#so the evidence was piling up but there was nothing absolutely conclusive so it was driving me bonkers | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

boytoyhalo · 4 months

Note

Can we have more of the selkie au please?

are there fantasy books in the lighthouse? Did they see seal!Pac after the coat incident? Is Fit hunting an imaginary poachers on the island?

you absolutely can!!

They don't see Pac - human or seal - for a few days after the incident. During those few days, Fit very much notices the absence of his usual evening journaling buddy, and he's very much not happy about it. He scours the island in his free time looking for traces of whatever poacher is squatting there, but he can't find anything. He also notices Pac's absence, and by the 3rd day he's starting to come to an uncomfortable conclusion: the only logical explanation he can think of for his strange behavior, and the lack or evidence for any other people on the island, is that Pac must be the poacher he's looking for. He doesn't want to believe it, because Pac is so nice and he's always seemed to really like the seals (maybe even more so than him or Ramon) when they've been around them together, but he just doesn't know what else it could possibly be. Then right as he's resigned himself to confronting him about it, and begun to prepare for the ordeal of filing a report against his friend, he finds his furry friend waiting for him on it's usual rocks like nothing happened.

Fit spends a good few minutes just gaping at it, completely frozen - the fucking thing has the gall to look confused, tilting it's head at him like his son wasn't sobbing over it's severed skin just a few days ago. Even after the initial shock passes and he manages to drag himself out of his stupor and onto his own rock, he can't find any words to speak or to write; he just keeps staring at it in complete puzzlement. It stares back at him, it's gaze flicking curiously to the blank page in front of him every so often almost. After what feels like an eternity it huffs and flops over on it's side, seemingly having decided that it would rather nap than continue their stare-off. Fit begins his journal entry in uneasy silence, trying his best to let the scratching of the pencil on the page distract him from the anomaly next to him. Unfortunately, said anomaly doesn't tolerate the cold shoulder for long before snorting offendedly at him.

"What?" Fit raises an eyebrow at it. There's a beat before it snorts again, slapping it's front flippers loudly against the wet rocks. "You- oh, what, you want me to talk to you? Is that it?" It grunts softly. Fit blinks, his mouth opening and closing around words that don't come. "I mean I- I don't really uh. I mean, I'm just kinda speechless right now." And ok, that's an understatement - he feels completely disoriented, his entire world having been flipped on its head. This seal was dead, it had to have been, that was the only possible explanation for the way everything had lined up. Except apparently it wasn't, because the seal was alive and it was looking straight into his eyes with that disturbingly human intelligence shining through its own. As the gears in his head start turning, trying valiantly to come up with something to say, some pieces start to fall into place.

The pelt, Pac's freak-out and subsequent disappearance, the seal acting like someone's lost pet and not a wild predator, Pac having no traceable presence on the island but appearing every day, both of them missing a limb - little dots swimming around in his head, moving too quickly for him to connect, forming a fragment of something that Fit doesn't think he could handle knowing in full. He nearly slips and breaks his neck in his mad scramble off of his perch, startling the seal - or whatever this thing was. He ignores it's concerned cry and backs away slowly, a dizzying dread creeping slowly over him as his attempts to think of any logical explanation for the ever-growing pile of mysteries come up completely empty.

Various half-formed theories run through his mind as he speeds through the short walk back to the cabin: Was the seal Pac's pet? Was it some robotic creation of his? Did he kill it and do some fucked up death magic on it? Was he the seal? Was he a shape shifter, or- or some kind of hypnotist? Had the whole thing just been an illusion? A dream? Was Fit finally going insane?

Yeah, that's gotta be it he thought as he made his way through the door, being sure to close it quietly so as to not wake Ramon. I've finally fucking lost it. There was no way Pac was - whatever it was that Fit's psyche was convinced he was. That seal was a normal, if weirdly friendly seal, and there was a completely rational explanation for everything that Fit was just too dumb to catch onto. Pac was probably just freaked out by the implication of the seal's death, and maybe the pelt had just been an incredibly convincing fake. Yeah, that was it, definitely. Fit pointedly ignored the voices in his head that screamed all of the ways that that didn't make any sense as he stumbled his way through his nightly routine and into bed - it made enough sense that he was fine letting it be not his problem anymore. He was much more interested in getting a good night's sleep than in spiraling into a frenzy over something that probably didn't matter in the slightest

.....Or not. Apparently, whatever part of his brain he didn't have control over greatly overpowered the part that was sane and rational, combined with all of the exhaustion in his body. He sighed as he begrudgingly opened his eyes, staring blankly at the shadows that flickered across his wooden ceiling. He could already tell this was gonna give him hell. He had never been someone who could take it easy, not even before the sounds of gunfire and explosions and the heavy stench of blood-soaked dirt had made themselves a permanent part of his world. This certainly wasn't the first time since that he had questioned his perception of reality; in fact, he was quite familiar with being disconnected from it, the way that it could bend around the most damaged parts of him and twist his mind back into a shape that no longer fit in the present. He sometimes heard gunshots when there was no one to fire them, screaming in his ear while he slept at night - It wasn't far-fetched at all to write this off as the conspiratorial delusions of a soldier taken off the battlefield too late. But, something about it just kept nagging at him, urging him to look deeper even if he couldn't handle it. Finally, after what had to be hours of tossing and turning in his sheets, he fell into an uneasy sleep.

The spiral only pulled at him harder the next morning, as he made his early morning rounds and reports, harder still as he made his way back to the house and made breakfast. By the time he woke up Ramon he was wishing he still had hair on his head just so he could pull it out. His boy, of course, noticed his mood immediately.

"...What? What is it?" Fit asked as the kid stared at him flatly over his scrambled eggs and toast.

"Something is bothering you." Ramon pointed his fork at him. "Tell me." Fit sighed; that was his son, blunt as ever. He briefly contemplated spinning a lie to ease his mind, but wrote it off as soon as he remembered that his baby boy was a genius that, unfortunately, knew him far too well.

"It's nothing, Ramon, don't worry about it. Eat your eggs." Ramon dropped his fork loudly onto the table, not breaking eye contact. He looked unimpressed.

"Fit." There was silence as they stared at each other from across the table, both plates forgotten as they engaged in some sort of psychological battle that Fit felt he had a distinct disadvantage in somehow. After a long few minutes he turned his gaze away with a resigned grunt, knowing from an abundance of experience that there was no use in resisting Ramon's questioning - The kid was determined, and he had a way of getting things out of Fit that he sometimes didn't even want to admit to himself. He swallows a mouthful of his suddenly very bland tasting eggs, trying to think of how to start.

"You wouldn't happen to have any books that talk about seals, would you?" Is what he eventually settles on. Ramon blink at him in confusion, seemingly thrown off by the turn of the conversation. "It's- well, it might be nothing. It's probably nothing, But." He takes a deep breath, admitting to weakness is a difficult task that Fit has always had to push himself greatly to accomplish; he's been trying to work through it for his young boy's sake. "There's just been some stuff happening around here that I can't figure out and that's kinda the only place I can think to start looking, you know what I mean? It's nothing you need to worry about though, I promise." Ramon fiddles with the frayed bauble of his favorite red hat as he hums, thinking.

"I think a couple of the animal encyclopedias that you got me mention them, but nothing too detailed. What's been happening with the seals?" Fit takes another nauseating bite to buy himself time to consider his answer.

"I've just... been thinking about the fur we found," he says carefully, praying that It won't be a sensitive topic. Thankfully, Ramon doesn't seem fazed, only raising his eyebrows a bit as he waits for his father to continue. "I was sure it was from one of those ones that like to hang around here, and we were only seeing five of them for the past few days so I thought - someone must have hunted it, you know? But there's been no one here but us and Richas' parents, and then last night the seal that was missing showed back up and." He cuts off his ramble as he notices the strange look Ramon is giving him. "What? Do you think I'm going crazy or something?"

"Pac said he gave the seal it's skin back, remember?" He says plainly, like it makes complete sense. Fit balks at him, mouth open in disbelief. Ramon had.... Ramon believed that? But he was so smart for a kid his age, he had even called Fit out for pretending it wasn't dead! Had he just.... decided to believe Pac? Was this his way of coping?

"You, uh. What?" He responds eloquently. Ramon looks at him like he's grown a second head, and ok, now Fit is definitely going crazy. Since when does his little boy genius believe that one can simply give a dead animal it's skin back and bring it back to life?

"He gave it back." He draws out every word, as if he's the adult explaining a simple concept to a child. "The seal is fine. Richarlyson said it took Pac on adventures with it to thank him." He sniffs petulantly. "Kinda think he should have invited me, but whatever. It's all ok, see! Just like you said." Fit has no idea what to say, completely lost. This conversation had done nothing but add another layer of headache to the already impressive thorn in his side. He nods slowly, deciding to just let it go for the sake of the little sanity he has left.

"Right, ok. That makes sense, I guess." As far as he's concerned, if Ramon is happy there's no issue. That's what he tells himself at least, and to his credit it is mostly true. Ramon knows better though, and he levels Fit with a look that tells him as much. After a moment he returns his attention to his plate, looking bored with the topic of conversation.

"Richas said Pac is gonna be back to see you today. I'm gonna ask him all about it, you can listen if you want to." Fit startles a bit. Pac was coming back? "And if that doesn't answer your questions, maybe you should try checking all those old journals we found to see if they say anything useful?" Right, the archived journals from previous lighthouse attendants - Fit had completely forgotten about them, locked away as mementos in a storage room at the bottom of the lighthouse itself. He hadn't spared them a thought since he and Ramon had been shown them on their first day on the island. That was as good a place to look as any, he supposed. He makes a mental note to do so later tonight, when he's done with his work for the day.

"Yeah that's a good idea actually, thank you Ramon. You're damn smart, you know that?" Ramon nods easily, and Fit cracks a smile for the first time since his worldview had been upturned the night before. "Anyway, you say Pac is coming back today?" He tries not to sound too eager, though he doesn't think he does very well - he's missed his friend, what could he say? The manual labor was much more grueling without company, he had realized. It had been hard doing it alone again after having gotten used to Pac (and on semi-frequent occasion, Mike's) company over the past few months. Even when he had suspected the other man of being the dreaded poacher, a concept he had now completely written off as too out of character to be reliable, he had been more sad about the possibility of having to turn him in than about the actual poaching - although he definitely had been sad about that too. Ramon looks like he's stifling a laugh.

"That's what Richarlyson said. He said his other parents were making him do it today." Fit doesn't have time to question why Pac apparently needed someone to make him come back after his "adventure" before Ramon is getting up from the table with an exclamation of "done!" and running out to the beach, leaving his dirty dishes to Fit and ignoring as he calls after him, of course.

He finishes cleaning up and gets outside to join him just in time to see Richarlyson running eagerly up to the other boy, Pac following behind him at a much more casual pace. He can't help frombreaking into another smile as he draws closer, black waves dripping wet (as always) and a familiar grin lighting up his face.

"Oi!" He calls out across the remaining distance. Pac wastes no time in calling back to him, speeding up his walk a bit as Richarlyson reaches his target and tackles him into a hug. Fit decides to leave them to their own devices for the moment, setting his own pace towards his approaching friend and meeting him in the middle. "Where have you been?" Pac's smile turns sheepish, and Fit's eyes flick to the way his teeth nervously pull at his lip for a moment before he speaks.

"I was feeling really sick, I think I must have caught something from touching that pelt! I was throwing up and having a- a fever, you know how it is," He looks to Fit almost bashfully, like he's fully aware Fit isn't buying it. Fit, for all he's been agonizing over the possibility of Pac being.... something, suddenly finds that he doesn't really care. The seal is alive, Richarlyson is safe - whatever Pac was doing is his business. He's just happy to have some adult company again. Before he can say as much, not that he would have, Ramon comes running up from behind him, stopping short in front of Pac with elation tangible in his demeanor.

"PAC! Richas says you went on an adventure with the seal who's skin we found, what was it like? TELL ME!" Pac laughs, startled, and crouches down to meet the boy's eyes, one hand coming up to ruffle his hair through his hat.

"Yeah, it was amazing! I gave the seal his fur back and he was like 'oh wow thank you so much! come swim with me!' And he took me to his home in the kelp forest and introduced me to all his fish friends! We even saw some- ah, I forget how you say it in English - The big guys with the claws... LOBSTERS! yeah, we saw some lobsters! And they were fighting each other with SWORDS! Oh it was so cool Ramon, I wish you could have seen it. Hey, maybe I can ask him to take you next time!" Ramon's giggles stop abruptly as he gasps in excitement, eyes lighting up as he begins pleading with Pac to do so. Fit shakes his head fondly.

There's a soft look in Pac's eyes as he speaks animatedly to Ramon, recounting his epic underwater adventures with the dramatic flair of a man who's very used to entertaining children. And yeah, Fit decides as brown eyes stray momentarily to share an amused look with him, none of it matters. He'll look at those journals later to see if there's any mention of seal pelts or strange men appearing out of nowhere, but in the meantime he couldn't care less - he has his work buddy back, his son is happy, the weather is nice and no seals have been harmed.

Maybe he can take it easy, just this once. For now.

#selkie au #fitpac #god dammit fuck this took so long #not editing this shit fuck that you'll take my inconsistent tenses and you'll LIKE IT #asks #also for the record i am probably going to turn this into a multi-chapter fic I just have to. figurre out how to do that lollll #feel free to keep sending asks i'm having so much fun

120 notes · View notes

thefanficmonster · 3 years

Text

Phone Call Anxiety

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: None

Genre: FLUFF, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: When wanting to make quality merch, one needs a quality team there to produce and work on quality ideas. Great minds think alike. Great eyes see alike and great hands make alike - the three keys to the formula of creating a clothing line that will be fashionable and up to his brand. Luckily, Corpse knows just who to call.

Requested by Anon. Hi hun! Thank you so much for your wonderful request, I absolutely loved the idea! Sorry you’ve had to wait for it to be turned into a fic for so long, but I still hope you come across it and give it a read in which case I hope you enjoy it! Love, Vy ❤

He’s not a fan of phone calls. Anyone who knows him even remotely is very well informed on Corpse’s distaste for phone calls and upholding a conversation over the phone. He’d even go as far as to say talking to a person face to face is less stressful for him than that previous option.

But still, seeing as how the person he’s trying to reach lives in a different state and is rather busy all the time, arranging an IRL meeting is basically impossible at the moment, and sending her a text results in running the risk of having the text overlooked or completely lost in the sea of notifications she probably gets on the daily.

Therefore, a phone call was his only proper way of reaching her. And it’s what’s got him pacing the room with his nervousness peaking. He doesn’t know anything about this girl, nothing concrete at least. He was referred to her by Jack who brought her up in their passing conversation when Corpse mentioned how paranoid he was regarding his upcoming merch project. He specifically stated he doesn’t want anything basic and he wants the clothes to be fashionable, suitable for anyone no matter the age or gender and to be endurable. With all the love he has for his fans, he doesn’t want to give them anything less than what they deserve - the best.

“My friend’s the person you’re looking for.“ Jack said enthusiastically and confidently, “She helped me design the latest merch line I put out and I’ve never been more satisfied with my own merch. I’m planning on offering her a position in Cloak for her birthday. Make sure not to let that one slip out if you give her a call though.“ He warned half-jokingly.

Bottom line, with that kind of intro, Corpse couldn’t help but let his interest be piqued. And so, he asked for this girl - Y/N’s contact info from Jack before he went to surf through her social media where she thankfully posted plenty of pictures of her creations, never failing to mention specifications in the caption of each picture so the viewers would get the perfect and most detailed idea of how high the standard for her work is.

And so he’s finally managed to talk himself into dialing her number that’s been sitting in his phone for weeks now. As he paces his living room, his nerves chewing him out like a dog would with a toy, listening to the ear piercing ring of the dial waiting to get picked up by the girl he’s trying to reach.

Just then, Corpse’s head turns so that his eyes meet the glowing red numbers on his digital clock on his desk and he damn near hangs up the call right away - it’s half an hour past midnight. Fast as lightning, he removes the phone from his ear, his thumb flying over to press the red ‘end call’ button. Just then, a faint ‘hello’ reaches his ears, coming from the phone’s speaker. She’s answered the call.

He hurries to put the phone back up to his ear.

“Hey, sorry for taking so long to pick up, I ought to clean my desk eventually cause my phone was literally BURIED under a pile of papers.“ A cheerful sing-song voice rattles his stale and sleep deprived consciousness, as if awakening him from a half-dream state. “You’re either a wrong number caller or a last minute client, aren’t you? Need something done urgently?“

Corpse is taken the hell aback by her strong and downright awing first impression. Not to mention her energy at an hour unsuitable for calls. Lord knows he wouldn’t have picked up if her were in her spot. With the intention of not wasting any more of her time than necessary, he hurries to explain his situation. “Y/N, right? Um no, I’m neither actually. I was told about you by a friend, he said you were a real miracle-doer with fashion design.” He trails off for a second, not completely sure of how to hold this conversation, “Uh, sorry for the odd timed call, I lost track of time. I’ve been meaning to call you for hours now but I...I was nervous.” He cringes the second the word leaves his lips, leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. He doesn’t know why he wants to leave her with a great, better than realistic impression of himself but he does and as of now he deems his attempts as ultimate failures.

He hears her giggle from her end, rifling through what sounds to be papers, “Yeah, I’m her. And boy is it refreshing to get someone who’s calling with an actual purpose.” She sighs as if a weight’s been lifted off her shoulders, “And don’t worry about the phone call anxiety. Makes two of us, to be honest.”

This catches him off-guard. The last thing he’d expect is for this girl to have phone call anxiety. In fact, she appears to be a natural, God-given talent at carrying conversations and upholding chit-chat with people. Maybe he’s a little too quick to judge - probably, considering he’s ‘known’ her for less than five minutes and knows nothing but her occupation, her name and the state she lives in - but that bubbly persona she greeted him with gave off the impression that it’s immune to any and all kinds of social anxiety - or anxiety in general. To hear such an honest and counter-to-assumptions confession on her part rattles him a tiny bit. In a good way though.

“How does that work for you? Isn’t your whole job depending on your phone conversational skills?“ He doesn’t mind that he didn’t phrase that too perfectly or that he straight up blurted it out. He knows he’ll be understood. She’s obviously a person who understands. Not just something specific, but everything. She simply understands. How he drew this conclusion and how accurate it is, he may not know until further notice.

“Well...“ she sighs as if genuinely looking to give him a proper answer, “You see, after doing it for so long and having been caught off guard quite a few times with some absolutely absurd orders, I’ve grown prepared of literally ANYTHING and I have a line prepared for anything the caller has to say. I just no longer let them catch me off guard and it’s fine. Helps avoid any possible awkward silences.“

Corpse’s eyebrows shoot up, her explanation only raising more questions rather than providing answers. But he’s not gonna be the annoying dumbass asking those questions at close to 1AM and bugging her. After all, if she agrees to this partnership, they’ll be hearing and potentially seeing a lot more of each other soon. “Impressive, honestly. You’re gonna need to teach me sometime.“ He’s unaware he’s smiling until he catches his reflection in the window. However, he doesn’t bother hiding it. This conversation is actually making him feel good, serving as a reminder that he’s not the only one who periodically goes through turmoil over small things.

She giggles again, this time the sound manages to draw a blush out of him, coating his cheeks, “I’d typically stray for revealing my secrets to professional success, but I’m willing to make an exception for you...” she pauses for a second as though she’s just now remembered something, “Oh shoot, I don’t even know your name.”

He wheezes out a nervous laugh, realizing he never introduced him, “Oh yeah, sorry, that’s my bad. My name’s Corpse, nice to meet ya.”

“Nice to meet you too, Corpse.“ Y/N replies, sounding pleased but teasing simultaneously, “Now tell me, you didn’t call me about my phone call secrets, did you? What may be the real purpose of your call?“

Oh shoot, he himself almost forgot what he was calling for. Luckily, the reference designs displayed on his computer screen remind him. “Right, well, I’ve been thinking of launching a new merch line either this month or the next, depending on how long the procedure will take, and I needed someone great on my team to make some merch actually worth the money people are paying for it. And, as I said, I was told you were in that ‘someone great’ category.”

“Told by who, if you don’t mind me asking?“ She briefly cuts him off, her voice now giving away the fact that she’s half-absent-minded in this conversation, added evidence be the ruffling of more papers on her end.

“Jack. I mean, Sean. You know, Jacksepticeye.“ Corpse explains, contemplating whether he should’ve ratted Jack out like that. Hearing the sound of delight Y/N lets out eases his worries ASAP though.

“Oh Gosh, I haven’t seen that cutie in so long! He’s like a brother to me so a friend of Jack’s is a friend of min-“ this time she cuts herself off so abruptly Corpse thought the line was cut or she hung up on him. She doesn’t let him wonder for long though, “Wait, wait, wait....Merch? And you’re friends with Jack?“ She pauses for a second once again, once again not a long enough second for Corpse to speak up. “You’re a famous YouTuber, aren’t you?“

He was completely unaware of the fact Y/N hadn’t realized he was someone famous yet. In fact, he didn’t think of it because he thought it wouldn’t be a big deal to her considering she’s friends with Jack-fucking-septiceye! In his mind, his ranking is far lower than Jack’s - despite that mindset being absurd - so the last thing he expected was for her to have some sort of impressed reaction to have been talking to him on the phone this whole time. Hell, she doesn’t even know his full YouTube name or what kind of content he produces.

“WAIT!“ She shouts urgently, startling him a tiny bit, “You’re Corpse Husband, aren’t you? Oh my God, yes you are, how didn’t I put it together sooner? Ah crap, I really need more coffee for this.“

“No! No, you need more sleep.“ Corpse hurries to correct her but is very clearly ignored or overlapped with the many sounds that are coming from her end, “What are you doing?“

“You’re getting the first rough sketch of a design by tomorrow morning.“ She says, taking a sip of whatever beverage she’s acquired for the purpose of keeping her awake, “You go ahead and get some sleep, I know exactly what I’m doing. Don’t worry about it.“

“I’m not worried about the design.“ He hurries to say before she, God forbid, hangs up on him, “It’s 1AM, woman, you need sleep! I don’t need those designs done by tomorrow. Hell, I don’t even need them this week!“

“You don’t, but I do.“ Y/N says, sounding almost breathless because of what seems to be overwhelming excitement, “You don’t get it - I’m designing merch for Corpse fucking Husband! You have any idea how crazy that is?“

“I personally would say it’s underwhelming. I mean, I’m no Pewdiepie, after all.“ He says, now sat at his desk with his free hand rubbing his temple as he stares at the designs he’s pulled up on his screen, ones he probably won’t need given that he’s now working with a professional.

“Oh, shut it.“ She chuckles, “Shut it and get some sleep, ok? I’ll talk to you in the morning.“

“Noooo...“ He leisurely stretches the word, “Tell me, Y/N, do you have Discord?” She clicks her tongue instantly, giving him a signal that the question he’s asked is bordering into the territory of ridiculous. He playfully rolls his eyes, “Alright then, lemme find you. If we’re partnering up on this, we’re both staying up.”

“You know you can just straight up tell me you don’t fully trust me with this? Like, I won’t be offended, I get it.“ She murmurs in-thought, the sound of clicking evident on her end.

“You know you can just straight up tell me you don’t want me bothering you and want me to leave you alone?“ He mimics her statement, smirking to himself as he pulls up Discord, knowing he’s already won.

She huffs and tells him her Discord info, quickly adding a small comment, “...but only because great minds think alike. I know we’ll be getting along on this design pretty nicely.”

“Yeah, yeah, right, sure, whatever you say.“ He laughs, “Accept my friend request and let’s drop this phone call.“

“Hey! - um, before we do that, I just wanna say a quick thank you.“ Y/N murmurs quietly, as if half-hoping he doesn’t hear her.

“For what?“ Corpse asks, his brows furrowing, unsure if they’re on the same page about this gratitude.

“For never once triggering my phone call anxiety.“ She admits, “I mean, I know I said I have lines prepared for every conversation scenario possible, but you totally caught me off-guard.“ She giggles a tiny bit, now sounding dangerously close to nervous, “But, not in a bad way, if that makes sense. Sorry if it doesn’t, I need more coffee.“

“No, no, it does!“ He hurries to reassure her, “It really does. And thank you too. Thank you for, you know, tolerating my BS at this hour. God knows I would’ve ignored your call if our roles were reversed.“

He hears her scoff and can’t help but laugh, “Huh ok, I see.“ She says, sounding greatly triggered and mock-pissed at his confession, “I’ll make sure to think of that next time you call me after midnight. Or at all, ever.“

Laughing his butt off, the only thing Corpse can think of in this moment is:

Damn, this girl and I are gonna get along

@maat-the-prescriptive @simonsbluee @save-the-sky @itsminniekat @hacker-ghost @bi-andready-tocry @imtiredaffff @jazzkaurtheglorious @hereforbeebo @fandomgirl17 @chrysanthykios @maehemscorpyus @loraleiix @letsloveimagines @annshit @i-cant-choose-a-username-help @enigmaticmaze @divine-artemis @waterlilypat @idontknowwhatthisisfam @evi-ka @classyandfabulous00 @redperson58 @lilysdaydreams @solowheein @mythicalamphitrite @axen-gers @luckygirl144 @nj01 @buddyemily @the-albino-lioness @stardream14 @gdhdkfnn @nomadicgypsyy @preciousskye @fluffysuicideunicornsworld @o-kaelin @manacharlotte @awkward-youtube-trash @lolalee24 @bonky-beerns @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian @strawbrinkofdeath @teenloves @tams0527 @browneyespinkhair @starstruckllamapuppy @daisychains012 @y0ulooked @tinytacosuitcaseflap @supernatural-is-my-only-life @jula-pauline @melodykitty @just-that-bi-girl @crazybutconfidentaf @lowellshade @alphakees @bellero @weallneednamjesus @starryhanji @boiled-onionrings @husherstan @fockingwhore @melaningoddessthings @prettypastelpetals @haleypearce @godwhyamiawkward @y-napotat @daisychainyoonmin @little-miss-rebel3 @free-wheelin-bi-sexual @redmoon261 @darkacademic2 @wiseflamingoqueen @into-the-end @namikhai-i @nastiablr @thelittleplantlover @mirktuan @dont-hyuck @jjk-bunny @vintagegothlover @easygoingtheatre @itsrandombooklover @miiaivi @emmybaybee @befourgolden @jjk-is-my-shit @eternalteaaars @spacebadgerx @princesslunalight @acequinn14 @samm48 @misselsbells06 @simp-lykawa @fo-love @marishimomura-blog @therealglenncoco @cinnamonbun332 @killtherandomness @sanshinexxxsan @fee-btheweeb @press-lay @cathleenpotgieter16 @jazzydoesstuff @moonlxghtbay @forestrain2000 @hyunjinhugs @blood-of-fandoms @lovellylies @ukiyolixx @simpforhpcharacters @chrisdylan17 @parkerjisung @pedernille @theodonyous @wineandionysus @malfoystilinskii05 @morbid-x @coryisagee @jessewa26 @scoobydooluver97 @mindintheskies365 @raeanneinwonderland @indecisive-empanada @gluttonypalace @loriane2503 @btsiguess-kpop @khaoticbunny @lucidlycactus @smiithys @rottenroyalebooks @kpopgirlbtssvt @fangirl-tc27 @fr0z3n-1 @notmesimpingfortechno @shotarosleftpinky @kunoi-chan @idk-whats-wrong-with-me @yikeroonie @goldenstarofthunderclan @poetry-and-tea @ama-do-writing-stuff @wishbonewolf @emeraldxhope @t0xick1tty @kusuinko @speakyourselfloveyourself @sophia902103 @lo-manburg @classsykittykat @dmgama @depressedpuppythatneedscoffee @btsiguess-kpop @akaashi-baby @gun-jong-simp @geschichtenfee @yerapotato-wp @browneyedgirl365 @thysagclub @sparklycloudnight @helloatomicshadow @queentorresstuff @vtte @val-gal @lucy-bunny17 @aaliyahh0 @katluckybear @boyleanti @straybids @franchesca-791 @cosmicstorm19 @averyisbackinthetrashcan @aomi-nabi @xlanawriter @allensimpsforcorpse

286 notes · View notes

justcourttee · 3 years

Note

could you do one where dami and mari are dating but they havent told the waynes yet and they keep seeing hints of their relationship (like clothes around the place, dami talking to on the phone and smiling, stuff like that) but they cant figure out whats happening!!!! the ice prince is softening and theyre like wtf!!!

