#This pathetic murder man out here really THAT lonely

[completeoveranalysis]

[8]

Ok Evil Wolverine what do you have to say. 

Oh. 

No Evil Wolverine is full of shit. 

But I think you can see an interesting side of him here that I’m not sure has been on display before. Usually he narrates about how great his plan is or how angry he is that his plan isn’t working, but here he’s talking about something entirely different. He’s watching Lava Lamp make these choices and he seems THRILLED that making the decisions he is. 

I don’t know if he has Plans for Lava Lamp (he was originally meant to be killed by Fai after all), but lacking any future knowledge this scene is tacked onto the moment where Lava Lamp FINALLY starts to be a bit less tragically alone by having the Tsubasa Family share his decision and the consequences of it. Evil Wolverine, in turn, is celebrating the fact that Lava Lamp is making the same type of decision that HE might make. 

So we effectively see Evil Wolverine himself ALSO take comfort in the idea that other people are like him. That they’re making the same decisions and facing the same consequences that he’s so focussed on. 

Even though it’s a bit of an evil monologue moment we’re accidentally privy to Evil Wolverine ALSO being so alone and isolated in his ruins and his plans that he’s visibly excited over any perceived similarity he has with someone else. He’s thrilled into monologuing over the PERCEPTION that Lava Lamp can make the same hard choices he does, that he’s willing to cause suffering to get what he wants. 

And it’s clearly not actually the same. Lava Lamp is torn up inside to the point that the Tsubasa Family were finally moved into realising that he ISN’T as calm and collected and unaffected as he pretends to be. Lava Lamp was emotionally devastated by the choice he made here and was willing to let it destroy him before the others saw this and stopped him. 

It’s a far cry from Evil Wolverine who feels nothing as he destroys the lives of thousands upon thousands upon thousands of people - endless worlds tossed into the tragedy pyre far beyond our ability to measure - for his own private goals. 

He’s also missing the Agency factor. Lava Lamp doesn’t REALLY have any choice here. He can’t ACTUALLY choose to stay here in this time loop and never ask any questions that deviate from the plot. The time loop was ending the second they arrived. In reality, they DIDN’T make this choice. It happened around them completely independent of anything they actually did on purpose. In reality, this was a choice that EVIL WOLVERINE made by forcing this reality on the people trapped in the time loop in the first place. NO-ONE ELSE did this. No-one else set this up or chose to be here or chose to end this. It’s all on him - the ENTIRE SERIES is on him. 

It’s all choices that he forced on other people from start to finish. So even though he’s really fond of the idea that "Lava Lamp made a hard choice here and this makes him just as selfish as Evil Wolverine", he is deluding himself. Not a single other person can really take the blame for these lives that he’s destroyed, no matter how much Evil Wolverine tries to convince himself that they might. 

The only real question I have is whether Evil Wolverine is telling himself this because he’s entirely delusional or if it’s out of emotional desperation, and he’s just that eager to have a connection with the people he watches all day every day. 

Evil Wolverine is developing his own little parasocial relationship here, delighting in the percieved brutality in people that doesn't really exist and using it to back up his own warped misinterpretation of reality.

It's all just a bit sad really.

[futureplayboibunnie]

‘’NEXT TIME (1/?)’’

Aaron Hotchner x bau! fem! reader

18+

- only got 3 more exams left and then i’m free ahhhhh. i’m working on like 3 fics at the same time to procrastinate lmao. but my boy aaron takes priority. i was planning on making this an even longer fic with like a super sad ending but its so damn long i’ll have to add another chapter. love yaaaa x

warnings: smutty smut smut so be warned. pnv. some angsty aspects lowkey. aaron being the dom we all know he is. some swearing and bants.

It shouldn't have happened. It wasn't right. Your moral compass was straying, but when you were with Hotch...did it really matter if it felt like you were morally grey?

Time was blurring into a pin sphincter, it was flowing out of your fingertips and your grip on it was as neglectful as it was pathetic. Six months of dancing around knives and eggshells with Hotch, to hide the unprofessional courtesy of a passionate love affair between two federal agents that are bound by their work…..and secretly each other.

All you could ask yourself at this point was:

How did it come to this?

How could you have possibly been this stupid? This weak. This subjective. Now it was going to be the death of you, in more ways than one. It all started with one look, one small moment of weakness within both of you would inevitably be your undoing. One stupid look, on one stupid night between two sad and lonely people desperate to feel something, anything other than the pain and horror that's experienced every day on this job.

You stopped in your tracks when you should've kept walking.

————————

12:34 am. You were so close, the end of this day was near, thank God. You had been rushing around all day- the case was nearby but it was especially difficult to catch the unsub due to Hotch's personal connection to this one. He had worked a similar case to this one when he first started the bureau and it turned out that this was a bloodline murderer and stalker- the unsub's father was the original killer on one of Hotch's first cases and he was just carrying on his legacy. Alex Wall was definitely an unsub worth remembering. It was hazy but solved, what was unusual though was that you noticed it seemed to affect Hotch in a way you've never seen before. You knew it was personal for him but you had never seen him crack as much as this, it was jarring and it made you halt in your tracks

Aaron Hotchner finally peeling back the brooding facade seemed like a lunar event that happened once in every blood moon. It reminded you that Hotch was just a man. Just human. Not this robotic machine that caught killers for a living. The thought made your gaze soften as you collected your files from your desk, your brain turning to static as these thoughts about your boss run rampant through the forefront of your mind. It made you think. Everyone comes to Hotch when they have a problem, and he always seemed to have a solution. But who did he go to when he felt like the world was asking too much of him? When the stress of this job felt like an eternal haunt? You dismissed the thought as quickly as it came.

You and Hotch were in the same chilly waters. Ice blooded. You were both incredibly opposed to each other, even though you were both serious as hell about this job. If anything, you were supposed to get along like a house on fire as you inhibited the same outlook. He especially pissed you off on this case because you suggested that the unsub might have been stalking his victims for a span of 6 months and then attacking. You've never believed in anything this strongly about a case in so long but Hotch shot you down. But your gut wasn't lying. It never did.

You shouldn't be reading into this, you shouldn't even care about it but your conscious was poking at you. Plus you had some files you needed to drop off.

No. Not now.

It was late, you were the only ones here and you weren't sure if you were ready to indulge in conversation just yet. You could drop it off tomorrow morning. You walked past his office and caught a glimpse of him through his blinded windows, he was writing but he looked distracted. Agitated. Sad, even. Alcohol. It definitely caught your attention and you resented it deeply. You were too much of a good person, the thought made your eyes narrow as you stopped in your movements. Instead, you shifted and turned around and stared at Hotch's door. Taking a deep breath before knocking.

‘’Come in.’’ Hotch said curtly, lowering his pen and standing up from his desk so he was in your eyeline

‘’I have some files for you to close the case." You parroted his tone back at him as you handed him the files.

"Thank you."

You paused for a moment to study him. Maybe it was because of how dark it was outside, maybe it was because Hotch was looking incredibly attractive in this light right now but it seemed your tongue was moving faster than your brain.

"What's wrong with you?" You questioned brusquely, not in an insulting way but in a matter-of-fact way.

‘’I'm sorry?’’ Hotch raised his brow at your purpose. It wasn't that surprising that you spoke whatever it is that was prancing around in that mind of yours but it didn't mean that it wasn't disarming

‘’Do you keep spare glasses in your drawers as well as the whiskey or do you just splash a dose into your coffee after hours?’’ You attempted to conceal your smirk but it barely worked.

Hotch just glared at you with furrowed brows and a certain distasteful passivity that you'd grown to expect but he wasn't lashing out at you- he was too tired and drained. He opened his drawer and pulled out two glasses and the bottle of whiskey he indulges in after hours when a case had seemed to scramble up his head. He knew it would be useless to lie to you right now, not when you were looking this incredible this late at night. The thoughts occupied him when he poured you a glass.

‘’Sit.’’ He ordered and you comfortably obliged.

"Thank you." You chirped with a half smile as he handed you the drink and he resumed his position of sitting, his fingertips toying with the glass. You sat in silence for a while, studying each other. Noticing how uneventful and sad everything is. Hotch thought you looked beautiful in front of him.

"I think you don't give yourself enough credit.’’

"For what?"

"For how incredible you are."

Hotch's stare intensified, compliments weren't a rare occurrence for him to endure but from you, was…memorable. The words you uttered made his body still.

‘’Thank you. Coming from a woman like you, I'm flattered.’’ He was happy with his more than eloquent response.

"'A woman like me?"

"The smart and beautiful kind."

You chuckled dryly, your face blushing a cute pink at his compliment- he caught you out and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't completely happy with himself.

You on the other hand were afraid you were going to start sweating in front of him, your thighs were involuntarily clamping together.

"Why are you telling me this?" Hotched added, your sudden declaration piqued his interest.

‘’I’ve heard whispers of you transferring." You sighed as you crossed your arms. "I'm hoping it's not true."

This wasn't because of your own biased viewpoint of Hotch at all, the team would literally have a gaping hole without him. Quite frankly, the team would fall apart. Everyone would be directionless. You never really put weight to these rumors but there's no smoke without any fire. The thought soured your mood and it was written all over your face, you hoped he wouldn't notice it but as usual, it was impossible for him not to.

‘’I thought about it a while back, maybe to transfer to a white-collar crime division but I've found that I'm far too attached to this team. You won't be getting rid of me that easily.’’

‘’I prefer it to stay that way.’’ You said softly like an angel wistfully staring down from the clouds. Your face instinctively brightened at the fact he was staying here. He's the only one that could effectively lead this team and you also didn't want him to leave your eyeline anytime soon.

Now you didn't know what to say, you both shared a longing look- something so strange and hard to define. It was easy for him to get you like this, like the basest of sentimentality, like a child at prayer. You were so good at hiding things, it was a skill that you practically needed to have in order for the people you work with not to pry into your life. Now, it all felt superficial when your exterior was cracking under his brutal gaze.

Hotch was a force of nature, you were sure even the weather bowed down at his feet. The thought made you bite your lip as you bashfully hung your head before meeting his eyes once more.

‘’Your tell.’’ Hotch stated.

‘’What?’’ Your eyes were bright with invitation and confusion, catching you and disarming you once more.

‘’You're nervous but I can't figure out for the life of me why.’’ Hotch announced and it made a deep pit form within your stomach, a strange heat swirling within your gut. Why was it only with him you felt this way? It was like he was playing God with you. You no longer wished to entertain whatever deduction he had going on, mostly for your own professionality and dignity so you stood up from your seat with your empty whisky glass in hand and leaned over. Face to face. Real close, placing your glass down in front of him. His scent was mystifying, his cologne was headily intoxicating.

You whispered. ‘’If I told you then transferring might be a good option for you to keep open.’’ Your voice was soft and serious, your face was hard to retain your reputation but your pussy was clenching around nothing. You leaned back and walked to the closed door, your hand placed on the handle, ready and willing to leave before Hotch also stood up from his seat and followed you to the door. Before you knew it, you could feel his massive frame and broad shoulders looming behind you. Turning around leaning against the door, you were met with Hotch's flaming and scorching eyes- his face was the nearest it's ever been to yours and you had to stifle any sound your body was willing to make.

‘’I meant what I said.’’ Hotch mumbled. You hung your head up to admire his dauntless eyes.

‘’So did I. You finished for the night?’’

"Yeah, let me just grab my stuff and I'll walk you out."

‘’I’ll just be a second.’’ Your hands twisted at the handle and you walked yourself out. You had to tamper down the shit-eating grin that was adorning your face but it felt like a near impossible task.

It only took a few brief moments to collate your things and swing your bag around your shoulder and before idling about it for too long, Hotch was already walking down the stairs with his eyes completely and utterly set upon you. Fuck. His eyes were unflinching, he drank you in as you waited so patiently and prettily for him, it was a sight beyond wildest dreams.

Neither of you said anything as you walked to the elevator and pressed the button, the tension between the two of you was egregious and so easy to spot. When the elevator dinged and the metal doors opened, Hotch being the gentleman he is, let you in first and pressed the ground floor. Time was going so fast, you had to do or say something before you never got the chance again. You felt his eyes burn into you, that serious Hotch face that's he so infamously known for etched on his defined features.

"What's going on up there, Hotch?" Your voice was flirty and breathy- there's no way you could possibly make it any clearer to him.

‘’You.’’ He declared, your body stood paralysed at the unexpected words.

He grabbed your face harshly and pushed you against the elevator wall, his lips colliding with yours in a battle against wills, a battle against the the longing and tension that hindered you both.

A kiss that was messy- no finesse. Something you absolutely wouldn't ever correlate with Hotch. It was like you wanted your mouths on each other but you knew you couldn't. Between breaths, you mumbled out a plea. ‘’No...no, Hotch…we can't.’’

His mouth traveled to the bare skin of your neck instead and planted kisses to atone for your sighs. They were becoming uncontrollable until he pressed his forehead onto yours.

‘’I know. I know. I just wanted to know what it felt like to feel your lips.’’ His thumb outlined the curves of your lips and and tugged your bottom lip down and all you could do was stare at him dumbly. ‘’I can't stop staring at them but I'm sure you've figured that out already." Hotch admitted in a hazed-out manner, all your body was willing to do was stare at him as he cradled your face, imploring him, begging him for something neither of you could have freely.

"You kissed me.’’ You remarked, completely oblivious and dumbed down by just a kiss. Your eyes were wide and glinting under the soft elevator light.

‘'You are quite the profiler, aren't you?’’ He said gently, traces of humor present in his voice as he stared down at you. You just smirked back at him, finally mustering up the courage to not look like a deer in the headlights.

"You're making me flustered.’’

‘’I can see that.’’ He shot back, almost as if he was goading you on. You paused to let the blood run back into your brain again.

‘’We shouldn’t.’’ You said heavy lidded, hoping he would back off because if he didn’t you’d jump his bones right now. It was like he could read your mind because he instinctively retracted his hands back to himself and instead resumed his prior postion by your side. In a half assed attempt to remain professional. ‘’Do you really want IAB down here probing on all of us?’’

‘’Yeah. We really shouldn’t.’’

——

You were in his bed. Hot. Wet. Aggressive. Bordering on delusional. Trying to hold out on him. Your naked body was all his to savour, all his to touch, all his to pleasure.

‘’Aaron…fuck….I’m-‘’ You were half hypnotised. Your clear thinking was long gone at this point but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

‘’Tell me what you want, tell me what you need and I’ll give it to you.’’

His voice was gruff. Sincere. It was able to turn you into a pile of ashes in an instant, it was pathetic but reasonable. You didn't know how to answer him, you knew with all your heart that you wanted him and now you have him- you had no idea what to even do after that, you never thought you'd get that far.

Your head was dangling off the edge of the bed, hanging off as he kissed down your neck, making you writhe and squirm beneath him in the delicious process.

‘’I just want you, Aaron...I-m-‘’ You couldn't properly articulate a sentence, your brain was fogged up with arousal.

‘'Come on baby, be more specific with me.’’

‘’Aaron.’’ You warned.

‘’Or I'll stop.’’ He replied in a thick, heavy voice.

‘’Don't be cruel.’’

With that, he smirked at you and leaned up from your body to stare down at you through surveying and analytical eyes, another means to tease you- he knew you couldn't take it anymore, you were desperate and it made him all the more aroused. The thought was a chilling one. It was an irrefutable fact: Hotch needed control in every aspect of his life. Especially in bed.

‘’You're the one that's been cruel.’’ Hotch declared softly as if he was profiling you- it made you bite your lip, the way that he's literally got you in his bed and made you this fucking wet already but he still had a polite tone. Hotch reached for your face delicately and traced his thumb on your soft lips. ‘’Oh, honey. You really have no idea how cruel you've been to me over the past few months.’’

‘’Enlighten me.’’ You flirted back. He paused at the brashness of your challenge.

Hotch gave you a severe look and attempted to dismiss you but he knew it was futile, you were insatiable.

‘'Aaron. Enlighten. Me.’’ You enunciated, unafraid of the consequences he would so deliciously inflict on you. You were begging for it at this point.

‘’No.’’ Hotch replied simply and just grasped your hips harshly making you yelp. Your ears pricked up at the clank of his belt being unbuckled.

"Fuck you, Aaron.'’ You whined as he started to position himself at your throbbing pussy. Lord above, he was massive and you didn't doubt it one bit. But Aaron not baring his secrets only reinforced the reason why you disliked him in the first place, even when he's about to fuck you into oblivion, he's secretive and closed off.

‘'That's no way to talk, is it? Apologize.’’ He demanded as his eyes met yours.

"No.’’

‘’Apologize or I'll edge you until morning's end.’’ His lips fell into an undeniably serious frown, he wasn't joking- he looked angry and it only escalated your heart rate. Your mouth was running before you could stop it.

‘'You don't actually think I'd have any complaints about that, do you?'’ You raised your brow at him, passion and desperation oozing out of every pore, hatred spewing from your eyes.

Hotch contemplated your purpose underneath him, a fire boiling within him every second his eyes panned to you. You were squirming and bucking against him already, desperate for friction. Lord, you were frustrating. And completely beguiling. It was so difficult getting you to shut the fuck up at work and it transfers into bed too. He knew you'd pretend that this never even occurred. Going to work. Going about your day. Acting as if he didn't leave you shaking and dripping the night before.

Aaron was a calm and reasonable man when needed to be- but you were a force that made him reckon with his own calm and reasonable iudements

He wanted to do wicked things to you.

He wanted to make you weep under him.

If he were a smart man, he would let someone else have you. He would be selfless, he could do that if he really wanted to. But you were his: His sweet fixation.

His. Only.

‘’You're drooling all over yourself.’’ Hotch gritted through clenched teeth, the need to possess you clouding him when his hands flew straight to his belt and undid it so roughly you thought the buckle would snap. Your gasp was sweet and breathless and he wanted to inhale it.

'’Aaron just touch me. Please.'’ Your beg was a sore reminder of how desperate you were for the man that you once considered the bane of your existence, it made you lazily attempt to bite back a smirk. Now you were under him, filled with reckless abandon. You were too busy being flushed and wonton that you were entirely shocked to feel his tip graze you already. You couldn't do anything, your head was just hanging off the edge of the bed and you were locked within him.

‘’Where?’’ He asked, dragging it out.

‘'Fuck...you. You know exactly where.’’ You spat back at him, completely unimpressed by his need to prove something that didn't need to be proven.

‘’You never talk to me like this at work.’’ Aaron reached his hand and wrapped his fingers around the skin of your neck. His tone was severe. And a strange frisson of fear, arousal, and anger started to welt within you.

‘’You actually get things done at work.’’ You scolded, instantly regretting your response because of the reaction you were sure to get.

Aaron didn't even pause after you uttered those words. He pushed his throbbing dick inside of you, not even bothering to tease you into it, get you to ease up. He clenched his hand harder against your neck and he bit your neck. You were shocked. He liked it. He was being selfish, caring about his own suffering and pleasure more than yours. Bless your heart, he knew you regretted saying it but you said it anyway. He couldn't let this behavior pass, he just couldn't. It wasn't in his bones. You were moaning and whimpering as your bodies rocked back and forth. Oh, you were full of regret. It was adorable

‘’Apologize. Now.’’ Aaron demanded deliciously against your skin, biting and nipping at your collarbone to torture you and make you weak.

‘’No! You can't- you won't-‘’ You couldn't string together a sentence he was fucking into you that good, that heavy, that deep. words sank into your soul, the realization only dawning upon you.

‘’Say sorry.’’ He cooed.

A rumble of helplessness coated your chest, you felt so exposed, you felt so tainted by his presence. This was something to remember, something to keep close. Aaron. Just Aaron. The real Aaron. The Aaron behind the tight ties and tailored suits, the man behind the polite forms and cooler than fucking ice and steel. All you could do was whine like a bitch in heat. He was pounding into you so hard you were sure your pussy would remember the shape of him.

‘’Come on baby. Articulate.’’ Hotch smiled menacingly, his eyes spiraling in complete satisfaction at how dumb he's got you. An experienced profiler that's seen it all forgetting how to use her tongue. It was cute as fuck.

‘’I'm sorry!’’ You screamed at him, his fingers gripping the dip of your waist even harder than before.

"Now thank me.’’ He ordered cooly. This you could do. He was fucking you so hard and so good it made your head spin.

‘’Thank you. So much, Aaron. Fuck...so good.’’

This he liked. You being grateful. Compliant. God, his dick was so hard it was threatening to fall off. Aaron always seemed to avoid beautiful women, or just dating altogether after Haley - the women he wanted harbored secrets and made his life a living hell. You were no exception, but you were always someone he had to look twice at. Fuck, that face. He wanted to cum all over those pretty lips and in time he will.

‘’Good girl. My perfect girl.’’ He whispered and it sent your body into nothing but a blaze. Aaron knew you were clenching around him, your wetness spreading around his rigid dick. You were going to finish.

Woah. This was...fast. An indefinite ego boost.

‘’Aaron!’’ You screamed, your throat going raw as you wrapped your hands in his hair and tugged tirelessly as he bit your tits.

‘’I’m gonna-‘’

‘’Now cum.’’ He ordered again.

It was like your heart was being strangled and your stomach was doing flips. Your heat was spreading to every inch of your body and it felt like the man was corrupting you- ironic because he's just so damn good and an altruist. You convulsed and a loud throaty moan left you, it was like your soul was leaving your body too. Your cunt squeezed him tighter and Aaron gripped onto you just as much.

But then his hand reached over your mouth and his palm covered your lips to silence the scream that came exactly the same time. Damn, profilers. You came violently around him, your perfect body arching into him as your body relaxed. It was so immediate. It was the fastest you've ever came. Aaron could then clear the knots in his lower stomach as he gladly painted your insides. It was such a fucking relief from all this stress and this tension between you.

It was necessary. You were a necessity to him.

It wasn't professional, but he couldn't care when he was in you.

Aaron's insanely massive hands aided you in getting you fully back on the bed, you were starting to feel sore, and it made you feel alive. He handled you as if you were a dove, gently caressing your skin as he crawled back up into his bed, your head hitting the pillow. Your neck needed the support, the blood had rushed straight to your head and you still couldn't believe you were in Aaron bed. As he stood up to go to his bathroom, he took a second to admire you as you were splayed out like a goddess about the clouds looking down on him: he was just a man and you were an angel. Twisted in bedsheets with a sheen of sweat thinly coating your skin-you looked like a mythical being. Golden.

'What are you gawking at?' You caught onto his lingering stare.

‘’Nothing.’’ He dismissed, whipping his head around as he headed to the bathroom to get a towel. Brooding as always, even after fucking the woman that has plagued his dreams and thoughts for months.

You felt yourself get giddy at the sweetest oblivion. You couldn't escape it. You bit your lip and your pussy started throbbing again.

