#feat. idiots acting against their best interest | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

piecksz · 4 years ago

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forget me too. | (m)

pairing: modern punk!bakugo x fem!reader

warnings: nsfw, angst, cheating, oral sex, penetrative sex, angry sex, choking, fingering, exes with benefits, mentions of breeding, hair pulling, explicit language, toxic relationship, manipulation, reader just being a lovesick puppy but wouldn’t we all be if it came to bakugo

summary: it’s been a year since you broke up with bakugo after you found him cheating on you, and you swore you’d moved on from him, but when you run into him again at a record shop, you fall back into a dangerous cycle of love and hate

words: 9,800+

a/n: so i gave in and watched downfalls high, and i’m not gonna lie, it wasn’t the best piece of media i’ve ever consumed, but mgk’s feature track with halsey kind of ate (AND IT LITERALLY INSPIRED SO MANY ANGSTY IDEAS I WAS ITCHINGGG). therefore, this is said angsty idea. you can listen to the song forget me too by machine gun kelly (feat. halsey) while reading, that’s if you’re really daring. good luck lol

If there was one thing in the world you couldn’t fully understand, it was the type of girls who hated their ex-boyfriends, twirling their hair flirtatiously and giggling at all their pitiful punchlines one week, and the next, hatching bogus rumors to discourage other girls from seeking them out romantically, letting them know that their charm came at a price.

Until it was Bakugo.

You genuinely didn’t see it coming. You weren’t even able to recognize the severity of the situation until you were convulsing with the gravity of your sobs, shrieking at him in front of his apartment. Bakugo had called you earlier that evening to reschedule your previously-arranged dinner date since his friend Kirishima was in town, and he wanted to dedicate the rest of the night to catching up with his old schoolmate. You happily forfeited your own plans and instead opted to rendezvous with your boyfriend and his familiar later in the week, but as the night hauled on your favorite TV show no longer satiated your boredom.

Shuffling into the kitchen and scouring your cabinet for ingredients, you drew up the idea to bake some sweets for Bakugo and Kirishima because you figured it would be a nice surprise, however once you arrived at Bakugo’s place you deduced quickly that his friend wasn’t over. It should have been notably clear that something was unusual by the way he was hesitant to let you in.

He poked his head out from behind the privacy of his front door, definitely surprised to see you, but not in the way you had hoped.

“Y/N,” he greeted you with a tight-lipped expression, eyes dropping to the tub of sugar cookies in your hands. “What are you doing here? Why didn’t you call me to let me know you were coming over?”

You hummed after detecting a subtle edge in his voice. “I wanted to surprise you.” You rose to your toes to look past his head. “I thought you said your friend was coming over.”

Bakugo nodded, and once he extended his hand to accept your treats you could see that his torso was bare. “Idiot had to cancel at the last minute. School shit. He said he’ll be here tomorrow.”

Your grip tightened on the container.

If his friend couldn’t make it then why didn’t he let you know? The two of you still could have made it to your dinner reservations.

And in that moment, you swore your internal monologue was loud enough to hear, because you immediately received your answer when you heard a soft, feminine voice come from inside his apartment.

“Who the fuck is that?” you barked, trying to outbalance Bakugo’s weight on the door. “Bakugo you little fucking shit--let me in.” It was a moment-long game between the two of you until Bakugo gave in, accepting the reality that he’d already been caught. You stumbled into the door as it swung open, revealing his company.

She was petite with short blonde hair, wearing a panicked expression that matched Bakugo’s oversized flannel on her naked body almost impeccably. You stared at each other until you broke the tense silence with a quiet holy shit.

“Holy shit,” you repeated louder, blinking as fast as you could to hold back the salty tears that were beginning to cloud your vision. “You fucking dick!” You didn’t notice how forceful your voice had gotten until you were shouting at him, the immense pressure building in your chest making your voice crack. You hurled every vulgar name in the book at Bakugo who couldn’t even look you in the eye while you cried in front of him.

This couldn’t have been the same man you once saw your future playing out with. The hell unfolding in front of you was exactly what your friends, Momo and Ochako, had predicted once you disclosed your interest in Bakugo. They warned you that he had a record on campus, with multiple girls, and yet somehow when he wooed you with sweet words and thoughtful gifts, just like they said he would, you still thought you were different. The worst part of it all was that he wasn’t a terrible guy by any means. He was a little rough around the edges with a temper, but he was hilarious and passionate, all while being profound and smart.

In your fantasies the two of you were married, and then came babies with tufts of your tresses and the mischief of his ruby eyes. He would have been a winner, if he wasn’t so emotionally incompetent. Perhaps you were naive to assume what you and Bakugo had was love just because he said so.

Your quivering fingers worked unsteadily against the lid of the tupperware. You tossed it aside before dumping the container’s contents on the floor of his apartment and hurled the empty food saver at him.

“Come fucking on Y/N,” he said wearily. The fucking nerve he had to act tired.

“Enjoy your cookies,” you responded venomously, leaving quickly before another set of tears came surging.

The next several months were excruciating, and the pain you experienced was nothing compared to its onset. If you weren’t spending days cocooned in bed to sleep off the fatigue of your endless crying, then you were on your couch, staring unamused while Blair Waldorf waltzed across your TV screen.

At least she got her happy fucking ending. Good for her.

You couldn’t even find the energy to eat, and ice cream was not the cure-all for heartbreaks like everyone lied and said it was.

Every so often Momo and Ochako would pay you a visit. For the first few weeks they let you mourn, consoling you and cleaning up the litter of crumpled tissues around your apartment. After the first month, they suggested that maybe meeting someone new would be the best way to help you forget about your break up, but you didn’t want to meet someone new. You just wanted to know if Bakugo missed you too.

Once your grades started slipping, you used that as an excuse to turn to isolation and lose yourself in your schoolwork. The distraction left you with no leisure time to scroll through old photos of you and Bakugo in your phone, and within a couple months, you swore that you’d finally moved on from him.

But it seemed all of that was forgotten the moment you recognized his head of spiky blonde hair from the next aisle over in the record shop, and you silently cursed the universe’s cruel way of working, that all-knowing bitch.

You kept your head down, pretending to be overtly interested in the Kendrick Lamar vinyl you held in your hands, but you couldn’t stop peeking over the shelf to see if Bakugo had moved from his spot.

You could hear him shuffling, and every time you looked up, he was a step closer to the end of the aisle, meaning that your game plan was to move in the opposite direction, so you could slip past him without being detected.

You continued to move one step to the left every time Bakugo moved another step to the right, surely securing your elusive escape, but when you glanced up again, he had disappeared from your line of surveillance. Shit.

“Y/N?”

Shit!

Slowly, you pivoted in the direction of your name only to gawk, horrified, as your ex-boyfriend strolled up to you casually, like he had never ripped your heart out and trampled all over it.

Once he got closer, you realized how generous the year between your break up and now had been to him. His yellow flannel was useless tied around his waist when it should have been on his shoulders instead, covering the way his black Led Zeppelin shirt clung to the impressive build of his upper body.

“Holy fuck, it is you,” Bakugo said, incredulously. You swore he had grown taller now that he was standing in front of you because you couldn’t remember if he had always towered over you.

“Small world,” you said, distastefully.

“Not really,” Bakugo shrugged. “This is just where I come to slave away for minimum wage.”

You simply blinked at him with a placid expression, unable to decide which of your emotions was best considering the circumstances.

“I almost didn’t recognize you,” he chuckled. “Did you cut your hair?”

You raised an eyebrow plainly. “No.” If anything your hair had grown a few inches longer.

“Highlights?”

“No.”

“Shit seriously?” Bakugo cast his eyes downwards and then back up, sizing up your figure. “Well you look good.”

You could only offer up a dry laugh in response while shaking your head at the peculiarity of the situation.

“What is wrong with you?” you jeered.

You couldn’t believe the ease with which he approached you after not seeing you for twelve whole months, especially when six and a half of those months were spent bawling your eyes out over him and trying to repair the heart he broke carelessly.

Bakugo’s blithe expression withered. The look left behind was one of bashful remorse, as if he was embarrassed by the person he was a year ago.

You weren’t even sure if he had really changed since you’d gone out of your way to avoid hearing or seeing anything about him after you claimed to have gotten over him. The real reason was that you felt you couldn’t trust yourself. You feared that if you came across anything having to do with him, you’d descend into another self-destructive, heartache-driven spiral.

“I tried calling to apologize, but you blocked my number. And then blocked me on everything else,” Bakugo explained.

You shifted uncomfortably.

“I never saw you around campus, and when I showed up to your apartment you weren’t home. I felt like horse shit, seriously, but after a while I just gave up, I guess.”

You pursed your lips together at the mention of his attempts to remedy your breakup, specifically because this whole time you could have sworn he didn’t care to fix things with you.

Bakugo leaned in, and you surprised yourself by making no effort to create more distance between the both of you.

“I’m really fucking sorry, Y/N,” he said softly, for once without the gruffness of his usual tone.

If he made the effort to apologize even after a year, that must have meant that he still had some feelings left over for you, right? Did that mean he still loved you? The suspicion made your heart squeeze with expectation.

“Are you sorry that you hurt me, or are you sorry that you got caught?” You questioned.

“Both,” Bakugo snickered tactlessly.

You swore you could have punched his lights out then and there, but he must have noticed the way you tensed up because he looped his arm around you, pulling you in until you nestled into his larger frame.

“I fucking missed you, dumbass.”

Your stomach dropped at the very mention of the words you were longing to hear after your split, and you knew that you weren’t over him. Not even close. Even when you had caught another girl with her hands on him.

Your first mistake was unblocking Bakugo’s number that night, and your second was sending him a text. You stood in the bathroom, dumbfounded by your own actions while you clutched your phone nervously. Thank god he didn’t have his read receipts on. The last thing you needed to know was if he decided to leave you on read after you had just stroked his monumental ego.

You sat your phone aside and proceeded brushing your teeth until you were interrupted by a shrill ding from beside you. You grabbed your phone much too quickly and slid the screen up to be met with a reply from Bakugo.

9:32 PM

bakugo: so i’m still in your phone huh?

9:32 PM:

bakugo: lmao

9:33 PM:

bakugo: thinking about me even after bitching about how much you hate me?

9:34 PM:

bakugo: especially at night that’s hot

You scowled at the messages before putting your phone back down. Using the time it took you to finish brushing your teeth and washing your face, you recited your responses over and over again because as much as you wanted to, you knew it wouldn’t be smart to jump back into your relationship that fast. You still held negative sentiments about what he had done to you, but the pleasure of having him back was slowly beginning to outweigh your earlier feelings.

While shuffling into your bedroom, you kept your eyes glued to your phone screen, typing, deleting, and retyping messages, worried that they would sound too needy.

9:50 PM:

you: so i see you still have a head so big that it could block out the sun

9:53 PM:

bakugo: fuck off you little shit

9:53 PM:

bakugo: no classes tmrw and i’m off work at 12

9:54 PM:

you: ok? do i look like your fucking secretary?

10:00 PM:

bakugo: no im just letting you know in case you’re planning on stalking me again :^(

10:01 PM

bakugo: obviously i wanna see you tomorrow dipshit

Warmth spread across your cheeks until it deepened into a dangerous heat, and the happy memories of you and Bakugo a year ago resurfaced as deja vu. Everything was scarily reminiscent of the way he asked you out the first time, back when your opinions about him were much more straightforward.

You rolled over to the other side of your bed and squealed, flustered by how to-the-point he was about his desire to reconcile things with you.

“Get it together, honestly,” you reprimanded yourself, jabbing a finger against your temple in an effort to drill the mantra into your head.

You responded back to accept Bakugo’s invitation, being mindful not to sound too excited, but you couldn’t deny that you slept better than usual that night.

The next day when you met up with Bakugo after his shift at the record shop ended, the two of you settled on getting coffee from one of the restaurants on campus. Well, you got a coffee, but Bakugo went for an iced tea instead because he insisted that coffee tasted like “dog shit”.

Regardless of your staggering difference of opinion in beverages, you guys hit it off again, laughing and joking around like there had never been a rift between you two in the first place. You were taken aback by how comfortable you still felt around him and how much he still seemed to adore you.

Two weeks after your reunion, you and Bakugo were already falling back into the routine of going on dates like you’d done before, snickering in the back of crowded movie theaters and demolishing each other in multiple rounds of mini golf. You even kept the photo booth picture that was printed for you at the aquarium in your wallet, just so you could peek at it every now and then.

Three weeks after your reunion, you concluded that you were pretty much together. Bakugo had never made it official, and neither had you, but you trusted the way you felt, and it seemed clear that he felt the same way.

Your friends however, weren’t as happy to hear the news of you and Bakugo seeing each other again.

Momo’s eyes widened as she leaned over the table and thrusted her mechanical pencil in your direction.

“Y/N, please tell me you’re joking.” She turned to Ochako who looked at you with a troubled expression. “Uraraka, please tell me she’s joking.”

Ochako pressed her lips into a thin line, shaking her head in utter disbelief. She said nothing. Rather she looked to you for an answer, wanting you to explain the situation before she scolded you for being so forgiving toward someone who didn’t deserve it.

“He apologized okay? And it really seemed like he meant it, I’m not just saying that. You guys know I can’t hold grudges. I’m soft.”

Momo huffed.

“We started talking, and he told me that he tried to apologize but he never got the chance.”

Your friends were still quiet, waiting for the punchline, but once they realized that there was no hidden gag to the story, they leaned back in exhaustion, disappointed that you’d gotten yourself into another wearisome situation because of your thoughtlessness.

“And he said he missed me. After an entire year, he still misses me.”

“This wouldn’t have happened if we had found you someone else, you know. Someone nice. Better than Bakugo, so you don’t feel like you have to settle,” Momo countered.

“I didn’t need to date someone else,” you chided her. “I’m not one of those people that need to be in a relationship to feel fulfilled, plus I’ve been swamped with assignments.” You knew you were just trying to save face. You knew the real reason why you turned down all your prospective blind dates, and your friends knew it too. You couldn’t see yourself with anyone other than Bakugo, and you meant it when you said you didn’t need love to feel like you had purpose, but when it came to the blonde, it appeared that none of those principles applied.

“You’re lying,” Ochako sighed, tucking her hair behind her ear before clicking her pen and returning to her research paper.

“I’m not settling!” you declared, earning a few scattered glances from the other students in the library. You smiled at them ruefully, mouthing an apology, and ducked your head back into your college textbook.

You decided to drop the conversation, concluding that your friends just wouldn’t understand. They didn’t know your relationship with Bakugo like you did so how could they have understood?

Later that night however, you couldn’t help but chew over your friends’ reactions. There was clearly a reason why they felt the way they did, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to see their concern. You didn’t need to be chastised every time you did something they didn’t agree with, because you reminded yourself you were a grown ass woman. You treasured Momo and Ochako, but you were absolutely capable of looking out of yourself.

“Why do girls watch this shit?” Bakugo muttered from beside you, uninterested in the movie playing on the Macbook propped up in your lap. “It’s just dresses and sideburns, where the fuck are the fist fights?”

“It’s Pride and Prejudice, stupid. Not Deadpool,” you retorted, giggling slightly once Bakugo decided the skin of your neck was more interesting than Kiera Knightley. He released a throaty chuckle while attaching his lips to the base of your jaw and continued kissing until he stopped where your neck met your shoulders.

“Stop, I’m trying to watch the movie,” you complained tenderly with absolutely no intent to make Bakugo stop.

Bakugo sat up, grabbing your laptop off the sheets and closing it briskly. “Fuck the movie, I have a better idea,” he suggested. Your eyebrows furrowed, watching as he tossed the device onto the chair beside your closet.

“Hey, what are you doing, you dick?” you protested.

Within seconds Bakugo was on top of you with arms on either side of your head, effectively caging you in beneath him.

“Yeah?” he whispered provocatively, like he was making sure he had your permission first. He spoke under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear.

You didn’t know what sensation you registered first: the warmth now spreading quickly across your cheeks, down to your chest, or the pronounced throbbing between your thighs.

You nodded, softly responding with a “yeah” in return, and Bakugo didn’t waste a second before pressing his mouth to yours enthusiastically. You were surprised how quickly you re-familiarized yourself with the curve of his lips and the way they moved steadily against yours. Acting with fervor, he used his hand to grip your chin, forcing your mouth to open wider so he could slip his tongue past your teeth.

Bakugo used his free hand to grab your breast under your sweatshirt, and you relished in the feeling of his warm palm against your skin while he ran his fingertips against the silky fabric of your lace bra.

“Lace? You dirty bitch,” he teased, breaking contact. “There’s no way you could have known we were gonna fuck.”

You laughed, appreciating how seductive Bakugo looked. His sandy hair was tousled from your impatient hands in his locks, skin feverishly tinged with a dusty pink hue, and lips swollen from the force of his kiss.

“I didn’t know, but I was hoping we would,” you answered honestly. “I guess I got lucky.”

Bakugo snickered, clearly pleased with the response he received. His scarlet eyes flickered lustfully, and he hastily returned to working on your body. He pulled your sweatshirt up and off, tossing it over his shoulder before working swiftly against the clasp of your bra, which he skillfully managed to break with just one hand.

Must have had a lot of practice with that.

But your cynical thoughts were soon forgotten the moment Bakugo’s tongue curled around your nipple, enjoying the way his saliva made your skin glisten under the dim lamp light. He hummed loudly every time you jolted and whimpered, your back arching in tandem. He closed his lips around the delicate nub, sucking harshly while making no attempts to hide his sly smile. He was enjoying himself far too much.

He made sure he put his other hand to work, rolling your other nipple between his fingers, pinching roughly while tugging on it absentmindedly. Once he grew bored of your innocent mewls, he thirsted for something filthier.

Bakugo tantalizingly slid his hand down your stomach until his fingers curled around the waistband of your volleyball shorts. He stretched the Spandex material until when he released it, it snapped painfully against your skin, his cock throbbing at the exposure of your earthy groan.

He slipped off your shorts, and the sight before him was enough to elicit a long, drawn-out “Jesus fucking Christ”.

You didn’t realize you were so aroused that your underwear was soaking wet, your pussy now visible through the thin sheer fabric. Bakugo swallowed hard, palming himself to relieve some of the unbearable pressure he was feeling. He could feel his cock straining against his underwear, and he wanted to stick his dick inside you and fuck you until your eyes rolled back into your head, but the only thing he wanted more than that was to taste you.

“These are mine,” Bakugo insisted. He pulled your panties off, chuckling dryly at the wet stain on the fabric before tucking them into his pocket.

You tilted your head at him.

“What? I’m keeping them as a souvenir,” he replied.

But that’s not what you were concerned with. You were more humiliated than anything that this was your first time having sex with him in a year, and you’d been horny for him since you opened the door. You might as well have just written Bakugo’s Whore on your head in thick permanent marker, but you kept your suggestion to yourself knowing that Bakugo would have liked the idea way too much.

Bakugo reached down to pull his shirt over his head and threw it aside, unveiling his impressive physique. After you guys had broken up, he began finding himself in the gym more frequently, placating his regret and anger through physical exertion, and although he used weightlifting to cope, it left him with an incredible build.

Sweet lord, you thought, please fucking break me.

Bakugo wrapped his arms around your thighs, pulling you forcibly toward him. You propped yourself up on your elbows to get a good look as his face disappeared between your legs. You couldn’t see much past his hair, but you felt a long wet lick up your folds, and your arms immediately gave out, causing you to fall back onto the bed while your hips bucked upward.

You let out an obscene cry, but that only encouraged Bakugo more. He parted your lips with his tongue, licking another stripe up to your clit before sucking it into his mouth, all while peering up at you to see the way you writhed under his touch. You gripped the sheets, and your breathing grew increasingly labored as Bakugo swirled the tip of his tongue against the tender bud, slowly in one direction, and then the opposite. You continued to grind yourself against his mouth while your desire became insatiable. You felt like your hunger was completely justified, because you hadn’t been spoiled in a long fucking time.

You completely unraveled once you glanced down just in time to see Bakugo spit on your parted folds before using his fingers to coat your pussy in his saliva. His slick fingers rubbed your clit, taunting you for just a while longer, and then he dipped his fingers inside of you. He started with two fingers, slipping them in and out with ease until his spit mixed with your arousal created a vile lubricant.

With the way Bakugo’s lips were slightly parted and his eyebrows were knitted in the center, you could tell he was concentrating dangerously, observing how desperately you swallowed his fingers every time he pushed them in.

Your vision erupted into white heat when he bent down to take your clit back into his mouth while pumping in and out of you with an added finger. The symphony that filled the space of your room was absolutely foul. Your intense cries bounced off the walls, while Bakugo panted heavily at the messy sound of his fingers thrusting in and out of you. And neither of you cared if your neighbors could hear.

“Bakugo--,” you started, but your broken plea wasn’t nearly enough to get his attention.

“Bakugo,” you cried louder, your body beginning to shake with the onset of your orgasm.

“Are you gonna cum?” He asked, his voice slightly higher than you were used to, almost like he was whining.

You could only give a weak nod in response.

“Be a good little bitch and cum for me,” Bakugo coaxed, as you yielded to the intensity of your orgasm. He quickened his pace just to see you convulse as you reached your high, but then slowed down until he was ready to pull his fingers out of you.

The sight was enough to make Bakugo cum untouched. You were finger-fucked out, eyes shut as your chest heaved up and down while you tried to catch your breath. Your arousal was smeared on the inside of your thighs and your bedsheet was damp where you released.

