#what the fuck did i just bring upon this cursed land

[justatalkingface]

The 'Great' MHA Read Along, Part Five (Chapters 22-44): The Mandatory Exploitive Tournament Arc

Been awhile, huh? Let's see if I can still pull this off. I'm warning you, this is probably going to have a bit of heft to it.

We start off people trying (and failing) to investigate Shigarki and the Villains and, first off, a couple of things. The whole, 'Quirk Registry' shit? Very X-Men. I'm... kinda mixed feelings on it. It makes sense for a government to try and keep track of this kind of shit, but at the same time it feels like a whole lot, you know? That said... the way the guy in the suit phrased it makes it seem like they only searched for 'Shigaraki/Disintegration' and 'Kurogiri/OP warping' pairings, which seems... dumb. Like, really dumb.

Are they.... are they not going to search for anyone with a similar Quirk? Because it sounds like there are other people with similar Quirks, so... what about them? Oh, this pale haired guy who mutters a lot about how horrible heroes are isn't named Shigaraki, so clearly this isn't the guy? Do some ground work or something, man, bloody hell.

*spits out drink*

Even All-Might thinks Shigaraki is a man-child, lol. Brutal. That said... Vlad goes, 'You mean he's just like a kid with a 'power' or something?!'

And I. My dude. You're just some guy with a power. It feels like some depersonalization of the 'villains' because, yeah, everyone in this story is, in fact, just some rando human, 99.9% of the time with super powers. I don't know, it just feels like that's this really concerning perspective for someone in authority to have.

'I keep forgetting this is an actual school!'

That. That's... actually really concerning? Everyone, literally everyone, from Aizawa, to the students, to the actual author, can't seem to figure out if UA is some military academy meant to pump out child soldiers, or an actual high school meant to prepare children to go into society. And not to belabor the point here, one I've talking about on and off again for awhile, but that's fucked up.

I can't help but get the impression that UA (and presumably every other hero academy) is some military complex, setting up the students to live a life where the only way they know how to live is through violence and trying to be famous, but it's just... pretending to have standards, pretending to care for the kids as anything more than the next generation of... idol-police, or something. The way every school related thing is so out of place, the way their grades are so unimportant... it's very telling.

And like. It's not a bad thing, per say. Morally bad, sure, but from a story telling perspective? For a story like this, the way the heroic's school is morally dubious is actually a really good plot point to work off of. But... that's the problem. It never happens.

If the setting was fucked up enough, it'd be understandable if it wasn't explored, but it's not. I feel like there's some fertile ground to talk about... how heroes don't know how to handle living normal lives. How to cook, clean, do taxes, hIstory (which is, of course, very loaded sort of topic in a more dystopian kind of a set up) and so on. There's no way they have the time and energy to do all the thing a normal kid should do at their age, and as they grow up, and get these dangerous, fucked up jobs? There has to be consequences to that.

And the next line later, they bring up, you know, a bunch of terrorists just attacked the school. Which is, in fact, a serious fucking concern! What does Aizawa say?

'No no, we're only doing because we're so sure we have this shit locked down.'

Spoiler alert: They did not, in fact, have this shit locked down. In the least.

My god, this is so fucked up. It's pretty clear that the fact this is still happening is because UA, and heroics as a whole, honestly, is doing a show of force to try and make all the bad things go away. In all honesty, they're putting these kids lives at risk; the only reason nothing went wrong isn't because 'the school had all its ducks in a row when it comes to crisis control' or what the fuck ever, but because AFO didn't want to do anything. And you know why he doesn't interfere?

Because it's so damn useful for him that they flat out broadcast the details of the students and what their Quirks are!

And don't even get me started on this 'Olympics have fallen out of favor' bullshit. It's a world wide event, and it doesn't matter if the population has... shrunk (? That's what my translation says, anyways. Is this honestly saying that so many people died that the Olympics no longer holds any attraction? I mean.. what? What the fuck? What happened???? Why in the hell is this getting brushed over?! Or is that just a bad translation, and if so what is he saying is the reason the Olympics no longer have any appeal?) or whatever, because that's just... bullshit. That's just bullshit. If super powers happen, and they get at all stabilized and regulated like they are in here, all that's going to happen is that the powers are going to be part of the Olympics, and a lower population count really isn't going to change the fundamental reasons why it's popular in the first place.

Speedster racing, various forms of competitive flying (racing (in all its variations), acrobatics, mid-air dancing, synchronized flying.... flight along has dozens of potential new Olympics sports, easy), something like shot-put hurling but with some kind of projectiles, fire, lasers, whatever? Oh yeah, the Olympics are going to be just fine.

So please, Hori, spare me your obsessive need to make heroics the most important thing EVAH all of the time.

But, wait, there's more! It's not just, the new super Olympics, oh no, this is for their careers. In high school. This is, apparenlty, a make or break moment for the rest of their lives (again, with however that undefined heroics ranking and what not works). How old are they? What, fifteen? 'Here, go do bloodsports, and if you fuck up, you're going to be a menial, loser fry-cook of a wannabe police officer, dressed in brightly colored spandex for the rest of your life, barely making any money, and never getting any real respect or validation for putting your life at risk'.

Oh, I have opinions on the Sports Festival, believe me, I have a lot of opinions, but I'd like to save at least some of these more for when the actual Sports Festival starts, and not, like, five pages into the first chapter out of what, twenty two? We've got the time.

Uraraka! You're an actual character! My, this is nostalgic. I always loved the contrast between her hyper cute-zied design of her and the fact she's down to beat the living shit out of someone at the drop of a hat, and it's nice to have that again.

(Also, she's showing more ability to inspire the class here than Bakugou has shown literally the entire series, no matter how much Hori goes on about his 'charisma' or whatever.)

And then we get into her "impure" motivations to be a hero, (which I've also talked about on occasion), and it's very humanizing, both for Uraraka as a character, and the industry as a whole. It's one of those great set ups Hori ended up dropping on world building, which sucks because it'd be so interesting if he got into the nuts and bolts of the world a bit. I'm not saying we need to see the tax code or anything, but for a series that's about corruption and what not, some more detail would really help pull all of this together.

Ah, Dumb Might. I didn't miss you, except I kind of did because Dumb Might is still better than Useless-Side-Character Might.

Also, can I talk about how stupid it is that Dumb Might is burning his less than an hour's worth of time 'teaching' students again? Because holy fuck that's such a waste it's honestly criminal.

And what the hell is this switch in motivations, here? All Might never mentioned, you know, replacing him is the Symbol of Peace before now. Before this point, the whole reason he chose Izuku is that he'd be worthy user of his power, not, what, replacing him. If Izuku never gained any real fame, but still managed to save a lot of people? Before-this-point All Might would have been fine with that. More than that, he would have been proud of it, proud his successor was humble and chose to focus on doing good rather than fame. Hell, not too long ago it was pointing out by All Might that Izuku wouldn't want to use All Might's fame to benefit himself, to go slow and steady and earn his success rather than relying on fame.

Where the fuck did this come from? What the fuck kind of pressure is he trying to put on this kid?

And then right after that, we see flashes of who All Might used to be with the whole 'don't forget how you felt at the seaside park, that day', bit. Because, like, that's good. That's great! It's real, and deep, and gritty, and I'd love it if it wasn't being use with this set up, because those expectations work in other shonens, but they don't work here. Izuku can't do what All Might did, because he can't stop damn hurting himself. Going Plus Ultra, here, now, for this? It could cause real, serious harm to him for the rest of his life! And for what? To make a good impression?

And if something would call him on that, it could still work, because All Might is canonly shit at taking care of himself, that could, like, close the circle for all of this, bring it together with the two them as shit at at self care as a place to build them improving off of, but for whatever reason, Hori never went all the way on that because he was too damn afraid to commit to it, commit to a story, commit to a theme, commit to a moral.

...Holy shit, how many pages is this? We haven't even gotten to actual Sports Festival yet in the post about the damn Sports Festival.

And now we have this creepy, kind of morbid mob of people filling the hallway to stare at Class 1-A for.... being attacked by terrorists.

*what the fuck.jpeg*

What is wrong with you people?! What the actual hell is wrong with you???

And then Shinso rolls up:

"Wow. Look at these arrogant assholes, so excited about not getting killed. I'm going to declare war on them, because they deserve it for getting all high and mighty."

...

You know, I completely forgot about the epic story of, 'Shinso Hitoshi and his Completely Unmerited Persecution Complex'. I'm sad that I remember that now.

Bakugou: "People's opinions don't matter once your at the top."

Me: *looks at how much people's opinions matter to getting to the top, and staying there*

Me: ...Uh.

Thank you, Kaminari, for pointing out his edgy bullshit is, in fact, actually bullshit, and is only going to make his life more difficult for no reason. I like you as an actual person who does things other than cheerlead for Bakugou.

Izuku. Izuku no, Izuku...! Damn it. Bad Izuku. Bad! Stop getting inspired by the festering waste spewing out of Bakugou's mouth!

Cue all of two panels of the media being absolute assholes only out to make ratings with no redeeming features.

And... here's the actual Sports Festival, god knows how long into this post later!

(if you believe the text editor I just posted all of this into? Well into four pages. ...Even with my generous use of spacing, I think I have a problem.)

..Wait. Wait. Where the hell is this happening?

*does five seconds of research on the wiki*

I'm right. They have a stadium for this. Like, a giant ass sports stadium that exists for this. Only for this. That is used once a year.

At this point, I'm honestly wondering why UA isn't just it's own city. Like, Izuku should have moved here, along with the rest of the students, and all the families and various staff needed to run this just.... live on site. It's not like it'd cost them anything, since they apparently have spare cities sitting around for the kids to trash.

That's... that's actually a really interesting idea? Because it'd be a hero run city, then, which feels like it'd work well into the over commercialized, corrupted state heroics is supposed to be like, their overwhelming level of influence. I don't think that's what Hori was going for, to be clear, I think he has no idea just how much space he's causally put on UA's campus and didn't think through the implications... at all.

Ooh, and here comes Todoroki's characterization.

And... here comes the bloodsport, because that's what all of this is: bloodsport. They're throwing a bunch of teenagers onto this stage, broadcast them to the entire country, and have them fight against each other for fame. This society is so fucked up.

Random Gen Ed kid: Yeah, he placed first in the Heroics Entance Exam.

...Yeah. As fucking stupid as it is that Bakugou somehow placed first, it does make sense the person who place first in the Heroics Entrance Exam would be class representative in a school for heroics. Damn, you're salty, kid, but you're also kinda dumb, not going to lie.

Bakugou: *opens his mouth on live TV*

Bakugou: *vomits diarrhea for the entire country to see*

Izuku: ...Wow, Bakugou's so cool! He's grown up and mature now!

...Izuku. Izuku, buddy, please, stop doing this to yourself.

As yet another thing I've mentioned before, a lot of our views on Bakugou comes from Izuku. Izuku who has, from chapter one, all but worshipped Bakugou. Even when he does things wrong, even when he's actively fighting against him, Izuku can't stop himself from going on and on about how great Bakugou is, how cool and tough and determined he is. Izuku's hero worship of his abuser is sheltering Bakugou's actions from the readers, papering over all of his worst traits with a a transparent facade that he's this glorious figure. It's the narrative going the extra mile to cover his arrogant ass, to make him seem like a rival instead of an bully, someone worthy of respect rather than contempt.

Hmm. I don't want to go too much into the nuts and bolts of the event, I think, since I've done that before, so let's try something else: How Many Times Could This Kill A Literal Child? Where I, you guessed it, count how many times a teenager could have been killed, on national television, in this event.

Count one: The start of the race itself, where... *counts how many kids are in 1-A, multiplies by eleven*... two hundred and twenty kids run forward at the same time, trying to force themselves through the same opening. This shit is why it's illegal to shout fire in a theater, because a stampede like this could get someone trampled to death, or maybe crushed by the sheer weight of the crowd (which is something that happens, someone getting killed by the a crowd of unruly people just... squeezing them on accident).

*stares at Shinso being carried around like a wannabe king instead of using his own damn legs judgingly*

Count Two: Mineta gets bitched slapped by a robotic arm bigger than he is. I don't think I have to get into how that could be fatal.

Count Three: The army of Zero Pointers who could easily step on someone.

*Momo wondering about how UA can fund this makes me feel very validated, BTW*

Count Four: Todoroki dumping the Zero Pointer on the rest of the competition to block the way, again for obvious reasons. He obviously doesn't meant to, but this kid isn't even looking back. This is both lamp shaded and then dismissed because it happens to the only two people who could shrug that off, but holy shit that could have killed so many of them.

...The cameras are robots. The cameras are robots with AIs that are cheering on the other robots. I- I can't- what?!?

And then everyone can't stop themselves from praising Bakugou for the radical idea of going over a problem instead of blasting through it. Wow, Bakugou. Amazing. Such brains, such smarts.

Count Five: The Fall. Because there's no way that anyone could get themselves killed by. You know. Falling. If I was more generous, I'd say something like, 'There's probably something down there to catch them if they fall', but I'm not terribly impressed by UA's ability to actually keep these kids safe, so that doesn't make me think they'd have thought that through that much.

Grudgingly, I'm going to give a landmines a pass, because they're explicitly supposed to be non-lethal, and them blowing up didn't do any real damage. Burns, maybe, possibly a broken limb, probably some scars, but this count is about people dying. Izuku's pile could have been, maybe, but that's a level of deliberate action on his part big enough that I can't really blame UA, per say.

Eraserhead, on how 1-A has improved: I didn't do anything.

...Well. At least he's honest.

One other thing: I've said before how bullshit All Might telling Izuku to 'fight to win' was, and right here, here's the proof: All Might explicitly going, "I was afraid you'd be too nice to try and beat other people in competitions, but you proved me wrong! I'm so proud!". You know, fighting to win. Like he later says Izuku doesn't for some mysterious reason *cough*, to make him seem at the same level as Bakugou, *cough*. Poor, poor All Might, yet another victim of Bakugou's narrative warping favoritism.

And here we see the management kids going all out in how to sell Izuku and his brand, which is so very fucked up, for them and the people they're 'selling'. I'm aware this is something that celebrities go through, (which is fucked up for them as well, don't get me wrong; I'm an equal opportunity 'this is fucked up' call out-er), but these kids are in high school. The fact that they're doing this, and getting this done to them, in such numbers, in such an early age... yeah. There's no way this could give them lots and lots of long term stress and psychological problems, right?

Meanwhile, as we get to the offical rankings, I think it's time go back over the 'How Many Times Could This Kill A Literal Child?' count... at five. Five times they could have been killed on complete accident.

That is not a good score.

I'm stopping it here because the other events don't have the same problem, but instead of a whole new problem of delibrately pitting them against each other. On live TV. With minimal supervison. Cementoss popping in at the last second in Izuku vs Todoroki, considering how badly Izuku got hurt in the process, does not fill me with a great sense of these fights being well monitored.

*gets an omake chapter*

*Bakugou gets called Izuku's childhood 'friend'. Bitch, please.*

So. Here's a new point: the million point bullshit is... well. Bullshit. It's the snitch in Quiddich all over again, giving the hero something both super import, with an extra layer of difficulty, to drive up the stress and stakes, only kicked up by a million. Making more than the others makes sense, and making it enough to pass by itself is still pretty reasonable, but making it so excessively much has no point other making Izuku feel isolated from his peers and hunted by his classmates.

Also, Mt Lady going on about how 'great' an exercise the second round is is missing the point that this is literally a thing Japanese kids do in school. Literally, this is a game they're playing with Quirks, not some tactical exercise; it's like saying that playing hide and seek makes you great at hunting people down or something. Again, Hori, dial back your constant need to tell us how great the Sports Festival is. Because it isn't. It really, really isn't.

More doses of everything drooling over how great Bakugou is, and how much of a total shit of a human being he is, joy. Mineta and Shouji's teamup is actually pretty damn brilliant, even though it's tainted by how much of a one-dimensional character Mineta is. Iida is getting shown as Izuku's enemy, but honestly it looks more like he's just trying to improve himself more than anything, while acknowledging how competent Izuku is. Not just that he won the first round, or has a lot points but that Izuku, as a person, is the goal he wants to surpass; there's some good shit there, and pretty validating, if Izuku could allow himself to accept it.

Oh Mei! Mei... actually, I have a post I need to do about the Mei and Izuku dynamic at some point, how they're so designed to work together, but yeah she's fun.

And then Uraraka thinks about how strategic Izuku is being and again, I can't help but contrast this with how things happen later on; even if Izuku never lets himself really feel the respect people have for him, people at this point in time really, honestly seem to respect him, not for his Quirk, but for his brain, his determination, his heroism; it's so well setup for Izuku to stand on his own two feet without OFA and it's some really good stuff. It's a shame Hori gets rid of it.

Hmm. Class B. Class B is... interesting. They're set up as rivals but after this it never goes anywhere, and just leaves us with a bad impression of Monoma, without letting him get a good chance to get past it. I don't like him, honestly, his personality grates at me and he needs to get over himself, but he doesn't deserve the hate he gets from the fandom.

That said, though, the Class A vs Class B victory philosphy is honestly just another example of destroying yourself vs having realistic limits, how All Might and Izuku keep destroying themselves vs everyone else not doing that. The fact Class B is actually thinking ahead is smart, but the series doesn't give them that credit because it's not ambitious enough... even though that runs straight into conflicting with Izuku and his issues.

Hori, fucking commit already. In all honesty, it feels like 1-B should have won over Bakugou and knocked him out of the compition; they planned it out, and played him like a sucker, because he's a bullheaded moron. It's all right there, but right as they win... Eraserhead shows up in the booth and says, 'Yes, you've won, but actually no, because Bakugou need to win anyways. So he is. Because REASONS!' Then All Might gets dragged into that same bullshit just to make it really clear that no, Bakugou is right. Planning? Strategy? That's for losers. Real winners just need to want it hard enough, and no one wants things more than Bakugou!

It would have been better, as a story, and for everyone's character development, if that had happened. Bakugou would have lost to some 'nobodies', Izuku would have gone past him without even validating him with a fight, and Class B and Monoma would have gotten a better chance to show themselves as characters; win win win.

And then Endeavour shows up. Fuck Endeavour. Also that is a man who looks like a serial killer. Dumb Might continues to reign and be completely unable to recognize when someone hates him when he monologues about it right in front of him.

Meanwhile, Bakugou is just... there. For some reason. Why? Why does he need to be there for this? It makes his hissy fit later even worse when you realize he knows why Todoroki doesn't use his fire, and it has literally nothing to do with him. Ignoring him, though, Todoroki and Izuku's moment here is some good stuff, a nice setup for a healthy rivalry based on mutual respect, rather than the toxic mess he has with Bakugou.

Ugh. That cheerleader bullshit. Honestly, it says a lot that they can be told that, 'Aizawa says you need to dress up as cheerleaders', and apparently no one questions this, because of course Aizawa would pull some kind of weird bullshit on them with absolutely no warning at what anyone else would think is the worst possible time.

Midnight being really creepy about how she talks to teenagers, of course, and now... Shinso.

'Consent is for losers' Shinso. 'Everyone is coasting on their Quirks except for me, who only knows how to use my Quirk' Shinso. 'Let me use my Quirk on someone before we even get in the arena so I can blatantly cheat' Shinso. 'No one else has dreams or ambitions' Shinso.

I don't like Shinso. I like the idea of Shinso, sure, but that idea is another one of those paper thing veneers Hori likes to put on his characters, without doing the work to make that match the reality; the only hardship we've seen him go through is his apparent inability to work hard. Like, everyone loves Shinso, in story and out, they can't stop themselves from telling him how great his Quirk is. And you know what? It is. It is a great Quirk.

But Shinso talks like he's had a such a hard time with it, even though he seems to love it, love using it, and the way he acts, like he knows he can go through a career as a hero based only on that Quirk. He's wrong, since he's so out of shape he can't even run, apparently, but he's operating off that assumption at this point, which conflicts with his poor little martyr act.

I want you to look at the iceberg Todoroki makes, and compare it to his efforts against Stain. If he did that against him? That fight would have been over the minute he showed up, and Todoroki ambushed him. This is pretty much our last moments of Todoroki, certified badass, before the nerfs roll in. Savor it, Todoroki fans, because he'll never recover from having to lose against Bakugou.

Another omake, which seems like foreshadowing about Hori deals with women characters: bringing up a good characterization, or valid idea (do women heroes need sexiness to do their jobs?), before throwing it away to fall for the same tropes that he was making a stand against just a minute ago (women getting in a cat fight, which apparently gets really explicit, all of this on a TV before Mineta, Hori's avatar of his own horniness).

Then, as if to prove my point, we get Bakugou vs Uraraka where, like Class B before her, she does everything right, gets the win... and then gets it taken away at the last minute by idiotic bullshit pulled out of nowhere (since when could Bakugou make a blast like that? Why does he need those bomb gauntlets if he can do that?) because Bakugou isn't allowed to lose. And then Eraserhead, Hori's mouthpiece, shouts down the crowd, and us, when we think bad thoughts about it because that isn't allowed either; we need to love Bakugou.

Bakugou respects women! ...Just as much as he respects everyone else. That is to say, he doesn't. Hell, he doesn't respect her enough to think Uraraka planned her own fight! He just gets one line for one second that makes it seem like he respects her, but of course once that moments gone it's back to the normal level of complete disrespect. That's totally character growth right there, one second of acting different before returning right back to standard behavior.

So... Izuku vs Todoroki. I like the fight, it's very dramatic, very cool, but... stop to think about it a second, and about a minute in, Izuku's entire ass hand is broken. That is not OK. Why are they letting it go on? It's simultaneously a great fight, but a seemingly awkward implementation of Izuku having a Quirk, because so much of this arc is built off of him not using a Quirk, not having it. This fight only works with it, though. And it's cool, don't get me wrong, but it's shallow at the same time because of the Quirk, because Izuku has to go Plus Ultra, has to go past his limits. Instead of accepting a more reasonable win, he has to win, period, and he doesn't have the power for that.

There's this awkward conflict here between the story's various narratives, between Izuku needing to suffer, and struggle, and break himself, and his more grounded planning and actions, and you can see Hori's old, better planned out ideas getting replaced with newer, less thought out ones. It's honestly kind of a theme for this arc in it's own right.

Flaws aside, though, the fight is gripping, and it's a great setup for Todoroki, a great starting point in making him an important character, in giving him growth. Shame Hori ends up throwing all that away literally the next fight.

Well, before that happens, let's talk the one two punch of, 1, Izuku having done himself permanent, life long damage, which nobody thought to stop, and 2, the sheer, unmitigated clusterfuck of Recovery Girl going, 'I'm not going to treat wounds like these'.

So. If Izuku breaks anything... well. She's not going to treat that. I guess he has to walk around with a broken finger/hand/arm, without any medical attention whatsoever? Well. I certainly don't see any problems with that.

Then we get Bakugou, who canonly has problems using his Quirk for extended periods of time, outlasting someone by using his Quirk for extended periods of time, before going on to fight someone who uses cold, his canon weakness, and ignoring how it should completely neutralize his Quirk to overpower it, through what I can only call his sheer, narrative warping concentration of favoritism.

On what happens after he wins... I've seen people say that he doesn't mean to attack Todoroki, just try to wake him up, but looking at that scene: he's holding Todoroki's body up with one hand as if to shake him, sure, but it's the other hand that's the problem. The way he's holding it is, for his Quirk, an offensive pose, making it ready to attack his target. I'll give him the benefit of the doubt (against my own opinion) and say it's not proof positive that he was about to attack, but there's no getting around that Bakugou had himself perfectly set up to hit Todoroki, full blast, while he was unconscious. Even if it's the more innocent explanation, that feels like something that should have disqualified him because... that's really concerning. That feels a step away from him threatening victims he thinks should have stood up for themselves or something; it's not heroic, in the slightest. The fact they had to knock him out, presumably for Todoroki's own safety, says enough about how bad that is.

The fact that the ending comment is basiclly lamenting from his perspective, that this 'isn't what he wanted' is... certainly a choice. He won, but, gasp! The person with long held issues in using his full power that long predate him didn't use his full power! The poor baby!

Then we get to the award ceremony where they... chain him up? Why!? If the doesn't want the damn award, don't give it to him; they let those guys earlier give up when they felt they didn't deserve it, why is Bakugou different? It feels like it's Hori tying him up here, against Bakugou's own will, and characterization, to give him that win just so he can win, but also to forcefully set up Bakugou's own importance with the League later. It's ham handed. It's probably child abuse. It's stupid.

