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lunavagans · 5 months ago

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In celebration of my upcoming graduation I‘ve been replaying A Link between Worlds as the first loz title I ever finished, and like. Y‘all this game is really good. Some things I‘ve noticed, now that I‘m playing it as someone who has been to school and learnt about characters, story analysis, and as someone who just wants to rant about it (naturally, spoilers abound below, though I can‘t imagine anyone not knowing about the gist? It‘s an old game, after all):

In Zelda‘s office, there are hearts in the corners of the room. In Hilda‘s, there aren‘t. However, once you reach Zelda‘s office, there‘s not really an urgent need for you to heal up anymore, especially since you can get hearts out of pots shortly before. As such, they most likely hold metaphorical value (aka the developers ship Zelink).

Perhaps a bit obvious, but maybe one of the most jarring things to notice as a first-time player is the contrast between the symbol of the triforce on the pink carpet in Zelda‘s office and the upside down triforce on Hilda‘s purple one. I still think that‘s an awesome choice storytelling-wise.

Immediately outside of Hilda‘s office, there are torches with the same kind of colorful fire that Yuga‘s staff has in his second boss fight.

Speaking of his second boss fight, why the fuck are the two walls that go down/up with his defeat so colorful? Just why? It looks like lego.

The first time when the little witch‘s broom gets me without her and it just goes „…“ still hurts just as much. I love Irene.

DAMN, Impa has a big nose in her portrait.

Wow, that little bit with fatphobia and Oreen really went over my head as a child.

Ganny doesn‘t even get to say one word in his first scene, huh? Goes to show who‘s really the boss.

Love how we see Link being woken up twice and both times have to do with the forge.

That place where we find Gully‘s bag has birds and squirrels and the place with the master sword also does… foreshadowing? Probably.

The wife of Lorule‘s blacksmith can talk all she wants about hating children, but she did pick me up from the road and lay me on the table instead of the ground.

Why does Hilda get to be Queen and Zelda doesn‘t? The latter part of the question is only I pose everyday about every game.

That bit where Yuga says he dislikes Zelda‘s haircolor but still finds the portrait beautiful shows how he really doesn‘t care about the actual looks of the people he hunts down, only who they are and if he needs them/if they pose a threat or annoyance to him. This is also why he finds Link himself ugly; Yuga attributes beauty to character as he subjectively perceives it. (I really don’t know if that sentence works?? English isn’t my first language; but I’m also not gonna look up the words). HOWEVER,Yuga also compliments Zelda‘s facial features. As we‘ve established, he doesn‘t care about the looks themselves, so maybe there‘s a correlation with Zelda and Hilda being counterparts. Yuga knows Hilda and might think of her positively, which is why he finds the superficial features they share beautiful.

From Ravio‘s identity reveal, we learn that he somewhat knows how to do the Basic Human Interaction Thing. So why‘s he so obnoxious when he‘s literally asking to live in my house because he‘s a fugitive back home or something??? Is he trying to be quirky? To seem like a non-scammer so I‘ll take his items? Those items are the only thin in Hyrule that‘ll get me through the dungeons, why does he think he has to kiss my feet to endear himself to me??

I choose to believe that, since no other person even shows knowledge of the existence of Ravio‘s items save for Osfala, that they do not exist anywhere else. So where did he acquire them? In the diary in his house, he mentions having magic, and magic runs in the items as well, in form of the meter that runs out to the side. Maybe he invented them. He does mention not being brave, but being smart in the ending when he reveals himself.

That stinky armband. What‘s the trigger for its use? In the game, Link gets put into time-out (the wall). Is the trigger just being put in there by someone else?

I love how some characters just tend to break the fourth wall. Gully and his dad with the saving, Ravio with the quick switch for the items, Mother Maiamai (her name‘s Mama Maimai in german, btw, thus she will be henceforth referred to as Mama) with the maimai map… also the old man introducing you to streetpass. The latter is also referenced by the rumor guy in the woods as extremely dangerous and keen on keeping his secrets.

Skulls sure are a choice of decoration for Ravio‘s little yard. Makes me wonder if he maybe used those as intimidation tactic, or maybe, judging by just how many there are in Lorule, they‘re just plants that evolved to look that way for the exact same purpose. (There’s probably some parallels between Ravio and the plants with mimicry here.) But then again, why would so many be in the dungeons?

Irene and Mama know each other?? Over her grandmother maybe?

The merchant at Lake Hylia proves that Lorule has more than one language, which is more than Hyrule can say of itself. But like, if Lorule is supposedly a mirrored image of Hyrule, then this means that that is only in the landscape and some characteristics of the people born there, p.e. Ravio and Link being similar in terms of looks, but not in character. They do not have a similar development in (I would bet on) anything else, also as proven by Boris‘ counterpart, or rather his death decades before the hyrulean version‘s.

Thee are speaking animals in Lorule. There are giant speaking turtles in Lorule. Nobody questions this. Speaking animals are normal. The only speaking animal in Hyrule is Mama, and she is hidden away in a cave. What the fuck?

(They also have tiny dragons as ravens. This is so important, personally.)

Why is the hylian shield in a Lorule dungeon?

The great fairies look like they could have been Kokiri once upon a time. At least now we know what happened to them in this time line.

Are those dragon statues on the outside of the palace of darkness??? (Okay, maybe that‘s just because these guys worship monsters, but dragons are cool as hell in every situation. At the very least, they‘ve got taste.(They kinda look like Toothless-))

Once you free the fourth sage, you get a cutscene with Hilda telling you about a Hero of Lorule long ago. I get that Ravio is supposed to be the present Hero of Lorule, but like……… I wanna know about that former hero. New game with that hero?? Pls?

Okay, the priest in Lorule‘s church basically tells us the silver triforce was destroyed three years ago. What happened between then and before Ravio‘s appearance at our doorstep??

Where do the monster cult members go after the dark palace???

I LOVE THE BOMB FLOWER MERCHANT!!! Also, does he call Link Thunder Flower Kid/Bomb Flower Kid in the english version, too? I probably won‘t bother to google that.

You know that cellar you need to go through the enter the church for the first time? Yeah, in the lorulean version, there are bats whose body consists of only a giant eyeball. I can‘t help but wonder if perhaps Vaati somehow caught a glimpse of them before he stole the minish cap… But for that to be possible, it has to exist in that same timeline, so idk.

THERE ARE LITTLE CUTE GHOSTS ON THE MAP AT LORULE‘S GRAVEYARD. OH MY GOD.

The fortune teller and the witch should‘ve had a happy ending. I don‘t care about Zelda, let me play matchmaker, Nintendo.

Mama has one hundred children. The fact that her species seems to thrive on the principle of „get many children, be happy if only a few survive“ tells us that barely any of them will live much longer. On that account, where are the other Parent Maimais? I propose that she has eaten her mate like praying mantises (what‘s the plural?) do.

I really like the floor pattern of the skull wood dungeon.

Going by the sound those eyeballs make when you throw them, they‘ve got to have a jelly consistency. I think they‘d be tasty, like those sour halloween eyeballs. Do they have those outside of Germany? I don‘t know, I never hear about them anywhere else.

When I played through the skull wood dungeon, my cat was laying on the bed with me, and the mattress vibrated from his purring. Very important info.

Wait wait wait. There are not lorulean counterparts for any of the sages, except for Zelda (Hilda). Why?? Did Yuga get rid of them all for some reason and nobody tells us? If they existed at all, then it would somewhat explain why Hilda vaguely knows the sages themselves? (I know I‘m contradicting that one point from earlier that there‘s no correlation between counterparts except for sheer existence, but eh.)

If I could be bothered to, this would be a ALbW hinox hate account, okay? But get this… the hinoxen on the ice mountain wear sweaters to not freeze.

The signs up to the ice dungeon sure are a mood. It feels like I‘m in a movie, together with the music that slaps unreasonably hard.

I hate the ice dungeon.

Okay, in the North American French localization, it‘s implied that Ravio made up his name when he met Link and like??? Why?? Did he also make up Sheerow‘s name??

Who the hell even is Yuga? Why can he go 2d?

Okay, so Lorule‘s triforce was destroyed in a civil war to avoid constant conflict. Cool. The fact that they even had a triforce means that they were visited by the goddesses, so some form of their counterparts. After the triforce - evidence of those godesses‘ favor - was destroyed, the kingdom fell into ruin. That‘s so much pettier than greek tragedies where only a bloodline is cursed at most.

#legend of zelda #legend of zelda a link between worlds #a link between worlds #long text post #this little project was a lot of fun #i only thought to start this when i finished off yuga a second time so everything‘s a little out of order #might even add some more but those will go into rbs

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scoobydoodean · 2 years ago

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i mean in a show where someone gets killed nearly every episode, most of those people dying by the main characters’ hands, who “deserves” death and who doesn’t and who gets to decide that is always blurry. and is never addressed directly in the show, as that would question the authority of the main characters, which makes these discussions always a bit of a slope. i do agree that those people amy killed probably weren’t. the best picked to die. like she would probably be powerful enough to take on more “deserving” targets. but then again who gets to decide that etc. just to clarify, i’m not trying to disagree with you, i just always like to bring thoughts to the table and see what everyone else thinks. the girl next door certainly is an episode !

About Amy picking more "deserving" targets:

I don't think Amy actually cared all that much how "bad" the targets were tbh. I don't think she spent time evaluating and researching each victim through a Dexter-esque kill code before murdering them. She had no time for that—her son was actively dying, and if she wanted to save him, she had to kill quickly. She was still stalking and killing while Sam was actively hunting her because the situation was that urgent and dire. No—what Amy did is pick conveniently and opportunistically. She picked people who happened to be out at night, alone, whose deaths the police would have little interest in prioritizing. Her goal was never to act out vigilante justice—taking an extremely short amount of time to notice that someone was a petty criminal just helped assuage some of her guilt about it.

For the rest of it, let me give you three situations:

My child is being stalked by a serial killer. The killer comes to my house with the intention of killing my child. I kill that serial killer.

There is no enforcement of law where I live. Murderers run amok, able to stalk, murder, and even eat their victims and no one does anything about it. I decide to act as a vigilante to defend the victims of these killers from stalking, killing, and eating them by killing the people who I know are stalking, killing, and eating them.