Aaron stared at himself in the bathroom mirror as he grabbed a towel and put his boxers back on. An apparent blush stained his face and his hair was in disarray. Wow, he really went at it. Some profiler. His whole body was coated in sweat and he felt his palm twitch slightly. He wasn't completely enthralled with the idea of his inability to keep his hands off of you, he was afraid this would transfer into his behavior at work. He calmed the swelling idea as he had to trust his instincts of being completely unbiased. Yeah, he could do it. He couldn't help but smile into his reflection, he felt elated with you. Like the man he knew he could be with you. He went back into his bedroom and there you were laying there wearing nothing but a smile. He doesn't think he's ever seen you this flustered. You felt like a teenager the way you were blushing a light pink.

‘’Now what are you gawking at?’’ Aaron parroted your question from earlier and it made you flick your tongue on your front teeth.

‘’You.’’

‘’Since when were you honest?’’ He joked as he sat back on the bed and helped you clean yourself up.

‘'Since you fucked me until I couldn't think.’’ You replied truthfully, completely impressed with yourself. ‘’At least I can admit it.’’

‘'Huh, I wonder what would've happened if you didn't listen to me.’’ Aaron scoffed as threw the towel on the floor.

‘’Let's try that out next time.’’ You flirted unashamedly. Eyes locking in a perpetual battle, two strong wills locked within mere gazes. Like a drug you knew that was bad for you, but you couldn't help but beg for hit after hit.

‘’There's a next time?’’ He flirted back with a wicked gleam in his eye.

‘’Or we could go back to work. Stripping each other with our eyes. Wanting nothing but to fuck like bunnies. Or maybe even being as unprofessional as bending me over and fucking me on your desk.’’

‘’You never talk to me like this at work.’’ He repeated from before when he was quite literally inside of you. Something that's not forming into your own personal inside joke.

‘’You actually get things done at work.’’ You smirked and he bent down and kissed your lips then the bridge of your nose and then your forehead.

Aaron crawled into the sheets next to you and held you, pulling you into his embrace, his big arms holding you steady. Your hair cascaded against the pillows around you forming a halo-like effect in your stature. Did this mean you were quite literally an angel? His angel? The thought made him hold onto you tighter, you felt it and it made you kiss his lips tenderly.

‘’Hm, so beautiful, so frustrating.’’ He mumbled and you giggled at him.

God, he was so good. He was the best at what he does and he was able to make you feel so safe in his arms and in his presence. A few thoughts occurred to you as you fell into his chest, inhaling his scent as your eyes went heavy. You felt happy. Your dark thoughts were quelled as his fingers traced around your skin. It was like you could see a future where you weren't constantly looking over your shoulder waiting for the other shoe to drop. You...deserved this

But you couldn't have this and your job.

No.

Not now.

You'll think about the consequences later. Right now, everything is just him.

————————

It felt as though Hotch's ears were ringing.

A dull, screeching sound awakened him from the best night's sleep he's ever had, with you, here, next to him. Lying on his chest, breathing in and out, long lashes fanning your face perfectly. It felt too good to be true, for him to have you in his embrace. The ringing of his phone lighting up the bedside table made him sigh, he couldn't deal with this right now. Not this late or early, not when he had you in his arms- that was his priority right now. But he had a job to do, he couldn't give that up. You started to stir from your sleep as the phone continued ringing.

‘'Aaron...phone.’’ You mumbled. Hotch reached for the phone and tried to act as if he had been awake for hours but in reality, he was twisted in bedsheets with his colleague.

‘’Agent Hotchner.’’ He answered as he put the phone to his ear, his grip on you becoming tighter than before.

‘’Agent Hotchner, this is Erin Strauss. We have an issue.’’ Aaron's brows furrowed and his face hardened, why was Strauss calling him at this hour? Your eyes blinked open as he looked up at Aaron, he was wearing his serious face

‘’Involving?’’

‘’Alex Wall. He escaped from prison an hour ago and he's already killed again. Washington P.D has no leads and they need the BAU back.’’

‘’I'll be right there.’' He replied flatly but his blood was burning cold and his heart was thundering within his chest, he wasn't sure if you could feel it.

'’Aaron, what's wrong?’' You gazed up at him.

‘’We need to go.’’

[turn-my-hollow-purple]

What Tropes Would AOT Characters be in a Horror Movie

I'm gonna make 'AOT in a Haunted House next <3'

Eren: he is what the locals call 'the reckless or unhinged protagonist' meaning he is very much so liability to everyone involved; "everybody stay calm, everybody stay- FUCK THE KILLER'S HERE SHIT FUCK PUSSY ASS BITCH"... dead by the end

Mikasa: THE FINAL GIRL HELLO?? The badass final girl who is left standing, tries to protect everyone that she can and isn't making stupid decisions... she's obviously alive

Armin: he's obviously the strategist. "Eren shut up we're coming up with a plan... theoretically the window up there could *insert smart yapping here*"... he lives

Jean: here is your classic skeptic, trying his hardest to be a [delusional] voice of reason "there's no psycho murderer *Marco dies* alright.. there might be a psycho murderer..." he's dead by the end let's Bffr

Sasha and Connie: they're a package duo because they're the comedic relief together. They are in a constant state of joking and not taking anything seriously... "Connie did you see his outfit?" "He looked so fat, that was sooooo unflattering, Sasha"... they're both dead, like two of the first ones at that

Levi Ackerman: he is 'the veteran' as in... he is the lone survivor from a previous mass killing so he knows what to do, how to do it, etc. and is eerily calm... casually lore drops all his trauma.... he has to survive another massacre

Hange: the 'a little too obsessed with dead bodies' character... a possible candidate for who the killer may be just purely because of their intense interest in the gore... they die, proving that they aren't the killer and everyone freaks out

Erwin: the 'leader'; this is a very similar essence to Armin but Erwin takes on the task to actually direct everyone... he dies sorry

Reiner: the traitor... "I'm sorry... a sacrifice had to be made in order for me to survive" (let's be real he doesn't really wanna survive but you get the gist)... he's alive because of his betrayal

Bertholdt: the 'willing to sacrifice themself' character. He sacrifices himself for someone and this is the character death that has everyone so fucked up because he was just a sweetheart... he's obviously dead

Annie: she is 'the lethal outsider', the lone wolf, and WANTS to separate from the group... therefore she's a main suspect of who the killer could be (she isn't though)... she survives and has to prove herself to not be the killer

Historia: alright hot take? question mark? but she's the token virgin character. you think she's pathetic and she's gonna die but oh man THE PLOT ARMOR SHE HAS! (because she's a virgin) and she ends up like, almost saving Armin from death or something.

Ymir: she is the 'one with a dark past'. So this basically means like she's really only here to protect herself and Historia because of the hell she's gone through with her family and shit like that and she doesn't trust others to look out for her. They all also speculate that she could be the killer... but she ends up dying in the end

[albatris]

Tell me about grub! I love grub!

grub!!!!

here she is, courtesy of the lovely @polyacerine :3c

Grub is Nat's rescue kitty from a local shelter! she was a..... gift? surprise? I guess?? from Quinn, although not without ulterior motives >:3

basically Quinn and Alex are attempting to win Nat’s trust and get him to depend on them or even just to LIKE them to start with, but they don’t really. know. an awful lot of useful information about him because he’s sorta paranoid and cagey. two facts they do know are that 1. he likes animals, especially cats and 2. he’s excruciatingly pathetically lonely

Quinn wants to integrate Nat into some of their own social circles and help him make some friends, but for the first week or so after turning he’s too nervous to leave his apartment except for work. he’s super fucking intimidated by other vampires, Alex included, and he doesn’t want anything to do with humans because of his newfound tendency to want to eat them

so Quinn eventually gives up trying to coax this anxious trainwreck of a vampire into getting out of the house and starting to be a person again n is just like. fuck it. maybe I’ll just throw a cat at him?? he’s just spiraling into a crisis all on his own, he’s barely willing to talk to us, and this will maybe be a foot in the door in terms of getting him comfortable being around other living creatures again??

so they get him a cat. Nat is home one day when a delivery of pet supplies arrives and he's like "nononono this must be a mistake I didn't order this and I don't have a pet" and the delivery person is just like. well it's addressed to you so! good luck!

and Nat is busy going hhuhhh???? about this when Quinn arrives and asks to be buzzed up to the apartment, and convince him by going “hey I brought you some blood for snacks <3” but then when they get up there they’re like “AND ALSO HERE’S A PET CAT TOO”

anyway, he’s initially super nervous about having a cat living with him although he LOVES her. because he doesn’t want to accidentally hurt her if he gets stressed out or hungry ;-; Quinn talks him into it by insisting that she is the least appetising creature on the planet because she is Genuinely Just That Ugly and also smells real weird. like literally what vampire would want to eat this. Nat is like hmmm yeah ok

so he acquires a cat!

she was a stray before she got to the shelter n has obviously been through some rough times, though has clearly been a housecat in the past, she loves people :3 she’s old! she’s got elevator music in her brain! she’s blind in one eye and near deaf in both ears! she’s got scars! she’s missing half her tail! she’s fluffy! she likes to murder shoelaces and make beeping noises!

she’s a bit skittish at first, but doesn’t take long to warm up to Nat c: she’s very VERY needy and affectionate, she cries whenever he’s not home, and will snuggle right up next to him on the pillow when he’s asleep. they’re both very glad to have a friend I think c:

vampires are creatures who are instinctively drawn to being warm and cosy and cuddly, so vampires and cats pair well together hehe

he can’t go anywhere in his apartment without her trailing after him and yelling for attention and love. Quinn finds this vaguely annoying. Nat loves it and it makes his heart melt n this weird little cat is responsible for like 90% of his emotional wellbeing. Grub stops him from spiraling too badly.... like, Nat just likes to feel needed and useful and loved, and he enjoys having something to look after and be responsible for :3 plus it's a friendship that's a little easier to manage with his schizotypal anxiety and paranoia, not that Quinn put THAT much thought into it

man idk if Nat actually genuinely doesn’t believe Grub is ugly or whether he just refuses to narrate as such. either way, he’s horrified when other people insult her, but like. yeah. he’s well aware most people find her somewhat bad to look at, and he takes great joy in showing people the EXTENSIVE collection of Grub pictures on his phone and going “isn’t she cute?? isn’t she the most beautiful cat you’ve ever seen?? she’s perfect and adorable right?? right??” in a cheerful-but-increasingly-threatening voice. and watching people squirm and lie through their teeth. because he’s a bastard and he finds it very funny

he does this to some random guy Quinn’s kidnapped and handcuffed to a chair for him to eat at one point and this poor guy is like. fucking sweating bullets and internally screaming just sort of like……. what kind of sick power play is this…. is this normal vampire behaviour….. is this guy going to rip my throat out if I don’t say his cat is cute convincingly enough….. what the fuck is happening

whereas Nat’s thought process is just “I have zero interest in actually eating this guy but he is handcuffed to a chair with no means of escape which means I can ramble to him as long as I want. of course I am going to take advantage of this for a while lmao”

hmmmmm and one wholesome fact is that Nat often makes Grub extremely fancy little homecooked meals when he feeds her. like. healthy safe meals for cats! but still just. yep. he lovingly cooks for her frequently. this is also funny because Nat is a vegetarian and refuses to cook meat for any of his friends (except Lloyd occasionally), but WILL cook meat specially for his cat

he will also make up little nonsense songs about how cute and special she is and he will sing these to her while dancing with her around the apartment. it is incredibly silly and incredibly cute. I cannot emphasise enough how much he adores her

aaaaand this has been Grub Facts with monday!!! have an excellent day :D

[passthroughtime]

Kuwana's eyes look SO SAD in the messy breakup line 😭 that scene rips my heart out every time

he is preparing to have his heart broken AGAIN by yagami who still doesn't understand that he is not like other girls murderers... let my man be pathetic, lonely and misunderstood

well okay that's all fun and games, but i got to say that it is really a sad moment for kuwana. he just wanted someone to understand what he felt and sympathize with him, but didn't get it with sawa, kusumoto reiko, etc etc. this was the final moment for him to be able to talk about his pain and be heard (though he did say that he "wouldn't expect a guy like [yagami] to understand"; the funny thing was that yagami said that he got how kuwana felt minutes before lkjfkldsjf, but anyway). which he didn't get. and at that note, he had to disappear for good and be left alone with his pain forever. i'd be sad too :(

you know, it's funny that kuwana was grasping at straws atp and has found in yagami someone who could at least relate to his pain. but yagami again and again misunderstood his intentions ("so you just waltzed on over [to sawa's apartment]? that's not like you" - "you don't know me well enough to say that"; "so you're gonna murder me, too, then? just kill anyone who interferes with your justice, is that it?" - "it isn't murder. it's punishment. if you can't see the difference, then you can go to hell!"; and finally "murders who get away with it have no problem killing again to keep their secrets. you and kusumoto reiko probably won't be different." - "i called it. somehow i knew you'd pull this kind of shit instead of saying goodbye."). that's understandable though, because insert judgment plot here. he had no reason to try to understand kuwana so he didn't even try to

UNTIL HE DID when kuwana proved him wrong with his actions (or, to be more precise, inaction). and that fucking line of yagami that "if you were that kind of scum, we wouldn't have come all the way down here. we wouldn't have come to save you." in the response to kuwana's bluff about being that kind of murderer determined to kill anyone who stands in his way/between him and his goals. the perfect moment for yagami to say he finally understand him (explodes

sorry for saying all that stuff that everyone already knows i'm just. i just love that their relationship from yagami's perspective was one of acceptance, and bending oneself to see more greyness in the world. because, i think, after judgment he really did need that. and kuwana's case, in the end, wasn't just one of many for him (has seen already that take, no thank you).

and kuwana has finally heard someone say that he isn't all that bad lmao, after 13 long years too i presume. and that was coming from someone he really wanted to understand. poetic cinema, the greatest love story since the beginning of times

[winns-stuff]

I think your right perhaps the appeal of hades is that at his barest hes a rich man who's eager to please. (And the ideal set here for the relationship I guess is to be a sugar baby or trophy wife I suppose?)

Maybe its like those mafia au's people enjoy - like the appeal is in the idea that someone will go to extreme lengths to protect you (in this case Persephone from jail time for commiting genocide) - however theres a key component missing here. Respect. We have NEVER not once seen Hades respect Persephone. His first few scenes is him oogling her from above (so sexualizing her without her consent or knowledge. She looks young and vulnerable, two things Hades loves). Then he assumes she wants to have sex in his kitchen. Then in a strip club he sexualizes her more in front if his brothers (who I guess are okay with this? Even encourage it?) Then he gives her special treatment at work (because shes not qualified) so nepotism but still not respect. Then he tries to hide her from the consequences of her actions via the murder trial (speaking for her as her lawyer but still not respecting her wishes as he brings her up to the witness stand when she doesn't want too) then ten years go by. Then kronos blah blah then she becoems queen and what happens? He distracts her with fucking sticky notes (like a kid) and "rest". He does sort of tell her what's going on but hes still not respecting her enough to actually let her help with kronos or being a ruler.

And Persephone doesn't respect Hades either (walking all over his boundaries) but thats a topic for another day.

I’m gonna say it now, LO really blurs the line between Respect and (damn I could’ve had a word for this but I can’t think of any) I guess you could say Possession.

Persephone is property to that man, something pretty he could look at and make his wife knowing that she has no choice but to say yes. If anything the recent chapters should’ve told us that this man takes Persephone’s kindness as a yes, he rushes into the marriage not worried about if Persephone will say no it if she’ll be comfortable with it at all because why? He knows that no matter what he does all he has to do is whine and act pathetic and she’ll cave in cause he’s seen first hand that she’s a welcome mat when it comes to him. Like I genuinely think he’s manipulating the fuck out of her by letting her think he respects her but in reality he just doesn’t want to be lonely and now that he’s found the perfect wife he’s not gonna let her go so yeah. She’s property now, ESPECIALLY cause she looks like a flower nymph.

It’s been implied that he has a flower nymph kink and the story gives subtle hints about if and I believe Rachel herself has confirmed it but I could be wrong so I’ll let this be alleged (even though I have a strong feeling I’m not) and what has this story told us about Persephone? That she looks exactly like a flower nymph. Let’s take it a little deeper too, who doesn’t all the flower nymphs look like? Persephone. Who also creates flower nymphs? Persephone. This isn’t a coincidence, this man knows that if he wanted another nymph girlfriend he could just ask Persephone to make him one.

[hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall]

A new life - part 2

Pairing: Commander Fox x F!OC

Words: 3 258 

Warning: A fluff with a bit of angst, if you can call it that. But no, its mostly fluff and adorable Fox - you’ve been warned. 

Summary: Chocolate mousses and some caff are the best bribes.

A/N: Ok it’s a part 2 of 3 of the Fox little story. One chapter before smut so bare with me :D 

Fox was a coward. There were a lot of things that would perfectly describe the Commander of Coruscant Guard, but coward was never one. And yet here he was, two weeks after his visit to the cafe place and he still had not contacted her. He wanted to blame it on work, but deep down he knew that he had enough time to write to her. Damn, he was sure that if he asked Thorn, he would be more than happy to cover for him, if he did decide to take the girl out. But he didn’t and he just sat there doing his paperwork, staring at his commlink like it just murdered his whole squad. Pathetic, really. 

Maker knows he wanted to call her. But what would he say? What would he basically say? He wasn’t fit for this kind of thing. Romance? For Galaxy’s sake, he was a soldier, they didn’t really have romance classes on Kamino. He was bred and trained to kill and protect not to ask pretty cafe owners out. He was a Commander of a Guard, a Marshall Commander at that, not a sickly puppy in love. And yet the more he thought of what he’s not, the more he couldn’t help but realize what he was. 

He was mesmerized by the girl he saw once in his life. They exchanged around 10 sentences, she smiled at him, flirted twice and he was gone. Like a shiny that talked to a girl for the first time. A complete Di'kut really. He didn’t understand how it was even possible for him to feel all that to a woman he just met and the more he thought the more he realized… well nothing really. He didn’t understand and part of him didn’t want to understand. The other part wanted to know. He needed to know how the kriff some of his brothers were so good with this whole ordeal and yet he wasn’t even able to send a text. 

Just the other day, Wolffe talked about how he was taking some girl out for a little dinner. Wolffe of all people. The lone Wolfe, the bachelor of the Galaxy, the one night stand man was taking a girl out. And yet he was unable to even write a damn message to a woman he couldn’t stop thinking about for the past two weeks. 

“Coruscant to Fox, haaaaaaaloooooo” he looked up and jumped back seeing Thorn leaning against the desk as close as he could, sending him one of his looks. “Finally, been calling you for ages now!” 

“Maker, Thorn, don't ever do that again!” He murmured, coming back to his paperwork. Fox loved his brother to death, but there were times he wanted to bury him somewhere where even Hound wouldn’t find him. Thorn had too much energy, especially now that the War was over and he had an opportunity to live a bit. “What do you need?” 

“There’s someone for you.” Fox didn’t like the little smirk that appeared on his brother’s lip. That never boded anything good, never. “A pretty lady wanted to see you.” He raised his brow and sighed. Knowing his luck it was some civilian with an issue to one of the Senators hoping to get the message through, only if she talks to the Commander. It didn’t happen as often nowadays, but the occasions were annoying nonetheless. 

“Fine. Let her in, but tell her I don’t have much time. I don’t want to be stuck in something I don’t even have a power over.” Thorn nodded and smiled to himself. Fox was different, he was changing and only blind wouldn’t notice it. Fox has always been stern and by the book, following any order that was given to him. He did whatever was to be done and hardly complained. He did it when they were in the 79s after a couple of beers. It was different now. He acted less firm and more friendly towards the civilians. For those that didn’t know him, those small changes would be unnoticeable, but for Thorn, the one who knew Fox his whole life, they were huge. 

And Thorn also noticed how for the past two weeks Fox became all broody and irritated again. It wasn’t the same type as during the War, but it was there. Of course he would never tell his brothers what was bothering him and despite Thorn’s annoying approaches, he never caved. He just sat by himself all mysterious and broody. So Thorn, as a good brother, he watched Fox to make sure that he wouldn’t come back to his old self. He watched over him enough to notice the change in his posture when that mysterious woman walked into the room. He didn’t know who that was. She just walked in and started to give away free caff and pastries to all the Clones. So when she walked towards Thorn and asked to see Commander Fox with that beautiful smile of her, who was he to neglect her of that wish. Who was he to deny his brother some free caff? 

“Hise” Fox murmured, looking at the woman, like she was some kind of strange form from a different Galaxy. 

“Commander Fox”, she greeted him, putting down a cup of caff and a bag of something on his table. “I hope you don’t mind me spoiling some of your soldiers with some caff and something extra for their sweet tooth.” He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. It wasn’t often that Marshall Commander Fox was stunned. And Thorn was sure to keep that moment in the depths of his memory until the day he died. And of course to thank that beautiful angel for giving him that moment. But for now, he nodded at her and left the room, leaving his dumbfounded brother alone with that mysterious creature. 

“Hise”, he started again, hoping that this time something more would come out of his stunned mouth, but it didn’t seem like it. He wasn’t sure if he was dreaming? Was he so tired that he fell asleep not even knowing when? But it was then that the scent caught his attention. No it was not a dream for sure. Unable to control himself he opened the little bag and swallowed when he noticed a freshly baked chocolate mousse. 

“I wasn’t sure how you take your caff, so the sugar and cream is in the bag”, he looked up at the woman and nodded his head, unable to look away from her smiling face. “I know it is quite precipitous of me to come here, but well. You didn’t call, I was beginning to worry something happened to you.” His eyes widened, but this time he didn’t even try to say anything. He just stood there, staring at her like a man in trance. “You should drink your caff when it's still warm.” He nodded his head and followed her words looking away when she chuckled at him. “I wasn’t sure I would be able to see you, so I had to bring some bribe with me.” She smirked and looked at the bag. “It’s adorable to see one of the strongest men in the Galaxy acting like kids when they are gifted with something sweet to eat.” She laughed softly to herself and sat opposite to Fox, a smile never leaving her lips. 

“What are you doing here?” He finally asked, sitting down. He took a sip of the drink and sighed happily. Her caff was probably the best thing he has ever drunk and he wasn’t sure if he would ever be able to give up on it. 

“Oh, I told you. I came to see if you’re OK.” Her smile widened and she opened up the bag and took the mouse out pushing it towards him. “Try it, I heard from your brothers that it’s good.” He frowned and once again followed her advice taking a bite out of it. She smirked when a loud moan escaped him and his eyes fluttered close, enjoying the sensation of the chocolate on his tongue. “I was hoping you’d call me. When you didn’t I started to question if I read the room wrong that day. If you want me to leave I will.” He looked back at her and frowned. 

He could notice the slight uncertainty in her body language. The confidence she displayed walking into the room was gone. He noticed a slight blush on her cheeks and she looked away to the cup in his hand. He looked down at her hands, noticing a tick she did with her fingers, probably a nervous one she wasn’t completely aware of doing. The clenching of her fingers made him look up at her and stiffened, meeting with her sad expression. 

“I… I see. I’m sorry. People tend to tell me I am too straightforward and too confident at times. I..” She stood up and sent him one of the most beautiful sad smiles he has ever seen. “I apologize. It was uncanny of me to just storm here with no invitation. This will not happen again, Commander.” He adored the way she said his rank, but this time it was different. He felt sick hearing that sadness in her tone and he was quick to get up and stop her by the arm, when she tried to leave the room. 

