#with a quirk like mine? think children think

[introspectivememories]

everybody gets on shouto's case for being arrogant before the sports festival but like was he wrong to be arrogant???? if i was trained since 5 and then i enrolled in a school for hero hopefuls who have just started training their quirk, their body, and their minds for the job, god i'd be so fucking arrogant too. everything his peers are learning, shouto already knows!! flying spin kick? boo, boring!! he learned that at six. incorporating your quirk into your fighting? lame, yawn! he's been doing that his whole life. fighting quirkless? his father may be a piece of shit but endeavor is nothing if not thorough.

[holylulusworld]

I’m your daddy now (3) - Lloyd Hansen

Summary: You reached the end of the rope.

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x Singlemom!Reader (plussized)

Characters: Ari Levinson

Warnings: plus-sized reader, needy Lloyd, Lloyd being Lloyd, groping, daddy Lloyd (not the kinky kind of daddy), some fluff

A/N: This is part of my Traders of love (lust) masterlist series. It’s the prequel to TOL - Like a virgin (Bucky Barnes) and tells the story about Lloyd and his assistant sunshine. It will lead toward Ari’s story. We will see their relationship throughout all other stories. 

Catch up here: TOL - I’m your daddy now (2)

Ari exhales sharply. He’s not amused by Lloyd’s behavior.

The mustache-wearing bastard is shamelessly groping your ass while purring dirty nothings in your ear. “Plump. Sweet. Begging for cream.”

“Lloyd!” You swat his hand away and straighten your skirt blouse. “We have company. You can’t do such a thing while people are around.” You pucker your lips before striding toward the door. “Remember, we have a business to do.”

Lloyd licks his lips. He watches you walk out of the room, groaning loudly. “A hell of a woman I got myself.”

“Congrats,” Ari rolls his eyes. He knows about Lloyd’s endless stream of women roaming his bedroom. “For how long?”

“I’m gonna marry that chubby bug,” Lloyd grins before he tugs at his pants. He’s got a raging hard-on thanks to the woman ruling his mind and office. – You. It’s even worse since he got a taste of you and your perfect cunt. “She’s perfection.” Lloyd grins as he sniffs at his fingers. “She’s got a cute little shit too. Gotta be a daddy for the poor boy. His old man is a deadbeat.”

“Perfection,” Ari doubts that Lloyd will keep his word and marry you, but he says nothing. He came here for a reason, not to fight with Lloyd. “You should be careful if children are involved.

“I told you,” Lloyd grits his teeth, “I’m going to be a daddy for the little shit. I consider renaming him. Lloyd Jr. would be so cute, don’t you think?” He nods to himself. “I only need to convince my sunshine.”

“Lloyd, I came here for a second time because you want to discuss the details of my request later. I assume you had your hands full with your assistant,” Ari crosses his arms over his wide chest. He quirks a brow and waits for Lloyd to grovel.

“What can I do for you, my sexy friend?” Lloyd chuckles. He just loves to toy with people. Even more, since he found you. “I thought everything got discussed last time. My sunshine and I will join one of the dance classes and check your girl out. Maybe she needs a little money for her studio.”

“Lloyd, this is different from the other girls I paid. I want her to be mine,” Ari hesitates to talk about his feelings to a man offering women to wealthy men. He doesn’t believe Lloyd understands the concept of love.

“Love sweet love,” Lloyd smiles dopily. “I’m telling you, spring let me lose my mind. If only she wasn’t wearing those tight pants when I met her. I wouldn’t be so into that slutty little cupcake I call my own.”

“You are disgusting,” Ari sneers at Lloyd’s behavior. “I’m talking about love, not your libido. You’re lucky if your assistant doesn’t cut your balls off in your sleep.”

“That’s actually a great idea,” you say while walking back inside the office. “I got coffee for you, Mr. Levinson, and a disgustingly sweet coffee monstrosity for you, boss.”

Lloyd dips his head to glance at Ari. “I love it when she calls me boss. Gets me rock-hard every time. You wouldn’t believe how much I’m struggling to not have my way with her right now.”

You place the coffee on the small coffee table. “Lloyd!” You tut and glare at him when he tries to grope your ass. “Christ, you’re unbelievable. We have a client here. He wants our help.”

“All work and no fun,” Lloyd glumly replies. He pouts while staring at your tits. You decided on a light summer dress with a high neckline to avoid catching Lloyd’s attention. No such luck. “I wonder if I can make you forget about business.”

“Boss, do your job,” you point your index finger at him. “I already got a child to take care of. I don’t need a second one.”

“I like that one,” Ari throws in. He slowly sips his coffee while watching you and Lloyd interact. “Can we get back to my problem now?”

You nod and turn to leave Lloyd and Ari to their business. You’re still not used to the kind of business you’re involved in since you accepted the job offer. Lloyd takes the opportunity to grab a handful of your ass.

“Lloyd!” You huff and stomp away. It’s not worth it to get mad at him. He’ll only get horny the more you yell at him. Lloyd is a kinky bastard after all. “I should cut his balls off one day. But not his cock. It’s the best part of him.”

“You forgot my mustache,” Lloyd calls after you. “You know you love it, sunshine.” He turns toward Ari. “She loves it.”

“So…” You watch Lloyd rummage around his office. He curses under his breath as he goes on his hands and knees to look for something under the couch. “What are you doing?”

“I dropped something important,” he stretches his arm to reach something under the couch. You step closer to get a better look at his ass. It’s now or never. Payback for all the groping.

Smirking you grab his ass with both hands, groping him roughly through his slacks. You have to admit, he’s got a nice ass.

“Sunshine,” he purrs. “We don’t have time to get down and dirty. I need you to help me with something.”

“I swear,” you slap his ass, “if you get your dick out again and call it a surprise, I’ll follow Ari’s suggestion and cut it off.”

Lloyd huffs as he slowly gets back up. He hastily stuffs something in his pocket before looking you up and down. “He said balls, not my dick,” Lloyd smirks when you take a step back. “I see you can’t keep your hands off my perfect ass, huh? Do you want to feel me up some more?”

“We wanted to talk about your client. You remember your client, Ari Levinson, right? You mentioned a dance class and today he talked about it again. What is your plan now?”

“We’ll attend his chosen girl’s dance class and will find out more about her. That woman tries to make my job harder. She’s not on social media and pays cash,” Lloyd pouts. “I thought this would be an easy job, but no, Ari doesn’t want me to threaten her business. It would’ve been so much easier if he just played the knight in shiny armor after manipulating her business.”

“You’re so romantic.”

“When did you have the time to buy a book?”

“Romance is for losers, Y/N. I believe in horniness and my pussy-detector,” Lloyd points at his crotch. “If little Lloyd likes you, it’s true love.” He grins, proud of himself. “Come on, let’s get home. The little shit is waiting for his daddy to read him one of the new books I bought.”

“It’s called online shopping,” he huffs. “I don’t have the time to waste my time in a dusty bookstore.”

You quirk a brow. After you let him do unspeakable things to you for the first time, Lloyd is unstoppable. He wanted you and your son to move in with him. Lloyd even hired an interior designer to turn two of his guestrooms into a bedroom and a playroom for your son.

If only you could believe him that he wants to be more than the guy stuffing your pussy.

“Fine,” you sigh, too tired to argue. “The babysitter wants to go home too. Let’s go. We still need to talk about Mr. Levinson and your plan.”

He wraps one arm around your waist and kisses your cheek. “Does going home include a little action for the tiger in my pants?”

“I thought it was a python?”

“Who cares?” He groans. “There’s a whole jungle in my pants and it all belongs to you, sunshine…”

“…and then the little ant kicked the evil toad’s ass,” Lloyd closes the book, a big smirk on his face. “Son, how did you like the book?”

“Cool,” your son gasps. He’s still mesmerized by all the voices Lloyd imitated while reading the book he found online to your son. “I like the ant the most.”

“Tomorrow, we will read about his next adventure. I bet he’ll kick more ass.” Lloyd runs his hand over your son’s head, gently patting the little boy. “…can’t believe that deadbeat left a cute little shit like you.”

“Lloyd!” You tut. “You promised to stop calling my son little shit!”

“Our son,” he corrects. “How about you wait in our bedroom for me and the python fighting my pants? I got something to discuss with Lloyd Jr.”

You kiss your son’s forehead and wish him a good night. He refuses to sleep in your bedroom since he has his own room at Lloyd’s house. “We won’t rename my son. This is my last word.”

“If only…” Lloyd grins. “Now…go to bed mommy. We men need to talk about something…”

You reluctantly leave the room, looking over your shoulder before you reach the door. “No swear words, Lloyd.”

“I wouldn’t dream of swearing next to our baby boy.”

“You’re a bad liar.”

“I love you too, sugar cake,” he grins. “I’ll be right with you.”

The moment you are out of the room Lloyd gets something out of his pocket. He shows it to your son, smirking.

“What do you say, little shit? Will she like the ring?”

Tags in reblog.

[serxinns]

Lets play a Love game!~

A clas 1a x reader special

A/n: ITS FINALLY DONE its been in my drafts for months had to make a few repairs here and there but it's done!

Warnings: mentions of stalking, possessive, yandere behavior, obsessive behavior, reader having a panic attack, almost throwing up, violence and more if you arent comfortable with these topics don't read if not read at your own risk

A crackle came from the villain named Red Virus you and some of your classmates were having difficulties defeating him he kept teleporting and shooting out glitch beams that could make the quirk dysfunctional to the user which could be dangerous the villain teased you as Mina tried shooting acid at the villain and Tokoyami using dark shadow and Denki using electricity but none was working so you had a plan

"Tokoyami!" You glanced at him with a determined nod and he grabbed you flying towards the battlefield and directly toward the villain, the red virus saw this and summoned glitchy sharp rods and threw them toward the 2 of you tokoyami barely avoided most of them except 2, and shot down with a grunt "TOKOYAMI!" You yelled as he was falling but used ur quirk to lunge at the unexpected villain and tackle him while he was losing control in the air and your classmates looking worriedly at you,

You used your quirk to make him fall to the ground but before you went down he grabbed your face hard and activated his quirk "Y/N!!1! 1" your classmates called trying to catch u while falling but you weren't giving up with the energy you still have left you use your super move on him which made him fell unconscious and the two of you crashed into the ground, you takoyami and Denki quickly ran to your side and put both of your arms around their necks helping you walk easily

The rest of your classmates surrounded them asking if you were ok checking for any more injuries and glaring at the villain while he was being dragged away in the police card without sending one final glare and scowl at you before the police door was shut on him and being drove away to the police, you were a bit confused but brushed it off of him just being salty of losing to a hero in training, "y/n San you need to go take care of those injuries and especially if that villain managed to get a hit on you!" Iida said while waving his arm "Guys im fine but for some reason, he didn't dysfunction my quirk and was surprised" "Glasses are right dumbass you need to get those treated and IM taking you to the nurse"

"Cmon bakubro you took them last week!

"Yea it's suppose to be my turn *kero*"

"No mines!"

Everyone started to fight like children fighting over a single toy as much as it was weirdly entertaining to you, you always wondered why your classmates were so desperate to want to spend time with you it's so werid now that your slowly realizing it but that's another time to think about it

"Mwah!" A big kiss mark was stained on your cheek your body felt a bit tired but at least it wasn't aching "there now you be careful now seriously don't be so reckless!" Recovery girl said with a soft but stern tone you nodded and grabbed a lolipop she gave you and went out suddenly izuku and his squad surrounded you and talking at once about if you were ok momo and iida both grabbing your arm seeing if you were ok but you pushed them off

"guys I'm fine really im just gonna go to sleep a bit early if that's ok?" They groaned wanting to spend time with you but agreed you signed in relief you went in your dorm and quickly fell asleep

You were awoken by a bad dream you were sweating everywhere and breathing heavily "the fuck kind of dream was that..." your thoughts were racing you held your head as you think your dream,

the virus and you were fighting every time you kept hitting him he kept laughing nonstop to the point it was ringing in your ears making an ache in your head began spinning that you had to stop moving the red virus guy slowly walked towards you a sinister look on his face and roughly grabbed you by the neck and lifted you up, no matter how much you resited and cussed at him

He then pulled you closer to your ear and whispered "I curse you with a fate that you will wish you never defeated me you'll be crawing back begging and maybe even hoping that this curse will go away :)" the villain then laughed maniacally while you finally pushed him off and started running untill something hit you in the back hard like a bullet and your vision started to fade into darkness

The words the man told you were still hanging in the back of your mind you slowly walked towards to the kitchen in the common room to get yourself a drink, after looking around in the kitchen you found your favorite soda you saved earlier you swiftly grabbed the soda and quickly went back to your room not even a few minutes you started feeling dizzy and your eye started hurting alot you felt to the ground clutching your eye and crying

That's when you woke up panting frantically looking around your dorm, sweat beaming down your face clothes drenched with sweat, your whole body was shivering you almost fell off the bed you checked the time and it was 7:49 AM "What the fuck kind of dream, nightmare whatever! was that.." you head was spinning with questions, thoughts and just jumble up messes you were sure it was a dream right? It has to be that's when your eye began to ache you groaned you went to the bathrooms to take a quick shower maybe that will clam you down

After the shower you walked over to brush your teeth, you took once glance at the mirror and froze your pupils were normally e/c but now the left one had a red heart on it with a line across it you start freaking out wondering was thus some sort of sick joke from Denki, Mineta anyone!, You tried rubbing it off, picking at it just anything to get whatever was off you, heck you almost tried to stab it put with your toothbrush but you weren't That crazy! so you had two choices, one just roll with it for the rest of the day then go to the nurses office to see what the fuck is going on, or two you find a eye patch and dismiss any suspicious questions from your classmates..

A sudden knock on the door startled you, "y/n? You done in there?" A sudden voice rang out it was Mina she started banging again but this time it was strangely more eager.. you hesitantly opened the door to see her she was grinning ear to ear at you and then grabbed your arm a bit to tight "cmon bestie it's almost time for class!" She chimes basically dragging you to class as she started chatting her head off to you not noticing your eye and the bewildered expression when a sudden voice rang out in your head with some info shown

MINA ASHIDO

Age:15-16

Yandere:possessive and clingy, and easily jealous

Tip: make sure to not anger her :)

You stared not being able to utter out the words to describe what your just seeing rn only a "what. the. actual. fuck." A yandere? The fuck is that? And why did it describe her personality like that they weren't true? Maybe..actually now to think about it, her behavior did started changing throughout the months you were at school..like when you were talking with Mina once day and sato pulled you away to let you tried some of his latest sweets you swore you felt like someone was staring intensely at you-no not you at Sato you looked back a bit seeing Mina's smile faded replacing with a ice cold stare it derided you out a bit but there was no way Mina was that crazy!