I’m sorry, it’s a little different. I got carried away! I hope you still like it!

Tim is Like a Genius or Something..

It was official. Tim had lost it.

At least that was the sentiment the family shared as they watched him tumble down the rabbit hole that he had sprawled out across the dining room table.

“-and then he smiled at me. At me! That has never happened before, at least not a genuine one.” He paused to catch his breath, allowing his theory to sink in.

“Timmy, don’t you think you’re giving the boy too much credit?” Jason was the only one able to voice what they all were thinking, at least the one with the best chance of not getting their head torn off. “I mean, he has trouble communicating with his own gender and now you’re telling me he’s been able to woo his female lab partner?”

Tim slammed his hands on the table in frustration before sinking back into the chair he had started in. For weeks now he had been gathering evidence of his brother’s oddities and for weeks he had been haunted by a softer and friendlier Damian.

“Think about it guys, please!”

His pleads seemed to fall on deaf ears as one by one they left the table, each offering their own look of sympathy until he was the only one in the room. It wasn’t long until he himself had given up, collecting his pictures from the table, tearing them in half one by one.

Maybe Dick was right. His hallucinations were getting the better of him. After all, even if Damian was changing, it couldn’t be because of one girl, right?

Absolutely nobody in the world could wield enough power to reign in a demon such as him. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Tim had survived another week of hallucinations. He had tried sleeping more, laying off his coffee, and even cutting his hours back from Wayne Enterprises. But as he sat in the kitchen, going through his emails, his mind remained drowning in thoughts of his replacement.

“Timmy, do you know who this jacket belongs to? The ladies say it’s not theirs and if it’s one of Brucie’s night friends, I bet it’s worth thousands.”

Tim spared a glance from his laptop to where Jason stood in front of him, his fist clenched around a small black pullover. He had half the mind to wave him off when something pink flashed from the corner of his eye.

“Jason, let me see the jacket.”

Jason tossed it, his face cautious as if Tim were about to dart with his next paycheck, but it was the furthest thought in the younger Wayne’s mind.

“The girl that Damian is always bringing over, it belongs to her. His lab partner.”

“You mean Marinette? Damn, then I probably won’t make much off of it. Guess I’ll probably give it back next time I see her.”

Tim waited, his face showcasing the perplexion he felt as Jason seemed to walk away thoughtlessly. How he could come to the same conclusion that he did? How? It felt like it was so obvious.

“No.” His voice was firm, barely above a whisper as he shook off the thought, returning to his laptop. He agreed that he would drop it and that’s what he was going to do. “Marinette was just a nice girl trying to help out Damian and he probably views as some intriguing toy, yeah, that’s all.”

Besides, it was just one jacket and why would he want to damn the girl over one jacket.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . He should have damned her. That was the only thought that plagued his mind as he listened to the conversation at breakfast.

“Did you guys know that the Demon uses his phone during patrol?”

Bruce looked up from his paper, his face a mixture of disappointment and interest.

“Can you elaborate Dick? What do you mean by uses his phone?”

“Exactly that! We took a break on a roof in our sector and right as I was about to turn around to ask him where we should check next, he was answering a phone call! We sat on that roof for an hour because he said ‘he couldn’t hang up yet’.”

Tim nearly choked on his coffee as he slammed his mug into the table earning a glance from both the men.

“Richard, who was calling him?”

“Hmm? You know, I tried asking him but he waved me off instead.”

“You mean he didn’t try to tear your head off?” Tim watched in horror as Dick shook his head in denial, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Maybe he finally has a friend other than Jon!”

Bruce nodded as if the notion weren’t completely insane, his eyes returning the newspaper in his hands. Dick smiled, returning to his crossword as if there was nothing wrong with the world as if he didn’t drop the largest bombshell in history.

“This is so wrong, why can’t any of you see how wrong this is?”

Neither spared him a glance as they continued their morning routines with thoughtless giddy expressions.

At this point, Tim wasn’t sure he could drop it anymore. There was so much evidence piling up, so much pointing that Damian obviously liked the girl at least. Why was he the only one who could see that?

It was decided. The next time Marinette came over, he was confronting this once and for all.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Tim waited and waited. Weeks passed between her last visit to the manor. Damian had left several times and random hours of the day, always giving him vague answers as to where he was going. It was as if the little demon read his mind and decided it was safer to meet her outside the manor.

He was so close to giving up when a truly diabolical thought crossed his mind. His smile was sinister as he approached Bruce’s office, his plan foolproof. He gave a slight knock on the door, two voices asking him to enter.

“Hey Bruce, Dick. I was just thinking the other day, we haven’t seen Marinette around lately. You both know that Damian is terrible at keeping up with his acquaintances. Maybe we should invite her for dinner one night! I mean, we all adore her, right? She is such a good influence for Damian too.”

It was like clockwork. Both Dick and Bruce jumped on the opportunity each pulling out their phones to let both kids know the details of when this dinner party would occur. As Tim left out the room, he couldn’t help the hysterical giggle that escaped from his lips. For good measure, he made sure to linger by Damian’s room, awaiting the reaction he was longing to hear. Surely enough, a soft ‘shit’ could be heard followed by heavy footsteps echoing as if he was pacing his room. It was the best sound Tim had heard in weeks.

Three agonizing days passed before Tim found himself waiting at the manor door to welcome Marinette into the manor. Damian had volunteered to bring her to the dining room himself, but Tim argued that it would be rude if not a single one of them were also there to greet her. In the end, Tim and Dick were volunteered to accompany one angry demon to see Marinette to the dining hall.

“Thank you so much for having me! I was surprised when I received a call from not just Damian, but you too Dick. I was under the impression that Damian hadn’t said anything yet.”

Damian’s face paled as his eyes darted to Dick’s as if Marinette said something damning. Tim caught onto immediately, his eyes also watching Dick’s face for any indication that he had realized the weight in her statement.

“Said anything? You mean about your friendship? Well, it’s impossible to pry anything from him, but we couldn’t let him keep you all to himself!”

In all of his blissful ignorance, he turned on his heel, dragging Marinette with him, chatting idly about whatever came to mind. Damian raced after him, his face a mixture of panic and hatred. It was a sight that warmed Tim to his core.

All dinner he watched as Damian stirred the conversation off Marinette only for someone to inevitably bring it right back. He relished in Damian nearly pulling his own hair out to ensure no one asked the question that Tim had been pressing for weeks now.

As the night drew to an end, Damian couldn’t rush her out of the manor fast enough. The doors slammed shut with a loud thud ricocheting through everyone’s ears.

“So, we’re in agreeance right?”

Tim turned his attention to where Jason leaned against the entryway, his lazy smirk building hope in the younger boy’s chest.

“Very much. They are definitely courting, or what is the phrase you call it now? Dating? Hangin’?” Bruce chuckled at his own joke before his gaze dropped to meet Tim’s. “It looks like we owe you an apology.”

Words never sounded more beautiful to Tim, he honestly felt like he might shed a tear. A heavy weight caused him to stumble as Dick threw himself onto Tim’s back.

“Tim is like a genius or something, right guys? I mean who would have ever guessed that Damian had a girlfriend! Hey, do you think they’ll get married? Does that mean at this point Damian is your best chance at getting grandkids?”

Tim dealt with the picking and jokes and the onslaught of fake apologies as they remained crowded in the entrance, waiting for Damian’s return. To him, none of it mattered as much as seeing his replacement’s face the minute they walked through the door.

After all, it was a large reward for a small price to pay. It all comes with being a genius.

Permanent Tag List:

@ash-amg @rebecarojas07 @heaven428 @long-lost-peace @thequeenofpotatoeunicornss @moongoddesskiana @nach0ava @iamablinkmarvelarmy @seraphkitty @clumsy-owl-4178 @pawsitivelymiraculous @mialuvscats @leagrey @smolplantmum @animegirlweeb @glitterflowercat @ladybug-182 @maskedpainter @remy-289 @redbullgivescaswings

#maribat #daminette

321 notes · View notes

cant-think-of-anything · 3 years

Text

All my energy was used on the fic, you don't get a title

Basically I took the scenes of lord of shadows and replaced the characters

( @littlx-songbxrd helped me develop the plot a lot so thank you Zia)

TW: descriptions of blood and injury, mentions of homophobia and ableism

Thomas had quickly come to the conclusion that he hated the land of Fae. Not because the location itself harboured ill experiences, but rather because of his travel companions.

He glanced at said travel companions. Alastair and Christopher were attempting to assemble a fire, struggling greatly because London wasn't exactly a place of forests. Alastair's face was stern with concentration, eyebrows drawn together as they always were, a permanent appearance of disapproval. His lips were turned down slightly, frustration causing him to scrunch up his face.

It wasn't adorable, Thomas scolded himself, it was intolerable. And entirely unenjoyable. He breathed a sigh, turning away from them and back at the rushing waters of a river. They'd been sent to be audience to the Seelie court and request their assistance to defeat Belial. It was a useless excursion, the Faerie wouldn't intervene unless their own land was being threatened. But the Clave had sent them regardless.

Christopher called his name, his voice a whispered yell as to not draw attention from whatever lurked in the forests. He picked his way back, settling on his sleeping mat and looking up. Without a fire, only moonlight made anything visible. Christopher had curled up already, but Alastair was awake. He was staring up at the stars his eyes wide with something like wonder.

The sight was disarming, but Thomas turned away, before Alastair caught his stare. Nothing good could result from that. The Sanctuary was a few weeks past, and what had started as longing glances and tortured pining turned into short tempers and quick annoyance. They hadn't talked, not the way Thomas desperately wanted to, but they had argued and bickered nearly every time they crossed paths. And he despised it.

Curling his hand into a fist, he turned onto his side and willed himself to sleep.

____

Alastair was fairly certain they were lost. It was as if Faerie shifted everytime they were on the correct path, and it accomplished nothing but adding to his frustration. And apparently, Thomas's.

"We should go north." He said, his eyes glinting with annoyance.

"Are you stupid? Do you want us to get killed? We'll end up there either way."

"Your method would take longer and time is something I don't fancy to waste."

"And your brilliant solution is to- what? Traverse through an entirely unmapped territory? It's far too dangerous, and I would like to keep my head adjoined to my body."

"Maybe sometimes it would do you some good to do something dangerous."

"Oh?" Alastair whirled towards him, their faces inches away from the other, each sparked with anger. "Do something dangerous? Like you? To my memory, it got you imprisoned!"

"Perhaps it would suit you to travel in solitude! Since you always seem to prefer that anyway!"

"I do not-"

"I really do not think we should be causing this much of a disturbance," Christopher chimed in, his face twisted in confusion, head swiveling between both of them. "They're simply... directions?"

"Without directions." Alastair said, "you end up lost." His eyes stayed locked with Thomas's, head tilted to meet his infuriating height.

"We won't get lost," he hissed back.

"For someone with a tattoo of a compass you truly have a horrendous sense of direction-"

"We could just," Christopher started, flipping the map over, before looking up with wide eyes. "Go through here." He gestured at the map.

"Absolutely wonderful. Let's leave, I wish to depart as soon as we're able."

A few moments passed before a loud screech like noise emerged from the forests. Because why, Alastair thought drawing out his weapons, would anything ever be simple for him. Christopher and Thomas pressed closer when the creature burst forth from the trees. And really creature was the only world he had for it. It appeared as a demon but not one Alastair had ever studied, and from the looks on the others faces they hadn't either.

"Do we-"

The creature lunged faster than any demon could, a flash of the murky green that colored it's scales. It's claws flashed, charging at Thomas. Alastair briefly registered slipping in between the two, lodging the wooden shaft of his spear between it's jaw. He sought out Christopher sliding under the thing to stab it with his blade, killing it quickly but not quickly enough to prevent when the creatures claws raked against the top of his chest.

Air rushed out of his lungs and he felt familiar arms wrap around him, catching him before he could fall. His eyes fluttered shut on their own record. He fought to regain conciusness, he refused to be unconscious around the likes of his companions, but he felt himself dragged into blackness regardless.

---

Christopher was accustomed to his friends odd relations. He had certainly gained enough practice observing the spats they often had. But whatever anger his cousin held towards Alastair was always a puzzle to him. He was sure it was a puzzle to them too considering their never ending shifts in emotion.

He looked over at Thomas who's face was twisted in something between intense worry and sorrow. His eyes dropped to Alastair who had still not woken up, bandages covered the scratches that stretched from his shoulder to the top of his neck. He winced remembering the injury, bleeding profusely with no runes to stem it. His own worry for Alastair had occupied much of his mind. James and Matthew would be furious at such a thing but Christopher found he didn't care.

"I'll go stand watch," Christopher offered, making his way to the outside of the cave they'd taken shelter in.

Thomas hated being in debt, he remembered. When they were younger he would never accept help unless it was forced upon him, his stubborn nature preventing it. And now after Alastair had risked his life twice to help him, he must feel like he owed something.

Christopher pulled himself onto one of the rocks resting outside of the cave and tipped his head back. He missed his home. Not whatever had overtaken it in the months past, he missed Henry, he missed his parents who he'd barely conversed with since before the killings had happened. He missed Alexander even if the child cried a storm. He glanced up at the sky, noticing the first rays of dawn breaking through the clouds. He pulled himself off of his rock with a sigh. He wished for normalcy more than anything. But he doubted it would grace them anytime soon.

He ducked under the entrance of the cave, opening his mouth to call out for Thomas to get ready to depart. But Thomas wasn't awake.

He was curled onto his side, facing Alastair, both evidently asleep. Their hands stretched out the distance between them and were laced together.

Christopher sucked in a breath. "Oh, Thomas," he breathed.

He'd known of his cousin's vauge feelings for Alastair from the time that Thomas was quite a bit shorter than him. But he hadn't fully understood what the two felt towards each other. He knelt between them, gently attempting to pry their hands apart, but both their grips tightened. As if through the small action they were able to pour every unsaid emotion they'd held.

Christopher wasn't a stranger to the way the Clave treated anyone they viewed as different. The way they shut down every attempt Henry had made to better the Shadowhunter world, the way they would continue to deny any of his own attempts. They claimed to want happiness and order for all but the moment someone proved to differ from their standards they would shut them down and rid of the evidence. They would remain under the pretense of fairness while they claimed credit for any accomplishments him or his uncle managed to force into them.

Thomas never had chosen himself, never his own happiness. Christopher let go of their intertwined hands, then looking at Thomas's face. It was almost drawn up in concentration. He stood, glancing at them once more before returning to the front of the cave and yelling for Thomas to wake up so they could depart to the castle. It wasn't as much as he wanted to do, but it was all he could.

___

Thomas dumped their small pile of belongings near the foot of the bed. The Seelie Queen had apparently chosen graciousness that night and permitted them two rooms. Christopher claimed the first one, leaving Thomas and Alastair to occupy the other. Not that Alastair had woken yet.

Thomas crossed the room, refusing to look where Alastair was laying on the bed, where he would soon need to lay next to him. He made his way to Christopher's room, too tired to truly marvel at the tall marble pillars and regal decor adorning the halls and bedrooms. Christopher was cross-legged on the bed, scrawling something into a notebook under the dim lights that shone through the waterfall close to the wall.

He pulled himself onto the bed next to him, worrying at the material of his nightshirt. Christopher looked up after a moment, fixing his peculiar eyes on Thomas.

"Are you all right Tom?"

The question shouldn't have startled him as much as it did. "I'm okay."

Christopher lips tightened. "You're lying. You usually do when people ask you."

Thomas breathed a soft sigh, pulling his legs up onto the bed. "I know."

Christopher studied him for a few moments, debating something in his mind before saying "You don't have to sacrifice yourself to make us happy Thomas. Anyone who truly cares for you will not love you any less for your decisions."

Thomas startled, looking at him with widened eyes. Something in his heart sped up, as if a weight had lifted from it causing it to beat faster in it's absence. "I don't- I don't understand-"

A hand gripped his forearm. "Go back to your room Thomas. I suspect he'll wake soon."

___

When Alastair woke he wasn't in a forest. He had known the Faerie were images of royalty but the room seemed ridiculously extravagant. He wanted to pull himself up in the bed but a sharp sting on his neck forced him back down.

The door swung open then, Thomas entered with a odd look on his face. It switched to overwhelming relief when he saw Alastair.

Swallowing, Alastair rose a hand his neck. The Faeries must have worked on the wound, it had healed over somewhat but not enough to relieve him of the pain.

He heard Thomas clear his throat. When Alastair looked up again, he'd moved to the other side of his bed. "You had gotten injured in the forest. We're in the Seelie Courts now, you've been indisposed for a few hours."

"Oh." He wasn't sure what else to add.

Thomas stared at him for a few unnerving moments before making a frustrated noise. He slid onto the bed, folding his legs underneath him and giving Alastair an imploring sort of look. "I'm sorry. For everything I've done. And I'm sorry I couldn't give you the right words in the sanctuary. I'll try to give them now."

Alastair inhaled sharply, from surprise rather than pain. "I don't understand. You shouldn't be apologizing-"

Thomas half smiled before cutting him off. "Let someone apologize to you for once. You deserve as much after the way we've treated you."

Biting his lip and looking away, Alastair noticed the pile of clothes and other luggage in the corner of the room. Oh. He turned back.

"Well Mr. Lightwood I find your apology to be satisfactory, despite it still being unnecessary."

Thomas smiled fully then and something in Alastair's chest loosened.

"Does this mean I am permitted to use the bed alongside you?" His voice was teasing.

"As long as you manage to stay on your side of it."

But that rule was quickly broken, Thonas shifted close and carefully curled his body around Alastair, his head resting on in his curls and limb wrapped loosely around him. Alastair breathed a small breath of relief before pressing his face into Thomas's neck and sleeping peacefully for the first time in years.

Happy birthday Zia!! Ilysm and you deserve literally every good thing in the world, you're amazing and very talented and yeah <33

Tagging: @adoravel-fenomeno @thewarthatsavedmylife @eugeniaslongsword @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @foxglove-airmid @littlx-songbxrd @alice-got-the-blues @writeforjordelia (lmk if you want to be added or removed)

I'll tag @youngreckless for thomastair week

#alastair carstairs #thomas lightwood #christopher lightwood #tlh #thomastair #the last hours #tsc

63 notes · View notes

clanwarrior-tumbly · 4 years

Note

Hi! Could I request the V3 boys reactions to their s/o becoming the blackened because they were trying to save them.

Yesssss more angst! These were fun to write!

TWs: Blood, Death, Suicide Mentions, and Major DRV3 Spoilers

..............

Ryoma

No..it couldn’t be true..could it?

Ryoma couldn’t believe you’d actually kill someone, though your reason came as a shock: It was to save his life.

Kirumi was plotting to murder him after the second motive came out. And she obviously panicked when you showed up instead of him, so she tried attacking you.

But you retaliated, leaving her body in the bathroom and altering the crime scene to make it look like she slipped while cleaning it.

You didn’t want to kill anyone, but you were terrified she might target him some other time if you didn’t stop her.

Yet Ryoma vehemently denied you did anything, arguing with Shuichi up until he pointed out incriminating evidence.

He was crushed, knowing he’s going to lose another loved one.

He can’t understand why a criminal like him was worth saving.

But the deed was done. And as your final wish before being executed, you plead for him to survive and see that life’s worth it.

While he’s never been good with promises, he’ll try to keep this last one...for your sake.

Shuichi

He learned the truth earlier than anyone else.

Someone knew he was too smart, always leading the trials and making the swift deductions.

So they believed eliminating him would guarantee them escape from the academy, as everyone would arrive to wrong conclusions without him.

However you put a stop to their plot, accidentally killing them with their own weapon they prepared.

Shuichi didn’t want it to be you--not you, of all people--so he’s far more reluctant to accuse you of murder.

He’s pretty much mute throughout the trial, but you take notice fast and see him slipping back into that cowardly detective persona.

“Shuichi, don’t you dare go back into hiding. Don’t you dare look away from the truth again.”

“..but...”

He just absolutely refuses to. He can’t....not this time.

So instead, you reveal the truth about your crime. Every last detail--from when the motive came out to how you disposed of the evidence.

By the end of your explanation, he’s in tears--realizing you saved his life..in exchange for your own.

Every night since then, he cries as he hugs the Helping Yacchi plush you gave him the day before the body was discovered.

It hurt so much to condemn you, someone he truly loved.

Kokichi

You learned very quickly that Miu was plotting to kill Kokichi, after noticing her put a bottle of poison in his seat before returning to hers and logging in.

That made you livid. But more scared than anything else.

So you formulated a plan after learning everything (or almost everything) about the virtual world.

You overheard Miu and Kokichi planning to meet on the mansion rooftop, and you didn’t like that idea one bit.

Little did you know, he and Gonta were conspiring to murder her, too, but you beat them to the punch.

Obviously he was pissed someone foiled his plans....but imagine his shock when it turned out to be you.

The two were suspects for a long time as they explained the “Killing Game Busters” scheme.

But since Miu died by your hands--their names were cleared.

Kokichi was in frustrated tears, yelling at you for not telling him sooner.

But he ultimately breaks down when your punishment was announced.

He clings to you, crying and begging you not to leave him--he even pleads with Monokuma to let him die with you.

This time it’s not an act.

He feels genuine sorrow and heartache for a long time after the trial.

Gonta

It’d be impossible to think anyone would try to kill him.

But someone tried taking advantage of his gullibility. And you happened to be there at the exact same time, attacking the assailant while your entomologist boyfriend ran off in fear.

You cleaned as much evidence as you could before finding and consoling him, lying that you just talked to them.

He believes you and is relieved---until the body discovery announcement plays later on.

Even though you lied, he doesn’t blame you. Not even during the trial where you made up an alibi.

But when Gonta himself is questioned...he clams up, knowing exactly what happened and being too scared to say the truth.

He doesn’t want to condemn you! Gentlemen don’t-

You reassure him it’s okay. Shuichi has you in a corner and there’s no point in letting the trial drag on.

So he eventually admits what he saw, and he can only cry as he votes you as the Blackened.

You two share one last hug, and he says he’ll never ever call you a killer, thanking you for protecting him even if he failed to protect you.

Korekiyo

It doesn’t come as a surprise that someone would try murdering him. He could see the hatred in their eyes whenever he looked at them.

His menacing appearance seems to be more than enough of a reason to target him.

However, after finding their body and signs of a struggle surrounding the crime scene, he arrives to the conclusion that the culprit knew he was in danger and killed to protect him.

Ah...how beautiful that realization was.

Or so he thought.

When it’s revealed you carried out that deed, using his golden sword to swiftly kill the victim, his heart is completely shattered.

‘No..no, no, no, no, no!!’

He feels anger, sorrow, confusion, and..so many other unpleasant things at once as you confess to the crime.

Not even Sister calms him down. He becomes belligerent, trying to steer everyone away from the truth and claim he killed the victim in self-defense.

You have to step off your podium to console him, as he was screaming his head off and scaring everyone.

When the trial is over, he just holds you close, begging Monokuma not to take you--his one true love--away from him.

But alas, it’s all for nothing as you’re sentenced to your execution.

Though you remind Korekiyo of what he’s taught you about death, as you didn’t fear it, and you promise you’ll watch over him in the afterlife.

Kaito

He’s incredibly outraged when everyone suspects you as the culprit in spite of the evidence that piles up.

“Shuichi, you're not actually gonna believe their crap, right?! Stop screwing around--!”

“He’s not, Kaito. It's the truth."

Stunned, he looks at you. Since your podium was conveniently next to his, he didn’t have to look far to see the guilt in your eyes.

Learning your motivation, however, is what ultimately crushed him.

You killed...to protect him?

No..

That couldn’t be right! He was suppose to protect you! Didn’t he always tell you how killing was wrong and-?!

But the truth was you did try talking some sense into the victim...but they attacked you instead, and you retaliated in self-defense. So it was purely accidental.

Kaito is pissed when Monokuma jests that “murder is murder” no matter what and he actually tries fighting the Exisals.

You insist he doesn’t interfere, and plead for him to use that strength to help protect everyone else instead.

His spirit is broken for a while, but...he’ll recover and keep fighting on. For your sake.

K1B0

Something in you snapped when you overheard Kokichi taunt your robot boyfriend for the last time, actually hurting him physically as well as emotionally.

K1B0 went to you in tears, not understanding why he hated him so much.

After comforting him, you’ve finally had enough. You were sick of him being harassed nonstop.

So you sent him to see Miu while you met with Kokichi to “talk”.

While the Ultimate Supreme Leader seemed suspicious, he let his guard down...sealing his fate as you strangled him with his own scarf.

Then you inflicted numerous wounds on his corpse to disguise the true cause of death.

But when the truth was revealed, K1B0 was in total shock at your motive.

He couldn’t believe you’d do something so barbaric.

Even if Kokichi bullied him relentlessly, there’s no reason you had to go as far as murder him!

However he understands anger can be a powerful emotion--one that throws any and all sense of logic out the window.

Still..it hurt to watch you get executed. He went into shutdown for the rest of the day/night.

And here he was, thinking you two had finally torn down the wall of “forbidden love” between human and robot for good.

Rantaro

You managed to kill Tsumugi before she had a chance to murder Rantaro and Kaede’s final part of her plan went into motion.

The shot put ball’s sudden appearance startled him into forgetting about the hidden room and running out of the library..

And up the stairs as the obnoxious music stops and one of the girls yelled for everyone to come into the bathroom--where Tsumugi’s body was.

At that point, the game should’ve ended since you actually killed the mastermind.

But of course, Team Danganronpa had backup plans and thus the game kept going.

You had rearranged the crime scene to make it look like a suicide, leading everyone to assume the time limit’s pressures are what killed the cosplayer.

But eventually your crime was unraveled and Rantaro was utterly devastated.

You’re the first Blackened in yet another killing game he was forced to participate in.

You only killed Tsumugi because you found it suspicious she suddenly ran off on her own near the time limit’s end.

In doing so you unknowingly saved Rantaro’s life in exchange for your own.

He was upset you did something so rash when he clearly told everyone not to, but...at the same time he’s grateful to be alive because of you.

He swears your death won’t be in vain. He’s gonna escape this game with everyone else.

188 notes · View notes

silence-burns · 4 years

Text

Please Hate Me //part 38

Fandom: Marvel

Summary: Based on: “Imagine having a love/hate relationship with Loki.” by @thefandomimagine Who would have thought that babysitting a god could be so much fun?

Genre: slow-burn, enemies to lovers

The pale cheek was rubbery and cold under your finger. You poked it again. "Are you sure he's dead?"

Loki looked at the severed, and a little chewed, bottom half of the ambassador. "Pretty much."

The body had been laid out on top of a desk, with all the books and documents previously occupying it put on the ground. It didn't really matter in the ways of making things messy, because the suite belonging to the recently deceased ambassador was already a dusty, chaotic mess. The room was dark and narrow and made even smaller by the bookshelves lined along one wall, stealing even more space. The carpet used to be gold and thick, but now it looked just worn and tired.

"Do we even have a plan? Like, anything in particular to look out for?"

Loki scratched his chin, looking around next to you. "Plans are for the weak of heart. We've got something better, love—a suspicion. Now we only have to find the evidence for or against it."

You looked at the shelves filled with old tomes to the point of almost breaking the wood. And then at the loose papers piled carelessly along two of the walls and also in the bedroom. The notes were haphazardly scribbled and left in places where a thought must've struck the man, and then left forgotten or lost. Ink was spilled on the less fortunate ones.

"...right."

You couldn't say you were happy about it, but there was little to do about it. Whatever the ambassador was working on before he died could shed some light on his death. Now you only had to find it.

With a deep sigh, you braced yourself and got to work.

It soon turned out you didn’t understand a single word of it.

"You said your spell would work and I would understand everything." You focused really hard on the wall of text in a language you'd never seen before. "And it works fine when I'm talking to the lords here, but not on this."

