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atlabeth · 3 years ago

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nightmares - mike munroe x reader

summary: It was a deal made by two almost-friends in the early hours of the morning after the worst night of their lives, when they realized that all they really had left was each other.

a/n: so this is once again. not my normal content but ive been on an until dawn kick lately and fell in love w the characters all over again. i dont know if anyone still reads or writes for this fandom but. here u go. enjoy

warning(s): lots of cursing, canon typical violence, mentions of graphic violence/death (but nothing too descriptive), mentioned depression, insomnia, and alcoholism, some heavy themes but its hurt/comfort so it ends in fluff

wc: 4.8k

You were running.

You were running, and it was freezing — fuck, it was freezing.

You knew your surroundings; how could you ever forget? Every fucking moment on the goddamn mountain was engraved into your mind for what you assumed would be the rest of your life, an assumption that had since been proven correct.

And now, against your will, you were back. Of course you were back.

A shudder ran through your whole body as that all-too-familiar screech rang out behind you, each second of it like nails on a chalkboard in the worst way. Your lungs burned like all hell but you couldn’t stop — if you stopped, you were as good as dead.

Some part of this fucked up thing was almost funny. Humans were always boasting about how they were the top of the food chain, how they were the height of evolution. There was nothing to keep an ego in check like being hunted by a supernatural creature.

Any thoughts of bullshit philosophy were dashed from your mind as you took a hard right, nearly falling over from the sharp curve of the mountain but just able to catch yourself. Your heart was thundering in your chest, the beats nearly lining up with your sprinting. You felt an intense urge to turn around, try and gauge your chances, but the thought of slowing down for even a second terrified you. It’s not like you needed to anyways — you knew exactly what was after you.

You were nearing the end of your road, both literally and figuratively. You stumbled over a tree root, your hands splayed out in front of yourself at just the right angle to keep your momentum going and, in some feat of luck, stay upright and running.

But your luck had just run out.

Your senses were proven correct as the harrowing cliff edge came into view, and a thousand things screamed in your mind at once as your demise stared you right in the eye. You barely managed to catch yourself, very much aware that the snow falling into the void could’ve just as well been you.

That fucking screech again, even closer than before, and you whipped around as you took an instinctive step back. Your hands patted around everywhere, searching for something to defend yourself, but you had nothing. No gun, knife, even the ground around you was devoid of rocks.

You had nothing. You had nothing to defend yourself from this goddamn nightmare creature, and you were going to die.

Your eyes darted around wildly in an attempt to find something, anything, to save yourself, but there was nothing. You took another step back and felt your foot slip, your breath catching as you barely managed to save yourself with a twist and a lunge away from the edge. The shock of the ground and the cold against your skin was just enough to remind yourself that you were actually alive. Another pile of snow mimicked the fate that seemed imminent as it trickled over the side of the cliff, and you screwed your eyes shut as you tried to shut your mind up.

Think, goddammit, if you wanted to get off of this fucking mountain you had to think—

The screech that pierced through the night sky was far too close for comfort, and as your head snapped back towards the woods you swore that your heart stopped beating.

It had caught up. You were out of time you were going to die but you didn’t have anything and you were going to fucking die—

A flash of white pushed off a tree and lunged towards you, teeth bared as it emitted that horrible screech. You didn’t even have time to scream, completely frozen in place as one clawed hand reached your neck, and you braced for the moment of release.

You shot up in your bed, breathing rapid and unsteady with a barely contained cry on the edge of your lips as your hand instinctively flew to your neck. You heaved an almost strangled sigh of relief to know that your head was still attached to your body (it might’ve seemed obvious, but… your head wasn’t exactly on straight at the moment, all jokes aside) and collapsed against the headboard.

You ran your hands across your face as you tried in vain to calm yourself down, ultimately having to turn on your lamp to ease your troubled mind that there was nothing going thump in the night.

It had been this same routine almost every night — horrible nightmare, wake up crying or screaming or both, and start the day at 3 am because you couldn’t fall back asleep.

It was exhausting. You were exhausted.

You knew you couldn’t go on like this, but what choice did you have? Therapy had been mandated by the police for a certain amount of time after the incident, but… it’s not like it had helped. How could it, when no one truly knew what you had gone through?

Well… that wasn’t completely accurate.

One person knew what you were going through, and you hadn’t said as much as one word to him since that night. You didn’t really… know what to say.

Hey. I know we’re not all that close, but I’m sorry your girlfriend and all your friends were killed by a Wendigo and that I made it instead. Hope you’re not going insane with grief. I’ll send you a card at Christmas!

...yeah. You had no idea what to say to him after months of no contact.

The relationship you had with Mike Munroe was a strange one, to say the least.

None of you were the same after that night on the mountain. The horrors of the mines would be forever entrenched in your head, flashes of the Wendigos appearing every time you closed your eyes. You and Mike were the only ones who made it off, and the guilt you carried everywhere was a burden you knew you couldn’t shoulder. And even after the physical scars had faded, you knew the mental ones never would.

Sometimes you wondered how you had even managed to get involved with the group in the first place — bonds that had been made in your freshman and sophomore years had somehow managed to stay strong enough throughout the rest of high school, strong enough to cement your spot in the friend group and the yearly lodge visits. You liked them all well enough, enough to go up to an isolated mountain with them for a weekend or so, but… yeah. Sometimes you did wonder what the hell you were doing with them.

But now?

Now, you would give almost anything to hear Sam’s laugh or one of her compliments, or tease Ashley and Chris about their very obvious feelings; hell, you found yourself missing Matt’s useless football facts. And even though Emily and Jessica weren’t always the nicest, you still had managed to worm your way into their hearts. Knowing that you would never get Emily’s brutal but helpful advice or get dragged to a football game by Jessica again?

If someone had told you the difference between life-long trauma and a completely normal existence was that blonde girl with the braids in your biology class, you might’ve thought a little harder before accepting that party invite.

The days after you were rescued from the mountain passed in a daze, questions and interrogations from police never sticking for too long. And it didn’t even feel like it mattered, the way none of them seemed to believe you.

They kept you separated from Mike throughout the whole process, and you were only able to catch glances of him when you were being transferred to different rooms throughout the long process. It really was like something out of a horror movie — a group of teens go up to a lodge in the woods, and only two return with a story of unspeakable horrors — and rather than try and work out what had happened, they seemed intent on pinning the deaths on you and Mike.

As if you weren’t dealing with enough after watching your friends get murdered by the monster of another friend, the people that were supposed to be helping you were instead trying to charge you with them. If it wasn’t so fucking infuriating, it would’ve been laughable.

The worst part? You could hardly blame them.

When you took a second to listen to yourself, to what you were spouting to the police, you sounded insane. If you hadn’t witnessed it all first hand, you wouldn’t have believed yourself.

You told them to go down to the mines. That the thing that killed your friends would be down there, and they could see it for themselves.

You didn’t know if that was the right choice. Hell, you might’ve been sending those cops to their deaths. But it was the only way you could think of to get them to believe you.

(You doubted they would go down there anyways. What was the word of two crazy college kids over actual logic? Not much, you imagined.)

You were in that damn interrogation room for what felt like forever until you were finally taken to a hospital to get your wounds treated. But even in the hospital bed, police were by your side asking about what happened every day of your stay. After your discharge, you were forced into custody until they got information that they deemed satisfactory.

By some miracle, you and Mike weren’t charged with anything. The news might’ve gotten hold of your story, but you didn’t know. You didn’t want to know. You didn’t ever look at the news after the tragedy, too afraid that you would see the smiling faces of your friends staring back at you, or pictures of you and Mike with news anchors trying to talk about how involved the two of you were.

If there was one thing worse than going through hell, it was other people trying to make a profit off of your spiral.

Your friends’ families offered their condolences, but not much else. You didn’t hold it against them. Your survivor’s guilt was strong enough to know exactly why they didn’t reach out further.

(You blame yourself for their deaths, after all. Why wouldn’t they?)

It was the same situation with Mike.

Maybe you had purposefully drifted apart from him, trying to build up walls of your own so that he wouldn’t be able to spring it on you first. You assumed he hated you after what had happened, and he had every right to. You might’ve helped each other through the night, but you had no other option. Now, everyone else but you was dead — people he cared about more than you — and you just couldn’t face that.

But as you stared at yourself in your bathroom mirror, you realized that you might have to.

You looked awful.

Weeks of sleepless nights were catching up to you, appearing in the form of

hollow eyes and dark circles, along with a slight discoloration of your skin. The scars from the mountain had mostly healed, but there was a particularly nasty gash on your cheek that was still showing — it wasn’t doing you any favors in the ‘looking completely normal and sane and not severely sleep deprived’ department.

You splashed some water in your face to try and wake up a bit, but the slight drowsiness that followed you everywhere seemed to be a permanent part of you now.

(It was almost funny, in a way. You were so paranoid and alert all the time, unable to fall asleep, and yet it was all you could think about in moments like these. You wondered when irony had become such a staple in your life.)

You had tried talking to therapists, your friends, your family, even searching the internet for advice on what to do after a life changing traumatic event. Nothing had worked.

The simplest solution had come to mind more than once, but you had pushed it aside with the determination to work through this on your own. But now, staring at yourself and seeing how much you had deteriorated…

You had to go talk to the only person who would understand.

You had considered turning around more than once on the drive over.

Because, really, what the hell were you doing? Showing up at his doorstep in the middle of o dark thirty because— because what?

Because you had a nightmare?

He had gone through the same thing you had, probably even worse. Losing Jessica right in front of him, having to cut off his fingers to get free, spending countless hours alone, dealing with the nightmare that was the sanatorium, and then…

Well, you had been in the mines with him and Josh when it happened. There was no doubt in your mind that the scene replayed in his head endlessly, just like it did for you.

Showing up… it was going to be a mistake. You knew it was.

For all you knew, Mike had moved on already. He was stronger than you, he always had been. Maybe your presence would send him spiraling once more, or maybe it would just earn you a verbal beating like no other. Mike had always been nice enough, but the trauma you had endured was enough to turn a saint into his own worst enemy.

You didn’t know what would happen. You didn’t know anything, and as you turned down his street you regretted more than ever not keeping in touch with him. Maybe then you wouldn’t be in this situation, scrambling after your last hope for salvation after slowly killing yourself over the past few months.

But there was no chance to turn back now, because before you knew it your knuckles were rapping against his front door.

The pause between your arrival and a response was so long that you considered leaving and pretending like this never happened, but just as you began to step back the door swung open.

You didn’t really know what you were expecting, but… he was there. The only other testament to the horrors of Blackwood Pines, and maybe the only person that could help you through this.

“...hi,” you murmured, swallowing the sudden lump in your throat as you looked the personification of your shame in the eye.

Mike blinked a few times, whether to try and wake up a little or out of surprise from his visitor you didn’t know, but it was a few seconds before he responded in kind. “...hey. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you around.”

You chuckled dryly as you nodded. “Yeah. Sorry for the sudden arrival. I’m, uh… I’m kind of surprised you even opened the door.”

He huffed out a short breath in a facsimile of a laugh. “Not getting much sleep these days.”

“That’s something we’ve got in common.” You crossed your arms across your chest and let out a loose sigh, eyes wandering around in an attempt to think of what to say next. It should’ve been so easy, but… but for some reason, it just wasn’t.

“Guess so.” That awkward silence stretched out once more, neither of you knowing how to fill it. Thankfully, Mike continued to take the plunge, but it wasn’t without a slight barb. “What are you doing here?”

“I—” you stopped just as you had begun, because you really didn’t know. You had come here for help, but could Mike really do that for you? He was the same as you — a fucked up teenager trying to deal with something so far beyond him.

“I don’t know,” you admitted as you made eye contact once more. “I… I really don’t know. I’m out of options, and… I can’t keep going like this. So I came here to talk, or— or to try and get some help. I don’t know.”

That same silence filled the air once more, the night ambiance the only thing in between the two of you. You missed when that silence used to be comfortable, but… you could only blame yourself for it.

“So— so, what?” he asked, the beginnings of a frown starting to crease his brows. “You just— we go through all that together up there, and then when we get back down you don’t say a word for months. And now— now, out of nowhere, in the middle of the night, you just show up and ask for help?”

“God,” you muttered. When he put it that way, it was true. It was ridiculous, to expect his help after the way you had just left him to deal with it all on his own for a reason borne of your own insecurity. “You’re right. This was— this was stupid. I’m sorry.”

You had already turned to go when you felt a calloused hand on your shoulder, causing you to stop in your tracks.

“No.” His voice was surprisingly soft as he sighed, stepping back with a shake of his head to make room in the doorway. “No, I—” Mike paused for a moment, as if he couldn’t find the right words to say. “I’m sorry. You can come in. Obviously, you can come in.”

Your eyes widened slightly as you tried to hide your shock at the gesture, but you weren’t about to turn it down. You nodded, and he stepped aside to make space for you to walk in. When you did, you were met with a mess not unlike the one back at your apartment, save for the beer bottles. Clothes were strewn about haphazardly on every surface, so you took a seat on a clean spot on the floor, leaning back against a chair and pulling your knees up to your chest. You actually preferred it this way — it was grounding, in a literal sense. Mike pushed aside a laundry basket and did the same, but pulled one leg up and let the other lay extended.

“Why?” he asked suddenly, breaking the silence that had been accumulating once more. “Why did you just…” he gestured around with his hands to try and get his point across but ultimately settled with a sigh. “You didn’t say anything. You didn’t try to text, or call, or write, or— or anything. Hell, I would’ve probably jumped to get a messenger pigeon from you. But it was just… radio silence.”

You picked at the dry skin on your thumbs as you tried to come up with an answer. “I… I don’t know,” you repeated. “It was stupid, and it was horrible of me to leave you alone. I mean… I don’t know why I did it. I know what I’ve been going through, and I know you’ve been going through the same. So I don’t know why I didn’t try to reach out and see how you were doing.”

He chuckled mirthlessly as his eyes swept over the empty bottles that had accumulated on the coffee table. “I’m not the best with alone.”

“I know,” you said quietly. “I thought…” you shook your head as you looked at the ceiling. “I thought that you hated me. I know that you cared about them all more, you were closer to all of them, and… and I thought you wouldn’t want anything to do with me. That I would just always be a reminder of what you lost. And… and, I don’t know. Maybe it was my way of trying to move on. Was a stupid fucking idea, though.”

That got a genuine laugh out of him as he ran a hand through his hair. “I guess I get that. I dunno why I didn’t try to talk to you either. Maybe since you didn’t say anything, I didn’t want to either. This whole thing fucked me up.” His gaze moved to you. “Fucked us both up.”

“You can say that again,” you muttered as you tapped your fingers on your knees. “I can’t look anywhere without seeing them. I mean, I see that fucking…” you grimaced. “I see Josh, and I see what that thing did to him, and I just— I’m right back to step one.”

He swallowed hard and nodded. “...yeah. That was seven layers of fucked up.”

“You can’t just keep saying everything was fucked up,” you said dryly. “It was shitty, too.”

Mike snorted, some kind of slightly masochistic humor going on between the two of you. “Nothing really gets the point across like fucked up.”

“Guess you’re right,” you finally conceded with a small smile. “This is… this is nice. I’d almost forgotten what it was like to… I don’t know, to talk to someone like this.”

“It is,” he murmured.

Another pregnant pause hung in the air, but the silence wasn’t as uncomfortable now. Trickles of what it used to be like, of your old life, were beginning to poke through.

“I never hated you,” he said suddenly. Your eyes flicked up to meet his, and it was like his brown eyes were piercing through you as he continued. “I never did. After it happened… yeah, I was mad. I was fucking pissed, but it was never at you. You were my friend too, y’know? Even though we weren’t that close, we were still… we were still something. And I’m glad you made it. I just wish you hadn’t convinced yourself that you had to go through this alone. Maybe things would’ve turned out different, these past few months. For both of us.”

You nodded, choosing to avert eye contact first because you almost couldn’t handle the sincerity. Your heart sank a bit at the sight of all the beer bottles, and you knew that he was right. Maybe things would’ve been different if the two of you had weathered it together from the start. And so you said that.

“I still can’t help but feel like I’m to blame for—” you gestured around at the mess with a sigh, “for this.”

“Look.” His voice was raspy as he ran a hand through his disheveled hair, and as he met your eyes once more you were able to see how truly exhausted he was. With dark circles that matched your own, scars that were still healing, and a certain hollowness behind his eyes… It was like looking in a mirror. And it made you realize how fucked up the two of you had really become.

Mike had always been good at holding himself together, putting up his signature egotistical-douchebag-jock act in the face of anything that threatened to tear him down, and more often than not he came out victorious. But not even class presidents were immune to the horrors that they had faced, and it was taking more of a toll on him than you had realized.

“It’s not your fault. You— you did everything you could; I know I’m still alive because of you. Besides, we were idiot teenagers — we still are — and none of them deserved to die because of it. Not Hannah, not Beth, not any of them.” Mike shook his head and sighed. “Not even Josh. Man was fucked up even before all of this, but he didn’t deserve what happened to him. He needed help, but instead he got his fucking… god. I can’t even say it. But he didn’t deserve it.”

You let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding, the subconscious process having stopped because of the weight of his words. It was cliche, but you didn’t know how much you needed to hear those four words: it’s not your fault.

“Maybe you should be my therapist,” you joked weakly. But as you let your eyes trail back to Mike you bit your lip. He hadn’t included himself in that statement, and it wasn’t too hard to figure out why.

“Mike… it wasn’t your fault either. You’re not just saying bullshit to try and make yourself feel better, it really wasn’t your fault. What do they say? ‘Getting through your guilt is the first step to recovery’ or some shit? You deserve to be here just as much as I do.”

“But it was,” he insisted. “It’s easy for you to say that. You tried to stop it, I… I just went along with it. Fuck, I started it all. Hannah and Beth went missing because of me, Josh went out of his fuckin’ mind, and if he hadn’t brought us all back up there for his revenge plot then they wouldn’t have died. How is it not my fault? Why do I get to live when all of them died because of me?”

“Mike,” you sighed. “I… I don’t know. I don’t know why we made it back when none of them did, but it’s not your fucking fault, okay? You— yeah, that prank was fucking stupid, but— but how could you know what was going to happen?” You huffed a laugh that was only slightly unhinged. “People pull pranks all the time. Native American legend cannibal spirit things don’t try to kill people all the time. You can’t keep blaming yourself. It’s not going to help them, and it’s not going to help you.”

That silence stretched out once more as he took in your words. You didn’t know if he believed them or not, but you did. That had to be worth something, right?

“I’ve been doing a lot of thinking,” he muttered, breaking the silence once more. “And I… I don’t know. I don’t know why it took almost fucking dying from those goddamn things, a— and seeing what happened to all of them...”

“I don’t know,” he repeated, leaning back against the foot of the sofa. “All the shit that happened, all of them dying — I don’t know how long it’ll take until we’re okay again. Hell, I don’t even know if we ever will be okay again. What happened up there was fucked up in the worst way, and the fact that no one believes us makes it a hell of a lot worse.”

You chuckled darkly as you cupped one hand in the other. “You can say that again.”

His lips twitched for a moment as if he wanted to smile but ultimately thought better of it. “I know we aren’t that close anymore, but the truth is we’re the only ones on this fuckin’ planet that know what really happened up there. We’re the only ones that will ever really understand what happened to us, and… and I think we’re the only ones that can really help each other through this shit.”

He met your eyes once more, something resolute in them. “So the next time this happens, because it will, if you don’t want to be alone… you can come here. Any time, any day, no questions asked. Just knock on that door, and I will be there. No more isolation, no more trying to get through this on our own. We gotta be there for each other, because we’re all we have.”

You nodded gratefully, a feeling of warmth slowly creeping through your body with his reassurance. “Thank you, Mike. You… you have no idea what this means to me.”

“I think I have some clue,” he murmured.

As you exchanged weary smiles, you saw a faint twinkle in Mike’s eyes. He was always the kind of person to help others, even if it was for the wrong reasons, and that was one thing that stuck with him after the disaster. And in that moment, a long lost feeling washed over you — safety.

You hadn’t felt safe in… well, it seemed like forever. Adrenaline and pure instinct were responsible for getting you through those twelve hours, along with an overwhelming wave of numbness and denial. But once all of that wore off, the nightmares had begun. Your friends, the Wendigos, the mountain itself — anything and everything that your mind could use against you, it did.

It was a living hell. You could hardly ever sleep anymore, horrific images always jolting you awake after an hour or two and keeping you awake for the rest of the day. It was no wonder Mike had ended up with a drinking problem — it was probably the only way he could sleep, the only way he could bring some form of peace to his mind. By some miracle, you had avoided that fate, but… you would be lying if you said you hadn’t come close.

But somehow, for some reason, you could tell that things were going to be different. Now that you and Mike weren’t avoiding each other anymore in the name of painful memories… you felt like things were going to be okay. Or as close to okay as you could get these days.

You weren’t alone, and neither was he.

He had saved your life on the mountain more than once. Now, he was saving you again. Just in a different way.

perm tags: @dv0412 @siriuslyslyslytherin @maruchan77

ud tags: @kwyloz

#mike munroe #mike munroe x reader #mike x reader #until dawn x reader #until dawn #until dawn fic #mike until dawn #sadie writes #i always get so insecure when i post things that arent for atla #then i remember that. this is my blog and i can write what i want #lol

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fang-natic · 3 years ago

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Sing, Nightingale (part 1) - keigo tamaki x top!reader

You needed to know what he knew, but he wasn't going to give it up without a fight. Not that that matters. You know exactly what kind of fight to give him.

cw: kidnapping, noncon, bondage, mild knifeplay, orgasm denial, bdsm elements, humiliation, blackmail, drugging, needles, overstimulation, wing kink (is that what we're calling it)

an: i said i'd do it so i did. i dont know why i did it. or why it's so fucking long (gdocs says it's 1.3k, what the fuck). but i read some oneshots and did some limited browsing of the wiki so here you go. if you see something that doesn't make sense with the canon, no you don't <3

now i need to write a part 2 for this where you actually get to fuck him stupid. part 2 will probably establish reader to be amab, but you can read this part one as gn!reader

"So, who are you working with?" Hawk asks, cheeks still pink from where you'd ripped the duct tape off. "The Liberation Front? Some evil-League-offshoot? Or are you rogue?"