Bakugo wanted to ask you if you were alright, but the aching pain in his pants took priority. He reached into his underwear, freeing his swollen cock from the confines of his boxers. He bit down on his bottom lip so hard he almost drew blood as he pumped himself gingerly, hissing at the feeling. His tip was raw and flushed, leaking precum in shameless amounts.

He hoisted your legs on either shoulder and positioned himself at your entrance, looking at you for confirmation, and you nodded feebly. He sunk his entire length into you, and you covered your mouth with your hand to stifle a shrill scream. Your walls were already sore, and the sting of Bakugo’s large cock inside of you was a painful bliss. Tears came quickly, and they rolled down your cheeks while Bakugo rocked his hips into you slowly. He was waiting for his aching to subside before speeding up his rhythm, and once it did he was taken over by an unappeasable greed.

“You’re so fucking tight,” he groaned, thrusting himself in and out of you. “If you keep squeezing me like that I’m gonna cum inside you and get you fucking pregnant.” Bakugo had one hand on your headboard, his grip so firm that his knuckles had turned white.

You sobbed underneath him, withstanding your own pain until it subdued into pleasure. You shifted your legs until they wrapped around Bakugo’s strong torso, unable to get enough of him.

Bakugo rammed into you, and your headboard hitting your wall furiously set the tempo until he fell into a staggered cadence.

“I’m gonna cum,” he choked out. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck--.” Your name was the last thing Bakugo could get out before he broke free of your hold, pulling himself out of you so he could release. He cummed on your stomach, generously shooting out hot spurts of white until he was soft and you were covered in his seed.

Bakugo leaned over and collapsed beside you, short of breath. He was drenched in sweat and his blonde hair stuck to his forehead with perspiration. He chuckled after a few silent minutes.

“What the fuck was that? Were you trying to get me to nut in you?” Bakugo asked, turning to face you.

You didn’t know what he was talking about until you remembered the way you wrapped him up in your legs while he was inside you.

You snorted, erupting into a fit of sheepish laughter. “Yeah.”

Bakugo raised an eyebrow, bewildered. “Crazy bitch.”

He pulled his sweatpants up and rolled out of your bed. “I’m not ready to be a dad yet,” he voiced, before shuffling lazily out of the room to find something he could clean you up with and smoke a cigarette on the fire escape.

The next morning you found yourself alone, Bakugo nowhere to be found despite you falling asleep with his arms around your waist. You raised a sleepy eyebrow at the empty space next to you that was still sunken from his weight. Okay good, so you didn’t hallucinate last night. You figured Bakugo had early duties to attend to, so you simply grumbled before turning over to get more sleep.

Following that day, every time Bakugo came over to your place, or you found yourself at his, the routine was simple: have breathtaking sex and then pass out.

You grew used to expecting it from him whenever the two of you spent any time alone, and the night before always consumed your thoughts the morning after. You’d squeeze your thighs together during your lecture hall while your professor yammered on about early psychology. The memory of Bakugo’s hand around your throat as he fucked you from behind prompted a surge of heat to your core.

Even when the two of you couldn’t see each other because neither of your schedules coincided, you found a way to make things work, whether it was over the phone, through text, or over Facetime.

Occasionally, you’d ring up Bakugo while he was closing up the shop to taunt him, touching yourself on the other line while he’d grow painfully hard and couldn’t relieve himself until he got home.

“You little fucking shit.” You loved the way his low growls sounded over the phone. “Let’s see how bold you are when I come over and turn your thighs into earmuffs.”

And occasionally, he’d send you videos of himself in bed while you were at the library late cramming for your exams the next morning, touching his cock with haste before cumming on his hands as he groaned your name loudly.

Not an ounce of passion was lost between you two, and if anything you’d only grown closer together from the time spent apart. You had your love back, and everything in your life was ideal.

Of course, that was all before the party.

The party at Sero’s house that you’d caught wind of once you joined Momo, Ochako, and your other friend Mina for lunch.

“You know I don’t like going to parties thrown by frats,” Ochako muttered, ripping off small bites of her chicken wrap.

“Why not? There’ll be plenty of guys there for you to talk to, your phone has been a little dry lately,” Mina responded, laughing silently.

Ochako squinted at her jest before playfully rolling her eyes herself. “That’s exactly why. You know what happened last time I went to a frat party. The hangover isn’t worth it.”

Mina exhaled heavily and turned to you with a hopeful look.

“Y/N, you’ll go with us right? Me and Momo?”

You squeezed your water bottle wearily. “I don’t know. I’m not a fan of frat parties either.” You didn’t know what answer to give her, she looked extremely optimistic, and you hated to rain on Mina’s Friday night plans, but you didn’t want to spend the rest of the evening crammed in a frat house with a crowd of strangers.

Mina stuck out her bottom lip and reached to grab your hand from across the table. “Please? Please? There’s no guarantee Momo won’t ditch me at the party for Todoroki.”

Momo murmured inaudibly beside her.

You sighed, however you relented, giving into the arrangements Mina had made for you, but you regretted your decision far too late.

You showed up to the gathering with Mina and Momo dressed modestly. Unlike your friends and many of the other girls there, you already had someone that you were seeing, and you wanted to look as reserved as you could so there was no confusion around whether or not you were off the market.

Bakugo was possessive, and he preferred to keep his possessions close. There was no telling what he would do or how he’d react if he learned of another man trying to make a move on you.

You took small sips out of your cup while you followed quietly behind Momo and Mina as they moved from person to person, greeting friends you were unfamiliar with. You feigned a cheery smile when you were introduced to them, but overall you were bored with the party scene. You weren’t really a frat party girl.

You yelled over to Momo that you needed another drink and shook your head when she asked you if you needed her to come with you. She looked far too engrossed in her conversation with Todoroki, and you didn’t want to just whisk her away while they were talking. In fact, you were the chairman of the Anti-Cockblock Committee.

You sauntered into the kitchen, sliding in next to the counter once the guests who were there first left. You started grabbing bottles to inspect the labels because to be honest, you weren’t sure what half of these brands were. As a broke college student, you bought your own drinks, which were mainly $20 cases of hard lemonade and cheap raspberry Smirnoff vodka from the liquor store. Clearly Sero had selective taste in high quality shit.

You poured yourself a small sip of Patron, tasting the clear liquid, and tried not to gag at the oaky taste as it burned your throat going down.

You felt someone ease in beside you. “Hey, bartender.”

You glanced at the guest next to you, their familiar visage coming into view. You recognized his distinctive green head of hair and innocent freckles peppered across his cheeks, it was the same face you saw every day in your sociology class.

What was his name? Ku--something. Zu…?

You remembered your professor referred to him by his nickname, Deku, and once you said his name as convincingly as you could, you gathered by his boyish grin that you were right.

“I’m surprised you remembered,” he laughed, and adjusted his circle-rimmed glasses while his emerald eyes swelled into crescents.

“I didn’t really take you for a partier,” you observed. Deku was incredibly smart from what you’d seen in class. He knew the answers before your professor could even finish their questions, and when you’d ask him if he could repeat what the teacher said for your notes, he explained the material even better than the person who was an expert in the subject for a living.

“I’m not,” he replied. “But you know, the college experience and all that.”

You scoffed and nodded, knowingly. “Melt your brain studying for 25 hours a day, 8 days a week, and then get shitfaced whenever you can. Yeah, that’s definitely the college experience,” you joked, pouring yourself a couple shots of vodka and mixed it with orange soda.

“I was meaning to ask you,” Deku started. “I mean--Yeah--I was meaning to ask you for your number in class earlier this week.”

You stirred your drink with a finger before stealing a taste. “Of course,” you agreed happily.

Deku’s face deepened into a rosy bloom once he took out his phone, typing in your contact while you recited the numbers.

“I’m not asking for a weird reason or anything like that. Just so we can help each other out with homework and stuff.”

You nodded, already acknowledging that Deku was a sweet kid, at least as far as you knew. You didn’t expect him to have any promiscuous intentions.

“Yeah, but I don’t think I’ll be as much help to you as you’ll be to me,” you teased, and Deku chuckled nervously still trying to shake the blush off his cheeks. “I’m free on Monday, I can meet up with you after class if you want.”

Deku buried his face into his cup, his shallow breathing causing his glasses to fog up. “Yeah, that sounds great,” he mumbled bashfully.

“Text me the deets,” you grinned, before wandering off back to your friends.

On the way back to the stairwell where Momo and Mina were still standing, your attention was drawn by a large crowd around the living room that erupted into jovial squeals and cheers every few seconds. You gravitated toward the mass of guests, standing on your toes to get a better look, but when that didn’t work you gently made your way through the throng of people, issuing soft “sorry, excuse me’s” and “thank you’s” to the people that didn’t mind letting you slip past them.

You had no knowledge that he was going to be here. He never told you what his plans for the night were, but this was the last place you were expecting Bakugo to be.

Here.

Playing a game of “Kiss and Blow” on a crowded couch with someone who wasn’t you. When it reached his turn, you could see his shallow inhale and how he put in no effort to keep the card against his mouth. It fell between the cushions, and the crowd erupted into another rally.

Bakugo grinned artfully and hooked his arm around the eager brunette before smothering her giggles with a deep tongue-filled kiss.

At first, the cogs in your brain couldn’t turn fast enough to register what was happening, and your thought process stuttered for a moment while your eyes took in more than you expected. Your body remained immobile, giving your thoughts a few seconds to catch up. Maybe for those few seconds, your anguish was suspended, and your shock was simply a cushion until you fell apart.

You couldn’t make your way out of the party fast enough, and you didn’t even think to let Momo and Mina know that you were leaving. Everything around you sounded warbled, like you were underwater, as your leaden legs carried you out, past the front lawn, and across the street until you were far away that you could no longer hear the music of the party. It was then that you pulled out your phone to text Mina claiming that you didn’t feel well and called an Uber to take you home.

The following morning you ignored all of Bakugo’s texts. He sent one at 10 AM, asking you if you were down to get breakfast, and then another at noon suggesting lunch since you didn’t respond to his text about breakfast. He texted you again, and again, and again, and you continued to disregard him.

You didn’t cry this time around. No. You were filled with a foreign anger. It was strange and new, and it burned nothing like the rage you’d felt in all your years of living. You didn’t know whether you were angry at him for putting you through this again or if you were angry at yourself for really believing that he’d changed. You really wanted to confront Bakugo in person, but you were afraid of your unpredictability. You didn’t know what you would do if you saw him--roundhouse kick him in the throat most likely.

Bakugo’s relentless attempts to get in contact with you didn’t let up, even late into the night. He sent another text threatening to show up at your apartment if you didn’t answer him, and then he called yet again.

Angrily, you reached out to answer your phone, but once you held it to your ear all the fury you’d been bearing throughout the day emerged.

“Can you fuck off?” You hissed.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Bakugo responded, taken off guard by your greeting. “What the fuck?”

“If you were so hellbent on seeing me today, you should have thought about that before you decided to be a hypocritical little bastard! Again!” You shook with anger, unable to effectively piece together all the profane names you wanted to call him.

Bakugo was still while you put him on blast.

“Do you not have anything to say to me, you fuckwit?”

“No, because I don’t even know why you’re going full bitch right now!” Bakugo defended himself. You sat back at his reply, confused at why he was guarded. You knew that when Bakugo was aware he was in the wrong he always remained quiet and pensive.

“Last night?” you clarified. “Does last night not ring a bell to you?”

He let out a small grunt of recollection. “I was at a party last night, what are you talking about?”

“No shit, Bakugo! I saw you swallowing another girl whole!”

The other line erupted into laughter, and a large knot settled in your throat.

“Am I not allowed to kiss other girls now?” he asked.

Had he been hit by a semi-truck? Did he need a swift lobotomy?

“Why would you kiss another girl if you have a girlfriend?”

Bakugo muttered a quiet “what”, and then the lightbulb clicked.

“Holy shit, Y/N, did you think we were back together?”

Huh?

“When did we ever say that we were together?” he questioned lightly, finding your misunderstanding comical.

But--

“I thought we were just fucking around, you know? I never mentioned getting back together, and you didn’t either, so I just assumed we were just fucking.”

You didn’t say a word. As angry as you wanted to be and as angry as you already were, he was right. You had only assumed that you two were back together, but neither of you agreed on it explicitly.

“Our dates...” you countered listlessly.

“Two people hanging out together isn’t always a date.” Bakugo shifted on the other end and then grunted again to occupy the tense silence. “Shitting me, I didn’t know that’s what you were thinking.”

Realization of how foolish you made yourself look set in, and you hoped the awkwardness that hung in the air was fleeting. You swallow heavily, unable to digest defeat.

“Okay,” you murmured, before hanging up and flinging your phone aside.

You and Bakugo didn’t speak for the rest of the night into next morning, and by midday Monday when your study session with Deku rolled around, you were more than reluctant to go. You knew the frustration of someone cancelling last minute, but you were unsure whether you could bring a positive spirit to your meetup, and the last thing you wanted to do was put kind-hearted Deku through your bad mood.

As the time drew closer, you were considering texting him to rain check, letting him know you were feeling under the weather, when he sent you a picture at the coffee shop. Deku had ordered you lunch, mentioning that you must’ve been hungry after classes all day. He explained that he didn’t know what you liked so he just bought for you what he usually got for himself.

After that, you couldn’t have possibly turned him down, so you showed up anyway. Before you knew it, the clock already approached 9 PM, and the coffee shop was about to close for the night. Time had flown by while you were getting lost in upbeat conversation with Deku, and the two of you laughed and joked around more than you’d done your assignment, but you didn’t mind since it gave you another excuse to meet up with him. You didn’t expect him to be as naturally humorous as he was, nor did you guess you’d have as much in common with him as you did, but you’d forgotten about your own heartache during the time you spent in his company. Not to mention, he was very easy on the eyes, but that was just an additional plus.

However, when you finally returned home to your empty apartment that night, all your feelings came flooding back.

“Right,” you muttered to yourself, setting your backpack down by the door, and throwing your keys onto the kitchen counter. “Back to square one.”

Normally, you’d invite Bakugo over, but you had no desire to be anywhere within a three mile radius of him at the moment, so you quickly got ready for bed, figuring that the more time you spent asleep meant less time that you’d have to dwell over the all-too-familiar pain in your chest.

You continued to spend more and more time with Deku even though most of your plans were organized around schoolwork, even if it was studying for a test or just practicing terminology flashcards. Eventually, you’d gotten close enough that you didn’t mind inviting him over since your apartment was much quieter than the dorm he shared with his roommate, Kaminari.

You were both sat on your couch, and you took turns quizzing each other on general knowledge sociology questions. You flipped through the flashcards, Deku answering every question with impressive ease, until you had grown tired.

“Deku, this isn’t fun. You know every term,” you sighed, shuffling through the stack.

“Studying isn’t supposed to be fun, that’s why it’s called studying and not having fun,” he joked lamely, extending his hands to take his flashcards back.

You giggled silently at his flat humor and leaned back against the armrest to put your knees up. “Okay, well what do you like to do when you’re not studying?”

Deku slipped his flashcards into the pocket of his backpack. “Between classes, studying, and wrestling, I don’t really have much time for anything else.”

You gaped. “You wrestle? No fucking way.”

Deku raised an eyebrow at you, amused and unsure of the reason for your stupefaction. “Why do you think I’m a loser or something?”

“I don’t think you’re a loser,” you explained. “I just wouldn’t have guessed.” You took note of his lean stature. He did look like he worked out, but you never considered his pastime was something as brutish as wrestling. You figured his interests would explain the scars that decorated both of his hands.

“Okay then,” you began, hopping up and throwing the blanket you were wrapped in on the couch. “Teach me something.”

Deku stared at you, uncertain whether you were serious. “I don’t wanna hurt you,” he said, timidly.

“Oh man up, you baby,” you joked while wrapping your hands around his wrists, urging him to stand up. “Who’s to say I won’t hurt you?”

Deku chuckled nervously before following you over to the open space between your living room and kitchen. He stood for a second, thinking of the easiest moves to show you, and then he nodded, like he had fully decided.

“Okay, come here.”

You did as you were told, letting Deku guide you into the correct position. You cleared your throat, unnerved by the way his chest pressed up against your back, and his strong hands looped around your arms to lock them behind your head.

“This is a full nelson,” he instructed. “It’s a submission hold. It’s not allowed in our matches, but feel free to use it if you ever find some creep following you home.” You could feel his chest rumble with laughter between your shoulder blades.

You nodded, feeling flustered. “Mhm.”

The next demonstration had the two of you on the floor with your arm twisted at an uncomfortable angle while Deku’s arm was situated over your rib cage. You could feel his staggered breathing across the shell of your ear, and you looked over your shoulder expectantly, waiting for him to explain the move.

Deku must have realized how close your faces were to each other because he absolutely lost his cool. He began stammering, unable to get his words out. “And this one is called the--um...sorry it’s called the--,” he breathed. “I’m sorry, I’m--I just wanna kiss you so bad right now.” His body tensed with his confession, but you were the one who made the first move.

Once Deku’s hold loosened, you leaned into him, allowing your lips to collide with his. Your mouths moved against each other fervently, and the two of you rolled over until you were on top of him with your legs on either side of his waist. Ever since a few nights before you’d blown up on Bakugo, you hadn’t been touched. Not even by yourself. You tried, but your fingers came nothing close to competing with his. You were so incredibly needy that you had to forcefully stop yourself from gyrating your hips on Deku’s crotch. He was already red in the face, and you were afraid he might collapse if you worked your ass against the growing bulge in his jeans.

You broke your kiss to take Deku’s hands, and you rested them on your chest. With Bakugo, he would have immediately taken control, driving you into ecstasy, but with Deku it was different. It was as if he had never touched a pair of breasts before. His breathing grew even more shallow as his body became rigid.

You tilted your head, slightly irritated from the lack of action, but you were more concerned about Deku’s wellbeing.

“Are you okay?” you asked, tongue in cheek.

Deku nodded anxiously. “Yup, yup, yup, I’m great. I’m good.”

But something was off, and you knew you weren’t enjoying yourself like you typically would even with days of pent up libido. You closed your eyes tiredly and released an exasperated sigh, slowly pulling yourself off of him. “I’m sorry, I can’t do this right now--we shouldn’t--.”

Deku opened his mouth to contest, but you cut him off.

“It’s getting late, you should go. I’ll see you around.” You buried your face in your hands, embarrassed at your desperation. “I’m so sorry,” you apologized again.

Deku adjusted his glasses and murmured a small “It’s fine, Y/N.” He helped you up after he pulled himself off of the floor and gathered his belongings before heading out quickly, eager to flee the tension.

Fuck, you thought. How did things get so complicated? Deku was a sweet kid, genuinely pure at heart, and you knew he wanted you from the way his emerald eyes were glued to your frame, even while you were fully-clothed. Yet he wasn’t Bakugo. He didn’t know how to work you like Bakugo did, and you felt shamefaced for thinking about your ex-boyfriend again. You mulled it over and began to question why you were stopping yourself from having your cake and eating it too.

Bakugo didn’t intend on getting back together with you, but he enjoyed the phenomenal sex, and so did you. You held so much contempt for him now, but there was no reason why you couldn’t just agree to the terms of his compact.

Exes with benefits, only now with a few additions of your own.

No dates, no flirty chatter outside of your arrangements, nothing that could potentially steer you the wrong way towards forgiving him yet again, because like you told your friends: you were a pushover, and Bakugo was a sweet talker. That was a combination destined for hell.

Your revelation was exactly how you ended up sleeping with Bakugo again. Your sex life was practically a Dr. Seuss book. The two of you would have sex in his car, in the bathroom at a bar, and you’d have sex here, there, and pretty much anywhere.

When you first called him up, he answered almost immediately, somewhat excited to see your contact after going without speaking to each other for nearly a week. After you acceded, he snorted, wondering if you were conspiring.

“Are you fucking scheming something? Cooking up some devious shit to get me alone so you can kill me? Suffocate me while I’m sleeping? You’re goddamn insane.”

You rolled your eyes aggravated. “No. Are you down, or do you wanna pussy out now?”

Bakugo agreed, and both of you managed to keep things fairly cordial. Well, as cordial as they could possibly be, given your shared history. You couldn’t care less about the differences and arguments you had when you guys were in bed. If anything, you preferred it when Bakugo was angry at you, pissed at something you had said or just releasing pent up stress that built up over the week. That only made the sex filthier.

Although Bakugo wasn’t yours, and you weren’t his, that didn’t mean he didn’t hold some affection for you, and perhaps still even vice versa. He was possessive over you regardless, even if it meant coming dangerously close to breaching the contract. Especially when he caught you one night with Deku at an on-campus movie screening in the park.

After the fiasco at your apartment with you and Deku, you apologized sincerely to him a couple of days later in class. Deku took no hard feelings to your blunder, and he nodded at the mild rejection when you clarified that things would be best if the two of you stayed friends. He reassured you that he was fine, and he was far too occupied for a relationship of any sort anyway.

But Bakugo wasn’t aware that you two had already tested the waters and decided it was sink rather than swim.

When he spotted you alone sitting on a blanket, he strolled over, wearing a sardonic grin. He struck up a superficial conversation that quickly dissipated once Deku returned with the snacks you two planned on sharing.

Your grin when Deku arrived didn’t compare to the indifferent smile you gave Bakugo when he approached you, and he noticed. His eyes narrowed at your green-haired friend as burning rage coursed through his veins.

“Deku, this is Bakugo,” you said, uninterested in Bakugo’s presence while you took the bag of sour candy Deku offered to you.

Deku smiled at Bakugo, extending his hand to exchange a handshake, but Bakugo simply slapped his hand away dismissively.