Loki leaned over your shoulder to peek a glance at the text. "I have no idea. Maybe it works differently on humans? Or maybe you're just a particularly weird individual of your species."

"Thanks."

"Welcome, love."

With nothing you could read, your job there was crippled. Even when Loki assured you he didn't mind doing everything himself and that it wasn't your fault, there was still a sour feeling you couldn't quite shake off.

"I'm going to see if I can find the kitchens and get us something edible." You decided to pass the time on something at least vaguely helpful.

Loki looked up from the notes he'd gathered from the windowsill. He’d made himself comfortable in one of the cleaner parts of the room, although unfortunately it just happened to be near the corpse. "Be careful. And please, don't kill anyone without me."

"I'd never," you promised with a wink and left.

The castle was huge, but empty. At first, you put in on the murder that must've shaken the people living there, but the longer you looked around, it struck you as odd. Everything was clean, even if touched by time. There must be people taking care of it, but you couldn't find any.

Or maybe they were avoiding the outsiders. Technically, you were an alien here.

You walked the empty corridors, enjoying the silent breeze passing through the open panels. It was strange not to see any glass in the windows, but with the weather so mild, there probably wasn't any temperature drop to worry about anyway.

There were shadows sneaking in the corners of your vision. They could be figments of your imagination and sense of wrongness of this place. They could be the things howling in the dark.

No. Thinking about that probably wasn't the wisest idea. In a place where thoughts apparently could shape reality, thinking merry, happy thoughts seemed like a much more rational option if one planned to survive and not be eaten by their own fears embodied. You had such plans, and even if Loki was convinced that you had absolutely no connection to magic unless it hit you in the face, it was better to stay cautious. And happy. What a lovely day it was, after all, with the creeping light avoiding particular parts of your vision, and something definitely following you. How nice would it be to meet someone. Anyone.

Your eyes wandered off into the gardens below, where the everlasting night was laying thick. A fountain shimmered in bluish speckles of water. And behind it, the night opened its eyes.

You might've jumped a little. Just the tiniest bit.

But there was no denying that, just for the briefest moment, your eyes met the Queen's, posed unnaturally still among the statues.

…and people said wishful thinking wouldn't get you anywhere.

You hopped over the railing, and onto the moss-covered ground. The guard you'd seen before was nowhere to be found. You stared around as hard as you could, trying to pierce the shadows and strange light. It took a moment to find what you were looking for.

From up close, the stars overhead and the stars shimmering on her skin looked like mirror images. For a moment, the night sky felt within a hand's reach.

Not one muscle betrayed the Queen had she noticed your arrival. Her eyes were dull and completely blank—to the point where you wondered if you hadn't imagined everything.

You stood right next to her and still weren't decapitated, which was a comfort and a good sign. You bowed stiffly, even if she didn't see it.

"Hi," you said quietly, looking for any sign of comprehension. "I'm one of the people who came here to explain the recent murder."

Nothing. Just the vast expanse of the night enclosed in a fading body and crumbled into a vaguely humanoid shape. The Queen only had one horn intact, white as a bone, and sharp like the crescent moon—the only one to ever be seen on the edge of the universe.

"I wondered if you knew anything about it," you tried again. "We're doing well so far, and I'm sure we'll find the murderer eventually, so don't worry about that, but… We'd still appreciate any and all help."

Birds chirped somewhere in the trees. Shimmering pollen flew on the light breeze squeezing through the thicket. The night turned her eyes toward you.

It'd been a while since you cowered under the sheets, afraid of the darkness. It was a common fear among children, and one that only a few grew out of. Those eyes reminded you of those sleepless nights.

Not a word left the bloodless lips. Not a muscle twitched. The edges of the woman blurred into the night.

"...right. Sorry to interrupt you, Your Majesty."

You backed away a few steps before turning your back to her. A shiver ran down your spine. If that was what fading was, you preferred death.

Loki enjoyed reading, he really did. Even as a child, he'd often been found buried among the old tomes in the palace's library, or smuggling particularly interesting ones to his rooms. There was something in the way of the written word that captured his attention way better than whatever training he was forced to participate in for the sake of Odin's misplaced ambition. There was a certain rush in learning facts previously unknown and in understanding the world or the forces in it better.

Loki felt absolutely none of that while going through the ambassador's notes.

Most of them were full of incomprehensible babble of half-finished ideas or references that led nowhere without the books they'd been taken from. Some seemed to be copied pages, which led Loki to the conclusion that the books were not to be taken off the library grounds.

There were a lot of dates and numbers that made little sense to him, so he put them down on the pile of things he deemed irrelevant to the investigation. The pile was growing and now consisted of several piles, forming the majority of the room's contents.

The doors opened. Loki was relieved to see you; the dagger disappeared back up his sleeve.

"That took you awhile," he noticed, throwing the crumbled papers to the right, onto the pile of nonsense. "I was getting worried."

"I'm good. I got you some apples."

The apples were a dusted orange, but tasted sweet enough to justify the unusual color. Loki leaned back in his chair and let you settle on his lap. The feeling of your body pressed into his made you share the warmth and comfort, and made some of the stress building up since morning fade away.

"I met the Queen," you said around a mouth full of apple, and the other hand buried in Loki's hair. "She seemed nice enough. The creepiness definitely runs in the family, though."

Some of the stress came back. "Did she… say anything?"

"Nope. I don't think she’s… aware of things. Which is a shame, because I seriously hoped she could help us."

Loki brushed your back in wide, soothing strokes. "There is a chance she'll regain her senses one day, just for long enough to answer some questions. Fading is a complicated process."

"You know a lot about it."

Loki's eyes dropped to the few remaining apples. "Gods fade too sometimes."

"Will you? One day?"

"I am a Frost Giant, love, even if I was raised on Asgard. I'm not sure how much that complicates my case, and there is no one to ask about it anymore."

"I'm sorry."

Loki closed his eyes and breathed in your scent as he felt you kiss his temple, gently and with enough unfiltered love to make his heart throb almost painfully. He was lucky, even despite the mess politics brought onto him. He was luckier than he ever thought he'd be. And luckier than he thought he deserved.

"Did you find anything interesting?" you asked with a face burrowed into the crook of his neck.

"There was quite a lot of nonsense, but the rest highlights the ambassador's interest in the wars and mass deaths that always follow them."

You froze. The corpse laid on the desk next to you no longer felt like something you could forget about. "...what an interesting guy. "

"Most definitely, but it's too early to judge just yet. I made a list of the books he mentioned most often. I think it'd be worth our time to pay a visit to the library to check them out and maybe ask a few questions to the people working there. They should know something about him and the dead assistant."

"We could get some more apples on our way," you offered, standing up. Loki already missed you.

"Sure, why not. It's not like you'd take the fruit of the sacred trees from the very clearly separated part of the gardens, right?"

"...of course. I'd never overlook that."

You did overlook that in the end, and Loki just happened to overlook it too. Overlooking things was always more fun in good company.

The gardens were a beautiful, lush place, bursting with colors and leaves that danced on the wind instead of falling. Some of the branches were covered in flowers so tiny they looked like ants, traveling up and down the bark. Birds too shy to leave the shadows chirped and sung.

It was a strange change to witness, especially having in mind what the gardens were like in the morning. Whatever put them in a good mood had clearly done a good job. It made the winding paths easier to follow, and the water passing through the fountain shimmer like starlight.

Loki shrugged when you voiced your thoughts.

"In your world, the weather changes just as rapidly," he said, looking at his mirrored image. "Here, it's the very essence of the Edge that's capable of changing."

It was poetic, like most things on the Edge. And just like them, the forest suddenly decided to hate you.

First, the birds vanished, their voices cut short.

Then, something else moved between the curled, twisted trees. Loki noticed too, and handed you one of his knives. The knives had a habit of appearing around him in just the right moments, and you loved them for it.

And finally, the Edge decided how to make your lives difficult this time.

The monstrosity that circled the fountain was a terror of thin legs and bulky torso, armed with too many teeth.

"Is it a spider?" you asked in a voice too high because of your heart leaping into your throat.

"It could be, if someone really hated spiders," Loki said, but there was a smile on his face. "And it might present a problem, if we were still on Earth—but now I'm free and ready to deal with this the old-fashioned way."

You blinked when golden light enveloped him in a flash. The green armor poured onto his body while magic danced around his fingers. The golden helmet you'd seen only once in the battle of New York, now returned in its full glory.

You cheered as Loki stepped out, swinging a spear with a nonchalant ease only available to children forced to learn something for years against their will.

"Kick its ass, babe!"

Loki winked.

The creature didn't want to have its ass kicked. It charged on its eight legs reaching far and fast. Loki striked, gutting its belly and cutting two legs off. It should've died, but it didn't. The cuts should've killed it, but they healed.

Loki's magic should've blocked the furious mass hurtling itself at him. It didn't.

The spell flashed a blinding yellow before it cracked like glass and shattered. The legs that were no longer cut, they hit and didn't miss.

A gold-and-green body flew through the air with a very surprised face. The fountain crashed in a rain of water and marble, covering everything in a thin layer of dust and a thick one of mud quickly forming under your feet.

"...Loki?"

Loki didn't answer, half buried under the stone.

The spider turned its too big head to you. Its legs were black and covered in thick stubble.

"Shit," you whispered.

The spider agreed.

You ran.

#please hate me #loki x reader #loki x you #loki imagine #loki laufeyson x reader #loki laufeyson x you #loki laufeyson #loki laufeyson imagine #loki marvel #loki mcu #loki laufeyson marvel #loki series #i love loki #loki fanfic

160 notes · View notes

seyaryminamoto · 3 years

Note

One of the big things about "The Beach" to me is that it seems to suggest that Zuko may be the least empathetic among the Fire teens. Azula shows the most empathy to her brother and her friends, Ty Lee shows the second most, Mai the third most, and Zuko the least. So the point of the episode was to portray the three girls sympathetically while highlighting Zuko's limitations. The issue then is that they never really went back to Zuko's lack of empathy. Thoughts?

Eh, well... the show refuses to go back on a lot of Zuko’s exposed flaws, no matter how they may be highlighted and shown as a problem, so I guess I’d just say what’s one more, in the end, among a pile of many unresolved personal issues? :’D

I think some people would try to argue that Azula wasn’t empathetic at all, but I’d say the key element in these regards is that Azula seemed to backtrack at least once with Ty Lee when she apologizes to her after reducing her friend to tears with her harsh words. It’s fair enough that Azula was very insulting, but she takes it back quickly and admits she knows what her actual problem is, implying there’s self-reflection, self-awareness and remorse enough to not only acknowledge her behavior was out of place, but to know why she impulsively acted the way she did.

Meanwhile, Zuko mocks and calls Ty Lee a circus freak (and, yes, Azula laughs about it), and nothing he says suggests he regrets hurting her. That, honestly, is the core of the problem as far as I can tell: maybe Zuko felt bad for saying what he did? But nowhere in the episode will you find him saying it aloud, which is the typical Zuko issue: more than once he does genuine damage with his actions or words to real people, whether people who were kind to him or people who should be important to him, and he barely ever vocalizes any apologies or remorse for those actions. Heck, right after insulting Ty Lee he tries to rile up Mai to fight Ty Lee because she insulted Mai’s aura? And all of it really is reduced to “he’s angry at himself”. See... I don’t mind the explanation one bit. But I do mind that he not only faces next to no consequences for that behavior (since merely acknowledging what he’s angry about is no actual display of remorse for how he behaved), but he also displays no signs of change or wanting to act differently, and the whole thing’s swept under a rug just because his firebending outburst looks very cool and dramatic. Thus, yes, it’s very easy to conclude, as you did, that Zuko lacks empathy and fails to recognize this as a problem altogether.

Though I will disagree with you in one regard and that is Mai. I... don’t think she displayed any empathy, frankly. She’s more down-to-earth than the others, I’d say, but the way she talks to both Azula and Ty Lee doesn’t really suggest any empathy to me. She’s adamant about making sure Zuko knows she’s mad at him, and while she kisses him at the end, it’s not some sort of “omg I’m so sorry Zuko I didn’t stop to think about your feelings :(((” sort of kiss, it’s a way of showing him she cares about him even if he’s a trainwreck... which, sure, might make Zuko happier, but it doesn’t necessarily mean she “understands” him or is particularly invested in helping him out of his cycle of self-hatred.

I guess that’s one potential factor why Zuko and Mai are so conflictive in canon, I don’t think either one is particularly empathetic with the other -- or with anyone else, maybe except Iroh in Zuko’s case, and only in Book 3. This is certainly why the two of them really should grow up, A LOT, before being in a relationship, but I suppose it’s one thing where ATLA is ironically terrible and brilliant simultaneously: they don’t sugarcoat how conflictive they can be, the way a fanfic writer might reduce their problems to nothingness and absolute irrelevance just because they ship it. So their relationship is absolutely not “romance goals”, but it feels like a genuine teenage romance because of that.

Still, that’s not what we’re talking about: I agree on the most part, Anon, though I suspect the conclusion you’ve reached, and that many of us can and will reach, isn’t quite what the writers and showrunners intended for us to conclude with that episode. We’ve always heard that Book 3 was supposed to feature a storyline about Azula being arranged in marriage to someone, a plotline that was scrapped because she would have had far more focus than they could afford giving her (and what a mistake that was xD). This episode is said to be a minimized version of that plotline, to explore these characters and their dynamics (as well as introducing the factor of Combustion Man’s hunt of Aang, which starts in this episode), only, it may have highlighted a few issues with the characters (especially with Zuko) that simply aren’t dealt with properly, probably because this episode wasn’t intended to do that. Sadly, many episodes weren’t intended to do that with Zuko :’)

A lot of people have criticized The Beach for a myriad of reasons, most of all that the episode is “meaningless filler” (I couldn’t disagree more, but not everyone can appreciate downtime for characters, not even when it expands your understanding of who they are), or that the Fire Nation gang shouldn’t be framed as a happy group of friends we all should love when they vandalized and burned down a house just because they were mad at perfectly innocent (if dumb) teenagers :’D but I guess maybe one secret reason some Zuko fans might not be happy with this episode is that it really doesn’t paint him in a good light altogether and they’re appalled by that?

Either way, I genuinely enjoy this episode because it humanized the characters, I’d say, and whether that humanization was flattering or not isn’t quite the most important element of the character work that was done this time. I guess I’ll spiral back to what I said above with Mai and Zuko: the show doesn’t sugarcoat the problems these four have, just as it doesn’t attempt to resolve them. Would I rather it had resolved them, at least a few of them? Personally, yes, though I doubt they could have done it in the span of a single episode. At the same time, I’m glad they didn’t hide these problems in the characters because they easily could have, so I’m grateful they didn’t do that. As usual, the problem with Zuko lies in the fact that a lot of people credit him with growth he never did, and values that he never displayed, that we would have to assume he learned just because he’s a better person now, not so much because we have solid evidence that proves he learned them at all. So it’s yet another issue with his character, and another thorn that pokes out of his redemption arc that shows it’s absolutely not as perfect and well-rounded as most his fans (and a lot of ATLA viewers) have convinced themselves it is.

#anon #I am sorry to everyone waiting for a reply #because I have been #a little consumed by a little story that isn't little at all #and well...#my heart's breaking in a million ways every day #might as well answer now before I start the mandatory waterworks tonight #sorry again for the delay <3

35 notes · View notes

huxandthehound · 4 years

Text

Why Levi is Still Going to Kill Zeke and Why it Matters

Levi is going to kill Zeke.

You can’t change my mind.

I’ve seen and heard a lot of stuff going around recently. None of it has been rude or angry, just lots of people writing off Levi’s role in the story going forward. And I can understand that to some degree. The series is quickly coming to a close and we’re in the endgame now. (Sorry, I had to.) Levi has been sidelined for over a year. Zeke is absolutely no longer the Big Bad. But none of this means we can throw away a character’s entire motivation because we hear the orchestra warming up to play everyone off the stage.

We haven’t seen Zeke in eight chapters. We haven’t seen Levi do much of anything since getting blown up in chapter 114. Their relevance to the story is seemingly diminishing month by month. Zeke has been, presumably, lying in a pile of rubble or (insert your favorite theory here), and Levi has been getting hauled around Paradis like a small child on a family road trip. Neither of them has done anything remotely relevant, at least in regards to the current state of things with Eren, in a very long time. However, there is one thing Levi has done since then. And he’s done it multiple times: reiterate how much he wants to kill Zeke.

THE PROMISE

The entire reason we’re talking about this is because of something that happened way back in chapter 80. In a grand gesture amongst the chaos and devastation Zeke himself was raining down on them, Levi knelt before Erwin and lifted the weight of his dream from his shoulders. And simultaneously vowed to kill the Beast Titan.

Now, Levi never explicitly swears to Erwin. He never really uses the words “promise” or “vow.” But Levi knew the intent behind his actions, even if his words didn’t convey it, and that kneeling implied his solemnity and dedication to his goal and the commander. And within just a few hours, perhaps less, he reiterates the intent behind his words: “I swore to him that I’d kill you no matter what.”

Interesting choice of words.

I think the “no matter what” is an important addition. This is clearly something he’s added on his own. Unless we’re missing parts of his speech to Erwin, he doesn’t say this, but he clearly thinks it’s implied and is going to hold himself to it.

This is the point where Levi fees the brunt of his words to Erwin. This is the turning point for him, the point of no return, where he begins to feel the effects of his promise that will reverberate well into the future.

Levi does not seem like the type of person to make a promise lightly. He never minces his words or says anything he doesn’t mean. That’s just not who he is. We know this. And not only did he make a promise, he’s recalled it multiple times over the years, reminded himself over and over again of his last words to Erwin. They meant something. They weren’t some hollow promise, some death bed appeasement. Levi fully intends to carry through with it. No matter what.

THE FLASHBACK

After chaperoning a presumably very annoying Zeke at their secure location in the forest for about a month, Levi gets an update regarding the goings on at headquarters. He is not pleased with what he hears, and decides on his own to change the plans and, in the process, kill Zeke.

It doesn’t take long for Levi to make this decision, perhaps because the thought of not only killing Zeke but simultaneously maintaining the power of the Beast Titan is too hard to pass up. Perhaps it’s because the plan would ultimately result in Zeke’s death that helps him come to the conclusion so quickly. I also presume the thought has crossed his mind innumerable times during his stay with Zeke, and he just needed a little encouragement.

Then, he recalls in depressingly accurate detail the vow he made to Erwin, four years later. It’s so knee jerk. It happens so quickly and seamlessly, like Levi has been haunted by this for years, that he’s always had this nagging thought in the back of his mind subconsciously affecting his decision making.

“Erwin, It looks like I’ll finally be able to fulfill the vow I made to you that day.”

The fact that Levi sees the scene from an outside perspective, and not the images of Erwin’s face from below as Levi has recalled before, I believe is important to his memory. It’s not just his words that meant something that day. His words, actually, weren’t the binding part. The fact that he bent the knee to Erwin is what signifies his commitment, and he is reminding himself of his actions that day.

He also says “finally.” These are the words of a man who has thought about this moment for a very long time. I can sense the relief Levi must be feeling when he says this. This thing that he’s wanted so badly to do but has been putting off because of a sense of duty. This is Levi’s “fuck it” moment, when he decides he’s just going to bend the rules a bit, still play along, and get what he wants.

I have a feeling Levi is also recalling the last time he was closest to killing Zeke: in Liberio. It would have been so easy to slice a little too deep or misplace his explosives. The look on Levi’s face in chapter 103 certainly leads me to believe he perhaps tried a little harder than was necessary. Zeke even calls him out on it in the air ship. Levi wasn’t acting. Their battle as a whole might have been a farce, but Levi was taking his frustrations out on Zeke and going through the motions, only to stop just short of his goal.

“Finally,” Levi thinks. This time he’s got a plan that he can see through to the end. No more faking it. No more holding back.

His vow has also seemed to become a little clearer, at least to himself, over the years. Back in Shiganshina, Levi was livid. He’s had time to more fully grasp what his vow truly means, what it stands for. He promised Erwin he would kill the Beast Titan, and while I’m sure most of his hatred is because Zeke killed Erwin specifically, Levi also recalls his other fallen comrades. The ones that died to get them to this point, the soldiers whose deaths Zeke is directly responsible for. And then, as if he didn’t have reason enough to go after Zeke, within just minutes of this flashback, Levi is forced to end the lives of thirty of his comrades.

Another nail in Zeke’s—hopefully literal—coffin.

IN HIS OWN WORDS

Levi knows what he needs to do for his people and the greater good of humanity, and as such, he can’t allow himself to follow through with his promise just yet. He’s waiting—not patiently, but he is waiting—for the perfect moment, one that aligns with his desires and Paradis’ needs. And he’s not hiding it from Zeke.

It’s almost become a running, unfunny joke at this point, for both Zeke and the audience. (I feel like Levi is not as appreciative of these instances as we might be.)

It all starts in chapter 81 when Levi is essentially speaking directly to Zeke after he gets scooped up by the Cart Titan. “I swore to him that I’d kill you no matter what.” He’s telling Zeke. Whether Zeke can hear him as he gets carried away is one thing, but this is ground zero for Levi telling Zeke exactly what he’s going to do to him.

Chronologically, our next on screen instance—though I’m sure there are more we are never shown—is in chapter 105. Zeke is the one to bring it up this time. It’s unclear where he’s gotten this information from, but he knows Levi is still hell-bent on killing him, especially based on what Zeke considers to have been a convincing display in Liberio. Levi ends that conversation with one of my favorite taunts, which I’m going to delve into shortly.

Then, at the tail end of chapter 106 and to help close out the volume, we have a little snippet from what I’m sure was a terribly uncomfortable carriage ride with Levi and Zeke. Levi deflects the conversation away from the supposed victory in Liberio to tell Zeke that he’s going to “kill [him], send [his] corpse to Marley, and reveal everything about [his] plot.” Subtlety has never been Levi’s strong suit. He ends it by telling Zeke, “I wouldn’t mind waiting a little longer before slicing you to pieces.” Levi is more than aware that there is a certain order this all needs to happen in, but no matter how long he has to wait, it will not make him lose sight of his end goal.

THE EVIDENCE

Levi has shown us time after time that he has never given up on his promise. That he will stop at nothing to fulfill it. That he will go so far as to defy direct orders to achieve his goals. Everything is telling us that it’s actually going to happen.

Levi’s first move in twelve chapters, after he wakes up from getting knocked out by the thunder spear, is to promptly call Zeke a “piece of shit” and ask where he is. Keep in mind this is after hearing Eren’s apocalyptic broadcast, and Levi’s focus is still on Zeke. True, Hange and Levi are a bit out of the loop at this point in regards to Zeke’s involvement in Eren’s plan. But the point still stands. Levi is hyper focused on his enemy from the moment he wakes up.

Then, as if it weren’t clear enough, Levi says it again, more plainly, to Magath and Pieck the following day: “My goal is to kill Zeke.” Levi’s motives and goals are not up for interpretation, and he’s not just saying this to appease them either. Magath has his sights on Levi, quite literally, and Levi couldn’t care less. He’s blunt and to the point, as always. He also takes personal ownership of the goal. I think at this point he is slowly starting to come to the realization that he is going to follow through with this no matter what anyone else says. He doesn’t have orders to kill Zeke on sight. He definitely doesn’t have orders to transfer the Beast Titan. But his goal, his mission at this exact moment, is to kill Zeke. And if he has to team up with people to get shit done, he’ll do it. But he’s not hiding his intentions, and I doubt he would even if their goals didn’t align.

Since all of these events, it’s only been a few days, and nothing is going to change Levi’s mind in that short period of time. He’s held onto this promise—this vow to a dead man—for years. I’m not under the impression that Levi is going to suddenly change his mind because of a few new developments and one very cryptic line from a tall blonde woman that I’m pretty sure he hates.

One thing that Levi says that has always stuck out to me is his eagerness to clarify to Zeke when he plans on killing him: “Not yet.” I know this could be Levi just further emphasizing his ultimate goal (kind of a “don’t mistake my kindness for weakness” sort of thing), but I can’t help but feel like it’s also a nod to the audience. Levi doesn't need to tell Zeke he won’t kill him yet; he knows that. Zeke knows Levi can’t kill him yet, not in the middle of the forest for no good reason without having a titan nearby. The “not yet” seems a little too heavy handed to me, and for that reason I like to cling onto it for dear life.

Additionally there are a few context clues, if you will, that lead me to believe we’re getting set up for the ultimate showdown between Zeke and Levi.

One of my favorite lines from Levi is when he tells Zeke, “I like to save the best parts of my meal for last.” (Levi used taunt; it was super effective.) That line is peak Levi and just everything I want and expect out of any of his interactions with Zeke. I think it might be a little deeper than that though. My interpretation, from a literary perspective, is that this is foreshadowing disguised as snark. I would not be surprised if this is insinuating that perhaps the very last thing Levi will do in this story is kill Zeke. That he’ll kill Zeke or die trying.

I also think that this being one of the last things Levi does would allow him to appreciate his accomplishment. To “savor the taste,” so to speak. I’m not sure what Levi really has to live for if they all come out of this on the other side. We don’t get a lot of insight into his life over these last four years, but I’m willing to bet he feels a little aimless. Killing Zeke would be one of the last things that Levi really feels needs to be done, one last regret to eliminate before he dies. I believe once he’s done that, he’ll be able to move on, and he might be able to rest. I unfortunately don’t see any future for Levi post-war that includes him having closure or relaxing or anything of the sort. This may be his only way out.

If you want to look a little deeper, past Levi’s bluntness, the “no matter what” Levi throws in back in chapter 81 is another thing that piques my interest. Lots of people have pointed out that Levi has also said he’d be the one to kill Eren if he gets out of line (chapter 18). Clearly those parameters have been met. But what happens when Levi’s duty, in a sense, is overshadowed by this promise? The moment Levi said that he’d kill Zeke no matter what, he voided every other task he ever signed up for. I think this is no exception. Is Eren about to kill a bunch of people? Probably. Should Levi be more concerned with Eren at this point than Zeke? Definitely.

I don’t disagree that Levi does seem pretty single minded at this point in the story. But I’m finding it hard to blame him or say it’s a “bad” thing to have happen to him. While fulfilling this promise has become somewhat of an obsession for him, he’s always maintained his professionalism and focus on saving humanity first. He was able to control himself in Shiganshina, in Liberio, in the forest when lord knows Zeke was getting on Levi’s every last nerve. However, the odds are stacked against him now. And if Levi’s going to do it, he’s got to do it now.

Lastly, something that most recently caught my attention was something Zeke says in chapter 113. He’s having a one-sided dialogue with Levi while Levi attempts to escape the 30 titans Zeke has just sicced on him, though I’m sure Levi can hear none of it. “You thought you had strength…” Zeke begins. “Time. Choices. It was those foolish beliefs… Levi… they were your downfall.” Now we know Levi comes out of this battle victorious, if only for a moment. But if we look at this “downfall” of Levi’s to mean only that he was taken advantage of and not that he was doomed, as Zeke obviously thinks, if we accept that Levi ultimately lost this battle in the sense that he also lost his comrades and the fragile plan they had, we’re left to wonder what would then aid in Levi’s eventual salvation...

Look where we are currently. Levi has, presumably, lost his strength. He is injured and weak. Levi has run out of time. Eren is rumbling the world and Levi’s days aren’t getting any longer. He’s also run out of choices. The path laid out before them is bleak: stop Eren or let the world end. Maybe knowing he has none of these things will be to Levi’s advantage. Maybe that will be what causes him to ultimately make the decision to kill Zeke. He doesn’t have the capability to take down a crazed, Eren dinosaur, but he might have it in him for one last fight with a bearded bastard. He doesn’t have the time to save the world, but he’s got just enough time to fight one guy. And Eren has pretty much made the decision for everyone about how to move forward, and Levi can take that as the last sign he needs to say “fuck loyalty” and collect the Beast’s head.

THE SHOWDOWN

Everything before this was just reasons why Levi is going to be the one to finish Zeke. I feel like we don’t have as many clues as to how he’s going to accomplish this.

I know what comes up a lot in the discussions about Levi’s relevance at this point is the story is his current state, his health and his injuries. I think that’s what makes it interesting, though.

Yes, Levi is injured. But so is Zeke.

