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dracosathenaeum · 4 years ago

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Great Love Story | Final Part | DM

#A/N: Apologies for the long wait, with what went down the other night and overall writers block this took far longer than I expected. I hope this is a satisfying ending for everyone who’s been reading so far!! Let me know what you thought of it overall!! Also this chapter is dedicated to @slytherinwh0re and Voldemort’s feet :3

Warnings: swearing, violence, food, mentions of strangling and sex

Word Count: 2,781

PART 1 | PART 2

Waking up alone in that empty bed had perhaps been worse than when Draco had broken up with you. You had left his room that time thinking he had left you because he had lost all feelings for you. This time, he had left even though you knew of his true feelings, feelings that he couldn’t hide. Jealousy was never easy to hide for Draco, but luckily for you it just showed that he still cared for you.

You had spent days after he had left you with nothing but second thoughts in your head, debating with yourself whether or not he was worth it. You could’ve walked away and let that last night be a mistake, leave it to be the final moment of closure between the two of you (if you could even call it closure).

But no, learning from mistakes apparently wasn’t an option for you.

You just wanted the truth, was what you told yourself as you wrapped a green tie around your neck; not revenge, just the truth.

“Remember all you have to do is walk past Draco and smile at me from across the hall a couple times. He’ll be able to connect the dots from that alone.”

The older Slytherin looked at you with a smirk on his face, “If I knew all I had to do was swap ties with you and walk past Malfoy to have someone do my potions essay for me I would’ve offered my services years ago.” You had been lucky enough to have found (bribed) someone to help you pull the truth from Draco, even if you weren’t too fond of the person himself. You were up for playing the long game though you doubted Draco could resist interfering before long.

You ran your fingers through his soft locks, ruffling them up a little before unbuttoning both of your top buttons to make it seem more realistic. “You know, if you wanted to make it authentic, we could just actually get with each other? I wouldn’t mind rubbing it in Malfoys face that I got with his girl.”

Retracting your hands from his shirt, you grimaced, “This is enough, thank you Adrian.” You were only being polite since he was helping you out; the second you no longer needed him you would make sure he knew you’d never be interested in him.

“Come on, before they all finish eating before we’ve even gone in.” You walked into great hall, head held high and hand gripped in a clammy hold. As much you had hated how Draco’s hands had always been cold, you suddenly found yourself missing them greatly.

You let go of his hand and the both of you walked your separate directions but that was all you needed. You sat down with your friends and watched as Theo pointed out your tie and then the person who had yours. You didn’t even both keeping your gaze on their table for Draco’s reaction, something would come sooner or later.

“y/n, uh, are you sure this is a good idea? I know if sucks, but he’s clearly moved on, I don’t think making him jealous will work when he looks at Pansy like that.”

He hadn’t told you he loved you the other night, nor had he let you say it, but his love language was never with words. The way he held you, the careful touches and well-placed kisses, those were what made you believe there was still hope, and if not, at least an actual explanation rather than fucking you into the oblivion only to leave you before the sun was awake.

You knew he loved you still, but perhaps there were now two in his heart. Your eyes wondered back to the Slytherin table, expecting him to be glaring holes into the side of your head or arguing with the boy who had your tie around his neck, but no. He had his eyes trained on Pansy’s eyes, his fingers playing with a strand of her perfect hair. Grace was right, you had no chance when he was looking at Pansy with stars in his eyes. Though perhaps that was your answer itself. Your plan had been perfect, you had just executed it around the wrong people.

He had fucked up once, he wasn’t about to do so again; not when the stakes were so high. His one moment of jealousy causing him to lose control had only furthered his resolve to not do so again. It simply wasn’t worth the risk.

He would only take partial blame though, his twit of a partner clearly wasn’t as sneaky as she had claimed to be, one slip up each was already more than allowed and although they both knew, it seemed only Draco was taking it seriously.

Talking to Pansy had been less than helpful, “She could’ve joined in.” being her only response, her red painted lips curling into a smile that made something in his stomach tighten. Perhaps he was the fool to expect more from her.

Her shortcomings and the disappointment he felt of his own lack of self-control had perhaps been the only thing to stop him from punching the shit eating grin off the rat who you had decided to use to pull a reaction from him.

He had been with you just three nights ago and he knew you, knew you inside and out. The hickeys on your neck were his marks and all 3 of you knew that; swapping ties with some poor sucker and ruffling his hair wasn’t going break him. Not by a long shot.

It had taken him everything that night outside the room of requirement to not push you in and take you until you remembered you could only feel that way for him, yet he had managed to spit out the word whore and swallow the instant regret, grimacing at the memory of your palm striking his face.

He had done all that to have his weak heart ruin it when he found you with Theo.

He had almost ruined everything.

But yet again his weak, traitorous heart failed him when he found himself with his fist across someone’s face.

You had kept your eyes trained on the food in front of you to prevent the temptation of causing yourself any more pain, instead working your brain on how best to get Draco alone and on how best to procure some veritaserum (was that even legal?).

Throwing back the last of your pumpkin juice, you gave a quick goodbye to your friends before you all but ran to the library in attempts to look for some answers. Well you had tried getting to the library; you had been barely halfway through the great hall when Adrian had seemingly appeared from thin air, his hand on your upper arm pulling you to a stop.

“So when do I get my compensation for this favour?”

You didn’t know what it was, but the way he looked and spoke to you had the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. He had leant in, warm puffs of air blowing across your ear as he spoke to you. Not the kind that had you melting in Draco’s arm, but the kind that had you wanting to turn and run, but his bruising hold on your arm wasn’t about to let that happen.

“The Slytherin prince looks like he’s about to murder me, I think I deserve more than an essay. Let me fuck you and we’ll call it even.”

The joy in your chest from hearing that your plan had worked was quickly replaced with the most revoting feeling, you physically gagged and wondered why no one intervened as you had physically recoiled from him. Draco may not have been many people’s first picks, you wouldn’t try to hide his faults, but he at least had some respect and dignity.

Your mouth fell open, not sure if you should slap him across the face or swear at him until he got the point.

“The audacity-”

“If I ever see you within 100 meters of her again, I’ll make sure you’ll never be able to fuck again.” Yet again another Slytherin has seemingly appeared from thin air, cutting off you off before you could even say what you wanted to say. Adrian had been smart enough to let go of you the second he had heard Draco’s voice, but it didn’t make up for the fact he had been stupid enough to act.

You strode out the doors of the great hall as soon as you remembered how to use your legs, catching Draco’s his fist connecting with Adrian’s face out of the corner of your eye; the sickening crack of the collision was enough to bring a smile back on your face. That and the fact Draco had yet again shown his true colours, now you just needed to know why he was hell bent on hiding them and hurting you both.

You hadn’t realised how lost in your own thoughts you had been in until you found yourself in the courtyard with a blonde Ravenclaw waving happily at you.

“Hi y/n! Isn’t it beautiful out today? I wanted to take Pansy on a picnic, but you understand why that’s not quite possible yet.” You hadn’t expected to run into Luna so soon, though you avoiding her out of sheer embarrassment had definitely been a major factor of that.

“You’re okay being the ‘other woman’? Luna you deserve so much more than that.” The two of you weren’t particularly close (other than when you had seen her being sent to heaven by Pansy’s fingers), but she felt an obligation like any other person might’ve.

“Other woman? I thought Pansy said you two had made up again? They're just faking it for you-know-who. I guess Draco had to be stricter since he has his secret task, but it’s odd he’s taking so long to tell you.”

You blinked. You remembered how to breathe again and then the anger came.

“I have to go but thank you Luna, I owe you.” You didn’t have time to come up with a speech or a plan, you would just find him and do whatever your impulses led to.

You were going to make him repent for every second lost, for every ounce of heart ache you felt and then you’d have him beg for you, if you managed to not strangle him first that was.

You ended up pounding on the doors to the dungeons when he had been nowhere else. With each place you searched resulting with him not being there, your anger built, the frustration worse than it had ever been.

“Jeez woman, is someone dead?”

“No but with that look it looks like someone’s about to be.”

The doors had opened revealing a far too happy Pansy and Theo, clearly enjoying how mad you seemed to be. You didn’t waste a second, pushing past the both of them to see Draco sat casually on one of the leather sofas, clearly bragging about how he had just punched Adrian.

“You had no right!”

As if it wasn’t enough that The Dark Lord was walking around his home barefoot and threatening his family’s lives; his ex-girlfriend was now going to kill him. Well, he’d rather die by her hands than his any day.

“You still haven’t told her?” You hadn’t even heard Pansy come up behind you, hand coming to rest on your shoulder. For everyone else it seemed like a jealous ex-girlfriend causing drama, a sharp look from Draco had sent everyone scrambling as he mumbled a silencing charm under his breath.

“If you want me to apologise for punching Pucey, I would rather you slap me again.” He was still lying to you. Your hands curled around his collar, pulling him up from his casual lounging across the sofa.

“Luna told me everything. You had no right to make that kind of decision for me. Who else knew?” You watched as the colour drained from his face, you turned to see Pansy, Theo and Blaise quickly avert their gazes. The three of them clearly thought they would be watching you shout at Draco for punching Adrian as they quickly found other places to be once they realised your true intentions.

“Can we actually talk now without you running off with your so-called girlfriend who has been dating another woman and without you only paying attention to me when you deem necessary?” Draco had slumped back onto the green leather, hand dragging over his face as he refused to meet your gaze again, the expression on his face a far cry from what it had been just moments ago.

“I can’t explain everything to you. Can you just trust that I’m doing what’s best for you? For us.”

If his voice hadn’t been so shaky, if his body hadn’t trembled like is had when he was 13 as you held him against you as he cried about the passing of his grandfather, you might not have decided to not push further.

So Harry was right, though some part of you had always known, after all in what world would Harry Potter make something like that up. You had just deluded yourself into thinking Draco wouldn’t be dragged into it. “I know Draco. You don’t have to say anything you can’t, but I know.”

His eyes whipped up to meet yours, clearly not expecting that response from you. You looked at him with the same fierce gaze he loved and for a second he thought you’d slap him again.

He thought you’d hit him and run or even worse, you’d stay.

“If this wasn’t the best possible option, I wouldn’t have chosen it, you have to understand that. It was better than the alternative of losing you and my parents. Do you know what he does to people? Do you know how he tears them apart? How he would rip your mind into shreds and then leave you with just enough life to watch him do the same to everyone else you care about.”

You stayed silent; you hadn’t thought about the bigger the picture this whole time, focusing only on you and your insignificant feelings.

“I refuse to put you at risk. If I had to make a choice; if I had to choose between saving you or my parents, I don’t know who I’d choose and that terrifies me. I can lose you and try to move on or find you again, but I can’t abandon my parents without signing their death warrants.” His words hurt. There was no masking that, but you knew he was right, he was making the most logical decision and you could not fault him for it, no matter how much your heart objected.

You just looked at him for a tense second, your brain trying to piece together what to say and what to think. Life had not prepared you for this moment.

“But the way you looked at her-“

“Looked at who?”

“Pansy.”

“I was imagining you.”

Your cheeks flushed with warmth, unsure if it was embarrassment, relief or anger. His fingers reached for yours, the familiarity of his wrapped around yours loosened the ball of nerves in your stomach just a little.

“Okay. Go.”

“What?” His fingers tightened their grip on your hand.

“I’ll wait until after the war; but you better find yourself on the right side. Just stay alive and I’ll find you.”

“And if I’m in Azkaban?” a voice so small you almost didn’t hear it.

“I don’t believe you could do anything horrific enough to end up in Azkaban; but even so, you better make some right choices because you hold our future in your hands Malfoy.”

He looked at you as though you had gone mad, and frankly you might’ve. After all, who would wait for their ex-boyfriend after finding out they were a death eater?

“You cannot be serious.”

“I would wait a lifetime for you.”

It had been those very words that had given him hope, something he didn’t think he would ever have again after taking the mark. He had not convinced his father to reconsider and that was something he would have to live for the rest of his life; but he had his mother. A mother’s love would prove yet again to be a saving grace.

The two of you may not have rebuilt what you had until years after, but when it came to making that all important choice, he had chosen the right one.

TAGLIST: @bbeauttyybbx @pipppaaaaalouisee @theslytherinprincessworld @fangirl-3d2y @tttyrus @scriptingslytherin @justmimithings @purpleskymalfoy @minigigglybabi @505weasleys @secretaccshh @obbrssession @whatwoulddracodo @thatoneniceslytherin @thehumanistsdiary @mariah-can-dream @futureofanthropology @ccabian @tobarmaidswhodontcount @dray-cookies @xuckduck @dreamyginny @dracofeltonmalfoy @lord-byron @inglourious-imagines @audreythehufflepuff @beiahadid @moonlightorbit @imonlyherecauseimbored @dracosgoodgirl @dreaming-about-fanfictions @goldenxreid @avengers-end-me @sad-bitch-h0ur @zhangyixingxing1 @yourenotafailureoverall @pastelpuffbar @miso-tang @pixiedustsupplyco @harry-and-draco-loves @tsukibaby @dracoswhore007 @hogwartslut @mischiefisbeingmanaged @raylovessarcasm @drxcomvlfx @dracosballs @standingandstaring @its-chickenwing-450 @iamproudtobeaslytherin @mischiefisbeingmanaged @pxroxide-prinxcesss @slytherinxraven @jinnbie @lunalovegoodsgirlfriend @Utzelh8 @gloryekaterina @capkatie @jquick-18 @imcedricdiggorys @osterfieldnholland @explxsion @big-galaxy-chaos @malfoycrave @softlyqoos @krazykendraisnotinsane @minsuuwu @lumlfy @mllzhxrrs44 @weasleyis0urking @slytherinwh0re @gwlvr @m3ssytrash @aubreyanna02 @akaaaaashiiii @carrobrumbrum @dracoswift @bitchybeatle @samnblack @dumspirospero-1 @dracomalfoyswifeee @sydnee-kom-spacekru

Those who asked for part 3!: @dracoxmgg @em2604 @gabiconstellation @azkabanlexi @indieslytherin @sushiims @sincerlymalfoy

#Draco x reader #draco malfoy #harry potter #Draco Malfoy x reader #draco x y/n #Draco Malfoy x y/n #Draco Malfoy one shot #draco one shot

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deewithani · 4 years ago

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Raindrops in the Wind - Chapter 1

Chapter Rating: G

Work Rating: Explicit (18+)

Pairing: Jango Fett x F!Reader

Word count: Approx. 2k

Warnings: None. Jango being sneaky?

A/N: Not Canon or Legends friendly. AU from the very beginning. Bits and pieces from here and there, molded to fit my grand vision, muahahaha *coughs*. Anyway... Chapters will list their individual ratings, work is rated Explicit (18+) for eventual explicit content.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

'What have I done?'

The words rang hollow in his ear as he fought with the Jedi that had shown up at his door. He hated the man, truly. He hated that he showed up on Kamino. He hated that he started to ask questions. He hated that he was a Jedi.

He hated Jedi.

It was not supposed to be like this. He was supposed to provide his DNA to the long-necks whenever they needed it and help train their creation. In return he got an unaltered clone. A son. A safe place to raise him. Enough credits to live very comfortably for the rest of his days. And the knowledge that an army was being raised that would destroy the Jedi.

'I should have left well enough alone. I shouldn't have taken that bounty.'

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

It was a good deal, he thought to himself, the offer that this 'Lord Tyranus' placed before him. He would be stupid to pass it up, and Jango Fett was anything but stupid. It would give him what he always wanted, a son, to carry on his lineage, and a hefty purse full of credits, no questions asked. No, he was not stupid. He knew very well who this 'Lord Tyranus' was that stood before him. It was the very same Jedi that helped bring the defeat of the True Mandalorians, Count Dooku. All Jango truly wanted from the exchange was an unaltered clone that he could raise as a son, and Tyranus quickly agreed.

At the time, Jango didn't know that he and Dooku shared the same end game, the destruction of the Jedi order. All Jango knew was that Dooku was no longer friendly with the order, having abandoned them, publicly declaring their corruption before the galaxy. He figured he could sus out the real reason behind Dooku's job easily enought once he was on Kamino and around others he could manipulate into revealing the truth.

In all honesty, it wasn't very hard at all to figure out much of what was going on. The Kaminoans were ecstatic about the new contract they had scored to provide the Galactic Republic with millions of perfect soldiers. They poked and proded at Jango daily for his DNA and openly discussed his own physical shortcomings like they were no matter at all, as if they were simply ink marks on a piece of flimsi, mistakes that could be erased and fixed with no bearing on the final product. They were open with this being a request from the Jedi Master Sifo-Dyas, which made no sense to Jango, as he had been hired by 'Tyranus', who most certaily wasn't Syfo-Dyas – whoever they were. He thought maybe this Jedi was also fed up with the Order, and was looking to make a strike back, but solid information on this Jedi was slim..

In any case, very little of the entire job was making sense to Jango. Why was a former Jedi Master, whether it was Dooku or Sifo-Dyas didn't matter at this point, paying for the creation of a clone army for the very Order and Republic that they abhored?

Jango continued on, day after day, providing DNA to the Kaminoans, gathering trusted allies to begin the training of the clones that were still growing in their tubes, and listening and obtaining information from any corner of Tipoca City he could. He set the Cuy'val Dar to the tasks of creating a sound, well-rounded training regiment, and on an information gathering mission, telling them to “Listen to everything anyone says. Every single word. Kaminoans, humans, anyone else. I don't care if they're talking about the next shipment of Jogan fruit. I want to know every word. Bring it to me.”

Jango spent hours every day, pouring over intelligence reports, but most of what was gathered was mundane. Lama Su had tea alone this afternoon, did you hear that we're supposed to have a break in the rain next week, the butcher is overcharging for nerf again. The every day gossip and gripes of a bored populace stuck on a perpetually wet and miserable planet. But Jango was nothing if not patient. The cloners told him that he should expect to be working with them for decades, so he decided to settle in and be patient. What he wanted to know would come to him. He would hear it directly from one of the longnecks themselves, or one of the Cuy'val Dar would hear it in passing and report it to him. He would know the true reason he was there. He would know the reason for the creation of the clones.

An unreal amount of credits has been pumped into this project, more than he thought was necessary, to be honest. Jango's bank account is overflowing with credits, and he hadn't had to touch a single one. He'd been provided with his own apartment, furnished with everything he requested. His Cuy'val Dar were paid directly by the client, the same as he was, and were paid a hefty premium too. Whispered word through the cloners was that this project was revitalizing their entire industry, allowing them the financial means to work on the perfection of not just his genetic material, but the genetics of hundreds of other species, not all of them sentient. Factories were starting up for the creation of armor and weaponry, the potable food industry was pushing out rations as quickly as they could be rolled down the assembly line, and tech companies were building holopads and coms as fast as they could get the chips and circuitry to do so. And it was all possible by the injection of credits from 'Lord Tyranus'.

He knew, also, that the Kaminoans were planning on “double-dipping” the Republic when the time came, and was nearly certain all the other industries that had already been paid hefty retainer fees would do the same. There was no shame in getting your due, but it was more of the pervasive corruption that Dooku saw that was eating away at the Galactic Republic, everyone had their hands out, pressing for more and more credits from any party they could. He heard the longnecks complaining that the Armorers had already been paid to purchase enough plastoid to manufacture 250,000 full sets of armor and had already received at least half of their full payment for the total manufacturing cost itself, but they had already began sending invoices to Kamino for the purchase of the armor at standard price, as if they were coming out of their own pocket on the project. Whether or not any of it was true was anyone's guess, but the single bit of information he heard from all corners was that the Kaminoans were not going to lose a single credit from this project, no matter who they had to charge for services. He could hardly blame them, their only true industry was cloning, and a project of this magnitude was going to take nearly their entire industry to support it. If anything went wrong, if anyone double charged them and they covered it with just a promise of later pay that never came through it could ruin their entire economy. So the decision was made to pass on the cost of everything to the Republic, in full for each batch ordered, because even with a hefty bankroll the bank could run dry very quickly. If everything went according to plan their cash flow would be enormous, but they were experts in searching out and fixing “problems” and they were not so naive to believe everything would go according to plan.

And so it went. Years passed, clones were trained, bounties were picked up, and Jango's unaltered clone, his son, began to grow into a fine young man - smart, capable, and hopefully well prepared for anything life would throw at him. Jango knew the galaxy was a rough place, and he was determined to make sure Boba had the tools he needed to survive – and survive easily. During his free time he trained him, harder than he trained the clones who would go off to war, running through close combat scenarios, teaching infiltration and stealth tactics, weapons proficiency, common language tutoring, sharpshooting, general maintenance on anything from blasters to air cooling units. Anything that he believed would give Boba a leg up on the competition – and anything to help him stay alive. He would take Boba with him on hunts too, giving him hands-on experience that he just wouldn't get sparring and running through drills.

The most important lesson Jango would gift to Boba was to trust no one but himself and his family, and to always keep his ears and eyes open for anything “strange”. Strange, of course, could have multiple meanings, but Jango trusted that Boba understood the complexities of all the things “strange” could include. Knowledge and information are as good as credits in hand, and in many cases could be much more valuable than beskar itself, buying the owner of said information freedom and power, if it was valuable enough, of course. And on one rather normal day, as normal as it goes on Kamino, anyway, Boba brought Jango some very valuable information.

While Jango tolerated the Kaminoans, as it was unfortunately necessary, Boba didn't really mind them one way or the other, having grown up around them for the entirety of his young life. So when it came time for Boba's yearly checkup during his 9th year, he didn't think twice to let the boy go on his own. The Kaminoans had always accepted his request for non-Kaminoan involvement in his son's healthcare, so they always ensured he was seen by a medical droid. He didn't suspect this year would be different. In any case, Boba knew to deflect any questions and leave if his request wasn't honored. Dislike them though he did, the longnecks never went back on their promises to him. This would make a good, safe, learning experience for Boba, and Jango instructed him to bring back as much as he could remember about everything, to train him in situational awareness and help him learn how to observe without being observed.

Later that day, after he had seen and cleared, Boba was eager to tell Jango about his checkup. He returned to their apartment, his adolescent energy barely contained, itching to run through the door and let his new secret loose, because something strange did happen at this appointment. He was prepared to give his report to Jango, and he was sure his dad would be proud of what he had learned.

