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toy-powerhouse · 3 days ago

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Yōkai in Name Only: Uninspired World Building and the Lack of Actual Yōkai in Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

Japanese mythology and folklore are overflowing with very captivating supernatural creatures and phenomenon that are often collectively dubbed yōkai. From the classic and terrifying oni to the rather comical cryptid tsuchinoko, there’s a plethora of strange yet recognizable yōkai that have been conceived by the people of Japan over the centuries. So, as someone who has a deep appreciation for all things yōkai, I was ecstatic when I learned that Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles had introduced yōkai to the lore of the series. But unfortunately, as I continued to watch, I came to realize that RotTMNT has virtually no yōkai in it despite Yōkai being the namesake of the species of supernatural creatures that inhabit the Hidden City that lie underneath New York City.

Aside from Big Mama being a jorōgumo (a spider with the supernatural power to shapeshift into a beautiful woman), no other Yōkai in the series can without a doubt be identified as honest-to-goodness yōkai. There are effectively no explicit references to yōkai and their lore; practically zero designs that borrow directly from depictions of yōkai and basically nothing based on the wealth of legends that involve yōkai. Although, these “Yōkai” are technically just a species derived from once ordinary Earth creatures that were mutated by alien waste and then became “the basis of myths and legends throughout the ages” (according to a showrunner on Twitter), they still carry the moniker of “yōkai,” which is loaded with significance. Significance that could have added layers of depth that the universe of RotTMNT was sorely in need of.

As is, the “Yōkai” of Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles are just an assortment of anthropomorphic animals, generic monsters (trolls, slime people, skeletons, gargoyles, etc.), and some composite monsters that are bereft of any connection to anything remotely inspired by Japanese myth and folklore. I say this because, well, where are the kappa, tengu, kitsune, and other iconic yōkai? Where are all these very visually distinct and unique yōkai? And, even if they are there, which it’s doubtful that they are, why would they be hidden in the background or in a blink-and-you-miss-it scene and why are they not being utilized as an active part of plotlines?

RotTMNT "Yōkai" Versus Actual Yōkai

Left: Fox Yōkai from Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Right: Kitsune from Hotel Transylvania 3 (2018). Is the Fox Yōkai really a kitsune or just a generic furry? Who knows for sure. A simple visual element that would easily settle this question would be the presence of multiple tails as according to myth kitsune gain extra tails as they age and gain supernatural power. Hotel Transylvania 3 gets this right with its background character who’s clearly a kitsune with her multiple tails.

Left: Sunita is just a generic slime monster. Right: Huginn and Muginn are just gargoyles, monsters of European origin.

Left: Kraken Tom. Right: The Minotaur. Again, both Krakens and Minotaurs are creatures from European legends.

Above: The Hirsuté Resort & Spa guards from the season 2 episode “Bad Hair Day” just appear to be a composited monster. I guess whoever designed them was being very “creative,” but there are all sorts of hairy yōkai that could have been used instead as they would have been more thematically appropriate then… Whatever these things are supposed to be. The design of these monster guys could, possibly be based on Japanese myth (¯_(ツ)_/¯), but for reasons I’ll go into later, it’s unlikely.

In the past, when I had tried to give the series and its showrunners the benefit of the doubt, I had speculated about the representation of actual yōkai in RotTMNT. While there weren’t many that could be positively identified, I still thought that there could be a chance that they were yōkai or at least based on them. I mean, maybe Mayhem is a komainu, Tummytello is an oseichu, Boss Bruce is some sort of Japanese dragon… And that’s when I realized that this game of “Guess the Yōkai” was a fruitless endeavor that illustrates just how little effort, and forethought went into creating and developing RotTMNT’s Yōkai and their world. These representations of Japanese supernatural creatures and phenomenon should have been overt in the series and not something that audience members have to theorize and speculate about.

It wouldn’t surprise me if the crew behind the series had simply slapped the moniker of “yōkai” onto their otherwise unremarkable monsters in their lackluster city to make it a bit spicier than your usual fare—a bit more “exotic,” if you will. They are yōkai in name only, which is a shame, given that if these creatures were actually included in the series, RotTMNT could have had a far more compelling, immersive, and cohesive setting with a ton of story potential. Instead, what we got in the world of RotTMNT’s Yōkai™®© is random nonsense like:

A reference to the 1974 film Zardoz in the form of the Council of Heads, the rulers of the Hidden City

Tiny, sparkling, pink, living unicorns that are used as currency by the denizens of the Hidden City

The crew behind Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles could have been inspired by a treasure trove of age-old Japanese tales, but instead chose to fill it with useless, nonsensical garbage that makes the world feel disjointed and lacking in any creativity that would develop the plot or characters.

That’s bad enough, however, a special mention needs to be made specifically on the lack of kappa representation. As mischievous water imps that bare a strong resemblance to turtles and are one of the most iconic yōkai, it’d be an absolute no-brainer to have kappa feature in the series. Yet in all the showrunners’ infinite wisdom, they don’t.

The fact that this scene from season 2, episode 12A, “E-Turtle Sunshine of the Spotless Mind,” includes probably the only representation of a kappa in the entire series is a travesty in and of itself. And, to add insult to injury, it’s just an inanimate, ordinary toy, so it’s not even a tsukumogami! As a kappa enthusiast, I scoured the series for any glimpses of kappa, and they just don’t appear to even be background characters. To not feature kappa in a TMNT iteration that supposedly has yōkai in it must be the biggest misfire I’ve ever seen in a work of fiction. Thank kami that there are fans out there who create fan work that right this wrong, but the fact that the series itself neglects even any mention of them is, to put it bluntly, fucking stupid and ass backwards.

Aside from RotTMNT being especially goofy for being a No-Kappa Zone, there is one thing that the series oddly seems to take cues from and it’s not Japanese folklore: it’s Undertale.

A race of monsters that consists of a hodgepodge of creatures are forced deep under the earth by humans. Among them, there is a sheep-like/goat-like monster authority figure who guarded the other monsters and who then sacrifices innocents in a cruel bid to gain the power needed to propel monsters out of exile and revolt against humans. This character is then later redeemed after being convinced that humans aren’t all that bad.

Which fictional species, setting, and character does this description apply to?

A. Monsters, The Underground, and Asgore Dreemurr

B. Yōkai, The Hidden City, and Baron Draxum

C. All of the above

I won’t accuse the folks behind Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, namely the showrunners, of being plagiarists or of ripping off Undertale and its creator. These similarities may very well just be a coincidence, and besides, I’m not very familiar with Undertale. I do find it interesting that there is quite a bit of crossover fan work from fans of both RotTMNT and Undertale, as if those fans are picking up on the similarities between the two works. For reference, Undertale was released in 2015 and RotTMNT was released a few years later in 2018. All I’ll say is “that’s weird, that’s suspicious” and leave that debate to people who’re familiar with both RotTMNT and Undertale.

After reviewing interviews with the showrunners, Ant Ward and Andy Suriano, it became clear that world building, even for the Yōkai and their Hidden City, wasn't a priority for them and that drawing from Japanese culture and history weren’t in their roster of influences on the series. They talk about being influenced by things like Franco-Belgian comics from the 1960s and 1970s, science fiction illustrations from the 1970s, the 1960s Batman television series, and, specifically in the case of the Hidden City, the 1986 film Big Trouble in Little China. The closest the pair come to even mentioning anything having to do with Japanese anything is the following in a 2018 interview with Screen Rant, where Suriano says: “And we obviously pulled a lot of anime reference, you’ll see a lot of that, especially in our action sequences.”

In none of the interviews I saw did they mention being influenced by Japanese culture besides that aforementioned quote. I’m fairly convinced that neither of them did any substantial research into yōkai and their lack of commitment and interest in the subject definitely shows. Even in the slew of Twitter threads, there’s not much indication that the staff writers were that familiar with yōkai lore either. Overall, information on RotTMNT’s diet brand of yōkai is scant, not well documented, and, with the way Twitter is, in danger of being deleted or not visible to the public (as an aside, the creators and writers could have created a few reddit AMAs to answer questions that could then be much better archived; Twitter/X is an awful way to respond to fan questions, especially important world building-related questions).

Anyway, since the crew behind Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles put little to no thought into their portrayal of yōkai and monsters in general, I have some recommendations for anyone with even a passing interest in those topics:

Artists

Toriyama Sekien: Prolific 18th century artist and scholar whose work depicting yōkai has greatly influenced popular, contemporary portrayals of the supernatural in Japan.

Shigeru Mizuki (RIP): Renowned manga artist whose work has further popularized yōkai. GeGeGe no Kitarō being his best-known work (Editor’s Note: Medama-oyaji, “Eyeball Father,” is a way better father than RotTMNT Splinter).

Rumiko Takahashi: Famous manga artist whose work often dabbles in yōkai-related lore, best seen in works like Urusei Yatsura and Inuyasha. In Urusei Yatsura, yōkai are aliens and the lead character, Lum, is a cute girl version of an oni.

Individual works

Yokai Monsters (1960s): Film trilogy produced by Daiei Film. Famed film director Takashi Miike loosely adapted the second film as The Great Yokai War (2005).

Summer Days with Coo (2007): A young kappa (Coo) unexpectedly meets a human boy, and they spend a bittersweet summer together. Directed and written by Keiichi Hara and based on books by Masao Kogure. (Editor’s Note: as a fan of kappa, I adore this movie. It’s so sweet, sad, and Coo is the cutest little thing ever, 100/10).

Cryptozoo (2021): In a world where all mythical and folkloric beings and creatures exist and are known as cryptids, a woman makes it her mission to provide a safe haven for them in the form of a zoo. Chaos ensues. Directed and written by Dash Shaw. (Editor’s Note: the art and animation are beautiful, the soundtrack is amazing, and Shaw shows a real appreciation for the supernatural beings and creatures represented in the film, also two yōkai, a baku and tengu, are featured in the film).

Having looked through all the Twitter threads, the interviews, and whatever else from the crew of Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, I’m left feeling that when it came to developing the setting and monsters of their world, there was a real, tangible lack of passion for it all. That lack of true drive and curiosity to learn about yōkai as well as the culture and history that surrounds them is so palatable. It’s that lack of fervent commitment to storytelling that played a role in the adaptation flopping and flopping hard, because most people, even children, could tell that there was very little care taken in developing a well-thought-out setting. It’s all just bad storytelling. Plain and simple.

#teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #rottmnt #yokai #monsters

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cerealforkart · 1 year ago

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I started replaying my favourite fire emblems the other day! Local queer boy gets tangled in one war after another that he has no real place in just trying to make one right decision at a time

#fire emblem #path of radiance #fe ike #doodly #I love these games so much #they have everything #heavily queer coded protagonist #I read Ike as gay but I also see the aro reading #a really distinct and well realized world #some banger lines #interconnected cast #base conversations holy shit I love base conversations #furries #old man catboy yaoi #I could go on about these games forever

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ot3 · 2 months ago

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top 10 pokemon that are girls

'gender'.... much like 'animals' this is a concept from our world that has made itself present in the pokemon franchise. all pokemon began having genders (except for the ones that don't) in the second generation of games, in order to facilitate the pokemon breeding mechanic which has become a staple of the main series

you may think this means the issue of which pokemon are girls and which ones aren't is already settled. but do we really trust game freak to be the deciding voices on this one? i certainly don't. so here's a nonexhaustive look at some pokemon that are doing their best to be role models for young women everywhere who have been picking up and enjoying these games for decades.

#10 - NIDORAN♀

Not only is Nidoran♀ canonically a girl, she is the first pokemon to be canonically a girl as the gender distinction between Nidoran types predates the introduction of gen 2's breeding system that gendered all pokemon. she broke the glass ceiling, and for this we salute her.

#9 - KANGASKHAN

Both culturally and in media single mothers are subject to a lot of scrutiny and scorn, but kangaskhan breaks the mold. powerful, responsible, yet loving and joy-filled. the look on her baby's face tells us all we need to know; she holds on tight to the pouch, clinging to the safety she knows her mother can give her, but gazes awestruck and wide-eyed at the world around her, knowing its wonders will be there waiting for her as soon as she feels ready for it.

#8 - CELESTEELA

Technically, celesteela's gender is 'unknown', but it's obvious that celesteela represents what life can look like for a woman who truly has it all. As one of the largest and heaviest pokemon ever discovered, she's not afraid to take up space. she doesn't feel the need to soften herself to be more accepted by the world around her, but she's also comfortable enough with her feminine side to let it shine through where and when she wants. nobody tells her how to live her life but her and also she has big lazers

#7 - MISMAGIUS

Well she's not called MISTER magius now, is she?

#6 - LYCANROC

Perfect embodiment of the wolfgirl you knew (or, perhaps were?) in middleschool. There are many doglike/canine pokemon in the dex, but something about lycanroc's exaggerated unkempt mane and lanky, awkward posture evokes the physicality of a teenager who exists as a beast beyond the boundaries of her own body.

#5 - CHIKORITA

This saultry little binch...

#4 - RAYQUAZA

It's an uncomfortable truth in life that many women find themselves in the position of needing to play the mediator in order to stop the people around them from acting in destructive or harmful ways. But just because mediating conflict can be a difficult and unfair position to be put into, that doesn't mean it's a bad thing. Rayquaza just goes to show us all everywhere how a real woman can still thrive under these circumstances, doing her best to build a more peaceful world while not letting that push her into the shadows or make her take a back seat in her own life. she is a community leader and an innovator.

#3 - SALAZZLE

She's the archetypal femme fatale. A dominatrix. A baddie. Does she make me uncomfortable? Yes, absolutely. But I'm not a furry so I'm not really the target audience of what's happening here.

#2 - SLAKING

I know so many butches who look exactly like her. you love to see it.

#1 - MEWTWO

as one feminist philosopher has said: "I see now that the circumstances of one's birth is irrelevant, it is what you do with the gift of life that determines who you are."

I think any woman living in a patriarchal society can sympathize with mewtwo's story. enraged at being treated like the property of the people who created her rather than her own fully realized person, she goes on a rampage where it quickly becomes obvious that she is even more powerful than that what she was originally created in the image of. Although this takes her down a dark path, she eventually learns to self-actualize by working on herself rather than pointlessly lashing out at people who had nothing to do with hurting her. it's empowering stuff. doubly empowering because she killed all those clowns who DID hurt her

now, of course, there are plenty more pokemon that are girls than just what i've listed here today. but i hope youve learned a little something from this.

#pokemon

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bramblepatch · 5 months ago

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The thing about Omelas is, you know, they really want you to think there's only one kid in a hole.

That's how it's always phrased. The Kid in the Omelas Hole. The forsaken child, if you're feeling fancy. Sometimes if they're feeling really dogmatic, they almost seem to want to tell you there's only ever been one kid, even though that's completely stupid if you think about it. Kids grow up in Omelas. Most of them grow up perfectly happy and healthy, at least until they're old enough to be told about the kid in the hole and then they grow up mostly happy and healthy with a distinct strain of repression. Thinking logically, the kid in the hole must also grow up, or perhaps they don't, but they don't in the way that so many kids in other parts of the world fail to grow up.

And once you've worked that out, once you've realized that every so often they have to find another kid and put them in the hole, well, it's easy to stop there. To feel jaded and sad and maybe angry enough to walk away.

The walking away is important, for several reasons but also this one: walking away means you don't hang around Omelas and compare notes.

Because Omelas can live with there being One Child in One Hole that suffers so that everyone else can prosper. It's a shared shame that you're not supposed to talk about. If you can't live with it, you're suppose to leave. You're not supposed to go to your friends and say, look, I went back to the warehouse in the dock district and saw the kid in the hole again and I'm really struggling with it, because then your friends might look at you like you grew a second head and say, what warehouse.

And then you might learn that they have always known that the happiness and prosperity of Omelas depends on a kid locked away under a law firm uptown. And maybe you ask a few more people and some of them know about the same kids as the ones you and your friend were confronted with, but some of them might know about other kids entirely. And then, perhaps, it starts to become clear that Omelas is built entirely on holes occupied by children and if that's the case, walking away hardly seems like proportional reaction, does it?

If there are many kids in many holes maybe the question of how a kid in a hole is supposed to ensure the prosperity of the city bears some examining. Maybe you start to wonder why you've never seen a kid who isn't prospering except for in a hole. Maybe you wonder if there's other holes and maybe you remember that other places that aren't Omelas have things like attempted prison reform and social services and other such things that you've always been told Omelas doesn't need.

Or maybe you and your friends know about the same kid in the same hole. Maybe there's only one kid in one hole, after all. Maybe it's just not something that's pleasant to talk about, so no one ever does, and there's nothing more suspicious going on than a city where people don't know how to talk about hard subjects.

But you know, maybe. It's weird that they don't want you to talk about it, is all I'm saying. It's weird.

