#you people are crazy. if you knew him you’d be plotting on his murder

[catlaila]

my favorite revelation from tsc is that kevin day IS canonically attractive neil just refuses to acknowledge it

#neil only has eyes for a five foot psychotic goalkeeper and that’s it #i’d like to think neil is asked about how people make kevin edits (remind me to elaborate on this) and neil is just like #you people are crazy. if you knew him you’d be plotting on his murder #and everyone laughs like neil haha you don’t mean that (slanted look at the gangster’s son) and neil smiles and doesn’t answer #kevin yells at him and begs wymack to put him in another media training class #anyway #not the point #kevin day is hot #we need to acknowledge this #kevin day #neil josten #the sunshine court #tsc #text

[flowersandbigteeth]

Meeting your mortician necromancer

General Plot: You wake up in a strange room and meet a handsome man who has something strange to tell you. Maybe there will be a pt. 2 soon

Necromancer (Zoltan) x female reader

Word Count: 2k

💕 SFW MASTERPOST 💕

W: Domestic abuse discussion, murder/suicide discussion, sfw monster fluff with a yandere vibe, discussion of scars, almost yandere vs. yandere but not quite, some angst and heavy feelings

You shouldn’t have woken up at all. Everyone wonders what happens after death. Waking up in a comfortable master bedroom, tastefully decorated in soft blue was not what you expected. You were confident you were dead.

The last thing you remembered was staring down the barrel of a glock as your husband pointed it at your forehead. It was one of those bizarre murder suicide things that happens rarely. An otherwise happy couple from the outside with no other problems, but suddenly the husband goes batshit and kills them both. 

You’ll never know what threw Derek over the edge. If you’d read the papers, you’d know the doctors deemed him the “jealous” killer. He went crazy trying to get you more and more enmeshed and when it wasn’t working, instead of dealing with the pain of accepting the fact you were two separate individuals, he killed you both.

He couldn’t bear to not be one with you, so he took you with him in death. When the police had searched your house they’d found evidence of his obsession you’d never known existed, collections of your fingernails, spit samples, bath water. He’d had trackers all over your things, in your car, in your purse. Cameras were all over the house. 

To you, however, he’d never been anything but a devoted husband, maybe a little more anxious than most, but you’d thought your marriage was a happy one. You argued about his jealousy, but never so much you’d expect him to shoot you. 

You were processing that, wondering if it had all been a dream, when your hand drifted over your forehead. There was the slightest circle of raised skin that hadn’t been there before, not a scab or a growth, but perhaps a scar? 

Your attention was pulled away from it by a door opening and a man walking through. His appearance startled you a bit at first. He wasn’t at all ugly. One side of his face was very handsome with light gray eyes set in creamy skin, but the other half was red and mottled as if it had been burned a long time ago.

Somehow the burn scars made the unmarred side of his face more strikingly appealing. He was, if you had to be honest, very hot in the jeans and gray t-shirt he was wearing. It all kind of worked for him with his cut, looming figure and neatly cropped blue hair. That was the other odd thing. His hair, eyebrows, and eyelashes were all a bright cerulean blue, not any color you’d seen in a salon before. It sparkled and had an odd depth, with some strands lighter and some darker.  

His pretty eyebrows went up when he saw you’d awakened and he hurried over to you. 

“I’m so glad you’re awake (Y/N)!” he said. 

Your eyes narrowed on him. 

“Are you an angel?” you asked. Everything was done up and blue, gray, and white including him, and it all looked a bit heavenly as if an indie film director had designed it or something. The room was luxurious, the bedding plush and the sheets soft and obviously nice quality. The pictures on the walls were black and white photos of white doves. Pretty, delicate white curtains hung in the windows, filtering in white, glowing sunlight.

You knew your question was odd, but it just…nothing else made sense. You had to be dead. People didn’t survive point blank shots to the head. You’d heard the gun go off. You’d felt the blinding pain in your forehead and on the off chance you had survived, this wasn’t a hospital. He cocked his head and smirked at you. 

“You know…you could call me that,” he chuckled, “though I don’t know if angels can actually resurrect people from the dead.” 

Your eyes widened at his joke. It hit a bit too close to home.

“Wha…” you started. 

“My name’s Zoltan,” he said, sticking out his hand to you, “I’m uh…a mortician, actually, not an angel.” 

You shook his large hand loosely, still confused. 

“A mortician?” you asked, blinking rapidly, trying to figure out if you’d forgotten something, “h-how do you know my name?” 

He glanced away for a second as if he was wrestling with something in his mind. 

“I was your mortician,” he explained slowly, watching your eyes for comprehension, “your name and all about you has been all over the news and everything else was in your file.” 

You narrowed your eyes. 

“My mortician…” you asked, “but that’s impossible. That would mean I died…but…is this hell?”

He hurriedly shook his head at you, seeing your thoughts were going off the rails. 

“No no, you did die, but you’re not in hell,” he said, “this is my house, I brought you here after I resurrected you.” 

Your eyes got large. 

“R-resurrected…?” you asked, “you mean…like…with magic?” 

You knew magic was real. Everyone knew all about the Fairyfolk like fairies and dragons who could do magic. You just didn’t run in that crowd, so it had never affected your life. You’d married a normal human man, had normal human friends. Fairyfolk had their own side of town, their own shops they frequented. It was easy for your lives not to overlap. 

He nodded and gave you a small smile. 

“I’m a necromancer,” he said. 

You shook your head, still confused. He explained. 

“You can call me a type of demon,” he said, “despite popular culture and what the ones with horns will tell you. True demons come in many different forms. Those rosy, horned, tailed ones have a whole ‘true demon’ supremacy thing I’m not even going to bore you with. Suffice to say, my kind is much older than theirs so the idea is preposterous. I just happen to look a bit more human than others and perhaps have different affinities.”

You nodded wanly. That was all very interesting but not what you were really asking.  

“But why me? I mean…why not resurrect, you know…everyone? Wouldn’t that like…solve crime?” you asked. 

He laughed. 

“No, resurrection spells are very complicated and require sacrifices,” he explained, “you only do them for very, very important people with a lot of effort. Some try their whole life times unsuccessfully trying to bring family members and lovers back from the dead. I have a natural predisposition for such magic, but I can’t use it haphazardly. It costs part of my soul.”  

“But I’m nobody,” you said, “I still don’t get it. Why me?” 

He looked at you for a long time with longing in his eyes. 

“I just…saw you and knew I had to bring you back,” he said vaguely, “of course, the magic comes with some side effects.” 

“Side effects?” 

He looked over your body.  

“Well for one you're immortal, now,” he said, “we’d have to dissolve you in acid to kill you and even then your soul would become a formless spirit never reaching its next incarnation. You’ll never lose your memories, even if your body decays for some reason.”

Your mouth dropped open. 

“And…?” you asked. 

It concerned you he’d dropped what should have been the most worrying one first.  He cleared his throat. 

“You’re bound to me for eternity,” he said in one breath. 

“What does ‘bound’ mean?” you asked.

He looked around the room and shoved his hands in his pockets. 

“It’s not really that much if you think about it. I can find you wherever you are. I can actually hear your immortal soul singing in my head, it’s like a beacon…it’s kind of cool…If you do end up being dissolved in acid, your soul would just return to me and I could stick it in another body.” 

He smiled to himself for a second before your shocked face spurred him on. 

“Oh…and since I’ve kind of transformed you into a semi-demonic entity with essence channeled from my own soul you can only reproduce with me…our kids get immortality, too so that’s kind of cool. It’s almost like we are gods without all the weird omnipotence stuff. You get a bit of an affinity for magic, too, if we cultivate it. Think of yourself as a demon spirit, now. You’re kind of an extension of my soul, but with your own soul wound up in it…like a familiar.” 

Your mouth shut and you frowned. 

“You made me your slave?” you asked. 

His eyebrows went up and he threw up his hands. 

“No! No! Nothing like that,” he said, “of course, if I make a command you have to follow it. Your soul is all wrapped up in mine so my will overrides yours, but that’s only a consequence of the magic. I didn’t do it explicitly to enslave you, but…”

He snapped and suddenly, though he had already been very large, he was much, much larger. You tried to draw your brows in confusion, but you didn’t have brows anymore. 

Instinctively you twitched your nose as scent filled your nostrils. The room smelled like Zoltan. He had a slightly smoky scent, blended with sweet sandalwood and the fading scent of mortuary chemicals. You felt your tail wave elegantly behind you and you realized looking down at your paws that he’d turned you into a cat! A smokey cat. Tendrils of jet black smoke rose up off you in delicate whorls. 

You lifted up one paw to examine it only to find you left a little print of ash on the bedspread. 

“Don’t mind that,” he chuckled, “we can have it cleaned. Your familiar form is a projection of your soul, your element is fire apparently. Everyone has a natural element their soul drifts towards. I think if you practice you can spit flames, but the ash can’t be avoided.” 

He leaned down and patted your head and then stood, snapping again and you were back in your human shape, your legs hanging over the edge of the bed. 

“You made me into a cat!” you protested. 

He smiled. 

“Not a cat! A demon spirit in fire cat form,” he corrected. 

You rubbed your face in your hands and took a deep breath. This was a lot to take in. Suddenly something crossed your mind.

“Did my husband die?” you asked, “you didn’t resurrect him?” 

He looked a little dark. 

“Yes and why would I?” he snapped. 

You shook your head. 

“Of course not,” you agreed with a slight sigh, “I just…I needed…wanted to be sure.”

Nothing was as frightening as the betrayal of someone you truly trusted pointing a gun at you. You’d never forget that for what apparently was about to be a very long life. 

He sat down next to you and put his warm arm around you, pulling your face to look at him. 

“I want you to forget about him,” he said, “let’s act like you did die and this is a new life. You’ve been declared dead. You get to be a new person…with me,” he said. 

Your eyes narrowed at him, confused. You’d already been betrayed once by someone you trusted. How in the hell could you hope to trust Zoltan? 

“But I don’t know you…you’re a stranger,” you said, “I mean…I still don’t even understand why you did this.” 

He shrugged. 

“Details. We’re bound together. Our souls are entwined…we’re the farthest from strangers you can be, so let’s get to know each other,” he said, smiling at you, “I gave you a gift…take it.” 

You shook your head at the madness of this all and gave him a small exasperated smirk. 

“I guess I don’t have much of a choice, do I?” you asked, “I can’t  even die.” 

He squeezed your shoulder.

“Choices are overrated. What do the Rolling Stones say?” he said, singing to you in an adorably bad voice, “You can’t always get what you want, but if you try sometimes you just might find, you get what you neeeeed.”

#monster fluff #monster x reader #monster boyfriend #demon x reader #yandere fluff #male yandere #yandere x reader

[ateezscupid]

For the ATEEZ prompt event, could please do #7 for the story plot, then #57 and #61 from fluff? Could you do it for Jongho please?

57: “i want everyone to see that we belong together.”

61: “i would never regret a thing in my life, since it led me to you.”

𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗯𝗶𝗱𝗱𝗲𝗻 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲 ⋆ 𝖼.𝗃𝗁 𝗑 𝗀𝗇!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

plot - raised in an orphanage, you know nothing of your magical heritage. however, when you reached the age of maturity, you discovered that you possessed the powers of both the light and the dark. you don't know how your dark powers came to be, but they could get you killed by the magical enforcers: a group sworn to remove black magic from the world. that’s why you fled the orphanage in the dead of night and never looked back. you survived on the streets, using your wit, grit, and a few of your dark powers, but only when absolutely necessary. now an adult, you remain in the shadows, keeping to yourself. one fateful night you stumble across an attempted murder. you refuse to watch an innocent man be killed. you save their life with no choice but to use your dark powers. little do you know that the handsome person you saved is, in fact, a magical enforcer.

genre + warnings - fluff, mentions of blood, mentions of wounds

word count - 1.71k

tags - @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna @starillusion13

being on the run wasn’t fun. having to move from place to place, having to cover your half of your face so you wouldn’t be caught by any enforcers, it became tiring. but throughout it all, jongho was there to reassure you and keep you safe.

the way you and jongho met was—interesting. you, a person who was born with dark powers, finding a magical enforcer on the ground gasping for air as he was covered in blood. you couldn’t just leave that man on the ground dying a slow death? he could’ve had a wife at home, or kids! a family who saw their father leave and never comeback, you couldn’t do that to him.

you used your powers to heal him, just enough to take him to your base and fix him up correctly. of course, the man passed out the minute you arrived. while he was unconscious, you wiped the blood off his face, neck and clothing. just as you were cleaning his armor, his eyes open.

the moment he saw those pretty, jet black orbs, he knew what you were. he jumps out of your hold and backs up. it took a minute to explain to him why he was even there in the first place, but he sat and listened . did he want to? no, he didn’t, but he stayed anyway.

but as he stayed, he grew more fond of you day by day. he introduced himself as jongho. throughout his stay, you two closed and closer to the point where you guys were dating. but it wasn’t easy. he’d always come home late, either covered in blood and stan w pounds, or in dirt. the amount of times you needed to fix him up was crazy, but you never got tired of it.

as long as you were with him and he was with you, everything was fine. you felt safe with him. even when people were hunting you down, jongho stayed by your side, knowing his life was in danger as well. if anyone found out he associated with you and kept you hidden, he’d be killed too but he didn’t care.

“jongho, i don’t think it’s safe to go out at this hour.” you mutter. “there’s a huge event going on, meaning there’s guards everywhere, meaning some of them are magical enforcers. if they see my stamp, i’m done for.”

“i want everyone to see that we belong together.” he smiled as his grasp tightened around your hand. you looked at him as if he were crazy. he knew if the two of you were caught together, you’d be killed on the spot.

“j-jongho, you know that’s not safe!” you frown. “i-i cant go out there tonight, please, i want to go home.”

“y/n, listen,” he turns you to face him, his hands on your shoulders. “with the amount of times i’ve died your hair, they can’t possibly recognize you. and again, we’re going to be wearing masks? nobody is going to find you. nobody is going to catch you. if someone sees you, i’ll…take care of it. i’d never let anyone hurt you, i love you too much.”

“jongho, i’m still scared… w-what if something happens? s-something bad? i-i—i don’t want you to regret bringing me here or even meeting me and i feel like you do sometimes and—”

“i would never regret a thing in my life, since it led me to you.” jongho cut you off in a stern tone, eyes boring into yours. “being with you has made me the happiest i’ve ever been. i wouldn’t trade you for anything in the world.”

“jongie, you’re gonna make me cry.” you sniffle and pout. he loved when you made that face. you looked adorable.

“it’s okay, just know i love you. and you look adorable when you make that face. now, can we leave now? i heard they had free food, so we could take some home with us. are you okay with that?”

“mmmm, i’m fine with it. let’s go, i’m hungry.”

#cupids fest ❀ #cupids asks and submits ♡ #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez scenarios #choi jongho scenarios #choi jongho #jongho x you #jongho x y/n #ateez jongho #jongho x reader #jongho #jongho x gn!reader #jongho x gn reader #jongho fanfic #jongho fluff #ateez angst #ateez fluff #ateez ff #ateez fantasy au #ateez fic

[lilac-5ky]

The Embodiment of a Dream, pt.2 (Takasugi x Courtesan Fem!Reader)

A/N: WELL, I said I'd finish this in February, but somehow it's April now?!?! Crazy, I know right .-. I'm so bad with deadlines, sue me or straight up murder me, I'll take either ;-; On another note, THIS AIN'T THE LAST PART OF THE FIC, there was a change in plans. The third part will be the final one, decided to break it into two pieces since I wanted the word count to stay in the 7k-8k words. Hoping this turned out good enough!

Plot: The continuation of the relationship between Takasugi and a Yoshiwara courtesan.

Warning: Similar to the first part, but this one actually includes smut.

Part 1

In the wake of Shinsuke’s injury, you found yourself running through the halls like a headless chicken, struggling your hardest to prevent an unprecedented situation from blowing up. The Shinsengumi were gone, but the hunt was far from over. If someone had seen him enter your room all bloodied up, someone who knew both his face and the name Takasugi Shinsuke put two and two together, then your heads wouldn’t be the only ones to roll. You sure didn’t hold the people of this house in high esteem, but you weren’t too keen on unnecessary bloodshed either.

Shinsuke’s coming occurred in secrecy, and a secret it shall remain until all conflict can be avoided.

Your first initiative was to weasel your way out of tonight’s workload. Fortunately, one look at your recolored kimono was enough to convince Boss to exempt you. Miscarriages were somewhat of a common trade feature, and judging by the sheer volume of red splattered across your skirt, yours must have been quite the excruciating one.

To say this was part of a bigger, elaborate plan would be a lie. But his false interpretation was most convenient when it came to limiting your quarter’s traffic and definitely earned you more time —three days off, to be precise— than any half-assed sniffling would.

He promised that a hearty dinner be delivered to your doorstep, and you graciously departed, leaving him to smoke through the contents of his hidden stash of Amanto-produced tobacco in peace.

You climbed the stairs back to your room, cradling your stomach and wincing in feigned anguish whenever one of the girls happened to pass you by. None offered help, and none dared make any inquiries. Under the guise of serving Yoshiwara’s much-treasured laws of privacy, they refused to admit their unwillingness to see past the ends of their noses. Not that you blamed them. You were all too familiar with the concept, and if it weren’t for a certain brooding patient confined within the four walls of your bedroom, then you could claim to abide by such rules yourself.

You caught Shinsuke sleeping a deep slumber, his breath quietly sizzling in his nostrils. The painkillers must have finally kicked in. Drowsiness was among the first side effects listed in the box’s endless list of instructions, though as far as you were concerned, the pills’ actual effect on him remained unknown.

What great irony, you sneered. To think that all this medicine that was once meant for you has now returned to him. Truly ironic.

Around him, torn pieces of cotton were sprinkled all over the floor like confetti; the kimono they composed no longer in existence. He wasn’t so provident as to carry extra dressings on him, and you weren’t about to go pharmacy scavenging in the middle of the night. And so, your precious customer’s precious gift ended in thin strips of amputated cranes and decomposing camellias, the first of which stared at you with an accusatory look that begged you to feel something other than the sickening delight you got from snipping them.

After successfully discarding them, you dragged your dresser upon that one stubborn bloodstain on the carpet, grimacing at every instance of shrill sound that threatened to wake him up, and once that was out of the way, you picked out a clean outfit and headed into the bathroom, finding him in the exact same spot you’d left him, with the only indication of his being alive that of his consistently sharp breathing.

There was little you could do at this point. All that was left was to participate in this dull game of wait-and-see until he could confirm his own condition himself.

But what if he didn’t wake up? What if it took him longer than three days to recover? What if he never woke up? Not after three days, not ever again?

Thoughts of equal concern festered in your mind all the while you watched after him, your fingers itching to drop the sewing kit and shake him awake. Unlike that time you’d mistook him for asleep, his current expression appeared thoroughly serene. His identically shut eyelids could very easily be home to a pair of identically green orbs, and as for his lips… his gaping lips were almost calling out to yours.

You sighed loudly and crossed the thread through another hole in his yukata. Without its owner wearing it, the fabric hung lifeless in your hands, creasing and crumpling at your needle’s disposal as you tended to each and every damaged butterfly wing. One would think these were a shogun’s or even an emperor’s garments, for such was your reverence, and yet the color of the patches regrettably turned out a shade too light.

Another sigh followed, joined by a deeper one that was certainly not yours.

“How are you feeling?”

His eye fluttered slowly enough to remind you of its singularity “Like I should be dead instead.”

“I’m glad you aren’t,” you grinned, feeling a weight dropping off your shoulders. “I’d hate to lose my favorite customer.”

“And here I thought you simply wanted to avoid getting jumped by a mob of samurai,” he said, his voice gruff from sleep. “So? Have you grown tired of playing nurse yet?”

“Not at all. If it pleases you, I can dress the part too.” You joked.

A dry chuckle scraped his throat. “Almost forgot we were in Yoshiwara.”

Securing the thread into a knot, you snapped the loose end with your teeth. The job was done, and while you wouldn’t call it as good as new, it seemed decent enough to carry him home— wherever that was.

“How about some water?” You proposed, but Shinsuke didn’t answer.

His interest was drawn past the window sill and the neon-light signs of the opposing building to the charcoal sky above. It was pitch black. No moon nor star dared peak beneath the clouds for fear of leading his pursuers back to him. All was shrouded in a veil of perfect stillness that fed into his gaze, creating a seemingly bottomless vortex at the center of his eye.

“Shinsuke…?”

As if an imaginary plug were pulled, the darkness began to dissipate, unclear whether it poured back out or further in. His shoulders rose up to his ears, although, no later than a second passed, a parched cough came to contradict his shrug.

You folded the yukata to the side and fetched him a flask of cold water. First, he groaned, and then his eye rolled in seeming disdain, but eventually his lips parted and let you tilt the sprout between, his hand forcing yours away once he’d had enough.

“You know, you try too hard to be insufferable.”

“And I’m not?” He smirked.

“Far from it,” you shook your head. “I happen to find your whims quite—”

Before you could finish your sentence, a knock against the door’s frame came to interrupt. Must be dinner, you instinctively thought and jumped up, motioning him to keep quiet, just in case.

Right outside the threshold, a tray that contained one steaming bowl of beef udon awaited, the rich aroma of its broth spiraling into your nostrils. Thick noodles, miso soup, shiitake mushrooms, freshly chopped scallions, and golden-brown sesame oil drizzled on top; the signature dish of the corner eatery. Boss didn’t kid when he dubbed this a “hearty dinner.” It almost pained you to part from it, but between the two of you, Shinsuke was the one who needed strength the most.

“Room service,” you declared, sliding through the door. “Please, quit being stubborn and have something to eat.”

He glanced your way apathetically, neither declining nor accepting your offer until a spoon was aimed at his mouth.

“That won’t be needed,” he propped himself onto his elbows.“I’d rather save myself some dignity.”

As he sat up, the sheets receded down his thighs, revealing a series of neatly wrapped dressings whose color gradiented to dark brown. Thank goodness, he must have stopped bleeding out.

You nodded in respect to his request and transferred the tray to his lap, watching each spoonful succeed over another and coughing loudly whenever your stomach dared act up. It felt so empty— your body, that was. Drool drained backward in your throat, your mouth gradually assuming the raw dryness of cotton. Was this the taste of abnegation, you mused.

Becoming aware of your indiscreet stare, he suggested that you split the noodles in half, but when he did, you found it much easier to ball your sleeve over your fist and wipe the corner of his mouth with a smile on yours, ushering him to eat more.

Soon, the bowl emptied and Shinsuke reclined back to his previous position, whilst you sat to his right like a watchful sentry. The minute his head hit the pillow, the light in his eye dimmed, suggesting his exhaustion. Again, he seemed so worn out, that your name barely echoed as a faint whisper past his sealed lips.

“Anything else you need?”

“Undress.” The clear spelling of the word left little room for interpretation. Still, your first instinct was to cower in your corner.

“Don’t get any weird ideas,” he smirked.“Even if I wanted to express my… profound gratitude, those pills you fed me would stand in the way.”

“Then—”

“I’ve already indebted myself borrowing your food and bedding. Least I can do is return one of the two,” he continued. “Take your clothes off, or keep them on, if that’s what suits you. Just come lie down beside me.”

Your eyes locked to affirm the certainty of his tone. He was dead serious about his intentions, though the prospect of sharing a bed was perhaps more tantalizing than he’d intended it to be. It gave reason for your heart to beat faster and for a certain familiar tingle to surge between your thighs, ushering you to acknowledge it— which you unwittingly did, as you shifted in your place and pressed your knees together.

Your habit of fidgeting with your clothes in stressful times resumed, except this once, your fingers were tugging at the obi to loosen it up, each layer uncoiling into a pile of huddled snakes for you to stomp on, as you rose to your feet and shed off your kimono. You had his attention. No, more than that, you had his eye entirely hooked on you, studying each curve of your body with unmistakable interest and fascination, as if it were an art piece for him to appraise. And when he looked at you like that, you realized just how much you longed to be seen.

A little smile stretched from the corners of your lips to his, as you circled around the futon and slipped beneath the covers. Even when he’d barely budged from bed, your side of the linen remained excruciatingly cold for your skin to handle. You tried shriveling in half, but in doing so you bumped your head against his arm. You spluttered an apology and turned the other way, only to conclude the position was equally discourteous.

And thus, you ended up with your arms crossed over your breasts, your conscience idly counting wooden tiles in the ceiling and praying that their numbers were great enough for you to doze off— they weren’t. They didn’t exceed the double digits, and when you finished counting each about five times, you understood that sleep was never an option. Not when you insisted on stealing furtive glances at him, one patch of skin at a time.

You didn’t have the chance to fully appreciate it earlier, but Gods, he looked even better without a darn thing on. His body was the perfect continuation of his beautiful face. Lean, but not actually scrawny. Toned, but not too brawny either. Arms that were tried in strenuous swordsmanship and delicate collarbones that framed his pecs. A thin sheen of sweat coated his abs to the point where you could see them. It made his skin subtly glisten in the dark, and it made you want to skim over him; first with your palms, and then with your lips— if he allowed.

The chilly air subdued to the kind of unsettling heat that had your breath hitching up your throat, restless exhales eventually shaping up into becoming his name.

“Why me?” At last, the question burned its fuse. “There are plenty of women in Yoshiwara— why me?”

“Because,” the sheets to your right rustled, “you were the only one not affiliated with some Bakufu dog.”

“Is that… all?”

“That’s the reason why I chose you,” he confirmed your disappointment, “but aren’t you more curious as to why I kept coming back?”

Your cheek tilted in a cushion of sudden warmth, his palm holding the weight of your gazes together. He leaned closer, so close that you could no longer see him, but feel him. The feathery touch of his purple strands over your forehead, the leftover tobacco essence in his breath, and the shared heartbeat as it pounded in your chests. He prevailed against all senses, common and uncommon, getting the better, if not the best, of you.

“Your eyes,” you heard him say, and popped them open. “A skilled courtesan knows to orchestrate the perfect lie with body, soul, and mind, and yet, your eyes refuse to coordinate. Your distaste, your distrust, and your hatred. The true colors you think the red lights hide,” the smile rang in his voice. “You really think those are hidden from me?”

The very object of his judgment must have betrayed your surprise, considering he was the one to answer his own question.

“Relax. I don’t see beyond what you choose to reveal.”

“And what do you see now?” A shaky voice asked.

“Myself.”

His next breath stole the oxygen from yours, with his lips deliberately ghosting over your jaw in a fleeting motion that escorted him back to his pillow. Was this seduction? If so, it felt an awful lot like frustration.

“This is the second time you question my skills.”

“Does it bother you?” Shinsuke asked. “In any case, what I’m questioning isn’t your skills as a courtesan, but your nature as one.”

“I wasn’t born into it,” you admitted, knitting your fingers over your stomach. “A prostitute, a terrorist, some…. ‘Bakufu dog.’ Nobody is born into nothing. We get assigned to these roles and are expected to play them up to the final round of applause. Some are just lucky enough to fit the part.”

“Turns out I was right, after all.”