“Dad!”, Boba called out, “I need to tell you about my checkup! It's important!” From his seat in the living area Jango raised an eyebrow, watching Boba try and fail to keep from bouncing on the balls of his feet. “C'mere, son, tell me about your checkup.” Boba walked forward, head held high and mischievous glint in his eyes. ”You told me to watch for anything strange. Something strange happened! There was a woman there today. A human woman! Told me she was training!”

“Good job, Boba. Go on then, clean up for dinner. You can tell me everything else then.” Jango watched as Boba's grin grew even wider, before he turned and ran to the 'fresher.

'Well, that is strange', Jango mused to himself, as he began to formulate his plan. It was time to see if he could gain some real information from this new player. Jango was nothing if not patient, and this may be the time for his patience to start paying off.

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Taglist: @latenightsthoughtsnstuff @return-of-the-simp

If anyone wants added to my taglist, let me know ☺️

#jango fett x reader #star wars au #star wars fanfiction #order 66 au

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sfb123 · 4 years ago

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Sapere Aude - Part 10

Book: The Royal Heir

Pairing: King Liam Rys x Queen Riley Brooks

All characters belong to Pixelberry.

Catch Up Here

Series Description: I developed a theory of what I think will happen in TRH Book 4, and I was encouraged by some very lovely people to turn my theory into a fic, so here it is. Basically, Riley is recruited to join the Via Imperii, this series will follow her as she joins them to try and bring them down from the inside, and all of the drama and bombshells she learns along the way. Sapere Aude is Latin for “dare to know” it seemed like an appropriate title.

Rating: PG-13 Adult language, allusions to smut (but nothing graphic), discussions of death, conspiracy, blackmail, and other adult themes.

Warning: The Royal Heir Book 3 Spoilers all over the place.

Disclaimer: I have no current affiliation with any other Via Imperii themed stories. Any claims that I have pre-read anything are false.

Word Count: 2,759

A/N: Sorry for the wait, I’m not going to keep broadcasting my self-loathing bullshit, but I’ve been having a hell of a time in my life. I’m working my way out of it thanks to a stellar support system (shout out @jessiembruno and @txemrn for being the Tumblr pieces to that puzzle). I’m also now up to 3 friends that are pregnant, which means I have 3 baby blankets to knit in the next 6 months, so that’s something that will be taking up a bit of my time. But I promise you more stories are coming, as well as some kind of ending to this story. I’ve hit the awkward place that I’ve feared since I started writing Sapere Aude; where I know where I want it to go, but I’m not quite sure how to get there. I’ll figure it out though, I promise, just bear with me.

As always, big ups to @twinkleallnight for my awesome moodboard!

Tags: My tag list angels are all listed below. Let me know if you’d like to be added or removed.

It was the day of the Royal Council meeting, Liam and Drake were planning to take this opportunity to work with Olivia in outfitting Riley with a camera or recorder for her next interaction with the Via Imperii. Mara had informed her of an upcoming meeting, which she was going to use as her opportunity.

Liam was trying to keep his focus on the task at hand, destroying this group, instead of all of the information he had learned about them, and what they had done to him. The thing that made that difficult was the constant reminder of his betrayal and loss, in the form of his brother, who was still charged with guarding Eleanor. He and Bastien had decided that it would be too much of a risk to reassign him, or remove him from the guard entirely. The timing would, no doubt, tip them off that Riley had said something, and he was not about to put that target on his wife’s back. He was hoping he would get used to being around Thomas, but a part of him knew he would not be fully at peace with the situation, at least not without being able to confront him.

He also knew that Olivia was going to need to be brought up to speed. This meant that he would need to go through everything all over again, and he was dreading it. As he stood in front of his mirror, adjusting his tie, he was planning out the best ways to have this conversation. A look of concern clearly etched in his face, Riley noticed it the second she stepped into the room.

“Hey, you’ve been getting dressed for an awfully long time. Are you doing alright?” She walked up behind him, taking him out of his thoughts. She knew he wasn’t, but he needed to tell her that, the last thing he needed was to feel cornered into talking about things.

He exhaled deeply before turning and wrapping his arms around Riley’s waist. “Yes, just going over the plan for today.”

“And figuring out how you’re going to get through reliving everything when you tell Olivia what’s going on?” She arched an eyebrow.

“Am I ever going to be able to get anything past you?” He smiled, placing a hand on her cheek.

“Nope, never. I can read you like a book, Your Majesty.” She tapped her index finger to his nose, taking a brief pause to enjoy the sound of the soft chuckle that escaped him. “Maybe I can help. Olivia and I are having lunch before the meeting, I can fill her in on everything, then you and Drake can just work with her on the techy stuff.”

“You don’t have to do that, Riley.”

“No, you’re right, I don’t have to, but it will help you, so I want to.”

Liam pressed a lingering kiss to her lips. “Thank you, love.”

A few hours later, Riley sat on the terrace waiting for Olivia to arrive. She had Bastien perform a full sweep of the area to ensure that their conversation remained between them. Part of her hoped it would be easier to explain everything this time. After all, she had already explained everything three times. Then she remembered the hardest part of this whole thing, it wasn’t telling people what was going on, it was seeing their reactions. She was, one by one, breaking the hearts of all of the people closest to her. While Olivia had already made peace with the shortcomings of her parents, she was about to learn the truth about what happened to her best friend’s mother. Not only was she with Liam when he lost her, seeing his heartbreak first hand, but Eleanor had taken Olivia in when she lost her parents, she took care of her as if she were her own mother. Better than her own mother, she showed Olivia love and kindness, things that her mother taught her to be weaknesses.

As Olivia approached the table, Riley stood to greet her with a smile. Olivia was instantly suspicious. It had been a few weeks since the pair had seen each other, usually when that was the case, Riley would charge her and wrap her in a hug. An action that Olivia would begrudgingly reciprocate.

“What’s wrong?” Olivia stood in front of her place at the table, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Good to see you too, Liv. Why would you think something is wrong?”

Olivia rolled her eyes before continuing, “Because you’re standing there smiling like the queen. You didn’t run up to me greeting me with that annoying sing-song voice.”

“I’m smiling like the queen because I am the queen, and this is how I smile.” Riley feigned offense. “Maybe I’m just maturing as a person.”

“You sent me a video the other day of cats pushing things off of counters.”

“Oh yea, that was hilarious! Cats can be real je--” She stopped when Olivia arched her brow in a silent ‘I told you so’. “Alright fine, I have to fill you in on some things.”

Once they sat, Riley filled Olivia in on everything that had happened since the Harvest Ball. The recruitment, the meeting, and all of the information she had learned along the way. As difficult as it was, Olivia remained silent while Riley spoke. She wanted to make sure to get every piece of information that was being thrown at her.

“So that’s why Liam scheduled a meeting with you when the council lets out. He and Drake are going to speak with you about cameras and recorders that I can sneak in with me to get some evidence.” There was a silence between the two while Olivia processed the information.

Olivia took a deep breath before speaking. “How is he handling all of this?”

“I mean, you know Liam. He’s keeping it inside and not really talking about it. And when he does, he’s blaming himself.” Riley shrugged. One of the things she loved about him was how much he cared about everyone else, but it was also one of his most frustrating traits. He was always too worried about those around him to properly take care of his needs, and would often blame himself for things he had no control over.

“That sounds about right.” Olivia’s expression softened. “He took it so hard when his mother died. He was so broken.”

“And now, it’s like he’s losing her all over again, but so much worse, because he’s questioning everything about himself.” Riley could feel the emotion building up inside of her.

Olivia smiled sadly as she reached across the table and placed her hand over Riley’s. “It will take time, he’ll get past it, and you’re going to be a big part of that.”

Riley nodded, taking a moment to compose herself. “So, you’ll help right?”

“You’ve been through a lot the last couple of days, so I’m going to let that ridiculous question slide.”

Riley sat a little lower in her seat and raised her glass to her lips before mumbling out a ‘thank you’.

The pair finished their lunch, and made their way to the council meeting. Liam was waiting by the door, greeting the members as they entered. Riley approached first, placing a chaste kiss on his lips before taking her place next to him. As Olivia approached, an uncharacteristically sympathetic look spread across her face before she leaned in, kissing Liam on the cheek and bringing him into a brief hug. As they pulled away, they looked at each other and nodded, and Olivia continued into the room.

Liam wrapped his arm around Riley’s waist and kissed her on the temple before returning his attention to the council members that were still arriving. Though it didn’t seem like much, Liam knew exactly what that greeting meant, and it was just what Liam needed from his childhood friend.

As the members of the council cleared out of the room, Riley and Liam found a corner where they could have a moment to themselves. “That went well, they really seemed to like your new proposal.” Riley smiled, smoothing her hands over the lapels of Liam’s jacket.

“I’m very excited to move forward with it.” He brushed a loose hair out of her face, placing a kiss on the newly exposed spot on her forehead. “Will you be joining us for our meeting?”

“No, I’m going to pick up Eleanor and take her outside to play. You guys need some privacy. Just make sure that if it’s wearable, you pick something cute.” She reached up and kissed him on the nose.

Liam gave an over exaggerated gasp, placing a hand over his chest. “Riley Rys, have you ever known me to give you something that wasn’t of the utmost caliber of cute?”

“Hmm let me think, cute outfits, cute jewelry, cute baby,” she pondered, placing her forefinger over her lip as she looked up at him and raised an eyebrow, “cute husband. Nope, you’re right, you’ve given me the cutest everything since day one.”

He laughed and pulled her close, pressing his lips to hers.

“Alright, break it up. You’re adults in charge of an entire country, you can’t keep being late for stuff because you were making out.” Drake interrupted the pair, who pulled away blushing slightly.

“We’re the king and queen, we’re never late, everyone else is just early.” Riley teased before looking up at Liam. “We really should get going though.

Riley kissed Liam softly and gave Drake a hug before walking out of the room. Liam watched her exit before turning to his friend. “Let’s get Olivia and head upstairs.”

When they entered the Royal Quarters, Liam signaled for Olivia and Drake to sit on the couch before he took a seat on the chair adjacent to them. “Olivia, I appreciate your time this afternoon. I understand Riley filled you in on the situation.”

“She did. How are you doing?” She paused, looking over to Drake. “Both of you.”

Drake knitted his brows in confusion. “Since when do you give a fuck about feelings...or me, for that matter?”

“Listen Drake, we’ve had our...differences over the years, but I know how it feels to be betrayed by your family. That isn’t something I would wish on even my worst enemy.” Olivia had a kindness in her voice that neither of the men expected.

“Oh, well thanks. I’m alright. Liam really got hit with the brunt of it though.” Drake turned to the chair, he was also hoping to hear Liam’s answer. He hadn’t spoken much about everything since that initial meeting.

Liam looked between his childhood friends, the two people in this world that knew him almost as well as Riley did, he knew that they wouldn’t let him get away with brushing the question off. He exhaled and wiped his hand over his face before responding. “It has been difficult, I have a lot that I still need to process. I cannot fully process everything without confronting Thomas, and possibly Eleanor. Which I clearly cannot do until this has been resolved. Riley would be exposed, I can’t put her in danger like that. My focus right now is making sure she is safe, and that we end this. That’s where you come in, Olivia.”

“Of course, talk to me about what kind of information you are looking to gather. We can go from there.”

They spent the next few hours talking about what kind of information they were hoping to collect, what Olivia had for equipment, and what she could get without causing suspicion from outside parties. They settled on an audio recorder embedded in a button that could be sewn into one of Riley’s existing blouses, along with a retractable pen that doubled as a camera, taking still shots every time the top was clicked. This would, not only, allow Riley to get the devices into the meeting, but it would enable Olivia to easily have everything delivered from Lythikos to the palace.

As their meeting wrapped up, Riley and Eleanor walked through the door. As soon as Eleanor saw Olivia on the couch, she broke into a sprint. “Auntie!”

Olivia raised her hand before Eleanor could make it all the way to the couch. “Eleanor, what did I teach you about running?”

She stopped dead in her tracks, pausing to remember. “Running is for the weak.”

Olivia nodded. “Very good, now approach like the princess you are, and greet your aunt properly.”

Eleanor carefully approached Olivia, stopping when she got directly in front of her. “Hello, Auntie Olivia.”

“That’s better.” Olivia reached out and pulled Eleanor into her lap, giving her a hug.

Drake leaned in behind Olivia’s back and whispered in Eleanor’s ear, “You. Me. Maze tag. After Auntie Olivia leaves.” Eleanor covered her mouth and giggled.

“I heard that Walker.” Olivia turned around, staring Drake down. “She is going to be the Queen of Cordonia one day, there are more important uses of her time.”

“She’s a kid, Liv, she needs to have fun.”

“Alright, alright.” Riley stepped in and took Eleanor from Olivia’s arms. “Why don’t you two put a pin in this conversation. When you finally get over this fake hate that is so obviously love, you can fight over how to raise your children.”

Drake and Olivia both snapped their heads toward Riley, who now had Liam standing beside her trying to stifle a laugh.

“Yes Drake, then Riley and I won’t be the only ones running late for stuff because we were making out.” Liam exchanged a high five with his wife.

Drake shook his head, “Gross. I’m leaving.”

“But Uncle Drake, you promised maze tag?” Eleanor looked up at him with sad eyes.

“You’re right, I did. Let’s go kid.” He reached his arm out, taking Eleanor’s hand. “You won’t make fun of me like your mom and dad do, will you?”

“Never ever.”

“And that’s why you’re my favorite.” With that, they made their way out the door.

Riley shared a brief laugh with Liam before they both turned their attention back to Olivia. They spoke for a while longer, Liam and Olivia filling Riley in on what they had come up with. Olivia was invited to stay for dinner, but she had to get back to Lythikos to prepare the recording equipment to be sent to the palace. Riley walked Olivia out while Liam remained on the couch. When she returned to the sitting area, she sat in Liam’s lap.

“It sounds like we have a decent plan in place. I hope I can get some good information in this meeting.” Riley wrapped her arms around her husband’s neck and kissed him on the tip of his nose.

Liam looked at her with a hint of sadness in his eyes as he brought one hand up to stroke her cheek. “Me too, I just wish we didn’t have to risk your safety to get it.”

“Hey, I’ll be ok, I promise.” She pressed a kiss to his lips. “We’ve got this.”

He nodded. As much as he wanted to believe her, he knew this battle was so much different than any they had fought before. They couldn’t trust anyone, and there was a possibility that they were being observed at any given time. He didn’t doubt Riley’s strength or tenacity for a second. But this time, there were so many questions and unknowns about their enemy, that he feared the worst.

Riley noticed Liam falling deeper and deeper into his thoughts, she knew she needed to do something to get him back to the present. She began playing with the hair at the base of his neck as she placed soft kisses along his jaw. “You know, I don’t have to start dinner for another hour...and Eleanor is outside with Drake...any thoughts on what we could do with this sudden time to ourselves?” She asked in between kisses.

The sadness in his eyes was quickly replaced with a look of desire. “Mmm...I do have a few things in mind.” His hands traveled the curves of her body as he methodically kissed down her neck.

“Care to tell me?”

“I’d rather show you.” Liam stood abruptly, lifting Riley with him and tossing her over his shoulder, slapping her on her behind. He delighted at the yelp that escaped her at the sudden contact. He quickly carried her to the bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him.

Permatag: @anjanettexcordonia @athena-penrose @chemist-ana@choicesficwriterscreations @cordonia-gothqueen @cordoniaqueensworld @gabesmommie1130 @gkittylove99 @hopelessromanticmonie @iaminlovewithtrr @jessiembruno @kat-tia801 @khoicesbyk @kingliam2019 @lucy-268 @marshmallowsaremyfavorite @mile9213 @mom2000aggie @pixie88 @queenrileyrose @secretaryunpaid @sweatyrysconnoisseur @theroyalheirshadowhunter @twinkleallnight @txemrn

Sapere Aude: @burnsoslow @busywoman @ofpixelsandscribbles

Liam x Riley: @jared2612

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silkylious · 5 years ago

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Tsunami (Bakugo Katsuki x Fem!Reader)

Bakugo x fem reader

warnings: swearing, angst, fluff

A/N: Ahhhh this is my first post on tumblr, i hope you like some bittersweet goodness w angry boi. constructive criticism is much appreciated!

Love.

Such a complex, convoluted emotion that many people find themselves falling helplessly victim to. Of course, there are the cheesy scenes in romantic movies that exaggerate and almost drain all meaning from the prickly feeling; sharing a sweet kiss while basking in the cool caresses of dewdrops, or having a dim-lit home dinner -scenes which drove his gag reflex reeling, he simply couldn’t understand the appeal of mushing faces with someone when he had better things to do, to achieve. He was going to be the number one, dammit, he didn’t have time to waste on cuddling and doing “couple-y shit” with some extra. That’s not to say he’d never had a crush, or found some girls attractive, hot even, but he kept in mind all his “crushes” (he loathes that word with a burning passion) were merely fueled by his hormonal mind, driven by pure sexual attraction. Nothing more, nothing less. So, he never sought out relationships.

And that was enough for him to keep his peace, unhindered and undisturbed on his desolate little boat, one that he was rowing tirelessly towards his end goal, with no waves and no turbulences daring to stand in his way of firmly grasping that number one spot.

Until a tsunami came crashing in, pummeling him off his safe cruise.

That tsunami was you.

He really should have seen the signs -no that’s not right, he definitely noticed the red flags raising in his peripherals, he should have acknowledged them. It started out as small, barely existent ripples, something to break the monotony of his journey and rock his boat gently. You’d always greet him with that stupidly bright smile, the one that made him feel uncomfortable, skittish (though he hadn’t realized why yet), the one that surely made the sun writhe in boiling jealousy. No matter what time of the day it was, how early in the morning or how deep into the night, you always seemed to make it a point to address him with that unhinged, cheeky grin. He’d reply with a curt nod, or a faint grunt if you caught him on a good day, wanting desperately to ignore the brewing sensation inside him.

“Hey, Bakugo! Did ya sleep well?”

He never replied to the tedious question, refusing to give into the one-sided small talk. That didn’t stop you from resuming your daily routine of pestering him about his training progress or babbling about some movie he couldn’t care less about. He didn’t pay an inkling of attention to the stream of word vomit pouring out of your mouth, no, he much rather zoned in on the way your lips move languidly, still upholding that infuriating smile, the way stray follicles fell over your neck, having escaped from the usual updo you were sporting. His concentration faded in and out of the single-sided conversation, managing to scrap together bits and pieces of whatever you were droning on about. Though he never made any effort in reciprocating your enthusiasm, he never shut you down either (like he would most people), and that was incentive enough for you to keep coming back. To keep talking his ear off with a cluelessly precious smile.

Looking back, he probably should have stopped it there, but he didn’t, he couldn’t help but revel unconsciously in your optimism, though he’d be buried six feet underground before he admitted that. It looked all too peaceful, he didn’t mind the soft stir in his boat, and he was more than content to leave it at that. But then you had to go and push your luck.

You were infinitely aware that he treated you… differently, to say the least, your classmates were also painfully conscious of his strangely tamed and, dare I say, docile way he acted around you, everyone with eyes could see it, except him apparently. Even if he was agonizingly oblivious to his own feelings, yours too, your heart couldn’t help but accelerate whenever he displayed a rare act of kindness towards you. One time in particular, he scolded you for overworking yourself while tending to your wounds, his words lacking the usual bite, none the wiser to the chest palpitations he was effortlessly causing. You couldn’t take it, you had to test your luck. You desired to be closer to him, for him to view as more than a nuisance, you wanted to be more than just acquaintances. With caution thrown to the wind, you embarked on a mission to befriend the Bakugo Katsuki.

That’s when the small ripples that would gingerly sway him turned more rigorous; they evolved into waves, ones he needed to smoothly ride if he didn’t want to fall victim to their ferocity.

He became much more aware of your stature in his lifestyle, how could he not? You’d made it a goal to sit with him during lunch, to share with him your bento box, to talk to him at any given moment. And it was then that he discovered a new part of you, one that was hidden behind your tactful persona. It became a common spectacle during lunch, you two hurling remarks at each other, yours more calculated and sarcastic while his were loud and fiery (in true Bakugo fashion), though the competitive grin stretching his lips, wrinkling the corners of his ruby hues gave away his enjoyment. Bakugo could never get over your quick wit, the speed at which you replied to him with your own quips almost gave him whiplash every time, if he didn’t know better he’d think you were regurgitating pre-written comebacks. It took a bit of coaxing at first, but eventually he gave into your petty bickering (all you had to do was mention Deku this and half-n-half bastard that), and then before he knew it, it was part of his routine, but can you blame him? He was presented with a challenge, of course he’d step up to the plate!

Your waves threatened his quaint, little sail, he had to learn to surf them if he didn’t want to topple over. And so, he did, after all, Bakugo Katsuki never backed down from a challenge.

Your comradery only strengthened from there. You trained together, him pushing your limits with his abysmal power and sheer instinct, you pushing his with precise movements and surprising agility. You strangely complemented each other, both in fighting styles and general attitude. He (aggressively) helped you with your academic shortcomings, and though his methods of teaching were very questionable, they proved to be fruitful as your grades had spiked significantly from his (torturous) aid. You’d grown impossibly closer, spending every waking moment together or thinking about each other. Katsuki didn’t know when it became a habit to anticipate your “goodnight” text, or when just the sight of your face made his anger practically dissipate into thin air.

“So, do you wanna come over to study, I’m kinda struggling with algebra,” You sighed sheepishly, scratching at the back of your head.

“No.” came the blunt response.

“Aw, c’mon, don’t be such a meanie!” You jutted your bottom lip out much like how a kid throwing a tantrum would, his eyes couldn’t help but flicker down to the childish pout, when suddenly it turned into a poorly constrained grin. You had an idea. “Well, whatever, I was gonna order takeout from a new place down the road, I heard they have pretty spicy ramen there, but I guess I’ll order for one,”

You watched with mild amusement and well-concealed affection as his fiery eyes seemed to light up at the mention of spicy food. “Fine, dumbass, but I’m only doing this ‘cuz your sorry ass would fail without me,”

“Mhmm, sure thing, Bakugo,” You practically sang, a teasing lilt to your voice.

Bakugo.

That didn’t sound right at this point. Words left him before his brain could even process what he said, what he was insinuating.

“Katsuki.” He mumbled firmly. Your eyes widened a fraction, giving away your surprise.

“W-What?”

“Call me Katsuki,” It came out more assuredly this time, his glare directed forward as you both walked to your destination, missing the soft smile adorning your lips and the affection oozing out of your gaze.

