#does locke die painfully like i assume he deserves to

[jinmukangwrites]

Whumptober 2021 - October 3 - "Who did this to you?"

Fandoms: Linked Universe

Ao3

Warnings: major injury, attempted murder, blood, near-death experiences

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Trouble comes with a smiling face; not that Wild knows that yet. All he sees is an eager young woman with kind eyes and a humble dress, offering to show him where he can get some wine to cook with tonight.

He and the rest of the heroes have been on the road for quite a while now, without a single town in sight. Nothing but various barns to cross their path. This is the first actual town they’ve seen in miles, even though it’s not a very big one. Yet, there is a small inn for weary travelers, and a marketplace near the front entrance of the town where farmers can sell their goods and towns-folk and gossip. The whole group of them are rather low on funds, but the market seemed like the perfect excuse to relax. Spend some money that they just barely have. Pretend to be normal people for just a few hours.

Just until sunset.

It was Wild, Twilight, Warriors, and Hyrule out in the market while the others were making deals with the innkeepers to get cheaper rooms and more beds. Wild wasn’t really sure what the others were wanting to find out in the market today, but Wild was on the hunt for quality ingredients for quality food that he couldn’t make while on the road. He planned on making a meal tonight fit enough for Zelda herself, and he needed wine to do it. Not to drink, of course not, but to soak into fine slices of meat to add extra flavoring. Nothing strong enough to get a man tipsy—and if he ends up with extra wine, he’ll put it in a flask and gift it to the Old Man. Hylia knows he deserves it.

But he couldn’t find anything even remotely related to wine in these small markets. Some stalls sell alcoholic jars of milk, but Wild honestly has never even heard of milk that could be alcoholic, let alone ever cooked with it. By the time the sun was starting to caress the horizon, frustration was bubbling in his belly because of this and all he could think about were those berries he saw on a tree a few days ago that looked perfect for making some of his own wine out of.

Twilight and Warriors were looking at a jewel-smith's stall, admiring the finely crafted trinkets and murmuring to themselves about the ones that would match her eyes, or impress that gentleman at the tavern, and Wild soon lost interest in both the stall and his love-sick companions. He had stood several feet off, leaning against a brick wall, eyeing the closest stalls to him and hoping for even a small sight of anything close to wine set up for sale.

And then he saw her. Trouble, despite him not knowing it. He didn’t even suspect it. Perhaps he’s gotten too used to the threats of other worlds, that he forgot the threats of his own.

She walked up to him, a swish to her brown dress that seemed to almost have a pink tint. Her hair was brown, done up in messy braids and a bun above her head. Wild assumed she was the daughter of a farmer who was selling crops from their farm, so he didn’t assess her too critically. Before he knew it, she was stopped a few feet from him, swaying her dress side to side between her thin fingers.

“Is there something you’re looking for, travelers?” she asked, her voice sweet like sugared honey. Beside him, Hyrule blushed a bit at the ears.

Wild wasn’t much in a good mood at the moment, but he decided that asking for help might be his only option at this point. “I’m looking for wine, or any kind of beverage like it made out of berries?”

The girl hummed, pressing her finger to her chin in thought. “The most popular beverage ‘round here is milk…” she said, and Wild’s shoulders slumped. But then she continued. “Though, I know a liquor shop further in town where they sell all kinds of drinks. I’ll show you the way, but it closes really soon.”

Hope surged in Wild’s chest. Perhaps he would be able to make a fancy meal tonight after all! Feeling in lighter spirits than he had all night, he told Hyrule to inform Twilight and Warriors that he would be going to the liquor shop. Wild barely noticed the slight hesitation on Hyrule’s face before he turned and did as he was asked. Wild should have noticed it. He should have thought more about how eager and smooth talking the girl was, should have been more in tune with his companion’s concerns, but he followed her out of the market anyway.

And now he’s here, laying on the ground in a pool of his own blood thanks to a hole in his stomach. The “liquor store” was nothing more than an abandoned shop several blocks away from the market, but he only found that out when he walked inside and saw the hastily put together lanterns to give the illusion of life, each one placed among dust and cobwebs. Before he could even turn back and question what was going on, the girl was sliding her arm around his side and heartlessly impaling him with a familiarly curved, sickle-like blade.

Her laugh was also familiar as his knees gave out and he crumpled to the floor, wheezing. Though not familiar in a way that he knew her name; he knew her kind.

“Wh-” he gasps, using one hand to clutch at the floor blanketed in bloody dust, and the other to press onto the wound in his stomach like he’s trying to keep everything in. “What-”

“You’re probably wondering why I’m here, hero,” the girl… Yiga chuckles, stepping over his crumpled body to squat by his head. “To tell the truth, I’m not sure either. I fell into a portal… and found myself in a whole new world. And I saw you, and your friends. I can’t tell you how long I’ve been waiting for the perfect moment to take you down. This is for Master Kohga-” Wild’s too weak to fight her off as she reaches for his body, searching his pockets and taking the only healing potions that he had. “-and for Calamity Ganon. I don’t care what happens to me now, as long as you die painfully and slowly, right here.”

Then, she stands up, takes his potions, and leaves, shutting the door behind her as she laughs into the night.

Stupid. Wild is so stupid. How did he not guess something like this would happen? Did he truly let his guard down so badly that he forgot to always be on the lookout for Yiga soldiers? Has he become so comfortable traveling between worlds that didn’t have rogue Sheikah that it didn’t matter for him to worry about them as much?

He’s going to bleed out and die here, all because he wanted some wine to cook with in a town that only sold fucking milk and he couldn’t bother to make sure the person he was following was actually someone with good intentions. He can already feel his vision swirling, and his entire body feels pathetically weak and cold. The pain is unbearable, bringing tears to his eyes.

He coughs up blood, and does his best to prepare himself for a failure’s death, as he’s too weak to even call for help; let alone try and save himself.

Stupid…

His vision swirls white, and then fades black, and he knows nothing more.

-o-o-o-o-

“Something’s wrong,” Twilight says, several minutes after Hyrule told him and Warriors that Wild had gone off with some farmer girl to find a liquor store.

“Something is wrong,” Twilight repeats when they ask a local villager for directions to the nearest liquor store, and they reply the only alcohol this town sells is the milk in the market.

Hyrule is quick to point out the direction he remembers seeing Wild and the girl go off in, and then they thankfully split up to cover more ground. The second there’s no one to see, Twilight changes into his wolf form, sniffing the air desperately for his kid. Wild’s scent is one that he will always remember, it’s stored and locked within his brain, right next to Mipha, Zelda, and all the kids at Ordon.

He finds Wild’s trail after a nerve wracking few moments, and then he’s dashing through dimly lit streets like his life depends on it.

The feeling of something being horribly wrong only gets stronger when he finds Wild’s scent leading inside a run down looking building with dim, flickering lanterns in the windows. Then, the reek of blood hits his nostrils at full force. He shifts back into his human form and bursts into the front door without a single care on what’s on the other side.

The stench of blood is stronger here, even for his human nose. But that doesn’t matter. What matters is that his eyes drop to the floor along with what feels like a stone in his stomach. Wild is at his feet, curled up like a child, red pooling around his terribly pale body.

“No-” Twilight drops down to his knees, already pulling out his spare red potion and gathering Wild into his arms. Wild makes a strangled groan through his throat, but his eyes are squeezed closed.

He’s alive though. The thought that he’s still alive is the only thing that gives Twilight enough strength to pull out the cork of his jar and shove the opening to Wild’s lips.

Wild chokes as the liquid enters his mouth, but Twilight doesn’t let up. It’s preferable to drink red potions, but when it comes to drastic situations like this, just getting it in the injured person's body is enough to save their lives. Wild coughs through the liquid and writhes in Twilight's arms, and it’s all Twilight can do to keep the bottle there and shakily whisper every comforting word that he knows. Eventually, color returns to Wild’s cheeks, and his eyes blink open blearily as his choking turns into instinctive swallows.

When the contents of the bottle is gone, Twilight lets the glass jar fall to the floor as he now uses his newly freed hand to check Wild’s wound.

It’s still nasty, and deep, but no longer life threatening. Another potion or some stitches and Wild will be as good as new. For the first time in what feels like years, Twilight allows himself to breath out a sigh of intense relief.

“Twi…?” Wild asks, voice incredibly small.

Twilight holds him just a little tighter, willing his heart to calm down. He’s almost… he’s come so close to almost losing-

“Who did this to you?” Twilight demands with a bite to his tone that he doesn’t mean to direct at Wild.

Wild doesn’t react to it though. He just closes his eyes and shakes his head. “It… doesn’t matter…” he replies in a whisper. Twilight feels anger swell in his stomach and he almost argues back, but Wild talks more despite how much it must still hurt. “Later,” he says. “’M hurt, wanna sleep. Deal with… it later.”

Twilight takes a deep breath, counts to five, then lets it out. He doesn’t feel any less upset. However, he keeps his voice level, deciding that arguing with Wild here will just upset the boy more than help him.

“Okay,” he agrees reluctantly. “I’m going to carry you, okay? I’m out of potions, but Wars or Hyrule should be nearby with some of their own. Then we can go get a well deserved sleep.”

Wild simply nods and relaxes into Twilight’s arms, breathing a sigh and closing his eyes. Twilight bites his lip, then resolves himself to hold one of his dearest friends close to his chest as he stands up. There’s blood everywhere, staining his hands, his tunic, his boots, his pants. But he got here in time. Wild will be okay.

That’s all that matters now. Once Wild has all his color back and his stomach no longer has a hole in it… then Twilight can make sure whoever did this regrets being born.

“I got you, kid,” he says, “I got you.”

#linked universe #wild linked universe #twilight linked universe #whumptober2021 #no.3 #who did this to you? #blood tw #injury tw #violence tw #fanfiction #jin writes

[wizkiddx]

i loved your blurb the other day . i have a request off it if you could do one more domesticated about the little things tom does in a relationship?

Ooooh I loved loved loved this request!! In my head he is a complete romantic sap at heart <333 this is a lot more wordy that I normally write and bit concerned it is a shitter - feedback would be well appreciate, if you have any opinion on which crappy writing style I do less badly :///

Summary: the boring and domesticated day to day life with Tom

warnings: look really close an a bit of implied smut, but otherwise sickeningly nice stuff I think ahah

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Given his rather unique position and place in the world - your relationship with Tom was also very much not typical. By no means did that mean worse though - Tom meant the world to you; as you did him. Yes, at times it was tough - the distance, the tightly scheduled face times because of the time difference. But every time you saw his crinkly smile, it was almost set in stone everything was worth it. He was, most definitely, worth it. 

Especially as he was such a sap. Perhaps because some of the things he did that brought rushes of heat to your cheeks - Tom wasn’t even aware of. Of course, Tom being Tom, he obviously did the bigger things and spoilt you rotten - which you were never going to complain about - though those weren’t the things that made your heart flutter so inexplicably. 

Take yesterday for example. Tom had just got back home from a long filming shoot for SM3 and it was fair to say you’d both been pining over each other enormously. Once he was back though, none of that mattered. The pair of you had spent almost a full 18 hours in bed, before eventually you’d pulled away from the pouty boy, due to your desperate need of a shower. That was too far away from you in Tom’s opinion though- meaning you’d had a shared shower too. Purely for water saving + environmental purposes , or at least, that had been his justification. It was intimate but not sexual, leading to the two of you wrapped in towels in the marble bathroom. Busying yourself with your skincare, you weren’t paying any mind to your boyfriend, who you assumed to be faffing about as usual. That was until you felt a gentle tug on the back of your towel dried hair. Instantly you locked eyes with warm brown ones looking back at you through the slightly fogged up mirror, panning down to see the hair brush in his hand. 

“What’re you doing?” You laughed gently, leaning back onto his bare torso, still slightly damp from the humidity lingering in the bathroom air. 

“ ‘jus’ brushin your hair, I haven’t got all the lotions and potions to spend hours on.” Cheeky bugger. Sweet but with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes - as he watched you roll yours. 

“If I phoned Rach and said you weren’t following her-“ Cut off by his lips craning round to meet yours, you decided not to fight it, instead melting into his embrace while turning round - your body still only wrapped in the towel tucked under your arm. After a few moments Tom paused to whisper a shh against your lips, before painfully slowly moving against yours again. God knows, you would’ve stayed in that moment forever if you could however you did also still have moisturiser only half rubbed in on your face, like warpaint. So, you turned back around finishing off in the mirror and very much enjoying the sensation of Tom still hovering behind,  ever so gently working the brush through your hair. It took much longer than it should have for you to finish off, mainly because you spent the time watching him in the mirror concentrate, especially the way he pressed his tongue against the inside of his left cheek in concentration. 

After the pair of you had finally got ready for the day (at 3 in the afternoon but no one had to know), you’d gone out for a walk with his parents. Naturally you spent the majority of the time gossiping with Nikki slightly ahead of the Dom and Tom - who were no doubt talking about golf or something equally as dull. Tom loved to say that he found how close you and Nikki got as terrifying - really you both knew he only adored you more for it. Family was everything to Tom and given poor Nikki’s immediate surroundings of pure testosterone, when you became integrated into the family it was like a breath of fresh air. And you didn’t smell of boy - which to her was a win. 

It was a beautiful early evening and the sun was slowly creeping its way toward the horizon, changing the light from a brilliant white to a more golden hue - basking the four of you and Tess in the glow. You’d all come to a natural halt whilst Tess had gone a bit mental chasing squirrels. It just worked out that the sun was opposite you and though the evening was beautiful, dealing with it head on , in your eyes, was not the most enjoyable. Before you could even reach your arm out to shield yourself from the sun,  the light was blocked out, a shadow casting over your forehead. 

Now what’s important to note here is Tom is by no means a tall man. He wasn’t a midget but it would be fair to say that all 5 foot 8 of him was ‘below average height’. Not that it let him stop being a sun block for you and you really did try not to giggle as your furrowed brows caught site of his raised heels. This boy was literally standing on his tiptoes to stop the sun getting in your eyes for god sake. He noticed your grin though and as if it was the most normal thing in the world just shrugged his shoulders before engaging back in his parents conversation. You weren’t as quick to recover, honestly having to take a moment to swallow down your glee. 

Afterwards, you’d gone straight back the Holland family home as they all wanted to celebrate Tom and Harry’s return- what better way than having Sam the master chef himself cook you all a three course meal? As if choreographed both of you had taken the seats next to each other… but not in a clingy way at all, Paddy was interrogating you on how the hell you’d beaten him at the classic game of mariokart (which you would never let him live down) whilst Tom and Harry were recounting one of their many tales of filming to Nikki. Once the plates of food were served out to you by the esteemed chef, Tom wasted no time in skilfully and subtly piling the greens of vegetables and salad off your plate and onto his. You’d never dream of offending Sam by insulting his cooking, really you did love it - there was just something about rabbit food that you had to put your foot down at. Perhaps it was because it was literal leaves? Things that you used to feed to your pet hamster perhaps? It was a constant source of bickering between you, Tom and Harry- they claimed you’d end up dying because of the lack of leaves in your diet, which you strongly contested. Fruit and some veg was allowed but salad- stay the hell away.

Anyway it didn’t matter, you wouldn’t have to face that debate tonight because Tom had you covered. He always had you covered. 

Finally, the night rolled round which you were so thankful for, considering even though you’d had an extortionate amount of time in bed last night - not a lot of it had actually been spent asleep. Combine that with the wine you’d been happily sipping on in celebration, it pretty much explained the situation you found yourself in now. Eyes bobbing up and down as the TV drifted in and out of focus, the slow and gentle thud of Tom’s heartbeat lulling you into that floaty place. You didn’t fight the drowsiness because really, nestled between the cushions of the sofa and Tom’s chest, you didn’t want to be anywhere else. Letting your eyes slide shut completely, you took a deep breath in and nuzzled into his chest- barely registering how he lightly chuckled at the action. Tom just took the time to look down at you, pressing the most gently kiss to the crown of your head. Moments like this would never not be his favourite. Don’t get him wrong, he loved your wit and sarcastic charm when you were more conscious… but something about how comfortable you were to be completely vulnerable with him, gave him a purpose. He would never be able to wrap his head around why you’d let him - how he deserved this was beyond him but he was so bloody thankful for it. 

Your hand that was splayed on his stomach caught his eye, you still had your bracelet on from the meal and he knew you hated sleeping with any jewellery on. Instinctively then, Tom ever so gently manipulated the clasp and skilfully removed the silver chain - reaching over and placing it on the little coffee table. Having spent 3 months without you within 100 miles of him, Tom was more than willing to wake up with back ache if it meant spending the night on the sofa with you like this. The gentle grasp on your wrist had roused you a little though. 

It was always the simple things that made your heart burst - like the bracelet . Or like his little raspy whisper, voice tired and thinking you were asleep. Even if everything else disappeared, it would still be the greatest life if you had Tom there saying this. 

“Your home Y/n… you and me forever…

…until u die from not eating ur greens.”

#tom holland #tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tomholland #Tom Holland angst #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you

[yan-twst]

hey there! i love your work! can i request the dorm leaders + their darling dying? particularly if it was due to an accident, the dorm leader’s own actions/punishments, or even (if you’re comfortable writing about the topic) by their own hand? thank you! 💞 i hope you’re doing well ~

warnings: this is just dark like very dark and messed up! mentions of death, violence, abuse, blood, self harm- like, everything like that is here. on top of that general yandere warnings. this one is heavy on violence and abuse so please be careful when reading if this could affect you! (-｡-;) also lots of mentions of stuff that could be potentially triggering to people with eating disorders!

riddle rosehearts

he didn't mean to. that's all he can think of as he watches his darling lay on the floor of his room, blood slowly pooling under them. he's shaking and hyperventilating- no he didn't mean to he didn't mean to hedidn'tmeantohedidn'tmeanto-

he feels like throwing up as he backs away. it was over so quickly- he just didn't mean to get so angry, but he did, and all it took was one swing of his staff against his darling's head and a sickening crack and now they're- they're-

he forces himself to search for a pulse, but his hands are shaking too hard. his darling can't die, this can't be real; he wouldn't ever hurt them badly...! but their body is slowly growing cold under his hands, and he's feeling sicker and sicker by the second

he wishes he could just die in their place- what did he do? when trey finds him sobbing over his darling's body, the third year assumes that riddle's darling collapsed and hit their head; riddle is too shaken to deny this. everyone in heartslabyul believed that his relationship was perfect, nobody would suspect he'd been the one to deliver the final blow: and it makes him sick

he stops eating, stops attending classes, and lets himself slowly waste away in his bed. it's bad enough that crowley considers sending him home, but trey quickly objects: the last thing riddle needs is his mother's treatment... everyone tries to help him cope, help him move on, but he just doesn't get better. he doesn't want to get better, not when the guilt is eating him alive.

he feels like his darling is watching him, even after their death. it's like a punch in the gut, thinking of all he did: he was a kidnapper and a manipulator and an abuser and he killed them, he killed his lover who he kept by his side by force- the thoughts make him even sicker. he's slowly wasting away, refusing food and water...

the only way to save him at this point would be a spell to make him forget his darling ever existed... and his friends are so desperate to at least save him- thinking that he's just a mourning lover who lost his beloved too quickly- that it's not too unreasonable to expect them to do so.

leona kingscholar

those close to him knew he didn't mind getting a bit... rough, with his beloved. whether it was the servants back at home, or ruggie who didn't want to get on leona's bad side, nobody interfered: after all, they always claimed they were fine and happy with leona! ... though most of the times leona was keeping a tight grip on theis shoulder as they spoke those words

it's nobody's shock when a mysterious deep scratch becomes seriously infected on them. both leona and his darling deny that he was the one who caused it- but... well, it's clear to those who knew of how violent leona could be when unhappy with his darling that he was the only possible culprit.

the fact leona has terrified his darling into complete submission and obedience now shows its deadly side, as it turns out they'd been hiding the highly infected scratch from him in fear of repercussions, and when medics have a look at it, his darling is at death's door. he barely has time to process what's happening, before his feverish darling just... passes away in their sleep, with no chance to even call a magic healer who could have helped

nobody has seek leona in worse shape before. he doesn't even attend the funeral, and he doesn't let anyone (not even ruggie) get near him- he appears like a feral beast, destroying anyone and anything that crosses his path. his mourning is destructive, and it doesn't take long for him to be called back home before he turns the whole savanaclaw dorm to sand

he's inconsolable, and he doesn't let anyone near. he knew very well that what he was doing to his darling- keeping them under his control by taking advantage of their fear, forcing them to play the part of the "happy lover" despite them being terrified of him- was wrong, but in the end, he loved them more than anything.

and in their own way, he knew they loved him: even when they had the chance, they never begged his brother or crowley for help... almost as if they believed he could change for the better. but he didn't, he essentially killed them.

he'll just isolate himself. go somewhere far away where he can misserably live the rest of his days alone. all he does is sleep and mourn, hunting to feel relief from his pain in the form of violence- but even then... he's just never coming back from this

azul ashengrotto

he just wanted to teach them a lesson. once again his darling had tried to escape him, to escape his love, even though they'd sworn to stay with him- even though they'd signed a contract promising to stay- so he'd punished them accordingly. after a painful, near-drowning dip in the freezing cold ocean, he'd just left them in the bathroom to cry and beg for mercy... but when he came back less than a day later, they were just... dead on the ground

hypothermia. his darling's blue fingers, their huddled up form as they tried to preserve heat in their last moments: he feels himself grow lightheaded and tears blur his vision as he picks up their cold, lifeless corpse. how...? it's too late when he notices the place where he left them: there's no towels, no hot water, and the temperature is cold. the fact his darling was just violently dragged around the freezing cold waters before- the fact they were already weak from being kept in captivity...

the twins arrive immediately when they hear azul's screams and wails coming from the bath. there's not even a chance to ask what happened: he's crying, sobbing as he apologises to his darling's cold, damp corpse. the eels quickly realize what's happening- and though upset, jade immediately volunteers to hide the corpse. they have to, or else they're all in serious trouble. floyd has to pretty much tear the corpse out of azul's grip.

azul feels like shit, he wishes he'd died in their place- but he doesn't want to be imprisoned. he didn't mean to- how could he ever want the person most important for him to die?! the general student body interprets his mourning and guilt as the reaction to his darling "mysteriously going mising"- each time someone tells him they hope that his beloved is found soon, he wishes he could just die on the spot

he doesn't have a will to take care of himself or the lounge anymore- all his duties fall onto Jade. watch what he eats? who cares- not him. he swings from eating whatever he wants to try and fill the void in his heart to going days on end without even leaving his bed- it's unhealthy and it's worrying, but... what can he do? he killed his darling, left them to die alone- he deserves nothing.

kalim al-asim

it's everything he feared, happening at once. just one time- one time- he takes his darling out to eat because they've been behaving so well and it's their anniversary- and they look so happy to be out of their chains and out of their room! and then- and then they take a bite of their food and it's nearly inmediate, they collapse and cough, and then it's over.

he should've known better. he HAD to know better. hadn't he been telling his darling the reason why they had to stay locked inside was for their safety? hadn't he promised he wouldn't allow them to be harmed? this- this had happened before with jamil, but jamil had lived. his darling died.

his guilt and pain are immeasurable. he cries during the funeral, loud enough that even his own family feels like they can't approach him. even jamil can't help but feel bad- even knowing all what kalim did to his darling. it's like the spark inside of him was extinguished, all his joy snuffed out

he commissions paintings and works of art of his late darling to an almost terrifying degree. he needs to keep them around, to keep something that makes him feel like they aren't gone, but everytime he gazes at the expensive oil paintings of his darling, he's crushed by pain and becomes as inconsolable as the day they died

there's no more parties. how could he possibly throw a party- no, how could he possibly dare search for happiness knowing what happened? he feels like he doesn't deserve comfort or joy. he turns down all of his friends and family's attempts to help. he feels like hurting and being misserable is the only way to make it up to his darling, even in death

he'll pretend to move on, for everyone's sake- it's painfully obvious he's faking his happiness, but... nobody knows what to do to help, so they just accept his poor acting. nobody brings up how he sleeps cuddled with golden chains (that only jamil knows were the ones used to keep his darling in their room), or how he keeps all his darling's belongings untouched like if they could return any day- in the same way nobody, not even jamil, acts like they notice the scars that appear on his skin, which was once unmarked.

vil schoenheit

he knew that using so much love potion had to have... some negative side effect. however, he saw it as a necessary side effect; his darling was just lost and needed a bit of help to love him! besides, he himself brewed the potion with the highest quality ingredients, and sure it was worrying that his darling was becoming resistant and needed larger and larger doses each time, but he never expected them to just... drop dead when he gave them their morning's dose of potion.

love potion overdose- now that was a way to die that didn't appear in any textbook. vil wouldn't be able to process the events: his darling just fainted, right? how silly! he'll just- he'll just tuck them into bed, they need beauty sleep, and he'll... and then he'll...

when he finally feels his darling's cold body, with no heartbeat as he places a hand on their chest, it feels like the world is falling around him. how was he supposed to know this could happen?! he tries as many healing and health potions as he can, but... in the end, he specializes in poisons, and his darling is already dead. it's merely a fool's errand

he cries. he crie and cries- how dare his darling die?! how dare they abandon him?! he wails until his eyes are red and puffy, until his makeup is ruined. he doesn't know what to do; he doesn't want anyone to see his darling like this. soon enough death will take its toll on their beauty- the thought makes him feel even worse.

just like how the dwarves in the ancient legend preserved the princes's body in a clear casket to admire her beauty even after death, vil will do exactly that. finding a spell to preserve his darling's body is exhausting, and he risks his own skin by losing sleep and stressing over it (he's running against the clock and he knows it. he has to hurry, before his darling's beauty fades), but he's successful

he keeps his darling- a corpse that won't decompose, their body cold but skin as soft as when they lived- in a glass casket in his room. everyday, he carefully does their makeup and dresses them up, still making them go through his skincare routine even after death. in all honesty, the routine is what manages to keep him from losing his mind; he doesn't see how misserable he is, desperately taking care of a corpse.

he has to work harder on his makeup now. no matter how much he tries, he can barely sleep: he tries so hard to push back the thoughts that plague his mind (the thoughts that tell him if he'd been a better lover his darling would be alive, that if he'd been better his darling would have loved him without the need of a potion, that he was the one harming them from the very start whenever he knowingly destroyed their self esteem so he could manipulate them with more ease)- everyone bites back comments in fear of invoking his anger, but... it's visible, how much he's suffering.

idia shroud

is this the gods' punnishment for his actions? does he just deserve nothing in life? he holds his darling's lifeless corpse in his hands and wails. he doesn't even know how they died- was it just too much? the isolation, the stress... he thought he was doing a good job at caring for them, but clearly he wasn't, was he?

he'll rebuild them- he'll bring them back. he doesn't care how unethical it is- he has to get his darling back. what were all his efforts up until now for? stalking, kidnapping his darling; was he truly about to throw away all that work? he wasn't- not at all

he tries his best to keep ortho in the darl about the truth. no, no- his darling is just... taking a nap. yes, a special nap, suspended in a mysterious blue fluid in a large tube in idia's room- just... a nap... of course the younger shroud doesn't believe this, but even the child can see the pain in idia's eyes and doesn't question further

it's because of ortho's concerns that idia doesn't spiral into absolute missery: otherwise, he doesn't even know if he'd have the will to keep living without his darling. the younger one cheers him on, telling him that he'll absolutely succeed! ... even if idia has low hopes on actually managing to artificially revive his darling, his brother's words keep him going

he takes to talking to his darling's corpse, suspended and preserved in the tube. he'll save them soon. he'll make it so they can walk around his room again- he even promises to let them go out if he just manages to finish the work- he just has to work harder. he needs to work more.

he has no clue how long it'll take him, or if he'll even succeed. but he has to keep going. there's only two things keeping him alive- ortho, and the need to hold his darling again. he needs them. he has to get them back.

malleus draconia

there's always a level of risk when applying a sleeping curse, of course. he knows this very well, but he trusts his magic. he knows he's good at what he does; so why has his darling's heart stopped beating...?

he'd grown so used to simply casting the spell when he went to class and undoing it when he returned, he almost missed the change and left for class. but he did notice- when he cast the spell, instead of falling into a peaceful sleep... his darling seemeed to jerk awake for a second, then close their eyes: and after that, he couldn't see the rise and fall of their chest. a nervous hand pressed against their chest, and found no heartbeat

he's lost and scared. suddenly, he doesn't feel like Malleus Draconia, ruler of the dark fae- suddenly he feels like he's a little baby again, crying because he's scared of thunder. all he can do is fall back in shock and call for lilia- please. please come help him. he made a mistake.

lilia can comprehend very well what happened. the sleeping spell failed- perhaps malleus' darling was too frail, their constitution worsened by the constant sleep and captivity. there's nothing the ancient fae can do: once death has taken a human, they're gone. all he can do is hug malleus, to try and comfort him like he used to when the dark fae was a child.

malleus knew that humans had short lifespans. lilia had warned him about this, about the pain human lovers would bring; that was one of the reasons why he'd brought his darling to his dorm and forbidden them from leaving, so he could do the most with the time they had. and yet- even for a human, this was too soon. far too soon. how could life be so cruel? how could he lose the one person who understood him and loved him? perhaps everyone was right to steer away from him. perhaps he did just bring misfortune wherever he went

lilia, silver, and sebek can only watch as malleus becomes lonelier than ever. the dark fae has rarely mourned before- and even though lilia is trying his best to guide the young lord through the process of grieving, malleus is just not taking it well at all. he killed his beloved- as much as his dormmates try to convince him it was a freak accident, that he had no hand in it, he knows better. perhaps what hurts him the most is his darling's peaceful face after they passed- they never held such an expression around him, not since he took them captive... were they so happy to have escaped him, even if it meant death?

#twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twst #riddle rosehearts #leona kingscholar #azul ashengrotto #kalim al asim #vil schoenheit #idia shroud #malleus draconia

[elyvorg]

Maki Harukawa: What She Wants Matters

As much as I love Maki and her character arc, I didn’t use to think there was any need for me to do a big analytical ramble about her like the one I did for Kaito. After all, Maki’s arc is very clear and in-the-open thanks to Kaito encouraging her to talk about things. Look at her opening up and making friends and learning to trust people and be trusted herself! It’s lovely to behold.

But I realised as I thought more about Maki that there is a part of her arc that’s a lot subtler and likely gets noticed and talked about a lot less, which is a shame when it’s possibly the most interesting aspect of her issues and development. I’m referring to how difficult it is for her to believe that her own feelings and desires are important in any way, and the series of events that pushes her into finally acknowledging this and beginning to embrace what she wants for herself.

So let’s talk about this. Because just like everything that goes on inside Maki’s head, it matters, and it deserves to be talked about.

Her feelings don’t matter

Throughout chapters 3 and 4, Maki gradually makes a lot of progress in opening up to Kaito and Shuichi about herself: the people she’s killed, the horribly gruelling training she’s been through, and eventually even her happy days back at the orphanage before her life became hell. But one aspect lags noticeably behind compared to her just talking about these things, and that’s her ability to acknowledge how she feels about any of this.

Maki repeatedly calls her stories about her horrible past “boring”. Really, they couldn’t be further from that – it’s heartbreaking learning how much suffering she’s been through – but she genuinely doesn’t expect Kaito and Shuichi to be having any kind of emotional response to hearing it all. She has so thoroughly convinced herself that her suffering doesn’t matter that it doesn’t occur to her for a second that anybody else might think it does – not even the people she’s just about beginning to accept are seeing her as a friend. There’s also the way she has a habit of calling Shuichi’s expression “gross”, specifically whenever he shows signs of caring about her feelings and seeing her as a person. She’s trying to write off his concern for her, because no, that’s not a thing he’s supposed to be doing. Her feelings don’t matter. Nobody else – not even someone who might be her friend – is supposed to care.

You’d think, when people found out her talent and became afraid of her, the most obvious way for Maki to defend herself would have been to explain that she never chose her profession and was basically forced into it against her will. Yet it never even crosses her mind to say that. It’s only more than a chapter later, in the chapter 4 training session where she talks about her past at length, that Maki finally fully admits for the first time that she never had a choice in becoming an assassin. But even then, she says it offhandedly, like that fact doesn’t ultimately matter or change anything.

There’s also a comment Maki makes in early chapter 5 about how killing for a living makes her no better than the evil sadist that they’re assuming Kokichi is. She genuinely doesn’t think the fact that she didn’t choose this and doesn’t enjoy murdering people counts for anything in terms of judging how good of a person she is in light of all her murders. That’s so heartbreaking? Of course that makes her a significantly less terrible person than a hypothetical sadist who kills just for fun!

There’s no way out

This whole problem is illustrated even more clearly in Maki’s final free time event. It might seem like a positive sign of progress that the event ends on Maki saying that maybe she’ll be able to quit being an assassin one day, but the way she approaches this possibility is so painfully telling about how messed-up she still is. And this FTE takes place as late in the story as chapter 5’s Daily Life, because Maki still isn’t going to get anywhere with this part of her issues until the fifth trial.

In the FTE, Shuichi offers to use his detective skills to investigate and maybe take down her assassin cult so she won’t have to kill people any more, and Maki instantly tells him that’s impossible. She explains that assassins are currently a necessary evil in this world and suggests instead that Shuichi should try to change the world enough such that nobody ever resorts to murder any more. Only then, Maki concedes, she might be able to stop being an assassin.

Which is a monumentally worse way to approach getting her out of her profession than what Shuichi was suggesting, and completely missing the point. Some assassins exist who actually willingly chose that job for whatever reason, and they should be the only people who “need” to do it. Even if assassins might be necessary, child slave assassins who never had a choice in the matter are very decidedly not. Taking down Maki’s one single child-slave-assassin-training cult is absolutely the simplest and most achievable way to help her.

But Maki doesn’t see it that way, because the fact that she personally never wanted this has never crossed her mind as relevant at all. If Shuichi asks her “but are you okay with this?”, Maki tells him that question is unreasonable and cannot answer it. It’s really a very simple question – the answer is no, obviously! – but Maki has trained herself to block out her own feelings about her situation and write them off as unimportant and irrelevant, so thoroughly that her mind just short-circuits and returns an error message when she’s asked about them.

The reason Maki’s like this, the reason that this is the hardest thing for her to change, is that this is the coping mechanism she’s had no choice but to develop. Trapped in her awful situation with absolutely no possible way out of it as far as she could see (she was ten years old), all of her thoughts and feelings about how badly she didn’t want this would have been just too painful for her to deal with. The only way she could cope was by locking those desires and feelings away and convincing herself that they don’t matter. She’s just had to resign herself to this. When there’s genuinely no escape, nobody could bear to keep fighting against it forever. It’s so much easier to just stop trying, and to forget that you ever wanted to try in the first place.

Maki has grown up telling herself that the impossible is just impossible, so she should accept it and get used to things the way they are. Trying to make it possible is futile and will only lead to more pain.

This is precisely one of the many reasons why Kaito is such a good influence for her and exactly the kind of person she needs to help her out of this!

She killed Kaito, and she definitely doesn’t care

…Or, at least, he might have been, perhaps – if she hadn’t gone and killed him.

After what I imagine was a huge emotional breakdown over the events in the hangar, Maki pulled herself together and suppressed that pain as hard as she could. She’s so well-practiced at doing so that the next morning – the morning after she killed her closest friend – she appears to be just about the same as ever. Even as they find Kaito’s body even more horrifically dead than she was expecting to see it, Maki firmly insists that his death doesn’t bother her.

It’s that same coping mechanism she always uses, for exactly the same reasons. This reality can’t be changed, and thinking about how she wanted things to be different only causes pointless unnecessary pain, so she doesn’t. She can’t. She just accepts things the way they are and convinces herself she’s fine with it.

Maki refuses to investigate with Shuichi not only because she doesn’t want him to figure out she’s the culprit, but also because Shuichi keeps infuriatingly talking as if Kaito might be alive – and as if she should want Kaito to be alive. She just can’t bear to be brought anywhere near those kinds of thoughts about what she might want when she knows that it’s already impossible.

Later in the trial, while fervently arguing that having broken into the hangar doesn’t mean she’s the one who killed Kaito, at no point does Maki ever try to defend herself on the basis that she would never want to kill him. Nobody has brought up the possibility that Kaito’s death could have been accidental at this point, so it would be a sensible argument to make. Granted, arguments about someone’s character and motives aren’t the most concrete ones to make in a class trial, but Maki has to know that it would be likely to give Shuichi pause, because there’s no way he’d want to think that Maki would do that either.

But no. Of course that’s an irrelevant argument to make. What Maki wants never matters, especially when it comes to her having killed someone. She’s just a murderer, and Shuichi should accept that she could just as easily have murdered anybody at all, even if it’s Kaito, no matter how she might hypothetically feel about it.

Even as Maki is confessing to the truth of what happened in the hangar and it becomes clear that her shooting Kaito with the poison arrow was an accident, she never actually directly mentions that she didn’t mean to kill him. She talks only very indirectly about the panic she felt while rushing to get the antidote, without properly expressing why she was so desperate. It’s only “I knew I had to do something about the poison,” and not, “I couldn’t let Kaito die.”

It just hurts too much for her to think of it that way when Kaito still died anyway because of her, and nothing will change that truth.

…Kaito’s alive!?

Until, out of nowhere, maybe something can.

If Shuichi still thinks it could be possible for Kaito to be alive, then maybe it actually is. The fact that Maki listens to him as soon as he expresses this is a subtle but huge testament to how much she believes in her friend’s detective skills. She only ignored Shuichi’s optimism earlier because she knew a lot more than he did about what happened in the hangar, and she didn’t see any possible way out for Kaito from where she was standing. But now that he knows that same information, Shuichi can still see a way out after all.

Maki puts her faith in his judgement and latches onto that tiny possibility that Kaito might be alive with everything she has. She refuses to let it go, despite Exisal Kokichi – aka Kaito himself – continuing to insist it’s totally impossible. I bet Kaito made a point of claiming it was impossible in a deliberate attempt to spur Maki to argue otherwise, and he must have been bursting with pride in her when she went and did exactly that. The impossible is possible! Maki Roll is finally believing that for herself! She’s finally trying to claw and fight her way into a better reality instead of just accepting the awful one she’s stuck in!

An equally important and absolutely lovely part of this is Maki finally expressing the fact that she didn’t want to kill Kaito, that she hates the thought that she did that. Based on her wording and her hesitant tone, it’s still difficult for her to admit it, but she’s finally doing so. It’s not quite so unbearably painful to think about when it might not be the truth after all. And it’s so wonderfully appropriate that this is the first moment we ever see Maki cry – she’s finally letting herself acknowledge and express her painful emotions and feel like they matter.

She also openly admits for the first time that she likes the nickname Maki Roll, not just begrudgingly accepting it, but actively asking Himiko to call her that! She’s desperate for anything that’ll remind her of Kaito and help her hold onto what she felt like back when he was alive, so that she can keep believing that maybe he still is. Maki is finally beginning to embrace how much she cares about Kaito and treat that fact like it’s important and deserves to be acknowledged, and it’s adorable.

Half a lifetime’s worth of forcing herself to just accept her lot as an assassin and ignore how desperately she wants to be a normal kid was always going to be nigh-impossible to break through on its own. But caring about Kaito and not wanting to lose him are new feelings that Maki hasn’t spent half her life suppressing. She only had a single night to shut away her pain over Kaito’s death and accept that he’s definitely gone – it’s far easier for that to be undone. The moment a tiny glimmer of a possibility opens up again thanks to her belief in Shuichi, Maki couldn’t ignore it if she tried.

Maki’s arguments for Kaito’s survival aren’t even all that logical. Her statements in the Nonstop Debate about the video are too caught up in what if it wasn’t Kaito? to make any meaningful suggestions like everyone else is; she insists the weird video angle “proves” a trick was used when really it only opens up the possibility; she’s the first one to hastily summarise everyone’s discussion about the video trick and just get to the point that this means Kaito’s still alive, right? Maki’s usually one of the best at taking the rational approach in trials and focusing on all the logistical details, but right now she doesn’t even care about any of that stuff, not when Kaito being alive is what she wants to be true, more than anything else in the world.

It would hurt so much for this to all be for nothing and for Kaito to turn out to be dead after all. Holding onto this hope is such a huge risk, and it’s terrifying – but it’s worth it. Even the tiniest chance of Kaito being alive is infinitely better than the alternative, no matter how terrifying it is. Whether she likes it or not, or even realises it at all, this experience is teaching Maki that fighting for that tiny possibility of something better, no matter how much it hurts, is always worth the pain.

Maki’s desperate defence of Kaito leading into her Argument Armament, though she doesn’t admit it and keeps trying to insist her argument is logical, is also her acting on her emotions. Her only real reason for it is simply that she doesn’t want to believe Kaito could have killed anyone.

And the only way for her to run away from that is to insist that she really did kill Kaito after all – which incidentally forces her to express a narrative of “this happened even though I didn’t want it to,” and not brush that latter part off like it’s irrelevant. This time it’s just a lie, but this is nonetheless a very important kind of narrative that Maki needs to learn to understand and accept. Sometimes things happen that she wishes never had, but that doesn’t mean that the fact she didn’t want it never mattered!

Losing Kaito after all

Maki is forced to learn this even more harshly at the end of the trial. Kaito’s alive, she didn’t kill him, he’s right here – but he’s dying anyway and there’s not a thing she or anybody else can do about it.

The Maki from before all this happened would have just given up, accepted it, and immediately begun insisting to herself that she doesn’t care in order to cope. Kaito is clearly a dead man walking on two separate levels – his illness and the execution – and changing his fate at this point really is completely and truly impossible. Maki is a smart and pragmatic person; she knows this perfectly well.

But the Maki who’s here now refuses to let that stop her from trying. She’s furiously determined to fight the Exisals to protect Kaito, despite knowing that even her assassin skills aren’t enough for that, despite knowing that Kaito is sick and dying anyway no matter what she does. She doesn’t want this, so she’s going to claw and scream and fight against it with everything she has, no matter how futile her efforts will be in the end. I love her line, “I don’t want this to end… I just… don’t…” – the only reason why she’s doing this is that she doesn’t want Kaito to die, and that’s the only reason she should ever need.

Amongst all this, Maki desperately admits to her romantic feelings for Kaito, because even if this can’t do anything to change his fate, her feeling this way about him still matters and she’s still feeling it and it deserves to be said. She’s not even really saying it for Kaito’s benefit like she expects a response from him about it; she’s just saying it for her own sake, because she wants to make it real.

Usually I’m the first person to roll my eyes and lose interest when romance rears its head. Yet I can actually appreciate the fact that Maki’s feelings for Kaito have a romantic aspect to them, because it makes this moment work for Maki’s arc in ways that it wouldn’t if her feelings were purely platonic.

Kaito was obviously always trying to get Maki to consider him a friend, so her having done that is still essentially her just doing what someone else wanted of her, like always, albeit at least someone who has her best interests at heart for once. But Kaito never asked or expected Maki to fall in love with him. Maki’s romantic feelings came from nowhere but herself. And while that in itself can’t quite be called her “choice” because that’s not how romantic attraction works, Maki accepting and embracing those feelings to make them a part of her and let them drive her actions is entirely her own choice. It’s a choice nobody else, not even Kaito, encouraged her to make. That’s such a huge, huge deal coming from her.

Maki caring about Kaito as a friend is something that was already pretty apparent from her actions and never really needed to be said. But her caring about him romantically was something that nobody would have known (Tsumugi’s incidentally-right-for-all-the-wrong-reasons amatonormative bullshit aside) if Maki hadn’t decided that it mattered enough to want to express it.

Maybe she manages to admit to all this now because she hated having to suppress all her feelings about Kaito like they didn’t even matter the last time he “died” on her, helping her realise just how important these feelings are to her and that she can��t bear to just ignore that any more. Kaito has been so, so good for her; of course she wouldn’t want to lose that, nor brush it off like it’s nothing.

Seeing him about to die for real this time with no way out, Maki’s probably also driven by some desperate irrational sense that if she just explodes with all of the exact reasons why she doesn’t want this to happen, maybe it somehow just… won’t? This is the very opposite of the lock-it-all-away coping mechanism she’s been employing for a lifetime, and even as it’s heartwrenching, it’s also so lovely to see her doing this.

Maki partly tries to cover up these emotions of hers at first with her fierce assassin mask. She’s still instinctively using her usual defences to try and block out some of the pain, but it’s not enough to stop her expressing things, nor to stop her from crying as she does so. As Kaito responds to it all by showing his usual painfully selfless pride in how far she’s come and can keep going from here, making it all about her and not himself, Maki finally seems to fully accept that there really is nothing she can do to save him, and she drops the assassin mask and just breaks down completely.

Kaito is inescapably about to die, even though she doesn’t want this, and both of those facts are allowed to co-exist. She lets it hurt; she lets herself cry over his death, because no matter how painful it is, it’s worth it. It’s so much better than pretending she never cared about Kaito and all the things he did for her. Maki tried doing that once, and she’s never going there again.

In their Kaito memorial training session after the trial, it’s such a big deal that Maki is the one to nudge Shuichi into talking about how he’s feeling and how much it hurts. She’s finally realising and learning for herself that opening up about her painful feelings can help, and by sharing that with Shuichi, she’s helping him deal with his grief, too. She resolves to honour Kaito’s memory by showing how grateful she is for everything he did for her, not even because that’s what Kaito would have wanted her to do, but just because she wants to for herself.

It’s all “fake”

But losing Kaito isn’t quite the end of Maki’s arc regarding all this. There’s still a little further for her to be pushed in trial 6.

When Shuichi reveals in the trial that Kokichi wasn’t actually a Remnant of Despair, Maki is subtly the most shocked out of anybody to hear this. She never explains why, but knowing what we know about her issues with never having her own desires and always being used as a puppet by somebody else, it’s clear that that’s what this is about.

Maki thought that her decision to kill Kokichi was her own. She even still basically kept thinking of it that way even after learning he wasn’t the mastermind, and even after realising that the Flashback Light was a motive designed to make her target Kokichi. After all, she’d have chosen on her own to kill a Remnant of Despair anyway; the Flashback Light just happened to let her know Kokichi was one, right? But upon realising that none of that was true, that there was no genuine, non-fabricated reason for her to kill Kokichi at all, it shakes Maki to her core.

It wasn’t really her decision, on any level. She was finally beginning to feel, after Kaito’s trial, that her desires were her own and they meant something – but here’s a sudden revelation proving that this action of hers that she thought was entirely of her own volition was never that at all. It was nothing but her being manipulated and used as a puppet to kill by someone with far more power than her, just like she always has been.

(Maki also overlooks the implications of Kokichi’s motive video during the investigation, even though she’s in the room when Shuichi watches it, meaning she should have seen it and been able to figure out what it meant by herself. The sad truth is that because of her background of suppressing her own desires and ideas, Maki is very susceptible to manipulation. She was quite happy to believe that Kokichi was a Remnant of Despair, because it justified her decision to kill him and made the whole situation easier to deal with. There was no way she was going to question that assumption on her own.)

Similarly, when Tsumugi boasts that the Flashback Lights were being used to control everyone’s emotions and motivations, Maki again sounds more distressed by this idea than anybody else. She thought her determination to “defeat despair” was her own desire, but really, none of it was. In this instance, that’s basically true, but hearing as such is especially painful for Maki. It hits her right in her issues and the progress she was beginning to make about feeling like her own person, making her wonder if she really even is at all.

This gets even more painful for her a little later, as Tsumugi goes right for where it hurts and insists that Maki’s romantic feelings for Kaito were just artificially implanted by a Flashback Light, never truly “real”. Tsumugi probably did this because she thinks that ~romance~ is so much more important than friendship and obviously Maki must be soooo sad to lose that – but that’s not the reason why Maki’s distressed by it at all. It’s because, as I went over before, Maki’s romantic feelings for Kaito were supposed to be hers and something nobody else wanted of her and that she chose to embrace and make a part of her, all by herself. Hearing that actually they just came from some evil asshole manipulating her and using her as a puppet yet again – it tears right into all of the progress that these feelings themselves had been helping her begin to make. Maki’s emotions and desires matter after all? No, they don’t. They were never even hers in the first place. They were never even real.

Someone more self-assured than Maki (such as Kaito) would have been able to stand up for their own feelings here and call Tsumugi’s claim out as the bullshit it obviously is. Even if her feelings were implanted, they would still matter just as much because she’d still be feeling them now – but also, there’s a mountain of evidence for the fact that Maki’s romantic feelings for Kaito were in fact completely real and organically arose throughout her interactions with him. She made it very clear as she confessed to them at the end of trial 5 that this is all about the kind of person Kaito is and the things he’s done for her. That’s where her romantic feelings arose from, and all of that was entirely real and happened after everyone was created from fake memories. Maki is the only one who was inside her own head when she began to feel that way about Kaito, so she of all people should know better than anyone else just how very not-fake her feelings are!

But she can’t realise that on her own. Despite the progress she’d been making thanks to Kaito’s trial, Maki had still spent a lifetime (a fake lifetime, but those fake memories clearly still wired her brain to think this way) suppressing her emotions as thoroughly irrelevant and feeling like she was nothing but a puppet for other people’s whims. She began the killing game with absolutely no self-assurance in who she is or how she feels; of course it would be heartbreakingly easy for her to lose faith in herself and revert back to thinking that way again when given the slightest reason to.

So Maki just buys Tsumugi’s claim completely, without even questioning it. Her feelings for Kaito were fake, as was her desire to defeat the mastermind, as was everything else about who she is. Nothing about her matters, and it never did. She doesn’t even get to be a person at all.

Believing in herself at last

We don’t see Maki reacting much as Shuichi begins his impassioned argument that the pain and emotions and desires everyone felt in this killing game were still thoroughly real. But it must have helped her begin to overcome this. If you feel something, that feeling is real and important, and that’s all that matters. She believes in Shuichi’s judgement; she must have been listening to him.

Perhaps even more helpful for her is how, as Shuichi encourages Maki to stand with him on this, he urges her to believe in herself. It might sound generic at first glance, but really, that’s exactly what Maki’s arc and her struggle with these issues always needed to come down to in the end: her believing that she has worth as a person. Not only in terms of not hating herself and accepting that she deserves to have friends, but in terms of embracing the fact that her feelings are real and important and hers, and they always have been.

It’s so hard for Maki to do this. It goes against everything that’s been ingrained into her throughout her whole life (a “fake” life, but what does that matter when it’s having a real effect on her?), and everything that Tsumugi’s been spouting for half the trial. But she can do it now. Thanks to everything Kaito’s done for her, and the things she felt as she lost him twice, and Shuichi’s continued support, Maki finally makes a conscious effort to believe in everything she’s feeling. She chooses for herself to make her existence as Maki Harukawa matter.

It’s such a wonderful culmination to her character arc, right at the end of chapter 6. She’s finally reached a point where she can fully accept and embrace that she wants to believe in herself like this. Kaito would be so, so proud of her – like he once said, “The only thing that matters is what you want to believe!”, and now Maki Roll is embodying that perfectly! But as much as Kaito would have loved to see this, the best part is that she’s not even doing this to make him proud. She needed her friends’ help and kindness to be able to reach this point, but now she’s not doing this for anyone else’s sake. Maki’s doing it purely for herself.

#danganronpa v3 #danganronpa v3 spoilers #maki harukawa #character analysis #ramble #friends #happy birthday maki roll! #have a lengthy ramble about your issues that you *should* want everyone else to know about because they *matter*

[binniedeactivated]

saint. || soobin (3.7)🌪

pairing: soobin x reader genre: au word count; 2k

“we know it can be hard admitting these things, okay? we want you to be truthful with us. there is evidence that you’ve been taken advantage of at this hotel do you remember?”.

mia gulps as the officer show her the camera footage. she saw three guys go into the hotel first. she then saw another guy and girl enter shortly after. she shook her head slowly, 

“I-I don’t know”. 

“you don’t know those three guys?”.

“I do know them. t-those are the guys that broke into my home”. 

“and what did they do?”.

mia slowly pulled her sleeves over her wrists.”t-they um--”. 

“did they take advantage of you?”. 

“yes”. she answers painfully, not wanting to remember. 

“how did this night began?”.

“I was home a-alone and my parents were at my little brother’s soccer award ceremony. I was in my room and I heard this b-big noise downstairs and---”. 

“mia? this is what happened prior to the hotel innocent?”. 

“t-this is the home invasion”. she stuttered, wanting to slap herself at how shaky she was but she couldn’t help it. the officer sighs. 

“mia. we are trying to get information for the hotel incident. these boys have already been charged for the home invasion”. 

“mia what happened that night? did you go on a date with choi soobin?”. 

“choi soobin?”. she questions honestly, the officer points to the footage. 

“yes, the man that brought you to the hotel”.

they spread out some pictures on the table of soobin, most of which they printed from his social media account. the officer points to his face. 

“do you recognize him?”. 

mia stared at the pictures thinking long and hard. for the life of her she couldn’t grasp who he was. she knew she’d seen him before, but she didn’t get his significance with this case. it was hard for her to remember anything prior to the home invasion due to the high dose of medication she was required to take for her trauma. 

“no I don’t”. 

“so you know these guys but you don’t know soobin?”. 

mia shakes her head, “no”. 

“so can you confirm that those are the guys who invaded your home?”. 

“yes”. mia answered again. 

both of the officers glared at each other before they safely sent mia home. 

╲╱❀╲╱╲╱❀╲╱╲╱❀╲╱

you had no words. no thoughts what so ever. you had to believe taehyun. it would make absolutely no sense for him to lie. and the fact that yeonjun had even said it also, it made you feel stupid and humiliated.

your heart was broken and a million pieces and you couldn’t keep yourself from crying. especially while you were at your locker. taehyun tried to comfort you but he could only do but so much. the person you loved, fell in love with, almost had sex with even-- was a horrible person. and you couldn’t believe even someone like soobin would do something as inhumane as that.

“princess? you okay?”. soobin asked from behind you, you assumed her heard you sniffling. 

“I don’t want to talk to you soobin”. you mutter under your breath. 

“what’s wrong?”. he asks again, honestly concerned. 

“I don’t want to talk to you”. you repeat, feeling the anger build up inside of you. 

“can you please tell me?”. 

you turn around, not being able to take it anymore. “can you please tell me soobin!? huh? can you tell me the truth this time?!”. soobin’s eyes widened at how loud you were, sparking a scene throughout the whole hallway. but you didn’t care.

“can you calm down? what is--”. 

before he could finish his sentence you raise your hand to slap him across his face as hard as you could. it was loud and it sound painful but you didn’t care about that either. he deserved it. 

gasps spread through the crowd around you both, even taehyun and yeonjun.

“you’re a liar soobin!!”. 

he holds his cheek, stinging with pain. he never saw you this angry before. 

“what did I lie about?”. he croaked wanting to cry.

“did you set her up or not?!”. 

soobin swallows, not even being able to fix his mouth tell you the truth. you saw the guilt on his face and it made you even more furious. you slapped him again, way harder than before. taehyun grabs your wrists softly, “I think you should calm down a little before you really hurt him”. he mumbles. 

“no! i don’t care these slaps don’t compare to how much he just hurt me!”. 

soobin breathed with a tear sliding down his cheek. he didn’t know what to do or even say. 

“I cared about you soobin! when the whole school hated your guts! when all these girls just wanted to have sex with you and use you for money and clout, I didn’t!! and for you to sit here and lie to my face about something this serious even after I asked you what really happened?!!”. 

“i didn’t k-know how I was going to tell you”.  he croaked through his tears. 

“I thought you cared about me!”.

“I do”.

“no you don’t because if you did you wouldn’t hide something like this from me!” +

“do you know how stupid you made me look!! I’m fighting for you consistently trying to tell you to get your act together and when I finally think you got it together this comes up and you lie about it!? how can you even do something like that to her?!”.

“I’m not that kind of person anymore please i’ve chan--”. 

“I don’t want to hear it! you don’t ever have to worry about me again. I’m breaking up with you!”.

god, that was soobin’s worst fear. “what? no please no”. he begs while grabbing your wrists while you storm out of the building. “don’t touch me!”. you scream, finally letting your tears fall. you stared into his wet eyes and realized they were just as hurt as yours, maybe even worse. but you didn’t care. you swallow the lump in your throat breathing heavily.

“soobin i hate you”.

and on that note you didn’t stop crying. even when you went home you locked yourself in your room for hours crying into your pillow about what you hoped wasn’t real. but you could tell by the look on soobin’s face that it was true. you couldn’t believe he’d do it. you wished he was a better person than that. your parents consistently knocked on your door and you assured them you were fine, and that you were just packing for the ski trip you were going to be leaving for tomorrow. 

you received another knock at your door though. “I’m fine mom i swear. I’m just packing”. you assured for the last time. “baby you have a visitor”. she informed. you were sick to your stomach just thinking about soobin. 

“if it’s soobin please send him out of this house”. 

“can you come to the door please?”. your mother begged. you hurried and wiped your face but your face ached after crying for so long and your eyes were puffy as can be. you sighed before unlocking your door and swinging it open. 

it was taehyun. 

“he said he wanted to check on your after your episode today. if you aren’t going to tell me what happened can you at least talk to one of your friends?”. she asked kindly before walking away. you sniffled. 

“how did you know where I lived?”.

“you dropped some stuff out of your bag when you ran off”. he handed you a couple of transcripts you dropped out of you bag. 

“thank you taehyun”.

“you’re welcome. are you doing okay? i’m so sorry you’re going through this I’m such a bad friend for telling you that maybe i should’ve just mind my business like you said”. you shake your head no, pursing your lips.

“no you aren’t a bad friend. i’m a bad friend. i thought you were lying to me and just trying to butt into my relationship. I’m sorry i didn’t listen to you sooner”.

“it’s alright”. 

you nodded, not wanting things to get awkward. “do you want to come in?”. 

“i don’t want to make you uncomfortable. you can finish letting out your emotions if you really need time”. 

“taehyun just get in here”. you sniffled, “my mom said I need to talk to someone anyway”. you kind of laugh, it was heart warming to have a someone check on you like this. 

“wow. you have a nice room”. he complimented toying with the knick knacks on your shelf. you laid across your bed. “thanks I guess. it’s pretty average to me but I guess it’s because I’m in here everyday”. 

“nah I like the pink. did you start packing yet?”.

you glared at him with your pink puffy eyes. “does it look like I want to pack right now?”. he purses his lips. “I’m sorry. you should though since we leave tomorrow”. 

“I can’t do anything right now taehyun. I just want to crawl into a hole and die”. 

taehyun chuckles at you being dramatic. “you shouldn’t say stuff like that”. he looks around, grabbing the small suitcase he saw in the corner and started to unzip it. 

“what are you doing?”. 

“since you’re not feeling to hot right now I’ll pack your bag for you. just tell me what to put in it”. 

you sigh, “taehyun you don’t have to do that”.  

“just shut up and tell me. do you need these?”. he suspends a blue box of tampons in the air for you to see. you chuckle. 

“I sure hope not”. 

“what are these anyways?”. you wait for him to slide one out the box and rip off the wrapper. 

“it’s a tampon”. he throws it in horror. “ew!”.

“seriously taehyun why are you even doing this? you still need to pack your own bag don’t you?”.

“my bag is packed already. plus this is just what real friends do”. he says, sliding a small pile of panties into your bag to keep from touching them. 

╲╱❀╲╱╲╱❀╲╱╲╱❀╲╱

“so? what do we do? mia says it wasn’t soobin”. one officer analyzes. 

“the other three says it was”.

“but we also remember it was the other three who tried to lie on soobin for the last crime they committed. how do we know they aren’t doing that now?”. the other officer analyzes. the female officers sighs. 

“no matter what anyone else says, if the victim says that this wasn’t choi soobin, we cannot press charges”. 

“so what else are going to do?”. 

“we’re going to have to drop the case”.

#txt #txt au #choi soobin #soobin smut #choi soobin angst #choi yeonjun #choi beomgyu #kang taehyun

[argylemnwrites]

Fight or Flight - Chapter 1: Flee

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu)

Book: The Royal Heir (Book 3, Chapter 1... just kidding. I wish, though)

Word Count: ~3300

Rating: R (language only)

Summary: Riley knows what needs to be done.

Author’s Note: So, maybe TRH3 will interest me if we get something like this... but we won’t. This is an AU (not officially yet, but undoubtedly this won’t be the path PB takes) that picks up immediately after the end of TRH2. I don’t know if I’ll play around any more in this universe or not, but I had a lot of fun exploring how Riley Liu would actually react to everything that unfolded. This wasn’t exactly what I envisioned when I started writing this piece, and it probably won’t be everyone’s cup of tea, but I like how this turned out, and I hope some of you can enjoy it. Thanks to @shz256 for asking me to tackle this topic! I don’t know if this will be how you envisioned it or not, but it’s where these characters led me.

Riley felt as if things were happening in slow motion, but as if time was somehow passing by faster than normal, too. She could barely catch her breath, trying to follow the discussion about ancient, unused statutes that would somehow take her daughter from her. She needed to listen, to understand, to pay attention, but it was hard not to be overwhelmed by panic. They were trying to take her baby.

It felt like a horror movie, so surreal and shocking, listening as Landon and Kiara, two people she trusted, pronounced her an unfit mother. Kiara, who was always direct with her, who had never been dismissive or involved in a scheme against her. Until now, apparently. And Landon, who she admired, who she knew Drake looked to as a model on how to be a member of the nobility with some common sense. Well, fuck ‘em.

Fuck all of it. Fuck this country and it’s stupid backwater practices. Fuck social seasons and childhood betrothals and and apple themed everything. Fuck her child being heir to the throne. Fuck Liam for asking. Fuck Drake for convincing her to agree. Fuck being a duchess. Just… fuck. She never wanted her life to look like this, her daughter a political figure before she took her first steps, expected to bear the burden of the crown. She knew what she had to do. She would die before they took her daughter from her.

There was exactly one person who she could trust who was also in a position to help her. As she wrapped her arms around Bridget, holding her close, her eyes darted around the room frantically. Olivia was already on her feet, coming to stand next to Liam, who was now apparently debating the finer points of this fucking law. Widening her eyes and staring her down, Riley was able to get her attention. Olivia tilted her head down slightly in acknowledgement, sliding back a half step and turning her head partially to the side so that Riley could whisper in her ear without drawing too much attention.

“I need you to slow them down,” was all she breathed out before pivoting on her heel. The door was only a few feet away. With the element of surprise and Olivia defending her, she could get out of here. Make a run for it. The main gate was out with all the press and citizens there, but if she could find the back driveway that Drake had told her-”

A hand on her shoulder tugged her back around before she’d even fully taken a step, sharp red nails digging painfully into her skin.

“What the fuck are you doing?” hissed Olivia, taking advantage of the fact that Liam and Barthelemy had both stepped closer to each other, raising their voices ever so slightly, though nowhere near loud enough to be considered yelling, to serve as a small distraction. Even still, she and Olivia didn’t go completely unnoticed. Both Drake and Hana were watching the two of them closely, Drake clearly torn between stepping over to join her and staying where he was and not drawing any more attention to her conversation. Maxwell just seemed lost and in shock, standing off to the side, staring at his fingers. And Kiara had glanced their way briefly, but quickly flicked her eyes back to the brewing confrontation between Liam and Barthelemy. Everyone else seemed to be ignoring them.

“I’m getting the fuck out of here before they take my baby,” Riley ground out, her voice breaking slightly at the end, sliding her hand over the back of her daughter’s head as she started squirming. It was hard to soothe her when she felt like she might throw up if she had to stay here a second longer.

“Calm down. We need a better plan than-”

“I don’t fucking have time, Olivia. I have to go. Now.”

Olivia sighed, then pulled a small blade from a hidden pocket near her waist and slid it into Riley’s hand, “My driver is out front. Ray. Show him I gave you this, and he will take you to the Lythikos keep.”

“No, I need to get out of Cordon-”

“Riley, take Bridget there. You will be safe. Lythikos will not tolerate a Beaumont-led invasion. The citizens will take up arms before that happens.”

“I can’t risk that. I need-”

“You need more of a plan than just running on foot. You know I’m right, so go tell Hana that you are going to go change Bridget’s diaper. Then calmly walk out of here and straight to my town car.”

Riley knew further discussion would be pointless, and she was just wasting time. Fighting every urge in her body that told her to just bolt, she took those few painful steps closer to the assholes who were trying to take her child so she could tell Hana they were stepping out for a diaper change. Hana squinted slightly, clearly not sure why she was being told this info over Drake, but nodded. Riley could feel Drake staring at her, practically boring a hole into the back of her head with his gaze, but she couldn’t worry about him right now. Her daughter had to be her priority.

She strode calmly to the back of the room. Olivia passed her the diaper bag and gave her a nod as she heard Barthelemy cry out, “Duchess Riley, where are you going?” but Riley just kept walking. She couldn’t risk looking back. She caught Hana’s calming voice start to explain, and all she could do was hope that would be enough and that everyone would buy it. 

She kept her arms wrapped around Bridget as tight as she could, striding down the hall and through the entryway. She wanted to bolt, run straight through those doors, but she didn’t know if she could trust anyone at the palace right now. She had no idea if they had heard gossip and knew what was coming or if they were about to feel as blindsided as her. 

“Babababa!” Bridget babbled excitedly at a pair of guards that were stationed near the front doors, squirming wildly in Riley’s arms.

“Shh, Peanut. You gotta stay with Mama right now,” Riley murmured into her hair as she adjusted her grip on her daughter. She nodded at the guards as she passed through the palace doors, hoping they just assumed she was stepping out because her child was being disruptive. She was sure she looked anxious, though, and the only reason she wasn’t visibly trembling was because of how tightly she was holding Bridget.

She heard a few cheers from what was left of the crowds that had gathered outside the gates to see the arrival of all of Cordonia’s nobility for the start of the Social Season, but she couldn’t worry about them at that moment. She squinted in the sunlight, scanning the drive for Ray, finally spotting him pacing next to a town car maybe a couple hundred feet away, tucked around a bend in the drive that limited its visibility from the front gates. She realized he was smoking while he read something on his phone as she got closer, propelled forward by pure adrenaline. He didn’t glance up at her until she was only a dozen or so feet away, likely not expecting anyone to be approaching him for a while. When he realized she was walking toward him, he quickly shoved his phone in his pocket and stood up straight.

“Your Grace, can I help you?” Ray asked as she closed the rest of the distance between them, dropping his cigarette to the gravel and snuffing it out with the heel of his shoe. Bridget tucked her head into Riley’s shoulder and clutched at her collar. She didn’t like being around strangers, probably a side effect of all the galas and balls and shindigs she’d already been forced to attend. It made Riley feel guilty that she had let things get this far before she took any action, having already subjected her daughter to so much she didn’t deserve.

Riley unclentched her fist just slightly, trying to show Ray what Olivia gave her, but her hands were shaking more and more as the reality of her plan set in, plus she was reluctant to loosen her grip on Bridget even slightly. “Olivia told me that you would drive me where I need to go if I showed you this,” she said, her voice quivering slightly as she finally flashed him the razor thin knife Olivia had given her. Ray jerked his head up when he saw it, staring at Riley for a few tense seconds before scanning the palace behind her. Riley chanced looking back. No one had followed her out here… yet.

“Of course, ma’am. Where are we heading today?”

Riley took a deep breath. She knew what she needed to do. “Ray, do you know the closest border?”

He didn’t react to her question with any shock or surprise, just glanced up as if he were recalling a map in his mind. “The closest from the capital would be the Auvernese border, but I am guessing that does not suit your needs.”

“No, not exactly.”

“Well, The Greek border is probably the next closest.”

“Perfect. That’s where we’re going.”

Ray nodded and moved to open the door for her, but stopped suddenly. “Are you and Her Royal Highness the only passengers today?” he asked, eyes locked over her shoulder in the direction of the palace doors.

Riley nodded, letting her eyes flutter shut and taking a deep breath as she gripped Bridget tighter with her left arm, sliding Olivia’s knife into her grasp better. She was ready to do what she needed to do.

“So the Duke of Valtoria won’t be making this trip with you?” At Ray’s second question, Riley’s eyes flew open and she spun around in shock. There was Drake, essentially power walking across the drive, head jerking back behind him repeatedly.

“I… I don’t know.”

“Well, I will be in the driver’s seat, ma’am. Whoever gets in the car with you I can take, unless you tell me ‘hit it, Ray,’ alright? If you tell me that, I’ll remove anyone who isn’t you and the princess. Does that suit?”

Riley just nodded weakly. This morning, she could have never pictured a time where she would possibly be making plans without Drake. Plans in opposition to Drake potentially. But she wasn’t sure how he was going to feel about this. About abandoning Liam and their friends and their country in a time of crisis. But she needed to protect her daughter, whether her husband was on board with that plan or not.

“What are you doing out here? They’re going to get suspicious.” she asked as soon as he was close enough that she could keep her voice low. Bridget squirmed in her arms, reaching for Drake and calling excitedly for “Dada,” but Riley kept a tight hold on her. She couldn’t let go of her daughter for anyone at the moment.

Drake opened his left hand, revealing a tube of diaper cream. “Olivia nicked it from the bag and dropped it on the floor so I would have an excuse to go after you. We gotta get going, though.”

“We?”

“Olivia just told me we’d be under her protection at the Lythikos keep and that we’d discuss details later, so on the drive, if you could fill me in on anything else you know, that would be great, Walker.”

Drake moved to open the car door, but Riley shook her head, a few of the tears she’d been fighting starting to trickle down her cheeks as she clutched Drake’s arm, halting him.

“Drake…” 

He took one look at her and grasped both her shoulders tightly, dropping a light kiss to her temple, “It’s gonna be okay, Riley. I’m not going to let anything happen to you or Bridget. But we gotta get out of here. The sooner we enter her duchy, the better.”

“Drake, I’m not taking Bridget to Lythikos,” she croaked out, opening her eyes and taking in his expressions as he tried to understand what she was saying.

“Olivia said-”

“I know. Olivia doesn’t know.”

Drake swallowed roughly before he spoke again, “So where-”

“Greece is apparently the best option from here.”

Another rough swallow, “Did you have any plans to tell me you were running away and taking our daughter to a foreign country?” His voice had a harsh edge to it, but he wasn’t livid yet. But Riley knew it wouldn’t take much to push him over the edge. Not today.

“Drake, I just… I can’t stay and… I would have gotten word to you. I just can’t risk them getting their hands on her. I have to keep her safe.” Riley knew she was rambling, but she just wanted him to understand. It wasn’t about him, it was about doing everything she could to keep her daughter. Hell, there were all those stories about women who lifted cars by themselves to save their babies. Going to hide out in a different country was nothing compared to that.

“Riley, listen to me. This is insane,” Drake kept holding onto her shoulders tightly, but his voice was more desperate, pleading, needy than it had been mere seconds earlier. “We don’t have any luggage or our passports or any of Bridget’s things. If we flee, this gets ten times worse. Come with me to Lythikos. We’ll fight this from there. All of us.”

“What do you mean, all of us?”

“Liam, Hana, Maxwell, Olivia - everyone. Barthelemy right now is in there trying to strip Liam of his title, and I’m no legal scholar, so I have no idea if he has any leg to stand on here. But together we can fight this coup. We will fight this coup.”

Riley just shook her head, tears falling more and more rapidly now. She’d known he would see this as a national matter. But she just couldn’t. Not anymore. “I’m done, Drake.”

“Done?” he pulled back, jerking his hands off her shoulders as if they had scalded him.

“Done being a duchess. Done letting my kid be used as a pawn in fucking political games. Done trusting Liam to sort this out, just waiting for the next shoe to drop. Because the next shoe always drops, Drake. Blackmail and assassins and foreign invasions have been constant, and I’ve haven’t even been here three years! I’m done with Cordonia. I’ve given them enough. I’m not giving them my daughter.”

“Ri-” Drake started, but the words kept flowing out of Riley, all the anger and hurt and fears and struggles just bubbling out, no longer shoved away and ignored.

“This was never supposed to be us! We were never supposed to be raising the heir to the throne! I’m not cut out for this, but I tried. I tried when Liam asked for our kid. I tried when my entire pregnancy was a media circus. I tried when my daughter’s future looked like it was going to be tied up in a foreign marriage alliance. But I am done trying, Drake. Because now they are trying to take my child from me, and I refuse to risk becoming my mother.”

She let out a ragged breath, trying to calm herself. She didn’t have time to get into all this, not now. She needed to be on the road, putting as much distance between her daughter and those asshats and douche nozzles as possible. “I am doing what I need to do to keep my daughter by my side. And if you need to stay and fight this coup, I get it. But Bridget is not going to stay in this country a second longer than she has to, and there is nothing you can say to change my mind.”

Drake just stared at her and Bridget for a few agonizing seconds before nodding at her. “Okay. Yeah… okay.”

Riley tensed slightly at that response, not sure how to interpret his words, but after a moment, Drake continued, “So, we better get going,” tilting his chin towards the town car behind her. “He onboard with the change of plan?”

A little sob escaped Riley as relief washed over her and she sagged forward against Drake’s chest, comforted by the strong, solid arms that immediately wrapped around her and Bridget. She’d been ready to do this alone, she really had. But Drake wasn’t going to let that happen. He hadn’t really let her face much alone since she’d first set foot on Cordonian soil, an impulsive New Yorker with no idea what she was in for. He’d had her back long before he loved her, long before he liked her even. And even now, years later, it still felt like a blessing she never could have expected.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured into her hair, “I’ve got you both.”

Riley let out a rough sigh, raising one hand to wipe away the tears still spilling down her cheeks. “Thank you, Drake.”

“Riley, I told you - I’m not gonna let anything happen to you or Bridget. Got it?”

She nodded, pulling back in his arms to meet his gaze and offer him the best smile she could muster. 

“Good. But we need to hit the road. This is already a long “diaper change,” and someone is bound to go looking for us,” he said, taking a step towards the car, sliding his arms from Riley’s back to grab Bridget who had twisted on her hip to grab onto Drake’s shirt. This time, Riley let him take her from her. “Before I put my foot in my mouth in there, I need to know what Ray knows.”

“He thinks Olivia is having him take me wherever I want to go.”

“Got it. You set?” he asked, opening the door for her with one hand as he bounced Bridget on his hip slightly.

“Yeah,” she responded, sliding into the back seat of the town car. Drake was seconds behind her, and as soon as he closed the door behind him, Ray twisted around to face them.

“Ready, Your Graces?”

Riley clutched Drake's hand on the seat next to her and gave Ray a little nod, “Yup. Same plan.”

“Excellent. Just knock if you need anything,” Ray said, turning back to face forward, starting the car and raising the privacy divider between the driver’s and back seats. 

Within seconds, the car was rolling forward. Bridget was babbling, patting her chubby little hands against the window. She loved car rides so much. Drake, on the other hand, sat rigidly straight, staring out the window with her, but clearly just as anxious as Riley that they weren’t even going to make it off the palace grounds without getting stopped. But they barely paused for a few seconds at the guard station before the gates swung open and they turned onto the main road.

Riley let out a massive sigh of relief and Drake closed his eyes and tipped his head back, also letting out a rough breath as he gave her hand a squeeze. As they picked up speed, distancing themselves more and more from the palace, Riley leaned over to rest her head on Drake’s shoulder, smiling up at him as he opened his eyes and turned his head to look at her. He dropped a long kiss on her forehead before pulling back and nodding at her, slowly and surely. For now, they were safe, and they were together. It was a good first step.

Permatag:  @walkerswhiskeygirl   @riley--walker  @bebepac @ravenpuff02 @oofchoices @octobereighth @drakewalker04 @kimmiedoo5  @mfackenthal  @thequeenofcronuts  

The Royal Romance/The Royal Heir: @ao719 @mskaneko @katedrakeohd @jovialyouthmusic @marshmallowsandfire @axwalker @kingliam2019 @sirbeepsalot @texaskitten30 @princessleac1 @ladyangel70 @dcbbw @yaushie

Drake x MC: @drakeandcamilleofvaltoria  @iplaydrake @gibbles82 @drakewalkerisreal @notoriouscs  @drakesensworld​

#drake walker #drake x mc #trr au #trh au #trr fanfic #trr au fanfic #trh fanfic #trh au fanfic

[shnuggletea]

InuKag Week 2020

Sorry but this one's a two-parter. I'll try to get part two up later today. Day six of InuKag Week: Reunion! @inukag-week​ here’s day six!

Reunion Part One

Life as a mob boss sure did pay well. The playground Inuyasha had put in was so cool I wanted to play on it too. But for now, I had to settle for watching Moroha play. Some of the playground pieces made me very nervous. She was only three and the damn thing was designed for five and up. It all just meant I was super vigil on my padded swing.

"Moroha! Get down from there this instant!"

She was climbing on the outside of the playground again. If she kept this up, she was going to break something. I was just about to get up from my comfortable spot and stand under her instead when she released a squeal.

"Yashie, Yashie, Yashie!"

My heart leapt with her leap from the top stair of the slide, remaining on her toddler legs and racing towards the man still in his suit. He was coming home a little early these days but something told me it was all because he didn't trust me. I couldn't really blame him after the first time.

I didn't get up, Moroha already in Inuyasha's arms there was no room for me anyway. He was busy tossing the toddler in the air but still took time to notice me. He chuckled when I ignored him, running off to play with his daughter for a few minutes before negotiating some time to speak with me.

He sat next to me on the swing and it flew for a few seconds from the added weight. It wasn't long before he broke the short silence. "You're not still mad are you?"

"Yes."

When he chuckled again I punched his shoulder hard. "You agreed to it! I didn't take advantage, you wanted it as much as I did!"

"It wasn't you that just got the three-year-old potty trained! Finally done with diapers and now I have to start all over again."

"You just got Moroha out and you don't have much time left until this one arrives," he said, patting my very large belly, "so it's not as if you have a large break in between."

"I guess it's better than having two babies in diapers at the same time," I added, putting my hands on top of his.

"Uncle Yashie you feel my brother?"

Moroha had stopped to take notice of her Uncle rubbing my belly. Inuyasha passed her a sweet smile that dropped when he turned back to my frown. "What?"

"You're not going to put your name on the birth certificate for this one either, are you?" Dropping his eyes first, he shook his head and I sighed, exasperated. "What are we going to do when Moroha starts school? All the other kids will have fathers…"

"She has a father.."

"She's going to start asking questions…"

"As long as she doesn't tell people I'm her father it'll be okay…"

"Inuyasha! You realize your children will grow up thinking their father abandoned them?"

"But I didn't, I'm right here." He growled.

We were both getting too loud and Moroha had stopped to stare at us.

"Besides, there's still a couple more years until we have to decide about school."

I looked at him carefully while he watched our daughter go back to her play. "What does that mean? Decide?"

"Well, there's private school...or home school?"

"Tenoe. You can keep me locked away until the day I die but your children need to get out and see the world."

"I know…"

"Experience things.."

"I know…"

"Have a life!"

"God I know! It was just… a thought that's all!"

I shifted my weight, pulling free from his touch. "If we homeschooled would you tell them the truth? Come clean about being their father or would you still hide them from yourself?"

Now he shifted, uneasy with my question. "Fine. We'll do private school." Sitting back, he settled a bit but I knew the look on his face and I didn't like it. "What do you think about the name… Sota?"

My heart squeezed painfully in my chest and I stared wide-eyed at him. "Where… did you learn that name?"

Placing a hand on my belly to calm me, he watched his fingers instead of my face. "The only thing you ever talk about from your past is the home. So…. I did a little digging…"

"That's my personal business!" He eyed me carefully and I relented. "Fine. What else do you know?"

"Father passed away when you were five, leaving you, your mother, and one-year-old brother behind. Then they died in a house fire when you were eight. You truly are a survivor…"

"It was luck. I was taking care of my grandfather who had the flu. I just happened to be at his place when our apartment complex went up in flames. If I had been there… I could at least have saved Sota."

"You… If you had been there, you'd be dead now too." He said, stroking my hair gently.

I really hated talking about this, which was why I never talked about it with anyone. But if I couldn't tell Inuyasha, who could I tell? "I blocked most of that night out of my mind so I really don't remember much other than losing my family in one swoop."

"...That makes sense." He took my hint to stop pressing and moved on. "Was the grandfather you cared for the same one you lived with after that until you were nine?"

"Yes."

"Why did you leave his care?"

I shrugged, "We was 89. He deserved to be taken care of not taking care of a damaged kid."

"You thought living on the streets was better?"

"He was weak. The year I lived with him he'd gotten sick once a month because I was a kid bringing home germs. No matter what he said, I knew it was my fault. So I called social services to collect him and ran away. I was only on the streets for nine months before Mother Kaede found me…"

"But those nine months were enough," he said in a manner that made my spine tingle, "I assume it's where you got your experience?"

I knew what he was talking about but it was absolutely something I never wanted to speak about. I did what I had to to survive and I wasn't ashamed. That didn't mean I wanted to walk down memory lane.

"If you already know, then we don't need to discuss it. Ever."

His response was to nod but by the look on his face, he didn't want to talk about it either. Inuyasha got jealous at just the idea of me with another even with it all in his head. No way he wanted to talk about my dark past and what I did for food.

Regardless, he was my first and only so whatever jealousy he felt, he would just have to get over. After all, I didn't ask or give him a hard time about his past lovers. I didn't want to know, they were in the past and had no effect on us.

"So… Sota?" He asked, trying to lighten the mood.

His smile was contagious and it pissed me off that I couldn't stop mine from spreading across my face. "Sota is perfect."

oOo

"Moroha get in this bed, I won't tell you again!"

She groaned but put her toys up, finally, and crawled into her bed. Tucking her in and giving her a kiss, I moved over to the bed next to hers.

"Goodnight, Sota."

Little hands reached up and grabbed my neck, pulling me to him for his goodnight kiss. Firmly tucked, I gave a nod to their nanny and backed away towards the door.

"I love you."

"Love you too, Mommy." They both said in unison.

The winter light had faded a few hours ago, leaving the dim lights in the hall to show the way. Seven years in this house, I had it memorized anyway.

Just as I shut the bedroom door, the bathroom door opened and Inuyasha stepped out. Our eyes met instantly. "Are they asleep?"

I shrugged. "They're tucked in with the nanny on watch. Won't be long now."

He leapt over to me and grabbed me up. The thick robe I had on hit the floor in a hurry. But when he pulled the straps of my teddy down, I caught it before it passed my ribs. "Can I… keep this on?"

Inuyasha had been making his way to my nipples but stopped and found my face instead. "Why?"

"I don't… It's just… I've had two babies now and two years later I still look… I'm not happy with my body."

Hands that had been on my ass cheeks went to my face cheeks and cupped them. "I'm very happy with your body."

"You're just saying that…"

"Baby. You're even more beautiful now than you were before those two babies." I shook my head at him and he began to run his hands slowly down me. "Kagome, haven't you noticed how we fuck more often than before?"

I had noticed but thought it was just him trying for another baby already.

He pulled me in closer, pressing his hard cock into my belly. "You haven't noticed how much… bigger I get lately?"

I also thought that was my imagination. "I'm not… too loose now?"

He shook his head and grabbed my ass hard, lifting me off the floor. I wrapped my legs around him in response as well as my arms. He pressed himself against my core and I moaned in his ear.

"You're so wet right now, aren't you?" I nodded against his cheek with mine. "That's how you make me feel. So fucking turned on I can't stand it. God I want to be inside you right now."

"What's stopping you?" I whispered.

Two steps and he threw me to the bed. To prove his seriousness, he ripped my teddy in two. My gasp was covered by his mouth as he fell with all his weight on top of me. I lifted my legs up as high as I could, pulling my hips up with them. He plunged into me with all his might.

His hands on my hips and his mouth on my breasts, we rocked hard together on our bed. I had his strands wrapped around my fingers tight, digging into his scalp for something to hold onto as he made my world spin. I was so close, just about to come when he stopped and pulled out.

"Not yet, Baby."

Flipping me over like a pancake, he pulled my hips up. My face and shoulders remained on the mattress while he kneeled behind me. Up to his balls a second later, I was screaming his name into the sheets. Now instead of his hair, I fisted the comforter and thanked God for the forethought to put the kids' room at the other end of the hall.

Everyone knew. The fucking Nanny knew, I put the babies to bed and left to get stuck good by the man of the house. I know longer cared about who knew and who didn't, I had two beautiful children and a large home. And although I would never tell him, I loved Inuyasha more than any other man in the world.

Especially when he did things like this to me.

The slaps he made to my ass were hard but only mixed with the pleasure, making my body sing with it. It only sang more when he grabbed my fatty flesh hard with his hands, coming deep inside me. I was convulsing around him with him, feeling every pulse we made in rhythm with one another.

He slapped my ass one more time before pulling out. "Five minutes and we go again." But then he flipped me onto my back again and looked me over slowly. "On second thought, make it two minutes."

I laughed and he crawled over me.

oOo

Rushing out the bedroom door and towards the front stairs, I hurried towards the foyer. If those two continued to be so loud, they were going to wake the kids.

Inuyasha and I had been celebrating the early and continued sleep of both kids by getting naked and playing in bed when the doorbell wouldn't stop ringing. And then it did when one of the staff answered and then knocked, bringing Inuyasha out of bed and down to the door. Where I found him yelling at the late-night guest.

"Why does any of that shit matter?!"

"Why?!" It was Inuyasha's brother, Sesshomaru, and even less considerate than the last time I saw him seven years ago. "Because she's coming back. Three days from now Kikyo will not only be in this country, but she will be in this house."

"Kikyo could care less…"

"The only reason she is even coming here is because she heard about you and your family."

Inuyasha gaped for a second but then recovered. "Who's going around telling anyone about them?!"

"Who the hell knows. What matters is you've got a big fucking mess to clean up, starting with Kagome."

"She isn't just some mess, she's the mother of my children and you'd better show her some goddamn respect."

Sesshomaru had one foot out the door, "I do respect her. For putting up with all your bullshit." Sess froze and Inuyasha was eerily quiet from the jab. Then Sess sighed. "She doesn't know does she?"

"I'm going to tell her…"

"When? After she gives birth to baby number five?! Seven years, Inuyasha. I've applauded you for your fidelity but you need to come clean!"

"I'm going to tell her everything."

Inuyasha repeated like a robot. It had a cold hand squeezing my heart. Sesshomaru's last act was to slam the door behind him while Inuyasha found me on the stairs. He said nothing, storming up and grabbing my hand, taking me back upstairs.

"Inuyasha…"

"We're going to bed."

"But…"

He stopped, spinning to face me. Already taller than me he was a giant standing a stair above me. But he leaned over and cupped my cheeks. "I promise, we'll talk. I just really...want to be with you right now. I want to get lost in each other. I want to forget my own name coming so hard and you remind me when you scream it from coming hard with me."

I was scared. Scared of what it was that had Inuyasha so freaked out. And it was clear he didn't want to talk about it, stripping us both as soon as we had the door shut and not stopping for well over two hours now.

On his lap, I bounced hard, both of us covered in sweat. Using his shoulders as an anchor, I rocked his tip into my dam over and over again. He held onto my ankles, pulling on them to get deeper inside me.

Suddenly, he lifted my feet, my hips going higher. Now my thighs rested on his chest while my ass slapped his hips. My back arched as wave after wave of hot white pleasure flooded my veins, leaving only my head on the bed. I'd lost count how many times I'd lost my mind tonight. Losing it again loudly.

"Oh god...Inuyasha...AAAAAHHHH!"

Inuyasha groaned as well, saying my name over and over again as he came. But we were insatiable.

Taking a short breather, Inuyasha massaged my calves, my thighs still wrapped around his waist while the rest of me was splayed out before him.

He was looking at me, drinking me in while I watched the ceiling spin. "You're so beautiful."

I ignored him. He was buttering me up which meant whatever he had to tell me was bad. Part of why I didn't want to stop was because of this. Whatever he said was going to change our lives, I just knew it. So I wanted more. As much of this life I loved before it was wrecked.

The other part of my need was hormones, wondering how much what Inuyasha said would ruin what I needed to say. Or if I would be able to tell him I was pregnant again at all.

Silly me to think for once I'd tell him before my body did, not telling him about Sota like I didn't Moroha. And that it would be a happy occasion when I did.

Pulling me up, he settled me back on his lap. His mouth kneaded mine, sucking and tugging on my lips. While his hands squeezed my ass, pushing me against his, already hard again, dick.

Our mouths popped when he pulled away. "You're beautiful. And sweet. I love watching you with our children."

"Inuyasha…"

His head fell to my chest as he sighed heavily. "Not yet. I'm not...I'm not ready yet. One more time, please. Let's fuck one more time, Baby."

I struggled to say no before he used his pet name for me. Probably why it wasn't until close to dawn that I got him to stop.

My foot on his chest, I had him pushed to the other side of the bed. Once there, he didn't move; more out of exhaustion than actually wanting to stop. "I can't go another round."

Next thing I knew it was mid-morning. I had passed out after getting Inuyasha off of me. Tucked into bed, I sprang up and grabbed my robe, putting it on as I raced down the hall. My first stop was the children. Moroha had made it off to school no problem. I was told Sota was on the playground.

After throwing on some clothes, I headed straight there.

Inuyasha didn't go to work today. I knew it in my bones and it was confirmed when I saw his car still in the driveway. There was no shock when he was with Sota. The two were thick as thieves, a typical father-son pair. But Sota was a Momma's boy, running as fast as his toddler legs could carry him when he saw me.

His father, however, kept his distance, watching the two of us. With his hands in his pockets and a slight paling of his face, I knew he knew what I was there for.

"Mommy, Uncle is here!"

It wasn't new by a long shot but of all days today was not a good day to remind me of Inuyasha's continued lies to his children. "Yeah he and I need to talk but I had a bad night so he waited for me. Thank you for keeping him company, Booger."

Sota frowned as the Nanny stepped up and took him back to the playground. I led Inuyasha to the zen garden as I was sure we would both need it. He kept his distance at first but then he had my wrists in his hold.

"Kagome, I'm going to need you and the kids to be extra careful for the next several days. Weeks maybe."

"Why? What was Sesshomaru talking about last night? I've never seen you so spooked!"

He swallowed hard, his apple dancing in front of my eyes. "Because someone, I should have told you about, is coming to visit…"

"Kikyo? I heard that name. Is that who you're afraid of? Why?!"

I had put off the conversation all night but now, I needed to know. Especially if it affected my children.

"I'm not afraid of her. I'm afraid of you. Afraid of how you will react."

My heart couldn't take much more of this. "Just tell me! Who is she?!"

"She's…. my wife."

Don't hate me, don't hate me, don't hate me!

#inukagweek 2020 #inukag #inuyasha #Kagome Higurashi #inuyasha fanfiction #inuyasha fandom #faulkner writing #more fluff #and then a cliffhanger #i swear theres a happy ending to this

[creacherkeeper]

It Starts With An Earthquake, Birds and Snakes, an Aeroplane 

~2000 words. crowley/aziraphale. angst with a happy ending 

(link to AO3 be reblogged)

“So.” Aziraphale clears his throat. “That really happened, then.”

The demon hums.

“The end of the world, I mean.”

“I know what you meant, angel.”

Aziraphale turns to look out at the destruction before them—a world turned to ash and chaos. Surely, Adam didn’t mean for it to go like this, he thinks. He seemed like a very good boy indeed. Certain instincts took over, in the end, that none of them were powerful enough to stop.

His wings flitter, aching for the heat of the sun after so long spent pressed into his shoulder blades. There’s only a darkened sky full of soot above them.

“What do we do now?”

Finally, Crowley turns to look at him. His glasses are gone, torn off in the explosion of the end of times. For the first time that Aziraphale’s seen, his feathers look dirty and rumpled. To the sclera, his eyes have gone gold. Around the edges of his face, black scales rupture from under his skin.

“Not sure there’s much to do,” Crowley says, sounding … almost bored, Aziraphale thinks. It’s an act. “You know what’s going to happen next.”

“I don’t,” Aziraphale says, and, to be true, yes, he does. But he wants Crowley to say anything but that. “It’s not like I read about it in the paper.”

A little huff of breath escapes the demon, not quite a laugh. “They’re gonna make us fight, you and me. Demons versus angels. The final battle. They’re readying the troops down there, I can feel it.”

Aziraphale closes his eyes and reaches up. Not with his arms, but his senses. That sixth sense that’s always tied him to goodness and virtue, to the divine upstairs. He reaches up, and feels with all his might.

His breath escapes in something like a sob. “I can’t feel anything,” he says, turning desperately to Crowley. “I don’t feel anything at all.”

The look Crowley pins him with is so sad and aching, it’s all Aziraphale can do to keep looking at him.

“Did they—?” Aziraphale blinks, and his mouth stutters open. He’s reaching out before he realizes it, craving the connection that was just cut off to him. “They don’t want me anymore.”

Crowley catches his hand without a second thought. “They didn’t deserve you, angel.”

He takes one deep, shuttering breath, and then holds. He can’t help the tears that prick at his eyes. “Is this … did I fall? Is this what falling is?”

“No,” the demon is quick to assure him. “You’d know.”

Aziraphale nods, taking at least a little comfort in that. He’s still, for better or worse, an angel. An angel without a tether in the world except the demon’s hand.

“What do we do, Crowley?” He asks, voice tearing out of him with fear. “I mean- What do we do? I can’t- I won’t fight. I won’t do it.”

“Fight or hide, we’re gonna die either way. Our respective agencies won’t exactly be happy with us.”

Aziraphale pulls back, anger on his angelic face, and misses the contact as soon as their palms leave each other. “No. No! You’re not giving up. Don’t do that to me.”

Crowley snarls, turning to face him and spreading out his arms. His wings, dirtied and battered, spread out behind him. “What’s there left to give up on? The world’s gone, Aziraphale, it’s ended. The only thing left is the war. The war over the whole universe. There’s Heaven and Hell and the battlefield—that’s it. Nowhere left to go.”

“Alpha Centauri!” he shouts, and he hadn’t realized there were tears on his face until now. “We can go to Alpha Centauri.”

Crowley laughs, just one pained laugh, flexing his jaw. “It’s too late for that, angel. I asked you to go. I asked when we still had a chance, and you said no.”

Aziraphale sniffs. “Well, I’m sorry. I … had hope. Forgive me for that.”

“Oh, angel,” Crowley says, a sigh hissing out through his nose. His expression softens. “Of all the people who need to be forgiven in this whole mess, you’re not one of them.”

Aziraphale smiles, and the smile hurts, this whole thing hurts, but he smiles. “I may have lost the other angels,” he starts. “I may have lost my bookshop and the park, crepes and sushi and good wine …” He struggles to keep the smile on his face, grinning through his tears. “I may have lost humanity, but I’m not losing you.”

“Angel …”

Crowley looks taken aback when Aziraphale surges forward and links their hands, fingers slipping to lock in place with fingers.

“We can do this, Crowley. Not a blessing, not a sin. No temptations or miracles. Just us. Just the two of us. Making magic.”

Crowley’s lip trembles—not much, just enough for the angel to notice. He looks like he wants to give in, like Aziraphale’s temptation, or whatever you want to call it, has succeeded. “We’ve never done anything this big before.”

“Between the two of us?” Aziraphale squeezes his hand. “All the magic we have—all the magic we’ll ever need again. Between us, working together, I have faith that we can do it.”

“Faith,” Crowley repeats.

Their conjoined hands rise, and Aziraphale meant to kiss the back of Crowley’s, but his breath is coming out too shaky, and his muscles aren’t working right. Instead, he just presses it to his face and breathes, feeling the scrape of the rough scales.

“Faith,” Crowley says again.

Aziraphale hums.

“Let’s say we try. Let’s say we shoot ourselves up into space, and our magic runs out. And we’re just stuck up there. What then?”

Aziraphale breathes, in and out, in and out. He doesn’t need to, but suddenly he feels like he needs the air more than he has in 6,000 years.

“Imagine it, my dear,” he says instead. “Imagine a little cottage, up in Alpha Centauri. We’ll have a garden in the back with so many plants for you to torment. We’ll make breakfast, and stay up late drinking wine. I’ll have more books than I know what to do with, and I’ll read them to you. I know you don’t like books, but we’ll have to do something to pass the time.”

“Angel,” Crowley says, and he sounds a little choked, but Aziraphale isn’t going to open his eyes to check.

They both feel it. They feel both of them—Heaven and Hell, one ascending and one descending, their armies beginning to march.

The sky starts to rumble and the ground starts to quake. Any moment now, they’ll be here. The war will start, and that will be that. The end of the end. The war to end all things.

Aziraphale tugs, and then they’re slotted together, the two of them. It’s the closest they’ve been in a long time. His arms are wrapped around Crowley’s middle, so tight he can feel the thick scales on his spine from under his shirt. His chin is on Crowley’s shoulder, their heads knocking together as Crowley hugs back. Their two heartbeats—human and silly as it is—start to pound in time.

Aziraphale’s wings swoop low, and Crowley’s high. No one would be able to see them from the outside, just white and black feathers, all wrapped together.

“Imagine it, Crowley.”

Crowley tucks his face against Aziraphale’s neck and breathes a very shaky breath. If Aziraphale didn’t know better, he’d think the demon was scared.

(Scared of what?

Everything. God Almighty, everything.)

“Can you see it?” Aziraphale asks, and he can hear the high-pitched desperation in his own voice. “Crowley, do you see the cottage? Do you see our stacks of books and the garden? What kind of tea will we have? Is it sunrise there? Crowley, please.”

Crowley squeezes him tighter, tighter and tighter, so tight it’s painful, not that Aziraphale is complaining. Just feeling Crowley’s arms around his shoulders is enough. Feeling Crowley’s heartbeat in his own chest, his warmth pressed against him. This might be their last moments together (this might be their last moments period) but that’s okay. They’re here, now. All wrapped up as one.

And the imagining, really, is all Aziraphale needs.

The ground opens, and the sky opens, and that’s it. The end of the apocalypse. The beginning of the war.

“I never said I don’t like books.”

And then Aziraphale gets hot, hotter than he’s ever been, and he wonders if this is hellfire, if the demons found them first and this is their punishment being caught like this. He’s too afraid to open his eyes and check. He just holds Crowley tighter, and lets the heat envelope him.

It is interesting, though, after a moment’s thought, that he’s not burning. One should assume an angel would burn in hellfire.

And then he realizes that Crowley is holding him so tight for two reasons—one, Crowley is exerting a ridiculous amount of effort, so much so that his muscles are shaking, his whole body is shaking, his breath panting. Two, it’s not hellfire that’s making it so hot, but the sheer force of being flung so fast out of orbit and into space. Crowley just doesn’t want to slip and let go.

He can feel it. Aziraphale can feel it. Magic, wild and unclaimed. Not moral good or moral bad, not sin or virtue, just magic.

And then it’s done. There’s solid ground beneath his feet again, and Crowley slumps against him. Aziraphale holds him up, of course. He’s not the strongest of the angels, but he would hold Crowley up as long as he needed.

“Did you …?” Aziraphale pauses.

Crowley’s breath shudders out of him. And then, dreadfully slow, painfully, achingly slow, his black wings pull back. There’s an odd smell, one Aziraphale remembers from long, long ago. Burning wings. He could always smell it on new demons. He pulls back, taking in the demon’s face.

“Crowley, are you—?”

He tilts his head, and Aziraphale follows his golden gaze.

Above them, stars. Nebulae. As far as the eye can see.

And in front … a little cottage. There’s a picket fence, a yard with grass and a tree. He can see a trestle with tomato vines peeking out from around back. The cottage is white, with a dark red roof and red brick chimney. Beside it, a little stream.

It’s honestly and completely exactly how he’d pictured it.

“Ssssssurprise,” Crowley hisses.

Aziraphale laughs, and it’s a joyful sound despite the tears that come out with it.

“It’s perfect,” he says. “Darling, it’s just wonderful.”

“You helped,” Crowley says, and it sounds like it takes great effort for him to get the words out. “Not a blessing or a temptation, not a miracle or a curse.” Crowley swallows, leaning into him heavier. “Just us. Just the two of us and one last bit of magic.”

“You’re spent,” Aziraphale says, because they’ve come so far together, but Aziraphale still doesn’t have the words for everything he wants to say. “Come now, let’s get you inside. We can sit and watch the sunrise through the windows, won’t that be nice?”

They cross past the little sign that says South Downs Cottage, Aziraphale supporting most of Crowley’s weight, and they open the front door.

And they do indeed watch the sunrise through the windows.

It’s not their sun. Not the one they’re used to, anyway. And the grass outside isn’t real grass, and the water in the stream is more what they both think water should be like than actual h2O. It’s not their sun—but Rigil Kentaurus warms their faces all the same.

One day, the war might find them.

Or, Aziraphale thinks, it won’t. Maybe they’ll just make breakfasts, and he’ll watch Crowley as he works in the garden. Maybe Aziraphale will read him books while Crowley pretends to sleep. Maybe Aziraphale will learn how to actually sleep, a deep, restful sleep, in a big bed with a down comforter that they’ll share together. Maybe the war won’t come, and they won’t even be waiting for it.

Maybe the war won’t come, and it’ll just be the two of them forever, a former angel and a former demon, a little cottage and its three suns, and just enough magic to last for the rest of their lives.  

#good omens #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #YOU GUYS MADE ME DO THIS #WITH ... ALL YOUR SUPPORT AND LOVELY TAGS AND SUCH #IM SICK AND I SPENT VALUABLE LYING DOWN TIME TO TYPE THIS UP #ilu #maybe more fic to come because im IN DEEP #link to ao3 to be reblogged in a sec #my gomens #my go fic

[mangled-dreams]

Sins of the Mother: 11

Part 11: Death

Previous: Collection, Agreement, Terms, Truth, Accident, Goodbye, Grieving, Visions, Recovery, Disillusion,

Waking up feeling more groggy than when you went to sleep you rub your eyes and yawn. The edges of your mouth stretch painfully and tears line your eyes. Licking your lips you blink a few times looking around your familiar room.

Everything looks just at it had last night, everything except one little detail. Dark lies next to you on your bed. It's a king, so there is more than enough room and you immediately attribute that fact to why you hadn't noticed before, but the fact still remains: Dark is in your bed sleeping.

His suit is crumpled and creased, your normal night time attire is still sung around your frame, and there is no indication that anyone got undressed. Blinking you look around once more before settling on Dark's sleeping features. Awake he's very pleasing to look at, it's no different now that he's asleep but you do note some differences between waking Dark and sleeping Dark.

Careful not to rock the bed too much you shimmy yourself closer. You've never imagined you'd see Dark with bed head, but from the state of him you assume he doesn't sleep soundly. Without thought you brush his jacket in a failed attempt to smooth it out before realizing you're touching him and retract it. You don't remember the last time you had a guest in your bed that didn't look to you as a mother. Tucking your legs under you, you rest against the headboard looking Dark over. He seems peaceful, relaxed, and... you can't quite put your finger on it, but he looks happier.

Covering a yawn again you know you should get up, take a shower, dress, eat something, go anywhere else to give Dark his privacy to sleep. You don't. Instead you gingerly touch a lock of his lush black hair. In the wake of a night's sleep you find his hair is naturally on the curly side. You play with the curls.

Soon, without meaning to your fingers move deeper into the thick tresses of hair, lightly scratching at his scalp. The soft mewing sound Dark makes startles you, your hand disappearing from his hair. He frowns, eye brows pinched together in disapproval of your withdraw, and he turns into you. Sitting ridged with your hands nearly straight in the air Dark curls his an arm and his head on your thighs.

When he finally settles again the breath you had been holding rushes out. After a few drawn out seconds you relax looking down at Dark with a tenderness you didn't think was possible. He reminds you of your siblings. Perhaps he's just as confused and scared of what's going on as you are, maybe even more so. You've noticed the little signs in his speech, the way he looked at you when he brought up Savannah in your car.

Leaning back into the headboard you take up lightly scratching Dark's scalp again, your fingers playing with his luscious locks once more. Call it years of doing this exact thing with your siblings, call it need for comfort in such a trying time in your life, hell, call it loneliness, but whatever you call it it soothes you.

Closing your eyes you try to allow yourself this little moment. You allow yourself to think that this--this change in your original idea of your future won't be so bad. You allow yourself to believe you can, perhaps, one day be happy with Dark--no, Damien. The longer you allow yourself to feel comforted and happy and content the more you feel a tug in your chest.

At first it wasn't anything to worry you, however the more it happens the more intense it gets. Before you really understand what is happening your breath becomes labored. The tug you'd first felt begins to pull sharply. Breathing heavily you press a hand to your breast bone. You've had panic attacks but never like this. Could it be your worst panic attack, or could it be something else?

Black spots slowly take over your vision as you attempt to control your breathing. Nothing you are trying is helping. You can't recall when but the weight on your lap disappears and hands grab your wrists. Through the black spots dotting your vision you see Dark looking up at you.

This confuses you even in your disoriented state. There is no way that Dark should be below you. He towers over you, how... how can he be looking up to you.

"Y/n, look at me. Listen to my voice. You can fight this." Dark says loudly, but it's not a shout. His voice is strong and steady as he talks to you. His voice resonates through you. In a way it's comforting and you feel connected to it, cling to it for safety.

"Dam--Damien, it hurts..." you whisper clutching at your shirt. The feeling gives another sharp pull in your chest.

"Dammit, Savannah, leave her alone." Dark growls his voice rumbling through your whole frame. You feel as if it should shake your whole house. It frightens you on some level, more than that it comforts you. You know he's not angry with you, he's not upset that you're in this state, he fears for you.

In your moment of comfort something new and even more frightening happens. A vision passes just in front of Dark. The black dots still in your sight doesn't affect the image of your ancestor standing in front of you. The eyes so many artists portrayed as kind an gentle are anything but. A firm scowl graces her doll like features as she looks down at you.

"You disappoint me. Falling in love with a demon." She sneers in a tone just as cold as her gaze. "Disgusting."

Gritting your teeth you keep from remarking. You didn't want to or even mean to... to... Your eyes widen at the thought you could be in love with Dark. Even though now is not the time, nor the place to have such a thought you can't help it. Staring at Savannah you ask, "Do... Do I love him?"

Snapping her head, Savannah looks away from you. It's as if the question completely and utterly disgusts her. "A Scarlet is never meant to love. We use others to gain our purpose. It seems I failed that point."

"What? No! What about your children? Your grandchildren? They don't deserve that kind of treatment. No one can flourish on cold calculated partnerships. That's not a life!" You shout watching Savannah instantly crowd you. Her face inches from yours. She stares directly into your eyes. It's unnerving and you want to get away but refuse to show that much weakness.

What's to say she won't go after Ollie or Fern, what of your cousins, aunts, or uncles? Will anyone that bares the Scarlet name be safe from her?

"Learn to respect your elders, child." Savannah snarls. Her breath hits your face in a hot caress. You close one eye and wince but refuse to pull away from her.

"I give respect to the ones that deserve it, Savannah. You're nothing but a murderer that made a deal to save your own skin. No real mother would ever do anything to harm her children, much less treat them as if they're less than human." You snarl just as intensely back. "No one would respect a murderer like you if they knew the truth."

You've never seen this look aimed at you, but you have see the eyes of a bloodthirsty murderer in pictures and videos of true crime stories. The moment you uttered your response something in Savannah snapped. As if in slow motion you saw her face completely change and it scares you. Instantly you fear for your life.

Slim delicate hands wrap around your throat. Despite their size there is overpowering strength determined to crush your trachea. Tiny squeaks leave your mouth each time you try to draw in a breath. You scratch and pull at Savannah's hands desperate to get the air into your lungs again. A slow burning begins fueling your desperation for much needed oxygen.

Dark stares in horror as you scratch at your throat. He can only assume Savannah had reached out to you using a spell. You're looking, acting, talking as if speaking with the witch of nightmares. Grabbing your hands Dark tells you to stop, to think and fight back magic against magic.

Your eyes never look at him, your voice never calling out to him, but the look of fear in your eyes tells him everything. Savannah is trying to kill you--to choke the life out of you. A life he doesn't want to see snuffed out.

"Y/N!" Dark barks pleading for you to hear him, to acknowledge he is there with you still.

In the blackness around Savannah you hear your name, low and easily unheard, but then like aloud speaker had been turned on blast you hear Dark's voice.

"D--Dark..." You manage to squeak out. Realization hits you then. This isn't Savannah. She's nowhere near you. Even as you have this epiphany it doesn't change the fact that Savannah is still choking you and breath isn't making it to your lungs.

"Magic! Use your magic!" Dark shouts again keeping your hands away from your neck.

Magic. You think trying to recall a spell, an incantation, anything that could help you. Nothing comes to mind. The black spots are getting larger and even doting Savannah now. You just know the end is getting closer and if you don't do something now you'll die.

You can't do that to Ollie, Fern, your dad, even Dark. You can't just leave them because of Savannah and her ego or whatever she has going on. No. No!

Pushing deep into yourself you touch the magic slowly brewing inside yourself. Like you've read and have been told the longer you practice and learn spells the stronger your magic will get. You are nowhere near the strength Savannah must have but you have something she does, and as cliche as it is, you have the love of your family to give you strength.

Starring Savannah square in the eyes you push your magic at her without words, or preparation, or even enchanted ingredients. You know what Savannah lacks and that's exactly what you'll give her.

Within seconds Savannah releases your throat. Horrified screams rip from her mouth as the sins of her past rush her like zombies, ghosts forcing her to feel the pain and anguish of their loss, of the betrayal, heartache, sorrow. A fitting punishment this round.

You know it won't kill her. Not by any means, but it will distract her and break her concentration on the spell. You just know to project herself like she is it's concentration based. Within seconds, like a candle being snuffed out, Savannah disappears and the darkness greets you.

"Come on." Dark whispers pressing his large hands into your chest. Your breathing and heart stopped the moment your body went limp in his arms. He'd nearly thrown you to the floor and began CPR to revive you. Seconds tick by into minutes as he frantically tries to save you like a normal human.

"Come on! Y/n, don't do this!" He shouts pinching your nose, lifts you chin enough to get air through your throat and breaths twice into your mouth. He tries to remain steadfast and calm but the longer you're dead the less likely you'll come back. No, he can't think like that. Even if you die he'll bring you back. He'll... He'll... "Please, come back." Dark pleads compressing your chest to keep your heart beating.

Gasping loudly you startle Dark. His body jerking away from you before quickly pulling you into his lap. Never has he wanted to cry in relief in all his life. Sighing with a sense of relief Dark sweeps your hair from your face. A light glistening of sweat covers your skin.

"My chest." You complain feeling sharp pains all long your rib cage.

"I can fix that." Dark tells you smiling just slightly. He'll never admit to it, but the feeling and sound of your ribs breaking under his first few compression will haunt him for a time.

Your whole body aches and muscles burn, you have huge migraine, and you feel sticky and gross and dead tired. There is a rawness in your throat that burns when you breath or speak. "Did I die?" You ask remembering the feeling of Savannah's hands around your throat.

Dark catches your eyes. "Yes." He answers dead seriously. You see the horrifying truth staring back at you in his dark brown eyes. Dark truly believed you died in his arms, under his watch where you are supposed to be protected. "Don't do that again." He tells you burying his face into your stomach. It hurts but not as much as if he'd pressed his face into your chest or neck.

Breathing with more ease than a few minutes ago, considering you weren't breathing just a minute ago, you raise an aching hand and run it through Dark's hair. "I hate to ruin the moment, but I need to shower..." Pausing a moment you add, "And see a doctor."

Dark obliges you. After a very quick and awkward shower he drives you to the hospital where they are told you'd been attacked in your home. The police were called, Dark handled the conversation easily making the officers and hospital staff believe his tale. You let him without a fight.

Savannah is enough of a pain in the ass right now, you don't need the police to get involved. Laying back in your hospital bed resting a peacefully as you can you hear quick footsteps getting closer to your room. Within seconds the door is shoved open. Two crying blurs rush your bed climbing up the stiff mattress to cling to you.

You yelp in pain when tiny but heavy hands press into your chest. Wrapping your arms around your chest you sit up breathing heavily to keep from crying out much more.

"Sis!"

"Y/n! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

Forcing a pain filled smile you look at each twin in turn. "It's okay, you... ah... you didn't know." You tell them breathing through the pain. Even with painkillers you still have quite a bit of pain when your chest is pushed on. Thankfully nothing is misaligned and surgery is not required. Of course you doubt Dark would allow you to go under the knife to fix broken bones.

"Are you okay? I'm sorry." Fern says getting off the bed to let you lay back down. Ollie does the same.

Taking a few steady breaths you ease back into the bed with an apologetic smile on your lips. "Yes, sweetheart, it does hurt. You'll have to be gentle with me for a while, okay?" You ask closing your eyes. Tears line your lower lashes.

"Fern, Oliver, don't run off on me... oh GOD! Y/n, who did this to you?" You father cries rushing to your bedside next to Fern. "Oh, my baby."

You sure are a sight, that's for sure. Gauze and bandages are wrapped around your neck where you'd clawed at your own skin to get Savannah's hands off your throat. Dark circles formed under your eyes and you have bruising running up and down your neck for added effect. Despite Savannah's hands being so small the imprints left on your neck are much larger.

"Do I look ready for prom?" You joke needing it to keep from crying.

Your father gives you a half smile even as he looks so close to crying. "Baby, you always look beautiful."

Two tears slip down your face. You may be a grown woman that raised three children and took on the responsibilities that shouldn't have been yours, but at heart you're still that 18 year old needing her mom and dad to hug her and tell her everything is okay. "Daddy, I was so scared." You whisper unable to keep your eyes open.

Garrett stands again and moves to the top of your bed. He'd hug you if he didn't think it'd cause you more pain. Brushing your hair from your face he presses a kiss to your crown. "I know baby. I know. I love you Y/n. I'm sorry."

You let yourself cry then. Ollie and Fern both sit in chairs on either side of you, their heads resting on your legs, their hands holding yours letting you have this. Above you Garrett is stroking your hair whispering to you that it'll be okay.

Dark stands just outside your room. Anger runs through his veins. He still doesn't understand what Savannah's plan truly is but attacking you is unforgivable. Clenching his fists Dark vows a painful death to the woman. He swore his protection to you and he plans of ensuring that this threat is taken care of.

#Sins of the Mother #Darkiplier #Dark is Damien #reader insert #Female reader #another chapter #needed fluff #followed by death #literally #savannah's a bitch #dark gets mad #every story needs a little death

[backseat-negan]

|Long-Awaited Savior: Part Fourteen|

Check out previous chapters and the Masterlist

Characters: Negan (JDM) x female reader, Jovana (OC), Eugene, Daryl, Simon

Word Count: 6,368

HEADS UP: Smut, language, description of physical injuries & abuse

Chapter Summary: You learn the truth about why the Alexandrians want Negan dead. You also share an intimate night with Negan and have a painful conversation with Jovana.

Author’s note: The second-to-last chapter is finally here after a rough couple weeks for me. This has been one of the most agonizing chapters I’ve ever written. I’ll leave it at that.

PART FOURTEEN: LOVE & PAIN

After two hours in the clinic, Dr. Carson was still nowhere near finished tending to Jovana’s wounds. You sat in silence, watching her grit her teeth with closed eyes as he scrubbed her burns clean and bandaged them. The shock still hadn’t worn off. You had to keep repeating the facts to yourself over and over, attempting to make them feel real.

 Jovana is alive.

 Dwight is dead.

 A war is starting.

She had been stabbed in the side – you assumed by Dwight – and Dr. Carson believed one of the ligaments in her knee to be torn. On one hand, you wanted to allow Jovana to rest and recover from everything she had been through, but you also wanted to know exactly what happened after that ceiling collapsed in the building.

 Be patient… you’ll know soon enough.

 After another hour, Jovana was finally bandaged enough to go back to your room and rest. You walked with her, supporting her weight as she limped painfully in spite of a knee brace from Dr. Carson. Thankfully, Simon had been anxiously patrolling the area outside the clinic, so he immediately offered to help you with the daunting task of getting Jovana up the three flights of stairs to your shared room.

 When all three of you finally reached the door, Simon lingered, lightly clinging to Jovana’s hand as his eyes darted nervously over to you and back to her. She giggled softly and turned Simon’s full attention to herself with just a single finger on his cheek. After another moment of awkward hesitation, he finally dipped his head and pressed his lips desperately to hers, his fingers trailing delicately down her neck and across her collarbone. You politely turned your gaze to the floor, trying (and failing) to stifle the grin that immediately spread across your face.

 Even with the world gone to shit, love still exists.

 Simon clearing his throat brought your eyes back up, and it was impossible to ignore the flush of pink in Jovana’s cheeks, even with the burns present. He patted you on the back and murmured quietly to you.

 “Thanks for keeping an eye out for her. You let me know if you need anything, understand?”

 You nodded with a smile and thanked him before pushing the door open and helping Jovana into the room, easing her down onto her bed as gently as you could. As soon as you let go, she motioned for paper and a pen. You hurriedly grabbed a notebook from under your bed and pulled out two pens – one for her, and one for yourself. She took the notebook and flipped to a clear page and began writing.

 Did you find the knife?

 You smiled and nodded, reaching across to write your response.

 YES! You’re brilliant. So what happened?

 Which part?

 After the ceiling fell, I couldn’t see you. When the Saviors got there, they could only find Dwight and he said there were no other survivors.

 Jovana growled in anger and began writing furiously. You sat down next to her, carefully making sure not to brush against her bandages and reading as she wrote.

 I’m glad he’s dead. The only way out was upstairs. Knew a lot of people were sleeping up there. Tried to save them, but everyone was already gone. I saw Dwight carrying wires and empty gas cans out to the balcony I needed to get to. When he saw me, he attacked me – stabbed me, threw me in one of the burning rooms and barricaded the door. I couldn’t get out. The door finally burned so much that it started to crumble. I crawled out over the barricade. That’s where the burns came from. I went to the balcony and saw him going into the forest. I jumped down – hurt my knee more – and followed him. He needed to think I was dead so I didn’t go after him. He ran back to the building when the trucks showed up and I looked at everything he left there. I knew he started the fire. I left my knife there - hoping you would find it and know I was alive, know what happened – and started walking back here. I didn’t know how bad my knee was, or the stab wound or the burns… that’s why it took me so long.

 Your eyes ran over her words again and again. Dwight had tried to kill her. Even worse, he had left her for dead. He was a coward, and it was a good thing he was dead now. Jovana’s pen moved again.

 What did Eugene do?

 You sighed and pulled the notebook to your lap.

 Set everything up. They both wanted Negan dead. Negan was supposed to visit the day before the fire happened, and Dwight had the idea for the fire. Eugene got the supplies and put it all together, probably said it was for the electrical team. When he found out Negan’s plans changed, he called the whole thing off, but Dwight was pissed and did it anyway – and killed as many people as he could. He deserved to die.

 Why did they want Negan dead?

 It was a valid question, and you still didn’t know the answer. You shrugged helplessly and Jovana reached across you to write one last thing.

 Go find out.

 -

 Three days after the incident, you were grateful to discover Arat had gone back to her post outside of Maggie’s room. Gripping a bottle of water, you boldly approached the Savior keeping watch over the cells.

 “Keys, please.”

 Joey stared at you with uncertainty, a half-eaten turkey sandwich in one hand and a can of beer in the other. Rolling your eyes, you motioned to the keyring hanging off his belt.

 “Can I just grab them? I’ve got water for the Alexandrian.”

 “Which one?” Joey mumbled through a mouthful of sandwich.

 Daryl must still be down here.

 “Uh… Eugene, obviously.”

 “Boss said no food.”

 “Does water fucking sound like food to you?” you sneered, hoping your boldness would get you what you wanted instead of getting you reported to Negan. You decided to continue with the charade. “With no food, he suffers. No water? He dies. We need him alive. I’m taking the keys now.”

 Eyeing you one more time, Joey finally nodded his head, taking another bite of his sandwich. You quickly snatched the keyring from him.

 “Which cell?”

 “The smart guy’s in Room 2, just down the hall and… no, wait… the other guy’s in Room 2, the one you want is in Room 7.”

 Dipping your head in thanks, you tried to control your breathing as you stepped briskly toward the end of the hall.

 Room 5, Room 6… Room 7.

 Shoving the key into the lock, the handle turned with a bit of effort and the door fell open with a clunk. As light from the hallway flooded the room, you bit your tongue. The Alexandrian lay shaking on the concrete floor, stripped of his clothes. Dried blood covered his face and dark bruises had already shown up on his stomach, back, arms, and cheekbones. You cleared your throat and turned your face away as he scrambled to a sitting position in the corner, whimpering quietly and covering his face with his hands. Pulling the door shut behind you, you clicked on a small flashlight and held the bottle out to him.

 “Here… drink some of this, you need it. Hey! Eugene. Look at me, goddammit.”

 You almost felt sorry for the man as he continued to tremble, unable to move his hands away from his face. He jumped when you gently grasped one of his hands and pulled it away, looking into his terrified eyes. You shook your head with a sigh.

 “Look, I get it… I’d be scared too. I’m not here to hurt you though. You give me the answers to some questions I have, and I’ll let you have some water.”

 Eugene continued to eye you fearfully, so you eased yourself onto the cold floor, crossing your legs and holding the bottle out to him once more.

 “Negan doesn’t know I’m here.”

 His hand was shaking violently as he reached out and took the bottle from you. He twisted the cap off frantically and began gulping the water, downing half the bottle in a matter of seconds.

 “Hey, hey… slow down… you’ll puke it all back up, take it easy.”

 He lowered the bottle, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and turning his gaze to the ground before finally speaking.

 “I w-will do my b-best to answer any questions you m-might have.”

 “Fair enough. Big one first: why? Why did you and Dwight want Negan dead? And I don’t want bullshit – please don’t give me bullshit. I honestly want to know. You don’t seem like the killing kind of man.”

 Sniffing quietly, Eugene swallowed hard before speaking, his eyes still glued to the concrete floor.

 “Dwight and I did indeed have very different morals and codes of conduct, but we both came to the conclusion that Negan needed to be taken out of the picture. It is my personal belief that Negan is evil in its purest form. He kills people to make a point, to establish power… to control. I can say with almost full certainty that he will not be killing me any time soon. No… it is most likely he will use my transgressions as a reason to kill my friends back home. That’s his MO, his modus operandi. He’d rather kill someone close to me than kill me. It’s more painful. Negan lives to control and instill fear.”

 As Eugene went silent, you mulled his words over in your head.

 “You didn’t answer the question.”

 His tear-filled eyes jerked up to meet yours in fear, gripping the water bottle tightly as he began trembling again.

 “C-can you please repeat the question?”

 “Why? Why did you want him dead?”

 “Because I want it to stop.”

 “Want what to stop?”

 “The death, the fear, the fighting… I want it all to stop.”

 “You want the death to stop so you went and killed a bunch of innocent people?”

 “That was not supposed to happen!” Eugene shouted, his voice cracking and his face beginning to redden. “Th-that was never part of the plan. The plan was to burn down the Saviors’ residential building while Negan was asleep. Take out the boss and a good percentage of his most dedicated followers in one fell swoop. I never wanted any innocent people to get hurt… I never wanted anyone dead except Negan and the Saviors. That is where Dwight and I differed. He had become more like Negan than he realized.”

 Your eyes bore into Eugene’s until he became uncomfortable and looked away, taking a cautious sip of the water.

 “Tell me what he did.”

 “I beg your pardon?”

 “Tell me what Negan did to your people.”

 You watched his eyes dart back and forth, clearly trying to choose his next words carefully. After an extended silence, you cleared your throat, prompting him to speak.

 "Negan's arrival directly resulted in some of the worst events our group has had to endure. He bludgeoned two of our people to death, one of them a soon-to-be father and the other a best friend to many, including myself. He took Daryl with him and... well, I'm sure your aware of that situation."

 "I'm actually not," you interrupted. "Why don't you enlighten me since you've spent so many shifts down here?"

 Eugene quickly averted his eyes and swallowed hard before continuing in a quiet and monotone voice.

 "Dog food sandwiches. Routine torture. Physical beatings. The severity and frequency have increased since the fire."

 "The fire you helped start."

 "I do indeed take responsibility for my actions," Eugene defended. "I will not argue for one second that I do not belong right here in this cell, because I believe I do. But Daryl is the one paying for my mistake and that's hardly what one would consider justice. It's Negan. He hurts the ones you care about instead of hurting you."

 "What else has he done?"

 "I helped fashion a bullet that was intended for Negan, but it did not find its mark. An innocent person was shot for that. Another man tried to befriend Negan to overthrow our leader, and Negan spilled his guts - quite literally. I've heard of other incidents. The Saviors leaving a near-indestructible vehicle blasting music at full volume inside the open gates at Hilltop. It drew an admittedly impressive herd of walkers before it could be disabled. His hot iron punishments here at the Sanctuary.”

 “Hot iron punishments?”

 “Reference the scarring on Dwight’s face, if Negan wants to call someone out for breaking the rules, they get a hot iron to the face. You missed the last one while you were at the outpost. Apart from that, there was the wiping out of the entire male population of a village near-"

 "Oceanside?"

 Eugene was silent for a moment before he responded.

 "Yes, ma'am, I do believe that was their title. May I ask you something personal?"

 You regarded the pitiful man with suspicion, then nodded your head.

 "Did everyone in your camp deserve to die?"

 His question caught you off guard, and for a split second your mind flashed back to the dark shed and the chains rattling against the door. You closed your eyes, forcing yourself to leave the memory behind and focus on the few minutes you had remaining with the Alexandrian.

 "A few of them did... well, at least one of them for sure... but there were some good people there."

 "How many of Negan's men did you kill, and how many of yours did he kill?"

 You furrowed your brow, trying to recall a time you had tried so desperately to forget.

 "I don't know," you muttered, shrugging your shoulders with uncertainty. "I don't think we killed any... he probably killed about twenty? Maybe twenty-five?"

 For the first time since you entered the cell, the Alexandrian locked his eyes to yours with an unnerving intensity and spoke with conviction.

 "Alexandria has killed more than our fair share of Negan's men, there is no denying that. However, I do believe that fact is purely because we are the only ones who have had the true means to fight back and win in some way. The numbers weigh heavily in our favor if you only consider our community... but with consideration of the big picture, Negan has hardly suffered the greater loss."

 The resulting silence felt deafening as Eugene’s words hung in your ears. You tried unsuccessfully to shake off the feeling that maybe you hadn’t been able to see full truth since joining Negan at the Sanctuary. Before your mind could question anything further, you snatched the half-empty water bottle from Eugene’s hands and stood up, turning towards the door.

 “Does Negan treat you well?”

 The Alexandrian’s question caused you to pause, thoughts racing through your head.

 Of course he does… he saved me, fed me, clothed me, gave me a place and a purpose in life… he’s cared for me, held me, loved me…

 “Yes,” you replied confidently. You could hear Eugene grunt in pain as he readjusted his position on the concrete floor before speaking sadly.

 “I hope for your sake it stays that way. He used to treat me well, too.”

 You had heard enough. You twisted the knob of the door and wrenched it open, stepping out into the hallway and pulling it shut behind you, once again plunging the Alexandrian into darkness. You stood there for a moment, listening to the sound of your own breathing before regarding the set of keys in your hand and remembering Joey’s words.

 “…the other guy’s in Room 2…”

 Despite every logical bone in your body telling you to leave, you peeked around the corner to see that Joey had moved his chair to the doorway of a nearby residential room and turned the TV on to play reruns of an old 90s sitcom. Fairly certain he wouldn’t miss the keys for another few minutes, you ran silently down the hall and jammed the key into the lock of Room 2. Shoving the heavy door open with your shoulder, you immediately gagged and turned away, taking a few moments to regain your composure before turning back to the horrible sight before you.

 The man named Daryl was laying naked in the fetal position in the corner, his back facing you. The stench of feces and urine was overpowering, and you observed a nearly full bucket in the opposite corner. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from his body, unsure if his constant shaking was due to pain or to cold… or fear. Dark purple bruises marred his body, along with both scars and deep, fresh cuts. His skin was caked with dried blood and dirt, and the floor of the cell was covered in the same. It was obvious he had been whipped and beaten repeatedly – and recently. Your chest felt tight and a lump gathered in your throat as you observed blatant evidence of Negan’s rage.

 “Daryl?”

 His body jerked at the sound of your whisper, and he turned his head slightly towards you without saying a word. You quickly shut the door and clicked on your flashlight again, kneeling at Daryl’s side and whispering to him again.

 “Negan doesn’t know I’m here… sit up, I have water… please, I don’t have much time.”

 Daryl slowly pushed himself into a sitting position, still huddled against the wall in fear. With his hands now visible, you could see deep cuts and heavy scars around his wrists, the obvious results of being restrained for long periods of time. It reminded you of your own wrists after Negan rescued you from Wesley. Setting the flashlight on the floor, you twisted the cap off the water bottle and brought it to his lips. His bloodshot eyes regarded you with fear for a moment before he brought his head forward and gulped down the water with desperation. A few drops trickled down his chin as the bottle was emptied, and he dipped his chin in gratitude. You couldn’t hold back the questions any longer.

 “Why is he doing this to you?”

 Daryl remained silent, eyes fixated on the floor as his body continued to tremble. You tried again, softer and with a more pleading tone.

 “What happened? Please, Daryl… I’m trying to understand.”

 Still refusing to look at you, his trembling lips parted and he finally spoke, his voice low and hoarse.

 “I hit him. Maggie ok?”

 This is his punishment just for taking a swing at Negan?

 You took a deep breath and hesitated before responding.

 “Mostly, yeah… the baby is fine. She’s fine. They… they haven’t been feeding her real well since the fire. She’s guarded all the time though, I can’t do anything about it.”

 Daryl’s eyebrows furrowed and he brought his reddened eyes up to lock with yours.

 “What fire?”

 “Eugene and Dwight rigged one of our new outposts to burn… it was supposed to kill Negan, but the plan got thrown off. Eugene tried to call it off but Dwight did it anyway. It killed a bunch of us… I thought it killed my best friend. Would’ve killed me too if she hadn’t helped me escape.”

 His eyes flashed with anger at the mention of Dwight’s name, and you could see his jaw clenching.

 “That sonuva bitch still alive?”

 “Dwight? No… we found out it was him and he tried to attack Negan… tried to attack me… my friend killed him. He’s dead. Negan had him thrown out to the walkers.”

 Daryl’s eyes returned to the floor as he nodded with silent acknowledgement. Knowing you had just mere moments left with him, you inhaled deeply and asked your last question.

 “Why does Negan need to die?”

 You could see Daryl’s jaw repeatedly clenching again, and he finally turned his head to you, a deep fire burning within his bloodshot eyes.

 “It’s gotta stop. We’re tired of dyin’… and we’re tired of killin’ people. We don’t wanna do it no more.”

 Upon hearing distant voices, you grabbed your flashlight and ran to the door, pulling it open and whispering as you left.

 “I’m sorry for what he’s done to you.”

 Daryl called out angrily just before the door latched shut.

 “If you’re sorry then do somethin’ about it!”

 Your ears seemed to be ringing as you hurried down the hall to where Joey had been, and upon turning the corner you found him exactly as you last saw him. Sauntering up with an air of confidence, you dropped the keys into his lap and snapped, “Keep the smart one in line. Wouldn’t stop talking my ear off with all sorts of conspiracy bullshit. He might be losing it.” Joey nodded hurriedly as you marched off down the hall, not realizing you were holding your breath until you reached the stairs and finally exhaled. Tossing the empty water bottle in the trash can of a nearby room, you headed up the stairs and out into the open yard.

 You couldn’t help but notice the pool of blood that had seeped into the dirt where Dwight had been before, illuminated by the light of the full moon hanging overhead. You felt a wave of satisfaction that he had been killed, but you couldn’t fight back the rest of the conflicting thoughts swirling in your head. You walked across the yard, stopping just a few feet from the fence, listening to the snarling of the walkers and watching them twist their necks and claw the air in a morbid and timeless dance. You heard the thudding of boots approaching behind you, but kept your gaze forward.

 “What’s keeping you up, sweetheart?”

 The low rumble of Negan’s voice was both comforting and unnerving. You shrugged and sighed deeply, trying to sort through your racing thoughts.

 “Just wondering what’s next.”

 Negan chuckled and draped his arm around your shoulders, pulling you close and kissing the top of your head gently.

 “Revenge, darling. In a few days we’ll be heading to Alexandria, and we’ll teach them a lesson they’ll never be able to forget.”

 You lifted your head to look at Negan and forced a smile as you tried to make your question appear eager instead of conflicted.

 “How are we going to teach them? Please… don’t spare any details. I want to know exactly how we’re going to make them suffer.”

 Negan laughed again and threw you a surprised look.

 “Well, babygirl, I must admit… your enthusiasm is hot as fuck. My dick’s getting hard just hearing you talk like that. Then again, it does tend to be very hard in general whenever I’m around you. But I digress… we’ll be taking all three of our lovely Alexandrians with us, and they’re going to help us with a little… ‘demonstration.’”

 His dark smile made you nervous, but the lust and dominance in his voice sent chills through your entire body. You could feel unexpected warmth beginning to pool between your legs. Forcing yourself to focus, you pushed past his seductive words to address the issue at hand.

 “Let me help.”

 Negan regarded you with both surprise and pride, pausing for a moment to consider your request.

 “And exactly how would you like to help?”

 “You’re going to hurt them… that much I know for sure. I want to help… I want to hurt them too. At least let me have a go at Eugene… he’s the reason Jovana is hurt, he’s the reason so many people are dead. Give me some sort of chance to make things even.”

 Negan was silent for another moment before he slowly nodded his head and grinned.

 “Fair enough… it’s hard to say no to you, doll. Tell me what you want to do.”

 You chewed on your bottom lip for a moment in contemplation.

 “I just need a knife, a gun, and two or three bullets. I’ll manage to have some fun with that.”

 Negan chuckled once again, grasping your hand and turning you to face him.

 “As you wish, sweetheart. I know you’ll make me proud. What do you say about spending a little time together tonight? You know you can say no.”

 The fluttering of your heart and the sparks of excitement all over your body gave away your desires. You blushed deeply and tipped your head up to his, tugging at his bottom lip with your teeth and drawing him into a deep kiss. He moaned and pulled you close, his hands traveling down your back to grip your ass before giving it a playfully hard smack.

 “I want you to take me completely,” you whispered breathlessly between kisses. Negan froze and pulled away from you, eyeing you with uncertainty.

 “I told you before, I don’t want you to do it before you’re ready. I can wait as long as it takes, sweetheart, we don’t have-“

 “I’m ready and I want it now,” you interrupted, gripping his jacket tightly with both hands and smashing your lips against his with urgency.

 “Fuck, baby…” he gasped eagerly. “You don’t have to fucking tell me twice.”

 He picked you up, forcing you to wrap your legs around his waist, and walked quickly to the residential building, nipping at your neck and ear the whole way. You tried to contain your noises of pleasure, but it was impossible. You were completely overcome with passion and desire. When you finally reached his room, he fumbled hurriedly with the door handle, eventually throwing the door open and immediately slamming it shut behind you. Your heart was pounding against your chest and you could feel wetness nearly pouring out of you in anticipation.

 Negan tossed you passionately onto his bed, immediately climbing on top of you. He braced himself with his hands next to your shoulders, your tongues dancing together as he began to grind his growing erection against you. Quiet moans escaped you as his lips traveled along your jaw to your neck, sucking and nibbling deep love marks along your collarbone. You frantically reached for the bottom of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head in one ragged motion. Negan paused for a moment, staring in awe at your exposed stomach and bra. You only felt self-conscious for half a second before he whispered breathlessly.

 “My god… you’re fucking perfect, every goddamn inch of you is fucking incredible.”

 He dipped his head down, trailing his tongue across your stomach as he reached behind your back and released the hooks of your bra. His breath hitched in his throat as your breasts became exposed. Groaning heavily with desire, he sat up to pull his own shirt over his head and unzip his pants before fumbling with the zipper on your jeans, hooking his fingers in the beltloops and tugging them down over your hips. The combination of the cold air hitting your legs and the feeling of his obvious erection pressing against you sent goosebumps across your skin.

 “Take me, Negan…” you whispered desperately. “Take me now.”

 He rolled onto his back next to you in order to tug his pants and boxers off, his firm cock immediately springing forth. He turned his head to lock eyes with you, his chest heaving with gasping breaths.

 “All you do is say ‘stop’ and it’s done – it won’t go on a second longer. You have to fucking promise me, baby… I need to be able to trust you. Tell me if you don’t want it anymore.”

 As you crawled on top of him and positioned yourself above his cock, you leaned down to whisper tenderly against his ear.

 “I promise.”

 You gripped his rock-hard member with your hand and lined it up with your dripping entrance, the room absolutely silent as you hovered at the breaking point, both of you holding your breath in anticipation before Negan whispered.

 “Only if you’re ready.”

 You dropped yourself onto his cock and cried out with a loud voice, your walls stretching to accommodate his size. You pulled in gasping breaths as Negan swore through deep moans of pleasure.

 “Oh my fucking god… holy fuck, baby… do whatever the hell you want, you feel so fucking amazing…”

 As you continued to ease yourself down, his length pushing deeper and deeper inside of you, you began to slowly rock and swivel your hips. You had never heard such passionate and desperate noises come out of Negan, and both of your moans and shouts echoed against the walls of the room – and no doubt the walls of the hallway outside as well. Neither of you could be bothered to care though, and Negan’s hands slowly made their way from your ass, to your hips, to your clit. He slid his thumb against your wetness before dragging slow, clockwise circles around your swollen bud. The combination of his cock pushing deep inside you and his thumb on your clit caused you to start trembling uncontrollably.

 “That feel ok, baby?”

 “Fuck, god, yes,” you gasped breathlessly, leaning forward to plant your palms on his chest for balance. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from his lust-filled gaze. He began to lift his hips rhythmically below you, forcing his pulsing cock even deeper inside you and consequently forcing passionate moans from your lips.

 “Negan, please…” you stammered desperately.

 “Just say the word and I can stop,” he whispered through ragged breaths.

 “God no… please don’t stop. Negan… jesus fuck, don’t- goddamnit, don’t fucking stop. Holy fuck… shit… Negan, you’re gonna make-…”

 You couldn’t even finish your sentence before your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave and rushed over you, throwing sparks of electricity and mind-numbing pleasure throughout your entire body. Your hoarse screams echoed against the walls and Negan gripped your hips tightly with both hands, pushing and pulling you against his cock erratically as he groaned through clenched teeth.

 “Honey… goddamn…”

 He lifted you up and tossed you onto your back in one swift motion before straddling you and pumping his throbbing member frantically with his hand. Your screams paled in comparison to his primal roar of release as hot cum poured out of him, painting your stomach with blatant evidence of his climax. In an instant, the room was filled with nothing but the sound of your heaving breaths. Beads of sweat fell from Negan’s forehead, mingling with your own sweat already gathered on your stomach. He continued to straddle you for nearly a full minute, delicately holding his sensitive and softening member in his hand, eyes closed and chin lifted towards the ceiling.

 You hardly felt him crawl off the bed, his feet softly thudding against the floor as he made his way to the bathroom to retrieve a towel for you. The rush of adrenaline slowed, leaving you in a near-numb state of euphoria with eyelids that refused to stay open. Negan gently wiped his release from your stomach with the damp towel before wiping himself off as well. He collapsed onto the bed next to you, his hand finding yours and gripping it tight.

 “Baby, I need to talk to you about something.”

 “I’m not ready to be a wife,” you blurted out, immediately regretting your assumption that a proposal would be a part of the conversation. “I mean… every single second of this was amazing, I just don’t know if I can handle-…”

 “I love you.”

 Your entire body froze as the words spilled from his mouth. The room became uncomfortably silent and you eventually turned your head to make out the silhouette of Negan’s face staring up at the ceiling. He finally rolled onto his side to face you, tenderly stroking the back of your hand with his thumb as he pulled in a deep breath.

 “Before the fire, I… I wasn’t sure about it until your call came through on the radio for help, and all of a sudden I didn’t care if every other fucking person there was gone already, I needed you to be alive. I’d always imagined you’d be with me until we’re both old and wrinkled as fuck… I thought about that while we were driving over there, that I wanted you to be around for a damn long time and I knew if I lost you that day, it would destroy me. Life in this shitty world would suck ass without you… and I figured that has to be love, right? When just fucking thinking about living without someone makes you hurt?”

 You tried to formulate a proper sentence, even just a few words, but your mind was both blank and racing at the same time. Everything you had learned about Negan came crashing down on you, clashing with all of your feelings towards him… clashing with all the words coming out of his mouth. You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t notice Negan looking at you expectantly.

 “Sweetheart…?”

 “I didn’t have any flashbacks this time...” you stated emotionlessly. “I didn’t have any thoughts… about him… just you. You got rid of him, you…”

 “I didn’t do anything, baby,” he interrupted, pushing your hair off of your face with a gentle hand. “You’re the strong one, you’ve gotten rid of him all on your own. I mean… shit, I’m sorry… it’s just, I haven’t said those words to anyone since… for a long time. And I mean them.”

 Your ears were ringing, the weight of his words falling heavy upon you. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block out the images of Daryl and Eugene’s bruised and beaten bodies, of Maggie’s gaunt appearance, of Negan walking down a line of kneeling young men and shooting them at point-blank range. You could feel yourself beginning to hyperventilate as your mind tried to rectify the haunting images with the tenderness of the man currently professing his love for you.

 “Look, baby, I’m sorry I brought it up, I-…”

 “I think I love you too,” you blurted out, forcing your eyes open to lock your gaze with his. His initial look of surprise was quickly replaced by an amused grin and a soft chuckle.

 “Thank god, because this was about to get really fucking awkward.”

 You giggled before rolling over and sitting on the edge of the bed. Negan crawled behind you, tenderly massaging your shoulders while placing delicate kisses across the back of your neck. Moaning gratefully, you stretched your shoulders before standing and beginning the search for your clothes.

 “You know you can spend the night here, sweetheart, I’m not kicking you out…”

 “I know,” you sighed, “But I need to get back and check on Jovana. She hasn’t been sleeping very much and I don’t want her to have to be alone.”

 “But you’re ok with me being alone, I fucking see how it is…”

 You glanced back at Negan to see him grinning mischievously and running his tongue across his bottom lip. You couldn’t help but smile as you walked back to him, running your fingers through his hair and studying his handsome features.

 “The thought of living without you hurts me, too,” you whispered, dropping a soft kiss to his forehead and tasting the saltiness of his drying sweat on your lips. “And that’s how I know it’s love.”

 Negan planted a deep kiss on the back of your hand before smiling up at you.

 “Go get some rest, sweetheart… tomorrow we’re going to Alexandria.”

 -

 Your emotions hit you full-force on your walk back to your room. Tears poured relentlessly from your burning eyes as you tried to sort through your thoughts.

 I actually love him. Shit, shit, shit… everything is complicated now…

 Your bootsteps rang out on the metal stairs leading up to the fourth floor.

 But do I actually love him if I don’t love all of him? His gentle side is easy to love, but… how can I bring myself to love his brutal side too?

 Finally pushing your room door open with exhaustion, you saw Jovana gingerly sit up in bed and regard you with concern. You wiped the tears from your cheeks with the palm of your hand as Jovana motioned to her own cheek.

 Why are you crying?

 You couldn’t help but surrender to your emotions as you collapsed onto Jovana’s bed next to her, burying your face in her shoulder and letting ragged sobs pour forth as she wrapped her arms around you.

 “I can’t do it, but I know I have to… I have to do it, it’s the only way…” you cried against her, knowing she wouldn’t hear the words. It was more of a confession to yourself than anything else. Jovana finally reached for the nearby paper and pens and set the notebook on your lap.

 What happened?

 I slept with Negan.

 Did he hurt you??

 No no no… he said he loves me.

 Holy shit. Is that a good thing?

 Yes and no… I realized I love him too, but it doesn’t make it any easier.

 Doesn’t make what easier?

 I found out why everyone wants Negan dead.

 Jovana froze and looked at you, her brow deeply furrowed with concern. After a few moments of hesitation, she finally reached out to write.

 Why?

 Your tears flowed in rivers down your cheeks as you told her everything – how he was treating all the Alexandrians here, the people he had killed back at Alexandria, the dozens of men and boys he had murdered at Oceanside and your old camp, the iron punishments he carried out here at the Sanctuary. As you wrote, Jovana’s face became deeply etched with sadness and confliction. When you finished, she swallowed hard before responding.

 So now what? What do we do?

 Your hand trembled violently as your brought the tip of the pen to the paper, the room beginning to blur and spin around you as you admitted what you had been trying to deny for days.

 We have to end it.

 I have to kill Negan.

Previous Chapter

Fuck. Now do you see why this chapter has taken me so long to write?? Typing that last line was so painful.

Tagging those who have requested to be and those who have inspired me to write. If you would like to be added OR removed, just shoot me a message. Love you all more than you can possibly fathom. Tumblr is sucking ass with tags today so I’m hoping these work....

@livetoseetheworld  @theonethatgotaway213   @thefelinemedia78  @genevievedarcygranger  @genevievedarcygrangerwriting  @ali-pennell  @blumenkind72  @jmackie1983  @jenn0755  @beltz2016  @ibelongtonegan  @xandythelazyunicorn  @negans-network  @negans-dirty-girl  @flames-bring-a-ton-of-ash  @ladylorelitany  @wickednerdery  @vizhi0n  @death2thevirgin  @autumnjade22  @womderland-fandom @thedeadwalks  @monicapernas  @my-achilles--heel @ericuhlorain  @marvelmaximoff  @hellainternet  @totallysupernaturaloneshots @alisajo5576  @isayweallgetdrunk @babystarwitch  @jasoncrouse  @wadeyourebarelyalive  @negan--is--god @small-town-wayward-daughter  @malmaldude  @haleyea  @ohmyneganimagination-twd  @ilovemistahj  @kerij77  @evansrogerskitten  @clinicalkayla @odetteviolet  @deepsouth @miiraal  @negandarylsatisfaction  @prettyepiic  @baked-potatoes  @you-just-got-jacknifed @jessie-cake1994-blog  @batjoker12  @riisten  @jdmfanfiction  @nothin-after-79  @neganfictions  @blondielovesr5-blog  @magical-spit  @warriorqueen1991  @court666  @opportunisticlullaby @almostinwonderland  @harry-titss  @cass-xxo @kazosa @jackythemoo @missnegandixon @mwesterfeld1985 @kaitlynnratliff02 @londoncapsule @i-am-negan-trash @kellyn1604 @alyisdead @stress-and-obsess  @collette04  @elinyaes @toomuchpaintocome @badsongwinchester @neganswinchesters

#long-awaited savior #long awaited savior #negan x reader #negan fanfiction #negan slow burn #negan multichapter fic #negans-network #backseat-negan

[thedouchebrigadesympathizer]

Hey ! It's that villain anon, my apology for not articulating my words correctly ! I'd been thinking a villain with just the default Stain ideals that didn't believe in harming children (cause even as a villain, who would hurt a child ??)

You didnt tell me who you’d wanna have the reader attack, so i chose Tomura. *finger guns* its cool Anon, i get what ya mean. Also, anyone in the league is cool with child murder its a fact. Maybe not so much Spinner, but everyone else is pretty much on board for some child murder, FUN TIMES.

You saw it from across the line of battle, beyond the heads of students who were fighting with everything they had to defend themselves and their school, you saw it. The fire in his eyes. Who he was fighting, you hadn’t been sure, but one swift upper cut of your fist and the young hero you had been fighting went limp- falling to the loose gravel and dirt poking out of blood splattered grass. They had fought hard, and sadly lost against you despite their efforts.

They would be alright, you knew this, just a few minor fractures or maybe a concussion, and in the end your opponent would be fine.

But the child challenging Tomura Shigaraki would not.

The student was one you had recognized many times before, with wild emerald locks and a constellation of freckles. He was fit, and one would have assumed he could have taken Tomura easy if it wasn’t for the older man’s quirk. He had even knocked the mask your leader wore clean off his face, and it sat forgotten in the rubble of the chaos surrounding everyone.

Tomura kept lunging, while the green haired boy kept meeting him head on. They parryed and met in a cloud of undeniable power, oh so close to abusing the life out of each other.

You were a villain. It was expected that there would be casualties from the students sides, but you had prayed they would have been accidents. But this, this battle you were witnessing as you barreled through the line to fire, this was intentional. This was a personal attack for Tomura Shigaraki, and this child would not walk away from this fight alive- unless you did something that is.

You danced from others as they struggled to attempt to engage you in another battle, the students of UA desperate to fight back with everything they had. Still, your evasions were easy and you were closing in to Tomura and the student, mind racing.

What were you going to do? You didn’t know. What was going to happen later? Did it matter? The child was innocent. He didn’t understand, he was unaware of the outcome to come, and despite your beliefs, you knew the wavy haired boy did not deserve the ruthless death was would receive at the hand of Tomura.

You were closer now, closer than you should have dared to be, practically flying across the battlefield. You could hear them shouting, the taunting calls from the pale haired man you called your leader, the cries of frustration from the young UA student.

The boy launched himself, thinking he caught Tomura with his guard down, only to have Tomura rip his arm to the side and send an invisible wave of power from the students hand out that ruptured the ground and sent the earth splintering in all directions. With lightning speed, the boys throat was captured between four fingers and his body was thrown into the air, held by a tight grip. Tomura watched as scarred hands came to grab his wrist, his own scarlet hues narrowing in satisfaction.

“Midoriya, I will certainly enjoy this!” Tomura gloated, throwing a hand back and tossing it back down to the boy, Midoriya’s, horrified face.

Or, he would have, if you hadn’t dived in and ripped Tomura’s lean form back, causing his hand to only hit the air. You drove your weight into him, catching his startled expression right before you spun out of control. The two of you went flying, spiraling far away from Midoriya, who fell uselessly to the ground and gulped greedy breaths of air.

You felt blunt nails claw at your throat, but ducked quickly from a deadly grip and heard the roar of rage beneath you.

“[Last Name!]” Your leader vibrated with a fire you couldn’t begin to explain, fear shooting through her body and heart beating erratically.

You struggled to hold him down, words and reasons caught for now behind your terrified mask. Tomura screaming obscenities and throwing his weight around in attempt to toss you off.

“You’re dead! You’re fucking dead! I’ll turn you to dust you stupid bastard!”

You straddled his chest, pinning his hands to the ground and screamed back at him, with the same amount of animosity.

“He is a child! A child Tomura Shigaraki!”

Tomura threw his head back, arching his back, kicked his legs. He made every attempt to escape your hold and expelled his fury, pupils near slits and practically foaming at the mouth. You shot a look over your shoulder, finding the Midoriya boy to be attempting to rise, your eyes widening.

“Don’t!” you warned, whipping your head back around to Tomura as his knee connected painfully with your spin, his obnoxiously long legs becoming just as much of a problem as his deadly touch. His fingers flexed, itching to shove themselves across your face and turn you to dust.

“Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare fucking leave this battle, Izuku Midoriya!” Tomura shrieked, finally gaining the attention you had hoped he wouldn’t from your comrades.

“Run!” You shouted over Tomura’s rant. “Run, Izuku Midoriya!”

You couldn’t be sure he took your advice, your attention focused on subduing the man under you, and the warp gate that flickered a dark violet that appeared at your side.

You felt the ghost of a grip on your waist, which dragged you off the ranting mad man, and dropped you through the warp gate.

You fell in a eerily familiar place, the bar of The League.

You had been expelled from the mission.

You were in trouble.

In fact, you thought, settling on your knees and rubbing anxiously at your chest.

You were dead.

Dull thuds of footfalls were heard as another portal opened, Dabi appearing, followed closely by Spinner. Each of them look like they had seen hell, covered in ash, blood and dirt. Normally they would be grinning, two boys who loved to battle such as they did, but at that moment, they wore somber looks.

“He wants us to kill you.” Dabi said, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “You fucked up his chance to finally kill that Izuku kid.”

Spinner dropped to the ground beside you, kneeling and searching your eyes. “What the fuck do you do that for? Do you know what you just fucking did?”

You looked between them before rubbing at your jaw,  shaking your head. “Stain. Stain wouldn’t want Izuku to die. No one innocent like those students either.”

“You fucked up, [First Name].” Dabi muttered, scratching at his temple before nodding to the door with a tight frown. “Run.”

You straightened yourself, brows furrowing. “I’m not going to run.”

“Run.” Spinner mirrored Dabi’s words. “We’ll tell Shigaraki you were already gone.”

“I’m not going to run-”

“Then walk.” Spinner grabbed under your arms, hauling you up and shoving you at the door. “But get outta here.”

You stumbled, catching yourself on the bar counter and snapping you head to the boys. “I-”

“Go.” Dabi insisted, pointing to the exit. “This is your last fucking chance. I mean it. You were our comrade once. I don’t want to kill a fellow Stain Idealist, neither does Spinner. So get the fuck out of here, and don’t look back.”

You struggled to find an argument, but their eyes were screaming for you to listen, pleading with you to escape. So, with one last look to them both, you fled.

It wasn’t until you flew outside the front door that you heard a familiar roar of anger, and Tomura’s voice could be heard, shouting your name for all the neighbourhood to hear.

Did he follow you? No.

Did you almost hope he would, if just so you could finish what you started? Yes.

#finally fucking finsihed this #oh my god i feel like a god damn champion even if this is shitty #ahhhhhhhhhh #tomura #dabi #spinner

[22drunkb]

“Person of Interest” recap (4.10): The Cold War

Forgive me if I (re)posted this before: I’ve lost track of when I reposted what, so I’m just starting from here (without the pics and gifs).

Hi, everyone! I’m so sorry that this is so late; either the internet or my own finals-induced nuttiness (grad school does things to a person) caused me to think that Person of Interest wasn’t coming back till January. I WAS SO WRONG. Here, then, are my thoughts on the episode of 12/16 (“Cold War”), plus some thoughts on the previous one. I promise the next writeup will be faster!

So obviously, a lot happened in “Cold War,” but let’s focus on what’s really important for now. And what’s really important is Root pointing out that no one can keep Shaw captive unless she wants to be kept, and Shaw demonstrating that of course that’s true and she’s just been being polite; or, hey, Root going into danger and Shaw being VERY UPSET about that choice (“that sounds like someone who needs backup!” she says, because her nerves about Root’s situation aren’t suggestive at all).

Basically, this was one of those episodes that isn’t about our favorite duo but still gave us plenty to work with. Before getting into it, let me note a few things from the previous episode, since I didn’t get to post properly about it:

OBVIOUSLY THAT PART WHERE Root was trying to protect Shaw and Shaw not only was having none of it but resorted to blatant flirting to try to get around this obstacle. Look, you can try to make this about how Shaw is yet another straight girl working the odds (you can try, but I’ll fight you and you’ll regret it), but all this tells me is that Shaw KNOWS how Root feels about her and has resoundingly not rejected it up to this point. OUR SHIP SAILS ON.

Also let us consider just…the way…their bodies move…when Root drugs Shaw for her own good (don’t try this at home kids!! I only approve of this in very specific cyberpunk circumstances!!!) and kneels down to catch her:

DO YOU HAVE FEELINGS ABOUT THIS, BECAUSE I DO?

Also there was loads of Root shepherding Shaw around all concerned and handsy, and also this business when they were hiding inside the truck.

/happy sigh

ANYWAY. So here we are, this week of all weeks, but a week later, because shhhhhh, we are here now and that is the important thing. It is clear that Root is PAINFULLY in love with Shaw, and that Shaw knows what is going on and chooses not to ruin it; like, even with the most cynical “she’s using her” interpretation possible, there is no way to pretend that both parties don’t understand what’s happening here.

BUT! Happily, the cynical interpretation wilts like a rose petal in the summer heat, because here we are in “Cold War” and Shaw, after insisting the only being she cares about is the dog, is running around the Subway Lair (TM) in order to go to Root’s rescue.

Sure, she doesn’t actually do it—I choose to believe partly because she knows Root wouldn’t want her to—but the point is, Harold is lecturing her on why Root will be fine and she is running around picking up guns explaining why Root will definitely not be fine without backup!!! BY WHICH I MEAN ME!!!!!

image: http://cdn1-www.afterellen.com/assets/uploads/2014/12/poi-4.gif

To back up (har har) for a second: Root is on her way to act as the Machine’s avatar in a conference with Samaritan, the other AI/god—which, we should note, is  unassailably cool on its own, just as a fact. (For the record, Samaritan totally should have been represented by Claire Mahoney, the very obvious “there but for the grace of god” Root parallel from the second episode of this season, instead of a small boy; but I suppose every rose has its thorn.) So Root is off being an amazing badass by doing nothing but hanging out with a kid while he colors so that two “artificial super-intelligences” can verbally throw down the gauntlet, essentially, and Shaw has decided that this means not only that Root needs backup, and not only that that backup should be her, but that it is worth showing her face to surveillance cameras with the consequence of near-certain death to provide that backup. SHAW IS LITERALLY READY TO DIE FOR ROOT HERE, I AM JUST. SAYING.

We also had some delicious moments earlier in the episode. Let’s talk about Harold walking into the Subway Lair to find Shaw handcuffed and Root in a bear suit and immediately being uncomfortable and almost leaving. WHAT IS HE ASSUMING IS GOING ON, HMM?

Let’s also talk about innuendo, our best friend. Shaw is understandably pissed at Root for tricking and drugging her in the previous episode, even if it was for her own safety. She is handcuffed to a railing to keep her from going outside and getting herself killed. She asks how long they’re going to keep her like that, and Root purrs at her about how it’s impossible to keep her locked up—at least against her will. The subtext here is H E A V Y, since Root has a longstanding habit of making BDSM insinuations to Shaw. (Which have been reciprocated at least once; never forget that first conversation.)

So Shaw demonstrates that she had already freed herself and was just pretending to be locked up, which, sure, we can interpret as strategic, but why would we do that when we can interpret it as her NOT WANTING TO HURT ANYONE’S FEELINGS. (Root. I am talking about Root.) “So true,” she snarls, leaning into Root’s space while Root serves her trademark hearteyes. (I couldn’t find a gif of this particular moment, but if you would like a reminder of what Root’s “I’m so in love with you I can’t really think straight at this moment” face looks like I recommend this post right here.)

PLEASE JUST MAKE OUT ALREADY. HAROLD CAN GIVE YOU SOME SPACE, HE IS FINE WITH THAT. HAROLD SHIPS IT AS MUCH AS I DO. (“If the worst comes to pass, would you tell Sameen— I think she already knows [because you are as obvious as a fucking sledgehammer].” HAROLD GETS IT.)

image: http://cdn3-www.afterellen.com/assets/uploads/2014/12/poi-coldwar.png

Let us also consider the time-honored tradition of Shaw ripping into food like she caught and killed it herself—one of my favorite things about her—and the beautiful innovation in this instance of Root helping her (handcuffed, remember) and saying “two hands are better than one.” FOR MANY PURPOSES, OF COURSE. OH ROOT YOU CHARMER.

Beyond these truly incredible moments of ~lurve, the episode actually gives us some nice character work with each woman and their relationship, as Root defends the Machine as moral and benevolent (and therefore deserving of loyalty) while Shaw very literally plays devil’s advocate, suggesting that Samaritan’s good works should get due credit even if they were only to prove a point. Essentially Shaw spends the episode arguing that maybe letting Samaritan rule the world and thus avoiding AI conflict (or what Harold calls “when two gods go to war,” echoing Root’s use of the phrase in earlier episodes) wouldn’t be so bad, really. The AIs are here, there’s no going back, and as she points out, she used to execute people based on an AI’s evaluation all the time; she just didn’t know that was what she was doing. Root, on the other hand, sees Samaritan’s dominance and the Machine’s defeat as the worst of all possible worlds. The Machine is her god in a far more literal way than for any other character. Losing Her would destroy her world on a level that simply isn’t true for anyone else. (Interesting to note that Root also referred to Samaritan as She, isn’t it? I like the idea that for Root all the AI gods are female. Many fans tend to assume for no clear reason that Samaritan is male, which I guess the show has now reinforced, but Root has no time for this idea. )

Placing #2SAM2FURIOUS on opposite sides here is fun because it gives us nice banter and some soda-stealing, but it does more than that. It shows us a great deal about how they are different, how their worldviews are different. It gives us some of the wonderful philosophizing the show is so prone to, with Shaw arguing for letting the strongest win in the name of order, Root arguing for the moral superiority of the Machine, and Harold arguing that dominance by any AI is a nightmare that must be prevented. It’s especially nice to see Root and Shaw be the avatars (so to speak) of the debate in a central way, since usually these arguments center on Root and Harold, or Harold and John. It’s a good change to let Shaw advance a point of view here instead of just being the muscle and comic relief.  It’s also a natural consequence of her deepening relationship with Root. There is no way to have the former Samantha Groves in your life and not end up with a philosophical point of view on AIs and their role, because that is literally what she is about. If you care about Root, you care about the shape of the future that is being born, and for Shaw not to have a major voice in this debate would have been insulting to her intelligence.

All in all, this was a great episode on many levels—it moved the story forward, let us hear directly from Samaritan for the first time, featured Root in a bear suit (let us not forget that Shaw’s beloved dog is named Bear!! Real subtle, Root) and Shaw ripping open a paper bag with her teeth—but it was excellent when it comes to this relationship, too. It played with subtext, but also showed Root and Shaw expressing real concern for one another and engaging in substantive debate about the issues that are most important to them. This is one reason I have never seen this relationship as queerbaiting: while there is plenty of what some people like to call “fanservice,” there is also a real, living relationship with depth and nuance and development over time. There are stakes between these two women. There is no way to deny it, and this episode continued to lean into it.

Read more at http://www.afterellen.com/tv/405857-person-interest-recap-4-10-cold-war#Z5KzVUTXBPYKcX10.99

#person of interest #recap repost #shaw x root