#and DOUBLE thanks for the fact we’re now aiming to get me my own place by the end of this spring. cause my dad knows how miserable i am rn

[relicsongmel]

[shihalyfie]

Regarding Konaka’s influence on Tamers (or how much he actually didn’t have)

(Rest assured that if you’ve had a conversation with me recently about this issue, I’m not vaguing you; this conversation has come up a lot in the last few weeks, especially in my private chats, so this is just me deciding that I should write something about this for once since it’s been weighing on my head lately.)

I think, right now, with what happened regarding the DigiFes debacle, a lot of people are having complicated feelings about how to feel about Tamers, and this is completely understandable. I think there are also some things that may be inevitably unavoidable, such as starting to second-guess certain nuances in the series and what they might lead to. All of that is perfectly reasonable, and in the end, it’s going to be up to everyone to decide how they feel.

In light of this, a lot of people have been bringing up the fact that, while Konaka was the head writer, he was by no means the only person working on it. This is very much true, but I’d like to add something else to the equation: this is an issue that goes much deeper than the usual claiming death of the author for the sake of sanity. The full picture is that Konaka has always had much less influence on the series than the fanbase tends to attribute to him. Official statements have been very clear as to not attribute the entire series to him, and, among all the other controversial statements he’s made, Konaka himself has at least been very active about crediting the other staff members as far as their influence on the series! The idea that he was the only person who ever did anything substantial for Tamers is something I’ve been warning against since long before any of this happened (if you want proof, I have a post from April with this sentiment in it), and right now we just happen to be seeing what’s basically the worst possible outcome of the fanbase constantly worshipping him like the only real creative heart behind the series to borderline cult-like levels...when that’s never been true, and has resulted in unfairly taking credit away from people who deserved it.

I’ll go into detail below, and I hope this can help people understand the situation better and sort out how they feel about it.

Note that I make references to his infamous blog in this post, which I’m deliberately refraining from directly linking for obvious reasons, but all of the information is still there, so it should be verifiable if you decide to look for it yourself.

Personally, I’ve always found it really bizarre how there’s been this obsession with portraying Konaka as some kind of auteur whom the entirety of Tamers depended on. I’m not saying this out of spite towards him, because, again, even he himself was very insistent on disclaiming credit for things he wasn’t actually responsible for (he was quite humble in this respect, actually). Not to mention that I think it’s a mistake in general to constantly pin a single person in a multi-person production as the sole heart behind it, and the Digimon fanbase has historically had this strange double standard behind it when it comes to uplifting him as the only heart behind Tamers when nobody says that about any of the head writers for...anything else. (How many times has Nishizono’s name ever popped up when talking about Adventure? People are usually more obsessed with talking about Kakudou or Seki.) Konaka’s work is certainly distinctive, but Tamers had a lot more going on besides just that.

In fact, based on his own statements on the matter and all of the other official information we’ve gotten about Tamers production, while you can’t really quantify such things, it’s generally been estimated that Konaka was responsible for something like only a fourth of the series. Which is an incredibly low amount compared to what the fanbase would have told you before all of this happened, because of this fixation that he must be the genius mastermind behind the whole series. Not only that, this “brilliant auteur” image of him was so inflated that people were attributing way more of 02 to him than he deserved; 02 episode 13 was the only thing he contributed to the series and he was specifically brought on as a “guest writer”, and the overall plot of the episode was determined by the rest of the production staff and not him -- but ask the fanbase and they’ll tell you stories about how he invented some grand planned arc for 02 that got cancelled, or even that Tamers exists because of a “writer revolt” from him and other writers not being allowed to do what they wanted. (You know, as much as I understand 02′s a controversial series, it would be really nice if people didn’t make up completely baseless stories like this just to scapegoat it...)

I honestly cannot emphasize enough how much of the problem we’re in right now has been horribly enabled by the weird pedestal the fanbase has been putting him on. This is to the point where there’s even been a double standard where some of the more unpopular/criticized elements of Tamers must not have been the fault of a brilliant writer like him, and in fact was forced on him by the executives (this excuse had always been brought up anytime someone doesn’t like something about Tamers, just to make sure the image of him as a perfect writer was maintained). Turns out, as per his own admission on the infamous blog, while he wasn’t the one who initially had the idea of putting Ryou in, the part that rubbed the fanbase the wrong way -- that he came in as an accomplished senior who was better than everyone and played up by everyone in the cast -- was unabashedly his idea (he apparently was enamored with the idea of having someone like Tuttle from the movie Brazil). Again, this is a weird scenario where even Konaka himself has been more humble about this issue than the fanbase’s perception of him; he fully admitted whenever he had trouble writing certain parts. For instance, he doesn’t actually like writing about alternate worlds, felt they were out of his comfort zone, and only wrote in the Digital World because the franchise needs one; he’d stated that if he’d had his way, the Digital World arc wouldn’t have come in as early as it did, which might be a pretty shocking statement for a Digimon fan to hear.

If you want even more specifics, here are some extremely major parts of the series that Konaka was not actually the one behind:

The character backgrounds. Konaka stated on his blog that he wasn’t interested in going too much into character backstories because he felt it was too plot-limiting to say that a character is the way they are thanks to something in their past or background (basically, he cares more about plot than character for the most part), and that he’s also not into worldbuilding. Certain things like Ruki going to a girls’ school were supplied by Seki, who infamously loves worldbuilding, family backgrounds, and character settings.

Certain nuances of Ruki’s character, especially the part where she’s pigeonholed into uncomfortable places due to being a girl, were informed by Yoshimura Genki, writer from Adventure and one of the head writers of 02 (who eventually would go on to create an entire career out of feminist cinema).

According to the posts on his blog, Impmon’s character arc didn’t have much input from Konaka himself and was largely written in by Maekawa Atsushi (also a writer from Adventure and one of the head writers of 02).

The whole concept of Yamaki being redeemable in the first place was something Konaka didn’t originally plan for; he’d initially intended to make him a straightforward antagonist, but, of all things, his Christmas song, combined with the input of the other writers (especially Maekawa) humanizing him, led to the development where Yamaki eventually changed sides and became sympathetic. (This makes Konaka’s recent stunt revolving around Yamaki a bit painfully ironic.)

The director, Kaizawa Yukio, was deliberately picked because he didn’t have experience on the prior series, for the sake of changing things up, and he spent Tamers as a period of studying what Digimon should be like. Based on what he’s hinted, it seems Konaka's writing style and choices were able to have as much influence as they did because Kaizawa approved of them -- that is to say, Konaka’s detailed imagery and descriptions were extensive enough that Kaizawa could go “sure, let’s go with that.” But in the end, nothing Konaka did would have gone through unless Kaizawa and Seki (among many others) didn’t also approve of it or provide input. Moreover, Kakudou Hiroyuki (director of Adventure and 02) has also been stated many times to have been a valuable consultant on invoking Digimon so that the new staff could understand what to aim for and how to get the right feel (and also assisted with providing stuff for the mythos, such as the Devas). Nevertheless, Kaizawa also seems to have had his own strong opinions and input on the story; he especially seems to get passionate when it comes to the topic of making the story something the kids watching it could relate to and imagine. (He would eventually go on to direct Frontier and Hunters, along with several episodes of the Adventure: reboot.)

So in other words, looking at this, a lot of these things that people emotionally connected to and loved about Tamers are things that literally were not his personal creation, and were largely contributed by the other writers! Of course, Konaka’s “creator thumbprint” is very obvious -- he was the head writer, after all -- and all of this had to go through his own vetting to make sure he personally liked it as well -- but nevertheless, you can see that this very much was a collaborative effort from head to toe, with him being very open about this fact himself. Insisting on making sure that this fact is well-known isn’t just a coping mechanism to try and remove his presence in the series, but rather a desire to get people to seriously stop giving him credit that really should be going to others (especially since, again, even he himself was very diligent about assigning that credit).

In the end, I’ll leave you with another thing to keep in mind: Konaka doesn’t get paid anymore for Tamers work (unless they make something new like the DigiFes thing), so continuing to buy Tamers merch and supporting the series through fanart and such will probably end up going more towards the Digimon IP as a whole. Basically, if we’re just talking about Tamers specifically, what degree this is going to matter is only really relevant to the content in the original series, which is now twenty years old and remains unchanged. By Konaka’s own admission, he wasn’t into all of these conspiracy theories until 2010 at the earliest, so while it’s understandable to be a bit wary about the themes in Tamers having traces of the base sentiment, the original series itself does not seem to be an outlet for alt-right propaganda, and it’s probably forcing it a bit much to read into it that way. Konaka’s also repeatedly insisted that all of his attempts at a Tamers sequel have been rejected and that he’s been doing increasingly strange swerves to get around members of the original cast not entirely being available, and the Japanese audience has turned out to not be very fond of the contents of the 2018 drama CD and the stage reading for reasons entirely separate from the politics, so it’s also unlikely we’ll be getting a Tamers sequel from him or something in the near future.

So -- at least for the time being -- what’s done with him is done, and the remaining question is how all of us feel about Tamers. I think everyone will have differing feelings on it, and that’s perfectly understandable. Personally, given everything I just said above, I’m going to continue treating it as a series very important to me, and one that many people (including, as it seems, a very different Konaka from twenty years ago) worked on with a lot of effort and love, although you may see me getting a bit more willing to be critical about the series and its themes thanks to my concerns about some of the sentiments in it and what they imply. I also completely understand that there are probably people whose associations are going to be much more hurt and who will have a much harder time seeing the series the same way ever again, and I think that’s reasonable as well. But at the very least, going forward, I hope all of us can understand the depth of this situation, give credit where it’s due, and not force credit where it’s not due.

[wpdarlingpan]

I have a suggestion! What about pan or jerome valeska kiddnaping the reader/oc? Ik its pretty basic, but maybe pan kidnapps her to obress Emma and Jerome kiddnapps her because he is fond of her appearance yk? Maybe a little bit yandere style.

Thank u I hope you like my suggestions!

Thanks for my first suggestion! I hope it’s good :)

Please let me know if there is something I should fix for later suggestions. Be it my writing style, or if you’d prefer me to make an OC for the story.

Also TW with just a mention of how Greenwood is charged with Rape and Murder. It’s only the mention and will not be brought up further.

Now on with the story.

Background information: Y/N is the daughter of Jim Gordon and Barbara. She isn’t associated with Barbra since she went slightly crazy. She considers Lee like her mom. Her dad is very over protective since he’s seen the dark side of Gotham. She is 18 years old and somewhat shy/innocent from being protected by her dad.

“Bye dad! Love you!” Y/N yelled out as she approached the front door of their apartment. She was hoping to leave before her dad could give her the talk she always got before leaving the house but luck wasn’t on her side. She also felt the teeniest bit of guilt for rushing out so quickly as she and her dad had a good relationship and she knew he was just trying to protect her.

“Wait.” He spoke coming down the hallway into the room. He knew she didn’t like the fact she had to go over rules before she left the house but he’d been even more nervous since there was a breakout at Arkham.

“Yes?” Y/N questioned.

“Got your phone?”

“Yep.”

“Charged?”

“100%.”

“House key?”

“Definitely.”

“Emergency money?”

“Right in my pocket.”

“Pepper spray?”

“Yep and with the safety on so I don’t accidentally spray myself... again.” She spoke while looking down sheepishly.

“All right love you kiddo. Remember what I said about those people who broke out yesterday.”

Jim spoke while lightly kissing the side of her head and let her go to school.

“I remember. Also love you Always and forever dad. Don’t forget you have a date with Lee later!” Y/N reminded before closing the door to make her way to the Gotham High school. Her dad had bought her a car so she would be more safe getting to and from school as he didn’t trust city busses or taxis. She didn’t mind though it was nice and she was able to play some music while she drove.

Once she arrived at the school she saw the cheerleaders loading onto the bus. She was a photographer for the yearbook and it was one of their first football games for the year so they send her to photograph for the team. She was way to shy to actually try out for it. Once double checking if her car was locked she put the keys in her pocket and made her way to the bus with her camera looped around her neck.

She got on first as the rest of the cheerleads were talking outside the bus with the coach. Y/N sat in the very back with her feet up next to her as a sign of ‘do not sit by me’ she was rather short so it was comfortable as well. She then pulled out her phone and began to text her dad that she was safely on the bus. He replied with a quick ‘ok’ and ‘be safe’ then she started to play a game on her phone as the cheerleaders began to load onto the bus. Once everyone was on the bus they drove away from the school at the cheerleaders were practice their cheers. The. Whole. Ride. It was beginning to get on her nerves as she preferred the peace and quiet but she knew that being on a bus with cheerleaders would be anything but. She grabbed one side of her headphones and began to play music. She lightly tapped her fingers to it and looked out the window.

They drove for about 20 more mins before they were stopped. A red truck had pulled in front of them and people approached the truck. She spotted guns in their hands. She quickly dialed her dads phone and begged for him to pick up.

“Y/N? What is it?” He could tell by her erratic breathing that something was wrong.

“There are people with guns on the bus! They just shot the driver. We are on (random Gotham street) please hurry!”

“I’m on my way! Try and stay on the line.” She said a quiet okay she a boy with red hair entered the bus. Jim quickly ordered police officers to make their way towards the scene.

“I want you all to know... this was a very difficult decision for us.” The boy spoke as he waved around his guns as if it was a toy. Y/N had already ducked down in her seat after a different person had handcuffed them to the seats. She wanted to stay out of of the seemingly ringleaders point of view as she watching her phone continue to hold the call with her dad and her headphone was in on low in order for him not to hear the phone. She still listened from her other ear to be aware.

“It was between you and a senior citizen bingo party.

In the end, we decided to skew a little younger.” He spoke while putting the gun to one of the girls heads. He walked towards the back of the bus as he continued his speech. She heard him coming and quickly tucked her phone into her pocket along with the headphones.

“Youth won the day. Sorry.”

He had reached the back to the bus and was about to turn around when he saw her tucked into the seat. She was very small and if he didn’t know this was a high school bus he would have thought she was a kid. She looked up at him with terrified doe eyes and he looked at her with a smile. He liked her. The innocence in her eyes that made him swoon. She clearly wasn’t like his whore of a mother. She would make a good partner.

“And who might you be.” He spoke while he used his charm. He lifted her chin up lightly with his unoccupied hand as the gun still rested in the other. She scooted as far away as she could with the handcuffs keeping her in place.

“Y-Y/N.” She stuttered out in fear. She was trying to hide not stand out. He moved her hand away from the start of the handcuffs and brought up his gun to which she began squirming at as it was raised.

“Shh, just going to get these off.” He attempted to comfort but it was honestly more frighting what was he going to do.

He shot the handcuffs and the bullet got lodged into the seat as she was detached from the seat but still had the cuffs around her wrist.

“You’ll be coming with me Doll.” He spoke while tugging her up from the seat as the cheerleaders continued to cry at the situation.

“No!” She attempted to struggle but she was too small to get away. But he held onto her. He tugged her out of the bus before giving her to Aaron. Since he didn’t trust Greenwood with his girl. Not like he trusted Aaron any more but he wasn’t charged for rape.

Aaron obeyed and tightly held her as Jerome put back on his crazy face and went back onto the bus.

“Give me an "O"!” He shouted to make fun of them.

“I said, give me a "O".” He shot the roof of the bus making the cry harder.

“O!” The cried out through their tears.

“ Give me an "N".” He spoke again with enthusiasm

“N!”

“Give me another "O"!”

“O!”

“What does that spell?” He questioned while greenwood handed him a hose that would spray gasoline out from the truck they had stolen.

"Oh, no!"

He walked up and down the isles of the bus and sprayed each and everyone one of them with gasoline while they all screamed in fear.

He finished and walked out of the bus and grabbed a lighter from his pocket.

“Ready? Okay!” Jerome said as he attempted to make the lighter work. The flame wouldn’t appear and Y/N continued to struggle in Aaron’s arms but for the man it was nothing. Dobkins was bouncing in his place with anticipation.

But it never lit.

“This is so embarrassing.” Jerome spoke harshly. He was making a fool out of himself in front of his girl.

“Anyone got a light?” He requested from the group of cheerleaders. Y/N was questioning if he really expected them to give him one since he was trying to kill them. He walked off after they all cried out a ‘No’ and winked at Y/N as she looked at him making her glance away hoping for her dad to hurry.

“I do. I got...” Dobkins replied while reaching into his own pocket to grab a lighter.

As Dobkins went to hand Jerome the lighter sirens sounded and police pulled onto the scene. She began struggling more as Aaron held her with one hand and shot with the other with little to no aim.

She saw as her dad got out of the car and quickly held up his gun. His heart stopped as he saw his daughter in the hands of one of the Maniax.

“Stand your ground, boys. They can't shoot at a bus.” Jerome smugly told the crew. He glanced at his doll to see her struggling still while eyeing one of the officers.

“Hold your fire! Hold your fire!” Jim quickly yelled in fear one something hitting his daughter or the bus.

“Dad!” She yelled out as she attempted to kick Aaron but did little to no damage.

Jeromes eyes widened with surprise. Jim Gordon had a daughter? This would be two birds with one stone. He smirked as Jim looked panicked.

“Aaron, Greenwood, get the truck started. And pass me my girl.” Jerome demanded. Y/N was shoved towards Jerome who caught her with a arm wrapped around her waist. He spotted her phone in her pocket and tossed it onto the pavement so they couldn’t be tracked nor could she call.

The officers had ducked behind their cars as Jerome shot at them.

“We're gonna blow this barbecue stand, huh Doll?” He told her as he tugged her towards the truck as her dad tried to follow before he was shot at again.

Greenwood sat on the outside holding onto the bus with the hose.

“Light 'em up!” Jerome spoke as he turned around and made a round motion with his arm to Dobkins who struggled with a lighter as well.

Jerome laughed manically as he got into the truck with her on his lap to which she blushed making him smirk and they began to drive off leaving Dobkins with the police.

Soon they were out of view and Jim quickly drove the bus away from the flames that had fought when the lighter was dropped. He needed to get his daughter back.

Y/N had a blind fold put on her as they left the scene to head back to Galivants building. Once they arrived Jerome picked her up bridal style and carried her into the building. He was stopped by the man himself as he headed to his room.

“And whose this?” He questioned quite poshly. She couldn’t recognize the voice but it seemed familiar.

“My girl.” He replied looking Galivant in the eye with a murderous look, daring him to say she couldn’t stay.

“Fine. But she stays in your room. Wouldn’t suggest having her out here with Greenwood.” He spoke before walking away to his office. Jerome laughed at even the thought of letting Greenwood anywhere near her. He brought her into his room and sat her on the bed. He quickly locked the door with a key to which he placed in his pocket before removing the blindfold.

Y/N blinked to adjust to the light and when she did she quickly scrambled back on the bed, away from the boy in front of her.

“Oh Y/N your never getting away from me. Not now, not ever.” He spoke before laughing crazily making her whimper and her eyes water. She curled up in a ball in an attempt to shield herself away from the boy.

“Well Doll, welcome to your new home. By the way, the names Jerome. Jerome Valeska.”

Y/N began to shake, her dad had told her about his interview. She should have for the hint from the fact of his unsettling laughter.

She was utterly screwed.

Let me know if you’d like a quick part 2

Also, please suggest things to write 😁

[headoverhiddles]

The Romance Of A Yellow Rose - Dr. King Schultz x Reader [Smut]

Words: 5.6k

Synopsis: You and King get married, and celebrate your first night together by consummating the marriage. 

Commissioned by a friend! Enjoy.

Your eyes open on the rugged planes of the Southern state the three of you had found yourselves in. As you roll over to stretch the sleep out of your body, you find a single yellow rose, native to this area. A smile grows on your face. It’s King’s way of saying good morning to you, as it had been for many months.

For years now, you had been tagging along with Schultz and Django. Having attached yourself to their travels three hot summers ago, the two men had become quite fond of your travelling company; King in particular. Over time, your relationship had evolved from a companionship, through friendship, to having romantic feelings for one another. You were the first to admit to them; King hadn’t wanted to say anything, as he still held a fruitless hope that one day he could return you to the pleasantries of the normal life you once knew, before it had been uprooted. But as the months passed, you getting more and more comfortable and (dare he say) suited to the lifestyle of a bounty hunter, it was becoming apparent that you were going nowhere. Not without him, anyway.

Hildy had decided to stay with some friends in the North while the three of you travelled the country on business. Texas Jack, Turkey Creek and Jack’s wife Camarilla were more than happy to keep her with them. It had put Django at ease at least, knowing they had one less person they had to worry about with them catching a bullet. Hildy was even teaching Camarilla different things she had learned over the years at their home, and the four were getting on fine from what Django took from her letters to him. King wished you had enough sense to stay with them, but where the older bounty hunter went, you went. You had made that quite clear.

Today, a warm day in mid October, you, King and Django were headed to visit a plantation in Conroe, Texas. There an outlaw by the name of Amos “Sly Eye” Little had been posing as an overseer for 3 months, flying under the radar on the small eastern Texan plantation. He wasn’t a particularly dangerous outlaw, only wanted for his habit of skipping out on poker games before paying up. Three months ago, he ended up double crossing the wrong man which led to legal involvement, and now to deter trouble in peaceful towns he was wanted dead or alive by the state. King and Django had discovered upon visiting this plantation that the family who owned it had been dodging the law for a while as well.

After the slaves had been freed by King and Django, this outlaw family just so happened to get in the way of a few bullets. The last man left alive on the property is now Amos.

“Back here!” you call. King dashes toward you, swiping you out of the way as a bullet whizzes by your ear. You sit in shock for a moment, King’s arm still around you. For a man who isn’t very dangerous, this Amos sure is trigger happy.

“Django!” King shouts, but his partner is already far ahead in pursuit. “Never listens,” the doctor mutters, loading his shotgun and aiming. You watch as Django dodges a couple more of the outlaw’s bullets before grabbing Amos by his collar, lifting him up a few feet. The man tries to scramble for his gun, but Django of course is faster. Just as he’s about to fire at close range, King clucks his tongue, looking through his target. “Bullseye.” Your eyes shut briefly as the snap of the bullet leaving the gun jolts you closer to the older man. He pulls you out of sight once more as the bullet hits Amos through the side of his head, out the other side in a bloody deluge. Django jerks his head up your direction, dropping the corpse into the carnage at his feet.

“I was handling it!” he mutters.

King comes out from behind the tree, helping you up with one hand. You brush off your pants as you both approach the other man. “You were being hasty again,” King says.

“I was handling it,” Django insists with a look. You two nudge arms amiably, and King gives you a disapproving look.

“You are encouraging him.” He turns to Django. “And you’re encouraging her.”

“What’s wrong with a little congratulations?” you giggle. “You got your dead cowboy.”

“I would trade a thousand dead cowboys to keep both of you alive. You’re the best things that have ever happened to me, do you know that?” King gives you a meaningful look, before brushing off Django’s jacket and squeezing your hand. “Forget this place. We’d better get the horses and get out of here.”

Taking the initiative, you go off in search of Tony, Fritz and Ida, your mare. Django approaches King, taking off his bloodstained gloves. “You talked to her yet?”

“She doesn’t know, no.” King looks down, nervously stroking one side of his moustache. “I was waiting for the right time.”

“You wait any longer, she’s gonna be burying her husband to be.” King doesn’t bother taking offense—he knows Django is right. He’s much older than you—not one foot in the grave as Django likes to tease, but older. That had been another source of insecurity for him during the burgeoning relationship, but you had made it clear that you didn’t mind; in fact, you liked the difference in age. King’s fellow bounty hunter interrupts his thoughts. “Y’all should get married here. Nice place, no one left in it now.” Schultz looks around the grounds. It is pretty, and it would be nice to marry you in such agreeable weather... but King shakes his head.

“No Django. This place was built on treachery and suffering. It would be not only tasteless, but bad luck to get married here.”

When you three make it to the next town in the state over of Arkansas, something is waiting for King at the inn.

“You Doctor Schultz?” the innkeeper asks, spitting tobacco into a spittoon. King nods, taking out his billfold. The innkeeper sizes him up. “Yep, man who sent this said fella looking like you’d be coming through here. This’s for you.” He takes a letter out from behind the desk in one of the cubbies, and slides it across. King expects it would be from Texas Jack, but it instead it’s from a different friend in the North; a sheriff acquaintance he had written to before about his situation with you. Thanking the man, you all head upstairs, and when King gets to a desk, he slips on his reading glasses.  

 Thought you’d make your way through this here town, Schultz-

Sounds like a hell of a woman, the one you’ve told me about. You softie. Knew you wanted to settle down, and it’s about damn time, too. What the hell are you doing with her down in the South then? She oughtta be up here. Maybe I’m biased, but there’s a lot more law n order up here. Better people too. I am biased, spose.