God, he's talkative. His wings are depleted to ragged, feathery stumps and ropes are criss-crossed over his arms and torso. He's on his knees right now, legs spread with shins bound to his thighs, and a bruise forming nicely on his cheek. Despite that, he still has the gall to mouth off.

You respond with another sharp backhand, this time across the other cheek, sending him careening to the side. "That's none of your concern," You drawl. "You're simply here to tell me what you know, and I'm here to learn it. However long that takes is up to you."

He slowly draws himself back up, shaking his head. He spits some blood onto the floor - "Damn, bit my cheek," he mutters - and looks up at you again. Still no fear in those golden eyes. A lazy grin on his abused face. "You get right to the point, huh? Damn, I like you a lot better than the other villains already."

"Then I take it that you'll be cooperative?"

"Ha, fuck no."

You kick him this time. Not hard enough to break his neck, but you catch him upside the chin, and hear the sharp clack of his teeth snapping together. His head almost droops to the floor in pain before he catches himself. "Almost felt that one."

"You're insufferable." You debate kicking him again, but you need his jaw intact so he can actually give you the info you need.

"That's what they all tell me," He laughs around the blood in his mouth. "Don't flatter yourself by thinking you're the first one to catch me. Plenty of other villains have tried the same thing, and none of them have actually made me sing. You're not gonna be very different."

"I wouldn't be so sure."

You crouch down with a knife in hand, and start the process of cutting away his clothes. He shivers as you make quick work of his shirt, and you can feel his heartbeat peak against his skin, though that doesn't actually stop the cocky lilt of his voice.

"Ah, classic, classic. The ol 'strip-and-whip' method. Most people buy me dinner first, but you're hot so I can make the exception-" He stutters a bit as you grab the waistband of his pants, jerking it upwards so you can drag the blade down the seams. "Phew, you're thorough, huh? Though I can't blame you, my ass is to die for-"

"You're rambling," You chide him. He's now entirely naked, save for his underwear and the shreds of his clothes that are still pinned do this body by the ropes. "Are you nervous, Keigo?"

"Hey now," He protests. "We're not on a first name basis. And this isn't my first rodeo, so..." He trails off as you pull at the elastic of his underwear so harshly it rips. "Whoa, okay, buy me dinner first." He laughs, but it's pitched a little higher.

"I know the kind of villains you've dealt with, Keigo." You touch the knife under his chin and tilt him up to meet his eyes. Finally, some reaction - his pupils have gone small with poorly-concealed fear. "The ones that use electricity and knives to try and make you talk. But you're a spy, aren't you? You're trained to deal with pain. I could cut you up bloody and you still wouldn't sing."

Your other hand squeezes his thigh, traveling up to his hip, tracing along the curve of his hipbone. "But I'm not like those other villains," You say, voice low and murmured right into his ear, as you press your palm against his cock, feeling it twitch as he yelps. "You're going to wish I was."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

You have him blindfolded now, and still kneeling in the middle of the cold, concrete room. His cock is stiff and drooling against his abdomen, leashed by a ring at the base. Vibrators hum from where they're clipped to his nipples, and stuffed deep into his ass.

His spine jerks as you play idly with the remote, a whine breaking out behind his clenched teeth. You've been at this for a while now, and he'd been mouthy at first, telling you how this was 'a normal Saturday night for him', and 'I don't need a safeword, don't worry' and 'can I call you daddy or is that off the table.' He'd shut up at the half-hour mark when he realized he was wasting his breath, and that you weren't kidding when you said you had no time limit.

Even so, he was handling things impressively. His bottom lip was bitten raw from where he'd tried to keep quiet, and not once has he begged or pleaded. You were going to need to step things up.

You turn the vibrations down, and he relaxes for an instant, before tensing up the moment he hears your footsteps approach. "What, bored already?" He rasps, making a grin that was more like a snarl. "And here I thought I was putting on a good show."

"I'm about to make it a better one, no worries." You pull the ring off his cock in one quick motion, and it bobbles obscenely. When you lift up a corner of the blindfold, a golden, watery eye blinks back. In your other hand, you hold a syringe, courtesy of Dr. Garaki himself (or pilfered from his laboratory, more like), and he darts between looking at you and it, eying the little needle nervously. "Don't worry, little bird. This isn't a Quirk-eraser or anything like that. It's just going to make you feel things." You pause. "Feel everything, in fact."

"Get away from me," He hisses, facade cracking as you bring the needle down near his neck. You fist your hand in his hair and force his head back, exposing the smooth contour of his throat. "Don't you fucking dare-"

"Whoops," You hum, as you inject him. "Too late."

His entire body shudders, and his eyes goes wide, pupil shrinking to a thin slit, and his mouth drops open in a shaky gasp. Garaki really outdid himself with this one, because the moment you release the hero he's curling in on himself, skin already flushing brightly in the cool air.

"What did-" He groans, throat working in a dry swallow. "What did you fucking do?!"

"It's terrible, isn't it?" You watch as he writhes, trying to position himself in a way that won't make him feel the ropes that are cutting into his skin, or the grit on the floor beneath his knees. "Everything that touches you is now amplified. Like so-" And you demonstrate and dragging one finger along the base of his wing, and he shakes like a leaf, a helpless whimper falling out of his throat. "Isn't that overwhelming?"

He growls, and flaps pathetically. "Don't you fucking touch them."

Ah, that's right. You remember he'd mentioned something about that. In some talk show or another; how he could feel things through his feathers, but only the ones at the base, and how he'd sometimes spend his free time combing through them.

You reach out now and grab one of his wings, squeezing and twisting, feeling all those little feathers tickle at your palm. Keigo, on the other hand, screams as if you shot him, and-

He cums just like that. Splatters white across the gray cement and onto his own stomach. His thighs shaking with the force of it, getting rubbed pink and stinging against the floor, and the blindfold darkens around his eyes with tears. He's gasping for breath like he just finished a race.

You can't help but laugh - one rough touch, and he was undone. You reach down and squeeze his softening cock, and he spasms, shaking his head. "Wai wait wait no, too much it hurts I can't-"

"Sure you can," You twist your hand, and he chokes on air. "Or do you want to be a good boy and finally tell me what I want to know?"

His jaw clamps shut at that, and you sigh. "Guess not." You shrug, and you squeeze a little tighter to watch him cry out.

#keigo tamaki smut #keigo tamaki x reader smut #hawks x reader smut #mha smut #dark mha #top!reader #dark fantasy #dark content #tw: noncon #bottom hawks #fang-natic works #im so glad i posted this the same day of bi mineta drop hslfkjalsdkfjlaskdjflaskdhglaksdjflaksdjf #i dont know who mineta is except i know i hate him and he's apparently bi in canon now LMAOOOOOOO #im so glad i dont care about mha

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moronic-validity · 3 years ago

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The Vincent Sinclair’s Boot x Reader Fic

okay so a few notes!

1) Reader is a trans guy (like your’s truly)

2) This is smut for the sake of smut, plain and simple.

3) I finished this at 2:30am and I have to be at work at 8.

This Contains: dubcon/coerced consent, drugs, bdsm, dom vincent, a boot kink, typos, almost murder, masturbation, and car problems! Everything under the cut is 18+!!!

As the temperature gauge crept higher and higher, [y/n] had to kick himself. He had been told to check his oil periodically through the road trip, but more than that, he had always been told to keep an extra thing of 5-20 in his car. Both pieces of advice went in one ear and out the other.

Which left him here, in the middle of nowhere Louisiana, 30 miles shy of Baton Rouge.

The immediate reaction was to get out of his car and scream. Sure, it was near midnight, but there wasn’t anyone nearby, so what was the worst thing that could happen. The flash of headlights on him and his car answered his question.

Great. Fantastic. Cool.

“Hey, sorry about the yelling,” he called out in the general direction of the headlights. “Any chance you have some 5-20, I’ll be right out of here if you do!”

No response. [y/n] sighed and sat on the hood of his car and watched the car. It was the middle of the night and it was still hotter than hell and humid to match. Without giving it much thought, he pulled his t shirt over his head and sat it on the hood next to him. What did it matter, he had a binder on anyway. Not like anything was showing.

The mystery driver flashed his brights at [y/n], then threw it in reverse and went back to where he came from.

Well that’s fantastic. I’m in the middle of nowhere and someone knows I’m stranded here. Perfect.

Without giving any more thought to it, he got back into his car and went to sleep, his t shirt thrown over his eyes.

The sun didn’t wake him up, the tapping on his window did.

[y/n] scrambled into an acceptable position and pulled his still damp t shirt on. Once his eyes adjusted to the light, he was able to see the man standing near his window. The man wasn’t intimidating or anything, but the situation was odd and [y/n] was immediately warry.

“Sorry ‘bout that, didn mean to startle ya or nothin,” The man with the green hat said with a small laugh, “it just looked like ya might need some help, most people don like sleepin in their car this time a year.”

[y/n] squinted at the guy. It wasn’t due to the accent or the look of him, the sun just happened to be right in his eyes. The perfect start to another fantastic day.

“Uh yeah, I’ve definitely had better days. Any chance you know where to get a quart or two of oil?” He asked, ending it with a still tired yawn.

“I could give ya a lift into town, ‘m sure Bo will help you out at the station,” The green hatted man offered helpfully.

“Actually, that’d be wonderful, thank you…” [y/n] realized that he just accepted a ride from a man who’s name he didn’t even know. His mother would be so proud.

“Lester, Lester Sinclair,” Lester said with an extended hand.

“[y/n], [y/n] [l/n]” He took the other’s hand and gave a firm shake. [y/n] was acutely aware of the tacky reddish-brown smudge that was now on his hand.

The ride into town was quite, aside from the rumble of Lester’s truck and the sound of tires throwing rock.

“So where’re you headed?” Lester asked, glancing over at [y/n].

“Ah, no direction, wanted to go up, down, coast to coast. Want to see a little bit of everything, I guess,” [y/n] picked at the skin around his index finger, “I’ve only broken down once, so I figure I’m doing okay.”

“Welcome to Ambrose, I know it probably isn where ya wanted t’ go, but there are worse places.” Lester said cheerfully.

The ride went back to being quiet.

“Oh shit,” Lester whined, more to himself than anything else, as he threw the car in park and jumped out, “ya wouldn’ mind givin me a hand flipping the hubs, would ya?”

What the hell does that even mean? {y/n] thought to himself as he hopped out of the car to help Lester with the task anyway. Help was a bit of a strong word for what [y/n] did, it was more get in the way and offer moral support. Lester appreciated the gesture and the company. Most people jumped out of the car and fled into town by this point.

The two got back into the truck and drove right on into Ambrose and parked in front of the service station.

“Now, you wait here, Bo ‘ll be ‘round soon,” Lester dropped [y/n] off with a wave then drove off to wherever he worked. It occurred to [y/n] that he never thought to ask.

It also occurred to [y/n] that he’d have to walk back to his car or hope that someone in town would be willing to give him a ride. Just one more thing. He sighed and sat with his back against the wall of the station.

At least there’s shade. It’s already starting to feel like the devil’s armpit, but at least there is shade.

Time passed, could’ve been hours, could’ve been minutes.

No, it was definitely hours.

Around the point [y/n] was sure that this Bo guy would have to pry him off the cement with a spatula, Bo happened to come down the road and up to the door of the station, near where he was sitting. Bo stood within arm’s distance as [y/n] pushed himself up off the sidewalk.

“I take it you’re Bo? [Y/n] [l/n], Lester said you might have some oil?” [y/n] offered the man he assumed to be Bo his hand. Bo flashed [y/n] a smile that seemed to try to hard to be charming.

“Well, I’d introduce myself but you already know who I am,” Bo chuckled. He was in a suit and tie, didn’t seem like he was dressed for his line of work. “ Let’s see if we can’t get you back on the road, hm?” He hummed to himself as he unlocked the door to let the two men into the store.

There was no AC, and that was the first problem [y/n] had with the station. The second problem was that there appeared to be no oil. Anywhere.

What type of station doesn’t carry oil. Oil. OIL. Walmart carries oil, DG carries oil. Why does this man not have oil.

“Uh….Hey Bo, any chance you have some oil in the garage that you’re willing to part with?” [y/n] asked, while squatting and looking at another shelf devoid of oil.

“I’m sure I could check,” Bo said, his voice drifting further away. [y/n] kept looking.

“So I’ve got some bad news, I don’t have any oil down here;” ,” Bo said as he re-entered the store, wiping his hands down on a grease rag, “Good news though, I got my restock shipment in yesterday and just haven’t gotten around to bringing it down from the house. I’m more than willing to let you wait here while I go up to to get what you need, but you look like you need something to drink.”

[y/n] thought it over. This would mark the second time in less than 24 hours that he went somewhere with a random stranger, but at least this time he knew the guy’s name.

Well, the south is known for its hospitality, so I might as well go and get something to drink.

“I’d really appreciate something to drink and thank you so much for the help,” [y/n] said, suddenly aware that his mouth felt like it was full of glue.

The pair were about halfway to the house, when [y/n] finally felt the need to ask about the suit.

“Okay so, I know it’s absolutely none of my business, but why are you wearing a suit? Isn’t it a bit hot for that?” Bo stopped moving at [y/n]’s question and seemed to consider a few possible answers before he nodded to himself and kept walking.

“Well, it’s not the heat that gets you, it’s the humidity,” he chuckled to himself, “and uh,” he paused to clear his throat, “My mom passed on, was at her service.”

“Bo, I am so sorry. If you don’t mind, I’ll be sure to pay my respects before I leave town,” [y/n] couldn’t help but feel intense sympathy for Bo.

He left his mom’s funeral to help me get some oil so I can get back on the road. Holy shit.

They walked in silence for the rest of the day, [y/n] was unsure how to comfort this stranger, so he just followed the other man’s lead. Silence.

Bo unlocked the door when they got up on the step and lead [y/n] into the house.

“Washroom is down the hall if you need it, the door should be open,” Bo motioned towards the washroom, “Make yourself at home.”

With that, Bo was in the kitchen, pouring two glasses of sweet tea. [y/n] decided to take Bo up on his offer of a washroom. Once the door was shut, he fought with his binder for a minute, before finally getting it off his chest, letting it hang loosely around his neck. At this point, it just felt good to take a few deep breaths. After a few minutes passed, [y/n] pulled his binder back into place, swore he’d keep it off until he hit the next rest stop, then went back out into the house and met Bo in the kitchen.

Bo handed [y/n] the glass of sweet tea, condensation already beading on the sides. Nice and cold and incredibly sweet, it even tasted southern. And a bit salty. [y/n] had never had homemade sweet tea before, so he assumed that maybe that just happened sometimes with the tea when it cooled.

The room started to sway.

“Hey, [y/n] maybe you should sit down, looks like the heat is getting to you,” Bo said, worry in his voice, but a smile on his lips, “maybe you ought to lay down for a bit.”

Not a bad idea. Not a bad idea at all.

That was weird, he tried to say it out loud, but his mouth didn’t seem to want to cooperate. Bo helped [y/n] to sit on the couch and as his vision started to darken, [y/n] swore he saw another person enter the room.

When [y/n] came to, he realized a few things in short order. It was much darker, he was not on the couch, and he was restrained to the metal table he way laying on. Ever the optimist, he was thankful for the fact that he still had his clothes on and also for the fact it was much cooler wherever he was.

A tall man with long dark hair entered his line of sight. [y/n] had a few ideas of things to yell at him, but instead, took a different approach.

“So, either I’ve been asleep for a really long time, or you’re not Bo,” [y/n] said, turning his head to get a better look at the man. The man’s shoulders shook, like he was laughing without the noise.

Okay so he can’t talk. Noted.

The man turned around to face the table and made sure his hands were in clear view as he signed, “Vincent.”

The motions were smooth and [y/n] caught it near immediately.

“Vincent is a nice name,” he mused, giving Vincent a charming smile of his own, “I’m [y/n]. Now, I do have a few questions, mainly, why am I tied up?”

Vincent turned his back on [y/n] and went back to preparing the paralytic, deciding to make it a bit stronger so the man on the table wouldn’t have to be awake for the worst of it. When he turned around and [y/n] saw the needle, the reality of the situation began to sink in and things snapped into focus.

“Hey Vincent, I don’t know what’s in that needle, but I promise you don’t have to do whatever it is you’re about to do,” [y/n] tried to keep his voice level as he squirmed and fought against the restraints, “I know we don’t know each other, but I swear you don’t need to do this.”

Vincent watched him writhe on the table and considered his options.

“Please, can we talk this out, please,” [y/n] continued to beg, tears forming in the corners of his eyes and bruises already forming at both his wrists and his ankles from the jerking around. Desperation in one hell of a drug, because in no other situation could [y/n] see himself saying, “I’ll do anything to convince you.”

Vincent set the syringe back down and walked up to the head of the table and gripped [y/n]’s jaw and turned his head to make sure he saw when he signed “Are you sure?” he drew it out to emphasize the importance of the question.

Was [y/n] sure? No. No he wasn’t, but he wasn’t in a place that allowed many options. Behind door one? Death! Behind door two? A questionable fate that could very well still end in death!

Yeah, I’ll go with door number two, please.

[y/n] nodded, Vincent’s hand still not leaving his jaw.

Vincent considered the situation for a moment. He considered the number of girls that Bo had brought to him after he had had his way with them at the station. Girls had never really been Vincent’s speed. There were plenty of attractive guys who had come through, but mostly they were either already dead or just spit curses at him. [y/n] was different. No threats, no insults, he was shockingly calm, all things considered. Vincent stroked up and down the side of [y/n]’s face, bringing his hand into the smaller man’s hair and pulling, eliciting a soft whimper.

“I want you to show me,” Vincent signed before undoing the restraints at [y/n]’s ankles. As for his hands? His hands were going to stay bound, but a change of position was still needed. Vincent kept eye contact with [y/n] as he undid his wrists.

[y/n] sat up on the table, moving slowly as to not startle Vincent. The last thing he wanted was to scare the guy who probably had a half dozen ways to kill him in arms reach. His wrists ached and were bleeding in some places. He rubbed at his sore joints before Vincent snapped his fingers, pointed directly at him, then down at the floor near his boot clad feet.

[y/n] had the opportunity to make a run for it, but instead knelt at Vincent’s feet. Vincent put his hand out and without thinking, [y/n] rested the side of his face against it. Vincent’s face burned beneath his mask, that was not what he needed the man to do. He pulled his hand away and gently slapped at the kneeling man’s face, not hard enough to hurt him, but hard enough for him to know that that was not the desired action. The kneeling man was a quick learner and when Vincent put his hand out again, he reluctantly placed his wrists in the larger man’s hands.

[y/n] was not thrilled at this situation, but he was also a simple man, and for all the terror in the situation, Vincent was a large man with shockingly soft hands that were big enough to envelop both of his wrists, who had complete control over the situation. Should he be getting wet due to the situation? Absolutely not, but in the one psychology class he took in high school, it was mentioned that fear and arousal were close together in the brain.

Vincent saw the bruising and blood on the smaller man’s wrists and was careful when he rebound them. Sure, he was planning on killing the guy, but his plans had changed. He threaded a rope and carefully suspended his wrists so that his wrists would remain above his head.

[y/n]’s first thought was that Vincent wanted head. Most guys he had met enjoyed getting head, so it did make sense. He carefully pressed his cheek against the man’s crotch and nuzzled against it, then looked up and into Vincent’s eyes for any sign. Instead, Vincent just lifted his knee and pushed [y/n] off of him like he was a disobedient dog.

A thousand thoughts raced through his mind as to what he wanted, if not a blow job. He was further confused when Vincent lifted his boot clad foot and pressed it into the smaller man’s pelvic bone, hard.

Oh.

The pressure of it was enough to lift him up just a little bit more and it had him wetter than he thought he could be in a situation like this. He pressed down onto the shoe and began to grind against it, shamelessly chasing the friction it created.

Vincent groaned. His cock twitched as he watched the man’s lewd display. He didn’t want [y/n] to touch him, not yet. There was still the chance that could go horribly wrong, what Vincent wanted was to see exactly how desperate the man was. Vincent began to palm himself, stroking through the fabric of his pants while he watched.

The answer was very. [y/n] was very desperate. [y/n] was desperate not to die and now, now he was also desperate to cum. He pressed himself harder against the toe of Vincent’s boot and rutted against it, groaning loudly when it pressed up against that bundle of nerves. He began to fall into a rhythm that hit every sensitive spot he could reach.

Vincent’s hand was now in his pants as he stroked himself to the same rhythm [y/n] was fucking himself to. God, Vincent thought to himself, this man was making an absolute whore of himself. It might not be a bad idea to keep him around. Could make work slightly less taxing. Then the bound man made a sound that snapped Vincent out of his thoughts and almost made him cream his pants.

He was getting so close, he had thrown himself so into chasing his high that he almost forgot that the circumstances that brought him to this were less than desirable. He pressed began to rotate his hips so that bundle of nerves caught significantly more pressure and more friction. He let out a loud, needy whine.

“Please Vincent, please tell me I can cum, I’ve been such a good boy, please God, Vincent,” the words came tumbling out of his mouth, he was babbling and begging for a different release now. Vincent bucked into his own hand, listening to the whines and pleas.

Tears were starting to form in [y/n]’s eyes again, he was trying so hard to be good for Vincent, trying so hard to be his good boy. Sure, less than an hour ago, he wanted nothing more than to be as far from him as possible, but God, he was so close to cumming and he just needed Vincent to tell him he had been good. Hadn’t he been good enough to deserve release?