“Sure thing, Katsuki.” His own lips curled into a faint smile, a tiny tug at the corners of his lips.

A push-and-pull rhythm was created between you; your waves pulling him in, only for his skillful hands and sails to conquer them. It was an endless tug of war, neither of you seemed to mind it, it blanketed you both in a sheen of serenity.

The calm before the storm.

It was merely an innocent question, a teasing inquiry at most, directed at him by his electric blonde friend. “So, man, when are you gonna ask (last name) out? Y’know if you don’t ask her soon, someone else will,”

Katsuki could have sworn he switched quirks with the dunce faced idiot, because at that moment his mind fully short-circuited. Him? And (name)? What would even give him that idea? Sure, she was cute and all -wait, cute?? What the actual fuck? His lack of response and the pinkish tint that spread from his cheekbones to the bridge of his nose seemed to get a rise out of Kaminari, because within seconds his head was thrown back, his laughter catching the attention of their red-haired friend. “Yo, man, what’re you laughing at?”

With that, Bakugo seemed to snap out of his trance, sharp eyes snapping between his self-proclaimed friends. His mouth opened, ready to deliver a curt response, something along the lines of “Fucking nothing!” or “Mind your own business, Shitty Hair!” but the other blonde beat him to the punch, loudly bellowing out,

“Bakugo has a crush on (last name)!”

Bakugo wasn’t pleased to say the least, his hand darting out, flexing a lethal explosion that Kaminari barely dodged. Bakugo’s eyes were wide with unadulterated rage, though he really couldn’t tell at who, nor did he care, he was seeing red at that moment and that’s all he could focus on. Before he can aim another strike towards his cowering friend, Kirishima looped his arms around Bakugo’s shoulders, activating his quirk to prepare for the barrage of oncoming explosions that were sure to come his way. “Dude, stop! You’re being super unmanly right now!”

Realizing there’s no point struggling against his friends hold, Bakugo’s figure suddenly slackened, Kirishima very cautiously relinquishing his grip on his friend. Burning rage, confusion, uncertainty and self-deprecation began to settle in Bakugo’s mind all at once, a million questions stampeding his thoughts. He didn’t like that, he hated not being in control, he hated not knowing what was wrong, especially with himself. With a furious shout of “FUCK OFF!” to dispel some of the anger bristling within him, the ash blonde stomped out of the nearly empty classroom, leaving his two friends to share looks of bewilderment.

And that’s when a tidal wave, a tsunami of emotions quaked his lonely ship, flipping it and hurling him off the deck into the freezing cold, wave riddled ocean, leaving him to sink deeper and flail around in a futile attempt at staying afloat.

The coming days, one thing haunted Katsuki like the plague, despite trying his hardest to avoid overthinking, you just seemed to carve your way into his subconscious. Everything reminded him of you, and he absolutely despised it. When had he gotten so distracted? When had his schedule morphed to make room for your presence in his life? When had he began to await seeing you, hearing your obnoxiously sweet voice? When had he gotten so weak? He didn’t need anyone, no one but himself, that’s all he needed to reach the top. If that was true, then why were his days getting more and more bleak as he actively shunned you out, avoided looking you in the eyes and subsequently being blissfully unaware of the look of hurt in your eyes. He knew he wasn’t being fair to you, but he couldn’t help it, he had to put some distance between you.

And so, he kept struggling against the currents, which only made him sink deeper, and deeper. Even so, he kept wrestling with the tides, hoping he’d make it out alive and free.

His absence in your life made you fidgety, but you brushed it off as him having a less than pleasant day, he’d surely go back to normal, right? Wrong. Things continued as they are, you wanted to give him space and all, but it didn’t help that it seemed he was only circumventing you. You wanted to be patient for him, and you were. But even the most patient of people, the most peaceful of saints, had their tipping points.

“I don’t understand you, Katsuki, we were good not even a week ago and now you’re completely avoiding me!”

“So what if I was, huh?! Are you saying that I need you or some shit?! Are you looking down on me, thinking you’re all high and mighty, that you could be the one to befriend the “pitiful lonely guy”?! Are you saying I’m weak, is that it, huh?! I’m not fucking weak, (name), I don’t need you or anyone for that matter, stop tryna coddle me, I don’t need your shitty friendship!”

Ouch, that hurt. He knew he was spouting so much bullshit straight through his teeth, it didn’t even make sense but that was how his self-defense mechanism works. When in doubt, push people you love away in fear of vulnerability. He knew he was being a major asshole, but nothing would’ve prepared him for the look of unbridled hurt and betrayal in your eyes, tears silently carving valleys on your flushed cheeks. Your quivering lip suppressed a wretched sob, before opening to utter a few heartbroken words.

“I see. Sorry I was such a nuisance for you, Bakugo,”

Bakugo, double ouch. That one stung. Hard. He’d never heard your voice so broken, so raw and meek. He walked home alone that day, already regretting everything he said, already missing your bubbly self.

A drift shook both of you away from each other. Your concerned classmates could only watch in silenced misery as you both hurdled yourselves into hero work and training, doing anything it takes to stay distracted. Bakugo thought that at least there would be one upside to arise from this situation, he could focus more on his dreams, he had more time than ever, he can totally utilize this to his advantage. Or so he thought. You infiltrated every crevice in his mind, all he could think about, day in and day out, was you. He’s always prided himself in being self-disciplined and focused, but right now he was anything but. You weren’t fairing any better. Your optimism was missed in the classroom, you forced a smile to reassure your friends, but that was about all you could muster. It seemed there was no end to the spiral the pair of you were sucked into until something happened. Something big happened.

He was kidnapped. Bakugo was kidnapped.

It seemed like a wake-up call to both of you. You could have lost him; he could have lost you. Bakugo realized, strapped to that chair, with the grey-haired, handy man holding a picture of you from the sports festival while babbling some vague threats, that he wanted to protect you, protect what he loved. He loved you. And he had to be better for you. He also realized that he wanted to go back to you. Dammit, he still didn’t apologize for what he said! He needed to return.

He no longer fought against the tide, he didn’t want to, and he wasn’t going to. And with his fruitless squirming against the current coming to an end, he began to rise to the surface, the gradually heating waters holding him afloat.

His return was a giant relief, you wanted to jump into his arms the moment he was saved, but you knew better. He needed time to think, to sort out his thoughts. Though you didn’t expect that he would sort out his thoughts with his fists. With Midoriya. Actually, scratch that, it was a very Bakugo thing to do.

That night you couldn’t sleep, sitting on the U.A. dorms Alliance stairs with a steaming mug of tea between your clutches. Your eyes, which had been transfixed on the constellations lining the night sky, blinked downward when you heard two pairs of footfalls approaching. You instantly recognized the two boys, beaten and battered.

“(name)...?”

His abnormally scratchy voice greeted you, you didn’t have to strain your ears to conclude that he’d been crying. Your stares were riddled with unspoken words, unvoiced feelings, leaving a pregnant tension in the air. A haggard throat-clearing cut through the quiet.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” And with that, the one-for-all user excused himself into the dormitory.

Katsuki shifted his weight, clearly uncomfortable. He knew what he needed to say he just couldn’t find the will to swallow the lump in his throat and say it.

“Hey, umm-”

Before he can get another syllable out, a force collided with him, shaky arms circling his broad shoulders, mindful of the bruises that littered his porcelain skin. Eyes blown wide; he couldn’t fathom the words that were uttered into his chest.

“I love you, Katsuki. I love you.” A sniff followed the heartfelt words, he felt some tears brimming his own lids.

Carefully bringing his arms around you, wrapping them securely around your waist. Katsuki drifted and swayed on your waves, surfing them skillfully, fully abandoning his past ways, no longer would he scuffle with the ebb and flow of the waters that only hoped of propelling him forward towards his goal. His red gems drifted to the sky, mapping out the stars much like a lost sailor would in search of guidance, though he was anything but lost in that very moment.

His lids dropped, thoroughly fatigued from the day’s events, before his head followed suit, descending and placing feather-like kiss on your head, his strong arms keeping you nestled as close as possible against his chest, a quiet murmur with powerful words left his lips,

“I love you, too. I’m sorry.”

#bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo imagine #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugo x you #bakugou x you #bakugou katsuki #bakugo angst #bakugo fluff

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joontella · 4 years ago

Text

achromatic.

Yandere!Kim Namjoon x Female Reader

Word Count: 11.1k

Genre(s): Angst, Slight Fluff, (HORRIBLY WRITTEN) Smut

Trigger Warning(s): Mentions of religion or lack thereof, blood, murder, idk how the human body works, (unknown) consumption of blood, manipulation, stalking, male masturbation (again, horribly written), Namjoon is an asshole, and musical terms because i play music rip, minor character death, slight gore. it gets really shitty towards the end. i’m sorry

Merry Merry! It’s Peppermint! Your gift is finally here, @exhausted-joy! I’m sorry for the wait. I had to make sure that it was perfect. This is my first time doing this, and I really wanted to give it my all. Please forgive me, and thank you for putting up with my antics in the server. I hope you enjoy it!

I also want to thank Saniya (@smeraldos-blog), Mari (@joheun-saram), Hannah (@spicykoreantatertots), Ley (@pars-ley), Avery (@ksmuttherapy), and everyone else who tolerated and/or helped me out! I love you all and thank you so much for the help and support! I’m so happy to have met you all!

ach·ro·mat·ic /akrəˈmadik/

adjective

without color.

“Damn. There goes my chance of starting my winter break with a passing grade.” One woman groaned.

“What the hell are you talking about? You have a solid ‘C’! I’m literally failing everything!” Her friend responded, as her arms waved in a cartoonish rendition of exasperation. “And whose fault is that?” “Not mine! This semester was nothing but a months-long depressive episode. How could I focus with everything that’s going on?”

He so desperately wishes that they would shut up, or at the very least, take their obnoxiously loud conversation elsewhere. Namjoon twirled the ink pen in his hand with a practiced precision only years of being hunched over paperwork could provide. However, those were nothing but pipe dreams as the two students turned their attention over to him. “There’s Kim Namjoon! He’s had the top spot for years now, way before he was enrolled here.” One began babbling quite loudly whilst pointing to the man in question. “I bet he came out of the womb with high marks. I heard that he scored in the 99th percentile for his newborn screening tests.” The other swooned in response to her own musings.

Obviously, these two were much more idiotic than he had originally thought. It didn’t take an expert to read his body language: the way that he twirled his pen faster, as if that could speed up the agonizing conversation he was being forced to bear witness to; the way his jaw clenched so tightly that it could easily break a metal wire; and the position his shoulders held, resembling an animal coiling in preparation to strike or flee. He pleaded to gods he didn’t even believe in for the duo to be quickly eradicated with a swift strike of lightning. According to the calculations he made swiftly in his head, the chances of something like that happening were infinitesimally small. How unfortunate.

Deciding that the best course of action to take would be to leave the two neanderthals to their devices, Namjoon did just that. He quickly snapped his book shut with one hand and a loud, meaningful clap as the pages suddenly collided with each other. If that didn’t make the nuisances jump in surprise, his words would.

“Although I’m a source of inspiration and wonder to many, it’s degrading to hear someone so openly refer to me in a way that one would to an exotic zoo animal,” He began. Namjoon’s tone was cool and even, carrying an air of regality all the while retaining a bitter edge of contempt and disdain for both the conversation and the mere existence of the two original party members.

Finally, the two felt the brunt of the consequences their crimes on Namjoon’s ears had to offer. They both visibly wilted, reminding the tall man of his mother’s daisies being roasted and withering under the dry summer heat. Normally, this would have been more than enough to diffuse the situation and lift him of his auditory burden. However, his heart ached for more. His brain so desperately yearned for more stimulation and a rush of dopamine.

He decided to twist the knife, so to speak.

“Also, you too could rise to the top.” Namjoon said as he began to turn away.

Out of his peripheral vision, he could see the two wilted flowers gain new life and their faces brighten with newfound hope. The loudest of the two even had the audacity to whimper a pathetically optimistic, “Really?”

Twist. Twist. Twist!

“Of course~.” Namjoon purred, deciding to turn to face his victims’ satisfying demise. His heart threatened to beat in double time in anticipation.

Although their anxiously awaiting smiles made his stomach turn, he couldn’t deny the mirth swirling alongside the disgust in his belly.

“First off, instead of blaming your inadequacies solely on the tumultuous events of this year, take responsibility for your shortcomings. Only children avoid blaming themselves.”

He could hear the glass shattering as their faces fell in a tandem that most would find heartbreaking. He found it utterly amusing. Now, he would take his leave. After receiving the reaction he desired and more, Namjoon wanted nothing more than to leave the duo to stew in their humiliation. Yet, one last thing lingered. He had yet to land the finishing blow that would ensure that he wouldn’t be bothered by these two pieces of scum ever again.

Twist. Twist! TWIST!

“Before I forget, avoid talking so loudly. As you may or may not have noticed, I was trying to study. You know, one of the things that facilitates good grades? I don’t know if you’re aware of it, but your incessant bantering made it increasingly difficult to do so. Might I suggest that you follow my example and do the same? Maybe then, one day, you could take my place at the top.”

Namjoon wasn’t even facing them anymore. His back was to the two women, further solidifying his dismissal of them. With a simple and curt wave of his hand, he simply uttered,

“Ladies.”

And he was on his way.

“Exam results will be posted this afternoon. I trust that you all scored high enough marks to keep our university in high regard.” Your professor droned from the front of the lecture hall. “I know that many of you despise the fact that a standardized test is still administered in college, but so far, it is the only way to ensure that Mugunghwa National Academy is churning out bright students worthy enough to contribute to society!”

The students in question couldn’t care less about their scores or the school’s prestige. All they were worried about was getting the hell out of there after two hours of examination and stifling silence. They all stood from their seats and slung their bags across their bodies. A disgruntled murmur rang throughout. Quite frankly, you were no different.

As you hugged your notebook close to your body, your professor stopped you as you reached the lecture hall door.

“Ah, Miss (L/N). A word, please.”

Surprised, you let out a soft, “Sure.” and walked over to the podium where your professor started to neatly stack and organize his papers.

“As you know, Miss (L/N), you are one of the two best students we’ve had at this academy recently.”

You shifted your weight awkwardly at the sudden praise. You felt heat rise to your cheeks as you began to speak. “I mean, I guess? I wouldn’t go that far, but I suppose that records and the numbers do suggest that I’m performing quite well.” Your professor scowled at your response. You were a bright young woman. You deserved to flaunt it and soak up the praise every once in a while, right? He folded his arms and sighed deeply causing your brain to go into overdrive on how you could rectify the situation. “While pride does come short of a fall, you should learn to take compliments when they’re given, (Y/N). I promise you that you won’t become an egomaniac anytime soon as a result.” He said gently, causing your nerves to subside. Right. Maybe you should just accept compliments. A little self esteem boost never hurt anybody, right? “Thank you, professor, but may I ask why you’re telling me this?” You asked, trying to move the conversation along as politely as you could. You had an hour before you were due to go to the college’s radio station and prepare for this evening’s broadcast. Hopefully, your professor would get to the point so you could quickly grab a bite to eat before you started airing.

“Oh yes, of course! I’m sorry! I said all this to tell you that I have your exam results already. Seeing as how you are the brightest in your class, you finished early, giving me enough time to grade yours while your peers were working. I think that you’ll find the results to your liking, Miss (L/N).” He grinned, handing you a white manila envelope with the school’s insignia printed on the front.

You quirked a brow and opened it. You were then greeted by the name of the school, its motto, and yet another print of the school emblem on the header. Your (E/C) eyes scanned the page until you found what you were looking for:

𝑴𝒖𝒈𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒉𝒘𝒂 𝑵𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝑨𝒄𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒎𝒚 𝑨𝒑𝒕𝒊𝒕𝒖𝒅𝒆 𝑬𝒙𝒂𝒎

𝑵𝒂𝒎𝒆: (𝑳/𝑵), (𝒀/𝑵)

𝑴𝒂𝒋𝒐𝒓: 𝑱𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒎

𝑫𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝑬𝒙𝒂𝒎: 𝑵𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓 21

𝑺𝒄𝒐𝒓𝒆: 98/100

𝑪𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒔 𝑹𝒂𝒏𝒌:

1 𝒐𝒇 300

You stood there, dumbfounded. The paper you once held gingerly and timidly was wrinkling and threatening to tear under your now iron grip. You were now number one. Somehow, some way, you managed to best Kim Namjoon. Mugunghwa’s already carefully balanced and fragile ecosystem was crumbling around you. What have you done?

“I take it that you’re in shock. I’ll leave you alone to celebrate.” Your professor said smoothly as he slung his coat over his shoulder. “Congratulations, (Y/N). Please enjoy the rest of your day.”

“Uh huh… Will do…” You uttered dumbly.

Mugunghwa National Academy ran on strict rules, but most of them were unspoken. For the sake of your sanity and that of the rest of the student body (and let’s face it, staff, too), you intended to follow those sacred and silent rules to the letter.

Rule Number One: Don’t look in the janitor’s closet near the athletics facilities. You may not come out the same way as you came in.

Rule Number Two: If the cafeteria serves meatloaf, avoid it at all costs. Only eat it if you want to get sick and purposely miss class.

Rule Number Three: Kim Namjoon is the best at everything. He is to be number one until Hell freezes over.

Rule Number Four: In order to keep peace and balance between the nations, (Y/N) (L/N) must always come in second. This is the natural order of things.

You were content with being in second place. To be frank, you preferred to leave the pomp and circumstance of being the top dog to Namjoon. He was more equipped to bear the burden, after all. Besides, it wasn’t like your future career was depending on you being the best. You could skate by with a silver medal and leave Namjoon with the gold. You preferred the look of silver, anyway.

Now look at what you've done. There’s no doubt that the records have been updated by now. Your professor did grade yours early, and it’s reasonable to assume that Namjoon’s was as well. You’d inadvertently torn a hole in the gossamer fabric that was Mugunghwa National Academy. With one exam, you signed the collective death certificate of every other person besides Kim Namjoon himself.

May God have mercy on your wretched soul.

“Young Master, your father would like to have a word with you in his study.” The head butler of the Kim mansion stated simply.

For the second time that day, Namjoon clenched his jaw tightly. He shrugged off his coat and handed it to the older gentleman who was automatically waiting at his side to collect the article of clothing. He hadn’t even gotten through the door and already his father wanted to speak with him. This didn’t bode well.

“Seokjin, did he mention why he’d want to see me?” Namjoon asked dryly. Seokjin simply shook his head and hung his coat on the nearby rack.

“He only mentioned that it was urgent, so I suggest that it would be in your best interest to make it there expeditiously.”

This certainly did not bode well. Kim Joonho was a man of few words. Most would say that he’s the very definition of “actions speak louder than words”. Whenever the CEO of Kim Industries did something, people watched in equal parts starstruck awe and fear. However, when the CEO of Kim Industries deemed something important enough to speak on, there was no choice in the matter. You either listened intently or you perished in more ways than one. This was no different for Joonho’s family. In fact, he was worse to them. Working under the guise of caring for his family, Joonho was more stoic to his wife and children.

Regardless of his debatably righteous intentions, it sent the Kim family into delicately managed dysfunction. Simply put, Kim Joonho never spoke to Namjoon out of wishing to connect with his son on a more personal level. Namjoon was the next heir to Kim Industries. Being his son was an unfortunate side effect.

“Sir, I know that I did implore you to hurry, but-”

“What?” Namjoon growled. His nerves were shot to shit today. Anything that impeded his meeting with his father and his goal to quickly get it over with was met with hostility.

Seeming to understand this, Seokjin cleared his throat and motioned a gloved hand towards the mansion’s threshold.

“You know better than to walk in the house with your shoes still on,” The Kim butler began smoothly as he made his way over to Namjoon to collect his shoes. “I do understand that you are upset, but you shouldn’t let your emotions cloud your judgement so drastically that you forget such basic cultural conventions.”

Namjoon sighed sharply and bit back a retort that was bubbling in his throat. Arguing with Seokjin was pointless. As per usual, he was correct. Engaging in such petty conflicts would only worsen things.

“Right. I suppose I was quite hasty. Thank you.” Namjoon sighed whilst peeling off his shoes.

“I do believe that an apology is in order, Young Master.”

Namjoon was already halfway across the foyer, about to ascend the grand staircase leading to the upper floors when Seokjin’s cheeky remark reached his ears. He felt his blood begin to simmer in his veins and his muscles stiffen.

“The fact that I haven’t fired you by now and ruined any chances of you gaining any further employment should be enough of an apology. You’re treading on thin ice, Seokjin. Remember your place in this world.”

With that, he continued his journey to the final boss room within the Kim family mansion: his father’s study. The last he heard of Seokjin was a sly chuckle and the clicking of his polished leather shoes against the floor. Staff were not guests. Therefore, they were not allowed the privilege of removing their shoes. They were expendable. They needn’t get too comfortable.

Despite how much he detested it, Namjoon couldn’t deny that cold chill of anxiety that frosted his entire body. His father never wanted to talk to him. Ever. He could count on his hands the times that Joonho requested his presence. He could count on only one hand how many times Joonho requested his presence to celebrate his son’s successes. Their relationship was solely professional. There was no love to be found, no matter how hard you read between the lines. Even in as high of a position as Namjoon is in, he is still subservient to his father.

That’s the natural order of things.

“Come in, Namjoon.” Joonho’s voice rang from behind the large mahogany doors.

Almost cartoonishly, the hinges squeaked like Namjoon was uncovering the entrance to a haunted crypt. Namjoon decided long ago that was an eerily apt way of describing his father’s study.

Naturally, Namjoon obeyed his father and entered the room. Dead center, there sat Kim Joonho on his throne. Sitting with perfect posture behind the large oak desk, Joonho stared his son down with cold eyes filled with disdain. How Namjoon desperately wished he could gouge them out with his father’s prized letter opener.

“Don’t waste my time. Have a seat. I don’t have all day.” Joonho snapped.

“Of course. How are you today, father?”

The CEO’s eyes narrowed at his son’s inquiry. “Spare me the niceties, boy. Sit down. We have business to discuss.”

Before Namjoon could interject, Joonho was already reaching into a drawer and produced a white manila envelope. Upon closer inspection, one could see Mugunghwa National Academy’s insignia emblazoned on the front. Once Namjoon was properly seated, he reached out and grabbed the parcel.

“May I ask what this is?” “You may not. You have eyes, boy. Read it for yourself.”