“What do you mean?”

“Those who are interesting either have one screw too loose or have suffered a great deal.”

“And what makes you think I’ve suffered?”

You didn’t expect an answer—not truly, at least. And so, you skipped over to the next question, the one whose answer itched you the most to find. “Have you suffered a lot?”

“Kind of you to exempt me from the first category,” he jested, his light-hearted chuckle barely matching the solemn expression on his face. “Most would assume a man seeking to destroy the world is bat-shit crazy.”

“Because I’ve come to know a Shinsuke, most don’t. To tell you the truth, I…” you bit your lips into a straight line and rolled to face him. He was curious enough to return the gesture, his shoulders shifting in your direction as he balanced himself on his good side.

“I’ve seen you. Way before we were acquainted, I saw you walk those very same streets with people that accompany you no longer. You were admired, and you were praised, and you— I didn’t get the chance to see your face, back then, but I know you must’ve had at least one good reason to smile, didn’t you?

“I don’t mean to pry into your past, and I won’t ask what happened between the two versions of you. But the Shinsuke who brought a lowly courtesan medicine for her sickness; the Shinsuke who told me to live as a woman rather than a puppet; the Shinsuke who in the face of death sought my company instead of a doctor’s; the Shinsuke who gave me a reason to laugh, and sing, and a reason to get out of bed and to endure all the vileness of men, and taught me there’s kindness in the night— Those versions of you are far more precious to me than any war-general or world-class terrorist I could meet.

“And I don’t mean to repeat myself, but I’d like to ask a final time. Have you suffered on your way here? Has it been hard on you?”

A pained smile was all he could muster to reply.

You sighed for him, for the man he was and the man he’d become, and for the little girl whose face still gleamed in your memory between trawlers and rows of fishing poles in her father’s shed, free of tarnish. Someone had to mourn for those and the futures they’d lost, and seeing as he was there right now, you guessed he didn’t have anyone else to do that in his stead.

“If you keep at it, you might convince me that it’s real.” He quietly mumbled.

“Is it not?”

In no time, you’d crossed over to his side, your fingers palpitating between his neck and jawline. It was as if gravity pulled you down to him, a force of attraction so great that when your eyes settled on his lips, your tongue begged to tease them apart. And when they did part, all doubt and uncertainty were negated, for this was no matter of sentiment or intentions, but of bodies coming together.

His hands spanned from your shoulders to your waist and to your thighs below, the softness of your moan meeting with the hoarseness of his groan as wetness met with firmness. He was dragging you closer by any means possible, hips joining and then thrusting in futility of his clothed cock. You opened up for him, your knee coiling around his torso as your fingers slid across his stomach, reveling in how his muscles tightened and tensed up until they gave way to a violent jolt.

“Sh-Shinsuke-san!” You immediately unraveled, your eyes searching for signs of pain in his stiffened expression. “Are you okay?”

“I thought we moved past this.” His lips curled into a grimace as he followed your stare to his bandages. They were still intact, albeit slightly wrinkled. You lowered a hand over his wound and he gulped down hard, his shaky breath contradicting the “I’m fine” he was about to utter.

But when you pulled your fingers off and attempted to return to your pillow, he refused to separate from your waist and held you even tighter, pairing your chin with his shoulder and the small of your back with both his arms. You couldn’t object, or rather, you didn’t want to object. In his embrace, you felt so small that no reason seemed big enough to leave it.

“I couldn’t care less if it isn’t,” Shinsuke whispered, circling back to his previous question. “I don’t care if you are a Yoshiwara woman, and I don’t care how many men you’ve slept with or deceived either. From this moment onward, you can lie all you want. Lie and I’ll believe, because… you are mine.”

Before you knew it, tears began welling in your eyes for a reason you could hardly define. A woman who’d spend her entire life in possession of another, a woman whose body was hardly hers, to begin with, a woman that had nothing to her name— What could such a woman aspire to give? If all parts of you were bought out, what could he possibly hope to own?

However, his words had already seeped under your skin, traversing from one ear to the other, down your spine, and up your head again, as you hesitantly came to confirm his notion with the meekest of nods.

The last thing you made of that night was the shape of his lips against your skin, along with the oath that accompanied them: Even if no part of me belongs to me, whatever fragment of my heart remains is yours to keep. Because… I am yours.

He was gone the morning after.

And the morning after that.

And the morning after the morning after that.

You counted a total of 36 mornings where he didn’t give a single sign of life. Mornings that were succeeded by insufferable noons full of idle girl talk in the balcony, and evenings where the alcohol was nearly not enough to blur out the faces of those around you. But far more intolerable than hearing the same story about some silver-haired scoundrel trying to trade pachinko balls for cash, and pretending to find joy in the way some sleazy merchant plowed you on all four, was not knowing whether Shinsuke was alive or dead.

As much as you’d like to personally dig into it, snooping around when Shinsengumi’s investigation had just been put on hold was bound to turn all eyes on your back, and if he was to ever return, you didn’t want your lack of discretion to stand in the way. Yoshiwara was treacherous enough as it was. Besides, rumor had it that the cops’ failure in capturing a mere “phantom terrorist” forced the Commissioner to cut down on police funds, along with a few heads of his incompetent men. The latter part sounded mostly fictitious, though part of you did hope that the ill-mannered cop from the other day was among those headless corpses.

In any case, it was safe to assume neither Shinsuke nor his body had been found. Whether he’d made it back to his comrades in one piece or bled out in some dark alleyway, knowing he’d escaped their clutches gave you hope. And perhaps, it was hope that brought you to the aforementioned congregations, whose main gossip topic was your house’s love affairs.

It turned out that more than half of those money-depended relationships you previously mocked were built on a much deeper basis than one would imagine. Each girl had this one patron whose talk alone made their eyes shimmer. Some carried a strand of their hair around their pinky— a promise. Others scarcely held onto their correspondence beneath their undergarments until the paper thinned. One kept an entire box devoted to memorabilia of their beloved: a handkerchief they left behind, a jade ring that was their first gift, and pictures. Far too many pictures of them.

A few months back you would have sneered at their faces, but the longer you spent in their company, the more you began feeling some sort of kinship blossom between you. To have a preference escalate to something more, was a feeling you knew all too well.

It was inevitable that by the fifth time you attended their meetings, you’d be asked about your own affairs, and when that moment came, you chuckled politely and switched the topic back to the previous speaker’s flame. So far this tactic had worked 31 out of 31 times, and while neither side shared the information the other longed to hear —in your case, news about the one that got away,— listening to them read their letters out loud had given birth to a new idea.

Now, you weren’t proficient in literature by no means, and the only letters you’d ever exchanged were based on false attraction. But if you could somehow manage to get a letter delivered and answered, your mind would be put to rest.

Your first efforts were defined by a series of smudged-up writings of his name. “Shinsuke” felt too plain a salutation and “Shinsuke-san” was sure to earn you an earful. “Takasugi,” or “Takasugi-san” came off too formal, while “My beloved” was still a matter of contemplation. Eventually, you decided that “Dear Shinsuke” which your latest attempts featured, was the right amount of personal without sounding too pretentious or unnatural.

Once you’d gotten that down, your primary concern became the letter’s main body. What on earth would you write him? The letters of those girls were heavily dosed with words of eloquent sensibility that a mere “I miss you—I’m worried about you—Please come back” could never hope to compete with. Urgency aside, you didn’t want to come off as an illiterate idiot.

You tried your hardest, crumpling one ball of paper after the other and then cringing equally as hard at what came to be the final product among an abundance of discarded drafts that littered the floor.

Dear Shinsuke,

How strange it is to have written numerous letters for my pen to only tremble now. Ink does sentiment little justice, and yet my entire heart’s contents are summed in that first salutation. Dear’s what I’ve come to call you, for dear’s what you are to me.

And so I call you dear again, twice and then thrice, while watching the sunrise. I used to hate all dawns that led to our nights’ demise, but now each dawn brings me new hope. Hope that you’re safe and in good health, for I dare not imagine you unwell. They say patience is a virtue, but how many more suns need to rise before I become virtuous? How many hollow moons until my longing settles?

The ways to express my desire are as plentiful as the stars written in the skies, and I fear, that for as long as you evade my arms’ embrace they’ll insist to multiply.

Nevertheless, I must draw the line here and convey one final thought. I’ve been pondering on words you’ve said, and have concluded that a dream’s end lies between its fulfillment and the waking of its host. Because a dream completed is no different than a goal achieved, and a dreamer’s awakening shutters all that could have been.

Am I dreaming, my dear Shinsuke? Or will my dream begin when we’re no longer apart? If I’m asleep, don’t wake me up, but if I’m awake, please hurry back.

Faithfully yours,

Your improper courtesan.

You must have folded and unfolded that last piece of paper at least a dozen times, sighing at each interval in between. This is so embarrassing, you ruminated, forehead against the table, and hands thrown over the edge in indication of surrender. An entire day went by and this was the best you could come up with. How very embarrassing; words you must have said out loud for you got an actual response.

“Didn’t know Yoshiwara women were capable of embarrassment.” The voice of a man cooed in your ear, its tone so gentle that if you hadn’t been scared out of your wits, you would have leaned back to relish it.

However, the only thing you managed was to flinch in such rapidness that caused the ink bottle to fly straight into his palm. Wide-eyed, you traced the fingers back to their owner, well aware of whom they belonged to. He looked good. He always did, but what set him apart from the last time you saw him was the significant lack of bandages. Even his damaged eye was left bare on a rare occurrence.

“You’re back!” You gasped.

“I am,” Shinsuke nodded. “Although, I can’t say I remember this place looking like a pigsty.”

You glanced around in horror at what the place you used to call your “room” had become. There were more pages on the floor than there would’ve been if you’d shredded an entire collection of encyclopedias.

“How long have you been standing there?” You asked as you attempted to sweep the papers into one big pile away from his legs.

“Long enough to realize the cause of your embarrassment.” His eye wandered toward your makeshift desk and settled on the letter upon it.

Your arms urged to cover the words from his sight, but unfortunately, he was too fast for your own good.

“This isn’t-”

“A love letter?” He smirked, waving it in the air to unfold it.

“Meant for you!” You protested.

“It has my name on.” His forefinger pointed where the title should be.

“It’s nothing important-”

“If it wasn’t, then why waste all this paper?”

“Please,” you tugged at his yukata. “don’t.”

He lowered the letter for your eyes to meet— his narrowed green orb rotating a full circle. Perhaps it was your pleading tone, or maybe the pup-like stare you were giving him. No matter the cause, he was merciful enough to fold the letter inside his yukata and take a seat beside you, his interest soon drawn by the empty bottle of sake on the table’s corner.

Normally, a girl would’ve brought a refill before a guest arrived, but as fast as you were concerned your night wasn’t booked in advance.

“Should I bring you something to drink?” You tried to change the subject.

“No need,” he shrugged, shifting the bottle between his fingers.

“Have you eaten…?”

“I have.”

Was this his way of keeping a grudge, you wondered, spotting the creased paper corner that peaked from his chest.

“Aren’t you going to read that?”

He let go of the bottle at once, head tilting in your direction. “I don’t see why I should when you don’t want me to.”

“Then why are you keeping it?”

Your question brought forth a smile to his features— one that could be considered equal parts smug as it was coy.

“To commemorate the first love letter I receive,” Shinsuke answered.

“I find it hard to believe no one’s ever written you one before,” you said, adding a second part to your sentence in case he found the first too insolent. “You seem the kind of man who receives lots of letters, is all.”

“None I wasn’t allowed to read,” he retorted. “For that, I consider yours the first.”

Allow is a heavy word, you wished to object, though he wasn’t quite wrong either.

“How are you?” You asked in a cowardly voice and then repeated again.“That’s what the letter says. ‘How are you? I’m fine.’”

“Is that all?” he chuckled. “You wrote me a letter to ask how I’m doing?”

“…And I miss you,” you sighed. “‘I miss you, I’m worried about you, please come back alive.’”

The tone of your complexion was reflected on his cheeks, as an inconspicuous red hue spread upon them. You bet he didn’t blush too often, or else he’d know to hide it. Even his smile seemed mellower than before, lacking the usual cunning sharpness.

“You talk more like a courtesan now.”

“Isn’t it time I acted like one, too?” Your hand moved on top of his own and brought it to your lips, unlocking each of his fingers with a kiss. “I want you.”

He cupped your face in his palm and dragged his thumb over your bottom lip, eyes glinting at what was about to come. “Was this also in the letter?”

“No,” you smiled. “I wanted to say this in person. I want you-”

And suddenly, you understood what being his entailed, for your lips belonged to him, along with your tongue, your breath, and all you had to give. It was all his. The neck his eager palm steadied, the silky hair his fingers carefully untangled, the soft thighs straddling him, and the visceral sounds your mouths exchanged. It was all his to take. Every part of you that once was, no longer were. Only a fervent urge left burning in its place, augmented with every little jab across your velvet skin.

His lips withdrew to your neck, arms tightening around your waist for your chest to rise up against him. You tried to untie your obi, but Shinsuke acted first, sliding your kimono well past your cleavage and attaching himself to your breasts— one at a time. His wet tongue rolled around your nipples, sucking them into hardness, while his eye focused solely on your expressions.

You bit your agape mouth shut, gulping the heaviest of breathings down as his hand crossed between your legs to find the spot that begged for him the most. He circled his thumb over your clit in a way that was awfully similar to how he’d held your lips. He moved it languidly and continuously, again and then all over again until a needy moan was coaxed. And when that happened, he kept on going, ignoring the strain in his fundoshi, and persisting until his face was squeezed between your heaving breasts. He remained kissing them and kissing you down from your high, the final of his tender kisses landing upon your fiery cheeks.

“I’m fine, thank you.”

For a minute, you failed to register what he meant, though when you did, neither had the chance at a chuckle as you fell back onto each other. Insatiable fingers freed him from his obi, exposing his body to your touch. He laid back against his elbows, a hint of surprise widening his eye as you planted your lips on his chest and licked your way around his nipples. You sucked one of them in, gently pinching the other with your thumb and forefinger. Does it feel good, you meant to ask, but seeing as his head arched backward, it was safe to assume he savored this no less than you did.

Your mouth drifted to his stomach, hands pushing the fabric aside only to stop at the first of a series of mismatched patches. He could’ve gotten himself a new yukata, and yet he wore the one you’d fixed him with equal pride.

Fawning over the notion, you didn’t notice him turn the tables on you, just like he didn’t notice his knee nudging the table down, the ink bottle he’d tried so hard to salvage cracking into a pool of ebony black across the tatami your head laid upon. He brushed all hair off your face and stared at you for a good while, his gaze almost pious. You wondered what he thought of— if he thought about anything at all, and what he saw— if he saw anything worth seeing in that impressionable face of yours, though soon, you grew too preoccupied with his actions to care about his thoughts.

He claimed your hand and pushed it above your head, locking his fingers together with yours. His arm felt heavy; not as heavy as his hips and certainly not as heavy as the bundle of nerves in the pit of your stomach, but still, heavy enough to restrain you. It was time. Your knees bent back to your stomach, allowing him to align with your entrance. And when he pushed himself in, gods, he was still looking deep within your eyes, at the soul, you doubted existed. He watched it darken and twist in pleasure that you shared, and if someone asked what he did so differently from all others, you wouldn’t dare to voice that four-letter word at loud.

The difference was never in his thrusts or the way he kissed, so full of ecstasy and life. The difference lay in how he made everything burn brighter and blur murkier at the same time, in how he was capable of anchoring you, as he was in making you soar. Because the answer and the question were both him and if that imaginary, indiscreet stranger pried for more, you’d decided to name this your first time, too.

“If someone walked in right now, they wouldn’t be able to tell the courtesan and the guest apart.”

“If someone walked in right now, they’d be lucky if a courtesan and a guest were all they saw.”

One’s words accompanied a dull trail of smoke and the other’s a vibrant melody, with the first pouring out your lips and the second from his fingers. One sat with their knees apart, and the other lay on their back. One was naked from the waist up, and the other completely bare. One focused on the other, and the other focused on their song, both sharing the same complacent smile on their lips.

“You seem awfully fond of my pipe,” said Shinsuke, strumming one string after the other, while you drew short and frequent puffs.

“My father had a kiseru just like this one,” you exhaled, shifting the pipe between your knuckles. “He loved himself a good smoke after dinner. Called it ‘the last instance of affordable freedom in this shit world.’ Ma’ had different ideas. To put it short, she hated it. Opened all windows and fanned the smoke out as if the house was on fire.

“I remember how, once, sis stole the kiseru from his jacket and we took a puff each, not fully grasping what it was. It was horrible, that’s what it was,” a chuckle broke through your words. “But not as horrible as Mother’s shrieks when she found us puking our guts out on the kitchen floor. She’d made us swear we’d never touch tobacco again, and we took the oath without second-guessing.”

“And here you are breaking it,” he sneered.

“Madam’s the same way,” you went past his interruption. “She hates it when Boss smokes and nags him every chance she gets, even though she was the one who taught us how to handle it, should a guest ask us to indulge. One of the many must-knows of the job,” you explained, closing your fingers over the pipe’s neck. “You’re right. I really am fond of this. Maybe because it’s yours. Maybe because it tastes like you.”

His lips curved into a slight smile, his eye never stirring away from the instrument on his lap. “Keep it. I have no grand memories to back my habit up.”

“I didn’t mean to-”

“Take it,” he insisted. “See it as an addition to your stories, or just something to remember me by.”

“You talk as if you won’t be coming back…”

“‘Increased chances of sudden death’ and ‘low life expectancy’ are both in the job description,” he shrugged. “Who knows when my time to kick the bucket will come? We might not get a chance at goodbye then”

“That’s not fair,” you said in a quiet voice full of complaint, gaze lowering along with the music’s tempo. “Haven’t enough died already?” Haven’t I lost enough already? “Why should you die too?” Why should I lose you too?

“You aren’t wrong. Certainly, more than enough have died to incriminate the Bakufu, but not quite as many shoguns have perished to atone for that sin. I intend to force a draw on the scale. Ten shoguns for each of my fallen soldiers, until no man’s left to step in the ringleader’s shoes. That should be enough to justify their sacrifice, don’t you think? As for me,” his smile turned into a sinister grin while saying those words. “I don’t wish to die in a world where the last instance of affordable freedom is tobacco.”

The lump in your throat began to dissipate with your settling back against the pillow. You knew better than to trust a single word that came out of your guests’ mouths, but his determination convinced you to accept the pipe with a clear conscience.

The music resumed —not that it’d ever stopped—, a tune sweeter than those you were used to. With your chin balanced on your elbow, you found yourself humming in accordance with the notes, nodding along to the mellifluous rhythm he composed.

“This sounds nice,” you smiled once you had his attention. “What is it?”

“Who knows?” He humored you, knowingly triggering your favorite pastime of lyrical guesswork.

“Hmm, it’s soft— like affection, but,” you leaned closer “the way each chord lingers well before giving way to another, is almost like seduction.”

“Are you, now?” He rasped, fingers hesitating to pick the next harmony. “Seduced?”

You stole a playful peck from his lips as an answer, his eye barely given enough time to close.

“Who knows?” you mumbled, his mouth quick to welcome yours with ease. How many kisses had you shared to reach this point of familiarity; a fleeting thought crossed your mind. How many kisses did it take for this to feel like the most natural and right thing in the world?

Even as you straddled his lap, Shinsuke still held onto the shamisen, its tuning pegs sharply digging into your flesh. If this turned anything like the previous night —or the one before— did, he’d soon shove it in the corner and pick you up instead. He’d trail the entirety of your skin, from your neck down to your thighs, peppering little purple love bites wherever he saw fit. He’d throw your knees over his shoulders and he’d drink you up, his tongue prying where his eye couldn’t, and once he was sated, he’d lace your bodies together and pace slowly— slowly enough for your hips to melt together while he’d again be kissing your lips.

You knew exactly how it’d go, for you’d learned his preferences by heart, and yet your excitement refused to fizzle out. You shoved the instrument away from his reach, implementing an abrupt and rather rude ending to his concert. His hands slithered behind your back and firmly hugged your bum. It hadn’t been too long since he had his release, though you could very well feel the extent of his impatience.

“I can’t get enough of you,” one of you said, their voice obscured by the not-so-distant knocking on the door.

Cursing under your breath about how one of these days you’d have to rip it into paper shreds, you stumbled outside, your head peaking first over your naked body, in case you had company. All seemed clear, except for the unannounced visitor that awaited at your feet; a large rectangular wooden box.

“I see it finally arrived,” Shinsuke observed once you brought it to his sight. “About time.”

“Is it an explosive device of some sort?” you joked, lightly shaking the box.

“No,” he smirked. “Only a token of my gratitude. Go on, open it.”

A thin layer of wrapping paper covered what was a dark purple fabric. Silk, you realized as you ran your fingers across its length. A kimono, judging by the lighter-colored cuffs. An exquisite kimono, you added, its elegant pattern of pine, bamboo, and plum trees in gold taking you by surprise. An exquisite kimono in his colors, you concluded, comparing it to the yukata he donned.

“This…” you began, though your stupefied expression seemed to have spoken on its own.

“Save it,” he shook his head. “This is just compensation for your ruined dress and your hospitality. Was supposed to arrive weeks ago, but now that it’s here… turn around.”

He pulled the kimono out of the paper and you did as told, setting the box aside. You felt him get closer, his hot breath tingling your nape as the cold sensation of silk spread over your shoulders. His hands flattened it over your curves, sliding down your waist and hips, and then reaching to your front to fix the hem in place. You couldn’t tell if he was doing it on purpose, but when his knuckles ghosted over your nipples, you knew his objective involved more than dressing you up.

“Out of all the men to have stepped in here,” you said as he fished out a yellow obi from the box’s depths “you are the first to dress me rather than undress me.”

At first, he didn’t respond. He proceeded to wrap the obi around you, and once it was securely tied, his voice cooed in your ear “Since when were the two mutually exclusive?”

Your gaze met his briefly, as his lips fell on your own and his hands hiked up your dress. Two fingers slipped within your walls, massaging your insides gently while you brought each other to your knees, his palm carefully sinking your head onto the floor. Your heart beat louder than his voice telling you how well it suited you, though you didn’t need to hear it. His touch said all you need to know, sturdy hips lazily bucking against your own.

“Sh-Shinsuke?” you managed, removing his hand from your body. A darkened green orb peered at you curiously, lust not quite shaken from his stare.

“Have you ever been in love?” you regretted asking as soon as you did.

His curiosity turned into something else, something he can’t explain, just like he can’t give an answer to your question. He almost looked offended and you almost apologized, but then he hushed you with a heady kiss that had your head spinning.

“How does this feel?” he asked, well aware of the effect he had on you.

“G—good,” you panted.

He nodded, carefully dragging his open mouth along your jawline and neck where a second, far more fleeting kiss landed exactly where your breasts began.

“How does this feel?” he asked again.

“Good,” you answered, again with the same elementary term you used before.

His winsome smile hid underneath purple layers of hair, as he lowered his head down between your legs and spread them apart. He trailed a path from one thigh to the other, his lips not once closing to cover his warm breath. His fingers dug at your skin while he pulled you closer, the tip of his nose rubbing against your swollen clit that ached for him to touch it. But before he had the chance to either make contact or ask the final of his questions, you moaned the same word you did before.

It feels good. So, so, so damn good.

“Then,” Shinsuke climbed back up, “let’s call this love.”

#takasugi x reader #takasugi shinsuke x reader #takasugi shinsuke fanfiction #takasugi #takasugi smut #gintama #gintama smut #gintama fanfiction #ginama imagine #takasugi imagine #takasugi reader #takasugi gintama #takasugi shinsuke

[yanderecrazysie]

Omg imagine a part 2 where Oikawa's son (From Betray) grows up to be just as psychotic as he is and is obsessed with the reader (not in an incest-y way just in a crazy momma boy way) yn is the only woman they care about in their lives and this causes a lot of arguing and conflict between the pair. The reader is so emotionally broken at this point but she's heartbroken that the son has turned out this way.

The long-awaited Betray Part 2 is here! Thank you, my precious anon, for requesting! Everyone seemed really excited for it and I am too! I really hope you, and everyone else, enjoys it and that I don’t disappoint!

I may make a part 3 at some point, only because I feel like this might be disappointing to some people. I'm so nervous and really hope that everyone enjoys it!

(Part one can be found here: https://yanderecrazysie.tumblr.com/post/661090828792545280/oikawa-cheats-on-yn-by-having-sex-with-some)

Title: Betray (Part 2/2)

Pairings: Oikawa

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, referenced past cheating/infidelity, referenced past murder murder, swearing, mild stockholm sydrome, depression, swearing, delusional thought process, dad vs son everywhere, Author is scared she won’t make this one shot as good as everyone is hoping she will, Oikawa’s a desperate sleaze bag and it makes me laugh inside

Summary: You’ve been stuck with Oikawa for 15 years and he hasn’t changed a bit. Your son, however, has.

betray

/verb/

be disloyal to.

Oikawa’s relationship with you was nearly perfect. You’d stopped screaming and crying and struggling long ago and now had normal, albeit reluctant, conversations with him. You still weren’t fond of intimacy, but Oikawa never pushed you too far, remembering all too well the past that haunted him and the mistake he made because he wasn’t patient.

But, anyways, life with you was nearly perfect! Meals were always done together as a family, unless Oikawa was away at a game.

A family… Oikawa dreamily sighed aloud, twirling a strand of your hair in his fingertips idly. It was just Oikawa, you, and Shun.

But Shun was where the problem came in. The reason things were “nearly” perfect instead of perfect. A thorn in Oikawa’s side that only dug deeper every time he tried to get it out, a stain that only spread farther when he scrubbed at it, an itch that only got worse the more he scratched-

Oikawa had killed for you before. Multiple times. But he would never- could never- lay a hand on Shun. Even if he wanted to hurt his son, he knew you’d break. And that’s the last thing he wanted. A part of him also acknowledged the fact that Shun’s very existence may be a big factor in why you didn’t try to escape anymore.

Your relationship with Shun was nothing romantic- just mother and son- but Oikawa would kill for that relationship. You told Shun that you loved him without prompting or begging or bargaining or threatening. You hugged, cuddled, and kissed Shun on the cheek, and let him do the same to you without even flinching.

It made sense- Shun had never done anything wrong to you. But Oikawa could see that his son was catching on to his father’s ways and copying them, and, more than anything, he could see the fear in your eyes when this fact came crawling through you like some sort of diseased animal in the night.

“I love you, mom. You’re the only woman I’ll ever love, cross my heart and hope to die!”

It sounds too much like what he would say to you.

“If anyone tried to take me away from you, I’d kill them for you, mom.”

It sounds too much like something he would do for you.

Oikawa was fully aware of your panic when Shun became possessive and clingy, but he feigned obliviousness. Maybe if Shun became a bigger enemy to you, you’d turn to the better of two evils. Oikawa had calmed down over the years after all.

Or, at least you were under the impression he had calmed down.

Truthfully, he was always plotting and biding his time until he could take your affection away from Shun and turn it to him and him alone.

