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astridthevalkyrie · 8 months ago

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a weak heart | rafayel x reader

“Let’s go all the way, tonight, no regrets, just love,” she sings, and her voice is a little pitchy but Rafayel could listen to it all day, “we can dance, until we die, you and I, we’ll be young forever!” How very wrong she is about that last part. It’s almost funny. Someone with such a weak heart shouldn’t be this cocky.

cw: reader has she/her pronouns, fluff, light angst, rafayel being bratty but also down incredibly bad

word count: 1.4k

There’s a dip in the bed that alerts Rafayel to her presence. He’d already known she was inside, even though her footsteps were hushed. He’d heard her walk in and feed Reddie, and he almost gave up the vow he made to himself not to engage with her just so he could snark about how she was more invested in seeing the fish than in seeing him.

(Of course, she very well may have gone to the studio to look for him and decided to feed Reddie while she was already in there, but. He doesn’t want to be reasonable right now. He wants to be upset with her. And she gives him so little to get upset with because she is and always has been some kind of angel descended from the heavens with an embarrassingly weak heart, so he needs to take whatever chances he can get.)

A soft touch to the back of his neck is followed by a quick kiss to his cheek. “Rafayel?”

He doesn’t answer.

“I know you’re awake, Raf.” Well, his eyes are open so. Great observation, idiot. “You’re not even gonna talk to me?”

The window he’s staring through is so fascinating all of a sudden, all bright and stale with an afternoon light he’s painted a billion times. Literally a billion. That’s how old he is. One would think he’d learned to be patient in that time, but one would also think that after waiting for a woman for centuries, she could cut him some slack and not make him wait any longer.

(Not that she knows that but. Still.)

“It was really last minute.” She kisses his cheek again, hovering over him and he wants so badly to gaze up at her, because that will be something he’s never painted before—he’d title it Requiem For A Bland Thursday and Thomas would sell it for a couple hundred million and he’d tell her that and she would only ask him to buy her a rainbow popsicle because there isn’t a greedy bone in her body.

“I was going to text, Raf, I promise I was, but I’d pulled a night shift already and my phone was dead and Xavier and I both left our chargers at home, and we didn’t have a chance to stop and charge anyways.”

Always an excuse. Always a valid excuse that he can find no fault with. But it isn’t fair. The people she works with—Tara, Xavier, Captain Jenna who she’s definitely a little in love with—get her attention and her time every hour of every day. If there’s a mission to do, she’ll drop everything and do it. And Rafayel gets the crumbs, the vacation days and the after hours, whenever she remembers him enough to spare her time.

What’s worse than that is the fear. He doesn’t let it show through text, always opting to send whatever he thinks will make her smile, but everytime hours pass without a response from her, fear seizes his poor heart. All the twisted and cruel things that could possibly happen to her start playing on repeat in his head.

“Rafayel,” she pleads, tilting her forehead against his temple. “Please, look at me?”

His chest burns hot.

When he finally looks up, he finds he’s absolutely correct in his hunch. She presents like a masterpiece, hair mussed from whatever fights Xavier clearly couldn’t protect her from. Her eyes shine tiredly, lighting up when they gaze into his. And Rafayel’s heart releases a painful thump, thump, thump because if he could spend eternity with her looking at him the way she is now, he’d easily live the rest of his immortal life the happiest person in the universe.

She leans down and pecks his lips apologetically. “I’m sorry for making you wait.”

(It’s what she always does.)

“It’s what you always do,” he says, not harsh but definitely blasé enough to make her wince. “Why should this time be any different?”

A sigh escapes her, and he starts to feel that old guilt again. To hold her up to a standard because he fell in love with two other versions of her, and to give her grief for being late as though she wasn’t doing an incredibly important job keeping people safe—it’s not exactly fair. To either of them, but specifically to her.

And yet, it’s not like he spends his time with her imagining a princess running through the sands calling his name. This version of her makes his heart pound all the same, whether she’s absolutely beating his ass at the card game in the cafe, or resting her head on his shoulder from behind while he paints, or when she’s in his bed just like this.

The biggest similarity is that damn sick bleeding heart.

“What do I need to do for you to forgive me?” She tilts his chin up with her index finger, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw. Rafayel could never imagine being spoiled like this even if he was to be sitting on the throne in Lemuria right now, with jewels and gold surrounding him and beautiful maidens offering their hands.

Somehow, this is more. Somehow, this is better.

“There’s nothing you can do,” he answers flatly, “and there’s nothing I can do. So let me be mad at you in peace.”

Her response is to brush the bangs from his forehead and drop a kiss to his forehead as well. “You make me feel like I’m in high school all over again,” she teases quietly, a small smile playing on the corner of her lips now. “My teenage dream.”

He groans. “Don’t—“

How very wrong she is about that last part. It’s almost funny.

Someone with such a weak heart shouldn’t be this cocky.

“Is this my punishment?” His nose wrinkles. “To hear you sing terrible renditions of already overplayed songs?”

Her giggle is the real music to his ears. “You’re an artist, you should know talent when you hear it.”

“I do,” he insists, realizing too late that he’s giving in. The lightness in his stomach is a bit frightening too. This is the same woman who carved out his heart. This is the same woman who needed to do nothing but flutter her lashes at him to make him give in to her any request. If, tomorrow, she were to ask him to rip his own scales from his body and place the bloody pieces in her palm, he’d do so without question.

Her hand comes up to rest on his cheek and he leans into it with a soft sigh almost on instinct. Such power she possesses, over the God of the Sea, and she’s the only person who would never even fathom abusing it.

“You’re cold,” she murmurs, caressing his cheek. “Why do you always keep your house so cold?”

(So that she can warm him up so that she can warm him up so that she can warm him up so that she can warm him up so that she can warm him up so that she can—)

“It’s better for blood circulation.”

Her thumb gently brushes over his lower lip, like she’s mapping out her quest to treasure. “That’s like, objectively not true, Raf. My friend’s a doctor, he told me that cold is better for short-term pain and warmth is better for—“

“If you’re cold,” he interrupts, “get under the sheets.”

A brilliant, blinding smile lights up her face as she does just that, slipping under next to him and laying down at a slightly elevated level so she can tuck his head into her chest. Warmth runs through him like a flood, even the leather of her uniform is comforting because it’s smooth and light and smells just like her. Her lips press to the top of his head.

“I really am sorry,” she whispers, running her fingers through his hair, “I’ll do my best to text you and let you know next time, okay?”

And if she doesn’t, Rafayel thinks, curling into her more, they will still end up like this, quiet words and mutual teasing, memories of the past that he will forever be cursed by and she will never be burdened with, a heart that dances to the tune of her commands, wrapped up in each other, and absolutely nothing will change.

Because who really has a weak heart?

(It’s not her.)

#love and deepspace #l&ds #love and deepspace rafayel #rafayel x reader #rafayel x mc #rafayel #valkyrie stories

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tervaneula · 1 year ago

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Leonardo sighs into the white fur his snout is blissfully buried in.

“You’re so soft,” he mumbles and burrows even further into the warmth in his lap, pulling Yuichi’s back flush against his plastron.

“We’ve established that about thirty times in the last thirty minutes,” the rabbit chuckles and keeps letting himself be treated like the world’s largest teddy bear. “I should get going though. Your brother is giving me the stink eye.”

Huh. Leonardo hadn’t even noticed anyone coming into the room from the midst of his trip to Fuzzy Land.

“...which one?”

“Little Mikey.”

Leonardo snorts, inadvertently giving Yuichi a light raspberry and he snickers at the tickle of it.

“Don’t call him that where he can hear you, lest you evoke the fury of Dr. Delicate Touch.”

“I think he heard me…”

That gets Leonardo to lift his face up from the fluffy heaven he would’ve been content to spend the rest of eternity in and sure enough, Mikey is downright glaring at them at this point from his seat across the room, arms crossed, a refurbished and heavily modified N-Gage (provided by Genius Built™, of course) he’d apparently been playing games on now laying forgotten in his lap.

It’s baffling until Leonardo remembers with a jolt that he had promised to go with him to Run of the Mill today. A cursory glance at the clock on the wall tells him that they’re well past the agreed time to leave.

He audibly swallows.

“Heyyyy, big man–” he starts but Mikey levels him with an icy glare that doesn’t let him continue and he shrinks, squeezing Yuichi’s middle as if the rabbit could hide him from the quiet fury of his little brother. Yuichi stays silent, no doubt amused by the much bigger man cowering behind him. He’s only heard about both Michelangelos’ different personas and he’s curious to see if any of the infamous doctors will make an appearance this time. Obviously, he’s partly to blame for whatever’s about to occur but while curiosity might kill the cat, satisfaction always brings it back.

“You know what. It’s okay. It’s perfectly fine to forgo your promise and let your baby brother starve in favour of some cuddles you can get like, iunno, every dang day,” the box turtle says, ice dripping from his voice as he gets up from the armchair and saunters right up to the personal space of the two swordsmen.

“And the stink eye was for Leo,” he adds and forcefully jabs Leonardo in the forehead with his finger.

“I’m sorry!” Leonardo squeaks, his head retracting into his shell on instinct. Despite his foul mood, Mikey grins.

Yuichi looks behind his shoulder… and freezes.

The smugness radiating from Mikey changes into confusion as the rabbit just keeps staring at the space where Leonardo’s head used to be.

“Wait, have you never seen him do that before?” he asks, and Yuichi slowly turns his head to look at him. Finally finding his tongue, he almost screeches,

“That’s normal?!”

Mikey bursts into laughter.

“We’re turtles! Obviously! Look!”

Yuichi’s eyes sting with how they’re nearly bulging out of their sockets as Mikey demonstrates his ability to retract all of his limbs with ease and his shell falls to the floor with a clang.

“Ta-dah!” he exclaims from within and pushes his arms out enough to make jazz hands at Yuichi.

“Oh my stars,” the rabbit mumbles and suddenly lightheaded, he leans against Leonardo’s body. The slider finally gets his nerves in check and pops his head back out with a grunt – it’s a tight fit, has been for years, and he’s inherently glad that only a few things are scary enough (Mikey being one of them doesn’t exactly make his life easier but that’s not here nor there) to make him retract any of his body parts.

He nestles his chin in the crook of Yuichi’s neck and can’t keep the amusement out of his voice.

“Did I actually spook you?”

Yuichi draws a deep breath and slumps bonelessly into the slider’s hold.

“You bet,” he mutters, “that’s so weird. You’re so weird.”

Leonardo barks out a laugh. “Excuse me! You’re not exactly a model example of normal either, mister universe-hopping, not-a-yokai-nor-a-mutant bunny rabbit.”

Mikey decides to pop out of his shell at that moment, groaning.

“Uuuugh nooo, don’t start with the banter! You’re lucky your boyfriend is un excellent comic relief. I’m so hungry, Leo! Let’s go already!”

Feeling bad for forgetting his promise, Leonardo relinquishes his hold on his heaven-on-earth with a quick peck on his cheek.

“I’ll portal you home. See you tomorrow?”

Yuichi sighs but can’t help the smile that tugs the corners of his mouth upwards. “See you tomorrow,” he replies and gets up from Leonardo’s lap. Mikey moves out of his way, having fished his phone out of a pocket on his belt.

“I’m gonna text our order to Hueso,” he grumbles but the earlier fit of laughter seems to have drained all the venom out of his voice and he only sounds a little vexed. Yuichi almost reaches out to pat his head but thinks better of it and hides his hands in the sleeves of his yukata.

“I’m sorry for keeping your brother,” he apologises with a small bow, “had I known he had a promise to keep, I would’ve excused myself earlier.”

Mikey huffs, his thumbs still flying across the screen of his phone. No doubt Leonardo is going to pay for his transgressions in the form of a massive dinner order. “It’s not your responsibility, but I appreciate that!”

Leonardo shakes his head fondly. He’s infinitely glad that his family has accepted Yuichi so quickly and therefore the rabbit could afford to lose some of that politeness, but he has to admit that it’s also pretty adorable. He gets up to retrieve a katana (formerly a butter knife – one of the more banged-up ones the Mikeys wouldn’t miss) from the conveniently placed wall mount and rotates his wrist to open a portal right to the middle of Yuichi’s living room.

“I’m still not used to you doing that,” the rabbit says, staring at the swirling mystic energy with more than a little awe. “It’s so convenient! I don’t think there’s a single person in Neo Edo who can do magic like this.”

“Well duh, only a Hamato can have ninpo like ours!” Mikey puts his phone away and demonstrates his abilities by manifesting a golden chain which he uses to yank the sword out of Leonardo’s grasp.

“Hey!”

“My turn!” Mikey giggles and swings the katana through the air, leaving it spinning near the ceiling. Leonardo sighs and hurries to walk Yuichi to the portal before his concentration fades and he has to make it again. The rabbit steps into it obediently but before Leonardo can bid him farewell, he turns around to lean back over the threshold and pulls Leonardo down to squish their snouts together. It’s not really a kiss, per se, but it has the desired effect anyway as the slider’s eyes widen comically and his cheeks flush crimson. Yuichi lets go and steps back with a huge grin, his eyes glinting with mirth.

“Have fun at dinner! Give my regards to Señor Hueso!”

Leonardo can only stare after him, the heat on his face practically rivalling the sun, and Mikey has to elbow him in the ribs to get him back in the present.

“Y-yeah! Bye!” he says, a goofy smile plastered on his embarrassingly red face and Yuichi waves him goodbye as the portal closes.

Now that there’s no more lovey-dovey nonsense in the way of their dinner, Mikey doesn’t waste a moment to manoeuvre the katana into his hand to grab the hilt in order to slice through the air to make a portal to the pizzeria. The crackling blue ring of magic that appears is small and it wavers before fizzling out and, lucky for the slider, Leonardo manages to suppress his snort in time.

“Aw man, I thought I had it this time!”

“No can do, big guy,” Leonardo salutes him and motions for the box turtle to give the sword back to him. Mikey sighs and acquiesces. The portal into the graffitied alleyway appears effortlessly and Mikey immediately jumps in, yelling at the slider to follow.

Leonardo does, but not before brushing his fingers over his beak, still feeling the tingle Yuichi’s much softer nose left behind.

He realises he’s irrevocably smitten, and frankly, despite the trouble it landed him in today, he wouldn’t have it any other way.

LMAOOO OKAY i've never written anything this long this fast so there's probably a bunch of stuff that needs to be fixed but I needed these cuddles and I needed them now. Thank you @spacemimz for requesting them I love you SO MUCH

As you can see though, this turned into something more than just cuddles and I'm kinda. Really happy about it hahjhjhashsdg

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yanderecrazysie · 8 months ago

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Falsify (Yandere Kita)

This was requested in pms on Quotev!

Title: Falsify

Pairings: Kita Shinsuke x Reader

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, amnesiac reader

Summary: You find yourself stricken with amnesia, but thankfully your loving husband is there for you.

falsify

/verb/

alter (information or evidence) so as to mislead

When you awoke, there was a certain blankness that you felt inside. You didn’t know where you were or even who you were.

The room you were in was small, only really fitting the bed you were lying on and an armchair next to it. The bed was soft, and you found yourself wondering who you shared it with, if there was anyone at all. You lifted your head from the pillow and winced- pain ripped through your head, making you lie back down and let out a soft cry.

You raised a hand to your head and found bandages wrapped around it. So you had been injured? Was that why you couldn’t remember anything?