Vincent pressed his crotch against [y/n]’s face and continued to jack himself off. He didn’t want the man’s mouth, but he wanted the proximity. He was so close to his own release. So so close, all he needed was-

“Oh GOD, sir please, I’ve been so good for you, please sir. Tell me I’ve been a good boy for you, tell me I’m your good boy, please sir; oh my God, please, please,” [y/n] continued to babble, now crying for release against Vincent’s aching cock.

Yeah, that just about did it for him. Vincent’s orgasm took him hard and left a sizable stain that leaked into the front of his pants and against the begging man’s face. Vincent closed his eyes, lost in his own release. When things snapped back into focus, he realized the other man was still whining pitifully, still having not came.

Vincent had to admit, he was impressed at the man’s willpower, it was oddly attractive to him that the man refused to grant himself pleasure without permission. This could actually work out wonderfully, Vincent thought to himself.

He took the rope in his free hand and yanked on it hard enough to knock the [y/n] off balance. He looked up at Vincent as he tried to regain balance. Vincent let go of the rope and let him drop onto his knees, but his eyes were still locked on his masked face.

Vincent thought about it for a moment before signing “I want you to cum.”

That was all [y/n] needed to hear before going back to rutting against the shoe, quickly going over the edge and coating the toe of the boot in his fluids. He braced himself against Vincent’s leg, mumbling thank yous as he came back down. Vincent allowed this to go on for a short while, before cutting the rope and pressing [y/n]’s face down to the still wet boot.

Vincent used one hand to yank [y/n]’s hair to make the blissed out man look up at him, with the other hand, he calmly signed “Clean it up.”

#slasher fucker #vincent's boots #vincent sinclair #vincent sinclair x reader #vincent x reader #house of wax #nsft #I haven't written a fanfic in years #fanfic #theo writes #theo's thoughts #teddy talks #bo sinclair #lester sinclair #sinclair brothers

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stealforreal · 3 years ago

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Midoriya Izuku - Future kids I

Midoriya Izuku's day just got turned upside down. MIdoriya is slightly ooc, and I'm dissapointed with the quality of this work. I lost inspiration sorry, but here you go anyways.

Midoriya Izuku x f!reader

Warnings: none, maybe slight cussing

It had been a normal day, so far. Class 1-b and 1-a had a joint training session, and everyone was giving it their all. Iida was using his recipico burst against their team's opponents, giving Midoriya time to think up a new plan now that they had been discovered. They had previously planned to use Aoyama's navel laser to lure their opponents to a specific spot, before using Iida to get him away so Midoriya and Todoroki could apprehend them. The plan had unfortunately backfired, since they had captured Aoyama before Iida could get to him. The solid air user from 1-b had gotten him in his hold, and only after Todoroki had gotten him back did they realise how much the rest of the plan would fail. So now Midoriya was tasked with coming up with a new plan.

Todoroki was occupied with holding the others at bay, and Iida was running out of fuel so they wouldn’t be much help. Aoyama was on the brink of his usual stomach ache that followed with overuse, so he was also pretty useless. Even if he wanted too Midoriya knew he was out matched, a 4 v 1 would not end well for him, besides he had to look out for Monoma and his copy quirk. He was so in his head planning that he didn’t see the Copycat sneaking up on him, not before it was too late. He should have felt an impact, Monoma had pointed one of Bakugou’s explosions towards him. But the impact never came, instead he felt himself float in the air hovering over the remaining smoke from the explosion. “Don’t you dare hurt my daddy” A loud girly voice proclaimed, effectively gaining everybody nearby attention.

Turning his attention towards the girly voice, he felt himself freeze up. In the middle of their training field stood a girl around the age of 10, if he had to take a guess. But that wasn’t what caused him to freeze up, no not the fact that this young girl had somehow managed to bypass UA’s security. Which should have been impossible, considering all the improvements that had been made to it after all the villain attacks that had happened. No, what caused him to freeze up was the fact that before him stood this girl, who looked like a carbon copy of him. It seemed that way from this distance. “Who is responsible for holding Midoriya in the air?” Aizawa’s gruff voice rang out. “Oh right, I forgot about that,” The curly green haired girl exclaimed, catching the attention of the slowly increasing crowd. Slowly Midoriya could feel himself being lowered to the ground again, once his feet hit the cement the quirk that had previously held him in the air deactivated making him feel 10 times heavier.

“Who the fuck disturbed the exercise, I’m gonna kill who ever did it” a familiar angry voice yelled out, making Bakugou’s presence noticeable. Everybody was a little on edge, they had enough experience with villains to not foolishly blindly trust anybody. It didn’t matter that it was a 10 year-old girl, or that she looked like a carbon copy of the resident green haired cinnamon roll. “Man, Uncle Katsu you really were loud back in the day” This statement from the green haired girl left everyone speechless. ‘Does she have a death wish’ was the thought on most of 1-A’s minds, nobody was so casual with Bakugou because it was a serious health hazard.

Well everyone except maybe his two best friends, Kirishima and y/n. It was common knowledge in class A that Bakugou had a soft spot for his two best friends, they had honestly been shocked the first time they met her. She had walked into the classroom, blank faced, walked over to Bakugou’s table, smacked him upside the head with a book before leaving it on his desk, and walked out the door with only a quick “don’t forget it next time, Idiot”. Miraculously she had lived, and Bakugou hadn’t even begun yelling. An impressive feat in itself. Not long after Midoriya had begun noticing you around school, and found out you were a part of the support course. He came to know you a bit, his observation skills made that almost too easy. Slowly but surely he began falling in love with you, the way your hair frames your face, your sharp tongue that never held back. How you would stand up for anybody, it didn’t matter if you knew them well or not if they were in trouble you would help them.

“Hah, what was that you brat?” Bakugou’s loud yelling and heavy footsteps approaching snapped him out of his thoughts, and back to the situation at hand. “ W-wait a minute Kacchan, I’m s-sure that there is a logical explanation” He found himself saying before he could even register what happened. Midoriya was hit with an immense feeling of protectiveness, similar to when they had rescued Eri, but stronger. Without knowing he had subconsciously stepped in front of the girl, pushing her behind his back. “Don’t worry dad I can handle myself, besides it’s only uncle Katsu” she spoke up behind the protective cinnamon roll. “Explain now” Aizawa cut in before they could get side tracked again. It was like the fact she hadn’t introduced herself, only hit her now.

“ Right, allow me to introduce myself” Bowing slightly she continued. “ My name is Midoriya Izumi, I am 10 years old and from the future” Aizawa sent her a raised eyebrow, wanting an elaborated answer. “ My friend was being teased by the others in class about how he was quirkless” Izuku tensed slightly but continued listening to Izumi “ Since my friend’s parents each has a quirk related to time, his mom could speed up herself for only a couple of minutes and his dad could slow down others a bit. This made it really hard for my friend to know if he had a quirk or not, so I helped him research and test different theories. Our last one must have worked, which is time travel by the way, but I have no idea how long his quirk will last” Izumi rambled slightly, reminding them of another curly green haired individual. Difference is Izumi talked loud enough for them to hear, and a bit slower making it understandable.

“Wait, you said your name was Midoriya Izumi. Does this mean that you are Midoriya’s daughter” The ever stoic, conspiracy theory thinking, dual haired boy pointed out. “ Yep, sure am uncle Sho, Don’t tell me you don’t see the resemblance.” She stood next to Izuku hugging his waist with one arm, before continuing” I’m dad's younger copy but female, mom always says there is more wholesomeness in him than there is in her. I remember her asking dad one time why his genes were so damn strong. Luckily for her Haru looks a lot more like her, he’s her younger copy but male” The people present looked between the two Midoriyas, it was true nobody could deny that she was her fathers daughter. The only thing that was different was her eyes, they had specks of y/e/c instead of being fully emerald like Izuku’s were. Also she talks a lot, just like their classmate. They shared the same green hair, both were curly in texture and the classic Midoriya freckles. Though it seemed that she had gotten more of her mothers personality, at least they assumed so. I mean she stood up to Bakugou, without even flinching at his tone.

“Oi, squirt what’s your quirk. And quit rambling like shitty Deku” Bakugou asked, interest evident in his tone. “ Right, my quirk is called Telekinesis, so I can move stuff with my mind. It was also how I was able to keep daddy in the air” Izumi responded, puffing her chest out comically in pride. “Huh so it skipped a generation, and your quirk is stronger than my mom’s. But you also have a different approach so maybe that helps. I wonder why yours is stronger, is it because of your mothers quirk. But then again my quirk is also powerful maybe an aspect of it ties to the genes maybe that’s why your quirk is stronger than moms” The older green haired individual began mumbling on, and he probably would have continued if he hadn’t been cut off by his lowly daughter hitting him in the head. “ Daddy stop mumbling,” Izumi stated sternly.

Bakugou grinned, he liked this kid's spunk and she seemed to have a strong quirk, even if she was shitty Deku’s kid. “Oi squirt fight me” He loudly proclaimed, earning all his classmates attention. Almost everyone began yelling over each other, what the hell dude and she just a kid another one was so not manly bro. Instead of being happy her dad’s old classmates were defending her, stopping her uncle from fighting her she got annoyed. So what if she was a child, this wouldn’t be her first time fighting her dad or her uncles. Before everyone could attack Bakugou even more a voice piqued up “ Sure, if that is alright with you sensei” she directed her attention towards Mr. Aizawa.

It wasn’t rational to challenge a child to a fight, but he couldn’t deny she had a great fighting spirit in her eyes. So he allowed it, he was curious himself to see how it would end. The control she displayed earlier was phenomenal, and she was only 10 but she had a lot of potential in his book. He shooed everuýone a bit away from the hothead and the young Midoriya, and so then created a ring of sorts acting a the line of confinement.

3…..2…...1…...GO!

Bakugou charged straight in with his usual right hook, only to have it swiftly caught by Izumi. She grabbed his right hand, squatted down a bit, then swiftly pushed her shoulder into his rib. The momentum of that allowed her to, even with some difficulty, flip his much larger body over her shoulder and into the ground. There was a small second of silence where Bakugou just laid on the ground in shock, a girl over 5 years younger than him just flipped him over her shoulder like it wasn’t even that hard. However Izumi didn’t give him time to think as she sent metal bars towards him. They had been fried earlier, before her arrival. Bakugou used his explosions to evade the metal projectiles, sending another one straight towards her face. Die squirt die, his colorful vocabulary re-entered the scene. She used her Telekinesis to command the explosion to change course and hit Bakugou square in the face instead. Slightly dazed Bakugou didn’t have time to move before a heel connected to his temple, effectively knocking him out.

Everyone who bore witness to this fight was shell shocked, Bakugou lost. The fight lasted only around 8 minutes before the winner of the 1 years sports festival got knocked out by a 10 year old girl. “Huh, that was easier than expected,” the panting girl exclaimed. Izuku could feel his chest swell with pride, that was his daughter. Strong and smart just like her parents. She walked over to Izuku and slumped against him “ I’m tired daddy, carry me” She looked up at him with those doe green eyes, and how could he say no to his little warrior princess. Blushing, he picked her up, and she let out a sigh of contentment. Using her quirk to command things on a molecular level, like Bakugou’s explosions always took a toll on her.

“Midoriya take Izumi to the dorms to let her rest, the rest of you come with me for our next exercise” Mr. Aizawa commanded the frozen teens and teacher. Izuku then began making his way to the dorms, asking his sleepy daughter a tornado of questions. Do you know about my quirk, how does your quirk work, how old is Haru, am I a good dad, who is your mom? Even in her sleepy state Izumi answered his questions to the best of her abilities, though she refused to reveal who her mother was.

When they arrived at the dorms he put her on the living room couch, and went to leave to grab her some old All Might merch that could fit her. Before he could leave she grabbed his cheeks rather harshly, looking him straight in the eye she said “Don’t worry about who mom is, she loves you for you so it's gonna be fine. Also don’t screw this up so I’ll still be born.” Izuku sweat dropped nervously, before getting out of her hold to go find that old merch of his.

When he returned to the living room after finding what he was looking for, he looked around only to find that it was empty. He walked over to the couch and coffee table where he found a note, picking it up and sitting down on the couch to read it. Dearest daddy, I felt tingly so I think the quirk is gonna wear off now. I just wanted to say that you are awesome and the best daddy out there, I love you so much. I’ll see you again in the future - hugs Izumi Midoriya. Izuku’s heart fell, she had only just arrived an hour or so ago and now she was gone. He didn’t get to know his daughter better like he had hoped, and he didn’t get to see her adorably dressed up in his old All Might merch. He read the note over and over again, trying to satisfy his heart. He would see her again in the future, and then it clicked. his heart swelled, yeah he would see Izumu again some day.

Yeah he would see her again when he was married and happy. Yeah he could wait for that, as long as he has too.

@rainypeachbakerygoth

#bnha #midoriya izuku #mha bakugou #shoto todoroki #mha #dad au #Izumi is badass

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 4 years ago

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Averykedavra prompt: okay, first of all, can I be added to your taglist? I love your fics! secondly, if you're open to prompts (apologies if you're not) could you write some logan-centric hurt/comfort? with roman and maybe Virgil comforting him? no pressure, but thanks!! and again your fics are absolutely incredible

Thanks for the prompt babe you’re an icon ^_^

Read on Ao3

Warnings: Logan’s not feeling so great, so self-doubt, self-esteem issues, all that jazz

Pairings: depending on how you want to read it, logince, analogical, possible prinxiety, analogince, or just hella platonic. My aro ass doesn’t know anymore you choose

Word Count: 4237

When a Side's role is disregarded, their door fades from the hallway.

Logan...do the others really need Logan?

Or just Logic?

“Neato! So you're making your little factoids optional this time around.”

Thank Archimedes the little pixelated boxes didn’t allow for much dynamic character interaction.

Logan swallows and tries to keep going, growing more concerned that the lump in his throat would make it impossible to speak. But he can do this. For Thomas, he can do this. He has to.

“Oh, I’ve got this one, guys!”

‘IGNORANT’ flashes up in front of him in big, red letters. Almost immediately he can hear the scoldings of Thomas and Patton followed by Roman’s mumbled apology but it’s too late. The word sears itself into his brain and he can’t see anything other than the choice that they’ve made.

He swallows again. Alright. He’ll speak directly to the audience. Thomas has to listen to them eventually, doesn’t he?

…well, maybe, but that doesn’t stop it from hurting every time he pops up with something and it’s completely ignored. He tries to appeal to Patton’s sense of humor. He tries to give Roman something when he can’t find the right words. He tries to give Thomas something, anything.

Then he gets overexcited and pushes Patton into the blinds.

The second Roman’s sword flashes out and slices him neatly in two a searing bolt of pain spreads to his arms, to his chest, to his throat. He knows logically—he knows everything logically—he can’t be hurt by that. It isn’t him. He is not connected in any way physically to these lowdowns.

So why are his hands shaking?

This is so ridiculous. He is Logic. He should not be working like this, he should not be reacting like this. This is logically the next step, he must simply not be out of the adjustment process yet. Which is ridiculous in and of itself, has he not mentioned several times over that the presence of the others imbeds Thomas’s ability to think rationally and calmly about the issues they have to face? Has he not himself wondered that if he were not so…undone by being in the same room that he finds it difficult to keep going when he needs to? Shouldn’t this be better?

“You know I'm- I'm not doing a really great job explaining this philosophy. Um, Logan?”

Patton? Logan pops up.

Patton smiles—smiles?—at him as the box appears at the bottom of the screen. From this angle, he can’t see Roman or Thomas. What’s happening? Why hasn’t he been paying better attention?

Why can’t he focus?

“What would a real philosopher think about what I'm saying here?”

Oh. Oh, no. This isn’t going to be good, is it?

“Well, Frederich Nietzsche really wouldn't have been thrilled with anything you've had to say, primarily because pity seems to be at the center of your idea of ‘putting good into the world.’”

“Th-that's not what—“

“Nietzsche famously rejected the notion that pity was a virtue.”

“Okay,” comes the quiet mumble that, really, should’ve told him to stop talking now, he wasn’t being useful anymore.

But no. Logan was never very good at being quiet, now was he?

“He once claimed that pity ‘runs counter to the instincts that preserve and enhance the value of life…’”

Last chance, Logan, something in his head whispers as something else flashes in the corner of his vision.

‘Skip all.’

But they would never do that, right? They knew, somewhere, because Thomas knew, that you had to listen to Logic. You had to listen, at some point, because if you didn’t, what did you have? They would shake their heads or grumble in annoyance, or cut him off when he’d been talking for too long or ask him to be quiet, but they’d never skip him entirely, cut him out of the conversation, would they?

Patton’s finger presses the button and something of unyielding cold wraps around Logan’s neck.

He flails as it yanks, jerking back awake with his eyes open, out of the boxes, out of the video, at his desk, staring at the screen as his lowdown program blocks him out.

No.

No!

What happened? Why did they—is he—can he—

Why didn’t they want to listen?

Logan’s fingers fly over the keyboard in front of him, searching desperately for an answer. Maybe he programmed this wrong. Admittedly he’s a little new at programming so he could’ve messed something up that disconnected him. Maybe Patton clicked it by mistake. Why was there even a ‘skip all’ button to begin with? He doesn’t remember programming that. And what was it that wrapped around his throat?

His hand goes to his neck at the mere memory of the horrible thing that yanked him out. He winces when his fingers slide of patches of warm, inflamed skin. It…it actually hurt. It left a mark.

What—

The instant his lowdown pops up with his face, he knows.

It shouldn’t hurt. Really. This shouldn’t hurt.

Now perhaps Deceit could see what it was like to be Logic. Or at least to try and be Logic.

Now perhaps…perhaps he may have someone to talk to.

No.

Deceit was, in fact, far better at being Logic. Within an instant, he’d gotten the conversation to his side, gotten the others to listen, to think about what they were saying instead of just following on blind faith.

Of course.

Because it wasn’t Logic they didn’t want to listen to, was it?

It was Logan.

Logan closes his eyes. Alright. He can adapt to this. He can…he can work with this. He just has to figure out how.

He turns away from the computer, stands, and carefully makes his way across his room to the nightstand, where the emergency first-aid kit sits tucked in the drawer. He will patch himself up, best he can, and then figure out what to do.

He’s too distracted to hear Roman’s terrified shout.

“What have you done with Logan?”

———————————————————

A few hours after filming stops, there’s a very soft knock on Logan’s door. He doesn’t move from his desk, nor does he pause in his typing. False sympathies and empty comforts have never been very appealing.

…and he is just the slightest bit worried that he won’t be able to resist the urge to slam the door in Patton’s face.

Footsteps moving away sound from outside. Good. It’s better this way, isn’t it?

The lowdowns didn’t work. Well, they did…but they worked a little too well, didn’t they? Instead of being less invasive, they just…cut Logan’s contributions out entirely. They let Logan be taken. They were good for Logic, not Logan.

Logan’s head turns to the wall where he has two lists tacked up. Standing, the desk chair scraping behind him, he picks up the marker.

His job is to be Logic. Therefore, if he is failing at that job, he must find a way to be better.

The list on the left has ‘LOGIC’ written in large, block letters. On the right, ‘LOGAN.’ Isolating the key characteristics of each concept will help to shift himself properly into the role he must play. Logan’s eyes scan down the ‘LOGIC’ list.

LOGIC:

Emotionless

Useful

Rational

Necessary

Welcome

The end of the word ‘welcome’ is smeared. Logan looks down at the marker. His hands had shaken so much as he added that last word…why? It was true; logic should be welcome in any conversation, that’s why is it so useful, that’s why it has so many of the other characteristics that it has. Logic should be wanted, regardless of the subject matter, because of what it could do. It had felt so small of Logan to add the word, even when it was the correct course of action. Was it not implied by the others that it should be wanted?

That…that he should be wanted?

Unconsciously, Logan twists the cap of the marker back and forth as his eyes dart over to the ‘LOGAN’ list.

LOGAN:

Irritating

Invasive

Emotional

Easily dismissed

Unwanted

If he had any doubts about whether or not these qualifications were inaccurate, each had cemented their place on this list after today.

Logan’s hand flies to his neck again, grazing over the bandages he’d wrapped around himself, only to stutter to a halt when his fingers met the fabric of his tie.

His tie.

Hadn’t—he’d—he’d been so sure he’d been doing this right. He dressed well, he spoke carefully, he did his research, why—why was it so easy for them to say he was—to think of him as—

…why didn’t they want to listen to him?

He tried. He tried so hard to be what they wanted, what they would listen to, to appeal to each and every one of them to make sure he was still fitting in enough to be heard. Logic had to be heard, that’s one of its most important qualifications.

As his fingers fumble and catch around the knot, it pulls taut and for a moment he’s thrown back into the feeling of Deceit’s crook around his neck.

Oh.

Oh, that’s right…he…Deceit—or, well, Janus, now—didn’t he...he was…Logic isn’t the problem.

Janus’s Logic made them listen. Janus’s logic made them pay attention. Janus’s Logic was wanted.

Logan’s fingers slide off his tie in a numb haze.

His hand falls limply to his side.

He stares at the lists.

Irritating.

Invasive.

Emotional.

Easily dismissed.

There is a reason none of these qualifications have come up when he considers pure Logic.

A wave of cold rushes over Logan. His knees wobble. His hand staggers out for something, anything to grab onto, to hold, to stop himself from collapsing under the weight of what he just realized, to stop it, to stop it, to stop—

He hits the ground with a thud.

The words beat into his head over and over as he lies there, frozen, cold, so cold, curled up by his bed with something wrapped tightly around his throat and his glasses staying stubbornly on his face so the words remain in perfect focus.

It is not Logic that is the problem.

The others can use Logic.

The others can listen to Logic.

The others can want Logic.

They just don’t want Logan.