You asked me what I thought about asking for her hand. Why wait to marry her? Hell, bring her up, we’ll have a ceremony here! I’m not only a sheriff, but an ordained minister too. Bet you didn’t know that. Wouldn’t kill you to ask. Anyway, no reason why I can’t make things look good, clean up the place nice and host your happy union. Got some more birthday cake here too, for someone to eat. Pretty good.

Come on up when you finally convince yourself she won’t say no.

- G. A.

“You got a letter back from Sheriff Snowy Snow?” Django smirks. King stares at the letter in his hands for a long while, before looking up at him with a smile.

He could do it. He could finally ask for your hand.

“Django, my boy. We’re going to Nebraska.” You overhear, and turn back with the bags.

“Up North? What for?”

“To see an old friend of mine, fraulein,” King says, taking the bags from you to carry inside. “Sheriff Gus Arnett.” You smile. It’ll be nice to get out of all this heat and around some likeminded people—people who King can relax and be himself around.

You had all stopped off to pick up Hildy in Boston after travelling by train through the Southern states and switching back to horsepower as you made your way up through the wintery landscape of barren northern land. It was worth it, of course; King and Django had insisted Hildy come too, and you had been happy for female company.

“Has my troublemaker been behaving himself?” is the first thing Hildy asks you, kissing your cheek in greeting.

“About as much as mine has,” you laugh.

“Coming from the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met. It is you who has been the naughty one,” King chastises you right back.

“Maybe one day, you can teach me a lesson for it.” King blushes as Hildy lets out a loud laugh at the connotations of such a taunt. He knows you’re still virginal, waiting for marriage as you’ve told him before. Once united by matrimony, that’s another wall that could be knocked down between you, if you decided you still wished to give yourself to him.

It was no secret you wanted King, and he had made it plain he would wait for you—he’s a gentleman in every sense of the word. Still, men have needs, and some late nights it had been hard. Many evenings by the fire had ended with you in his lap, grinding down as you kissed him with feverish intensity. It had always ended the same way however, with you heading off to sleep alone and leaving him with nothing but his mind to picture what the next hour may have felt like. This time, King feared he wouldn’t last once he finally got to feel you as he’d wanted to for so long. Either way, he had a silver tongue, and experience in the art of pleasuring a woman. He wouldn’t leave you wanting; whatever you needed he would give you.

 Arriving at the snowy lodge some days later, Sheriff Gus Arnett comes out the front door. A couple of minks and rabbits are hanging from the roof over the porch, and two pairs of boots caked with snow are drying outside by a wooden rocking chair that had been collecting frost no doubt since September.  

“King Schultz and Django Freeman, in the flesh! Come on in with your little ladies!” he says, opening his arms. You approach first, and he shakes your hand with the assurance of a man who’s not used to gentle handshakes. “I don’t believe we’ve met, ma’am,” he says softly, “But any friend of King’s is a friend of mine. Especially a friend like you.” He winks at you and smirks over at King, who ushers you in out of the cold quickly. Gus tips his hat at Django and Hildy, closing the door after they come in.

“Like I said,” he sighs, “We got some cake. Y’all want some?”

“Perhaps we wait until after dinner?” Schultz proposes.

“I wouldn’t mind some,” Django speaks up, giving King a look. King just chuckles.

“Go ahead, my boy. I was a dentist, remember. Old habits remain, I suppose. Would you like some, (y/n)?”

“I’ll have the piece you didn’t want,” you tease. You lean closer to him to brush your lips against his ear. “When it comes to you, I want everything.” The former dentist swallows. This proposal couldn’t come at a better time, as things between you two are heating up.

That night after dinner of rabbit stew and some leftover cake for dessert for everyone but your beloved, everyone had retired to bed a few hours after the sun had gone down. In your own room, you set your satchel on the bed of clothing you had been travelling with in the South, and just as you’re about to unpack, a knock at the door distracts you from your task. King slowly pushes the door open—he’s dressed in his white shirt and grey vest, his hair freshly combed back. It seems counterproductive to groom that well before bed, but to be fair, you had never personally witnessed King’s nocturnal habits in a place that allows such a luxury. He offers his arm, and when you take it in curiosity, he leads you out the back porch of the lodge home. The wind isn’t too cold tonight, but he still wraps his arm around you. The mountains are beautiful out here, and the snow has stopped for the night to allow for a crystal clear view of the surrounding landscape, snow white on the bottom and starry black on top.  

“It’s been a while since we’ve been able to sit together like this,” King says. “Just sit and enjoy one another’s company alone. It’s very rare we get time just the two of us without our faithful hero.” You lean into him, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Mm. We’re usually around a campfire, with Django snoring behind us.”

“At least we don’t have any of that to score our evening. I think Django’s gone to bed with Hildy in there.”

“You should be in bed too,” you fret. “I’ve noticed you haven’t been sleeping well.”

“I never have been very good at that. I’m a light sleeper, fraulein. Especially when I have lots on the mind.”

“You know what helps me when I can’t sleep?” You smile. “Something I learned from you.” King turns to look at you, a soft chilly breeze blowing the silver blonde hair from his eyes.

“What’s that?”

“A story.”

King ducks his head, and pulls you closer to him. “I think that would do the trick. Go on then, my love. Will you regale me?”

“I know a story of a deep running love, where a woman slowly developed feelings for one who she learned to depend on.”

“A common story, no?” King teases.

“Shhh. She loved very freely, but this was different. She not only loved this man, but worried about him when he wasn’t around, yearned for him, desired him in ways that drove her crazy sometimes.” King’s breath audibly quickens.

“And what did our heroine do about this tumultuous situation?”

“Oh, she took care of things. But not like she knew he could.” His breath hitches. You bite your lip as you go on. “The two had been together so long... learning one another’s quirks, laughing at little things and sharing moments others wouldn’t understand. They knew what scared them, what made them smile. At the end of the day, she told the man a million times how she adored him. But she was afraid he still didn’t know how much.”

King rubs down your finger, eyes trained on it before looking up at you. “I think I do.” You forget whatever you were going to say next as King rubs his rough fingers over your knuckles, bringing them up to his lips to kiss them. His beard grazes your skin pleasantly as he opens his mouth. “Will you be my wife?” Your heart skips a beat.

“Truly?”

“True as my love for you.”  

“Tomorrow?”

“If you wish.” You lean in to kiss him.

The door bangs open, Gus tosses a pail of water out all over you two. He realizes where you two were sitting, and his eyes widen.

"Gott verdammt."

“Oh, hell. I’m— what are the two of you doing out—?” He can’t even finish his sentence—you’re laughing too hard. King tries to keep up a grumpy facade at the fact that you had both just been drenched in ice water in this weather, but he can’t help it. Your laughter is infectious.

“Please tell me there is enough boiled water for a bath,” he sighs, and you shiver. “For the fraulein, at least.”

Django and Hildy had been up to witness the commotion from the noise of it all, no doubt committing the sight to memory for future teasing. They returned comfortably to bed with one another, which was a comfort you and King couldn’t currently afford in your state.  

You get to work drawing the bath as Gus passes you each pails of hot water. King comes in, shedding his dripping fur coat and tugging at his tie. Your eyes drift down to his chest, then back up to his face. King subsequently tries to distract himself so as not to focus too hard on you. You had stripped down to your slip, which was stuck to every curve of your body from the water. The temperature hadn’t done much to help any other evidence of the cold, around your breasts. He tries not to look too long.

“Would you take me out of this?” you ask. It’s a harmless question, but King’s thoughts run wild. He could simply refuse you, but what reason would he give then? That he couldn’t control himself around you, so close to your wedding night?

“Of course,” he sighs softly, and approaches. He takes the back of the slip and undoes the buttons, helping you pull it over your head. He inches it up, the wet material dragging along your skin. He turns to go as you’re revealed, and to his dismay, you don’t stop him. Only one more night, and he could have all of you.

As you step out of the lodge, it’s as if you’ve stepped out into a painting. A light dusting of snow is falling over you, snowflakes catching in your eyelashes and melting tracks down your cheeks like tears of happiness. King is standing there at the end of the pathway shovelled out, just by the small lake. It’s frozen over, reflecting the light of the moon through every little icicle hanging from the branches of trees hanging over top of it. Mountains soar around the group of you, boasting the most beautiful landscape you’d ever seen.

King takes your hand as you approach. Beside him, you see Django dressed in a handsome green winter’s jacket, black leather gloves pristine. On your side, Broomhilda is wearing a beautiful green dress under layers of a form fitting brown jacket. You’re in a beautiful snow white dress with furs covering your shoulders and a fur hat. King is also wearing his grey fur coat. The two of you join hands, and recite vows.

“I know I’m a considerable number of years older than you,” King tells you softly, “But I promise to make up for this. I promise to protect you with my life, cherish you, and support you in every endeavor you wish to pursue.”

“I will stay by your side no matter what,” you tell him, “I’ll be brave when you can’t be. I’ll be strong when you need me to be. I’ll love you as long as my heart beats, and oppose anyone who tries to take you away.” Kindness in his eyes, King smiles down at you, crow’s feet crinkling. He lifts your hand up to kiss.

“Do you take this man?” the sheriff asks.

“I do.”

“Do you take this little lady?” King sighs out through his nose, thumbs rubbing over your knuckles.

“I certainly do,” he breathes.

“Well hell, you may kiss the bride then!”

When King leans forward, you surprise him by taking a step forward and wrapping your arms around him, deepening the kiss. It lasts for an eternity between you, and when you part, King brushes the snow off your rosy cheeks and presses his lips to your forehead.  

“Ich liebe dich,” he whispers into your hair, and you slide your arms around his middle in embrace.

Inside the bedroom upstairs, a fire crackles in the hearth. The curtains are open to the snowy view outside, and the frost on the glass only makes you savour the warmth inside. King pours you some bourbon, and comes to sit down beside you in front of the fire. As you cuddle into him, he puts a hand on your back and draws you in for a kiss, his beard pleasantly tickling your face. Bourbon forgotten, the kiss deepens, and you feel his tongue slip into your mouth as you part your lips for more. You pull away, smiling.

“Can I ask you something?”

He looks at you. “Of course. What are you thinking about?”

“How does it feel?”

King looks at you. “You will have to be a little more specific.”

“How does it feel to finally consummate a marriage?”

 He stares into the flickering fire. “We don’t have to do it if you’re nervous.”

“I didn’t say that,” you say, crawling over to straddle him. King welcomes you into his lap. “I just wanted to know. You’ll show me?”

“I would love to.”

“You know I’m inexperienced.”

“I do,” King nods.

“Isn’t that undesirable?” King seems offended that you would even suggest such a thing, at the very least ruffled by the idea of it.

“My dear, of course not. Being inexperienced merely means I can show you how to do things.” He hums against your neck, grazing his lips down.

“I’m not completely clueless,” you breathe as you tilt your head back to give him better access. You stand in one smooth movement in front of the fire, leaving King sitting and gazing up at you. “I know what fucking is.” You hear his exhaled breath.

“Yes. I would assume you wouldn’t be entirely in the dark about that.”

“But I’ve never felt it,” you whisper. “I wanna feel it, King.” He doesn’t get a chance to respond. You undo your dress, lace by lace, letting your fingers twine slowly between the hooks. You sigh his name as the corset comes free, recalling how you’d longed for him to do this last night, and you hook the straps of your dress under your thumbs, sliding it down to reveal the slip beneath. You hear his breath hitch, but he doesn’t make a move.

You run your hands down over your ass, letting out a soft noise. You hear him readjust where he’s sitting, and you work now on the cream coloured pants beneath the white gown, sliding them down ever so carefully.

“(y/n),” King whispers.

You let out a moan. “I’ve been wanting to get out of this the entire ceremony just to see how you would look at me, seeing me like this for the first time.” You swing your hips a little, arching your back, and finally wiggle some more as you drop your pants to the floor. King’s breathing is heavier now, and you stretch your arms above your head, sighing again as you let your hair free. “Like I said. I may not have done this before, but I know a lot more than you think I do.”

“I’m not certain I believe that, my feisty little one,” King huffs, averting eye contact. Oh, no. Not tonight he doesn’t. You’re only in your chemise now, and you turn to reveal smooth skin he’s never seen before, bunching the fabric up just enough to give him a peek of the v of your hips.

You can see the visible outline of his hardened cock in his pants, straining against the tight confines and desperate for some kind of relief. You put one leg over his lap to straddle him.

“Touch me?” you whisper, and reach down. He doesn’t stop you, just watches closely as you bring your hands to his pants, untie them, and reach in to take his cock in your hand. He does as you say, returning the touch with his hands up your back, taking the straps of your chemise down. He takes a shallow breath as your fingers come in contact with his warm cock. You grin wickedly, swiping your thumb up to spread his precum around a little. He meets your eyes as you pull him fully out of his pants.

“Oh,” he huffs gently, head falling back a little as you stroke him once.

“Is that good?” you ask softly, pressing a kiss to his ear. “Am I doing it right?” King stutters a little, gasping for air when you swipe over his swollen cockhead again.

“You are doing just fine,” King whispers, lips parting.

“Mmm,” you mumble, pressing a trail of wet kisses down his face and lazily taking his lips between your teeth, leading into a dizzying kiss full of tongue and one another’s slow breath.

“Stop. Wait my love,” King mumbles, stalling your wrist with his hand. You pout.

“What’s wrong?”

He opens his eyes to look at you, pupils blown with lust.  “After a show like that, I am at your complete and ready service, not the other way around. Tell me exactly what you want me to do,” he whispers gently, and you get off of him, lying back on the floor like a princess awaiting a treat.

“Could you pleasure me with your mouth?”

Your cheeks heat, but King nods with a smile, dispelling any nerves you might have for such an intimate display of sensuality. He lays you on the floor, pressing kisses down your neck, over your collarbone and across the top of the soft skin of your breasts. His hands come up to gently hold your hips down as they circle upward—he moves your legs so he can brace himself between them, pressing more kisses down over your stomach to the impressions on your hips he’s left with his fingers.

“I want you to have me,” you whisper. King strokes one hand along your thigh.

“It takes time to discover each and every spot that will make you weak for me, lieb,” he mumbles, mouthing at your panties with a practiced finesse. “Be a good girl now for me. Be patient. There is more to come.” The bounty hunter takes the panties down with deft fingers, sliding the fabric down your legs until you’re bare to him. Your cheeks heat, but he reassures you with a starstruck gaze, looking over your body like a lovesick man. He dips his head back down with a soft kiss to your thigh, reaching up to hold your hips as if he’s predicted your body’s reaction already. He presses a reverent kiss to your clit, and his tongue takes a sweep of your folds, making you quiver as his beard scratches the soft skin of your thighs. His prediction proves correct when your hips jerk up as he gives his first lick between your lips. You reach back to grab the carpet, before deciding instead to grip onto his blonde and silver locks where his mouth works between your legs. It’s a surreal pleasure—unlike anything you’ve felt before, and you want more.

 “Does that feel good?” King asks. All you can do is nod, but he encourages you to tell him exactly how you feel. “Use your words, fraulein.”

“Yes. Don’t stop,” you sigh.

“My good girl.” King dips back down, swirling his tongue around your bud until you’re shaking. Taking care to hold you close to him, he moves himself up until he’s grinding himself against you. “I want nothing more than to be inside of you,” he whispers.

“Take me as you wish then,” you groan.

“Tonight is about you,” he murmurs against your skin.

“I want it.”

Unbuckling himself, he takes his time slowly working a finger inside of you. He adds another and gently curves them up, before gauging your reaction. Going by the desperation in your face, he slowly replaces his fingers with his cock, pausing every inch to check and see if you’re still alright. You can tell how he’s exercising his restraint—you’re so tight, and all he wants to do is take you until both of you are sweaty and screaming, but he must make this last. You can feel him sliding into you, and his hand comes up to hold yours. Your eyes screw shut as he finally bottoms out, and he presses a kiss to your chest. “Tell me when it is okay to move.” You nod.

“Please.” He starts up a slow pace, covering your body with his as he takes his time with you. Too desperate to take the time King might have in mind to teach you patience, you push your lips harder against him, and roll over on top of him. You kiss the bounty hunter, again and again until your lips are swollen and King is painfully hard inside of you.

“Lift up your shirt for me,” he whispers, his voice gentle. “That’s it.”

“Have me,” you mumble.

“What was that?” King asks, “You must use your words if you would like something, hm?”

You blink up at your older lover. “Please take me King,” you raise your voice, and he smiles.

“Hm.” He gives you an affectionate smile. “I have no choice but to oblige my lady love when she asks as nicely as that. Very well. As you wish.”

He pumps in harder, ripping a groan from you. You’d dreamed of what this would feel like, and it turned out better than you had imagined, King’s soft sighs and the rocking of his body against yours heightening every touch he grazes your sensitive skin with.

A moment later, he pulls out and flips you over gently. He then positions himself between your legs and brings his mouth back down between your legs, suckling around your clit again. “King,” you whisper, breath hitching.

“Louder,” he encourages, and goes back to masterfully taking you apart with his tongue. He soon encourages you to sit on his face, and you do, feeling him lick you perfectly as the pleasant feeling of his beard returns to tantalize your skin. He circles your clit with the tip of his tongue as you reach down to touch his cock. It’s a foreign feeling in your hand, but you soon get the hang of the motions, twisting your fist and using his precum to slick your strokes.

“King... don’t stop,” you groan, his tongue delving just barely inside of you. He moves off of your pussy as you moan, and licks his lips.

 “I must admit, I wanted nothing more than to do this all day,” he groans as he moves back up your body, “But I am a gentleman.”

“Too much of one sometimes.”

As if in challenge, he picks up his pace and starts to grunt your name, leaning down every now and then between thrusts to press a kiss to your breastbone as his face scrunches up. You love how uncharacteristically possessive King is getting– it turns you on beyond belief. Your moans grow loud as the bounty hunter’s cock fills you over and over again, satisfying your need for him as your noises blend together into the creak, groan, gasp of making love for the first time.

“K… King…” you groan, breasts bouncing with every thrust. His breath is hot on your neck, and he presses an open mouthed kiss there.

“You are astonishing,” he whispers, “You’re perfect… oh, bitte, bitte Fraulein, you feel so nice… you are my everything.”

“King, just like that, oh god–” you groan, and he makes a noise at your slutty display, reaching up to massage your breasts. You feel your orgasm approach as he continues to touch you, and his hand quickly comes down to rub your clit.

“Ah,” you moan, and clutch his shoulders. King sighs, feeling your pussy squeeze him, and with a stuttered thrust he cums as well, spilling inside you. Soon, you’re crying out his name, and he squeezes your hand tighter as you both finish at the same time, the love you share burning at the height of its passion as your bodies become one. You both rock together to ride out your orgasms until you’re satisfied. Panting breaths mingle as you snuggle close to him.

 “Is that what all the fuss was about?” you tease. King frowns at you, and you laugh into his chest.

“Into bed before I take full offense to your jokes, beloved,” he murmurs. You nod, smiling as he helps you up with one hand and carries you bridal style over to the bed covered in furs for a warm night’s sleep together—finally together. 

"I am lucky I have such a pretty creature warming my bed tonight," he jokes, "A plucked chicken like me should be very grateful." You huff another laugh, rolling over beside him to finally tuck in with your love. 

"I've only ever wanted you. That'll never change, no matter what." You grin. "Tonight only helped solidify that fact." 

"So you are with me for my talents in the bedroom, ah!"

"NO--"

"I understand it now." 

"King!" 

"Shh. Let's sleep now. We will argue like an old married couple in the morning." 

The next day, Hildy and Django are already in the living room of the lodge. Gus is in the kitchen making up some breakfast.

“You look radiant this morning,” Broomhilda says, smile wide.

“Yeah. You do look pretty good. Different,” Django nods, narrowing his eyes as if to try and decipher what could have changed about you. Hildy just rolls her eyes, turning back to you from her own husband.

“So. Where’s your significant other?” You grab yourself a cup for the coffee that’s brewing, settling in across from them at the table.   

“He’s still sleeping. He worked hard last night.” Tucked in the pocket of your nightgown is a single perfect, yellow rose he had saved you from the South, one King had left his new wife to find upon waking.

[hanseoxsimp]

Gummy Bears - Jang Hanseok x Hanseo

One-shot, requested by @swaggy-tea and @taewithalottlesuga, an au where someone isn’t a psycho

A/N: bolded words are words Hanseok says in English; hope you enjoy reading!

Hanseo doesn’t really enjoy video games. Or board games. Or any sort of game really.

He views it as unnecessary stress, tasks and missions that weren’t worth the small amount of satisfaction one receives in the end. On the other hand however, is Jang Hanseok. That young man- looks will deceive- is purely childish at heart.

Hanseok carries a pack of Haribos everywhere he goes, has Candy Crush downloaded on his phone and a penguin plushie resting in the corner of his office. His personality is so loud, so vibrant, so... annoying.

When Jang Hanseok was announced the new Chairman of Babel, Hanseo did not hesitate one millisecond to pass the position over to him.

If Hanseo didn’t enjoy video games, he most definitely did not enjoy being like a pawn amongst the wealthy elites of the country. Constantly feeling like an NPC to his own body, he might as well kiss Hanseok out of gratitude for taking the position away from him. Although, that man ended up placing Hanseo as Vice Chairman.

Not the best, considering how Hanseo just wanted to fly away and live a life full of secrecy in Malta, but Jang Hanseo will endure it. Like how he always has.

One month ago, a Korean-American man walked up to him and said they were half brothers. Two weeks ago, his new half brother moved in with him, inspecting every crook and cranny his mansion had offered. One week ago, his “hyung” had assimilated the Chairman seat and now was working in the same chair Hanseo had once resided.

If one should say, “ work at Babel is tiring,” that would be a clear understatement in Hanseo’s eyes. Working at Babel meant restless nights, empty coffee cups piling on the floor, dark circles beneath eyes, bleary vision after each all-nighter and so much more.

So Hanseo did not understand why his new hyung had seemed to be in perfect shape.

Jang Hanseok appeared to look healthy, like he got 10 hours of sleep each night and never had reeked of coffee. Maybe it was an American thing, Hanseo pondered, the ability to look completely fine.

He rested his head against his knuckles, his elbow propping his whole arm up against the sleek dark oak desk. The world felt heavy. The air, his own head and eyelids.

Just as he slipped into an abyss of sleep-

Tap! T- Tap! Tap! T- Tap! Tap!

Sharp, rhythmic taps awoke him with a start. His whole body jolted up, and his drowsiness washed away as if someone had dumped ice cold water on him.

“ My dongsaeng!” The single English word prefixing the sentence was a dead giveaway to letting Hanseo know who it was.

“ Han- Hanseok hyung.” He greeted politely, standing up to give a respectful bow.

The Chairman shook his head, “ Hey, we’re brothers. No need for all that.” He comfortably slung an arm around Hanseo’s shoulder and the younger wondered if all Americans acted like this.

Hanseok then nonchalantly sat on top of his desk, disregarding the fact he was also sitting on a small pile of papers.

He popped a gummy bear into his mouth. “ Are you tired? Your skin doesn’t have that... glow that it normally does.”

Hanseo had no clue what English word was uttered but he nodded. “ Just a lot of paperwork nowadays.” Why was he so nervous? It was like a gut feeling that made him feel afraid of Hanseok. It was odd. He barely knew his brother.

“ Do you want a break?” Hanseok followed up with a very intriguing offer.

§

Hanseo doesn’t like video games. Or any sort of games. But if he had to choose between playing games or sorting out piles of worksheets, he’d rather pick the first option.

“ Try this!” Hanseok excitedly called him over to a shooting game, the place was adorned with plushies that would be given as prizes.

The arcade his hyung had taken him to was packed, and Hanseo never relished in crowds or public spaces like these.

Hesitant as always, Hanseo gripped the plastic gun and leveled himself to the sight, moving it to align with the water ballon target. A finger on the neon green trigger, he pressed down and the fake bullet missed the balloon by the slightest inch.

“ Oh, that was close!” Hanseok pipped up, walking over to get his turn. His competitive nature seemed to bloom as he added on, “ You should’ve aimed properly.”

Hanseo scoffed, giving his brother space to take his turn.

Hanseok’s face softened as he suddenly asked, “ Which one do you want?”

His younger brother blinked in slow motion. What? “ What?” He voiced his confusion out loud.

“ I said, which one do you want?” He repeated, gesturing to the plushies that were hanging on the ceiling and walls.

He didn’t know why, but he ended up blushing. No one had ever done these kinds of things for him. Hanseo sharply turned away from his hyung, embarrassed at the red that colored his cheeks.

Hanseok suppressed a chuckle, “ Come on~” He whined in English, “ Hurry up and pick!”