The door to the room creaked open suddenly and you jumped in surprise. A man poked his head into the room, his white-and-black hair framing worried brown eyes.

“(Y/n), how are you doing?” his voice was hesitant and quiet, as though he expected you to start yelling at him.

“(Y/n)? Is that my name?” you muttered, pressing your hand against the bandages around your head again. The man’s eyes widened and his mouth parted in shock.

“You… you don’t remember?” he asked, “Do you remember me?”

“No, I’m sorry…” you apologized, “I don’t remember anything.”

The man was quiet for a moment before explaining, “I’m your husband, Kita. You fell down the stairs and hit your head. I was so worried, I thought you had-” he choked up, eyes flooding with tears.

“I’m married?” you wondered, “But I don’t have a ring.”

“It must have fallen off,” Kita said, reaching for your hand, “If I can’t find it, I’ll get you a new one.”

You couldn’t help but notice his ring finger was bare too.

—----------------------

Kita was a doting husband, that much you could admit. He had found the ring that had fallen off your finger and, by God, it had a huge diamond.

He cooked every meal for you, bought you gifts, and took such good care of you. There was only one downside to your relationship with him.

He never let you leave the house.

You offered to go shopping with him, begged him to let you be a part of society once more, but he always had an excuse. Even though your head had healed, he insisted on you “resting”. Which basically meant staying in your room for eternity.

“Why won’t you let me leave the house, Kita?” you asked, swirling your fork through the scrambled eggs he had served for breakfast.

Kita was quiet, sitting across the oak wood table, watching you closely.

“It’s not like I’m going to run away,” you joked. Kita stiffened for a moment before relaxing.

“I know you won’t,” he responded, but offered no explanation, as always. You sighed and slid down in your seat, pushing your half-eaten meal to the side.

Kita frowned at your disappointment, “You know I love you, don’t you?”

“I love you too,” you replied, the words feeling foreign on your tongue, despite the number of times you had said it. He really was an amazing husband, even if he wouldn’t let you leave, so who were you to argue? Everyone had their flaws, Kita’s was just being a little possessive, right?

“Our anniversary is next week,” Kita said, “I was thinking we could go on a vacation.”

“Out of the house?” you gasped.

“Out of the house,” Kita confirmed with a smile. You beamed back at him, he really was the perfect husband.

To Kita, your amnesia was the best thing that had ever happened. Before your accident while trying to escape, you had been so disobedient and furious that he had kidnapped you. Now, you truly believed that the two of you were married, when that wasn’t the case at all.

All he had to do was reward you every once in a while, and you’d stick by his side forever, wouldn’t you? You’d believe his lie because he was all you had.

He could pretend to be the good guy, the loving, doting husband, when the truth was that he was a monster that had torn you away from everything you once knew.

Not that you’d ever find out, if he had his way.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere one shot #yandere haikyuu #yandere kita

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yncoreee · 19 days ago

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JEALOUS WIFE. Click!

You were at a meeting with your wife at her company. Of course she’d want you to sit right next to her, but she was busy scrolling through her phone all through out not bothering to pay a single bit of attention to you.

Looking up at her, you smiled but only got a cold stare back. “So boring” you thought crossing your arms over your chest and slouching down on the chair.

A few minutes later, another co-worker who happened to be your friend sat right beside you. “Hiiii y/n omg it’s been a while!” She greeted scooting her chair closer.

“Omg it has” you responded sitting up right to fully divert your attention to them. You got carried away talking to her that you had unintentionally forgotten about your wife right next to you, ignoring her burning gaze.

Julie watched as the both of you conversed for what seemed like eternity. She had tried various methods of getting your attention.

Another way crept up into her mind. She reached out to hold your hands carefully, taking it in hers, leaving the co-worker in front of you confused on what was going on.

Seeing the bewildered face the co-worker wore, you immediately let go of Julie’s hand trying your best to ignore her cold gaze.

“Uhhhh….should I leave? I feel like I’m interrupting something” the co-worker hesitantly asked, getting up to leave.

“No no no it’s—“

“Omg YES! Please go, you are interrupting something” Julie interrupted, plastering a fake apologetic smile.

You felt a mere bit of pity for the coworker, after seeing her sad expression when she was chased by your jealous wife.

“Ugh why did you kick them out just like that?” You asked, slouching low on the chair.

“Excuse you, but I had been trying to hint at them for hours that you were taken by someone AnD that someone was me, but they’re just as stupid as you” she shrugged, focusing her attention back to her phone.

“Hey! I’m not stupid”

“Yea you aren’t” she sarcastically rolled her eyes drawing you closer with her hand resting on your waist. “Now you’ll have to stay close to me, so no one tries any shit again”

#kiss of life #kiss of life x reader #kiss of life x you #kiss of life julie #julie x reader #julie fluff #🌸 — 𝐅𝐋𝐔𝐅𝐅𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑

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deerlino · 5 months ago

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lost and found.

bang chan x fem!reader / you and chan are about to get married, but the day before the wedding, he just disappears. there’s a note on your bed, and from that point on, everything goes downhill.

additional tags / angst, hurt-comfort, emotional turmoil, wedding jitters, cold feet, open ending, love confessions, pre-wedding drama, visuals (text messages, letter), apologies — 963 words in total.

content warnings / abandonment, lack of communication, commitment issues, panic and anxiety (subtle), facing fears (fear of the future ?), some strong language (cussing), chan’s kind of an asshole (😅)

further notes / writing angst is so much fun, seriously my fave genre ever. 😝 been all about the fluffy stuff lately, but i had to dive back into my roots and whip up some tasty pre-wedding angst. what do you think? i'm totally loving it, heheh. hope you enjoy the ride! <3

The day before your wedding, you can’t help but feel a buzz of excitement and nervousness. You've waited for this moment for so long, and now it's almost here. You and Chan have been inseparable since you met, and tomorrow was supposed to be the start of your forever. But when you wake up that morning, something feels off.

You stretch out your hand, expecting to find Chan beside you, but the bed is cold. Frowning, you sit up, scanning the room for any sign of him. That’s when you see it—a note on his pillow. Your heart sinks as you reach for it, hands trembling.

You stare at the words, not comprehending. Had to leave? What does that even mean? Panic starts to rise in your chest as you read the note over and over again, hoping it will magically change or offer some explanation. But it doesn’t.

You grab your phone and dial his number, but it goes straight to voicemail. “Chan, what the hell is going on? Where are you? Call me back, please,” you plead, trying to keep your voice steady.

Hours pass, and still no word from Chan. You call his friends, his family, anyone who might know where he is, but no one has seen him. Every minute feels like an eternity, and the worry is gnawing at your insides.

By afternoon, your concern turns to anger. How could he do this to you? The day before your wedding, no less. You pace the living room, clutching your phone, willing it to ring. When it finally does, you almost drop it in your haste to answer.

“Hello?”

“Y/N.” It’s Chan’s voice, but it sounds strained.

“Chan! Where are you? What’s going on?” The questions spill out before you can stop them.

“I... I’m sorry, Y/N. I just... I need some time to think.”

“Think? About what? We’re getting married tomorrow!”

There’s a long pause, and you can hear him take a deep breath. “I know. I just... I’m not sure if I’m ready.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. “Not ready? Are you fucking kidding me, Chan? We’ve been planning this for months! Why are you doing this now?”

“I didn’t want to hurt you,” he says quietly.

“Well, guess what? You did hurt me. A lot. And you could’ve talked to me instead of just disappearing.”

“I’m so sorry,” he repeats, but it feels hollow. “I just... I need to figure some things out.”

You hang up, tears streaming down your face. Why would he do this to you? You feel a mix of hurt and rage, your emotions swinging wildly. Part of you wants to find him and demand answers, while another part of you just wants to curl up and cry.

The rest of the day is a blur. You cancel the rehearsal dinner, making up excuses for why Chan isn’t there. Your friends and family try to comfort you, but nothing they say can ease the pain.

That night, you lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying every moment you’ve shared with Chan. You wonder where it all went wrong. Was it something you did? Something you said? The uncertainty is maddening.

The next morning, you wake up to a flurry of text messages. One stands out—it’s from Chan.

You hesitate, fingers hovering over the screen. Part of you wants to ignore him, to make him feel the pain you’re feeling. But the other part of you needs answers.

You arrive at the little park where you and Chan have shared so many memories. He’s sitting on the bench, looking more miserable than you’ve ever seen him. When he sees you, he stands up, but you hold up a hand to stop him.

“Just... explain,” you say, keeping your distance.

He takes a deep breath. “I’ve been freaking out, Y/N. The thought of forever, it just... it scared me. I started doubting everything, and I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“So you ran away instead? That’s real mature, Chan.”

“I know, I know. It was stupid. But I love you, and the idea of losing you terrified me even more.”

You can see the sincerity in his eyes, but the hurt is still too fresh. “You could’ve talked to me. We could’ve worked through it together.”

He nods, looking down. “I’m sorry. I should’ve. I was just so scared of disappointing you, of not being enough.”

You step closer, your anger softening a little. “Chan, we’re supposed to be a team. If you’re scared or unsure, you need to tell me. We face things together, remember?”

He looks up, tears in his eyes. “I remember. And I’m so sorry I forgot that. I promise, I’ll never run away again.”

You take a deep breath, the weight of the past day starting to lift. “This isn’t going to be easy, you know. We’ve got a lot to talk about, and it’s going to take time to rebuild that trust.”

“I know. And I’m willing to do whatever it takes,” he says, stepping closer.

You nod, feeling a small glimmer of hope. “Okay. Let’s start with talking.”

You spend the next few hours sitting on that bench, talking about everything. The doubts, the fears, the future. It’s raw and emotional, but it’s also healing. By the end of it, you both feel a bit lighter.

When you finally stand up, Chan reaches for your hand. “So, about that wedding...”

You give him a small smile. “Let’s take it one day at a time. We’ll get there when we’re both ready.”

And for the first time since you found that note, you believe it.

© deerlino (est. 110624) ༯ heyo, did you enjoy this piece? if you did, maybe you could reblog, drop a comment, or shoot me an ask to let me know your thoughts. also, feel free to check out my other stuff! thanks a bunch for the support! <3

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dee-writes-smut · 4 months ago

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Mismatched Eyes Of Fire (Chapter Two)

SUMMARY It's your first day at UA, everyone you've met has seemed genuine (with the exception of Bakugo), though one person stands out against the rest, a boy with a similar fire in his eyes that you had seen in Tenko.

CONTENT WARNINGS death, depictions of homeless children, mentions of abuse, loss, memorial shrines, and grief. For the sake of the series (and my conscience), all characters are aged up while still following the plot of MHA. In other words, think of UA as a college rather a high school.

AUTHORS NOTE three consistent updates in a row?! Look at me go, guys!

SERIES MASTERLIST

Eraserhead was eerily quiet as he led you through the halls of the school you could now call home. The hallways were a labyrinth of polished floors and sleek walls adorned with inspiring posters of pro heroes. As you followed, you couldn't help but notice the grandeur of UA: high ceilings, bright lighting, and a sense of history embedded in the very walls. The hallways buzzed with energy, the chatter of students mingling with the occasional announcement over the PA system. You walked up several steps and took even more turns before arriving at a pair of grand wooden doors with a small plaque that read "Principal Nezu."

Before opening the door, Eraserhead introduced himself as Mr. Aizawa and asked that you address him as such unless out on missions. You readily agreed, feeling a wave of gratitude toward your new teacher for sticking his neck out to help you find better sleep arrangements than the cold, dirty concrete you had been sleeping on.

Aizawa had you wait outside Principal Nezu’s office for what felt like hours as he shared your situation behind closed doors. The minutes dragged on, feeling like an eternity as you rocked back and forth on your feet, growing more anxious about the whole housing ordeal. Yes, you were now a student at UA, but the school’s dorms were for general studies students and definitely cost more than you could ever dream to afford. You stared at the polished wooden door, tracing the intricate patterns in the wood grain with your eyes, trying to calm your nerves. The soft hum of voices behind the door was barely audible, adding to your anxiety as you waited.

When the doors finally swung open, Aizawa was accompanied by the mousy principal walking elegantly at his side. Nezu, though small in stature, exuded an air of authority and intelligence that was palpable. He looked you over contemplatively, taking stock of your body language and your tattered appearance with a simple hum and a nod toward Aizawa.

"I can see now what you are talking about," the principal said, his voice soft, unwavering, and detached, which you found more unsettling than comforting. "Excuse my manners, dear," he chuckled hauntingly. "My name is Nezu. I run this academy, and it has been brought to my attention that you have nowhere to stay comfortably while you are with us, is that correct?"

You immediately nodded, a harsh blush reddening your cheeks and neck. "Yes, sir," you managed to choke out, bowing respectfully.

"No need to be embarrassed. Do you mind if I ask some questions, out of personal curiosity?" Nezu wondered, Aizawa sending him a confused look.

"Of course," you stammered in response, looking between the two men (?).

"Do you have any family?" Nezu’s question was delivered as gently as the intellectual rodent could manage.

"No," you responded quickly, your throat burning with the need to weep at the reminder of your loss, of Tenko.

"Why are you here? What is it you wish to achieve in our hero academy?" Nezu continued, his black eyes gleaming with curiosity. When you let out a shaky breath, he immediately took a breath to reign himself in. "My apologies, I am used to having a good read on the people I meet, but you seem to be an enigma. I hope I didn’t offend you."

"No!" you responded quickly. "You didn’t, it’s just a sore subject," you paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. "I raised myself on the streets since I lost both my parents before I could remember them. I guess that loneliness and feeling of invisibility pushed me to want to be a hero. I want to help people feel seen, if that makes sense," you chuckled bashfully, rubbing your neck.

"Thank you for indulging me," the principal responded somewhat cheerily, waving a paw at Aizawa who was still standing at his side. "Mr. Aizawa will show you to your room. Also, I am personally going to pay for your tuition."

"I couldn’t," you immediately declined, your head spinning at his offer. "Having free board is enough. Seriously, I will get a job or something and pay it myself."

"Nonsense," Nezu smiled—or at least that’s what you thought he was doing. "Consider it a donation made in good faith. You will be a welcome star in our hero course this year. I don’t want you to worry about anything except for your training," Nezu nodded at Aizawa before giving you one last curious look and returning to his office. You thanked him hesitantly before the heavy doors closed.

"This way," Aizawa huffed, encouraging you to follow him back down the way you came.

The dorms at UA were gorgeous, towering buildings with each class’s numbers on them. Aizawa led you to one furthest from the rest of the dorms, the lettering above the building reading 1-A. It was the only building in the area aside from an identical building reading 1-B standing tall just opposite 1-A, separated by a wide cement walkway. The buildings looked newly constructed, with large windows that let in ample sunlight, making them look warm and inviting. The exterior was modern, with sleek lines and a blend of concrete and glass that gave it a sophisticated yet welcoming appearance.

As you approached the doors of the dorms, Aizawa stopped you. "Your room is the only complete one at the moment, fifth floor on the right in the middle. Also, here is a meal card. Just show it at the cafeteria when you get food, and you should have no trouble there."

"Thank you," you stammered in awe, taking the license-sized card colored in blue with the classic gold UA lettering on the front and a barcode on the back.

"The communal showers should be operating as well as the kitchen. If you find any issues, my room is on the first floor past the living room on the left," he added, opening the doors for both of you to enter. The lobby of the dorm was spacious and modern, with comfortable-looking furniture arranged around a large television. The walls were adorned with motivational posters and bulletin boards filled with various notices and announcements. There was a large communal area with plush couches, a few tables for studying or eating, and a game area complete with a pool table and several arcade machines.