I have a child who is dying and requires a heart transplant in order to survive, and I know that my child will not survive long enough to receive an organ donation on a very long waitlist. However, there are plenty of people around me who have working hearts, so I hunt down one of them and kill them and arrange to have their heart transplanted into my child.

These three scenarios become increasingly morally grey from one to the next (in fact, I have absolutely zero issue at all whatsoever with the first, and in its specific context, not much issue with the second), but the third is very very different from the first and second, is it not? And to me, a very obvious example of something that is evil.

Whether the target I pick in the third scenario is a person who’s never even jaywalked before or whether it's Tim who lives down the street who I knows deals drugs, or hell—even if it's a dude on death row—doesn't change the fact that the only one trying to and succeeding at trying to kill anyone at the end of the day is just me; that nobody threatened or wronged my child; that nobody was trying to steal their life. In this third scenario, there is no evil figure I am fighting directly against. I steal people's lives and essence in order to keep my child alive out of nothing more than selfishness.

While I agree it's easy to get into the weeds of vigilante justice, we shouldn't, because that isn't even what Amy was doing. She is not #2—she's #3. What she did versus what Sam and Dean do as a job (#2) are ultimately very different things in terms of the motives and circumstances involved, the victims, and the aggressors.

In the end, the whole discussion started with me bringing up a specific line, where Sam says that he and Dean would both murder strangers in order to feed their insides to a loved one just to keep that loved one alive, which is very very different from what they do on a regular basis in terms of circumstances and motives, regardless of if we're talking people who "deserve" to die or people who don't.

#mail #like death row guy certainly feels different from the others because... he's dying anyway.#still even that sort of concept ended up being something dean tapped out on.#but again just trying to point out the entire scenario is very different from what sam and dean do on a daily basis which is number 2.#Sam? Hm... he was going to kill Crowley for Rowena? But like. Also Crowley did a lot of fucked up shit. Killed one of his GF's etc it fits #pretty well into the vigilante justice framework plus he's gonna argue utilitarianism all over it since he's trying to get rid of the MOC #amy #7.03

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lykosog · 1 year ago

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ROBB'S SURVIVED RED WEDDING VERSE

RED WEDDING — This is one of the aspects where I take some influence from the show since it's a tragic event and I want to use the saddest version of it. Unless otherwise plotted, Jeyne Westerling ( who manages to convince Robb in her third and last try to take her with him ) ends ups dying there.

That's the only difference, the rest has happened just like in the books. So no, there's no pregnancy since Jeyne was drinking moon tea unknowingly and since I absolutely and completely ignore Talisa's storyline from the show.

SCAPE — A group of still sober men realize of the Freys betrayal and immediately grab some weapons. After fighting their way through to Grey Wind's cage, they free the direwolf and it wasted no second in running to Robb's side. It's entrance in the hall creates such chaos ( since the beast attacked and killed anyone who dared get in it's way or close to Robb ) that those men are able to reach their unconscious king and get him to a safe place.

RECOVERING — No matter that Robb lived, his condition is terrible due to the three arrow wounds he received at the Red wedding . So the men who saved him had to look for a place where they could treat him. Eventually, they come across the castle of a small riverlord still loyal to the Tullys and the Starks, who lets them in and does everything in his power to help them.

NIGHTMARES — They start once the physical pain has gone away, as if to continue reminding Robb of what occurred and that he is to blame for all of it. The most recurrent one is that where he is caught by the Freys, he gets beheaded and then see, as if he were another person, his body with Grey Wind's head. A premonition since that's the story he then hears his enemies have been spreading so everyone believes he is dead?

TRAVEL — Robb and the men who saved him disguise themselves as a group of merchants. Their faces are not known, so they can talk to people without the fear of being recognized. Robb however, for obvious reasons, always keeps his hidden and does everything he can to not drag attention to himself.

Note: taking into consideration the time he would spend recovering and then traveling North, my bet is that he reaches it once his family has already taken Winterfell back. If not, Robb will use his disguise to go to northern lords' castles and spend time with them to see if they can still be trusted and he can get their support to do it himself.

GREY WIND — Robb understands why his direwolf reacted the way it did back at the Twins and finally realizes just how wrong he had been in not trusting or listening to its signs. That strengthens their bond once more since Robb is not willing to repeat his mistake and now it never leaves his side.

FAMILY — For a very long time he has the same information about them that he did at the time of his presumed death with the only exception of Catelyn who Robb will hear also died almost right away after his health improves.

Unless otherwise plotted, since she seemed to not care about what happened to her and only wanted to protect her son, my take is that she contributes to the chaos Grey Wind creates by making her canon threat in order to make it harder for the Freys to go after both of them. Eventually realizing he had lost his opportunity to follow Robb, Walder decides to take his vengace on her at least.

#𝐢. 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐠𝐨𝐝𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠 > headcanon #𝐢𝐯. 𝐈 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐫 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐧 > verses — survived red wedding #if you have read this know that I love you #because this was waaaaay longer #than I expected it to be

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might-forget-this-blagg-exists · 5 months ago

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There's this scene in the Sin harem fanfic where Sin, Ram and El are trying to find an enemy gear that is hiding in a pool. They know someone was in there because Elphelt was swimming earlier and she felt someone grab her leg. In order to catch the gear, they stay behind at school without telling anyone, and go to the pool to see if the monster is still there. They can't see a monster, so they decide that Elphelt should go swimming in the pool again and see if her leg gets grabbed. Her leg gets grabbed again, and in order to defeat the monster Sin runs electricity through the water, electrocuting both Elphelt and the enemy gear. This is framed as brilliant quick thinking that saved the day, by Sol, who shows up after Elphelt got electrocuted. He cleans up the mess and tells the kids that they did great today, and they go home without so much as a slap on the wrist, except for Elphelt who got electrocuted.

I hate this scene so much, and I especially hate the framing of it. Not only was it was a braindead plan that put Elphelt in physical danger and pain twice, the text goes out of its way to acknowledge the danger of both of these instances by having El be reluctant to get in the water, and then having Sin be reluctant to electrocute her. On top of that, the electrocution didn't even beat the monster, Sol had to come over and finish it off (he's like, training them to fight, it's a whole thing). He literally congratulates Sin for his smart thinking when he should have been shoving him into the water for being too dim-witted to catch a guppy.

Literally it's even more infuriating when it's so obvious how the scene just writes itself. You ever see a video of an octopus or cuttlefish trying to blend in? It's near perfect when it's underwater coral and rocks and kelp debris, but when you put them on a flat and artificial surface LIKE THE BOTTOM OF A POOL the roundness of their bodies makes perfect camouflage impossible. It would be hard to tell what's going on in P.E. class, when the water is disturbed, but after hours it would only take a good look at the still water to realise that the pool tiles are looking weirdly bulged out in the shape of a fish man trying to hide that he's been eating highschoolers.

Easiest rewrite ever: Right after Elphelt's ankle gets grabbed during class, the trio tells Sol about it. Sol tells the trio to meet him after class at a certain time, and for the safety of the human students, immediately calls off pool exercises for the rest of the day. Afterwards, when the teacher and students are alone, Sol lets the three try to defeat the gear as like a pop quiz or something, or maybe Sin asks to try and prove himself idk. Either way, they are tasked with finding and subduing the gear, which would be an easy lesson about how some gears have camouflaging powers and using their tools and the environment to their advantage. Maybe, like, Elphelt wants to start slinging bullets, but then Sol threatens the cost of repairs, and then maybe Ram brings up how they learned about water conductivity in science class. THEN Sin can bring out his lightning, and maybe that just makes the gear angry instead of defeating it, so there can be a more drawn out fight scene. BUT LIKE!!! What if the electrocution is enough and that's just the end of the fight, and the point of the lesson was that stopping to think clearly can avoid a lot of headache and needless risk by avoiding a noisy destructive battle that would have left a lot of evidence behind.

I just. How is this not obvious? Genuinely how. There's a better story RIGHT THERE IT IS IN YOUR HANDS HOW DID YOU BOTCH IT LIKE THIS HOWWWWWW

#guilt gear #i need to stop thinking about this fic #fic reading

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vanilladaises-rp · 8 months ago

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(Luna! Im glad to see you’re still here. I haven’t been by in forever and I have no idea if we’ve done this before. Maybe? No? Perfect time then! I’m Brook, 22 and if it’s ok I’d like to send a starter with Wonho)

Brook leaned against the counter in the cafe she worked. It was unusually cold today and it started to rain which made the girl doubt they would have any customers until a tiny jingle of the bell above the door chimed.

She looked up to see a very handsome man in a suit walk in to dodge the rain. While the cashier took his order, Brook stood with a cup and pen in hand very interested in everything he had to say… even if it was just to order something to keep warm.

“What’s your name?” She asked in a breathy, almost dream like voice. The pen almost fell to the floor when her coworker nudged her ribs and she realized how odd she was acting. “F-for the c-cup!” She tried to save face. “Yeah. Cup. So I know who it’s for.” She smiled shyly and looked around.

‘Smooth. He’s the only one here’ she chuckled to herself

♊️

The man wasn't planning on having such a late night coffee run, but he had to blend in somehow without being noticed by his rivalry. Before entering, Wonho was previously being chased by a few men that were apart of an enemy gang. They had previous stolen from him and immediately cut all ties, and although it was not like Wonho to run off, they caught him in a more family oriented part of town, so he wasn't gonna risk anyone getting harmed.

Instead he had one of his executives call the police report of group of thugs disturbing the neighborhood which resulted in the men making fools out of themselves for being out in the open with their weapons. And even if there was the slightest chance they'd find him before the cops showed up, Wonho had entered this cozy pastel cafe, making it the least obvious place to look for a mafia boss.

Once he had heard the men yell in frustration while gettng arrrested, Wonho chuckled and their lame attempt and moved on. When he walked up to the counter, the man dressed in all black noticed the slight dreamy like expression on your face, chuckling on the inside at how you voice matched it, "Wonho" He said simply, turning both ways noticing the cafe was empty, "Didn't realize there were so many Wonho's tonight" He teased lightly.

(Hi luv! So happy to see you back ahh! Im not sure, we may have started but its okay, I don't mind a fresh start. Hope u are doing well! 🫶🏻)

#wonho 💣#♊️

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fancyfade · 2 years ago

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How would you describe Barbara's personality?