It's fucked up all the way down, is what I'm saying.

Then All Might shows up, and fucks up his entrance timing because he's not allowed to win anymore, of course, and then forces that medal on Bakugou.

Uuuugh.

Last couple of panels, though, are pretty nice: we build up Uraraka's character, get the next arc set up, set up Izuku (fucking finally) getting away to use his own damn power, and develop Todoroki a bit.

A nice little cherry on top of the shit sundae.

[somnoir]

Prodigal son beyond Time - part 2

Part 1 | Masterpost

Damian first met his great uncle Danyal when he is three years old. His mother says he's met him long ago, when he was but a babe with a memory too fuzzy to remember. But the man before him is his grandfather's favorite child. The son that scowls at his father as he cradled Damian in his arms.

"What have you done?" His uncle scowled, a gentle hand pressed against the back of Damian's head. "He's a child!"

"Danyal!"

"You weren't like this with me." Danyal spat, keeping Damian in his arms and pressing his lips towards his nephew's forehead. Damian notes how cold his uncle's skin felt like, but more welcoming than that of his grandfather's.

"Danyal, he is to be trained like a proper Al Ghul." Grandfather said, frowning at Danyal.

"You trained me like a proper Al Ghul when I was older than him!" Danyal immediately protested, "He's three!"

"Danyal—"

"Ukht, I understand that you wish the best for your son but this is not it." Danyal immediately said, looking apologetic for interrupting Talia, but went back to glaring at Ra's. "I've tried to tolerate the fact that you handle an assassin league, father but this? You taught me to be loyal to the family. You taught me to cherish the family, you're blood—why the fuck aren't you giving the others the same treatment you gave me?!"

"Because they are not you!"

Damian doesn't recall what truly happened that day, but he does remember how his uncle's eyes went from soft blues to the same shade that the Lazarus pits glowed.

Damian remembers everything going dark.

Damian grows up differently.

He continues on his training, but everything is kinder to him. The world is kinder when his uncle is home, having tea with grandfather and overseeing his training. Mother loves him and uncle Danyal the most, claiming that they are blessings to her life.

Grandfather is quieter nowadays, almost docile with his uncle around.

It's a little more peaceful. The assassin's continue to train, to fight. But their reign of terror fall upon those that are corrupt and destroying the world. It's one of the compromises uncle Danyal and grandfather have led too.

Damian grows up differently.

Damian's arrival to the Bats' lives was unprecedented and quite confusing. He was a child raised by assassins, a child raised to become the next leader of the league. But he was... Strange. Strange for that kind of standard. 

Damian was rather sociable, hostile but not downright murderous towards them. 

His uncle did make sure that he had friends in the league.

Ra's had been utterly ecstatic to find out that he had two more grandchildren while Talia was quite pleased to know that she had a niece and nephew. 

Damian had a pair of strange cousins who snuck him out of training to go watch the stars, often getting them scolded, but it was worth it. Dante was older than Damian by five years. He was what other would call an angsty teen with how he often rebelled against his father. Meanwhile, Janelle—preferebly Ellie—was only a year older than Damian himself. She was a mischievous person who made sure that everything around her was swallowed by her own chaos. So when he entered the manor, suddenly struck with the reality that he had multiple siblings instead of just one elder brother, Damian knew what to do. 

Murder was not the answer. 

But by the words of his gracious uncle and the wisdom of his excellent cousins: fight your siblings like a feral child but defend them by being even worse to others. 

So Damian's first act as Dick Grayson's younger brother was to bite him. 

The undead were restless, rising from their graves or haunting their own corpses. It wasn't something they usually dealt with, forced to call upon magicians. 

But even Constantine was bewildered by just how cursed Gotham's lands were. To bring back the dead. Jason was a miracle but this was like an abomination, a literal zombie. 

No one really knew how to properly deal with the dead...

Well...

"My uncle would be willing to provide his assistance in this matter." Damian piped up, examining the contained zombies from a safe distance. All eyes were quickly drawn to him, bewildered and questioning. 

"I hardly think that Dusan would be suitable for this." Bruce sighed. 

Damian scowled, "Not him. My grandfather's first-born is whom I speak off. He is knowledgeable in the occult arts of the dead." 

"Damian... Ra's Al Ghul only has one son." 

"Untrue. Grandfather's greatest pride was always my uncle. He is precious to grandfather and ensures that no one knows much off him. I expected you and Drake to be aware of the first born." 

Tim stiffened, "They weren't rumours?! Ra's actually has some cryptid son?" 

Bruce, who had heard of the old tales of the Demon head's beloved heir, had always thought they were stories to scare the assassins. He's never seen the man, nor has he found any evidence of him in the league. 

Jason finally started paying attention, "So the league's golden boy can help? Dami, I don't think Al Ghul will even let his favorite kid anywhere near us." 

"You underestimate my uncle's love for me."

"You met him?" Bruce quickly interjected. 

Jason shrugged, "He helped me out back then. Patched me up when the pit madness got worse and helped me manage it. But his face was usually covered and no one really knew his name."

"Aside from myself, grandfather, and my mother." 

Bruce frowned, "Nyssa and Dusan don't know their brother's name?" 

"Grandfather says that they do not have the privilege of knowing his name. Mother was the first of his other children to have met my uncle."

"And what about you? You won't give us his name?" 

Damian scowled, feeling rather displeased with his father's choice of words. "Names are powerful, father. My uncle taught me this when I was young." 

Constantine narrowed his eyes, "You're uncle some kind of fae, kid?" 

"Watch your mouth, hellblazer. He does not like you." Damian hissed, having heard all his uncle's rants about the Laughing Magician, especially whenever he'd just randomly pick up Talia and walk around Nanda Parbat like she was a kitten rather than a deadly assassin. "But I shall call upon my great uncle and ask him for assistance. This matter with the undead shall surely pique his interest."

"Tell the old man I said hi!" Jason cheerfully added, sounding quite pleased to hear about the mysterious uncle. 

"No." Damian blatantly denied. As much as he loves Todd (and he will never admit that), he was not going to let anyone threaten his status as his uncle's favorite child. Over his dead body. 

Damian was quick to walk away from all of them, quickly retrieving all the materials he'd need to summon his uncle. Dark green paint for the summing circle, five candles, and an astrology book. 

"Bats... Why the hell is your son performing a summoning ritual? For a ghost of the realms too." Constantine's tone was strained, clearly disturbed and wary of Damian's actions. 

"Damian." Bruce warned but Damian just waved him off. He watched as Jason started lighting up the candles, humming an unfamiliar tune. 

"D'you think the old man will help us?" 

"Of course! Uncle adores me." 

"You think he'll give me his name?"

"I will gut you, Todd." Damian immediately responded with the most nonchalant tone he could ever give. 

Jason shrugged, before taking a step back. 

"Damian! Whatever you're summoning—" 

"I'm summoning my uncle, father. He's the best person to go to with these issues." Damian insisted, before muttering something unintelligible under his breath.

Bruce was startled when Constantine grabbed him, eyes wide and rapidly turning pale. "Why the hell does your son know how to speak the language of the—"

Fire burst forth from the circle, slowly morphing into an icy blast. 

"Dead." Constantine's breath hitched, "Holy shit, your brat just summoned the ghost king." 

Bruce grabbed Damian the moment a hand emerged from the blast of cold. He shoved his on behind him, suddenly feeling frightened as his entire body felt goosebumps. Fuck. Did Damian really just perform a summoning ritual for such a powerful being? He never expected for Ra's to brainwash his son into believing that such a powerful thing—

"Nephew!" 

Bruce blinked, suddenly blinded by the light. 

"Uncle!" Damian escaped from his grasp, rushing into the circle. Constantine practically screamed once Damian ran into the arms of what was supposedly his uncle and the ghost king. 

In front of Bruce was the most gorgeous man he's ever met. 

The floating hair that reminded him of snow and the green eyes that were purer than the Lazarus pits. He couldn't help but swallow thickly, blinking. Damian was held up by the ghost king, allowing the boy to nuzzle into the crook of his neck. 

"Hello, dami (my blood)." The king cooed, his pronunciation of the nickname much different from the shortened version of Damian's name. "I was not expecting you to call me. What's happened, my dear?" 

Damian hummed, but before he could speak, he was immediately interrupted.

"Long time no see, old man!" Jason yelled, waving his arm as if he wasn't in the same room as the king. 

"Jason! Hello! How are you? The corrupted ecto hasn't returned, has it? If it has, just tell me. I'll schedule a check up with Frostbite." The king quickly fussed, not minding the way Damian was baring his teeth at Jason. "Damian, behave!" 

Damian just seemed to whine, refusing to behave and opting to pestering the king. 

"I'm good, uncle. Haven't gone out crazy since you took me to the doctor." Jason smiled, already ripping of his domino mask to show that his eyes were green tinged with blue, not glowing green like the pits. 

"Good, good. But I really must know why I've been called." The king softly said, directing his words to Damian who was already trying to wriggle our his grasp. Gently, the king settled Damian back on his feet. 

"Right. Uncle, my father, Batman. Father, this is my uncle." Damian introduced, his tone hurried and a bit hesitant. 

The king, Damian's uncle, smiled at Bruce. "Hello there, Mr. Wayne. I've wanted to meet you for a long time." The king hummed, "My name's Danny, but the Al Ghuls call me Danyal." 

"Uncle!" 

"Hush, hush, Damian. I can give my name to anyone I want. I don't suppose that your father is worthy of it."

Bruce really should be more concerned about the fact that the king knew his name. 

"But what of the others?" 

"Little one, I sent Nyssa and Dusan letters ages ago. But rest assured, dearest Talia is still the first to earn it." Danny—Danyal—the ghost king softly spoke and patted Damian's head. "And... Oh, it's you."

"Your majesty!" Constantine enthusiastically greeted while Danny scowled. 

"Tax evading bastard." Danny huffed, shaking his head before promptly ignoring the tax evading bastard in question. 

"Damian." 

"The dead are rising."

Danny blinked, blinked again, before he groaned and shook his head. 

"Okay, sorry. That seemed to be caused by an error on my side. Some prisoners of my realms started a riot and some of them managed to break out. Some have most likely decided to overshadow their old bodies." Danny sighed, "I'll have this taken care of. Apologies for the inconveniences."

"These... Zombies have been wrecking havoc across my city." Bruce frowned, "They've been harming people."

"Vengeful spirits do that. They're criminals meant to be in prison. It's rare for breakouts to happen, in all honesty." Danny paused, just long enough to run his fingers through Damian's hair. "But if you wish to take charge, by all means. These are corpses being possessed by their own spirits and... Well... They're out of their minds. Not really considered revenants since the possession isn't quite permanent." 

"Alright, Bats. We've gotta make a proper deal here. His Majesty was summoned so we've gotta offer him something—" 

"That's not necessary." Danny immediately waved Constantine away, evident displeasure from the man. "The sigil I gave Damian was just to call me to him. No need for an exchange."

"Seriously?" Constantine blurted out. 

Danny just shrugged, "He's family. And my favorite nephew." 

Damian smirked, absolutely smug. "I am your only nephew, uncle."

"Mm... Jason's also my nephew." Danny chuckled softly, easily stepping out of the circle and removing it from the floor—leaving not a single stain. "Now... Shall we deal with the dead?" 

Bruce Wayne has made many bad decisions in his life, especially when it came to his relationships. Damian's ghost king of an uncle might be one of them.

Masterpost

[mondaymelon]

₊˚ෆ 𝐅𝐔𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐓𝐇 !! | sagau xiao, childe, zhongli x gn!reader

ˋ°•*⁀➷ cw: uhm. obsessiveness? yandere if you blink a couple times? cult themes... the usual deal with this au

⤷ [ you, the benevolent and kind overseer and creator of teyvat, has descended upon this world in mortal flesh, with a presence that is overpowering, omniscient, and so impossibly pure. ෆ yet, one day, you come into the cathedral with a gash on your arm, dripping with shimmering golden ichor that spilled from your veins. there will always be those who are too foolish to see the light you bring. ]

— sagau!xiao noticed you immediately. it would be hard not to. since the beginning, he had always heard it.

your sound. a beautiful one, a heavenly one. a chord struck him, somewhere in his chest, and he found himself panting on the ground, clutching at the fabric of his shirt.

like a electric charge - one that leaves you startled, tentative, with the tips of your fingers still tingling from what happened moments prior. a buzz in your veins that thrums along with your heartbeat.

he didn't deserve to see you. not with what sins he had committed. but xiao was selfish. he wanted to, with his tainted body, he wanted to praise you, scrape his throat raw with his voice.

and so he did.

his face brightens as you step into the cathedral, dressed in ceremonial robes as per usual. you look ethereal, why would you not? your eyes are warm as they fixate on him, and he can feel his heart skip a beat and words die in his throat. he kneels before you orderly, readying to lift his head when something catches his attention - that is, the coppery scent of blood.

blood?

a droplet splatters onto the dustless floor. melted gold.

xiao's already stood up before he realizes it. his eyes are blown wide, his shrunken pupils sharp, like a cat's. "who. who did this to you?" those words take all the willpower in him to speak. his mind is swirling, racing, thinking up of every single possibility, vision scattered and blurry as unbridled fury teems within him.

"it's nothing. some civilians have begun rioting in the city, saying that i'm an imposter. all i did was show them a little bit of my blood and they all started singing praises, so the issue has been resolved." you shake your head with a soft smile, like this matter isn't anything to concern himself over.

it is.

he hates it. how he feels so fucking powerless, how he couldn't even stop this simple event from occurring in the first place. it's his fault. it's his and everyone else who dared not believe your words. your word is the truth. it is the undeniable laws of the world, what maps the stars and what lays the land.

he'll have time to ingrain that within everyone's minds. even if it means time away from you. but that's not the issue at the moment. he turns to search for bandages, but sees the already-healing wound slowly closing up as your skin mends together.

there's a knife at your side, coated in something that shimmers in the rays of light coming from the high, color-tainted windows.

something in his heart decides, seeing your reserved smile.

there will always be those who are too foolish to see the light you bring.

very well.

then he'll just have to eradicate every last one of them. ₊˚ෆ

— sagau!childe had, to be honest, never cared all that much. why would he, to the person who had abandoned him into the cold, dark, abyss? yet, the smile on your face. it's bright. so bright it burns him. was there a day where he could smile like that?

no, no. he couldn't. that's an expression only reserved for someone as beautiful as you. as pure as you, like a blank, unblemished canvas, with the world as its paint. it's a level of resplendency that no one on this cursed universe could ever hope to accomplish.

a god in flesh, living in a tainted world. a walking contradiction that he had grown to call the thing that allowed him to keep living. something that spurred irony, you who broke all forms of the logic he had made to keep himself sane. perhaps that was why the heart he'd locked away has suddenly begun aching again? is that why he feels so warm from your divine prescence?

"childe?" you call out his name into the vast, empty hallways, glancing around for the familiar sight of a tuft of ginger hair. he hears you at once, rushing to your side with a grin on his face.

"your grace??" he bows at the sight of you, unable -to contain his excitement as he quivers in place, the smile on his lips tugging upwards even more than its current extent. "yes, what's-"

he stops abruptly, his voice faltering as he catches the scent of something iron. one familiar on the battlefield, a liquid that'd paint the surroundings a beautiful red.

his heart pounds. the thrill of a battle? no, that can't be it. if that was the case, how come it felt like he was slowly suffocating on his unspoken words?

that's when he catches the sight of the poorly wrapped bandages encasing your forearms. and the shimmering ichor that's soaked through the hastily wrapped cloth.

he moves to grab your arm, but curses himself out as he quickly changes direction and tightly holds your wrist, his expression more pained than yours, despite you being the one suffering with the injury. "what... your grace, what is this?"

he hates your knowing smile. he hates it. (oh, but does he? could he hate anything that is of you?) it just reminds him how you're all too far for him to reach, a purity that he does nothing to maintain. "there was a riot in the city against the church. luckily, they all quieted down after i gave them a glimpse of..." you trail off, ending your incomplete sentence with a sheepish smile. the rest is self-explanatory, anyway.

his vision trembles as his pupils shake. "haha, you...?" fuck. fuck fuck fuck, just whose idea was it to allow you near a knife? how did you get your hands on that?? which stupid fucking bumbling idiot allowed for this to happen?

it's his fault. he should've been by your side. curse the fatui, curse them all, how could they possibly dare keep him away from your holy being? the guilt that churns within him, is that why he remains mute as you step away, gracefully walking to meet with the other retainers?

there will always be those who are too foolish to see the light you bring.

no, it's fine.

it will all be fine.

cutting off their tongues won't be enough. cutting them up until they're a dismembered, bloody mess isn't even close to what you've suffered for the sake of humanity.

yes, he'll make them realize that. they'll pay with their blood a thousand times over. ₊˚ෆ

— sagau!zhongli had his breath taken away by you before he even saw you, before the two of you had even exchanged words. your presence - it was so simply alluring, a saccharide charm that just drew him closer and closer.

sweet. yes, it was a familiar flavor upon the tongue that had long since tasted the many marvels the world had to offer. like a warm cup of tea, made from the sugary extract of flowers, how the sensation of it seemed to bloom upon your mouth.

ah, how should he put this. perhaps you had procured the blossom in his heart instead? stems, leaves, buds, a floret that'd only appear when you were in his gaze. a steady thrum that ran throughout his body with every stolen glimpse he took from your attention expertly.

perhaps, was this what he felt all those years ago?

did it matter? his soul was resolute, now, and it glowed gold, just like the blessed blood that flowed through every vein and lay in every vessel within that beautiful, beautiful you.

yes, ichor... just like the splatter of it on the ground...? a pang of fear strikes him - has something happened to you while he was away? he should've none better than to trust those good-for-nothing other cultists, who spend all their time babbling about your gloriousness yet turn a blind eye to whenever you require assistance!

no, he had to calm himself down. this wasn't the moment where he should grow frustrated. first, he must confirm the situation... he's planned this out to the every plan b, c, d, e, and so on, so how come he's still feeling so anxious?

there you are, upon your throne, busy conversing with a fellow archon, the one as free as the wind. funnily enough, you were the one that tied him down like a shackle.

"ah, zhongli. are you alright? you're breathing quite hard." you tilt your head, averting your gaze from venti's sparkling eyes and instead fixing them on the usually stoic man's jumbled expression. his shoulder's heave as he resists the urge to collapse at your feet.

"what... what are you... you're hurt?" stained bandages peek out from just below your silk sleeve, a sight that cannot possibly be missed from his attentive gilded eyes. "why didn't you tell me? i-i'll call one of the healers so they can-"

"zhongli, there's no need for that." with a hand, you gently signal venti to leave the scene, which he does, with obvious reluctance. a silence gesture that resonates with appreciation deeply within him. "this was of my own accord."

"your own accord?"

"unbelievers decided to throw a riot, and there wasn't much i could do except...well, don't they say that seeing is believing?" how come you don't look the slightest bit pain? where is your self-pity? your frustration? "anyhow, i'm not in a good state. please leave me for the time being, i don't plan on receiving any more audiences tonight."

he bows hastily, yet each movement is still finely crafted with minuscule adjustments that have taken him thousands of tries to master. he does as you say, and his strides are quick and long. it won't take a genius to see that his facade has crumpled, with the clear agitation that's spreading across his features like a wildfire that devours all in its path.

there will always be those who are too foolish to see the light you bring.

he'll change that. every thrum of the golden markings running up and down his body seem to pulse in unison with his heartbeat, which is raring like he's recently returned from the battlefield.

who would've thought he'd so quickly return.

this time, of his own will. he'd be sure that these fools of this world would learn the truth of your paragon. ₊˚ෆ

(a/n) please save me the delulu has returned and iTS NOT LETTING GO

໒꒱ || ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ (open! send an ask or a comment ♡) : @manager-of-the-pudding-bank, @iamdedinside, @ilyuu, @achlysis, @swivy123

[luvyeni]

p. nerd!jisung x femcheerleader!reader x cheerleader!felix | warnings: threesome, kissing, handjobs, blowjobs, mxm themes | words: 0.7k ~ (725) ���️🐥ㆍ₊⊹

request: if you do threesomes any two stray kids members please 🫶🏻 ( i really like your work.)

authors note. thank you my luv❤️ i hope you like it

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

you and your other cheerleader friend felix bringing back nerd jisung under the pretense of “hanging”

of course jisung was skeptical; both of he never even talk to any of you before today— he never really talked to anyone actually; he stayed to his lonesome, reading a book or doing works that won’t be due for another week or two, so when you and felix approached his lunch date asking for him to hang out after school, he was certain you two were playing with him— and he was wrong per say, you both were toying with him, but that was simply because you both wanted him.

you and felix loved nerds like jisung; wide eyes but never knows what’s going on around them type of guys — jocks never really did anything for the boy of you, but jisung did, and you both wanted to get your hands on him.

like usual jisung didn’t know what was happening, both of you sitting on your bed, he sat awkwardly on the end, watching you both talk about cheer and other stuff he really wasn’t interested in; he clutched the sheets, trying not to eye your legs in your shorts— biting his lips nervously as he kept focusing on the way felix’s lips moved, or the way his hand rested comfortably on your thigh.

“come here.” you finally acknowledged him. “come sit up here with us.” felix coaxed him up. “we invited you to hang out with us and you’re sitting so far away.” he slowly made his way to you two, sitting in between the both of you. “comfy?” you smiled, he nodded; cheeks rosy. “you’re so cute, you know that?”

“n-no.” he stuttered feeling your pink stiletto nails scratching his thigh, felix chuckled. “why are you so nervous jisung?” he questioned. “its just us.” It was felixs turn to put his hand on the other one. “just relax.”

he let out a sigh upon feeling your glossed lips touch his neck. “you’ve never had someone kiss you like that have.” Felix whispered, his hand finally coming to his pants, cupping his cock. “touch you down here?” jisung shook his head, you sucked little marks in his neck. “no-no.”

you smiled against his skin, of course he was a virgin. “you like the way felix is touching you?” you purred in his ear. “can i touch you too?” he moaned as felix unzipped his pants. “i-if you want to.” his eyes followed felix’s hand go into his underwear, touching him. “he’s so hard.”

Jisung felt like he was in heaven as both of your hands worked on his cock, stroking it, both of you kissing each side of his neck, he’s never felt anything like this before. “th-that feels really good.” he whimpered. “yeah?” you pulled away from his neck. “felix how about we make him feel even better?”

felix groaned, pulling away from him as well. “fuck yeah.” felix reached over, kissing you, your lips messily moving against each other; it was natural to you both, you often engaged in things together, no one could satisfy you like each other could. “wh-what are you gonna do?”

you both smiled at each, pushing his legs apart. “make you feel good.” he didn’t know what that meant until he felt both of your lips on his cock. “oh my.” he gasped as you licked his tip. “he taste good.” felix took him into his mouth much like you did. “fuck that feels good.” you licked a stripe up the base his length, meeting felixs mouth at the tip; jisung was gonna blow his load, all of this was just too hot for him; only an hour ago he’d only touched himself a few times, but this was different, both of you working on his cock; taking turns stroking and sucking, making all while making out each other. “i’m gonna cum.” he whimpered.

you both felt his cock twitch, he let out a moan, cum spurting from his mushroom tip, landing on both your faces. “fuck.” Jisung cursed, he’d never cum this much before; and he was still hard. “awe lixie.” you pouted, jisung thought you looked innocent, despite his cum all over your face. “he’s still hard.”

“that’s because he hasn’t had that pretty pussy yet, just wait.” felix said, you moaned feeling felix touch your clothed cunt. “maybe you should fuck him first, let him feel your big cock.” jisung moaned. “tell us baby what do you want first?” you purred. “my cock or her pussy?” jisung didn’t care at this point, he wanted it all. “b-both.”

you turned to each other. “he’s naughty, i like him.” You said. “lets keep him.” felix nodded. “whatever you want pretty.” He watched you get naked, whispering against jisungs neck. “lets fuck him yn , before i explode.” you straddled his lap, kissing his nose, both of you watching felix undress. “you’re ours now.” your finger traced his jaw. “gonna let us use you whenever we want?” jisung nodded. “pl-please use me.”

jisung didn’t know what you both meant by that, but he didn’t care, he wanted both of you— right now. “good boy.” felix groaned stroking his cock.

