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amazingmsme · 3 months ago

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Restless ‘Til We Reach Home

Despite Everything, It’s Still You (ch. 3)

AN: I had so much fun with this chapter, I hope you guys really like it! It’s got some much needed levity curtesy of Hermes, but also a pinch of angst & a very bittersweet moment between Polites & Odysseus. Oh, & we finally get a ghost!Polites face reveal! I’m also pretty certain this is the first fic I’ve ever posted from a hospital. I mean, unless any of you were around back in the day when I was dying & you remember if I posted something during that time, but I don’t think I did. So this is really something special!

Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3.5

If barely anyone had seen Polites in the days prior, then he must have made himself truly scarce after his last confrontation with the captain. The playful, if unexplained, shenanigans were no more, and the crew fell back into their monotonous routine.

But remaining invisible for so long takes its toll, and he needs his moments of peace and quiet. And so, the crew took notice of the man sitting alone in the crows nest, his presence never faltering. At least this way, he can still be of some use to the crew while completely isolating himself.

By now, Polites hadn't moved from the crows nest in over a week. Even his practice with the coin was getting weaker. He sat with his knees pressed to his chest, desperately trying to shove the drachma across the planks. His finger phased through, making no impact on the piece of gold.

"How have you possibly gotten more pathetic than the last time we met?"

Great.

The voice startled him enough to clutch the coin in his fist. Polites heaved a sigh upon recognizing the unwelcome company.

"Please go away," he mumbled softly. Hermes scoffed.

"Yeah, no, I don't think so. You obviously need me, I mean, just look at yourself!" he gestured at him wildly.

"Hey!"

"No, you need to hear this!" Hermes snapped his fingers in his face to get his point across. Polites flinched back before shooting him with an annoyed look.

"I thought I left you in a good place! What happened?" he asked, dropping his voice an octave, purposefully playing up his disappointment.

"I'm not in the mood for a lecture, so can you just-"

"No- I will not just anything. So be honest, how long have you been sulking up here?"

"I'm not-"

"Oh come on, I didn't say anything that wasn't true. So, how long's it been? Or do you even know?"

"... I'm on watch-"

"For how long?" Hermes asked with a shit eating grin, propping his chin in his hands.

"... Until we're home," he said pointedly. Hermes barked out a laugh.

"Oh, so you're just gonna sit up here, all alone, until you reach Ithica? Woooow, you must be so dedicated. Definitely no underlying reason there," he drawled, smirking when he noticed the way Polites clenched his jaw. "Nope."

Polites sighed in defeat, "They hate me."

Hermes rolled his eyes. "Oh please, they don't hate you, they hate what they think you are. And I know you're gonna think I'm crazy, and stupid, and blind, but... their reaction is proof of how much you really meant to them."

"You're right, I do think that! Do you even hear yourself? They! Hate! Me!" he clapped between words to get his point across.

"They love you!"

Polites scoffed and turned away, "Who died and made you Aphrodite?"

Hermes scoffed at such a high pitch, it was more of a shriek. "You are so lucky that was funny, but how dare you speak to me like that!" he asked, hands on his hips.

"Look, Hermes, don't you have something better to do?" he asked, rubbing his temple.

"Uh, you say that like this isn't important. I'm thoroughly invested, and I plan on seeing this through to the end," Hermes explained, voice tinged with condescension.

"Sorry, but I don't care about being your entertainment," he grumbled, still refusing to meet his gaze.

"Oh Polites, it's so much more than that. I mean, fine, maybe it is mostly for entertainment purposes, but how can you not see I'm actually trying to help?" he asked, genuinely wanting to know.

"Oh please, you're a God. You never want to make things better," he said honestly.

"Stereotype much?" he asked, leaning over Polites where he sat, staring at him from upside down, his mop of hair hanging towards the floor. He jumped at the sudden invasion of personal space, making Hermes laugh.

"I'm not a bad guy, honest! In fact, I spread joy wherever I go," he bragged, standing upright and propped an arm atop his head. Polites rolled his eyes, smirking up at the messenger God.

"I'm sure you think that."

Hermes glared down at him, cocking his head. "Excuse me? Are you mocking me?" he asked, amusement clear in his tone as he squatted down to his level.

"No?" Polites answered, quirking an eyebrow up in confusion. Hermes stared at him for a few long seconds before sighing when it seemed he really was telling the truth.

"I must say Polites, I'm very disappointed in you..."

"What? What did I even do?"

"Shhh, it's not about what you did, it's what you didn't do."

"Huh?"

"You're fucking Polites for goodness sake! The walking ray of sunshine, who, for some reason, is acting like nothing but a big dark rain cloud! And, hate to break it to ya, but Odysseus has that position filled, thank you very much," he huffed, sitting on the edge of the crows nest and crossing his legs, leaning on one arm.

Polites looked away to hide a faint yet growing blush. "You think I'm a ray of sunshine?" he asked hesitantly.

Hermes giggled behind his hand, rolling his eyes. "Of course that's your takeaway."

"Then what was your point?" he asked defensively.

"My point is that you used to be so damn happy, it was infectious. And now, here you are," he finished, lamely gesturing his way.

Polites stared at him, mouth agape. "I'm allowed to be sad Hermes!"

The God merely giggled and shook his head. Polites threw his hands up in the air in defeat. "There's being sad, then there's whatever... this is..."

"I'm dead Hermes! D-E-A-D dead!"

"Yes, I can spell," Hermes all but purred, and Polites snapped.

"SHUT UP! Just- shut up please! Are all the Gods this insufferable?" he yelled, grabbing fistfuls of his hair. "I don't even know if I really exist anymore! Everyone's a-always talking about me like I'm not even there, wondering if I'm evil, if I'm actually me, and they can't even look at me, Hermes! They look away like just one glance will burn their eyes!" Polites barely hovered above the floor on his knees, practically clinging onto Hermes.

The God looked almost mortified, staring at the sobbing, sniveling, dead mortal before him with growing discomfort and concern.

"I've never heard such hateful things. Please, I don't want to stay here. I-is... is there anyway you could-"

"What, take you back to Hades? Uh yeah, that's a hard no! Not only do I not know how to do that, but I will not let you just back out of the best decision of your afterlife. This is honestly the most fun I've had in ages."

"Congratulations!"

Hermes pouted, picking at his nails. "... I feel like you don't mean that."

"OF COURSE I don't mean that! I've never been more miserable! And you just come here to laugh about how bad our lives are going! Well my life is over, okay? You don't get to bother me anymore!"

"I wouldn't say I'm bothering yo-"

"I would," he crossed his arms, cutting him off. Hermes scoffed to hide an amused smirk.

"Cut me off again and see what happens," he warned playfully. Polites glared up at him, unmoving. "But I'm so used to seeing you with that precious smile on your face, that it just doesn't feel right seeing you without it. It's like you're naked," he teased with a shrill giggle. Polites blushed, wrapping his arms around his body for cover. That only made Hermes laugh more. "So you see, it just doesn't feel quite right seeing you this way."

"Well- it's not the same thing, thank you very much," he mocked, cheeks still flushed as he looked away.

"Ohoho you are just the cutest when you're embarrassed!" he cooed, pinching his unswollen cheek to tease him further. Polites swatted him away, floundering for words.

"I am not!"

"Not what? Cute, or embarrassed? Because I think it's safe to say you're both," he said casually, making him pout. "Even with that sour attitude you adopted."

"It's justified!"

"Don't fucking dwell on it though!" That sure seemed to shut him up. "And that is what you've been doing, isn't it? And the Polites I know would be heartbroken if he could see you right now."

"I think you mean the Polites you spied on," he deadpanned, unable to hide his smirk when he saw the look on the God's face.

"Wow, okay, if that's how you wanna put it," Hermes scoffed indignantly, hand on his chest. "But you're clearly not listening to me! All I've done since showing up is try to make you happy, and you've done nothing but fight it every step of the fucking way," he scolded halfheartedly.

"Oh please, you don't really care if I'm happy or not."

"You're right, I don't. That's why I took the time to check up on you, despite being a rather busy man. And you wanna know why I even bothered to do that? Because some little mortal named Polites taught me that it can be worth it to treat others with kindness."

His words caught Polites off guard as he blinked in shock. He was speechless, but a shy grin was quickly breaking out across his face.

"But now he has me second guessing myself," Hermes pouted, tilting his head down to look at him.

Polites pursed his lips to keep from smiling and looked away. The God cupped his cheek and turned him back around to meet his gaze.

"Don't tell me you've run out of kindness, Polites. It's your best quality."

"I- uh- thank you," he stuttered, the compliment rendering him speechless. Hermes arched a brow.

"That didn't answer my question," he teased with a sly grin.

Polites rolled his eyes, "You can't just run out of kindness. It's a choice!"

"Mhmm. And you know what else is a choice? Staying up here to wallow in self pity."

"Hey!"

"It's called a rude awakening, sweetheart."

"But- you don't know how mean he was!" he pleaded.

"Who, Odysseus? Trust me, I know," he agreed that the captain could be cruel at times, but that's why he liked him so much. "He just has to come around, and I have no doubt he will."

"Yeah? Well I do," he mumbled, fiddling with the coin. Hermes offered a strained smile.

"Oh lighten up before I do something drastic," he teased, kicking him gently to shove him onto the ground. Polites caught himself with a startled yelp, standing up to face him.

"Oh please, I'm already dead. You can't do anything," Polites shot back, brushing off dust that wasn't there . Hermes cackled at his response.

"Oh, I wouldn't be so sure," he teased, bumping their shoulders together a little bit harder than he meant to. "But I know Odysseus, and I know how loyal he is to you. Once he realizes the truth, I'm sure he'll be more than sorry for the way he's treated you..."

Polites thought it over before asking, "You think so?"

"I know so." Hermes noticed the way the sadness lingered and rolled his eyes. He really had to do everything himself, didn't he? He heaved a deep sigh, as if what he was about to do was some great ordeal.

"So before I go, you look like you could use one of these," he said, holding his arms out by his side. An open invitation. For once, Polites didn't immediately accept.

"Are you sure?" he asked, brows furrowed. Why would any God want to hug a mortal? Polites looked down at the blood on his own toga. "I-I don't wanna stain your clothes..."

"Please, I'm a God, you think I care about that?" he bragged, waving away his worries. "Besides, if anyone needs a hug right now, I think it's you."

The simple gesture broke him. His bottom lip trembled and he nodded, a sob catching in his throat. "I really do."

"Aww, you poor thing. C'mere."

Polites did what he was told, allowing the God to wrap him up in a warm embrace. He buried his head in his chest as he struggled to fight off the wave of emotions.

"Oh, again with the crying? I only did this because I thought it might make you feel better," Hermes whined, but he still rubbed a comforting hand up and down his back.

"No, i-it did. I just- I didn't know how bad I needed this," he said, voice barely above a whisper. He hugged Hermes tighter, as if afraid to let go. The trickster God stood there awkwardly the longer the hug went on.

"Okay, that's it. You may hate me now, but you'll thank me later."

Before Polites could apologize or ask what he meant, the arms around him constricted like a python around their prey. "Um, Hermes? You can lehehet gohoho!" he broke down into surprised, bubbly giggles as long slender fingers dug into his sides.

"No, see, laughter's the best medicine, yeah? So I guess you could say I'm curing you!" he chirped, not bothering to hide the evil grin overtaking his face.

"Ihihi'm dead I'm nohot sihihick!"

"See, that's another thing. You're just a little too sassy with me today, you're honestly lucky I didn't decide to put you in your place ages ago," he added matter of factly. "So maybe next time, watch your tongue."

Polites was thrashing in his hold; you'd think being a ghost would make for an easy escape, but somehow, Hermes was able to hold him there as if he were still flesh and bone. He tried to float free from his grasp, but a hand squeezing his belly stopped him in his tracks.

This shouldn't even be possible! His hands should be phasing through him, and they certainly shouldn't feel as real as they do right now. He had to be playing some cruel, Godly trick on him because Polites could swear he wasn't this ticklish.

Fucking Hermes.

He doubled over, barely staying afloat as he tried in vain to fend off the wicked, wondering hands. Polites felt himself blush as the absurdity of the situation really set in.

Still, how was he the mature one in this situation?

"Hehehermes, y-you're a Gohohod, ahact like one!" he squealed through his laughter. Everything came to an immediate halt as even the wind stood still. That was clearly the wrong thing to say.

"EXCUSE me? You actually think you can boss around a God? Oh you so deserve this. In fact I'm gonna enjoy every second," Hermes taunted, breaking off into hysterical laughter that mingled with Polites's own frantic giggles.

"Lihike you weren't ahahalready!" he snapped, shrieking as Hermes scribbled at the base of his neck in response.

"Did you even hear a single word I said?" he asked incredulously.

"Ihihi'm sorry, I'm soRRYYYY!" Polites begged for mercy. Miraculously, he seemed to get to get through to him, because suddenly he was let go, staring face to face with Hermes.

Polites grew more and more skeptical the longer he stared at that smirk. No way would he just let him go-

He jerked away with a squeal as he felt a soft, swirling sensation at his side. His eyes flew wide open as he came to the realization, pointing an accusing finger at the man in front of him, "Y-You tricked mehehe!"

"Well gee, I'm only the God of Trickery! Think about it, Polites," he taunted, tapping his forehead to make his point.

Hermes wasn't even touching him and he felt like he wanted to crawl out of his- well, he couldn't exactly say "skin" anymore...

"Whahat are you eheheven doing?" he managed to ask through a fit of giggles.

"Oh nothing, just putting you in your place. Y'know, like a God," Hermes made his point, flashing the smuggest smirk he could muster. He sat on the edge of the crows nest, crossing one leg over the other as he enjoyed the show. He subtly checked over his shoulder, trying to spot Odysseus anywhere on the deck.

When he looked back at the spirit before him, he was curled in a tight ball, only floating mere inches above the wooden planks. Hermes couldn't help but chuckle at the sight, the sound drawing Polites's attention.

He glared at him before he broke off into bubbly giggles and looked away.

"Ihihi'm sohorry, plehehease! Just stohohop!"

"Well since you said please," he taunted, reaching down to ruffle his hair, and the phantom sensations ceased.

"What was that even for?" Polites asked as soon as he regained his breath.

Hermes raised his brows, cocking his head to the side as he crossed his arms. "Who died and made you Aphrodite? Really?"

Polites tried and failed to mask his proud smirk, "Hey, you said that was funny!"

"Mmmhmm, you had it coming and you know it," the God countered.

"What? No I didn't!" Polites exclaimed, jaw hanging to the floor.

"You really wanna argue with me right now?" he asked, quirking a brow up in amusement.

He bit his lip and looked away, and Hermes could see a warm blush spread beneath the mottled cool tones of his bruised skin.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. You're honestly a real pain in the ass now that you're dead. Nothing but sarcasm and self pity," Hermes ignored the indignant cry of protest in the middle of his little speech. He tsked, shaking his head in mock disappointment.

Polites stared at the deck below through a small hole in one of the planks, plugging it with his finger as he listened.

"I tried cheering you up with some of my classic Hermes charm, but you were having none of it! I had to do something, you understand," he shrugged, casually explaining himself. "Drastic times call for drastic measures," he said with a wink.

Polites snapped his head up to look at him. "You... weren't just being annoying?" he asked, nose crinkling in confusion.

Hermes rolled his eyes exaggeratedly. "Yeah yeah, don't read too much into it," he waved him off dismissively, but Polites noticed the affectionate look on his face.

"Whatever you say," Polites grinned, feeling bold enough to return his wink. Hermes scoffed, mostly to hide his growing smile.

"Careful, that smart mouth of yours is what got you in trouble to begin with," Hermes warned playfully, cackling to himself when Polites shied away without another word. His laughter trailed off as he looked him up and down, and he placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Rest easy, Polites. Things will turn around, I promise." He gave his shoulder one final reassuring squeeze before he let go. He hopped up on the ledge, saluting the fallen soldier, "Until next time, friend."

Polites felt himself smile, and this time, it wasn't forced. He bowed his head in a slow nod, "'Til next time."

Hermes was about to leave, when Polites cried out, "Wait!"

Hermes froze in mid air, giving Polites his undivided attention.

"Are you going to the underworld anytime soon?"

Hermes gave a skeptical look, "Depends."

"While you're there, could you look for my friend and tell her I'm okay? And that I miss her?"

The God heaved a sigh. "Could I get a name?"

"Eurydice! Her name's Eurydice, and she's about this tall and- are you okay?"

Hermes sputtered and gawked at Polites, cutting him off, "You two know each other? This just keeps more and more interesting," he mused.

"Wait, how do YOU know her?" he asked in an accusatory tone.

"Relax, I didn't do anything. I just... hung back to observe," he explained with a shrug. Polites floated in place, waiting to hear more. "I never would've thought you two would hit it off, what with the underworld being so big. Good for you."

"So... you know what happened?" he asked, careful to keep his voice level.

"I'll go out on a limb and say I know more than you," he teased.

"Please?"

Hermes offered a tight lipped, sympathetic smile. "Oh alright. But just for you!"

With that, he was gone.

Polites heaved a sigh of relief once he was alone, leaning back against the mast for support. "At least he's helpful," he told himself.

~~~

Odysseus sat hunched over his desk inspecting a map spread out before him. He muttered to himself under his breath, calloused fingertips roaming possible routes. Another hand walked onto the map, pointing at one of the ornamental sea monsters.

"They're not just for decoration, y'know."

Odysseus shouted, stumbling back in shock, hand reflexively reaching for his sword. He stopped when he saw Hermes standing in the middle of his cabin, hands held in the air in a show of surrender. The captain huffed, sliding the sword back in its sheath.

"Oh, it's just you."

"What do you mean just me? Doesn't anyone on this ship treat Gods with respect anymore?" he asked indignantly. Odysseus's lips twitched in a scowl before schooling his features.

"Depends. Do any Gods know how to treat us with respect?" he shot back. Hermes hummed in amusement.

"That's fair. But we're not all like that. After all, I helped you," he pointed out with a breathy giggle. "And Circe. And don't forget Ath-"

"Okay I get it. So, to what do I owe the pleasure?" Odysseus asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"It's so funny that you think I'm here for you," Hermes cooed, drifting around him in a loose circle.

Odysseus furrowed his brows in confusion. "You're in my room, aren't you?"

"Yes, but I made a little detour first. Someone had to cheer up that miserable little friend of yours," Hermes mused with an exaggerated pout.

Odysseus thought for a moment, nose scrunching slightly in slight confusion. "You mean Polites?"

"Oh so you did notice he was upset, you just didn't care," the God taunted, idly picking at his nails.

Odysseus surged forward as he grabbed Hermes by the collar. "NEVER say those words to me again!"

Hermes froze at the outburst, eyes wide in shock. "... Bit of an overreaction, don't you think?" Odysseus didn't let him go.

"Not at all."

Hermes glared down at the cocky man before him, smacking his hand away like it was nothing. He then shoved him back with a wave of his hand, sending Odysseus stumbling backwards and falling into his chair, staring at him in bewilderment.

"Enough! I'm trying to help, but you seem so insistent on cutting your nose off to spite your face," Hermes growled, crossing his arms. Odysseus snapped his mouth shut.

"I understand you've been through a lot, and trusting others is hard right now, but you're either too stupid, afraid, or outright stubborn to see the truth for what it is."

Odysseus stood up from his chair, giving him a skeptical look. "You don't mean he's actually-"

"The real deal? I don't know, you tell me. He's only been saying that from the beginning."

Odysseus blinked in shock as the information settled and took root in his brain. He felt weak in the knees, lightheaded, so he gripped the edge of the desk for support, leaning his weight against it.

"I think I feel sick..."

"Good," Hermes chirped, crossing one lanky leg atop the other as he perched atop the captain's desk, sitting next to him. "Because you should."

Odysseus shot him an incredulous look. Clearly not the answer he was looking for.

"What? You made him cry! You should feel bad," Hermes pointed out with an air of casual smugness. "At least a little." Odysseus heaved a deep, heavy sigh.

"I do. I feel awful. And, not just about that, but-"

"I'm gonna go ahead and stop you right there. I'm limiting myself to only one mortal therapy session per visit."

"But-"

"Nope!"

"Bu-"

"Ah!"

"Hermes-"

"Zzzp!"

Odysseus groaned in frustration, clearly getting nowhere. He sank to the floor, sitting on his heels as he buried his face in his hands. A tidal wave of guilt far greater than anything Poseidon could conjure crashed down on him. It was dragging him under fast and all he could do was sink deeper and deeper.

A rolled up map to the back of his head was all it took to pull him out of his daze.

"Well don't just sit there stewing in self pity! Accept the fact you fucked up, feel bad for a little bit, but then use it to do better," he insisted, stern yet caring. His voice softened just a touch, "He needs you to do better..."

The corner of Odysseus's lip twitched in the faintest resemblance of a smile. "Thought you said no therapy."

"I'm inconsistent."

"I'll say," he said, crossing his arms. When he didn't continue, Hermes sighed and carried on.

"He misses you. And I know you miss him, too."

Odysseus directed his gaze towards the ground. "But... I was horrible to him. There's no way he wants to see me," he said, hanging his head in shame.

"I wouldn't be so sure. I hear that Polites of yours is quite forgiving," he teased gently, smacking his shoulder playfully, but with a little extra force. "At least I hope so, for my sake at least," he threw his head back with a shrill giggle.

"What? Why, what did you do?" Odysseus snapped. Hermes rolled his eyes.

"Nothiiiiing," he said cryptically. Odysseus arched a brow in question. "I just... raised his spirits a little," the God answered with a shrill giggle and a wink. Odysseus merely thought he was making a ghost pun, oblivious to the hidden layers of his joke.

"So do you know where he is?"

"Maybe give him some space right now. I really annoyed him, and I don't know how he'd feel about visitors after all that."

"I have to see him now Hermes. I need to set things right," he pleaded earnestly.

"Alright. Just... be patient, if he doesn't forgive you right away," Hermes warned. Odysseus looked at him, brows furrowed and eyes full of sorrow, shoulders sagging ever so slightly.

"I don't expect him to."

Hermes inhaled sharply through his nose, "In any case, I wish you both the best of luck."

"Thanks."

The boat rocked against a large wave and Odysseus stumbled to keep his footing. When he looked up, Hermes was gone.

Odysseus made his way to the bed and sat down, feeling overwhelmed by the bombshell he was left to cope with.

That really is Polites...

The Gods had no hand in bringing back this twisted version of his best friend. No higher power puppeteering his corpse as a mockery of all his past failures. Which meant...

Polites actually looked like that.

The thought alone was hard for Odysseus to stomach. He couldn't help but spiral and wonder if Polites is in as much pain as he seemed to be in his final moments. A sob caught in his throat.

His once soft, kind voice now has an ever present hoarseness to it. Every time he speaks, Odysseus can hear nothing but those dying words, can see nothing but those final, horrid moments.

"Captain-" his voice is strained as he reached out for the one man who was supposed to protect him. Blood began to pool beneath his body as Polites struggled to prop himself up. His arm looks crumbled and twisted and immediately gave way under the slightest pressure.

"Enough."

That single word shook Odysseus to his very core.

The massive club came crashing down once more, landing the final blow. Odysseus can almost feel the blood splatter across his face, just as hot and paralyzing as it was the first time.

He stood up so abruptly, he made himself slightly dizzy, but he didn't care. He needed to see Polites.

~~~~

Odysseus had a lot to apologize for, but where to even begin?

He didn't even know what he'd say to Polites when he say him, he just knew that he had to see him right here and now.

Odysseus walked up to the base of the mast, starting his slow ascent. When he reached the crows nest, he knocked out a familiar pattern, earning his friend's attention.

Polites poked his head over the side of the bucket, eyes widening when he sees Odysseus casually hanging by a rope.

"Care for some company?" he asked sheepishly, offering a timid, nervous smile.

Polites wanted to be mad. He had a whole list of things he wanted to say to his face, and they all died on the tip of his tongue. Despite himself, a wide grin broke out across his face.

He came. He does still care.

"If it's you? Always."

Odysseus breathed a sigh of relief and clamored the rest of the way up. He sat across from Polites, leaning his back against the walls of the crows nest.

"So," he said awkwardly, unsure how to start.

"So..." Polites repeated, looking at him expectantly.

"I should probably start by saying how sorry I am for everything I've said to you since you came back."

Polites was quiet for a long moment. "You really hurt me."

His eyes filled with tears as he nodded, "I know, and I know I can't take back the words I said , or the pain I caused. But I am so sorry for everything. I-I should've believed you, the moment I saw you. I should've fucking known; you're my best friend, my brother by choice and I tossed you aside when you needed me most."

Polites was crying by now, and he reached up to wipe away his tears. "It's oka-"

"No it's not! Please don't pretend, Polites. I... I'm not the same man you knew. I'll never be him again, and nothing about this is okay! You died and I did nothing. Poseidon wiped out our entire fleet, and I could do nothing but watch. And when you finally came back..." Odysseus chokes on a sob caught in his throat. "You came back, and I was nothing but awful. So I don't blame you if you aren't ready to forgive me."

"I do though," Polites said quietly. "Forgive you, I mean."

Odysseus barked out a humorless laugh, "You shouldn't."

"We all lash out when we're afraid, or we don't understand something. I honestly don't know if I'd believe you if the roles were reversed," he admitted, not only to his best friend, but to himself.

"Please, you don't have to be so nice to me Polites. I said downright horrible things to you! I was an asshole! And- everything that's happened since you died has been my fault. Your death was my fault- and I'm so, so sorry that I couldn't save you, I-"

"Hey- shh, shh," Polites soothed, reaching a hand toward him. "Just calm down. Odysseus, none of this is your fault. You did your best to save us-"

"And it still wasn't enough!" he snapped before reigning himself in. He grabbed an angry fistful of hair. Polites thought about placing a hand on his shoulder.

If he were alive, he wouldn't have to think twice.

"We didn't stand a chance," Polites said flatly. Odysseus whipped his head up to look at him. "Oh don't look at me like that, you knew it too. There was no way we'd all make it back. I was just... one of the unlucky few," his voice cracked as he spoke and he looked away.

"Still, I should've done something," Odysseus reasoned. Polites let out a sarcastic snort.

"Like what? Push me out of the way? Take the blow so I could die another day? Save me instead of making it home safe?"

"It would've been better than doing nothing! I just... s-stood and watched..." Odysseus trailed off, his look a mix of terror and grief.

A tense silence fell between the pair, broken when Polites spoke up, "You were in shock."

"No, I was weak! And now you're gone!" It was hard not to take offense to that.

"Odysseus, I'm right here."

His shoulders sagged with guilt. "You know what I mean."

"I do. But I need you to know that nobody blames you for what happened," he said, sounding so sure of himself.

Odysseus shook his head. "I do."

Polites reached out, grabbing his shoulders on instinct. Odysseus looked bewildered at the touch, but he didn't brush him off.

"Well I don't! Hey, hey! Look at me!"

Odysseus didn't want to. He really didn't. He'd been avoiding it ever since he came back, only sparing fleeting glances from the corner of his eye. The only time he'd looked directly at him was when he was staring him down the length of his sword. He closed his eyes, preparing himself as best he could. He lets out a shaky breath, and opens his eyes.

He had to fight against the urge to recoil when he really looked at him for the first time.

It was a good thing Polites could float, because Odysseus seriously doubted that his legs could support him anymore. They hung limp and awkward beneath him, each knee ever so slightly off. His arms were mangled in a similar fashion, except the breaks and odd angles were much more jarring. His elbows bent too far back, and his left forearm seemed to be broken, swollen far too much not to be. Blood stained his clothes and smeared across his armor, running down his arms and legs in thin trails.

His face was swollen and bruised, with a dark black eye on the right side. His brow was split, causing a slow trickle of blood to ooze down his face, although his bandana seemed to soak most of it up. He had a small cut on his left cheek and his bottom lip was busted. But all of that paled in comparison to his eyes.

His once soft gaze, so full of light and love was now glazed and glossy. The warm brown hue was no more than a lifeless gray behind milky eyes. They'd always been so vibrant, so expressive, so... so lively. Odysseus had to remind himself that it is still his friend. Despite everything, it's still Polites.

Odysseus didn't even realize he'd been crying until a gentle hand wiped away his tears.

"My death is not your fault. Okay?" he spoke softly. Odysseus nodded weakly, although it was clear he didn't believe it.

"Say it."

Odysseus shook his head. "I can't-"

"Sure you can," Polites encouraged gently. "Because it's the truth."

He took a shaky breath, "Your death is not my fault."

"Good. I hope someday, you'll believe it."

Odysseus sighed heavily, "How can you still be so nice to me? After everything?"

Polites shifted as he thought about his answer. "Well... because you're my best friend. That didn't change just because I died. Don't get me wrong, I'm still pretty upset about all the things you said," he admitted with a chuckle, "But, I also know you were just lashing out. You would've never said such things had you known."

"But I did, and I hurt you."

"You didn't know."

"I should've! You tried to tell me, over and over, and I refused to listen." He dropped his head low, staring at the wooden planks. "What kind of a friend am I?"

"An honest one," Polites said after a long pause. "Loyal. Funny. Maybe a bit of a pain in my ass," he chuckled when Odysseus smirked at his words. "But most of all, you're a good friend, Odysseus. I'm glad I spent my life fighting beside you, and I'm proud to have lost it in battle, surrounded by my brothers."

Odysseus looked at him, brows furrowed and lips pressed together in a thin line. "You're too forgiving, Polites."

"Or maybe you need to be a little more forgiving."

"... Not everything deserves to be forgiven."

"No, not everything," Polites agreed. "But most things."

Neither spoke for a long time. Odysseus took a deep breath through his nose. "I really am sorry."

"I know."

"I don't think you do."

"Ody, I know. You don't have to keep apologizing," he reassured. Odysseus smiled sadly at the nickname.

"If you say so."

"I mean it," he insisted. "You already said you're sorry, what more is there to say?"

Odysseus looked at him from the corner of his eye, trying to mask his amused grin. Even when he felt awful, Polites knew how to make him smile. "I don't know. But it just feels like I can't ever say it enough..."

Polites couldn't help but smirk. "Trust me, you can," he teased, smiling wider when Odysseus playfully glared at him. He chuckled and shook his head, "Hermes was right, you are acting like a big dark rain cloud," he taunted further. Odysseus rolled his eyes.

"Shut up, he didn't say that."

Polites snorted in amusement, pursing his lips and adverting his gaze.

"He really fucking said that?" he asked incredulously, sitting up a little straighter. Polites giggled at the reaction, laughing harder when Odysseus noticed and played up his anger. "That bastard! What did I ever do to him?" he asked, laughing along with Polites. By the Gods, he'd missed this.

"Well, in your defense, he called me one too. But he said that was your job," Polites clarified, even jabbing his shoulder for emphasis. Odysseus stared at him with a mix of excitement and shock.

"Oh really?" he asked, trying to push him back, only for his hand to phase through. Polites smiled sadly and leaned in, lowering his voice as if he were sharing a secret.

"You're thinking about it too hard. Just try to act normal," he suggested.

Odysseus forced himself to relax, unclenching his jaw and slouching ever so slightly. This was his best friend, they were joking around like they'd done thousands of times. It felt as natural as breathing to reach over and give him a shove. He lost balance and tipped over where he was "sitting." Odysseus had noticed the space between his friend and the floor below a while ago, but had decided to ignore it.

"See? You got it," Polites encouraged, beaming up at him.

"So did he really say all that, or are you just making shit up?" he goaded.

"Oh he said a lot more than that," he said, sounding exasperated. "Mostly about me though."

"Mostly."

"Mhm. I think I might've made him mad though, I'm not sure." Odysseus arched a brow, scooting a little closer.

"What?"

"He said I was "too sassy" and I needed to "watch my tongue,"" he quoted, a sly smirk tugging at his lips.

"Look at you, mouthing off to a God!" he encouraged, smacking his leg with the back of his hand. He'd missed this closeness, and was subtly trying to practice and test the waters to see if he could really feel him. Odysseus felt nothing beneath his touch save for a cold mist. "Guess I really rubbed off on you."

Polites shrugged sheepishly, "What can I say? I've got nothing left to lose now. I'd say it was worth it."

"Worth what?" he asked, cocking his head curiously.

"Nothing," Polites answered quickly, not meeting his friend's gaze. Odysseus grinned wider.

"Really? Nothing at all?"

"No," he insisted.

"Yeah, I don't believe you."

"Oh shut up!"

"Nah, you don't really want me to," he said smugly.

Polites rolled his eyes. "Damn it, I hate when you're right." They both chuckled and sighed unison. It almost felt like nothing had changed. If they closed their eyes, they could pretend it hadn't.

"I've missed this," Odysseus turned to look at him, eyes glistening. "I've missed you."

Polites felt a sob catch in his throat. "I've missed you too."

"... I'm sorry things ended up like this," Odysseus spoke quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

"So am I. But... I'm still here," he tried to reassure him. He reached out, lacing their fingers together. Polites could see his hand beneath his own, could feel his palm ever so slightly phase through his skin. Odysseus didn't flinch away. "Sort of."

Odysseus snorted and shook his head fondly. "Same old Polites. How could I have been so blind?"

"I think you were just scared."

"What, of you?" Odysseus asked with a smirk.

"Of the possibility it wasn't me..."

"... I think you might be right."

Polites looked at him and scooted a little closer, turning on his side to face him. "Hey, things are gonna be okay."

Odysseus spared a glance his way, brows furrowed with worry. "How do you know?"

"Because, I just do. I have a feeling it'll all work out in the end."

Odysseus smiled sadly, "I think that's called wishful thinking."

"Hope can bring you a long way. You'd be surprised."

"I'll take your word for it." Odysseus trailed off for a moment before adding on, "I won't let you down. I promise."

"You could never," Polites said softly, offering a warm, gentle smile.

"You give me too much credit."

"Maybe, maybe not."

They spent the rest of the night lying in the crows nest amongst the stars, pointing out their favorite constellations and catching up, just as they'd done countless times before. Everything has changed, and yet, nothing has.

#restless til we reach home #ghost!polites #polites #odysseus #hermes #epic #epic the musical #epic musical #epic the wisdom saga

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bratkook · 4 years ago

Text

come over. (m) jjk

pairing. jungkook x reader genre. smut, pwp, warnings. jungkook is a self proclaimed pervert, smut in forms of: mutual masturbation, voyeurism through bedroom windows, rough sex, oral (m receiving), jungkook is a lil mean but just a little, dirty talk, use of vibrator, multiple orgasms, forced orgasm, overstimulation, unprotected sex word count. 7.2k summary. the guilt of being a dirty peeping tom eats Jungkook alive, not knowing this was all part of your elaborate plan to sleep with the new neighborhood eye candy. author’s note. #84 requested by @taestybae from this promp list! ty for sending this in bby 🖤 (requests now closed)

Jungkook knows it's wrong, god does he know it's wrong. Acting as if he didn’t mean to leave his blinds cracked open, tilted at just the right angle that allows him to still be able to see out, the view he’s granted being your own window a few feet away.

It’s funny now, how when he had first purchased the town house he had hated how close his neighbors were to him, and now here he was, an absolute pervert who was thankful for the narrow distance between your buildings.

The self proclaimed pervert simply sits at his desk, mindlessly going through work emails while his eyes continue to drift up, staring through his blinds for any sign of movement.

Jungkook’s chest feels tight as he waits, eyeing the ticking clock in the corner of his screen and seeing it was nearing nine at night. Maybe you had plans tonight, going out with your friends, mind too preoccupied to indulge the filthy fantasies Jungkook had swirling in his head. It had become his favorite daily activity, sneaking a peek at you, sometimes doing simple things like relaxing with a face mask, or having a dance party.

Of course those moments were all adorable but his favorite moments were the ones where you would walk around topless or lather lotion on your body after a shower. Sometimes you’d take the teasing a step further, blinds fully opened with only the sheer curtain coming in between him and your shadowed silhouette, caught in the act of what he could only assume was you touching yourself.

Jungkook used to think it was purely accidental, just a careless neighbor who had no idea his bedroom had the perfect view, but he swore you had made eye contact with him far too many times for this to not be intentional.

Before his mind can spiral further, there’s suddenly a flicker of light and like a magnet, Jungkook’s eyes lock in to their target, seeing you walking into your room with a small towel draped over your shoulder, sports bra and tiny workout shorts showing him how your body was glistening in sweat.

Pushing off his desk, his chair rolls and squeaks along his floor so he could get a better view, completely invested in seeing the way you get comfortable after your trip to the gym. Call it creepy or call it attentive but Jungkook had grown to know your schedule, you were his neighbor who enjoyed giving him peep shows so it was sort of hard for him not to realize the usual routine you had. However, this was the first time he had seen you come back from the gym this late.

Jungkook groans now at his realization, palm coming to rub down his face as he hears his own thoughts, behaving like a man who had a notebook where he jotted down your schedule.

He didn’t, but still, he felt like a creep. A dirty fucking creep.

With his eyes screwed shut he shuffles the chair back to its rightful spot like a child in time out, angling his body to prevent his wandering eyes from looking through his window once more, the shame once again eating away at him like it did every time.

Did you really do this on purpose?

Of course you did, you weren’t stupid.

The second Jungkook moved into your neighborhood he became the talk of the street, suburban house moms, young teenage girls, even your elderly neighbor had begun to wonder who the cute boy who went jogging down the street was. He oozed sex appeal, not even realizing how swooned he had everyone with his morning workout, he just thought everyone waved and smiled at him out of pure friendliness.

Although he had no idea how hot he looked, you were blessed with the gift of vision and common sense. It only took you one glance of him exiting his house, long hair partially tied back, running shorts hugging his thighs so beautifully and you were sold.

The minute you realized he was your next door neighbor it was like a lightbulb went off above your head, it was a blessing in disguise and you were not about to pass up the opportunity to have this go in your favor. Giving him a front row seat to you and everything you had to offer was the cards you chose to play and so far it had been going well.

That is until you exit the shower, excitement coursing through you, already wondering how you’re going to tease him tonight. With your towel loosely hanging around your chest, you’re ready for the small show, but as you get into your usual position you notice that his blinds are now tightly closed, no gap between the shutters to allow him a peak of you.

It’s a sudden and very unexpected chain of events. With a small huff of disappointment you perch yourself onto the end of your bed, directly facing your window as you sit in thought, your saucy plans for the night being ruined.

Wondering just what could have made Jungkook flip a switch like that kept you up at night so when you see him coming in from his run the following morning as you leave for work you don’t think twice about speaking up.

Your neighbor flinches when you greet him in good morning, not expecting to hear your voice so close to him but he could thank your connected driveways for that.

“Oh, good morning.” he smiles politely, pulling out his airpod and pausing his music entirely to give you his full attention. The small nerves of being called out bubble up inside of him, only having talked to you once prior he wasn’t really sure where this conversation would go, were you about to call him a disgusting pervert?

“Did you call it a night really early last night?” You bite instantly, soft smile not giving away your true intentions but he knows, the way his eyes widen slightly make it obvious.

“Yeah,�� he sputters out, wiping his sweaty palms on his black shorts, nerves already making his heart skip. You knew, there was absolutely no way you didn’t and this solidified it. He had assumed you did, his guilty conscience making him believe what you did was intentional in order for him not to feel like the peeping Tom he very clearly was, but hearing you sneakily admit to knowing he hadn’t watched you last night made him feel like a bucket of cold water had been dumped over him.

“Haven’t been getting much sleep lately so..”

You simply nod along as he trails off in a lie, lips spreading out into a smirk as your eyes very obviously give him a once over, focusing on the deep cuts of his sleeves that expose his sides and art filled arm, how the shorts he wears hit above his knee and leave his glorious thighs out for you to see. He was truly blind to his good looks.

“Sorry I haven’t really given you a proper neighborly welcome, can I have your number?” Already fishing your phone out of your pocket because you knew he wouldn’t say no, still you tack on a helpful lie to make your flirting a little more subtle. “The neighbors have a group chat, I’ll add you to it so you can get all the hot gossip.”

If he knows you're lying he doesn’t show it, instead he looks a tiny bit disappointed that you wanted his number to add him to a neighborhood group chat. Regardless he recites his number with a smile, his phone instantly vibrating in his palm with a text from you, a friendly ‘hi neighbor’ with a waving emoji at the end.

As he starts to save your contact you open up your car door, grabbing his attention once more. “I’ll text you if I ever need sugar...or other neighborly things.”

The suggestive teasing in your tone isn’t lost on him now, his cheeks flushing at the implications behind your words. “Yeah, whatever you need.”

He’s admittedly even more disappointed when your message thread runs dry, not even being added to the gossip group chat that he was sort of curious about. You hadn’t even given him a show since the night he shut his blinds but it was all part of your plan, expertly crafted to go in your favor.

While you’re at work you get the email that sets everything in motion, a notification of your package being out for delivery. A very cute baby pink wand would be placed at your door step in discreet packaging and if things went the way you anticipated it would be making its proper debut tonight, hopefully with an audience of one.

Jungkook is pulled away from his computer screen when his phone vibrates against his desk, your name illuminated on his homescreen. He pauses for a moment, wondering if this was simply a text initiating him into that damn group chat that he had no idea didn’t actually exist, but when he unlocks it and opens up the thread he sees it's just you.

Y/N 3:48pm : hi jungkook, sorry to do this but im getting a suuuper important package delivered today could you please keep it safe until i get home later tonight? 🥺🖤

You wanted him to guard a package, just neighborly things, exactly what you said you would text him for.

Jungkook 3:49pm : sure, what is it?

He feels stupid immediately after hitting send, fingers curling together into fists as his eyes glare at his screen. Why the hell would he ask what the package was? Being a peeping Tom was clearly not enough, no he had to know about your online purchases.

Y/N 3:52pm : just something for sore muscles 😅

Just like a typical horny boy would, his mind wanders to what exactly could be in the box, quickly texting you an ‘okay!👍🏻’ before locking his phone altogether. He was going to lose his mind.

All according to plan.

Jungkook guards that package with his life, placed delicately on his kitchen counter, exactly where he left it the minute he saw the postman drop it off. He’s been glued to his couch since then, regularly looking over his shoulder to ensure the brown box wouldn’t spontaneously disappear.

Just as he feels himself getting antsy the gentle knocking from his front door has him springing up from his couch, pausing a few feet away from the door as he eyes the knob before looking back at the package. Should he greet you with it in his hands, or would that seem like he was trying to rush you away?

When you knock a second time he opts for just opening the door, seeing you standing there with that friendly smile, a small tweed skirt and matching top showing him you had just got off work, his eyes focusing on your exposed legs for a moment too long until your voice snaps him out of it.

“Hi Jungkook,” you greet him with that honey sweet voice, the tiny glimmer in your eyes betraying you but he doesn’t spot it. “Did you get my package?”

“Hey, yeah I did.” Leaving the door ajar, he steps further into his home, quickly retrieving the light box and bringing it to you, still patiently waiting with that polite smile as if you didn’t know what was packaged inside that box.

“You’re a lifesaver!” you cheer, holding it close to your chest with a small sigh, “I don’t know what I would’ve done if this got stolen.”

Jungkook can feel his face warm up, not able to stop his mouth from running on autopilot, unintentionally outing himself as an extremely observant neighbor. “You must be really sore from going to the gym all the time huh?”

There's a silence that falls over you both as you eye him curiously, gaze flickering with the same mischief from earlier, something he can easily spot now and he desperately wants to shrink into himself.

“Definitely,” you agree with a laugh, “thanks again, have a good night!”

And just like that you’re gone, leaving him with his forehead pressed against his front door as he feels like an idiot. “Really, you must be sore?” He mocks his own voice, rolling his eyes before standing up straight and retreating back into his room to finish the work he had neglected in favor of protecting your package.

The same package that you were currently clutching onto as you bolted up your stairs with a pair of scissors in the opposite hand, debatably not the safest choice but it had to be done. You feel like a crazed woman as you stab into the clear tape to break the seal, peeling back the flaps and letting out a giddy laugh when you spot the sleek white box, a photo of the device printed on the front.

With steady hands you pull out the prized toy, carelessly tossing the empty boxes to the side, hearing them land with a light thud. The soft silicone against your thumb fills you with anticipation, a silent click against the first button dulls down the excitement when it refuses to turn on.

“Stupid fucking chargers.” you grunt, setting the device down and making your way back to the discarded boxes, pulling out the tiny white cable to plug it in.

The provided pamphlet states a full charge in one hour, plenty of time for you to get a grip on yourself, the last thing you needed was to rip open your blinds and come face to face with your hot neighbor with the crazy eyes you’re sure you were sporting earlier, you really didn’t need to scare him off before the main event.

Jungkook is none the wiser as he mindlessly scrolls through the endless data in front of him, eyes floating through the numbers in a dazed manner, his mind far too occupied with that stupid package. He knew exactly what it was, proudly deciphering the code of something for sore muscles to spell out vibrator for him in giant neon letters.

Were you using it now, in your bedroom a good feet away from his own, laid out on your bed directly in his line of sight?

His mind continues to play out salacious scenarios as you finish applying your favorite lotion after the small body shower you took, the silk robe hanging off your shoulder as you bend forward. Your pink toy lays on your bed, the buttons now blinking to indicate a full charge, your plan was now back in motion.

As you step back into your room and slowly crack open your blinds you realize Jungkook’s are still tightly shut. Looking up into the slowly darkening sky you notice the clouds beginning to loom overhead, a smile spreading on your lips as you think of a way to get Jungkook to open up his blinds for the show.

Jungkook’s phone buzzes with a text a few seconds later, eyes widening slightly when he realizes it’s from you.

Y/N 7:02pm : lol does it look like its gonna rain to you?

His head tilts in confusion at your question, nonetheless he stands from his desk, fully sliding up his blinds to stare up at the sky. When he notices the grey clouds he looks down at his phone to start to type, the small flash of movement from across the way making him freeze, looking directly through your window once more and seeing you innocently sitting on your bed, staring right at him with a smile.

Jungkook can feel how wide his eyes get as he stares at you, leg crossed over the other as you rest back onto your palms, head tilted as you wave at him in greeting. Right where you want him.

His hand raises up to wave back at you, the voice in his head screaming every obscenity he could think of as he attempts to smile, the grimace in his face making it hard for you not to laugh.

You start slow, wanting to give him enough time to shut his blinds if he really wants no part in this, your hand coming up to begin pushing the robe off your shoulder further, the first sliver of skin being exposed to his eyes. Jungkook wants to scream, bang his head into the glass as he sees the way your skin glimmers, already knowing you had lathered on that damn lotion of yours.

When he doesn’t move you let the other sleeve fall down, the swell of your breasts holding up the soft material, shielding them from his sight for another moment. Your eyes never leave his face, needing to see his reaction when you sit up straight and let the material pool around your hips, tits fully exposed for him to see.

His reaction is well worth it, jaw dropping slightly as he spots the way your nipples harden in the exposed air, forehead nearly ramming into the window when you bring your hand up to pinch and twist at the pebbled buds. He feels his cock stirring in his pants when your head drops back, lips opening up to let out what he knows is the prettiest moan, head leveling out as you bite your lip and stare at him once more.

Jungkook doesn’t know what to do as he watches you, champagne colored robe still hooked around your elbows as you reach behind your bed and pick up the pink toy you had bought today. The metallic capped bottom shines in the light and he feels like he’s caught in a trance as you showcase it.

For a moment your attention drops down, landing on your phone as you quickly type out a message before setting it aside once more. His phone comes to life in his hand, nearly scaring him with its vibrations.

Y/N 7:18pm : touch yourself please

He swears he’s gonna bust his load then and there, typing out a quick ‘okay’, a message you ignore entirely in favor of turning on your toy. The excited look in your eyes is clear as day when the device buzzes in your hand, Jungkook’s eager fingers unbuttoning his jeans as you start to trail the vibrating head along your body, passing over your nipples and gasping at the ticklish feeling.

Looking across the way once more you see Jungkook’s gaze locked onto you, his body fully illuminated by his bedroom light, allowing you to see his hands start to push his pants down, taking his black briefs with them. Your teeth bite down onto your bottom lip as he raises his palm up to messily spit into it before coming back down to fist his slowly hardening cock. His covered chest rises and falls as he huffs out a breath, slowly squeezing his shaft as he glides up towards his head, coating his palm in the stray beads of precum that drip out of it.

This further solidified that Jungkook was a pervert, at least in his own mind, who else would be so eager to jack off to the sight of their neighbor this easily. You didn’t think so though, knowing every one of your actions had a purpose, Jungkook wasn’t a pervert for being a predictable boy, he was doing exactly what you wanted him to do.

As the head of your toy trails down your chest you take your time, circling your navel before reaching your hips, sliding down your thighs as you lean further back and begin to spread them apart. In a slow movement that Jungkook can’t look away from, you finally reveal yourself to him, folds glistening with your arousal, coating your inner thighs, allowing the toy to glide with ease.

Jungkook groans loudly as you pass the buzzing toy over your clit, a featherlike touch that makes you twitch and moan, his hand tightening around his cock as he twists on the way up. You were absolutely sin personified, giving him a show as you tease yourself, mouth dropped open as you finally press the toy against your clit, fingers slipping into your entrance and pumping inside of you. He can only imagine the way you sound as you stretch yourself open, hips rolling up into your hand as the pleasure jolts through you.

Fuck, what he would do to be able to touch you, hear your moans, be the one to hold that toy against you until you were writhing around.

You can see it in his eyes, the want clouding them as he watches you, his hand steadily pumping his length, quickening up each time your body twitches. When you pull the toy away his brows furrow, releasing his cock as he places his sticky palm against the window, wondering just what you were planning now as you reach for your phone once more.

It only takes you a few seconds to type out the message and hit send, looking up at him with that same predatory gaze you’ve been wearing all night. As he unlocks his phone again you stand up, letting the robe fully slide off your body, pooling around your feet as you step closer to your window, arms crossed under your chest to push your tits out further as you watch him.

Y/N 7:32pm : come over

He rereads the message three times, cock still out for you to see as he contemplates his options, finally looking back up and nearly choking when he sees the way you’re almost pressed against your own window, a sweet smile on your lips as you wave him over. That helps him make his decision, locking his phone and groaning as he slips his cock back into his briefs and shimmies his pants back on.

Your eyes gleam as he turns to exit his room, the light dimming off as he bolts down his stairs towards his front door. When he steps out onto his porch he sees the ground is damp, small droplets now falling from the sky, the chill creeping through his thin layers as he navigates across your connected driveways with his palms covering his extremely prominent bulge.

“Please be unlocked,” he whispers under his breath when he gets to your door, turning the knob and sighing in relief when it unlocks. Jungkook doesn’t care about manners as he steps in, locking the door behind him and instantly climbing the stairs two at a time, already knowing where your room was since your house was a mirror copy of his own.

When he finally pushes his door open he finds you perched on your bed, fully naked and waiting for him with that same toy trailing up and down your torso. The need for introductions are thrown out the window as he crosses the room, immediately settling beside you, his large hand cupping your cheek to pull you in for a kiss.

It catches you by surprise, the normally shy neighbor who got nervous whenever you caught him staring, never expecting him to be the type to go after what he wanted like this but the way he takes control makes you lean into his touch. His lips are tender against yours, hand guiding your face closer as he slowly licks his way into your mouth, a moan of approval leaving you as his warm tongue tickles yours.

You’d often fantasized about kissing him, wondering if he was the type to tease, to pull back and leave you wanting more but the desperation guides his movements, stops him from not fulfilling his own desires. Jungkook kisses you with passion, hunger leading him until he’s pushing you flat on your back, hands dropping down to gently hold onto your neck.

The toy is cast to the side, your own hands sliding through his long hair as you sigh into his mouth, the wet smacks of each kiss filling your ears.

“Take it off,” you mumble against his lips, trailing your hands down his back and tugging his shirt up, determined to rip it off of him to finally see the glorious body you know he has. Jungkook presses a quick kiss against you before kneeling up and pulling his shirt off by his neckline, each inch of exposed skin making your mouth water.

The way his muscles rippled, pulled taut as he stretches out and tosses the black long sleeve aside, bulging out when he finally relaxes, you can’t help but let your fingers trace each ridge on his stomach. Jungkook lets you take him in, not opposed to the lust swirling in your eyes, your tongue licking over your lips as you admire him, following the lines of each tattoo up his arm until you reach his face.

“Like what you see?” he murmurs, looking down at you with lidded eyes, letting them roam along your body, the swell of your tits that rise with each breath, how your hips can’t keep still, searching for any bit of friction you could find.

“You’re fucking unreal.”

He holds his breath when you begin undoing his pants, in a hurry to see his cock without the distance between you. “This is what you wanted isn’t it?” he realizes, the completely unphased look on your face, the perfectly executed texts and package delivery, just knowing that he had done everything you wanted him to do.

“It was fun though wasn’t it Jungkook, tell me–“ he helps you tug his jeans down, his briefs going with them and joining his shirt on the floor, “What did you like more, seeing me do everyday things or watching me play with myself?”

A choked groan slips past his lips as you wrap your hand around his cock, slowly sliding up his length as you question him, enjoying the way he struggles to respond. “God you’re filthy,” he grunts, jaw slack as you sit up, face now level with his cock as he rests on his knees.

The sly smirk you give him shows that you know this, know exactly how filthy you are, using it to your advantage to get what you wanted. With bated breath he watches the way you inch forward, tongue sticking out to gently lick the swollen head of his cock, the salty bead of precum picked up by your tongue.

“Can’t help it.” You sink onto him as the words leave your mouth, lips wrapping around him and he sighs at the warmth that envelops him, the wetness of your tongue circling his tip making his stomach tense up, muscles flexing to keep himself from thrusting into your throat.

The small moan you let out as he fills your mouth makes his body rattle, the feeling of his dick heavy on your tongue as you slide further down, wrapping your hand around the base to steady yourself. This was much more satisfying than seeing him play with himself a few feet away, the sighs of appreciation that float in the air each time you pull back make you keep going, wanting to see him fall apart.

Jungkook doesn’t know when his hands tangle themselves in your hair, taking it upon himself to guide you up and down his length, starting a filthy rhythm that lit his body up. He urges you down more, hands coaxing you, pushing you further onto him until you’re choking as he fills your throat. He doesn’t think you’ve ever looked prettier, eyes full of tears, nose pressed against his stomach as you hum around his cock.

He pulls you off of him a few seconds later, the wet gasp you let out ripping through the air as you catch your breath but that sly smile remains on your face, eyeing his messy length, bobbing slightly as he moves around.

Leaning over you once more his hands cup your face, thumb rubbing under your eyes where he spots the unshed tears threatening to spill over, collecting against your lower lashes. “Fuck, I bet you’re pretty when you cry.”

The rasp in his voice makes your stomach flip, more wetness coating your thighs and further ruining your sheets. “Make me,” you whisper, smiling when his eyebrows raise in question. “Make me cry Jungkook.”

His cock throbs at your response, wanting nothing more than to do what you want, turn you into a crying mess as you beg for him like he often thought about. “You sure?”

With a small nod you’re crawling backwards, flipping yourself over onto your hands and knees, arching your back for him as he eyes your exposed cunt, sodden folds shining when you wiggle your hips. “I’m sure.”

Jungkook fists his cock as he approaches you, slotting his knees between your thighs, inching forward until he’s circling your entrance in a teasing motion. Flashes of the way you had spread yourself open minutes prior play in his mind as he slowly breaches your entrance, the first feeling of you taking his breath away, eyes falling shut as you let out the first moan.

Your hands fist the sheets as he stretches you open, his size filling you up so deliciously, inch by inch splitting you open. He can’t look away from it, mesmerized with the way you take him in, molding around him like he was meant to be there.

A whimper leaves you as he presses his palms onto your ass, holding you still once he finally bottoms out, hips pressed flush against you, walls fluttering around him as he gives you time to adjust to his size.

“This is–“ you groan when he slides back a little, “this is just how I pictured it.” The laughter laced in your voice piques his interest, leaning over your body to see you with your face pressed against your sheets, a teasing smile on your face.

“Yeah?” Jungkook questions, tightening his grip on your ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh, no doubt marking them for you to see later. “You pictured getting fucked from behind by your neighbor?”

“Mhm,” you squeal out, giggling when he starts to fuck into you, pulling out nearly all the way before thrusting back in, the small smack of your skin mixing in with your laughter and moans.

“I knew it,” he grunts, trailing his hand up your spine, around your neck until his palm was pressing your face into the mattress, holding you down as he ravished you, stretched you apart and turned your impure thoughts into mush. “Knew you did it on purpose, fuck, do you know how guilty I felt?”

Your walls tighten around him and he moans out at the feeling, the warmth sucking him back in each time he pulled out, the wet squelch of you soaking his cock getting louder each time.

“S-sorry.” It's quiet, but he knows you don’t mean it, knows the words are lace with trouble as you start to rut back onto him, the playful smile felt against his palm spelling it out for him.

“Oh you’re sorry?” Jungkook picks up his merciless pace, knowing he found the right rhythm when you let out a cry of surprise, arching further for him and keening as he nudges against your sweet spot, the first sparks of your orgasm flashing within you. The fact that you were getting what you want sending you closer to the edge faster than expected.

“No, I’m not,” you admit, shamelessly moaning with each thrust. There was no way in hell you were sorry, if this was the outcome you’d do it all again the same exact way. Jungkook wouldn’t argue with that, the earlier guilt he felt long gone, replaced with pure hunger, only increasing when your moans start to get breathier, the panting felt against his hand, hot and heavy as you whimpered.

“I know you’re not, you love putting on a show for me huh, knowing I was watching you from my window while you fucked with me.”

His words make your mind spin, the intoxicating roll of his hips dragging you under into the same state of desperation he was in, weeks of mindless torture fueling the both of you with more than enough sexual frustration.

“I loved it,” you whine when he pushes your face harder into the sheets, the roughness he’s displaying making your stomach flip, thighs spreading out further for him and you let out a trembling moan when he sinks deeper into you.

You were going to cum, he recognized the way your body tightened up, walls clamping around him, making him curse as he continues to rut into you. Jungkook smiles as you cry out, chest pushing into your mattress, hands pulling at your sheets in desperation until suddenly, you’re cumming with a shout of his name, the feeling taking you completely by surprise. “F-fuck, Jungkook.”

He gasps as you gush around him, dripping down your thighs, creaming his cock until it's slick with your arousal. Jungkook doesn’t waste any time pulling out of you, needing to see your face as he sank back into you, now on your back with a dazed out smile.

A soft groan drips off your tongue, thick and needy when he bottoms out once more, arms wrapping around his shoulders as he starts to rock into you, forehead sweaty with his long hair falling around his face. It frames him perfectly, a simple curtain letting you see every expression he gives you, a private show just for you to witness.

“Wanna make you cry,” he confesses, bending down and kissing your chest, his right hand mindlessly swatting at the bed until he finds exactly what he’s looking for, that damn vibrator he had guarded with his life earlier.

The second the small vibrations meet your ears, your eyes go wide, catching the evil smirk on his lips as he holds the toy between you, fidgeting with the settings until it’s low enough to start. “Wait Jungkook, I’m sensitive.”

He leans back enough to trail the head down your stomach, taunting you as he circles your hips and reaches your mound. “You told me to make you cry though didn’t you baby?”

The excitement rushes through you once more, letting out shaky gasp as he just barely touches your sensitive clit, your body jolting and squeezing around his cock. Jungkook shuts his eyes at the feeling, bringing it back to rest against the tiny pearl, the low settings making a hum course through you, your fingers digging into his shoulders.

“Ah, Jungkook,” you cry, chest heaving as he starts to fuck you again, hips swirling around, unsure if you want to retreat from the toy or press against it harder, the slight sting of pain morphing into pleasure the longer he keeps it up.

“What?” he mocks, raising the settings until you’re shouting, a delirious laugh following suit as your thighs tighten around his waist in reflex. Jungkook knows you love this, your teeth biting down onto your bottom lip as you stare at him with glassy eyes full of tears, urging him to fuck you harder, begging him for more.

He does what you ask, pistoning his hips into you with enough force to jostle your body, the head of his cock just shy of hitting your cervix, waves of pleasure mixing in with the vibrations against your clit. Jungkook can feel his own orgasm creeping up on him, crawling up his spine, goosebumps flaring out on his skin, each wet thrust and cry from you only pushing him closer.

Jungkook watches you carefully, lost in his own pleasure but focused enough to see the way your eyes well up further, the needy sobs you release as he fucks you just right wrapping around him and urging him on, not wanting to hold back when this is what you’ve been wanting.

The small inkling to be mean and actually see the tears fall spurs something inside of him. With a few more clicks the vibrator hits the highest setting, buzzing intensely against your clit and you nearly thrash at the sudden feeling, back arching up as you gasp.

Jungkook chuckles, the low timbre making you whimper as he presses the head of the toy harder against you. “You gonna cum again, make a big mess around my cock?”

“Jungkook,” it’s a choked cry of his name, your arms seeking purchase around his frame, needing something to ground you as you start to float off.

“C’mon, wanna see you cry.” He watches in awe as your body tenses of for a moment, the pleasure catching just right to push you over.

“Fuck, fuck–“ you chant, words slurring together as a second orgasm is pulled out of you, eyes rolling back when the euphoric feeling crashes over you, tears finally spilling over and body turning limp as he continues to fuck you through it just like the last one. He feels like he won as the wetness pools under your eyes, brows furrowing together as you mewl at the feeling of your orgasm cresting, heartbeat slowing in your chest as you come down.

“So good,” he mumbles at the high vibrations felt against his cock, the flutters from your velvety walls keeping him from turning it off, sliding it down a bit closer to your entrance until he’s gasping as well.

“Too much,” you plead, eyes misty as you stare at him, mouth dropping open in a quiet moan when he ruts against you in search of his own release. His free hand reaches up to cup your cheek, wiping away the stray tears that had fallen against your skin.

“I knew you’d look pretty when you cry.” He sighs, shutting his eyes when you pulse around his length. “I’m almost there, you okay?”

His concern makes you smile, nodding as you place your hand over his own on your face, dealing with the oversensitivity for him to get his own release. “Yeah, cum inside me please.”

Jungkook groans in response, sliding the vibrator further down until it rests against the base of his cock, gliding along his length with each of his thrusts, the buzzing making his body tingle.

“Shit,” he grunts out, hips fucking you with more urgency, rutting against you sloppily, eyes opening up to stare directly at you and the lustfilled look you give him is what pushes him over. A choked groan dies in his throat when he sinks into you as deep as he can, spurts of his cum filling you up as his face twists in pleasure, mouth dropped open to release a soft moan that you swallow with a sweet kiss.

You hum against his lips when he thrusts shallowly a few more times until finally coming to a halt, turning off the toy and chucking it aside with no care before collapsing on top of you in pure dramatics. Jungkook has no qualms about how much he weighs, making himself right at home as he nuzzles into your chest, sighing in content when you rake your fingers through his hair.

“I feel sweaty, and I know I made a mess on your sheets.” Jungkook mumbles out, cheek pressed against your tits, eyes slipped shut with his slowly softening cock still inside of you. No doubt would your sheets be damp with an unholy mixture of the night's debauchery, something you would surely deal with later.

“It’s okay, I like the mess.” Your words are meant to be joking but the way his cock twitches inside you shows he takes everything you say seriously, simply rolling your eyes with a smile as you tease him further. “You’re a pervert.”

Jungkook scoffs at this now, taking full offense as he pulls out of you with an accusatory glare, eyes zeroing in on your evil smile as you prop yourself up against your headboard. “I’m the pervert?” When you nod he laughs loudly, finger pointing at you in a less than threatening manner, “Says the one who gave me free shows every night!”

“It’s not my fault you’re easy to rope in, you were hooked the second you saw me have that dance party in here huh?”

He nods instantly, knowing exactly what night you were talking about, it was the night he had moved in, before you had even realized he was your neighbor, having a full on dance party to some top 40’s from the 2000’s playlist you found. That was the first night he ever saw you and ever since then he had left his blinds cracked just to see a glimpse of you, not knowing what lewd ideas you had planned.

“Was it the facemask that did it for you?” You laugh, playfully nudging his side with your foot as he glares, the small smile on his face showing you he wasn’t taking this seriously.

“No, it was those sexy ass boyshorts you had on, I think they were grey. They made your ass look nice.”

He laughs with you as you squeal, knowing exactly what pair of underwear you had on, the oversized shirt doing nothing to hide them as you danced around like a lunatic.

“Is this gonna be a thing?” he wonders, taking it upon himself to enter your bathroom to grab a towel, the least he could do was clean up the mess he had caused between your thighs.

“What?”

“Should I text you about the weather tomorrow, call you over to mine this time? I’ll let you choke me if you’re into that.” He says it so casually it catches you by surprise, a cackle leaving you as he finishes cleaning you up, handing you your robe to cover up as he slips back into his underwear.

“Are you into that?”

“I could be,” he winks, flopping onto your bed beside you, letting his hand trail up your thigh until it reaches the hem of your robe, tracing the goosebumps that flare up because of it.

That was definitely something you could work with, mind already planning out the next time you’d torture your neighbor, wondering just how your hands would look like wrapped around his thick neck. Maybe you could see if he looked pretty when he cried.

He spots the mischief in your face instantly but before he could indulge you further, there was one thing absolutely eating away at his mind. “By the way, you never added me to that gossip group chat.”

Your lips purse into a tight smile as your fingers return to his hair, twirling each strand as you hold back a laugh, knowing it absolutely did not exist. You weren’t in the mood to crush his spirit, knowing he desperately wanted to know the ins of the neighborhood gossip so you simply shrug in faux apology, telling yet another white lie. “My bad, I’ll add you tomorrow.”

It’s good enough for Jungkook pressing a kiss against your thigh as he thinks of what the following night will bring, his mind also picturing just how cute your hands would look around his neck.

#ficswithluv #btswritingcafe #btsghostie #goldenclosetnet #heartsforbts #jungkook smut #jeongguk smut #jungkook #jeon jungkook #bts smut #new

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rukia-simp · 3 years ago

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Rukia’s Feelings

Let's discuss feelings in Bleach because there's a lot of double standards here and it hurts me to watch people think they've "debunked" arguments but they only told a vague fairy tale. That's why I'm saying that Rukia had fallen in love earlier than you think. In fact I would even say that she fell in love before Orihime. Orihime may have had a crush on Ichigo first, but she never said “love” until the arrancar saga.

Rukia fell in love first. In fact there's textual evidence for this. We all know this iconic scene. Kubo was never into romantic tales, however he wouldn't pull this BS out of his ass for shits and giggles. He's not that kind of writer. Every scene has purpose! Stop the disrespect!

This scene isn't meant for fanservice. It's meant for setting up motive. Why does Rukia want to leave?

Before I answer that. Ladies and Gentlemen, this is what literary analysis calls DRAMATIC IRONY. In which the audience knows something that characters might not know. For example like when we know Isshin is a Shinigami, but Ichigo doesn't know. We know Rukia's true feelings but Ichigo and other people don't because they obviously can't read her inner monologue. Ichigo can't read her motives until her tears tell him the truth. Now to answer the original question above. She left because she was afraid that if she stayed any longer in the living world, her already developing feelings would make it harder to leave later on. She needed to get out of Ichigo's proximity so that her attachment can't be used as leverage or puts him in danger. After all it was her emotional attachment to Kaien that allows her to identify every emotion that she's feeling at this moment in the story. She doesn't want to bring Ichigo the same demise as Kaien. It's because of her emotions that Kaien's death hit her so hard. Without emotions and that attachment to Kaien, it would have been just another death in the Soul Society. Why is this important? Because Rukia's trying to learn from her past. Ichigo's stubbornness messes up her plan, but it's also what ends up saving them in the long term. She runs away with the hope of forgetting all of her experiences with Ichigo. Ichigo did the same thing Kaien did with Rukia in the 13th division. Ichigo didn't make her feel alone or like an outcast. They both treated her the way she always hoped people would treat her. With respect, and as an equal. She never wanted to be put down nor be put on a pedestal because of her last name. Or because of her rank. But everyone did, even her future husband. The only two people who canonically didn’t was Ichigo and his cousin. Rukia just has a weak side for men like that. Rukia has a type unlike Orihime. We know why she loves Ichigo, but there's no clear reason as to why Orihime does. It's very broad, and not narrowed down to a specific reason. Which makes her crush easy to attack with no actual solid defense. I can tell you EXACTLY where Ichigo and Rukia's relationship changed from salty coworkers to immediately more than friends. I've reread Bleach multiple time, and have yet to see the exact moment where Ichigo and Orihime's feelings change. Most of it looks like it's offscreen.

Just so no one gets confused. I'm referring to this scene. This was where Ichigo and Rukia's relationship could never go back to being coworkers and friends.

Anyways, people like to argue that Orihime is the one that likes him so she is guaranteed that "happy" ending. I call BS because Nel and Riruka had just as much infatuation with our protagonist, but all I see is them getting the short end of the stick. Orihime IS NOT SPECIAL. But Rukia IS special. This woman "COINCIDENTALLY" has a paralleled past to our protagonist. She "COINCIDENTALLY" spent Ichigo's entire past arc as his only form of foundation and support. And she "COINCIDENTALLY" is the one to be asked about HER feelings because she's not as open about her emotions, since she's a SHINIGAMI. Shinigami have LITERALLY been taught to not be emotional. Duty before love. Rukia's characterization and occupation don’t allow her to confess straight up. Orihime has the privilege of no limitations. Rukia isn't as lucky! Why the hell would Kubo emphasize this so much for it be a fecking dead end?!

But that's why Rukia's confession is in the form of denial. Because in order to keep her IN CHARACTER, Kubo needs to write a confession that sounds like Rukia. He must emphasize how strong her feelings are. They are so strong that they overcome her usual stoicism, sternness.

Byakuya himself knew that Rukia only showed this much emotion towards Kaien. That's why he concluded that there's something special about Ichigo. He has identified the pattern.

All of this had purpose. I refuse to believe it was all for nothing. This scene was a confession, and just a sad reminder that unfortunately Ichigo and Rukia's ending was always on a tight rope. He put too much effort into their relationship. He put a freakish amount of effort into their relationship. And honestly this makes the story make more sense, in my opinion. Think about it like this. If Rukia was not in love in this scene then it wouldn’t be as memorable in the Ichiruki fandom. And Rukia would be a completely different character. By Rukia already having feelings they stimulate Ichigo into finding out his own feelings (which is in the Lost Agent Arc). And it makes sense because Rukia might fall easier, but she’s more passive when it comes to answering to her desires. Just look back at her past with Kaien, and her reaction towards his wife. She’s not the type to pursue feelings. But Ichigo is more aggressive than her. But he’s more dense as well. Ichigo is the type to initiate the relationship, but he has to be aware of it. How can you be aware of it if your dense? I mean the fact that Ichigo is dense about Orihime’s blatant feelings can’t be a coincidence. For me, it almost seems like Ichigo is dense, not because he’s not meant to see Orihime’s feelings, but because it makes it harder for him to identify his own feelings for a certain person (personally I thought and still think that it’s supposed to be Rukia). It delays endgames, and allows for more satisfying development. However, this could just be my optimism speaking, but I don't think Kubo is stupid. But that time frame for TYBW was ridiculous and I truly believe it was a factor in their final decisions. But I might be blinded by my optimism. Well anyway, this was another piece of analysis. Just want to call out some hypocrites. I'm right now putting on the table that Rukia arguably has just as much feelings for Ichigo. So the argument that Orihime is "obligated" to Ichigo's love is too vague. It's a horrible argument, but I'm always open to discussion. Respectfully of course. But then again this is social media so...

My next analysis is probably going to be on this gorgeous scene. I'm just going to explain its significance and what makes it an irrefutable Ichigo and Rukia moment. Please look forward to that! Thank you to everyone that read this far. Have a wonderful day!

Also no hate on Renji and Orihime. I know Renji thought he had good intentions, but if he's so special then he should have been able to fix it before 40 years of no interactions. And Orihime is a sweetie, but her unrealistic look on life is just too polar to my look on life. I'm a realist. I can't get behind that especially when she basically gets everything handed to her without much consequence. Reality would have hit normal women in the face if they were in Orihime's position. To me that's not a good message to teach to anyone.

Anyway thanks for reading! Love y’all!

#bleach #ichiruki #pro ichiruki #analysis #literary analysis #tite kubo #ichigo kurosaki #rukia kuchiki #I love doing this so much #i love their dynamic #pro bleach

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makeste · 4 years ago

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is it too late now to say sorry

anon I agree with almost all of this for the most part, but if you don’t mind I would like to come to Kacchan’s defense here a little bit. while he absolutely does need to apologize to Izuku, there are reasons why he hasn’t done so yet which boil down to a lot more than simply “he’s still a dick.”

anyway, so for my next trick, I will take the thesis statement of “Kacchan is afraid to apologize to Deku for both selfish and unselfish reasons, and Deku doesn’t realize how much he needs to hear the apology because he pays no attention to his own needs”, and somehow transform that into a 3500 word rant lol.

first of all, I’ve said this before, but on the topic of whether or not Katsuki actually needs to apologize to Deku at all, my answer is an emphatic “yes.” is it necessary in order for him to earn Deku’s forgiveness? no. in fact I’m pretty sure Deku has already forgiven him. because that kid doesn’t have a petty bone in his body (not that wanting an apology from your friend who basically turned on you and made your life miserable for ten years and told you to go kill yourself is in any way petty at all), and because he has staunchly held on to what he could of their relationship throughout that entire time, hoping that one day they could somehow be friends again. Kacchan never stopped being “Kacchan” to him. Deku never stopped caring about him. and that goes beyond him simply being a good person; there’s also just an attachment there, for lack of a better word, that he is simply unwilling to give up. their friendship is that important to him. Kacchan is that important to him.

but just because Katsuki is almost guaranteed forgiveness from Izuku doesn’t mean the apology isn’t still owed. putting aside that it’s really the least he could do, I think an apology is also necessary in order for their friendship to ever move past the level it’s currently stuck at, for one simple reason: Izuku doesn’t actually know that Katsuki cares.

more specifically, he doesn’t know that Katsuki actually cares about him. because Katsuki, for various reasons which I’ll get to momentarily, has done such a spectacular job of hiding this fact that he even fooled a lot of us for a very long time. before chapter 284 came along, there was hardly any evidence at all that Katsuki actually cared about Izuku as a person beyond just the requisite, bare minimum level of “well I don’t actually want you to die or anything, because I’m not a complete shithead.”

because he hides it. and he hides it on purpose, which is a mind-blowing revelation I’m still only just starting to wrap my head around. it’s an act. all of his continued hostility toward Izuku since the Endeavor internship arc -- and possibly going even further back than that; possibly going all the way back to their second Ground Beta fight -- has been an act. here he is, continuing to bitch at him at every turn and basically doing everything he can to remind Izuku that They Are Rivals And Nothing More, and he has played that role so perfectly that hardly anyone suspected what was actually going on.

he cares about Izuku. not just subconsciously on a level where he’s in denial about it, but to a fully conscious and aware degree. he’s dedicated himself to helping Izuku as his way of trying to make amends. that’s a decision he consciously made, something he’s given a lot of thought to. he worries about Izuku. he worries about his selflessness and his recklessness and that one day he’ll take it too far and it will go terribly wrong. he worries about One For All and All For One, and about the legacy his friend has inherited that’s so much bigger than him, and which he knows Izuku won’t hesitate to sacrifice himself for if it ever comes to that. he worries. he cares.

and Izuku does not know this. and he deserves to know this. and that’s why the apology is so important. not because it’s a magic sentence that will miraculously restore the ten years of friendship and trust that was lost between them, or heal the ten years of pain and misery that Izuku went through alone and friendless, because nothing can ever restore or heal that. as a gesture, an apology is nice, but it’s also fairly useless, at least on its own. it’s meaningless without action to support it, and rather pales in significance when held up against the LITERAL DECADE of misery that it’s trying to make up for.

but the reason it’s still so, so important in spite of all this is because Izuku doesn’t know that Katsuki cares about him. he doesn’t know that their friendship isn’t just one-sided. he does know that Katsuki is a good person, and that he has a good core beneath his prickly exterior. and he’s more adept than most people at seeing past Katsuki’s outer shell of bullshit and understanding what lies beneath. but he has a blind spot, and that blind spot is himself.

he hasn’t made the connection between “Kacchan is a good person who cares about other people and is trying to do the right thing” to “Kacchan cares about me.” because Kacchan has been diligent in making sure that every time Izuku does start to make that connection, that he shoots it back down and disproves it as vehemently as he can.

which, just to be clear, is actually a huge load of bull, as we now know. huh.

but anyway. the point is that Katsuki is still hiding this part of himself from Izuku. the fact that he actually cares. the fact that their friendship is reciprocated on a level that goes beyond just rivalry and shared secrets and a mutual admiration for All Might. Izuku doesn’t know yet how much Katsuki cares about him, and he deserves to know.

and that’s why the apology is important. not because the words themselves are important, but because he deserves to know that Katsuki is sorry. he deserves to know that Katsuki cares about him. he deserves to know that he’s valued, that Katsuki sees him as someone who has value. he deserves that. and that, more than anything else, is why the apology is needed, and why it’s important for him to actually hear those words. because Katsuki was spot on when he said that Izuku doesn’t see himself in the way that he should, and I think he needs this to help him understand a little better just how much value he actually has.

so that’s part one of my rant! and now we move on to part two, which can basically be summarized as “okay but then WHY has Katsuki not just FUCKING APOLOGIZED TO HIM ALREADY.” because yeah, though. at the end of the day, this is all on him. and he does care, and he is sorry. so then what is still holding him back??

and that... is complicated. and it basically boils down to four things.

1. it’s insufficient.

ten years. all the way back to when they were four years old and Izuku first learned that he didn’t have a quirk. ten years of Katsuki bullying him and distancing himself from him. ten years of pain and isolation and unhappiness that Izuku absolutely did not deserve.

and yes, it ultimately stemmed from a misunderstanding, but that doesn’t make it right in the least. there’s absolutely no justification for it. Katsuki knew that it was wrong and he acted like that nonetheless. and anyone who says that Izuku in any way brought it on himself, that it’s in any way his fault or that he invited it on himself by not leaving Katsuki alone -- you can miss me with that, tbh. he was a child and he was lonely and confused and didn’t understand why his best friend had suddenly turned his back on him. this was the most vulnerable period in his life, and the person who should have had his back ended up being the person who made it even worse for him instead. and even after Izuku grew out of the so-called stalking and actually did mind his own business, and just admired Katsuki from a distance -- that still wasn’t enough to appease Katsuki either. even just the mere mention of Izuku wanting to go to U.A. was enough to set him off worse than ever before. that was absolutely not Izuku’s fault in any way, and I’m positive that even Katsuki himself would agree. Katsuki was terrible. I can’t emphasize enough just how terrible he was.

so yeah. ten years of that. and now Katsuki finally realizes just how awful it was. and he’s sorry! and he regrets it, a lot, and he wants to atone for it.

but now here’s problem number one: when you put it up in comparison to ALL OF THAT, an apology just feels overwhelmingly inadequate. almost laughably so. and Katsuki may be a bit emotionally dense (although perhaps less so than we always thought), but he’s sharp enough to realize this much, at least. it’s almost pathetic to simply try saying “I’m sorry” after all of that, and expect it to mean anything at all. it’s not enough. it’s so much not enough that I imagine he must almost feel helpless just imagining it. the weight of everything he’s done is so much, and an apology isn’t enough to undo any of it. it’s not even close.

Katsuki isn’t someone who backs down from things easily, but the sheer scale of the mistakes he’s trying to grapple with now is enough to give just about anyone pause. how do you even begin to address something like that? how can you even begin to make up for it? and Katsuki isn’t stupid, and I have to imagine that everything he saw during that first week of interning with Endeavor only cemented this for him. an apology simply isn’t enough. not for something like this.

2. it’s unfamiliar.

reason number two! and this one is a bit selfish on his part, yeah. but Katsuki is still just a kid too. and his falling out with Izuku didn’t only have a negative impact on Izuku; it hurt Katsuki as well. he lost that friendship too. he thought Izuku was looking down on him, and I’m certain that hurt him a lot more than he ever let on. if you trust someone and care about them only to have them turn on you like that (even though he got it wrong and it was ultimately all just in his head) -- that hurts. it’s not a coincidence that he became closed off and mean afterwards, and that even now he’s resistant to letting other people get close to him. for all that it was more or less self-inflicted, it still had a huge impact.

but now he’s learned that Izuku was never looking down on him at all and that he had it wrong this whole time. and as a result, he’s gotten this chance now to try and rebuild the childhood friendship that he almost destroyed. and make no mistake, this is something he wants too. it’s not just Izuku who’s grateful to have this chance to have normal interactions with the other again. this is something both of them value, and Katsuki doesn’t want to ruin it this time.

so he’s picking up where he left off! only the thing is, this involves him reverting to a blueprint that hasn’t been updated since the two of them were four years old, lol. “normal” for them is him being a bossy little snot, and Izuku happily shrugging it off with all of his limitless nerdy enthusiasm as they go about their various misadventures together. it’s a script that hasn’t changed since they were children, and one they’re both still more than content to use, but it is an outdated script nonetheless. Katsuki is playing the role that Izuku expects him to play. and it’s not like he’s being dishonest or anything like that, because that’s still him; he’s still his same old short-tempered, argumentative self, and it’s not like his personality has done a complete 180 or anything like that.

but at the same time, there’s a calmer side to him now which he is deliberately keeping hidden from Izuku because it’s off-script for them. it’s unfamiliar ground. with Izuku, he’s always been this Kacchan:

and again, it’s not like he isn’t actually that person, especially when it comes to his old rival. but at the same time, there’s another side to him that he rarely if ever lets Izuku in particular see. Izuku never sees the quiet Kacchan who avoids other people’s eyes while he fiddles with his water bottle and calmly asks questions about the OFA successors. Izuku never sees the insightful Kacchan who opens up about his own regrets and weaknesses. there’s a level of emotional intimacy, for lack of a better term, that Katsuki has been unwilling to let them cross into. and if I had to guess why, my guess would be that it’s because Katsuki is afraid that changing up the formula now will lead to unfamiliar territory which may or may not end up completely upending their relationship just as it’s starting to grow into something actually solid again.

which brings me to reason #3!

3. he’s afraid.

Katsuki already experienced what it was like to fall out with Izuku. and again, for all that he was the cause of it, and that Izuku had it much, much worse, that doesn’t change the fact that it was a pretty terrible experience for him as well.

and look, we know Katsuki is afraid of losing Izuku. that’s confirmed canon now. he actually admitted that he was worried about Izuku, and that Izuku’s tendency to recklessly disregard his own wellbeing unsettled him and made him want to keep his distance. and he sacrificed himself to save Izuku’s life!! and did it automatically, unthinkingly, because the decision-making on his part was so fast it didn’t even register. that’s how much he cares. enough that his desire to protect Izuku now ranks higher than his own self-preservation.

and when something is that important to you, you will fight not to lose it. and Katsuki does not want to lose this. Izuku is important to him. by extension that means their friendship is important to him. and he wants to preserve that.

and the thing is, the apology is an obstacle to that. and he knows it. he knows he has to face it at some point, because he can’t atone without it. he has to take responsibility for what he did. he can’t keep running away from it forever.

but he also knows the potential consequences. he knows that apologies don’t always end in reconciliation. he knows falling-outs don’t always have a happy ending. he knows that forgiveness isn’t automatic, and that years of pain don’t just disappear just like that. and he recently got to see firsthand one possible way how it might all turn out.

he knows Izuku doesn’t have to forgive him. he knows Izuku might not forgive him. and he knows that he probably doesn’t deserve Izuku’s forgiveness, and that ultimately he does not have a say in the matter one way or the other. it’s Izuku’s choice, at the end of the day, and whatever he chooses Katsuki is going to have to accept it.

but you can know all of that, and accept the fact that you’re going to have to take responsibility, and yet still be afraid to face it. and yes, maybe it’s selfish of him to feel that way. but that selfishness is also human. it’s human to fear rejection, and it’s human to go through the various stages of trying to postpone having to face that. Katsuki is a brave kid, but he is just a kid, still. and this is going to be very hard for him to do. that doesn’t mean it doesn’t still have to be done. but I feel for him and I have a lot of empathy for the situation he’s currently in.

and there is also one last reason why I think he’s putting it off as well, and it just so happens that this reason actually isn’t selfish at all.

4. he doesn’t want false forgiveness.

and this one is ironically kind of at odds with reason #3! Katsuki fears the possibility of Izuku not forgiving him... but at the same time, I think that strangely enough, there’s also a part of him that fears being forgiven, just like that. easily and gladly and unconditionally, with the trademark selflessness that defines so many of Izuku’s other decisions.

“he just... deep down, he doesn’t take himself into account, y’know?”

Izuku rarely if ever takes himself into consideration, and Katsuki knows this. he’s selfless to a fault, and Katsuki knows this. and so if Katsuki were to come up to him and apologize, there’s the possibility that yes, Izuku might decide not forgive him. he might in fact be all “nah, you know what, fuck you,” as would certainly be within his rights.

but this is a very remote possibility, and we all know it. and Katsuki knows it too, I think. because that’s not who Izuku is. he puts other people’s welfare above his own, every time. and so if Katsuki were to break down and tell Izuku that he was sorry, and if he were to ask him for forgiveness, nine times out of ten that is something that Izuku grants instantly. this is the same kid who put his own life at risk to try and save Katsuki less than an hour after Katsuki told him to dive off a roof. Izuku’s instinct is to protect and save. and so if he sees that Katsuki is hurting; if he sees that Katsuki feels guilty for what he’s done and that it’s eating away at him in much the same way as when he was blaming himself for Kamino -- he is going to do what he always does. he is going to try and save him.

and he would do that even if it meant shoving down his own pain. he absolutely would. he would prioritize Katsuki’s feelings over his own. and if he did still feel any lingering resentment at how cruelly he was treated, he would still put it aside if need be. and he would forgive him.

in other words, the risk exists that Izuku might grant Katsuki forgiveness that he doesn’t actually feel. if Katsuki is granted Izuku’s forgiveness, he doesn’t have any way to actually tell for sure if it’s real. there would be that element of doubt there, that question of whether or not it’s really sincere. and something like that could ultimately poison their relationship, if things were allowed to play out that way. it would prevent them from being fully able to trust each other. ultimately, it might lead to them drifting apart again, and something like that might ultimately be even more painful than Izuku rejecting Katsuki’s apology outright. and there’s also an argument to be made that Izuku doesn’t deserve to be put on the spot like that, and forced to make that decision one way or the other when he might not be ready to yet. so there’s that to consider as well.

so yeah. four reasons why Katsuki has not apologized to Izuku yet. and they are good reasons, in my book. complicated reasons, too. but none of that changes the fact that at the end of the day this is still something he has to do. his current way of trying to atone through action is great, don’t get me wrong! and it’s necessary too for sure, because like I said, the apology just on its own is never going to be enough. he needs to commit to doing the right thing, and trying his best to make it right between them from here on out. and saving his life is certainly a decent start! but you still gotta say the words too eventually bro.

but there is just a ton of stuff at play here and I find it all fascinating tbh. they are just so, so bad at communicating with each other. and the thing is, they both actually want the same thing! but they want it so badly that ironically it’s almost holding them back right now, because they don’t want to put it at risk. but ultimately this is a leap of faith that Katsuki in particular is going to have to take sooner rather than later in order to finally restore that last bit of trust between the two of them.

so yeah. just two stupid teenage boys who fail at emotions, and who are probably overdue for another of their famous Get It All Out In The Open stupid shounen therapy battles lmao. round 3, featuring Deku’s new robot arms vs Katsuki and his shiny new “like father like son” All Might torso scar. sob.

#bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #bakudeku #bakugou meta #deku meta #bnha meta #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #asks #anon asks

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gwynsplainer · 3 years ago

Text

On The Grinning Man and the De-Politicization of L'Homme Qui Rit (a Spontaneous Essay)

Since I watched The Grinning Man I’ve been meaning to write a post comparing it to The Man Who Laughs but I have a lot of opinions and analysis I wanted to do so I have been putting it off for ages. So here goes! If I were to make a post where I explain everything the musical changes it would definitely go over the word limit, so I’ll mostly stick to the thematic. Let me know if that’s a post you’d like to see, though!

Ultimately, The Grinning Man isn’t really an adaptation of the Man Who Laughs. It keeps some of the major plot beats (a disfigured young man with a mysterious past raised by a man and his wolf to perform to make a living alongside the blind girl he rescued from the snow, restored to his aristocratic past by chance after their show is seen by Lord David and Duchess Josiana, and the interference of the scheming Barkilphedro…. well, that’s just about it). The problem I had with the show, however, wasn’t the plot points not syncing up, it was the thematic inconsistency with the book. By replacing the book’s antagonistic act—the existence of a privileged ruling class—with the actions of one or two individuals from the lower class, transforming the societal tragedy into a revenge plot, and reducing the pain of dehumanization and abuse to the pain of a physical wound, The Grinning Man is a sanitized, thematically weak failure to adapt The Man Who Laughs.

I think the main change is related to the reason I posit the book never made it in the English-speaking world. The musical was made in England, the setting of the book which was so critical of its monarchy, it’s aristocracy, and the failings of its society in ways that really haven’t been remedied so far. It might be a bit of a jump to assume this is connected, but I have evidence. They refer to it as a place somewhat like our own, but change King James to King Clarence, and Queen Anne to Angelica. Obviously, the events of the book are fictional, and it was a weird move for Hugo to implicate real historical figures as responsible for the torture of a child, but it clearly served a purpose in his political criticism that the creative team made a choice to erase. They didn’t just change the names, though, they replaced the responsibility completely. In the book, Gwynplaine’s disfigurement—I will be referring to him as Gwynplaine because I think the musical calling him Grinpayne was an incredibly stupid and cruel choice—was done to him very deliberately, with malice aforethought, at the order of the king. The king represents the oppression of the privileged, and having the fault be all Barkilphédro loses a lot thematically. The antagonism of the rich is replaced by the cruelty of an upwardly mobile poor man (Barkilphédro), and the complicity of another poor man.

The other “villain” of the original story is the way that Gwynplaine is treated. I think for 1869, this was a very ahead-of-its-time approach to disability, which almost resembles the contemporary understanding of the Social Model of disability. (Sidenote: I can’t argue on Déa’s behalf. Hugo really dropped the ball with her. I’m going to take a moment to shout out the musical for the strength and agency they gave Déa.) The way the public treats Gwynplaine was kind of absent from the show. I thought it was a very interesting and potentially good choice to have the audience enter the role of Gwynplaine’s audience (the first they see of him is onstage, performing as the Grinning Man) rather than the role of the reader (where we first see him as a child, fleeing a storm). If done right, this could have explored the story’s theme of our tendency to place our empathy on hold in order to be distracted and feel good, eventually returning to critique the audience’s complicity in Gwynplaine’s treatment. However, since Grinpayne’s suffering is primarily based in the angst caused by his missing past and the physical pain of his wound (long-healed into a network of scars in the book) [a quick side-note: I think it was refreshing to see chronic pain appear in media, you almost never see that, but I wish it wasn’t in place of the depth of the original story], the audience does not have to confront their role in his pain. They hardly play one. Instead, it is Barkilphédro, the singular villain, who is responsible for Grinpayne’s suffering. Absolving the audience and the systems of power which put us comfortably in our seats to watch the show of pain and misery by relegating responsibility to one character, the audience gets to go home feeling good.

If you want to stretch, the villain of the Grinning Man could be two people and not one. It doesn’t really matter, since it still comes back to individual fault, not even the individual fault of a person of high status, but one or two poor people. Musical!Ursus is an infinitely shittier person than his literary counterpart. In the book, Gwynplaine is still forced to perform spectacles that show off his appearance, but they’re a lot less personal and a lot less retraumatizing. In the musical, they randomly decided that not only would the role of the rich in the suffering of the poor be minimized, but also it would be poor people that hurt Grinpayne the most. Musical!Ursus idly allows a boy to be mutilated and then takes him in and forces him to perform a sanitized version of his own trauma while trying to convince him that he just needs to move on. In the book, he is much kinder. Their show, Chaos Vanquished, also allows him to show off as an acrobat and a singer, along with Déa, whose blindness isn’t exploited for the show at all. He performs because he needs to for them all to survive. He lives a complex life like real people do, of misery and joy. He’s not obsessed with “descanting on his own deformity” (dark shoutout to William Shakespeare for that little…infuriating line from Richard III), but rather thoughtfully aware of what it means. He deeply feels the reality of how he is seen and treated. Gwynplaine understands that he was hurt by the people who discarded him for looking different and for being poor, and he fucking goes off about it in the Parliament Confrontation scene (more to come on this). It is not a lesson he has to learn but a lesson he has to teach.

Grinpayne, on the other hand, spends his days in agony over his inability to recall who disfigured him, and his burning need to seek revenge. To me, this feels more than a little reminiscent of the trope of the Search for a Cure which is so pervasive in media portrayals of disability, in which disabled characters are able to think of nothing but how terribly wrong their lives went upon becoming disabled and plan out how they might rectify this. Grinpayne wants to avenge his mutilation. Gwynplaine wants to fix society. Sure, he decides to take the high road and not do this, and his learning is a valuable part of the musical’s story, but I think there’s something so awesome about how the book shows a disabled man who understands his life better than any abled mentor-philosophers who try to tell him how to feel. Nor is Gwynplaine fixed by Déa or vice versa, they merely find solace and strength in each other’s company and solidarity. The musical uses a lot of language about love making their bodies whole which feels off-base to me.

I must also note how deeply subversive the book was for making him actually happy: despite the pain he feels, he is able to enjoy his life in the company and solidarity he finds with Déa and takes pride in his ability to provide for her. The assumption that he should want to change his lot in life is not only directly addressed, but also stated outright as a failure of the audience: “You may think that had the offer been made to him to remove his deformity he would have grasped at it. Yet he would have refused it emphatically…Without his rictus… Déa would perhaps not have had bread every day”

He has a found family that he loves and that loves him. I thought having him come from a loving ~Noble~ family that meant more to him than Ursus did rather than having Ursus, a poor old man, be the most he had of a family in all his memory and having Déa end up being Ursus’ biological daughter really undercut the found family aspect of the book in a disappointing way.

Most important to me was the fundamental change that came from the removal of the Parliament Confrontation scene, on both the themes of the show and the character of Gwynplaine. When Gwyn’s heritage is revealed and his peerage is restored to him, he gets the opportunity to confront society’s problems in the House of Parliament. When Gwynplaine arrives in the House of Parliament, the Peers of England are voting on what inordinate sum to allow as income to the husband of the Queen. The Peers expect any patriotic member of their ranks to blithely agree to this vote: in essence, it is a courtesy. Having grown up in extreme poverty, Gwynplaine is outraged by the pettiness of this vote and votes no. The Peers, shocked by this transgression, allow him to take the stand and explain himself. In this scene, Gwynplaine brilliantly and profoundly confronts the evils of society. He shows the Peers their own shame, recounting how in his darkest times a “pauper nourished him” while a “king mutilated him.” Even though he says nothing remotely funny, he is received with howling laughter. This scene does a really good job framing disability as a problem of a corrupt, compassionless society rather than something wrong with the disabled individual (again, see the Social Model of disability, which is obviously flawed, but does a good job recognizing society that denies access, understanding and compassion—the kind not built on pity—as a central problem faced by disabled communities). It is the central moment of Hugo’s story thematically, which calls out the injustices in a system and forces the reader to reckon with it.

It is so radical and interesting and full that Gwynplaine is as brilliant and aware as he is. He sees himself as a part of a system of cruelty and seeks justice for it. He is an empathic, sharp-minded person who seeks to make things better not just for himself and his family, but for all who suffer as he did at the hands of Kings. Grinpayne’s rallying cry is “I will find and kill the man who crucified my face.” He later gets wise to the nature of life and abandons this, but in that he never actually gets to control his own relationship to his life. When I took a class about disability in the media one of the things that seemed to stand out to me most is that disabled people should be treated as the experts on their own experiences, which Gwynplaine is. Again, for a book written in 1869 that is radical. Grinpayne is soothed into understanding by the memory of his (rich) mother’s kindness.

I’ll give one more point of credit. I loved that there was a happy ending. But maybe that’s just me. The cast was stellar, and the puppetry was magnificent. I wanted to like the show so badly, but I just couldn’t get behind what it did to the story I loved.

#the grinning man #the man who laughs #tgm musical #l'homme qui rit #victor hugo #gwynplaine's parliament rambles #long post /

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dingdongitsbees · 4 years ago

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Hi, i was thinking of Attack on castes and i really like the idea of janitor levi, wannabe Hitch and so, would you write a one history teacher Erwin x lawyer reader, where she is friend to Frieda who is a teacher in the school asked her to pick Historia up for her and that's when Erwin sees her for the first time and immediately fell for her.... Hope you can accept it

offer up your heart

↪ WC: 3.3k ↪ Ao3 Link ↪ Genre: fluff, light-hearted, soft

Attack on Castes for those who haven’t read it! (it’s the reason some characters may seem oc)

Just send an ask to be added to the Erwin taglist!

Attack on Titan Masterlist | Main Masterlist

You were already late and by god did you not want to be there. You were glad to leave high school behind you when you graduated, promising yourself to never set foot in one ever again. Gossip, bullies, shitty teachers, stupid drama and a mind crushing amount of work. Sure, good things too, but nothing that couldn’t be found in the adult world.

In the adult world you got adventures. You got to fight to bring people the justice they deserved, their livelihood in your hands. They offered up their hearts begging you to save them. It gave you purpose. Whether or not they shed tears of grief or joy would be for you to decide. Nothing quite came close.

Or that’s how you would have felt if your current client wasn’t being such an annoying little shit. He had lied to your face with three wildly conflicting stories about what happened, and then when he got cross-examined by the prosecutor, he decided to go completely off script and implicate himself even further for something he didn’t even do.

The evidence against him were fables and rumours at best but he had begun to make it look plausible through his shifty character. You would get the “not guilty” verdict at the end of the trial, but you were going to have ripped out most of your hair by then.

When you were busy screaming in your hands during the intermission, your friend Frieda rang you and asked you to pick up her younger sister from school because their bastard of a father surely wasn’t going to. You nearly yelled at her then.

Frieda had done favour after favour for you in the past years with your insanely busy and gruelling schedule, so refusing the one time she asked for something in return would put you up with the likes of your client. You agreed, for some reason not asking what time, and then promptly forgot about it.

So there you were, heels clicking rapidly against the school’s hallway, the oranges hues of the sunset streaming through windows and the entrance. You really should have asked for Historia’s number, though you weren’t sure if the girl would bother to reply.

Historia was the epitome of “I think I will cause problems on purpose” simply because she’s bored. To be fair, you couldn’t really blame her, you had no such positive attitude towards school either, but with her being at the top of the pecking order she had the ability to make those problems quite substantial. Freida’s hair was probably going to go grey soon.

You thanked any god that would listen that she had cheerleading practice or you might have genuinely cried. The amount of stress that blonde girl was putting you through simply because she refused to take the bus home was nearly unparalleled.

You looked around the school, each corridor breaking off into another. The same basic lockers and same ceiling lights, same everything. You were fucking lost.

You jogged down some corridors hoping to find someone, turning your head frantically, letting you slam full force into something hard, tall and…blond?

Erwin may love being a teacher but my lord did it get tedious sometimes. He loved the younger ones, brimming with hopes, dreams and potential. Though nearly all of them seemed to be misusing it, putting it on the backburner or simply didn’t care. Kids were good but they certainly could be better. Of course, there’d be the standout kids like Armin and Marco who took their schooling seriously and asked questions that allowed him to gush about things that weren’t just on the set curriculum. But what he would give so all of them were that engaged…

He just wanted them to offer their hearts to him, to trust him and put faith in the information he was giving forward. History is something, that he believed at least, was unparalleled in its importance. You learn from the mistakes done by the generations before you, using the knowledge to guide the current decisions needed to be made. On top of that it just let you understand the world around you; how it came to be and your place within it. History was unparalleled in its importance.

That’s why he was still at the school, marking very obviously last-minute written essays, so he could give them back with thorough annotations and advice that he was sure most of them wouldn’t even glance at.

He had popped off to the teacher’s lounge to get a cup of tea, and was making his way back, eyes glued to the swaying liquid as not to spill it, when a smaller figure came barrelling into him. He instinctually moved the tea away, not wanting the scalding water to hit this unfortunate stranger full in the face. Some of the brown liquid dripped to the floor, Levi would surely have his head for it later, but it was better than any burns.

When he was sure the tea was steady, he looked to the stranger on the ground.

He swore he saw a deity.

Erwin peered down at you in pure awe. Albeit being a bit dishevelled and frazzled, you were clearly a force to be reckoned with. Your pant suit was tailored to fit you perfectly, your heels matching your simple jewellery and watch, your hair which was now a little ruffled, was obviously put together with precision in the morning. You were immaculately put together.

And your face, your face. Everything was right where it needed to be in the exact size and proportion to everything else. It was like you had been perfectly carved for over a millennium by only the best sculptors available.

Your aura was something else. Even if he had found you in pyjamas, the power you would exude would be to the same effect. Something in the way your face shifted as thoughts flew across your mind, the way every bit of movement seemed controlled and purposeful. Erwin had read hundreds, maybe thousands of myths all around the world, and none of the gods in them had never been as ethereal as you.

You were the definition of a muse.

You on the other hand were trying to keep down your groans about your ankles as much as possible. Heels were a mistake enough to attempt to run in let alone fall in, god could this day get any…better? Oh no. He was hot.

You swallowed harshly as he looked down at you, tilting his head and eyes wide. You noticed the tea spilt in a little puddle behind him and felt a little guilty, but he seemed to pay it no mind, his piercing blue eyes only on you.

After a silent moment he offered his empty hand. You took it with a hasty thank you under your breath and gripped on. His hand was so warm, so steady, so comfortable to hold. The moment was over quicker than either of you wanted it to be.

You looked to the ground, smoothing down the ruffles in your clothes, some that existed and some that certainly didn’t, so you could reset yourself. You were not going to be flustered by the first man you saw outside of work though to be fair he would be a good reason to let that rule lay down. He was certainly a fine specimen.

You looked back up, coughing to clear your throat. His gaze was already glued to you, it hadn’t been torn off since the moment you bumped into him. His eyes didn’t even shift now you were staring into his. His mouth was slightly agape, his cheeks dusted pink, his eyebrows raised. You were getting nervous but wanted to know what was going on in that head of his.

“Uh, hi…” you started, leaning your head to the side, “Didn’t mean to bump into you there, sorry for spilling your tea.”

He blinked.

“You’re…” he trailed off, having caught himself before he said something stupid. He coughed into his fist, finally looking away, the student poster about splitting atoms on the classroom becoming suddenly riveting. “Sorry, could I help you in anyway?”

You scratched the back of your head with a small smile and Erwin short circuited. “Yeah actually, I’m meant to be picking up a friend’s sister, but I got lost.”

“What’s the student’s name? I may be able to direct you?”

“Historia Reiss.”

“Ah.”

“Ah indeed.”

It was no question that the girl would be infamous to teachers as well, the girl tended to make quite an impression. Hopefully she wouldn’t be rolling her eyes at you more than necessary when you finally found her.

“Miss Reiss is likely at the gym.” He pointed down a corridor, the one you had come from.

You opened your mouth and closed it again, you would probably get lost again but you couldn’t convince yourself that’s why you asked the next question. “Sorry, do you think you walk me there?”

A colourful array of curses flew through your mind as he stilled, a deer in the headlights. You were about to apologise for being a bother and go on your way when his face brightened to an almost blinding degree and his eyes crinkled with his accompanying smile.

“It would be my pleasure.”

The walk started in silence for a few moments as you both scrambled for something to talk about.

“So um,” you said, “What do you teach here? You are a teacher, right? Not just some random guy taking advantage of the tea?”

He was already panicking being in the vicinity of you, so he almost didn’t pick up your teasing tone. The fact you were making fun of him just made his heart hammer even harder.

“I can confirm I’m not some stranger, to this school at least.” His added smile made your heart skip a beat; you should sue him. “I teach history here, but I won’t burden you with the specifics.”

“Do.”

“Pardon?”

“Burden me with the specifics. The teaching path wasn’t for me, but I admire those who followed it,” you sent a smile of your own back, “Plus, you seem like the kind of guy to know your stuff. You look like a passionate teacher. I wish there were more of those when I went to school.”

He took a second to compose himself, you being very cruel to him right now. He’d known you for approximately two minutes, but you were making it increasingly difficult for him to not declare his inevitable love right then and there.

“Oh well um,” he stumbled over his words, trying to string a few sentences together that would be worthy of your time. His hands were already extended, ready to add a visual focus. “War is quite an obvious favourite to go to, but I’ve always been more interested in the things that went on behind the scenes, the life of soldiers and nurses who lost their lives, the lives of those who stayed behind, anyone trying to look for peaceful solutions. Those have always interested me more. And then going far past the world and civil wars of the past three centuries, going back to when England and France were nowhere near the superpowers they became, and of course focusing all around the world. Europe has honestly been pretty lacklustre with their stories compared to everywhere else.”

He looked back to you, half-expecting you to be twiddling your thumbs, but your sight hadn’t moved. Your eyes were wide and bright like the ones he had seen in Armin and Marco except with an added adult understanding and perspective. This was quite unfair on his heart.

He turned his head down a corridor, taking the opportunity to calm down his heated cheeks. Really quite unfair.

“So what do you do?” He tried his best to make the words come out as smooth as he hoped. You didn’t seem to take notice that they didn’t.

“I’m a lawyer, so definitely a different world from yours.” Your laugh was awe-inspiring, he wished it were his morning alarm. There was no way he could come to hate it.

“It suits you,” he noted. It made perfect sense, everything about you commanded attention, thinking about you controlling a court room was easy to picture.

You sputtered out a few sounds, not sure if they were sophisticated enough to be called words and looked down a corridor as you passed, trying to figure out what the angry looking janitor was thinking about instead of what your brain was. This man was having quite the effect on you, and it wasn’t even his looks! Rude!

“Thank you, assuming that’s a compliment.”

Erwin simply nodded, not wanting to let you be privy to his thought processes right then. He would never recover.

“What area do you work in if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Currently represent for murder and manslaughter cases, anything that usually ended up with a person dead or nearly dead.”

A different world from yours indeed.

“I imagine that’s quite intense.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “The paperwork numbs a lot of it, honestly most of my clients aren’t any different from students.”

“I’d hope not.”

“You’d be surprised. Some of those annoying kids in school tend to keep being annoying, annoying enough to land themselves as a suspect for a murder case.”

Now he couldn’t stop thinking about you intimidating a client into submission and to just listen to you and let you take the reins. He would like to see that. He may possibly want to be subjected to it if he was in the right mood. He towered over you, but he would fall to his knees in a second if you told him to as a joke. He hoped that was a wild exaggeration done by his brain, but he knew most things come from a semblance of truth.

You really were something else.

You couldn’t believe you were talking to someone like him. He seemed so self-assured and at one with the flow of life, not needing to seek more to find contentment. He clearly loved his job as much as you loved yours, both acknowledging the downsides but knew it was worth it in the end.

He seemed to be taking up more and more of your brain as he continued to talk, only adding to the list of positives, there hadn’t seemed to be any negatives yet. You were concerned that there didn’t seem to be any. From his looks to his personality to the way he held himself, it was honesty too good to be true. Right?

When he looked at you, your cheeks would burn, and you’d feel like you were in high school all over again. That was one of the things you had forgotten, although small, they had been of the good parts about school. Crushes had always been a little fun.

But the way his lips pulled into an easy smile should be illegal. You could deal with murderers, not this. If he was ever on the stand in court, you would be a stuttering mess when trying to cross-examine him.

As you two kept talking, you’d take turns left and right, seemingly with no real reason. You were pretty sure you had seen those maths posters before, but you didn’t mention it. You were plenty happy to let this be dragged out a little longer. You were flattered to say the least.

Erwin knew that he couldn’t “trick” you without you noticing eventually, he couldn’t do that to save his life, but he also knew that if you had caught on to his little game, you would mention it if you wanted him to stop. That fact made his chest flutter, though perhaps it probably was time to take you where you needed to go so you didn’t have your friend yelling at you. He wasn’t that cruel.

The sound of cheers reached your eyes, your shoulders deflated. Guess this is it then. The gym doors came into sight and you could spot the cheerleaders practicing their formations through the open door. They all looked exhausted, so it was probably near the end by now.

Against the wall you could see Historia’s “friends” watching and applauding whenever Historia so as much breathed. No wonder she got bored.

Your feet came to a stop, just outside the entrance and you looked up to him. He shifted slightly, unsure of what to say.

“Thank you um…” you said before your eyes few open, “Holy- I can’t believe I didn’t get your name?”

He chuckled, deep and clear. “Erwin, Erwin Smith.”

You gave your name to his and his lips mouthed around it silently, feeling the shape of all the letters. It made you a little flustered how earnestly he was printing it into his brain.

Neither of you moved, you didn’t want to go into the gym, and he didn’t want to leave. To put it simply, you were smitten with each other and it was embarrassingly obvious to everyone including the both of you.

The cheerleaders stopped, grabbing their bags and chugging down litre water bottles. Historia would snitch on you in an instant if she saw you hitting on her teacher, so it was time to depart.

“I guess this is it then…” You dragged out the sentence, still trying to stall.

“I suppose it is.”

“Thank you, I do mean it. I guess I’ll see you when I see you.”

He nodded, swallowing. “I guess I will. Have a pleasant evening, both you and Miss Reiss.”

You cracked a grin. “I can’t promise she will have one, but I know you definitely made my evening a good one. See you, Erwin.”

He smiled softly. “See you.”

He waved as he walked back through the corridors, he snuck a look over his shoulder when he had almost disappeared from view to find you still looking at him. Both of your faces burst into flames and you looked away from each other.

You took Historia home after she (mainly her friends) questioned why you were there instead of Frieda. Reiner, you believed his name was, offering to take her home as suavely as he could to be shot down so quickly by Historia you got whiplash. Her friends bid her dramatic goodbyes which she didn’t reply to, and you two made your way to the car.

“Were you talking to Mr Smith?” She didn’t even bother taking her eyes off of her phone to ask.

“I…I was. I got lots trying to find you so he helped me get to the gym.”

Her eyes narrowed suspiciously. “He didn’t need to take you all the way there though.”

“He was…he was just being nice.”

She hummed, no emotion behind to hide whether or not it was full of doubt. You really didn’t want her to tell Frieda or you’d never live it down.

“I finally get your ass out of the court room and you flirt with the first guy you see? Bold as ever.”

Though maybe, just maybe, it meant you could offer to pick up Historia more often. Maybe.

Everyone knew it wasn’t a maybe.

Erwin made his way back to his desk and he plopped himself down on his chair with a sigh. He leant his head back to look at the ceiling, projecting the past minutes on the white ceiling.

He didn’t even ask for your number.

He cursed at himself and dragged a hand over his face before getting back to his mountain of paperwork. Perhaps it was too bold to offer up his heart this quickly.

But you had said “see you”, and maybe it was too much for him to assume, but usually that meant a second meeting was anticipated. Maybe.

Everyone knew it wasn’t a maybe.

His tea had gone cold, but that was alright. He had met a goddess that evening after all.

a/n: to the person who sent this in sorry it took so long! this was my first time writing for Erwin so i hope it’s alright! thank you for reading :)

Just send an ask to be added to the Erwin taglist!

Attack on Titan Masterlist | Main Masterlist

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#erwin #erwin smith #erwin aot #erwin x reader #erwin smith x reader #erwin x you #erwin smith x you #erwin x y/n #erwin smith x y/n #erwin snk #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot #snk #attack on castes #historia #historia reiss

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butterflymar · 4 years ago

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DAY 2: FAVORITE BL DRAMA

I have quite a few... I can’t choose just one so bare with me lol

Life Senjou No Bokura

Synopsis According to MyDramaList: One day after school, the serious Ito and the child-like Nishi meet by chance, as each endeavors to remain walking on the sidewalk`s white line. As time goes by, Ito recognizes he is drawn to Nishi in a way that is new to him. Nishi, for his part, is frustrated that they only get to meet on the sidewalk. Ito decides to act upon his feelings and kisses a surprised Nishi, who agrees they need to walk side by side for a change. The sparks between them are undeniable as their relationship blossoms in high school, survives the college years, and matures into adulthood. A deeply moving work that bears witness to loving partners, whose unchanging feelings must co-exist within a world of changing realities.

My Personal Thoughts: I already wrote a review for this so I am going to re-share some of those thoughts here. This is one that I have watched countless times already. They went by the manga for mostly all of the episodes and I appreciated seeing that. They gave more context for certain details that may have been lost while reading the manga and translated it to screen. I think they depicted the age gaps well too. For 4 episodes only, I feel that they did a great job including the most important aspects. Actually now that I think of it, I would have loved to see more of them in their early 20s depicted on screen because that was like one of there honeymoon phases and I’m a hopeless romantic lol but that’s just a personal preference not complaining. Also, the show stopped at age 40 and they could have gone on throughout there entire lives but I understand why they chose not too. The manga is great as well!!! I think that the main actors depicted beautiful true love very well. They had amazing chemistry. Japanese BL’s have that special spark about them that I love. I also loved that it showed there relationship from high school till there later years. I don’t see that a lot with BL’s. They usually just stick to one time period. The aspect about them being connected by a line in relation to there love was a nice touch as well. I am glad that it has a happy ending as well. This is a pretty quick one to watch and a great one at that!!! If you haven’t watched it yet, I would highly recommend it!!!

I Told Sunset About You

Synopsis According to MyDramaList: Teh and Oh-aew were best friends until a boyhood line of reasoning turned them into rivals. Years later as they're preparing for university admissions, both pursuing interests in the field of Communication Arts, the two meet in a Chinese language class. Their reunion awakens complicated and unstable feelings.

My Personal Thoughts: Same as above, I already wrote a review for this so I am going to re-share some of those thoughts here. This is DEFINITELY one of my top BL shows of the year 2020. This is such a beautiful masterpiece of a show!!! I remember when the preview trailer first came out… I was already hooked!!! I was on the lookout for it and it did not disappoint me one bit when it finally started. I looked forward to seeing it every week. It made me feel all of the emotions. I was up here sitting in my room crying over everything. I don’t think any other BL has made me this emotional before in my life. The two lead actors really DELIVERED!!! I could feel every single stare, every single body movement, and every single touch. You could cut the TENSION with a knife!!! No one couldn’t tell me that there wasn’t a magnetic true love between these two. I know this sounds cliche but it's like they were destined to be together from when they were childhood friends. Also, I would love to see them in future projects!!! The cinematography in this show is TOP FREAKIN NOTCH!!! Every single scene is just so beautifully shot. The cinematography alone makes me want to cry lol I saw somewhere that someone said the filming of the show reminded them of an indie film and I totally agree!!! The writing and directing on this show was impeccable to me!!! No cringy dialogue and every single line served its purpose well. This is movie grade writing. I also wanted to quickly just say that I loved the attention and callback to details throughout like with the tutoring book that Teh made for Oh-aew that was left empty by the end of episode 4, the flower that was supposed to be colored the same as Tan’s garment but Teh colored it red because he was thinking of Oh-aew, the rubbing of Oh-aew’s back when he sniffles, the references to Teh’s favorite actor, and the use of Chinese phrases to get meaning across. I could go on and on but wow I just loved how they really connected all of the details throughout. I can’t wait for Season 2!!!

Theory of Love

Synopsis According to MyDramaList: Third is a filmology major and a member of the Savage Team along with his best friends Two, Bone, and Khai, but he has a secret. Third has been secretly in love with Khai for years. For three years, he has kept his secret love in his heart, silently supporting and loving Khai while knowing there is absolutely no future between them since Khai is as straight as a streetlight pole and also an absolute player. To make matters worse, Khai has a "no dating friends" policy. How long can Third love Khai silently while watching Khai bring a different girl home every night? Third has tried to see Khai as just a friend. But has failed time and time again. Because as easy as it is to fall in love, to stop is just as hard. Maybe even harder. That is until Third learns a secret that breaks his heart completely. But when Third decides to stop, Khai decides to start.

My Personal Thoughts: As sad as this show can make me feel at times, I love rewatching it. I still to this day think that it is one of the most well written BL’s that I have seen. Everything flows nicely and everything connects. Your not left wondering how you got from point A to point B. I thought the show had great character development especially when it came to Khai’s character towards the end of series. I know a lot of people had mixed feelings about his character due to how careless and dare I say stupid he acted at times but if he can make the audience hate him that much as a character... I would say he is doing something right!!! Gun’s acting never fails to amaze me!!! He really is one of the best actors I have seen. I know he had to be drained from all of that crying that he did throughout the show though lol It just goes to show that when you truly love someone you can’t just stop what you are feeling inside that easily no matter how the other person feels about you or treats you. As the old saying goes, love is blind. I also loved the friend group as well and Two and Bones side stories with the teacher and crush from school. They added to the shows greatness and didn’t take away from it. The friendship dynamics throughout the show was I feel something that really kept me engaged. The cast acted well together. There was no awkwardness or hesitation. I feel everyone bought there best for this drama. They incorporated the movie references so cleverly and I love how the title of each episode was the title of a real romance film. Just the overall theme of film was very intriguing to me. This drama left me filled with heartache and a rollercoaster of emotions but the ending is worth it!!!

HIStory3: Make Our Days Count

Synopsis According to MyDramaList: At first glance, high schoolers Xiang Hao Ting and Yu Xi Gu appear to be polar opposites: While Xiang Hao Ting is an outgoing, hot-headed extravert and some-time bully, Yu Xi Gu prefers to keep a low profile and focus on his schoolwork. They seem bound for totally different futures – the bookish Yu Xi Gu looks destined for academic success, while life is just a long popularity contest for Xiang Hao Ting. But a quirk of fate – and a crucial intervention by a female schoolmate – results in the two young men’s paths crossing. But there is more to both young men than first meets the eye. Xiang Hao Ting was not always this way. He started out as a perfect student until he discovered the joys of going off the rails. And Yu Xi Gu has a reason for being so aloof and studious: His parents died in a traffic accident while he was younger, and he is being fostered by his aunt. As such, he works hard to get good grades in an effort to win a scholarship and ease the financial burden on his relatives. Yu Xi Gu also works part-time at a convenience store, where his manager Liu Zhi Gang has developed a crush on a man he has met at the gym. Back at school, meanwhile, Yu Xi Gu and Xiang Hao Ting find themselves drawn together, and passions ignite. The former notices that he has the unique ability to bring Yu Xi Gu out of his shell – and becomes intent on melting his cold-as-ice exterior. What will happen when their two worlds collide? And can love be the catalyst that helps bring these two unlikely students together – as their high school days draw to a close?

My Personal Thoughts: I will stand by this notion for all of my days but this show is one of the best shows I have seen PERIOD!!! Not even best BL shows I have seen but just in general. It highkey saddens me that it is rated at an 8.1 right now on MyDramaList due to how it ended when other than that... it’s a top notch show. This was one that I watched as it was airing and I would get excited to see it every week. My clown self should have known by the title “Make Our Days Count” that some mess was about to occur but I didn’t pick up on it. Now, I just disregard the last episode (WE DON’T KNOW HER!!!). You can just tell that they had a great budget for this series. The production was on point. It had great cinematography, great storylines, and it felt realistic too. The main couples acting was OFF THE CHARTS AMAZING. I loved the whole opposites attract thing going on. Although the show was set in high school... it almost didn’t feel like it nor did it have those typical clichés going on. I liked how it dealt with topic of LGBTQ+ acceptance as well. I wasn’t so sure about the side couples relationship at first but I grew to love them as time went on. One last thing I wanted to point out was that even though I am always looking for a happy ending... I learned from this show that not everyone can get a happy ending. That’s not how life works sadly. In real life, there have been a lot of people who were truly in love and lost there partners tragically. Although it may be hard to accept the outcome, it is something that happens in real life. This is a drama that you appreciate even more as time goes on. It truly is a gem of a series!!!

TharnType

Synopsis According to MyDramaList: Type Thiwat is a handsome freshman with a passion for football and spicy food. Although he’s a friendly boy, he hates gay people because, in his childhood, he was molested by a man. His life turns upside down when the new academic year of college brings along a charismatic roommate, Tharn Kirigun. Tharn is a gorgeous, compassionate music major, who is also openly gay. When Type learns this, he is determined to make Tharn leave the dorm, as he won't live with a gay person. Tharn is equally determined not to give into Type's homophobic tantrums. With a gay guy and a homophobic guy that have to share a small space together for the rest of the year — what can possibly be the outcome of their story? Hatred? Or maybe love?

My Personal Thoughts: *Goes to hide in a corner* I know this drama is problematic and controversial as hell but it’s like a train wreck that you can’t turn away from. What truly carries the show I feel is the chemistry between MewGulf. I don’t think I would have enjoyed the series as much if other actors were cast in those roles. They just exude confidence, passion, love, and lust. In terms of the storyline, I found it to be a chaotic occurrence of situations where I just had to know what was going to go on next. Everything that occurred had me intrigued for the next episode and so on and so forth. I loved Type’s character development. One quick thing I want to touch on was I know there were a lot of problematic things that happened which I will touch on at a later date but one thing I wish people were more understanding of was Type’s outbursts, thoughts, and feelings in certain situations. He was a victim of sexual assault so I felt the way he handled certain things was in response to what he had gone through as child and I think some viewers kind of missed that and were almost too harsh on him. Everyone processes and deals with trauma differently. This show went through so many twists and turns and I honestly lived for it especially the shocker towards the end of the series. I didn’t see that one coming at all!!! Despite all of its flaws, this show still holds a special place in my heart.

Honorable Mention:

Cherry Magic: As of today, this show has 4 episodes left and I think I am just going to come out and say that THIS IS MY FAVORITE BL OF THE YEAR!!! It’s a beautiful Japanese BL and I rewatch the old episodes while I wait for new ones to come out alot. It’s such a fluffy, heartwarming, and precious Bl series!!! I love it to pieces!!!

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cavalierious-whim · 4 years ago

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Two’s a Crowd (FE3H)

Felannie | Canon-Compliant | War Phase | Teen | Complete There’s only one horse. Felix will take on one hundred crest beasts alone if it means avoiding this.

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A/N: This was a Secret Santa give and I was asked to write ‘There was only one Horse’. Read here on AO3 for better quality! Also, I’m on Twitter!

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While Felix has never been one to follow the rules, he now understands why Byleth is so reluctant to let them roam outside the gates of Garreg Mach freely.

Sure, they’re adults and they can make their own dumb decisions. Still, it’s wartime; there are crest beasts and ample opportunity to be stupid enough to get yourself into a pickle.

Felix frowns. Annette’s colorful words, not his.

Byleth often turns a blind eye to the odd training session outside the Monastery, especially when it comes to Felix. Byleth knows that Felix can handle himself when it comes down to it, and while the Professor’s expression is prone to permanent frowning, he’s never said no. Not outright.

It’s more like carefully placed and unasked advice that he knows Felix won’t ever listen to but can claim to have given all the same.

“Just in case you find yourself gored,” said Byleth one dreary afternoon. “I’ll have the chance to say ‘I told you so’.”

So far, Byleth has been denied the pleasure because Felix is a slippery bastard; far too stubborn to die. And, as it turns out, he’s not the only stubborn person in the world, which brings him to his current problem:

Annette crashes through the underbrush alongside him, sagging with weariness and covered head to toe in mud and Goddess knows what else. It’s exactly Felix’s luck that she’s the one to sneak out after him because her curious little nose got the best of her.

At least it’s a cute nose.

“It just had to be a crest beast,” says Annette, mouth twisted into an ugly sneer. That’s cute on her too.

“It had to be two,” amends Felix. He’s never had any luck with anything, least of all women, so he doesn’t know why he insists on longing for Annette. Then, he suddenly remembers something else, smacking his hand against his forehead. “Ingrid is going to kill us.”

A long moment stretches between the two of them as they stand there in the woods looking at each other.

“We’ve lost horses before,” says Annette. Sure, they’ve lost horses, but never a Fraldairan Marsh Tucky. And its accompanying mare because, naturally, that was the horse Annette picked. Ingrid’s captious about her thoroughbreds and she’d brought those from Galatea personally. Felix pauses in his step, leveling Annette with a tired stare, to which she sighs in response. “Okay, yeah, she’s going to kill us.”

Annette is lucky that Felix likes her. More than likes her. Kind-of maybe loves her, not that he’s the confessing kind. But, all her goofy songs and eternal optimism in the world won’t save him from Ingrid’s wrath, Mercedes’s clipped threats for endangering Annie, or Byleth’s contempt for attracting her attention by merely existing.

Byleth’s a bit of a stick in the mud when it comes to intra-army romance.

Annette’s mouth then tips into a tiny little smile and Felix wonders if it’s a bad thing that he likes the idea she’d followed him. She’d said that it was dumb of him to go it alone and that she’d been worried. The only person that worries about him nowadays is Sylvain, and it’s entirely unwarranted, unwanted, and suffocating in every way possible. The change is, admittedly, nice.

“There’s a village this direction,” says Felix, pointing to the west. “They’ve got a decent inn with tolerable food, and a stable with likely a few horses for sale.”

“Do we have the coin?” asks Annette.

“We’ll manage,” says Felix, thankful that he’d brought his purse with him that day. He doesn’t always, so maybe he’s luckier than he’d thought. His gaze slides back to Annette who watches him with interest, her eyebrows drawn up. “What?” he snaps, testily.

“Nothing,” says Annette, but judging by the sly little smirk on her face, it’s anything but. Felix doesn’t have the time to think about it anything further.

“We’re losing daylight,” says Felix. “We should get walking, otherwise Byleth will close the gates for the night.”

“He’d let us in,” says Annette.

“He won’t,” says Felix. He’d know, he’s camped outside the entrance before, punishment for making it back late. There’s a pause and then Annette laughs, causing Felix to scowl. Even if he likes the sound of it.

“He’d let me in, then,” says Annette.

Felix grumbles at that. “He probably would.” Annette smirks at him again and Felix rolls his eyes, but he’s only mildly irritated. Truly, Annette is lucky that she doesn’t incite his ire much. Felix wonders how this entire thing would go if it was literally anyone else stuck out here with him.

They’d probably have a sword through their neck already, or at least, be slightly maimed. Felix is in a maiming sort of mood. He and Annette head westward, slogging through the slick mud leftover from earlier rain.

“Hopefully, there won’t be any more beasts out here,” says Annette, and Felix whirls on her, pressing a finger against her lips. She blinks, surprised. But she doesn’t move away, if anything, she leans into the touch.

“Don’t!” hisses Felix.

“Don’t what?” she says against his finger, her breath warm against his skin.

“Say something like that. Don’t you know that’s exactly how it works?”

“What works?” asks Annette.

Felix groans, almost certain that she’s being obtuse on purpose because Annette’s the teasing sort. “It’s bad luck,” he says. “The moment you say something like that, it--”

There’s a deafening roar behind them that echoes through the trees. And then the woods fall deathly quiet. Annette swallows thickly, but to her credit, doesn’t pale or look scared. She’s a plucky little thing and that’s in part what Felix loves about her most. Annette isn’t one to back down, she seeks danger out. Case in point, trailing after him on her own.

Felix pulls his hand away from her.

“We’ve no choice,” says Annette. It’s not a question.

Felix draws his sword and readies a bolt of Thoron. “Might as well make it quick,” is all he says in return.

Annette answers with a resigned sigh.

Turns out, their luck is worse than anticipated, not that Felix is surprised. This entire trip has been working against him since before he left the Monastery.

“I have a bad feeling,” Byleth told him as he saddled up.

“Nonsense,” Felix said, annoyed at the Professor’s incessant mothering.

Felix is eating that word now, laying on his belly in the underbrush, slick with muck and worms. Annette shifts beside him, leaning closer.

“How long do we wait?” she asks.

“Until the damn beast is gone, obviously,” says Felix.

Annette’s eyes narrow at his tone. “This isn’t my fault.”

“You said the words,” says Felix. “You should never say the words.”

She huffs at that. “You’re the one that forgot a spare blade. Since when do you strap only one sword to your hip?” Then she pauses. “Also, what are the chances that it would just crack right down the middle--”

“The entire point of laying in this filth is to be quiet, Annette, and let the beast leave.”

Annette’s mouth snaps shut, but it’s not without an annoyed scowl shot in his direction. “You’re evil,” murmurs Annette, just loud enough for him to hear. Felix knows it’s absolutely on purpose. She’s got a mean streak in her at times, he’s just never been on the end of it.

The mud and foliage hide their smell, and eventually, the crest beast determines them to be a lost cause and saunters away. Felix reaches out to grab Annette’s wrist before she can get up. “Wait, just a little bit longer. It might come back.”

They lay there for longer than she wants, Felix can tell by her squirming, but Byleth’s words have been prophetic: it’s just one of those days. Finally, they rise. Annette looks down at her dress and cringes at the sight.

“I’ll have to burn this and get Mercie to make me a new one.”

“Mercedes has more important things to do than sew garments,” says Felix with an annoyed huff.

Annette narrows her eyes at him. “I’ll remind you that this is your fault.”

“I didn’t ask for you to sneak out after me.”

“You brought that upon yourself when you decided to go out on your own.”

Felix glowers. “Which I do, often.”

Annette shoots him a rival glare. “Because you have no sense of self-preservation. Honestly, Felix, I should have come with you sooner. How often are you so ill-prepared? How unlike you.”

Felix can’t deny that one; how unlike him indeed. “I’ve been distracted lately,” he finally says, and Annette’s face softens slightly. She thinks that he’s talking about the war, but that isn’t it actually, it’s more so the tight feeling in his chest that he gets when he looks at her. He’s taken to marking up trees in frustration, away from prying eyes in the training ground.

The dramatic irony of her blaming Felix isn’t lost on him.

“It’s going to get dark,” says Annette. Felix frowns. How astute and glaringly obvious. “And, according to you, Byleth will abandon you outside the gates.”

“Wouldn’t be a first,” gripes Felix.

“So,” starts Annette, rolling back on her heels slightly. Her hands are tucked neatly behind her, all manners despite looking like she crawled out of a sewer. “To the village then. We’ll get a room.”

Felix, who’d already turned around to head west, stops dead in his tracks. Then he closes his eyes. Then he pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. Two rooms, he thinks. He can afford two rooms, he’s got enough gold for at least that.

When he looks back to Annette, she’s already beaming at him like she always does. Felix wants to roll his eyes, but he can’t. Instead, he wants to do something a little more drastic, like pull her in for a hug.

Which is ridiculous, because Felix doesn’t hug people.

“Felix?” asks Annette. “You’re staring.”

It takes everything in him not to wince. “Mud,” he says, dumbly. “And sticks. In your hair.”

Eloquent, Felix is not. Despite this, Annette takes the explanation in stride and their walk to the village isn’t so terrible considering.

“Say that again, but the answer better be different.”

The innkeeper swallows, his thick neck turning a little bit red. Felix threatens people often enough that he’s got it down to a science. Arms crossed over the chest, his foot tapping in annoyance. The worst scowl he can manage followed by a flash of steel.

He’s having to make do without that last one.

“We’ve only one room left,” says the Innkeeper.

It takes everything for Felix not to jump the desk and choke the man out.

“Felix,” says Annette, resting her hand against his arm. He doesn’t pull away and neither does she, her fingers curling into his quilted sleeve. “It isn’t his fault. The men out in the bar must be the reinforcements we’re waiting on.”

Felix massages his temple. Right, reinforcements; Byleth had told them all they were expecting another Magic Corps to show up. Just their luck. Or lack thereof. He looks to Annette, who looks back at him, large eyes framed attractively by delicate eyelashes.

Goddess above, he can’t do this.

“You’ll take the room,” says Felix, finally tugging his arm away from her grasp. “I’ll stay in the stable.”

“Absolutely not,” says Annette.

“There’s no room there, either,” says the innkeeper unwisely. Upon Felix’s dangerous glare, the man immediately adds: “I’ve got two stable boys who bunk there.” They would find the one inn that employs by way of food and shelter, and not coin.

The innkeeper takes a deep breath and then bravely says, “There are two beds. If that makes a difference.”

It does, but only barely. Felix eyes the man warily, but slaps down a handful of gold.

That’s when Annette does the unthinkable and says, “And a bath, please. And fresh clothes.”

Felix is going to sleep in a stall with a horse if that’s what it takes, because he cannot, cannot share a room with Annette if she’s intent on bathing. Annette doesn’t think about these kinds of things. She’s not a healer like Mercedes, but she does her share in the medical tents. She sees a body like she sees everything else; just as it is and nothing more.

When he finally meets her gaze, she’s looking at him expectantly. Her eyes flash to his coin purse and then back to the pile he’s left on the counter. Felix lets out a long-suffering sigh and slaps down a few more coins.

“For the bath. And the clothes,” he says tersely. All Annette does is smile widely, happiness practically beaming off of her and she looks utterly ridiculous, covered in the mess that she is.

The room isn’t large, but there are two beds as promised. The stableboys haul a bath inside and Annette has the forethought to direct them to place it behind the changing screen. Felix lets loose a breath. Small blessings and some actual luck, finally.

Annette sings as she bathes. Felix washes his face in the basin by the door and changes into the clothes they’ve been provided, before settling into one of the beds. The moment he hits the mattress, he realizes how weary he is. It’s been a long day of dodging crest beasts and avoiding pesky feelings.

“Felix,” calls Annette from behind the screen, “has Byleth actually left you outside the gate after coming back late.”

Felix snorts a laugh. “Once. The lesson was learned.”

Annette chuckles and then goes back to her made-up tune. “Oh, how I love to bathe. Wash away the icky bits, ‘cause being dirty is just the pits.”

It isn’t so much that her voice is good, it’s just nice. Calming. Sweet. Felix closes his eyes and listens, drifting off to the soft tune on her lips. Comforting when you think about it because Annette sings about the things that she loves.

He falls asleep before her song shifts, singing about a dark, handsome swordsman instead.

There’s only one horse.

It’s a curse, straight from one of those ridiculous romance novels that Sylvain pretends he doesn’t like to read. Felix will take on one hundred crest beasts alone if it means avoiding this.

Annette has the gall to look amused. “It’ll be fine, Felix,” is what she says.

It will be the exact opposite of fine because while Felix has been very good at keeping her an arm’s length away, that isn’t an option here.

Felix glares at the stablemaster who regards him with an apologetic look. The only reason Felix doesn’t gut him right then and there is because it isn’t his fault. The man isn’t responsible for the delay in new livestock, the rain had done that. Regrettably, because Felix very much wants to stab something. Anything.

His head falls back, cheeks to the sky, eyes slipping closed as he lets out a long, drawn-out groan. This is divine punishment, Felix thinks, because he’s too much of a coward to just tell the damn girl that he likes her.

Or loves her. But really, at this point, what difference does it matter?

Annette pulls herself up first, settling into the saddle with ease. Felix turns to drop gold into the stablemaster’s hand, who offers a small smile in return.

“If it’s any consolation--”

“It’s not,” Felix cuts in.

“-- I think that she likes you back.”

At that moment, Felix wishes that murder for entirely inane reasons is legal. But alas, it isn’t, and Byleth would be quite irate if Felix were to remove the head of this man. The Professor loathes cleaning up messes and Felix makes a lot of them. So, the stablemaster keeps his life.

Only because Felix is too lazy to think of a valid excuse, or cook up a proper plan.

He pulls himself up behind Annette and settles in easier than he thought possible. Annette’s tiny enough that it’s not as awkward as it could be. Felix slips his arms around her waist and she hands him the reins, and then they’re off at a small trot.

The horse is calm and moves along the road well. Annette leans back against Felix’s chest, humming a tune. Felix is relatively relaxed. The Goddess hasn’t set the world on fire just yet. Small blessings.

“This is nice,” says Annette.

Not how Felix would phrase it. He’s caught somewhere between ‘this is divine’ and ‘this is absolute hell’. He allows himself the former though, arms settling around her closer than he’d normally allow. His nose close enough to the crown of her head that he can smell the fresh soap she’d bathed with. He enjoys the way she fits against him.

Felix would say that Sylvain’s a saint for putting up with this on the regular, but it’d be a lie. Worse, Felix gets why it’s a lie because Annette in his arms feels nice, even if it’s on the back of a horse, and only because there isn’t another choice.

“Nice,” agrees Felix halfheartedly, when he remembers to reply.

“You know, one could even say romantic.”

“There’s nothing romantic about being forced to share a horse because the Magic Corps didn’t think to bring their own.”

Annette turns her head slightly to look back at him, lips quirked into an amused smile. “Not one bit?” she asks.

Felix looks down at her, frowning slightly. What on earth does that mean? And why is she so amused? “I said that it was nice.”

“Felix, you look like you ate some of Flayn’s cooking.”

“This is definitely preferable to that,” says Felix, meaning it.

Annette sits there, twisted awkwardly in front of him for a moment longer, watching him. Felix squirms slightly, uncomfortable with the scrutiny. Finally, she says, “I must admit, I’m at a loss.”

“For what?” asks Felix.

“Nothing,” says Annette. Felix frowns again because now she just isn't making sense. But then again, Annette often doesn’t make sense, it’s part of her charm.

The Monastery isn’t far from the village, barely an hour by horse. The rest of their ride passes without any issue. No crest beasts, no bandits, and miraculously, Felix doesn’t entirely combust after enduring close contact with Annette.

He’s decided to treasure the moment because it’s never happening again.

It’s no surprise that Byleth is waiting for them at the gate, their arrival having been spotted by a lookout and announced. The Professor looks calmly collected and not at all worried. Felix’s eyes narrow, instantly suspicious.

Felix drops from the horse first before reaching up and helping Annette down. She lands gracefully, her hands grasping Felix’s forearms. She doesn’t let go. Felix tries to pull away, but she holds tight, and damn, she has an impressively strong grip. She just looks at him, a soft little smile on her face.

“Annette,” says Felix, unsure how to continue.

“Felix,” replies Annette. “Thank you for taking care of me. You’re such a gentleman.”

Felix is anything but, and he’s about to tell her that when she finally let's go. Only to reach up and grab him by the face, fingers curling around his jaw. She yanks him down, none too gently.

And then, Annette’s kissing him, pressing her lips against his with careful precision. Felix is surprised but he doesn’t go entirely rigid. His hands slide up to grasp her cheeks and he kisses her back. It’s not sweet in its touch, but it’s not scorching either, somewhere middling of the two. Her hand snakes around the back of his neck to grip him possessively, pulling him closer.

Felix responds eagerly, his fingers slipping into her hair, tugging her face into a different angle to slot their mouths against each other better. Then, he parts his lips, intent on licking into her mouth--

There’s a cough from next to them and they break apart. Felix doesn’t look away from Annette whose cheeks are tinged pink. Annette looks to the side. “Byleth,” she greets coolly.

“Um,” starts Felix, but can’t think of words past that.

“I’m pleased to see that the two of you are okay,” Byleth deadpans.

Annette is looking at Felix again, and his gaze is still glued to hers, unsure what’s just happened, still trying to process the kiss. That she’d started. That she’d enthusiastically responded too. That she seemed annoyed to have been interrupted in the midst of. The stuff of dreams, really, specifically his dreams, and more often than he’d like to admit.

Felix’s brain is having a hard time comprehending.

“As I said, Felix took fantastic care of me,” says Annette kindly. Then, she reaches up and brushes Felix’s bangs away from his forehead.

“I’d prefer it if the two of you would continue taking care of yourselves within the gate.” Byleth pauses. “And after the meeting. We have things to discuss.”

The mention of a war council breaks the spell that’d fallen over Felix. He can feel his skin burning bright red in embarrassment, and worst of all, Annette looks like she doesn’t have a care in the world.

And she’s holding his hand. He hadn’t noticed her grabbing it.

“When I was singing about the dark, handsome swordsman, who’d you think I was imagining?” asks Annette, words quiet enough for only Felix to hear.

“When you were singing about what?”

Annette pouts. “Oh darn, so you were asleep then. I’d hoped you weren’t.”

“Annette, what on earth--”

“Later,” says Annette. “Mostly because Byleth is giving you the stink eye, and I think it’s because we’ve delayed his carefully planned schedule.”

One look at the Professor proves her right. Felix clears his throat and takes several steps away, before grabbing the reins of the horse. “Right, then. I’ll just handle this. The horse, I mean.”

“I’ll see you in the war room,” says Annette, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet.

Felix decides that he doesn’t hate the light-hearted, flabbergasted feeling that’s floating through him. He also knows that the moment he regains his wits abashment will hit him full force because he’d practically eaten Annette’s face off in front of half the Monastery guard.

And Byleth.

So, Felix properly excuses himself in favor of stabling their new horse and perhaps locking himself away forever out of embarrassment.

If he’d stayed just a moment longer, he’d have seen Annette flash Byleth a conspiratorial wink as she passes him by. And how Byleth smiles slyly in return, tapping at his nose like he’s keeping a secret.

#felannie #felix x annette #felix hugo fraldarius #annette fantine dominic #fire emblem three houses #fire emblem fanfiction

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oliverstarked · 5 years ago

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chase the light

[R, 2.3k words, pure fluff] read on ao3

“I’m in love with you,” Buck tells Eddie, like it’s a fundamental truth of the universe, the thing that keeps the stars in the sky and the ocean tides anchored to the moon.

And Eddie. Eddie doesn’t know what to do with that.

“What?” he rasps, like maybe he misheard. His head is spinning. He’s got a sleeping Christopher in his arms and is halfway out of Buck’s apartment having spent an evening stuffing his face with tacos and losing spectacularly at Mario Kart. All he’d said was ‘see you later’, and then Buck had to go and say that.

Buck smiles, soft and uncertain, like he hasn’t just tipped Eddie’s world upside down.

“I used to be scared to even think it,” he tells Eddie, in that earnest and honest way of his. “I’m not anymore. And I’ll say it as many times as you need until you’re ready to hear it.”

Eddie just stares at him.

“Goodnight, Eddie,” Buck says, not unkindly, and then shuts the door in his face.

Eddie drives home on autopilot. He tucks Christopher in, reads a page and a half of a story when Chris tiredly demands it but can’t stay awake to hear it, uses the bathroom, strips down to his boxers, and collapses into bed, where he stares at his ceiling and replays what Buck said over and over and over in his head.

It’s not like Eddie didn’t know, on some level, that what he has with Buck surpasses just friendship. He’s felt too many times the overwhelming fear and grief that comes with Buck being too close to death to pretend like it’s all platonic.

But the swaying into each other’s space, testing boundaries, and innuendo-based teasing could all easily be chalked up to a crush or innocent flirting. Eddie has excused his own behavior that way more times than he count. It’s not like they’ve ever actually pushed things further.

Except then Eddie thinks about when he was in the hospital a few weeks ago, about how Buck wouldn’t let go of his hand the whole way in the ambulance, or when the doctors were trying to tend to him, even though his knuckles were crusted with mud, dirt caught under his fingernails, an icy chill under his skin. He thinks about Buck eventually falling asleep with his head on the bed, Eddie’s entire arm trapped underneath him. Buck had looked so exhausted, yet Eddie was the one who’d fought his way out from underground.

He remembers the way Buck had taken him home after, collected Chris from Abuela’s and scooped him into bed next to Eddie, layering blankets over the two of them and touching Eddie’s forehead as he fell asleep. He definitely remembers the next morning, unaware Buck had crashed on the couch until he woke to the smell of bacon and a blinding smile.

So maybe Eddie thinks about it, lying there in bed. And maybe he thinks about getting to touch Buck, or kiss him, or hold his hand — things he’s never allowed himself to imagine could actually happen but are now within arm’s reach.

But he knows himself, and he’s not good at relationships. He loved Shannon so much but he still joined the army to get away from her and his unborn child. Even when she came back into their lives he wasn’t good enough, couldn’t be what she needed him to be. He wants so badly to be better, to teach Christopher that it’s okay to feel and cry and talk about things, but he can never seem to take his own advice. The words just get jammed up in his throat. He’s a closed book, and the story isn’t even worth reading.

A dull buzz from his phone makes him tense up, because it’s nearly midnight and there’s only one person who’d text him this late.

From: Buck 11:37pm not gonna apologize but do wanna make sure you’re not freaking out too bad! remember to use your words not your fists

And Eddie can’t help but choke on a laugh, because even now Buck is checking in on him. They both know that normally Buck is the one Eddie would go to about something like this, and here he is still trying to be that person. But Eddie doesn’t know how to reply. What does he say? That yeah, he is freaking out? That maybe he’s not freaking out enough? That they should talk properly about all this because there’s more to consider than just feelings , there’s Chris and their jobs. That in the end none of that matters because all he really wants to do is climb Buck like a tree?

He can’t say any of that.

Sent to: Buck 11:44pm I’m ok I think. I’ll come over tomorrow after I’ve dropped C at school. We’ll talk?

Eddie presses send. Then, before he can doubt himself, he taps out:

Don’t want to hurt you.

He realizes how it sounds as soon as it’s gone, like he’s planning on letting Buck down gently. And maybe he is, Eddie doesn’t fucking know. But what he’d meant is that he’ll only end up hurting Buck the way he hurt Shannon, the way he hurt his parents when he left Texas, the way he hurt Christopher when he reenlisted.

From: Buck 11:46pm you won’t

Eddie huffs out a breath that feels a little shaky. He rests his phone on his chest and closes his eyes. A tentative hope blossoms in the small spaces between his ribcage, wraps its tendrils around his heart and squeezes and he slowly falls asleep between one maybe and the next.

Things are a little harder in the cold light of day. Chris notices something is off during their morning routine but he just gives Eddie a side-eyed look that is way too grown up for a nine-year-old. When they get to school Eddie kills the engine and twists in his seat, bites his lip and blurts out, “How would you feel if Buck was around a bit more?”

Chris lights up as he always does at Buck’s name and really, stupid fucking question Edmundo.

“He’s already around a lot,” Chris says, matter of fact, “how much more are we talking?”

Eddie can’t help but laugh. “That’s a good point. Maybe, more sleepovers? But instead of on the couch, Buck might share my bed.”

Even saying it aloud sends a shiver down Eddie’s spine. He feels his face heat up and wills Christopher not to notice.

“Carla says we have to find things that make us happy and hold them really tightly,” Chris explains haltingly. His arm comes out and thwacks uncoordinatedly into Eddie’s, so Eddie gently takes his hand and rubs his thumb over the tight muscles in Christopher’s little fingers out of long-standing habit. “Buck is your happy thing, Daddy.”

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes. “Yeah, maybe he is. Hey, how’d you get so clever, huh? You tryna outsmart your dad?”

A boisterous laugh escapes Chris and it’s infectious, leaves Eddie still grinning when he gets back to the truck after saying goodbye. His phone beeps as he’s buckling his seatbelt and his stomach swoops as he picks it up.

From: Buck 8:04am you still coming over? I got coffee and bear claws from that place you like

Eddie replies to say that he’s on his way then lurches out of the parking lot into the tangled knot of LA traffic. It takes him forever to get to Buck’s and his nerves only increase with each mile until his knee is jumping and he’s practically sweating through his shirt. Which is dumb because this is Buck . He knows Eddie better than anyone, he’s not gonna expect some poetic outpouring of love from him.

Although there’s a brave part of Eddie that wants to try anyway.

By some goddamn miracle he manages to pull himself together by the time he reaches Buck’s apartment. Usually he lets himself right in but today he knocks, because this feels important. When the door swings open, Buck grins at him. He’s in a t-shirt and sweatpants, hair soft and ruffled. He looks stupid hot. Eddie lets himself think that and feels no regret about it because he’s sure Buck has done it on purpose.

“Hey,” Buck says, a little too loudly. It’s only because Eddie can see right through him that he spots the hint of apprehension there. “I, uh, wasn’t actually sure if you’d come.”

Truthfully, Eddie tells him, “I’ll always come, Buck. Doesn’t matter what’s going on between us, you know that.”

A little guiltily, he thinks of the time during the lawsuit when that wasn’t really the case. He wasn’t there for Buck then, not like he should have been. And he didn’t let Buck see how much he was hurting, either. But he likes to think they’ve learned from that. Eddie’s not the same man he was then.

Buck reaches behind Eddie to push the door closed, bounces a little on the balls of his feet like he does when he’s anxious and heads into the kitchen where there’s a pastry box and two cardboard coffee cups on the counter. “Well, I figured coffee would sweeten the deal,” he says, holding one of the cups out for Eddie.

“The deal being, what? You? ” Eddie asks with a smirk.

“I know, it’s pretty sweet already,” Buck winks, and Eddie laughs despite himself. He could melt in relief at how uncomplicated this is, how comfortable he instinctively feels around Buck.

Eddie takes the coffee cup only to place it back down on the counter. He takes a step closer to lessen the distance between them.

“Tell me again,” he says quietly.

Buck’s smile gentles. “Eddie. I’m in love with you.”

And maybe, just maybe, Eddie could get used to hearing that. He takes another step, until he’s so close he can feel Buck’s chest rise with each inhale. From there it’s easy to lean in until their mouths brush.

Buck tastes faintly like toothpaste, his lips a little chapped, and his smile becomes so wide that it breaks the kiss. A lump forms in Eddie’s throat at the look on Buck’s face; wide-eyed wonder and delight. Like he can’t believe he gets to have this. And Eddie wants to give it to him, he really does, but he swallows and places a hand on Buck’s chest.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he confesses, voice quiet in the air between them. “I want this with you, Buck, I really do. But I’m—”

“Scared?” Buck interrupts. He makes a face. “Me too. But we have each other’s backs, right? So I’m diving in. Head first. ‘Cause… I think this could be really good, Eddie.”

Whatever scrap of hesitation Eddie had left dissolves in the face of Buck’s words and Eddie crashes into him, kissing him hard. He grips Buck’s waist, skin warm and solid beneath his palms, moans a little when Buck hauls him closer and places his hand on the back of Eddie’s neck, stroking his hair there.

“I’m in love with you,” Buck laughs between kisses and graceless footsteps as they fall over each other trying to get upstairs while also removing their clothes.

“I’m in love with you,” Buck whispers as they tumble onto the bed, lips pressed desperately against Eddie’s jaw, collarbone, navel, thighs — hickeys blooming to life under his touch. Eddie gasps, hand in Buck’s hair, urges him on.

“I’m in love with you,” Buck pants into his mouth, arms bracketed either side of Eddie’s head as they rock against each other, Eddie’s fingers digging into Buck’s back, feeling the smooth slide of muscles under skin as Buck jerks his hips forward and they both groan.

And, a little while later, “I’m so in love with you,” Buck sighs, as his release stripes Eddie’s trembling stomach, hot and tacky, and Eddie follows straight after with a string of fierce curses and the overwhelming sensation that everything has fallen perfectly into place.

They kiss and kiss in the aftermath as they slowly come back down to earth. Eddie’s knees feel weak and his lips swollen. Eventually Buck smirks at him and says, “We are too damn good at that not to do that again. Lots.”

Eddie chuckles and shifts them so that Buck can rest his head on his shoulder. He presses his nose into Buck’s hair, loosely draping an arm around him. Buck sprawls out, inordinately pleased with himself as always, leg and arm flopping over Eddie and effectively pinning him to the mattress.

“Hey,” Buck says.

“Yeah?”

“Did I mention that I’m crazy in love with you?”

“Buck…” Eddie groans, even as his lips twitch and his face heats.

“I can’t help it,” Buck laughs. “The floodgates have opened, man. Get used to it.”

All Eddie wants in that moment is to say it back as quickly and confidently as Buck says it. Because he does feel it, so wildly and completely that he thinks it could kill him one day.

“I feel,” he starts slowly, deliberately, “more for you than I have for anyone, ever , apart from Chris. I don’t know what the right words are for how much I love you.”

Buck’s breath catches and he kisses Eddie’s chest once, twice, three times before he says lightly, “Pretty good words right there.”

They should get up. They’re sticky and stink of sex and need a shower. There’s cold coffee sitting in the kitchen and Eddie’s got errands he needs to run. But right now, none of that seems as important as Buck kissing him back into the pillows and whispering sweet nothings in his ear.

Eddie decides everything else can wait.

#buddiefic #buddie fic #evan buckley #eddie diaz #buddie #buck/eddie #fluff #911 fox #911fic #*fic

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pinkysfaultorbrainsfault · 4 years ago

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pinky and the brain: s1e7 - tv or not tv

y’all do NOT understand how many times i have tried to post this. tumblr just will not stop eating it. this was supposed to be out last wednesday LMAO i am doing my best.

episode summary: brain engineers a pair of Mouse Dentures that give him a charming smile. anyone hypnotised by these dentures Suddenly Adores Him For No Good Reason. unfortunately, he’s also a bit of a shut in, so nobody is actually going to see his charming smile-- unless he gets himself a sitcom.

....or something.

the rundown:

we open on brain talking about the “weird and magical power” of celebrity. he has defaced several women, and is sticking his ass out. as you do. what is he doing to CINDY! and her ilk?? he must be stopped.

“those who have it weild tremendous influence. few can avoid the enchantment of its’ spell.”

“do you know what gives them this power?”

holy shit. he just stabbed CINDY!.

pinky absolutely does not care for CINDY!’s fate. “haha. narf. hey, paddlefoot, do you know what they call a quarter pounder in france?”

of course, sirius black was not in pulp fiction, and neither, as far as i can tell, was he in france. brain silences him with “enough gay banter”, like he wasn’t just sticking his ass out in his general direction, like, two minutes ago.

(this was the 90s, y’all. gay definitely meant gay back then. this is not the faraway tree.)

“pinky! behold the key to the power of attraction!”

“pushpins!”

“hurraaaaaaaaaaaah!”

“no, pinky.”

apparently the key to attraction is a

“winning smile”, as brain points out, tapping on CINDY!’s poor mutilated face for emphasis.

“and a nice healthy gum!”

“and... a nice healthy gum.”

it turns out that brain has “taken this idea of the influential smile to a new level - a level no less than world domination“, which is bold words for Mr Tumble Dryer. to achieve this, he has invented

teeth.

(okay. so it’s a bit bigger than that. he shows pinky the plans for,

and then a prototype of, a whole machine built specifically to engineer him little mousie dentures. a lot of work went into this one. shame, really.

“when did you have time to build that?”

“while you were engrossed in your mr belvedere reruns.”

“oh, i miss him. ):” )

anyway so. brain puts his teeth in.

there he is.

pinky describes this as

“enchanting (’:”

and brain affirms that it’s supposed to be. apparently the “reflective vibrations” (okay) of his smile stimulates the medula oblongata,

“causing the viewer to adore me for no good reason!”

“zort! i’m adoring you for no good reason!”

(he does point out, while brain is admiring his reflection in a nearby bunsen burner, “what if they’re wearing sunglasses?”

brain’s response is “we’ll work nights.”)

still, brain can’t just sit around in the lab twiddling his thumbs and expect the general public to Adore Him For No Reason. he needs exposure! and as pinky ponders “what would mr belvedere do,” brain asserts that he would “eat some butter”.

“i’m afraid, my friend, that you’ve seen far too much of mr belvede--”

more like mr belvIDEA lol. sorry i’ll see myself out.

“pinky, are you pondering what i’m pondering?”

“i think so, brain, bur it’s a miracle that this one grew back. ):”

.....okay.

thankfully, the plan is not, in fact, to amputate pinky’s leg. again???? instead, brain intends to use a weapon of “great stealth, power, and corruption.”

OUR OWN SITCOM.

✨

meanwhile, at the wb studio, we meet jerry kilmer. mr kilmer is currently being harassed by some dudes who also really, really want their own sitcom. for far less nefarious purposes, presumably.

“so there’s this guy, right?”

“and get this! he designs--”

“BIKINIS.”

“TINY LITTLE BIKINIS. OKAY okay okay okay so here’s the hook.”

“HE’S PRETENDING--”

“TO BE BLIND.”

it does not appear to be what mr kilmer is looking for.

(meanwhile, the mice are spying on the acme labs janitor. he seems like a cool dude! but the mice are not here for friendship.

they sneak into his jacket pocket!

and...... steal his.... car keys? “YES. to the television station!”

✨

this isn’t even the first vehicle he’s stolen. hopefully he’ll have this one back by curfew as well.)

they do get pulled over by the police, but i don’t want to go into that. unless you guys reaaaallly want me to. instead, they park outside the studio and harass some poor receptionist.

“excuse me. we’re here to-- pitch. as they say. a sitcóm. my dear.”

i don’t know why brain says words like that.

“appointment?”

“oh, i’m sure you can--”

“work us in.” says brain. he is sticking his ass out for no reason. all the appeal is in his sparkly dentures, so.... there’s really no need for that, my dude.

✨

“you’re next! for no good reason!”

these dudes are still here. “wait!” yells our budding comedian, “wait! check out this idea. it’s about a guy!”

original.

“who always sticks his foot in his mouth!!”

clever. unfortunately, his demonstration goes wrong, and he ends up kicking mr kilmer in the face.

bonk.

gives him a nasty black eye to boot. ouch.

“ugh. can’t i ever just see someone normal?”

good thing these very normal individuals have just shown up, huh? nothing shady about these guys. “ugh, thank goodness,” says mr kilmer. they introduce themselves politely as jonathan michael charles (left) and jamal spelling (right).

“you guys have quite a look.”

“thank you.”

✨

“alright then. what do you got for me?”

“egad, brain.”

“he’s not adoring you for no good reason!!”

“drat.”

“well. we’re young hip adults--”

“and hijinks ensue!”

“who sit on a big fat couch and whine--”

“with disaaaasterous results!!”

“and have lots of generation x friends who trade zippy, sarcastic banter.”

“and i have a monkey.”

a very original concept.

at least, mr kilmer sems to think so. “hmmm. fresh. but tell me! what really brings you here. what are jamal and jonathan all about.”

“actually, we are two lab mice involved in a broad and sweeping plan to take over the world.”

mr kilmer thinks this is hilarious, apparently.

these guys do not. but they’re not important, for the moment.

the long and short of it, anyway, is that kilmer can’t give them a sitcom because nobody knows who they are, quote unquote. “the day i see your face on the cover of peeple magazine is the day you get a sitcom.”

irritated, jamal and jonathan make their exit.

and mr kilmer laughs so hard at the idea of lab mice trying to take over the world, that he falls out of his chair.

this will become relevant later.

meanwhile -- i just had to screencap this, okay, because of brain’s face. pinky suggests that he get on the cover of peeple by marrying prince charles. and brain thinks this is a horrible idea.

he’s much more interested in princess diana. but no, pinky, the path he must follow is “the same one followed by the leading sitcom stars of the day.”

“i must become a SUCCESSFUL STANDUP COMEDIAN.”

“so hey, how about those mitochondria? do they have enough cilia or what?”

“hey, why don’t you tell a joke you know!”

this may be harder than brain thought. undeterred, though, he presses on.

“do you ever notice how when you’re looking in the mirror of a quadrant electrometre, your forehead seems large?? why is that??”

“i just flew in from cleveland! and boy are my upper extremeties fatigued by a buildup of lactic acid!”

“booooooooooooooo!” says our guy on the left.

“go back to your troll village, squirt!” says his friend on the right. “what do you say to that?”

“i find you repugnant.”

(well. that made them laugh, at least.)

“your stupidity is matched only by the ill-slipped caterpillar, that chews off its’ own wings after emerging from its’ cucoon!!!”

“in fact! all of you! are just a gaggle of pathetically misguided root diggers!!”

“why don’t you all stand under a stalactite and bellow the resonate frequency, causing it to plummet onto your cranium!!”

“you’re all repugnant i say!!! repugnant!!!”

and with that little mousie tantrum out of his system, brain trundles off to sulk.

pinky claps him on the way out.

“egad brain! narf! they love you!”

“yes.”

so then he goes on tv, i guess.

“our comedy challenger is the master of insults! the prince of putdowns! jamal spelling!”

“you’re all a bunch of crevulating nitwits with peat moss for a cortex. repugnant!”

i don’t envy that guy third from the right. he doesn’t look like he’s having a very good time. he’s sensitive about his peat moss cranium, okay? don’t make fun of him.

NEXT ON G, HOWIE TURN HOSTS COMEDIAN JAMAL SPELLING.

“so, uh, jamal spelling. what kind of stupid name is that? cmon? what’s your real name?”

this would be racist if jamal spelling was a human man comedian and not like, a lab mouse. thankfully, this is not the case.

“my real name is the brain.” says brain, helpfully enunciating the “the”. “and you, my unwashed friend, are repugnant.”

HA HA. HA HA HA HA HA.

“oh, you’re hot, baby.”

okay.

but we’re, uh. we’re not going to think about that, and we’re going to go look at the david letterman show instead.

“uh, my next guest-- paul, do you know who our next guest is?”

“daaaaave, i know he’s a beautiful kind of-- nutty cat who just got us all a-wow.”

“here he is, ladies and gentlemen! for your comedy dollar, jamal spelling!!”

jamal spelling appears to be naked.

but he’s funny, so nobody minds.

“somebody here smells like a coagulated agar slant growing in a petri dish. repugnant!”

see! he’s just too comedy for clothes.

(meanwhile, we take a short trip to the office of janet mekko. “welcome, mr kilmer,” she says.

“my... secretary sent me here-- actually, i feel kind of stupid.”

“oh, honey. that’s a good thing! if there weren’t any stupid people, i wouldn’t have any business.”

“now. ya got some paaaaaiiiiiiiiiiiiiin.”

(in the distance, dan reynolds - at the tender age of eight - mumbles “you made me a, you made me a believer” in his sleep.)

“yeah.” says mr kilmer, completely unaware of this. “i fell out of my chair.”

“i’m gonna hypnotise you, so relax.”

okay.

“this’ll make you sleepy.”

“what is it?”

“a kenny g album.”

“okay. you’re in a trance. i’m gonna give you a random word. if you feel pain, say that word, you’ll feel good.”

“but careful! cause if you say it when you’re feeling good, the pain will come back! bad.”

spooky.

“and your random word is--”

“repugnant.”

there is, of course, absolutely no way this can go wrong.)

let us turn our view to happier pastures. namely, the mice are watching tv.

TONIGHT ON CIRCUS OF THE STARS

HARRY DEAN ANDERSON GETS SHOT OUT OF A GIANT PASTA MAKER

COMEDIAN JAMAL SPELLING FLIES THE TRAPEZE

AND BOB SAGET GETS TRAMPLED BY A BEAR. we hope.

pinky is elated! “egad, brain! circus of the stars! narf! you’ve really made it!”

pinky wants to be on circus of the stars, don’t you know. unfortunately, as he dutifully informs brain in pretty much the same breath, he hasn’t quite made it into peeple magazine yet.

“hm. it’s time to use plan b, pinky.”

“there was an a?? poit.”

ouch. jesus, pinky.

undeterred, brain marches his merry little ass over to the old timey corded phone.

beep.

“yes, connect me with buckinham palace, please.”

“egad! you did it brain! the cover of peeple!”

rule britannia is playing in the background of this scene. let’s... not think too hard about how this works, and agree that, yes, pauly shore, enough.

no more pauly shore, please.

conclusion:

jerry keeps his word, and, upon learning that jamal spelling is now legally married to princess diana (a fact which would certainly not lead to a warrant for his arrest in a couple of years) he asks him for a demo tape.

for such small hands, jamal sure does have very neat handwriting.

“make me laugh, jamal, and you got yourself a sitcom.”

“why don’t you all stand under a stalactite and bellow the resonate frequency, causing it to plummet onto your cranium!!”

he seems to like it! kilmer makes a little hee hee noise, unprepared for where this is undoubtedly going.

“you’re repungnant!”

“AAUGHGHGHHH.”

there it is.

“repugnant!”

“i say repugnant!”

repugnant repugnant repugnant repugnant

repugnant!

and with that, jerry kilmer falls out of the window.

as he does, he yells “i’ll get you, jamal spelling” which personally i think is unfair. jamal couldn’t have known, surely? don’t be mean to jamal. he’s got a lot on his mind, what with that restraining order against howie turn.

meanwhile, in the lab, the mice debate a good pitch for a pilot (i’ve got it, brain! it’s a show about nothing!) when jamal spelling gets a call.

“hi jamal! this is nina from the tv station. could you come down for a meeting?”

“mm hmmm.”

✨

it’s the WB.

as nina types away, jamal and jonathan enter casually, like this is their house, or something. “are you pleased to see us?” asks jamal, in a cocky, egomaniac labmouse sort of way.”

“yes i am!”

(nina somehow doesn’t notice.)

anyway then these guys find the dentures and pitch the first idea that comes into their heads.

“hey cortex! what do you wanna do tonight?”

don’t ask why mouse dentures fit a human man. we suspend our disbelief here.

(also there was no way this was brain’s fault. he couldn’t have known. outside influence it is. a shame, really.)

brain: 7 pinky: 7 outside influence: 14

thanks for the fun meme, @shuunthenonbeliever !

#patb #pinky and the brain #WHEEZE #if this refuses to post ONE MORE TIME #i am going to go FERAL #i have typed this all out THREE TIMES #I HAVE HAD ENOUGH #some explodey boys for y'all on saturday!#i hope.#if this episode EVER POSTS.

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join-the-joywrite · 4 years ago

Text

Hamish & Vera soulmate au headcannons

Part two of the first words au suggested by my girl, Sima, as demanded requested.

I am Not Happy about this

I'm a very big fan of saying "fuck canon" in favour of my otp happening but honestly ,,,,, the pain is too great to pass up so here we go.

It took months for Hamish to properly open up verbally. When he did, Vera asked about the ring. He told her all about Cassie and Nico, save the bit about the Knights.

It was a few more months when Hamish started visiting the old places he used to love to favourite with Cassie, but they still weren't the same. He didn't mind, though. They were just places now. Places that held pleasant memories. Now, important places are where he goes with Vera.

Hamish is on his way to meeting Vera when he runs into Randall Carpio. The man is crazy, Hamish first thinks. Then, he'd make a good knight.

"Who's the lovely lady? Hi, I'm Randall Carpio, and you are?"

"Taken."

"Damnit, Hamish!"

Vera finds him endearing, somewhat, as one would a toddler. Two days later, Hamish decides to invite Randall into the Knights. Greybeard chooses him and they celebrate. It feels good to have someone to talk to about things only a Knight would understand. He thought about Vera, but after Cassie, he didn't think he could handle it. Besides, Randall looks like he'd take on a wolf without being one of them. He's perfect for the job.

Hamish knocks on Vera's door late one night.

"Are you okay?" "Can I stay here tonight? Please."

Vera obviously lets him in.

"You ever meet someone and you know they've done nothing wrong at all, but it feels like they're trying to replace someone you've lost?" Vers tries a joke, "This isn't about me and Cassie, is it?" Thankfully, Hamish finds the joke funny. "You, no. Cassie, yes. Randall's made this friend and honestly there's nothing wrong with her but . . . it's like she's wearing Cassie's favourite jacket and I can't get her to take it off."

Hamish intentionally leaves out the part where he was the one who opened the doors for Lilith. Vera would find the metaphor much more impactful if she knew Hamish meant Timber.

Hamish doesn't talk much about Lilith to Vera, though it's not as if they get a chance to talk at all. Now with Randall and Lilith knighted, Hamish has found purpose outside of Vera -- taking down the Order. They were what got Nico killed and they were what got Cassie killed. Hamish knew the Order was the bad magic he's supposed to fight. In addition, Vera's just been made Temple Magus and it is a lot more more work than she'd anticipated. Not to mention, having the university in her jurisdiction included attaining the seat of Chancellor. Fuck the social life, I guess.

At least they're always able to come home to each other.

Unfortunately, that too starts falling apart.

Hamish gets pulled deeper and deeper into uncovering the Order with Randall and Lilith, slowly figuring out how to find the pledges and get rid of them. Since he'd told Vera about Cassie, talking about the departed Knight becomes easier. He struggles a bit to explain it all to Randall, but he's able to speak properly and tell Lilith all about Cassie. When Hamish reveals that Cassie had been Timber's champion, Lilith understands. She is harsh and brash and often rude, but she also has a heart to love, no matter how guarded and hidden. She makes an effort to distinguish herself from Timber and from Cassie. Hamish makes an effort to see Lilith instead of Cassie's replacement. Once they succeed on that, their relationship improves tenfold. (Randall is relieved. He was worried his days as a Knight were gonna be filled to the brim with tension and loathing)

Vera gets pulled deeper into the Order. She's sucked into the position she's been granted and no matter how much she tries to leave it for a break now and then, something or the other pulls her back. It doesn't help that the pledges decrease in number every year due to at least one of them dying.

By the time Jack Morton makes his way to Belgrave, things have quite nearly fallen apart. Hamish has stopped visiting an empty house. Vera's stopped trying to call when she finally leaves the temple, only to reach the voicemail of a sleeping Hamish, who's stopped trying to send texts every odd hour.

Given that Jack never actually said Vera's name to the Knights (I believe, and if I'm wrong shhh it's an au), it's no surprise that the the earlier parts of Finals Pt.2 is slightly more comedy than pain. (Let's assume Lilith never mentions Vera's name upon regaining her memories either)

Let it also be known that I, for the life of me, cannot recall how the entire scene plays out, so we just gonna make it up as we go along =)

Hamish is down in the basement when Jack brings a new ally to the den. An injured Lilith is there.

"Miss Bathory." "Bitch." "Fair enough."

Randall is in next, excited to see Lilith back in the den. "Hey! I knew you weren't dead!"

"Randall?" "Vera! Heyyyyy, long time no see, huh? Wh -- what . . . what are you doing here?" "You -- you're one of them? The werewolves?" "Shiiiiiiiit, you know?? Wait, you're not like,, in the Order, are you?" "How long have you been a werewolf?" *guilty face* "FROM THE START????"

Lilith & Jack: 🤨 wtf is happening here

Hamish returns. "Guys, who's. . ." Hamish stares at Vera. For a while, he wonders how she found the den. Then he wonders what she's doing at the den. Then he recalls Jack mentioning that he was bringing an unlikely ally. He'd figured unlikely ally meant someone in the Order. ". . . here?"

Vera shoots Jack a glare. "What the fuck is this, Mr Morton?"

"Uhh . . . I didn't-- I wasn't aware you guys were, uh . . . friends?"

Hamish is still staring at Vera. "This what you've been doing for years? Magic? The Order? That promotion . . . it wasn't about the chancellor position, was it?"

(Lil bit of comedy = Randall: WAIT, SHE'S THE TEMPLE MAGUS??????)

"You say magic like it's evil. Have you ever once thought about the fact that you've been murdering my pledges every year since Miss Bathory was expelled from the Order? Which is more evil, Hamish, protecting magic or killing its practitioners?"

"Your people got Cassie and Nico killed," Hamish hisses, "those practitioners you're protecting are the reason Cassie and Nico died. Magic. Is. Evil."

"Magic isn't evil! I was barely a Magistratus when your ex-girlfriend was killed! Do you think I enjoyed all those respondeo incantations? Wh-- why do you think I started spending so much time at the temple? Making sure I stayed Temple Magus? I am trying to make the Order better. But you? All you care about is murdering my Neophytes. Children."

(Randall: intense wincing as his parents fight. Jack & Lilith: perplexed but very invested in the drama. Jack's a lil upset that he's got plans to go and confront Edward. He kinda wanted to see the rest of that argument.)

"Oh, that's rich, V," Hamish snaps. Despite the clear rage radiating off of Hamish, Vera isn't afraid. The nickname is familiar and welcome. It's home. Hamish, no matter how far he is from her, is home. Doesn't mean she's not got her own barrel of problems to spill.

"Rich?? I'm not the one out here killing people before they get the chance to even live. You -- you -- you are -- you're a monster, you know that?" She says it factually, as if it's something common knowledge.

"Really, V? Are we doing this now?" "Might as well! If we're all going to die, I'm not going down without getting everything out. You know, while we're on the topic of being brutally honest before we die, Mr Morton, your sense of style is horrendous, Miss Bathory, your temper is infuriating and Randall . . . you -- you -- your jokes are lame!"

Funny enough, Randall is most offended. And then Lilith has his attention because she's hurt. "Can you help?" "I don't trust her." "I don't recall caring, do you want me to save your life or not?"

Hamish is pissed as Vera turns to help Lilith. Amusingly, he's pissed because Vera isn't paying him any attention. But there are more pressing matters, like the incoming army. "We have company."

"Fucking Kepler," Vera mutters.

Both Hamish and Randall squint at Vera. "Bitsy Kepler?" "Isn't she a bit . . . fickle and stupid to be in the Order?"

"Oh, you know Kepler too?" Lilith asks, more of a rhetorical question.

"No, V just complained about her a lot." "Don't call me that, Randall." "Sorry."

"They are circling the house. What are they up to?" "Knowing Kepler, something unoriginal."

*sounds of the order throwing burning spells.* The look of awe on Hamish's face as he watches Vera cast a protection spell does not escape Randall and Lilith.

"How long is that gonna last?" "Long enough for us to deal with them."

Vera is already following an undressing Hamish to the doors. "No killing." "No promises."

Lilith stares at the empty doorway. "Are we going to talk about th--" "Nope. Not at all. Never. Anything else. Anything but whatever just transpired."

When they get into the temple and set the Vade Maecum alight, Hamish thinks maybe it isn't so bad. Maybe Vera's right, maybe she can turn the Order around. Maybe magic isn't evil. Vera takes his hand. He gives hers a little reassuring squeeze. Come hell or high water, he'll always come back to her.

It's what soulmates do.

"So, Grand Magus, huh?" "Mhm." "I didn't think you remembered this spot exists."

Vera, despite her new persona of professionalism and perfection, gets down on the grass beside Hamish. She looks at him carefully. Is she doing the right thing? Probably not. But will it keep him safe from her and the Order? More likely than not.

"What is it, V?"

"Nothing. Just thinking."

"About?"

"Us. What happened to us?"

"Magic," Hamish jokes, lightly tapping his forehead against hers. I missed you.

Vera squeezes his hand twice. I love you.

Hamish closes his eyes. So much trust he has in Vera that despite knowing she's on the other side of the great divide between the Knights and the Order, he still trusts her enough to be around her blind. Vera's guilt starts eating at her insides already. It makes her sick, but she hasn't got a better choice. The alternative is allowing the order to launch an attack on the Knights -- and if the Order could kill werewolves before, they can kill them again. Vera never wants to feel the pain Hamish felt after losing Cassie.

This is losing him, but at least she knows he's alive and safe. Safe from the Order, from magic, from all of Belgrave's dirty little secrets.

She wants to be the one to monitor him, but Grand Magus duties steal her time and attention worse than Temple Magus did. She hates having to leave him in the hands of one of the Medicums, but she can't exactly do it herself, despite wanting to.

"I thought I was the quiet one," Hamish jokes.

"Shh. Some . . . peace and quiet is welcome."

"V, are you--" Vera quickly claps her hand over his eyes. "Sh. Don't . . . don't say anything. Don't open your eyes. I just . . . I just want to see you for a moment."

Hamish smiles and complies. Vera fights to keep her shaking breath quiet. She lowers her hand slowly. Could she spare time for one last kiss? Just one? No. One would never be enough. And she knows that if Hamish kisses her now, her entire resolve will break.

She squeezes his hand twice. I love you.

Before he can respond, Vera blows the powder in his face. She sits up slowly. Dear God, she was sure she'd done something horrible in a past life to warrant this kind of torture. At least for Hamish, losing Cassie hadn't been the product of his own making.

"Your name is Hamish Duke. You go to Belgrave University. You're a TA and -- and you study psychology. Forget the Hermetic Order of the Blue Rose. Forget the Knights of Saint Christopher. Forget . . . Vera Stone."

Vera pulls him up. "Hey, that looked like a nasty fall. Are you okay?"

"Uh, yeah. Yeah, I'm okay, I think. Thanks."

"Sure." Vera can't help the two subtle squeezes she gives his hand before leaving. I love you. She doesn't want to be there when Selena Durov leaves her class and arrives. She doesn't want to see what Selena says to Hamish, what lies she feeds him and what she does. Vera wants to lock herself in her office and never see another person again.

Hamish frowns as he watches her leave. He wondered what had happened to her that her eyes were so sad. Part of him want to run after her and ask her. Ask her name at the very least. But something keeps him rooted to the spot where he stands.

Who was she and why did he feel like she'd said something very important?

Hamish holds his own wrist for a moment, feeling the ghost of her touch. The slight squeezes he thought he'd imagined.

I love you.

Who the hell was she? And why did he feel like he really ought to know her.

Part 3

Did I win yet, ladies? Or do you want part 3?

@gingersimasnapsandvermishthings @bakulka @everythingabouthatship

See some other soulmate aus I've tried my hand at

#vera x hamish #hamish duke #hamish x vera #vera stone #the order #netflix #the hermetic order of the blue rose #the knights of st christopher #the knights of the blue rose #the knights of saint christopher #soulmate #soulmate aus #please just give me the soulmate au i want

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lopithecusfanfiction · 4 years ago

Text

Glory and Fame with a Bullet with No Name

Author: Lopithecus Pairing: Markus/Connor Rating: Teen+ Word Count: 1498 Alternate: AO3 Summary: Markus is making a speech after the successful demonstrations that freed the androids from the camps, with Connor as his bodyguard. However, things don't go as planned and one of them gets hurt, forcing feelings to be discussed. Warnings: N/A Author's Note: I’ve been meaning to post this fic on Tumblr ever since the Rk1k Week 2019 ended. If you haven’t read it on AO3 already, please enjoy! Prompt: Day 3 - “You were destined for the glory, the honor, and the fame. I was destined for a bullet, to be the gun with no name.”

Connor enters the room and looks around, watching as humans and androids alike enter from the front of the auditorium. He’s nervous, a feeling he isn’t exactly used to having. Markus has decided to have a press conference, taking place only a few weeks after their victory in releasing the androids from the camps. Connor doesn’t think it’s a good idea but Markus is hell bent on having it anyway no matter how persistent Connor expresses his opposition. That’s why he offered to be Markus’ bodyguard. If he can’t stop the android from doing something stupid, he can at least protect him.

“Connor, are you okay?” He startles some at the sound of Markus speaking right behind him.

Turning, he smiles. “I’m fine.” He lets his smile fall. “Markus, are you sure-”

The other android holds up a hand, stopping Connor from saying any more. “Connor, we’ve been over this. I have to do this. I have to let the humans know where we stand and that we aren’t going away.”

“But you just won your protests a few weeks ago,” Connor persists. “Don’t you think it’s risky? Don’t you think you should let a few blow over before standing in front of thousands of humans? Especially with no security.”

Markus places a hand on his shoulder and gives him a smile. “That’s why I have you here.”

Connor shakes his head. “I’m only one android, Markus.”

The android gives Connor shoulder a few pats and then gets into place to walk up on stage. With a sigh, Connor follows, deciding to stay close to the deviant leader. He doesn’t know if Markus is expecting him to be stage and center with him and he really doesn’t care. It’s the only solution he can come up with, the only one that makes the most sense if he wants Markus to get out of this whole thing alive. Connor doesn’t like this one bit. There are too many humans, too many angry and scared humans. Any of them, any of them that aren’t in favor of androids having freedom, could attack.

Simon is the one that does the introductions, calling Markus up onto the stage. They both walk up to the podium, Markus glancing back at Connor to see that he is there. There’s no reaction from the android. Maybe he had predicted such a thing from Connor. Once behind the podium, Markus begins his speech and Connor scans the room once more.

There are more humans than androids in the crowd, only serving to cause Connor more unease. He has a bad feeling about this place, doesn’t like how jam packed it is. It’s hard to tell what the humans are doing, what they are caring in their hands. They should have set up some android security by the doors, maybe even some metal detectors, though those would go off every time an android walked through it. To Connor, it would be worth it if it meant Markus being safe.

The lights that are shining on them are blinding and Connor has to adjust his visual processor to accommodate it, making it easier to see the crowd. He goes one by one, learning each and every name in that building, their occupations, and their criminal records. There some without records, some with, mostly assault and battery. More than half of the humans here have no jobs and he can clearly see more than one angry face amongst all the people. Connor counts ten androids out of the thousand-two-hundred humans. He doesn’t like the odds.

As Markus begins to reach the end of his speech, Connor reads the stress level of one particular human as eighty percent. He keeps an eye on this human as Markus starts wrapping up. “I hope this is a beginning to things to come,” Markus says. “A beginning to living harmoniously together and living equal to one another.” The android pauses. “I want to thank you all for coming and for listening.”

The humans stress level is now at ninety-five percent and he sees him stand before everyone else, drawing something out of the inside of his jacket. Connor acts immediately. “Markus, get down!”

The bang of a gun rings loud in the room as people scream and scatter frantically. Markus and Connor hit the ground hard and chaos consumes the room, humans and androids fleeing the room. Connor sits up, drags Markus with him so they are both crouched behind the podium.

“Connor,” he hears Markus’ concerned whisper from beside him and meets the android’s gaze. He looks stricken, one hand on Connor’s shoulder and the other on the floor. Markus’ eyes flit down and Connor’s own eyes follow, noticing right away the blue blood dripping out of his abdomen. “We-we need to get you help.”

Connor shakes his head, reading the pop up of his ultimate shutdown. “No, I need to capture that man.”

Connor makes to get up but Markus’ hand on his shoulder stops him. “Connor!” Connor kneels back down. “Don’t.”

Connor blinks at the android, realizing that Markus is now looking terrified. Another shot rings in the room and the man shouts something. There’s still people screaming all around and Connor doesn’t have time for this. “I am your bodyguard. I have to protect you.”

“No you don’t!” Markus practically yells, taking Connor by surprise. “You’re not a machine anymore, Connor, you don’t have to complete your missions!”

He shrugs Markus’ hand off. “It’s not a mission. It’s a job.” He pulls away, peering around the podium corner to spot the man. If he’s careful he can make it. “Don’t worry, Markus.” He leaves the safety of the podium then, ignoring Markus calling him back.

*~~~*

When Connor opens his eyes, he doesn’t expect to be lying down in a bed in the New Jericho building. He sits up slowly, confusion making its way into his thoughts, but when he goes to reach for where the bullet hole was, his hand is stopped. Connor looks and discovers that someone is holding his hand. His eyes travel up the other’s arm and soon he is met by blue and green eyes.

“Markus,” he says breathlessly. “What happened?”

“You scared me, that’s what happened.” Markus’ eyebrows are furrowed in concerned and he squeezes Connor’s hand. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

“I… don’t remember all of what happened,” Connor continues. “Did I stop the man?”

A chuckle escapes Markus’ mouth. “You tackled him to the ground and wrestled the gun away. It was quite impressive actually.”

“No one else got hurt?”

Markus shakes his head. “Just you.” He frowns. “Connor, thank you for saving me but…” The android wipes at his face. He looks tired. “I thought you were going to die. We were lucky to get you back here in time to replace your damaged biocomponents. I thought…” Markus pauses, avoids eye contact. “I thought I had lost you.”

“You lost me?”

“You’re important to me, Connor.” Markus’ eyes meet Connor’s once more. “You’re more than just important to me. You’re… you’re everything.”

Connor is confused. “Markus, I don’t understand.”

Markus stands and sits down on the edge of the bed, holding Connor’s hand still. The android studies where their hands are joined. “These past few weeks, spending time with you. I’ve grown to be… very fond of you and… I don’t want anything to happen to you. When I thought you were dying, it felt like I was dying. I don’t want you putting yourself at risk like that again.”

Connor’s Thirium pump warms with the declaration of Markus’ feelings. “I feel the same way, Markus.” Markus looks up at him in surprise. “But you have to understand. You were made for glory, for honor, and fame. To be a leader to us. I was made for a bullet, to be a gun, a weapon, with no name. We have different purposes, Markus, and we both are going to act out those differences. You can’t stop me from sacrificing myself for others just as much as I can’t stop you from leading the deviants and putting yourself at risk that way.” He grabs Markus’ other hand, holds them close. “I love you, Markus, and I want to protect you. No matter what.”

Markus is scrutinizing his face and Connor can see the exact moment the android relents. “Okay, Connor. Just, be more careful next time, okay?”

Connor nods. “Okay.”

Markus nods too, stares some more, and then finally leans in closer, pressing their lips together and telling Connor that he loves him too in his own special way. Connor kisses back, savoring in the feel of Markus’ lips against his, not knowing if they’ll live long enough to get another chance. He decides from then on that he will live each day as if it is his last, love Markus with everything he’s got, and enjoy the time he gained. That’s really all any of the androids can do right now.

—————————————————————————————————

A/N: Thanks for reading!!

#Detroit Become Human #Markus/Connor #Conkus #RK1K #Markus #Connor #Glory and Fame with a Bullet with No Name #My Fanfiction #RK1K Week 2019

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botwstoriesandsuch · 4 years ago

Text

Where Time Takes Us

Destination - Part 1

- - - - - - - - - -

Watch the home while she is off to war

The Slumber King versus the rearing boar

Awake, arise, do not be blind

To tales and destinies entwined

In the world we said that we would leave behind

— excerpt from folk song, The World Behind, writer unknown, dated back to the Era of Myth

- - - - - - - - - -

6 months, 3 weeks, and 3 days before the Hyrule Castle Slaughter, the Akkala Citadel Massacre, the slaying of the Champions, the death of the hero, and the rise of Calamity Ganon...

Her job ends on doomsday.

She should be working, and truly she wanted to, but circumstances had led her to walk towards the echoing laughter.

Already trying to prepare the quip she would throw back at them, (as undoubtedly they’d complain about her being late again), the researcher weaved through the familiar roads of West Castle Town. Most of the houses were dark, with the only light source coming from the occasional flickering lantern, and the pale complexion of the midnight moon. Needless to say, it made the warm glow of The Adequate’s Tavern stand out all the more as she approached.

Another roar of laughter and shouts escaped from an open window on the south side of the pub. The bags under her eyes curved with her smile as she recognized one of the voices. She absentmindedly traced her fingers along the outer walls of the tavern as she walked, loose chips of faded blue paint falling to the pavement below. The wooden sign above the door creaked with its askew weight. The Adequate’s Tavern was printed in bold, blue letters atop a faded yellow outline. The missing e’s and t’s gave evidence to the building’s true quality.

Pushing open the door, the researcher was met with a swirl of familiar scents, ranging from alcohol, apples, bread, and leather, along with a smokiness coming from the fireplace near the back of the bar.

Closing the door behind her, she walked through the entrance, passing under a wooden overhang, and alongside a long, stone-slated bar counter. She overheard a conversation between the barkeep and a waiter.

“Yes, they’re here again, so get out there already!”

“The scientists?” the waiter asked.

The man started shoving her towards the storage door behind the bar. “Yes, yes, now hurry up and stock up on that apple cider. I’ve already turned four full pitchers from the three of them, and the fourth is no doubt on the way. We can turn a bigger profit from those kids than any random alcoholic that stumbles in here tonight!”

The waiter disappeared into the back, and the barkeep was left muttering by the counter. Chuckling to herself, the researcher moved away, starting to search for the scientists in question. Other than a single, beige wall that separated the edge of the bar with a support beam in the middle of the room, the pub was very open and lively. Square and circular tables were littered across the floor in mismatched patterns, ranging from oak brown to birch white. Clearly, aesthetic was not the centerpoint of the place.

She walked about the pub, scanning the faces of the men and women alike who crowded by the booths and tables. The tavern mainly housed a sea of Hylians, who let out the occasional drunken laugh, or hearty chuckle. It was a miracle she could hear her thoughts at all, as the air was rich with the sound of clattering dishware and the patter of dancing feet, as in a small corner to the left was a semi-circle stage housing a small band. A Hylian man with umber dark skin, much like her own, blew away at a Lurelin-made, seashell harmonica. To his left, a blonde woman extended her arm in quick and elegant strokes with a bow and fiddle. Two others struck away on small drums and bells, and the playful gig they performed had gotten several people up from their feet to dance for Hylia knows how long. The music wasn’t terrible, but she had heard better, from a certain Sheikah in particular...

As if fate had read her thoughts, she finally caught sight of her friends.

It hindsight, it was easy enough to expect the bard to be at the table closest to the stage. Yet, it was probably the three heads of cloud white, Sheikah hair that gave them away the quickest. A young teenage boy sat across a square table from two other Sheikah, a boy and a girl. He was looking at nothing in particular, as he plucked away at his lute, presumably tuning it. Wrapped around his head was a small cluster of green wooden beads, woven with brown string. They dotted like a line of stars in his fluffy, white hair, alternating between pine and sage shades. The knot tying the strings and beads around his head hung loosely like vines just by his right ear. He was just asking to look like a starstruck, homeless traveler, if it weren’t for the bright red cape pinned across his shoulders. The golden, Hyrulean emblem holding the crimson cloth together signified his status as an important worker of the palace. Although, no one would be surprised that this thin, skinny teenager was a bard and court poet, and not a royal knight.

Suddenly, the bard looked up and met her gaze, a pair of warm, red eyes catching the light of familiarity. He patted the empty seat next to him and said something to the other two Sheikah in front of him. One of them looked back, a young man with storm wild hair that seemed to part like lightning. He had a beige, long sleeve coat over a red tunic, as was the classic Sheikah style. However, the style of his white jacket told of his rank as a scientist. With chocolate eyes and a contagious grin, he nudged the girl next to him and fake coughed.

The young woman wore roughly the same outfit, although she had a navy blue skirt and boots compared to the other guy’s black pants and shoes. Her eyes were also red, albeit, with a more striking scarlet color, compared to the other boy’s warmer wine shade. Looking back, she adjusted her bright, Sheikah red, round, sparkly, diamond decorated glasses, complete with white accents that matched her hair. It was pulled in a messy bun, a hairstyle that her close friends knew was less for looks, and more for practical purposes, as supposedly, “the stupid strands always find ways to bother my eyes. No, stop, I don’t need a comb! My eyeballs are just sensitive, okay?”

Pivoting past a waiter, the researcher finally moved closer to the trio, brushing her curly dark hair above her shoulders as she prepared for the sarcasm to begin.

The stormy eyed scientist spoke first.

“Purah, Purah! Is that...a ghost I see? It looks like Adello, but I feel like I haven’t seen her in a century, I surely thought her dead! Am I being…haunted?”

Purah turned in her seat and gave a fake gasp. She adjusted her red rimmed glasses at the sight of her. “You’re right, Robbie! I’ve heard about these spirits. They only come at midnight under a full moon, and they appear when you have friends that don’t know how to time manage and haunt you by coming to your birthday party with their terrible fashion sense 45 minutes late!” She clapped her hands along with the syllables of “45 minutes” to let her point be known.

Robbie awed at Adello in sarcastic wonder, and the boy across from him exhaled out of his nose with a smile.

Adello put a hand on her hip. “Save your breath, I was just working a bit overtime on the Divine Beast sketches. You know, work? For the jobs that we all have? So we can pay our taxes and shit? Unfortunately, not all of us have fancy salaries Mrs. Royal Scientist.”

Purah turned to Robbie, pulling down her glasses and looking at him sternly. “See, this is another trait of these kinds of spirits. They’re cursed to only say excuses for eternity.”

He shook his head. “Coupled with the fact that their fashion only ever consists of one color? Truly, a terrible fate for a ghost indeed.”

Adello narrowed her eyes. Smoothing out her juniper colored tunic, she said, “Okay, first off, green is a great color on me, it pairs well with my skin tone. You’re both just blind, no wonder you need glasses.” Purah put a hand on her chest dramatically, but she continued. “Plus, I’d really rather not get fired since that ceremony thing with those Champions is tomorrow and, as you all know, I just got that promotion.”

The researcher propped a black leather boot up on the empty chair by the table, flipping her jet black hair dramatically. “How does it feel to be in the presence of someone with an actual on-the-field career?”

Purah stuck out her tongue, and Robbie cupped his hands and booed. However, the boy sitting on the other side of the fourseated table gave a celebratory strum of his lute, giving Adello’s pose a bright background flourish with a few upbeat chords.

She winked. “Thank you Zimiri, at least someone can recognize skill.” The bard gave a little bow with his head, grinning. “A few chords is all it takes to enhance a dramatic, late night entrance.”

Adello chuckled, finally sitting down in the empty seat beside him. The old oaken chair and floor creaked under the new weight. Robbie let out a huff.

“You kids need to learn to respect your elders.” He announced the word “respect” with the tip of his tongue. The researcher rolled her eyes.

“Ah yes, a whole one year gap between us. What astounding age and experience that these elders emit.” She gestured at Robbie and Purah with a sweep of her arm.

“Uh, excuse me, but I believe in my case it’s now double that. A whole two years, my dear, naive child. For as of 4 hours ago, I now emit the knowledge of an existence spanning two decades!” Now it was his turn to pose dramatically, pointing towards the ceiling.

Everyone at the table groaned, turning to occupy themselves with something else. Purah started writing in her journal which she pulled out from her satchel, and Adello started to become very interested with the ceiling. Zimiri continued to pluck nothings on his lute.

Robbies crossed his arms, his white long sleeves folding across the Sheikah red shirt underneath. “Oh I see! So when Adello brags, she gets a musical accompaniment, but when I do it, it’s suddenly annoying and embarrassing?”

Adello smirked to herself, and answered, “Yep, that’s how it goes!”

“Alright, you don’t get to speak, Miss I-don’t-know-how-to-be-punctuation!”

Purah promptly smacked Robbie over the head with a pen.

“Hey! W—”

“The word is punctual, you idiot.”

Robbie slumped his shoulders and made a face. He tapped his thumb and fingers together, mimicking the opening and closing of a mouth while he muttered mockingly in Purah’s tone under his breath.

Purah finished off a note in her journal before turning to the rest of the table. “Alright Adello, time to catch up. We’ve been playing ‘Till You Spill and I’ve already got some juicy stuff in here!”

Turning the pages of her journal towards Adello, she gave a chaotic grin. “Last round, Zimiri revealed that he once got teary eyed in front of the King himself after reading a poem about clouds.”

Zimiri raised his hands in defense. “Look, the clouds were an analogy for lost childhood innocence and I got choked up with that author’s amazing choice of imagery and descriptions, okay?”

Purah pointed her pen at him to hush, and continued. “Of course, him being a sentimental dork isn’t anything new, so he lost that round to Robbie who revealed the identity of his first crush.”

Zimiri muttered something about the game being rigged towards the birthday boy, but Adello talked over him, excitedly.

“Ooohhhh? Robbie?? Who are they?” She propped up her elbows and cradled her chin in her hands, excited at the prospect of more embarrassing information she could hang over his head.

He mumbled, looking to Purah for assistance, but she only cupped a hand over her ear, waiting for him to respond. “You all fuckin—” he sighed, “it’s…she’s…c-ch…” he avoided everyone’s gaze, “her name is...Cherry…”

Adello gasped, gleefully. “That girl from your old university?? The writer you hung out with!?”

Purah beamed, shaking Robbie’s shoulders excitedly. “I know right???” She loosened her grip and allowed him to wiggle out of her grasp for a moment. “Oh sweetie, campus days may be long gone for all of us prodigies and geniuses,” she flipped a few strands of her white hair with a turn of her head, “but I’m sure you’ll get her someday. You just gotta turn up the charm, find a way to woo with words. I’m sure writers love that.” Purah pulled down her glasses and gave a forced wink at him.

Adello tried to hold her tongue to no avail. “Pffft. Yeah, you can try wooing her with your punctuation.” This got a snicker out of Purah, and caused the birthday boy to blush furiously and slump further in his seat. Zimiri finally spoke up.

“Now, now, let’s all play nice. We don’t need to pester him further about it, he did win the round after all.”

“Uh, yeah. Speaking of the game, you still need to drink up, mister.” Purah slid a tan brown cup of apple cider towards him, the translucent contents sloshing around like muck in a gutter.

He leaned on the back two legs of his chair. “Isn’t it punishment enough to smell it? The cider isn’t even near my face and my mouth is already burning.”

She shrugged. “Them's the rules of ‘Till You Spill. Your secret sucked, so swig!”

The poet groaned, but complied. Tipping the cup towards his lips, Zimiri took a hearty slurp of the cider, much to everyone’s amusement. It felt like hot, molten copper mixed with old apple skins. How could something both burn and freeze your throat at the same time? He let out a gag, to which Adello patted him on the back with a short laugh.

Raising his posture, Robbie crowed, “When we finally have Zimiri’s birthday maybe then we’ll actually upgrade to the alcohol.”

Adello raised an eyebrow. “Uh, right, because the upgrade from disorientingly strong, smelly apple cider, is you two being flat out drunk. Right...”

Purah slammed both her fists down with pride, letting the cups and pitchers slosh a few amber colored drops onto the worn wooden table. “Bold of you to assume I’d drink at all, considering I’ve never lost a round! Mwahaha!” She blew a raspberry at her. “This tongue is apple free, baby.”

She gestured with her pinky and index finger at Zimiri and Adello. “Now, you two! The late combatant and the latest loser shall spill next. Give us your juicy gossip!!”

The bard, still reeling from his drink, leaned back in his chair and gave a nod toward Adello. “Ladies first?”

While she wasn’t undefeated in this drinking game, she sure as hell was playing to win. Especially since somebody needed to knock that smug expression off of Purah’s face. Adello thought to herself quickly.

Zimiri, no doubt, is probably gonna say something self-deprecating again, as he’s too nice to actually reveal anything embarrassing about anyone else. So...I just need to say something unexpected and interesting...perhaps something embarrassing about...hmm, I’ve already exhausted all my info about those cushy nobles and guards in past rounds…

Suddenly, she snapped her fingers. “The princess has a secret stuffed animal collection.” Seeing the light in her co-workers’ eyes twinkle, Adello knew she had chosen her words well. Purah leaned in. “Ooh? And how did you come across this juicy piece of information?” She rested her chin on an arm with an innocent smile.

“When I sent my application for the new job a few weeks ago, I gave it to the princess directly. It was late at night, and I bumped into her as she just left her room. The door was cracked open for a few seconds, before some royal, pompous guard slammed it right in my face. Yet, it wasn’t before I saw the pile of,” she counted on her fingers, “cow, sheep, bird, dog, and several horse stuffed animals piled high by her big, blue bed. I bet if I peeked for just a few more moments I could have found enough to pin her as a true horse girl.”

Robbie shrugged his shoulders, unconsciously rapping the table with his finger. “Well, speaking as a horse guy myself, I can attest to the fact that the childhood horse obsession phase never leaves, so I find Princess Zelda’s collection quite admirable.” He gave a nod towards Zimiri. “Either way, it’ll be tough to top that, Zim. Cute, yet slightly concerning, fact about our future queen? Quite the competition. Shall I signal the waiter for a refill now?”

Zimiri plucked a few more strings from his lute, before finally setting it down on the floor. He tilted his head, playfully. The string with sage green beads seemed to sway with the tavern’s music, and he spoke with a glint in his eyes. “Well, I might be faced with impending failure and ultimate defeat, but hells if I’m not one to try instead of mope.”

He combed his fingers through his messy, white hair, pondering his next choice of words. Fiddling with the beads and strings wrapped around it, he thought out loud.

“Let’s see...to top out on an embarrassing fact about a respected princess...it's natural to combat it with something...personal? That always seems to be the more valuable information in this game…” Adello shook her head. He was playing right into her hand.

“Well...Robbie won last round with the identity of Cherry...so, how about I dish out something similar. See, I’ve...uh…” he rubbed the back of his neck, “Oh! Well. Court poet, shrine researcher, the job gets you close with the princess...kinda...I’d like to think we’re close anyhow…” He mumbled the last part of his sentence and let out a short cough. Then, he went back to fiddling with his short, messy hair.

“So… ever since I moved into the castle, When did my mom move… five years now? I’ve, uh… had a crush on... Zelda…” He gave an uncertain grin, and raised the palm of his hands as if to ask, “well?”

At first he was met with silence. In his head, he started to celebrate the victory of his first ‘Till You Spill round in literal months. That was until he was met with groans and pitiful mutters.

“Oh Zimiri,” Purah sighed, “I was rooting for you too.” Seeing the bewilderment creep onto the poet’s face, Robbie answered the question before it even escaped his lips. “Literally everyone here knew that bud, it’s not a secret.”

The bard started to sputter, moving his hands in wild, questioning motions.

“But? Wha— I? You!? Didn’t you— I… W-Well I mean, I know Adello knew, I told her years ago, but you guys—”

“Oh my gods. Zimiri, you literally talk about her all the time, you’re totally in love. Given that we’re also the recipients of your long spiels and ballads about how ‘intelligent and thoughtful and amazing Zelda is,’” Purah said the words to mimic the tone of Zimiri’s honey sweet voice, “it’s exceptionally, extremely, very, very obvious.”

“R-Recognizing a person’s positive traits doesn’t instantly mean in love!”

The royal scientist leaned across the table and patted his head. “Right, but you also started attempting love songs a coincidental 2 weeks after starting your job of shrine research with her. Your eyes are already red, so whenever she passes by it’s like your pupils magically form into adoring hearts. Try to stay away from poker, it’s for your own good.”

Zimiri continued to sputter, his cheeks becoming roser by the second. Robbie turned to Purah. “So, all in favour of finding Adello’s spill better than Zimiri’s?” The two of them raised their hands in unison. “Alright buddy, secret sucked, so swig! WAITER PLEASE!”

Adello watched as the same woman she had seen near the bar earlier made her way to the table. Picking up a pitcher, she poured out a fresh cup of Adequate’s Apple Cider. The four of them had been here so many times, they didn’t even need to verbally ask for the order.

Before he could even start to reach for the cup, Adello snatched it out of the way. “Nah, it’s okay. I’ll do one for you, Zimiri. These two monsters have already tore you to shreds, and I’m sure I need a punishment anyway for coming in so late.”

He started to protest, but after catching the look in her dark, iron eyes, he relented. “Well, I thank you for your generosity.” The other two, however, were not as compliant.

Purah cupped her hands around her mouth, yelling, “Booooo... Boo to pity! Boo to generosity!” Robbie mimicked her.

“Yeah you have to respect your elders’ wishes. We demand blood! Suffering!”

Adello cracked her neck for show, before downing her glass of cider in a few gulps. The stench and tingling sensation seemed to stick to the sides of her throat. It would take more than water to clear that out. “Adequate” was being very generous when describing its quality.

“Mmmm. The cider’s weirdly salty tonight, I think your attitudes got mixed in here.”

Purah blew another raspberry at her.

They played for a few more rounds, the clatter of cups and breaths of laughter decorating the hours. Much to everyone’s distaste, Purah continued her winning streak, getting by with unbeatable information about the King, royal guards, and one embarrassing anecdote about how her little sister, Impa, had caught her writing an interesting letter to the “local archery hunk.”

Yet, Purah laughed along with the rest of them, the eyes behind her red rimmed glasses held no shame, which Adello envied. Of course that sort of attitude would make you a master at this game. Robbie and Adello attempted to team up and be biased towards Purah in an effort to get her to lose, but either Zimiri didn’t take the hint, or he just really liked playing fair which wasn’t exactly out of character, even if it meant more drinks for him.

Suddenly, a bell towards the back of the pub rang, signifying the end of the band’s gig. The dancing paused, as people gave their thanks, varying from politie applause to drunken yelps. Robbie then rapped the table with his hands, excitedly.

“You know what else tonight needs? Some amazing music, eh Zimiri?” He bounced his eyebrows up and down at him, and gestured towards the lute leaning on one of the table legs.

“I don’t know,” Zimiri replied, “I’ve only a part-time hire for the weekend rush hours, and I wouldn’t want to blindly get on stage and sing without being given permission.”

Adello scoffed. “Uh, are you kidding? The owner would love for you to play without paying you. Haven’t you heard the talk around town? The Adequate’s Tavern: Home of alright food and acceptable ale, but an outstanding bard!”

He fiddled with the string in his hair again. “Oh yeah? I’d love to meet him someday.” At this, Adello clicked her tongue and promptly shoved him out of his chair with her hip.

He laughed to himself as he stumbled aback. “Alright, alright, but only because the birthday tyrant requested it.” Robbie clapped his hands in a “chop-chop” fashion, to truly signify his role as the newly dubbed tyrant.

Suddenly, Zimiri perked his head. Stepping back towards the table, he reached for his cup. “Oh wait, I just lost that round. I still need to drink my—”

Adello grabbed the cup right out of his hands. She tipped it 180 degrees and let the cider spill completely onto the wooden floor. He hopped back, and Purah let out a surprised yelp, saying something about letting the stench seep into the floorboards. Robbie just started to laugh, wildly. Noticing the small commotion, a few other guests looked back at them and started to snicker to themselves.

Setting the cup back on the table, the researcher said, “Great, now you don’t need to ruin your voice any longer. Now get up there and one-up the last band.”

The bard pushed his chair under the table. Picking up his lute as he stood and faced Adello, a charming smile on his face. “Heh, well. My singing voice is grateful. I suppose now I’m in debt to comply.” He gave a curt bow.

Robbie clapped his hands again. “Great, great. Now quit the manners and let’s go already! I still have to order the cake pie!”

Both of the girls rolled their eyes in unison. Zimiri shrugged and started to walk through the small crowd of standing Hylians, and towards the small stage.

A few of the regulars who recognized him let out whoops and whistles, yelling out “Bard!” or “More music!” in support. It seemed that no one really knew his name, but it was nice enough to know that even working here part time would grant you the honor of being recognized by a bunch of random folk. One confused patron, who only associated him with “z” yelled out “Yeah, Zelda!” before promptly slumping under the table. Looking around, a blonde girl caught his eye, as it seemed she was staring at him. He waved, and her cheeks, much to Zimiri’s confusion, turned pink at his gaze and she turned to her friends who started giggling.

Moving past the last of the Hylians with an, “excuse me, sorry!” he finally stepped on the stage. The bard pulled up a small stool to the stage, leaning against it. Most of the folks continued to whoop in approval, seemingly eager for another chance to start dancing. Even the barkeep clapped his hands, probably excited at the thought of a free gig.

I guess, if no one is stopping me…

It was a rowdy bunch, but not a new one. Zimiri had played for these kinds of audiences before.

“I see that quite a few people are itching for a new tune. So, uh, any requests?” he announced as he strum a chord on his lute.

A mass of different voices bounced around the tavern, requests ranging from The Babbler’s Jig, Misko’s Tale, The Eldin Bluffs, and Can I Get More Ale? Although, Zimiri wasn’t quite familiar with the chords of that last song.

He couldn’t stop himself from being biased towards the request of a certain dark skinned girl to his left.

“The World Behind!” Adello said. “Enough with those new ballads, I demand a classic!”

Robbie pumped an arm in the air. “Yes!” he shouted. “I second that! So is my decree as birthday tyrant!”

The bard smiled, preparing the fingering on the neck of his lute. He turned towards the audience. “Well, I’m afraid I have no choice but to heed to such authority.” He began to pluck the beginning notes, tapping a tempo with his boot against the stage. “Now then, a beat, if you all would be so kind?”

The tavern chattered in approval, before piping down. There probably weren't more than 30 people, but the beat they made was definitely sufficient. The sound of stomping, banging mugs, and clapping filled the room. The tempo didn’t even need much adjusting, as The World Behind was pretty familiar around Castle Town. The beat was like a child pretending to be a marching soldier, unconcerned and playful.

Zimiri’s smile widened. A lively crowd indeed, this will do nicely.

With that, he started to sing. His silvery voice echoed across the tavern, as he closed his eyes and began to play.

The boys have gone out to the wishing well

Will they come back? Oh only time will tell

A rupee for a life refined

But time and dreams never align

So tell the world we’ll leave it all behind

Many of the guests had started to dance again, while the rest continued the beat of the song. As Zimiri plucked rapid notes on his lute, he heard a supporting holler from Purah. Next to her, Robbie was slamming his fist to the beat, clearly enjoying himself.

Have you seen the soldiers’ drinking ale?

They wish to sing along with nightingales

To dance on home with songs and rhymes

To banish all the fears from mind

Yes tell the world we’ll leave it all behind

Another pause between the verses, and the bard played the “decorative” rapid notes in between. He didn’t mean to seem like he was showing off, but Adello would attest to the fact that this happened whenever he got too into the music. Looking towards her, Zimiri saw her give a double thumbs up.

Of beasts and men and all atrocities

The damn-ed fate, she owns all that you see

To a better day of new design

Forgot about the gods divine

Oh tell the world we’ll leave it all behind

At this point, some of the guests were singing along, though not to the point of overpowering his own alluring voice. Laughter rang out around the warmly lit room once again. Zimiri looked out at the dancing patrons and smiling guests, grinning at the feeling in his chest this brought. He continued the last verse.

Watch the home while—

“HEY!”

The sudden gruff voice startled the bard to the point where he nearly slipped off the stage.

Lumbering through the double doors, three guards entered the tavern. The one in front, who had interrupted the music, wore a typical knight’s outfit, the same as his male and female coworkers behind him. However, the black hooded cape he wore atop his metal armour swayed with every step he took across the floor, his supposed rank silencing the room.

Well, mostly, silenced the room. A few ticked off guests were booing, groaning, and mocking him for ruining the entertainment.

“Oh would you lot shut up for 2 seconds?!” he said, his voice booming across the tavern. “Listen, I’ll be blunt. I gotta give two messages for this establishment.”

The guests shook their heads, mumbling. Their booing and insults continued, but their volume quieted, it was too early to be getting cross with a couple of knights. Even Zimiri quietly slipped off the stage back towards his friends so as not to be at the end of the knight’s intimidating voice.

The female guard behind the knight handed him a slip of parchment. Unfolding it, the guard cleared his throat.

“Firstly, your music and pounding is disturbing the noblemen next door. He’s staying at the inn or something and wants you to, quote,” he read from the paper, “quit the mindless thumping, for Castle Town is a place of serenity and peace, not of nonsense jigs and banging.”

The groaning and insults started up again; the man gave a shrug, stating something about how he was just following orders.

Adello couldn’t help but laugh out loud. “HA! Well, with an attitude like that, this’ll probably be the first and only time he’s been banged— he should be grateful.”

The room exploded into a mess of laughter and whoops. Even the guard smirked to himself, but attempted to hide it with a shake of his head, saying “Watch the mouth, girl.” Although, his stern tone wasn’t in it.

After a second, he cleared his throat again. With a stomp of his boot he regained the pub's attention, the laughter suffocated out.

“Now, we’re also here looking for a Dr. Robbie Kimura? I received word they might be around here?”

With the attention now towards a single table, most of the guests went back to their idle banter. A few waiters nodded their head towards the table in the back, and the man caught sight of three, white haired teenagers, who were sitting with the dark haired girl who had quipped out earlier.

The scientists turned around too late, in an effort to avoid the knight’s gaze. “Gee, what a bunch of snitches,” Robbie mumbled. The three guards started to walk over to the table.

“Dr...Robbie?”

“Who’s asking?” Robbie squinted with his dark brown eyes.

“Doctor? Really? Is this some kind of prank? You and your friends don’t even look old enough to drink.”

He scoffed. “Okay, first, yes I am a doctor! I didn’t fly through all those courses over four years just to be called, ‘Mr.’ And secondly, I’ll have you know that I am a ripe 20 years of age today, and I’m here drinking expired apple juice with my associates. So take that, pal!”

Beside him, Purah gave a proud nod in agreement. Zimiri started to wave politely at the guard, but Adello grabbed his arm before he could finish the movement. The guard was a bit unsettled with the way that girl was glaring at him. What was some random Hylian doing hanging out with a bunch of Sheikah anyway?

“Right, well, look here, son. Some curious aristo-brat snuck into the courtyard and caused one of those flying, metal Sheikah things to fall apart. My boss said that it was your prototype so you should come back and clean it up before something explodes, and possibly give a sincere apology to the meddling kid who got a few scratches.”

Robbie threw his hands in the air, exasperated. “You’re really gonna pull me out of a birthday just so I can go apologize to a spoiled kid for breaking in and ruining my Guardian?”

“If it lets me keep my job, then yeah.”

Robbie mumbled something about not getting a slice of the apple cake pie.

Suddenly, Adello got up and pushed her chair in, smoothing out the belt around her tunic as she walked towards them.

“Ah yes, well, thank you my dear assistant for the assessment but I’m capable of taking it from here.”

The guard raised a bushy, black eyebrow. “Sorry, wha—”

“You said you only wanted Dr. Robbie? Well great job, you found them. Now let’s get going, I need to finish up a new design anyway.”

“You’re...Robbie? You’re a... clearly not—”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I should have had my mother consult you for your opinion before I was given my name.”

This time, the guard didn’t smile along with her quip. “This is not the time for—”

She held up a finger to silence him, and glared at the three guards with her iron eyes.

“Look, I’m not a nobody. I’m more than capable of fixing up the guardian and any other disasters you might have left lying around the castle grounds. If I’m feeling generous, maybe I’ll even lick the kid’s boots, it’s not my first time dealing with this, alrighty?”

The knights looked at each other, quizzically. The researcher crossed her arms.

“You’re still following your precious orders, aren't you? How would you know what Dr. Robbie looks like? You can’t be faulted for not knowing someone you never met. So, you’ll just have to take my word for it.”

The blonde man behind the gruff, black caped guard, whispered something to his female coworker. Her gaze switched between the girl and the man. Still seeing the uncertainty in their eyes, Adello leaned closer to the knight and lowered her voice. “Come on, have a little heart, it’s his birthday.”

A beat of silence sat, only filled by the mild mumbling and chatter of the tavern. Finally, the guard let out a sigh.

“Alrighty Dr. Kimura. I’ll help escort you to the site.”

Robbie started to protest, but Adello quickly silenced him with a wink. The guard turned towards the rest of the room, yelling, “The rest of you, the sun is gonna rise in a few hours so save your rioting for then! Am I clear?”

The patrons just responded with stupid groans and half-hearted agreements. They started walking towards the door. The female guard started to put a hand on Adello’s shoulder, but she brushed it off, saying something along the lines of “I can walk on my own two feet, thank you very much.”

Purah turned in her seat. “I’ll save a slice of cake pie for you!” Adello turned her head and responded with a two fingered salute, before disappearing out the door with the guards.

The tension in the tavern was almost immediately cleared, the moment the knights left. Most of the people went back to their normal conversational volume, and the waiters began to patter about with more confidence. However, Zimiri slumped in his seat, letting out a sigh.

“Why does she always do things like that?”

Robbie fiddled with the edge of his cup, tracing his finger around the rim. “Well, you know her. Undermining authority? Check. Insults and quips? Check.”

Robbie continued to list off more traits, but it faded out of Zimiri’s ear. Always jumping onto other’s burdens. Ah, that idiot. I bet she hasn’t slept for the last two days.

Purah suddenly piped up, taking out her pen and rapping it against the table. “Alright you two, let’s not let the sacrifice be in vain. Pool your rupees, we’re getting Robbie the fancy cake pie.”

The clatter of a few red and blue rupees echoed on the wooden table, although Zimiri knocked Robbie’s share aside, saying how the birthday tyrant shouldn’t have to pitch in. Purah turned in her chair and started to wave her hand, in order to get the attention of a waiter. The bard watched as a woman with a tray started to walk over to the table. Then, he turned to Robbie.

“So what should we do while we wait?” Zimiri asked. Robbie stroked his chin, looking around the room.

“I think...the people could still use some music.”

Looking out at the crowd, Zimiri noticed how the guards' interference had really dampened the atmosphere. The warm and lively laughter that was present just a few moments earlier was now replaced with more monotone chatter.

He nodded his head in agreement, putting on a charming smile. The place needed a new pick-me-up, did it?

Well, what else is a bard for?

Stepping back onto the stage, he strummed an open chord, double checking the tuning. The whooping and clapping started to return, much to his delight. Plucking a familiar melody, the warm feeling in his stomach returned as he watched the new smiles that started to fill the room. However, before he began to sing, Zimiri first focused on craning his neck to look out a window, trying to catch a glimpse of a certain girl in the night.

It seemed the moon and sun were balanced on the edge of the world. The night had started to submerge behind the walls of West Castle Town, with only the brightest stars still perched upon the ink of the navy blue sky. The silver lining of greying clouds just barely glowed from the faint light of the day, still trying to break out of the eastern waters.

Adello’s footsteps echoed through the cobblestone streets, but she could barely hear it against the shifting of metal plates from the guards in front of her.

The gruff man looked back, scratching his peach fuzzed chin as he spoke. “Listen, if you finish your work quick I might be able to escort you back here.”

Adello shook her head. She turned to retrieve a journal from the pouch on her belt, opening its pages as an excuse to avoid his gaze. “No, it’s fine. I still have some more work I should be finishing up at home anyhow.”

“You...live at the castle?”

“Mmm.”

The guard took her blunt response as a sign to not continue with the niceties, much to Adello’s relief. Looking up, she gazed at the looming castle. Its towers were like mountain peaks, sitting above the blurred silhouettes of the buildings of Castle Town.

Taking out a bit of charcoal, she started to sketch its outline on a fresh page in her journal. While she only had one color, she tried to capture the shadows and lighting that cascaded on one side of the castle to the other.

The female guard slowed her step, starting to walk alongside the researcher.

“Already working?”

Adello didn’t look up from her journal. “Uh… you could say that.”

She laughed. “Well you best hope you know what you’re doing. This kid’s father has been yelling at Her Highness all night. Supposedly because she’s helping to lead Sheikah research, so everyone associated with guardians is at fault.”

Adello finished up the tower of Princess Zelda’s study in her sketch. She smiled to herself at the finished work. It was one of her better pieces. Putting the journal away, she turned back to the guard and scoffed. “Is that so?”

The guard hummed a yes, her blonde braid swaying to each side as she walked. “Apparently, the kid is the son of some visiting nobleman from the East Post. It’d be in your best interest to apologize profusely if you still wanna walk around alive.”

Adello shook her head. She didn’t know it then, but looking back, many moons from now, she would laugh at the irony of her response.

“I’d rather die.”

#botw #breath of the wild #legend of zelda botw #loz botw #botw fanfiction #where time takes us #botw oc #adello #zimiri

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natsubeatsrock · 4 years ago

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The Rewrite of Fairy Tail: Part 25 (Ultear)

Was Last Ages a good idea?

Part of me wants to say that the answer is yes considering Opening 16 having my favorite visuals of any Fairy Tail opening. The clock twitch at the start is one of my personal favorite aspects of the opening and it wouldn't be there if Last Ages didn't happen.

Of course, pedantic issues like that aren't enough to blind me to the weight of what I'm advocating. Ultear is one of my favorite characters in the series. I wouldn't suggest essentially writing out one of my favorites if it didn't need to happen.

But that's just it. Did it need to happen? (Don’t worry, we’ll get to talk about Ultear as a character.)

A good place to start is its place in the Grand Magic Games arc. The reason it needed to happen, as the story goes, is that multiple people need to be saved from situations and the difference of one minute, while also remembering what happened in the alternate minute, was enough to save the lives of multiple people. Most notably, Lucy was able to avoid being killed and Gray wasn't impaled by multiple dragons. It's framed as a sacrifice that caused other people to live.

At the risk of sounding callous, I'm not sure this was really all that much of a concern. For all the people who did get affected by the spell Last Ages, there is one important person who wasn't: Natsu. As sad as it might be to consider our favorite characters dying it wasn't like their actions stopped the Eclipse Gate even after Last Ages. Lucy knew how to stop the Gate, but she didn't destroy it. Neither did Gray, Juvia, Lyon, Meredy, Baccus, Romeo, Macao, Wakaba, Cobra, Gajeel, Wendy, Laxus, or anyone else whose name isn't Natsu Dragneel. It would have been tragic, but the result would have been similar. (An interesting "what if" scenario I may or may not consider.)

And consider the scale of the event in the arc. The entire world was set back by one minute. It's described as innocuous enough that it was barely noticed by most people. Of course, this is juxtaposed with how important it meant to the actual people at the moment. However, consider what that means for the majority of people in the universe. Ultear could have done nothing and it would have as much of an effect for the people within the series universe.

This is, of course, not to say that Ultear's sacrifice didn't matter past Grand Magic Games. This is to say that the idea that this sacrifice changed a lot isn't as true as Mashima would have us believe and that there might not have been much of a need to have Ultear get basically written out of the series.

After using Last Ages, Ultear becomes a part of the time stream, showing up at times when it gets messed up. (At least, that's the explanation I'm going with.) She makes two as her younger self in this form. We obviously need to talk about (read: you're going to read my interpretation of) these moments. But, I want to start with the second moment first and you'll see why.

The second meeting was Ultear's appearance during Wendy and Chelia's fight with DiMaria. Now, there are issues with their interaction in regards to the Third Origin, but that's for other reasons. This wouldn't necessarily be impossible if Last Ages didn't happen. After all, she's doing this in conjunction with the rest of Crime Sorciere. The only reason this comes off as shocking is exactly what she went through Last Ages. As long as they show up and Ultear remains a member, there's no reason for she shouldn't be in the fight. Heck, we may have gotten interactions between her and Gray.

And, with that totally non-bitter transition (I'm actually okay with that), let's talk about the meeting between Gray and Ultear during the Sun Village arc. This is part of a trend wherein Ultear, either implicitly or explicitly, serves as a reminder for the fact that you shouldn't sacrifice your life to save other people, even if you love them. Her sacrifice reminds Gray that he ought to continue living on for other people.

But, and I again recognize this does sound callous, that's stupid.

I mean, it's exactly the kind of message he ought to keep with him, especially in those moments. But, I'm not sure that this is a point that ought to be beating in the ground as much as it was, especially to the point it was in the way it was. In Gray's specific context, it makes symbolic sense that he is saved by her. But, shouldn't Gray already know that from as far back after Galuna Island?

It could be argued that Gray needs to have these lessons reinforced multiple times through his journey as they clearly haven’t sunken in. To a degree, I understand that as a realistic portrayal of depression. But, what happened to “I will seal your darkness away”? Isn’t it possible to have him remember that instead of Ultear sacrificing herself?

And that gets to another thing. What does this mean for Ultear's character? Much of the reason that she's willing to do this at all is that she believes that she is a terrible person at heart and can't make up for what she's done over the years. Therefore, she wants to use her life force to help other people's lives.

I don't think that is in and of itself a terrible motivation for an action like this from a reformed villain who thinks the way Ultear seemed to. I don't even think that she's entirely wrong to think so, considering she wanted to kill present Rogue to stop future Rogue. I could even understand our hypothetical character going through with his or her choice and going on to save a large number of lives, as Last Ages does.

However, this is a Mashima villain. He's stated in the past that he likes to make villains that are more than just evil. While we can talk about how he did with that goal, this feels like something uncharacteristic of his villains.

And even if he wasn't open about his penchant to redeem villains, we'd absolutely know something is up. Jellal was in a similar spot during Nirvana - ashamed of his existence and ready to die - but he ended up being a better (not sure good is the right word) person. Meredy was convinced to become good and even was part of the reason Ultear started to want to change. Flare changes during the Grand Magic Games arc into Sun Village arc. Sabertooth becomes a good guild (not that they should have been evil anyway). A lot of Alvarez Empire arc involves Brandish's struggle of doing good and/or evil and Irene realizes she actually loved Erza before stabbing herself. Oracion Seis joins Jellal in Crime Sorciere (under duress).

In a sense, Last Ages is Mashima's way of saying, "This one's staying evil. They can't change." In another series with another writer, that wouldn't be annoying. With Fairy Tail, this is clearly purposeful. My job isn't necessarily to speculate as to why, but I can't think why that would make sense to him except that it makes the parallel to Ur for Gray. In a world where she doesn't come back to relevancy in the final arc, I might be to accept that as fine. Considering she did come back and that the continued relevance of Crime Sorciere past the Grand Magic Games, it’s not as if I can’t do things with her character if she were to stay alive.

Therefore, I'm actually going against canon in this regard. In the rewrite, Ultear wants to go through with the spell Last Ages but is prevented from doing so. (I’m debating who stops her.) With this, Ultear continues to be an active character during the series. What the circumstances are surrounding her not going through with it and what she does now that she's a part of the series are topics worth talking about. However, I'd like to save those for another time.

For now, though, I feel that it's worth mentioning is that not every villain has to be saved or redeemed. I'm not here to argue that every villain is equally deserving of a second chance, even though I absolutely believe such to be true on some level. Some villains will and should stay evil until the end. But if Jellal is going to struggle to do the right thing, I think Ultear should try to as well.

#fairy tail #the rewrite of fairy tail #ultear milkovich #part 25 #fun fact #this was one of the eariler drafts #i wrote this close to the same time #i wrote the piece on lisanna #that was around the time i realized #i really am going to be rewriting this series huh?#also i'm here before halloween #like i said i would #out of series follow-up to come

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zwiezraczek · 5 years ago

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Hi! It's me again; the fully angsty Billy loving anon with a new request! She/Her 16 Billy (and usual) The ghosts takes Y/N as hostage for a mission to hit bad guys nr. Something + get info. Things goes sideways when Y/N actually knows Four before he "died". Y/N's not so happy about the truth. Or something like that~ Btw, can I be 🐼-anon, so you know it's me? 😊

Liar [Blurb]

16. “This wasn’t planned at all.” // You are the Ghost’s hostage for mission purpose, but you find out that the one they call Four is Billy, your bestfriend…

Part 2: Believer

~~~

You couldn’t breathe, every breath you tried to take became painful as a bag covered your whole face. Who the fuck tried to do that, to you? Whoever they were, they were screwed. Screwed because you were the daughter, the one and only daughter, of the most important man at the moment. And maybe his assistant, but that was secondary.

Your father always told you to have bodyguards by your side, for safety reasons, and you always refused. Now, you wished you hadn’t. How stubborn you were, how stupid you were thinking that you could get away with these three people – way more trained than you were, probably hitmen – as you came back home from a party. Your head was about to explode, you were almost breathless as you heard voices all around you, confused voices, blurred voices, some lights hitting your face from outside you guessed, as you were hunched up in trunk.

“Is she alive,” the voice of a man asked, you could barely hear him but you were sure he had a Hispanic accent. Fuck, they absolutely drugged you after putting your head into that stupid bag.

“She’s sleeping,” a woman’s voice replied – wrong honey. “She should wake up in a few hours, until then I’ll watch her medical status.” Medical what, you thought. This explained the dizziness you had, not that you hadn’t figured out that your head in a bag was a bad thing, but the drugs things explained a lot. Maybe too much. Paired with alcohol? You’d be asleep for a few hours for sure… But not now. You tried to keep your eyes open, to listen to the voices.

“She’s a pain in the ass,” a woman with a strong French accent commented and you couldn’t agree more. “I hope that One knows what he’s doing, because her father will either give us what we want or try to kill us.” And she was smart, you already liked her, as much as you could like the ones taking you as a hostage of course. No Stockholm syndrome, your father mentioned that to you.

“One knows what he does,” the other woman replied, you felt her touch on your neck, first searching for it and then looking if you were still breathing. “At least I hope he does.”

Whoever this One was, he better watched out because once you weren’t under the influence of alcohol and drugs you would be a true pain in the ass, as the French woman said. You fought strongly, your eyes closing slowly, the voices becoming distant, you were sleepy and then, suddenly, you fell asleep.

~~~

The light, the fucking light. They dared to put you under a lamp, casting its light on your eyes. Bastards. They took off your bag, and you began to wriggle, wanting to get up and kick their asses. Blinded by the light, of course, what a genius you were. But they secured your arms and feet, your whole body under ropes, a powerful anesthetic the ropes, truly. You began to blink, helplessly, trying to avoid the light, and at the same time wantingto see who the people around you were. You could tell by the smell that you were in the middle of some abandoned place, a place where your father could have taken a hostage too. They were more clever than you thought. Your lips weren’t dry, and somehow you were thankful for that little attention, not a luxurious hotel but at least you could talk properly and save your saliva for your cries.

“Who the fuck are you,” your voice blasted in the room as you heard a thump, the person probably not expecting you to yell like this. You seemed pretty fragile, pretty thin and pretty inoffensive, but your mouth? Sharper than a blade. “My father will hear about this…!”

“She’s playing Malfoy,” a mocking man’s voice said, as you could see a silhouette near you. He turned off the light. Still blinded, great. Slowly, as your eyes were accustoming to the lighting, you detailed his face, a motherfucker. Nothing else. “So lovely, you will help us with your father, right? Or you’ll join Voldemort’s side?”

“Fuck, you,” you replied, blinking again, wanting to spit, but as you previously thought: saliva to talk not to waste.

“Stop toying with her,” the woman’s voice with the French accent said. The only one to be sensible here, didn’t seem difficult. “Ask her questions or let me do it,” she impatiently continued as you heard heels hit the floor. Dirty floor, the heels were actually difficult to be heard.

“Relax Bond, I got this,” the man reassured her before you burst into laughter.

“You got nothing, you’ll have nothing and you are fucking screwed,” you finally said, as he strangely looked at you. Now, you could see his face perfectly, a man in his forties, beard, not too muscular… You would remember that face for sure. Next to him, the French woman, you assumed, with her blond hair falling in her shoulders as she looked at you, with a knowing look. Not her first interrogatory, for sure. “I’ll Malfoy you as much as I wish because I know that you’re on the loser’s spot.”

“Not so fast, young lady,” the man said, waving his index in front of your eyes. How much you wanted to bite this index. “You’re here, doesn’t really matter where, as our guest, I won't say hostage, it seems pretty…”

“Barbaric,” you completed, coldhearted.

“Barbaric, exactly! You’re pretty smart, sadly you can’t join us,” he complained. “Whatever, you’ll stay here until either your dear father will do as we want, or until you’ll spill the beans.”

“The tea,” a familiar voice corrected in the background, “we say spill the tea.”

“Four, you see, I’m in the middle of something right here,” the man complained, turning back to face “Four”.

“Wanker,” you said, looking at the ceiling right now, “I fucking won’t speak and will watch you die when my father’s men will come and kill you all, one by one before ripping your hea…Billy?” You almost got a heart attack.

“Y/n,” the blond man blurted, surprised as he went closer.

“This wasn’t planned at all,” the forty years old man next to you whispered, putting his hand on Billy’s shoulder.

Billy. But… He died, three years ago. He went out chasing after a fucking necklace or whatever, a girl saved the necklace and not him – and got a bullet straight into her head, your job, neat job. Your father was furious when he heard that you killed that girl, his second most precious thief, but you didn’t care: she let your bestfriend die. She chose the mission, and left a man behind. You cried your eyes out during several days, your bestfriend was dead, and no necklace could repair the shit going along with it. The depressive state, the clouds in your mind, the will to revenge him: you became violent, you went on missions your father didn’t want you to, you held a gun – sadly not when the kidnapped you – and you shot people. Just for the sake of killing. Just to get some relief.

But Billy… He wasn’t dead, he stood right here, in front of your eyes. You couldn’t mistake him for anybody else, he called you by your name. You wanted to punch him in the face, you wanted to scream at him, you wanted to fucking hug him. You wanted to know that it was your Billy.

“Why”, were the only words you could whisper, as his eyes met yours. You felt anger, rage, despair, you felt it all.

“You… Don’t have to know,” he concluded, before turning back, to flee this room, this basement.

“You fucking coward, you made me suffer, you made me cry and now you tell me that I don’t have to know,” you cried out. “I have the fucking right to know!”

“Okay people, let’s not have this conversation right now,” the man next to you stated as you gave him a death glare.

“If he doesn’t speak to me, I’ll fucking refuse to give you any information. Any. And so will my father.” These were the words that made Billy froze, and the man next to you but you didn't give a fuck about that. “If you want to know things, he’ll have to fucking speak with me.”

“Deal.”

~~~

The room was silent, only the two of you. Billy refusing to look you right in the eyes, as you looked at him. You felt anger in your whole body, the ropes against your skin helping you to remain calm. But still, everything was so… Strange. Your bestfriend, the one you trusted, who was gone, was in fact alive and trying to kidnap you – basically he wasn’t but his crew was.

“You should fucking apologize.”

“What,” he said, looking at you now.

“I killed that girl when she went back telling that she let you die, I cried at your funeral to the fucking point of not being able to stay there until the fucking end, I killed fucking people because I was enraged because I lost my fucking bestfriend. The least you can do is fucking apologize.”

“Since when you’re swearing so much,” he remarked.

“Fuck you,” you replied. “Apologize, you wanker.”

“I’m… Sorry. I didn’t know they would bring you here.”

“No shit.”

“Listen, y/n, the things are much more complicated than you think…”

“You have the leisure to explain me what the fuck is going on here,” you retorted, looking into his eyes.

“Where do I begin…”

#this request was absolutely great i mean i truly enjoyed creating y/n here and the whole background!#that was so pleasant thank you 🐼#ben hardy #four x reader #four!ben #four/billy #four ben hardy #ben hardy four #6 underground ben hardy #6 underground #six underground ben hardy #six underground #ben hardy imagine #ben hardy blurbs #blurb

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