So you ignored it struggling to close it off and you successfully did by blinking twice, once you made it to class you then pulled away from mina's hand and rushed into your seat confusing her a bit but brushed it off you were then greeted by iida as he walked up to you "y/n you were almost late! this isn't like you!" He said waving his arms around like he was chopping the air "sorry iida had a horrible nightmare" iida then started lecturing you and recommending some options for you to not have a nightmare and did one of his suggestions was sleepijg in his bed? you rubbed your eyes a bit causing yet another info to pop out

Tenya Iida

Age: 15-16

Yandere: protective, stalker, and observance

Tip: watch out for him he could put a tracker on you ;)

Your eyes couldn't beleive it nor could it looked away "iida..him a stalker!" Inside you were all cool but on the inside you were freaking the fuck out should you tell someone? Calling the police?! Endless thoughts ran throught your mind untill a voice snapped you out "y/n you ok you zone out a bit darling?" You looked over to see Iida with a confused expression as your classmates started staring as well

They're all staring could it adoration? Or lovesick? :3 oooo or maybe jealousy

You swore you wanted to punch whoever was in your head. also, wait, did Iida just call you darling? This is getting weird now, really weird, and how is nobody noticing your eye? You thoughts were interrupted by a slap on the ruler Aizawa glared at his class "Stop your talking and listen we have an important lesson and your chatting isn't so shush up and look at the board"

After a boring day of class, it was lunchtime, and you went to look for a spot until Ochako jumped out of nowhere in front of you. "Hey y/n, I wonder if you wanna eat with me alone, just the two of us?" You startled back away a bit and smiled nervously "No thanks I'm just gonna sit alone-" That was until another info came out

Ochako Uraraka

Age:15-16

Yandere: delusional, worshipper and clingy!

Tip: watch your choice of words or she'll twist your words otherwise :3

"Not ochako too...Seriously what am I even going on, and what is even a fucking yandere!?" You were so focused on trying to rub your eye away that you didn't notice Ochako and Izuku calling your name in a panic to the point Izuku grabbed your arm, restraining you. "y/n San, are you alright? Is something wrong with your eye?" Izuku frantically grabbed your face and started observing it

Izuku Midoriya

Age:15-16

Yandere: stalker.., observer, and delusional

Tip: he knows everything about everyone, but when it comes to you, he has a whole notebook about it, and it's not just about your quirk. Try not to be dumb and give him ur information now. He'll use that to his advantage! :3

You quickly pushed him off and ran out of the cafeteria and into the bathroom, not caring about the confused and concerned looks of your classmates. You couldn't believe it yourself. Your friend Izuku was a fucking creep!? You looked at yourself in the mirror, observing the eye again; why is this happening to you? What did you do to deserve this? Why are your classmates suddenly becoming these crazy freaks!? You start breathing fast tears running down your eyes

After minutes of crying and reassuring yourself, you wipe away your tears, your eyes still red, tho you hoped nobody noticed, and start making your way out of the bathroom until you hear a knock. "y/n darling, are you ok in there?" A familiar voice called out to you; you cleared your throat, making sure you didn't sound like you were crying. "Y-Yeah! im just fine I needed some time alone the cafeteria was overwhelming me with all those people and loud noises heh.." you lied trying to make it more convincing as you heard silence "Oh..do you want me to accompany you in case you get overwhelmed again?" He questioned

You thought about it for a moment tho you couldn't trust anyone but...what if most or even some of your classmates weren't crazy plus Aoyama never showed any signs of psychotic or crazy behavior so maybe you could trust him.. you slowly and hesitantly open the door to see Aoyama looking concerned "cmon then training period is about to start!" Without a word, Aoyama quickly took your hand and dashed down the hallways and into training untill you saw info yet again making your stomach drop

Yuga Aoyama

Age: 15-16

Yandere: possessive, manipulative, and stalker

Tip: you thought he was normal huh? Nope! He wants you just as much as the others do he just hides it well! Just like how he hides in your room to watch you sleep, be on a watch out! And maybe..check twice before you head off to bed ;p

"O-others..?" You said as Aoyama kept dragging you towards your next class not noticing your terrified expression

You arrived at training and were greeted by everyone. You shook out of your thoughts as Tsuyu ran up to you, "Wanna be my training partner? *kero!*" "um i-" "actually stupid frog this dumbass is training with me!" Bakugo then appeared outta nowhere and start dragging you off but was stopped by momo and Takoyami "and how do you know they wanna train with you? They probably perfer to train with me" Momo said glaring at the explosive blonde "awww but y/n promised to train with us later!!" Dark shadow then appeared out of Takoyami as he agreed "yea irs 2 against one y/n is training with us"

As the 3 students started arguing, more and more students chimed in, fighting over who was going to be their partner. You took a step back, not believing in your eyes.. your classmates were all crazy.. obsessive physios; you tried backing away, not wanting to be in the mix of the chaos the voice in your head spoke once again

Dont feel too down now why wipe a that frown off time glass-! We are gonna be the best of friends

"fuck you!"You heard the voice laugh and laughed at your feared and angered expression it all stopped when you saw another piece of info pop up in front of your face then another...another then another then another multiple Infos kept filling up your view as you desperately tried to stop it you kept blinking hoping for it to go away but it didn't work. Nothing worked the arguing and yelling got louder and louder as the info of each of your classmates kept flooding in it was too much

you collapsed on the ground shaking and trembling, your whole body felt weak, very weak and your stomach started twisting and turning and doing all sorts of backflips causing you to feel nauseous bile burning in the back of your throat as you clutched your mouth as hard as you can and stomach you felt a wave of dizziness finally hitting you and your body collapse with the left of your energy you couldn't move your vision became blurry and the yelling and laughter became muffled the last thing you saw a bunch of blurry figures surrounding you

...

Your vision slowly came back to clear as you slowly open your eyes, you looked around to see that you were in your dorm room?, You noticed you were in your pajamas. Did someone change you!? You thought about freaking out again, "Oh, you're awake?" You gasped quickly, turning to see Aizawa's red eyes staring back at you. "Why are you in my room- and who changed me?" "Woah, brat, relax, recovery girl, and another nurse changed you," Hearing that made you calm down a bit.

"You seem to overuse your quirk of yours causing you to black out" he continued -you looked at him confused "But I didn't use my quirk at all today" "and that's where the confusing part comes in," he said straightening himself up as he took a deep breath "we discovered that you have some sort 2nd quirk we dont know the name of it nor what kind of quirk it is tho" as he was busy talking about this mysterious quirk you are just processing this whole thing a 2nd quirk me!? But ho- you paused finally coming to realization

The villain you fought yesterday

The dream

The voices

It was all becoming clear now... it all made sense now

The red virus was behind it all...you clutched your fist, your face full of tears. "Why...why me!? Why did I have to suffer because of some lowlife!" "L/n is there something the matter," You noticed your Sensei looking at you with a stoic expression you signed "Yeah I just need some time to think about all this stuff" he nodded "I understand you saw him escorting himself out the room closing the door the room was filled with silent once again

You were empty with ideas of what you were gonna do. Your classmates are insane and now you're stuck with this useless quirk or parasite all day

Hey I'm not a parasite :(

You rolled your eyes "Yeah of course you're not anyways I'm going to bed, this day has been shit and my life is probably gonna be shit as well"

Hey, now I never said that I was gonna torture you now, did I? Plus, if it wasn't for me, you wouldn't have noticed that your friends were yandere. I should at least get a thanks! :(

"Again what the absolute fuck is a yandere!?" You began to search on the net for the term yandere and the definition sent a shiver down your spine

a yandere is someone who is lovesick, someone who has been driven to insanity by extreme obsession or love, thus resulting in abnormal behavior if not violence!

"I didn't think they were real I thought it was just an anime trope!" You exclaimed while the voice giggled, "But how do I avoid them? Is there nobody to be trusted?" "Well not exactly! Some yanderes are very trusting and careful with their darling while others...rather keep you all to their elves like a doll in their package!" The voice then explained, "And in order not to have that kind of fate, just follow my rules and do the task. It's easy easy, lemon queasy!" "So you're telling me all I have to do is follow your tips and tasks, and everything will be fine, and I'll end the game?"

"Yep!" You didn't know what the future may hold nor what would be prepared for you till then; you were gonna have to play along with this voice until their satisfaction was needed and find ways to escape your psycho classmates. It will be hard, but it'll all be worth it in the end..you hoped

[zzeraphilm]

little white lies

Shinsou Hitoshi x GN!Reader word count: 2,517 summary: shinsou and y/n's childhood dream was to become heroes, side by side. but as you grow up, reality hits hard, and sometimes lies make the pain easier to bare.

Tiny pitter pattering feet crunched the granite beneath them. Two little children, imagining their powers, capturing villains and saving the world. With their school jumpers tied around their necks, their makeshift capes fluttered in the wind as they ran around the monkey bars. 

“Ah ha! Stay back villain! The twin heroes Étoile and- Hitoshi, did you think of a hero name yet?” Y/N, the taller of the duo, snapped at the little boy beside them. 

“Uhm, not yet I’m still thinking about it.” He mumbled.

“You should do some research! My dad showed me all of the ways heroes can be named! I picked mine because it means star in French! One day I hope to be a shining star that saves people!” 

The thick head of purple hair bobbed up and down, nodding along to the ramblings of his friend. Since his first quirk manifestation, he has been scared to show Y/N his ability, brainwashing isn’t particularly associated with heroism. In Shinsou’s eyes, Y/N was blessed with the perfect quirk to become a hero unlike him. He remembers the day their quirk manifested, they were on their way to school and the scatterbrained Y/N tripped on the cracked pavement, bracing for impact they felt a beam of light pushing them upwards in the air. From their fingertips, the rays of sunlight had curved into a little cloud for them.

They were smiling ear to ear, their happiness so infectious that Shinsou couldn’t help but cheer. From then on, in class Y/N would mould the various rays of light from a lamp or fire into a multitude of objects, shapes and weapons. Their class praised Y/N, knowing their future success as a hero was guaranteed. Shinsou couldn’t continue to be petty around Y/N, his friend was quite literally the light of his life, and he just wanted to remain by their side. 

Towards their second year in Middle School, Y/N’s life took a drastic turn. Their family had to relocate out of their town, meaning Shinsou would be left for the dogs in his high school who would torment his dreams of becoming a hero alongside Y/N. They promised to continue to talk everyday, Y/N would send extensive messages, updates about their life in their new town. How they befriended many people and have started their own Hero Appreciation Club at their new school.

Shinsou buried his jealousy like second skin. He lied through his teeth like it was biological to him. Y/N knew of Shinsou’s quirk, they reassured him that despite everything, he could become an incredible hero. But with the world around him painting him to be the perfect villain to Y/N’s hero, he despised the thought of being a hero. So when on their weekly phone call to each other, as Y/N rambled about attending a hero school and how they wanted to live up to their childhood dream. Shinsou agreed, said he felt the same and promised to live up to Y/N’s wishes. That was when the lies first started. 

Shinsou got into UA’s General Studies course, his grades were excellent and the prestige of UA’s reputation around the world was enough for his parents to agree in his admission. Despite knowing that he had tried so hard to get into the hero course. It was futile, because a useless quirk as his would never work in a battlefield situation. 

Y/N succeeded in getting into the hero course at Shiketsu High School, at the news of their admission into the hero course, Y/N cheered endlessly on the phone with Shinsou. So excited to finally see their dream come to fruition. Upon asking if Shinsou held up his end of the plan, he said he did. That he got into UA. He just didn’t mention which class, so Y/N assumed that everything was fine. That they would soon be reunited as heroes. 

Being a part of the hero class meant Y/N was constantly busy, unlike Shinsou. His high school life was as ordinary as one could have it, he had thought multiple times to drop out and go to a regular school. It would’ve made no difference, yet whenever him and Y/N spoke, he felt guilty. A sticky, black tar-like feeling at the pit of this throat. He didn’t want to disappoint them. He wanted to be the boy that was always by their side, in every dream and every thought. He just wanted to be beside them again. And if that meant he had to maintain this facade of a hero-to-be, then so be it. As long as it remains just between him and Y/N. 

“Then we had to do these 2v2 fights in a hypothetical villain attack. It was crazy, I think I really got into the character of a villain!” They laughed through the screen, as they tilted their head at Shinsou’s nonchalant hummed response. 

“Toshi, how’s your hero studies been going? Do you guys have a lot of written content to cover?” 

Shinsou stopped scribbling in his notebook, he couldn’t have Y/N think that they failed to get into the hero course, and was merely a general studies student. He broke his train of thought with a cough.

“Yeah kinda. Uhh, Mr Aizawa is getting us to make notes on past rescue missions for an assignment.” He had lost count over how many lies he had said, maybe this was the 100th one but he couldn’t remember. Just as long as Y/N believes him. 

“Oh wow! To think Eraserhead would be such a strict guy. My teachers think it’s best to learn through doing, so my hands are too sore to even pick up a pen nowadays!” Before they could finish their sentence they yawned loudly. “Ah, I’m so sorry Toshi, I’ve been so tired lately.” 

Shinsou couldn’t help but smile at how cute they looked trying to stop themselves from falling asleep. 

“Then go to bed stinky. You gotta wake up early tomorrow,” With a light hum and a slow nod with their head, Y/N waved him goodbye. 

Shinsou was afraid of course, if Y/N found out the truth, that their childhood friend was a disgusting liar with a villainous quirk so of course he would manipulate them into believing everything he said. His mind was full of self-sabotaging and self-despising thoughts. He could only shove his mind into his studies to cover up the screams in his head. 

News of the attack in USJ spread across the school like wildfire, the thought of a villain attack sent a shivers down the spine of every student. Of course, the news spread to the rest of the country, with Y/N spamming Shinsou’s phone with endless missed calls and messages. Shit. He was so busy lately with his studies that he forgot about Y/N thinking he was with the hero class. 

12 missed calls from Y/N ☆ Hitoshi answer me Pls Pls answer me R u okay?!?? Pick up my calls!

“Hello?” 

“Hitoshi! Where are you? Are you okay? Did you get hurt? I saw the news and- oh God I can’t even- Please tell me you’re not hurt!” 

Y/N’s mind was spiralling out of control, endless visions of Shinsou hurt and pinned down by a villain flooded their mind. They felt sick with anxiety, they had cried themselves to sleep the night before thinking the worst because Shinsou hadn’t responded to them. 

“I’m okay. I’m fine, luckily I called in sick.” He mumbled. 

Relief flooded over their body, Y/N physically felt the weight of worry be lifted from their soul. 

“Thank goodness, how are your classmates? Are they recovering okay? I’m so sorry you guys had to go through that. You know can always talk to me Toshi. I know we’ve been busy lately to even talk but I’m always here for you.” 

Shinsou felt dirty, he felt disgusting for the lies that he had laid. He had dug himself in his own grave by this point. 

“Yeah, thanks Y/N. I’ve- I’ve got to go there’s some stuff I’ve got to do.”

“Of course Toshi, just message me when you get home! Stay safe.” Click. 

The two tried to speak regularly, but with the stress of their hero activities and Shinsou’s growing guilt turned resentful - they hadn’t spoken in over a month. The UA Sports Festival was fast approaching and Y/N had already been bragging to the rest of their friends about Shinsou. How excited they were to see him on the screen, hyping everyone in the room with their shining persona. Any mention of Shinsou, Y/N instantly beamed and everyone knew from a mile away how much the boy meant to them. The rest of Class 1-A at Shiketsu had their eyes glued to the screen upon the announcement of the UA Sports Festival. Y/N was busy writing their message to Shinsou wishing him luck. Despite the extensive chat history largely consisting of missed calls and messages from Y/N.