#those who walk away from omelas

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mariasont · 7 months ago

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hi 🫶🏻 i was thinking maybe you could write spencer x reader inspired by taylor's I look in people's windows? for the plot it could be something like they were really close friends and reader was obviously in love with him but then he met meave and distanced himself from her, or maybe that he blames the reader for meave's death and is avoiding her, idk, whichever you prefer!!

i love your works, you're so good at writing!!

When the Swallows Come Again - S.R

a/n: hi my lovely you just know me tooooooo well. a swiftie plot line you ask? i am at your service

no but fr thank u so so sooo much for requesting i love YOU! 🫶🏼

masterlist

pairings: spencer reid x gn!reader (im pretty sure pls correct me if i added any use of pronouns)

summary: spencer blames you for maeves death…or so you thought

warnings: angst! (happy endings, yes ik im feeling gracious), talk of death, blood, guns, usual criminal minds stuff

wc: 2.5k

The asphalt beneath your boots felt gritty, the sound muffled by the thick blanket of snow. With one hand, you tried to guard your face from the snowflakes that seemed determined to kiss your skin. They might seem pretty from inside, but out here, they were just another reminder of your inadequate clothing against the biting cold.

The first rays of the sun began to stretch across the concrete, painting long shadows in its wake. Although you could have found your way in the pitch black if needed. Most places were still closed, but you knew that a coffee shop you used to love would be open. It wasn't your top choice, mainly because of the fact that you might bump into--

Him.

You knew it was him before you even saw his face, the hairs on your arm standing at attention as you stopped dead in front of the window.

It was Spencer, unmistakable even from a distance, his distinctive curls made into a celestial crown by the cafe's soft light. Your heart stumbled, plummeting down to your shoelaces. A thousand emotions crashed around you, a vortex happening to quick to untangle. These were feeling you had buried down, far deeper than six feet, hoping they'd never resurface. But that, you realized, was just wishful thinking.

You watched from behind the glass, feeling like a stranger to the world that Spencer now inhabited--a world where you once had a seat at his table. Now, you were the outsider, the unwanted observer. The sound of his laughter, which once was a comforting sound, now seeped through the door's crack, a mocking reminder of a severed tie. Your friendship was one that had bloomed like the first flowers of spring.

But flowers wither, and seasons change.

With Spencer out of your life, a subtle death crept over you, eroding you piece by piece. It was a death characterized by the loud allegations, the quiet of words left unsaid, and a friendship that had crumbled because he blamed you for Maeve's death.

Not just blamed, he hated you.

He hated you because you had tried to save Maeve, but you just weren't quick enough, because you couldn't beat the onset of gunfire, because you went in instead of him. You knew the cost: if he went in, he wouldn't have come back out. You didn't regret that choice. He's alive and breathing, and that's worth any cost--even if it means he never spoke to you again.

But there he stood, living and breathing--just as you intended, and suddenly your body seemed to malfunction. Your feet might as well have been part of the pavement, the snowflakes assaulting your face just as Maeve's blood did that day. Your heart threatened to burst, racing with a ferocity that set your veins on fire. You were scorching alive, and it was 17 degrees.

In the aftermath, Spencer had taken himself off the grid, locked himself in his apartment, and you didn't take it to heart because his withdrawal was all- encompassing. He was avoiding everyone. But then he came back, and it was as if you alone were invisible to him. You tried, with every fiber of your being, to bridge to gap, for him to let you be his best friend again, but your attempts were met with biting remarks and thinly veiled jabs.

It was exhausting. But he was grieving so you felt like he deserved a pass. He had been through so much, more than anyone on the team. Surely, if anyone deserved a pass, it was him. However, even the most generous pass has an expiration date, and six months of disregard made it challenging to keep validating the same worn-out ticket.

So, you submitted your transfer papers to the narcotics unit. You wanted to say a proper goodbye, but you weren't sure he'd care. So, you didn't. You waited until the office was empty, then disappeared without a trace.

But it didn't hardly matter that you weren't physically around him because you found yourself searching for signs of him in everything you did.

When you pulled on your socks, memories of his mismatching habit surfaced, and the way he'd cheekily taunt you for your staunch preference for matching white ones. When you went to the grocery store, you'd unintentionally wander to the aisle with the dark chocolate almonds, his favorite.

Every time a swallow flitted across your path, you were reminded of him. "Swallows return to the same place every year, but not the same partner," he had once explained.

The thought always stuck to you, like gum on the sole of your shoe, because now it was a poignant parallel to your own stupid, fractured bond. Connections were never meant to endure. You knew that now.

It was too late to reverse course when he spun around, catching you red-handed. Your mouth flapped open, a fish out of water, as you willed your feet to moved forward. The need for coffee paled in the comparison to the need to leave. But his reflexes outmatched yours, and the door swung open before you could make an escape.

He said nothing, just stared, and you came to a near-instant stop, narrowly avoiding a collision. The frosty air of your breath fogged the space between you, briefly distorting your view of him, softening his edges into the Spencer you once knew.

Now that he was within arm's reach, you could discern the finer aspects of his face. He looked good, tired, but good. He always looked good, but time had sculpted his features into something more profound. His hair had grown out, curling at the ends, and a stubble now sketched the contours of his face.

"Hey."

Had you not been so captivated by the shape of his mouth, the faint sound would have been swallowed by the buzzing in your ears.

"Hey," you whispered, but even that was too much for your shaky voice, breaking mid-greeting and leaving you exposed before him. "I'm sorry, I had no idea you'd be here. Um, I should probably just--"

You maneuvered around him, pushing down the vomit of words rising in your throat, consciously fighting the impulse to catalog every line of his face, cognizant of the fact that it might just be the last time you'd see him.

His hand clasped your wrist, and you were suddenly you were the newest member of the BAU again, rubbing elbows with the boy genius, telling him all your secrets with the exception of one. How madly in love you were with him. Were? Are? Past tense? Present tense? You tried not to think about it.

You were frozen in time—not solely from the physical restraint but from the searing sensation of his touch, a feeling you hadn't known in ages, as if igniting your skin through your sleeve.

"Wait, please," he pleaded, the desperation is his voice anchoring you to the spot. You turned back to face him, finding your faces nearly touching. You shifted, intending to create space, but his grip on your arm didn't drop, so you didn't move. "How have you been?"

The question threw you off guard, and it filled your stomach with an irrepressible swarm of butterflies, a feeling so alive against the biting cold that stung at your nose.

Your fingertips were going numb.

"I'm okay, you?" A complete lie.

You racked your brain for the last time you felt okay. Perhaps it was before Spencer had started talking with Maeve. You didn't even know about it at first, that might have been the worst part. He was your best friend, and he had omitted such a significant detail of his life from you.

He just started to distance himself, forging a gap between the two of you that seemed to rival the expanse of the Grand Canyon. Perhaps it was an overstatement, but as the events unfolded, the comparison felt justified.

The change began imperceptibly, almost cruelly gradual. You would have preferred a quick yank of the Band-Aid, but it was a prolonged, painful peeling. The first sign was him not jumping at the chance to be partnered on cases like he usually did. Then, it progressed to him choosing seats away from you on the jet, and finally, it escalated to him leaving the room all together when you were in it.

It was an achy feeling, an all-consuming soreness that infiltrated every inch of your being. You didn't understand, didn't know what you did wrong. It wasn't long after this you found out about Maeve.

And then, as if fate had dealt its cruelest hand, she died, and suddenly it was your fault. You became the villain in his eyes, condemned for your hesitance, and because you refused to let him die. Maybe it could be seen as selfish, but without him, you would be nothing.

Yet here you were living without him all the same.

His inspection was more thorough than you were ready for. It stirred an urge within you to shrink away, to sprint into the anonymity of the dark streets, but your feet remained rooted to the spot.

"I've been better," he admitted, eyes shining with something you couldn't quite place.

"Oh," you begam, the syllable suspended in the frigid air, but before your thoughts could coalesce into words, Spencer cut through the silence.

"Why did you leave?"

Your brows pinched together, your mouth agape as a singular heartbeat was lost--and then several more. "You can't be serious."

He looked confused. "What? No, Hotch never really told us your reasoning."

The taste of a bitter laugh lingered at the edge of your lips. "Spencer, we don't need to do this whole act, okay? We don't have to pretend that I left for any reason other than you."

"Because of me?" His hands glided upward, pausing on your shoulder, and you loathed the part of you that wanted to lean into him. "What are you talking about?"

"Are you kidding?" The words tumbled out, blinking away the tears of frustration that threatened to spill. "Spencer, I'm not stupid. I know you hate me. I know you blame me for what happened with Maeve. And I get it, you were grieving, and you had every right to be mad, and I just couldn't work there anymore."

"That's the most absurd thing I've ever heard," he cut in, his tone was sharp, yet somehow not unkind. "God, I don't hate you. I could never hate you."

"How can you stand there and say that?" you countered, your voice hurt and incredulous as you took a step away, the cold seeping into your bones and setting your teeth on edge. "You treated me like I was nothing, Spencer."

"Here," Spencer said, handing you his jacket. "You should know, prolonged exposure to cold weather can actually weaken your immune system."

"Oh," you said, slightly startled, feeling the warmth take hold in your cheeks. You rubbed your nose before pulling the jacket over your shoulders. It smelled just like him.

"I don't hate you, you know that, right?" Spencer's voice was soft, like he was whispering even though you were the only two on the street. "I'm sorry if I made you feel insignificant. You're far from it. You could never be nothing. But I was mad, and I let that get the better of me."

"But I tried, Spencer," you choked out, voice wavering, emotion thick in your throat. "I tried to save her. Maybe if I had more training, more experience... I know you wish I had let you be there instead, but I couldn't risk it, not with what I knew. And now our friendship is ruined and I--,"

"Hey, whoa, slow down," Spencer interjected, cupping your cheeks, thumbs brushing away tears you hadn't even noticed. "You think I blame you? Oh, my god, no, sweetheart. I was angry, yes, but it was because you were willing to step in front of a gun."

"You don't blame me?"

"Of course I don't," he breathed out as if he couldn't believe this is what you thought. "I'm so sorry for giving you that impression. It was never my intention."

Your emotions bubbled over into a sound that was half-laugh, half-sob. "I really missed you."

Spencer's heart seemed to shatter than mend in an instant as he drew you against him. "Can I kiss you?"

Giggles spilled out through chattering teeth, punctuating the air as a wide smile graced your lips. "You want to kiss me?"

"I want to kiss you."

The idea almost seemed to sweet to be true.

"Okay."

He kissed you, and with each snowflake that settled into your hair, Spencer drew you in closer. In a way that you had only dreamed of. The biting cold was there, but it paled in comparison to the blaze that was now ignited through your body.

It was perfect, everything you had imagined and more--real, warm, and grounding.

He pulled away slowly, blinking the same speed, snowflakes dusting his lashes like delicate frost.

“I know I’ve been… difficult,” he said, his voice rough, his breath wanting your frozen cheek at the same time.

You pressed a hand to his chest. “Spencer, you don’t have to explain.”

A moment passed, as if he were thinking about your offer, then his gaze found yours, piercing and profound, as if the solid ground you stood on was suddenly fragile.

“But I need to,” he said, the raw need in his voice pulling your straight back into the orbit of his words. “I was angry, yes, you almost got yourself killed. But I pushed you away because it was far easier than facing the fear that I might lose you too.”

The beats of your heart echoed loudly—thump, thump—in its bony cage as your fingers curled tightly into his shirt.

“Every time I looked at you, I saw what I could have lost, and that fucking terrified me.”

Spencer cussed, this wasn’t unusual, but the intensity behind it made you frown. His words, so honest, seemed pull you in, invading his personal space in an effort to get rid of yours.

“You’re not going to lose me.”

The sun was shining now, casting golden rays over the snow and Spencer’s face, framing him just as he was in your mind.

“Then let’s not waste anymore time.”

You love him. Present.

For a second you thought Spencer might be wrong because maybe, just maybe, swallows could return to the same place, and the same partner after all.

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna @readergf

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid hurt/comfort #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x gn reader #spencer reid #criminal minds

685 notes · View notes

gpcwsl · 10 days ago

Text

Warnings: kissing, fake dating, very long.)

Katie McCabe x Reader:

Title: New Flame

- It’s a gray Thursday afternoon, and the café is unusually quiet. Your favorite table by the window is free, so you settle in, grateful for the peaceful atmosphere. A steaming cup of tea sits beside your open notebook as you jot down thoughts about the book you’re reading, the bustle of the world outside fading into the background.

You’ve always loved this place—the way the soft hum of conversation blends with the hiss of the espresso machine, the faint scent of cinnamon that lingers in the air. It’s your sanctuary, the one place where you can exist undisturbed.

That’s why you barely glance up when the door swings open, and a sharp gust of wind accompanies a new customer inside. But then you hear her.

“Christ, it’s freezing out there. Do you not believe in heating, or what?”

The voice is loud, distinct, and unmistakably Irish. You glance up, and your heart stutters for a beat.

Katie McCabe.

Even if you weren’t a football fan—and you’re not, really—you’d recognize her anywhere. Her image is everywhere: Arsenal star, Ireland’s national treasure, and a lightning rod for attention both on and off the pitch. With her dark hair pulled into a loose ponytail and her piercing green eyes scanning the room, she commands attention effortlessly.

You quickly look back down at your notebook, praying she won’t notice you.

Fate, of course, has other plans.

“Hey, you.”

The words are casual but direct, cutting through the quiet hum of the café. You don’t realize she’s speaking to you until her shadow falls over your table.

You glance up, bewildered. “Me?”

“Yeah, you.” Katie grins, and it’s the kind of grin that suggests she’s up to something. “Mind if I sit?”

Without waiting for an answer, she pulls out the chair across from you and drops into it, looking entirely at ease.

You blink at her, thoroughly confused. “Um… can I help you?”

“Actually, yeah.” She leans forward, propping her elbows on the table. “I’ve got a bit of a situation, and I think you might be able to help me out.”

You stare at her, still trying to process the fact that Katie McCabe, of all people, is sitting at your table, acting like you’re old friends. “I think you’ve got the wrong person.”

She tilts her head, studying you with an intensity that makes you squirm. “Nah, I don’t think so. You’re perfect.”

“For what?”

Katie sits back, crossing her arms and smirking like she’s about to deliver the punchline of a joke. “To be my girlfriend.”

- For a long moment, all you can do is stare at her. “I’m sorry… what?”

“My girlfriend,” she repeats, as if this is the most logical thing in the world. “Well, fake girlfriend. Just for a bit.”

You laugh, certain you’ve misheard her. “Okay, seriously—what is this about? Did someone put you up to this?”

Katie sighs, running a hand through her hair. “Look, I know it sounds mad, but hear me out. There’s this charity gala next weekend, and my ex is going to be there. With her new girlfriend. Who just so happens to play for Chelsea.”

“And…?” you prompt, still thoroughly confused.

“And I can’t show up alone,” Katie says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Do you have any idea how smug they’ll be? No way I’m letting them get one over on me.”

You shake your head, still struggling to wrap your mind around what’s happening. “So your solution is to drag a random stranger into this?”

“Not random,” Katie says, her grin returning. “I’ve seen you in here before. You seem… normal. Quiet. Not the type to run to the tabloids.”

“That’s your criteria? Normal and quiet?”

She shrugs. “Also, you’re cute. That helps.”

Your face heats at the casual compliment, but you refuse to let her distract you. “Katie, I don’t even know you.”

“And I don’t know you,” she counters. “That’s the beauty of it. No one will suspect a thing.”

You stare at her, incredulous. “This is insane.”

“Probably,” she admits. “But I’m desperate. Come on, it’s just one night. I’ll pay you if you want. Whatever it takes.”

Her green eyes are locked on yours, and for a moment, you see a flicker of vulnerability beneath her confident exterior. She really does seem desperate.

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “This is ridiculous. Why me?”

“Because I’m out of options,” Katie says simply. “And you… you seem like someone I can trust.”

The weight of her words surprises you. Against your better judgment, you find yourself considering her proposal.

“One night?” you ask cautiously.

Katie nods. “One night. That’s it. And I promise, I’ll make it worth your while.”

You hesitate, every instinct telling you to say no. But there’s something about the way she’s looking at you—something earnest and almost endearing—that makes you pause.

“Fine,” you say finally. “But we need rules.”

Katie grins, leaning back in her chair with a satisfied expression. “Rules. Got it. Lay ’em on me.”

Katie’s grin widens as if she’s just scored the winning goal in a cup final. You, on the other hand, feel the weight of your decision settle in—a strange mix of regret and curiosity.

You take a steadying breath and look her in the eye. “First of all, this isn’t a free-for-all. There have to be rules.”

“Fair enough,” Katie says, leaning forward, her chin resting on her hand. “Go on, then. What are the rules?”

You tap your pen against your notebook, thinking. “Rule one: no surprises. If we’re going to do this, I need to know everything beforehand—where we’re going, who’ll be there, what we’re supposed to do. No springing things on me last minute.”