“Whatever,” Bakugo jeered, his jaw rooted, before he diverted his attention back to you. “See you later, dumbass.”

He left without a fight, but you knew he wouldn’t put the memory past him, and the following night, all of Bakugo’s anger came bubbling out. The way his brain operated was fascinating, especially since he knew that you two had no romantic commitments to each other, that’s what you agreed on, but finally seeing you over him with someone who he assumed was your new interest turned him crazed.

Bakugo held a painful fistful of your hair, pushing your face into the mattress while he wrecked you. He forced himself into you from behind, muffling your screams with the pillow while he rammed into you relentlessly. Every thrust was vicious, exhibiting the full height of his temper.

“You’re mine, do you understand that? You’re mine to touch, mine to ruin. If anyone else puts their hands on you, I swear I’ll beat them within an inch of their life.”

Bakugo hated to admit it, especially since he knew admitting it turned him into the hypocritical dick of the year, but he enjoyed having you chase after him like a lovelorn puppy. You clung to his side, and you were there at his beck and call. He’d always hated being emotionally tied down, hence his apprehension toward serious relationships, but the way you took advantage of the freedom to see other men made him livid.

“Maybe if I really did put a baby in you other people wouldn’t be such a fucking pain. What do you think?”

Bakugo’s pace didn’t let up as his grip on your hair tightened, and he pulled you upright until your head rested back on his shoulder.

“Answer me,” he demanded, dangerously.

All you could muster were broken sobs. You had never seen Bakugo like this, and you were willing to avow that after discounting your fear and pain, it was hot, and you were slightly intrigued.

Bakugo secured his hand around your neck, allowing his fingers to dig into the side of your throat, and you could feel his cock throbbing inside you which let you know he was close, but he wasn’t making any efforts to slow down any time soon.

“The thought of you with him makes me want to fucking vomit. You know he’ll never be able to make you feel like I do,” he snarled against your ear. “No one will.”

You choked out a meager “I know” while your vision grew blurrier from the lack of oxygen to your head.

You came first and then Bakugo came shortly after, claiming you by pumping you full with his hot seed until you collapsed on the bed from overexhaustion.

You realized then, through the cloudiness of your thoughts came a single conviction: that your relationship with Bakugo was an endless cycle. You’d taken every romantic risk for Bakugo while he risked nothing. That’s how you remained foolish for so long, so naive. You refused to learn over and over again, and you sacrificed yourself in the process.

Once Bakugo threw you modest praise and disappeared into the bathroom, you gave way to the enormity of your despair. Your tears were silent and persistent until your breathing turned ragged while humiliation and resentment burned just beneath your skin.

You were smitten with someone who was bad at romance. Your love was a fairytale, but not everyone believed in fairytales, meaning that was both the birth and death of your chronicle. Fairytales were only real if you believed they were.

Bakugo continued to give you reasons to leave and seek out the love you deserved, but you took momentary bliss as your excuse for staying, like a lovesick fool or like an addict dying from overdose. You wish he would at least give you something to hold onto, like false hope or a pretty lie, but you knew that’s all you’d ever be able to do: wish that things were different so you two could have grown into something beautiful.

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stealforreal · 4 years ago

Text

Midoriya Izuku - Future kids I

Midoriya Izuku's day just got turned upside down. MIdoriya is slightly ooc, and I'm dissapointed with the quality of this work. I lost inspiration sorry, but here you go anyways.

Midoriya Izuku x f!reader

Warnings: none, maybe slight cussing

It had been a normal day, so far. Class 1-b and 1-a had a joint training session, and everyone was giving it their all. Iida was using his recipico burst against their team's opponents, giving Midoriya time to think up a new plan now that they had been discovered. They had previously planned to use Aoyama's navel laser to lure their opponents to a specific spot, before using Iida to get him away so Midoriya and Todoroki could apprehend them. The plan had unfortunately backfired, since they had captured Aoyama before Iida could get to him. The solid air user from 1-b had gotten him in his hold, and only after Todoroki had gotten him back did they realise how much the rest of the plan would fail. So now Midoriya was tasked with coming up with a new plan.

Todoroki was occupied with holding the others at bay, and Iida was running out of fuel so they wouldn’t be much help. Aoyama was on the brink of his usual stomach ache that followed with overuse, so he was also pretty useless. Even if he wanted too Midoriya knew he was out matched, a 4 v 1 would not end well for him, besides he had to look out for Monoma and his copy quirk. He was so in his head planning that he didn’t see the Copycat sneaking up on him, not before it was too late. He should have felt an impact, Monoma had pointed one of Bakugou’s explosions towards him. But the impact never came, instead he felt himself float in the air hovering over the remaining smoke from the explosion. “Don’t you dare hurt my daddy” A loud girly voice proclaimed, effectively gaining everybody nearby attention.

Turning his attention towards the girly voice, he felt himself freeze up. In the middle of their training field stood a girl around the age of 10, if he had to take a guess. But that wasn’t what caused him to freeze up, no not the fact that this young girl had somehow managed to bypass UA’s security. Which should have been impossible, considering all the improvements that had been made to it after all the villain attacks that had happened. No, what caused him to freeze up was the fact that before him stood this girl, who looked like a carbon copy of him. It seemed that way from this distance. “Who is responsible for holding Midoriya in the air?” Aizawa’s gruff voice rang out. “Oh right, I forgot about that,” The curly green haired girl exclaimed, catching the attention of the slowly increasing crowd. Slowly Midoriya could feel himself being lowered to the ground again, once his feet hit the cement the quirk that had previously held him in the air deactivated making him feel 10 times heavier.

“Who the fuck disturbed the exercise, I’m gonna kill who ever did it” a familiar angry voice yelled out, making Bakugou’s presence noticeable. Everybody was a little on edge, they had enough experience with villains to not foolishly blindly trust anybody. It didn’t matter that it was a 10 year-old girl, or that she looked like a carbon copy of the resident green haired cinnamon roll. “Man, Uncle Katsu you really were loud back in the day” This statement from the green haired girl left everyone speechless. ‘Does she have a death wish’ was the thought on most of 1-A’s minds, nobody was so casual with Bakugou because it was a serious health hazard.

Well everyone except maybe his two best friends, Kirishima and y/n. It was common knowledge in class A that Bakugou had a soft spot for his two best friends, they had honestly been shocked the first time they met her. She had walked into the classroom, blank faced, walked over to Bakugou’s table, smacked him upside the head with a book before leaving it on his desk, and walked out the door with only a quick “don’t forget it next time, Idiot”. Miraculously she had lived, and Bakugou hadn’t even begun yelling. An impressive feat in itself. Not long after Midoriya had begun noticing you around school, and found out you were a part of the support course. He came to know you a bit, his observation skills made that almost too easy. Slowly but surely he began falling in love with you, the way your hair frames your face, your sharp tongue that never held back. How you would stand up for anybody, it didn’t matter if you knew them well or not if they were in trouble you would help them.

“Hah, what was that you brat?” Bakugou’s loud yelling and heavy footsteps approaching snapped him out of his thoughts, and back to the situation at hand. “ W-wait a minute Kacchan, I’m s-sure that there is a logical explanation” He found himself saying before he could even register what happened. Midoriya was hit with an immense feeling of protectiveness, similar to when they had rescued Eri, but stronger. Without knowing he had subconsciously stepped in front of the girl, pushing her behind his back. “Don’t worry dad I can handle myself, besides it’s only uncle Katsu” she spoke up behind the protective cinnamon roll. “Explain now” Aizawa cut in before they could get side tracked again. It was like the fact she hadn’t introduced herself, only hit her now.

“ Right, allow me to introduce myself” Bowing slightly she continued. “ My name is Midoriya Izumi, I am 10 years old and from the future” Aizawa sent her a raised eyebrow, wanting an elaborated answer. “ My friend was being teased by the others in class about how he was quirkless” Izuku tensed slightly but continued listening to Izumi “ Since my friend’s parents each has a quirk related to time, his mom could speed up herself for only a couple of minutes and his dad could slow down others a bit. This made it really hard for my friend to know if he had a quirk or not, so I helped him research and test different theories. Our last one must have worked, which is time travel by the way, but I have no idea how long his quirk will last” Izumi rambled slightly, reminding them of another curly green haired individual. Difference is Izumi talked loud enough for them to hear, and a bit slower making it understandable.

“Wait, you said your name was Midoriya Izumi. Does this mean that you are Midoriya’s daughter” The ever stoic, conspiracy theory thinking, dual haired boy pointed out. “ Yep, sure am uncle Sho, Don’t tell me you don’t see the resemblance.” She stood next to Izuku hugging his waist with one arm, before continuing” I’m dad's younger copy but female, mom always says there is more wholesomeness in him than there is in her. I remember her asking dad one time why his genes were so damn strong. Luckily for her Haru looks a lot more like her, he’s her younger copy but male” The people present looked between the two Midoriyas, it was true nobody could deny that she was her fathers daughter. The only thing that was different was her eyes, they had specks of y/e/c instead of being fully emerald like Izuku’s were. Also she talks a lot, just like their classmate. They shared the same green hair, both were curly in texture and the classic Midoriya freckles. Though it seemed that she had gotten more of her mothers personality, at least they assumed so. I mean she stood up to Bakugou, without even flinching at his tone.

“Oi, squirt what’s your quirk. And quit rambling like shitty Deku” Bakugou asked, interest evident in his tone. “ Right, my quirk is called Telekinesis, so I can move stuff with my mind. It was also how I was able to keep daddy in the air” Izumi responded, puffing her chest out comically in pride. “Huh so it skipped a generation, and your quirk is stronger than my mom’s. But you also have a different approach so maybe that helps. I wonder why yours is stronger, is it because of your mothers quirk. But then again my quirk is also powerful maybe an aspect of it ties to the genes maybe that’s why your quirk is stronger than moms” The older green haired individual began mumbling on, and he probably would have continued if he hadn’t been cut off by his lowly daughter hitting him in the head. “ Daddy stop mumbling,” Izumi stated sternly.

Bakugou grinned, he liked this kid's spunk and she seemed to have a strong quirk, even if she was shitty Deku’s kid. “Oi squirt fight me” He loudly proclaimed, earning all his classmates attention. Almost everyone began yelling over each other, what the hell dude and she just a kid another one was so not manly bro. Instead of being happy her dad’s old classmates were defending her, stopping her uncle from fighting her she got annoyed. So what if she was a child, this wouldn’t be her first time fighting her dad or her uncles. Before everyone could attack Bakugou even more a voice piqued up “ Sure, if that is alright with you sensei” she directed her attention towards Mr. Aizawa.

It wasn’t rational to challenge a child to a fight, but he couldn’t deny she had a great fighting spirit in her eyes. So he allowed it, he was curious himself to see how it would end. The control she displayed earlier was phenomenal, and she was only 10 but she had a lot of potential in his book. He shooed everuýone a bit away from the hothead and the young Midoriya, and so then created a ring of sorts acting a the line of confinement.

3…..2…...1…...GO!

Bakugou charged straight in with his usual right hook, only to have it swiftly caught by Izumi. She grabbed his right hand, squatted down a bit, then swiftly pushed her shoulder into his rib. The momentum of that allowed her to, even with some difficulty, flip his much larger body over her shoulder and into the ground. There was a small second of silence where Bakugou just laid on the ground in shock, a girl over 5 years younger than him just flipped him over her shoulder like it wasn’t even that hard. However Izumi didn’t give him time to think as she sent metal bars towards him. They had been fried earlier, before her arrival. Bakugou used his explosions to evade the metal projectiles, sending another one straight towards her face. Die squirt die, his colorful vocabulary re-entered the scene. She used her Telekinesis to command the explosion to change course and hit Bakugou square in the face instead. Slightly dazed Bakugou didn’t have time to move before a heel connected to his temple, effectively knocking him out.

Everyone who bore witness to this fight was shell shocked, Bakugou lost. The fight lasted only around 8 minutes before the winner of the 1 years sports festival got knocked out by a 10 year old girl. “Huh, that was easier than expected,” the panting girl exclaimed. Izuku could feel his chest swell with pride, that was his daughter. Strong and smart just like her parents. She walked over to Izuku and slumped against him “ I’m tired daddy, carry me” She looked up at him with those doe green eyes, and how could he say no to his little warrior princess. Blushing, he picked her up, and she let out a sigh of contentment. Using her quirk to command things on a molecular level, like Bakugou’s explosions always took a toll on her.

“Midoriya take Izumi to the dorms to let her rest, the rest of you come with me for our next exercise” Mr. Aizawa commanded the frozen teens and teacher. Izuku then began making his way to the dorms, asking his sleepy daughter a tornado of questions. Do you know about my quirk, how does your quirk work, how old is Haru, am I a good dad, who is your mom? Even in her sleepy state Izumi answered his questions to the best of her abilities, though she refused to reveal who her mother was.

When they arrived at the dorms he put her on the living room couch, and went to leave to grab her some old All Might merch that could fit her. Before he could leave she grabbed his cheeks rather harshly, looking him straight in the eye she said “Don’t worry about who mom is, she loves you for you so it's gonna be fine. Also don’t screw this up so I’ll still be born.” Izuku sweat dropped nervously, before getting out of her hold to go find that old merch of his.

When he returned to the living room after finding what he was looking for, he looked around only to find that it was empty. He walked over to the couch and coffee table where he found a note, picking it up and sitting down on the couch to read it. Dearest daddy, I felt tingly so I think the quirk is gonna wear off now. I just wanted to say that you are awesome and the best daddy out there, I love you so much. I’ll see you again in the future - hugs Izumi Midoriya. Izuku’s heart fell, she had only just arrived an hour or so ago and now she was gone. He didn’t get to know his daughter better like he had hoped, and he didn’t get to see her adorably dressed up in his old All Might merch. He read the note over and over again, trying to satisfy his heart. He would see her again in the future, and then it clicked. his heart swelled, yeah he would see Izumu again some day.

Yeah he would see her again when he was married and happy. Yeah he could wait for that, as long as he has too.

@rainypeachbakerygoth

#bnha #midoriya izuku #mha bakugou #shoto todoroki #mha #dad au #Izumi is badass

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charming-2d-boys · 4 years ago

Note

We back! This is the anon who shared the idea of Chrollo dating Hisokas twin. Can I get some of how you think dinner would go? Format is your choice!

Oh oh oh, hi! 🙋

Yeah, I remember!

This is the ask in question, for those wanting to know the context 😄

Thanks for requesting and please enjoy it! 🙇💕

A/N: I might’ve changed a few things here and there, hopefully it’s nothing too drastic 🙇

Word count: 1753

Parts: Two, Three ...

Not you again! - Chrollo x Reader (feat. Twin!Hisoka)

If he was being honest, one of the first things Chrollo noticed about you were your eyes - golden, sometimes like the sunset, other times like honey. He loved looking into your eyes and seeing those little specks of actual gold in them. It always reminded him of the gold in the treasures the Troupe had stolen.

Paired with your smile and your personality that attracted him like a magnet, Chrollo could honestly say that pursuing you was one of his best decisions yet. Of course, he couldn’t be 100% honest with you and just spill everything about himself. But he did realise that with you, it was a give-and-take relationship. And also a pretty honest one - not your boyfriend’s style at all. You’d tell him things about yourself, but he’d have to do the same thing. And he had to be truthful - after all, he did try to lie to you... it didn’t work and you didn’t speak with him for an entire week until he apologised.

Now, he wasn’t going to pour all of his thoughts and insecurities to you just because of that. But his curiosity about you would often win and he’d end up saying something personal in return. Which he didn’t really mind, not anymore, at least. He knew you weren’t the type to just go and talk about unnecessary things with others – despite knowing who he was and what he was doing, for the most part. When you heard that it was illegal, you told him to not tell you anything unless he had to. That was something Chrollo liked about you, mostly because he didn’t want you to be too involved into the Troupe’s business. But being able to talk to you so freely without too many worries and being vulnerable around you as time passed seemed natural.

You felt the same, especially when you told him that the only person who might want to know him was your brother – seeing as your relationship was going on and stronger. From everything you’d told him, he seemed like more of a lone wolf and someone who people tended to avoid – though you stuck by his side like glue and vice versa. Even you had a lot of fights with him, even now, as adults. But he was your twin brother and you loved him, as much of an idiot as he was. Which made your boyfriend chuckle.

Right now, you and Chrollo were on the couch, hanging out. Though there was something different about him. He was upset and when you asked him for a reason, he only told you that he had lost a few friends. You thought there might’ve been something more, but you left it at that, instead consoling him as best as you could. Your boyfriend deemed the temporary inability of using his Nen and the Judgment Chain bound to his heart – that could kill him if he broke any of the set conditions – as part of the “unnecessary things” that he didn’t want to tell you. Worrying you was one of the last things he wanted to do anyway. Good thing you weren’t a Spider and that your home always felt like some sort of a safe haven – blending in perfectly and without standing out. Plus, you were always careful – Chrollo thought that was just who you were and never asked.

“So, what do you think about dinner on Saturday at my place? I really want the two of you to meet already. Ever since he heard about me having a boyfriend, he’s been on my case and I might love him, but I’m going to kill him soon.” Chrollo laughed, thinking that this might not be so bad as he agreed. He was charming and always got on pretty much everyone’s good side. He was sure that your brother wouldn’t be any different.

Unbeknownst to him, you hadn’t told your brother anything, not even Chrollo’s name. And you hadn’t told your boyfriend what your brother’s name was either. Unfortunately, Hisoka’s name was infamous among Nen users and pretty much any potential partner… ran for the hills when they heard it. Plus, you’d had issues in the past with people who wanted to fight or get their revenge against Hisoka – and somehow found your home. You’d get rid of them quickly, of course, but you’d learnt your lesson. You both kept your secrets to yourselves when you wanted to and wouldn’t let go of them, not even to one another. He might’ve been your brother, but he was an annoying and persistent one at that. Good thing he wasn’t in town yet – on a mission with some friend of his or something – otherwise he might’ve come right then and there.

That Saturday night, both you and your boyfriend were making the last preparations for dinner. With how often he left, you’d forgotten how much fun cooking with Chrollo was. On the nights where neither of you were too tired, he’d gradually pull you into a slow dance while the food was left to simmer or cook. It was always relaxing and he’d always twirl you around at least once before leaning you backwards, only to pull you back in for a kiss. Those nights were honestly the best.

Chrollo had just finished bringing the food to the table while you were trying to open a bottle of wine, only to spill a little on your shirt. Right then, the doorbell rang and you sighed.

“I’m going to change my shirt. Can you get the door, please? And don’t kill each other while I’m gone!” You said loudly as your boyfriend chuckled and walked towards the entrance. What greeted him on the other side left both him and your brother with wide eyes and pretty much frozen.

“You… ♣” Hisoka’s voice died in his throat as he stared at his “former boss”, who quickly regained his composure as he stared at the magician’s attire.

“So you’re the infamous twin… Should’ve known it was you when I saw their eyes the first time. Hmm… dark red suits you.” Chrollo commented as he inspected Hisoka’s clothes and lack of make-up – so different from what he was used to.

“Chrollo! What’s taking you so long? Oh, hi, Hiso! Long time no see!” You greeted your brother as you came behind you boyfriend, finally dressed in a clean shirt. Hisoka’s eyes moved to you before Chrollo moved aside, letting your twin get inside. You guided him to the table as soon as he took his shoes off, asking him about how he’d been and such. Hisoka’s answers were short and gave almost nothing away, his attention somehow on Chrollo and his movements. Both of them were quiet, but you chalked it up to nerves. Even during dinner, the two of them said nothing to one another and you were left talking – more like being interrogated – by your twin brother.

“How long have you been together for? ♣”

“A couple of months now.”

“Why didn’t you tell me? ♣”

“Maybe because it’s none of your business who I date? I’m an adult, too, you know? I can make my own decisions.”

“But why him? ♣ Of all people! ♣”

“Hiso, that’s rude. I don’t judge your dates, so don’t do it to me either.” Chrollo seemed amused by how childish Hisoka was acting. “What’s so funny?” You asked, smiling at your boyfriend. He only shook his head, grabbing onto your hand that was on the table.

“Nothing, love. It’s just funny seeing the two of you banter.” Hisoka felt like he’d pop a vessel. This guy, the leader of the Phantom Troupe, now useless because of the Judgement Chain on his heart, was your boyfriend? Just the thought of his opportunity for a fight with Chrollo being so close and also the fact that you were with him made his emotions feel mixed up. But he had no interest in Chrollo, now that he couldn’t use his Nen. But at the same time, he couldn’t just stand by and watch you be with him. Who knew what he was planning?

What if he was only using you?

What if he would kill you when he had no use for you anymore?

What would he do if you were gone and it was all because of Chrollo?

“Hiso, are you okay?” You asked, worried about the glare your brother had set on your boyfriend and his silence. He only nodded and the three of you continued to eat. You guessed your brother was just worried about you, which was sweet. Though it was clear he didn’t really like Chrollo. You were sure he’d come to like him in time.

“The food was great. ♥️️” Hisoka complimented you, seemingly in a slightly better mood now that he’d eaten.

“And I have dessert as well. I made your favourite. I’ll go get it.” You quickly kissed Chrollo’s cheek before taking all the plates – you refused to let any of them help – and going to the kitchen.

“If you hurt them in any way… ♣” Hisoka said in a low voice, eyes almost ablaze with how he felt: confusion, anger, fear – all for your safety.

