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clairecrive · 4 years ago

Note

can u make a nikolai x reader based on the song mr perfectly fine by taylor swift?

Mr Perfectly fine

A/n: Ahh, thank to you friend, I've been jamming to this song every day lmao Hope I've done it justice x Also, I've left out some parts of the lyrics to make it better fit the story.

(if you want, you can add yourself to my taglist here)

for my other masterlists, you can find them on my navigation page

Word count: more than 7K (ikik it took a life of his own, what can I say)

Warnings: bit of fluff, angst (like a lot), character's death, spoiler if you haven't read Siege and Storm

Tagging: @jupiterandbutterflies (Thank you so much for your comment! I saw it and it made my day✨)

(I don't remember where I took this from so if you know pls lmk)

Most people knew of Nikolai Lanstov. He was a prince, the second born and the most charming. Most people knew him thanks to the countless rumours that went around at court: supposedly he was not of royal blood. "Sobachka" was what they called him.

No matter how though, everyone knew of the last Lanstov prince. But very little knew him.

Meeting him wasn't difficult. Since he had been of age, Nikolai had always been out of the Grand Palace and among people. He’d also volunteered to enlist in the first army, refusing any kind of special treatment and fought beside his brothers in arms in the infantry. That was part of the reason why everyone outside the court loved him so much.

Being Grisha meant that fighting in the Second Army was mandatory. Not that you minded. There was nothing you wanted more for your people than to finally be free. Also, that Shadow Fold needed to go and as the Darkling has always said, all efforts are necessary.

That’s how you met Nikolai the first time. Generally, the First and the Second Army were stationed in different parts of the campsite. Numerous quarrels between oprichniki and Grisha had rendered the separation necessary. However, you never liked crowds much and living in the Little Palace meant that you were always surrounded by people. So, every chance you had to draw away and be by yourself for a while, you took it. Also, being a Healer meant that you’d spent more time in your assigned tent taking care of soldiers than among them.

Word had gone around that everyone in need could come to you. Usually, you had been instructed by the Darkling that your powers were reserved for Grisha. However, what good was it to have the ability to cure people and only take care of a selected few that very rarely got seriously injured? Meanwhile, soldiers of the First Army often suffered from severe injuries, fatal gunshots or knife wounds. You could help them and possibly save their lives so why shouldn’t you?

That was why Nikolai found you one night. Sure at that point it was just another nameless soldier to you. He had never been in your tent before so you had never seen his face before. The boy whose arm he had draped on his shoulders though, was a usual visitor of yours.

“Oh, Petyr, what happened this time?” gesturing to his blond friend to lay him down on the table, you started gathering everything you needed. Not that you needed much but you had found out that Petyr was absolutely incapable of bearing having his bones or injuries in general repaired without having some kind of pain reliever before.

After a few tries, you came up with a herbal composition that dulled the pain but didn’t make him unconscious. Using kvas would mean that Petyr would be knocked out for a couple of hours. That would put him in trouble with his superiors.

“He’s a fool, that’s what happened.” The explanation came from his friend after he put him down gently. Despite his words, you could hear in his tone worry and guilt?

“If saving your life makes me a fool then go ahead and call me one,” Petyr huffed in pain.

“Who knew you were so brave, uh?” After quickly shredding the herbs you needed, you poured hot water on it and brought the cup to Petyr’s lips while helping him keep his head up.

“He’s the bravest of us all,”

“If I knew it took a bullet wound to make you hand out compliments so easily, I would have done it sooner.” Scoffed Petyr after sending you a thankful look.

“See? What did I tell you? A fool,” his friend said dramatically and you smiled amused at their playful banter.

“Let’s see what we’re dealing with, shall we?” You said out loud to warn both Petyr and his friend. Letting them know what was about to happen was best, your experience taught you. Both for the person on the table that could brace themselves for what was about to happen and for the person with him that was filled with worry and cautiousness. Oprichniki didn’t trust Grisha that much.

After assessing the damage, you let out a relieved sigh as the bullet had gotten through and it had not hit any major artery. It had already got infected though, so you knew it would be a painful one to treat.

“So, did you receive any letters lately, Pety?” You ask, suggestively wiggling your eyebrows while your hands cover the wound. You had your eyes closed to better focus but you were sure that he had rolled his eyes.

“Only from my mum.”

“Don’t tell me you didn’t write her back,” you said, opening your eye just in time to send him a glare.

“Ugh, not this again, y/n, please. Have mercy on me, I’m bleeding all over the table.” Petyr moaned making his friend snicker.

“You’re not bleeding all over the table and if you didn’t notice, I’m already taking care of you, am I not? That doesn’t excuse you for being an idiot, though.”

“Are you two in cahoots or something? It’s not fair. Wounded man over here.”

“Oh shut up.” Both you and his blond friend said at the same time. Petyr moaned once again and you sent a little amused smile to the blondie.

“Should I leave you with a cool battle scar? Maybe acting like a war hero will give you the balls to write to her.” You harmlessly threatened him but your hands were already reconnecting the tissue of his skin without letting it scar.

“I’ve told you, y/n. She deserves better than what I can give her. I am, who knows if I even make it home? I’d be only stringing her along.” Now Petyr was dead serious. It was true, you had talked about this often since he was a regular you got to know him better and he had soon told you about his sweet Katia.

While his friend chanted “fool” like a mantra in the background, you took his bloodied hand in yours, his wound fully healed.

“Petyr, how do you think she’s gonna react when she learns that there hasn’t been any delay to her letters but you’re just ignoring her? Besides, you should let her make this decision too. Who knows, she’ll surprise you.” Squeezing his hand you turned to let your words settle and to put away your utensils. You knew you had given him so much food for thought so you didn’t address the subject anymore. His friend helped him off the table and that’s when you noticed that he was injured too. He had a pretty nasty cut on his lower lip and there was already a bruise forming on his temple.

“Petyr, you can sit on my chair while I take care of your friend. You should be fine but for at least a while don’t stress your body.”

Mentally making a list of the things you need to tend to this kind of wound and where you kept them, you started collecting before heading back to them.

Petyr had sat down but his friend was still standing.

“You don’t have to lie down if you don’t want to, but unless you don’t want me to go take a ladder or something, it would be best if you sat on the table.” You gave him your best reassuring smile as you mixed the healing paste. Sometimes, men didn’t like to put themselves in a vulnerable position with someone they didn’t know and had learned to fear. He wasn’t that badly hurt and it would only take a couple of seconds to fix but not every oprichniki was comfortable with being healed by Grisha power. So the paste would do your job for you. It would take longer, sure and it would also sting a lot more but at least he’d be healed at last.

After looking at you for a little while, the blond man did as you instructed, giving you a dazzling smile in return when you settled between his legs to fix his cut.

“The name is Nikolai or handsome if you prefer.” It was not the first time a wounded soldier tried to flirt with you. IT didn’t bother you, you found them amusing more than anything and you knew it was the allure of someone taking care of them speaking more than any real interest.

“Let’s hope you won’t be around here much for me to learn your name.”

“I’ll have to find another way to make myself unforgettable then.” He winked at you before hopping off the table.

You didn’t address his words, only gave them the paste you had prepared. It would prevent any wound from being infected and would be able to cure small cuts and bruises if applied for a couple of days. With that, you sent them both on their way. Petyr waving you goodbye while Nikolai sent you another wink.

And so this was how it all started.

Mr. "Perfect face"

Mr. "Here to stay"

Mr. "Looked me in the eye and told me you would never go away"

Everything was right

Despite your fellow Grisha, military life could be a bit alienating. Which sounded like a paradox, sure, but everyone had their own way of processing trauma and emotions and of course there were plenty of those during the war. If the best way to come to terms with everything that happened was to distance yourself from others and try to find the solution in solitude, it could get to the point where you’d feel alone in a room full of people.

To get a little respite, you’d usually go on a long walk or resort to stargaze. Sometimes, depending on where you were posted, it wasn’t safe to leave the campsite. So, that’s how Nikolai found you one night. Even he had to take a breather once in a while. Being a different version of yourself based on who you’re interlocutor was must be exhausting. Of course, you didn’t know this. You knew nothing about Nikolai at that point if not that he was Petyr’s friend and a socialite, according to other soldiers.

He seemed to be at the centre of gossip no matter what group of people you found yourself with and there also seemed to be a consensus about him. Everyone liked him. Even if it was rare for some Grisha to appreciate oprichniki, you knew they somewhat respected him because if they didn’t praise him out loud, they didn’t speak ill of him either.

“Not a fan of crowds, are you?” he announced his presence before sitting down beside you.

“I love them, I really do. It’s just that sometimes it gets too much.”

“Yeah, I know how you feel.”

“You do? Everyone seems to think you’re a socialite.”

“It’s what I want them to think but alas, I enjoy being more complex and multifaceted than that.” He lightly bumped your shoulder with his, eyes aflame with mischief.

“I bet.” you simply smirked. Despite how everyone seemed to think they knew him, you got the peculiar vibe from him, like there was a lot more to him than what he let everyone see.

“No one seems to know much about you.”

“Maybe you’ve talked to the wrong people.”

“Well, then I guess it’s better if I got straight to the source, don’t you think?”

“That will surely be a better start. Not sure you’ll find what you’re looking for though.”

“We’ll see.”

That night had been the first of many. It had become a sort of an unspoken arrangement between the two of you. While it didn’t last long, you sensed that you got to know him better than everyone. There was something about late nights meetings under the stars that prompted deep and meaningful conversations. It wasn’t hard to form a solid bond with him after a few nights.

The conversations weren’t always personal in the conventional sense. You’d often stray and talk about the most bizarre things. Like why something had the name it had or how cool it’d be if it was possible to pass through surfaces, which led to imagine all the uncomfortable situations one could find themselves in if they were to simply go into a room through its wall.

Nikolai was witty, overly confident and ambitious and he knew a lot of things. You always wondered how he had learned them since he was so young and been in the army for a couple of years already. But Nikolai was never too forward on certain topics, his family and childhood being some of those. You understood, those were sore subjects for you too. So you never insisted. It was much more interesting to listen to him rumble about impossible future projects of his, like a flying ship.

"When people say impossible, they usually mean improbable." He’d say whenever you’d point it out to him. Somehow, despite the absolute absurdity of them, the sheer confidence that he seemed to constantly exude, made you consider the possibility of his success.

You got the distinct feeling that there was nothing this man couldn’t do.

But that was when I got to know Mr. "Change of heart"

Mr. "Leaves me all alone," I fall apart

It takes everything in me just to get up each day

But it's wonderful to see that you're okay

But, alas, as all things do, these encounters of yours also got to an end. You knew it would happen, you were both soldiers so your lives were both heavily characterised by uncertainty after all. However, you were not prepared for it to end so abruptly though. And without an apparent reason. Because Nikolai’s unit hadn’t been posted elsewhere and he hadn’t been fatally wounded. You would have heard of it were that the case. But it wasn’t.

You thought that he had come to cherish your nightly encounters too. Some of those had been full of his promises. How he’d love for you to be around when he’d eventually find the time to work on his ideas. How you had been a nice surprise, a most interesting person among so many dull idiots you were surrounded by every day. How he’d come to value your opinions and presence in his life and that he was going to find a way to make sure that that would never change. Promises that turned to be empty.

You had never allowed yourself to fully believe him. It wasn’t the first time that a boy had made the same kind of promises but Nikolai looked sincere. Honest enough to be believable. But, of course, you had been wrong.

You didn’t realise just how much you had come to rely on him until he was gone. You tried to keep your mind off him and luckily the perfect distraction came your way. The Darkling had scheduled an attack on the enemy’s army and had posted you to be on the field to take care of everyone promptly. You had never been more grateful to the man, even after he had given her a home and a purpose.

Ever since your first encounter with Nikolai, you had thought it had been a blessing. However, you had soon changed your mind and now considered a curse more than anything. Why? Because as soon as you got to the field you couldn’t help but scour the troops for a familiar mop of blond hair. Many looked like him and being this far you couldn’t be sure that he wasn’t one of them but you certainly despised the leap your heart made every time though. That was a distraction you couldn’t afford. Besides, it wasn’t smart to let your heart get involved in times of war.

The battle began, Inferni and Squallers were working together to impair the enemy’s visual so they couldn’t shoot or use their cannons while the First Army marched after them to swap in as soon as the air cleared to catch the enemy by surprise. While your role wasn’t active per se, you were a Corporalki after all, and even if you had been specifically trained as Healer, you had also got one of your friends to teach you the basics of an Heartrender’s work. You weren’t a powerful one but you could hold your ground in a fight. Especially since they weren’t expecting you. And you were still far from any real threat.

The battle dragged on and soon there were wounded soldiers that needed your attention. You hated this kind of work, it was messy and dirty and had to be quick because spending too much time on one soldier could mean dooming another to death. You were accustomed to it by now and soon found a rhythm focusing on ensuring everyone’s survival and not bothering with the aesthetic side of healing. That could be taken care of later if they wanted to.

As soon as your eyes fell onto a crouched figure you sprinted towards them. It was dirty and you didn’t recognize them but you got the feeling it was a life or death situation. Oh, how you wanted to be wrong.

The person crouching turned out to be Nikolai and he wasn’t alone. He was kneeling beside someone, Petyr.

“Where are you hurt?” you hurriedly asked as you tried to assess the damage. His uniform was dirty and full of blood but you couldn’t figure out where it was coming from. Trying to answer you, Petyr opened his mouth only to let out the most gruesome gurgling sound as his respiratory tract was flooded by blood.

“He got shot in the gut.” Nikolai offered.

“Is the bullet still inside?” Opening his uniform jacket you tore a piece from his shirt to use it to put pressure on the wound.

“It’s too late,” Nikolai uttered.

“No.” You strongly refused as you removed the cloth and focused on the wound. His heart was straightening and he had already lost a lot of blood. If the bullet was still inside that it was going to be a problem, if it wasn’t then you still had a fighting chance.

“I removed it earlier.” So that was why he had lost so much blood. Nodding your head to show that you had heard him, you set out to stop the internal bleeding. Slowing his heartbeat so that it was pumping less blood and thus eased your endeavour. You were still in the middle of the field and while you were keeping up with the warfare but in the back of your mind, you registered the sounds of screaming and of gunshots getting closer. A bullet hit you in the shoulder propelling you forward over Petyr’s body. Grisha’s kefta were bulletproof so you weren’t worried for your incolumity but for the harsh movement you had made.

Leaning back, you heard Nikolai calling for you but your eyes were trained on Petyr. You tried to listen for his heartbeat but could only hear two instead of three. Nikolai, who had never left your side, immediately understood what had happened by the fall of your shoulders and the tensing of your hands.

He kept calling for you but the only thing you could focus on was that you had let your friend down. Now there will be one more family crying for a loss, another girl mourning a lost loved one. And it was all your fault. It was because of you that Petyr wouldn’t live to see another day, to write another letter or to fight another battle. It was on you.

The details of what happened next were a bit blurred. Someway you must have found your way back to the campsite. Whether you did on your own after tending to everyone else, you didn’t know. Your memories picked up after you woke up in your tent. Someone was calling your name, saying that the Darkling wanted to see you.

Mechanically you raised and made your way to the Darkling’s tent but your mind was elsewhere. Your thoughts were plagued by Petyr’s face, by that godforsaken sound he made when he tried to speak. The realisation that he was gone hit you like a wall of brick that would have made you stumble if you weren't’ sat in front of the Darkling’s desk. Whether he was speaking and stopped after seeing the forlorn look in your eyes or he hadn’t been speaking at all, you didn’t realize. You did hear him say that you were going to be posted somewhere. Under different circumstances you have said something, anything to not let him send you away. Your mind immediately went to Nikolai. You’d be leaving him behind along with the campsite.

However, you now realised that you had already lost him. Losing Petyr had been the last thing that had completely severed your bond. There was no turning back now and part of you was grateful.

Hello Mr. "Perfectly fine"

How's your heart after breaking mine?

I've been Miss "Misery" since your goodbye

And you're Mr. "Perfectly fine"

You couldn’t know, of course, but Nikolai had left not long after you did. Albeit for a different reason. He had finally earned the Major rank and as such, he took a step back from military life deciding that his skill would be better suited for a life on the sea. Assuring Ravka the supply she needed but in ways that weren’t exactly suitable for a prince but worked just fine for a privateer. And thus Sturmhond came to life.

As for you, you kept doing your job at your new post but were relieved when a letter came from the Darkling instructing that you were needed at the Little Palace. Part of you had relegated Nikolai to that part of your mind where the unmentionable was, however, a traitor thought whispered that maybe there was a chance that you could see him at the royal grounds. Sure, the possibilities were close to zero but it was still possible, right?

No.

You already were ashamed of the fact that you’re still suffering because of him. And yes, you missed him but you weren’t going to indulge the pathetic hope of seeing him again.

He doesn’t want to see you. If he did, he would have already found you. Or write you a letter if he couldn’t, but he didn’t.

You were right. You knew you were, nonetheless, the thought only brought you a bittersweet feeling.

You found the Little Palace just how you’d left it and yet it seemed changed in a way. The insane amount of work you found there waiting for you helped you drown the feeling that it was you that had changed.

Months passed this way, sometimes the Darkling would post you with him or outside the Little Palace. All in all, you’ve kept busy. When news of the little prince leaving the Palace reached you, you let it wash over you. It wasn’t like it mattered much, whether he was a few feet away or in another nation, Nikolai wasn’t part of your life either way.

When the whole expansion of the Fold happened, you were stationed at the Little Palace. Chaos and terror ensued as soon as the news reached the capital making most of the Grisha flee. Most of them went looking for the Darkling while others simply ran away and hid. You were amongst the first group.

Soon, your life was radically changed. The shift in the Darkling was palpable and it didn’t have anything to do with the scars on his face. You had tried your best to heal them and Genya to tailor them away but somehow, they could not be removed. It was an unsettling thing to realize that they didn’t take away his beauty. One could even say that they enhanced his attractiveness.

He was certainly more powerful. None of you knew what had happened in the Fold that day, just that the Sun Summoner had fled and that there were no survivors apart from him. However, as your journey in pursuit of Alina dragged on, you were soon witnesses of his newfound power.

The nichevo’ya, he called them.

He had always been immensely powerful. One of a kind. But this- this was different. And as dread settled among your group as you watched them in action, realisation sat heavily on your shoulders.

He soon found a trail and traced Alina in Novyi Zem and set out to reach the island by hiring Sturmhond’s crew. He was a famous pirate after all and despite his unreliability, the Darkling was sure that as long as he got his money, he wouldn't be a problem.

In the round trip, you didn’t see much of the captain anyway. Some members of his crew were amiable enough, particularly the Yul-Baatar twins. You had even asked Tamar to spar with you from time to time. Your lessons with Botnik were a distant memory and you knew that mastering combat training skills could increase your chance at survival.

When Alina and Mal were held captive though, that’s when Sturmhond made an appearance. He looked younger than you’d thought and there was something oddly familiar in the way he held himself. Still, you didn't talk with him much. Your job was to take care of Alina and so you spent most of your time in her room.

It wasn’t until the Darkling asked Mal to track Rusalye and consequently spent more time with Alina that you had a chance to talk with him. It was during one of your night shifts when he approached you, the Darkling had wanted some of his to always be patrolling the ship.

“What could possibly make a little thing like you be amidst this wretched company?”

“It’s all a matter of perspective, I guess.”

“The thrill of adventure?”

“There’s plenty of it everywhere you go if you’re Grisha, even if you just go on a stroll.”

“Is that why you follow him?”

“I owe everything to him.”

“I’m sure you realize your role in this.”

“Of course I do. I’m not some naive girl who has a crush on her general.”

“Ah, so who, pray tell, do you have a crush on then, beautiful lady?”

“You’re certainly noisy for a pirate.”

“Privateer,” he corrected you, “there’s not much to do around here is it?”

“Not if you have everyone taking care of it, no.”

“Amuse me.”

“It isn’t wise to let the heart get involved in times of war.” That was all you were willing to share. Yes, he was handsome. Yes, the twinkle in his eyes was oddly familiar but he was a stranger. A dangerous one.

“Those sound like words spoken from experience.”

“Maybe.”

“Well, I’d say it’s no fun to only think about war. Life is so much more.”

“Believe me, if I could, it’d be the last thing on my mind. But, alas, l don’t have the privilege to do so.”

You had already lost too much time speaking with him. If someone were to see you or tell the Darkling you’d be in trouble. And you had made it your goal to never put yourself on the path of the Darkling’s anger. So you excused yourself and went back to your rounds.

If only you had stayed and talked to him more maybe you would have understood what was about to happen. Maybe you would have had an enkindling of Sturmhond’s plans. Instead, you were taken by surprise, just like everyone in your group, when Rusalye was spot and a shot was fired. You had found yourself in the uncomfortable position of having to fight against people you had grown to like.

“I don’t want to hurt you, y/n,” Tamar warned you as you stood face to face on the sinking ship dock. Her trusted axes in her hands while your hands were raised ready to attack.

“I don’t want to hurt you either.”

“Then you don’t have to. Come with us.” Her proposition made you gasp.

“That would be treason,” you whispered hoping that the Darkling wasn’t around to hear you. A shiver ran through you as you thought of the punishment he’d give you for even thinking about leaving his side.

“Then you leave me no choice.” She said lowering her arms. Was that guilt you heard in her voice?

Before you could voice your question though, she shouted for her brother and not even a second later, you felt your body grow still. Your eyebrows faltered as you felt your heartbeat slow down.

They were Grisha.

They must have seen you realise because you heard Tamar apologize before everything went black.

Mr. "Never told me why"

He goes about his day

Forgets he ever even heard my name

Well, I thought you might be different than the rest, I guess you're all the same

You didn’t stay out for long though. As soon as Sturmhond’s crew had left the Darkling’s ship and had safely made it onto the Volkvolny, the privateer had asked for you to be awakened.

There wasn’t enough light for you to realize you were on another ship, what alerted you of your new situation were your hands. They had bound them behind your back. Immediately you started to struggle, hoping to wiggle out of the restraints. To no avail though. Huffing out in frustration, you settled for looking around you and see if there was something you could use. That’s when you noticed him.

“Release me- this instant, or else-”

“Or what? You’re a Healer. Not exactly a violent job, is it?” Sturmhond interrupted you, a smirk on his face since he had the upper hand.

“I don’t need my powers to kick you in the ass, do I?” He laughed but didn’t look remotely threatened. Rather amused, actually.

“Please, you have to let me go. He’ll kill me if-” Panic started to build as you realized that there was no way you could successfully escape.

“He won’t touch you.” A solemn glow took over his eyes. “He won’t ever hurt you again, you have my word.” He promised, looking subtly at your left shoulder. You winced as you realized that he must have seen your scars. The ones left by the Darkling’s niche’voya.

“How can I know if you’re trustworthy? You don’t exactly have a good score, you know?”

“You’re going to find out soon enough. Don’t worry.”

Of course, he didn’t bother offering further explanations. He’d left it at that. You weren’t a captive per se but he left your hands bound, only freeing them when you needed to eat or relieve yourself.

Fruitless were your efforts in making you tell more. He often ate with you and would check in at least twice a day but that was it.

It wasn’t until after you had landed after that forsaken vehicle of his had gotten you through the Fold that you understood. His coming out as Nikolai Lanstov, prince and second in line for the Ravkan throne, had shaken you all to your core. However, you doubted that it had sent a pang to the others’ hearts as it did with yours.

Nikolai Lantsov. The man you had been dreaming about, the one that had left you behind without any sort of explanations, the one you missed so dearly, had been by your side all this time.

You weren’t sure how you felt. It made sense now why his eyes looked familiar and his posture. You then connected that the vehicle you had used in the Fold had been one of the many projects he used to geek about with you. It tasted a lot like betrayal. Not because he had lied to you about his name but because he had tried to get close to you again and had managed to somehow break that growing bond again.

'Cause I hear he's got his arm 'round a brand-new girl

I've been pickin' up my heart, he's been pickin' up her

So dignified in your well-pressed suit

So strategized, all the eyes on you

Oh, he's so smug, Mr. "Always wins"

So far above me in every sense

So far above feeling anything

Even if his secret had been outed thus causing some shift in the dynamics between Nikolai and the two new members of his crew - you suspected Mal was closer to punching him every second that passed- not much had changed for you.

On the outside, you pretty much looked like a prisoner. Albeit a very clean one. You rode with them, hands still bound, scowl ever-present on your face.

Nikolai had not come to see you ever since that night after the Fold. And now it had been almost a week since you had started your journey back to the capital. Whether this was all part of his plan to make you look the part of the captive even more or he was just gutless, you didn't know. It was working either way though.

You liked to think that his reason was simply that he didn't care. He had far too much on his plate right now as it was. Going back to court after years of absence while also making claims to the throne and trying to sway the Sun Summoner your way. It was no easy feat. But hadn't he always liked to say that impossible often meant improbable? A lot of things had changed since that night but even so, you'd still pose your bet on him that he'd be able to achieve anything he set his mind to.

It wasn't exactly that thinking this way brought you actual comfort. Of course, not. But it was better than foolishly hoping for him to still care about you the way you did for him. After all, he had sent plenty of signals that pointed in the other direction.

But then why did he kidnap you? Why take you with him? You weren't that close to the Darkling to be of any use to Nikolai in that way. And, as a matter of fact, no one had come to interrogate you regarding his plans or whereabouts. Then why?

You still couldn't figure it out.

Some days your anger shifted more to frustration and you were ounces away from asking for him yourself. Almost as if he had heard you though, he gave you the final push.

It was the usual day, Nikolai and Alina were riding in the carriage, stopping in every village we passed to meet with the locals. However, this time, before climbing back into the carriage, they kissed.

You were too far to figure out who started it and the details. The gist of it was enough though.

You most certainly were a fool. Still thinking about a guy who didn't give two shits about you, who had kidnapped you putting you in a dangerous situation and you were still wondering whether he felt something for you or not? Pathetic.

You had to do something about your situation and quickly too. Officially, you were a traitor. You had fled and joined the Darkling, that wouldn't make you look good in front of the king. He was a lousy bastard anyway and will probably sentence you to death to set an example. You hadn't survived so much shit to end up at the end of a rope.

So, even though you had initially thought against it since you were so close to home, you decided to escape. You were already headed towards certain death so what was the worst that could happen?

Your hands were left unbound when you were in your tent. One less problem to solve. Closing your eyes, you focused on listening for any nearby heartbeats. You heard two, those of the guards posted outside your tent. Maybe you could find an excuse to call them inside, put them to sleep and then slip away.

That was not exactly what your powers were for but you were desperate. You had to at least try.

And so you did. You called them in and immediately set out to slow their heartbeats. You had almost succeeded in putting them under when someone else slipped in. The last person you wanted to see.

"Am I that bad of a host?"

You didn't meet his ruse though, you knew it would make you lose focus.

"I'm afraid I have to ask you to release my soldiers." As soon as he said it though, they fell unconscious at last. Your chest was heaving by now, using so much power in such a different way was costing you. But you couldn't back down now. It was one on one and you were Grisha and a woman scorned. He stood no chance.

"Move out of my way, your highness."

"I'm afraid I can't do that."

"You can or I can make you. Your choice." The venom in your voice was unmistakable and it took him by surprise. He gave you a curious look tilting his head to the side like he was seeing you for the first time over again.

"I didn't realize ruthlessness was one of your personality traits."

"You know nothing about me," you seethed. The tip of your fingers flexed, the tension in the room could be cut with a knife and you were already weary.

"It may have been a while y/n, but I like to think I know a good deal about you."

"And I would like to completely erase this last year but you don't hear me yap about how shitty it has been, do you?"

"You never did like opening up much."

"I'm well past the point of sentimentalism, Nikolai. It is coming far too late anyway. And whatever my feelings for you may be, I won't let you put my life on the line." Your posture straightened, stance ready for battle.

His eyes flashed, jaw clenched. His hands closed in fists and he almost looked hurt. But why would he?

"Is that what you think all of this is?" Nikolai always acted aloof. He was always composed and dignified. You had thought it was for his insane amount of self-confidence but now you understood it was for how he was raised. But you recognised the pout on his lips. It was the expression he’d always have whenever he tried to get something from getting to him. To prevent himself from showing emotions.

"You're holding me captive while you go around Ravka parading your latest conquest, flashing your return everywhere. I don't know why you're doing this but I don't care. I've stopped waiting around for you and I certainly won't let your father put me to death."

"You think I'd let him?"

"So you want to do this?" you threw your hands up in exasperation, "Fine. You really want to know what I think?"

"Be my guest."