“Wait, please.” He sighed and ruffled his messy, and way too long for his liking curls. “I didn’t expect you to come. I…” He huffed and smiled at her. “You surprised me. In a good way, really.” He pulled her back to the seat and took his one, opposite her. “It’s delicious, thank you.” He added, pointing at the mousse. 

“So, you’re not angry?” She asked, a bit more lively this time and he chuckled at himself. The woman was an enigma, a complete mystery to him. But as much as he hated them, he couldn’t help but feel positively excited to solve her. 

“If anything, I’m impressed. You were able to defeat a whole Currousant Guard with nothing more than some chocolate” at which she laughed out loud and he wanted to hear her do this again and again. “Flip is right, though you'll go broke if you keep this up. That must have cost you a small fortune to feed my men there.”

“Don’t worry your pretty head about it, Commander”, there it was. One simple word, a word he heard so many times during his day, and yet it was her that made him feel feral hearing it. “You and the men deserve it. I’m happy to see them so happy over something so insignificant as my sweets.” 

“It’s more than that, Hise.” She looked up, her eyes widened, hearing his tone. The little smile was gone, his eyes focused on hers and he leaned forward just a little bit. “I don’t know what we ever did to deserve such kind acts from you, but trust me, this” he waved at the mousse and the coffee, “is much more than insignificant for us, Clones. It’s so much more for me.” His stare softened, seeing a slight blush on her cheeks. She looked away and once again this shy personality kicked in making him feel like he was talking to a completely different person. “Even now that the War is over, we still encounter negative opinions about us. We learned to accept it and we got so used to it, that some of us even believed that we did deserve it.” He stood up and walked to the window, finishing his little piece of Heaven dipped in chocolate. He looked upon the city and frowned. It was the first time he has ever talked to anybody outside of his brothers about all this. He didn’t understand the pull he felt towards the girl, but he wasn’t able to just let that go. “We were made to believe that we were expendable, that we didn’t differ from those Clankers we fought. Even now, there are people that don’t see us as humans.” He chuckled darkly and sighed, his hands clenching. He never let himself truly think about it, but he was angry at those that dared to see them as nothing more than Republic’s property. He always pretended not to hear the words, or keep on going, just following the orders. But now, despite feeling so vulnerable at the moment, he let himself feel the anger and sadness. 

He clenched his jaw, his eyes still staring at something so far away up in the sky. “But you? With that delicious caff of yours, with the pastries from Heaven and your beautiful smile you change everything. You don’t see us as expendable. Kriff, woman, you are the first person that sees us as Heroes!” he turned and started to walk around the office, unable to look at her at that moment. He knew that if he would meet her eyes he would stop, he would fall apart, and he felt like he needed to get this off his chest. It was irrational, he knew, but he trusted her. As stupid as it sounded, he felt like she would free him from this all. “You give us hope, that there is life out there for us. The way you interact with us, the way you protect us from those that think otherwise, the way you make us forget that we are just soldiers. Osik I don’t know you and here I am spilling my anger at you, like we’ve known each other for life. So no, what you do is not insignificant.” He mumbled the last sentence to himself, stopping in the corner feeling so vulnerable. He wanted to hide and disappear mortified to look up to find anger, disguise or just the damn pity he hated even more. He wanted her to see him as that Hero, not a pathetic hut’uun. He closed his eyes, hearing her step towards him, bracing himself for whatever came. 

“So, you think I have a beautiful smile?” He looked up, not sure if he heard it right. He was met with this brilliant smile of hers, her eyes teary, yes, but there was no pity, nor anger in them. She looked at him, like there was no one else in the Galaxy and he felt his heart clench at that. Once again her cheeks were coloured with this adorable pink he learned to love deeply in such a short time. 

“Is that all you heard?” He huffed, pretending to sound annoyed, unable to let himself be even more vulnerable. If he did, she would end up pinned between him and the wall. And he considered himself to be enough of a gentleman not to do this to her. He was a better man than that. No matter what others thought. 

“Well, a Marshall Commander is complimenting my smile. It is worth remembering”, she smirked and he stiffened slightly, when her hand landed on his chest plate. The new armor was much thinner than the last one. They gave the soldiers a little bit more of a freedom to move and with that it was also much thinner than the last one. He exhaled softly when she started to run her hand through his chest. Nothing intimidating, nothing sexual about it, more like a comforting gesture, that he couldn’t help but phantom. Everything about it was just that. Comforting. “I always hated how society looked at you.” She started, her eyes on her hands, and he felt her stiff a bit the more she spoke. “All of you. I hated the Republic for using you as some kind of a tool. I hated Kaminoans for profiting from something so awful as just using you. You are all flesh and blood, able to smile, able to cry and get angry. Just because you were… are perfect soldiers doesn’t mean you don’t feel the same way as others.” Her fingers clenched at part of the loose armor and laid her head on his chest. The gesture was so vulnerable he wanted to pull her towards him and never let go. “I come from a family of people that achieved everything with their own hands, but were always kind and happy to help, no matter how many knives were stuck in their backs.” She chuckled softly, and he felt himself moving slightly to hug her, but he budged, still standing awkwardly at the corner of his office. “When I moved here I saw so much hatred towards those that laid their heart and lives for all of us and I couldn’t handle it. I learned that the people of Coruscant were selfish. They were first to judge, but never able to just close their eyes for a moment and realize that we are all the same. Not to mention that the first person that selflessly helped me was a Clone.”

“Flip” he whispered and she nodded. “Thank you.” She looked up and smiled at him and he couldn’t help but dry her eyes of the tears that appeared while she spoke. “I would love to kiss you right now.” He enjoyed the way her eyes widened at his words and her eyes shined with it. He couldn’t believe someone like her would be so happy with someone like him. But there she was, so close to him, almost waiting and inviting him to make a move. “But…” 

“But?” She leaned back and the pout was back. He chuckled, desperately wanting to get rid of it with his own lips. 

“I want to take you out first.” The wide grin on her face made him at ease and his hands landed on her cheek, softly caressing it. His finger slightly traveled down her lips, wanting nothing more than to bite them himself. 

“I actually came here to do the same thing”, it was his turn to look surprised, his eyes widening on their own. “I… wanted to invite you for dinner. But… I was wondering if you’d like to come to my flat and let me cook for you?” That was it. Fox was sure he died and got straight to Heaven. Not only did this beautiful Angel want to go on a date with him, but she was also offered to cook for him. He didn’t know what he did to deserve it, but he couldn’t help but actually smile sweetly at her. A smile he’s never used on anyone else, not even on his brothers. The most vulnerable smile that was showing all that he felt inside. 

“I would love nothing more.” She bit her lip and his finger traveled back to her jaw, separating them. She blushed and giggled to herself, swatting him playfully. 

“How does 7:30 sound? Or is today not good? I’m sorry, I know, you’re busy and…” 

“I’ll make myself free for you.” Yes, making her blush was definitely the best thing for him right now. “Should I bring something?” 

“I have some wine at home, so you can bring something else if you don’t fancy it.” He nodded, already planning to bring a bottle of white, rose and red out of politeness. “Ok gotta go and prepare!” She jumped happily and was about to leave when Fox stopped her with a question about her address. “It’s on the cup, naturally”, she winked at him and left him unable to hold back the silly laughter.

[cloudbatcave]

Bought indigo disk let’s g - hey who is this cool looking new teacher I want her outfit

Ms. Briar, cool

“Getting to take part in a school trip so soon after transferring here” I beat the elite four, sir

“Blueberry academy” I named one of my pet fish that as a kid. He died from a swollen eye.

Oh we’re going to the Me region (Unova) - no okay Kitakami is elsewhere

Oh you wanna look around the crater yeah haha about that - you know what never mind I don’t wanna be deported to Poké Area 51

Yeah even Jacqs knows this is a hard sell and changes the subject.

“I already cleared things with your mom” thanks bro literally wasn’t even on my mind (it probably should be)

“I hope you don’t mind flying. Or long bus rides.” You don’t want to know how long my bus rides to college back and forth were, ma’am.

Oooh her ancestor wrote the violet book? Isn’t that something.

Man now I feel bad she probably won’t be able to get into the crater, she seems legit.

What? Okay I guess this IS teal mask, the Nintendo store told me I couldn’t purchase it…whatever.

I can be trusted to run ahead to the town and help my sick classmate [immediately runs off to pick up shit off the ground and catch a Sewaddle]

Me catching multiple more Pokémon and getting into a battle: he’s fine. Just give him a salt tablet.

Girl I challenged is scared by me being from Paldea. Curious.

Sorry for slaughtering your surskit, ma’am. And your chingling.

“This is the Paldean style of battle, huh?”

It’s called “fuck shit up sandwich style.”

Oh it’s the siblings, neat.

“If you insist on coming in, you’ll have to battle me first.”

Hey buddy I have a sick classmate to help! I don’t have time to fuck around even more!! How dare you. (Cloud bullshitted every word so as to avoid blame later)

Lmao her brother immediately calls her out, I love it.

Oh wow, a Poochyena, I’m really intimidated by you telling me to eat dirt. Quaking in my boots, here.

Close combat! And you’re dead.

“You know about type matchups, huh?”

I was not born fucking yesterday, girliepop.

“Do you not know about type matchups”

Girl I have never seen your sapient cup of chai in my life and don’t know its types from Adam. Now shut your face before I superglue your teeth together.

“You…Who ARE you?”

I fucked your mother last night!

“Wowzers! You went and beat my sis?”

And I used all of one Pokémon to do it.

Carmine talking like she has any power still. Nice try. Move before I end your miserable fucking life.

“I hope those two kids weren’t giving you any grief just now…were they?”

I’ve met mosquitos who had a more lasting impact on my existence, so no.

“It’s a pleasure to meet all you outsiders”

Knock you off the nearest cliff without anyone knowing I did it at the earliest opportunity, got it.

I get a selfie stick, fucking amazing.

“You want to pair up with one of us poor, lonely Blueberry students?”

Want is such a strong word.

God she’s so passive aggressive. Girl can you quit it.

Sure, I’ll battle poor Kieran. I wish I could let him win to spite Carmine.

Oh well.

Red alert, Carmine has complimented her brother’s battling skill and I don’t fucking trust it.

“I’ll just follow you from a safe distance” poor kid.

Oh boy, I get to be an exchange student? Wait actually I know nothing about this Blueberry place.

Okay even Clavell agrees I should meet the director of it to see what’s up.

Hisuian Growlithe??? What are you doing here?

I like Perrin.

“Are you always this open with total strangers?”

I have six pets who can commit murder, I’m Gucci. And you’re just taking my photo.

Oh god. Rich people.

“Will you duel me for riches beyond your wildest imagination?”

I’ll duel you for the sweet satisfaction of crushing you, blondie.

One Persian? That’s it? Pathetic.

“Spend that reward on something meaningful.”

Setting it on fire as we speak!

[vaguely-concerned]

I have seen people question whether dios apate minor really needed to happen the way it did. it's the 'this could have been an email' of htn. 'augustine this did not have to be a threesome', I hear people saying. and boy do I have an obnoxious amount of things to say to protest this perfectly sensible assertion so here we go haha

1) yes it absolutely had to be like that. It says so on this piece of paper *hands you a piece of paper that says "because I said so and also it's narratively and thematically Sexy"* in my half-legible handwriting. seeing tamsyn muir describe harrow the ninth as a book about being a kid and realizing your parents probably had sex has given me such validation, I am unstoppable now. (to be serious for a moment, harrow the ninth is essentially a bildungsroman, and the threesome scene does a whole lot of thematic heavy lifting around harrow glimpsing elements of adulthood, relationships, and sexuality she clearly finds at the same time repulsive, bewildering and fascinating, and around opening her and especially our eyes to how much john is just a man with human longings still, under the god stuff. dios apate is crucial plot- and character-wise too -- it's a loadbearing threesome in terms of delivering the clues you need to piece together the mystery plot of the book, which is simply delightful -- but even more so thematically. and then the scene at the end where they confront john gives gideon some of that same opportunity to peek into adulthood and go '...well shit I guess', as a sort of mirror, just without the french kissing that time and more murder. the things magnus and abigail model for the girls about love and adulthood? mercy and augustine are providing the opposite-day batshit insane version of that fhdskjfa, you know, for contrast and spice)

2) listen... it gets lonely out there in deep space with your 'legendary unamorous' brother, two infant pathetic baby kitten sisters who you'll probably have to kill one day when you take another stab at god if they don't manage to get themselves killed along the way on their own, and the two people you've spent the last ten thousand years having separate yet connected married & divorced arcs with and also btw one of them is god... honestly a threesome over the dinner table is probably The most well-adjusted reaction one might hope for under those circumstances

3) on a characterization level I think Augustine is actually doing something incredibly deliberate with it: he's presenting John with yet another chance to admit what he did. which is notable especially since the deal he and mercy agree on as a condition for the threesome to happen at all seems to be that they're going to give the ol' godslaying another game try sooner rather than later. (I get the sense that it's not so much that he disagrees with her ultimate goal so much as that he thinks she's being dangerously indiscreet and hasty going about it, before. “though I think it will be the death of us,” huh.)

notice how he's structuring the whole thing: he's invoking the intimacy and love in their strange little threeway relationship and how long it's been by truly playing along with john's 'we're a happy family really when we're at home! :)' delusion (helped along by lowered inhibitions via enormous amounts of alcohol and what I've previously described as a joint mercy/augustine leyendecker themed thirst trap. ah, a classic). he brings up alecto and what happened to her -- or rather, he is clever enough to make john bring up alecto and how she is totally dead, right?? by seeming to make a careless statement that leads there and then acting contrite about it after. he (helped along by mercy, who I think realizes exactly what he's doing -- this is very much a two-man con) brings up how much they all loved their cavaliers, and wow funny how that's been haunting us for ten thousand years now huh :) wow, a lot of our other lyctor friends slash family sure are super dead in the name of some unknowable greater reason neither of us quite grasp and that you won't fucking tell us, aren't they. these are all the main grievances he and mercy confront john about at the end of the book, but put forth much more subtly and not phrased as an accusation -- he's baring his and mercy's vulnerabilities as bait, essentially. if john had, say, a conscience where his conscience should be instead of a black hole, it probably should have stirred something in him.

(also let me just say... the way augustine just takes a pneumatic drill to the TWO tender spots g1deon seems to have and then has the audacity to be like 'oh dear. did that upset him. ooof my bad *loooong dead-eyed slurp of his wine*' is just sooo... he's such a bitch!!! he's the only person who could ever have held their own in a ten-thousand-year bitch-off with mercy and I love him so much. well even if it wasn't all to get g1deon into murder range for harrow I think he wouldn't enjoy sticking around for the 'getting our tongues on god' part of the evening so maybe it's a kindness, really, and totally not pent-up aggression from the last twenty years or so breaking through)

he is all but shaking john by the lapels begging him to just... come clean about it already, to stop thinking he's still kidding everyone else along with himself. it's clear throughout the book that augustine knows exactly what john is at this point -- and all of the most cynical things he does say about it turn out to be distressingly right. john is always less sentimental than you'd think. john wouldn't forgive mercy, he will abandon in a heartbeat anything that isn’t necessary to him anymore, whether emotionally or in some other way. and still he seems to hold out some desperate absurd hope that the man he wants, the man he thought was there, is in there, somewhere deep deep down, if he just gives him the chance to show himself.

(mercy definitely has her own side of this whole thing, I'm just focusing more on augustine because this evening was like. his idea in the first place and I feel like we can Read Some Things into that fact lol. now that we have both ntn and htn to go from I sort of have this sense that the things augustine wants from john are more... personal? more interpersonal? they both love him equally, but mercy's love seems tinged slightly more towards the religious (augustine accuses her of knowing 'only worship without adoration', which like... also the eight house's entire Vibe lol) -- mercy at the end of that book is totally a person breaking up with GOD, not just with john -- while augustine's vibe is more like a man in the last not-with-a-bang-but-a-whimper days of a marriage that sort of felt like it could have been something real and good once but all your illusions about it have since been taken from you and trampled underfoot into the mud and you've had the divorce papers signed and ready in a drawer for over a year now, hell, as it turns out, is other people etc. lmao)

having a threesome over the dinner table with god is one thing, having a threesome over the dinner table centered on the one man and god who has yet again let you down in a way so fundamental it can barely fit into words and who you both still love in a way anyway, miserably, and also just reaffirmed your joint resolution to murder (all under the pretense that it gives your baby sisters the chance to murder your brother of ten thousand years yeah that's why this is happening no other underlying aching emotional motivations here haha)... listen mercy and augustine are simply on a different level, theologically. they've added horny shrimp colours to the religious spectrum. who else does it like them

[proudfreakmetarusonikku]

I don’t know if I've actually posted about this AU I've had which is basically a dark comedy where c!Dream is a serial killer and c!Tommy is the ghost of his first victim haunting him for eternity here, but I’m proud of it so here’s a comprehensive documentation of it.

More Detailed Summary:

It was twelve years ago when Tommy died, and ever since he has made it his mission to annoy the shit out of his murderer Dream ever since. Truth be told, there wasn’t much else he could do, and really, he should have moved on by now, but he kinda pitied the man, with no other friends but him which of course Tommy wouldn’t see him as a friend that’s ridiculous no. But when Tommy accidentally mentions his friends, and Dream makes it his mission to kill them too, he worries for the first time in a long while. He can't haunt Dream anymore if he’s dead, after all, and he doesn’t know what he’s getting into with Tubbo and Ranboo

As all of this might imply, TWs for topics of crime and murder under the cut, along with kidnapping, abuse, torture, mentions of terrorism, and weaponry! Most of it is played mostly for humour, but they’re there (and the serious topics are examined and treated with actual seriousness at times.) Also obviously I’m talking about the characters and shit. I can’t be bothered to write a million c!'s but you know they’re there.

The Main Plot:

Twelve years ago, the body of an unidentified teenager was found deep in the woods, buried in a shallow grave with flowers of varying ages laid on top. Despite the care of which the body was handled, the evidence of physical injuries dating back to at least a month before death and the gunshot wound to the torso gave no doubts that this was a homicide. The case quickly went cold, and only two people would recognise the boy as Tommy Innit- his best and only friends, Tubbo Underscore and Ranboo Beloved. One would grow to hate and fear the law and government due to how carelessly the case was handled, the other would start repressing memories starting with the corpse of their best friend.

Being dead, however, turns out to be pretty fucking cool, Tommy reckons. Sure, he can't feel anything anymore, but all he felt was pain even before he'd ran into that dickhead Dream. Sure, the afterlife is kinda dull, but the arbiter of fates thinks he’s pretty cool and lets him out to haunt his killer. Which he is, of course, doing out of revenge. Not because he's lonely. That'd be ridiculous.

He wasn’t a pathetic loser like Dream. At this point, Tommy was fully convinced that he'd kidnapped him solely because he wanted a friend and somehow decided that was the easiest and best way to do that. To Dream, Tommy was meant to be his Best and Only Friend, and he treated him like such, which was fucking bizarre between being beat. In Super Smash Bros. Brawl. And also by blunt instruments but that was way less embarrassing.

There wasn’t really much Tommy could do to haunt Dream apart from being generally annoying- being completely unable to interact with the living world or appearing to anyone but Dream- but also that’s what Tommy was always best at. So for the next twelve years, he sets out to get on Dream's nerves as much as possible. Keeping him awake all night, stopping him from working, distracting him, the works. One might almost say he’s like an annoying little brother except Tommy would never say that because no matter what Dream says they’re not anything like family.

It’s just he can’t stop, because every second he keeps Dream distracted is a second Dream can’t hurt anyone. Tommy's not the only victim, just the first. And while Dream didn’t want to kill Tommy, not really, but Vikk and Lazar? Wilbur? Those were fully intentional, fully planned. When asked why, Dream would always just raise an eyebrow and simply say he was bored. How his mind worked was a fucking mystery that Tommy didn’t want to solve.

(But, hey, at least Wilbur was pretty cool! They hung out in the afterlife together sometimes, when Tommy needed to take a break from Dream being Dream. He was almost like a brother to him, and Tommy never knew family before. It was a nice feeling.)

During one of Tommy's most useful tools in the haunting game, Distracting-Dream-From-Work-By-Chatting-For-Hours, though, he mentions something he never did before. The two people he'd been keeping a secret for twelve years, a part of his life he could keep his own. His two other he means only friends.

Tubbo and Ranboo.

Dream is… eerily calm about this, when he mentions ever-so-subtly he'll “have to pay them a visit.”. With a visible wink because he’s a fucking loser nerd who thinks Shadow the Hedgehog is cool which he is but not for dumb edgy reasons. Tommy doesn’t fear for the two of them, oh no. He fears for Dream, because he doesn’t know what he's getting into with the two of them. And if he dies, which he will, well… how can Tommy haunt him?

Meanwhile, Tubbo and Ranboo are living a charmed life, albeit one so far outside of the traditional idea of that it’s almost humorous. Living in a shack powered by homemade nuclear energy and filled with enough guns and explosives to arm a small militia, far away from any society, the two of them are quite happy with their life, their marriage, and their not-so-legally adopted son Micheal.

And when Dream comes into their life… this doesn’t change at all.

Hilariously inept at his attempts at murder to the point they go unnoticed, the two regard the weirdo who showed up at their door one day and refused to ever leave with a sense of kinship. Sure, he’s not normal, and he’s kind of intruding massively, but hey, neither Tubbo or Ranboo are normal so they can set aside a couch, it’s only polite!

(Plus, it'd be nice to have someone to fit the twelve-years empty seat by the table. Maybe it's time to move on.)

So, while Dream is trying and horribly failing to kill the Underscore-Beloveds, Tommy makes a new friend. Micheal, it turns out, can see ghosts, and while he can’t talk and Tommy doesn’t get his sign language at all, he can hear Tommy perfectly fine. Tommy does warn Micheal, but he seems to find the whole thing more amusing than anything.

As time passes in the Underscore-Beloved household, Dream quickly learns how much more he's bitten off than he can chew. Tubbo is an amateur mad scientist who can live off the land on his own and carries several guns on him at all times, most of which he's modified himself to be a bit more… horribly murderous. Ranboo seems like a normal businessman in a snazzy suit until he takes Dream along to his “book club meeting” once and it turns out to be an anarchist terrorist group made up of people that certainly could take down Dream in an instant and also whom have way better insight on Moby Dick than he ever could. Now, it’s him trying to plan an escape from these terrifying people immune to simple murder without leaving behind any hints of his crimes for them to use against him.

Eventually, of course, though Tubbo and Ranboo find out about Tommy from Micheal. He draws a family portrait, including a floating, pale figure helpfully labelled “ToMEE”, which Micheal is all too eager to sign an explanation to while his parents pale in horror. Understandably, they're furious at Dream, but they're smart enough to not kill him- not yet. After all, if Tommy's sticking around because he's haunting him, they need Dream alive to have a chance of contacting their spectral friend, right? Of course, alive doesn’t mean unharmed.