“I don’t plan on hurting them, I assure you.” There was silence for a while as you were bustling about, putting the dishes in the dishwasher and taking clean plates and cutlery for the dessert. “I managed to acquire a copy of Greed Island. Unfortunately, you need to use Nen in order to be able to play it, otherwise I would’ve done this myself. If you can find a Nen Exorcist and remove the chain user’s ability, I’ll fight you.” Chrollo saw the little glint in Hisoka’s eyes return, knowing that there was indeed a chance to finally fight the Spider. Maybe then you’d find a better boyfriend.

“Here, I hope you’ve missed it, Hiso. Have you tried this before, Chrollo?” You brought the plates and started sharing the sweets to each one of you before taking your seat next to Chrollo. Your boyfriend shook his head before accepting a spoonful from you.

“Tastes great, love. You’ll have to teach me the recipe some time.” He immediately felt Hisoka’s glare on him and he smirked as he glanced at your twin.

Really now, how did he not realise that you were related? Those golden eyes that you had were also glaring at him from the other side of the table. Good thing the one he cared about only showed their love for him with those eyes.

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

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dancingthesambaa · 4 years ago

Text

The Smell of Plum Blossom Tea Ch 4

Summary: Just like a butterfly wing, a single act of kindness can change the course of the future, it certainly did for MK as a black-furred monkey put out a hand towards him.

Rating: Teen and up

Chapter 4: Ramen Noodles for the Soul

There was a battle commencing as two shadows faced off against each other, one being a ghastly figure that had the body of a tiger, but nine human heads with elongated necks and the other was a petite woman and all she had with her was a fan. The dark area surrounding them was riddled with buildings ripped apart and the still bodies of people then the beast lunged at her with a silent roar.

“The Kaiming Shou ran first as they viciously tried to strike the Geisha down,” the voice said as the creature was about to tackle her down, “but she was too quick for him,” the woman elegantly dodged as she leaped into the air.

“The woman was through with the beast wanton destruction so with her aim true she cut off the first head,” the woman fan opened and it had cut off one of the creature heads. “And then the second,” the next head soon plopped to the floor as she continued that action until she was left with only a headless body, “until finally none remained and with a flick of her fan,” The Geisha’s eyes seemed to narrow minutely as she gently waved her fan to the beast and it erupted in a gulf of blackened flames. “they had burned into the nothingness.”

The scene then transformed into one of peace, the bodies and destruction vanished and in its place, a field of flowers had grown next to a rustling town.

“No one knows exactly where the Geisha had gone nor who she was, but that had no purpose in the townspeople's eyes as they were grateful for saving them in their time of need,” the voice continued as the villagers all bowed to the field of flowers. “So they tell this story, not in hopes of finding who she was, but rather to tell all that if you ever happen to meet the valiant woman that saved them from ruins, to kindly welcome her with open arms.” The scene faded to black and a few seconds later a round of applause erupted with cheers quickly pursuing.

The voice took off his hood and gave a mock bow to the audience as made his way off the stage to let the next person go.

“Mac, why are you such a hard act to follow,” one of the performers sighed as he walked towards the stage, “you know everything after yours is gonna be less than mediocre.”

“Then get good,” he smirked.

“Maybe you're just too good,” he playfully punched the monkey's shoulder as he went to the stage to set up.

“That was awesome!” A young boy bolted from his seat as he collided into Macaque, “super cool!”

“Thanks kiddo,” he said as he lifted him off the ground and tucked him under his arm, “now let’s find your sister before she rips off your head.”

“Pfft, Yan Yan won’t be too-,”

“BAO!” A voice sternly called out and he could feel the boy shrink.

“Shit,” he muttered as he soon saw his sister followed by his brothers and sisters and a certain Jellyfish demon, “double shit.”

“Thank you for finding him Mackey, your plays are marvelous as always,” the bluenette woman gave a quick smile to her former teacher and her eyes pivoted on her idiot brother as it tightened, “as for you.”

“I love you very much,” Bao said with puppy dog eyes and a pout as soon as he was let down.

“Really,” Bohai deadpanned as one of the children began to play with his tendrils.

“Cute, but that stopped working a long time ago,” she instead began to lecture him on the dangers of leaving without telling anyone as they all left, some even complimenting him on his play as they walked by.

“Yan is really protective when it comes to them,” Mei hummed out as she dragged MK by the sleeve of his purple jacket, who was morning.

“You should see when they go out in the street, that’s a right nightmare,” he said as he tied his fluffy mane of fur back up in a ponytail. “Swear the only reason she is friends with Bohai is that he can help wrangle all those kids.”

“Soooo, I didn’t know you were such a theater nerd,” she mischievously grinned. She was excited to find out that the tough, grumpy monkey actually had a love for the theatrics and voluntarily went out from time to time to play at the theater. She teased him endlessly for this the second she found out about it.

“Dad likes his dramatics,” MK unhelpfully replied as he crossed his arms.

“What’s got you so moody,” the father asked and all he got was a groan in response.

“Someone dropped all of his snacks and he won’t stop whining about it,” she teased him.

“My caramel popcorn was in there!” He dramatically cried out and fell to his knees. “All that delicious goodness! Gone!”

“How about ol doc over here can take us to this amazing noodle shop I know,” Mei patted his shoulder.

“Really?” He looked up at her with hope.

“I am?” Mac quirked one of his eyebrows.

“Yes, because you don’t want two poor children to go hungry,” the fourteen year old put her hands on her head in a faint.

“I am soo hungry,” MK flopped on the ground to emphasize both of their points.

“I guess if I have to,” he begrudgingly agreed in a mocking tone as the two teenagers cheered.

“I’m telling you, this place's noodles are simply to die for,” Mei said as they approached a restaurant called Pigsy Noodles.

“I’ll take your word for it,” the monkey demon shrugged as Mei opened the doors wide open and they heard a friendly voice greet them.

“Welcome to Pigsy Noodles!” They saw a short pig in an apron turn around to face the group, “How can I help-,” he paused for a moment as he stared not at the kids, but rather at the monkey that was accompanying them. He didn’t know why, he never met the chimp before, but something felt a bit...off about that simian.

He wasn’t the only one as Macaque felt almost a tinge of tension, now he met all types of Pig demons, but he has never felt one so similar to Zhu Baije before.

It was a tense stand-off before Mei butted in, “We are here for your finest noodles! I promised MK here that yours is simply the best!”

This snapped the pig out in an instant as he smiled at the two, “well of course it is, come and sit. I’ll have the menu out in a jiffy,” he gave a nod and turned to grab the items.

The three sat down and the monkey gave a quick once over on Pigsy, both physically and spiritually, and relaxed once he realized that, no this was not the original Zhu Baije, it was just someone that had an eerie likeness to him. But he still kept a careful eye out to him and he knew that Pigsy was doing the same as he kept glancing over to him from time to time as he prepared another customer's food.

“Mmmm, this is good!” MK said as he slurped some of the noodles.

“What’d I tell you,” Mei said with her mouth full of Yao mein.

Macaque mentally agreed as he sat in between the both of them and silently ate his food.

“Many thanks from such esteemed customers,” the pig demon jokingly said.

“It’s quite good,” another voice added, though this time Pigsy's smile quickly turned to irritation at that voice.

“It's better to be the best damn thing you have eaten with the number of times you don’t pay freeloader,” he said.

“Ah, but isn’t the knowledge of my experience of my worldly knowledge of the unknowns, myths, and truth that surround our world. Whether it comes from the depths below to the heavens high in the sky, truly that is the greatest substance of all ” the man mysteriously says as his glasses almost glinted.

“Is it money,” Pigsy deadpanned.

“No,” the aura of mystery that surrounded him suddenly dissipated as he sheepishly grins.

“Then I don’t care!”

“What kind of unknown?” MK perked up as he turned to look at the stranger. “Is it cool? Are they adventures?”

“How about fights? Are there lots of action packed ones filled with danger and mysteries?!” Mei joined in as she got interested as well.

“All of that and more,” the stranger hopped into the chance to tell some of the stories that he had uncovered. “You have all heard the tale of the Legendary Monkey King, correct?”

“Yeah!” They both excitedly cheered but paused as they glanced back to Macaque who was still eating.

“As long as you don't up and leave the restaurant, you can listen,” he waved them off very much knowing why they looked to him in the first place. “Get me another bowl please,” Mac said to Pigsy as he handed him some money.

The pig just nodded as he turned his back to start up another bowl.

The two smiled at him and rushed off to hear the stories on the other end of the counter and that left both Pigsy and Macaque alone together, who both silently decided that it would be best to passively listen to the story than talk to each other.

“-and legends say, that only one with vast knowledge and strength are the only ones they can create the mystical pills of immortality,” Tang mysteriously said as the mythical book was laid out between them.

“So only people with amazing powers can do that!” MK’s eyes widened. “So cool!”

“Or they can just steal it, like the Monkey King,” Mei grinned.

“Or that too,” Tang nodded to her, “but even that was a feat in itself that he had managed to successfully procure such valuable items in that time frame.”

“Man it must be tough to find them all,” MK said.

“It is, some are deep under the seas where only the legendary dragons dwell, another is high up on the mountain tops where you have to pluck it just right or else you have to wait for eons before trying but want to know a secret,” Tang leaned in.

“Yeah,” they whispered and followed suit.

“There is said to be a plant in the Plum Blossom forest that is an ingredient to make the Pills, but no one has yet to find it,” the man happily stated as he began to talk, not knowing of the two nervous glances as they forced themselves not to turn around to a certain monkey.

Macaque only grinned into his cup once he heard that, but Pigsy scoffed.

“Sounds like a bunch of nonsense to me,” he said as he wiped down the counters.

“Well every myth has a fraction of the truth,” he rebutted, “so I’m not giving up my exploration yet.”

“You visit the forest?” Mei curiously asked.

“I try to go as much as I can, but not just for the plants, there is rumored to be all types of different mythical creatures and spirits that wander in the forest,” Tang excitedly said.

“Oh really,” MK forced out with a pained grin, Mei was the same as she had seen some of them when she slept over one day. “That sounds really cool.”

“So,” the pigtailed girl tried to redirect the conversation, “I want to hear more about the Monkey King or any other gods, please.”

“Well I do have one in mind,” the man's eyes lit up as he flipped through the pages.

The two kids have a sigh of relief.

“The Six Eared Macaque is an interesting one.”

And immediately they both tensed back up.

“He is a demon that has caused mass confusion throughout history as no historian can agree which version is correct,” he landed on a page with a shadowed monkey with glowing violet eyes that seemed to bore into them.

“Oh, well-,” MK was cut off by Tang as he went on.

“Is he this one-note villain that simply stood in the Monkey King way or is he more of the mischievous trickster that helped wandering souls against vengeful beings and healed those when they asked. Is he both? If so, was he the healer before or after the Journey? If before then why did he decide to attack the Monkey King? If after, how did he survive that last attack? There are just too many questions that surround the origin of the Six-Eared Macaque, it’s truly quite fitting due to his nature.”

“It really is,” Mei gritted her teeth and slowly turned to face said Monkey demon, “hey Ma-I mean fluffy, I think it’s time we head home, right MK.”

“Yes we do,” he robotically said as the two made their way back to him.

“Oh is it getting late?” Tang blinked, “I didn’t even realize it.”

“It’s all good,” Macaque smirked as he ruffled the two heads, “nice stories.”

“History you mean,” he gave a wide smile, “besides, they were very good listeners…sorry I didn't catch your name?”

“Macaque,” he happily ignored the kid's panicked stares at him.

The man looked at him for a solid minute before laughing, “like the Six Eared Macaque! What a strange coincidence.”

“It sure is,” he smirked.

“Your parents must have loved the myths then,” he wiped a tear.

He shrugged, “it came along the way.”

Tang was a bit confused by that, but before he could ask the monkey he put a hand on both of the teenager’s shoulders and they seemed to vanish the next moment.

“…alright I’m not even gonna question how,” Pigsy grumbled as he continued cleaning.

“He vanished like a thief in the night,” Tang said in amusement.

“At least this thief paid for his food,” the pig grumbled then he noticed that there was some money with a note. Pigsy took a glance at the message and he gave a slight grin, “congratulations Tang, I won’t be on your ass today about your meal.”

“Huh, but you never let go of a chance to put it over my head?” The historian questioned as he walked over.

“Well you can thank their dad,” the pig demon showed him the note and he read it.

Thanks for keeping them entertained, food is on me.

“Well that is nice of him,” he smiled, “I hope they come back sometimes.”

“Hmph, any paying customers are more than welcome,” the pig said as he continued his cleaning, while the historian was more than happy as he continued to eat.

It was the middle of the day and both kids had their designated classes, whether online or home tutoring, and he was currently plucking out some of the weeds from a batch of Morning Glories when he saw the flowers bloom. “Back again already crackpot,” he called out as he took out one of the longer weeds he was plucking out of his mouth.

A croaky voice with a laugh, “what can I say, I can’t stay away from your glowing personality.”

He rolled his eyes as he stood up and turned to meet a balding old man with frizzy red hair and no shoes on his feet, “fuck off.”

The old man gave him a toothy grin as he flopped to the ground, poured a cup of wine, and held it out to the monkey.

“A bit too early for a drink there Shen,” he mused as he took the cup from his hand and sat next to him.

“It’s late somewhere else,” he chuckled and leaned back against one of the Plum trees.

“Yeah yeah,” he waved him off and took a sip of the drink, “don’t you get tired of drinking the same shit every time?”

“Yep,” Shen said.

“And you're still not gonna switch it out any time soon?”

“Nope,” he grinned and took a swing.

“You know one day you’re gonna tell me what the hell this is,” he grumbled in his drink.

“Not on my life.”

“Thought so.”

“Hey Dad,” MK called out as he entered the infirmary, “do you know where-,” he paused as he saw that he wasn’t alone.

“Didn’t expect you to have a hatchling,” the large alligator demon said, or what he assumed was an alligator as he looked almost similar to a ghost but in blue.

“Not most do,” Mac said as he picked out a violet plant and started to look it up in a book.

“Uhhhh,” his mind was running a mile a minute trying to come up with what was happening. “Sorry?”

He waved him off, “just be glad it wasn’t surgery.”

“So what is going on?” He asked as he slowly closed the door behind him.

“Just whipping up an antidote for him,” he hummed out.

“I didn’t know ghosts needed medicine.”

“Not a ghost,” the alligator muttered.

“Huh?”

“What he means is that he’s in his corporeal form,” Mac further explained as he began to dice up the plant. “Had to with the amount of poison in his system, so I just placed him in the lamp as usual.”

“Poison!? Lamp?!” He said in alarm.

“…oh I guess you have never seen it before, hold on.” Mac finished placing the last ingredient inside, stirred it, and let it simmer. He turned to the alligator, “want to rest or free roam?”

“Rest,” he said.

The monkey complied as he used his tail to grab a lantern and in the next moment, the transparent demon was gone.

“What is that?” MK went forward to get a better look.

“This is the Shadow Lamp, it allows me to store people's bodies in there, which puts said bodies in a stasis thus allowing me plenty of time to make the medicine needed.”

“Oh, so it’s like a fancy tool to help patients! Why don’t all doctors have this?”

“Cause originally this was not a medical tool,” he explained as he carefully set the lamp down.

“A weapon? How?” He tilted his head, he didn’t see how a lamp can cause harm.

“It was used to suck the bodies in the lamp, but be able to control their shadow against their own will,” he inwardly chuckled at MK's shocked face.

“What?! That can happen?!”

“Yep.”

“But wait?” He backtracked as he looked at the lamp, “if it’s so dangerous why are you using it?”

“At the end of the day, a weapon is just a tool,” he quietly said, “it doesn’t have any emotions, no attachments, no moral conceptions, it’s just a tool that anyone can use. It’s the one who uses the weapon that determines how the tool can be used.”

“Really?”

Macaque paused as he looked into MK bright eyes, he gave a small smile.

“Really.”

He put away his supplies and safety materials before ruffling MK’s long hair. “Now how about you tell me what you were originally here for nightlight.”

“Oh right! Do you know where the spare water bottles are? The others have holes punctured in them.”

“Damnit Minsheng,” Mac pinched his nose, “they should be in the bottom cabinet by the fridge.”

“Thanks!” He said as he left the infirmary, “Want me to bring you anything?”

“No, I’ll be a bit busy,” he muttered as he took out his phone, “I have a few arrangements to make, specifically with some glue, rope, and a whole lot of glitter.

“Hey Pigsy!” MK hollered out as he walked into the shop, “the usual please!”

“Coming right up,” the pig grinned as he was already preparing his order.

The fifteen year old grinned as he sprawled over the counter, “Tang not here today?”

“Surprisingly no, he’s probably off at the library or some antique store,” the pig demon then noticed that he was alone, “surprised I don’t see Macaque or Mei here.”

“Well Mei wanted to pick out her future bike, so she dragged Dad over to the auto shop.”

“Auto Shop? For a bike?”

“Motorcycle,” he explained.

“Ah,” he nodded and placed his food in front of him, “bon appetit.”

“Thank you!” He cheerfully replied as he dug into his food.

Pigsy just grins at the boy as he was about to go back to cleaning up since MK was the only one in, but he paused as a probing thought couldn’t leave his mind. He knows it wasn’t any of his business and he hasn’t seen anything damaging nor even concerning, but his damn gut has been bothering him ever since he laid eyes on him. “So kid.”

“Hm?” MK looked up as some noodles were hanging from his mouth.

“I'm a bit curious about your old man, he isn’t the chattiest bunch and I’m a bit curious at what he does,” he casually asks.

“He’s a doctor!”

“Really?” Now that was a surprise, he was betting on being some sort of martial arts teacher.

“Really! He’s super smart and a bunch of people and demons go to him, he’s even had a student before.”

“Huh, doesn’t seem like the type to take on a student.”

“No, but she was really persistent,” he grinned at the understatement.

“I bet.”

“Though he is a bigggg worrywart,” he leaned back from his chair.

“He is?”

“Oh yeah, like there was this one time when I was ten that I scraped my finger against a really thorny plant and when I yelled out, he instantly picked me up and started to treat my entire arm as he tried to find out if the plant was poisonous while asking me if I had a fever, nausea or any other symptoms and during that entire time I was not let down,” he deadpanned.

He snorted at the image, “that certainly is unexpected.”

“He also sometimes performs shadow plays at the theater.”

“Flair for the dramatics,” he quirked his eyebrow.

“Like you wouldn’t believe it,” he nodded.

Pigsy chuckled, “makes me wonder how he met your mother then.” Though he stopped as he saw MK fell silent and his face flushed. “…did I say something wrong?”

His head shot up and he shook his hands, “No! Nothing! You said nothing wrong! Well-actually a bit, but not anything mean! It’s just that-well he…adopted me.” He couldn’t help the grin that formed on his face.

“Oh-shit, I’m sorry that was really callous of me,” he winced, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“My loss?” His grin faded at the unusual statement.

“Your parents,” he clarified.

“Oh,” face completely slack and blank, “they're not dead.”

Pigsy’s eyes blinked, “Oh,” then he came to the realization of just what he meant and his voice and face dropped, “oh.”

MK gave a sad little smile, “Yeah, he actually found me in a back alley when it was about to rain and he adopted me from that point on. He may not be blood related to me, but he’s still my dad.”

The pig smiles and begins to heat some noodles, “and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Now, you want some more? This one is on the house.”

“Yes please!” He perked up.

Pigsy couldn’t help but give a wide smile at the child's affectionate nature, it was contagious.

‘Glad for my gut to be wrong for once,’ he mentally thought as he poured the soup in, ‘he just looks like the usual jackasses you see in the underbelly, but he’s just a protective bastard for his kid…kids, half sure that he practically adopted girlie.’ He should ask the monkey next time he comes in, it would be hilarious to see his reaction…damnit Tang has infected him.

Macaque was standing in front of the two teenagers in one of the forest's many clearings, “So after much deliberation, I decided to finally teach you how to actually fight.”

“I told you we would wear him down eventually,” Mei nudged MK, but they were both caught off guard when their feet were swept under them and they fell on their butts.

“First lesson, don’t let your guard down,” he said as his tail gently swished behind him, “that is the height of stupidity that will get you killed.”

“Noted,” they both groaned.

“Now,” he waited for a bit for them to get on their feet, “I can’t promise you that I am an expert on martial arts, most of my moves are just street fighting, but I can promise you that by the time I’m done with you guys, you will actually have a chance to put up a fight.”

MK and Mei listen intently.

“Mei,” she perks up, “I know your family has some sort of dragon ancestor right?”

“Oh yeah! The Great Dragon of the West Sea,” she proudly stated.

Macaque could only blink at the irony as he quickly realized just who her ancestor, or rather the son of the said ancestor, was, “Nope, not going to open that can of worms,” he muttered. “But yes that, and I believe that you have already looked through some of the martial arts teachings that was formed by him?”

“Yeahhh, but I’m having real trouble with actually learning some of the moves,” she nervously chuckled.

“That’s cause it shares the same qualities as Tai Chi, though with much serpentine movement, I have fought quite a few with that kind of style and usually two things stand out to me, they are quick and accurate.”

“Like a snake,” she nodded.

“Like a snake,” he agreed, “I can definitely teach a few off of the top of my head, but it would probably be best if I see a few of your scrolls at a later point so I can demonstrate.”

“Hell yeah!” She pumped her fist in the air.

“Alright, MK,” his head perked up at the call of his name, “you have zero knowledge of any type of fighting.”

He deflated at that.

“Which makes it easier to incorporate my style onto you.”

He instantly inflated back up.

“If there is one thing I have learned in all my years of fighting is-,” he vanished from view and both kids scrambled forward to escape being surprised from behind, only to be startled when they found their heads being gently pushed down from above and they were once again sprawled out.

“Be unpredictable,” he cheekily stated as he landed back down.

“Why do I get the feeling that we’re going to be falling down a lot,” MK said as he lifted his face off the grass.

“I have a feeling you're right,” Mei muttered as she laid flat on her back.

“Like I said, welcome to your first class my unruly disciples,” he gave the most shit eating grin, “you have a lot to learn.”

#monkie kid #mk #macaque #PlumTeaAU

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karlyfr13s · 4 years ago

Text

Oathkeeper Chapter 2

It was supposed to be a CS one-shot, but then the CSMM crew got ahold of me and now we’re in multi-chapter mode. Thanks to the ladies for their inspiration, enabling, and cheering me on. Looking at you @teamhook, @caught-in-the-filter, @hollyethecurious, @gingerpolyglot (tell me if you want added, and coach the newbie in where these actually belong).

A HUGE thank you to @veryverynotgood who is the most radiant beta and gives me flails that keep me going through the self-doubt.

Links in case you missed Chapter 1 or prefer to read on ao3

Note: the rating is now M due to violent imagery.

Killian’s first week in Storybrooke was unconventional and more than a little confusing. Everyone in the whole bloody town seemed related, or at least so interconnected there may as well be blood involved; it drew attention to him and he spent most days certain he was being watched.

Certainly there were fewer eyes on him than on the young Lost Boy, Felix, and for that Killian was grateful. He observed the woman everyone called Granny as she put the lad to work with a nearly endless list of chores, always under her watchful, scrutinizing eye. In want of conversation one evening, he’d inquired about the choice to take on someone such as Felix. That had earned him a derisive snort and an eye-roll that rivaled Emma Swan’s when Granny explained in no uncertain terms that she was well-equipped for the job.

“Listen, Captain,” she leaned on the bar as he sipped a rum, “if I can raise Ruby through puberty as a damn wolf, I can handle one scrappy Lost Boy. What he needs is a strong guiding hand, and a good dose of responsibility--that Pan let those kids run wild.” Killian tipped his glass to her at that assessment, knowing all too clearly how the lads were deceived and used throughout their time in Neverland. “Structure, Hoo--it’s Killian, right?” she amended quickly. “Kids need structure and routine. You’d do well to remember that.”

Not for the first time, Killian wondered exactly how much Granny overheard and knew as she watched her patrons come and go. In fact, she was the only one in town who referred to him by his given name, most simply opting for Hook or Captain if they were being pleasant. Or ‘the pirate’ if they happen to be Emma’s father, he added. His ponderance was abruptly interrupted when the door crashed open and an exasperated looking Emma quickly crossed to the bar and sank down one stool from his own.

“This one calls for a whisky on the rocks, Granny,” she huffed, casting a sidelong glance at Killian’s own glass. “You too, huh? Must be going around today.” He watched as she shucked her red leather jacket, tossing it aside on the barstool between them and he gave her a moment, offering a quick clink of his glass once her own libation arrived.

“To what do we owe the pleasure?” Killian kept his voice light, noting the tension in the set of her shoulders and jaw.

She heaved a sigh and he made a valiant effort to focus on her stunning green eyes rather than the assets her movements showcased in that moment. “The short version? I’m sick of my mother,” she tripped on the word, “trying to be my life coach. I’m tired of inane ‘loitering’ reports from the surliest dwarf, and I cannot seem to get--” her momentum was immediately interrupted by the door and a sudden call across the diner.

“Ems, there you are!”

“--a single minute of quiet,” Emma finished lowly while Neal sauntered over and leaned against the counter, placing himself between Killian and her.

“So, I was thinking we could grab dinner. You know, you, me and Henry? Or maybe just you and me if Regina has--”

“Neal, I’ve had a long day. I am going to enjoy this drink, maybe a second, and then I am eating whatever I rummage out of the pantry at Mary Margaret’s since she and David are out on a date.”

“So you have the place to yourself?”

Killian understood the insinuation and clenched his jaw. He started counting backward from ten while he listened to Emma try to redirect Neal’s plans, and when he heard the other man’s second attempt to garner an invitation he reset the clock and started the count at twenty. Perhaps she cares for him, he reminded himself. She is tired and had a difficult day, but that does not mean she has chosen not to be with--

Her voice was suddenly raised and Killian felt like he was about four steps behind the conversation as he snapped to attention on the words she spat at the man across from her.

“Just go-- go, Neal. This isn’t happening. Not tonight. Not tomorrow. It is not happening .” Whatever expression she held in that moment must have been truly glorious to earn Neal’s melodramatic scoff as he stormed out the diner and slammed the door behind him.

Granny simply poured a healthy splash of whisky in Emma’s glass in reply before shuffling back to the kitchen as she had witnessed the whole interaction mere steps from Killian, who just now was actively working to control both his expression and the thoughts wheeling through his mind at her parting shot. What exactly was not happening between them? Where did that leave him?

Killian glanced over at Emma, her eyes ablaze as if challenging him to comment on the interaction. “Darts are quiet,” he offered congenially, smiling what he considered his most winning grin.

That earned him a quick bark of laughter. “And a little violent,” she smirked.

“Aye, that too, Swan.”

She held up her glass and they shared their second silent toast of the evening. “I could use a little of both,” she added as she got up, glass in hand and the beginnings of a smile playing at the corner of her mouth.

“I hear rumor they even sell food at this establishment,” Killian pressed his luck a bit as they collected the two sets of darts and set up.

“You don’t say?” She shook her head at him and he watched her consider the offer. “Loser buys?”

“Of course, love.” He sketched her a bow, flourishing his hand and making a show of it to cover up his surprise.

“Not your love,” she retorted, sinking a bullseye on her first try while Killian considered how grateful he was that Granny accepted doubloons. Where had she learned to play like this?

...

Granny hollered last call only moments after Emma bid Killian goodnight, a lightness to her steps as he watched her go. “Looks like that went well,” Granny called over as she wiped down the last table.

“Aye,” he tossed Granny a wink, “and she stayed for three games. And dessert.”

For the life of him, Killian couldn’t decipher Granny’s laugh at this simple observation until the double-entendre dawned on him at last. He was tired and perhaps he’d imbibed one too many glasses if he was the one missing the joke...it was then he noticed Emma’s jacket still laying across the barstool where she’d first dropped it.

“Seven hells,” he took off to the sound of Granny’s whooping call as she warned him the sheriff walked fast and he’d better work for it. Work for what exactly? Killian mused as he jogged out into the night, no easy feat in full leathers with more than a bit of drink in him. He spotted her golden hair in the lamplight down the street and called out, thinking it the better option than startling her.

She spun on her heel, wobbled slightly, and burst into laughter as she leaned against the lamppost for support--clearly he wasn’t the only to enjoy one too many this evening. Ever the gentleman, Killian held her jacket out and ignored her comment about being chased down Main Street by a pirate.

“Princess,” he began, calling far too loudly given the hour, “chivalry demands I return your cloak, lest you catch a chill on this dark night.” She shushed him less than successfully as she giggled and fell into step beside him-- Emma Swan can giggle, he mused. “As well,” he continued, voice full volume and bordering on a bellow, “I must see you safely to your door. No doubt there are ruffians about, and all manor of unsavory ne’er-do-wells, all seeking mischief against such an elegant,” he chuckled as she staggered slightly, “and graceful lady as thee.”

“You’re such an idiot, shut up! Do you want the whole neighborhood awake?” Her scolding was half-hearted at best considering her idea of a whisper could likely be heard across the street.

“Do you think they’ll call the sheriff, love” He waggled his eyebrows at her and she swatted his chest. “Surely you wouldn’t throw a man in the brig for an act of noblest courtesy,” at that he draped her jacket over her shoulders while she led the way and proceeded to spin a tale of his own unimpeachable valor as a young sailor. When they reached her dwelling, she turned to face him before heading up.

“Why do you always get it? Nobody gets it.” He raised a brow at her question. “Gets me. Like Neal,” she slurred the name and rolled her eyes. “I have a shitty day at work and he decides to make some weird pass at me through the kid ? But you,” she leaned in and poked Killian in the chest, keeping her index finger pressed against his sternum. “You’re the...the flirty pirate king and you just...throw sharp shit at a wall with me and buy me drinks. You didn’t even check out my ass more than once.”

He absolutely had, but far be it for Killian to correct the lady when this seemed to be going somewhere rather interesting.

“Can I tell you a secret?” she slurred.

Before he could suggest this was likely a bad idea as she would potentially regret whatever her next words were to be, she pulled him down by one of his coat lapels and whispered loudly, “My mom is Snow White, right? So she’s all about ‘true love’ and ‘happily ever after’,” her whisper became what he thought was an imitation of her mother, though he doubted that Snow White had ever been six whiskies and two rums deep.

“So she thinks that Neal is like...my Prince Charming, but here’s the secret: he’s not a prince! He’s a con-man, and he sure as hell isn’t charming. So whoops, Mom! Wrong bet!” She laughed and let go of his coat, poking the end of his nose and whispering something that sounded like the noise boop in the most infuriatingly impossible-to-understand gesture he’s witnessed yet. She gave him a glassy-eyed smile, and in a parting shot that left him speechless, she cupped his cheek and in a much softer tone murmured, “Goodnight, Killian.”

---

The morning arrived after less rest than he’d like, but Killian snapped awake as the sky first began to turn a dusty rose on the horizon. This was very likely the best mood he’d found himself in for quite some time, and he mused on the past twelve hours as he fiddled with the magic hot-water dispenser until he got the temperature just right. Unlike the Jolly , Granny’s provisions in terms of hygiene were lavish and he assumed they cost her a small fortune if Ruby and the guests enjoyed them as much as he did, but Granny assured him the soaps and amenities were provided, so he took great joy in letting the warm water run over him as he lathered up, breathing in the herbal and lemon scent so unlike the harsh lye soap he was accustomed to. This world without magic had its charms, and hot water on demand was his latest favorite.

He arrived downstairs for his other new-world favorite - coffee - and Killian was pleased to see Emma already at the counter, though she looked a great deal less chipper than he felt. “Good morning, Swan,” he sauntered up to take a seat at her left. “Beautiful morning, don’t you think?”

She grumbled something about a headache and before Killian could reply, Granny swooped in and all but insisted she sit and have breakfast. Despite her protests, Emma wound up delayed in her arrival to her post that morning as she was cajoled into a substantial pile of eggs, bacon, and toast. “Complain all you want, Sheriff,” Granny eyed her as she set a matching plate before Killian, “but you two need to soak up some of last night’s fun. Now, eat.” After obligingly refilling their mugs with steaming hot coffee, to which Emma added more than a bit of cream and sugar, Granny retreated to another table as the morning rush filled in around them.

They ate in companionable silence until Emma glanced over and opened with, “I beat you at darts, didn’t I?”

“Aye, two wins to my paltry one, Swan. I’m only grateful we chose not to wager more than dinner and drinks on the game, or my pockets would be a great deal more empty.” She smirked at his comment, and the two chatted as they worked through their breakfasts, both seeming to come alive as Granny had predicted.

He should have known it was all going far too well.

The bell above the door chimed, and the bustle of the patrons picking up coffee and pastries on their way to work or leisurely enjoying their breakfasts fell to a whisper. Killian stayed perfectly still as he heard the man limp toward the counter, the gentle thud of his cane giving him away. From the corner of his eye, he saw Emma roll her eyes at his clipped “Miss Swan,” and Killian stayed frozen to the spot, not trusting his reaction in front of the woman who not only was increasingly important in his life--a thought he’d sort out, or studiously avoid, later--but also represented the local law enforcement.

He heard few of the words exchanged between the Crocodile and Granny, though neither appeared pleased to be having the conversation. Instead, his pulse pounded in his head and his vision clouded as he clutched the edge of the counter. Killian had the distinct image of grabbing that gold-topped cane and flipping it, beating the man about the head until nothing recognizable remained. Until the gold handle dripped red. He could leave him on the floor of this place, twitching as the last impulses of his brain forced him to dance to a soundless tune; Killian could simply walk to the Jolly and set sail, free of the memory of this vile excuse for a man.

Except that he could do no such thing. He sat next to the sheriff in a small town diner surrounded by people who already distrusted him to varying degrees. He was trapped in a land that was not his own and had no way-- nor will --to return to his own. He was a captain without a crew, and as his mind raced through the numerous ways he could rid himself of this loathsome creature he knew now was not the time and certainly not the place. Simply put, Killian refused to put Emma in a position where she would be forced to see the darkness that lurked within him. So he let it pass, and let the Crocodile go for today.

It wasn’t long after the disruption that Emma took her leave, and Killian lingered at the counter as he mulled over what to do with his day. Most days he helped Granny with the more physically demanding repairs around the place, but he felt caged and in need of something more challenging.

“Appreciate you not taking his head off in my diner,” Granny remarked banally once the place emptied. “You have any idea what it takes to get blood out of white grout? Oh, don’t look so surprised; nothing smells quite like fear and rage rolled up in one, and I could smell yours from across the damn room.” She waved dismissively and filled two mugs, sliding one to him and keeping the other for herself. “It’s hot chocolate, and you need it. Little liquid comfort never hurt anyone, so drink up and tell me about it.”

He sipped hesitantly, but the woman was certainly right about the comforting power of the elixir before him. Killian thought about his next words as he breathed in the sweet steam from his mug, letting the cup warm his hand as he held it. “You could...smell my emotions?” He felt it best to begin with the obvious inquiry and prolong the tale of his darkest day.

“I could also hear your heart-rate skyrocket the second you knew who came through that door, so I’m guessing there’s some history there. You don’t have to tell me everything, Killian, but I need to know if I can trust you when you’re in here. Gold comes in to collect rent monthly, and every now and again he has lunch as well. I need to know you’re not going to take a kitchen knife to the bastard while I’m serving sandwiches.” She levelled a scrutinizing gaze at him and waited.

Killian set down his mug and scrubbed his hand over his face, realizing he was in need of a shave, then realizing he was further delaying the conversation. He sighed, knowing there was only one right way forward. “I will not spill his blood on your grounds, Granny, not unless he spills mine first. You have my word.” She nodded once, waiting for him to continue. And so he spent the sunny morning explaining how he lost his hand to the Dark One. While Killian left out much of the story of Milah, he could not entirely avoid her role in the tale, explaining simply that the man she knew as Gold had killed the woman Killian loved right in front of his eyes. Granny was sympathetic and asked few questions, letting him choose how much to reveal. It was cathartic, in a way - a chance to tell someone this piece of truth. A chance to be heard.

When they were finished, Granny spoke briefly of her wolfish nature, a truth which Killian enjoyed as it made her acute hearing and perceptiveness make far more sense. “I know your heart-rate also picks up around a certain sheriff,” she added as Killian slipped on his greatcoat, readying himself to find busywork on the Jolly . “And I know hers does around you.” She eyed him closely then, searching for he knew not what. “Be careful with her, Killian. I don’t know everything--I’m not sure anyone does--but I can see enough to know she’s been hurt, and that hurt hasn’t fully healed. In fact, I’m damn sure the source of it just waltzed back into her life.”

He nodded his understanding and left her to her work. Given the woman’s preternatural understanding of her patrons, he was not about to argue. He chewed her words over in his mind repeatedly as he spent the rest of the day checking that everything aboard his beloved Jolly was in tip-top shape. While his life may be constant chaos in this world, at least he could be assured his ship was as perfect as ever.

#cs au #captain swan #cs ff #csmm #killian jones #emma swan #captain swan au #karly tries her hand at writing

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goldenzingy46butwriteblr · 4 years ago

Note

Jail break fic👀Can we hear more about this?Very interested!

oh god yes

Untitled as of yet, jail break fic is a fic with a plot that consists out of breaking out of a high security prison, for the worst of the worst, the scum of England, and it’s no easy feat.

(haha whoops it got long again)

It’s Tom POV, and he’s not quite registered the fact that murder is illegal.

Tom jerked, hands fighting the cuffs behind his back. Once he entered those cells, he'd have to live out his sentence, there was no other option. Escaping now seemed like the best idea.

The guard seized his shoulder.

"You're coming with me."

"Could you, like, not grab me so tight? I'm losing blood circulation." Tom said.

The guard rolled his eyes. "I'm sure that's what the girl said as you hung her."

Tom spluttered. "Look, it was only one person! Come on, man, surely it's not that bad!"

"Nice try, Riddle," and, with that, Tom was shoved into a cell.

He’s well known for his crimes, and, whilst only one of them is a murder, he is guilty of many things. He might also be a bit of an idiot, but we all have our flaws, right?

They hadn't even taken the cuffs off. He didn't know that high security meant, like, high security. These were goddamn uncomfortable.

Tom was an escape artist of lowly society, a killer of the arts. He'd killed one woman, but his other crimes were stacked up against him, too. He painted beautiful pictures with what he did - above all, Tom was an artist.

He wove light into the dark things he did, happiness into the grief of losing someone. He made thieving freshly buried corpses to use their blood for paint look beautiful, he made himself look beautiful even with his shadows.

Tom found most things beautiful.

The structure of the building around him was beautiful, even if the plain metal welded together was not. Building something like this was an art, and Tom was an artist.

He understood how it fit together, and how to break it.

Harry is his next door neighbour, and sees the potential in Tom he’s been waiting for for years now. He knows he needs Tom, just as surely as he knows there has to be a way out of this godforsaken place

Thanks to the prison guards, by the way, putting the key to prison right next door to him.

"Hello there, neighbour."

Tom denied the squeak he made.

The cell next door to his was entirely plunged into darkness, leaving all he could see as simply a pair of green eyes, watching him.

"And what are your dastardly crimes?"

Tom stared at the green eyes, dumbfounded.

"You don't seem like the type to end up near me..." the person(?) purred.

Harry, on the other hand, is worse than Tom. Far worse. Serial killer, cannibal, and blackmailer, he is dangerous. He is the most dangerous person in this entire prison, and everyone knows it, deep in their bones. The guards know it, the government know it, the Queen knows it.

Tom hasn’t figured that out yet.

The guards often forget to feed Harry, and the lights in his cell haven’t been fixed for three years. Harry is rotting away, and he’s rarely allowed out of his small glass prison.

But there is always, always, a way out, and Harry will find it, no matter the cost.

Tom finally found his tongue. "What are the type?"

Green eyes laughed, a high-pitched, grating laugh that cut into Tom's brain. "Serial killers."

Tom huffed. "You kill one person," he began.

Green eyes blinked. "Just the one?"

"I'm an artist in everything I do, even-"

"Death." Green eyes finished. "The Artist of Death. Rather famous, even in the upper society."

"Would that be where you came from, then?"

"I trade in secrets, little Riddle, and that was not a secret."

Tom is terrified. He was not prepared for this.

Tom would love to put as much space as physically possible in between the sheet of bulletproof glass that separated him and the creepy fucker on the other side.

Tom may have been the Artist of Death, yes, but he was not, in any way, shape or form, the mysterious person green eyes expected him to be.

He walked down the streets day in day out, acting like any normal person would. He didn't lurk in the shadows, pulling strings. He had a job in IKEA, the whole 'Artist of Death' schtick was a side hobby.

He was also slightly terrified of the dark, but that was irrelevant.

Unfortunately for Tom, it appears he doesn’t have much of a choice...

FEY. FEY I LOVE YOU SO MUCH

#tomarry #writing #my writing #harry potter #tom riddle #ask response

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firefly464 · 4 years ago

Text

The Real World - Chapter 6

Ok I’m really curious to see what you guys think of this one. Let me or Pami know what potential theories you may have because thats always very interesting 👀.

Also I dunno if I’ve mentioned this before but constructive criticism is always welcomed and very much appreciated! I’m always looking to improve as a writer, and I’ve found that critiques

Made in collaboration with @i-have-this-now

Master Post

First - Previous - Next

~~~

Dream stepped into the small building that had been dedicated to peace negotiations. It wasn’t much other than a single room with a long table, but the tension inside could have been cut with a knife. On one side of the table sat George, Sapnap, Punz, and Eret. All four were tense, ready to attack at any moment. It was completely different from the joking, playful atmosphere that has surrounded them that morning. Sapnap glared at the masked man as he entered the building, likely considering just how many different ways he could strangle him. Dream was once more thankful for the mask covering his face, as he turned away with a grimace.

On the other side sat Tubbo and Fundy. The L’Manberg side of the table was filled with a very different atmosphere. They both wore expressions of very hesitant hope. Tubbo turned to Wilbur as he walked in, his eyes asking a silent question.

The older man gave a small nod, his face revealing nothing. A of disbelief spread over Tubbo’s face. “What's the catch?” he asked hesitantly, staring at the masked man for an answer.

A very small smile formed on Dreams face, although it was hidden to the younger boy. He shrugged, saying, “None. The Dream SMP surrenders to L’manberg.”

The skeptic look on Tubbo’s face only increases.

A low growl emerged from Sapnap’s throat. “Dream, you can’t do this,” he hissed sharply.

Dream ignored him, pulling the document from his bag. He rolled it out on the table. On the top of the document, in big, bold letters, read “Treaty of Surrender.” Under that, the words “By signing this document, the Dream SMP hereby recognizes L’manberg as its own, independent nation.” Below, in smaller print, was a list of different agreements. It wasn’t complex, mostly just outlining the basics of any peace treaty. But everyone knew what it meant.

A quill sat in a small inkwell on the table. With a steady hand, Dream picked it up, and signed the paper. He had nearly started to sign his actual name, but had managed to catch himself last minute. Setting the quill down, he glanced at the men sitting at either side of him. “I require that at least one of my own men signs this treaty as a witness,” he declared, staring them each in the eye individually.

The resulting silence was palpable. Not a single person stood, offering to sign the document. ‘They’re all too prideful. They don’t want to admit defeat,’ Dream thought as he looked at them.

2 to 3 minutes passed in silence. Then, something surprising happened. Eret stood, staring at the paper with a furrowed brow. “I’m still becoming king, right?” he asked.

Dream nodded. He had figured that Eret had been promised the position by the other Dream, so he had made sure to include it. “Of course.”

“Then I will sign.” In a swift motion, Eret signed the document and tossed the quill onto the table in front of Wilbur.

Dream sent his friend a relieved smile. “Thank you Eret. Now then. Wilbur, it is your turn to sign.”

Wilbur quickly read over the terms of surrender and signed the document, Tommy signing as well as witness.

The entire room seemed to hold its breath as the quill scratched against the paper. It felt like the entire world had let out a huge sigh of relief the moment Tommy picked the quill back up. Dream smiled and rolled up the document. “Well then. The treaty shall be kept in here for safe keeping. You guys are good to go if you want,” he said, trying his best to sound official and important sounding.

Apparently it worked. Tubbo stared at where the document had been sitting moments before. In a soft tone, he whispered, “we did it…”

Wilbur placed a hand on Tubbo’s shoulder, and very quietly replied “Yeah. We did it”

~~~

Dream watched as Tommy, Wilbur, Fundy, and Tubbo all left the small building. He had been hoping to leave as well, but one look at the people around him told him that wasn’t going to be an option. He gulped nervously.