DISCLAIMER: as for all my babs posts, this applies exclusively to pre magicuring babs

short version: the title her channel has on the batfam discord im part of :P

(name was voted on by babs fans :P)

but anyway longer version:

babs is a character who is fiercely independent and doesn't really like being reliant on other people... physically or emotionally. she keeps people at arms length. she has a lot of what i view as bruce's unhealthy traits (feels personally responsible for everything, doesn't like letting people in, workaholic) a difference is i think she's slightly better at recognizing this and correcting it :P (Including when she treats other people unfairly -- she recognizes that she got over protective of Dinah after she got captured and injured and she wouldve HATED if anyone did that to her)

she also, despite being somewhat distant, is a character who very much believes in change. like thats part of the point of BoP and later on we see her try to change helena (against her will ;_;) and savant so savant is not a supervillain anymore and is also very much a mentoring people who are down on their luck kind of person (link) and she kind of wants to be the person for other people that some others* were for her. and she is SO involved in the superhero community it is obvious that connections are very important to her and she wants to be there for everyone even if she rarely will let people be there for her

she can also tend towards hypocritical sometimes :P Some of this is probably due to changing in writers but its a fun character trait to play with (and some times it is in text intentionally, like when she treats dinah in a way she would not like to be treated). but in suicide squad we see her debating luring carmichael into a trap to kill him (in her defense: he is totally trying to kill her) and later on we see her being OK with taking a life in self defense (she prepares to shoot someone in NML to save one of her operatives but helena as batgirl shows up so she doesnt need to, and she gives helena the go ahead to kill people if she needs to to rescue tim in jokers last laugh)... which makes it kind of amusing/frustrating that she beefs so much with helena which i think was partially due to the writers wanting everyone to exclude helena in batfam and partially due to good old fashioned misogyny on part of dixon (b/c dick had a one night stand with helena in one comic, so obviously babs has to hate helena in another and then other writers cant drop it b/c they cant imagine female characters as having relationships outside of men. though most of those writers were... male writers. act surprised)

this is what inspired the channel name (in that she recognizes traits she has in others but doesnt like it :P)

anyway time for some virtues: babs is extremely self assured and like… almost NEVER comes across as insecure or if she is insecure she reacts in a way that is more like covering it up by acting as ifs he has no doubts, which I like. frequently, when she is in distress, she is the person who rescues herself or at least contributes to her rescue (yes even as a disabled woman. act shocked, ableists). and despite the hard time she can have getting along with people and the many mistakes she makes, she also never stops trying and always learns from her own mistakes.

her self care in BoP reads like making sure other people are taking care of themselves XD (getting helena a teaching job, helping dinah get a flower shop, them getting civilian lives and she's just... still there, still without much of a civilian life). though this works with like. how little she seems to like other people taking care of her.

She reads as kind of autistic to me NGL

I am running out of things to say or more of i am worried i am repeating myself.

*but not batfam members

#anon #ask #barbara gordon #dc comics #birds of prey 1998

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museincarnate · 2 months ago

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Approximately three to four days later...

The Mighty Saiyan had found a relatively convenient area to use as a training grounds, for himself, his daughter and the Luparian, though something more spacious and durable would have been preferred; the power that the trio possessed proving capable of decimating landscapes, if they weren't too careful. A few days was all that Torno allowed himself, as well as the rest of the group, to have for any sort of rest and mental preparation, before he'd told both Hakkona and Tazz to meet with him at the aforementioned training site.

In the days leading up to the start of their training, Hakkona had still not spoken a word to anyone, as her wardrobe gained several dark hoodies, as well as baggy shirts and sweatpants; her more colorful, form-fitting clothes practically drowned in larger wear, as if to signify a loss of her self-confidence. At the very least, however, the Buff Gal would show up to train in a pair of black joggers, and a matching sports bra, as was par for her regular choice of tops; her physical appearance, otherwise, remaining just as muscular, while the reminder of Ghost's assault was covered by a choker that just barely hid most of the burned-in handprint. While attire certainly wasn't important, it was a departure from how the Saiyaness presented herself, before.

When Tazz had arrived, Torno made no effort to set any sort of goal for the first training session, as he immediately took up a fighting stance; his gaze fixated on his offspring, likely as he'd done countless times before, when they'd train together. The Royal Commander was wholly aware of Tazz's own pacifism, and didn't seek to put her on the spot, but... Instead of greeting the Mighty Saiyan with a fighting stance of her own, Hakkona's gaze shifted to the dirt beneath her feet, as her posture stiffened. If either the Luparian or the Buff Gal's father would notice, even, the Saiyaness was lightly trembling, as if fighting her father, or facing him was something almost panic-inducing.

"If you're expecting an out from this, Hakkona, you won't receive one." Calloused, despite how loving of a father he was to his daughter, otherwise, Torno's words cut straight to the point; a hint of impatience lacing itself into every word that left his lips. "You haven't tried to get out of training since you were a child, and that's not about to change, now."

Hakkona, all the while, could only slightly raise her head, and shift her oculars towards Tazz, as if to ask for help; the Buff Gal's discomfort becoming more obvious, as a slight pout in her lips simultaneously came with a hesitant gaze towards the Mighty Saiyan she'd idolized for her entire life. She knew that her father was steadfast in his ideations, and even that he was right, but... All of that was before the Scorched Saiyan had shattered her self-worth, and left her scarred in every way that he did.

Torno's daughter's gaze towards the Luparian would, thereafter, be met with a harsher tone than before, from Hakkona's father. "Take. Up. Your. Stance. Tazz won't be saving you from what's necessary, so enough with this sudden complacency!" A particular word, just then, had escaped the Royal Commander, even if he was unaware of its significance to his offspring; his posture and muscles poised to take off towards the Buff Gal, if she didn't readily defend herself within the next few seconds.

The Saiyaness nearly wished to withdraw into herself, and hide from the more stern side of her father, as his words rained down on her like some sort of downpour. No matter how much she didn't want to admit it, even to herself, Hakkona knew that she was terrified of something to do with her prolific parent; shoving the thought aside with each moment, until a particular word nearly made her blood run cold...

Complacency?

The very word, itself, caused the image of her previous attacker to flash into her mind, as the very same word was spoken in his voice, and not Torno's own; a concoction of familiar feelings welling up inside the Saiyaness, as her eyes snapped to meet the Royal Commander's own. A snarl would etch itself onto Hakkona's visage, as a stance was immediately taken thereafter; the briefest of glimpses of her fighting stance being made visible, before she took off at breakneck speeds to quickly close the distance gap between herself and Torno!

The Buff Gal would immediately throw a right hook at her predecessor's cheekbone, after allowing her emotions to get the better of her; an unintentional surge in motivation and purpose driving Hakkona to oblige her father in what they'd done countless times before. For all her efforts, her change in demeanor would take the Mighty Saiyan off-guard for just a second, and likely brought her closer to landing the punch on her father!

And yet... It was all for naught, as the smallest ounce of hesitation granted Torno enough time to react, and juke his head back just enough to avoid being in the trajectory of such a hellacious, sudden attack. Just as Torno was evading his daughter's right hook, however, he would launch a left haymaker of his own, and easily countered his progeny's attempt at offense; gauging his strength to a spar-friendly level, at least to their standards, which still caused Hakkona to stagger sideways after the blow, and forced her head to tilt towards the Luparian pacifist.

The training had begun, and one could only imagine what was in store for Tazz and Hakkona, when paired with such a harsh mentor!

In the event that Hakkona could've lashed out against the Little Rabbit, an exchange of glances between the redheads and the Luparian conveyed a similar train of thought; the baby carrier in Yujin's possession eliminating him from making that hypothetical save on Tater's behalf, considering that he and Hakkona wouldn't want to put their daughter in harm's way. In any event, Shuen kept himself as loose and alert as possible, once Tater had worked her way over to the Buff Gal.

With his oculars fixated on the Lagomorph and his offspring, Torno's peripheral vision would catch Tazz's outstretched hand, as her offering was met with a slow reach for the handkerchief; an initial hum of acknowledgement coming as his primary response, before the Luparian offered Tater's aid to the Mighty Saiyan. Without shifting his gaze in the slightest, he used the handkerchief to wipe some of the blood from his forehead, and chose to address the offer of help, thereafter. "It will heal on its own. Hakkona's wellbeing is more important."

Before the Saiyaness revealed her injury to the rest of the group, Tater's soft gaze and breathing exercises would, to some small degree, allow Hakkona to ground herself enough to control her breathing, in spite of the pain that was coursing through her with each passing moment; several signs of not wanting to be touched remaining obvious in her body language, but lessening as the Buff Gal was able to follow the Little Rabbit's breathing patterns.

Hakkona's gaze would still shift away from her friends and family, once she revealed the extent of her injury to everyone, but even their reactions seemed to hurt the Saiyaness; Tater's and Tazz's being joined by the men in their company. Tears stung at the eyes of Hakkona's former lover, Yujin, as a hand came up to cover his mouth in shock and concern for the mother of his second child; a nauseous feeling sweeping over him, as his other hand came to gently rest on baby Aitez's head, who mercifully slept through such a traumatic ordeal. Shuen, meanwhile, for all that he had seen and endured in his long life, visibly took a step back, as he mouthed "Oh my god...", before his gaze shifted to the father of the injured Saiyaness.

Torno, despite having conquered his demons and anger, and being the most stoic member of the group, furrowed his brows and clenched his fists so tightly that his digits were digging into his palm; drawing blood as a visible snarl etched itself onto his visage, while a sharp exhale escaped through his nostrils. It was impossible to determine which response to the sight of her injury hurt the most, but the Saiyaness looked away from all of them, all the same.

Tater's words would be the only thing that Hakkona registered, from that point on, as the only confirmation she gave to the Little Rabbit was a slow, hesitant nod. Focusing on her breathing did, even if only a little bit, distract the Buff Gal from fixating on the pain she was feeling on multiple levels, before Tater's hand finally met the scorched flesh around her throat. To the Lagomorph, she would find that the flesh was still painfully hot to the touch, as if it was still on fire; the ends of the injury meeting with untouched skin, only to reveal that Ghost's hand had been wrapped so tightly around Hakkona's throat, that no amount of healing would fully remove the mark he'd made on her.

For all of Tater's efforts, once she was finished, a permanent scar, in the shape of Hakkona's attacker's hand, remained wrapped around the neck of the Saiyaness; the flesh no longer burnt or injured, but scarred to a degree that the skin, itself, would feel like any healed burn would, while the discoloration of the area would always be noticeable, from that point on. Until she was asked about how it felt after it was remedied, the Buff Gal had yet to even feel the skin on her neck, let alone see it; her gaze returning to the others, however, once the job was done.