As for being able to contact Tommy, well… turns out, being in a terrorist group with a man who's also the servant of the Goddess of Death is incredibly convenient in the scenario your dead teenage friend is hanging around. Philza shows up, and is able to contact and talk with Tommy, and find a way to make him… not corporal, but visible and audible to those around him, as long as he's still very close to Dream. If he goes out of his eyesight, no one can perceive him anymore (expect people like Philza and Micheal who can see the dead regardless.)

So, good for Dream, he gets to stay alive and not turned into the cops! He can even stay. In fact, he has to. No worry, it'll be fine. They're friends, right? Yeah, he basically gets uno reverse card kidnapped because I just think that’s the funniest possible ending to this. Meanwhile, Tommy's having fun catching up with his friends, and Tubbo and Ranboo are starting to get over their trauma there a bit. A happy ending for everyone for once! Except Dream, but he murdered four innocent people including a teenager who he kidnapped and tortured for a month so I think that might be a good thing.

Bios on the Main Characters:

Dream is, basically, a lonely rich kid gone horribly wrong. Child of the incredibly wealthy Dream Exdee (he's technically Dream Jr. but he will punch you if you say that), he was completely neglected and had no friends, so he decided to fix that with kidnapping! Tommy, specifically, was targeted because he thought no one would miss him. What specifically happened during that month is entirely subject to whatever is funniest at the moment, but use exile for a pretty good reference. Either way, he didn't want Tommy dead, but between an escape or shooting him, he chose to fire.

The other victims were out of his own curiosity. After all, from his perspective, he HAS a friend, but he found the act of murder interesting, and wanted to do it again. He found it much more boring these times. After killing Vikk, Boomer, and Wilbur, he stopped because he didn’t consider it worth it anymore.

Dream tries desperately to pass under the radar. He got a management job, despite not needing the money, because he thought it’d throw off suspicion. He wears a green hoodie and jeans at all times, an outfit he picked out specifically to he unremarkable. He's maybe on the pretty side of average, slightly more charismatic than your average man, but not to a remarkable level. When he found out he was ambidextrous, he broke his left hand until it couldn’t work as well solely so he had no identifiable traits.

Of course, beneath this carefully constructed mask is a very unstable person, with a childish desire for control and a cunning intellect. Deep down, all Dream really wants is a family, but the way he understands family comes from his own upbringing, as while he was emotionally neglected he was also strictly reined in and under the complete control of his father. And he'll do anything to keep his utter dominion over his “family”.

Tommy is… surprisingly well adjusted for a forever teenage ghost who underwent several extremely traumatic events and who's desperately lonely enough that he'd willingly spend time with his own abuser and murderer under the guise of haunting him (though, to be fair, he is also genuinely haunting him by annoying the shit out of him). He's cheerful and boisterous, and regards the changing times with a sense of wonder.

Over time, the memories of physical feeling have completely dulled, while he still has all the emotions he once has. As such, he views his abuse and murder incredibly casually, them being nothing more than neutral events that happened at this point, while he takes hits to his pride as far worse and incredibly embarrassing. He does know, logically, that murder and hurting people is bad, but he struggles to see it as anything but a neutral fact of life. Honestly, he even kind of misses the feeling of pain.

Before he was kidnapped, he was a teenaged runaway. His birth family was both neglectful and abusive, and he left as soon as he was old enough to. He wouldn’t say he's homeless, though- he knows this neat cave by the beach you can sleep in! Ranboo and Tubbo were the only people who ever even bothered to do anything but shout at him or ignore him when he went into town. As such, he has a very limited education, along with also very quickly getting attached to anyone who shows him genuine kindness- even if it’s mixed with suffering.

His ghost is quite disquieting in appearance, bearing the injuries he gained before his death along with the gunshot wound that was his final death. He doesn’t have any control over this, and is uncomfortable with it- not because of his injuries, he thinks they’re cool, but because he's still dressed in the pyjamas Dream bought for him instead of his favourite and only pair of clothes he had back when he was free.

Tubbo is a genius unparalleled. When asked to make a science project as a child, his mini nuclear reactor got the government called on the school. Despite this, his true passion is nature. From beautiful flowers to bees and hornets, Tubbo loves it all, and he has a remarkable ability to survive in any situation, and probably thrive too.

However, after the death of his childhood best friend, Tubbo grew skeptical of the law and the government. If they were so powerful, why couldn’t they even try to find who hurt his friend? If they were meant to enforce the law, why could a murder go away free? Clearly, there’s no one you can rely upon but yourself, and honestly, Tubbo likes it that way. He's been living his own nature dream technically outside of the dominion of any government since he turned twenty, and that’s how he likes it. It might not be as cottage core as you were expecting- think less fun rural vibes and more a shack in the freezing wilderness. It’s a comfortable shack, at least- more than big enough for two husbands and their young child, and powered with a now bigger and safer nuclear reactor so their every needs are catered to.

Tubbo keeps at least eighteen forms of weaponry on him at all time, preferably guns, and preferably ones he modified. Laser weaponry? He's got an armoury? Plasma? Give him a few hours and he'll make your rifle shoot plasma, sure. And in the basement of his shack, he's working on explosives, just in case the government come a-knocking. Mostly TNT, C4, stuff like that, but he's working on his very own nuke, just in case…

Despite all this, Tubbo himself looks unassuming. Still baby faced despite close approaching thirty, with curly strawberry blond hair he ties behind his hair, more than a few burn scars due to a few accidents, wide grey eyes, a gap-toothed grin, freckles, and a small frame buried in the warm winter clothing he wears. He looks almost innocent, but if you were to ask him, his innocence died twelve years ago.

Ranboo would call himself a travelling businessman to anyone who asked. A more accurate term would be “domestic terrorist.” Spending most of their life at home with their loving husband and son, every few months they travel to a nice suburban house they bought in the city to meet up with their friends in the Syndicate for a coffee night, a book club, and bombing the homes of wealthy politicians to send a message and stealing what isn’t nailed down. Despite this, Ranboo wouldn’t call himself an anarchist- he really doesn’t care that much. He just likes having friends, and if he has to blow up an empty office building or two, that’s fine as long as no innocents are in the crossfire.

Ranboo developed memory issues after trauma in his teenage years, though he can’t quite pinpoint where it started. Before he got the memory books is all but blank at this point, apart from what Tubbo told him. After is just bits and pieces he managed to write down. Despite this, he’s generally a friendly and mellow person, and observant, witty, and smart as a whip. However, he struggles to make up his mind, and in general lacks a backbone. His one stance he will not bend on, though, is protecting his family and home above all.

No one, not even Tubbo, is quite sure whether Ranboo's appearance is natural or if he's been altering it from a young age. The dark patches across normally milky white skin are clearly birthmarks, but is his one red eye and green eye because of contacts or natural? Is his hair black and prematurely half greyed, or it it dyed? Honestly, not even Ranboo is sure anymore.

Micheal is the six year old son of Tubbo and Ranboo, and despite looking similar to both of them- with Tubbo's strawberry blond hair and grey eyes and Ranboo's birthmarks- he is in fact adopted. Probably. Every time you ask one of the Underscore-Beloveds, they'll give you a different story.

What isn’t in question is that, for whatever reason, Micheal can see ghosts when no one else can. He’s been able to do this since birth, and it’s normal to him. This, along with growing up in arctic conditions away from everyone else (except for when Daddy Ranboo brings him to meet up with his friends on business trips and leaves him at school and he makes the teachers very scared), has left him fearless with almost everything, and fascinated with the macabre.

Micheal is mute, and as such communicates with sign language of his own making, one only his parents also understand. This, along with his budding artistic talent, suggests he might be an intellectual powerhouse like Daddy Tubbo, albeit in a different area. He certainly would have some stories to tell!

Fun Details I Couldn't Include Anywhere Else:

Sam is the mentioned “arbiter of fates.” He decides the punishments people go through after death. He immediately found Tommy endearing, and basically adopted him.

Dream is sentenced to several eons of horrible torture after he dies. He's got the highest and most intense sentence of anyone ever solely because Sam doesn’t like him. Tommy is trying to appeal to be able to visit. To help with the torment, he says.

Yes, Philza is still the literal Angel of Death here. Ghosts are real, so why not?

Wilbur isn’t biologically related to Philza here, he just adopts him after the end of the story because he can contact the dead.

Dream's favourite hobby is tending to Tommy's old “room”- aka, where he was locked up. Its almost indistinguishable from a normal teenagers room, apart from the locks on the door and lack of any windows. He keeps it neat and tidy, holding onto the vain hope it may be used again someday, that it’s resident may somehow come back.

Tubbo is immune to radiation due to sheer force of will. He eats uranium.

Ranboo and Micheal both have very distant inhuman ancestry, hence Ranboo's appearance and Micheal's ability. The world here used to be a lot stranger, once upon a time, and ghosts are one of the last remnants. Dream, Tommy, and Tubbo are (or were) fully human though.

[monster-fricker]

Part 1: Only Fitting

Male Orc (He/Him pronouns) x Female Human Reader (She/Her pronouns) - SFW Chapter, but will eventually be NSFW

- TW for violence and blood. Don't worry, we will meet our orc friend properly in the next chapter, but we needed some exposition first. This is my first writing, so please tell me how I did. I hope you guys enjoy it regardless -

The forest floor was a mantle of darkness and mud. You trudged along sleepily. Judging by the sounds your stomach was making and the waves of dizziness, you knew it was time to stop and setup a makeshift camp, at least to cook what little you had left in the way of food. You found a small patch of grass aside a few boulders and flung your bag to the ground with a sigh. You had been walking for what felt like forever, but you were determined to see the journey through, and rest always felt like wasted time.

Although the forest had never earned a name, it's reputation proceeded itself. As a child, you heard tales of its cruelty- travelers entering and never returning, losing sense of time in the darkness and spiraling into madness, a home for bandits and murderers and other outcasts who preyed upon any fool that dared to step inside. As you got older, you scoffed at the outlandish stories. When you became your own sort of outcast, perhaps by your own making, it was only fitting you decided to leave home by way of the forest. And if any of the stories were true, you would like to find that out for yourself.

It seems they were half-truths. The forest was larger than anticipated with no clearing in sight, despite traversing through it for a month or more. Time also did seem to slip away beneath the canopies, too thick, as if the branches and leaves were woven into one another, a quilt blocking any remnants of sunlight. For anyone observant, however, mornings were easy to differentiate from night. Night was mostly quiet, except for the occasional hooting of owls and the far away crunching of deer hooves. But in the morning, the forest came alive with birdsong, with scampering, with insects buzzing. If it weren't for the fatigue and hunger, you would have found the atmosphere comforting.

As for a safe haven for criminals, it seemed possible, but improbable. It would be a perfect hideaway from authorities, especially considering most didn't have the courage to step a foot inside the expanse, but you had seen no signs of people. No camps, no abandoned fires, no leftover food. Part of you wished you had. It was lonely in here and hunting was becoming increasingly difficult.

You set up a tent, albeit a pathetic one, and spent the better part of an hour trying to make a fire in the wet environment before finally seeing flame. You cried out in relief and immediately pulled the last of your meat, a rabbit you had caught days prior, and propped it up over the fire. A little thing, you wouldn't have to do much for it to cook, save for the occasional spin, so you took a moment to lean your back against the rocks and close your eyes.

"What a pain in the ass," you murmured to yourself. It was, all of it, but you'd never admit you regretted the decision to leave. You weren't even really sure that you did.

A cracking of branches and what you thought to be whispering broke your train of thought. Your eyes shot open, panic washing over you, and you listened closely. After a minute of silence, you relaxed again and chuckled. "Maybe this place does make you go mad. Or the hunger."

That relief was short-lived. Suddenly two figures emerged from behind trees in the distance, sprinting toward you. It happened so quickly that your eyes could barely adjust to the scene unfolding and by the time you had scrambled to your feet, a man pushed you back to the ground, roughly binding your hands together with rope. You squirmed and kicked, letting out a pathetic scream for help. "No one is going to hear you, sweetheart," the man above you said, snickering, "Might be in your best interest to keep your mouth shut and behave." He laid a blow against the top of your skull, presumably with some sort of blunt object, and you yelped in pain.

This only caused more snickering. One of the duo was human, the other a goblin, boyh scrawny and covered in filth. You were certain, if not ambushed, you could have taken out at least one of them. It was too late for that now. Behind the man standing in front of you, goblin was taking large, messy chunks out of your dinner. The man turned and snarled, "If you eat that before I get to it, I'll cut you up and not think twice." The goblin growled, juice dripping down his chin, but he relented and began rifling through your bag.

"She ain't got shit," the goblin spat, apparently giving up, and dumping the rest of the contents on the ground. "A few measly coins, some clothes, and this." He waved around your dagger.

"No! You can take anything you want, just leave me that!" you howled. The goblin's eyes widened, then inspected the dagger inquisitively. He laughed.

"What, this little thing? All you want to keep is a butter knife?"

You could feel the angry rising up in your chest. That dagger, the one your mother had given you so long ago, was more important than any other belonging- if not just for practicality, then for sentimental reasons.

"If you're going to kill me, get on with it, you pigs." You spat on the man in front of you. That earned you another hard blow on the head and you knew you were bleeding now.

"You know," he said, trying to sound amused rather than angry, "I had considered keeping you around for awhile, maybe force you to do some much needed labor. But I'm a generous fellow. If you want to die, far be it from me to disagree." He turned his head over his shoulder and growled. "Go ahead, give me her precious butter knife. Seems only fitting that's the way she should go." To convey his point further, he hit you again. This one left you dizzy.

You could vaguely hear him grunting more vitriol at you and your own cries of pain as you felt the dagger slice into your abdomen, but you were busy looking at the treetops above. Everything seemed so still now, so quiet. The canopy looked less like a quilt and more like a watercolor painting. You wondered why you hadn't noticed it sooner. It's only fitting, you thought, that it took death to make you truly see something worth looking at.

Without warning, you heard a booming growl, too low to be from either of the bandits, a few loud thuds, and screaming. Then all was silent. Your vision and brain were too blurred to make much out, to understand what was happening.

A massive body was looming over you now, impossibly massive, skin like sycamore frond and a hammer swinging at its side.

"Are you okay, little one?" It was a resonant voice, gruff.

Your response was to slip into unconsciousness.

Next Chapter

[oopsimbug]

in which... y/n is just trying to put on eyeliner and harry is bored pt. two

a/n: when she’s back from a six month hiatus after making only ONE fic. wow, do i suck. for anyone who cares, school has been pretty rough. i’m actually procrastinating studying for an exam to finally upload this. it’s been pretty hard to balance both school and writing but oh well. anywho, here it finally is. it took so long to write because i wasn’t feeling very inspired by this. a lot of people asked for a part two and even though i kinda wanted to leave it on a sad note, i am a sucker for giving the people what they want, so sorry if this is a bit shit- i definitely don’t like this one myself. i guess i’m not one for fluffy endings. well, at least for this one i wasn’t. i really hope you enjoy it! more stuff to come, if school doesn’t mind fucking off for a little while (or maybe just forever?) xox -(a) bug

pairing: best friend! harry styles x reader

summary: Harry is worried about Y/n. Y/n is worried about Harry. Harry is solving it by thinking of ways to check on her, while Y/n uses cheesy pasta and the Fresh Prince of Bel Air as an excuse to not think. But what will happen when someone is at her door, and it’s not her delivery man?

warnings: angst, swearing, y/n and harry being idiotos, fluffy end, kissing

word count: 5.3k

It had been a week.

One gruelling, painfully long week.

Harry was biting his nails, staring up at the ceiling as he laid in his bed, worrying about her.

About how he fucked up.

He didn’t think that she would be upset for this long. He thought she would scream at him and then text him the following day, wanting to hang out- a silent “I forgive you”, he supposed.

But after two days of radio silence on her end, he decided to call her. The only problem was that her last words to him were “leave”. She wanted space. She needed to think things through- what things? Harry had no clue. But he had to respect her and her choice to not want him around. So with that, he put down the phone.

But a small part of him (okay fine, a big part of him), wanted her to just show up at his house so they could cuddle again, talking about the stupidest of things while they made cupcakes in his kitchen. They would be listening to groovy music and now and then, they’d stop mixing bowls and sifting flour to dance- well, they were horrible dancers, so more so just wave their hands, hips and shoulders around. It would be fun and would always end up with them laughing at one another. He would lick the batter and she would berate him, telling him that “one of these days, you are going to get salmonella and I’ll just laugh at your stupid ass” and he would retort with something witty and a bit flirty like “don’t worry darling, we both know you would be right at my side if I got sick. I know you can’t stand being apart from me” with a wink and a cheeky smirk. He just wants to see her in her oversized Space Jam hoodie and little basketball shorts. Or her short flower shirt and his sweatpants that she has to cuff at the bottoms because they’re too long. Or even-

He’s gotta stop thinking about her, or his brain will soon explode. But he just can’t stop. He tries to think of the happier moments, like her showing him a tour of her very healthy houseplants that she prides herself in, but every time he closes his eyes, all he can see is her teary face telling him to leave. So no, if he was given the choice to think of her flailing her arms around in his kitchen to dancehall tunes while making sweet treats or crying at something that he provoked, you bet your ass he’d choose the former.

But after the seventh day, he knew that something wasn’t right. This was too much “thinking time”. For all he knew, she could be fine, but she could also be positively bawling. She could be living for this free time, but she also could be waiting for him to make the first move. She could be wanting Harry out of her life for her benefit forever, but she also could be feeling lonely and counting the seconds for their makeup, just like he was.

That was it. He had to go see her and make sure his best friend was okay.

He practised what he was going to say to her in his car on the way to her apartment. “Y/n, I’m so sorry for how I acted. I didn’t stop to think about how you were feeling and didn’t take your emotions into account which was unbelievably wrong of me. I’m truly sorry. It’s just that I really care about you and you’re my best friend and I can’t see you choose a tinder fuck over me and if I saw him in the street I would knock his lights out and I just want to kiss you, can I kiss you, oh god please let me kiss you I just want to-“

Fuck, what was wrong with him? Why was he so upset? He had been on plenty of dates with other celebrities and models and she was always on the sidelines, cheering him on. So why was he getting so touchy-feely about a single tinder date? Maybe he was just in desperate need of attention. He hadn’t had a girlfriend for almost one year and casual fuck arounds also stopped about four months ago, so maybe he just needed to fuck someone quick. That would explain why he sees his best friend’s kindness and natural flirty nature as something more romantic. Every laugh at his jokes, every look in her eyes, every graze of her hand on his thighs as she leans over him to get her drink on the side table next to him, he becomes more switched on and awake. She leaves him feeling giddy and excited at every conversation. “This can’t just be because I’m horny right?” he cannot believe he would ever be that horny. What the hell was he going to do?

*

This is pathetic she thought.

I’m pathetic.

She let out a huge sigh before shoving another forkful of cheesy pasta into her mouth.

What am I doing?

The answer?

Eating carbs upon carbs upon carbs, lounging on her comfy sofa in the most comfortable, yet daggiest pair of pyjamas ever while watching reruns of The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air for the fiftieth time, actively avoiding all commitments, housework and jobs that involve moving further than to the kitchen, which even then was an embarrassingly burdening trek on its own.

But she let it slide. How could she not? She was upset and this was how she coped. That’s what she kept reminding herself as she boiled more and more pasta watching the days pass her by without realisation, but now, she’s beginning to question if this was the best idea. Pushing all thoughts of him out of her mind by not looking at her phone just in case he called or texted. But she was beginning to struggle.

It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t know what inner turmoil she was facing. He seemed genuinely hurt when she snapped at him. He truly didn’t understand why she took so much offence to the playground ribbing, it seemed. And she had to go be a dick and ignore him. He was probably worried sick. How many times would he have called to check up on her? 10? 15? The more she thought about it, the more she wanted this stupid feud to be over and just be in his arms again, even if it’s just as a friend. So she caved. Turned on her phone, expecting there to be at least a call or a text asking if she was still alive or not. And although she did receive a message of that likeness, it wasn’t from Harry, no. It was from her daily water tracking app, pleading her to fill in her daily intake of water so as to not die of dehydration after she was suspected to have not drunk any for the entire week when in reality, she was just too in her head to open her stupid phone and log her water.

Wow, she thought.

Now not only has Harry chosen to not speak to you, but you also look like a huge idiot right now. Of course, he wouldn’t want to talk to you! You got pissed at him for absolutely no reason and now he hates you. He’s gonna ask for his cardigan and track pants that he keeps at your house in case he wanted to sleepover. He’s going to take back all of his little knick-knacks that he leaves over, like the cute diffuser that he leaves because he knows you need it for your constant hay-fever that blocks your nose and then he’s going to declare that you aren’t friends anymore and then you will never get the chance to tell him how you feel and then-

Her panicky brooding is interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Who the hell could that be?”, she thinks. It was too late for it to be the postman with her package containing her entire Amazon wish list that she bought on the third day of mourning to make herself feel better. But it couldn’t be Mrs Xiao asking her if she had any holes in her shirts that needed stitching. The sweet old lady fell asleep at 8:37 pm sharp after her medicine that she’d take at 8:30 pm would kick in (which she learnt after spending nights over at her apartment where her niece, Mei, took care of her. Y/n would learn traditional recipes like baozi and watch movies with her two friends all the time). It couldn’t be Mei either, she was always in online uni lectures from 8:30-10:30 pm, locked away in her little study, so as to not bother or be bothered. So now, a little panicked, Y/n wondered who was truly at her door?

Another two knocks come, echoing off the walls of her little apartment as she turns down the volume of the program she was watching. She stares at the door from her couch, debating whether she should risk getting stabbed by a possible murderer or not, before ultimately deciding that life was too short. She was also getting sick and tired of the knocks that kept arriving in threes. She swings her legs off the couch and onto the floor, pushing them into her slippers so that her feet wouldn’t touch the cold floor, waddling her way to the door before shyly opening it, peeking at who it could be through the tiny crack in the opening, hoping whoever it was wouldn’t mind her current state: belly filled with pasta, hair knotty, giant shirt with sweatpants on and Harry’s patchwork cardigan hanging off her shoulders- which she had been wearing all day, cherishing the pretty piece of clothing and his scent imbedded in it, taking it all in just in case he asks for it back. She peeps at the torso of this mystery person, realising that Harry owns the jumper worn by them, before looking up and locking eyes with a worn out and tired eyed Harry, one hand in the pocket of the familiar hoodie and another extended out near the door, ready to knock again before freezing when it opens up all the way to show herself to her best friend. He doesn’t eye her up and down cheekily like he normally does when she is wearing pyjamas, wolf-whistling at her relaxed state, claiming that “You look runway-ready, my love! Do a twirl for the crowd, will you?”. Instead, he stares her right in the eyes with what looks like almost relief, before smiling a weak and broken smile.

One of them needed to break the silence or both would have just stared at each other in her doorway until the world exploded. So she starts.