“Hey! Shun!” Oikawa caught sight of his son as he passed by the kitchen, “What are you doing back so early? Shouldn’t you be at school?”

Shun made a disgusted face, “Some girl asked me out.”

A figurative lightbulb popped into Oikawa’s mind as he saw his opportunity. A chance to make Shun put someone else over (Y/n).

“That’s so sweet!” Oikawa crooned, “What did you say?”

Shun’s expression was the definition of horrified- his mouth gaped and twisted, his eyes wide as saucers, his eyebrows curvy lines. “I said no!”

“Oh, did you?” The chocolate-haired setter tilted his head to the side innocently, “Why?”

“Because I would never betray Mom!” Shun’s words were filled with conviction, “I’ll never put another female ahead of Mom. Or a guy. Or anyone or anything. Mom is the most important person in the universe!”

Oikawa fought back a grimace.

That’s when you chose to appear, face filled with concern, having heard Shun’s raised, distressed voice. Before Shun could turn the situation to his favor, Oikawa spoke up, his voice smooth despite his frustration.

“Shun met a girl and she like-likes him.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” Your smile was wavering oddly. Oikawa could see the gears working in your head. The hope that Shun would finally loosen his iron hold and the fear for whatever girl he put his eyes on. The fear that her son would turn out like he did.

“No, it’s not!” Shun was adamant, but his voice was softer when he spoke to you, not harsh and biting like his tone always was to his father. “I’m only supposed to have room in my heart for one person.”

Oh, how Oikawa wished he never taught Shun that way of looking at the world. Maybe it wasn’t his fault- maybe it was in his son’s DNA to obsess over you- but he was sure he didn’t help, always making sure Shun treated you with the utmost delicacy a precious being like you deserved.

As Shun cried into your shoulder, darkness consumed Oikawa’s mind, that green eyed monster called jealousy clawing deep into his heart and refusing to let go. As much as he loved his son, something had to be done about this.

It was time for Shun to move on from his unhealthy infatuation with his mother, at least a little.

“You know, I’m sure Shun would love to go to the dance with you, if you have no one to go with,” Oikawa sat across from Iwaizumi’s daughter, who was only a few years younger than Shun, offering up his son as a sacrifice to the oblivious girl.

“Do you really think he wouldn’t mind?” The young teen’s eyes shone brightly with excitement at the prospect of having a date for her school’s dance, especially one that was an older boy who was undeniably handsome.

“I know he’d be honored to go with a young woman like you,” Oikawa smiled, victory swelling in his heart. Iwa-chan would probably kill him later, but it’d be worth it. Iwaizumi’s daughter was similar enough to you that one night with Shun off with another girl could turn into more than one night.

At least, Oikawa could dream.

Whether Shun liked it or not, you’d eat up the excuse that “Iwa-chan’s daughter was dumped the day before the dance, I couldn’t stand to see her so sad” You’d never let Shun leave a heartbroken girl out to dry on such an important night.

Which would mean Oikawa would finally, finally have you to himself for a night- for the first time in ages. And, with a little coaching and persuasion, Oikawa could change Shun’s worldview a little. Turn his obsessive personality to some random girl (probably not Iwaizumi’s daughter, he wouldn’t want to endanger his best friend) instead of his mother.

In the end, it’d work out. He’d never hurt you or his son, but Oikawa wouldn’t hesitate to get his hands a little dirty if it’d convince Shun that moving on would be best. And wouldn’t you be happy, when Shun “brings home” a daughter-in-law for you one day? Wouldn’t you be happy to have grandchildren running around?

If Oikawa could convince his son of that, even a loveless marriage would take up some of his time. Children sure would take some of Shun’s attention from you.

And Oikawa would finally have you almost all to himself, just like he wanted from the very beginning. He’d make sure you took his side every time, convinced Shun that getting a girlfriend would be best for you and him.

Now, Oikawa would never, ever hurt his son.

But you didn’t have to know that.

Part 3 is here: https://www.tumblr.com/yanderecrazysie/721251605710831616/is-there-a-possibility-for-a-betray-three-where

#yandere #yandere haikyuu #yandere oikawa #yandere oneshot #yandere one shot #oneshot #one shot #oikawa tooru #haikyuu!!

[writeforfandoms]

Weight of Living

Okay I literally banged this out in like... two and a half hours. So. Any mistakes are mine. I also included a choose your own ending. Because... well. You’ll see. 

Din Djarin and gn!reader

Warnings: Violence, murder, chaos, Din’s a little unstable and a little obsessive

Word count: 1.5k

Din had lost so much so quickly. The Crest. His Creed. Grogu. 

Too many losses. Not enough time to process. 

But he still had you. You, who’d been with him through so much of this crazy journey. You, who’d helped take care of the little one. You, who’d checked on Din more often than he could count (lies - he kept each time stored safely in his heart where he’d never forget your care). You, who had quickly made yourself almost as important as Grogu. 

Boba had helped him out, helping him acquire a new ship (too new, too quiet). You had decided to stay with Din, rather to his amazement. The life of a bounty hunter wasn’t glorious, or easy, but it was what he knew. 

He didn’t even know where his covert was. Who remained. But he knew bounty hunting. So that’s what he returned to. He didn’t let you help - you weren’t trained, and he was too used to working solo, especially on the more dangerous runs. You protested, wanting to help, wanting to be useful, but he ignored your pleas. 

You were the last important thing he had left. He had to protect you. He had to. 

There was more than one argument about that. 

Din landed the new ship (too smooth, too easy, he didn’t have to compensate nearly as much) and then took a moment to just breathe. He knew you were unhappy. It was very easy to tell. Your frustration permeated the air, heavy and cloying. Steeling himself, he stood and left the cockpit to find you.

It wasn’t hard. It wasn’t a large ship, after all. There were only a few places you could be, and he found you in the hold near his (new) weapons locker.

“Keep ground security protocols engaged,” he told you, his gaze raking over you behind the safety of his helmet. You looked tense, shoulders hunched, arms crossed. But your expression was almost worse, blank bordering on boredom. 

“I know,” you muttered, low and almost petulant. Resentful. Din frowned at that. He had explained this to you before, he had to keep you safe.

“I’ll be back tomorrow, day after at the latest,” he reiterated, watching you carefully. When you didn’t say anything, he sighed and nodded once. He grabbed his amban rifle and hit a button on his vambrance, striding out of the ship as soon as the ramp was low enough. Another button press raised the ramp again, and he waited until the ship was locked up tight to take off. 

This planet was sparsely populated, gently wooded with plenty of natural spaces for cover. Fortunately for him, Din was well equipped, and had been doing this long enough to ignore half the potential hiding spots as he travelled. 

Not entirely to his surprise, the quarry was not hard to find, and easier to catch. The man took off running as soon as he spotted gleaming beskar, and Din ran him down. This was good, easy even. Anticipating where a quarry might go, where he might turn. Plotting the fastest intercept course and executing flawlessly. 

Honestly, he’d been expecting more fight from this one. 

He snapped the restraints closed around the man’s wrists and pushed him along back to the new ship, already doing mental calculations. The downside to the new ship was Din hadn’t yet saved up enough to get a mobile carbonite unit installed. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to, or if he wanted to find another ship first. Something a bit bigger, a bit easier for two people to share. 

He’d have to fly back to drop off the quarry before going on to the next, was the point. It was annoying sometimes, sure, but it also forced him to go a bit slower. And it gave him the opportunity to spend more time with you. 

Din saw the smoke first, and his heartrate picked up. It was in the direction of the ship. Maybe you’d just needed to get out of the ship for a little while. He could understand that. Warm up next to a fire, rather than the engine. Okay. Maybe this was fine. Nothing to panic over yet. 

But he still picked up the pace, forcing the quarry ahead of him. 

Blaster fire caught his attention first, and his hand clamped around the quarry’s arm, dragging him along as Din broke into a run. 

There were men outside the ship, and one of them had hands on you. You looked both scared and royally pissed off - the whites of your eyes showing all the way around, teeth bared in defiance, still trying to kick the man holding you.

White hot fury coursed through Din, and he dropped the quarry without a care. The first blaster bolt hit one of the men between the eyes, and for a split second of confusion the rest of them stopped. Din pressed his advantage, taking down two more before they could react. He grabbed a third, twisting his arm until his shoulder popped out, and then kicking out his knee. The man fell, screaming, until Din kicked him in the head. Then he fell silent. 

And then there was one.

The last man standing was trembling, just a little, clearly unused to the fury of a Mandalorian. But he’d retained his grip on you, fingers digging into your arm. Din was still practically vibrating with fury, and he took one step closer before halting abruptly as a blaster was pressed to your head. You closed your eyes, breathing short and sharp. 

“I walk away, or they die,” the man said, though his voice was trembling, just a little. 

Din had no intention of letting this man live. Not after what he’d done to you. But he nodded slowly, biding his time, waiting for an opportunity. The man shuffled backwards, pulling you with him and keeping his blaster to your head. The man was an idiot, not even demanding that Din toss his blaster aside. Not that it would have helped. Not here. 

The man tripped, and his finger squeezed the trigger of his blaster, even as it moved. There were two, near simultaneous shots - one from Din, and one from the man. Din didn’t even wait to watch the body fall the rest of the way, instead pelting over to you to check you over.

The blaster bolt had hit your back at an angle, going clean through at that proximity. Din was pretty sure something vital had been nicked in there. Or, hell, something vital might have a brand new hole. 

“You’re okay,” he breathed, one hand cupping your cheek while his other hovered uselessly over your wound. “You’ll be okay. Stay with me.” 

“Din.” You grabbed his wrist, grip not quite as strong as usual. Were you getting weaker already? Maker, no. 

“I’ll get you to help.” Din carefully picked you up, cradling you against his chest even as you made an awful, wrenching, pained noise that he never wanted to hear again. He already knew it would haunt him for the rest of his life, no matter what happened next. “Stay awake for me.” He strode into the ship, carrying you straight into the cockpit with him. He wasn’t willing to let you go, wasn’t willing to put you down. 

“It’s okay,” you whispered, gaze focusing on him before losing focus again. You were trembling, probably in pain and shock.

“I’ll get you to help,” Din repeated, punching in coordinates with one hand and starting the take off procedures. His other kept you close. He’d be fast enough. He’d get the ship into space, and then find a med kit to stabilize you. He’d be fast enough. He had to be. He had to.

Or, this is how it could have ended...

The man tripped over a branch, and Din shot him. He didn’t even wait to watch the body fall, just sprinting over to catch you before you could hit the ground. 

“Are you okay?” Din asked anxiously, one hand pressed to the center of your back to keep you upright, the other desperately checking you over for any injuries. “Did they hurt you?”

“I’m okay,” you said, eyes still wide and breathing still short. “I’m okay, Din.” You threw your arms around him, beskar and all, and hugged him tight, trembling. 

Relief flooded him, so intense and immediate that Din almost didn’t notice his quarry attempting to leave. Almost. Din turned his head and grabbed his blaster, taking a moment to aim before firing. The quarry fell with a blaster bolt to the thigh. That would keep him from running, at least for now. 

And for now, that was enough. Din clutched you close, letting his heart rate return to normal, letting the feel of you reassure him. Everything was okay. Everything would be okay. It had to be. It had to be.

--

@saradika @anaaaispunk​ @quica-quica-quica​ @queridopascal​ @fandom-blackhole​ @shoopidly​ @pedrocentric​ @beskarprincessjenny​ @sarahjkl82-blog​ @cannedsoupsucks​ @liviiii98​ @adriiibell​ @seasonschange-butpeopledont​ @princessxkenobi​ @thirddeadlysin​ @pbeatriz @oonajaeadira​ @kiizhikehn-cedar @green-socks​ @withakindheartx​ @linkpk88​ @janebby​ @anditsmywholeheart​ @evyiione​ @ohheyitsokay​ @amneris21​ @recklessworry​ @the-feckless-wonder​ @kotemorons​ @myguiltypleasures21​ @javierpinme​ @grogusmum​ @eri16​ @idreamofboobear​ @pintsizemama​ @pedrostories​ @stevie75​ @luxmundee​ @kirsteng42​ @horton-hears-a-honk​ @reader-without-a-story​ @5pectre​ @alexxavicry​ @elegantduckturtle​ @litakino​ @soltaasbruxas​ @pjkimrn​ @jaime1110​ @trash-dino-5000​ @mandalwhorean​ @mswarriorbabe80​ 

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #whumptober #ish? #mwahaha

[etherealluminescence]

op, p l e a s e do this one.

gn-mc is a great fighter according to their profile, but everyone severely underestimates them, since they’re kinda short and they’re thinking it’s to human standards. as soon as they come though the three (Diavolo, Barbatos, Lucifer) realise that the number of fights have gone down, and that RAD is a lot more quiet. Apparently mc had fought all the trouble makers or scary students on a whim, and has forced like 30+ scary demons into pacts, and plans to conquer RAD’s bad students. on top of that, they’re just like “one day i’ll beat the shit out of diavolo too fair and square, and conquer him as well.” for the brothers and undateables. bonus if mc said they only started their “conquest” because someone tried to bully Luke, so they decided to just conquer the demons for him like a good? older sibling

Holy shit OP this is what I signed up for when I started doing headcanons. Recently I’ve been working on my actual novel but I am still writing these out! I decided to answer this first because the creativity just HIT me.

The part that killed me is just how they did it for luke, I love him like my own son. Also side note the goth theme on tumblr hits different I really like. WARNING - a little bit of language, and violence.

Everyone reacting to GN!MC “conquering” RAD’s demons

Lucifer

He had chosen you and noticed your profile, thinking that is was almost cute humans would consider a tiny thing like you strong.

He immediately brushed you off when he saw how close you were to the chihuahua, thinking that you too, are just like a tiny chihuahua then.

But he soon hears less and less about fights going around, and even Diavolo investigates with him, and he is beyond shocked. He severely underestimated you.

He finds out because he forced some lesser demons to talk, and they were in tears saying you forced them to make a pact with you each time they lose, and by your order they weren’t allowed to fight students anymore, or else you’d punish them.

Although it was the truth he didn’t quite believe it, so they followed you around for a day before realising it absolutely was, you kicked ass so hard, the demon was crying and unrecognisable, and you forced him into a pact while snot was even coming out his nose.

He then sees you open the door behind you and take Luke’s hand before walking away from the bloody scene you had just caused. He was slightly angry and a bit intimidated, how did you, a tiny human do that?

When he confronted you about it, you just held onto his shoulders tightly, answering with “I’ll conquer you too, I’ll conquer Diavolo, I’ll conquer all of RAD, fucker. I am going to protect this child with my life.”

He was about to argue back, possibly attack you, but according to all the students investigated, you had well over 50 pact marks by now, and Diavolo found it amusing, so you were let off with that.

He swears he won’t submit to you, and has to stay on high defense because even at the HOL you will try to attack him with murderous intent to get the pact. 0/10, wants a new exchange students.

Mammon

He was the first one you made a pact with, and afterwards he started following you around like a dog, despite literally calling Luke a dog.

He knew you were a good fighter since you kept saying so, but he kept telling you demons were another level, and you should be glad to have him.

You and Luke hung around a lot, while Mammon thirdwheeled, and finally came the day of your first fight. Mammon was ready to defend you, but you ordered him to sit as you beat the literal fuck out of the demon.

Mammon couldn’t tell if that was a lesser demon or a dismembered corpse at that point, and covered Luke due to all of their screaming in agony. When you were done, you kicked their head into a wall and demanded a pact, making him slightly pouty but happy he’s alive:

Getting the pact, you left and gave a head pat to both Luke and Mammon, telling them that they’re safe with you. Mammon didn’t like it at first but then he loved it.

It didn’t take Lucifer long to find out, and when you told him with such confidence that you’d “conquer all of RAD, including Diavolo” he was like woah!! You’re going to die for that, but you’re amazing!!

And then you didn’t die, because Diavolo found it funny, and you were only serving justice to those who cause mayhem at the moment, so it was fine. He also accidentally finds out that you rival Lucifer in power, and absolutely won’t let Lucifer punish him, because in your words, “Mammon is my property now, whore.”

You were the only person to protect him, and he absolutely loves you, he may be weaker than you, but he loves staying by your side and saying he’d beat people up for you anyways.

Leviathan

Levi never really talked to you at first, nor found out about the incidents because he didn’t go to school, but when he heard Mammon talking about it he thought he was exaggerating a lot.

Even Lucifer said you were strong, but he refused to believe it at first, even denying the pact marks you had. Until you beat the life out of Levi during the TSL games.

He got angry at you and tried to kill you, so you ripped him apart, quite aggressively. He swore his tail had bite marks in them, and that he couldn’t see out of his left eye for a week. The icing on top was you demanding a pact from him. He finally believed.

After you calmed, he made a pact with you, and was now afraid of you, until you comforted and apologized to him, telling him he did try to kill you first.

When Luke comes over one day, you invite him into Levi’s room, no permission, and start to talk, and when Levi tries to make fun of him, Mammon shuts his mouth.

“Luke is the whole reason they decided to start their conquest, the whole school knows that by now!” Mammon shushed him, and Levi began feeling a little jealous that the chihuahua got more of your attention than him. But when he hears that you ALSO want to conquer Diavolo, he’s just like !?!!??? You’re crazy.

But more than that you’re like some over powered anime protagonist who got sucked into a different world with over powered plot armor, Levi thought, and he really liked it.

Begs you to come with him when he’s trying to buy stuff in lines, so anyone who tries to cut gets the life beat out of them when they do.

Satan

Absolutely member #2 of your fan boy club, Diavolo being the first one in it.

He thinks oh yeah, you can fight sure. But when he witnesses it he absolutely loses his mind. A human shouldn’t be that strong, but the way you force a pact mark from them, and even defended the tiny chihuahua before leaving, while being tiny yourself, he was interested in how your body worked.

But what really excited him and made him like you is when Lucifer entered the room and you sent a flying kick to him, putting up a harsh fight as well, before you break the table when you were knocked into it, calling it a tie.

“I swear one day I’ll conquer you and force you to make a pact with me. I’ll wipe that smug look off your face, fucker. And once I do that, I’ll beat the shit out of your prince, too.” You spat, getting up and holding your back.

So now you went from protecting the chihuahua to devildom domination? Basically asks you to make a pact with him so you can use him to fight Lucifer. When you tell him you want a fair fight, and that you’ll beat Lucifer yourself, he’s just so excited because you held your own for five minutes, and Lucifer can’t even kill you!

Literally tags along each time you decided to fight Lucifer and cheers you on so hard. Will purposely try to make you and Lucifer run into each other at the halls, so you automatically try to hurt him.

Please tell him not to eat so much popcorn, we know the show is good but it’s like he has boxes of them now knowing you’re hating? on Lucifer like him.

Asmodeous

Has absolutely freaked out and began cowering in a corner, shaking, begging you anywhere but the face.

He came to watch the show of you beating up a demon, not realizing it was you at first. When he did, he was so shocked and got closer to make sure.

You mistook him for the demon’s crew who made fun of look and tried to attack, seeing red. He held his own for a minute, before you almost rip off his wing in one swing.

He’s begging for forgiveness like the demons, despite not doing anything wrong at all. When you calm and realize it’s just human, you make the other demons unrecognizable and get your pacts, before making your way to him.

He’s just crying not his face, while you just say “Pact mark.” Pointing out you won fair and square against him, too.

He gives it too you beyond willingly, just not his face, he doesn’t even think twice. Nodding, you take Luke’s hand and leave.

He has to leave too for then next class, but then sees Lucifer, Diavolo, and Barbatos confront you.

Is afraid for you but then you literally punch Lucifer and tell him you’ll conquer him, and then turn to Diavolo and declare his ass as your own, making Asmo secretly swoon but worried.

Actively tried to avoid you while at the HOL for awhile, but noticing your docile nature when you’re not fighting, he felt a little comfortable with you, and right now his only concern is how many callouses your hands are getting from punching thick skulls.

Beelzebub

This man wanted to believe you when you said you were a strong fighter in passing conversation with him, but he just couldn’t. You were the tiniest creature he’d ever seen, and he was so sure you’d crush under one of his hugs.

He heard you were protecting Luke from the whispers of lesser demons, but he didn’t think it was through fighting.

This all changes when on his way to practice, he watches you beat up one of his teammates so hard they��re crying, they’re so huge, and yet lost to you, and the fact you sent him flying and cracked a wall, by one kick.

When you said you wanted a pact mark, he was shocked the rumors were true. On top of that, Luke was near by holding a cake he planned to give Beel as thanks for something he did for him earlier that week.

He watched you wipe the blood off your hand and pat Luke’s head, with a gentle smile. When he came in, Luke ran to him and gave him the cake, and he learned everything.

You were the one subduing the demons around here, big or small, and even protected Luke. He even learned that you challenge three totally strong demons, Lucifer, Barbatos, and Diavolo.

He totally believed you could do it now, with what he just witnessed. He’s seen his fair share of fights with egotistical demons thinking they’re so tough just because they play sports, and he’s seen guys at the gym, you were beyond that.

You had speed, strength, and great perception. Wasn’t even mad that practice was delayed, and began going to the gym with you, and will happily play with Luke too, another older sibling figure for Luke.

Belphegor

When he exited the attic and tried to kill you he watch his brothers grab popcorn from the sidelines, as they said to him enjoy dying.

He was confused at first, but then got the LIVING HELL beat out of him, oh how the turns have tabled. He intended to murder you, but you nearly killed him.

You forced a pact out of him as well, kicking him repeatedly where the sun doesn’t shine until he agreed, understanding why even Lucifer stood back. It’s not because they wanted you dead, it’s because they couldn’t stop you.

When he gains consciousness later, he finds out Lucifer is the only brother you haven’t made a pact with, and that you have over 80 pacts at this rate, and that you even planned to conquer Diavolo.

He thought it was stupid at first but after seeing you fight Lucifer, with no cheats just your normal hands for combat, while Lucifer was in demon form struggling, he understood he really liked you.

“Soooo... when are you beating the shit out of Diavolo?” He asks, and he also nearly makes the mistake of calling Luke a dog before Beel puts a hand over his mouth.

Jaw nearly drops and he loses his mind when he finds out you only started beating the shit out of people to make Luke happy.

Diavolo

This man just fucking cackles, like after watching you fight, he’s just in full tears from laughing. He’s just clapping, and telling you that’s amazing.

When Lucifer asked why you did it, you stood tall despite your short stature, and looked him in the eye with no fear. “I’ll beat each fucker who approached Luke, I’m going to defend him with all my fists got, and if you get in my way, I’ll do the same to you.” You said, before turning to Diavolo.

You walked up to him, and pulled his tie down so he could meet your eyes, and declared, “I’ll even beat the shit out of and conquer you too, one day, prince. I’ll be the ruler of this place one day. Prepare yourself for that day, until then, I won’t stop:”

This makes him laugh, not belittling you, but telling you he can’t wait, and he hopes that day comes soon, because he wants to fight you as well, and he hopes you hold nothing back against him.

He loves how strong you are, he loves how you want to protect Luke, he loves that you only did it to protect, and didn’t even bother to summon a demon, you did it with your own style. That took guts, confidence, and the fact you told him of all people with that confidence you would one day conquer him, his heart fluttered.

He would definitely start watching over you, and probably fan boy over you. The first person to ever force the prince of the Devildom to lower himself; and they even declared they would be the one to make him their’s, by forming a pact mark. It was honestly amazing to him, and he likes it.

Barbatos

He really should of seen this coming, a new fighting student, who was clinging to Luke protectively, and suddenly all the bad demons were being silenced.

Guess there’s no need for his torture chamber anymore, you’re much more feral than whatever he does, he just needs to sick you on them.

Joking aside, he doesn’t really take it too seriously. It’s great you can get a lot of pacts, and defend yourself, and even want to conquer Diavolo by forcing him to give you a pact mark, but he knows you’re still no match for him yet.

To get to Diavolo, you’d need to beat him up, and he’s a bit of a harder fight than Lucifer, by that he means a lot, he won’t even flinch if you bite his tail when he grabs you by it and puts you out the room, with a smile on his face.

It’s become a game at this point for the both of you to try and fight each other, you trying hard to get a pact mark out of him. He even offered it to you at one point, but you told him you wanted to win it fair and square, and he’s just in love with you even more because of that.

He’s pretty much a dad to Luke, so he appreciates how kind you are to him, and appreciates how you have your own set of morals for fighting, making him know that if Diavolo were to ever make a pact mark with you, it would all be fine.

Solomon

“Hey... are you sure you’re not actually the demon?” Solomon asks you, looking at the sheer amount of pact marks on your body, one week after coming to the devildom.

He’s seriously impressed by you, considering how easily you beat up demons without any weapons, magic, or underhanded tactics. You simply use your fists and legs, sometimes your head, but you get the job done scarily.

He’s even more impressed when he finds out the reason, you were visiting purgatory hall and Luke was being rather loud. “I can’t believe that’s the 7th demon this week that fought with you! You’re just so cool, you’re so strong! Thank you for protecting me!”

Probably wants to try to enhance your strength with a potion, and offers it to you when you try to have your epic showdown with Diavolo, claiming he is the boss and Barbatos and Lucifer were his right hand men who dragged Luke into this mess.

You decline though, wanting it to be fair and square. Truly admires yet fears you. But then again, i don’t think you stabbing him would making him afraid of you. I don’t think this man can feel it at all, unless it was you dying.

Anyways, he’s delighted to ask the demons you make pacts with to make pacts with him as well.

Simeon

Nearly loses his mind at first. He’s so concerned if you’re hurt,, but then he’s just like wait what.

Luke had told Simeon all about it when he reached purgatory hall, about how you beat up a demon for him, and even promised to always protect him. Simeon is really distraught you may of been hurt protecting Luke while he was busy.

But then Luke tells him about how you forced a pact mark out of the demon, and you didn’t even break a sweat, and that is was the coolest.

He doesn’t tell Diavolo about this thinking it was just a one time thing, and tries to watch over you two more. But then he sees you and he’s literally just frozen.

Humans aren’t that powerful right? And when Lucifer Diavolo finally confronts you about it, he watches as you just stare him down and declare that you’re going to conquer him as well, to make Luke feel happy and safe in devildom.

Needless to say Simeon is extremely panicked about your well-being, but extremely happy Luke is protected by someone so kind to him. Probably doesn’t approve of the violence, but Luke adores you.

Luke

The first time you met him you told him not to worry about the demons, because if they ever bullied him you would beat the life out of them.

He thought you were just saying that, and he said that he too would protect you, which you found extremely adorable and nearly went “I’m taking this kid home with me and he’s my child now.” not that anyone could physically stop you.

He found out you were actually sincere about it when the two of you were alone in RAD’s hallway, trying to leave for purgatory hall since he invited you over.

You two were stopped by a demon, who tried picking a fight on easy prey, and it was quite frankly, the worst mistake of his life, ever.

You beat the LIVING SHIT out of him, and even told Luke to look away, because this man was beyond recognisable, because you were so small you could easily duck and move fast, so the demon didn’t even land one hit on you.