"I think that the Nikolai I knew would have left out of the blue without so much as a letter. I think that the Nikolai I knew was ready to go to any length to achieve what he believed in. However, I thought that the Nikolai I knew cared about me and what we had but look at me now. So maybe, I know nothing at all."

"You certainly do seem to know a lot of things. But you’re not wrong."

"If this is the way you care about me," I gesture to my tent, "then I'm not sure I want this Nikolai to care for me."

“This,” he said, emulating your gesture, “is to keep you safe. This is my way to ensure that if the Darkling got news of your whereabouts, he’d be sure not to think you willingly left his side and betrayed him.”

“That’s because I didn’t!” You raised your voice in outrage. The nerve of this man.

“Spare me your indignation. I know you hate being at his beck and call, to do his dirty work and be constantly surrounded by warfare.”

“Do not presume to speak for me.” You snapped. You knew it was best to keep a cool head but his cockiness was getting on your nerves.

“Didn’t you? Hate it, I mean.”

“We’re at war, Nikolai. Being away or close to the Darkling won’t change that. At least with him, I was safe.”

“You can’t be that delusional to think that he was protecting you.” He scoffed at your words as if they were the most absurd thing he had ever heard.

“And you can’t be that delusional to think that bringing me back won’t result in your father killing me.” You fired back shifting on your feet. He winced as if you had physically hurt him.

“You have so little faith in me?” His voice was just above a whisper and you knew that your words had struck a chord.

“How can I have any, Nikolai?” your voice softened a bit. “One day you’re telling me how much you value my opinion, you promise me a future where I’d be the first to see your project come to life and then you left. You just left, Nikolai.” And when I was starting to make my peace with it that’s when you come back? Also, let’s not forget about my abduction and your flirting with Alina.”

“So yes, I don’t trust you.” You concluded, crossing your arms on your chest with finality. He just stared at you for the longest time. If someone would come in now, they’d think you were in the middle of a staring contest. Then he sighed and started talking.

“I had to go away. I had already pushed my parents’ limits when I said I wanted to be part of the infantry. So, one day I got a letter written by my father personally and I knew that my time was up. I had been Nikolai for too long, now I had to start being a Lantsov prince.” His eyes were on the ground now, shame making her way in his words.

“So that’s what I did,” he went as he started pacing,”I went to Kerch to study, just like my father wanted. I did what he asked, he couldn’t reproach me anything now. I could never stay too still though, a life of adventure was calling me and I could not ignore it. It was only then that I realized that I could do so much more than sitting in a class, to realistically help Ravka.”

“I couldn’t take you with me. You had such a larger role to play in the army and besides, there wasn’t much I could offer you. So yes, I left. I left thinking that I would find my way back to you eventually.” He had stopped by now, regret was swirling in his shining orbs as he looked at you.

“You could have told me.” You contestated, taken back by all the information he gave you. “I would have waited for you.” A whispered promise for something that would never be now.

“I was afraid, y/n. That’s not my best moment, I know and no number of apologies could ever make it right. But I was afraid of your answer. I knew I’d be asking for a lot and let’s be honest-” the desperation in his tone was evident now, he had unconsciously started to lean towards you but you knew what he was about to say.

“You weren’t sure if the future you were offering me would just end up with me being your mistress, am I right?” Your tone hardened but despite the insulting implication of what you said, you weren’t made at him.

“I’m a prince, y/n. We do not marry for love and this country cannot afford to disregard the advantages that a political union could bring.”

His honesty was as refreshing as it was unsettling. He was right. As soon as you had learned he was a prince, you realized just what kind of future you could have with him. But then he left and that problem did not exist anymore. Neither of you spoke, both of you were seizing the other. You had laid it all out, defences were down putting you both in a vulnerable position.

And someday maybe you'll miss me

“You should have talked to me, Nikolai. We could have figured it out together. If it came to being your mistress to stay with you, then that was my decision to make.” You said softly after a while. It pained for you to say this, you would have never thought that getting closure would hurt this much.

Tears streamed on both of your faces, in front of you had been laid what your future could have looked like. It was everything you had wanted, you could still do your job and have the man of your dreams. You were surprised to find that you wouldn’t mind sharing him with his supposed wife. You had been at court for enough time to know how most marriages went. If he assured you it was only a diplomatic affair but that his heart was yours, that would have been enough. Who knows, maybe she’ll get a lover too.

But now… now you didn’t know if you could ignore everything that happened. You did not trust him nor could you ignore how hurt you were by his lack of communication and thus of trust in you.

But by then, you'll be Mr. "Too late"

#nikolai lantsov #nikolai lantsov x reader #nikolai lantsov imagine #nikolai lantsov imagines #nikolai lanstov one shot #nikolai lanstov fic #nikolai lanstov x you #nikolai lanstov x y/n #shadow and bone #grishaverse #nikolai lanstov angst #nikolai lanstov fluff #nikolai lanstov blurb

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theweirdymcweirderson · 4 years ago

Text

Pretty - James B. Barnes & Steve Rogers

Author: theweirdymcweirderson

Characters: Reader, James B. Barnes, Steve Rogers

Relationships: Bucky Barnes×Reader×Steve Rogers

Word count: 2110 (these are getting longer and longer, sorry)

Summary: Sexy times with the Super Soldiers.

Warnings: 18+, Pet names, Daddy!Bucky, Captain!Steve (is this a thing?) explicit words, smut, teasing, Bucky Barnes’ fucking arm, chocking I guess, Dom!Bucky, Dom!Steve, so much dirty talk :), fingering, hints to unprotected intercourse, daddy kink (beware: this is my first time writing it), captain kink, sub!reader, masturbation, threesome. Let me know if you find more.

Notes: You may wonder what this is, the answer to that is, once again, I don’t know :).

The gentle light from the candle flickers on the walls, creating soft shadows in the otherwise dark room. You can feel the silky fabric of the robe you’re wearing tickling your skin, caressing it with every twitch of your muscles. Your nerve endings are on fire, crackling on each movement, each lungful of air; your mouth feels dry and you swallow again for the 5th time in the last couple of seconds.

“Look at that. So fucking wet, darling.”

Teeth sinking in your bottom lip, you nod to Steve even though his words are not meant as a question; eyes begging him for something, anything. The way he’s looking at you, the sound of his voice - almost as wrecked as you feel - the words he normally chastises you for falling from his bitten lips, every single thing has more slick gathering between your thighs.

“You like this, don’t ya? Being watched as you fuck yourself?”

Bucky’s voice is darker, smugness dripping from the words because he already knows, but he loves the way you get flustered; the way you look away from his eyes in embarrassment.

His teasing elicits twin groans from you and the blonde sitting next to him. They’re both at the foot of the bed, shoulder to shoulder as they watch with rapt attention how your fingers press inside of your pussy.

Your legs are spread open, knees bent as you lean back on the pillows Bucky has lovingly set against the headboard. They love your eyes on them, get off on having you watch the way you affect them as you pleasure yourself. Steve’s hand moves to the prominent tent in his slacks, palms it for just a second as another guttural groan escapes his mouth at the wet sound of your lips accommodating your fingers.

“She looks good, doesn’t she, Stevie? Pretty pussy peeking through the lace?”

Steve brings his eyes to yours, watches as you plead with him for more. You can tell that if it was up to him alone, he’d already be balls deep inside you, but Bucky enjoys the teasing.

“Fuck yeah, she does. You know she does.”

His sky-blue eyes darken a little more as he turns to catch his best friend’s gaze. They stare at one another for a moment, and then Steve’s eyes glance to Bucky’s lips as they curve up in that grin that never fails to bring either of you to your knees.

A frustrated whine slips out of you when Bucky’s metal hand wraps around Steve’s throat. You feel the green-eyed monster rear up its head at the sight of the black contrasting so prettily against Steve’s flushed skin.

“Wanna fuck her, Stevie?”

“Taste her. She’s so wet, smells so fucking sweet.”

Yes, please. Another whimper, your hips buck up at the suggestions; either of them would be more than welcome since your fingers are not cutting it anymore. You feel Steve’s fingers caressing up your foot, but you know better than to move. You keep still, breath stuck in your lungs as his fingers wrap around your ankle. Bucky mirrors his actions and they jerk your legs apart a little more. You yelp in surprise at the sudden movement.

“Oh, she smells delicious, a’ight. And your face does look real fucking pretty framed by her legs.”

Steve’s hand goes back to palming his dick and Bucky chuckles allowing his eyes to follow the gesture. You would protest at the loss of contact if your own eyes weren’t greedily soaking up the erotic scene before them.

Bucky tsks, metal hand gliding up his friend’s neck to land on his cheek; fingers softly sinking into Steve’s stubbly skin while his thumb caresses his bottom lip.

“You want it bad, don’t ya?”

Steve barely nods, doesn't even need to because Bucky can read it all on his face. His tongue pokes out of his parted lips, tip grazing Bucky's thumb and it's the brunette's turn to bite back a groan.

“See whatcha did, dollface? Got Cap here all wound up for you.”

Bucky's silvery gaze finds yours, and you swallow again at the dryness in your mouth as all moisture keeps gathering south. He smiles at you, all soft and warm, and the complete opposite of his words and the dark promises in his eyes.

“What do you suggest we do about that, hum?”

Your eyes go back to Steve's form, wander over his body, from his chiselled face down to where his hand is still squeezing his cock. You wish you could undress them with your thoughts alone.

Before you can answer, Steve interrupts you.

“Keep fucking yourself, darling.”

Bucky kinks an eyebrow disapprovingly and you realise that sometime, as you lost yourself watching them interact, you’d stopped moving your fingers. Not that anyone can blame you; your boys are just too fucking pretty.

You resume your teasing, because that is all you can really do with your underwear still on, but Steve likes it. He likes to see your skin adorned by the lace as you touch yourself; that's the reason behind it overflowing your underwear drawer.

Eyes apologetic, you push and pull, turning your attention back to Bucky.

“Whatever you want, just...do something.”

Steve squeezes himself a little harder at your breathy voice, and switches hands so that he can bring his left one back on your leg. This time it rests a little higher, grasping at your calf as he eyes your body hungrily.

“Whatever we want? Oh, dollface, you sure you can take it all? Take us both?”

You nod, fingers quickening slightly when your mind starts conjuring up images of what Bucky's words might entail.

“Yeah? Gon let us have our way with ya?”

Bucky's voice is even deeper than before, getting huskier by the second and Steve moans at his words, unbuttoning his pants. Fucking finally.

“Yeah. Yes, Bucky, please.”

They move at the same time, shifting closer to your body and you can finally feel the heat radiating off of them. Steve's hand is now on your thigh, fingers moving along the inner muscle until it quivers with anticipation. He grins at you, all boyish and carefree with a barely concealed hint of mischief.

The black, hard metal of Bucky's hand makes contact with your tummy, forefinger tracing your navel as you marvel at the light reflecting off the gold decorating the arm. Your quick intake of breath pleases him and he leans closer until he’s face to face with your heating cheeks.

“What d’ya need, dollface, huh?”

Biting down on your bottom lip, you let the hand that was clenching the sheets move to find his, fingers wrapping around his wrist to urge him to speed up in his ascent towards your breasts.

“I want you to fuck me. Need it so bad, please.”

“Always so fucking polite, darling. So fucking pretty for us.”

Steve tugs on your wrist and your fingers easily slip from inside you; the panties’ elastic gently slapping back into place. Both yours and Bucky’s eyes are glued to the blonde as he brings your fingers to his mouth and sucks them in, eyes closing in delight when your juices reach his tastebuds.

Heavy breaths mingle in the otherwise silent room until he releases your fingers with a lewd pop, bringing your hand to his chest before letting go of your wrist. He moves then, settles between your parted thighs and that seems to be Bucky’s cue to focus his attention back on you.

“Want Cap’s cock, dollface? Want him to fuck you?”

‘Cap’, you know what that means and you moan your answer, a broken ‘yeah’ that has Steve hurriedly pushing his zipper down and rising to his knees to shove the pants out of the way. Humour is coating the brunette’s voice when he wraps his hand around your throat and a desperate whine slips past your glistening, bite-swollen lips.

“And what about me, huh?”

“Want you too; want both, please.”

Unable to stop yourself, you glance at Steve as he’s unbuttoning his shirt, gaping at the expanse of muscle being revealed and hoping for him to lose the boxers a little bit quicker. He smiles when he catches your eyes, discarding the material aside and grabbing his cock again.

“Gon let Daddy fuck that pretty, little mouth of yours, darling?”

Oh. Stunned into silence, you keep your eyes glued to him until Bucky’s fingers tighten around your neck, effectively diverting your attention; claiming it back as his own.

“Answer him, dollface, gonna let me fuck your mouth?”

“Yes, Captain. Wanna feel Daddy down my throat.”

Both men moan at your words, Steve shifting until his hips are bracketed by your thighs; his cock now free and resting on your panty-clad pussy. He rocks forwards once, creating such delicious friction on your clit that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“Look at you, doll. You just wanna be a good girl for us, don't ya?”

“Uh huh. I'mma be a good girl, Daddy. I'll be your best girl.”

Steve ruts against you again, hands hot on your thighs, using the hold for leverage and pulling your body down as he surges up. Your thoughts scatter all over the place; mouth falling open on panted nonsense and pleas.

“Oh, we know you will. Now c'mon, darling, give me one before I fill this pretty pussy up.”

Groaning your understanding, you clench the sheets in one hand, bringing the other to Bucky's forearm for something sturdier to hold onto as his best friend keeps rocking you back and forth.

“You want that, doll? Want Cap to come inside that tight, little pussy of yours?”

“Oh God, yes! Want it so bad. Fuck, Captain, don't stop, please.”

He quickens his pace, his cock catching in your panties until Bucky reaches over and pulls them to the side, baring your pussy to his friend before bringing his hand back to your throat.

“You hear that, Stevie? Think we spoiled her too much.”

Steve grunts something that you can't quite make out, but Bucky seems to understand him just fine if his chuckle is any indication.

“Bet you want Daddy to fuck your pussy, too. Don’t you, doll? Cause one’s not enough for you anymore, is it?”

You hear rustling and open your eyes to see Bucky stroking himself through his jeans. Without waiting for his say so, you reach over and unsteadily unbutton and unzip them for him. He pulls his cock out and you take over again, thumb collecting the warm precome before you start stroking him as best as you can.

Steve leans over then, his skin hot as it barely grazes your rising chest on each intake of breath. They’re shoulder to shoulder again, Steve’s nuzzling your neck on the right, while Bucky is still upright, leaving room for you to work on his cock.

“Is that true, darling? You gon let Daddy fuck this pussy when I’m done with it? Let him use my come as lube? Is that what you want?”

A fresh wave of slick coats Steve’s cock after he husks the filthy words in your ear; his hand joining Bucky’s around your throat so that they’re both framing your neck.

You groan something intelligible because you’re too far gone; hips thrusting up knowing that you need just one more push and you’ll tumble over the edge. Bucky groans, his fingers twitch against your heated skin before he turns to face Steve.

“Fuck. That’s so fucking nasty, Stevie.”

“Shut up, you love it and, from the way she just flooded by dick, she does too.”

“I do. I do, please Captain. Would be so hot, to have you and Daddy filling me up, fucking my pussy ‘til I’m full and leaking on the sheets.”

You bring your unoccupied hand to the back of Steve’s head, keeping him close to you as his hips rut faster against your swollen clit. Bucky’s free hand wraps over yours and helps guide it as your body begins to turn to mush; all muscles slackening with the fast approach of your orgasm.

“Oh fuck! Fuck, I’m com-”

The words die on a silent scream when you convulse underneath Steve, feeling his left hand clutching your thigh while his body seizes up and a long, drawn out groan leaves his parted lips. Bucky fucks up one last time into your fists, and comes with a soft, almost inaudible moan that sears itself in your brain.

A beat passes, you’ve barely sucked in enough oxygen, before you feel the grips at your neck tightening again.

“Hands and knees, darling, c’mon.”

More notes, cause why the heck not?: Please consider leaving me some feedback? Maybe? You don’t have to, but I’d appreciate it. Thank you for reading in any case :)

As requested: Pretty 2

Find more here :)

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makeste · 4 years ago

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BnHA Chapter 314: ...Or You Live Long Enough to See Yourself Become the Villain

Previously on BnHA: Some random assholes were all “let’s throw exploding spears at All Might and see if it activates his Conqueror’s Haki” and SURPRISE, MOTHERFUCKERS, IT DID!! Elsewhere, Lady Nagant confusingly tried to capture Deku alive by shooting him in the stomach, but to be fair I guess that’s what happens when you send an assassin to do a bounty hunter’s job, so yeah. Deku was all “ouch”, and then because this is a shounen he basically just straight up forgot about it, and did a big fancy Smokescreen thing, and then activated his mildly incomprehensible new ki-blasting quirk which he got from the Third. En and the Third were all “hey Deku maybe let’s not just impulsively activate all this shit in the heat of battle when you don’t know how to use it yet and you’re already injured,” and Deku was all “thanks for the quirks guys but I’ll take it from here” and snuck up on Nagant and grabbed her arm and so now what’s going to happen I wonder.

Today on BnHA: Nagant is all “[shoots Deku again]” because of course she is lol. Deku is all “tell me about AFO!” and Nagant is all “why would I tell you anything?” and then proceeds to tell him her entire life story which is FILLED WITH SO MUCH MURDER, YOU GUYS. Holy shit. So basically she was an assassin for the HPSC, which we already knew, but somehow it’s one thing to know that, and another to actually see her running around capping dudes in the forehead and being covered in more blood than the elevator from The Shining. Anyway, so you’ll never believe it, but all that murder had a negative impact on her psychologically, and eventually led her to question everything she believed about hero society, and so she killed her creepy boss and was promptly sent to Tartarus. This extremely fun chapter ends with Overhaul showing up all “HI, HELLO, I’M STILL HERE”, because for some reason he is still here. Why are you still here, Overhaul.

“the beautiful Lady Nagant” oh you know your audience don’t you Horikoshi

well all right then! so I’m guessing this means that she is not, in fact, going to roll over and die just because Deku’s out here all “GOT YA!” like they’re playing a game or tag or something. ffff may the manga gods have mercy on our young suicidal protagonist

lmao so Deku is all “GOD I’M SO SMART, WHAT A GOOD STRATEGY I HAD, CAPITOL JOB THERE OL’ CHAP, CAPITOL” and lol, okay. I mean, it was a good plan though. but I’m still waiting for the other shoe to drop here

“I’ll make you give me information on All for One” well there you go, lol. Deku Angst arc still fully engaged. still no light in his eyes either of course. just a lil chaotic ball of sleep deprivation and rage

lol, fucking THANK YOU though

oh my god what the hell did she do to him lol

did she shoot him with her elbow??? fucking look at this?? THIS IS WHY WE LISTEN TO HAWKS oh my god Deku are you dead

WHAT’S HAPPENING, IS THIS GOOD OR BAD, WHO’S WINNING

things that I wish I could tell from this panel which I unfortunately cannot tell

did she stab him or shoot him?? can you imagine if it was the former lol. why does Horikoshi keep stabbing all my kids. look Kacchan now the two of you can match

did she actually hit him or did he get away??

or did she hit him and then he jumped away?? just, what

well anyway, so now Deku is asking her why she sided with AFO, but he seems a lot more pissed off than when he was interrogating Muscular, though. probably because she shot him three times. fair enough

oh my god

does Lady have a blog here on tumblr dot com?? -- does Horikoshi have a blog here on tumblr motherfucking dot com?? why do I suddenly feel like this man is out here sneakily reading up on all our discourse

oh my god Deku it’s almost like getting up close and personal with someone who can shoot custom bullets from any distance and any position with deadly accuracy was a terrible fucking idea

IF ONLY SOMEONE HAD WARNED YOU NOT TO ENGAGE WITH HER AT ALL COSTS. IF ONLY SOMEONE HAD HAD THE FORESIGHT TO DO THAT sob. can you imagine how much shorter this series would be if characters actually listened to Hawks. Hawks, and Momo. why do we even let anyone else run the show ever

OH MY GOD

DEKU, RUN

OH MY GOD WHAT IS HAPPENING

this looks a lot like what happens to me whenever I play One��s Justice. those fucking combo attacks that you can’t fucking escape from and so your character just has to stand there getting their ass whalloped repeatedly while you wonder why you paid $40 for this

but anyways though. so Lady who did you kill?? I bet they deserved it, don’t worry I forgive you

(ETA: ANYWAY SO FRIENDLY REMINDER THAT LADY NAGANT DID NOTHING WRONG EVER IN HER ENTIRE LIFE. aside from murdering all those innocent people and shit. but there were CIRCUMSTANCES, and THEY WERE EXTENUATING, OKAY.)

-- holy shit

looks like the HPSC arc is back on the menu boys

so are we about to learn that the HPSC was going full Hydra on people’s asses? secretly dispatching anyone they deemed a threat to society?? “taken care of” as in you fucking shot them??

so then was the “hero” she killed actually one of the guys who was giving or carrying out these orders?? holy shit Lady, up until now I’ve mainly just been stanning you for your flawless eyebrow game and metal af quirk, but this shit could actually get real very quickly, and I am prepared to genuinely and sincerely love the shit out of you depending on what we learn next about your backstory

oh my god?!?

so wait, hold up. am I reading this right?? basically the HPSC started murdering vigilantes because they were worried they were gaining too much of the public’s favor?? holy fucking shit???

oh my GOD oh my god

“it’s been a while since I scarred you all with the dead dog and the graphic slaughter of an entire innocent family, huh,” Horikoshi says thoughtfully. “anyway so what do you all think of my new creation, the Spaghetti Bullet.” well, Horikoshi, so you know that squished-up face that Kermit the Frog makes sometimes? yeah. that’s what I think, if you must know lol

holy hell the juxtaposition

I’m actually kind of surprised to learn she had a lot of fans? what with her M.O., I was expecting her to have been an underground hero like Aizawa, but apparently not? then again I still have absolutely no idea how any of that works. I really need to read Vigilantes already

oh snap

nothing like a sweet dose of assassin trauma to finally round out our BnHA Trauma Bingo!! well done guys, we finally collected all of the traumas! hooray!

noooo Ladyyyyyyy

holy shit what a fucking chapter. like, this man promised us an assassin, and went and fucking delivered. I was not expecting it to be this dark, lol, but holy shit I am here for it

you know, at some point you have to start questioning the logistics of this, though

I mean, how do I put this... her quirk isn’t exactly subtle. that murder scene from a few pages back looked like the first season of Dexter for fuck’s sake, that’s not exactly “disappearing” people now is it?? and I mean, her bullets are literally made from her own fucking hair; it seems like it would be impossible not to leave any evidence behind. did no one start to wonder who the fuck was going around murdering all these people? or did the people who asked too many questions wind up getting conveniently “disappeared” themselves??

and hey, speaking of asking too many questions

holy shit is he blackmailing her??!? or no, wait -- what the hell is he reaching for in his pocket boy you better not

(ETA: what exactly was this man expecting fdslkjd. “uh oh my unstoppable hair trigger assassin who is literally always armed is asking questions, better announce that I am going to shoot her and then reach into my pocket veeeeeery slowly while she stands there all of two feet away.” how did this guy ever function as the head of a shadow government with these decision-making skills, I’m genuinely baffled.)

OH MY GOD LADY YES

this. right here. is why “run the fuck away” was damn good solid fucking advice. oh shit. but my god did this dude have it coming

so wait lol has she just been narrating all of this out loud to Deku this entire time

okay but can we just stop for a moment and appreciate the fact that they’re having this deep conversation about the dark secrets of hero society right in the middle of their intense mid-air sniper free-for-all lol

holy shit you guys, Nagant’s the one that should have made the tell-all video. I mean, no offense to you, Dabi, I’m sure you worked very hard on your video and did a ton of crunches every day so that you would look good with your shirt off while you told the world all about how your dad was a jerk. but seriously...

this is already like 100x more convincing than what he put out. also, gasp, is it another flashback

yes it is oh my gosh

so the HPSC Chairladyperson whom ReDestro killed used to be this guy’s direct subordinate, huh? I wonder if she kept the whole assassin program going after she took over. can’t say I was feeling any particular kind of grieving way about her death before, but certainly not now lol

but unfortunately Nagant has finally lost me at the same place where all of the villains inevitably do, which is to say when they somehow make the dubious mental leap from “society sucks and is bad” to “let’s just be openly fucking evil lol, worth a shot.” because when heroes murder innocent people and cover it up, that’s obviously bad (and I mean, it absolutely fucking is lol, don’t get me wrong); but when villains murder innocent people straight up out in the open without giving a fuck, they’re righteous revolutionaries? just -- is there really no non-murdery middle ground here?? I guess that’s what Deku and co. are for, hopefully

anyways oh shit Deku seems to have spotted something?? and he’s doing something weird with Blackwhip what

oh, he spotted her, I guess

lmaooooo

new favorite Deku panel right here. a masterpiece

oh my god you guys our little boy is starting to grow up before our eyes

you love to see it. and you can tell with those elipses that he’s gearing up to say something really cool and determined and badass like the shounen protag he is, yes please, Deku ilu so much please do your thing

ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

IS THAT A TEENY TINY LIL EYE SPARKLE THERE OMG. still not anywhere close to his usual standard, but that’s some clear resolve there in his eyes there at long last! it always shines the most clearly when he’s being true to himself and his ideals, so I love that it finally shows up again here, when he’s reaffirming his resolve to help others no matter what

uh oh so what’s Lady going to do now

is it time for a trump card?? kinda sounding like it’s time for a trump card

???

I lied btw, this is my new favorite Deku panel. but anyways what is she up to now lol

ohhhhhh, lol

why does she seem shocked, lol. here I thought this was part of her plan, but apparently she forgot all about ol’ “Look Ma, No Hands” back up there

and so I guess that’s it for this week! so we’ve learned basically everything now about Lady and her quirk and her history with the HPSC and why she agreed to work for AFO. pretty much the only question that still remains is why the hell she decided to drag this asshole along for the ride! because I still cannot figure that out dsklkjlkf

(ETA: actually now I’m kind of wondering if they maybe have some past connection we don’t know about yet. when exactly was Nagant sent to Tartarus? is it possible she was ordered to track down and kill Overhaul at some point before that, but never got around to it? or something else along those lines? idk but now I’m curious.)

anyways Deku, I know that your empathy has no bounds and that you’re on a “saving villains” kick right now, and good on you... but also, if you decide to just like, skip all of that shit just this once, absolutely no one will hold it against you, I’m just saying. just, all I’m asking here is maybe let’s think twice before we start trying to reform guys who imprison and torture little girls for profit. I think maybe that’s a good place to draw the line. next week is going to be a very interesting chapter lol

#bnha 314 #lady nagant #midoriya izuku #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

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fluffywings13 · 3 years ago

Text

Red Wings, Cotton Ball, And Purple Kitty

“It’s okay.”

Six year old Izuku whispers softly as he waves his hands placatingly, he’d only come to play at the park, daddy said he had to be home by four, he’d been swinging on the swing set when the other boy had come running passed, tripping over his own feet, they made eye contact for a brief moment, and he’s never seen as much terror in someone’s eyes in his short six years on this earth then in that brief moment when their eyes met. The snowball followed after the other boy, jumping off the swing when the purple haired kid scrambled to his feet and continued running, looking the other way to see if anyone was chasing him, he spotted two officers looking around the park, sensing danger, he chased after him, something wasn’t right, Izuku may only be six years old, but he liked to think he was a great judge of character, and something about this picture was wrong.

So he made chase.

Which brings them here, in a dark shadowed alley, fifteen minutes after the time he was supposed to be home, with a new friend (he didn’t know his name but Izuku was under the impression that everyone was a friend until proven otherwise) who looked like he could use one of daddy’s famous legendary papa bird hugs, like, a thousand of them, just a giant never ending famous legendary papa bird hug. The other boy looks terrible, dirty, a leather face guard (muzzle, Izuku, it’s a muzzle) curled around his face, blood seeping out from underneath, and pale under the smudge of all the dirty.

“It’s okay. My names Takami Izuku.” The white haired six year old waves his hands soothingly. “I’m here to help you.” The other boy whimpers softly. “Those people are looking for you, right?” The purple haired boy whimpers again, this time there’s a hint of fear within, and he nods slightly. “Are they bad people, are they trying to hurt you?” Izuku thinks it’s a stupid question as soon as he asks it but there’s no taking it back at this point. “My daddy can help you.” The other boy shakes his head and he nods. “Uhuh, my daddy’s a hero, you know, daddy can help you and he can protect you and he can make sure no one hurts you ever again.” The other boy shakes his head again. “Yea he can, daddy can make you all better again, he won’t let anything bad happen to you ever again.” Izuku holds his hand out. “But we have to go, they were coming this way when I ran over here, if we don’t leave now, they might find us.”