Logan curls closer around himself as it starts to become very, very cold. That…this can’t be right, he must be missing something. He’s emotionally compromised right now, he’s not any good at being Logic, maybe—maybe that means he’s doing it wrong, he has to be doing this wrong, there’s no way they could—they need him, don’t they? They need Logan, they have to listen to him, they—they—

Unbidden, a whine escapes Logan’s throat. It burns as it rings around his empty, cold room. He covers his face with his hands.

Even his cheeks feel icy cold.

Someone will notice, he tries frantically, someone will notice if I never show up again, someone will notice if I—if—if—

But they didn’t notice. Not today.

Not until it was too late.

Outside, in the corridor, a dark blue door begins to fade into the wall.

———————————————————

“Logan? Logan!”

Bam, bam, bam.

“Logan!”

Frantic hammering against the door jolts him awake. Immediately he winces as something in his neck catches. How—how long has he been like this?

“Logan, please, open the door, we—we can’t open it!”

Oh…the others have noticed…should go open the door.

Wincing again, Logan rights himself, sitting up with his back leaning against the bed, blinking through his fuzzy glasses. Why are they so filthy?

…oh, he must’ve been crying.

How emotional.

“Logan? Logan can you at least say something?”

“I’m gonna break this door down.”

“No!”

Well, yes, Logan does not want his door broken down. Groaning, he stands, making his way over to the door that—wait.

Why…why is his door so…pale?

The knob looks almost translucent as he reaches for it, his pulse hammering as his fingers close gently around where it should be. He takes a deep breath and carefully, carefully, turns it.

“Logan, thank god, I—“ Virgil cuts himself off with a choked gasp as he stares at Logan. “…L? What…what happened to you?”

“What do you mean?” The instant it comes out of his mouth he knows what Virgil means. He sounds like his throat is actively attempting to cut itself off with every breath.

A choked whine comes from behind Virgil. Logan’s eyes dart over to see Roman a sickly pale, staring at Logan, horrified.

“…S-specs? Specs, I—Logan, oh, no, can I—can we—“ Roman reaches for him, only to freeze and quickly pull back his hand.

Another wave of cold settles over Logan and his hand falls through the doorknob.

“Logan,” Virgil murmurs, “can we come in, please? I, uh, we wanna talk to you for a moment.”

Why would you want to talk to me?

“…of course.” Logan steps aside and lets them pass, looking down at his hand.

It’s still a hand, but it looks…thinner. He can tell where it isn’t, if that makes sense.

When has Logan ever made sense?

Virgil sits down on the floor, next to his bed. Roman hovers near the door, wringing his hands together as Logan carefully pushes the door closed.

“I’m sorry, Logan.”

Logan’s eyes widen as his head jerks around to face Roman. Roman gives him what may be the smallest smile he’s ever seen before taking a deep breath.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, the sincerity making the cold burn in Logan’s chest, “I didn’t mean to hurt you. It—it was stupid of me to press the ‘ignorant’ button and it was not my intention to hurt you. And I...slashing your box was wrong too. I just saw Patton get hurt and I—”

He cuts himself off and takes a deep breath.

"I'm sorry, Logan," he repeats, softer this time, "for all that I have done to hurt you. I want to be better about it."

Oh. “…thank you, Roman,” Logan says carefully, “I appreciate your apology.”

Roman gives him a nod. Logan looks at Virgil, whose head still rests against the bed, staring at the two of them.

“Is this what you wanted to discuss?”

“Sort of, but…uh, Logan, you…you’re not looking so great, bud.” Virgil shifts, looking to Roman, who nods and takes a seat on the floor too, leaving a space between them. “Will you come sit with us?”

“…of course.”

Logan sits gingerly between the two of them, his gaze fixed on the outlet in the wall opposite them. He hears the rustling of fabric as Virgil shifts, and sees a little white in the corner of his eye as Roman scoots a tad closer.

“So,” Virgil murmurs after a second, “I guess this video was…hard.”

Roman huffs quietly. Logan nods. “Yes.”

“Can you tell me what happened?”

“Have the others not already told you?”

“I’d like to hear it from you too.”

Logan takes a deep breath, ignoring the way the cold burns the inside of his lungs. “I attempted to implement a new strategy for how I interact with you and the viewers. Instead of appearing in person, I chose to use a series of lowdowns so the information would appear in a non-invasive way.”

There’s a moment of silence.

“…keep going, L.”

“They were…not as well-received as I had anticipated.”

A flash of movement and a stifled noise make him look over. Roman fiddles with the hem of his sleeve right in front of his mouth, obviously having cut himself off. He glances over.

“I’m sorry,” he says quietly, “I didn’t want to interrupt. Please, continue.”

“I, er…” Logan swallows, something about the movement of Roman’s fingers holding his focus captive. “I hurt Patton.”

From his other side comes a sharp intake of breath. Logan looks away.

“I hurt Patton. I could not do my job properly. I had compromised the conversation. A ‘skip all’ button appeared and…”

“Patton pressed it,” Virgil finishes when Logan doesn’t speak, “he told me.”

Logan doesn’t say anything. The crook manifests around his throat again and he shudders.

“…Logan,” Roman’s worried voice says, even as it sounds like it’s coming from underwater, “Logan, did…what did that do to you?”

“Janus,” Logan croaks, “he—his staff, it—I—“

“Hey, hey,” Virgil croons, reaching for the hands that tug persistently at his collar, at his bandages, when did they get there?— “don’t do that, L, you’re gonna hurt yourself, stop that…”

“Logan, can I hold your hand, please?”

Logan lets Virgil tug his hands away from his neck. It—why—what’s happening?

Why are Virgil’s hands so warm?

Judging by Virgil’s expression, he’s as concerned about the stark difference in temperature as Logan is. Several emotions flit across his face before Logan can name them until they both register Roman’s question. Roman holds his hand out, all but pleading for Logan to let him.

“Please,” he whispers, his hand starting to tremble, “please, Logan, may I…can I just hold your hand?”

“Why are you so worried,” Logan wants to ask, “what is it that makes you so insistent about holding my hand?”

Instead, when his voice is barely about a strangled whisper and his first attempt makes his hand phase completely through Roman’s, the question emerges as a stifled scream.

“Shh, shh,” Roman whispers, moving in as close as he can, trying to curl his hands around where Logan’s should be, “it’s okay, it’s okay, we’ll—we’ll figure it out, Logan, we’ve got you, it’s okay—“

Roman burns.

“R-ro—“

“Easy, Roman,” Virgil mutters from behind him, “take it easy, you’re gonna freak us all out.”

“I know, I know.” Roman clutches the air of Logan’s hand tightly. “Okay…okay, Specs, we gotta…we’re gonna take some deep breaths, okay?”

No, no, it hurts when Logan does that, what’s…

He does as bid. The air whines in protest as he slowly breathes in and out, in and out, focusing on Roman’s thumb rubbing small circles into his hand. Roman seems to calm a little as he watches, bringing Logan’s hand close enough to cradle it in his lap as they breathe.

“Good,” Virgil manages, still clutching Logan’s other hand tightly, his own voice shaking slightly, “okay, now we’re all just gonna calm down, yeah? Just…nice and calm…”

Logan has no idea how long they sit there, on the floor, only that after a few more deep breaths, it no longer hurts. Roman’s hand no longer burns, it’s just warm. Virgil no longer trembles, he’s just there.

“My apologies,” he manages, “I did not mean to be so…inconvenient.”

Roman’s cry of protest is quickly accompanied by: “hey, no, none of that, Logan, you’re not being inconvenient. It’s been a hard day for all of us.”

“But was I not—“

“No,” Roman interrupts gently, “I’m sorry for interrupting, but…no, Logan. Nothing that happened today was your fault. Absolutely nothing.”

“…I’m the one who hurt Patton.”

“That was an accident and you didn’t know it was going to do that,” Roman says firmly, “and it was our fault we didn’t listen to you. So much that you felt that was your only option.”

Logan swallows. “…what about Janus?”

“What about him,” Virgil prompts, “the fact that he…came into the video?”

“It was my lowdowns that enabled him to do so.”

“And we pressed the ‘skip all’ button,” Roman says. “And I’m the one who gave him tips on how to impersonate the rest of us better.”

Roman is right, even as Logan begins to feel cold again. Still, he opens his mouth.

“I…I’m not…I can’t…it…”

“Logan,” Roman says quietly when Logan can’t seem to find the words, “none of us are angry with you. I’m certainly not angry with you, and I’m…I’m sorry about everything that I may have done and have done to give you the impression that I do not hold you in the highest esteem possible.”

Logan’s mouth drops open in shock.

“I think you overdid it a little there, Princey,” Virgil chuckles.

“But it’s true,” Roman insists, still cradling Logan’s hand in his lap, “Logan, you’re…you’re so important. And if I have done anything that makes you think I don’t care so much about you, then I…I will do everything I can to fix this.”

What?

“You…but we..we fight,” Logan manages weakly, “all the time, you…you disagree with me every chance you get, how—“

“I told you on movie night,” Roman says, the corner of his mouth tugging up, “I poke fun at the things I love.”

Love.

Logan’s brain stutters to a pause.

“You’re my family, Logan,” Roman continues, oblivious to the fact that Logan.exe has stopped functioning, please try again later, “and I…you are so clever, so sharp, so good that of course I want to talk to you about things. I respect your opinion so much and I want to hear everything.”

“Yeah, if you ever stop teaching us stuff I might actually start crying and never stop.”

“Virgil!”

“What, like you’re any better?”

“Of course not! I would be devastated!”

“Wait, wait,” Logan mumbles, “you—you what?”

“L,” Virgil calls softly, still chuckling a little as Logan turns to look at him, “L, we care about you so much. We wanted to give you space, especially after today, but…dude, you know we need you, don’t you?”

“You need Logic,” Logan mumbles, “you…of course you need Logic.”

“We do,” Roman confirms as the cold threatens to open up in Logan’s chest again, “but we also love Logan.”

“You have got to stop throwing that word around,” Virgil murmurs, “you’re gonna send him into a full-blown freak-out.”

“But we do, Virgil. We do love him, so much, and if he doesn’t know that…”

Roman squeezes a surprisingly solid hand in his lap.

“…then we have to remind him.”

Virgil huffs, scooting closer. “Yeah, well, that’s easy enough.”

No, no, it very much is not.

Logan’s brain is still struggling to come to grips with the first thing Roman said, about poking fun at the things he loves. He hasn’t come close to tackling the fact that Roman just said they loved him.

And Virgil agreed.

“This…this doesn’t make sense,” Logan says weakly, “this doesn’t make sense.”

“What doesn’t make sense?” Virgil’s hand is a warm weight against his side. “That we love you?”

“…y-yes?”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Virgil murmurs, “what makes you so convinced that you’re unlovable?”

“I…I can’t…I am emotionally compromised. I cannot do my job properly. I will not be as useful as you—“

“Do you need to be useful to be lovable?”

“Don’t you?”

“No,” he says firmly, pressing Logan between the two of them, “no, you don’t, Logan. We love you for you, not for what you can do.”

“Don’t leave us, Logan.” The sheer amount of pain in Roman’s voice aches. “Not because you think we won’t want you.”

A horrible laugh bubbles up in his throat. “And here I thought you were going to leave me.”

“Never,” Roman promises, “never.”

“We did threaten to break down your door because it was starting to fade from the hallway.”

“…I don’t know what’s happening to me.”

“You don’t need to know right now, we’ll help you.”

“I don’t know how good I’m going to be at this.”

“We’re all working on things, it’s okay.”

“But I—“ Logan swallows heavily— “I don’t know if I can stop believing that I…that it is just Logic you want and not Logan.”

“If it makes you feel any better,” Roman calls, squeezing his hand, “I still struggle with that too.”

Logan’s eyes widen. “You what?”

“Believe that you only keep me around as long as I make things that you think are useful?” Roman smiles sadly. “Yeah.”

“But you’re—you—Thomas would not be able to exist without you!”

“Wouldn’t he?”

“No! It’s not just—Roman, you’re so much more than Creativity, if you weren’t here, we…” Logan takes a deep breath and swallows. “Something would truly be lost if you weren’t here.”

He stops.

“…oh.”

“Yeah, Specs,” Roman whispers, “‘oh.’”

“…oh.”

“Come here, sweetheart,” he murmurs, opening his arms and letting Logan fall into his embrace, “don’t you leave us, okay?”

Virgil drapes himself over them, wrapping his arms tightly around Logan’s waist. “We’ll figure it out, L, but you gotta stick around, okay? Don’t—well, try not to worry about whether or not you’re being the perfect Logic. We want you.”

“…promise?”

“I promise.”

“I promise too,” Roman murmurs, letting Logan rest against his chest, “now why don’t we all get into something more comfortable and we can have another look at your neck?”

“Yes. That sounds…good.”

“And Logan?” Logan cranes his head up to look. “If you ever stop teaching us things and telling me about stuff I will start crying.”

Despite everything, Logan smiles.

“Don’t worry,” he says quietly, the chill finally beginning to thaw, “I’m not going anywhere.”

General Taglist: @frxgprince @potereregina @reddstardust @gattonero17 @iamhereforthegayshit @thefingergunsgirl @awkwardandanxiousfander @creative-lampd-liberties @djpurple3 @winterswrandomness @sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes @iminyourfandom @bullet-tothefeels @full-of-roman-angst-trash @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind @demoniccheese83 @pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious @firefinch-ember @fandomssaremysoul @im-an-anxious-wreck @crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch @enby-ralsei @unicornssunflowersandstuff @wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams @averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @such-a-dumbass

If you want to be added/taken off the taglist let me know!

#sanders sides #fic #dragonbabbles #logan sanders #logan angst #roman sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders #deceit sanders #logince #analogical #analogince

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stewblog · 3 years ago

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Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings

Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings more or less immediately became one of my favorite movies in the Marvel Cinematic Universe.

Some of this is due to it being one of the best American-made martial arts movies I’ve ever seen. Some of this is due to it delivering some incredibly cool moments and imagery, the likes of which we haven’t really seen much of in the MCU, much less in American filmmaking in general these days. But it’s due also in large part to the fact that the movie is consistently fun, funny, brimming with exhilarating action scenes and moves like a rocket. It’s just a genuinely great time at the movies and I found myself grinning from ear to ear for most of its (just over) two hour runtime. There are more than 20 MCU movies, and while I highly enjoy most of them, it definitely felt like it was time for Marvel to deliver something different than yet another costumed superhero outing. And that’s precisely what’s been done here with Shang-Chi giving audiences a straight-up kung fu adventure film.

In a way, the excellence of Shang-Chi as an action movie is bittersweet. The action scenes were designed and shot by Brad Allan, a brilliant martial artist who spent years as a member of Jackie Chan’s personal stunt team. He had truly come into his own as an action designer and choreographer but met an untimely death about a month before this film’s release. What he delivered here alongside director Destin Daniel Cretton is some of the most impressive hand-to-hand action I’ve seen in an American action film.

Marvel movies have had plenty of exciting and fun action scenes but, as is the case with so many Western films, the performers simply lack the training and capability to convincingly pull off what is shown off with aplomb in many Asian films. That is absolutely not the case here thanks to the exceptional skill shown off by the likes of Simu Liu, Tony Leung, Michelle Yeoh and nearly every other actor who throws hands (and feet). Allan may be gone, but he left a heck of a legacy on-screen here and it is absolutely exhilarating to watch. Capable, highly trained actors being filmed in wide shots without an excess of editing to cover up their inadequacies makes for exciting cinema. Who knew?!

Though it is brimming with excellent action, the heart of Shang-Chi is actually found in the familial drama driving the plot. Shaun (Liu) is a fairly typical 20-something in San Francisco. He’s mostly content to work his day job as a parking valet with his best friend, Katy (Awkwafina) before spending their nights carousing and doing karaoke. But after Shaun kicks the living tar out of a group of henchmen, including a guy with a literal sword for an arm, on a bus, Katy demands to know who her lifelong friend actually is. Turns out his real name is Shang-Chi and he’s actually the son of a history-defining warlord who’s been alive for thousands of years thanks to ten powerful, magical (possibly alien) rings who trained Shaun since childhood to be an assassin. Ya know, normal stuff.

Shang-Chi’s dad, Wenwu (Leung), thinks he’s found a way to enter the mystical, ancient city his wife hailed from. Though she died more than a decade ago, Wenwu is certain he’s heard her voice calling to him to set her free from captivity. Though he’s willing to fight and kill to do so, Wenwu mostly just wants to reunite his family, and he especially wants his son to take up the mantle of leading the Ten Rings, his millennia-old crime organization.

Shang-Chi is, as expected, not too hip to his abusive father’s plans, but there still clearly resides in him a desire to be loved and accepted by Wenwu. It’s that push and pull between the light and dark within him that drives Shang-Chi’s emotional journey as he slowly comes to realize he can’t ever fully run from or hide his lineage, try as he might.

Liu has been acting for the better part of a decade (I really need to check out Kim’s Convenience) but this is without question his breakout performance and he handles leading man duties well. He’s handsome and funny, and though his charisma is somewhat low-key, he’s able to project enough stoic gravitas that you can always get a sense of what he’s feeling. If nothing else, he’s primed for a string of action roles based on how superbly he pulls off each fight scene. It’s always thrilling to watch a performer pull off their own stunts and fight moves, but Liu brings a very visible energy to his combat.

The real treat here, though, is watching Tony Leung make his Big Hollywood Debut. Leung is one of China’s biggest movie stars and he’s given more than enough incredible performances in truly amazing films to cement his status as one of the all-time great actors. But there’s something uniquely fun seeing him not just let loose in a big budget blockbuster, but to do so and not water down his trademark intensity. Leung’s greatest skill has always been his ability to communicate so much with just his eyes, and that intensity and passion is on full display here. Whatever shortcomings the script might have barely matter because Leung tells you everything you need to know about Wenwu with just a look.

If there’s a major shortcoming here it’s that there are elements of the script that feel notably undercooked. In particular there’s a moment before the big finale where Shang-Chi is brooding over his father’s treatment of him as a child, questioning whether or not he’s still just the assassin he was raised to be. It feels like something from a different version of the script where that self-doubt played a much larger part than what made it to screen.

And, as seems contractually obligated in these movies, the climax culminates with a lot of Typical CGI Nonsense. Though at least here that Typical CGI Nonsense is delivering a look at some mythical beasties and imagery that we don’t often get in these sorts of movies.

None of those frustrating elements (not even the often horribly glaring use of green screen composite shots) detracts enough from the experience to make this anything less than a total blast to watch. I’ve come to accept that most Marvel movies are simply going to have frustrating or undercooked elements to them in one way or another. But even grading on that curve, Shang-Chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings still manages to feel like a complete, thrilling package, one that I can’t wait to watch again.

Author’s Note: If you walk out of Shang-Chi jonesing for some more Tony Leung, check out The Grandmaster if you want more of him doing kung fu. Watch In the Mood for Love if you want one of his best, most internalized acting performances. And watch Hard Boiled if you want to see him co-star in one of the greatest, most over-the-top action movies ever made.

#shang chi #shang-chi #marvel #simu liu #tony leung #tony leung chiu wai #michelle yeoh

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witch-hazels-musings · 4 years ago

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Trust

This story is a bit of my own ramblings and interpretation (Lumine, poor baby, I felt all this for you) of the chapter quest, “A New Star Approaches” -- while I am a sucker for the ‘rival to lovers’ trope… I really have a love hate relationship with Childe. His true character doesn’t show he has any kindness to the traveler, and, while other story missions with him seem to make him more appealing, I still can’t trust him. Anyway, here is another story.

Summary:

After fighting Childe in the Golden House, it’s revealed that Rex Lapis is still alive! And he’s none other than the Funeral Parlors own patron! Lumine’s trust is shattered, and she feels more alone than she did before.

Genre: angst / hurt

Potential Spoilers?*

Lumine x Childe / Zhongli

Lumine and Paimon rush through the doors of the Golden House, beads of sweat dropping to the floor. The large room is filled with piles of glittering mora, which Paimon can’t help but notice. After a quick reminder of why they were there in the first place, they can’t help but notice the surprising lack of millilith. A worry passes through Lumine as she spots the suspended body of Rex Lapis at the other end of the hall. With haste she runs toward the large dragon's body.

“Well, well …” Childe’s voice echos about the room. “I didn’t expect to see you both here. Shouldn’t you be bounding around Liyue looking for items for the ritual?’” His tone is dark, all the playfulness and gentleness he usually embodies replaced with annoyance. He ascended the stairs in front of the altar, stopping but a few feet in front of the two.

“I must thank you for your hard work though. If you hadn’t spent all that time setting up the, ‘Rite of Parting,’” he spoke the words as if they tasted bad in his mouth, “I wouldn’t have been able to gather all the information I needed.”

Lumine couldn’t wrap her head around what she was hearing, what she was seeing. Childe had been the one to help them, he saved her from the Millilith… he was a Fatui sure, but he was different… wasn’t he?

“You were planning on stealing the Gnosis from inside the Exuvia this whole time!?” Piamon shouted, her voice surrounding them in the grand hall.

“It is my duty after all…” he started, “the Tsaritsa gets what she wants.” With a sigh he placed his hands on his hips. His exasperation was apparent.

I can’t believe this, Lumine thought. The anger rising from her stomach into her throat. She had let her guard down, let this person close to her, and … trusted him. If he thought for one second he’d be able to take the Gnosis from this Archon, she was about to prove him wrong.

“I won’t let you …” she hissed through clenched teeth.

“Oh Comrad, I don’t need your blessing. If it were up to me we wouldn’t have gone through all the niceties in the first place.” His arms lifted into a shrug, a smile inching across his face.

“If you think you can win against me, you’re delusional.” The anger Lumine felt had moved from the pit of her stomach into every nook and cranny. Her hands tightened over her sword, the blood in her veins pumping in preparation of the fight she rightfully deserved. She was going to make sure he felt the pain she was experiencing. She only further cemented her nerve as Childe’s laughter faded into the deep shadows of the Golden House.