"You should get your uniform sometime tonight or early tomorrow morning before classes start. As far as your hero costume goes, just submit your idea with any specifications to me before the week is up, and we’ll have the support department get it done for you."

"Sir, I don’t know what to say, this is all—I’m grateful," you breathed, desperately trying to keep your composure.

"All that we ask in return is that you do your best, plus ultra and all that," he rolled his eyes at himself, seemingly irritated that the school's moto had made its way past his lips. Rather than cringe, you were filled with a new sense of determination. You would not let these opportunities pass you by, and you would show everyone that all the effort and money they had put into you wasn’t in vain. You would earn every cent back by becoming the best.

"I will, sir," you bowed with a determined gleam in your eyes, causing your teacher’s lip to curl into an almost imperceptible smile—something you doubted happened often.

As Aizawa left, you took a moment to absorb your surroundings. The kitchen was state-of-the-art, with stainless steel appliances and a large island for communal cooking. You took the elevator up to the fifth floor, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. Your room was at the middle of the hall, just as Aizawa had described. When you opened the door, you were greeted by a simple but cozy space with a bed, a desk, and a small window overlooking the campus. The room was sparsely furnished but had a warmth to it, with soft lighting and neutral tones that made it feel welcoming. A small dresser was tucked into the corner, and a bookshelf stood next to the desk, waiting to be filled with your belongings.

Setting your backpack down, you took a deep breath. This was your new beginning. You had a place to stay, food to eat, and the opportunity to become a hero. For Tenko, and for yourself, you would give it everything you had.

Your uniform had arrived just like Aizawa said, with a note reminding you to submit your hero costume design by the end of the week. The uniform fit perfectly, a stark contrast to the ill-fitting clothes you'd been wearing. It felt strange to be in something so clean and well-tailored, almost like stepping into a new identity. You'd spent several nights working on your hero costume design, carefully considering every detail, particularly the need for ear protection. When you finally handed it to Aizawa, you made sure to emphasize this requirement.

Aizawa nodded, taking the paper from you. Then, he handed you some cash. "From Nezu. He said to go buy some new clothes with it, preferably ones that fit."

Your face flushed red at the comment as you glanced down at your too-short pants and too-tight top. "Thank you, sir," you responded meekly, taking the money without complaint. By this point, you understood that it was no use arguing with the principal about money or anything else he had provided for your comfort. With a grunt, Aizawa left you to your thoughts, walking back to his room in the complex.

Today was your first day of classes, your first opportunity to prove yourself. You hadn’t had time to go out and buy new clothes yet, between studying and preparing, so you were thankful for the mandatory uniforms. As you got ready, you marveled at the difference consistent showers, access to clean water, and regular meals had made. You felt rejuvenated, less tired, and it showed. The dirt streaks and stains were gone, your calloused hands were softer, and your body had filled out enough to hide your ribs. You were beyond grateful for the opportunities you had been given, the space to prepare for the next big step in your life. This was going to change the course of your life forever, and there was no going back.

You had a feeling that these small acts of care were influenced by Tenko beyond the grave. For some reason, being here, achieving both your dreams, made you feel close to him, more connected. It felt nice; you felt seen again, a feeling that only Tenko had ever been able to give you. On top of that, you had asked Aizawa if you could set up a memorial shrine for your long-lost friend, and he had given you no resistance. Now that you had the means, you could remember Tenko properly. Every night before bed, you would light a censer and share your day with your friend, hoping he could hear your call and share in some of your light the same way you shared in his.

As you walked through the dormitory halls, you noticed how the early morning sun filtered through the large windows, casting a warm glow on everything it touched. The hallways were still quiet, with only a few students up and about, but there was a palpable sense of excitement in the air. You made your way to the common area, where a few students were already gathering, most likely checking out newly finished dorms, their nervous chatter filling the space. Some of them glanced at you curiously, but you were too focused on your thoughts to pay them much attention.

Standing at the entrance of your classroom, 1-A, you took a deep breath and stepped inside. The room was spacious and filled with state-of-the-art equipment. The desks were arranged in a semi-circle, ensuring everyone had a good view of the front where a large digital board displayed today's date and the UA logo. You took a seat near the middle, trying to find a balance between being too close to the front and not wanting to be too far back.

As more students trickled in, you noticed a few familiar faces from the entrance exam. Kirishima, the boy who had saved you from being crushed by the robot, waved enthusiastically at you before taking a seat nearby. You smiled and waved back, feeling a bit more at ease knowing you had at least one friendly face in the class. The chatter around you grew louder, filled with excitement and anticipation for what the day would bring.

Finally, the door opened, and Aizawa walked in, his usual tired expression in place. He set his things down on the desk at the front of the room and scanned the class, his gaze stopping momentarily on you. You straightened up, meeting his eyes with determination.

"Welcome to your first day at UA High School," he began, his voice firm but quieting the room instantly. "I am Mr. Aizawa, your homeroom teacher. We have a lot to cover, so let's get started."

By the time lunch rolled around, you were pretty familiar with most of your classmates. Mina, the fluffy pink-haired girl who had talked your ear off before the entrance exam, was still a ball of energy. When she noticed you seated next to Kirishima, she squealed, skipping over to you to start a conversation, with the rest of her group following along. Mina's exuberance was infectious, and you couldn't help but smile as she animatedly introduced her friends.

Hagakure, the invisible girl, nearly matched Mina’s enthusiasm. Her cheerful voice was easy to recognize, and she greeted you warmly. Ochaco introduced herself as Uraraka with a sweet smile and a polite bow, her presence gentle and kind. Jiro gave you a bored once-over before turning back to her conversation with a girl named Yaoyorozu, who introduced herself with a composed and confident demeanor. Yaoyorozu's authoritative aura suggested she would make a good leader.

Finally, a small girl named Asui waved hello, her expression wise and calm. She insisted on being called Tsu, and you were happy to oblige. Her serene demeanor was a calming influence amidst the lively group.

During a break between subjects, you met Shoji, Sato, and Koda. They were all kindhearted and easy to talk to when they did speak. Shoji's multi-armed form was imposing yet gentle, Sato's muscular build was contrasted by his soft-spoken nature, and Koda's connection with animals was endearing.

Ojiro introduced himself after you almost tripped over his tail. He chuckled, catching you by your arm with a crooked smile and a soft apology. His calm and composed demeanor made you feel at ease.

Kirishima introduced you to Kaminari, whom you had started to hope for a friendship with. Kaminari was actually really funny, but it seemed he was more focused on cracking jokes and making friends than on learning. You liked Kaminari, but you preferred Kirishima's grounded nature. Kirishima was just as kind as the day you met him at the entrance exam.

You introduced yourself to Tokoyami, who was hiding in a dark corner of the classroom, looking grossed out by something the short purple-haired guy had said. Tokoyami's brooding presence was intriguing, and you found his straightforwardness refreshing. Soon after, you had the displeasure of running into Mineta, the short purple-haired guy. You quickly understood why Tokoyami had made a weird face; Mineta was a perv.

You recognized Iida as the kid who asked the only question at the entrance exam. Turns out he wasn’t stuck up; he was just very particular about rules and guidelines. At least he seemed dedicated to his education, and you thought he could make a good leader if he learned to be more accepting of others' faults. Sero was talking with Iida at the time, so you were introduced to him as well. Sero's laid-back attitude was a nice contrast to Iida's strictness.

Aoyama was just sitting at his desk "sparkling," so you didn’t really have the opportunity to talk to him, but at least he was better than Bakugo, who was straight up unapproachable. In fact, Bakugo tried to yell at you when he bumped shoulders with you on the way to his desk, which led to the only acceptable response: you getting right back in his face and calling him out.

"You’re the one who ran into me!" you scoffed, sending an apologetic look toward the group of girls you were mingling with. They all stood stock still in shock at your response. The entire classroom had gone silent, seemingly holding their breaths for Bakugo's reaction.

"Weren’t you the idiot that was the closest to my score?" he huffed, glaring at you.

"Yes," you said confidently, throwing daggers with your eyes in his direction. Bakugo seemed unfazed, just as you were of him.

"You better get ready, I’ll kill you on the mats later!" Bakugo yelled, a sinister smile curving his lips as small licks of orange crackled from his palms. You scoffed, rolling your eyes at the pathetic threat.

"We’ll see," you hummed before turning back to your conversation as if nothing had happened. Being ignored seemed to only piss Bakugo off more, but he held his tongue and sat down.

That led you to now, walking through the lunch line at the cafeteria, gathering your food card in hand as you paid for your mapo tofu and a side of rice. The aroma of the spicy tofu dish made your stomach growl in anticipation. You had run into a green-haired kid when initially getting into line. He was one of the students you hadn’t had a chance to meet before class started. His name was Midoriya, and he was incredibly sweet and friendly. The two of you chatted up a storm while in line, sharing your mutual excitement about being at UA and your dreams of becoming heroes. Midoriya's enthusiasm and genuine kindness made you feel even more welcome at UA, and you were grateful to have met someone who shared your passion for heroism.

As you made your way through the bustling cafeteria, the aroma of various dishes wafting through the air, you balanced your tray carefully. The cafeteria was abuzz with the lively chatter of students, the clatter of utensils, and the hum of excitement as everyone shared their morning experiences.

You navigated through the maze of tables, searching for an empty spot, when you suddenly collided with someone, causing your tray to wobble precariously. Your mapo tofu and rice threatened to spill over the edges as you quickly tried to steady it.

"I'm so sorry!" you exclaimed, looking up to see who you'd run into. Standing before you was a tall boy with strikingly mismatched features. His hair was split down the middle, one side white as snow and the other a deep crimson red. His eyes mirrored this dichotomy, one a cool, icy blue and the other a warm, fiery gray. There was something about his eyes that reminded you so clearly of Tenko, that same fire you thought, though it was also entirely different. This boys fire perplexed you, sure it held plenty of anger and hatred, but it seemed a lot softer than Tenko’s, more controlled.

"It's fine," he responded calmly, his voice steady and composed. His expression was stoic, almost indifferent, but his eyes held a depth that hinted at a complicated past. "I should have been more careful."

You felt a flush of embarrassment creep up your neck. "No, really, it's my fault. I wasn't paying attention."

The boy studied you for a moment, his gaze intense yet not unkind. "I'm Shoto Todoroki," he introduced himself, his voice devoid of any irritation.

You gave a small, nervous smile, introducing yourself as well. "Nice to meet you, Todoroki."

Todoroki nodded slightly, his eyes flicking to your tray. "You might want to find a seat before your lunch ends up on the floor."

You laughed softly, the tension easing a bit. "Good point. Do you have a seat already?"

He glanced around the cafeteria, then shook his head. "No, I don't. You can join me if you'd like."

Surprised by the offer, you nodded eagerly. "Sure, that would be great."

The two of you found an empty table near a window, the natural light casting a soft glow over your meals. As you settled down, you couldn't help but feel a bit nervous. Todoroki's presence was imposing yet strangely comforting.

"So, you're in Class 1-A too?" you asked, trying to make conversation as you began eating your mapo tofu.

"Yes," he replied simply, taking a bite of his own lunch. "I saw you during the entrance exam. Your quirk is… interesting."

You chuckled lightly, a bit embarrassed by the attention. "Thanks. It's called Dissonance. I can influence actions and thoughts with my singing."

Todoroki raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "That's a powerful ability. Have you been training with it for long?"

You nodded, grateful for the interest. "Yeah, I've had to learn to control it and not overuse it. It can be pretty dangerous if I'm not careful."

He seemed to ponder this for a moment, then nodded. "It's important to know your limits. My quirk has its own challenges too."

You glanced at him curiously, waiting for him to elaborate. When he didn't, you decided to ask. "What about your quirk? It's pretty unique too, right? Though I don’t remeber ever seeing you at the entrance exam."

Todoroki's expression remained neutral, but you could see a flicker of something—perhaps hesitation or discomfort. "I got in through recommendation, I only saw you that day because I happened to step into the analysis room when you were using your quirk. As far as my quirk goes, I have control over both fire and ice," he explained, his tone even. "But I only use my ice side."

You tilted your head, sensing there was more to the story, but you decided not to press. "That's impressive. It must be difficult to balance both elements."

"It can be," he admitted, his gaze distant for a moment before returning to you. "But it's something I have to learn to manage."

The conversation flowed more easily after that, and you found yourself genuinely enjoying Todoroki's company. Despite his initial aloofness, there was a quiet strength and determination about him that you respected. As you finished your lunch, you felt a sense of camaraderie with him, a shared understanding of the challenges you both faced in mastering your quirks and pursuing your dreams at UA.

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dangerousduckcloud · 3 months ago

Text

Flowerbeds make up for a nice eternal rest

Read it also on AO3

“You know, I’m going on a date soon.” “Yeah?” Your voice was coarse. “Yeah, she’s truly pretty, and I want to make it special, but I’m not sure what her ideal date would be, though.” You chuckled. The heat on your cheeks was simply due to the burnout of the whole exercising and not because Jason called you pretty. Not at all.

Chapter 12 < > Chapter 14

Masterlist

taglist: @kurai-hono-blog @katrina0-0 @readingfictionnothingelse @lookingforsyd @jackrabbitem @lvlythea @qmabailor

If anyone else would like to be added to the taglist, let me know!

so, the last update was like two weeks ago, sorry, life happens also, happy birthday to our favorite crime lord, i raced to post this on his bday ♥

There's mentions of grooming almost at the end of the chapter: nothing like that happens (nor will it happen in the future of this story), it's all due to a newspaper's libel.

You should run. You should leave.

Maybe if you wished hard enough, one of the bats (the animals) would take you by the shoulders and whisk you away to never be seen again.

It was different when Damian was here, knowing the topic of a date wouldn’t come out with him present (and maybe that’s why he left you two alone), but now that the kid had disappeared, there wasn’t a string of ones and zeroes in which you could hide yourself behind, either with the excuse of not seeing the notification or being busy (with what, though? he knows you don’t do squat all day.)

No, if he took the opportunity to bring up the mention of a date, you would be left on the spot, forced to reply, to stumble and make an idiot out of you.

Regardless, it seemed Jason wasn’t as frantic with the situation as you were, absorbed with fixing something on his bike. You could totally leave, bid your goodnight and go upstairs, where your racing mind could catch a break.

But of course, you didn’t. Wanting to bask in his presence as much as you could, not knowing when you would see him again.

Was he serious about the date?

In lieu of leaving, you picked up the taped-up toy to busy yourself, and not be dumbly idle fiddling with your hands. Your movements were slow, sluggish, your aching muscles not giving you full movement, but also because you were doing everything you could to prolong being left with nothing to do while you tried to think of what else to do.

There was a steel box filled with sharp, dangerous gadgets that were all broken in some way; some were salvageable, while others were destroyed beyond repair that you couldn’t even identify what they used to be, left here to be used for spare parts. This crate must be from where Damian took the tape, but you couldn’t see it anywhere when you turned your head left and right to search for it. Where did he put it? You better look for it before it gets lost, before it rolls over the floor and down into the—

“Did you ask Damian for the lessons?”

