t feel like the smartest person in the room - or, worse, others didn’t see her as the smartest person in the room - there was nothing tolerable about it.

Upon retrospect, workplace and academic discrimination, in addition to some healthy insecurity, bothered her so much that she sold her soul to the devil about it, but apparently this was an semi-common occurrence. Abuela had been right. Teach Sasha to doubt her again.

Mrs. Pérez’s son probably hadn’t accidentally sold his soul to the devil. He and his girlfriend were probably happy with their hard working but low-paying jobs, their cute little smattering of babies, and their mass every week. They’d have long, happy lives, and the amount of life-or-death situations they were put in were probably no more than usual.

Well. Sasha would literally rather die than do that, and that resolve had been tested very thoroughly. She stood by it. Sasha had never regretted a decision she made in her life, besides the ones that sold her soul to the devil, and also maybe some things about Tim. But most of her decisions were good. And even if they weren’t good, she stubbornly stood by them.

That’s why this was difficult. For all of Sasha’s insecurity reasons that, to be fair, had mostly drifted into the background of her life while she had been on the run for murder. And because it was Martin.

“Sasha, I’m not sure what help I can give you.”

Godfuckingdammit.

“Please?” Sasha slid into the seat across from Martin, giving him her best big cow eyes. “Don’t hog the emotional manipulation. You’re the expert in making Jon do what you want, just...work your magic!”

Martin looked up from the statement he was organizing shot Sasha an extremely flat look. Martin was extremely good at looking extremely unimpressed. “Because I’m the one who can magically make people do what I want.”

Sasha winced. “At least you didn’t sell your soul to a demon about it?”

“I know you tell yourself a lot of people do that to make yourself feel better about doing it, but literally nobody does that.” At Sasha’s double wince, Martin sighed. “Don’t listen to Jonah. You didn’t do anything a normal, non-satanic person wouldn’t do. If I could…” Martin trailed off slightly, staring a little in the distance, before shaking back to himself. “I’m not helping you manipulate Jon. That’s my place in this ecosystem.”

“Then we should team up,” Sasha wheedled. She reached into her briefcase - which nowadays contained little more than alcohol and Statements, she wasn’t sure that Georgie had been a good influence on her - and yanked out the print-outs before slapping it on the table. “See, I did research!”

Martin slid the papers closer to him, leafing through them quickly. Sasha waited for him to look very impressed and appreciative of how socially competent yet intellectual she was, but he didn’t look very impressed at all. “ “Help someone in an Abusive or Controlling relationship”, ‘3 ways to support someone stuck in a controlling relationship’, ‘How can I help someone in a toxic relationship’...”

“You aren’t going to deny it, are you?” Sasha asked heatedly. “Because Tim just does not get what I mean no matter how many leaflets I show him because he ‘framed me for murder’ or whatever -”

“Do not pretend as if you’re forgiven him for the murder thing.”

“I fucking hate his guts over it. I will never, ever forgive either of them.” Sasha’s heart spiked in her chest, and she forced herself to take a few calming breaths. “This is a problem. Jon and Jonah are a problem. I don’t think we’re in a position to take on Jonah right now - even if I am working on it. But Jon is a weak link here. We know he’s impossible to kill -” At Martin’s extremely alarmed look, Sasha quickly elaborated, “ - and I wouldn’t want to, although he would really technically deserve it with all of his human rights violations. It would be far easier, and a better use of our resources, if we got Jon to our side. Then hopefully those two could...blow each other up, or something.”

Martin stared at her, expression implacable. Sasha became abruptly aware that she had just threatened to blow up this guy’s semi-boyfriend, and resisted the urge to apologize. She wasn’t apologetic. This was what she had to do, and Sasha always did what had to be done. It didn’t matter if she hated Jon so much that she wanted him dead, when he would be more useful to her alive. It doesn’t matter if she knew that, deep down, Jon was an exceptionally kind and caring person who loved very deeply, and that who he was now was a product of a great deal of influences mostly out of his control. If he was who Sasha was going to turn into, given enough time.

She would stick to the plan. Sasha was going to get herself and her Assistants - including Melanie now, for some reason, who still refused to believe them about the psychic vampire thing despite how many times Jon confessed to it - out of this.

Finally, Martin said, “I’m not going to deny it, Sasha. I’ve printed out all those guides, I’ve read all of the books, I’ve done everything. I’ve been working on this since - I think since I decided that I loved Jon more than I hated him. I’ve got Jon’s trust. And, way more importantly, Jonah is convinced that I’m harmless. He doesn’t pay any attention to me. I think he, like, secretly hates it whenever Jon has someone - whatever. But he is obsessed with everything you do.” At Sasha’s disturbed look, Martin shrugged. “He micromanages. Jon complains about it. I don’t think Jon gets that he really spills the cards on all of Jonah’s plans when he gets drunk and bitches about him.”

Sasha now understood that she was talking to an expert.

“Fine,” she said grudgingly, gathering the papers back up. She left out her great outline and timetable, though, because Martin should definitely appreciate it. “But the number one rule here is to keep up an active support system, right? Which means he needs more than just you.” Martin gave her a hilariously prissy look, which she responded with an equally prissy one. “He thinks we have a psychic bond or something.” They did but Sasha didn’t want to admit that. “Look, I’ve been harassing him for months about how shitty Jonah is. But if he’s going to listen to me, he needs to know that...I guess that I care about him more than I hate Jonah. That I’m not doing it out of spite or with some ulterior motive to get something out of him.”

And, of course, once Martin said that then the answer was obvious.

*******

Sasha was now willing to admit that Martin was smarter than she was.

It was always kind of a crapshoot when looking for Jon. He was only around the Institute half the time, probably less, and he refused to buy a cell phone so anybody could stay in contact with him. Tim had also flatly refused, because Jon would inevitably go to him for help with figuring it out, and apparently that could take hours. Sasha had volunteered to help Jon with accessing some online archives, and apparently she had explained it so confusingly that Jon was left refusing to touch a computer for a month.

The farthest they could go was convincing him to take a Jitterbug for emergencies. Tim had taken great pains to explain the LifeAlert function, to Jon’s increasing lack of amusement. When Sasha had explained the adventure to Georgie, a known social media sensation over wine at their weekly girls night, she had found it hilarious and was very impressed.

“Jon must be really attached to you guys,” Georgie had said, carefully nibbling at her luxury chocolate. Girl’s nights with Georgie were decadent. “I mean, not that he doesn’t talk about all of you nonstop, but he can spend ten years incorporating the Beholding into every piece of technology in the country while willfully refusing to learn how to work a computer.”

Sasha hadn’t missed Georgie’s word choice - deliberately refusing instead of an incapability to learn - but something else in the sentence was stranger to her. “I thought he was all about all kinds of knowledge.”

“I hear that the future can be terrifying for a lot of people,” Georgie had said wisely. “No matter how much of it they experience.”

“Is it terrifying for you?”

“Goodness, no.” Georgie had flashed her a bright grin - not so much a showing of teeth as it was a peek at a bone-white skeleton. “I always know what the future holds.”

As it stood, Sasha got lucky today. She wasn’t forced to make Jon use his dreaded phone, and as a result she wasn’t forced to understand what the fuck Jon did all day. He was in the Magnus Institute, and when Jon was in the Institute there were three places he could be.

The Archives, which Sasha had just come from. The Institute Library, occasionally terrifying the graduate students and more frequently helping them write their papers. Sasha had heard that they had communally begun sacrificing one grad student to his hunger per week in exchange for study sessions. Which...she should discourage...whatever, it was probably ethical. Or, at the very least, voluntary.