The moment that the L’manberg soldiers were out of view, Sapnap was on his feat, sword in hand. He stormed over to Dream, pinning him to the wall, blade across his neck. His face was twisted with anger and rage. “You son of a bitch what the hell was that about?! What the fuck were you thinking?!?!”

“I have my reasons Sapnap,” Dream choked out. It was the second time in 24 hours that someone had held a sword to his neck, and it wasn’t a trend that he particularly enjoyed. Hopefully, it was a trend that wasn’t going to continue.

“Bullshit! You swore to me that you were going to win this war! Not that you were going to fucking surrender!” He cried, pressing the blade into Dreams skin. Small beads of blood started to form where metal met skin. “We had them! We fucking had them and you went and threw it away like a coward!”

“I didn’t realize that letting people live was such a crime Sapnap!” Dream shouted back. “I didn’t fucking realize that it was illegal to feel pity or sympathy!”

His friend stared at him, before putting even more pressure against the blade. Dream was starting to panic slightly “I didn’t follow you to be lectured on granting mercy, Dream. I followed you because you swore you would win.” he took a step back, allowing Dream to fall to the ground at his feet.

Dream coughed several times, trying to recover from his windpipe being crushed. He pounded a fist to his chest, trying to clear his airway. When he looked up at Sapnap, he was greeted only with a kick to the chest, sending him sprawling across the floor. The mask, so carefully fixed by someone he had thought of as a friend, had flown across the room. Dream didn’t care. He wanted that mask gone.

He lay there on the ground for a minute, trying to desperately catch his breath. “Wh-why…?” he asked, the words coming out as desperate gasps for air.

“Heh. Never thought I would see the day when the great Dream lay at my feet, begging for mercy. Oh how the mighty have fallen,” Sapnap said with a chuckle. He turned towards the door. “I’m leaving. If you have any need of me again, you know where to find me. Just next time, I expect some actual fucking results.”

George walked around the long table as Sapnap left, looking at his friend in concern. Eret and Punz had already left, leaving just the two of them. “I really hope you have a plan,” he said. His eyes were full of pity as he walked away, leaving the gasping man alone on the floor.

~~~

“Dude, are you serious?” It was late at night, around midnight. Dream and Tommy were back at the training grounds, each trying to learn how to fight. Of course, they didn’t exactly have anyone to teach them, so they were both just practicing basic moves that Dream had seen George use. The results were… varied, to say the least.

As they spared, Dream had told Tommy what had happened earlier that day after the conference. “I mean, I knew Sapnap was a little bitch, but I didn’t realize he was that much of a dick here”

Dream shrugged. “He used to joke that he was like a mercenary, and only in it for the money. Guess that it’s less of a joke here.”

“I feel like anything that was jokingly on stream held some sliver of truth here. Including everyone’s personalities,” Tommy chuckled as he blocked a strike “that’s probably why no one trusts me here. I kinda acted like a complete idiot on stream”

“You still do.”

“Oh haha. At least I wasn’t a fucking psychopath”

Dream shook his head “I still don’t get why I was apparently so scary…”

“You literally sent us a voice clip saying that you would burn L’manberg to the ground if we didn’t surrender”

Dream let out a sigh “yeah… Yeah I suppose I did”

Sensing the sudden mood shift, Tommy quickly tried his best to change the subject. “So… What about George? Is he any different from back home?”

“George is…” Dream’s voice trailed off as he thought, trying to figure out how to put his thoughts into words.

“George is no different from how he’s always been,” said the man in question as he stepped out of the shadows. For the third time that day, Dream found himself with the blade of a netherite sword against his throat. “Now then. Would either of you care to explain who the hell you are and what you’re doing here?”

Tommy dropped his wooden training sword and raised his hands into the air, trying to look as harmless as possible. “George, how much… How much did you hear?” He asked, keeping his voice calm, despite the fact that he wanted to scream.

George shifted the blade so that it was now pointed at the teenagers throat, shutting him up rather quickly. “I heard enough to know that neither of you are who you say you are. What the fuck is going on?”

Dream took a small step towards his friend, his hands up as well “Look, we’re still Tommy and Dream, I promise.” He knew that he couldn’t try to lie his way out of this one. To be honest, their best option was probably to tell the truth and hope George could keep his mouth shut.

“Exactly!” Tommy chimed in, trying to be helpful. Dream glared at him.

“Please. I’m not an idiot. I knew something was wrong from the moment you shot Tommy during the duel. The real Dream never would have taken off his mask, much less show any sort of regret,” George said, stepping forward so that his blade rested against Dream’s neck, in the exact same spot Sapnap had cut earlier.

“I’m still Dream, I swear! Just because I’m not fucking insane doesn’t mean I’m a different person!”

“Maybe, but the real Dream would know how to fight. He wouldn’t be flailing around with a sword like a chicken with its head cut off.”

Tommy snorted “He’s got you there. You do look really stupid.”

Dream made a choking sound in surprise “I- You look just as dumb!”

“Maybe, but at least I’m not supposed to be the world's greatest swordsman”

“As a child, your opinion is automatically invalid”

“As a child, I automatically don’t give a shit.”

George’s eyes darted between the two, as if he were watching an intense tennis match. “Enough!” he finally yelled, shutting them both up pretty quickly. “All I want are some fucking answers!” He pressed his sword more against Dreams throat, opening the thin cut and allowing a small trickle of blood to form.

Dream gulped and looked at Tommy. Normally he would have taken control of the situation himself, but he didn’t exactly trust himself to not anger his friend.

Tommy nodded, and started to explain their story. He told George how the two of them had suddenly been transported from their home to the SMP world. He explained how neither of them knew what was going on, or why they couldn’t leave. He even explained how back home, everyone had been friends. The war had been nothing more than a game, a show that they had put on for the sake of entertainment. As he spoke about his own home, he could feel tears start to pool up inside his eyes. He hastily tried to wipe them away, but it didn’t matter. George had already seen.

The man lowered his sword, not once taking his eyes off either of them. “So you’re telling me that you come from a world where all of this,” he gestured around him towards the world as he spoke, “is completely fake.”

“Yeah, that sums it up pretty well,” Tommy replied, rubbing the red scar on his neck. It was a nervous habit that he had quickly picked up from Wilbur, despite the fact that he hadn’t even been there when he had received the scar.

Dream stumbled back, using his jacket sleeve to try and stop the stream of blood from his neck. There was already a dark stain on the cuff from earlier that day. God, he was going to get a lasting scar if this continued. “We just want to get home,” He told George, “I promise, we don’t mean anyone any harm.”

George pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. “You both do realize how unbelievable this all sounds, right?”

“Yeah, we know”

“I really don’t want to believe you… But this explains so much. Is that why you trashed your base?”

“I told you I was feeling stressed. I just may have failed to mention what exactly I was stressed about”

“I knew you weren’t feeling well… I just didn’t realize it was because of something like this. That's why neither of you know how to fight anymore, isn’t it?”

Tommy shrugged “Sword fighting isn’t exactly a common sport in our world. I’ve never even touched a real sword before this week.”

“Oh my god… Does anyone else know?” George asked.

Dream looked over at Tommy, silently asking a question. Tommy shook his head “The only person who knows something is wrong is Tubbo, and he thinks I just have amnesia from a weird enchantment or something.”

“Are you serious? I thought we agreed not to tell anyone!”

“This was before I even knew you were here! How else was I supposed to get any information? Besides, Tubbo’s my bro. I trust him not to tell anyone.”

“What about Wilbur…? Does he know?” George asked, his brow furrowed in thought.

“Nope. I mean, he clearly knows that something is up, but other than that he has no idea.”

“That doesn’t seem right… Wilbur should know that his second in command is missing.”

Tommy cried out in outrage, “What do you mean? I’m right here!”

“He means the other you. You know, the one that actually lived here?” Dream said calmly.

“Exactly. That other Tommy is currently missing. Who knows where he could be. Wilbur deserves to know.”

Tommy let out a groan of annoyance “ughhhh fine! I’ll tell him tomorrow. 10 bucks he isn’t going to believe me.”

“No way am I losing 10 bucks like that,” Dream replied.

“Killjoy,” The teenager muttered.

George was once more watching them both with confusion. He looked down at his feet, trying to weigh his options. That’s when he noticed the discarded training swords. An idea sprang into his head. “What if I tried to teach you both sword fighting? I’m not the best, but the other Dream taught me, and he was the best of the best.”

Dream grimaced. Just another reminder that he was just an imposter. Still, he forced himself to nod. “That would be good. Thanks.”

~~~

“Please, I just want to go home…” Tommy said into the phone. It had taken a bit of work to convince Wilbur and Tubbo that he wasn’t insane and definitely knew what a phone was, but they had eventually caved.

Wilbur hadn’t wanted to question his younger friend after who knows what had happened to him. It would have just stressed him out and made everyone more upset. So he had allowed Tommy to borrow his phone to call Dream. Now, him and Tubbo were sat at the table in Tommy’s backyard, hearing only snippets of the one-sided conversation.

“What do you mean? Why not?! I won’t do anything I promise!” A couple seconds of silence. Tommy’s face went slack in shock. “You can’t be serious. No, no no no you’re joking, aren’t you. Y-you wouldn’t dare.” More silence. “Fine! I won’t, I swear! Just please don’t do it.”

Wilbur watched the conversation with concern. He could hear Tommy’s raised voice from where he was sitting, and what he was hearing was definitely good cause for concern. He glanced at Tubbo, who looked just as worried.

“Yeah. Yeah, I will. Bye.” A long, drawn out tone sounded from the speaker. Tommy sighed and walked back over to Wilbur and Tubbo, trying his best to hide his tears. It didn’t work.

Tubbo was instantly on alert, trying to check on his friend. “Hey man, are you ok?” He made sure not to get too close after getting hit in the jaw.

“Y-yeah. Yeah I’m good. Just… just a bit in shock still. A lot has happened in the past week…”

“You want to talk about it?” Wilbur asked gently.

Tommy shook his head violently “No. No I really don’t. Don’t worry guys, I’ll be fine. Thanks”

~~~

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ordinaryschmuck · 4 years ago

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What I Thought About Loki (Season One)

(Sorry this is later than it should have been. I may or may not be experiencing burnout from reviewing every episode of the gayest show Disney has ever produced)

Salutations, random people on the internet. I am an Ordinary Schmuck. I write stories and reviews and draw comics and cartoons.

Do you want to know what's fun about the Marvel Cinematic Universe? It is now officially at the point where the writers can do whatever the hell they want.

A TV series about two Avengers getting stuck in a series of sitcoms as one of them explores their personal grief? Sure.

Another series as a guy with metal bird wings fights the inner racism of his nation to take the mantel of representing the idea of what that nation should be? Why not?

A forgettable movie about a superspy and her much more mildly entertaining pretend family working together to kill the Godfather? F**king go for it (Let that be a taste for my Black Widow review in October)!

There is no limit to what you can get with these movies and shows anymore, and I personally consider that a good thing. It allows this franchise to lean further into creative insanity, thus embracing its comic roots in the process. Take Loki, for example. It is a series about an alternate version of one of Marvel's best villains bouncing around the timeline with Owen Wilson to prevent the end of the universe. It sounds like just the right amount of wackiness that it should be too good to fail.

But that's today's question: Did it fail? To find out my own answer to that, we're gonna have to dive deep into spoilers. So be wary as you continue reading.

With that said, let's review, shall we?

WHAT I LIKED

Loki Himself: Let's get this out of the way: This isn't the same Loki we've seen grow within five movies. The Loki in this series, while similar in many ways, is still his very own character. He goes through his own redemption and developments that fleshes out Loki, all through ways that, if I'm being honest with you, is done much better in six-hour-long episodes than in past films. Loki's story was already entertaining, but he didn't really grow that much aside from being this chaotic neutral character instead of this wickedly evil supervillain. Through his series, we get to see a gradual change in his personality, witnessing him understand his true nature and "glorious purpose," to the point where he's already this completely different person after one season. Large in part because of the position he's forced into.

Some fans might say that the series is less about Loki and more about the TVA. And while I can unquestionably see their point, I still believe that the TVA is the perfect way for Loki to grow. He's a character all about causing chaos and controlling others, so forcing him to work for an organization that takes that away allows Loki time to really do some introspection. Because if his tricks don't work, and his deceptions can't fool others, then who is he? Well, through this series, we see who he truly is: A character who is alone and is intended to be nothing more than a villain whose only truly selfless act got him killed in the end. Even if he wants to better himself, he can't because that "goes against the sacred timeline." Loki is a person who is destined to fail, and he gets to see it all with his own eyes by looking at what his life was meant to be and by observing what it could have been. It's all tragic and yet another example of these shows proving how they allow underdeveloped characters in the MCU a better chance to shine. Because if Loki can give even more depth to a character who's already compelling as is, then that is a feat worth admiration.

The Score: Let's give our gratitude toward Natalie Holt, who f**king killed it with this series score. Every piece she made is nothing short of glorious. Sylvie's and the TVA's themes particularly stand out, as they perfectly capture who/what they're representing. Such as how Sylvie's is big and boisterous where the TVA's sound eerie and almost unnatural. Holt also finds genius ways to implement other scores into the series, from using familiar tracks from the Thor movies to even rescoring "Ride of the Valkyries" in a way that makes a scene even more epic than it already could have been. The MCU isn't best known for its musical scores, partly because they aim to be suitable rather than memorable. But every now and again, something as spectacular as the Loki soundtrack sprinkles through the cracks of mediocrity. Making fans all the more grateful because of it.

There’s a lot of Talking: To some, this will be considered a complaint. Most fans of the MCU come for the action, comedy, and insanely lovable characters. Not so much for the dialogue and exposition. That being said, I consider all of the talking to be one of Loki's best features. All the background information about the TVA added with the character's backstories fascinates me, making me enthusiastic about learning more. Not everyone else will be as interested in lore and world-building as others, but just because something doesn't grab you, in particular, doesn't mean it isn't appealing at all. Case in point: There's a reason why the Five Nights at Freddy's franchise has lasted as long as it has, and it's not entirely because of how "scary" it is.

There's also the fact that most of the dialogue in Loki is highly engaging. I'll admit, some scenes do drag a bit. However, every line is delivered so well that I'm more likely to hang on to every word when characters simply have honest conversations with each other. And if I can be entertained by Loki talking with Morbius about jetskis, then I know a show is doing at least something right.

It’s Funny: This shouldn't be a surprise. The MCU is well-known for its quippy humor in the direct acknowledgment that it doesn't take itself too seriously. With that said, it is clear which movies and shows are intended to be taken seriously, while others are meant to be comedies. Loki tries to be a bit of both. There are some heavy scenes that impact the characters, and probably even some fans, due to how well-acted and professionally written they can be. However, this is also a series about a Norse god traveling through time to deal with alternate versions of himself, with one of them being an alligator. I'd personally consider it a crime against storytelling to not make it funny. Thankfully, the writers aren't idiots and know to make the series fun with a few flawlessly timed and delivered jokes that never really take away from the few good grim moments that actually work.

It Kept Me Surprised: About everything I appreciate about Loki, the fact that I could never really tell what direction it was going is what I consider its absolute best feature. Every time I think I knew what was going to happen, there was always this one big twist that heavily subverted any and every one of my expectations. Such as how each time I thought I knew who the big bad was in this series, it turns out that there was an even worse threat built up in the background. The best part is that these twists aren't meant for shock value. It's always supposed to drive the story forward, and on a rewatch, you can always tell how the seeds have been planted for making each surprise work. It's good that it kept fans guessing, as being predictable and expected would probably be the worst path to take when making a series about Loki, a character who's all about trickery and deception. So bonus points for being in line with the character.

The TVA: You can complain all you want about how the show is more about the TVA than it is Loki, but you can't deny how the organization in question is a solid addition to the MCU. Initially, it was entertaining to see Loki of all characters be taken aback by how the whole process works. And it was worth a chuckle seeing Infinity Stones, the most powerful objects in the universe, get treated as paperweights. However, as the season continues and we learn about the TVA, the writers show that their intention is to try and write a message about freedom vs. control. We've seen this before in movies like Captain America: The Winter Soldier or Captain America: Civil War, but with those films, it always felt like the writers were leaning more towards one answer instead of making it obscure over which decision is correct. This is why I enjoy the fact that Loki went on saying that there really is no right answer for this scenario. If the TVA doesn't prune variants, it could result in utter chaos and destruction that no one from any timeline can prepare themselves for. But when they do prune variants along with their timelines, it takes away all free will, forcing people to be someone they probably don't even want to be. It's a situation where there really is no middle ground. Even if you bring up how people could erase timelines more destructive than others, that still takes away free will on top of how there's no unbiased way of deciding which timelines are better or worse. And the series found a brilliant way to explain this moral: The season starts by showing how the TVA is necessary, to later point out how there are flaws and evil secrets within it, and ends things with the revelation that there are consequences without the TVA keeping the timeline in check. It's an epic showcase of fantastic ideas met with exquisite execution that I can't help but give my seal of approval to.

Miss Minutes: Not much to say. This was just a cute character, and I love that Tara Strong, one of the most popular voice actors, basically plays a role in the MCU now.

Justifying Avengers: Endgame: Smartest. Decision. This series. Made. Bar none.

Because when you establish that the main plot is about a character getting arrested for f**king over the timeline, you're immediately going to get people questioning, "Why do the Avengers get off scot-free?" So by quickly explaining how their time-traveling antics were supposed to happen, it negates every one of those complaints...or most of them. There are probably still a-holes who are poking holes in that logic, but they're not the ones writing this review, so f**k them.

Mobius: I didn't really expect Owen Wilson to do that good of a job in Loki. Primarily due to how the Cars franchise discredits him as a professional actor for...forever. With that said, Owen Wilson's Mobius might just be one of the most entertaining characters in the series. Yes, even more so than Loki himself. Mobius acts as the perfect straight man to Loki's antics, what with being so familiar with the supposed god of mischief through past variations of him. Because of that, it's always a blast seeing these two bounce off one another through Loki trying to trick a Loki expert, and said expert even deceiving Loki at times. Also, on his own, Mobius is still pretty fun. He has this sort of witty energy that's often present in Phil Coulson (Love that character too, BTW), but thanks to Owen Wilson's quirks in his acting, there's a lot more energy to Mobius than one would find in Coulson. As well as a tad bit of tragedy because of Mobius being a variant and having no clue what his life used to be. It's a lot to unpack and is impressively written, added to how it's Owen Wilson who helps make the character work as well as he did. Cars may not have done much for his career, but Loki sure as hell showed his strengths.

Ravonna Renslayer: Probably the least entertaining character, but definitely one of the most intriguing. At least to me.

Ravonna is a character who is so steadfast in her believes that she refuses to accept that she may be wrong. Without the proper writing, someone like Ravonna could tick off (ha) certain people. Personally, I believe that Ravonna is written well enough where even though I disagree with her belief, I can understand where she's coming from. She's done so much for the TVA, bringing an end to so many variants and timelines that she can't accept that it was all for nothing. In short, Ravonna represents the control side of the freedom vs. control theme that the writers are pushing. Her presence is necessary while still being an appealing character instead of a plot device. Again, at least to me.

Hunter B-15: I have no strong feelings one way or another towards B-15's personality, but I will admit that I love the expectation-subversion done with her. She has this air of someone who's like, "I'm this by-the-books badass cop, and I will only warm up to this cocky rookie after several instances of them proving themselves." That's...technically not B-15. She's the first to see Loki isn't that bad, but only because B-15 is the first in the main cast to learn the hidden vile present in the TVA. It makes her change in point of view more believable than how writers usually work a character like hers, on top of adding a new type of engaging motivation for why she fights. I may not particularly enjoy her personality, but I do love her contributions.

Loki Watching What His Life Could Have Been: This was a brilliant decision by the writers. It's basically having Loki speedrun his own character development through witnessing what he could have gone through and seeing the person he's meant to be, providing a decent explanation for why he decides to work for the TVA. And on the plus side, Tom Hiddleston did a fantastic job at portraying the right emotions the character would have through a moment like this. Such as grief, tearful mirth, and borderline shock and horror. It's a scene that no other character could go through, as no one but Loki needed a wake-up call for who he truly is. This series might heavily focus on the TVA, but scenes like this prove just who's the star of the show.

Loki Causing Mischief in Pompeii: I just really love this scene. It's so chaotic and hilarious, all heavily carried by the fact that you can tell that Tom Hiddleston is having the time of his damn life being this character. What more can I say about it.

Sylvie: The first of many surprises this season offered, and boy was she a great one.

Despite being an alternate version of Loki, I do appreciate that Sylvie's her own character and not just "Loki, but with boobs." She still has the charm and charisma, but she also comes across as more hardened and intelligent when compared to the mischievous prick we've grown to love. A large part of that is due to her backstory, which might just be the most tragic one these movies and shows have ever made. Sylvie got taken away when she was a little girl, losing everything she knew and loved, and it was all for something that the people who arrested her don't even remember. How sad is that? The fact that her life got permanently screwed over, leaving zero impact on the people responsible for it. As badass as it is to hear her say she grew up at the ends of a thousand worlds (that's an album title if I ever heard one), it really is depressing to know what she went through. It also makes her the perfect candidate to represent the freedom side of the freedom vs. control argument. Because she's absolutely going to want to fight to put an end to the people who decide how the lives of trillions should be. Those same people took everything from Sylvie, and if I were in her position, I'd probably do the same thing. Of course, we all know the consequences that come from this, and people might criticize Sylvie the same way they complain about Thor and Star Lord for screwing over the universe in Avengers: Infinity War. But here's the thing: Sylvie's goals are driven by vengeance, which can blind people from any other alternatives. Meaning her killing He Who Remains is less of a story flaw and more of a character flaw. It may be a bad decision, but that's for Season Two Sylvie to figure out. For now, I'll just appreciate the well-written and highly compelling character we got this season and eagerly wait as we see what happens next with her.

The Oneshot in Episode Three: Not as epic as the hallway scene in Daredevil, but I do find it impressive that it tries to combine real effects, fighting, and CGI in a way where it's all convincing enough.

Lady Sif Kicking Loki in the D**k: This is a scene that makes me realize why I love this series. At first, I laugh at Loki being stuck in a time loop where Lady Sif kicks him in the d**k over and over again. But a few scenes later, this setup actually works as a character moment that explains why Loki does the things he does.

This series crafted phenomenal character development through Loki getting kicked in the d**k by the most underrated badass of the Marvel Cinematic Universe. It's a perfect balance of comedy and drama that not every story can nail, yet Loki seemed like it did with very little effort.

Classic Loki: This variant shows the true tragedy of being Loki. The only way to survive is to live in isolation, far away from everything and everyone he loves, only to end up having his one good deed result in his death anyways. Classic Loki is definitive proof that no matter what face they have, Lokis never gets happy endings. They're destined to lose, but at least this version knows that if you're going out, you're going out big. And at least he got to go out with a mischievous laugh.

(Plus, the fact that he's wearing Loki's first costume from the comics is a pretty cute callback).

Alligator Loki: Alligator Loki is surprisingly adorable, and if you know me, you know that I can't resist cute s**t. It's not in my nature.

Loki on Loki Violence: If you thought Loki going ham in Pompeii was chaotic, that was nothing to this scene. Because watching these Lokis backstab one another, to full-on murdering each other, is a moment that is best described as pure, unadulterated chaos. And I. Loved. Every. Second of it.

The Opening Logo for the Season Finale: I'm still not that big of a fan of the opening fanfare playing for each episode, but I will admit that it was a cool feature to play vocal clips of famous quotes when the corresponding character appears. It's a great way of showing the chaos of how the "sacred timeline" works without having it to be explained further.

The Citadel: I adore the set design of the Citadel. So much history and backstory shine through the state of every room the characters walk into. You get a perfect picture of what exactly happened, but seeing how ninety percent of the place is in shambles, it's pretty evident that not everything turned out peachy keen. And as a personal note, my favorite aspect of the Citadel is the yellow cracks in the walls. It looks as though reality itself is cracking apart, which is pretty fitting when considering where the Citadel actually is.

He Who Remains: This man. I. Love. This man.

I love this man for two reasons.

A. He's a ton of fun. Credit to that goes to the performance delivered by Jonathon Majors. Not only is it apparent that Majors is having a blast, but he does a great job at conveying how He Who Remains is a strategic individual but is still very much off his rocker. These villains are always my favorite due to how much of a blast it is seeing someone with high intelligence just embracing their own insanity. If you ask me, personalities are always essential for villains. Because even when they have the generic plot to rule everything around them, you're at least going to remember who they are for how entertaining they were. Thankfully He Who Remains has that entertainment value, as it makes me really excited for his eventual return, whether it'd be strictly through Loki Season Two or perhaps future movies.

And B. He Who Remains is a fantastic foil for Loki. He Who Remains is everything Loki wishes he could have been, causing so much death, destruction, and chaos to the multiverse. The important factor is that he does it all through order and control. The one thing Loki despises, and He Who Remains uses it to his advantage. I feel like that's what makes him the perfect antagonist to Loki, thanks to him winning the game by not playing it. I would love it if He Who Remains makes further appearances in future movies and shows, especially given how he's hinted to be Kane the Conqueror, but if he's only the main antagonist in Loki, I'm still all for it. He was a great character in his short time on screen, and I can't wait to see what happens next with him.

WHAT I DISLIKED

Revealing that Loki was D.B. Cooper: A cute scene, but it's really unnecessary. It adds nothing to the plot, and I feel like if it was cut out entirely, it wouldn't have been the end of the world...Yeah. That's it.

That's my one and only complaint about this season.

Maybe some scenes drag a bit, and I guess Episode Three is kind of the weakest, but there's not really anything that this series does poorly that warrants an in-depth complaint.

Nope.

Nothing at all...

…

...

...I'm not touching that "controversy" of Loki falling for Sylvie instead of Mobius. That's a situation where there are no winners.

Only losers.

Exclusively losers.

Other than that, this season was amazing!

IN CONCLUSION

I'd give the first season of Loki a well-earned A, with a 9.5 through my usual MCU ranking system. It turns out, it really is the best type of wackiness that was just too good to fail. The characters are fun and likable, the comedy and drama worked excellently, and the expansive world-building made me really intrigued with the more we learned. It's hard to say if Season Two will keep this momentum, but that's for the future to figure out. For now, let's just sit back and enjoy the chaos.

(Now, if you don't excuse me, I have to figure out how to review Marvel's What If...)

#marvel cinematic universe #mcu reviews #loki tv series #loki #sylvie #mobius #ravonna renslayer #hunter b 15 #classic loki #alligator loki #he who remains #kang the conqueror #what i thought about

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stephic-writings · 4 years ago

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The Greatest Game -- Felix x Sylvain (Round One)

Oh hey! Is this me writing a fanfic finally? Gasp! Is this me writing a Fire Emblem Three Houses fic too? Gasp again!

I’ve actually been sitting on this fic for awhile now, but I revisited it pretty recently! And what’s more is that the amount of stuff that I want to include with it means that it’s a chapter-based fic, something that I don’t do very often. Whoa! I’m excited to work on this in between things, as I’ve missed having a cooldown writing or just a fanfic to work on in between my work. I hope you guys enjoy it too! I miss writing romantic comedies~

Especially when I get to write tsunderes. Felix is the best tsundere archetype, and I love it.

WARNINGS: Sexual Tension, Idiots Being Idiots, Probably Some Naughty Stuff Later On Ships: Sylvain Jose Gautier/Felix Hugo Fraldarius Chapter Word Count: 2198

Read on AO3 too!

It was always a game to him. A competition. A hunt. The hunter would find its prey, stalk it down, and wait until it exhausted itself. And when it was weak and vulnerable, the hunter -- predator – would strike. To the prey, it was all but a brief flash before it was all over from there and their once pleasant life was spiraled into chaos. But to the hunter, it was a thrilling game. The adrenaline caused by the sensation of a successful hunt was enough to send a shiver down his spine. He engrossed himself in such behavior until he devolved into an intoxicated beast who was only sated by the hunt.

And it was what disgusted Felix about Sylvain. He assumed this kind of hunter/hunted mentality would come from the boar himself, but no. Even Dmitri was reasonable enough to put a damn muzzle on himself to calm down even after war broke out, especially whenever their childhood professor was involved. That red-headed menace, however, was a far different story. Uncontrollable, unsated even after five years of potential maturity that seemed to skip over him completely, Sylvain found himself less interested in the art of war and more in the art of seduction -- the hunt. Many warriors wished to be as skillful at combat as Sylvain was at charming women, for it truly was a feat – a talent once could say.

Not that Felix would outright say it. To Felix, Sylvain was nothing more than a degenerate heathen who needed a goddamn reality check. Seducing women was not something to take pride in, because obviously those women needed much more training in resisting emotional manipulation. Sharpen your mind like any blade, and you could see through such fiendish tactics that a dog like Sylvain would use.

Instead of chasing skirts, Sylvain should have been taking his training more seriously, for it took Felix approximately two seconds in one solid movement to knock him down. A simple sweep of the leg, a hilt to the correct pressure point on the back of the neck, and Sylvain was groaning on the ground with Felix’s foot pressed on that thick skull of his.

“…You’re dead. Again.”

“Aw, come on. There was a fly distracting me that time.” Sylvain grunted as Felix stepped off him. His hair was even more tossed around as he sat up, fresh dirt on his cheek and tunic as he gave an annoyed frown. “I feel like you’re just purposely ‘killing’ me in these combat scenarios now.”

“Of course I am, you idiot. Every enemy out there is trying to ‘purposely’ kill you, so you better get your act together.” Felix made his way to the weapon’s rack, tossing aside his training sword amidst the pile of worn-down wood. Lately, he would wear down these training blades faster than he anticipated. Every time he’d do a sparring session with his red-headed companion, he’d go through at least three of them. Oh well… Another blade, for another round. “One more time.”

“Really?! We’ve already gone at least five rounds.”

“Are you saying that you have endurance in the bedroom but not in a fight? That speaks wonders about your endurance as a whole…”

Sylvain jerked his head away to hide the little bit of tarnished pride he had before he finally managed to get himself to his feet again. He could feel his knees shake from all the bruises he’s gotten on them. Felix always did think it was funny to go for the knees. “You really know how to wound me, Felix. My body, my ego. Are you angry at me or something? Is this about what happened last night? I mean, I already said I was sorry.”

“Sorry won’t change the fact that I found you broke into my room and fell on me with the scullery maid.”

“…Okay, I admit. That was a pretty bad situation. But it was dark, and your room looked just like mine from a darkened perspective-“

“I don’t need any more excuses, Sylvain.” Felix’s eyes furrowed at his red-headed combatant, hand gripping tight to the new training sword as he wandered his way towards one of the training dummies. “Chasing women and flirting your way into people’s hearts won’t help you survive out there on the battlefield. What do you plan on doing when you’re faced with a great enemy? Wink at them and ask them to dinner?”

Sylvain paused for a moment before a smirk crept onto his face. “Well, if it works, it works.”

“Sylvain.”

“What? Why are you even bringing all this up? Don’t tell me you’re getting jealous, Felix.”

The swordsman let out a scoff, blowing his bangs from his eyes as he wipes away the sweat from his neck. Or at least, Felix told himself that. He had to place his hand over the vein on his neck that throbbed in annoyance at the mention of Felix’s jealousy. Felix was not jealous of Sylvain. This dumb oaf was full of himself if he even thought that. And Felix didn’t even need to say a single word to express how ridiculous the idea was as he turned to Sylvain, brown eyes piercing daggers into the red-haired man.

The expression prompted Sylvain to sigh as he threw his arms out to the side in frustration. “What do you expect me to do? I’m not some war machine like you or Dmitri. Hell, if I had it my way, I’d say we talk to Edelgard, take her out to a nice dinner, and let her and Dmitri talk things out under a candlelit moonlight.”

“That sounds ridiculous and delusional.”

“Then what’s your big plan?” As Felix hacked away at the stuffed hay figure, Sylvain made his way over, leaning against the unclaimed training dummy nearby. His eyes lazily watched Felix, seeing that the aggression in his eyes were tainted by a hint of annoyance and a desperate need to distract himself from something. Sylvain arched an eyebrow in thought. “Don’t tell me you haven’t thought of one. Does that mean we’re just going to waltz up to the front gates of the Empire and kill every last one of them?”

“If that’s what we have to do, then yes.”

“What kind of plan is that? At least my idea has some diplomacy involved.”

With Felix’s next swing, the training sword had found itself lodged into the mannequin with his powerful Felix’s strike. Sylvain’s eyes widened, feeling a bit of cold sweat beat down as Felix let go of the sword and glared at Sylvain.

Sylvain’s expression relaxed slightly as he noticed Felix’s demeanor change. Yes, he was still as irritated as ever, but he stepped up to Sylvain to get in his face. Sylvain couldn’t help but chuckle. Even after five years, Felix was still shorter than he was. It made Felix’s attempt to size him up all the less intimidating. Good, for it was enough for Sylvain to stand his guard, looking down to Felix as he observed the very distinct scowl wrinkles under his eyes and on his brows. Sylvain tilted his head, a smile curling at the corners of his mouth as he leaned closer to listen to Felix’s snarls.

“Seduction is not diplomacy. And I know for a damn fact that it won’t win you any battles, Sylvain. So rely on your manipulation tactics all that you like. Just know that it will get you killed in the end.”

“You think that I can’t charm my way to a win?”

“I know you can’t.”

“Then how about we bet on it?”

Felix’s eyes narrowed at Sylvain’s words, just as the red-head predicted. As expected, Felix could never turn down a challenge -- especially not one against Sylvain. It was only confirmed officially when Felix crossed his arms and quizzically muttered under his breath. “What kind of bet?”

“It’s simple. You’re saying that I can’t take down someone with just my charm alone, right?”

“I’m saying it will get you killed.”

“And let’s say I don’t get killed… Then I win the battle, right?”

Felix didn’t outwardly admit it, but the look in his eye let Sylvain know that he had a point. “Get on with it.”

“I’m betting that I can win a fight with just my charm alone. I won’t make any swings or dirty blows. Instead, I’ll use all of my hard-learned skills as a romantic to take down my greatest opponent.”

“Greatest opponent, huh?” Felix unfolded his arms, resting them on his sides as he challenged Sylvain with his stature. “And who would that be? Ingrid? Mercedes? The head chef?”

“ You.”

For someone as guarded as Felix was, his eyes widened when he processed Sylvain’s words. A challenge of charm alone… To take down Sylvain’s greatest opponent, Felix himself. He must have been joking? What kind of idiot was he? A serious one, Felix realized. For when his eyes looked away to process the notion, they returned back to a sultry gaze -- one that was much closer than Felix had recalled just mere seconds ago. The swordsman grit his teeth, reaching out and planting his palm firmly against Sylvain’s face as he pushed him away. “Stop fooling around. Your jokes aren’t funny.”

“You think I’m joking?”

Felix wasn’t expected for Sylvain to take his wrist in response. Rather than a firm jerk that he was expected, the swordsman found himself guided back towards the cavalier. Felix stared in disbelief, an arm around his waist that kept him back in his place as Sylvain very gently caressed the swordsman’s calloused fingers. He didn’t know how to react to the red-haired man’s gesture like this. Instead, he was left in the hold with eyebrows furrowed and body temporarily stunned.

Sylvain grinned back at him. “If I can seduce you in two weeks time, then I win. If I can’t, then you win. How’s that sound?”

“You? Seduce me?” Felix gawked, jerking his hand back but still remaining in Sylvain’s embrace. “Have you grown bored of your usual prey?”

“I wouldn’t say that. But you’re sounding a lot like you’re backing away from a challenge, Felix. What? Think you’d lose?”

“N-Nonsense.” Felix’s attention broke from Sylvain’s eyes as he felt fingers brush just underneath the hem of his shirt. He couldn’t help but make a face at the sensation. Of course Sylvain’s fingers would be cold… Felix forced his attention back to Sylvain again, this time with an expression far more serious. “If I accept this challenge from you, you nor I would be losing anything from it. A bet has to have something at stake for it to be worth taking.”