We’ll go with the idea that Zeke isn’t stuck in the endless sandbox that is paths. (It’s just easier not to think about all of that...) But the last time we see Zeke in the real world, he’s got a chunk missing out his back. I’m also pretty sure he’s unfortunately placed at the bottom of the walls, which don’t exist anymore. Side effects of this may include death by trampling or being buried under a pile of rubble.

And then we have Levi. Poor, tired, depressed, so done with everyone’s shit Levi Ackerman who honestly would just like to kill Zeke and move on with his life.

Levi is injured. Levi has no gear. Levi is missing two fingers and, very likely, half his eyesight.

However, Levi is Levi. He is nothing if not tenacious and driven. He will make this work. With his bare hands, if that’s what it necessitates.

And I think that’s what it’ll come to.

Zeke has known this day was coming for years and has been under no illusion that he has ever been truly safe from Levi. He knew that he was only spared by Paradis’ need to keep him alive. Their banter is evidence enough of this; Zeke knows his days are numbered. Now, with the world literally crumbling around them, there isn’t much holding Levi back. And Zeke, for his part, has had his dreams ripped out from beneath him while watching his dear little brother betray him and choose to rumble the world. He’s not got much left to live for.

Now, I won’t get into speculating where or when this fight will take place. Over the last month or so, since chapter 129, I’ve been (only half-jokingly) arguing for the theory that Levi may have slipped off of his booster seat on Uber Pieck and remained on the island. Which would obviously make it easier for him to find Zeke or Zeke to find him. If Levi is indeed on the ship (proof where??), then that means the alliance will need to cross paths with Zeke on their way to Eren. Which I suppose is plausible too. We haven’t seen Zeke in quite some time, so who’s to say what he’s been able to get himself into—or out of—in the time being.

So, while it might take a little footwork to get Levi and Zeke in range of each other once more, I wouldn’t exactly count it out.

Regardless of how it happens, the next time these two meet will be far from uneventful. Levi is angry. Levi is resentful. He won’t let Zeke get away again.

I can see another epic Levi panel, similar to the iconic “Kenny!” we get in chapter 57, as he happens upon Zeke one last time. Imagine. Levi rolling up to an oblivious Zeke, calling him “Beardy” or “piece of shit” as the bandages fall away from his face from the force of yelling. We’ll be treated to what I imagine will be Levi’s final form, a presumably partially blind and sliced up version of himself, with rage in his eyes that’s only exacerbated by this damaged façade.

There’s the alternative to this, too, in which Levi heals quickly, perhaps some Ackerman magic as Hange pointed out. He is no longer bloodied, but scarred. Levi may even know this and might just be biding his time under the bandages and only pretending to be unable to fight. I feel like this scenario would horrify Zeke even more, though he needs no help in that department. We already know he’s terrified of the Ackermans.

In either scenario, Zeke will perhaps let his inherent hubris get the best of him, and, seeing Levi weaponless, let his guard down, as he is wont to do. Zeke knows they’re both injured, down for the count. Even if Levi has healed a bit, I have no doubt there will be lasting effects to his injuries. He’s not a kid; he’s older and battered and incredibly tired.

I’m predicting Zeke will remain in his human form. He may be too injured to shift. Or perhaps timing is everything and he might be relieved of his titan curse at a very inopportune moment. My favorite theory would be that in Zeke’s infinite wisdom and pride, he’ll perhaps decide that he’s oh-for-two in Beast vs. Levi fights and maybe he should take Levi on mano a mano.

Ah, Zeke. But Levi is no man.

Imagine, a titan and an Ackerman, both reduced to their most basic selves.

I think we’re going to have ourselves a good old-fashioned fist fight.

Levi knows he’s in a bad state. He’s under no illusions about his health. But we know his heart will be in it. And where Zeke may think this is a level playing field, he will be sorely mistaken.

I just think we’ve seen all we need to see as far as Levi fighting titans is concerned. He goes a little feral, slices them up easily. But Levi fighting Zeke as Zeke, not as the Beast Titan, will inject a little reality into the fight. It’ll allow Levi to really see his enemy, and while it might not make him hold back, we might see Levi get a little more introspective about the whole thing. Maybe the fight is slow. Maybe it’s a bit lousy. I’m not sure how much gas either of them has left in the tank. I can see these two throwing around more words than punches at this point, but blood will be drawn. We’ll have a little more breathing room to take in what’s happening, and, hey, who knows? This might be a good time for one last Erwin flashback.

Levi might have one last knife up his sleeve, a timeless Choice with No Regrets weapon brandishing, one last fancy flourish of his blade before lodging it in Zeke’s gut. Preferably his lower left quadrant. For reasons.

But I think that’s what we need. A messy, emotional fight. No titans. No gear or gas or swords. One last chance for Levi to give Zeke his comeuppance. One last chance to showcase this Ackerman strength that Zeke has been so terrified of and which he has never actually seen the full force of. Levi has been holding back to some extent during each of their fights. He had to. But no more.

Ultimately, Levi will kill Zeke and, in the process, himself.

He’ll fulfill his vow, and he’ll get to rest. Finally.

BUT WHAT’S THE POINT?

Why does it matter? Why does Levi have to kill Zeke?

Ultimately, it’s all about Levi.

Firstly, I love Levi. I think it’s safe to say a lot of people do. And I don’t think it’s a stretch for me to say that we’d like to see him squeeze one last ounce of goodness out of his life.

I believe it would be in very bad taste for Isayama to kill Levi as he stands (or sits) now, broken and sidelined and helpless. That’s not who Levi is as a character. And that’s how you waste a perfectly good scar. So his options are to stop Eren or kill Zeke. And I personally believe there are far better people than Levi suited for the job of stopping Eren, both physically and narratively (cough Reiner cough). Though I don’t deny it would be nice to see Levi have a role in taking Eren down, however bittersweet that may be for him, and us.

But let’s look at where we currently stand. I’m not sure about how everyone else feels at this point in the story, but chapter 130 gave me some interesting vibes. This feels like the second act of an action/horror movie, where the ensemble gathers around a campfire or a lamp in a darkened home, and admits defeat. They look around wearily and kind of decide they’re just going to do whatever the hell they want to do because the world is going to end tomorrow or the zombies are going to break down the door by morning. Obviously, most of our remaining characters want to help, but I can’t help but feel some intrusive feelings of… despair? Obviously most of these feelings are coming from Annie, and Hange is admittedly trying to keep her around. But the zombies are breaking down the door. The Colossals are trampling the mainland. I’m not sure the alliance would have it in them to force Annie to stay, even though they could absolutely use her titan powers to help fight this war.

But when posed with the question “Should Levi be allowed to abandon ship (literally) and go make good on his own promise?” the answer always seems to be “absolutely not.” Levi is denied his dreams. Because people expect better of him. Which is valiant, I suppose, for us to think he’s above that pettiness. But I think most people aren’t really examining his character as a whole.

Points can be made that his drive to kill Zeke is a devolution in his character, that his tunnel vision has changed him and he isn’t the same person with the same goals and motivations as he used to be. On one hand I say: Good. This isn’t a fairytale. This is Attack on Titan. Flawed characters are good. Character development, in any direction, is good for the story. (I mean, have you met Eren?) On the other hand I say: This is who Levi has always been. He’s never been the “good” guy. This is the same man who was called a madman and didn’t deny it. I don’t believe we’re necessarily seeing a different side to him but more of what makes Levi himself is coming to the forefront.

Levi is in his mid- to late-twenties when he joins the Survey Corps. His time underground up until that point had been less than desirable. We all know the story, and it’s not a pretty one. Watching his mother die. Being raised, then abandoned, by Kenny. Followed by who knows how many years of struggling to survive on his own before he found his family with Furlan and Isabel. And even then, it wasn’t easy. Levi is a flawed, fully developed character when we meet him. He is violent and imperfect and deadly. The man tortured someone without blinking. I think wanting him to forego this instinct that he’s known his whole life, in favor of some more angelic or heroic outcome, is a bit too optimistic. It’s almost disingenuous.

Levi isn’t going to be the big hero of this story.

I know... I’d like him to be too, in a sense. But that’s going to fall on our other protagonists. It’s going to be the kids’ tasks to slay the bad guys and tie up the loose ends.

The only reason Levi even began caring about humanity is because of Erwin, and now Erwin is gone. Levi may have found a greater purpose with Erwin and the Survey Corps, but that didn’t change who he was, who he has always been. Letting Levi follow through with his vengeful dreams won’t make him any less of a character. If anything, it’ll cement who he truly is, which is someone that I think most people have forgotten about.

But who knows. Maybe Levi is to be denied, one last time, forever frustrated and regretful. Maybe that’s what Isayama is getting at. Maybe he’s trolling us. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time. Maybe we’ll have all this build up only to get the rug pulled out from under us. Sike, Levi isn’t going to kill Zeke. No dreams will be fulfilled here. Wrong manga.

However, I choose to remain cautiously optimistic. This will very likely be the denouement to Levi’s arc. Let him go down in a blaze of fiery revenge if he so chooses. He’s earned it.

#levi ackerman #zeke yeager #snk meta #snk spoilers #snk #my writing #my meta #snk 130 #snk analysis

209 notes · View notes

brywrites · 4 years

Text

Partners in Crime

A/N: This is one of the earliest Reid x Reader stories I wrote and never published, and I figured, why not? Reid and the Reader often go undercover as a couple to bait an unsub, and this time things don’t quite go as planned. CW: for non-consensual behavior, mild physical abuse, reference to rape

It’s always the two of them. She figures it’s because they’re so close in age, and such good friends. After months of working together, and plenty of free time spent hanging out, the chemistry comes naturally. Whenever there’s a case involving couples, and the profile alone isn’t enough, she and Reid end up masquerading as boyfriend and girlfriend, husband and wife, all varieties of people madly in love with each other. Sometimes it’s enough to just lure out an unsub, twice they’ve been kidnapped, but never for long. They do good work together. Garcia has even taking to calling them Partners in Crime, or The Dream Team.

Deep down she knows it’s not just her profiling abilities or friendship with Spencer that allows her to play the part so well. That chemistry has become absolutely natural, too much so. Long after the game is done, she finds herself stealing glances at him, staying up late at night wondering what it would be like to really be in love with him. It’s an impossible dream. Reid is brilliant, handsome, and her co-worker. Strictly off limits. And yet those fantasies continue with every smile he gives her, and a part of her hopes that maybe, maybe…

“Baltimore PD have requested our help with a serial killer,” Hotch announces in the conference room. “Over the last six months, six people have kidnapped and murdered. There’s evidence of torture and sexual sadism, though preliminary ME reports don’t indicate any sign of rape.”

“Why would they think it’s consensual?” JJ asks, skeptical. They’ve encountered incompetent medical examiners before.

“Because of the victims he chooses,” the unit chief says, nodding at Garcia to move to the next slide. Six photos pop up on screen, in groups of two. “Jeremy and Renee Lagher, Tyrone and Nina Davenport, and Louisa and Ryan Sheffield.”

From across the room, Y/N catches Reid’s eye, the two of them realizing where this is likely headed. “He’s using married couples,” Rossi observes. “Is there any indication to how he finds his victims?”

“Social networking,” Garcia chimes in. The internet has made it all too easy for predators to hunt. Oversharing can be fatal. “The couples all used Instagram, had no privacy settings, and shared photos that made it clear they were married. Their last posts were just before they went missing, and all of them used the location feature to check-in at a local restaurant.” The team throws out ideas and questions, possibilities about how he finds them and why he chooses them. It seems to be the general consensus that he must stake out the restaurant, and wait for the couple to leave after dinner.

Y/N is distracted through the discussion, unable to ignore the feeling that there’s something Hotch is keeping from them. Sure enough, the chief has one last thing to add before they get ready to head out. “Given the lack of evidence and how this unsub targets his victims, I’ve spoken with the Baltimore PD and we’ve come to the conclusion that the best way to find him is bait him. Reid, Y/L/N, are you up for this?”

The question is less of a request, more rhetorical in nature. What choice do they have? It’s their job to hunt down criminals, no matter what it takes to find them. And so they agree. On the plane, once the briefing is complete, the go about preparing for the undercover work. Garcia has worked some Photoshop magic, pulling stock photos and personal pictures alike to create two different accounts for Spencer and Y/N Fitzgerald. Over time they’ve gotten into the habit of choosing last names inspired by famous literary and scientific couples. Scrolling through the one created for her, she tries to memorize the details. They’ve been married for two years, they live just west of Baltimore in a studio apartment, they have a cat. She is a librarian, he’s a high school chemistry teacher.

Since no other couples have been reported missing, the police want them to get to work as soon as possible. That evening, she slips on a black dress and a pair of heels, her hair and makeup done much nicer than she would typically take the time for. If this is going to work, she needs to look the part. Reid is waiting for her in the lobby of their hotel, wearing a simple suit and a smile that widens at the sight of her. “You look beautiful,” he tells her.

“Thanks.” She can feel herself blushing, and reminds herself that this is all a part of the game, of the job. None of this is real. Still, when he holds out his hand for her to take, she can’t push back the happiness that bursts in her chest. They walk the few blocks to the restaurant that way, close enough that their shoulders touch. Once he’s put in a reservation, they stand in the dim light of the waiting area to take a photo. Reid wraps his arm around her, holding her close to his side. At the last second, he presses a kiss to her temple just as she snaps a photo on her phone.

“How was that?” he asks. Too good, she thinks. In the picture they look just like a couple, very much in love. It’s soon posted to Instagram, documented along with the rest of their fake relationship. She adds their location just as a waiter comes to whisk them away to a table. Dinner is wonderful, filled with long gazes and laughter and moments where his knee will bump hers, or her fingers will rest over his hand just a little too long. This is just a show, just in case the unsub is lying in wait somewhere inside. It’s a damn good performance, more convincing than it needs to be. Does she really need to look at him that way? Does he really need to give her that devastating grin? They steal all these small moments for themselves, lingering in a soft state of bliss.

It’s only temporary, and soon enough they’re on their way out the door once more. “I’m surprised you weren’t able to meet with your friend,” he says, trying to sound casual. Every so often his eyes dart along the sidewalk, trying to check their surroundings without making it obvious he’s looking.

“Me too, but I suppose plans can always change.”

Reid starts to respond, but the words never come. Instead, a hand clamps over her mouth, and something cold presses hard against her head. Metal, round. The barrel of a gun. “Do what I say,” a voice growls. “Or she dies.” Neither of them are armed, and he has no choice but to comply. A man in a ski mask leads them to a dark colored sedan, yanking open the door of the backseat. Before shoving them inside, he reaches into the pocket of Reid’s suit jacket to extract his cell phone. The device, along with her purse, is tossed onto the sidewalk, leaving them no way to contact the team as the car speeds away.

It’s hard to say for sure how much time has passed since they’ve arrived in the dingy cellar. Hours at least, though not a whole day. The room is dirty and cold, and Reid insists on giving her his jacket. He holds her hand still, and that small amount of physical contact is a silent promise between them that everything is going to be okay. They haven’t heard from their captor since the abduction. Does the team know they’re missing? Is Garcia trying to track them down? What’s going to happen to them?

The metal door swings open, and the man enters. His mask is gone, revealing a middle-aged white man. He is balding with a cruel sneer and empty eyes. One hand holds a gun, the other a bag surely full of the tools he tortures his victims with. Their profile was spot on. “Here’s how this is going to go,” he says. “I’m going to give you instructions. You will comply exactly. If you refuse, or mess up, I’ll kill you. If you try to escape, I’ll kill you. Do you understand?” They both nod. “Good. Kiss your husband, Mrs. Fitzgerald.”

“How do you know our name?” Reid demands, though they already know the answer. It’s like chess, all about making the right moves.

“No questions,” the man growls. “Do as I say.” Tentatively, Y/N stands on her toes to close the distance between them, kissing him gently. Chaste, soft, nothing that requires too much of either of them. But that isn’t good enough for their abductor. “Do it like you mean it.”

So she kisses him harder, deeper. If she closes her eyes, it’s easy to pretend that they aren’t here at gunpoint, that it’s just the two of them, that this kiss really does mean something. That this is the moment she’s been imagining a thousand times. He returns it, his hands settling on the small of her back in order to pull her closer. “Now, hit her.” At the sound of the bald man’s voice, Reid freezes, then pulls away. An apology is written on his face, and she braces herself for the slap that stings her cheek and sends her stumbling backwards a few steps. This isn’t going to be a romantic fantasy, apparently.

“Take off her dress, Mr. Fitzgerald.” On his tongue, their names are taunts and not identifiers.

Reid hesitates, but she gives him the slightest of nods. If they’re going to get out of this, they have to play along. It’s their only hope of staying alive long enough for the team to find them. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. His hands reach up her back, unzipping her dress in one fluid motion before easing it down her body. The black fabric falls in a pile at her feet, and she shivers. Standing in only her bra and underwear, the air is colder on her skin now, but it’s terribly unnerving for him to see her so exposed like this.

It isn’t supposed to be like this. This isn’t supposed to be the first time he kisses her or sees her undress. This isn’t the fantasy she replays on the jet each time they close a case and stop pretending to be a couple.

“Touch her,” the man commands, pointing at her chest. This is easily the most humiliating experience they’ve been put through since Hotch first started pairing them up for assignments like this, and it’s quickly devolving into the most humiliating thing they’ve been through, period. Any chance she has hoped for at some future relationship is dashed away. After something like this, how will they ever be able to look at each other the same way?

She sends a silent prayer to the team to find them soon, then meets Reid’s eyes. “It’s okay,” she says quietly. “Spencer, it’s okay.”

The pained look on his face cuts her deep. Is he repulsed by the situation? Or by her? She tries to keep as still as she can, tense under the scrutiny of the bald man. Reid’s hand covers her breast and she oscillates between trying to pretend she’s not in this body, and trying to pretend that she is but it’s just the two of them here. Every so often they are directed in new ways, as if this is just a play and they’ve become actors in some sort of twisted production. It’s quite possible this is reminiscent of an event that occurred in the unsub’s life at some point. Reid is instructed to nibble her ear, she to grope at his backside. Every so often an interruption demanding a hit or a punch. His commands become increasingly more rough, Y/N receiving most of the abuse while Reid tries to be as careful as he can with her, touching her gently, trying to make it look like a slap is harder than it is.

“Remove her bra, then take off your pants.” No no no no no. She knows where this is going. She knows how this scene is supposed to end. They both balk for a brief moment, until the click of the gun cocking jolts them back to their senses.

Reid is shaking his head, but she squeezes his hand. He can feel how badly she’s trembling. This isn’t pleasant for either of them, but her voice is firm. “Do what he says. Just do what he says Spencer. We’re going to get out of here.”

Just as he reaches towards her, there’s a loud bang from somewhere beyond the open door. “Ronald Horton, FBI!” Morgan’s voice echoes down to them. As the man – Horton – turns away to see what’s happening, Y/N bends down to pull her dress back on, Reid pulling his jacket back over her shoulders so she won’t have to waste time fiddling with the zipper. She’s grateful that he’s looking out for her, trying to save her any embarrassment. It’s hard to recall if she has ever been more relieved to see her team storming down a flight of stairs.

Hotch and Morgan drag Horton away in handcuffs, and Rossi turns to the couple who stand together, visibly shaken by the turn of events. “Everything okay?” he asks.

“It is now,” Y/N sighs.

Ronald Horton is violent sociopath whose marriage broke apart two months before the killings began. Oddly enough, his ex-wife was the more dominant one in the relationship. To keep up appearances, he relented to her physicality, though didn’t spare her the emotional abuse he was so apt at causing. The murders were a fantasy of his, using surrogates the enact the revenge he never had the chance to. He is booked downtown, and after a long day all of the agents are relieved when Hotch informs them they’ll be staying in Baltimore one more night to catch up on sleep.

She tosses and turns in her bed. Her mind races through everything that happened, and everything that could’ve. If the team hadn’t arrived then, what was he going to force them to do? How far would they have to go? She tries to untangle the violation, the awfulness of it, from the fact that the romantic actions were things she had wanted from Reid. But not like that. Never like that.

Her skin doesn’t feel like her own. She still feels exposed, wrapped under two blankets. She wants to forget it, but she doesn’t want to forget him.

There is a knock on the door late that night. At this hotel, sets of two rooms are connected by a door in the wall, and she knows who is on the other side before she opens it. “Hi,” Reid says softly. “Did I wake you up?”

“Not at all,” she replies. “I couldn’t sleep.” She motions for him to come in, and he does so somewhat reluctantly.

“Um, listen, Y/L/N, I just wanted to apologize for everything that happened before. That must’ve been… uncomfortable for you, and I’m really sorry.” His pause makes it clear that uncomfortable is an understatement, but neither of them knows what word to place there.

She tries to brush it off. “It’s fine, Reid. Really, it is. This isn’t the first time we’ve done something like this.” It is however, the first time they’ve had to be quite so physical with each other. There’s no reason for him to come apologizing though, it wasn’t his fault. The blame belongs solely to Ronald Horton.

“It’s not fine, though. What happened wasn’t okay. And I am so sorry for hurting you.”

“I had to hurt you too,” she says. Not as much. But neither of them were able to consent to what was done to them.

“I just… I feel bad.” He sighs and looks down at the floor. Conversation between them has never felt so strained. “Doing this, it’s embarrassing,” Reid mumbles.

The awkwardness she feels turns to anger, to hurt. Perhaps it was her that he had a problem with before, not the situation itself. After months of friendship, the idea of being with her is somehow abhorrent to him, and when she likes him so much, that knowledge is like a punch to the face. “If you’re so embarrassed by me, maybe you should stop agreeing to go undercover with me,” she retorts, starting to storm away from him. She’s too tired to deal with this.

“Y/L/N!” he cries. When she doesn’t stop, a strong hand grabs her wrist, pulling her back. “Y/N. Please, wait. That’s not what I meant. There’s nothing wrong with you. It’s me. You always have to pair up with me, and I don’t want to embarrass you. I’m sorry I-” He’s cut off by her mouth on his, kissing him hard. Like she means it. Because she does.

“That’s how you think I feel about you?” she gasps, when he pulls away. “Why do you think it’s so easy for me to pretend? Why do you think I never complain about the assignment? I like being with you. And I really like you.”

“You do?” Positively astonished, he is.

“Spencer, I love you. God, I love you so much. How can you not see that? If anything, you should be the one embarrassed by me.” He’s so smart, so good-looking.

“That would be impossible,” he says. Reid takes her hands in his, taking half a step towards her. He’s so tall, looming over practically, but his eyes are kind. Then he leans down to kiss her again. The depth of it surprises her, when he slips his tongue into her mouth. In response she bites his bottom lip gently, enticing a sigh from him.

“Is this okay?” he asks.

“I want to feel like I have a choice again in who touches me and how,” she answers. “And I want it to be you.”

It occurs to her they could be moving too fast, but when he moves his hands to her hips and she tangles her fingers in his hair, she decides she doesn’t care. After all, they’ve been dating for months. Fake-dating albeit, but every lie has a bit of the truth in it. And besides, it just feels too good to stop.

“I don’t think it’s quite fair,” she manages to find the air to say, “that you’ve seen me undress, but I haven’t seen you.” Her words give him pause, and Y/N reaches up to loosen his tie, pulling it away before starting on his shirt. The row of buttons is slowly undone, slower than is necessary. She wants to savor this, steadily revealing more of him as she goes. Reid shrugs out of his shirt, and she trails a hand down his torso, his skin warm beneath her fingertips. Feeling a little bolder, she places her lips on his neck, working her way down to his collarbone. Every soft moan spurs her on, until he captures her lips once more. It’s so good to finally touch him this way, to be touched by him. No instructions or unsubs or commands here. There’s only a warm room, dim light, and movements making up for lost time.

He’s pressed so close to her, close enough that she can feel him, hard against her. This has been so long in the making, she’s not surprised it doesn’t take long before he’s aroused. Especially not after all of the early physical stimulation between them. She’s feeling quite excited herself, the room too warm, her heart beating too fast, falling faster than she can keep up with. This man before her is like no one she’s ever met before, and she can’t remember loving someone as much as him. Needing someone as much as him. Reid’s hands slide up her sides until they find hold on the zipper of her dress. “Let’s get you out of that dress,” he murmurs.

This is how it was always supposed to be. Nothing about this is rough or difficult. In this hotel room, he is incredibly gentle with her, though his previous hesitation is gone. He knows what he wants now, they both do, and they’ve both given permission for it to happen. In a way, it’s like they are reclaiming every gesture they were forced to perform. These touches, theses feelings don’t belong to Ronald Horton. They belong to the two of them, tangled up together as they slowly explore the geography of the body. The fear is gone, wholly absent from their frantic exchanges. Love, desire, need, fills the place of that uncertainty and awkwardness.

He hurries to undo his belt, step out of his trousers. Taking full advantage of the opportunity, she teases the bulge in his boxers as he continues to find new places on her skin to place his lips, his tongue, his teeth. She tries to bite back a groan, knowing that walls are never quite as thick as they appear. Eventually she pulls him down the bed with her, and it takes only seconds before there’s no layers left between them. Just him, just her, just now.

It is even better than she’d imagined it would be. Spencer proves that he excels in every endeavor, this being no exception to the rule. It’s beautiful, the way he looks at her. How she wishes she had his eidetic memory, so as not to forget a single sensation. And when she calls out his name, when he answers with her own, nothing in the world has ever sounded so right. It seems over too soon, but they find themselves both breathless between the sheets, utterly delirious with joy. His hair is messier than usual, her face is flushed, but neither can stop staring at the other. Like stars in the night sky, it’s so hard to look away from something so wonderful.

“I think I’m in love with you,” he tells her. “I have been since the day it snowed in October, and you started a snowball fight with me on our way out of the office.”

“You lost horribly,” she says, laughing at the memory. Reid had been stunned by the unseasonably cold weather, and after hearing that he’d never had snow days growing up in Vegas, she promptly lobbed a snowball at his back. The ensuing war had been short, marked by short ceasefires so she could attempt to demonstrate proper snow packing techniques. As a term of surrender, he’d bought her hot chocolate, and the day was among her favorite memories of their friendship. This night would certainly have its own place in the rankings.

Spencer simply brushes her hair back, smiling at her. “I think I won, in the end.”

“Isn’t this technically against the rules?” she asks, thinking she should’ve read those fraternization policies a bit more closely.

“Mmm, probably. I suppose that makes us… what is it Garcia always calls us?”

“Partners in crime,” Y/N laughs. “I never thought that would be so true.” It’s absolutely worth it, she decides, because, “I love you, too.”

At breakfast the next day, Spencer seems visibly happier, and she can’t help but feel delighted at well. Once or twice she swears she catches Morgan looking at them funny, but she brushes it off. The older agent walks over to Reid and whispers something to him that makes their resident genius turn as pink as a pair of Garcia’s heels. Y/N is hoping things are still okay, until Morgan catches her on her way out the SUVs.

“Congratulations on finally breaking all that sexual tension. I thought you two were never going to get a clue. But hey, I guess life imitates art?” She’s tempted to slap the smirk off his face, but then Derek adds, “Thin walls, Y/L/N. But don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.”

#fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #reid x reader #brywrites #partners in crime

330 notes · View notes

angstmongertina · 3 years

Text

A Moment of Peace

I started this around the time the closed beta came out and didn’t actually finish until literally the night the game is released but oh well lol. But hey, I did finish before the game is released, at least?

Also, I used the name Artem because I didn't want to have to figure out how to deal with the Lawyer Zuo vs. Artem usage between Chinese and English.... and also because I couldn't remember Celestine's Chinese name lol.

Cross-posted on AO3.

Sometimes, she doesn’t know how he does it.

Actually, if she is to be perfectly honest with herself, most of the time, she doesn’t know how he does it.

Within the firm, she already has a reputation for putting in long hours. After all, as a relative newcomer to the Stellis legal scene, still only a few years out of law school herself, she knows that she still has plenty of work to do in order to establish herself in the field, to climb the ranks of the legal world and prove to the rest of Stellis City, as well as herself, that she deserves to be at Themis.

And even so, Artem still far outpaces her work ethic, leaving her to wonder more than once whether he ever actually leaves the building.