“ Uh...” Hanseo faced the prizes and scanned each one of them. All of them looked boring, too vivid and childish-

“ The puppy one.” He mumbled, his eyes set on the golden retriever plushie that was beside a very colorful stuffed unicorn.

His older half brother smiled mischievously. “ Sorry, I couldn’t hear you. Can you say that again?” Causing Hanseo to roll his eyes at the very obvious motive.

He cleared his throat and glanced at the floor. “ The puppy one at the top left.” He repeated clearly, and Hanseok hummed satisfied.

The Chairman raised the toy gun to his eyes, squinting as he aimed. Pulling the trigger, he had hit the first target flawlessly.

“ Woah!” Hanseo said in awe, well aware his brother hadn’t gone to the military yet so this skill was purely cultivated by himself.

Hanseok grinned victoriously, winking at the younger man. “ I’m gonna get it for you.” He clarified, pointing at the puppy plushie.

“ Hyung, you don’t need to-“

“ Oh, but I want to.” He cut the protest off, picking up the toy gun again to hit the second target.

Pop!

The second water balloon was down, meaning there was only one left. “ One more...” Hanseok muttered under his breath, placing his finger on the trigger.

Pop!

“ YES!” He cheered, pumping his fist in the air.

Hanseo cracked a genuine smile, seeing his hyung act like that.

Maybe he wasn’t so annoying after all.

§

“ I did well, didn’t I?” Hanseo piped up. A couple of hours had passed by in the arcade and the two had completely warmed up to each other’s company.

“ Mhm.” Hanseok replied, slinging an arm around his shoulder, gazing down at how adorably Hanseo was clutching the plushie. “ You deserve to be my brother.” He jokingly added on and the other simply scoffed.

“ By the way, you haven’t told me where we’re going yet.” His younger brother said, lips showing the tiniest amount of pouting.

“ We’re almost there,” Hanseok replied, “ See?” He pointed to the store before them, “ An ice cream shop!” He pulled away to make dramatic jazz hands.

Hanseo grinned a cute gummy smile that the older was slowly getting used to. “ Gosh, hyung, you-“

Hanseok immediately placed a single finger on his lips, hushing him. “ Zip it, we’re eating to our hearts content today.” Boldly, Hanseok reached out to his half brother’s unoccupied hand and intertwined their fingers. “ Let’s go!”

“ AH!” Hanseo yelped from the sudden pull, tightening his grip on the stuffed animal.

The glass doors opened with a chime, and the first thing Jang Hanseo noticed was the emptiness of the place.

“ Hyung...” He began, the realization sinking in, “ Did you-“

“ Reserve this?” Hanseok finished off the question, “ Yeah, I did.” He beamed proudly, “ I kinda forgot at first that you didn’t like crowded areas. Sorry.”

Did Hanseo’s heart skip a beat? He wasn’t sure. But he did know that he felt loved. Appreciated. He felt warm inside, like something bubbling at the pit of his stomach. “ Thank you..” He said, unable to find more suitable words.

“ Nah, don’t thank me.” Hanseok waved it off, “ Come on, let’s take a seat.” He changed the topic with ease, dragging the other along to a circular turquoise table.

One of the staff walked out and headed towards them. After basic greetings, they pulled out a notepad. “ What would you both like?”

Is this a fancy restaurant or something? Why is there a waitress-

“ Hanseo-ah, what do you want?” His brother’s question snapped him out of his thoughts.

“ Uh... I’ll have the double chocolate chip ice cream.” He scrambled to pick one quickly, his social anxiety not wanting to drag the conversation on further.

“ And you, sir?” The waitress turned to Hanseok.

“ Classic vanilla. With gummy bear toppings.” He answered curtly, and the lady quickly wrote it down before scurrying away.

A minute or so passed when the Jang brothers were handed their orders. Hanseo’s mouth watered at the sight of the extra chocolate drizzle that was placed on top of it all for free.

Hanseok smiled, “ I guess you like chocolate a lot?”

Hanseo nodded eagerly as he grabbed his spoon to dig in. After wiping some ice cream off his chin with the back of his hand, he decided to reply. “ And I guess you like gummy bears a lot?”

Hanseok chuckled, “ I love them.” His smile dropped a bit though, but the sparkles in his eyes remained. “ Hey, you got a little stuck beside your lips.” He pointed at Hanseo’s face, and the younger man immediately picked up a napkin and began cleaning the wrong side.

“ No- no,” Hanseok sighed,” Come on, let me do it.” He stood up and reached over the table, taking his thumb and gently wiping the ice cream off Hanseo’s face.

Hanseo immediately tensed under such soft touch, not really knowing why he was expecting something harsh.

“ O- oh, thanks.” He stuttered, focusing on the ice cream before him.

“ Mhm.” Hanseok continued to munch on his gummy bears, before scooping one out with his spoon. “ Wanna try?”

“ No, it’s okay you can have it.” He declined, this brother of his was already giving him way too much affection than what he was used to.

“ Say ‘ahh,’” Hanseok prompted, holding the spoon in front of his dongsaeng’s mouth as if he were a baby.

Hanseo blushed- out of being flustered or embarrassed- he’ll never know. He looked up into the Chairman’s eyes and regretted it right away.

The twenty something year old man was making puppy eyes. It sort of reminded him of the plushie he got today, big and cute. Sighing, Hanseo reluctantly opened his mouth.

“ There you go.” Hanseok grinned, and watched as the younger chewed on the gummy bear.

Hanseo didn’t have the heart to tell him that he actually despised gummy bears with all his being. But then again, Hanseo didn’t really like Hanseok or games at first. Now his point of view had changed.

Maybe he could grow to love gummy bears too.

[anasticep]

Why Julie and the Phantoms is a masterpiece of a show. Part 2. Heroes and Villains or Let that foil shine

NOTE: Thanks again for your kind response to Part 1. I never expected that. It being my first tumblr post and a first meta in quite a long time I was blown away. I read all the tags, some were really hilarious. About having more than one brain cell xDDD I laughed so hard. It means a lot.

NOTE2: Please remember that the gifs are made by me, so don't crop, edit or give as yours.

Part 1.

Before diving into meta, I have to mention that the Villain of the story is actually one of the best in the decade. He’s cool, evil from the start, we understand his motives and we certainly are not supposed to love and make excuses for him. The writers made sure of that. So back to the main topic.

A foil is a character who contrasts with another character; typically, a character who contrasts with the protagonist, in order to better highlight or differentiate certain qualities of the protagonist

Foils in literature are not necessarily antagonists. A friend can be a foil or sometimes even a thing, a song. Whatever can make a good and real contrast to the protagonist. But it’s not very simple to use this author’s device and not fall down a deep hole. Because you have to make sure you did just the right amount of work to make it understandable for a reader, the things you want to contrast are definitely there and still you don't waste a character. On TV it can be even harder given limited air time. And, well, I don’t come across this device being used in full very often nowadays. It’s usually good and evil fighting for the plot. That’s why I personally appreciate JaTP so much.

Caleb is clearly a foil to Luke. As much as I’d love to say that Julie also has one, that’s not entirely true, at least not this season. Carrie is not her foil though it may seem so, and I really think that’s cool as Julie’s journey is being presented through her own demons and I'm going to cover that next. That being said, of course Caleb doubles as an antagonist plotwise, but I personally consider him being written more as a contract to Luke so we could see and appreciate his character and journey better.

1. Origins

Caleb and Luke have extremely similar backgrounds. They are both natural performers. They know how to deliver, because c’mon, “Now or Never” is something and so is “The other side of Hollywood”. Stage is their natural habitat, their element, power. Although they channel this power from completely different places.

Let’s start with our little ball of energy. It’s emphasized TWICE that he doesn’t care about the money aka the physical side of art.

All Luke wants is to make music. Connect with people. He is so happy just to be heard despite him loving to perform. Making music is what makes him feel alive and basically that’s enough. I think if there was no “hologram” magic at all, Luke would have still been extremely happy to make music with and for Julie. Because that’s the way he is.

But Caleb doesn’t know that. He knows, and I’m standing by that, right away that Luke is the one to aim at. Because we always feel the similarity in people. If Luke said yes, Reggie and Alex would have followed. So Caleb recognizes the passion and shoots at them what he thinks is appealing. And, oh boy, he delivers.

“The Other Side of Hollywood” is a perfect song to emphasize Luke and Caleb being foils for each other. Follow me here:

But these lines come from very different places. For Caleb the only thing that matters is himself. He owns the show, he IS the show. It’s about being famous, drowning in applause, admiration. Look at how he performs. Confident, yes, but still very much in control. He must keep his perfect face. No flaws, no real emotions, no real connection (Did you miss ME? I did too // This band is back). Whereas Luke is simply living the best time of his life each time he performs. Is it just jamming? Bring it on. Doing fun riffs? He’s all for it. He doesn’t care how he looks (though who could deny gorgeous sweaty Luke), he owns the show just because he is a natural.

So back to the business. Caleb immediately puts the boys in his own shoes:

On the other side we live like kings // Your soulprint on the walk of fame on the boulevard of your wildest dreams // I got your glamour, got your gold, got all you’ll ever need

And, I mean, he is not that wrong. You can see the appeal on the boys’ faces. They are young, passionate, handsome, talented musicians. Of course they wouldn’t deny fame. Of course they would want all that to some extent. And Caleb is very sure he pulled the right strings.

Watch me make a move, I’m your number one choice

Also I have to mention, as we are talking about TOSOH (IKEA name again) and it being a foil for Luke, thy lyrics still don’t forget about what is important for Reggie and Alex (we’ll talk about that just a bit later):

Welcome to the brotherhood -> Reggie

Where you won’t be misunderstood -> Alex

Then again, lots of foreshadowing in the song, if you listen carefully the lyrics are stressing the true colors of the offer:

A tomb with a view

Man, what a metaphor. I would have run out of there the minute I heard this line. But our boys share one brain cell (I can’t get over how funny this is) and it’s currently taken by Julie, so I don’t blame them.

Disappointment is huge. Caleb read it all wrong. So we are moving to the next point in our Heroes and Villains essay.

2. Recruitment

It’s very cool that Caleb offers the boys to join his band right after Luke offers Julie to join Sunset Curve. They both are going out of their ways to get that (although have different budgets apparently. But look, they live in a garage). Luke made a hit with a bunch of Julie’s not very well structured lines (I love Flying Solo with all my heart as a song, but as a poem it just looks weird to me) to impress her, and we all saw the show Caleb had thrown to impress the boys. Plus food. And fancy dancing. But here is where contrast comes again.

Caleb offers to join the band, yes, but only as backup singers. It’s his show, remember? It’s only about him. He doesn’t care if they are even good. He wants their magic under control.

Share the spotlight with ME / How do you like MY new band?!

Luke offering Julie a spot in the band is a completely different story. He saw what she is capable of. He instantly knows she must be the key to a new sound, a new level. And he, a natural performer, frontman, lead guitarist, steps back and gives the spotlight to Julie. To think about it, he could have just got her magic under control by giving her simple lines, incorporating piano in the songs and that’s all. They would be visible, he would still be a center of attention, and Julie herself wouldn't mind that much. But that’s not who Luke is. Yes, there is a funny scene of “Hey, I’m your lead singer” and “you don’t have to be mean”, but it’s just messing around. Because right after that he finishes Flying Solo, writes several other songs with Julie, seeks her approval of Sunset Curve songs and basically follows her around like an adorable excited puppy.

Moving on and back to the rejection. Again the writers are mirroring them. Julie quits the band & the boys decline the offer. What does Luke do? Well, he tries the way he knows: books a gig, makes Reggie and Alex sing in perfect harmonies and does his puppy eyes thing. And it doesn’t work. And Luke goes to reflect and then probably try to come up with a plan. But something tells me he would not have haunted Julie until she joined them.

What does Caleb do after the initial rejection? Puts a cursed stamp that leaves them no choice but to join HGC. You don’t need to say more.

But in fact the more I think about it, the more I suspect Caleb also not possessing enough mental capacity for a human being. Like, if it wasn’t for Willie, how would they even know? Has Caleb planned to simply show up one day and casually explain? Look, foils in everything.

“You’re in a tough spot… So, you wanna join the band?” | “Looked like it hurt… you know where to find me”

But we sidestepped a bit.

3. Pulling the strings

After the song Caleb comes out to consolidate his success. What he does is clever and, btw, that’s the only time he becomes Julie’s foil. They are stating basically the same thing.

Again, Julie is concerned about the band and the boys, while Caleb is only concerned about having them under control. But they both are pulling basically the right strings.

What is interesting, Caleb actually impressed the wrong person (and that person is our sweet Reggie). Luke follows the string Julie pulled. Although the offer is tempting, he insists twice that they are in a band already directly to Caleb and then in Eats&Beats he says "It's like Julie said, we have a new band, a new sound». No matter what Caleb promised, Luke is not affected at all although Caleb’s offer is a very-very safe choice.

Speaking about using friends as foils, Alex and Reggie also serve as contrast characters for Luke at some points. Luke’s indifference to money is first stressed through Alex who is clearly the chief accountant for the band. His lines about not getting tips, living in a garage and «it’s a little bit about the money» are waved aside by Luke. Reggie is clearly the most affected by the whole Bobbie thing. His lines «I don’t care what Julie said, I’m glad we scared Bobbie», «So we’re gonna forget about getting back at Trevor?» are getting a clear contrast by Luke’s «It’s what Julie said, we have a new band, a new sound» and «He has to live with that guilt».

While editing the article I realised a very cool thing I haven't noticed before. How badly Luke wants to go on tour. And again that's another thing Caleb offers as if reading his mind. That's actually brilliant, to think about it.

Caleb is a VERY good reader. He tests the waters with a speech about disappearing from stage and going around the world and all dreams coming true. Still he doesn’t know the boys and especially Luke, so his phrase “no real connection” doesn’t register that much.

But he learns. Remember the lines I’ve marked before?

Reggie is afraid they will not be together after they cross over. He is in desperate need of a family. So wouldn’t it be nice to spend the rest of your afterlife with your brothers? (Reggie's main insecurity is loneliness, feel of a broken family. That's why he is the most concerned about crossing over. Will his family stay intact?)

Alex is insecure, and not being understood by the people closest to him will always hit hard. So welcome to a place where you won’t be misunderstood. And actually we know there is a guy you like and find comfort in. (Alex's insecurity is growing up in times when he could not truly be himself even with his family and for sure not believing he would ever be able to find someone meant just for him)

That mirrors the whole Luke’s beach speech perfectly. Only comparing them we can truly appreciate why Luke is the leader. He shuts down his own demons to make Alex and Reggie remember that they are not alone (“and I believe in you”. sorry. Olicity fan).

Caleb makes them suffer to get what he wants. But this time he is careful with the words aimed at Luke. Yes, he repeats his words about vanishing and applauses BUT he makes sure that his words about CONNECTION are the key words for Luke. Intense look, calming voice, touching - these are all elements of hypnosis. And Luke is in a daze. (Continuing the parents' thing, for Luke the main insecurity is not managing to connect with his mom. Maybe that's such a big thing for him: through all these people he wanted to find that connection with her)

4. The Hero’s journey

That’s the best part actually but I won’t be saying anything new or that you don’t know. Luke is made of lyrics and music. That’s his soul, heart, that’s the feeling running through his veins. He doesn’t need anything other than that in his life. Playing for eternity is “a gift no musician would ever turn down”. But he actually does turn it down. As well as his dream to go see the world with his band (is there covid in jatp universe?). He is the one who resists the hardest to the pull. Luke, who always has a guitar in his hands, doesn't want to play. Because it’s not only about the music now. He has this amazing girl in his afterlife who was willing to accept them for who they were, helped Luke battle his own demons, eased his pain and made him open up. And it doesn’t make sense any longer without her anymore. “And you’re a part of me now till eternity”.

Caleb, being Luke’s foil, completely misses the whole point of connection. It’s not in his nature. His house band are just recruits (Just so happens you’re in luck we’ve got a vacancy). For Luke his band is his family (We are the only family we ever gonna need). The Connection theme is one of the main in the show. And it’s so cool to show it focused through Luke whose best way of interaction is a touch. But not being able to touch Julie Luke has to find other ways, although it’s not that simple for him. And Julie backs that up: We connect in so many other ways. They literally touched each other's souls. Without knowing she put a stamp of her own on Luke, Alex and Reggie. They’ve never felt loved enough, appreciated enough, supported enough. They’ve only had each other. And Julie’s stamp is love. And for Luke (as well as Reggie and Alex) from now on this girl is worth dying for all over again.

_______

So yeah. I hope you enjoyed it, as I for sure enjoyed writing. There is gonna be a part 3 about Julie and a few honorable mentions of parallels of the Pilot and the Finale (I hope at least to do all that). I’ve also figured very very cool connections in the songs and I can’t wait to share.

Also as I was heavily speaking about The Other side of Hollywood, @catty-words has a wonderful meta on rain metaphors here (sorry for tagging, if you don't want to be tagged), check it out if you somehow missed it. It's super clever.

[wrenhyperfixates]

Party Favors

Pairing: Loki x reader Summary: Loki comes to the rescue when your nephews’ birthday party is on the brink of disaster. Warnings: some curse words and implied smut; fluff

Disclaimer: Gif not mine

“No! Don’t run there. It’s slippery.”

“Hang on, the bathroom’s right inside.”

“There’s going to be cake later, and you don’t want to get a tummy ache.”

Gosh, kids were tiring. You’d promised your sister, Katie, that you’d help out at your nephews’ birthday party. It was a sticky summer afternoon, but the heat did nothing to slow down the thirty-something kids running around the backyard. Between neighbors, classmates, and camp friends, the birthday boys had quite the guest list. Your sister and brother-in-law were both chaperoning the party, along with some other parents, but you were still outnumbered. Even if you weren’t, kids in large groups seem to have a penchant for trouble. It sure didn’t help that they were all at the age where chaos seemed like average fun.

Spotting the twins, you decided to take a few photos for your sister, who was busy running around to make sure everything was running smoothly. “Hey, Timmy. Hey, Tommy. How’re my favorite nephews today?” you said after snapping a few shots.

“But Auntie (y/n),” Timmy started, “we’re your only nephews.”

“Yeah, and we’re eight now,” Tommy continued for his brother. “You can’t trick us anymore.”

“We’re big boys now,” they finished together.

“I guess you are,” you replied, laughing. “Not too big for the bouncy house, I hope.”

“Of course not, Auntie. Bye!” they shouted, running towards the inflatable castle.

You walked over to the boys’ father, Lucas, and helped him check all the Slip 'N Slides and water balloon supplies. Just when you thought you might get through the day without any disasters, your sister came running up to you and Lucas.

“The clown just cancelled. There was a huge traffic jam and he can’t make it in time,” she said in a conspiratorial whisper.

“That’s all right,” Lucas said. “I’ve been saving some grade-A dad jokes for a situation like this.”

Both you and Katie groaned, eliciting a hurt scoff from her husband. And then a genius idea hit you.  

“Wait a minute, guys. I literally work with superheroes.”

A few years ago, you’d scored a position at Stark Industries and, though you’d never worked in the field, often helped the team from the lab. You’d even played a large role in designing Tony’s latest suit.

“Could you really get one of them to come? I mean, aren’t they busy?” your sister asked.

Truth be told, you weren’t sure that they were free, but they definitely owed you a favor. You’d saved their butts more times than you could count. It was, at very least, worth a try. You found the quietest place you could, then called Tony. Then Thor. Then Steve. Then Nat. None of them picked up. In a desperate last attempt, you phoned the Tower hoping someone would pick up. F.R.I.D.A.Y. answered and confirmed the presence of one Avenger in the Tower. You immediately asked her to put them on, not bothering to check who it was.

“Hi. I have an urgent matter and need to call in a favor.”

“And since when do I owe you one?” a smooth baritone came from the other end of the line.

Shit, you thought, of all the people in the Tower it had to be him. You and Loki got along well enough, but you weren’t friends, per se. The two of you constantly kept up a witty banter that was often flirtatious. The others teased you about it, and you were sure they placed bets on which one of you would ask the other out first. That, of course, was stupid, as Loki obviously did not feel that way about you. And how you felt? Well, it was best not to dwell on it.

“Oh, hi Loki. Sorry, you weren’t who I was expecting. Where’s everyone else?”

“Out at the movies. They should be back in half an hour, if your urgent matter can wait that long.” You let out a frustrated groan, which prompted him to say, “Well, that’s certainly not how I imagined getting that sound out of you.”

You were thankful he wasn’t there to see you blush. You didn’t know if you could wait that long for the rest of the Avengers. That didn’t even include the time it would take for them to actually arrive. You were about to hang up and tell Katie she better try to find a replacement clown or magician when you got your second great idea that afternoon.

“Loki,” you said, “I’m sending you my location. Just come over as fast as you can. I’ll explain when you get here.”

Then you hung up before he could respond. You raced to the front of the house to wait but were nervous that he wouldn’t show. You didn’t have long to worry, though, because he suddenly materialized, making you jump a little. Sometimes you forgot that he could teleport.

“Your savior is here,” he declared, striking a dramatic pose.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “Yeah, yeah. My hero,” you said before explaining the situation to him.

“Well, I’m afraid I’m not very popular with the masses, (y/n). I think you’d be better off waiting for one of the others.”

You couldn’t help but notice how he tried to hide the sadness behind those words. Before he could leave, you protested, “Kids may love superheroes, but you know what they love even more? Magicians!”

He raised a skeptical eyebrow at that. “I’m not sure how you came to that conclusion. Besides, I don’t much appreciate being reduced to a mere magician.” He stopped for a second to tap his chin as if deep in thought, before continuing, “But, I suppose if you ask nicely, I might consider it.”

You made your best puppy dog eyes and stuck out your lower lip while giving him a pouty please. He considered you for a moment before responding.

“Very well,” he said. “I will save you this time. Just remember that you owe me. In fact, I’ve already got just the thing in mind.”

The devilish grin he gave you with that last part caused an involuntary shiver to run down your spine. He noticed but decided not to push his luck. Besides, he genuinely found it cute. In fact, he found everything about you cute. However, he refused to acknowledge the way his heart beat faster when you took his hand to lead him into the house. As you were walking, he conjured a classic magician outfit for himself. Though, he opted to have green accents instead of the traditional red. When you turned back around to face him, you couldn’t stop the girlish giggle that escaped your lips.

“Like what you see, darling?” he asked, striking a pose.

“Oh, fuck off.”

Despite your harsh response, you were blushing. As much as you were loath to admit it, he was rather dashing in the suit and top hat. You felt a sudden rush of nervousness as you introduced him to Katie and Lucas. You could see on their faces that they were trying to figure out where they knew Loki from. The second they connected the dots, their faces fell, but the reassuring smile you gave them must have worked since they started gathering the kids for the show. In all honesty, you hadn’t thought about their reaction to his being there. Or the other parents’ reaction, for that matter. It was hard to remember that the world was still clinging to the madman he’d been at the battle of New York when you knew he was just a witty prankster. Actually, he did a lot of good for the world. To you, he was just Loki.

You offered him a grateful smile as he stepped up in front of the kids and introduced himself as Loki the Magnificent. For as reluctant as he was in agreeing to this, he was putting on quite a show for them. It was a good thing, too, considering how brutally honest kids could be. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding when it became apparent how enraptured all the children were with his act. He even brought Timmy and Tommy onstage to assist him with a few tricks. You made sure to take tons of pictures, partly for your sister, but mainly to tease Loki with later.

Once he finished his last trick, the kids were seated at various tables and the cake was brought out. You wanted to run up to Loki and thank him, but you had to help distribute the cake. After double checking that all the kids got a slice, you brought a piece to Loki.

“Hey, you were great up there. And I guess you really saved my ass,” you said, mumbling the last part.

“It was my pleasure. Believe it or not, I had fun.”

He raised a bit of cake on his fork in a sort of salute to you. You fully expected him to leave once he finished eating, but, to your surprise, he stayed even after all the guests had gone. You two were cleaning up the junk in the backyard when you found yourself thanking him again.

“Really,” you said, “I don’t know what we would have done without you.”

“Well mortal, let this be a lesson on how superior I am and-”

His sentence was cut short by you dumping a bucket of water down his back. You were laughing so hard that you didn’t notice him get one of his own to return the favor. You shrieked in delight as he started hurling leftover water balloons at you. You ran away from him, but his aim was impeccable. Pretty soon, you were drenched. Though you were able to seize some ammunition of your own, you were no match for the god.

“Okay, okay,” you shouted to him, bent over, trying to catch your breath. “Truce.”

“No way,” he replied, running up behind you and grabbing you by the waist. Lifting you into the air and spinning, he said, “I’m claiming this as a victory!”