Katie raises an eyebrow but nods. “Fine. No surprises. What else?”

“Rule two: no physical affection unless absolutely necessary.”

Her grin turns mischievous. “Define ‘necessary.’”

You glare at her. “You know what I mean. No kissing, no hand-holding, nothing unless it’s to keep up the act.”

Katie laughs, clearly amused by your flustered tone. “Alright, alright. No unnecessary touching. Got it. Anything else?”

“Rule three…” You pause, unsure how to phrase it. “We keep it professional. No personal stuff. This is a one-time thing, and I don’t want it complicating my life.”

For a moment, Katie’s expression softens. She studies you with a curious tilt of her head, as though trying to figure out what kind of person would say yes to this ridiculous plan. Then she nods.

“Deal,” she says. “Three rules. No surprises, no touching, no personal stuff. Easy.”

You fold your arms. “Good. Now it’s your turn to tell me why this is so important. I need to know what I’m walking into.”

Katie sighs, running a hand through her hair. “Alright, here’s the short version. The gala is a big deal in the football world—sponsors, press, all that. My ex, Ruesha, will be there with her new girlfriend, Louise. Louise and I… let’s just say we don’t get along.”

Your eyebrows lift. “So this is about showing up your ex and her new partner?”

“Not exactly,” Katie says, shifting in her seat. “It’s about showing that I’m fine. That I’ve moved on. That I’m not the same hotheaded, impulsive idiot Charlotte broke up with.”

There’s something raw in her voice, a vulnerability she tries to mask with her usual bravado. It’s the first time you’ve seen a crack in her confident façade.

“Alright,” you say softly. “I get it. But if I’m doing this, you need to promise me something.”

“What’s that?”

“No games. No trying to use me to make anyone jealous or prove a point. If we’re doing this, it’s strictly for appearances.”

Katie meets your gaze, and for a moment, the playful spark in her eyes fades. She nods, her tone serious. “I promise.”

You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “Okay. So… what happens now?”

Katie’s grin returns, this time with a hint of relief. “Now? We prep. I’ll text you the details, and we’ll work out a plan. Don’t worry—I’ll make this as painless as possible.”

“Somehow, I doubt that,” you mutter.

Katie laughs as she stands, tossing a few bills onto the table. “Thanks for this. You’re saving my ass, you know.”

Before you can respond, she’s out the door, leaving you with a sinking feeling that your quiet life is about to get a lot more complicated.

- Over the next few days, Katie is true to her word-mostly. She texts you the details of the gala: date, time, dress code, and a brief rundown of the attendees. What she doesn’t do, however, is give you much space to breathe.

Her texts are relentless, filled with questions about your life (“What do you do for fun? Need to make our story believable”), comments on your style (“Do you even own anything fancy?”), and more than a few unsolicited jokes.

Katie: Are you sure you’re not a Chelsea fan in disguise?

You: I don’t even watch football.

Katie: Good. Can’t trust a Chelsea fan.

By the time the day of the gala arrives, you’ve exchanged so many messages with her that you feel like you know her—or at least the larger-than-life version she projects.

That’s how you find yourself standing outside the boutique Katie insisted on meeting you at, clutching your coat and wondering how on earth you got here.

The door swings open, and Katie steps out, her sharp features lighting up when she spots you.

“There you are,” she says, striding toward you. “Come on, we’ve got work to do.”

“Work?” you echo, following her inside.

She smirks. “You didn’t think I’d let you show up in jeans and a hoodie, did you?”

Inside, the boutique is all sleek lines and shimmering fabrics, a world away from your usual haunts. Katie gestures to a rack of gowns with a dramatic flourish.

“Pick something,” she says. “And don’t worry—I’m paying.”

You hesitate, glancing at the price tags. “Katie, this is too much—”

“Trust me, it’s not,” she interrupts. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it right.”

Her confidence is infectious, and despite your protests, you let her help you choose an outfit. It’s strange, seeing this side of her—playful, encouraging, almost charming.

By the time you’re dressed and ready, you catch Katie staring at you in the mirror.

“What?” you ask, self-conscious.

She grins, her voice softer than usual. “You look perfect.”

- The car ride to the gala is quieter than you expected. Katie sits beside you, fidgeting with the cuffs of her tailored suit, her usual bravado noticeably muted. You glance at her, trying to decide if this is the same Katie McCabe who confidently strolled into your life days ago and turned it upside down.

“You alright?” you ask, breaking the silence.

She looks at you, startled, before forcing a smirk. “Me? Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re fidgeting,” you point out.

Katie immediately stills, shoving her hands into her lap. “I’m not fidgeting. Just… warming up, you know? Big game mentality.”

You snort. “This isn’t a game.”

“Isn’t it, though?” she says, her grin returning. “It’s all about strategy. Confidence. Timing. Same rules apply.”

You shake your head, but her words stick with you. As the car pulls up to the venue—a sprawling estate lit up like something out of a fairy tale—you suddenly feel the weight of what you’ve agreed to.

The driver opens the door, and Katie steps out first, extending a hand to you. For a moment, you hesitate. Then you take it, her grip steadying you as you step onto the red carpet.

“Ready?” she murmurs, her voice low enough that only you can hear.

“No,” you admit, your heart racing as cameras flash in the distance.

Katie squeezes your hand, her smirk softening into something more reassuring. “Don’t worry. Just stick with me.”

The ballroom is even more intimidating than the exterior. Chandeliers cast a warm, golden glow over a sea of impeccably dressed guests, their laughter and conversation blending into a hum of sophistication. Katie leads you through the crowd with the ease of someone who belongs, her hand resting lightly on the small of your back.

You catch a few people staring—some curious, others outright surprised. It doesn’t take long for someone to approach.

“Katie!”

A tall woman in a sleek black dress strides over, her smile polished and sharp. You don’t need to be told who she is; the tension in Katie’s shoulders gives it away.

“Ruesha,” Katie says, her tone neutral but her smile strained.

The woman’s gaze flicks to you, her eyebrows lifting in surprise. “And who’s this?”

Before you can respond, Katie slips an arm around your waist, pulling you closer. “This is my girlfriend,” she says smoothly. “We’ve been seeing each other for a while now. Isn’t that right, love?”

The word catches you off guard, but you recover quickly, nodding. “That’s right.”

Ruesha’s smile doesn’t falter, but there’s a flicker of something—annoyance, maybe?—in her eyes. “How… lovely. I didn’t realize you were seeing someone.”

Katie shrugs, her expression deceptively casual. “I like to keep my private life private these days.”

Before Rushea can respond, another voice cuts in.

“Ruesha aren’t you going to introduce us?”

You turn to see a strikingly beautiful woman join the group. She’s tall and athletic, her confident demeanor radiating the same energy as Katie’s—but colder, more calculating. Louise, you realize.

“Louise, this is Katie and…” Ruesha hesitates, clearly having forgotten your name.

“Y/N,” Katie supplies smoothly, her arm tightening around you.

“Y/N,” Ruesha repeats, her tone almost apologetic. “This is Louise.”

Louise extends a hand, her smile as sharp as the rest of her. “Pleasure to meet you.”

You shake her hand, acutely aware of the tension crackling between her and Katie. “Likewise.”

“So,” Louise says, turning to Katie. “Didn’t think I’d see you here. You always hated these events.”

Katie’s smile doesn’t waver. “Things change.”

The conversation feels like a battlefield, every word carefully chosen and loaded with subtext. You do your best to play along, nodding and smiling in the right places, but it’s clear that Katie is the one holding the line.

Finally, Ruesha and Louise excuse themselves, leaving you and Katie alone again.

“Well,” you say, exhaling a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. “That was… intense.”

Katie laughs, but it’s more bitter than amused. “Welcome to my world.”

- The rest of the evening passes in a blur of introductions and polite conversation. Katie is charming and confident, slipping effortlessly into her role as the doting girlfriend. You find yourself admiring how natural she makes it seem—like this really is her world, and you’re just lucky to be part of it.

But as the night wears on, you notice the cracks. The way her smile falters when she thinks no one is looking. The way her hand grips her glass a little too tightly whenever Charlotte or Louise is nearby.

It’s not until much later, when the crowd begins to thin and the band starts playing slower songs, that Katie finally lets her guard down.

“Come on,” she says, tugging you toward the dance floor.

You hesitate. “Katie, I don’t dance—”

“Neither do I,” she says, cutting you off. “But we’ve got appearances to keep up, remember?”

Before you can argue, she pulls you into her arms, her hands settling lightly on your waist. You place your hands on her shoulders, trying to ignore the way your heart skips a beat as she pulls you closer.

The music is soft and slow, the kind of song that leaves no room for distance. You glance up at her, surprised to find her looking back at you with an expression you can’t quite read.

“You’re good at this,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

Katie chuckles, but there’s no humor in it. “Fake it till you make it, right?”

You tilt your head, studying her. “Is that what you’re doing? Faking it?”

For a moment, she doesn’t answer. Then she looks away, her jaw tightening. “What else is there?”

Her words catch you off guard, the vulnerability in them cutting through the practiced confidence she wears like armor. Before you can respond, she shakes her head and forces a smile.

“Forget it,” she says. “Let’s just get through tonight.”

But as the song ends and the crowd applauds, you can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to Katie McCabe than meets the eye—and that maybe, just maybe, this fake relationship isn’t as simple as you thought.

- The car ride back is a stark contrast to the ride there. Katie is quiet, staring out the window with her hands clasped in her lap. You sit beside her, the weight of the evening pressing down on you like a heavy coat.

It’s not until you’re halfway back to your apartment that she finally speaks.

“Thanks for tonight,” she says, her voice softer than you’ve ever heard it.

You glance at her, surprised. “You’re welcome.”

Katie doesn’t elaborate, and the silence stretches between you, filled with unspoken words and questions you’re too afraid to ask.

When the car pulls up to your building, she steps out first, holding the door for you. You hesitate on the sidewalk, unsure what to say.

“So… I guess that’s it?” you ask, your voice uncertain.

Katie looks at you, her expression unreadable. For a moment, you think she’s going to say something important. Then she flashes you one of her signature grins, the kind that doesn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Yeah. That’s it.”

You nod, feeling a strange pang of disappointment as you turn to go.

“Y/N.”

Her voice stops you in your tracks. You turn back to see her standing there, hands shoved into the pockets of her coat.

“If you ever need a favor… or just want to grab a coffee or something… you know where to find me.”

You blink at her, surprised. “Are you asking to be friends?”

Katie laughs, the sound lighter this time. “Maybe. Is that so bad?”

You smile despite yourself. “No, it’s not bad. I’ll think about it.”

She grins. “Fair enough. Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight, Katie.”

You don’t expect to hear from Katie again, but a few days later, your phone buzzes with a text.

Katie: How’s the quiet life? Miss me yet?

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling.

You: Hardly. I’m enjoying the peace, thanks.

Katie: Liar. Meet me at the café later. My treat.

Against your better judgment, you agree.

When you walk into the café, Katie is already there, leaning back in her chair with a cup of coffee in hand. She looks up when you approach, her grin widening.

“Hey, stranger.”

“Hey,” you say, sliding into the seat across from her. “What’s this about?”

She shrugs. “Just wanted to check in. Make sure you’re not scarred for life after the gala.”

You laugh, shaking your head. “I survived. Barely.”

Katie smirks. “You did great, by the way. Couldn’t have pulled it off without you.”

“Glad I could help,” you say, sipping your tea. “But seriously, why are you here? I thought this was a one-time thing.”

Katie hesitates, her grin faltering. “I don’t know. Guess I just… liked hanging out with you.”

Her admission catches you off guard, and for a moment, you don’t know how to respond.

“Well,” you say finally, “I liked hanging out with you too. Even if you did drag me into your ridiculous plan.”

Katie laughs, the sound warm and genuine. “Yeah, sorry about that. But admit it—it wasn’t all bad.”

You smile. “No, it wasn’t.”

For the next hour, the two of you talk like old friends, the conversation flowing easily despite your differences. You’re surprised by how comfortable you feel around her, how quickly the walls you’ve built start to crumble.

When you finally leave the café, you realize something strange: you’re actually looking forward to seeing her again.

- Over the next few weeks, your life begins to shift in ways you never expected. Katie texts you almost daily, her messages ranging from sarcastic quips to genuine questions about your day. She invites you to watch her matches, introduces you to her teammates, and even convinces you to kick a ball around with her at the park one evening.

At first, you tell yourself it’s just friendship. But as the days turn into weeks, you can’t ignore the growing tension between you—the way her smile lingers a little too long, the way your heart skips a beat whenever she leans in close.

You remind yourself of the rules you set, the lines you swore you wouldn’t cross. But Katie McCabe has a way of breaking down barriers, and no matter how hard you try to resist, you find yourself drawn to her.

One evening, after a particularly close Arsenal match, she shows up at your door, a six-pack of beer in hand.

“Thought you might want to celebrate,” she says, her grin mischievous.

“You won,” you point out, stepping aside to let her in.

“Exactly,” she says, plopping down on your couch like she’s been there a hundred times before.

As the night wears on, the conversation grows deeper, the playful banter giving way to something more serious.

“You’re different, you know,” Katie says suddenly, her gaze fixed on you.

You blink at her, surprised. “Different how?”

She shrugs, her expression uncharacteristically vulnerable. “Just… different. In a good way.”

Your heart skips a beat, and for a moment, you can’t find the words to respond.

“Katie…” you start, but she cuts you off, her grin returning.

“Don’t worry,” she says, raising her beer in a mock toast. “I’m not about to confess my undying love or anything. Just… wanted you to know.”

You laugh, but her words stick with you long after she leaves.

- It happens on a quiet night, one of those evenings where neither of you plans anything but somehow end up together anyway. Katie shows up unannounced—again—this time with a pizza and a bottle of wine.

“Figured you wouldn’t say no to free food,” she says with her trademark grin, already letting herself in.

You roll your eyes but don’t stop her. “Do you ever ask before barging into people’s lives?”

“Not when I know the answer’s yes,” she quips, plopping onto your couch and propping her feet up on the coffee table.

You sit beside her, the familiar routine settling in as you eat, drink, and talk. The conversation flows effortlessly, jumping from football to books to the absurdity of life.

Somewhere between the second slice of pizza and the third glass of wine, the mood shifts. The laughter fades into a comfortable silence, and you realize just how close you’re sitting—your legs brushing, your shoulders almost touching.

Katie turns to you, her expression softer than usual. “You know,” she says, her voice low, “this is nice.”

“What is?” you ask, your pulse quickening.

“This.” She gestures vaguely between the two of you. “Hanging out. Not pretending, not putting on a show. Just… being.”

You swallow hard, her words stirring something deep inside you. “Yeah,” you say quietly. “It is.”

For a moment, neither of you moves. The air feels charged, the space between you shrinking with every passing second. Then, without thinking, you speak.

“Katie, why did you really ask me to do this? The gala, the fake dating—why me?”

She hesitates, her eyes searching yours. “Because you’re different,” she says finally. “You’re honest. You don’t care about the football, or the fame, or any of the other crap people usually care about. You see me. Just me.”

Her words hit you like a punch to the gut, and before you can stop yourself, you’re leaning in.

So is she.

The kiss is soft at first, tentative, as though both of you are afraid to break the spell. Then Katie’s hand slides to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, and the world tilts on its axis.

When you finally pull away, you’re both breathing hard, her forehead resting against yours.

“Wow,” she murmurs, her lips quirking into a small, stunned smile.

“Yeah,” you whisper, your mind racing.

Katie pulls back slightly, her expression turning serious. “Are you okay?”

You nod, your fingers still clutching the front of her shirt. “I think so. Are you?”

She chuckles, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Better than okay.”

The warmth in her gaze sends your heart into overdrive, but reality crashes down a moment later.

“Katie,” you say hesitantly, “this wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Her smile falters, but she doesn’t let go. “I know. But…” She pauses, her voice dropping to a whisper. “What if it’s supposed to?”

- After that night, everything changes.

Katie doesn’t pull away. If anything, she becomes even more present in your life—texting you good morning, showing up at your place unannounced, dragging you out to watch sunsets or explore the city.

You try to resist, to remind yourself that this was never meant to be real. But the lines have blurred so completely that you don’t know where the act ends and the truth begins.

And the truth is, you’re falling for her.

It’s in the little things—how she remembers your favorite coffee order, how she always makes you laugh when you’re having a bad day, how she looks at you like you’re the only person in the room.

But it’s also in the bigger moments. Like the time she invites you to a team dinner and introduces you to her teammates as “my person.” Or the night she tells you about her childhood, her struggles, her fears—the parts of herself she keeps hidden from the world.

Every day, you fall a little harder. And every day, you wonder how long this can last before it all comes crashing down.

- It happens during another gala, this time for a charity event. Katie insists on bringing you again, despite your protests.

“You’re my lucky charm,” she says with a grin, her hand warm against yours.

The evening is perfect—until you see Charlotte and Louise across the room.