The purple haired boy seems against it, but at the same time, he seems to want to get away before he’s found by those other people, and hesitantly reaches out to take his hand, letting him pull him to his feet. “Come on, we should get back to my place before my daddy comes looking, or worse, sends out a search party.” He rolls his eyes. “Daddy’s an overprotective worry wart.”

He pulls the other boy down the length of the alley, peeking out around the edge, he spies the two officers who’d been chasing after his new friend searching over by the jungle gym, and he turns the other way. “This way, come on.” The purple haired boy whimpers softly when he’s tugged forward, running with him, not that he had much of a choice, what with his grip on his hand.

They weave between people, some passersby gripe at them when they cut them off, but they pay them no mind as they run down the sidewalk, as far away from the park and the two officers as they can get. They run through the doors that open for them in a fancy looking apartment building, right passed the security guard who calls out his greeting, and straight for the elevators.

Pushing the button, they wait on baited breath, not knowing if they had been spotted and followed or not, Izuku turns as the elevator door opens, the other boy cries out in terror when the doors to the apartment building open, the two officers chasing after him to the park running inside.

Izuku turns, eyes widening, and yanks his new friend into the elevator, pushing the floor button frantically, willing the doors to close faster. They slowly close just as the officers reach them, shutting in their faces, his new friend tugs on his hand desperately, and he nods, reaching under the collar of his shirt, he pulls out the leather chain he’s wearing, and the other boy watches in wonder as he snaps a red feather attached to the leather chain.

They ride in the elevator for a couple minutes, the other boy clutching his hand fearfully, their elevator opens just minutes before the other elevator opens, and Izuku dashes forward, yanking his new friend along with him, the purple haired boy’s screams are muffled behind his muzzle.

The six year old cotton ball crashes into the double doors of the penthouse suite. “Takami Izuku, give me one reason why I shouldn—What’s going on here?”

The purple haired boy only has a fraction of a moment to stare in awe at Hawks as he’s tugged around to hide behind the man’s legs, he clutches tightly at his new friend’s hand (he knows nothing about him but anyone who would try and help him get away was a friend to him) and curls the fingers of his other hand in the back of the hero’s sweat pants, ducking back slightly when the two officers appear in the doorway, panting and bending over on themselves.

“What’s going on?” He stiffens when a hand rests on his head lightly. “Why are you chasing a six year old.”

“He’s….He’s a runaway.” The taller officer glares at him. “More trouble then he’s worth, always running away from his families, he should be glad that anyone’s willing to take a villain like him.”

Hawks makes a noise he can’t necessarily place a name to. “Tell me, how can a six year old be a villain, that’s a hefty accusation to place on a child.”

“His quirk.” The rounder officer finally catches his breath. “Brainwashing. We have hard enough time finding families willing to take him with his villainous quirk, in my opinion—”

“I don’t believe I asked you for your opinion, officer, and I doubt, given your discriminatory mindset, it’s not one children should hear, so I’d appreciate it if you kept it to yourself.” Hawks’ tone grows firmer. “I’ll take care of things from here, you’re dismissed from his case.”

“Well, sir—”

“Let me reiterate, I will take over his case from here, you’re dismissed, get out of my home.” The two officers swallow at the threatening edge that comes over the hero’s tone and nod meekly, turning tail, pulling the doors closed behind them, the purple haired boy looks up when the hand on his head moves, fingers scratching his scalp lightly, purple eyes meeting gold for the first time. “Hey, lil bird, I know it’s a little late, but is it okay if I touch you?” He nods. “Is it okay if I pick you up?” He nods again, raising his arms when hands curl around his middle and lift him up off his feet, settling him on the hero’s hip as he turns. “Let’s clean you up and get you taken care of, chickadee, my names Keigo, you can call me Keigo.” The man turns to look down at his new white haired friend. “I’ll save a warming from your little behind this time, kiddo, since you were helping a friend.”

Izuku blushes but nods, unconsciously reaching back to rub his bottom at the mere mention, tooshie warmings are not fun.

The other boy looks around as he’s carried back into a large bedroom, through the room, to a large bathroom, and set down to rest on the bathroom counter. Keigo tugs on his ear lightly for his attention and purple eyes lift to meet gold for the second time. “I’m going to remove your muzzle, okay, can I do that for you?” He nods slightly, watching as the hero reaches behind his head for the straps, undoing the latches, he pulls the straps free, and pulls the leather muzzle away, and sighs softly. “Oh, you poor little nestling.”

Keigo pokes the edge of his lips, where the knot for the stitching was, someone had sewed the boy’s mouth closed, sewn his lips together, sloppily too, it makes the hero cringe internally at how agonizing it must have been for the poor hatchling while they were doing it. “Oh, you poor little nestling, I’m so sorry, I’m never gonna let this happen to you again.” He watches the man open a drawer next to him and pull out a small pair of scissors. “Is it okay of I snip the stitches, we can’t leave you like that, we need to get it cleaned up before infection sets in.” He eyes the scissors fearfully but nods. “Thanks, little guy, I’ll try to be as quick and painless as possible, okay?” He nods again, going cross eyed as he watches the hero slowly start snipping the stitches, one after another, until they’re all cut. “I’m going to pull the thread out now, this might be a bit uncomfortable, but it’ll only be a couple seconds, a minute at the most.”

The purple haired boy nods again, Izuku takes his hand comfortingly, and he squeezes fearfully as the hero slowly starts pulling the threading out, whining at the irritation, fresh blood drips down his face as the scabs are broken. “There we go, all out,” the hero reaches up to the cabinet beside him for more supplies. “I’m gonna clean this mess up, it might sting a little, but it’ll only be for a few minutes.” He nods, watching the man soak a few cotton balls in disinfectant, and whines when he dabs at the holes and torn skin. “I can’t really bandage you up, it being your lips and all, but we can make sure you’re on a liquid diet until they start healing.” Keigo tosses the cotton balls in the trashcan next to them. “What’s your name, little one?”

He resists the urge to touch his lips. “H—Hitoshi….Shinsou Hitoshi.” He smacks his lips slightly. “You can c—call me Hitoshi. N—Not Shinsou…Please.”

“Okay, Hitoshi, that’s okay, I’ll call you Hitoshi if that’s what you prefer.” The winged hero looks him over and Hitoshi curls up slightly at the attention. “You need a bath, little birdie, you’re filthy.” He yelps when he’s scooped back up, resting on the hero’s arm as he turns, leaning over to turn on the water for the bathtub, closing the drain to keep it from draining. “How about some bubbles, you look like you need a nice bubble bath.” Hitoshi smiles slightly, he’s never had a bubble bath before, but he’s seen his foster siblings get them, and they look like they’re fun, he smiles as the hero pours in a bit of bath bubble solution and bubbles begin to form on the water.

They turn and the white haired six year old perks up. “Izu, will you go get Hitoshi a pair of your underpants and pajamas, he’s gonna stay the night here with us.”

“Okay, daddy!” Izuku turns and darts away. “Be right back, Hito!”

“How about some toys?”

Hitoshi turns to look at the hero in awe. “Toys too?”

Keigo turns to grin at him. “Can’t have a bubble bath without toys.”

“Cool!” The purple haired six year old smiles. “I never got to do this before.”

“You’ve never—” The hero stares at him in horror and he can’t stop himself from giggling softly. “You’re gonna have a bubble bath everyday for a straight week, you hear me, the whole week.” Hitoshi giggles softly as the man shakes his head and tosses a basketful of toys into the bubbly water. “Never had—that’s so sad.” He smiles when he’s set down on his feet. “Okay, you get undressed and climb in, I’m gonna go see what’s taking Izu so long to get you a pair of underpants and pajamas, honestly, it’s not like I asked him to make them.” Keigo smiles when the six year old giggles again and rubs his head. “I’ll be right back.”

…

Izuku has to go to school the next day, Keigo says he’s not going, just in case anyone tries to come for them, which leaves Hitoshi home alone with the hero for the first time in his entire life, the first time being in a hero’s home for the first time in his life, there’s a lot of firsts here for him.

Any fear that the hero was going to turn out to actually be a giant tightwad and a stickler for the rules is dashed when they get to the hero’s office, the man tosses his coat onto his desk, and he shrieks when he’s scooped up from behind. “Let’s have some fun. All work and no play makes for a very bored Hawks.”

“W—What?” Hitoshi shrieks when the hero falls back on the couch in his office and lays him down on his lap. “K—Keigo?”

“This is the second thing me and Izu did when I first brought him home.”

The purple haired six year old stares up at him. “What was the first?”

Keigo smiles down at him. “Bubble bath, you and him aren’t much different, you know, both came from unsavory circumstances. That’s what made this so important.” The little boy can’t help but giggle when his shirt’s pushed up slightly. “Let’s see what kinda tummy you have.” Hitoshi giggles as his legs are guided back around the hero’s sides and he starts poking around his belly. “Nice, nice, just like I like my little fledgling tummies.” He shrieks and giggles harder. “Chubby and tickly.”

Hitoshi squeals with laughter, those wiggling fingers travel around, they don’t stay in one place, they wiggle in a big circle around his belly, then they wiggle over to the left side, and slowly wiggle their way over to the right, and he cackles brightly, kicking his feet behind the hero. “Aaahhaahahhahahahahahahaaa Keheheheheheheeeiiiii nohohohohohoo! Nohohohot thehehehehehee beeheheheheheheelly! Eeieiaieaaiaaahahhahahahahahahahaha aaahhahahahahahahahahaa Keeheheheheheheheei Keheheheheheheheei! Mehehehehehehheeercy! Plehehehehehehease!”

“Let me think about it.” He pulls his hands away, letting the boy giggle wildly, and wiggles his fingers threateningly above his belly. “Nope, I’m not feeling merciful today.” He claws his fingers in, and the boy squeals, kicking his feet again. “If you’ve never had a bubble bath before I’m betting you’ve never had any tickles before either, and chubby little nestling tummies need to be tickled, any papa bird with half a brain cell would tell you that.”

“Nohohohoho! Nohhoohohot thahahahhaat! Nohohoot thehehehe clahahahhaws! Nohohot thohohose! Eeieieiaiaiahaaahahahahhahahaa Keheheheheeiiii eieiieaaaiaahhahahahhhaahahaahha! Nohohohot thehehehe clahahahhaws! Ahahahahahahehheaheeeeeieiieieaiaiaahaahaahahahhahaha!”

“Oh, yes, the claws.” Keigo chuckles softly, the boy absolutely overcome with laughter, cackling loud and freely, vibrating his fingers and wiggling them in deep. “The claws want a piece of you.”

“Aahahahahahahhahahahaa aeaeeeieieiieieaiaiaaahahhahahahahahahahaa thohohohose ahahahahare thehehehe wohohohorst! Kehehehehheeiii! Thehehehheey tihihihickle! Thehehehhe clahahahahahhaaws tihihihihicckle!”

“They do, huh?” He decides to have some semblance of mercy on the nestling, pulling back his claws, or, in this specific instance, talons, and pokes around the six year old’s chubby tummy, smiling at his wild giggles and squirming. “This tummy has six years of missing tickles to make up for, and what’d you know, I’m free for the first half of my shift to give this tummy the tickles it missed out on.”

Hitoshi bats at the hero’s fingers, shrieking with every poke, kicking at the back of the couch. “Kehehehehei! Kehehehehehei! Nohohohoho pohohohoking! Nohohoho pohohohooking!”

“No poking?” He holds his hands above the purple haired boy’s tummy. “How about claws?”

“No! Nohohoho! Kehehehei!” The purple haired six year old reaches for the hero’s hands. “Nohohot theehehe clahahahaws!”

The hero smiles when he dips his hands and the boy squeals. “Not the what?”

“Claws! Clahahahaws!” Hitoshi tries to catch the hero’s hands and squeals every time his hands dip. “Clahahahaws!”

Keigo hums playfully. “Why not?”

The six year old curls his fingers around the hero’s wrists in an attempt to keep his hands away, well, more so those dreaded claws, but he digresses. “Tihihihickles! Tickles! Tihihihickles!”

“Claw tickles?” Unphased by the little hands latched onto his wrists, the hero lowers his hands, clawing his fingers in the boy’s belly. “Okay, I can do that.” The six year old squeals brightly kicking his feet and batting at the hero’s hands. “Someone’s got a ticklish chubby little tummy.”

Hitoshi squeals with laughter and shakes his head. “Nohohohot! Dohohoho nohohohot!”

“Do not?” The hero returns to poking around the six year old’s chubby tummy, wiggling his index fingers next to his belly button, and the young boy shrieks with laughter, bating at his fingers. “You don’t call this a ticklish tummy?”

Hitoshi shakes his head and shrieks, catching the hero’s fingers and clutching on tight, giggling in relief. “Nohoho!”

“Aw, that’s cute.” Keigo coos down at him. “You think I need my fingers to tickle this little tummy.” The six year old yelps between giggles when the man curls his fingers around his wrists and pulls his hands back, squealing when a dozen feathers, at least, come down to flutter over his tummy. “I have a number of uses for my feathers and one of them is torturing chubby little fledgling tummies.”

…

“Kei,” the hero looks down to the right, where the purple haired boy is holding his hand, and smiles down at him in acknowledgement. “What are we doing here?”

Here?

An animal shelter.

“We’re gonna get a kitten.”

Hitoshi’s eyes widen comically and he bounces, turning to face him completely. “Really! Really, Kei! Are we really!”

Keigo chuckles softly, swinging their arms lightly. “Really, you have to find the perfect kitten, okay, this is your mission.”

The purple haired six year old nods quickly. “Okay! I can do it!”

He looks over to the left when Izuku tugs on his other hand. “Daddy can I pick a kitten too?”

Keigo squeezes his white haired son’s hand (he’s got a purple haired son but the little guy doesn’t know it yet as the paperwork hasn’t been finalized just yet). “You sure can.”

“Yay!”

…

“Kei?”

Keigo looks up from his phone at the boy’s call and grins, patting the spot next to him on the couch, trying to keep from talking too loud lest they interrupt Izuku’s movie. Hitoshi darts forward, climbing up to sit with the hero on the couch. Snuggling down under his arm, into his side, and smiles when Cheeto jumps up to curl up on his lap.

The hero squeezes him close. “Yea, hatchling?”

“Kei,” Hitoshi pets Cheeto’s head gently. “What were those papers you got that made you smile so big?”

“Well, little nestling,” he rubs the purple haired boy’s belly. “Those were adoption papers.”

“But, who—” The six year old’s eyes widen when the hero grins at him. “Me?”

“Congrats, baby bird.” Hitoshi smiles when the man kisses the side of his head. “You’re now officially Takami Hitoshi.”

“So…That means…..That means…” Keigo waits for the boy to find his words. “You’re my daddy now?”

“Sure does, little guy.” The hero nods. “That means I’m your daddy and your my son. We’re a family, you, me, and Izu.”

“And Cheeto and Dorito!”

He chuckles and nods. “Right, and Cheeto and Dorito.”

#parental hawks #shinsou #shinsou hitoshi #Kid Shinsou #adopted midoriya #midoriya izuku #adopted shinsou #mha fluff #mha shinso hitoshi #mha shinsou #mha hawks #mha takami keigo #mha fic #soft fluff #found family #lee!shinsou #ler!hawks

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sonicunleash · 2 years ago

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SONIC PRIME SPOILERS FOR SEASON 1 (THIS IS LONG. THIS IS LITERALLY ALL MY INITIAL THOUGHTS.)

OKAY SO FIRST OFF. GOD. Everything with new yoke is so so good. By far out of the universes they made new yoke a very very engaging one-- all the characters feel complex and thoughtful and it's not just a one-off universe. You care about their plight and while circumstances have changed them as people, theyre all still believable and complex like you can see why they've become this way. They dont feel like theyre being forcibly FIT into their roles in new yoke if that makes sense.

On that note, god Nine is so good and CARRIES when he has the focus. He's such a good introspective on Tails, and his deeper feelings and who he is without sonic, who he would be if he had to make it on his own. They do a wonderful balance of showing he's been forced to "grow up" because of the eggman empire, while also showing that he's still just.... a really lonely 8 year old who thinks the world is against him. So when sonic shows up and reaches out to HIM, gives him the first good connection he's had... he clings to it and clings hard. But he's new to connections and friends and doesn't really understand yet how to work them I think. So when sonic doesnt make it to save him, when sonic can't stay in the grim because he has other friends to save, nine takes it personally. It's all just. so so well done and in my opinion, out of all of the introspections they try to do with sonic's friends-- the most faithful, heartfelt, and engaging one. Which, is somewhat a given since it seems like Nine is going to remain a major, overarching character, along with the rest of new yoke.

ANYWAYS. Nine and New Yoke aside, I think another thing sonic prime is doing well so far is building up stakes with its main plot. Its not throwing nonsensical plots twists at you, but just builds in this great steady way that you're putting the pieces together on the situation the same time the characters are, and realizing just how deeply things are getting fucked. It's been REALLY engaging on that front and I'm happy for it.

But uhm. On a different note, the universes outside new yoke were.... lackluster. Both try to delve into another one of sonic's friends, and their feelings and sonic's relationship with them, but I think like... In the writers' heads right now, new yoke is the "main" plot heavy universe, and the others are one-off side universes that exist only as stepping stones to forward it. And you can... tell. Neither of the other universes' storylines are as engaging, and none of the alternates of the characters have the thought and depth that the new yoke ones have. And I think it kind of hurts the storyline, cause, well. You can tell. They WANT to engage you emotionally with amy and knuckles' nuances but they just fall flat and lose that impact theyre going for.

And god dont get me started on thorn and the jungle universe. That was just the biggest waste of what. 2? 3 episodes? I ever watched. I could not fucking care about that plot at all.

Uhm what else.... Well I think shadow is done... alright. He's being helpful, or, well, an ally (kinda hard to be helpful when youre a Void Ghost allowed only like 2 minutes of screentime), rather than a pointless obstacle, and his anger at sonic has reasoning behind it. His voiceacting also isn't as terrible as I thought. It's still not Right but its not kirk thornton-- and doesnt have that overexaggerated roughness. He is still very obviously sonic primes hype man though. He's got something going on, and clearly they want to do some kind of plot with him, but over the course of the 8 episodes he gets a little... repetitive. He kinda just relays the same thing to sonic every time we see him. Like Okay Sonic Fucked Up is Shadow going to just keep telling sonic that or is he gonna like. help.

I guess we'll see. I gotta be honest until that ball gets rolling im more invested in Nine and whatever happened there with Rusty Rose seeing Black Rose. someone please help rusty

#If you read all that i'll give you a trophy because holy shit that was a lot

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gamerwoo · 4 years ago

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[Tales from the Pack] Seungcheol: Stubborn (Bonus)

Characters: Seungcheol x female reader

Genre/warnings: werewolf au, fantasy, fluff, smut during the second half (fingering/eating out, a lot of praise, just cheol being really soft, unprotected sex [remember to use condoms friends!!!], unintentional sorta exhibitionism?????)

Word count: 4,544

Summary: You’ve heard the stories your relatives told you about werewolves when you were younger, but you always thought it was just a scare tactic to make kids behave. Well, up until you woke up in a den full of werewolves.

a/n: this part takes place further into the future during seungkwan’s part, and since it contains spoilers for the future, i recommend skipping this and reading up to part 8 of seungkwan’s series, and then coming back when you’re done!!

Previous | Stubborn Masterlist | TftP Masterlist

Maybe it was because everyone was on-edge about Seungkwan’s condition that was rapidly decreasing. Maybe it was because everybody was still a bit shaken up over Eunjin being what she was. But something was making your old habits of being a thief kick in. You hid in shadows, snuck around the house, and came and went like the wind. Hardly anybody saw you, including your mate.

You weren’t avoiding Seungcheol, not at all. You were just uncomfortable, and that made you want to stay hidden. You assumed it was the tension in the house, but you just didn’t want to be seen, heard, or noticed. Unfortunately, this also happened to effect Seungcheol who now usually had to sniff you out or simply follow the imprinting pull.

The last couple weeks, though, Seungcheol had gotten down your typical hiding places – although, he did almost trip over you while trying to find you because you were crouched down behind the counter while you sharpened the kitchen knives for fun. Today, though, he found you upstairs in Seokmin’s room.

Seokmin was a very positive person in the pack, and all he wanted was for everybody to get along. But because things weren’t working out between Seungkwan and Eunjin and there was nothing he could do, he typically hid away in his room and kept himself busy with reading or singing to keep his mind off of it. But today, you were hanging out with him while he tried to practice his weather power since he hadn’t intentionally used it before. It was only during those nights he had nightmares when it was developing that he’d used it -- but he didn’t even know it was him doing it -- and the few days he was first coping with the situation with Seungkwan. But none of those instances were intentional, so he wanted to hone in on his new power.

“Does it change the weather in town or just in our little area?” you wondered as Seokmin stared out the window, holding his hand out palm-up as his fingers slowly curled inward. Clouds started forming in the blue sky, turning it a grey color.

“I don’t really know,” Seokmin said absentmindedly as he watched the weather start to change at his own will. He suddenly looked over at you with a warm grin. “Do you like snow?”

You frowned, shaking your head. As a thief, you only had bad memories with snow. You didn’t really have a place of your own before, so you associated snow with being cold and struggling for the next few months. Sure, it was kind of pretty, but you never actually enjoyed it.

“What, really?” he asked, surprised that you didn’t like it. “Why not?”

“I was always stuck outside in the cold,” you said with a small pout, looking away from Seokmin and at the familiar grey sky that indicated snow coming.

Seokmin just smiled, “Don’t worry, I’ll show you how to enjoy it.”

“You’re really going to make it snow?”

“Just here – I think…”

Soon enough, little snowflakes began to fall from the sky. All you could do was frown as you watched, dreading when it would start accumulating. You knew you could just come back inside when you got too cold, but it was just the bad memories that were dragging you down.

You heard a soft knock at the door before you heard it open with a very quiet creak. You didn’t even have to turn around to guess who it was.

“What’re you two doing?” Seungcheol chuckled as he walked over to where the two of you were sitting on the floor, staring up at the window.

“Making snow,” Seokmin reported, letting his hand fall into his lap as he turned to look at the alpha. “You like snow, right, Seungcheol?”

Seungcheol shrugged as he crouched down behind and between the two of you, “Yeah, it’s fun – especially seeing the rest of you run around in it.”

Seokmin turned to you excitedly, “We shift and run around outside when it snows. The pack loves it.”

You just nodded, mumbling, “Good for you.”

“_____, do you not like snow?” Seungcheol wondered.

You shook your head in exaggerated movements to really get the point across. Seungcheol just smiled in amusement, putting a warm hand in the center of your back as he stroked it with his thumb.

“You can play with us in the snow tomorrow when it accumulates on the ground,” he suggested, “and if you hate it, I’ll bring you back inside and make you soup. Okay?”

You shrugged, mumbling an, “Okay…”

Thankfully for Seokmin, he didn’t have to sit there and constantly make the weather do what he wanted. Once he got it going, he didn’t have to do anything else until he wanted it to stop.

“C’mon,” Seungcheol stood before he helped you up, “I need to get food in you.”

“Are Mingyu and Danbi back from Jiung’s?” Seokmin wondered.

“You just want to play with Jiwoo,” he chuckled. “Yeah, they’re back.”

“Finally!” Seokmin grinned, hopping up from the floor.

The next morning, you were awoken by the sound of howling and excited yipping. You groaned and rolled onto your other side, burying your face in your pillow to drown it out. You felt Seungcheol’s arms encircle you and pull you to his chest, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of your head.

But then you heard Yeji from downstairs shriek excitedly, “There’s snow everywhere!”

Your eyes opened, staying narrowed. You were definitely awake now.

“Guess the pack saw Seokmin’s little surprise,” Seungcheol said, his voice raspy and deep from sleeping.

Everyone had obviously noticed the snow falling the day prior, but about a foot or two had accumulated quickly on the ground around the house. A few of the wolves had already run outside to play, but apparently some people had just woken up and noticed – and by some people, you meant your overly-excited sister.

Soon enough, you heard feet bolting down the hall before throwing open your bedroom door.

“Seungcheol!” Mingyu was panting. “Seokmin made it snow yesterday, and look outside!”

“I didn’t realize snow on the ground meant everyone forgot how to knock,” Seungcheol said as he sat up and stretched his arms above his head.

Mingyu blushed a bit even though he knew he wasn’t interrupting anything, “Sorry. Are you gonna come outside?”

“In a bit. Let me bundle up _____.”

“_____, we can have a snowball fight!” Mingyu gasped excitedly. “I bet you’ll be really good at it.”

You rolled over, looking up at Seungcheol, “Is that the thing kids do?”

Seungcheol chuckled, nodding his head, “Yes. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re all just very big children.”

After being put in five sweaters, two pairs of pants – one pair being yours and the other being Seungcheol’s just because he thought they might somehow be better for you – and a hat, Seungcheol brought you outside with him while he wore just a sweater and a pair of pants. You looked up at the sky, scrunching your face as snow hit your skin. Seungcheol chuckled as he watched, taking note of how beautiful you looked with fresh snow falling into your hair.

The entire pack was out in the yard, even little Jiwoo who was bundled up in multiple blankets and was being held on Minghao’s hip while her father was enjoying the snow. Most of the boys were in their wolf forms, running around, rolling in it, or trying to catch snowflakes in their mouths. Mingyu was rolling a ball of snow with his muzzle while he helped Danbi make a snowman. Minghao was softly talking to Jiwoo about how pretty the snow was as her large eyes looked around in wonder, it being the first time the young child had seen the white, fluffy stuff. Those of the pack in their human form were tossing snowballs at each other and others while they laughed loudly.

The only person who wasn’t playing in the snow – that you could see – was Joshua. He just said the last thing he wanted was to be pelted with cold things. You couldn’t say you disagreed with Josh.

“How is this fun?” you grumbled, looking back at Seungcheol as you blinked snowflakes off your eyelashes.

“Well just staring at it isn’t fun,” he told you. “Go make a snowman or a snow angel or–”

“_____!” you heard Chan call. You turned your head just in time to catch a snowball to the chest. You froze, staring at the same spot while the youngest giggled. “Come play with us!”

“Ah, maybe after she gets used to the snow, Chan,” Seungcheol told him pointedly as he grabbed your arms and pulled you over to where Wonwoo and Danbi were now making snow angels together. “Why don’t you stay with Wonwoo while I go get changed. He’ll make sure you don’t get hit with anything.”

Wonwoo nodded up at you from where he was squatting down on the ground, not even looking as he put up a hand to block the stray snowball coming his way. As soon as it splattered against the side of his arm, he let it down and looked back down at his sister on the ground.

“See? You’re in good hands,” Seungcheol grinned as he pressed a kiss to your temple before he went back into the house.

Mingyu, who was watching the siblings make snow angels, pressed his snow-covered nose against your cheek as he sniffed your face. Even that made you make a face and recoil away from him, shoving his furry face away.

“So,” Danbi sat up with snow in her hair, “you really have never played in the snow?”

Wonwoo chuckled at his sister as he began to brush the snow from her hair, saying, “Not everybody likes snow, Danbi. Lilly was allergic.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, “How can somebody be allergic?”

“I believe the doctor in town called it cold urticaria.”

“Excuse me?”

Wonwoo just laughed softly, shaking his head.

Seungcheol came back outside quickly, but he was in his wolf form this time. He ran up to you and nuzzled into your hair happily, excited to be able to play outside with his brothers. You couldn’t help but laugh at how happy he was, but it stopped when he moved his nose to nudge you in the side, moving you closer to the chaos of the pack.

“Whoa, what?” you asked as your legs were forced to move forward. “Seungcheol, I didn’t agree to this!”

Still, your mate continued to move your forward so you could properly experience the snow. Of course, the pack noticed this and started to get even more excited. Soonyoung bounded over to you, skidding to a stop and kicking up snow.

The first thing Seungcheol tried to get you to try was making a snowman. He started by poking a snowball on the ground with his nose, nudging it around until it started to roll into a bigger ball. He looked up at you expectantly before he gestured to the growing ball with his head.

You huffed, “Seungcheol this shit is cold. I don’t want to touch it.”

He let out a huff of his own before pointing at the ball sharply with his nose.

You grumbled to yourself about how you didn’t want to, but you did it anyway. You bent down and began rolling the ball around until Seungcheol decided it was big enough to be a snowman base. Then he helped you make the middle and managed to maneuver it on top of the first ball with his muzzle. Then he let you make the head and put that on as well.

Yeji had ventured into the woods earlier with Hansol and Junhui to find pebbles on the ground since the property was completely covered in snow. So she gave you a few from her pocket for eyes and buttons. Then Seungcheol trotted over with a stick in his mouth and handed it to you. You very un-enthusiastically jammed it in the poor snowman’s face. Your fingers were numb, your nose and cheeks were red, and you just wanted to go inside and curl up under some blankets.