“Not really, no.” You turned round to answer him. He was fiddling with a loose strap of the red threads he usually worn around his hands in his Red Hood suit, not even pretending he was interested in talking to you. You gave up looking for the tape, making a beeline to the weight bench and sitting down, inspecting the bandage on your left hand that had the tiniest red dot. “He sent me a message to come down here. I don’t know if it was his idea or not, but—”

Your eyes looked for his face, only to find no one in the spot he’d been standing just one second ago. Out of the corned of your eye, you saw movement in the medbay, the bulky figure going through the cabinets in there.

Anger and disappointment were bubbling up inside you, battling each other for one of them to emerge victorious. Why would he ask a question if he didn’t care in hearing the answer?

“But?” he asked as he turned around, making his way back to you, gauze and cotton in his hands.

So, he was paying attention after all.

Jason sat down next to you, gently talking hold of your hand to remove the dirty and sweaty bandage, his calloused hands sent sparks all over your body, the twitch of your fingers at wanting to lace them between his mistaken as the reaction of the cotton touching the cuts. You weren’t in any pain, the cuts smaller than a paper cut, yet he mumbled a soft apology.

“But… It’s nice to have someone to care for me like that.”

Your gaze was focused on his hands, hands that’d been in countless fights, knocking unconscious men and women bigger than you without breaking a sweat, hands that were forever bathed in blood, hands that pulled the trigger on numerous criminals without a second thought, without remorse.

Only he knew how many had met their fate by these hands, and only he knew how many more would pile up to the list. He could break bones and spill blood as easy as it was breathing.

And yet, they were still capable of kindness, gentleness, of moving so delicately with every motion thought with the most care and attention it made you feel like the petals of a flower. These hands were capable of healing, of comfort, tending to the practically invisible cuts with a careful caress.

“I’m sure you have someone back home that cares for you.”

“No, at least… not anymore.” Now that you thought about it, it was taking Damian to find Tim longer than it should.

“How come?”

“I work all day, and —I love my job, don’t get me wrong. But sometimes it’s grueling dealing with all that people that…” Great, now you were rambling, the immediate conscious feeling of thinking, knowing, he might be regretting starting a conversation. “That in my free days I’m not in the mood for dating or friends.”

He nodded, cleaning the last cut on your hands and picking up the used bandages and cotton balls. Tilting his head up to meet your eyes, with the cutest, small smile on his face, and dimples on his cheeks, he asked “What about family?”

It was a matter of time for someone to ask about them, for someone to open the wound once again. “They’re gone. Car accident.”

The hands once again found their place over yours, engulfing them in the warm his body was radiating.

“I’m sorry. I—” You shook your head, both to ask him to stop and to prevent tears from falling. It’d been so long, yet every time you thought about it, the dread that consumed your body that day felt just the same. The silence stretched out uncomfortably, mostly for him than you, focused on ridding yourself of the painful memories and the tears welling in your eyes. “You know, I’m going on a date soon.”

“Yeah?” Your voice was coarse.

“Yeah, she’s truly pretty, and I want to make it special, but I’m not sure what her ideal date would be, though.”

You chuckled. The heat on your cheeks was simply due to the burnout of the whole exercising and not because Jason called you pretty. Not at all.

You’re sure that if your brain wasn’t so dehydrated to the point of resembling a raisin, it would be malfunctioning.

“I bet she’d like something romantic, like a picnic, or chocolates.”

“No flowers?”

“No flowers.”

“Alright.” He closed the lid of the aid kit, the echo disturbing the sleep of some of the bats. “I’ll do that, then. Wish me luck.” With a wink and a grin on his face, he got up just in time when echoing voices broke the silence.

When you were out of your stupor, you stood up. There wasn’t much for you to do here, as you wouldn’t be able to be of any help with the case. Besides, you were in dire need of a hot shower for sore muscles that were going to hurt like hell tomorrow.

“Timbo!” The voice rumbled through the cave, greeting him once he and Damian were at the end of the steps. “Got some intel for you.”

“Yeah, Damian mentioned something like that.”

The tense shoulders and the cognizant eyes were painfully obvious signs of how overstrung and uncomfortable Tim was, forced to pretend he’s unbothered being left with the two brothers that attempted to kill him, both more than on one occasion.

Question was, did Jason and Damian were oblivious to that, or they simply not care? Was it believable to think the two vigilantes didn’t notice?

Your shower could wait. Besides, you would be lying if you said you weren’t curious at seeing them work.

Tim wasted no time, eager to get this over quickly, and sat down in front of the computer, fast fingers gliding over the keyboard, Damian at his left and Jason behind him, scooting over when he saw you approach.

“I got a name. Gregory Crowther. Low tier goon, but he’s the one getting the girls out of the city.” His hand brushed against yours for a second. That’s simply things that happen, you thought to yourself, nothing done on purpose, no hidden meaning behind it.

You shook your head to clear your mind, focusing instead on the grand screen in front of you; a database Tim had accessed to with the information of one Gregory Crowther, the mugshot of a stout, balding man with eyes so dark and full of hatred piercing your soul through the screen, a disgusting yet impressive list of crimes next to the photo: shoplifting, indecent exposure, fraud, murder, arson, assault, battery, drug possession… and now kidnapping and trafficking. This guy was a golden worker for criminals, with years of experience dating since his teen years.

“Gregory was released from Blackgate three months ago, for arson.” Tim said. “He worked for Riddler a couple years ago, but this isn’t the type of things he does. Besides him, he never worked for any other rogue, this must be an outside ring.”

Jason began pacing, a murderous look on his face, completely different from moments ago. “Huh, well, this is… Interesting.” Tim kept talking, moving closer to the screen. “He works for a shipping company that’d had several complains of delays in deliveries since the start of the year, all of them from New York.”

“So, he picks the girls in Gotham and takes them to New York.” Jason stopped pacing, his hand holding the back of the chair with so much force you could see the leather creasing. “You said the start of the year? Can you access the records of everyone that has done deliveries to New York?”

Another list came out, with at least the names of fifty people on it.

“I’ll get their addresses and do a background check, see if some of them have some link in common. In the meantime, I sent Gregory’s address to your phone, Hood. He had a day off today.”

“I’ll have a chat with him.” Jason mumbled while looking at the address on his phone. He’d walked past you to get to his bike when he stopped abruptly. It seemed he was debating something, his hand going up as if to catch Tim’s attention, who was engrossed in the information displayed on the computer, only to fall flat at his side. Your eyes met for a second, his expression unreadable.

He shook his head and got on the bike, speeding out of the cave.

What was that?

Damian and Tim were none the wiser to whatever situation had happened just now, still focused on the screen, the very far corner of it reading fifteen past nine.

“Come, Damian.” You put your hand on his shoulder, guiding him towards the stairs. “It’s getting late and you have school tomorrow.”

Tim’s snicker earned him a glare from the kid.

“I am not a child.”

“I’ll believe that when you can reach the pedals on the Batmobile. Come, or I’ll go get Alfred.”

He grumbled, but heeded your order nonetheless, stomping with every step he climbed.

Definitely not the reaction of a child.

———

As expected, your sore muscles woke you up in the morning, every move of your legs and arms needed ten times strength than usual, but there was still a reason for which you wanted to wake up early and not lay in bed all day (you could do that later). Taking another quick, scalding shower, you went downstairs hopping you weren't late.

"Morning, Alfred" You grabbed a freshly baked muffin and sat down at the kitchen island, if Alfred was still here, that meant you were on time, maybe even early considering how empty the kitchen was.

“Good morning, Miss Jane, you seem quite excited today."

"My body is on fire, and I hide my pain behind my smile."

As expected from the man who raised a household of vigilantes, his only reaction was to curve a brow. "Well, at least you're honest, unlike my grandchildren. May I inquire what ails you?"

"Damian's teaching me self-defense, and now my muscles are paying the price"

"Ah." Alfred places a steaming cup of chamomile and lavender tea in front of you, the first sip already doing wonders for your tender body.

"Master Damian mentioned it to me last night. I must say, I appreciate having a... Let's say normal person spending time with him, teaching him how to be a normal kid, especially one that cares for him as you do."

Alfred's gaze did not concord with his words. It wasn't hateful nor suspicious, simply... wary. Of what, though?

"Yeah, he’s... difficult, but I care for him like the little brother I never had" The sound of dragged footsteps drew your gaze to the door, whoever was making the noise, they wanted to be heard. "Speaking of my favorite brat. Why are you still in your pajamas?" Unlike the posh and pristine uniform, you were expecting to see him in, Damian was still wearing his plaid sleepwear.

“I am unwell, Pennyworth. I believe it wise to rest and avoid getting my classmates sick.”

“Is that so?” Alfred didn’t believe him in the slightest. “Come here so I can feel your forehead.”

“I must refuse.” Damian coughed surprisingly real. “I am contagious and do not wish to sicken you in your advance, frail age.”

“I can do it then, I’m not old.” You turned to look at Alfred. “Sorry, Alfred.”

“Apology accepted, Miss Jane. I believe it is the best option anyway. After all, my frail body could confuse Master Damian’s temperature and believe him to be healthy, we wouldn’t want to send him to school sick, now, would we?”

Before Damian could run, you put both hands on his face, the back of your hand feeling nothing but his cool forehead.

“Why don’t next time you put a warm towel before coming down? You might fool us.” Damian grumbled something in Arabic that you had no idea what it meant, but you knew he wasn’t complimenting your outfit for today. “Go get changed or you’ll be late.”

Stomping, again, he left the kitchen, his usual frown on his face ten times stronger.

Soon, the clanging of pots and pans was replaced with chatter and clattering of utensils. After patrol, Steph had spent the night in the manor, recounting how patrol went between bites of her breakfast.

“It was a pretty calm night for Gotham. There were like, only three muggings, so Cass and I stopped by BatBurguer for fries. Condiment King was there.”

Your eyebrows gently shot up your face.

“He’s real?”

“Unfortunately.” Tim piped up. “The night’s he’s out are the worst, I never know if I’ll get back covered in mustard. Do you know just how hard it is to get rid of the smell?”

“Buddy’s not that bad.” Steph said. “… When he’s taking his meds. We chat with him for a while, and he was doing pretty alright, he’s working in a convenience store next to my school, I might drop by from time to time and say hello, make sure he’s not relapsing.”

“Didn’t he used to be a comedian?”

“Yeah, but there’s a limit to the number of condiment puns one can tell.”

“Bad jokes.” Cass agreed.

Alfred walked inside the small dining room, the one connected directly to the kitchen through a simple arched wall. There was a formal, bigger dining room, but since there were rarely enough people in the manor to use it, all meals were taken here, in a booth placed next against a window. He was drying his hands on a kitchen towel, taking off his apron next.

“Master Damian, we better leave now.” Without any fight left in him, Damian begrudgingly stood up from the table, you mimicked his movements, however cheerful rather than moody.

“Why are you following me, Jane?”

“Oh, I want to go with Alfred to drop you off.”

“Why?”

“I take enjoyment in your suffering and I wanna see it as much as I can. Consider it my revenge from making me exercise more than I’ve ever done in my life.”

———

It wasn’t until Alfred had started the car that you realized what you were about to do. Cold, tingling limbs scared of going back to the city, scared of being taken hostage or kidnapped again.

Every rumble of the car felt like a beacon of your location, every possible pothole or pebble that shook the vehicle felt as if the car would stop instantly and a man would open the door to pull you out.

The rational part of your brain was begging for you to realize how improvable that was, you were safe. Both of those times you’d been in open, vulnerable areas, vulnerable situations. Besides, you were sure Alfred must be carrying a weapon with him.

You tried to focus on your surroundings rather than your invasive thoughts, looking for something that would intrigue you; there were simple, boring buildings on either side, a stray dog relieving himself on a bush, an unopened bottled water in the cup holder, Damian next to you drawing— “Is that me?”

The sudden question caused Damian to jump in his place, quickly slamming shut his sketchbook.

“Must you be so nosy?” Damian put away the book inside his backpack. You were dying to see his drawing, yet you knew how annoying it was to have people forcefully taking hold of things you wanted to keep private, so you simply said “Looked like me. I was curious.”

In the distance, you were beginning to see the form of Gotham Academy’s main building. The red, brick wall fence and trees surrounding it ineffective in covering the structure. The groups of tweens and teens excitedly chatting between them on their way inside, most likely catching up on their extravagant activities done while on vacations.

Alfred stopped the car way further than where the entrance was, discovering the reason once he spoke. “Oh dear.”

In front of you were two other cars stopped, the drivers fighting each other on who was at fault. You were confused at exactly what’d happened until you noticed the tiniest of scratches in one of the cars, barely visible, nothing these people couldn’t pay to get it fixed.

“Miss Jane, would you be so kind as to accompany Master Damian to the entrance and make sure he goes inside while I turn the car around? I shall be waiting at the corner.”

“Sure.” Taking off your seatbelt, you left the car, rounding it to get on the sidewalk, hearing Damian slamming the door shut. He was quieter than usual, not complaining or judging people, his gaze focused on the sidewalk, kicking a small pebble until it rolled to the street.

You let him be, gauging into the daily lives of the one percent; despite being young and talking like any other kid, they still exude an air of grandeur, or properness and poise.

“Jane?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you hate me?”

That made you stop. Where had he gotten that idea? Where was this coming from?”

“What? No.”

“It is alright if you do, you would not be the first one.”

“I don’t, Damian. Why would you think that?” You placed a hand on his shoulder for comfort, resuming walking when parents began scowling at you for hindering their walk.

“Earlier, at the manor. You mentioned enjoying my suffering.”

You’re quite an idiot, aren’t you?

“Oh, fuck, Damian no, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Then how?”

You’d forgotten you were talking to a kid that’d gone from being an only child to having four siblings, all older than him. He wasn’t social and took all things completely literal, he most likely wasn’t used to this type of jokes.

“I was joking, Damian. It’s like when Tim asks me to do something, and I say no, but I do it anyway. It’s just to mess with him.” He was so deep in thought, a frown on his face.

“So, you do not hate me?”

“Not at all, Damian. In fact, you’re my favorite.” His frown was replaced by a smug smirk.

The bell rang, the few kids still outside running to their classes. You sided hugged Damian, wishing him good luck on his first day. His walk to the entrance as calm and unbothered as he could, not caring if he was late.

With the ring of the last bell, the street was soon empty and quiet, even the men fighting had resolved their issues and left. You were alone now, with no one to protect you from an attack, no one would know your location if you were taken.

A familiar car was the only one left in the street. That’s right, Alfred’s waiting for you. It’s not even a minute walk, nothing could happen; yet you still sped up your walking as much as you could without looking suspicious

“Everything alright, Miss Jane?”

“Yeah, just… Making sure Dami didn’t try to escape.”

“Very well then.”

Your breathing calmed down once the car was put on motion, you were soon going to be safe behind the manor’s walls. The streets were calmer now that parents had dropped off their kids and all workers were already in their offices, the drive calmer and smoothly than it’d been ten minutes ago.

While waiting for the traffic light to turn green, your phone vibrated next to you on your set. A text from Damian.

| Useless torture

A photo of his desk with an open history book attached to the text. With a smile, you typed in a reply.

| We can paint something when you get back

| Your artistic skills are not your forte.

| :(

| But I suppose even abstract ideas can convey something.

| :D

———

Both Steph and Damian were busy with school, Tim had locked himself in his room for a meeting, Cass was taking a nap, and while Dick had contacted Alfred to let him know he was alive and coming back to earth, he still wasn’t available for idle chatting, and all your bravado of the other day hadn’t dare to make an appearance today, so you didn’t have the confidence to send Jason a message (although you were curious, what did he do during the day?)