“cause we’re gonna drain for everything you got baby boy.”

©️LUVYENI

[sadistic-kiss]

Use Me (Kinktober Fic)

SuccubusReader x VariousJJKMen

.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.Chapter Four.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.

Toji Fushiguro.

He had no curse energy but what was surprising was he could still feed you. You don't know what it was that filled your belly, whether it be divine energy or just his life force. If it's his life force then that meant every time he slept with you he was shaving off time. Even after explaining this to him, he had only laughed it off and said he was here for a good time not a long time.

Apparently, so was the other guy but everyone didn't take that so lightly so what the fuck. You did not understand these humans… or maybe it was just these men.

You turn around, pressing your back against the door as you look up at the man under your lashes. Sukuna and Toji were very similar in their sadistic ways. They were butt buddies after all. Toji was just more dormant about it. You weren't even going to waste the energy you got from Yu, no point.

"What?"

"You made Haibara lie?" Toji teased. "Nanami did say you were a bad influence on him."

"He…chose to lie…"

Toji chuckled, "Yeah, for you."

You shrug, "And you choose to risk your life sleeping with me, where is this going I'm starving."

"Ouch." Toji hissed as if he were in pain, "I forgot how bratty you can get when you are hangry." He grinned looking you over with a slow lean of his head. "You want daddy to feed you?"

"Yes!" You went for him, desperate for a kiss but he grabbed your neck and pushed you back into the door.

"Ah ah…" he chuckled at your pout-dammit you got excited too soon!- "Shouldn't you be on the ground kitten?" He questioned with a playful brow.

You glanced down, seeing his semi-hard cock, your heart began to race with anticipation. You slid against the door as Toji praised you for being a good girl, thumb rubbing your neck. Your eyes were focused on your prize, mouth-watering, all the way until your knees landed on the plush rug.

With his other hand, Toji pumped himself a few times, squeezing the tip of his cock. Your eyes fluttered, watching the precum leak upon his thumb. You whimpered looking up at him. Pleading for this taste.

"Such a needy girl…" he purred bringing his thumb to you which you accepted with greed.

You moaned, licking his cum off his thumb. It was just a drop- but dammit it was so good and you needed more. It seemed Toji had decided to bless you this night. He pulled you forward so you could take him.

"Go on spoiled brat."

You didn't need to be told twice! You plopped off his thumb to sink your mouth upon him. Your body hummed to life as you danced on your knees while sucking and licking Toji's massive length.

"Fuck…" Toji breathed while running a hand through his wet black hair. "…You look so good worshipping my cock baby."

Your eyes rolled in pleasure, you could feel your curse mark dance upon your stomach, slowly appearing as if someone were drawing it.

Toji's phone chimed, he glanced at it and then snorted, "The party is about to start." He reached down pulling you off his cock. "Open your mouth."

You chirped excitedly doing as he said. He began to jerk off, fisting himself as he spoke through his grunting.

"You want my cum?"

"Yes! Yes! Mmm~!" You moaned, you wanted it so bad your eyes were watering. You couldn't believe it! He was going to feed you!

"You gonna swallow it all?"

"Yes, Daddy!"

Toji released a curse as he grunted- you opened your mouth as wide as you could and for some reason, he had moved his other hand to cover your eyes. You didn't think much of it, too ready for your euphoric release but that wasn't until you could smell your food but couldn't taste it.

You pushed his hand out of the way just in time to see him finishing wiping his cock with tissue and throwing it into the toilet.

"Noooo!" You chased after it like a dog but you didn't make it in time. Watching in horror as your delicious treat was swirled and gulped down by the toilet. You almost started crying, but hearing Toji laugh at your demise made you downright furious.

Fucking asshole.

~

"Where the hell is my bubble machine?" Gojo hissed while calling the company. He was in the kitchen walking around aimlessly, phone pressed to his ear.

Getou, dressed as a Roman soldier, was sitting on the counter. "I'm sure it'll be here soon."

Gojo scoffed, "Soon? The party is about to start- ah yes hello? Yeah, I'm calling because I ordered a bubble machine, and funny story I couldn't help but notice that it's not here!"

Everyone watched the spoiled man stomp away to complain.

Sukuna snorted, "A better question is where did our pet go?"

Choso shrugged, "We couldn't find her."

Nanami returned to his earlier suggestion, "She may have left."

Sukuna sounded pissed, "You really think she went somewhere else?"

Getou also seemed annoyed by that idea, "Our kitten wouldn't cheat on us."

Choso was starting to have doubts, "Maybe she got tired of us since we didn't feed her."

There was a pause as all eyes shifted to Yu who was now dressed in his Viking costume. "Wh-what? Why-why uh is everyone looking at me?" He looked around as guilty as ever.

"You don't have any input on our missing pet?"

"Uh… well…I think…oh! There she is!" Yu pointed as Toji walked in with you thrown over his shoulder.

The man was wearing his Viking gear, body scratched up like he fought a wild cat. Fresh nail marks no doubt from your claws.

Sukuna pointed an accusing finger at him, "Hey, did you fuck her?"

That only made Toji bark out a laugh, "Ha! No- quite the opposite." He set you down in your fluffy pink bed.

Immediately you turned around looking away from them, deciding the wall deserved your attention much more than them.

Gojo had just gotten off the phone, coming back in, he pointed toward you, "What's wrong with her?"

Toji explained how he flushed his cum and then how angry you got afterward, scratching and biting him as he finished showering and got ready.

Of course, they exploded in laughter, followed by saying how cute you were.

You roll your eyes glaring so hard at the wall that it was a surprise it didn't burn into flames.

Someone pat your head but you didn't turn around.

"Don't worry sweetheart," Gojo spoke, letting you know it was him, you glanced up as he grinned "…we will make sure you are nice and fed before you leave. You know we always take care of you." He chuckled. The doorbell rang making him clap his hands, "Guests are here~! Choso! Go put on your costume! Vikings or Romans, hurry up!"

You continued to pout even though you knew Gojo's words to be true.

"Hey, pet come take a shot with us."

You will be more than satisfied by the end of the night.

.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.Chapter Five.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.

[coff33andb00ks]

Burning - LN

Hopeless, Part 4

{1 - Hopeless} {2 - Luxury} {3 - Poison} {4 - Burning} {Epilogue}

Lando Norris x fem!reader summary: my kingdom for a kiss upon her shoulder, all my riches for her smiles, all my blood for the sweetness of her laughter songs: lover, you should have come over by jeff buckley word count: 5872 warnings: angst, smut <mdni> a.n.: the finale <3

The overlook is quite lovely. Prettier than the photos he'd seen. The sea air is crisp, filling his lungs as he stares at a young family strolling along the beach. Pushing his hands into his pockets he watches them, homesick for something he's never had as the toddler picks up something to show their parents. A wholesome, beautiful moment, unmarred, and he swallows the lump in his throat as it occurs to him that he'll never experience it himself.

Turning his back to the sea, he breathes deep, eyes slowly scanning the area. Trying to match it to the description he'd been given. Gaze landing on the weathered bench he finds he's already walking towards it, one hand slipping from his pocket and reaching to trail along the arm, feeling the wood that's been carved with words and initials. And there, just as he'd been told, the two letters he would know anywhere.

Yours.

He drops onto the bench, leaning forward and trying to keep his breathing normal. It's the closest he's been to you in about a year – one year, two months, one week, five days, thirteen hours.

No, there was that day over winter break. When, melancholy and yearning, he'd spent more than he should have to fly out the week before Christmas, ignoring Oscar's suggestions that he stay away. He'd rented a car, following the roads you'd told him about to the seaside town that you'd described in such detail he could have drawn a map before seeing it. He'd driven the streets, stopped a few houses down from your parents' home. Had sat, watching the house, then cursed himself a million times over for being a fool and driven off.

Oscar hadn't said told you so. He'd merely sighed and nodded, listened to his sad story again.

You'd be so happy that Oscar's become his best mate. He wants to tell you, because he knows that only you would understand why it was such a big deal.

"Mate?"

He looks up, sighing at the sight of Oscar. "Nice, yeah?"

Oscar sighs sadly, sitting next to him on the bench. "You're torturing yourself."

"You said I could have one day," Lando reminds him.

"She's not gonna show up here on a Thursday morning," Oscar says after a moment.

"I know." It would be too movielike if you did. And the only genre of movies that reflects his life is tragedy. Standing, he walks over to stare at the beach again. The family has gone, their footprints already erased by the waves. When he heads back, Oscar stands, and there's a long look before they walk together to the gravel lot where they parked.

"Just call her." It's probably the billionth time Oscar has said the words since Lando's trip to Melbourne over summer break last year.

He exhales, about to lie and say he's deleted your number. But Oscar doesn't deserve lies. "I've tried."

"Did she block you?"

"Dunno." He drums his fingers on the steering wheel, stopped at the end of the lane coming down from the overlook. There's not much traffic, nowhere near enough to warrant him sitting idle for so long. He can't bring himself to hit the call button after punching in your number. Which he still knows by heart. The only number aside from his mum's that he has memorized.

"Lan?" Oscar ventures softly.

"Am I stupid?" he blurts.

Oscar sighs. "No."

"This—" He gestures angrily at their surroundings. "This isn't fucking stupid?"

"I wouldn't say stupid. Ill-advised, maybe?" Oscar follows a passing car with his eyes. "It's been a year."

He knows.

"I think if you were able to get over it, you wouldn't be here right now."

"I don't even know if she's here." His voice is wavering and he can feel the sadness and frustration and anger stinging, piercing what's left of his heart over and over, clawing up his throat and up into his brain, burning his eyes.

"You know her better than anyone." Oscar's voice is still gentle and soft. Careful, and Lando knows he's truly only there to support him. "Where else would she go?"

"Nowhere." This tiny corner of the world is your home.

"Call her."

Lando throws the car into park and bangs his forehead against the steering wheel. "This is stupid. It's been a year. A fucking year. I can't even bring myself to text her or call her, what the fuck do I think I'm gonna do if I bump into her on the fucking street?"

Oscar doesn't speak, merely waits.

"What would I say to her?" he whispers, scared to raise his voice because he knows he'll either scream or cry.

"Mate…"                                                                         

"It's stupid. I'm stupid. I should never have—" He cuts off, swallowing hard, squeezing his eyes shut. It shouldn't still hurt this bad. "I shouldn't have come."

"But you did."

"Yeah," he gasps.

Oscar's silent for a long moment, looking out the window while Lando struggles to compose himself, knowing that if he reaches out to offer comfort it won't be appreciated. "It's a small town, yeah?"

"Yeah." He scrubs at his eyes with the heels of his palms, wishing his heartbreak had been the type that was easily numbed. He's tried everything. Alcohol, exercise, random women, even random men when he was drunk enough. Therapy, antidepressants, meditation. Nothing's worked. He can get so drunk he almost forgets, he almost loses himself, but just when he's thinking this is it, it all comes rushing back and he snatches his body away from whoever he's with. Never much further than getting his belt unbuckled before he's rushing away with a shit apology and an empty ache in his chest.

It's been over for a year and it's still fucking him up. He can't do what the therapist suggested – seek forgiveness for your part in a wrongdoing – because Charles laughed in his face.

"You? Slept with her? Impossible. She has standards."

Fucking bastard.

"Switch, I'll drive."

Lando doesn't argue even though Oscar hates driving in America. Nothing rattles his unbothered friend. But six lanes of Americans driving like – Oscar's words – fucking cunts? His friend is ready to commit crimes. Once in the passenger seat he sighs, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. It isn't long before he feels the car stop and he sits up, not looking to see where they are. "I'll call the charter for a flight out."

"Not yet," Oscar tells him. "Wait here a minute."

Confused, he rubs at his eyes, trying to keep more tears from forming. He just wants to go. Best to resign himself to being lonely. Alone. Maybe he'll be lucky and time will eventually heal the pain, even just a little, and he can— Grunting as he looks out the windshield, he watches Oscar walk into a small brick building.

"Really, Osco, not the time to be a fucking nerd," he sighs, leaning back and throwing an arm over his face. Why the fuck are they at a library?

It's not long before Oscar's back, getting behind the wheel and humming softly to himself. He doesn't speak, still humming while he buckles his seatbelt and drops a folded sheet of paper in Lando's lap.

"What?" Lando sighs, dropping his arm and looking at the paper. Even more confused, he picks it up. "What is it?"

"Mate."

Sniffling, he rubs at his nose then unfolds the paper. At first he's still confused, reading the address written in Oscar's handwriting. "Is… Is that hers?"

"Yeah."

"H…" He sucks in a breath. "How."

"She said she wanted to go back to school and work in a library, right? They've got a display board up of recent things that have happened, and there was a picture of her with a bunch of kids. A paragraph about how she's working here as a research assistant while pursuing her master's in library science."

Lando rubs at his temples, knowing his friend wants to tell the whole story but longing to tell him to get to the fucking point. And also a little touched that Oscar remembered the detail about you wanting to work with books.

"Asked the lady at the desk about her, said I was an old friend driving through. She's off today, won't be back until Monday. When she went to help someone I nicked the notebook by the computer and it has everyone's address." Oscar smiles, obviously proud of his ability to spy without being caught. "Nice lady. Said y/n's an asset."

Lando nods, typing the address into the search bar of the map on his phone. "It's…"

"Close." Oscar reaches for the in-dash screen, pausing just before his fingers touch it.

He could tell him not to. Could shake his head. And Oscar would nod, they would call the charter, and be on a flight back to Monaco by dinnertime.

And he would spend the rest of his life trying to forget.

He swallows, barely nodding his head.

"…we'll shift our focus to the surge of trade throughout the Mediterranean, but first—"

You look away from your laptop screen when there's a knock on the door. The professor drones on and you mute him, standing from the couch and setting the laptop aside to go see who it is. You're not expecting anyone, and the neighborhood isn't the type where neighbors drop in uninvited. Peeking through the window, you furrow your brow at the unfamiliar car parked on the street. Leaving the chain attached you open the front door just a bit.

And nearly hit your knees in shock.

He's looking down at the stoop, at his impossibly white sneakers, and his hood's pulled up over his head but you know it's him.

"Lando," you breathe.

His head lifts and his eyes take your breath away. They're just as you remember them, the jade hue that could see straight through to your soul.

He looks sad. Worried.

Scared.

"H-hey," he says, his voice cracking slightly.

You can only stare at him, unable to really believe he's on your front stoop. The light breeze picks up and you're slammed by the aroma of his cologne. It's so faint you know you shouldn't be able to smell it but you do and a wave of memories rush through you with it.

"Hey, nice to meet you." He smiled, an easygoing aura radiating from him as he stepped over and held out his hand. "I'm Lando."

"Hi, I'm y/n."

You press your lips together and swallow hard. "Hey," you murmur.

You, walking along pit lane with Charles and on the phone with your best friend. "So I finally got the game installed. I need to upgrade, the lag is so bad I die before I can get a shot in."

"Really? What are the specs?" Lando asked suddenly, appearing at your side.

"Call you back," you laughed into the phone, putting it away and smiling at him. He was always popping up to talk to you, had quickly become one of your favorite people on the grid. He never seemed too busy to at least stop and speak to you, that easy smile putting you at ease.

Lando exhales, his shoulders rounding. His eyes are almost mournful, the light of memory flashing and you wonder if he's reminiscing, too.

"Sorry 'bout the mess," he muttered, picking up a helmet and looking around, finally placing it two inches from where it had been.

"It's fine," you promised with a laugh. "You live here, it shouldn't look like a magazine spread."

"Yeah? I guess. Anyway, here you go, have a seat."

You swallow again, the sound of his hand slapping his computer chair echoing in your mind. Easing the door to a little, you reach up to unlatch the chain and take a step back as you pull the door open further. "What are… How did you know where to find me?"

"I love it here, really, but I miss the space. I miss having a little patch of grass where I can plant flowers and not have people squeezing in around me," you said, sliding the tarts from the baking sheet to the cooling rack.

"I get it. But I mean, you could talk to Charles, right? See about getting a place with a garden?" Lando looked at the tarts with a longing sigh.

"At least let it cool," you teased. Leaning against the counter, you shook your head. "No, this is his home. He'll never want to move out of Monaco."

"I like it here, but it's not home." He shrugged, pinching off a piece of the pastry shell for a taste, grinning when you slapped at his hand. "There's a villa up the coast a ways – it has space and nice gardens. I've thought about getting it, but seems a waste just for me."

"You could get a dog."

He's standing in your tiny living room. He looks so out of place and yet he fits and you think you're just in shock. Pushing back his hood, he fiddles with his hair, the nervous gesture you remember him doing. "Osco… He's with me – I mean, in the car," he says, gesturing over his shoulder with his thumb. "Man's a fucking spy I think."

"No, no, you put your hand here." His face is serious as he guides your hand to his shoulder. "Okay?"

You nodded, grateful he was willing to teach you. You knew Charles would happily pay for dancing lessons but it's embarrassing, not knowing how to waltz. And when you'd mentioned it to Lando he'd said to come by, he could show you the basics, and he'd practice with you so you wouldn't make a fool of yourself at the prince's gala. His hand moved to rest at your waist, warm and strong, and you felt a glimmer of heat as his other hand took yours, holding it up.

"We'll take it slow, yeah?" he asked softly.

He's still standing there, looking lost and scared, and all you can do is stare at him. You've seen him – on tv, online, on your phone because you hadn't been able to delete the pictures of him and every once in a while your phone likes to play a sick joke and throw you a memory that somehow always includes him. But you're struck by the slight differences since you've seen him in person. His hair is a little longer, that one curl he used to complain about dancing against his forehead. The scar from Amsterdam last year is faded, barely a line across the bridge of his nose.

He's still the most handsome man you'll ever see. He still takes your breath away. It's taking everything in you to not beg him to forgive you.

"Love it. This. Us."

You suck in a breath and hold it. "How are you?" you ask, because really what else can you say?

I'm so sorry I never should have let us end like we did, even if we were hopeless from the start. I still love you, I'll never stop loving you. I'll never stop needing you. I'm miserable.

"I'm fucking miserable, y/n." His voice is strained. "I-I came months ago. At Christmas."

You feel your eyes widen at the same time you watch his do the same. Suddenly recalling a strange car parked just down the street from your parents' home that had sped off. At the time your first thought had been that it was someone up to no good. "You did?" you whisper.

"I remembered where your mum and dad live, and I… I hoped I'd see you."

He would have, if he'd waited five minutes. But you remember the texts you'd sent that had gone unanswered. The one phone call you'd attempted two months after moving away from Monaco, at four in the morning when your dreams had been him.

They still are.

Lando takes a step forward. "Y/n…"

"Why are you here?"

"I miss you," he says, his voice still strained. Like he's just finished crying. Or is about to. And you don't want to see him cry. It'll break your unhealed heart. "Are… Are you okay?"

You jump slightly when there's a soft tap at the front door. It's still hanging open – way to go, just invite burglars and murders in – and both you and Lando spin to look.

Oscar holds both hands up. "Sorry to interrupt. Um… Hi."

"Hey," you squeak. God, you can't do this. You can't have this awkward, painful conversation in front of Oscar. "C-come on in," you say, dragging a hand through your hair.

"I, um, just…" His cheeks darken as he closes the door and he clears his throat. "Could I use the restroom?"

Blinking at him, you feel Lando step closer to you. With a small nod you point in the direction of the bathroom, backing away from Lando as soon as Oscar's back is turned.

"Y/n… Please—"

"What?" you ask. It's as though seeing Oscar threw some common sense into you. "I'm in the middle of a class."

"For the library thing, yeah?" One corner of his mouth lifts.

"How did you—" You glance towards the bathroom. "Maybe he is a fucking spy."

"He was trying to help me."

"He always has," you whisper.

"He's kept me from going completely insane this past year. I… I owe him a lot," he murmurs, and he's picking at his own fingers.

You're reaching to stop him and jerk your hand back. He's not yours to comfort. He never was. "He flew all the way here with you when he could be home with his girlfriend. I think you owe him at least a new car."

"She's pregnant."

You gasp. "Really? I should—" But you can't. You haven't been able to call her, either. You text sometimes, but your friendship with the other girlfriends will never be the same. She hasn't mentioned being pregnant and you know it's because you're not in the 'club' anymore. It's a wildly different life you lead now. And you're happy. You're miserable and lonely but you fake the happiness for the sake of your family and coworkers. "I'm happy for them."

"God, I hate this," he whispers, and he rubs his hands over his face.

Then he's reaching for you. Almost catches you, but you jerk away.

"Y/n—"

"You have no right, Lando. What, did you think I'd just fall right back into your arms?" you ask, voice trembling because you want to. You want to be hugged as only Lando's ever been able to do. But you can't let yourself, remembering all too well how your life had been destroyed because you wanted a hug once.

"I didn't – I miss you," he whispers. "It's been a year and I still can't wash the coffee cup you left on the counter because it's… It's still got your lipstick."

Your heart twists, thinking of the hoodie tucked in the very back of your closet. The one you were going to throw out two weeks ago but couldn't after you opened the bag and could still smell him. Then you firm your resolve. You can't. "I'm not stupid. I've seen how not lonely you've been—"

"I was trying to forget you!"

"Then try harder. Doomed, remember?" You'll never forget him saying that, or how your heart had fractured.

"I couldn't even do it, because I felt like I was cheating on you!" The words ring out and he looks shocked, face twisting. "That's how fucked up you got me."

That rankles you, and you don't know if it's because he tried or because he's blaming the failure on you. "It's not my fault you can't get off," you snap.

"I can only get off if I'm thinking about you," he snaps back.

Your cheeks flame, your broken mind immediately conjuring up the image of him in the shower or on his bed. And you would swear you can hear his breathy moans. You bite your tongue hard to keep from confessing that when you try to make yourself cum you have to think about him, too. "Lando—"

"Tell me you're happy," he whispers. "Say it and I'll go."

"Happiness is subjective," you say, because despite everything you can't lie to him.

There's a creak or a sigh. Both your heads swivel and though you've only ever respected and admired Oscar, you aren't happy to see him. He doesn't speak, turning and studying the notes and photos on the refrigerator door.

Your heart lurches, knowing he'll see the snapshot of Lando.

"Y/n."

You snap your eyes back to him, forgetting all about his friend when you look into his eyes.

"Can we just… Talk. Please."

"I would have talked a year ago. When you left me on read. I would have talked a few months later, when I called you and you didn't answer." The worst part had been that his voicemail greeting was the automated voice.

"I was hurting! I was trying to get over you! I wanted to hurt you—"

You gasp, the admission a knife in your chest. You deserve it, you know that, and so much worse, but it stings.

"Like you hurt me."

"What was I supposed to do, Lando? We were doomed. You said so yourself."

"I'd rather be doomed with you than broken without you."

You must leave. Despite how long it's been you're not strong enough. You doubt you'll ever be strong enough to resist him. About to step away, you remember it's your house. Small and cramped and yeah the neighbors are too close for your liking. But it's yours. "Go, Lando. Live. Be happy without me."

"Like you're happy here?" he asks, throwing his hands out. "Rotting away in a fucking library?"

"I was happy until you decided to show up." Your voice cracks and you try to hold it back but a sob escapes as you back away, shoulder banging the doorway of your bedroom.

"Don't lie to me, y/n," he pleads, taking a step closer and reaching out.

"Don't touch me." You shrug his hand away, trying to get out of his reach, lift a hand to slap his arm. He catches your wrist before you can and your breath sticks in your throat when he moves forward. "Lando, please, let me go—"

His lips crash against yours and you whimper. It's harsh and demanding and you struggle weakly against him, spinning as soon as his hand grabs your waist. His near feral moan vibrates through your body and in a heartbeat you're clutching at his hoodie, whining as your back meets the closing door.

"Lan," you whimper, shaking your head as you break the kiss. "Please, we—"

"One more," he gasps. He lets go of your wrist, his hand trembling as it cups your cheek. "God, please… I just need you one more time. Everything's wrong without you." His lips brush over yours, and you feel your own inconsolable longing reflected back at you. "Y-you were everything, let me feel everything again."

His kiss tastes like tears and stifled rage. It grows harsher, his body crowding yours tighter against the door. It's everything you've wanted for over a year and yet not enough and you whisper his name into the breaths you share, knowing you'll feel the worst pain imaginable when it's over and you're alone all over again. The pull of him is too strong though and you want to feel everything again too, want just one morsel of what you once had.