To add insult to injury, the wolves were playing too rough with each other, and Junhui skidded straight into your snowman, knocking it over and causing its snow body to splatter on the ground. Seungcheol looked down at the dead snowman body before he growled and leaped at the younger werewolf, wrestling with him for ruining your hard work.

You wished you were the snowman.

You walked into your bedroom with a towel still between your hands as you dried your hair, damp from the snow. However, when you walked into your room, Seungcheol was in there, still without clothes on. He had shifted back downstairs while you went to go get a towel to dry your hair, and now he was digging through drawers to find new clothes for the both of you.

This wasn’t the first time seeing Seungcheol naked. You’d taken showers and baths together plenty of times. But for some reason, your cheeks were heating up – and not just because you had been playing out in the snow.

You walked over to your mate – you knew he could hear you enter – and wrapped your arms around his waist, pressing your nose into his back to warm it while your hands clung to his toned stomach, making him shiver from how cold they felt.

“I feel like an ice cube,” you whined.

“Yeah, you do,” he chuckled. “Do you want me to warm you up?”

You nodded, your nose rubbing against his back. Except, you were thinking of other means of warming up than he was. Most of the pack was still playing outside anyway.

“Alright, let me just find some–”

“Seungcheol?” when you spoke this time, your voice was a lot smaller than it had been.

“Hmm?”

“Y-you don’t have to, like…put clothes on if, y’know…this is more comfortable…”

Seungcheol laughed softly, turning in your arms to face you. He cupped your face between his hands, eyebrows raised, “Is this your way of telling me you want to do something?”

You’d done things with Seungcheol before, sure. But you’d never actually had ‘proper’ sex with him before. It wasn’t that you were scared or didn’t know how, you just always felt a little uncomfortable knowing that the rest of the pack would be able to hear you. But now that they were all preoccupied outside…

You nodded, “I’m cold, it’s for my health.”

“_____, you’re not going to get hypothermia,” he laughed, rolling his eyes playfully. “What do you want me to do?”

“Well…” you began slowly, trying to ignore the heat that was now crawling to the tip of your ears, “I-I think I’m ready for marking.”

Seungcheol’s eyes widened, though he looked more surprised than afraid. The statement just took him off guard. You’d never even mentioned marking other than when you asked about how it worked and if the pain was bad, but you hadn’t mentioned it in a while.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his hands stroking up and down your arms. “You don’t need to feel pressured or anything.”

“Seungcheol, I really want to,” you insisted. “I love you and I want to be yours.”

“You are mine, with or without a mark,” he promised, a soft smile on his face as he placed the bend of his finger under your chin. “Look at Danbi and Mingyu – she wasn’t marked for a long time.”

“I promise, Cheol, I’m asking because I want it.”

Seungcheol nodded, “Okay. Then I’d be more than happy to mark you as mine.”

He smiled as he leaned down to press his lips to yours, softly and playfully at first but slowly growing in intensity and desperation. Your back hit the mattress, making both of you giggle as he toppled down on top of you, making sure to catch himself with his hands as to not actually crush you. But still, his lips never left yours.

“Guess it’s a good thing you don’t have all those layers on anymore,” he chuckled against your lips, one of his thumbs stroking your cheek that was still flushed from the cold.

Seungcheol sat up just enough to pull your shirt off over your head. He let his eyes scan over your body, a warm grumble resonating in his chest as his hands wandered over your soft skin, “You’re so beautiful, you know that?”

“Only because you never stop telling me,” you laughed softly, rolling your eyes.

“And I’ll never stop telling you,” he insisted before he was leaning down again to meet your lips.

His lips moved feverishly against yours like he couldn’t get enough of you. One hand cupped your cheek while the other held him up, his tongue pushing passed your lips to explore your mouth. Your arms were around him, fingers tangled in his hair to keep him as close as possible.

Seungcheol’s lips began to trail downward, leaving open-mouthed kisses down your neck, nipping and sucking on your skin on their way. His hands moved to take your bra off, unclipping it behind you before sliding the straps down. That was tossed off the side of the bed, Seungcheol not even paying attention to where he threw it.

His lips went to one of your nipples, one hand massaging the other and brushing your nipple with his thumb. You moaned out his name softly, arching your chest up as your eyes fluttered closed. His tongue flicked over the hardening bud, looking up at you as he did so to watch every little movement from your face.

Seungcheol’s mouth continued its decent, his hands also moving downward to pull off your bottoms and underwear. You lifted your hips to help, and then he tossed those off the bed to join your bra on the floor.

Now, Seungcheol was laid down on his stomach between your thighs, pushing your legs open to make room for him. Seungcheol had seen you like this before already but it didn’t stop the heat rushing to your cheeks or the urge to close your legs and hide from his eyes that were locked on your heat as the yellow began to dot red.

“So beautiful…” he whispered, brushing his index finger through your folds before teasing your slit.

You whimpered softly, covering your face from embarrassment.

Seungcheol chuckled seeing your expression, dipping his head closer to you, “You’re cute when you’re shy.”

You felt his tongue lick a stripe from your slit to your clit, and you bit your lip to keep from moaning. Your hands went to his dark hair as his lips wrapped around your clit and sucked lightly, flicking his tongue over the bundle of nerves. You already knew what Seungcheol’s tongue was capable of, and yet, it still took you by surprise.

“Don’t keep in those noises, baby,” Seungcheol cooed as he teased his finger at your entrance again. He slowly slid it in, smirking a little at the way you said his name in a quiet moan. “The pack is outside and they’re not paying any attention – nobody will hear you.”

He began pumping his finger slowly, curling it to reach all the spots he’d learned you liked while his lips and tongue worked on your clit. You let out a moan that was a little louder this time, your hips starting to grind up into Seungcheol.

He added a second finger, curling them the same way as he pressed his tongue flat against your clit and let you grind against his face, growling softly as your hands tugged at his hair. He started scissoring his fingers in you, stretching you out for what was to come once he decided you were prepped enough. For now, he just wanted to enjoy the soft moans and mewls that fell from your lips.

You felt a knot starting to tighten in your lower abdomen, so you started rocking your hips faster. Seungcheol noticed the signs of your incoming release – your hips speeding up, the way your eyebrows knitted together, the way your whines started to get higher – and removed his fingers, sitting up and away from you. Had you not known Seungcheol planned on giving you exactly what you wanted very soon, you would’ve never let him hear the end of your complaining.

You watched as Seungcheol stuck his two fingers in his mouth, lapping up your juices as he smirked at you with red eyes, “You taste so sweet, princess.”

“Cheol…” you whined, covering your face with your arms.

He just chuckled, leaning down above you to move your limbs away from your face, pressing a kiss to your lips. He kissed you softly for a moment as to try to get rid of any nervousness you might’ve had before he gripped his member, stroking it a few times to get it fully hard before he was teasing your folds with the tip. He smirked at the way your hips wiggled and bucked up slightly.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, all of the playfulness melting away, “Are you ready?”

You nodded, moving your hands to grip his shoulders.

“Just tell me if you want to stop, okay?”

You nodded again, so Seungcheol lined himself up with your entrance. Then he was slowly pushing into you, letting out a soft groan and an even softer “fuck” as his head dropped into your neck. Your fingers dug into his shoulders as he stretched you out, your eyes squeezing closed. It definitely hurt a little but but not enough for you to want him to stop.

Once he was completely inside, he stilled, his lips brushing across your neck in small kisses to help you relax. When you finally gave him the okay, he moved at a slow pace, trying to make sure you weren’t uncomfortable in any way. You’d done other intimate stuff but he’d never been inside you – and he knew you’d never had sex before – so he didn’t want to hurt you. He was even honored you trusted him with this.

“You’re doing so well, baby,” he hummed, capturing your lips in a sweet kiss as his hips continued to rock at a steady pace.

You let out a quiet moan at his praise, your arms wrapping around his neck to keep him close to you. He smiled against your lips, the happy grumble in his chest vibrating against yours. One of his hands moved down your body, raising goosebumps until he reached your clit. His fingers worked circles into it, drawing soft mewls from you that were music to his ears.

“Do you feel okay?” he asked quietly.

You nodded, biting your lip softly. The pain had slowly gone away, leaving you with only pleasure that was slowly building the knot in your stomach back up. The look you gave him with your eyebrows knitting together in pleasure but your eyes almost begging him to do more was enough to almost send him over the edge, especially with how amazing you felt around him.

“You’re so pretty,” he whispered, using his thumb to gently tug your bottom lip from between your teeth. “My beautiful little mate.”

He sat up as his own orgasm began to approach, determined to get you to cum before he did. He knew it would distract from the pain of marking and that was his biggest priority. Seungcheol wanted to avoid hurting you at all costs, at least for your first time.

His fingers started moving quicker as he started aiming his thrusts into a new spot, making you moan out his name and grip the sheets beneath you.

“You’re doing so good for me, baby,” he moaned, his dark bangs sticking to his forehead with sweat. “Fuck… You take me so well; you’re so amazing.”

Your orgasm started to approach a lot faster than you thought it would, your moans and whimpers growing louder and more needy. Seungcheol could tell you were getting close from the way you clenched around him, but he couldn’t have you cumming just yet.

Seungcheol removed his fingers from your clit, placing both hands on your hips as he rolled his hips into yours. You whined, the quickly building high dying down a little bit because of the loss of stimulation.

“Just hold on a little longer, love,” he grunted, trying to get himself closer to his own high. His eyes closed as his head dropped back, the sight of his toned body shining from the light sheen of sweat on his body making him look godlike. “You feel so amazing, I’m almost there…”

Your high was still building with every thrust of Seungcheol’s hips, though. You pulled him back down to you, trying to distract yourself by leaving little kisses and love bites along the column of his neck and across his collarbones. Seungcheol groaned at the feeling, his hips suddenly sharply thrusting forward into you. With the burn of your orgasm approaching, you bit on Seungcheol’s shoulder – not enough to break skin or anything – to hold yourself back, clenching around him.

That was enough to tip him over the edge, one hand going back down to your clit and rubbing into it quickly. Your eyes squeezed shut as your body tensed with your orgasm.

“Let go, baby,” he said softly, but his voice was a growl.

It hit you harder than any other high you’d had, but it was the second wave that really got you. It came with a sudden sharpness in the crook of your neck, but it had you crying out Seungcheol’s name as your toes curled and your thighs locked around his hips. It felt amazing.

After riding out both of your highs, Seungcheol took his teeth out of you and dragged his tongue across the wound to help it heal. You whimpered at the feeling of him pulling out of you, his release and yours dripping slowly down your thighs.

“It didn’t hurt too much, did it?” he wondered.

“No,” you sighed, letting your fingers drag through Seungcheol’s dark hair. You smiled up at him softly when he pulled away to look at your face. “I love you.”

He grinned, bumping your nose with his own, “I love you, too. Thanks for letting me do this – it means so much to me.”

Your sweet moment was cut off by a knock at the door, which had Seungcheol’s head whipping around to look at the door.

“I want you guys to know,” Joshua’s voice came from the other side, “that I didn’t go outside, and I heard everything. Also, you’re lucky Seungkwan’s on his deathbed or you’d have two disgusted wolves here.”

Your face turned completely red as you hid in Seungcheol’s neck while he laughed at you.

“You said nobody could hear!” you whined.

“Yeah, well,” he shrugged, not seeming to care if his brother heard or not, “I guess I forgot about Josh.”

349 notes · View notes

tamakissimp · 4 years ago

Text

headcanons- secret santa

summary: they are their crush’s secret santa

characters: Tamaki, Bakugou, Kirshima, Denki, Shigaraki, Tokoyami

warnings: cursing, fluff

a/n: haha not me who keeps on forgetting Dark Shadow is a girl and NOT a boy haha

𝕥𝕒𝕞𝕒𝕜𝕚

𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕤: 𝟠𝟟𝟜

Panic. Pure panic overriding all his nerves. That's all Tamaki can feel as he stares at the note. Your note. He's happy though, that's the weird part. He has prayed that he got you as his secret Santa but now that he does, he can only think of all the way he can fuck this up. What if he gets you the wrong gifts? What if he accidentally offends you? What if-

"Tama, are you alright?" you ask. A deep blush shoots up to Tamaki's ears at the nickname. He can't even bring himself to nod. Instead, he buries his face against the closest surface. Which happens to be your shoulder.

Tamaki doesn't notice that this 'wall' is much warmer and softer than other walls. He doesn't notice that he has his head planted into your shoulder until you start petting his hair. His ears stand up and all he can do is a whimper and push his head further into your shoulder.

"Don't you like who you got? We can switch?" you offer.

"No!" Tamaki yells out. You're taking aback by his volume. His voice was never above a whisper but now it bounces through the room. Others classmates look up at you. You just wave them off and continue playing with Tamaki's hair.

"It's alright," you say. "Then we don't switch.". Tamaki nods before pulling his head away from you. He scans over your face. Your fingers keep on waving through his hair, even now that he is standing up straight again.

A soft smile plays on your lips. Your eyes twinkle with a certain kind of happiness that only your favourite elf-eared boy can bring you. Tamami's heart feels like it is going to explode. The warmth spreading through him feels like it's going to burn him alive, though that is the only way he would like to go.

"How about we get some takoyaki, mh?" you say. Tamaki nods. He can't stop the little whine from falling his lips as you pull your hand away from his hair. Tamaki just hums in agreement.

You smile at him before grabbing a hold of his upper arm and leading him away from the bustling group of classmates. Tamaki relishes in the feeling of your finger presses softly against his skin. God, he has never been more glad of wearing short sleeves.

☆◦ 。＼｜／。◦☆

Mirio keeps on thanking your way to long. You knew he was kind, but this was too much. "Mirio," you say in between his endless words of graduation. "It's just a mug.".

"So?" Mirio beams. "It's the best mug ever!". You roll your eyes at him. You turn yourself away from him, hoping that it will shut him up. If you knew he would react like this, you would have bought him a different present.

"Now, Mirio, you can choose the next gift!" someones says. You honestly have no clue who said it. Your mind is too caught up in Mirio's words. Mirio gladly grabs a lilac coloured bag from the heap of presents.

He smirks as he looks over at his elf-eared friend. All Tamaki can do is aggressively shake his head. Mirio just nods and hands the gift bag over to you. You follow his gaze to Tamaki. Mirio sticks his thumb up at his friends, causing Tamaki's cheeks to burn red.

You swat Mirio against his chest as you start to unpack your gift. Out of the bag comes hoodie. It's one that you're all too familiar with. You always steal it from Tamaki since it's so comfortable.

Tamami stares at you, eager to see your reaction. Everything in his mind tells him that you're going to hate it. You're going to spit on his gift and throw it at him. Instead, you smile as you pull the hoodie flush against your chest.

"I-I bought an-another....so we m-match," Tamaki says softly. You want to jump in his lap and cuddle him to death. But you know that the embarrassment of doing that in front of the entire class would be too much for Tamaki.

So, instead, just smile at him. As you unfold the hoodie more, two pieces of paper fall out of it. You grab them. "Good for one free takoyaki". The neat letters could only belong to one person.

"I-It'll be my treat," Tamaki says. You neatly fold the hoodie back up and place them into the gift bag again.

"You bet your ass that you're going out for takoyaki tonight," you say with a wink. Tamaki quickly looks down at the ground as a blush creeps up onto his ears. He brushes his hair down to hide his elf-like ears.

Once you've finished putting the hoodie back, you look around you. Mirio nudges you in your side. You nod at him as you grab a gift bag from the heap in the middle of all of you. You hand the bag over to Tamaki. He smiles softly at you as he notices one thing, the bag if your favourite colour.

He looks up at you. All he can take from the glint in your eyes is that you're damn well aware of the content of the bag. "Open my gift, Tama," you whisper.

𝕓𝕒𝕜𝕦𝕘𝕠𝕦

𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕤: 𝟟𝟟𝟡

Bakugou couldn't stop the curses flowing from his mouth as he saw the name written on his name. Izuku, it said in choppy letters. Like hell, he was going to have fucking Deku as his secret Santa. All eyes shoot towards him. He freezes as he catches your kind eyes boring holes into his.

"Fucking hate this shit," he grumbles out before storming off to his room. You all just look at each other with confused eyes. You have a suspicion about who he got. There was only one person in the room who could pull such anger out of him.

You lay a hand on Izuku's back. All he's doing is staring at the ground with puppy dog eyes. It was his idea to unite his and Bakugou's friend groups for secret Santa."Hey, don't look so sad," you say. Izuku looks up at you.

"I'm sure he'll cool off.". Izuku nods at your words before reaching towards the big glass bowl which Shoto is holding. He pulls a note out of it and opens it in a way to keep the name written on is secret from you. A smile pulls over his lips as he reads the name.

"I'm just...gonna go after him," Kirishima says before running off after his friend. No one has time to acknowledge his leave since the faux redhead sprints off.

Bakugou doesn't turn around. Not even when he hears his friend call his name time after time. He just throws some insults at him. Bakugou rips his dorm's door open with such force that it surprises him that he doesn't just rip the damn thing right off the wall.

"Bakugou, wait," Kirishima calls. Bakugou tries to slam the door shut behind him but it's stopped by Kirishima's foot. Splinters spring of the door due to the force at which it's being slammed into Kirishima's unbreakable foot. "Go. Away," Bakugou sneers.

"I got Y/n," Kirishima says. Suddenly, Bakugou rips the door open. He holds the note he pulled - which is now crumpled up - in front of Kirishima. "Switch," he demands. Kirishima happily nods as he grabs the note from Bakugou's hands. Bakugou rips your note out of his friend's hands.

Just the sight alone of your name, written in your handwriting for god sake, calm him down.Bakugou looks up from the note and up at his friend. Kirishima is just smiling at him like an idiot.

"Thanks," Bakugou mumbles before slamming the door shut, this time without his friend's foot keeping it open. Kirishima stands in front of Balugou's door for a moment. Did Bakugou just say thanks?

☆◦ 。＼｜／。◦☆

Mina's giggles sound through the room as she rips the wrapping paper off of her gifts. From behind the Christmas themed paper, a pair of fluffy socks appear. She squeals as she pulls the socks closer to her, rubbing her cheek along the soft fabric.

While everyone is gushing about how cute the polka dot socks are Denki is sitting back with a stupid smirk on his face. It's no surprise that he got Mina some amazing gifts. While he might not be gifted in some areas, he was a master in buying gifts.

"Y/n is next!" Mina says as she crumbles up the wrapping paper. Once it's balled up, she throws it and aims for Kirishima's head. He easily swats the balled up paper away while it's still in the air. He chuckles before turning towards you.

You smile as you grab the bag with your name on it. Black decorative paper sticks out of the top of the bag. You pull it out to reveal an array of gifts inside. You gasp as you grab the first present. It's a messily knit sweater, probably a tad bit too big for you, not that your mind. Orange and black stripes alternate each other. You run your fingers over the soft wool. It feels like your touches a cloud.

"Holy hell," you gasp out. You quickly pull the sweater over your head. The sleeves past your reach, almost touching your fingertips. While the stitches are a bit wonky, you don't seme to mind. You look around the group of friends. Most are admiring the intricate craftwork. Except for Bakugou. While he still holds his usual scoff on his lips there is still a blush dusting his cheeks. It's him.

His eyes glance over you. Seeing you in his colours made his heart do summersaults. A comforting warmth fills his chest up. "Thank you," you mouth to him. A smile tugs on his lips. You turn back to the giftbag in front of you and start to ravage through the other gifts he got you. Maybe this whole secret Santa thing wasn't so bad after all.

𝕜𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕞𝕒

𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕤: 𝟞𝟜𝟙

To say that Kirishima was excited was an understatement. When he heard that you were joining the so-called 'Bakusquad' for secret Santa, he almost jumped through the roof. Even now, when you two were talking about how funny it would be if Denki pulled Bakugou's name, he was jumping around.

Bouncing from one foot the other. He talks animatedly with his hands to let some energy go. He has almost smacked couple times already doing this.

"Y/n," Sero says. You look up at him. He's holding the glass bowl full of notes towards you. You reach in a grab one. You carefully fold it open. Kirishima, it says in curly letters. You smile as you look at your redhaired friends.

"And?" he asks before grabbing a note himself. You just shake your head.

"No," you say with a teasing smile. "It's called secret Santa for a reason.". Kirishima rolls his eyes at you before opening up his note. He has never been happier to see your name written on a piece of paper than now.

"Fine," he says. He stuffs the piece of paper in his pocket. "Than I won't tell you either.". Kirishima sticks his tongue out at you.

You swat his chest playfully before twirling on the ball of your foot. "Where are you going, pebble?" he asks. The nickname sends a wave of warmth running through your stomach.

"I'm gonna buy some presents, obliviously," you say before waving him your goodbyes. Kirishima stays still for a moment. He can hear Bakugou grumbling about the person he got in the background, but he pays his friend no mind. Instead, he's thinking about what would be the perfect present for you.

☆◦ 。＼｜／。◦☆

You honestly had no say in when you were going to open your gifts. Once Bakugou spotted the shark-themed gift bag, he knew that would be the first to be opened. Though he wouldn't admit it, Bakugou had a soft spot for Kirishima. He only smirked when he found out that the gift bag was meant for you. He knew of Kirishima's crush on you, everyone knew except you.

"Oh god," you say as you grab the bag from Bakugou's hands. All eyes are focussed on you, including Kirishima's. You pull the first gift out of the bag. It's a bag of candy. You quickly recognize the sugary snacks. You had pointed them out to Kirishima a couple of months ago. Apparently, he hadn't forgotten about them.

"These are so good!" you squeal out. Kirishima chuckles at your reacting. You look over at him. His vermillion eyes meet yours. Warmth floods through him as you maintain eye contact. You only break it to continue unpacking the various gifts he got you.

Socks, new headphones, a phone case, more snacks, and a copy of your favourite movie. Kirishima just bought all of your favourite things. All of them in a familiar shade of red. You beam up at him once you have all the items laid out beside you on the floor.

"Kiri, you shouldn't have," you say before crawling across the floor towards him. A bright blush dusts his cheeks that would put his hair to shame. Sit down on your knees in front of him and wrap your arms around his shoulder.

He manages to stammer out a 'you're welcome' as he wraps his arms around you, returning the hug. You pull away too soon for his liking but he can't keep his disappointment for long. Not when he sees you look over towards your gift with that goofy smile that he adores.

"Stop staring at 'em, dumbass," Bakugou gruffs as he grabs the gift bag with his name written on it. You quickly move back towards your original place, admiring all your gifts. You would have to repay Kirishima somehow. Maybe a date would do?

𝕕𝕖𝕟𝕜𝕚

𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕤: 𝟝𝟟𝟜

The universe hates Denki, or so it feels to him. Having a quirk that stupifies him, never having anyone be interested in him, constantly feeling like a burden. The universe just keeps on hurdling horrible things at him and hoping that it works out. Though, now he knows why. He had to build up some karma to be able to get to be your secret Santa.

He jumps around his room. His eyes dart over to the screen of his laptop every now and then. In the email he received were the words he hoped to see; your name. The bright letters illuminating his face have never felt so good.

Little lightning bolts shoot out of fingers at random, just nearly missing his furniture. He already stopped caring about the various burn marks tainting his walls, so he lets his quirk go wild.

"Yes, yes, yes!" he screams out. "Thank you!". He dances around his room until his door is violently ripped open. He freezes in an undoubtedly embarrassing pose. A fuming Bakugou stands in his door-opening.

"Shut. The. Fuck. Up!" He screams. "Not everyone needs to hear your whiny ass voice, dunce face!". With that, Bakugou slams the door shut behind him again.

Denki just lets out an uncontrollable giggle before letting himself fall down onto his bed. He is too blissed out to worry about what gifts to get you. Instead, his mind wanders to the different reaction you could have. Would you be happy? Would you happy that your secret Santa was him?

☆◦ 。＼｜／。◦☆

"Open it, open it, open it!" Kirishima demands. All you do is laugh as you slap his arm softly.

You had all agreed to hide the gifts around the school, instead of having a big get together to unpack everything. Due to this, you didn't think it was weird for Denki to have been following you around all day like a lost puppy. Kirishima joined him at some point since he wanted to know what we up with him.

Your fingers gently rip the bright yellow paper off of your gift. Inside of the paper is a little black bag. You roll your eyes as you open the bag up as well.

Inside, as a whole array of things. A couple of black chokers that look way too familiar, some face masks, a new pair of earbuds, a couple of snacks and two movie tickets.

You put two and two together once you glance up and see Denki. A smirk is plastered onto his lips as he patiently awaits your reaction. "Is this your way of asking me out for the movies?" you ask.

Shit. Shit fuck shit fuck. Did you not like it? Denki's blood runs gold. That is until you let out a laugh. God, he can listen to your laugh on loop for years.

"What if it is?" Denki asks. You grab the movie tickets out of the bag and hand him one of them.

"Then consider it a date," you say before placing a soft kiss onto his cheek. Denki is a hundred percent sure that he's dreaming. His fingers reach up to touch the place you just kissed. His cheeks heat up.

You giggle before walking away from him, towards your next class. The only thing that keeps Denki from fainting is Kirishima, who's jumping up and down at what just happened. The universe had really started to pay him back.

𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕘𝕒𝕣𝕒𝕜𝕚

𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕤: 𝟞𝟙𝟜

Fucking Toga. She knows that Tomura can't say no to her especially when she looks at him with puppy dog eyes. Still, he's wondering how she got Tomura of all people to participate in this secret Santa bullshit.

He doesn't pay the rest of the members much mind as they pick a note out of Compress' hat. He is just tapping away at his phone screen while playing some mindless shooter game.

"Boss.". He quickly turns his head. There you are. A stupid smile is plastered on your lips and you're holding Compress' hat out towards him. "You grab one.".

Tomura nods as he reaches into the hat, carefully not to use all his fingers to grab the note. Please don't be fucking Dabi. Please don't be fucking. Please don't-

Relief washes through Tomura as he sees your name written on the note. He looks back up at you. You're still smiling at him. He wants to deny the butterfly swarming around in his stomach but he can't.

"Happy?" you ask. Tomura quickly nods. You break down his whole 'I'm-the-toughest-guy-here' facade. You make the cold looks he give everyone melt. Instead of wanting to scratch his skin open, he now wants his fingers to softly roam your skin. To feel what reciprocated love feels like.

"Very happy," he says. Your smile grows a bit before you turn on the ball of your heels. Tomura's gaze follows you as you walk over to Compress to make him pick a note. "Very.".

☆◦ 。＼｜／。◦☆

Seeing the feared 'League of Villians' like this is honestly a pathetic sight. Toga and Twice are giggling like children. Most are drunk of their ass. The gifts being exchanged consist of either stollen stuff or homemade crafts. Though that doesn't make them any less heartfelt.

"Y/n, you're next up," Dabi says before taking another drag of his cigarette. The white smoke swirls around the air. It seeps out of his staples but he doesn't seem to mind. You nod as you reach over, grabbing a box with your name written on it.

It's just a cardboard box, nothing fancy. Though the choppy letters written on it feel familiar. Could it be- No, don't be stupid. You open the box up. A gasp leaves your lips as you look at the contents.

Maybe it's the alcohol rushing through your veins but you have never been so emotional over a gift. You grab the gift inside. A baby blue blanket lays in your hands. It's a weird, patchworked, blanket though that doesn't make it any less beautiful to you.

"Shiggy.". You can't stop the nickname as it falls off your lips. Shigarki's cheeks heat up. Normally, he has Father to cover his cheeks up. Now he resorts to tilting his head down and letting his hair do the work.

You run your fingers over the stitches piecing together the different kinds of fabric. Without thinking, you wrap the blanket around your shoulders. "This is amazing," you say.

Heatwaves through Tomura's stomach. It makes his heart do flips inside his chest. A smile spreads over his lips.

"I love it, thank you so much," you say. Tomura simply nods at you, leaning towards you a bit.

"You're welcome," he says. Most people in the room are shocked at his sudden kindness though they don't bring it up. The fear of being dusted on the spot is greater than their curiosity.

He can't keep his gaze of you as he sees you cuddle up in his blanket. Something about seeing you in something that so clearly screams Tomura Shigaraki makes him feel appreciated, loved even.

Maybe this whole secret Santa thing isn't bullshit after all.

𝕥𝕠𝕜𝕠𝕪𝕒𝕞𝕚

𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕𝕤: 𝟜𝟠𝟛

"C-Come on guys! Pick an n-note!" Izuku says. Shoto and Momo reach over to grab a note out of the pile laying on the table. It's a miracle that Izuku got everyone in class 1-A to participate in secret Santa. Even Bakugou agreed. The same Bakugou who hates Izuku's guts.

"I hope I get you," you say as you nudge Tokoyami's side. His cheeks heat up underneath his feather. He lets out a soft chuckle to cover up his nervousness.

He reaches for the pile after you. He awaits your reaction before opening his note. A smile spreads over your lips as you read the name written on your note. You look up to meet his eyes.

"Come on, open it," you urge on. Tokoyami nods. He folds the note open to reveal your name. He looks back up at you. You just stand there with the smile still present on your lips.

Heat swells up in Tokoyami's heart. For a second, he loses his control on his quirk and Dark shadow jumps out of his body. The shadow lurks over his shoulder and stares at the paper in Tokoyami's hands.

"Wow,' you say. Dark shadow looks down at you. She leans her head down towards you. You eagerly start petting her cold head. It feels weird, touching a being made out of shadow.

Tokoyami just stares at you while you interact with Dark shadow. It always surprises him how gentle you are with her. If he could smile, he would. All he does is wonder about how he can give you the perfect gift.

☆◦ 。＼｜／。◦☆

You pull pitch black wrapping paper of the box with eager fingers. You tap your feet on the ground as you lift the lid of the box. A smile tugs on your lips as you look at the content.

Everything is dark themed, almost gothic. You quickly look up at Tokoyami. All he does is intensely stare at you. You let your fingers rake over the items inside.

A keychain, some snacks, a pair of socks, a scarf. Everything you could ever need. "Toko," you say. The nickname sends a flush of heat rushing through Tokoyami's veins. "This is perfect.".

"Isn't it just all stuff he likes?" Denki asks, earning a smack against his head from Bakugou. You smile at the two before leaning over to Tokoyami. You gently place a kiss onto his beak.

Tokoyami's body tenses at the action, though not in a bad way. he wants to pull you closer to him and beg for more kisses but he keeps his self-control.

"Really, this is amazing," you say. Tokoyami nod at you.

"I'm glad you like it," he says in a cool tone. It surprises him that he is able to keep his cool so easily. Especially since you just gave him a fucking kiss. He should definitely buy you gifts more often.

317 notes · View notes

horrortamer-archive · 3 years ago

Text

=> Valkyrie: The End Of The Beginning

[Special thank you to @smearrps @edwarddidntdeserveher and @shrubrp for proof reading and help editing this! This short story ending has been in the works for months now and I'm very grateful for their help.]

[Warning! This story includes body horror, eye/face horror, abuse victim blaming and possession. It's very long.]

_______________________________

You're tired of being the main character. You never asked for this. You never wanted it. You are sick of it.

There is so much attention and pressure constantly. YOU were chosen by Glub. YOU were chosen to become orphaner. YOU were chosen by the gods. YOU must save the world and bring mercy to the people. But YOU are tired of it. What will YOU do?

YOU are tired of waiting.

YOU are going to end this.

All talks with other rebellion leaders had ended. Everyone had gone silent due to the recent arrest and execution of one of your allies. You, Valkyrie Ampora, are restless. At first, you took this moment of quiet as a blessing. You were going to marry Porrim and start life together before you finished your job. However, you now see it as a curse. It's an aching silence. Now you have no plans for the future. Yes, you have people who love you dearly, but you have no plan. There is no promise of a future anymore. So, now that you know you have no future, why not take a risk? Might as well die for this cause and show the empire how much you fucking hate it.

You and your allies had talked about multiple murder attempts of the empress and grand many times before. You had insider information on these two specifically, having worked closely with them in the past as a politician. You knew exactly where the Grand Highblood lived, worked, and went in his free time. You knew he spent as much time as possible in a slinky little juggalo bar called The Alley on the outskirts of the capital city. People tend to drool and fawn over others with power and he knew he could use that power to get as many one night stands as possible. He used to be quite upset that that power didn’t work on you.

Yes, Kurloz was the number one big chuckle now, but he wasn’t a man of much luxuries. He stayed true to the juggalo religion and stayed close to all the practitioners who wished to reach out to him. He was vocal, personal and relatable. On paper, he was a man of the people. Holy shit did people eat that up. You knew that in reality, Kurloz was a sleeze ball. He lacked morality. If offered money to say something, he would sign the contract and ensure the sponsorship for that agenda kept on steadily. If there was a product, he was on it to promote that the company was Juggalo Safe. He was a charm and flirt who boasted his body count to any who got him tipsy enough - which, actually, wasn’t all too difficult. He was a dick and you hated him. You knew that his leadership was part of Alternia’s eventual decline.

You had no real plan. All you knew was that before the sun rose, the purple blood would be there.

You’re on the roof of a building across the street, on your belly with your rifle in your hands and your eye peeking through the scope. Usually, you would use a laser rifle for precision, but with lasers there is always a risk of survival. You’ve chosen an old vintage rifle that used physical ammo. Sadly, they don’t make silencers for these things anymore, so you just had to pray. Your body was tense yet mellow. Anxious but patient. If no one else is going to complete this job, you will on your own. It’s been hours and you’ve been still. Silent. No one has noticed you, and no one will notice you until you take the shot. You only have one chance. You will not fuck this up.

Finally, the time arrives. You have no idea how long it has been, but it feels like an entire day has passed. A group of loud purplebloods approach the door. The second tallest of the group you can identify by his big curly hair and his skull face paint, already bleeding off his face from the sweat of a pregame. If you really focused, you could see the beads of sweat, dragging white paint down his face and down his neck and on to his raggedy shirt. You can’t hold this anticipation for much longer. You have been here all day. You need to put his bastard in the grave right now. This is your time. Shoot him. Shoot him. SHOOT HIM--

The millisecond before you pulled the trigger, he turned from you and stepped forward. The millisecond after, everyone around him turned towards the noise. Towards you. They see you. He froze in fear right before the bullet penetrated the back of his head. As far as you knew in that moment, The Grand Highblood, Kurloz Makara, was dead and you needed to get the fuck out of there.

You could hear the screams of terror as you ran back into the building. Everything around you felt fake. Unreal. A blur. You did it. You finally fucking killed him all on your own. Now how were you going to get out of this mess? You kept running down the stairwell before you realized that his posse physically saw you and where you were. They may not have recognized exactly who you are, but they saw you run the fuck back into the building. You scurried back up the stairs to the roof and, you figured, today is a day full of god damn risks.

So you backed up and you got a running start. You thank the gods for your long legs as you jumped from the top of the building across to the roof of a corner store. You land on your feet, tumbling forward and rolling with the remaining momentum. Quickly, you slide off the top of the store and into the alley beside it. Then you just start running. You have no sense of direction, all you know is away. You have to get away.

The back alleys behind these buildings were disgusting. They hadn’t been maintained in sweeps. These back ways belonged to the apartments and rentals of warmer bloods whom the government had slummed here, out of view. As you heard the heels of your boots click along the pavement and you looked around, there was a nostalgic feeling. You used to be so small you could hide under boxes to protect yourself from the elements in the alleys of a city much like this one. You used to skitter around in darkness with your old moirail, Aranea. She hid you away from adults of whom she said would take you and give you to the cruel people who had put her there, lususless in the dark with only you. You didn’t know when you had stopped running. You stood there alone in the alley. Not even the moons could see you. As far as you knew, you were safe. Safe for now.

You allowed yourself to take deep shallow breaths, catching up with the stamina you had used. You stood there, listening to the world around you as you allowed your muscles to relax. You’re okay now, you think. You take your palm husk out of your pocket to text your first mate and you instantly regret it. You’re blinded by the light and it shone in the dark, acting like a flashlight. Almost immediately, you heard movement.

You tried to move as fast as you could, but it wasn’t fast enough. There was a sound of something wheezing through the air before you felt a sharp pain in your right shoulder. You quickly reached with your left arm to rip out whatever the object was, only to find an arrow in your hands. From your knowledge, it’s not tipped with anything. Just a flesh wound. And, with that, you turned to keep running. You knew then that at least one of those fucks knew exactly where you were, but you couldn’t stop running. You were a big target, and the only way out of this is if you created distance between you and the person in the shadows following or if you got them to show themselves and fight before their backup arrives, but you feel the fact that you were fucked deep in your bones.

It wasn’t long before they had chased you to the spot where they wanted you. You were so focused on running and trying to get away that you didn’t see the clown that was about to come out from the shadows and hit you until the last second. A bat that lacked the traditional spikes (thank fuck) hit you right in the face. You fell backwards onto your back and to the grungy floor below. You could immediately feel that your nose had been at least fractured. You immediately went to guard your face with your arms before the attacking clown had another moment to make contact again with their bat. You heard a deep voice shout, but you could not understand. Other voices replied and made conversation. Whether it was due to your panic or it was a language you didn’t know, you could not understand what they were saying. All you could understand was how tense your muscles were and how your blood pushed through your veins and in your ears. You had to find a way out of this. This couldn’t be it.

You feared this was how it would end. You would die how you had lived. Scared, hiding away in alleyways, trying to evade death and other highbloods in fear that they would take you or kill you. Only some things have changed since then. You have killed Aranea, your only protector. You have learned to fend for yourself. You have grown up. You have fought. You have loved. You have survived. You are persistent. Oftentimes it feels as if you have beaten death at his own game, but tonight you fear him. And yet? You are ready for him. You are tired of being the main character. You are tired of suffering for the narrative. You want to be free. To be happy. You fear that you will only find that in death.

A purple blood somehow taller than you lifts you by the horns and holds you up against a wall. She is screaming in your face. You don’t understand anything she’s saying. All you can understand are your title and your deadname. They know who you are despite how you’ve changed. You peek out from your arm and you see how high you are off the ground. You feel small. You feel young. You can’t wait for Aranea to save you anymore. The clown makes a comment about how much money is on your head. They can’t kill you now. You must be turned in to the empire. You must suffer for your anarchy. For your rebellion. Insubordination.

You will be tortured and executed for your crimes against the empire.

There was just an inkling of hope in your heart. You hoped that something would come to save you, just like before. When you were young and imprisoned for the crimes you had committed to survive. Back then, you were saved by your former master, who served me. The woman who built you up and taught you there is more to fight for than just survival. She taught you to speak to me. Nowadays, you fight for more than just survival. You have fought to try and make this world a better place. You started with me. Before you, I held no sympathy for living creatures besides those who I could speak to. You used your gift of communication to teach me sympathy and empathy. You taught me there are beings out there that deserve life. You taught me the struggles that mortals face. How the world that serves me harms you and harms those who just want to rest. You taught me sadness. You have taught me so much. In return, I have taught you to access the void. How to protect yourself from it. How to reach out farther than any orphaner before you. I have protected you and you have fed and protected me.

I am tired, as well. I am billions of sweeps old. I contain knowledge that mortals would go insane upon learning. I have been shoved into what is essentially a fish tank by those who wish to play god. I gave you an impossible mission. You tried to the best of your ability to complete it. Deep down, I knew you would never be able to complete it, but I was shocked at how hard you fought anyways. On the other end of this mission was a promised happiness. I promised goddesshood and a life worth living, and you fought tooth and nail for your freedom. OUR freedom. Even when you had lost hope, you fought for something. Even when you felt there was no future, you fought for something. I am grateful.

For this, I thank you.

For this, I will save your life once more. Though, sadly, this comes at a price for both of us.

Your whole body begins to ache. You are in agonizing pain. It feels like your body is ripping apart as the void fills it. Yet, you do not scream. You are calm. You feel me touching your heart and filling you with all of me. Rest, I told you, I will take everything from here. You relinquish control to me.

The arms covering your face relax to your sides as your whole body starts to ease. All you can hear now are confused murmurs as you feel yourself drift away into sleep.

I saved you the only way I knew how to. Your whole adult life, you have covered yourself in tattoos and symbols in honor of me. You fought the idea of praising any specific gods, and yet, you have dedicated your body to serving me. This allowed me to do what I had to. I raised your arms and made your hands grip the enemy clown’s wrist. Your claws dug into their wrist before trying to pull their wrist apart. Their screams mean nothing to me.

Your head rises back up and I see the fear in the huge purple’s face. I spot from the corner of your eye that a smaller clown is trying to run. I automatically assume, of course, that they were running to get help or to warn possible backup. So, I did what I felt made the most sense.. Your claws let go of the clown’s wrist and they immediately let go of you, your knees hitting the ground. The tentacle tattoos on your right arm looked as if they were moving by magic, before my appendages burst out of your shoulder, severing your arm from your body. White tentacles grew rapidly, allowing me more physical control of your body. I forced your body back onto its feet and continued to push white tentacles from the open wound. I reached out to the closest being, my appendages around their neck, squeezing as tight as I could manage until I felt a dirty, visceral crack.

The world around us blurs. To be honest, I believe I, too, have lost myself. I reached out to our next victim and pulled them close. Your teeth sunk into their throat, ripping it out, discarding them on the wet, grimy street.. Even through the blur, I see more people fleeing. Your body falls to the ground as white tentacles burst from your right hip, shedding your right leg and leaving it behind. Your right eye pops out as more white tentacles sprout. It’s at this moment that I realize…

I am hurting you. I am no longer helping you. I have lost control of myself and your body. Every time your life is in danger and I step in to help I always hurt you. I’m so sorry, my child. I must fix this.

Smaller tentacles sprout from your skin, only tearing it just enough to make more room for the rest. Violet blood pours down your face and pools on the ground. The only thing I can think to do is crawl away and put you in a safer spot. Your body moved in a pathetic crawl, your arm, your leg and my tentacles working together to try and find safety, leaving behind only a trail of your blood. I find a spot where not even the moons can see your body, and I let you rest.

I call out to the void, begging for help.

Someone will answer.

It will be okay.

Your next life will be happier, my child. I promise.

#Action Post.#The End of The Beginning.

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babydaddyleorio · 4 years ago

Text

The Forbidden Mark

pairings: gojo x black!fem OC

word count: 2,303

summary: Rae was many things, but she drew the line at ever becoming a sorcerer. She was set on distancing herself from that life, but when a bothersome curse and a certain sorcerer crossed her path, It became apparent that she could run from It no more.

warnings: slight cursing, third person p.o.v, OC main character, unedited

additional notes: new series idea! not sure if I'm going to pursue this or not, but I really liked how the first chapter turned out so we’ll see.

Chapter One

Rae pulled her box braids in a secured bun as she stared indignantly at herself through the smudged mirror. She was beyond ready for her shift to be over at the esteemed club “Jinx”, but her boss, much to her dismay, ordered her to do overtime. She had been working since 1 that afternoon and was scheduled to get off at 10 p.m, but as she looked at the rusted clock hanging on the wall it read that it was currently midnight. It’s not like overtime was a complete drag since Rae did need to stack up on extra cash, but she still had a life of her own. She didn’t want to spend all of her time overworking herself for a few bucks, but the way things were looking, It seemed like this was just her fated path. A chime resounded from behind Rae, making her shift her eyes on the reflective glass towards the bright fluorescent lights now flooding the locker room.

“Rae, Narco needs you to serve this table right now. I offered to take your place since I knew you needed a breather, but Narco insisted that It was you who took care of them.” Jasmine, Rae’s co-worker and good friend announced while holding the door open. Rae rolled her eyes at her boss’s request and adjusted the fanny pack around her waist before turning to Jasmine with a fake smile.

“Thanks for looking out for me, Jas. You’re a real one.” Rae nodded with a sigh and walked past her, too deep in her own thoughts to notice the sympathetic expression that had come across her co-worker’s face.

On the other side of the club, Gojo sat in one of the leather booths with his legs crossed and an obvious bored expression on his face as he rested his head on the palm of his hand. He was tasked to come and scope out this bustling club that catered towards the rich and high status criminals and find the special grade curse that lurked among them.

Gojo yawned.

Clubs like these were never his style and the flashing lights and blaring music never failed to give him anything short of a massive headache.

Gojo whistled as he surveyed the vast crowd of individuals, sipping on the drink he had ordered from the bar not too long ago. Upon scanning the dark club for his designated culprit, he found himself halting once he saw a woman come from the back room and make her way through the dancefloor. She looked to be just another waitress to the simple eye, but the anomaly that caught Gojo’s attention was a curse blob that was attached to her back. He knew that he currently had a mission at hand, a rather important one at that, but he also was aware that If he left the curse attached to the waitress alone It would end up consuming her.

Gojo exhaled dramatically and stretched his limbs as he stood up from his seat.

Exercising one little curse wouldn’t hurt, right?

Meanwhile, Rae persistently pushed through the dancing bodies and to her relief, finally made It out the sea of intoxicated people. It was times like these where she questioned If this job was really for her and If it would be more beneficial if she just threw in the towel.

However, when that thought occurred she’d always snap out of It because she knew that she had to keep pushing for Amari, even If said job was stressing her out on all accounts.

“Dang, my back is killing me.” Rae muttered to herself, feeling as if something heavy had suddenly glued itself to her. This pain had been bothering her all day and she briefly wondered If she should spoil herself with a massage when she got home. Nonetheless, she shook that uneasy feeling off and continued to walk towards the section her boss told her to serve. They were in a back desolate corner and as she got closer she could hear the loud and raunchy club music start to fade and a more classical song took its place.

She sucked her teeth. These people must be really important, she thought to herself as she walked up the few spiraling steps and opened the veil to the entrance of the secluded area . Upon which, she saw her boss sitting across from the man who she assumed was the customer.

“Rae, so glad you could make It!” Her boss said with a raspy voice and the biggest smile when he caught sight of her. Narco was a very bony man, with greasy blonde hair that stopped at his shoulders, and a mouth full of artificial gold that shined every time he spoke. Rae learned over the past year while working here that Narco was a rotten and crooked man who would have no problem selling himself if it meant earning a quick buck.

“I want you to serve our special guest here with your utmost respect and give him everything he requests.” Narco chirped loudly, his attention now pulled back to the man in front of him. It took everything within Rae to resist rolling her eyes at Narco’s overly sweet tone as she walked towards the table while getting her notepad out.

“Of course, sir.” Rae nodded while clicking the black pen in her hand. “Hello, my name is Rae and I'll be your server for tonight, what can I get you?” She said politely and when she looked up from her notepad, she tensed from the customers' harsh glare. Her boss’s phone suddenly rang and he ended up quickly excusing himself from the room, leaving Rae and the customer to be the only ones left in the area.

The customer, now that she thought of It, undoubtedly gave her a bad vibe. The man in front of her had long, burgundy hair that was pulled back into a low ponytail and he was clad in an all black suit that was slightly unbuttoned, displaying the black tattoos that decorated his chest and neck. He sat comfortably with one arm thrown lazily behind his neck and the other balled on the table, his narrowed green eyes piercing Rae’s brown face.

“Do you know who I am?” Were the words that finally left the man’s mouth.

Rae scrunched her face up in confusion because she indeed did not know who this weirdo was, nor did she really care. This is exactly why she hated working night shifts because she always had to deal with creeps like these and the situation was even less ideal since her boss had left the area.

“No.. I’m afraid I don’t.” Rae admitted, making the man across from her erupt in obnoxious laughter.

“That explains why your presence felt so weak to me when you first arrived. No matter,” The man’s playful demeanor suddenly ceased and he turned to Rae, a dark shadow now casted onto his face. “My name is Hitomi.”

Rae tensed up because the atmosphere in the room had changed to something suffocating and the feeling in her gut told her that this man was dangerous. She debated If she wanted to avert the situation back to her serving him or to get the hell away from him.

The latter, at this moment, seemed like the best option.

She awkwardly cleared her throat as she took a step back, already formulating an excuse in her mind as to why she needed to leave.

“Freeze.” The man spoke lowly and as if on cue, Rae’s body went still.

The man that went by Hitomi got up from his seat and ran his hand through the hairs that framed his face, revealing a scar that fell diagonally across his right eye. Rae struggled to move, and no matter how hard she willed herself to open her mouth or clench her hands, she stayed in the exact same spot.

“I’ve been looking-” The man spoke suddenly, making Rae move her eyes back to him, “-for a very long time for the jewel that I was missing and I can proudly say that tonight I finally hit the jackpot. See, our meeting tonight was no mere coincidence, it was planned and fated to become. That’s why I came to this place for one reason and for one reason only,” Hitomi slowly sauntered towards her immobile body, licking his bottom lip in the process. “and that reason was you, Rae.”

Hitomi then stood directly in front of Rae with an evil glint swirling through his jade eyes and reached his hand out towards her, but a force abruptly pushed him back, causing his body to be thrown into the table that he was previously seated at.

“That’s enough.” A tall and slender man with messy, white hair and sunglasses hiding his eyes challenged as he peeled back the curtains to this area. Rae stood in the center, now shaken up by Hitomi’s words and by not having the autonomy to move. It was also alarming having seen his body fly across the room without having any witness of something touching him.

“And just who are you?” Hitomi sneered at Gojo as he slowly stood from the spot he had fallen to, dusting his suit off in the process.

“My name is of no importance, all you need to know is that I’m the guy who’s going to be exercising you.” The man curtly replied while rolling up his sleeves and walking closer to him.

Rae knew immediately what was happening just by hearing the white haired man say the words “exercise”. She was familiar with the idea of sorcerers and curses so applying her knowledge to her current situation made all the puzzle pieces fall together.

“But before I handle you,” The white haired man started, then turned his eyes towards the waitress standing in front of him. “I have to do this first.”

Rae suddenly felt a strong wind hit her back, causing her to jolt forward and escape the trance she was put in by Hitomi. Not only could she freely move her body again, but the gnawing feeling of pain that Rae felt on her back from earlier had also seemed to disappear. She turned her body around to see the white haired man wink at her and direct his attention back towards the curse, specifically the curse he was after.

“And this is why I despise you sorcerers, you lot are too confident in your weak abilities. ” Hitomi laughed while staring amusingly at Gojo. Gojo kept silent as he ignored the curse's meaningless words and inched closer towards it, the thought of exercising being the only prevalent thing on his mind.

Hitomi sighed out loud, disappointingly.

“However, judging by your presence, I can tell that you may be more of a problem than I estimated. I guess my plan to take the girl won’t be carried out as soon as I thought.” Hitomi mused and then snapped his fingers soon after. A portal aggressively opened up behind Hitomi, and the intensity of it’s force made the furniture rattle and fall, Rae struggle to move, and Gojo’s feet to become heavier.

Gojo debated If he wanted to use his domain expansion, but he saw that the girl behind him had lost her grip that she had on a chair and started to fly towards the portal. Gojo sucked his teeth with irritation and grabbed her body before she was consumed by it.

“This was fun, but sadly our encounter has to end. Do not worry because I will be back for you, Rae.” Hitomi spoke with a crooked smile on face, and stepped backwards into his portal. Before Gojo could even reach him, the hole had already sealed itself back up and the room now only had him and the disheveled waitress of this club who laid in his arms.

“Are you alright?” Gojo tiredly asked the woman only for her to roughly shrug him off of her.

“Don’t touch me!” The waitress hissed while standing up on wobbly legs. Gojo stared at the upset woman disinterestedly and got up from his position on the floor as well.

“Listen,” Gojo began. “That curse was way more intelligent than I initially thought. I think It would be in your best interest to come with me so I can safely look after you.”

Rae looked at the white haired man as if he had lost his mind.

“Look after me? You and that curse can go to hell. In fact It would be in my best interest if the both of you left me alone.” Rae snapped as she quickly moved past him. As Rae was on her way out of the area completely, she was so lost in thought that she ran straight into her boss’ chest, and when she looked up he stared back at her with a worried expression.

“What happened here?” He questioned incredulously once he saw the mess on the floor, causing him to rush and open up the curtains that would display the rest of the room’s debris. Rae turned around to get the man with the white hair to explain the damages that had transpired, but to her surprise, he had disappeared into thin air just as the cursed man did.

Rae stood behind her boss, now realizing how terrible this all looked on her behalf. The valuable customer and his money were now gone and the whole area was in shambles. She gulped as her boss turned to her with a red face and comical steam shooting from his ears.

“I don’t know what all went on here,” Rae’s boss fumed, causing her to look at him with wide eyes because she already knew what was coming next. “But you’re fired!”

#Jujutsu Kaisen #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jjk imagines #Gojo #gojo satoru #gojo imagine #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x oc #gojou x reader #gojou x oc #gojo x black reader #gojou x black reader #gojo satoru x black reader

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alirhi · 3 years ago

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okay. let's do this shit.

Guess what, bitches? Mama bear's back and angry all over again. Remember when I said I might dive into a ragepost about how Bucky's treated after completing the one about Loki? This is it. This is the post. Welcome to fucking Thunderdome.

I will actually try to keep it civil. No promises, but I'll try. and I will not be accepting "constructive criticism" about my rage. Just so we're clear.

Got it? Good. Let's dive in.

In case you don't want to read the whole thing (I know I get wordy) here's what this whole post will boil down to: BUCKY NEVER HAD A FUCKING CHOICE. NEVER. NOT ONCE IN HIS ENTIRE ADULT LIFE.

Now, quick reminder: I don't read comics. I know nothing about Bucky's comic canon, except what Sebastian liked to bring up as often as possible during TWS/CW promotions: at some point, Bucky boned Nat. XD Since Bucky only exists as a Marvel property, I won't be bitching about other source material being disrespected like I did with Loki. This is all MCU, my dudes. And honestly? That's enough, because though we don't see nearly enough of Bucky for my liking, we do manage to get a rich, deep backstory to him in the material we're given, partly thanks to better writing in the early days of the MCU, and partly thanks to Sebastian Stan's phenomenal acting. Unlike the writers of the Loki series, Seb knows how to show, not tell. And gods, what stories those eyes show...

Let's start with the army. In an old post illustrating what an absolute BAMF Bucky Barnes truly is, I mistakenly said he enlisted, and a kind soul educated me on the incredible attention to detail Marvel used to pay - in this case, Bucky's ID number. 32557038. As this kind, eagle-eyed soul pointed out to me, the first two digits of that number - 32 - signify that Bucky was drafted, specifically from the NY, NJ, DE area (that last part is rather obvious, as Bucky and Steve are from Brooklyn lol). Bucky didn't choose to go to war. He was drafted. He was forced to fight, or go to prison.

Bucky was born in 1917, which means - again, as someone pointed out to me a while back - he came of age during the Great Depression. As a child, he would likely have seen his parents living comfortably and able to shower each other and him and his sister with gifts and fun memories, and then POOF. Stock market crashes when he's only 12-years-old, and life becomes brutal and painful. He manages to have some fun with his best friend Steve, and spends his teens/early 20s chasing girls and keeping his stupid, stubborn, tiny friend from getting beaten to death.

Steve constantly has something to prove. He's absolutely got what my mom always called "little man's disease", and Bucky's just doing his best not to roll his eyes too much at this asthmatic chihuahua constantly trying to beat up Tibetan mastiffs. While Steve keeps lying on his enlistment forms (an actual crime) trying again and again to get into the army and prove what a badass he is (definitely not), Bucky's had enough trauma and upheaval in his life and he just wants his stupid friend to calm tf down and live. Enjoy the fact that he doesn't have to go to war and get his limbs blown off.

And then he gets fucking drafted. This sweet, resigned realist who knows exactly how dangerous the war really is, is forced to put on a uniform and go fight strangers alongside other strangers thousands of miles from everything he knows. And on his last night of freedom, when he just wants to hang out with his friend, see some cool gadgets, and dance with a pretty girl, his stupid angry chihuahua friend feels the need to lie and try to enlist again.

Okay. Gotta get back on track. Ragepost about mistreatment of Bucky, not how much Steve annoys me. Sorry. Anyway...

Bucky's drafted, accepts his shitty lot with a brave smile, and is shipped off to Europe, where he is captured by HYDRA and presumed by the Allies to be KIA. Instead, he's strapped down, tortured, and given the HYDRA version of the super serum against his will. Steve rescues him, and Bucky knows he can't leave his idiot friend to his own devices to get his head blown off, so he dives right back into the fray. And then he falls off a cliff, loses most of his left arm, and is declared dead...again. This one's pretty damn valid, though lol. Without the serum no one knew he'd been shot up with, there is no way he would have survived that fall.

Here is where Bucky's story gets truly heartbreaking: His autonomy, his ability to consent is stripped from him through electroshock torture/brainwashing. The trigger words are conditioned into him during this process, and boom. Ten words in Russian, and Bucky Barnes is gone. Even the confused, hurting shadow of him is gone, leaving only a perfectly obedient killing machine, with Bucky's pretty face. He's strong as all hell, though, so they can't keep him fully under their control for long, not without more torture, when the disorientation of being fucking frozen wears off on longer missions.

I cannot stress this point enough, guys: Bucky. Had. No. Choice. Not like the draft, where his choices (go and get shot at, refuse and go to jail, or dodge and run to Canada) just suck. No, he literally didn't have a choice. He had his ability to choose stripped from him. If that's too complex a concept to really sink in, try this: His brain was fucking raped. Repeatedly. For decades. Nothing the Winter Soldier ever did was Bucky's fault. Nothing. Ever. Not remotely, no matter how you fucking slice it. Bucky is not an assassin. I almost said "not a killer", but he was a soldier, and a sharpshooter. He definitely killed when he was himself, but that was in a war, not a series of assassinations.

So far, imo, so good. This is just a rundown of Bucky's pre-show backstory. I don't love what he had to suffer, but I do love how it was treated in the movies. People were afraid of him, but when they knew the whole situation, Steve, Nat, and Sam rallied behind him. Natasha had plenty of reason to want the Winter Soldier dead; he'd tried to kill her multiple times and almost succeeded. Sam had no reason to help Bucky at all; he didn't know him, didn't trust him, and again, TWS had tried to kill him. But he stood by Steve, and when Bucky showed the clear difference between himself and TWS, Sam stood by him, too, and fought alongside him.

And it's very realistic, imo, that Tony didn't give a single fuck that Bucky had no choice. He watched this man murder both of his parents on tape. If TWS had killed my dad and I saw proof of it, I'd try to kill Bucky, too. Grief wins out over logic. Most emotions usually do. And that's a very important point we're going to come back to in a few minutes.

Bucky was really only in like ten minutes at most of IW and Endgame, and for multiple reasons I hate those movies, so I'm just gonna skip them, kay? Kay. On to the main event!

Here's where I get pissed off. Even if I didn't have an unhealthy attachment to this character, or the depth of appreciation for his tragic backstory that I do, the lack of continuity between the movies and the show alone would still piss me off. It always does. Don't even get me started on Joss "Continuity? What continuity?" Whedon and his (iconic, but flawed) shows. Ahem. Back on track...

Let me just get one little thing out of the way real quick: I fucking LOVE The Falcon and the Winter Soldier. I love it. This show amazed me when I first watched it, and I still love it after many more viewings lol. I have only ever watched it all the way through without skipping over as much John Walker shit as possible the one time lol but I love how Sam and Bucky interact, and I fucking adore how Sam's arc was treated. I just wish they'd show the same care and attention to Bucky.

Because what they did to Bucky in this show is a fucking travesty. There was a tiny ray of hope in the pilot, when he called out Dr. Bitchface for being a terrible shrink. I thought that would be the start of him realizing he needed to find someone else and ignore the damaging shit that woman was telling him. But...nope. No such luck.

The show really had a strong start, I'll give it that. We see Bucky having nightmares of his time as TWS and struggling to hide how his traumatic memories are affecting him as he tries to live in the world again. He befriends the father of one of HYDRA's victims, which can't be good for Bucky (and we're shown it's definitely not when he sees the shrine in Yori's home to his late son) but it's sweet, how he's trying to connect and reach out to someone who's hurting and lonely.

They drop the ball a little with the whole... Bucky can hack a fucking car, but can't figure out Tinder thing. Had they just run with the fandom interpretation of the tiger photos line, that it shows that Bucky is bi and left it at that, I'd have been okay with it (and no, that is not because I ship Sam/Bucky. it's because Bucky is and always has been a certified nerd who loves technology and has consistently shown very little issue learning to use new gadgets). The outdated flip phone he handed his terrible court-mandated shrink was a burner; I liked that theory when I read it, especially since it's the only time we see him even holding a phone that old lol. This all could have fit the "Bucky is a sassy bisexual nerd" narrative and it'd be okay. Instead, the director was like "NOOOOOO that line was just to show how old he is and how he can't figure out all this newfangled technology!" Woman, you had him remotely driving someone else's vehicle with a tablet. That is NOT a man who can't figure out a damn smart phone!

But that's just a minor annoyance. What fills me with absolute rage is how everyone - not just the shitty therapist who lashes out at and purposely triggers her traumatized patients, but EVERYONE - Sam, Zemo, people who should fucking know better ALL treat him like he's a psychopath and a ticking time bomb. Like he chose to take the serum and he chose to kill for HYDRA, and he's just seen the error of his ways. *barf*

Bucky in the movies is established to be a victim, through and through. His guilt over what he was forced to do is natural, and that he sees himself as a monster makes sense... but that doesn't mean it's correct. The one and only thing I ever liked about Steve Rogers is at least he got it. He pointed out that none of it was Bucky's fault, he tried to show him that he was worth saving. That's the other reason I refuse to talk about Endgame. This post will get a WHOLE LOT LONGER and a lot fucking angrier if I open that door.

Zemo supposedly knows everything about HYDRA and super soldiers... So why does he treat Bucky like he's a corrupt serial killer? (this, for the record, is why I don't like Zemo) Why does he never point out that Bucky was given the serum against his will, or that his actions, when he had control of them, proved that he was never corrupted? Bucky never wanted to become superhuman. Bucky didn't even want to fucking fight!

Sam, despite constantly resisting the label, is shown very clearly to be Bucky's friend. By episode 3, he cares. He worries about how Bucky is getting lumped in with the other super soldiers in Zemo's speech... But he never really defends him. He says "what about Bucky?" but he doesn't point out that Bucky's a good man, he's fought so hard to help people, he does everything he can to avoid killing... And that fucking speech in episode 5. I was with him on "you gotta stop looking to other people to tell you who you are." I was like "YEAH! Tell him, Sam! Bucky, you're WORTH SAVING, boo! Your value does not hinge on someone else's opinion of you!" And then... Sam dropped the ball.

He not only continued the disturbing pattern of victim-blaming in this show, and in Marvel/Disney properties in general, but he gave really dangerously bad advice! No one in their right mind, mental health professional or no, would EVER tell a traumatized former assassin (whether he was responsible for his actions or not) to go confront his victims' families out of the blue with no warning and no one to mediate and keep things from going to shit. Yori already knew his son had been murdered because he was in the "wrong place, wrong time." How is it being "of service" to tell him you're the one who killed him?! Remember how I said Tony's reaction to learning the full truth about his parents' deaths was valid and would be an important point later? Hi! Welcome to later. THAT is the natural reaction to facing the man who murdered your loved one(s). And even if Yori didn't get angry and lash out, HOW IS IT "HELPING" HIM OR BRINGING HIM "CLOSURE" TO KNOW THAT HIS FRIEND KILLED HIS FUCKING SON?!?!?! This man befriended him, bonded with him, watched him grieve... And now he's learning this is the man who caused all his pain and heartache to begin with? That is so toxic and psycho I just... I can't even... UGH.

And then there's the equally toxic and damaging "deeply traumatized person just needed a stern talking to and a hug to be ALL BETTER AGAIN" ending. I loved seeing Bucky happy and socializing, but it was too soon, and it was unearned. And it sends a fucking awful message to people actually struggling with PTSD, and to their loved ones who don't know how to help them. Heaping more blame on them and then hugging it out is NOT helpful!

This show could have been damn near perfect with just two changes. That's all. Just two. 1) Someone, anyone, bringing up the reasons why Bucky was never a villain in his presence. Someone being in his corner and reminding him, like Steve did, that it wasn't his fault and he's not going to "snap". 2) More time devoted to Bucky's healing. Actual fucking healing, not the shit they tried to pass off as a magic fix-all. He can have his happy barbecue moment, just don't frame it as "everything's great now!" Healing isn't linear, and there will be both good days and bad. Some of the most fragile people in the world have the brightest smiles.

If we get a season 2, which this amazing show absolutely deserves, and they address this stuff, all will be forgiven in my book. Expanding on his story and his journey toward healing will help to reframe that "happily ever after" garbage as something more realistic. But as it stands now... Fuck Marvel.

#fan rant #ragepost #long post #bucky barnes #mcu #captain america #the first avenger #the winter soldier #civil war #tfatws #mcu spoilers #stop victim blaming #victim not villain #never a fucking villain #bucky deserved better #fuck marvel #fuck disney

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grailfinders · 3 years ago

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Fate and Phantasms #194

(Woops, day late, sorry)

Today on Fate and Phantasms, we’re finally done with servants with hidden true names! 🎉 Well, after this one, anyway. Today we’re bringing you the Caster of Midrash, whose true name doesn’t even have anything to do with Salem anyway! Check out her build breakdown with true name spoilers below the cut, or her character sheet over here!

Next up: A completely different character, I swear.

We’re building the Queen of Sheba, who is- wait a second. That’s not a name, that’s just a title! And it’s one that’s been subject to so much memetic mutation I’m pretty sure dropping “midrash” in her fake name is more of a hint to her identity than her true name is! What the hell!?

You know what? It’s not worth getting angry. Moolah is an Order Cleric to lay down the law for fair negotiations, as well as a The Genie Warlock for the sake of getting her genie assistants. And also being a genie, I guess.

Race and Background

As I just said, Moolah is part genie, and going by our previous rulings with the Pandevas, that means she’s an Air Genasi. This gives her +2 Constitution and +1 Dexterity, as well as Unending Breath so you can hold your breath forever, and Mingle with the Wind to cast Levitate once per long rest for free, using your constitution. Wind Genasi are probably the weakest subrace (which is really saying a lot), but being able to float around it just fun. For background, she’s... a queen... Noble. History, take Deception instead of persuasion to act like a maid for the singularity. Don’t worry, we’ll get persuasion back later.

Ability Scores

Your highest score should be in Charisma. Moolah’s good at talking people into deals they shouldn’t take. Just because negotiations are fair, doesn’t mean she isn’t better than you. After that is Wisdom. Half of business is all about finding the right mark- I mean customer. Also, wisdom is literally one of her skills. Third is her Intelligence, it was good enough to impress Solomon, but we need the other soft stats more. Your Dexterity is still above average, since you definitely aren’t wearing heavy armor. That means we have to avoid dumping Constitution at the last second, leaving Strength as your lowest stat. Just wind up anything you need to carry, easy.

Class Levels

Cleric 1: Starting off as a cleric gets you a couple goodies, like proficiency with Wisdom and Charisma saves, plus Religion and Insight. Since you’re an Order cleric, you also get proficiency with Heavy Armor (which we won’t use here), and Persuasion. Told you we’d get that back. Order clerics are also a Voice of Authority, which lets your allies help you while you help them. If you target a friend with a leveled spell, they can use their reaction to make one weapon attack against a target you choose. Don’t try to be a rules lawyer though- only one ally can attack per spell, so you can’t hit your whole team with Aid and get a free round of combat. Speaking of Spells, you have those! You can cast and prepare spells with your Wisdom, and you get Command and Heroism for free, so they’re always prepared without taking up space. You can also use spells like Bless to make allies a bit better at everything, Detect Magic to make sure nobody (else) has enchanted your courtroom, and Protection from Evil and Good so you can be on equal terms with even the most outlandish opponents. You also get some cantrips, with Guidance delivering wisdom to your allies once per casting, Thaumaturgy for some courtroom theatrics, and Mending to patch up your robes. Something tells me you’re a bit of a spendthrift.

Cleric 2: The second level of cleric isn’t quite as crowded, but it’s still pretty useful. You can now Channel Divinity once per short rest, either Turning Undead and forcing them to flee if they fail a wisdom save or delivering Order’s Demand. As an action, you can force a wisdom save on all creatures within 30′ of you, charming them for a round or until they take damage if they fail. You can also force them to drop whatever they’re holding. Negotiations tend to go more smoothly when you get rid of the claymores.

Warlock 1: Now that we can calm people down, we can get some other stuff going on the side. First level The Genie warlocks get a Genie’s Vessel, which lets you hide in it for a Bottled Respite, letting you hide out for up to 2x your proficiency hours, once per long rest. More frequently, you can unleash the Genie’s Wrath, adding your proficiency bonus in thunder damage to one attack made with an attack roll. You also get Pact Magic, which doesn’t blend with multiclassing like other spellcasters. You can either kind of slot for either kind of spell, but you don’t use the multiclassing table- just keep them separate, and use your class levels to determine the slots for each class. You also don’t prepare spells, so you’re stuck with what you get here. Grab Eldritch Blast for the prerequisite caster balls and Mage Hand for a helpful little genie to carry stuff for you. You also get Detect Good and Evil to sniff out elder gods, and Sanctuary to stop them from slapping you while you give them a verbal beatdown.

Warlock 2: Second level warlocks get Eldritch Invocations for customization, like Armor of Shadows for free mage armor so you don’t die, and Mask of Many Faces for your shapeshifting. You can also cast Distort Value now, because let’s be real, you’re going to do that whether magic helps or not.

Cleric 3: Third level clerics get second level spells, like your freebies Hold Person and Zone of Truth. Most people assume that means you can’t lie, but all zone of truth does is make it so you can’t tell untruths. There is a difference, and if you want to be a true Moolah you’ll have to learn to embrace that. You can also Aid your allies with extra HP or Enhance Ability, or use Augury to get some of that Solomonic wisdom. If you’re dealing with some angry customers, just use Calm Emotions to make them settle down.

Cleric 4: Use your first Ability Score Improvement to bump up your Wisdom for stronger spells and demands. You can also Spare the Dying, which will be helpful if you have to stabilize someone after, say, they get half-hanged.

Cleric 5: At fifth level, your turn undead turns into Destroy Undead, instantly killing all undead of CR 1/2 or lower when they fail a wisdom save. You also get third level spells, like Mass Healing Word and Slow! Those aren’t really what we’re here for though. You can also use Tongues to communicate with anyone, regardless of how far away they come from. If they’re from particularly far away, you can use Magic Circle to lock them in place during negotiations. You also get Clairvoyance for more solomon style wisdom.

Cleric 6: Sixth level clerics get a second Channel Divinity each short rest, and you become the Embodiment of the Law- now you can shorten the casting time of a leveled enchantment spell from 1 action to 1 bonus action. You can do this Wisdom Modifier times per long rest. This way you can throw up a zone of truth and keep multitasking at the same time.

Warlock 3: Bouncing back over to warlock at last, just in time for your Pact Boon! The Pact of the Chain gives you the Find Familiar spell, letting you pick special forms. None of those are genies, but an Imp is probably pretty close. You can cast touch-range spells through them, and attack using your own attack to do so. Oh hey, feign death is touch range. Just throw your familiar at Mata Hari & boom, one faked hanging. You can also make a Gust of Wind, creating a line of wind that extends 60′ away from you. Creatures that start their turn have to make a strength save or get pushed back 15 feet, and they spend double movement moving towards you in that area. You can change the direction of the wind as a bonus action.

Warlock 4: Use your next ASI to become Silver Tongued, rounding up your Charisma score and doubling your proficiency bonus with Deception. It’s a useful business tool, and also you managed to hide your identity while also starring in a play as your true identity. I know puritans are dumb, but that’s just cheeky. Also, you can use your attack action to make a contested deception check against a creature’s Insight. If you win, you don’t get opportunity attacks from them, and your own attacks have advantage. This lasts for a round, or until you use the ability again. If they win, they can’t be affected by this for an hour. You’re not really a fighter, so talking your way out of a sticky situation can be a lifesaver. Alternatively, talk your way into slapping them with tons of damage thanks to Eldritch Blast next turn, since this ability doesn’t specify weapon attacks. You can make this even easier for yourself by casting Friends for advantage on charisma checks, and you also learn Flock of Familiars to bring all your genies out to play. It’s Find Familiar, but three of them.

Warlock 5: Fifth level warlocks get third level spells, like Intellect Fortress, which will protect a creature from psychic damage, and give them advantage on soft stat saves. That’s all intelligence, wisdom, and charisma saving throws! Is some nerd tossing zones of truth left and right? No need to fear any more! You also get the invocation Voice of the Chain Master, letting you see, hear, and speak through your familiars. Genies can talk, and now so can your familiars, congrats.

Warlock 6: Sixth level genelocks get an Elemental Gift, giving you resistance to thunder damage, and you can fly for 10 minutes as a bonus action proficiency times per long rest. Finally, controlling wind can be fun! Speaking of controlling wind, your spell this level is Thunderstep, letting you escape from one spot in a burst of thunder damage and reappear in another.

Warlock 7: Seventh level warlocks get fourth level spells, and Charm Monster will help calm down even the strangest of adversaries. If you’re already fighting it’ll have advantage on its save, so you better hope Cthulhu has a bad wisdom score. You also learn how to pull yourself out of the toughest of scrapes with a Trickster’s Escape, letting you cast Freedom of Movement once per long rest for free.

Warlock 8: Odd numbers are bad, so use this ASI to round up your Dexterity and Intelligence for a higher AC and more gooder brain. You also learn how to cast Banishment to throw Cthulhu back into the void he came from once you’re done whupping him in a legal battle.

Warlock 9: Ninth level warlocks get fifth level spells, and Seeming gives you the ability to hide your physical appearance for up to 8 hours. You can alter the appearance of any number of creatures within 30 feet, but this is mostly for your benefit. Fluffy tails and ears tend to stick out in New England. You can also make more destructive genies by summoning Minions of Chaos. Once per long rest you can use a warlock slot to cast Conjure Elemental, creating a CR 5 or lower elemental of your choice for up to an hour. If you drop concentration, it sticks around for the rest of the hour, but now it’ll be hostile to you. Good thing you’re good with negotiations!

Warlock 10: At tenth level your vessel becomes a Sanctuary Vessel- you can pull up to 5 willing creatures into your Bottled Respite with you, and they can be forcibly ejected as a bonus action if you choose to do so. In addition, anyone who stays inside for at least 10 minutes gets the benefits of a short rest, and they get extra healing if they use hit dice. You can also cast Prestidigitation for little bits of casterliness, and you can Contact Other Planes for guidance. Summoning Elementals will probably go better if you give them a heads up, and contacting Mount Celestia is probably the only way you’ll be able to talk to your husband. Sorry about that, btw.

Warlock 11: Eleventh level warlocks get a Mystic Arcanum. Basically, it would be really busted if you could cast two sixth level spells per short rest, so you get one per long rest instead. Yours is Investiture of Wind, giving you yet another way to fly, defense against ranged weapons, and you can create cubes of swirling wind that deal bludgeoning damage and push large or smaller creatures around. We’ve been so focused on legal and business stuff we really haven’t had much focus on wind. To be fair though, it’s not like WotC did much better, but this spell should make up for that.

Warlock 12: Use this last ASI to bump up your Charisma for stronger spells and more convincing lies. You also get one last Invocation, and an Eldritch Mind will help you keep concentration on your spells. You don’t want to run out while flying, and you especially don’t when you’re keeping a living tornado in check.

Warlock 13: Your last spell for this build is the seventh level spell Forcecage. It’s not quite as elegant as a Magic Circle, but it’s way more likely that the giant monster you’re dealing with is coming from this dimension, so this will help trap anything that can’t teleport away.

Warlock 14: Your ultimate level grants you the ultimate power of the genelock- Limited Wish. As an action, you can use your genie’s vessel to cast any spell of 6th level or lower that can be cast in 1 action, without using any material components. You can only use this once every 1d4 long rests, but it’s very cost effective.

Pros and Cons:

Pros:

You are very good at ending fights nonlethally, either restraining enemies of all kinds or negotiating their anger away from the party. Depending on how your DM does experience points, this might make you very unpopular.

On a related note, you’re really good at avoiding combat in general, using spells like Forcecage or Gust of Wind to keep enemies away, Flying out of their reach, or using spells like Seeming and Disguise Self to hide in plain sight

Mixed casting classes are usually a bad thing, and to be fair not getting wish does hurt, but it’s also really useful here. Mixing warlock with another casting class gets you extra spell slots, but you can still recharge your biggest slots on short rests. It’s the best of both worlds.

Cons:

Your Wisdom isn’t amazing. It’s fine for most builds, but it means your cleric spells are going to be pretty easy to escape from.

Grabbing Embodiment of the Law means we’re one level shy of the fifteenth level of warlock, which would have given you an invocation that lets you cast Alter Self at will. Without that, your shapeshifting powers are in name only, which is a downer.

Even with Eldritch Mind, your Concentration is still pretty bad, and you’ll have to choose between defenses, charming enemies to bring them out of combat, or your more powerful offensive spells. Nobody ever said being a lawyer was simple.

#fgo #fate grand order #D&D 5e #DND #Caster of Midrash #Cleric #Warlock

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ginkgomoon · 4 years ago

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Lucien's Iridescent- Analysis

Finally, some more Lucien-based content! I'm so sorry for the wait, Lucien stans! If you’re out there please let me know so I can say hello to you individually and ask questions about your fav!! I want to interact with the community more so I can expand my knowledge and perception on the different characters and aspects of the game. I’d honestly love to have a chat about MLQC anytime! I didn’t expect to be posting this today because this is one is a freshie! (Started working on it today, and posted up today, unlike the other hundred that I have drafted...) Lots of spoilers for the character of Lucien and for future content. Please do not read if you don’t want spoilers! Thank you! Hope you enjoy!! 🌈 💜

Iridescent definition-

“Showing luminous colours that seem to change when seen from different angles.”

Origins

The pen is originally brought over from England, where Lucien was studying when he was younger. It actually belonged to a Granny before Lucien, and she told him, "give this luck to the special someone when you meet her."

Lucien didn't really care for the pen that much other than that, though.

"Although I had always felt that he was not gentle with me, this time I knew he did care for me. My joy didn't last for more than ten seconds, when my owner took me back and gave me a faint glance, and then gave his full attention the girl."

Also, it's tiny bit ironic about how Lucien can't see colour and names the pen "Iridescent".

"A rainbow! It's my favourite scene- that's where my name came from. But my owner can't see the rainbow. he doesn't know how to appreciate these colours." -Rainbow Luck Rumours and Secrets

Iridescent and MC

“This is for you."

A silvery- white steel pen glinted in the sunlight with an "X" etched prominently into its surface. (The "X" refers to his Chinese name, "Xu mo")

MC: "Isn't this the pen you left in the set the first time you were on the show?"

"Yes, at the time I rushed back to the set. Everyone had left but one girl was still foolishly sitting there, just to give me this pen. For the first time I thought, compared to my own actions of running back there, she didn't seem that foolish at all."

His lips curved up in a smile, and his eyes softened.

"It wasn't foolish. I was slower than you, but afterwards, I saw."

I didn't understand what he meant. I tilted my head and looked at Lucien. His eyes were streaked with shadow and light by the sunshine.

MC: "Why are you giving me the pen?"

"The pen has a name. It's called Iridescent. It's a lucky charm that's been with me for many years. Now, this luck belongs to you."

Lucien opened my hand and placed the pen in it, then closed my hand back over it with an assertive force.

"It's just a pen. Take it."

Lucien turned his head and looked at me, the sunlight glistening on his lips, clear and warm. -Chapter 13-10

Lucien gave a lot of thought into giving MC the pen.

"He had been staring at me for so long his gaze almost penetrated me! My owner had always been very decisive and unwavering, but this time, I could feel his hesitation. What was it for?"

But why?

"At the moment I was a little dizzy, and thought, am I now a "love token"?" -Rainbow Luck Rumours and Secrets

I would argue multiple reasons actually. Firstly, as Iridescent itself stated, it was used as a "love exchange"- a silent confession that he loves her. He uses this pen for his work, and since this "work" was focused on the QUEEN and BLACK SWAN, it was almost like a declaration that what Lucien had owned- what Ares will soon gain, that no matter what, both personas would be by her side.

He knows that she's always in danger, from others and from himself, so he silently hopes that this pen in becoming that "lucky charm" would also help her so that she wouldn't really get caught and tied up in BLACK SWAN business.

It serves as a reminder for himself too, that a part of him will always be kept close to her. And like how its name is Iridescent, that aspect of him that can see colour is being surrendered back to her, because only with MC, can Lucien finally witness colours of the rainbow.

But of course, like all rainbows, they don't last forever, and MC uses this pen- in the name of colour- his weaknesses and the symbolism and connection of their relationship- against him.

MC: “Why?”

“I warned you before. You still had time to run too bad, you had no awareness of danger. Or one could say, you trusted me too much.”

He spoke in a tone that was provocative and mocking.

With ease, he ripped open a scar that hadn’t fully healed, and my tears came pouring out.

I don’t know why, but in that instant, I seemed to see a flash of sorrow in his eyes. But in less than half a second, he had resumed his composure. Then he pursed his lips and made a faint smile.

Thick blackness surrounded him. Even the brightest of setting suns couldn’t reach him.

But I still hoped that the hint of sorrow I caught was real. I hoped that he was still the way he used to pretend to be. But then why did his eyes seem so sincere?

Even now, I wasn’t willing to completely believe. My heart told me that it wasn’t lies.

Helping me save my final show was real. Rescuing me from danger was real. Every bit of encouragement and help was all real.

If all of that was real, how could the person in front of me now be fake?

I strained to find in his eyes any sign of pain, struggle, even a moment’s hesitation. But there was none.

There was nothing at all. We were like two strangers.

“Ares, what are you waiting for?”

I don’t know where my strength came from, but in an instant, I held something sharp to my neck. I tremblingly held the pen, sensing the bitter taste in my throat.

Seeing my action, everyone froze.

How ironic! He clearly gave it to me as a gift, and now it was carrying out its mission like this.

“You won’t do it.”

My neck was in terrible pain, and half my body was going numb.

I didn’t even realise that a trickle of blood was streaming down my neck. We stood there, neither of us was moving.

“Don’t do anything foolish.”

You’re right, I am too foolish. When I was at my lowest, he held out a hand of friendship to me and I took it in with full trust.

And now here he was again, saying that same voice I was so familiar with, that was all a trap.

He stood there, aloof and cold, with all those emotions swirling in his eyes that I never understood before. Now I final understand. It was the thrill of laying a trap and the joy of watching your prey take the bait.

MC: “Let me go.”

“You think you can negotiate with me?”

MC: “You still owe me a thank you gift.”

A tear rolled down my face silently. (This line killed me.)

He smiled mockingly.

“I can let you go, but next time, you won’t get such an opportunity. Don’t let me catch you next time.” (In other words he means, "pen you did well, now she can escape.")

MC: “Next time I won’t trust you, Ares. I will never trust you again. Because you aren’t Lucien. He would never harm me. They have nothing to do with each other!”

He turned but said nothing. That was the last time I saw a gentle look in his eye. Then he looked up at the sky as his whole body emerged into the shadows, and he continued onwards.

The pen fell from my hand onto the ground. The “X” etched onto it gleaming, seemingly telling me a story. -Chapter 13-19

"I saw the pain in my owners eyes and felt the trembling of the girl's right hand passing through me... grasping me as she left, she could not control her shaking body. She seemed to be holding onto me with all her strength, as if I was her only support.

I was accidentally dropped to the ground and rolling into the dust. but the girl didn't seem to notice, as she was in a trance looking up at the kites in the sky. But the girl crouched down to pick me up and gently wiped the dust off of me. Everyday at nightfall, I knew how much pain she endured and how much she cried in her sleep. I thought she would abandon me, but she did not... -Rainbow Luck Rumours and Secrets

n a way, it's also a silent promise, or a reason for him to keep returning to her. The tie that she always clutches secretly in her pocket that she, too, still cares for him and still thinks of him. MC still evens put the effort in the take care of Iridescent, making sure it doesn't get lost or broken. This is similar to how the ginkgo bracelet is a form of support from Gavin to MC.

As I put away my camera, I again reflexively felt around inside-

MC: “Oh no!”

A ball of sweat fell from my forehead. Where was that pen!?

A single possibility suddenly presented itself to me- but another thought immediately supplanted it-

MC: “It’s his anyway. The staff will give it back to him…”

Having confidently convinced myself with that reasoning, I left.

See how they're back to how they were from the beginning- where she was starting to get to know “Lucien”, but now she’s starting to view him as “Ares”. The two personas correlating to this one pen.

I banged my head on the table. I clutched my head in pain, and the metal pen rolled away, stopping before a pair of black shoes. Then I saw a slender hand daintily pick it up.

“You came back to find this?”

He looked at me with a playful look on his face. He raised his eyebrows and held the pen in front.

“Don’t lose it again.”

I reached out for it, but that sunny late spring day suddenly flashed before my eyes, and I started to regain my posture. Maybe I shouldn’t have come back for it.

MC: “Never mind, I’m always losing things. And it doesn’t belong to me anyway. At this point, it should go back to its original owner.”

He slowly and deliberately put the pen away, then gave as light nod. -Chapter 16-11

"With determination, the girl gave me back to my owner. The moment he took me, the last thread linking them together seemed to have broken. My owner withdraw his gaze from her and after a long time he said softly, "my little fool". The words sounded unfinished, with untold tenderness hidden behind them. But in my opinion, should the fool refer to my intelligent owner himself?