Just because he’s a demon, doesn’t mean his stamina is forever you figured, and beat him up, forcing him to make a pact with you. You had one with Mammon already, so you knew how it worked, especially knew you could have multiple due to Solomon.

When it was over, you told Luke he could look, and there was zero damage to you and he was just like woah!! You’re so cool! And from then on you stuck close to him, literally demolishing any demon he thought looked scary, or just stared at him for too long.

When Diavolo comforted you about it, you stared him dead in the eyes saying “I would literally beat the shit out of you for Luke, so you better hope he starts liking the devildom soon, fucker.”

Diavolo laughed and Luke insisted you didn’t have to go that far, but you just patted his head and said it was okay.

#obey me #obey me swd #obey me shall we date #obey me hc #obey me headcanons #obey me headcanon #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me Satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos #obey me solomon #obey me Simeon #obey me Luke

[marauderundercover]

This Side of Normal Ch. 8

AO3

Prev

Marinette was seriously considering murder. She was pretty sure Jason would be able to help her hide the body, he was a lot stronger than her. But murder was seriously on the table. Why has she decided to break that one golden rule, you might ask? Lila Rossi. The bane of her existence. The very reason they were spending two fucking weeks in the crime capital of the world instead of their original destinations. But no, Lila just had to convince Mme. Bustier to take them to Gotham. And then, as if making Marinette plan a million things last minute wasn’t bad enough, Lila decided to talk. Nonstop. Throughout the entire first half of their tour of Wayne Enterprises. The only thing keeping her from strangling the girl right now was the promise of coffee in the cafeteria. She didn’t need food, she needed coffee. And then she’d go right back to plotting murder. Would anyone look in the river for her body? 

“Whatever you’re thinking, I’m sure you shouldn’t do it.” Adrien says, pulling her out of her murder plot. She glares at him. 

“I’m planning a murder, and I don’t appreciate you interrupting me.” She deadpans. 

“Murder’s bad, Mari. We don’t murder people.” Adrien sighs, throwing an arm over her shoulders. 

“Maybe you don’t murder people. I’m thinking about branching out.” She hums, getting in the line for coffee. Adrien huffs and grabs her arm, tugging her behind him. She immediately starts whining, reaching out towards the coffee booth. 

“Mari, you need actual food. You can have coffee after you eat something. I know for a fact you didn’t eat breakfast.” He says, staring her down. She huffs, crossing her arms. 

“You’re not my dad.” She mumbles, turning away from him. 

“Why the hell are you all pouty?” Jason asks, walking up to the two. Marinette smiles briefly, then drops her face back into a scowl. 

“Someone is keeping me from my coffee.” She says. 

“Good job kid!” Jason says, high fiving Adrien. Marinette’s jaw drops at the betrayal. 

“Honestly rude. Guess I’m not gonna ask you to help me anymore.” She says, sighing dramatically. 

“Help with what?” He asks, frowning. 

“Murder. She wants to commit a murder.” Adrien says, rolling his eyes. 

“Who’re we killing?” Jason asks. This time it’s Adrien’s turn to drop his jaw, Marinette laughing loudly. 

“Ha! I told you Jay would help me!” She cheers, shooting Adrien a smug smile. 

“Marinette! Lila needs your help carrying her tray.” Mme. Bustier instructs, walking over to the trio. Marinette immediately frowns, looking over at Lila who was carrying a tray. Just fine. 

“Uh, looks like she’s got it.” She says, nodding towards the liar. 

“Well, she got it okay, but she needs someone to carry it to her table for her.” Mme. Bustier says, frowning. 

“And one of her friends can do it. I’m not getting out of line for my own lunch just to carry Lila’s tray Mme. Bustier.” Marinette argues, crossing her arms. 

“Marinette-” She starts, then stops when she realizes Jason isn’t one of the students. “Very well. But we’re going to talk about this later.” She adds before walking away. Marinette rolls her eyes. 

“Is she the one we’re murdering?” Jason asks, leaning down a little so he could whisper. 

“Nope. The one whose tray I was supposed to carry is the one on my list.” Mari says, nodding towards the girl who was now fake crying. 

“Jesus. How does anyone put up with her?” He asks, face curling in disgust. Marinette shrugs. 

“At first I thought she was Meta. Now I think my classmates are just idiots.” She says simply. Jason snorts. 

“I believe that. I’m gonna go grab you a coffee. As much as I’d love to help you commit a murder, pretty sure the boss would be pissed.” He says, ruffling her hair before walking away. Marinette turns to Adrien and gives him a smug smile. 

“Ha, bitch.” She says, snorting as he starts spluttering. 

“You can’t just say that, Bug!” He whines, before turning to order his food. Marinette snorts. 

“Sure I can.” She says in English, before quickly switching to Mandarin and lowering her voice. “I’m a seventeen year old ex-superhero, I’m allowed to say bitch.” Adrien just snorts, thanking the lady and grabbing his food so that Marinette can order. Once she has her food, she follows Adrien to an almost empty table in the corner farthest away from their classmates. She smiles at the person at the other end of the table, Dick Grayson. He was their tour guide and had dealt with their annoying ass class surprisingly well. She was tempted to make him a certificate if he lasted til the end of the day without losing his sanity. Plopping down in her seat, she starts eating her food slowly, watching Jason across the room at the coffee booth. 

“Mari, he said he would get you coffee. He’s gonna get you coffee.” Adrien says, nudging her side to try and get her to actually eat. 

“You don’t think he’d get me decaf, do you?” She asks, remembering the time he’d brought coffee to one of their late night training sessions. It was decaf then, he claimed that she needed to be able to sleep after training. She argued that she needed to stay awake and do homework and commissions and some lameass decaf coffee was not going to help her do that. She just hoped he would take pity on her and get her actual coffee this time. 

“I think I’d get you decaf,” Adrien starts, dodging her attempt to whack him. “But, I think Jay’s a little nicer than me today. Probably since he hasn’t seen us in awhile.” He muses. Marinette stops trying to attack him, nodding in agreement. He’d be more likely to give her decaf tomorrow than today. So it was still safe to trust her coffee order to him. For now. 

“I’m sorry, did you say Jay?” Mr. Grayson asks, catching her attention. She glances at Adrien who just shrugs. She knew the two had talked earlier, but she really didn’t want to accidentally get Jay in trouble. 

“Uh, yes?” She says, wincing at the awkwardness. 

“You know Jason.” He says, and she nods, frowning. 

“Yeah, we got to know him last year when he was on a business trip in Paris.” She explains, dodging around the whole ‘he trained us as heroes and then found out our identities and helped us take down a supervillain’ part of it. “We ended up getting close and we’ve kept in contact over the last year.” Mari adds, confused as to why Mr. Grayson looks so lost. 

“Really?” He finally asks. 

“Yeah. He’s basically like our big brother.” Adrien adds, obviously sensing that Marinette was getting uncomfortable. 

“Hey Dick, long time no see.” Jason snarks, putting Mari’s coffee in front of her and plopping down in the seat next to Adrien. 

“Jason. So you have two new siblings?” He asks, gesturing to Mari and Adrien. Jason nods. 

“Yup. And they’re loads better than you lot. Pixie Pop here even said I could help her with her first murder.” Jason teases. Marinette’s face instantly heats up, as she turns her glare to Jason. 

“Jason!” She hisses. He’s lucky he’s on the other side of Adrien. 

“Wait, you two are brothers?” Adrien asks, and Marinette blinks. Oh, yeah. Wait, what. 

“You didn’t know?” Dick asks. Adrien looks at Mari who shrugs. She definitely hadn’t known. She’d assumed Dick was one of Jason’s bosses. 

“Yeah, unfortunately this dipshit is my older brother. Adopted, of course.” Jason says. 

“We also have two other brothers and a sister. And some unofficial siblings.” Dick adds, making Mari raise an eyebrow. 

“All adopted?” She asks. Adoption was no joke. It was crazy expensive in the US. 

“All but one. B kinda adopts every dark haired, blue eyed kid with trauma that he meets.” Jason says, smirking at Marinette’s face. 

“I’m feeling attacked right now. Are you attacking me? If anyone has enough trauma to be adopted by a serial adopter, it’s Adrien. Not me.” She says with a pout. 

“Hey!” Adrien objects. Marinette looks pointedly at his arm. 

“Your arm was cut off by your supervillain father who was an emotional terrorist for over three years. That’s a shit ton of trauma.” She says as he pouts. 

“Yeah, but if I get adopted in the US, I’d never see you anymore.” He points out. 

“But you’d see me all the time.” Jason teases. Adrien grins. 

“That’s right! Okay, sorry M, I’m gonna get adopted here.” He says with a wide grin. 

“Traitors, the both of you. Mr. Grayson, how’d you like a new little sister? I’m officially disowning both of these losers.” Marinette says, ignoring the indignant squawks from Adrien. Dick snorts, a wide grin stretching across his face. 

“Sure kid. And call me Dick. Do you happen to know any acrobatics?” He asks with a teasing grin. Mari smirks. 

“As a matter of fact, I do.” She says. Dick freezes before a huge smile makes its way onto his face, his whole body shaking in excitement. 

“Wait, really? You’re serious?” He asks. She nods. “That’s awesome! Sorry Jay, I’m stealing this one.” He says. Jason scowls. 

“I don’t think so. I’ve known Pixie Pop longer, therefore, she’s my sister.” He says. Adrien clears his throat. “Our sister.” Jason amends, nodding to Adrien. 

“But she’s an acrobat! You know I’ve been looking for someone to teach trapeze to!” Dick whines. Mari’s eyes light up and she starts bouncing in her seat. 

“Wait, trapeze? Seriously? Where? Oh my god, that would be so much fun!” She squeals, suddenly actually excited about being in Gotham. 

“We have one at our house, you guys have to come over! I could show you the basics.” Dick suggests, still grinning. Marinette turns to Jason, waiting to see what he’d say. If Dick didn’t know Jason, she’d never consider going over and learning trapeze. But since he’s Jason’s brother…..

“Ugh, fine. But if B ends up trying to adopt both of you, you can’t blame me. I wanted to keep you away from him. You’re the one who got suckered in by the damn trapeze.” Jason gripes, leaning back in his seat. Marinette just grins at him before turning back to Dick to figure out the specifics. Maybe this trip wouldn’t be that bad.

Next

Tag list (open): @toodaloo-kangaroo @laurcad123 @kittenmywaythrulife @lost-in-the-world-of-maribat @queenz-z

#maribat #maribat jason todd #maribat dick grayson #maribat marinette dupain cheng #maribat adrien agreste #maribat platonic adrienette #platonic maribat adrienette #fanfic #maribat fanfiction #maribat fanfic #platonic jasonette #This Side of Normal #ao3fic #daminette #but they haven't met yet #maribat big brother Jason Todd #akuma class goes to Gotham #maribat gotham fic #maribat but make it all left au #platonic dickinette

[oliviayamaoka]

Heartfelt Deception Continuation (Joey / The Legion x F!Reader)

Joey x Reader Angst!!!!!!

Hi! I’ve been busy working and getting ready for university but I’ve been DYING to finish requests! I wanna put my heart and soul into the requests so sorry if it takes long! Working on finishing the Doctor stuff after this!

Anyways, general plot is you see Joey again but your reunion is short lived!

You weren’t sure how long you’d been in the Entity’s realm at this point. It felt like years but must’ve been a few months. It feared you apart on the inside thinking about all those you left behind. What terrified you most was the thought of you actually being dead. Were you just a husk being punished in this purgatory? This hell? What the hell did you even do to deserve this? You sighed deeply and looked upwards.

You awaited the trial. It had been almost two weeks since you were chosen to participate in a trial. You cherished every moment not being in those twisted games. A shudder ran through your spine remembering your last trial. You awoke in a bathroom with Kate Denson. There were devices on your heads and the voice of a man spoke, telling you that he wanted to play a game. While you and Kate played that awful game, the other two were doing generators. You got the trap off of your head but Kate wasn’t so lucky. It was terrifying but you couldn’t forget the image of the woman in red. The woman who wore a pig’s head as she chased you.

“Y/N?” A guy said to you as you jumped. You recognized the guy as Quentin Smith. He was around your age and you two talked before.

“Oh, hey.” You said with a smile, a nervous one.

“Are you, like… alright?” He asked you as you nodded.

“Just nervous.” You said to him.

Quentin was friendly but he looked extremely tired. He came the same time as the dream demon? You hadn’t personally fought this demon but you hated what you heard about him. But, you did remember where they came from. Elm Street, was it? Despite the atrocities that occurred here, you loved hearing about where all these mysterious people came from. He nodded in response and looked around.

“Yeah, me too. I, uh, heard that we might be fighting that ogre…” He said. You saw the fear in his eyes when he began to remember his own trauma fighting these creatures and murderers.

“Which one?” You ask, trying to lighten the mood as he chuckled quietly.

“The samurai one.” He said as you nodded. Y/N only fought him once. A hulking samurai who beat her down in an instant. You cringed, remembering the blunt force trauma on your back. Quentin noticed how uncomfortable you looked and cleared his throat.

“Anyways, yeah… it’s just gonna be me, you, Bill, and… Ace? I dunno, they’re old so I don’t really know how to talk to them.” He shrugged.

“Well, I have faith we’ll be fine. Bill might look old but you should see him in action.” You said with a grin. Bill once refused to leave you behind, carrying you on his back and throwing you out the exit gate once. Since then, you admired him and always had his back.

“Yeah, he’s a fighter, isn’t he?” Quentin asked as he yawned. You were about to say something but the familiar, cold fog surrounded you guys.

“Come find me.” He quickly said to you as the fog completely engulfed you.

You shut your eyes tightly, opening them again when you were sure you were in one of the realms. Your hair blew slightly when you looked around. This place seemed foreign to you. It was a hospital of some sort? Not Crotus Prenn. Y/N looked around, crossing her arms tightly. The hallway looked old, dirty, and bloody. In one of the many rooms were chairs and bathrooms?

Y/N shivered and peaked down the hallways. You didn’t see any of your teammates. As you walked into the waiting room, you saw a paper on the ground. You kneeled down and picked it up.

“Leary’s Memorial Institute exposé.” You mumbled, instantly lighting up when you realized this must’ve been the realm that belonged to the infamous Doctor. You didn’t fight him yet but you heard how he fought survivors. Electric blasts? The place seemed massive and long. You then remembered what you heard your friend say. ‘Come find me.’

“Quentin?” You called out, not too loudly in fear that the killer was around. When you got no response, you just began to quietly speed walk to the generator you spotted down the hallway.

You kneeled down, wasting no time in getting to work on it. The repairs came naturally to you. And when you were so focused on survival, you were determined on fixing this generator. The generator sparked and as you continued to fix it, it became more and more loud. At this point, you didn’t care if the killer heard you. You just wanted this generator to be completed.

Or at least you thought so, anyways. Your concentration broke when you heard a scream nearby, it must’ve been Ace? Your finger slipped and the generator blew up. Y/N covered her face as she rapidly stood up. You felt dazed for a moment and heard something sprinting towards you, you quickly turned around. You gasped loudly, holding your arms up in defence as you felt something slash through your forearm.

You let out a scream as the figure immediately stopped. Y/N stumbled a bit, panicking at the slash on your arm. The killer had been one of the Legion members. You immediately forgot about the rapid bleeding from the wound when you looked at the killer. It was Joey. He seemed frozen in place, immediately regretting his actions. He held his knife as he stared at you, breathing heavily from the fatigue he got from his frenzy. Joey wasn’t thinking straight earlier, he always had a temporary migraine whenever he finished his frenzy.

As he was about to reach out, a chair was thrown at him. It was Ace. He had a slash on his back from Joey’s knife. With confidence, he spread his arms out. Ace seemed somewhat pissed off too. Joey grunted and snapped his eyes to his direction.

“Come pick on someone your own size, pal.” He said as Joey switched the way he held his knife.

“Run, kid!” Ace yelled at you.

You looked at Joey before nodding and quickly breaking into a sprint. Joey watched you, feeling frustrated at his situation. He quickly began to chase Ace, wanting to hook him and find you as fast as possible. Y/N continued running and vaulting into random rooms. You held your forearm, losing more and more blood. Y/N eventually stopped running, feeling exhausted and lightheaded.

You kneeled down, biting your lip hard as you pressed your forearm into your shirt. It stung and the sight of your own blood was making you panic. In fact, you didn’t even realize how much sound you were making, breathing heavily and crying. When you heard footsteps beside you, you basically shrieked but quickly realized it was just Bill.

“Ah, shit.” He said, throwing his cigarette to the side. He kneeled down beside you and looked at your wound.

“Quentin, get your ass over here!” He yelled. You covered your mouth with your other hand as Quentin entered the room, carrying a medkit he must’ve found. How did he always manage to find a medkit? You didn’t care right now.

“Are you okay? I mean, obviously not but…” Quentin said, quickly opening the medkit for Bill.

“It stings.” You said.

“Who was it?” Bill asked, taking your wrist as he began to quickly clean your wound and mend you. You shook your head.

“I-I don’t know… he’s after Ace right now.” You said. The three of you heard the familiar scream of Ace in the distance. He must’ve been hooked.

“Not anymore.” Bill huffed as he wrapped a bandage around your arm.

“There was no alcohol or stuff in it, sorry.” Quentin said as you nodded.

“He’s one of the faster ones, though.” You said as Bill helped you up. He has his usual mean mug.

“We best split up and work on seperate gene. If you see the bastard, you better man the hell up and run for the sake of the rest of us. I’ll get Ace. You kids work on fixing these godddamn machines.” Bill said in his usual gruff tone.

“Yeah…” Quentin said nervously.

“Okay… got it.” You said as the three of you quickly ran in seperate directions. There was no need for small talk with no generators completed yet.

You ignored the pain of the wound. Not because of your objective but because he was here? What the hell were the odds of seeing him again? Why didn’t he just kill you in Ormond? Maybe, it was a deception trick? You didn’t know and it was starting you drive you crazy. He even shows you his face. His face! You never forgot what he looked like. You also never forgot how he felt, sitting so close to you and comforting you? You felt your face heat up at the thought but got angry thinking about how it just could’ve been a lie.

You walked back to your generator, quickly going back to work on it. As you kneeled down, you yelped as you were pried off of the generator. Y/N panicked as the gloved hand covered her mouth.

“Please don’t scream!” You heard the familiar voice of Joey say to you. You struggled but quickly stopped, curiosity getting the better of you.

You quickly ripped away from him when he let you go. You turned around, eyes wide and your posture tense. Joey tilted his head, taking in your features as his shoulders loosened. It felt so intoxicating for him to finally see you again. He pulled his hood back and took off his mask. You still felt on edge when he did so. Joey knew he didn’t deserve to act so friendly but still, he smiled seeing you again.

“Look… I know things look bad right now.” He began as you furrowed your eyebrows.

“Bad…?!” You whisper shouted.

“I’m sorry, okay?! I didn’t mean to…! The Entity makes me and my friends go into this weird ass bloodlust state where we want you just stab everything in sight, I stopped as soon as I recognized you!” He explained, rambling a bit.

“Stopped, huh?” You questioned, mad about your wound. It was pretty deep. He sighed deeply, holding his head in frustration.

“Look, I could’ve done so much worse than that, okay…? I just, I’m sorry, okay?” He said.

“You don’t sound that sorry.” Y/N replied, you crossed your arms.

“Man, just bare with me, aight? I’m not used to saying stuff like that.” He said, clearly flustered.

You let your guard down and stared at him. Of course, you still felt extremely scared knowing he was one of the killers but he felt so… relatable? Funny, almost. Why was Joey even a killer? What did he even do?

“It’s okay.” You said after a few silent moments. He looked at you.

“Really…?” He asked, a bit dumbfounded.

“Yeah… it’s fine, it doesn’t hurt anymore.” You mumbled awkardly as he stood up straight again, putting his knife away.

“I doubt that but still… it’s nice seeing you again.” He said with a geeky smile. Your eyebrows lifted in surprise as you held your worst to your chest, looking around.

“I-um… why aren’t you trying to kill me…?” You asked in a quiet, awkward voice. It felt so strange speaking to other people your age. Quentin was fine but this was Joey.

Joey stared at you for a second. Not even he knew the answer to that question yet. Well, he didn’t but he didn’t want you outright tell you that he had a crush on you. He scratched the back of his neck and nervously looked around. He wanted to shoot his shot since he wasn’t sure if he’d see you again for a long time but he didn’t want to rush things and make you uncomfortable. Not that he cared, if this thing between you two was possible then he’d be as patient and respectful as he could.

“I think you’re cool.” He replied as you stared at him. You blinked a few times in both shock.

“You think I’m cool…?” You questioned.

“Yeah, yeah… you don’t like that?” He asked.

“No, I do, but… you’re a killer.” You said, your eyes wide with fear subconsciously as you looked at him.

Joey felt a sting in his chest with the way you were looking at him. But, you were right. He was indeed a killer. Fucking Frank, he thought to himself. If it weren’t for him and Julie pretending to be so badass, he wouldn’t be here. Although, he probably wouldn’t have met you. He deserved to be here for helping them kill that janitor. Joey knew it deep down but he wanted to preserve the image of himself he wished he had. A geeky Canadian teenager. Something he once was before he hung out with the wrong crowd.

“I know I’m a goddamn murderer, okay?! I wish I wasn’t but I had no choice!” He snapped. You seemed taken aback by his sudden outburst.

“I’m sorry, I…” Y/N stammered as he shook his head, sighing deeply.

“No, it’s fine… my bad. I’m just used to getting mad easily ‘cause of my friends. I dunno, you just miss social cues when you hang out with the same three fuckers.” He said.

You fumbled with your hands nervously and looked towards the waiting room. You thought for a second before clearing your throat.

“Um… wanna sit…?” You asked nervously as you pointed towards the waiting room. Joey stared blankly before looking at you, surprised by the suggestion.

“Uh, yeah, definitely.” He nodded eagerly as he followed after you.

You walked into the room and sat down on one of the chair, putting one leg over the other. Joey seemed much more confident when sitting, getting comfortable with his arms crossed and legs spread. You didn’t know why but you smiled at how comfortable he quickly got. Joey was a mystery, an interesting one to say the least. Y/N looked around at the walls.

“So… how are you…?” You say.

“Chilling, I guess… you?” He asked.

“Surviving.” You joke as he chuckled lightly.

“Sorry, I gotta ask… what do you survivors even do after the trials? When I first got here, I thought you would all be dead permanently.” He said to you.

“Oh, uh, there’s like a campsite? We get our own tents and supplies. We kinda just explore the woods and dreadfully wait for the Entity to choose the unlucky four.” You explained.

“Unlucky four, huh? Why are you here?” He asked you. Y/N shrugged lightly.

“Honestly, I don’t know… I was happy and free until the fog came. I’m starting to lose track of the days.” You said.

“Me too.” Joey said with a deep sigh.

“Why are you here…?” You asked nervously.

“Me? Uh… fuck. Look, I’ve been doing some self-reflection and getting in touch with like, emotions and shit. I know what I did was wrong but it was Frank’s fault. And Julie influenced his dumbass… if only they didn’t think they were fucking Harley and Joker.” He muttered.

“What happened?” Y/N asked.

“I—or we, killed a janitor… it was some older dude. Me and Susie didn’t want to but I dunno, I never thought peer pressure was real but… I guess I was just scared shitless when I saw Frank with that knife…” He said. You could hear the guilt in his voice as he leaned forward.

“And it could’ve been something we could’ve easily redeemed ourselves for but… that’s when the Fog came. I dunno… ever since I met you, I’ve just been thinking a lot.” Joey said.

“Me?” You ask as he looked at you.

“Yeah… not in a weird way but, you’re cool and normal… something I don’t find often nowadays.” He shrugged as you nodded, your heart thumping from how flustered you’d become.

“So, who’s this Frank?”

“Frank? Well, he’s my bro. My best friend, as you people would say. I dunno, he was kind of a loser now that I think of it but ride or die, amirite? Anyways, I always knew he was kind of crazy. And Julie too. I never liked her too much, she was always kinda bossy. Especially towards Susie.” Joey explained.

“Anyways, we formed the Legion. It was us four against the world for a bit. Quite literally now that I think about it. I think the Entity changed Frank… he’s more… violent now? Literally doesn’t even listen to reason anymore.” He said.

“Sounds like an asshole, sorry.” You said as he smiled.

“He is, don’t worry.” Joey said.

“So, that’s why you’re here? You got scared and were forced to do something? That’s such bullshit.” You said, looking at him.

“Yeah, I guess so…. I’m really nothing to be scared of.” Joey said before falling silent, holding his head for a second when he heard whispers in his head.

“Are you alright?” You asked.

Joey felt the Entity’s anger with him. At times, it was scary. He remembered what happened to Susie when she didn’t comply with what it wanted her to do. It just twisted her even more and made Frank into a complete monster. He shut his eyes tightly. Joey wasn’t making an effort to sacrifice anybody and the Entity was growing tired and bored with this trial.

“I’m fine, just fatigue is all…” He lied.

“But, um… yeah, thank you for opening up to me about that stuff… and for your gloves.” You said, smiling warmly. He looked towards you.

“You remember that?” He asked.

“How could I not? You’re still my friend. A good one, at that.” You say, grabbing his hands softly and standing him up. Joey wished he didn’t have his other set of gloves on so he could feel your skin.

“I was gonna suggest you drink some water slowly but… there’s none.” You said to him.

“Real smart.” He sarcastically laughed with a grin. You smiled too.

“Please, I literally forgot we were in hell.” You said.

“Oh, this is hell?” He asked, becoming a bit more bold when it came to flirting with you.

“Maybe.” You replied with a smile.

You frowned when he held his head again. Joey grunted at the sudden sharp pain in his head, a migraine worse than when the frenzy ended. You put your hand on his shoulder, watching him with concern as he grit his teeth. Why they hell was this happening now? Why the fuck did the Entity suddenly care so much? Joey knew what it wanted. It wanted it to hurt her.

“Y/N…” He muttered.

“Uh, what’s up…?” You asked in concern.

“I don’t think it wants us to waste anymore time.” Joey said, wincing from the pain and becoming more overwhelmed when the whispers grew louder. Y/N couldn’t hear anything.

“What? The Entity?” You asked.

“Listen, you should just… run, okay? Go do a generator or something.” He said before he cried out in pain after finishing his sentence.

“Joey?!” You asked with panic in your voice.

“Fuck…! Quit it, you motherfucker!” Joey yelled at the Entity, holding his head. You rubbed his back, totally unsure of what to do.

“I-It’s okay…! Don’t listen to it!” You said to him.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry.” Joey said to you when you suddenly felt a sharp pain plunge into your stomach. Your eyes widened as Joey stood tall, aggressively twisting the knife before pulling it away.

You coughed out blood onto his chest, clinging to his shoulders when you felt yourself lose blood rapidly. Joey pushed you back, slashing again at your chest. In that moment, he felt rage, anger, sadness, regret, shame, and guilt. But, the bloodlust he felt was even stronger than what the frenzy made him feel. He couldn’t control it. The Entity did. You wailed as you curled up, not expecting anything that just happened. Joey cleaned his knife off, putting his mask back on and lifting his hood.

Joey didn’t speak. He couldn’t even look at you when he picked you up. It made him feel even worse at how weakly you were wiggling. You punched at his back as hard as you could but you were ready to faint at any given moment due to the extreme blood loss. Joey shut his eyes tightly once he got to the hook, hoisting you off of his shoulder onto it. Your eyes shot wide open at the hooked sensation. The hook shot adrenaline through your body as you tried lifting yourself up, letting out a scream as you hung there.

He couldn’t even bare to look at you. Even in his crazed state of mind, he seemed ready to just kill himself. Why did the Entity do what it did? He just turned and walked away as fast as he could. Due to the amount of time you wasted with Joey, the Entity just decided to kill you then and there. It didn’t want to wait for any of your fellow survivors to come and get you. It was bored and hungry. Joey began his frenzy once he heard the Entity finish you off, deciding to take his anger out on the remaining survivors.

You slowly opened your eyes to see Yui watching you intently. She seemed surprised you were awake and brushed your forehead. Beside her was Claudette who made sure you were okay.

“You’re awake.” She said.

“Yui…?” You asked, disorientated.

“You did not last long, at all.” She jokingly said as you sat up. Claudette seemed too shy to tell you not to sit up. You winced.

Usually, it would take a few days for all wounds to completely heal.

“You guys must have had a rough trial.” Laurie said as she kneeled down beside you. You looked towards the other three.

Quentin, Bill, and Ace seemed to be in a worse condition than you. Multiple bandages and bloodied wounds. Your mind immediately went to Joey. What had happened? You winced at the pain in your stomach.

“It’s a really deep wound. Just sit back and relax.” Laurie said to you as you nodded.

You thought about Joey. You remembered your last interaction with him, how he seemed unwilling to kill you. What did the Entity do to him? Would he be like that forever? You teared up at the thought of it. Joey didn’t deserve to be here, he was just like you and Quentin. He was normal. You shut your eyes and hopes that maybe you’d see him again. There was a sense of heartache within you when you thought of him now.

“Heard you had an amazing fucken trial.” Frank said to Joey, congratulating him but Joey wasn’t having any of it.

“Fuck off, Frank.” He growled at him as Frank held his hands up jokingly.

“Too much palettes dropped on your tiny brain, Joe?” Julie asked sarcastically, sitting close to the fire inside the lodge in Ormond.

“The Entity seemed happy with your trial, Joey. Maybe we won’t have to do one for a while.” Susie suggested, twirling her knife.

“Probably for the fucking best.” Joey muttered as Frank stood up, tilting his head.

“Why are you so riled up, man?” He asked.

“Just leave it, Frank. Joey’s becoming soft.” Julie said, rolling her eyes.

“And you’re not? We’re in a whole different fucking dimension!” Joey snapped.

“Why would I be? We get to do whatever we want.” Julie shrugged.

“I thought that way too… when I was a fucking kid.” Joey said to her as she glared.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Frank questioned him.

“You guys are still so fuckcing delusional… we can do whatever we want, really?! Even if we weren’t in his shit hole, we wouldn’t have had money, jobs, or a place to stay. I can’t believe I was that fucking childish to think this was paradise.” He said to them.

“Where the fuck is this coming from then, huh?! You just had a good fucking kill sesh and now here you are bitching like a fucking pansy.” Frank said to him.

“Kill sesh? Maybe, I am a fucking pansy for not wanting to be cool and edgy for killing innocent people.” Joey said, inches away from each other’s faces.

“Innocent people, huh? Who’d you see there, Joey?” Julie asked, a grin on her face. She seemed excited from the anger.

“Nobody.” He quickly replied.

“Was it somebody from school?” She asked.

“I didn’t see nobody, now fuck off.” He said.

“Ever since that one Ormond trial, you’ve been acting so fucken soft. We all noticed, Joey. You feel bad for one of those survivors, don’t you?” Julie said to him.

“They’re not worth feeling sorry for, Joey. They’re here for a reason and we have to punish them.” Frank said to him.

“How the fuck do you know that? Did that janitor deserve it?! Did Susie deserve this?! They sure as hell didn’t and neither did Y/N!” Joey yelled at them. Susie’s face lightened a bit. She also missed her old life but was often bullied by Julie.

“Y/N, huh? Must be one of those newer gals. You like her, Joey?” Julie asked him.

“Skip of the tongue, bitch.” Joey muttered.

“Awe, you finally found a girl. Frank and I were starting to think you’d be a virgin for eternity.” Julie said to him with a laugh.

“Shut the fuck up.” Joey said angrily.

“Whatever, she’s not worth it. She’ll probably end up as the Entity’s lunch by next week. Sometimes it kills survivors for good. Just imagine what it would do to somebody one of the killers cared for.” Frank said, smiling when the realization hit Joey.

“Awe, Joey’s showing emotion for once.” Julie teased. Joey felt scared for the first time in forever. Was it true? Would it kill Y/N because he cares for her in that way?

“Leave him alone, guys. You act like you’re not a couple.” Susie said to them.

“Oh, shut up. That’s different, we’re a group.” Julie rolled her eyes.

“Fuck you guys.” Joey said as he stormed off, leaving the other three. He needed to check up on Y/N somehow.

#dbd x reader #joey dbd #joey the legion #joey x reader #dead by daylight x reader #dead by daylight #joey dbd x reader #legion x reader #the legion x reader

[sunnyville36]

Mamihlapinatapai {part 4}

We're almost to the end!! Much love to all of you for reading 💜

Need to catch up? {overview} {part 1} {part 2} {part 3}

Pairing: Bang Chan x Female Reader

Themes: royal au, medieval au, court intrigue, arranged marriage, original characters, mutual pining, slow burn

Warnings: mentions of death/war/murder, mentions of torture (brief), mentions of physical abuse (brief), emotionally abusive parents

Rating: Mature

Word count: 5.4k

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Mamihlapinatapai - (noun, Yagán origin) a silent acknowledgement and understanding between two people, who are both wishing or thinking the same thing (and are both unwilling to initiate)

Instincts  |  Kingdom of Gu, present day

You’d slept maybe a total of twelve hours in the three days since the poisoning attempt.  Things were still tense between you and Chan after your outburst at the pond.  The king didn’t want him leaving the safety of his chambers, not knowing if there would be another attack on his life, which meant you only really saw him at mealtimes.  You’d tried to apologize for raising your voice at him a few times but could never manage to look him in the eye, always leaving the room before he could say anything more than a thank you for the food.  You were also avoiding him because you felt you’d revealed something in those words, a small part of the way you felt about him, and you weren’t ready to confront any of the implications from that just yet.  At night, you couldn’t sleep, your thoughts full of fear for Chan’s safety and concern for what would happen between Gu and Lajor.  So you’d spent the hours wandering the outskirts and corridors of the castle, lingering especially in the wing where the prince’s room was.

It was on the third night of your rounds, as you were walking the eastern side of the castle that faced the forest, the air humid and suffocating on your skin, that you spotted a flash of gold hair headed for the base of the closest tower.  You turned and followed the hooded figure as they approached the castle entrance, and the growing sinking feeling in your stomach was confirmed when their face caught the light.

You had to hand it to her, she either had a death wish or nerves of steel to show up here again.

Korenna was attempting to break through the bolt on the door when you pulled up behind her, bringing a hand to her mouth and a knife to her throat.

“I could kill you where you stand, and no one would protest at my decision.”

“You could, but I don’t believe you will,” she responded, voice calmer than you expected.

You whipped her around to face you, snarling in a whisper, “Don’t you dare use my own words against me.  I said that to you when I thought I could trust you, and you’ve made it blatantly clear that was a misjudgement on my part.”

“Y/n no please listen it wasn’t.  I know I was rude and standoffish - “

“Rude and standoffish?!” you repeated in disbelief.  “Sure that’s definitely what we’re talking about right now.  You know, I always thought maybe it was because you were a shy person, or because you were jealous, but, as it turns out, you just aren’t one of those people who likes to get really close to the person she’s trying to murder.”

Korenna looked like she was about to cry, leaning forward as if to grab at your arms despite the knife still pointing at her throat.  “Please, Y/n, that’s not what I meant, I can explain!  Do you really think you were so wrong about me; do you really think I could kill a man in cold blood?”

You shouldn’t even be entertaining her excuses, you thought to yourself.  She was trying to use your pride against you, to trick you into letting her explain herself so you didn’t have to admit you were wrong.  But, like always, as you watched her, trying to discern any ounce of deceit or malice, you found none.

You lowered the knife, stepping back and motioning for her to continue.

“You know that my father was crazy enough to try to invade Gu all those years ago.  What you don’t know is that he’s only gotten more delusional and power hungry over all these years, hell bent on taking down your kingdom as revenge against King Bang and completely disregarding the well being of his own.  Last year, I had been trying to gather support from the ministers, to show them just how corrupt, how evil he had become.  That was when my mother died and my father finally snapped, leaving me and my nine year old sister completely at the whim of his wrath.  He locked Paige away at some secret fortress and told me that if I didn’t agree to his plan of killing Prince Chan and wreaking havoc on your kingdom, he would leave her alone to starve to death.  He gave me three weeks to decide and I searched for her desperately, but at the end of it I was no closer to finding her and was forced to agree to the marriage he had arranged to initiate his plot.”

“Why should I believe any of this?”

“Because she’s here, right now.  We crossed the border with a small group of knights who are sympathetic to our position.  They wanted to help me, and I want to help you, but I had to make sure my sister was safe.  Now that she is, we can work together to protect your kingdom and hopefully preserve mine.”

You were silent, taking her and her story in.

“If you could just bring me to Chris, let me tell him all of this, apologize for what I did,” she pleaded, eyes begging even more than her words.

“Fine.  I will bring you to His Highness, and he will decide what to do with you.”

***

You led Korenna past the guards, neither of them giving you a second look when they saw it was you despite your concealed companion.  Chan was known for burning the midnight oil, and tonight was no different.  You could see the light drifting out from beneath his door as you knocked lightly, and were met with his quiet, “Come in.”

You opened the door, remaining in the door frame as he turned to face you.  “Your Highness, there’s someone here to see you,” you said, stepping aside and pushing Korenna in front of you before you followed in and shut the door.

Chan sat still for a moment, then leaned back in his chair, legs and arms crossed in his most casual yet intimidating pose.

“Unless my oldest friend has decided to kill me tonight, which I certainly hope is not the case, you must have had a pretty convincing reason for her to bring you here.”

Korenna remained silent, looking between you and the prince nervously.

Chan rolled his eyes, clearly frustrated.  “Well?  Let me hear it.”

She told him everything, about her father’s plot and her involvement, the threats against her sister, how she had support from the knights and probably a fair majority of the people as well.

“I know you could never forgive me for what I did, but I am truly, sincerely sorry,” she said, head bowed.

The prince seemed to be contemplating her story just as you had.  Finally, his voice broke the silence.

“Show me this sister of yours and then I will decide how we proceed.”

***

You walked next to Chan as you followed Korenna into the forest where her sister was supposedly waiting with the Lajoran knights.  You didn’t like this plan, knew if Korenna’s description was true, you and Chan would be severely outnumbered should things turn south, but Chan had insisted on only taking you with him.  He looked unusually pensive as you walked, and you decided to take this opportunity to give your apology, in case it happened to be your last.

“Your Highness,” you said quietly, “I’ve been meaning to tell you how sorry I am for how I spoke to you by the pond.  You were only trying to comfort me and I took my insecurities out on you and you didn’t deserve that.”

He put his arm out in front of you, stopping you in your tracks.

“Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?  Y/n, I’ve been trying to ask you for three days if you were alright and all this time you’ve been feeling guilty?  Please, please don’t feel that way, I would never blame you for what happened and I was never upset about our conversation.  Promise me you won’t keep anything like this from me again?”

You looked at each other and you nodded, both silently agreeing not to touch on the part of that previous conversation where you revealed something else you’d been keeping from him.

The two of you jogged back up to where Korenna had stopped at a small, raised hill surrounded by rocks.  It certainly was a good vantage point and hiding spot.  Once again, you hoped your instincts about this woman and her intentions would be correct.

Korenna led you around the corner of one of the rocks, and that was when you saw the young girl.  She was lying wrapped in a blanket despite the heat, and her hair looked dirty and matted.  The men sitting around her straightened as Korenna approached the group, but she held up her hand to show them you were on their side.  The girl lifted her head when she heard your footsteps, her gaunt face morphing into a smile at the sight of her sister.

“Korenna, you’re back,” she rasped as the elder knelt and wrapped her in a hug, and your heart broke at the sound of her barely there voice.

“Your Highness…”

“I know,” he said, reading what you were going to say from the tone of your voice, “we need to get her to Felix.”

You both approached the pair and you knelt down next to Korenna, speaking softly to the younger princess.

“Hello Paige.  My name is Y/n.  I’m a friend of your sister.  She’s brought you a really long way to make sure you’re safe, and we’re going to get you some help now so you can feel better.  Would that be alright with you?”

The little girl nodded, and you looked up at Korenna, silently asking permission to pick her up.  Korenna nodded as well, so you gathered Paige into your arms and began the trek back to the palace, some of the knights following along with you.  You looked behind you to see Chan place his hand on Korenna’s shoulder.

“Thank you for showing me.  Together we’re going to make this right.”

Conscription  |  Kingdom of Lajor, present day

“Your Majesty, the villagers are reporting they have no more men to send, and those in the city have been rioting for two days since the conscription announcement went out.  The knights can barely keep the peace and we have more and more deserters every day.  I’m just not sure we should continue hounding the people - ”

King Eunther looked up from his seat in the throne room, cutting the man off with a steely, impenetrable gaze.

“Sir Bavrard, do the people control this kingdom?”

“N-no, Your Majesty.”

“And do the knights?”

“No, Your Majesty.”

“Then please explain to me why you are suggesting we listen to the complaints of those ungrateful, insubordinate traitors over my own direct orders?!” the king shouted, Sir Bavrard cowering beneath him.

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty, I just don’t know what else we can do to compel such a large uprising - “

“I’ll tell you what you can do,” King Eunther snarled, rising from his chair, “you can tell them that if they don’t cooperate, you will bring them to stand in front of me and I will personally remove their head from their body.  Do I make myself clear?!”

32 men died that day.

Checkmate  |  Kingdom of Gu, present day

You entered the infirmary, walking over to where Prince Felix sat at the bedside of a much healthier looking Paige.

“Y/n!” she called, her head peeking around Felix’s shoulder to smile at you.

“Hello little princess,” you said, returning her smile as you came to stand beside Felix.  “I’m glad to see you doing much better.  Do you mind if I borrow your companion for a moment?”

“Nope!” she pronounced, going back to the book she’d been reading as Felix followed you to the corner of the room.

“You were right, her condition is much improved,” Felix said.  “I’m still a little worried about her malnourishment, but as long as she remains well fed and warm, she should be alright.”

“That’s good news; Princess Korenna will be glad to hear it.  She wanted me to thank you for tending to her, Your Grace.”

“I’m delighted to!” he exclaimed quietly.  “She’s got quite the personality in that little body of hers, kept me on my toes the last few days.”

As if on cue, Paige piped up from behind the two of you, “Felix, could I have that glass of orange juice you’d said you’d bring me?  I waited ten minutes like you said.”

“See?” he said with a smile and a raise of his eyebrows, turning to leave the room.  You followed after him, sending a wave and a wink to the princess on your way.

You headed back to the throne room, where King Bang, Chan, Korenna, Minho, and the rest of the head knights were gathered.  They’d been discussing their plans for the imminent Lajoran attack for a few days now, Korenna and her knights filling in any gaps of knowledge or speculating on Eunther’s strategies when they could.  You’d been in attendance as well, taking notes, marking maps, and giving suggestions every once in a while.  Battle planning had never been your favorite task; you couldn’t help but think about all the senseless loss that came from two men getting into a pissing contest over who should control what land or trying to ‘avenge their honor.’  Surely there had to be a better way, especially in this situation where it was clear the Lajoran people were not exactly in support of their ruler, to defeat a rogue king without the death of innocent people.

Entering the room, you caught eyes with Korenna, who walked over to meet you in the far corner.

“Prince Felix says she’s still stable, Your Grace.  As long as we keep her here and watch that she’s getting enough food, she should recover just fine.”

“Oh thank god, what a relief,” Korenna sighed, placing one hand on your arm and one over her chest.  “I can’t begin to thank you all enough for what you’ve done for us.”

Your ears perked at that.  Korenna seemed like she also despised the loss of innocent life, considering she hadn’t even been able to kill her father’s enemy despite her own sister being in danger.  Maybe you could suggest your proposal to her and she could advocate for it, as a way of repaying you all and preventing more death.

“Actually, Your Grace, if I may, there is something I was considering.  There may be a potential way to prevent an all out battle between our two peoples, if what you’ve told us is true about your father’s current standing amongst your citizens.  If you were to propose it, the others might take more kindly to it than if it came from me.”

Korenna didn’t say anything, so you took that as a sign to continue.  You explained what you had been turning over in your head for the past few days, checking a few of the details with her.  When you finished, the princess looked a little apprehensive.

“I am in total support of that plan, Y/n,” the princess explained.  “But I worry that if it comes from me, King Bang is going to reject it outright.  I can tell he is not as convinced of my intentions as you and Chris are.”

She had a point.  If the plan were to come from her, it would probably seem more suspicious, more likely to be a trap.  However, you feared the king wouldn’t consider you proposing such a plan to be much more trustworthy.

Korenna seemed to be reading that exact thought on your face as she said, “Why don’t you angle it towards Chris; I know he holds your input in high regard.”

You felt your heart tug at her statement, but pushed those thoughts to the back of your mind.  Korenna was right; you could do this.  You nodded at her and you both returned to the table.

The men were talking, so you tried clearing your throat, but that seemed to do nothing to get their attention.  Noticing your hesitation, Korenna interrupted.

“Gentlemen, I believe Y/n has something to say.”

You smiled gratefully at her then turned your attention to Chan.  If you could just remain focused on him you were confident you could explain your plan and maybe even convince them to buy in to it too.

“Your Highness, I’ve been thinking of a way that we could perhaps avoid any direct conflict with Lajor.  We already know that Her Grace has many supporters, as evidenced by our friends here.  And according to their reports, the people are in no position to support a war; this is all one man’s doing.  So if we can eliminate that one man, our problem would be solved.

I propose we arrange a meeting with King Eunther.  Somewhere neutral, away from the majority of our armies.  We frame it as a truce meeting, have him go into it thinking he will get some concessions from our side in order to prevent a fight.  In reality, we use it as a chance to capture him unawares.  Her Grace can confront her father, and if our information is correct, the knights and soldiers will take her side and we can end this situation with zero loss of life and a new friend on the Lajoran throne.”

You glanced at Korenna and saw she was smiling brightly at you.  Looking back at Chan, you could tell he was seriously considering what you had said, head pressed together with Minho in quiet conversation.  The Lajoran and Guan knights were murmuring to each other, indicating agreement with what you’d proposed.  The only person who appeared to be against it was King Bang.

“Using deception and ambushing a man has always been considered dishonorable,” the king spat, as if you had insulted the very foundation of the kingdom.  “Wars are meant to be fought on the battlefield and our army could easily outpace Lajor’s; there are expectations and traditions that should be upheld.”

It took everything in you not to scream at him, to unleash a lifetime’s worth of anguish caused by his ignorance and arrogance.  You’d had enough of hearing this man talk about all the noble pursuits of battle without ever having to face the consequences of one.  You turned to him, your chin held high.

“Forgive me, Your Majesty, but this is not about the “honor” of taking him down on the battlefield.  This is about not sacrificing the lives of men to maintain your own sense of righteousness.”

The room went silent at that.  You kept your eyes on the king, could feel him seething under his impartial expression.  Under any other circumstances, the punishment for what you’d just said would be severe.  But everyone in the room was starting to come to the realization that your plan had merit.  It would be faster, easier, less costly, and less deadly than simply bracing for an attack, no matter how “dishonorable” it might seem.  And even the king knew now was not the time to berate you, though you were sure it would come back to haunt you later.

You felt Chan press his hand to the small of your back, the sign of support giving you more strength.  “Y/n is right.  Even if we would be likely to take a victory in battle, her plan has the best chance of rooting out the cause of our problem here and now and placing both our kingdoms in a better position for the long term.  If anyone disagrees, they should speak now.”

Everyone kept silent, some nodding their heads in agreement with the decision.

“Then we shall prepare to execute it.”

***

You avoided the throne room as much as possible for the next few days as preparations were made, wanting to have as little interaction with the king as you could.  Chan had praised you after the meeting, had said he was proud you’d spoken up to his father.  You knew the prince had the best of intentions, but you also knew he could never understand what it was like to know that by doing what you did, you’d surrendered yourself to whatever punishment the king saw fit to assign after this ordeal came to an end.

A rider had been dispatched to Lajor to deliver the terms of your meeting.  In the letter, Gu had agreed to secede the western most portion of its territory as well as deliver half its military forces to Lajor.  The only stipulation was an in person meeting to sign the documents.  As suspected, King Eunther was too tempted by power to see through your guise, thin as it may have been.  The meeting was set for today at noon.

Armies from both sides were prepared, in case this peace offering did not go smoothly.  The plan was to bring you, Chan, Korenna, King Bang, Minho, the Lajoran knights, and a few members of your own royal guard to the meeting place, which was designated to be the same spot in the forest where the earlier attempt on Chan’s life took place.

Hours before the meeting, you were making your way through the forest as quickly and quietly as you could, bow strapped to your back and dressed in your most inconspicuous woodland attire.  You were to arrive at the grove early so you could take your position prior to anyone else arriving, or, in the worst case, report back if an enemy agent was attempting to do the same.  It was decided earlier that you would walk there alone, in order to leave as little trace as possible.

You didn’t mind the solitude as you meandered through the woods, trying not to leave an obvious trail behind you.  Before you’d left, Korenna had come to confirm with you the signal for your part of the plan.  Then, just as you were about to enter the forest, a voice called your name.

“Y/n!”

“Your Highness, you should be preparing with the others.”

“I know I-I just had to see you before you go.  To tell you goodluck.”

You looked at him and, steeling yourself for what you were about to do, tugged him into a crushing embrace.  He returned the hug, his head close enough to hear you whisper, “You too.”

Both of you were well aware of the hundreds of unspoken things behind the brief words you exchanged, but they were all that needed to be said for now.

You reached the clearing and found the tree with the best camouflage that had the vantage point you wanted.  Climbing up, you settled in for the long wait until the rest of the players arrived.

***

After about two hours, you heard the distinctive clopping of hooves coming from the direction of the Gu palace.  A few moments later, your friends came into sight of the clearing.  Remaining hidden, you watched as they fanned out into a semi-circle facing the direction of Lajor, King Bang and Korenna in the center.

Minutes passed and the Lajorans were nowhere to be seen.  It felt eerily quiet in the forest, and you began to worry King Eunther had caught on to your plan and was in the midst of attacking the city as you all stood here waiting for him.  However, after another few tense minutes, the Lajoran party arrived, consisting of King Eunther, his most trusted advisor Sir Bavrard, and thirty or so additional knights on foot, far more than the agreed upon fifteen.  You surveyed them as they formed a group behind Eunther.  Most looked anxious, like they weren’t quite sure what they should do in the event they were told to act, others seemed outright bored, and they all appeared to be sorely lacking in food and armament.  Just as Korenna had predicted, and just as you’d counted on for your plan to work.

“Sir Alfrey,” Eunther began, spotting Korenna’s biggest supporter on his horse beside her, “I should have known you’d be behind all this.”

Your friends remained silent, their expressions blank.

The king seemed slightly unnerved at the lack of response, and decided to try another tactic.  “So, am I to believe you brought my daughter here as a gesture of good faith, an additional item to be returned to me in the terms of our... arrangement?”

Chan’s even tempered voice rang out.  “She is not our prisoner; she came to us of her own free will.”

“And what of my younger daughter, Paige?”

“Don’t.  Speak.  Her name,” Korenna gritted out.

“Oh Korenna, you stupid girl; you’re the whole reason we’re in this unpleasant mess, so just stay quiet and let the men do the talking.”

You felt an angry coil rise in the pit of your stomach at his words, more resolved than ever to execute your plan and free Korenna from this abuse for good.  Taking your stance, you kept your eyes trained on the Lajoran king.

“No, father.  I will not stay quiet,” Korenna spoke again.  It had been agreed she would do most of the talking; the more riled up the king became the more reckless he would be, and his daughter talking back to him seemed to do the trick perfectly.

Eunther opened his mouth to say something, but before he could speak, Korenna continued.  “We did not ask you here today to sign a truce or give you any concessions to appease you.  We came here to put an end to this feud and an end to your rule.  You have irresponsibly and unjustly led our people, going so far as to torture and kill them when they do not agree with your machinations.  It is my obligation to remove you from the throne for the sake of our kingdom.  You will surrender to us now and I will walk our men off this battlefield and home to their families.”

You knew it would be your cue soon, your arm pulling back to anchor an arrow at the corner of your mouth.

“I think you can see my forces far outnumber yours at the moment,” the king said, gesturing to the knights behind him.  “And sadly you seem to believe our people are as disloyal as you are, an unfortunate misjudgement.  Why would I ever agree to your weak-minded, insolent little proposal?”

You let the arrow fly, and watched as it sailed just past Eunther, nicking his ear and drawing the tiniest drop of blood.

In the ensuing chaos caused by the seemingly rogue arrow, your team of knights rushed the Lajoran side, many of them laying down their weapons immediately in the face of the much healthier, much better armed Guan force.  You looked to see Minho drag Bavrard out from where he was crouched under the legs of his horse, lest an arrow attempt to find him as its target.  The other royals from your party remained safe in their position below and slightly to the left of your own.  Satisfied, you notched another arrow.

King Eunther put his hand to his ear, feeling the cut, and rose his gaze to find you perched in the treetops above.  “You missed.”

“I assure you,” you heard Chan say, “if she’d wanted it, you’d be dead.”

“I don’t want to kill you father,” came Korenna’s softer-edged voice.  “But if your choice is not to surrender, well, I’m afraid you’ve forced my hand.”

The smug look finally left the king’s face, his eyes darting around to see his companions abandoning him.  He got down from his horse, arms open wide in a begging posture mirroring his attitude that had shifted on a dime, hoping to win over his daughter with fake apologies and promises.  Damn, you thought, this man really doesn’t have a principled bone in his body.

“Korenna, daughter, please don’t do this.  I’m sure we can - “

An arrow landed in the grass between his feet.  He’d taken one step too close for your liking.

“Sir Alfrey,” Korenna instructed, “please take my father into custody.”

The king blanched as the knight dismounted and stepped forward, a steady stream of curses leaving his lips.

“I will get my revenge on you, you impudent little girl!  How do you think you will succeed in this plan of yours without me; you know nothing of running a kingdom!  You should watch your back, dear daughter, for I will always be lurking; I swear to you, you will never be rid of me!”