“Fighting talk,” he retorted, reaching for his weapons, “I love it!.”

And with that the silence of the Golden House was filled with the sounds of metal striking metal.

With one final strike, Lumine sends Childe rolling across the broken floor of the once pristine building.

“Wow, that was … unexpected.” He says through heavy breaths. “It’s been a long time since I had such a fantastic match like that.”

“This method of yours isn’t the best way to make friends,” Paimon states, her own irritation peaking through.

“Ha, well, yes. Anyway, it seems the Gnosis was never here in the first place.”

Paimon and Lumine look at eachother, confused. “What do you mean,” Paimon chimes in.

“It seems I was mistaken thinking you two would be involved in knowing anything about the Gnosis. Which tells me I might need to go back to the beginning, huh…” he says the last sentence under his breath, turning his head as if in deep thought.

“Are you … are you telling me Rex Lapis is alive!?” Lumine shouts, her heart still beating rapidly from the fight.

“Hmm, we just might see.” He said with a tired smile before summoning a whirlwind of sigils. “I guess we'll just have to call upon the Geo Archon another way! How about … with an old rival?” In a flash Childe was gone, the sigils surrounding him slowly faded away into nothing.

----

The sky began to clear and the rain, which only a few moments ago was pouring, had slowed to a soft drizzle. Members of the Adepti and Qixing stood at the dock looking out over the settling waves where they caught the last glimpses of the Jade Chamber dipping below the ocean.

With the present danger now quelled, there was still one last thing on Lumine’s mind. Who is Rex Lapis, and where is he? While the Adepti and Qixing members discuss their next moves for the Rite of Parting, Lumine set’s off to find Zhongli. He must have some clues as to where Rex Lapis could be hiding.

After receiving word from the receptionist at the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor that Zhongli headed to Northland Bank a few minutes ago, Lumine and Paimon reluctantly head there. If only she had prepared herself for what she’d find.

Upon entering Northland Bank, Lumine saw Signora, Childe, and Zhongli speaking together.

“What…?” the words fell out of her mouth upon seeing the three of them. Maybe she was imagining things? What could Zhongli have to do with Signora!? She was a Harbingers, and the worst of them all! “What is happening …” she stuttered, anger building in her stomach again.

Childe opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by Signora.

“You remember the agreement, Morax.” She stated, looking back at Zhongli. “Now, if you would be so kind,” she stretched out her hand, “the Gnosis please.”

“What in the world are you talking about!?” Paimon shouted, causing the other patrons of the Northland Bank to stare.

“The contract is now completed. That which thou seek is now bestowed upon you, as my promise is as solid as stone.” Zhongli’s words were void of emotion. His statements were matter of fact, as if he was simply explaining the reason why the sun rises in the morning.

Lumine took an unsteady step forward. “I don’t understand …”

“Are you saying you are Rex Lapis!?” Paimon took no time to voice her frustrations, and ask the question on their mind. “Why are you giving her the Gnosis!? She’s the bad guy!”

Lumine could see them talking, she could tell they were explaining something important, but she couldn’t seem to hear them. It was as if someone had turned on a radio in her head, and instead of playing the sounds of Zhongli’s voice, it was static. The only thing that seemed to turn the radio station back to the right channel was when she saw the Gnosis in his hand. It’s warm glow illuminating his skin, a soft hum filling the room.

Paimon was in shock, even more so as she watched the traveler make her way to the Geo Archon.

“Lumine?”

Lumine reached her hands out and wrapped them around Zhongli’s wrist. There weren’t very many people she would so easily touch. After losing her brother, unable to keep hold onto him as he was ripped from her hands, she found it difficult to cross that barrier. However, there was a desperation in her to make the connection.

“Lumine…” Zhongli didn’t seem taken back by the sudden physical contact, instead his voice seemed remorseful.

“Don’t … don’t give it to her.” Her voice was shaky, her hands trembled around his wrist.

“There isn’t much you can do, Comrad…” Childe started, his arms crossed.

“Don’t give it to her!!” Lumine shouted, which caught everyone off guard. It wasn’t like her to express her feelings in such an animated way. Her eyes we fixated on the golden gaze of the once Archon of Geo. “Please, not again. I can’t see this again.” Tears began to form in the corners of her eyes, her nose tickled from the sensation.

Zhongli sighed, placing his free hand over the trembling ones wrapped around his wrist. His touch caused Lumine’s grip to soften. “A contract is a contract; I cannot break my promise.”

With that Signora took the Gnosis, and made her way to the door, chuckling proudly to herself.

“Looks like you couldn’t protect another one, huh.” Her words were like venom, and stung Lumine in the heart. “Come, Childe.”

“Fine, but I’ll meet you there.” He mumbled, turning around and walking up the stairs to the second floor. With both of them gone, only Zhongli, Paimon, and Lumine remained. Her hands still grasping onto Zhongli’s arm.

“Lumine…” she could hear them call out to her, but she couldn’t respond. Her emotions trapped in her throat, blocking it up like a pipe filled with frozen water. Only the words in her head occupied her attention. I failed. I failed again. She felt a hand touch her shoulder which made her head snapped up. Zhongli and Paimon were looking at her, worry plastered on their faces

“Why…” she stammered, the blockage in her throat making it hard to speak, “I don’t understand why. I was … I was helping you. I did all that … and it meant nothing?”

“It didn’t mean nothing…” Zhongli started.

“It did. I couldn’t … I couldn’t stop them! Again! Why is it every time I can’t protect those around me?!” The shame building up inside of her. It was too much to bear, and there wasn’t anyone else to blame but her.

“Lumine, you did everything you could…” Paimon’s voice was sweet, but right now it felt like a jab in her side.

“Don’t.” Lumine backed away from them, tears spilling down her face. “Please, don’t…” she was so exhausted. Her body ached, her mind was cloudy, and after everything that had happened in the last several hours, she couldn’t take it anymore. “I’m sorry.” Was all she could say before running through the doors of Northland Bank and down the bustling streets of Liyue.

----

The next morning she awoke to the sounds of Liyue citizens going about their day. She didn’t remember making it back to her inn.

The last thing she remembered was sitting at the edge of the dock staring at the calm waters of the sea until it reflected the darkness of the night sky.

Her eyes were raw. They hurt when she rubbed the sleep from them. She looked around her room noticing things were not how they normally were. It dawned on her that she wasn’t in the inn, but somewhere else.

Next to her was a warm tub of water and a clean rag. Who could have left this? As she dipped the rag in the warm water, the memories of yesterday began to flood back to her. The fight at the Golden House with Childe, the battle on the Jade Palace, Zhongli turning out to be the Geo Archon, and her failure to stop another Gnosis from getting into the hands of the Fatui.

“Hey, you’re awake.” a voice called to her from the end of the bed. She turned to see Paimon floating with a small bag in her hands. “I brought you some of your favorite snack foods.” She said, drifting closer to Lumine’s side before resting on the bed herself.

“Thanks.” Lumine looked out the window, “where are we?” she asked, looking back at Paimon. The only person she met in this world who seemed to always be there for her. She so badly wanted to trust that Paimon would be there with her to the end, but after the events yesterday, well she wasn’t really sure if that would be true either.

“Wangsheng Funeral Parlor.” she began, opening the bag to present the goodies she purchased. Of course there was something in there for herself. “Zhongli and I found you by the dock late last night ... he carried you to his room.”

After how she treated him, how could he still show her so much compassion. “Is he here?” She asked.

“He went out a bit ago, but should be back later. He told us we could stay until we were ready to leave.” A reassuring smile appeared on Paimon’s face. “Hungry?” she asked before offering one of the snacks.

“Extremely.” Lumine replied, responding with a warm smile. “Thanks, Paimon.”

“Of course! Now, let’s see what other cool things the funeral parlor has to offer.”

“It’s a funeral parlor, Paimon. It’s accommodations are mostly for the dead…” Lumine chuckled.

“You never know! I’ll be right back, you say here!” She added before disappearing into, well, where she goes.

The sounds from outside were getting louder as the citizens of Liyue were becoming more active. Quietly, she made her way over to the window. Her body still aching from the battles of yesterday. As she looked down onto the streets, she wondered how they would feel if they knew what she knew. If they could imagine the pain of being alone while surrounded by so many friendly faces. Had they ever lost someone close to them; had they ever been betrayed by someone they thought they could trust? As she pondered on these items, she could feel the tears rolling down her face once more.

In the silence of Zhongli’s room she cried, “I trusted you ....” she covered her face from the outside world, “Aether, where are you… I can’t do this without you.” She sobbed as softly as she could, not wanting to disturb the happy citizens below.

Unbeknownst to her, the words she thought could only be heard by the passing wind were also caught on the ears of a certain Fatui harbinger. Childe leaned against the outside wall, hidden behind the decorative pillars on the second floor roof. His arms tightened around his chest as he listened to the sound of Lumine’s cries against the backdrop of laughing children and footsteps on cobblestone.

#genshin impact #genshin impact musings #genshin impact fiction #zhongli #genshin impact headcanons #genshin childe #childe #lumine #genshin lumine #lumine x zhongli #lumine x childe #lumine x zhongli x childe #genshin mc

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rax-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Romeo & Juliet

Fandom: Stranger Things Pairing: Steve Harrington x Reader Warnings: None Notes: Shoutout to my dear friend @mxgyver for the inspiration ♥

You had been best friends with Steve Harrington since you’d arrived at Hawkins Elementary in the fifth grade. A kid named Kevin had been bullying him on the playground, and although Steve had been doing his best to ignore the asshole, you found yourself incapable of doing the same. Kevin had intentionally screwed up the science project you’d been working that morning, purely because he thought it’d be funny to torment the new kid, and in the moment, you were so upset that you said nothing. The anger set in after he’d already walked off, laughing to his buddies about what he’d done. So, seeing him bully another innocent person made your blood boil, and before you knew it, you were chucking the basketball in your hands as hard as you could at the back of Kevin’s head.

Kevin flew forward from the unexpected impact, landing flat on his chest on the cement, which knocked the wind out of him. Steve’s jaw dropped as he looked from Kevin to you, meanwhile the ball rolled back over to you, and you picked it up to tuck it under your arm. When Kevin sat up and spun around to locate the culprit, the agitation on his face turned to fear as he locked eyes with you. Apparently the sheer rage in your 11 year old eyes did the trick to let him know you meant business.

“Look, Kevin, I don’t know you, and you don’t know me. But I do know that you’re just some jerk who thinks it’s fun to be mean to people for no reason. You’re a bully. And one thing you’ll learn about me is that I don’t like bullies. So, you really ought to be nicer to your classmates, or you’ll have me to deal with.”

The boy hesitated a moment, before he realized his friends were watching him, obviously expecting him to retaliate. He stood, then crossed his arms as he sneered at you, “Oh yeah? And what are you going to do about it?”

Whack!

The basketball hit Kevin square in the nose as he stumbled backwards, hands covering his face as he cried out in pain.

“That. That’s what I’m going to do about it.”

“You’re crazy!” Kevin yelled over his shoulder, as he ran off, his friends close behind.

“Yeah, and don’t you dare tattle on me, or a bloody nose of yours will be the least of your concerns!” you hollered, watching them retreat to the other side of the playground.

“Thanks for that,” Steve piped up then, and his tone seemed to be a mix of gratitude and bewilderment.

Shrugging, you explained, “Honestly, I mostly did it because he ruined my science project this morning. But also because I do really hate bullies.”

“Whatever the reason, I appreciate it,” Steve said with a chuckle. “Well, you’re obviously pretty good with a basketball. Wanna play HORSE?”

----------

That was 7 years ago, and Steve had been your best friend ever since. All through the remainder of elementary, middle school, and high school, the two of you had been inseparable. The two of you had shared a ton of fun and crazy adventures, as well as some hard times, and you were there for each other through it all. He had shown up on your doorstep 20 minutes after you called and told him about your boyfriend cheating on you, with a tub of ice cream in one hand and a Disney movie VHS in the other. Similarly, you had been there for him about three months ago, when Nancy Wheeler broke his heart.

You’d have never admitted it, but as you got older, you slowly began to realize that you liked him as more than a friend.

For years, you had pushed those feelings to the back of your mind. It didn’t matter how much you liked him; keeping Steve as your best friend was your top priority. You wouldn’t risk losing that. But, on one fateful evening, you found that you could no longer ignore how in love with him you’d fallen.

Your teacher was making your class do a miniature version of Romeo and Juliet as a senior project. Everyone had voted you and Steve as the leads, because you had such good chemistry – despite the fact that you’d spent ages telling people that you were just friends. And of course, the teacher wanted to include the scene where Romeo and Juliet kiss. You and Steve had both tried to talk her out of it, but she wouldn’t budge. So, that’s what led to your current situation: sitting in Steve’s living room on a Wednesday night, a short distance separating you on the couch, practicing your lines.

“O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do. They pray; grant thou, lest faith turn to despair,” Steve recited, then ran a hand over his face. “What the fuck does that even mean?”

“Hell if I know,” you muttered, sounding equally as confused as him, before continuing. “Saints do not move, though grant for prayers’ sake.”

“Then move not, while my prayer’s effect I take,” Steve said, then paused and cleared his throat. “And, uh… this is the part where they kiss.”

You could feel his eyes on you, but you kept your eyes glued to the script in your lap, not wanting to meet his gaze.

“Yep… so it is.”

“Do you… should we...?” Steve trailed off, then exhaled slowly, as if calming himself. “We could practice that part too… if you wanted?”

You looked up at him with wide eyes, and he backpedaled immediately.

“Actually, that’s a bad idea. That would be so weird. I honestly don’t even know why I said that. Forget this ever happened,” he rambled, waving a hand in the air exasperatedly.

“I mean…” you began softly, still looking at him despite the fact that he was now staring at the floor. “Ms. Myer made it clear that she wants us to stay true to the script. So we might as well get it over with now, rather than in front of the whole class.”

Steve glanced at you, and the two of you shared a few moments of eye contact before he exhaled again.

“No, yeah, you’re right. We should totally get it over with now. After all, it’s just for the play, right?” Steve said, with feigned nonchalance, and you nodded.

“Exactly! So we should just kiss now, rather than kiss for the first time in front of the entire class. But it’s totally not weird at all, since it’s just for the play. Obviously doesn’t change the fact that we’re friends.”

“Best friends!” Steve agreed earnestly, then ran a hand through his hair as he took a deep breath. “Alright, so, take two…. Then move not, while my prayer’s effect I take.”

Your eyes had been on your script when you felt his gentle fingers tilt your chin up to look at him. The two of you stared into one another’s eyes for a few moments, before Steve leaned in and pressed his lips against yours.

It was beyond everything you’d ever dreamed of – and you had definitely dreamed about it on more than one occasion. His lips were soft and sweet, and you instinctively leaned into him. But, far too soon for your liking, Steve pulled away, although only slightly. His face remained mere inches from yours, as he stared at you with an expression you couldn’t read.

“Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged,” he whispered, after a quick glance at the paper in his hands.

“Then have my lips the sin that they have took,” you responded breathlessly.

“Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged,” Steve responded, his voice still soft, before looking down at your lips. “Give me my sin again.”

You met his lips without hesitation as he bent down to kiss you once more, and his hand moved from your chin to cradle the back of your head, fingers burying themselves in your hair. Steve dropped the script to the floor, and moved his newly-freed hand to rest on your waist, as your own hands clutched the front of his shirt. The whole thing felt like a daydream, and in the moment, a white-knuckle grip on his shirt served as a way to ground yourself, a reminder that this was actually happening.

The kiss lasted far longer this time, his lips moving slowly and methodically against yours. After what felt like an eternity, you both broke the kiss to catch your breaths, and you realized then that your back was now against the couch and he was leaned over you, enveloping you in his embrace.

Steve rested his forehead against yours, breathing heavily – both from how long the kiss had lasted, and from the adrenaline of the fact that he’d just made out with his best friend.

“God, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” Steve whispered, then leaned back to get a better look at you. You smiled warmly at him.

“Ditto.”

“Why didn’t you then?!” Steve asked, surprised as a grin formed on his lips.

“I could ask you the same thing!” you retorted, laughing.

“Fair enough,” he conceded, matching your laugh. As your laughter faded, he grew more serious, although he still wore a small smile. “Truth is, I’ve been in love with you since the day I met you. At the time, I didn’t really have any close friends, so I just really wanted to be friends with you. Plus, I thought you were super cool, so I felt like you were out of my league, ya know, romantically.”

“You thought I was cool?” you asked with a chuckle.

“Of course I did! You were the first person to ever stand up to Kevin Matthews, and you did it on your fourth day at our school!”

The two of you shared more laughter, before he added, “Obviously, now I know you’re actually a giant nerd, so the coolness has worn off.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Anytime,” Steve replied, then scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “So, I guess you kind of feel the same way then, huh?”

“I suppose,” you teased, and he smiled. “I didn’t fall for you when I first met you, though. I don’t know exactly when I did…. I think it was freshman year. I remember watching your first baseball game of the season, and thinking you looked really hot in the uniform, especially when you ran over to me in the bleachers, all excited after you’d hit a home run. You were a little sweaty and your hair was messy and god, you looked so good. Then, a week or two later, I watched you flirt with some girl, and I remember getting really mad about it but couldn’t understand why. It took me like three days to realize it was jealousy, and that I’d caught feelings for you. The feelings only got stronger over time, and eventually, I realized I was in love with you. But I was too scared of losing you as a friend to do anything about it.”

“The toughest girl I know, scared of losing me?” Steve quipped, placing his hand on his chest and giving you an exaggeratedly shocked look. You rolled your eyes.

“Only because I love you, smartass.”

Steve grinned brightly, then resumed his previous position, looming over you on the couch as his arm wrapped around your shoulders and the other rested on your waist once again. His lips hovered over yours before he said, “I love you, too,” and kissed you.

The two of you spent the rest of the night just like that: making out on the couch, making up for lost time, the play now long forgotten.

#steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fan fiction #steve harrington fan fic #my writing

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masterhandss · 4 years ago

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HameFura LN5 - A Lady for Nicol (theory)

While we all love all the harem members for Katarina, but in the end she’s just one person and only one person can reign as the victor of her heart.

One of my most favorite theories/observations that came from the bakarina reddit discord is the importance of the “Lady” from Light Novel Volume 5, who was the main character alongside Nicol is their chapter in that book. The lady isn’t given a name or a physical description in her chapter which could indicate that her role is merely that of a plot device in order to prevent Nicol from giving up on Katarina’s hand. Her constant support and encouragement of Nicol’s feelings is what encourages him to continue pursuing her despite already graduating in the academy by Volume 5, cementing Nicol’s place in the harem, and yet for some people this chapter implied something else; feeling like this lady will be a contender for Nicol’s end-game love interest once Katarina chooses.

A few users on the discord pointed out how wonderful it would be for Nicol to end up with this Lady, given how strong and admirable her personality was build up to despite only appearing for a single chapter. She’s smart, honest, independent and can carry a conversation; which is a lot of traits that Nicol seems to like in a partner.

It is possible that this Lady will never be named and become her own character (unless the Second Season of the anime adapts his chapter and introduces her to everyone as a filler scene), but it is still possible for her to return as a future candidate for Nicol’s partner as the series eliminates the competition for Katarina’s heart.

Despite all this though, who could really say that we don’t know this character yet?

I propose that as of Volume 9 (the most recent JP release of the novels), we already know who the Lady from Volume 5 is!

It’s all just a matter of observation/elimination!

Spoilers for the light novels and a lil bit from the webnovel!

Edit (2/13/21): I added a lil more!

I believe that the identity of the Lady that Nicol met during his matchmaking meetings is none other than Fray Randall, the student council president of the Magic Academy in Volume 6.

Quick note, J-Novels translated Fray’s name to “Fray Landoor”, but its supposed to be Fray Randall. I mean without even pulling out the kanji for Fray’s surname, you read it out loud ‘Landoor’ as “Ran-do-ru” in japanese, in the same way you’d read ‘Randall”. Regardless if you pull out a raw version of the novels or google translate both surnames, you get the same characters of “ランドール“, proving that Fray is from the Marquis of Randall. The connection is even more undeniable considering the fact that Fray is described as a girl with black hair and blue eyes in LN6, just like Suzanna.

Part 1 - Fray and the Lady

First, lets establish what we know about the Lady:

She is from a high ranking family

She is a member of the Student Council in Katarina’s final year in the Academy (an underclassman that is close with Katarina)

She gives an allusive, strong and resilient impression

She is very intelligent, talented and has a high magical aptitude (evident in the fact that she is in the Student Council)

She is very curious and perceptive about other people

She admires Lana Smith (Suzanna Randall)

She is very supportive of Nicol’s feelings for Katarina

She has no intention of marrying and wants to work independently in the Magic Ministry

She is the 5th and last candidate for Nicol’s fiancee

Before going to Fray, I just want to establish something for those who do not know: Light Novel Volume 6 isn’t the first time we’ve seen Fray. She, as well as her best friend Ginger, are already well established characters even before the Volume 5 was published, because those two characters comes from an extra web novel chapter that was not adapted into the first arc (the first two books) of the novels. The extra chapter is called “About the Duke’s Daughter” which tells the tale of Ginger Tucker’s experience of meeting Katarina. The chapter itself doesn’t introduce anything new about Fray, other than the fact that the Randalls are a Marquis Family, but the chapter will come up again later.