Shinsou tried to block out Y/N from his life the last few weeks, muting their messages and focusing their studies. Seeing Class 1-A at UA going about their days ignited a fire within him. He had been so spiteful of himself, for lying to Y/N about his hero journey, it only justified his own beliefs that he couldn’t become a hero like them. To then seeing the danger 1-A posed for the rest of the school, he felt cluster of emotions, ranging from spite, hatred, jealousy, envy and disappointment. Mainly towards himself. His self-sabotaging behaviour had only fuelled his disbelief over himself, seeing others succeed in the dream he and Y/N had made him sick. 

By now, he did not care for Y/N, he had become blinded by his envy. His self-hatred. His new found desire to win. 

“Guys it’s starting!” Y/N had invited their classmates and close friends to their parents’ home to watch the sports festival together. They huddled around the television screen, on the sofa, the floor and even on top of each others laps. Bags of chips and snacks messily spread across the table and multiple cups of juice were handed out. They were all excited to see the infamous Shinsou Hitoshi that their beloved classmate would fawn over. 

The silent shock that cast over the room was deafening, Shinsou walked out along with the general studies class and all of a sudden the attention was towards Y/N. It moved so fast that they barely noticed they had moved onto the next class. Nobody wanted to call Y/N’s bluff and continued to watch in silence. Each move that Shinsou took didn’t live up to the heroic version of him in their minds. Some even saw him as, villainous. Y/N didn’t speak, didn’t take a sip or eat anything. Their eyes were glued to the screen, jaw tightly locked in position and their fists balled till their skin turned white. 

The day was supposed to be a fun, class get together at their friends house to cheer for their favourite UA student. No one would’ve guessed that it was all a lie. Some of their classmates knew of Shinsou’s quirk briefly, some had no idea that he could brainwash people. So during the student-student battle rounds, they were left shocked at how unsportsmanlike Shinsou was, the way he manipulated his quirk to win. He was nothing like how Y/N described him, this boy who was full of wonder and was always determined to be by Y/N’s side. Some of the students felt sick, some of the students resembled the same kinds of people that swayed Shinsou away from his dreams of becoming a hero. Before the fight between Midoriya Izuku and Shinsou could take place, Y/N turned off the TV and walked out the room. No one tried to console them. 

Well done for today. Call me when you’re free.

“Y/N, you there?”

“Shinsou why did you lie to me?” 

His heart almost skipped a beat at his exposure. 

“I didn’t mean to lie to you.”

A new found anger filled Y/N’s voice, they screamed. “But you did! For almost half a year! You pretended to be a part of 1-A, I thought you almost died at USJ! Yet I see you on national television using your quirk like your some sort of-“

“Some sort of what?! Villain? I fought damn hard today, I’m not having you prove them all right!” 

The call cut abruptly, both Y/N and Shinsou were left aghast. Years of dreams together and years of friendship. Suddenly began to melt away. Had their feelings for each other, their dreams to be together side by side as heroes come to an end now?

Since they last spoke on the phone, Y/N became fully integrated into Shiketsu High’s hero course, ignoring the rest of the world around them. Allowing themselves to be swallowed whole by their hero activities. Despite their hard work, their mind was always elsewhere. Their last conversation with Shinsou left a bitter taste in their mouth that nothing could clean out. Maybe if they had been more understanding, they could’ve fixed everything. 

Unlike a few of their classmates, Y/N pass their Provisional Licence exam with a breeze. Only a few more steps closer to becoming a pro, was all that was driving Y/N to continue with their studies. Their endless spiralling thoughts had consumed them to the point of delusion that only a harsh voice from a certain pro-hero caught broke their train of thought.

“Are you Y/N L/N?” 

They whipped their head around to face the Erasure hero, Eraserhead. Aizawa Shota, who upon close inspection, was the older spitting image of Shinsou. Y/N cursed how the image of Shinsou followed them everywhere they turned. 

“You’re friends with Shinsou Hitoshi from UA, yes?” They gave a hesitant nod. 

“Well he reached out to me to train him, tell me. Do you think he can do it, train to become a hero?” His stagnant voice held no indication of hope nor malice. So this was Class 1-A’s teacher.

Y/N could only recall the memories of their childhood with Shinsou, where despite his smaller frame compared to other kids, his slight stammer as a child. He would always stand up for Y/N no matter what, he would always hold their hand whenever it would get dark sooner than expected. How Shinsou would always give them the other half of his candy to make sure that Y/N would always have something to eat or smile at. How no matter what Shinsou would be by their side, even if they were apart, the spirit of him was always leaning over them. Y/N knew, from the very first day they met him, that Shinsou was their hero.

“Yes. I know he can become the greatest hero, because he’s always been mine.” 

[iron-embers]

The post that inspired this one by the lovely @bloodbladesanddemons

The younger years

While the Rengoku children are quite well behaved usually, they have their little quirks (Hatomi adores them all the same but it has its moments). Kyojuro loves anything out of the ordinary, especially big Bugs….though safe to say Senjuro is not a fan. Add a strange fascination with trying to keep the beetle as a pet, with a younger brother with a highly impressionable imagination, and you get Hatomi having to be the one to say no when Kyojuro gives her the pleading look.

Dad says no to Animals but not to bugs right?

Hate to break it to ya Kyojuro, but I think that might be worse. Hatomi knows this would not end well if Shinjuro found a giant bug in the living room.

Hope ya like my randomness, and stay tuned!

Art and Hatomi are mine

[lolxdswag123]

Who’s the bad influence?

Rafe Cameron x reader

Authors note: I’m going to make this into a series, so this will just be part 1. Let me know what you think should happen next.

Warnings: drinking, mentions of coke, Rafe being normal Rafe (deserves a warning)

_____________________________________________________________

I usually don’t bother with going to kook parties. Everyone is rude and stuck up and on coke.

My parents don’t believe me when I tell them this. They think the kook children would never act in such undignified ways. “Only the pogues could ever display such remarkable stupidity.” They would say.

It was a particularly short conversation that had taken place earlier that evening.

“I’m going to JJ’s.”

“Your pogue friend?”

“Yes.”

“No you’re not.”

“Yes I am.”

“You’ll go with your brother to the Cameron’s or you’ll say home.”

End of story. No further discussion.

So that’s how I ended up at my brother’s best friend’s house, standing in the corner with the sister, and watching the idiots do lines.

Sarah Cameron had recently become a good friend of mine. We had basically grown up with her family, and she actually used to date my brother, but then started hanging around my friends and fell for John B. I didn’t hold it against her, my brother could be a real idiot.

Her brother however was a different story. Rafe and I were the best of friends when we were little. When I became friends with the pogues, we went our separate ways. We still hangout when I’m over at their house, but it’s not like it used to be. He’s gotten more intense, lately. I know he hates the pogues, and he’s even beaten up my friend a few times.

Every time I ask him about it, he makes up some story about how they deserved it. I hated that. But one thing that I noticed was that he never showed that side in front of me. We could be around anyone, even someone that he hates the most, and he’d still act civil.

But, as soon as I turn my back, he loses it.

This is what occupies my mind as I stare at the brainless activities of my brother and Kelce, noticing Rafe standing to the side, drinking a beer. Usually he is involved with their ridiculousness, but not tonight. I wonder why.

“Hey,” Sarah pulls me out of my thoughts, “I’m gonna go to the chateau soon. You coming?”

I smile, happy to have an excuse to leave. “Absolutely.”

She smiles, “Good. I’m just gonna go change then we’ll go?” She asks, glancing at her phone.

I nod, turning my focus back to the unfortunate scene in front of me as soon as she walks away.

I take a sip of my drink. I rarely drink, but it’s hard not to when I come to things like this. There’s no way for me to enjoy myself, but the Whiteclaws take the edge off.

I stare blankly at the boys who were now setting up a beer pong table, when I feel a new presence next to me.

“Don’t tell me you and my sister are already scheming to leave.” Rafe says, looking down at me and taking another sip of his beer.

I shrug, not paying much attention, “Sorry.”

He turns to face me, trying to catch my eyes, “What, are you not having fun?”

I turn to face him and shrug again, “Can’t say I am.”

He looks down at me briefly, quirking his eyebrow and scanning the room before leaning down near my ear, “You’re not going to hang out with the pogues…” he pauses for a second and it almost sounds more like a statement than a question before he adds, “right?”

I nod, not making eye contact. I know how he feels about them.

He lets out a deep sigh, shaking his head and looking annoyed.

“You know…” he says, looking intently at me, “You know they really are a bad influence on you. You know that?” He pokes my arm with his pointer finger before taking another swig of his beer.

I scoff, looking back up at him, “You’re one to talk.”

He shakes his head, and just as I’m about to go for another drink of my Whiteclaw he grabs my wrist. I look over to see if anyone is watching. Of course they were too drunk to notice.

“Hey.” He says, “Now…” he can’t make eye contact, and I can see his brain working as he tries to get the right words out, “Now don’t go saying I’m a bad influence… okay? I don’t do any of that stuff around you.” He holds my wrist tighter and aggressively sets his beer on the counter, “Okay? I don’t do any of that stuff around you anymore. So I’m not a bad influence.”

I look at him skeptically, trying to figure out why he’s obviously trying to convince himself of this more than he’s trying to convince me.

I reach out to touch his hand softly, trying to help him calm down a little bit. I wonder if this is the side of him that people talk about. The side that I never see.

“Hey…” I say softly as he looks down at my hand on his, “Okay, you’re not a bad influence to me. You’re right.” I reassure him, nodding, but taking another sip of my Whiteclaw.

He nods slowly, smirking pridefully. “Yeah… yeah I know. But you’re not ditching me for the pogues.”

I shrug, smiling guiltily and backing away, knowing that Sarah could be down at any second and I will be out of here, “You’ve never had a problem with it before.”

He tenses his jaw, picking up his beer again and taking a drink before looking me up and down slowly and saying, “Yeah well you never go over there looking like that.”

I roll my eyes, looking down at my outfit. I was wearing a tight black tank top and black jean shorts. I guess it might’ve been a little showier than normal, but then again, why should he care?

“So? Maybe I wanted to look good.” I said defensively, annoyed that he had the audacity to comment on my outfit at all.

He nods, taking another drink before pointing to me and saying, “Well, you got that right.”

I roll my eyes, taking another step back and downed the rest of my white claw, but sneak a quick glance back at him. I didn’t know if it was the drinks or the fact that he was just so close to me- but he looked good tonight.

I walked to the fridge to grab another drink before I leave. As I turn back around to see what’s taking Sarah so long, Rafe is on my heels causing me to aalmost spill my new Whiteclaw all over him.

“Gosh, Rafe! What are you doing?” I exclaim, earning the attention of my brother and Kelce.

“You good?” Topper asks from across the room, giving me a questioning look with a thumbs up.

Before I could respond, Rafe speaks up, “Yeah, she’s good, Top.”

Topper nods and turns back to his intense game of beer pong.

I throw my hands up, about to reprimand him when he grabs my free hand and quickly pulls me around the corner before I could process what was happening.

“What are you doing?” I ask, as soon as we get into the other room- Ward’s study. Nobody is even allowed in here. I remember getting yelled at several times as a kid for being in here with Rafe.

“Don’t go.” Rafe demands, rolling his neck back as if I was causing him physical pain.

“I’m going to go.” I say, chugging some of my Whiteclaw and hoping that helps me get through this conversation.

“Not when you’re drinking like that.” He says, shaking his head firmly.

I laugh, “I’ve only had, like, 3. And your sister is driving. What’s the big deal, Rafe?” I ask, furrowing my eyebrows at him.

He sets his drink down on Ward’s desk, and I can see the gears turning in his head as his fists clench. He starts pacing back and forth, breathing heavier.

I immediately put my Whiteclaw down next to his beer and move to stand in front of him, grabbing his arms.

“Hey, hey.” I say softly, trying to make eye contact, “is everything okay? You can talk to me, Rafe.”

He takes a deep breath, throwing his head back and releasing his hands before clenching them again.

“You just don’t need to be around people like them, okay? Not when you’re drinking, and not when you’re hardly wearing any clothes.” He laughs at this like something is funny.

“Rafe.” I say gently, reaching down to his clenched hands and still trying to make eye contact.

He finally looks down at me, rolling his shoulders like he needs to let out the tension. We only make eye contact for a moment, before he shakes my hands away and grabs his beer off of Ward’s desk and finishes it.

“Rafe.” I say again, more firmly this time. “What’s going on with you?” I ask, concerned.

He rolls his shoulders again, leaning against Ward’s desk and says quite harshly, “You know what, you do whatever you want, Y/N. See if I care.”

I move closer again, not giving up. I place one of my hands on his, trying to calm him down. “Want me to put on a sweater or something?” I ask gently. “Will that make you feel better?”

He finally looks down at me, his harsh gaze breaking ever so slightly. “It’d make me feel better if you didn’t hangout with such lowlifes.” He shrugs.

“Okay, so I’ll just go like this then.” I say, giving up, and reaching around him to grab my Whiteclaw before turning to leave the room.

Just as I’m about to open the door to find Sarah, I hear a groan from behind me followed by an annoyed, “Here.”

I turn back to him to see him taking off his own sweater to hand to me. My jaw drops for a moment, feeling a small warmth in my stomach, before I regain my composure and walk to him to grab the sweater.

I take it from him and put it on over my clothes. It’s warm and big and it smells good.

“Better?” I ask, tauntingly, as soon as I have the sweater on.

“Much,” he nods, the smallest smirk playing on his lips.

He looks me up and down, and reaches up to gently tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. I can feel my cheeks on fire, so I take another sip of my Whiteclaw to try to cool down.

We stand there for a moment, and all I can think of is all of the good times we had as children in this house. It hadn’t been just the two of us for a while. It felt refreshing. I felt comfortable.

Before I could relish in the moment for too long, I felt my phone buzzing in my pocket. I took it out to see that Sarah was calling me.

I held up my phone for Rafe to see before saying, “I’d better go.”

He nods, standing up from where he was leaning, “Yeah.”

We walk out of the office together, in closer proximity than when we’d entered, heading back into the kitchen where everyone else was. I immediately found Sarah.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” She said, not acknowledging her brother, “apparently JJ’s drunk again and he’s been asking for you.” She grabs my hand, ready to leave.

I catch Rafe’s eye as soon as she starts pulling me away, and I can tell he’s not happy that I’m leaving. I give him a weak smile.

“Where’d you get this sweater?” Sarah asks as we’re about to leave the room.

My eyes are still on Rafe and the last thing I see before we leave the party is a big smirk on his face as he’s opening another beer.

(Part 2)

[minty364]

DPXDC Prompt #142 Part 2

His parents had spent years working on their portal, to the point where they were neglecting their own children. Danny didn’t know any better, neither did Jazz. To them it was just how their family ran and for the most part it worked for them. It allowed Danny to really study space and the Stars. His room was covered with different ship models on the shelves, glow in the dark stars on the ceiling and posters on the walls.

Jazz had similarly explored her own thoughts and topics as she studied Psychology. Her room was more feminine but still had a certain scientific decorum to it.  

He never thought that he’d suddenly be ripped from all the things he loved. But here he was with the trench coat man, instead of taking some biology class or something.

“What happened with the portal?” Danny asked.

The man took a long sigh, “listen… quite a lot of shit went down after your accident.” 

“That tells me nothing,” Danny glared at the man.

“I get your upset kid, but let me at least know your name. Mine's John Constantine,” 

“…Danny,” Danny muttered after a moment. He wasn’t sure he trusted the man but he guessed he had no choice. He was also noticing he felt a bit off, it was the weirdest gut feeling and Danny was having trouble telling exactly what the feeling was. It was like the feeling was telling him to trust John, although at the same time John had this weird feeling about him that had Danny feeling weary. He decided to trust John just a little, hopefully it got him back home, after a moment Danny spoke again, “…Can you at least tell me if the portal worked?”

The room was silent for a moment and then John spoke “Alright, fine, I’ll tell you what happened but some background first, do you know who the ancients are?” 

The name didn’t sound familiar, “Ancients? Like Ancient Aliens or something?” 

“No, no…” John took a swig from a flask in his pocket and then started fiddled with an unlit cigarette he pulled from a different pocket. He then looked Danny up and down, “You don’t know the first thing about the infinite realms do you?”

“The what?” None of this was making any sense and the more Danny talked to this guy the more he was getting a feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach. Something about this conversation felt wrong, like Danny should know all of this already but he just didn’t. 

“Right well… I guess the easiest way to explain this is the portal your parents made was to the infinite realms.” John said, putting the cigarette in his mouth.

“My parents called it the Ghost Zone.” Danny muttered.

John seemed to chuckle at that, “I mean it is mainly inhabited by ghosts, however they aren’t the only ones, far from it in fact. I’m sorry but… I couldn’t allow your parents unlimited access to the realms. I had to disable it and prevent it from being reactivated.”

Danny felt a little disheartened after hearing that, he guessed John was probably right though. He remembered hearing his parents talk about how they’d dissect every ghost they found to study them. The bully’s at his school often bullied Danny over it especially after his dad and mom would continually embarrass him on parent teacher nights and on field trips.

Danny let out a small sigh, “so when can I go home?”

John looked a little surprised, his eyebrow quirked up, “so you're unaware of your situation right now?”

“Situation?” Danny trailed off, he remembered getting shocked and then he remembered waking up here, “where are we?”

John let out another sigh, “shit, well from my research you're supposed to know everything about your powers when you wake up.”

This made no sense to Danny, powers? Danny didn’t have powers, he didn't have the meta-gene.

“Powers? I don’t have the meta-gene. I think you have the wrong person.” Danny stated as he folded his arms in front of himself.

“Then how are you floating?” John asked with a smirk.

Danny looked down and he indeed was floating just an inch off the bed, he wondered when that started but the feeling threw him off a little as he stumbled a little trying to keep himself upright. It didn’t work and he fell back down on the bed with a little thud. He turned to see John watching him with a small hint of amusement in his eyes. 

“What am I?” Danny asked, his voice small and a little panicked.

“You, Danny Fenton, are an Ancient. I know the term makes it seem like you're old but the term is more because your people are ancient in age.” The explanation made no sense to Danny but he could somehow float now. He thought the term ‘Ancient’ was a little much for some floating powers.

[threepandas]

After The War: Foxx Hunting (Prev <-)

"Commander."

On anyone else, the tone would suggest simple statement. But there was a lilt. A slight inflection, I had long learned to spot, at the end of the word. That made it a greeting. A call. Monotone filled with subtle, near untraceable mocking.

"Tired of running yet, Commander? Or do you want to struggle more? You can, if you want. I can let you. We have time. After all, it really won't change much. There's no where you can go."

Head tilted ever so slightly, at an almost an invisible angle. Posture, military perfect, impossibly so. That perfection bought with pain, torture, born out of brutal necessity. His lips quirked, in an amused curl. At just that same, impossibly slight amount. Too small and indistinct for his tormentors to notice. To take from him.

Just enough to stay human, I had thought. Too stay sane, I had hoped.

I was wrong.

My biggest mistake hunted me. Had all the power in the GALAXY now, to hunt me. All the time he could ever dream, in which to do so. And it was all my fault. Me. It had to be. I... I was the only thing that changed. Tried to make things... things BETTER!

How arrogant. Hubristic. Who the fuck was I? To think I had the RIGHT, to shape and change the fate of an entire GALAXY to my whims? I didn't even know the story. Had been GUESSING, based off STAR WARS. So... so fucking confident. A-and what did that get me? Oh god. O-Oh god!

The blaster burns on my arms and legs screamed, as I forced myself up, one more time. Always, please god, always! J-just one more time! Don't give out on me yet. Not.. not until we are safe. Then. Then! We can cry. Howl and weep, break down and scream.

(My fault. My Fault. MY FAUL-)

None of the characters were an exact match. People were and weren't where they should be. Plots happened out of sequence or not at all. So why? WHY? Did I believe so hard in the Clones? IS it because I loved, still LOVE, the Vode? Did that trust transfer? That emotional connection? Was I tricked? Or was I just a fool? Does it MATTER in the end? If the result is the same?

I brought a monster, straight to Power.

Now they're dead. All my brothers, my sisters, my mentors and friends. Dead, dead, DEAD! Glowing weapons on the ground and a temple filled with DEATH. D-Did the nurseries get out? Please, oh god, let the children have survived my mistake.

Blood stains my robes. Only a tiny fraction of it, is mine.

Sticky and slick, oily and so many colors. The blood does not mix. Too many species, too much ash from the air. If I do not clean or remove it soon? I am likely to get chemical burns, from the reactions developing on the cloth. But again and again. My mistake finds me. A pursuit predator. Intent on wearing me down.

"How long will you try, Commander? You know just as well as I do, that I can afford to wait you out. You'll drop eventually." His tone was so mild, even as his words were horrifying. Overhead, a transport kept steady pace, as I desperately ran from commandos on the streets. "How many days has it been without proper rest? Rations? To stop and think? We've survived far worse then this, Commander. For far longer. We can endure, can you?"

I pull my magic around me, through my screaming legs, to fling myself across a jump they shouldn't be able to make.

Despair surges, as behind me... I hear jetpacks. Ah. They've gotten better gear, at long last. E-Everything I've ever wished for them. Gear and food and safety, at long last! A-At long last. I have to laugh, hysterical and afraid. I just... I just never thought my wish? Would be fulfilled for the purpose of hunting me down.

(I'm so tired. Please, god. No more. Let it stop. Let this nightmare END!)

Jumping, I land in a roll on a level several floors down. The impact is ugly. Agony on my burns and bruises. I may have not taken any direct hits? But those glancing strikes? Still leave marks. Trails of seared, blistering, blaster burns. Like tiger strips. As though you hade been struck, by whip made of fire. Not to mention the concussion grenades.

Yeah, half way through the attack, the Clones had stumbled. Either broken free of the Not Sith's control or come to their senses, deciding to switch to non-lethal weapons. Probably trying to go for the capture instead of the kill. But given the sheer variety of the Knights? One Being's sedative was another's lethal toxin. And the gas attacks...

I... I'm still not even sure if... if Master Rim'Llahiy survived long enough, to get to the healers. The seizures were BAD. He... he didn't deserve that. All he'd ever done, was keep the gardens. Live a quite life. T...Try to defend his home.

Around me, as I run, screens light up. Somehow, I'm the focal point. I... I don't know how he's doing this. It has to be Sketch or Gear, one of the Slicers. Who else could hack into so many systems so easily? The... the knowledge that they're helping him? That everyone of the Guard is HELPING him hunt me? I feel sick.

Was any of it real? Was I friends with ANY of them? Or... Or was I just them happy little slave master, patting myself on the back, because I didn't beat them, unlike the others? Aren't I gracious. Don't you just love me? Say thank you for my grace. Let me feel good about my self! My pretty little charity of the day! Before I skip back off to fairy land! Leaving you all in hell.

Do I deserve this? I... I have to deserve this... right?

Even though I tried. Even though I fought and fought and FOUGHT. Even when that Not A Sith BASTARD tried to kill me at every turn, just to shut me the fuck up, and I WOULDN'T. Because they deserved to be free. Because it was WRONG. Because we took VOWS, remember? Days and days, convincing and campaigning.

I have to... to somehow, deserve this. Because? B-because if I DON'T?

Then What Have I DONE?

City levels and blocks blur together. I couldn't tell you where on this god forsaken ecumenopolis I am anymore. But the others! The others have gotten off planet by now. Surely... surely! They have escaped! Right? They HAVE too. I-It HAS to have been worth it. Becoming bait. M-making myself a target. This... this one last time?

It.. it was WORTH it. Right? Right?!

Please! Please god! Let it have been WORTH IT!!

I skid around a corner. Too tight, not judging it right in my panic, my shoulder clipping the wall hard. Scraping flesh through my robes. Just more bruises and hurt to add to the pile. I don't slow. Can't slow. Feel it but push the pain away. The crash later will be ugly, when I release the magics flowing through me. When the adrenaline fades. But... but either I will live to endure it? Or it will not matter at all.

Too late, though, I see the trap.

I have been corralled. Like a a sheep from my first life, harried by dogs into a pen. Tricked into a corner. No where left to go. The platform I thought was a street? Was an alley between two buildings, leading to a third. A perfect little killbox with only one way out. I stumble, horrified, as I register the truth too late. Spin, already knowing it's too late to double back. But hoping... HOPING....!

Jetpacks. The commando squadron of the guards, touching down at the entrance, a solid line of armor and skill. Better weapons, jet packs, upgraded armor. They... they even seem rested. For the first time in years.

A stark reversal. Now it is I, who is barely holding on. Now I am the one, who has been ground to dust, by the exhaustion of fighting without end. Of running and running. No real food and no real rest. No medicine. No help coming. I want to laugh, scream, weep. So it's to be poetic justice, is it?

But I can not give in.

Forgive me. But I can not, WILL NOT give in. Body exhausted, I draw my blade. The plasma humming as the magics charge. The alleyway fills with light. I took Vows. Owe my soul to the Galaxy and it's people. Regardless of Regime, I have service I must complete. And to do that? I have to be alive.

(I don't care, that they took over. Let them have it. But how could you? How COULD YOU?! The Temple was my home. I am a hypocrite. Here, at the end, I must face that. And now I know it to be true.)

The ship over head dips lower, kicking up a hurricane of wind. My robes whip around me, but I do not move from my opening stance. Ready, not ready, but resigned to it none the less. The Commandos are a silent wall as, from above, a rip cord descends. Clipped to it? Marshall Commander... no, Supreme Commander Foxx.

The Clones newly elected Emperor.

A man I THOUGHT was my friend.

He looked nothing like Commander Fox of the Vode. Hair too long and curling. Face deceptively young looking and boyish. Non regulation piercing hidden under the helmet all Guards wore, day in and day out. They hadn't been able to customize their armor like the others. So they customized themselves.

He wasn't in armor, now. It was somehow worse. The dress uniform an affront, a reminder, like a curse of broken glass. I... I hadn't even known he owned such a thing. It made sense, given his old position. Yet, somehow... somehow? I doubted this was the uniform he had been given. It looked... looked Regal.

"Are we done, now? Got it out of your system? Or should one of us put you on the ground first? Grind your face right against the filthy floor?"

His voice was mild as ever, as he calmly unclipped himself, let the cord retract. He tucked his hands behind his back. Strolled forward with measured steps, assessing eyes, like a general examining untested troops. Picking me apart for weakness, looking for openings in my stance. Injuries on my body. I had seen him do this before. Just... just never thought... it'd be used... a-against me. (How arrogant, I had been.)

"This can stop at any time, Commander. All you have to do? Is stop running. You don't have to worry anymore. I'm not going to hurt you. We're not going to hurt you. You've struggled long enough, don't you think? It's time to be done. To come home. Be taken care off. That's all we want to do, Darling. Commander."

"Surely you can see, that it's BETTER this way? No more war. No more Knights on sabotaged missions. Diplomats to war zones. Children where they shouldn't BE. The Order can be SAFE now. YOU can be safe now. Loved and precious as you always should have been. It's okay now, Commander. Come here. It's okay..."

Foxx's eyes blazed with conviction. They had been brown, like his brothers. They... oh god, they SHOULD have been brown. But as I stared into his face, at those unfamiliar eyes on what should be so familiar a form? Red stared back. The red, Red, RED, of the Fallen.

Foxx had been... had been Energy Sensitive. The Cloners had fucking LIED, when they said it wasn't possible. I had always suspected. Didn't dare bring attention to it. Didn't want my friend to be... to be KILLED. Experimented on. I should have trained him. Done more.

Desperate people will reach for anything, to stop themselves from drowning. And the Dark offers such tempting things. Vengeance and Power. Freedom, no matter the cost. It pays sweetly then corrupts slow. There is always a cost.

I can not risk it.

Shifting my weight to my front leg, in preparation to surge forward, I never get the chance. A two fold thwip! And sharp pinch in my upper arm. I got the first. But the second... a? Dart? No. NO! Panicked, I flood my body with the magics meant to purge drugs and... instantly the world spins. I have somehow just made it worse. W-what?

"Confiscated from slavers, 'bout five months back. It's a high end drug." The Commando with the dart gun said, as though commentingon the weather. "Fairly new, too. Made to react specifically to the Cosmic Energies. Our esteemed Chancellor, may he rot as he deserves, had them developed through several shell companies."

"Really wish you hadn't done that, Commander. Cause, see, the side effects? Are pretty nasty." Foxx commented. Various helmets nodded, the guards body language sympathetic but lacking any remorse. What ever it took to bring me in. To make me Safe.

"Now you're going to be sick for a while. But on the other hand? You are a stubborn one. So maybe this'll give you time to think, hmm? Time to enjoy the pampering a bit. You'll get used to it, learn to be good for me. I know you. You're a smart girl."

My legs couldn't hold me anymore. Despite struggling, I couldn't keep my blade at the ready. Helplessly, I watched as he watched forward. Used a single finger, on the hilt, to push my blade to the side. The lightest of tugs, stealing it from me entirely. At long last, the tears came. I... I was scared. Really, really scared. P-please... Foxx, please...

"Hunts over, Commander. It's time to stop running. You've lost."

"But, that? That's okay. You can lose now. Be weak. Wretched and pathetic and flawed. You don't have to be perfect any more, Commander. I've got you. You're Mine. Ours. Perfect, just the way you are. And today?"

"Today is the start of the rest of your new life, Commander."

"Welcome to the Empire."

[yourstrqly]

˗ ˏ ˋ 𝐁𝐔𝐈𝐋𝐃 𝐀 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐑, 𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐀𝐍 𝐒𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐄𝐀𝐍𝐓

Pairings : Logan Sargeant x reader (platonic)

in which Logan and you have a day off work in London and decide to go to build a bear, creating each a stuffy for the other as you did as children.

— only friend i need series

"Come on Logs, live a little", you said, pressing the blonde to agree to your spontaneous idea of the day. "it's a fantastic idea, I always have those, and i still can't believe you've lived here for what? Two years now? and still didn't do it. shame, mate."

Said man, who sat opposite of you, took another bite of his somewhat healthy breakfast choice his trainer would've had a wet dream about, all while starring in disbelief at you, the one who's bright smile focused on the plate of waffles, covered in strawberries and cream.

He shallowed, opening his mouth to disagree with the idea but nothing came to his mind, letting you grin in excitement. "I— well, fine, but don't you think we're a bit too old for build a bear, y/n?"

"Buh, since when do we do age appropriate stuff?", you questioned, thinking back about the many times you rode rollercoasters for children, watched movies in the cinema for zero to six years old and did other things people considered then to be made for children. "it's cute, saw a tiktok about it."

"You and your tiktok obsession — when did you even watch it? We were out all day yesterday."

You rolled your eyes playfully. "Are you that old, sargeant? You were in the gym after we had lunch at mine."

"Yeah true", the man sheepishly agreed, remembering the cardio and weight session, before his blue eyes brightened, signaling you that he had an idea — for the better or worse, you never knew with him.

"Please enlighten me, what's on your mind?"

Logan's smile widened, pupils blooming. "How about I build you a stuffy and you for me like we did when we were younger?"

"Yes please, that has to the best idea you've had in a while, Logs", you giggled. "Let's eat and then we'll make our way there, its in that mall not so far away from here."

With that, you both ate in silence, listing to the gossip around you — an older woman complained to her son about back pain, a couple fought about having another baby (the woman didn't want another one while the man was adapt on growing the family) and a man in his forties tried to flirt with the waiter —, Logan and you sent each other looks and quirked eyebrows, whenever the topic grew hotter and juicier.

As you shallowed the last bite of your delicious breakfast, Logan already waved the waiter over to pay for today's expenses — since both of you worked, you took turns with the payment, even though the racer tried to take the check whenever you were eating in a somewhat bougier place, saying that he made more and wanted to be a gentleman which would get him a snort out of you or a slap on the arm. not that it hurt him, you liked to think the hits had to be gently because of his worth for Williams.

After the blonde had paid, he impatiently stood up, holding out his hand for helping you to stand up. "Let's go, y/n, we don't have all day."

You let go off his hand, pressing a finger to your forehead. "Don't know why I keep up with you, you're acting like a kid in a hardware store. i'm praying for Alex and his patience."

"Hey, I'm not that bad", your friend shrieked, pulling your head into am armlock to rub your hair which he knew you didn't enjoy at all — you weren't a pet, you'd tell him.

"You're a shithead, have I ever said that to you?", you grumbled as you freed yourself from his strong grasp.

"And you're what? a Saint?", a snort escaped the man's throat, pushing you lightly forward to continue your way to the destination. "cause I don't think so, you're as bad as me, that's why we're friends."

Once again you grumbled under your breath but decided to just walk, letting Logan rant about his trip to New York with Williams and the training camp that was held in Miami.

When you arrived at the mall, you've heard all about his recent work experience, Alex's stories about his holidays and a new recipe Logan's mom came up (it didn't sound but why was she adapt to add pumpkin to the dish?).

"Look logs, there it is", you pointed out, gaze hazy with childish excitement. You intertwined your hand with his, dragging him inside the colourful store to the yet lifeless bodies of stuffies — there was the classic Teddy in a few shades of brown, forest and savanna animals as well as movie characters like yoda, stich and hedwig, Harry Potter's beloved owl.

you truly were in paradise. "Oh look, it's an eagle, that's so American, so you", a booming laughter fell from your lips, winning the attention of a mother daughter duo next to you, causing you to blush and Logan to pinch your side.

alas, your friend had enough of you, so therefore he left your side to explore the many options the shop had in stock. You didn't see his pick as your only matter was to fulfil the task of finding the right stuffy for logan and putting it in clothing.

In the end you decided on a cute black alpaca and put it in a white cargo trousers combined with a multicoloured party shirt and some blue jeans jacket, letting yourself be inspired by the clothing styles of Logan and George Russell's invention of white pants and a williams team shirt as a williams driver's standard uniform — you'd switch up the party shirt as soon as you'll get a hang out of sewing to make a mini williams shirt but for now the alpaca was going to own the shirt as did logan in the summer when you both went out for a wild night back home.

As you put the heart and the small voice box thingy in the stuffy, a small happy tear rolled down your cheek; you chose to say two things: the first one was the viral meme of him being American, silently screaming rwahh what the fuck is a kilometre and the second was a sweet message to cheer him up, hopefully, whenever he felt bad and you'd be out of his reach — a small fracture of yourself, reminding him of his greatness and uniqueness, and that he was loved and cheered. You were a sentimental being, no shame whatsoever, even though your friend sometimes liked to tease you about it, causing you to clap back — it was just that kind of friendship where you could let lose, be yourself without further worries nor feeling embarrassed or awkward.

When Logan finally got to you — you had waited for him outside of the mall, leaning on the car as you had texted him, and bought two cups of coffee at the small café on the opposite side of the build a bear shop— you gave him the box, containing the alpaca, wearing a silly expression on your face, which Logan mirrored.

"Let's see, if you still know me after seeing the whole wide world without me", you joked, silly smile morphing in a naughty grin on your lips.

"As if I could forget you, stinks."

"Maybe I should return it, you don't deserve it—"

"Hey, I don't do anything wrong", he exclaimed, making grabby hands to get the stuffy.

"Mister Sargeant, you are a liar and a very bad one at that", you tsked him. "Haven't we already said that we refer to call me stinks? the name should be buried six foot deep next to—"

"Don't you dare, y/n."

"I definitely should tweet the nickname, your colleagues would eat it up, don't you think so?", you giggled gleefully, remembering how you called him as you were two young children, running around the neighbourhood to terrorise them.

"And that's why I don't take you with me", he mumbled under his breath, holding out his hand where the stuffy box hang off. "Here we go, silly, hope you like it."

Slowly, you opened the box and the sight of your favourite animal greeted you, wearing the cutest hogwarts robes of your house. "Aw Logs, it's so pretty and fluffy. I love it." Gently you pressed you face against the small head of the stuff toy, enjoying the cozy texture of it and closed your eyes, salivating the moment.

After a moment, the blonde man enclosed you in a hug. "the alpaca's lovely, y/n/n. Best idea we had in a while."

"yeah true", you agreed, returning the hug.

[ratskinsuit]

can I request a adhd!reader x any character (pls not Valentino or vox..) any gender

Hazbin Hotel Characters With An ADHD!Reader Headcannons

———————————————————————

A/N: Since I don’t get much info (I’m so sorry) I just decided to do heacanons. Now I don’t do mental disorder specific readers because I don’t wanna mess things up, but I personally have ADHD so I can do this. Although these may be self projecting a bit with my experience so I’m so sorry if it’s not okay.

———————————————————————

Charlie: Also has ADHD (Its just my personal headcanon, it may not be your personal one and that’s okay)

You two honestly can’t be together when you have something to do

Like you won’t get anything down when your together

Because the two of you just feed off each others energy and get distracted the entire time

Vaggie has to physically separate you two so you can focus

Forgetfulness

You could misplace you phone and ask her “Hey Charlie can you call my phone, I dunno where it is.”

And she will just be like “I don’t know where mine is either.” 😭

You two honestly share one single brain cell and switch it every other day (as an ADHD person I can confirm we do this with friends)

Vaggie: Keeps you focused

Okay so If you get distracted a lot she will be there yo try ti get you to focas

Mrs girl has fidgets and things to help you stay on tasks if they gel, if they don’t however,

Well she will try her best

Literally like the mother to you and Charlie so you two don’t do something stupid and he introuble

Melatonin is her best friend

If she can’t calm you down and it’s important, melatonin (unless you take medication)

She makes sure to keep track of all your stuff just incase you forget where you placed it

“Hey Vaggie, do you know where my-“

*Holds out your phone* it was on the kitchen counter

If you take medication (bcs for some people it lowers you appetite) she will remind you to eat.

Alastor: Doesn’t really understand; teases you

When you first tell him you have ADHD his old ass is just like

“Erm, my dear what’s that?”

Thinks you might be crazy till you explain

He honestly finds your energy and do-before-think attitude amusing

Does get pissed when he’s talking to you and you get distracted or forget what he was saying though

Finds it hilarious when Vaggie tries to get you to focus on things

Will finds diff ways to distract you, making it harder for Vaggie

Just enjoys the chaos of your energy

If you take medication for it he may or may not hide occasionally it just to see the chaos unfold (Before you come at me: he . Is . In . Hell . For . A . Reason)

Unless HE needs you to focas

Then you better be focused

Angel Dust: Loves hanging out with you

You two are probubly best friends fr

LOVES your energy because he finds it so fun

You two just go hang out and wander the streets, laughing and giggling together

He’s fine with the distracting and forgetfulness part, he knows it happens

Makes sure you eat. Eat or he will make you.

Honestly he’s just really understanding and knows that it’s hard for you to be able to control it

(Plz send best friend requests for him I did headcanons and I love writing best friend Angel)

While he does understand and love your energetic-ness, he also makes sure that you don’t act ok impulse TOO much

Like, stops you from making rash decisions that could hurt you in the future

Late night sleepovers

You two on the couch packing yourselves full of sugar and watching movies

Husk: Dies on the inside, also designated babysitter (Jkjk. Also I do realize that people with ADHD arnt children or stupid, this is just a reference to the energy)

Giving depressed dad energy

Like he’s just sitting at the bar cleaning up and your just talking at 50 miles per hour

He does however listen to the random things you say, he’s used to listening

Sometimes if you a bit chiller he will be able to follow along better and will input into the convo

Let’s you ramble and doesn’t mind the little quirks you have like interrupting him

He’s delt with worse

He has a alot of different stories, so if you have a lot of energy expect to be dropped off at the bar

His stories are exciting and can surprisingly keep most people’s attention for a while

He knows what it is but not the knowledgeable on it

But understands the basics on what it does and blah blah blah

Generally doesn’t mind the energy or the getting distracted, or the forgetfulness

Once again he’s delt with worse

Velvette: Somewhat gets it, gets pissy sometimes though

So she gets some of the “quirks”, like having a lot of energy, fidgeting, forgetfulness and getting distracted

If your her friend/partner she’s fine with it

She can deal with high energy and talking, she also talks very fast so she can keep up and keep a conversation

Finds different ways to keep you entertained so she can work if she can’t be in the moment

During parties she finds it hilarious

Doesn’t do the best with impulse control, she likes seeing what will happen and where it will go

Doesn’t mind the distractions unless she’s talking to you, then expects you to listen

However if you are one of her models or workers

She takes no excuses

You better pay attention and pay attention well

We all know she’s very demanding of her employees so you better hope she doesn’t notice you

Becwuse if she’s talking to you and get distracted or arnt paying attention…

My guy your fucked

———————————————————————

A/N: So this person asked for anybody but Vox or Valentino. But if anybody wants or if this does well I’ll make a pt 2 with them and more characters.

[vodika-vibes]

Hello! Congratulations on making it to 650! Your fics are some of the best and you deserve all the love and attention.

Okay, could I ask for a romance with Jango Fett in a medieval or fantasy AU? I don’t know; the idea of Jango dressed in warrior king attire just waltzed through my mind and won’t leave me alone. Maybe something along the lines of the relationship started as purely political, but it turns out you’re good for one another and it’s just mutually falling for each other.

For The Dancing

Summary: Your marriage to Jango Fett was decided long before you were old enough to understand what was happening. And it was supposed to be a purely political marriage. Love was never meant to be part of the hand you were dealt. You’re not upset, however, when love appears.

Pairing: Jango Fett x F!Reader

AU Prompt: Fantasy/Medieval AU

Word Count: 1550

Warnings: Arranged Marriage, reader is referred to as wife

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly

A/N: Alright, so here is the first fic of my new event, and naturally I had to start with Jango! I hope you like it~

“You seem troubled, wife.” You don’t pull your gaze away from the garnet colored wine that you’re sipping when you hear your husband’s voice from the doorway behind you.

“Not troubled,” You reassure after a moment, as you finally lower your glass back to the table, “Just pensive, I think.”

“May I join you?”

You finally turn your attention towards the man waiting in the doorway, an amused tilt to your lips, “You hardly need to ask for permission, Jango.” He’s dressed down, his ceremonial armor likely sitting neatly on it’s stand.

Oh, how far you and he have come since the day of your wedding.

There was a time when Jango would never dream of allowing you to see him without his armor.

You watch him as he steps onto the balcony and sinks into the chair across from you. Your expression doesn’t waver as he almost falls into the seat, as though there’s a massive weight on his shoulders.

“The talks went poorly then?” You ask, taking in the tension in his frame and the stress lines on his face.

He shifts in his seat and rests his cheek on his hand, “Don’t they always?” His dark gaze scans your face, “The Duchess asked after you.”

“Of course she did.” You reply dismissively, “Likely worrying about how I’ve been treated by you...godless heathens.” You add with an amused smile.

Jango’s lips quirk up into a small smile, “Those were her exact words.”

You shake your head, exasperated. “Honestly, you’d think she’d be better at this by now.”

He chuckles and leans back, “If it helps, she did seem to be genuinely concerned as to your well-being.”

“Hm. Yes, I don’t doubt that at all.”

“You have no intention of seeing her, I take it.”

You lift your wine glass again and absently twist the stem between your fingers, “There’s no point. Satine and I haven’t been close since we were children. And the last time we spoke, she had some things to say to me in regards to our marriage.”

“You’ve mentioned that before.” Jango allows, “Is that why you’re wallowing, wife?”

“Wallowing?” There’s a hint of laughter in your voice, “I suppose it must seem like I’m sulking a little bit.”

“Miles says that you haven’t left our wing since Satine and her entourage arrived.” Jango murmurs, “I am...concerned.”

You regard him fondly, “I have little love for large gatherings, Jango. You know that.”

“I would never dream of asking you to interact with people who cause you distress, wife. Were it in my power, I would cast Satine and her entourage out of our kingdom so that you might be less distressed.”

“It is in your power,” You remind him with an adoring smile, “But I would never dream of asking such a thing. You need these talks to go well.”

Jango taps a rhythm out on the table, “Is that what is troubling you?”

You pause, “The Kyr’tsad have become more bold with each passing day. Entire families have gone missing from the mining villages. Our people are afraid, husband.”

Jango grimaces and rubs the back of his neck, “I know. My hands are tied until Satine and her…” He makes a face and mutters something in Mando’a, “Until she agrees that we need to take decisive action.”

You straighten, “And what, pray tell, is my honorable cousin’s suggestion for dealing with the situation?”

“She would like us to talk.”

“...I...what?” For the first time, in a very long time, you’re properly befuddled.

He chuckles, “That has been the reaction of a lot of people. Including the Jedi who she brought with her to act as mediators.” Jango shakes his head, “The Jedi told her that her suggestion was a fool’s suggestion and that she needed to take the talks seriously, and she doubled down-” He sighs and rubs the back of his neck again.

You set your wine glass back on the table and smoothly stand to walk around the table. Gently, you settle your hands on his shoulders and start working out the tension in his shoulders and neck.

“I am not so eager to become a widow, Jango.” You murmur as he all but melts under your careful touch.

Jango tilts his head back so that his dark gaze is able to lock with your worried one. His hand comes up and presses against one of your hands, “I have no intention of leaving you a widow, wife. I will always come back to you, that I promise.”

“Gods willing,” You murmur in reply.

Slowly Jango turns the chair so that he’s facing you properly, and he stands so you’re standing chest to chest. He reaches out and lightly cups your cheeks with his warm hands. “Have you so little faith in my skills, wife?” He rumbles low in his chest.

Your eyes close as the scent and feel of Jango surrounds you, “It is not your skills that I have no faith in, Jango.” You press your hands over his, “Marching into battle with unwilling soldiers at your side-”

“That will never happen. You needn’t fret, wife.”

Your breath hitches as he presses his forehead against yours, and your eyes slide shut, “Satine is a fool, and she would see Mandalore lost before she gives up her ideals.”

“You know her better than I.” Jango says after a moment, “Would she truly sacrifice our homeland for the sake of her pacifism?”

“She believes that her way is the best way and that everyone will be better following her rules.” You murmur, “In a way, she’s just as fanatic as Pre Vizsla, just in the opposite direction.”

“Are you allowed to say that?” Jango asks, amused. “You are her cousin after all.”

You open your eyes and make a face, “I’ve always been a bit more even-keeled than Satine.”

“And I am grateful for it,” Jango admits, “And so our people.” He lightly strokes your cheek with his thumb and there’s something soft in his gaze. “While I would never dream of asking you to do something that you’re not willing to do, wife, I could use your silver tongue in the meetings tomorrow.”

You hum softly, “Then you shall have it.”

“Thank the stars,” He mutters, “Between you and the Jedi, I think the meeting will be less contentious tomorrow.”

You smile at him and lean into his warmth, “You are still so tense, husband.”

“It has been a very long day.”

“How can I help?”

Slowly, Jango drags his hands down from your cheeks, over your shoulders, and down your arms, until he’s cradling both of your hands with his own. “How long has it been since we last danced?” He asks as he lightly guides you from the balcony and back into the safety of your shared quarters.

“It’s been a couple of weeks, at least. You’ve been busy.”

“Well, that’s no excuse.” He twirls you into his arms, and starts dancing with you around the bedroom. There’s no music, but it’s perfect all the same.

“Careful, Jango.” You murmur as he spins you and then tugs you so you’re flush against his body, “You run the risk of making me fall in love with you.”

“Are you not already? Then I’m not trying hard enough.”

You laugh softly, and lightly brush your lips against his jaw. His hand, settled lightly on your hip, tightens. You’re no fool. You know that Jango loves you, you can tell in the way that he touches you, the way he looks at you, the way he protects you.

In truth, you love him too. You wouldn’t worry so much about him if you didn’t.

And he knows it.

The words are unnecessary at this point.

“I love dancing with you,” Jango murmurs, as he draws you closer to him and tilts your head back so his lips hover just over yours, “Have since the day of our wedding.”

“I feel the same way,” You murmur, “You’re the perfect dance partner.”

Jango closes the gap between your lips and his. He kisses you like you’re his most valued treasure, his lips warm and gentle against your own, though there’s a hint, just a hint, of roughness behind his lips.

Someday, you’re going to push him to see what he looks like when he’s not trying to be gentle with you. But not today.

He breaks the kiss and bumps his forehead against yours one more time, “When this crisis is over,” Jango murmurs, “I would like to speak with you about having a child.”

You blink at him, surprised, and then you smile, soft and slow, “A baby Jango.” You murmur.

“A baby you,” He corrects, “With your clever tongue and my strength.”

“He’ll be perfect.” You murmur with a warm smile.

“Yes. She will.”

You laugh, and slide your arms around him, “Alright, alright. As soon as this is dealt with, we can start trying for a baby.”

Jango grins, “Well, now I’m motivated.”

And then he sweeps you into a deep kiss, and you wrap your arms around him and allow yourself to be lost in him.

Love might not have been in the cards when you married him, but it’s in the cards now. And nothing could make you happier.

[thelov3lybookworm]

Mine? (Part 5)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Summary: Maybe there is a chance for happiness

•○●⛦●○•

Word Count: 1823

A/n: i love. I LOVE THIS CHAPTER. OH MY GOD.

next part is soon hopefully cus im trynna finish this one now lol and all other series.

anyways, enjoy!🤭😏

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Turns out, Adelaide wasn’t hungry. She was just tired and sleepy. She just wanted her mother, because the moment Y/n took her from Jameson’s arms, she laid her head on Y/n’s shoulder and sniffled quietly. Nash was worried sick the entire time she’d been inside with Grayson, and started bombarding Y/n’s with questions. All three of them did, but Y/n simply shrugged and told them that she was going to head home.

But before that, she walked into the room again, telling them that she was going to see if Adelaide wanted to drink some milk.

Closing the door behind her with her foot, Y/n tried her best to ignore Graysons piercing gaze as she moved to sit on the bed, wiggling around until she got comfortable, all the while cooing at her whimpering daughter.

"Now now, it’s okay baby. Let’s get some sleep, yeah?"

Adelaide merely sniffled as Y/n began popping open the buttons of her shirt.

"What- what are you doing?"

Y/n glanced up at the father of her daughter, her eyebrows raised.

"What do you think I am doing?"

He turned away, focusing on the far wall, refusing to look at her as she tried to get Adelaide to feed, as if he hadn’t seen her chest before.

It made Y/n want to laugh, but she controlled herself and instead turned all her attention to her daughter.

Y/n tried her best for five whole minutes before giving up, concluding that her daughter was not hungry. Though she could not, for the life of her, figure out what was wrong with her.

"What happened to my love? You haven’t soiled your pants either. Is something else bothering you?"

By this point, Grayson had turned back to look at the two. Quietly, he walked closer and settled down next to Y/n, his eyes on the bundle in her arms.

Y/n watched him, already knowing what was going through his head. She had always read him like a book since they were children. It was nothing new.

"Can I… hold her?"

Y/n did nothing for a moment, then sighed, glancing down at Adelaide before silently extending her arms. He glanced up at her, his eyes wide.

"Hurry up or I’m taking her home."

Panic flashing across his face, he tried to take Adelaide, but it was clear he had forgotten to function properly as he fumbled with his hands, then turned to Y/n for help.

Y/n had to hide her smile at the vulnerability in his gaze as she instructed him on how to position his hands, and then she set Adelaide in them.

For the first few moments, he did nothing but stare at the sniffling babe, but when she stopped and stared at him curiously, his emotions broke loose.

Y/n watched as his eyes that were fixed on the cooing babe filled with silver. As slowly, those silver droplets made their way down high cheekbones and dropped off his jaw. He silently stared at her, and Y/n let herself wipe away those water droplets gently from his skin.

"She has your eyes." She mumbled, though she did not have to because Grayson could not stop looking at those wide eyes that stared back at him, her crying and fussing long forgotten as she lay in her father’s arms.

He nodded his head, the side of his lip quirking. "Hey, you."

Adelaide giggled, turning her head away. The smile remained on her face when Grayson chuckled.

Y/n just watched the two, the sight making her think of what could have been had Skye not interfered.

Grayson, holding a newborn baby in his arms, the biggest smile on his face. Him taking his daughter and her mother home from the hospital. Him staying up at night when his daughter cried. Him trying to get Y/n to rest because she was so tired. Him watching Adelaide smile for the first time. Him hearing her giggle for the first time.

Maybe, just maybe, him falling in love with Y/n just as much as she had been with him.

Had Y/n gone to Grayson to tell him about her pregnancy before she met Skye that day like she had planned, could she have lived the life and provided Adelaide all the happiness she had just dreamed of?

Maybe.

Y/n hadn’t gone to tell Skye about the fetus she grew in her womb, of course. But Skye had asked Y/n’s father to meet because of some business related issue, and even though Y/n was skeptical, she had let her father drag her to visit Skye under the reasoning that Y/n needed some fresh air.

Y/n knew her father was just looking out for her because he could not see her moping around in her room any longer, and Y/n would never blame him for trying to cheer her up. He knew about her pregnancy and did not care that it was out of wedlock. He just wanted his princess happy, and if it meant keeping her engaged, then he was going to do it.

The whole time during the meeting with Skye, she had her mind on the unexpected nature of her pregnancy.

She kept thinking about how a lot of people who actually wanted kids would have to try for months, sometimes years to get pregnant. Y/n was a biology student, so she knew how getting pregnant could sometimes be tricky.

And here she was, pregnant because of what the father of her future child had deemed a mistake.

It was laughable, really, what her life had become in the mere matter of weeks.

Too in her mind, Y/n had not been paying much attention. And Skye was not one to miss details.

She had cornered a scared Y/n, and then threatened her while her father sat in the next room, worrying for his daughter.

"Y/n?"

She blinked, coming back to the present and meeting Grayson’s eyes.

"Yes?"

He nodded his head down to the baby that continued giggling in his hands that seemed too big compared to her little body.

"I said you can take her." Y/n did, gathering a smiling Adelaide in her arms, ignoring the pang of sadness as she stared at the happiness that radiated off her daughter just by being held by the man who sired her.

Maybe that was how father daughter relationships were meant to be. Loving, caring. The type of relationships where the child just needed to be held by her father to lift her mood.

It reminded Y/n of how a lot of people she had met had fathers who did not care about them, and they had lived together their whole lives.

And she could not help but think about how even though Grayson had only known about Adelaide’s existence for less than a week, he still held such love for her. So much love that Y/n knew that if he had to move mountains to see her smile, he would. She could see it in the protectiveness and love that shone in his eyes.

Grayson would have been the best father ever. And I took that from him.

Y/n stood, gathering her things all while holding Adelaide. She was about to walk to the door when she was stopped by Grayson’s voice.

"I… I am leaving tomorrow."

Her blood chilled.

"You- what?"

He nodded, tugging at his sleeves.

"I know I made you uncomfortable with my unwanted presence the past few days. And I am so sorry for that. I was not thinking of how you must’ve felt, and I am not proud of what I did. I just wanted to hold her once because I know I don't deserve to hold her twice."

He sighed, meeting Y/n’s gaze. "I hope you can find it in you to forgive my sins. I never wanted to hurt you, but I was hurting myself and I did not- I…" He shook his head, then stepped forward. "I might be leaving, Y/n, but promise me. If you ever need someone, be it for your own self or Adelaide’s. If you think you need help, do not hesitate to call me. Taking care of a child is tricky, we both know that. I will come, Y/n. Anytime."

Grayson had walked impossibly closer, and Y/n had to crane her neck to keep eye contact with him. And when he pressed his lips to her forehead, her breath hitched.

"Why are you leaving?"

The kiss had done something to Y/n, she was sure. Because what was supposed to be just a thought had become a reality in the matter of a moment.

Grayson offered Y/n a sad smile. "I want to stay, Y/n. I do. But I know it might make you uncomfortable. I want to be present for her the way my father never was, but I also care for you. I will not stay." He bent to press a kiss to Adelaide’s head, who continued to stare at her father with wide, unblinking eyes.

Grayson straightened, his eyes shining with determination and a silent, wordless plea. "Unless you want me to."

Neither of them wanted to break eye contact.

Y/n knew what he was saying. Begging for, really. And she wanted the same thing he did.

But, there was that doubt again.

Would he stay? Would he really?

What if he left, just like his father? How could Y/n trust him?

If it was just her, she would have welcomed her love with open arms.

But it was not just her anymore. Y/n was a mother. She had to look after her daughter and decide what was best on her behalf until she herself could do that.

And Y/n did not know whether telling Grayson to stay without thinking would end up making her life better or just doom her and her daughter.

She needed time to think, and so, she backed off.

She looked away from those pleading, loving eyes of a father who wanted to take responsibility for the life he had helped bring in this world, the begging eyes of her best friend who wanted to talk to her again like before, the beautiful eyes Y/n had loved that shone with unshed tears, and walked away.

Away and out the door, to the car that waited for her, leaving behind a broken man more broken.

Leaving behind a piece of herself with him, even as the two souls connected in a way never before as tears rolled out of their eyes.

As two souls cried for things lost and each other, a new hope blossomed in the heart of the mother.

Perhaps there was a chance for happiness for her daughter.

°•°•°•○🌑○•°•°•°

Mine taglist: @aaronwarnerobsessedmylove @blocked-zombieartist @lillycore @lanterns-and-daydreams @bubybubsters

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The Inheritance Games Taglist: @dahliawarner @thena101 @yucanbmylxdy @sheisntyou

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Idk if anyone brought this up yet but is Malleus calling Yuu "Child of man" supposed to be a reference to Jesus having the title "Son/Child of man"? There's already a few references to religion in TWST so I'm just curious

... Wouldn't that imply Yuu is some Jesus-like figure in the narrative 😭 when they don't actually do that much/j Personally, I don't think that's the case! The strongest religious themes that I can glean are featured in an event that isn't tied to the main story, Glorious Masquerade (it makes sense given the source material and is vague enough to not be in reference to one specific religion, though the same sense of general spirituality is still there). I don’t know if the devs would intentionally include religious ideas when it is specifically aimed at the player character when it doesn't really serve a purpose there (especially when this would be putting a spotlight on a few specific religions, ie the ones with Jesus in them, over others) and could potentially alienate non-religious fans or fans who follow religions that don't include Jesus at all. It is for these reasons that I think the "child of man" thing is just a quirk of Malleus's completely unrelated to religion. It’s a pretty common trope in fiction for non-human creatures to refer to humans as “children of man”. However!! I do think that you can still read the text that way if you wish. (I asked a religious friend of mine and they reported that they did see the phrase as an allusion to Jesus.) Maybe I just don't see the religious aspect of it because I'm not religious myself. Part of why TWST is great is because it can have mass appeal and many different interpretations depending on the player/fan, so honestly I'd encourage you to not take my opinion as fact. Everyone is allowed to see the story and its characters however they wish! Brief aside, as I've mentioned in an older post, "child of man" is not actually a nickname Malleus exclusively grants to Yuu. It is not given capitalization (which would make it a proper noun referring only to a specific individual, say “the Chief of Police” or “Principal [Name here]”) meaning the term is not meant for Yuu and Yuu alone. Additionally, Malleus is shown to also use the term to refer to groups of humans—and this is what I believe the intended use of the phrase is. It ("child of man") is actually a general noun to refer to other non-fae beings, whether a single one (be it Yuu or other characters) or multiple people. Note how Malleus uses “a” before “child of man”, implying there is more than one, rather than Yuu being the only one. I think part of this confusion comes from some fans who do use child of man as a proper noun ("Child of Man") or treat it as a special nickname Malleus gives to Yuu. So if the Jesus thing were hypothetically intentional, then every non-human is Jesus/j

Here are some examples (which are in EN, but it is the dialogue is same in JP as well; the text screenshot comes from MysteryShopTLs’ Malleus Broomquet vignette translation, as there is currently no official EN version of the card.)

[april]

i wonder if the (at least previous) reputation of broccoli as "the food all children hate" was caused by a legitimate distaste caused by improper disposal of bad broccoli in generations prior.

i wonder this because i can't in good faith believe that the majority of children find the taste of broccoli inherently disagreeable. broccoli tastes fucking good, and i've held that opinion since i dared to try it. i was at the right age to be watching Codename: Kids Next Door and to think that the joke of "kids hate broccoli" was just the result of adult writers projecting their childrens' eating quirks onto all children, or simply just making shit up.

but let me tell you something, something i've only just discovered properly for myself. when broccoli goes bad it smells fucking putrid. a dirty steamer used to cook broccoli, the water in it turned green, that's unpleasant and motivates me to clean it within a day. but two heads of broccoli in an indoor food waste caddy for a couple of days and i thought something might have died in that corner of the kitchen.

and let me tell you something else. children's brains are incredibly associative. or at least, mine was. when i was five, i went completely off my absolute favourite kind of sandwich because i saw something i found really disgusting while eating one.

my hypothesis is that exclusively eating frozen broccoli is a really recent thing. i know refrigerators aren't that old, but even refrigerated, i imagine bad broccoli reeks really easily. let a child get one waft too many of that smell, and the connection might form that that's just what broccoli smells like. doesn't matter how fresh and delicious it actually is, if it's too close to the bad smell, the bad smell is what they will think of.

[ms0milk]

𝟗 | 𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐭

ー✧ prince!bakugou x royal guard!reader

"You are mine."

no cw bkg is no poet laureate. the curtain falls on y/n's business formal era. a long overdue confrontation, an eerie garden, IV drip of catharsis, romance a la knock down drag out fight, and an unexpected guest. memories of Alderan monsoons. we're halfway through, folks. the prince and his guard are more similar than they'd like to admit 5.8k

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glossary lmao featherbit is what happens when you're shooting with feather fletching (not plastic) and you don't move the thumb supporting the arrow out of the way fast enough. the feathers move so fast they slice your hand-- i once had to pull some out of my bone, they really get in there. i practiced archery with a bunch of old women as a kid so this might be their special term and not technically accurate. not sure, pls enjoy :)

In the interim between spring and summer, there are a few weeks filled with rage. Fights break out in the kitchens, porcelain shatters at the market. Children used to bumps and bruises suddenly snap the necks off their dolls in the moments after stubbing toes or pinching fingers.

The string of your bow snapped in a tight draw this past spring, while you were training in the forests beyond Aldera’s gates. The nocked arrow bucked sideways with no clear direction and panicked into the ground a few feet away but not so aimlessly that it didn’t catch your bowhand with its fletching first. You screamed that day, for the first time you ever remember and not because it hurt. A quirk like a sneeze maybe. You screamed again, something pent-up and ferocious, after biting the feathers from the thick of your thumb and then calmly packed up to go home.

When misfortunes pile up, there isn’t a person alive that won’t eventually snap. That’s what May is for, that’s all May is for. Those few weeks before summer are especially unlucky and nothing else, and the rage doesn’t mean a thing. Takoba is a vacuum and the prince is fire and you are a jar, nothing else. It doesn’t mean anything that your fingers are twitching, or that it’s October.

In the sandpit of Aizawa’s training quarters, Takoban soldiers watch on as Uraraka finally convinces you to shoot for her. They whisper on the sidelines sipping from their waterskins, chatting, gossiping all half dressed in some combination of armor and day clothes, or some just look. More than a few only watch you, somewhat apprehensive of the Alderan girl who fired into a crowd with no discipline from Aizawa.

In fact, the Master watches the pit now from his office above the sprawling arena, nursing black tea and a scowl.

You ready a borrowed bow. It’s so natural, the weight of the weapon in your bicep and the sting of fresh strings under your fingertips. “This one’s mine!” Uraraka beams while you repeatedly draw the empty string to your cheek and lower it again for adjustments, “I’m a terrible shot so it doesn’t get much use.”

For a week it’s been this. Training with the timid soldiers and their sweet apprentice captain. Declining a great many invitations from Kaminari and Mina to sleepover. Rising earlier than dawn, banishing the guard sent to watch your door and searching again for your prince. Avoiding the kitchens. Memorizing every corner of the seashell castle in cold autumnal hallways, its sprawling outer walkways battered by sea air, and studying all of the history parsed out in seedsized carvings along odd walls.

For someone so loud, your prince is adept at hiding. For someone so highly trained, your ego cannot take much more of this. Every morning spent searching for someone who thinks nothing of you unless it is to torment.

When the prince is at home he hardly dresses daintily, opting instead for hunting vests and all their loops and hooks for weapons. He wears gold and furs at home, so do you. In Takoba he wears stiff linens with silver climbing from the cuffs. Little blue bows to tie closed his tunic like a viscous babydoll. If you couldn’t still feel his hands at your throat you would laugh.

Shinsou is off running errands for his master and so your only other companion is Sero, gangly as ever, and grinning sleepily as he watches beside Uraraka and her men. “I haven’t seen you shoot in years, Y/n!”

“Why have you seen me shoot at all?” You murmur as you reach into the quiver at your hip to select an arrow. There’s no gallery in Jeanist’s arena at home so unless a lord or lady would like to stand amongst sparring soldiers there is no place to watch you train.

You finger through the decorative fletching and select the one that reminds you most of your queen. Oilslick green, feathers every shimmering color of a peacock sewn to a white birch shaft.

Everyday you find him at lunch, your prince and his friends, growling and smiling through their food in the Great Hall with all the other hundreds of castle staff taking meals. Everyday you station yourself outside the Hall, safe from lunch rush crowds, and everyday he must pass you to leave. You can follow him then. Noon is when you begin your shift. He doesn’t grunt or rumble or speak a single word. Not once all week has he looked at you and no longer do you want to watch him.

Uraraka beams, “Bullseye and lunch is on me!”

“Lunch is free,” you whisper through the draw of your nicely nocked arrow. The bowstrings sit heavy under your fingers as you pull strength to your shoulders in Alderan form. Hips grounded, back straight, shoulders bulging under the pressure, familiar and sore is the draw of a bow and arrow.

Hands trembling, sweat pooling, legs clenched and chest heaving, no matter how often you work your body to exhaustion you can feel him near you. Baths and laundry do not wash away the too soft touch of his hands. Even if it’s only to yawn– to blink– each time your eyes close the prince’s flushed face comes to you, and even more haunting than that is how cold you feel when those same eyes open again. How pitiful your appetite for remembering humiliation. You ready your body to shoot.

You haven’t trained for fifteen years just to miss a shot in front of foreign company. It’s perfect, you are perfect, you know exactly where this arrow will land and how to get it there, like a magnet the arrowhead screams bullseye. You draw tighter, pull the green fletching close enough to your cheek that it’ll cut you on release because the pain will distract from this rock between your ribs, the suffocating anguish tucked under your heart. It helps to hold your breath.

Prince Bakugou's eyes haven’t changed a single time in his life. Wet and worried in a violent carriage. Disinterested in passing on your way to class, bored and rolling when his mother stops to speak with you. Conceited around a campfire. Viscously entertained in windy hallways. No matter what they’re looking at, you will never mistake them, no matter where he is you will find them.

He’s watching you somehow now, you can feel it.

“Kats wait, look!” Sero hollers just loudly enough that you’re shaken from the memories and again focus on aiming. By now the soldiers around him grow impatient and they groan when Sero shouts again, “drinks‘er on Ochako if Y/n hits the mark!”

“I did not say that.”

Above the arena, beside Aizawa’s office, a great distance away, is a little blue balcony and its little blue princess. Right beside her, your prince glowers and slows to a halt as she does. It is well before noon.

Uraraka tries to calm the growing excitement from the crowd, “Princess Fuyumi, please note I said no such thing!” But her soldiers only chuckle and whistle when the princess pretends not to hear her.

What are they doing together? You flex the tips of your fingers just enough to cause pain. Bakugou is not merry, he swells too wide without his cape, he is without champion and so he is not safe and gods how he sucks the soul from a room.

Steady.

Blood red eyes glow from under his fair hair as they always do and they brand you like two pinpoint spotlights. He doesn’t pay attention to Sero chiding or Uraraka bemoaning her wallet or the princess waving her lacey handkerchief beside him. He only watches you.

Smooth pressure like a papercut at your cheekbone and the tension in your shoulders disappears as it always does when an arrow goes flying. Release. For a second you do think you smile.

Perfect center. Finally you breathe again when the room bursts into laughter and clapping, lowering your aiming fingers from your cheek when you look up to the balcony. Amid the cheers, Uraraka is the only one to notice oilslick green blooming from the side of your thumb. Blood drips when you make a point to turn, and to bow deeply to the observing princess while Bakugou glares silently beside her. His charged stare closes the noisy distance. It vibrates the feathers that pierce your flesh.

“I suppose we already knew you were an excellent shot!” Fuyumi cups her hands around her mouth so that you can hear the smile in her words.

Overlapping with her glow, savage eyes drink your blood– the blood that seeps between your fingers as you cup your featherbit hand and your weapon with the other and bow even slightly deeper before rising, weeping wound tucked politely behind your back, to catch the your golden prince leading the princess away.

Bakugou skips lunch today. He skips second lunch and tea and attends not a single meeting, and so you spend your entire wretched day searching for him.

What you would have given to stay in Uraraka’s training pit. To spread out in the sand and watch the soldiers laugh and spar while she bandaged your hand. While she scolded you lightly and slipped you sweet cookies to help with the bloodloss. Instead you left with Sero at lunchtime as you always do, to collect your prince from his hiding place.

The rock of your ribs turns to lead when relief hits you before worry. When Bakugou’s golden head doesn’t appear among his friends at their regular table. You cannot know rest until you know where he is and once you find him you will never know rest again.

You’re wandering now like you have been for hours, without direction from one twinkling meeting room to the next. From silly tea parlors, to the armories, to cartography offices, all empty of the Alderan Prince.

You don’t miss your mother often. In fact, there’s a warm wet hole where her face should be when you think back on golden fields and cotton aprons. You do miss Aldera, obviously you do, and with each mission’s obstacle it becomes more and more clear that home will never be what you left it as. Home will never again be dazzling your queen or hunting with your master, it will be dousing the prince’s flames. Aldera will never again be verdant and protective, it will be Bakugou’s hands on your throat and hips and cheeks and surely he will kill you.

Passing a tidying chambermaid or lazing guard, Takoba Castle has opened up. The prince’s chambers still evade you, but you’re no longer lost in chilly halls or tripping on the odd floor runner. Staff don’t stare anymore. A lord or lady might shirk away from your halberd but they don’t seem too concerned with the woman attached to it. Takoba is getting quieter. In your prince’s distance this week something like peace grows.

A collection of hardly audible voices are the first things to stir the castle in hours and you turn under the stairwell archway to mark where they come from. It’s easily evening now, cold sunsets tipping through windows you happen to pass.

“No– of course I will, but I don’t think–”

“Not for you to think about.”

Winding soft around nothing the voices become distinctly two. One of them is clearly a growling Alderan and as you climb up the tight butlers’ stairwell, the grandeur of an east wing walkway spills over your face with that same sleepy sun. Seaglass Hall. A mnemonic device from your week of wandering; the ceiling of this appendage hallway like so many others in the castle is made of bottled glass, but in the east, only in the east, is it in shades of seafoam green.

Your eyes land squarely on Prince Bakugou, peering startled into the stairwell’s darkness and framed by the archway you trudge through. You’re not sure how much longer you can survive the sight of your jewelry twinkling in his ears. His gold is awash in soft greens beside Deku, who sinks into the shadows under such cool-toned light and you speak before thinking while dusting your hands on your trousers, “Is this where you’ve been hiding?”

Bakugou hasn’t so much as frowned at you since the incident in the kitchens. Besides the archery demonstration this morning, he hasn’t even flicked his hateful eyes in your direction. He hides, he’s hiding, the way he’s kept to himself this week is different than dislike and now the death of your peace is palpable.

You pretend not to feel your pulse jump when his lips part, before he remembers that you are no longer worth speaking to. Is that what he’s thinking as his jaw clenches? He rights himself from standing casually with Deku to his usual intimidating loom. As his pretty red eyes drift through the empty hallway and do a terrible job of hiding his frustration with your words.

There is a crater distance between you and family, between you and any semblance of familiar and soft or vulnerable and whose fault is that? So often it’s no one’s– it’s the queen and her station, it’s Jeanist and his rank, it’s your dead mother, it's the uniform you wear and the eyes that interpret it, it’s the soldiers who drink together and who salute when you walk past, sometimes it’s the color red, sometimes it’s recovering from an injury, it’s in the sympathy of strangers, it’s in your muscles and your favorite weapons and your inability to lose.

Even if only for a second, down the hallway, as you move forward Bakugou seems to lean back.

Deku perks up behind the broad frame of your prince who has begun to puff like a cat in the lengthy silence, and even though you haven’t had much of a chance to speak with the little champion past your accidental spat in the throne room, he doesn’t seem bothered by the memory or by the prince who seethes as he’s talked over.

“He’s all yours Y/n! I’m sorry, didn’t realize you were looking for him.”

Where Bakugou should have snapped or snatched, he only stills. No barking, not even a cross of his arms. He turns his head away as you approach as if pretending to roll his eyes but the prince you know doesn’t shrink in his anger. If he truly wanted you to meet his irritation all he’d need to do is blink. All else fails, he could just grab you again– a puppet on strings pulled too close and smile as you fall to pieces. It worked so well last time.

All three of you seem to realize more words won’t cure this quiet and as Bakugou peels away to storm down the hall, the little champion nods his goodnights sympathetically and gestures through the seaglass after him.

Maybe this is what the sea looks like beneath its frothing waves? Maybe it’s quiet like this, sun bleeding through cool light at lengths immeasurable and asking at a whisper for you to follow.

“Royal summons. Kacchan hates being late.”

Maybe this is what hell looks like? Maybe the heat of the setting sun through stained glass is a warning and your prince, a golden fire, is just a trick the light can use to draw you in like a bug who doesn’t know better. Bakugou’s broad shoulders shrink the longer you let him get away. Maybe you shouldn’t fall for it again.

“Thank you, Champion.”

When Deku slips down the stairwell you came up from, peace truly dies at sea.

Ten and some years ago was Aldera’s wettest summer. Thunderstorms, flooding, bugs like you wouldn’t imagine– most of the season was spent rescuing crops and standing still in rare breezes, but the children had school.

Between training and sleep you dragged yourself to class with civilian kids to learn numbers and poems that would do nothing to protect the queen, in a room full of people too nervous to speak with you. Green lightning ripped through the afternoon sky and caused such bruises that the clouds turned purple. Rain pelted the castle walls sideways.

You were late. You fell asleep standing on shift in the North Wing, tricked into resting your head on the wall from the lull of storm on stone and so when you remember this day the first thing that comes to you is sprinting through golden halls, school bag spanking your hips and back. Sliding down the banister of the Main Hall as if it were a playground, a swift turn under the maiddoor and then a mad dash to the East Wing where your lessons were bound to have started without you. Thunder shook the castle.

The sound of rain grew louder and after bounding round the building you realized why. In one of the four hallways overlooking the courtyard, wind, rain, and debris sailed through the line of open windows and beneath them an exquisitely detailed rug drank up the water that pooled inside. As the red and gold details wet, the castle seemed to be bleeding. It slipped beneath the floorboards and the space was soaked in an ancient smell that could only be dredged out of wood by divine floodwater.

If you were old enough to know the words, curses might have sprung from your mouth as you abandoned the school mission to seal your home back up. At eleven years old this was no easy task. Perhaps the bugs hiding in their trees outside laughed as they watched you leap to catch the first great window frame and drag it down shut. Maybe the birds winced as water filled your school bag and plastered your hair hot across your throat– at your soldier’s uniform, already too big, clinging to your bones now that the rain had taken them too.

The queen loved her art, she loved every floor runner and tapestry, and you would not watch on as the wilderness tried to reclaim her castle. As an adult now, fighting the rain for a rug is of course too silly to be noble but at eleven it was the most important thing in the world. You burned with purpose. You burned too with embarrassment, at the state of your uniform no other child wore and the mess of your hair even as you refused to take shelter or call for help. Then Aldera’s little prince rushed onto the scene from the opposite end of the hall.

Oh how you could have laughed at the state of it all. At Bakugou, scrawny and pretty and dressed up in jewels like he’d just come from an party, and at the thought of what he saw when he turned the corner. Besides how silly you knew you looked, the comedy of the situation hit you for a moment as curtains of rain, branches, and wind whipped inside the eight still-open windows between you.

It was the first of many days you would feel painfully ridiculous beside your beautiful prince. When an unripe peach sailed inside on the gales and cracked you over the head, the pity in his soft eyes stung. This was not how a royal guard should hold herself. Her hair should be kept back, her face should remain neutral, and most of all her cursed uniform was supposed to fit.

As you were knocked off balance, the prince jerked towards you but before he could take a full step into the storm another few fruits were dislodged from their tree and whipped inside around rain and leaves. Bakugou too was clocked in the head, a peach to his cheek and caught another before it could fly into his mouth and knock out a tooth.

As the pair of you righted yourselves and the hallway grew wetter, the thought of class felt too cruel. The decision between your queen’s rugs and her son, too overwhelming– which should you shelter? A bruised prince or a ruined hallway, which would the queen hate more? Your redemption for falling asleep on duty kept drifting farther away, and then Bakugou began to laugh.

He reached up for the window closest to him and shut it tight with a little hop and a whip of his shoulder. A vine of lightning lit the hallway in negatives for a moment.

He grinned, “Get outta here!” And tossed the peach in his fist across seven open stormy windows to you.

Bakugou’s hands are always fists and if you had known this when you were eleven it wouldn’t have charmed you so much. When the prince cracked a smile in the petulant wind tunnel something light like wheat fields came to life inside of you.

“Yes sir.”

As if reading your mind, the grown prince growls when you catch up to him in the Takoban hallway.

Bakugou takes up too much space to hide from anything. He could suck the air from the room like a great big fireplace if he truly wanted to and suffocate every soul inside, so it’s somewhat remarkable, as you fall behind him, that you aren’t brought to your knees or sent through the pretty glass ceiling.

Why doesn’t he speak? What right does he have to be acting strange after pulling you apart for all to see?

The sky through the ceiling above you shifts quietly to purple as the sun sets, although anything but blue feels wrong in Takoba. Immediately at the thought, the red glow of the kitchens plays over the backs of your eyes and your focus darts down again to those dangerous hands you keep at a distance. Bakugou flexes them as he steps.

His big hands dance. At no more than a step or two behind your prince, marching together down the longest hallway you’ve ever seen, you can’t quite look away from his fists under the bottlegreen light. Truly, they are always fists. Always a threat and a reminder like an iron to a branded dog. His hands that cupped your face and pinched you close in the cursed kitchens, exalted by your fear. They lifted you like you weighed nothing and then they caged you in. His hands are only for pain. Playing tricks around a campfire. They are only good for fighting, sweaty and tickling with ripping explosions.

Bakugou pretends he can’t feel your warmth at his back as you drift closer.

Those are the hands that tore through a royal crowd and grabbed hold of your nightgown when they thought no one was around to see. They’re thick and violent– they’re soft. Your well-kept rage stirs as you remember. When they brushed your knuckles warm in a cream calm dream or gripped the fabric at your waist on horseback. Plucking splinters from your bloody cheeks. Gentle when they smothered the flames in your hair at the edge of the forest.

The prince jerks to a sudden stop and when you’re too busy watching the ripple of veins in his fingers, you bump into his back. You both flinch on contact; only at the touch do you realize your prince has been keeping you exactly as distant as you him and then that flinch becomes a fling of mismatched magnets when he snaps his head around, you raise yours, and your pair of fraught eyes meet in lieu of shouting. It aches like a strike to the temple.

In a second your prince is turned and down the hallway again towards a set of modest wooden doors still ages away. “Fucking airhead,” he rumbles. The first words all week. Nostalgia turns to ash in your throat.

The seaglass hallway stretches on with no decoration past the stained glass ceiling. From your week of research this is the only path in all of Takoba Castle that leads straight to the ocean. Something about floodwaters and enemy attacks by sea means that this maze of a seashell at least serves a purpose and that this hallway must be special. Your mind races with the possibilities of what your prince has to do on the other side of it. You wish he would speak to you, and then you wince.

What do you miss? Hate-filled spew? You just wish to be rid of this silence you determine, and slow down behind him with generous distance when you both finally approach the exit.

As the prince pulls simple wooden doors apart a great gust of salted air blows the loose hairs around your face with a horrible tickle and where you expect the sea, iron and blue flowers stare back instead. You and your golden prince look over some kind of solemn garden suspended under the moon.

Aldera is a lush green kingdom, Takoba is a portside merchant city. You know nature and fields and crops. This garden is man-made and more than that it is poorly kept. Metal flower beds, soil spilling over their lips from holes dug by birds or damage done by sea winds, and eerily, no weeds. Maybe the sea doesn’t carry weeds like rivers do? Only one type of sad blue flower wilting like a bell. The garden is at least as large as Aizawa’s training pit and filled with copies of the same bellflower weeping up trellises or littering the ground but still it feels vast and empty. Like a cemetery with no more plots to offer.

It’s only you two in the cliffside clearing, not a royal in sight. Who summoned him? Bakugou keeps his back to you while stepping between the garden beds and you wonder if he is unsettled too. You’re glad he does not watch you while you begin to wander.

By all calculations this path should have led to the sea but when you approach the precarious edge of the garden there is still a five story drop between you and high tide. The castle is built on a bluff above the beach. A foundation of rock. Below even that, black water stretches spindly fingers in the sand.

Who is this place for? On one side of you, Takoba Castle’s white spires reach into the now-night sky and on the other a deadly drop into the sea. A single type of flower planted over and over again into boxes that could hardly keep them alive. When you happen a glance between your feet, you’re startled by the movement you can see under them. Candles flickering inside a great many feet below you. A garden with a glass floor.

The air becomes suddenly thick with realization as you scan what parts of the clearing aren’t shadowed by clouds passing over the moon. The one door you came through and a steep drop off the edge with no railings. A single way in but decidedly two ways out. This is no garden.

“Hey.”

Something is trying to distract you. Had it not been just the two of you out here, you never would have registered the quiet voice drifting low through the breeze as Bakugou. Gentle? When you don’t turn around he rumbles soft again, “Eyes.”

His second words all week. The sound is warm wool. Bakugou is trying to speak with you and where surprise at his voice should make your heart race, something much more sinister has settled on your pulse. You are not listening, in fact you cut him off with a wave of your hand instead of turning at his shockingly soft cadence.

“Highness, who sent for you?” You demand delicately, back still turned as you skim the ruined garden. This place is meant to be a prison. You shouldn’t be here. Who is it supposed to keep in?

Had you been watching him, you would have caught the prince’s jaw slack and then coil tight again with your dismissal. He holds himself tenser and tenser.

“Highness–” You try again, but his voice, noticeably less gentle, cuts you off.

“Eyes, not n–” It’s your prince’s turn to try again, but this time you spin around to keep him quiet and take the upper hand.

“We have to leave.”

Suddenly you’re approaching him in the center of the garden, weaving over spilt soil and sad flowers faster than he is able to stop you coming closer, and you don’t yet know that there’s a reason he drifted so far away before trying to speak. You are too busy identifying blindspots to notice him curling inward from rage. All you register is his lack of haste and it compounds a preexisting fury in your bones. You can parse out your feelings about his words later, about the way he called to you, about his tenor, about a thousand things– later. Strong is the sea air tonight.

The distance you kept between his hands and your body this week vanishes under the circumstances and now you are so close you should smell the sweet of his ignition begin to drip in anger. Instead you watch shadows over his shoulder and pause in front of him, “Who summoned you?”

“Will you–”

“Highness who–”

“Quiet!”

Faster than immediately, somehow simultaneously, your body registers his threat that you are so practiced in withstanding and you take a steadying step back, no longer hiding your gaze from that which wants to kill you. Up, up, up is his shadowed face and those tiny shining suns that have done too good of a job until now, in protecting him.

The last time you watched each other like this you feared you might have to hurt him. He is a bit taller, he is much more beautiful than you. You wish you could have known him. It is only one terrible second before the shouting begins but in it is your prince’s final moments of softness, what might be fragility under the reds of his eyes, what looks like worry at the corners of his lips, washed over by crimson fumes like an eclipse or the death of a star.

“Highness–”

“Be quiet.”

But you have already had your fill of his golden cheeks and so you turn with your arm outstretched in the direction of the door, “We need to–”

“Are you fucking demented?” He growls. He does not budge. He stares and you no longer have the patience for him. It is slipping from you like sand.

“Walk and talk my prince, we have–”

“Excuse–?”

“Highness,” you hiss back at him and steady your hand on the hilt of your short sword.

You’ve pushed too far because oh how he bites the air now. He spits, “If you cannot–”

“I cannot–”

“– listen–” 

“Come, now.”

“You will listen when I speak.”

“You do not speak to me!” And how you bite back.

He rushes you.

The prince is threatening in the best of situations and when the wall of his body obliterates the space between you, your arms move faster than you’re able to control as they pull your sword from its scabbard. Bakugou flies against your blade as you raise it, pressing his own chest against the flat steel you keep up in defense. You hate to admit that he scares you.

“You will lose the fight you pick with me,” you murmur close enough to taste the air he breathes too close. He does not fight back or raise his hands and sparks do not come to life around you. At your back, Jeanist’s halberd itches to hunt.

“And you will lower your weapon.”

“I am your mother’s soldier, not yours.”

Bakugou bares his teeth to the realization that your obedience has only been a courtesy to this point. Pillowed chest to yours, you are close enough to feel the rumblings of his ribcage. Of his biceps as he holds them still at his sides like two great snakes that would like nothing more than to kill you. Dripping fists. You can see it in the tremble of his throat, his resisting a thousand things, screaming, flying, eating you alive, biting down into the meat of your neck that his lips brush as he bows into your blade– all at once like an implosion. What is he holding back?

“Then run back home to your queen.”

“You are my responsibility.”

“Oh yeah my hero,” he swells and pressed deeper, drawing blood, “my little captain–” The nickname from the night in the kitchens cracks the wax seal of your rage before it can even melt and in seconds you’re losing the fight to contain your ancient violence. Blade now cutting through his tunic and Bakugou still does not pull back. He does not raise his own weapon or his magic and his hands don’t reach for you. “Check that ego, Eyes.”

“I am doing my job!”

“You! The havoc wreaker, charged with my protection? Careful not to make me laugh Captain or I might just slit my throat.”

The threat oozing from this garden is as far as a thought has ever been from your mind while it is otherwise filled with curses. Could you kill him? You will bite through your tongue before holding it. Every time he calls you captain something inside heaves like the sea.

“Do you tire of torture?”

“You think yourself so special?”

“You are a beast!”

“You are insufferable!”

“You suffer my charity easily enough!” You almost want to wince at the shape your prince’s lips make when he remembers the weight of your earrings and he presses so deep into the curve of your body and blade that your foreheads bump in threat.

“Run away home.”

“You are not my queen and not my master.”

“And you are still Alderan!” He snaps sweet, “You are my responsibility!” Sparks come like tears to Bakugou’s eyes and his canines shine when he bares them to you, too close to see the details of his delicate face.  “I am your prince and she’s not here! She is not fighting for her life in Takoba– Fuck the queen!”

“You–!”

“You!”

“You are cruel!”

“And you are mine.”

Somehow the ocean falls. The world stops turning and at the words neither you nor your prince make a single sound.

His scowl melts to shock, jeweled eyes first slits and now wide under slack brows. Blade to his neck and still Bakugou’s hands do not crackle and your breath hardly comes when you need it, and you want to touch him– strike him– you think you might kiss him. You think he might let you, and then comes a voice from the sea.

“Get a room.”

In a shadowed corner of the glass garden your blue ghost bends at the waist to smell bellflowers. His hair is white.

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[theonceandfuturequeenoftarts]

On the morning of what looks to be Harry’s third day of laying in bed and listlessly staring at the wall, Voldemort returns after an early meeting and stares down at him. He can feel the weight of his gaze.

“Do you want me to call for your friends again?”

Harry shakes his head once. He doesn’t want to take their time when he’s such poor company.

“Are you able to walk?” 

He thinks about it. “...Not at this moment, no.” His voice is hoarse from disuse.

One side of Voldemort’s mouth quirks down, and he narrows his eyes. Then, he lifts Harry into his arms (in a bridal carry, of all things. Harry would have things to say about that if he could care) and starts walking towards the ensuite bathroom. Harry slumps, resting his head against the other man’s shoulder. It feels too heavy for his neck to support right now.

“Why Voldemort, this is all so sudden.” He tries to inject some humour into his tone, but it comes out devoid of inflection.

“I simply couldn't wait any longer,” Voldemort says, dry as bones and exactly what Harry was going for.

The older man waves his hand to start filling the bathtub and sets Harry on the counter, reaching for the hem of his oversized shirt.

“Oh, I see how it is. You just wanted to get my clothes off.”

Voldemort’s lips twitch. Victory. “Curses, you’ve found me out. I’m only here for your body.”

With his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, long, pale forearms stark against the dark fabric, Voldemort lowers Harry into the steaming bath. It’s almost too hot, but that just means he can feel it.

Harry lets himself slip under the water for a couple seconds to wet his hair, avoiding Voldemort’s disapproving glare when he surfaces. The other man tsks at him and starts working shampoo through his hair. The strong fingers pressing against his scalp feel heavenly, and he can’t stop himself from canting into those hands like a cat.

The silence is comfortable, but… “I thought I was getting better,” he says, quiet and monotone.

“...Recovery is not linear,” Voldemort replies. “Setbacks are to be expected. Tilt your head back,” he adds, pouring water over Harry’s hair to rinse out the suds.

As the other man lathers up a washcloth, Harry says, “You’re patient.” When Voldemort scoffs lightly, he amends, “With me.”

“Would you rather I weren’t?”

“No. I just… didn’t expect it.”

Voldemort is silent for long enough that Harry assumes he won’t answer. Which is fine. Harry’s not the only emotional minefield in this room, and he knows better than to push the other man on topics like this.

He’s also not up for a heavy conversation right now, either. They can come back to this later, when he’s feeling more alive. He closes his eyes as Voldemort washes his face, neck and shoulders, letting any tension seep out of him and drifting pleasantly.

As he rinses the soap from Harry’s upper body, Voldemort says, “I take care of what’s mine.”

Harry’s eyes slowly blink open. Oh. 

“I trust you can handle the rest?” he continues before Harry can say anything in response, handing him the soap-covered washcloth.

“...Yeah, I can.” Harry hesitates, before saying, “Tell me about your meeting.”

He’s not ready to be alone again.

Voldemort obliges, relating how Lucius Malfoy and Corban Yaxley were at each other’s throat over something foolish again and how his Death Eaters are more often than not merely violent, powerful children. Harry finishes bathing as Voldemort passes along Bellatrix’s love (ugh, why) and asks him to attend the next meeting once he’s recovered. According to Voldemort, Draco Malfoy is never as entertaining as he is when Harry’s there.

And that gets a smile out of Harry, small though it may be.

(originally from The Promptening, but now part of A long, hard road)