Your laughter was making such a racket that Katie came to see what was going on. Through giggles, you apologized to her, but she just waved you off. Seeing as you and Loki were both sopping wet, she thanked you for all your help and sent you home to dry off. You wondered why she didn’t let you stay there to do so, but the smirk on her face answered that. Rolling your eyes at her, you said goodbye and then shouted farewells to Lucas and your nephews, who were inside.

You and Loki made your way to your car in a peaceful silence. You offered him a ride, but he insisted on teleporting you home instead. Only problem was, he brought you straight to his bedroom, not your home. You gave him a quizzical look that demanded he explain himself.

“Don’t forget, little one. You owe me a favor.”

“Oh yeah? Bring it on.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After their movie ended, the Avengers tried to return your calls. You never did pick up. They didn’t have to wonder why for long, though. The sounds coming from a certain bedroom answered that question perfectly.

[dinosaurtsukki]

❀ promises | “a house by the sea for the two of us, that’s what i want” feat. iwaizumi hajime + pacific rim AU

⇢ day 10 of angstcember

⇢ synopsis: you knew the risks that came with the job when you agreed to co-pilot a jaeger with iwaizumi, even more so when you two grew close. every time you get sent out on a mission, you wonder if both of you would be coming back

⇢ content warnings: character death, suicide attack

⇢ a/n: so, back in the day (probs 2015) i was reading this notoriously long and famous hq!! pacific rim AU and it was amazing so i wanted to write my own (it’s nowhere near the quality of that fic tho but i tried ;-;)

⇢ pairing: iwaizumi hajime x f!reader

⇢ word count: 2.5k words

ANGSTCEMBER MASTERLIST (feat. haikyuu!! and bungou stray dogs)

━━━━━━━━✿ ━━━━━━━━

nothing else in the world could compare to the feeling of co-piloting a jaeger. you always remember the first time you saw one up close: all metal and weapons as far as the eye could see, being dropped into the ocean to fight off a kaiju. it looked invincible, it looked like humankind’s problems all solved. 

co-piloting one was absolutely nerve-wracking. just the idea of being able to control a large weapon of that size with your mind and have it imitate your body movements sent your head spinning. even now, as you made it move across the ocean towards where the kaiju was, you still felt that unease.

“hey, don’t act like this is the first time you’re doing this,” iwaizumi’s voice and thoughts interrupted you. he flashed you a cocky grin, shaking you out of your thoughts.

of course, you weren’t doing it alone. a jaeger could never be piloted alone, both in the physical and mental sense. “sorry, just had something on my mind,” you chuckled nervously.

“yeah, well the sooner you get that out of your mind, the sooner we’ll be able to beat this thing and still be able to get something to drink later,” iwaizumi, your co-pilot and lover winked at you.

“is alcohol always on your mind, iwaizumi?” you teased.

“you know for a fact it isn’t, l/n,” he grinned. you smiled, squaring your shoulders in-sync with iwaizumi as your jaeger stood before the prowling category 3 kaiju. 

“let’s do this thing.” 

...

“what did you say, cadet?” 

“i said, i can beat you in five moves,” you retorted, jutting your chin up as you stared straight into the eyes of iwaizumi hajime, one of the youngest jaeger pilots who also happened to be your trainer.

“i’d like to see you try,”  he narrowed his eyes at you before jerking his head in the direction of the training mat in the center used for sparring matches. you strode to your end of the mat and got into fighting stance. it wasn’t that you didn’t respect iwaizumi, quite the opposite actually, but you were eager to prove yourself, eager to get recruited to become a co-pilot. 

and besides, as someone who had to fight every single day when your town was destroyed, you were confident in your skills.

but so was iwaizumi, who had been a cadet when he was just a teenager and a pilot when he hit eighteen. he had fought people and kaijus alike and expected that he would make you eat your words seconds into your sparring match. 

what neither of you expected was that you would be trading blows, without ever landing a single hit, for quite some time. it came to a point that not only the cadets but other officers nearby came to watch the match unfold. suddenly, both of you were stopped by the captain and head of the base.

while you felt a sudden rush of adrenaline at his approving gaze, iwaizumi felt as if a weight was dropped in his stomach. there was a chance that you two were drift-compatible.

...

“let’s finish him off!” iwaizumi exclaimed. 

“you read my mind!” you grinned as the two of you raised your jaeger’s plasma cannon and aimed it at the badly wounded kaiju. there was a loud hum and the crackle of electricity as the plasma cannon charged before firing a shot. you watched with a smile on your face as the kaiju was blown to pieces across the ocean.

“well, that’s that then,” iwaizumi said. 

“good work you two,” your captain’s voice crackled over the radio. “as expected of miyagi base’s best duo.” 

“we have to come up with a flashier name,” you told iwaizumi as you two maneuvered your jaeger back to base. “i mean, that just sounds like a mouthful and not nearly as fear-striking.” 

“oh yeah?” iwaizumi raised an eyebrow at you. “how about the miyagi demons?” 

“why demons? aren’t we supposed to be helping people?” 

“yeah but from the kaiju’s perspective, we’re the demons.” 

“i don’t know if they’re capable of having that opinion,” you snorted. 

“hmm, miyagi menaces!” iwaizumi said proudly, causing you to laugh. 

“you are such a dork, you know that?” 

“shut up, i don’t see you coming up with cool names,” he pouted. 

“we have the rest of the night to come up with all the cool names,” you smiled, visibly relaxing now that the entire ordeal was over. even though it was an honorable job, being a jaeger pilot meant that whenever you and iwaizumi went out on a mission, there was a chance that you wouldn’t come back. you had lost too many friends and acquaintances along the way from kaiju attacks and each time you and iwaizumi made it home only felt like you had prolonged your death date. if it wasn’t today, it was going to be on another day.

‘but not today,’ you smiled to yourself as you and iwaizumi headed back to base. only, you were suddenly interrupted by your captain’s voice on the radio.

“l/n, iwaizumi! our signals have picked up something new!” he exclaimed. you felt iwaizumi’s panic first hand as you two quickly turned around to find the spot where you had just killed the category 3 kaiju turn red, meaning another was about to surface. 

“a double attack?!” you verified, hoping you were wrong.

“i-it wasn’t in the prediction,” your captain replied. “some kind of anomaly or the enemy just getting smarter.”

“either way, we still have to kill it, right?” iwaizumi growled, hefting the plasma cannon up. 

“i don’t feel good about this...” you murmured as you two got into stance.

“neither do i,” iwaizumi said through gritted teeth. “but i’ll make sure you get back home in one piece. i promise.” 

“alright,” you nodded, smiling a tight-lipped smile at him before turning your attention to the kaiju that rose to the surface. this one was much bigger than the one you had just faced before, probably twice the size of the jaeger you were in. and to make matters worse, you could tell that it’s entire body was covered with armor plating and it had a long tail with spikes on the end.

with your thoughts connected to iwaizumi’s, you could feel even his unease wash over you like a wave. who knew if either of you were going to make it?

...

it was the drifting that you were worried about. almost anybody could train themselves physically in preparation to become a jaeger pilot, but very few had what it takes to expose themselves mentally with someone else. it was easier for people who were siblings or lovers or best friends, but you and iwaizumi didn’t know each other prior to your first meeting. even after you two were forced to share a living space in the base so that you two would get closer.

but you and iwaizumi were guarded with your own demons that you were reluctant to expose to the other. the first time you tried drifting, neither of you were willing to open your minds and ended up with both of you getting kicked out of the drift. 

which was why you and iwaizumi finally decided to sit down inside your shared bedroom to have a little sharing session. you couldn’t help but laugh when he suggested it but both of you knew just how much you needed this. it was either that, or pass on the role of co-piloting to other cadets.

“okay, i guess i’ll be the one to start,” you exhaled, gripping the sheets under you for comfort as you told iwaizumi how you ended up in the co-piloting program. you lived in a town near the coast and when the kaiju started showing up, it was one of the first ever places that was hit. nobody was prepared, especially not you. 

“i’m sorry,” iwaizumi whispered as you recounted how you were running through the city, pushing past the crowds, only to turn around to see that your parents who were supposed to be right behind you were lying in a crumpled heap on the ground.

“all the more reason to fight them, you know? so less people end up like me,” you shrugged. “you... don’t have to open up again if you don’t want to.” after all, iwaizumi and his former co-pilot, oikawa tooru, had been quite famous back in the day for being young, amazing jaeger pilots. that is, until they faced a category five kaiju with a broken plasma cannon. 

you still couldn’t forget the sight of the kaiju punching a hole through the jaeger, through the pilot’s chamber. you could only imagine how it felt like for iwaizumi.

“it was... intense,” he exhaled, his brow furrowing. “one minute he was just there and the next, the drift connection had completely disappeared but i could just feel him leave. luckily i was able to activate the escape pod.”

“we’ll fight them,” you said, resting your hand over his. “together. we’ll fight as many of them as we can.” 

for the first time in a while, you and iwaizumi had come to a mutual understanding. iwaizumi had a legitimate reason for not wanting to be in the pilots’ chamber again, so you wanted to make it worth it.

...

you were living right in your worst nightmare. 

fighting category five kaijus was nearly impossible without some form of back-up. the miyagi base sent in their jets to fire bombs at the kaiju but with its armor plating, it had little to no effect. your only hope was aiming at the kaiju’s underbelly, but even that was difficult.

your own jaeger was beat up, thanks to the kaiju’s tail and from sustaining a flurry of hits. “brace yourself!” iwaizumi yelled as the kaiju closed its jaws around your jaeger’s right arm and using it to haul you up and toss you to the side. the force of the impact was absolutely jarring and it felt as if your entire head was scrambled.

“y/n! are you alright?” you heard iwaizumi call out to you. the side of his head was bleeding after you were both thrown against the back of the pilot’s chamber. luckily, you were both still strapped into your suits and still very much in the drift. you both got to your feet to find the kaiju still prowling towards you, taking its sweet time.

“how are we going to beat this thing?” your voice shook, knowing that iwaizumi could feel your hopelessness. your mind through the memories of earlier that day: you and iwaizumi eating cereal while watching TV, watering the little succulent you kept by the window, eating and joking around with some of your friends at the base, iwaizumi giving you a quick kiss before you both suited up. was this going to be your last memories?

“hey. we’ll be alright,” iwaizumi said aloud, looking at you with a soft smile on his face. you wondered how he could even smile like that in this situation. “i promised, didn’t i?” 

you nodded slowly. as a jaeger pilot, you were always prepared to die when you went out on new missions. and if that meant going down fighting, hopefully taking the kaiju down with you, with the man you loved, you were prepared to do just that.

...

it wasn’t that rare for couples to end up as jaeger co-pilots, or for co-pilots to end up as couples. but that only made it all the more tragic whenever one or both of them died during a mission. you knew fellow co-pilots who had postponed their weddings only for them to die, or for one co-pilot to be driven mad after losing their partner. it was enough to deter you from having feelings for iwaizumi, but not completely.

because of your drift connection, it didn’t take long for either of you to discover your feelings for each other. after a particularly hard mission where both of you almost died, iwaizumi ended up confessing to you in the changing room after you both departed your jaeger. 

and seeing that it was impossible for you to be apart from each other, both of you gave in.

“do you think we would have met if it weren’t for the kaijus and the jaeger program?” you asked one night while the two of you were in bed, your head laying on his chest. 

“i like to think that we do,” iwaizumi chuckled, running his hand through your hair. “maybe we’d meet each other in high school or university or something.” 

“what would you have wanted to be?” 

“a sports trainer,” iwaizumi said softly. “i was actually into playing sports back then. how about you?” 

“i wanted to own a flower shop,” you chuckled.

“you? a flower shop?” 

“don’t laugh!” you smacked his arm lightly. 

“you’d make a wonderful florist,” your boyfriend laughed and kiss you on the forehead. “maybe i’d run into you while buying flowers for my mom on mother’s day.” 

“and i’d definitely remember the large, muscular guy who entered my shop,” you giggled. “do you think it’s possible? for things to go back to normal? for us to actually survive this whole thing?”

“i don’t know,” iwaizumi replied honestly. “but i know what i want: a house by the sea for the two of us, that’s what i want.” 

...

“i’m sorry, y/n.” 

that was the last thing you could feel him think before iwaizumi kicked you out of the drift, sending you reeling. the kaiju was approaching and fast. 

“hajime! what are you doing?!” you panicked, turning to look at him but his brow was furrowed in concentration as he manipulated a few buttons on his controller. he was piloting the jaeger by himself. before you could say anything else or force yourself back into the drift, you felt yourself being pulled back by the security straps attached to your suit. you recognized the sensation back from when you were still in co-pilot training practicing the emergency protocols for evacuation.

evacuation.

with sudden horror, you realized what iwaizumi was planning, what he planned all along, to do.

“captain? i’ve initiated emergency evacuation for l/n,” you heard him speak into the radio. “please, please make sure to get to their escape pod.”

“understood, iwaizumi,” your captain’s voice crackled over the speakers. “we can’t thank you enough for your bravery and sacrifice.” 

“no! hajime don’t! let me stay! let me do this with you,” you screamed even as you were loaded into the escape pod. 

“sorry, y/n,” you finally heard him speak. it was as if time had slowed down as he turned to look at you once more. you didn’t want to believe that this was going to be the last time you would see iwaizumi’s face ever again. you would never wake up next to him in bed or eat cereal from the same bowl or dream about a future that you knew now you could never have.

“i... i don’t want to go back if you’re not coming with me,” you said.

“i know it’s going to be hard but, try to live well, alright?” iwaizumi said and pressed the button, fully ejecting your pod out of the jaeger before you could say anything else. your screams filled the escape pod as you hammered against it uselessly, even as the kaiju descended on the jaeger with its lone pilot before iwaizumi pressed the self-destruct button.

you’ve always hated funerals, having gone to far too many of them. especially when the deceased co-pilot’s partner was there to receive any medals of honor in their place. that was the first thing you thought of as the people in the base helped you out of your escape pod, offering messages of sympathy for your loss. because of his sacrifice, iwaizumi was surely going to be granted quite a lot of medals with you receiving them in his place. as if they could be enough to make up for the space in your bed and the house by the sea that would forever stay empty. 

━━━━━━━━✿ ━━━━━━━━

event taglist: @himikadafangirl @swoona-rintarou @l-dokisaki-l @laure-chan @aonenthusiast @ah-kaashi @just-a-gay-bean @linyu-sees-you @alto-march-of-death @newfriendjen @shrimpypenis @tenyafacesquish @mkkhaikyuu @animeismysleepparalysisdemon​

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[rxmanticdevil]

One Shot #1 - Magicians for Sport, Trelawny’s side

Characters: Josiah Trelawny, Arthur Morgan, Charles Smith Spoilers: Through Ch. 3 Words: ~3142 Trigger warnings: Kidnapping, violence, choking Explanation for this abomination: The story mission “Magicians for Sport” from the perspective of what happened to Trelawny. Josiah is minding his own business, bounty hunters decide they want a chat. Things get better from there (just kidding, they don’t get better). This has most likely been written before but tbh I didn’t look because I wanted to write it and I’ve just done research for my degree and I don’t want to research anymore.))

Trelawny was hardly registering his actions as he placed the two small slices of bread on a plate, a small meal for the early morning. His mind was distracted, his thoughts with the gang he had grown so fond of. Those bounty hunters were quite determined to get a hold of Dutch. And Arthur. The whole gang was in danger, which wasn’t really out of the norm. But this time it felt different, those bounty hunters seemed determined in a way that put Josiah’s hair on end.

The sound of hooves on dirt caught his already heightened attention, and he glanced out his window to see familiar figures coming up the path to the small collection of caravans full of the unsavory people he had found to blend into.

Those were the bounty hunters he had spoken to by the state line. Without wasting any time he pulled the curtains closed, locking the doors as he could. His caravan only had two rectangular rooms, but two doors – two areas of vulnerability.

He held his breath, they were getting closer, there were voices: We’re looking for a guy.

Another voice. The fence who operated out of the next caravan over. He pressed his ear against his front door, straining to hear. But he couldn’t make out what was being said, there was no loyalty here and he knew what the bounty hunters wanted. He was familiar enough with people like them – he knew what they’d do to get it.

The seconds ticked by but felt like hours until he heard the sound of horses trotting away. He took a deep breath, nearly collapsing to his knees from relief.

“Thank God….” – and the fence too. It seemed he would be escaping this scenario unharmed.

He went back to his plate of food but was once more unable to focus on it, his hands trembling too violently to be useful whenever he attempted to spread the raspberry jam over the bread. His mind raced. The bounty hunters were here, in Rhodes. While Josiah didn’t know where Dutch and the others were holed up now, he did know they would be coming back this way. It was imperative that he tracked them down, any of the gang down, at least to deliver the message –stay low, for God’s sake your lives are at stake. Stay. Alert.

Advice he should have heeded himself, it seemed.

The back door was kicked open with an unparalleled violent force at the same time as the front door. The sudden actions causing Josiah’s heart to jump, near pounding out of his chest, and his body escaped to the farthest point from the most immediate intruder at his front doorway. Unfortunately, that was the edge of his bed and it was hardly any more distance at all.

“Good morning, sir,” the bounty hunter coming from the front stood in his doorway, his body filling up the door frame as he held a gun in his hand, “We just got a few questions for you, we won’t be long.”

It was one of the first times in a long time that Trelawny felt genuine fear. Trapped, his revolver by the door where the man stood– there was no way he could get it without being grabbed – or shot. He could only wait for what would happen next. A fact that the man before him seemed to savor, drinking in Trelawny’s paled face and white knuckles clinging to the edge of his bed.

The man’s face melted into a cruel grin as he neared, “You remember me, right? We spoke at the state line?” he waited a moment, taunting Josiah to respond. “You remember we were talking – about Dutch Van der Linde? My colleagues and I seem to think you left out some details.”

“You must have me confused with someone else. I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You don’t, huh?” a fist went to the framed photograph on his wall, shattering the glass as it fell to the ground. The sharp action, the threat, caused Trelawny to jump. If these men didn’t kill him soon his heart would surely do him in.

“I told you, I just got here from Oregon-” It wasn’t acting this time, how his voice pitched up, squeaking out the story he had threaded during their earlier encounter.

A hand grabbed his neck and threw him onto the ground, into the glass. His attacker wasted no time looming over him, leaning down to grab him once more by the throat, pulling Josiah up close to his face.

“Try again.”

“I don’t know anything-”

The fist came at him once. And then twice. He was seeing stars, trying to regain any sense of equilibrium before he was picked up and thrown once more, like a ragdoll, from one side of his caravan to the other. His back hit his counter, knocking the shelves down.

“I said try again.”

Trelawny felt blood coming from his wounds, and an anger building inside him. Fear dissipating for a moment – how dare these men come into his home and cause such a mess. His hand balled into a fist, and he took the moment to throw a punch.

“And I said I don’t know anything, now leave.” He swung his fist, shocking the attacker just long enough to clip the man’s cheek. But before he could follow up, he felt two arms grab him tight from behind. The other bounty hunter. But Trelawny was determined: They had made it clear that he wasn’t getting out of this unscathed whether he cooperated or not.

He brought his elbow up and swung it back in a short, sharp motion- aiming to do as much damage as possible to the gut before he used his elbow and upper arm as the pendulum to swing his fist down into a more sensitive area. The bounty hunter yelped, releasing him.

A glint in the light caught his eye, his cane! A weapon he could get! He made a move for it, pulling it up and swinging down hard with the intent to end this quickly against the man who was doubled over in pain.

Then, there was nothing.

_______

“Then the idiot went after Davey and I grabbed one of the vases and smashed it over his head,” the bounty hunter lit his cigarette and brought it to his lips, “Dropped like a rock.”

“But he didn’t say anything?”

“Not a damn thing,” the man grumbled.

Well, that all certainly explained his splitting headache. He felt the dirt on his cheek, from his face having been in it for who knew how long. But the rest of his body didn’t seem to be responding. Not wanting to alert his new… friends that he was awake, but needing to check his situation, he slowly tried to move his limbs. All he found though was his wrists bound tight together as well as his ankles. Oh, if there was ever a time he wished for the gang to show up from one of their misadventures it would be now.

“Hey, George,” a third bounty hunter spoke to the first, “Look, your friend.”

And then all eyes were on him, and he knew he couldn’t play dead any longer. The bounty hunters eyeing him from their lean-to as he struggled in vain on the ground. ‘George’ gave him a grin, a sickening grin that told Trelawny nothing good was in his future. However futile struggling was, that look made Trelawny only try to free himself faster. It was no use of course, the man stepped over him, straddling him as he pulled his head up off the ground by the throat.

“Good morning, partner,” he said, cruelty in every line on the man’s face.

“I’d brush my teeth if I were you, good sir. You might scare children like that-”

A hand came sharp across his face, “Shut up, fool. You’re in no place to talk to anyone like that.” His throat was gripped even tighter, and Josiah’s body began to panic for air. He could barely register as the man above him spoke.

“Where. Are. They? Where. Is. Dutch?”

“I don’t know any Dutch fellows.” If he wasn’t going to tell them before he certainly wasn’t going to now after they had been so rude and rough.

That wasn’t what he wanted to hear, “Dammit! I know you know!” The hand squeezed his throat tighter, and he felt himself gasping – fighting for air.

“Don’t kill him, George, or we’ll never get our answer. He just needs some more persuasion. Or maybe to be kept with us a little longer. If they find out we have him, they might send someone to get him back.”

“Think he’s worth somethin’ as bait?”

The hand relaxed on his throat and he gasped for air. Trelawny was less than soothed by that idea no matter that it bought him a few more minutes (hours? Days?) of life. He despised the thought of being bait for the Van der Linde gang. Sure, they exchanged favors of bailing each other out of sticky situations, but surely this would cross a line.

“So I can’t kill him but I can….”

Trelawny realized in that moment that he had let himself get distracted by thought, George had returned to his side. His eyes read nothing less than sadistic desire.

Whack! “Ahhh!” His legs dulled with the ache of great pain.

Whack! Pain shot through his side.

Whack! His shoulder screamed.

Each hit pulled a gasp from his lips. He caught a glimpse of the weapon – his cane. It came down on him again, and again.

“Hey, George! What’d we say? You’re going to kill him!”

“Fine by me!”

And then he saw the shine from the metal head of the cane as the shaft was swung down on him. He was out again.

_____

This time when he gained consciousness, he was sitting up. His arms tied still, his legs remained bound, and his vision blurred.

“There he is, good morning sunshine,” it was that George fellow again. Trelawny realized he didn’t have much voice left at all. His body weak, pain aching through every bone and every joint.

It was a time he could genuinely say he wished they would just kill him instead of continuing this treatment.

“Look, friend,” Davey knelt next to him, “We can let you go. Just tell us where they are. We can even give you some of the money. You know how much those guys are worth. You’d never have to work a day in your life again.”

Give him some of the money? Trelawny knew Dutch’s bounty was high. That would be no small sum but- no, how could he even entertain the idea? He might not have many morals, but he certainly had friends.

“I don’t… I don’t know… who you- you’re talking about-”

“BULLSHIT,” George was back in the scene. He kicked over Trelawny’s chair and the man fell to the hard, filthy cabin floor with a hard thud. Before he could gather his bearings once more a sharp foot made contact with his gut. The foot pulled back to go at him again.

“Whoa, George! Relax. We’ll make him talk yet. C’mon, I got an idea,” and Davey gave George a glance. A knowing glance. One that Trelawny was not happy to see them exchanging. He felt himself being yanked up by his arms, each touch hitting a point of injury sending shockwaves through his body and eliciting a cry from his lips. “Let’s get you out of here, come on boy.”

“The thing is,” George spoke as they began to pull the man out of the small cabin and down the steps, “after that shack, this will be remembered like a good time.”

“Put the man down, gentleman.” And then there was the click of two guns.

Trelawny could barely focus long enough to feel the relief wash over him in a tidal wave. That voice. Oh, that dear voice. That sweet voice. George left his side, and then Davey dropped him to the ground. It was another hard fall, but he was so filled with that joyous relief that he barely registered the pain. He wasn’t even sure if the tears in his eyes were from pain or relief – most likely both.

Feet entered his field of vision, a knife too – but any fear was dissipated when he realized it was none other than Charles. Another of Dutch’s loyal knights.

“That the lot of them?”

“I… I think so.” His hands were freed in an instant. His wrists red from chafing as he pushed himself up to a sitting position.

“So, you’re alive.” Arthur knelt by him with another knife, getting to work on the binds on his ankles.

“Allegedly.”

“Well, don’t worry. They won’t be for much longer.” Those words sparked that desire for revenge in Trelawny’s heart. Those bastards who broke into his home, kidnapped him, tortured him, and threatened his friends. He had no strength left but he had enough anger to help himself out of his own leg binding.

“Go get them, Arthur. I can handle this.”

Arthur met his eyes, and Trelawny took the second to drink in that familiar, gentle face. The man who was ruthless when necessary, but who had always been a kind – if a little sad – soul to Trelawny. Arthur seemed to be checking with Trelawny, to make sure he would sincerely be alright should he go off to stop the bounty hunters. In response, Trelawny waved his hand – urging Arthur onward. Not just for that desire of revenge either, should those bounty hunters escape they would escape with far too much information. They had to be dealt with accordingly.

In the next moment, Arthur had taken off to the fields. Gunshots rang out. Arthur and Charles will both be fine, he kept telling himself as he struggled to free his ankles. It would be easier if his hands weren’t having such trouble gripping things. Each movement made his body cry in pain, but at least… at least he was safe.

The rope around his ankles became slack after another moment of finicking. The gunshots were still echoing and Trelawny could only hope his friends were not on the receiving end.

Well, he couldn’t just wait here on the ground. In the dirt. His clothes were already filthy, his white shirt had blood stains on it, his beautiful vest simply torn to shreds. Lord only knew what his face looked like. His hair must be an utter mess. He would simply die of embarrassment should they return to him whining on the ground.

He tried to put a hand on the ground to push himself up to his feet, but his elbow buckled under his weight. Pain shot through the arm. His legs told him too we’re not standing. There was a chair on the patio of the small cabin, if he could just make it there he could take a seat like somewhat of a refined gentleman as opposed to a dirt dweller like he was now.

It took him longer than he’d like, and he had more crawled over the dirt than walked, but he found himself able to climb into the chair, letting himself finally take in a moment of peace despite the pain. Arthur is here. Charles is here. And because he had kept his mouth shut this time, he could look them in the face with dignity.

“Mr. Trelawny, where are you?”

He nearly felt the tears threaten again. That voice brought with it so much relief, he wasn’t sure he could ever explain to Arthur just how much it meant to him. Especially in that moment. And that was for no lack of intelligence on the other man’s part, Trelawny knew the man was quite prolific. Dutch and Hosea would have it no other way. “Over here, dear boy!”

“Put your feet up, why don’t you?” Arthur came into view on the hill, the words harsh and teasing but nothing that Trelawny would imagine taking offense to. And as Arthur approached, he could see his face soften and he could hear that kindness in his voice, “You okay?”

“Never finer.” Yes, this outlaw had probably just killed a small handful of other men. However, he had done it out of desire to protect his friends. And Trelawny was just glad that he was in that category. Trelawny tried to stand up, but pain brought him back into his chair.

“So, who was they?” The important question. Josiah couldn’t blame him for wanting to cut right to the chase. The man’s hand was gentle on his back, the other at his arm in quiet support.

“They were bounty hunters, ah, attached to Cole Stoudemire,” that was what they had told him at that camp long ago.

“Okay.”

“They weren’t looking for me, per se.”

“No…” Arthur quietly confirmed the unsaid part. They wanted you, Arthur. They wanted Dutch. “What you tell ‘em?”

Another important question. And one Josiah was glad he could answer with pride, “Not much. I… told them I was an intellectual come down here from Oregon…” He let Arthur steer him towards the horse, accepting his and Charles’ help to mount. He tried to grip the saddle, tried to pull himself up, but he knew he was fooling none of them: he had no energy, no strength left. “…looking for a job at the university. Course, they didn’t believe me. Seems you stirred up quite a hornet’s nest in Blackwater.”

“So I keep hearing.” Arthur backed slowly away from the horse, as though making sure that Trelawny could remain upright.

Josiah met his eyes once more, a little embarrassed by his own need to request yet even more from the gang. But it was how things had to be. “It might be best if I stay with you gentlemen for a while. Can’t go back to that caravan now.”

Not even a moment to think about it passed before Arthur nodded in agreement.

“Alright, Charles, you take Trelawny back to camp. I’ll catch up with you.”

“Okay.” And Charles moved his horse on, Trelawny following close behind. Their previous rides together had been full of Josiah’s stories, thoughts, and ideas. But this ride was different, it was quiet. Trelawny was lost in thought, energy spent with none to spare on a façade. And Charles’ silence was reassuring in its own right.

The bounty hunters had been dealt with. Josiah had been rescued. There would be time to worry about everything else, time to tell Dutch everything he had learned. Time to pay back the gang for saving his life. For now though, the hooves of the horses and the whistling of birds the only sound for miles, there was just time enough for peace.

[nowoyas]

Bread and Brownies

Requester: @birds-have-teeth​

A/N: Thank you so much for the request, love! I had a bit of fun with this one <3 I’m sorry it’s so short though aaaaaaaaaa I tried to find anywhere I could add more and I thought it would actually suffer if I tried to add more than this fic needed and I ;-; I’m sorry I love u

Warnings: some eggs were harmed in the making of this fic, some suggestive text but nothing spicier than pepper

Word Count: 1600+

~

"I think you look better like this, I dunno."

Izuku lets out an indignant gasp at the accusation. "And here you were saying I looked perfect before."

You giggle, turning back to the recipe with an eye roll. "Well, yes, but I hadn't seen you in an apron before." You toss your head over your shoulder, winking. "It's a good look for you, hon."

The apron in question is simple, understated. The main part of it is a smooth forest green that matches Izuku's hair, with black straps wrapping around his waist and shoulders and a baby blue pocket over his chest. It's a classic—in looping cursive on his chest reads "kiss the cook", but what makes it so perfect, however, is the smallest personal touch—the shoulder strap is held on by two white clasps in the shape of rabbit heads. The touch is subtle, but you can't help but mentally squeal at how cute he looks.

"Well, maybe I should wear it more often, then," he teases. "Oh, please." You pop up on your tip-toes, kissing him on the nose before shoving a bowl into his arms. "Less flirting, more mixing. You're the big, strong man, mix this up for me while I get out the other ingredients."

"Are we seriously making box mix brownies for your work party?" he asks with a roll of his eyes as he begins mixing the batter.

You snort. "No, the box mix is just the first step. The brownies aren't the show-stopper here, it's what we're putting on them."

"I still can't believe that you tricked us for years into thinking your godlike brownies are just Godiva brand, box mix brownies," Izuku says dramatically, lazily moving the spoon about the bowl.

"They're good, idiot. And the brownies are just an avenue for the good part, which is made from scratch."

"Box mix. My beautiful, wonderful girlfriend makes box mix brownies."

"Izuku, I will literally give you the softest hair known to man if you don't shut up about my family brownie recipe," you tease.

"First I'm not already perfect, and now you're telling me all those compliments on how soft my hair was were lies? Et tu, [name]?" His eyes are covered by his arm as he drapes it over his forehead dramatically.

You raise a single egg in your hand threateningly. "One more word and I crack it on your head."

He's silent for a long moment, meeting your playful glare with his own challenging glint. "How long am I supposed to mix this for?"

"Combined, but not smooth. We love the lumps in this house." You relax your posture a bit, setting the eggs back in their bowl and going back to collecting ingredients for the other things you've planned to bake today.

"Got it. How's this?" He tilts the bowl towards you, crossing your kitchen to lift the spoon out of the batter and show its consistency. You're satisfied with the consistency, but just in case, dip a finger in to taste. The minute your finger's in your mouth and you've nodded your approval, he slowly sets the bowl and spoon on the counter. "...also, you can try to crack an egg in my hair, but that's assuming you can reach it, box mix."

You squawk, reaching for an egg and scrambling after him as he bolts. "Izuku! That's it, get back here! I'll climb you like a tree if I have to!"

Laughter rings through the apartment as you chase Izuku, wielding an egg threateningly in one hand.

"No, no!" he calls over his shoulder. "I give, I give! Just spare me from your eggs-ecution, angel!"

You freeze, nearly dropping your weapon as you try hard not to double over in laughter. "I can be persuaded to let you off, this time, for a fee."

"What fee could I possibly pay in exchange for my life?"

You hum, eyeing him mischievously. "I think you know what I take as bribes by now." You carefully slip the egg into your apron pocket to put away later.

"Remind me?" he says innocently. You roll your eyes and tug him towards you, sealing your lips over his in a sweet, slow kiss. There's a suspicious hint of brownie batter on his lips, and when you pull back, you raise an eyebrow at him.

"Have you been stealing batter when I wasn't looking, mister?"

He grins innocently. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh, I'm sure you don't. Such an upstanding hero would never lie to me or steal brownie batter." You smile and turn away to go pour the batter into the pan. 

Izuku joins you not long after, wrapping both arms around you from behind and snuggling his face into the back of your neck. "I'm so glad you trust me, sweetheart."

"Yes, yes, I'm very loving and trusting," you tease. "Let me go so I can put this in the oven, dork."

"Nooo," he whines. "You're so huggable. Don't wanna let go."

"Oh my god, you are the worst baking partner. I'm never asking you to join a baking marathon with me again."

"But [naaaaaame]~" he whines into your ear before letting you go. "I love youuuuu." God, you can hear the pout in his voice. 

"I love you too." You roll your eyes with a goofy smile before leaning down to slide the brownie pan in. "Come on, I promised you I'd teach you to make my favorite bread, and if you behave, we can get the first proof started before the brownies are out. Can you set the timer for me, baby? Fifteen minutes."

He nods, determination flashing in his eyes. "We're gonna work together so well you'll have to ask me for help next time." 

You giggle. "Alright, alright, I get it. Let me know when the timer's set."

Izuku salutes you with a grin before dutifully setting about his assigned tasks. The rest of the baking goes as smoothly as it can–amid soft laughter, teasing jokes, and the occasional errant smear of flour, both the brownies and the bread are the best you've ever made them.

~

Bonus:

Later, when the smell of bread wafts through your apartment and the brownies are somehow successfully iced and cooling (despite your goofball's best efforts), you come up behind Izuku, wrapping one arm around him in a soft hug. "Thank you for helping me bake today, Izu."

If a man could purr, he would be. You press a gentle kiss to his back, giggling when you can feel the vibrations as he speaks. "Thanks for teaching me how to make your signature recipes."

Your eyes lock on their target as he speaks, readying yourself as your hand slowly inches toward its goal. "Mhmm. You'll never use the knowledge against me, right baby?"

He chuckles, wriggling around to turn in your arms. You panic, but it's far too late to abort the mission—you pop up on your tip-toes and pull him into a kiss before he can see what you were about to do. He smiles into the kiss, hands landing on your waist and pulling you closer. You peek one eye open to aim for the prize, and finally, finally, it cracks.

Izuku yelps when the first feeling of cold and wet seeps through his hair, yanking himself back in surprise. "Did you actually—[name]!"

In your heart of hearts, you know you should run while you can. Izuku's fast even without his quirk, but if you're quick and act while he's still processing, you can get away. So you bolt, expertly maneuvering your way around your furniture, and you're about to make it into the bathroom to hide when your feet go out from under you and you shriek as Izuku lifts you off your feet effortlessly. 

"You are gonna pay for that," he growls playfully, carrying you into the bathroom and kicking the door shut behind him. He tilts his head forward, and you whine as the egg you'd cracked onto his head slides off and plops onto yours, the yolk breaking from the force of the landing.

"Zukuuuuu," you whine, writhing in his arms as the egg seeps into your hair. "whyyyyyyy?"

He giggles, carefully setting you down. "Now you have to join me in getting cleaned up."

"I would've joined you anyway, jerk!" You roll your eyes as you untie your apron, desperate to get out of your clothes before you have to wash egg out of them. 

"I couldn't take that chance." He looks so damn smug, and god, you'd love to wipe that grin off his face, but you're more worried about stripping at present.

"Hate you," you grumble as you yank your shirt off. You yelp when arms circle your waist from behind, tugging you close as a warm kiss is placed on an egg-free section of your head.

"Love you too, my sweet little box mix."

The moment is sweet for about two seconds. Pretty much up until the moment a drop of egg white drips down onto your now-bare chest, eliciting a shriek at the cold, gross sensation.

"Okay, okay, moment over," you complain, forcing yourself out of your boyfriend's vice grip. "You can be cute when we're in the shower, egghead."

"Mhmm, and you can apologize for cracking an egg in my hair while we're there," he replies, raising a daring eyebrow at you before he strips down, himself. 

You climb in the shower after him, and true to both of your words, he is cute while you're working the egg out of his hair, and you do, in fact, apologize. Whether or not that apology is, how one might say, proper, well, it's one that Izuku accepts wholeheartedly, and isn't that what really matters, in the end?

All Works Taglist: @tooloudarts​ @sapid-rose​ @xxangelpridexx​ @icythotsenpai​@warmchoccymilk​ @wesparklebitch​ @izoodles​ @fujimoribaby​ @my-bnha-things​

[bumbleberrysky]

alexa, play candyshop (bass boosted) | 03

pairing: gabriel x reader genre: soulmate au, canon divergent around s13, hurt/comfort, humour, future smut (probs) wc: 3.7k rating: sfw warnings: none really

You knew there was a reason some divine power brought you to the Winchesters all those years ago, but to this day you still have no idea what that reason is. It’s something you’re destined to find out soon though, especially when you return to the bunker after months away and find not only a new face, but one that belongs to someone who up until that point you’d thought was dead. What does his return have to do with the changes you’re suddenly experiencing in yourself? Will you finally find out the reason you’d been brought here in the first place? Maybe…

Chuck works in mysterious ways after all.

prev. || next

“Well, whatever it says, we’re gonna have to wait until Cas and Dean get back before we can decipher it.”

You huff, sparing a glance to the angel huddled in the corner, resting his head against the drawers beside his bed. It’s been a few days since you’d first come back and you wish you could say you’ve had all sorts of good progress with Gabriel, but the truth is that you haven’t. He has receded so far into himself that a part of you is actually worried the archangel you knew is gone completely.

“I’m a bit worried,” you admit quietly to Sam after a moment. He turns his gaze to you and you hold it. “He’s… he’s worse than I thought.”

And, put bluntly, you’d thought he was bad.

Sam doesn’t say anything, merely releases your gaze and turns to survey the room once more; the walls are plastered in a scrambled mess of what you can only guess is enochian. You’re not sure when Gabriel had the chance to do it, but you know that earlier you’d visited him to offer him a portion of his grace back and he’d refused, so you’d left and when you returned some time later the walls were like this.

“Did Dean say when they were going to be getting back?” you ask, wringing your hands.

“He didn’t respond to my text, so I can only assume he’s driving.” Sam huffed a laugh. “Cas forgot to charge his phone again so I can’t reach him either.”

You purse your lips, trying not to smile. Of course, it is the little things that Castiel forgets. Like that wireless technology needs charging, that Beyonce is too well known to be used as a cover name, and those straws that don’t always come with fast food drinks.

You’re about to speak when the faint sound of metal hitting metal echoes through the bunker, heavy footsteps on steel stairs following suit.

“Well, I guess that saves us asking,” you say, patting Sam on the arm as you move past. The two of you depart Gabriel’s room, sparing him one last concerned glance before you close the door behind you.

“I’m home! And I brought food!”

Yeah, that’s definitely Dean. You just hope Castiel came in with him so he can see his brother and read the scribble on the walls.

x     x

 The scribble, as Castiel informed you, is a thrilling account of Gabriel’s Story, so to speak. What happened to him after his so-called ‘death’, and you tuned out for a fair amount of it (mostly during the detailed recount of time spent with porn-stars in Monte Carlo) but heard the important bits, like how he was traded in to Asmodeus and what the Prince of Hell then proceeded to do to him for the years following.

It saddened you, despite it being largely something you already suspected if not knew.

After listening to Castiel read the enochian on the walls, you’d had to leave. Uncharacteristic of you, and Dean had given you an odd look as you passed him in the hallway, but you couldn’t spend another minute in there. You felt bile rising to the back of your throat.

You really don’t have an explanation for why you’re reacting so strongly, so viscerally, to everything that has to do with Gabriel. Like you’d affirmed earlier, you only really met and interacted with him a handful of times! You aren’t close with him, haven’t known him extensively—

So why do you have this gaping pit of loss and grief in your stomach, like you’ve lost a limb?

It doesn’t make sense, and you’re not sure if you can make it make sense, honestly. You’d like to be able to put it on the backburner too, but every time you try it just creeps its way back to the forefront of your mind. In a bid to distract yourself, you hole yourself up in your room for the rest of the day, marathoning whatever dumb show is on TV. If you’re lucky, the entertainment channel might have old reruns of Neighbours. That never fails to make you laugh with its exaggerated soapy drama.

To your disappointment, the only thing playing in a marathon fashion is Family Guy, and with a sigh you bundle up in your covers and resign yourself to the afternoon. Well, if you wanted to numb your brain then this result isn’t so bad after all.

You spend the rest of the afternoon in your room, and pass out at some indiscernible hour. When you wake next, it’s a ridiculously early hour of the next morning and the TV is still running. You have a cramp in your neck from your odd sleeping position, and you rub it with a scowl as you emerge from the blankets and turn off the TV. You slept way too long, and there’s no way you can get back to sleep now.

Begrudgingly, you slip from your bed and into a standing position, relishing in the stretch you feel as you lengthen your tight, tense limbs. The floor is cold against your feet but you’re too lazy to search for the slippers that came with your room and instead just go on your way. Destination: kitchen.

You feel like a ghost, wandering the silent halls of the bunker. Dean is most definitely passed out by this point, and Sam… well he’s probably asleep, but you wouldn’t bet on it. That psychopath could also be out jogging. You’re so zoned out that you don’t even realise you’ve reached the kitchen until you stub your toe on the doorframe.

“FUCK!” you curse, managing to restrain yourself from howling like a lunatic just barely, at the last second. You double over, heaving in a big breath. Of course it had to be the little toe—

“y/n? Are you alright?”

The low, gravelly tone that brushes your ears is familiar and always welcome. You stick your thumb up so Castiel doesn’t worry while you grasp your bearings. When you find your voice, you follow up the gesture with a squeaky, “Fine! Peachy.”

“I would remind you that I can tell when you are lying, but I don’t think you aimed to be very believable.”

You straighten, throwing Castiel a bright smile despite the pain still throbbing in your foot. You should have looked for the slippers—this is your hubris catching you slipping.

“Sorry Cas, I shouldn’t be sarcastic. I’m fine, but I think one of these days I’m gonna break my toe for real on that stupid doorframe.”

Unfortunately, this isn’t your first run-in with the doorway. If anyone asked, you would tell them that the design of the hallway is atrocious and that door is not where it’s meant to be. Well, it’s not where you expect it to be every time you come to the kitchen, and is clearly an obvious design flaw.

The angel lets out a soft noise of understanding, lips twitching in the ghost of a smile. “Perhaps. You don’t seem to have very good luck with doorframes.”

“Nope, I definitely do not,” you respond, shaking your foot out before moving over to the fridge and checking to see if Dean bought strawberries. A noise of delight escapes you as you find what you’re looking for, several punnets stacked in the back corner. Ah, and they say old dogs can’t learn new tricks—Dean is a very good learner with the proper motivation!

(Pavlov would be proud of you.)

Castiel has a smile on his face as he watches you remove one of the punnets, hopping up onto the bench facing him and flicking the plastic open. He approaches, movements fluid and calm, and for a few moments you sit in comfortable silence. He is the first to break it.

“y/n… are you alright?” At his repeated question you give him a confused look, and he hurries to elaborate. “I mean… with everything. With Gabriel. I noticed how you left, yesterday.”

Ah. Well, you knew that you hadn’t been subtle, but you hadn’t been sure whether anyone was going to question you on it. You munch on a berry as you think, gaze flicking to the side. You wouldn’t dream of telling Sam or Dean about the odd sensations you’d been feeling, despite the fact they knew how you’d reacted to the news of Gabriel’s death, but Castiel… you felt comfortable confiding this in him.

“Well… yes, and no.” You drop the top of the strawberry into the lid of the punnet and reach for another. “To be honest, I don’t really understand what is going on with me. It’s like… super overactive empathy. It just hurts, to see him that way. And it makes me sad, knowing what he went through. Painfully so.”

Castiel nods, light eyes on you as he listens attentively and with care. You chew through another two berries before continuing. “Hearing it straight from him—well, as straight from him as it could be, I suppose—it just got to be a bit much for me. I had to leave. It just… made me feel a bit sick, is all.”

The look on the angel’s face is pensive, and it’s as though you can see his mind whirring a mile a minute behind the sky of his eyes. “I see,” he murmurs, gaze flicking to the side as he thinks. “Well, you are a very kind soul, so I am not surprised by your empathy. Though, if it is affecting you so strongly…”

He pauses, eyes finding your own again. “If you feel ill again, come find me. I’ll help as much as I can.”

You smile at him, every moment as sincere as you’ve ever been. “Thanks, Cas. I really appreciate it.”

x     x

Sam must have done or said something to Gabriel while you were locked up in your room, because there seemed to be a sudden change in his progress.

For the better, you think. Well, you hope.

He was a little less withdrawn, a little less manic and fidgety. He still doesn’t really speak, and doesn’t react well to loud noises or sudden movements, but Sam told you he had spoken last night.

To correct him about calling the Monte Carlo porn-stars ‘hookers’, of course. You’d wanted to slam your head into the tile wall when you’d heard that.

The day passed quickly after your encounter with Castiel, and you spent it cleaning and polishing your weapons—you don’t want to go down as that one stupid hunter whose greatest folly was improper upkeep of her arsenal. Only when you’d polished your machete to a gleaming shine did you admit that it was likely time for a break. You thought it had only been a few hours, so when you wandered out and found that it was actually almost dinner time, you’d been pretty surprised.

Sam had run into you in the hallway and filled you in, and afterwards had insisted on accompanying you to the kitchen. It seems you spend a lot of your time there, now you think about it.

The large, industrial-feeling space is where you find yourself now, making a lazy stir-fry from pre-packaged vegetables and beef. You’d tasked Sam with cooking the rice since he’d insisted on lingering for conversation, and since you trust that he’s more capable than his brother you don’t bother checking on his progress.

“Castiel was worried when he first saw Gabriel, but after seeing the writing he’s happy because it means the Gabriel we know is still in there, somewhere.” Sam updates you from your side, sniffing and peering into the wok before you in mild interest. “That smells good. You sharing?”

“Maybe,” you answer him, giving him a sly look. “Depends… you got any of that guilt-free ice cream hiding in the freezer?”

Sam peers around to make sure his brother isn’t listening before nodding, “Back corner, behind the frozen berries. We got a deal?”

“Pleasure doing business with you, young Winchester,” you answer with a shake of his hand, putting on an accent for his benefit. He snorts, moving away to grab two bowls—good timing, you have to note, since the stir-fry is almost done. “Kind of sad you still have to hide it from Dean, though.”

“Are you kidding? He has a nose like a bloodhound for sweets,” Sam says, coming back with porcelain in tow. “Did I ever tell you about the time he found an industrial-size bag of Hershey’s kisses I bought? I hid it in the vents in the dustiest corner of the library, and he still found it. That was meant to last me months and he tore through it in a week.”

You blink, mildly impressed. You knew he had a sweet tooth but you didn’t know it was that bad. “Dude, get your brother some therapy.”

Sam snorts, muttering something about how it would be easier to herd cats and juggle at the same time. You’re distracted for the moment by an errant thought that filters across your mind at the mention of chocolates.

Gabriel, in his time spent as a trickster, developed quite the soft spot for them… could it…?

You stir the food before you once more before taking the wok off the heat, moving it to the wooden chopping board on the bench; Sam takes initiative and turns off the stove behind you, something you’re thankful for.

You’ll have to test your theory after dinner.

x     x

The chocolates and candies you’d left for Gabriel after you’d had your dinner are, to your delight, gone the next time you see him.

You’d placed them on a tray for him outside the room and knocked, letting him know you had left him something. Of course, after that no matter how much you wished to stay you forced yourself to be on your merry way so he could retrieve them in peace. The rest of the night had been spent arguing with Dean about the proper name a werewolf-vampire hybrid should be called—not because you have an important opinion on the matter, of course, but because Dean gets very fired up about the subject and it’s very funny to behold.

Back to the point, when you’d returned on your trip past Gabriel’s room this morning (on your way to the kitchen, as anyone would expect), the tray had been placed neatly to the side with the wrappers twisted into the shape of a big, shiny bow. Kind of impressive, especially since you have no idea how he got them to stay stuck together like that.

It made you happy, though, that he’d eaten them. Angels don’t need to eat, of course, but he’d seemed to develop a taste for them ever since adopting the mask of Loki so you thought it might help make him feel a little more like himself.

You try not to think about it too much because it actually makes you a bit embarrassed— why are you so invested? You don’t quite want to know.

Currently, you’re settled in the library with your legs crossed and a tome on celestial beings in your lap. By your side is a plate of celery and a jar of peanut butter, and Dean, who is seated at the oak table with Castiel across from him, is giving you periodic looks of disgust and twisted curiosity. He’d started off attempting to read up on some monster—you suspected it was Werepires, after last night’s argument—while Sam popped off to the store for groceries, since Mary and Jack were meant to be returning tonight. The keyword to note here is attempting; each crunch of celery between your teeth yanks his gaze from the book to you and you can tell its wearing on him. Castiel says nothing, having discovered candy crush on his phone earlier, and merely glances between the two of you every now and then with a faint look of amusement.

“Alright,” He finally breaks after your third stick of celery, giving it a look like it personally offends him. “How can you eat that? Just use a spoon if you like peanut butter so much.”

“What the fuck, ew,” you comment, chomping loudly before dipping the stick into the jar for another coating. “I hate peanut butter.”

“You’re sitting there practically eating it out of the jar!”

“I get cravings sometimes, Dean!” you throw back, somewhat defensively. “It’s like when people eat vegemite—no one likes it, but you get cravings for it, you know?”

“What—ew, no, I don’t know!” Dean’s face has now crumpled into a complete look of disgust at the mention of that particular spread, and he shudders as he regards you. “Every time you leave I almost forget what a freak you are, and then you come back and I’m reminded all over again.”

The way he says it has no bite whatsoever, and you flash him a grin. You don’t realise Castiel has even been paying attention until he speaks, the humour lacing his deadpan tone the only give-away that he’s teasing.

“That wasn’t very nice, Dean. You eat some weird things for a human yourself—like that greasy, fried dessert from the stall in the food festival we drove through.”

Dean at first looks like he wants to argue, but at Castiel’s example a flush of green instead washes over his features. “Ugh, god that was gross. Don’t ever let me buy before I try at a food market again, Cas.”

Castiel snorts softly, turning back to his phone, “You have my word.”

Dean seems to have forgotten he was shaming you for your celery topping, his attention now directed back to the book before him. His face is still kind of pale and you assume he is now adequately distracted enough for you to continue eating in peace. After consuming the rest of the celery in your hold, you go to turn back to your own book. It isn’t meant to be, though, because in the next second the familiar sound of the heavy metal bunker door creaking open splits the air and Sam’s bright voice follows after.

“We’re back! We brought fried chicken.”

You slam the lid back on the peanut butter, putting it on the plate with the celery and launching to your feet in record time, the book unfortunate collateral. It’s like you’re possessed as you zoom into the kitchen, stomach alive and stirring at the mention of chicken despite the fact you’d already been eating.

Upon entry to the kitchen, you’re faced with two new people you have yet to be introduced to—considering you’re familiar with most of Sam and Dean’s other contacts by this point in your friendship, you presume that these two must be Jack and Mary, the Nephilim and the Winchester brother’s resurrected mother, respectively.

“Hello!” you greet, darting forward to help Sam with the food. He gives you a look that tells you he knows exactly why you’d come to help and gives you the bag full of groceries instead of the one with chicken, just to spite you. Your face falls into a pout but your voice is still cheery as you continue, “I’m y/n, I hunt with Dean off and on.”

Both of their faces light in recognition, and you realise that your reputation has preceded you. Exactly which reputation depends on which brother mentioned you—you imagine Dean would have had some very interesting comments to add.

“Hello,” the woman, Mary, speaks, and you’re taken aback by how soft-spoken she seems in contrast with the badass aura and get-up she’s got going on. You’re a little surprised to see her, considering she’s the same age as you presume she would have been when Sam was a baby. “I’m Mary, I’m sure you’ve heard about me. It’s a pleasure to meet you, and… thank you for looking after my boys over the years.”

You beam a grin and it must come across as a very shit-eating one because you hear Dean groan from the next room over as he ambles to join the crowd in the kitchen.

“Don’t encourage her,” he says gruffly as he enters the kitchen, hugging his mother and ruffling Jack’s hair before following his nose to the bag with the chicken in it. “She’ll never let it go.”

“I’m Jack!” Your attention is torn from the previous interaction and redirected to the youthful blonde man next to Mary, grinning at you brightly. “I’ve heard so much about you—it’s nice to finally meet you!”

“Oh, you’ve heard about me?” you can’t help yourself from asking, and you hear Dean’s groan echo behind you. “All good things, I hope.”

It’s a little unfair of you to be fishing in the Jack pond for little tidbits you can use to bully Dean later, considering he’s literally barely a year old and doesn’t really know better to keep his mouth shut, but it is what it is. The question left you out of habit more than anything.

“Oh, definitely,” Jack answers, going to help Mary the second he sees her struggle with a bag from the corner of his eyes, “Well, mostly. Dean—”

“Okay, that’s enough!” Dean interrupted loudly and pointedly, not-so-subtly holding his finger to his mouth to tell Jack to shut it. “Dinner time! Everyone into the library, we have a lot to catch up on.”

Begrudgingly you let it go and follow his directions. He has a point; there is definitely a lot of informing to be done, especially regarding the archangel in the room down the hall.

You take a seat and wait for your meal to be served. The night passes quickly from that point on, the brothers cracking out some beer and Dean snickering when you turn your nose up at it (bad experience, better not to remember it). You get to know Mary Winchester and Jack Kline a little better, and now with all of your heads put together you hope you can come up with a solution to the issues around Gabriel and his recovery.

Well, that and you’re going to see if you can get some good material out of Mary to tease the brothers with. When in Rome, after all!

prev. || next.

[neverendingstories00]

Past The Point Of No Return (Ch.4)

Summary: Safin grows Impatient with you as you reject his romantic advances. Taking advice from his right-hand man, he whisks you off of the island for an intimate weekend getaway.

Word Count: 6.4K

Warnings: Minor mentions of PTSD, amputation, and drug use. 

A/n: Ik I promised this yesterday, I’m so sorry if this is a day late. School got a little crazy. We’re starting our real work tomorrow but I promise ya’ll I’m going to make sure this keeps coming. Also, this chappie is going to talk about Safin’s origins (scarpin the surface btw). I have simply specluated about his orgins (thanks to reddit). But once again, Thank you for all of your support Hope y’all enjoy❣️😌

Previous Chapter | Masterlist 

No matter how many times Safin told you were a guest that it was your lair now, you still felt like a prisoner. Safin claimed you were a bird trapped in a cage he had freed, but you still felt trapped. You were free to roam around the Submarine Pen as you pleased. Every corner there was a guard who would stare at like you were from another planet or Safin would find you and accompany you If he wasn’t busy trying to push Europe into a civil war. All you wanted to be was alone with your thoughts. No matter what, you always felt like you were being watched.

Your sanity was beginning to break as you had been on Safin’s island for a month. Some days went by fast while others had dragged on. Safin, seeing your boredom, understood you wanted something to keep you busy. His intention wasn’t to keep you only for marriage, but as someone, he could work by. You were useful in many ways, whether it be on the field or at a computer. So he had given you codes to encrypt for his new bases around Europe. As much as it made you feel guilty for helping Safin, you truly had no choice but to unfourenlty comply. One wrong move and the last bit of family you had left would be gone. Everyday you thought about M16. You had been there for four years and considered some of your co-workers to be family, even Bond (who could be irritating at times). When you encrypted codes, all you could think about was how you possibly let the double oh’s all die because of a foolish mistake. Safin had nerve giving you the job, but with your family being mentioned, all you could do was do what you were told. He had been generous enough to let you range shooting and even had let you teach some of his men how to properly shoot.

Every night, whether it was at dinner or when Safin would knock at your door to bid you good night, he would ask that same damn question you hated.

“Do you love me?”

Your response was always “no”. For as long as you could, you wanted to refrain from marrying Safin. The thought of being married to someone such as himself truly scared you. Having to lay in the same bed and consummate with Safin was haunting to any normal human. Yet the reason you were there was that Safin had an unhealthy obsession with you. Safin seemed like the type of man who would want to have his way with a woman, but he never forced himself upon you once. Sure he had touched your hair or (forcefully) made you hold his arm, but you rather would to deal with that.

One time, Safin had knocked on your bedroom door to say goodnight to you with a gift in hand. It was a beautiful gold necklace with a ring. Safin had placed it on your neck. You’d never forget the way he stood behind you, admiring your body and plush lips. “That necklace will look beautiful when we get married,” He whispered into your ear. You tried to take it off, but he had locked the clasp. The ring was a constant reminder that you were his even if you weren’t married.

Another time was when you were hiding in the gardens from Safin. He had found you and asked what you had been doing. You said you had been gardening since some of the plants had been dying. It seemed like a nice moment between you two as he asked about the type of flowers that resided in the garden. As you walked by blue Hydrangeas, he calmly stated, “Those would look good at our wedding, wouldn’t they y/n?”

Safin was delusional if you thought you were going to marry him right away. You had only known him a month, cringing at the fact that he loved you, but marriage? It all seemed like it was taken out of an overdramatic soap opera. Marriage would be a last resort if he truly threatened your family. You didn’t care about the gifts and attention he was showing you. Knowing that man was possibly responsible for your friends’ and families’ deaths disgusted you. All you wanted to be was alone, enjoying the small bit of freedom you had left. Away from a monster who considered you his bride.

-----

Serrano had noticed Safin’s obsession with y/n immetidly after Athens. Ever since she not only killed (but removed the expolsive lenses on an atomic bomb), Safin knew he needed her. Serrano had originally thought it was for business but soon learned Safin wanted her as his and his only. He would never say it to Safin’s face, but he pited the poor girl who was forced to love him. Y/n wasn’t some receptionist, but a markswoman with a kill count of over a hundred men. She was also the only person that ever talked back, even sassed, Safin. If one of his soldiers had done that, they would be dead within seconds since Safin had a short temper. But y/n had managed to live (somehow). The last romance Safin was involved in had endly so horribly that he ruined his career as an assassin and was forced to relocate. The last thing Serrano wanted to happen was to see a dead girl. He knew Safin better than anyone else did. Safin was a mysterious man that was unpredictable. But he was determined and would do anything to get what he wanted, whether it be bringing agencies to there knees or marrying a woman who didn’t love him back.

Walking through the hallways, Serrano towered over Safin. Just before there meeting, he saw Safin enter the gardens that he had made for the cyrptographer. He then walked up, seeming annoyed and pissier than usual. The anarchist was stressing over the fact that a woman he truly loved more than anything didn’t love him back. According to Safin, he was going to ask if y/n loved him every night until she said yes.

“Is everything alright, sir?” Serrano asks as he walks down the hallway.

Safin looks up at him, sighing. “Not quite. Y/n is beginning to get on my nerves. She doesn’t appreciate how much I have sacrificed for her. All I ask is for to be my wife and nothing more.”

Before losing his family, Serrano had been married to his university sweetheart. It took them three years to know and trust each other before they married. Safin wasn’t the best with emotions. He was impatient and demanded things to happen. But y/n’s being the woman she was, it didn’t seem like it was going to happen anytime soon.

“You were married,” Safin noted. “How did you get your wife to love you?”

“Patience, honesty, and respect,” Serrano replied. “It took us years before we married. You can’t rush love, it has to happen. You did take him from her home and threaten her family if you didn’t love her.”

“Yes, but it was the only way I could ever have y/n.” Safin tried to justify his actions. He had been hurt so many times over the years that he had become numb to other’s feelings and only thought of his own as important. “I give her gifts, clothing, a garden, and my heart yet all she ever does is scowl at me. I have tried everything I could with her. I was patient, and I’ve had enough.”

“If you want her to geniuenly love you then you cannot force it.” Serrano states. Safin huffed in response. He just wanted to skip past all of the difficulty and tell the world that you were his.

“I have an idea on how to get her to love you. It would be a start.”

Safin raises an eyebrow, nodding for Serrano to go on.

“I’m supposed to go with you to Mykonos this weekend for the shipment of weapons. But, what if y/n goes with you? I can set you up in a villa and even a private, romantic dinner. Take the girl shopping and get to know her better.” He proposes. Safin seemed to like the idea even if he was scared of the cyrotprgapher running off. Y/n had stated that she did need proper clothes that fit her.

“But I know everything I need to know about her.” He remarked.

“Well then tell her about yourself.”

“Y/n lacks interest in me.” The anarchist pointed. He didn’t want to talk about the past and let y/n know about his horrid past even if he had stalked every detail of her life.

“Safin, do you want her to love you or not?” Serrano reiterated. “It won’t happen immediately, but it’s a start. Don’t threaten her family and treat her as if she’s not a prisoner.”

“I have told her she is a guest! Once we marry, she will be the lady of this house.”

“You say that, yet don’t let her leave the island or have any contact with her family.” Serrano points out. Safin hated that he was right. He had a more stable romance than Safin had ever had in his life.

“What I am implying is make her feel like your a normal man taking your girlfriend on a romantic weekend trip.” He clarifies.

“She’s my fiance,” Safin corrects.

Serrano huffs in response. Stopping by the glass range door, the two men see Y/n shooting the pratice targets. Going through the packs of caliber, she had never missed the target once. He takes a glance at y/n before looking at Safin who is simply memroized by her.

“Just...offer it to her. Since you backed her into a corner, she’ll probably say this. But whatever you do, do not treat it like a deal. Treat it...like a normal date with your normal fiance.” With that. Serrano turned around the walked away to leave Safin and Y/n alone.

Safin walked into the empty range with the only occupant being y/n. She was dressed in a white shirt tucked into black cargo pants, aiming for the center of the target. Instead of standing, she curled down as if she were cuddling the weapon. Safin didn’t want to disturb her, watching her shift and fiddle with the trigger. Y/n hands were shaky and sweating, but with a deep breath, she released the trigger and let the bummer fly clean into the bullseye.

Resting the sniper rifle that was bigger then your body, you notice Safin’s eyes meet your form. Even with the noise-canceling headphones, you could tell it was him. Taking them off, you sighed as you wipe the sweat from your forehead. “Safin.”

“Y/n.” He responds, calm and cool. Offering his hand, you accepted it as he pulls up with no issue. Safin always wore bulky clothes that never revealed his form, but he was considerably strong. His hand wanted to hold yours, but you pulled away.

He looked over at the targets, seeing the bullet holes on the dummy. “It’s true. You truly do never miss.”

“That’s a lie.” You spat as you throw your kimono jacket back on. “Use to. Now I’m like a shaky camera.”

“You always doubt yourself, girl.” He grabbed your shoulders and turned you to the target. “My men could never do what you do. Your remarkable young women, truly.”

You shrugged his hands off and began walking towards the exit. “Thanks, I guess.”

“Wait, y/n,” He follows after you. Resiting an eyeroll, you spin on your heel and raise your eyebrows at him. You predicted that he was going to mention something about your appearance or the “wedding”.

“I have to leave the island this weekend for a small business trip. I was wondering if you would want to accompany me.” He offered. “It’s just for the weekend. I know you wanted to get some clothing, which I’m sure I could arrange for.”

“I thought you didn’t want me leaving this island.’ You replied, tying a belt around your jacket.

“You’re getting depressed. I thought you would enjoy a change of pace. But if not, that’s understandable.” Safin lamented as he walked past you. He had truly been looking forward to it. At that point, he had felt like giving up. There was no change y/n was going to fall in love with him, no matter what he did.

“Wait,” You reply, walking behind him. Gently tapping his shoulder, he turned to look into your [y/e/c] orbs. “I...would like to go with you.”

“You...would.”

“I mean, you offered it…” You awkwardly chuckled. If it was an escape off of the dreaded island, you would take it.

A smile appeared on his face as he grabs your hands, putting them to his chest. You looked surprised as your cheeks burn as you feel woozy looking into his milky orbs.

“I’m glad to hear it. We’ll leave first thing tomorrow morning,” Safin said as he lead you out of the shooting range and back to your chambers. He never let go of your hand and held it like you were a couple. In his eyes you were, in yours, you weren’t. But lately the thought had been haunting you. Safin didn’t seem he wanted to hurt you or keep you as a sex slave. As much as he knew about you, you knew little to nothing about him. He made sure you felt comfortable, even introducing you to his closest allies. If you had an issue, Safin was always on top of it. He had threatened to kill your friends and family if you didn’t love him back which still haunted you. But if you were to live your final days out, would it be the worse thing in the world. It wouldn’t be ideal, but it was better than being dead. “Shall I have the maids pack for you?”

“No, I’m fine. I can pack myself,” You nodded, a subtle smile your face. There wasn’t much for you to pack. You really wanted him to let go of your hand, but he still held on. His face looked like a boy with a schoolgirl crush (taken to the next level). “Thank you though.”

After he let go of your hand it moves up to the top of your head and gently pats it. “You’re ever so humble, my sweet.”

Seeing him walk off, you gently shut the door and look into the mirror. Your [y/s/c] skin is becoming grey, clothes careless, and overall look like you just came back from the dead. You were going on a weekend trip with an anarchist who created a romance in his head.

What the hell had gotten yourself into?

------

Like Safin had promised, the two of you left the next morning. None of his men, even Serrano, had come with him. You had no idea that you would be taking a luxurious sailing yacht to the mainland. Coming up from the cabin, you see Safin looking over the bright blue water and cloudless sky. Walking right beside him, he didn’t even bat an eye to your presence. Instead of his traditional kimono and lab outfit, he donned highwasted tan slacks, a long-sleeved navy button-down, sunglasses, and deck mules.

“What island are we going to?” You asked with your hands behind your back.

Safin didn’t look over at you. He was too distracted in his thoughts. Here he was, an infamous anarchist, worried about impressing a girl he’s keeping prisoner. Under his breath, he muttered,  “None of your concern.”

“So you think I’m going to leave you?” You smirk, crossing your arms.

Safin couldn’t make eye contact with you. He wants to say something, but he can’t. Nobody ever talked back to him, except her. His fear was being alone and abandoned all over again. “Yes, you’re a smart girl. Remember your…”

As he turned to say something to y/n, she was already gone with her perfume leaving a lingering scent.

“Place...” He finishes. He’s not speaking to anyone but the air. They hadn’t even arrived at the villa and it seemed like the trip was going to be disastrous. Safin had to think of a plan.

-----

Your boredom was beginning to grow. You arrived at the villa in the early afternoon. It was far from any form of civilization, located in the middle of a hillside. It was luxurious and modern but still kept the Ancient Greek feel. Even if you didn’t know the islands, you were confident that you were in or near the Medterrian. Safin had given you a tour of the villa, showing you the pool and private beach. He had business to deal with and promised to be back by sunset. Patting your head, he was off into town with every door locked but the backyard.

Returning from a brief swim, you notice the sun is beginning to set. It leaves the sky orange and lavender, creating a beautiful hue. Drying your hair against a towel, you’d noticed Safin had been acting rather odd. He seemed more distant and even anxious about being around you. Like a young boy trying to pronounce his love for his crush. Except that you were Safin’s fiance and he was holding you against your will. You didn’t care about the expensive gifts that he used to win you over. Over the years, you refused to focus on anyone but yourself. But if you were to be in a relationship, all you wanted was true and raw love. To be adored and truly cared about. You saw that Safin loved you, but what was his true purpose of keeping you there? Out of all of the women, he could have had, he chooses you; a cyrptographer. Your not Bond or a double oh and would never be near that category. Safin had given you attention that no partner in your life could have ever given to you. But he threatened you and kept you in a Submarine pen as his forced bride.

No. You couldn’t love a monster. Marrying him didn’t mean you loved him.

It was for Bond, Nomi, Q, [y/m/n], [y/s/n], all of the people you had let die because of a catostrophic mistake.

Walking into your pristine bedroom, you notice an item on the bed you hadn’t seen before. It was a dress and a white note with rose petals spread on the bed. You roll your eyes, sighing at Safin’s dramatic attempt at romance. This man knew that you weren’t going to sleep him with anytime soon. Picking up the note it read,

“Follow the candles

Down the beach

A gift for you and only you

See you at seven my dear y/n,

Safin”

Oh god! He had left a heart by your name. It was cheesy and cringey. His attempts at romance were a hit or miss. Looking at the dress on the bed it looked like it cost more than your life. It was a navy blue satin dress that was lowcut and backless. It was long and had a confident slip. The dress reminded you of what the female double oh’s would wear out on missions. Classy and quite sexy. The most revealing outfit you had worn to work as a skirt an inch above your knee with tights. Both of your legs always stay covered since you found them embarrassing, but they would somewhat exposed tonight. Then again, Safin’s face was horribly disfigured. He thought you were one of the most beautiful women he had laid eyes on (which you found hard to believe).

Putting on the dress, you head towards the bathroom to do your hair and look somewhat presentable. You had been dressing like a man for the past month and needed something refreshing. A few minutes later you had pieced together a simple, yet elegant look. You left your hair loose and applied a bit of mascara and eyeliner. To match with the navy blue dress, you applied a daring red lipstick. Instead of looking like a young boy, you appeared more of a nervous teenage girl preparing for a dance. The dangling pearl earrings you wore matched with the ring necklace Safin had gifted you. You had a strong belief he had chosen this outfit for you. Of course Safin would do something like that for you.

After you finished getting ready, you leave behind the villa and notice a trail of white candles leading you down to the beach. The beach is dark, but the candles guide you to the only visible light. You saw Safin as he paced around a candlelit table. He wore a short-sleeved olive button up and black dress pants.

Hearing the clicks of your sandals, Safin turned around to lay his eyes on y/n. All of his worries had suddenly gone away, breath taken by her sheer appearance. She was already beautiful in his eyes, but there was something that was different about her specifically tonight. The dress complimented her fit body well, showing a sliver of her thigh and cleavage. Your lips were a nice shade of red as it gave a pop of color to your outfit.

Safin snapped out of his thoughts and pulled himself together. He walked up to y/n to get a closer look and greet her. “Good evening Y/n,” Safin greeted. He grabbed her hand, leaving a kiss mark on her soft skin. “You look lovely, as always.”

“Thank you, Safin,” Y/n thanked, her voice low. She had never experienced such a romantic gesture before. “You look..nice.”

Nice. Nice. Nice.

Those words rung through his head. He nearly froze and almost mentally broke down. Y/n had complimented him. Not a sassy remark, but admired his appearance. Not once in his previous relationship did his ex-lover compliment the way he looked. He thought his face was too repellent to be complimented, let alone loved. But here was his fiance, shining like a bright star, boosting his ego.

Safin smiled in response, leading the cartographer to her chair and pushing her in. His hand tenderly finessed your bare shoulder. “Says the woman speaking.”

The two of you sat at the candlelit table on the beach. A waiter came over and poured the two of a class of red wine.

“So I’m assuming you weren’t doing business..” You remarked, taking a sip of the wine. It had been months since you’d had been drunk, which had let Q forcing you to enroll in therapy once again.

“I was. I’m bringing military smuggled weapons for the recruits. You are allowed to experiment with them if you please,” Safin said, “But I had planned this for the two of us. I wanted to give you the best since you deserve the best.”

You wouldn’t lie, the dinner was quite nice and romantic. What girl didn’t dream of being spoiled on the beach? Did Safin spoil you to slide away from the fact that you were his prisoner? It didn’t make any sense.

You huffed, looking down as you spun the wine in your glass around. “Why did you even bring me out here in the first place? To have your way with me?”

The anarchist furrowed an eyebrow, “Force me upon you? Y/n, I’m not as brutish as you believe me to be. I brought you here because I saw you...become dispirited. I know my island can void of all life. It pained me to see you in such a pained state. I thought a break from isolation and so called “retail therapy” would raise your spirits.”

“I wanted to bring you here since it was more intimate than the Submarine pen. I want you to feel...comfortable around me. You can deny as much as you want, but I know I unnerve you with my appearance.”

“The hell?” You puzzled, a little confused. There was no denying his scars were obvious. Seeing his arms and neck, they decorated his whole body. Upon first seeing them, you were taken aback. Nobody had ever seen his face except for you and his men. Was he truly insecure?

Safin looked into your sighs and sighed, “What I’m saying is that I know I make you uncomfortable. Here you are, a gorgeous young woman. What am I? A misshapen and hideous animal. If that’s the reason wh-”

“Ok, back it up,” You interrupted. “I never said those things about your appearance. Your face doesn’t bother me at all…”

“What do you mean?” Safin perplexed. His ex-lover hated his appearance and was afraid if they convevinced then the child would be just like this.

“Your face is fine the way it is. When I look you…” You’re at a loss for words, but gather yourself. “I see a..man. Not an animal, a man. Here..”

Getting up, you walk over to Safin and pull the slit of your scandalous slit to reveal your prosthetic. You had forgotten the skin slip, so it was more exposed than usual. Hating your leg, you always wore pants and socks to conceal a memory you wanted to lock away. Most of your leg had been spared except for everything below your knee.

Safin’s green eyes looked at your prosthetic, surprised. Your record never mentioned a prosthetic, nor did you. He knew about your time in the military but never knew why you had left for a desk job. “Your leg...I’m sorry. I never knew.” He apologized.

You shrugged before returning to your seat. “It’s not the worst. I could had lost my ability to walk, but I didn’t. I choose not to tell people. I rather have lost a limb than die.”

“If you mind me asking, Did you loose in it the battle?’

You nodded. “I was twenty-three, so around six years ago. Me and my team were on a sting operation in Iraq. It turned out to be a damn trap. Most of us had been caught off guard. A suicide bomber ran up to our captain and...everything went dark. I was stuck under the rubble for three days, I couldn’t feel anything below my waist. The only person who survived on my team was me and another man.”

“It was too traumatizing. I refused to be on the field. They discharged me and let me and my family with medical bills and a broken girl. After therapy, I went to study in Edinburgh and try to live somewhat of a normal life. I majored in Language and My don informed me about an opening proposition in London for M16. They needed a cyrtoprgapher, someone who could speak the military language. I knew a tad bit of coding, so I packed everything, and well, the rest is history. Now I’m here.” You casually explained. Over the years, losing your leg had become numb to you. You hated showing your emotions in front of other.

“You never told me. I’m sorry, I truly never knew about your leg.” He sounded sympathetic, not condescending. The only person at M16 that knew about your leg was Q, your closest friend.

Your shoulders loose there tension as your expression softens. Did Safin...truly not know about your leg. “It’s not a big deal…” There was a silence between you, before you reverted back to your typical self. “I thought you knew everything about me.”

“I want to know everything about you, y/n.” Safin responded. His hand laid on the side of the table, itching to lay on top of yours. “When I first saw you, I was intrigued. You don’t see a woman of your stature, jumping rooftops with a gun bigger than your whole body.”

“You know everything about me. My flat address, military background, fuck...even my clothing size. But enough about me..” You looked at Safin, staring into his eyes. “Tell me about yourself.”

“I would bore you with it.” He refused. “I’m sure the last thing you want to hear is me talk about myself.”

“If I’m going to be stuck with you forever, then I expect to know a little about my....fiance.” You said. You held back the vomit that was coming up from your throat. All you spoke was the truth. Safin was truly a man of mystery. His scars, lair, past, everything truly intrigued you.

“I suppose it’s only fair, my betrothed.” He smirks as he grabbed your hand giving it a small sqeeuze Flirting was definitely not your strong suit (nor was acting). Holding back a fight, you reluctantly agree. Everything came at a price.

“I was born in Egypt and brought over a ship to Switzerland. I never had any parents, or family. Me and some other young men were the test subjects of Hans Heinrich …”

“ Dr.Heinrich? The Nazi human experimenter?” You asked. Heinrich had embedded his name in the world of espionage. After World War Two ended, he had fled to Switzerland to continue his sick experiments. His men smuggled young children that weren’t part of the Aryan race and perfomed all kinds of experiments on their bodies for “science” and other horrifying facts.

Safin nodded in response, squeezing your hand for comfort. “Unfournealty. He believed in genetic cloning, wanting to carry on the Aryan race. He smuggled young children from all over the world. As long as they weren’t white, they qualified to be tested upon. He burned, amputated, drugged, posioned whoever he had to for science.  Many of the test subjects had died. It was like a concentration camp. I was a scrawny, young boy who couldn’t even squeeze a lemon. I was weak and naive. I was Heinrich’s favorite lab rat. Whenever I didn’t comply with his orders, he would burn me. The injections he put in my skin irritated and scared them. All I wanted was death’s sweet release.”

“So When I turned twenty, I killed him and set the place ablaze. I escaped into the Swiss Alps and learned to survive on my own. Before I joined Spectre, I took on the job as an assassin for personal gain. I had met Blofield and he supplied me well for four decades. After I left Spectre, I returned to Switzerland to find that Heinrich’s work was still alive. I thought he had been crazy and just a sadist, but he...had cloned me. The reason I didn’t die and my skin wrinkled as a teenager was because I was rapidly aging. The blood he had kept of some of the lab rats was still somehow useable. On my island, we experimented and had made our first clones. The maids, the recruits, they’re all clones of Heinrich’s lab rats. When I die..my body and skills will forever live on. I appear as If I’m in my thirties, but...I’m in my sixties.”

You raised your eyebrows, intrigued with the story. It was definitely not what you had been expecting. Safin was so unpredictable, so he could have had any backstory. You couldn’t believe Safin was abused as a child, permenatly scaring him and drove him to kill his abuser. As much as he hated his abuser, he proceeded to carry on his genetic cloning work.

“Are you a Nazi?” You asked.

He shook his head. “No. But Heinrich’s work...it was full of possibilities. I wanted to turn an ugly creature into a beautiful butterfly. Genetic cloning is the future. When I eradicate the world of people such as Heinrich and clone people such as myself, the world be will tidy once again. We can live together, in harmony.” He brings your hand close to face, leaning into your palm to feel your satiny, floral smelling skin.

“Your tidying a world that has always been corrupt. No matter what, there will be corruption.” You implied.

Safin responded. “Y/n, you know so much, yet so little. That is why I saved you. You are a woman the world needs. Intelligent, strong, powerful, and beautiful. With you by my side, we can dominate the people who have wronged us. There is no going back now, my dear. We are far past the point of no return.”

Was Safin going to clone you? The man was insane. You tried to sympathize with him, but your head and heart screamed all red flags. Broken, all Safin ever wanted was to show the world that he could make them feel the pain he had felt as a child. Safin was an anarchist who wanted the world to be in his imagine, full of people such as yourself and him for a “perfect” future. All Safin would most likely get is a dystopian, war-torn globe. But he had taken down countless of organizations and govermtnets in post-soviet countries, especially the one you had worked for. Maybe he truly was one step away from world domination.

“It’s getting late. We should retire.” Safin announced. You snapped out of your thoughts and nodded, sliding your hand away from his. The Seabreeze was strong during the night. In your revealing slip dress, to say you were freezing was an understatement. While feeling confident, you were freezing your ass off. Safin had given you his coat, which you proceeded to take off.

You remember his whispered into your ear as his calloused, cold hands massaged your bare shoulders. “Don’t resist, my sweet y/n.”

When you arrived at your room, you sighed in relief to be back in your villa. It was warm, and you didn’t feel so exposed. The dinner was wonderful in many ways. Learning about Safin, your finance, plans for world domination through cloning was bone-chilling. Thousands of people to choose, and he chose you, the unlucky one.

But with the life he had given you, were you truly unlucky?

“Safin, dinner was wonderful. Thank you.” You thanked, a small smile on your face. Your expecting him to ask the dreaded question he knows you hate. But now that you were both alone, he wasn’t going to hold himself back.

He bows his head, before looking back up. “No, thank you. I have a simple request to ask of you. Will you kiss me?”

Raising your eyebrows, it takes you a second to process the request he has asked of you. You don’t respond since your in shock. He wasn’t afraid to grab your hand or play with your hair, but kiss you? That was a huge step.

“Just once, and I won’t ask again.” Safin said as you snapped out of your little daydream. “You looked so lovely tonight. I bet your [y/m/n] would think so as well…”

Your mother. You hadn’t through about her in a while, too distracted with Safin. The reason you didn’t want to think about her was that the poor woman was probably dying each day, worried about your safety. Knowing that you would never see her again depressed you. Safin was sadly your new life. If he didn’t get his way then you would have to suffer. You suffered for the sake of your family.

“I suppose if it only happens once.” You replied, looking down.

Safin hadn’t kissed a woman in years but knew how to properly woo a woman. He knew you were doing it for your mother and sister. But tonight you were irresistible in your dress. Seeing the ring necklace and red lipstick would make any man mad, he had someone so beautiful as you all to himself. Pushing your hair behind your ear, he grabbed your chin as your red lips met with his.

Safin was not a kisser you were expecting. Seeing him as a brute, you expected him to have his way. But instead, he was tender and even loving. He hadn’t grabbed you in any vulgar way. In the first few seconds, your mind told you to not enjoy the kiss. But you began to ignore your mind and listened to your heart. Safin was a cruel man but a toxic lover. He knew you as well as you knew yourself. To stabilize yourself, you wrapped an arm around his neck. In response, Safin’s hand snaked to your exposed lower back. His hands began to travel dangerously close to your bottom. The more his hands traveled down, the hungrier he got into the kiss. You backed up against a wall, feeling his surprisingly soft lips. A part of you enjoyed the kiss but remembered that Safin was a monster. You shouldn’t have been doing this. A small kiss was turning into a full-on make-out session.

As your hands traveled to your chest, Safin’s lips moved away from your lips as he held onto your hips. Small pieces of hair fell from his neatly gelled hair. His breathing pattern was heavier, right up against your body.

His eyes looked down at your frame, seeing your cheeks burn up. A smile curves onto his face as his hand caresses your cheek. You don’t feel yourself, like your in a sick dream. You lean into his hand, feeling exhausted.

“Oh y/n, y/n, my love..” He purred into your ear in his husky, accented voice. “I cannot wait for the day I see you in your wedding dress.”

His hand moves away from your face as he walks down the hallway to retire his chambers. Safin had disappeared into the night after your very intimate moment. That was the first time in years you had truly felt adrenaline rush through your body. But it wasn’t just adrenaline. It was a sick, twisted form of warmth. You felt like a young woman in love with a teacher. Your romance was forbidden. Safin was a monster who wanted to wipe the world and leave it in his name. He had turned your life upside down, forcing you to be his bride. Safin was a greedy and evil man, someone you would never be attracted to. A part of you hated him and wanted to do nothing more than watch him pay for his actions. You couldn’t believe that your thoughts you even come to this, but a small part of believed you were falling for Safin. A beauty falling for the evil beast.

[blastoisemonster]

Pokèmon World Magazine: Porygon Net (Various Issues)

We’ve had a very long streak of Photoset posts lately, didn’t we? Let’s have a little break from anime and tie-in games and let’s go back to oldschool Pokèmon and my favourite childhood magazine, Pokèmon World!

This summer I'm working on my own portfolio site: it's getting built from scratch and, due to the kind of art it's going to showcase, I'm designing its layout to look like one of those old personal pages a lot of Internet users used to have back in the first 2000s. This choice was also influenced by one of my childhood dreams, which was, infact, owning a corner of the Net all for myself; without the right equipment or spare money to purchase a domain, though, the idea of having my page online was only hypotetical, so all I could do was designing some cute layouts on Microsoft Frontpage and admiring what others were doing. Of course, as Pokèmon was my main interest at the time, I found the Porygon Net section of Pokèmon World mag to be extra inspirational.

Porygon Net was a very small section with just a double page: every month, the magazine's staff would choose and review an italian site dedicated to everyone's favourite monsters. These online corners were, most of the times, built by fellow readers and fans who sometimes even wrote back either by mailing the staff or boasting about it on their site's news section, thanking for the feature and the subsequent wave of new visitors. As these places were built by teens or even kids (I may have seen some online pages managed by 10 year olds at the time o.o), their quality varied greatly depending on their web-making skills: some were very simplistic, other more orderly and neat, and some... showed potential, but needed more work. Pokèmon World's staff, though, never mocked these attempts, and instead also published suggestions to make certain parts of the site more functional and pleasing to the eye. I found this very encouraging, and I wonder if many of these people have continued with a career in the online world.

I went and browsed among my mag issues to find some sites to showcase: I mostly picked the ones that stuck in my mind since reading about them, or that I actually used to visit back in the day. Wayback Machine may have not been kind to the italian community, and I fear the majority of these sites are now lost; however, I'll post links if, surprisingly, I find them still alive!

Issue 4: Pokemon Mania

The pictures have been displayed in chronological order, but I still would've chosen to display this site first as I used to actually visit it before it was featured on Pokèmon World. Due to its easy and straightforward name, Pokèmon Mania was one of the first fansites to show up on the search engine if you ever looked for more Pokèmon content. It was managed by a guy with the alias of Professor Kao, and the whole feeling of the site was that of a Pokemon lab at the start of your monster journey. Though it wasn't exactly a marvel in terms of layout esthetic, the site aimed to amaze with content: it had simple browser fangames, a section dedicated to drawing tutorials (with pictures taken from japanese sources- which at the time were very scarce and hard to get!), many sections dedicated to the Cardgame (apparently, the main focus of Kao's Pokèmon interests) and its live tournaments, and one centered on the monsters' trivia. One very interactive section even proposed quizzes given by the webmaster himself that visitors could answer via mail: Kao would then contact winners and even send out special official merch like Pokèmon Center plushies or other branded toys. Generous! This site has been preserved in the Wayback Machine with a lot of snapshots, though unfortunately without many graphics. We can still navigate and read most of the sections!

Issue 20: Pokemon Museum

My second site of choice striked me with its very homely layout: even looking at the snapshot in its article feels like I'm viewing a cozy corner of the Net, in which the webmaster poured its personal thoughts and passions more than providing a service like PokèmonMania did. The issue is number 20 and quite some months have passed: online trends regarding these kind of pages had changed a bit and now people preferred to offer their own content instead of copy-pasting what Nintendo produced. Pokèmon Museum's graphics have all been drawn by the owner, Kabutops: the background texture, banner, and a lot of the graphics all around the sections! Kudos for being to prolific and precise during a period in which digital art still hadn't reached its peak popularity, and drawing tablets were only restricted to professionals. Going past the many sections dedicated to the anime, games and lore, one interesting aspect was the beginning of affiliates: fellow webmasters were starting communicating with eachother and sharing their visits by dedicating a little button to other sites. I loved the affiliates section because, once finished looking through a site, I could click on the cute little rectangle banners and find myself in another home without passing from Google searches! But webmasters wouldn't affiliate with everyone, and for the purpose of only interacting with other best Pokèsites, awards had become popular as well: graphics that people would exchange after rating a site and feeling impressed with their content, presentation, or popularity. Pokèmon Museum's magazine review focused on its affiliates and the awards, inviting fellow readers to have their site reviewed by Kabutops. Unfortunately, the site is not present on Wayback Machine. I'll never know if Kabutops came back updating its museum after summer vacations :(

Issue 35: TBPS

Let's have another jump of several months; issue 35 featured a page under the bigger domain Pokevalley and named itself The Best Pokèmon Page, rather narcissistic! This was one of those rare times Pokèmon World featured an english-speaking site. The layout doesn't impress me too much, yet the fact that the header reads "Crystal Water Version" conveys that the webmaster(s) used to periodically change aspect and palette of their site, an activity that proved to be very prolific for many page owners at the time: sites were often in construction, and people were experimenting with different colours or HTML code tricks to impress viewers and reviewers, have as many affiliates as possible and collect positive awards from other sites. Such was popularity, back in the day! The site has a long menu with many sections dedicated to the main games and movies; although, none of those pages were catching anyone’s attention anymore as everyone had the same copypasted guides and info; instead, what’s interesting is the hefty section dedicated to browser games, the big menu with pages concerning the site and staff themselves, and the oekaki board! Oekakis were very popular in that period, as it allowed fellow aspiring artists to meet eachother and show off their own skills by drawing live! If a site hosted one, they could quickly become a melting pot of creativity. Wayback Machine, sadly, doesn’t have anything concerning this site as well.

Issue 36: Arcywof

We’re back on italian sites with a page that definitely impressed even Pokèmon World’s staff for its pleasing graphics. When I first saw this among the magazine’s pages... my eyes lit up! I can’t hide that after seeing its beautiful palette, checkered background and condensed menu, teen me adopted Arcy & The Fire Pkmn as design guru: many of my subsequent mockup pages had exactly this layout, or variations of it. It’s too bad, though, that aside from the beautiful presentation, the site’s contents aren’t exactly interesting: the Pokèmon images are ripped straight from Nintendo’s official archives, and most sections are concerning the anime’s characters, episode plots, and broadcasting dates. However, Arcywof also offers a forum and a live chat, which definitely helped the staff build an interactive and affectionate community around it. Among all reviewed here, I’m most bitter that Wayback Machine hasn’t archived this site, because seriously, it’s a little jewel ;w; its pastel colours and checkered texture remind me of candy shops!

Issue 38: Pokemon Super Site

I wanted to finish this little jump in the past with a positive note and show at least one more saved address from Wayback Machine. Although not in its updated version originally featured in Pokèmon World Issue 38, Pokèmon Super Site has been archived and it’s more or less complete to explore. It’s too bad a lot of the graphics haven’t survived but hey it’s something! It’s 2003, and the trend has changed once again: forums are as popular as ever and considered one of the most successful ways to build a solid audience for one’s own page, which are now treated more like portals or an extension to the forum itself. Super Site’s sections are centered on game guides, nothing too special, but I do love the grey and white grid background on menus and header, as if we’re viewing a notebook page; reminds me of school days. I also really like the gifs section as featured in the review, all those old graphics bring back so much memories of scouting the net to save them all on hard drive!

If you stumble upon one of these sites in Wayback Machine, chances are the ever present affiliates buttons will still be working, allowing you to visit even more fansites. It’s a true trip to the past, and a never ending source of inspiration for me!

[valwrite]

leap frog; daveed diggs

masterlist.

summary: rafael casal can’t keep a secret. (read the sequels: hopscotch, hide & seek.)

warnings: possible second hand embarrassment, fluff, mentions of murder, cursing

fic type: drabble

word count: 2366

author’s note:  ahaha, i hate myself for writing this but i also love it, gn. feedback is appreciated! oh, and if i don’t reply to a comment or something, it’s just cause i’m dumb as shit and haven’t figured out how tf to do that yet 🥰

It was official. Y/N L/N was going to murder Rafael Casal.

And, boy, would she make sure it looked like an accident.

The man was a nuisance, a mad man, a big mouthed buffoon. And the reason she now had to avoid one Daveed Diggs at all costs from here on out. Considering Rafael lived just one door down from her made this a challenge, as Daveed had a habit of treating the other man's apartment as a second home.

The trouble began two weeks prior, when, after a miserable night out, Y/N had stumbled into the building elevator, feet aching to get out of her heels and breasts desperate to be freed from their confinement. Before she'd had the chance to press her floor button, a hand slid between the closing doors and in stepped Rafael Casal. The two exchanged glances and greetings before riding up to their shared floor in a comfortable and welcomed silence. Had this exchange taken place three months before, perhaps Y/N would have felt a lot more awkward and intimidated by her attractive neighbor. However, things had changed between them ever since they'd become friends. She'd tag along on nights out with his friends (who'd seamlessly welcomed her in as one of their own) and he'd come round for dinner every time he so much as smelt her cooking from next door. The elevator had reopened and the hallway they shared came into view. That was when Rafa made the proposal she'd end up regretting: “Do you wanna come in for a few drinks?”

She'd accepted because, well, it was free alcohol. The fact that his company was anything but bad was just an added bonus. A few drinks turned into many, even some shots finding their way into the mix of things, as she and Rafa talked the night away: she shared details of the horrible blind date she'd been set up on that evening while he ranted about how insufferably boring Daveed had been, claiming the man hadn't brightened up the whole night after hearing Y/N would not be in attendance at their get-together. She was sure her cheeks had turned as red as they'd felt when Rafa made that revelation.

The real mistake came towards the end of their drinking session and, really, neither of them knew how to explain how or why they wound up locking lips. What they did know was the following: it was a meaningless kiss, both of them laughed right after and it had been the most uncomfortable kiss either of the two had shared in their adult lives. Kissing him, Y/N would later realize, wasn't the problem though. It was what the kiss had unearthed.

“Oh my god, you have the hots for Diggs?!”

In three months of friendship, Y/N had learned three fundamental things about Rafael Casal:  he preferred pancakes over waffles, friendship with him was a package deal that included Daveed Diggs and, lastly, Rafael Casal was the biggest gossip in town.

Any secret, any hook up, any scandal. You name it and it was almost a guarantee that, not only did Rafa know about it but he was the source of it all. So, having him become aware on the fact she had a massive crush on his best friend? Yeah, there was no chance in hell Y/N could ever speak to Daveed again without self-combusting in embarrassment.

Now, back to present times, where Y/N finds herself tiptoeing around her own apartment, anything capable of making noise switched off and her own breathing being the only sound in the living space. Five minutes had passed since Daveed had last knocked at her door, saying nothing but her name yet still managing to put her on edge.

The logical part of her brain told her to open the door, because the poor guy was probably just confused as to why she had suddenly started ignoring his texts and stopped hanging with him and Rafa while they watched the Warriors play. The rest of her brain told her to stay put, wait it out and, once she was sure Diggs had left the building, grab the participation trophy she'd been given back in elementary school and use it to go beat Rafael's ass.

Operation: Avoid Double D was working, much to her own surprise, and she'd even started to feel a little impressed with herself when- thud! - a noise came from her balcony. The door of it lay wide open, much like the book she'd been reading out there before Daveed had come knocking, but the curtains were drawn shut, gently moving with the breeze from outside. Like a scene from a cheesy horror movie, she approached the balcony with caution, reached out to draw the curtain aside and gasped at the sight of Daveed comfortably sat in her chair, skimming through her book- a very, very worn out copy of Emma by Jane Austen - and sipping on her iced tea.

“I... How... What...” There wasn't a coherent sentence to be found in Y/N's brain. “Why are you on my balcony?”

“Well,” Daveed snapped her book shut and discarded it on to the small table next to him, all the while smiling innocently up at her. “I knocked on the door and you didn't answer.”

“So you figured breaking and entering was the only solution?!”

“Hey, hey, there was no breaking involved. Just, y'know, entering.” He stood up, reminding her of how much taller he was. “You're the one that left your balcony door open to the world, I just took advantage of that and jumped over from Rafa's.”

Y/N couldn't help but turn her back on him to gaze over at Rafael's own balcony. A fresh batch of laundry had been sat out to dry on it and Y/N noticed how the only plant Rafa owned had now died, nothing left but a dried up mess in it's place. She then thought of the space between the two balconies and, more importantly, the space beneath them both. Granted, she wasn't living in some top floor luxury apartment but she imagined a seven story drop was nothing short of unpleasant. Yet there was Daveed, all smiles and charms, having just jumped over the space as if it were nothing but some innocent, childish game of leap frog. She both wanted to scold him for being so reckless and praise him for being so brave.

Until she remembered the fact she was supposed to be avoiding him and this, clearly, was ruining any of her attempts.

“What do you need so badly from me that it compelled you to do something as stupid as that?” It seemed to be that scolding was the option she'd chosen.

“Answers.” Oh god no. That's it, time to eBay a body bag and a fake passport.

“Answers to what exactly?” When she was a child, Y/N had always tried to play coy to avoid confrontation. It appeared to be she hadn't changed much with age.

“Do you have any of those blueberry muffins left?” Okay, that was not where she thought this conversation was going. “Rafa ran out of the batch you made him and he's too afraid to ask you for more, since you demanded payment last time, so he sent me over here to charm two muffins out of your pantry.”

“You're in luck. I made some last night.” They could have every last piece of food in her kitchen for all she cared, so long as that were the only thing Daveed wanted from her. Though, she was still contemplating manslaughter when it came to Rafa considering he'd sent over Daveed, knowing fine well why she was steering clear of the man. He was shameless in his meddling.

“So,” Daveed's voice and footsteps followed behind her into the apartment as she desperately aimed for the kitchen area. “how come you didn't answer the door earlier?”

“I was, uh,” I was trying to avoid you because I want nothing more than to bake muffins with you and have you nakedly recite poetry to me and that's an issue because we're friends and you don't even think about me that way. “Shower. I was showering.”

“You hair's not wet.”

“Never heard of a hair dryer? Jeez old man, catch up.” At this point, her hands were clammy from her own nervous sweat but she'd pulled out the tray of muffins and shoved the lot of them over to him. All she had to do was get him out of her apartment, then things would be fine. “Here you go, thanks for stopping by. See you later.”

“Wow, wow, wow! Calm down, girl!” Did he have to smile at her like that? “Why're you trying to get rid of me? I asked for two muffins, Y/N, not the whole batch.”

“Just take them, I forgot that I don't really like blueberries anyways.” If there was an Olympic sport for colossal idiots, she'd have won gold, silver and bronze.

“You didn't answer my question,” Daveed took one step forward and she took one step back, internally screaming as she felt her back bump against the counter. “why're you trying to get rid of me?”

“I'm not!”

“Okay then, why haven't you been answering my texts or calls?”

“Because I lost my phone.”

“The same phone that I saw on your coffee table?”

“You found it! My hero!” The body bag was no longer going to be used on Rafa, she was pretty sure she was one more comment away from dying of embarrassment.

“Y/N.” When had Daveed gotten so close to her? And why did he have to say her name like that? Her hand gripped on to the surface behind her and she gulped, struggling to maintain eye contact with him.

“Daveed.” She replied lamely, just begging that he'd turn around, grab the tray of muffins and leave.

“What's really up?” His words were softer and more serious, much like the look in his eyes. “You won't answer your phone, you haven't watched the recent games with us, you won't answer the door to me. I just... Look, if I done something or said something that made you uncomfortable, I'm sorry. I really miss you though, so does Rafa. So if there's anything I can do to fix whatever I did, just tell me. I'll do it. Anything.”

And now, ladies and gentleman, please buckle your seat-belts and get ready for take off, destination: Guilt Trip.

“No. Fuck, Daveed, no. You didn't do anything. Trust me, it's all my fault. I'm really sorry.” The words tumbled out of her quickly whilst her eyes fixated themselves with staring down at her nervous hands. “I know that Rafa told you and, just, I'm really sorry. I promise, I'm trying to get rid of them, it's why I've sort of been avoiding you. I don't want to ruin our friendship.”

“Rafa told me... what? Who are you trying to get rid of?”

“Wait,” Oh sweet hypothetical baby Jesus, had Rafael Casal not spilled the beans? Did he really not know? “he didn't tell you?”

“I'm confused.” Daveed said, his eyebrows furrowing slightly as he continued to gaze down at her. “Was he supposed to tell me something? Wait, did he make a move on you or something? Cause I'll put him in his place if I have to.”

“Technically we made a move on each other.” The words flew out of her before she could stop it and she noticed immediately how his face contorted into a frown. “Not in that way! It was just a drunk kiss that we both regretted.”

“And he was supposed to tell me about it?”

“Huh? No! Ugh, look Daveed,” She'd already made a fool of herself enough, she may as well just round it all off with the mother of all embarrassments. Go big or go home, right? And, well, she was technically already home and with nowhere else to go. “I like you. Like, the way a bee likes honey or the way a dog likes a bone. A lot. But I get it, you don't like me and that's chill but would you please just give me the time and space to sort myself out and get over it so we can go back to being friends?”

“But I don't wanna be friends with you, Y/N.” Well done, idiot. So much for honesty being the best policy. “I mean, I don't know how I feel about being compared to honey or a bone but I do know how I feel about you. I think you're smart and beautiful, and stubborn and kind of a dork. And I really like it, you. I really like you.”

“Oh.” Oh? Oh?! Fucking oh!? That's all you can say to that. She couldn't stand living in her own head-space.

“I'm gonna ignore the fact that you and Rafa made out or whatever and just get straight to the point of asking you on a date. Tomorrow night, seven pm. Wear something easy to move around in.” Gentle fingers tilted Y/N's head up by her chin, forcing her to stare into his eyes. They were warm and welcoming, like chocolate chip cookies fresh out of the oven and melting with love. “Who knows, maybe by the end of the night you'll finally get a good kiss from a Bay Boy.”

“Why would Rafa kiss me at the end of our date?” At least she could still joke among the shock. “And you more or less just demanded I go on a date with you. No questions were made.”

“If demanding is what it takes,” He leaned down, his mouth hovering dangerously close to hers. “then so be it.”

Where she'd expected a kiss, she found nothing but empty space and the sight of Daveed picking two muffins out of the tray. Wide eyed and honestly a little confused about what events had just transpired in her kitchen, she watched as he finally headed for her door, suddenly not enjoying the thought of him leaving as much as before.

“Oh, and Y/N?” He was halfway out of her apartment, grinning back at her. “Rafa did tell me, I just wanted to hear you say it yourself.”

He slammed the door shut on the sound of Y/N cursing out the very man that was Rafael Casal.

[fantasticstoryteller]

New Amsterdam Chapter 56

Daredevil stood broodingly on the roof, like a living gargoyle protecting his small corner of the city from those who would prey on it. Head bowed slightly to allow his ears to hear even the slightest of wrong-doing in the city beneath him.

“Yoo-hoo! Double D!” called Wade as he tumbled into place on the roof next to the masked vigilante. “How are you—urk!”

One of Daredevil’s hands closed around Wade’s throat. “Deadpool,” he said stoically.

Deadpool pushed him away and he allowed it to happen. “Man,” said Wade. “What’s with the grabby-grabby?”

{Rude. We should shoot him.}

[We’re not going to shoot him. We came for his help, remember?]

{If you’d just let us kill the bastard—}

Daredevil sighed. “What do you want?” he demanded tersely.

“Oh. I see. Brooding and morose. Well, I didn’t come—heh heh—to talk to the masked Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, I came to talk to the Badass Blind Lawyer.”

“A lawyer.” Wade was certain that if Daredevil’s mask was emotive—or had, you know, eyes—the man would be rolling them. “Why do you need a lawyer?”

“It’s not for me!” protested Wade. “It’s for my boyfriend! Well, I think he’s still my boyfriend? He hasn’t broken up with me yet, and he needs a lawyer.” Wade paused. “And, uh, I’d appreciate it if you could pretend to be taking the case pro bono. I’ll pay you,” Wade added quickly, “but he gets a little—finicky about that sort of thing.”

“You—have a boyfriend.”

“Aw, and he’s the sweetest thing!”

[He might not still be your boyfriend. You did kidnap him.]

“I had to! He would die otherwise!”

“Is that what you need a lawyer for?” asked Daredevil.

{Please. As if we’d need help with that.}

[Given that your plan was to kidnap the hot boyfriend who loved us, yeah. We need help.]

“I can hear your curiosity,” taunted Wade in a sing-song voice. “But no. We’ve got it covered.”

[We do not, you costumed ass!]

“So what do you—your boyfriend, need a lawyer for?”

“I think his landlord is pulling some shady, and I mean super shady, Shady Pines, shit with his lease.”

“That’s—surprisingly appropriate,” said Daredevil slowly. “I’ll look into it tomorrow.”

“Thanks, mi amigo!”

“Now go away. I have things to take care of.”

“Things? What things? Maybe I can help?”

[Maybe you can make it worse.]

“You don’t know that! Neither of us know what’s going on yet!”

Daredevil sighed. “This gang is having a meeting with a new player. I need to see,” the vigilante continued over Deadpool’s giggles, “if it’s something I’m going to have to interfere with.”

“Well, give me the down-lo on the low-down, and maybe I can help.”

“Can you shut up?” demanded Daredevil. He took a deep, slow breath.

{Wonder if that helps him calm down?}

“Deadpool,” said Daredevil slowly, carefully. “I need to go in stealthy. I do not want them knowing I’m there.”

“No problem,” Wade drawled. “Let’s go.” Daredevil glared at him, but turned to lead the way.

[He’s probably realized that fighting you over this will be loud enough to alert the people he’s trying not to alert.]

{Be vewy vewy quiet. We’ah hunting Dahdevil.}

[Shut up!]

“Shut up!” hissed Daredevil, alerting Wade to the fact that he was humming the Ride of the Valkyries under his breath.

“Sorry,” hissed Wade as they snuck into the abandoned theatre. Well, abandoned by the officials, anyway. Judging from the clutter below, it seemed that squatters had moved in. Judging from the tagging on the walls, these were gangs.

[Odd. Why isn’t the outside of the building marked?]

That—was a good question. Wade watched carefully. There were several gang members lounging on what used to be a stage while even more hid in the shadows on either side of the stage.

{Look! They’re wearing the red scarves as belts!}

They were. Wade silently swung around Daredevil to get a better look. The one in the center of the stage was clearly the leader and even though he was lounging in an oversized beanbag chair, Wade could tell he was tense. They all were. Whoever this “other player” was, they were on edge.

Footsteps alerted Wade to the new arrival and he turned as a teen walked confidently towards the stage, huge wings tucked close to her back.

{Isn’t that the girl we raised in another reality?}

[You mean, ‘Isn’t that the girl Peter raised in another reality.’ I seriously doubt she’d still be alive if we raised her.]

The teen on the chair began a slow clap as she approached and she stopped just before the stage, still mostly shrouded in shadows. “If it isn’t our very own interferer,” the teen said as he heaved himself out of his chair. His hands shot into his pockets and Wade could see the handles of guns in them.

[She’ll be fine. Remember, she heals faster than we do.]

“Interferer?” drawled the girl. “That’s rich, considering what you’ve been doing.”

What was she talking about?

[If you shut up and listen, we might find out.]

“Not something we’ve been able to do. And we didn’t attack your little sister again.”

{She has a little sister?}

The girl spread her arms wide. “They’re all my little brothers and sisters,” she said before settling her hands over her hips.

Wade was many things. He was flaky, he was insane, he didn’t have a good grasp (or any grasp, really) on social norms. But he knew a perfectly balanced fighting stance when he saw it.

[Maybe we did raise her.]

“Oh, they are? Then where were you when we started?”

“Not here; that’s for sure. You never would have gotten as far as you did.”

“Do you even know what we’re doing?”

“Do you?”

The banter was light, almost playful. The looks and body language were anything but. Wade stared, fascinated by the scene in front of him. The boy had the high ground (literally), but it was clear the girl was in charge. How had Daredevil put it? The girl was a player.

But—when had that happened? As far as he knew, she’d been in town for less than two weeks. How had she gotten mixed up in this mess, whatever it was?

“I know about the demon,” said the boy as he leaned forwards. Wade shifted. He recognized that tone of voice; it was the same one those religious freaks who’d tortured mutant kids had used. “I saw it with my own eyes.”

“And it was tall, had eight legs, six eyes, and huge fangs,” replied the girl. She sounded—bored, of all things. “And you saw it transform right in front of your eyes, from a normal person you never would have looked twice at if you passed them in the street.”

[That was specific.]

The boy faltered and the girl nodded. “Yeah; I’ve seen it all before. You’re not the first to be roped into this, but I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure you are the last.” Even from the catwalks Wade could see the amber eyes glitter. “I have my own problems with that one.”

“Oh? And what about the seal?”

The girl scoffed and rolled her eyes. “There is no seal,” she told him firmly. “There never was a seal. You’re being used to create a horde of monstrous minions.”

“Better to walk at the Devil’s side than be in his way,” said the boy, recovering remarkably.

The girl sighed. “I adore how naive you are,” she told him. “I really do.” She paced a step forward. “Those things have been changed. Those things are being controlled by a power-hungry psychopath. Despite all of this—they still need to eat. What do you think they eat?” Another step forwards. “What do you think they’ll eat when that one no longer needs you?”

The boy’s eyes narrowed. “You’re playing with fire,” he told her, voice shaking. She’d clearly said something that hit him hard—but he wasn’t willing to back down.

“Oh, are you referring to the ten armed people you have waiting in the wings? Yeah,” she continued as he broke out into a sweat, “I hate to break it to you, but you’re toddlers attacking a tank. It doesn’t matter how many of you there are, I’m a tank. You can’t hurt me.”

The boy, despite being on the stage and using the height to tower over the girl, took a step back. There was something in that flat tone of voice, something with that subtle hint of exasperation, that showed she was telling nothing but the truth.

“We can try,” the boy said as he pulled out a gun. He shot her.

Daredevil tensed and leaned for a jump down, but Wade stuck out a hand to stop him. He knew the girl would be all right. She had to be—even if she’d grown up in another version of his world, she was raised by him and she wouldn't have survived if a mere bullet could kill her.

The bullet hit the pink leotard, sank inwards—and then bounced back as the girl rounded back out to normal dimensions around where the bullet had been. “This is armor you idiot,” she said as she reached out and caught the bullet. She lined it up on the palm of one hand before flicking it with the other. The bullet grazed the cheek of the boy in front of her—exactly as it would have if she’d shot it from a gun. Impressive, considering it was flattened out of all recognition from the impact with her chest.

“Just to warn you,” the girl said, “I have perfect aim. I didn’t want to kill you.” She gently rubbed at her chest through the material of her leotard and grimaced. “That is changing quickly,” she muttered.

Wade drew himself up to his full height. “You can’t kill these kids!” he announced in his deep, SuperheroTM voice before dropping down in full Superhero landing style.

“That,” commented the girl dryly as he stood up, “is so bad for your knees.”

“I know, right?” said Wade. “But everyone does it!”

“To be fair, most superheroes don’t live long enough for the repeated damage to be an issue,” the girl responded.

“Eek! Dark humor; me likey!” He gave the girl a high five before clearing his throat and donning the voice again. “Spiderman will be pissed if you kill these children.”

She sighed and rolled her eyes and chanted the next part in time with him. “Because with great power comes great responsibility.” She dipped her head for a moment and then looked at Wade again. “Yeah,” she said. “Heard that one a lot.”

He smirked. “I bet you have.” He turned to the boys who were staring at him. They all knew who Deadpool was, and they were hesitating to engage.

“Remember Deadpool,” the girl said impishly, “Spiderman will be pissed if you kill these children.”

[Forget the children. Spiderman’s going to be pissed about Peter.]

{But Peter isn’t pissed!]

“Stay with witnesses,” the girl said grimly. “Hopefully, the army isn’t too big yet.” She turned, gently bumped her fist against Wade’s shoulder and started to walk out. She paused. “I didn’t make a mess in your turf Daredevil,” she said firmly with a wave to the vigilante before continuing out.

“Daredevil?” asked the boy.

The vigilante dropped behind the boy, landing almost silently on the stage. “Yes,” he hissed.

[procrastinatorimagines]

Partners

Fandom: Chicago PD / One Chicago

Character/s: Jay x Reader, Intelligence, Will

Warning/s: blood, gun shots

Word Count: 2,424

Request:  Hey sweets! Can you write a Jay x reader where she's been his partner since Erin left but in the meantime she fell in love with him but she only told Will about it. When a uncover gets out of hand and Jay is kidnapped, she's the one to take down the person holding him at gunpoint. While they're at med so he can get checked out the adrenaline wears off and she talks to Will about the fact that she didn't even think twice about shooting bc she was so scared of losing him, but Jay ends up 1/2  Listening to everything but didn't confront her about it. After some time passes, they talk and get together. I'll leave the reason why to you lol. Hope you feel like doing it. Thank you anyways, I really enjoy your blog. Stay safe 💕 2/2

Summary: When things go south on a mission Jay is left in critical condition and the reader is left to think about how she really feels about her partner.

You’d been partners with Jay since Erin Lindsay left, it’d been a rocky beginning but you couldn’t really blame him, losing a good partner was hard enough, but when you were also in love with said partner... It’d taken a minute for you guys to get in sync but now that you were, you were practically unstoppable. You’d grown close these past few years, bonded, and well... you’d just had to go and fall in love with him didn’t you? 

He didn’t know of course, no one did, well, except for Will Halstead. You’d gotten close to both Halstead’s since your transfer to Intelligence, and the eldest brother had eventually figured out your feelings for Jay and cornered you about them one night at Molly’s. You’d sworn him to secrecy, but that was next to a year ago now, and he still didn’t understand why you never made a move. It was complicated, he was your partner, your friend, would you screw it up if you told him?

You’d been thinking about it more recently, you didn’t want to put your life on hold waiting for Jay to make a move or not, this job was day to day and you didn’t want to waste your time pining after a man who had no interest in you, but you still couldn’t get him out of your head. Will had been pushing you to rip the bandaid off, and you were going to, you really were, soon, you kept saying. 

But now you were driving to an abandoned warehouse, vest on and guns loaded, praying that you got there in time to save your partner, head full of regrets about what you never told him.

It’d been a straightforward buy, at first, and then one of the bangers had recognised Jay as being the cop who picked him up a few years prior, and shit had hit the fan in a big way. Everything went so fast that you only just made it to the site in time to see their car speeding away, an unconscious Jay in their trunk. The unit had kicked into gear, but it had still taken two days, two long and painful days, to pinpoint the location they believed Jay was being held. 

If he wasn’t here, or, God forbid, he was and he was... You shook your head, thinking the worse wouldn’t save your partner.

“You good to do this?” Kev asked, and you nodded, hand tightening around your gun as the car slowed to a halt just around the corner from the warehouse, out of sight of any perps occupying it.

“I’m good, and we’re going to get him back,” you replied but the look on his face told you that wasn’t what he meant, and you knew it.

“But you can’t get yourself killed doing it Y/N,” he told you, patting your shoulder as he slid the door open, climbing out with you following close behind. The rest of Intelligence gathered around Voight, double checking their weapons and comms. 

“I know, I swear,” you tried to reassure him as you joined the others. He didn’t look convinced but Voight was starting to give orders so he didn’t have time to argue.

“Okay, Burgess and Ruzek take the front with me, Rojas, you and Upton take the side, Kev I want you with Y/L/N in the back.” You all nodded. “Now this isn’t like our usual case, they have one of our own, and we’re going to bring him back, but don’t forget that the mission is to all come back, am I clear?” Everyone agreed but the final comment was very much pointed to you. You nodded to hid and put your earpiece in, taking Kev’s six as you all spread out around the building.

Breaching was easy, the back was unlocked so you went in slow and quiet. There were lots of open spaces but you used the boxes and crates stacked around for cover, not that you really needed any, it seemed... empty. 

Kev caught your attention and gestured to a side staircase that seemed to lead into a basement. You crept towards it and heard movement below. It was him, it had to be.

“I’ll call for back up,” Kev said and you hesitated to step back, what if they were hurting him as you spoke? 

But before either of you could do anything you heard gun shots from the other side of the building, heads snapping in the direction of the noise you heard Adam calling for backup over the radio. At the same time you heard yelling and a gun shot from down below. Jay.

Kev looked divided between going after Adam or going down to the basement, but in that moment you didn’t have anything to think about. “Y/N, wait-”

“Go to Adam, I got this,” you told him, heading down the steps.

“No, Y/N-” He started, but Adam’s voice over the radio made him pause, but you could barely hear them as you made your way to the door. Kicking it in as hard as you could and stepping in, gun raised.

The room was dimly lit, with a blood soaked table in the middle and various instruments around the side. In the middle stood a man with a gun, a gun pointed straight at your partner’s head.

Your mouth opened in shock at the sight of Jay, hands bound on his knees, tape over his mouth and a bullet hole in his stomach.

“Drop it,” you said forcefully, hands surprisingly steady as you aimed your weapon.

“I drop it you shoot me, I know how cops are with one of their own,” the man snapped back, fingers inching to the trigger, glancing between you and Jay.

“Yeah, he is one of our own, he’s my partner, what do you think I’m going to do to you if you shoot him,” you retorted, lining up your shot and the man shifted, placing Jay more as a shield between you and him.

“Guess I’m dead either way,” he laughed dryly, the gun flat against the side of Jay’s head, “at least I can take out a pig when I-” Bang.

You didn’t even think about it, didn’t hesitate, your ears ringing as the bullet left your gun, straight into the man’s head. He dropped in an instant, his own gun falling to the ground as Jay sagged forward, straight into your arms. 

You didn’t even check if the other man was alive as you held your partner, Kev running down in time to radio for an ambulance as you held him, taking off his restraints and applying pressure to his wound.

“Hang on Jay, just hang on,” you whispered to him as his eyes glazed over, his pulse getting weaker. The rest of the team followed down, it was clear they’d all been in a shoot out, but it was also clear that they’d won, and you’d got Jay. He just had to hold on...

Everything was a blur after that, you’d ridden in the ambulance with Jay, all but ignoring the warning look Voight had given you, you knew you’d get a lecture about going in alone later, but right now Jay was your only concern.

The look on Will’s face as you brought his brother was almost too much to bare as he was all but immediately rushed off to surgery by Dr. Marcel, already having crashed in the ambo on the way to Med.

And then the waiting began. God the waiting, if felt like you sat in that hospital forever.

Kim eventually convinced you to change and have a shower, but you were straight back to the waiting room when you finished. The others came and went, a case still to work, but you wouldn’t leave. 

“How is he?” You all but jumped out your chair as Will approached, his face was tired and their were circles around his eyes, but there was hope there too.

“He’s out of surgery, it was touch and go but he’s been moved to the ICU for observation,” he hesistated before adding, “Crockett’s hopeful, but it’s still.. too early to tell.” 

You took his hand and gave it a squeeze. “Can I see him?” You asked. 

“Yeah, I’ll take you to him now,” you looked back to the rest of the team who gestured for you to go. You followed Will, not wanting to get your hopes too high, but you just had to see him...

You blinked away tears when you saw him lying there, tubes in his arms, machines beeping all around, god he looked so pale... It was all you could do not to breakdown seeing him like that, so you stood in the doorway as Will entered. 

“He’ll be alright,” Will said, but you weren’t sure if he was trying to reassure to you or himself. “He should wake up... soon.”

“He’d better, finding a good partner is just going to be tedious,” you laughed, clamping your mouth shut when it turned into a sob. 

Will smiled weakly, “can’t replace someone you love,” he said pointedly.

“Of course I love him, God I love him,” you admitted; Will had always known you liked Jay as more than a friend or partner, but you’d never said that four letter word out loud before now.

“You know, I haven’t always been the world’s best brother, there’re a lot of things I’ve never really said to Jay, I should have told him I love him more, how proud of him I am-” Will choked up, “but I’m never going to waste that time again, you shouldn’t either. When he wakes up, you should tell him Y/N, or you’re just going to regret it.”

A tear slid down your cheek, you knew he was right. “I will, not... not right away, but... God Will, it’ll change everything between us,” you fumbled, picking at the cuff of your jacket.

“But you don’t know if that’s for better or worse until you tell him,” Will told you, patting his brothers arm as his phone beeped. He checked in and frowned. “I have to go, and you should really get back to the others, I’ll let you know if anything changes with Jay,” he promised. 

You reluctantly left, forcing your eyes away from Jay as you headed back to update the others. 

It wasn’t long after you left that Jay finally woke up. You told yourself you were giving him time to heal, to get better, you’d tell him after that... but you always seemed to make up excuses to avoid it, Jay was on the mend, he was alive, and he was your partner, why ruin a good thing?

-

“What do you know about sports anyway?” Jay laughed, opening another two beers and passing you one as you sat in your apartment living room, the events of the shooting months past.

“Well, honestly Halstead? Basically nothing, but I did learn a fair bit sitting with you in your hospital room, do you not watch anything else?” You countered, and he shook his head at you. 

“I never really thanked you, for staying by my side while I was recovering,” Jay changed the subject, and a more serious tone filled the void left by the laughter ending. 

“You don’t have to Jay, you’re my partner, you’d do the same for me,” you put your hand on his arm and smiled, aware of how close the two of you had ended up sitting.

“I guess finding a good partner would have been tedious huh,” he joked, smile dropping a little as you looked at him in confusion.

“I- I didn’t say that to you,” you realised and Jay froze, unsure of what to say. “No- I said that to Will, while you were unconscious...”

“Y/N-” He started but you shook your head.

“Were you awake? Did you hear that?” You asked, realisation dawning as you saw something else in his eyes, “did you hear that entire conversation?” 

Oh god, oh god, did he hear to say you loved him? Shit, shit.

“Y/N-” He began as you quickly removed your hand from his arm.

“Just tell me Jay,” you interuppted, putting your drink down on the coffee table.

“Yes,” he admitted after an excruciating silence. You turned away from him slightly, avoiding his eyes, 

“You never said anything- Jay, what I said-” You fumbled, unsure of what to say. Truth was, you’d planned a dozen ways to tell Jay how you felt about him, but for him to overhear and not say anything... every plan was gone from your head as you stopped talking in your tracks, trying to figure out your next words.

“I didn’t want to make it uncomfortable, you said you’d talk to me, so I figured if I left it you wouldn’t- I don’t know, feel embarrassed?” He tried.

“Oh I feel embarrassed alright,” you told him, “God Jay I’m sorry, I know I screwed up, but it hasn’t affected the way I do my job, and I don’t want this to ruin our friendship, or or partnership-”

Jay cut you off, taking your hand. You swallowed, looking directly at him again as you felt his skin on yours. “That would never happen, you’re my partner Y/N, and my friend, and... whatever else this is, because honestly? It’d... be a lie to say I didn’t feel something for you too.”

You let out a breath, a tightness you didn’t realise was squeezing on your chest loosening at Jay’s admission. His fingers tangled in yours as you sat there, stunned at what was happening.

“Y/N?” You realised you hadn’t said a word since he’d confessed his feelings. Right, you should probably say something, but all thoughts had left your head at that moment, all coherent ones anyway, so you settled for doing something a bit more spontaneous, something you’d wanted to do for longer than you’d like to admit.

You leaned in to kiss him, Jay leaning in to meet you in the middle as his hand went into your hair. When you finally broke away you both smiled, You’d kissed Jay, Jay had kissed you...

“So what now?” You got out, still very much aware of his hands on you, and his face so damn close to yours. 

“Well... we could just keep doing this?” He suggested with a smirk and you laughed.

“That,” you said as you closed the gap between the two of you, “I think I can do.”