“Hi.” her voice hovers a tinge above a whisper, almost as though if she dared to speak louder, this probable illusion of the one she loves would fade away. He lights up a little bit, probably relieved that she started the conversation.

“Hey,” his soft voice matched her volume and tone as if he too didn’t want this to be a dream. “May I come in?” The words sound awkward to her coming out of his mouth. Harry never had to ask for permission to be invited in- he usually just strolled in without so much as a holler to indicate he was present, finding amusement in scaring her instead while she was doing whatever she was doing, whether that be reading, watching a movie, cooking or napping. They were the best of friends and never had to inquire about entry to each other’s domains, along with other small things like if they had anything in their kitchens to eat or if they could sit somewhere, so hearing it was a little disheartening and provoked Y/n to think about how serious this situation was.

“Okay”, she replied after the pause of contemplation, opening the door fully so that the lanky boy could follow along behind her, like a little puppy. She didn’t like how awkward the situation was. She just wanted things to go back to what they were.

But then you wouldn’t be able to tell him you love him... her inner voice argued. And she agreed. She knew that yes, this will be awkward, but it’s an opportunity for him to listen to her and know that she isn’t joking.

“Would you like some tea?” She enquires. They’ll need to handle this like proper grown-ups (which in all honesty, isn’t their dynamic- it’s more like first-year uni students who are mature enough to have deep conversations but still laugh at dad jokes and anything remotely serious, like a painting with boobs), and from what she knows, or has seen in movies when the characters are being serious, is that you need tea or a drink of that sort and a sit down on the couch where you talk stuff out. So that’s exactly what she does.

“Yes please,” Harry’s soft voice replies as he toes off his boots that most definitely cost more than her apartment. Y/n nods and heads to the small kitchenette and flips the switch on the electric kettle before going into her cupboard that housed the mugs. Harry stood awkwardly near the sofas, and to save him the embarrassment of waiting while standing, Y/n invites him to sit with a small, “You can take a seat,” and a quick glance at him before returning her gaze to the mugs to make herself look busy. She didn’t want to look him in the eyes for more than three seconds in fear of bursting into tears and the worn out and tired sight of him. She shakes the thought out of her head and begins to prepare the mugs.

Y/n put two teabags in her mug while putting one in Harry’s. She was raised in a household of avid tea drinkers and she inherited her strong tea quirk from her father who would always keep two teabags with only a dash of milk, and the only difference between her tea and her fathers was that Y/n wasn’t strong enough to take her tea without sugar, unlike her father, who thought that drinking unbelievably concentrated leaf juice with milk was a fun and relaxing time. On the other hand, Harry liked to keep one tea bag in his mug while he drank it, but just like her father, he too took little to no sugar with his cup, being the health freak he was. And early in their friendship, when she mentioned it to him, Harry chuckled and chirped, “Your father is a smart man. He has to be for raising amazing and talented people like your siblings. I’m not sure what went wrong with you though...” while booping her nose as they laid together under a tree for a little picnic. And though she rolled her eyes at him and punched his shoulder for the sly dig at her, she was practically beaming at the fact that he thought her family was smart. Harry had no idea how much that meant to her. Y/n loved her entire family, and she was unbelievably close to them, so it made her entire week to know that Harry, someone she respected and loved so much, recognised how talented and smart each of her family members were. Don’t get her wrong, she didn’t need the validation to know that her family was amazing, but she felt so special knowing he took the time to notice. He did that a lot though. Doing things that meant a lot to her without batting an eye. Saying things that only a person as observant as he could notice, like complimenting her eye colour in the light and asking her to read for him because he constantly mentions how much he loves her voice.

Y/n looked over to the same sweet guy she fell head over heels for, who was sitting on her couch, fidgety as ever, and wondered if they would ever be the same after the very next moments to come. She didn’t want things to change between them, but she was dying inside knowing that he wasn’t hers. And getting over him was not in the question, after the fiasco that happened last week. She just wished she could get inside his head to sate her painful curiosity.

What is he thinking about?

**

What is she thinking about?

It’s the million-dollar question running through his mind. What was she pondering over as she made them tea? Did she want to talk to him? Was she mad that it took him so long to find the balls to face her? Was she as nervous as he was? Was she worried that they would never be the same again like he was?

He was going into panic mode, questioning everything, while probably looking stupid as ever. As much as he regretted how awkward things were now, and the fact that he instigated her to lash out at him a week ago, he was realising that he was not regretting the fact that he did it. He didn’t want her to go out with someone else, and she didn’t. And yes, of course, he feels bad-beyond bad, in fact- for making her cry, and wishes he could take it all back, he also sees this as an opportunity to tell her how he feels about her. He could finally tell her that he thinks about her all the time. About her soft smile, her bright eyes, her melodic laugh, her speaking voice that brings butterflies to his stomach. He could tell her about how he loses himself at work, the grocery store, fuck- even at events- thinking about what she was doing at her house. Was she under her blankets on her couch, watching some corny tv show? Was she baking her signature choc chip cookies that taste like the gods blessed every single biscuit on the tray before they were put in the oven? Was she knitting her cat, Chesnut, another rug to plonk herself down on, with her feet up on the ottoman as she listened to the 7 o’clock news on the radio? Was she writing a paper for another deadline? Something so sophisticated, like the exploration of white and male privilege and how it is ingrained in our society? Something that Harry tried to understand and research so that he could stay in the loop with his smart girl’s interests, but he always struggled with.

It was a huge insecurity of his. Not that his best friend was smarter than he was, no way. He treasured the fact that she could and would whip his ass at a debate on things like the state of the world, or human rights. She could school him on global politics, languages, maths, science, history and literally anything else, and he would be cheering her on. What he was insecure about was her realising that he was probably slowing her down in life. Y/n was well within her rights to kick him out of her life for being nothing but a freeloader and stopping her from reaching her full potential, what with him constantly stopping her from her own life to help him go through shit happening in his. Whenever he was sad, or confused, or upset, Y/n was the first person he would talk to and he feared that she would realise that he was probably taking advantage of her and stop talking to him. And that scared him. It scared him because he knew that she didn't need him at all, but he needed her to do anything in life. Every major and minor decision in his life has been approved by Y/n first, and not because she was a controlling friend who didn’t trust him with his own life, but because Harry needed her validation. Harry Styles, a world-famous superstar, had girls, guys and non-binaries at his feet, following his every beck and call. Harry Styles, who was on the cover of every magazine, known by every celebrity, dated only the most perfect of women, required validation from Y/n, a psychology major at a small university. Y/n, who liked to plan her day out on a to-do list, end up not doing anything on that to-do list and cry about it afterwards. Y/n, who breaks it down to “Murder She Wrote” by Chaka Demus & Pliers like it’s her last 4 minutes and 5 seconds alive on this Earth while making pancakes. Y/n, who cries more when she’s laughing while watching Tik Toks than she does during sad movies.

To celebrities, Y/n was nothing but a regular. But to Harry, she was all. She was the warmth of a sweater that you toss in the dryer for a few minutes to make it extra toasty. She was the pad of butter that you spread onto your pumpkin sourdough toast and it ends up being exactly the amount you wanted. She was the feeling when you are driving home from a long day of interviews and premiers, and you’re on the freeway and the windows down and you just… exist. She is the feeling you get when you watch Pride and Prejudice, and the relief of when you find the perfect word to end a lyric. She is when your shoes fit perfectly, and when you finish a book so utterly fulfilling that you lie there in a trance, looking up at your ceiling at 3 am, wondering how you could have been so lucky to be able to be blessed with an ending like the one you just read. Y/n was all those things and more.

And that’s why he had to tell her he loved her. No matter how scared he was.

***

The electric kettle is finished boiling the tea all too quickly as the bubbling comes to an end and the distinct click of the switch turning back off echoes around the silent apartment. Y/n had poured the scalding hot water into the two cups she had prepared stared into them.

It was time. She had tried to avoid this for as long as possible, but now it was the moment to face the music. She picked up the two mugs of tea and brought them to her lounge where Harry was sitting on her worn in green sofa, staring at her coffee table, eyebrows scrunched, pouted lips, deep in thought, before looking up at her with wide green eyes, and followed her to where she stood in front of him. She passed his mug to him before sitting on the comfy chair a few feet away from the sofa and from him, putting some distance in between them for her sake, so that she wouldn’t try to hug him and say sorry without saying what she needed to say first. Which she needed to start talking about now, so as not to sit in the awkward silence created by the two.

Say something!!

“So…’

Jesus fuck…. was that all you could think of? Wow. I am going to lose my best friend.

Y/n was choking.

“I am so sorry,” Harry’s voice intercepts, raspy from the lack of use, looking up from the coffee table he seemed so interested in. “I am so fucking sorry Y/n. I have no excuse as to why I was making fun of you that day. I pushed too far and I am a shit friend for not noticing that you were already on edge. It was so wrong of me and I am so sorry.” He stopped himself before he started to ramble, looking at her with eyes filled with an emotion she couldn’t decipher.

Y/n felt… unsatisfied. Why did she feel this way? He apologised, right? So why does she feel unfulfilled? Why does she want him to say more? He hit all of the points he had to for a standard apology, so why did she think he hadn’t done enough? Was it that little optimist in her brain hoping he would maybe reveal a slight attraction to her? Maybe tell her that he loves her, and has loved her forever and ever? Confess that she has bewitched him, body and soul so that she didn’t have to? God, was she an idiot. But a lovestruck idiot at that. She bites her tongue and replies.

“Harry, I forgive you. Although you were annoying as ever,” She rolls her eyes and smirks, while he lets out a breathy, half-assed chuckle, showing his acknowledgement at her attempt to ease the lowered yet still prevalent tension. She continues. “ I understand that you were just trying to have fun. I guess I was the one who irrationally lashed out . I am always okay with you poking fun at me, but I was just frustrated and tired and I took it out on you. I’m sorry for the improper communication and I’m sorry for pushing you away when we should’ve just talked…”

“I forgive you too. I think this was just miscommunication on both parts.” He stared into her eyes, almost as if he could sense the discontent in her, but chose to ignore it.

“I guess so.” She halfheartedly answered, not really knowing where to take the conversation next. They had both apologised, but evidently still had things to say. Well, Y/n had things to say, that’s for sure, but she was pretty sure that Harry wanted to say something too. He had that look on his face where he wanted to say something but was forcing himself not to.

What does he want to say? Why can’t he say it to my face? I mean, sure, I’m also hiding shit I wanna say, but I have an excuse. This could ruin our friendship. What does he have to say?

“Great,” Harry replies, trying to fill the awkward pauses and conversation that is being held. He still looked like he had something to say, but seemed like he was not budging.

Well, if he’s not saying anything, I’m not either. Why do I have to confess my feelings and put our friendship on the line if he isn’t even going to say what’s on his mind?

“So, are we good?”

“I don’t know. Are we? I mean, I forgive you and you forgive me, right?”

“Right… No yeah, we’re alright. We’re completely fine!” Y/n replies quickly. Why the fuck would you say that? You’re not fine.

There is a pregnant pause and Y/n has half a better mind to just get up, walk to the bathroom again with her head down and lock herself in there till he leaves again, because she cannot take this awkward conversation. Not with him. She shifts, ready to stand up to get some water, when Harry looks at her, confusion and slight panic setting into his face.

“Wait. I don’t think I’m fine…” She looks up at the boy sitting in front of her, reading the words from her mind like they were scribed on a piece of paper in the blackest of ink, permanent and bold. Her heart stuttered. What else did he want?

“Is everything okay, H?” she tentatively asks. He loses eye contact with her, gaze lowering towards the table in front of him

“I-” he pauses, trying to collect his thoughts while simultaneously trying to explain to her why he wasn’t okay. “I just- fuck” his head falls down, his face inches away from the hot tea in his hands, the humid steam billowing out of the mug and warming his elegant face as he takes a deep breath and tries once more to convey his thoughts. “I don’t want us to be friends again.”

Her heart stops. This could go one of two ways. He could either be confessing his hatred or his adoration for her, and either one would probably end with her imploding. She tries to take a neutral tone when she replies.

“What does that mean, H?”

He looks at her once more. “It’s not enough, Y/n... “

“What?” She is confused. Her friendship isn’t enough? How is she supposed to reply to that?

“I want more. I don’t want us to just be friends. I want to be more with you. I want to do more with you. I want to do things that friends… they shouldn’t do together…”

Is he trying to confess he likes her? Why, in all the ways you could speak, would he choose to speak like that?! She has had enough of him dawdling around his feelings. “Harry, stop being cryptic and fucking tell me what’s going on?!”

“I love you, Y/n! I fucking love you, Y/n. So much. And it is eating me from the inside out. I hate that we can’t be normal anymore, and I hate that you don’t love me the way I love you, but I cannot sit here and pretend everything is fine, because I love you.”

Y/n is stunned. Frozen in her spot. Can’t move, can’t speak, can’t breathe. Stuck in space, and stuck in time.

Holy fucking shit… he loves me…

While Y/n processes the life changing knowledge that her best friend loves her, her best friend conveniently sits next to her, wishing that he was dead for the letdown he was about to receive.

“Say something… please, for the love of God, say something!”

****

She looks up at Harry. Not Harry Styles, playboy, whore, singer, millionaire, but instead; Harry, her best friend of five years, reddened face out of embarrassment. She sees the mortality in his eyes. Feels his presence so heavily in the moment. She is in awe. True awe of him, and his ability to love her. And with that awe- and that stupid look on her face, she reaches up and cradles his face in her hands, brushing her thumbs softly over his plush pink lips. He stands just as still as her, barely breathing, as if it would shatter the fantasy to stardust and he would wake up in his bed, cold shivers running down his spine, as has happened previously whenever he thought of this moment, staring up at his ceiling at 3:40AM wondering why he thought of his best friend in such a way. She creeped closer to his face before stopping a breath away from him, and whispered.

“Is this okay?”

She looked into his eyes, and he looked into hers, both never feeling so alive before. He wishes to tell her that she needn’t ask for his permission, and that he wants to kiss her forever. Eternally locked in an embrace that holds their souls together. But all he can muster is a weak and broken whisper back.

“Please,”

She can hold it for no longer, and leans in the rest of the way, their lips moulding together, for the very first time, eyes fluttering close, as his hands reach to grab her by the hips to straddle him, deepening the kiss even further. And when they part for breath, panting for air with slightly moist lips, they touch foreheads, eyes still closed. Words needn’t be exchanged- everything that yearned to be said was useless, as it could never describe how they truly felt for each other. So hopelessly besotted with one another, that all they could do was breathe together before kissing once more, hoping that their actions could provide even an iota of an idea of how much they love one another.

Two best friends, turned lovers forevermore.

[adhdmondo]

big mood also what is ur talentswap i’m curious 👀

Here's my tag for it for further details but here is a funny silly summery of the cast:

Celestia Ludenberg, a music star who took the definition of "idol" a bit too seriously

Toko Fukawa, a baseball professional that actually doesn't seem to know how to hold a bat at all

Hifumi Yamada, an excitable young programmer who built an A.I. of his comfort character and is definitely not being blackmailed into working for the mafia

Aoi Asahina, a biker gang leader who appears to talk only in 1950's american greaser slang

Sakura Ogami, who dedicated her life to peace; she's a certified mom friend and the only braincell in this entire school

Byakuya Togami, a man who lost one competition and then spiraled into a Complete Mess. now he writes about anime characters for a living.

Makoto Naegi, a gambler who happens to be very very broke rn but haha don't worry it's fine ("^.^)

Mukuro Ikusaba, a quiet martial artist with a hidden soft side (but that's not her only secret)

Kyoko Kirigiri.

Leon Kuwata, a fashion model who's hair just grows really fast okay? leave him alone, he's definitely 100% dead anyway! what trap door.

Junko Enoshima, a clairvoyant who serves as both prophet and god, who knows the world is ending soon 🥰(trick question! it already has!)

Sayaka Maizono, a swimmer who's pretty much that girl who pretends to be dumb so a boy likes her, except the boy is just everyone and she is going to snap at any moment

Yasuhiro Hagakure, a writer- and the only adult here, so he tries to keep these crazy kids from murdering each other (it... does not work.)

Kiyotaka Ishimaru, the "bratty" grandson of the prime minister who says he can fix people despite being way worse. Has become a caricature of himself in order to survive! He's normal.

Chihiro Fujisaki, who doubts her talents despite not only being a great detective but also the lone creator of this world's equivalent of Ace Attorney. Gets a cool hat.

Mondo Owada, a man who has reached peak meow meow status. It doesn't get more pathetic than this. He entered Hope's Peak's lottery as a joke, and got accepted. Just his luck that it turns out to be a killing game.

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

I’m sorry, but can I just go on a little rant about the Louis, clouis, and the Clem comic...? 

I didn’t really talk about Louis in my overall review of the comic because I wanted that to be more contained to the content shown on the pages, Clementine’s relationship with AJ, and her as a character.... but the more I think about these comics and Louis, the more frustrated I become thinking about what Clementine abandoning everyone would do to him. 

[... okay it’s not little anymore since I guess I can never just do anything simple when it comes to Louis, sorry my bad]

So, no surprise, we all know the comic’s bullshit by now. Clementine leaving everything and everyone behind because she’s not happy is dumb, AJ just letting her go is dumb, and Clem going to the mountains on crutches and a peg leg to find this so-called happiness is dumb. 

Now that we’ve established it’s dumb, I wanna talk about Louis because I got a lot of built up feelings about how bullshit this storyline is with how Clementine would not only abandon AJ, but also abandon Louis. 

Because let me tell you..... his heart would be broken beyond repair and I need to talk about why.

Sigh.... so.... muh boy. 

Before he met Clementine, Louis was this laidback, irresponsible, but caring and musical person who kept his head down to avoid conflict and never looked at the future. He was the kind of person who took things one day at a time, saw survival as a day-to-day task, and said that the future doesn’t exist, there’s only today. You get the point, he was never too concerned with things because they always seemed to work out, and if they didn’t, then that sucks and that’s why we should appreciate every day while we have it. 

Louis is shown to be charismatic and friendly, he spends his free time playing piano and card games, but no one really takes him seriously. Not even Marlon, his best friend for 8+ years. While he doesn’t seem to be on bad terms with anyone [including Aasim, they just act like people who disagree with the other’s point of view and have had the same argument many times, but that doesn’t mean they hate each other, y’know?] he also doesn’t appear super close with anyone outside of Marlon and possibly Violet, but even then. 

Marlon’s shown to have little faith in him with the way he talks about if Louis will even show up to hunt. He has a controlling grip on Louis that’s prominent during the confrontation scene when he uses intimidation to try to convince Louis to not interfere. Oh, and there’s the fact that Marlon’s been lying to Louis for the past year about the twins and then continued to lie to his face about what really happened to Brody... which isn’t great when you consider how Louis was the only one who had blind faith in him as a leader and, according to Marlon, was the only one who couldn’t see how pathetic he always was. 

Violet, while having a few more nicer moments with him than Marlon, still invalidates him and his feelings several times throughout the first half of the game which makes me wonder how close they ever were, or at least if Violet ever considered him a close friend to begin with. And no, a small monologue in the dorms doesn’t make everything better or confirm they were brotp the whole time... especially when once they’re on the boat, Louis might as well not exist because Violet can’t be bothered to acknowledge what happened to him or inquire about how he’s doing. I guess she just didn’t have time react while standing in her cell for several unbothered minutes-- no wait, it’s she already reacted off screen. Right. Good writing is good.

What I’m getting at here is that even though Louis is surrounded by people who he genuinely cares about, there is an argument to be made that he’s a lonely person. Hell, he’s aware of his loneliness when he says that no one hears past his music and jokes. I mean, how many nights do you think he spent by himself playing the piano because no one wanted to hear it? Are they like Violet and crack jokes about how he doesn’t have actual talent? Probably, given that someone literally carved “you suck at playing” onto the side of the damn piano. 

Oh, and let’s touch on that backstory of his. Louis grew up wealthy with two parents who loved him and each other, and they gave him anything he wanted except singing lessons. Louis says he wanted to be a real musician. But I guess his father didn’t like that idea and told him no, with the [as Louis puts it] dumb dad lesson of, “You get to be happy, or you get to be rich, can’t be both.” ...which is interesting given that Louis and his family were stupid rich but also.... were they not happy? well, that doesn’t make sense because little Louis knew that if he broke up their marriage, they would be hurt. 

So yeah, Louis was so upset that his father continually refused to let him take singing lessons that he broke into the man’s credit cards and faked an affair, which led to his parents divorcing... and then he spit his father’s words back in his face. 

Then they dumped him at Ericson. And the walkers came. 

There’s so much to unpack from the story he tells that it could be it’s own analysis, but basically.... Louis is aware of why what he did was fucked up, and he carries it with him every day. 

He regrets what he did, chews himself out for being such a “vindictive fuckhead” [and the amount of force used in that line tells you a lot, like how it’s not the first time he’s chastised himself like this] and he admits that he doesn’t even know the person he’s talking about. Yet, he still sees himself as bad, saying that they [I assume the staff] told him and the other kids they’re bad people. I don’t doubt that Louis internalized that which played a huge role in the confidence and self-esteem issues he has during tfs. 

Anyway, I’ll come back to this later, but when you take that amount of guilt and regret, and mix it with the fact that they dropped him off at this school that was supposed to make him better.... then the walkers came and those teachers, staff, and headmaster? Gone. Left a bunch of kids to fend for themselves, with the exception of Ms. Martin [but given how she looks when we find her I doubt she lasted that long] and I cannot imagine how horrifying that was for all of them. The dead are up eating people, and if you die you become one of them... and the people you thought you could rely on just fucking left you to die at this school. 

Every kid in that school has trauma and abandonment issues from before and after the world went to shit, every last one, and Louis isn’t the exception here. Over the years, a lot of kids died and they’ve all seen horrible shit. They all knew they were never going to see their families again, and as far as we know, no one came to get their kids at the beginning. They had to find ways of coping while trying to survive, and all they had left was each other. 

Louis copes with music and games and jokes. He’s built up this persona where it seems like he’s unaffected by the comments the others make, that the death and suffering he’s gone through is in the past, that he is confident and open to those around him.

But then Clementine and AJ show up, and Louis grows close with both of them. They had immediate chemistry upon first meeting, he was the one who looked after AJ since it seems like everyone else saw him as a little terror, and he went out of his way to be kind and make them comfortable. 

When they go hunting with him, Louis and Clementine have a moment after taking care of the walker where they lower their guards a bit-- Louis gives her more in-depth reasons for his views of survival, and going off her expression, it gets to her and makes her think.... but they’ve know each other a day and he’s not quick to infodump his life story or let her in, so he cuts the conversation short.

Then we have the Marlon confrontation scene that I have gone over so many times in the past. I won’t dillydally with it too long but..... Clementine appeals to Louis, who curls in on himself because of the control Marlon has on him. He wants to help, and hell, he knows this is wrong but he’s so used to not getting involved that he gets defensive.... plus, he’s known Clementine for two days, and he’s known Marlon for 8+ years.... he wants to believe Marlon but you can tell he doesn’t want this, either. It takes Clementine talking to him to give him courage to stand between her and Marlon’s gun and it’s a lot.