It was an unusually bright day in Gotham, the breeze light enough to not lift the pages of the book you were reading, the condensation on your glass of lemonade made it even more appetizing than it already was, cooling down your warm body. The birds were taking the lack of rain as their opportunity to sing to their hearts content.

You’d never felt this calm before, without the looming threat of real life, of work and expectations, without the need of society to be fast, fast, fast. No, time had slowed down for you, letting you breathe, fill your lungs with rose scented air from the nearby flowerpots. You were in a dream, in a bubble of peace and quiet, broken in seconds by the notification on your phone.

Normally, you wouldn’t have cared about any of this before. You still couldn’t care less about politics and sports, but now that you were a part of this city that once was fictitious and not just an outsider feeding of the scraps the fandom could get you, you’d set up notifications about local news and entertainment of Gotham (as well as Metropolis, reading everything written by Clark Kent and Lois Lane)

Of course, now that you lived in the house of a well-known public figure and his children, you also set up an special alert every time the name ‘Wayne’ popped up in any article, which, despite them not being extremely active in society lately, there were still quite a couple of newsclips every week.

So, when your phone lit up and began loading the article, it wasn’t a surprise, however, the title in big, bold letters was an unpleasant one, forcing you to take a big gulp of lemonade to help pass down the pretzels you were munching and almost chocked on.

‘Underage Bruce Wayne Lover?’

This morning, a photo of an unknown young woman seen with Damian Wayne, biological son of Bruce Wayne, began circulating all around social media, with citizens wondering if this mysterious woman is Damian Wayne's mother due to the warm embrace they were both sharing.

Since the appearance of Damian Wayne in Gotham three years ago, not much is known about his mother, with Bruce denying commenting about the topic. It's now time to wonder if his reluctance is tied to the problematic situation he got himself in.

It is important to note the youngest Wayne has not been seen caring, nor affectionate in public with any member of his family. Why, then, would he be affectionate with her if she were not his mother? They certainly share similar physical qualities.

The problem of the matter begins when one questions the age of the girl in the picture, as she does not look old enough to be the mother of a ten-year-old, in fact, she probably was his age when he was born.

This newspaper begs to the GCPD to investigate Bruce Wayne's private life and discover what he's doing behind closed doors with all the children he's adopted 'out of the goodness of his heart'.

At the time of writing this article, Wayne is out of the country in Wayne Enterprises matters, making him unreachable for questioning. Since last year, he had left most of the CEO responsibilities to his third youngest son, Timothy Drake-Wayne, so why is he the one meeting with possible clients? Could it be that these meetings are code word for whatever nefarious activities he's involved in?

You were disgusted, staring dumbly at the article, reading it once again to make sure your brain hadn’t made up the whole thing.

At the end of the article were two photos, one of when you were side hugging Damian before he walked inside the school (he wasn’t even hugging you back, how is that ‘affectionate’? There were probably thousands of photos with Dick doing the same), and the other of you getting into the car with Alfred, your face completely in focus.

Comments on the article were a mix of people throwing shit at Bruce, and others throwing shit at the article itself.

> I always knew Wayne was sick, why else would he adopt so many kids in the first place

> They should remove his custody of all of them and get them to safety

> You gotta be a fucking idiot to not consider the possibility that she's just another stray he adopted who got close to the kid

> Wasn't Wayne found in a stint of a group of child molesters a year ago and declared as 'working undercover'? I wonder how much he paid to the police to say that

> I find it highly unlikely Brucie would do something like that when he almost beat to dead a guy who tried to touch his oldest when he was a kid

Your hands were shaking, sure that all color had been drained from your face. When did they take the photo? How did they know to be there?

The reflection of something on your face drew your attention from your phone to the gate in the distance, a shadowy figure high up in a tree with a camera pointing at you.

Shit.

You didn’t even bother to take your stuff before going inside, you’d fucked up and had drawn unwanted attention on the family, not to mention helping Bruce get labeled as a groomer.

Opening door after door in hopes of finding someone, the sound of one closing in the distance reached your ears.

“Timmy!” It appeared he’d just finished his meeting, rubbing his shoulders after his two-hour conference. When you shouted his name, he immediately changed his posture; going from relaxed to cautious in a second, his hands went down to his torso, raised and ready to defend, his left leg going forward for a more stable position.

“What’s wrong?” When you shoved your phone on his face, it took him a few seconds to react, relaxing his posture and taking the device from your hands, eyes skimming over the page. “Ah.” Was all he said, calm as if you’d told him it was going to rain in Gotham “What about it?”

“What? Tim, this is serious, I’m ten years older than Damian, they’re implying Bruce slept with a twelve-year-old. Why are you so calm?”

“Because they’ve done it before.” Tim went back to his room. You’d never been inside before, only seeing glances of it when the door was left ajar and you were walking down the corridor. It was… Tidy was not the word you’d described it. Clothes were strewn all over the place. Half-filled, cold cups of coffee forgotten in every surface available. You were pretty sure Alfred would disown him if he saw this.

While you were observing his room, Tim had turned on his laptop, notes and diagrams of his call still open. Once he found what he was looking for, he turned the screen to you, the web results with several links all accusing Bruce of being an abuser, some even decades old, coincidentally, they all came from the same newspaper: the Gotham Weekly.

“They’ve been doing it since dad adopted Dick. At first the cops investigated it, —or well, Commissioner Gordon did— but they all quickly found out it wasn’t true, every two or three years they post something about this that people don’t believe them anymore, especially when they started to corner us at galas and events to give our statements. You should’ve seen their faces when their recorder accidentally hit Cass in the face, Bruce was fuming, threatened to sue them all for everything they had if they didn’t stop. I’m surprised they haven’t gone bankrupt already.”

“Oh.” Was your turn to say. “Why, though?”

“The owner, Bill Blacklow, has some sort of grudge against Bruce since their teen years, so I guess he’s trying to get back at him, I don’t really care much to look it up, after that incident they pretty much stopped, but I guess they got bold because Bruce’s not here. This isn’t really a problem, but we could give out our statement if it makes you feel better. But really, only like ten people will read this.”

His assurance and calm demeanor brought down your anxiety levels.

“You’re sure this won’t affect your family?”

“Can Superman fly?”

You sighed, letting yourself drop down on the bed.

“There was also a paparazzi outside.” Tim’s face lit up like a Christmas tree, crouching down next to the bed, the sound of boxes moving coming from under you. “What are you looking for?”

Instead of replying, his face popped up next to you, slowly raising his hands to reveal a… Oh.

Oh, this is going to be so much fun.

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pinkthrone445 · 1 year ago

Text

~I'd do it all over again if you're with me~ Prequel

Next part

Pairing:Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

Gender: little bit of hurt, fluff.

Warnlings : (+18) strong words, mention of alcohol.

Summary:you and Melissa had been in a relationship for a couple of years now, until at your sister's wedding you talk about marriage and you realize that the two of you had different perspectives on the future of the couple.

Request:I’m obsessed with this! Can you make a prequel where the reader talks about getting married and Mel refuses and then later Mel proposes the reader? 🥺 I loved when you talked about it! @babytakeittothehead

Hope you like it! ❤️

><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

You and Mel were at one of your sisters' weddings, you had traveled over the weekend so you could enjoy the party and the family. Everything had been beautiful, the atmosphere was spectacular, there was certainly love in the air. You and Melissa had been together all night, her hands always in contact with yours or your body. You loved moments like that where you could go out and enjoy being a couple in front of everyone, unlike when you visited her at school and you had to control themselves, so the kids wouldn't make disgusted faces.

When it was time to toss the bouquet, you and Melissa didn't make any effort to go participate, you just stayed at the table talking, that's why you were surprised when the bouquet practically fell into her hands, which made you laugh when you saw her face. While everyone applauded and congratulated you two, the redhead left the bouquet on the table making a disgusted face

-"No thanks"-she said, and another guest looked at her curiously

-"You're not a big fan of commitment, I assume"- he murmured and Melissa shook her head, taking a sip from her drink

-"Not even drunk in Vegas would I get married, that's a mistake I only made once and I won't do it again for anyone. The only thing a wedding achieves is that at the time of separation, everything it is more complicated. Because believe me, that eternal love bullshit is a lie. All couples have problems and are going to separate as soon as possible with the stupidest reason as an excuse"-The redhead replied too sincerely to be at a wedding, clearly she had taken a little too much to drink

-"Come on Mel, there are couples who last a lifetime together, look at you and me how well we are doing in 3 years together, I see us together for many more years. A wedding only confirms that love that couples feel for each other" - You responded trying to lighten the harsh comment your girlfriend had made, she just laughed

-"Believe me honey, everyone separates at one point or another and those who haven't, it's because they're cowards"-She replied as she continued drinking, you frowned and for the first time in the night you stopped having contact with her by letting go of her hand

-"I think it's more cowardly to give up... So you are planing to leave me?"-You asked, confused, and she laughed, thinking your question was a joke

-"No, not now, but we don't know what will happen in the future, life is hard and fights happen" -she replied without much care-"don't know what will happen in the future when we go through problems"

The rest of the party you avoided the redhead as much as you could, until it was time to go to the hotel. As you were taking off your dress and putting your pajamas, Melissa hugged you from behind pressing her front to your back and kissing your neck, knowing the effect that had on you, but you sighed and slipped out of her grip

-"I thought that if we were going through troubles we would talk like adults and fix things. Not that we would separate at the first sight of difficulties, I imagined myself with you all my life..."-You whispered in pain and got up from the table

-"Come on, I didn't think you were so deluded" - she joked and you sighed

- "I'll go see my sister to see how she's doing" - you said before walking away.

-"I'm tired Melissa, it was a very long wedding" - you replied and she tried to hug you but you wouldn't let her, laying you on the bed and letting your hair down

-"But it's the last day we have at the hotel before we go back home, I thought we'd enjoy it"-she whispered disappointed seeing how you covered your body with the blankets without even deigning to answer before closing your eyes. Defeated, the redhead changed and lay down next to you.

The next day you thought that you would feel better, but her words stuck in your head, she was thinking about a future without you in it. You sighed looking out the window of the plane, why would Melissa say that? Were you giving 100 percent of yourself in the relationship and that relationship already had an expiration date? Didn't she imagine a future with you? Didn't the supposed love she had for you make her want to spend her life with you? She could have said she didn't want to get married because she didn't believe in weddings anymore and you would have understood. But no, she said she didn't want to get married because it would make the separation more complicated, that only fools believed in weddings, you assumed that made you a fool... She said that problems could separate you, so little faith did she have in the relationship and so little effort would put into fixing things that she would be ready to part ways in the first fight?

Your heart felt heavy, maybe you were overthinking things, but it had really hurt you to hear that from her. If you had known that she didn't imagine a future with you like the one you imagined with her, maybe you wouldn't have been so involved in the relationship, the more you thought about it, the more heartbroken you imagined yourself.

For her part, Melissa didn't understand anything, neither your change of mood nor what made you sick. You never refused to have sex with her, in fact, you almost always initiated it and never said no, no matter how tired you were. Also, whenever you traveled together on a plane or bus, you rested your head on her shoulder and hugged her arm because that helped you calm down and sleep, but now you had turned the other way, with your back to her, looking out the window of the plane, and hugging your pillow. She tried to talk to you, but you were on the verge of tears and didn't want to cry on the plane, so you put on your headphones and closed your eyes trying to avoid her as much as possible.

When the plane landed and you got down, Melissa spent the whole way back home talking, but you barely responded to her, your head was completely elsewhere and Melissa still didn't know why. You had already been dating for 3 years and she knew you more than you knew yourself, but there were times when she could be so clueless with the things that were happening to you, if you didn't say it to her face, she didn't realize what made you feel bad, or even realize that it was she who had hurt you.

As soon as you got home, you started unpacking your bags and putting your clothes in the wash, especially the ones you would need the next day to go to work. Among the things you pulled out was a set of red underwear, Melissa's favorite color, but it was definitely new because she hadn't seen it before. The redhead's eyes lit up with excitement and possibilities, approaching you with a mischievous smile and hugging you from behind kissing your shoulder without taking her eyes off your suitcase and the underwear set

-"And that? I'm sure I haven't seen it before... Is it beautiful, when did you buy it?" - Your girlfriend asked you excitedly, hoping that the talk would lead you to wear it

-"I bought it on the trip, I was going to use it for you the night after the wedding, until I lost the desire to have sex"-you replied seriously and I let you off her grip to continue doing your things, the redhead looked at you with confusion

-"No problem with that, you could use it now... I'm dying to see you with that" - she said in a seductive tone, but you barely paid attention to her

-"I can't, I have a lot of things to do for tomorrow for my work and I want to sleep early to be well rested" - you replied putting the set of underwear in the wash and taking out some papers from work, leaving her more confused.

The next day, Melissa got up to make you breakfast, she knew she had done something wrong but she still didn't know what. When she got up, she was surprised to see that you had already left and she hadn't noticed, almost always you were the one who had the hardest time waking up. The redhead sighed, ate breakfast by herself, and then went to work.

At recess, she told her friend Barbara everything that had happened on the trip she had had with you, how much fun you were having until the bouquet fell into her hands. And how confused she had been after that because of the anger you were showing. Her friend laughed at how lost the redhead was

-"Don't you think maybe she's upset about how quickly you dismissed the idea of marriage? You're in a relationship of 3 years with her, maybe she hoped to get married someday. The fact that you are in a relationship means that these things are discussed between the two of you, not denied without first consultation at least. A relationship is about committing to things even if you don't like it, it's about demanding but also giving. I know you're not a fan of weddings because of your ex, but she's younger and maybe she imagined the perfect wedding with you. You should ask her if that's why... And maybe if you don't want a huge wedding, plan a party even if it's just to celebrate your love. That girl left her house to go live with you, she puts up with your strong character and your anger, and she is always attentive to help you with everything, I think it's your turn to do something for her..."-The eldest advised her and Melissa sighed, she knew she was right but that didn't make it any easier, just thinking about marriage turned the redhead's stomach because it reminded her of her failed marriage and how she was cheated.