Slowly, Hakkona would reach to feel her neck, as a few of her digits grazed the scarred flesh that, unfortunately, couldn't be repaired fully. The moment that she felt the difference in texture in her own skin, sight was no longer required, to understand the extent of the damage still done to her own body; her controlled breathing turning back into near-frantic breaths, as fear and trauma were mixed, suddenly, with a thirst for vengeance. The Saiyaness, however, seemed too hurt and mentally scarred to speak just yet, as a weak, albeit honest smile was given to Tazz and Tater as a show of gratitude, before her vengeful gaze swept over to her equally frustrated father.

Exchanged glances between her and Torno, for what felt like a quiet eternity, would come with changes in the emotions their eyes held, given their circumstances; Hakkona wrought with guilt and regret, for headbutting the very man she tried to model herself after, while the Mighty Saiyan, himself, kept a softer look in his eyes, to convey his forgiveness of his offspring's sudden outburst, moments ago. Shuen and Yujin couldn't quite bring themselves to speak, even to each other, as they both knew that even if words weren't being spoken, that the Buff Gal and the Royal Commander were sharing a moment with one another.

When that was finished, however, Torno took a deep breath, and allowed himself to relax just enough to soften the pressure of his digits against his palms; his gaze shifting to the rest of the group. "I'd like for all of you to take these next few days to rest, and reflect on yourselves, while Hakkona recovers. Tazz... I'd like for you to join both myself and Hakkona, in preparing ourselves for the likelihood of things worsening, as you fear they might." While it was meant to come off as a request, no one could fault Torno for how he took command over most situations; his gaze, thereafter, shifting to Tater, Shuen and Yujin.

"Tater, I'd like for you to remain with Yujin and his father, so that Aitez is still near him, if that's not an unfair request. As for them..." Both Shuen and Torno's gazes met, in that moment; equally narrowing as they'd both come to realize that the peace they'd afforded for the past year or more was truly at its end, whether they liked it or not. "Train your son, Shuen. Don't coddle him, lest we suffer further damage to those we hold close, for not preparing both them and ourselves for something like this, again." A game plan had seemingly been set, while Torno, albeit indirectly, admitted to his own wrongdoing, in the situation at hand. For the longest time, Torno and Shuen handled threats, themselves, while their offspring and their allies were afforded peace and ease of mind, without having to fend for themselves as readily; creating a sort of dependency on the elder warriors, that simply couldn't work anymore.

"If there are any objections, I suggest you voice them, before we go our separate ways, and prepare for what very well might be inevitable."

#{luparian legacy; tazz}#{dragvnsovl}#{the example; hakkona}#{the embers of fate}#{the end of peace}#{the redeemed; torno}

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e-vasong · 4 years ago

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I’ve already talked about a Leverage crossover where the Hargreeves are conmen but I'm. losing it thinking about. a Leverage AU where the Leverage team sees these kids on tv, and they just go. oh shit, that’s just fucking wrong. (I know the timelines don’t match up but let’s pretend the umbrella kids were born a little later, or that Leverage takes place a little earlier, or something like that. I don’t know.)

But these fucking umbrella kids show up on TV, and at first none of them are paying much attention. Not right away. They’re busy running cons, and none of them except Hardison watch TV for fun very often.

So they’ve all heard bits and pieces about this Umbrella thing, and aren’t quite sure what to make of it. Superhumans, huh? Eliot mutters at one point. Whatever. Our lives are already so goddamn weird.

But eventually they catch a broadcast while they’re home in between cases. it’s playing in the background while they’re enjoying a meal together at the brewery.

The Umbrella Academy saves the day yet again! the broadcaster declares cheerily. We go now to a statement at the Louvre from their leader, Sir Reginald Hargreeves.

It’s just novel enough to catch their attention--being who they are, they all perk up at the word Louvre--and it gets them half-watching as they chat over breakfast.

It’s Parker that sees it first. She’s Parker, so what catches her attention is actually not the fact that one of them is covered in blood, nor is it the fact that their father is calling them by numbers instead of names. It’s the way that they stand, tense and upright. It’s the way that the one covered in blood is trembling minutely, so fine that it’s almost imperceptible. But she notices. And she notices the way that the one to the bloodied boy’s left--the fifth one in line--leans over ever-so-subtly when their father is looking away. Whispers something with the barest movement of his lips. And then, after a moment of hesitation, he links hands with his shaking brother, twining their fingers together. Parker knows that whisper, knows what this is. She used to do that with her brother. Used to hold Nick’s hand, just like that, when their fosters were scaring him, trying to provide comfort even despite the fear of being caught.

It’s not long before the others follow her gaze. She’s stopped engaging in the conversation entirely, is just staring at the television with a death glare, nose wrinkled.

“Parker, baby,” Hardison says. “That’s your angry face.”

“I’m angry,” she says, and doesn’t elaborate.

“Got it,” Hardison takes it in stride, as he always does.

Eliot’s frowning at the TV. Unlike Parker, his eye does jump to the most obvious thing first. To the boy, no older than eleven or twelve probably, drenched head to toe with blood. There’s no rips in his clothing; Eliot’s pretty sure the blood isn’t his. He’s standing up straight, but his shoulders are slightly hunched. Like he’s injured. Broken ribs, maybe? And he’s been taught to hide them too. He’s also not the only one with that too-stiff posture. These kids aren’t standing up straight. They’re standing at attention. Number One, their father calls one of them, and what are those? Fucking callsigns?

Sophie and Nate are watching too. Their faces are carefully blank. They aren’t happy, Parker’s pretty sure, but they’re trying not to react.

“What the hell?” Hardison says slowly. He’s the last one to catch on, though only by a very narrow margin. He lacks Sophie and Nate’s cynicism, and the years of personal experience Parker and Eliot have, but he’s still too smart to not figure it out almost immediately. And he is first one to abandon the stunned stillness that’s fallen over the rest of them, pulling his laptop out of his bag, already quickly tapping away at the keys.

“This ain’t right,” Eliot says, voice a growl in his chest. “This is--this is--it’s televised child abuse.”

Sophie makes a quiet noise of agreement then. “It is,” she says, quietly disgusted. “Those poor children.”

Nate is still staring at the screen, lips pressed flat.

“This Reginald guy looks rich,” Parker says. Then: “Can we kill him?”

Eliot chokes on his drink.

“How is this even legal?” Sophie asks. She sounds curious, though not particularly surprised by the grievous violation of child protection laws before her. “It’s so...blatant.”

“Sir Reginald Hargreeves,” Hardison says, no longer typing. “He is--oh shit.” And the typing resumes, faster and a little more panicked than before.

“Hardison?” Nate prods after a moment, giving Hardison a sidelong glance.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s all good,” Hardison says. “The INTERPOL files on this guy are locked up tight though. Almost tripped their security system there. I didn’t, of course, but--”

“You couldn’t get in?” Eliot says, smirking.

“Yet,” Hardison says. “Dammit, man, it’s been less than five minutes. Give me a couple hours and that thing is mincemeat. Metaphorically speaking, of course. But I do see what’s going on here and,” he clicks his tongue, shaking his head in disappointment. “Y’all, this is hinky.”

“Yes, I think we got that,” Nate says. The corner of his lip twitches up.

“Yeah, yeah,” Hardison says. “This guy has got friends everywhere. No one knows how he got the kids, but it looks like he technically bought them--”

“He what?” Sophie sounds like she’s been suckerpunched. Parker can’t think of the last time she heard Sophie sound so shocked.

“Oh yeah. You think that’s bad? The numbers aren’t code names The numbers are their name names. Like, legally. I just found an article that said he ordered them by how useful he thinks they are, but judging by the adoption papers it was actually in the order he, uh,” Hardison coughs, “acquired them.”

Eliot is swaying where he stands. “Common tactic. He’s pitting them against one another so they’ll be easier to control. It undermines the self worth of the ones lower on the scale and makes the ones that are higher up feel obligated to do what he wants. Son of a bitch.”

“...And it looks like he leveraged their powers as excuse to gain exemptions from child protection laws,” Hardison continues like he hasn’t been interrupted. “Claimed their abilities meant they don’t need the same safeguards.”

“That’s bullshit!” Eliot sounds thunderous.

“I know, buddy,” Hardison reaches over blindly, waving his hand around vaguely until he finds Eliot’s shoulder. He gives it a comforting squeeze. “I didn’t write it.”

Eliot heaves in a shuddering breath. “That’s just--”

“Evil,” Sophie finishes.

“I’m inclined to agree,” Nate says. He’s not watching the TV anymore. He’s staring off into the middle distance, arms crossed over his chest.

“Oh!” Parker perks up. All the grief and distress that had been brewing on her face vanishes like storm clouds parting for the sun. “Nate! Nate, are you scheming? You look like you’re scheming.”

Nate makes a noncommittal grunt. “It would be dangerous.”

“They’re in danger,” Sophie says softly, jerking her head in the television’s direction.

Eliot’s long-since gotten to his feet. He’s pacing, and that’s how Parker knows he’s furious. When Eliot is too angry to stand it, he has to move, has to find some way to handle the rage roiling under his skin. Usually he cooks, chopping vegetables with furious aplomb. And when he can’t cook, he paces.

“They’re fucking child soldiers,” he says. “I can’t--” he cuts himself off with a furious shake of the head. I can’t believe, he was about to say, Parker thinks, but he had to stop because that’s not true. Eliot knows better than anyone what the government--what the world does to people they find useful, whether its skill or power that makes them so.

“Y’all are behind,” Hardison says in sing-song. “I’m already trying to burn this motherfucker down.”

“Hardison, do not tip our hand,” Nate says, snapping into his leader-voice automatically. Parker grins. He’s already got a plan, then. She knew all that reluctance was just for show. Sophie laughs, as clear and bright as the ringing of a bell, and even Eliot perks up.

Hardison grumbles, closing his laptop and stuffing it back in his messenger bag.

Nate is grinning a little too, though it’s that angry smile he gets sometimes when Parker knows he’s thinking about hurting bad people. She understands. She's wearing hers too right now. Nate glances them all over, and for all the malice dripping off the knife’s edge of that smile, his eyes are soft. Maybe even a little proud.

“Fine. Fine. You guys win,” Nate says, lifting his hands in defeat. He’s putting on a show of being beleaguered, but Parker can hear the sparking anger in his voice, and oh, how could she have forgotten? Sophie is so gently righteous, Hardison so achingly distressed, and Eliot so full of fire and fury that she almost didn’t notice Nate’s seething wrath, nearly forgot that Nate looks at every injured child in need of help and thinks of Sam. “Everyone, get your things. Hardison, get us some plane tickets. Let’s go steal some children.”

“Okay, okay. I ain’t complaining cause, like, fuck that guy,” Hardison says, slinging his bag over his shoulder. “But stealing children? Could you have made us sound anymore like kidnappers?”

“Hardison!”

“I’m just saying.”

#tua #the umbrella academy #leverage #my writing #this is kind of garbage but i cant stop thinking about it!!!

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dienamights · 4 years ago

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Unfavorable Guidance | H.Shinso

✎ Mindjack has been doing these kind of jobs since he was recruited as a hero, he is unmistakingly the best at them, doesn’t need anyone butting their noses in his business, especially you, the sly fox in disguise, offering your tainted helping hand.

✎ Protagonists: Hitoshi Shinso x Fem!Reader.

✎ Word count: 6.4K

✎Category: noncon/dubcon, Smut MDNI, Prohero!au

✎Caution(!): noncon/dubcon, Smut 18+ MDNI please, , mentions of alcohol, mentions of murder, minor character death, sex under quirk use, spitting, degrading, swearing, manipulation, unprotected sex.

✎ Author’s notes: I KNOW I’M LATE EUFGKHDFVBDFXL, but here is my contribution to @daisy-bakugo 2k event Vice City! Please take the time to read everyone’s work if you haven’t! Thank you so much for letting me participate.

I listened to this throughout the entire process of writing it, if you’re familiar with Kingdom Hearts, some names will ring a bell to you lol. also I hate the header and the summary but you’re just gonna have to live w it for now cause its 8 am I NEED SLEEP

» Masterlist | Requests | Taglist

The annual auction of Vice City is one of the biggest social events of the year. The wealthiest families and richest people in the world come from everywhere in attempts to win what is secretly considered the greatest treasures of all time. Greatest and most expensive.

Alas, the after party held later on is what people are all secretly actually waiting for, where the most exquisite and rarest artifacts of the year get auctioned off to whoever is lucky enough to even be included in the guest list.

While not all are there for the auctions, it certainly is the perfect opportunity for anyone who's anyone in the world to show off their wealth. Filthy rich people sway all around, laughing and bragging. Venetian crystal chandeliers, velvet carpets, gambling, and alcohol. Men with their cigars, men with their wives, and men with their arm candies, their escorts or mistresses.

Yet, Shinso isn’t here for the luxury, he isn't here for the fame and the fortune, nor the reputation people thrive for when they buy those - meaningless, he calls them - relics. No, he is here on a mission, one he certainly wants to be done and over with because he wants to go home. He loosens his tie with an aggravated sigh before knocking back the last of his only gin and tonic, the bitter taste prickling his throat as he surveys the crowd of people all around him while he stands idly by the bar.

He knew it’d be a pain in the ass the second he got the mission assigned to him from the agency, the words “intel” and “Vice City'' of all places forced a frown upon his face, yet, being the most suitable for this job, he couldn't really decline.

Mindjack isn’t the type of hero you see on billboards and magazines, isn’t the type of hero to kiss babies’ heads that get thrusted at him in meet and greets, he certainly isn’t one to have those adoring fan clubs that follow his every move, posting about his greatest conquests. Oh no, he is a hero that works in dingy jobs with filthy manipulative men in black markets and the human trafficking industry, undercover -lie through your teeth throughout the whole ordeal- kind of hero, the kind of hero that goes home at the end of his missions with no gratitude towards his work, because nobody knows who he is or what he contributes to the society.

For the longest time, Shinso accepted the life he’s living, he didn’t look for validation from the citizens, knowing his work is always beyond the scope of their knowledge and their awareness, but sometimes, just sometimes, the sour droplets of envy would foul his mouth when his amethysts for eyes scan over the extravagant heroes, making a show out of saving their cities and getting praised and awarded and loved for doing what they’re supposed to be doing, their job.

“Squeeze that glass a bit more and you’d break it”

A voice just like silk, weaving around him and entrancing him, Shinso blinked twice before his eyes dragged over to you, oh so beautiful and oh so close. Your nimble fingers wrapped around his fingers, the lacey glove lightly scratches his hand before he lets go of the glass in surprise, dropping it into yours. You giggle sweetly, turning around to place it on the bar before ordering your own, but not without looking at him over your shoulder and sending him a smile.

“What will it be, sugar tits?” the bartender leans over the counter, towel thrown on his shoulder as he sends you what's supposed to be a sultry look. Your elbow is placed on the counter while you rest your chin on your hand, smiling temptingly at him. “Anything that’ll get you to stop staring at my boobs.” Shinso almost laughs at the contrast between your smile and your voice, sharp and venomous, and the man leans back so far from you like he’s been stung. Walking away to work on a drink for you.

Shinso’s eyes rake your body without his knowledge, he admires the dress adorning your body, hugging you in all the right places, cascading down to the floor, and that slit my god, your legs looking endless in those heels he wonders how you can strut so elegantly with them on. A snap of your fingers breaks his trance and he tries - keyword tries - to act nonchalant to his obvious ogling and you only laugh in return.

You hum lowly, “So,” you’re turning to face him as you lean back on the counter, pushing your chest out to grasp even more of his attention, “what's an esteemed hero like you doing in a place like this?” It takes Shinso a good minute before he narrows his eyes, left foot back and ready to either take you down or run away if you were to involve greater forces. No one is supposed to know about his true identity, no one is supposed to know that there is a hero within them.

But what shakes his demeanor is the way you dangle his wallet in front of him, like dangling a stupid feather for some silly cat, waiting for it to jump at you to entertain you. Shinso swallows with a struggle, deciding that using his quirk to retrieve his wallet back will lead to him leaving, and he didn’t want that. He’s been keeping an eye on the wanted man for hours now, and it’ll all go to waste because of your slimy little hands and your-

“Here,” you toss it back to him, and he stumbles a bit before catching it properly, eyeing you for any sudden movements, but you simply turn back around in time to hold the drink from the bartender’s hand with a smile dazzling your lips. “You’re getting intel on The Wise?” you mumble against your cup, sipping slowly, eyes never leaving Shinso’s glaring ones. How the fuck do you know?

“You’re not the first.” you smirk, finger wiping the smeared lipstick against the glass before circling the rim. “You all look the same, thinking you’re better than them because of your position in the society, only for that ego to come and bite you right in the ass.” It’s almost ironic how poisonous your voice could get while still maintaining that mesmerizing smile, and oddly enough, Shinso’s eyes keep drooping despite his desperate attempt to fight against them.

You hum again, the click of your heels sounding muffled to him, eyes blurring when you get so close to him your breath tickles his cheek. “But you’re different, hmm? You’re gonna make the bad guy go away?”

“Yes.” it's rushed, almost desperate, and the hero is astonished at how he sounds. “Then, lemme help you… Hitoshi.”

A blink, and you’re gone just like you vanished right from under his nose, slipped right between his fingers. A low curse escapes Shinso’s lips and he turns around swiftly to question the bartender, hell bent on getting any information on the girl that just revealed his entire identity and mission to him in a matter of seconds.

“How can I help you, sir?” the question boggles his mind, the big burly man with an attitude problem wasn’t there anymore, replaced by another sweet woman that held concern in her eyes at his sight. “You’ve been staring at the wall for a while there, need me to call your driver to get you back?”

“Wa- but I- She,” Shinso’s body started heating up in anger, worry, embarrassment, he doesn’t really know, but what he wants to know right this instant is how long he’s been out of it and for god’s sake, why?

Shinso doesn’t really consider himself to be the sharpest tool in the shed, but dammit did he feel like a complete idiot letting you run off like that, a quick trip to the restroom for a splash of water clears his head enough for him to pull back his wallet from his pocket, flipping through it and finding something he was absolutely sure wasn’t there prior to your visit. A silver card, with ‘Surveillance room’ scribbled on a note behind it.

Caving in and accepting whatever help you were offering him, Shinso slides the card through the reader, sighing in relief upon the satisfying ding sound, followed by the door opening to the surveillance room.

“Now that’s what’m talking about.” life got so much easier now that he could watch The Wise through multiple screens, making it hard to miss a single move of his. The hero allows himself to relax a bit, hand messing with his hair and tired eyes blinking in irritation against the glare of the screens. The Wise was the mastermind of Organization XIII, as their name intel, they’re consisting of the same thirteen members that founded it years ago, nobody really knows how they started, what shocked the whole world is how grand their first crime actually was, bloodbath of the century -they would call it, seventeen slaughtered heroes, followed by their families, including women and children, thousands of millions of ¥ in money laundering atop of it, all within a span of 4 months, that was years ago, back in their prime.

Now, with eight of them behind bars, the remaining five were able to stay under the radar, distributing whatever money they were able to keep between them and fleeing to different parts of the world. Just because they were apart, didn’t mean they were any less dangerous, The Wise is a prime example for that, brutally murdering three of the undercover heroes sent his way to bring him back to justice, but they weren’t Shinso, he’d try to remind himself.

May their soul rest in peace, they were those heroes he felt dissociated from, the type of heroes to flaunt their powers, monetize the peoples’ knowledge of their quirks, uncover the secrets of their job, they were easy targets for people like The Wise, he’d know their weaknesses and how to take them down before they even think about pursuing him. Now, Mindjack was a different story, he wasn’t held on a pedestal by the people he saves, simply because they don’t recognize him, while he would loath that reality sometimes, he thanks the god for it today, as he’s watching the man’s call out for a drink.

Amethyst eyes scan the remaining screens, widening upon the sight of you looking right back at them, you are a vixen to him, eyes half lidded with a smile so intoxicating it does nothing but entrance whoever was lucky enough to catch its sight. Lace clad fingers wrapping around a piece of paper, you are so beautiful, Shinso tries to stop his mind from wandering, imagining what you wore underneath that angel crafted dress, envisioning what those fingers could do to please him, the same fingers that held the unfolded paper, the word ‘RUN’ smeared across it in lipstick.

Wait a minute, run?

Even before the poor hero could react, the similar satisfying -now dreadful- ding rings in his ear, before the door opens behind him, illuminating the room even more. Shinso stands to face two men, both as surprised as he is to see another occupant in the room. Right before any of them move, the hero opens his mouth and prays to god that whatever way he’s winging it works. “You got a permit to be here?”

Jesus one of you answer, and they both do - the left having fingers curving into talons while the right pulled at strings from the tips of his fingers, both ready to attack - and by god Shinso couldn’t be happier upon hearing a sound, because the minute the word ‘yes’ slips through their lips, Mindjack is smiling like a madman, welcoming the look of glossy eyes and heavy heads like a beloved relative’s return back home.

“Great… Now,” the two manipulated men face him, unaware of the dreaded fate bestowed upon them, while Shinso just can’t seem to keep the glint in his eyes at bay. “Why don’t you put on a show for me,” he breathes, smiling down at the ground before looking at them. ”Choke the fucking life out of each other.” The men don’t even blink, quick to face each other and jump, hands wrapped around throats like a vice, Shinso only moves away from the men on the floor as they thrash and kick at each other, limbs flailing as they try to force the life out of each other.

Turning his back against them, Shinso eyes the screen he was monitoring before their entrance, ignoring the groans and gasps of air behind him. He curses under his breath when he sees The Wise getting up from his place, heading towards a room that is supposed to be monitored by screen #6, but is purposely out of service. If he isn’t able to question The Wise or even keep an eye on him, then he’s gonna head on over to the next best thing. Gargled screams echo through the corridor as the hero makes his exit, making sure the door clicks shut behind him, he wouldn’t want to cause disturbance to the esteemed guests of the society of lowlifes.

Mindjack works in dingy jobs with filthy manipulative men in black markets and the human trafficking industry, killing machines that didn’t spare the live of the innocents, so why should he spare theirs?

Shinso makes it back to the main event, immediately finding you between guests, sitting so pretty on the poker table, eyes drawing him closer, the grin adorning your lips now wobbly, easy for him to distinguish as fake, forced, a façade kept for the people surrounding the table. He is hasteful in settling himself in the chair near you, shoulders tense when different pairs of eyes fall upon him, the dealer shuffles the deck to draw cards for Shinso, but you hold your hand out with a smile. “He’ll sit this one out, by my lucky onlooker.” A round of laughter causes Shinso to flush in embarrassment, feeling degraded and looked down upon by all these lowlifes, petty thieves and criminals, thinking they’re better than him, oh he’ll show them.(1)

It takes a few rounds for the table to empty out, now occupied by Shinso and yourself, the dealer asks him to move over to the next chair before they start their game. “Place your bets.” you’re quick to slide over a few of your chips to his side - some black, others red and blue, he didn’t really pay that much attention to them- your eyes daring him to reject your invitation to take the money to play.

He only blinks at you, his eyes seemingly never wanting to lose sight of you as he fights with himself to sit straight to face the dealer again, the man proceeds to deal both of you the cards for you to review before placing your bets. “You tricked me.” Shinso is almost appalled at the hurt laced in his voice, as if the two of you had a bond that was never meant to be broken. “don’t believe so, told you to run didn’ I?” The mockery in your voice is a hoax, the single twitch in your brow catches his attention and he can only deem it as you being stressed, whether it be because of the ordeal regarding the surveillance room or not is beyond him. No, he was stupid and foolish and he will not fall for your silly games again. “Exactly, you knew they were coming.” you hum in response to his accusation.

“Call.” Dropping a few of your chips on the table, your eyes shift momentarily to him, “I did, I said I’d help you and here I am.” He slams his bet on the table, ‘Raise’ gritted right through his teeth at your words. “I don’t want your help!” He reveals his cards on the table, a way to show his disinterest in your assistance as the dealer announces ‘Flush’ at his hand. Your eyes meet again from above your cards, now narrowing down instead of the half lidded look you seem to always have “You don’t want it, but you need it.” The façade you held before is slowly but surely breaking, now a deep frown tugging at your lip as you reveal your own hand, brows furrowing even further in challenge as you hum in displeasure when the dealer announces your ‘Full House’ hand to be the winner of this round.(2)

Shinso moves swiftly to stand when he sees you do the same, right before his entire world starts to spin, lights and colors mingling together and causing his head to spin, he sits down again, head between his hands as he tries to calm himself down, it's probably the strain of the mission, maybe it’s the weight bestowed upon his shoulders to finish it up. The hero lifts his head up to ask you, about something he himself isn’t even sure of, he just wants to hear your voice, like a drug to him that he can’t help but ask for more. Except when he does, you aren’t there, the table is occupied by different people, the dealer is another man with longer hair and slimmer figure, and by god did Shinso want to rip his hair out.

The minute he feels like he could get back on his own to feet without falling down on his ass, Hitoshi is quick to check his pockets, adamant to find a clue your sneaky hands slid into one of his pockets while he was out, despite the tantrum he almost threw at not wanting your help nor guidance, and he does find something, a simple metal key, attached to it was a tag with the number XIII on it.

In his shock, he almost drops the key on the ground but barely holds himself together to avoid any further embarrassment, Shinso takes deep breaths, knowing that the key in his possession is his entry to the heart of the organization, and especially to The Wise.

Every year, specifically at the Vice City annual auction afterparty, The Wise holds a meeting with the most dangerous men within the continent, the most loathsome masterminds of the criminal world, all in the hopes of recruiting one of them into the organization, to uphold its name and spread its message. Every year, with no recruitment yet.

With trembling hands, Shinso stuffs the key back into his pocket, eyes on the lookout for anyone who might’ve caught the key in his hand, but sighs in relief when he sees some engrossed in their meaningless poker and absurd talks, while the majority have made their way to the next hall over for the auction that is being held. He takes the stairs three at a time up the floors, facing a red oak double door, the same forsaken number engraved into it. After multiple failed attempts at inserting the key in the lock, he finally does with a huff, hearing the lock echoing in his ears before pushing the door open.

To be honest, Shinso didn’t know what he was expecting to see on the other side of the door, he thought maybe he’d watch weaponry trade off, perhaps people brawling and fighting amongst each other for the title of being the new members. But he certainly didn’t expect to be engulfed in jazz music, men with their cigars laughing and chatting, without a single care in the world, as if their hands weren’t tainted with the blood of the innocents, oh how he loathed them. In an attempt to fit in, he grabs a glass of whiskey from the butler standing by the door, nodding to him in thanks before moseying his way over to the corner in the room, he’d be damned if he got caught in the crossfire of those lunatics.

A stage is set up in the front of the room, and it takes a second for him to acknowledge the pole placed right at its center, it takes him another few seconds to see the beauty dancing on that pole, Shinso’s eyes rake her body without his knowledge, he admires the lingerie adorning her body, hugging her in all the right places, garter snug against her thighs as she twirls, her legs looking endless in those heels he wonders how she can dance so elegantly with them on… wait a minute.

As if predicting the minute he realized it was you, you twirl to face him, lips pulled into a smile yet again, a giggle interrupting your humming as your body twists and turns on the pole. Shinso isn’t really sure how long he sits there captivated by your body, the only thing breaking his trance is the clap on his back and the heavy weight that sits next to him. “Beauty, isn’t she?”

Bile rises to Shinso’s throat at the mere sound of the person next to him, fear stills him in his place, restricting any movement he’s even thinking of doing, all he could do is sit, widened eyes and sweaty brows at the sight of The Wise right beside him.

“Don’cha love it when women like her,” The Wise points at you with his cigar, “work to please men like us?” His arm now completely wrapped around Shinso’s shoulder as the hero feels his soul levitating from his body. “Look aroun’ya,” and he does, and only then does he really pay attention, he should’ve seen it all along, the glossy eyes, the droopy heads, it's a sight he was so well accustomed to that his brain normalized it to him. With whatever courage he musters up, he shifts his eyes to look at the man beside him, noticing the ear plugs he wore, and right then the gears start to turn in his head. “My most prized possession I tell’ya.”

Of course you would be, how else would you have access to all these things, the card, the key, the vanishing from thin air, it all makes sense now.

“Enjoying yourselves, gentlemen?” your words are flowing like honey to his ears, a low buzz ringing in his brain as you spoke to the men in front of you. His ability to frown is nonexistent, a relaxed look adorning his face as he looks up at you, so elegant and beautiful in whatever hugged that miracle of a body.

“Sure are,” The Wise jerks Shinso by the shoulder, and he realizes that was done to break whatever trance he was in, he could only glare back at you when you smile at them, that conniving smile that hosted all the lies you spouted to him.

“y/n,” He calls you and by God if this isn’t the most beautiful name Shinso ever hears, what a shame it's being tainted by the voice of this criminal. “Wadda ya say to takin’ this fine boy to the red room, hm?” The man urges him to stand and take your hand, which he did at the blink of an eye, his body moving on it’s own to graze his lips against your knuckles in a breathless kiss. “Treat’m real nice for me.” The hero’s feet take him to follow you, his steps light, like walking on clouds, the sway of your hips pulling him closer to you until his chest is flush against your back, pushing you to move faster into the room you are pointed towards.

Walking aimlessly through hallways, taking lefts and rights he would never be able to recollect in his current state, you both enter a room, red just like The Wise called it, crimson silk sheets fitted on a king sized bed, maroon loveseats and plush carpets, everything in that red hue that it's almost nauseating.

Bringing your hands in a loud clap, the fogginess in Shinso’s vision dissolves, your creased brows and frown now more prominent to him than ever, his eyes catch the scar trailing from the back of your neck to your cleavage, confused as to why his usual perceptive self would miss it, but then again, he doesn’t feel like he was ever himself throughout this whole ordeal.

To say he was furious is an understatement, he never felt more played in his life, he is Mindjack, the most conniving hero of all of Japan, he was manipulative and sly , known by his people to get jobs done, no matter who his opponent is, he always comes back victorious. And when his ears pick up your sigh of relief, he could only see red, he is hurt, he is scared, but now its his act, his turn to fuck shit up, he wants to hurt, he wants to scare.

“Fuckin’ lying bitch,” It takes him all but two steps for his body to graze yours, tantalizing eyes boring down into yours as you gasp at the close proximity, “you were workin’ with’em this entire fuckin’ time?”