The only other location Jon visited was Magnus’ office, where he could spend hours relaxing on the evil little bastard’s couch and annoying him. That was a last resort scenario, and was usually saved for complete and total emergencies.

Thankfully, today, Sasha found Jon in the ‘D’s. He was lying on his back, legs propped up on the bookshelf across from him, reading what looked like a very fascinating philosophy text regarding humanity’s search for aliens that Sasha silently resolved to borrow from him later. He didn’t look up when Sasha approached, so she carefully tipped a book off the shelf above him to fall on his head.

He yelped, dropping his book and sitting upright. He rubbed at his head, scowling, and Sasha saw that he had restyled his hair since the last time she had seen him. It had been growing long, but instead of cutting it and returning to his short twists styled into a loose curtain over his forehead he had pulled it back into a puffy bun. It was...somewhat more fashion forward than Sasha had ever seen from him. He had swapped his greatcoat for a primmer and shorter pea coat. Even his glasses were now thin-rimmed, circular, and kind of stylish.

“Oh my god,” Sasha said, “has Martin started dressing you?”

“Martin can barely even dress himself,” Jon said automatically. “It was Georgie. She said I have to ‘clean up nice’ if I ever ‘want a man’. What does any of that mean?”

“Isn’t it kind of weird that your wife is setting you up with someone?”

“The concept of monogamy becomes ridiculous after the first eighty years,” Jon said, also automatically. Then Sasha’s words sunk into his brain, and he flushed. “Georgie and I aren’t together right now! And she’s not setting me up with - how can you even consider - what makes you think I’m a homosexual -”

Sasha stared at him flatly. Jon gave up.

“Just let me know if I need to explain gay shit to you,” Sasha said. “It’ll cost a hundred pounds for me to explain queerness and three hundred if you want to learn about trans issues. Recompense for my emotional labor.”

“Young people think they invented these things. It’s ridiculous.” Jon stored the book back on the bookshelf behind him without looking, before carefully dropping his feet and rolling up. Sasha’s back ached in sympathy. Some people got all of the demon deal luck. “What does Martin say? ‘People are gay, Steven’? Historical figures are gay and trans, Sasha.”

“...are you a historical figure that’s -”

“I apologize for being a cisgender man that’s ruined your life, yes.” Jon arched an eyebrow at her as Sasha spent a second in confused agony over whether or not she was getting through to this guy. “I assume there’s no emergency, considering this conversation, so why are you here?”

There was no way to make this offer sound genuine. Jon would look for the catch - because there was one - or what she was trying to pull. There was something she was trying to pull, but she wasn’t about to admit it.

In the end, Sasha settled for a fragment of honesty in her heart. Jon always had a way of drawing that out of people.

“I haven’t watched my telenovelas in years. And I don’t know anybody else who speaks Spanish, and so much of it doesn’t translate that I refuse to watch it subbed with someone else, and they’re something I used to watch every night but now I haven’t seen them in years. And you speak Spanish. So.”

Jon stared at her, blinking owlishly, before his mouth twitched into a small smile. It flowered, moving from a hesitant movement of the lips into a real, close-lipped smile that sent his usually severe and sharp expression into something resembling excitement. Understated enthusiasm over novelty.

How weird, Sasha thought. That you could be 200 years old and still find excitement over something novel. Over something new. Or, maybe, over someone choosing to trust you with a part of their lives.

Or maybe it wasn’t that weird. How could someone keep living for that long if something as simple as this didn’t bring you joy? Sasha was only thirty four and she already felt so tired of life, all the time. Either tired or overwhelmed. She wondered if Jon still felt overwhelmed.

“Sounds like fun,” Jon said. “Can I bring my notebook?”

“...yeah, sure.” Sasha paused, almost uncertain. “Hey. When you get to, like, two hundred -”

“Technically two hundred and twenty.”

“When you get to two hundred and twenty, do you finally feel like an adult?”

Jon stared at her, faintly surprised, before his expression settled into something a little wry. “Anybody who says that they ever feel like an adult is a liar. That’s how you know that Jonah’s full of shit.”

Somehow, it was almost a little reassuring.

First time she had ever said that about Jon.

********

Their adventures, of course, were quickly throttled by practicalities.

Sasha suggested just watching it on a laptop, but Jon’s expression had wrinkled in distaste. Jon suggested just watching it at her place, but Sasha liked to pretend that he didn’t know where she lived. Far too much intimacy, and somewhat hilariously Jon seemed very awkward about being alone with a woman in her flat. Also they were still working, technically.

Martin, overhearing their argument in the Archives as Sasha collected her laptop, suggested Jon’s place, since it was pretty nice and cozy and close to the Archives. This forbidden knowledge, the shining proof that sometimes a little knowledge could be a terrible and traumatizing thing, the sheer mental image that imprinted itself behind her eyelids, shook Sasha to her core.

“For christ’s sake,” Martin said, “we are not fucking.”

“Sounds like someone who’s fucking our boss would say!” Tim called, from his position asleep on the break room couch. Sasha had spent roughly five hours yesterday convincing him that her plan to manipulate Jon’s psychological weaknesses was the most effective defense against evil fear powers that they had, and since he had lost the argument he was now resentfully napping on the couch. “If I walk in on you doing it in the office over a desk I’m going to fucking kill both of you and then myself!”

“Does this place have an HR?” Melanie asked, from where she was sitting at her desk actually trying to work. “Can I report all of you to HR? Please?”

“Jon can hardly fire himself,” Sasha told her sympathetically. “This shit will all make sense if you accept the fact that -”

“God, I get it, enough with the workplace hazing!” Melanie threw up her hands, as Jon unsubtly whispered something in Martin’s ear that made him blush. “You can all drop it now, it was never funny!”

“If Sasha just let me prove it to you,” Jon said, exasperated, “then you can see -”

Simultaneously, all three of them snapped, “Do not!”, cowing Jon immensely.

Tim was no help in problem-solving, since he was resentful that Sasha was doing this at all. He had been spending almost all of his time lately throwing himself into research into the rituals, into anything that explained the strange and obscure rigor of this universe. Jon only explained as much to them as Jonah let him, and the most he ever did was mysteriously drop off boxes that held a lot of information about clowns and sawdust.

He always seemed a little surly as he did it. Sometimes he looked very guilty. Sasha noticed, every time. She couldn’t afford not to.

All Sasha could try to do for Tim was help him. Their relationship had already been fractured by the way they kept secrets from each other, and although they both wanted to repair it they were forced to confront the fact that now they had to tell each other things. Accept help. Sasha hated acknowledging that she couldn’t do everything by herself, and Tim hated putting Sasha in the danger he relentlessly and suicidally threw himself into, but neither of them would let the other continue on their self-destructive path.

It wasn’t sweet. But it was the most solid and tangible proof Sasha had that they loved each other. Maybe it was the most solid proof anybody could have: that, in life or death, they’d choose wherever you were.

If Sasha followed Tim into whatever dangerous shit he was getting himself into, then he would be more careful. Tim wouldn’t survive it if he lost her, and she knew it.

Between her and Tim, and Jon and Martin...why did all of their relationships feel like mutually assured destruction?