"Wish I could hate you," he groans, voice as rough as his fingers in your hair, so tight your scalp stings. You whimper with both delight and pain and he answers with a moan, snatching back, breathing uneven as his hand slides from your hair and there's a frantic, familiar scrambling to remove his hoodie and your shirt. His moan as his fingers brush your bare skin ends in a whine, tracing patterns over your chest. "Wanted to hate you. Wanted to forget you but you—" His mouth is on yours again, his hands clutching at your breasts. Your nipples are stiff before his thumbs brush them and he groans deep in his chest, pressing his thigh between yours.

He pinches and squeezes, lips almost cruel on yours, and you can feel the rage he feels. Know you deserve every bit of it for everything you'd done, and more than he's capable of showing. Tears sting your eyes. It's beautiful, crushingly so, because you know this will be the last time. You want to rush ahead, to feel the incandescence only his lovemaking had created inside you and you also want to slow down, to memorize every breath, every touch, so you can cling to the memories for the rest of your lonely existence.

"Y/n…" It's a low, drawn-out moan, lips parted over yours.

"Please," you gasp. You're practically squirming with need, and the hate for you that he can't muster is there, coming from yourself. "Need it, Lan…"

You feel his pained grimace, taste the ache and the agony on his tongue. "Need you," he whimpers.

"Us," you whisper, squeezing your eyes shut as your tears fall.

"Us," he barely sighs. One hand slips down, the rage still there as it pushes between your bodies and into your panties, cupping you and squeezing. His ragged groan echoes in your ears and it shreds the last sliver of your sanity.

You tip your head forward, initiating the next kiss, loosening your grip on his biceps and letting your hands smooth over his warm skin. Breathing in and holding it so you can taste and smell and feel him all at once. Your fingers trace the necklace at his neck and more tears fall – it's the one you gave him two years ago. Rough, his fingers rub along your slit, his other hand thudding against the door then cupping your throat. His lips still on yours, whining when you brush the tears from his cheeks.

He leans into you, fingers rubbing steadily, teeth catching your bottom lip as they grow slick. "Did you…" He moans when one finger dips, your hips tilt forward, pushing yourself against his hand. "You miss me, baby?"

"Yes." You're gripping his wrist, clutching his hair.

"This?" His fingers move in slow circles over your clit. "…Or me?"

"You, Lando, you," you whimper, head falling back, the curling heat so sudden you fear you'll cum already.

"Have you let anyone fuck you?" he asks, still rubbing your clit agonizingly slowly.

"N-no." Your cheeks burn, hating yourself for feeling a spike of desire at his crude question. Pulse racing, you can hear the blood rushing in your ears, and his low hum as he leans closer, lips at your ear now. Your pussy clenches, gushing and you let out a shaky moan, able to hear the slick sounds of his fingers working your clit. Your hand wraps around his wrist and he chuckles.

"You need to cum? Hm?" He moans right in your ear and your pulse thunders beneath his fingertips at your throat. "You're gonna cum that quick?"

"I—" You whine, clutching tighter at his wrist. "It feels good, Lando, I can't…"

"It's gonna feel better when I'm fucking you," he whispers.

"Yes," you hiss, head falling back with a thump. "Please!"

"You want it, baby?" There's a slant to his cooed words and you wonder if he does hate you after all. "Want me to fuck you?" His lips tug at your earlobe, smirking while you whine. Slipping his fingers down, he dips them inside you, echoing your moan as you immediately squeeze around them. "Oh I missed your pussy so much… That's why I couldn't fuck 'em, you know?"

"Lando, please." God, you're gonna cum. It's sick and it's twisted now, but he knows exactly how to play your body.

"Cuz I know how good this feels…" He sucks on your earlobe, fingers curling tightly, exhaling harshly as they brush your spot and your hips jerk. "Gonna feel so good when you cum on my dick."

"Yes, baby, I need that," you whimper, digging your nails into his wrist. You need it more now than you did a year ago, your body buzzing. "God, please… Let me cum for you, Lan – Fuck!"

"Cum on my fingers, baby," he hisses, stroking your spot so hard it hurt. But his words and the reminder that he knew exactly what to say and do to you send you spiraling, pussy squeezing tightly around his fingers as a ragged cry ripped from your chest. "That's my girl, fuckin' cum…"

His fingers slip out and you gasp at the gush, tugging at his hair while he rubs your slit rapidly as your body tenses and trembles, panting harsh in your ear when you squirt over his fingers. When you slump back he coos, fingers strumming your clit and causing your back to arch.

He snatches his fingers from your clit with a low growl, and your lips meet in a fierce kiss, hands meeting at his belt. You wriggle between him and the door, frantic and scrambling to remove your panties, gasping against his tongue as he kicks his jeans away and then he's jerking your hips towards him, pressing his face to the side of your neck and your breath catches in the back of your throat, hooking your legs over his hips. His cock, hard and straining, glides along your slit and his teeth sink into your skin as his hips surge forward.

"Lando," you cry out, eyes rolling back.

"Make me hate you. Please, fuck, I need to hate you."

"How?" It's a broken sob.

"You can't." He presses his forehead to yours, hands so tight on your hips you know you'll feel the bruises forever. "You can't, y/n…"

"I'm sorry," you whisper, lifting trembling hands to cup his face. "I'm so sorry, Lando."

He exhales slow, releasing your hips and sliding his hands up, keeping the rest of his body still. It feels as though he's re-memorizing your body, closing his eyes while his palms sweep over your shoulders and up to your wrists. There's a prolonged moment as his shaky breaths fan over your lips, then his eyes open.

They're luminous. Shining with emotion. You can't breathe, can't even blink, can only just barely feel him shift, reminding you he's buried deep.

"I miss you so much." His hands are gentle, smoothing your hair back and cradling your cheeks. There's the reverence you remember.

"I'm right here." Your vision blurs and his lips are on yours, tender where they'd been rough before. "I'm right here, baby."

"Can't lose you," he mumbles, shifting again, his arm winding around your waist and holding you close. "Can't lose you again, baby, okay?"

You whisper his name, unsure of what to say. You're not sure you understand. "Lan?"

He kisses you again, turning and you're floating even after he lays you down on the bed. Each touch is gentle, like he's afraid of hurting you.

As though you're a dream he doesn't want to wake up from.

"I love you," he says. And for the first time since he stepped into the house it's the voice you remember. Clear and bright, warm and your favorite sound. It's him, the real Lando that you know and love.

Your lips part to say the words back – of course you love him, you've loved him since the beginning, before he was yours to really love. Before he was your forbidden secret.

"I bought the villa." Even he looks surprise as the words pass his lips and there's a small smile on his face and you want to laugh at the absurdity of the moment. He's talking as though he isn't inside you, as though he didn't just make you cum against your bedroom door.

"You did?" you ask softly, fingers following the freckles splattered over his cheek and neck. "When?"

Lando shifts, gently guiding your legs around his waist. The friction causes your toes to curl and he pauses, stuttering out a whimper. "F-first of the – god – year."

"Do you like it?" You're asking about the villa, remembering the photos he'd showed you on the realty website.

"Fuck I love it so much," he moans. His hands squeeze your thighs and he lifts himself up slightly, licking his lips slow. Eyes still luminous, he looks down at you and you can feel he's holding his breath.

"I love you," you whisper. "I love you so much."

And it's like that's all he needed. He leans down, kissing you deeply, his hands finding yours and holding on, fingers tangled as he rolls his hips slow. His thrusts are slow and deep, echoing moans and gasps the soundtrack to the passion. There's no subdued rage or cruelty anymore, and you whisper apologies between kisses, needing him to know how sorry you are for hurting him.

"I'm so sorry… I love you… Love us." You whisper the words over and over, tasting the salt of his fresh tears and yours.

Clasped hands tighten, knuckles turning white. "Be mine," he murmurs, his tremble rippling through you. When you arch, crying out yes, he dips his head, pressing sweet kisses over your heart.

"I always was," you promise, eyes locked with his as the passion crests and you cum with a scream of his name. It's blinding, deafening, and all you know that is real is the tight grip of his hands.

"Get your degree," he murmurs an eternity later. You nod, heart racing, the ache that has been in your chest for so long begins to fade. "Move in the villa with me."

"What if it's doomed?" you whisper, fear slicing through the elation. "What if we fail?"

"W-what if we win?" His breath stutters harshly, hands squeezing yours even tighter. "What if it's sacred?"

He kisses you, both of you trembling as his thrusts quicken and you feel his muscles grow tight. Your name is a soft, pleading cry and you feel the heat of him filling you, hips straining and pushing you deeper into the mattress.

Another lifetime passes with delicate kisses. Tender whispers. Praise and love are murmured between you, and you feel the eternal hope springing back when he offers forgiveness.

If it's all a dream you never want to wake. You'll gladly sleep until your final breath or even hasten your end so you never have to know cold reality again. But it's not a dream when you wake up, it's real and he's real, and the love in his eyes is still there.

The peace, the dreamy bubble formed around you, is burst by a gentle tapping at the bedroom door.

"Um… You good, mate?" Oscar calls out, his voice amused and embarrassed.

Lando giggles against your shoulder, kissing your skin before lifting his head. "Are we good, love?"

"Can we get a dog?" you ask suddenly.

"Just one?"

You nod. "To keep me company while I'm studying."

Lando grins, dipping to kiss you quickly. "All good, Osco!"

"Thank fucking christ," Oscar groans..

a.n.: originally this was close to 9k, but I cut a full scene from the end, because these two idiots deserve a happy, hopeful ending. I hope you enjoyed. housekeeping: if you'd like to be added to my taglist(s), please fill out this form.

taglist: @driverlando | @leodette | @trisharee | @manicpixiemom | @littlegrapejuice | @mochimommy2002 |

[moolovesyou]

absent jealousy | angus tully x reader

a/n: writing this while watching diary of wimpy kid hell yeah. thank you to @xfrankiesmithx-blog for requesting!!!!!! i hope this is what you wanted because i think i got carried away lol. i am too much of a sucker for casual angst and scene building.

s: your relationship with angus is anything but serious, until jealousy forces you both to face reality.

w: cursing, suggestiveness, angst (absent parent)

wc: 3k.

Winter break was supposed to be a time to relax. A time to have fun. And maybe, just maybe, a time to tolerate family. My plans were simple. My days were going to be spent on the Florida beaches with piña coladas and poolside napping. This was a yearly tradition since the 6th grade.

Unfortunately, those hot and sandy dreams were crushed when my dad phoned me at Wickline Academy.

"What the fuck, dad?" I slammed my hand onto the wall beside the telephone.

"Language!" He huffed from the other end. A crackly sigh could be heard. "Listen, we just can't afford it. We need the money to keep you enrolled next semester."

My eyes watered. I blinked rapidly to prevent any tears from spilling out.

"I'm sorry, honey." My dad spoke with sorrow. "Money is tight ever since-. . . your mom. . ."

The call went silent.

It had been 3 months and he still couldn't say it. It was embarrassing for both of us to admit.

Left us. Since she disappeared off the face of the earth with my dad's wallet and my allowance. For the last 3 months, anger has just been festering within me like a cauldron of rage.

Now, I had to spend Christmas alone. If that wasn't already bad enough, it turned out the entirety of Wickline had to be fumigated due to a nasty roach problem. This landed every holdover from Wickline into the lion's den that is Barton.

Hunham stood in front of all 9 of us. 5 boys from Barton and 4 girls from Wickline. Much to my surprise, he was there.

Angus Tully.

We had met 2 years ago at a winter fundraiser. I had been serving drinks for the patrons when Angus waltzed over. From then on, the nature of our relationship was afflicted by our teenage hormones. Every time we saw each other it was a display of lingering eye contact and flirty comments. I never knew if he was serious.

"There will be no fornication, no hanky-panky, no coupling. So help me god, if any of you even stand one inch too close I will make you sleep in the snow." Hunham's voice boomed. He leaned forward, scooching a girl and a boy away from each other.

Angus and I locked eyes for a moment. He furrowed his brows for a second, as if he was confused at my presence. Then he smirked.

"Now, it is time to fuel your young brains with knowledge!"

A chorus of groans erupted from us.

We sat separated. Boys on one side of the study room, girls on the other. Hunham sat in the corner overlooking all of us. A lack of interest fogged all of our minds. Everyone was kind of just looking at their books instead of actually reading.

I glanced up. From across the room, a boy with long dirty blond hair waved at me. I think his name was Jason. He was pretty cute. I waved back, a small smile playing on my lips.

A curly-headed Angus turned around, head snapping between me and Jason. He rolled his eyes and shook his head.

Later on, we got to spend some time away from studying. We had all grouped together, walking through the snowy woods. Two of the other girls had cozied up next to Kountz. I was collecting fallen pinecones from the ground.

"What brings you here? Kingdom banished their princess?" A voice chuckled from behind. My head flicked around. Angus leaned against a tree, wielding a branch as a sword.

I scoffed, walking up to him. He gazed down at me in amusement. A grin covered his face. A grin that royally pissed me off. I shouldn't have taken it so seriously; but the rage inside of me, which was previously set to simmer, was now boiling; and Angus Tully was stirring the pot.

"I could ask the same about you, asshole. Did your family wish upon a star for you to go away?" I spat. His amusement shrunk, turning into a nasty frown.

"Hey, guys."

The both of us turned around, facing a chirpy and oblivious Jason. He flashed a smile at me.

"Hi!" I shoved Angus with my shoulder as I trudged through the snow to the jock. "Jason, is it?"

From behind, in a small mocking tone, Angus whispered, "Jason, is it?" He didn't know when to stop, did he?

"Do you want to play football with me?" Jason patted the ball in his hand, handing it out to me.

"Sure!" I nodded excitedly.

"Do you even know how to play?" Angus muttered. He had a permanent sour scowl on his face.

"You don't have to project your inabilities, Tully." I flashed a fake smile. "Or, would you like to join us?"

He crossed his arms. His nose was red, making him look like an extremely unhappy Rudolph.

"I'm fine." He mumbled, turning his back to us and walking over to the younger boys.

Needless to say, I was confused. We would have playful fights, yeah. But, this wasn't playful at all. I almost felt bad for him. Jealous, much?

We weren't official. I wasn't even sure if he knew we had a thing going on. Either way, it just wasn't time for anything serious. Jason was sweet and dumb enough for a quick dose of validation.

For the rest of the time spent outside, Jason and I passed the football around. He was fun and extremely hot. I mean, he was the type of attractive that turned Wickline Academy into a slip n' slide. But other than that, we had nothing in common. He was this flamboyant display of brawn and I found spelling bees fun. Every so often, I'd catch Angus staring at us from the other side of the courtyard.

Soon enough, Hunham called everyone in for dinner. We were actually allowed to sit beside each other. It felt like an awkward family dinner. Except we weren't family. So, it was more awkward.

Jason was already sat, so I decided to take my opportunity and sit beside him. He was chatting it up with one of the other Wickline girls. I huffed, slouching in my seat.

"Is this seat taken?" A familiar deep voice spoke from my left. Oh, great.

Angus hunched down, pulling the chair out and sitting himself down. He had a mischievous smirk plastered on his face. He leaned close to me, an uninterested look on his face. I could feel his breath on my cheek.

"What's wrong, princess?" He licked his chapped lips.

"You're here. I'd rather have a block of coal." I grunted.

Angus narrowed his eyes at me, before fluttering his lashes. He held his hand to his heart, "You flatter me."

I stuck my tongue out at him, toying with the napkin in front of me.

"So, Jason? Really?" He whispered inconspicuously. Mary set plates on the table, earning a small 'thank you' from him. "Didn't know you could stoop so low."

"I liked you, didn't I."

"Liked?"

His brows raised, a shocked expression on his face. All his wittiness had vanished in the blip of a moment. He averted his gaze to his plate of food. His curls hung over his face.

Of course, I didn't mean that. But he didn't know that.

I opened my mouth to speak, but at that point Hunham slammed the table for something Kountz had said.

For the rest of the dinner I kept my eye on him, he would poke and nudge his food with his fork but never actually take a bite. We didn't talk for the rest of the day.

The following morning everyone joined Jason on his family trip. My dad wasn't too keen on the idea of me spending an entire holiday with boys.

In the end, it was me and Tully. It was weird between us. The days were quiet. There were many times that I tried to apologize, but he would always run off or turn away every moment I tried.

I was sat in the kitchen with Mary Lamb, helping her bake brownies for a Christmas party. I mixed the dry ingredients, gritting my teeth as I thought about everything. It felt like my world was crumbling.

"You alright there, sweetie?" Mary questioned. She was cutting potatoes for the next day's dinner.

I groaned.

"Everything sucks. This wasn't where I planned to be. I didn't plan to be here today or to be in this stupid black hole that my life is." I whisked angrily. Some of the mixture spilled over the side of the bowl.

"Some of this gotta' do with that Tully boy?" She whistled. "I've seen the way y'all act."

I blushed slightly, "Yeah. I guess-. . . I said something i didn't mean. But, I don't get why he's so upset. We don't have anything real going on between us."

"Do you want something real?" Mary put down her knife. I poured the mix into a pan.

Do I want something real with Angus? In the last two years, I hardly learned much about him. We had covered up any real connection under flashy and casually insulting romance.

What had I learned about him? He is Angus. He's a pinch too loud in a quiet room. He walks like a newborn giraffe. He manages to piss everyone off in a 2 mile radius.

But with every taunt and quip he'd deliver, there was that toothy grin accompanying it. There were small moments where he would help the underclassmen with their assignments; and he always found time to find me.

I hadn't even given him a chance of thought. Dread filled my heart, overflowing into my veins like a dam had just broke.

"Would he even want anything?" I leaned on the palm of my hand, glancing outside the window. The snowfall landed softly on the windowsill. It reminded me of the first time he walked up to me.

.

.

.

"Is there any alcohol in this?" A boy with shaggy brown hair pointed. His pants were too short, as if he had just had a growth spurt overnight.

"Does fruit punch fuel your system?" I offered a cup. My nails were coated with pastel polish.

"I'm more of an apple juice kinda guy." He tugged on his loose tie. "I'm Angus."

"I'm Y/N".

"Do you wanna smoke a cigarette behind the bleachers?" The kid asked.

"I don't have a jacket." We looked outside the window. It was evening. The snowfall was heavy. We could hardly see past the courtyard.

"Take mine." He shrugged his jacket off, holding it in his trembling hands. His brown eyes were completely widened in awe. I took the jacket from his grasp, putting it on.

"Thanks Angus!" I chirped. "Come on, before they notice we're gone."

I grabbed his hand, interlocking our fingers. His hands were cold and clammy. But, funnily enough, so were mine. We ran outside, hiding under the bleachers as we joked about our classmates.

.

.

.

"Baby, all I know is he's going through as much as you are right now. You'll never know unless you try."

Mary's voice lingered in my head as I got dressed for the party. She was right. I had lost so much control in the last 3 months of my life. I was not going to let this pass me by. I was going to spite my way into Angus's heart.

In the car, Angus fought to sit in the passenger seat. Ultimately, Mary glared at him with such authority he cowered and clamored into the backseat with me. Instantly, he folded his arms and turned to look out the window.

Okay, this is fine? This is fine. I'll just sneak him aside at the party and fix this. I didn't want Hunham and Mary awkwardly listening in while I confessed my undying admiration for him.

We were greeted at the door by Miss Crane. She welcomed us happily. I looked around. This place was packed. Christmas music flew around the house like a jolly paper airplane.

"Y/N, can you take these to the kitchen please?" Miss Crane gave me the brownies we had baked. I glanced at Angus, who already looked out of place.

"Sure!" My lips pressed together into a thin line. I hurried over, having to pause for houseguests to step aside and move out of the way. This place was a goddamn maze. My forearms grew sore as I searched aimlessly. Then, like a glowing light at the end of the tunnel, I saw the kitchen. I practically threw the platter onto the counter.

When I returned back to the door, everyone was gone. How hard could it be to find a 6-foot tall teenager? I scooched and muttered 'excuse me' way too many times to count. After some asking around, I had made my way to the basement.

There were kids coloring and gluing crafts on a big round table. Others run around with plastic wands and swords. I was nearly stabbed by one of the children. Then I saw something I wish I didn't have to see.

Angus and a brunette locked lips in a corner of the basement. I completely and utterly froze. The dread that had consumed me earlier had solidified and left me still like a heartbroken fossil. They leaned away, and the girl caught my eye.

"Oh, hello! I'll be right with you!" She chirped. She had a blush on her face. My blood boiled. Angus's head whipped around. His eyes widened. He analyzed my face for any sign of a reaction. I closed my eyes and took a composing breath. I whipped around, stepping back up the stairs.

"Y/N! Give me one second." His steps boomed up the stairs behind me. "Come on, slow down."

I stepped out into the cold night. I tried to slam the front door behind me, but Angus shoved his foot between the gap.

"Ow. Really?" He mumbled. He grabbed my arms and stopped me in my tracks. "Y/N. Please."

I kept my back to him. I couldn't look at him. Would his face have that same blush she had? Would his lips be pink? Would he look happy? He sighed, jogging in front of me. He towered over me, a concerned look on his face. He looked almost devastated.

"What's wrong?" He mumbled.

"What's wrong?" I repeated, raising my voice. "You were sucking the life force out of that girl!"

"You're overreacting." He flung his arms in the air. Angus chewed on his lip anxiously. "Plus, last time I checked, why should you care? You were getting real cozy with Jason."

"That wasn't anything." I scoffed.

"Were we anything?" He whispered. His eyes had reddened, tears threatening to stream out.

"What?"

"You said you liked me." Angus whimpered. "What happened? Did I do something?"

"No." I blurted. "You did nothing. I-. . . I was just angry, Angus. I didn't mean that."

He stayed silent. The snow got caught on his curls. He looked more gorgeous than ever. It felt like we had snuck out to the bleachers all over again. Fuck it.

"Jesus, Angus. We have to stop being complete fucking idiots." I covered my face and groaned into my hands. "It's not a surprise that I like you. You think I would still be talking to you after 2 years if I didn't absolutely fucking adore you? I'm angry that everyone else is leaving me and I don't want you to either. I don't want you to disappear. I need you. I've needed you ever since we smoked together for the first time. I was just too fucking dumb to realize it. I need you to realize it too. I need you to realize Jason has nothing to offer me. "

His eyebrows raised slowly. I stared at him with wide eyes as I caught my breath.

"Was that weird? I'm sorry if-"

Angus cut me off by crashing his lips into mine. He had cold lips, but the feeling it gave me sent warmth throughout my body. His arms wrapped around my waist as we stumbled backwards. My back thudded against a wall as Angus pushed closer against me. I tangled my fingers into his hair, pulling the strands of hair slightly for any sense of stimulation. His chest pressed against mine and I could hardly breathe. But neither of us pulled away. He pushed his tongue into my mouth with fervor. Little grunts escaped his lips.

The slam of the front door pushed us away from each other. A guest waved goodbye to whoever was on the porch, oblivious to our raunchy escapade. Our gazes flicked back to each other. We both had that 'deer in headlights' look. The two of us burst into laughter. Angus threw his head back cackling.

"Seems like you had a practice." I remarked.

"Shut up."

"Too soon?" I grimaced. He nodded. His hands traveled up to my face, caressing my cheeks. His fingers were crusted over with a green pigment. "Why the fuck are your fingers covered in paint?"

"Oh shit, sorry. Fingerpainting." Angus pulled his hands back, stuffing them into his pockets. His lips were red and slightly wet.

"I have one question." I prodded.

"Hm?"

"Do you like me?"

Angus rolled his eyes, "I just sucked the complete life force out of you. When are you gonna stop being a complete idiot and realize I like you?"

"Touché." I smiled. A heartwarming smile covered his face. He leaned forward, planting a small peck on my forehead, before resting his chin on my head.

I wrapped my arms around his torso. Once again, that familiar memory popped into my head. I felt the same warmth from 2 years ago. This time it wasn't a cigarette. It was Angus. And suddenly it all felt worth it. Every bit of anger. Every bit of sass. Every bit of jealousy.

"So, are you gonna kiss me some more or do I need to get you a brain for Christmas, scarecrow?"

"So needy, princess."

[temporarywelcome]

12 Fics of Christmas Day 2 - Tate Langdon

"Gingerbread Men"

Words: 1.4k

Summary: Being a ghost in the house sucks, reader missing her family this Chrismas season. Tate takes it upon himself to make her feel better.