After join up some courage, at the end of the classes she was ready to go home to talk to you. It hurt her to see that the food she had prepared for you was still in its place, even though you had clearly arrived home a long time ago. After leaving her things in place, she went to the living room where she found you eating a bag of chips while you watched TV without paying much attention to it

-"Honey..." -The redhead tried to get your attention but didn't succeed-(Y/N)?-she tried again

-"Mhhh?"-you asked still looking at the tv

-"I'm home..."-she whispered

-"I saw that, I saw you"-you replied dryly and she sighed

-"Look hon...I get that you're angry about what I said, but you can't treat me like this just because of that, I think you're overreacting" - Said the redhead, tired of your bad mood, you paused the movie and put the potatoes aside, finally paying attention to her

-"Do you even know what bothered me about what you said? Because for me this is an appropriate reaction, because what you said made me reconsider my whole future with you"-You got up from the couch upset and stood in front of her

-"If this is because I said I didn't want a stupid marriage, it's obvious that we're going to have our disagreements, but if you're going to get like this because of something so stupid, I can't imagine when we have more serious problems, we're not going to last much longer together"-Your girlfriend replied clearly annoyed, everything she had practiced of how to talk things down was no longer useful, her bad temper was winning over her desire to talk things calmly

-"You don't get it! It's not about the fucking wedding Melissa! Yes I would love to get married, but I can live without it. It's about you not thinking we have what it takes to be together as a couple despite the problems. We haven't had a big fight yet and you're already thinking about separation and giving up. If you don't want a future with me, if you plan to break up with me later for some stupid shit, you better do it now and end this once and for all. 'Cause I'm not your toy to please you until you decide you don't need me anymore"-You yelled at your girlfriend looking at her with teary eyes. The redhead took a step back, calming down and sighing as she finally understood what was happening

-"Hon... I'm sorry, I didn't mean that, I wasn't even thinking about what I said... I just remembered how stupid my ex-husband was and everything I had to go through to separate and get a divorce" - she whispered and came closer to you, but you took a step back crying

-"Well, but I'm not your ex-husband, I'm not going to cheat on you with someone else, I love you and adore you, I'd never think of hurting you like that. From day one that we are together I have put everything I am into this relationship and it hurts me to see that you are already thinking about ending things with me at the slightest confrontation"-you whispered no longer strong enough to fight, the anger left your body and was replaced with sadness, Melissa came up to you and hugged you tight kissing your forehead and this time you left her and leaned on her chest sobbing, just the thought of losing her broke your heart into a thousand pieces-"I don't want to lose you Melissa, I want us to do everything to fix the situation even though we have fights because I love you, I love you more than anyone else in this life..."-You whispered against her chest and she hugged you even tighter

-"I love you and I can't imagine a life without you, I'm so sorry for what I said, I was so scarred by my past that I didn't realize I was ruining my future with you... Every night before I go to sleep, I pray to the heavens that for the rest of my life you will be by my side when I wake up. It was kind of unconscious that I said, I can't imagine my life without you, I'm so sorry, I want you forever in my life."-Melissa kept whispering sweet things while still hugging you, things that erased your fears and insecurities, that brought peace back to your heart.

It was Valentine's Day and Melissa had been working longer hours, having two classes together meant twice as many students, twice as many exams and twice as many children who needed help. On that particular day, she tried to leave early to see you at home, but one of her students was having trouble at home and decided to vent to the redhead minutes before she left, forcing her to stay longer to help him. When the child finally stopped crying and the parents came to pick him up, it had been almost three hours since the last time she had sent you a quick message saying she would arrive a little later without time to give you more explanations. Melissa sighed grabbing her bag and walking through the parking lot, she knew that you had agreed to go out to dinner together in a luxurious restaurant and there was still time to get to the reservation if you canceled going to the movies as you had agreed, but she was very tired and with little desire to go out, the day had left her exhausted. Between the restless children and the problem she had to handle, she no longer had any desire to be with more people, only to stay with you at home. But she had already left you waiting and you already had the reservation paid, she knew you would be mad if you didn't do anything special on Valentine's Day. Melissa carefully opened the front door, but not before smiling despite her tiredness. As soon as she put down her coat and purse, she saw how you got up from the couch wearing a beautiful and elegant dress, silently approached her side, she expected you to yell at her or get angry at her tardiness, but instead, you caressed her cheek with a small smile on your lips

~Months Later~

-"Hi Mel, I missed you... Are you okay?"-You asked with real concern in your voice, the redhead carefully hugged your waist

-"Hello sweetie, I'm fine... I'm so sorry to be late, it's just that one of my students had a problem and needed my help..." - she answered looking at your eyes

-"Are they okay?"-you asked and she nodded-"and you are really okay?"

-"Yes, I'll take a quick shower and then we can go to the restaurant, so we don't lose our reservation" - The redhead spoke quickly trying to get out of your embrace but you wouldn't let her, she looked at you confused

-"Do you want to stay?"-You whispered, the redhead was shocked, it looks like you read her mind, she turned to look at you, pointing to your dress

-"No, you're already dressed and we've already paid for the reservation" - she insisted, not because she didn't want to stay, but because she didn't want to look bad saying yes so fast

-"But you're tired... I know you Mel, I know it's Valentine's Day but you don't feel like going out and I know"-she pointed to your dress again but you took it off and let it fall, leaving you only in panties and leaving the redhead speechless to answer you-" done, I don't have a dress anymore, do you want to stay now? You can barely keep walking, I know you wanna stay, I won't get mad if you are honest with me..."-You whispered and smiled

-"I wanna stay..."-she answered and you hugged her tightly, the redhead took advantage of your lack of clothes to let her hands travel over your body smiling

-"Let's take a shower"-you whispered over her lips before kissing her

After a relaxing and gentle shower together, the two of you got into bed and put on a movie on TV, neither of you bothered to put on clothes, all you did was bring some snacks. The redhead's head was on your chest as she hugged your waist and felt your soft breathing. Usually you were the one snuggling up in her, but you knew she was tired and needed it. Melissa was focused on her thoughts instead of the television. Anyone else would have been mad at her for being late on Valentine's Day, but you were worried about her and hers students, not mad at all. In previous years the two of you had made great gestures for each other on Valentine's Day, but nevertheless, Melissa appreciated this much more, that you had put your plans aside because she needed it, she appreciated that you realized what she needed. She valued staying at home with you, without hearing a single complaint about the ordinariness of the situation on such a special day. Melissa was grateful for you, you had a lot of patience with her. Your hand was playing with the redhead's hair and when she felt your laughter thanks to the movie under her cheek, she came back to reality looking at you with shining eyes, you felt watched and you looked at her confused

-"What?"-Your mouth was full of Doritos and she thought that was adorable

-"Marry me" - she whispered getting up and sitting down next to you looking into your eyes, you almost choked

-"What?"-you asked again after drinking some water

-"Marry me... I want to live the rest of my life with you, I want the world to know that we belong to each other, I want our friends to celebrate our love with us, I want it to be almost impossible for us to walk away from each other, I want you to marry me... Please, I'd be very foolish if at some point in my life I thought of leaving you again"-The redhead spoke truthfully and you looked at her confused, although you wanted to get married you knew that she wasn't a big fan of the idea, and if you had ever imagined that she would propose to you, it certainly wouldn't be while you were in bed naked watching a comedy movie. At your silence, the eldest became nervous- "I promise I'll buy some rings as soon as possible but if you want we can..."-The redhead couldn't keep talking when you sat on her legs and started kissing her with emotion and tears in your eyes, her hands immediately went to your waist as she enjoyed having you close-"Is that a yes?"-she spoke over your lips without separating an inch

-"YES! DEFINITELY"-You screamed and kissed her again, which made her laugh. Melissa was doing this out of pure love and you knew it, she wasn't doing it in front of a big crowd to show off, or because she had made a mistake and wanted to fix it, she was doing it completely out of love, for her and for you.

-"I'm going to be the only one lucky enough to enjoy your Doritos-flavored kisses for the rest of my life, future Mrs. Schemmenti"-she answered making you laugh and kiss her again-"I love you..."

-"I love you more, happy Valentine's..."-you answered

#melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #Melissa schemmenti abott elementary #abott elementary fanfic #abbott elementary #abott elementary #fanfics #fanfic

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cressidagrey · 5 months ago

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The Starlight Princess - Chapter 8 (The End)

Summary:

There is a Pool of Starlight in the Spring Court. A piece of the Night Court that has no business being in the land of Eternal Spring. So how did it come to be?

Or: How the Spymaster of the Night Court starts hearing a voice, realises that no, he is not insane after all, frees a princess, kills a High Lord…and finds his mate all at the same time.

Warnings:

Actually...Other than Seren and Rhys hashing it out, not really any?

(dividers by @tsunami-of-tears)

Azriel braided her hair.

4 strands. Not 3. An Illyrian round braid. Starting at the crown of her head and carefully working down her back until he tied it off with a strip of leather.

Tighter and more exact than Seren could have ever managed it.

She sat between his legs on the floor, one hand curled around his ankle, even now needing the grounding to feel like she was really there. That this wasn’t some kind of….that she hadn’t completely lost grip to the reality. That this was really happening and that this was….that she had this now.

One tendril of his shadows came over to wrap itself around her other hand and she bit back the tears that threatened to fall from her eyes as it playfully tugged at her fingers like it used to do every morning.

She wiggled them back at it, and it crawled up her arm, wrapping around her wrist like a bracelet.

*I missed them,* she whispered into Azriel’s mind, a soft chuckle coming from behind her in response as he leaned down to rest his chin on top of her head.

*They missed you too,* he responded softly.

She could feel him freeze behind her, something nearly imperceptively if she hadn’t been as close to him as she was.

But she was…and so she could feel it…Could nearly feel Azriel flinch with something.

*What is it?* she demanded.

*Rhys.*

Of course. She could feel the echo of her brother’s mental touch through Azriel, how Rhys should know better than to leave deep gouges in Azriel’s mental shields but still did it, because the fury he was feeling was…a thick, bitter taste in the back of Seren’s throat.

*Why is he battering your shields like this?* she snapped. What gave him the right to behave like this? Rhys knew better. She knew her brother well enough to know that he had every bit of ability not to hurt anybody while communicating like that.

*I imagine he’s not very pleased with me right now,* Azriel gave back. A sigh. Not even shocked. Not even surprised.

*That does not excuse that kind of behaviour. He knows better than that,* she seethed.

*He’s your brother,* Azriel said that like that explained everything. Like that somehow made it alright.

It made her fucking furious.

*And so it’s alright that he’s giving you a fucking headache?* She snapped right back, wrapping her own shields around Azriel, the pure surprise of that action, forcing her brother back.

*10 minutes!” she snapped into her brother’s mind before slamming down her own walls with a warning growl. He knew better than to try that with her.

*He’s worried about you,* Azriel said lightly as she gained her feet and she met his gaze.

*He should be,* Seren growled. “I am going to have fucking words with him,” she spat out.

“Since when do you curse?” Azriel asked her aloud, sounding more amused than anything.

“Since my brother decides to behave like a fucking asshole,” Seren shot back. Since then. And she was going to string him up by his fucking intestines if he kept behaving like this to her mate. Hers. Her Mate.

*He has his reasons,* Azriel admitted quietly and she raised an eyebrow questioningly. He pushed a memory at her clearly gauging her carefully.

If he expected another jealousy induced fit like she had for her cousin…well, he would be deeply disappointed. Instead, Seren felt righteous fury pour through her veins.

She was going to fucking maim her brother in life for that.

She could have understood it if her brother had been worried about the political ramifications and would have asked Azriel to be careful. Hell, she could have understood the request to wait, to take it slow.

She could have understood all of it.

But she could not understand how Rhys had…how her brother had behaved like some kind of despotic overlord, that apparently now decided who in his court was allowed to be with whom.

Azriel pushed more at her, about how happy Elain, that female that he had been enamoured with was nowadays with her mate, about how it clearly had all worked out for the best…

It gave her enough to delve deeper, and she found what she searched for.

Azriel didn’t try to stop her.

Two years of utter misery from Azriel, where he had spent his time building this house brick for brick with his own two hands because his heart had been aching.

Because her brother had talked to him like that. Had told him that he should go to a pleasure hall because clearly all that he was good for. Well, that hadn’t been said. That had just been implied.

*Do not start a fight with him over this,* Azriel pleaded with her in her mind and she was done.

*Oh, don’t you worry,* Seren gave back, her voice bone dry. *A fight would mean that I allow him to actually explain himself. There is no fucking explanation for that behaviour that I am willing to accept.*

Still, she did her best to shake off that fury, because if she wasn’t, she was going to bleed it all over the city.

Azriel seemed to sense that he wouldn’t be able to talk her out of it.

“Are we going to fly?” Seren asked her mate, who raised a single eyebrow in response.

“Think you can manage that without plummeting to your death?” he teased her and she just rolled her eyes in response.

Her wings unfurled from her back like they did for her brother, snapping out to their full length, without a second thought from her.

The one reason she even still had them…had been thanks to a quirk of herself…she had never been able to keep them out while she was asleep or unconscious. They disappeared then.

Still, as she finally got to feel them again, could move them…could feel them tremble in the wind as she followed Azriel outside of this house, nestled in the mountains surrounding Velaris…she could feel the wind in them.

It called to her.

And she could also feel the hot, steady warming of arousal from Azriel, which was making her bite back a pleased smile.

She fluttered her wings at him in response. *Don’t start thinking about that or I am going to maul you again,* she warned him with a laugh.

*I like it when you maul me,* he shot back.

*Oh, do you?* she teased him, just as she shot into the sky.

She did not plummet to her death, though it did take a few minutes until she felt…back to normal again…until her wings properly felt like an extension of herself again until they were hers again…Until Azriel trusted her enough not to fly beneath her so he could catch her if they gave up on her…until she soared through the skies once more…

But once that happened…soaring through Velaris that morning was…freedom.

Seren was free.

No longer a slave to the Spring Court, no longer imprisoned as a pond…she was free. She had her body back, she had her wings back, and she had Azriel back.

They didn’t fly to the House of Wind, but instead to an estate at the banks of the Sidra, a beautiful Manor House. (Maybe it shouldn't have surprised her. For both her brother and her the House of Wind would probably always be too connected to their father…Too…)

Rhys was waiting for them. And for the first time in three hundred years, she got to lay eyes on her brother herself. Not through the memories of Azriel… but he was there… paces away from her as she hit the floor and threw herself at them, letting him catch her as he had done all through her childhood.

He was warm and massive and smelled like citrus and salt and home. Home.

His mind brushed against hers and she opened nearly immediately, every one of her instincts giving in as she clung to her older brother and he clung to her, his shoulders shaking.

*Seren.*

*Rhysand.*

*It’s you,* he whispered, cradling her head in his hands and she took hold of one of his hands, holding it in hers as her eyes met his…the same shade of violet both had inherited from their father.

*It is me,* she agreed with him, a breathless laugh escaping her as he hugged her again, lifting her clean of her feet to twirl her around like he had been prone to be doing when she had been still a toddler…

*I missed you,* he breathed into her mind, and she got a snapshot of things from him…shards of memories that she couldn’t place, not really, but she could feel it….all of its moments that he had wished, she had been there for. Two people featured extensively….a beautiful brown-haired female and a black-haired toddler with bright blue eyes and fluttering wings.

*I missed you too.*

She didn’t want to think about how uch…or how it had felt…or how…

*You’re alright?* he checked as he stepped back, still cradling her head and he mustard her, taking in every inch of her.

His nostrils flared and she knew that he must have caught Azriel’s scent all over her, even when she had showered…showered enough so that she wasn’t absolutely drenched in the smell of sex. She didn’t think that that was going to go over well…though there hadn’t been much she could do against the dark purple blooming bruises and bitemark on the side of her neck.

Her brother growled.

Azriel answered it, just as sharply, and she could feel the steady line of warmth of him to her left, ready to step in.

*I am good. It’s fine, Rhys,* she told her brother tightly. *It was nothing that I didn’t want.*

Clearly, that was the wrong thing to say.

Both of them growled.

If they were going to come to blows and she would be stuck in the middle, it wasn’t going to end well, she knew that. “I am not some kind of bone for you two to fight over,” Seren snapped.

She could make her own decisions, thank you very much.

“Sorry, Princess,” Azriel apologised, his voice quiet, while her brother stared at her wide-eyed.

*Are you sure you want to keep him? I am sure we could still talk Thesan into marrying you.*

She drew back and sharply flicked her brother’s ear, glaring at him.

This wasn’t funny.

“Ouch!” his wide-eyed stare at her was funny though.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that, you deserve worse!” Seren snapped. *How dare you?” she snapped into his mind, pushing her memories, Azriel’s memories at him, bombarding him with them.

It was second nature for both of them.

This was how they talked.