Eventually, Jon’s solution was, as usual, the worst one. Jon’s solution to every problem always worked, but it was always the one thing that nobody wanted to do and that everyone hated. But anything else was either vetoed or improbable, and Sasha refused to back out once she committed to something, so that was how Sasha stuffed a laptop and an HDMI cable into her bag to trail behind Jon as they rode the elevator up to the third floor.

The number three rule of the Archives was not relevant right now (let Sasha have two cups of coffee before bothering her about how terrible their lives were). But the number two rule of the Archives was this: don’t fuck with Rosie. They both gave her their brightest grins as they passed, impeccably polite without actually asking if Jonah was inside. Rosie smiled munificently at them and complemented Sasha on her heels. They were in. They were now breaking the number one rules of the Archives.

The number one rule of the Archives was, of course, this: never talk to Jonah Magnus unnecessarily.

On the bright side, from this perspective Sasha could see how Jon worked his magic - that is, how he always entered Jonah’s office through kicking the door open and infuriating the other man tremendously. He actually took the time to open the door a crack first, completely silently and almost imperceptibly, before crashing it open in as annoying a way as physically possible.

“I need your fucking office!” Jon called.

When Sasha poked her head in behind him, she was treated to the sight of a terrified employee cowering in the hard plastic chair in front of Jonah’s desk. Sasha was well aware how that chair could feel like an electric chair. Across from him, Jonah looked distinctly unamused, already kneading his brow.

“I’m in a meeting, Jon.”

“Good for you.” Jon pointed at the door, and the employee silently scurried out. “Not anymore. Now fuck off, I need your office.”

Impossibly, Jonah looked even more unamused. “Fucking your Archivist on my desk in the middle of the day is a bit beyond the pale even for you, Jon.”

Sasha was immediately so fucking disgusted that she switched into Spanish and called him a great deal of incredibly rude things for an incredibly long period of time.

Talking over her, Jon said, “Take out your resentment over 1899 on someone else. We want your television, we’re watching Sasha’s programmes.”

“Right. Like how you and that boy Martin are always watching programmes -”

“Me cago en tu puta madre--”

“Honestly, Jonah, just because you had all of those men over for revision of your manuscripts doesn’t mean everyone’s as euphemistic as you are. And Sasha, that’s remarkably vulgar.”

For the first time, Jonah looked alarmed. “What is she saying?”

“Sólo porque tienes un rabo chiquito -”

“Go learn Spanish.”

“Ms. James, this is a professional office, and -”

“Melanie’s fucking right, we need a fucking HR.” Now this was a matter of pride. Sasha flounced into the office, collapsing onto one of the dumb uncomfortable leather couches facing one of those screens that rich people had in their offices to show their powerpoint slides or whatever. “I’m going to Stare you to death if you don’t leave us alone to watch telly.”

Hilariously, Jonah looked at Jon, alarmed. “Can she do that?”

Jon opened his mouth, before Sasha shot him a look. “She’s progressing amazingly rapidly. At this point, not even I know what she’s capable of.”

What a wingman. Jonah looked faintly uncomfortable, but he went back to his computer anyway instead of doing the rational thing and getting out. “This grant is due in three days, Jon, and I have no time for your little fancies. Do what you will, but leave me out of it.”

Sasha was not thrilled at the prospect of Jonah fucking Magnus hanging out in the background while Sasha and Jon watched telenovelas. She’d be outnumbered by the evil fear demons, for one. But Sasha had a sneaking suspicion, and maybe if she couldn’t genuinely stop this guy’s evil plans she could annoy him to death.

At the very least, it would make her feel better. Sasha was beginning to recognize the value of anything that just made you fucking feel better. Maybe Tim was onto something with constantly being a giant bitch all the time.

“Ignore that cunt,” Sasha said in Spanish, catching Jon’s attention as she stood up to plug in the HDMI cable and turn on the television. “I got crisps and chocolate in my bag, I’m putting on Marimar.”

“Is she insulting me again?” Jonah asked. “Jon, what’s she saying?”

“I’m afraid I only consume trauma,” Jon said, also switching to Spanish. His accent was fucking bizarre. He sounded like her great uncle, or an even worse version of Sucedió en La Habana. At her boggled look, he elaborated, “The Witness gifted me with understanding of all languages very early in my development, but it bestowed verbal fluency in...1910? Perhaps? I’m afraid that without a little practice and frequent use I’m a little bit stuck there. I was able to beat my Chinese and Russian into sounding modern, but I’m afraid that people now tell me my Chinese is somewhat 1960s and my Russian is fairly 1980s.” He scowled. “Why does modernity change so much?”

“I think telenovelas can fix this for you,” Sasha decided. She paused a beat as Jon sat down beside her, a careful distance away. “The Witness? Is that a weird translation thing? You called it the Beholding last time.”

Jon shifted, a little guiltily. In English, he said, “The term Beholding’s better...it’s more academic, and more people use it…”

“What are you two -”

“Is ‘The Witness’ your word?” Sasha asked, and to her horror she found her tone almost gentle. It was almost easier, in her own words.

This time Jon truly looked uncomfortable, and he shifted back into Spanish - perhaps, Sasha thought, because Jonah could not understand it. “Smirke contributed all of the nomenclature for this, and he never...well, none of Jonah’s little circle liked me very much.”

“Wow, wonder why.”

“Exoticism only gets you so far, I suppose,” Jon joked weakly, before sharply swerving the subject. “I always felt as if it gave me its own name. When I began to understand, really understand what it was and how we could feed each other...I felt as if it told me. And that’s what it told me. So it’s always been my name.”

Hm. Sasha wondered what it was like, to have your religion be - so tangible, so grounded. Sasha believed, and she had faith with all of her heart, but - well, you wouldn’t need faith if you had incontestable proof. Faith was about believing because you knew something in your heart. But Jon...when he had nothing else, maybe, he had this.

“I just put down ‘James’ because I thought it would make that small-dicked asshole more likely to hire me,” Sasha finally offered, her only equivalent for something like this. “Tell you what. Call me James Martinez, and I’ll curse the name of the Witness, okay? If you’d like me to.”

Jon brightened, and for a second Sasha saw her own faith in his brilliant green eyes. “My gift is shared with you, Sasha. Of course you can.”

It was not a gift. It was a terrible and disgusting curse, and it was one that Jon had inflicted upon her. But Sasha was playing nice...and this was knowledge, understanding Jon was knowledge that could save her life one day...and there was something strange about Jon’s hesitant and multi-barbed trust.

It had to be the trust of somebody who had it betrayed a hundred, thousand times. But he gave it so easily, and he reached out incessantly. Sasha knew lots of people who cared too much, although she had never been one of them - Tim and Martin, for one - but she could already see how it was making them a little bitter and jaded.

Jon wasn’t. Sasha didn’t know why.

So Sasha kicked off her heels, tucking her legs underneath her as she pulled up her favorite episode of Marimar on her laptop. It was a comfort show, having context wouldn’t help, she had rights.

“Okay,” Sasha began, a little aggressively, “we’re starting a lot of the way in, so I have to catch you up. Like a lot of telenovela protagonists, Marimar is a wholesome young girl who lives in a little sad hut shack on the beach and she can’t read. She’s raised by her grandparents and her dog talks. This is the essential premise of the show.”

“Wow,” Jon whispered, “just like me.”

“I - okay, you are not obligated to give me your backstory, but what?”

“Martin keeps calling me a ‘sad little Victorian orphan’,” Jon said defensively. “And dogs talk to me too!”

“...what do they say?”

“If you’d believe it, nothing interesting.” He paused a beat. “But Georgie’s cat is kind of a psychopath, if that helps.”