As such, it isn’t exactly surprising for her to leave the room and find the light still on in his office as she makes her way to the break room, an empty mug in one hand and her pile of notes in the other. After all, as she juggles between her cases and the upcoming attorney test, he is left picking up her slack, and while he might have volunteered more than once for the task with his usual calm expression, the concept of putting even more on his already full plate still sits poorly in her stomach.

Particularly since she has no clue where he’s even managing to squeeze the time to help her out of, given the seemingly endless collection of cases vying for his attention.

Pursing her lips, she contemplates the coffee machine for one, long, moment before shaking her head with more reluctance than she cares to admit against the siren call of caffeine. Instead, she reaches for the box of chamomile, a not-so-subtle gift from Celestine soon after her sudden and unexpected trip to the hospital—yet another of the now too many to count times that she has found herself in Artem’s debt—and prepares two mugs, breathing in the warm comforting aroma.

If she closes her eyes, she can almost imagine that she’s at home, decompressing after a productive day without a care in the world…

With a sigh, she shakes her head again, this time to clear the daydream from her mind. Soon, perhaps, but she has a mission to complete first.

Tucking her notes under her arm, she makes her careful way to his office, nudging the door lightly with her shoulder before stepping inside. “Artem?”

She’s not surprised to find him still hunched over his desk, hard at work despite the late hour. In fact, the only visible signs of the time are his jacket, carefully lain aside on the couch, and his head propped up in one hand as he makes notes on whatever document he is in the process of perusing. At her voice, he looks up, blinking a few times at her before he jerks upright and she can’t help but follow his hands with her gaze as they reach for his tie, fidgeting with it slightly before drifting down to tug at his shirt cuffs.

“I… Eliana?”

With a jolt, she snaps her eyes back up to find his lips set into his usual faint smile, though with something unfamiliar twisting their corners, something that disappears the next instant as his face smooths back out to inscrutability with truly enviable ease. “What are you still doing here?”

She blinks. For just a split second, his expression was odd, almost shy, although that conclusion makes absolutely no sense, and she shakes her head, though whether it’s at his question or to dislodge her irrelevant, uncontrolled thoughts, she can’t say. Instead, she sets her shoulders, pushing it to the back of her mind, and offers him a smile of her own. “I think I should be asking you that question. But first…”

She glances down and he starts again, eyes widening as he follows her gaze. ”Oh, right. My apologies. Please, come in.”

As he moves to rise to his feet, she steps forward, reaching out an arm to wave him off before remembering and freezing too late. She can only watch, muttering a silent prayer to the god of fluids, as the tea sloshes dangerously close to the rim of the mug before settling back down, thankfully—if barely—avoiding spilling over.

She does not miss the noise from the desk that sounds suspiciously like a muffled chuckle.

Studiously avoiding his gaze, she contemplates his desk and the neat piles of notes and evidence before turning instead to the couch and his comparatively less cluttered coffee table. While papers still pepper the surface, as they inevitably do during complicated cases, it is easy enough to push them gently to the side, making a point to keep them at least somewhat organized.

“What are you—?”

She looks up, meeting his bemused gaze with a cheerful smile. “Giving you a hand. I’m your partner, after all.”

One eyebrow quirked, he huffs something that might have been a laugh. “Oh? How so? I need to—”

“Take a break,” she interjects smoothly. “Celestine told me that she came in early and even so, you got in before she did this morning.”

Something crosses his face, so quickly that she can’t identify it, before he releases a gentle sigh, though with a hint of a smile curling the corners of his mouth. “Of course she did. Meddling as always.”

“She’s concerned about you. As am I.” Before he can so much as open his mouth, she shakes her head. “I know the report needs to be finished and I’m here to help, but first, you need to take a break.”

When he only frowns, she sighs herself, though hers is with more reluctance than anything, particularly as she recalls the advice Celestine had seen fit to gift her with, wearing an impish smirk all the while.

But with Artem’s own diligence working against her… Well, desperate times and all.

Taking a deep, fortifying breath, she tilts her head, aiming for her most beseeching expression. “Don’t you trust me?”

It works just as well as, if not better than, Celestine promised; she can see the exact moment her words register, his eyes widening to an almost comical extent as a flush darkens his cheeks. Her resolve nearly crumbles on the spot, held together only by the knowledge that she is putting on the pressure for his own good.

“I… You…” He coughs, shaking his head as his face somehow manages to redden even more, beyond what she thought was even possible. “Of course I…” He sighs again, this time ringing of defeat, and mutters something under his breath, too low for her to make out.

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” He clears his throat, fidgeting once more with his tie before standing and stretching. “You’re right, of course.”

“Then come here.” She puts down the mugs, setting them side by side on the table, before plopping down on the couch and patting the spot next to her.

He sighs again, though it is belied by the warmth of his smile as he makes his way over, sitting down beside her with a long, slow exhale.

Glancing at him, she can’t help but frown. This close, it’s hard to miss the faint dark circles under his eyes, the strain tucked away in the corners of his mouth, the subtle signs of how much work he has been shouldering to help her. That Celestine noticed before she did, that she, his partner, needed it pointed out to her, is enough to make guilt, cold and swirling, pool in her gut.

“What’s the matter?”

And now he’s looking over her, brows pinched together with concern, and she almost denies everything on reflex before catching herself. Instead, she lets the worry she feels filter into her expression as she turns to face him fully.

“How late have you been staying? Are you that busy right now?”

The questions seem to catch him off guard; he shifts, a fleeting look of guilt, or perhaps shame, darting across his face before he smiles, a small, almost helpless curl of his mouth.

“I… would be lying if I said that I have a light load at the moment.”

It is not a direct admission, but also not prevarication either, and she can’t decide whether to be grateful or worried that he is even willing to admit how swamped he is, albeit in a roundabout sort of way. Grateful, since acknowledging the fact allows her to help, and worried because… Well, he must truly and rapidly be approaching overwhelmed to admit to such a thing so readily.

Taking a deep breath, she stamps down on the urge to apologize, though whether for forcing the admission or for not noticing earlier, not even she’s sure. Instead, she reaches for her mug, cradling its warmth between her palms before taking a slow sip. The warm, gentle fragrance fills her senses and she lets out a slow sigh of relief, feeling the stress of the day dissipate with the curling steam.

“You sound like you needed that.”

She feels her mouth curl into a smile without conscious thought and nods at the way he holds his, with almost reverence in his expression. “You as well.”

He inclined his head, a hint of a smile on his own lips. “Touché. It is very good though.”

“Celestine gave it to me, as a welcome back gift after…” She waves her hand vaguely, fighting the heat that, for some reason, wants to rise in her face every time she remembers that frantic, foolish trip to the hospital.

“Ah. Right.” Is it her imagination or do his cheeks also seem to flush as he takes another sip? “Well, it’s very good. And you could definitely use it.”

She clears her throat, determinedly putting it out of mind. “So could you, considering you’re still here.”

He raises an eyebrow. “And you’re not?” His expression is almost a smirk as he nods towards her notes. “Still studying, I presume.”

“Oh. Yes.” She sighs again, putting her strangely loud pulse at his expression out of her mind and instead contemplating the pile of papers with something that feels vaguely like exasperation mixed with a hint of despair. “There’s just so much to review.”

But before she can actually pick them up, he reaches over, snagging them before she can, and flips through her scribbled comments and answers.

“Hey!”

She makes a grab for them but he turns away, just enough to be slightly out of reach, as he flips through them, his brow furrowed in either disapproval or concentration. “There is nothing for you to be concerned about.” He turns a page, scanning over the script with his typical intense scrutiny before nodding. “Thorough and carefully thought out, just as you’ve always done. I have no doubt you’ll—”

He cuts himself off when she leans over until her weight is practically resting on his side. Frozen as he is, she is finally able to reclaim the packet and grins at him, though whether she’s flushed from exertion, the small victory, or their sudden closeness, she can’t be sure.

“You…”

“You are supposed to be resting, not taking precious time to help me with studying.” He’s still just watching her, sea blue eyes wide with a mix of surprise and what on anyone else, she would call embarrassment, and part of her wants to twist away, to hide both the papers and her red cheeks from his piercing gaze, but something about his presence, his closeness, has her pinned into place; she’s not sure she can even if she tried. “I can...”

“You can study later as well.” His lips curl into a smile, small but true, and she can feel her breath catch in her throat at the tenderness shining in it, can feel her heart hammering in her chest, so loud that it’s a wonder he doesn’t hear it. “If I need a break, then so do you. I know you have been just as diligent in the past weeks.”

“I… will.”

“Good.” His smile widens, full of gentleness and approval and something more, something that she doesn’t dare—that she can’t dare—put a name to, but which shines like the sun, filling her with warmth, bringing heat to her cheeks, even as she has to avert her gaze from its brilliant radiance.

Still, the quiet that settles over them, a soft blanket against the threat of another late night, is calm, comfortable. She cradles the cup between her palms, feels the heat radiating out with the steam that curls in the air before her, pale and ephemeral in the silence that she is loathe to break.

Not now, while the weight of the day slowly dissipates from her shoulders, while her breathing settles and calms, matching the steady inhales at her side. The office, the city, the rest of the world even, fade away until there is nothing but the rapid beating of her heart and the warmth of the man beside her, his rich cedar scent mixing with the fragrance of her tea, his quiet breathing aligned with her own, his constant care and steadiness.

In this moment, it would be easy, so easy, to just lean her head down a little and let it drop onto his shoulder.

And so she does.

For a heartbeat, he tenses under its weight and she nearly recoils, an apology on the tip of her tongue, but before she can, he relaxes again, even as his exhale ruffles her hair. “And you were planning on going back to studying immediately?”

“Mm.”

She feels more than hears the low rumble of his chuckle, feels the warmth of his shoulder against her cheek shifting as he settles more comfortably. Feels her heartbeat speed up as a gentle weight presses against her temple, a soft sigh sounding in her ear.

Feels a smile tug on her lips as she closes her eyes and lets herself rest.

#Tears of Themis #weiding shijian bu #Zuo Ran #Artem Wing #Zuo Ran/MC #Artem Wing/MC #Tina writes stuff.#Tina plays ToT.#sweet awkward lawyer husband #otp: to have and to hold #WE OUT HERE POSTING 25 MINUTES BEFORE THE GAME IS RELEASED.#WE REGRET NOTHING.#But at least it broke my 'I haven't posted a fic since January' streak.

13 notes · View notes

frostsinth · 4 years

Text

The Secret We Keep - Pt. 8

Part 1|2|3|4|5|6|7 - MasterList -

Guys...Guys I hate to spring this on you, usually I give you a heads up... but this is the last part. It just seemed right, the way the story flowed here. I am going to do a little epilogue, but otherwise this is where their story ends for now.

I hope you have enjoyed the slow, awkward, and bumpy ride. It has been a pleasure writing these two, and I’m going to miss them.

If you like this story, check out my others on my MasterList above. While you’re there, feel free to BuyMeACoffee. As always, comments and notes give me life. Shoot me a DM or an ask if you have any thoughts or questions, I love hearing from you all!

It was nearly midday by the time he made his way over towards the butcher shop. The big orc lumbered slowly, frustration lingering in the corners of his deep scowl. He couldn’t believe the woman had managed to slip through his grasp again! But he shook his head, removing the ax from his belt and leaning it in its usual hiding place in the crevice between the two buildings. He would catch up to her eventually. With his resources, it was only a matter of time. The last of those thoughts fell away as the wall of the yard finally came into sight, replaced with a sudden eagerness.

Hanste’kosh didn’t intend to bother with the gate; it was likely latched from the other side anyway. Or more, he hoped it was. As he moved to walk around the perimeter, as he always did, he couldn’t help reaching out to test it with a good yank. It stuck firmly in place, and he nodded in satisfaction. Though the low walls were hardly fortified. Perhaps he would get the boys to bring some mortar and stones. Build them up higher. Keep the place more secure.

The big orc chewed this over as he made his way around to the front. Bar’tok had been right. The place needed more security. And if the presence of the blacksmith’s boy the morning before yesterday was any evidence, just about anyone could get into the place.

He was surprised to find the shop door slightly ajar. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled, but he gritted his teeth. He was being paranoid, he chided himself. Likely it was due to the cooler weather of the day; she was simply letting some air in.

With a grunt, he shouldered the door open the rest of the way, hunching up to slip through the tiny frame. His arms scraped the sides, but he was used to it, and rolled his shoulders back as soon as he was in the shop proper.

She wasn’t there. A quick glance around the small shop front confirmed the room was indeed empty. And oddly still; as if he had entered a crypt rather than a shop. Again, the tickle of hairs at the back of his neck set him on edge. But it wouldn’t be the first time he had come to find her in the back, he reminded himself. He nodded resolutely, glancing around once more and moving to the door to the yard.

Another scrunch and duck, and he was out in the open under the growing midday sun again. Slate blue eyes studied the yard. But it too was empty. Now his back grew stiffer, and his jaw tightened. He turned around in place, just to be sure. No fires burning. No meat cooking, no carcasses hanging. And everything looked as when he had last seen it. Unease settled in the pit of his stomach.

The house then. He made his way over, and his palms grew hot at the sight of the open door. Perhaps it was his imagination, but he would swear that was exactly how he had left it the other day. A muffled growl bubbled in his chest, and he knocked lightly on the frame. Popping his head in, his ears rang with the stillness. Empty.

Jerking back, he spun, glaring about with his brow heavily knotted. He gritted his teeth, and found his heart was racing in his chest. All his experience, all his level headed seasoning over the years, shot out of him like a bolt of lightning. Instead, an unfamiliar panic began to set in.

“Madara?” He called, his deep voice thinned by his emotions. It occurred to him he had never said her name out loud before. The sudden realization that he may never say it again hit him like a brick. “...Maddie?” He quickly said it again in denial of that thought.

There was no answer. He felt a foreign numbness wash over his body, dragging him down. He staggered, reaching out to place one hand on the wall of the house. His mind jolted, his blood rushed in his ears. The orc blinked stupidly a few times, and his hopes fell like an anchor tossed off a cliff face. Unable to deny the evidence piling before him.

She wasn’t here. She had abandoned the place. Probably gathered what she had been saving to buy the tavern over the past few days and run… from him. He had finally scared her off. Been too bold, too forward. Had pushed her too fast. Promising her palaces and treasures! It must have sounded crazy… But no crazier than her convincing him that he made her happy. That she wanted him and nothing else. It stung like a fresh burn, and he shook his head at his own stupidity. As if that could ever be true...

Or, alternatively, perhaps he had waited too long… Perhaps she had realized she didn’t want to have a lover she only saw once a fortnight. Was tired of his secrets and his silence. Maybe she had realized who he was. What he did whenever he left her side. What life he led out of her sight.

The big orc gave an angry growl. He shoved the nearest thing to him, which happened to be a barrel. Watching it rock and fall to its side hardly appeased him, and his eyes flashed with fire. He grabbed it, easily hoisting it over his head and tossing it across the yard. The sound of it shattering echoed in the emptiness. He grabbed another, tossing it with a roar. Then upturned the trough. The water splashed about his boots before seeping across the ground. Next went the old cauldron, clattering and spinning across the yard with its contents pouring out like a trail of blood behind it. His big fist caused the wall of the house to shudder as it connected, and he growled and punched it again. And again. Until a crack formed in the mortar and the rafters groaned and rattled.

Hanste’kosh shuddered, suddenly finding his legs weak beneath him. Slowly, he let himself sink to the ground, bending his knees and propping his elbows on them. Leaning his back against the wall and dropping his chin to his chest. What a fool he had been! To let himself get so caught up in a trivial crush for a human. It bit sharp teeth into his heart to think of her; to think that after their night together maybe she had realized that he was, after all, an orc. And she a human. She was scared of him, that must be it. His sudden anger only proved that she was justified to be so, and he felt a throbbing guilt clutching his heart. For being too big. For being too gruff. For being rude, and brutish, and…

The sound of snorting and squealing hardly registered to him, sitting forlornly in the empty yard. The thundering of cloven hooves, the shouts. None of it mattered. He stared at the ground by his feet, numb to the world.

“Boss!” Came the shout again, closer this time.

Hanste’kosh tilted his head back slowly, looking up at his second. Bar’tok’s went wide as their eyes met, staring at him in shock. Usually, this disrespect would warrant a glare, or have his familiar heavy scowl set into place. Would have him growling in a way that made the smaller orc’s knees knock together. But now… he just looked...

“...Hey, Boss… are-are you ok?” He panted quietly, wiping the sweat from his brow.

The large orc gave a soft grunt, looking past his second dully. He could hear the hog squealing and snorting on the other side of the crumbling wall Bar’tok had easily scaled. Usually they didn’t bring the boars into the village. Too much attention. But it didn’t matter now. Nothing mattered.

Bar’tok looked around, taking that moment to catch his breath. The silence that rang in his ears, despite his boisterous entrance, and that as well as the look on Hanste’kosh’s face had him drawing a quick conclusion. Not to mention the scene of destruction in the yard; broken barrels, upturned trough, burnt stew and dented pot.

“Is she-”

He drew in a sharp breath at the dark glower shot back at him in warning. He cleared his throat, disappointment sinking into his chest. One hand reached up, rubbing at his green neck dejectedly. But he shook himself, remembering why he was there.

“... We’ve gotten word. We know where the Red Wren is now.”

Another grunt, louder this time. His thick brow was beginning to knot up into its familiar angry glower again. But it seemed more hollow. Less the battle scarred fearless warrior Bar’tok had come to know. More like a hollowed survivor, tired of fighting and looking forward to meeting his end on the field. The sight made him shift nervously. The larger orc straightened his big head, thick locks heavy around his shoulders. Slowly, he stood, growling quietly. Despite his old scowl returning, the life seemed drained out of him as he stomped back to the shorter wall.

Bar’tok lifted his hand, thinking to say something. But he couldn’t quite imagine what. Eyes darted about, considering the abandoned yard. A frown tickled at his face. It seemed strange to him. She had been so besotted! Had they gotten into a fight before the Boss had left last time? Had he threatened her, or scared her? It wasn’t out of his nature for his line of work, but even with the little he had seen, he could tell the older orc was a different person around her. Though honestly, he was surprised she had lasted as long as she had at all. Hanste’kosh was an absolutely terrifying presence on his quieter days! The younger orc couldn’t imagine he made good company for a tiny little human.

It had been nice, though. Seeing his Boss so happy. Not that anyone would know it to look at him; but Bar’tok had been working with him for a long time. He knew his quirks. Knew each grunt and scowl and twitch. He had seen the vigor she had brought to him. A previously overzealous workhorse had been replaced by an overgrown pup suddenly eager to finish the job so he could leave to spend time with her. And now…

He sighed heavily, a frown still set deeply into the corners of his mouth. It didn’t seem right. She had been too pure! Too good! Why would she just up and run all of a sudden? Had she said anything? Left a note? He had to imagine she would. She didn’t seem the type to just leave things hanging. Shaking his head, he followed after his boss. Not much to do for it now, right? There would be no talking to Hanste’kosh in a mood like this. The big orc looked like he was moving on instinct rather than conscious thought. Trying to stand in his way would mean being mowed over in his wake.

Both orcs scaled the wall easily, leaping over and landing heavily on the other side. Startling the crap out of a slender boy heading towards the shop entrance. He jumped with a yelp, but quickly straightened. Bar’tok would have ignored him entirely, save for the curious glance he shot Hanste’kosh. As if he had seen him before.

“H-hey!” The teenager stammered, “Y-you’re that orc-” The growl shot his way had the boy squeaking and shrinking back again. Bar’tok almost smirked in amusement. But the teenager fixed his jaw and squared his thin little shoulders. “H-have you seen Madara?”

Hanste’kosh may have winced at the name, but turned his back on the boy with an angry snarl to hide it if he did. Bar’tok shot the human a look that warned him into silence, giving a small shrug almost apologetically. He turned back to his Boss.

“An old sailor caught sight of a red-haired woman with a scar on the side of her nose down by the docks.” He explained, trying to distract the larger orc. “Yesterday evening, at the latest.”

“That sounds like the lady that was here!” Piped up the tiny human.

The adrk green-grey blur shot past Bar’tok before he had a chance to react, leaving the smaller orc dazed in his wake. Hanste’kosh had the human teenager by the scruff of his shirt and hoisted high into the air before the yelp had even finished petering from his mouth.

“What did you say??!” Demanded the huge orc, his voice a reverberating growl that echoed like thunder around them.

The boy put up his hands, quaking in absolute terror. “I-I.. I-I” He was stammering so much he couldn’t seem to find the words.

Bar’tok stepped over, sliding into the boy’s line of sight. “You saw someone like that here?” He pressed, trying to sound encouraging. His mission was not helped as Hanste’kosh shook the teenager like a ragdoll.

His feet kicked uselessly above the ground. “The day before last!” He squeaked, “S-she was looking for the person who cooked the roast pig she had sampled! I-I saw her go into the shop….” His eyes managed to go even wider as a sudden realization seemed to hit him. “I… I haven’t seen Madara since…”

Hanste’kosh dropped the boy, who fell in a heap on the ground with a shout and a whimper. The big orc was at the war hog’s side in two strides, moving faster than anyone would have ever thought a creature of his size could be capable of moving. Bar’tok’s mouth was still half open to speak as the larger orc had settled himself in his mount’s saddle.

“Which docks?!” He snarled at his second, eyes feral.

….

“Wakey wakey, love!” Came a sing-song voice.

I groaned, my head pounding. I moved to reach up one hand to cradle it, but found they would not obey my will. I struggled to comprehend the wash of sounds that hit me, the strange air filling my lungs. My throat felt dry and my eyes struggled to open. My head throbbed and pounded from a focused point at the back of my skull and radiating out.

“Here she comes! Atta girl.”

That voice again. I knew that voice. It brought to mind the memory of flashing red hair and the hint of a point to a pair of pale ears. In my shop, I remembered. The sing-song tone asking me questions. The same unease that had curled around the base of my spine then returned, and I fought the blinding light that edged my vision.

I came to slowly, rolling my head back and looking about. I was in a room, a large room, filled with crates and barrels and various other shipping containers. The rafters were so far overhead I couldn’t make them out, but shafts of sunlight caught drifting dust motes among the beams. Ropes and large canvasses were draped about, and the distant chatter of voices and boots on wood echoed around me. I blinked a few times, drawing in a steadying breath. It brought with it a briney scent. I frowned. I had never smelt anything quite like it! Almost like fish, but saltier, and wet.

Feral green eyes waited for me when my vision cleared, along with a sharp smirk on pristine white teeth. I took in the woman with flaming red hair before me, and stiffened sharply. It was then I realized my hands and ankles were bound to the hair I sat in. I swallowed the dryness in my throat, fear settling its claws into my chest.

“Well, well,” She purred, straightening with her hands tucked into the small of her back, “I must have hit you harder than I thought, though I’m sure the drugs were also an overkill. You were out for almost two whole days!”

I twisted my wrists in the binds experimentally, gritting my teeth. “Who are you? What do you want?”

She laughed, slowly pacing around me. “Consider me an old colleague of a dear friend of yours.” She stopped at my shoulder, bending low to speak straight into my ear. “Absolutely astounding job on the pig, by the way! As far as last meals go, it was quite the hit.”

“What are you talking about?” My voice was high with my fear, and I wriggled against the bindings again. “Why am I here?”

She continued her circle, chuckling again. “Oh, you’re here to ensure my safety, sweet girl.” Now standing back before me, she put her hands on her hips. “I seem to have found myself on your mate’s bad side.” She reached out and tweaked my nose sharply. “And you’re going to help me off.”

“My mate?” I echoed, dumbstruck.

Again, her laugh rang out. “My, but aren’t you the pretty, ignorant little duckling. Do you have any idea who you invited into your bed?” Her grin grew malicious, “Or do you just go crazy for any big orc who will have you?”

It suddenly clicked in my head whom she meant, and I felt a cold chill run down my spine. She smiled, seeing the realization creeping into my face. She glanced over her shoulder at the guard posted by the door, then turned back to me.

“A dangerous creature, that lover of yours. Tell me,” She crouched down to be face to face, “Does the beastie have a heart? Or just a really good cock?”

My face burned hot, and my mouth opened in surprise. She gave another vicious laugh. She straightened, turned and strode back towards the door. I wriggled again, then tried my ankles next, tugging and rolling them. I even craned my head to look as far over my shoulder as I could, as if perhaps there was some opportunity to escape just out of my sight.

The woman nodded to the guard, finishing whatever she had been saying, and turned back to return to my side.

“I hope you’re valuable to him. Or you’re really no good to me at all.” She kicked my chair lightly. “Just dead weight.” I glared up at her as angrily as I could manage despite my racing pulse in my ears. She merely smirked again. “You think he’s missing you by now? Don’t fret, I won’t keep him worrying long. I’ve just sent word to let him know you are safe and sound with me.” She tapped the point of my nose with one finger, and I shook my head in frustration. “No reason for this to get messy, don’t you agree?”

She jerked up quickly as a loud commotion suddenly filled the air. The sound of shouting, and splintering wood. Crashing bodies and breaking glass. The clang of metal against metal and shrieks of pain. Her eyes went wide, then narrowed. A blade appeared in her hand so fast, I didn’t even see her move. With a swift slice, she freed my wrists and ankles and yanked me to my feet.

Just in time, it seemed. The massive doors of the old building seemed like they exploded before us, with a huge boom that sent splinters flying. I squeezed my eyes shut to block out the cloud of dust that flew in our faces. I felt her arm wrap about my shoulders, felt her tug me closer. The sharp edge of the blade was pressed to my throat.

I blinked, gasping as the dust began to settle and a huge, familiar frame filled the new hole in the wall. I almost melted with relief at the sight.

“Hans!” I shouted.

His responding snarl was more vicious than I had ever heard it and made my breath catch in my throat. So loud the rafters shook over us. Slate blue eyes fixed with a burning ferocity at the woman behind me. Her arm tightened around my body, and she jerked us both back a step. Brandishing her knife so that it’s sharp edge caught a glimmer of light. I reached up, tugging at her arm weakly with both my hands. My movements still sluggish and clumsy.

“Hans?” Echoed the woman, then laughed boldly, “My, but that is so sweet. Ah!” She exclaimed as he took an aggravated stride forward, “Not another step. I assume you want your precious little butcher girl back in one piece, yes?” I could feel her hot breath in my ear, “She’s not the only one who knows how to cook a pig.” Hans froze, and his big eyes narrowed. “Quite clever, by the way. I must commend you. Sending such a delicious roast to my barracks laced with belladonna. Must have been like lambs to a slaughter for you.”

“It’s over, Wren,” Growled Bar’tok, appearing from the settling dust to stand at Hans’ shoulder with a big ax brandished, “The warehouse is surrounded. There’s no way you leave here in one piece.”

She chuckled behind me, but I could feel her nervousness as her arm gripped me a little tighter. “No, I don’t think that’s quite true. See, you’re gonna let me walk right out of here. That is, if you ever want to see your little friend here again.” She pulled me back as she moved a step. The orcs matched her, and she pressed her knife against me hard enough to make me gasp. “Don’t test me! Call off your man, Hanste’kosh Blackheart. This is between you and me. Well, you, me, and your sweet little human plaything here.”

Hans raised his hand, signalling Bar’tok to stand down. The smaller orc growled softly, but did as he was told. Lowering his big double sided ax slightly. I heard the stamping march of boots from the outside, and more growls and grunts. Wren twitched behind me. I wriggled in her grasp, but she jerked me off balance, still keeping the blade pressed to my throat.

I had never seen Hans like this. His face was contorted into a feral rage, so foreign to me it made his features seem twisted and dark. His tusks looked larger than I remembered them, and his hair fell about him like a wild mane. He looked like a wild animal. I barely recognized him; his huge, muscular arms flexing, a trail of spittle forming in the corners of his mouth. I glanced at Bar’tok, who looked equally outraged, then back to Hans. My mind raced and my breath was shallow. I swallowed hard, feeling the knife press deeper into my flesh and making me wince. Somehow, Hans’ face managed to become more twisted at the sight.

“...You’re going to let me get on that ship,” The woman was saying, and I blinked, realizing she had been talking for a while now, “You’re going to let me sail away. And then you’re going to forget about me.”