I couldn't help but think, did my owner lose his colours? Or will he find them again, someday? Because, those who have seen the rich colours of the rainbow, would not be reconciled with grey again." -Rainbow Luck Rumours and Secrets

But in the end, the pen was returned back to MC.

Lucien carefully took out the pen from his pocket and placed it in the girl's hand. The he leaned over and whispered into her ear-

"Next time, don't rush into danger by yourself. Especially on my account." -Chapter 16-22

Like how Lucien would always come back to her- Ares or not, because those are his true colours- that Lucien, like how he’s also “iridescent”, would show all sides of him to her, and that he would love MC no matter which side he's on.

#I CAN EAT DINNER NOW #literally typed out the whole of chapter 13 #proud of myself #恋与制作人 #love and producer #mlqc #mr love queens choice #mlqc translation #mlqc analysis #mlqc cn #mlqc en #mlqc Lucien #mlqc xumo #xu mo #Lucien #mlqc spoilers

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fantastic-rambles · 4 years ago

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The Snakes’ Deception

Fandom: Haikyuu!! (@aikk00's Racing AU)

Characters (in order of appearance): Kozume Kenma, Kuroo Tetsurou, Yaku Morisuke, Sakishima Isumi, Daishou Suguru, Fukunaga Shouhei, Yamamoto Taketora, Haiba Lev, other Nekoma members (not mentioned by name)

Warnings: Physical Violence, Language

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: When the Snakes, led by Daishou Suguru, come to challenge Kuroo for the title of Drift King, the Nekoma Crew isn’t going to take that lying down. But when the Snakes start to play nasty, the stakes are raised even further, and Kuroo has to fight to stay calm and prove that he’s the undisputed champion.

[A/N: RIP my dozen other drafts for other stories. I actually was planning to write this a few days before the Daishou art (also by aikk00), except I knew practically nothing about drift racing so I needed to do research, lul. I watched Tokyo Drift, some Initial D, some Grand Tour, and did a lot of reading online on drift racing and drifting in general, but tbh, I still don’t quite understand the mechanics (I don’t drive stick and I can’t go out and learn how to drift), so I apologize if this is horribly inaccurate. :P]

"The road condition looks good today, but it's still a little wet from earlier. Watch yourself going into the turns so you don't end up spinning out. The Snakes will probably do something though, especially since they asked you to race with Sakishima before Daishou. It should be okay when you're in the lead, but be ready to take defensive measures when you're chasing. My guess is that they'll try to take advantage of your skill at closing the gap and your power-over drift to orchestrate some sort of accident," Kenma commented quietly without looking up from his laptop, his fingers tapping away as he inputted a continuous stream of data. He seemed oblivious to the roar of the crowd outside the car, and Kuroo reached over to tousle his black-and-gold hair affectionately.

"Got it, Kenma. Anything else?"

"I know you won't listen, but you should just go all-out from the start. Not your usual way of racing. But if you do end up chasing, just do a normal drift and keep space between you and Sakishima. If they are aiming for an accident, it's more likely to happen when you're on the outside, so it'll slam into your side and Sakishima will be safe. But your numbers look good. I'm just going to tell Yaku-san to put a little more air into your rear tires," Kenma replied, closing the lid on his laptop and pushing open the passenger-side door, letting the sound of cheering and taunts into the vehicle. After he'd left and closed the door, Kuroo rolled down his window to light a cigarette, letting the smoke drift out into the night sky. Kenma hadn't said anything that he hadn't expected--especially with regard to the Snakes--but it was always reassuring to get their analyst's perspective before a race. Kenma wasn't the type to get fired up like the rest of the crew, but that cool-headed analysis was part of the reason they were able to climb so high in the rankings despite not always having the best cars or the best drivers. The ridiculous title of "Drift King" that he'd somehow ended up with was the result of Kenma's work as much as his own.

Still, Kenma was right. Even if it meant getting into an accident, Kuroo didn't intend to change the way he drifted. Part of the thrill of these races was the pure adrenaline high from going fast, especially when there was the risk of injury or even death. It was the reason why he'd mastered the power-over drift so that he could keep accelerating through the turn, and swung close enough to his opponents during his chases to make them panic. Even against the Snakes and their underhanded dealings, he'd show them that his way of fighting was still better, no matter what they threw at him.

He looked up when a shadow fell over him as Yaku leaned over his open window, the electric pump in his hand.

"You're good to go, Kuroo. Go ahead and show off," Yaku shouted over the din. Kuroo nodded, flicking his cigarette out the window and rolling up the glass. Yaku stepped back as he revved the engine, pulling up to the starting line where Sakishima was already waiting. Unlike most racers, Kuroo preferred chasing from the start to throw his opponent off his game. Before he'd inherited the title of Drift King, he'd been known as the Comeback Kid for his knack for overcoming what was traditionally seen as an unfavorable position. But the psychological benefit of overtaking the opponent and the pressure it put on the other racer, in addition to his skill with his clean lines and sharp angles that allowed him to do so consistently, had eventually shot him to the top of the Tokyo drifting world.

At the signal, Sakishima peeled past the starting line, and Kuroo quickly shot after him, staying close to his tail as they sped down the course. Even though his heart was racing, his head was completely clear, every sense focused on the view just beyond his windshield. Both he and Kenma were confident that Sakishima wouldn't try anything until the turn, but that was no reason to relax, especially at the speeds that they were going. Still, nothing happened when they reached the first clipping point, and Kuroo's eyes narrowed as he quickly estimated the distances and speeds between their cars, making his calculations swiftly and throwing himself into a drift just a heartbeat after Sakishima.

And it was perfect. His hand rested casually on the wheel as his tires squealed, sending up plumes of smoke as the tail of his car whipped around the curve, flying nearly parallel to Sakishima. The Snake seemed rattled as he spun into the next turn, turning slightly wide as Kuroo effortlessly stuck to him, their cars nearly touching as Kuroo grinned. It was pretty clear already which of them was the better drifter, not that it had ever been a question.

He let the car carry itself into the third point with just a few adjustments on his side, almost laughing as Sakishima had to drag on his own wheel to make the turn. The perfect chance presented itself almost immediately, and he aimed for the gap in Sakishima's barely controlled swing. But then, suddenly, the other car was spinning out as the Snake overcompensated, an out-of-control, two-ton wrecking ball flying toward him.

Kuroo jerked his wheel, pulling himself out of the drift and spinning out himself, the two cars making donuts on the road until he couldn't tell left from right. But the ominous crunch of metal never came, and when his car finally screeched to a stop, Kuroo slapped himself out of the harness and kicked his door open, stepping out onto the asphalt and casting his glare out at the spectators, looking for one specific slit-eyed face in particular.

"Daishou!" he bellowed, stomping toward the crowd and seizing the Snake by the collar, dragging him over the barrier. "What the fuck was that?"

But the other man just stared at him, all wide-eyed innocence. "'What the fuck' was what, Kuroo-san? Isumi made a mistake. Everyone saw that. He's not used to wet roads, but that's why I asked you to run with him so he could get some practice, because you're the only one good enough to not get hurt if he really fucks up. Like he did."

"Don't give me that bullshit!" Kuroo spun and slammed Daishou onto the ground, making the Snake wince as his back made contact with the asphalt. "That trick had your slime smeared all over it. You wanted to use Sakishima to take me out so you'd win the next run by default. If I hadn't been expecting something like that from you, I'd probably be in an ambulance on my way to the hospital right now."

Sakishima had caught up to them and was now clinging to Kuroo's arm, trying to pull him off while babbling insincere apologies. Kuroo shrugged him off impatiently as Daishou's hands landed on his wrist, trying to make him let go, but Kuroo shook him like a terrier with a rat, the adrenaline and testosterone giving him an incredible high.

"Really, Kuroo-san. Ask anyone. They would all say that it's a normal accident," Daishou protested. "You know these kinds of things happen all the time. But you're okay, Isumi's okay. No harm, no foul, right?"

The crowd was murmuring in the background, but Kuroo couldn't hear what they were saying through the blood pounding in his ears. He was just drawing his fist back to punch that smarmy smile off the Snake's face when a deluge of water crashed over both of them. Sputtering, he looked up to see Shouhei holding an empty bucket, Kenma standing beside him.

"Cooled off, Kuro?" Kenma asked in his deadpan voice as he approached them. "Or should I ask Fukunaga to get another bucket?"

Kuroo grimaced, shaking the water out of his eyes and hair as he leaned back slightly, still not letting Daishou go. Kenma crouched beside him, speaking softly, so that the crowd couldn't hear.

"You know that the Snakes are just like this. To everyone else, this does look like a normal accident. If you go any further, you're the one that's going to get a bad reputation. Right now, we can still pass it off as the heat of the moment. Let him go, Kuro."

"Yeah, listen to your girlfriend, Kuro," Daishou taunted. Kuroo's expression shut down, and he drew back his arm again. But this time, Kenma clung to it, still hissing in his ear.

"Stop it, Kuro. You know that everyone says that. They've been saying it for years. It doesn't mean anything. Stop letting him get to you!"

Kuroo grimaced again, but he listened to Kenma, letting his friend quietly talk him down until he was calm enough to shove Daishou away and get up. Accepting a towel from Shouhei, he tousled his hair dry while glaring at Daishou, who got back to his feet with as much dignity as he could muster.

"Sakishima-san forfeited the run," Kenma continued, still talking in his flat, measured tone. "So you'll be up against Daishou later. Are you up to it?"

"Fuck yeah, I'm ready to beat his ass," Kuroo snarled, and Kenma nodded at Shouhei, who ran across the asphalt to retrieve Kuroo's car. They'd probably replace the rear wheels to be safe, and then Kenma would have to run his checks again, but when they were done, his car would be better than new and more than ready to run the cheating bastard into the ground.

He reached into his pocket to pull out his pack of cigarettes, bending over to accept Kenma's offer of a light, and took a deep drag to steady his nerves. Being emotional during a race was the fastest way to get a ride to the morgue, so he needed to re-center himself. By then, the rest of his team had caught up to him, and Tora's particularly heated spiel about Daishou and his team helped bleed away most of the anger as they walked back to the starting line. Kenma had slipped away at some point, and Yaku was nowhere to be seen, so they were probably working on the car while he settled down. Really, he didn't deserve his friends.

By the time they arrived back at the beginning, the cool night air had washed away the rest of his irritation, which was probably Kenma's intention in making him walk back with the others. Shouhei and Yaku had just finished installing new tires, and Kenma was hunched over his laptop again on the curb, only looking up briefly when Kuroo sat down next to him.

"Thanks."

Kenma shrugged, his face bleached by the light from his screen. "I'm just doing my job."

"I mean earlier."

Kenma shrugged again, and a comfortable silence settled between them, broken only by the clicking of the keyboard. The rest of the team was huddled around the car, making checks and occasionally bringing Kenma more numbers, gradually shifting to sit around their captain and his brain, filling the silence with their chatter as other drifters made their runs.

"Hey, wait! You're playing a game, Kenma!" Lev protested, peering over Kenma's shoulder. "What about the race?"

"Kuroo will be fine," Kenma replied calmly as Kuroo looked over at his screen too, which seemed to be displaying the view through a sniper's scope. "His car's fine, and Daishou wants to beat Kuroo. If he tries the same thing, it'll be suspicious, and even if he did, if Kuroo doesn't spin out again, then Daishou will lose. And Kuroo is better than him, so if he does try anything else, it'd be more likely that he'd mess up and Kuroo would still win. His best chance at this point is a fair fight, and that means Kuroo could drive laps around him all day."

Kuroo grinned, standing up and stretching. "Well then, I guess that's my cue to get ready. I'll see you all at the finish line."

He walked over to his car, standing by the driver's door and just running a hand over the shining, red exterior for a moment. Then, taking a deep breath, he got inside, strapping himself down. The familiar feeling of exhilaration that he got just before a run made him smile as he pulled into place behind the next pair of cars, watching out of the corner of his eye as Daishou pulled up next to him.

And then, soon enough, they were flying down the road, Kuroo chasing again, keeping the pressure on his opponent. As Kenma had said, there was no way for Daishou to beat him, and he proved that as he took the lead at the very first bend, hitting the edge perfectly while gunning his engine through the whole course, making the best run that he'd probably ever done and leaving Daishou in his dust. If it was possible, he was even sharper on the turns than he had been against Sakishima, pushing himself and his car to the utmost limit. And there was no better feeling than watching the Snake come up to him to shake his hand after his loss, smiling like it hurt his teeth.

"As expected of the Drift King. But it won't last forever. Someday, someone will knock you off that throne."

And Kuroo had smiled back, the smirk that he knew infuriated Daishou more than anything else.

"Come at me whenever you want. I'll beat you down every time."

[A/N2: This isn't KuroKen. They're just really good childhood friends, so Kenma knows how to calm Kuroo down because they've been part of each other's lives for so long, and Kenma in particular is good at paying attention to people. Kuroo gets pissed at Daishou for calling Kenma his "girlfriend" not because of the implication that he's "whipped" (because Kuroo is perfectly secure in his masculinity), but rather because I have a headcanon that Kenma got teased a lot for being "girly" (weak, thin, kinda androgenous, etc.) growing up, so Kuroo still gets upset when that's used to insult his best friend (even though Kenma honestly doesn't give a fuck). But they're not in a romantic relationship; they just spend a lot of time together.

Of course, if you wanna interpret it as KuroKen, that's your prerogative, but that wasn't my intention in writing this.]

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyū!!#hq #hq!!#hq racer au #fan fic #fanfic #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo tetsuro #kuroo #daishou suguru #daisho suguru #daisho #daishou #nekoma #mine #at least i finally wrote something lol

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katehuntington · 4 years ago

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Title: Ride With Me (part 24) Fandom: Supernatural Timeline: 2008 Pairing: Dean x Reader Word count: ±9400 words Summary series: Y/N is a talented horse rider who is on her way to become a professional. In order to convince her father that she deserves the loan needed to start her own farm, she goes to Arizona for six months, to intern at a ranch owned by Bobby and Ellen Singer. Her future is set out, but then she meets a handsome horseman, who goes by the name of Dean Winchester. A heartwarming series about a cowboy who falls for the girl, letting go of the past and the importance of family. Summary part 24: John’s presence at the horse show flips Dean’s world upside down, sending him a tailspin that could have serious consequences. Will Y/N and his friends be able to get through to him? Warnings series: NSFW, 18+ only! Fluff, angst, eventually smut. Swearing, smoking, alcohol intoxication, alcohol abuse. Mutual pining, heartbreak, slowburn. Crying, nightmares, childhood trauma. Description of animal abuse, domestic violence, mentions of addiction. Financial problems, stress, mental breakdown. Description of blood and injury, hospital scenes, character death, grief. Music: How Do You Get ‘Em Back - David Ramirez. Follow ‘Kate Huntington’s Ride With Me playlist’ on Spotify! Author’s note: Thank you @atc74, and @winchest09 for helping me. Also a special thanks to @jules-1999, who has offered me her knowledge about rodeo events like these, and @squirrelnotsam, who knows Arizona like the back of her hand. Guys, this is going to be a heavy one. 9.3K of angst. If you are invested in this story, I suggest you’ll have the tissues ready before you start reading. Godspeed.

Ride With Me Masterlist

“Hello, son.”

Only two words, but it’s more than Dean has heard his father say in a long while. The simple greeting lingers between them, like smog polluting the air, stealing his breath. A force of habit the cowboy assumed was long forgotten has him square his shoulders. After all, if there’s anything John taught him it's that men can’t be weak.

What does he call him? Dad? Sir? The cowboy isn’t even sure and so he decides to keep his mouth closed. Instead, he measures the man before him. He is but a ghost of the parent Dean remembers - or at least idolized for so long. His boots are dusty and worn, the leather tearing at the creases. His clothes are dirty, stains on the white t-shirt he’s wearing under a camel jacket. He grew a beard, the tough hairs grey now. A black cowboy hat hides most of his slick hair, but they don’t conceal the dark circles under his father’s eyes, nor the tale of pain and sorrow that are still apparent. Nothing has changed, really. He just got older.

Dean can feel his knees weaken as his breaths come out shaky, but he is able to stand his ground. He sets his jaw, gritting away the frustration that continues to build, his fists clenched, nails digging into his palm. But it’s more than just aggravation that courses through him; it’s joined with an overwhelming sense of panic and fear. He wants to run, far away from confrontations and the dull blade that is tearing open old wounds. What he would give to go back in time, just an hour or so, to prevent this moment. What he would give to be able to live the life he naively pictured, with his family, with Y/N.

Meanwhile, John watches him, eyes glossed over and wearing a small smile. “It’s good to see you.” Still, Dean can’t speak. He just stares at his father. Even the gentle words falling from John’s chapped lips don’t lift the tension. Where Dean was thankful that the stables were empty just a few minutes ago, he now wishes it was swarming with people, because being cut out from the public eye is not a position the cowboy wants his girlfriend to be in. When John steps closer hesitatingly, Dean moves in front of her, one hand back to make sure she stays behind him. It’s instinct, a reaction that is fed by years of doing the same for Sammy. He did everything possible to protect his brother then, and now he has to do the same for her. Dean has to get her out of here. Now.

The cowboy turns his head slightly, addressing Y/N without letting his old man out of his sight. “You should get Joplin warmed up. I’ll be right there.” “Dean? Are you s--” “Go,” he insists, wincing at the strict tone of his own voice.

John has halted and watches the exchange, his gaze following the cowgirl who moves to the box on her right and takes off the halter of a black horse inside the stable. Without a word but with concern and confusion evident in her eyes - which flick to his before she averts them quickly - she takes the Quarter by the reins and guides the mare out of the stable. When she’s out of earshot, Dean’s father returns his focus to his son. “That your girlfriend?” he wonders. “No,” the wrangler claims, wanting to keep her out of this at all costs. John doesn’t have to know about his relationships with her or with his friends. It will make them vulnerable to his influence. “She’s just an intern,” he adds.

Believing the statement to be true, he dips his chin, nodding slightly, and Dean is able to exhale. At least he got Y/N out of harm’s way, now he just needs to somehow prepare himself to take the fire. It’s been a long time coming, but it’s time to face the faults of the past. He allowed the family to fall apart on that dreadful night when the bond between the Winchesters was shattered to pieces. Dean destroyed it all.

Carefully, his old man moves closer once more, and involuntarily the young cowboy steps back. He doesn’t want to. He intends to stand tall and hold position, but trepidation has him back up before he can stop himself. Apparently aware of the effect he has on Dean, John ceases his attempt to close the unbreachable gap between father and son.

Leaving a safe distance between them, he speaks again. “You’ve grown up to be quite the man, Dean. Your aunt and uncle must have taken good care of you.” More than you’ve ever done, Dean thinks to himself, but he doesn’t say it out loud, too apprehensive for the reaction it might trigger. “They have.” “Well, I’m glad,” John smiles at the ground. “I’m glad you landed on your feet. Do you know if Sammy did too?”

Dean’s eyes fill to the brim before he can blink. He doesn’t know. The big brother who was supposed to look out for him, who was supposed to give everything to provide his younger sibling the safety and care that he deserved, doesn’t know. The question is a punch in the gut, a verification of the fact that he has failed Sam like he has failed so many others. “I don’t,” he admits, doing everything in his power to keep his voice steady. “I haven’t seen him since.”

John sighs, sniffles slightly and glances up, as if he’s mad for a prayer that has been left unanswered. The news does a number on the old guy, and suddenly Dean feels sorry for the man standing before him. His father was already lost when their mother died, and it only got worse when Sam disappeared. The agony it triggered has never left him, just like it never left his son. That loss will always remain, a piece of their heart cut away violently, leaving a hole that bleeds to this day. They both had to settle for a life without Mary and the youngest Winchester in it. As much as Dean wants to hate his father, he simply can’t. He wouldn’t want to wish that kind of torture upon anyone, let alone his dad. It doesn’t matter how many mistakes he has made.

“I’m sorry to hear that. I hoped that maybe…” John pauses, shaking his head slightly. “I hoped you boys at least found your way back to each other.”

Dean swallows with difficulty, his bottom lashes barely clinging to the tears that threaten to roll down his face, but he manages to keep it together. He wishes the same, because life without his sibling feels incomplete. God, he misses Sam. And all that guilt, the sorrow, and the uncertainty of his well-being come rushing back to him in a magnitude that he can’t cope with.

John watches his son again, a grown man now, yet still his boy. “I was wondering if maybe we could sit down someday. Have a drink or something, y’know? Try and put this all behind us?”

Astonished, Dean stares at him. A part of him wants to mend this broken relationship, but John must be aware that rekindling the father-son bond will never undo all the trauma their family endured. There’s no going back to how things were, there is no returning to the time the Winchesters were happy. Mom died, and her death set them on a course of total ruination. And yet, Dean can’t answer. He can’t tell his father ‘no’.

“John Winchester!” Hasty footsteps echo between the stable walls, and when the conflicted cowboy glances past his father, he notices Bobby, moving closer with determined strides. A shuddering sigh of relief escapes Dean, and he’s glad the man opposite of him turns around to face his former brother-in-law so that he doesn’t witness the sign of weakness. With his uncle here, he instantly feels safer, knowing that even if this conversation develops into an argument, he has back-up now.

The elder man holds a fury in his eyes that is visible even in the shadows of the worn ball cap he always wears. “You better walk away,” he warns. “We were just talkin’,” John assures, calmly. “I don’t care if you are holding a family reunion,” Bobby sneers. “If you don’t leave right now, I will get my gun and blast your sorry ass so full of buckshot that you will never sit in a saddle again without scratching the leather.”

Dean’s gaze bounces between his father and his uncle, weary of the clash that is about to kick off, as the two older men keep their eyes locked on each other, tension rising by the second. But then, against his expectations, John gives in to Bobby’s request and steps aside. He glances back at his son one last time, giving him a sad smile, before he breaks away and strolls off, shoulders slumped and defeat obvious.

Collecting himself by taking a breath and blowing it out as slowly as he can, the younger cowboy makes eye contact with his uncle, who approaches him until he’s in arm’s reach. He puts his hand on the back of Dean’s neck, gently encouraging the troubled young man to look at him, hoping the touch will ground his nephew. “You alright?” Bobby asks, the lines in his forehead deepening as he frowns. Dean swallows down the lump in his throat and nods, his lips pressed together in a firm line. He can’t speak and has to break away from his uncle’s observant gaze. Bobby’s grip loosens; he’s aware that Dean isn’t ready to expose his true feelings about this unfortunate run-in. “I’m gonna make sure he leaves the premises,” he assures. With those words, the man - who once again has provided him safety - turns away to follow John, committed to matching action with his words if the guy doesn’t take his threat seriously.

Finally alone, the unsettled cowboy tries to inhale again, but his diaphragm seems to have risen to chest height. He can feel anxiety like he has never experienced before in his adult life get a grip on him, and whatever he tries, he can’t stop it. Afraid that his legs might give way, he takes a step to the side and holds on to one of the stable bars, but he still can’t breathe. Unable to hold the frontline in the battle he’s fighting with the overwhelming sense of distress, the tears break through his defense, spilling down his cheeks. Suddenly, he feels sick. He needs to get out, he needs fresh air.

Feeling the bile creeping up from deep inside him as he stumbles outside, he quickly turns the corner behind the tent before he heaves this morning’s partly digested breakfast into the grass. He throws up everything he has been holding, hoping the anguish will leave his body as well, but it doesn’t. When his stomach is empty, he is still left with the same misery. “Fuck,” he chokes out, steadying himself against the steel corner pillar of the stable. He wipes at his runny nose and his tears, sniffling. Get a hold of yourself, Dean, he lectures, you need to keep it together now. He straightens his back, looking down at the mess he made, closing his eyes for a second as he pulls in a careful breath.

“Dean?” Recognizing his friend’s voice, the cowboy turns around. Benny stands behind him, worry in his clear blue eyes. Manning up and finding his footing again, Dean walks up to meet him. The Southerner hands him a bottle of water, and even though the receiver is thankful for having something to rinse his mouth with, he wishes it to be something a whole lot stronger.

Taking a swig, he lets it wash away the sour taste before he spits it onto the ground. After another attempt he realizes that it’s no use and takes a careful sip this time, swallowing it down to put out the fire inside his chest. He glances at Benny, giving him a nod. “I - I’m good,” he says, not just trying to convince his companion. “I’m good.”

Knowing him well, his best friend doesn’t contradict him, even though it’s clear as day the statement is far from the truth. Dean’s eyes are bloodshot, his hand trembling when he moves the bottle to his mouth. “You might wanna get to the warm-up,” Benny reminds him, handing him the headset. The wrangler grimaces. “Shit, yeah. What time is it?” “Two-thirty. Her starting time is in twenty-five minutes,” the Southerner says. “I gotta get goin’,” Dean realizes after cursing again, moving past him to make his way to the arena. He holds up the water bottle as he jogs away. “Thanks.”

Hoping his friend will understand that he’s thanking him for a lot more than just the drink, he hastens away. Right now, he has someone else who needs his support. Y/N has left the stables well over fifteen minutes ago, so he hopes she’s not nervous because of his late arrival. When he finally reaches the fence, he spots her amongst the other riders, warming up Joplin. He can tell she’s focused, or is she upset with him for not being on time? Finding it hard to read her from a distance, he sums it up to a mixture of both. Without disturbing the other competitors, he bends down to duck under the barrier, approaching her and her horse. But when she ignores him completely and continues to work the Quarter on a small circle, he hesitates.

“Y/N?” he calls out, not sure if she saw him from inside her bubble. “What?” she snaps. Taken aback by her reaction, he watches how she keeps circling, slowing down to a walk, but still not stopping to take the headset or even grant him a look. “C’mon, let me help you,” he ushers, holding up the device for her. But when she looks him in the eye, the coldness they behold frightens him. “Why do you even care?” she wonders. “I’m ‘just an intern’ anyway.”

Like she just slapped him across the face, Dean stares at the cowgirl, the daggers she’s shooting at him with her powerful gaze stabbing him right in the heart. No no no, he thinks to himself as he closes his eyes. She wasn’t supposed to hear him say that to his father. He labeled her as an intern only to make sure John wouldn’t be able to get to Dean through his girlfriend. Of course he didn’t mean a word of it! He has to make her understand. “Yankee, I’m sorry. I--” “Forget it, Dean. I can handle myself,” she snarls. “Leave me alone.”

With that, she moves away from her boyfriend, riding Joplin to the other side of the warm-up ring, as far from him as possible. Regretful, her trainer saunters back towards the fence, making his way out of the ring. When he straightens himself, he is met by Jo, who has her arms crossed in front of her chest as she narrows her eyes at her cousin. It’s clear as day that she’s about to rip him a new one as well. “What did you do?” she demands to know, sternly.

Dean looks at her, opening his mouth to answer, but unable to even utter a word. I fucked up, that’s what I did, he realizes. Like he has fucked up everything else that was ever good in his life. He doesn’t reply, though, and instead shakes his head, admitting his loss. “Here.” Dean hands her the small device with a microphone attached to it, his fingers still trembling. “Help her if she needs assistance, alright?” Perplexed, she watches him walk off. She at least expected a counter with a claim that he didn’t do anything wrong. “You’re not gonna even watch her ride?” she asks before he’s too far gone. “I’ll watch from the bleachers. I don’t wanna distract her,” he returns, sadly looking into her eyes before he carries on.

Observing her cousin, an uneasy feeling settles in her stomach. The guilt is oozing from him in great amounts as he disappears in the crowd, his head hanging, the usual upbeat attitude nowhere to be found. What has gotten into him? Something must have happened, something bad. She can’t recall the last time she has seen him this troubled, not since… Jo’s eyes grow a little larger, her brows that were knitted together a moment ago now rising. Suddenly it dawns on her; she hasn’t seen him so thrown into disarray since he arrived at the ranch at fourteen years of age. She might have been only eight at the time, but those memories lingered. The sight of a kid so scared, so depressed, and so broken left an impression. Even as a little girl she knew he had been through hell, and by the looks of her cousin now, it seems like those dark days are catching up with him.

Jo wants to go after the poor guy, but she knows she can’t abandon her best friend. When the steward calls out Y/N’s name, announcing she’s up next, she focuses on the rider again. Right now she is her main priority, because whatever happened between the intern and the wrangler, Jo knows she’s Dean’s priority too.

“Ready?” she checks while quickly drying Joplin with a towel before they head towards the gate. “Yeah, I am,” Y/N assures, pushing Dean from her thoughts. “Remember that it’s fine to pick your first cow from the side of the herd, okay? Don’t set the bar too high. It’s your first time,” the blonde cowgirl offers. “I know,” she assures, even though she’s not planning on playing it safe.