“That’s a stereotype against cats,” Sasha accused. “Just because humans don’t understand cat body language -”

“Oh, no, cats are lovely, my favorite animal. But the Admiral’s kind of a freak.”

“If you two are going to sit here and trash talk me in my own office,” Jonah said, aggravated, “then please at least take it outside.”

Actually, this was a great idea.

Sasha ran through the plot of Marimar, down to the love interest with the terrible chest hair (Jon and Sasha then got into an argument over chest hair that was so heated that Sasha suspected Martin had chest hair), the evil step-mother (they both agreed that women in soaps tended to fall within the madonna/whore complex), and the weird amounts of humiliation. Sasha loved to hate Mr. Douchey McChesthair in this one - he wooed Marimar and promised to raise her up from poverty, but he ended up ditching her when she wasn’t refined enough for him. She wins him back at the end with her nice dresses and inherited money, and they settle down with a baby and a big house. Sasha always hated the ending. Marimar should have become a career woman.

“It’s massively cheesy,” Sasha warned, finally playing the episode and letting the cheery theme song play, “so don’t sit here and point out the logical inconsistencies. We know. It’s part of the experience.”

But Jon just arched an eyebrow, unbuttoning his own pea cot to throw over the back of the sofa and lounge in his seat. “Watching telenovelas, in the office of the Director of the facility where you work, with his boss, in London, is the experience? And we’re all - how do you put it - evil fear demons?”

“You haven’t met my auntie,” Sasha said darkly. But she ended up shaking her head too, picking at her stockings a little. “The experience is...eleven pm, and the whole house is dark. The kitchen light is on, this flickering yellow thing that pops and buzzes. There’s cicadas outside, and somewhere you can hear someone playing music too loudly. Dad’s in his ripped up armchair, snoring. Mom’s on the couch, reading a magazine. They’re only half-paying attention, but it’s late, and you feel like you never get enough time with them. So you sit on the couch next to Mom, and because neither of them say anything you watch the show with all of your attention, just happy to be near them...it’s family bonding, you think. It feels like it.”

Jon was silent, staring at her. Not fixedly, or intensely - just looking, as if he was waiting patiently to see if she would say anything else. But Sasha trailed off, picking at her stockings, until she forced herself to stop. She didn’t want to say anything else. She was worried that he would know what she wasn’t saying. He always did.

“My grandmother couldn’t read,” Jon said finally, and Sasha fought the surprise. Jon never talked about this, not in any specific words. “But she would darn clothing by the fire at night. She did it for the neighborhood and earned some extra money.”

“What about you?” Sasha asked, hoping it was a safe topic. “What did you do?”

Jon grinned at her, sharp and amused. “I got into trouble.”

They both turned their attention back to the television, and Sasha silently mouthed the words along with the screen as Jon paid rapt attention.

It was later in the show, when Marimar was showing up all of the people who did her dirty when she was poor. She had a fine dress, lingering on the arm of her rich and kind of creepy father, and she walked around with her head held up high. Her old husband who treated her terribly saw her at the opera and he was stunned by how hot and cool she was now.

“Good for her!” Jon said abruptly. “Go find someone better, Marimar!”

“Oh my god,” Sasha groaned. “She ends up with him!”

“What!”

Quicker than Sasha would ever have expected, Jon got wrapped up in the episode. He gasped with her at the right parts, cheered at the screen whenever Marimar said something particularly sassy, and they booed whenever Douchey McChesthair showed up.

When Sasha glanced behind her - not that she did - she saw Jonah fixedly ignoring them. He was gritting his teeth a little. Every so often he would glance at the screen, obviously look terribly confused, then go back to his computer.

When the credits rolled Jon declared this second-hand trauma, which terrified Sasha deeply but raised interesting questions about her own future diet.

“It’s about the humiliation, fear, and voyeurism,” Jon told her. “Supernatural trauma and devastation tastes rather similar to these telenovelas.”

“...what do they taste like?”

Jon thought hard. “Taste, but if it was a feeling.”

“...what’s the -”

“What’s the feeling you have?”

Sasha was forced to concede the point, and put on another episode.

In this one, Marimar’s new dad tied tragically, and she very cunningly has him sign all of his money over to her. Sasha cheered her on very enthusiastically, and Jon agreed that Marimar was the definition of girlboss, but he found it kind of a dick move.

“I thought you hated pretentious, old money rich white Britons,” Sasha accused. She knew that Martin had been working on him and trying to convert him to socialism,, but it was slow going.

“I do hate entitled, old money people,” Jon said shortly. “But it’s hardly illegal to work your way up the social ladder and improve your station in life. Marimar isn’t putting the work in, she’s just inheriting all of this blood money. If she doesn’t make something of her life then what’s the point in all of that suffering?”

“You do know how social mobility is a lie fed to the lower class by the upper class to keep them complacently participating in the system, right?”

“I’m not saying many people do it,” Jon said, ignoring Marimar’s grotesquely fake sobbing, “but it’s possible. I’ve met plenty of people who worked hard and became successful.”

“Yeah, and those people were lucky. Most of us just sit around in poverty and suffer.” Sasha rolled her eyes, unwrapping her chocolate bar. “Not all of us can be Dr. Faust.”

“You didn’t sit around,” Jon said, turning to face her. Sasha didn’t meet his eyes, focusing on her chocolate instead. “You were smart, you worked your way up, you got your scholarship, and now you’re part of something far greater than yourself. You took what happened to you and you used to make you stronger, just like I did. Anybody can do it if they work hard enough.”

Sasha’s teeth clamped down on the chocolate.

Abruptly, stupidly, she got angry.

“I’m not better than the thousands of other trans women who got kicked out, Jon,” Sasha snapped, but Jon didn’t flinch. “I’m just luckier! I know I worked hard, but I’m not more - more worthy of what I have than the brave women back home who have nothing. And I’m not going to stomp on them to make myself feel better like you do!”

“I do not -” Jon started, outraged, but Sasha cut him off.

“You tell yourself that you worked hard for the security, money, education that you never got as a child! But you deserved all of that! That’s shit that anybody who lives deserves. But because you think of it as some kind of stupid reward, then it’s something that can be taken away. And when what you have can be taken away at any moment, then you have nothing!”

She cut herself off abruptly, unwilling and incapable of saying anything more. There were lines you couldn’t cross with Jon, and lines that she didn’t deserve to cross no matter how callous he was. She couldn’t accuse him of forgetting where he came from, or of betraying his people. Sasha knew well that Jon had never forgotten, not for a second.

He had just - twisted everything around. He had to justify to himself what he’d done, so he’d taken the truth and molded it to fit his own desires and call it holy.

It had killed her. It had killed her, how Jon told her that they were the same, but he did all of this shit to her anyway. But maybe that was no surprise: Jon hadn’t done anything to her that he hadn’t done to everybody else, and he hadn’t made any justifications to himself about his behavior towards her that he hadn’t made about everybody else.

You couldn’t live like he did with emotional honesty. Good people could do bad things - Sasha knew that better than anyone - but it required a truly disgusting level of willful blindness and cowardice that Sasha had never tolerated.

“Nobody gave me being a woman,” Sasha whispered, too full of - something, to even look at Jon. “I didn’t take it from anyone. I didn’t steal it. It was something that I always deserved, and that I always was. And because of that, nobody will ever take it away from me.” She exhaled heavily, forcing herself to stop shaking. “Nobody can make me something I’m not. Not even you.”

Jon stared at her, toxic green eyes wide and something foreign in his expression. It looked almost as if he believed her. Ha. “Sasha, I -”

“I swear, it’s like you two are making an effort to be as intrusive as possible. Jon, can’t you control your own Archivist?”

Jon almost jumped, as if he had forgotten that Jonah was in the room at all. Something in his chest seized closer, and a year ago Sasha would have just called it a twitch.

It wasn’t. It was an aborted, concealed cringe, seen only once before. But there was only one other person in this world who cared about that.

“Jonah!” Jon said, switching back to English immediately. “Sorry, we were just - having a really heated discussion about - uh, about -”

“Brujeria and how it changed when adopted by members of the Catholic church,” Sasha said smoothly. “I think his weird compulsion thing is just advanced witchcraft.”

“Yes! Yes, of course - you remember, I took inspiration from p - pagan rituals, you know, for our early work. I think you called it -”

“Bizarre?” Jonah asked, arching an eyebrow. “Jon, there were bones involved.” Jon silently pointed at the human skull taking up proud residence in Jonah’s cabinet of curiosities. “That’s different, a friend gave me that.”

“ ‘Have you seen Barnabas lately, Jonah’, I said. ‘He hasn’t seemed to have written lately’, I said. ‘Have you grown distant?’, I said. And you said -”

“Yes, he was very distant,” Jonah said dryly. “You hardly complained. You hated the man.”

“I hated all of your friends,” Jon said. He was smiling, once again relaxed with his arm spread over the back of the couch. Sasha furiously bit into a chip. “Didn’t mean you let them die.”

“Yes, but he was your least favorite, so I figured there was no harm done there.”

Improbably, Jon brightened. He smiled again, a curved slash of the mouth that had always been reserved for Jonah. It always spoke of secrets, a private joke. “You do care.”

“I’ll care more if you stop chattering when I’m trying to get us funded for another cycle.”

“Whatever.” Jon turned to face the screen again, letting the smile fall into a curiously blank expression. “Next episode, Sasha?”

“Sure,” Sasha said slowly. “But it only gets worse from here.”

It would never stop being weird how - well, maybe that was no wonder. How could Sasha begin to understand a relationship as strange and esoteric as theirs? Two hundred years in the making, forged by cruelty and passion? Two lives, intertwined so closely they fed in a parasitic loop, starving the other to feed themselves?

“Oh, I don’t mind a little tragedy,” Jon said. He spoke in English, vowels carefully rounded, posh accent meticulously stretching his words. “It’s the most entertaining.”

Sasha thought about print-outs. She thought about a many-eyed, malicious tumor of fear and pain consuming humanity alive. She thought about the face of God, and the tired and resigned face of Martin. When Sasha spoke, she stayed in Spanish.

“Even though she gets married to Mr. Douchey McChestHair at the end?”

“I’m sure he’s not all bad,” Jon said, and wouldn’t say anything more.

#my writing #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #sasha james #timothy stoker #jonah magnus #elias bouchard #tma #the magnus archives #tma fanfic #the magnus archives fanfiction #everything said about marimar is real #however inauthentic because I ended up using the funny or die recap #me: i am not writing any more hr #my friends: but what if you did?#been seeing so many weird takes about abusive friendships lately i feel the need to very pointedly ask the question #what is the nature of the power dynamic between jon and jonah?

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jawritter · 4 years ago

Text

I Hurt Too

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Warnings: Implied smut, domestic violence? Angry Dean, Hurt!Dean, Jealous!Dean, Language, hurt feelings, angst, some fluff. Multiple view points.

Word Count: 6136

Request: hi there! I have seen loads of fics and one shots where Dean is sleeping around/having a one night stand and the reader gets jealous and upset, but I was wondering if I could request one with the other way around? or maybe one where they sleep around equally? as smutty, fluffy, or angst as you want!!

A/N: This fic is beta’d by the lovely @deanwanddamons! Thanks so much hun! As always please do not copy my work! Feedback is golden! I hope you all enjoy this one!

Want More? Check out my Masterlist!!

***MASTERLIST***

Dean’s POV:

The concert floor of the bunker was cold under Dean’s feet as he swung his legs off of the bed, and placed his feet gingerly on the floor. He was being very mindful of the injury to his knees that he got during the last hunt. It protested with every movement, and being in his forties now, it seemed he didn’t heal up as quickly as he used to.

Standing with a deep growl, Dean stretched the muscles that protested against his movements, his eyes wandering over the empty liquor bottle that was sitting on his nightstand. He let out a long sigh, and picked up the bottle, throwing it in the trash can by the door as he hobbled his way out of his room, and towards the kitchen in search of coffee.

Dean’s feet dragging along the empty hallways of the Bunker seemed to echo more than they usually did in the morning. Sammy had either still been asleep, as it was really, really early; or he was already on his run. Y/N must have still been out with a conquest from the night before, because he’d been up most of the night, and she still hadn’t made it home by the time he finally drank enough to pass out, and ignore the throbbing pain in his knee.

As he made his way closer to her room, he couldn’t stop himself from pushing the door open just a little, and peeking inside to see if she’d actually came home, or if she was still out with whatever bar room wonder she let take her home last night that wasn’t him.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw her body covered up in the pile of covers that she always kept on her bed. Her back was to the door, and the easy rise and fall of the covers told him she was still fast asleep, so he shut the door quietly behind him, and continued his way towards the kitchen.

Normally he would have been right there with her at the bar last night. It had been a successful hunt, other than his busted knee, and that was due to his own clumsiness, and nothing really to do with a monster. He knew the stairs were rotten, and that he should have been taking them slower than he was, but Sammy was out running him, and that looked bad. He didn’t want to look weak in front of Y/N, so he rushed up the stairs, and as he got to the middle of the old rotten staircase, it had given way under his weight, sending his leg through the wood, and pulling his knee pretty good.

His adrenaline was high at the time, chasing the Werewolf through the old abandoned house, so he hadn’t really paid the injury much attention. He just jerked it out of the hole he’d fallen through, and continued his chase. Ultimately, Sam had successfully killed the Werewolf before he got there.

Three hours into the drive back to the Bunker though, he felt it, and by the time he’d gotten home and put Baby in park, he could hardly put any weight on it.

Y/N fussed over him as he hobbled his way to his room, but Dean wanted nothing more than to get his jeans off, and put on a pair of loose sweats. Again, he refused to show how hurt he actually was in an attempt not to look weak, even though she could clearly see him limping.

She’d offered to stay back at the Bunker last night, and binge watch Dr. Sexy with him instead of going out to the local watering hole, but Dean had told her to go ahead and go. He didn’t want to hold her back from having a good time by making her stay here with him.

After about an hour of bickering, she had agreed to let him stay behind, and she went out on her own.

He wanted to just get drunk, and pass out, but his mind wouldn’t let him do that right away, and getting drunk enough to black out wasn’t as easy as it used to be for him. So instead, he lay there alone in his dark room, picturing things he wished he wasn’t.

Some strangers hands on the body he wanted more than anything to hold against his. Some random sinking into her in a way that he wished only he was allowed to do. His mouth on hers as their bodies moved together.

Would she moan for him? Would he be able to give her what she needed? Would he hold her when it was all over, the way Dean wanted so badly to do, but was never able to shove down his own stubbornness, and tell her how he felt. Instead, he justified his actions by saying, “she’s safer not knowing how I feel,” or “they can’t hurt because of me, if no one knows,” but deep down he felt like his heart was being ripped out every time he saw her on someone else’s arm.

Dean poured his coffee, and sat down at the table in the kitchen with a huff, running his fingers through his hair, and pulling the short strands hard enough to feel the sting in an attempt to pull the images that were threatening to invade his mind out before they could hurt him further. The only thing he knew to do at this point in order to save his sanity was to push her away. Maybe if he did that, then it wouldn’t hurt so bad.

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Your POV: Two weeks later

You dry your hair roughly before throwing the towel into the hamper by the door, and pull it into a messy bun as you make your way towards the kitchen in search of coffee. It was early, and Dean wouldn’t be up for probably another hour. You were sure Sam was out on his morning run, and he had mentioned something last night about going on a supply run before the next case.

You’d all been working non stop for weeks. Local cases. Things that normally would be overlooked, but Dean was insistent on staying busy. You didn’t know why, but Dean had been acting really strange since he’d hurt his knee on that hunt in Wichita Falls.

It had started when he’d refused to speak to you all day the next day. Then it progressively got worse, and now he walked around acting like you didn’t exist, going as far as to hand Sam his rabbit food last night, but not even handing you your burger, just getting his food out of the bag, then throwing it on the table for you to find for yourself.

He wasn’t even communicating with you during hunts, which made things that much more difficult and dangerous. When you finally got back to the Bunker this morning, you were well planning to go blow off some steam, and get away from this new Dean that you were learning you didn’t like so much.

At first it had really hurt that Dean had started to treat you so badly. You had always liked Dean more than just a “big brother” or friend, the way you saw Sam. The two of you were close at one time.

You didn’t know what had caused the switch. You’d gone over and over it in your head, but you couldn't figure out what you had done to him in order to turn him against you. There wasn’t a chance in hell you’d get him to actually tell you what you had done wrong. So you thought at first it would pass, not get worse.

Making your way over to your dresser you pull out a simple black tank top, and a short denim skirt. It wasn’t like you were planning to ‘keep them on all night’, you just wanted them to catch the attention you needed in order to get what you desired tonight, and they had never failed you yet.

Before you could even turn around to grab your hair brush off the desk in your room, you hear a curse, and a fumbling noise behind you before your door closes. Furrowing your brow in confusion, you walk over to the door, and open it, seeing Dean’s back retreating to his room, before his door slams with enough force to knock dust down from the ceiling.

Looking down at your feet you see a busted whiskey glass, and a good amount of amber liquid still on the floor. Your eyes evert back to the door that Dean had just disappeared behind, and then down to the mess..

You must have left the door open when you had come into the room, but why would Dean be so upset if he saw you about to get ready to go out? Hell, he does it as much as you. The whole motel knew his name was Dean Fucking Winchester thanks to the whore he’d brought back last night, and her impressive vocal range.

Grabbing the discarded towel you’d just used to dry your hair, you clean up the mess caused by the spilled liquor, your mind still wondering just what you had done so fucking wrong.

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Four hours later you tried to close the heavy door to the Bunker as quietly as you could as you snuck back inside. Sure, it was past midnight, but you also knew that Dean could be somewhat of a night owl, and you really didn’t want to have a run in with him coming home from yet another one night stand. Especially after whatever the fuck happened outside your bedroom door before you left tonight.

You had wanted to confront him, ask him if something was wrong, but the way he’d been treating you kept you at bay and you just decided to go on about your business, and leave Dean to whatever brooding he was doing.

The Bunker was dark, all but the kitchen light that seemed to stay on all the time, and a weak light that illuminated from the map table in the war room as you descended the stairs. You spilled your shoes off at the top of the iron staircase in order to make your footsteps lighter as you went.

You didn’t see the man sitting at the table in the dark library until he spoke just as you made your way to the mouth of the hallway, and when you heard his voice you nearly had a mini heart attack.

“You’re home early,” Dean said, flipping the lamp on, revealing himself in the back corner of the library.

“Fuck Dean! You scared the shit out of me,” you hissed, turning on your heels to face him fully.

Dean rose from his seat and staggered a little, grabbing the table for support as he swayed slightly on his feet. You had only seen Dean that drunk once. It was the night he’d been cured from being a Demon. After Sam had gone to bed, the two you stayed up all night long drinking because you were too afraid to leave him alone. It was close to five in the morning before he’d finally passed out.

“Sorry,” he mumbled as he made his way closer to you, using the tables as support.

“Dean, you need to go sleep that off,” you tell him, taking a tentative step closer to him. You didn’t know what was bothering Dean exactly, but whatever it was it must be big for him to let himself go this way.

“Fuck you.You don’t get to tell me what to do. I didn’t tell you not to go fuck that loser bartender again tonight did I? Fuck no, but you whored yourself up, and marched that perky little ass of your right into his car to do God knows what. I never knew you were so fucking easy Y/N.”

His words cut deep. Dean had never spoken to you like that, and the fact that the first thing he’d said to you in days was an insult was a huge kick in the gut. Taking a step back from him, you turn to head towards your room. You hadn’t gotten very far before Dean caught up with you, grabbing your arm and spinning you around, pressing your back against the wall harshly.

“I wasn’t fucking done with you,” Dean snarled, and you slapped him hard across the face. Tears burned in your eyes at his hurtful behavior not only tonight, but over the last two weeks .

“What’s your fucking problem Dean? What have I done to you that’s offended you so much? For weeks now you’ve been a douche to me, and I have no idea what I’ve done to you!” you yell at him, all thoughts of not waking up Sam gone right out of the window.

“What’s my fucking problem? Maybe it’s you. Spreading your legs for every Tom, Dick, and Harry that pays you a little attention,” Dean said, coming closer to you and shoving you backwards, his words getting louder and louder with each step he took.

Sam burst out of his bedroom door as soon as he heard the two of you, jumping in between you and Dean to stop his brother, who was so mad that he was honestly frightening.

“What the fuck is the problem!” Sam bellowed at the two of you.

“She’s the fucking problem,” Dean said, pointing an unsteady finger at you accusingly. “She thinks it’s okay to jump in bed with every fucking ass hole in Lebanon after every fucking hunt like she’s getting fucking paid for it!”

“Fuck you Winchester! You do the same fucking shit! You have no room to judge me for what I do with my free time because I sure as fuck haven’t judged you!” you scream at him, tears slipping down your face and a heaviness pooling deep in your chest.

“Excuse me? I’ve been with one woman in months compared to your six fucking men in a month!” Dean said, trying to sidestep his brother, but Sam’s long arms shot out and stopped him before he could move towards you. “Do you not care that one night one of these assholes can knock you up? Kill you, before you can get away from them? Hunting monsters, and fighting off perverts are two different fucking things Y/N!”

“Don’t act like you're all concerned about me Dean! Nice fucking double standards. You think because I’m a woman that I can’t handle myself, and that I’m a whore for doing the same exact shit you do!”

“GET THE FUCK OUT!” he roared, making even Sam jump as he tried to hold his brother back. Dean’s face was red, his glossy eyes wide and dilated with anger. You had never seen Dean so angry, and you even took a hurried step back, stumbling into the library as Dean shoved Sam to the side and marched towards you. “GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE BUNKER! IF YOU CARE SO FUCKING LITTLE ABOUT YOURSELF, THEN YOU CAN GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME, BECAUSE I CAN’T WATCH YOU FALL IN BED WITH ONE MORE ASS HOLE!!!”