Now, lets establish what we know about Fray Randall:

She is from the Marquis of Randall, a high ranking family

She is the next president of the Student Council in Katarina’s final year in the Academy (an underclassman that is close with Katarina)

She is well-mannered, polite and charming

She is very intelligent, talented and has a high magical aptitude (evident in the fact that she is in the Student Council)

She is quite perceptive when it comes to the feelings of her tsundere friend Ginger

She is most likely related to Suzanna Randall (as they share the same last name; either sisters or cousins)

She is very supportive of Ginger’s feelings for Katarina

I probably don’t need to make a chart to emphasize the similarities of these two characters (but i’ll still compare anyways). I know not everything lines up, especially when it comes to their personality. We haven’t seen too much of Fray to write a perfectly accurate description of her, all we know is that she behaves like a perfect noblewoman in front of others but is also quite cheeky when it comes to teasing her friend Ginger about her admiration for their Katarina-senpai.

That isn’t to say that there are no other similarities between them! Nicol has noted a few times how smart sounding and well-mannered the lady is, which while does apply to most ladies, it should still be considered. Both Fray and the Lady have perfect etiquette, but has a more energetic and outspoken personality. The Lady reminds me a lot of Suzanna Randall, and that comparison makes me feel like the Lady could be Fray, because of how likely it is that Suzanna’s little sister/cousin could be as brazen and independent as she is.

Both Fray and the Lady are open minded people. the Lady does not care about the existing culture of high society and wants to act independently. Fray does not care about the culture of high society and accepts Ginger despite her normal appearance and low status.

Both Fray and the Lady as very supportive of another’s characters feelings for Katarina, aka Ginger and Nicol respectively. Both characters insisted that their friends accept their feelings of love/admiration, and to act on them. Anyone who has seen either the web novel chapter knows that Fray and Ginger are very close to Katarina and the harem, which is important because the Lady specifically got all the tea about Nicol liking Katarina from Sophia.

Both Fray and the Lady are from high ranking families. Specifically, Fray is a Marchioness, which is a rank higher than Nicol.

Speaking of the Marquis of Randalls, the Lady has voiced her admiration about her idol: a woman who works for the Magic Ministry but isn’t of a high ranking family. She is most likely talking about Lana Smith (aka Suzanna’s alter ego). The Lady mentions that her family highly opposes her desires to work in the Ministry and insists that she marries instead.

Suzanna in Volume 3 and 4 implies the same things: despite her desires to study magic, she is forced by her parents to attend matchmaking events in order to find a fiancée (which ended up becoming Geoffrey) and it is not hard to surmise that her family is one of the reasons she hides her identity in the Ministry. If Fray is from the same family, then she will most likely be receiving the same treatment.

We cannot say whether of not the Lady admiring Lana Smith is an indication that she knows who Lana is. There is the possibility that the Lady admires Lana but isn’t aware of her identity at all, but there’s also the possibility that the Lady does know who Lana is and gave Lana’s fake story as to not blow her cover. If the Lady really is Fray, then both sides of the theory can do wonders for her character.

Both Fray and the Lady are smart and magically-talented, as you can tell by the fact that they are both in the Student Council. In fact, Fray is so smart and talented that she will eventually succeed Gerald as President in the Magic Academy! Doesn’t that remind anybody of a certain Randall who is also a prodigy?

Part 2 - Katarina’s Underclassmen in the Student Council

Speaking of the Student Council, one of my key arguments as to why I think Fray Randall is Nicol’s Lady from Volume 5 is because of the web novel chapter “About the Duke’s Daughter” featuring Ginger. In the light novels, Fray was introduced in Volume 6 while the Lady is introduced in Volume 5. Since the web novel chapter was never published, LN6 is the new introductions of Fray and Ginger.

In the anime and light novels, it is identified that in Sirius and Nicol’s batch, there were 7 members of the student council (Sirius, Nicol, Girl 1, Girl 2, Boy 1, Boy 2 and Boy 3), and in Katarina’s batch there is 6 student council members (Gerald, Keith, Alan, Mary, Sophia and Maria). With that we can assume that their is typically 6-7 new freshmens to join the student council every year (push it to 6-8 if you want but I’m going with 7)

First draft of my fan designs for Ginger Tucker and Fray Randall btw :DD

I made Fray look too sweet in this doodle, she’s a sass-pants I swear!

Like I already said before, both Fray and the Lady are members of the student council, who are close to Katarina. Knowing only the light novels, one might assume that it is impossible to determine how many members Fray and Ginger’s batch of council freshmens are, but in reality its pretty easy.

I’m not going to say that out of the freshmens, Katarina is only close to Fray and Ginger, since they are the only ones to show up in Volume 6, but I will agree that it is likely. If we go by the estimates of 6-8 council members per batch, we’ll go in the middle and say that Ginger’s batch has 7 student council members as Katarina is in her final year.

In the web novel chapter “About the Duke’s Daughter”, there is a scene where Ginger is being bad mouthed by 3 of her female peers in the student council room. Here’s the scene from the web novel chapter (in Ginger’s POV):

There was something I didn't understand in class that day so after visiting the teacher, I went to the student council room and arrived later than usual. Then some of the same classmates, who were members of the student council seemed to be ahead, and I heard voices talking from inside.

'What's with her attitude! I'm so angry at her, that Ginger Tucker." "Indeed! What can we even do about her?" "Being so prideful just because she's a little smart"

I unintentionally pulled my hand from the door handle. This is a scene I can't enter.

So it can't be helped. It was then that I thought I should wait a little before entering.

"I don't think Ginger is like that at all"

Perhaps she was there the entire time, as now a voice of a third-party spoke in between their angry voices.

"K-Katarina-sama? Were you here this entire time?" In a surprised voice, it turns out the those girls were not aware of Katarina's presence.

With this we can identify 5 out of 7 of the student council members, with the final two we can assume that they are either two guys or one guy and one girl (but its most likely the prior.

We would have <Ginger, Fray, Girl 1, Girl 2, Girl 3, Boy 1 and Boy 2>.

But that begs the question, who is the Lady? Is there only 1 male student in the freshmen batch of the student council, with the Lady filling that last spot, or is the Lady among the 5 girls we’ve established? Or are there 8 student council members instead? I don’t need to answer my own questions, you do the math :))

Of course there’s the possibility that the author is disregarding this webnovel chapter and creates a new freshmen batch from scratch, but while The Lady nor Fray has yet to be adapted into the manga and anime, i’ll take this as a win for me.

Edit (2/13/21): A thought just occurred to me while reading the japanese wiki!

Ginger, in the webnovel chapter, has made it perfectly clear that she wants to join the Ministry to become independent. The “Lady”, in Volume 5, has made it perfectly clear that she wants to join the Ministry to be like her idol, Lana Smith (Suzanna Randall).

With that in mind, doesn’t that increase the chances of the “Lady” being Fray Randall?? because the two best friends want to eventually join the Ministry and join their senpais and idols??? it wouldn’t make sense if it was Ginger and another character from the student council third batch that we don’t know of!

Anyways, that's it for this hamefura theory. I might edit this if there's new information to come around. With the announcement of the Second Season, there’s a very high possibility that this chapter will be adapted as filler. It is possible that we will meet this lady, or maybe even Fray, whichever comes first.

The Lady most likely is just the plot device though, but we do what we can with what we have lol.

Regardless if this theory is correct or not, I think I made a pretty strong case! Thank you for reading!

#mh talks #my next life as a villainess #hamefura #hamehura #bakarina #destruction flag otome #otome game no hametsu flag shika nai akuyaku reijou ni tensei shiteshimatta #nicol ascart #katarina claes #hamefura theory #fray randall #suzanna randall #my next life as a villianess all routes lead to doom

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roses-ruby · 5 years ago

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sinner;

Jungkook x Female Reader

Genre: Cop AU, An onslaught of Angst, Thriller, Mature

Warnings: Obsessive/Possessive behavior, Toxic relationships, Yandere, Stalking, Emotional and Physical abuse, MiSoGYny, Violence, Bad parents, Bad cops, Kidnapping

Word Count: 11,000

Summary: No matter where you run, the past will find you.

The dark clouds approached along the light blue fabric of the sky.

You watched them from your car window, dreading the downpour you’d have to drive home through tonight. With a sigh, you open the door and step out of your 2012 Hyundai Accent, planting your soles firmly onto the cemented parking lot. Your rustic car shakes with the loss of weight and the door creaks at the hinges once you slam it shut.

Somehow the old you had managed to entertain yourself with the thought that receiving a promotion would ultimately be able to afford you a better car, but no – you were stuck with the same failing engine, same worn out tires, same chipped paint aside the right headlight and occasional oil leaks.

Old you was a fool, you think, placing your hands in your coat pocket and walking towards the station in a swift, rigid pace. The air was chilly, and the strong breeze hit your face in unpleasant streaks. You kept your head down, arms clinging to the sides of your body to warm you up. There were barely any people outside the station, just a couple of men in blue quickly ensuring victims or witnesses. Years on the force had given you the eye to spot the differences between your average citizen and a perp with ease.

Perps always had an emptiness in their gaze. A vacant spot that erased their crime from their own mind. Defense mechanism they call it. You weren’t a stranger to that emotion yourself.

With no time to waste, you rush up the steps. As you pull the door of the station open, your ears are immediately filled with chatter, paper clatter and ringing phones. More importantly your body is filled with warmth. Like it was memorized in your head, you sift through the desks and file cabinets with ease, trudging past several rushing bodies on your way to a hallway down the right. Reaching the end of the corridor, you see the four men you were expecting through the clear glass window in front of their room. They were laughing at something one of them had said, a laughter that came to a full stop the moment you burst into the chief’s office.

All eyes were on you.

“There you are, detective! Right on time.” The chief, a charismatically aged character, calls out your last name as he leans back in his creaky leather chair.

“Not like she has anything better to do…” Hyun, the Sergeant’s younger partner, remarks underneath his breath.

“It’s my day off chief…this better be good.”

“Why? Did you have a date?” You catch Hyun’s sarcastic eyes before he bursts into a fit of laughter at your unamused face.

“Like you ever get laid.” Jimin scoffs at him with a raised eyebrow from the opposite side of the room.

“Motherfucker I got laid last night!” Hyun shouts like that was the funniest thing he’s said while Jimin holds back his growing smile.

“Yeah? Your asshole still hurt?” Sarge slams Hyun in the back as they all break out into mutual cackles. Hyun fights back by pushing his older partner into a cabinet while making derogatory remarks.

You try not to scowl at the suffocating testosterone in the air as you watch the boys play around.

“All right, all right, quiet down.” The chief shouts, rubbing his forehead wrinkles with his fingers and looking back at you like he suddenly remembered you exist. “___- uh…we got a little situation for you.”

He reaches to the left of his desk and picks up a file before throwing it up ahead on the table. There was a sudden coating of thick silence around the room as your eyes roam from the detectives scrutinizing you, back to the thick manilla folder thrown out in front of you. You carefully walk up to where the file laid, picking it up and examining the name on the small name card clipped at the top left.

“Jeon Jungkook?”

You question in surprise. Your orbs fly from the chief’s empty face to the white name card.

“How much do you know about Jeon?” The chief asks slowly. You recognize that tone of voice. That tone you’ve witnessed multiple times in interrogation with a suspect. The aura in the room felt strange.

You drop the file to your side so you can look the chief right in the eyes.

“What do you mean? I know that he’s the most accomplished assassin-for-hire to this date. I know that he has his dirty hands everywhere across the East. I know that he’s responsible for Asia’s most influential triad trade. I know that he’s taken down too many of our own and I know he should be jammed into a cage for the rest of his life, chief.”

The chief exhaled, some tension leaving his facial features as he leans further back in his chair and shuts his eyes. You studied the man in pity. Was this how you were bound to end up in a few years? Bald, stressed, only black coffee in your system, suspicious of everyone and everything with a failing marriage and kids who won’t speak to you?

Half of that was actually how you lived like right now.

“I’m sorry, ___. You know how many rumors there are of officers under Jeon’s thumb. Patrollers, lieutenants, even agents…they are all chummy with that bastard. I can’t help but be careful.”

“What do you mean? What does this have to do with me, chief?” You furrowed your eyebrows, still not understanding what was happening or why you were called in on your day off for an ‘urgent’ matter.

“We caught him.” Sarge interjects, “Tip came in this morning about a deal in the abandoned mill off the northwest. He surrendered as soon as we showed up, no casualties.”

You couldn’t stop your mouth from dropping. Did you hear that correctly? Jeon Jungkook, who had been on the world’s most wanted list for 6 years now just happened to be caught in your city, at the abandoned mill in the middle of the day? It was hard to believe but Sarge didn’t seem like he was joking.

“T-that’s great…w- is he in custody right now? Here?”

“He is. But we have a problem though…” You look back at the chief who was staring right at you. “He won’t talk.”

“I mean we expected that, right? He did the same thing in Hong Kong. Wha- is...is he pleading the fifth or-”

“That’s the thing, he surrendered but didn’t make any attempts to cooperate, he’s just been sitting stationary on his ass for 3 hours. The deputy had to phone it in as soon as he got here, so Kane’s bound to show up at any minute. They’ll take him away to some fucking facility and we’ll just have to stick out our tongues and wag our tails while the big boys do the real work. Damn! We couldn’t find jack shit when raiding the fucking mill!” The chief rambled, still massaging his forehead like he had a headache. “And that deadly weapon expert? All he had on him was an old handkerchief.”

He snorted but there was no amusement in his voice. But suddenly his vigor died down and his eyes stared off into the distance.

“…There’s only one thing he said the entire time he’s been in that interrogation room.”

“…What did he say?” You ask carefully, noticing the way everyone present was glaring holes into you.

“He said he’ll only speak to you.” The chief leans towards you, placing his elbows on his desk with his eyes slightly squinting and an unspoken question on his lips.

Suddenly the room turns cold and you feel like you were outside in that freezing chill once again. Your mind runs a mile a minute and your skin breaks out into goosebumps. It all makes sense just then. The threatening atmosphere, the stare downs, the discerning. They all had one question staining their mind. Why would the world’s most powerful hitman and black arms dealer want to talk to some random low-grade rookie detective?

Hell, you didn’t know yourself.

“Me? Why would he want to speak to me?”

“He said he knows you.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from scoffing. That was ridiculous. If you met someone like Jeon Jungkook before, you would remember it…wouldn’t you?

“Chief, I’m telling you, I don’t know what he’s talking about.”

“Then how could he know your full name?” Hyun interrupts

You glare at him from your position in the middle of the room. “How am I supposed to know dumbass?”

He smirks, his disgusting gaze sharpening. “Maybe he just knows how to sniff out the cunts.”

“Watch your fucking mouth Hyun.” Jimin steps between you both in a flash. He was facing away from you, but you could tell he was pissed by how he clenched his fists. Hyun scoffs, the corner of his lips picking up.

“I sniff two.”

It all happens in the blink of an eye. Jimin tries to leap at him but you barely manage to hold your partner back by the shoulder. Smart mouth also gets up from where he was leaning before Sarge rushes up to the younger. They both glare at each other like they were ready to kill while you grimace looking at each of their loaded holsters. The fact that these men were allowed to open carry was the most terrifying part.

“Enough!” The chief shouts, standing from his desk, “Hyun learn how to shut your yap hole for once, and Park, I need you to back off. There’s already a lot of tension in this room cause of Jeon…let’s handle that motherfucker first, officers.”

He warns Jimin to which you hold him tighter, whispering at him to let it go. Eventually the blonde simmers down – they both do, and you watch the way the chief exhales defeatedly.

“___, is there any reason at all- anything you can think of- and really think now, all the way back to before you transferred here- as to why Jeon Jungkook would want to speak to you? Why he would say he knows you?”

“None, chief.” You state calmly. There was nothing to think about, you didn’t know him.

The man stares at you for a moment before nodding. “Alright then, officer. I’ll need you in that interrogation room immediately. Maybe you can find an answer to this whole mess of a situation.”

“What the hell chief?” Hyun immediately complains, “I brought him in! I should be the one questioning him! You can’t just do that to me-” He growls, stepping up to the boss’ desk.

“Shut it!” Sergeant smacks the back of his big head while you breathe through your nose to keep calm.

Hyun always made his dislike for you obvious. It was difficult to pinpoint the exact reason he hated you because there were one too many. You were a stickler for rules and tradition, a woman (more specifically a woman who has made more arrests than him), and not the type to try and fit in. He hated how you didn’t fall in line and mostly kept to yourself – private and introverted. Whatever, you didn’t give a fuck about what he thought of you. Although you were used to Hyun’s moronic nature, it was still rarely this chaotic and tense in your station. Everyone seemed to be at one another’s neck. The most thrill you all had was capturing a local drug dealer a few years back.

But then again, Jeon Jungkook was far from your average criminal.

“You were in there for 2 and a half fucking hours with the captain himself, Hyun. What did you get out of it?” Chief groans

“I-I just need a little more time, just a li-”

“Time we don’t have!” The older man yells at the top of his lungs. “I know you’re the one who cuffed him and I’m real happy for that 20 second thrill you got but you can’t just get your panties in a twist when things don’t go your way. ___ here is just as capable of an officer as you. If she can get him to talk and we can gain some info on him and his little gang before those FBI pigs show up – just think of what that could mean for the team…”

Hyun scowled at the elder for a minute before contemplating on what was just said. Pursing his lips, he took a step back with a face that screamed defeat. “Yes, chief.” He mumbles.

“Good. Now ___,” The attention was once again placed on you. “We don’t have much time. Get out there and find out what that son of a bitch is thinking.”

“Yes, chief.”

“But listen, this man knows your name meaning it’s safe to say he knows your identity. He’s smart and he’s dangerous. Don’t get caught in any of his traps. We’ll be listening from the other side of the wall so if you feel like something’s off, signal us at any time, alright?”

His order had all the men in the room frowning for different reasons. Jimin had on his usual concerned face and even Sarge seemed worried. The thought of any stranger knowing your identity terrified you. But these were the last people on earth you would tell that to. You paid their disturbed expressions no mind as you nodded in determination, pulling your posture straight and holding your head up high.

“Yes, chief.”

You clench the file towards your chest.

There was an unsettling feeling you felt standing outside the door of interrogation room 4. Same one you had felt the first time you became a detective and were ordered to interrogate some big burly guy who had slashed his ex-girlfriend’s tires. Even though you thought you had left your past behind, here it was, surrounding you in an uncomfortable heat. This wasn’t just some petty thief who robbed a local convenience store or some middle-aged man who tried to choke his wife to death.

No. This was much, much bigger than that.

Jeon Jungkook, also known as JJK was a notorious hitman with several successful operations carried out around the world. In Washington, Libya, Hong Kong, Brazil and even Rome. He made the most wanted list when he was only 19 and was infamous for getting the job done. None of the men in his list survived…ever. Not only was he a perfectionist in his handiwork but also knew how to deal with the preparation.

A master of weapons; he could operate a H&K P7 in his sleep and take down 10 operatives with a single combat knife. His knowledge of artillery made him a big deal amongst the triads so setting up a little side business as a black arms dealer was a walk in the park for him. He was strong, fast, smart and feared. Not even the finest could catch him and at times months would go on by without a sighting.

Yet suddenly…he was just behind this door.

And who did he desperately want to see?

You.

By name.

Of all people.

Now you consider yourself a logical person. Someone guided by intellect before anything else. You did the math, worked on the equation, pondered on the systematics but nothing clicked. Nothing. There was absolutely no reason for someone like him to want to meet you but then again, the whole situation was the strangest fucking thing you’ve seen.

Surrendering at an abandoned mill in your jurisdiction would be the last place you’d think Jeon Jungkook would be captured. In your mind, his destiny was meant to end on a grander scale at the edge of the world. Some Hollywood theatrical-like bullshit where they would have him cornered on some rooftop with multiple choppers and snipers ready to take him down. This however – the threatening but anticlimactic atmosphere… it didn’t make any sense. Not for someone as careful and calculated as Jungkook.

For some reason, it just felt like he was waiting on something…something big to happen. A sensation of doom coursed throughout your body. Everything about today felt wrong. Like you and your colleagues were caught right in his talons.

By far, the most bizarre part about the situation was how he knew your name and you. You’ve always kept such a lowkey profile, it just didn’t make any sense.

“___?” The sound of your name startles you and you whip towards your side to see your partner dressed in his usual face of worry. “You alright?”

“…I’m good.” You choke out, trying to sound as lucid as possible.

It doesn’t seem to convince him however as he tilts his head and frowns at you.

“Listen, if you don’t want to talk to him, you don’t have to. Chief shouldn’t have pushed you into this bullshit – why do we even have to listen to what a criminal wants anyway? I-”

“Jimin, calm down. I’m fine.”

“Bu-”

“Your mollycoddling doesn’t help as much as you think it does, Park.”

Your words seem to have surprised him, his stubborn expression morphing into denial.

“That’s…I didn’t mean…”

You shut your tired eyes, feeling bad about the way you spoke to your only friend at the station. This is exactly why everyone thought you were way too rigid and unapproachable. Jimin however was too much of a nice guy, always going out of his way to make friendly with you. It always made you wonder – why would a well-liked, popular and talented guy such as Jimin want to hang around you or even ask the chief to be your partner? Maybe it was pity he felt for you.

That feeling was not something you desired. It left a nauseous impression down your throat. All you wanted was to do your job the best you could, go home, take your pills and sleep your days away. You didn’t want anyone’s kindness or company, you just wanted it to be over. Park Jimin’s sincerity was a hindrance.

“I’m sorry it’s just…I’m real tired of getting treated like this. I get it, I’m a woman and somehow that means I’m a less than, a cause for concern or just a fucking HR liability. I fucking get it without every single one of you reminding me every damn day.”

“You know that’s not what I meant, ___.” Jimin stares at you apologetically

“Then please, Jimin. Let me do my job.” You hold his stare until he eventually sighs, giving you a nod and retreating.

Once he walks away, you let out a shaky exhale, reaching towards the door handle with trembling fingers. Get it together, you whisper to yourself. After all the tough talk, the truth was you weren’t ready. You were scared shitless. Maybe Hyun was right about you.

Maybe your father was.

Drowning out every negative thought, you turn the door handle and push the door open.