AJ shoots Marlon and everything goes to shit, and Louis is a goddamn mess. His best friend was murderer right in front of him, so add that to the trauma list, and he’s overwhelmed with all these feelings that again.... they keep getting invalidated by Violet because “Marlon was a liar and murderer, therefore you shouldn’t feel bad about his death. Get over yourself, Louis, you can be such a shithead sometimes.” 

Oh yeah Vi, I guess he should care more about two people he’s known for a total of two days rather than for the safety of the people [including you] he’s grown up with and cared about for 8+ years.... makes sense. 

So yeah, little to no support during this time. Alone again. 

And just because I have to make this clear so no one gets a hair up their ass-- both Louis and Violet are wrong here. Kicking them out isn’t the solution, but neither is acting like AJ was right to commit murder just because it was Marlon.

 But plots gotta plot, so they get voted out and you can see that Louis is conflicted about the whole thing. He wants them gone, but at the same time, he knows what kicking them out means. You can see it on his face that he’s not okay with kicking them out. He’s hurting when he’s there in the dorms telling them how the vote went... he literally doesn’t know what else to do. He just knows that everything hurts, Clem and AJ caused it, and he wants the pain to stop. He even tries to justify it to himself by figuring that they’ve done this before so they’ll be fine. Not a great thing to say, Lou. 

Anyway, we know the story, Clem and AJ come back and Louis once again sees the consequences of acting out of pain.... AJ is shot because Louis was hurt and he made a bad decision that he’s gotta live with.... something that he’s done before, and this affirms to him that he’s bad. He wishes he could take it back, and goes as far as to admit that to Clementine during the archery scene. 

By the way, credit to him for his apology to her. It’s rare in these games that Clem gets a genuine apology from someone who hurt her and doesn’t turn around to repeat the hurtful behavior, y’know? Plus, I can think of plenty of characters who owed Clem an apology in the past or if they did apologize, it was half-assed. 

You can feel how conflicted he is with this whole thing-- learning who Marlon really was and what he did, feeling something for Clementine before everything went down and not knowing how to handle those feelings afterward, caring about AJ and understanding why he thought shooting was the best choice but still hurting that his friend is dead.... 

And the thing is.... Louis forgives her for so much, as she does him, and through all of that bullshit, they manage to develop that strong connection that turns romantic. Louis lets himself be fully vulnerable with her and is honest about his feelings, how she listened when no one else did and seeing him for more than just the persona he put on. 

This works on Clementine’s side, too. Clementine has been through her own fair share of bullshit-- trauma, abandonment, loss, injury, you name it. She’s made mistakes, done terrible things, and has been in enough groups to know that romance usually ends in heartbreak.... and yet, she’s willing to open herself up to Louis and admit she feels a lot for him. 

Is it a little rushed? Yep. Could it have been handled better? Of course, most things this season could’ve, but what we got was pretty good. 

So Clementine and Louis are romantically involved now, the raiders attack, and she saves him... and boy does Louis feel guilty about that one, too. He feels bad enough that he questions why she would pick him because he can’t fathom his life being worth saving over another’s. He doesn’t see himself as useful, and even though Clementine is literally his girlfriend at this point, his self-esteem is so all over the place that he can’t understand why she would have him at her side. 

And when Clementine tells him that he’s too important to her, he’s too baffled to even give a response. He looks at her in disbelief like he wasn’t expecting her to say that.  But this shows that at the beginning of their relationship, he still doubts himself, and through her working with him, he begins to build up that strength in himself. 

He becomes brave enough to share what got him sent to the school with her, and he plays Don’t Be Afraid for everyone at the party and like.... for once, everyone is listening to him. Really listening to him. They’re not talking shit about his musical skills, they’re not ignoring him or the feelings he’s putting into the song, they’re sitting there with him and I just..... if you watch him, you can see that his eyes get pretty glossy throughout the song. The moment meant something to everyone. 

There’s also the fact that Clementine asked him to come with her and AJ onto the boat, and to be the one in charge of the bomb... that’s a huge responsibly and he feels the pressure of that. He starts to panic a bit about if he can do it, because what if he fucks up? What if he gets them caught and makes everything worse? What if something happens to Clementine and he can’t do anything about it? 

She’s there to reassure him that she believes in him, and that he can do this. They’re going to get everyone back, and he needs to focus... then he asks her to slap him which why would you? that’s dumb, so Clementine smooches him instead and like.... he physically relaxes into her because he’s comfortable and trusts her in this situation. 

Also, he loves her and cares about this mission enough to cover himself and his fancy jacket in walker guts.... sure, he complains while doing so but how else is he gonna cope with rubbing rotten guts on himself to blend in with a herd of walkers? 

Skipping ahead so that we’re not here all day, I wanna talk about the walk back to the school because it’s one of the most important clouis moments in the game and a huge reason that solidifies why the comic is bullshit.

Louis went off on his own to go out and find them. He didn’t know where they would be, he just knew that he had to go out and find them after making sure everyone was okay back at the school because he couldn’t bare the thought that he had lost them. And the way the AJ gets so excited to see him? and the group hug??

At this point, Louis has grown so much as a character. With Clementine by his side to support him, he’s grown stronger and more reliable. Remember how he never thought about the future? Well, now he is because his relationship with Clementine has given him a reason to long for a future. He talks about building this imaginary house with her, one he knows they can’t physically build... but it’s his way of saying we can build a home together, that he wants a future with her and AJ and everyone else. It’s such a personal conversation that flows so easy between them. Louis is more comfortable talking to her about things from his past, which is something he didn’t want to do back in ep1. 

He confides in her how he’s feeling after he shot and killed Dorian, he tells her that having a home means protecting it and I just.... it’s so good, okay? And from Clementine’s side, you can feel how at ease she is with him, too. Just the way she smiles at him as they’re walking? like he’s the cutest thing and she’s so happy to have him with her? 

But then we gotta deal with Minerva’s crazy ass on the bridge and well, AJ shoots Tenn and Louis is having flashbacks to Marlon and it’s not great. That’s a whole thing, and he ends up separated from them while escaping.

We don’t get to see Louis’ reaction to Clementine getting bit and losing her leg since I guess that puts a damper on the overly happy ending. But, going off of what we know about him and what I’ve explained [which isn’t even all of it, this isn’t a full Louis character analysis. if it was, it would be much longer and in multiple parts... believe it or not, I’m trying to not make this too long and only sorta failing...] we can get an idea of how he would react. 

Um, to say he was upset is an understatement.

Because remember, he had no time to think and climbed over the fence, thinking he could get them to climb over and they could get away, but it didn’t work. He ended up leaving them in order to save himself since walkers were closing in on him.

But you know that he’d blame himself for the bite. A lot of, “if I had just stayed” and “I should’ve climbed back over, I should’ve stayed with you.” I’m sure there were points where it looked like Clem wouldn’t make it and I can’t imagine how much hurt he went through watching her suffer and heal from losing a leg like that. 

Not only that, but knowing that AJ was the one to do it? And him thinking about what Clem’s death would do to AJ after all this? There isn’t a doubt in my mind that Louis would take care of AJ if she died. He cares about AJ, and he loves Clementine, so he be there for both of them, even if he’s still hurting from Tenn’s death. 

However, Clementine didn’t die. She survived the bite and amputation, and when we flashforward, she and Louis are still happily together. Louis is right there next to her at dinner, and he’s the one to help her with her crutches. He’s there to go over future plans to meet the traveling caravan, and Clementine wants him to be the one to go. 

Oh, and Louis once again forgives AJ for shooting Tenn, claiming that he understands that AJ saw something that he couldn’t. Like with Marlon, he’s not happy Tenn’s dead but he can see why AJ did it to save his life. 

I just..... happy ending. Clementine and Louis are together and she’s truly happy to have found a home for her and AJ with him at Ericson. 

....But then the comic thought it would be fun to say “nah.” 

The comic isn’t canon, I’m still insulted that it would ever consider itself as such, but even so I can’t help but feel so frustrated about how this would destroy Louis. 

He finally found someone he would consider his best friend, not just his girlfriend. She saw past that funny man persona and he trusted her enough to let her past this wall he built around himself. He let himself become vulnerable around her, he named his song after her. Their initials are carved into his piano with a heart surrounding them. He loved her. 

Clementine left him feeling loved, something he probably hasn’t truly felt since he was a little boy with his parents before their divorce. She loved him even after hearing his past because she knew that wasn’t him anymore, and she helped him build the confidence he needed to step up. Because of Clementine, Louis wants to enjoy every day while also looking at the future. He isn’t lonely anymore, he has her and AJ. He’s truly happy.

So to tell me that Louis would wake up one morning only to have AJ tell him that Clementine’s gone, she’ been planning an escape without telling anyone because she wasn’t happy...? I’m sorry, but if you think that wouldn’t leave Louis absolutely devastated, then you know nothing about him as a character. 

This idea is just.... look, Louis is perceptive. That’s a big part of his character, he’s perceptive of those around him. If Clementine was showing signs of being unhappy or depression, he would see it. He would notice a change. He would be able to tell if something was off, and he would ask her about it. Louis is the type of person to ask you what you need. What can he do to help? What do you need to feel better? And if you don’t know, it’s okay, he’ll help you figure it out in any way possible. 

Plus, the comic suggests that there are times where she went off on her own but came back [probably doing her escape prep ugh] and you expect me to believe that Louis wouldn’t notice that or wonder what she’s doing? Wouldn’t sense that something’s going on? 

After she’s gone, he’s going to blame himself for not being enough. He couldn’t make her happy and he was a fool to think he ever could. AJ lost the only family he’s known since he was born because Louis couldn’t help her, couldn’t do anything to stop her from leaving. 

And for him to realize that she didn’t love him? Clementine, the girl he thought the world of because of how strong and confident and in-charge she was, because she saw him for who he was..... she left him, abandoned him... and she couldn’t even be bothered with a goodbye.... that says that she didn’t care all that much about him in the end.

You KNOW that he would think he had this coming, too. How could the universe allow him to fall in love and be happy with someone who loved him back after what he did to his parents? He would feel so heartbroken that he would see this as some sort of karma for breaking up his parents happy marriage as a kid years before he ever met Clementine and before the apocalypse.

I fucking can’t.... I don’t have the words to fully explain how much I hate this. Louis wouldn’t be okay afterward, and I doubt he’d ever fully recover. I wasn’t joking when I mentioned before that Louis would stop playing piano. How could he sit there and play when I he can see is their initials and remember the night she confessed to him? When he named his song after her? Clementine left and took the music with her because Louis wouldn’t have it in him... something that he used to cope would be ruined and that’s just.... it’s fucking awful. 

Not only that, but now he has AJ who I assume is hurting just as much [though the comics inaccurately assume he would just let Clem go sooo... yeah] and he would be the only one Louis would really talk to about it, but then again.... what if AJ doesn’t wanna talk about it? What if AJ starts to act out and things just become terrible and Louis is just too overwhelmed? 

I just.... UGH. That’s how I feel. UGH. 

Clementine from the comic? Not her. She would never fucking do this to Louis, AJ, or anyone else at Ericson, and you would know that if you played the tfs. 

Sigh.... sorry, I just needed to get this all out. I haven’t seen anyone talk about how Clem leaving would affect Louis and I’ve gotten some asks/come across some posts about Louis that have left me incredibly annoyed.... well, I was annoyed before because of the comics, so my annoyances with those things were only heightened. So yeah... I wanted to talk about Louis’ character in hopes of explaining why he would be so hurt if this comic was canon. 

Which it’s not. So it’s fine. 

How are we all feelin’ at this point, by the way? I know I’m not the only one still annoyed with the comic, so I hope y’all are doin’ okay. Hope you’re stayin’ chill and thinking about your faves to help cope with this mess hahaha

[beskar-cowboy]

Stolen Goods

Part 1 of the Nowhere Girl Series 

Summary: The Mandalorian is sent to capture you, he finds the task more complicated than expected. Maybe you two can help each other out. (9.4k words) read on ao3 here

Pairing: The Mandalorian x f!reader

Warnings: NSFW, slightly dub-con for a moment but they both want it i promise, smut, canon typical violence, enemies to lovers, blood, hurt/comfort, a dislocated shoulder, PIV sex, rough sex, dirty talk OBVIOUSLY, major praise kink, fingering, age difference (not specified), me making a bunch of shit up, this takes place right before Episode 1 so no baby

A/N - this was supposed to be really rough hate fucking with Mando but it just turned into him endlessly praising you…. idk what happened but enjoy <3

The Mandalorian is pissed.

He’s worked with Karga for a while now, known him for years. He knows sometimes things get quiet, that there’s slim pickings for the more than eager bounty hunters who will pick up anything and anyone - just like him - for desperate credits.

But this? This was a new low. Even for Karga.

Up and coming Coruscant senator, Karga had informed the Mandalorian, she’s on the run from the Imps.

Mando had rolled his eyes underneath his helmet as he was filled in on details of the only puck Karga had for him. Ridiculous, sounded like a babysitting gig.

“Oh come on, don’t give me that look.” Karga huffed, rolling his own eyes at the emotionless beskar helmet.

The Mandalorian said nothing.

“Look, it’s a job, you want it or not?”

A waste of his fucking time was what it was.

Karga huffed again and removed the puck from the tabe but Mando was faster, his gloved hand slamming it back down and gripping it into his palm.

“This is all you have?” The Mandalorian pushed, voice weary through the vocoder.

Karga nodded solemnly. Mando tilted his helmet at the Guild leader, annoyed and unimpressed.

The man scoffed, he seemed amused, “Think she’ll be easy?”

“A kid who’s runaway from home… I’m not a babysitting service-”

“No one’s been able to track her down. I’ve got multiple pucks on her and no one’s come back for months. I’m running low on bounty hunters.” Karga nearly chuckled.

The Mandalorian felt his adrenaline spike. He needed a challenge, it wasn’t a hunt if it wasn’t a challenge.

“She’s no easy feat, Mando. She’s wanted for armed robbery, embezzelment and suspected murder. She’s a slippery one” He sighed, running a hand down his face in astonishment, a devilish smirk pulling at his lips, like he couldn’t help but be impressed.

Now that’s what piqued Mando’s interest.

You’re dangerous. It’s always more fun when they’re dangerous. It’s more of a challenge, it’s more rewarding.

The Mandalorian had been craving a challenge. Meaningless bounty after the other, cowards, pathetic con men, easy takedowns. All of it, it was becoming mind numbing.

He missed the tracking, the spying, the surveying, the chase.

The Mandalorian is pissed.

And that’s how he found himself here - fuming, chasing after some kid, the tracking fob lead him all the way to you.

You’re on Sriluur, one of the most grimy, crime infested planets in the system. Seems like a pretty obvious place to look, almost too obvious.

What would a wanted bounty be doing herer? Then again, nearly everyone on this forsaken planet is probably a wanted bounty somewhere, by someone. 

Maybe this is a very calculated move, hiding out amongst a never ending crowd of lowlifes and criminals, you just blend in, become faceless in a way.

But you, you couldn’t be more obvious even if you tried.

Mando finds you in a cantina: grimy, dingy, damp and dark. He’s confused, to say the least. You…. you don’t belong here.

There’s no way that you’re the one he’s chasing, the one he’s hunting, the one accused of robbery, embezzelment, suspected murder, on the run from the fucking Imps. The tracking fob went berserk when it landed on you, he had thought it was broken because there was no way it was you.

A runaway from Coruscant, an up and coming senator.

That all makes sense now that Mando’s looking at you. You fit the part, you’re clearly young, beautiful, fucking beautiful - Mando stays on that thought for a while, trying to make sense of it, make sense of you.

Why are you doing this? What do you have to gain, what are you running from?

You stand out from everyone here on this fucking planet, you’re a light amongst black holes, how do you not immediatetly make yourself a target?

He watches you for the most part of the afternoon from a dark corner of the cantina. He wonders what, or who, you’re waiting for. You’re armed - heavily armed for someone your size - like Karga said you’d be. Two blasters and some sort of rifle slung over one of your shoulders, three daggers and a vibroblade stashed in your jacket, all probably stolen, Mando decides.

Your eyes shine bright like suns, like jewels, glossy even in the low light of the cantina, they shine with something Mando knows too well: some sort of emptiness, bitterness, the need for something no one will give you, something you have to take yourself.

Two men step into the bar, they spot you before you spot them, Mando clocks. His heart rate picks up and he keeps his hand over his blaster, watching you, watching them. They sit themselves down at a table across the cantina from you.

The air shifts, it becomes too quiet and heavy with unsaid potential and Mando can’t be the one to move first, he’ll ruin whatever it is that’s building right now.

A blaster goes off.

One of the men falls face first onto the table he’s sat at - shot through the stomach, a singeing red, burning hole left on his lower half from underneath the table.

Things seem to move in slow motion: you rise from your corner, blaster outstretched towards the now lone man, him rushing towards the back entrance. Mando follows behind you as you chase after the man, shouting out at him, shouting out a name, one Mando doesn’t recognize and he feels so out of place.

He stays near the doorway, watching as you corral the man out in the alleyway, in plain daylight and hold him at gunpoint.

The good thing about being on a planet like Sriluur is that no one bats an eye at street violence, no one’s going to snitch on a good alley fight.

You cuff him almost too easily, knocking him to the ground with an easy kick of the leg. You’re good, clean and swift - Mando guesses you have to be since you’ve been on the run for so long.

It also doesn’t hurt that you’re stupidly pretty, he can’t help but think.

“Where’s the loading dock?” You interrogate the man, blaster pressed to the back of his head as your boot stomps him into the ground, hands cuffed behind his back.

Your voice goes straight to Mando’s belly igniting something akin to a volcanic eruption or a swarm of butterflies - which one, he’s not sure but fuck did you sound sweet. To sweet to be so fucking fierce.

“Y-You won’t reach it before the shipment.” The man groans, face grimaced in pain as you press into his back harder, jamming the nozzle of the blaster into his neck.

“Where is it?” You grit from behind clenched teeth, cocking the gun. The man quivers, lip trembling as he tries to wriggle out of your grip but you’ve got him right where you want him.

“Out- out west! Past the badlands, into the desert but you won’t make it on foot-”

Like an idiot, Mando’s tracking fob slips from his pocket and both the man and you snap your heads in his direction, like he interrupted some sort of performance.

Your eyes land on the tracking fob before Mando can say anything, your blaster goes off and the man’s head thuds against the ground, dark syrupy blood pouring out from the back of his skull.

You got what you needed, so you make a run for it.

The Mandalorian calls after you but you bolt quickly down the alleyway, making as many sharp turns as possible to throw him off. You run with no particular direction, no set route in mind. You’ll head west once you’re sure he’s gone but you have to lose him first.

A Mandalorian, you can’t believe they sent a fucking Mandalorian after you.

You whiz down the streets of the criminal planet, pushing past vendors, scammers and junkies alike, trying to lose yourself in the crowd. You’re quite good at it actually, making a run for it, losing a hunter, but he’s got a tracking fob. That’ll be a challenge.

Glancing behind you, you see no shiny helmet bouncing through the crowd, you don’t want to be so bold to assume you’ve already lost him so you keep running. You decide to run towards your speeder, if you can’t out run him you can definitely gain some distance between the two of you this way.

Looking around you, you situate yourself, trying to figure out which way to run in order to make it to your speeder as quickly as possible and out run the fucking Mandalorian.

It must be a few blocks down, you run further south into the downtown area, knowing you hid it in an alleyway near a picked over fruit stand.

You’re close, you’re so close to your bike, just a few more blocks.

You round another corner, searching your pockets for your keys and that’s when he smashes into you, knocking you to the ground.

Pain radiates through your body from the impact of unforgiving beskar, your ears ring and your eyes go blurry.

You reach for your vibroblade, managing to knock his helmet with your elbow in the process. The Mandalorian goes down and you roll yourself over, trying to disarm him only to find that he holds neither a blaster nor cuffs.

What?

Was he not after you? Was he not just hunting you down?

Your lapse of confusion breaks your concentration and he manages to pin you down, rolling you over and pinning your hands above your head as he sits himself on your chest. The wind is nearly knocked out of you as he crushes you into the dirt with his weight, stars fog your vision as a headache sets in, ears possibly bleeding. You feel like you’ve been hit with a gong.

“W-Who sent you?” You try to ask, voice fuzzy as your head pounds. You can barely focus on him, on the intimidating T shape of his visor as he pears down at you from above.

You should be terrified, you should be trying to push him off of you but you don’t feel threatened. He’s unarmed. You're still trying to figure out why.

Mando has a moment to take you in now, realizing that Karga was right; you really are young. Not that young just, younger than him and sparkling in the daylight where he can see all of you now.

Your face, your eyes, perfect eyebrows, a scar on your cheek that Mando finds himself wanting to touch. You’re pretty and... dirty. Gritty. Like you coated yourself in something in order to fit in better amongst the scum here.

“Doesn’t matter.” He grunts, easy up his hold on you once he realizes he’s practically smothering you.

You groan, eyes squinting, the sun suddenly seeming harsher now, hurting your eyes. Your vision slowly comes back, things aren't as blurry and you’re overwhelmed by how close he is.

“Why are you doing this?” The Mandalorian asks.

You don’t know what he means by ‘this’, so you grunt and push him off of you, he lets you, rolling off to the side. You’re dizzy as you stand up, trying to find your footing and shooting the Mandalorian and more than confused glare. What the fuck is he trying to pull right now?

You both know he’s here for you, he’s literally got your tracking fob beeping on his holster.

But he’s not cuffing you, he’s not threatening you. You’re both just… starring. At each other.

Maybe it’s a moment of recognition, acknowledging whatever it is that’s going on here. He’s after you, but he’s… not? You should be the one asking questions.

You let your hand slide up over your shoulder, reaching for your rifle but you’re stopped short by a flashing bright pain in your shoulder. You wince, hissing and bringing your arm back down to your side.

You give the Mandalorian a daggering glare before you turn to inspect your bike, checking to make sure nothing’s been stolen from your satchel which you stupidly left slung over the back while you were in the cantina.

Fuck, he really had slammed into you, hadn’t he? He came at you full speed, knocking you down to the ground with his entire body weight and then fucking sitting on you, like an idiot. He hadn’t necessarily meant to do that, he’s not quite sure why he feels so bad but, he does.

“Why are you running away from Coruscant?” He presses and you roll your eyes, even though your back is turned on him now, trying to ignore the late onset pain searing through your shoulder.

You stay silent, just focusing on making sure everything’s in your bag so that you can head out to the -

“What loading dock are you looking for?”

You whip around towards the Mandalorian, hand on your smaller blaster, prepared to pull it on him.

“What do you know about the loading dock?” You seethe.

The Mandalorian keeps a steady watch on your hand, twitching over your blaster. He raises his hands in surrender. Maker, you’re jumpy.

“Nothing more than you do.”

You fling your blaster from your holster, finger on the safety trigger and aim it at the heavily armoured Mandalorian.