She was dragging me now, and my feet slid on the damp floors as I tried to keep them under me. I struggled against her again, and felt the blade knick my skin as she tightened her grip. I heard Hans’ growl as I gasped at the slight stinging pain that came along with it. Felt a single pearl of blood drip down my neck.

“You’re going to regret that…” He snarled, his voice a deep, booming thunder in the old building.

“Get back!” She shouted at them, but her voice shook a little. “Let me pass! NOW!”

The orcs exchanged a quick look, but then reluctantly did as they were told, slowly stepping to the side. Creating a passage between them. Neither seemed pleased about it, their fists wringing, their snarling visages deepening. But slowly, she advanced, her gaze darting back and forth between the two. Daring them to try something. Hans’ growled again, a deep, monstrous sound that sent a shiver down my own spine.

I felt her wince behind me, and heard her swallow loudly. Her hand on the knife loosened, I could feel the pressure lightening. I glanced at Bar’tok, then at Hans, whose eyes seemed fixed on the blade at my throat. We were nearly to them now, edging towards the one exit I could see. I waited, my breath trapped in my lungs, my heart like a drum thrumming in my ears. My hands shook, but I watched the gap between us slowly shrink with each tiny step forward that she dragged me.

She shifted, her stance not as tight. She was distracted, maybe by a loud sound. Maybe in the process of switching her wary gaze from one orc to the other. But I felt my opportunity. And I took it.

In a flash, I grabbed my own balled fist and slammed my opposite elbow back with as much force as I could muster. She cried out, buckling over in surprise and pain. Her knife hand going wide, her arm loosening. I twisted free, doubled over, and then I ran. I ran as fast as I could, sprinting. Straight to Hans.

I slammed into his chest at full speed, and felt the wind knock from my lungs. He didn’t even flinch from the force of my charge. My mouth gaped uselessly, but I felt his arm drop down. Encasing me. Lifting me and spinning with me. I could hardly process our movement as he spirited me away. The last thing I heard was a deafening scream.

By the time the air had returned to my lungs, the sounds of the warehouse had faded behind us. I tried to turn my head, but was buried so deeply in his rough armor that I could barely breathe let alone move. I squeezed my eyes shut and hoped that whatever was happening, Hans would know what to do.

I’m not sure how long I stayed like that, but eventually, I felt my feet slowly being lowered back to the ground. Felt the corded, muscular arm around me slowly loosen, and I leaned back carefully. Craning my head back to look for his face.

Gone was the snarling visage and feral beast. Gone was the dark shadows and angry glower. His big blue eyes were soft and searching, his thick hair a black frame around his square features. His jaw was slack and his tusks seemed less pronounced than minutes before. The familiar face I dreamed about each night.

My Hans. My big, gentle Hans. I let out my breath in a rush.

His big hand came up, hesitantly running his fingertips over my jaw. I saw his gaze flicker down to my throat, and his thumb moved to trace the thin cut there. A soft growl reverberated in his chest. I brought my own hand to cup his, and realized I was smiling. Despite it all. Despite the fear pounding my chest still and the fact that my knees quivered beneath my skirts. Just seeing him again was enough to make me smile.

“I’m fine.” I assured him, my voice breathy and thin.

He growled softly again, and his big lip seemed to quiver slightly. I curled my fingers around his hand and gave a gentle squeeze. There was a snort behind him, and I managed to glance around him to see a large red boar saddled and waiting. Its big nose twitched, and it snuffed at my scent. I heard the caw of birds, and looked up to see white gulls circling overhead. Now that my pulse was calming, I could hear not the rush of blood in my ears, but the crash of water. I took in another deep breath of the salty air.

Some cleared their throat quietly behind me, and I jumped a little. Hans’ face hardened slightly as I turned to see Bar’tok standing there. He rubbed at the back of his neck, shuffling his feet and spinning his big ax in his free hand.

“Sorry to interrupt, Boss,” He began, and cleared his throat again, “But the... clean up crew is here.”

I felt his hand clench around my fingers, and turned back to see him stiffening. He looked down at me, then back over towards the warehouse a few yards away. I could see various men, mostly orcs, milling about. They seemed to be searching for something, and clearing crates and debris.

“Go.” I told him, squeezing his hand again. “I’ll wait here.”

His slate blues came back to me, and I saw his face soften again. He reached up our clasped hands, running his thumb along the tip of my chin gently. But he nodded, slight scowl returning as he turned to address Bar’tok.

“Stay with her.” He ordered the smaller orc, who nodded respectfully.

Hans gave my fingers one last gentle squeeze, then reluctantly released them to turn and head back to the warehouse. Bar’tok stepped aside as the hulking orc stormed past him. When the smaller orc turned back to me, he offered me a sheepish grin, hoisting his ax up to rest over his shoulder.

“Good to see you again, ma’am.”

I almost laughed, but offered him a shy smile instead. “Glad to see you too, Bar’tok.” I glanced back over at the boar, shifting my weight. “I definitely owe you a huge breakfast now.”

He did laugh, and moved over to slap the boar on the side. The beast gave a hearty grunt, and I wandered over to it curiously. I had never seen one up close before. It was huge! Its head alone was nearly the size of my whole body. I reached out one hand towards it, offering it my palm to sniff.

“I’ll take you up on that sometime, ma’am.” He replied, half leaning against the beast as it gently wuffed at my hand.

As it seemed content, I reached up and ran my hand over its big face. The hairs were coarse and thin everywhere except for where it ran down the spine at its neck, and underneath its fur the thick hide of the pig was almost scaly. It seemed to enjoy my attention, snorting and jerking its head up into my hand.

“You are most welcome anytime you’d like,” I told him, and let out a shaky sigh, “Any meal, anything you want. It’s on the house.”

“... You alright ma’am?” He asked, and when I glanced at him, he smiled kindly.

I returned the smile, looking back at the boar as I ran my nails over its forehead. It snorted happily. “... I-I… I’m not sure…” The back of my neck itched, longing to turn to let me look back at the scene behind me. “I don’t know what to think right now…”

Bar’tok considered me quietly, wringing his hand along the handle of his ax. I scratched the boar’s head, still quivering a little, my heart skipping every few beats. I couldn’t help but recall what the lady had said, about Hans. About who he was. And something about roast pig. My roast pig, I had to assume. I swallowed nervously, trying to piece it all together. Not entirely sure I wanted to. What had she called him? Blackheart? That wasn’t an orcish name. That sounded like the kind of name one was given… The kind earned by reputation…

“You really don’t know who he is, do you?” Bar’tok asked, and I started slightly out of my contemplations at the sound of his voice, “You have never heard of him before?”

I stiffened, my hands slowing. Quietly, I shook my head. When I finally managed to look up at the orc, my eyes held the question my lips couldn’t seem to form. Did I want to know? Did I need to?

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck again. “Look, it’s not my place really,” He grumbled, staring down at his feet, “But… For what it’s worth… The Boss is absolutely crazy about you. When he went to your place, and saw you missing? I thought he might burn the whole village to the ground.” I winced, and he quickly added, “Metaphorically speaking, of course… mostly.”

I let out a nervous laugh and shook my head. I ran one hand up the snout of the beast before me. Tracing my fingers as far up as I could reach. It brought its head lower so I could scratch by its ears.

“Part of me thinks that maybe he’s happy you don’t know…” Bar’tok continued after a few moments, “Because you like him for who he really is… And you do like him, right?”

I couldn’t help the smile that split my lips, and instantly felt my cheeks warm afterwards. I glanced up at the orc through my lashes, and saw a tiny smile at the corners of his own mouth. He let out a hefty sigh, patting the side of the boar and adjusting his grip on the ax.

“Just… be gentle with him, yeah? I know it sounds stupid, but…”

We were interrupted by the heavy stomp of boots, and turned to see Hans making his way back over. He squared his broad shoulders, shooting Bar’tok a dark, suspicious look. The smaller orc cleared his throat and straightened quickly. When his eyes fell on me though, everything softened and his face seemed to brighten. I dropped my gaze shyly, but couldn’t ignore the pitter-patter of my heart in my chest.

Hans jerked his head over his shoulder at Bar’tok, moving over to the boar’s side. The smaller orc quickly shuffled out of the way, nodding his understanding. He glanced at me as he passed, hesitating a step.

“Get home safe, ma’am,” He told me, “I hope to see you again real soon.”

I gave him a polite smile, tilting my head. “Join us for that meal I owe you sometime.” He grinned his large, goofy grin, and returned another nod. “... And Bar’tok?” I called as he started to turn away. He glanced back at me, and I fumbled with the words for a moment. “... Thank you.”

I saw his eyes dart over my shoulder briefly, and could only imagine the expression that he saw there. His face paled slightly, but he managed a slight smile, and a final nod. I turned back to Hans as he spun back towards the warehouse. Hans glanced after him, then settled his big blue eyes on me. After a moment’s hesitation, he gestured to the hog, and I slowly moved over to him.

I couldn’t even reach the top of the boar’s back, but as soon as I stood at his side Hans wrapped his big hands around my waist and hoisted me up. Settling me into the front of the saddle just behind the horn. I clutched it nervously as the big orc vaulted up behind me. His huge arms encircled me, and he took up a chunk of the beast’s thick mane in his hands. With just his thighs, Hans turned the boar and spurred it forward. It gave an eager squeal, and we were off.

The heat of Hans behind me felt like a dream. As if none of this had happened at all, and I was still at home safe in my new bed. Despite the lurching gate of the hog beneath me, I closed my eyes and leaned back against Hans’ chest. I felt him adjust to my shape after a moment, and one hand came free from the thick mane to wrap lightly around me. Cradling me in place. I rested my cheek against his warm bicep, placed my own arm over his. Hugging it to me. My head still throbbed a little, and the sun was beginning to sink lower in the sky. We didn’t speak, though I couldn’t even begin to imagine what to say. The craziness of the day overwhelmed me, and I felt myself sinking into a restless daze.

The next thing I remembered was the sensation of his arms scooping me up. My eyes fluttered back open, and I looked around. The salty smell in the air was gone, as was the cawing of gulls. It was very late, but I recognized the silhouette of my house in the dark, and nearly sighed with relief. I started to wriggle, to try and slip my feet back down to the ground. The deep rumble of his growl vibrated against my ear, and he tightened his grip gently. I relented without complaint, and let him carry me all the way to the tiny doorframe. He scrunched up and bent in half to fit us both through, but managed, and walked quietly over to the big bed.

Gingerly, he laid me down in it. I looked up at him, but he seemed to be avoiding my gaze. His hands reluctantly retracted, leaving me to shiver slightly at the sudden loss of their heat. I sat up slowly, pulling my knees up to my chin and wrapping my arms around them.

“You’re safe now,” He said quietly, his deep voice like the distant rumble of a storm, “Sleep.”

“...Where are you going?” I asked, equally quiet.

He hesitated, and I heard him give a soft grunt. Saw him shift his weight and rub at the back of his neck with one big hand. I was certain if there had been more light, I would have seen the flush rising to his face. I swallowed nervously, and felt the heat creeping up to my own cheeks.

“... You’re staying?”

I thought I saw him wince, and he glanced over his shoulder. “... To keep watch.”

As he started to move away, I rolled to my knees and caught his arm lightly. He froze at my touch, and I dropped my hand shyly. Wringing my hands together in front of me.

“... Can you stay with me? ... H-here in bed?”

He seemed surprised, and I felt him hesitate again. I sat back on my ankles, rubbing at my arm with one hand. Waiting. After a long moment, he turned, heading over to the door. At first, my heart sank, disappointment spreading numbly through me. But then his big hand slowly pushed the door closed and slid the latch into place with a thunk. I saw his head turn, glancing over at me, hesitating. Then I heard the soft click of his buckles coming undone.

He stacked his armor on the table, then carefully took off his boots and stockings. His bare feet made hardly a whisper of sound as he quietly stalked over to the bed. Again, he paused, looking down at me. I scooched over, making space for him. After another moment of considering me, he slowly eased himself onto the mattress. Laying on his side, so we were face to face.

I searched for his eyes in the dark, barely able to make them out. I wondered if he could see me better; the darkness had never seemed to bother him much. It seemed like he was watching me. I smiled timidly, in case he was. I could feel his heat, and longed to roll closer. But feared scaring him off.

He shifted quietly, and I saw the shadow of his big hand move. Felt the backs of his fingers ever so hesitantly brush against the side of my face. I reached up my own hand, catching his as it passed. Bringing it to press more firmly against my cheek. I leaned into his touch, and I felt him slowly relax. Felt his hand turn until his palm cupped my face delicately. I closed my eyes, sighing softly.

“... I thought I’d lost you,” He confided in me, his deep voice almost thin with his words.

I opened my eyes again. He ran his thumb over my cheekbone, his fingers tracing back and forth along my jaw. I turned into his hand, brushing my lips lightly against his palm. Uncertain what to say but hoping the sentiment was clear enough. I felt his hand tighten slightly against me, and turned to plant another kiss on his big, meaty palm. I smiled shyly up at him through my lashes. His brow was scrunched, and I thought I saw his thick lips twitch.

“... She should never have found you. I should never have left you alone.”

I ran my thumb back and forth over his knuckles, not saying anything for a moment. I nuzzled my nose against his wrist, breathing in his musky scent. Relishing the thought that my bed would be thick with it after tonight. I was surprised to be thinking about such a thing. After everything that had happened today. But the feeling of his touch still sent me reeling. The sight of him had my heart racing. It made everything else seem so trivial.

“It doesn’t matter.” I murmured softly. And it didn’t.

He growled softly, and rolled closer. “It does matter. I should have kept you safe.”

I shook my head. “You’re here now.” I pressed my cheek deeper into his palm. “I’m safe with you.”

He grumbled, and I felt it rumbling through the mattress and air between us. I scooched closer myself, until my knees scraped against him. His free hand slowly came out, and I felt his fingertips smooth lightly over my hip. I rolled even closer, trying to encourage him. Longing for his touch, his warmth. To bury myself back against his chest. After a moment, he rested his big hand on my side, and I let my eyes close again, running my own hand across the bridge his arm made between us. Gently, he flexed his big muscles, and slid me closer.

“... I keep thinking I will scare you off.” He breathed, hardly above a whisper. His mouth was so close to me, he didn’t need to speak loudly to be heard.

I smiled again, kissing his wrist. “I keep thinking the same thing about you.”

He snorted, half in disbelief, half in amusement, and it made my grin grow by a few inches. His thumb rolled up and down my hip. I heard him shift, felt the bed creak. I didn’t jump as his lips brushed my forehead. I thought back over the day. Over everything that had happened, and everything I had learned. About his name. His reputation. What was it the red haired woman had said? ... A dangerous creature, that lover of yours... Was he really such a scary person to the rest of the world that he couldn’t believe I wouldn’t be scared as well? I remembered the way he had looked, when he had first barged into that warehouse. He had been terrifying… It hadn’t even seemed like him. Tell me, does the beastie have a heart?

I opened my eyes, looking at him. Studying the soft way his thick lips curled, the relaxed shape of his pronounced brow and thick eyebrows. The gentle depths of his deep blue eyes. This was Hans. Not that other orc everyone seemed to be scared of. Whatever else he was, this was how I knew him. This was who he was to me. Big. Soft. Kind and thoughtful. Tender and passionate. Does the beastie have a heart? How was that even a question? How could anyone who saw what I saw not simply know? Bar’tok’s words filtered to my consciousness next. For what it’s worth… The Boss is absolutely crazy about you. I traced my hand up his arm, over his shoulder. Cupping my tiny palm against his cheek. I felt my eyes glance down to his lips, before darting back up to meet his gaze. Be gentle with him…

He leaned down to meet me halfway as I stretched up to kiss him, curling his arm into the small of my back. Folding me against him tenderly. His mouth was hot against mine, but he was careful and delicate as he traced my lips with his. I melted into him, my heart fluttering in my chest, my breath catching in my throat. This was my Hans.

When we finally broke the kiss, we lay close, our noses almost touching. Breathing in the air the other breathed out. I studied him, watching those big blue eyes as they watched me. I ran my hand along the scruff on his jaw and buried it into the thick mane of hair at the base of his neck.

“... You won’t scare me away.” I murmured.

The soft rumbling chuff vibrated against me, and I smiled again. He titled his head, resting his forehead against mine. I closed my eyes, giving a final, deep sigh. Letting the exhaustion of the day finally drag me down.

...

“It’s for the best, Boss…”

The familiar voice filtered through my sleep, and I rolled to my other side. I heard the rumbling grunt in answer, and felt the smile forming on my lips at the sound. I yawned, blinking blearily and shifting again. I reached out, but it was only me laying amid the mass of blankets and furs. I sat up slowly with another yawn, rubbing at my eyes. My headache and soreness had lessened, and I felt clearer headed as I stretched out my arms.

“I think you’re right, she needs to hear it. For her own safety.”

Bar’tok, I realized, and frowned at his words. A deep sigh was the next answer, and it tugged at my heartstrings to hear it. I rolled to the edge of the bed, easing my feet to the ground carefully.

The door was agape, and I could see the edge of Hans’ shoulder through the opening. He must be sitting on the stumps by the wall. I couldn’t see Bar’tok, but he must be nearby for me to hear his voice so clearly despite its low volume. I wondered for a moment what they were conversing about. It seemed early still, there was still a slight haze to the air in the yard and I could almost taste the dew. Would it be wrong of me to eavesdrop like this?

There was silence then, and I wondered if they were talking too softly for me to hear, or if there was just a natural lull in the conversation. I stood, tip toeing a little closer. It was my house, after all. If they didn’t want me to overhear something, they really shouldn’t be talking right outside my door. After another few moments, Hans gave a deep, affirmative grunt. As if he had made some decision.

“She deserves to know why Red Wren came after her.” Bar’tok agreed, and I could almost see him nodding.

I stiffened slightly, realizing the subject of their conversation. But it was too late to back out now. I could see Hans shifting, as if he had sensed me. I squared my shoulders, moving over to stand in the doorframe. His big head craned to the side to look up at me, his huge blue eyes seeming a bit forlorn, even set as they were into his customary deep scowl. As they lit on me, I saw his brow soften slightly, though his lips tightened. I looked over to Bar’tok, who straightened at the sight of me and offered me a bashful smile.

“G-Good morning, ma’am!” He stammered, looking sheepish as usual.

I glanced back at Hans, then at Bar’tok, then back again. Based upon the look they were both giving me, I knew exactly what they had been talking about. Exactly why the larger orc looked so reluctant.

Part of me thinks that maybe he’s happy you don’t know… Because you like him for who he really is… And you do like him, right?

Hans sighed again, and started to open his mouth. I raised my hand, cutting him off.

“You don’t have to tell me. I already know.” I said.

Both orcs’ eyes widened, and they exchanged a look. Bar’tok’s mouth even dropped open slightly.

“You… You know?”

I nodded at the younger orc. “Of course!” I turned back to Hans, crossing my arms over my chest. “...I would never have thought how competitive contract laborer work can be. It’s absolutely cutthroat!” The pair exchanged another look, eyes still wide. I waved one hand in the air. “It explains everything though; the way you’re busy for days at a time, the fact that you have to travel for work, the constant threat of your competitors…” I shrugged, “Honestly, I don’t know why I didn’t see it sooner.” I gave him a small smile. “Yours must be very successful, for that Red Wren lady to be willing to go to such extremes to knock you down. And why you were worried it might scare me.”

The orcs turned to each other, their faces blank, then back to me. Bar’tok opened his mouth, but at a growl from Hans, quickly closed it. He shuffled his feet, glancing over at his boss. Hans stared at me, looking me up and down slowly from head to toe. I smiled at him, unwrapping my arms to place my hands on my hips. After a long, extended moment, he gave a loud affirmative grunt. My smile grew, and I reached out and brushed my hand over his big shoulder fondly. His lips curled back into that soft shape I liked, and his eyes became a little doe-like.

“Excellent! Since that’s out of the way,” I turned to Bar’tok, “Are you here for breakfast?” The smaller orc looked surprised, then glanced over his shoulder. His sheepish grin returned as my gaze moved around the yard. My eyes widened at the sight of the destruction there. “By the gods!”

“... Wren.” Hans quickly grumbled by way of explanation, dropping his eyes as I turned back to him.

“Ah… Yeah, we think she was looking for something…” Bar’tok explained, clearing his throat. “The Boss called me in to help with the clean up.”

I put my hands back on my hips, considering the mess. “That’s very sweet of you to help! Definitely earns you an extra helping of eggs, I’d say. How about I get everything started, then I’ll come out to help you two?”

Hans grunted, slowly standing and shaking his head. He jerked his chin to the house as he stretched, and Bar’tok nodded his agreement.

“We can handle this, ma’am. No need to bother yourself with it.”

I sighed, shaking my head. Knowing better than to try and argue. “Well, I’ll put in an extra flourish for breakfast then, since I’ll have more time on my hands.”

I saw both orcs’ noses twitch in delight at the thought, and Bar’tok’s grin grew. “That sounds great, ma’am. Thank you much.”

The two quickly set about picking up the yard, and I went back into the house. A few short logs into the oven and I had it up to temperature to begin baking bread. I dug into the larder, fishing out cheese, butter, eggs, bacon, and even some apples from a bushel one of the customers had traded with me. I grabbed the small sack of flour, and quickly had some smooth batter whipped up.

A little while later, as the bacon sizzled, I moved over to the door. Popping my head out and looking around. Bar’tok was the closest, pouring several large buckets of fresh water into the righted trough. I smiled at him.

“I think we’ll have more space setting up the table outside.” I told him as he emptied the last bucket. “Could you carry it out for me?”

“Of course, ma’am. No sweat.”

He ducked to follow me into the house. He grabbed the benches first, taking one out under each arm. I didn’t mind that he accidentally whacked one into the frame of the door as we went. When he returned, I quickly scuttled over to the table and plucked up the pitcher.

“This is special.” I explained to him, cradling it with a smile in the nook of my arm.

Bar’tok hesitated, shuffling in place. “... Ma’am… now, it’s not my place…” Again he paused, taking a step closer to the table. Bending as if to pick it up. But he paused with his palms on the wood. “But… You know he’s not-”

“Breakfast will be ready soon,” I interrupted, turning back to the stove. “I hope the yard is almost set? If not, I think you’ve both more than earned a break.”

There was silence behind me, and I flipped the bacon out of the pan and replaced it with some more. It sizzled, filling the air with its juicy aroma. I felt his eyes on me, and eventually snuck a peek at him out of the corner of one. The younger orc seemed absolutely torn, chewing on the edge of his lip around his broken tusk. I sighed.

“I’ve decided I don’t need to know, Bar’tok.” I told him, pushing the bacon around with the fork. “And it makes him happy to pretend I don’t….” I smiled to myself, my face going soft. “And he makes me happy… so this will just be the secret we keep.”

When I turned back, the orc’s smile had split his face in two from ear to ear. He nodded, satisfied, and hoisted up the table as easily as if it were a sack of feathers. He shot me one more pleased, knowing look. I blushed, quickly busying myself with the final breakfast preparation.

Not long after, I brought plate after plate after plate of delicious goodies out to the table Bar’tok had set up in the cleared center. The pair had finished filling the pit for me, and the yard looked quite neat and tidy. As they washed up, I brought out the pancakes, fresh bread, bacon, apple crisp, eggs, cheese, and even some hot coffee. For the final piece, I carefully brought out the white and blue pitcher Hans had brought me. The flowers in it were wilted, but I didn’t mind, placing it in the center of the food like a crown jewel. I happily settled myself beside Hans on the bench, making sure our thighs touched, and watched the pair of orcs dig into the prepared food eagerly.

Under the table, Hans reached out, resting his big hand gently on my leg, and turned I smiled up at him. Watching his slate blue eyes soften as they fell on my face….

...

The End.

#monster x human #monster lover #monster boyfriend #terato #exophilia #orc #orc boyfriend #orc lover #slow burn #the secret we keep #update #oc #secondhand embarrassment #final chapter

136 notes · View notes

danganronpa-oneshots-headcannons · 4 years

Note

Hellllllo! I found your blog recently and I love the way you write! Could you possibly write a scenario with Gundham where his fem! S/O is the blackened? Just a ton of angst? Thank you so much, love ya!

☁︎︎~Thank you so much for the request! Gundham is literally a bean! This took a bit so I hope you like it! Much love💕//

☁︎︎~Gundham with a fem! S/O who is the blackened!

☁︎︎~☁︎︎~☁︎︎~☁︎︎~☁︎︎~☁︎︎~☁︎︎~☁︎︎~☁︎︎~☁︎︎~☁︎︎~☁︎︎~☁︎︎~☁︎︎~☁︎︎~☁︎︎~

You didn’t have a choice. It was either you or her.

Sonia had attacked you out of madness at the funhouse. The pain of starvation had gotten to her.

Leading you out of your room and down to the elevator, she planned to kill you. However, her plan turned back onto her.

Using her own weapon to slaughter her, you now stood at the trial with fear secretly hidden in your eyes.

You stood across from Gundham’s podium, your eyes meeting his own the entire time. You had a feeling he knew what went down.

And you were right.

In fact you had totally sabotaged his scandalous idea. His own plan was to kill Nekomaru and sacrifice himself later on so everyone could eat. He’d never admit that he did it only for you though. He couldn’t bare the fact you were in pain due to this stupid motive. He was going to sacrifice himself if it meant ending your suffering.

“So let’s recap what we have so far,” Hajime spoke, his fingers lightly resting under his chin as he glared at the floor, “the victim should’ve been Nekomaru instead of Sonia right? This explains the clocks being tampered correct?”

“Yeah sounds about right! Like I’ve said before, my clock is never wrong!” Nekomaru chimed in, resting a hand on the back of his robotic neck.

“And you’re absolutely positive it can’t be tampered with Kaz?” The small Yakuza asked, looking over at the broken-hearted mechanic.

“Yeah… that’s right.” His voice sounded downhearted then his usual jumpy tone. Was it the fact you had killed the girl of his dreams? Probably so.

“Then the killing happened before Nekomaru’s alarm went off. Someone ended up killing Sonia before the other person had gotten a chance to kill Nekomaru..” Pulling her hood over her head, Chiaki looked over at Hajime with a questioning look. Even the gamer herself couldn’t figure this one out.

Hajime hesitantly nodded, “This immediately gives everyone at the strawberry house an alibi being the fact Sonia’s killer came from grape house… I think.”

Crossing his arms and huffing a sigh, Nagito causally nodded, “I’m afraid so. Well then, clearing that out of the way, all we need to know now is who had an alibi and who didn’t at the grape house.”

A sheer cause of panic ran through your body as you realized you didn’t have an alibi… the only alibi you had was now dead.

“We were all in our rooms. No one has an alibi. Hell! I didn’t even see Sonia walk down to the elevator!” Without a care for the world, Akane had stepped in to speak.

It was true. The only people in the grape house were Hajime, Akane, Sonia, Chaki, and you. Even then, it was so early in the morning everyone was either asleep or doing their own thing in their rooms.

“Wait, shouldn’t you have seen her Y/N? I mean, you were sleeping in the lounge correct?” Hearing your name, you turned to look at Fuyuhiko.

Your mouth opened to say something but Hajime had beat you to it.

“Actually… she slept in the standard room.” Blush forming at his cheeks, Hajime looked over at Chiaki.

“But wait… aren't you sleeping in the standard room Hajime?” Looking at Chiaki, Kazuichi took a moment to figure it out, “A-Are you saying you two?...” Kazuichi cocked a brow as he looked at the love birds.

Puffing out her cheeks, Chiaki shook her head, “No it wasn’t anything like that. Hajime had given his room up so Y/N had somewhere to sleep. He simply slept on the other side of my bed.”

“So then that gives the two of you a solid alibi.” Gundham’s raspy voice overpowered the gamers soft tone as he went straight to the point, “Then it was obvious who did it. Behold! The beast who brought hatred down on Sonia!” He paused to look her in the eye, “... Akane.” Even if you were the culprit, there was no way in hell he’d let you die. He was going to bring down everyone and let you live before that happened.

“H-Huh?! What?! Why me! Hey! Don’t forget about Y/N! She doesn’t have an alibi either!” She shouted in defense.