You were immediately greeted by the usual silent man on the interrogation chair. His dark orbs were soundlessly watching the wall ahead of him. When you step into the room, he turns his head to look at you. Once he notices you, he instantly breaks out into a smirk. Clenching your file harder, you physically stop yourself from shivering.

You had seen him before, in blurry internet sightings and news coverages. But never up close and personal…and never smiling. It was like you entered a whole different world; the room you were pretty familiar with felt like a surreal fantasy. He was drop dead gorgeous. Lethal, you could say. His face was round, and features were sharp. A prominent nose, pink lips, sharp jaw and intense, smoldering eyes. Midnight black hair shyly covered his temple as he sat upright and confident in his chair.

He was dressed rather casually – a dark blue denim jacket that molded around his muscles and black top that covered his long neck. Tight fitted black pants that were ripped at the knees, displaying his thick, strong thighs and the heaviest leather boots you’ve ever seen. His hands were cuffed to the table so everyone can see them at all times. All he did was sit still but somehow commanded your whole attention. You gulped involuntarily at the sight before you.

You’ve never seen a man more comfortable in his own skin.

When he notices you ogling, he raises a brow in amusement. It alarms you, your eyes shooting to the large mirror on the other side of the wall. They were probably watching you…waiting for you to mess up.

Not wanting to throw them anymore bones, you clear your throat. Walking in and sitting down opposite to Jungkook. You don’t give him the time of day, pretend not to notice his bottomless orbs following your every move as you flip the file open a couple pages. As you continue to ignore him, you swear you could hear him tsk under his breath.

“So… Jeon Jungkook. Aged 23. Professional hitman. Side arms dealer. Wanted by the CIA, FSB, NSA and the Navy seals. Says here you’ve pissed off a lot of people, Jungkook.”

This was routine. The lighthearted police tone you always used. Very rarely would officers come off strongly when interrogating perps unless they were fucking morons. It was better if everyone just cooperated like this was an elementary school’s playground and none of the children got violent. Perps had to feel comfortable enough to spill it all. Being approachable, calm and levelheaded was normal for an efficient detective.

It was normal.

But it didn’t feel normal. You found yourself cringing at your voice, at the way you spoke. Your words felt so out of place and awkward. For some reason, you were hyper aware of everything you were doing. Maybe it was because you were under Jungkook’s extremely scrutinizing gaze or maybe because you knew Hyun was probably sounding out some sarcastic remarks about your abilities behind that mirror. Whatever it was, you didn’t feel good. Yet you continued on like everything was fine.

“You’ve been quite the busy boy, haven’t you?” You continue on, flipping through the file and swallowing the uneasiness.

“Like you wouldn’t believe, doll.”

His pet name for you stops you in your tracks. In the middle of turning a page that hung in midair. Slowly, you look up at him from beneath your lashes and he has on that same damn smirk. Stress-free posture and concentrated gaze. Looks like he was comfortable.

“…Really? Mind telling me about it?”

He continues to stare at you for a moment before letting out a humorous sigh. Jungkook leans forward, resting his elbows on the table and rolling his tongue in his cheek.

“What would you like to know?”

“Whatever you have for me.” You reply back, leaning in and using in the same low tone he used. Mirroring the suspect, playing the game. No matter how shaken you were, you knew how to do your job.

Another smirk appears on his face before he props back on his chair.

“Mhmm, I don’t know how much I can tell you doll. We all have secrets you see, we all got someone to fool. Like you right now.”

As his words settle in, you become confused. And by the way he chuckles, you know he can see it.

“That face you have on, that cute look of determination. Flipping through those pages like you’re learning something new about me. Something that I myself might not know. Like you didn’t already memorize it front to back, way before you came in here...those eyes that are desperately trying to win us over…like you have so much to prove still.”

You were thrown off. The way he unflinchingly delivered his speech in the most persuasive way. There was a certain way you had expected this to go in your mind, a certain power your brain gave you over him but now you realize all your thoughts were dust. In reality, you couldn’t comprehend what the fuck he was going on about which gave him the upper hand.

Thus, you looked into his eyes for an answer. Genuine eyes that shone as clear as day. It made you realize that he had nothing to hide. There was nothing he was trying to erase.

It left you speechless.

Your face must have been very obvious because next thing you knew, he was answering the question that lingered your thoughts.

“Your uncertainty gives you away. I guess it’d be present in anyone who’s constantly been made to feel inferior. All your life, you’ve had to go above and beyond to be considered half as good as your colleagues with dicks. No matter how much pain and humiliation you’ve endured, everyone expects more from you. It would drive anyone mad.” He moves in further, practically whispering at this point. “It could make anyone commit sinful acts.”

“…sinful?”

“My mother used to tell me about them,” He relaxes back in his chair, “…before she left that is. She was big on religion so she’d tell me all about these people who did bad deeds- sinner, she would call them. She’d go on and on about how they look and how they act. How they don’t have a place in this world amongst the good, non-sinners. We’d know exactly how to identify them, wouldn’t we doll?”

In the bright center of interrogation room 4, your pools were glued on the stranger that knew too much but let on too little. Jungkook was the one in cuffs, but you were the one who was starting to feel trapped.

“You don’t know me. We’re not the same.” You said out loud.

He turns silent for a moment, before grinning. “I think we’re more alike than you are aware of, detective.”

“Don’t fall for any of his traps.”

“W-” You swallow, “We’re not here to talk about me…”

You tried sounding as rational and self-assured as before, but your voice was barely above a murmur. And after you spoke, he smiled. His smile was way too innocent compared to who you knew he was.

“So, you want to know about me?” He chuckled “What do you want to know?

This was your chance, you thought, surprised at how easily he seemed to be ready to change the subject matter. You began flipping through the folder nonchalantly again, trying to get back on track.

“How about you start at the mill. Who were you meeting with so early in the day, Jungkook?”

Suddenly, his eyes darken and the look on his face becomes sinister, but that smile never falls. You couldn’t help but shift in your seat at his unexpected gaze.

“If you really want to know about everything that led up to this morning…then we’d have to look back quite a bit. Maybe back years ago…to a kid whose mother was never around and whose father beat the living shit out of him twice a day.”

He throws his head back and breaks out into a laugh at your unimpressed face. You were all ears but the last thing you wanted to do was spend an uncomfortable hour or two in here. The man creeped you out, so if he could just hurry up and get on with it, maybe you could go finish your nap and forget about today.

“Okay, okay, hah,” He sits back up straight, trying to conceal his laughter, “We don’t have to go that far back, but yeah this kid had it hard. But he was never one of those cucks. As he grew older, he couldn’t just sit there and take it. No…it wasn’t like that for him…he had to fight back, and he did fight for what he could, no matter what it took. He-”

“Open this fucking door you little freak!”

The door’s pounding shook the whole room. His anxiety was through the roof as he watched the weak wood quiver each time the monster banged against it. It could break at any moment now and he was afraid. He always, always acted tough. Always fought back the best he could. But the truth was that he was just a skinny teenaged brat.

He didn’t want to fight. He wasn’t built for it.

“Fuck off!” The kid tried to sound as menacing as possible, but it came out a pathetic whimper and only seemed to anger the man on the other side of the locked door even further.

It was hilarious really; the kid couldn’t help but leak tears. He hadn’t eaten in days, it was his 4th beating of the week – he felt lightheaded and his body was on fire. All he wanted in that moment as he clenched his fists over his ears inside the dark bathroom was for the door to stay strong. For anyone to help him.

But as the lock broke and the wood let out a heinous whine and he was hit with sudden light and a large shadow, he realized circumstances do not work in your favor when you stand there and do nothing. And the moment he understood that, was the moment his life was about to drastically change. More accurately, the very next week.

When you entered his life.

“So- Jeon Jungkook, age 16, failing high school student…written up 4 times, visited juvie twice. Now, tell me why you beat up that kid, Jeon?” You stood up straight, writing away mindlessly in your small notebook.

The kid did nothing but stare at you through his bruised eye and busted lip, while he sat on the edge of your desk. It wasn’t his first time dealing with the cops and something inside him always knew it wouldn’t be his last. When you didn’t hear his answer, you huffed, looking up at him from the pages between your fingers.

“Well? I don’t have all night you know. I could just lock you in.”

He smirked. It was easy to tell you were new, he noticed as soon as you walked in and were told to book him by the guy who arrested him. Your uniform had been pressed with great care, not one hair was out of place and your badge was polished and perfectly positioned. It felt like you just came out of one of those corny films about the ‘good’ cops; fighting crime for justice and truth. The kid was even younger than he was at that moment when he realized just how full of bullshit that trope was.

One glance around the room, at the other pigs in uniform and he knew you had just gotten the job. That your spirits hadn’t been crushed unlike these soulless bodies wandering the station’s premises.

That was the best quality about the kid, he had always been observant. A lot more than his peers or even the adults in his life. He could tell a great deal about you at one glance. You seemed jittery and nervous, trying to write as neatly as possible. It felt like you were trying to get someone’s attention – a high ranking older officer, who you kept observing from the corner of your eye. As the kid watched that man chortle with his equally dull colleagues, he thought there was a resemblance in you both, but that there also wasn’t.

“Then why don’t you?” The kid replied a bit too sarcastically, wanting this to be over with as quickly as possible so maybe he could get some sleep for the first time in 3 days. It would do him a lot of good actually, being away from that house for a little while. Subtly, he was pleading.

“Look kid,” You grimaced, “I know that guy you beat up, he’s a racist little shit. He probably did something to you, I’m sure or you wouldn’t carry so many self-defense wounds along your hands. There might be some way I could help you; I want to help you. But only if you tell me what really happened, alright?”

It was silent just then. He was silent.

“I want to help you.”

He was expecting you to reprimand him for his smart mouth and then lock him up. That’s what anyone who took one glance at his file did. It was filled with crap about him, shit that they peered their nose over because they were so much better than him. The kid never trusted adults; they never did anything for him. He was the child that everyone discriminated against to remind themselves how lucky they were. At least my child’s not like that, is what they all thought. No one cared about his side of the story. No one but…you.

Your answer was something that caught him off guard for the first time in years.

“Why do you want to help me? I’m a criminal.”

“Oh yeah, you got a record,” You reply casually, flipping through your notes, “I glanced over it, it’s all for stealing food.”

Suddenly you became quiet. Taking a step back, you begin to study him up and down from where he sat.

“Is… is your dad not feeding you?”

Your gaze shifted further into concern and he held his breath. He’s never seen those eyes before on anyone – never for him. Shit, his own mother never looked at him like that. Like she felt something for him. Not even when the bitch ran off with the neighbor and left him with that monster – young, weak and helpless.

Having someone worry about him made him feel strange, his whole body broke out into a quiver and his eyes watered. That kid could see himself in the reflection of your eyes that had widened dramatically at the change in his demeanor. And he tried to stop himself but for some reason, he wanted you to worry about him.

“Uh- I..wai- don’t cry-'' Flustered, you scrambled around, trying to find a tissue. You were new at the job and you weren’t used to people breaking apart yet. Everyone around you seemed so busy, hustling around the station like they didn’t see a teenage boy in the start of a mental breakdown…that or they didn’t care. Finally, you grab the handkerchief your mom had stuffed inside your uniform pocket and carefully hold it out for him.

But you drop it in a flash when you witness him get struck across the face the very next instant.

“YOU FUCKING TROUBLESOME BRAT!”

You flinched at the loud, unforgiving voice that resounded throughout the station. Everyone instantly went noiseless and it felt like the station just halted for the first time in years. All you could hear were the lingering ringing of phones.

“How many times have I warned you not to make trouble? You’re a disgrace!” The man spit into the kid’s face. He was tall, maybe 6’2, and muscular compared to the teenager but stood unevenly, favoring his left foot and walked with a limp. His face bore a scar on the cheek that was partially covered with a jungle of facial hair. His eyes seemed insane with anger and he reeked of hard liquor. You had to remind yourself that you had a taser in your holster.

Slowly, you looked back at the kid whose fringe covered his eyes. He hadn’t moved an inch since the man slapped his face. A large red handprint on his already wounded skin. It pulled at your heartstrings.

“S-sir?” You cleared your throat to which the crazy man turned his sneer towards you. But you couldn’t let that faze you. “You can’t just hit a child like that, I need you to back away.”

That was the best you could do at sounding confident, but your strength wavered as soon as the man took a step towards you.

“You trying to tell me how to raise my son, girlie?”

The scent of alcohol clouded your senses. You opened and closed your mouth like a fish. Your body started trembling, but you still tried to stand your ground until-

“Jeon!”

Another loud voice interrupts you. This time though, you recognized that voice. Your dad steps between you and the snarling man and you almost cry out of relief. You gape at both of the men in awe, staring one another down. The tension wraps around your throat and you worry for the kid behind all of this. If a brawl breaks out, he’s likely to get injured…

For a second you tried peeking back at your desk over your dad’s shoulder, until you hear sudden robust laughter in front of you.

What the fuck?

“You son of a bitch, how’ve you been?” Your father daps his hand with the terrifying man and your face morphs into confusion.

The demeanor and the whole damn atmosphere between the men changed, just like that. All the suffocating animosity had vanished in an instant as if it never existed, which left you dumbstruck and standstill.

“I’ve been good you dick. You’re a lieutenant now, I see. No wonder I haven’t seen you around the parlor much.” The guy cackles loudly, making you cringe at his rotten teeth and bad breath.

“Ahh~ You know, the old ball and chain.” Your father so kindly refers to your mother, “Heh, actually I’m a sober man now! My oldest just became an officer like her father a month ago.” He moves to your side to pat you on the shoulder. You freeze under his touch and your wide pupils flicker between him and Jeon who took a newfound interest in you.

In any other instance, you would have been ecstatic to have your father compliment you. But right now, your brain had a hard time processing everything and you kept glancing at the stoic kid.

“This one yours?” The man smirks, eyeing you up and down in a disturbing way. You almost tasered him then and there. “She’s a bit noisy, isn’t she?”

Your dad laughs louder than before while you clench your fist.

“Relax, she’s just a kid – a whole rookie. She doesn’t know how all this works yet.”

You try not to grimace at his words. Here you were hoping he would have believed in you a bit more if you received a perfect score on the academy’s exam.

As his laughter dies down, your dad looks off to the side, just behind the giant man and raises his eyebrow. “And I take it this one’s yours?”

Jeon sighs, ruffling his hair with his calloused fingers. “Sadly. The kid’s a lost cause, ___. They can’t all be like your pretty little daughter. Every damn day hurting someone, busting balls, messing with the other kids…stealing. Just…you know after his mother left…”

He becomes mute suddenly. Staring at the ground in great concentration like he just got too emotional. Funny, you saw that look in another man last week. A man who lied about not murdering his wife. You tsk under your breath and look back at the kid, almost jumping out of your skin when you catch him staring right at you from where he sat. No more vulnerability in his young eyes. They were once again making the same hardened expression you saw when he first walked in here. Something felt very off.

Your attention flies back to the taller men when you feel your father shift towards the older Jeon.

“I understand.” He states sympathetically, placing a hand on his shoulder for comfort. “Take him home…”

It took you a second to snap out of your mute state.

“But dad, he-”

“Let them go, ___. This man here,” He signals at the guy, “He used to be one of the greatest and most respected officers of his time. Spent his best years serving. It’s the least he deserves. It’s alright.”

“No that’s not- Dad!” You begin flipping through your notebook, trying to show your father your notes, “Look at the kid’s fingers and arms! His face! He looks malnourished and some of those wounds look old- and- and this man’s obviously drunk and agressi-”

“___!” Your father shouts in rage, effectively shutting you up. “This is a command from your direct superior! They’re leaving.”

“But-”

At that moment he menacingly leans in, close enough to breathe in your ear.

“Don’t embarrass me further, child.” He whispers with pure venom.

And just like that, all the fight in you leaves. Your shoulders slump and head falls to the floor. There were tiny needles poking you everywhere and your face felt hot – ashamed. His words ring inside your head like a mantra and you want to just run away and hide.

All you did was disappoint him.

Your dad apologizes for you and the next thing you hear is the man grabbing the kid by the arm and you couldn’t help but physically wince at how much pain he would be in at the moment. He staggers out of earshot and you do nothing but look at the ground. How could you possibly face the kid now? After you told him you’d help him.

Because of that you don’t notice anything. You don’t notice the fact that your handkerchief was no longer on the floor. Nor do you notice the kid’s eyes which stayed on you the whole time he was being dragged out of the building.

You sat there, speechless.

Jungkook tilted his head, softening his gaze at your shaken form.

“He looked at you the whole time after that. Only you…but you never noticed.”

You on the other hand couldn’t hear shit he was saying. All you could think about was that vague, really fucking vague memory you had of the moment he described. Your mind was everywhere, on your father, on his father, on that event that you ended up failing to recall somehow, at your conversation with the chief earlier.

“All he had on him was an old handkerchief.”

How does someone process this? How did you forget this? There were countless of cases you’ve dealt with before, so many unusual moments that you just began throwing them out of your head for your very own sanity. That was the truth, but would anyone believe you? Jeon Jungkook was from your old hometown. Jeon Jungkook was someone you almost booked before. Jeon Jungkook was not someone who could’ve been forgotten. You, no longer in control of your facial expression, glance over at the mirror in horror. Would the chief actually think you lied?

In the back of your mind, you knew the real reason you chose to leave all the memories of your past behind – suppress them down and drown them out. But that information wasn’t something you could reveal to anyone. Ever. The one thing you were told to do was not fall into his trap, yet here you are. Your mind was a mess, which meant there was no way you could have the advantage in this situation, and you were no longer fit to interrogate him. Desperate and anxious, you place your palm on your forehead like you were in deep thought. In reality, that was the signal. You wanted to escape this place.

Jungkook glares at the side of your face, getting angrier the more you ignore him. Today was supposed to be different, his one free day where he could finally get you to notice him. And there you sat, still not looking his way. Didn’t you know you didn’t need to worry about anyone else when he was right here?

“Doll.” He practically sneers but then simmers down and smiles when you finally turn back to him – all wide eyed.

“I wanted to thank you.” He continues, “Because that day changed me forever…”

You said nothing. Wondering why the men on the other side were taking so long. He took your silence as a chance to finish his story.

“I took my beating…took all of it and said nothing. Broke my rib and wrangled my neck but I said nothing. He was drunk, so I waited for him to tire himself out…waited till he passed out on that fucking couch. Then I strangled him…with that very piece of cloth you gave me.”

This has got to be some fucking nightmare.

“And it felt really good.” His voice slightly waivered, “To watch him turn red and struggle, to watch that bastard’s life leave his eyes while in return he saw me become his demise.” He stops rambling suddenly as if recalling where he was, “Within a span of 8 minutes…I became a criminal for killing the monster who tortured me every single day. I was a sinner. I hit rock bottom. And once you’re there, it takes a lot of blood, sweat and tears to climb back up to the top.”

As you heard him rant on, your mind started to drift off. For some reason, once you slowly start to remember that tethered kid, you felt something you haven’t felt for a while. Sympathy? Sadness? Or were you just reminiscing about who you were back then. The bright young woman who had a lot to offer the world. You shake your head, looking down at the table. That girl was dead, you chose to forget her and went along with whatever life threw at you.

Your father was right to criticize your soft heart and if he were alive today you were sure he wouldn’t be able to identify you. No longer were you that naïve child who stubbornly believed that there was good in this world – in its people. It didn’t matter to you the reasons why someone committed a crime – criminals were just labeled orange jumpsuits. Jungkook had met a completely different person back then, not you.

Then why did your chest ache this much?

“J…Jungkook…I…didn’t remember…”

“I know,” He states ensuringly, making you look back up at him, “You left your past behind, after all.”

Suddenly, all the color left your face. Your heart started beating faster and you broke out into a cold sweat. You faintly thought you heard a bang behind the mirror, but you didn’t care. For the first time since you got here, your whole attention was solely on Jungkook.

It made him so happy.

“W-what…”

“It hurt when you transferred, leaving a big hole in my already impoverished life. But I understood your reasons. How can someone stay after such an incident?”

He knows.

“H-H…How did you know…”

“Oh, I know everything about you, doll.” His sinister smirk reappeared as he relaxed back into his chair and you pursed your lips as you felt an oncoming panic attack.

He knows, he knows, he knows, he-

“I know your dad wanted a son. I know that it kills you inside to never get the respect you deserve no matter what you do and even the men who claim to respect you patronize you in subtly conditioned ways. I know what your favorite food is. I know how much you love whiskey. I know you’re wearing those red panties that I fucking love on you.” He takes a breath as you let out an involuntary gasp, “And I know it was an accident.”

The first tear fell down your cheek. Shock, anger, fear? None of it mattered anymore; it was useless to pretend. You knew he knew. It was over. He stared at you in pity, like seeing you cry made him hurt.

“How could he not want someone as beautiful as you, doll?” Jungkook whispers, as if he couldn’t believe it himself.

“I wanted…to be the best for him…I tried…” Your voice strains

“I know you did. I know. Which is why you had no choice…”

In an instant, it all comes crashing back.

You drove down the lane a bit too clumsily, as you took the long way home.

It was almost midnight and you were speeding past 80 on a two-way lane off a cliffside road, but you didn’t give a single fuck. Your smashed mind was preoccupied at the moment.

A whole year had gone by, but your dad still hadn’t given you an ounce of trust he had for the other officers. Your dad – the fucking police lieutenant. You told him – you warned him that the man was armed, but he still charged in blind, without back up. Almost got the rest of the family members killed by doing something so crazy and careless.

Then he blamed you for not following his lead when he came out.

The tears came out faster than you could wipe them. Growing up in that home was horror. Him being on the force somehow also made him a conservative, self-righteous douchebag. Berating you for the way you’d dress, the way you ate, the way you talked to the way you styled your hair. It made you sick.

You tried so desperately to win over your own father’s love and approval from such a young age and you had nothing to show for it. Deep down, you knew it was because he wanted a boy. A boy who could become a cop like him. And a part of you thought that maybe if you became a cop anyway – one as respected and admired as he was, then he would finally admit he was wrong. At the very least he could finally tell you how proud he was of you.

You went to such lengths to spend the year being the best damn officer your town had seen. 26 arrests, 1 successful drug raid, multiple successful testimonies and extensive gang knowledge. As a plus, you had become beloved in the community. That took the most effort – you had to look the prettiest even while overworking yourself with double shifts. Be traditional and confident but not an overbearing prude. And never let the ‘unnatural’ masculine traits your job gave you, overpower your ‘natural’ feminine ones. Sounds completely simple doesn’t it? Now everyone praised you right and left. It was record breaking; you were the shit.

Yet he still wouldn’t refer to you as detective.

It broke you apart. You were at the end of your wits. Out excelling every male peer in your force. But you had zero to show for it. Which means all your efforts were for nothing.

The pain in your chest got heavier by the minute which made you whimper. Tonight, you had drunk yourself silly but not enough to take away the ache. To help yourself along, you grabbed the half-empty bottle laying in the driver’s seat in a swift motion and popped it open. Your car entered the opposite lane without your knowledge.

You chugged down the last of the bitter liquor, smashing the bottle against the driver’s side window. The anger still remained as you wiped the remnants of alcohol away from your mouth. Your vision was hazy, and you felt so pathetic – dirty, disgusting, like you were rotting from the inside. All you ever wanted to do was earn your father’s acceptance, so much so that you lost sense of any individuality you had left in you.

For a second, everything was so still and quiet, that it felt like all would be okay. The night was dark but serene.

But that tranquility vanished the instant you witnessed two bright lights closing in on you.

It all happened too quickly. You immediately swerved to your right, a loud honking and the friction of tires blasting through your ears. Years of practice and one whole one of police chases makes your instincts faster than normal and you immediately apply the clutch as your foot floors the break and you grip the handle sturdy. Your car rotates haphazardly to the right, but you were able to come to a complete halt before your front engine crashed into a tree.

Yet it feels like you did just that as your body lunges forward and the sounds of a car smashing against shrubs pierces through your ears. You were thankful you had your seat-belt on so you didn’t go flying out the windshield, but all you could think about was the immense pressure against the front of your body. The whiplash left you in shock for a couple seconds.

“Fuck.” You breathe out in agony, bringing your arm up to your sprained shoulder.

As you gather yourself together, you finally remember your surroundings and your head whips to the opposite end of the road to where you finally spot the car you almost hit. In the disoriented dark, you really had to strain into the distance. The car hadn’t been as lucky as yours as it thrashed towards the cliff side of the road. Seemed like it was laid halfway out on the edge. A non-threatening, old compact SUV – most likely a family car. Possibly children present. You could hear them screaming.

Fuck.

You had to help them as quickly as you could. But the instant you tried stepping out, you saw the gleam of a bottle under the driver’s seat.

And just like that, your body fell limp. Because you were more sober now than you’ve ever been in any moment of your life, you barely remembered…you were drunk.

All of the pain in your body immediately changed into fear – your eyes became wide and your pores leaked sweat.

You were drinking.

If you get out to help them, they were bound to smell the alcohol. If they’re able to identify you…if the police are called-

Everything would end tonight. Your career would be over, your family’s name will be dragged through the mud publicly and your father-

Your father would never forgive you. He’d never speak to you again. You’d be disowned.

Don’t embarrass me further, child.

Don’t embarrass me further, c̴h̶i̵l̴d̶

don’tembarrassmefurtherd̸o̴n̷’̸t̶e̶m̷b̷a̴r̴r̴a̴s̸s̷m̷e̶f̷u̷r̴t̸h̸e̴r̴d̵̜͓̈́͝ǫ̵͖̏͝n̴̘̈́’̷͕͐̈́t̴̗̺̃ẻ̵̢͓m̷͉̕b̸̡͕́̆a̴͔̬͆r̴̦͒r̸͉͑̿ạ̵̳̽s̵͙̏s̵̳̣̀̇m̵͉̬̐͋ë̸͓̝̕f̶̙̑u̶͈͠ř̷͔͈̃ẗ̴̠̈́h̸̖͍̅e̵̟̘͆r̷̫̕d̵̜͓̈́͝ǫ̵͖̏͝n̴̘̈́’̷͕͐̈́t̴̗̺̃ẻ̵̢͓m̷͉̕b̸̡͕́̆a̴͔̬͆r̴̦͒r̸͉͑̿ạ̵̳̽s̵͙̏s̵̳̣̀̇m̵͉̬̐͋ë̸͓̝̕f̶̙̑u̶͈͠ř̷͔͈̃ẗ̴̠̈́h̸̖͍̅e̵̟̘͆r̷̫̕d̴̼͚̠̈́̓ơ̶̪̜̅n̸̻̬͕͂͊͝’̸̼̪͉̌̒́t̷̲͓̐͒e̸̗̅͗m̵̨̹̫̓͑b̴̯̗̪̌̑å̷̬͕̻r̵̤͌̅̈́r̸̦̃̅̑ą̵̢̖̋s̷̟̜̄͆s̶̢̬̄m̸͎͗̈́́e̸̘̩̒̋f̷̝̦̟͆ũ̴͚̖̤r̶̙̫͒͝t̸̘͓̾͗͝ḩ̴̫͔̏̒ȇ̶̪̳͠d̶̳̆͂o̶͈̣͊̈́͐ņ̴̼̾’̵̨̆͂t̷̠̺͒̾̔ę̷̯̮̅̓m̸̪̑ͅb̷͇͐͑a̶̩͛̇ͅr̴̢̟̰̄͝r̸̞͙͎͑̅a̶̓̋̃ͅs̴̹͍͋̅̉s̷͓͓͎͒̆̐m̴̹̮͙̃e̶̲͗͠f̷̨͇̐́u̶̫͆̿̉r̶̰̗͑̾t̵̨̼͉͊͘h̸̻͔̥̎̒e̴̲̍̚r̷̺̘̆d̷̟̀̌̃õ̴̲̬̕n̸̡̕’̷̨̭̘̽t̶̛̼̀ë̸͉̲̂ḿ̶͚̌̚ḇ̸͇̗̿̏ȃ̶͖̥͔̿͑r̶̲̝̣͗̅r̴̖͖͘͝a̶͚͉͚͝s̴͎̘͑s̶͙̲̜̾̚m̵̨̧͒̈ẽ̵̱f̶̯̓̑̀ủ̶͍ȑ̵̻̼̍͒͜t̸̞͕͐̉̚h̵̺͐e̷̟̠̪̅͑́r̷̹̔͠d̶̯̼̫͒̑̅ȏ̴͎n̵̹̯̈͗’̷̢͋ṯ̵͓̈́ȅ̸̠ṃ̶̲̓b̸̘̻̈̆͜͝ä̷̢́̈r̴͍̫̐̌r̷̞̂͐͑à̵̛̤̌s̶̠̟̃ş̸͍̜́m̵̰͋̏̈́ë̴̬́f̵̝͈̋̄̚u̶͉͉͇͂̓r̴͚̉̎t̴̹̤͆ȟ̸͔͔̈́ė̶̹͆d̸̟̫͆̈́ő̸̲̔͠n̸̠̈́͌’̴̮̏̂̏t̷̩̦̓̿͒e̵͉̲̰̽̿m̶̡̛b̸͓̥͙͋ă̵̭̈́r̶͓̓͐r̵̤̮̾̌a̴̗͒͘s̸̫̉̆̀s̵̠̉͝m̸̪̗͛̽e̸͈͒̔f̶̺̟͂́u̷̢̧͈͐r̵͉͚̈́͝ẗ̴͚̹͉́̋́h̵͈̰̥̔d̷̟̉ͅo̶̩̟̺̍̒̾ṇ̴͋̾’̶̟̣̓̚ť̵̳̩e̵̡̼͛m̷͉̺̈́b̶̢̙̝͌a̶̳̟̐͠r̶͉̅̿ŕ̶̞̌̃a̶̠̿̊̽ͅs̸̡̨̩̽ş̶̯͎̃̀̈́m̵͙͓̦̍́e̸̠͍̳̽̆f̷͔͛̈́u̴͉̻͂̆͒r̴̥̩̀̑̋ṭ̶͔̯̊̂ḣ̵̡̭̰̔͆ễ̵͎̚r̷̝͔̙̀d̴͈͕͔͊ȍ̴̅̓ͅn̷͙̈’̴̪̜͎̓̈́͠t̴̝̾̚e̵͇̭͐ḿ̵̙̊b̷̧̝͆͛̔ͅa̴̗̲͒͠r̷͉͍̹̀́r̶̨͎̤̄a̶̙͔̳̾́͐s̸̳͑s̴̨͆͆̀ṃ̸̏̕͠è̴͎̻͆̚f̷͎͇̀ͅu̶͔̺͌̏̊͜r̷̩̂͗t̸̝̓̏h̶̠͉̏͝ȩ̷̬̣̈r̵̼̍ď̵͔̊o̵̡͉̣͑͂͒n̵̜̋́’̵̠̈́ͅṭ̷͛͝͝e̸̮͆m̷͚̈̃͊b̵͚͐͊a̷͈̲̘͛͆̚ŕ̵̻̦̘̓͠ŕ̵̹̭̈̎a̷̻̺̫̍͝s̶̜̠̹͑s̴̼̈́m̵̯̏ĕ̷̲̯̣f̵̹͔̍͝ų̸̤͌̿̀r̵̨͓̳̽͝t̵͉̟̃̐h̴̘̰͖̓͛e̵̺̽͠r̸̡̟̻̒̈́

“NO!” You shout, covering your ears with your palm to drown out his scalding voice.

Jungkook finally stopped talking, watching you cave into yourself on the chair in front of him. He would’ve done something if his hands weren’t tied down to the table. You looked so fragile and pained, it reminded him of himself in those days. This was the very look you had on after your father whispered something to you all those years ago. As he thought, he was always right about you.

You both were the same.

“_-”

“Shut up!” You scream, clenching your eyes shut and trying to erase the image of the car from your mind. “Just shut the fuck up!”

“You had no choice, ___.” He continued, his voice softer than before, “You had to drive off.”

“No I…” You look back up at the man in front of you through hard blurry tears, trying not to choke on your words. “I didn’t mean it…I didn’t- I promise dad…I did- i-it was an accident…”

“___...I know. It was you father who broke your spirit. It was the world that crushed your soul. They drove you mad, doll. They made you a sinner.”

You say nothing as the tears continue to fall, getting lost inside his bottomless pools.

“You drove off and left the family there. But he didn’t.”

He?

“That kid you never noticed…the kid who would’ve done anything for you.”

His response further tethers you into confusion. You furrow your eyebrows, not understanding what he was trying to say.

“That kid who only looked at you. He was right behind you that night.”

You feel a shiver crawl up your spine.

The kid was only slightly older and less miserable that night.

He was involved with every bad name in that town, aka his late father’s acquaintances. They provided him a new shelter, transportation and a means to earn food, as long as he did their bidding. Crime was a lot more organized than he would have ever thought. It was a hard life, but he was learning to survive. Committing small acts here and there for big games. No longer was he some petty thief who stole in desperation, he was a kid with so much blood on his hands that he couldn’t even stand looking at them

There were nights where he would have these dreams about ruling over an empire, of being feared and respected and every time he took a life, those dreams seemed closer to his bloody grasp. Although he hated taking orders, he became obedient to the never-ending pain. There was nothing he wouldn’t do to move up the ladder, but it would be a while till he could see a light.

Throughout this struggling livelihood, he did have one small, precious source of sun in his life. You.

Anytime he could, he would come watch you. Sometimes just small glimpses to get him through the day. Watching you on a stake out, prance around town, or just lounge about in your room. It was the most dangerous thing he did since you were a cop. Every time he went to you, he risked everything, but he was extra careful. There were times where he almost got caught, like the time he was masturbating in your bushes as you walked around with a towel on – don’t look so disgusted, he was just a dumb kid – but thankfully you never did find him. On the contrary, you helped him build all the stealth he’d need for his future.

In some ways, he thought of you as the better half of him. A person whose existence was nothing but a cause for regret, yet you didn’t let that corrupt you, unlike him. You were better than him – righteous and kind. Deep down inside, you were who he wanted to be.

Now that he was free of that monster’s grasp, he would imagine walking up to you as a free kid man. Wondering if you would remember him. He didn’t know what he would say, if there was anything at all he could have told you. It was a yearning he didn’t understand, he was just too young and unsettled.

The kid was content with watching you from far away because he knew he wasn’t worthy of you. It still didn’t stop him from being utterly in love with the thought of you alone.

That night he saw you leave the station. He observed you outside the bar’s window getting wasted. There was a strange feeling he had that night as you left a drunk mess, stumbling towards your 2012 Hyundai Accent and rushing out of the parking lot. The kid would soon learn to always trust his instincts.

He was driving right behind you, making sure he kept his distance. You were one hell of an officer, no doubt. Nevertheless, you were too out of it that night to tell anyone was tailing you. It all happened too quickly. The clumsy driving, the crash, and the aftermath. His heart almost jumped out of his chest when he saw you skid, pressing his own break as hard as he could. But you were able to stop before you crashed into anything, much to his relief.

The kid was trying to think about what he could do. You weren’t too hurt, were you? Should he come out and help you? He didn’t even care about the other car, just observing you in the far distance. As he continued to think, he decided he would come out and see if there was any way he could help you.

And as soon as he clicked his door open, he watched you do something he never would have imagined.

He saw you drive off.

It took a minute to realize what just happened. And the kid had always been observant, so he knew exactly what you were thinking. For the first time that night, he looked over at the other car.

These people could destroy you. Everything you have worked so hard for. He knew exactly why you had to leave. But he couldn’t do something like that. The kid had to help you, just like you did for him at one point.

So, he did the only thing he knew how. He drove up to the edge where their car hanged halfway. There were people yelling from inside, he could hear children. The car began blaring their horn as soon as they saw him drive up.

He drove up really close, close enough that his bumper banged against theirs.

Your mind was a blank state.

“He pushed them off.” Jungkook finishes off calmly.

You let out the breath you were holding, your bottom lip quivering softly. “Is…is that why-”

“Yeah. That’s why when you came back a minute later…they were gone.”

They were gone. Everything was as clear as day. You remember driving off, rushing even harder than before as you cried your heart out. It was such a stupid and rash decision – so fucking stupid. Half a minute later, you stepped on the break once again. As your car came to a halt, all you could hear were your sobs and the immobile engine. Your body hurt, everything hurt so, so, so much.

Was it worth it? Is gaining your father’s love worth killing someone over? Slowly, you glanced at the rear view mirror. Looking at the girl with swollen eyes. She wasn’t someone you recognized. The promise to serve and protect rings in your ears. All you were in this moment, was a hypocrite. You didn’t deserve anyone’s praise if this was your reality, you didn’t deserve anyone’s pity.

It was really dark out, and you found the slightest comfort in the world’s shadow. You bit your bottom lip, trying to stop your tears. It didn’t work – it was useless. All worth nothing.

Which is why you screamed out on the top of your lungs, banged your fists against the wheel before turning your car back around.

No matter what happens…you had to save them.

And you tried to. Within a minute, you were back where you before. But once you got there, that one place you’d never forget – those shrubs, the cliff, that road – they were gone. You got out, looking around, hoping that the family survived. The cliff itself was too high and the night was too dark to see below. Pulling at the strands of your hair, screaming out ‘hello?’, you appeared mad.

Till this day you don’t know if it was your gut instinct or an entity bigger than you that gave you a sign, if not the newspaper a few days later, you just knew they were dead. You fell to your knees – a broken woman. Not having any idea of those dark eyes that cried along with you that damned night.

Not until now.

Jungkook was the one who killed them, but how much does that change, really? It was still you who drove off, still you who left them in his hands. You were so deep in thought that you didn’t hear the sound of the interrogation room’s door cranking open. The man opposite you kept his eyes unflinchingly on you, waiting for this all to come to an end.

The last thing you felt was something heavy against the back of your head before you fell unconscious.

“Shit- that was so hard you bastard, I told you to use the chloroform shit.” Jungkook shouts at the man holding the gun’s handle.

“I couldn’t fucking find it, I told you that at the house, kid. Besides, she’s a big girl, she’ll be fine.” The man puts the barrel back in his holster before ripping his badge off his belt and throwing it aside.

“Shut the fuck up and uncuff me, Jimin.”

The blonde sighs, grabbing his keys from his back pocket.

“Tells me to infiltrate a police department, forces me to befriend and stalk some random cop girl, makes me hang out with those pigs. Fucking prick.” Jimin murmurs under his breath as he paces over and unlocks the shackles on said prick.

Jungkook winces, grabbing his wrist and twisting it around to get some circulation going. Then he stretches his neck before standing up and dusting his pants. Fuck, this chair was uncomfortable. He points at some fresh blood staining the elder’s chin, prompting him to wipe it off.

“So, what’s the situation outside?”

“Me and Kane took care of all of them. We took our time with Hyun, like you wanted. Now Kane’s waiting in the van for us.”

“Good.” Jungkook nods, looks like everything went according to plan. He glances over at your limp form and walks up to where you sat insentient. With a huff, he got on his knees so he could see your face up close, like he’s always wanted to.

“I can’t believe this day is here.”

Jimin looks between you both. “What are you gonna do with her?”

The younger cups your cheek. “You know I was ecstatic that night. I was…fuck, I never thought you could be with me. But that night, you proved that you were meant to be mine. And I waited so long for this moment. This moment where I could introduce myself to you as your equal. It’s why I was out on that mill this morning, detective. I wanted to meet you so much that it hurt.”

…That wasn’t an answer to his question but Jimin knew not to further bother his boss. There probably was a lot he had planned for you, but he wasn’t going to say it. No one ever really knew what this kid was thinking, anyway. He was a cryptic bastard.

Jungkook turns towards Jimin and extends his free hand out to him. Without being asked, Jimin reaches into his front pocket and pulls out the old handkerchief. His boss usually didn’t go this long without holding it. He places it into the younger’s hand without a word.

Turning back around, Jungkook places the cloth right underneath your shut eyes. He gently wipes away the tears leaking out.

“No one will ever hurt us again, doll.” Jungkook whispers before standing back up.

He places the handkerchief back in his own pocket and moves in to pick you up bridal style. Safely tucking you in his arms.

“Lead the way.” He orders Jimin who nods before opening the door of interrogation room 4.

___

This is absolute trash :))) I hope ya’ll enjoy tho. Lemme know what you thought, srsly because this fic stepped out of a certain comfort zone for me. I am absolutely open to part 2 if ya’ll want. if there is something you’re curious about, ask away.

#yandere bts #yandere jungkook #bts angst #jungkook angst #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts #jungkook #R:SIN

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cthulhuliet · 4 years ago

Text

playing his game

6.1k words | AO3 Link | warnings: explicit content, canon-typical violence

L is hoping for something-- to see any flash of Kira behind Light's eyes. He would do anything to draw him out again, even play a silly party game for a brief hint. He ends up with more than bargained for.

“Ok, truth or dare,” Light asked, looking expectantly at L.

“Is this really a good use of our time?” L bit the corner of his thumbnail, pointedly looking away from Light.

“You have asked that already,” Light crossed his arms, annoyed, “And I don’t see any better use of our time,”

L knew that, in a way, Light was correct. The Kira case had reached a cold spot after Light and Misa’s imprisonment, which left L feeling depressed and unmotivated to work on anything (despite the… encouragement from Light). Playing a party game with a teenager was towards the bottom of his priority list. However, that teenager was currently L’s prime (and only suspect) in the most difficult case of his career, so it would be foolish not to play.

Furrowing his eyebrows, L pulled his knees closer to his chest, “Fine, we can continue,”

“Truth or dare,”

L paused for a moment. He knew that even if Light asked something incriminating like his name for truth, he could simply lie or refuse to answer. Though, it is interesting that for the past rounds, Light has simply been treating this as a fun “get to know you” party game, while L is looking over his shoulder and analyzing every one of his questions.

“Dare, I suppose,”

Light smirked, “I dare you to take these off,” He shook his wrist, the handcuff jangling with the movement. L said nothing, simply raising an eyebrow, “Eh, worth a shot,” Light stood up from where he was sitting and quickly reached over to the coffee table behind him and put the phone in front of L’s feet, “Fine. I dare you to prank call Misa,”

L opened his mouth and closed it, shaking his head, “No, I am not doing that,”

“What? Giving up already?’ Light smirked leaning in close to L. He could smell the aftershave on his cheeks and the toothpaste on his breath, “I guess that means I win, Ryuzaki,”

A ripple of heat waved through his blood. Despite being a stupid party game, L was not about to lose, especially not about to lose because of Misa. He snatched the receiver from Light’s hand, “No, you do not,” He put the receiver between the crook of his shoulder and ear, “I am not about to lose to you, Light,” A devilish grin spread across Light’s face, as he wordlessly dialed in the numbers. It was only when the line was trilling did L realise how ridiculous this was. Covering the end of the receiver, he whispered to Light, “What am I even supposed to say?”

Light looked like a child at a birthday party, biting his lips to fight off a smile, “Figure it out,”

The line connected and he heard shuffling on the other end, “Light? Why are you calling? It is 2 in the morning,”

L froze, looking at Light with owlish eyes, begging for help. The latter would be of no help, seeing as he was using every muscle in his body to suppress his laughter, “Oh, apologies for the late call Misa, this is actually Ryuzaki,” His voice felt stilted and awkward, but she didn’t seem to notice.

“Oh, is Light still awake?”

“No,”

There was an elongated pause, L could hear Misa’s quiet breath on the other line, “Do you need something? This better not be something perverted, calling me at 2am…”

L rolled his eyes, “Of course not. I, uh, just wanted to let you know that… