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prompt-master · 3 years

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THIS BITCH FUCKING DYING XD XD X'D

This is a lighthearted comedy fic, but I’m going to give a warning for mention/talks of suicide and death.

Now this may be a shocking sentiment to share; but being in a killing game fucking sucked, even if you were Momota Kaito. As ludicrous as that statement appears, heroes had a tough time in tragedy too. Kaito found himself feeling disappointed more often than he would like at the sight of his companions distrusting each other. How were they supposed to work together and escape if people were “scared” that they would be “murdered”?! Kaito believed in trust to the bitter end and he would see that philosophy through. To point the finger at others and accuse them of murder is simply what the mastermind wanted him to do, and if Kaito was anything he was not a loser.

But that’s part of what made his sidekick so incredible! No hero was complete without his supporting role! Of course, Shuichi was much more than a supporting role. In many ways he was the protagonist of his own world (Kaito is still the hero of this story, make no mistake). Even though Shuichi relied on the motivation of others to see himself through, he was probably one of the most capable men he’d ever met. His intinution and detective skills were essential to each trial when his thoughts weren’t fogged up by mental recoil. And despite his reclusive demeanor, he was a good friend to have that everyone wanted the best for. Shuichi was Kaito’s sidekick and it showed! For his sidekick had to stand on his own as one of the best!

...Well, maybe sometimes Shuichi didn’t have a leg to stand on because he didn’t look so dependable laying face-down on the ground.

“Shuichi! Are you- what are you doing?”

Shuichi was down on the ground in front of his Ultimate Lab with his foot stuck propping the door open. He didn’t lift his head up when Kaito called out his name, instead opting for a string of gibberish and raising one hand off the ground.

“No, seriously. What are you doing?” Kaito propped the dizzy detective up against the wall, catching him as he nearly swayed back down to the floor in response. Kaito took note of his flushed face and unfocused demeanor. There wasn’t...booze in this killing game right? That would suck. A killing game and booze wouldn’t mix well. Although some may disagree and say a pint is just the pick me up after watching one of your friends be slaughtered.

“M-Momota-kun…” it seemed Shuichi was gathering his bearings again. He braced himself against Kaito by gripping his sleeves.

“Alright, c’mon Shuichi. Let’s get you to the others. I’m sure they can help us out somehow!”

“Ah but...first things first…” Shuichi looked up at Kaito with a determined resolve in his eyes typically reserved for class trials.

“If I die, it’s a suicide.”

Huh?

HUH?!

WHAT?!

“Shuichi?!” Kaito shook Shuichi by the shoulders until he looked ready to pass out and keel over for good, “Why would you do that?! You have so much to live for!”

And Shuichi had the damn nerve to look exasperated by the panic, “Ack- Momota-kun please calm down it was an accident!”

“How do you accidentally kill yourself?!”

“Well it happens all the time really but-”

“That’s not reassuring coming from you! Just-” Kaito took a deep breath to steady his frustrations, “why the hell are you dying?”

“It’s- haha, well uhm, it’s a bit of a funny story you see-” Shuichi stopped his ramblings at Kaito’s unimpressed glare, Shuichi sighed and slumped over with a sense of shame and embarrassment, “I was in my lab familiarizing myself with the various poisons in case anyone tried to use one, but ended up dropping a bottle of powder on the floor and inhaling quite a bit.”

“T-that sounds pretty serious…” Kaito mumbled. “How do you treat a toxic inhalant?...How do I help you..? Just say the word and I’ll be there, sidekick!”

Shuichi closed his eyes and rested against the door. After a moment he said “At this rate, people will assume you killed me since you were with me all this time. So, to prove that it was a suicide-”

“Shuichi I asked how to save you not how to solve your murder.”

Shuichi tilted his head with a fog of puzzlement in his eyes, “...but solving murders is what I do?”

“Well don’t do it right now! I’m trying to prevent your death!”

“Hm.” Shuichi seemed to have to rethink his evaluation, but the situation hadn’t changed. “This is a killing game, Momota-kun. I don’t think surviving or saving is on par with the course of action the mastermind planned out.”

“W-well if there’s a poison, there’s an antidote right?”

Shuichi shook his head, “No, there’s probably enough materials to make one, but... I’m not a chemist.”

“Let’s ask Iruma to make one then!”

“She’s not a chemist either.” Not to mention Shuichi didn’t trust any sort of edible concoction Miu put together. He wasn’t sure what she would create, but he did know it would make him want to die even faster.

“Ok then, let’s ask Harumaki!”

“Wh- Momota-kun, Harukawa-san kills people!”

“Yeah, so maybe she knows how to unkill people too! I’m pretty sure she can do basically anything.”

Shuichi, with his head now in his hands, decided that it would be easier to simply go along with Kaito’s antics. His body felt weak and gross and his head was splitting, which was a shame because in all honesty that powder had smelt nice. If only it didn’t leave his lab in need of a quarantine. It could’ve been a good candle scent. Or perhaps Shuichi was just veering into delirium. Dying will do that to you.

He was definitely veering into delirium because one moment he was staring down at his hands and the next he was being carried by Kaito. The worst part of it all was that it didn’t match his daydreams of being romantically carried bridal style by his crush. Instead he was a heavy sack of dead weight plopped against Kaito’s back trying to keep his nausea down as Kaito descended a set of stairs.

“Wh-what’re you doing?” Shuichi mumbled upon realizing that he couldn’t remember Kaito’s plan. If he had one.

“We’re going to get you help!” Shuichi thought it was a pretty bad idea. It would just make the trial even more confusing and he wouldn’t be able to clarify since corpses don’t make for good witnesses. Even if he wanted to voice that though, he ended up in a nasty coughing fit that left him gasping for air.

“Dammit!” Kaito hissed out, “If only Tojo was still here!”

That Shuichi agreed with. If Kirumi was here she would somehow manage to create a cure even though that was absolutely not in the job description of a maid. Her backstory concerned Shuichi quite a bit.

“There he is!” Kaito yelled out, picking up his pace from a light jog to a full run.

“We’re...w-w’re going to ask him for help...?” Shuichi mumbled, before letting out a loud groan, “no, that’s okay...j-just let me die then.”

“Oi Monokuma!” If it weren’t for the imminent danger that would result from it, Kaito would be throttling Monokuma until something broke. “You have to help Shuichi, dammit! Give him a cure or some shit!”

Monokuma tilted his head, looking up at Kaito with pseudo-innocence, “are you stupid or something?”

“Wh-” Kaito nearly lost his anger in confusion, only for it to come back tenfold, “you have to help him!”

“No I don’t, lol.” Monokuma shrugged, “I think the bastard dropping dead would be great! Honestly any of you mistakes would do, he’s not special or anything.”

“He’s our detective!”

“Yeah, you lot are screwed without him, huh?” Monokuma let out a cackle, curled in on his stomach like Shuichi dying was the highlight of his day. “Sounds so beary hopeless to be without a protag, huh! Man we’ve lost two protags in one show, that’s a new record! Someone write that down, I want a medal!”

“I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about…” Kaito shifted Shuichi higher up on his back, ignoring the mumbles in his ear of what evidence to use in the trial, “but don’t start planning yet! Shuichi isn’t dying on my watch!”

Monokuma nodded, “yeah, you are stupid.”

“Fine then I’m going to Harumaki! She was my first plan anyway since you’re so useless!”

“Useless?” Monokuma’s voice wobbled, his head tilted down like a child being told to apologize for wrong doing, “and after all I’ve done for you too...I don’t have to provide you lot with food and shelter, you know.”

“Ahh shut up! We don’t have time for your weird feelings!”

The world became another dizzying blur as Kaito ran off yet again. “Don’t worry Shuichi! I’m taking you to Harumaki! She’ll have everything figured out!”

---

“You inhaled a toxic powder from your lab?”

Shuichi nodded.

“And you’ve gotten no treatment this entire time?”

Shuichi nodded.

“How are you not dead already?”

Shuichi shrugged.

Maki sighed and pinched her nose, wondering how the hell these two idiots got themselves into such a mess, “Saihara, I always thought if you were going to die it would be from murder and not from some bullshit like this.”

Which was a fair assumption really. Being the detective among them, the group learned to rely on Shuichi’s deductions to solve the murders. Without him, there would be a lot of chaos that the killer could use to trick everyone. Wait. Why has no one tried to kill Shuichi again? Shuchi couldn’t tell if he was a lucky man or not, but considering he was currently dying on his crush’s back it’s safe to say he leaned towards unlucky.

Maki turned to Kaito, glaring at him in a way that said she wanted to help but the situation sucked to do anything, “what exactly do you want me to do about this?”

“Save him, of course!” “I’m not a doctor. I’m the opposite. I kill people.”

Shuichi wished desperately that he could say “I told you so”

“Look Harumaki, we can’t just let him die like this! We’re his friends so we have to do whatever we can to help him! Not just for us, but for Akamatsu too! She wanted him to live!”

Harukawa’s steel glare seemed to melt a little at that.

“So we need a plan!” Kaito said, “and the plan is to save Shuichi!”

“That’s not a plan, that’s a goal. And it’s a stupidly impossible goal too.”

“Nothing is impossible!”

Shuichi wondered if he could just close his eyes and die to avoid all the yelling he’s had to endure today.

Another voice joined the conversation with a loud cry of “what’s impossible!?” It was none other than Iruma Miu, confidently placing herself into the scene when no one asked her to. Kiibo was with her, following at a much slower pace with an expression that screamed second-hand embarrassment. With her hands on her hips and a smirk on her face, she ensured all parties had their eyes on her before speaking again.

“Because this hard-headed freak is right! Nothing is impossible with my beautiful plump brain around! What is it you’re looking for? A new way to pull off a fictional r18 move? I knew you three were depraved, but don’t worry Mama Miu has got it covered-”

“No, you idiot.” Maki cut her off without a drop of sympathy. Shuichi didn’t have any sympathy either though, so really it was just relatable. “Saihara is dying.”

“Eh? What?” Miu’s voice fell into a submissive whimper. She curled in on herself and fiddled her hands together. “That doesn’t sound good…”

“Yes dying is usually not good.”

Kiibo worriedly hovered near Kaito, trying to get a good look at Shuichi, “is he ok?”

“No. Because he is dying.”

Miu seemed to have panic in her eyes, “he can’t die! Not yet anyway! Who killed him huh?! Who’s trying to escape?!”

“Iruma!” Kaito ignored her questions, “you can save him, right?! He was poisoned, and you always say that you can do anything!”

“I-I mean yeah I can but… but I don’t know anything about biocompatibility... I honestly just put things in the body and hope it works…I would need more time...”

“Then what about you Kiibo?! Maybe you can...I don’t know- analyze the poison and come up with a cure!”

“My algorithm doesn’t do that...I could do a Google search if we were given WIFI access though...”

“Dammit does anyone have an idea to save Shuichi?!”

“Oh! Oh!” Miu raised her hand, “I’ve seen people induce vomiting in movies to stop poison! That’ll work, yeah?!”

Maki, realizing that this conversation was going to draw out far longer than to her liking, pulled out a chair and sat in it, “first of all: do not do that. Second of all it was an inhalant. I don’t think that will stop his lungs from shutting down any time soon.”

“I know!” Kiibo turned to Miu with a determined look, “Iruma-san! Repurpose my wiring so that my hands function as a defibrillator!”

“Did you not hear what I just said?” Maki asked.

“Well it might stop Saihara-kun from dying if his heart stopped!”

“There’s nothing we can do.” Maki stressed, “we just have to lay him down, monitor him,, and hope he lives”

“Harumaki that’s the same as giving up!”

“Hey hey!” No. God dammit. Sure, let’s keep complicating the dialogue. Shuichi was having a very bad day. Could this poison just finish him off already instead of leaving him on death’s doorstep? Fucking rude. Ouma Kokichi, hearing the glorious sounds of frantic arguing, skipped over to the group with a peachy look on his face.

“What’s wrong with you all? You’re acting like somebody died.” Kokichi did a dramatic gasp, covering his mouth with his hands, “did someone die?! Did someone finally kill Keeboy?!”

Kiibo stopped debating with Miu to give Kokichi an unimpressed look, “seriously?”

“Nishishi- yeah, I guess that would be too lucky.”

“Can you take something seriously for once in your life?” Maki glared, “because somebody will die if we can’t figure this out. Saihara inhaled a toxic powder and we aren’t sure how much time we have left to save him.”

“Ehh?” Kokichi’s face turned from confusion to worry. He’d clearly thought Maki was messing with him until he saw Shuichi’s half conscious body draped over Kaito looking very much like a victim of poison. Just as quickly as his expression changed it turned into an over exaggerated ploy they’d all seen a million times. His eyes filled with tears, his lip quivered, his nose started to sniffle. With a hiccup in his voice he began to whimper, “one of you guys is trying to kill my Saihara-chan?! I thought you all were preaching about friendship and trust and ending the killing game!”

Kokichi tilted his head back as he fell into a full on sob. A loud childish ear-breaking wail resounded as tears poured from his eyes with practiced ease. “You guys are so awful!” he yelled in between his sobs, “how could you do this?! Saihara-chan can’t die!”

“Would you shut the fuck up, flat ass!’ Miu yelled.

And just like that Kokichi’s sobs had turned off. A complete 180 from his previous demeanor. It was like he hadn’t cried at all. His eyes weren’t red and puffy, his nose was dry, and his body was relaxed and poised. He stared camly down at his fingernails, examining them as though this situation was nothing more than a slight inconvenience to his day. “I’m serious, you know. I would never joke or lie. Saihara-chan can’t die, this game wouldn’t be the same without him.”

Kaito nearly asked Kokichi what he meant. Did he care about Shuichi? Did he care about their survival? Was he finally coming around?

“Oi Monokuma!” Kokichi yelled. Monokuma bounced into the scene as though he was on Kokichi’s beck and call. “Hey did you know that Saihara-chan is dying? Like right now? And we’re all just watching that?”

Okay. Maybe he wasn’t starting his redemption arc then. Maybe he’s still the same piece of shit Kokichi.

“Ouma, what are-”

“Of course I know! It’s pretty funny, huh Ouma-kun?”

Kokichi laughed along with Monokuma, as though they were cut from the same tree. But then suddenly he was back to that semi-disappointed demeanor. “Yeah. Saihara-chan is dying. And doesn’t that really suck? This game is going to sooo be terrible without him. In his trial I bet we’re all going to die because these morons can’t think without him. You know that too, don’t you, Monokuma? WIthout Saihara-chan your show is going to be cut off in this most annoying and unentertaining way. Ahhh I can’t believe this is how the game ends. After all that build up too. I don’t think I even want to be a part of this any more honestly. I’d much rather pig breath die.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

Monokuma seemed taken aback by Kokichi’s analysis. He pondered it for a moment, nervously looking around and imagining all the lovely executions that would go to waste if Shuichi died right now. With a sigh he pulled out a very suspicious bottle from-...actually where did he pull that bottle from? Not important. What was important was that there was finally a cure in front of them, the one they’d been asking for all this time.

“Give him this and the brat should be good as new!” and with that Monokuma popped away.

Kokichi, holding the vial, smiled brightly at the others, “Here you go! Don’t let Saihara-chan die again okay! I don’t care if any of you others do but Saihara-chan is very special m’kay?”

…

...

“So you mean…I really could have asked Monokuma for a cure?! The bastard was just lying to me!?”

#danganronpa #drv3 #ndrv3 #drv3 spoilers #ndrv3 spoilers #shuichi saihara #kaito momota #fanfic #fan fic

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rpd-rookie · 4 years

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What Does The ‘S’ Stand For ? - Leon S. Kennedy x Reader

Summary: When you learn that Leon got the job you desperately wanted you decide to pay him a visit to congratulate him and finally put an end to the competition between the two of you in favour of some cooperation. Turns out, cooperation sometimes involve taking your clothes off.

Author’s Note: Some one-shot involving (pre) RE2 Remake Leon, a very sassy reader and some smut. I haven't written that genre in a while though. Hope I'm not too rusty. And by the way, if you notice some terrible grammatical mistakes please let me know (English is not my mother tongue). Anyway, I wish you'll like this story and as usual don't forget to like/reblog and tell me what you think about it.

Warning: SMUT and Language. You can also expect some humour and some fluff.

Also available on AO3

Franklin D. Roosevelt once said, “Competition has been shown to be useful up to a certain point and no further, but cooperation, which is the thing we must strive for today, begins where competition leaves off.” Wise words. But clearly Roosevelt never had to compete with Kennedy, and by Kennedy you didn’t mean John F. Kennedy but another Kennedy, one with less charisma yet better hair (hell, got to render unto Caesar what’s Caesar’s), Leon S. Kennedy - ‘S’ probably standing for “sucker” or “saint” in your opinion. After all, the guy was such a goody two-shoes. Teacher’s favourite. Neat and tidy top student. Perfect arbiter of right and wrong. And certainly, the only guy in the academy who didn’t stick his cock in Barbara Johnson’s pussy. Weird since she also had a president’s name just like him. Could have been the perfect opportunity for a horizontal presidential debate.

If it wasn’t clear already, you didn’t like Kennedy very much. But it was not for the reasons mentioned above. No, you could tolerate the fact that he was the embodiment of virtue and morals. What you could not tolerate though, was that he was better than you at everything. At fundamentals, at crime prevention and analysis, at counterintelligence, at physical agility, at shooting, at… well, you get the point. It infuriated you. He infuriated you. You never had the chance to beat him. Never. He was always top of your class and you were always close second. So of course, when you received the letter from the Raccoon City Police Department informing you that your application had been rejected and that the position had been given to someone else, you did the math. Only Kennedy could have taken that job away from you. After all, you had heard him talking about Raccoon City at lunch break quite a few times in the past weeks and each time he had sounded so excited – well, as excited as cannibalistic murders can make you of course. Truth is, you had also shown interest in this city the moment its terrible crimes hit the first page of the newspapers alongside the Clinton-Lewinsky scandal, collecting every tiny article about it and telling your classmates what a thrilling experience it would be to work on that case. You had even imagined yourself wearing the blue uniform, RPD largely written on your chest, making a report about the rotting body of a camper found in the Arklay mountains.

You sighed, disappointment hitting you hard again. And with a hesitant hand, you knocked at the door in front of you somewhat ready to let go of the competition in favour of some cooperation. You barely waited a couple of seconds before Kennedy opened the door, a cordless telephone against his ear. He appeared genuinely surprised to see you there. “Call you back later, mom.” He said before hanging up the phone, still staring at you with astonished eyes. “Y/N.”

“Telling your mommy about the amazing job you just got?” Your question had sounded more barbed and curter than indented. Bitterness probably. Leon sighed. He knew exactly what you meant. “Look, if it is about Raccoon City…” “Of course it is about Raccoon City. Why do you think I’m here? To discuss fashion?” You entered his bedsit without asking and looked around you. So well organized and tidy, so military. Pff. Where were the greasy pizza boxes, the nasty underwear on the floor and the bin filled with used tissues all the other guys usually had?

You turned around to face him with a stone cold expression. “I’m guessing you knew I wanted that post.” “Yeah but…” You cut him off. You couldn’t care less about the thing he wanted to say. “I don’t blame you. Had I been in your place I would have apply for it too. Damn, I even applied without being in your place, so … The point is, I wanted to congratulate you – even if it hurts me to do so – and tell you that I’m glad this competition between the two of us is finally coming to end.” Leon briefly chuckled and kept an amused smile on his face. This wasn’t the kind of words he had expected from you. “Well, thanks I guess.” “You’re welcome” You dramatically put a hand over your heart “Gosh, it kills me to be so polite to you, Kennedy.” He retained a laugh and you approached him to slam a heavy blue binder against his - surprisingly strong - chest. Wow, muscles! “Take this.” You reluctantly said with a strangled voice as if you were a mother giving up her baby . “Take care of it. It’s the work of a lifetime … sort of.”

Leon furrowed his brows and opened the folder. Inside, there were all the articles you had collected about Raccoon City since the reveal of the incidents to the public eye plus some notes you had written during you personal late-night investigations. Leon skimmed through them. They were incredibly detailed and you could see how impressed he was. Damn, you wished you had your camera to immortalise this moment. “It won’t be of any use to me now. And it took me too much time to just throw it away so have it. Take it as parting gift.” “Wow, Y/N. I don’t know what to say.” He looked beyond happy. It made you smile. What the hell, Y/N? “Thank you, maybe?” You swallowed you smile back before he could notice, choosing to replace what could have been something sweet and nice by sarcasm. “Yes, sure.” He grinned. “Thank you.” You nodded. “I don’t want you to have a heart attack so you’re not obliged to say ‘you’re welcome’.” He teased you and as much as you wanted to find the joke lame, you surprisingly found it rather funny. “Good. Cause that would have been too much for my heart to take in a single day.” He smiled again and this time you couldn’t help but gaze. You were forced to acknowledge he was very cute, handsome even, certainly the kind of guy you would have willingly flirt with if it hadn’t been for the relentless competition between the two of you. “You know it’s nice to see you smile.” Your eyes slightly widened. You had been smiling the whole time? No! “That wasn’t a smile. That was a sneer.” You quickly replied, trying to prevent him from spotting the sudden panic in your eyes. “Sure.” But yeah, that was definitely a smile and right now your cheeks were burning.

You cleared your throat and looked back upon his face, hoping yours had found back its usual seriousness and scorn. “Well, gotta go. Good riddance, Kennedy. Good luck and try not to screw up.” You proceeded to the door, glad this conversation was over, but Leon was not ready to let you leave just yet. “You know, for me, there was never a competition between us.” You stopped and turned around. “What?” You frowned. “Of course, there was a competition.” He shook his head. “Not for me.” “Are you telling me that I have deprived myself of sleeping, fallen into coffee addiction and lost my entire social life for two years in the hope of finally beating you at a freaking test while you …” You could tell he was clearly trying not to laugh but his mocking grin was enough to make you blow a fuse. Well, a funny fuse … a funny desperate fuse “No! No!” You repeated, all irritated. “You’re kidding me!” He shrugged, playing all innocent. “Don’t fucking tell me you let me tilt at windmills!” He did. Bastard. Leon - Son of a bitch - Kennedy! That’s what the S stands for. You cursed in your head. “I tried to tell you …” He started to explain to defend himself. “When?” You harrumphed, almost shouting at him. “Well, many times but …” “Clearly not enough times.” Your sarcasm was back. “… each time you sent me packing” “I don’t do that.” You felt offended. “I can’t barely make a full sentence with you!” You opened your mouth to retort but he stopped you by pointing a finger that undeniably meant ‘Careful what you’re going to say’. So you stood there, perfectly still, mouth opened, realising that he was probably right. “You’re allowed to breath, you know.” He said as a response to your reaction but you didn’t know what to say anymore. Did you really spend all your time at the academy trying to win a non-existent competition? “Fuck.” You cursed, definitely dumbfounded.

Leon observed you, perplexed and wondering if you were going to stay rooted to the spot for the rest of the day. “Y/N” He waved in front of your face to pull you out from your thoughts but you barely noticed. “All that repressed sexual tension for nothing?” You asked yourself. Wait! Did you just say that out loud? Panic-stricken, you looked up at Leon and judging by the way he was staring at you – all ‘what the hell did she just say?’ – yep you did. “You didn’t hear what I’ve just said.” You waved your hand past his face, like a Jedi would do in a Star Wars movie, knowing perfectly it wouldn’t work but hoping that ridicule would make the situation less awkward and give you a chance to run away from his room. It was a failure. “Yes, I did.”

And just like that, Leon Saint Sucker Son of a Bitch – whatever the S stood for - Kennedy caught your face in his hands and kissed you with a passion that made you gasp against him. You tried to resist for a second but then you decided to let go. After all, you had nothing to lose. The study years could be considered over and soon Leon would be in Raccoon City analysing amazing crimes while you would be God-knows-where writing parking tickets. You would never see each other again. “Tell that to anyone, Kennedy and I’ll kick your gorgeous butt from here to Raccoon City.” You threatened, close to his mouth. “I won’t. Scout’s honour.” Leon Scout Kennedy? You shook your head (Stop being silly, Y/N!) before pushing Leon on the convertible sofa behind him.

You straddled him without waiting, definitely willing to let your sudden eagerness and your repressed desire for him get the better of you. You met his lips in a new heated kiss, your body pressed against his, craving for lustful friction. And by the way Leon was holding you tight you could tell you weren’t the only one. His tongue asked permission to enter your mouth and you happily granted it. Who would have thought that Leon Saint Kennedy was such a skilled kisser? Couldn’t he suck for once? Oh yeah, he could suck at your neck apparently. Damn. A moan escaped your throat and you felt Leon smirk against your skin. “You like that?” He asked, proud of himself. You instinctively arched your neck asking for more, your hands weaving into his soft hair. “It’s not that bad.” You acknowledged and he suddenly bit you in the nape of your neck. “What the fuck?” You shouted, surprised. Leon laughed and you caught his face to kiss him and bite his lips in retaliation. But judging by the kinky smile on his angelic face, he didn’t seem to mind. “You’re incorrigible.” You humoured. “Did I hurt you? I’m sorry.” He pecked your lips again and again and slowly began leaving a trail of light kissed down to your neck. “You’d better be. Aren’t you tired of making my life a misery?” You pretended to sulk as he kept on pressing his soft lips on your burning skin. You grabbed his chin, putting you thumb in his dimple and stared at him. How ridiculously hot he was right now with that arousal tinting his beautiful blue eyes and this dishevelled hair.

“What do you have in mind, Y/N?” Rhetorical question. He knew exactly what you had in mind. Hell, it was basically the same thing he had in his. “Stop playing coy and take your clothes off.” You whispered close to his face, your hot breath against his mouth, before pulling his bottom lip between your teeth “What about your silly competition?” He murmured back, his hands slowly falling along your sides. “I’m all in for cooperation right now. So are you gonna give me a hand …” You started unbuckling his belt. “…or do I need to do everything by myself?” His eyes fixed upon yours mischievous ones, gazing at you with awe. You could tell he was completely at your mercy. “I’ll give you more than a hand.” You smirked and allowed your hands to unbutton his jeans. “I thought so.” He lifted his rear and you pulled down his jeans along with his boxers, biting your lips at the view of his beautiful cock. Jesus Christ Kennedy, Mother Nature certainly had been kind to you.

You stood up to undress yourself as well, dropping all your clothes to the floor, your eyes watching at Leon’s hastening hands fighting desperately with the buttons of his shirt. Clearly, you weren’t the only one that was impatient in this room, or horny. You let him finish before taking your place back on his laps. His hard sex against your body, you slightly shivered, impatience eating you from within. “You’re gorgeous.” He said as he tucked few strands of your hair behind your ear. You couldn’t help but blush, not used to such compliments, and, as a consequence, in order to erase all sense of discomfort in you (if you could call it like that), you decided to focus your attention on his cock. You brushed his length with your fingertips, admiring it with envy and lust, excited to do more with it. It made Leon hiss and you looked up at him. His eyes were pleading you. Without looking away from the blueness of his look, you caught his penis in your hand and started pumping it gently. Leon’s eyelids flickered; his head hit the back of the sofa and his mouth opened slightly. He seemed thankful, relieved even. You continued your gesture, watching him melting underneath you, listening to his now ragged breath with delight. God, that was sexy. He was sexy. Leon Sexy Kennedy. Suited him.

You bit your lips and decided to venture in between his legs, kneeling onto the floor. “What are you …” Leon complained when he suddenly stopped feeling you on top of him. You cut him short by guiding his cock to your mouth to softly kiss the pre cum-covered tip “Holy...” The rest of the sentence got stuck in his throat and turned into a growl as you eagerly sucked the head of his cock like a Popsicle. You smiled and licked his length, staring at how ecstatic he looked from this angle. “You like that?” You winked as you quoted him and he laughed. “Women.” You engulfed his cock deep in your mouth and started bobbing your head. A new sigh of pleasure escaped his mouth and you felt him instantly relax on the couch. “God, you’re amazing.” You liked the compliment and to show your appreciation you decided to massage his balls as you kept on sucking him. You received a lustful grunt in response and soon Leon’s hand grabbed your hair to give you a quicker pace, almost making you gag on him. “Oh, sorry.“ What a gentleman! “That’s okay.” You smiled in a very naughty way. “I like it.” He chortled and you took back his dick in your mouth, welcoming it deeper to show him you didn’t mind some roughness. “You know, if you keep doing this I’m soon going to cum in your mouth.” You stopped, licked your lips and crawled back onto his lap. “That would be a shame.” You joked sarcastically, hands back in his hair “Got a condom?”

The way you pronounced the words, all smiley and adorable, made him laugh again. He pushed you softly to open the drawer of his nightstand and find your one-way ticket for cloud nine. “There!” He announced excited as he showed you the contraceptive. “But first …” He suddenly grabbed your ankles to pull you towards him, making you slightly yelp in the process. “There’s something I got to do” He lay down on the couch, spread your legs and immediately nestled his head right in between your thighs, making you instantly shiver. So, that’s what he got to do. You sighed when you felt his breath against you swollen clit but it was only when his tongue met your pink flesh that you realised how aroused you truly were. You were so wet. “Fuck, am I the one to blame for such a mess?” He joked but his mouth and tongue felt so good in between your thighs that you could only just moan and arch your back, begging for proper sucking and licking. He didn’t make you wait and gave you what you wanted as he started fondling your clit with his tongue. “Leon” That was the first time you where saying his first name and you got to admit, you liked the sound of it. “Yes, sweetheart?” “Keep going, please.” You begged and he sucked on your bud, gazing at you melting under his touch as he did. You grasped his hair when he finally let a finger enter your core. Fuck, he was good. You moved your hips instinctively against him and he added a new finger. It sank into you as easily as the first one and you cried out, finding it impossible to be discreet anymore. “Fuck, Leon. I want you. I want you now.” You begged. “Wait a second.” He asked, definitely loving your taste too much for him to stop just now. He pumped his fingers in your pussy, licking your juices greedily and you clenched your thighs around his head, feeling the imminence of your orgasm slowly yet surely approaching. “Now, Leon. Now! Please”

Leon obeyed this time and he quickly sat up and grabbed the condom he had left on the pillow next to him. He put the red wrapper between his teeth and tore it open. Then he rolled the condom down his length with both his hands. You watched him all the time, your fingers massaging your clit, finding him terribly arousing at this very moment.

Once ready, Leon bent over you to kiss you again and he tapped his hard cock on your hand to ask access to your humid entrance. You didn’t object of course and even spread your legs wider. Soon enough, you felt him slide in between your wet lips and then finally push slowly yet exquisitely inside of you. You closed your eyes as he did and drew a sharp breath once you felt him fully inside. You didn’t need time to adjust to him as if your body was meant for him. Guess Leon felt it too as he immediately took a quick pace and began pounding you. You let your hands wander on his smooth chest from his strong pectorals down to his divine abs and the chiselled V below his navel, finding him simply gorgeous. Then you grasped his hips, and nudge his rear with your ankles, pressing his pelvis closer to you to take him deeper, and started moaning his name again. His hands caught your bouncing breasts to play with your nipples, and you rapidly felt the strong wave of pleasure back in your core, ready to drown you. “Fuck, Leon!” His mouth met one of your teats and sucked on it with ardour. That was too much to handle. “I think I’m gonna cum.” You cried out. “Yeah?” You nodded, letting a tear of pleasure escape your eyes. “Cum for me then.” He didn’t have to say it twice and few seconds later, you dug your nails in his hipbones and screamed loudly as you clenched around his cock, finally coming undone under his thrusts.

Stunned, breathless and at the same time a bit embarrassed that you had already reached your orgasm, you let Leon kiss you soft lips with a smile on his face. “See, you reached the finishing line before me.” He humoured. “Fuck off.” You whispered, amused yet completely exhausted. He chuckled and pressed his lips against yours one more time before gently pushing you flat on your stomach. “I’m not done with you yet.” He whispered in your ear.

You moaned loudly when he thrust back into your wet core, pinning you down on the mattress that you ultimately grabbed tightly in order to stay in place. He started pounding you again, holding you by the hips, taking delight in watching your sweet butt bouncing against him as he was burying himself deeper than he had ever done before. “Jesus, Y/N!” He growled before spanking you. You gasped, astonished but in a good way. You had never thought he was that kind of guy. “Really, Kennedy? Spanking? That’s what the ‘S’ in your name stands for?” He laughed, still fucking you from behind. “I thought you would like it.” “Oh but I do. I just never thought it was your thing.” “You should stop taking me for a saint, Y/N.” He wiped the sweat from his forehead, brushing the strand of hair covering his right eye away and focused again on his movements. “It’s not my fault. It’s your baby face.” You confessed in between two moans. He brutally stopped and you wondered for a second if what you had just said had actually vexed him. “My baby face? Really?” He repeated in your ear with a smirk as he grabbed you by the hair. “Who’s been crying out my name the whole time?” Holy shit. You instinctively braced yourself and when he resumed his hammering you knew it was a smart decision. Leon started growling even more loudly as he slowed yet deepened his movements inside of you, his hand in your hair, using your body as leverage. He was almost aggressive but you moaned nevertheless, out of breath, feeling a new orgasm building inside of you. Really? You clenched around him, trying to hold your orgasm a bit longer, unwilling to give him the satisfaction to cum around him again.

When Leon’s hard pounding started to get sloppy you realised he was really close to his release. “Jesus, I’m almost there.” He admitted. You don’t know how you found the strength to push him on his back but you did. Sitting on top of him, you removed the condom, threw it carelessly onto the floor and started to jerk him off. “I want you to cum on me.” You confessed. A guttural moan vibrated in his throat and he let himself sprawl on the mattress, leaving you in complete charge of his pleasure. You grinded against his cock as your hand kept on firmly going up and down his length. It drove Leon crazy and you soon felt him throbbing in your grip. His breath became even more ragged and jerky and small spasms took control of his body. You angled his cock towards you and soon, a hot load of thick cum spurted on your stomach and breasts as Leon cursed and grunted between his gritted teeth. “Fuck, Y/N!”

You smiled and let go of his member, proud and satisfied of your work, looking at poor panting Leon who had a beautiful yet exhausted smile on his face. “You killed me, woman.” He joked and you briefly laughed. Then, you wiped his cum off your body with your fingers and brought them to your mouth, sucking them eagerly and swallowing the white seed looking right in Leon’s eyes. You had the feeling he would find it very hot. “Jesus Christ” Bull’s eye!

He circled you with his strong arms and pulled you against his chest. His heart was beating wildly and you allowed yourself to huddle a bit more against him to enjoy the melody. Post-coital cuddling session? Not sure that was a good idea but you decided to go for it and so did Leon as he chose to burry his nose in your hair and kiss the top of your head.

“Scott” He whispered sleepily. You looked up, wondering what he meant. “That’s what the ‘S’ stands for. Leon Scott Kennedy.”

Scott? You repeated in your head with a soft smile. Oh well, that didn’t sound so bad even though, right now, you preferred Leon ‘Stay’ Kennedy.

#leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon scott kennedy #re2 remake leon #re2 remake #resident evil #fanfic #one shot

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thirstyforcharacters · 3 years

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1. Winter Storm Warning

Part 1 of 4 of the Winter Storm Warning Series

Summary: A sect of the First Order is attempting to clear out the former Rebel base on Hoth and turn it into a First Order safe haven. When Finn discovers this, Leia sends out two of her best pilots to care of them. The only problem? They absolutely hate each other.

Notes: Hello! The snowstorm that hit my area last week inspired me to write a snowy, tension filled fic! Though this isn't explicit yet, there will most likely be smut in the last chapter, so stay tuned for that haha. This is a 4 chapter story (you can find chapters 2, 3, and 4 here), so I hope you end up enjoying it! (use of she/her pronouns in future chapters, no y/n)

Warnings: canon-typical violence, smut in future chapters (18+ only!), light angst for now (mostly petty arguing), but will get angstier in the future

WC: (almost) 2.3k

“Admiral, I need you to do this.”

“With all due respect, General Organa, I can’t. You know how much I despise him. It’s not going to go well.”

“You two are the best pilots in the Resistance. There’s no way you’ll reach Hoth in time to catch them without your skill. I know you don’t get along, but I need you to try, just this once. Then, you can go back to hating each other in peace,” the general pleaded.

You knew that eventually, you would say yes. The mission to Hoth was vital; a small subsection of enemy forces were attempting to clean out the old Rebel base on the planet and turn it into a hidden First Order haven. The Resistance was incredibly lucky that Finn had stumbled across that intel, or perhaps lucky that someone had betrayed the First Order to get you that information. Either way, you knew you had to do something about it. You just didn’t particularly want to do it with Poe.

See, from the moment you two had met in flight school, you were bitter rivals. At some point in your careers, one of you just barely out flew the other. And in the wake of your flying rivalry came a seething hatred that translated to real life. Since joining the Resistance, you had taken on a higher title than him because you were better at administration, which left you grounded more often. Unfortunately, that meant that Poe had taken the title of best pilot, despite the fact that you were just as good. At least you were an Admiral and he was a Commander. You could still hold that over his head.

But you knew that Leia was right, so you said, “Fine. He just better not do anything stupid.”

The general smiled gently and placed a hand on your shoulder, “If he does anything too stupid, I’ll set him straight when he gets back.”

“I appreciate that, General. Oh, speak of the devil.”

Poe strode in then, with Finn and Rey on either side. They were both laughing at something he said; knowing him, it was probably dumb as hell. Poe waved at General Organa and didn’t even glance at you, making you roll your eyes.

“Good morning, General,” he greeted her cheerily.

“Good morning, Commander,” she replied warmly.

Finn and Rey looked at you sympathetically and both waved hello. At least his friends were nice. You didn’t understand how two kind and wonderful people would hang out with his sorry ass. The two made their way to Lieutenant Connix, who had a mission of their own for them. Poe finished crossing the room to the two of you and only then did he look at you. He still didn’t speak, though, making you roll your eyes again. He glared at you, but still said nothing.

“Alright, you two, I know that historically, pairing you together doesn’t work out well. But I need your combined piloting prowess and fighting skill in order to make this work,” the general began.

“What for? I’m the best pilot here,” Poe interrupted, making your blood boil.

“You’re just scared that I’ll out-fly you and take your precious title. Best Pilot in the Resistance, my ass,” you growled back.

Poe’s brow furrowed in anger and he opened his mouth to retort when Leia snapped, “That’s enough out of you. Poe, be respectful. You and I both know that the admiral is one of the best pilots around. And you, Admiral, need to control your temper as well. The Resistance is relying on you, and I can’t have you two failing this mission because you’re bickering like an old married couple. Now, are you ready to act like mature adults and do this mission?”

You both nodded sheepishly.

“Good. You’ll be taking the Falcon since you’ll be flying a considerable distance. It will also be a bit better suited for the harsh weather of Hoth than your X-Wings. I know your original mission was just to take out the First Order forces, but we also want you both to un-repair anything that they might have already fixed. That way, no one can use it. I wish we could use it, but the First Order would definitely find us there if we take out some of their guys.”

“We’ll play nice, General, don’t worry,” you replied with what you hoped was a reassuring smile.

When trudging to the cockpit of the Falcon an hour later, you were already eating those words. Poe spent the entire time you were loading the ship complaining about how you were stacking your supplies instead of helping you. You wanted to tear his hair out of his skull, but you restrained yourself because you were still in the General’s presence. As soon as you were out of there, you knew you were going to rip him a new one. You threw yourself into the pilot’s seat and Poe entered into the cockpit behind you. You could practically sense the frown spreading across his face.

“Shouldn’t the real pilot be the one flying?”

“Shouldn’t the ‘real pilot’ have been helping to load the ship instead of bitching about it the whole time?”

“Get out of that seat. It’s mine.”

“No. You know I’m just as good, if not better than you. I’m flying this thing.”

You didn’t leave him any room to argue as you started up the ship. Flipping the levers and pressing the buttons may seem sort of random to any passersby, but you knew exactly what you were doing. Soon, the ship was roaring to life.

He groaned and flopped into the co-pilot’s chair, “Fine, but I’m flying on the way home.”

“Fine. Have fun trying to takeoff in a blizzard.”

“Have fun trying to land in it,” Poe retorted.

“I think I can manage. Now, do us both a favor and shut the hell up before I strangle you,” you said through gritted teeth.

“Not if I do it to you first.”

You rolled your eyes hard as you pulled the Falcon out of the hangar and flew into the vast expanse of space. This was going to be a long mission.

“I’m bored.”

“Good for you.”

He was like a child. Petulant. Whiny. Doesn’t know when to shut up. You two had been in hyperspace for a while now, and you had half a mind to turn this rattler around. The only reason you didn’t was because you didn’t want to face the wrath of Leia. But somehow, right now, that sounded preferable than being stuck in a flying death trap with this idiot.

“Let me fly.”

“No. You get the way home, remember?”

“But I’m better than you.”

Oh yeah, and there was him trying to convince you to let him fly. More like annoy you into jumping out of the ship.

“Do you want me to throw you out of this ship, Dameron? Because I’ll do so with pleasure.”

“And cost the general her favorite pilot? I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

You scoffed, “You really care about favorites? This isn’t about who likes who more it’s about saving the fucking galaxy. Come on, Dameron, I thought you’d at least be less childish than that, though I guess I’ve learned not to expect much from you.”

“And you’re not being childish by pettily arguing with me? Please, you’re not one to talk about maturity,” he snapped back.

“Fuck off. I don’t need to hear another word out of you until we land. We have to form some sort of plan.”

“Fine by me. I don’t particularly want to hear you, either,” he muttered in response.

The rest of the journey through hyperspace was made in tense silence.

It was only broken when you said, “Exiting hyperspace now.”

The two of you exited hyperspace and approached the snow covered planet. All seemed quiet so far, but you knew that it probably wouldn’t stay this way. You also knew that Leia had sent the two of you because almost no one else would be able to fly, land, or takeoff in Hoth’s harsh weather conditions. Now was the time to be sure that her faith in you wasn’t unfounded.

You entered the planet’s atmosphere not too far from where the former Rebel base was located, but still far away enough that hopefully you could land undetected by First Order forces. The winter storm whipping through the air made it extremely difficult to see, but you’d be damned if Poe thought you were having trouble. So, you kept a neutral expression, despite the fact that you were panicking slightly about the lack of vision. You cautiously navigated through the poor conditions until you found a fairly clear area to land. Without too much trouble (for the conditions you were in), you lowered the landing gear and found your footing on the pure white snow.

You turned to Poe to make a snarky comment about the smooth landing, but he had already left the cockpit. You scowled. Any other person who had been your co-pilot would have complemented you on a job well done, but of course Dameron doesn’t offer a word. What a nerf herder.

You swiftly exited the cockpit as well, and Poe was already putting on his winter gear. The puffy jacket, thick pants, gloves, and goggles were good for keeping you warm in the snow, but not exactly ideal for fighting. Unfortunately, if you didn’t want to freeze, you’d just have to make do. You began to do the same as him, and you got dressed in silence. You almost preferred the arguing between the two of you over the tense silence. It felt more stifling.

As soon as you had finishing changing and strapped on all of your weapons, Poe left the ship. You rolled your eyes. Guess you were coming up with a plan on the way there. You charged out of the ship after him right into the harsh snowstorm. Wind whipped at your bodies, the chill threatening to soak right through your thick clothing. You could barely make out the other pilot’s figure just a few feet ahead of you.

“Hey!” you shouted, “shouldn’t we be coming up with some sort of plan?”

Either he couldn’t hear you over the wind (which was entirely plausible) or he was ignoring you (which would be much more in character). If that was the case, he was being absolutely ridiculous! You needed to have some sort of attack plan in order to be able to take this base back. You sprinted through the heavy snow to catch up to him.

“Did you hear me? We need to have a plan of attack,” you yelled.

He shook his head, “My plan is to attack.”

“But how? There’s gonna be way more of them than us. We need to figure something out,” you exclaimed.

“We’ll be fine, Admiral. They don’t know we’re coming. No matter what we do, we’ll take them by surprise. Now be quiet. We’re almost there.”

You were absolutely seething. How dare he be so reckless? And he ran ahead of you, so you couldn’t even tell him how much of a dumbass he was! You knew this wasn’t gonna end well. Even if it was true that this was a surprise attack, you at least needed some type of strategy. Everyone should know that, especially the commander in a resistance that exists to save the galaxy! And he practically dismissed your opinion as bullshit! You knew you were right; going in without a plan was definitely going to be your demise. Maybe he wasn’t as great as he thought he was.

At any rate, even if you were going in blind, you knew you needed to calm down a bit so you could concentrate on the upcoming fight. You took steady, deep breaths in and out, like you always did when you were nervous. It may seem simple to most, but it really helped you center yourself.

When you finally caught up to Poe again, you were almost at the base. You both hid behind a snowdrift, and you could see a couple Stromtroopers straggling around the outside of the base.

“See, there’s only like 5 of them. We can just shoot them and be on our way,” Poe said with a smirk.

“It’s never that easy,” you grumbled under your breath.

Apparently, Poe thought it was, because he popped up from behind the snowbank and got a direct headshot on one of the troopers before ducking back down.

“Hey, who the hell was that?” one of the troopers questioned.

“Grab your weapons! We’re under attack!” another shouted.

You sighed and popped up from behind it as well, taking out two more of the guards. When you settled back down, Poe was gone.

“Oh, fuck me,” you muttered, glancing around for the reckless commander.

You saw him behind one of the supply boxes. He ran out from behind it and shot the remaining two guards who were standing in front of the entrance to the base.

He gestured to you, “See, easy.”

No sooner had the words left his mouth than the door opened and 5 more troopers came rushing out, tackling Poe to the ground. You jumped out from behind the snowbank and blasted as many of the troopers as you could, but more kept spilling out from the door until there were more than what you could keep up with. You knew it. You knew this would go poorly. Soon enough, you were surrounded.

“Welcome to Hoth, Rebel scum,” one of the troopers spat.

That was the last thing you saw before the world went black.

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pastelsandpining · 3 years

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Santa Baby (Christmas List)

The second prompt in 12 Days of Christmas by @zelink-prompts

Prompt List

**Note: For the stories actually involving Christmas, I and a few other authors changed the holiday to Hylia’s Day (credit to @fatefulfaerie for this) so that it’s more relevant to Hyrule

Cover Art: @neezlebums be sure to show some love to the original here!

Words: 2264

Summary: For their first Hylia’s Day together after everything that happened, Link just wanted to gift Zelda something special.

**If I don’t have explicit warnings, read with caution. It simply means there’s nothing I could think of that could be potentially triggering, but I could’ve just missed something. In that case, please let me know and I’ll be more than happy to put a warning!**

BotW, post-calamity with angry child Eggbert because I said so

Zelink-mas 2020 l Masterlist

Relearning everything about his past and about Hyrule was no easy feat. A world that was so familiar yet so foreign still left him unsettled at times, because he was a young adult trying to understand the things that nearly everyone else grew up with. It was fascinating to learn about traditions and holidays and how they came to be, and he did genuinely want to know everything he once knew and more.

It was how he’d ended up awake until the break of dawn, listening to Zelda tell stories of Hyrule’s past. She was in her element when she got to research or explore or teach. Watching her was something he felt incredibly lucky to do, much less sit so close to her on the bed while they poured over books. He wanted to be as prepared as possible.

He’d heard of Hylia’s Day before, but it would be his first time experiencing it (that he could remember). Zelda explained it as a celebration of love and giving, of friendship and of victory. She told him of the festivals they used to hold, and the balls they’d been forced to attend, and of the parties they used to have. She told him of the traditions of gift giving and of family gathering.

And when they finally settled down to sleep, Link asked her what she wanted for Hylia’s Day. She replied just as she always did—that she already had all she could ever want.

It didn’t stop him from trying, though. He brought it up at the most nonchalant of times, during breakfast or trips across the kingdom. He would listen intently every time she spoke, more so than usual, and tried to pick up on any instance of an “I want”. Only once did she give a direct answer, saying she wanted a Silent Princess.

Link was not satisfied with that. It wasn’t special enough, so he took it upon himself to fill Zelda’s nonexistent Hylia’s Day List.

He didn’t expect to feel as nervous as he did when the day actually came around.

“How does this look?” came the voice of Zelda from behind him. Link paused the stirring of his soup to turn around and answer her question. She’d been adjusting the decorations all morning, no matter how many times he’d promised her they looked fine.

“It looks perfect,” he replied. “Just like everything else.”

“Well, good, because I want this to be perfect,” she said, making her way to his side. “It’s the first Hylia’s Day we’ve had since—the first I’ve had outside of a castle. Getting to decorate and set everything up however you want is incredibly stressful. I want our friends to be comfortable and happy.”

“You worry too much,” stated Link in return, bumping her with his shoulder.

“I happen to worry a perfectly healthy amount, for your information.”

He chuckled and turned back to his task at hand: finishing up their dishes for the celebration. The traditions called for a family gathering, and their family was large in both number and size. A little extra wouldn’t hurt, even if their friends were all bringing their own dishes.

“You look beautiful, by the way,” he continued. Zelda’s cheeks flushed, even after a hundred years, and it made him want to smile. He loved when she wore things that were too big for her, including the white sweater that she had to keep pulling the sleeves up on because they were too long. The golden linings made it look fancier than it really was, but she called it comfortable on more than one occasion and it was soft to the touch, so it was one of his favorites too.

“Thank you,” she replied, hugging his arm. “I dressed myself and everything.”

“Wow, impressive,” he stated, pulling his arm free so that he could take the bread out of the oven. He didn’t miss the roll of her eyes before she turned back to the tree tucked into the corner.

“I can’t help thinking something’s missing,” she said. Link placed the pan on a rack before turning to face her again, reaching for one of her hands.

“It’s perfect,” he repeated, spinning her to face him. “The only thing missing is a star at the top, but I don’t think you’d fit.”

She gave his hand a gentle swat and huffed.

“You’re ridiculous.” But she was smiling anyway, and that was enough of a gift for him. He considered pulling her closer, spinning her around and trying to get her to laugh, but there was a knock on the door before he could. Link let go of her hand so she could answer it, and he was unsurprised to see Purah bouncing on her feet at the door, with Symin behind her carrying a far too large bag, probably full of presents.

“Check it!” she exclaimed--her form of a greeting, apparently. “Happy Hylia’s Day, you rascals! I’ve been looking forward to this all year!”

“Purah,” Zelda greeted. “It’s lovely to see you again!”

“You can put the bag down here,” Link told Symin, gesturing to the area under the stairs after shutting the door, keeping the cold outside. Now that Purah had stolen Zelda away for some excited conversation about Sheikah technology, Link had an opening. “Did Robbie manage to.. do the thing?”

“Fix it up? Yeah, I heard he and Purah talking last night. He was able to restore it, but I don’t know if it’ll have all the same functions as before,” Symin answered, his voice lowered to keep anyone from hearing. Some tension in Link’s shoulders relaxed. That was one thing checked off the list—the one thing he was really nervous about.

“I’m gonna owe Robbie an entire decayed guardian for this.”

“He’ll take payments in increments.”

Link snorted and shook his head. As eccentric as Robbie was, he was positive the Sheikah would try and refuse payment. But Link didn’t exactly need his permission to haul a decayed guardian up to Akkala’s Tech Lab, so it would turn out either way. He just hoped, with a glance towards Zelda, that it was the right gift.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Symin asked.

“You could take coats by the door,” Link joked as another knock echoed through their house.

He was pleased to see Sidon, Impa, and Paya were the next to arrive. But he didn’t get much of a greeting out before Sidon, crouching to get through the door, lifted him from the floor in a crushing hug.

“Happy Hylia’s Day, Link! Lovely to see you!”

All Link could really do was pat Sidon’s shoulder in return until his feet were returned to the ground.

The arrivals began increasing faster than he expected, with Teba and his family arriving next—with Kass in tow, of course.

“I’m worried we won’t have enough space,” Zelda stated suddenly, scaring the living daylights out of him. “We could move it outside, but we’d need a fire. I’m sure the Rito are fine with the cold, but we could give everyone else some blankets and coats. Do Zora get cold?”

“I don’t think so,” Link replied, furrowing his eyebrows. “The water in East Reservoir Lake wasn’t exactly warm, and Ruta hurling ice blocks at us didn’t make it any better.” He was still bitter that he didn’t think to use Cryonsis until he’d already been knocked off of Sidon twice.

“But the Zora are used to water, so perhaps they’re used to the cold as well.”

“Why don’t we just ask?” Link pointed out, bumping her with his shoulder. “We have a Zora.”

“You say that like Sidon is a pet,” Zelda scolded, crossing her arms.

“He’s basically a huge Hylian Retriever, yes.”

“Besides, would it be rude?”

Link grinned and ruffled her hair as he said, “Nothing is rude in the name of science.”

“Except eating a frog, apparently,” Zelda bit back, swatting at his hand.

“Oh, let it go,” he laughed. “I ate tons of frogs.”

“And?” she asked, lifting an eyebrow with a smug smile.

“You were right.”

“What are you two love birds talking about?” Sidon asked, and Link jumped for the second time that day. How could someone so large sneak up on him so easy, even if there was a good bit of noise in the house?

“Sidon!” Zelda said quickly, her cheeks flushed with pink. “We were just discussing moving everything outside.”

“Brilliant idea! Do you need help moving anything?”

Link thought of assuring Sidon he was a guest and didn’t need to lift a finger, but apparently those gears in Zelda’s head were turning.

“No, but we have a few extra strings of fairy lights,” she replied, tapping her chin. “We could put lights on the tree outside!”

“You,” Sidon said as he picked her up. “are a little genius, Princess! Everyone, outside!”

Link hardly got a word in before they were out the door. All he could do was laugh at them with a warm smile. This was more than he ever could’ve wanted.

“It’s good to see you happy.”

Kass was smiling at him, just in that way where he looked like he knew all he was thinking.

“Holiday cheer,” Link replied with a shrug, but Kass hummed.

“Ah, yes. Holiday cheer and nothing to do with dear Zelda.”

“Well,” Link sputtered, glancing towards the door everyone else had gone out of. “She helps. How’s, uh, how’s your song coming?”

“Rather well, actually. I think she’ll be pleased with it. Come, we’re missing all the fun.”

And Kass was right. Riju and Teba’s son were chasing each other around the pond, occasionally being joined by other village children, and Yunobo was being used as a rock pile to climb over in the process—not that he looked to mind it much. Buliara was observing carefully from her perch on the ramp, discussing something with Teba and Saki, and he was pleased to see they were all smiling.

Impa was busy scolding Purah for something, and Robbie was coming to her defense, and whatever Symin had interrupted with made them all laugh.

And then, to his (pleasant) horror, he found Zelda and Paya up in the tree, wrapping strings of lights around the bare branches. Sidon was underneath, wrapping another string around the trunk. They were having far too much fun with it.

Zelda spotted him from her perch and waved, and he had no choice but to join them in the decorating.

A little later into the evening, they sat around a campfire that turned out to be a joint effort and swapped various stories while they ate—stories about the Champions, who were there in spirit, about troubles they’ve solved, and other funny recalls of their lives. Link tried to listen, but his attention shifted every time he saw Zelda next to him with a smile on her face.

A gathering so wonderful wasn’t complete without swapping gifts. They’d given and received so many things, but Link chose to wait until everyone was finished to approach Zelda with his gift. Upon seeing the big box, she lifted an eyebrow.

“Alright. I know a Silent Princess isn’t this big, so what could you have possibly gotten me?” she asked, sitting in front of the crate. Link only shrugged and gestured for her to open it up.

Her careful fingers pulled the ribbon apart and she took the lid with both hands. He watched her closely, nervous for what her reaction would be.

Zelda was quiet for a moment, her eyes locked on the contents of the box. When she lifted her head to look at him at last, there were tears glistening in the firelight.

“Where did you find him?” she asked, her voice shaking.

“He was in that same crate on a shelf in your study. I brought it to Robbie and he was able to restore it,” he explained as he pressed the Sheikah Slate into her hands. Zelda tapped the screen with trembling fingers, and he bit back the urge to take her hand.

A soft beep filled the air and a blue light burst from the crate. A metal claw gripped the edge of the box, then a blue eye appeared and flipped its lid in greeting.

Zelda pressed a hand over her mouth and reached the other out towards the little guardian they’d found and studied all those years ago. It beeped again, pleased with her recognition, then scuttled out from the crate.

“It’s in near perfect condition. How did it get..?” But she decided she didn’t care and instead wrapped her arms tightly around Link, whispering out a million thank you’s. All he could do was press a kiss to her head and hold her close.

There were so many things he’d wanted to give her. There were so many things he wanted to say. But he knew of her love for the ancient technology, and he knew of her love for him.

Even if her list hadn’t truly existed, he wanted to give her something special. He wanted to give her everything and more, but for now, he was okay just giving her comfort that he remembered.

He remembered her, and he remembered their adventures, and he remembered her interests.

He remembered.

And by the kiss she’d given him, to the delight and cheering of the others, he thought it turned out to be the perfect gift after all.

Well, until the little guardian butted in with its opinion in not so polite beeps, but some things simply couldn’t be helped.

#zelink #botw link #botw zelda #botw zelink #christmas prompts #zelink prompts #my writing #eggbert said this was supposed to be his reunion dammit link #stop stealing his thunder

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temilyrights · 4 years

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the irony of it all

Summary: Jack Sloane x Reader. Two years apart and all it takes is being in her presence for all the feelings you’ve been trying to keep buried to come flying back. (OR Seeing Jack for the first time after she left and moved to D.C.)

A/N: "It'll be a while before I post again." She says and then proceeds to post another fic literally five days later! I'm actually pretty proud how this one turned out. I started writing this before the rumours that Maria is leaving surfaced and lowkey feeling like I jinxed it ahaha. As always, feedback is welcome and appreciated :) Enjoy!

Read on AO3

Jack enters the bullpen with her trademark grin, not at all surprised to see the whole team steadily typing away at their computers. Ellie’s the first to acknowledge her presence, her shoulders slumping in relief at the chance for a distraction. “Afternoon, Jack. Need anything?” The hope in Ellie’s voice has Jack trying to withhold her smirk. It wasn’t hard to work out who’d been tasked with sifting through the financial records.

“Afternoon. Just here to see if Tim has got the file from the FBI yet. I’d love to take a look.” Jack claps her hands and turns to face Tim. Ellie pouts and with obvious reluctance returns her focus to her computer.

“Apparently,” Jack’s lips twitch with humour at Tim’s clear frustration and eye roll as he looks up at her. “It includes sensitive information and requires an in-person briefing.”

“You aren’t convinced, obviously.”

“The only information I could get from the Agent over the phone was that it was a robbery case, and in my experience, they are never that sensitive. She’s on her way from Quantico but considering I called this morning she doesn’t seem in any rush to get here even though I told her our case was time-sensitive.”

Jack frowns. “That is odd. Do you know the agent?”

Tim shakes his head, looking to his computer. “FBI Agent Y/N L/N. None of us has heard of her.” Tim looks back to Jack with a shrug. His brows furrowing when he takes note of the way her face has paled considerably. “But I’m guessing from the look on your face, you do?”

That earns the attention of the rest of the team, but Jack doesn’t notice, too concerned with trying to regain control of her racing heart. It’s been over two years since she last spoke to you, there’s no way her body should still be betraying her like this. Gibbs places a hand lightly on her arm, jolting her back to the present.

“You okay, Jack?”

Jack coughs, clearing the lump in her throat. “Hmm, yeah. Just haven’t heard the name in a while, that’s all. You said she’s coming here?” She directs her attention back to Tim, keeping her voice airy as her feet shift beneath her and she resists her sudden urge to flee the room and not return until you were far, far away from the Navy Yard. You were the last person Jack expected to see in D.C. The last she’d heard you were still over two thousand miles away in San Diego.

Tim’s phone rings as if on cue, and Jack just knows it’s going to be someone downstairs informing him that you’ve arrived. Jack’s eyes flick up in the direction of her office, and Gibbs snorts with obvious amusement. Her lips squish into a thin line as she resists the urge to purse them in frustration.

“Friend of yours?”

‘Friend’ would never be a good enough word to describe what the two of you were, but there wasn’t a better one because how else do you describe an ‘almost’. Neither one of you had taken the jump towards becoming girlfriends, or lovers, or whatever. Jack had been getting close, was thinking about finally taking that step but then Leon had called and asked her to move to D.C. and everything had changed.

Jack still remembers the bitter edge to your voice when she’d told you. “I mean Leon’s been hinting for years that you should move to D.C., seems right he’d eventually ask outright, and it’s not like you’d ever say no to him.” It had been more than a low blow; it’d been cruel considering you knew about Afghanistan. You’d apologised later that evening, but it still stung. Jack couldn’t say no to Leon, not when she had such a huge debt to fill, and still did.

“She used to be.” Gibbs is waiting for more, but even if she wanted to say anything, she would have no idea how to even begin to describe what had happened between the two of you.

—— 2 ½ years ago ——

The night before Jack leaves for D.C. you both sit on the beach watching the sky as it fills with bright yellows and oranges, taking turns sipping from the bottle of wine you know she’d been saving for a special occasion. You suppose this is a special occasion. She’d told you six weeks ago, and it still didn’t feel true. Your best friend, who let’s be honest, you were very much in love with, was moving across the country for a job in D.C. all because of Leon fucking Vance. He’s the one who introduced you to each other a few years ago when he’d visited California, go figure he’d be the one to take her away too. You swallow down your anger and try to focus on Jack instead. You could be angry when she was gone, at least you’d finally start using your gym membership properly again.

“Are you excited to meet the legendary Leroy Jethro Gibbs?” You smirk, voice full of mirth as you accept the outstretched bottle of wine and take a sip. His reputation had reached the FBI a long time ago. When you’d joined it was to hear stories of the grey-haired, blue-eyed steely agent who’d shot an FBI Agent in the ass. You didn’t quite believe it but the stories since had only got wilder.

Jack snorts. “Hmm, yeah I don’t know how that’s going to go.”

“If Leon keeps him around, I’m sure he can’t be too bad.” You offer. Jack huffs, grabbing the wine bottle back from you. Her fingers brush yours, a soft smile taking over her face that has you quickly averting your gaze and trying to ignore the way your heart ached. “I mean he kept you around though, so that’s not saying much.”

“Hey!” Jack slaps you on the arm, breaking into laughter when you release a dramatic ‘Ow!’ You take one look at her and immediately follow. Her head tips back, blonde hair falling way past her shoulder. It’s wavy and slightly knotted from your walk across the beach but still beautiful. She is always beautiful. Your heart cracks, laughter dying out as you take her in, etching her face into your memory – the wrinkles by her eyes, her practically perfect smile, and the beautiful whiskey brown of her eyes. You try to remind yourself that this wasn’t goodbye, but it felt like it because even if you still spoke, you guys wouldn’t be the same, you couldn’t be.

Jack notices you’re no longer laughing, and her bright smile fades away. She reaches out, squeezing your hand. And you think about it; finally planting that kiss on her lips like you’ve fantasised about for longer then you care to admit. She’d kiss you back and you would more than likely end up back at one of your apartments, but you decide in the end it’s not worth it, it’s better not knowing. It would hurt less than waking up in the morning in her arms knowing it could never work. Other sides of the country, her at NCIS and you at the FBI, there was just no way.

You pull your hand from hers and return your attention back to the ocean, taking another long glug of wine. “You know, of all the possibilities I’ve dreamed up in my mind over the years, you leaving” me “the beach didn’t even cross my mind.”

“Y/N,” Jack breathes, the ache in her voice has you shutting your eyes. Sometimes you hated how good she was at working out what you weren’t saying. She reaches out for your hand again, but you shrug her off and move to stand up. This was all too much.

“Look, I should get going.”

“Wait, No, no, no.” Jack drops the wine bottle to the floor, quickly scrambling up and grabbing you by your wrists before you can take more than a couple steps away. “Come on, this is our last evening together.”

“I know, but I can’t. I can’t sit here and pretend I’m fine with you leaving when all I want to do is be incredibly selfish and ask you to stay.” The words spill from your mouth without your permission and your eyes flick upwards as you blink away the tears threatening to break free. You wouldn’t cry.

Jack’s mouth falls open, her eyes filling with her own unshed tears as she drops your wrist. “Y/N... You know I can’t.”

“But that’s the thing Jack, you could if you really wanted to.” It’s what hurts the most, that there was at least some part of her that obviously wanted to go. You were being childish and selfish when you should be being supportive, but you couldn’t help it. Not when you were so angry at yourself for never taking the step towards more because if you had maybe things would be different now.

There’d been an air of possibility between the two of you for months, years, and you had thought there was time, that there was no rush and when the time was right one of you would finally make the move, but now you’re out of time and she’s moving across the country and you don’t want to be sad so instead you’ll cling to your anger and hope she can’t tell she’s breaking your heart.

“We aren’t...we’re just friends, nothing ever happened. You can’t expect me to stay for a maybe.”

“I know.” You sigh, running a tired hand over your face. “I know that.” I just want to be enough. I want you to want me, to choose me. “As I said, I should go. I’m just going to end up saying something that’ll hurt us both and I don’t want to do that.”

“Okay,” Jack says, voice hoarse with emotions. “Okay.” before you can so much as move Jack’s pulling you into her arms, arms wrapped tightly around you. You hesitate but with a tired sigh, drop your head to her shoulder and pull her in closer. You breathe her in, sea salt and vanilla...you were going to miss that smell. Tears sting your eyes. You really hate goodbyes.

With a sniff, Jack pulls back, only far enough so you have to lift your head to look at her, she cups your cheek and you lean into the touch. “Don’t be a stranger, okay? Phone calls, FaceTime. We can still do friendship.” A hint of desperation seeps into her voice as she rests her forehead against yours, breathing you in like you had her moments before. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“We’ll be okay.” You didn’t believe it, but you couldn’t help but try to ease her worry, not when she was looking at you with such sad eyes. You lean in and press a peck to her cheek, and before you can pull back, Jack turns her head and captures your lips with hers, her hand tightening on your cheek to stop you from pulling away. As if you ever would.

Your hands grip her hips to cover up how they’re beginning to tremble and your eyes remain gripped tightly shut as your lips brush together, painstakingly softly as if one of you were any harder either of you might break. Jack’s lips quiver and tears finally begin to fall down your cheeks.

You were right in thinking it would be best not to know.

Jack pulls back with a shaky breath. You quickly wipe at your eyes, voice raspy with emotion. “Bye, Jack.”

“Goodbye, Y/N.” With a sigh and one last squeeze to your hand, Jack steps back. You turn and walk away, not allowing yourself to look back at the woman who’d just snapped your heart in two, no matter how much you wanted too.

—— Present Day ——

“She won’t be there.” You repeat under your breath for probably the tenth time since you had stepped onto the elevator, ignoring the looks from the NCIS agent next to you as you try to control your rising panic. The Navy Yard was a big place, and there was no guarantee she was even in the building.

The doors ding open, and you hold your head high as you exit. You haven’t taken more than a few steps when you find her. Her back is to you but there’s no doubt in your mind that it’s Jack. Your feet halt in their tracks, your breath instantly fleeing your lungs.

Jack’s shoulders tense and she slowly turns to look at you. Her jaw locked tightly shut, her brown eyes a storm of emotions. It’s overwhelming. You take her in, two and a half years and apart from the shorter hair and her missing necklace she looks exactly the same. You itch to touch her.

“Hey, Jack.” You breathe, desperately trying to keep your emotions in check. Anger flashes through her face. The hand resting on her arm tightening slightly, the man who must be Gibbs looking at her with a mix of concern and trepidation. Jack relaxes slightly and it has your gut in turmoil. She pats his hand but doesn’t drop your gaze, Gibbs lets go.

“D.C.?” Jack arches a brow, clearly unimpressed that you’re here.

“Yeah, couldn’t quite believe Davis when he offered me the job only to tell me it would be at Quantico.” Cosmic irony at its finest. You’d thrown yourself into your work after Jack left and when your boss had finally offered you the promotion you’d been working your whole career towards only to tell you you’d be less than an hour away from the woman you’d been trying to avoid thinking about you didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

You’d been on the east coast for about five months now and you’d thought a lot about reaching out but just didn’t know how. You didn’t think your ‘Hey Jack, I know I ghosted you after you went to D.C., but I’m here and still hopelessly in love with you, wanna grab a coffee?’ would go down very well.

“It was about time he realised you deserved your own team,” Jack smirks, her anger still present but slightly subdued, and your heart threatens to break free from your chest as you nod. You couldn’t put into words just how much you’d missed her. If you weren’t in a room full of strangers, and half sure she’d push you away, you would have already thrown yourself into her arms.

Someone clears their throat, effectively breaking your prolonged eye contact and Jack turns her attention to the man with a goatee before looking back at you. “Right. Uh, Tim, this is Y/N, sorry I mean Agent L/N, and Y/N this is Agent McGee. I believe you spoke on the phone.” You make your way further into the room, keeping a wide berth on Jack who mutters under her breath when you pass. “Guess she finally regained the ability to use it.” You pretend you don’t hear as you move to shake McGee’s hand.

“It’s a pleasure. Should we get right down to business?”

“Fine by me.” McGee smiles but you can tell he’s uncomfortable with this whole situation. “If you follow me, you can set up in one of our conference rooms.” You fall in step behind him, steadily avoiding looking at Jack, or Gibbs, who hadn’t stopped watching you since you’d stepped off the elevator.

“Guess we know why this case required an in-person briefing huh, someone wanted a reunion.” The other male agent whispers from behind you. You don’t need to turn around to know Jack will be glaring at him. “I was joking...kind of.”

The case really did require a briefing. You’d contemplated sending one of your agents but as lead agent on the case, it would be more suspicious if you weren’t the one who came. Not to mention it would be cowardly as hell.

You spend the next hour explaining your case and answering questions from everyone. Agent Bishop asks a few, her eyes trained on you in a calculating way that has you feeling very uncomfortable. The other agent who’d introduced himself as Torres was doing a terrible job of shooting subtle glances between you and Jack. Her eyes were fixed on a spot beside your head instead of actually on you, and you were doing everything to just completely avoid looking in her direction (which was difficult considering Bishop was next to her and was asking the most questions).

“Any more questions?”

“I think we’re good,” McGee says, looking at everyone who all nod along in agreement.

You nod your head, swallowing roughly. You look at Jack whose eyes remain fixed to the wall, and then look back to the rest of the team. They luckily all get the message that you want to talk and with a few interested looks, all leave the room, well apart from Gibbs who stands up but remains a few steps behind Jack. You barely contain your eye roll at his protective stance. As if Jack needed protecting from anyone.

Jack looks at him with a soft smile. “It’s fine. Go work the case.” Gibbs nods sharply, sending you one more untrustworthy look before stepping back and making his way from the room. The sound of the door shutting rings out loudly into the silence of the room.

“Well, he’s protective.”

Jack finally looks at you, her eyes full of fire. “Don’t you dare! You have no right to come in here and make comments or judgements about things you don’t understand.” She stands up as she talks, pointing a frustrated finger at you while still keeping the distance of the table between you.

“I’m not judging it was just an observation.”

Jack scoffs. “Right.”

“Look, I don’t want to argue with you.”

“Yeah, well what the hell do you want?”

Sighing, you shake your head and sit down. That was the million-dollar question, and you hadn’t got the slightest idea on a decent answer. “I wanted to call…”

“When? When you moved to D.C. or two and a half years ago?”

“Jack…”

“No, seriously. What happened to staying in contact, to being friends?”

“Are you kidding me?” Your eyes widen in disbelief, and you return to your standing position. “You kissed me is what happened. You kissed me and then you left and my heart broke!” You hope Jack doesn’t catch the way your voice cracks as all the emotions you’ve tried to pack away make themselves known. “I wanted to answer your calls, I did.” The few times she phoned after her move you’d just stared at it as it rang. Unable to get yourself to move or answer. “But I couldn’t sit on the phone and pretend everything was fine.”

“I wasn’t asking you too.”

“But you were. You wanted a friend, and I couldn’t be that. I was in love with you, Jack. You left and I just...I couldn’t.” Jack’s eyes water, and she quickly averts her gaze, arms held tightly across her chest. You take a step around the table and when Jack doesn’t immediately step back you continue, stopping only once you were standing beside Jack who still hadn’t turned to look at you. You sigh, speaking softly. Your hand itches to reach out and touch her but you refrain. It was already overwhelming being this close to her again. “I tried contacting you when I found out about Hakim. I wanted to jump on a plane, but I was in the middle of a case and by the time that was over Leon was back. You never responded, so I just assumed you didn’t want anything to do with me.”

Jack sniffs and doesn’t turn to look at you as she speaks. “The second I heard your voice I would have cracked. I needed to stay focused, to find Leon, I didn’t have time to break down.”

“But did you afterwards? I noticed you’re no longer wearing your necklace.” Jack’s hand goes to her neck, fingers fiddling with the dainty gold chain.

“I’m doing better.” She says, finally turning to look at you. Her eyes are so sad it makes your breath catch. You don’t think as you reach out and squeeze her hand. Jack looks at it in surprise but doesn’t snatch away from your touch.

“That’s good. I’m happy for you, Jack. You’ve got a great team. It’s clear to anyone with eyes how much they care about you. Bishop wouldn’t stop sending me looks and Gibbs was ready to drag me out the building.” You huff, and Jack’s lips twitch in amusement.

“They’re good people.”

Nodding, you finally let go of her hand. You were really glad she’d found her people. You just wished you were one of them still.

“How about you? How are you?”

Your small smile wobbles. “I’m good. You know, I’ve got work, and my team are good. Still getting to know them but we work well together.” You shrug, doing a bad job of hiding just how lonely you were. Even when you’d been in San Diego all your relationships had suffered. You’d basically breathed work in an attempt to distract yourself from your broken heart. It’d been Izzy who’d eventually dragged you on a night out and reminded you that you needed to find life outside of work.

You’d started dating again, were actually in a relationship that was going well, but then Hakim had happened, and you hadn’t been able to think of anything but Jack so that had all fallen apart.

And now you’re on the east coast. Sure, you’d made new friends, but you hardly saw any of them outside of work which was leaving your life a little empty.

“Y/N…” Jack says sadly, and your gut churns. She reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, and your heart aches. Your eyes fall shut as you bask in her touch. “I’ve missed you.”

Tears instantly spring to your eyes and you don’t think as you tug her closer for a hug, burying your head into her shoulder. Jack wraps an arm around you, the other coming to rest on your head. The smell of sea salt that you had always associated with her was gone, but the vanilla was still there, and you breathed it in. “I’ve missed you too.”

You both stand like that for too long, but you couldn’t let go. There was an overwhelming fear that the second you let go and left the room you would never get to see her again, that she wouldn’t want anything to do with you. She’d found a better life, had more than likely moved on. It wasn’t her fault that you hadn’t been able to shake your feelings. She was it for you. She was everything. And you didn’t think you could let her go again, not when you could finally breathe for the first time in over two years.

Tears begin to trickle down your cheeks, staining Jack’s shirt, and you hate yourself for letting them out. She shouldn’t have to see just how not okay you were. She’d always made you weak though, a smile, a touch, a look, and suddenly you were defenceless.

Jack’s hand moves from your head, as she pulls back slightly, prompting you to lift your chin and look at her. Her eyes are so unbelievably soft, and you quickly begin to wipe at your cheeks, embarrassed. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Jack says, voice hoarse with her own emotions. “I still think about that night and wonder what would have happened if I stayed. I don’t regret my choice” She couldn’t, not when she had a team that were family and was finally building a relationship with her daughter. Jack runs her thumb over your cheek, fascinated with how your eyelids flutter shut. “but I do regret hurting you. I regret that we never got a chance to be an ‘us’ because I think we would have been pretty amazing.”

Swallowing roughly, you open your eyes and your breath instantly catches when you see what you can only describe as love staring back at you. Her earlier words sting slightly, but she looks so much happier and calmer that you aren’t really upset because if anyone deserved happiness it was Jacqueline Sloane. Your voice is wistful as you speak. “I think we would have been too.”

“Maybe we still can be.” She says in a hushed whisper, and your heart promptly starts thumping in your chest because she couldn’t possibly mean- “If that’s something you’re still interested in, of course. I know it’s been years but I still lo-care for you. We could do dinner, there’s this place that Ellie’s been telling me I should check out, apparently they do delicious pasta dishes.” A smile brightens up your face as Jack nervously rambles on, your heart hadn’t stopped thumping and you were half tempted to pinch yourself in case this was all just some wild fever dream.

“I-I’d like that.” You manage to stumble out, halting Jack’s ramble. She deflates, nerves warded off as she bites her lip in attempt to control the grin attempting to break free.

“Really?” Jack’s thumb brushes your cheek again, and you let yourself lean into the pressure.

“Yeah.”

“Tonight? If the case doesn’t get in the way.”

“Tonight.” You agree, wide smiles break out on both your faces and hell, you’d really missed her smile. Two and a half years, five since you’d met, and nothing in the world would ever compare to that smile.

Guess not being a coward paid off.

#jack sloane x reader #jacqueline sloane #jack sloane #ncis #fanfic #writing #reader insert #fem!reader #regal-roni #the irony of it all #angst #happy ending #fanfiction

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bionic-penis · 3 years

Text

Here it is! Before we get into it I'd just like to say that I sent this all in discord and so i dont use the most academic language and i also had to cut out some bits where I was speaking/replying to friends :)

Okay so maybe Yang and Blake are just good friends, I can see that, but the storyline and all their major character events are so intertwined that it wouldnt make sense not to make them a couple

Spoilers for literally everything

But in my defense its been seven years

Anyway Yang and Blake's stories dont start getting seriously interconnected until around volume 3, but we do see them being closer to eachother than the rest of team rwby (save for Yang and Ruby but they're sisters so it doesnt count)

When Blake is stressed out over the White Fang in Volume 2, it takes Yang to snap her out of it

Also a lot of people have mentioned this but I'm gonna say it again for those who havent heard it but colours and weapons matter in rwby. They're a key element in the show

ahem

Colours play a big part in the design and storytelling aspect and rwby and its no coincidence that Yang eyes are purple and Blakes are yellow, which are eachothers like signature colours outside of Blakes black

But even more than that is weapons

As we learn from Ruby in the first Volume, a lot of students make their own weapons and, as it is constantly reiterated, weapons are an extension of the self in RWBY. They're not just a tool to be tossed around

In the show we see little instances of people interacting with and using other peoples weapons. There's that one scene where Ruby uses one of Penny's swords to defend Pyrrah, but that was out of necessity. however, over and over again we see Yang interacting with Blake's weapon, Gambol Shroud

As someones mentioned before, an entire moveset of theirs is dependent on it

So it's clear that these two characters are incredibly close

Moving on from that point, Id like to analyze the incidents thst occur in volume 3 and following events that further Yang and Blakes connection

In volume 3 after Yang "breaks" Mercurys leg due to Emeralds illusion, she sits in the dorm room surrounded by her teammates, yet the scene singles out Yang and Blake. When Yang asked if they (her team) believed her, Ruby and Weiss are ready to say yes, but Blake hesitates. Yang and Blake then share a moment where Blake explains that shes trusted people before who turned out to be cruel. She asks Yang to look her in the eyes and tell her that she (Yang) is telling the truth. Yang does so and Blake believes her this level of affirmation from one another is so unlike the rest of Team RWBY and even Team JNPR

Ofc in the dorm scene the person Blake is talking about is Adam, her abusive and possessive ex. Obviously your relationship with an abusive person effects any and all interactions/relationships, regardless of their extent, but I think it bears mentioning

Continuing on in the events of volume 3 when Beacon is being attacked and Blake is confronted by Adam, he has her pinned down and says something along the lines of "I am going to destroy everything that you love". Unfortunately this is when Yang happens to stumble into the scene. Horror is prominent on Blakes face. Yang sees Adam over Blake and yells at him before charging forward, which is when Adam cuts her arm off. It's a very emotional scene imo. Blake then uses her semblance to get her and Yang to safety

So let's analyze this

Adam specifically singled Yang out

Ofc yang was the only one there at the time but Adam didnt say "starting with your little teammates" he said "starting with her". Ofc this could just be me cherrypicking but I think that word choice has meaning

Regardless, this is an intense moment for Yang and Blake that really welds their stories together, romantic or not

In volume 4 Yang and Blake take a break from one another-- Jk but theyre separated. After the events at Beacon, and especially after what happened to Yang, Blake runs. And we get to see both women dealing with this and trying to come to terms with it. Yang is bitter. She's angry that Blake, specifically, left her. And Blake feels like she had to run away to keep everyone, specifically Yang, safe

In Volume 5 we dont get much interaction at all between Yang and Blake aside from the same feelings represented in Volume 4, but these are put on the back burner for Blakes White Fang arc

However these feelings take a forward play in Yangs mind and she even voices these feelings to Weiss and Ruby

I take a deep breath

Volume 6, Blake and Yang are together again but tensions are high. They have to learn how to be together again. When Blake and Yang finally have alone time in the shed, Blake expresses how she won't leave, which comforts Yang. However, Blake continues on to say how she will protect Yang to which Yang gets mad and the moment is ruined.

Despite this, Yang and Blake are still going strong and trying to make things work by being there and supporting each other

Yang and Blake's arc for Volume 6 reaches its peak in the fight against Adam. In this fight we see both women fighting the actual source of their trauma. One thing id like to note about this fight is that Blake starts it alone but is joined by Yang, who tells her to catch her breath. This fight is the first major fight Blake and Yang have fought together in a long time. And its amazing. During the fight, Adam screams at Yang in anger and jealousy, asking "WHAT DOES SHE SEE IN YOU?" And saying that she (Blake) cant protect Yang to which Blake replies "I'm not protecting her. And she's not protecting me." MIRRORING the conversation in the shed

the fight ends with Yang and Blake stabbing Adam through with Gambol Shroud, killing him

Now theres some little things id like to point out with this fight, aside from the amazing chemistry between Blake and Yang and the awesome choreography

Its during this fight that we learn about Adams semblance (magic power basically), which is that any hit he absorbs with his sword, he can return with greater force. This is a corruption of Yang's semblance, where any hit she takes herself she can return with greater force

Now why do I think this is significant? Because rwby is all about symbolism. I think Adam's semblance was specifically chosen to mirror Yangs. Adam doesnt have to deal with pain, he just deflects it, which is how his relationship with Blake plays out. She tries to let him off easy, she tells him to leave her alone, but he just can't take the hint, just like he can't take a hit. However, Yang does take the hits. Yang takes them all and it makes her stronger. She empathizes with Blake and works with her. Adam doesnt have to deal with the pain his actions cause because he doesnt care. This reflects Yangs extremely empathetic personality. Yang knows what consequences her actions can have. She can take the pain

Another thing id like to point out is Adam's behaviour during the fight. He lashes out as Yang for getting in between Blake and him, blaming her for his flaws. He targets her just like in Volume 3. I think this was done purposefully

Another thing is Yang runs Bumblebee off the cliff to help Blake! Her bike! I think this is important bc yang loved her bike. It was part of her brand for the longest time. Perhaps running it off the cliff in the fight vs Adam is a nod to growing by letting things go? Idk I just feel like its an important beat

In Volume 7 we see Yang and Blake working together more regularly again with even a few flustered glances (maybe). Marrow even mentions that they never pair up with anyone else to which they respond with a cool fight scene this feels like the extent of their interaction since Volume 7 focuses more on ruby

Volume 8 isnt finished but there is one line that I think is important which is when Yang asked Jaune if "she'll think bad of me if we fail?" To which Jaune responds "Ruby's your sister" and Yang says "yeah... Ruby..." LIKE EXCUSE ME?

[I take some time to riff with my friends and partner before continuing]

ANOTHER THING

Adam BREAKS Gambol Shroud during their fight, mirroring how Yang, once again, works with Blake and Gambol Shroud. This is yet another example of Adam being violent and abusive towards Blake where Yang is sympathetic and kind. Theyre set up to be narrative opposites

Even though both Adam and Yang are both hot heads, utilize a similar semblance, and both have a deep connection with Blake, they are not the same bc Yang trusts and appreciates Blake while Adam does not

Also Adam and Yang both share the same sentiment of "Blake left me" but whereas Adam lashes out at Blake, Yang is mostly frustrated. Unlike Yang, Adam never attempts to work it out with Blake, which is where the two differ greatly. Yang is willing to listen whilst Adam is not

TLDR: uh give me Bmblb content right now Roosterteeth or I will suck the marrow from ur bones

#rambles #rwby tag #rwby #bmblb #YES IM PUTTING IT IN THE MAIN TAGS I DESERVE IT #also i wrote this like a few episodes or so into v8 so 🤧

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magniloquent-raven · 4 years

Note

for the I Love You prompts: harringrove, 20) “You can borrow mine.”

thank you so much for the prompt!!! hope u enjoy what i did with it lol

posted on ao3

It’s been two years since the Hargrove-Mayfield family moved to Hawkins, and Billy is still here. He never planned on staying this long—in fact, he started coming up with an escape route the second his boots hit the ground, and yet…

Well, plans change. He didn’t plan on getting stabbed through the chest by a thirty-foot-tall spider demon made of people sludge either, but shit happens. Life happens. Falling in love happens, apparently. Not that Billy thought it would ever happen to him.

But here he is. In Hawkins, Indiana, head-over-fucking-heels, hanging around like a pathetic stray hoping for table scraps of whatever Steve Harrington’s willing to give him. They’re friends now, and Billy’s savouring every moment he can, while it lasts.

Steve asked him, one afternoon, why he was still here. “Figured you’d take off after graduation is all. Hawkins doesn’t exactly have much worth hanging around for,” he’d laughed, a little self-deprecating. “Besides, uh, a lot of bad memories here. I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to leave.”

And Billy hadn’t known what to say. Muttered something about sticking around for Max, which wasn’t exactly a lie, but wasn’t anywhere close to the whole truth.

He spends a whole lot of time in that grey area. Weaving just enough reality into his cover-stories to make them solid enough to hide behind. It’s fucking exhausting. And sometimes a dangerous line to walk.

Especially since Steve seems to buy into his bullshit less and less lately.

Maybe it’s the fact that dying and coming back changes your perspective a bit, or hanging around Steve so much is making him soft, or some combo of both, but he’s starting to wonder if maybe he could let go of it entirely, and just…live honestly.

Which isn’t an option, not really. But sometimes, in the small moments when Steve smiles at him and the weight on his shoulders doesn’t feel as heavy, he thinks maybe, maybe, it could be. And it scares him a little. How much he wants it to be an option.

It’s a cold evening in mid-November the first time he really slips.

They’re at Robin’s house, of all places. Despite Billy’s jealousy over the closeness of her and Steve’s friendship, he gets along with Robin. Almost too well, according to Steve.

So, it’s a thing. All three of them hanging out at her place.

Her dad makes awesome mac n’ cheese. Her mom is friendly, but not too friendly. And they let Robin hang out in her room with two boys without making a huge fuss about it.

It’s nice.

Billy almost makes it through the whole evening without doing something stupid, but then Steve (somehow) spills an entire can of Coke on his jacket, and Billy opens his big mouth without thinking.

“You can borrow mine.”

The thing is…Billy doesn’t really get cold anymore. He gets warm still. Way too easily. Sometimes he’ll bundle up just to remind himself he can get warm without it hurting. Without the thing inside him dying of it and destroying him in the process. So, he still wears jackets, sweaters, whatever-- probably more often than he used to, actually-- but he doesn’t need them.

Sometimes he wonders if one day he’ll freeze to death without noticing, or if frostbite isn’t a thing for him anymore. He hasn’t had the balls to test it.

Either way it’s like the world’s dumbest super power. Just another thing reminding him of shit he doesn’t want to remember.

Steve is staring at him. At the jacket in his hand. It’s his leather one. The one Max bought for him after he came back from the hospital. She’d wrapped it up all pretty with a bow and note that said “glad you didn’t die” in purple ink. Susan was mortified when she noticed it but Billy laughed so hard he nearly busted his stitches.

He’s worn the jacket almost every day since.

Robin is staring too, with a weird, calculating look in her eye, and he doesn’t like it.

“I…” Steve’s gaze wavers, flickering between Billy’s face and his hand again, “I can just—”

“Just take it, Harrington,” Billy interrupts, hoping the gruffness covers for how pink his cheeks are. He tosses the jacket, and Steve catches it reflexively, still looking at it like he’s not sure it’s real.

“Are you sure?”

Is he sure. That he wants to know what Steve looks like in his jacket? Yes. That he wants anyone else to know that? No.

Billy shrugs, aiming for non-committal. “Not like I need it,” he gestures vaguely towards himself, “Not entirely human anymore, remember?” Bitterness creeps into his tone without his permission.

“Hey,” Steve admonishes. Quietly, softly, but still a reprimand. His eyes are wide, concerned. Billy tries to wave him off, but Steve shakes his head and takes a step closer. “Don’t do that. You’re not a monster.”

“I—” he can’t hold eye contact anymore, not with Steve looking at him like that. He stares at the ugly yellow carpet beneath his feet instead. “Didn’t say that.”

“Yes, you did,” Steve responds immediately, tone firm and direct. Because he knows. Knows Billy better than anyone has in a long time. Which is saying something, because Billy is friends with a girl who’s literally been inside his head.

It makes Billy want to curl up in a hole somewhere and never speak again. Run as far as he can. Cry ‘til he can’t anymore. Break shit. Blow up his life and start over. Being known feels so foreign, he doesn’t know what to do with it.

But under that there’s something delicate, warm and fragile, tentative. He’s afraid to get near it. Like it’ll disappear if he looks too closely. Shatter into pieces if he tries to bring it out of hiding.

“Alright. Alright, fine,” Billy mutters weakly. “But just… wear the jacket, okay? Really. I don’t need it. Besides, it’d look good on you.”

Whoops.

Somewhere off to the side Robin makes a small, amused sound, and alarm bells go off in Billy’s head. But before he can completely panic, backpedal and pretend he was joking despite sounding entirely sincere, Steve grins.

They’ve been friends for over a year now and Billy’s world still stops for a moment when Steve smiles at him.

And then he puts the jacket on and…

Wow.

Okay.

Billy has always liked looking at Steve. He’s never really hidden that fact, just banked on nobody figuring out the why of it. He’s aware-- painfully aware-- that Steve is incredibly gorgeous.

But this is...

This just isn’t fair.

Steve looks a little sheepish, and stuffs his hands in his pockets, hair falling in his eyes when he ducks his head. And he’s blushing. It’s faint, barely-there, just a light pink tinge to his cheeks that nobody would’ve noticed if they weren’t paying close attention, which. Well. Billy is.

He wants to feel it under his palms, feel the warmth of it. Wants to know if he can make that blush spread, see how far it would go, chase that heat with his mouth, drop to his knees and watch Steve come undone. He wants--

So much.

He’s sure it’s written all over his face, but he can’t bring himself to care.

“Well?” Steve raises his eyebrows, grin turning teasing as he spreads his arms, glancing down at himself pointedly.

Billy clears his throat. Blinks. “Suits you,” he answers after a too-long pause.

“Can we go now?” Robin interjects, rolling her eyes. Her tone is more fond than exasperated, but Billy still flinches a little.

“Yeah,” he says quietly, gaze flicking over to Steve for a second before he looks back at Robin. “Yeah, let’s go.”

He “forgets” to ask for his jacket back before he goes home that night. There’s no guarantee that Steve would wear it again, but Billy can hope.

And for once in his life, he gets what he wants. Steve starts wearing it all the time. But Billy’s starting to see why people say “be careful what you wish for” because the whole situation is a very mixed blessing.

He keeps catching Robin giving him weird looks, and, really, he can’t blame her because he’s been so unsubtle lately, it’s embarrassing. And terrifying. Because it’s going to get him noticed by the wrong person someday.

But he can’t fucking help it, not when Steve’s walking around looking like that.

Though, Steve’s been acting odd too. Staring at Billy when he thinks no one’s looking, face all pinched and thoughtful. It’s getting worrying.

Then one afternoon Billy walks into Family Video and Steve pulls him into the back room. No hello or anything, just a hand around Billy’s wrist and a determined set to his jaw.

He locks the door behind them.

“Steve?”

“I talked to Max this morning.”

“O...kay?”

Steve sighs, runs a hand through his hair. His other hand is still wrapped around Billy’s wrist. “She said. Um. That jacket was a gift?”

Oh.

Shit.

“Yeah, so?” Billy flinches at his own tone but Steve doesn’t move, doesn’t pull away. His grip tightens, fingertips pressed to Billy’s skin hard enough to feel his pulse pounding.

Steve takes a step forward. They’re close enough that Billy can see the purple shadows under Steve’s eyes. He doesn’t get enough sleep. Always asking Billy if he’s still having nightmares, never worrying about his own. Billy’s heart aches, and he hopes Robin will take care of Steve if this conversation ends his and Steve’s friendship. Someone needs to look after this boy if Billy isn’t there to do it.

He hates that thought.

“So, I… Billy, why’d you give it to me?”

“Because…” Panic hits him hard, belatedly, as he tries to imagine actually answering that question. His stomach clenches, flips, and he curls in on himself. “Because you needed it,” he finishes lamely.

But of course Steve sees through him, of course he does. “Really?” Steve sighs, rolling his eyes.

“What do you want from me, Steve?” Billy snaps, nervous energy making him jittery, he feels cornered, caught up in all the ways this could blow up in his face, trapped. He calms down a smidge when regret hits him, and he takes a breath, hates himself a little for snapping.

“I want you to tell me it meant something, asshole.”

Billy freezes.

He looks up at Steve, really looks at him, sees tension in his shoulders, the nervous twist of his mouth, uncertainty in his eyes.

Oh.

“You...really?” Billy breathes, quietly, terrified of shattering the moment. “It does--it--it did, I--” Words have never failed him so completely. He used to be good at this. It would be utterly mortifying if not for the sweet smile spreading across Steve’s face. He’s strangely okay with making a fool of himself if it means Steve looking at him like that. “I wanted…” he squeezes his eyes shut, bracing himself, “I wanted to take care of you. I always...want that. You needed something and I--I’d give you anything--”

Steve’s hands are warm. He cradles Billy’s face gently, so careful, and tilts his face upwards until Billy meets his eyes.

“Anything?”

Well. No turning back now. Might as well embrace this whole honesty thing. “Yeah, pretty boy. Anything. Besides, you look hot as fuck in leather.”

Steve grins at that, eyes crinkling at the corners, and he lets out a huff of a delighted laugh. “In that case, I’m gonna need you to kiss me--”

He barely has time to finish his sentence before Billy lunges forward, crashing their lips together. It’s messy at first, desperate, Billy’s fingers threaded through Steve’s hair, pulling him closer. A whine escapes him (that he would deny later) when Steve pulls back, but he’s only gone for a second. He presses forward again, but gentler this time, slow, one hand falling to Billy’s waist and the other sliding to the back of his neck.

Billy could’ve stayed like this forever, but a loud, insistent knock at the door makes them both jump.

“Steve, I don’t care if you’re mid-BJ right now, it’s my break, and you locked yourself in there with my stuff!” Robin yells through the door.

Steve rests his forehead against Billy’s shoulder and he muffles a laugh into his shirt. “Goddamnit, Robin,” he mutters, and lifts his head to glare at the door, “Alright!” he calls, then turns to Billy. “To be continued?” There’s a question in his eyes, more than what he’s saying out loud.

Billy brushes a lock of hair from his face, and grins, “Count on it.”

#harringrove fic #harringrove #billy x steve #billy hargrove #steve harrington #a raven's writing desk

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myinterestsvary-writes · 3 years

Text

gotta admit, in the beginning of the resurgence I was open to the concept of zutara as I've previously harboured affection for ships similar to it and was yet again unsurprised that kind of dynamic dominated in fandom. frequently seeking and liking their posts, reading their meta and genuinely willing to change sides as I've seen many zks have done since I was impressed with the thought that kataang was maybe just a phase, with their reasoning being understandable (though a little odd) until I saw the uglier side of the zutara fandom that just. DID NOT. sit well with me. in short, they seemed very out of touch with what I associated most fondly with atla from memory pre-resurgence: iroh, whom I recognized as the heart of the show at the time - you know the fandom's single most important character's mentor and father figure? the same man whose quotes are so easily accessible and relevant even now. yeah, I found that a lot, a lot of their reasonings for their stance for zutara and against kataang were shallow, insignificant, and for a lack of a better word...bullshit because it relied on the popular trend of categorizing characters into either good or bad radfem tropes with the pure intention of moralizing to the youth and encouraging them into thinking there were to be no other way to tell a story without their method that'll work or in ways that you can find even the slightest bit acceptable. especially without even bothering to look at intention or nuance behind the storytelling decision because of the fact that, "iT mADe mE unCOMFortABlE".

another thing is the media circulation picking up on the ship war happenings from CBR, screenrant, the mary sue, some obscure fan blog/professional enough news outlet tailored to geeks called The Fandomentals or ridiculous headlines like that hilariously (and almost disgustingly) titled Slate magazine article, "Katara Should Have Ended Up with Zuko, Not Aang (they chose the wrong ship 👀)"

and this post pretty much cementing how I would continue to feel about that particular subfandom and how I will interact with it on a similar level until I leave the general atla fandom:

all pushing the same tired arguments and coming across as utterly bitter despite their fandom being so "welcoming", "loving", and "beautiful"...

alright, iroh wouldn't care for any of it.

why can't anti kataangers ever be evidently nowhere near involved with zutara in any sense prior to? why couldn't some of the biggest criticisms of such an incredible show like atla never not reek of shipping biases on some level?

at least, from what I've witnessed from within the kataang fandom is that we identify and praise what ourselves have recognized as the show's heart on a daily basis. note that I'm biased but also consider it's because he's the other half of our beloved ship.

all I'm saying is that shipping kataang has brought me closer to enlightenment

#cruising on the canon ship #unsinkable ship #their mark is already made and permanent #anti zutara #am i unintentionslly insinuating ya'll should ship more iroh ships?#maybe...

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love-sapphirerose · 3 years

Text

Yashahime: Princess Half-Demon Episode 21

https://www.animenewsnetwork.com/review/yashahime-princess-half-demon/episode-21/.170045

I was naïve enough to hope that, after delivering an essentially tolerable half-hour last week, Yashahime might finally be on the upswing. Except I forgot: Yashahime is where hope goes to die. The animation, voice-acting, and direction all still range from mediocre to outright bad; nothing's changed there. In order to truly understand what makes “The Secret of the Rainbow Pearls” so lame, we have to talk about its writing, and that means the return of ~Yashahime Masterpiece Theater~, where I provide a completely accurate, line-by-line breakdown of Yashahime's many flaws! We begin some two-hundred years before the beginning of InuYasha, with Kirinmaru plotting his defeat of the Great Dog Demon…

—Prologue: Wherein We Technically Learn About the Secret of the Rainbow Pearls.—

The Four Perils: Lord Kirinmaru, the Great Dog Demon is ill, which makes right now the perfect time to strike!

Kirinmaru: You idiots! I'm an honorable and soulful villain. I only want to kill the GDD if we're on equal footing! Riku, go deliver these medicines to him, so I can murder him later!

Riku: Kay. [He leaves]

Lady Zero: That damned fool Kirinmaru! If only he'd be willing to murder the GDD while he's down! This is why we haven't taken over the world yet! [Riku returns]

Riku: Yo, so I went to go deliver those meds, but that Great Dog Demon dude is definitely dead.

Lady Zero: What!? No! how cruel, how unjust is this world to take from it such a beloved creature! I simply cannot handle this grief, so I'm going to use my tears on the Shikon Jewel to make these Rainbow Pearls, which are like Infinity Gems, I guess? Point is, I'm not even a demon anymore, except I'll still be immortal and young even hundreds of years from now, so maybe I am a demon still?

Riku: Um.

—End Prologue—

(Why does Lady Zero's entire disposition turn on a dime? Why does it take almost two hundred years for Riku to get ahold of the other Rainbow Pearls? I hope you weren't hoping for answers to any of those questions, because instead the episode takes us to…)

—Act One: Wherein Towa Is Very Bad at Listening to Directions. Again.—

Setsuna: Alright, sis, look. Moroha and I are going off to do…whatever it is we do in our free time. It's the new moon, and you're powerless again. We all know that everything you touch is immediately ruined, so I am begging you. Please. Do not go anywhere. Do not do anything. Just stay inside with Kaede. Got it?

Towa: Yeah, yeah, I got it! Geez. Hey, Kaede, how are—

Kaede:[Unprompted] Have I ever told you about how much you remind me of your mother, Rin? I lived with her for years, and when she disappeared after you were born, it broke my heart.

Towa: You've literally never mentioned any of this to me, even though we've been in Feudal Japan for…I dunno, a while? Anyways, I guess I'm mildly interested in this. What happened? Did she die?

Kaede: I dunno. Probably.

Towa: Huh. Well, what about me reminded you of her?

Kaede: She was…nice?

Towa: Neat. Oh damn, was that the Dream Butterfly!? [Towa immediately runs outside to get into some shenanigans]

Setsuna:[Miles away] Seriously, Towa, what the fu—

—End Act One—

(I don't need to go into any more detail about why it's so ridiculous that it has taken twenty-one episodes for Towa to show even a passing interest in one of the most important story threads that fans have been dying to have resolved, right? That's good, because we haven't even gotten to the next part yet…)

—Act Two: Wherein Things Get Really Dumb. —

Towa: Aw, man, I lost the Dream Butterfly! I guess I'll give up on that again for another season or two. [Enter Riku]

Riku: Hey there girl. Remember me? I'm that sketchy guy who always shows up at suspiciously convenient moments. I got you arrested that one time? I have an inexplicable knowledge of the villains' movements and plans?

Towa: It's tea time! [The episode becomes about these two sharing a romantic tea picnic, for some reason]

Riku:[A few minutes of unbearably cringy flirting later…] So anyway, I'm, like, all about these Rainbow Pearls. You know, the incredible magic artifacts that are lodged in you and your twin sister's eyes? I gotta snatch 'em all!

Towa: Oh yeah. That isn't even a little suspicious! I've honestly never thought about them much. What do they even do when you have them all together?

Riku: Who knows? Your powers would increase, I suppose. Or perhaps a devastating Degenerate Age could begin…[Riku gives a mischievous double-wink]

(Note: That is really Riku's line from the show, straight up. Even the wink.)

Towa: I have no follow up questions for you. At all. Not even one! It's a good thing that I'm out here, vibing with such an obviously trustworthy dude, especially since I don't have any powers tonight!

Totetsu: Surprise! I'm gonna kill you all, you motherfu—

—End Act Two—

(There's a fight scene here, it's nothing special. The only noteworthy thing is that Riku summons some awfully familiar-looking poison miasma bees. Oh, and he takes a bunch of bees to the back to protect Towa, which leads us to the worst part of the whole episode…)

—Act Three: Wherein…You Know What? Just Read It For Yourselves. Trust Me.—

Riku: Agh! Towa, I've got to tell you that I used to work for Kirinmaru, that guy who wants to murder everything you love. Well, I used to work for him, but we both have *separate* schemes for the Rainbow Pearls, so it's been kind of awkward.

Towa: Yeah, yeah. Whatever, sure. Have I told you that I kind of have a crush on you?

Riku: Oh. Well, that's nice and all, but I don't know if you heard— [Setsuna and Moroha conveniently arrive]

Setsuna:Towa, you had one job. How are you so bad at this? Plus, this Riku guy is definitely a creep! He smells like our worst enemy! It's weird!

Towa: I know, isn't it hot?

Moroha: Um. [Riku brutally decapitates Totetsu, leaving his head to gasp and twitch on the ground. It's honestly pretty metal]

Riku: I'm just so good at murdering things. Wowzers!

Towa: You see, so trustworthy! In fact, he's so trustworthy that I'm just going to give him my Silver Pearl!

Moroha: Wait, what!?

Setsuna: That is, without a doubt, the stupidest thing you could possibly do at this moment. What on earth would make you think, even for a second, that—

Towa: Already done, no takebacks! Byeeeeeee!

Riku: Um….Okay? Peace out, then! [Riku dips out]

Setsuna: Was that really okay, handing over your Pearl like that? With those Rainbow Pearls he'll have immense demon power. We can only hope that their rightful owner won't use them for evil… [Towa looks very shocked by this ridiculously obvious point]

Moroha: And wasn't Mr. Riku working with Kirinmaru?

Towa: That's right!? I changed my mind! Give me back my Silver Pearl!!! Riku, wait!

Riku: Haha. No.

—End Episode—

You know what the kicker is? That final exchange up there is taken word-for-word from the dialogue in the final scene. What more is there to say, when Yashahime's actual script becomes virtually indistinguishable from my bitter snark? It's one thing to try and blend some humor into your fantasy adventure story, but it's another thing altogether for the show to make its ostensible lead heroine into such an incompetent joke. This week's Half-Star of Pity comes from the single redeeming moment of the entire episode: Moroha finally got herself a corpse head to sell! Good for you girl! Now go buy yourself a hot meal, a fresh set of clothes, and a one-way ticket out of this show, because Lord knows it isn't doing you any favors.

#anti yashahime #anti hanyo no yashahime #anti sunrise #anti towa #anti moroha

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pergaias · 4 years

Text

soon we’ll be home ; pt. i

umm here i am with more writing ?

here’s a short story i wrote based off of almost home by mxmtoon, innocent by taylor swift, and never grow up by taylor swift ; um, i personally adore it - maybe i’m just biased, but i love the emotions and descriptions in this :))

i hope you love it as much as i do !

word count ; 2470

When I was eleven years old, all I wanted to do was grow up.

They told me that I wouldn’t want to - being a child is … it’s the time of your life, Mama promised. She wore spicy-sweet citrus-blossom perfume and always-smudged eyeglasses that hung on long beaded strings. Mama was glittering smiles and woolen cardigans and a tired, sad sort of energy, like coffee that had been left to go cold.

Mama made a lot of empty promises.

And because of it, all I wanted was to grow. To me, growing up meant laughing with friends, going to bed past midnight, driving in a bright-red sedan - eleven-year-old me had an extensive vocabulary, even if I didn’t know how to properly apply it - kissing boys and wearing dresses and lipstick. Things that I couldn’t have back then. Things that I thought were only attainable if I was grown.

Why - why did I want it?

The coffee shop was filled with a droning buzz, the hum of university students up too late with too much caffeine in their systems. There was nobody coming to place orders, so I was leaning on my elbow on the bar, the smell of coffee and caramel syrup thick in my nostrils. No shouts of Emmie! As my friends - if they could be called that - barged in, eyes bright, cheeks flushed, scarves caught with snow.

Growing up had hurt. The realization that I wasn’t a child, that there was no place of retreat that I could go back to, that no one would comfort me or stroke my hair or hold me as I cried myself to sleep. It was easier in my lunch box days - when I believed in everything.

And everybody believed in me.

There was a tinkling, and the coffee shop doors open. My eyes snapped wide, and a group of people sauntered to the counter, coats dusted with snow and cheeks high with color from the cold. Strangers in red and green and gold, stories in their own rights.

I wondered what they were waiting for - it was obviously something more than a hot cup of coffee on a late, snowy night.

A mocha for the girl, extra whip. Green tea for another girl, who was picking at her chipping gel nails. Americanos for the two boys who were holding hands. A peppermint special - sorry, love, pumpkin spice is still on the menu. Oh, yes, I’ll take that.

My hands shook as I wrote names and orders onto cardboard coffee cups, the scent of tea and coffee and spices almost overwhelming for a moment. Growing up was like Mama’s candied orange peels, mostly bitter but sweet if you looked for it.

And I - well, I was too tired to look for it.

Vega was in the back, her colorful highlights barely visible under a black knit cap. Vega had a septum piercing, a tattoo, and a girlfriend at home. She was the kind of person Mama - and Papa, for that matter - would have told me to stray away from on the street, but the kind of person I secretly admired nonetheless.

Curvy, brunette Emerson Quinn-Whitley, the girl with the fake friends and shattered dreams and eyes the color of the coffee she made for minimum wage on a late shift, admiring an almost-delicate petite girl who did what she wanted when she wanted it, a girl with dyed hair and emotionless, luminous fox’s eyes, lips stained red with the blood of her conquests.

I shook the thought away. Vega was nice enough - Asian American, scholarship, hard worker, girlfriend at home, etcetera etcetera. I handed her the orders and leaned on my elbow again, my backpack full of shattered dreams, sleepless nights, and the sexy promise of an all-nighter.

Vega filled the orders, her thinly-plucked brows pressed tightly together in concentration as she drizzled something onto another something. The thought of why why why why why nagged me almost as much as the homework did. Why did I want to grow up? Why did I?

Because you were impatient, a sour part of my conscience nagged. Because you hated the rules your mother imposed on you, reminded another. Because you were waiting for Neverland, a different part sighed. A wistful picture painted behind my eyelids of a castle waiting for me to be queen, which slipped away like a tear down a cheek.

They didn’t tell you that all the love you give might not be enough. Was it when I had that epiphany that I grew up? A thousand possible moments, snapshots, memories, tinted dark like Polaroid photos.

The chatter in the room crescendoed as Vega finished with the group’s drinks, her usually brooding expression firmly in place as she pressed a pumpkin-spice-not-peppermint-mocha into a girl’s mittened hands and shooed her out the door.

Bad vibes, Vega mouthed at me, hazel eyes twinkling. Vega liked witchy things - crystals, detox tea, chunky jewelry and drapey black dresses. Vega had personality - you could see it on the rings on her hands, the swoop of her black, color-streaked bangs, the hand-painted night sky on her bookbag.

I tapped my fingers against the counter, counting minutes - seconds - until . . . what? Would a prince drop waltz through the glass door and offer me his hand? Would a fleet of owls - no, crows - no, how about peacocks, those sound cool - appear out of nowhere with summons for me, the lost heir, who had family and promise and a story, far far away?

If I wanted to grow up, this wasn’t it. I didn’t want to sit on a high stool behind a cash register, the smell of burnt coffee pressing in on me, the insufferable buzz of students doing homework droning on over the music playing slow and low in the background?

Our other employee, an unpleasant dudebro who went by Albie - his name, I had discovered, was Alberto de la Cruz the fourteenth or something - had chosen today’s coffee shop playlist. I had no idea who he was trying to drive mad first with the rapping; Vega and I, who bitched about his taste in everything from music to cars to girls - and one time, interestingly, tomato sauce, or our customers. They came here for cool beans and caffeine and classic rock or indie music, not Billboard’s Top 100 Rap Failures.

“Almost closing time,” Vega remarked, idly brushing an eyelash off of her cheekbone. She was tired - I could see it in the hunch of her shoulder and the tone of her already-husky voice.

I turned away from her as my head rushed to make excuses as to why I noticed that. Vega is dark chocolate and spellbooks, old bookstores and flickering chandeliers.

“Yeah,” I said, my voice as droning as it was tired. “If coffee could power me the way it powered them -” I gestured to the students starting to slowly pack up their laptops and notes, their hours of free wifi, heat, and shitty music coming to an end, “I would have foreseen sleep in my near future.”

Vega cackled. She didn’t have a laugh - she cackled, wheezed, snorted. It was equal parts entertaining and annoying, especially when you were working with scalding-hot espresso and your coworker started honking like a demented goose next to you.

“That was a good one, Quinn-Whitley,” she barked, a gleam in her eyes. She was emotionless when she made coffee, and only talked to me around closing time and during lunch. I liked to think that I was the only one who got to see this side of her - probably high, very very gay, and incredibly enthralling. Vega was a story that I wanted to read.

I half smiled, preemptively untying my coffee shop apron and haphazardly hanging it on a hook. As much as I disliked working at the coffee shop - which had, ironically, been a vaguely romantic, soft sort of fantasy when I was younger - it was comforting, in a way. Comforting in the way the smell of coffee brought you back to when you were nine and your mother had a mug curled in her hands, staring out the window as rain pattered on its panes.

The last of the coffee shop’s patrons gloomily filed out, coats turned up to block out the wind, and Vega and I silently closed up, making coffees for each other, muttering don’t tell Carney - Carney was the shop owner - pressing day-old muffins into each other’s hands, Vega rolling her eyes as I hastily stuffed another bite of pastry into my mouth.

Leaving the coffee shop was routine. I’d scuff my boots along the lightly-snowed-over pavement, Vega would put her headphones on and tune out the world, and I’d drag her out of the way if she veered into some poor unsuspecting soul’s way.

“Vega!” I exclaimed, dragging her across the street. Her eyes were closed, her dark-red lips moving along with the song, completely blissed out. Or maybe she was just that sleep deprived.

Vega and I had the same student housing building, but other than that, I knew nothing about her - not really, but I wasn’t a stalker-watcher-psychopath or anything - yet Vega wasn’t heading to the gothy, romantic brick building. I described too many things as ‘romantic’ nowadays.

Growing up had been romantic, too - the idea of being on my own, making my own decisions, getting taller and more voluptuous, as if my flat-chested boyishness of sixth grade was the root of all my problems. ( Spoiler alert, Younger Emmie - they weren’t. )

“Vega,” I said again, pulling at her coat sleeve. Her eyes were half-closed, her headphones firmly over her ears. I was getting exasperated - every night as we walked back, she zoned the world out. It was admirable - I was paranoid and hyperaware of everything around me, the opposite of slim, petite Vega in every way.

But she opened one of her luminous hazel eyes, lashes dark against her cheeks, and beckoned me forward. Towards the river.

“Come on, Emerson!” she laughed, and I was stunned. Vega Zhao was dark chocolate and mysterious smiles, dark loose dresses and the fringe of a woolen scarf. She didn’t laugh or smile wide or drag me down an icy street to an equally icy river.

“Vega - what?” I said weakly, still holding onto the sleeve of her crowlike coat. She rolled her eyes. Beckoned me again. Didn’t take her headphones off.

She had always been strange - the brooding, emotionless expression. The personality in her clothes and makeup and hair, but not in her unless we were on break. Vega was a mystery, a novel that was still being read.

And I think I had gotten to the plot twist.

She carefully clambered over the low stone wall over to the rocks that made up the riverbank, me a few moments behind her like a beanie-bedecked, anxious shadow. It was late, I was tired, my homework a constant thought in the back of my mind.

Vega was taking her dark coat off now, revealing an equally dark shift dress over a short-sleeved white shirt. She slid her headphones off now, stuffed them into the coat pocket, reached for my hand. “Come on, Quinn-Whitley!” she repeated, as if she were inviting me to a bakery - or better, an alternate universe where my essays were already written - and not to an icy river.

“Vega,” I said hesitantly, trying not to blush as she took my hand. “What - what’s going on?”

Vega’s eyes only glowed, luminous hazel, like the harvest moon at its peak.

“You don’t believe in fairy tales, do you, Emerson Quinn-Whitley?” she said, her husky voice taking on a strangely melodic quality.

“What did fairy tales do for me in the end?” I snapped, my voice surprisingly sharp. There was bitterness behind that statement, so much that my tongue could almost taste it. My once-golden dreams crumbling away when Mama left, when Papa’s hand made a claw on my shoulder. When nights reading in bed dissolved into studying in tears, screaming into my textbooks because I wasn’t good enough.

Vega’s eyes darkened, almost sadly. And then she waved her hand over the ice-frozen river and stepped in. Winked at me, held out her slender hand invitingly, and disappeared.

“VEGA!” I screamed, reaching out. But it was like she was there and gone, like she’d slipped away in a moment in time. Somehow, between blinks or heartbeats or breaths, she simply vanished.

The water still glowed where she stepped in, gold and amber and almost warm. Emerson, Emerson, Emmie! it seemed to call. My mother’s voice on the day of the first frost, Emmie, I can smell the pumpkin spice in the air! My father’s gruff baritone, grudgingly admitting Emerson, you - you did well.

And then Vega. Quinn-Whitley. Step in the goddamn portal. Live a little, Emerson.

I stepped back from the shimmering water, fear holding me back and fatigue making me question everything in front of me.

Do you believe in magic?

You don’t believe in fairytales, do you?

Soon we’ll be home, Emmie. Soon we’ll be home.

A cacophony of voices. Everyone I had ever loved, gone. All gone. Were they ghosts? Was this river a swirling cumulation of every broken dream, every shattered hope, every happy memory that faded in time like the fading of bright autumn leaves?

Soon we’ll be home.

But where was home, my home? I was Emerson Quinn-Whitley with the divorced parents, the mother who was glittering smiles and woolen cardigans and coffee left to go cold, the father who was the smell of brandy and ice-chip eyes and bear hugs that filled you up like hot cocoa. I lived at a gothic-romantic dorm with three roommates and a mountain of homework. Where was home?

I didn’t know that growing up would come and meet me. Wishing on a star, waiting for a glorious daydream to take me away into its world of glittering gowns and sequinned smiles, a world where all my worries melted away.

I crept closer to the patch of water where Vega vanished, and first it was like a mirror - my round face with its worried eyes and smattering of freckles - and then like a birds-eye view of some other place. Vega in her white shirt and black dress, trees with leaves the color of pumpkin and spice.

Behind me, a group of drunken strangers passed the river, wearing red and green and gold. I wondered what they were waiting for - a shooting star, a cab driver to take them away?

What was I waiting for? I liked to think that I’d grown away from the fairy tales that I had lived by when I was a child. But maybe everyone had to be a child sometimes.

I took a deep breath, briefly closed my eyes, and stepped in.

Soon we’ll be home.

#cece writes #soon we'll be home #short story #writing #sorta a songfic ?#please don't let this flop i love this one

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kazuharem · 4 years

Text

“Promises of Forever” ↠ Lucien x MC [SMUT]

AO3 Link: here

Pairing: Lucien x Female MC

Part I of the “Forgive and Forget” Series. This is “Forgive”

Part II: here

Warnings: Contains plots from chapter 13 and 16 -> basically the plot of Lucien’s Rainy Night Date

Description: Lucien’s POV from “Rainy Night Date” + lovemaking

Word Count: 10,660 (oops)

Genre: Angst, Smut

Summary: “When the daylight comes, I'll have to go. But tonight I'm gonna hold you so close"

Author’s Note: I started playing this game back in March, missed out on this karma, and is very bitter/frustrated by that fact. I don’t think I’ve ever fallen so hard for a 2D man, but here I am. I wrote this fic because there weren’t enough discussion about this date, which I think showcases Lucien’s true feelings. Especially when he gives the paper crane back to the MC. My horny ass just decided to throw some lovemaking into this scene. Ending is inspired by the lyrics of Maroon 5′s “Daylight.” Every line that I took from the actual date/plot will have * in front of it. I hope you guys enjoy it. ALSO LUCIEN DESERVES ALL THE HAPPINESS IN THE WORLD. I SAID MY PIECE.

⊱ ──────ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ────── ⊰

Here I am staring at your perfection In my arms, so beautiful The sky is getting bright, the stars are burning out Somebody slow it down This is way too hard 'Cause I know, when the sun comes up I will leave, this is my last glance That will soon be memory

And when the daylight comes I'll have to go But tonight I'm gonna hold you so close 'Cause in the daylight we'll be on our own But tonight I need to hold you so close Ooh whoa, ooh whoa, ooh whoa Ooh whoa, ooh whoa, ooh whoa

I never wanted to stop Because I don't wanna start all over, start all over I was afraid of the dark But now it's all that I want, all that I want, all that I want

How did it come to this, Lucien asked himself as he pressed himself to the side of her building, watching as reporters rushed at her, like piranhas after the scent of blood.

*“Producer! What’s your answer on your program’s ex-consultant’s remarks at the press conference?” One shoved a mic into her face. Lucien winced, but held himself back from going to her rescue. His appearance would only make the situation worse.

*“We heard that you and Professor Lucien are not only co-workers, but also neighbors. Anything to share about him?” Another reporter jogged next to her.

“Yeah, aren’t you two neighbors? So you must be close!” The crowd clamored around her, and Lucien clenched his fists.

*“We heard that you two are inseparable. Could you please…” The reporter’s voice asked eagerly, and her eyes squeezed shut.

He watched as her lips pressed into thin, white lines. “I’m sorry, I’m just trying to get to work. Can you please stop asking me these questions?” She finally said softly, with an undercurrent of hurt, thinly veiled, but Lucien heard her all the same. The world seemed so dreary despite the colors, and Lucien knew it was because of her mood.

The poor security guards struggled, trying to clear a path for her so she can enter the building. Kiki and Anna appeared, extending a hand towards her, and pulled her to safety within the glass doors of her company. The world faded into shades of monochrome once more and it was then that Lucien exhaled a quiet sigh of relief.

How did it come to this indeed?

It was supposed to be a simple task, a mission he could’ve accomplished with a flick of a hand. It was supposed to be easy. She was incredibly innocent and quick to trust; all he had to do was show her a little bit of kindness. And yet, Lucien found himself bewitched by her, getting his eye sliced open to prove to Black Swan that he was still on their side. That had been nothing more than a mere inconvenience for him. And yet, when the grunts had attempted to capture her, he failed to accomplish that simple of a task and instead, had let her escape. Lucien recalled the look in her eyes as she bravely held the pen-the very one he had endearingly given to her-to her neck and crimson blood leaked from her neck. That look had destroyed him. Only she was capable of such a thing. If she asked for Lucien’s heart, Lucien would’ve willingly torn it out and present it to her on a silver platter. Except for the fact, Lucien’s lips flitted into a wry smirk, he had no heart. His heart had belonged to her the moment she showed him the true brilliance of the world, the indescribable colors that had changed and wreaked havoc on everything he once knew. And Lucien had willingly allowed her to do so. Black Swan may have saved his life, but this woman, this woman who had entered his life in an explosion of colors, this woman had saved his soul. And in that sense, she had saved his life as well.

Falling in love with her wasn’t supposed to be part of the plan. Those who knew him, knew him to be ruthless, emotionally detached, and ever-so-cold. But from the moment his world exploded into a vibrant myriad of colors, he was hooked. He had found himself wanting to see her every moment of the day, a message or call from her would allow a fond smile to spring up unbidden. Lucien remembered the poisonous jealousy he had felt when he attended one of her company dinners and her coworkers had asked her who was the most important person in her life. A little drunk and giving in to the green-eyed monster, he had confronted her only for her to tell him that it was him. The relief he had felt at that moment was ridiculous, like a tsunami of emotions flooding his entire system. He remembered gritting his teeth and clenching his fists at the sight of the officer who had shyly given her that ginkgo bracelet. He remembered the utter panic he felt when he found out she was in the hospital because of a stupid trick Black Swan had attempted to pull off and later, he remembered feeling the stifling frustration when the LFG CEO had barred anyone from seeing her. And Lucien remembered trying to focus on his research but hearing the idol singer’s bright voice float through the thin walls.

“Miss Chips! I brought the newest video game! Play with me!”

He had hoped she would refuse, but to his surprise, she had readily agreed. And he had tried so hard to ignore the sounds of happy entertainment before giving up and angrily leaving his apartment. That had been the moment he had realized that, that simple, oh-so-easy plan was not so easy after all.

How? How could it have happened this way?

When did he start feeling these irritating emotions that made his chest clench so painfully?

Was it when he took her to the New Light Library to help her with materials for the show and he had blurted out, *“Will you teach me how to love?”

Or was it when he had gifted her that gardenia and they had decided to take care of it together?

Or maybe it was when he had taken her to a firefly exhibition and she had defended the poor firefly struggling weakly to survive, saying that all life should be respected?

Was it when they went to the aquarium together and he had warned her, but she had refused?

Maybe it was when he had to go to Denmark, and she had followed him, getting sick in the process but had clung so desperately to him?

Was it because she had been the only one who had cared about him, about his birthday, and worried so excessively over his happiness?

Lucien had tried so hard to push her away, but every time she would come back, worrying when he got sick, calling when he didn’t respond to her messages. He had lived his entire life knowing only the cold shades of black and white. But with her, he was able to see the glorious pastels of a rainbow after a storm, the vibrant reds of the Canadian maple forest, the cerulean blue of the sea, the brilliant golden flashes of fireworks, and the warm orange flickering of the lotus lantern they had sent down the river together. She had been the one who had turned his birthday, which had been countless anniversaries that reminded him of the tragic events from his childhood, to something he actually wanted to look forward to every year.

He didn’t know the answers to these questions, but when Hades had tried to capture her for his foolish RESET plan on the day of his press conference, Lucien realized that for the first time in his life, he felt fear. Fear of losing her. Fear of her being in pain. Fear that someone saw the dazzling purity of hers and tried to use it for dark and polluted gains. For the first time in his life, Lucien had something to lose. Something so infinitely precious to him that it was more important than his own life. And yet, this woman had been hurt by his own hand.

Pain was not a foreign concept to Lucien. Being in Black Swan, it was readily available. He had utilized it upon his enemies, upon those who had cast doubt on him, and upon himself. But none of it could compare to the pain he had felt all those sleepless nights hearing the broken sobs of the woman he had hurt so deeply. For the first time, Lucien truly understood what a deadly weapon pain could be.

And now…

Lucien looked at the still clamoring crowd of reporters lurking around the entrance of her building and clenched his fists. Because of him, her life was upturned once more.

He had been keeping a close eye on her after he brought her from Hades’ dreamworld, fearing that Hades would discover the way out and go after her again. His hunches were right after discovering Hades’ minions lurking about her apartment community. He had disposed of them quietly, of course, but the reporters were a different story. Lucien knew she had been working late nights just to avoid the reporters.

Which was why Lucien was now sitting in his car, in the parking lot of her building, waiting for her to get off work.

Fool, a voice whispered inside his head, but he ignored it. He was currently the only one who could possibly protect her. As jealous as he had been with Gavin, Victor, and Kiro, he appreciated the fact that all three of them had protected her. But now, Gavin had gone somewhere, Victor’s whereabouts were unknown and couldn’t be reached, and he didn’t know what Helios was planning after abandoning his image as Kiro.

The dull gray lights suddenly morphed into a muted yellow and Lucien looked up. She had appeared at last.

He got out of the car silently and walked towards her. She checked her phone and let out an exhausted sigh, rotating her shoulders.

Show no emotion, Lucien reminded himself. He grabbed her arm and pushed her into his car before she even had a chance to react.

“AH!” She exclaimed in surprise, preparing herself to fight.

*“It’s me,” Lucien spoke softly to prevent her from struggling. She froze the moment she heard his voice and turned, wide-eyed, to look at him. Lucien forced himself to look straight ahead. “Fasten your seatbelt,” he commanded quietly, before starting the car.

She gritted her teeth, *“Why do I have to go with you? Where are you taking me?” She demanded.

Lucien clenched the steering wheel. Hearing her voice-albeit angry-reminded him that she was alive and breathing. And sitting next to him. *“To your place,” he answered her question passively, trying not to give light to the murky emotions that swirled within him.

She fell silent and he drove on. The way home never seemed so long, and the traffic lights were not helping, stopping them at every intersection. But Lucien was secretly glad; the longer he spent with her, the more content he felt. Even though she was still angry at him, Lucien cherished the time spent with her.

He could sense her eyes watching him, questions as clear as day on her face. When he couldn’t take the stare any longer, he met her gaze through the mirror. As if struck by a live wire, she immediately dropped her eyes. Lucien noticed how her fingers clenched white against the seatbelt and he gripped the steering wheel to prevent himself from doing something he shouldn’t (like grabbing her hand and smoothing out her tension). He hated himself for causing these reactions in her.

*“I came out to tell you not to go out for a while, unless you have to,” Lucien broke the silence quietly, his voice slightly hoarse. The reporters should stop bothering her after a few days.

Her eyes flitted to him in surprise, *“But I need to go to work! Don’t worry, I won’t tell the reporters anything,” she added hastily.

Silly girl, he mused silently, you misinterpret my intentions yet again.

*“Do you think I came all this way just because I was worried you might blab to the reporters?” Lucien asked aloud, pressing his lips together thinly.

She lowered her eyes, ashamed, and they fell in silence once more.

Nothing more than acquaintances, Lucien thought to himself bitterly. There used to never be awkward gaps of silence between them, but now silence permeated every possible space between them. She was only sitting next to him, but she felt oceans away. It was clear that she felt uncomfortable, with the way she was twisting her body away from him. And it was all his fault, Lucien supposed, getting stopped by a traffic light yet again. Her finding out who he was, however, was inevitable. And in that sense, Lucien thought that she should know earlier before she had completely given her heart to him. That way, she could still keep a bit of herself intact.

After stopping at the last traffic light before her apartment community, Lucien broke the silence once more, *“Anyway, don’t get caught up in any unnecessary danger,” he reminded her again.

*“You as well!” She piped up immediately and Lucien felt his heart clench.

Still worrying about me, my little fool. Worry about yourself first.

Instead, Lucien grated out a laugh, *“Who do you think can hurt me?

How ironic, Lucien sneered at himself, the only person who could ever hurt him was sitting right next to him.

They had finally reached the gate and Lucien rolled down his window so he could greet the security guard. *“Hello,” he said politely, smiling warmly.

The security guard’s eyes widened when he realized it was Lucien. *“Professor Lucien, worked late today? It’s been a while since I saw you!”

*“Yes,” Lucien replied evenly, “I’m dropping her off at home.”

*“Haha, you are still so close!” The security guard teased, and Lucien saw her look away hurriedly, fingers clenching on her seatbelt again. Lucien nodded, still smiling as he drove away. His smile faded when they had reached the entrance of her apartment building.

They had arrived at last. It was time to say goodbye once again.

Lucien reminded her again without looking at her, *“Keep in mind everything I have told you tonight.”

She huffed at him, *“I know what I’m doing,” and opened the door in her haste.

Lucien reached over and she stiffened immediately. She tried to push him away, but Lucien held her wrists.

*“Let go of me!” She glared fiercely at him and Lucien’s chest tightened in response.

*“Are you that afraid of me?” Lucien whispered. She stopped struggling at those words and stilled. It was then that he realized belatedly that he had said his thoughts aloud. Lucien looked away, unfastened her seatbelt, and leaned away from her when he was done. *“You forgot to unfasten your seatbelt,” he informed her quietly, internally struggling to keep his emotions down.

*“…Thanks,” she said grudgingly and got out of the car. She took only two steps and turned around.

*Lucien rolled down the car window slowly, “What is it? Did you forget something?”

*He couldn’t read her expression as she shook her head. “You, not me,” she exhaled and continued. “All those things you left in my apartment; I’ve packed them up. Wait here, I’ll bring them down.”

*“Are they heavy?” Lucien managed to ask. This entire scene was funny as if they were going through a breakup, but Lucien didn’t laugh, couldn’t laugh.

*“No. I can manage by myself,” she replied curtly, placing heavy emphasis on “by myself.”

Lucien pressed his lips together and watched as she walked away, away from him, just like she did the day she found out who he really was. And then again on the day of the press conference.

Did my little butterfly already fly away?

He had no time to linger on his thoughts, however, as he soon noticed two men in black seemingly appear from darkness and look up in the direction of her balcony. He cursed under his breath. Hades. They were probably there to observe her movements and report them to Hades. He shouldn’t be seen by them, otherwise Black Swan will know of his betrayal. And she must not come out at this moment. Scowling, Lucien pulled out his phone.

*<Rest early. Just mail it to this address.>

After sending the message, he started his car and took note of how there were two additional men in black tactical gear near the entrance of her apartment. Hmm STF, he thought to himself. Interesting. He drove off, circling behind another apartment complex as to not draw attention to himself. It was late, she should rest anyway, given how exhausted she had looked when Lucien had picked her up. And she seemed to be well protected for now. He knew Hades’ men wouldn’t try anything with STF agents around. For now, it was safer for her that he left. And he needed to figure out how to deal with Hades.

Two days later, a package arrived for him, but he had no time to open it due to all the work he had. He sent her a simple, “Thanks,” but he had gotten no response from her. Lucien had checked up on her occasionally; but after a few days, as he had guessed, the reporters stopped bothering her as the city slowly dissolved into mild panic over how the virus had developed. His worry about her safety decreased when he had noticed that she had STF agents following her, but that didn’t extinguish the longing inside of his heart.

The days slowly morphed into weeks and Lucien had been quite busy. Hades had not made things easy for him, but Lucien didn’t mind the workload. Every step he made in his progress was a step towards her happiness, her safety.

After working straight for twelve hours, he stood up and stretched. On his way to the kitchen, he accidentally kicked the box she had sent up. He looked at the box for a moment before making the decision to open it. He peeled the tape that bound the box shut and the box revealed its contents. With growing despair, Lucien glanced at the variety of books and movies that he had lent the girl. Each title brought a special memory. The last things in the box were paper cranes strung up in long lines, cushioning the books and DVDs. He touched the cranes tenderly, smiling as he recalled the day she had taught him how to fold these cranes. He had pretended to be bad at the task, causing her to huff at him.

*"Seriously, are you pretending not to know how?” The girl frowned at him as she watched his fingers fumble with the piece of paper.

*"No one has ever taught me this before,” Lucien admitted sheepishly.

She straightened her shoulders proudly, *"Well, better late than never! This teacher has full confidence in your talent!”

Lucien smiled at her confidence. *"In that case, I will await your instructions.”

Under her careful tutelage, they had made many paper cranes that afternoon. *Lucien fondly unfolded each of the cranes carefully, remembering that she had written a wish inside one of the paper cranes. She had whispered it while writing it down and he had overheard it, pretending he didn’t.

It was a wish about them.

*Does that wish mean nothing to her anymore?

Lucien sighed and refolded the cranes. Perhaps he should be thinking like her, letting the past dwell in the past, he mused sadly. But despite his thoughts, he found himself hanging the strings of cranes up.

*The light outside the window shone down upon the cranes and the raindrops outlined the gray and dusty memory. The pouring rain couldn’t wet these cranes, but somehow, one of them had faint blots on its wing. He reached out and gently held it in his hands. It was the crane in which she had written her wish. Lucien swallowed, trying to keep the choking emotions from surfacing.

*“I wish Lucien and I forever…”

The rest of her wish was blurred by tearstains. But Lucien knew the rest. It was the same as his. Every single time she made a wish-be it on the candles of his birthday cake, or the glowing lantern, or this simple crane-all her wishes had aligned with those of Lucien’s.

Lucien caressed the crane, *when he suddenly saw a dazzling figure in a cream-colored dress in the midst of the gray rain. His eyes widened. She had appeared like a mirage, the manifestation of his thoughts and longings.

*Lucien frowned, Silly…How did you end up here?

Without a second thought, he *grabbed an umbrella by the door and hurried out into the pouring rain. The clattering rain drowned his accelerating heartbeat.

*Lub-dub, lub-dub...

So engrossed was she in her task, that she didn’t see Lucien approaching her. He held the umbrella over her, and she looked up in surprise.

*“Why have you come looking for me?” Lucien tried hard to quash the happiness in his voice. She didn’t respond and continued to stare wide-eyed at him. Lucien spoke up again, *“Why didn’t you call ahead?”

*“I…” her eyes skipped from his, *“I just want to return something, then I’ll be on my way,” she mumbled.

“What is it?” Lucien asked as he reached out to her to pull her closer under the umbrella. She shrank back, but slipped. Before he could even form thoughts, Lucien’s body reacted. He hurriedly grabbed her before she could fall and wrapped his arms around her. A sigh left his mouth that was lost in the rain as he felt her familiar warmth and smelled her comforting scent. She was safe.

In her panic, she tried to push him away, but Lucien gently took her wrists. They walked silently with the rain beating down on them. Lucien could feel her gaze on him once again. She raised her hand only to drop it back to her side. Lucien cast a glance at her, *“What is it?”

*“You’re getting wet from the rain,” she murmured as a dusty-rose colored her cheeks.

Lucien chuckled, and couldn’t help teasing her, *“Someone else also got soaked.”

Her cheeks reddened further as she looked down at her feet. She seemed to be at an internal struggle with the way she kept gripping her purse. Her eyes kept scanning around, as if looking for an exit route.

Lucien pretended not to notice and led her gently to his front door. *“Didn’t you have something to return to me? You’re leaving already? Come in,” he invited.

Stay a little longer. Please, Lucien pleaded silently.

She hesitantly walked through the door and ruffled through her purse. *“I’ll just leave this here,” she said softly, producing a DVD and setting it gently on the counter.

Lucien glanced at the title and his heart clenched. It was a film he had recommended her, and she had promised to give him a film review.

*“Wait a moment,” he managed to say, stopping her before she could leave him again. Lucien picked the disc up and came closer to her, caging her between him and the door. He kept trying to find reasons to stay with her a bit longer, just like he had done so at the end of the press conference. But this time, Lucien decided to let himself be a bit selfish. *“You still owe me something, right?”

*“Wh-what?” She stammered nervously. He saw through her purpose. She had obviously wanted to deliver the disc and leave as fast as possible.

*“A movie review,” Lucien answered, holding the disc up.

*She lowered her head guiltily, but Lucien lifted her chin, searching her eyes.

*“Or does our big-time producer not even have time to watch a movie anymore?” he asked. She didn’t answer, but he saw through her anyway. Lucien’s lips curved into a tiny smile. “This is a good piece of work,” he coaxed gently.

*“But I don’t want to take it back anymore…” she mumbled, biting her lips. Lucien saw her scan the living room and her eyes landed on the paper cranes. A wave of sadness swept across her face and she closed her eyes.

*“You can finish watching it here,” Lucien offered.

*“ …I’m running late for the last subway,” she refuted weakly.

Lucien almost laughed, “I’ll bring you home when it’s over.” He knew she wanted to end everything between them, but couldn’t bring herself to do so. Lucien decided to be the bad guy once again to save her the trouble. *“Or, do you want to keep owing me this movie review?” It was easier for him to do the dirty work.

With no room left to argue, she nodded resignedly and Lucien’s heart soared triumphantly.

He handed her a towel for her to dry off and went to set up the movie. She sat down stiffly on the couch and Lucien sat by the window.

What are you doing? Lucien chided himself as he watched raindrops glide down the window. He could feel her eyes on him again. Breaking his gaze away from the window, he turned to look at her. *“It’s starting,” he reminded her gently when the opening credits ended. She hastily turned her attention toward the screen.

Lucien watched her. He had chosen this specific piece because it served as another warning: he was not who he said he was. Throughout all their time spent together, Lucien had given her countless warnings only for her to dismiss them and run back into Lucien’s arms. And if Lucien was being honest, he didn’t want to let her go either. The longer he spent with her, the further the line between Lucien and Ares blurred, until Lucien didn’t really know who he was either. But now, he had one purpose. To keep her safe. It didn’t matter if he was Lucien or Ares. Around her, he was simply a man wanting to protect the person most important to him.

After a while, she turned to look at him again and their eyes met. Flashes of sadness, surprise, and longing ran across her eyes. Silence filled the air, but it wasn’t uncomfortable or stifling like it had been last time.

Lucien paused the film. *“Is the movie not good?” He asked softly after a while, not wanting to break the pregnant pause.

She shook her head silently. Before she could answer, however, she sneezed suddenly.

*Lucien sighed and got up, bringing her tissues. He shrugged out of his coat to cover her small shoulders. “How do you still take such poor care of yourself…?” The words left his mouth, exasperated. Embarrassed, she shuffled in her seat. Lucien brought her a cup of hot tea and she inhaled the fragrance. Her lips touched the back of his hand as he tried to cover the mouth of the mug. Electricity ran from where her lips had touched his hand and left tingles up his entire arm. “Always in such a rush…” he said fondly. “It’s still hot, wait a bit before drinking it.” He was unable to keep the affection out of his voice.

She stiffened and Lucien knew she heard the tenderness of his words. He berated himself. “Why are you being gentle to me again?” She whispered brokenly, squeezing her eyes shut.

There was no going back now.

*“A very interesting question,” Lucien finally responded, “But, before answering you, I also want to clear something up.” He moved slowly until he was sitting next to her on the couch. Ignoring how she curled into herself as he approached, he asked the question he wanted to know from the very beginning. “Each time I push you away, why do you keep coming back to me?” Lucien felt the tiny flutter of hope within his chest.

Could it be?

She didn’t answer, but Lucien dared himself to hope. And for the first time, he felt he wanted to bare his soul to her.

*He leaned in closer to her when suddenly the paper cranes broke from the ceiling and landed around them. Slowly, he found the crane that contained her precious wish and pushed it into her hands. “That’s my answer,” he said finally. He let her see him for who he truly was for the first time. He continued, “But the process of achieving this takes time and patience.”

And there it was. His heart and soul and all the feelings it contained for the woman in his arms were all laid out in front of her.

There was a small gasp before she dissolved into tears.

*“Liar… You said you didn’t see it,” she accused him tearfully, hand holding onto the crane.

Lucien pulled her gently into his lap as he enveloped her in his arms, his heart finally feeling full after a long while. She clung to him just as tightly, her arms encircling his neck. “Silly… *Do I need to peek to know what you’re thinking?” He whispered against her hair.

*He pressed his lips against her neck, a silent promise of his answer to her question. He wanted to be selfish for once.

She tugged at his tie, lifting his head and she leaned in. “Kiss me properly, Lucien,” her soft breath brushed against his lips.

Lucien acquiesced. Their lips met, soft like the fluttering of a butterfly’s wings. He tasted the salt of her tears, but the sweet nectar of her lips overpowered everything. Lucien was hopelessly and irrevocably addicted.

They broke apart slowly, breaths still mingling. *Lucien held up his hands, just like he had when he accompanied her on her quest to find the truth. *“This represents two choices,” he began softly, gazing into her eyes. “The right is to finish what you came here to do. To return the disc and leave, ending everything between us. The left is to pursue the path you want. To act upon these emotions between the two of us, but the path ahead is unknown. It could be dangerous. Even I don’t know what lies ahead.” He offered her a choice; whatever she decides, Lucien would be willing to go along with it.

*Without hesitation, she placed her hand in his left hand just like she had back then. She looked defiantly at him, eyes shining with confidence. “I choose this. I will not run away.”

*“And if this choice brings you harm and turns your life upside down? You’d still choose it?” Lucien repeated the words he had spoken to her long ago.

*“Yes, I most certainly do,” she answered, leaving no room for argument. A warmth in Lucien’s heart blossomed and swelled. This woman! She came into his life in a whirlwind of color and always acted differently from Lucien’s every expectations. Lucien had never met anyone like her, and he knew that he never will. She was the only one.

*Lucien laughed and closed his left hand, clasping their hands together tightly. “I understand your choice.”

For tonight, Lucien decided to let himself pretend that the woman in his arms belonged to him and only him. That there wasn’t anything or anyone against them. That she wasn’t in any danger. That there was no Black Swan, no plot to overturn the world, no viruses, no pain, and no fear. That they were the only ones in this world and the only thing that mattered. That they were simply a man and a woman in love. And Lucien decided it was time to put his thinking and all his worries on hold. It was time to finally give in to the emotions that had been slowly consuming him. For once, it was time to let his heart lead instead of his head.

He leaned in to taste her sweet lips again, licking at the seam. He was granted access as her fingers danced along his collar to pull him closer to her. “Lucien…” the sound of his name on her lips spurred him on, igniting a fire that blazed in his stomach. He traced the inside of her lip with his tongue and was rewarded with a soft moan.

Her fingers worked nimbly on his tie and deftly unbuttoned his shirt as he mapped the crevasses of her mouth with his tongue. She moved to straddle him and he ran his hands down her body until he reached her thighs, where he gripped them to wrap them around his waist. Cupping his chin, she pressed herself to him, lips moving desperately against his.

Just for tonight, Lucien promised himself as he reached up to her face, brushing her hair back softly, just for one night.

He ran his fingers through her hair as he assaulted her mouth, biting, sucking everywhere he could reach. She finished unbuttoning his shirt and slipped her hands inside. Lucien shuddered at her touch, her fingers tracing fire and leaving sparks across his chest. He pulled away to stare at her. “I think I’m at a disadvantage here,” he pretended to frown.

Her laughter was infectious as it rang through the air. “Then you should catch up,” she quipped, bright eyes sparkling with mirth, cheeks ablaze with pink. She looked so beautiful that Lucien had to literally bite down the urge to take, to claim.

“So I shall,” Lucien breathed, fingers playing with the hem of her blouse. Still staring at each other, she slowly raised her arms and Lucien tantalizingly dragged the fabric over her head.

Lucien’s breath caught. She was dressed in a white lace bra that cupped her breasts enchantingly. A pink flush crept up her body and Lucien’s gaze changed. She shyly averted her gaze when she noticed how dark Lucien’s pupils had become. Lucien reached for her, crashing his lips against hers. “Mm!” She gasped against his unrelenting mouth. Lucien picked her up and stood up, causing her to squeak out a surprised, “Lucien!”

“As much as I’d like to have you right here, I think I’d prefer to have you on my bed,” Lucien’s voice was low, hungry. “Also people might see and the idea of sharing you is not particularly appealing to me.” He walked purposefully towards his bedroom; her legs wrapped tightly around his waist. Despite his heated words, he took care to set her down gently on the bed, removing her skirt when he did so. He knelt on the bed to kiss her again, hands making quick work of her bra, and leaned back on his feet to look at her.

She swallowed hard when she met Lucien's heated gaze as he cupped her breasts. A small moan bubbled from her throat. Lucien watched, enraptured, as she closed her eyes and arched into his hands. His thumbs flicked over her nipples and he squeezed them gently, causing her to gasp softly. Beautiful. He was utterly captivated by this amazing woman in front of him. He bent down to suckle at her collarbone as he rolled her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, nipping her skin when he felt her nipples harden. He ran a hand down her stomach and teased a finger along the band of her panties, smiling against her neck when he heard a sharp intake of breath. Pressing a soft kiss against her neck, he let his lips travel upward and lightly nipped at her ear.

“Mm,” she leaned into him, “Lucien…” she sighed his name, setting his heart and body aflame.

“Yes…” Lucien whispered as he leaned down to devour her lips, “Keep calling me, I want to hear you.” He kissed her deeply as he cupped one of her breasts, his other hand pressing her closer to him. He sucked at her collarbone and a scarlet rose blossomed beautifully.

“Lucien…” she moaned, arching as she pushed herself into Lucien’s warm hand. The sweet sound sent fire coursing through Lucien’s veins.

“Yes, beautiful girl…Just like that…” Lucien sighed as her hands pulled his neck down in an attempt to be closer to him. She leaned back on her elbows to look up at him and Lucien gazed at the sight from the foot of the bed, awed. Half-naked, hair mussed, lips swollen, she was truly a sight to behold.

They stared at each other, heated gazes meeting, acutely aware of what was going to happen, what they were about to do.

She bit on her lip as he shed his shirt and made his way back to her. They met in a fiery kiss with Lucien nipping at her lower lip. She moaned in his mouth and he swallowed her sound. Her sweet noises of pleasure were for him and him alone. He moved down to her neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the heated skin and felt her swallow.

He nipped at her collarbone and kissed a path through the valley of her breasts. He kept his gaze on her as her breath hitched as he slowly moved his hands up her waist, making her moan breathily. “Beautiful,” he whispered, his breath sending a cool puff of air across the trail of saliva he had created and she shivered. She held her breath as Lucien descended on her breast, his violet eyes never leaving her face. Lucien took her nipple into his mouth, making her moan sweetly. He swirled his tongue around the nub, making a satisfied hum when it instantly hardened at the stimulation. He brought his hand up to tend to her other breast. She moaned lowly, arching her back, her hands landing in Lucien’s hair. He bit down and felt her fingers tighten in his hair, earning her a hiss of pleasure from Lucien. “Beautiful,” he proclaimed, letting go of her breast. He trailed his tongue down to her stomach, to her belly button and pressed another soft kiss there. Lucien traveled further down, making her breath hitch in her throat.

She swallowed hard, her breath quickly becoming short and staggered. She had never felt like this before. The way Lucien looked at her and touched her, worshipped her. He made her feel beautiful, made her feel like a goddess. He never had been one to be shy with his affections. But this. Even though she could never guess what Lucien was thinking, she felt his love through his touches, his kisses.

Lucien traced the band of her panties with his tongue. He kissed the apex where her thighs met through the lace material of her panties and felt her shudder. Smiling, he closed his teeth on the band and very slowly, gently, he tugged. “Lift yourself for me,” he breathed, sending puffs of warm air across her skin, which raised goosebumps instantly. He hooked a finger around her panties and she obliged, raising her hips so that Lucien could take the material off. Tantalizingly slow, he dragged her panties down her hips, down her thighs, down her calves, and finally over her feet. Kneeling between her legs, Lucien gazed up at her. “Beautiful,” he voiced, wonder lacing his word. Her breathing quickened as she noticed how hungry Lucien's gaze was. Slowly, he leaned down and pressed his lips to her knee, kissing a trail up to her thigh. He let his tongue trace over the skin of her inner thigh, his hand sliding up to do the same to her other leg. She trembled, needing his touch, she was so aroused. Tentatively, he kissed closer to her slick heat. Meeting her gaze, he slowly licked a stripe over the most sensitive part of her. He watched as she arched off the bed with a breathy moan, hands grasping at the bedsheets.

“Lucien…”

“Delicious,” Lucien murmured, his mouth on her, sending a wave of pleasant vibrations. He committed all of her actions and reactions to memory. Lucien loved the way she reacted to the simplest of touches. He loved the way she moaned his name, perfect lips parting in breathless pants. He loved the way she trembled. He loved every little sound that came out of her mouth. Wanting more, he lapped gently at her heat.

“Lucien-“ his name on her lips was a shaky moan.

Smiling, he let his tongue trace lazy circles around her sensitive nub, making her whimper with pleasure. He didn’t tear his eyes from her face as he sucked on her folds, tongue picking up her sweet juices. Her breathing was starting to become short pants and Lucien slid his tongue inside her. She keened at the sensation, fingers tightening around the bedsheets. Lucien started to pick up his speed, licking more roughly, sucking harder.

“Lucien…. oh…. ah…mmm….” she cried as her eyes closed at the sensations, head lolling back. Every sound she made sent fiery waves through Lucien’s veins. He increased his speed, tongue going further, harder. She was close, Lucien could feel it in the way her legs tightened, her toes curled, and the way she clutched at the sheets. “Lucien-please…” She pleaded, and Lucien doubled his efforts. Her moans were getting louder as his name left her lips in breathless pants.

“It’s alright, beautiful girl. You can release,” Lucien coaxed, pressing his tongue on that sensitive little bud. “Let go.”

With a choked moan, she came apart, back arching and her thighs tightened around his head, toes curled in pleasure. Lucien admired the way her stomach muscles contracted and her breasts bouncing slightly and quickly committed the sight to memory. He didn’t want to miss a single detail. She was breathtaking in her pleasure, pleasure that Lucien had given her, and Lucien didn’t think he had seen a more beautiful sight. Without any hesitation, he slid two fingers into her and put his mouth back on her, making her whimper. Allowing her absolutely no time to come down from her high, he began working his fingers and mouth. Fingers curling inside of her to find her sweet spot and he grinned in triumph as she mewled loudly, muscles involuntarily clenching around his fingers. “Please…” the cracked whimper sent fire straight through Lucien’s body and he growled softly, increasing his efforts to make her fall apart again. “Luci-Lucien…I Oh!” Indiscernible sounds made their way out of her parted lips.

"Come for me once again, butterfly," Lucien whispered, fixated on her as she threw her head back, mouth open with silent cries. "Come for me," he coaxed, fingers moving more urgently as he worked his tongue.

"Lucien-I... I'm...Oh... Lucien please!"

"Yes, come for me..." Lucien urged, followed by a soft nip of her sensitive bud as he curled his fingers inside her. With a shuddering moan, his woman fell apart beautifully once again as Lucien watched in rapture. The undulations of her body as she trembled before him from the full force of her orgasm. So tantalizing. So beautiful. Lucien didn't think he had ever been this aroused before. He pressed his mouth against her heat, tasting her tangy nectar as she shuddered around him. Withdrawing his fingers from her, he leaned back onto his knees, and while gazing down at his beautiful girl, he slowly ran his tongue over his slick fingers. She swallowed hard as a bright pink flush painted her cheeks when he popped his fingers into his mouth, sucking hard to clean them. She gazed back at him, chest heaving as her breasts bounced lightly from her exertion, looking like the prettiest picture of perfection. Lucien felt a sense of pride in his beautiful masterpiece.

"Lucien..." she struggled to catch her breath as she weakly sat up. He leaned down and pressed a heated kiss against her parted lips. She moaned into his mouth when she tasted herself on his tongue.

“I’m not done with you just yet, butterfly,” he whispered, catching her as she collapsed against him.

“Then you better take your pants off,” she demanded.Laughing breathlessly, Lucien leaned back to unbuckle his belt. Slowly, he unzipped his pants, eyes never leaving her face. Her hands joined his as they removed his pants and underwear together. He kicked the garments off the bed and kneeled between her legs. Slowly, Lucien palmed himself, still maintaining eye contact. He was already hard from pleasuring her and so he stroked himself roughly. “Like what you see?” Lucien’s voice was hoarse.

She eyed him, “Very much so,” And with saying that, she licked her lips.

Lucien chuckled but it died in his throat when she tentatively reached for him. He groaned when she wrapped her hands around him. She stroked him gently and Lucien swallowed thickly, throwing his head back with a low moan. Her touch was electrifying, carrying tingling sensations all over his body. Lucien whispered her name, hips gently bucking into her warm hand when he couldn't help himself. Another moan made his head tilt back once more as she caressed his tip with a soft thumb, spreading the leaking moisture all over. Lucien closed his eyes and began to lose himself in the sensations of her warm hand. He felt her lips on his throat and he shuddered when she bit down on the skin, sucking hard to make a red mark.

“Mine,” she breathed, tongue lapping against the mark.

“Yours,” Lucien replied, gazing at her with such tenderness that she felt like crying. He leaned forward and pressed her into the sheets gently, his hands coming up to frame her face as he rested his weight on his elbows. “I belong to no one else but you.”

“Lucien…” she whispered his name, tears springing to her eyes, “I love you…” Her confession was hushed, but her words pierced Lucien’s heart as well as his soul, shattering the walls he wrought up to keep out the world.

Instead of replying, Lucien kissed her fervently, putting all his emotions into the kiss. Silly girl, he mused silently, why would you love a person like me?

But that was just the kind of person she was. Doing the unexpected, the unconventional. She abided by no rules except her own. It was the thing Lucien admired most about her. And he had promised himself this one night...

And for this one night, he allowed himself to love this woman, the way she deserved to be loved.

Kissing her deeply, Lucien ran his hand down the length of her body, caressing every inch of her until he reached her dripping arousal. Dripping with need for him. And only him. That thought filled Lucien with wholly satisfaction. That he is the only one to see her, touch her, hear her, taste her like this. He slipped his fingers within her wet folds as she moaned into his mouth.

“Lucien…” she choked out his name in a breathy whine.

“What is it, butterfly? Tell me, what is it that you want?” Lucien’s voice was rough. He increased his speed and sucked at her neck.

“You…I want…you,” she moaned breathlessly as her thighs clamped around his hand.

Well, if it’s what she wants… Lucien thought he ought to deliver.

He slowly extricated his fingers from her, making her whine shamelessly at the loss of sensation. “Just a minute, butterfly,” he said hoarsely as he reached for the drawer.

Her arm came up to stop him. “No…” she panted, “I want…I need to feel you.”

The outburst made Lucien pause, his eyes widened in surprise.

She tugged at his arms, “Please, Lucien…I need you,” she implored. The way she looked at that moment should be illegal, Lucien thought to himself. Her hair was messy, her eyes were blazing with want. And Lucien would be the bad guy if he didn’t give her what she wanted.

He propped himself back onto his elbow and stroked himself urgently with his other hand. As he aligned herself at her entrance, he searched her eyes. “Are you sure?” His voice was strained, but he had to make sure she was absolutely sure about this, that it was her decision.

She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him to her. “Absolutely,” she breathed against his lips before pushing her hips to meet his. In a swift movement, Lucien entered her. For a moment, it felt like he was home. She moaned, arching to meet him as their lips crashed.

Lucien pulled back and thrust into her, trying to find the spot that had made her unravel so beautifully. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pushing him in deeper. Lucien growled, a low sound in his chest, as he adjusted his hips and was rewarded with the sweetest sound he had ever heard.

“Lucien!” She whimpered, rocking her hips to meet his thrusts, arms clenched tight around his neck.

“Keep calling me,” Lucien panted, speed increasing as their passion built. “I need to hear you.”

“Lucien…Lucien…” His name was a chant on her lips like it was the only thing she knew how to say. She was so tight and so perfect around Lucien as if made for him and him alone. Doubling his effort, Lucien pressed his thumb against her sensitive bud. “Lucien!” Her nails dug into his back and Lucien relished in the sweet pain, thrusting harder. He knew she was close with the way her thighs clamped around his waist and the way her walls tightened around him.

“Come for me,” Lucien commanded breathlessly, thrusting relentlessly into her, his thumb circling her nub. “Come for me, beautiful girl, I want to see you undone.”

One more thrust, and she exploded as waves of pleasure washed over. She tightened around Lucien and a choked gasp fell from his lips. Breathless and quivering with pleasure, she sank into the mattress, still clinging tightly to Lucien.

Lucien knew that in that moment, if the world ended right then and there, he wouldn’t have cared. He paused slightly to press his forehead against hers before continuing to thrust into her, his movements getting more urgent. She shakily cupped his face as she slotted her lips against his, silently urging him to chase his own pleasure. Lucien didn’t need any more heeding as his hips jerked frantically. His brows knit in concentration and his lips parted with effort. Lucien grunted as he felt her tightening around him once again.

“Lucien…Lucien…” she blabbered against his lips, entirely incomprehensible.

Lucien swallowed her every pant, every moan as he reached between her legs once more. He wanted to see her in the throes of passion as he came.

“I love you,” she panted, “I love you.”

It was those words that made Lucien utterly fall apart. He tensed as his hips stuttered to a stop, spilling heat within her. His body shuddered from pure bliss as he slumped into her arms, breathing harshly against her lips. Stars erupted behind his closed eyes, the most brilliant and vibrant flashes of gold danced in his vision. His actions coaxed another release for her as she climaxed around him. The feeling was indescribable, and Lucien thought that if he were to leave this world, he'd absolutely have no regrets.

Trembling, she fell back against the bed, pulling Lucien down with her. He took great care not to crush her and laid down on his side, his arms encircling her waist. Their pants mingling together until they weren't sure who was exhaling and who was inhaling. They gazed at each other, still breathless, still connected. He could hear both of their hearts beating in time, synchronized thudding to a beat that was unique to only them. Lucien had never felt more complete. He reached out to brush a strand of hair from her eyes.

“Lucien, I love you,” she breathed, staring deep into Lucien’s eyes.

He leaned in to kiss her, lips conveying the words of his heart, the words he was unable to speak out.

I love you too, my little butterfly.

Moments passed, the two of them were content to lay in each other’s arms. After a little while, Lucien gently extracted himself from her, prompting a soft whine. He pressed a finger against her lips, shushing her, “Let me clean you up. I’ll be right back,” he promised.

True to his word, he came back with a towel which he used to wipe her down carefully. She opened her arms invitingly when he was done, and he obediently fell back into her arms. Shifting slightly, he maneuvered them so that she was laying on his chest and he pulled the blankets around them.

“Are you tired?” He asked gently as he stroked her hair.

She shook her head, “Can we talk?” she asked shyly, voice muffled by his chest.

Lucien smiled, “About what?”

She shuffled so she was looking into his eyes. “I…want to know…about Black Swan,” she said hesitantly. “About how and why you joined. And…about Ares…”

Lucien simply nodded, unsurprised. He knew this conversation would come up sooner or later. “Are you sure you want to have this conversation now? It’s not exactly a happy story.”

“I want to know,” she bit her lip gently.

“Alright,” Lucien agreed without hesitation, “Where would you like to start?”

Her eyes widened in surprise, obviously not expecting Lucien to agree so easily. “How about…how you came to join Black Swan?”

Lucien’s lips pursed in thought, “Well, there’s not much to it,” he finally said. “A car accident happened when I was seven. It took away my parents and left me in critical condition. People from Black Swan found me, saved my life, and I’ve been with them ever since.”

She digested this information, “And…Ares?” she hesitantly said the name.

“Ares is the name I use within the organization,” Lucien told her gently, “I’m sure that you’ve noticed by now, that we prefer Greek god names.”

“But…” she dragged out the word slowly, “You seem like two different people when you’re…Ares and when you’re Lucien.”

Lucien sighed, “Ares is me. Lucien is also me. Ares and Lucien are one and the same.” There was a bitter tone in his voice.

She was silent for a few moments. “Maybe that’s true,” she murmured, “But I know you would never hurt me. And that includes Ares.” The last part was full of confidence.

Silly girl, Lucien sighed internally, “I did…certain things when I was Ares…Because of that, I have a certain image within Black Swan,” he started haltingly. She nodded like she understood. “I approached you as Ares pretending to be your version of the ‘Lucien’ that you know. I needed to get close to you so I could accomplish my mission. But…I failed.”

“How?” She asked him quietly.

Lucien chuckled, “What do you think? It’s all because of you, silly girl. I’m supposed to bring you to Black Swan, and I’ve had all these opportunities to do so. And yet, here you are.”

“Did you…get hurt?”

“Can you please worry about yourself for once?” Lucien tweaked her nose and sighed.

She wrinkled her nose, “I don’t need to worry about myself because I have you protecting me,” she smiled. “You said I’m an asset to you.”

“Are you always this trusting?” Lucien asked, exasperated.

*“You told me you would ensure my safety. And that you don’t engage in worthless endeavors. I thought that was because I am the Queen. But now like you said, I haven’t been taken to Black Swan, so what is it that you’re protecting me from? Why would you protect me from Black Swan when you’re a member of Black Swan?” She raised her chin, challenging him.

She had seen right through him. Lucien’s lips curved into a small smile.

His fingers traced gentle circles on her waist. “I think you already know the answer to that,” he murmured. “You should know…I never intended to lie to you, but my intentions were never good to begin with,” the last part of his sentence was a little quieter, as if Lucien were talking to himself.

“What changed?” She asked curiously.

Lucien heaved a self-deprecating sigh, “You,” he said, simple and straightforward. She looked at him, confused. Lucien cradled her face gently and smiled, “You did. You changed everything. You turned all of my plans inside out and my world upside down.”

Her brow furrowed, “Me? What do you mean?”

“You brought color into my world,” Lucien said simply, leaving her to wonder what he meant by those words. Before she could respond, he continued, “*You taught me all the beautiful things, like folding a paper crane. You showed me how beautiful a rainbow after a storm could be. *I used to not fear death, but I started fearing it only after I met you. And because of you, I want to live.”

Her eyes turned watery, “Lucien…”

“What?” he sighed, brushing his thumbs on her cheeks, “Why are you crying, silly girl? It’s all true.”

She sniffled, “I’m not crying,” she said hastily.

“Alright,” Lucien chuckled, pulling her closer and placing a chaste kiss on her lips. “You should sleep, it’s late.”

She pulled back to gaze into his eyes. “You’re going to hypnotize me, aren’t you?” Seeing his startled expression, she smiled wryly, “You were never this open with me before, something must be up.”

“Do you regret it? Your decision?” Lucien asked instead.

“Of course not,” she replied firmly, “I’m just glad that precious memories like these exist. And you can protect these precious and happy memories for us.”

“I know you made your choice,” Lucien started hesitantly but she shook her head at him.

“Lucien, I made my choice, but you must have your reasons. I’m choosing to believe that your reasons must have something to do with protecting me. And if it’s because of that, then I’ll allow you to do so. I respect your decision and your choices, just like you did with mine. And right now, I’m happy just to be able to be in your arms like this,” she gazed deeply into his violet eyes. “Being able to create these memories with you is enough for me. I shouldn’t be any more greedy and wish that I can cling onto these memories as well.”

Lucien’s breath caught in his throat. “Do you trust me?” His voice was low, full of unspoken emotion.

She nodded without hesitation. “I do. And I trust that you will come back to me.”

Lucien swallowed hard. “Then I will cherish and protect these beautiful memories,” he vowed hoarsely.

She beamed, and it was still the single-most bright and dazzling thing Lucien had ever seen. “Good.”

“Aren’t you afraid of me? And…the dark part of me?” Lucien finally voiced his worries.

“Lucien,” she smiled, wrapping her arms around his neck, “Just like you said, Ares is you. But it is only a part of you. Ares is not completely Lucien, nor is Lucien completely Ares. Everyone has a dark side, why should you be any different? I love and accept all of you, including Ares. I’m not afraid because of that. We may have different viewpoints and we might disagree with one another, but I’m not afraid of you. I was afraid, however, that all these memories we created together meant nothing to you. That they were all just part of the plan. I was afraid that your feelings weren't real. But now, I know how you truly feel about me and my fears couldn't be further from the truth. Your dark side is only a small part of you, but I love the whole you. As long as you’re Lucien or the part that is ‘Lucien’ exists, I will love you. And you already said earlier,” she touched the mark she had made earlier on his neck. “You’re mine.”

“Yours,” Lucien promised, voice thick with raw emotion. His heart swelled. He didn’t think he could love this woman any more than he already did, but she had proven him wrong. Again.

She smiled with satisfaction and leaned in, “I love you, Lucien,” she breathed across Lucien's lips, setting Lucien’s heart aflame.

He was going to do everything in his power to keep her safe. To return to her. So that the next time, they meet, they can love each other openly without fear. And that was a promise Lucien fully intended to keep.

“Wait for me,” he murmured, pressing his forehead against hers.

“I will,” she replied steadily.

There was a sigh of relief and Lucien tucked her under his chin, holding her close. “Sleep,” he commanded quietly, “It’s late.” He pressed his lips tenderly against her forehead, thumbs rubbing soothing circles into her back.

It was amazing how comfortable Lucien felt with her body against his, lying in his arms. He had not been this relaxed in a long time. She made him feel whole, as if she completed the missing part of his heart.

And maybe you are, Lucien thought to himself, smiling as he occasionally pressed kisses to her temple, the person at the end of my red string. My little butterfly.

When she had finally fallen asleep, Lucien looked at the slowly brightening sky. His heart tightened. He wanted to freeze this moment forever. The pink-tinged sky didn’t grant his request and instead brilliant hues of orange and red started spreading across the sky, as if taunting him. He didn’t have long before they had to part. Slowly, Lucien eased away from the sleeping girl. He put on the clothes strewn around his room and tenderly dressed her, taking great care not to wake her. He caressed the light purple mark on her collarbone and smiled sadly. It was time. He picked up the girl gently. A bright white light flashed around the room.

They reappeared inside the girl’s apartment. Lucien carried the sleeping figure to her room and tucked her in. He then took out his phone and sent a message to her phone.

He leaned forward and brushed her bangs back softly to press a soft kiss against her forehead.

“I promise you,” he whispered, “I promise we’ll go fly a kite when spring comes. I promise to celebrate all my birthdays with you. I promise to ensure your safety. I promise I will always come back to you. I promise that we’ll be together. I promise that I belong to you, and to only you.” He repeated all the promises he made her. “Wait for me, butterfly.” He hooked their pinkies together and kissed their linked fingers softly. “I promise.”

He then placed a tender, final kiss against her lips and breathed out the words that had been hidden under his heart for so long. “I love you.”

Lucien stood up and walked to the door silently, before turning around to take one last look at her. She was sleeping soundly. The gentle sun of the early morning cast a soft pink over her, a beautiful but cruel reminder that told Lucien he was out of time. The night he had promised himself had come to an end and now it was morning. It was time for him to go.

He had set a glass of water, along with two painkillers on her bedside table. There was also a paper crane standing guard. It was the one with her wish.

*“I wish Lucien and I forever…”

Underneath her wish, Lucien had added a set of words. Another promise.

*“For every forever that you wished for, I’ll be there.”

⊱ ──────ஓ๑♡๑ஓ ────── ⊰

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anxiouslymalicious · 4 years

Text

Losers Club Plus One Part 9

A Richie Tozier x daughter!reader series.

Read the previous part here or go here for the full masterlist!

A/N: Hi! As always, I want to apologise for being shit at updating but a lot is happening at the moment and I’m hella stressed out and hella depressed and hella anxious but that’s okay.

This is about 3.5k words and the usual warnings apply. I hope you enjoy!

Y/N didn’t question what Richie was doing. She didn’t feel she had the power to. So, instead, she tried to muster up the most confused expression she felt capable of. Richie, almost maniacally, pulled her back outside to the car and made her sit down in the front seat. He finally noticed her looking on, in a stupor, not moving. Her face looked almost blank, only a hint of wonder lightening it up.

“I- I can’t. I can’t just leave them here. We can’t leave them here. We are Losers and Losers stick together.” Richie told his daughter, gently cupping her cheek. He was hoping for some kind of reaction but, upon receiving none, let a watery breath escape his lips. He felt tears stinging in his eyes yet again, before adding another whispered explanation.

“Stan wouldn’t want this. He wouldn’t want me or you leaving our friends behind. He wouldn’t want me leaving Eddie behind.”

With that, she nodded a little, facial expression still unphased. Richie shot Ben a quick text, letting him know that he and the little Tozier would meet them at the library, that they had gone out for a quick smoke or whatever. Given that he and Bev started smoking like a chimney at a younger age than her, he thought the excuse sounded pretty believable.

Impatiently, he drove through the town. Richie’s fingers were restless against the cold leather of the steering wheel. He tried to distract himself, tried desperately to recognise the buildings around him, the streets and faces, something he could hold on to. Richie felt like his life was slipping through his own hands like sand, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t hold it together.

Richie’s eyebrows were furrowed, face growing a grim expression and his jaw started clenching, all going unnoticed by himself.

What didn’t go unnoticed by Richie, though, was his presumed daughter’s hand on his wrist. He spared her a little glance which was all it took for Richie to step off the gas a little and lean back in his seat. He was still nervous, but the reassurance and worry in the big, familiar eyes of his daughter calmed him a little. Richie knew she didn’t hate him. He could read it in her eyes.

And he was right. Despite everything, she couldn’t hate Richie. He made a mistake, yes, but there were more important matters at hand right now. Besides, Richie didn’t love her any less, right? She could still pretend everything was alright. They could go back home once all of this was over and pretend it never happened. But, of course, it had happened and couldn’t be undone. The thought of Richie not truly being her father weighed heavily on her chest and would continue to do so until she knew for certain. And she feared whatever a stupid little test might say. Because, no matter what, their relationship wouldn’t be the same. Y/N felt like something had been taken from her, as stupid as it sounded. Because Richie was right beside her, it was just like she couldn’t look at him like she did before.

The town was slowly growing colder to the girl. Not weather-wise, no. She felt that Derry didn’t care about them. She felt that no one in that town would notice if they needed help. She felt that the town wouldn’t care if each of the Losers died, stiff bodies recovered later that day, not even a lousy newspaper article would be written about the bodies. And it terrified her.

“Dad?” Y/N whispered, voice breaking as she swallowed the lump in her throat. She felt the tiny hairs on her arms stand up straight, embracing herself. Richie, a little surprised to hear her call him that, tried to look at her as he was navigating the car through the streets. Quick glances were casted her way until he finally had the chance to properly look at her as they reached a red traffic light.

“Yeah, kiddo?” Richie now asked. His lips were parted as he didn’t know what to expect, brows furrowed in confusion, but also a little curiosity.

“We’ll be alright… Right?” Y/N asked, raw fear very prominent in her voice. She looked at Richie with the eyes of the child she used to be. Many situations popped into Richie’s head. Moments when she had been terrified, almost petrified by the pure horror crawling under her skin, as she had asked the same question. He had always had an answer. And he had always been right. Because that was easy. Like when he saw the little girl with her pigtails (braided by Richie himself) in the doorway of her classroom on her very first day of school. She had been incredibly intimidated by the other students, but he told her that she would be alright if only she went in there with an open mind and a friendly face. She did. Richie was right.

Or the time she was scared of giving a presentation in middle school that her teachers would base a lot of her grade on. She was crying at her desk, little cards with notes carefully written out were strewn mindlessly around the table as her panicked eyes were directed to her laptop, presentation opened. She was scared of failing her class. Richie told her that there was nothing to be scared of. Failing a class wasn’t the end of the world, he had failed more classes than he could count himself. He told her that she was incredibly bright, told her to keep him in her mind and she would ace that presentation. She did. Richie was right.

Or the time Richie had to undergo surgery after miraculously breaking his nose. He had never told his daughter how exactly it happened, but she had called a taxi to drive them to the hospital where Richie was quick to be put under medication and have a surgery scheduled. She was standing by his side in tears, broken heart beating painfully in her chest as she watched her father grow loopy. Richie had enough of a straight mind to lay his wired-up hand on her cheek and give her the most reassuring smile he could. She was scared that Richie wouldn’t come back to her, that he would fall asleep and never wake up again. Richie’s smile faltered a little as his mind reminded him that there could be serious consequences to a surgery, but he was quick to shake that thought off. He told her that it was just a quick fix of his beauty. Told her that she should follow the nurses, they would be taking care of her, and after a bit of time he would be as good as new. He told her that all she needed was a little faith and patience, and trust. He told her that he wouldn’t ever leave her to fight for herself like that. He wouldn’t leave her alone. She did. And Richie was right.

But now was different. This was bigger than a surgery, a broken heart, a presentation or a first day of school. This was much bigger. And now, Richie was the one to be terrified, skin prickling with fear, cold sweat on the back of his neck, with no answer on his mind.

“Yes,” he rung out, “If you believe that we will be.”

With that, the car grew silent again, the only exception being the Beatles, singing for Help. A bitter smile grew on Richie’s lips as he remembered the flyer for ‘Richie Tozier’s All Dead Rock Show’.

“There must be some kind of way out of here…” mumbled the man to himself, shuddering as he thought about his encounter with the clown.

Despite his talk with his daughter, despite her telling him that it was okay for him to feel love for men, Richie still wasn’t sure. It was still one of the easiest ways to hurt Richie. But he couldn’t deny that it hadn’t been as bad as it could have been. The thought that Y/N would support him, regardless of who he loved, comforted him immensely. It was easier for him to make the clown piss off.

“Said the joker to the thief.” Y/N continued, turning the bitter smile into a genuine. A huffed breath escaped Richie, a cruel, self-deprecating joke on his lips, as he was about to reply, but swallowed it down instead as the old library building came into view. He felt the tips of his fingers go numb as he thought of the story Ben had told them of his first encounter with IT.

Slowly, painfully so, did the car roll closer to the building before coming to a gentle halt as Richie gracefully parked the expensive car. Y/N didn’t waste a minute and got out of the car the second the car stood securely, marching up the stairs to the heavy front door of the old building. She thought that Richie would take ages to muster up his courage again, which was why she sought the peaceful distance, but to her utter surprise, Richie was fast on his feet, almost eager to go to Mike, the man who hadn’t got a clue of any of the shit that was going on. Blissfully unaware somewhere in that building, hiding away between the thick books. He was probably happily reading through his notes on the history of Derry, the unawareness a constant companion. Or so Richie thought. Because, in truth, Mike was fighting for his life with a man he didn’t think he’d ever encounter again. Especially not in such a cruel way.

Richie, surprisingly, didn’t enter the library with a bang. Something held him back. It was like something was trying to quieten him, to make his and his daughter’s presence unknown to whoever or whatever else was in the building with them.

Y/N felt cold as she watched the eerily quiet library.

“Is Mike late or-“ she started, but didn’t get to finish her sentence for Richie shushed her, not letting her utter another sound. At first, just for a few seconds, she didn’t understand, an uncomfortable coil tied up in her chest. That was, until she saw the pure focus on Richie’s face. Furrowed eyebrows, tongue poking out just a little between his lips as he strained his old ears, hoping to pick up the faint sounds yet again.

And suddenly, she did too. The grunts were quiet, almost not audible if they had as much as walked through the library, searching the bookshelves. It seemed that even the lightest breeze could have drowned the sounds out, but once they heard them, they were there. And neither of the pair had any kind of doubt. Someone was struggling. Badly.

“Stay here.” Richie grumbled out before falling into a sprint. As quickly as he could, he moved up the stairs, hoping for the grunts to grow louder, to grow more present, but most importantly, he was hoping that they wouldn’t stop.

A glint of light caught Richie’s eye. A glass case was attached to one of the dark walls. An axe to be used in case of emergency, as the sign told him. Presumably, in case of a fire. The man jerked his clothed elbow against the glass, shattering it easily.

“This is an emergency after all.” Richie said to himself before turning around and running further upstairs. His lungs were burning with the effort. Something he wasn’t used to anymore. It was at that moment that he cursed his younger self for picking up that very first cigarette, the thing of all evil, basically. He shook his head. No time for thoughts of that sort.

It wasn’t until he reached the top of the stairs that the grunts and screams finally seemed close. And they were. Behind the door, Richie was met with the back of someone kneeling above his friend. Things weren’t looking good for Mikey. Richie didn’t even feel as though he was the one acting in that moment. He liked to think that it was some weird out-of-body experience, controlled by the pure adrenaline pumping through his veins, fueling his body.

Y/N had been hot on his trail, running just after him. She didn’t feel safe on her own, not even with the assurance of the mirror shard still in her pocket as a weapon. She arrived just in time to watch as her father raised the axe and rammed it into the man’s head, not a trace of hesitation in his actions. It was almost frightening to watch the lifeless body slump to the ground. Y/N almost felt like she could watch the life seep out of the man’s body with every drop of blood that left his body. Richie tried to make a joke, but was interrupted by his own body as he doubled over, emptying his stomach as a shrill scream escaped his daughter’s lips.

Y/N stumbled back, falling against the wall behind her, only to slide down to the ground. She too felt sick to the pit of her stomach, but she tried to suppress the bile from coming up. Instead, she scooted closer to the wall, instinctively curled up against the cooling surface as she watched the crimson stain the ground, the puddle growing bigger by the second.

Hands clasped together before her mouth in disbelief, she tried her best to breathe evenly, but any rational thought had left her brain. Y/N felt cold, her body shook heavily with fear clawing at her. It wasn’t until she heard a different scream, a feminine voice, that she noticed how her father was desperately trying to catch her attention, blocking her view of the body with his own body.

The other Losers filled the room, one more shocked than the other. Eddie’s face was almost as white as the gauze on his cheek when he entered the room, anxious eyes immediately analysing the situation. Until his eyes finally found the Toziers sitting on the ground, Richie desperately trying to get any kind of reaction out of Y/N, any reaction other than fear. Eddie shot Mike, who was still on the ground, a sympathetic smile before dropping to his knees by the duo.

“Hey, hey, Y/N, it’s uncle Eds. It’s alright, you’re alright.” Eddie muttered as the rest of the bunch took care of Bowers’ body and Mike, who felt as shaky as a leaf in late autumn months.

Slowly, her eyes travelled to the smaller man, the fear never leaving them, but they were moving. She was with them.

“Uncle Eds?” Richie whispered to himself as he leaned against the wall next to Y/N, letting Eddie take over for a moment. His hand stayed on her knee though, eyes intently watching their every move.

Ragged breaths escaped her pale lips.

“You’re alright. We’re all alright.” Eddie continued his soothing mantra.

“Dad- the man- he killed him-“ her gaze jumped between the two men in front of her, her instincts tried to get another look at the dead body, but Eddie wouldn’t let her, hoping that his body would fully block the view as Richie kept her body planted in place, gently but firmly, with his arm around her shoulders.

“It was self-defence. He needed to do that.”

“But- but-“ her lips quivered terribly as she looked up at Eddie, eyes huge. Her mind had a hard time understanding just what was happening, but it was slowly catching up with the situation. “I’m scared.” She finally whimpered out and with that, the dam broke and fat tears rolled down her reddened cheeks.

Eddie and Richie both embraced the girl as she broke down. The other Losers watched with sorrow, watched as the little girl broke down. Mike, who felt like he was the one at fault to put her through all of this, felt a stabbing pain in his chest as a few tears of his own managed to push past the barrier. The other Losers didn’t feel any less to blame, though. Each of them were thinking about what they could have done to protect her rather than stand by and watch as the town, but mostly IT, mercilessly tore her down, broke her spirit until nothing would be left, not even a will to survive.

Silently, Bev looked over her shoulder at Ben and Mike, both sat on the ground, who only needed the one pained expression on her face. They understood. No words needed to be spoken.

“It’s okay to be scared. But you can’t let the fear take over you. Not now. You’re stronger than that.” Eddie explained to the girl, feeling her tears against his clothes. His chin was resting on top of her head. Suddenly, a stinging sensation in his cheek made him cringe, but it was quickly replaced by his heart feeling as though someone was squeezing it tightly. Richie had nuzzled his own head against both of their heads. And with that, Eddie suddenly realised just how close he was to Richie. Arms embracing not only Y/N, but also each other, clinging to each other, Richie’s head lovingly nudging Eddie’s cheek, the closeness of their hands-

“I think I’m going to throw up.” Said Y/N, pushing out of the warming embrace, accidentally breaking the two lovers apart, as she stumbled just out the door to empty her stomach.

“Are you alright?” Ben finally asked, looking towards Mike. Richie, who was helping his friend get back to his feet, trying to put some distance between himself and Eddie. It felt so nice, embracing his daughter with the man he loved, but at the same time, it was intimidating. He still had no reassurance, nor did he have the courage to confess to Eddie how he felt.

“No, I’m not! I just fucking killed someone!” Richie replied, confused at the stupid question. Ben and Mike looked at each other carefully for a moment.

“I was talking to Mike.” He continued, earning an almost insulted glare from Richie. Y/N was coming back into the room, eyes travelling from Richie to Eddie, sadly realising the distance them. It was strange to her, watching them bicker and move closer with every ‘your mom’ joke they made, hold onto each other in moments of fear and doubt and yet move away from each other as far as possible once they realised what they had been doing all along.

“What the fuck happened to your face?” Y/N asked suddenly, voice loud and clear despite her shaking body. All eyes were on Y/N for a second before everyone’s eyes travelled to the person she was looking at. Eddie.

“Oh… uh… Bowers stabbed me.” Eddie replied, feeling not only Y/N’s eyes on him. Richie was eyeing him carefully, worry flooding him. He wasn’t there, he could have helped. But he was too busy being a coward to protect one of his closest friends, the man he admittedly liked in a romantic way.

Richie watched as Y/N stepped closer to Eddie, eyes not leaving the huge white patch on his face that had gone unnoticed as the adrenaline took hold over their bodies yet again that day. Richie bit his lip, trying to bite away the familiar stinging of tears behind his eyes. He didn’t want to cry, not there, not then.

Y/N hugged Eddie tightly. He was a little thrown off-guard, hesitating just a little before embracing her too.

“I feel like we can’t be trusted on our own. We’ll just end up hurt.” She said seriously, causing the group to chuckle a little.

Something was strange about the sound. Mike examined the group for a moment. Then, he felt his heartbeat quicken as he looked around the room and saw all the Losers, minus one.

“Where is Bill?”

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