“You were staying in the crumby room am I wrong? You could hear everything that was going on around you! Who says you didn’t hear Sonia walk by your cave?! You just waited to attack!” Once again, your boyfriend's voice raged out. You knew he was lying for you. You knew he figured what had happened.

“H-He has a point! Were you the one who killed Ms.Sonia?!” Interrogating the gymnast, Kazuichi held nothing back. He loved Sonia, that was clear as day, and he was going to find out who killed her.

“Hey wait up! You can’t just jump to conclusions! For all we know, Akane is innocent!” Low and behold, Nekomaru shouted his objection.

“Innocent? Fuhaha! Let us vote now! Take down this untamable beast!” With yet another laugh, Gundham pointed at Akane.

“Hold on,” Just when you thought you had gotten away with murder, Chiaki broke the argument, “Akane has an alibi.”

“Huh? She does?” Fuyuhiko’s expression said everything. Even the proud Yakuza he was, was in fact confused.

“She does. Akane ended up waking up during the night and decided to take a walk. She was the only one who didn’t know Hajime and Y/N changed their sleeping spot so when she found out Y/N wasn’t in the lounge, she panicked and came to get me and Hajime.”

Her frown changed to a smile as she nodded, “Oh right! You two were all cuddled up! I headed back to my room after and…” her eyes suddenly shot open, “And I heard one pair of footsteps walking back to their room!” Those brown orbs shot over to you.

Biting your lip for a moment, you finally said something, “B-But you would’ve heard footsteps exiting their rooms to go the elevator… r-right?!”

“No that's impossible! Chiaki and Hajime shared the deluxe room meaning they couldn’t have heard anything! If Akane was with them... the three of them wouldn’t have been able to hear anything! They were in a soundproof room!” A sigh of relief came from Nekomaru as he knew Akane was safe.

In a cold tone, Nagito just chuckled, “Ah… it looks like Y/N has been backed into a corner. Is it true? That Y/N L/N, the ultimate (???) killed Sonia?”

Finally you let that panic show, “It wasn’t me! I… I-I-I wouldn’t-” You took a shaky breath, “I just went to the bathroom! I came back to my room by the time you returned to yours Akane!” With fear in your eyes you looked over at Gundham. For the first time ever, he looked pissed.

“YOU FOOLS! HOW DARE YOU CONDEMN THIS FALSE ACCUSATION ONTO Y/N!” Roaring with anger, everyone jumped back including yourself.

“Gundham? Why are you…?” Hajime took a step back, trying to register all of this. Suddenly it clicked into his head, “Your covering for Y/N… aren’t you.”

Gundham’s eyes pierced through Hajime’s as he continued to ramble, “Cover?! Fuhaha! I’m simply stating facts that Akane was the one to commit the crime! Lying about footsteps! She was the only one who could hear! She could be lying for all we know! Like a wolf in sheep's clothing!”

“No that’s wrong!” It was like Hajime had figured everything out, “No… your covering for her. All the evidence points to Y/N, not Akane. In fact, you were the first one to find out she was the culprit. You were the one who was going to kill Nekomaru. Isn’t that right?”

Gundham fell silent. He didn’t dare to break the contact with Hajime. He had never hated someone more than he did now.

Before Gundham could speak another word, you broke into tears, “H-He’s right… I killed Sonia…”

“HOW DARE YOU Y/N!” Kazuichi, as well, flew into tears.

“I HAD NO CHOICE!” With your sudden eruption, everyone’s attention was on you, “S-She led me out w-when Akane was with H-Hajime and C-Chiaki. She told me s-she had found food. I WAS DESPERATE! She cornered me and t-tried to kill me with the weapon she collected f-from… from the final dead room! I HAD NO CHOICE!”

Gripping your podium, you couldn’t look anyone in the eye, “I’m sorry… I can’t sacrifice everyone here just so I can get out of this hellhole.”

Everyone fell silent. The only sound in the room was your sobs and cries. Gundham was astonished. Feeling guilt pile onto his shoulders, he let out a frustrated scream, once again sending everyone back on the edge.

Finally, Fuyuhiko interpreted your breakdown with Gundham, “S-So... then we’re done? Y/N is the blackened?” He even seemed to be breaking.

“Y-Yeah.. yeah I am. J-Just vote.” Your words barely above a whisper, everyone pulled their levers and voted for you. Everyone except Gundham. Instead, he voted for himself. He would never forgive himself if he voted for you.

“Phuhuhu! Right again! Y/N L/N is the one who killed Sonia Nevermind!” Monokuma peeped, “You’re all so smart!”

Looking over at Gundham, you let out a soft laugh, “I’m so… so sorry. I really am.”

Even the breeder looked like he was about to break into tears. He was losing the person he loved dearly. No one understood him like you did. No one. You were the one who helped him open up and now? Now you were heading straight to your execution.

With heavy steps, he walked over to you and pulled you into a tight embrace, only this time, he let a small sob slip from his lips. No one had ever seen Gundham cry, not even his hamsters. No one was going to interrupt him either.

Whispering apologies and soft, ‘I love you’s’ he finally pulled away, “I will see you in the dark realm my ice queen.” With red puffy eyes he looked away from you, “That, I shall promise.”

“Then I’ll be waiting for you. Monokuma…I’m ready.”

Hearing your request, Monokuma took no time to press the button. He was rather bored with all of this sweet talk and decided to get to the point.

Taking a few steps back, you forced a smile for your sweet breeder, “Thank you.”

That was the last thing he heard and saw before the metal claw took you by the throat and dragged you down the hall.

☁︎︎~☁︎︎~☁︎︎~☁︎︎~☁︎︎~☁︎︎~☁︎︎~☁︎︎~☁︎︎~☁︎︎~☁︎︎~☁︎︎~☁︎︎~☁︎︎~☁︎︎~☁︎︎~

#danganronpa x reader #headcanons #oneshots #danganronpa #gundham tanaka x reader #gundham tanaka #danganronpa gundham #danganronpa requests

79 notes · View notes

shianhygge-imagines · 4 years

Text

Sundown 勿忘草 [Reno/Reader]{Final Fantasy VII}

AN: I’ve been wanting to write a Reno one shot, but never really managed to get my lazy ass into gear. This is a long one (though at this point, I’m just known for really long story posts... let me know if you think it’s a good thing or a bad thing). I was debating splitting it into parts, but you all know how bad I am with posting updates to any of my fics written in parts. Also, can anyone tell me why I keep seeing “#reno sinclair” in the Reno tags? Since when was Reno’s surname Sinclair? None of the Turks have last names that I recall.

Was hoping to get it to 10,000 words, but I’m around 2,200 short :P

Title is “Sundown Wasurenagusa” meaning “Sundown Forget-me-Nots; ”Forget-me-nots meaning “True Love” in hanakotoba (Japanese language of flowers)

If you like the content I create, please consider donating to my Ko-fi! Please help me feed my tea addiction!

|Masterlist Link|

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

A heavy and tired sigh escaped your lips as you continued to read through the various reports scattered upon the table before you, scribbling down information into your work notebook that would act as relevant evidence to support your proposal for several structural upgrades to the plates. Though it was a concern that your boss, Reeve Tuesti, had brought up during various board meetings, it seemed that the executives of Shinra Electric Power Company would do nothing without a formal report containing sufficient evidence to support immediate action.

Already over worked from his other projects, Reeve had personally asked you to oversee the project proposal. As a resident of the Sector 5 Slums, you felt that it was your duty to do everything you could to make life for your fellow under city residents better. So, despite the fact that you would be working on the project alone, you accepted Reeve’s task.

Now, sitting at a corner table on the Relaxation Floor, you were almost regretting taking on the task alone. Outside the large windows overlooking Midgar, the sun had long since set, the city lights and mako lighting up the dark space below in a sea of various colors. Most Shinra employees had left the building hours ago, yet here you were, still working, dinner purchased from the cafeteria sitting off to the side and half gone.

After reading another set of reports, you paused in your scribbling to slam your head non too gently on the cafeteria table, “You’d think with all the complaints we’ve had about falling metal pieces from the plate almost killing slum residents, that the company would immediately do something.” No one responded to your muttering. Not that you expected an empty space to provide commentary to your misery and exasperation. So, you stayed in that position, debating whether to call it a night so that you could catch the last train home.

“Well, color me surprised, I didn’t think any of you pencil pushers liked staying after hours.” Just when you were about to relax, a sly and cocky voice decided to interrupt your solitude.

Jolting up with a twitch of your eye, you glared at the redhead who approached your corner table, suit and dress shirt unbuttoned and showing off an ample amount of chest. Had you not lived in the Sector 5 Slums for your entire life, you probably wouldn’t have recognized the man as a Turk. Besides, the people at Shinra liked to gossip. Red hair pulled into a weird ferret tail looking ponytail, goggles resting on the crown of his head, red marks under his eyes, and a severe need of a slap to the face… yeah, there was no doubt in your mind that the man steadily approaching your table was Reno of the Turks… and the Turk second in command.

Rolling your eyes, you sat up and began to straighten out the papers on the table, putting them into a pile to slip neatly into your briefcase. “Just my luck. The entire cafeteria is empty, Turk. Why are you bothering me?”

A little hostile, but you couldn’t help it. Having grown up watching these strange men in suits harass Aerith… you didn’t exactly have a kind opinion of them. Plus… they were unwaveringly loyal dogs to Shinra, something that didn’t sit well with you.

Reno feigned a hurt expression, placing a hand upon his chest, “Why the hostility? It was an honest question.” The redheaded Turk smirked and lifted his hand to raise his pinky, “Pinky swear.”

Reigning in your frustration, you huffed and propped your head upon a raised hand, closing your eyes in an attempt to calm down. “Yeah… yeah… Sorry.” After inhaling and exhaling for a few seconds, and listening as a chair was dragged out from the other side of the table, you opened your eyes to stare tiredly at the now seated Turk. “Uh… what are you doing?”

“Keeping you company, of course.” The cocky smirk widened as Reno leaned back and propped his feet upon the table, narrowly missing your half finished dinner.

Reaching a hand out to grab the remains of your dinner, you quietly started to finish said meal off, “Uh…huh… sure. I buy that.” You remarked sarcastically, eyes not leaving Reno’s form. “So Reno of the Turks decides to just randomly pop on by to keep a Shinra office worker company as they work overtime… sure…”

The grin didn’t falter as his blue eyes wandered to observe you, “It would seem so.”

“Right.” You muttered, finishing the last of your meal before standing up with your bag and tray, “Sorry to cut this short, but I’ve got a train to catch.” You weren’t sorry, but you still called out to him as you walked away, “See ya, I guess.” Hopefully not.

“You can bet on it!” Reno called back to you, watching as you threw away your trash and left the Relaxation Floor. As the doors slid close, you caved and turned around to look back at Reno, meeting his gaze just as the doors closed. Why did you feel like that was more than a promise?

…

…because it was.

The two days after were supposed to have been your days off. Yeah, perhaps you still had to structure your formal proposal a little more, but at least you were surrounded by fellow under city residents instead of Shinra employees… yeah, no, that was perhaps a little harsh of you. Not all Shinra employees were like the Turks and executives. But you were still bitter at how content the employees were with this company. It’s sickening.

When you left your home across from Leaf House on your second day off, you had fully intended to spend the day stocking up on groceries and helping either Aerith or Miss Folia. What you didn’t expect was to run into a duo of Turks when you stepped over the bridge to Aerith’s house. The duo had stopped to stand just outside of Aerith’s house, clearly speaking to one another and absolutely intending to enter the residence. The moment you’d cleared the bridge and walked into sight, you paused with wide eyes and gingerly took a step back, hoping to walk away without drawing any of their attention towards you.

You didn’t want to be seen outside work. Much less while you were wearing the sundress that Aerith had insisted you get for yourself. It was girly and feminine, and not at all professional. But still, Aerith had asked you to bring her flower baskets back home while she helped look for the Leaf House kids, who had all gone on patrol again.

Unfortunately, the bridge creaked under your foot, and two pairs of eyes were suddenly turned to stare you. “Uh…” you faltered for a moment before raising a hand in greeting, “Hi?” The end of the word pitched up into a squeak and you suddenly wanted to dive off the bridge and escape.

Recognition appeared in a familiar redhead’s eyes, “Pencil pusher! Didn’t think I’d see you here of all places!” The bald man with the shades coughed and glanced towards his coworker with raised brows.

Growling indignantly, you stomped a foot and approached the two Turks, “Don’t call me that!”

“And why not? You never gave me your name.” Reno pouted dramatically, “How’s it fair that you have mine, but I don’t know yours?”

Your expression doesn’t budge the slightest, “It’s Y/N. I work in the Urban Development Department. And I know yours because there’s only one redheaded Turk that draws in so much gossip.”

That infuriating smirk was back on Reno’s face as he pat the taller man’s shoulder roughly, “Ya hear that, Rude? The people know me.” Rude looked like he wanted to say something, if the slightest twitch of the brow and parting of the lips was any indicator. Unfortunately, the stoic looking Turk didn’t get a chance to respond before his partner opened his mouth again. “So… Y/N, huh? Cute name, cute face… it’s a wonder that I haven’t seen you in HQ before yesterday.” The statement seemed innocent enough, except for the strange look in his eyes.

For Shinra’s version of secret service, you already knew where this line of inquiry was leading to. So you stared at Reno dispassionately, “Yup, it’s an absolute wonder that a Turk such as you, who has to work outside the building most days, has never seen my face in the five years that I’ve been employed at Shinra. It’s not as if I’m just a faceless grunt among a few thousand office workers who are also cooped up in their offices during the work day.” Rolling your eyes, you continued forward, practically bulldozing your way past Reno when he didn’t move aside with his partner. “Now, if you’ll excuse me,” You waltzed up the front steps, raising the weaved basket in your hand, “I’ve got a basket to drop off. If you’re looking for Aerith, she’s not home, yet.”

There’s a sound of a metal baton snapping to full length behind you, “If you hurt her…”

Sighing in annoyance, you turned to glare at Reno, who seemed to look like he was going to charge at you with the stun baton. Rude, likewise, was in a combat ready position. “And why the hell would I hurt her?” You hissed, propping a hand on your waist. “Don’t just come to random conclusions. I’m simply here as a favor to her, she’s in the town helping Leaf House.” Waving your hand in a shooing motion, you turned to open the front door, “You Turks are all about the mission, right? So, go!”

Maybe you shouldn’t have been so antagonistic… maybe you shouldn’t have turned around. Because the next thing you know, your arm is yanked backwards, and you’re suddenly pinned facedown to the front porch floor, arms restrained behind you and the painfully tingly end of the baton jabbed into your back. The scream that left your lips was one of outrage, fear, and pain. “What the hell!” You cry out, tears in your eyes as you try to struggle.

“Y/N!” The front door of the Gainsborough household pulled open to reveal Elmyra, who cried out in horror at the scene before her. Before long, the blonde woman had settled on shoving Reno off you, “Get off of her! Just what do you think you’re doing?!” Startled into falling off of you, Reno merely stared wide eyed at the enraged woman, who gestured for you to run as she laid into the jerk with her words.

With Reno no longer pinning you down, your limbs were able to finally take on a more natural position, though the stabbing pain from having them forced into an unnatural position still remained even as you clambered to your feet and sprinted away from the house. Rude didn’t bother to stop you, going so far as to step way off the path to let you through. You didn’t look back as you ran, not even stopping to greet Aerith as she crossed the wooden bridge.

When you were safe in your shabby second floor apartment, you did everything you could to get rid of the pain in your limbs, stretching them out and massaging them.

No such luck.

The pain remained, following you into the next day as you prepared to head back to work. Luckily for you, your job mostly consisted of office work. Signing and arranging paperwork, project reports, and other desk work.

Unluckily for you, you were the only person in the department with your first name. When you returned to your office from lunch, rubbing an aching limb, Reno awaited you, leaning against your desk. The moment you saw him, you paused and walked out of the office intent on avoiding the Turk that had caused you bodily harm.

From behind, Reno sprinted after you, “Y/N! Buddy! Wait up!”

“I don’t see you. I don’t hear you. You are absolutely, definitely not following me right now.” You muttered, not turning your head from its fixed position staring straight and down. If I can just get my ass to Reeve’s office, he’ll leave me alone. If I can just get my slow ass, in these stupid heels, to Reeve’s office, he’ll leave me alone.

Reno, for his part, had no problems keeping up with you, catching up and strolling along beside you, making you growl inwardly in frustration. “Y/N, c’mon. I’m sorry about yesterday. Slow down, you’re going to-”

An uneven part of the carpet failed to catch your notice until your foot caught it, sending you sprawling toward. Ah shit. This is gonna hurt. You muttered to yourself, bracing yourself for impact and closing your eyes… only for the impact to come sooner than expected… and less painful than you expected… I’m still upright? You questioned yourself, opening your eyes to find yourself being held up by Reno, face practically buried in his open shirt and his arms gently holding onto both of your arms.

“See.” The cocky expression was gone now. Only mild annoyance remained as he made sure you could stand on your own two feet, roughly kicking at the uneven carpet in an effort to smooth it down.

“I… thanks.” You finished lamely, slightly unsure as to what had just happened, but glad that you were saved a few bruises… and probably a more severe injury to your limbs.

Reno raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms, “Can we talk now?”

You wanted to say no, the memory of being pinned down and tasered still fresh in your mind, but by the Planet, the jerk had just saved you from further injury, hadn’t he? The heavy sigh and slump of your shoulder betrayed your reluctance even as you agreed to speak to the redheaded Turk. “Yeah, fine.”

The Turk second in command seemed surprised that you’d agreed, a breathy and relieved “Great” leaving his mouth as he followed your lead back to your small office.

As you walked the short distance back to your office, you kept a bit of distance from Reno whilst attempting to block out the stares from your fellow colleagues. I can practically hear the gossip spreading now. Oh, did you hear? Y/N’s in a relationship with Reno. Oh, Y/N probably got in trouble with the company if the Turks are investigating them. The thoughts only worsened when you entered your office and Reno closed the door behind him. And that’s my cue to put as much distance as possible between us. You thought to yourself, shuffling to stand behind the desk. Yes, because a waist high wooden structure is enough protection against a Turk…smart. Reallll smart.

“You know, I’m not going to hurt you, right?” Reno looked slightly put out and frustrated at the fact that you had immediately shuffled behind your desk. And you had to hand it to him… despite his reputation as a bit of spazz, his observation skills were fitting for a member of the Turks.

“Tell that to my poor arms.” You spat, rolling your shoulders in another unsuccessful attempt to alleviate the pain that remained from yesterday.

Reno deflates a little when you wince in pain, and lightly scratches his cheek. “Yeah… about that… my bad.”

“Your bad…” you mimicked back at Reno with a hint of disbelief. “Heck yeah it’s your bad! I mean what the hell! What kind of a reason did you have for assaulting a civilian!?”

“That’s uh… we were assigned to look after Aerith… and the way you were acting yesterday… I thought you did something to her.” The explanation that came pouring out of the redheaded Turk’s mouth was lacking, but you let him continue because oh boy did the man sound like a certified walking mess. “And um… I reacted too harshly… which is totally my bad. And I know that’s no excuse, and I’ve already gotten an earful from Elmyra, Rude, and Tseng, so… what I’m saying is… I’m sorry.”

…he looks like a kicked puppy. You muttered to yourself, heaving a sigh as you sat down at your desk and allowed your posture to relax just the slightest. “Fine, apology accepted, but my shoulders still hurt like I got trampled by a fiend. How the hell do I get it to stop?” Apology vaguely accepted, you just wanted him to stop giving you that look.

“I uh… figured that you’d still be in pain.” Reno winced before sheepishly slipping a hand into his pocket and pulling out a beautiful glowing green materia, “It might be overkill, but casting Cure will get rid of the ache-ah… if you’re okay with it?”

You wondered offhandedly what Elmyra had said to Reno for his behavior to have shifted so drastically towards you. Look at the Turk now, you figured that there was no harm in befriending the man. Besides, you probably needed more outgoing friends anyways. “If it’ll get rid of the ache, go ahead, Reno.”

The smile on his face was almost boyish as his arm glowed faintly, casting the healing spell on you. “One full body stress reliever coming right up!” Hm… maybe he’s not that bad after all. The spell was like a wave of relief, not only alleviating the pain from yesterday, but also taking away the tension from months and months of stress. “Feeling better?”

The groan of relief that escaped your lips was probably enough answer for Reno as you stretched, a smile on your lips appearing at the redheaded Turk’s chuckle. “Much better, thank you.”

A moment passed between the two of you until the silence was broken by the sound of Reno’s phone. You couldn’t see the caller ID, but by the way he picked up almost immediately, you guessed that it was his boss, Tseng. “Hey-” The redheaded man was cut off from his greeting as he listened, “Yeah, I just finished…” Blue eyes met yours as he mouth, ‘got to go.’

Reno started to move just as you gave him a farewell salute, smirking when the Turk simply winked back at you before the door to your office closed.

Although you initially didn’t expect the day to turn out so well, you went back to work in a good mood. I guess being friendly to Reno won’t be such a bad thing. As the day passed, your mind absentmindedly wondered when you would see him again.

December 11th… Twenty-four days and seven hours later

“Oho, staying late again?”

A familiar voice broke you out of your furious scribbling while you once again stayed late to progress further in the piles of maintenance reports on the plates. And while you were tired from staring at black and white letters all day, you pushed aside the cranky attitude to at least smile and greet Reno as he approached your usual corner table. “Hi, Reno.” You raise a brow at the drink tray in his hands and gesture for him to sit wherever. “Late night for you, too?”

Reno shrugged and took the seat just to your left, setting the tray down on a spot free of paperwork, “Turks are always on call.” He handed over a covered paper cup, “Coffee?”

“Oh boy, yes please.” You beamed ecstatically when the redhead handed you the heavenly drink. “I’ve been working on this project proposal for the past… I don’t know how long… and it’s just… so much.”

Taking a sip of his own caffeinated drink, Reno took a peek at one of the files sitting on the table. “Huh… ‘Maintenance Walkways In Hazardous State of Disrepair’…’Infested with Mako Mutated Fiends’… I forgot you worked in urban development. What’s Reeve got ya doin that requires so many late nights?”

Despite his asking, Reno made no further attempts at reading the papers on the cafeteria table. Pursing your lips, you eyed the Turk second in command for a long moment, regarding him with as much suspicion as he had directed towards you nearly a month ago. It was well known throughout Shinra that the corporation had bigger goals and aspirations than to serve the people. There were many in the company that truly believed in the work that Shinra did, but as someone who had lived in the slums all your life, and one of the project leaders within Shinra’s Urban Development Division, you held no such illusions of grandeur. With the exception of Reeve, the higher ups in Shinra had no qualms of neglecting the public, only paying attention to the people beneath their feet in order to satisfy their egos and prevent rowdy citizens from forming anti-Shinra groups like AVALANCHE. Reno, a Turk, had to answer to the President and Vice President of Shinra directly, and everything they do is by the will of the two highest powers in the company. If you told Reno of the plate restoration project… would it cause a negative reaction within the company?

“If I tell you, Reno… you have to keep quiet about it.” Despite being tired, you leveled the red head with a grave stare.

Reno raised his arms and displayed his palms out in a ‘I’m harmless’ manner. “If it doesn’t have anything to do with an assassination attempt or terrorist attack, my lips are sealed.” The Turk shrugged, “And if you don’t want to tell me, you don’t have to. I mostly came here to keep you caffeinated… and to ask if you wanted to grab dinner sometime?”

Well… that came out of left field.

The blush that rose to your cheeks made your embarrassment pretty clear to Reno, who hummed and leaned forward to observe you closer. “Huh… Red’s a good look on you.”

The wink that the Turk sent your way did not help you calm down. “That’s not… uh… why?” Why was Reno asking you out to dinner? You’d known each other for all of twenty something days… not that it was completely unusual for individuals your age to go on dates… if this even was a date.

“I figure you could do with a night free of worries.” Reno explained, now positioning himself to lean on the table towards you. “Plus I get to take a beautiful woman out to dinner.”

You raised a hand to stop his flirting, knowing the rumors that spread throughout the company of Reno’s flirtatious ways. “I accept, but it’s just dinner, okay? I shouldn’t stay out too late.”

The red head seemed happy that you accepted, but pouted nonetheless, “Well then… that’s boring. I was thinking of taking you out drinking with Rude and I.”

You gesture towards the paperwork all over the table, “I have to get the work done eventually, Reno.”

“Fine…” the sigh that left Reno sounded more like a whine than acceptance. The mischievous smirk did nothing to ease your concerns as Reno stood up to help you clean up the piles of paper and notes. “C’mon, the sooner we clean up here, the sooner we can get some grub into your growling stomach.”

“My stomach is not-” Gurrrggghhh… You blushed crimson when your stomach cried out for food.

“You were saying?” Reno raised a brow, mirth glinting in his blue eyes as you tried to act nonchalantly.

“…” Snatching the last of the paperwork on the table and shoving it into your bag, you sniffed in embarrassment, “We’re dropping this stuff off in my office before we go anywhere.”

The red headed Turk actually had the audacity to smirk and salute you.

… Twenty minutes later, you found yourself in a car heading towards Sector Eight… Although Reno had advertised the outing as a dinner between just the two of you, the two of you somehow found yourselves seated in the back seats of the vehicle while Rude drove and Tseng sat in shotgun. Glancing to the side at Reno, he seemed at a loss for words for once, blue eyes glaring sulkingly at the back of Tseng’s head.

“So, Y/N, as I understand it, you work closely with Reeve Tuesti?” Tseng asked, his eyes meeting yours in the rearview mirror despite its angle.

Somehow, you felt like you were about to get interrogated by Reno’s ‘parents,’ if the groan of exasperation from the red head beside you wasn’t enough of a give away.

“Um… I would say closely enough. I’m one of his project leaders, but even that title can be grossly overestimated.” The explanation leaves your lips before you can so much as think, “Because I work on projects that focus on the slums, most of my time is spent doing research and putting together proposals for projects that urgently need to be addressed.” Not that any of my proposals have been accepted thus far. You left the last statement unsaid, and your bitterness at the company unheard. Still, the discontent must have shown on your face, as Tseng started to speak again.

“Do you not like your job?” Such a simple question, but not something you could answer simply. The pleasant smile on the Turk commander’s face, which you glimpsed from the side view mirror, told you that he was well aware that you would have to expand your answer.

Wincing, you turned your gaze away to stare out the window as the car pulled off the highway. “I don’t dislike it, no… but I took the job as project leader in order to help make a difference for my community. But every project proposal that I’ve drawn up and presented has been turned down by the people that have a say in the company.” The sneer that started to form froze before smoothing into a less intense expression as you took in a deep breath and exhaled. “Sorry. Forget I said anything.”

“If you only wanted to help your community, then why take a job at Shinra? And why didn’t you simply quit?” Tseng was prodding at you, knowing that you knew what he was doing.

“Uh, Boss? Bit of a touchy subject, yeah?” Reno protested, sending very clear glares at Tseng’s way.

The Turk commander’s lips twitched in the slightest of smiles, “My apologies, Y/N. I didn’t mean to press you.”

Didn’t mean to press me, my ass! What the hell is this? Another round of ‘Y/N is a suspicious person?’ You thought with a lot of snark, outwardly shrugging, “You Turks certainly do live up to your reputation.” When Tseng rose a brow and Reno stared at your questioningly, you elaborated with another shrug, “The questioning… the false pretenses… you guys are very good at what you do, but…” Sighing, you shook your head and decided to shut your mouth, “Nevermind. Forget it. So long as you’re good to Elmyra and Aerith, I don’t give a damn if you guys restrain me and take me in for questioning.”

“…I thought I already said sorry for that!” Reno pouted, a wounded expression on his face.

The car stopped in front of a restaurant, but you were no longer hungry. Glancing down at your watch, you feigned a sigh, “Well, looks like I won’t be joining you guys for dinner tonight. I just realized that I had something to do in Sector 5.”

“Wait… hold on-”

“Would you like us to give you a lift?” Rude offered, cutting Reno off from his protests.