“N-no that’s not it,” you stutter, flustered at his overwhelming presence, trying to put some distance between you and the fuming man by pushing his chest, “Please, I need you to listen to me.”

“Oh, now you’re beggin’ hmm?” his firm warm hands circle your wrists, tugging them away from his body and using them to pull you even closer to him, his breath now grazing the tops of your cheeks, “Didn’t your boss tell you to treat me right?” he breathes, “well, get to it, slut.”

“That’s not what this is Hitoshi, just listen-” for the love of all that’s pure in this world, why does the sound of his name exceed his perception of how happiness is supposed to reverberate in his ear? “Keep my name outta your mouth, or I swear,” He hisses at you, the grip on your wrists tightening as you whimper out in pain.

“You think you can just toy with me? Have me running around and following your orders like a lil bitch!?” He sees you trembling, lips wobbly and in tears, how ironic, he doesn’t know a few words would get you to start tearing up, the change in demeanor from when he first met you confuses him for a second, but only a second, because he’ll be damned if he falls for any of your tricks anymore. “N-no, I swear it isn’t like that, just p-please, please c-calm down! Let me explain myself-” the ugly cackle he lets out shuts you up, teary eyes widening as they fall on his, the aura he’s radiating is terrifying to say the least, your knees shaking in dread at what’s about to fold.

“You think you can play my game and win?”

It takes you a minute to answer, the word no echoing in your head, throbbing in your brain so painfully you forget the words that follow it, but what you can’t forget, what you will never forget, no matter how delirious you feel, is the look of pure sin across Shinso’s face, grin rivaling that of the Cheshire cat, because you were now simply a measly little pawn in his game.

Mindjack works in dingy jobs with filthy manipulative men in black markets and the human trafficking industry, criminals that broke every law in their way to get what they desire, so why couldn’t he indulge even a little himself?

He lets go of your wrists, watching as your arms sway next to your body like dead weight before he turns around to flop down on the loveseat, legs spread wide as he waves his hand over to you.

“Waddaya waitin’ for,” he knows you can’t answer him, but it feels so fucking good to hold such power over you after all you’ve put him through. “Now, strip.” the surge of power he feels jolts his dick up in excitement as he watches you take off your lingerie, moves robotic and forced, eyes glazed over both with tears and his control over your dumb little brain. Hitoshi is no villain, he is a respectable hero, but he’s been called that all his childhood, he might as well live up to that expectation, one way or another.

Shinso stands when you’re fully naked in front of him, long legs circling you and taking you all in, the back of his hand grazes your nipple and he all but groans as it pebbles at his touch. But god, he was nowhere near being done with you.

“Spread your legs for me on that bed,” he grins at the way you follow his orders even before he asks, “will ya?” you settle yourself on the bed before slowly dropping your weight on your back, hazy eyes staring up into the ceiling as your arms bring themselves down to circle the back of your knees, pulling them up close to your chest to expose yourself to him.

Shinso’s cock twitches in his pants again at the opportunity to just seath it into you without any warning, but he barely holds himself back, approaching your body and feeling himself salivating at the sight, what a sight it is, your pussy looking so fucking beautiful clenching over nothing, the sight tempting him to just dive his face right in to get a taste of your juices.

Taking off his suit jacket and rolling the sleeves of his shirt, Shinso presses his thumb to your clit, frowning when he notices how dry you are, of course you would be, he chuckles to no one, puckering his lip to spit right at the nub, watching it trail down to your clenching hole, the sight igniting a flame within him, he does it again, simply to watch your spit hide in your cunt, impatient to follow suit and bury himself in there.

His thumb is quick to draw circles with your clit, needing for your orgasm to wash over you quickly, eager for the things he’d do to you after he preps you enough to take him. The usual comforting silence is thick between you, no moans escaping your ajar mouth as your arousal seeps out of your pussy, he prods your hole with his finger to collect your nectar, smearing it across your clit again to rub even faster against it.

The only indication of you coming undone is when your thighs start to shake, your body curling in on itself as your back arches, your cunt gushing on his fingers, and Shinso is almost disappointed to not hear you moan out his name in pleasure. But he isn’t that disheartened, he’s bound to hear you scream.

You on the other hand, are petrified at the way your body is being handled, feeling yourself looking down at the horror being folded in front of you, this isn’t you, this is a shell of who you are, wrapped around his finger, at his mercy, and you want out, no matter the cost. But, you are to regret these words, because you see him unbuckling his belt, you hear the zipper drilling in your ear, and you watch him lay atop you, feeling your lungs constrict at the weight settling upon it, and to your utmost terror, the only thing that breaks his bind on you is when you feel his warm head prodding at your entrance, right before seething completely in, your throat prickling when you wail hoarsely in pain at feeling like being split into two.

“No, nonononon, st-stop please, please!” You’re crying, legs thrashing and arms flailing trying to push this monster off of you, but you can’t, you think as your walls pulsate in pain at the intrusion, you’ll never be able to with him placing his entire weight on you like that, and the way he pulls out before impaling you again has you seeing stars in the worst way possible. Desperate for an escape, you grab a chuck of his hair, your nails digging into his scalp before you yank, your jaw throbbing at how tight you clench your teeth in pain and disgust and pure panic. The strength you muster to pull his head up is in vain, because it only jerks his face deeper into your neck, right where your scar trails, and he bites, so hard you’re certain it draws blood.

Only then does he lift his head up, his upper lip smeared with a smidge of blood, your blood, before he spits right into your mouth. Sick to your stomach at the metallic taste invading your taste buds, you spit right up at him, mindless to the debris falling right back at your face, your mascara running down your cheeks as you sneer up at him. Even as he laughs teasingly at you.

“Don’t worry slut,” He rasps, his nose brushing against yours as his thrusts find a pace, pulling out to the tip before pushing himself fully inside, “It’ll feel good in a minute.” and it does, he feels more of your arousal coating his cock as he snaps his hips against yours, your wails and whimpers slowly yet surely are coated more with lust as you moan out his name. “See tha’, almost too easy…” almost too good to be true.

And it is, because when his eyes struggle to find yours, he is reminded by the feeling that overtook him this entire evening, and when he sees the corner of your lips pull lightly does he want to rip your head right out, but the minute he moves his hand, he is overwhelmed by how wobbly he feels, how your face distorts and misshapes before he is met with the sight of the ceiling, the sight you grew accustomed to when he was taking advantage of your unconsciousness.

He groans when he feels you impaling yourself on his cock, pussy clenching so tight as you bop yourself up and down his shaft, your tits bouncing with you as he looks up at you, so mesmerized and entranced by your beauty all he does is hold your hips, helping you lift yourself up before dropping you on him, the squelching sound that follows it music to his ears.

You plant your hands against his chest, hips rolling as you pant at his lips, both of you so drunk on the feeling of each other and chasing your highs, “You gonna listen to me, when I ask you to?” His hand claps against your ass at your question, “Yes, yes oh God, anythin’ just don’t stop.” He can’t help but want more of you, want to feel his cock push against you even further, so he plants his feet firm against the bed, hand grabbing handfuls of your ass as he starts thrusting up at you, moaning against your neck when he shoots ropes of his cum inside of your sopping cunt, squeezing him so tight and milking him, and all of what Shinso remembers is the way you arch your back, pressing your chest against his as your whimper out his name, as he feels your juices dripping against his balls and down on the sheets beneath you. After that, all he could see was black.

Shinso awakes startled, eyes darting in alarm before he relaxes when he confirms he’s alone, the red silky sheets now draped over his lower body, pooling at his lap when he sits up to look around once more, desperate for any sign of you. Yet he only sees a brown folder on top of the love seat, impressively thick with the amount of papers stacked inside it, and when Shinso reaches for it, he catches the note that slipped off and draped down on the floor, reading it and scowling at it. ‘You promised you’d listen’

And boy is he more than lucky to listen to you when you asked him to. Because that folder has every tiny little detail he needs to know about The Wise, from the quirks of his circulating bodyguards to the keys to his multiple homes within the world. Pictures upon pictures of the man, decoded letters and basically intel on his entire criminal record.

Fucking finally, Shinso gets to just go home no that everything’s over and done with.

Limited Edition Sneak Peek:

It is way too early for Shinso, the sun glaring at him as he makes his way into the agency, the honking cars and chattering people feeding into his migraine so early in the morning, and he groans as he pushes his door open, ready to get back to his regular routine after the incident at Vice City.

It hasn’t been even a week, but it sure was eventful, using the folder you left him, Mindjack was able to capture The Wise the very next day, via the map of the routes he takes that was attached in the folder. They were able to ambush him, easily being able to bring the right heroes for the job to overcome the quirks of both his workers and himself. Now the mastermind of Organization XIII was behind bars, making the job of catching the remaining members now much easier.

It almost felt like child’s play, at least, that’s what the heroes made it out to be, flexing their powers and their potential, when they were well aware that all their efforts would’ve been in vain if you and your folder weren't there to aid them in every step.

To say that guilt ate him up is an understatement, he feels himself decaying from the inside out from resentment, he figures he spent too much time in the dark, that it started to mess with him, manipulate him, carve him into someone he isn’t, someone that isn’t fit to be a hero. He feels like was walking into a tunnel with no way out, engulfed and trapped in pure merciless darkness, that ate away at his soul every step he took further in.

Shinso trudges up the stairs with a heavy heart, the dread at what he did to you, especially that your intent to help him didn’t waver despite his actions loomed over him, and he couldn’t remember the last time he felt like he didn’t deserve the life that he’s living in right now.

Yet, the saying ‘there's a light at the end of the tunnel’ rings in his ear, the minute he opens up the door to his office, eyes widening at the sight before him, smile so dazzlingly sweet, a voice just like silk, weaving around him and entrancing him as the words captivated him despite their simplicity.

“Missed me, Hitoshi?”

(1) its common in poker for women to be onlookers, like the wives of the players for example, the jab at him being an onlooker is basically just a sexist joke to make the people around the table laugh to ease their mind.

(2) to help gain more perspective about the poker scene you can read the elaboration here

Aaaand more about the reader’s quirk here!