The frigid chill of anxiety was soon being replaced with the molten heat of fury. Some tiny part of Namjoon’s mind was concerned that he would develop a fever at the sudden and constant shifts in his body temperature. That wouldn’t do. He couldn’t afford for his health to decline. That would be another thing for his father to berate him for.

“Of course. My apologies, father.” Namjoon whispered as he undid the envelope’s fastening. Once he did so, he pulled the paper out with an air of nonchalance. Surely, it must have been another letter from the school to congratulate him on some academic achievement he didn’t even realize existed. However, in his eyes and in the eyes of his father, it was the exact opposite.

𝑴𝒖𝒈𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒉𝒘𝒂 𝑵𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝑨𝒄𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒎𝒚 𝑨𝒑𝒕𝒊𝒕𝒖𝒅𝒆 𝑬𝒙𝒂𝒎

𝑵𝒂𝒎𝒆: 𝑲𝒊𝒎, 𝑵𝒂𝒎𝒋𝒐𝒐𝒏

𝑴𝒂𝒋𝒐𝒓: 𝑩𝒖𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔

𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒐𝒓(𝒔): 𝑩𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒚, 𝑬𝒏𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉

𝑫𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝑬𝒙𝒂𝒎: 𝑵𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓 21

𝑺𝒄𝒐𝒓𝒆: 96/100

𝑪𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒔 𝑹𝒂𝒏𝒌: 2 𝒐𝒇 300

For the first time in a long time, Kim Namjoon’s world fell apart before his very eyes. Suddenly the sturdy and imposing columns holding up the large study appeared to crumble around him. The fire that crackled in the fireplace was reduced to nothing but pathetic cinders. He felt the ground split beneath his feet and his father… His father grew to a monstrous size in comparison to his surroundings, suddenly hunched over his son in preparation to strike.

“This must be some mistake! The results must have gotten mixed up! I-”

“Enough!” Joonho boomed. He swiftly slammed his hand down on his desk, successfully frightening his son into silence. “Only children avoid blaming themselves. I thought I taught you to accept responsibility! How dare you blame your inadequacies on the people who made them apparent?!”

Namjoon clenched his fists tightly in his lap and pushed down the urge to go through on his original plan of plucking his father’s eyeballs out.

“Can’t you see? Whoever graded my exam was clearly incompetent. If they had a brain stem, they would know that I am only capable of producing top-class work! Just like you should not be blamed for one measly employee’s mistake, I should not be blamed for the mistake of someone beneath me!” Namjoon exclaimed. Once he finished his spiel, he found himself standing up, but he didn’t remember willing his muscles to do so.

“This entire conversation is pointless. It’s inefficient at best and mind-numbing at its worst! For someone who values time and money more than his own family, I find it quite curious that you’re willing to waste both so frivolously.”

Now, it was Joonho’s turn to clench his jaw and his fists. Despite the utter disdain he felt for the situation, the patriarch had to admit the merit in his son’s retort. His pride would never let him express the sliver of admiration that stirred within him at Namjoon’s courageous display.

Nobody dared talk back to Kim Joonho. That was the natural order of things.

“Regardless of who’s truly at fault, find this (Y/N) (L/N). She usurped your throne, Namjoon. She deserves to be punished for her transgression.”

“Of course. She’s public enemy number one, but she won’t be number one ever again.”

With that, the young master of the Kim household turned his back on the old master and shut the door to the crypt behind him.

“Aaaaaand now, we’re back after our break!” Your co-host chirped from beside you.

The red on-air sign glowed warmly overhead, creating a sense of coziness and heat in the otherwise cold station. You wrapped your cardigan closer around you before adjusting your mic.

“And we’re about to go into our winter break soon. How fitting!” You posited, trying to match your co-host’s energy.

“That’s right! Mugunghwa exams are finally over, and the scores and ranks have already been updated for some! Care to talk about that, (Y/N)?” Taehyung, your co-host, wiggled his sharp eyebrows in his quest to prod for information.

Normally, his rectangular grin and bright eyes would warm your heart. Today, however, you wanted to punch that devilish smirk right off of him. You should have known that Tae would have suddenly caught wind of your latest academic achievement. He’s the university’s most involved (read: nosiest) student.

“Not really… But you won’t shut up until I do, so…” You sighed as you spun around in your swivel chair. Once you stopped your cycle, you scooted closer to the microphone and cleared your throat. “I got a 98 on the exam. My professor stopped me after class and told me the news.”

Not that anyone but you and the sound director, Yoongi, would see it, but Taehyung’s impish smile turned into a disappointed pout. “Ah, listen to our (Y/N). Always dodging the important questions. Such a tease!”

You shoved him gently and laughed at his comment before shaking your head. “This guy… To everyone who dreams of dating him, work with him first. You’ll see how much of a horrible person he is.”

“Yah! That’s slander! Aren’t journalists supposed to avoid that?”

“I’ll kick your ass.” You licked your lips and began to answer the original question in further detail. “Yeah, so… Anyway, I got a 98 and I guess that warranted me becoming number one…?”

Both Taehyung and Yoongi’s faces dropped. From his booth, you could see Yoongi grimace and in your peripheral, you saw Tae stiffen.

“Up next is Still With You by our resident golden boy Jeon Jungkook. We’ll be back soon. Stay tuned.”

Suddenly, the on-air sign was turned off. The song began to play and Taehyung immediately gripped your shoulders.

“You what?!” Taehyung nearly screeched. “(Y/N), do you have any idea what this means?!” “That I took Kim Namjoon’s place and sent the fragile society of Mugunghwa into ruin? Yeah, I do.” Tae blinked for a moment. “No… Although, that does make sense. That seems way more important than what I was gonna say. Huh.”

You were actually going to punch the shit out of him. “Dude, what?”

“Listen, this is your chance! You can finally get recognized as the top-tier person that you are! As long as you were under Kim’s big, goofy shadow, you were going to be pushed aside! Now you can show everyone here how cool you are!”

You felt your throat tighten. That all-too-familiar sensation of a goose egg being lodged in your esophagus rose. You were going to cry. How you desperately wished that you could view the world like Taehyung did. How you longed to see the silver lining of every situation just like he did. All you saw was destruction and despair. All you felt was guilt for damning the entire student body to some cruel fate that only Kim Namjoon could dish out.

“Tae, I love you, but you don’t fucking get it! I’m screwed! We’re all screwed! I broke two of the sacred rules of this school! Kim Namjoon must always be first! I must always be second! I just sentenced everyone to death!”

Taehyung raised a brow, as if what you were saying were the incoherent ramblings of a mad woman. “You describe my cousin like he’s some heinous demon.” Even the usually passive Yoongi had to straighten his spine and widen his eyes at this revelation.

“He’s your cousin?!”

Tae leaned back in his seat with yet another smirk. This time, you couldn’t put a finger on the emotion this specific lift of his lips held. “Isn’t the resemblance obvious? The Kim line has some strong genes. It’s been that way since the Joseon era, I’ve been told.”

Ignoring the historical implications for why such strong genes would still be present thousands of years later (assuming that Taehyung was actually serious), you hurried the conversation along. Jungkook’s silky voice had faded away a while ago, leaving the two of you with little to no time left before it was time to open the floor to callers. This was your last chance to get some useful information about Namjoon before you were dragged into what you knew was going to be a relentless storm of phone calls and incredulous screeches at the news.

Like you had said before, you’d damned everyone. Who wouldn’t want to yell at the person that had the audacity to send an entire population into ruin?

“Get to the point, Taehyung. You’re telling me that you’re related to Satan himself? And I’ve been your co-host for how long?!” You near screeched.

Tae’s ambiguous smirk was now replaced with a blank expression. “I didn’t think it mattered, (Y/N). Why does it even matter now? If there’s a bigger issue here, I think you’re dodging it.”

You froze. He was right. For as long as you knew him, Taehyung had this uncanny ability to pick people apart and leave them vulnerable in an instant. This was especially effective on you, you’ve come to realize. The funny thing was that you hadn’t realized that you were employing tactics to postpone the inevitable inundation of accusatory and furious phone calls being thrown your way. Deep down, you always hated confrontation. Until Taehyung uttered those words, you hadn’t realized how deep that hatred and aversion was ingrained.

“Damn. You’re...good… I guess I am avoiding things. Let’s just get this over with. If we hold it off any longer, things will get worse.” You muttered as you looked towards Yoongi’s booth, motioning for him to put you both back on air.

Taehyung placed a comforting hand on your shoulder and flashed his signature boxy smile. “You don’t even know what they’re going to say. Who knows? News of your latest accomplishment may have brought the (Y/N) (L/N) Official Fanclub out of hiding. I bet that there are going to be several callers professing their undying love for you!”

“Their what now?” You asked dumbly.

Taehyung placed a hand on his heart and slipped into a persona reminiscent of the male protagonist of one the many romance dramas that were plastered on television nowadays. His deep voice rumbled the soundproof padding on the walls and wrapped you in its velvety embrace.

“(Y/N), I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember. I’ve struggled with these emotions for so long, but news of your success has given me the courage to confess them. I can’t quite make heads or tails of them, but I want to explore them all with you…” Not that anyone but you and Yoongi could see the exchange, but Taehyung gently cupped your chin with his large hand and looked longingly into your eyes. “That is, if you’d let me.”

Silence. Then raucous laughter from you and Taehyung. (Yoongi was visibly cringing in his booth.) You expected nothing less from the theater major, but you couldn’t help the delicate fluttering that began in your stomach. Was this the fabled Taehyung Effect at work? The two of you turned to your microphones and opened the floor to callers, as per usual for this segment of your show. What was highly unusual, however, was the heartfelt “confession” that was unwittingly broadcasted to everyone tuned in. Unbeknownst to everyone, the red on-air sign shone above your heads, serving as a beacon or perhaps an unfortunately ignored warning. A warning that your lighthearted joke wasn’t going to be a joke to some.

A warning that the harbinger of doom himself was listening in… A warning that he had now collected leverage over his new enemy… A warning that he was going to destroy you, even if he had to use his own relative to do it. He would surely add this to his rapidly growing arsenal of schemes.

The next day, the very air at Mugunghwa was different. Somehow, despite being the enigmatic second-place student, everyone instinctively knew to distance themselves from you. Biologically speaking, humans were still animals, despite the staunch separation that was created over time. There was still a basal instinct to survive. In this case, that instinct screamed, “Get away from the brainlet that dared to tip the scales and anger Kim Namjoon.” You didn’t blame anyone for their decision. You couldn’t. You’d be the world’s biggest hypocrite if you did, and you didn’t want “hypocrite” to be engraved on your tombstone next to “cold-blooded killer”.

Everywhere you walked, people watched you intently with eyes filled with either fear, confusion, or disgust. You could hear thinly-veiled whispers as you passed your fellow students.

“There she is.”

“She’s surprisingly pretty. I expected some ugly broad to be under Namjoon’s shadow.”

Ah, yes. You had forgotten your previously fairly secretive life before the shoe dropped. You were content with living under the radar. After all, it kept the vicious rumors of the poor girl who by hook or crook got her way into an elite university on a full-ride scholarship at bay. As long as you held the number two spot, nobody cared about you. News of your arrival and subsequent theories surrounding it were just a fad that most people shortly moved on from. The drastic and sudden change from peaceful irrelevance to hostile notoriety made you nauseous.

The cold air nipped at your flesh while you made your way to the library. Fresh snow made its satisfying crunching sound as you sped towards your destination. Wait. Sped? Only when you looked down at your feet did you realize that your steps were quicker than usual. Needless to say, you were confused at this revelation. Were things really this bad? Why was your body subconsciously hurrying you along when no danger was immediately present? Then, it hit you: If the Kim Taehyung Effect caused your insides to flutter and your heart melt with glee, the Kim Namjoon Effect caused everyone to cower and hide in pure horror. Maybe it ran in the family. After all, the two were related. How that crucial detail managed to slip past you was beyond human understanding.

Soon enough, you made your way into the campus library. Warmth enveloped you and thawed your chilled skin with each step into the large building. The tall bookshelves that towered over you and the other patrons made you feel safe. The walls of knowledge served as barriers from the predatory glares that were shot your way anywhere else. Here, while not entirely forbidden, hushed insults and remarks were more so. The library was your sanctuary when the dormitories weren’t, and with all the girls and even your RA avoiding you like the plague, it was safe to say that your dorm wasn’t very inviting right now.

Whatever it took, you needed to get your mind off of the Namjoon business. Sitting down in the warm silence served to do just that. You absentmindedly wandered through the various sections of the building. The nutty scent of someone’s morning brew filled your nostrils on your journey, easily putting you at ease in an instant. The rhythmic click-clack of someone's fingers against a computer keyboard kept your body grounded to the Earth. It served as a nice tether and protection from your thoughts that threatened to whisk you away into the stratosphere with every step you took.

Your feet took you past the reference section, the nonfiction section, and even the genealogy section before making its final stop at the fiction section. When you first started college, you found it odd that a library carried such books, but you soon came to realize that an escape into another world was appreciated by everyone. A love for fiction did not have an age limit.

You found yourself engrossed in a high fantasy novel by one Bang Sihyuk. (A very talented author, you decided. You made a note to look into some of his other works when you weren’t staring death in the face.) The sweet sound of yet another page turning and revealing more of the lore slowed your racing heart. The subtle smell of ink and glue softened your muscles, willing them to relax into the plush chair. The floor lamp next to you glowed softly and turned the usually stark clash of pitch black lettering against white pages into a mellow brown against cream parchment.

Even if you knew you had to face the wolves outside your sanctuary eventually, you still savored the solace you had in that moment. What you never considered was that those halcyon days were going to soon fall into utter ruin and despair with a singular human-shaped silhouette.

Everywhere Namjoon went, eyes followed. The air around him crackled with apprehension, but he couldn’t care less if he tried. This was natural. The pitiful prey animals around scrambled away for dear life, functioning solely on the fleeting notion that sticking around would spell their demise. Most of the people here were college students beginning their prime. They couldn’t afford to wither away… Not yet, at least… And certainly not here.

Stifled gasps laced with fear and admiration threatened to strangle the poor Kim heir. How he so desperately wished that they would all shut up! The constant buzzing murmur felt like mosquitoes tiptoeing across his skin during the hot and balmy summer months. It was highly annoying, to say the least.

His piercing mocha eyes landed on a target. A mousy figure was dwarfed by Namjoon’s taller and muscular frame. Pair the size difference with his steely and—arguably murderous—gaze fixed on the piteous male before him, both parties were surprised that the smaller student didn’t go into cardiac arrest.

“I would stay to chat, but I have important business to attend to,” Namjoon began. The timbre of his voice seeped into the small man’s bones and rattled them with each syllable. “You obviously know something, or else you wouldn’t be so pathetically fearful.”

The other male gulped audibly. His dull brown eyes stared into Namjoon’s vibrant cocoa ones. His pupils contracted as a cold sweat formed on his forehead and neck. Deep down, he knew that one wrong move would send him spiraling into horrors unimaginable. This was Kim Namjoon he was dealing with. He only had one chance.

“I don’t know w-what you’re talking about…” He squeaked.

Namjoon narrowed his eyes with clear annoyance and disgust for the situation and the animal shivering before him. This caused the mousy man to gasp sharply.

“Tell me where (Y/N) (L/N) is. It’s a simple request. Even someone of your calibre should be capable of such a mundane task.” Namjoon stated simply. Disdain bled through his words into his tone and seeped into his prey’s already paper-thin psyche.

With a trembling arm, the rodent (as Namjoon decided to call him) pointed in the direction of the campus library. Of course you would be there. It made his blood boil to think that you’d already be in the library after receiving news of your latest feat. Anyone else would be a fool to risk losing such an honor. Studying was the only way to cement your new station as Mugunghwa’s new number one.

Without so much as a half-assed utter of thanks, Namjoon strode off in the direction of the large building. He was so hyper-focused on cutting you down and ensuring that you wouldn’t be a problem again that the signature thud of a body against snow missed his attention completely. The concerned and shocked gasps of onlookers didn’t affect him either.

Soon enough, he was at his destination. The same book-filled shelves and walls that greeted you greeted him at the entrance. Upon seeing his figure, the librarian at the circulation desk straightened in order to greet Namjoon properly. ‘At least one person here knew their place.’ He thought to himself.

“I’m looking for (Y/N) (L/N). It’d be in your best interest to point me in her direction as quickly as possible, Jimin.” Namjoon stated coolly with a tinge of nonchalance. Although he was painfully aware of the importance his little scouting mission served, his seemingly apathetic tone was the result of having said the same thing over and over like a broken record. The sooner he found you and got you to bend the knee, the sooner he could return home to his own studies.

The librarian, Jimin, nodded and swiftly pointed towards the fiction section. His mug of hazelnut coffee threatened to spill at the sudden and crisp motion. “She went that way, towards the fiction books.” He stated plainly. Namjoon couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto his features. Jimin was always such an attentive servant.

Ever since that little incident before Mugunghwa’s annual recital, the dance major felt a deep sense of allegiance towards the older male. He had to. Namjoon was the only reason Park Jimin was able to continue his dream of becoming a world-class dancer, and it was made abundantly clear that what Kim Namjoon giveth, he can just as easily taketh away. Poor Jimin had no idea why you were being sought out by the most powerful student at the university, but he couldn’t help but suppress the gnawing sensation that he was leading you to a painful end.

Once again, forgoing a thank you, Namjoon began the final stretch of his arduous journey to find you and finally set things right in the world. The only issue was that he had no idea who he was looking for, exactly.

Oddly enough, despite your status, you had managed to keep a low profile. Very few people actually knew what you looked like. Hell, your student profile didn’t even have an image of you posted. In fact, the only way people outside of your direct circle of cohorts started to gather what you looked like was because the web connecting (Y/N) (L/N), radio show host and journalism major and (Y/N) (L/N), former number two was finally starting to weave itself. As far as most of the student body was concerned, you were nothing but a faceless placeholder image against a drab gray background. It wouldn’t have surprised Namjoon if you actually walked around with the words, “NO IMAGE AVAILABLE” permanently marked on your body. What he saw, however, was beyond his own comprehension.

There you were, his enemy, his prey. You sat idly in the large cushioned chair with your book nestled delicately in your hands. For the moment, you were blissfully unaware of the danger that loomed nearby. This was almost too easy. Almost as if your presence unlocked a vault to all his plans to destroy you, you looked at him.

And then his world changed. He almost felt sick at the sudden rush of sensory input his brain was forced to parse through. The previously unsaturated hall roared to life with colors he hadn’t even seen before. Warm browns, reds, and hues of every other name shot into Namjoon’s retinas upon gazing at your graceful form. This was (Y/N) (L/N)? This hidden gem? He was meant to demolish this?

He couldn’t. He shouldn’t. He wouldn’t. For the first time in a long time, Kim Namjoon was rendered speechless. His heart began to beat in double-time. If his biological functions were a musical piece, this specific section’s tempo marking would be prestissimo. Beyond vivace, beyond presto.

He couldn’t take it, so for the first time ever, Kim Namjoon ran away.

You didn’t dare move. Fear wrapped its spindly fingers around your heart and clutched it in its icy grasp. You didn’t have to move your eyes off of the page to see who the shadow cast onto it belonged to. Deep down, you knew.

Goddamn it.

You just knew.

Just when you gathered the courage to face your doom head on, he was gone.

“What the fuck…?” You whispered. Your fantasy novel fell to the ground on its spine with a soft thud. Was this it? Were you officially losing it? Was stress causing you to hallucinate and see literal shadow people?! That was it.

Not wanting to have a literal breakdown in the middle of the library, you honed your senses in on the now cold-smelling coffee nearby. The faint hazelnut blend managed to at least tether you down to reality once more. You took a deep breath. Everything was now in focus. You had to leave, you decided. So that’s what you did.

If the library’s other patrons noticed the shocked, glazed over look in your eyes, nobody said anything. You had just come in contact with the menace. You were lucky to be alive. There’s no need to add insult to injury by inquiring about your current situation. Wordlessly, you ambled out of the library door. Jimin’s small eyes followed your every movement until you were finally out of his line of sight.

Soon enough, you made it to your dorm room. Oddly enough, it felt like you’d walked through a wormhole and warped to the private space. It appears that moving effortlessly through time and space was an eerily common theme that day. Not wishing to dwell on it any further, you plummeted onto your bed and let a dreamless sleep whisk you away from all your troubles.

A month had passed since your clandestine encounter with Namjoon. Surprisingly enough, after the first week or so of living in terror, the foreboding feeling of doom had all but disappeared. Like a colony of ants rebuilding their anthill after a sudden rainstorm, so too did Mugunghwa National Academy rebuild anew. As Thanksgiving rolled into Christmas, the student body had learned to accept that you were now at the top of the food chain. The status quo had shifted in your favor. Students that would previously mutter curses after you passed by would suddenly wave amicably once they noticed your presence.

While the sudden lack of hostility was appreciated, you couldn’t help but notice how shallow the whole situation was. A faint sense of disgust settled at the pit of your stomach. Or was it foreboding, after all? After your encounter with Namjoon’s shadow at the library, the Kim Industries heir had disappeared suddenly. He had disappeared without a trace. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. His scores were still updated regularly; his name was still in the mouths of every man, woman, and child that walked across campus; and you swore that you saw his tall figure slither like a snake behind buildings and shrubbery one time after class. While there was solid proof that he still (at the very least) resided within this plane of existence, Kim Namjoon had achieved cryptid status. Just a month ago, he was the dark overlord that ruled Mugunghwa with an iron fist. Now, he was merely a relic of the past, a name synonymous with the Boogeyman. Kim Namjoon was now used to scare freshmen like tales of a monster under one’s bed were used to frighten young children.

The truth, like all things are, was much more complicated than that. After he met you, his goddess, at the library, Namjoon spiraled out of control. Nothing was the same for him. At first, it was a fleeting rush of endorphins, he had decided. Perhaps the sense of victory he felt after finding his long lost rival caused his brain to go into overdrive with glee. With that in mind, he returned home to lick his wounds and rewrite his battle plans.

The next day, everything seemed normal enough. His world was in grayscale once more. Individuals who weren’t of direct importance to him retained their distorted, blob-like features. His senses were mostly dulled once again… Until you appeared. You walked across campus with grace that put the supermodels that his father regularly “worked with” to shame. To be honest, they looked like pitiful crows with snapped legs when put up against your stork-like elegance.

His previously unsaturated world regained its color. His heart rate increased, warmth filled his veins as a result. Everything was crisply in focus when it came to you. For the first time in a long time, Kim Namjoon was terrified… But that’s what intrigued him all the more. Once you left his sight, however, the blooming colors vanished. Everything was blurred again. The warmth had died and left him empty, hollow, and cold. After a few days of this occurrence, Namjoon made his biggest realization yet: he was in love with you.

He was quick to write it off as pure lust. After all, remaining at the top didn’t leave much time for him to indulge in more carnal pleasures. Hell, the only thing he could remember slamming on a table on doing all night long was homework, as old and pathetic as the joke was. Namjoon was a dashing, intelligent young man beginning to reach his prime. Abstaining from such a primal and basic need wasn’t good for him. With that in mind, he immediately began his conquest.

First, it started with the models his father would fuck behind his mother’s back. Despite how carefully manufactured their appearances were, they didn’t quench his thirst. In fact, they enraged Namjoon to the point where it wasn’t uncommon for the women to leave his bedroom bruised the next morning. This charade went on for much too long until he’d had enough.

No other woman could set his heart aflame without even trying. No other woman could bring life to his distorted and achromatic world like you could. So he tried a man. Several men, in fact. He got so desperate that not even his little Park Jimin was safe from his ravenous clutches.

Nothing. Nothing had worked.

Now, as the clock struck midnight in his grand bedroom, Namjoon sat in his bed with his hand wrapped around his cock. He’d been so on edge for the longest time, yet nothing he did could stir him. So, he did the only thing he knew how… Thoughts of you filled his mind as he ghosted a finger across his limp member. The warmth he felt was returning once more…

“Namjoon! There you are! I’ve been so lonely… Don’t you know that I’ve missed you?”

There you were in the Kim manor’s living room. A black silk robe hugged your form perfectly as you bounded over to him. Golden sunlight filtered through the curtains and cast you in its heavenly warm glow. Your (E/C) eyes peered up at him with such admiration, lust, and most importantly, love. Before he could even properly process the scene, you had him enveloped in the warmest hug imaginable.

Namjoon felt a rush of lust and blood shoot straight to his dick.

“I know, darling… But I’m here now. We can be together. I’m all yours from now on.” He replied smoothly.

Namjoon didn’t even think it possible for your eyes to shine any brighter, but they did. And they were all for him. Your eyes, your beautiful eyes, for his eyes only… He gently caressed your cheek, careful not to mark it. The time for leaving marks and bruises would come later on…

“Really?” You asked. Your entire face lit with hope and wonder. “You mean it? Please don’t tease me, baby~. I don’t know what I’d do if you had to go so soon…”

You buried yourself into him, as if you knew that your home was within his embrace. He relished in it. He really did…

Namjoon felt feverish. His hands got to work immediately. Visions of you nestled against him, starlit eyes gazing into his, your form undulating beneath him as he pounded into you with everything he had. Your ecstatic moans and gasps filled his ears and mind, creating a carnal symphony only you could compose.

Sweat beaded on his temples, his arms beginning to burn with exhaustion as they continued to bring him to completion. Musical, “I love you, Namjoon”s and “Please! I’m so close, baby! Fuck me!”s began to crescendo rapidly. The world around him went from a gentle warmth to a blazing inferno. Colors reached their maximum saturation. Namjoon’s heart began to beat erratically. This was it. This was it! This is what he needed!

“Yes, (Y/N). You’re so good to me! Take it! Take it!!”

With an animalistic roar, Namjoon shot his seed. It coated his body and even his blanket that he pushed aside in his lustful fever. The fireworks came to a close. His jagged breaths began to even themselves out. The angels stopped singing. He was alone once more… But he wouldn’t be for long.

Tears filled Namjoon’s vision as he looked at his clock. Time wasn’t important anymore… But you were. He was going to have you, and he was going to become number one again. Kim Namjoon was going to be your number one.

Just like that, the year of terror had come and gone. Now, a new year was upon you and another December along with it. You stared up at your dorm room’s ceiling with a dumb smile etched on your face. After all, that was the only expression you could possibly muster, given the circumstances.

“Damn… What the hell happened to me?” Was all you managed to say as you turned onto your side. Your phone in hand, you scrolled through your photo gallery almost absentmindedly until you reached one particular photo. There you were at a carnival with the Devil incarnate, Kim Namjoon. Your eyes bright with glee at the large plush you held in one arm as you posed with Namjoon for a selfie.

You chuckled and zoomed in on the image with a wistful smirk. While you stared ahead at the camera, Namjoon stared at you with an expression that you didn’t even know that he possessed: pure, unadulterated admiration. You were almost inclined to call it love.

The past year and some change was a whirlwind. Your earliest memory of it consisted of finally coming to terms with the ecosystem at Mugunghwa, only to be faced with Namjoon and your whole world coming down. Students and staff alike scurried away from the dining area, not wanting to be a witness to a crime. You had gained new friends over the course of these months. They simply couldn’t stand to see your last moments on this earth in complete agony.

However, your death never came. Namjoon stood proudly in the now empty cafeteria, as if he relished in the fact that he could clear a room without uttering a single word.

“(Y/N) (L/N). It’s so good to finally put a name to a face… And what a lovely face it is…”

If Namjoon wasn’t going to kill you, the water lodged in your windpipe at his words would. You sputtered, hands waving as you choked on your water. Suddenly, Namjoon came behind you and swiftly patted your back. Once you could breathe again, you wiped at your tear-filled eyes and peered up at him. “I’m sorry… What?”

Namjoon returned to his original position in front of you with a smirk. Pulling out a chair, he sat down with the practiced air of a businessman about to make a deal. “I called you beautiful. I do hope that wasn’t too forward.”

Now, you were suspicious. Satan himself had saved you from choking and was now calling you attractive? Were you dead? Did you imagine Namjoon helping you as a last-ditch effort to survive somehow? Was that the image your brain created as you slipped away into the world of the dead? But this was reality. Something deep down told you that you weren’t dying or dreaming.

“Forgive my skepticism, but I highly doubt that you came to exchange compliments. What do you want, Kim Namjoon?” You asked icily. The male in front of you visibly recoiled at your tone, as if he didn’t factor in the possibility that you could speak with such a tone. He quickly recovered, however, and he began his pitch.

“You’re half right, (Y/N). I didn’t come here to only compliment you, but I came here to have a discussion that is long overdue. At my core, I am a businessman. I make deals, I negotiate. That’s what I’m here to do.” Namjoon stated simply. Looking deeply into his eyes, he didn’t show any signs of insincerity, but that’s to be expected. He’s been trained his entire life to hiding his true intentions behind an amicable facade, regardless of how nefarious his plans may or may not be.

“I see… What is it that you wish to discuss? I’m afraid that I’m not as well-versed in business etiquette as you, so please forgive me for any mistakes or slip-ups that I may make. That being said, this is not an invitation to walk all over me. I may be inexperienced, but I am by no means an idiot.”

Could you be any more perfect for him? A beautiful face and body, poise and grace, and the courage to hold her own in a negotiation? Not to mention, the colors were swirling around you and blooming delicately in such a comforting fashion. He was absolutely smitten.

“I wouldn’t dare make the mistake of calling someone who replaced me as top dog an idiot. Give me some credit. I’m not as vile as the university’s tall tales make me out to be. I’m sure that my cousin, Taehyung, could vouch for me.”

You bristled at the mention of Taehyung. What had he done to him? Did something happen? No, that couldn’t be. You had just finished your show with Tae only a half hour ago. Surely, that isn’t enough time for him to get into any trouble, right?

“Calm down, (Y/N). Nothing’s happened to him. I can see the wheels turning in your head. My cousin is safe and sound. I can even call him up for you, if you don’t believe me.” Namjoon said smoothly, already fishing his phone out of his designer coat’s pocket.

“No, that’s fine…” You swallowed and regained your composure. Once you were calmed down, you returned Namjoon’s gaze. “I’m sure he’s alright. If anything, I’ll call him later. Right now, this is more important.”

Namjoon put his phone away and leaned back in his chair whilst giving a dismissive wave of his hand. Hopefully, the display of nonchalance would mask the sheer excitement and feverish nervousness he felt from being so close to you. Hearing your voice was like hearing the soothing melodies of birdsong in the morning. His heart soared at the mere act of being in your presence.

“Very well. I came here to apologize. You see, I’m well aware of the distress to you and everyone here at Mugunghwa that I’ve caused, and for that, I’m sorry.”

You could have died right there. Kim Namjoon? Apologizing? And apologizing to you, no less?! The infamous heir to Kim Industries, known for the downfall of any and everyone who dared impede his goals was apologizing to you?!

“Please, (Y/N). Forgive me. It’s just that losing to you has put my life into perspective. Yes, I was the head of our class, but what did that mean? Why was I fighting so hard to keep a title that in the long run, means so little? What was the point if I had no one to share it with?”

“What the hell are you getting at, Kim? I fail to see what this has to do with conducting business.”

As precious as you were to him, Namjoon despised your tone. If you were to be his, that sharp tongue would have to be dealt with. Besides, in that instant, you reminded him of his lowlife father. That certainly wouldn’t do. His queen should never adopt the mannerisms of Kim Joonho. Never. Ever. You were to whisper sweet nothings into his ear while he reciprocated. You were to never take such a tone with him ever again.

“I was rambling, so I’ll forgive that insolent remark of yours just this once. Make sure it doesn’t happen again.” Namjoon stated darkly.

Not wanting to push your luck, you relented. You were actually talking to Kim Namjoon. You couldn’t afford to ruin an opportunity like this.

“Right.” He resumed “The truth is that I’ve been watching you for quite some time. Honestly, that’s all I can ever do anymore. You’ve occupied every inch of my mind, and I just wanted to ask if you’d be mine, (Y/N).”

You sat there, slack-jawed. Was he serious?! What was happening?

“You’re joking… There’s no way that you could be serious. There’s no fucking way!”

“I am. I’ve done some soul-searching recently, and I’ve come to the conclusion that you are what I’ve been fighting for all this time. Not a damn class rank. I’ve been fighting for love, affection, understanding… And I believe that I can find all of that in you.”

“You… What…? I- How?”

“February 14, a dozen red roses were waiting for you on your desk in your dorm. With them, was a card addressed to you from a secret admirer. March 14, a diamond necklace was gifted to you for White Day by a secret admirer. And now, these.”

Namjoon produced a stack of envelopes bound by a black silk ribbon from his jacket pocket.

“These are from me. You’re a smart girl, (Y/N). Can you tell me who your secret admirer is?”

That was April. After a few talks with your co-host and having to sit through embarrassing stories of their childhoods, you finally took the leap and went out on a date with Namjoon… And you were the happiest you’ve ever been. The large stuffed animal that Namjoon had won you sat on a bookshelf, next to several other trinkets he had given you over the months you had dated.

You chuckled to yourself at the memory and closed your photos app. After which, you opened up your messaging app to shoot a quick text to Namjoon. That was until, you got a notification reading,

KIM INDUSTRIES CEO, KIM JOONHO FOUND DEAD IN HIS WINTER ESTATE.

Without thinking, you dialed Namjoon’s number and was greeted by a somber moan answering the phone.

“Namjoon, baby, I’m so sorry… I just saw the news.”

A sniff. “Hey. So the news outlets already published the story, huh? I should have known that it wouldn’t take long… They could at least have the common decency of letting his corpse grow cold first before they publicize it.” Namjoon chuckled humorlessly.

You didn’t know what to say. You couldn’t imagine going through the sudden shock of losing your parent, only to deal with the press soon afterward. You sensed that Namjoon needed some time to himself to grieve, and you were more than willing to give it to him.

“Yeah, it’s shitty what they’re doing. And to think that I’m going into that profession. It’s crazy.”

“It is what it is, (Y/N). Besides, I have faith that you’ll be one of the good journalists that don’t try to weave everything that they hear into lies and defamation.” He said earnestly.

Something about the way Namjoon spoke was unnerving. He didn’t sound like someone who was mourning their late father, but then again, he might have been in shock. His apathetic demeanor on the matter must have been a coping mechanism. After all, losing your father so suddenly is a lot to process.

All you could do is hum in response. “I’m glad you think so.”

“I know so, dear.”

A pregnant pause.

“Hey, (Y/N). I know this sounds horribly insensitive, but, can we still have our dinner date at my mansion? It’s just that I can’t bear to be alone right now, and you’re the only person I’ve been able to trust lately. It doesn’t have to be a date. I guess I just want you to come over.”

Your heart shattered into smithereens. He was alone and scared. Namjoon had no one to trust or turn to in his time of need, yet he found it within his heart to ask you. Who were you to refuse?

“Alright. I’ll go. Same time?”

He didn’t have to say a word, but you could hear his dimpled smile some out to play.

“Y-yes, yes, of course! Same time! Thank you so much, (Y/N). You don’t know how much this means to me. I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”

“Alright, see you soon. Bye.”

You hung up the phone with a sigh and faced your closet. You had exactly two hours to get ready for dinner. You had two hours to prepare…

And so did Namjoon.

Once again, Namjoon was summoned to his father’s study. He was expecting it sooner or later. His class rank hadn’t improved since his father sent him to take his top spot back by any means necessary, but you were number one now. Namjoon wouldn’t dare dethrone his goddess from her rightful pedestal.

What he wasn’t expecting, however, was upon opening the large doors a swift slap coming across his face.

“You useless, useless brat! You can’t even eliminate a simple girl?! You can’t even reclaim your title?! How am I supposed to leave my estate and company in such incapable hands?!”

Joonho was fuming. His once pride and joy had betrayed him and disappointed him. How dare he? Namjoon sat on the floor, gingerly rubbing his cheek. He was sure his father’s handprint was burned into his flesh.

“I swear, you’re incompetent just like your brother! He disappointed me, and look at where he is now! I should have known that it was too good to be true.”

At the mention of his brother, Namjoon’s body stiffened.

“All of this. You’re ruining your life and your career all for some girl?! You’re willing to throw away what I’ve essentially bred you for, all for some lowlife pussy?!”

At the mention of you, Namjoon began to see red.

“I suppose I’ve been too lenient on you. I should have known that you would flounder. Maybe I’ll get rid of (Y/N) myself. It’s clear that she means a lot to you. Maybe you’ll get back in line once she perishes.”

That was the final straw. With pure rage fueling his every cell, Namjoon sprinted over to his father’s desk and grabbed his letter opener.

“Say it again, bastard! Say it again!”

Now, Joonho’s figure was dissolving into a crimson blob. All of his human like features were gone in a furious red haze. Kim Joonho wasn’t his father anymore. He wasn’t even human.

He was the enemy.

Without giving his father a chance to speak, Namjoon plunged the letter opener into the older man’s eye sockets. After that, it was a blur. Hours had seemingly passed and Kim Joonho was nothing but a human pincushion. Stab wounds littered his body, and blood was oozing out of every one. With a satisfied grin, Namjoon stood and cupped a crimson hand to his face.

“Seokjin! Seokjin! Come down here!”

The head butler rushed in the study and into the carnage. The older male was mortified at the bloodbath before him, but he couldn’t help the relieved smile and tears of joy forming in his tear ducts.

“Brother, come help me clean up father. Unless, of course, you have some words for him?”

Seokjin carefully approached his father’s corpse and smiled wickedly. He placed a gloved hand on his eyeless face.

“You’ve disappointed me, Joonho. And now look where that’s brought you. My transgressions against you warranted that I were to be stripped of my place in the world as your son, only to become your servant. Your transgressions warranted your death at the hands of your prodigy. Isn’t that poetic justice? Sleep well, father.”

“Master Namjoon will be down in a moment.” A maid stated as she had you seated.

A white cloth napkin was folded and placed on your lap while you got comfortable in the antique dining chair. Staff hurried to and fro to finish preparing for your meal, and it was almost amusing seeing them rush around like busy worker bees instead of the esteemed staff of the Kim Manor.

A few moments ticked away before Namjoon made his appearance. He was elegantly clad in a designer Armani suit, giving a regal and princely appearance as he made his way over to you from the grand foyer.

“Please forgive me, dear. I had some business to attend to.”

Namjoon outstretched his arms, motioning for you to give him a hug. You happily obliged.

“Namjoon! There you are! I’ve been so lonely… Don’t you know that I’ve missed you?” You cheekily giggled. If you ignored the whole dead dad situation, the whole scene would appear wholesomely domestic. You decided to indulge in that notion.

Namjoon’s breath hitched.

“I’m sorry that I’ve kept you waiting. I hope that we can make up for lost time during dinner, yeah?”

You nodded and sat down in your chair. Namjoon was seated right beside you. As if on cue, the staff brought in your dishes. A classic Christmas dinner, consisting of turkey, dressing, mashed potatoes, ham, and vegetables was placed in front of you. On a small dish nearby, some cranberry jelly sat. You tried to hide the grimace at the red jelly. You were by no means a fan of the garnish, but you didn’t want to appear picky or ungrateful, especially considering the reason why you were having dinner with Namjoon in the first place.

Ever the attentive partner, Namjoon was keen on noticing your inner turmoil. “Is something not to your liking?”

“Uh, it’s just… I don’t really like cranberry jelly… That’s all.”

Namjoon looked utterly dumbfounded before letting out a joyful, booming laugh. “That’s all? Oh, (Y/N). You had me worried! I thought that I’d ruined the whole meal for you!”

His fork stabbed into a piece of turkey and he dipped the meat into the red gelatin.

“But, please do try the jelly. My brother and I, we made it for this occasion. I promise it’s nothing like the canned slop they sell in grocery stores.”

Namjoon made this? Now, this you had to try.

“Alright. Since you went through the effort of making it, I’ll give it a shot.”

You copied Namjoon’s actions of taking a slice of turkey and dipping it in the cranberry jelly. With the expression of a chef on Chopped, Namjoon eagerly watched as you placed the food in your mouth.

“Mmm! This is delicious! Namjoon, you should sell this! This is amazing!”

Another laugh came from Namjoon, although, this one had an arguably maniacal lilt. “Why, thank you, but I’m afraid that this specific batch is one of a kind. Besides, cranberry jelly isn’t the most profitable market out there.”

Little did you know that you had just ingested Kim Joonho’s coagulated blood. Perhaps that was why his cranberry jelly was one of a kind.

Merry Christmas.

#bwcssy2

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shewhowritesbooks · 3 years ago

Text

Live in the now

Remus was in a foul mood.

No it didn't have anything to do with the full moon.

Unfortunately, he couldn't always blame all of his shortcomings on the beast.

He poked at his breakfast eggs with frustration, and couldn't wait for the day to be over even though it had just begun.

Around him, James, Sirius and Peter laughed and continued their buffoonery. Remus wanted to join them but man he was really not feeling like himself today.

And for what? The reason was so utterly stupid that Remus would rather drown himself in the Great Lake before admitting it to anyone.

The bell rang overhead and they scuttled out of the Great Hall for their first lesson.

It was just a dream, Remus told himself, just a dream. Pull yourself together.

But it felt so real.

In part, it had been real. Once. Before he'd come to Hogwarts and found friends.

The dream he had had this morning was that Remus was left alone. Abandoned for the second time in his life.

It was only a dream but its effect lingered on him even after he had woken up. Some dreams did that to him, cheerful or daunting. It was as though he was drenched in some of them and then leaked the feelings soaked in him throughout the day.

'But Moony wouldn't like that.' James' voice pulled him out of his brooding.

'What?' Remus started. They were climbing the staircase now.

'I was saying that Moony wouldn't like to pull that prank because it would end up making him laugh. I figured that's something you're avoiding like the plague today.'

Remus gave him a flat look. 'It's nothing like that.'

'I have some evidence that would say otherwise,' said Sirius.

'And that would be?'

'Your face.'

Remus grunted.

'Go ahead,' said Sirius, 'you're only proving my point.'

Remus didn't reply and as though to drive James and Sirius' point home, he kept sulking all the way to their charms class.

Once there, he picked out his textbooks, quills and concentrated on the lecture. And things started to get better for a while. While he was learning, he was distracted. While he was learning, he didn't have time to ponder on his own thoughts. He was glad. As much as he liked his consciousness, it could be a real kicking pain in the gut at times.

If Remus was being honest with himself, the problem wasn't the dream, it was what the dream projected. Sure, everyone worried about these things right? Being left behind, having no one to care for, or be cared about by nobody, being stuck while everyone else kept moving forward with their lives.....

Everyone worried about these things. They made up the most common insecurities but it affected Remus worse than others. For one: Remus had already lived through that phase. He thought he'd accepted those unsettling possibilities. But here he was, wondering how long it would take before James, Sirius and Peter understood Remus was more trouble than it was worth.

Remus shook his head. He was treading in dangerous territory. He had to stop this line of thinking then and there or it would spiral into a disastrous episode.

So, Remus decided he just needed some time to let these feelings leak away from him. After the bell rang, he excused himself and went to the library. Reading would set his mind straight. And while he was alone, he wouldn't act like a prick around his friends.

So Remus pulled out a novel, picked a sunbathed spot near the window and submerged himself in the book.

He kept reading and reading until he didn't know where his life ended and that of the characters in the book began. Hours that went by without him thinking about a depressing imaginary of himself alone in some shabby apartment with wounded muscles and ripped clothes.

And then Remus halted. His eyes stuck at a single sentence written in the book.

“'Live in the now, Barbary,' said Third Sorcerer Great, 'chasing future has only left unadventurous past.'”

The evening breeze below past him, brushing his hair and cooling his cheeks.

Live in the now.

Remus was doing that, wasn't he?

'Yeah, if living meant hiding away in a corner,' a small voice inside his head said.

But he had to. Or else he would ruin the upbeat moods of others too. He had to sort out his.....worries for the future.

Remus closed his eyes, a hand on his forehead.

What was he doing?

Acting out because of a stupid dream that may or not may happen?

He sank a little lower in the chair as the absurdity of it all crashed over him.

Remus was smart, but Merlin's bread he acted like a crackhead. Of course he was allowed to feel how he wanted to, but maybe, just maybe, he didn't have to let the negative connotations rule his mood.

He got up, shutting the book and holding it under his arm.

'Alright, The Third Sorcerer Great,' Remus whispered, as he walked toward the dormitory where his friends would be shooting off wisecracks. 'I'll live in the now.'

#modern marauders #marauders fanfiction #james potter #remus lupin #sirius orion black #hogwarts #harry potter #young marauders

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tsu9live · 4 years ago

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Before I start, this is in no offence to anyone else’s opinion. You are all valid and probably make more sense than me. This is a bit of a rant and then a short character study.

Warning: This got too long.

I tend to come online for manga updates and ended up reading through opinion posts because I am a curious cat. Most of the time I come across really well-thought out posts, really valid points. But then MHA is also a soap opera/family drama where the main character is not supposed to have any progress in his story unless its to bolster or move along the other favs . But then they shouldn’t be bolstering his story either because why is a story about Deku’s journey all about Deku?

But then there are people who are happy Deku is finally edgy and they want him to wipe the floor with his classmates who love him and are willing to fight him if only to get through to him. So there are both extremes and honestly there is validity in all these thoughts because despite the writer’s intentions, a reader brings the story to life.

I personally hate making my own predictions because most of the time I feel it ruins the experience of reading a work for me. I go in with different expectations and when the story goes a different way I don’t enjoy it as much but I feel its more my fault.

So I do understand and respect the difference of opinion because there is no fandom without discourse.

In my opinion though, this Deku solo arc was a long time coming and I think Horikoshi has handled it really weird. I’m still trying to understand what he wants us to think about.

A story about heroes and putting your life on the line for someone else is controversial, but, I thought it was a given. Recklessness had been part of Deku’s character but an overly-cautious character would do nothing. Deku’s lack of self-preservation wasn’t unnatural for a hero, he rushed in to save Bakugo from the slime-villain when Pros stood by putting himself at risk but it spurred AM to act. Katsuki experienced it as well during the war arc, when his body moved to save Deku.

Going to Kamino to save Bakugo was suicidal, reckless and potentially flawed but story-wise it made sense. How is hero-work anything than risky? Kirishima and Todoroki initiated it.

Disclaimer: Deku, Bakugo, Uraraka, Momo, Toga and Shigaraki are characters that are very dear to me because they have had me extremely invested since the beginning of the story. This is my personal opinion, flaws, rant... basically me working through my feelings about this manga I had been obsessed with recently.

1) There is an opinion where Bakugo had a right to be upset/angry/bully Deku because he wanted to be a hero but did nothing for it. Firstly, I don’t understand the need to justify his behaviour when he himself has expressed regret on it. People want others to move on from the “go jump off the roof comment” but won’t stop talking about how everything about Bully Bakugo was justified. Deku was weaker, but he had the same dreams, dreams that were the basis of their friendship earlier on. Regardless of how Deku wanted to achieve them, Bakugo had no right to keep trying to stop him from doing so. No, 5, 10, 14 year old Bakugo did not do so because he had the brilliant foresight that Deku would be self-sacrificial and it was for his sake, he was an angry kid and Deku was a timid, wannabe that confused him, intimidated him even. Taking out his anger was a way of working through those feelings. He was in Deku’s words “a punching bag”. In a world where the powerful reign, Bakugo couldn’t understand how a quirk less, weak little boy could think he could stand shoulder to shoulder with someone as gifted as Bakugo. Yeah, society is very much to blame. The change and maturity Bakugo goes through where he is humbled by a cast of amazing hero students who are just as gifted yet with inspiring personalities and then traumatic consequences of being kidnapped, watching his hero use the last of his powers to hold back a great evil, having that fight with Deku where he bared himself open, failing the licensing exam, training with todoroki, the internship... the war has changed him in a way that has brought out his full potential as a hero and a person. There is a lot to admire about him yet I see so many people fixate on headcanons that glorify his every action/word instead of praising the amazing person he has become/how well written his growth has been.

2) “Deku wanted to be a hero and he did nothing for it”. “He could have been a quirkless hero like Batman.” Listen, the story is about AFO vs OFA first and foremost. Hori has done a good job of worldbuilding and adding a cast of interesting characters that its easy to forget what the main plot point of the story is. But it really is about a weak/timid boy who was born with a sort of handicap who dared to dream to be someone strong enough to have others rely on him instead. A lot of the times people want to become something they feel they needed, someone who gave people hope just by existing. Its natural for someone who is ‘considered useless’ to want to be the most useful person ever. His mother didn’t believe he could do it, Bakugo told him repeatedly he shouldn’t even try, everyone else made fun of him, and his hero gave him a wake-up call, no... you can’t be a hero without a quirk. Deku studied heroes and quirks all his life, hoping he’d find something that could work for his advantage. Not every hero relies on physical strength, their bodies are adapted to the nature of their quirks. Deku’s analysis, quick-thinking and impulsive nature is what helped him progress even after getting the quirk because he didn’t gain control until really late. People act like he was handed power, seem to forget he has just learned to use it without consequences. His studies of quirks also made him the best candidate to get new quirks, quirks that he has learned to utilise as tools quickly and efficiently. He was doing what he thought was going to help him become a hero without guidance, without backing and constant discouragements. Its admirable and relatable. If you don’t relate to him that’s fine, your life was different.

Batman was loaded. Deku is not an inventor. The Editors shot that idea down because it would not have survived in a genre where power fantasies are the main hooks. Aizawa, sure he’s training Shinso because he sees his potential now but he would have either expelled Deku/moved him to General studies on that first day for scoring the least in that test. He changed his mind not because of Deku’s quirk but because of Deku’s ingenuity.

When Deku did find his guidance, he tried to do years of work/training in a short period of time. He acknowledges how far behind he is, that the rest are leagues above him and all he wants is to be able to stand side by side with those incredible people and he would go to all lengths to do so. DEKU has never said he wants to be the number one hero. He always says he wants to be one so reliable he saves people with a smile and later on, he wants to be a hero that can save without having other people worry about him. Bakugo works hard, he’s not just exceptional he works hard for it, all of 1A do but saying Deku does nothing when he is constantly shown, studying, training his body, understanding his shortcomings and working on it is just petty. You don’t like him because of his saviour complex, newsflash, that is a hero thing. Hero course is about that, Deku’s is just highlighted because of how often he gets hurt. How can you be a Todoroki stan and hate Deku (although to be fair its your right, I’m just making a point), the kid saw Shouto and decided that it was more important for Shouto to stop hurting and gave him a hell of a fight. I still remember Shouto’s smile, it gave me goose bumps.

Deku’s lack of self-preservation is a part of his programming so much that he hasn’t noticed it yet. Deku broke his bones, but he didn’t realise the permanent damage. When Deku got injured with Muscular, he was never intending to fight him alone. He wanted backup, his phone was broken and he wanted to get Kouta out and tried but Muscular gave him no opening. He was driven into a corner and fought his way out. Like Aizawa said, “He got that injured because he has no intention of dying.” Before rushing to find Bakugo, he informed his superior first, knowing she can spread the message.

The fight with Stain, he messaged his location to all his classmates, didn’t intend to fight Stain alone, just defend Iida long enough for help to come along. Fight with overhaul, he just wanted to get Eri away and when he understood Eri’s power, he gave her the opportunity to fight back against her oppressor by teaming up with him, keeping her secure with the cape made out of Lemillion’s hair. During the whole fight he was present-minded enough to take the fight away from civilians and managed to prevent damage and casualties. During Natsuo’s rescue he played support.

During the war arc, he realised with despair that Shigaraki was coming in all his destructive glory for him and tried to stop him before but he didn’t object to Bakugo joining him. In the movie Heroes Rising (the initially planned ending) he willingly gave OFA to Bakugo, because he trusts him with his life, and was willing to be quirkless again if that’s what it took to keep the kids safe, and himself and Bakugo alive. Its mostly been good decisions on his part.

Its the war arc that’s been his downfall. Watching his childhood friend/rival almost die, his best friend, his mentors almost die while he could barely hold Shigaraki back set off a fight or flight response in him. The seriousness of how Shigaraki came for him and left such death and destruction in his wake because he was not strong enough and AFO is a monster and the sight of Shigaraki and the reality of his situation pushed him down the current path. His solo arc started well because constantly training in the field has helped him master his quirk, and he had the backup of the vestiges who trained and guided him in learning to use it as a toolset instead of a one-punch solution. Then coming face to face with the flaws of hero society and the power, manipulative nature and destructive intentions of AFO has prepared him emotionally. He is not acting like AM, he hasn’t in a while. He is acting like NANA and i don’t blame him because she’s in his head. No adult stopped him from doing this, instead using him as bait to lure out the league.

When they started realising he’s spiralling out of control, that’s when they realised they messed up.

He’s running on adrenaline/fumes alone and I think he’s actually terrified.

“AFO is OFA’s responsibility” “Tell the world I am here” “You’re not as strong as me yet,” “You are not a worthy successor”

Deku isn’t self-centered and but I agree with the screw loose comment (its years of “you are useless, not good enough, not worthy and I bet a dozen or so concussions, bloodloss, dehydration lol). I know Bakugo means well and that’s how he talks. At the moment, he’s probably the only one whose sole goal is Deku’s survival. Deku’s like a wild animal, terrified, lost and as always backed into a corner. AFO has him where he wants him and I am curious to see how class 1 A are going to get through to him. I don’t want them to fight, all those fanarts of Bakugo reaching his hand out to Deku and then maybe punching him in the face would have been a lot better then the mocking (the slow clap was a little triggering for me) but again maybe it just bothers me and Deku needs it. I’ll just have to wait and see. Deku and his class together would be an unstopabble force and I am waiting for that to finally happen.

P.S. Class 1 A looks so mature, everyone going crazy about Bakugo and his tie and I’m here like, look at baby Kirishima and his roots <3

I’m sorry if I gave anyone a headache lol.

#bnha spoilers #deku #personal rant #character study #midoriya izuku #bnha 319 #mha

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icedthoma · 4 years ago

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Oooohhh 13b for Bakugou or Todoroki? You can decide which to write for! Thank you 😊❤️ Congrats on 2k!!

sometimes

Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

13b. Patching up a wound + attack on titan au

Warnings: mentions of death, blood/injuries, Bakugou’s (not so) secretly soft for you, I spent way too long struggling to write this I hope it turned out okay

Captain Bakugou Katsuki of the Survey Corps is not a man of mercy.

In a world where human-eating titans rule the land outside the walls and hesitation means death, mercy is just another word for weakness, a liability to the survival of humanity.

Bakugou is anything but weak.

When he meets you for the first time, he immediately thinks, what is a person like you doing here? You smile too often, way too much for someone who’s seen the horrors of the titans beyond the walls and lived to tell the tale. You laugh in a way that’s infectious, one hand nudging everyone you talk to, whether that be a light brush against their elbow or a pat on their shoulder. You’re the kind of person who stops to smell the roses, and, to Katsuki, another delusional survivor only kept alive all these years because of pure luck and the sacrifices of your comrades. You’re too soft for this life, your hands not meant to be tainted with the metal of swords and blood.

In this line of work, Bakugou’s had to watch more comrades die than he can count, people he’s trained and eaten with lost forever to the cruelty of the world outside the walls.

He doesn’t want your pretty face to be added to the list of lost souls that haunt his nightmares.

If there’s anything he can do to stop that from happening, he’ll do it, which is why it comes to everyone’s surprise when he accepts you into his squad under Commander Aizawa’s recommendation. You fit in like a puzzle piece they hadn’t even realized was missing, absolutely adored by Kirishima, Sero, Mina, and Kaminari.

In the first few months you’re under his command, he quickly learns that his first impression of you was horribly, horribly wrong. Contrary to the person you are in the city, you’re ferocious on the battle field outside the walls, nothing different in the way you smile at the weapons in your hands like they’re flowers instead of swords as you slay titans with deadly precision. That doesn’t stop his eyes from wandering over to you more than necessary during expeditions, though, always needing constant reassurance that you’re still behind him.

“You worried about me, Captain?” you joke after you catch him looking at you one time too many, eyes shining with a trace of mischief and something else he can’t quite put his finger on.

(Bakugou rolls his eyes and tells the rest of his snickering squad to keep moving.)

He worries for everyone on his squad, those precious lives that have been entrusted to him and his abilities to get them all home in one piece. But it’s different when it comes to you.

Which is why when he learns you’ve been injured by an abnormal titan due to another recruit’s slip up, furious is too mild a word to describe how badly he wants to acquaint the idiotic soldier’s face with the sole of his boot. Kirishima, Ashido, and Denki are barely able to hold him back as he screams at the soldier, blood roaring in his ears.

"B-Bakugou!” Your voice calls to him from the other side of the courtyard, and it’s enough to snap him out of whatever rage he was about to fly into. “I mean, Captain Bakugou,” you add sheepishly, almost as an afterthought, and all four of them look up to see you limping across the yard with Sero’s aid. The sight of one of your legs wrapped in bandages stained red is almost enough to send Bakugou into cardiac arrest. “Please don’t blame him!”

“Why shouldn’t I?” Katsuki demands, throwing the hands of the rest of his squad off him. “It was his idiocy that led to this, so how can I not be angry?”

You open your mouth to respond, but your foot catches on an uneven section of the stone ground and you stumble forward with a surprised yelp. He’s there in a flash before Sero can protest, catching you in his arms and looking down at where you’re blinking quite rapidly, hands uncertainly sliding along his forearms to help you regain your balance.

“Everyone makes mistakes,” you say, casting an understanding look over to the recruit in the corner trembling at having experienced Bakugou’s wrath. “No one knows what’s waiting for us out there. I made the decision to save him, and it was due to my own shortcomings that I was injured in the process. If it has to be anyone’s fault, it’s mine.”

Bakugou’s mouth opens and closes multiple times, his throat seemingly constricted by an unknown force. You were the one that had gotten hurt, so why didn’t you hold any sort of resentment towards the man you had to save because of his own weakness? Eventually, he dismisses the rest of his squad and the recruit with a wave of his hand and grabs you by the wrist as soon as they leave. “Come on,” he says hoarsely. You don’t ask where he’s taking you, only sliding your arm around his shoulders in response as he leads you through the barracks all the way to the infirmary.

“Captain,” one of the medics acknowledges him with a nod and respectful salute. “I’m sorry--but we’re a bit short-staffed right now--”

“I just need an empty room.”

“I sure hope you know what you’re doing,” you joke as you gingerly lower yourself onto the bed in the corner of the room. While your tone is lighthearted, your hands shake as you struggle to undo the hastily wrapped bandages on your leg.

“More than you,” he scoffs, kneeling in front of you and taking off the cloth himself. You don’t say anything while he cleans your injury despite the fact that it must sting like hell, the only indication you’re in pain how you grip the edge of the bed so hard your knuckles begin to pale.

“You worried for me, Captain?” you ask quietly once he’s done, gaze fixed on his face and decidedly not on your leg. The longer Katsuki looks at your injury, however, the more he feels like throwing up. He’s seen his fair share of blood and gore, but the red on his hands is a grim reminder that he could have lost you that day without him knowing or able to do anything about it.

And that terrifies him more than if it were his own life on the line, even though Bakugou Katsuki is anything but weak.

Except, maybe, when it comes to you.

2k event masterlist

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hawkbucks · 4 years ago

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Tony Stark Quotes That Make Me Cry Constantly:

“Maybe one day, you can sing me a song.”

“Sorry, Tony...but Captain America's more important than you... Let's just hope I can keep him alive long enough...for Panther to get him out.”

“I need a day when there aren't twenty crises to deal with, but I don't see that coming any time soon.”

“I hate it when you look at me like that.”

“...The thing I can't live with has happened. And for all our back and forth--and all the things we've said and done to each other... For all the hard questions I've had to ask, and terrible lies I've had to tell... There's one thing that I'll never be able to tell anyone now. Not my friends or my co-workers or my President... The one thing! The one thing I should have told you. But now I can't... It wasn't worth it.”

“The stronger I make my armor, the longer I live! And I must live on! There is so much unfinished work to be done!”

“Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kingdom come, thy will be done...”

“Are you suggesting that I’m hallucinating?”

“Damn you. Damn you for making me do that.”

“Sound cliche, but I--I guess I always thought we’d grow old together. I figured, one day I’d hang up the armor, we’d change our names and run off somewhere. We’d just run off and be happy. It was a good dream, but it was a dream I had no business dreaming.”

“I guess I’m dying. I guess it doesn’t matter. I guess I don’t care.”

“You watched me suffer.”

“...it's so hard to fight you because I respect you. Because I love you. But... you're so wrong on this. So wrong.”

“I'm the devil. Stealing my Soul.”

“And I swear, as the man, Tony Stark--As the Avenger fate chose to cast in the role of Iron Man--That I will live to avenge those whose lives have been lost through the ignorance of men like the man I once was--Or I will die trying!”

“I killed ‘em all, Sal. I killed ‘em all.”

“You clearly know nothing about me, so here's a short bio for you. I used to make weapons for a living. I sold things that killed people. All I do is think about the lives I've destroyed. The only thing that used to give me a break from it was alcohol. But that only made things worse. You know what I learned, though, from all that drinking? That it's real easy to blame everyone else for what's gone wrong with your life. That's what I used to do, until the day I finally woke up and realized... Buddy, you brought this on yourself.”

“Did you do your best, Anthony? And did your best only make things worse?”

“Actually, I have lots of problems. What I mean is, I have a certain shortcoming: an idea gets stuck in my head--a bug crawls in my ear--and it infects my thinking. It doesn’t stop until it’s consumed my entire mind. Because I have this idea that’s been running through my mind. It’s overwhelming--all-consuming--and I can’t shut it off. This thing--our thing--it’s consumed me.”

#LOOK HOW HARD I CAN CRY.#THERE ARE ACTUALLY PROBABLY PAGES MORE OF QUOTES BUT THESE ARE THE ONES THAT REALLY MAKE ME C R Y.#alcohol cw #long post #GRRRRRRRRRRRRR I SHOULD MAKE AN ENTIRE PAGE ON MY BLOG DEDICATED JUST TO TONY QUOTES THAT MAKE ME SOB.

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batmanisagatewaydrug · 4 years ago

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Hey sex witch! I had sex with my girlfriend (both of us are cis women) for the first time recently and while it was a nice experience, I didn't manage to orgasm because I was too in my head about it. We talked about it and I explained to her it wasn't her fault but I can tell she feels quite bad about it. Do you have any tips for how to get into a more receptive headspace during sex? I tend to overthink a lot and I know that's causing me some mental barriers, although I'm happy to just be with her even if there's no "Happy ending" so to speak (not to be sappy but the real happy ending is just being with her) but I'd like to have that experience with her. Additionally do you have any advice on how to reassure her that it's not her fault? Even if it's just statistics or something I could quote to her, that would be helpful. Thank you for doing what you do and I hope you're keeping well!

hi anon,

we have a lot to talk about here, and in true sex witch style I’m going to begin by suggesting that we examine a bit of language you used and work to reframe it.

you mentioned explaining to your girlfriend that it’s not her fault you didn’t have an orgasm, and that’s true! but I would love to take that thought even further and point out that saying she isn’t at fault implies that somebody else is, because something happened that was sufficiently undesirable as to necessitate finding somewhere to place the blame.

that’s not the case at all! you said yourself that you had a nice experience, which should really be the only goal in mind anytime anybody has sex. (with the obvious exception of people trying to get pregnant, which also a very cool goal.) as long as everyone had a nice time, there’s really nothing to fret about at all.

but it sounds like you are blaming yourself, anon, based on the way you’re laying out what you’ve decided are your shortcomings in this area and the fact that you’ve asked for advice on how to fix them. and I hate to see that! so let’s talk about why neither you nor your girlfriend have done anything wrong and this is 100% completely totally normal and fine.

first off: you’re just... not going to orgasm every time you have sex. nobody is. it’s just not gonna happen! and that’s FINE. orgasms aren’t magical indicators of pure sexual pleasure, they’re muscle spasms that happen in response to certain stimuli. they’re nice, but they’re also not the defining factor of having good sex. (that would be, like, consent and mutual reciprocity and communication.)

second: this was literally the first time y’all had sex!!! I’m sure you have an absolutely lovely relationship, but learning how to have sex with a new person takes time and practice and, again, communication. it doesn’t matter how good sex in previous relationships might have been, there’s no universal Good At Sex skill that will let you give instant orgasms to every new partner.

each person has their own grab bag of likes, dislikes, sensitivities, wants, and needs to explore, and the exploration period with a new partner should be a time to have fun, ask questions, and keep an open mind, rather than kicking yourself because things don’t go the way you think they should.

third: speaking of the way you (and this is the hypothetical ‘you,’ dear anon, not you specifically) imagine sex should go - if I haven’t already made this clear, there’s no particular thing that’s supposed to happen during sex except that everyone present agrees to be having sex and has a pleasant time. that can involve any configuration of bodies, parts, positions, toys, kinks, and snack breaks that you like, and can end whenever you want. I tend to emphasize focusing more on quitting when it stops feeling good and/or being fun, rather than waiting for an orgasm to pop off.

since you trust me at least enough to ask my opinion on this, let me offer you some personal insight: I don’t really orgasm with partners. I mean, I don’t really have partners anymore, because I was on a year long no sex streak when COVID hit and it was all downhill from there, but back in the olden days, when I had sex with other people? I would tell them up front that they probably weren’t going to make me cum and that they shouldn’t worry about it too much or take it personally. getting that out of the way right off the bat was tremendously helpful, because it absolved everyone involved - myself included - of any expectation that we were waiting for me to cum and allowed us to focus on other, more interesting things, like literally every other part of sex.

am I saying that you should give up entirely? absolutely not! what I’m trying to communicate here is that “having an orgasm” is absolutely not the same as “having a cool and fun sexual experience,” and the faster we separate those ideas, the better.

fourth: “Makenzie this is all great, but what if I actually want to have an orgasm? how to I stop overthinking?”

okay, fine. if you’ve hung around this long you’ve earned the spicy secret sex witch tips for How To Do A Good Sex Every Time:

talk to your partner and keep having sex.

like, obviously have a big ol’ conversation about what your expectations are, how you’re defining “good” sex, ways to take that pressure off each other, etc. as one of my housemates generously pointed out while I was telling him about this (because living with me is an experience) talking about sex when you’re not actually having it is SO HEALTHY AND GOOD on every conceivable level. hop to it!

and then, like, just keep practicing. just keep having fun explorative sex to learn each other’s likes and dislikes with no baggage or expectations except growing your relationship and becoming more comfortable with one another. it’s amazing how much easier it is to relax and stop overthinking when you’ve put the work into building that kind of vulnerability and trust with another person.

#sex edventures 2021 #Anonymous

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ghoularaki · 5 years ago

Text

bury the king in his bones | 5

↠ summary: The legend of fallen a dragon king has been told you many times before that you now know it by heart. But, your caretaker disappears and leaves you with only the promise that this land is real and one day you must choose which path you take. With the threat deep within the forgotten kingdom causing the dead to rise and monsters to be born, will you stay nothing more than a pretty doll or will you go against your fate?

↠ word count: 6,701

↠ pairing: bakugou katsuki x reader, todoroki shoto x reader, iida tenya x reader

↠ genre/warnings: angst, fantasy au, blood, abuse (physical and mention of sexual), endeavor is a shit dad and husband but wbk, mistreatment of mystical creatures :(, todoroki is a dick, kidnapping

↠ a/n: yay we finally get to meet todoroki!! honestly this chapter pretty tame compared to the others one. i hope you enjoy reading!

Todoroki’s mother never did quite get used to the scorching heat of Pyros. Taken from her home, Grares, due to a war treaty, she was once surrounded by the cold. Grares was a tundra made up of witches and warlocks that wielded ice magic. They were a humble people that lived in small homes and didn’t believe in kings. The only egregious structures were not for human greed, but to honor the gods that had blessed them. There was no such thing as palaces or castles, but temples and shrines big enough many believed the gods built them themselves. Despite this, there were still High Priestesses that represented the land as they were not ignorant to how the outside world worked. Or rather their brother land that seeked power.

Thirty years ago was when Grares, a people sworn to be neutral, were threatened with war. An elvish king, a son of a martyr followed in his father’s footsteps. Todoroki Enji was nothing short of a tyrant. He knew that he could not live forever, for even elves were mortal, so as he promised his father he would produce a child so powerful they would wield both ice and flame.

The people of Grares only had one option — give their most powerful witch in between the ages of twenty and thirty or else be the first and last generation to see their tundra spark aflame. Rei, Todoroki’s mother, was the unfortunate soul to be sold off to a prideful king to be a breeding dog.

Her lungs burned and blackened as she was forced northward into Pyros to meet her soon to be husband. Rei could not deny that Enji was a winsome man, but physical beauty can only last so long. Underneath the chiseled face was a man with an angry soul that raged on with envy. He wanted to be great, too.

They both tried to make the best of what was given to them. Enji even gave her flowers in a poor sign of courtmanship, but Rei knew she was only there to give him an heir. In time and time again as Rei failed to give the selfish king a child that had both their powers, he grew violent, agitated. He blamed her for both their shortcomings and Rei could do nothing but try to show her other children the love their father never gave them. Touya, Natsuo and Fuyumi were all thrown away like broken dolls. Enji didn’t even cry when his eldest child, Touya — one that showed the most potential with his blue fire, disappeared and was later pronounced dead. Maybe it was the fear. Blue did always burn hotter than red.

All seemed bleak until the day Todoroki was born.

A child born split in half, one side of his features held his mother's white hair and grey eyes while the other had his father's crimson hair and turquoise eyes. It was like the sun and moon were merging down the center of his face. He was cursed to have not only his features be in two, but his powers to be yin and yang, fire and ice. Todoroki was his father’s perfect heir, and his mother’s worst fear. She couldn’t help how it haunted her that his right side resembled his father’s so much.

Todoroki was six when he learned what hatred does. His father pushed and pushed everyone in the family until they couldn’t give any more. His mother was no different. She may be the queen of the most powerful kingdom in the land, but she was still human. It was another fight with Rei begging to let Todoroki be a child for once, that her son shouldn’t be throwing up with how exhausted he was. Enji only roared back that he must make up for his mistakes. She couldn’t handle being in the blistering heat anymore. The queen missed how the slightest wind turned her skin a lovely blue.

It was mere coincidence that Todoroki stumbled out of his bedroom, begging for his mother to tuck him back in despite her obvious descent into madness. Children are naturally selfish, but all she saw was her husband’s face in her child’s visage.

“You look so much like your father,” she spat.

In blind rage, she cursed him to be as ugly as his father’s soul. That any time he resembled his father in the slightest, his right side would be overtaken. Though, as she heard her son cry out in pain, she instantly regretted the incantation and tried to fix it. In her desperation, she forgot that a witch’s spell cannot be reversed by their own hand and it backfired. Sobs ripped through her chest as she saw her child scream in pain as a scar etched into the right side of his face. The once pure skin was blemished with blistering flesh that spread across his inner eye to his temple, covering where eyebags should be and up his forehead.

Todoroki did not blame his mother for what she did since he knew it stemmed from his father’s abuse. After that day, his mother was pulled far away from him, never to be seen again. Though, he knew she was not killed as his father couldn’t bring himself to do it. Every couple months, his father would bring snow drops — his mother’s favorite flowers native to Grares — as he disappeared for the rest of the day. But flowers could not make up for the torment he still bestowed upon the family.

Even though no one wanted to admit it, Todoroki was very mature for his age. Since he could understand his native language it was ingrained into his head that he was meant to be the next king.

He was seven when he had first met you. He was well aware that you, a bratty six year old was meant to be his future bride and for that he was disgusted by you. Todoroki hated how he had to be pulled from his home just to come to this rainy dump of a land to see a whiny little girl that knew nothing of duty. It didn’t make sense to him; why he had to deal with over a fortnights worth of travel to visit you while you stayed in your cozy, little palace.

Yet, Todoroki was many things, but not obtuse. For a long time, he blamed you with the fact that he never got to be a child while you got to play in that damned courtyard until he saw the guard in every corner along with your caregiver. You were never left unsupervised. Every move you made was watched, calculated. For your whole life you had to walk down the same exact corridors. Yes, you got to play in your little courtyard surrounded in pretty pillars, but a cage is still a cage despite how decorated.

He knew that you were born out of wedlock, a bastard child birthed from a whore and a king’s infidelity. For a while, this knowledge vexed him. Why did he have to marry an unwanted princess, someone not even meant to be born? Though as time passed, he knew you couldn’t be to blame. Maybe you were just as trapped as he, but he hated you all the same.

Todoroki was eight when he realized what true power was.

In the whole land from the southern edge of Grares all the way to the tiny island of Fir, everyone knew of the Ancient War. No one knew what had happened in those dark times, but all they knew was to keep silent about it. Even the mention of it was forbidden. Enji had forbade any talk, any whisper of the war and anything that wasn’t approved by him or the Capital would be sentenced to death. Out of pure fear, no one knew why this was but no one dared questioned the king.

That was until Todoroki got too curious. His whole life, he was allowed anywhere besides near his siblings and his father’s chambers. Since the disappearance of his mother he had become disobedient, cursing any demand his father had made. Within the palace, it was a cold night like every other night in the deserts of the Capital. Little fire sprites lit up the lanterns, faces dull from being overworked. Todoroki with his own lantern in hand, he fed the tiny creature a piece of coal which chirped in happiness at finally being given a snack. His small feet pattered against the cool stone tiles as he made his way into his father’s chambers.

His father was away somewhere so Todoroki wanted to fuel his need to know what was so hidden that he wasn’t allowed even in the same corridor. He had open draw upon draw until he stumbled upon an old document of war. At first he thought it was the one to threaten the people of Grares before his mother was the sacrificial lamb, until he saw the name signed at the bottom. It was not his father’s, but his grandfather’s that had long since passed. He knew nothing of what this could mean, but before he could decipher it, his father had stormed into the room.

The little sprite flickered in fright as it tried to hide within the glass lantern. His father screamed words that Todoroki could not remember as he was hit so hard that he dropped the lamp. Glass littered the ground like snow to which the sprite made its escape, wanting to help but knew it was powerless in this situation. Todoroki clattered to the ground with the lantern, the glass digging into his forearms. His father beat him until he was a crying, bloody mess. Weak, he had felt weak, but he didn’t want to feel that way anymore. An ill rage filled his small body, a rage that had massacred armies before.

He wanted to maim his father like he had done to everyone else in his family. After that thought, Todoroki’s memory to this day had turned up blank. All he knew was that after that day, his father had never laid a hand on him or his siblings ever again.

For the first time, when Todoroki had to visit you he wasn’t so reluctant. All he wanted was to have something distract him so he didn’t have to think of what happened in his father’s chambers. Every eight months or rather every other season, but it was hard to tell because it was always summer in Pyros, Todoroki would come to visit you for about a week.

Since he had met you, your caregiver was always there. She was a beautiful woman even young Todoroki could understand that. Though he felt a deep envy for the love she had for you since Todoroki never knew love besides his mother before she broke down and was ripped away from him. She was sweet and tried her best to care for Todoroki as well. Kamina was her name, Todoroki remembered and it matched her well. Sometimes, he felt bad that she constantly had to separate you two, but you made Todoroki so annoyed. He could tell that you loved her just as much, even more with how you looked at her as if she was the sun and everyone else were mere planets orbiting around her.

Though, one day at the age of ten, years after that incident with his father did he come to your palace again to only see that you were alone and there was a haunted look in your young gaze. He had heard rumors that a month prior to his arrival that Kamina had attempted to escape with you in tow, but ultimately failed.

Usually when he arrived you would have fought tooth and nail for him to go away, screaming the whole week he was there but for once you were silent, so silent that it chilled Todoroki. It was a cold day when the Princess that was more fiery than the deserts of Pyros became a cold marble. It was that day that Todoroki saw a queen be born.

He put your quietness on the backburner, knowing that you would be the same again. Not like it was any of his concern in the end.

Two years later when Todoroki visited again, he was more angered than usual due to his father being insist and making him practice sword fighting and his powers until he threw up. At this point, he should have been used to it by now, but he didn’t feel well. He was not in the mood to deal with you. He was right that you were back to your usual, annoying self. When he came back to the place he hated even more than his homeland, nasty words were on his clenched teeth.

It seems you were just as mad, most likely to the knight that was following you around. He later found out his name was Iida Tenya, a knight from the Isles of Viren, meant to be your personal guard. He knew it had less to do with protecting but more about keeping you in line and a man sworn to duty was the best for the job. Even with this information, he thought nothing of the knight that hung back by the pillars within the courtyard.

You sat on the ground making the flower crowns as you always did. There was a time when you would make them for Todoroki to wear out of politeness and Kamina said to make peace with the prince but he burned them. He never understood why your eyes were so sad as you watched the woven daisies go up in flames.

He didn’t remember how it started but you were screaming insults at him and honestly he was sick of how much of a brat you were and he wanted to say something that would hurt, that would hurt deeply.

With such sharp grace like the swords he wielded he said awful things about your late caregiver and blamed you for her disappearance. To be honest, he had no clue what happened that night, like everyone else besides you. Maybe if you both were closer he would have asked what happened to the woman that was the closest to a mother you would ever receive. He was not naive to how the Queen belittled and smacked you until your face was swollen. It only got worse since Kamina’s disappearance. You two were more alike than he cared to admit.

The second the words registered in your head, your mouth snapped shut. Now face to face, he saw the deep sadness and ire that mixed in your watering eyes. But you refused to let him see how much his words affected you. With a greedy inhale you peer down at him from under your nose despite him being taller. Just like that cold marble the day he saw you become when you first lost her, you spared him one last haunted gaze before you whipped around to go to your knight. You did not wobble or falter as you walked away from the Prince. You were truly regal and you always have been. And he hated how natural it came to you while his duty was beaten into him since the day he could walk.

Todoroki shook off the reminisce of nostalgia as he leaned his head against the carriage that led him to the palace. A curse slipped past his lips as his temple thumped against the wooden casing when his ride came to a stop. His lips pursed into a grumpy pout, sneering at the pain. Annoyed, he opened the window of the carriage door to see he had arrived at the palace in the heart of Mikkia. Your home.

The sun was set in the sky to symbolize it was about twilight. Not patient enough to wait for a servant to open the door for him, Todoroki did it himself. He may have been a prince — soon to be king — but he was not a pampered brat. Though, as the wooden door swung open he didn’t expect the palace to be so chaotic. He tried to brush it off as everyone stressed about the fact that the wedding was to be in mere hours. It was tradition in Viren that royal weddings to be held at night as fireflies were a symbol of good fortune.

This was different, though. It was as if everything was in shambles. The dead giveaway was the Queen who bit at the nail of her thumb as her eyes bounced around as if looking for something or someone. When her eyes finally locked onto Todoroki’s, her nose crinkled in a weak snarl. Taking that as his cue, he sauntered out of the carriage. He had ignored the frantic servants that stopped to bow before him to make conversation with the Queen. With a wave of her hand, the servants went back to their bustling.

“Why is everyone so frantic?” Todoroki asked. His tone borderline dull despite his curiosity. He was just glad that his father had not come per usual or else he would have everyone’s head for not being orderly.

The Queen pulled an ugly expression of contempt. She licked her teeth with irate fervor before answering.

“The princess is gone.”

“Gone?” He was stunned and confused. Too little information was given for him to quite comprehend what he had been told.

“The little bitch and her knight were found missing this morning,” the Queen seethed.

The more angered she becomes, the more liken to a snake her visage formed into.

Once again, Todoroki was stunned. He had no idea what to feel. Todoroki was not ignorant to how much you despised him and the thought to marry him, yet he never thought you would go to this extreme. Yes, you were just as reluctant as him to not be wed, or even be on the throne. He was aware that you thought that if you were his Queen that you would be a puppet. A doll to place onto the throne of the right of him that didn’t not speak or think. A decoration so Todoroki could have full power over both Kimera and Viren.

Despite the mutual hatred between you two, Todoroki would have never let you be a Queen similar to his mother. As irritating as you may be, you would never become a breeding dog. Even if he hated you, he would never let a human be susceptible to that torture if its within his power.

The prince did not know if he felt anger or admiration that you actually had the courage to run away. A power that he didn’t possess. The part of the news that confused him the most was that Iida was found missing along with you.

Just like Todoroki, Iida was a man of duty. The more he thought of it, Iida most likely found that you ran away and chased after you to bring you back. Yet the knight did have a weak spot for you, finding it difficult to not follow wherever you went and cling onto every word you said. Iida was the only true friend you had, Todoroki understood well, and the knight would collect all the stars in the sky just for you to smile towards him.

But Todoroki knew you longer and wasn’t one to fall for your charms. You were impulsive and rarely thought your actions through. He had seen it many times before that you let your heart guide you and not your brain. You were passionate to a fault. And this was another example of you being an irresponsible idiot. Todoroki knew what he must do.

The prince glared directly into the Queen’s eyes, “I will retrieve the princess and her knight for you since a whole damn palace can’t keep one sheltered little girl and her dog contained.”

The Queen flinched at his tone, but made no move to defy him.

“Is there anything you will need for your journey?”

Todoroki peered into the palace, down the open corridors that would eventually lead down to where your room sat. “A horse and my dual swords, it shouldn’t take long for him to find them.”

The Queen gave a perturbed look, “why the swords?”

“Just in case,” was all Todoroki spat.

Now, he had no ill intent with those swords, but he knew that you would fight back and if you did, your knight would soon follow through. Anything to protect his darling princess.

As he made his way to the stables, Todoroki scowled at the ivory horse he had chosen for his journey. His mission was to retrieve you whether you came kicking and screaming or not was not to appease his father or the people. Todoroki was not stupid, but a silent diplomat. It was about time for a new era to emerge in the kingdoms of Kimera and Viren. One where the people didn’t live in fear and if that meant you must be by his side, then so be it. But your tantrum was not going to deter him from his goal.

He mounts the enormous beast, the saddle already put on. Todoroki tries to think of where you must have escaped from. You weren’t allowed many places so the options were easily limited. He batted away the tragic realization that he had been to more parts of your own home than you have. You most likely didn’t even know you had a stable. Todoroki clicked his tongue at his stupid thought process. It didn’t matter, all that did was him returning you here.

Since you had no clue where most entrances or exits were in the palace, Todoroki narrowed it down that you had escaped through the old maid chamber’s where you were found when your caregiver attempted to kidnap you. There were woods there you must have ran towards. Even if he didn’t want to admit it, Todoroki knew how you were and he trusted his intuition. Knowing where he can start tracking you, he steered his horse to the woods. He gave the Queen a blank look as he passed by her but his gaze spoke a million words.

The horse’s hooves thumped against the grass covered ground as he spun away from the palace. Trees with outstretching arms welcomed Todoroki down the path you had run along. His heterochromic eyes glared into the pathway where your footprints lead him deeper down the path.

Assuming you had left by night, he was almost a day behind you. Keeping this in mind he galloped into the forest, the trees enlarging until the completely dwarfed Todoroki and his horse. The moon was high in the sky when he made it to the cliff side that leads to a small neighboring town. Trodding down until he reaches people, he glares at how they go about their night, never meeting his eye. As he reached the end of the town, he saw an older man raise a brow at him in wonder.

Skidding to a stop, Todoroki asked the man, “Have you seen a girl come passed here?”

“Yeah, and what about it?” The man had a gruff way of speaking and Todoroki disliked his tone.

“Can you tell me where she went?” He bit out.

“Told her the head towards town, said something about the Hydrian sea.”

Todoroki pinched his lips at this information, “Thank you.”

He didn’t let the man speak another word as he whipped the reins of the horse with a guttural ha! The prince kept this information in mind as he rode towards the town he assumed you were taking refuge in for now. He knew that you weren’t an idiot and wouldn’t dare stay stagnant in one place for long. Todoroki just hoped he could get to you before you migrated somewhere else. A game of cat and mouse was not one he would be too fond to play as of now.

Determined to catch you before it was too late, he rode for the rest of night towards the small town. He arrived by late morn.

His face twisted at the thick smell of filth and cow manure. The muddy ground squashed beneath the horse’s hooves. Todoroki was happy that he didn’t have to sink his feet in what he can only assume was dirt and shit. Once again, he despised Mikkia’s murky weather for this exact reason.

The town, though, was larger than the smaller one he had visited. There were actual stores and guards that bowed their heads when he trodded towards them.

“What brings you here, Your Majesty?” One of them asked.

“Have you seen a girl go by here? She would have long hair, royal markings on her hands and possibly a scarf to cover her face.”

“Royal markings, Your Majesty?” The guard inquired, perplexed. “Is this about the princess?”

“Have you seen her or not?” Todoroki sneered. He did not have time for this.

“No I have not, Your Majesty.”

Todoroki rolled his eyes at the over formality. “Would you quit with the ‘Your Majesty’ after every goddamn sentence, it is brain numbing.”

“I’m sorry,” the guard bowed his head.

He waved away the apology as he scanned the area for places you could possibly have stayed in. You were most likely exhausted when you treaded into this town seeing as you didn’t stop at the town miles away from here. His eyes darted to the tavern not too far from him with a vacancy sign.

Todoroki rode past the guard towards the small building. At the door did he hop off the horse and tied the reins to a pole close by. He walked in with a posh air, already wanting this hunt to be over. Behind the counter was a woman cleaning a glass and when she looked up, she pulled her lip in disgust at Todoroki. To be honest, he felt quite offended.

“Are you another stick-in-the-mud royal guard going to harass me? I already had to deal with another one this morning at ass crack of dawn.” The woman jutted out her hip as she laid a hand on her waist.

“What do you mean?” Todoroki questioned, sauntering over towards her.

She raked her eyes up and down his body, glaring holes at the obvious royal clothes he wore even though they were nothing from Mikkia or even Pyros. They were traditional clothes from Grares, better suited for Mikkian weather and if he had to be married than he would rather it be in the side of him he actually claimed.

“A guard bombarded me this morning about a missing princess or something of that sort. I told him multiple times I didn’t see anyone like that but he didn’t believe me so I finally kicked him out.” Her hands were flippant as she spoke, obviously not caring who she was talking to.

“I see,” Todoroki began, leaning in towards her in hopes to intimidate, “well, did you see any girl passing by here. Especially if it was in your establishment?”

The woman gave him an untrusting expression before frowning that accentuated her smile lines.

“Are you going to hurt her?” The woman asked, voice nearly cracking at the end.

“I have no intention to,” that part was true but the next thing he spoke wasn’t, “I just want to get her back. She’s a very long way from home.”

Her eyes bounced between both the Prince’s eyes, searching for a lie. When she had found none, she let out a heavy hearted sigh. “Last night a young woman had come into the tavern seemingly out of place. I offered a room down the hall, but when I went to get her in the morning she was long gone. The only trace she left was the window she left open. I can only assume she had crawled through it to escape. What? I have no idea. I hope the poor thing is okay.”

Todoroki nodded along with the information. You must have heard the guard looking for you and had made your escape.

Clever girl, he seethed in his head. But not clever enough.

“Par chance, could you tell me what is near the window she had crawled out of?”

“Oh, just some old woods, but only the men that go hunting dare go inside. It’s infected with wolves.” The woman then gasps, “you don’t think she went in there, do you?”

Todoroki’s breath hitched in his throat at the thought of you alone in the woods with wolves swarming the area. Yet, calmed again when he remembered that Iida was with you. You were a fucking fool and he had all the more the reason to drag you back to the palace. You were going to get yourself killed.

“Who knows. Thank you for the information.”

The woman nodded her head in goodbye and went back to cleaning the glass. Right when Todoroki was at the door, she called out to him.

“I don’t know if this is anything helpful, she has asked about a land past the Hydrian if that’s of any significance.”

His face fell at those words.

“It does.”

At that, Todoroki slammed the door closed and stomped to his horse that was amazingly still where he left it. He heaved himself back onto the ivory beast and steered it towards the woods behind the tavern. The horse whined at the force in which its head was turned but kept silent after. Todoroki didn’t mean to be so rough, but he felt a rage built within his belly.

Not once should he have questioned how folly you could be. He was not blind to how your caregiver filled your head with tales of an abandoned kingdom closer to us than everyone of this generation has known. Of course, you would go out on a half ass planned journey to this place that you didn’t even know existed.

Todoroki will bring you back home, whether you like it or not. And so the game of cat and mouse had begun.

Days have passed since Todoroki broke past the treeline of the town to track you down. You weren’t very discrete, always leaving a trail of where you and Iida made camp. He had followed that up until he reached the borders of Vignia, the snow now covering your trace.

The prince was well aware of the Barbarians that resided in Vignia and decided to stick close to the edge of the tundra where lake Zkathli was to avoid the tribe. Now with no way to follow you, he aimed to Kenan where the port cities are since that would be where you could get a boat.