A/N: sorry I wrote this in one sitting in between class breaks rip. Also let's pretend Tate didn't do the freaky deaky with Vivian. And he sees Violet as a friend, nothing more.

____

When Tate first saw her, he was incredibly infatuated. 

He followed her throughout the house, refusing to let her see him for the first few days. Just quietly admiring her and her beauty. 

Because she was beautiful. 

When he finally decided to make himself known, she was sitting in the living room, lounging with a book in her hand. He knew he looked creepy, standing in the archway and staring at her, but he couldn’t help it. 

Y/N was like a goddess. 

Yes, he looked creepy as hell, and, yes, she reacted the right way, gasping and throwing her book as hard as humanly possible at him. 

“Who the fuck are you?!” she had shouted, scrambling to her feet and grabbing a lamp in defense. 

Tate, who easily caught the book in his hands, fiddled with it nervously, “Tate. You could put the lamp down,”

“What the hell is wrong with this neighborhood?” Y/N muttered to herself, grip on the lamp tightening, “Everyone and their mama just loves to show up uninvited in my fucking house! You know how rude that is, right?”

Tate already knew his mother and sister had entered the home multiple times without consent. The difference between him and them was the fact they could easily leave. He could not.

A con of being dead. 

“Sorry,” he replied, lips forming a smile as he sauntered towards her. She raised the lamp in warning, but did not act on it, allowing him to casually sit criss-cross at her feet, “What’s your name?” Tate pretended not to know, pretended he wasn’t following her around pretty much all day every day. 

“Mother fucker get out of my house!” she exclaimed. This guy… What the fuck was wrong with him?

“Relax, I just wanted to talk,” he brings his knees to his chest, trying to give off an innocent look, giving her his big puppy dog eyes, “I had to get away from home, my mom is always yelling,” he lied.

“So you decided to enter my home uninvited?” When she said it like that, yeah, he did sound weird. 

Tate shrugged, “The door was unlocked,” he replied. He had no idea if it was actually unlocked. He didn’t care. “I knocked but no one answered.”

“A sign to leave us alone, isn’t it?” she responded sarcastically. 

His grin just got bigger, dimples showing, “You’re funny,” he said, ignoring the obvious distress in her tone of voice. 

And that was how they became friends. Just friends, nothing more.

Though he was incredibly in love with her. 

So when the house finally took her from the land of the living, he felt terrible for her. He had tried his best to keep her alive and safe, but alas, the house was forever cursed. She was bound to that fate as soon as she had stepped foot into the foyer. 

Tate tried to comfort her to the best of his ability, but she was not only depressed but pissed off at him for essentially lying to her about his identity. He wasn’t Tate, the cute and sensitive neighbor who was sweet to her and just happened to suspiciously only be able to hang out in her house. No, that wasn’t him, he was Tate Langdon, mass shooter, viewed as a monster by many, and of course, a ghost. 

He tried to explain to her the nature of the house, tried to explain he was never violent, he was never murderous, till he had moved there. But Y/N was not having it. She did not care. 

And so, despite the close proximity, Tate had never felt so alone. 

Eventually, December came, and Y/N looked even more depressed than usual. She didn’t even talk to the other ghosts anymore, she simply lay curled up in some room of the house, usually changing location every day. Tate had begged one of the newer ghosts, Violet, for help, begged her to know what was making Y/N more depressed than usual. Violet had only been in the house as a ghost for a few weeks, but being close in age with Y/N and Tate, Y/N spoke to her a lot. 

“It’s Christmas time,” Violet finally explained after Tate’s pleading, “She misses her family,” 

Oh. 

Y/N was the only one in her family who had died in the house. She had died and her family could not stay there for another second, moving away. She was very close to her family, Tate couldn’t imagine how she was feeling right now. Her first Christmas alone. 

And so he had an idea. 

___

“Get your ass up,” Violet groaned, grabbing one of Y/N’s legs and tugging. 

“Fuck you!” she began to kick her legs wildly, but Violet stayed firm, dragging her ass out of the room, “What the fuck are you doing?!”

Violet rolled her eyes, “Stop fucking moving,”

“I want to be left alone!” Y/N got a kick at Violet’s gut, causing her friend to drop her leg. She crawled back to the middle of the room, curling up on the floor. 

“I’ll kill you twice,” Violet hissed, already starting to get annoyed, “Get the fuck up,”

“No,” 

The ghost pinched the bridge of her nose, sighing, “Look, Tate really wants to show you something. Can you please get the fuck up? For him? He did something for you,”

“Fuck him too,”

“Y/N,” Violet said, warning in her tone, “Please. Just for a minute,”

Finally, she huffed and sat up, “This better be good,”

Violet stretched out a hand, which Y/N took, hauled to her feet, “I think it’s very good. He worked hard on this. Like, really hard, and I don’t expect much from teenage boys.” 

“Yeah yeah yeah,” Y/N followed her down the hall, arms crossed over her chest in disinterest, “Let’s just get this over with,” they went down the steps of the stairs and to the living room. 

Y/N paused. 

The living room was decorated in reds and golds, garland and twinkle lights draped over every surface. Little Santa and snowmen figurines were placed on the table and fireplace, stockings placed. Whoever placed them had scribbled out the names with Sharpie, messly writing Y/N, Violet, and Tate on them. 

And the culprit was in the corner of the living room, messly decorating a tree with a Santa hat on. Tate turned, grinning wide, “Y/N!” he exclaimed in excitement, “Do you like it?!”

She practically melted right then and there.

Unmoving, she eyed the tree, tangled Christmas lights thrown around it, ornaments crowded into the front. It was awful, but the effort was there and so fucking adorable she was starting to tear up. 

“You did this for me?” she asked after a moment.

Tate nodded, nervously shuffling towards her, “Do you like it?” he repeated, hands at his sides, fiddling with his jeans. 

She bit her bottom lip to keep her from crying, nodding quickly, “Yes, it’s so pretty…” she threw her arms around his neck for a hug. His eyes brightened, arms snaking around her waist tightly. “Thank you, Tate,” 

An alarm dinged, and he pulled away, “Oh! Cmon cmon cmon!” she was then being dragged into the kitchen, Tate rushing to the oven, opening it.

Motherfucker baked cookies.

Tate Langdon…. Baked fucking…. Cookies?

He set the pan down on the counter, terribly cut-out gingerbread men looking back up at him, “My mom came by yesterday so I kind of begged her to get me a recipe and the ingredients,” 

That touched her even more. Tate always ignored her mother when she came to the house. But he spoke to her just so he could bake Y/N cookies?

“I was thinking we could decorate them together?” he asked hopefully, emptying a shopping bag onto the island. Different icings and piping bags bounced against the counter. 

“Told you he worked really hard,” Violet mused. 

“I remember you said you always baked gingerbread cookies with your mom,” said Tate, that same excited look not leaving his face for even a second. Holy fuck when did he become so perfect?

“We did,” Y/N replied with a soft nod, trying to suppress her urge to sob on him. It was then she noticed he was wearing an ugly Christmas sweater too. He looked so hugable. She swiped at her tearing up eyes real quick, “Lets decorate these fuckers,”

Tate’s eyes lit up, him, Violet, and the love of his life getting to work decorating the gingerbread men, giggling like children at their horrible artistry, Christmas music playing on the record player in the background.

___

Tags:

@envy-of-greed @bohnerrific69

[jessicafangirl]

Building A Mystery Chapter 3

I bring a gift. It's shorter than my norm but I have a 3rd chapter of Vampire Volkarin for you all. And oooh is there some angsty torment? Fuck yes you better believe it. And this is just the beginning.

You can read it at AO3 here

Neve Gallus had trouble sleeping.

Not as much as Lucanis of course, but his was usually self-enforced with the help of an unholy amount of coffee. Neve’s lack of sleep was her brain couldn’t shut off when it had a mystery it needed to solve. And right then her entire life had turned into a maze of them. So it was that evening after Davrin had told everyone to get some sleep she found herself failing to do so.

There was no night at the Lighthouse. It was always brightly lit and that wasn’t helpful in trying to slumber either. So instead Neve had gone back to reading missives from some of her informants who she’d reached out to regarding the mage they’d fought months ago. The battle that had led to Emmrich leaving and Rook being injured. It never added up for Neve that the mage was working alone. Someone or something had given him the push to try what he failed to do.

The reason she suspected some puppet master was the mages history. Trevaine Gaston was a mediocre mage who had for years been a low-level, black-market dealer in short-term potions for various things. Many of them didn’t have great side effects, but the desperate would try anything. Suddenly, he’s bringing back hordes of the undead using powerful blood magic and necromancy that he’d never used before? It made no sense….and it smacked of something brewing that would be worse than her preferred coffee.

Frustrated, she couldn’t piece it together yet; she’d headed outside of her room off the side of the Lighthouse’s plaza and lit a cigarette. The smoke filled her lungs and she exhaled it in a plume letting the mix of tobacco do its work. It was only a few minutes before she saw Lucanis moving quickly across the paved stones. He seemed in a hurry and…oh Maker he was drawing his sword from it’s sheath. Neve then noticed a haze of purple surrounding him.

So not Lucanis…Spite was heading somewhere very quickly with a sword.

A brilliant string of Tevinter cursing that would have made many of the sailors that frequented there blush came from her lips along with her last exhale of smoke.

Spite’s grip was strong as the demon held Emmrich against the wall. The Necromancer was impressed as well but was also annoyed and did not want this to be the image anyone else was met with upon seeing his return. Pulling from the bag of tricks he had as a Necromancer, Emmrich cast a protection spell that was made to repel tainted undead. His hope was it would have enough anti-demonic force to get the possessed man off him without hurting him too badly. Lucanis was still a friend of course.

The flash of green magic was bright and brutal. Spite let out a cry of pain and was pushed back from the force, dropping his sword and landing on the floor with a thud. Emmrich kicked the sword away. “What I am Spite is not to be trifled with.” Emmrich replied, straightening his cravat and settling his glamor back into place.

At that moment Neve appeared followed by Davrin whom she’d stopped to grab in case she needed extra muscle. The two nearly stumbled through the entrance to the hall, both stopping dead in their tracks as they came upon the scene in front of them.

Lucanis was lying on the floor, holding his head. Standing above him dressed all in black was the long missing Necromancer.

“Emmrich?” Davrin asked, his voice shocked.

Neve narrowed her eyes at the tableau. “What happened? Did, did Spite attack you?” She asked.

Emmrich sighed heavily, realizing this was not going to be the most ideal way of returning home. It was at that moment Manfred, apparently hearing the commotion came out of the doorway. “Sssurpise!!!” He hissed happily.

Davrin was making sure Spite, or more actually Lucanis, wasn’t in too bad a way as Neve stepped over to Emmrich. “Makers breath Emmrich, what happened here? Why did he attack you?” she asked him. “And besides that where the fuck have you been?” She added bluntly.

The Necromancer wasn’t quite able to meet her eyes at the moment, sighing heavily he moved from the wall, rubbing at his neck where the possessed man had been gripping him. “We don’t have to resort to that level of language, do we?” He asked her with a raised brow. “And for the first question I don’t know what got into him…other than the demon of course.”

That wasn’t quite a full truth…Emmrich hadn’t counted on the demon realizing that something had very much changed in him, and he’d not counted on him sensing it the moment he’d walked through the Eluvian. He’d only been prepared for Neve’s safeguards and the ones he himself had added that were attuned to the Fade around them. Spite was a wildcard it would appear, and he needed to figure out what he was going to do about that.

Davrin glanced over at the Necromancer, his dark eyes not kind. “Well I can hazard a guess on why he jumped you.” The Warden said. Emmrich looked at him with raised brows, wondering if something had slipped on his glamor.

The younger man’s lips thinned. “You left Rook for months. She wasn’t handling it very well, Emmrich. Lucanis watched like the rest of us while she spiraled, I can only assume Spite was watching too. And my guess is neither one of them are very happy with you.”

Each word was a well-placed shot to his heart. Emmrich looked to the floor, not able to meet their eyes.

Spite picked that moment to stir, purple glowing through half lidded eyes. “Magic…lucky…hit.” The demons voice reverberated weakly. Davrin put an arm around his shoulders, helping him to sit up. Emmrich looked nervously at the now present demon.

Spite was still reeling from the blast of magic the death mage had hit him with but he wasn’t going to stay quiet. “You…” He started, glowing eyes glaring at Emmrich, voice guttural. “You hurt Rook. You…don’t belong here…Death Magic.”

The accusation was both stinging and troubling to Emmrich. He wanted to reveal what he’d done in his own time in his own way. Spite was putting that at risk and this guard dog mentality was just as troubling to the Necromancer. Mystery was his, not this base demons to protect. His jaw tightened as he kept his responses to himself, green eyes darkening as the glamor reacted to the emotions running through him.

Davrin could tell this was going to be a fun time for everyone. “Spite, we need to stand you up okay…just work with me alright?” The Warden stood, helping the still recovering demon to do the same.

“Emmrich…you’ve got some explaining to do.” Neve said. Emmrich’s gaze glanced over at her. “Have you…have you talked to Rook?”

He sighed, his gloved fingers flexing. “Seen her yes, talked to her…no.” He met Neve’s brown eyes hesitantly. “She was asleep when I arrived. I saw her wounds…I…healed some of them while she slumbered but let her rest. I could tell she needed it.”

The detective placed a hand on her hip in a gesture Emmrich knew meant she had some words for him, and they wouldn’t be kind. “You have no idea what she’s been through since you left, what she’s been like. I don’t think she cared if she lived or died Emmrich. I’ve never seen her so reckless. And she refused healing most of the time. Almost like she thought she deserved the pain, wanted it.”

Emmrich’s heart felt as if it were breaking as he heard what his beloved had done. Maybe it was. It was though it were made of glass, shattering beneath his rib cage, splintering in his soul. His lips parted in shock and horror. “I…I didn’t think she would…”

Davrin scoffed as he checked over Spite for any injuries. “You didn’t think. That seems exactly right.”

Emmrich glanced over at Davrin for a moment in surprise. The Grey Warden was typically on his side in most things but…he knew he was right. He didn’t think it would go this far. His focus had been on his goal and returning with the ability to keep her truly safe and beside him forever.

It was at that moment that Spite’s head shook, the purple fading away, and there Lucanis stood. His dark eyes were confused for a moment, seeing Davrin standing before him and then it seemed realization took hold as Emmrich heard Spite’s bodyless voice hiss “Corpse man…is here.”

Lucanis turned then, as though completely aware in only a second. His black brows narrowed, centering on Emmrich and his face changed to a mask of rage. No one had a moment to realize what was about to happen until it had already occurred. Lucanis pulled himself from Davrin’s arm and swung his fist squarely at Emmrich, connecting with a cracking sound to his jaw.

The Necromancer’s head jerked to the side from the blow as Davrin and Neve each grabbed one of the Crow’s arms, holding him back from further violence. “Bastardo…you left her! You don’t deserve her! How dare you come back!” Lucanis snarled at him, nearly breaking free of his two friends’ hold.

Emmrich kept his face turned away knowing the glamor could only do so much. His eyes burned red and the desire to turn and rip the throat out of the assassin after he attacked him was just being held in check. He licked the thin line of blood that fell from his cut lip, the wound healing after a few seconds.

He heard it then, in Lucanis’s words, actions and voice. The assassin wanted more than friendship with Rook. What the Crow felt was beyond that. Emmrich realized he had stayed away too long. A deep burning within him started to flame, white hot and consuming. How dare this upstart think to take away his beloved, his Mystery? She was his and he was hers and this aberration was not going to change that. This Antivan Crow leach would learn what it was to try and take from him. To dare come between them.

Emmrich let out a strangled gasp, taking a stealing breath of air to try and focus, fighting down the rage and jealousy that was bubbling up through every fiber of him. He needed to control this…he couldn’t let this take over, not now. He was not a brutal animal. He was more than his desire and instinct. He was a man, and he would remain so. He’d been told that this was something that could happen with the change at first. Emotions would be extreme…especially when love was involved. His guide on this journey knew that first hand…and Emmrich’s story of love for the one he wanted to protect was the only reason they had agreed to his request.

The Necromancer stood, ensuring the glamor was in place. He straightened his back and touched his still tender jaw. For it to still be smarting, Lucanis truly did have a mean right hook. He met the Crow’s nearly black eyes. “For what it’s worth,” Emmrich said, his voice steady and holding more than a hint of sadness, “I agree with part of what you said.”

Lucanis seemed to calm down at last, the rage most likely also being fed by Spite who also wasn’t a fan of Emmrich right then. Davrin and Neve still held onto him though, Neve wishing she’d grabbed Taash on her way over too. “It’s all true Emmrich…you know it.” Lucanis turned to Neve. “I’m okay…I won’t hit him again though he deserves it.”

Neve raised a doubtful brow but nodded to Davrin and they both released him. Lucanis flexed the fingers of his right hand which he felt was going to bruise. He knew Emmrich had a strong jaw but that seemed like solid rock he’d just decked.

Just then the sound of Manfred’s hiss of “Sssurprise!” followed by a startled gasp caused them all to turn to the doorway of Emmrich’s rooms.

Standing there in what Emmrich recognized as one of his dressing gowns was Rook. The red velvet robe hung loose around her arms and was dragging behind her like a short train. Her blue eyes were wide, glossy, and her face drained of color.

The Necromancer felt the world focus in on her, everything else fell away. He took in the mix of shock, sadness, and disbelief as she looked at him. The fact she was wrapped in his clothes…the tremors of her fingers as they grasped the fabric like a lifeline. And finally the tear that fell from her left eye onto her cheek.

“Emmrich…?” Her voice cracked as she spoke his name and Emmrich felt what remained of his heart breaking just the same way.

[pastel-peach-writes]

Would I be able to request an Ellie Williams imagine where she has a younger sibling, and they get hurt protecting her and Ellie is worried about them as they are self destructive, please?

You got it, dude!

"Dude, Chill Out." | Ellie + Sibling!Reader

╰┈➤ PLOT: Ellie this, Ellie that. Believe it or not, being Ellie's younger sibling is complete ass. Everyone raves about how strong she is and how she's able to keep her own. Well, what about you? You're barely two years younger and you can keep your own just as well as she can. Besides, she needed your help this time.

╰┈➤ WARNINGS: Cursing, Self-Destructive Reader, Sibling!Reader, Angry Ellie, Mentions Of Joel, Long Fic, No Use Of Y/N, Custom Nicknames, Not Proofread, Mentions of Weed/Smoke/Alcohol

⍣ ೋ Enjoy!⍣ ೋ

Breathe. Breathe.

Okay, now be still... look around. Clear. Run.

Through the trees, you zigzag. You're careful not to step on loose twigs and branches. Your throat is scratchy and your breath is as uneven as it's ever been.

From behind you, you can hear the squeals and hisses of whatever demonic creature you've stumped upon this time. You promised her you wouldn't get into trouble. You swore it was a quick trip. At least, it was supposed to be.

Your heart's in your stomach and your legs ache as if you've been running for days. You don't know how much longer you could go.

You glance back to see how far the creature is from you. You can't see anything with the deep gray fog that settled over the forest as nighttime came around. Even the tall tree trunks were unidentifiable.

A wail exclaims from what you thought was fog. The creature's face is bloodied and covered with rotten flesh and fungi. It roars, bringing its chest to the sky before going down on all fours and racing towards you.

"Shit, shit, shit, shit!" You're in for it now. You inhale sharply as you find any last of your strength in you to book it. Your thighs are screaming at you and your shoulders burn in every location possible.

You should've stayed home.

In the midst of your running, you fail to see a fallen tree trunk in your path. Instead of hopping over it, your shoelaces catch onto the bark of the tree.

You collapse over the trunk, and the wind violently punches out of you. You made first contact on the ground with your ribs, then your chest, and lastly your arms and face. Your legs scuff up against the wood.

Now you're not just feeling the burning of your muscles being overworked, but you're also feeling the burning sensation of many tiny cuts on your legs and arms. Possibly a few cracked ribs if you're lucky.

The creature roars again. You can smell its rotten stank as it comes closer.

Five feet.

Four feet.

Three...

Two...

Bang! Blood erupts from the middle of the creature's face. The bullet sends the creature flying and it lands on its back. More shots are fired into its chest to ensure its death.

You're not disgusted by the guts that exploded onto your face or your blood-soaked garments. Instead, you're afraid of what stands behind the gun.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!"

Trailing up from her muddy, broken-down shoes to her jeans with dirty knees all the way up past her dark gray shirt and sage green button-down, you grin at Ellie. "Hey."

-

"Oh, come on! I'm fine!" you exclaim as Ellie drags you by your collar and into her home. She tosses you to her couch. You sit down with a plop. You scoff and fix your shirt.

"You're full of bullshit. You're scratched up and if I wasn't there to save your ass, you would've been dead," she says. With a grunt, your sister goes over to her desk. She scrambles through books and papers before taking out a tin box. "You're lucky you don't have any real injuries."

Does a bruised ego count as a real injury?

"Yeah, yeah," you mumble. "No one can beat Little Miss Perfect."

With her head cocked, Ellie whips around toward you. "What did you just say?"

She's using that tone a mother would use. The same tone a bully would use to make their prey cower when they try to stand up to themselves. She sounds like Joel. When did she become him?

"Nothing." Your eyes falter between the coffee table in front of you and her eyes. No, scratch that. Her green eyes are piercing into your soul. You stare at the coffee table.

Ellie scoffs. Despite the thick tension in the room, Ellie comes to your side. She crouches on the floor and guides your arm towards her.

You wince, turning away and locking your jaw.

"I thought you said you were fine," Ellie's smirk is apparent in her words. She lengths your arm towards herself. She takes a wet cotton and cleans the minuscule cuts the infirmary didn't notice.

You nearly screech at the burning and tingling sensation. "I am. You're just gripping my arm like I'm some piece of chicken and you're the predator."

"That doesn't even make any sense." Ellie's eyes stay locked onto your arm. After she cleans up the cuts, she applies cream and gives extra delicate attention to your bruises. In the end, she wraps your arm up with a bandage wrap to prevent the cuts from getting infected and gross. "There."

You glance at the bandage. The wrap around your forearm is tight, as it should be, and moving your arm from straight to bend is damn near impossible. The classic Ellie bandage stamp of approval. "Thanks."

Ellie stands with a groan. "No biggie. Just stop getting yourself into shit. I'm tired of saving your ass." She puts her first aid supplies back in the tin box before storing the box in its original place.

"Yeah, right," you stand to follow her. "You love saving me. It paints you as the hero of the town and gets you in good cahoots with whomever you pissed off now."

Ellie turns to glare at you but decides against it. Arguing with you over this subject wasn't worth it. She sighs instead. "Whatever, man. You coming to the party tonight?"

"I wouldn't call it a party. Parties are supposed to be fun."

Ellie snickers. She rests the small of her back on the edge of her desk She crosses her arms as she shakes her head amused. "You're not wrong there, but still, you should come. If I have to go--"

"--then I have to. I know how this works." You let a sigh escape from your lips. "Fine, but I'm not going to show up on time."

"Wouldn't expect you to."

-

When you tell Ellie you're going to be late for something, you mean it. You hate arriving early to parties earlier. If they were parties held in someone's house, you're forced to mingle with the host which could be an awkward situation if you're not close with them.

Additionally, you may be forced to help set up.

Coming in late means you can slip into the party unnoticed and the decorations are bound to be done. Also, everyone's past the introductions and getting rid of the awkward air.

When you're late to a party, all that's in the air is vibes and maybe weed, smoke, and alcohol. Regardless, there's no awkwardness, just vibes. And vibes are all you're here for.

You slip into the fairy light-lit barn dressed in a fresh pair of jeans and your favorite shirt. Oh, and maybe a coat you took from Ellie who took it from Joel.

There's no scent of smoke or weed that greets you and there's only a faint smell of alcohol.

The oldies must not be here.

In the middle of the barn were people dancing and enjoying each other's company. By the back walls were people sipping on drinks and chatting amongst themselves.

You scan the party for your people, Kate, Ren, and Wired, but they're not here. You further scan for Ellie and her crew, but they're not here either.

One con on arriving late to a party: sometimes you're too late and miss seeing your favorite people.

Your shoes scuff on the floor when you turn to leave. Before you're greeted with the cold, fresh air, a girl with a short black bob grabs onto your shoulder.