Hope you enjoyed! Also, PLEASE if you could theorize with me after reading the fic I’d love you forever, ask me about the reader’s quirk, ask me about some hidden meanings between the scenes JUST ANYTHING. MWAH

Borrowers (taglist):

@hanji-is-life @anarchicmartyr @sleepykyan @yourprincess-maybe @wolfygirl1900 @tteokdoroki

@theehoneybunii @nanamisbento (not sure if you wanted to be tagged for bakuhoe only of all my fics, so sorry if its the former!)

if you want to be tagged with for any of my fics let me know ♡

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volleychumps · 3 years ago

Text

« Progressive Rivalry

Omg I love your blog 🥺 could I get a scenario or one shot with iwaizumi or Sakusa (or honestly any character you’d like!) where u run into each other at every tournament and it started out as a bitter rivalry but then they got rly worried bc u got hurt and they’re like “why do I care!?” Does that make sense? Ahaha 😅

~ just why do you keep running into the guy you hate most, especially when he equally hates your guts as well?

format: One-Shot

genre: fluff

- includes: Iwaizumi Hajime

Warning(s): swearing, slight mention of blood, enemies to lovers trope

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

“Oh look, my best friend’s here.”

“Fuck off.”

A sarcastic grin tickles your lips as you place a hand over your chest, pouting mock-affectionately as the dark haired spiker wipes at his sweaty neck with a damp towel. You adjust the gym bag on your arm as the rest of your team begins to warm up, already used to this turn of events.

“Aw, Iwa! You always manage to warm my cold, dead heart. If you have a crush on me, just say so. Are you some kind of stalker?”

“Hah? A stalker? You wish.” Iwaizumi stands as the red-headed one and popular brunette behind him stifle their amused laughter into their fists. “Who would like looking at your ugly mug all day?”

The spiker’s failed attempt to intimidate you with his height had your smile widening in challenge, the insult not hurting a bit. In fact, you lean a little closer, fake sniffing as if he had genuinely hurt your feelings.

“Yep. I definitely want this temperamental six year old in the body of a seventeen year old to show an ounce of interest in me. How’d you know?”

“How can I not show interest in things that perturb me?”

“So you are interested.” You wink. “Don’t hurt your pretty little head over using words that are too complicated for your brain.” You lean around him to shoot a sweet smile to his teammates, ignoring the flash of irritation across Iwa’s face.

“Issei, Oikawa, Hiro!” You flash a thumbs up, your pretty smile almost blinding. “You guys were cool.”

“Y/N-chan~ you’re such an angel!”

“Angel my ass.”

“Oh. You’re still here.” Your voice falls dejected as Iwaizumi gains an irk mark on his forehead. Glancing back at your team, you smile and wave at the other three. “Gotta go warm up, cheer for me!”

“Good luck!” Matsukawa calls after you, merely grinning when Iwaizumi shoots him an irritated stare.

“Not gonna wish the love of your life a good game?” Hanamaki questions, already beginning to walk off while smirking into his water bottle as his dark-haired friend merely scoffs. The teasing from his trio of “friends” wasn’t anything new.

“I don’t think that thing is capable of loving.”

“Yeah yeah, you love her, we get it.”

Iwaizumi groaned inwardly, sitting down tiredly on the bleachers to rest up as your team littered your side of the net. His jaw clenched when you offered him a lazy wave, kneeling slightly in your position as a libero.

There were many things Iwaizumi had could say about your character or even the irritating smile on your lips at his blatant annoyance, but he couldn’t deny how well your team mixed. Oikawa whistled lowly as Hanamaki absently mentions to Matsukawa about how the other team hardly stood a chance.

Iwaizumi blinks, feeling a pit of annoyance in his gut as the boys in the stands whistled at every save you made, the pit deepening even further at the smile you cast in their direction.

“You’ll get frown marks Iwa-Chan!”

“Shut the hell-”

“Oh shit! Y/N!”

Iwaizumi’s head whips back in the direction of your match at the sound of Hanamaki’s exclamation just in time for the collision.

And then his breath caught in his breath so abruptly he almost choked.

You clutched your ankle, teeth biting so deep into your lip so hard Iwa swore he could see a bead of blood as you withheld an obvious wail of pain. Your teammate knelt by your side with a hand clamped over her mouth in shock, Iwa being able to make out from your teammates’ panic that someone had accidentally shoved you so hard to the side you swore you heard your ankle snap in an attempt to stabilize yourself.

“Y/N-chan!”

“Is she okay?”

But Iwa wasn’t listening, all distaste for you seeming to drown out of his system as he wondered,

wondered why the hell he cared so much about the girl who tried her hardest to get under his skin. Your witty retorts, your wide grin, the softness of your irises, and the pang in his chest every time you jokingly bumped your shoulder against his in passing-

that same girl who’s cheeks were now shining with spilled tears causing him to rise to his feet.

“Oi Iwaizumi, where are you going?”

He didn’t spare a glance to your teammates as they silently made way for the wide-shouldered spiker, dark eyes assessing the damage as he bent down, swooping you up into his arms as if you hadn’t weighed a thing. He ignored the stares and wolf whistles from his team as he hurried out of the gym and in the direction of the infirmary towards the specialists who were trained for these events, heart tugging at the sound of your whimpers.

“I’ve had dreams about this.” You mumble, eyes clenched shut as tears built up on your closed eyelids, arms wrapping around his neck tighter as you buried your face in his neck. “Please be hot, that’s all I’m asking for.”

“You’re still joking at a time like this?” Iwa’s voice cracks at the proximity, wondering why on earth his chest was pounding in his ears as your eyes shot open. Immediately, you begin to squirm, your face heating up as Iwaizumi continues his hurried stride, barely sparing you a glance.

“You’re taking me?”

“No.”

“Don’t be sarcastic with me!”

Iwaizumi leans his head in the opposite direction, away from the volume of your voice, but he couldn’t stop the slight tilt of amusement on the right side of his lips as you seemed distracted by the obvious pain in your ankle. Mission successful.

He ignores your protests to set you down, frowning at your claims to wanting anyone else to have taken you. Even the brunette one.

“See, now that’s just plain insulting.” Iwa’s eyes narrow at you as he finally sets you down on one of the cots, about to walk off to find the doctor before a hand weakly tugs at the bottom of his jersey.

“....I think they’ll come soon. Can you...just stay? Just until they come?”

Iwaizumi blinked. Then blinked again.

Iwaizumi clears his throat, recovering from his shock before pulling up a stool and grabbing a nearby first aid kit. He tilted your chin up with his fingers, his gentle touch causing your cheeks to flare up as your eyes took on a vulnerable edge.

“Why do you hate me so much?” It was genuine curiosity, anything to alleviate the strange heaviness in his chest when he acknowledged that fact that you despised him so.

Your eyes widen at the sudden attack, wincing a little as the cotton pad dabs at your lips, soaked in alcohol. “Why do you?”

“I don’t hate you.”

“Oh-”

“I just think you’re annoying as hell.”

“Well I think that not a single thought goes on behind those pretty eyes.”

“So you think my eyes are pretty?”

The silence is heavy as you shake your head no quickly, causing Iwa to click his tongue and scold you to stay still as he keeps his eyes trained on your-

oh god he’s looking at your lips.

“Yes.” You’re almost whispering, shyly avoiding his widened gaze as you lean away from him.

He stumbles over his words at your direct response, unprepared for the way in which you lean a little further back, eyes nervous and not at all the sarcastic gleam he knows as he swallows back the lump in his throat.

“Well,” and then his hand is cupping the side of your face as he tugs you closer, confusion swirling in his head as his heart surges him forward, practically mumbling against your lips in a daze before he could stop himself.

“I think you’re prettier.”

He wanted to smirk at how he could practically see smoke puff out of your head.

“Even if you hate me?”

“I’m honestly not sure I ever did.”

The distance is closed by you, a hand coming up to run your fingers through his dark locks as his thumb strokes your cheek, lips moving feverishly together as you attempt to pull back-

If he let you go, would you go back to hating one another?

only for him to kiss you back even harder as if he was satiating some sort of hunger, a smile growing on your lips before a shot of pain shoots through your leg, bringing you back to reality as you whine against his lips. Iwaizumi gasps, ignoring your giggles and assuring words that you’re fine, carefully laying you down on your back while elevating your ankle.

“Y/N.”

“First name basis? Look at us skipping all the necessary steps.” you tug your hair out of it’s knot, attempting to redo it with a hair tie between your lips as the pain in your ankle falls to a dull throb.

“What did....are we...?”

“Does the Iwaizumi Hajime want to know if we’re a thing or not?” Your smile has his cheeks flushing, stare becoming irritated.

“Oi. Nevermi-”

“Yes, idiot. Now run along and fetch my things, will you?”

He rolls his eyes at your playful wink, ensuring your injured ankle was positioned properly before beginning to exit the infirmary-

“And Iwa?”

“What is it, doll?”

Your chest leaps at the nickname, Iwaizumi beginning to smirk at the change in expression on your face before you clear your throat.

“Thank you.”

It was one of the most sincere things you had ever said to him.

Your unexpected boyfriend kissed you on the lips a second time after a few strides, any confusion within him seeming nonexistent as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. The way you gazed up at him had his chest doing somersaults, wondering if you were both just denying the attraction you felt towards one another before fate took its turn.

“Nah, I should be thanking you.”

“For what?”

“Hurting your ankle-”

“Get out.”

Iwa’s feeling like an idiot with the lilt to his lips when the door slides shut and something hits the door where his head would have been, the slight smile fading back to his usual scowl at the sight before him.

His three friends had identical grins on their faces, Matsukawa holding a #1 fan balloon and Hanamaki decked out in merch from your school. He narrows his eyes at the bouquet of flowers tucked behind Oikawa’s back. All obviously from the themed store of the tournament.

Guess he didn’t need to worry about whether or not you would enjoy his idiotic friends’ company.

“So you're whipped. Didn’t see that one coming.”

“Whatever.”

“Iwa, where are you going?”

“...to go get her things.”

“You so love her.”

“Shut the hell up and don’t enter her room until I get back.”

It was only when the dark-haired spiker turned the corner, looking behind and in front of him before his back hits a nearby wall as he attempts to calm his heartbeat, swearing he had never felt such a wild surge of energy through his veins as his lips tingled with the taste of you. He sighs, touching the hair tie that he stole from you when he kissed you a second time from within his pocket, wondering just when his hatred melted into the exact opposite.

He was so whipped.

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Hi all! How are you lovelies doing? I’m going to be on here more often, thank you for 9k and your patience with me has helped me so much! This was one of my requests that I wanted to use to slide back into the swing of things, so I hope you enjoyed! <3

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