“DEAN!” Sam yelled, crossing the floor and grabbing his arm as you sank into the chair behind you hiccuping a sob as Dean towered over you.

Sam reached out and grabbed Dean, throwing him against the wall with a hard shove. “Get your ass to your room, and sleep it off! Now! Y/N, you stay right the fuck there!” Sam said as he shoved the very livid eldest Winchester towards his room, making sure he was in there before coming back to find you still sitting in the same seat, to shocked and heartbroken to move.

You wrapped your arms tighter around yourself as if it could hold you together, when all you wanted to do was fall apart. You never thought Dean would talk to you that way. Sure, he’d been pushing you away and being an ass for the last couple of weeks, but you never dreamed that he hated you. You never knew that he thought you no better than a whore. Now you had lost the only home you’d ever known since your Uncle Bobby had passed away.

You were shaking slightly when Sam pulled up a chair across from you, and sat down with a flop.

“Are you okay?” Sam asked, reaching out and placing a large hand over your knee. You flinch at the contact. Only God knows what the hell Dean would do if he came in here and saw that.

“Not really Sam, I’ll get my shit packed,” you said, attempting to stand up, but Sam's hand coming down heavy on your shoulder stopped you.

“No you're not. He’s just druck, and jealous, Y/N. When he sobers up in the morning he’s going to feel horrible about the way he treated you tonight…”

“How the fuck can you know that Sam, he seemed pretty sure. Hell, a drunk man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts right? He seemed pretty sure in his decision, and I doubt he will regret a word of it. Besides, that did not sound ‘jealous’ to me one bit. He sounded disgusted, and angry,” you cut in. stopping Sam from defending Dean again.

“Y/N, I know my brother better than he knows himself most of the time. He’s not angry. He’s hurting, and he’s jealous. He’s been crazy about you from the moment you moved in here, and you won't even give him the time of day.”

You scoffed at Sam, rolling your eyes as you wiped the tears from your face harshly. Your heart felt like it just wanted to stop beating, and you really didn’t feel like being led on by Sam, and given false hope that Dean had feelings for you at all that weren’t discussed just so you would stay.

“Sam, your brother does not like me. Period. How could he be jealous, or hurt, just because I do the same thing I’ve seen him do for years.”

Sam ran his hands through his hair and let out a long sigh.

“You really don’t see it do you? Think about it Y/N, other than that one blonde a week ago, when was the last time you saw him take a girl home? That was the first one since you moved in almost four months ago.”

You search your brain, trying to remember. You hadn’t been paying that much attention. You thought because of all he’d been through he was just going through a dry spell, and when you heard him and that girl, you assumed he was getting back to his usual self.

Sure, you hated to see Dean with other women, but you weren’t dumb enough to ever think that you would even be on his radar.

“The only reason he brought that girl back to the hotel was because he got upset when he saw you with that bouncer who was about 10 years younger than him. It hurt his ego. He’d been buying you drinks all night, he’d even paid for a separate hotel room separate because he thought, just maybe you’d see how much he was into you, and go home with him.”

You look at Sam, your head full of doubt. Dean’s words were still ringing loudly in your head, and you wanted nothing more than to get away from here so that you could cry it out.

“Just let him sober up. If things are still tense in the morning, then you can take off to Jody’s for a few days. I know she wouldn’t mind, but if you are gone when he sobers up, and remembers what the fuck he did to you it’s gonna crush him.”

You let out a deep breath as you looked around the still dark Bunker with a heavy feeling in your chest. Your body started to feel exhausted as the adrenaline from your fight with Dean started to wane. You knew it was late, and if you left right now you’d never even make it to a hotel room. You were just that tired. You weren’t in the right mindset to drive, so you nodded your head in agreement. Walking to your room with your feet dragging, you fell face down your bed, and let the tears flow freely as your heart shattered into a thousand pieces. Dean’s voice still louder than Sam’s in your head.

You had been in love with him since you were 16 years old.You even patterned your life after his. He was your hero. The man all girls dreamed about, and he hated you, and it was all your fault.

You were so upset that you didn’t hear Dean sobbing into his pillow in his room as you passed to head to yours, or see Sam go and sit outside of his brother’s door with his back to it, listening to his older brother, his rock, his best friend fall apart, all because he was too stubborn, and too hurt to tell the woman he was so deeply in love with just how he felt.

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Dean’s POV:

Dean rolled around in his bed with a groan, taking a deep breath through his nose in an effort to stave off the wave of nausea that seemed to hit him as soon as he woke up this morning. He could still taste the liquor, and the scent of it seemed to be seeping out of his every pore, making his weak stomach churn in protest.

He struggled to remember the last time he’d gotten that drunk, and honestly it was all a bit foggy. It made his head hurt, so he stopped thinking, and pulled himself sluggishly to his feet.stopping for only a moment to lean against his door.

Physically he felt like shit, but emotionally he was a wreck, worse than he’d been even with his mom had died, worse than he’d been when he lost John. His actions last night played over and over in front of his face like a broken record, and he didn’t want to face that fact that he’d run you out, and hurt you. The look on your face was stuck in his mind. Tears streaming down your face, complete with utter terror of what he might do to you.

He didn’t realize what he was doing until Sam locked him in his room. It was like he was acting on autopilot and he couldn’t stop. All the bottled up emotions came rolling to the surface, and he never thought he’d snap like that. He’d never forgive himself.

Stumbling to the small sink in his room, he looked at himself in the mirror for the first time in days. His eyes were puffy and red with dark circles. His complexion was paler than he’d ever seen it, even when he had the mark. His cheeks even looked a little sunk in. Had he lost weight? He couldn’t remember the last time he’d eaten . He’d been too busy drinking.

Dean splashed his face with water, rubbing harshly as if he could wipe away what he’d done, even though he knew he never could. When he could stand up without holding onto something, he made his way slowly towards the kitchen, hoping if he could eat something and keep it down then the sick feeling would go away and he could figure out what he needed to do to fix what he’d broken. If he couldn’t fix it, well then it was time to check out, because he couldn’t live knowing he’d hurt you.

He was thinking a big game there, cause he knew he’d never be able to leave Sammy behind, but the hurt was that deep, and he’d be lying if he said he knew how to deal with this in a healthy way, and there was always the possibility that he drank himself to death. He was pretty sure he was on his way to doing just that.

As soon as his feet hit the kitchen floor, and he looked up he saw you and Sam sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee in your hands. For just a moment no one spoke, and no one moved. You wouldn’t even look him in the eye this morning, instead becoming very interested in your coffee cup.

Dean mumbled something that was meant to sound like ‘sorry’, but came out as just an incoherent noise as he turned on his heels to head back to his room, and give you space. The relief he felt that you were still here somehow diminished as soon as he saw the hurt look on your face.

“Dean, wait up a second,” Sam said, standing up from the table, and making his way towards Dean who even though he’d stopped in the hallway, he’d been unable to turn around and face you again.

“Come on Dean, we all need to have a talk about…”

“We don’t need to talk about shit Sam! I was a fucking asshole, and now Y/N can’t even look me in the eye! What is there left to talk about? This is my fucking fault!”

Sam had no argument there, and he knew it, so Dean shrugged away from his brother’s hand that was resting on his shoulder, and made his way to his room to start drinking again, because that’s all he seemed to be able to do right anymore.

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Your POV:

It was all you could do to stand rooted to the floor as you watched Dean stumble back down the hallway towards his room. You’d cried so much last night and this morning that you had nothing else left in you to cry. You didn’t think your heart could break more than it already was, but here you were, trying to catch your breath as Dean disappeared into his room, slamming the door behind him.