“Actually, father,” Korenna said, riding past him on her striking white mare, “I already am.”

Reign  |  Kingdom of Lajor, present day

Standing outside the palace gates hand-in-hand with Paige, you couldn’t keep the smile off your face.  You’d just exited the carriage that had carried King Bang, Chan, you, and the little princess back to her kingdom.  Korenna’s coronation was happening today, and luckily Paige had recovered enough to travel just in time to make it for her sister’s momentous occasion.

After Korenna had successfully confronted her father, she had made her way to the waiting Lajoran army and proclaimed there would be no battle.  They’d rejoiced and, unlike her father’s deluded assumption of the opposite, the kingdom had welcomed her as their ruler with open arms.  You and the others had returned to announce the good news to your own citizens, and to Paige, who was ecstatic at her sister’s triumph.  The last few days had been spent drafting amendments and additions to your trade agreements and foreign policy documents; with Korenna on the throne, Lajor and Gu’s relationship would transform from one of hostility to one of cooperation.  In all the bustle, you’d somehow managed to avoid a confrontation with King Bang over your behavior at the war table that day, but you couldn’t help thinking it was only a matter of time before the other shoe dropped.

You were ushered inside, hundreds of people weaving in and out amongst the beautifully decorated corridors as you found your way to the throne room.  You left the royals to take their seats at the front of the crowd while you went in search of your mother.

Many attendees from Gu, knights, servants, and citizens alike, had come to observe the ceremony, as a kind of display of support and camaraderie for your kingdom’s newly found ally.  You found your mother along the left side wall in a relatively uncrowded spot and took your place to watch your friend as she approached the priest who would bestow upon her the title of Queen of Lajor.

Between the hum of the clergymen reciting holy texts and oaths, you heard your mother whisper, “She knows not the sacrifice she makes to hold this position.”

You thought back to every conversation you’d had with Korenna, how in each and every one she demonstrated a profound devotion to her kingdom and her people.  “I think she does,” you responded.

“It must be daunting, knowing that responsibility sits on your shoulders from the very beginning.”  She saw your gaze shift from Korenna to Chan, seated at the front of the room next to his father, looking proudly up at the princess.

“I can only imagine.”

She paused, then continued, “Do you think you could bear that burden?”

Your mother was well aware of your feelings for the prince, had been since you tearily confessed to her the night of your one and only kiss.  So you knew what she meant.  Knew the question she was really asking, the question you’d pondered yourself more times than you could count.

Would you sacrifice the relative freedom you enjoyed now, agree to be beholden to a people and their wellbeing, in order to be with Chris, the man you loved?

Surprised at this line of questioning though you were, you answered honestly.  “If given the chance, I would bear it a hundred times over.”

Your attention was drawn back to the ceremony then, the priest announcing in a booming voice that Lajor had a new queen, Queen Korenna Dormio, first of her name.

The crowd erupted in applause, and you saw Paige dash up the dias steps to wrap her arms around her sister.  You felt the presence of eyes on you and looked to see Chan, his head turned to smile at you in the crowd.  You smiled back, and the answer you’d given your mother rang in your mind, as true as you’d ever felt it.

You would give anything for him.

{part 5}

#stray kids #stray kids fanfiction #bang chan #bang chan fanfiction #bang chan fanfic #bang chan fic #bang chan x reader #bang chan imagines #bang chan fluff #bang chan smut #stray kids fic #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagines #skz #skz x reader #skz fanfic #skz fic #skz imagines #skz fluff #skz smut #royal au #alternate universe

[ethanesimp]

THE OAK TREE // ZERO E.T. 

Pairing: Ethan Torchio x GN! Reader

Summary: Everyone at the Oakes Academy is aware of the rivalry that exists between two of the school’s best students, Ethan Torchio and Y/N L/N. What nobody knows is what a brilliant team they are when they’re at risk of their reputations being damaged and a killer’s on the loose.

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: Just Ethan and Y/N behaving like children, mentions of killing someone (as a joke), swearing.

Masterlist // Taglist link in bio

TEASER

A/N: This is the first chapter of The Oak Tree! I hope you guys enjoy :) Huge thanks to @night-girl-301​ for proofreading this and cheering me on! I was like... scared as shit to post it so yeah.

Taglist (strike means it won’t let me tag you):  @oro-e-diamanti @gretavanfleetlove @victoriadeangeliswifey @cheese-toastie-11 @selenophiliaxx @superchrystaldrug @petit-poussin @bidet-and-legolas @fallingforyou123 @ethaneskin @soft-boy-ethan @teenyweenynightghost @reputationdamiano @cantaraiilmionome @tabi-toast @queen-of-brokenhearts @geklutst-ei @juststalking @cruz-ata @ohtorchio​ @ethan-torchio-angelo​ @unitermoonshine​ @everythingisdefinitelynotfine​

It was only a few minutes past two-thirty when you managed to open the door that led to the greenhouse. The key, more often than not, would get stuck in the lock, and you’d have to spend a few minutes trying to yank it free, but this time around luck seemed to be on your side.

You placed your large black backpack on the stool that was always by the door before closing the entrance again. Mr. Murphy was still watering the plants, completely oblivious to your presence thanks to the loud music coming from the small stereo he kept near the gardening tools. You tapped his shoulder gently not to startle him; it wouldn’t be the first time you’d come into the place unannounced and you didn’t want to be the reason why he had to walk around with a cast on his arm again. 

He smiled fondly at you and adjusted his large glasses that were starting to slide down his nose. Mr. Murphy was an old man with long white hair and kind blue eyes, he’d been in charge of the greenhouse at the Oakes Academy for almost twenty years and had been the first person to show you kindness after you first arrived at the place years back.

“I thought I told you to take the afternoon free, Y/N,” He shook his head disapprovingly and you could only shrug. You had to work at the greenhouse at least three hours a week to maintain your scholarship per the Academy’s rules and it’d been long since it stopped being a task and instead became your favorite part of each day. 

“We were let out of Philosophy earlier so I thought I’d come by before I go study. Can I help with anything?” The older man sighed but nodded. He adjusted his glasses once again and wiped the dirt from his jeans.

He pointed at the corner where all the pink anthuriums were kept, shielded from direct sunlight, “Please water those, put a bit of fertilizer on the ones that arrived on Wednesday, and if you’ve got time, can you please feed the worms?” 

“Sure thing, anything else?”

“Just those three things. I’ve got to go help unload the groceries so please lock up both doors once you’re done,” He asked with a smile on his face as he buttoned his coat and grabbed his walking cane from where he’d dumped it on the floor right next to him. Back when you’d only known him for a few days, you’d always rushed to his side to pick up his cane and help him, but quickly realized it was a thing that annoyed him because of how independent and stubborn he was. “Oh and, before I forget, the kid’s outside. I don't want to come back and see you two trying to tear each other's heads off."

A laugh escaped past your lips and you shook your head as you tilted your head to the side so you could look through the hole in one of the windows. Just like he’d said, the boy with the long hair was sitting outside by the oak tree reading a book. You looked back at Mr. Murphy and shrugged, "No promises."

"I'm serious. You're smart Y/N, and I'm pretty sure you could easily find something you've got in common. That much hatred isn't good for either of you." Those were Mr. Murphy's last words before he walked out of the room.

You stood by the plants for a few minutes as you played around with the headphones that hung around your neck. You’d already sort of been startled by the topic you’d seen during Philosophy that day and you hoped that being at the greenhouse would serve as a little distraction but Mr. Murphy’s words hadn’t helped much.

You huffed and looked around for the hose to water the pretty anthuriums to get your mind off of everything that had gone down that day.

-

Hours later, you were still unable to shake Mr. Murphy’s words off. It wasn’t the first time he’d insisted on voicing his thoughts against that rivalry you had going on with the person standing between you and your biggest dream coming true. The thing that pissed you off though, was that his words had reminded you of what your best friend, Rory, had told you just the previous night while you did your usual hate rant. According to them, it was a good way to destress yourself.

You scoffed at the thought alone and let your chin rest on your palm as a frown appeared on your forehead. There was not a thing you could name that made you even remotely similar to the person sitting only a few feet away from you at the quiet school library. Ethan Torchio, a.k.a. Your archnemesis, the person you disliked the most in the face of the earth, was biting on the tip of his pencil as he concentrated hard on the thin black book he was holding up. Those dark eyes that shone honey whenever light hit them just right and those long strands of hair that graciously fell down his back accompanied by his signature turtlenecks and pretty smile were enough to make someone’s knees weak, but they only made you gag. 

You were sure he felt your eyes bore holes into the dark depths of his soul because it didn’t take long for him to look over his shoulder and meet your stare. Ethan smirked and his eyebrows shot up as he sent you a wink and a small wave. You knew that expression of his, he was teasing you, riling you up, hell, maybe he was trying to intimidate you. As crazy —and maybe a bit pathetic— as it made you sound, a simple smirk wasn’t just that when it came to him, never had been. Those dark eyes of his communicated his devilish intentions to you while he looked like an innocent child who’d never break a plate to anyone else.

You held his stare and mirrored his expression, which made him chuckle softly. It was nothing more than a silly game you’d play with one another to see who’d get tired of it first. The stare-off didn’t last too long that time around because his attention was stolen by one of his friends, Thomas. You simply shrugged and went back annotating on your copy of the black book. It was nothing more than one of those books written for the sole purpose of boring people to death. You loved reading, but when it came to those school-issued books that took around three pages to describe the sky-blue sofas in the main character’s living room, you couldn’t read more than a few pages before wanting to aggressively chuck it out the window. 

In a desperate attempt to distract yourself from the book that did nothing other than make you feel miserable, you stood up. You walked over to the large window that went from floor to ceiling. To your delight, the curtains were drawn back, which allowed sunlight to illuminate the otherwise dark library with its beautiful hues of orange and yellow. The librarian was a grumpy woman that loved when the curtains covered all the windows and blocked any source of light that wasn’t the soft glow of the lamps placed all over the dark room. You were almost convinced this woman had never felt the warmth of the sun against her pale and ashy skin, sometimes you even thought of her as a vampire that’d burn to death if she dared to stand outside for a few minutes. 

You looked out the window and admired the green gardens that adorned the front yard of the Academy’s largest building. The Oakes Academy was old and had been around since 1057. However, unlike most ancient schools like this one, the school board hadn’t been too interested in renovating the place outside of simply reinforcing the structure enough to fulfill the basic safety guidelines and the installation of optical fiber wires for a better internet connection. Even then, it was still considered to be one of the most prestigious schools to study at, and if it hadn’t been for the generous scholarship you were offered, you wouldn’t have been able to afford it anyway.

“Still plotting that little plan of yours to end the human race?” You bit down on your bottom lip to stop the colorful curse words from spilling as you turned sideways to look at Ethan. He’d decided to wear one of those annoyingly tight black turtlenecks of his and a pair of plaid trousers that made him look taller than he already was.

“Yes, and I’ll start with you first,” You smiled sarcastically at him, “In fact, I’ll swing by your dorm and murder you in your sleep,” You added while you choked the air for dramatic effect.

Ethan laughed and rolled his eyes. He had that spark of hate in his eyes that was always present when he was talking to you. That look alone told you that all that hatred and disgust you felt towards him was returned in the same magnitude. This rivalry of yours that consisted of dirty looks and constant arguments had been going on since eighth grade and it just seemed to get progressively worse as graduation approached. 

Everyone at Oakes knew how much Ethan and you despised each other, it wasn’t a secret. Even the Head Professor had been a witness of plenty of your many petty fights and you didn’t doubt that the people in charge of the Student Welfare department were sick of the many reports you’d filed against each other for breaking the ‘student rules of politeness’. No one remotely important cared much about your reports anyways because they were far from serious and, more often than not, childish.

“How cute. Although I don’t think that’d work too well for you, would it amore? If something were to happen to me they’d know it was you,” He commented. You shrugged and bit your lip in anger at the nickname he knew very well you detested. 

You casually leaned against the window, “Meh, it’d be worth it if I knew I wouldn’t have to see your face again. Now please get away before someone starts getting the sick idea that we’re friends.”

Ethan rolled his eyes but backed up a few steps either way, “God forbid someone would think such a horrific thing," He scoffed and raised his hand only to show you his middle finger when he knew the librarian wasn’t looking.

Before either of you could utter out another word, Damiano, one of Ethan’s closest friends, walked up to where you two were standing, effectively ending the conversation between you.

He waved at you and offered you a kind smile, which you immediately returned. Unlike his best friend, Damiano was a delight to be around. He was one of the kindest and nicest people you had ever met. You were quite close thanks to the fact that he’d been dating Rory for a while and you got used to spending long nights with the two of them doing silly things like playing board games or watching films. You were basically their third wheel, but neither of you minded much, if at all. 

“Hey, what’s up?” Damiano smacked Ethan on the shoulder as he started a conversation with him. You took it as your chance to leave and just awkwardly walked away after mumbling something about having to find Rory. They had told you something about eating dinner together, and while you’d initially refused because you were supposed to finish the book and start on your report, you were tempted to accept their offer and forget about the stupid book for a little bit more.

Just as you were about to leave the library, your phone vibrated inside the pocket of your warm cardigan. You took it out and chuckled when you read Rory’s message about their new phone but groaned when you realized they wanted to see you after curfew. You sighed and left the library as you tried to think of a great excuse to tell your roommate Emilia so she’d cover for you while you snuck out.

Ethan had his eyes focused on your figure as you left the library but turned back to look at Damiano when he spoke up, “If you’d only talk to them Ethan, I-” He sighed and interrupted his best friend, already irritated by the conversation he’d had with you.

“No, I will not talk to them, okay? Not like we can even talk because we start arguing like two toddlers,” Ethan mumbled out the last part and took a deep breath in. Truth be told, no part of him wanted to talk to you. You were annoying, rude, and didn’t seem to have more than one brain cell in his eyes, so why lose his time talking to you? Not like there’d be anything to talk about.

“They’re just so exasperating!” He spoke up and Damiano rolled his eyes as he saw his hate rant start approaching. They were both aware that once he started, he wouldn’t be able to stop, “I just- They try so hard and it’s annoying. Like I swear they’re also a huge hypocrite. I know you don’t see it but I do, I’ve never met anyone mo-”

Before he could end his last sentence, he felt a body slam into his and arms snake around his waist. Ethan huffed at the impact but wrapped his arms around her frame once he noticed it was Adeline Rossi, or Addie as everyone liked to call her. 

She pulled back and looked at both Damiano and Ethan excitedly, “You will never believe this but the craziest thing just happened… Hey, where’s Vic?” She trailed off as she started looking around for her friend.

Ethan chuckled lightly when he saw Thomas quietly approach Addie while she was distracted. They all knew she was the easiest person to scare, so it didn’t take more than a slight push and a soft boo for her green eyes to go wide and for her to jump. She was quick to turn to where Thomas was standing and didn’t think twice before smacking his shoulder with the heavy book she was carrying.

Thomas put his hands up in defeat as he took a step back and rubbed his shoulder, “Okay, okay shit. Stop, that actually hurts,” He whined and Addie only shrugged as Damiano and Ethan watched the whole interaction with amusement. 

“Right, so, ignoring all that,” Addie spoke up once again and shifted her attention back to Ethan, “Since she is nowhere to be seen, could you please help me with some stuff? It’s just this little interview for one class of mine and I’ve already interviewed Damià and Thomas but I need just one more.”

He nodded and said a quick goodbye to his two best friends before following the shorter girl out of the library. However, while he was walking, he felt his phone vibrate inside the pocket of his jeans. He fished it out and frowned as he read the text that had just been sent to him but laughed once he noticed it was only his girlfriend Emilia from her new phone. 

Then he sighed and rolled his eyes once he realized she wanted to see him past curfew again and he knew Will would ask him for money in exchange for not ratting him out. He quickly texted her back and slipped his phone back into his pocket as he followed Addie to her dorm.

Next

GOOGLE DRIVE 

#ethan torchio x reader #ethan torchio fanfiction #ethan torchio x you #ethan torchio x y/n #maneskin x reader #maneskin fanfiction

[shurisneakers]

shut in [4]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: cursing, threats

Word count: 3.7k

A/N: greetings everyone!! how are we all doing? i have nothing to say here tbh so anyway stan sam wilson being a lil shit whenever possible. 

i also appreciate feedback so if you would like to, please consider dropping me an ask or comment ly guys!! also if you want to be on the taglist, it’s mentioned at the bottom of the chapter.

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

“I’ll keep an eye out.”

“Alright, thank you.”

You hung up the call, trudging back to the house, discarding the battery along the way.

The air had a chill to it and there was an occasional breeze that went past, rustling leaves providing an eerily comforting background score. The temperature tended to rise as the day went on but nights were especially cold due to the abundance of trees. 

Even though the stress of the situation you were in constantly consumed all your waking thoughts, you still found the time to appreciate how beautiful your surroundings were. 

The last few days were barely memorable. Sam and you tended to stay out of each other's way unless your meal time coincided or you watched the local news together. The schedule had worked out favourably.

He wasn’t very hard to live with.

Most of the time.

His commentary and small jokes were never-ending but were not as unwelcome as you initially thought. It brought some much needed light into your otherwise dreary day. When it came to figuring out how to do laundry due to your now extended stay or whose turn it was to do it, things got a bit messy but were resolved quickly.

He used to disappear often for hours on end. You never concerned yourself with going after him to find out where he went, figuring that unless he was hatching a plot that led to your demise, he was entitled to his own privacy. He’d return a while later, calmer than when he left.

It was fine. Nothing to write home about. Neither of you were dead yet.

“What are you doing on the bed?” You were reconsidering your last thought when you walked into the bedroom to resume your self-interrupted sleep, only to find him face down on the sheets. “It’s my day today.”

“Just give me some time. I’ll be out of here soon enough.” His voice was muffled as he spoke into the sheets.

“You can take all the time you need tomorrow when it’s your turn.” You swatted at his legs, earning a grunt of chagrin from him.

“Go eat some soup and maybe you’ll calm down,” he fired back, unmoving.

“Today’s not soup day. Which you would know if you paid attention to our schedule. That we made. Together. The same schedule which says it’s my turn today.”

He groaned, shoving his face deeper into the pillow. “My back’s killing me. Just give me a few.”

“Why, what’d you do?” you asked curiously, letting go of his leg.

“Combat training. Took a few beatings, fucked up my spine.”

“Does it hurt a lot?”

“It comes and goes.” Sam finally rolled onto his back, giving you a view of his face. His bone structure was amazing, even from quite possibly the ugliest angle you could have over him. “You should’ve seen the other guy.”

You just stared at him as he linked his arms behind his neck, elevating his head to look at you. He had a small stubble that was starting to grow longer. You wondered if he would shave it. He looked good regardless.

“How’s your beloved?”

“Huh?”

“The person you keep sneaking around to talk to on the phone. I’m not your dad, y’know. You can talk to them inside the house, ‘m not gonna ground you,” he quipped, a small, teasing smile on his face.

“He’s not my lover. Just... an acquaintance.” You felt the awkwardness starting to set in after you trailed off. “Anyway since you’re awake, we need to talk.”

“‘Bout what?”

“What happened that day. We’ve been avoiding it but we need to figure out what went wrong. Or at least a clue.”

“Okay,” Sam agreed, wincing as he sat up straight. “How do you want to do it?”

“Just talk me through how you got put on this mission and what exactly happened that day, I guess.” You took a place on the bed, leaning backward on your hand for support.

He nodded, delaying for a second to collect his thoughts before beginning.

“So basically-”

The sun was particularly relentless that day.  

The ringing bell above the door of his favourite coffee shop was a welcoming sound. The barista smiled at him in greeting, asking if he wanted his usual to go.

His park bench was empty as it always was. Sam liked to think of it as a small gift from the universe; the fact that it was perpetually unoccupied.

He liked to sit there and watch people’s day go by. His iced coffee-

“I don’t really require that much detail.”

“Patience. I’m getting there.”

It was arguably one of the most peaceful days he had had in awhile, and he was hoping to keep the streak going. Nothing seemed like it would phase him, not even the phone ringing, drawing his attention away from the scene in front of him. Caller ID didn’t trace who it was.

“Hello?”

“Wilson.”

Sam gripped the cup so hard he thought it might spill over onto his jeans.

“I told you not to call me, Ransone.”

“But honey we had such a good time last night,” he faux cooed, “You know I have needs-”

“I’m not getting involved in your stupid organisation, Vincent. I told you I’m done,” Sam broke in, not wanting to waste time listening to his stupid dramatics.

“Listen here, Wilson.” The swift change in his tone was looming, threatening. “You’re done when I say you’re done-”

“Wanna bet?” Sam took a sip of his coffee. “I thought we made it clear in Detroit that we’re done. Honey.”

He added the last part out of pure spite just to get a rise out of him. Much to his glee it seemed to work as Ransone let out a deep exhale before continuing.

“That was before we found out there’s a mole in my gang. I want you to kill him.”

“This is way below my pay grade. Have one of your interns do it. Your shitty murder warehouse hasn’t seen much action in a while.”

“This is Pierce we’re talking about. If he’s working for another organisation, his ass is going to be so guarded, these kids couldn’t wouldn’t even get past the gate. Besides, you know my murder warehouse is for special guests only-”

“Man, it must suck real hard to be you right now,” Sam didn’t wait for him to complete his sentence. He finished the last bit of the drink he had left, gathering his things before standing up. “Find someone else. I’m out.”

“You might want to reconsider that. We found him.”

He stopped in his tracks.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Sam said steadily, grip on the phone tightening.

“I think you do, though. Had us fooled for a while there, thinking he’s dead. A little more research, some cash into the right pockets and boom! There he is, clear as day.”

Sam felt a chill go up his spine.

“He doesn’t know we know. We’re just keeping an eye on him for now.”

“If you even fucking think of touching him-” his fists were balled up, struggling to keep his anger from rising.

“Oh, don’t worry, I won’t.” Ransone laughed. “I’ll just have one of my interns do it.”

“Don’t fuck with me, Ransone. It’s not somethi-”

“Do this hit and I’ll leave him alone,” Ransone interjected. “You’ve worked so hard to pull him from our radar, Sammy. It would be a shame if it all went to waste.”

Sam’s jaw clenched. Suddenly the day didn’t seem as bright as it was a few minutes ago.

“I’ll text you the details. You tend to leave me on read so I thought I’d make it more fun. Do you want the confetti with the message or the lasers-”

Sam just hung up the call, feet firmly rooted in his spot. He had no idea what he was going to do.

The notification of a new text alerted him. Pierce’s address along with the exact timeline of when he’d be home.

It was across the country. If he botched the mission on purpose, Ransone wouldn't be able to find him for a few days at least, much less reach him. He could go on the run-

‘Do it or he dies.’

His train of thought was interrupted by a picture that made his blood boil.

Especially when it exploded with the stupid confetti effect.

“Okay, basically he threatened you with something to go do the hit.” You didn’t ask him what exactly he was threatening him with and Sam didn’t really elaborate.

“Yeah. Didn’t leave me with much of a choice. He’s batshit fuckin’ crazy anyway, I knew he’d do whatever he felt like.”

“So you ended up going.”

Pierce didn’t seem to get many visitors. Not that anyone could be blamed, this guy was one of the biggest pieces of shit Sam had had the misfortune of meeting.

Over the two days he had staked out in front of the mansion to find out if this guy had as much security as Ransone had boasted of, Sam had come to the conclusive truth that no, he very much did not. He had a standard home security system which was lacklustre compared to the rest of the house.

Maybe he just assumed that being a senior member of the mob would garner some fear to his name. Dumbass.

He found the tall shrubbery surrounding the property to be out of the line of sight of the camera, and climbing it wasn't very hard. He landed softly on the manicured lawn, adjusting his gloves and checking his surroundings before pulling his gun that was secured in the waistband of his pants.

He removed the safety, keeping it close to him as he stalked through the front yard.

The red car parked at the side earned an eye roll from him. If he had one, there was no doubt there’d be more. He just had to find a basement or garage.

Walking around the house, he kept close to the wall, searching for any opening to the basement.

It didn’t take long before he found a set of stairs to the exterior entrance of the basement. He checked to see if anyone was around before making his way down them. The lock was unsurprisingly easy to pick.

The basement was mostly dark save for a few strategic lights placed to highlight the magnificence of his several race cars. The man was moved slower than the second coming of Jesus. The cars just seemed like an overcompensation.

The switchboard was not difficult to find. He pulled open the cover, glancing at the switches before turning all of them off, plunging the whole basement into darkness. If his security system was as outdated as Pierce was, it would have turned off along with the rest of the house.

“Oh, that’s why the cameras weren't working when I showed up.” Bits that seemed amiss were beginning to place itself together the more his story progressed. “I assume you entered the house through the window on the side?”

“Sure did.”

Your guess was right. He’s the reason why it was ajar by the time you arrived.

As soon as he entered he had his gun raised. Scanning the room as he went past, his senses were dialed up to eleven. If he was really under the protection of Serpentine, they were doing a terrible job. He had gotten in completely unscathed.

As he made his way deeper into the house, the sound of some movie playing became louder. But he had cut off the power supply to the house.

His eyebrows pulled together tightly into a frown, he made his way down the hall towards the sound. No one was in the dining or living room he canvassed.

Finally, Pierce’s silhouette became clearer. He appeared to just be sitting there idly while a smaller screen played in front of him. It wasn’t a TV, just an iPad.

If Pierce was asleep it would just make the job easier. Gun raised, Sam made his way into the room silently.

Pierce was still. Sam raised the gun, taking a step closer.

A floorboard creaked.

He immediately cringed, shoulders tensed as he came to an immediate stop. It seemed like forever as he waited for Pierce to wake up, to brandish a gun and try and defend himself.

He didn’t.

Taking a step to the side, Sam moved diagonally. Each one was slow. Ready for any sudden movements from his end.

He finally stopped in front of Pierce.

A bullet hole in his forehead. Eyes open. Chest still.

He was dead.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Sam breathed out, lowering his gun. Pierce’s glassy eyes stared blankly ahead. He didn’t look like had been dead for too long.

A soft thud in another room made his head snap up. It was in the same direction from where he came.

He silently moved backwards to the corner of the room, hoping that the darkness was enough of a disguise as he saw someone stalking down the hallway.

“And that’s when you come in. Thought you were comin’ back to make sure he was dead.”

“I had just got there. Saw that everything was off, and just assumed it was a power outage.”

“What about you? How’d you end up there?” Sam had his legs crossed, leaning forward to listen to you.

“Ransone told me that there was a spy who was sending information out for nearly two years. Needed him gone and he wasn’t sure if his other agent would show up-” you mentioned to him- “I guess that’s you. Told me I had an opening at 8pm. When I got there, the CCTV was off. Found the window open so I just used that.”

You were replaying your memory, step by step to remember what exactly you had seen. 

“Heard the movie playing, found no one when I went down the hall. I saw the car keys on the island, which came in handy later. Entered the room, pushed his head with the gun and he just slumped over like a damn rag doll. That’s when you made your grand entrance.”

“Got one chance to make an impression. Had to make sure I looked cool, emergin’ from the shadows and whatnot.”

“It doesn’t make sense though.”

“Ouch. Thought it was pretty legit, actu-”

“No, no-” you waved him off. “Not your entrance. The henchmen thing.”

He paused, mulling over what you said. “If he was working for Serpentine, he would have been more careful. Why did they show up after he’s dead?”

“I don’t think they work for Serpentine. If Pierce was giving them information, they wouldn’t kill him.” You had good reason to be confident about that. You thought you did, from previous assessments.

“Unless they were scared that he’d switch again,” Sam suggested. You looked up from your fidgeting fingers to him. “Didn’t want any of their secrets going back to Ransone. They got to him before we did.”

“Why’d they shoot at us then? If they killed him and left, why’d they wait for us to show up? Why did they try to kill us?”

“I think we’re ignoring the important thing here,” he paused. You looked at him expectantly, prodding him on. “How did they know we were coming? They should have killed him and disappeared but they expected us.”

You tilted your head. “Are you saying-”

“There might be more.”

“Pierce might not have been the only one,” you finished. “There are more spies.”

“Tipped ‘em off. Told them we were going to be there.”

“And killing us was just to poke Ransone with a stick,” you murmured, eyes downcast, fidgeting with your fingers again. “But that just seems random. It doesn’t make sense.”

“None of this makes sense, sweetheart.” Sam scoffed, leaning back again.

“We’re missing something. There’s something wrong.” You looked at him. “If it’s just a random attack, why did they release our face to the whole fuckin’ country? Why are they specifically targeting us?”

“Finishing what they started. Covering all their tracks from that day. If we’re not dead, we’re a liability.”

“What if it’s not Serpentine at all? What if it’s another gang?”

“Serpentine has the most motive.”

“We don’t know that.”

He looked at you incredulously. “I think there’s substantial evidence to suggest they fuckin’ hate us. Besides, they’d want me dead specifically.”

“Why?” you inquired, eyes narrowing.

He opened his mouth like he was going to explain but closed it a second later, leaving you guessing.

“Fine, but it doesn’t mean they’re the only ones who do.” You made a point to ask him later or at least conduct your own research into it. 

“Okay,” he said, shifting to lean on his elbows, “who else could it be? If Pierce was working for Serpentine and Ransone found out, sends someone to kill him, it’s essentially an attack on one of their own members. I’d say that's a pretty good motive.”

“I don’t know. Hydra doesn’t like us either. There’s Ten Rings too. But Serpentine just doesn’t work out.”

“How are you sure?” he asked. “You a spy for them too?”

You rolled your eyes at him as he raised his eyebrow. “It doesn’t make sense. What if we’re missing something? Did we go through everything?”

“I just went through my entire story down to the most irrelevant details. Twice. Nothing’s missing on my end.” He pushed himself off the bed, taking a long stretch before looking back at you.

“I think we should do it again. Just to make sure.” You rotated your torso to look at him. “We can figure it out-”

“You’re going to lose your mind if you keep at this any longer for today. Take a break.”

“I can’t take this lightly. Everyone’s out there looking for us and there is no one we can trust-”

“And going through our stories for the third time today is going to solve that how?” He had his hands crossed over his chest like a stern parent.

“I’m sorry but our faces are probably plastered in every damn police precinct in the country,” you snapped, “And I think that us remembering something some stupid detail might actually help rather than, I don’t know, taking naps and eating sandwiches. So no, I’m not going to drop it. Because I actually want to get out of here.”

You didn’t mean to sound so angry with him. He had told you everything twice already and patiently answered questions that you had. You didn’t think he was lying. You had no way of knowing but you hoped that some sort of allegiance was being formed between you both.

There was silence for a minute, leaving enough time for the guilt to creep in when he didn’t fire back. It’s what you expected.

“I’m not asking you to drop it. I’m saying take a break,” he said calmly. “You’re thinkin’ enough for the both of us anyway.”

You let out a small exhale, forcing the edge to retreat from your voice.

“I’ll be back in a while.” With that he turned around and left the room. A few minutes later you heard the backdoor open and shut.

Great.

You massaged your throbbing temples, eyes closed. He was right. Your mind wasn’t clear and you had been at this for hours. You wouldn’t be able to think critically.

Or at all.

You dropped back on the bed, grabbing a pillow and pressing it to your face. The coolness of the fabric felt nice.

You just let out a sigh, turning to your side to hopefully get some sleep.

_____

You woke up what seemed like hours later to a dark room.

It took your eyes a while to adjust stepping out into the hallway illuminated by the light in the kitchen.

“Hey,” Sam’s voice rang out. “Made you a sandwich.”

You rubbed your eyes groggily, looking where he was pointing. Sure enough, there was a sandwich on the table. He sat at the seat adjacent to it.

“Thank you.” You contemplated sitting next to him for dinner. It would be a first.

In the end you just grabbed your plate, giving him a half smile before making your way to the couch. You settled on sitting on the floor instead, leaning your back against the foot of the sofa.

The TV was already halfway through playing Megamind so you just let it continue, mindlessly chewing on the bread. As far as peanut butter sandwiches go, it wasn’t all that bad.

“Wilson,” you called out sheepishly, eyes not leaving the movie. “I’m sorry for snapping at you. It wasn’t right.”

“It’s okay.”

How he let go of it so easily was beyond you. The sandwich was surprising too, but you took it, not wanting to change his mind. He couldn’t have poisoned it. You had checked his stuff.

You sat in silence for the rest of the movie. Your mind kept slipping in and out of thought but it was a comfortable atmosphere you found yourself in.

After the credits started rolling, you went to leave your plate in the sink. Sam brushed past you, grabbing the blanket at the foot of the couch, launching himself onto the cushions.

“What are you doing?” you asked, puzzled as he snuggled in.

“Going to sleep?” He tilted his head to look at you.

“Use the bed.”

“It’s your turn today.”

“Your back’s fucked up. I’ll take the couch.”

He didn’t budge.

“Go on.” You mentioned to the room with a shrug of your shoulder.

“You’re not going to let me argue, are you?”

You pressed your lips into a straight line to hide a smile, shaking your head lightly.

“Well, okay.” He let out a small noise as he got up. “Guess I’m sleeping business class tonight.”

Sam walked past you, careful not to bump into you. You swapped places with him, making your way to the couch, readjusting the blanket that was haphazardly left there.  

“Y/N.” You peered at him from the corner of your eye, only to fully turn when you caught his gaze. “I appreciate it.”

You just nodded, tossing the blanket over yourself as he switched off the light.

Next part

#sam x reader #sam wilson x reader #mcu fic #sam fic #sam wilson fic #sam wilson fluff #sam wilson angst #sam wilson series #falcon #falcon x reader #the falcon x reader #hitman!sam wilson #hitman!au #shut in fic #marvel fic #marvel #mcu #sam wilson #the falcon #sam wilson fanfiction #marvel imagine #marvel fanfiction #sam wilson imagine #sam imagine

[slasher-sweetie]

Happy Accidents: Michael Myers(RZ)x Reader ◇Part One◇

You couldn't believe it. After how careful you had always been to make sure that you took your birth control pills, because you knew that you were sleeping with a murderer, because you knew that you were putting your life at risk every time he wound his hands around your throat, because you knew Michael Myers would not be a good father, you had somehow still gotten pregnant.

You loved Michael, you really did. You were probably missing some very important parts of your brain that dealt with self-preservation, but you loved him with your whole heart. Which is why you had accepted the fact that you would never be a mother, that you would never experience the sound of tiny feet pattering across the floor, or witness a first word, or feel the joy of raising a child.

The moment you realized you were in love with Michael, you knew that you would have to put those things in a box, and bury that box deep inside your heart, because this life was no life for a child to live. Michael probably didn't even like children, if he did, he certainly never let on about it to you.

Did you think Michael was capable of love? Maybe. At times he would come to you and show you the affection you often craved. You had learned very early on that Michael only allowed affection when he permitted it. The various bruises you sustained from being pushed to the ground taught you that fairly quickly.

You had respected his boundaries, knowing that he had been through so much. He deserved to have some control over his life, even if it meant that you didn't always get the physical affection that you needed. Michael had been stripped of his ability to choose for himself when he was thrown into Smith's Grove. You understood that, and would never take away his choice.

Your eyes glanced back down at the test. A child wouldn't understand why their father rejected every form of affection from them. A child wouldn't be able to understand why it seemed as if they're father hated them half the time. A child wouldn't be able to cope with having their father three feet away from them and rarely ever receiving love or affection from him.

What had you done? You'd brought an innocent life into this situation, into a situation where they would feel rejected by their father for their entire life. How could you have been so careless?

You could get an abortion, but could you really end the life of a child that was half Michael? Could you really bring yourself to kill a part of Michael? No. Not even if it meant his happiness.

Your mind wandered to thoughts from long ago, when you were a child. You had always pictured yourself with children. Even from such a young age, you knew that you were meant to be a mother. The moment you met Michael, those dreams receded to the back of your mind.

Now they were a reality. You were a mother, even if your baby was currently the size of a pea. Or a seed. Come to think of it, you had no idea how far along you were. Maybe you were worrying for nothing and you had bought a faulty pregnancy test. Maybe you were even dreaming. You pinched yourself to try and snap out of it, only to wince in response to the sharp pain. Okay, not dreaming.

How were you going to tell Michael?

Where you even going to tell Michael?

Jesus fucking Christ, what were you going to do?

You took a deep breath, trying to clear your mind and not stress out about the situation. Stress is bad for the baby.

You sat there and decided that one thing was for sure, you were keeping Michael's baby. There would be no thoughts of abortion or adoption. What if you gave them up for adoption and the baby was born with Michael's mindset? What if their new family didn't know how to handle them? What if they wound up in some crazy house with no one to love them? You shuddered at that last thought. No. No abortion, no adoption, you were keeping your baby.

Now that THAT was decided, onto the other decisions at hand.

Were you going to tell Michael? I mean, sooner or later, you would start showing. Michael was observant, he would definitely notice something was amiss. So, you'd hint at it. You'd ask him how he felt about children. A simple question, and you would use his answer as the basis to plot your next move.

So you waited, and in the process of waiting you baked some caramel brownies, Michael's favorite. Maybe if you plied him with sweets he'd be in a much better mood.

***

Michael could smell them from a block away. The reason he had shown up to your doorstep in the first place, the reason your relationship hadn't ended with you dead on the floor. Your special brownies, with bits of fudge, and ooey caramel.  They were the single best thing he had ever eaten in his life. You knew they were his favorite.

What you didn't know was that the brownies were second only to one other thing he had ever tasted, your lips. Your sweetness was greater than any other flavor he had ever known. It was why he kept coming back, it was why he referred to you as Brownies in his mind. He knew your name, but didn't people come up with silly names for their significant others? He had seen it several times on the TV, darling, sweetheart, honey, baby, sugar. All names that he had heard couples call eachother. And weren't the two of you a couple? You ate together, slept together, lived together. That was definitely a couple in Michael's book. So, he decided to name you after one of his favorite things, Brownies. You certainly didn't know that, but Michael did and that's all that really mattered.

At the pace that he walked, he arrived at your house in no time. His breathing was even as he let himself inside, the smell of his awaiting treats permeated the air, mixing with a lingering scent that Michael could only describe as you. He made his way to the kitchen, something inside him told him that's where he'd find you.

Your back was turned to him when he entered the kitchen, so in an attempt to not startle you, Michael purposefully stepped on one of the many creaky boards that could be found around your house. At the sound you turned quickly, sighing once you saw it was only him.

"Welcome home, Michael," you greeted with a smile. Your red-rimmed eyes gave you away immediately. You had been crying, and Michael wanted to know why. With his long stride he was in front of you in an instant, his hand reaching out to cup your cheek, he used his thumb to push just under your jawline in order to angle your face up. He needed to study you, needed to know that you were okay. He could feel the voices in his head going wild, screaming for blood. Who had hurt his Brownies?

You placed you hand over his, giving it a comforting squeeze, "I'm alright, Michael. I've just been thinking."

You tried to pull away but the low growl in Michael's chest stopped you. His meaning was clear. He wanted to know what had upset you.

Well, now was as good a time as any to bring up the subject of children with your homicidal housemate.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for whatever might happen, " How do you feel about children, Michael?"

His hand dropped from your face and he stepped back as if you had slapped him. Children? What did he think about children? He didn't think about children.  Did you want children with him? He was a murderer. He had a head filled with voices that demanded frequent bloody sacrifices. Yet, here you were, asking him what he thought of children.

Without any other reaction, he turned and walked out of the room, a few seconds later you heard the slamming of the front door.

Your hands went down to cup your stomach to reassure the tiny life growing inside. That could've gone worse.

***

It had been a week since Michael had exited your house, and you hadn't seen hide nor hair of him since then. Your decision was made. You'd leave Haddonfield. You definitely couldn't stay to raise your child in the same town as the father who had all but rejected them.

Your hormones had been insane the past week, and a part of you wondered if it was the small amount of Michael's DNA that was living inside you.

You watched as your neighbor loaded the last box of clothes into the moving van you had ordered. In your condition you couldn't lift heavy items, and your neighbor had volunteered to help you load the van.

You were leaving today, and all you wanted was to see Michael one last time before you left. This move had been rushed, you knew that. You had worked so hard to secure a house in your home town, and thankfully you found a sweet old couple that were moving, and would pay for all the expenses of having the deed put into your name. They were leery of you at first, but after they had found out you were pregnant, the wife had only charged you $300 to buy their two bedroom cottage that was conveniently located in your hometown.

You knew that it was a complete steal, and jumped on the opportunity. You had sold your car for $12,000 and used some of the money to rent the moving van. You left the rest in a little envelope with Michael's name on it. In the event that he came back and found it before someone else did, Michael would at least have a little money to get him by.

You surveyed the house one last time, said goodbye to your neighbor, and then climbed up into the van.

You were leaving a piece of yourself in Haddonfield with Michael, and you were taking a piece of Michael with you. You blinked back the tears as you began your drive to your new home.

Michael would be better off without you.

#slashers #slasher x you #slasher x reader #michael myers #michael myers x you #michael myers x reader #pregnancy #pregnant #childbirth

[the-modernmary]

my best habit || aaron hotchner x reader (prologue)

Summary: When Aaron Hotchner ended your affair with him, saying that a serial killer was going after him and his family, you were content with the idea that you'd probably never see him again. Two years have come and gone since then, but when you get dragged into an FBI investigation as a key witness, you and Hotch are forced to come face to face with all the things left unsaid.

Warnings: Age gap (15-ish years), smut, degradation, unprotected sex. This story is 18+ older. This is not a story for minors.

A/N: Hello, hello!! I figured that since I've made a writing tumblr, I should post my story on here!! This is a multichapter story, so I am very excited to go on this journey with y'all!! I already have multiple chapters written and published, so these should be coming out VERY quickly. If you don't want to wait to catch up, you can read everything I have on ao3! This chapter starts as a flashback, and then the next chapter and the rest from here on out will be actual plot!

masterlist || read on ao3

“If you were waitin’ on the sunshine, blue sky

Cheap high, lullaby

Then my best habit’s letting you down”

- The Maine, “My Best Habit”

Two years earlier

Your eyes scanned the University Ballroom, your champagne glass practically ignored in your hand. You hated all these alumni networking galas and avoided going to them as much as possible. Old, sleazy lawyers with much younger women on their arm reliving their best cases with each other and expecting all the new law students to laugh when they were able to get their defendant acquitted because of some dumb technicality. It made you sick.

It didn’t help that you were already going in with a bad attitude. Your ex-boyfriend had dropped by your apartment that morning to pick up the rest of his stuff, and he decided that the best person to help him with that was the girl he had been cheating on you with. You caught them together three weeks ago, and you had been so stressed from midterms that you hadn’t even had the chance to go out, get drunk, and have wildly irresponsible rebound sex.

But you had to suck it up for the night, at least until you were able to get the answer you came for. After that, you could go back to your apartment, replace your too tight and too short dress with some nice pajamas, and watch trashy reality TV until you passed out on your couch.

You scanned the room a few more times until you caught sight of a tall man in a dark suit leaning against the bar. Bingo. You set your champagne flute down and ran over to him as fast as your heels could take you. Once you were just a few steps away, you quickly composed yourself and walked straight into his line of sight.

SSA Aaron Hotchner rarely came to alumni events here at George Washington Law School, citing that he wasn’t even a prosecutor anymore and had much more important work to do back at the BAU, but he was going as favor to his old law school buddy. Plus, it was either coming to this or going out to the bar with the team, and seeing as he had just signed the divorce papers with Haley, he wanted to be somewhere he wasn’t going to be profiled all night. The free champagne was also a bonus.

When you saw that his name was on the RSVP list, you knew that you had to go.

“Agent Hotchner?” you asked, giving him your best straight A student smile.

He refused to look up right away, not giving you the chance to charm him. “I’m not currently on duty. If there is a case you would like the BAU to look over, that’s handled by our media liaison,” he said absently, taking another sip of champagne.

You frowned but kept your hand out for him to shake. “That’s not what I’m here for, I-” You took a breath to compose yourself. “My name is Y/N Y/L/N. I’m a first year here- getting a joint JD and masters in forensic psychology. My goal is to become a prosecutor,” you pressed, and you were rewarded when he perked up in interest. He slid his drink on the table.

“Most law firms don’t usually want a prosecutor who’s going to empathize with the person you’re prosecuting,” he mused, and shook your hand, his grip just tight enough to pass as faux politeness.

You shook your head and clasped your hands behind your back, trying to ignore how warm his hands were. “I think the best prosecutors empathize with the defendants,” you admitted. “Isn’t that how you succeeded as both a prosecutor and as a federal agent? That’s actually why I came to you, I wanted to ask you a question... about my thesis,” you added quickly, figuring that the best way to get him to talk to you.

Aaron’s posture changed from half asleep to maybe listening, and your face went red. Sure, you only came to the event to talk to him, but you never thought that you’d actually get Aaron Hotchner to pay attention to you. “I didn’t empathize with the people I was putting in jail,” he told you, his voice ice cold. “That didn’t come until I worked in the BAU, and even now, I wouldn’t call it empathy. Just understanding of how they became the type of person they are.” He leaned sideways on the bar counter and you felt yourself shrink under his gaze. You shifted slightly and felt the hem of your dress move up your thighs ever so slightly. Aaron noticed too, if the lick of his lips was anything to go by.

You took his silence as your signal to ask your question. “You offered Jessica Michaelson a lesser sentence that had her released in just three years despite the fact that she murdered her brother in cold blood in his sleep. You had the evidence, why didn’t you push for premeditation?” you asked, and his eyebrow quirked upwards. “In the case The People vs. Michaelson,” you added unnecessarily, trying to break the silence.

“I know the case you’re referring to. I was the lead on it,” he reminded you, his voice edging on dangerous. “You know, most people aren’t interested in my days as a lawyer.”

You shrugged, hoping to appear more confident than you felt. “I’m not most people,” you agreed, biting down on your lower lip. His gaze was so intense, and it was affecting you in ways you couldn’t have imagined. It was turning you on, you realized with a start. It had been a while since you had last had sex, and it was driving you only slightly crazy. “But that doesn’t answer my question.”

Aaron grabbed a champagne flute from a server walking by, and shoved it in your direction. You grabbed it cautiously. “Did you read the police report on the case?” he asked, and you nodded wordlessly, taking a sip of the champagne. The alcohol was making you bolder, and you stepped towards him. “Then you’ll know that there was very little physical evidence tying her to the muder. We chose to offer the charge that would have stuck instead of risking her being found not guilty.”

You gritted your teeth together in an effort to calm yourself down. “She murdered four people within the six months after she was released from prison,” you reminded him.

That seemed to have struck a chord with Aaron, and his steely persona seemed to fade ever so slightly. He sighed exasperatedly; you were obviously getting on his nerves. “The prints and DNA that were collected and put into VICAP when she was in prison are what got her caught in the end, and that was the evidence needed to lock her away for life. We wouldn’t have gotten those prints without her original charge. It all worked out.”

You groaned and threw your hands in the air. “You couldn’t have predicted that, though,” you argued. “And people have been found guilty with way less evidence than you had in the original case. I think you just felt bad for her, considering her brother was a real piece of shit.” You were being difficult now, you knew that. But there was something about Aaron Hotcher that was pulling you in, and you wanted to see how far you could push him.

Aaron gave you a predatory grin and he stepped towards you ever so slightly, finishing his drink. He must have had multiple drinks too, judging by the soft flush on his face. “Oh, you do?” He seemed amused now. He slowly raked his eyes from your face, down your neck, and down the rest of your body, and you forgot how to breath. You knew that it was inappropriate and that he was a highly respected FBI agent, even if he was kind of an asshole at the moment. You also knew that the two of you were crossing lines that neither of you should have even been close to, but you shivered under the weight of his gaze all the same.

You shifted back and forth, your brain trying to process what was happening. “Yeah, I do. And I know that you transferred to the FBI after Michaelson was arrested again, which makes me think that this case was your breaking point,” you ranted, your hands becoming more and more animated.

Aaron chuckled, but there was very little amusement behind it. “Are you sure you want to be a lawyer?” he asked, cocking his head to the side. “Because you’re starting to talk like a profiler.”

You arched an eyebrow at him. “No thanks,” you said firmly, and he just shrugged before making a move to walk past you. You sidestepped in front of him, effectively blocking him from going anywhere. But it was obvious that he was done talking about this.

In your mind, you had two options now. You could keep pushing him about a case that he obviously didn’t want to talk to you about, or you could switch gears in your brain and have him help you solve your... other problem. Aaron was attractive, and you were getting tired of guys your age. You noticed the distinct lack of a wedding ring on his finger, but there was still a tan to show that it had been there. So either he was recently separated or just trying to cheat on his wife. You wanted to not care whichever it was, but a pang in your heart told you to be considerate. Besides, you did not want to get involved with another cheater.

“Must be hard to be at these events without your wife here to scare off all the lonely female law students,” you mused cautiously. You didn’t want to come on too strong, but the alcohol in your system was slowly clouding your ability to be subtle.

Aaron cleared his throat, obviously taken aback by the sudden shift in conversation. “I’m not married,” he said, too quickly and too defensively. So he’s separated, you thought, and you stepped closer to him.

His eyebrows furrowed as he tried to figure out your endgame. “Well, I would love to discuss your work as a prosecutor more when there are less… distractions around,” you whispered, your words breathy. “Tell me Agent Hotchner, do I make you nervous?” You sounded a lot more confident than you felt.

Aaron just smirked and grabbed your free hand, covering it in both of his, and the action was surprisingly soft, even if it was way too late for him to try acting suave. His eyes, on the other hand, told a whole other story. His pupils were so dilated that his eyes were practically black. “I face the worst people in society on a daily basis. Desperate law students don’t make me nervous. In fact…” He stepped towards you, looking around to make sure nobody else was looking. Aaron leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear with every word. ��I think that I make you nervous. And more than nervous, I make you very excited.”

Your breath hitched as he pulled back, a smug smile gracing his lips. You yanked your hand back to preserve what little dignity you had left, but it was too late. “Now, if you would like to discuss my prosecuting career more in depth, then you can set up a formal meeting with me at the BAU,” he continued, obviously proud of himself and the effect he was having on you. He pulled out a business card and upon further instruction, you realized that it wasn’t even his. Jennifer Jareu the name read. “Our media liaison will be able to help you organize that. Now if you don’t mind, I am going to retire for the night.”

Aaron finished the rest of his drink and brushed past you while you were still trying to get your thoughts under control. “Oh, and you’ll make a wonderful lawyer someday, I’m sure of it,” he called over his shoulder, and that snapped you back into action.

You followed, running around him and cutting him off. “And if I don’t want to discuss your prosecuting career?” you asked, batting your eyelashes at him. “What if I was interested in a… less formal meeting?”

That was all the permission he needed. Aaron grabbed your hand and pulled you out of the ballroom, the two of you moving so fast that nobody in the room even had a chance to put two and two together. There was an empty hallway just next to the entrance of the room and Aaron pulled you in that direction, pressing you against the wall and kissing you fiercely the second the two of you were alone.

There was nothing gentle about the kiss, but in a strange role reversal, he let you take the lead. It’s certainly not what you expected from Aaron Hotchner who, until now, had been controlling every aspect of your meeting. You realized then that this was his way of making sure you were okay with what was happening- giving you a chance to back out and change your mind. You just answered by tangling your hands in his hair, pulling so that he was at just the right angle to kiss you.

Aaron dug his fingers into your hips, hard enough to make you gasp out. You were definitely going to have bruises the next day, but you couldn’t be bothered to care. He shoved his leg in between yours and tugged on your lip with his teeth, which made you whimper involuntarily. He smirked against your lips, obviously proud of the noises he was drawing from you. You pulled on his hair harder as a sign of irritation, but that seemed to only make him more amused as he pulled away to laugh into your neck.

“Are we just going to make out against a wall like we’re back in high school, or are you going to actually do something worth my time?” you breathe, fighting to keep your voice even and light. It only halfway worked as he dragged his tongue up your neck to your pulse point. And then he bit down, hard.

It took everything in your power to stay quiet, especially as he softly kissed the newly forming bruise. His attack on your neck was relentless as he pulled your hips and back forth against his thigh. You whimpered as you desperately tried to get any friction from the simple movement. Your skirt was now dangerously close to being pushed so far up your legs that you would be completely exposed.

You pulled away first- you had to or your legs were going to completely give out from under you. You desperately tried to get your breathing under control and, to your annoyance, he looked perfectly composed. The only thing giving him away was his slightly swollen lips.

His fingers trailed up your thigh, getting so close to where you want him. “What would you like me to do then?” he asked easily, his voice almost sounding bored. You were speechless, like your brain had just short circuited. There were a lot of things you wanted him to do, but the words were lost on the tip of your tongue. “If you want something, you have to ask for it.” That was a demand, and he punctuated it by pressing his thigh further into you. You were sure he was going to have a wet spot on his slacks. He took the hand not in between your legs and grabbed your jaw forcefully, his thumb resting on your bottom lip. “Use your words, little girl.”

You realize that the two of you were standing on the edge of a cliff, and you had the power to decide whether or not to jump over. It gave you a strange sense of power. Logically, you knew it was a bad idea. He was too old for you, obviously going through some sort of relationship trauma, and wasn’t somebody you could talk to your friends and family about. But the less rational side wanted him so badly it hurt. You wanted him more than you’ve wanted anything or anyone in a long time.

You noticed your strawberry colored lipstick was smudged ever so slightly on the corner of his mouth, and that’s all it took for you to jump off the side of the cliff. “I want you to drag me into the empty classroom just down the hall and fuck me senseless. I want you to use me,” you moan before taking his thumb into your mouth and sucking.

The look on his face is something you’ll never forget. There was a mix of shock and arousal, but also something primitive; His eyes darkened when you told him to use you, and there was a fluttering in your stomach. You couldn’t tell if it was from excitement or dread. Maybe even both.

He removed his hands from your mouth and legs, only to place his hand on the small of your back. He began walking towards the classroom you had pointed out, much too slow for your liking, but he knew exactly what he was doing. “You’re going to regret asking me to use you,” he practically growls in your ear, each word increasing your arousal. “Are you one of those lonely female law students you warned me about? So desperate and needy for a real man to bend you over a table and fuck you until you can’t walk straight? Ready and willing to whore yourself out for the first man who gives you a second glance?”

Your breath hitched as you stuttered out your answer. “Y-yes, Agent Hotchner,” you whispered as he opened the classroom door and guided you in.

As soon as the door was shut and locked, he was back on your lips again, lifting you so that you were sitting on one of the desks with your legs wrapped around his waist. “Call me Aaron,” he mumbled in between kisses, and you were all too happy to oblige.

You were a moaning mess at this point as his hands pushed your dress up to your waist. His hands and lips were somehow everywhere at once and you were so hot and all you could think about was getting your damn dress off, but Aaron seemed to have other plans.

He ran his fingers up your lace covered slit and he just chuckled into your lips. “You’re so wet for me, already,” he groaned and you let out an embarrassingly loud moan. “And I’ve barely touched you. Do my words really have that much effect on you? Do you like it when I call you a whore?”

He hooked his fingers under the waistband of your panties and quickly pulled them down. You could feel his bulge pressing against you and all you could think about was how badly you wanted it. How badly you wanted him. Your hands moved down his chest to make quick work of his belt, and his pants followed after.

“Please, please Aaron,” you begged, desperately trying to create some friction against him. His fingers tangled in your hair and he pulled your head back so that you were looking at him.

“You’re so pretty when you beg.” His fingers slowly ran up your slit, not enough to give you any pleasure. He was teasing you and enjoying every second of it. “And I wish I could take my time with you. The things I want to do to you…” Two of his fingers entered you and you cried out loudly. “But somebody could walk in on us at any second. I’m sure they can all hear you moaning like a dirty whore, all for me. But you’d like that, wouldn’t you? So desperate for my attention and approval.”

His words turned you on more than you would have liked to admit. “Yes, Aaron yes. Please-” you were cut off by Aaron curling his fingers, hitting that spot that made you want to scream out in pleasure. But all too soon, they were gone.

He inspected his fingers, which were now covered in your juices, before bringing them to your mouth. “Suck,” he ordered, and you eagerly complied, wrapping your lips around his fingers and moaning at the taste of yourself. “I’ll just have to fuck you quickly here, and then you’ll be begging for more next time,” he groaned and finally- finally- entered you.

He didn’t give you time to adjust to him, thrusting roughly into you. He removed his fingers from your mouth and brought his hand to your neck. He didn’t put any pressure, but he wanted you to know that he could and would if you decided to get mouthy with him.

Your hands gripped the edge of the desk you were sitting on, your knuckles turning white. Your eyes started to close in pleasure as his hips slammed into yours, but they shot open as he tightened his grip on your throat. “Look at me. I want to see you when you cum,” he ordered, and you nodded the best you could.

“Yes sir!” you cried out, unsure of what else to say.

Seemingly satisfied with your answer, Aaron released your throat and moved his hand down so that he was stimulating your clit. You could feel the coil in your stomach tighten as your legs started to twitch. Aaron took this as motivation to slam into you even harder, relishing each time you gasped out his name.

His pace was unforgiving, leaving you gasping for air. Keeping your eyes open was a challenge, but you were able to do it with his soft mutters of praise. “Even brats like you can be good girls,” he groaned, his thrusts becoming erratic. “You just need somebody to fuck it into you.”

You were unable to respond coherently, so you just settled on begging even more, although you weren’t sure what you were begging for exactly. Aaron seemed to know, and he sped up his fingers against your clit. You wanted to scream out for him, but your voice wasn’t working. “What did I say before?” he asks roughly. “If you want something, ask for it.”

“Please… please can I cum?” you cried out, feeling yourself getting close to the edge. “Please let me cum around your cock!”

He nodded in approval and you had to muffle yourself in his neck to keep quiet. He fucked you through your orgasm, the overstimulation almost too much, but it wasn’t long before he was moaning your name, and you felt him fill you.

The two of you stayed like that for a few moments, both breathing heavily as the situation started to sink in. You just let a guy almost 15 years older than you that you just met fuck you in an empty classroom, and you really enjoyed it. Aaron, on the other hand, looked like he was going through a full crisis.

He pulled out of you slowly, and you winced at the feeling. He pulled up his pants quickly. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, looking around the empty classroom. “I don’t have anything good to clean you up with.” A box of kleenex caught his eye and he grabbed a few tissues. It was better than nothing.

You chuckled nervously and waved it off. “It’s fine,” you promised, your voice coming out shakier than you expected, but he ignored you. He wiped the mess dripping down your thighs. You were cold. He must have noticed, because he took off his suit jacket and wrapped it around your shoulders.

“Are you okay?” Aaron asked softly, and it was a full 180 from the way he had just been talking to you.

“I’m great,” you admitted honestly. “Seriously, that was… great.”

Aaron smiled at you- the first real smile he had given you all night. “It wasn’t too much?” he confirmed, and you suddenly remembered what he had said to you earlier. ...then you’ll be begging for more next time. Was he planning on a next time? You wouldn’t have minded it.

You shook your head and slowly slid off the table. You took one of the tissues and wiped up the mess that was left on the table. “Not at all. In fact, I could take more. Next time.” Your voice was light and airy. Aaron watched as you picked your underwear off the floor. There was no way you were putting those back on, not when you had no idea when the floor was last cleaned.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” he teased, eyeing you carefully.

“Well I can’t keep it if I only have your media liaison’s number,” you reminded him, your eyebrow raised. Aaron chuckled and pulled out another business card, except this time it was his. You plucked the card out of his hands and inspected it carefully. “I’ll call you sometime. You can do all those other things we didn’t have time to do.” You were on your tiptoes now, whispering in his ear. “You know… my mouth can do a lot more than just ask for things.” As you spoke, you slipped your panties into his back pocket. You just laughed as you heard a soft gasp escape his lips.

You made your way towards the door, your legs wobbling dangerously underneath you. You were sure that you looked like a mess, but you didn’t care. All that mattered to you was Aaron Hotchner’s eyes glued to your ass. “Get home safe,” he told you and you let yourself smile. Maybe it was a bad idea to start sleeping with a recent divorcee, but the sex was great and you both knew where you stood with the other person. No feelings, just fucking out your frustrations and stress.

Oh yeah, coming to this event was definitely a good call on your part.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x y/n #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner smut #my best habit #my writing

[itsclydebitches]

Vine’s death/sacrifice really kinda messes with the “themes” of this volume, the idea of not sacrificing anyone to save others. I guess self-sacrifice is considered ok because of Hazel and Penny, but I just think about their conversation with JRY, with their talk of doing everything possible to save a beloved teammate.

Yeah, self-sacrifices are a whole different ballgame in RWBY. It’s framed as heroic to do everything possible to save an individual, or for an individual to sacrifice themselves for everyone else. However, it’s not framed as heroic for others to sacrifice an individual to save the whole. So the idea of saving Oscar at any cost is presented as the unambiguously good thing to do... with the show largely ignoring the reverse question of, “So it’s okay to sacrifice hundreds or thousands of people--and the safety of an entire city housing the majority of the city below--for one?” 

There are admittedly differences in terms of the presumed fatality of each situation. Meaning, Hazel, Vine, and Penny are framed as having to die or lots more people will definitely die: Salem will get JRYOE, the Ace Ops + Qrow will perish, Cinder will get the power and do horrific things with it (even if this supposed inevitability isn’t executed well. Example: there apparently just isn’t time to heal Penny). In contrast, Oscar is presented as a case where they can still save him and keep others alive. Obviously it all turned out the best it could--because these are the heroes and the plot ensures things go well--but the show doesn’t grapple with that risk, despite RWBY naming an episode after it. We don’t engage with the fact that JYR were 100% willing to let an entire city perish to save their teammate. It’s a heartwarming characterization from one perspective, absolutely, but the flipside is that they’re licensed huntsmen in a position of authority and their willingness to abandon the vast majority of a nation for one guy is... arguably horrifying. These issue is only exacerbated by this decision not being a one-off thing. Ruby’s desire for a perfect solution led her to trapping most of the Atlas/Mantle citizens there and then prioritizing two other teammates--Nora and Penny--over helping the people, despite her inability to do anything to assist those teammates. She isn’t defending them from anything (prior to the Hound’s arrival), doesn’t have the skills to heal them, they’re not even conscious to ask her to stay with them... she just decided that sitting at her friends’ bedside, doing nothing, was more important than helping the people who were currently in life threatening danger. Oscar was in life threatening danger too, but JYR were still in the same position of being official protectors of the people who said, “No. Our friend is more important than the whole nation. We’ll let it burn for the chance to save him.” 

Since I just started Voyager (side note: I WOULD DIE FOR JANEWAY) I’m reminded of how often Star Trek as a franchise emphasizes these moral questions. Not just in the classic “The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few,” but also when it comes to any position of authority. Captains and Commanders have to grapple with whether they’re able to send an individual--likely a friend--into a deadly situation to help the rest of the ship, like ordering your Chief Engineer into dangerous territory to fix something. They also have to grapple with whether they’re able to leave people behind for the sake of the ship and how much danger it’s ethical to put the whole crew in to continue trying to save the few (something that takes center stage in numerous episodes). Star Trek, though far from perfect as a franchise, largely achieves a great balance between having characters be hopeful, pushing the odds, upholding the importance of every life... but also recognizing that, as the authority here, they cannot put the life of one individual over the entirety of the ship (not unless the entire ship agrees to take that risk. Hence, The Search for Spock). They cannot prioritize their personal desires and needs over that of their crew... but that’s precisely where the RWBY group has ended up. Frankly, this wouldn’t be as much of a problem if the show had just made them into rogue entities, rather than licensed huntsmen who are very much using their authority to gain power over the people they’re not prioritizing (Ruby starts her video by telling the world she’s a huntress, Jaune uses his credentials to get people to follow him). It’s the authority that’s the problem. If a civilian that happens to have a talent for fighting decides to defend their friends instead of helping the people, fine. We may not personally agree with that decision, but it’s theirs to make. The problem is our heroes are huntsmen. They have a duty and they are continually ignoring that duty despite reaping the benefits of their position. Someone with the authority of a huntsmen can sacrifice themselves to save the people, or to save a friend. They cannot, however, willingly sacrifice the people for themselves, or a friend. And yes “sacrifice” includes not just active harm (keeping Atlas trapped), but also increasing the risk of harm (not wanting the whale to be bombed) and passiveness (sitting in a mansion) when it’s their responsibility to protect others. 

What was it Weiss said at Mountain Glenn? 

“It's a job. We all had this romanticized vision of being a Huntress in our heads! But at the end of the day, it's a job to protect the people and whatever we want, will have to come second.”

The characters have completely forgotten that... and the writers have too. Now, “whatever we want” is framed as the heroic thing to do. Ruby wants a miracle despite all evidence to the contrary, so all the people they’ve successful evacuated have to remain in danger until she gets one. The JRY group want their teammate back, so the army will just have to keep dying until they get him. (The fact that they eventually agree to the bomb going off whether they’re still in there or not--something I quite like--doesn’t erase that they initially wanted the Ace Ops to not drop the bomb at all.) Ruby doesn’t want to have to choose between Mantle and Atlas, so both cities just have to lose out on three of the very few people who exist to protect them while they’re torn apart by monsters. “Both houses deserve to be saved!” says the firefighter, standing there and refusing to help either. Inevitably, both burn down. 

The willingness to leave behind an individual for the whole--something which, I should point out, exists in the “Are you willing to leave the few in Mantle for all of Atlas + a large number of refugees?” question-- isn’t just the sacrifice of the individual, it’s also a sacrifice of the authority. Are you willing to live with the guilt of this decision? Are you willing to sit with that choice and accept any consequences that might come your way, including others’ hatred of you for failing to achieve perfection? Ironwood was. He knew he was hurting Mantle, knew no one had been able to come up with a perfect solution, and decided that helping the whole world was worth it. Others despising him was worth getting communications back up and (he thought) defeating Salem. That’s a sacrifice, one that makes Winter’s “You sacrificed nothing!” line sound particularly ridiculous. What has the group sacrificed lately? I don’t mean what they’ve lost--what’s been taken from them--but what they’ve willingly given up to help others. I can’t think of much, especially not in Volume 8. Ruby never even made the choice at all, let alone accepted the drawbacks of it. 

RWBY wants to be a complex, morally gray show, but you cannot write that and have heroes who insist on that fairy tale ending. Something has to give and, inevitably, RWBY keeps supplying that ending instead of forcing the characters to grow. If they want a dark, imperfect world then they need protagonists like Ironwood. No, not crazy, murderous, keep-him-away-from-me Ironwood, but the Ironwood of early Volume 7 who was willing to acknowledge that sometimes perfection is impossible. Sometimes it’s your duty to just get the best outcome possible, not the best you’d hoped for. Sometimes you have to make incredibly hard decisions and shoulder the weight of that because you accepted this responsibility when you took on the role of leader. The group hasn’t accepted a thing and Ruby absolutely didn’t accept the responsibility of seizing power and presenting herself as the world’s leader. Instead, they’ve reverted to their characterizations at the beginning of Mountain Glenn. What do you mean I can’t make the world perfect by wishing it was so? Fine, if I can’t have perfection than I won’t accept anything at all. 

#rwby #mymetas #flawartist

[ghosthunthq]

BFU: “The Mysterious Death of Dr. Eugene Davis”

Buzzfeed Unsolved True Crime

“The Mysterious Death of Dr. Eugene Davis”

Aeternus.Flamma

000

  Prompt: ghost hunt but make it buzzfeed unsolved!AU (it can be with or without Gene being alive) i think that would be entertaining    Submitted by Anonymous

000

  [Intro music plays]

  RYAN: [Narration] Today on Buzzfeed Unsolved, we discuss the mysterious death of Dr. Eugene Davis. 

  SHANE: Eugene? 

  RYAN: Yeah, Eugene. 

  SHANE: I only know, like, one other Eugene. When was this? 

  RYAN: Like, recent. If you’d let me get through the intro… 

SHANE: Fine, fine. Go on. 

  RYAN: As I was saying, today we discuss the mysterious death of Dr. Eugene Davis, one of the most renowned mediums of our time. 

  SHANE: Medium. Right. 

  RYAN: Yes, medium. Dr. Davis, known as Gene to his family, has been called the perfect medium–no other person has thus far been able to so accurately communicate with other spirits. Not only could he channel on near demand, but he also showed, on numerous occasions, speaking fluently in languages he did not know. 

SHANE: Oh, sure. Like that can’t be faked. This bullshit has been literally faked for hundreds of years. Picking up a few lines in French isn’t exactly convincing. I’ve said it before. All psychics are bullshit.

  RYAN: Yeah, fine, maybe not. But how about entire conversations with loved ones in Russian? Or Arabic? Can–can you do that? 

  SHANE: Just cause–okay, well, you can learn languages. There are people out there who have learned dozens of languages over their life–

  RYAN: Did I mention he was sixteen?

  SHANE: …

  RYAN: Yeah, think about that a bit more. He’s seventeen and apparently he fluently speaks, uh, Japanese, Mandarin, Korean…  English, French, Spanish, Italian, Portugese, Russian, Arabic… Like, people have tried to disprove this kid and–

  SHANE: Wait you, said Dr. Eugene Davis. 

  RYAN: Yeah–

  SHANE: Doctor? 

  RYAN: We’ll get to that. 

  SHANE: Yeah. Okay. I call bullshit now. This is already ridiculous. 

  RYAN: It gets weirder. 

  SHANE: Of course it does. 

RYAN: [Narration] Dr. Davis’s sad story starts when he was a child, found in an American orphanage by famous parapsychologists, Martin and Luella Davis. The Davises adopted Gene and his brother, despite them showing know signs of speaking English. 

  SHANE: Martin and Luella didn’t speak English??

  RYAN: No, Gene and his brother. They only spoke Japanese to one another. 

  SHANE: … They only spoke Japanese?

  RYAN: Well, yeah, they’re Japanese, or, their parents were. 

  SHANE: You–uh–so he’s a psychic, Japanese child found in an American orphanage?

  RYAN: Yeah. And he’s adopted by a British couple. 

  SHANE: Oh, they’re British?

  RYAN: Yeah, they’re, like, the British version of the Warren’s–don’t roll your eyes. 

  SHANE: I thought this wasn’t the ghost season. 

  RYAN: It’s not–well, yeah, it’s not. 

  SHANE: There are ghosts involved, aren’t there?

  RYAN: …

  SHANE: This is great. 

  RYAN: [Narration] Gene and his brother Oliver, and no, those weren’t their birth names, but I couldn’t find those, were adopted by the parapsychologists and moved to the UK. From a young age, the brothers showed signs of having unique abilities. 

  SHANE: Both of them? The brother too?

  RYAN: Uh, yeah. Oliver Davis, also a doctor by the way, has given demonstrations using psychokinesis, or PK. Telekinesis basically. Move shit with his mind. 

  SHANE: Interesting… And how old is he?

  RYAN: They’re twins. 

  SHANE: Tw–twins! You’re kidding me!

  RYAN: No, no that’s for real. 

  SHANE: So, you have two creepy children, freaking twins, in an orphanage, and they’re apparently psychic? This isn’t real life. This is a plot to a B movie. 

  RYAN: I don’t know what to tell you. I can show you the videos. 

  SHANE: Shopped. 

  RYAN: There’s–there’s a death certificate–

  SHANE: I’m not saying this kid didn’t die, I’m saying that this is a hot, steaming pile of–

  RYAN: Alright, alright, I get it. Let me get to his death. 

  SHANE: Fine. 

  RYAN: After jointly publishing a dissertation and receiving their honorary doctorates, Gene and his brother were accepted to Cambridge University. Before starting his study, Gene decided to travel to Japan, though accounts as to why he did so vary. What may have been a pilgrimage to visit distant relatives unfortunately turned disastrous as Gene disappeared. 

  SHANE: Was he traveling alone?

  RYAN: Yes. 

  SHANE: Who lets a sixteen year old travel alone, especially overseas?

  RYAN: Okay, well, one, if you’re going to do it, Japan’s the one place to do it, it’s pretty safe. Two, he had contacts he was visiting. It wasn’t like he was just wandering around completely alone, he just didn’t have the same person traveling with him the whole time. They have records of him, you know, like visiting schools, meeting with colleagues and stuff. He was apparently very personable and made friends easily. 

  SHANE: Yeah, well, that’s how people get killed. And based on how this is going–well there you go. 

  RYAN: [Narration] Gene Davis was last seen leaving the home of a friend one night. He left on foot, intending to walk back to the ryokan that he was staying at in the area. However, he never made it to his destination. Despite police being called very quickly, it would take months before his body was recovered. 

  SHANE: Okay, I guess I take it back. He at least had friends who called the cops, when, what, he didn’t text them back?

  RYAN: Actually…

  SHANE: Oh they didn’t? Okay, nevermind. Suspicious. 

  RYAN: So, his brother was the one who called the cops. 

  SHANE: His brother? But he didn’t go to Japan.

RYAN: No, he didn’t. 

  SHANE: ….

  RYAN: [Narration] Though he couldn’t say how he knew to call the cops, Gene’s brother, Oliver, called anyhow and insisted that they do a check on his brother at the ryokan. When they arrived, the proprietors confirmed that they hadn’t seen the teen. It took a few days before Gene’s friends came forward, having no idea he was missing in the first place. 

  SHANE: More psychic shit?

RYAN: Uh, yeah, psychic… stuff. It was never publicly declared, but like, yeah, apparently Oliver had like, I dunno, psychic visions and knew something happened to his brother.

  SHANE: Well–okay. 

  RYAN: You don’t actually sound that angry at that. 

  SHANE: No, I guess… Twins right? I mean, I may not believe in the oogie boogie crap, but there has been, you know, weird things between children. Weren’t there, like, those sisters? And they only talked to each other, but then decided one had to die…?

  RYAN: Yeah, the Gibbons. The Silent Twins. 

  SHANE: There you go. Another weird twin story. 

  RYAN: Actually–okay, well, we’ll get into that. After nearly six months of searching, Oliver Davis ultimately recovered the body of his brother, who was found at the bottom of a lake in the countryside. He traveled to Japan and worked under a pseudonym, using family money to pay divers to search bodies of water. 

  SHANE: A lake? How did he–why did he–you know what, nevermind. Psychic. Right. 

  RYAN: Right. He, uh, saw his brother, I guess, drown. 

  SHANE: But psychic-ly. 

  RYAN: Yeah. 

  SHANE: Okay. 

  RYAN: Autopsy notes say that Gene was likely hit, uh, twice, by a car, and then tossed into the water while he was still alive. 

  SHANE: Jesus. Twice? What, did someone back up and hit him again?

  RYAN: Actually, it seemed like he was hit and then someone reversed and backed over him. Based on breaks or something, I don’t know. I’m not an expert. But yeah, seems like at least the second one was intentional. He still wasn’t dead, though, and maybe could have survived. 

  SHANE: Until he was thrown into the water? That’s horrible. That seems intentional, or like, the worst person in the world getting into an accident. What kind of person could do that? It’s like stupid teenagers at the start of a horror movie–actually I’m pretty sure that is the start to a horror movie. 

  RYAN: Yeah, it’s terrible. 

  SHANE: And sixteen. Awful. Psychic shit or not, awful.

  RYAN: It’s time to dive into theories on what happened to the young Dr. Eugene Davis. 

  RYAN: [Narration] Our first theory, and the most believable, is simply that Gene was hit on a dark road while walking back to his ryokan. The driver, finding themselves in a predicament, either backed up to see what they hit or intentionally did so in a state of panic. Regardless, it’s quite possible they believed that the teen was dead, and instead of calling the police, dumped the body in one of the numerous lakes in the area. The idea that it was simply an accident seems to have gained the most traction as there are no other serious suspects at this time. 

  SHANE: It’s unfortunate, but I guess I can see how it could have happened. It’s crazy that someone with such an insane background could meet such a munade end. Like, I thought for sure you would say it was ghosts or aliens. 

  RYAN: We still have two more theories. 

  SHANE: Of course we do.

  RYAN: [Narration] The second theory has started circulating since the recovery of Gene’s body. Many people found the fact that Gene’s brother simply knew about the death to be suspicious. Some speculations, especially from skeptics of the psychics, believe that Oliver orchestrated the death of his brother. Both brothers proved to be highly intelligent, to the point where they’ve been called prodigies, and it wouldn’t be impossible for someone so cunning to plan such an elaborate ruse. 

  SHANE: Hm… Okay. I guess that’s possible… Do we–do we know anything about this Oliver? Why would he murder his brother? Like, is there any substance to this theory?

  RYAN: Yeah, so, first, apparently, despite being twins, their personalities were night and day. Whereas Gene was pretty popular and, like, charismatic, his brother was–is, he’s still alive–not. So, it could have been jealousy. But, also, you’ve also mentioned the Silent Sisters–who agreed that one of them needed to die for the other to live. 

  SHANE: So, what, they were in on it together? If so, kinda seems like they picked the wrong brother. 

  RYAN: Yeah, kinda. Another popular theory for the whole, Oliver killed his brother concept, is that, much like the Fox sisters–who, if you don’t know, are some of the most famous ‘spiritualists’ in history–Gene wanted to confess that their psychic powers were fake. When one of the Fox sisters did that in the 1800’s, it ruined them. Maybe Oliver wasn’t willing to give up the clout that they had built off of their supposed abilities. 

  SHANE: That’s it. That’s the one. 

  RYAN: You like that one?

  SHANE: Yeah. That makes a hell of a lotta sense. Sure, hit and run, maybe. But yeah, this Oliver seems suspicious. I’m on team: their powers were fake, Gene had a conscience, and as he was growing out of his teenage years, he wanted to leave it behind. Seems about right. 

  RYAN: Yeah–yeah, okay. Seeing the history of other psychic siblings… yeah, I can see how this makes sense. 

  SHANE: What happened to Oliver?

  RYAN: Uh, well he’s still teaching at–

  SHANE: He’s teaching?

  RYAN: Yeah, like I said, prodigy. He’s been back to Japan a few times–recently he made the paper because he was involved in a fire on the island of Poveglia in Italy. 

  SHANE: So he’s an arsonist now?

  RYAN: No, no, apparently there was a ghost hunt that went wrong and–

  SHANE: He’s a ghost hunter?

  RYAN: Okay, this is–this is a story for another time–the Ciao Poveglia mystery is–you know what, I’m just going to stop now. It’s a whole thing. Look into it. 

  SHANE: Okay. Fine. Last theory?

  RYAN: [Narration] Our final theory is that Gene’s dealings with the afterlife came back to haunt him. Though no one can be certain exactly what Gene was doing, some true crime enthusiasts have put together a trail of his last known whereabouts in Japan. Supposedly, the trail can be traced back to a well known politician. Some believe that the spirits of individuals wronged by the politician spoke to Gene and he was working on gathering evidence to provide to the authorities. 

  SHANE: The spirits spoke to him. Right. Of course. Are there any scandals behind this politician? 

  RYAN: Uh–no. None. Well, there are rumors, but the, like, Redditors can’t even really settle on who the person is. So, it’s probably a bust. 

  SHANE: Could you imagine if that was true? Or like, you know, he thought it was true? And this kid just walked into the police station and said, I–I know that the, uh, prime minister killed and, uh, ate someone. How do I know? The ghosts told me! Dude would have been locked up so fast… 

  RYAN: Yeah, probably. It… doesn’t have a lot of credit behind it. 

  RYAN: [Narration] In the end, what actually happened to Dr. Eugene Davis, one of the most accomplished spiritualists of our time, will remain unsolved.

  SHANE: Look, whatever happened, and whatever… skills… he might have had… it’s still unfortunate that someone died so young. It’s a shame. 

RYAN: I’m guessing that I could show you all of his public research, and you would still never believe me. 

  SHANE: Uh… yeah that–that’s probably accurate. 

  RYAN: Wouldn’t it be pretty cool if we like, ran into Oliver on one of our investigations? Like, we just ended up at the same location?

SHANE: I mean, you did just offer up a theory that he’s a killer and I did agree with you. So. You know, no? Not because of any psychic stuff, but because we just trashed him online on a channel with a few million subscribers. 

  RYAN: Good point. Well. I’m sure that will never happen. [Outro Music Plays.]

000

  Notes: please don’t ask me how far I have driven to see one of the few, live BFU shows. I’m a Watcher patreon and own MOST of their BFU/Watcher merch. It’s like this prompt was made for me. I’m working on a BFU Supernatural/GH fic now. Ciao Poveglia is referenced. Please check out the cleaned up, slightly updated version on AO3. 

  Ever your servant, 

  Aeternus.Flamma

#GHW2021 #Ghost Hunt #GHHQ #aeternus0flamma #BFU AU #submission