You mentally curse yourself, how ironic would it be if your blaster fire ricocheted off of his arm and came back at you.

Better have good aim then. You flick it over that spot near his belly, where the armour separates. Maybe you should shoot him in the arm, get him back for what feels like a dislocated shoulder.

Even Mando can notice how your arm hangs heavy by your side, how you hold back from moving it too much, your balance nearly thrown off due to the now useless limb. That needs to be popped back into place.

“Who are you?” You seethe, trying to get him to focus, take you seriously.

“I just want to help.” He speaks softly, voice coming out low from his vocoder. Maybe it would sound nicer if you weren’t on the verge of shooting him.

You roll your eyes, switching off your safety and cocking your blaster. “Better think of something fast, shiny.”

“I can help you get there. I-I can help you reach the dock.”

That piques your interest. Fine, you’ll humor him.

“I’m fine with my speeder-”

“It’s broken.”

What?

You squint in the Mandalorian’s direction, not quite believing him and not wanting to take your eyes off of him to inspect your speeder.

“How do you know it's broken?”

The Mandalorian can’t help but grin underneath his helmet. You take his silence as your answer and you growl something incoherent, chucking your blaster onto the dirt and turning around to inspect your bike.

Mando had managed to track your speeder down before he found you in the cantina. He saw you pull up on it and followed your dark figure into the city before he even got a good look at you, just trusting the fob.

He took out your engine, destroyed it, you see pieces of it now scattered amongst the alley. You kick the now useless speeder, much like your useless arm. Was he trying to take you down slowly? Break you apart piece by piece like a slow and easy kill? He’s toying with you.

“I have a ship.” The Mandalorian speaks, breaking the tense silence.

You turn to face him again, he leans against the opposite side of the narrow alley. “What’s in it for you?”

The Mandalorian says nothing, he keeps his visor trained on you but he nervously fiddles with his own fingers.

“What do you gain from helping me? Aren’t I just a bount-”

“I have a feeling I’m after the wrong person.”

Oh?

“Bold of you to assume.” You scoff, nearly laughing at him but you don’t want to waste this opportunity. It’s not everyday you’re offered the services of a Mandalorian. You’re just not sure if you can trust him yet.

“Tell me what you’re after.” He presses again.

You’re reluctant to talk. Opening up isn’t your… speciality, so to say. Especially not with strangers. Especially not strangers who have a fucking tracking fob on you.

Fuck. You don’t see how you have any other options right now. A broken speeder and a useless arm, you realize it’s this guy or nothing.

You groan something frustrated and slightly pained. “Fine. I’ll fill you in on the way, shiny.”

//

You were born into it, as most people are on Coruscant.

Born to a cold, unforgiving family focused on politics and appearances. You were always going to become a senator or something of the sort, you had informed Mando.

None of the kids had a choice and no one cared to do anything about it, no one cared to change things, help the planets that were being robbed and forgotten about. So you had decided to do something about it.

You broke free a few years ago and have been robbing from the Imperials ever since. They have these fancy, luxurious, expensive getaway houses and cottages all across the galaxy and you follow them like bread crumbs on a trail.

The cottages usually indicate some sort of side business, the Imperials leaving their families to go on a ‘business vacation’ - which really means illegal government shit, obviously.

Planets which house their cottages also house their loading docks, outposts, trading posts, anything that helps them keep the wealth in this incognito backtrade, away from the official systems and taxes, just continuously fueling the 1%.

But you, you’d been stealing from them. You infiltrate the loading docks and outposts, you reroute the goods to the planets and communities that the corrupt government forgets about, like Sorgan, Kashyyyk and Endor to name a few. You make sure they get what they need, what the higher ups try to keep for themselves.

You steal it from them and redistribute it equally, fairly - leaving none for those in Coruscant.

He doesn’t feel sorry for you; you’ve had nothing but privilege your whole life, you chose to leave it, to fight for something. You took it upon yourself to stand up and fight the only life you’ve ever known.

He doesn’t feel sorry for you, but Maker are you good.

You have a purpose, something to fight for, something that drives you every single day. Something you care about. That’s not something a lot of people can say they have, definitely  not some criminal on Sriluur, or even a bounty hunter like him.

No wonder the Imps are after you. You’re killing men left and right with such ease it seems. You’re fucking good to have been on the run for this long, to be this successful.

Mando’s just thankful he didn’t turn you into them with what limited information Karga gave him. It’s a good thing you’re pretty.

“Not everyone can be a mindless cog in the machine, one piece breaks loose and the whole thing falls apart.” You explain while you and the Mandalorian trek through the cool, dark and seemingly never ending desert of Sriluur.

You had told him that you couldn’t fly too close to the loading dock. They’re armed, they have men on the lookout, radars searching for ships flying overhead. You had said they would see you coming from a mile away, way before you would even see them.

So Mando landed the ship quite a distance aways, just outside of the Badlands. You would have to walk the rest of the way, through the night so that you make it there in the early morning.

“I realized it was either going to be me or someone else who was going to have to make the first move, and I was tired of waiting for something to happen so I just… I just ran.” You shrug, as best as you can with your fucked up shoulder but you wince at the dull pain.

You’d been walking for hours now, and your arm was only hurting more and more. Mando would have to do something before you reached the dock, there was no way you’d be able to fight, or even shoot, in this condition.

“Let me look at yo-” The Mandalorian reaches out to you but you jerk away from him, grimacing again at the dull pain which radiates throughout the heavy limb.

“I’m fine.” You groan, supporting your arm with your other one, trying to hold up the dead weight.

“You’re not.”

You groan. He’s right, you know it. You know he is but you don’t want to go through with having a stranger pop your arm back into place.

Weighing your options, you come up on a dead desert tree and you quickly lean your weight on the dead and hollow bark, trying to calm yourself down and breathe through your nose.

“I can help.” He offers, hands twitching near his sides.

You glare at him, look him up and down as he slowly approaches you. You say nothing, he takes this as confirmation.

Gently, the Mandalorian takes your forearm into his gloved hands, taking some of the dead weight for you and you sigh a bit at the relief.

“You ever done this before?” You ask, trying to make small talk and distract from the way he’s touching you so preciously, how close he’s standing to you. Whatever, whatever, whatever, this is totally fine.

“Nope.” Great.

Mando can see the fear in your eyes, the fear of the sudden pain that’ll come with snapping your arm back into its socket, the fear that he might fuck it up. He knows you don’t trust him, he knows you’re letting your guard down for this, to let him help you. He thinks you’re brave for that.

So he takes off his gloves.

And you watch in a mix of amazement and shock at the tanned and calloused skin which is slowly revealed to you. “H-Hey isn’t that not allow-”

“Shut up.” The Mandalorian grunts, voice deep and gravely and regrettably making your stomach flutter. You swallow your protests and let him do what he needs to do.

He inspects your arm and you let him, somewhat losing yourself to the touch of another, skin on skin - his warm and weathered hands on your hot flesh. It feels good, a nice contrast to how he body slammed you earlier today.

The Mandalorian sighs. “Mando.”

“What?”

“My name, call me Mando.” He tells you, visor trained heavily on you, gauging your every reaction.

“O-Okay.” You gulp, unable to look away from the pitch black, intimidating T of his visor. You didn’t realize how close he was to you, you think you can hear him breathing under that helmet of his.

“Let me hear you say it.” His hands wrap around your bicep, testing the muscle it seems and your face burns at his tone, how deep his voice has gotten.  

“M-MandOH!” He jerks your arm upwards right as you say his name and he watches your face twist in pain. That fucker. He was trying to distract you and it worked.

“Okay, okay- is it in?” You ask as a sweat breaks out on your hairline from the pain, your body quickly overheating as you breathe heavily.

“No.” Mando answers. You’re about to go off on him when he continues, “Y-You’ll have to take your shirt off… I can’t see the muscles like this.”

“You’re kidding me.” You groan, eyes closing tight as you try to calm yourself down, your mind growing heavy.

You can’t believe this is fucking happening, this day is not going at all how you planned. Regardless, you use your still intact arm to reach for the hem of your shirt and pull it over your torso as much as you can before the pain from your other arm stops you with a pained moan.

“Here-”

Mando moves closer and nearly pins you to the tree, grabbing the hem of your shirt into his hand and gently pulling it the rest of the way, careful to remove it from your injured arm before he tosses it over his shoulder so it doesn’t get covered in sand.

Mando doesn’t look - he swears he doesn’t…. Until he does.

His burnt red breast plate is nearly grazing against your chest, barely covered by the thin material of your bra.

Your chest heaves with pain laced breaths, your body trying to regulate something to get anything under control again. The curves of your breasts shine with sweat, you glimmer in the moonlight and Mando finds himself wanting more and more to put you at ease, to lick you, taste you, clean you of your sweat with his own tongue - you pretty, young thing.

His head is getting foggy, he needs to focus on the task at hand but that isn’t so easy when the task is you.

Mando looks up to find your eyes growing heavy, your body growing tired with exertion and going numb to the pain.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay.” Mando reassures, the hand which isn’t supporting your arm coming up to hold your jaw, hold your head up, thumb caressing your cheek. You smile groggily.

“Y-You’re… you’re fault.”

Yeah, he knows that. He could have looked where he was going and not have rammed you into the ground and this whole ordeal could have been avoided.

“I know. I… I’m sorry. We’re almost done.” You take it he doesn’t apologize often and you giggle dopily.

Your eyes droop and Mando gets nervous. He taps your cheek a few times, your skin hot to the touch and it worries him.

“Okay eyes on me, pretty girl.” You hum something content, trying to wiggle your body closer to his but he holds you tight, keeps you pinned against the tree. That’s hot.

“You called me- called me pretty.”

“Yeah, yeah I did, now keep looking at me, okay” Mando flushes underneath his helmet but he returns his attention to your supple arm, grabbing the fleshy area near your shoulder tight. His touch is so wicked, it burns. You hate it.

“Okay, shiny.”

Mando grabs your shirt off of his shoulder and brings it to your mouth, ordering you to ‘bite’. He shoves it into your mouth, your saliva quickly soaking into the fabric and Mando has to look away from your pretty little mouth.

“It’s going to hurt.” He tells you and you grumble something back to him but it's muffled by the pretty fabric he tucked into your mouth.

Your eyes are nearly glazed over, shiny and heavy and he’s so fucked for thinking about how you’d look just like this if he fucked you until you were numb, rendered dumb and thoughtless at the end of his cock. All fucking shiny, wet and-

You scream as he whips your shoulder bone back into its socket.

Tears slip past your eyes and drool spills from between your lips and into your shirt. The skin of your arm is hot to the touch but it’s there, it's back in place. Mando did it.

He lets you cry, lets you fall forward into him and sob into his cowl. Mando holds you against him and gently rubs the muscle of your shoulder through your flesh, making sure everything is okay and in the right place. You twitch in his hold, trying to get away from his touch by retreating back further into him. It makes his cock twitch.

Mando shushes you, massaging up and down your arm as you shiver in his hold, overcome with adrenaline and exertion. You feel completely wiped out from the pain alone but your body jitters with energy.

“T-Thanks.” You tremble, voice exhausted but it seems like your senses are already coming back to you.  

You pull away from Mando and take your shirt into your hands again, carefully shrugging it back on and ignoring the giant wet spot from your own spit. That was fucking humiliating.

Mando doesn’t respond, he just nods and watches as you cover yourself back up again. He already misses the fleshy warmth of your body against his hard and cold one.

You breathe a bit heavily, still winded from everything that’s just happened: your arm being snapped back into place, how close Mando was to you, how he touched you, manipulated your body so easily.

He called you pretty.

You mentally scoff at yourself, so fucking what?

You try not to care, you try to move on from that, but you tuck it away first; the way his voice sounded as he tried to soothe you, calm you down. You tuck that away for later, for when you’re alone again after all of this is over.

You grunt as you sling your rifle back over your shoulder, “Let’s keep moving.”

//

You reach the loading dock as the sun threatens to touch the horizon, the sky only starting to become a lighter shade of blue, signaling the early morning.

The perimeter is easy to breach, you get inside with few casualties. They only seem to have a few men patrolling this early in the morning - their weak spot, so it seems.

Mando willingly helps you and you’re grateful for the second pair of hands, you’re not used to having backup. You usually go in and come out alone. But you welcome this, he makes it too easy, it was already easy enough on your own, save for a few close calls over the years but he makes it easy.

With the two of you, you take them down and make good time of it too. You should be out of here, with the shipment of goods rerouted in under an hour.

And you do.

Everything works: you get the shipment out and you run out of the loading dock without much trouble, escaping blaster fire as you run back off into the desert, towards Mando’s ship.

He covers you, shields you with his armed body as you make a run for it, avoiding the open fire which has begun to rain down upon you. Someone must have sent a distress signal. It doesn’t matter though, the money is off to a deserving planet and you’ve got a Mandalorian shielding you with his own body. You did it.

You’re practically vibrating as you run up the open hull to the ship, losing the Imps and their men through the Badlands. You’re safe, you made it.

Mando closes the ramp before you’re even up all the way and you fall into him. He gives you no time to recover, hauling you further into the ship, dropping you in the copilot seat, setting coordinates to who knows where as the Razor Crest lifts into the air, beaming into hyperspace.

You’re panting, you’re both painting and breathing heavily. You barely notice that he’s up from his seat, crouching below you as he feels you over, squeezing your arms, like he’s trying to make sure you’re okay and you want to push him away for it, push him off of you but you can’t. You can’t.

That was so good. You did it.

“H-How’s your arm?” Mando asks, visor staring through your very being.

You nod your head affirmatively, unable to produce any words right now, staring down at his vacant visor without a thought in your mind except that you did it. You both did it.

Mando’s hand comes up to your face, holding your cheek and the back of your neck gently and it surprises you.

“Come on, words pretty girl. Need to know you’re okay.”

“I’m good, I’m good- promise.” You smile shakily, still reeling with adrenaline, your limbs still shaking.

You’re shocked at his insistence on calling you that. You don’t want to admit it but... you like it. Sort of.

You think Mando chuckles underneath his helmet, the vocoder distorts it but you hear the exhale of breath he lets out, the way his shoulders bounce lightly. He lets his hand trail down to your knee - subtle.

You feel giddy. We did it, you giggle to yourself, unable to contain the burst of energy pulsing through your body.

“You did it.” Mando adds and fuck -  did you say that out loud?

“I- no. I mean, you were there, you helped-”

He stops you mid-sentence, voice low, hushed and squeezing your knee tight. “Don’t be so fucking modest.”

You feel hot suddenly. Not just your face, you feel hot all over, your whole body coursing with it - indignation.

Whatever, you scoff, rolling your eyes and shoving at his shoulders. “Shut up, Mando.”

He moves both of his hands, letting them come to grip both of your thighs now and you hate the way it makes your eyelids grow heavy, threatening to roll back into your head if he adds just a bit more pressure.

“You’re difficult, you know that?” He grits even though you know it's not frustration or annoyance coursing through his blood.

You try to move your legs, push him away from you but he’s got you in this vice grip, pawing at you through your clothes.

“Only when I want to be.” Mando chuckles again, he’s amused.

Fuck do his hands feel good, it’s been so long.

“I don’t believe that.” He purrs, voice low and bassey and it goes straight to your cunt, which he’s growing increasingly closer to.

“Y-You don’t know me.”

His hands trail up your thighs, feeling the warmth seep through your pants and through the worn leather of his gloves as he nears the zipper. The helmet tips upwards to meet your completely dazed stare.

Gone is your fierce and biting tongue. You’ve gone quiet, all because of him - this stranger, this Mandalorian, a bounty hunter who has your fucking fob.

“You’re right, I don’t. But I know you’re good.” Mando tells you, fingers dancing up to the seam of your pants. You just stare at him, eyes wide and shining bright with hyperspace in their reflection. Beautiful. “How are you so fucking good?”

You know he’s not really asking, you know it’s a rhetorical question but -

“I’m not good, M-Mando.” You quiver as he rips the zipper down. 

You’ve stopped trying to push him away but you’re not encouraging him either, completely frozen in place by the intimidating black visor of his helmet, like some dark angel tempting you with death.

Rushed and hurried, Mando’s shucking down your pants and chucking them somewhere onto the floor of the cockpit. He bites the tips of his gloves, pulling them off and throwing them away just as carelessly.

Mando growls something fierce and terrifying, taking both of your knees in each hand and pulling you down the chair till your ass nearly hangs off the edge, spreading you so wide its fucking embarrasing.

“But you are.” He presses, so certain of this ‘fact’.

Then he’s spreading you again and it’s so lewd and wet. You can feel yourself dripping, making a mess all over yourself and you go hot, embarrassed as you try and look away from the black of his visor that’s intently trained on you and your soaked panties.

“Don’t you wanna prove to me how good you are?”

You can’t help the pathetic whimper that’s released from your throat as you nod your head too eagerly and without thought. He’s got you right in his line of fire, right where he wants you. It’s been too long since you’ve had someone take care of you.

You can’t bear to look at him as he hooks his fingers into the crotch of your panties, pulling them to the side to reveal your glossy cunt to him.

Mando can’t remember the last time he fingered someone’s cunt open to get them ready for him, all of him. He feels dizzy, sees literal star whizzing past him as he parts your lips, watches how your dark hole flutters and seeps for him, all dark and flushed and swollen for him, for his touch. You’re perfect.

Maker, does he want to taste you, to feel you cum on his tongue, on his face, feel how fucking hot you are on his lips but he can’t, he knows he can’t. So he’ll do what he can with his fingers, for now.

Slowly, he takes his index and sinks it into, your walls fluttering to let him in, suffocating the single digit already. Mando curses underneath his breath - you’re so fucking tightt, he can hardly believe it.

You cry out at the sensation, having had nothing but your own fingers for the past few months, one of his felt so much better, thicker and rougher. Tears are already welling in your eyes from the sweet relief.

Mando adds a second, not wanting to waste anymore time and starts scissoring you open for him, curling his fingers against the ridged wall and beckoning you towards him. Your back curls against the copilot seat, your hands flying upwards to grab the headrest of the seat, pressing your tits up and outwards underneath your thin shirt.

Even through your thin bra, Mando can tell your nipples are hard. He thinks about twisting them, biting them, licking at them, at you. Fuck, you’re so sexy.

“Dangerous girl,” Mando praises, growling and unrelenting in his thrusts, “how many men do you think you took out back there? Ten?”

You whine, eyes still squeezed shut, unable to take in the fucking Mandalorian between your legs, fingering your weeping cunt open.

“C-counted fifteen actually.”

Mando chuckles darkly, “Of course you did, show off.”

You laugh too but it’s cut off by a whine as he curls his fingers again, digging them into you and you see stars everywhere.

“Don’t have to- to show off when you're good.” You smirk, trying to give him your best shit-eat grin, finally opening your eyes and looking down at him beneath you like this.

He glows with the light of hyperspace, all the beaming stars reflecting off of his helmet, it nearly takes your breath away. His fingers are shiny with your slick as he drags them in and out of you, you can hear the way you pussy squelches for him, begging for more while you wither wordlessly for him.

“Hmmmm that’s right you - you good fucking girl, you’re such a good girl.”

There’s nothing you could have possibly done to contain the absolute wanton moan that leaves your chest at his sickening praise.

You never did any of this for attention, for praise, to make you feel better about yourself. You just felt it was your duty, to fix inequalities where you see them like those stupid senators claim they do but don’t. You never did it to be congratulated, to be thanked.

But when Mando praises you like this, calls you a good girl - fuck does that feel good.

He picks up the pace, his fingers fucking you open and you could cum just like this if he doesn’t stop soon. He feels it, feels you squeezing his fingers tighter than anything he’s ever felt before and he momentarily worries that he won’t fit, that he won’t be able to ram his cock deep into you but he knows you can take it, knows you’ll suck him in all desperate and wet for it.

Mando wrenches his fingers from you and you nearly scream at him for the sudden emptiness, your body convulsing and panting against the chair. He hasn’t even fucked you yet and you’re already completely debauched. Eyes glassy and skin glistening, you’re beautiful.

He stands to his full height, towering over you and casting you in his shadow. You look up at him through your lashes, chest heaving and legs spread wide, your core wet, shiny and flushed dark with arousal. You’re eye level now with his more than prominent bulge, cock straining against his pants and your mouth drools for it.

“Up, turn around.” He orders deep and low through his vocoder and you can’t scramble fast enough. Mando would chuckle at your desperation, degrade you and slap you around if he wasn’t so fucking desperate for it himself.

You do as he says, facing the other way and clutching the headrest of the set again as you look over your shoulder at him, watching, drooling as he pulls his flushed and heavy cock from his pants. You nearly choke on your breath - he’s huge, red and angry and you’re worried it’ll shred you from the inside out, but you want it - you want it rough, mean, fucking primal and gross. You want him to ruin you a little bit.

You watch him as he knocks your knees further apart on the seat of the chair, opening you up for him. You stick your ass out, wiggling it at him in a desperate presentation and he grumbles something before he’s grabbing handfuls of your flesh into his hands, grabbing you hard and tight and it pinches - you wail something high pitched and pathetic, whining like a bitch for him.

Mando hooks your soaked underwear high on your hips, watching the fabric pull tight against your own skin. He plays with the band, making sure it’s still sufficiently pulled to the side, to let his cock just glide right into you.

Resting your chin on your shoulder, you look back at him from under your lashes as he lines himself up, notching the spongy head of his cock at your entrance and you could cry, you could actually fucking cry you want it so bad. But your tongue isn’t as easily tamed as your body.

“You ever- ever fuck a bounty before, Mando?”

He growls mean and gritty before he’s grabbing you by the hips and sheathing himself all the way to the hilt in your tight cunt, a moan is punched out of you from deep within. He reaches the end of you almost effortlessly - literally pushing the boundaries of your body. You feel him in your stomach, you feel him making room for himself.

“Maybe.” He grunts, blushing furiously underneath his helmet all the while thinking “no”. He’s never done this before. And it shows in how he nearly forgot that you were - still are - his bounty.

He forgets that he tracked you down, hunted you, dislocated your fucking shoulder while chasing you down on a gritty planet. Your pussy made him forget all of that and he’s embarrassed by it. Maker, you could kill him right now if you wanted to and there’s nothing he could do to stop it. He thinks he’d let you.

So he fucks you harder for it, pulls back out until just the tip of him is at your entrance before he’s spearing you in half, breaking you open on his thick cock and fucking you mean, like he’s angry with you.

You try and scoff at his feigned smugness but it comes out as a broken moan, your knuckles going white from how hard you're gripping the headrest trying to gain some stability from his punishing thrusts, the way he pulls you back onto his cock over and over again. “D-Doubt it.”

Mando’s vocoder distorts his voice, or maybe it really has dropped that low but he’s grumbling something animalistic and fucking feral, wrapping his forearm around your shoulders and hauling you back into him - until your back is flush with his rough and cold breastplate.

He holds you tight against him, hips snapping against your ass as you bounce in his hold, the velocity of his thrusts sending you reeling. You feel lost, thrown out into space without a lifeline - all you can do is hold onto his forearm for some semblance of stability as Mando fucks you into oblivion.

The cool metal of his helmet kisses your cheek and you hiss but let him press it against you anyways. You can feel his eyes on you from behind the visor, you know he’s watching every expression, hearing every pathetic little noise he’s pulling from you - a front row seat to your destruction.

“Why are you so- worried about it? Hmm?” He coddles, as if he were talking to a child. It’s condescending and you’re so fucked out of your mind already that you can’t even respond, can’t even bite back at him.

You’ve never been fucked like this before, never had someone reach so deep, spread you so wide, fuck you hard and open like a decimated fruit. It’s perfect - fuck, it’s so good.

“Am I not - shit - am I not fucking you hard enough, pretty girl?”

Mando’s hips grind up into you, shredding your insides and you cry; you feel legitimate tears spring from your eyes as you bend to his will, bend as he molds you to his cock. You let him.

Mando scoffs, or chuckles - you can’t tell. He leans in even closer, you swear you could feel his breath against your face if it weren’t for his stupid helmet digging into the side of your face.

“I know you like it when I call you that, g-get so fucking tight.”

You nod your head fervently, unable to produce any words as your pussy and stomach clench around him, that familiar fire burning so rampantly you feel like you could cum with one more word out of his mouth.

“Tell me.”

“I- I like it.” You barely manage to get out, voice gone and the wind fucked out of you. You have no energy or willpower to be able to speak properly - you’re on the edge of a mind-shattering orgasm.

Mando’s forearm flexes against where he holds your shoulders against his chest, his tanned hand moving to come and wrap around your throat, squeezing tight and angling your back like you would a bow. He fucks you deeper and harder and ruthless at this new angle, like a dagger to your insides - a warning.

“I-I like it when you - fuck! - when you call me p-pretty girl.” You wail, pussy squelching around his length embarrassingly loud as proof of your words, of his power against you. He hums, satisfied.

“Yeah? Yeah, you want it h-harder, pretty girl?” He asks and it's mean. It’s evil this time when he asks you, like he’s making fun of you as you tremble at the end of his cock, tired and wet and fucked out of your mind.

You nod your head pathetically, not caring anymore how desperate you are to cum, you just need him. You need Mando to keep fucking you.

“Yes! Yes, please just- just keep fucking me. D-Do whatever you want.”

Mando’s heart and cock flare at your words, igniting something deep inside him and he’s hauling you around, pulling his sopping cock from your cunt with a disgusting wet pop, your juices leaking all over him, the chair, the durasteel floor.

If he were being any meaner, if you were anyone else, he would have you lick it up, lick yoursef off the fucking floor but - Maker, he can’t think like that right now, he’ll get too light headed and pass out before he’s had a chance to cum.

He picks you up and lifts you onto the ground, laying you on your back less than gracefully before he’s shucking your top off of you along with your bra, leaving you in nothing but your soaked and drenched panties which still sit pulled to the side of your abused pussy.

Fucking look at you, eyes bleary and wet, fucked out of your mind like the rest of you. All shiny and wet with him, and your tits. You’re so pretty, naked on the floor of his ship like this.

Mando takes your nipples into both his hands and twists, pulling and groping at you like a brute and all you can do is arch your back, pressing yourself further into his touch like a mindless whore.

He lines himself up again, leveraging himself on your breasts and splitting you open again with too much ease this time, you’re so wet and dark and flushed like a pulverized fruit.

“P-Perfect pussy, you’re so fucking good.” He moans, sounding delirious.

His body is hard against your fleshy one, he revels in the way his armour makes you bounce and jiggle, how you take him so fucking well on the fucking floor. Shit, he won’t last long like this - you’re too good, you’re too good for him.

Mando paws at your tits, pulls at the flesh and gets lost in how soft and squishy they are as he pummels your poor pussy, squelching and spilling all over the both of you.

He swears he can smell you, even from underneath the helmet he swears he gets a whiff of your cunt, of your sweat, your skin. He wants to taste you so bad, lick every inch of you until there’s nothing left. Mando wants to devour you, he wants to keep you here, just for him to use like this. You’re too good, you’re too good at taking him, he can hardly believe it.

“Need you to cum.��

You nod your head, tears spilling into your hairline and Mando leans over you, gripping both your hands into his and holding them above your head, your legs wrapping high up around his waist.

Looking down, you watch him spear you over and over again without relent. Your world spins, it's thrown off kilter by the strength of his cock and you marvel at yourself for taking something that big inside of you. Mando’s thrusts are strong, deep and punishing, they’re fucking aggressive and you feel yourself tightening up at the mere sight of him - he’s huge, in every sense of the word.

It’s too much, he’s so much and your senses light up like a control board with nothing but him - nothing but Mando and before you know you’re crying out his name into the dead silence of hyperspace.

You pulse around him, suffocating his cock tighter than he thought possible and Mando’s head pounds in his helmet. He watches as you wither underneath him, fucking yourself on his cock as you work through your orgasm, moaning his name like it’ll bring you salvation - Mando, Mando, Mando, Mando.

For a split second he finds himself wishing it was his name, his real name that you were moaning, crying out like you’re wounded and you need him.

He imagines the way it would tumble off your lips, curl around your tongue and how it would taste to drink it from your mouth - Din, Din, Din.

Fuck - he’s cumming.

Mando doesn’t know why that did it for him, but he’s cumming. Feels his balls pull up tight and his cock twitches and pulses painfully hard and he’s drawing out of you and painting your tummy white with his seed.

You gasp when you feel his hot spend land on your heated skin, your eyes fly open and you lift your head to watch him jerk himself onto you.

He looks like a vision, a fucking pillar of silver, a monolith, towering over you. Except you’ve brought him to his knees, this fierce warrior, trembling as he finishes himself off, emptying himself onto your flesh instead of deep inside you. You can’t help but smile at him, drunk off of his cock as you watch him cum all over you.

“I have the implant.” You smirk, sitting up on your elbows now to admire his work.

“H-Huh?” He pants, chest heaving and cock still twitching. Fuck, he’s gorgeous.

“Could’ve cum inside me, Mando.” You tell him like you’re disappointed. You are.

Mando growls, lunging for you and groping your belly, smearing his seed into your flesh, painting you where he missed - your chest, breasts, collarbones, he rubs it as far as it’ll go.

He’ll offer you a shower once you’re both up, he tries not to think about what it would’ve felt like to cum deep inside your tight little pussy, how it would have seeped out around him, spilling out the sides and onto the floor along with the rest of your mess.

He would’ve fucked it deep, deep inside of you and watch you take it like the good girl you are.

Next time, he thinks. 

“Shut up.” He tells you.

//

Mando didn’t land in Nevarro like you thought he would.

Instead, you’re on another isolated, a far off one like you usually stick to - Kal’Shebbol.

You’re both quiet as you exit the Razor Crest, letting the noise of the planet fill in through your ears and Mando’s helmet as you walk towards the city.

The planet is nice enough, nicer than you’re used to actually. Tall and far off rolling hills and mountains which surround a modest city. It seems pretty modern from what you can tell as you approach it. Shining lights, even in the daytime, neon signs and loud bustle.

There’s crime here, you can tell, you can practically fucking smell it, you’ve become so familiar with its tang - you’ll do good here, that is… depending on what Mando’s got planned for you.

He doesn’t have you in cuffs, he’s not escorting you, you’re just simply… walking next to him and it’s confusing. You take a side glance at him and he just walks forward with a too-confident stride, seemingly not even worried about you.

So you let him walk with you, closer and closer to the border of the city before he slows down, ultimately coming to a halt. You keep walking however, testing him, wondering who will make the first move.

You make it about ten feet from him before he’s calling after you, your name never sounding so sweet. Stupid, you sound like a lovesick little girl. But you can’t help but smirk as you turn around to face him.

“I have to bring you in.” He calls out, yet there's no malice in his voice, no threat.

You smile at him, it feels genuine, you fucking devil. “Not if you can’t find me.”

Mando approaches you again with that saunter of his, like a true bounty hunter, a true threat. Fuck, why did he have to be so sexy?

Only you know that you had brought this Mandalorian down to his knees. You try to block the image of him on top of you, fucking you out of your mind only hours ago, making you cum harder than you ever had, painting you in his own spend.

Your soaked underwear sits wet and cold against your aching pussy, a painful and uncomfortable reminder of the mess you both made of each other.

When he’s gotten close enough to you, Mando tilts his helmet teasingly.

“You can’t outrun me, remember?” You know he’s smiling all smug underneath that helmet, you can hear it in his voice. It’s chilling and you shiver at the edge, the deep grit of his voice while your shoulder throbs at the memory.

“Well then I better get a head start.” You smile back, feeling hot underneath his gaze.

Grabbing his gloved hand into yours, you squeeze it tight, unable to say goodbye to him for some weird reason. You really don’t know him at all, you’ve only been with him for a day but you think you’ll miss his stoic quietness. Either way, you feel like this doesn’t merit a goodbye - he still has your puck.  

Mando stares in disbelief at your gesture, burning hotter and more embarrassed than ever, even though he was buried deep in your cunt only hours ago. He looks at your hand, engulfed in his and Maker, he doesn’t want to let go.

But he watches you drop his hand and walk away from him, lost to the crowd within seconds.

When he’s sure he can’t see you anymore, only then does Mando turn on his heel, heading back to his ship and back to Nevarro.

He tells Karga he had no luck finding you and manages to get another puck from him without much hassle. The new tracking fob takes him all the way out to Maldo Kreis to find some blue guy - as far away from you as possible.

Mando will take the long way getting back to you, hoping you stay out of trouble: from the Imps and the bounty hunters like him.

Your puck burns hot in his holster. It’s where he keeps you close, always on him until he tracks you down and finds you again.

[cheegu3]

~ Yandere Hyunjin - X31 [CULT SPECIAL 2/2 PTS]

tw / trigger warning: yandere themes, cult themes (brainwashing etc), violence, blood/gore, murder, disturbing themes, swearing

wc: 3k

a/n: so I’m a bit tipsy and wrote this just like really quickly idek what’s going on or if this is shit lmao sorry, I will proofread this tomorrow mwah love u

summary: the gang from your hometown that you knew as criminals had now kidnapped you and as they take you to their destination you soon find out they’re actually a cult, will you be able to escape or will you become their pet forever?

‘‘ You’re..them ‘‘ you muttered at last somehow sounding disbelieved.

‘‘ You must’ve known right? At least a part of you knew all along ‘‘ he answered with a smirk.

‘‘ You must’ve known right? At least a part of you knew all along ‘‘ he answered with a smirk.

You huffed.

‘‘ If I knew, don’t you think I would’ve fought back harder than I did? ‘‘ you looked at him coldly.

‘‘ Well actually- ‘‘ he leaned in closer to you, so close that you could see your own reflection in his crazy, empty brown eyes.

‘‘ I think you wanted this ‘‘ he adds.

‘‘ W-what are you fucking crazy? ‘‘ you exclaimed hysterically, the panic was overtaking your body every second that passed.

He nodded and the smirk was back again as if he enjoyed seeing you like this. You bet he had seen way worse captures of his, who suffered a lot more.

‘‘ You want to know why? ‘‘ he asked tauntingly.

He didn’t even give you a chance to answer before he went on.

‘‘ You’re a lonely pathetic woman in her 20s. You have no job, no money, no boyfriend or husband and no family ‘‘ he said this in such a mocking manner that it took you aback. You felt like your whole body went cold, like you were an insect under his magnifying glass and after he had inspected you he crushed you.

This was all too much for you. You tried the best that you could to turn away from him, sort of looking out the window - only, all the windows were covered up and you assumed it was to make you feel disoriented and not see where you were. It was smart, you’d admit that. On top of that the leader had kept you occupied so you didn’t even get the chance to feel what ways the car was turning to somehow name your location.

He didn’t say anything more for the rest of the ride except for a low,

‘‘ I’m Hyunjin. The leader ‘‘

Then he left you alone, you weren’t sure if he was watching you but it sure felt like his eyes never left you, even when you were turned so that you couldn’t see him in the corner of your eye, the feeling of his gaze lingered.

Not long after, the van came to an abrupt stop throwing you forwards slightly. The doors were slid open revealing the familiar guys from before. Only three of them were in the doorway now though, one shorter one with freckles, the other shorter one with a mean and stern looking face and one that looked like a golden retriever. As you looked at them you wondered how they had ended up here in this gang. They were once normal people just like yourself, what happened to them? Perhaps...they were kidnapped like yourself and they would try to make you one of them?

‘‘ Get out ‘‘ the mean looking one barked at you and then said to Hyunjin ‘‘ We’re here master. Everything is ready ‘‘

The leader reached over again to unbuckle your seatbelt but he wasn’t really looking at you this time, he seemed to be in a hurry. In fact he seemed to be so stressed when you had stepped out that he swept you off your feet. You yelped in surprise but he wasted no time, walking straight away towards the buildings doors. 

It looked like it was some kind of abandoned church. It was worn down and dark, covered in graffiti and had several white sheets covering up the window. You shivered at the creepy vibe it gave off, it looked like the perfect place for a gang.

As your group approached the entry doors, two of the guys from before hurried up in front to hold the doors open for Hyunjin and you. You felt him walk again and you tried to turn from your place in his arms to look around. You gasped.

People in masks and dark cloaks stood in a circle around some kind of table. The walls were dirty and worn out just like the outside and the familiar church seats didn’t look very familiar anymore, they were filled with clutter like books and candles. More candles decorated the walls and it had weird drawn symbols in white and red, which looked too much like blood.

You desperately tried to crawl out but his arms clinging onto you only got harder, tightening the grip. You were coming closer and closer to the group who had now turned when they noticed your presence. The group split in the middle, making way for you to pass through. You heart dropped when you had passed by the people.

Right there was an altar. It had old dry blood ingrained in it all over. By how the dried blood looked like it had run down the sides, you thought about how much blood there had to have been there, they probably killed someone and the thought of it makes you sick.

He sat you down unexpectedly gentle and stepped back slightly while looking at you. You felt like there wasn’t a chance in hell to escape with the mob getting ever so closer as the seconds passed, soon they’d be suffocating you although it felt like their mere presence was already doing that.

��‘ W-what, where am I...Hyunjin ‘‘ you said his name slowly as if trying it out.

His expressions didn’t change, he looked cold like he had done that same night you met him.

‘‘ Y/n, I’ve had my eyes on you for a long time. Planning, waiting for the perfect moment to take you away ‘‘ he explained calmly. 

You didn’t say anything but when he said he’d been watching you for a long time you felt chills down your spine again. You didn’t feel safe here and you didn’t know what they wanted.

‘‘ Master decided to save you ‘‘ one of the mob whispered in an almost hysteric voice. 

They looked really riled up or quite frankly, crazy - from the way they got closer and closer and how they looked at their leader with so much admiration, like he was some sort of God.

‘‘ Save me? ‘‘ you asked looking straight at Hyunjin to try to read his face.

You thought that maybe they were just joking but he still didn’t move a muscle. He took a deep breath before speaking again.

‘‘ You see, all the people out there they’re really bad people. They have turned to the false God and I’m the only one who can save you ‘‘ he answered fairly casually studying your face and reaction to what he had said.

‘‘ Uh, false God? ‘‘

‘‘ Jesus and his father ‘‘

You huffed. It still felt like a joke but the people surrounding you made you doubt it. Either they were really good actors or this crazy man had taken advantage of vulnerable people and brainwashed them into worshipping him.

‘‘ He’s evil and tries to mask his evil words with acts of ‘‘ kindness ‘‘ ‘’ he air-quoted the word kindness and looked truly annoyed as he explained this to you.

You weren’t really sure how to respond.

‘‘ I...Appreciate that and what you do but I would like to go home now, is that okay? ‘‘ you tried.

‘‘ No ‘‘

Silence followed. You felt like the mob were silently judging you and maybe even hated you because you got all this attention from their precious leader.

‘‘ U-um well I do have to go, I’m not interested sorry ‘‘ you swung your legs over the stone seat and put your feet on the ground below.

He didn’t move from his spot which made you hopeful, but then when you approached the mob expecting them to step aside for you to pass - they didn’t. They stood just as still, just like him. You saw him turn to you and then felt a hard grip around your forearm.

He was angry but you also saw some hint of disgust in his eyes.

‘‘ See everyone how grateful you are that I saved you, see what could’ve become of you. We’ve got a lot of work to do with this one ‘‘ he said to the mob while staring into your eyes. He smirked for a moment and that’s when you realised, this was a cult.

He was fully aware of the truth vs made up things and how he affected all these people but you supposed he liked the power. It made you sick yet again to think about how many lives he had ruined by spewing such nonsense.

His loyal followers all shouted in union,

‘‘ Yes master! ‘‘ 

Before Hyunjin started to drag you to a doorway at the opposite side of the room. It felt like his grip was getting tighter and tighter and you groaned quietly at the pain, it was sure to leave bruises but you knew he didn’t care - he had probably left a fair amount of bruises on his followers before. 

He took you through the doorway and turned to the right. You reached a long stone corridor that felt very creepy. He kept dragging you until he had gotten to the room at the end of the corridor. There, he still kept his iron grip on you while fumbling in his pockets to take out a silver key.

‘‘ This is where you will be staying ‘‘

Anger bubbled up inside you. Who is he to decide that he was gonna ‘’ save you ‘’ to kidnap you and to order you around without you having a choice? It made you feel so belittled, and because of it you hated him already and what made it worse is the fact that you were pretty sure he enjoyed it.

He shoved you in and closed the door behind him swiftly without turning his back to you, smart, he didn’t even give you one opportunity to escape him.

‘‘ Tomorrow will be your first ritual, you should be excited ‘‘ he gave you a small smile. 

You wanted to punch him so bad, to kick and scream and to run for your life. The room he had pushed you into was as cold-stoned as the corridor had been, literally. It looked like an old-school prison cell in those castles with stone floor, walls and ceiling. The windows were barred shut and was way too high up for you to reach anyway. 

The only thing that made it look anything other than a prison cell was the double bed in the middle of the furthest wall. It had scarlet velvet looking covers and looked quite comfortable. In that moment you wanted nothing more than for him to leave so you could let your growing exhaustion take over you and figure out a plan to escape later after resting.

And so he actually did - to your surprise. You suppose it was because of the look of burning hate you had given him this whole time or that you had refused to answer him but whatever the reason, you felt relieved.

He sighed and left, closing the door rather harshly after him but you didn’t even look at him, he didn’t deserve that.

Your head found the pillow automatically and you let your body relax, falling asleep not that long after.

-

‘‘ Hello? Y/n get the fuck up ‘‘ the distant voice who had been mumbling, or least that’s what it sounded like to you - suddenly started to get louder and clearer.

You body jerked awake when you realised it wasn’t a dream and the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes was those brown eyes of the leader himself. He looked annoyed, like you were just a burden to him and the fact that you’d woken up so late was just another inconvenience.

He rolled his eyes.

‘‘ Finally. We haven’t got all day Ms princess ‘‘ 

You yawned at looked at him still half-asleep. You got up without protesting though because you didn’t want to anger him any more. 

You wasted no time and even got dressed in front of him, ignoring his presence while continuing to be in a dazed and tired state. 

He seemed to wait as patiently as he could but that didn’t stop him from sending you glares every now and then. 

At last you were ready, dressed in a white plain summery dress that had been put out for you to wear. You noticed while walking up to him that he was now wearing very light coloured clothes as well - a strong contrast to the day before. He didn’t have his piercings on, his tattoos were covered and he wore long white linen clothes. You gagged at the thought of him picking out clothes just so you would match.

‘‘ Come on ‘‘ he mumbled. His patience seemed to be running out.

He opened the door and basically pushed you out in front of him, then he closed the door once again and followed quickly. It felt like he was breathing down your neck, not giving you any space to - you assumed - not make you get away. You ignored him being that close and focused on his directions instead. He told you to go back the same way you had come from and out of the church, into a garden where the ‘’ ceremony ‘’ as he called it would happen.

You stayed silent and walked to where he wanted you to. The church was empty, which was a bit odd but you kept going until you laid your hands on the  big doors again and pushed it open.

You recognised the place you had been at yesterday, even the car was still there. But you couldn’t do anything, not even get close to the car before Hyunjin barked his orders,

‘‘ Right. Then walk straight to the garden. No stopping ‘‘ and you reacted like a robot, casting one last sorrowful look at a possible escape route. 

You followed his directions and walked into a clearing in the forest the church had been hiding behind itself. The mob was there again.

Of course

You thought yourself and couldn’t stop your hand from forming a fist. More people, less chance of escaping. But where else would they be if not by the side of their precious leader?

They gave you very genuinely happy smiles which freaked you out and you smiled back awkwardly to not feel like you were being rude. As you approached the group Hyunjin put his fingertips to your upper back guiding you forwards, or rather to the middle of the circle again who parted once you got close, allowing you to pass through.

Then you spotted it, another altar. 

But this time you weren’t really scared, until Hyunjin told you lay down on it and his words from before rang in your head over and over again,

‘‘ Tomorrow will be your first ritual, you should be excited ‘‘

Fuck

What was going to happen to you now?

‘‘ Welcome everyone ‘’ he started off his speech, turning to the gathered crowd.

‘’ We’ve gathered here today to make a union, to forever bond the master, the greatest, to y/n, the princess ‘‘

Your head was spinning. It felt like the coldness of the stone you were laying on had transferred to your blood, making it ice cold. You weren’t even sure if you were alive anymore or if this was possibly just a dream.

‘‘ Y/n? ‘‘ he suddenly called out which caught your attention.

You turned your head to him, tears threatening to fall any second now.

‘‘ I have to do this, for us to be together forever ‘‘ he said this in an almost pitiful way and your gut knew what was coming but you didn’t want to believe it.

You were going to fight and be optimistic until the last second.

‘‘ You first, then me okay? If you keep still this will be quicker ‘‘ the fact that he looked truly sorry made you forget for a moment what kind of person he was.

He walked up to you and you got so enhanced in his eyes, it was easy to see how all the other people had believed his lies. You were even ready to accept your faith, and so you did the only thing you could - you closed your eyes and waited.

You weren’t sure but you think you heard him say ‘’ good girl ‘’ under his breath. You also heard some distant hushed talking and some items being scraped together but you held you breath and kept your eyes closed, it was for the best.

No closed eyes or deep breaths could’ve prepared you for what came next though,

the pain was unbearable. A cold metal that was sharp penetrated your chest causing you to scream out.

‘‘ Stop! Stop! Stop! ‘‘

Hyunjin hushed you comfortingly and stroke your hair slowly, placing small kisses to your forehead but you barely felt them - the pain was so overpowering it felt like it was the only thing you felt.

Eventually when your breaths started becoming more heavy and your vision started to get blurrier, you opened your eyes one last time. You saw the man you had started to hate in such a short time, now...he was your killer. 

Then you closed your eyes again and waited and waited while it felt like the liquid had decorated your entire body, hell maybe even the whole forest. 

At last, after much suffering

the world did become black and you were finally at peace.