There had been occasions, more than once, or twice or even a dozen times, where the two of them had had an argument in under a minute just like this.

*What would you do if I talked to your mate like that?* she seethed at him.

He clearly hadn’t expected her to push her anger and her fury at him like that.

*I…I am sorry.* Rhys wasn’t stuttering but it was a near thing, definitely taken aback by how angry she was on Azriel’s behalf.

*I am not the one you need to apologise to, Rhysand,* Seren said tightly.

*You are aware that Azriel can fight his own battles, you know?” Rhys told her, a thread of amusement running through his voice, but Seren didn’t find this very funny.

Especially because she knew that Azriel would have never fought that battle for himself. For another person? Of course. But never for himself.

“As long as he has me, he doesn’t need to. You worry about this Court. I’ll worry about my mate,* she pointed out evenly. *And don’t you dare threaten him. He’s mine.*

Very clear. Very concise.

Her brother inclined his head.

“Where’s the rest?” she asked aloud, Azriel next to her seemingly relaxing, as she reached out blindly for his hand.

He took it, warm and scarred and safe.

“What, you wanna tell me that Cassian hasn’t been watching the whole thing from the window?”

“It was the roof, actually!” called a loud voice and she just shook her head, biting back a smile.

“Inside,” her brother answered finally, his voice quiet.

“Wanted to check if I am quite right in the head?” she wondered as he turned to make his way there and he sighed, long sufferingly.

“I don’t know why I bothered, you never were anyway,” he gave back, teasing her, being as annoying as he always had been…one of her tendrils of white starlight magic reached out to poke him and he batted it away without even turning towards her, though she could see the smile playing around his lips.

“You got me a sister. Where is she?” she demanded. “Where’s my nephew? I owe him a few years worth of presents.”

That did make him smile broadly, though it was Mor that was the first to hug her as they entered the house, her cousin enveloping her in a fierce hug.

“Don’t try to rip out my throat,” she warned Seren drily, who just laughed in response.

“Sorry about that,” she apologised. *Though you had that coming.* she added mentally, making Mor laugh.

“Oh, don’t be. It was good for my amusement,” Mor told her with a grin. “Rhys looked like he would had a heart attack when I told him.”

She could just imagine that.

Mor let go of her only for Cassian to lift her clean off her feet, much to her amusement.

“So where have you been?” he asked her as he let her down. “We thought you were dead and then Tamlin gets killed, Spring’s wards shatter and you and Azriel finally get together?”

“I spent 3 centuries as a pond,” she gave back drily.

“A pond,” her brother repeated hoarsely.

“Or a Pool of Starlight, or a lake or whatever else you want to call it,” she answered, her voice turned dark.

There was a shocked gasp and she looked up to see the same brown-haired woman that she had seen in the memories of her brother and of Azriel featured…Feyre.

Feyre, who had her nephew on her hip…Nyx.

But Seren remembered her before her ears had turned pointed…before she had become cauldron-blessed…when she had just been…human.

“I…I am so sorry,” she said hoarsely.

“You don’t need to apologise,” Seren told her evenly. “You were human. You had no clue what I was. You…you were enthralled with him,” she said with a shrug.

Enthralled had been a good word for it then. Though now she wondered what the whole story was…that had resulted in her falling in love with her brother and becoming his wife, his High Lady.

“That still…did you feel…” Feyre asked her, a shudder working its way through her body and Seren just inclined her head.

“My consciousness was very much there,” she admitted.

She had…she had been there. Not like she had been in her body…but she had been there in a sense. She couldn’t even explain it properly…and quite honestly, she didn’t want to think about it. She didn’t want to…

Very carefully, she pushed the memory of what had happened to her brother…not the screams of their mother than she could remember but of Tamlin’s father and his brothers and him…of the pain…

He blinked…then she could feel his anger, could feel his magic rumble with fury.

“I am surprised you aren’t completely insane,” Cassian told her brightly.

“Not any more than she used to be,” Azriel quipped, the first thing he had said since they had entered the house and she turned her head to glare at him.

“You may be my mate, but I can still maim you,” she told him drily, making him grin.

“I would like to see you try, Princess,” he teased her and she just raised one eyebrow at him.

*I drew first blood,* she pointed out reasonably, making him laugh.

*Go on. I know you want to meet your nephew,* Azriel said instead, prodding her in Feyre’s direction and she happily acquiesced.

Of course, she did.

She had the opportunity…she had the opportunity to finally be…to finally be a fae again…to no longer be imprisoned and her magic used for somebody else’s gain…but she was free…

Free to go wherever she wanted.

Free to love Azriel.

Seren was free.

#acotar fanfiction #my writing #the starlight princess #the starlight princess story #azriel x rhys!sister

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pascaloverx · 7 months ago

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To Begin Again

ONE

Summary: You're a new teacher at a large and influential school. It's a risky step for you, as you've been running from your ex for almost two years. But when Dumbledore asks you to take on a class at the renowned Hogwarts, you can't refuse. However, your life as a newly arrived teacher won't be easy. Especially when the other teachers don't seem eager to make friends. Or rather, two teachers in particular: Sirius Black and Remus Lupin.

Author's Note: Welcome, dear readers. Please leave your comments if you enjoy fanfiction. This fanfic takes place almost in the real world (with the addition of werewolves) and is not a wizarding fanfic. There will be some differences and changes in things from the Harry Potter story or other fanfics in the HP universe, but I promise to do my best writing this fanfic. There will be a love triangle coming in this fanfic.

AO3 LINK TWO

To flee is easier than to face your problems, than to confront the demons you left behind long ago. And your life has become an eternal escape. Not only moving from place to place, teaching from school to school, you were living a temporary life each time. Until one day, a letter arrived, yes, a letter for you from London. It said that you were invited to teach temporarily at Hogwarts Academy. Dumbledore needed you. He was a great friend of your father. They even taught at the same time, but when you were born, your father and mother decided to move to the United States for some undisclosed reason. But Dumbledore's letter comes to you as a good excuse to cover your tracks. Restart.

"What a piece of crap. My cell phone is out of battery and I'm lost in the middle of nowhere." You mumble to yourself. No one is listening anyway. A beautiful full moon night is in front of you, lighting your way. Hogwarts, despite being influential, seems to be located in the middle of nowhere. You jump back when you hear a loud howl. Are there wolves near a school? Isn't that dangerous?

You look at your phone wishing there was some battery left so you could call someone. Noticing that it might be dangerous, you walk towards what you think might be the path. One step hurriedly each time. But the howls get closer and closer. Until you see a sign saying that Hogwarts is nearby. But as soon as you look ahead you see a dog. I mean, something similar to a dog but bigger. Or will it be a very hairy man?

"Leave or I'll throw my suitcase at you. Whatever you are." You say threatening the furry creature with your suitcase. The creature seems to stare at you, but not understand you. At that moment you laugh at your foolishness. Now who in their right mind would try to reason with a creature that doesn't seem to reason?

"Listen, I don't want to hurt you. I'm against animal abuse and I've participated in campaigns to rescue many from the streets. But if you come any closer, I won't have any other choice." You speak and while the canine creature or something looks like it's ready to attack you. When the creature gets a little closer, you throw your suitcase at it. With all the strength and aim possible. And then you run. Run as fast as possible, hitting some trees along the way but maintaining your speed. You hear the creature's grunts of pain. Then everything is silent, you rest a little. Your legs hurt, your arms are sore and bruised. And then you hear a long howl that alerts you that the creature is coming. And then you run again, as fast as you can.

"I can't believe I'm going to die here, like this." You mumble as you run. You're so distracted that you don't notice a stranger in front of you. Until you bump into him. Making you both fall.

"Fuck. Don't you watch where you're going?" The stranger speaks in a rude tone and you look at him in confusion.Isn't he noticing that you're running from death? Or is he not hearing the furry creature's noises?

"Shut up and follow me." You say, holding the stranger's hand and asking him to follow you. Why you helped him, you don't know. But you wouldn't be able to sleep with guilty conscience if he died. Strangely, he follows you a little further into the forest. But who designed a school that has a forest with ferocious animals on the loose?

"Come here." The stranger pulls you close to a hiding place. Hideout that actually seems designed for this type of situation. It's a small hut covered in bushes. You think about saying something but the stranger covers your mouth and points outside. Your eyes follow the stranger's fingers and you observe the creature outside. From a distance this creature looks like something from another world, from a fantasy world. A werewolf better said. The creature sniffs for a while and then disappears into the forest.

"You saw that?" You ask the stranger who is currently adjusting his somewhat long, silky, and slightly wavy hair. Sweat is dripping down his forehead, but he seems fine. I mean, he's attractive. I mean, what the hell are you thinking?

"I did see it, still got the ability to see after some lunatic knocked me down out of nowhere. And you're welcome, by the way." The man says as he rummages through a closet. You look at him indignantly. What do you mean you should be grateful to him?

"Sorry to wake you up from that illusion you're in, but it's you who should be thanking me. That creature was about to attack both of us, and I pulled you to come with me. So, Prince Charming, get off your imaginary horse and thank me yourself." You respond proudly, starting to feel the pain of the bruises you accumulated along the way.

"If that's how you feel, would you prefer to go out into the forest right now and try your luck?" The man says mockingly, and you glare at him angrily. What an idiot.

"Look, I'm new around here, and I don't want to sound presumptuous, but you seem like a jerk. But unlike you, I'm going to appreciate your help. Thank you for helping me escape from the big hairy creature out there. Satisfied?" You say, swallowing your pride, and then you extend your hand to the stranger. He gives a smirk, almost charming. What a jerk.

"Very satisfied. But now that we're here, would you mind telling me your name? I find it strange to spend the night with someone whose name I don't even know." The man says, sitting on the wooden chair next to you. You, who are sitting in an armchair, look at him, feeling strange about the idea of spending the night together.

"My name is Y/N. And yours?" You speak to avoid seeming rude, but the truth is, you want to know the reason why you'll have to spend the night together.

"Sirius. Sirius Black." He pauses before continuing, "And before you wonder, we have to spend the night here because it's still out there. But don't worry, as soon as dawn breaks, I'll take you to Hogwarts." Sirius speaks, squeezing your hand firmly. You shake hands, and he looks at you as if trying to unravel all your secrets.

"How do you know I want to go to Hogwarts?" You ask, and he smiles as if he finds it amusing.

"Let's just say I have a good sixth sense. Now, I suggest you rest. Tomorrow will be quite a day for you." Sirius says, handing you a pillow and a blanket. You thank him softly as you watch him grab another pillow and lie down on the floor. It looks uncomfortable, but you're too tired to be polite and offer to sleep on the floor instead.

"Hey, Sirius. Thank you so much for today. I might not be alive without you." You say sweetly and sleepily as you settle into the armchair. Sirius lifts his head and looks in your direction. Wow, he's handsome.

"I echo your words. The only difference is that I'd be alive with or without you. But I'm grateful for the company. It tends to be pretty boring around here." Sirius replies before turning over to sleep. You try not to dwell too much on what he said and then let sleep finally take hold of you. When morning comes, Sirius seems a bit more grumpy than before. You deduce that he might not be a morning person. You both leave the cabin early and walk for a while towards Hogwarts. The journey feels almost endless, but when you finally arrive, you're dazzled. The beauty of the architecture almost makes it worth almost dying to get in here.

"Well, princess, you're delivered. I won't be able to come in with you because I need to go check on something, but I'm sure we'll see each other again soon. Until then, take care. I won't always be here to save you." Sirius says, kissing the palm of your hand before leaving without giving you a chance to respond. You find him presumptuous but decide to move on.

Walking through the corridors of Hogwarts, you observe children playing from side to side. A boy with glasses and dark hair is hitting another boy with white hair on the ground, which startles you. You immediately run towards them. As you approach, you manage to separate the two, pulling the dark-haired one off the light-haired one. They both seem a bit bruised, and as you separate them, you realize that the effort has caused you significant pain in your back.

"You shouldn't be fighting. At least I think so." You say with some difficulty as you feel the pain growing. It's strange that despite the dark-haired one being the aggressor, he seems to take you more seriously. Meanwhile, the light-haired one is smiling mockingly with his arms crossed.

"And who are you to say anything?" Asks the child, around eleven or twelve years old, with a bruised face but intact hair. He's the one with the light hair.

"You must be thick, Malfoy, if you didn't notice that she must be our new teacher. Or maybe I hit you too hard." The dark-haired boy responds, already angry again. He seems both fearless and temperamental.

"Stop. Both of you! I don't want to hear insults or nonsense in my presence. You, with the white hair, I am your new teacher, so I suggest you change your tone when speaking. And you, with the dark hair, violence is not a solution to anything, not even insolence. Both of you, go far away from each other and think about how to be better." You speak calmly but very seriously. Despite their reluctance, both boys stop fighting and move on.

You feel the pain in your back get worse and walk to the first place you see an adult. Until you find a room, which seems almost abandoned. There is no one inside. You observe the room that has some old books scattered around and appears to be someone's room.

"Can I help you?" A male voice speaks from behind you. You turn around nervously thinking it's rude to enter someone else's room.

"I need help..." You were going to say more, but you were startled when you noticed a mark on the face of the man in front of you. You figured he must be in pain.

"There's no need to be afraid. I got involved in a mess last night and was a little injured." The man says getting closer and you feel like you're being rude.

"I'm sorry, I imagine it hurts. I'm sorry for my rudeness." You say, getting a little closer and looking deep into the man's eyes. Eyes you felt you've seen before.

"No need to apologize. It really hurts. My name is Remus and this is my room." Remus speaks as you watch him and before you can say anything, you simply pass out.

To be continued...

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lightlycareless · 10 months ago

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I’d love to know how Naoya would handle sleepless nights with a crying baby. I can imagine he’d naturally get frustrated if it’s been ongoing for a while and the frustration would most likely manifest in how he handles his feelings of helplessness in his ability to soothe his baby. Idk, Naoya trying really hard to take care of his baby but struggling is just so cute to me.

Hello anon! agjhajkhajkgaggaha aaaa thank you so much for sending in this ask!!! It was the perfect excuse to develop something I think Naoya would feel/develop when having a family with you :>

I won't say much, just let you read the whole thing hehe.

anyways, here are the warnings: none. a bit of fluff. naoya is a frustrated, insecure father. but he's a good man now so. (also we're back with baby Naomi ❤️❤️)

happy reading!

Naoya is frustrated.

And not just with the baby crying or being woken up by it—but with everything.

He knew that having a child was not going to be an easy feat, no one told him it would be, even expecting this to become the most difficult endeavor of his life, even bigger than what his career as a sorcerer entailed.

Yet, no amount of research, advice, even classes could’ve prepared him for the real deal.

Naoya considered himself very lucky to have a wife and mother as loving and attentive as you to support him in this new stage of his life, but even when you were willing to stay home and take care of Naomi while he went out to work, he still wanted to be there, spend time with you, the baby, feed her, change her, take her out for walks, spoil her—be the father he never had.

But life wasn’t to be that giving to him, and he’d soon face the consequences of his extended absence, the main reason of his current frustration: starting from Naomi’s occasional unfamiliarity towards him, to his inexperience dealing with her sleepless night.

He could’ve let you handle it, let you get up from the futon as he continued sleeping, but he’d seen it in your eyes—the exhaustion, the continuous commitment you had to your daughter and what little it allowed you to rest or do anything for yourself, really.