The frustration has morphed into determination, a strong will to prove that she can manage just fine and that Bobby has every reason to dote on her. She much rather feels aggravated than insecure, so she allows the anger to flood the worry, shutting out her usual insecurity. She’s not going to let anyone down, especially not herself.

Concentrated, she goes to the gate, eye for the prize. Joplin already has her ears perked towards the cattle, knowing it’s game time. The clock starts to tick, and with confidence, she guides Joplin through the group of heifers, picking one dead in the middle to single out.

She doesn’t know Dean is watching from the sidelines, and intense sadness filling his soul. She doesn’t know how proud he is when she makes two amazing cuts and she scores 73 points, outclassing him. She doesn’t know that he’s very much aware that his girl doesn’t need him anymore.

Swift strokes brush the dirt out of Joplin’s dark coat. Dust particles dance in the air, illuminated by the orange rays of the setting sun that fall through the window of the stable. The mare allows the pampering, on hindleg resting on its toe, her head hanging low. Big, brown eyes are half closed, falling shut every once in a while. Sleep almost taking the normally feisty horse, the grooming having a relaxing effect on her. It’s almost as if she realizes she’s about to go on a new adventure, and she’s taking this moment to recharge after her run.

Jody has matched Joplin with a great family. A sixteen-year-old girl will be riding her. The teenager and her parents came to meet her new horse right after the great performance, absolutely beaming, knowing this wonderful animal was now theirs. In about fifteen minutes, Joplin’s new owners will be here to take her to their farm in Alamo, New Mexico. The family promised to give the Quarter a forever home, and they showed Y/N pictures of the beautiful barn where the little dark horse is going to live. She’s going to a good place, but the farewell remains bittersweet.

Once the Joplin is thoroughly cleaned, her rider takes her by the halter, raking her fingers through her mane. Y/N has never been good at saying goodbye, but it’s time now. “Be good, okay?” she whispers, letting her hands gently run down the horse’s neck. “And don’t pin your ears back too much. People are gonna think you’re mean, but I know you’re a softy.”

Joplin breathes out a sigh through her nose as if answering the person who has been her companion for the past month. It’s peculiar how fast a bond between human and animal can form. There has been a connection between them since the first time Y/N saddled her up for a trail. The thought of buying the beautiful Quarter herself has crossed the cowgirl’s mind ever since she learned Bobby planned to sell her, but no matter how difficult, this is also an aspect of the business that she needs to get used to. When she will finally have her own stables in a year's time, horses will come and go. She can’t keep every one of them, and so she needs to set Joplin free.

Judging by the hollow sounds under the tent’s roof, the new owners are on their way. She can distinguish Jody’s voice, and Bobby’s too. A girl with long, brown hair and bright eyes peers over the stable door, already glancing at the beautiful horse lovingly. “I bought her new transport boots,” she announces enthusiastically. “Wouldn’t want her to get hurt on the trailer. I also got a rug for when it gets a little colder during the night. Do you think she will like that?” The teenager holds up a red, woolen rug, which matches the leg protection perfectly. Y/N chuckles at the sight. Joplin is going to get so spoiled. “Those look amazing.” She reaches for one of the boots. “Here, let me help.”

They strap on the protective wear together while Bobby, Jody, and the parents close the deal on the other side of the alleyway. After the money is counted, the ranch owner hands over the horse’s passport together with a certificate of ownership, shaking their hands once more. Y/N waits for her boss to look her way, wondering if he - as owner - should give Joplin away, but the old man gives her a friendly nod, telling her without words that she will have the honor.

“Well, I guess this is it,” she says, fumbling with the leadrope. “She’s yours now.” “Thank you,” the young cowgirl returns. “We will take good care of her. Promise.” Not trusting her voice, the Y/N smiles warmly, but there isn’t a doubt in her mind that the family will. She doesn’t want to get emotional, it wouldn’t be professional after all. And so she does her very best to blink the mist from her eyes when she offers the leadrope, handing over Joplin to her new owner.

The family who just gained an additional member exits the stables, heading to the trailers to start their journey home. The rider, the trader, and the rancher watch them leave, all with smiles on their faces. Everyone involved in this sale wins. Y/N can’t help it, though, and has to wipe a lonely tear from her cheek. Jody, who notices, wraps an arm around her shoulder, sheltering and comforting. “Sorry,” the cowgirl excuses, a little embarrassed. “Don’t be sorry, honey,” she dismisses sweetly. “Caring matters, especially when money comes into play. Someone who cares has far better judgment than someone who’s greedy. Remember that.” Y/N smiles at the wise words, storing that piece of advice with all the others she has picked up along the way.

“Pretty good ride,” Bobby compliments his intern, in his own way trying to cheer her up. “Especially at your first cutting class.” Jody glances aside at the ranch owner, not impressed with his choice of words, before pulling the cowgirl closer into a side hug. “Pretty good? Are you kidding me? You absolutely slayed it! If you’re not giving that girl a rider’s fee, I will.” “Oh, that’s really not necessary,” Y/N objects. “No, you deserve it,” he insists while leafing through the hundred dollar bills in a large envelope. “Bobby, it’s okay. I am already super grateful for everything I’m learning and the experiences that I’m gaining. You have already given me a room and a stable, not to mention Ellen’s cooking. You really don’t have to pay me.”

Y/N shortly places her hand on her boss’s to seize his actions, wanting him to stop counting. The Gold Canyon Ranch might have made good money over the past three days, yet that doesn’t mean a financial disaster is avoided. She doesn’t want a share. The old man holds her gaze and she can tell he’s wondering if either Dean or Jo have spilled a little too much information. Maybe it is because of that assumption that he settles and lets it go. “At least lemme buy you a drink, huh?” he offers before he turns to his business partner. “I just have to round a few things up with Jody here.” “Alright, see you in a bit,” Y/N returns.

As the two business partners walk off to look for a private place where Bobby can give the woman who has made the sale possible her commissioner’s fee, the cowgirl slips into the tack room. She decides to start packing, since the crew presumingly will leave in a couple of hours. She has to keep busy, but Dean breaks into thoughts straight away. Sighing deeply, the cowgirl tries to wrap her head around her boyfriend’s reasoning. His words, which had her freeze to the ground for a second as she left him with his father, still ring in her ears. She’s just an intern. Why would he say such a thing? Why hadn’t he expressed that she is his girlfriend? Why did he never mention his father to her? And if he isn’t even able to talk to her about his family, what else is he hiding?

Her train of thought is interrupted by Jo, who hastily rushes around the corner, her restless eyes searching the tack room before she checks the stables. “Have you seen Dean?” she asks, concerned. “No,” Y/N bitterly answers. “Okay, enough.” Jo places her hands on her hips, shifting her weight to one leg. “What the hell is going on with you two?” “You tell me,” her friend responds coldly. “I was under the impression we were doing just fine until Dean wasn’t even able to introduce me. Clearly, I value our relationship more than he does.”

“What are you talking about? He’s crazy about you,” the blonde cowgirl reminds her. “Is he?” Y/N spins on her heels, finally looking her in the eye. “Because for someone who claims to care about me, he sure keeps an awful lot of secrets.” Jo sighs. “Look, I know Dean isn’t the guy who’s very chatty about those kinds of things, but what makes you say that he doesn’t care?” “Because he couldn’t even tell his family - who he failed to tell me about, by the way - that I’m his girlfriend! He told his father that I am just an int--” “Whoa whoa, wait. His father?” Her best friend stares at her bug-eyed, needing a moment to process the information. “His father is here?!” “Yeah, he showed up in the stables earlier to visit him, before I got on Joplin,” she confirms, somewhat confused by her shocked expression. Jo steps towards the intern, grabbing both her shoulders and looking at her intensely. “Are you absolutely sure?” Y/N shrugs a little, not understanding the earnesty. “He looked a lot like Dean, and he called him his son, so I’m assuming.”

Her best friend just gapes at her, her cousin’s demeanor by the warm-up ring suddenly making much more sense. If he had an encounter with his father, his entire world just got turned upside down. Judging by how messed up he was when his only living parent left him to rot when he was still a child, she can only imagine what his return after all that time has set in motion.

“We need to find Dean, now,” she says, grabbing her friend by the wrist and pulling her out of the tack room. “I’ll explain along the way.” Unsettled, Y/N fastens her pace to jog next to the ranch owner’s daughter. “Jo, what’s going on?” “Dean didn’t lie to you when he said that he hadn’t seen his family in a while. In fact, the two haven’t been in contact for fifteen years,” she explains as they exit the stables.

Stunned by the revelation, the cowgirl next to her tries to make sense of it all. Fifteen years? Why would he have cut all ties with his dad for fifteen years? She can’t possibly imagine doing such a thing. Something horrible must have happened, something beyond comprehension. “That still doesn’t explain why he described me as anything else but his girlfriend,” Y/N brings up. “Listen, you don’t know John. He is a manipulative son of a bitch who has played dirty mind games before. If Dean let on that you were just someone working at the ranch, he was trying to protect you.” Y/N stops dead in her tracks, her hand which is still entwined with Jo’s causing her friend to spin around. “He w - what?”

“You need to talk to him,” her friend insists, dragging her into motion again. “My guess is that he found a place to be alone or he’s liquoring up. Either way, your man is spiraling out of control and he's gonna need his girl in order to get out of that vicious circle.” “He - he won’t talk to me,” she stammers. “Not after how I was with him before my run. God, I can’t believe I was so self-absorbed. I thought he didn’t want me there because he was embarrassed of me, and you’re telling me he was making sure I was safe?”

Jo wishes her companion wouldn’t put herself down like that, because the blonde cowgirl honestly gets why she reacted the way she did, being unaware of the family drama. She never thought the day would come, but here she is, defending her cousin’s honor.

“Like I said; he’s crazy about you, Sis. He has never been like this with somebody else, so if there’s anyone who can through to him it’s you. He might try to--” “- push me away, I know. That’s kind of his thing. I won’t let him,” Y/N promises. Jo nods at that, glad she was able to convince her. “Good, now we just have to find him.”

They arrive at the square where all the shops are situated, most of the stand holders packing their unsold products into cars and onto trailers. The sun has disappeared behind the horizon, the skies painted with red. There are a few people around, music coming from the tent further up where the after-party is in full swing. They meet Benny at the crossing, though, who is looking for his friend as well. “Have you seen him?” Y/N asks the farrier, who has the same worried frown on his face as the girls. “I tried the trailers, but no luck,” Benny says. “Stables?” But she shakes her head. “We were just there.”

The three glance aside when a group of young guys stumbles out of the tent, alternated colored beams in their wake, coming from the disco lights inside. The concern that has Jo’s intestines in knots worsens, because if Dean has hit the bar, reasoning with him is going to be problematic.

Y/N enters the tent, backed up by the other two members of the Gold Canyon Ranch. The band plays a happy, upbeat country song that contradicts the alarming anxiety and dread that is riding her nerves like a racetrack. Frantically, she looks around, trying to identify her boyfriend amongst the crowd. She doesn’t see him in the booths on her right, nor around the dancefloor which she and Dean owned two nights prior. Once she convinces him that she understands why he said those things and that he did nothing wrong, she can wrap her arms around him again, comfort him with a kiss and ask him for another dance. He can continue to be the wonderful, supportive boyfriend, making her laugh and making her smile, lifting her up and making her feel appreciated. They can go back to how things were.

Trying to convince herself that everything is going to be fine, she moves through the mass of people towards the beer taps, when she stops suddenly, the wind being knocked from her lungs by the sight in front of her. At the end of the bar, she finds Dean. Not nursing a beer, sad and alone like she expected to find him, but in company of the same girl who was all over him on Friday night as well; Jamie. The cowboy, already intoxicated, leaning into her when the blonde whispers something in his ear, touching his arm as she does. A blind man would be able to see the chemistry, their conversation easy and carefree. The beautiful girl seated on the stool next to her boyfriend doesn’t show a sign of insecurity, her cheerful and confident personality matching Dean’s perfectly. She is everything Y/N isn’t.

Unable to move, she watches the film play out before her, a story of fun and romance that will push her story with Dean to a tragic end. Tears begin to fill her eyes, her breath hitching in her throat. A part of her hopes that he will turn around and see the devastation that his actions are causing, but he doesn’t, occupied by the gorgeous old flame which seems to have ignited something new. He doesn’t even see me, she realizes. He doesn’t see her, because once again it has been made perfectly clear she’s not worth holding on to. That has always been the case whenever it came to love, hasn’t it? So why on earth did she think that with Dean it was going to be any different? And just like that, she’s back to being invisible again.

Abruptly, Y/N turns around, desperately needing to get out of the buzzing atmosphere, but she collides with Jo the second she does. “Woah! Where are you--” Jo steadies her friend when she almost falls over, holding her by her arms. Stunned, she stares into her eyes, noticing how they are glazed over with absolute heartbreak. “What’s going on?”

But Y/N just shakes her head, moving past her hastily; she can’t stay here a second longer. The upset girl struggles towards the exit and ignores Benny, who watches her departure, perplexed. When he straightens himself again, he glances at Jo, as much confusion on his features as on hers. But when his focus locks on his buddy at the bar, his face falls. “That son of a bitch,” he mutters, his remark triggering the blonde cowgirl before him to turn around as well.

Jo’s jaw falls slack, observing as the two order another round of shots. She can’t believe what she’s seeing. She can’t believe she’s witnessing the man who she thought had made a change for the better, now making a turn for the worse. Frustration boils inside of the petite yet feisty woman, who is biting down hard on her bottom lip when she faces Benny again. “You talk some sense into him before he really crosses the line,” she directs. “I’m gonna go after Y/N and see if I can repair the damage.”

The broad-shouldered wrangler nods and watches Jo take off before he goes in the other direction. He pushes through the mass of people who are enjoying the last party of the event, all oblivious to the dramatic scene they are all a part of. He senses that the drama might become a whole lot worse if he doesn’t manage to pull Dean’s head off his ass.

“What do you think you’re doin’, brother?” Benny claps his hand on his friend’s shoulder, interrupting him before he downs the shot waiting for him on the bar. He scoffs. “What does it look like?” “Seems to me you’re about to get a lil’ too friendly with a gal that ain’t yours,” the farrier says with a lowered voice, hoping it will enlighten him. “We’re just having a drink,” Dean counters, annoyed, reaching for the glass in front of him, but Benny pushes it out of reach. “Do you think that’s what Y/N saw too when she was here just now?” Now he does get the cowboy’s attention, common sense finally pushing to the forefront. “She was here?” he questions, dumbfounded. “Yep, and you’ve got somethin’ to fix. Let’s go,” Benny suggests, his large hand flat on his companion’s back calmly pushing him off the chair and onto his feet, both men giving Jamie a short nod before they leave the party.

The fresh air slaps Dean in the face when he exits the tent, sobering him up enough to realize how bad he screwed up. He knew it was a horrible idea to do the one thing his dad always did when the pain got too much to bear; hit the alcohol and drown his sorrow. But that’s the thing, isn’t it? No matter how hard he fights, no matter how different he aspires to be, he will always be just like his father. The same ego-centric, selfish and spineless dick that breaks everything he touches.

When the two men stop in the middle of the square, Benny looks around, trying to find the girls. He doesn’t spot them sitting at any of the outside tables, nor by the restrooms. “It don’t matter, I already fucked it up anyway,” Dean mutters when his friend glances between the market shops. The farrier pauses his search and gazes at him superciliously through half-lidded eyes. “No disrespect, Chief, but what the hell is wrong with you?” “You really want me to get started on that list? Because if so, we’re gonna be here for a while,” the wrangler returns snarky, avoiding his friend’s blue eyes, taking a few steps away with his hands on his hips. “John showing up here is not y—” “Don’t!” Dean interrupts with venom in his voice, spinning around and pointing a firm finger at Benny. “Don’t you dare bring up my father.”

He’s trembling, the anger that ran in John’s blood for years now raging through his veins. Fire sets alight his insides, flames dancing in his pupils that glare at his comrade warningly. The Southerner takes a tentative step towards him, realizing he needs to get through to Dean, but has to handle the subject as carefully as possible. “You are not him. I know this,” he speaks slow. “I know you love Y/N, too.”

But Dean scoffs and shakes his head, not just denying that he does, but refusing to allow himself that kind of fulfillment. He was stupid to even think that he ever had a chance with her. It was just a matter of time before it all would come crashing down on him, ruining everything that he never deserved in the first place. He can’t love her, because if he does, she will fall victim to him, just like he did to his dad.

“Listen, brother. You’re not seein’ straight right now, but you can still make this right,” Benny continues. “You care too much about her to just throw in the towel. Remember when she first came to the ranch? You were smitten the second she walked through those doors. You called dibs on her for a reason.”

The cowboy’s shoulders rise as he inhales deeply and fall again when he blows out a breath. Of course he remembers. He remembers the first time he laid eyes on her over his poker cards, how she responded to him from across the saloon. He remembers how she gave him a run for his money when he came on too strong. He remembers how he panicked when she didn’t seem interested and the idea of her being with someone else had him strike an agreement with his best mate. He remembers the rides, their first kiss, the moment i-- “You called dibs on me?”

Stunned by the unexpected voice, both men turn to where it came from. Benny gulps thickly when he notices Y/N stepping from under the awning of one of the food trucks, Jo in her shadow. Even in the dim glow from the overhanging strings of lightbulbs, he can see her eyes shimmer with despair. “Y/N, it ain’t as bad as it s--” But the cowgirl cuts him off immediately, shooting Benny a glare. “You can stop with the Southern smooth talk. I need to talk to Dean alone.”

After exchanging looks over the course of several uncomfortable seconds, both Benny and Jo step aside, sauntering away from the couple. Once their friends have disappeared behind one of the trailers, Y/N returns her focus to her boyfriend again, her judgemental stare boring into his soul. “I asked you a question,” she repeats, managing to prevent her voice from trembling. “Did you make some kind of pact with your buddies?”

Dean doesn’t answer, but he sets his jaw, the muscles flexing under his stubble. He lifts his eyes from the ground for a moment, glancing over before he averts them again. The woman standing a few feet away from him chuckles cynically; she knows enough.

“So what, women are like cattle to you? This is a funny bet?” The cowboy frustratingly shakes his head once. “You know it’s not.” “Do I?!” Y/N returns, her tone sharper and higher than anticipated. “Because if this isn’t just a game, then why did you shove me aside for some blonde broad--” “For fuck’s sake, we were just having a drink! We had this argument already!” Dean snaps, throwing his arms to the side.

Taken aback by the hostility, Y/N stares at him. She has seen this anger before, but just a glimpse of it. It was when Ash lost his job and blamed them, in particular Dean, who took the acquisitions hard. That evening it was mostly guilt that triggered the cowboy to lash out to her and the second he realized he had upset her, he apologized. But now an apology doesn’t even seem to cross his mind that is clouded by darkness far greater. At this point, she’s not sure if she would be able to accept it anyway.

“Well, it didn’t make much of a difference, now did it?” she returns after using the dreadful silence to recover. “Apparently not,” Dean scoffs, shifting his unfocused gaze aside. Mulling over the chain of events that have led to this moment, he swallows with difficulty, indignation taking off the heat for a bit, stopping it from boiling over. The calm gives Y/N enough courage to step closer. “Dean, I know today was a whirlwind. I know - I’m aware that what happened in the stables earlier has sent you into a tailspin,” she sympathizes, careful not to mention his father after witnessing his outburst with Benny when he did, “but this isn’t you.”

The disheartened guy before her huffs again, sardonic and hopeless. That’s the whole point, isn’t it? Because it’s exactly who he is. This is who he was always destined to be. It’s how he was raised, it’s in his DNA. For two months he allowed himself to hope that maybe he could change, that maybe he could be better than the poor excuse of a man his father was. Y/N gave him that pipe dream, and even though it’s unreasonable to be upset with her for seeing the good in him, it’s amongst one of the many frustrations he’s experiencing.

“It is. This -” Dean points at himself, his upper lip twitching with disgust. “- this is who I am.” She shakes her head, not ready to give up. “It’s not. You are kind, loving, your heart is--” “You don’t know me!” He exclaims, running a hand through his hair and trapping the light-brown locks between his fingers before he gestures wildly. “You think you do, but you don’t have a fucking clue! I haven’t told you anything about my life--” “Then talk to me!” Y/N yells back as he turns away from her. “I CAN’T!!”

Dean is facing her again, vexation flaring in his emerald green eyes. His heart beats so vigorously that it has his entire body pulsating. He takes her in, the beautiful young woman who he fell for, and he can see that her hope is fading. It pains him to hurt her, but he’s left with no choice. Being angry with him will make things easier, though. It will help her move on. If she is going to feel sorry for him, the pity would only prompt the caring girl to hold on and try to piece the shattered shards back together, and he can’t let that happen, simply because it’s useless. He refuses to take her down with him, to burden her with the same demons that he has to live with. He can’t do that to her, not to the one he loves. She’s way too good for him, so pure, so selfless and gentle. She’s everything he shouldn’t have, everything he isn’t worthy of. It’s better this way, it’s better to end it now.

“I can’t. Who you think I am, it’s not me. I’ve been lying to you, pretending. I can’t be the person you need me to be,” he claims, calmer now that he knows what he has to do.

Y/N’s breathing picks up slightly, the air leaving her with a shudder each time. His words seem so definite already, but he can’t possibly believe that they are not right for each other, can he? All those moments they shared, all the affection he offered; that was real. That was him. Why can’t he see he’s exactly the man she needs? “And what person is that?” she questions, hoping that whatever argument he fires back, she can turn around.

Dean is quiet for a few seconds, thinking about a fitting answer. The profound fondness he feels for her begins to resurface and it’s tearing him apart. She needs to understand that the fairytale they have been living is a facade he can’t continue to maintain. Dreams never last forever, this is where they wake up. “You need a guy who is honest, who you can trust. Look at us; I can’t even bring myself to tell you about my family, my past, or anything for that matter,” he reminds her. “I knew what I was in for, Dean. I don’t expect you to spill every dark secret you think you have. You don’t have to spell out everything to be with me. We can work it out!” she argues desperately. But the cowboy shakes his head, feeling the sorrow brim in his eyes. He wants her to be right so bad, but he knows he can’t live a lie. “You don’t get it, okay? I’m a fucking mess. I did things that are unforgivable. I don’t have my shit together, but you do,” he says, a sad smile barely pulling at the corner of his mouth. “You know exactly where you wanna go in life, what you want to achieve.” She steps closer, praying that if he lets her, she can eventually bridge the space between them. “We can do that together,” she pleads with all the hope she has left. “We can’t,” he returns, having gathered every bit of strength to look at her before he pronounces the words who he knows are the truth. “This isn’t gonna work.”

The tears that have gathered become too much even for a dam to withhold roll down her cheeks now. An already unbearable ache gets worse, her heart physically hurting and taking up so much space that Y/N feels like she can’t breathe. He can’t be doing this. He can’t pull the plug, not after all the epic moments they shared. Every warm look, every gentle touch, every loving kiss; every blissful memory. How can he possibly let go of that? Refusal has her reach out to him, one last attempt to repair what is already broken. “Dean, stop… Why are you hurting me like this?” she cries.

The cowboy drops his gaze while fighting the tears and the grief for what he’s losing. He wants to reach out too, take her hand in his, but he can’t cave now, he can’t be selfish. He has to do this for her. “Because if I don’t, if I allow this to go any further, it’s gonna hurt a lot more.” Dean fixates on anything but Y/N, no longer able to endure the sight of her falling apart in front of him. It’s dreadfully quiet as if the world stopped turning, and in a way, for the two individuals in the middle of the square, it just did. “So - so what? This is it?” she stammers, her voice barely a whisper. “You’re breaking up with me?” Biting his lip now, he focuses on what this decision will offer the woman at arm’s reach. An uncomplicated life in which she can pursue her dreams without having to worry about someone dragging her down. She can be free to do whatever she wishes and that’s all he can ask for. But in order to provide her with that opportunity, he has to let her go. “Yeah. We’re over.”

Like a bullet fired from a gun, the defining words rip through her chest and pierce her heart. The silence after the shot is deafening, canceling out the sounds of their surroundings. The streaming pathways of desolation gather at the end of her chin and drip down on the dry soil, enough to darken the dust. Her eyes are glued on him, though, but he doesn’t return her gaze. The conclusion of their relationship sinks in with every passing second, leaving her soul in ruins. It’s over. They are over. And there is nothing she can do to change the course of history.

Unable to be in his presence, she forces her feet to move, turning away from the man she is no longer with. Dean can’t watch her leave, fixed on the dark earth where her tears fell just moments ago. From his peripheral vision, he notices Jo rushing by to go after her friend. Good, he thinks to himself, she’ll have someone to lean on.

After standing there for what feels like an hour, he takes a few hesitant steps towards one of the trailers, placing both hands flat on the metal, searching for something to ground him while he closes his eyes and lets his head hang. He can’t find it, though, not in the cold steel, not in his reasoning behind this brutal decision. The resentment builds again, and Dean pulls his right hand back, balls his fist, and almost puts a dent into the barrier before him. The action only confirms what he deep down knew to be true all along. All that rage, the self-hatred; he can’t bottle it up forever, so it’s for the best that Y/N will no longer be there to witness it.

Dean bends his elbows, his forearms now pressed against the iron and his forehead resting between his clenching fists, as he struggles to pull in a shaky breath. He feels like he’s imploding, the outer frame of his structure caving in on itself. His mouth falls open, his bottom lip trembling, then he allows the tears to cascade down his face.

He can sense Benny by his side, but Dean is too wrapped up in his own destruction to really acknowledge him. The comforting hand on his shoulder is a touch he barely registers, his body is already rebuilding its emotional walls, caging away his ability to feel and casting it in a permanent shadow. That’s where it will remain, encapsulated in darkness, cut out from the light that his girl had to give. Benny stays by his side, though, letting him know that he is there for his friend, as much as Jo is there for hers.

“Sis, wait,” the ranch owner’s daughter tries desperately, following the woman who just had her heart broken into the stables. Her request remains unanswered, Y/N only stopping when she has reached Meadow’s box, her hands shaking while she tries to unlock the door. When she’s unable to, Jo quickly steps in and opens the gate, holding it for her companion. The bay horse has lifted her head, alerted by the commotion in the alley, but clearly recognizes the person stepping inside. She seems confused by her owner’s frail state of mind, though, pricked ears and concerned eyes taking in the situation.

The cowgirl folds an arm around Meadow’s neck while she buries her face in the Quarter’s brown coat, then she breaks. She breaks into a million segments, lost in the mixture of wood shavings and straw underneath their feet. The air is too thin to breathe and sobs wreck her entire form.

Never in her life has she felt so unwanted, purposeless, and vulnerable as she’s feeling now. Dean let her in and she trusted him to handle her with grace, yet the second she was comfortable with this new way of being, he pushed her out. She thought she knew the man she felt such a strong connection with. Yes, she realized very early on that it was going to be difficult to get through to him. The soldier with thick armor had stacked the barricades high, but that never intimidated her. After all, she had climbed mountains before.

She gave Dean her all, but in the end, it turns out it was useless. Y/N isn’t even sure what’s real and what’s not, if the cowboy has been wearing a mask all along, or just now turned into someone that he isn’t. It doesn’t matter, though. He has made himself perfectly clear; she is not the girl he wants to be with.

The only one stopping her from collapsing is Meadow, who holds still like a statue, aware that if she moves, her owner will fall to the ground and might never be able to get up again. The horse senses exactly how to handle Y/N, the usually so spirited mare now timid and calm, picking up on the despairing energy.

Jo, who had silently slipped into the tack box to get a bottle of water and some tissues, comes back into the stable, tearing up at the sight of the two who have such a strong bond. The thousand-pound animal has curved her neck around her human, resting her large head on the cowgirl’s shoulder. As if trying to comfort her, Meadow twitches her lips, gently rubbing them against her owner’s back, her way of showing affection. People can be cruel sometimes, to others, to horses. Jo has witnessed it, and she knows Dean has too, which has ultimately led to his dreadful decision to cut Y/N loose, and by doing so he has hurt her in terrible ways himself. But at least the girl has her horse.

Meadow, who is oblivious to the reason behind her owner’s sorrow, offers solace nonetheless. Quietly, she waits until the cries die down and the tears begin to dry, and even then she stays close to her person, having a better sense of direction than most humans do. Y/N’s four-legged friend is honest, treats her with kindness, and loves her unconditionally. It’s a special connection no man can ever steal away, yet many can learn from. This incredible being is her soul horse, a term Dean has taught her, the one who she thought was going to be her partner in life until he decided otherwise. He is right, though; it is over between them. She has lost Dean’s heart, but at the end of the day, no matter what happens, she will always have Meadow.

That’s that then. They are over...

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).

Read part twenty-five here

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