You groan in pain. You turn to face her only to find that she's absolutely hammered.

"Oh, sorry!" the girl slurs. With a finger pointed towards you, she gasps. "No way! You're Ellie's sibling, right? Oh, she was just here saying how she saved you from the forest earlier this evening. She's so cool!" a giggle interrupts her ramble, "she's always saving us here and protecting us. It must be awesome to have her as your sister!"

You feign a smile. "Yeah, it's great."

The girl giggles again. "It must suck to live up to her. Like, I would feel like, inferior towards her and how she acts for others. She's so selfless. It's admirable really. She's so awesome-- Hey, I went on patrol with her once--"

You tuned out the rest of her ramble, vent, mumbling -- whatever the hell she was doing, you tuned her out. You didn't need to hear how great your sister is. You already know. You hear it every day, all day, 24/7.

What you rarely heard was how awesome you are and how great you are at things. You're lost in her 5'5 shadow and it sucks. Ellie this, Ellie that. All things Ellie can fuck off. You were going to prove how great you could be. Then maybe all this Ellie talk could stop.

You leave the party, letting the girl continue to talk about Ellie. You're sure she has some sort of crush on your sister, but that was none of your business.

-

"Hey," Dina says as she walks up to Ellie with two drinks in her hand. "Did I just see your sibling come in and then leave?"

Ellie takes a glass from her hand. Her eyes never left the barn's entrance since you walked in and then walked out. "Yeah, I just saw them too."

Dina purses her lips to the side as she leans on the wall they're standing next to. "Think they're okay?"

Ellie nods. She takes a sip of her drink, letting it linger on her lips then tastebuds before finally swallowing the liquid. "Yeah, I didn't see any signs of distress or upset on their squishy face."

Dina laughs. "You talk about them like this to their face?"

Ellie takes another sip, letting the liquid go straight down this time. "'Course not. Who do you take me as? They'll be alright."

-

The next morning, you were on the rotation for patrol. Typically, whoever's in charge of the schedule and shifts would never put you and Ellie on the same rotation. Putting siblings on the same team could be a scramble sometimes.

Sometimes you get the dream team, other times you don't.

But when you left the party last night, you changed the schedule to make sure you were on the same shift Ellie was on. You also made sure you two got paired up.

Jesse would be fine. He can deal with not being with Ellie and Dina for the morning.

So far, patrol was fine. Calm horses, easy breeze, and quick conversation.

Ellie and Dina talked more than you, but you were fine with it. You weren't trying to prove how great of a talker you were, you were trying to prove how great of a protector you are.

And saving Ellie in front of Dina guaranteed town buzz. No offense to Dina, but she can't keep a town secret to save her life. It's okay though, everyone has their faults.

"Clumsy, if I have to tell your ass to keep your horse straight one more time, I'm going to lose it," Ellie barks.

And your fault was horse-riding.

It didn't matter how long you've been horse-riding or how many times Joel and Ellie tried to teach you, you could never get the concept.

"Sorry! I'm trying. She's being rowdy today," you pout as you move your horse's reign.

"Don't blame the horse, blame the rider," Ellie snickers. You give her a scowl in response, but she only laughs it off.

An hour or so into patrol and there was no chaos. Unfortunate for you because you need the chaos in order to prove yourself. You've tried to make chaos like, snapping a twig or maybe distracting the horses so they'll run away, but to no avail.

You three dock your horses momentarily to search through a building on foot.

The building is tall and abandoned, like most of the buildings nowadays. Greenery grows from the sides and the windows are simply frames. There are no window panes in sight.

Cautiously, Ellie walks inside the building first. She has her hand on her upholster and another one guides the flashlight. Though the sun was shining, it was natural for a place like this to have dark corners or areas to be discovered.

Dina waits patiently while you cross your arms with a scoff. "Why do you have to be the first one to go in?" you ask your sister.

She sticks out a finger to shush you. You roll your eyes but obey nonetheless. Ellie scans the building, still close to the entrance in case something is hiding in the shadows. When she determines the area to be safe, she invites you two inside. "Because," Ellie answers. "I'm..."

Ellie's eyes shift toward Dina. The girl is scanning the building as told, not paying mind to your sibling conversation. Ellie lets out a breath and continues but with a lower tone. "I'm immune. If something comes running out at me, I'll be fine. You two on the other hand?" she shakes her head, "I would be dumb to let anything happen to you two."

"Blah, blah," you wave her off. You walk further away from Ellie and discover the rest of the building on your own.

The building had five stories. The first two were pretty well lit with the morning light, the others not so much. Not to mention the wet and stinky stairways.

You stomp your way up the stairs with a scowl on your face. You keep a strong hold on your flashlight.

"Will you quiet down?" Ellie whisper-exclaims from the bottom of the steps. You ignore her. You didn't even know she was following you. "If something's here, you're going to attract it."

"I don't give a fuck. You're here anyways. You can save the day as usual." Your voice is bitter yet quiet. You speak to Ellie through your teeth. "Shouldn't you be with Dina anyway?"

"She can handle her own." Ellie quickly goes up the stairs to be closer to you. "We agreed she should keep watch while us two search through the other levels."

You scoff. "So, you trust her but you don't trust me."

"Did I say that?"

You shrug. "You might as well," you make an effort to have your stomps be heard. You open the door to the other level, but Ellie rushes in front of you to scan the level first.

When safety has been assured, Ellie walks in. "Well, I didn't. So, don't get your head wrapped up over shit that isn't even true." She uses her flashlight as her eyes as she steps further into the room.

You shut the door behind yourself. You don't dare to speak to Ellie anymore as you clear the level. Onto the next you go.

You and Ellie go up the stairs in silence. Per usual, Ellie checks the level first and then allows you to come inside.

"You know, I'm getting real sick and tired of your bullshit superhero act," you drop the bomb on her as you scan through cardboard boxes.

Ellie groans to herself, "Here we go."

"You always have to save people then flaunt it. Could you ever save someone and then swear secrecy? Do you have to blab your mouth like you're Dina every time you save someone?"

Ellie's jaw tenses. "Watch yourself."

"And here you go with that bullshit!" you toss the box aside. Something in the far corner creaks, but you both pay no mind. "You're not my fucking mom, Ellie! Hell, you're not Joel or any other parental figure in my life--"

"Good! I don't want to be any of those anyway. If I birthed you, I would have no clue what to do with myself," Ellie scoffs. "You're so fucking insane sometimes, you know that?"

You shrug, crossing your eyes over your chest. Her words stab you right in the heart and send tears to your eyes, but you don't let them show.

"You're always getting yourself into trouble. You say, 'Oh, I'm fine!' but then you come to me with a dislocated knee. You'll say 'Oh, I'm just going out for a bit,' but then come home bruised up with leaves in your hair, dirt and blood on your clothes, and if I'm truly lucky, your little friends would tell me you nearly came in close contact with a fucking infected," Ellie's voice grows the more she talks.

The creaking in the corner is more apparent. In fact, it's beginning to sound like more clicking.

"Ellie," you warn, your voice quiet.

"No, you wanna do this here? Let's do this then. There's never a day where I don't worry about you. Did you eat? Drink water? Are you in your bed safely tucked in at night or am I going to wake up in the morning and receive the worst news of my life?" Ellie's voice cracks.

You can barely see her eyes stare into yours. By the sound of her voice, you can tell she's getting choked up. Maybe even crying?

"You always get yourself into shit, Clumsy, and I--"

"Ellie, look out!" you exclaim as a hand shoots through the frail wall beside her. Ellie moves, but not a sound escapes her body. She turns to the hand, then back to you where she finds you're no longer where you were two seconds ago.

Instead, you're charging headfirst into danger. You break down the wall with the crowbar that was stashed in your backpack. The clicker runs straight toward you once it's free from the wall. You bash the bar on its head before taking a blade and jamming it in the clicker's throat.

"Holy shit, are you okay?" Ellie asks. You wave her off. Instead, you walk inside the hidden room the clicker was in. You don't make an effort to scan the room like Ellie does. If something wants to come at you, so be it.

There were only two more clickers hiding in the room. You killed them both, not letting Ellie get a chance to save your ass.

Finishing up the room scan, you head over to a case of books. They're weathered and crusty, and the words on the pages bleed through. Ellie tries to spark a conversation again, but you ignore her once more.

You continue walking around the room with the floor creaking under you. Your flashlight shines a path for you to get out of the room, but you fail to see the giant hole in the ground. You step right through and fall three stories down.

Ellie calls out for you, but the moment she runs towards the hole, it's too late.

You land in a mist of cardboard boxes filled with packing supplies, but they don't do much in terms of protection.

"What the--" Dina mumbles. She turns behind herself to find you dropped in the pile of boxes with a broken arm and leg. You can't even look at her. The tears blur your vision and your head is scrambled from earlier actions and conversations.

Ellie shines her flashlight down the hole and sighs, "Only you, Clumsy."

-

You lie in your bed with your arm hoisted up and your leg resting on a stack of pillows. On your nightstand is a mug of cold soup, pain meds, and books to keep your mind busy, but it was all useless.

The day you were going to prove yourself to Jackson, you came home sharing a horse with Ellie and with broken bones.

"Oh, Ellie! Thank God you were there." "Imagine what would've happened if she wasn't there." "You're lucky you have such an amazing sister."

"Oh, fuck off," you groan. You turn your face into your pillows and groan once more.

"Oh, sorry," Ellie's voice goes through the muffling of pillows. "I can leave if you want."

You peel your face from the pillows. "No, sorry. That wasn't catered towards you."

Ellie nods. She plays with her hands as she steps further into the room. Inches away from the edge of your bed, Ellie's eyes flicker to everything else but you.

Your eyes, however, remain on her.

Your last conversation wasn't the best, that's something you both knew. But, you never knew how much she cared for you and went out of her way to protect you. You didn't need protection. At least, not from outside elements. Maybe from yourself.

You're too ambitious for your own good. You're too stubborn for your own good too. You believe you can do everything on your own when you can't. In fact, you're pretty sure you've done nothing on your own since the apocalypse broke out.

You try to be hyper-independent but instead, all you are is self-destructive.

"I'm, uh, sorry for what I said on patrol," Ellie's voice takes you out of your spiraling thoughts. "I didn't mean most of it. Like, the part of, uh," she scratches the back of her neck. "'Being lucky I didn't birth you'? One, that was weird... uh, two, I'm very lucky to have you the way I do. I'm sorry if I made you feel otherwise."

If you could shrug right now, you would, but everything hurts too much. "It's okay. I know I'm a handful."

"Maybe," Ellie walks to the side of your bed. "But isn't that your job? You're the younger sibling. You're supposed to get into trouble and I'm supposed to be the one to get you out of it."

"But I don't want you to. I want to get myself out of it."

"Oh, yeah? And how do you manage to do that? By dying?" Ellie's voice raises.

You deplete. You take your eyes off of her the moment her's lands on you. "You can go now."

"No, shit, Clumsy--"

"Stop calling me that. It's not cute, it's not endearing, it's fucking embarrassing."

"Okay, well," Ellie scans your room. It's been a minute since she's been in here. There are old porcelain sculptures of blueberries and pears scattered around your room. Most are chipped, but they're polished nicely.

On your bookcase, there are pictures of you with your friends and of you two with Joel. None of the two of you by yourselves. There are books in the case too, but they look to be untouched by you.

Ellie scans your room once more. There are speckles of blue around and even more porcelain sculptures of chipped blueberries. "How about Blueberry? Is that fitting?"

"It's fine." Your eyes remain on your window.

"Okay, well, Blueberry, I'm sorry. I really am. I've talked some things over with Dina, I guess I am a blabbermouth, but she helped me realize that, maybe you're feeling left out somehow or less than," Ellie finds her place by your bedside. "Is that true?"

"Could be."

"Right, well, Dina's a younger sister, you know that? She said that sometimes it can be hard to be your own person when your older sibling is amazing and all that shit, but I'm not amazing. I'm just me."

"Your point?"

"My point is, I wasn't trying to make you feel bad by saving you all the time. I was trying to do my part as your sister to protect you and I guess that blew up in my face," she sighs.

You finally face her. "I just wanted to prove I can be something besides Ellie's younger sibling who always gets themselves into trouble. I don't want to be known as the reckless one. I want to be strong and brave."

"But you are those things, Blueberry." Ellie's eyes motion towards the empty space beside you. You nod and allow her to sit. "I can't count all the times you went out after dark just because you heard something and wanted to ensure safety. Or however many times you stood up for the little guy. That's brave and strong."

"Not in the same sense of your strongness and bravery."

Ellie frowns. She puts a careful hand on your good thigh. "That's because you're not me. And if you spend the rest of your life trying to be someone else, you'll never be happy. No matter how hard you try, you'll never be me. You'll always be you and that's beautiful. Your friends like you for who you are. I like you for who you are. Why don't you?"

You fall silent. Your eyes well up with tears and your throat gets scratchy. With your eyes stinging, you try to move yourself close to Ellie.

You don't need to use your words to get what you want from Ellie. She already knows. She lies down, cradling your head in her arms as she does so. As you sob into her, she doesn't shush you. Instead, she draws circles on your good arm and kisses the top of your head. "I love you, Blue, and I want you to start loving yourself too. Start being you for you. Who cares about what others think?" she whispers.

You still don't have much to say. You let Ellie comfort you until the tears spill out until there are no more tears left to cry. You've spent all your time trying to prove you can be like Ellie, you kind of forgotten how to be yourself.

From this moment on, you make a promise to yourself:

Be you for who you are. The world does not need two Ellies.

WC: 4,263

A/N: I wouldn't mind two Ellies but, okay. LMAO

[justatalkingface]

The 'Great' MHA Read Along, Part Four (Chapters 12-21): Team Deathmatch!

So, first thing, we have a bunch of reporters creeping on kids for news. I... am not a fan of this. Like, I get that, in story, heroes are celebrities, and so UA is effectively a school about becoming famous, but I've never been a fan of this kind of paparazzi, or that kind of fame in general.

More relevantly, since this is a school to, among other things, turn these kids into celebrities...why do we never see them prepare the students for that fact? There's a bare nod to rescuing people later on (hardly enough for how important that is, and even that is in the License Exam, and it's implied 1A was never taught about that at all... for reasons, presumably the same reason Aizawa never mentioned that literally everyone is going to try and murder them in the exam... and outside of right now, where it doesn't happen, I don't think we ever see them train in that) and from there how to interact with victims, but for such a media dominated field, you'd think there'd be classes on, you know, how to talk to a reporter. And, sure, maybe there's some on later, but they've already been getting field work by that point, for years, well publicized field work, so it feels just a tad too late at that point.

Anyways, obvious focus on the UA Barrier for later, then straight to evaluations, where Aizawa tells Bakugou to stop acting like a seven year old'

...

Because, you know, that's how all seven year olds behave, I guess.

All those seven year old children, trying to murder anyone they don't like, stabbing people with knives, smashing each in the head with crowbars, you know, normal stuff. Kids being kids, amiright?

Then we turn to Izuku, and while, yes, Izuku not breaking his arm would be good.... do you, perchance, have a suggestion to help with that goal, Aizawa? You know, as his teacher? Who is supposed to teach him things?

Ah, yes, there it is: I want to see some sweat out of you. 'Work hard, Izuku, because clearly, the catastrophic, crippling injuries you've been dealing to yourself, which must be agonizing, aren't enough incentive for you to improve; clearly you're just being lazy here, and there's no other potential factors holding you back from improving beyond this disappointing performance.'

Sweet flying fuck, how in the hell did this guy train Shinsou? 'Here's the scarf, figure it out, I want to see results by tomorrow?'

And then they just move on, so... I guess only Bakugou and Midoriya get called out in class. Cool, cool.

Hmm. Alright, so we next we get some actual school shenanigans, and I... have mixed feelings about this.

On one hand, this is exactly the character developing, 'let it breath' stuff we've been wanting in MHA current for... years now, basiclly. Paying attention to characters when they're not actively fighting and what not is something essential for making them seem less like characters and more like people, which... you kinda want for a good story.

On the other hand, I just find this boring. I wasn't interested in who gets to be student president last time, and I'm not really now, either.

(As a side note, it's hyped up as being SPECIAL and HEROIC and IMPORTANT FOR DEVELOPING A HEROIC FOUNDATION, or whatever, which is why we're supposed to care about it, but all of that never happens, so... that's a lie. Also, kinda dumb? This isn't a military organization, there's no real reason to train heroes to command other heroes.)

Here's the thing: the content, itself, isn't the problem; a great story writer can make even the most boring shit seem interesting. I vividly remember a manga about farming, for example. Just farming, before anyone starts thinking of whatever farm Isekei may come to mind. On the face of it, that may sound boring, but it was engrossing all the same, because of how well it was written, how involved the characters were in process. There's shonen stories that manage to make the 'school' part of the story just as interesting as the, 'And now you and me fight' parts, but MHA... just isn't it. If I had to guess, it's probably how dismissive the story is about those parts; before we even get to that, after all, we already have Aizawa making it clear how useless and superflicious normal schooling is, and he continues that stance well into the story.

If one of the main characters of the story, here being Aizawa (AKA the teacher who is heavily emphasized in story about how 'wise' he is), is dismissive about something, and there's nothing in story to really counter that perception, then yeah, the story probably isn't going to be covering that topic in an interesting way.

TLDR: I don't think Hori doesn't give a shit about the 'Academia' part of My Hero Academia, and it shows.

Anyways, there's some pointless school drama, and the only things I'm getting out of it outside of some foundational character stuff is that: the kids are all idiots, with how they were mobbing when the alarm went off (and the teachers are alarmingly absent when said alarm went off; shouldn't a security alert be when you secure the children?), Iida is too pure for this world, and god that whiplash is going to hit hard, and finally that U.A. is way too OK with the fact that someone broke in.

(Well, that and, for all that I'm very much not a fan of pushy reporters invading things they have no right to... Present Mic literally says that this is going from illegal trespassing into villainy. How?????

Seriously, how?! The only thing they're doing, beyond the trespassing, is... ignoring them and being assholish about questions?

Why in the actual fuck is he asking permission to blow them away!? Mic???? I thought you were the good teacher! )

Anyways, Izuku dodges dealing with shyness, Iida gets promoted over Momo to be president, and Nezu gets to sound ridiculous talking about an 'element of evil'. Yeah.

Next chapter: We see All Might using his time in a far more productive way, and a nod to the fact that heroes jobs are literally built around crime happening.

That's exactly how I responded when I first heard Izuku told Bakugou about OFA, All Might! (Although, Izuku explicitly says he didn't tell his mom, so... what did he say? There's a serious conversation here that we're just not getting.)

*Snort*

'Dark forces would flow forth in legions'. I mean, he's not wrong, but All Might only barely pulls that off because he's, like I said, hammier than ham in general, but the fact all the heroes randomly have asides like that, no matter how serious they are, was always jarring about this early on stuff.

...'Trial' of Rescue? It makes it sound like your testing them on stuff they should have no way of possibly knowing; if things went differently, would you have threatened to expel the last place student here as well, Aizawa? NGL, though, feels weird that costumes are optional for this because 'they might not be adapted'. I mean... for all the shit you dump on them to force them to adapt, you'd think doing things in your costume, that you are potentially going to be wearing all the time, would be an obvious choice. Wouldn't it be better to figure out if your costume needs work now rather than later?

And why are costumes in the classroom...? I mean, they'll need to leave to change anyways, it'd make a lot more sense to just have a changing area where the costumes are stored at.

Bus time.

You know, one of the things that strikes me, here, is how everyone is acting; there is no fear, loathing or shunning of Bakugou for happened last arc, not only for the murder attempt they never properly reacted to, but to the savage beating they were begging All Might to stop the fight over... but, they're not admiring him, either. There's friendly teasing at his expense, even.

And it's like... the fight never happened, in their minds (or Bakugou attacking Izuku on Day One, for that matter). They're acting like they know Bakugou only as a competent, if abrasive, student, and are treating him accordingly. It's kinda fascinating, really, because later they'll forget all of Bakugou's sins, of course, but that's only part of it: they'll fawn over him, because they only get to see this idealized version of Bakugou. Here? They just aren't responding to the worse parts, but they're still generally treating Bakugou like you'd expect someone like Bakugou would be treated. From my perspective of the very ends of the manga, it's really interesting to see this, like an AU where Bakugou both as a person and a character was treated more seriously in the story.

Gotta love that Kaminari Truth Bomb, lol.

Also, for how short this is: the characters are all interacting with each, it's light-hearted and non-serious, the ingredients are the same as they were before, but this is a lot more interesting to read for me than the Class President stuff was. More evidence My Hero Not Academia, I guess.

And now we've arrived at the USJ proper and, again, waaaay too big; the fucking budget this one school has has to be bigger than the budget of some small countries. And... 13 created this? By herself? Yet again, UA teachers have way too much freedom in school, for no apparent reason, because the way this is phrased makes it sound like this entire, giant ass facility, is 13's facility.

All Might: saves people, rather than try (and fail) to teach.

Eraserhead: hOw IRRatiONal.

I get he was supposed to be here, and he is failing as a teacher, but acting like he's being an utter moron by doing his other actual job is a bit much; here starts the point where All Might never gets a win... ever again, really. It's not All Might if someone's not metaphorically kicking him, after all.

You know, for how much of a non-character 13 ends up being, this five seconds of her is really refreshing: this conversation she's having, about how, you know, 'Quirks are dangerous, let's all try not to hurt someone with them' is exactly the conversation you'd think would have started the school year off with; she feels like a lot more realistic teacher than anyone we've seen thus far.

I guess that why Kurogiri's coming to shut her up then, right? We can't have a teacher actually teaching in UA!

....You know, it's easy to forget how weird Tomura was drawn early on. His image is far more... stark than we get later on, more focus on his wrinkles and the shadows on his face; it gives me some Uncanny Valley vibes. Actually, I can really see all the weird-ass horror hand stuff Hori eventually ends up doing in this, because he just looks wrong in some fundamental way, like he doesn't fit in the setting properly.

I've said this before, but I never liked early Tomura, because of how dumb he felt, but if Hori had leaned into this version more, him being off instead of him being childish, it would have made him feel a lot more threatening. But... after this one of his main pieces of characterization is going to be throwing fits, so...

...

Actually, I'm hitting pause here.

So. I, among others, talk about how bad a teacher Aizawa is, but I don't think I've spelled out how dangerous that could be, beyond ruining the students education, if a man in his position was viewed as fundamentally untrustworthy by the students he's in charge of. What we have here is a perfect time to discuss that!

Let's picture the scene, everybody: a dark portal opens, and bunch of weird people rush in. Aizawa goes into Serious Mode, puts on his goggles, and leaps into action, loudly declaring that, 'THOSE ARE VILLIANS!'

Now we turn to students: they look at Aizawa, see how serious he's acting.... and then remember how serious he looked yesterday, right before he told them that the big thing they were worried about was a 'logical ruse'.

Their panic calms slightly, and they think about the situation again from a new light.

What's more likely? That a giant horde of villains have broken into UA facility, famed for how safe it is, staffed by actual heroes? Into a building that is presumably secured and closed off to the public at all times? That they knew to break in now, of all times, just when the class went on a field trip? To a training facility?

Or, that Aizawa is giving them a 'logical ruse' again, with 13 in on it this time, and all these 'villains' are actors to help them learn better? (Just to be clear, here, that's basiclly what happens in the actual License Exam later on: Gang Orca, who is canonly one of the scariest heroes around, 'breaks into' the rescue focused exam with an army of mooks and starts throwing down like he's an actual villain. The only thing that separates this theoretical situation from that actual exam is that it was clear in the exam that the 'villains' were part of the exam.) And that, once they get this little skit out of the way, they'll reveal the joke, mock you if you fall for it, again (that is if Aizawa doesn't threaten to expel you for failing his standards... again), and then everyone will get on with the training.

So, the thing is, in dangerous situations, you need to make the right choice right away; if Iida was more on the ball, for example, maybe he could have escaped the USJ before Kurogiri made his way over to them, and gotten help for everyone that much sooner.

Hesitation, in other words, leads to disaster.

Do you know what's worse than hesitation in a dangerous situation?

Thinking your teacher is punking you like you're on some hidden camera show, and acting accordingly.

Imagine what could have happened when the students were all randomly separated and dropped before packs of villains, if they thought the villains were acting? What could have happened if a bunch of kids, kids with no combat training (beyond Shoto, who had training, and Bakugou, whose trigger happy instincts would have come in handy for once instead of being a dangerous liability), were placed in front of a bunch of people out to murder them, while they treated the situation like a game?

Hell, what if the kids rushed in to fight the villains before that happened, while Eraserhead was bogged down by charging head first into the army of mooks? (Also, couldn't he have... not done that? Some kind of collaborative attack with 13, where she attacks them while Eraserhead nerfs them, maybe? For all that Eraserhead is apparently specialized in a group fight, the guy with no offensive Quirk against a small army seems... a flawed choice.) They're trying to be heroes, after all: brave, probably eager to fight and flex their Quirks some more after a lifetime of keeping them suppressed, of not being allowed to use this intrinsic part of themselves all out. Besides, fighting the 'villains' sounds like a great way to get a good grade, right?

It gets even worse when the villains explain their goals: to kill All Might.

All Might is, let me remind you, the guy who punched a bunch of slime so hard that it started to rain. While he was weakened, no less.

All Might, while he's branded as the Symbol of Peace, is more honestly the Symbol of Victory, more than Bakugou ever will be: he effortlessly crushes every obstacle before him, doing it all with a smile and a quip, throughout his entire career. The peace he is so famous for is built on the idea that he never loses, and that this is a universally acknowledged fact.

He is so strong, so overwhelmingly competent, that he has made Japan, as a nation, simultaneously safer and more willing to sit on their hands and do nothing. He is so unstoppably successful at his job that Endeavour, who is second only to All Might himself (by... whatever metric that's judged off of), gets a villainous backstory trying to keep up with him.

In MHA, before the main story happens, a bunch of randos saying that they're going to kill All Might is like me saying I'm going to beat up Mount Everest.

It's ludicrous, in other words. Anyone saying it is either actively insane... or clearly lying through their teeth.

If Shigaraki's Uncanny Valley factor was just a little weaker, just a little less alarming, if they decided Aizawa was just lying to them again, and that this was just another example of UA's extreme training philosophy, they could have been slaughtered because this man couldn't be bothered to put the effort into his actual job, which he is getting paid for, and focus on his students in any real way.

This is the problem with Aizawa, the Teacher. As a hero, sure, he's great, and him jumping right away to defending the kids is good and all, but as a teacher? He is so fucking lazy that his students could have been, and in all honesty should have been, killed because they have no reason to trust his directions, especially in a serious, unusual situation.

If you can't trust the person in charge of you to make wise decisions in times of danger, or this case communicate those decisions to you and be trusted, then they are a liability, and for a man in Aizawa's situation, with his job, his responsibility to these kids? That is unacceptable.

...

Anyways. Villains show up, Eraserhead wades in (and then Hori makes sure to have Izuku and Shigaraki talk him up! You're so cool, Eraserhead! Make sure the readers know just how awesome you are as you effortlessly plow through the mooks! And I love how he punches a guy twice his size, who is made out of rock, and sends this guy flying, somehow, and doesn't break his hand in the process), then Kurogiri rolls up, monologues like an edgelord, and yeets all the kids, but not before the Bakugou and Kirishima dynamic is founded by.... failing utterly.

*sigh*

Seriously, Mineta? You're half drowned and in serious risk of getting murdered, and now you perv? This is why he's so hated, BTW: not because he's a pervert, but because that's almost his entire characterization. Jiraiya is a creepy, spying pervert as well, sure, but he's beloved by the Naruto fandom because he does all this other stuff that isn't being a creep, that makes him seem like an interesting person. He has relationships, and develops more, that don't revolve around breasts, which gives us a good, humanizing take on him beyond that character flaw.

Mineta's second character trait after being a pervert is being a coward, and... I don't think he really has friends? It's not a good look, to say the least. And yes, I know he gets a 'brave moment' here, where he surpasses his cowardice.... that is to say, where he literally throws things from a distance, but that happens for... all of two panels, and isn't that impressive even when it does happen. Then afterwards it's right back to normal. The notes say Hori had a hard time balancing his character against Hori's natural perviness, and honestly I'm just surprised this is the balanced version?

Anyways, everyone has to fight, and we see Izuku have to deal with the situation. He forces his way past his fear, his hesitation, to the realization he has to act, and then commits to it.

He observes the situation, comes to several realizations from what he sees, from how the villains act and the environment they're in. Then he comes up with an unorthodox plan, built around using his classmates various abilities effectively, and then executes it, claiming an overwhelming victory despite the odds against him.

This, all of this? All of this is far more interesting to read than his fights have been lately. This Izuku is easier to root for, easier to be concerned about, easier to like, than when we know he's going to beat everyone else up because he's OP. He's relatable like this, and that is a magic word for keeping people involved in your story.

Then everyone else fights, and most of it isn't that interesting. One notable one is the Momo, Kaminari and Jirou fight where: they also come up with a creative plan to win, Momo gets to use her powers usefully.... and then Kiminari is literally nerfed into being an idiotic pervert (like the one we already have isn't enough?), while Momo's shirt is torn off. Because of course. Then Kiminari is beat up for the suffering the mental version of Izuku's bone breaking side effect, because he can't win anything; god, it must suck to be him.

...Do you know how surreal it feels to watch Tomura be competent? Seriously, he's in a hand to hand brawl with Eraserhead, doing well despite the fact this should be something he doesn't actually do that often, considering his Quirk, he's calculating Aizawa's weak points... this guy feels like a threat, and I don't usually have that impression of him until the Villain Arc. I... I'm genuinely wondering if he always was this threatening, far more than I remember, and that some bad takes on him became the most memorable trait of him that became his fanon characterization, or he gets nerfed after his introduction like All Might was.

Ah, the Classic Noumu. The very one that screwed up my view on every other version; god, this one is a monster. He's an impossible behemoth of a thing, easily beating every enemy he comes against, crushing Eraserhead as a brutal introduction. Great first impression, but he makes all the other versions until the High Ends show up seem bizarrely weak for all the fuss they get.

And then All Might comes in.

And he isn't smiling.

Remember in an earlier post how I mentioned that All Might acts hammy to appear non-threatening? Well, I feel validated. (You know, until he promptly loses.)

...That is Actually Bowser. There's actually a Bowser-lite character, canonly, in MHA. Huh.

Anyways, it's faced up against Serious Might that makes Noumu seem that big of a threat, the fact that Tomura takes his arrival so well makes him that much more disturbing; I keep saying this, but this arc was a damn good intro for him.

Oh, hey! Remember when the strongest warper in setting was a threat in combat? This arc does; an ability like that could be lethal if used right, and it's nice seeing that in action, when later Kurogiri is devolved in a largely passive porter for The Team.

And then Izuku charges in! And then Bakugou... 'helps', ugh. I've gotten spoiled by all the chapters where he was 'dead'; I forgot how much he used to be shoved into every possible situation, in the best possible way to make his otherwise alarming behavior look good.

Like. He's not doing the right thing here, like everyone else is (even Shoto, who feels disconnected from the situation). He's doing what he wants, and it's just happening to help everyone else, yet it's getting shown as the 'right' thing. It's just frustrating for him to get these 'hero' shots of him looking and acting unhinged, but knowing I'm supposed to find that heroic.

And here, Tomura is pointing out what I pointed out earlier: All Might's 'peace' is based on the threat of superior violence, which... is quickly ignored because he's a murder hobo. Mixed feelings about that; as a character, for where he is in the story, for who he's supposed to be, he's exactly the kind of person to act off that logic, but he does have a good point, and I don't think anyone else brings it up, really? All Might being dissed for being All Might later is based off him no longer being a hero, and society is falling apart and all that, never that the peace itself is based off the threat of him.

...That said, why the hell doesn't All Might just... grab the Noumu again? If Kurogiri isn't hard countering that kind of thing, there's nothing really stopping All Might from grabbing the Noumu's wrist and just yeeting the guy. It's a big, dramatic moment, I get it, overcoming the shock absorption with power and sheer determination, but it's also dumb.

Also, hope that Noumu doesn't land in anybody's house or anything, lol.

Eight or nine last minute saves later, and it's all over save for the All For One introduction; ah, the nostalgia of 'Sensei', plotting from the shadows. I missed him being threatening.

Minor thing, but I like that brief moment of humanizing on the previously aloof Shoto when he realized Hagakure was there when he was fighting, it's a nice touch showing that he's more than his facade without slapping us in the face with it, a good setup for later.

Oh, and here's some extra Aizawa hypocrisy for you: he goes on and on about how bad Izuku is at taking care of himself, but we got a butcher's bill about all the damage inflicted on him. Next day? He shows up mummified. Great example, there; and it's set up just to show how.... badass he is, I guess? But it's annoying that they went through all that work setting up how badly he's damaged just to gloss over it, and yet Izuku's injuries are about to be taken seriously.

Awkward end of chapter cliffhanger!

[atomic--peach]

Her Grace's Handmaiden Pt.6

(Cersei x Fem Reader x Jaime. Sandor Clegane x Fem Reader)

AO3 VERSION: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48276340

"Are you happy now?" Robert raged as Cersei gazed dispassionately at him. "It's not enough you bring your whore across the fucking continent; you have to make a show of fucking her in front of the whole camp?"

"You don't bother to hide your infidelities" Cersei glowered, "why should I hide mine?"

"You humiliated me!" Robert slammed his cup on the nearest table, pouring himself another helping of strong ale.

Cersei simmered in silence. She knew what she did was foolish, but the satisfaction of the court knowing King Robert was the cuckold for once was almost worth it.

"It was an offense to The Faith, not to mention High Treason! I should have both your heads on pikes"

"Robert, please. It's not like she can father my bastards, like your mistresses have."

Robert's bloated face blanched at this, and Cersei rolled her eyes.

"Oh, don't act like it was some big secret."

Robert's rage returned, further fueled by indignation.

"Out of my sight, woman. Before I have you scourged in front of the whole camp."

She left willingly, knowing exactly where she would find you.

Jaime had been charged with keeping you company while Cersei received her tongue lashing, and the queen found the two of you at play like a couple of teenagers.

"Sister" Jaime grinned, his arm pressed against yours as the two of you held a thin candle between your forearms. "You're just in time to watch this little minx lose."

"How are you?" You ignored Jaime's taunts as the flame grew closer to your skin. "What did he say? Am I to be sent away?"

"I don't know. He didn't say much of consequence, he mostly just blustered." Cersei poured herself a glass of wine and watched the flame between your arms sink lower. Jaime was starting to sweat now.

You frowned, unsatisfied.

As it had turned out, Cersei's little exhibition had spread through the camp like wildfire. You received looks ranging from awe to disgusted from everyone you passed the morning after, and certain people wouldn't even look you in the eye anymore.

"Just ignore them, sweetling." Cersei had said. "They don't matter."

To your great relief, Sandor didn't seem to care at all. All he said when he heard was "It's about time."

Sandor had become something of a comfort to you this past month, and while he tried to treat you with mostly indifference, it was clear he was partial to you as well.

"FUCK" Jaime cursed as the flame reached his skin, flicking wax off his forearm and rubbing the bright red skin soothingly. "Have you no sense of pain?"

You didn't answer, only smiling coyly and kissing the burn on his flesh. "Poor baby"

"I should finish packing your things, Your Grace." You sighed, standing and brushing grass off your dress. "We'll reach Winterfell by this afternoon."

The last stretch of the ride was surprisingly easy. Your mare had adjusted to your leadership, and your body had grown accustomed to the long distances.

"Are you sure you're not embarrassed to be riding next to Queen Cersei's Whore?" You teased Clegane as he mounted Stranger next to you.

"Not as embarrassing as trying to keep her little cunt of a son alive long enough to inherit."

"Sandor" you hushed him with a blush, fearing you would be heard. "You mustn't joke like that. I'm on thin ice as it is."

Sandor made a guttural scoffing sound and eyed the horizon.

Winterfell was truly, unbelievably massive.

It had to be, to house as many people as possible when the harsh winter inevitably fell upon the land. What were those ever-ominous house words?

Winter is Coming.

"Clegane, Y/N" The king's squire rounded his horse along side Stranger. "The King wishes to speak with the two of you, right now."

"Now?" You blinked but steered your horse behind Sandor, who seemed equally skeptical as you neared the large, rumbling royal coach. The King, it seemed, had opted to arrive in style rather than on horseback.

"Halt" a voice called, and Robert exited the litter, followed by an unusually tense and somber Cersei. One look at her face, and you could sense something was horribly awry.

"You asked to see us, Your Grace?"

"Indeed" Robert breathed, looking very pleased with himself. "I thought the two of you ought to know, shortly after our arrival at Winterfell, the two of you are going to be married by a Septon of the Faith of The Seven. Congratulations."

You very nearly fell off your horse in shock.

"Y-Your Grace, I don't understand I-"

"Young Lady," The King whipped back around, his jovial face replaced with a look of contempt. "I ought to have you stripped naked and whipped through the streets of Kings Landing for treason, do you understand that?"

His tone shocked you into submission and you gazed at the ground fearfully.

"Yes, Your Grace."

"Instead, I'm showing you something called mercy. I'm allowing you to keep the skin on your back and solving our current issue as diplomatically as I can. You should be on your knees thanking me, instead of talking back."

"Yes, Your Grace. I'm very sorry." You nodded, "Thank you for showing mercy, I will strive to be worthy of it."

"And you." Robert eyed Clegane. "Bed her, ignore her, lock her in a sept somewhere for all I care. Just keep her away from my wife."

Sandor nodded slowly and you cast your gaze on Cersei whose face was twisted into a look of utter frustration and disappointment.

As the litter took off once more, a deep coldness settled into your stomach. You should have known it was too good to be true.

"Y/N?"

"I am so sorry."

"I-" Sandor paused, considering his next words. "I didn't expect that, did you?"

"No." You shook your head. "Oh Gods, Sandor I am *so* sorry. I never meant for you to get dragged into this. If I had known-"

"He didn't kill you" Sandor cut you off. "Just be grateful for that for now."

"How are you so calm about this?" You turned to face him, "In fact, this whole trip you have been unnervingly cavalier about this whole situation. You were just ordered by your king to marry some no named nobody from flea bottom who's only claim to fame is being the Queen's whore. And you don't even seem upset."

Sandor shrugged, "I've done far worse things on the orders of far worse men than Robert Baratheon. Besides, it's just marriage. I can't imagine it will change things much. On my end anyway."

It's just marriage.

You thought this over a moment. It was true, High-borns married complete strangers all the time. And it wasn't like you and Sandor were *complete* strangers.

"I guess I haven't thought about it like that." You nodded, somehow soothed by his lack of response. "You're right. We just need to...roll with the punches."

You took off a little ahead of him, and Sandor watched your back as you went, oddly enough noting that your riding form had improved immensely.

"You took that remarkably well."

Sandor stifled an irritated groan as the Kingslayer rode up beside him.

"Fuck off"

"No, it's true. You did." Jaime insisted. "I'm impressed."

Sandor attempted to move ahead of him, but Jaime kept pace.

"Seriously though" Jamie grew more somber. "She's a sweet girl. I doubt she even fully understood what she was getting herself into. I'd hate to see her stuck in a life of misery because of this."

Sandor cast him a poisonous glare, swallowing a mouthful of insults and instead saying;

"Just because you've had your cock in her doesn't mean you know anything about her, Kingslayer."

Before sending his horse into a gallop to catch up with you.

You arrived in Winterfell with much pomp and fanfare.

Keeping yourself concealed from the main group, you watched as the official greetings were exchanged, bows and curtseys and full honors bestowed, until Robert separated from the party to pay respects at the crypts.

When the king was well out of sight and there was commotion loading and unloading wagons, Cersei pulled you aside.

"I did everything I could" were the first words out of her mouth.

"I thank you." You wanted to take her hand but did not dare. Not now. "Honestly, it's a better punishment than I could have dared hope."

"Indeed?" Cersei pulled a tense smile, "I thought you and Clegane weren't-"

"We..." you searched for the words, "We've settled into each other. If that makes sense."

"Ah" Cersei's face was tight but tried to remain neutral, "That makes things easier then, I suppose. All the same, I'll find something for you to do in the Keep, sweetling. I won't let him win."

You smiled gratefully, excusing yourself to unload and carry her bags to her and Robert's shared room.

As you left, Cersei found herself wondering exactly which *him* she meant.

[buckyandgeraltsupremacy]

Not Alone (Joel Miller x Fem!Reader)

joel miller x fem!reader

when you find yourself completely alone, you might just have to look up to realize you aren't.

warnings: mentioned death of family members; injuries

author: sj

masterlist

part 2

---

You quite literally stumbled upon Jackson. You had been traveling with your younger brother and when he got bit it got ugly. You shot him but not before he some how broke your arm. You weren't bit but you sure did feel like your arm was falling off.

Even though it had been two days of travel since, you still hadn't quite processed the trauma. All you could focus on was that you now were unarmed (almost literally) without your gun that ran out of bullets, hadn't eaten since, and were in an extreme amount of pain.

You had just taken a stumble, head becoming dizzy from the lack of food that you had consumed when the Jackson patrol found you. You sobbed uncontrollably when you heard the horse hooves beating on the ground getting louder. You heard gun clicks.

"PLEASE!!!! I'm not infected!! I'm hurt!!" You looked up holding one arm up in the air. Your upper left arm felt like it was falling off and couldn't raise it.

"BOTH HANDS IN THE AIR!" A deep voice yelled.

"I can't. I think my arm is broken. I'm unarmed!! I have a gun but there's no bullets. You can take it if you don't believe me. I promise. I just need help." You pleaded. God you hoped these people were sane and didn't eat each other.

The next thing you knew, you were being helped onto a horse after being sniffed by a dog and led into town. You were instantly taken into a building and were seen by a doctor.

"Looks pretty broken to me. The lower part towards your wrist is definitely broken, but it looks like you muscles have been compensating for your wrist too much and thats why the pain is all the way up to your shoulder." You thanked the doctor and they wrapped your wrist and got you a make shift sling to rest your arm in.

The lady that escorted you to the doctor, Maria, led you out.

"We have a small house that is across the street from ours that isn't occupied yet. Dusty and untouched, but empty. I can bring over some clothes and lunch for you. I'll give you a small tour and then show you to your house.

And show you she did. This was amazing. You never realized how much you missed order until you were in it. And the stables and animals were amazing. The tour ended by knocking on a large house that was quite truthfully, gorgeous. She pointed across the street, "That's Tommy and I's house. Yours is next door to this one. I just want to introduce you to your neighbors real quick. This is Tommy's brother."

The door finally opened to reveal a young girl, probably an early teenager standing before you with a pony tail.

"Ellie. This is Y/n, your new neighbor. She just arrived today. I want to make sure she is well taken care of. Can you do that?" Maria asked, Ellie glancing to you. You smiled at her obvious trust of Maria. She then nodded.

"Yeah. Of course I fucking can. Whats with the sling?" She asked.

"I broke it." You replied with smile at the course language that casually slipped out of her mouth. You would've gotten reamed by your parents if you were her age.

"Where's Joel?" Maria asked Ellie. Instead of replying, Ellie instead screamed his name.

"What the fuck Ellie? I told you not to answer the door to strangers." A tall man with salt and pepper curls stomped down the stairs and came up behind Ellie. Ahh thats where the language came from.

"Maria isn't a stranger. And if I didn't answer the door, you'd never fucking hear any one knocking." Joel rolled his eyes, a quiet curse slipping from his lips under his breath. Unbeknownst to you, his eyes landed on you. You crinkled your eyes at Ellie, enjoying watching their interaction and how comfortable they seemed together. The bickering well coated in love and playfulness. You heart gave a little ache.

"Joel. This is Y/n."

"You just came in today didn't you?" He asked, remembering how you pleaded for help with tears streaming down your face. He swear he felt his heart crack a little with how much pain you seemed to be in and here you were smiling in front of him like you just won the lottery.

"Yeah. Nice to officially meet you. Both of you." You smiled, nodding at him and then nodding at Ellie. He watched your bright, but tired eyes glance between him and Ellie in front of you.

"I just wanted you to know, she'll be living next to you and wanted to make sure you'll keep an eye out for her." Maria looked at Joel with an extra piercing stare and he nodded. She cocked an eyebrow and he nodded in agreement.

"Yeah. We'll keep an eye out." He agreed.

"Good. Let's go and get you settled. I'll grab you some food that should last you the day too." Maria walked you down the steps and he noticed the shaky way you grabbed for the railing and you gently went down the steps.

He knew you came in alone, but wondered if you were completely alone. He knew the feeling and didn't like that you probably did too.

[hauntedkidpersona]

Once upon a time// Chapter-5

Pairing- Polybts x reader

Summary-Choosing a husband is not easy, but bring in the seven princes and your in a lot of trouble.

Warnings: Duality of humans, Mistress, Y/N is a badass, Detachment issues, Cold behaviour, Strangers to enemies, Nudity, sexual jokes, talks of orgasm (nothing we don't know)

Overview: Life isn't like fairytale. You knew it the moment you reached a ripe age of nineteen. Which meant, your now a women who is in a hurry to be wed and bring prosperity and fame to your Kingdom. For this, you have readily accepted the self-groom event which requires you to select your husband out of all the potential Kings and Princes alike. But what happens when you select, not one. Not two but seven grooms? Chaos.

Masterlist-

A/n- Taglist is open for now.

Tags- @singukieee @shadowyjellyfishfest @inlovewithallmusic @lachimolala22019

The laughter of your maids echoed across the inner quarters, it was a peaceful afternoon. Even though the place outside was burning through the onslaught of the summer, like hot coal it would burn anyone unlucky.

But inside here, you were enjoying the breeze near the kadamba trees that were in full bloom. Looking over the crystal clear pool whose stage was graced in lotuses of all colours- purple being the most dominant.

"She is cheating, Princess." A shrill noise had you turn into the commotion, watching as the maids that littered around for a small play of chausar break into an argument.

Anika glares, "I wasn't, the rules didn't say you could back away your dices."

You sigh, taking measured sips of the cool lemonade. The Sky Palace was breathtaking, made of white marbles. It stood in stark contrast to its name, resembling the sheer vastness of the benevolent King that reins the land you trudge in delight. He sure has taken a great deal out of the small request you had of him.

But who knew your peaceful days would end soon.

Young and naive. That's what your father calls you. But how can one expect a 16 year old to behave like some matured person. Your days were peaceful, passing with the vivid imagination of the books you read. You had no interest in anything, and so you were even described as a lazy wart. For except beauty you possessed no special qualities of a royal. You were pampered and spoiled rotten, throwing tantrums was second nature by now.

But all that changed when you fell for him, the sweet man who would bring all your imagination to life. But who knew he was just a vile human waiting for an opportunity. Which he got.

You shut your eyes tightly, fisting your palms wherein the warm water failed to match the intensity with which your heart burned. You hissed, inspecting the now bloody palm pierced by your nails. The blood swirled into the water, burning through and through. You imagine his blood pouring out as you ruthlessly kill him, without an ounce of mercy. You can't wait to be blessed by his screams of terror, him begging for his life while you get the upper hand. You can't wait until you meet him again.

They were right. When a woman decides to take revenge, even the devil sits down to take lessons.

You have a deal with the King of the Sun Kingdom. You keep the Princes from leaving their duties, while he in return gets you what you want.

Simple as that.

Getting out, you wrap yourself in a towel.

Not waiting to call out Anika to bring your clothes, you walk out. Face stoic and heart made of steel.

"Princess," you somewhat hear Anika gasping at your blatant disregard of modesty.

You look ahead, glaring at Jin who was now looking at you with a wide open mouth. Is that your book in his hand? Did he fucking read it?

The fuck.

Jin couldn't take his eyes off of you. Your wet hair, swirling and parted as it clung to your hips. Your curves being defined but he cursed that cloth that was in between. He can't admire the beauty in front of him. The book and revenge was long forgotten as he spluttered, cheeks flushing in embarassment while you glared at him.

Poisonous, that's what your looks are. Dangerous and deadly, it could kill a man if you chose that body as a weapon of seduction.

"Get. Out. Right. Now." You shouted, partly screamed so loud that he knew the palace guards would be coming to check. Scrambling out of the bed, he almost falls but nonetheless he stands up quickly. Coughing a bit, as he rushes out with prominent red cheeks that burns in shame and embarassment.

"Are you mad, you were almost naked in front of him. Have some shame Princess, what will he think of you?" Anika blabbers as you plop onto your bed, effortlessly hiding your book for which you became so defensive.

"Are you even listening-

You rolled your eyes, the next second, a cloth was strewn right at your face. Knocking you off from the train of thoughts you boarded long time ago. You sit up, furiously, "So what, He is my husband and moreover I don't care. I am confident on my body, whoever sees it will die for it."

Your tone drops, dripping in arrogance. Why not? History is proof of how men kill, die and wage war for beauty. Your a women who knows how to manipulate pathetic men with your charms. You don't shy away by them who eye you in lust, knowing they can't ever have you. Same goes for that Prince Jin. He can watch you but can never have you.

Giving you a solemn look, Anika helps you in dressing. The quiet that follows is suffocating, but your in no hurry to pause it.

Decked in gold, you shimmer at the red robes that make you look lethal. That's what you like to do, terrorize others so they don't overstep their boundaries. With power comes responsibilities and with that, you build walls; too high to climb.

"Princess—" Keeping a hand on your shoulders, Anika turns you around; "You should know that the fire that burns in you will one day burn you too. I know it demands and reckons you to be rude, mean, cold and rebellious. But someday, this fire will burn out and all you will be left with is loneliness. So please try to be nice to the Princes, so that in future you have someone to care for you."

Pushing her hands away, you smile at her. "Loneliness doesn't scare me, people do. For you know what to expect from being alone but you can never say the same for the other. I am not here to make friends, for I have far greater enemies to take care of."

Jin clears his throat, avoiding looking at anyone as he speeds up inside the common place where all of his brothers from another mother gather. Maybe he can find someone free from his duties.

Entering inside the room, he is met with Yoongi, Taehyung and Jungkook who seem to be busy in their own world. Taking a seat, Jin pours himself a drink and gulps it down in one go. Which did not go unnoticed by them.

"Brother, you look like you ran a marathon." It was Taehyung who takes a jab first, as Yoongi chuckles.

"I did, that witch." He groans, unable to get the image of her out of his mind. You had no shame, whatsoever. Walking like that in front of him. What were you upto? He now knows, why your beauty is praised by all. It was as if you were carved by the celestial beings, and no you weren't petite. You had curves in all the right places and damn that white cloth of yours hid nothing to his imagination. Hiding that body beneath all that robes should be illegal. As soon as that thought arises, he bites his lip upto the point of bleeding.

No way.

He can't fall in your trap. Your purposely seducing him, trying to seperate him from Irene and he won't let you do that. Never.

Sensing whom he was calling witch, Taehyung inquires, "Why, what happened?"

"I saw her naked." He shouts, mad at God knows whom. Him, you or the situation.

Taehyung gasps, as Yoongi who was in the process of enjoying his drink coughs violently. While Jungkook, the innocent lamb's eyes were as wide as saucers. Cheeks tinting a dark shade of red.

After gathering himself, Yoongi and the others bombards him with questions,

"Are you kidding me? How?"

"Damn, It should have been me."

"How-w, I mean did you two do it?"

"What about Irene then?"

Jin sighs, glaring at Taehyung who was accusing him of seeing you like that. It should have been him, not his elder brother.

"Guys, do you think we can do it. I had rather die and she had rather kill me than bed me. As for seeing her naked, she had a cloth wrapped around her. I saw her cause she might have thought nobody was there and came out of the bath in minimal clothing."

Yoongi hums, not interested in knowing anything. While Taehyung smirks, clearly amused.

Entering inside the royal library, you heave a sigh. But that quickly changes when you see no guards on sight, where are they? Lacking on their duties like this. Shameful. Going inside, you frown. You can feel it in your gut, something isn't right. The silence being far more merciless than you. You look around, the sun rays exuding rays across the large windows that keep it's brilliance intact. You keep walking, your footsteps being the only companion.

A rustle, snaps you as you strike; pulling the stranger hiding behind the shelves as your knife is freed from your robes and clutched against the intruder's throat in blatant disregard of their life. You press it, drawing blood that takes a coppery path along the pale skin of that women.

Irene.

She screams, flailing against your arms but it was futile. "Leave me, Prince- someone save me."

"Shh, damsel in distress. From when your allowed inside the royal library huh? Who gave you the permission and the audacity?" You push back the knife, grabbing her chin harshly. You bring her close, nails digging into her flesh.

Irene flails grabbing her hands to free herself, "Prince gave me permission."

You smirk, "But the King told you to stay far away then how dare you to have the courage to spread your whore legs inside my quarters and on my bed bitch. Tell me, from where this defiance comes. Let me end that for once and all." She hissed. You were so done with her. You push her away, as you continue; "Get this in your damn head. If you love Prince Jin so much than stay where your put. Don't try to meddle in affairs your not allowed to. Your just his mistress, so don't try to anger me otherwise I would have you thrown out of the Palace faster than you spread that damn legs of yours."

Irene glares at you, "That will only happen if you come out alive, Prince loves me and it's you who has to get out of here."

"Oh Finally, I was waiting for when you drop the act and now here we are." You laugh, her empty threats not stirring you in the slightest.

Having enough, Irene raises her hand to slap you but your reflexes ground her, holding her hand you attack her eyes, stopping mere inces away. Her eyes widen in fear, as she stands in absolute terror. "One wrong move, and I will kill you."

She trembles, "You call me a whore but the real slut is you who has seven men as her husband's."

"Atleast I am not running behind other's husband. Poor you, living as Mistress and already soiled and ruined. If in future the Prince leaves you-" You mock her, hitting a nerve when she grits her teeth.

"What's happening here?" A voice thunders, as you quickly back away. Bowing down to the King that strides in with his guards on tail. Beside you Irene defiantly falls on the ground, disregarding all your warnings. Such an actor.

"My King, Princess hurt me. She wants to kill me, please save me." She wails, as you cringe at her act. Wrong move women.

The King raises an eyebrow, looking at you who shakes her head. She is really looking for trouble. Testing your patience, all because she was the beloved of Jin. You internally smirk, you will let her know today who holds the real power. Enough of the drama.

Hearing the commotion, Prince Namjoon and Prince Hoseok also arrive at the scene.

"Is it true?" King looks at you, as you feel the gaze of others burning upon you.

"Why would I? She is Nobody. It's actually her who thought it would be nice to fuck my husband in front of me. My King, she was inside my inner quarters the other day and she dared to soil my bed alongside Prince Jin. I was just warning her not to push her luck. And lastly, I have to defend myself if someone tries to raise their hands on me." You speak, keeping your mind calm and tone strict.

You didn't want to bring their act up but she left you with no options. If in future, she wishes to harm you than its better if you steer clear of her. For proof you called for the maids and guards that were present while this happened. They gave the same reply, even revealing your act of burning the sheets and everything that had soiled your room.

Irene gasps, "No, she is lying My King. Believe me."

"And If you had a problem then why didn't you say it the moment it happened? Why wait for now?" Namjoon interjects, clearly supporting Irene. You scoff.

Another thorn on way. Very well.

You smile at him, "I wanted to have peace with the Mistress of my husband but she clearly doesn't want that. Instead she is showing her powers, acting on wimp just because Prince Jin supports her. No maid is allowed inside the royal library, unless they are cleaning it and yet here she was. I warned her to stay in her place and in return she threatened to unalive me. Just because Prince Jin loves her." You mock, eyes glaring down at the women who refuses to look up. But judging by how tightly she is fisting her hand, you know she is furious. What a sight to see.

Hoseok looks astonished, "You threatened to kill the Princess, Irene? Is that true?"

Irene shakes her head, but that all stops when the King speaks, "Enough, you crossed your limits today. Guards, throw her out for she dared to raise a hand on a royal and moreover she had the audacity to enter the inner quarters of the future Queen. Going as far as threatening her—" he paused, looking down at the women his son dares to love, "But not before whipping her 200 times."

Just then, you heard hurried footsteps. Looking up, your met with a furious Jin and behind him an equally mad Yoongi who is accompanied by other Princes. "Father, leave Irene. She did nothing." Rushing towards her, he is about to take her in his arms but is stopped abruptly by the King who shows him a hand that clearly indicates him to stay right where he is.

"My decision is final. She is nothing but a servant slash Mistress. As far as I know, the law doesn't allow servants to attack Royals which she did and you even brought her to your wife's chambers to—" he stops, taking a deep breath to calm down the fury which is eager to erupt on his elder son. "—Shameless. Your blinded by her, how would you know what she does huh? Guards take her out, and If the Prince does something behind my back then kill the cause. Once and for all."

It was as if ice cold water was smacked against Jin who stared at his father with a blank look. Irene is taken by guards, while you try hard not to fidget. You know Jin won't leave you for this. Never. And damn you for not stopping the punishment of Irene. Your mind berates you. Jin used to spend the night at Irene's and in return you had a peaceful sleep.

But now your doomed.

Tch. Gone was your peaceful sleep. Better keep an eye on this raging Bull who might kill you in sleep.

The commotion soon dies down, as the King is escorted out. You also join him, cause only a fool will stay inside with seven wolves who are waiting to rip you apart. Anika would have your head for this. She told you to befriend the Princes but here you are, already making more enemies.

It's night by the time your done with your royal duties. Your returning to your quarters, limbs aching for some relief. Anika has found you, and she is berating you for the chaos that you didn't cause. You ignore her.

A maid rushes to you, "Princess, please do something. Prince Jin has gone mad and is destroying everything inside the inner quarters. He is also very drunk."

You sigh, nodding at her as you step inside your chamber. Not before ordering others to stay outside. The door is closed behind you, as you walk towards the man who throws the jug of water across the room with a force that cracks it in half.

Sensing your presence, Jin grins like a maniac.

"I was waiting for you."

You frown, already hating the stench of alcohol that graces you the second he moves close. Backing away, you maintain a dignified distance for you know Jin is not in his right mind.

Getting hurt is the last thing in your mind, especially when your dead tired.

Looking down, you show respect for the Prince. "Sorry, but we will talk later."

"You—," Jin comes to grab you, but before that you attack his pressure point. Knocking him out cold.

Going limp, Jin tumbles down. But before he reaches the rock hard ground, you grab him and pull him up.

Daylight comes as a fresh ocean current carrying birdsong and the aroma of petals, her rays deep-soaked in the love and laughter of the ages. But to Jin, it was like a wake up call for the pounding headache that he feels. Groaning, he turns around the soft bed. Opening his eyes, he is met with the unfamiliar room. It suddenly clicks.

Getting up, he is furious to know that you knocked him out. The whole room is back to how it was- neat, elegant and serene. Unlike the destruction that he matted out in drunk stupor.

He will kill you today for sure.

[nerdestiwrites]

predator and prey chapter five (hazbin hotel reader insert)

It was around two in the morning when Velvette finally made it around to your apartment. The time between her arrival and your return from the hotel allowed you to pack some of your items up into a small duffle bag, clothes, a couple of mementos that included a framed picture of you and Velvette, as well as a few items you may have stolen from people so they’d come asking for them back. 

The Social Media Overlord didn’t knock, she didn’t need to as you had given her a key to your apartment. She walked in, her eyes focused on her phone, an annoyed look plastered on her face as she grumbled and cursed. She let herself fall on your couch, her legs kicking up and stretching out the entire thing as the phone slipped from her hands, landing on the floor just near her.

“That fucker Vox is making me go to this stupid meeting alone. I didn’t even want to go in the first place!” She sighed as her eyes drifted across the room to look at you, her nose turning up slightly at your choice of outfit. In an instant, it was changed to something that was trending at the moment. 

That was usual behavior from the other demon that it didn’t even phase you any longer. At least now Velvette stuck to closer to your style rather than changing it completely, and you weren’t one to say no to an upgrade to clothes. The benefit of not having any sentimental value added to anything you wore since those items were all back on Earth that you’d never see again. 

“Speaking of which, you still haven’t explained how you know about the meeting.” She pointed out to you and you snickered. 

You stood from the loveseat you had been sitting in lazily scrolling through your phone until she arrived and grabbed the bag that you had sat on the coffee table. “This meeting between us isn’t about how I know. It’s about how I can help you in the meeting.” You began and walked over, Velvette moving her legs up closer toward her so you could take a seat on the couch next to her. Your words caught her attention and she stared at you with interest and looked at the bag with curiosity. 

“The most recent extermination brought up something rather… interesting I’ll say. Got word of it and had to investigate it. That’s when I stumbled upon this.” You held the bag up, not allowing the Overlord to take it just yet. No, you needed those simple but very powerful words to come from her mouth first. Then you’d let her have the bag and what it contained to do with what she pleased. You knew she’d take it to the meeting, you were banking on it. 

Velvette stared at the bag, you could see her mind working, trying to figure out if she could determine what was inside that was so important that you’d bring up the Overlord meeting that was happening tomorrow. Making a deal was always stupid, she knew that, but it wasn’t her soul you were asking for, it was a favor, and you two were friends, so how bad of a favor could it be? “A favor-” She started off, reaching for the bag.

“A simple favor, to be repaid whenever I wish.” You finished and held the bag away and your free hand out for her to shake, giving a perfectly innocent smile. 

“Yes, I’ve heard your pitch to a few of Val and Vox’s employees.” She huffed. It was the curiosity of the unknown that seemed to be really pulling at her. Something that came up during an extermination. Her hand met yours and you two shook, the deal being sealed, the power exchanged shaking the building your apartment was in. It wasn’t every day that an Overlord made a deal that wasn’t the Overlord making the deal.

The bag was exchanged and Velvette immediately brought out its contents, holding the angels head by the horns, eyes widening in surprise and shock. She looked at the head, then at you, and then back to the head, blinking twice before placing it down on the coffee table, letting it lull to the side. “How the fuck do you have this? How did this even happen?”

“That’s what you’re going to have to ask at the meeting tomorrow. It was found in Carmillas domain.” You informed haphazardly as if the topic was no longer interesting to you. You leaned back on the couch and kicked your legs up onto the coffee table, your feet gently kicking the head to the side to move it out of your way. “I have my theories but nothing concrete yet.”

“And you’re not going to share?” She pouted at the realization that the head was the only thing that she would be getting out of the deal, nothing more. Your smile gave her the answer she already knew. “Bitch.”

You smirked and gave a small shrug before abruptly standing from your couch. You again held your hand out for the other to take, this time in a friendly manner, to help her off the couch as well. “Right! Well, always good to see you, I do have other things I’ve got on my plate at the moment so we’re gonna both be leaving the apartment.”

Velvette took your hand and pulled herself up, scooping her phone up off the floor in the process. The look of curiosity didn’t leave her face as she stared at you, eyes narrowed slightly at your words. “Other plans this late at night?” 

“Yup! Other plans not involving you, sorry.” You scooped the head up, placed it into the bag, and handed the bag back over to the Overlord who took it from you, now seeming slightly suspicious of you. That was the first time that look crossed her face, you realized, and it just caused you to smile and walk toward the door. You scooped up the duffle bag from beside the door and motioned for her to follow.

The two of you walked out of the apartment together, you gave Velvette a side hug before waving goodbye as you watched her enter a black car. You hummed once and turned, going back to the hotel to hopefully get at least some sleep that night. You were exhausted from the day and knew that you’d have a lot of pretending to do the next now that you were going to be staying with the Princess. 

When you returned to the hotel, you saw Charlie and Vaggie both returning to bed, looking like they had been awoken from sleep for one reason or another. You raised an eyebrow at them before giving a slight wave, shifting the bag on your shoulder. Vaggies look told you that she was shocked to see you actually returned but Charlie seemed more than ecstatic. “I’m really tired, so we can talk tomorrow!” You said quickly, stopping her from speaking up. 

Vaggie seemed relieved by your words and almost mouthed a thank you before pulling the princess down the hallway and around a corner. It was then that you realized you hadn’t ever been shown where your room had been set up like Charlie had told you it had, and you stood in the middle of the hallway slightly clueless for a moment. You furrowed your eyebrows as you started to walk down the hall in the opposite direction that the two had gone, figuring you could just crash in any empty room for the night and get your official room in the morning. 

However, before you managed to slip into one of the empty rooms, the door looked like it needed to be replaced because of the mold and slightly broken hinges, the static in the air shifted. You could see the outline of the Radio demon standing off to the side at the end of the hallway where you just came from, his head cocked to the side just slightly as he studied you, as if he was expecting to surprise you. When you didn’t react to his presence like he had been expecting, he took a step forward. “Hello dear! Charlie was hoping you’d return so she asked me to make sure you got to the correct room! Though I do have to say I am shocked to see you return so late, makes one wonder what you were doing all that time away.”

“Packing.” You said simply, not playing into his game as you held up your duffle bag, raising an eyebrow as if to challenge him. You took a step forward and smiled politely. “Thanks for showing me to my room.” You said as he turned and began to walk, not waiting to see if you would follow. 

It was a brief walk down the hallway, and Alastor stopped and pointed with his microphone to a door. It wasn’t falling off its hinges like the room you were going to choose, the paint was still chipping, however. You nodded, and opened the door, peering inside. Clean, the bed was made, and there were even two little pieces of mints on the pillow, causing you to smile and chuckle to yourself. You hadn’t been serious about the mints and yet there they were, waiting for you. 

“Do you often change into multiple different outfits a day or is it only an occurrence when you’re meeting different people?” Alastor asked offhandedly, taking you slightly by surprise. You had forgotten about Velvette changing your clothes, it hadn’t even crossed your mind how that might look to others. 

You hesitated, for just a moment before you answered. “You know how the streets of Hell can be. Messy, disgustingly so. Got something on me and didn’t want to have to walk in that. So I changed.” But your hesitancy was all Alastor seemed to know that you weren’t telling the truth.

He made a low noise, the radio frequency around his voice thickened for just a moment, the shadow behind him having his antlers extend for a second before everything returned back to normal. “How fascinating! Well, get some well-deserved rest, tomorrow is a very important day! First official day for two new residents of the hotel, I am sure Charlie will have a bunch of activities planned. You do not want to miss out!”

He left without another word, leaving you alone in your new room. You watched him turn and walk down the hall for a second before walking into the room. You took in a sharp breath, shook your head, and dropped your duffle bag. Your entire body felt tense and you hadn’t even realized it until he had left. You were exhausted. You wanted to sleep. You knew you weren’t getting much sleep that night, your mind raced with a million different thoughts.

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tags: @rl800 @luleck

[whumperofworlds]

Whumptober 2024 Day 13 (ALT): My Hero

Now on AO3!

TAGS: @gala1981 @whumptober-archive @crash-bump-bring-the-whump @rebelxwriter @expressionless-fr

@fourwingedsnake @whumble-beeee @whumpninja @kingxlinkwrites

CWS: blood, beaten up, whumpee x caretaker, male whumpee, male caretaker, multiple whumpers, slight strong language.

FANDOM: Final Fantasy I

A/N: N/A

I only own Drusus and Keme. Everything else belongs to Square Enix.

ENJOY!

_____

Familial curse / Multiple whumpees / "Death will do us part / ALT: No-holds-barred beatdown

Keme giggled gleefully as he walked down the streets of Cornelia, a bag slung over his shoulder. It was a special day for himself and for his husband, Drusus; their fifth anniversary. And Keme wanted to surprise his sweet beloved with a special gift, along with ingredients to make his beloved's favorite vegetable stew. He was so happy and grateful that he met Drusus; he had a love at first sight with the monk, and while Drusus was hesitant in opening his heart to the thief, Drusus grew to fall in love with him as well, and they began dating.

Keme never forgot that night. How Drusus brought him to a hill to see the blue moon that appeared once every year. How they stared at it. Then Drusus' proposal. Keme was in near tears when his lover proposed to him, and he accepted it happily. He was so lucky to know his Drussy, and they were happy together ever since.

Keme hummed a familiar tune as he walked down the street, a bounce in his step. He heard laughter nearby, but he didn't bother looking. Surely there was some guys—

He heard a familiar cry, along with a sickening crack. Keme froze, his eyes wide in fear, before he turned to see what was going on.

In the alleyway, were three filthy men, all bent down to a figure that was on the ground. They punched and kicked the figure, spitting out insults along with growls to give up their Gil.

One man took the person by the hair, pulling them up to face him. The man spat on their face, to which they coughed.

"You gonna give it up or what?" The man growled.

"Fuck off." A deep gruff voice growled back.

Keme nearly dropped his bag then, as his eyes grew wider.

Oh Cosmos. That's Drusus.

Another sickening crack, and Keme cringed when he heard his beloved screaming. His nose was likely broken then, and Drusus was then thrown back on the ground.

The three men continued to beat him; kicks and punches met Drusus' body as he curled up into a ball to defend himself. Keme knew that his husband was strong, but with three men who were possibly armed, he couldn't just leave him there.

He glared, gritting his teeth as he dropped his bag, as he approached the three men beating his beloved. How dare they hurt his husband. How dare they make him suffer. Drusus was a sweet, gentle man who did nothing wrong. These men would pay.

When he was close enough, Keme tapped one man on the shoulder. The man stopped his flurry of punches and kicks before turning to Keme.

Without warning, Keme landed a powerful punch aimed at his nose, breaking it. Blood spurted, and he cried out in pain as he staggered back.

"What the hell?!" Another man cried, as he and the other two turned to face the furious thief. Upon seeing Keme and their friend holding his bleeding nose, they stepped back in shock.

"Oh," Keme sneered, "you can dish it, but can't take it?"

The man with the bleeding nose glared at him, hatred in his eyes. "Who the fuck do you think you are?!" He yelled, "We're in the middle of robbing some dumbass!"

"First off," Keme growled, pulling out his knife, "he's not a dumbass. Second off, that is my husband you're messing with."

The three men, upon seeing the knife, stepped further back, all of their eyes wide in shock.

Drusus was the most shocked of them all, as he watched the scene happening in front of him. Worry etched in his mind. What if these guys hurt Keme trying to defend him? He tried to stand, but gritted his teeth in pain as he fell back on the ground.

"Y-you're scrawny!" One man cried, "How can you take us all on?! We'll squash you flat, no problem!"

Keme sighed, an unimpressed look on his face, before he held up another hand. Chanting under his breath, a small Fire spell appeared in his palm, casting a warm glow in the dark alleyway.

The three men, realizing that they were outmatched, ran to the back of the alleyway, climbed over the fence, and disappeared into the shadows. Fear was etched on all of their faces as they fled.

"Yeah, you better run!" Keme yelled, his glare intense as the spell in his hand dissipated. Pocketing the knife, Keme overheard his beloved groaning in pain. His glare softened into a concerned look, as he knelt down to help Drusus on his feet. Seeing the bruises and cuts littering his body made the thief flinch. Drusus didn't deserve all this.

"You okay?" Keme asked, worry laced in his voice.

Drusus merely nodded, and he glanced down at a bag on the ground that Keme failed to notice. The monk cursed under his breath and he bent down to pick it up. The bag was filthy, and Keme could hear something inside—it sounded like glass that was broken into pieces.

Drusus looked inside his bag, and he gritted his teeth as he cursed again.

"Babe?" Keme questioned.

"Your gift…" Drusus muttered, his voice filled with sadness.

Keme pursed his lips, glancing in the bag out of curiosity. Inside were the remains of a golden dagger, its blade shattered. The handle was the only thing that was left unbroken.

"They…" Drusus whispered, his voice cracking, "they thought I was rich because I bought this for you… and they tried to steal my money…"

Keme could see a single tear fall down his face, and his heart shattered into pieces. He hated to see his husband cry—it was something he didn't want to see.

Frowning, Keme took Drusus' hand and squeezed it. "Love… it's not your fault."

"I'm sorry…" Drusus sniffled. "I wanted to surprise you for our anniversary, and it…"

"It's okay," Keme whispered, pulling Drusus into a hug. Hearing his beloved's heartbeat as he snuggled in Drusus' chest, he continued, "it's not your fault at all. Those guys were the ones at fault. They wanted Gil, and they thought you were their best target. Besides…" He released Drusus, wiping away a small drop of blood from his cheek, "I'm just glad that you're okay after that."

Drusus gulped away a sob, as he smiled slightly at his beloved's words. Even though Drusus was hurt, at least he had Keme by his side.

"Love…" Drusus whispered, pulling Keme into another hug. "Thank you. For this and for everything. You're my hero."

"Aw, babe, you'd do the same for me!"

Despite that situation, both Drusus and Keme enjoyed their fifth anniversary of love and devotion. They both knew that they would have each other's backs, and would protect each other if needed.