Katie stiffens beside you, her smile tightening. “Great,” she mutters. “Here we go again.”

You squeeze her hand. “Ignore them. You don’t need to prove anything to her—or anyone else.”

She looks at you, her eyes softening. “Thanks, love.”

The word sends a jolt through you, and you realize with startling clarity that you want her to mean it.

As the night goes on, you find yourself watching her, captivated by the way she moves through the crowd with effortless charm. You can’t help but wonder if she feels the same way—if this has become real for her too.

When the event ends and you’re back in the car, Katie turns to you, her expression uncharacteristically vulnerable.

“Y/N,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “I need to know… is this still just pretend for you?”

Your breath catches, her question hanging in the air like a challenge.

“No,” you admit, your voice trembling. “It hasn’t been for a while.”

Relief floods her features, and she reaches for your hand, her fingers threading through yours.

“Good,” she says softly. “Because it’s not pretend for me either.”

- The shift in your relationship is subtle at first, like the first hints of spring after a long winter. Katie still texts you incessantly, still shows up at your door unannounced, but now there’s a softness to her—a quiet vulnerability that wasn’t there before.

You’re hesitant to define what’s happening between you, afraid that putting a label on it will ruin the fragile thing you’ve built. But Katie seems unbothered by the ambiguity.

One evening, as you’re sprawled out on your couch, her head resting in your lap while some random movie plays in the background, she looks up at you and says, “You overthink too much, you know that?”

You pause mid-stroke, your fingers tangled in her hair. “I do not.”

Katie raises an eyebrow, her smirk playful. “You do. I can practically see the gears turning.”

You sigh, your hand dropping to your side. “Can you blame me? This… whatever this is—it’s complicated.”

Katie sits up, her expression serious now. “It doesn’t have to be.”

You stare at her, your heart pounding. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I like you, Y/N. More than like you. And I think you feel the same way. So why are we making it harder than it needs to be?”

Her words hit you like a freight train, the raw honesty in her gaze leaving you breathless.

“I…” You hesitate, the weight of your emotions threatening to crush you. “I do feel the same way. But what if this doesn’t work out? What if—”

Katie cuts you off with a kiss, her hands framing your face as she pulls you in. It’s not the first time you’ve kissed, but there’s something different about this one—something that feels permanent, like a promise.

When she pulls away, her forehead rests against yours, her breath warm against your skin. “Stop overthinking,” she murmurs. “Just be with me.”

And for the first time, you let yourself believe that it might be that simple.

- The next few weeks are a whirlwind. Katie is unapologetically affectionate, holding your hand in public, kissing your cheek when she thinks no one is looking, and calling you “love” in a way that makes your heart skip a beat every time.

Her teammates notice the change immediately.

“Well, look who’s gone soft,” one of them teases during a team dinner, nudging Katie with a grin.

Katie doesn’t even try to deny it. “What can I say? I’ve got good taste.”

You laugh, your cheeks burning as you try to wave off the attention. But secretly, you love it—the way she’s so unabashedly proud to be with you.

Of course, not everything is perfect. The press catches wind of your relationship, and suddenly, your private life is splashed across tabloids and gossip columns.

“Katie McCabe’s New Flame: Who Is She?”

You try not to let it get to you, but the constant scrutiny is overwhelming. Katie does her best to shield you from it, but even she can’t control the media.

One night, after yet another article speculating about your relationship, you finally snap.

“I didn’t sign up for this,” you say, pacing your living room while Katie watches from the couch. “I didn’t ask to have my life dissected by strangers.”

“I know,” Katie says quietly. “And I’m sorry. I wish I could make it go away.”

You stop, turning to face her. “Why does it matter so much to them? Why can’t we just be normal?”

Katie stands, crossing the room to take your hands in hers. “Because nothing about us is normal, Y/N. And that’s okay. I don’t care what they say or what they think. All I care about is you.”

Her words are a balm to your frayed nerves, and you let her pull you into a hug, her arms wrapping around you like a shield.

“I’m scared, Katie,” you admit, your voice muffled against her shoulder.

“I know,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to your hair. “But we’ll figure it out. Together.”

- The first real test of your relationship comes when Katie’s team suffers a devastating loss in a high-stakes match.

She shuts down completely, her usual confidence replaced by a storm of frustration and self-doubt. She doesn’t text, doesn’t call, and when you show up at her apartment unannounced, she barely even looks at you.

“Katie,” you say gently, sitting beside her on the couch. “Talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” she mutters, staring at the TV.

You reach for her hand, but she pulls away, her jaw tight. “I just need to be alone right now.”

The words sting, but you nod, standing to leave. “Okay. But I’m here when you’re ready.”

It’s two days before she finally calls.

“I’m sorry,” she says, her voice heavy with guilt. “I shouldn’t have pushed you away.”

“It’s okay,” you say, relief flooding through you. “But you don’t have to go through this alone, Katie. Let me be there for you.”

She’s quiet for a moment before she whispers, “I’m not used to letting people in.”

“I know,” you say softly. “But you let me in once. You can do it again.”

Her silence speaks volumes, and when she finally comes over that evening, she doesn’t say much. But she doesn’t need to. The way she holds you, the way she looks at you—it’s enough.

- The days after Katie’s apology are marked by a cautious rhythm. You both fall back into your routines, but there’s a new layer to your relationship—one that’s fragile and demands more care.

Katie starts opening up in small ways. She shares little details about her day, mentions how her coach has been riding the team harder since the loss, and admits how the pressure is starting to feel unbearable.

“I hate losing,” she confesses one night as you sit on the floor of your living room, sharing a bottle of wine. “But what I hate even more is letting people down.”

“You didn’t let anyone down,” you say firmly, reaching for her hand. “Football is a team sport. It’s not all on you.”

Katie looks at you, her eyes filled with something raw and unspoken. “It feels like it is sometimes.”

You squeeze her hand. “You’re not alone in this. You’ve got your team, your family… and you’ve got me.”

Her lips quirk into a small, grateful smile, and she leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

- As Katie’s team prepares for another high-profile match, the media frenzy around your relationship intensifies. Paparazzi follow you to the grocery store, articles dissect every outing, and social media buzzes with speculation.

Katie brushes it off, but you can see the toll it’s taking on her.

“It’s just noise,” she says one evening as you scroll through another invasive article. “They’ll move on eventually.”

But you’re not so sure. Your personal life is now public property, and the constant attention makes you feel exposed in ways you never expected.

The breaking point comes when a particularly nasty headline accuses you of being a distraction to Katie’s career.

“She’s better off without her,” the article declares, accompanied by a photo of the two of you walking hand in hand.

Katie finds you staring at the article, your face pale.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, her tone laced with concern.

You shove your phone toward her, your voice trembling. “This. They’re saying I’m ruining your career.”

Katie skims the article, her jaw tightening. “This is bullshit,” she says sharply. “You’re not ruining anything. If anything, you’re the reason I’m still sane.”

“But what if they’re right?” you whisper. “What if I’m hurting you without even realizing it?”

Katie sets the phone down and takes your face in her hands, forcing you to look at her. “Don’t do this to yourself. Don’t let them get in your head. You’re not a distraction—you’re my anchor. And I wouldn’t trade that for anything.”

Her words bring tears to your eyes, and you nod, letting her pull you into a tight hug.

- In the weeks that follow, you and Katie work to establish a new normal. She arranges for better security to protect your privacy, and you agree to limit your public appearances together to avoid fueling the media fire.

But behind closed doors, your relationship thrives.

Katie starts taking you to her matches, sneaking you into the players’ section so you can cheer her on without drawing attention. You learn the ins and outs of football, surprising even yourself with how invested you become.

And in return, Katie makes an effort to understand your world. She reads your favorite books, asks questions about your work, and even tries her hand at cooking one night—though the results are disastrous.

“It’s the thought that counts,” you tease as you survey the charred remains of what was supposed to be dinner.

Katie groans, burying her face in her hands. “Remind me never to set foot in a kitchen again.”

You laugh, pulling her into a hug. “Deal. But you’re doing the dishes.”

- The turning point in your relationship comes during Katie’s next big match—a game that could make or break her team’s season.

You sit in the stands, your heart pounding as you watch her on the field. She’s a force of nature, her every move calculated and precise. But as the game drags on, the opposing team scores, and you see the frustration etched across her face.

When the final whistle blows, Katie’s team has lost, and the stadium is heavy with disappointment. You make your way to the locker rooms, unsure if she’ll even want to see you.

But when she emerges, her expression tired but determined, she spots you immediately.

“Hey,” she says, her voice soft.

“Hey,” you reply, stepping closer. “You played great.”

She shakes her head. “Not good enough.”

You hesitate, then reach for her hand. “Katie, you’re allowed to be upset. But don’t forget how much you’ve already accomplished. You’re incredible, and one match doesn’t change that.”

Her eyes soften, and she pulls you into a hug, holding you tightly. “Thanks, love,” she murmurs. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’ll never have to find out,” you whisper back, meaning every word.

- The loss is a blow to Katie’s confidence, but it also sparks something in her—a determination to prove herself. She throws herself into training, spending extra hours on the field and analyzing game footage late into the night.

At first, you worry she’s pushing herself too hard, but she reassures you.

“I need this,” she says one evening, her voice steady. “I need to know I gave it everything.”

You support her in every way you can, packing her lunches, sneaking notes of encouragement into her bag, and even attending more matches despite the paparazzi. Slowly, the cracks in her confidence begin to mend.

Katie’s hard work pays off in her next match, where she dominates the field and leads her team to a decisive victory. The stadium erupts in cheers, and you can’t help but feel a surge of pride as she looks up at you in the stands, a triumphant grin on her face.

Afterward, she finds you waiting for her outside the locker room. Before you can say a word, she sweeps you into her arms, spinning you around.

“You’re amazing,” you say breathlessly, laughing as she sets you down.

Katie smirks. “I know. But hearing it from you makes it better.”

- As Katie’s career continues to soar, so does the scrutiny around your relationship. But instead of letting it break you, you and Katie learn to face it together.

You stop reading the tabloids, and Katie makes a point to shield you from the worst of it. “It’s just noise,” she reminds you. “What matters is us.”

And she proves it every day. Whether it’s through small gestures—like leaving flowers on your desk—or grand declarations, like when she dedicates a game-winning goal to you, Katie makes it clear that you’re her priority.

One evening, as you sit on the balcony of her apartment, watching the city lights twinkle below, she turns to you with a serious expression.

“Y/N,” she begins, her voice uncharacteristically nervous, “I’ve been thinking a lot about us.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Should I be worried?”

She laughs, shaking her head. “No. But I want you to know that I’m all in. Whatever happens—whether I win or lose, whether the media loves or hates us—I’m not going anywhere. And I hope you feel the same.”

Tears well up in your eyes as you nod. “Of course I do. You’re stuck with me, Katie McCabe.”

“Good,” she says, her grin returning. “Because I wasn’t giving you a choice.”

- The years that follow are a mix of highs and lows, victories and setbacks, but through it all, your love for each other only grows stronger.

Katie continues to dominate on the field, earning accolades and respect from fans and teammates alike. And you carve out a life for yourself that feels fulfilling and balanced, even amidst the chaos of being with someone in the spotlight.

There are challenges, of course. Arguments over schedules, moments of doubt, and the occasional media frenzy. But you learn to navigate them together, always coming back to the foundation of trust and love you’ve built.

One evening, as you sit together on your couch, Katie leans over and kisses your temple.

“You know,” she says softly, “I never thought I’d find someone like you.”

You smile, resting your head on her shoulder. “Someone who puts up with your terrible cooking and late-night football rants?”

She laughs, her arm wrapping around you. “No. Someone who makes me better. Someone who makes all of this—everything—worth it.”

Tears prick your eyes as you look up at her. “I feel the same way.”

And in that moment, you know that whatever the future holds, you’ll face it together.

Because love, real love, isn’t about perfection. It’s about finding someone who makes the imperfections worthwhile. And with Katie, you’ve found exactly that.

(Woah, this was a long one.)

#arsenal women #arsenal #katie mccabe x reader #katie mccabe #woso community #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso fanfics #woso

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luna-loveboop · 1 year ago

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Ok ok so Time and Winds relationship

If you look at their progression of interactions through the comic, their relationship has a very distinct storyline/character arc and it's really really cool ok

So starting at the beginning (their first and early interactions).

Time likes Wind (I mean who doesn't) they have the hero connection, and there's a lot for Time to see himself in him.

Time doesn't underestimate Wind like some of the others, he knows perfectly well what's it's like to be a young hero (way too young like geez) and still be perfectly capable.

And then everyone splits up. They enter their new timeline/era thing through the portal and they separate into groups to try and find information, and Time and Wind go together. (why is that? Maybe Wind went with who he knew wouldn't underestimate him, and maybe Time wanted to get to know him a little more. Many possibilities.)

With the group split they end up fighting a bunch of monsters (of course). And the scene after the battle is just... Time takes Wind’s sword and compliments it, the art is so soft, it's just... it's the start of them have a really caring connection

ALSO- TIME QUOTING SHADE TO WIND TIME QUOTING SHADE TO WIND

Look of a hero, discipline with the blade... those were phrases used in twilight princess by Hero's Shade (Time's skeleton ghost thingy?) when he’s teaching Twilight how to fight and become the hero he needs to be. And the fact that Time is quoting that to be Wind's mentor and guide him as a young hero is so cool. (So. Cool.)

And at the end, after the battle, Wind asks him that question, “I was wondering... about your original journey” And Time actually answers Wind's question. He tells him about his journey, and this starts a whole new chapter in their relationship. Because guess who went into detective mode? Wind.

He starts theorizing, and actually tries to get a chance to bring it up at first (“speaking of history-”), but eventually finds (makes) a moment to explain his findings.

And Time's skeptical, of course he is.

There's a few reasons why, but here's the main one: Twilight. In this scene where Wind is explaining why he believes he is the hero after Time, his descendant, Twilight, makes two appearances.

But Twilight is not part of the conversation. He's sitting a distance away, and we have no indication that he even knows they’re talking. Yet Time still looks over to him, because Twilight is his descendant. He KNOWS Twilight is his successor, but in this conversation they puzzle out a bit more of the timeline split.

And Time realizes... he has two hero's that came after him. Twilight in the main path, the one that Time previously believed was the only timeline, but there's actually more...

And at the end of that section, Time’s a little overwhelmed (who wouldn't be when you're figuring out you broke the flow of time...)

But, this is the start of Time and Wind’s relationship with Time knowing Wind's one of his successors

Yet even though he's overwhelmed, he touches Wind and acknowledges the facts he's puzzled out (and it's so so sweet)

Buuuuuut this starts a whole new chapter in their relationship. For the section where they’re puzzling out the timeline, and the next, look at their faces. You can see it in those conversations, they're uncertain. Time is trying to reshape his understanding of the world (he’s shaken and looks pretty tired, probably because he found out he left a whole timeline without a hero whoopsies)- but he also cares about Wind and wants to be there for him as well. And Wind looks very nervous around Time. He's excited that he knows he's the hero he heard about before him, but he's nervous about getting closer to him like he wants to.

Then Time goes into detective mode.

And there’s one thing Time really starts wondering: how the hell did Wind’s hyrule get flooded? It was not, in fact, a giant ocean when he left that timeline. So he asks, and Wind answers, but they don’t really start timeline talk with the rest of the group yet.

And I would like to point out that apparently Time and Wind have like. Half the brain cells of the entire group. Because we see literally no one else (at this point) has had whole sections where they’re puzzling out the timeline, but these two are over here obsessing over it lol.

After they have those talks about timelines and kingdoms, they don’t have all the answers yet, but what they have established is this: in Wind’s timeline, he is Time’s successor, and they both want to be close because of that.

And then Time just like!! Adopts Wind :)

With all this build up and conversations, we now see Time and Wind spending so much more time together.

In the group they start ending up walking near each other more often, and they start fighting closer together in battles a bit more

But it’s not one sided- we see Time keeping an eye on and watching out for Wind during battle, as well as Wind defending Time when a skeleton was like. Falling on them. And they’re just working and fighting for each other and it’s awesome.

And it’s cool because through the storyline we see the progression: Time’s the hero dad for everybody, but then he and Wind fight together, and start talking about their journeys to each other, then puzzling out the timeline, then acknowledging that Wind is a successor to Time, and asking questions, and then we see them get so much closer throughout the storyline.

(And Time is still so close to Twilight obviously, he’s his descendant and they have such a special bond but then he’s also developed this unique relationship with Wind too and it’s great)

And so it’s just evolved into a really sweet relationship because Wind looks up to Time, and Time is kind of his mentor, but at the same time he respects Wind’s strength.

And the fact that in the first place Time was willing to tell Wind about his journey simply because he asked, leading to all these discussions and getting closer… well. They care for each other, and it shows.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu time #lu wind #Lu twilight #loz #lu #they just have the best bond and I love it #you can literally watch them get closer throughout the storyline and it’s just *screams*#I love them :)#let me know if there’s any lore mistakes in here I tried to be careful but #let me hear your thoughts

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kingtomura · 3 months ago

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Vitality | 5

Summary: You were always told heroes and villains had no place in your home. Not when there’s an increase in crime, not when there’s monsters on the loose in Hosu and certainly not when the man in your home raises a hand to you. All it takes is one impulsive decision to change your life forever. content: shigaraki tomura x female reader, slow burn, hurt/comfort, mutual pining, reader has a quirk, graphic depictions of violence, past abuse, past sa, angst, pstd, eventual smut, dark themes, found family LoV, mdni wc: 5.8k | prev | chapter 6 | m. list | read on ao3

Shigaraki can’t seem to figure out what it is about you that pulls you to him. It’s something that gnaws at the walls of his brain and it makes his skin itch.

When he’s plotting schemes — you’re there. When he’s in the field, away on missions that will progress his goals — you’re there. And when he closes his eyes at night to go to bed?

You’re there.

Haunting his mind like a ghost.

A ghost of his past, a ghost of his present. He just can’t put his finger on it but there is a familiarity in you that only he can see.

Shigaraki has always had hazy memories, but this one is so distinct — it replays in his mind at the worst of times.

Is it your face? So innocent, so kind, but filled with hidden valor. Something so easily overlooked by your usually skittish demeanor.

Shigaraki has taken notice of that. It was one of the first things that caught his eye about you.

But is it your personality? The way there is more than meets the eye — a budding courage and fortitude growing under the concrete of your fragile frame of mind.

He didn’t know. All he knew for the time being was that this bothered him. It gave him things to think about that had nothing to do with the new society he would bring.

It was a distraction.

There’s a sharp pain along the side of Shigaraki's neck and it’s then he realizes his bad habit of scratching has made itself known again. Something he’s been trying to work on has pried its way back into his mind.

Whatever.

It doesn’t matter what these feelings mean — all that matters is his goal and his plans to bring it into fruition.

Anything else is a distraction.

———————

You have to leave today.

The mission shouldn’t take long — three days max, but you still feel anxious about it. Dabi is in charge and you trust him to know what he’s doing.

You don’t really trust him to keep you safe, though.

It should be simple enough — stay back, do your job and come back to the base.

A quick and easy mission.

Or it would have been, until Dabi paid you a visit.

“Do you understand?” his voice drags, air of boredom present as if he didn’t just turn your world upside down.

Dabi wants you to help on the mission. He wants you to—

“But that wasn’t the plan! I’m a healer.”

His cerulean eyes narrow, slight hint of irritation flashing over his features before it's gone again, “I know what you are. This would be more useful.”

You stare at him as he flippantly waves you off and starts towards your doorway, unaware that you are sick at the notion of helping someone cause harm.

“It’s not optional.” He tacks on, words ringing in your ears.

You're struck still as Dabi departs, leaving you alone to bear the burden of silence as you anticipate what your new role will bring.

It’s clear that you’ve lost.

Dabi wants you to help him interrogate the moles.

He believes that your healing would pair well with his burning. A tactic that can wear the moles down enough to give the information Dabi seeks. It’s a cruel task and one you were not sure you could go through with.

You may be a villain now but you are not evil.

You were not cruel — no matter how cruel the world had been to you.

The thoughts weigh on your mind as you move to stand, nerves buzzing as you begin to pace around your room.

No, no, you were a healer. Maybe you were never intending to be a hero, but you never want to harm others either. Even if those others hold the title of villain.

There had to be another way.

You stop, still in your tracks as the metaphoric lightbulb goes on in your head, steering the gears on your mind into action as the thoughts fall into place.

You had an idea — a plan.

A small smile makes its way onto your face and you feel as though you’ve solved the unsolvable.

Maybe, just maybe, no one had to get hurt on this mission.

———————

The sound of dripping pipes and scatter of steps too small to be human grate your ears and make you shudder.

It’s creepy down here.

That’s the only thing that comes to mind as you trail behind Dabi through abandoned tunnels.

You sidestep some fallen debris and realize that the underground tunnels here are a reminder to never take the tunnels below the bar for granted.

It’s slummy, it’s dark and it smells like abandoned agony.

There are graffiti stains along the walls, leaking pipes against the ceilings and the floors are littered with fluids of all colors.

Just being down here makes your stomach twist as your body subconsciously moves closer to Spinner, who trudges beside you as you all navigate through the area.

Your father would have never allowed you to roam a place like this.

But he’s not here anymore.

And you’re a villain now.

(Kind of.)

Dabi is in front of you, leading the way as you all trek the halls of the abandoned underground. He moves with the confidence of someone who has seen and done this a million times. You absently wonder if he has.

You knew next to nothing of Dabi. Nothing about where he’s from, how he’s grown up or where he got his burns — nothing.

But with his steel gaze and uninterested tone, you think it’s better that way.

Maybe knowing nothing could be a gift.

“How much longer?” Spinner breaks the silence as his voice echoes through the halls.

Dabi doesn't look back, only continuing his trek along the tunnels. “Just keep moving.”

As desperate as you are to know where this trek is heading you decide to hold your tongue. The air of this place is eerie enough and the sooner you get there, the sooner you can leave.

But it’s odd, you’ve been walking for what feels like hours and you can’t help the nagging feeling that nothing has really changed.

Not until you all come up on a large corridor. One with two identical, dark pathways.

Dabi stops in his tracks, leading you both to follow his actions. “Alright wannabe, you go left, I’ll go right.” He throws you a glance, features as indifferent as his tone. “Healer, you’re with me.”

“We’re splitting up?” Spinner pipes up, frustrations of the endless trail palpable and you silently wonder if sending him alone was the safest way to go.

“To cover more ground. You have your way to contact me if you find them.” the arsonist shrugs, mind set on the given direction and you hurry to keep up with him — Spinner going in his respective direction with more brevity than you had previously given him credit for.

There’s a slight ping in your chest and you kick yourself for thinking Spinner couldn’t hold his own alone. He was still a part of the League afterall.

You and Dabi both veer right, into the limitless corridor with dim lights sparking like they could go out at any moment.

This is not a place you would want to find yourself alone in.

With the crunch of broken beer bottle glass and deep red splatters of what you could only assume as blood along the walls, you truly wonder what you’ve walked into.

You decide to tread beside Dabi, catching up to his stride and ensuring he won’t leave your sight.

The warmth radiating from his body is as nice as it is intimidating. It shows just how hot his body naturally runs from his dormant quirk.

But it’s comforting. It blankets you and soothes the goosebumps that had spread across your skin in the chilled air of the tunnels.

The silence between you feels natural and not forced, even though your curious questions about his past pry themselves to the forefront of your mind.

You prefer this, you think. Wandering in silence while looking for the moles. You almost feel.. safe with Dabi here to guide the mission.

“Hey—”

You gasp and turn back, swearing you heard another voice.

But there was nothing there.

“Spinner?” You call out into the depths of the hall, walls fading into pitch black as you stare and wait for a response.

The dark abyss is quiet as you wait for any signs of movement, but everything is stock-still.

You turn back to Dabi, eyes lingering on the darkness, “did you hear that—?”

You look around but the arsonist is nowhere to be found. The sinking feeling in your heart deepens as your palms grow sweaty with simmering fear.

“Dabi?”

Nothing.

He was there just a moment ago, there was no way he could have left your sight. It’s a one way hall with no other doors.

No, you think, panic rising as you move to sprint down the hall, go the way you know he has to be walking, Dabi wouldn’t leave you in here alone.

Before you’re able to take your next step, hands engulf you, the sheer shock causes a cry to escape your lips only to be quieted by another hand covering your mouth.

“Gotcha.”

———————

There's a sluggish and slow pull as you fight to open your eyes. Your nose twitches as your body feels like it's been thrown underwater and brought back to shore just moments before an inevitable demise.

You feel heavy.

It’s a struggle to move your arm and it takes even longer for you to realize they’re being held together by your wrists. You fight harder to blink yourself awake and it’s then that you notice the voices speaking amongst themselves in the foreign space you’ve found yourself in.

Your vision is blurry but you flutter until there’s clarity.

Their voices sound muffled, like you were really underwater as they spoke, but the more you focused the clearer things became.

There were three men in this room.

One had dark hair and gleaming red eyes, while the other looked to be much younger. He sat atop a dusty desk and leered at you from a distance, speaking with the third man in a tone too chipper for the line of work he must be in.

The third man in question had you held by the wrists.

He was behind you, laughing as one hand held your wrists and the other roamed in places that made you feel sick to your stomach.

“Oh look, she’s awake. Morning princess.” The younger one spoke, green eyes almost glowing despite the darkness of the room.

Morning? No, there was no way it was morning, but you couldn’t tell up from down right now. You tried and tried, but the grogginess you felt just would not go away.

You move to speak, but the man behind you is faster, bringing a hand to your mouth to stop your voice before it's free.

Your eyes dart around the room, seeking any form of familiarity. You only spot a worn down chair that one of the men had occupied, an old, dusty office desk and several metal wire shelves.

Nothing helpful.

You try again to release your wrists, body slow moving and feeling as though it had been made of lead, but you fight with the strength you have. The man behind you only chuckles, easily amused by your struggle.

“Whoa there, don’t hurt yourself. My quirk has you doped up with enough tranquilizer to take down a bear.”

His quirk. Of course.

You mentally kick yourself at the oversight. How could you be so naive?

He leans closer, breath ghosting your ear. “Just relax.”

You scramble to remember your training, your fighting skills, anything but it all comes up short against a real life threat. The reality of the situation only makes you sick to your stomach and you cannot believe how woefully unprepared you are.

You look at the two men in front of you through dreary eyes and know that it doesn’t take a genius to see where this is going.

Your brows knit in frustration as you begin to feel lightheaded once more, but you desperately try to stay centered.

“We really don’t have time for this.” A voice speaks up, it's the man with dark hair and narrowed eyes glaring at the other man holding you. You finally notice his lit cigarette and the way it’s awful smell clouds the room.

The sleeze behind you only chuckles, dark and low as he removes the hand from your mouth to grab your cheeks, squeezing them as he releases your wrists, knowing his quirk has made you weak enough to do so. He pulls you closer by the waist. “Don’t we? Look at her. You don’t come across this often.”

The other nods in agreement, rising from his place on the dusty desk in the corner of the room. Even in your haze you can tell this place is dingy and abandoned — filled with old worn furniture that wouldn't sit on if they paid you.

“Yeah, you should loosen up.” He mocks, stalking towards you with a sly grin, calling back to the third member of the trio. He places a hand on your head, moving your hair from your eyes. “She’s cute.”

Your breath is ragged as you struggle against the hold, forcing the man to release your face and he pins your arms behind your back again instead. “Whoa there, feisty.”

His laugh echoes in your ears and you desperately wonder where your comrades could be at a time like this.

The man before you watches as you search the bare room for any kind of exit, an amused smile on his face.

“Any chance that Blue Flame guy will interrupt us soon?” The one behind you speaks, and you close your eyes, knowing he’s gotten you figured out.

“No way. He’s still stuck in disillusion. By the time he breaks out of it we’ll be long gone.” They both laugh at the idea and it puts your stomach in knots. Of course the other would have a quirk like that.

No wonder it felt like you were going in circles.

It’s because you had been.

“That’s what I like to hear.”

The next moments feel like a blur as you struggle to catch your breath.

He is swift as he turns you toward the desk, pushing you forward and bending you over the dusty surface with ease. The panic from before is back and beating against your chest at full force. There was no way this was happening.

Not like this.

You start to thrash again, even though your body feels like you're trailing it through sludge.

It's pointless.

You try again to yell — to call for Dabi who was supposed to be with you throughout this, but nothing comes out. God only knows where he could be now, trapped in some illusionary quirk, blind to the time passing by. Wandering for hours.

Completely oblivious to the danger you were in.

Your knees tremble when you feel the heat of the other man leering over you, it makes you turn your head, eyes locking with the third guy in the room.

He meets your eyes, reluctantly watching as his comrades make lewd comments about your body and move in on your space. There is obvious disdain in his crimson eyes but he makes no move to comment further.

Damn it, damn it, damn it.

There was nothing you could do to shake the effects of this tranquilizer quirk. Goosebumps rise along your skin as you feel the sticky residue left behind by the other man’s quirk as his hands ghost any bare skin he could reach.

You were going to be sick.

“The plans…” the seated one interjects, desperate to stay on topic. “We have to rendezvous with him again tomorrow night. We can’t stay here any longer.”

“Yeah, yeah, we know.” You heard the younger one interject, disinterest clear in his tone.

“This is our last stint working with the league. Maybe we can leave them a parting gift.” The other breathes from above you, slowly dragging his palms along your clothed sides.

The response makes the third guy roll his eyes and the younger one laughs.

“N-no…” you find your voice, as small and meek as it may be, you choke out a whispered plea, so faint you almost didn’t hear it yourself.

“What’s that girl?” You can hear the grin in his words, to think you had derived a plan that would save these assholes.

To think you didn’t want them to die.

“You scared?” He mocks, “what, you a virgin or somethin’?”

The warm tears begin to fall, pushing past your waterline and onto the dirty desk.

“She’s crying! She is!” The blond shouts, excited at his unspoken discovery.

“How lucky.”

The third of the trio sighs, removing the cigarette from his lips and rising from his place on the chair, but not before making eye contact with you, real eye contact.

The kind that makes your heart jump at the notion — and then you see it.

The flash of pity.

Your heart skips at the flash of his reluctance.

It's so firm and so clear that you can almost feel the idea of him stepping in to save you, knowing that being a villain doesn’t mean you have to be downright villainous, but your hope is crushed as soon as it arrives.

Stomped out onto the asphalt along with the man’s finished cigarette.

The man sighs again, rolling his eyes at his comrades as he makes his way to the door, taking your hopes and wishes with him.

“Well you fuckers better not take too long. I’m leaving.”

And then he’s gone — leaving you with the men who will use and abuse you. There was a chance to stop something horrific but he couldn’t care less.

It makes you think.

It takes you back to your father and his never ending rants of how all men feel the same about girls like you. Stupid, naive and never able to stand on their own.

He put men like this away while wearing the mask of a public servant only to strip the mask and become the same of those he claimed to hate behind closed doors.

But he’s not here anymore and now you were left in the hands of the unfamiliar.

You can’t help the bile that rises in your throat as you wonder if this was destined to be your fate in the end no matter what.

You wish you had a choice.

God, how foolish had you been.

How naive of you to want to save these men from the League's wrath.

You should have known better. You’ve been shown time and time again.

They are all the same.

They would always only want one thing from you and there was nothing you could do to stop or change it.

But…

There’s a flash in your mind, of narrowed red eyes and soft pale hair.

You think of his gloved hand, offering his drink to you. Of his hushed laugh late that night when you unintentionally insulted him. The leader of this group of villains you’ve found yourself a part of, the one who has treated you with nothing but respect since he’s met you.

The sickness returns.

The humiliation burns at your eyes.

Tomura trusted you to be here and now you will pay for it.

It’s as ironic as it is cruel.

You were going to be sick.

“What a prude.” The guy scoffs and turns to his younger comrade, bringing you out of your dissociated stupor and back to your unfortunate reality.

He lifts you once more, putting your body on display for his younger friend and brings a hand around to cup your clothed breast.

He’s loose with his movements, halfheartedly holding your wrist with one hand and gloating with the other. It’s enough to leave your other hand free and you wince as it dangles by your side.

You feel the breeze of the open door, pitch black outside of it and wish you had the strength to make a run for it.

You were so close, like a carrot dangling in front of you face, but just far enough to be out of reach.

His words feel loud in your ears and you close your eyes, resigned to your fate. “He doesn’t know what he’s missin’ out on.”

“Oh, yeah?”

The man tenses and that’s all you register before you feel a strong pull.

A heavy hand grips your forearm and pulls with a force you’ve never felt before. It’s so hot you almost feel burned but your mind is too groggy to care.

And then it happens.

You feel it before you see it.

Blue flames erupt into the room that you were pulled out of.

If there were screams they are too distant to be noted now. All you feel is heat and you’re beginning to sweat. You can't tell if you’ve been overdosed by the guy’s intoxicating quirk or if your mind was too stressed to care.

All you can do is pant and struggle to watch as the familiar blue flames lick the frame of the door and incinerate those inside of it.

(And as you watch the room bathe in flashes of cyan blue and purple hue, the sleezy men wither away into ash — into nothing — it finally clicks in your mind that oh.

His villain name means creation for this reason exactly.)

The men who held you before were no more. That thought alone would have sent you into another fit of tears if the heat from Dabi’s flames hadn’t dried the trails of them from before.

The flame user in question stands beside you, breathing heavy and teeth bared. You can’t tell if the smell of burning flesh is coming from him or the two bodies he’s just burned and you don’t think you can stomach another thought towards the answer.

His brows are pinched in anger and you don’t think you’ve seen this much expression from the man since you’ve known him.

The hand holding your arm is gripping you so tight it almost hurts, but you couldn’t pull away if you wanted to.

As if the idea of letting Dabi go would take this all away — as if it would make you wake up and face a reality where Dabi is not fast enough to save you.

A reality where your nightmares are realized.

“One of them got away.” Dabi low voice rasps and you can only register that conclusion by the footsteps echoing from farther away. He ran the opposite direction, with a head start and far away from Dabi’s wrath. “Maybe Spinner will catch the fucker.”

You can’t bring yourself to speak nor nod. The effects of the quirks toxin are still sweeping through your body with its wrath.

There’s a lasting lump of dread in your stomach that makes you feel bolted where you stand. It pulls and pulls, dragging you lower and lower until you can no longer keep yourself upright.

You tense, mentally bracing yourself to meet the cold hard feeling of concrete, but somehow, the feeling never comes.

———————

There is something to be said to those with heavy quirks. Those who have quirks that stay for much longer than they should and linger well past their welcome.

The intoxicating quirk of the sleezy villain before is definitely one you’re happy you’ll never encounter again.

Your head feels full of cotton as you struggle to catch your bearings, hands gripping the sides of the toilet. It’s been this way since you woke up from the outing.

The unpleasant remains of the toxins have ruined your stomach, and you’ve found yourself here, on the floor of the bathroom for the better half of an hour.

A seesaw of back and forth nausea from the quirk and the fact that those two men are dead.

Gone forever.

Incerated.

You don’t think you’ll ever forget the smell of their burning flesh and the final sounds of their screams.

You wearily eye your cell phone, tossed onto the tile of the floor and locked. It’s inviting, almost calling to you as your hand hovers over it.

You could call Shigaraki and tell him about the disaster mission you’ve just experienced, but you stop yourself.

What did you expect would happen? That he would comfort you like he did on the roof?

He is your leader, not your friend.

You scoff bitterly at your spiraling train of thought.

If you called him now It would just be a show of how incapable you are, and you can’t risk this new home you’ve found.

So, instead of fighting a losing battle, you bring shaky hands to your forehead, the warmth of your own healing quirk soothing you in a way that feels reminiscent to your mother’s ways.

There was no use waiting around in a stuffy bathroom. Men were dead because of you.

You know you shouldn’t feel guilt for it — they were trying to hurt you — but the deaths are so heavy on your mind.

Forcing yourself to stand on wobbly legs, you walk back to your temporary room.

Shigaraki set you all up with a cover home, seemingly belonging to a family of three but long abandoned. You took the room of the young daughter, the place covered top to bottom in lace and frills.

You try not to wonder where she’s ended up.

Your temporary bedroom is down the hall from the bathroom, not too far for any emergency nausea.

And from the short distance you can see that there’s someone in your room.

The closer you get to the door the clearer it becomes that it’s only Dabi, seated and awaiting your return. It would be a lie to say the nausea you felt in that moment only came from the quirk.

“Have a seat.” He wastes no time breaking the air, thick rasp of his voice making you hesitate as you linger in the doorway.

Your eyes fall to the ground as the persistent dread in your gut grows, but you do as he instructs. The bed below you feels too soft, a stark contrast from the firm one you’ve grown to know at the hideout.

You know what this is about, but the anxiety fills you all the same.

There was nowhere to run.

Dabi would tell Shigaraki of your failure today and let him know how you weren’t cut out for this. You would have to leave.

You would have to—

“What are you gonna do?” His dreary voice drags, cutting through your train of thought.

You look up at him.

“What?”

“There’s one more left. Are you going to sit here puking your guts out about this or are you going to finish what they started?”

You eye Dabi wearily.

Was he.. was he trying to encourage you?

With his narrowed eyes and crossed arms this feels more like an attempted pep talk from an emotionally stunted relative than a scolding from a higher up.

“I… I don’t know.” You murmur, unsure of how to heed this conversation. Shouldn’t you be on the chopping block right now? “Two of them are dead. I think I’ve done enough damage—”

You don’t miss the eye roll Dabi couldn’t be bothered to hide.

“Why do you feel sympathetic? They wouldn’t give half a shit about you.” He spits and you flinch at the harsh words, knowing they were nothing but the truth. “Nobody cares about people like us.”

People like us, you think bitterly. Villains. Outcasts. People that aren’t worth saving. People that are lost causes. There are no heroes for those like Dabi — and now, people like you.

The thought makes you choke up, vision blurring as you bring a hand to your mouth. It’s too late to melt from the humiliation of this, and the weight of the day is just too heavy to carry anymore.

“This world is cruel.” He continues, tone even and leveled despite your come apart. “You need to learn to stand on your own. We may not always be there to save you.”

It’s the truth. The cold hard reality you face. You would be lying if you said those hands wouldn’t haunt your nightmares for years to come.

But you wanted to try. As futile as it may have sounded. It’s why even through your tears you speak, “I-I had a plan, you know.”

Dabi’s brow quirks at this, head tilted in interest.

“I didn’t want anyone to get h-hurt. It was stupid, I know! But I wanted to try.”

You expect him to dismiss you, to say how naive and even childish you may sound. You don’t expect his next words.

“And what was that plan?”

You look up, warm tears still cascading down your flushed cheeks and your nose probably looking less than sightly. “What?”

“Tell it to me and maybe we can work something out.” His cerulean eyes shimmer with curiosity. You could practically see the gears turning in his mind as he begins to piece together his own thoughts and ideas for your next courses of action.

And you think to yourself, watching as he listened intently to your words that maybe there was more to Dabi’s personality than meets the eye.

———————

You thought you would never be down in the tunnels again. It was unfamiliar and cold, if Dabi were to light the entire thing on fire you would be fine with it.

Each step you take through these grotesque tunnels makes the pit of dread in your stomach grow deeper and deeper.

It’s unsettling to be back here — even knowing the men were dead.

You look to your right, turning down the next hall and continuing on your way.

Spinner said the last one never left the tunnels and there’s only one way out. You’re sure he’s been backed into a corner with Dabi patrolling the area and Spinner lurking and listening.

That only leaves you. If the man wanted to take the easier target, it’s clear he would choose you.

You almost scoff. Of course he would.

But you were ready today. There were no more illusion quirks and no more ambushing. There was just you and—-

You stop in your tracks, the sound of a footstep slashing against water draws your attention.

The nerves almost build again but you force yourself to focus. This is possibly your last chance to make things right, for yourself more than anything, but also for the mission.

Keep yourself quiet and lure him in, just like Dabi instructed.

His movements are sloppy, you can tell from the way he blows his cover to tackle you from the back, but the same trick won't work on you twice.

You turn, fully ready to send a punch his way when he moves, pushing you to the side and through a weakened door beside you.

You both tumble to the floor, the hard concrete scraping against your arms as you fight for your life with the skills you’d learned from Toga. You know that with her training and your determined mind it will be all the more easy to get the upper hand today.

And you do.

It's a cheap shot, but you hit him where it hurts, climbing onto him when he has no choice but to coil over.

Your bat was lost in the scuffle, forgotten as you pulled out one of Toga’s slender knives she had gifted to you. Training with her had made you adopt many of her ways, but you were thankful for them.

They remind you of how far you had come.

Remind you that no, you were not weak like you once thought.

You look down at the man below you, his eyes closed as he begged for your forgiveness.

You were ambushed.

Your training was not in vain.

“Wait!” The man below you pleads and it's now that you can see the bags under his eyes, whether it be from anguish of his fallen comrades or the lack of sleep you know he hadn’t gotten last night. It doesn’t matter, you can clearly see the cracks.

You pause, holding the knife to his throat with narrowed eyes, the look urges him to continue — to plead his case.

“You don’t have to do this,” he starts and you have to keep yourself from scoffing, “I-I know what they did was wrong — I know! But it had nothing to do with me.”

Your brow twitches in annoyance, but you let him go on. This was your part of the deal you made with Dabi. You wanted a chance to hear them out, or to hear the last one out — to see if there was any way that a compromise could be made.

But now that you had the man here underneath you and groveling you felt something you never had before.

You felt… strong.

“Just let me go.” His words break through your thoughts, they were tired and worn. Like he knew his time was up. “I know you’re better than this.”

This time you scoff at the irony.

Better than this, he says. As if that would have gotten you out of that room unscathed. As if being better than this would have made him step in and stop his comrades from trying to assault you.

Yeah, better than this is complete bullshit.

He’s wrong.

In this world there is no such thing as fairness.

If you let him go, if you let him leave here there’s no telling what else he would leak.

You believe this is why Dabi allowed you the freedom of enacting your plan. The plan where you wanted to hear their side, their story. But now you know better.

It's you or them. Even men who were complacent had no room for your mercy.

So with a (not so heavy) heart you stare down at the man, eyes even and leveled.

“He’s in here!” Your voice echoes throughout the run down building and the man curses you, calls you every name under the sun but you cannot bring yourself to care.

“You stupid bitch—!”

In a world like this one it’s win or lose. Take or be taken.

Kill or be killed.

Dabi is in the room in an instant, whistling an impressed tune.

“Not bad, little bird.” His grin grows as he assesses the scene, staples pulling at his skin in ways you can only assume are painful. “I knew you had it in you.”

He steps closer, gravel crunching under his boots as he bends down eye level with the man.

“Now, let’s get this show started.”

#shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #mha x reader #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki x you #tomura shigaraki x you #tomura x reader #tomura shiragaki #my works

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ailithnight · 2 years ago

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Okay, so, Brain Dead rejected soulmate AU but Danny is the one who rejected Tim.

Let's say in this world that there are many types of soul bonds.

You've got your standard and fairly common First Words and Skin Art.

Then you've got less common things like Shared Dreams, Colorblind Until You Meet, and Red String.

And then you've got the very rare Telepathic Bond and Empathic Bond.

Finally, there's the ultra rare, one in a million, Shared Pain* soul bonds. It helps that the flip side of this particular bond means Shared Comforts**, but still, it is not the kind of bond people hope for.

Naturally, Fenton luck dictates that this is what Danny (and by extension, his soulmate) gets stuck with.

And at first it's fine. Like, bumps and scrapes happen but it's no big deal. Then the bullying starts and Danny feels a bit guilty that his soulmate has to deal with it by proxy.

But, Danny learns how to minimize damage. And the way Danny can feel his soulmate gentle nursing the pains when he can't, indulging in extra comforts for the both of them, makes Danny think that maybe it's okay.

After all, if it was really to much, Danny's soulmate would have already rejected him.

And when Danny's soulmate starts getting a bit more roughed up when they're 13, naturally Danny returns the favor; never wishing to sever the bond, only wishing he could prevent the pain all together.

Then Danny turns 14.

Then Danny dies. But survives.

He cries that night, his soulmate desperately trying to push comfort through their bond while all Danny can think about is how he shouldn't have gone in that portal. He shouldn't have been so reckless. He should have PROTECTED them.

And to top it all off, suddenly he's not just Dash's personal punching bag. No, there's a whole host of ghostly rogues that like to come bother Danny. And maybe it was still okay when it was just ectopusses or Lunch Lady or Boxy.

But as more and more powerful ghosts come through, as the fights get harder and Danny takes more damage, the guilt over what he's subjecting his soulmate to eats at him.

And after Danny meets Vlad, the first enemy he faces that he really can't beat, he makes the decision. This isn't going to end. These fights, these pains...

Someday he's going to face an enemy that is going to grind him into the dirt. That's going to kill him again, probably slowly and unpleasantly, and Danny already subjected his soulmate to one death, he refuses to put him through another.

So Danny mentally reaches deep inside himself, real hands placing themselves above his heart.

Feeling around for the source of that gentle warmth his soulmate is pushing through their bond.

He finds it, grasping with imaginary hands while his real ones clench the fabric of his shirt.

Feels the way the warmth stutters. The sharp jolt of pain on his elbow as his soulmate probably knocks it when he realizes what Danny is doing.

Danny pays it no mind. He holds the bond between then tightly; tears welling up in his eyes as phantom arms wrap around himself, his soulmate's desperate plea for Danny not to do what he's about to.

Danny yanks, physical hands all but tearing the shirt off his chest as mental ones rip the bond from his and his soulmate's hearts.

The last pain they'll ever share comes crashing into him, the distinct Rejection scar crackling across his chest not unlike the Lichtenburg on his arm.

It hurts, but less than dying had.

Then the pain is gone. Or rather, that pain is gone.

The dull aches from the fight with Plasmius throb and a part Danny finds himself missing the soothing comforts his soulmate had provided him, emptiness filling the space they used to occupy.

But another part of Danny, the part that is more ghost than human, swells with pride knowing he has protected his soulmate from Danny's own inevitable fate.

As Danny inspects Rejection spidering out from his heart, a strange hollow giddiness settles in his stomach. It makes him giggle.

His brain notes that if Dash ever sees this, he'll assume he finally succeeded in making Danny's soulmate reject him.

Danny giggles harder.

Not that Danny will correct him. Or his friends or his sister when they find out for that matter. They worry enough about him as is. They don't need to know just how far Danny is willing to go to protect the people he loves.

He's stifling laughter now, trying not to wake the neighbors.

Sitting alone on the roof of Fentonworks at 3 in the morning, Danny laughs until he sobs, then laughs and sobs until he can't breathe, then laughs and sobs and struggles to breathe until a light blue mist comes gasping past he lips.

His hysterics taper of and he lets the now familiar cold feeling of his ghost form spread across his body, pausing only for a second when he notices the new spiderwebbing across the chest of his hazmat suit, just a shade darker than the rest of the black material.

Oh well. It's not too noticeable and if some sees it he can just pretend it was always there. Just like he's going to pretend the emptiness in his heart was always there. Where it belongs.

~~~

Tim is at the Bat Computer desperately searching for any kind of clue who and where his soulmate is.

Of course, Tim had searched before, been searching basically since grade school when it became clear his soulmate was dealing with either bullying or an abusive home.

But Tim's efforts had tripled lately. Ever since that fateful day 4 months ago when he'd practically had a seizure in the middle of family dinner.

It had felt like he was dying, the echos of electric shocks up his arm and into his heart coming through his soul bonds. Followed soon after by the sense of something terrifying and foreign opening up in his chest and forcing its way into every molecule of his body.

Tim is pretty sure he screamed.

It was several minutes before the sensations ended and a strange coldness filled his being. For a minute, Tim was terrified his soulmate had died, until the cold retreated to a place just beside his heart and phantom hands could be felt trying to comfort and soothe.

At the time, Tim thought that would be that. Some kind of terrible accident. A story his soulmate would tell him when they finally found each other.

But that wasn't that.

It started with that strange coldness never leaving the space beside his heart. Then sometimes the coldness would spread, filling his whole body for brief periods of time. Then those periods of time started to come with some kind of pain. A scrape, a bruise, sore muscles.

The kind of injuries Tim got on patrol as Robin.

Which was something he'd not been allowed to do near as much since the aftermath of that dinner when Bruce had learned what kind soul bond Tim had.

"Tim, you can't keep throwing yourself into the line of fire. It's bad enough when you get hurt, but for your soulmate to have to suffer too?"

Stupid Bruce and his stupid rules. Tim and his soulmate had been fine before, thank you very much. And it wasn't Robin that got struck by lightning or something. Tim really isn't sure what kind of accident would result in the things he had felt that night, but electrocution is at least part of it.

But since then, Tim's soulmate had been getting more and more injuries at any and all hours of the day. If Tim had been worried before distressed now. Something had happened and now Tim's soulmate who was already dealing with something before now seemed to be in constant danger. Tim needs to find them, needs to help them, make them safe.

He doesn't look, doesn't take his eyes off the news articles on the screen as a presence appears behind him. No 2 presences. And the elevator dings bringing a third. But Tim keeps scanning articles, looking for some clue about a kid getting electrocuted and a town gaining a young vigilante shortly after.

A heavy hand lands on his shoulder, gravelly voice speaking in gentle tones. "It's almost 4am son." Tim doesn't respond. Bruce sighs and spins the chair around. Dick and Alfred are both there looking concerned and stern respectively. "It's bed time."

"My soulmate is in trouble. They're not safe. I need to find them. And you're worried about my bed time?"

"You need some sleep, Master Tim. You won't know you've found anything if you're to tired to see straight." Bruce nods and Dick puts on his best big brother face.

"Get some rest, Tim. We can keep looking later."

Tim opens his mouth to argue, but pauses at the strange tugging sensation in his heart. He briefly wonders what trouble his soulmate is in now before he realizes what the almost feeling of hands on his soul bond means.

He gasps and jerks in the chair, knocking his elbow on the arm rest and the warm blanket he'd cocooned himself in to send comfort back to his soulmate off his shoulders.

Even Alfred's expression turns concerned when Tim wraps his arms around himself, trying to convey along the soul bond his plea for his soul mate not to do this.

"Tim?" Tim isn't sure which family member speaks. Can't focus on it as his soulmate yanks on the bond, ripping it and the strange comfortable coldness out.

Tim cries out, three sets of hands immediately moving in to comfort him. Sight and sound turn to static as Rejection burns across his chest not unlike the electrocution had crawled up his arm four months ago.

Then the pain vanishes.

And Tim looks up at Bruce, knows he's got tears rolling down his face, searching pitifully for a father's comfort.

"They Rejected me."

Bruce startles, but quickly stoops down to wrap Tim in a hug and Dick lays a comforting hand on Tim's head and Alfred retreats probably to make something comforting and Tim cries at the emptiness where the bond should be and the now too warm spot beside his heart.

And yet, deep in his mind where gears are still turning, Tim resolves to still find his soulmate, even without the bond, if only to ask them why.

This was supposed to be a prompt, maybe a premise, but I got carried away.

So now y'all can have this piece of pain I have no intention of continuing. Enjoy!

And since I don't plan on continuing, if some else wants to run with it, have at and have fun!

*Shared Pain in this AU just means soulmates feel the pain, not that they recieve the injuries. So if a soulmate breaks an arm, the other will feel the break, but their arm will be physically fine.

**Shared Comforts meaning that soulmates also share good feelings. So if one person is all wrapped up comfy cozy in a nice thick blanket, the other also feels that warmth. But like with the pain, it's a phantom feeling. Won't keep the soulmate not bundled up from hypothermia.

#dp x dc #brain dead #rejected soulmate au #my writing #I am aware that Tim is probably super ooc #Buuuut #I don't care #Blorbos are squishy so you can contort them to fit your narrative #Right?#Right

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scorpioriesling · 4 months ago

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Invisible String - Part 2

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Eris x reader

Warning(s): light angst if you squint. Please be advised; future parts might not be suitable for all audiences. Proceed with caution.

Summary: You'd taken the nanny position for the royal family over a year ago, not expecting what would come of it or how close you'd grow to the child you cared for. Things became tough for Eris when his wife left him and his daughter, and he found it increasingly harder to raise Riley himself. He soon realizes, you've provided a lot more than the typical job description duties for his daughter... and maybe for him, too.

SR’s Note: I added in the advisory so that younger / uncomfortable readers won't begin the series without knowing or expecting potential risks in content to come. For those who enjoy or look forward to content as such -- get excited! Nonetheless, I hope readers will enjoy this series that came to me in a dream one night. (; Much love to all.

Tags: @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @talesofadragon @rcarbo1 @mandziaaa @lilah-asteria @a-frog-with-a-laptop @kitsunetori (inbox me or comment if you'd like to be added!)

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

You paced back and forth awkwardly around your room, not sure what to do with your time. Normally, you'd give Riley a bath and see her off to bed -- but not tonight. Her father had come home during dinner today, and you almost couldn't believe your eyes when he'd materialized before the both of you in the dining room.

Gods, you'd never seen her so excited to see him come home in all the time you'd known the two. She truly missed him when he was gone, just waiting to see her dad come home at the end of the day. You understood; to be honest, you worried some nights when he would be gone late, always apologizing like his timing was the end of the world. He failed to realize that it was his safe return you were more concerned with.

You paused, shrieks of laughter heard from the opposite end of the Wing and you smiled to yourself. Padding over to your open doorway, you peeked your head out, listening as Eris' faint voice spoke with his daughter, saying something that had her giggling once more before you heard the distinct sound of her door latching shut. You retreated back into your room, trying to find anything to busy yourself as the sound of his shoes drew nearer toward your room.

"Could I offer any help with the last of those?" Eris asks, leaning casually against the doorframe as he gestures toward the stack of heavy boxes piled in the corner of your room. You turn, crossing your arms and then uncrossing them, not quite finding a comfortable position.

"Um... well, I could probably get them, tomorrow." You shrug, biting on your lower lip. Eris' eyes study your face for a long moment before he chuckles, walking over to the pile and pushing up his sleeves with such grace. He lifts the top box, his arms flexing under the weight as he adjusts his grip under the edges.

You try, really, really hard not to stare.

"I'll leave these outside to be picked up in the morning, unless you needed them to be kept for something?" He asks, and you all but shake your head before he heads out of your room, leaving you in awe. You shake your head, get it together. That is your boss, for Gods sakes. You take a deep breath, pushing your hair behind your ears before reaching for the next highest box, barely reaching the upper rim before its contents nearly spill over on top of you.

"Cauldron damned-" your curse is cut off when the box doesn't completely dump out on to you, but is caught haphazardly between your hands and one of Eris'. His other one is wrapped around your waist, preventing your impending collision with the floor.

"Woah! Woah," he says, his voice much closer than you expected and you open your eyes you'd inadvertently squeezed shut. He loomed over you, holding you so close to his chest that you sucked in a breath, your eyes widening when they met his peering down at you.

"I'm..." you made to stand, and he lifted the cardboard from your hands. "I thought I could help with that one." You said sheepishly. He chuckled, glancing sidelong at you.

"Always trying to do everything," he muttered. "Honestly, I'm just surprised to hear Y/N actually say a bad word out loud."

You set your hands on your hips, raising an eyebrow and ignoring his teasing remark.

"This is my mess, anyhow. I was just trying to help."

He turns, heading for the door once more.

"Allow me to help you for once, hm?" He says, winking and walking out. You roll your eyes, irritated at how warm your cheeks feel. You flit about the room, putting random smaller items away and folding a few articles of clothing as Eris makes the last few trips. When he comes back in for the final time, he sits on the edge of your bed with a sigh, running a hand through his hair.

You look to him, noticing his exhaustion from the day again. "Thank you," you say, and he looks to you again. He offers you a small smile, leaning back on his hands.

"For all that you've done, helping you move a few boxes is incomparable." Your lips curve upward as you place a few more of your skirts inside the drawers of the dresser, averting his eye. After a few shared moments of quiet, he speaks again.

"This room... its... I'm glad someone is using it again." He says, his hand running softly over the duvet. You glance at him, his fallen expression puzzling as you go about tidying up.

"Oh?"

He's quiet again before he looks at you. "I used to avoid coming in here, after... well, after Selene left." He says quietly, and you pause. The air feels thick, you try to keep breathing evenly as your mind races.

"She... the two of you didn't share...?"

"No." He whispers, looking at the floor. "She thought only mates should share a room."

You shoved the drawer closed, walking slowly to the bedside and sitting next to him.

"I'm sure this is common knowledge by now, but our marriage was simply a transaction, a sign of goodwill between our courts." He let out a humorless laugh. "No magic, golden thread there."

For everything he'd done for his court, all the battles he'd won, every fight he'd fought and all he'd witnessed... this was a subject he rarely discussed, as it seemed tomdrag him down the most.

"Eris..." You said softly, reaching out a hand timidly and placing it on his arm. He braced lightly against the touch, and you leaned closer. "I'm so sorry that you were treated that way-"

He sniffed, his hand rubbing along his jaw quickly before he stood, your outstretched hand slowly retracting with the distance between you two.

"It's alright. Nothing for you to worry about, anyway." He flashed a humorless half-smile, and you stared up at him with concern. You could tell it was a tough subject for him, and you definately didn't want to pry; but he didn't exactly have many other people to open up to.

"Well... alright then." You say defeatedly. He nods, turning and heading for the door. He looks over his shoulder only once more before closing the door behind him.

"Sleep well, Y/N."

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

"Apple juice, please?" Riley asks, and you pour her a fresh glass, delivering it to her awaiting hand. She sips quietly, then blinks a few times when you sit down beside her. "Oh -- thanks!" She smiles.

You nod, silently praising her good mannered habits. You could still remember when you arrived at the Forest House, the little spitfire was ordering people around at the ripe age of three. "Give this!" and "Do that!" was all she managed, and though her heart was pure, you did encourage better etiquitte; luckily, it stuck.

"Daddy said he have a surprise," she swung her legs under the table, some of her juice swishing in her cup. You raised an eyebrow.

"Did he, now?" You weren't sure what she was talking about, or if there really was a surprise at all. Eris had made haste this morning, rushing past you this morning on his way out the door. He'd barely kissed his daughter goodbye before he was on his horse and halfway to the border-

"He did! He said he had one." She insisted, and you nodded in understanding. What it could be, you had no clue.

"Well, lets finish our dinner so we're ready when he gets home, yes?" You suggest, and Riley agrees, jamming the last of her chicken nuggets into her mouth and chewing with maximum effort. You shake your head, smiling at just how normal the girl was. You were just glad she found joy in chicken nuggets still, and didn't request challenging dishes every meal quite yet.

Insisting on wearing her fluffy pink footie pajamas, Rylie then sat in your lap on the couch, her stuffed beagle clutched in her hands as you brushed out her wet-clean locks.

"Braid it pretty?" She asks, and you leaned in, kissing the top of her little head. She grinned, holding her little beagle's head to her lips and kissing it's head just the same.

"Anything for you, Riles," you say, getting to work on the long strawberry strands. She sits very patiently for a four year old; that is, until you've secured the band at the end of your work and the front door creaks open.

"Daddy!" She's up in an instant, running to the door with glee and clinging to her father's leg the moment she spots him. You stay seated a moment longer, listening from the living area but not quite ready to see Eris yet. After the tense conversation last night, you couldn't help but feel... awkward, after the conversation.

After a few minutes, Riley has retreated to the living room looking rather dejected. Your brows knit as she stalks toward you, her beagle hanging limply from her fingers.

"Daddy says bedtime. You take me please?" She says, looking down at the floor. You frown, your hands lifting under her arms as she wraps her legs around your waist.

"Of course sweetie," you try to sound upbeat, but she only lays her head on your shoulder. You pet her head, wrapping your other hand around her to keep her propped up against your waist as you make your way to her end of the Wing. You look around as you go, not seeing any sign of Eris on your way. He literally just got home, what the Hell could he possibly have to do right now?

Once you reach her room, you place her gently atop her plush duvet, her eyes half closed when her head touches the pillow. You pull a loose blanket over her legs, knowing sometimes she gets cold at night, and kiss her little cheek one last time before moving toward the door.

"Y/N," she whispers. Your eyes meet hers in the dim light, your fingers stalling as they reach for the glowing tableside lamp.

"Yes dear?"

"Can you please read? Please?" Her bottom lip trembles. "D-daddy always reads... he reads my book..." she sucks in a breath of air, and you rush over to her bed, taking her little hand in yours.

"Yes, of course honey!" You say, hoping she will feel better. "I would love to read you a story," you look left and right, searching for any tomes near her bed. She lifts a limp hand, her finger pointing to the book resting at the opposite end of her bed.

"You'd like that one? The Kissing Hand?" She nods, one tear slipping free and running down her cheek. You hastily grab the book, and she scoots over, making a space for you to lay beside her. You scoot close, reaching an arm around her and she snuggles close as you flip open the book. Her little fingers wipe her tear from her cheek, and you begin to read.

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

You weren't sure when you'd drifted off, but when you slipped back into consciousness, your back ached from its cramped position on the small bed. You looked around, the darkened room coming into view as well as the peacefully sleeping babe next to you.

You must have fallen asleep reading to her, you thought. Surely you'd left the lamp on though; its glow would come in handy now as you tried to slip silently out of her embrace, sneaking out in absolute darkness. At least the door was still cracked open.

You'd stumbled around quietly enough and made it down the hallway to the kitchen, the clock on the wall coming into view.

Four in the morning. Gods.

You kept walking, feeling along the walls until you found your bedroom door, and let yourself inside.

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

You woke up that morning to the delicious smell of cinnamon and sugar, the comfort of your plush bed surrounding you as the first light of day drifted through your curtains. You yawned, stretching out your arms and slowly opening your eyes.

Ahh, what a lovely morning.

Morning. The sun was out.

You threw the covers off of you hastily, your bare feet hitting the cold wood floors in a rush as you lunged for your door handle. Riley was surely awake by now, and surely starving. You bounded down the hallway, your steps faltering when you heard her familiar ramblings from the kitchen and registered the smell of food wafting through the air.

As you approached, you watched in pure shock as Eris stood over the kitchen island, his hand holding his daughters as he helped her spread icing over a tray of steaming cinnamon rolls, smiling and talking along with her. He hadn't noticed you walk in; but she sure did.

"Y/N! Finally! You're awake!" She squealed happily, and you forced a smile, still confused by the scene before you. Eris looked up then, his eyes meeting yours only briefly before he went back to the treats he was making.

"Good morning Riley," you said hesitantly, stepping closer toward the island. Eris' eyes flicked up again, snagging on the silk pajamas you'd changed into before collapsing onto your bed last night. You crossed your arms over your chest.

"Good morning. Eris." You said, and his mouth pressed into a thin line.

"Morning Y/N." He said plainly before turning to Riley, lifting her off the counter and setting her on the ground.

"Bunny, why don't you set the table," he handed her the silverware and a few plates. "And we'll join you in just a few minutes?" She nods, skipping into the dining room, as Eris braces his hands against the countertop, his eyes locked on yours once more.

You stare back, shrugging when you can't understand the point of standing in silence. "What?" You ask. He sighs, biting the inside of his cheek.

"Y/N, I'm sorry for the... discussion. We had. The other night, it was... highly, unprofessional." He nodded, looking down at the pan of cinnamon rolls once more. You raised an eyebrow, a soft laugh erupting from your lips and causing him to flick his gaze to you again.

"What is funny?" He asks, seeming a bit taken aback.

"Nothing, no," you say, smiling softly at him. "I just... Eris, I live in your home. I spend every day with your daughter. I think we're beyond professional, aren't we?" You say. He cocks his head to the side, a small smirk curving the side of his lips.

"I suppose we are, then."

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

"Daddy. These cimanim rolls. Are. Delicious!" Riley grins with delight, Eris' expression a mirror of his daughter sitting next to him at the table. You watch the two and your heart swells; one day, you could only dream of having something so special as that.

"Why, thank you Princess!" Eris says, and she holds her chin high. You shake your head at her, and Eris' eyes meet yours, his face giving away exactly what he's thinking. After a few more quiet moments, he speaks up again.

"Bunny, I wanted to ask you about doing something fun today," he says, and Riley immediately perks up.

"Fun?" She asks, and he nods.

"In the Town Square, there is the Autumn Festival, and it would make me very happy as your daddy if you would go with me-"

"Yesss!" She shrieks, every single one of her teeth showing as she smiles in excitement. You can't help but feel so happy for her -- she deserves time with her father, and he's finally home to spend it with her, doing something she had been longing to do anyway.

"Ohmygosh I can't wait! I will wear my Princess dress so everyone knows I am a Princess, okay," she explains hastily, only pausing to take a sip from her glass of milk.

Eris nods, looking to you. "I figured you may appreciate at least a day off as well," he adds quietly, and you offer him a gentle smile. Truly, you didn't need one, but you appreciated his consideration all the same. Riley doesn't quite catch the incinuation, though.

"Y/N, you have to wear a dress. You can't borrow from me this time because you're too big," she says, hopping from her chair. "You have a dress?" She asks. Your eyes meet her dad's and his mouth opens to answer first.

"Bunny," he starts. "I don't think Y/N was going to come today," he explains. Rileys brows knit in confusion as she looks at him.

"Why not?"

"Well," he says, trying to tread lightly. "Maybe Y/N has other things she would like to do today. It's okay though; just me and you can go." He says, but Riley looks to you, her eyes looking you up and down.

"What... what else do you want to do though?" She says, and you chuckle.

"Riley, honey, today you can go have fun with your daddy, alright? Me and you play here everyday," You reason with her. She doesn't let up, and Eris studies you from across the table.

"Daddy -- can Y/N just come too?" Riley says. You sigh, looking to Eris for help, but he only stares quietly at you, a small smile on his lips.

"I really will just stay here-"

"Yes." Eris says, and you meet his eyes, Riley spinning in happy little circles at the end of the table. "Y/N can absolutely come with us today."

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

#a court of thorns and roses #acotar #a court of silver flames #acosf #a court of frost and starlight #acofas #acotar smut #eris x you #eris vanserra imagine #eris vandaddy #high lord eris #eris vanserra #eris acotar #eris x reader #eris x oc #eris fanfic #eris vanserra fanfic

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mykoreanlove · 1 year ago

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manifested

You were barely awake as you noticed the grip around your waist getting tighter. It was your boyfriend laying behind you, pulling you closer and nestling his head into your neck. He placed delicate kisses on your soft, warm skin while whispering beautiful things in your ear. You felt so giddy, so happy, so in love.

“Princess”, he whispered softly, “Are you awake?”

You didn’t answer but smiled brightly instead. You found his hand placed on your bare stomach covering you with safety and affection. You stroked the soft skin, starting with the back of his hand and ending with his long fingers.

Memories of where those fingers had been last night flooded your consciousness and made you shudder. You felt him grin into the back of your neck.

“I guess you are awake. Good morning, baby.”

You didn’t want to turn around as you were afraid of realizing that this was nothing but a dream. Just another session of your imagination that brightened up your life.

You had sucked at dating all your life – always being tossed aside by the guys you fell for. After a while you were consumed with your fears which resulted in you giving up dating altogether.

“Not everybody is going to leave you. Not everybody is going to cheat on you. Not everybody is going to use you for sex. Not everybody will leave you for someone else. Not everybody is a fuckboy, Y/N!”

Your friend’s words were prominent in your mind for a long time; however, you decided you couldn’t take the risk. No matter how hard you tried you couldn’t believe in the possibility of her words being true. Being convinced that no guy on this planet would ever want you – really want you – was burned into the core of your whole being.

But what if an imaginary boy could?

You often daydreamed about him, just for fun. Imagining being with the one that truly loved you made you feel better, so you kind of turned your imagination into your own real world.

In here, everything was peachy. You had no idea how you did it but the most handsome guy on mother earth fell for you. He was tall, slim yet muscular and moved with vigor. He was in his early twenties, just like you. He had piercing dark eyes, a distinctive nose and full lips. His porcelain skin was flawless and perfectly accentuated by his long, black hair. Since you enjoyed him so much in your daydreams you even gave him a name – Sam.

Ever since inventing Sam nothing was the same for you. Hand-crafting the perfect man made you happy, seen and appreciated. You finally had the feeling that you were truly wanted for all that you were. Every day you spent lots of moments in your head imagining what it would be like to really date him.

After waking up you would place your arms around yourself and imagine it was him hugging you, wishing you a good morning.

While pouring black coffee into your favorite mug you imagined him standing next to you smiling brightly. “Here”, he handed you some sugar, “to make the coffee as sweet as you, y/n.”

During your daily walks you’d imagine him with you, holding your hand and stroking your thumb while chatting with you.

And at night, when you were left with your dirty thoughts and desperation, you imagined it were his lips on your clit sucking, instead of the pink sex toy you bought ages ago.

After a while your inner world felt so true to you, so real, that you actually felt like a different person. You were no longer y/n, single and desperately afraid of heartbreak, but y/n, happily partnered with the love of her life.

Naturally, you showed up different in the world. You had that glow, that aura, that only people who are fresh in love had to offer. You oozed confidence and fulfillment, no longer looking for someone to complete you.

Everybody noticed the change in you and approached you differently: your friends loved your sudden wholeness and congratulated you on being your best self, past lovers popped up and found their way into your DMs, begging for another chance as well as random strangers who asked you out on the street.

You rejected them all – in your head you were happily partnered to Sam. Your loyalty belonged to Sam.

Until one day you were out enjoying some pancakes when you were approached by a guy that resembled your imaginary boyfriend a bit too much.

“You might think I’m crazy and I probably am, but I couldn’t help myself. Ever since I saw you, I had to come and talk to you. It’s like.. I feel like I am magically drawn to you. I’m Hyunjin by the way.”

This was definitely odd, but you didn’t think he was crazy at all. You felt it, too. You shared an intimate connection even though you had never met. Being with Hyunjin felt natural, comfortable – as if you had been doing it all the time.

You forgot your fears about dating and heartbreak – in fact, they never made their comeback into your conscious mind. All you thought about was Hyunjin and how he made you feel.

Desired.

Loved.

Sexy.

Confident.

Wanted.

Appreciated.

Taken care of.

Safe.

His resemblance to Sam was almost frightening – they shared the same looks, mannerisms and characteristics. Sometimes you joked about dating your imaginary duplicate but deep down you knew it was far from comedy.

Your imaginary relationship started out as a relief, as a way to make you feel better about being lonely but somehow you managed to find a guy that was identical to your made-up boyfriend. You would have freaked out by now but luckily, he had another name, so you kept your trust in funny coincidences rather than magic.

“Princess”, Hyunjin’s kisses brought you back to actual reality. “I was thinking about taking a trip to the states to visit my relatives and friends from high school. Do you want to come with me? Say yes, please.”

You turned around cheerily. “You lived in the states?”

Relationships were a funny thing – you were fluent in Hyunjin’s body language and knew his deepest secrets, but random things like past high school exchanges were still foreign to you. He nodded while his fingers were caressing your face. “Yeah, for a couple of years I lived there. It was a crazy time, completely different to here.”

You leaned into his touch more. “Different how?”

“Well, the language for starters. The culture was way more open. I felt cooler in a way. Oh, and I even got another name since no American could pronounce Hyunjin without insulting my Korean ancestors.”

Your eyes shot up in panic. “Another name?”, you muttered. Hyunjin nodded unknowingly.

“Yeah, my English name is Sam. Why?”

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coddda · 7 months ago

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Hiiiiiii. Episode 25/26 lawlight analysis rant thingy here. I don't know how to write an intro for this so let's just get to it LOL

I think one of the reasons that the rain/foot scenes stick out so much (the. Sheer insanity of a Foot Massage Scene in an anime revolving around two guys trying to kill each other aside 💀) is the fact that the anime specifically suffers a bit in terms of adapting a few of the "emotional" moments in death note.

And I don't mean "emotionally impactful" exactly. For example I think the adaptations of scenes like Raye and Naomi's deaths were very impactful and the atmospheres of their final scenes were great, but I mean more from a characterization standpoint (if that makes sense). Being more focused on mind and logic games, Death Note as a whole isn't as invested in individual characters' deeper feelings as it is in its action (which isn't necessarily a criticism per say, it's simply part of the nature of a mystery thriller series). But just because they're fewer and farther between doesn't mean there are none at all. In the manga we do get to see, for example, how much Light actually cared for his family and especially Sayu, and how he actually felt more conflicted and suffered lack of sleep/appetite when he first used the Death Note.

The anime specifically as an adaptation is pretty good at adapting the main mind fuckery and action of Death Note, but its lacking in properly adapting scenes like the ones I mentioned above is a criticism I see somewhat often, and it's pretty fair imo. Compared to all the other adaptations, it certainly seems to fall short on an emotional level: the musical has entire songs going in depth about the characters feelings and relationships, the 2015 jdrama is. Insane and has its emotional moments in spades (because it's a TV drama, which are more focused on portraying emotional conflict and the like), even the 2006 movies has its emotional beats and L Change the WorLd is. Well. Oh Man.

Anime Light to a lot of people is like. Light but he's "already evil" (which I have my own thoughts on but I digress). Light but after using the Death Note for like 2 minutes he's already like "fuck yeah time to kill criminals". Basically the anime doesn't take as much time to delve into his less cynical sides or really delve into his already vague and harder to decipher feelings in general, he is noticeably colder from the get-go here, etc.

But that's part of why I think episode 25 manages to stand out so much tonally (apart from it being, y'know, the episode L literally Dies). I love the episode so much and could probably rant for hours about how much I love the artistic choices made in it but what I'm trying to get at here is that it's one of the very few moments where the show tries to go deeper into specific character's emotions, and one of the very few moments where the show Attempts (emphasis on "attempts" because, well, you'll see in a bit) to get more in-depth into Light's feelings apart from his cynicism/apathy/justice. ness.

L in these two scenes in episode 25 is, well, pretty damn open about how he feels. It's usually interpreted as him knowing that he's going to die, and you can see it. He visibly looks/sounds lost, somber, etc. He never really had much to hide around Light to begin with (since he doesn't really care about hiding himself the same way Light does) but especially not now and it Shows, and I personally thought it was pretty cool to delve into his thoughts/show how he feels this way. The somberness can be felt throughout the entire scene, even people who don't already know the plot of Death Note from the manga could probably tell that he's about to die.

In the manga, once L starts suspecting Misa again and Rem realizes what Light is trying to do, it goes straight to Watari and L's deaths, but the anime instead gives a distinct and unexpected pause in the middle of this where L contemplates his own death. It's fucking great, and the shift from straight action to slower emotional weight makes these scenes stand out a lot, since, like I said, the show usually focuses more on the former. But it's kind of ironic, too.

Not only does the anime open up L's feelings more in these scenes, but it also tries to dig deeper into Light's feelings as well through L. And it's really funny honestly because while, yes, these are the more "emotionally open" scenes of the anime Light still manages to be Incredibly avoidant and contribute almost nothing to the entire ordeal.

L is visibly upset -> "Yeah Ryuzaki, you're not making any sense at all" (Not addressing the obvious conflict from L)

"Tell me, Light. From the moment you were born, has there ever been a point where you've actually told the truth?" -> "[The most stale, over-explained, avoidant answer to a "yes/no" question that you could ever hear + blatant attempts to reframe the question]"

(L's half-smile here kills me) "I had a feeling you'd say something like that" -> [Nothing]

"I'm sorry" -> [Nothing]

"It'll be lonely won't it? You and I will be parting ways soon" -> [Nothing]

^ From this point Light continues to say literally Nothing for the rest of the scene. I'm not even joking, from then on the rest of Light's voicelines are reduced to nothing but vague noises of confusion.

Everytime L calls Light out as a person ("Has there ever been a point where you've actually told the truth?" / "I had a feeling you'd say something like that." / "Won't it be lonely?") he doesn't actually acknowledge anything. Out of those three lines, he only answers verbally to if he's ever told the truth, and even then it's the most blatantly people-pleasing answer ever, as it usually is with Light. And I don't think it's because Light just. Doesn't care about any of what L's saying at all, or that he doesn't know what the hell he's talking about (questioning Light's authenticity as a person, saying it would be lonely when they part), instead he's choosing not to acknowledge any of what this means about himself or him and L at all. He's like a fucking wall.

And like, for the truth question in particular, the show makes sure that you know it's not something that Light just. Doesn't care enough about to answer. The hard cuts to silence are a very rare but extremely effective way that the show conveys an extremely important moment (see: Light regaining his memories, Matsuda noticing Light opening the warehouse door before he escapes (not as much of a "direct" cut to silence but still)), and cuts to multiple angles/framings/zooms of the exact same shot are also used for the same purpose (see: Light hugging Misa when she was crying, Matsuda aiming his gun to shoot Light, Light regaining his memories Again). Just like the scene where Light gets his memories back, the moment L's question finishes the show utilizes both. That question cut Deep. There's is a solid Almost 5 seconds of silence before the sound of the rain gradually starts fading back in, and honestly that should be telling enough as is (but of course Light doesn't actually admit that. Or anything at all really, so). Oh also another fun detail! We do not see Light's face At All (except for the shot where you can see his mouth moving but not his eyes), for the Entire time that he's going on his spiel to L. We Will Be Revisiting This Later, by the way. This is not, in fact, the first time you're going to see this detail from Light.

The only sort of reciprocation that we see from Light during Any of these two scenes is when Light dries L's hair while L dries his feet. Biblical meanings/references aside it's interesting because it's the only time he directly does anything "for" L in these scenes, but even then he doesn't try to pass it off as anything meaningful really the same way L does ("You're still soaked", a purely neutral and factual statement. It doesn't Add Anything compared to L's. Sin atonement loneliness grieving stuff. While Light is showing his own reciprocation to this more personal moment he also tries to keep it impersonal enough that it doesn't actually have to mean anything deep). And when L says "I'm sorry" after he once again gets no response from Light. It's also after this that L gets that pained look on his face, like he knows that at this point he's not actually going to get anything meaningful from Light (again, very significant and rare from L in the show. We've seen him in distress (see: when Ukita died, hell, when Watari dies), but even then he mostly manages to keep his usually neutral expression), we never see him "look sad" like he does here):

I just think it's interesting that this is one of the few scenes in this particular adaptation of Death Note where they try to open up the character's thoughts/feeling (especially considering the fact that they. lowkey blunder in adaptations of original scenes from the manga), and L himself is being rather open (not that he ever really tries to hide what he thinks nearly as much as Light), and yet all Light contributes to it in return is like. Actually nothing. Bro fumbled it. There is no resolution to any of this, to any of what L asks at all, to any of the many opportunities for a meaningful conversation, and the only thing even relatively close to an answer that you can get from Light is what you can infer from how he acts in the episode after L dies, where he's just going through the motions, but hardly acting as if he's actually living at all.

(Honestly I think the transition from this scene with the taskforce to the subsequent scene with Misa says enough on its own. Light's expressions and tone says everything:)

(Oh sidenote but. This shit again:

"Light, this is our first date in forever. can't you enjoy yourself a little more?" ('Why don't you seem happy? We can finally be together since L is dead') -> No response, Light instead changing the topic to him wanting to move in with Misa without changing his mannerisms at all

Also there's that one detail again. You pretty much don't see Light's expression when he speaks here at all, except for one shot of his eyes, which is quite literally the exact same shot they used when he "saw" L, just altered for the new setting. You have No idea what he looks like when he's responding to Misa, although it's probably fair to assume that it's the same empty stare he has for the whole Two Shots where you can clearly see his whole expression in the entire scene.

Something something Light Yagami bad at feelings I think you get the point though)

I guess Light's Kind of showing what he's feeling now? He'll admit to himself that it's boring without L, but no more than that. Light never actually admits to anything "significant", and L's dead already anyway, so what would that even do?

And then we get, uh. Basically nothing from Light. For the next 5 Years. Except that he joined the NPA, so, uh, yay? Good job, Light you totally nailed it! Thank you for allowing us as an audience to delve deeper into your inner thoughts and feelings as a character so we can find out more about you as a person! Very helpful! Thank you for not sabotaging one of your few dedicated opportunities to look into yourself as a person and reflect on your relationships with others and being 100% honest with yourself! We stay winning guys.

Anyway, this got way too long for a scene that's over a decade old, and I've probably just said everything that everyone else has already said in this fandom before. But unfortunately this has been living in my head for way too long and I must scream. I just think this episode's neat is all :)

tl;dr Part of the reason why the rain/foot scene (tbh episode 25 in General) stands out so much is because the Death Note anime specifically was a bit robbed in terms of its more emotional character moments compared to the other medias, which makes more somber/introspective scenes like the ones in episode 25 stand out a Lot in comparison. But it's also incredibly ironic because it's one of the few moments where the show (or specifically L) tries to look deeper into Light's character, but because he is so avoidant for the entire duration of these two scenes he adds basically nothing at all. It's almost funny. Mostly sad. It's also very gay. Aand post

Okay actually nevermind one more thing I talked about how the jdrama is supposed to be more emotionally in-depth because it is a TV Drama and just for the record, same thing happens there! I could probably do an entire analysis of the Blue Scene in this context like I did with episode 25 but I'd literally be here forever, so uh, just take this iconic line as my main example:

Same Thing. L's statement "I wish we could have met some other way" is personal. It's his own wish, his own regret that he is expressing to Light. While Light's reply obviously has that same regret implied it's also phrased in a specifically impersonal way. It's closed off. "This is the only way we could have met" it closes off the topic and simply renders L's wish as ultimately futile. Light does not say that he Also wishes he could have met L a different way even if it was likely impossible, instead it's a cold statement of cynical fact.

Idk just. Something something L being able and Willing to be more openly sentimental/emotionally open towards Light/about Light vs. Light's inability to be honest with anyone including himself and his own nature preventing any form of meaningful reciprocation. Something something self-sabotage, y'know the drill. God don't even get me Started on how sincere L's tone is when he says "It'll be lonely won't it?"(at least in the eng dub) in the anime I could talk about his tone in that scene for ages. Also yes all of this relates to L Change the WorLd too by the way. Don't ask how it just does okay.

I do think that scenes like these (rain/foot scene, The Blue Scene. Uh. L Change the WorLd The Novel Adaptation) show, at least in those adaptations, that L does genuinely care for Light, and show that he values him as a friend not just in the mindgame-equal sense but also just like, a more sincere sense you know. Idk if that made any sense and that's a whole other topic for another day but you guys just have to believe me on this one alright please please believe me buries head in hands. Okay post over finally thanks for coming to my tedtalk hope you enjoyed my very-unnecessarily long analysis of the week

#death note #dn #light yagami #l lawliet #lawlight #death note anime #coda analyzes stuff #sorry this is all very scattered and probably doesn't make sense i wrote this on a whim one day and then the post had a mind of its own #this was originally gonna be shorter but then light yagami (derogatory) happened #it was so difficult to avoid going on 27450438 different tangents i love this series btw #you know my post about LCtW parallels with Light post L's death. yeah pretend i copy pasted that whole analysis here too #it also applies and is very relevant #death note multiverse my beloved i will love you forever #i just ran this through a word counter 1K+ word rant about these scenes. in 2024. God i'm Cooked #^ LMAOOOOOOOO (laughs in ~2.5K wordcount weeks later at the time of finally finishing writing this) god I Hate it here #also sorry i havent been posting a lot of art lately i'm busy and i've decided to save up all my Art Energy for lawlight week #so i've just been finishing off and posting analysis that have been floating in my drafts.lawlight stp au parallels/notes are probably next #sorry not sorry </3

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