“I guess you’re right…”

Sylvain’s gaze softened in thought before he loosened his hold around Felix. But just before he could step away, a hand shot out, latching onto Sylvain’s forearm and keeping him there. Felix’s gaze didn’t focus on the brown pair that looked at him in surprise. “If I win, then you’ll cease your fraternizing once and for all and focus on your training more. I’m not going to let you flake out and die on me out there, got it?”

A chuckle came from the red-head as he stepped back to Felix. “I hear you, I hear you. Have to keep my promise and everything, right?” Felix was quiet, only causing Sylvain to let out a small sigh as he looked at Felix with a gentle smile. The bet wasn’t even on, and already Sylvain wanted to lay on the charm. How could anyone resist a grumpy face like that? “If I win though… You have to do whatever I tell you to do. One thing. That’s all.”

“Knowing you, you’d weasel your way around it. Saying that you want me to do ‘anything you want.’” Felix gripped the front of Sylvain’s tunic, pulling him down to his height as he glared. “You won’t win against me, Sylvain.”

“You’re sounding awfully confident there, Felix.” Sylvain grinned at the swordsmen, who only returned an irritated expression back. “This isn’t a battle of swords anymore, so I hope you’re ready to be disarmed by me.”

A grunt was all that Felix could retort with as he tossed Sylvain’s tunic forward to get the other man from him. Felix was the one that sounded confident? Sylvain was over there talking big when the bet hadn’t even started yet. That kind of arrogance just made Felix want to win even more. The swordsman went back to the bench, picking up his coat before he made his way towards the exit of the training grounds. Felix wouldn’t drop his guard for a degenerate like Sylvain. He always won in their competitions before, he would continue to do so -- no matter how confident Sylvain was in himself.

“By the way, Felix?”

“What now, Sylvain?”

“...Nice ass.”

Felix stopped dead in his tracks, his expression screaming Excuse me? He turned to do a double-take, eyebrow arching and the faintest blush over his pale face as he turned towards Sylvain. Sylvain winked in response, giving a wave to Felix as the swordsman stormed away and leaving Sylvain behind with a smirk on his face.

#stephic writings #fanfiction #fire emblem three houses #fe3h fanfiction #fanfic #sylvain gautier #felix fraldarius #sylvain #felix #fe3h #sylvain jose gautier #felix hugo fraldarius #i don't know how to tag a new fandom #this is the first time i'm writing in this fandom #whoooooa!#i'm hyped!#i hope you guys enjoy it though #i can't wait to keep writing on this #:DDD

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ask-the-riders · 4 years ago

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Ret Torments Nootmare (feat. fluff with Ret and Fam)

Uhhhhh welp

Yeah. Like the title says, this is essentially Retribution showing up in Nightmare's castle and being a little shit, intentionally pissing him off

It shows a new side of Ret which,, I had a lot of fun exploring

And then an added bonus: some fluff with him and Famine

Nightmare couldn't believe what he was seeing right now.

He'd just come back from a mission and headed to his throne room, only to find one of his many duplicates in his seat.

One of Night's duplicates was currently sitting in his throne, holding himself with confidence and pride, as if he thought that seat actually belonged to him.

Drawing in a deep breath and attempting to remain calm, he folded his arms behind his back as he began to approach the throne, arching a brow bone, "Alright, explain something to me, boy. Last time you were here, I made it clear that I didn't want to see your face in this castle ever again. Did it not occur to you how idiotic this decision is?" Retribution hummed in acknowledgement, arching a brow bone back as if trying to be subtle about mimicking him, "Mmn... Perhaps. Perhaps not. I was actually wondering something, though." Nightmare tilted his head, "Such as?" A smile tugged at Retribution's teeth as he mimicked his original again, also tilting his head, "Aren't commoners supposed to bow when they're standing before a throne?"

Nightmare's socket twitched and one of his tentacles shot forward. Just before the appendage was able to touch him, the rider's body seemed to melt into a puddle of darkness, darting out of the throne and slipping behind it. As he reappeared, his original's tendril slammed into the backrest of the throne, causing a small crack to form. Sneaking a glance at Nightmare from around the side of the throne, Retribution chirped, almost sounding amused, "Missed me, Tar Pit." Nightmare growled in annoyance again and hissed, "Are you ALWAYS such an insolent brat?!"

The rider pretended to think over the question for a brief moment, "No, not always. Just to you. I suppose that makes you special." The goop covered guardian moved closer to the throne, another tendril slithering around the chair. Seeing it capture his cloak first as if planning to drag him backward, he scoffed, merely unclipping the item and shurtcutting away.

Reappearing near the center of the room, he spoke again, "Before it escapes me, how would you feel about indulging in some self-care?" Nightmare narrowed his socket, "That would be disgusting, and I can't believe you'd even suggest something like that." A look of confusion crossed Retribution's face, and soon after, a look of realization settled in its place. He made a face in response, "Oh, what's this?... It looks like my original counterpart has a nasty case of the gutter brain. It'd be a real shame if anybody found out about that."

Nightmare's cheekbones turned the faintest shade of cyan and he scowled, "You wouldn't DARE." His non-goopy duplicate tilted his head and arched a brow bone, offering the other a pleased smirk, "You're me. I think you already know the answer to that." He briefly paused, easily sidestepping as a sharpened tendril came sailing toward him again, "That's not why I'm here, though. I actually wanted to talk with you about some things." Nightmare kept his single cyan eye narrowed in suspicion, "Oh really? Like what?"

Retribution watched his original closely, taking a moment to gauge his body language, "Well, I was hoping you'd explain to me why it's so important to you that you murder Dream. Why do you wish to kill the only person who ever truly cared for you, and who still believes you can change?" Nightmare stared at the rider blankly, "Are you dense or something? I don't care about Dream. I need him dead so I can attain the last golden fruit."

Keeping his gaze fixed on his original, Ret spoke, genuinely interested, "If you were to get your hands on it, what would you do with the golden fruit?" The goop covered guardian sighed deeply, rolling his eye light, "Destroy it, obviously. If I get rid of it, all positivity in the main multiverse will fade away and I would become so much stronger than I already am." Retribution hummed, doing his best to maintain a straight face, "I see. If I had a golden fruit and offered to give it to you, what would you do?" Night's gaze hardened and he balled his hands into fists, "You wouldn't do such a thing. You couldn't. Not since all of the golden fruits from your timeline became corrupted too." Retribution slipped a hand into his satchel, withdrawing a golden fruit and holding it up for his original to see, "Are you sure about that? This looks like a golden fruit to me."

Nightmare was caught off guard, his socket briefly widening in surprise, "What the hell? Where did you get that?! They're supposed to be gone! And how the hell are you able to hold that without corrupting it?!" Completely casual, the rider shrugged his shoulders, fighting the urge to smile, "Oh, I just brought it with me from home, in case I needed a little snack at some point." Night continued to gawk at him, "That doesn't explain how your touch isn't corrupting it, though!"

Retribution sighed, rolling his eye lights, "The answer to that is simple, genius. I learned how to adjust my level of corruption at will, and I built up an immunity to positivity. The fruit is in no way hurting me, and if I saw fit, I could corrupt it at any given moment." The darker guardian began to approach him, "You're bluffing. That isn't possible." The rider kept his attention focused on Nightmare, calmly lifting the fruit and taking a bite from it, ignoring the faint stinging in his mouth as he quietly chewed. Seeing this, Night was once again caught off guard, "Alright, explain to me how in the actual HELL you're doing that. That REALLY shouldn't be possible!"

Swallowing the mouthful of fruit, the rider arched a brow bone, "I already told you, idiot. I built up an immunity to it." Lowering his gaze to the fruit, he gave a low, thoughtful hum, "I don't know that it'd be the same as Dream's golden fruit, but do you think this one would do the trick? In destroying all that remains of positivity in the main multiverse, and all that nonsense." Nightmare remained silent as a look of genuine uncertainty etched itself onto his face.

Retribution reached out to him, offering the darker guardian the fruit, "Here. Take it." Nightmare's uncertainty rapidly shifted into a glare, "Oh, please. Do you really think I'd believe this was anything other than a trick?!" Ret shook his head, "It's not a trick. I'm offering it to you because as a version of yourself, I understand the pain you've endured, and I understand how important this is to you." Nightmare stared at him for a moment, attempting to read him and pick out any of the telltale signs of deceit.

When he found none, he cautiously began to reach out, intent on accepting the fruit from his duplicate. Just mere seconds before the goop covered guardian could take the golden fruit, Retribution's magic released it's hold on his aura. Allowing his corrupting touch to work magic of it's own, the golden fruit became black, and just for good measure, Ret forced more of his corruption into it, completely unphased as it began to rot. Nightmare's eye widened in surprise and he drew his hand back, before his surprise transformed into rage and he roared, "You IDIOT! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOU'VE JUST DONE?!"

Calmly dropping the rotten fruit on the castle floor and ignoring the disgusting splat sound it made, the rider arched a brow bone, "What have I done, hm? Kept the fruit away from a maniac like you? Saved the main multiverse from any unnecessary chaos? Please tell me what I did, Nightmare." The guardian growled, reaching out to grip a handful of Ret's shirt, "You little bastard! I should kill you for that!"

Acting more on impulse than logic, Retribution's hands quickly found his Morningstar, looping the chain around Nightmare's arm and beginning to squeeze, "Then do it. KILL ME, DAMNIT. I'M BEGGING YOU TO DO IT." Nightmare hissed, his eye dark with absolute hatred as a tendril surged forward, plunging itself through his duplicate's chest. For a moment, time seemed to slow; The tendril curled, crushing more of Ret's ribcage as it went, and Ret stared at his original in shock.

And then the rider smiled, mischief flickering in his eyes. Nightmare blinked in confusion, staring as the other's body began to shift. Rather than melting into shadows again, his body softened, and feathers began to slowly float to the ground. Withdrawing his tentacle and allowing his duplicate to fall, his confusion turning into disbelief as he watched the rider vanish, replaced by a feather pillow. The Morningstar's chain that had been wrapped around his arm became nothing more than someone's belt, and Night was at a loss.

What in the hell had just happened???

On the far side of the room that was behind the goop covered guardian, the rider phased into the shadows, his body easily blending in. His magic gathered up another shadow, quickly shaping it into something humanoid, and as he released it, it soared toward Nightmare, nearly toppling him over. The shadow being began its own barrage of attacks on the guardian and Retribution took the opportunity to sink further into his hiding place.

Once all that surrounded him was darkness, he let out a deep sigh, his body finally beginning to relax. A set of much larger arms wrapped around him from behind, and yet he wasn't alarmed, not even as he was tugged back against someone. Tipping his head back and looking up, he raised a hand, gently cupping the other's face.

Another pair of sockets opened, one sapphire eye light meeting Retribution's cyan ones, the light from it bright enough to illuminate the former prince's face a small bit. Turning to face his taller partner, Retribution wrapped his arms around him, his voice soft, "Thank you, Famine... I couldn't have pulled this off without you." In response, Famine offered him a slight smile, "No problem, Firefly. 'M just glad you're alright and it went the way we wanted."

Wearing a smile that seemed uncharacteristically warm and gentle, Retribution lightly tugged on Famine's shirt. Knowing what his partner wanted, Famine's cheekbones dusted the softest shade of faded denim blue and he sighed, his expression softening. He began to lean down, very gently pressing his teeth to Retribution's. As Ret melted into it and returned the kiss, his own cheeks became a light cyan.

The darkness around them opened up just as they began to pull away from the kiss, and Famine looked around, taking in the surroundings, "My room, huh?" Retribution hummed in confirmation, tilting his head, "Mhm. Is that alright?" Famine nodded, an arm still wrapped around his smaller boyfriend and holding him flush against himself, "Yeah, of course. I just figured that we'd end up goin' back ta your room, is all." The former prince laid his head on the other's chest, completely at ease, "If you'd prefer my room, we can always go there. I know using that particular ability really drains you, so I thought it'd be good to get you into bed so you can rest."

Famine's entire disposition seemed to soften again and he leaned down, affectionately nuzzling the top of the other skeleton's head and murmuring against his skull, "Nah, this is fine, Moonbeam... You're really too good ta me, y'know that?" Retribution's cheekbones dusted a soft shade of cyan as he looked up at his taller partner. Meeting the other's gaze and holding it, Famine delicately touched his face, his voice still low as he continued, "You're definitely too good for me, too... That's for sure."

Retribution heard his lover's words but he knew the truth; Famine was too good to him. He knew what Ret had set out to do, and after they'd discussed it, Retribution had agreed to bring him along. He'd been hidden within the safety of the former prince's shadows, and it was there that Ret had placed a barrier of sorts, making it next to impossible to detect Famine's presence.

Retribution had asked his partner to create a simple illusion that would provide him the chance to escape once things had escalated, but he'd gone far beyond what the shorter rider had been expecting. Rather than a simple illusion, Famine had managed to fuse his magic and his intent, and the instant Nightmare's temper flared, he'd sent his intent out in pulses. His intent clouded the guardian's mind as soon as his guard had momentarily gone down, and as a result, he'd genuinely believed he was attacking Retribution.

The instant Ret had stepped into the shadows and joined Famine, he'd felt traces of his magic, noting how it seemed heavier than normal. His ability to cast hallucinations always resulted in heavier feeling magic, but this time... Something was different. It was as if the taller rider had expended more magic. Factoring in the substitution of himself for physical objects, Retribution could only assume he was correct.

The former prince's attention was drawn back to the present moment as he felt Famine shiver, and he blinked in surprise, taking notice of the blue tinted sweat that had beaded on his face. A drop of black saliva... Or at least, what he assumed was saliva, rolled down Famine's chin from the corner of his mouth, and Ret let out a deep sigh, beginning to gently guide his lover toward his bed, his voice soft, "Famine... You used more magic than normal, didn't you?"

The taller rider almost looked guilty, offering him a sheepish grin, "Y-Yeah, I did. It wasn't a whole lot more than normal though, I swear." Helping Famine into bed, Retribution rolled his eye lights and did his best to seem annoyed, "You're utterly impenitent, you know that?" Famine laid down on his side and made a sound in acknowledgement, earning a scoff from the former prince. Ret allowed his gaze to wander away from his lover for a brief moment, his cheekbones dusting the faintest shade of cyan as he crossed his arms over his chest, "If you keep being so careless, there's a good chance that you could push yourself too hard and get hurt. We both know how I feel about even just the simple notion of you getting hurt, and I-"

As Famine reached out and tugged Retribution into bed with him, Ret let out a surprised yelp. He felt himself nearly be crushed against the other's chest, and his cyan blush grew brighter as he growled lowly in agitation. Famine nuzzled the top of his skull, beginning to purr faintly as the shorter of the two delicately touched his face. As much as he would've liked to be a little annoyed with Famine's carelessness, he found his agitation rapidly fading away as he silently listened to his purring.

Allowing his semi transparent tentacles to manifest, Retribution cuddled as close to his lover as possible. Each of the tendrils curled loosely around Famine, holding him close to the former prince. As Famine's purring grew slightly louder, Ret sighed softly, unable to help the tiny smile that tugged at his teeth. The purring momentarily paused as Famine yawned, and the shorter skeleton pressed a gentle kiss to his jaw, murmuring, "Rest now, Honey Badger... I'll still be here at your side when you wake." The taller rider made a sound in reluctant agreement, his sockets drifting shut. Ret began gently stroking his cheek with his thumb, his smile turning affectionate as Famine leaned into his touch, clearly enjoying it.

To most, he was a deranged menace at best, and a homicidal maniac at worst. To the former prince, however, he was nothing more than an oddly endearing gentle giant.

#writing #retribution.exe #nightmare sans #riders of the apocalypse #four horsemen of the apocalypse #undertale #undertale au #famine.exe

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willcwthewisp · 4 years ago

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false god complex | ben & willow

LOCATION: university of maine, white crest. PARTIES: @professorbcampbell and @willcwthewisp. SUMMARY: ben is more than happy to lend willow a helping hand. CONTAINS: elements of grooming.

Willow’s knuckles were white as she gripped the steering wheel of her car in a near death-grip, already dreading what was to come. Why had the telemarketing company thought she was a good person to deliver toner? She’d done her best to avoid getting too close to anyone in the office, constantly afraid that she’d end up throwing someone through the flimsy walls that made up their miniscule cubicles. But somehow they’d settled on her to make a delivery that required a signature. She couldn’t even find peace in the knowledge that she’d be able drop the package and run. No- the telemarketer would have to come face to face with an actual person. This was the exact opposite of what she’d signed up for when taking a job that was about being away from people.

Pulling into the university, she struggled for a moment with the box of printing supplies, finally managing to balance it on her hip as she locked her car. One slow and deep breath later, she was steeling herself as she walked towards the closest building. Just find a person. Have them sign. And get out. That’s all she had to do. At least it was later in the day, getting closer to a time of the evening when less students were on campus. Throwing a college student into the quad fountain was also on her list of scenarios to desperately avoid. And it was a rather long list. Why were there so many people in the world? Turning the corner into a hallway, she scanned for any nearby lifeforms, finally spotting the back of a man’s head down the way as he walked away from her. “Um- excuse me!” she called out, her free hand waving with uncertainty above her head as she made an awkward shuffle towards him. “Excuse me! Sir? Sorry- I just- well I’m dropping off this toner, and it needs a signature. Do you think- well would you mind signing for it?”

Thumbing through his mail, Ben scanned the various letters. Hardly anyone sent him physical mail anymore, but he made a point of checking his mailbox once a week. It was good practice to walk through the halls, make a show of being polite and friendly to all of the cubicle dwelling student workers and pitiful staff members who didn’t have access to offices of their own. His office was on the third floor of the building, and while he didn’t have a corner office just yet, he had it on good authority that the next vacancy would be his. Tossing a few pieces of junk mail into the recycling bin, he headed out of the mailroom back to his office. He would finish up some emails and then take home his remaining essays to grade. Perhaps stop by the coffee shop, see if he could arrange a serendipitous meeting with a student--

As he walked down the hall, Ben was caught off guard by the sudden flash of movement and a woman’s voice calling out to him. Toner? What, did she take him as a secretary? It wasn’t his job to make sure the printer room was stocked. But, he offered an easy smile instead and hurried towards her. “Here, let me take that.” He said, taking the heavy package of toner from her easily. “You’re a ways off from the printing room. I can carry this and sign once we get there?” He said with a nod.

“Oh- oh no, you don’t have to-” Willow began, but he’d already taken the package from her hip in a movement so smooth she almost forgot to be nervous about the proximity of him. Almost. Realizing how close she’d come to potentially grazing against the man, and therefore possibly tossing him into next week, the medium took a healthy step back. “Sorry- it’s been so long since I went here, and I swear they moved everything around,” she breathed with half an attempted chuckle, trying to set herself at ease after the close call. “You really don’t have to, though,” she started once more, hating to be any sort of inconvenience. “I mean- I didn’t mind carrying it! And it’s not your job, you know?” As she said the words she finally did a cursory one over of the man in front of her, blinking a few times in quick succession as she began to fully understand just how handsome he was. Oh god- now she was nervous again. “And I mean- you could just sign here, if you wanted! Then I could just take it to the printing room or wherever and set it and leave it there since you...signed for it. And it’s just toner! I don’t think anyone wants to take toner or anything, right? I mean, have you ever heard of anyone ever stealing toner before?” Willow ended on an semi-awkward chuckle, practically begging herself to stop talking before she said anything else that sounded equally, or god forbid, more idiotic.

Hefting the box in his arms, Ben made his expression one the model of politeness and patience. It was irritating to have to maintain his role as the good-nature professor for someone who so clearly wasn’t worth his time. Well. She was cute, in an out-of-sorts kind of way. Which was typically how most women acted around him. “No, it’s quite alright. It’s a heavy box and it’s easiest for me to just carry it while I have it now.” He said with an easy smile and tilted his head. “The printer room is on my way back to my office, so it’s no skin off my back. Two birds with one stone, hm?” He said as she rambled on and on. Incredible. She just kept speaking without providing anything of substance. “No need to worry. And no, I can’t begin to imagine why someone would steal toner of all things. Unless they’ve got a massive printer at home, I can’t see why they’d do that.” He laughed. “Ah,” Just shut up, “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable by just taking the box from you. You just looked as though you were struggling and I wanted to offer a hand. Or two.” Ben gestured to the box resting in his hands.

“Oh- well...thank you, then.” Willow wasn’t about to argue with a man who was being so perfectly polite about helping her, especially when he looked as handsome as this one did. After all, who didn’t enjoy it when a good-looking man helped you of his own accord without seeming threatening or overbearing? Feminism be damned. “Sure,” she agreed, feeling like she’d be doing that more often as the conversation went on. His words and actions were so confident that they nearly even set her at ease, which was no small feat. “Thank you, again.” She should make conversation, shouldn’t she? It was only polite after he’d helped her. “So you’re...a professor here?” That much was obvious given his mention of an office. “”What do you teach?” For a moment she laughed with him, still somewhat amazed that she’d been able to do so in the first place despite being at risk of telekinetically throwing someone in a public setting. “I guess so. Unless there’s some toner black market that I’m completely unaware of.” It was her own attempt at a joke. “No, no-” she began, not wanting him to think she was upset. “It was nice of you- really. I just wasn’t entirely expecting it and-” She didn’t like people getting close to her. Not when she was a ticking time bomb. “-and I appreciate the two hands.”

“You’re quite welcome.” Ben said with a kind smile he didn’t mean in the slightest. This woman looked familiar, and he couldn’t quite place his finger on why. She looked to be around the same age as him, perhaps a few years younger. Blonde, brown eyed, classical bone structure, but why did she look familiar to him? Perhaps he’d be able to worm the information out of her. “Please, it’s really not a problem. And yes, I am. I teach the classics. Greek and Roman history, culture, and philosophy for the most part, but I dabble in most ancient Western civilizations.” As he always did for the more nervous types-- and this woman struck him as quite nervous-- Ben offered a self conscious grimace. “But, it’s hardly the most interesting field.” He said as he led them through the halls at a leisurely pace. A toner black market. Knowing some of the creatures who roamed this town, there very well might be. “Well, my apologies for startling you. It wasn’t my intention at all. Do people generally let you,” Flounder “Struggle without offering to help? That’s hardly the sort of behavior I’d expect of people here.”

He seemed like a very nice man. Or a well-meaning one at the very least. The more he spoke, the more Willow settled into the situation she’d been handed, figuring there was little she could do at this point if he was going to be so insistent about helping. She just had to keep her distance, and everything would be alright...right? “Oh- well that’s all very impressive sounding,” she replied with a tentative smile, as if she were testing the waters when it came to the expression on her face. “The closest I ever got to the classics or anything like that when I was here were the art and visual culture classes for the eras.” While Ben carefully practiced humility, Willow was already shaking her head in denial of his words. “Oh no- if it’s interesting to you, that’s what matters, right? And I’m sure there’s plenty of people who find it really stimulating.” As she walked along with him, her eyes scanned the hallways, curious to see how her alma mater had changed in the years since she’d roamed it. “No, really- you don’t need to apologize at all. I mean- you were just being thoughtful. And there’s nothing wrong with that at all! Pretty much the opposite, actually. As for other people...I guess I wouldn’t know- I’m not really a ‘delivery’ sort of person, but the usual person was out today.”

Walking alongside the woman, Ben continued to appraise her. She seemed to have calmed down a bit which had resulted in, thankfully, less rambling. Some people rambled in productive ways, providing little insights into their lives, their minds. This woman? Not exactly. She spoke as though she had to fill the air with sound or else there would be dire consequences. “Ah, thank you, though it’s hardly impressive.” Ben said with a shrug. Oh, he was very impressive. Department co-chair, associate professor, and well established within the college at his age? No, he was impressive and he knew it. “Art and visual culture? Are you an artist?” He asked with interest, though internally he couldn’t care less. “Indeed! That’s how I find it as well.” Ben nodded as they continued down the hall. Rounding the corner into the printer room, he set the heavy box on the counter. “Ah, in that case, I’m quite glad I was there to help. It’s never pleasant when you have to take on the responsibilities of others.” He said with a sympathetic smile. He leaned against the copier, waiting for her next move, curious to see how she’d fill this new gap in conversation.

“Don’t say that,” Willow insisted, apparently gaining confidence where Ben carefully lost it. If there was one thing she was confident about it was boosting the spirit of others. “You know something that plenty of people couldn’t even begin to really grasp. Isn’t that impressive?” A friendly nod had her head bobbing up in down as he asked about her, blonde hair bouncing along with the motion. “I majored in Fine Arts when I was here, and then opened a gallery a few years out of school.” A smile grew more comfortable on her lips while he continued to be perfectly amenable. “Well then I’m glad you agree,” she finished with a small chuckle, finding herself more at ease with every moment. “Oh- well I was definitely lucky that you were there to help. And that you’re obviously more than happy to lend a helping hand.” A shrug tugged at her shoulders. “It’s alright- I don’t mind helping.” At least that was usually true when it didn’t put her in public situations that might result in someone getting broken in half. “But um- if I could get that signature from you now, that would be great?” She offered him the little electronic device they’d given her at the office, a pen attached to it. Holding it by the very ends, she desperately tried to ensure that no contact would be made when he took it.

“I suppose it is.” Ben said and offered a sheepish, apologetic smile as the woman admonished him. So she was one of those types. An optimist, someone who tried to lift others up. Naive. Interesting, very interesting. He couldn’t help but weigh and measure her, even if he had no real desire to lure her towards the way of his Lord. But who knew. She might be able to be of use to him, one day. It never hurt to cultivate “friendships.” Just as he thought, an artist, one of those creative types. “Now that, that sounds quite impressive.” As she held out the little device, she watched the way she kept him at arms length. As though she was scared of him? No, not quite. He wasn’t entirely sure why she was so frightened. “Of course.” Ben signed off on the machine with a smile before handing it back to her. “Ben Campbell. A pleasure to meet you..?”

Willow’s grin widened as the man agreed, happy to see that he wasn’t planning on minimizing his accomplishments anymore for the time being. Why shouldn’t he be proud? She was fairly certain everyone had something to be proud of in their lives, and if they couldn’t see that then she was more than happy to help show them. “Oh no- I mean- it’s not that big of a deal.” Willow fell naturally into the persona that Ben had cultivated for himself over their conversation, a slight blush creeping over her cheeks at his praise. “But thank you, nonetheless.” Relief flooded her as he didn’t offer a hand to shake along with his introduction, knowing she would have only made the conversation terribly awkward as she refused to take it. “I’m Willow- Willow Finch. And thank you for the signature, Ben,” she said warmly, already taking a step back as she reminded herself that she was testing the limits of her telekinesis simply by talking to him. “I hope you have a good day, Professor Campbell.” Then she was starting to head off, wishing she could have counted the man as a new friend, but knowing it wasn’t possible with her current situation. But it had been nice to pretend for the length of the walk down the hallway.

#// what a nice chatzy between two new friends <3 #ch:Ben #wickedswriting #chatzy #grooming tw

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