Sam turned to you, and let out a long sigh,shrugging and shaking his head before finally making eye contact with you.

“I can’t do this. The two of you are gonna have to work this out for yourselves. I know what he did last night was hurtful, and borderline abusive, but if you can’t see he’s hurting then you're blind. I can’t make you talk to him, but I can tell you that if you let this fester then it’s just gonna get worse and worse. Dean thrives on self loathing. You know it’s not just something he can forget. He’s gonna torture himself until there is nothing left.”

Sam brushed past you and into the kitchen without even giving you a chance to make your argument. Which at this point there was really no argument to make. You saw it yourself first hand just now. Dean looked terrible, and not just hung over. He’d cried so much that his eyes were almost swollen shut, and you had only seen Dean cry a handful of times.

You stood there for a long time staring in the direction of Dean's room before your feet finally started to move. With every step you took towards his door, your hands were starting to shake, and your stomach twisted nervously.

There were several ways this could go. He could either slam the door in your face, ask you to leave, ignore you, or attack you. After last night you weren’t so sure about the last one, but he was sober this time. Hopefully that was just a drunken mistake meant to scare you, and that's all.

When you reached his door, you took a shaky breath already regretting the decision to talk to Dean, and you hadn’t even knocked on the door yet.

You hadn’t realized how much you cared about Dean until what happened between you last night. It was always just something you shoved down, and refused to acknowledge. Now it was all you could see. You had been in love with him from the moment he’d popped out of the backseat of what at the time was John Winchester’s Impala when you 16 years old.

You reached up to knock on the door, but before your hand could even make contact with it you heard the distinct sound of glass shattering. Panic twisted in your gut, overriding the nerves, and you shoved the door open to Dean’s room, your hunter instincts screaming something was horribly wrong, and you had to get to Dean.

When you saw him he was standing at the sink, surrounded by glass, watching the blood drip from his still clenched fist. His jaw was set in a hard line, and his eyes were distant as if he didn’t even really feel it.

“Dean,” you breathed out, and he turned to you slowly, looking at you, then down at the mess on the floor as well as his hand.

“Y/N, I… I’m sorry. I…” Dean bent down in an attempt to pick up the shattered glass , but you made your way over to him and stopped him, gently grabbing his hand and looking at the heavily bleeding wound. He didn’t stop you, just stood there with his eyes searching your face.

“Come on, let’s get you cleaned up. I’ll text Sam, and he can clean up the glass while I stitch up your hand and get this glass out of your knuckles.”

He didn’t fight you as you led him to the infirmary, and sat him down in one of the chairs. He never even flinched as you took tweezers to his knuckles to pull out the glass, or when you sterilized the wound before stitching up the large cut on the back of his hand. His eyes stayed on your face as you worked, and you could feel him watching you, but you had to concentrate on his hand in order to not hurt him further as you wrapped it carefully.

When you went to stand up to put away the medical supplies, Dean caught your hand with his good one, stopping you in your tracks as he stood to his feet in front of you.

His movements were slow. Like if he moved too fast he’d scare you. For some reason, even though a normal person would have been terrified after his behavior last night, you weren’t even remotely afraid of him.

You’d faced evil. You’d face monsters. He was none of that.

“Y/N, I know it probably doesn’t mean anything after the way I treated you last night, but I’m sorry. I let my emotions get in the way. I was drunk. I don’t know why I pushed you, but I should have never laid a hand on you. I just… It hurt so much knowing you were out with another guy like always, and that I would never be good enough for you, and… I’m sorry. I’ll mind my own business from now on.”

Dean turned to leave, but you grabbed his uninjured hand, stopping him in his tracks.

“Dean, stop running from me. You don’t get to say something like that, and then walk away, and go hide, or drink yourself to death! Who the fuck said you weren’t good enough for me? Cause that’s bullshit! Dean, if any one of us isn’t good enough it’s me! You’re a fucking hero! I’m just another hunter riding off the Winchesters. I probably should have left a long time ago. I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were even remotely interested in me. If I’d have known I would have never gone out with any of those other losers.”

Dean froze on the spot, his green eyes piercing your own like they could see into your soul. You knew Dean, you’d known Dean for years, and you knew if anyone was going to move first it had to be you. There was a time before he’d gone to Hell, become a fucking knight of hell, spent time in purgitory, and had person after person ripped away from him that he would have made the first move, but Dean was different. That cocky Winchester that strutted into Bobby’s house all those years ago for the first time, flirting with everyone that claimed to be a woman, died a long time ago, and you knew this was your only opportunity. If you fucked this up, there would be no other chance with him.

In a bold move that you were pretty sure if you had to do it twice you’d never have made it, you close the distance between the two of you, your lips meeting his as you stand on your tiptoes to reach him. At first he stood there in a state of shock. It didn’t take him long to slip his good arm around you, pulling you closer to him, and deepening the kiss.

When the two of you finally broke away, you grabbed Dean by the hand and led him to your room. You text Sam when you got there, and asked him if he could clean up the glass in Dean’s room, letting him know you have him taken care of before slipping you both inside, and locking the door.

Dean guided the two of you over to the bed, and you both moved under the covers in the dark room. The only light is the dim light that's shining on your bedside table from the old lamp.

Sliding closer to him, you let Dean slip his arms around you before his lips find yours again in a kiss that almost feels scared. You brush your hands through his tousled hair as you wait for him to relax.

“I don’t know how to do this,” Deans said, his eyes searching you for any hint of hesitation.

This was a line the two of you had never crossed, and uncharted territory in the line of work the two of you did was a scary thing when it comes to people you care about. So much could happen. There were so many liabilities, but you couldn’t live without him, and he obviously had gotten to the point where he couldn’t live without you. So here you were.

“I’m scared too Dean, but I’m willing to try,” you tell him, placing your hand on the side of his face, and he leans into your touch, closing his eyes for a moment as he gathers his emotions. Trying to make sense of it all.

No, you weren’t supposed to have this, no, you weren’t supposed to have a happily ever after. This life was a bitch, and you were both far from perfect. Some of the shit you’d seen had affected you greatly, more than you even wanted to admit to yourself. You couldn’t even imagine the scars that Dean carried that no one could see. He’d gone through, and lost so much more than you even know about. People tend to forget even the people that save the world hurt too.

The hurt you’d caused each other wouldn’t fade away overnight. It would take years of building trust again, and it would take time just being together, if you had that, you’d take whatever you had.In this life, tomorrow was definitely never promised.

Tonight though, a little bit of the loneliness disappeared as clothes started to hit the floor.As his mouth explored your own, before tentatively wondering it’s way over your body. As your hands explored his body, running over every visible mark on his skin, leaving little goose bumps in their wake. As he slid himself inside of you, two marred and twisted souls became one. . That piece of the puzzled you’d been missing all your life finally fitting together.

The moving, pressing, touching, the rise and fall as your bodies drove each other slowly towards what can only be described as pure ecstasy, something you’d ever experienced with anyone you’d ever been with, because there was love there, where before there was nothing but a void. Two scared and wounded hearts beat as one for the first time. It was going to be a slow, and careful thing. Fragile. As you fell asleep wrapped in each other's arms, you were confident if you died right then in that moment, it was as close to heaven as you’d ever get. You’d get there together,however long you had, because now there was nothing left in the way. He was yours, and you were his, and that’s the way it was always going to be.

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