Naoya was eternally grateful for all you’ve done for this newfound family, and for him, so, wanting to show his appreciation, he’s decided to get off futon the moment Naomi started crying, stop you on your tracks, in favor of him tending to her.

Only to find himself regretful, useless, and upset, that he didn’t know how to ease her cries.

“Naomi, pumpkin…” Naoya would coo, gently taking her into his arms and resting her small head against his shoulders. He never gets used to this sensation, how small and delicate she was against him. “Don’t cry, papa is here.”

The baby continues to cry, still irked by something he has yet to figure out—clearly unsettled by the man who proclaimed to be her father.

He didn’t want to admit it, didn’t want to say it out loud and make his shame even bigger, but he couldn’t cower in fear anymore.

To see Naomi openly deny him, highlighting his lacking presence as a father, alongside his ignorance in these affairs, was the greatest pain he’d ever experienced.

It wasn’t fair that his responsibilities often pulled him away from the two; even when he did his best to earn a small “leave” to be able to support you after childbirth, it was very limited, almost inexistent, and from what he overheard from your staff, very, very difficult for you too.

Naoya felt ashamed to be called your husband, preach how much he loves you, and now Naomi, yet rarely be there alongside you.

But even then, you never reproached him. Not as harshly as he thought deserving. Instead, you’d reassure him that though you missed him, understood how invasive his job could be—having been raised in a similar setting— and how you knew what you were getting into when marrying him.

And most importantly: that Naomi loved him as her father and would grow to appreciate his sacrifices in due time.

Yet… his doubts remain; unsure if your words could be taken as truth, or if he’ll be able to swallow his anguish until then, because seeing her like, putting up a fight when he was trying to put her back to sleep…

Makes him feel like a failure of a father, the last thing he wanted to be in his family.

“Naomi, please—don’t cry, mama is trying to sleep.” Naoya would insist, as if she’d understood his words, or perhaps hoped she would. Naomi, of course, didn’t. “What do you want? Do you want to eat?”

She cries.

“Maybe a change of diapers?”

He checks—no. Nothing. Naomi simply continues wailing.

“I don’t know what you want.” Naoya laments, dissatisfaction in his voice. “In fact, I don’t know anything about you—or what you like. I don’t know your favorite color, your favorite plushie, if you prefer to go on walks or stay home with your mom…

But I know you’d prefer her to me right now, don’t you? Because you don’t know me either. I may be your father, but given how much I’m away, I could be a total stranger and it would make no difference to you.”

“Yet, you’re not—you are her father.” You suddenly appear, Naoya’s eyes swiftly dart over to you, confused, and perhaps bit annoyed.

“Why are you here? I told you I’d take—”

“Because I just remembered this is your first time putting Naomi to sleep when she can’t” you respond, walking over to him. “And I thought I’d be nice enough to tell you what I do.”

“…I’m supposed to know what to do.”

“Maybe, but there’s nothing wrong in asking for help.”

“That’s all I’ve asking from you, Y/N. Help.” He frowns. “I ought to know how to do something about this.”

“While the help is always appreciated, I never expected you to know everything… Not even I know it, and this is all I’ve been focused on!” you say, trying to cheer him up, but his remorseful eyes let you know he isn’t, not even close. “You’re great father, Naoya. Doing your best—that’s all that matters.”

“What good of a father can I be if my own daughter is like this because of me?”

“I’ve heard her cry when she doesn’t like something—this is not one of those times.” You respond.

“Then what is it?” he asks. “Why is Naomi crying?”

“There’s really a lot of reasons, but according to what Junko-san has told me, and the doctor, she could be hungry, have a leaky diaper, or… a nightmare.”

“A nightmare?” Naoya repeats. “She can have nightmares?”

“I don’t know, I suppose so, if it isn’t anything else.” You shrug, and a sudden wave of protectiveness washes over Naoya.

“How do I comfort her?”

You smile.

“I sometimes like to hum her a lullaby or tell her a story.” You begin. “Sway a bit too, Naomi really likes when you do that. She often falls asleep after that.”

“How do you do it?” Naoya asks quickly.

“Here, let me show you.”

Naoya is nothing but attentive to your explanations, the way you’d hold Naomi against your chest, how you’d softly hum her a nursery rhyme while gently patting her back—things that while didn’t seem to work, given the way she kept crying, didn’t sway you from continuing; in turn making him grow a bit nervous, doubt his own capabilities…

But he’d push through them either way, and once he thought himself well prepared (although very nervous) Naoya takes Naomi onto her arms, accommodating her against his chest, hand on her back, as he begins to hum a song he suddenly remembered from his childhood—one he thought long forgotten, but worked to soothe him eitherway.

Your husband didn’t think it would work, didn’t have faith that he’d be able to do as good as a job as you’d done until now, but he still tried, he kept moving forward even when Naomi’s cries echoed in the room and his insecurities prickled at the back of his mind…

Because at the end of the day, this isn’t about what he needs.

It’s about what Naomi deserves.

A present father, a trying father. Not one that would discard him onto the nannies or the mother, and only appear when it was suitable for him, perhaps even less…

He’s experienced that pain, that solitude, which clung to him well into his adulthood and barely managed to free himself of it thanks to your care—and it’s something he never wishes his daughter to live through.

No matter the obstacles, Naoya has long decided, from the moment you announced your pregnancy—no, when he realized he loved you, that he will do everything in his power to be there for the two. Even if his duties keep pushing him away for long periods of times, even if Naomi sometimes doesn’t like being with him… this is the least he could do.

“Look, Naoya!” you whisper excitedly. “She’s falling asleep already!”

He blinks, carefully looking down to her chubby face, quickly realizing she was indeed starting to feel drowsy, cries slowly quieting down as he lets out a squeaky yawn, a sound that makes both your and his heart clench with adoration, grinning at the sight. “Y/N, she is!”

“I told you you’d be able to do it.” You cheer silently. “Naomi loves her papa very much, after all.”

“She does…?” Naoya hesitantly asks, looking up to you. You nod.

“Of course, she does, you should see…” you suddenly yawn, perhaps inspired by your daughter. “You should see how happy she gets when you videocall us!”

“Really?” He beams, perhaps a bit too loud for the baby’s liking, Naomi whines. “Oh, sorry pumpkin.”

You chuckle.

“You should start putting her on the crib, so she doesn’t wake up when you move her.” You suggest, and Naoya nods before heading over to the crib, carefully peeling her away from him, laying her down on the soft mattress—thankful that she doesn’t begin to cry again while doing so—eventually covering her with the blankets, keeping her warm and safe from the harshness of the night.

At the sight of his adorable baby resting, chest slowly rising and falling, indications that she’s finally fallen asleep, Naoya can’t help but smile and gently caress her cheeks, before leaning down to kiss her on the top of her head.

“Goodnight, Naomi.” He whispers, Naomi gurgles. “Papa loves you very much.”

And the silence of the night, while lovingly admiring his daughter, a question crosses Naoya’s mind.

“… Does she really love me?” Your husband asks, going back to the previous subject.

“Yes, there’s no denying it.” you slowly say. “She… loves you…”

Naoya smiles.

“I was worried I wouldn’t be able to get her back to sleep.” He adds. “But… I guess she isn’t as afraid of me, or at all.”

“Hmm…”

“Thank you so much for everything, Y/N. You’ve done so much for our family; I don’t think I’ll ever be able to repay you for it.” Naoya adds, cooing at the adorable way Naomi gently frowns, before turning back to you and heading back to the bedroom. “Anything you want, whatever you need, I’ll do it—just say the word and I’ll—"

Only to find you were already asleep, leaning back on the nearby rocking chair, exhaustion completely taking over your senses.

He chuckles.

You were exhausted too, that much he could see underneath the dim light of the moon, and while he feels a bit ashamed you still had to come to aid him, it is nothing compared to the love and appreciation he feels for you, as well as the reassuring words you gave him towards his doubts.

Naoya quickly heads over to you, carefully picking you up from the chair and carrying you all the way back to the bedroom, where he’d place you over the futon, underneath the blankets before cuddling up against you; taking in your warmth and scent that doesn’t take long to lull him into sleep, but not without sighing, giving your head one last kiss, before expressing the only sentiment he’s ever felt for you the moment his eyes laid on you.

“Goodnight, Y/N. I love you.”

him feeling useless because he's somewhat of an absent (although not voluntarily) father and hating how sometimes naomi doesn't feel that familiar/comfortable with him is 😭😭😭 ugh I'm out here humanizing naoya.

anyways, I hope you liked my take on it 🥺 this was really sweet and a bit sad to write, but enjoyable nonetheless!!

Thank you so much for sending in this ask, ajhgagjkakajgagjjak keep feeding my domestic needs... i dare you....

take care, and hope to see you soon!!!

#naoya zenin #naoya zen'in #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x you #jjk naoya #naoya zen'in x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #prompt series: jujutsu kaisen #ask

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onceuponapuffin · 7 months ago

Text

Fanatic Intervention Part 3!!

Okay, this thing needs a name. Please suggest ideas in the comments :) I know this part is tedious, but the thing with self-insert is you have Establishing to do before any Real Action happens. We'll get there, just hang on.

//Edited to include title.

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***********

The shaking must have been more visible than you thought, because Muriel is at your side before you can speak. They touch your shoulder gently.

“Um, excuse me,” they say, “Sorry, but you’re shaking an awful lot. Maybe you should sit down.” You nod, and it takes concentration, but with Muriel’s help you make it to the sofa. Apparently caffeine and adrenaline aren’t the best mix. Your breathing speeds up, despite your best efforts, and the rest of the room feels fuzzy. Shit, you do not need this right now. There’s talking and movement, but listening to the words feels too sharp, and the best you can do to convey that you are not okay is to shake your head over and over and over. You reach out a hand next to you, and are surprised to find the sleeve of Aziraphale’s shirt. It’s not ideal, but it’s something, and he doesn’t pull away. You focus on the feel of the cotton, the button on the cuff, the pattern of the stitching in the seams. Slowly, you’re able to tune back in. You focus on your breathing, you look around and count five things that start with B – button, books, brown, bow tie, black. Crowley hands you a mug of cocoa, and you accept it, running your thumb along the porcelain wings and letting your hands feel the heat of the drink. You take a sip and take stock.

Multiverse travel (?), mouthing off to the literal Voice of God (lol), brush with death (or...eternal saltiness?), confronting your very limited mortality (at least it’s 5 lives and not 3), panic attack. WELP. This is going well so far. Just peachy. You take another sip, and notice that everyone’s waiting. Oh, right. You clear your throat.

“Thanks,” You say, “Sorry about that. Um...I’m gonna guess that you all have some questions.”

“That would be accurate, yes,” Aziraphale says next to you. Now that you are better, he stands, straightens his waistcoat, and moves to stand nearer the chair (and Crowley), and watches you with his hands folded in front of him. “The first of which is, who exactly are you?”

“Buckle in, folks,” You say to them, “You’re in for a ride.”

And so you begin your info dump. You notice Muriel taking dedicated notes. Good, they’ll probably need those later. You tell them that you’re not sure exactly where you’re from, but it’s not here. You explain the tv show, the radio show, you even mention the musical, and of course, when you get to the book, you ask Crowley to find it on the shelf behind him. It’s right where you remember Jim leaving it. Crowley opens it, and you begin on instinct:

“’It was a nice day. All the days had been nice. There had been rather seven of them thus far, and rain hadn’t been invented yet.’ Now skip a couple lines Crowley. ‘I said that one went down like a lead balloon.’ Sound familiar? There’s more.” You stop quoting there, because Crowley has started flipping through the pages quicker. Aziraphale holds out his hand, and after a while, Crowley hands it to him, then goes to a corner where you notice him taking a few deep breaths. You lean to the side to see that he’s not smoking, exactly, but definitely smoldering. You look at Aziraphale next, and see him turn white as a sheet, before handing the book to Muriel’s eager hands. The scrivener is the only one who looks delighted as they flip through. Aziraphale cleares this throat and composes himself.

“Uhm...now I believe you told Metatron that...The Almighty sent you here. Is...is that actually the case?”

“Honestly,” You say, “I have no idea. I just needed to get him out of your shop and away from you.”

“Away from...me?”

“Yeah...um...” You notice that Crowley has come back to the conversation now, although his sunglasses are slightly askew. You glance at Muriel, who has noticed the shift in your tone, has closed the book, and is now watching you. They put the novel on the nearest surface and reach for their notebook again.

And so, you explain the most solid fan theories that you know. That their joint miracle from the other day made them a threat for Apocalypse 2.0, and that Metatron was here to separate them, by offering Aziraphale the job of Supreme Archangel. This news is met with...surprise.

“Well that’s just stupid,” Crowley says, “He says no, in your tv show, clearly.”

“Yes, I rather can’t imagine I’d be so keen to return to Heaven after everything.”

“Weeeeelllll…...”

The room goes silent, except for Muriel’s writing. They stop after a moment, unaware of the silence.

“So then, you were trying to keep them from being separated because the power of an angel and a demon is most powerful together.”

“Yeah, or the power of love maybe. I’m not sure. Neil’s been kind of vague on that point.” You intentionally keep your gaze on Muriel once you realize what you implied. You will get there. Making those two talk about their feelings is on your list. Patience, patience.

“Oh, the author – Neil Gaiman?” Muriel points at the book with their pencil.

“Yeah, him. He answers questions sometimes.”

Muriel makes a note. You realize something.

“Wait a minute, Muriel,” You say, “Are you...on board with this?”

Muriel stops writing and considers your question for a minute.

“Well, see, the thing is,” They begin, “I’ve seen an awful lot that I never thought I would see? Just in the last week. Like a demon being nice –“

“HEY! Not nice!”

“And the Archangel Gabriel being in love with a demon and running away with them. And then you fell out of nowhere, and honestly what you said to the Metatron may have been a lie, and therefore, you know, bad, but it makes sense. If God didn’t want you here, you wouldn’t be here. So if I help you, I’m helping the Will of God, right?”

Crowley is the one to break the silence that follows.

“Honestly I would have thought it’d take longer for you to take after me. I have to say, I am impressed.”

“Take what after you?”

“Nevermind.”

“Well,” says Aziraphale, “Is there anything else that we need to know about?”

You think about the kiss. You think about everything that came after. You think about ‘and I would like to spend -’ But no, none of that is relevant now. Why do you feel like you’re forgetting something?

The bell at the door rings. You turn around to see Maggie and Nina. UGH. Right.

“I’ve got it, ladies, no worries! Come back later!” You call, desperately.

“Excuse me! No, we need to speak to these two now if you don’t mind!” Maggie says. Clearly she doesn’t care who you are or what you’re doing here.

You roll your eyes. Honestly, you don’t have beef with Maggie and Nina. You agree with them telling off Crowley and Aziraphale, it’s just that you can’t help but feel that the clock is ticking. But, well, there’s no helping it is there? With a sigh, you stand.

“Come on, Muriel,” You say, “Let’s go to the kitchen and get some more cocoa while these four talk.”

Muriel follows you into the kitchen. You don’t listen, you don’t need to. All you need to do is refill your drink while Maggie and Nina tell them off. While you’re at it, you try to convince Muriel to have one. Despite your best effort, you’re unsuccessful. Oh well, all in good time. When you hear the bell chime again, you go back into the shop to find Aziraphale and Crowley looking very pink in the cheeks. You can’t help but smirk.

“All right, chaps?” You say in your best-terrible-British-accent. Aziraphale nods. Well good. Because you all have work to do.

❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 🖤

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