A gust of wind clawed at Todoroki’s cheeks, rubbing them a bloody red. A shiver ran down his spine, he was glad that he wore Grares traditional clothes instead of Pyros or otherwise he would have frozen to death. He only hoped you were smart enough to do the same. Yawning, the horse swayed as it walked through the snow. Todoroki felt bad for the horse that had to endure the harsh winter, but he had no other choice. Throughout the journey, Todoroki had regulated his heat levels with his fire magic, but could only do so much.

The hues of the pine trees blended together and he was sure he would go insane if he had to spend any longer in this monochrome state. Not too far, Todoroki heard a squeaky yawn mimicking his own. Out from the corner of his eye he saw a flash of blue. Whipping his head to the right, there hiding behind a snow painted branch was a winter pixie.

Seeing that they were caught, they floated towards the prince with no fear. The little creature sniffed the air and then squeaked in happiness. With no shame, they rubbed their bluish cheek against Todoroki’s cold one.

The prince only blinked in confusion. “Can I help you?”

More pixies started to appear out of the woodwork, sniffing along the horse and his stuff. They all seemed delighted with whatever smell Todoroki and his horse gave off. He was well aware that pixies did not speak the common tongue, but he was left wondering why they were so attached to him.

“Do I know you?” Todoroki questioned.

The pixie that had approached him first, shook their head and then pointed at the horse followed by tapping their nose.

“The smell of my horse?”

They nodded their head with a grin, pin needle teeth and all. Todoroki kept walking through the woods as he played guessing games with the pixies. He had no clue what they were trying to convey. Eventually, they got aggravated and tugged onto the crest that was stitched into the saddle for the horse. It was the symbol of the kingdom of Viren, a unicorn with a sea serpent tail that was also welded into the bicep of Iida’s suit of armor.

“Do you recognize this symbol?”

They all let out high pitched hurrays and nodded their heads. Before he could ask how, one of them cupped their hands into O’s and put them to their eyes to mimic glasses. Another moved their arms and hands in a stiff rapid way, similar to Iida’s.

A lopsided smile graced his face as he huffed in disbelief. “Are you talking about the knight? Was he accompanied by a girl around the same age as him?”

They clapped their hands, happy he knew who they were talking about. Though, at the mention of you, they seemed sad.

“Do you know where they went?”

The first one to float towards him, whimpered and shook their head. The pixie seemed to miss you the most with how their beady eyes bubbled over with longing.

“I see,” Todoroki grumped.

He had wasted so much time playing games with woodland creatures, only to find no information useful. Though, the game did pass the day by and quench his loneliness for a while.

Sensing they were no longer wanted, the pixies dispersed back into the trees, the memory of you only seeming farther away now. To each other, Todoroki and the pixies, their presence only brought a phantom of you, no closer to their goals.

Todoroki never feared the dark, it was just something he was never accustomed to. His life was filled with light in some way or another. Every inch of the palace was covered in fire whether it be a physical flame or how gold impersonated it. His father never let the palace be filled with blackened night, maybe he was the one who feared it.

Even as a child, he wasn’t scared of monsters hiding under his bed when he knew they took place upon the throne. Fairy tales were not something he enjoyed even when at the sliver of time his mother told old stories from Grares. Yet, you always trembled when the sun slipped down the horizon to embed himself into the earth.

You were always gullible and believe every dark tale Todoroki told you as some sort of petty revenge. Monsters and phantoms that crept in the marble pillars, hidden in your bed sheets when you weren’t careful were his favorite stories to spin.

The prince never feared the dark, but here he was treading across the snowy land with trembling hands. Weeks have passed since he last saw those pixies that had left him empty handed. Todoroki thought he was used to loneliness after years of isolation, but in these woods with nothing but his horse and the glowering moon, he craved human interaction.

Strong willed as he may be, no human was susceptible to the ache night brings. So like all those years from the palace, he had pulled out his sword and lit it up with fire for the comfort of light. But against the backdrop of white, the flames had dyed the area a rose red. Red like his hair, red like the royal ink on your hands, red like his father’s anger, red like blood.

Todoroki prayed he found you soon because he didn’t know how much longer he could take this bloody cold.

Be careful what you wish for, Todoroki’s eldest and only sister, Fuyumi, had once told him. He, a stubborn child, did not listen. Now, more than ever did he wish he heeded her lesson.

After what seemed to be centuries — but in retrospect about a week — did Todoroki finally break away from the eternal winter of Vignia. He had made it along the border of Kenan with his horse in tow. Immediately he went to an inn in search of a proper bed and food. Todoroki in that month in those woods survived solely on berries and rabbit meat, the rare occasion he managed to catch the sly creatures.

When he finally made his way into civilization, he did not expect for his horse to be stolen and a burlap bag over his head. Todoroki did not think himself a fool, but he was confused as to why he was so openly kidnapped, by pirates nonetheless. Though, that question was quickly answered when one of his kidnappers first insulted his intelligence and then told him that after the borders of Mikkia, royalty held no immunity.

Before he could even try to escape, he was bludgeoned over the head, galaxies clashing together beneath his eyelids. When he awoke, he was in a cell with wooden walls and iron bars. First thing he noticed was the strong smell of sea salt mixed with rotting fish, and second that he was stripped bare of his weapons.

For hours the prince sat there with sweat and muck collecting on his porcelain skin. Todoroki thumped his head against the wall as he peered down his nose at the bars, willing them to break. He could melt the bars but his skin would melt with the metal. Yes, his own fire couldn’t penetrate him, though surrounding objects he couldn’t say the same. A burning frustration blazed inside of him from being so careless. His search for you had already been long enough, he can’t do with such a delay.

Resonating footsteps pounded against the wooden ground of what Todoroki contemplated was the bowels of an old ship.

A singsong voice bellows, “Oh Prince, you’ve got company.”

Out from the corner is three men carrying four bodies over their shoulders. In the cell in front of him, the iron cell door opens with a rusty squeak followed by the sound of three limp bodies hitting the ground. What he did not expect was to recognize one of the men dropped into the cell. Just like he was, the men had burlap bags over their head, but Todoroki could remember a Knight from the Isles of Viren. If Iida was here, you must be, too.

As if reading his thoughts, another body was thrown into his cell. Liken to dominos when his cell door shut so did the other. With no further chatter, the pirates that had kidnapped all of you, whisked away.

Todoroki was quick to crawl towards you, a deep set frown etched into his full, chapped lips. He turned your comatose body over so you laid on your back instead of how you were tossed on your side. He laid your head on his lap and pulled the bag from your head. His eyes scan for any injuries besides the tender spot on your skull similar to his.

His vibrant turquoise and dark taupes bounce down to your legs, only to notice blood that had caked the material. Heart jumping onto the back of his tongue, he moved the thick fabric with a hole for there to be no wound. The prince sighs in relief that you were alright, shoving aside his curiosity to why he cared so much.

With a deep scowl, he breathed out, “What the hell happened to you, Y/N?”

#bnha fantasy au #todoroki x reader #todoroki shoto x reader #shoto x reader #bnha x reader #todoroki shoto #bakugou x reader #iida x reader #bnha #iida tenya #bakugou katsuki

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asterekmess · 4 years ago

Note

1-11 Scott/Posey Stans always try to deflect criticism of the way Scott McCall is written in Teen Wolf by claiming that ANY attempt by a fan, a viewer, or a critic of holding Scott to a level of behavior that one would expect of a character who is a main and the self-proclaimed hero of the show is “racism”. Except that their accusations don’t make any sense whatsoever, because Scott’s canonical shitty actions and behavior don’t stem from his race (or canonical lack of thereof.)

Okay hun, this is a doozy, so I’m putting it under a Read More.

2-11 Scott McCall is mean. He’s mean to Stiles, he’s mean to Allison, he’s mean to Derek, he’s mean to Peter, he’s mean to Cora, he’s mean to Lydia, he’s mean to Jackson, he’s mean to Erica, he’s mean to Isaac, he’s mean to Malia, he’s mean to Malia, he’s mean to Kira, he’s mean to Liam, he’s mean to Chris, and he’s even mean to Theo (“You are barely even human!”) Scott McCall is deliberately rude to the Hales, Boyd, Ethan, Danny, Hayden, Jiang, Tierney, and Melissa.

3-11 Scott McCall deliberately USES, INSULTS, HUMILIATES and DEHUMANIZES people in ways that demonstrate that he is fully aware of what he’s doing. Scott McCall deliberately disregards other people’s needs in order to fulfill his own. Tyler Posey being half Mexican doesn’t change the fact that his fictional character Scott McCall is a whiny coward and an abusive piece of trash,

4-11 and that his so called ‘defense squad’ enjoys the power fantasy that Scott can be cruel, can lie, can assault, can lash out, can violate other people’s boundaries, bodily autonomy and consent, can commit premeditated murder, can break the law without impunity, can dehumanize, can gaslight and victim blame his friends to his heart’s content and no one should ever hold it against him

5-11 In both the production and in some Scott supremacist fanfics, there’s often the premise that people are evil and in the wrong if they call Scott out on his bullshit or hold his toxic behavior against him. Take Season 1. As much as the Scott McCall defense squad brigade love framing Stiles and Derek getting shit done and prioritizing people’s life over Scott’s jealous fits and temper tantrums as the height of depravity

6-11 Scott/Posey Stans consciously and steadfastly ignore all the cruel things that Scott says and does throughout the seasons, such as “How much Adderall have you had today?” OR “What are you trying to do?! I just made first line! I got a date with a girl who I can't believe wants to go out with me and everything in my life is perfect! Why are you trying to ruin it?!” OR “The hunters had a reason to slaughter your entire family and pack”

7-11 (As an aside, it’s amazing to me how Fanon rewrites Scott as this brilliant thinker and strategist and mastermind who is so much smarter and better than everyone else in every way even though Canon Scott spends the entirety of Teen Wolf doing absolutely nothing except get his ass handed to him by everyone, whining about wanting to be popular/get his dick wet/play lacrosse, screaming at his friends and girlfriends, being utterly useless when left to his own devices,

8-11 and planning to bite Stiles against his will because he doesn’t know what to do. But I digress.) Or take Season 5. In the rain argument in Lies of Omission (5x09), Scott McCall’s hypocritical, dehumanizing speech to Stiles is one of the meanest, cruelest, most disgusting manipulations I have ever seen a television character deliver to another television character they supposedly cared about. It’s victim blaming and gaslighting at its vilest.

9-11 And, of course, the Scott McCall defense squad focuses exclusively on the idea that Stiles didn’t behave “the right way” in that scene (AKA taking Scott’s bullshit without clapping back like Scott wanted and demanded), and cannot entertain for one moment the idea that Scott provoked that response by dehumanizing Stiles and by accusing Stiles of being a violent, dangerous, inhuman monster and serial killer based on Theo’s words alone.

10-11 After all, it’s part of their power fantasy. Scott being “abandoned” and “mistreated” by his “ungrateful” friends serves another type of fantasy: the poor oppressed martyr. It doesn’t matter why Scott is abandoned or who is leaving Scott, it’s all about Scott McCall’s right to own people and demand his friends’ love, friendship, loyalty, sympathy, forgiveness, obedience and devotion without having to account for his own abusive behavior.

11-11 And that’s Scott Stans’ point: Only Scott McCall Is Important and Damn Derek/Stiles/Liam/Other Teen Wolf character for having a life and motivations that don’t revolve around Scott! To them (and to Canon Scott), the pack exists not to serve all its members, but to serve and validate Scott McWhinyCall. Because, after all, that’s what antis want for themselves – validation in the face of shortcomings and bad behavior.

Wow, that was a lot of anger. Do you feel any better after venting that? I really hope so, it honestly looks p cathartic. Okay, I apologize in advance if I don’t come across as quite so passionate, I’m kinda bleh today and I already used up all my righteous fury in an earlier post, so I’ll do my best.

I honestly understand the worry about people disliking Scott as having racist motivations. As I said in another post, there aren’t a lot of Latino (wait, I read somewhere to use latine? Should I use that instead? I’ll use that, someone correct me if I’m wrong. The thing also said latinx was not great bc of pronunciation issues? I’m not educated enough on this. Halp, please.) Latine protagonist characters in popular television, especially for teen dramas like Teen Wolf. Intentional or not, written into the show or not, Scott is half-latine. His mother is a latine woman. We don’t see them speak spanish or take part in any specific cultural traditions, but that doesn’t make him white. Yes, his character was written for a white guy, but Tyler Posey is the one who got the part and we can’t strip him of his heritage just because the show originally meant for Scott to be white. My husband is almost always mistaken for white, even though he’s also half-latine, but that doesn’t make him any less latine. There’s little enough representation as it is, and if we start being picky about whether characters were ‘intended’ or ‘written’ as POC, everything will just fall to shit. Plus, as a white person, I have literally no rights to decide that Scott’s white. I’m cool with that. Would prefer to just stay in my lane, if I’m honest. With Scott established as being a POC, it’s totally reasonable for other POC and fans of Scott to be worried that those of us who don’t like him have that opinion because of either passive or active racism. There are a lot of occasions where Protags of Color were either liked less, or actively disliked for just being ‘not white.’ It also doesn’t help that Scott is one of very few “good” Characters of Color in TW (whether we agree or not, he is presented as a ‘good guy’). We have Boyd, who dies in 3A and doesn’t get much character developement in the meantime, and Kira, who sticks around for a while, then has to leave because of ‘losing control’ which is apparently a very common stereotype for POC, especially within Fantasy or Supernatural settings. Other than them, the other POC are either bad guys or just morally dubious. I’m not sure where Deaton falls on the scale either. I understand it being frustrating to some people for us to take one of the few “good’ characters and see him/describe him as a villain. It’s important for white people, and honestly, anyone not latine (because even POC can be racist against people who aren’t their race) to be self-aware and analyze the various reasons why we dislike Scott and make sure that we aren’t accidentally being passively racist. Just because we’re sure we aren’t, doesn’t mean we shouldn’t double check. And if we find we are, then it’s up to us to correct that mindset and educate ourselves. There is no shame in learning that you have not great habits or mindsets and working to fix them. That’s how growth works. It’s equally important that when we’re writing fic, we watch how we portray him and the other POC in the show. I’m not saying we can’t write Scott bashing fic. Fuck knows that I’ve written plenty of Bad Friend Scott McCall fic, and I don’t intend to stop. But we still need to be self-critical and make sure that we’re not writing Scott (or the others, please assume from here on out I’m saying Scott and the others) into racist stereotypes. We shouldn’t reduce him to just a “Yes” man, or make him constantly submissive, or constantly vicious and angry and mean for no reason. It’s one thing to write him as doing something bad or cruel and making it realistic for the story. It’s quite another to have him just randomly pop in to say “fuck you” and hit someone (I’m not referencing something specific here, I’m just saying dumb stuff). Honestly, I don’t know enough about this and I’m not really entitled to go into too much more detail. Instead, I’d recommend that even if you don’t think you’re hating Scott for racist reasons, still read This Post about racism in fandom/fanfic. When I read it, it was both reassuring and intimidating. I have anxiety, so I’m usually worried about doing things for ‘the wrong reason’ even when that’s not actually my reason for doing the thing. Reading this gave me a clearer view of my own thoughts, and it honestly made me feel a little more comfortable with my own mentality because it gave me a structure to think about and consider when I’m worried that I’m doing something racist. It’s worth the read. I’d also like to reiterate the suggestion on that post, to check out the blog Writing with Color, which is a great resource for writing Characters of Color. It doesn’t have as many resources for fanfiction writing and the grey area involved in writing characters that your reader already knows, but their ask box is closed at the moment, so maybe when it opens again someone’ll send in an ask about it (If I actually remember to, I’ll do it myself, but that’s unlikely, so if one of you feels so inspired, please do so and help a fic writer out!)

Now. I cannot speak for every single fan of TW who is anti-Scott in some way. Obviously not. But, I can speak for myself and for the experiences I’ve had within the fandom. My issues with Scott are many and complex and a lot of it is intrinsically connected to issues with the writing of the show in general and with the creators and the calls they made. In all the conversations that I’ve had with other fans, I’ve never seen anyone list Scott’s race as a problem. I’ve never seen anyone talk about how they wished he were more submissive or more obedient. Maybe that he would listen to actual adults once in a while, but not that he be unreasonably obedient of white characters. I’m not all-knowing on the subject of racist stereotypes, but nearly every complaint I’ve seen was based on details from the show and specific moments and dialogue, not just a general disgust with his existence. Furthermore, for all the anger I see directed at those of us that prefer Stiles, Derek, or even Peter, I’ve also never talked to anyone who liked those characters who wasn’t willing to admit that there were plenty of points in canon where they fucked up or did something wrong. Again, I don’t know everyone in fandom, so maybe there are people who won’t admit those things, but they aren’t in the majority.

I personally hate the way I see Scott treat people in the show. I hate the really vicious things he says and does and the chronic lack of self-awareness or growth. Even worse, the way the show excuses his behavior, be it intentional or not, has soured a lot of other parts of the show. The clearly impulsive moments that could easily be excused by him being a really stressed out teenager make me a lot more frustrated than they would, had I not known that he would never get better. That he would never stop saying things like that. I can’t even make myself enjoy the genuinely sweet moments with him and Allison or him and his mom, etc. I might hate that he left Stiles’ messages unanswered and skipped an entire day of school during a crisis to hang out with Allison, but I would’ve liked to enjoy their banter, the soft moments between them that are actually really nice. I can’t though, because so many other things about his character have ruined that for me.

It isn’t okay to attack people for disliking a character and throw around such charged words like “racist” and “abuse-apologist” or anything else. First off, this is fiction, and we all need to keep that in mind. These are not real people we’re talking about. Secondly, calling someone racist because they disagree with you (unless they are actively saying/doing something actually racist) isn’t okay and it isn’t an adult way to deal with things. Someone not liking a character doesn’t automatically make them racist. Someone happening to prefer a white character over a Character of Color doesn’t automatically make them racist. Sure, they might have passively racist motivations that even they don’t realize. But it is not up to strangers to come yell and call names without proof. There are plenty of reasons that have nothing to do with race (Not saying “i don’t see race.” I’m saying “Not About Race”) that I like Stiles over Scott, ranging from the fact that he’s physically more my type, to sharing a neurological condition with him, to just preferring Dylan O’Brien as an actor because he makes me fucking cry every time he cries on screen. What’s important is that we self analyze and check ourselves and our opinions to make sure that we aren’t falling into the racist habit of disliking Characters of Color for no real reason. But that isn’t something that other people can do for us, and it’s not their place to tell us what we think. Calling a stranger racist for saying they hate Scott’s behavior in the show doesn’t do anything for racial equality. It just makes people stop listening to the word ‘racist.’

There are times I seriously get frustrated with TW to the point of considering not watching anymore. Of closing my blog and stopping reading fanfic entirely because every single time I read a fic where Scott’s a ‘good guy’ or a ‘good alpha’ or where Derek is glad to be a beta again because he likes following Alpha Scott, I get squicked so badly I have to click out and just sit there for a second to settle. I can’t disentangle the things he does/says in the show from the fic.And I’ve written Good Friend Scott McCall fics. I have multiple wips where he’s either a decent person or he grows from being a dick to being a decent person. With my own work, I know that there’s an awareness to his behavior in the show and an active intent to rewrite/fix his behavior so that he is a nice person. With other people’s works, I don’t have a guarantee (unless it’s mentioned in tags or author’s notes, and I don’t expect people to have to explain themselves that way), and it personally makes me uncomfortable to read something when I don’t know if the writer actually sees Scott that way. It’s a personal preference, and one that I stick to pretty strictly.

Scott brings me no joy, and with him as the main character, I’ve come perilously close to cutting myself off from the most welcoming, loving fandom I’ve ever been a part of (except the Merlin fandom, but I don’t blame anyone who can’t compete with them. They’re fucking magical.). But I’m still here. I still love, if not the reality of the show, then all the potential I see in it when I watch. I love watching Derek and Stiles interact with each other and with the other side characters. I love seeing the glimpses of Boyd that we get, the tiny scenes of Erica, the snarky moments with Isaac. I even like Kira, though I haven’t seen a whole lot of the show where she’s in it/genuinely can’t remember it (I can’t even remember how far I’ve seen total, but I don’t think it was past S4, and I haven’t seen past S2 in months and months) and she spends most of her scenes with Scott, which just....kind of ruins the scenes for me.

That’s the glory of fandom though, of media in general. I don’t have to like Scott. I can love Derek and Stiles instead and I can choose not to read fics where Scott is a major player or an Alpha at all. I can read fics where Kira’s part of the pack without Scott ever getting involved, and see her interact with everyone else. Or fics where Boyd never dies and watch him bake or read or play lacrosse with the pack. I can curate my own experience, whether that means blocking tags or users or filtering fics, or just straight up skipping certain scenes/episodes of the show itself. I cope with my frustrations by coming on this blog and ranting about it. Yeah, this is a public space, but it’s also a space people choose to view. If they don’t like my opinions, they can block me or unfollow me or all of the above. They don’t have to read it, just like I don’t have to read any of their pro-scott stuff. I also read fic that does explore how Scott’s behavior is problematic and cruel sometimes. Fic that either erases him or turns him into the villain, I find fun and interesting and the relationship between him and Stiles cracking into pieces is something I find extremely cathartic, so I read it pretty much every chance I get (though, i’m so picky about fics I read, you’ve no idea). I also write fic. I write the most mushy, self-indulgent sterek fic and Stiles-centric fic and and Scott bashing fic that I can possibly write. It’s a joy and a therapy all its own. Fuck, I’m rewriting the entirety of canon for fuck’s sake and I’ve made so many changes that at this point I honestly have issues remembering what happens in the show, bc I rewrote the damn thing.

At the same time, Scott fans are gonna write their power fantasies. They’re gonna write anti-Stiles stuff and anti-Derek stuff, and whatever else tickles their fancy. They’re gonna make their own rant posts and gifsets. And to be quite honest, I don’t give a single flying fuck. I already have those tags filtered out on Ao3. I don’t follow any pro-scott tumblrs. That shit doesn’t show up for me most of the time, unless it’s not tagged properly, and even then I just click out, take a second, and move on.

No one is required to like or dislike specific characters, and it’s unfair of anyone to tell us otherwise. Fandom is built on choice. The choice to disagree with canon, or to re-envision it altogether, or to love it entirely. No one can take that away from you. So long as you aren’t hurting anybody, just keep doing you, friend. I’m here for you to vent to when it gets to be too much.

#personal #go for it #anti-scott mccall #meta ramblings #Anonymous #rant #much love #I didn't mean to sound so preachy #oops

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