Bowing your head, you made to get out of the vehicle. “No, thank you. I appreciate the offer, but I’m fine taking the train back. I’m sorry for the trouble. I’ll see you three at work tomorrow.”

With that, you slid out of the car, shutting the door with as little force necessary before strolling down the street towards the train station. After turning the corner, you paused and sighed, shaking your head at the dinner plans. If you were being honest, you were actually quite excited to have dinner with Reno. He had turned out to be more thoughtful and intuitive than you had first pinned him as. Maybe we can have dinner alone next time. Suddenly hopeful, you resumed your gait towards the train station. If you hurried, you could catch the next train back and be in time to eat at the restaurant around the corner from your home.

“Y/N!” A familiar voice called out to you, accompanied by the sound of sprinting dress shoes, just as you were about to enter the train platform.

“Reno?!” You stared at the red head as he sprinted the last few meters to stop in front of you, perplexed and worried that he’d run all the way to the train station. The people sharing the train platform stared at the pair of you even as the train pulled into the station. “I… um… thought you were going to have dinner with Rude and Tseng? Did you need something?” You asked, glancing towards the train as it opened its doors.

“Y-you…” Reno gasped, clearly panting for breath despite the fact that he was supposed to be used to this. “You don’t work tomorrow.”

Tilting your head to the side, you admired Reno for a moment, pleased with his listening skills during the times that you spoke. “You’re right. No, I don’t.” You watched as the passengers all started boarding the train. “Reno… I have to catch this train, what is it?”

“Let me walk you home!” the red headed Turk suggested, straightening up and gently taking your wrist in his.

“Wait… What?” What the hell-

“It’ll be fun.” Reno didn’t give you much of a choice, as he led you aboard the train, careful not to tug on your arm too roughly. Once the doors slid close, the red head smirked at your completely baffled expression, “I promised you a dinner date, didn’t I?”

Your turned red as you stuttered, completely conscious of the stares incoming from the other passengers. “But what about Rude and Tseng? How are you going to get home after?”

Reno grinned, “They’re the ones who ruined our plans in the first place, so of course I’m ditching ‘em. And if I need to head home, I’ll just head back with the infantrymen stationed in Sector 5. So don’t worry.” Then, as if realizing that your face was growing more and more red because he was now holding your hand and had moved just a breath away, Reno coughed and backed up. Letting go of your hand, the embarrassed Turk raised a hand to scratch his cheek in the same nervous tic that you’d noticed before. “Anyways, let’s find a seat, okay? It’s been a long day for you… so if you want to take a breather…” Reno’s voice trailed off as the two of you shuffled through the cart to find a pair of empty seats.

Once seated, you sighed and leaned back on the uncomfortable bench. “Five years ago, I was living with my parents in the Sector 7 Slums. My father was an infantryman in Shinra’s army, and my mother was just a regular housewife. Around that time, fiend attacks had mysteriously started to increase… and people started to go missing. My mother went missing one night, and my father was a part of the infantry that was sent to investigate.” The dull ache in your chest increased as you thought back to the events years ago. “Neither of the two came back, and suddenly I was alone. But… I wasn’t the only one who lost a loved one that day.”

“So, that’s when you decided to do something to help your community?” Reno muttered, having turned to pull you into a hug, “But why Shinra? The slums have neighborhood watches that you could have joined…. Oh… eh… but you don’t have to tell me if you’re not up to it.”

Leaning your head to rest on Reno’s shoulder, you chuckled, “You don’t have to worry about walking on eggshells with me, Reno. I mostly gave Tseng a hard time because he was being too nosey.”

“Well… that’s good to know.” The Turk gave a light hearted laugh of his own, relaxing in his mannerisms. “Felt like I was standing on trial for a moment there.”

Rolling your eyes, you elbowed Reno in the side lightly. “Drama queen. But anyways, after mom and dad disappeared, a SOLDIER and his protege were assigned to hunt down the fiends. Before they started their hunt, they made a point to visit all the families that lost someone from the fiends attacks. It was sweet of them, taking the time to check up on us. And it’s because of them that I decided to work at Shinra. That if those two truly believed in the company that employed them, that I would be able to make a difference if only I had those same resources.” The smile on your face turned bitter once you started to think about those two. “After three years, I found out later that both mentor and mentee were quite popular in Midgar… and that they had died.”

“I think I know the two you’re talking about.” Reno muttered, gaze taking on a far away glint. “It’s good to know that they left behind a legacy.”

“They left behind more than a legacy.” You whispered with a fond smile, “Zack’s fanclub became the inspiration for Sector 5’s neighborhood watch. They all wield wooden replicas of Angeal’s sword.”

“A new generation of heroes, huh?” Reno smirked and closed his eyes, “I bet Zack would be ecstatic.” Blue eyes suddenly meet yours, a brightness in them as Reno addressed you, “Be honest, were you part of that fanclub?”

“And if I was?” You raised a brow, glad that the tone of conversation had shifted back to something light hearted.

Reno pouted and slumped in his seat, pulling you along as he playfully whined, “Where’s my fanclub? I want groups of people singing my praises, too!”

“Now you’re just being silly.” You chided, amused by the man’s antics. When Reno continued to pout, you rolled your eyes, playing along. “Fine. Then from now on, you can count me as your first fanclub member.” You raised your head to look him in the eye, “Happy now?”

The hug tightened, but Reno stuck out his tongue in reply. “Eh… I don’t think I can handle having a fanclub. Too much noise. Nah. I’m good.”

This time, you didn’t bother holding back your strength when elbowing him.

…… Around twenty minutes later, the pair of you departed the train with the rest of its passengers, and found yourself seated at your favorite noodle restaurant in Sector 5. Although it was thirty minutes before closing, the boss and chef knew you well enough to take your orders without much of a fuss. While the food was being prepared, you and Reno swapped stories about work and random weird stories.

“-I’m serious about the doomrats! They’re always appearing in Sector 7, stealing random shit and everything! My entire childhood was spent with threats of doomrats coming to steal my toys! My friend, Eli, her entire toy house was taken when her side of the sector was overrun with the pests!” You laughed in between bites of noodles.

“But that’s nowhere near as bad as having to deal with Hojo!” Reno protested, a string of noodles slipping out of his mouth to hang against his mouth. “The guy just takes things without telling anyone and somehow it returns with a bunch of stains on it! It’s like he has no regard for anything outside of his research.”

Your brain brought up a memory of passing Professor Hojo in the hallway once, and you let out a full body shiver. “Ugh… yeah… he does give off that whole… egotistic mad scientist vibe… sometimes, I wonder what the hell is so important that we have to devote so many floors to his research lab.”

“Y/N?” Reno’s humor suddenly disappears.

You blink, startled by the change, “Yeah?”

“No matter what happens… stay away from Hojo, okay?” There’s some concern in his eyes and tone, but he doesn’t elaborate.

You don’t know how else to respond to a somber Reno than to reluctantly nod your head, “Yeah. Okay. He gives me the creeps, so that’s not a problem.”

“I mean it, Y/N. If anyone in the company tells you to bring something to Hojo, you refuse. And if it’s a higher up, you come to me first.” The intensity in his stare is startling.

“Got it, Reno.” Not knowing what to do, you reached out to lightly poke his cheek, “C’mon, I know you have your own reason to be concerned, but I work in urban development. There’s little to no chance that I would have to cross paths with Hojo. So, let’s finish our noodles and stop worrying, okay?”

Reno pauses for a brief moment, taking in a breath and letting it out, a small smile making an appearance again. “Okay. Fine.” Reaching into his pocket, Reno pulls out more than enough gil for your meal and stands up, leaving the money on the table and offering a hand to you, “Let’s getcha back home, okay? It’s gettin late.”

Trailing after the red headed Turk, you stared at his back with a questioning stare. Though you pretended like the sudden shift in attitude from Reno hadn’t alarmed you, your thoughts kept shifting to linger upon the warning that Reno had wanted to make sure you understood. I feel like… something bad will happen if I don’t listen to him… When Reno stopped just outside your apartment building across from Leaf House, you tilted your head to the side, “Why am I not surprised that you know where I live? That’s kind of creepy, ya know?”

Reno startled, spluttering excuses as he let go of your hand and backed up, the warmth from his palm instantly being missed. “I ugh… You know it’s my job-and I just wanted-cause Tseng’s super paranoid about people close to-I’m just gonna shut up now.” The Turk second in command stopped his muttering when he noticed the teasing glint in your eyes, “Oh, ha ha. Very funny.”

“C’mon, Reno. You think I was going to miss my chance at teasing you?” The grin on your face was infectious, prompting Reno to return your easy-going smile.

Gesturing to the two story building, Reno bowed, “I will rest easy knowing that you got home safely, my lady.”

“Oh my!” You gasped, a hand raised to rest against your chest in mock surprise, “What a gentleman!”

There was a silence before the two of you burst into laughter that was probably too loud for that time of night. From down the street, you could hear one of the residents open their window and shout, “Fer cryin out loud, would ya lovebirds shut up! People are tryin ta sleep!”

Stifling your laugh, you practically danced towards the metal stairway leading up to the second floor apartments. “I guess that’s my cue to get inside.”

Reno’s eyes glinted as he stared after you fondly, “Yeah…” There was brief pause before he spoke up again, “Hey, Y/N? Let’s go out for a proper date… maybe, tomorrow or the day after?”

“Yeah, I’d like that.” You smiled as the agreement fell from your lips without much thought except the want to get to know the man before you better. “I’ll be at my friend’s place celebrating her birthday tomorrow, but I don’t have plans for the day after.”

“Great!” Reno gasped, seemingly breathless as he took a step towards you, “I’ll pick you up at 10, then?”

“Ten works for me!” You agreed, watching the red headed Turk as he closed the distance between the two of you, closing your eyes as you expected something to happen, only to feel a hand rest on your cheek before pulling away.

Confused, you opened your eyes just in time to catch Reno’s smile as he turned away. “I don’t kiss on the first date.” A wink is sent your way as he rounds the corner, disappearing from sight. “Sweet dreams, Y/N.”

You don’t know if you want to squeal at the gesture, or punch him for leaving you hanging. Biting your bottom lip in a manner befitting anticipation, you turned to climb up the rest of the stairs with a smile, very much looking forward to the next two days.

When Reno returned to Shinra HQ for the night, Elena would make note of the stupidly happy grin on her senpai’s face… even when he was handed a datapad containing the plans for the next night’s operation.

December 12th

The following night…

You grinned as you watched your friend, Selene, open up her gifts from each member of your friend group. She had just been accepted at her dream career of being a planetary conservationist, and was due to move away from Midgar tomorrow. Though her apartment was empty, you and your friends had brought enough food for the lot of you while you all celebrated and bid your goodbyes to a long time friend.

“Let us know if you meet any handsome guys where you are!” you heard someone joke, patting Selene on the back with a teasing grin. “City men aren’t romantic at all!”

“Hey! I resent that! We’re not all bad!”

“No… she’s right. We’re not romantic.”

Maybe it was the good vibes and laughter that prevented you all from noticing when the ground started shaking. Maybe you had all indulged a little too much on the alcohol. Regardless, no one was laughing when a large steel beam crashed through the apartment roof and landed on top of where Selene had been standing with her parents.

The room descended into shocked silence as all eyes stared at the metal beam…the crumbling ceiling…the limbs sticking out from under the mess of rebar, concrete, and wire…and the blood… All of your faces went pale at the realization of what happened. And then, the panic.

“Oh god!”

“Selene!”

“Someone call emergency services!”

“Help me lift this thing up!”

“So… much blood.”

Stumbling backwards, your eyes darted from the rubble to the moving bodies in the apartment before looking at the hole in the apartment ceiling. The beam could only have been from the plate… But how had it fallen? Had a piece been loose this entire time? …Had this been your fault? You were in charge of the plate maintenance project… you hadn’t read any reports about structure integrity over Sector 7… but maybe there had been something hidden. You shook your head in denial. No, the project proposal was sitting on your desk at Shinra HQ, nearly finished except for the conclusion. There had been nothing irregular about the plate above the Sector 7 slums. Not even when you’d gone personally with the inspectors to investigate.

And then, above the shouting voices and confusion within the apartment, you heard it. Helicopters and gunfire… people screaming outside.

“No…” you whimpered, eyes wide as you sprinted for the front door, throwing the latch open and ramming yourself into the metal door in your rush to get out onto the apartment balcony hallway.

Now that the door was wide open… now that you stood with a view of the Sector 7 Slums, the cacophony of screams and noises reached your ears with no problem. The plate above groaned as explosions detonated along the underside of its structure, sending larges pieces of debris crashing down like meteors upon the residential buildings below. You could see several Shinra helicopters flying away from the plate pillar, where the explosions seem to have originated from. Down in the streets below, the residents of Sector 7 scramble in different directions to avoid being crushed by the seemingly crumbling night sky.

“The plate’s falling!” You cried out to your remaining friends before making a break towards the stairway down to the ground floor, ensuring that the path was clear before waving your friends over. Just as you stepped off the stairs, another massive explosion rumbled violently from above you, the sheer volume of the noise popping your ears and throwing off your balance. A random civilian ran in your direction, screaming and flailing his arms, knocking you down in his haste to get away from another falling metal beam.

You’d landed on your arm wrong, but the adrenaline running through your body kept you moving as you stumbled to your feet and trailed after your friends. Behind you, another giant piece of the plate crashed into Selene’s apartment building with such force that the ground beneath your feet shook as the structure caved in on itself. You watched as people fled from their homes, as fires started and spread. You watched as people begged to be rescued, their limbs trapped under flaming metal and wood. You continued to stumble forwards even when rubble rained down upon you all like hellfire, crushing the unlucky many on the path ahead of you and blocking you off.

You wanted to cry… or maybe you were already crying. All around you, the plate continued to fall, blocking you off from any means of escape. Your ears rang from the magnitude of noises. Your arm had begun to ache from your fall. The flames consuming the houses rose in intensity, scorching your surroundings while you fought to maintain your balance. Trying, among the chaos, to find a way out of this impossible situation. But no. If you went one way or the other, you would be burned severely. Any other way would require you to pick through pieces of metal that were easily ten times your body weight.

Another explosion, this time coming from the direction of the pillar, sent you crashing to the floor from the force it left in its wake.

I hope you all made it out of here. You prayed to the Planet that your friends had gotten out of Sector 7. Looking up towards the falling sky, you could only sob as it fell too fast for your liking. Resigned, you brought out your phone, intent on calling a certain red headed Turk one more time.

“Hey, Reno. It’s me, Y/N…” you dry swallowed and held back another sob, hand raising to muffle your cries of misery. “I just wanted you to know that I’m glad that I met you. I’m really annoyed that you didn’t kiss me yesterday night, and I-” the line on your phone beeped to signal a disconnect, and you pulled the phone away to stare hopelessly at the screen.

No signal.

A bitter laugh escaped your lips as you bent forward, pressing your face to the cracked glass screen. A shadow swallowed your figure whole as the last of the plate fell down. “Reno…”

“I was really looking forward to our date.”

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

Thank you for reading!

#shian imagines #reno #ffvii reno #final fantasy vii reno #final fantasy vii remake #final fantasy vii #ffvii #ffvii remake #reno x reader #mentions of other characters #rude #ffvii rude #tseng #ffvii tseng #x reader angst

244 notes · View notes

another-cancer · 3 years

Text

Season 3 Akumatizations

Part 1 and Part 2

This is the last part of me going through all the akumatizations due to an impulse after seeing some Marinette slander.

Chameleon - Lila willingly get’s akumatized. Therefore, her negative emotions weren’t valid.

Animaestro - This was a collective effort of everyone but Marinette since she was the only one to know who he was, but he is also supposed to be Astruc and I mean mans put himself in his own cartoon about teenagers and god he is problematic on so many levels.

Bakerix - This man was definitely racist to Sabine at some point in life. He got akumatized over Marinette’s bread. She proved she could do it just as well using a different technique. He lost pretty fair and square.

Backwardar - Ah one of the biggest misunderstandings on the show that tell us Mari sucks at writing ‘love’ letters. But from her perspective the love of her life didn’t want them to be together. Valid reason to be akumatized.

Reflekdoll - Unpopular opinion this was Alya not Marinette’s fault. But guess what? At the end Mari apologizes and Alya didn’t. Alya is a queen who is way to focused on getting Adrienette together and an enabler to Mari’s more toxic behavior. Juleka’s akumatization was valid. Also it gave us Lady Noire.

Weredad - Mari caused this one by lying. But it was hilarious. The first thing she thought of was “I’m in love with you.” Tom should have listened to what Marinette and Chat was trying to tell him though and ultimately got himself akumatized by shipping his daughter too much.

Silencer - Fuck Bob Roth. Valid. Akuma design was questionable but that declaration of love was amazing. Kinda ironic that this comes after Weredad in production order. Luka deserves better.

Oni-Chan - Kagami got akumatized for the wrong and right reasons. Idk this is complicated due to the fact the creator’s don’t seem like they are ever going to address the harassment issues on the show. I’m glad Kagami got akumatized I just wish it was because Adrien looked uncomfortable being kissed by Lila.

Miraculer. - Chloe. Valid. Wait a minute tho I swear Sabrina got akumatized twice once into the invisible girl.

Oblivio - No one caused this. They were making out in a closet and got caught.

Desperada - Jagged. They were fired I’d be pissed too. Also this changes so much with the new things we learn about Jagged in season 4. I mean like ruin’s his character changes things.

Christmaster - I also hate this kid. They need better children on this show one’s who don’t flip out over absolutely nothing.

Startrain - She got rejected from a fancy space program/job. Valid.

Kwami Buster - To be fair she should have looked more carefully at her evidence before going on TV with her thing. Especially, a show with Alec as the host. As we already established he’s an ass.

Feast (this is an amouk)

Gamer 2.0 - People were busy and that’s not their fault. The show needs to stop making it seem Mari is a bad friend while they continue to pile shit up on her. Also Max could have just waited a while.

Stormy Weather 2 - Chloe. This was definitely valid.

Ikari Gozen - Kagami’s mom is awful.

Timetagger - We don’t know. But I hate Chris so much.

Party Crasher - Adrien should have invited him as for if this is valid idk it kinda seems like an over reaction but at the same time everyone has cried once about not being invited for a party. Also how Mari was comfortable with being in a room with all men I will never know. And that party looked like it smelt.

Puppeteer 2 - Manon is the root of all problems. Goodbye.

Chat Blanc - Gabriel being an ass. Valid. This probably traumatized Mari.

Felix - Felix caused the three akuma’s in this eisode and they did this man so dirty. He was supposed to be hot in the PV and an MC. I hate this episode so much.

Ladybug (this is an amouk)

Loveater - Gabriel, not going to go into this.

Miracle Queen - I hate that she took the akuma willingly she was doing so well. I hate this episode and Chloe deserved better. She only caused two akuma’s this season. AHHH.

In conclusion, Mari is slightly problematic but she isn’t causing akuma’s. Chloe had growth the writers threw away. All the children are the worse. Thank you for coming to my TedTalk.

#miraculous #mlb #miraculous season 3 #ml marinette #on this blog we stan mari #akumatization

10 notes · View notes

hhjs · 4 years

Text

kismet.

pairing ⇨ yoo taeyang x reader.

alternatively ⇨soulmates, royalty. more specifically, prince!taeyang + royal librarian!reader.

In both a hopeless desire to love and admiration for a blatant stranger, Taeyang finds love by a twist of fate.

wherein, soulmates are bounded together by shared scars.

warnings ⇨ elaborate descriptions of wounds.

word count ⇨1.9k

type ⇨mini fic.

The gash on his palm was a pink, golden stretch, giving the illusion of a simple graze. It used to look as though an animal had dug its claw in and tore it open - and he imagined it, imagined the scenarios his soulmate put themselves in to acquire such a dramatic wound.

He envisioned the sharp pain of a kitchen knife running along their palm in the split second while they're committed to a harmless task of chopping vegetables. He often found himself smiling at the thought, imagined himself rushing to help, cleaning it as he scolded them, these images helped Taeyang fill an endless hollow inside his chest that was evidence of his remoteness, even if the relief was temporary.

His innate brevity and intense inability to produce dramatic expressions of his emotions subsequently reduced him to a limping thing going through a abundance of unspeakably articulate individuals, someone who was to carry the weight of their despondence like it was the only thing that mattered and his world, a world of war and peace, the endless crowns passed down to his father and his father's father, a world that conditioned him to hide his true self under the unspoken bravado of being a prince, it had.

The library was a dramatically architectured room, giant shelves stretched for a few thousand feet, spines of a wide variety of novels sticking out, some new, some old, some shoved upside down. The tables were wide, even the relatively small ones designed for one person, little lamps perched up on each corner.

Behind them, laid different stories, of concentrated faces of scholars, astronomer, flustered faces of couples who've secretly kissed behind the foreign literature section, faces struggling to keep their focus and resorting to tapping their fingers and frowning - he's seen it all and he couldn't quite name what which category you belonged to.

"Like this." Placing a neem leaf between the pages, you beamed up at him in a way that made him feel as though he couldn't ever forget you. He said nothing, staring down curiously, in an umpteenth attempt that week, to act on his desire to act on his attraction for you, "That'll keep bookworms away."

Sensing his excessively lengthy stay, he finally nods, reaching out to accept the thick spined novel and just for a second your fingers brush up against his knuckles and linger, in a barely-there, airy gesture.

It's in this sudden ephiphanous moment, Taeyang decides that his concern for being absurdly lonely was less important than chancing upon you again.

…

"Watch where you're going." The tone of your voice was surprisingly chirpy for someone who just knocked over a heap of novels whilst they carried on a careless pursuit of practically leaping to their destination. It amused Taeyang.

In a confused fashion, he furrowed his eyebrows, pursing his lips as you attempted to collect the items quickly, piling them again into an unsteady heap. "You bumped into me." The calm reminder came from him, insinuating that you ought to take your own advice.

The sheepish design of your face greatly piqued his interest, if not the way your eyes widened when you immediately recognised him by his princely position and subsequently rendered an apologetic smile. It was different from the usual veil of confidence you wore when you worked tirelessly at the library. "Pardon me!" You quickly exclaimed, blinking profusely.

"You're pardoned."

Taeyang noted the immediate look of relief on your face whilst he knelt to your position, picking up the remaining set of the dropped elements with great care - but instead of returning them to your expectant hand, he held it snuggly against his chest. "if...if you let me help." He added, peering up at you from behind his lashes, only to find that you were nodding, in all but a poor attempt to bite down a gigantic smile.

...

Taeyang will admit that he doesn't rely on the truth to make "coincidental" visitations to the royal library - he just wanted to see you and in his defence, there was no way to be honest about how he felt without potentially embarrassing himself by blubbering nonsense he'd come up with whilst thinking over elongating conversations with you.

All he knew was he liked the way your eyes travelled over the ups and downs of words, sentences and how you pressed his thumb against the corner of a page before flipping it so there wouldn't be any creases.

He liked that you could always strike up a chat about the most random things, liked the way your mouth quivered when you'd try to stop yourself from smiling, liked how you two always forgot to take note of time, sitting hours tangled in a mix of silence and long stretches of talking deliberately with him, in the course of time, he developed the courage to grow closer to you just as he attempted; albeit, regardless of the fact that you seem to have become increasingly close, you never talk about your soulmate, or your scars or produce typical impassionate harangues about how fated you were to someone - not that it mattered.

In fact, whoever his soulmate was, he was sure he couldn't possibly grow half as fond of them as he is of you.

A bed of wet grass pressed up against his back, it was too cold and too dark and the moist earth was undoubtedly going to leave a nasty imprint on his milky tunic - but he didn't care, he didn't care about those trivial, unimportant, stupid things.

Because you were with him.

"Don't you ever wonder what it'd be like if they showed up? Your soulmate?"

Your question sounded more like a test than it did a question - dipping cautious toes in uncharted waters to see if the crocodile would leap and bite.

He tilted his head to you even though not a thing was visible in the intense black of the night.

It gave him immense pleasure to know that in spite of his hindered vision, he could still picture what your face might look like now, the slope of your nose, the anxious pinch of your eyebrows and a lopsided frown.

He shrugged, "Not really."

"Why not?" You asked, albeit the cheery ring to your voice seemed to determine that you were quite pleased with the answer, as if you've gained something in knowing he wasn't looking for someone else.

He scoffed in an offended fashion, like the answer's just that obvious, like you shouldn't have even asked, not allowing a single beat of silence to pass, he felt for your fingers in the dark and easily slipping his own ones, holding the interlaced pair up like it meant something to to him. "This." He said, "is more important to me than being lumped together by fate."

...

"Still practising, huh?"

Even in the acute quietude, vaguely disturbed by the distant sound of buzzing crickets and the slight crunch of twigs under his feet, the sudden sound of your all too familiar voice didn't startle him.

Taeyang pressed his finger down on the arrow's shaft and slowly retracted from a shooting position. Perspiration had effectively glued his fringe down to his forehead and he could feel his body slowly give away to overexertion. But it wasn't uncommon for him to push himself to a point of absolute lethargy when he put his mind to perfecting something, Taeyang was hardworking by nature.

Your face was yellow from the oil lantern you were holding up, your free hand was behind your back. Looking over his shoulder like this, he could make out that you were donning a look of utter worry, the colour barely found the lopsided curve of your mouth and disappeared all the way down to your throat, to the slope of your neck.

His chest heaved upwards and downwards from the heavy intakes and outtakes as he watched you in masked endearment.

Taeyang blinked, his curious expression replaced by a sudden look of apparent conclusion at the way your head's poised to stare at your toes. "Is something the matter?"

You produced a non committal hum and it startled him, the possibility of upsetting you when he hadn't intended to, Taeyang opened his mouth to say something but didn't know what exactly that something ought to be, so he closed it again.

You drew your hand from behind your back and held a digit up in the air, where the light caught on and he could clearly see a fresh scar atop.

It was earlier that day when it happened.

You ran your fingers along the smooth spine of a bent novel sticking out rather ungracefully.

All you could hear was nothing but the nervous ringing of your ears, the involuntary tremors of your excessively careful hand.

It wasn't like you to be so anxious at an unsuitable time like this. But there was an unsettling feeling inside your chest, like something was about to go wrong and yet you had no idea what that thing may be, the roaring and clapping and grumbling lightning before a cyclone hits.

You hissed, taking your injured skin into attention once you realised a deep wound had torn open on the tip of your index, it had an abysmal sting to it, the kind of sting that jolted up your spine and gave you a headache - but you stood frozen in your spot.

But you hadn't whipped your head about rapidly, searching for another person who could've been whelping in the aftermath of the same injury. Like you always did before.

You wonder when it came to this - when you stopped looking for your soulmate. This love, you told yourself, was enough, even if it wasn't perfect, even if you weren't fated. The way you care about him is deliberate, the way you're falling in love in spite of the unnerving fear of losing him is intentional and purposeful. And nothing in the world could replace this.

"I don't care for it." You said quickly and honestly, the sincerity in your voice so weighty that he could understand you meant this statement.

Taeyang's smile, of all things, wasn't something you quite anticipated, sensing that it was a gesture he just couldn't fight, he put the down instrument on the wet grass, padding closer to where you stood. It was a strange thing that bound you together, something indescribable, that led him to recognise that he needed to be in your proximity at all times.

And now he had a name for it.

It was earlier that day when he'd absentmindedly pricked himself while sharpening an arrow tip, the injury was apparent, a reflection. You blinked, once and twice. And then you smiled a big, wide smile.

"It's you." He said, mimicking your gesture. "It's always been you."

Shadows of his outstretched digits crawled along your face, reducing the splatter of light to mere speckles, he made a careful work of caressing your face, wiping away a thin layer of mist against the cool skin with the calloused pads of his thumbs. (And then he kisses you and it feels like something erupted inside the depth of his belly, a knot tightening and tightening and tightening, and this is something he's always wanted. To love someone, to love someone so much he thinks he could die for it, had fate put him to the test.)

...

#kwritersworldnet #kwordsmiths #sf9 x reader #taeyang x reader #taeyang imagines #taeyang angst #taeyang fluff #sf9 imagines #sf9 fluff #sf9 angst #kpop imagines #kpop angst #kpop fluff #kpop fanfiction

85 notes · View notes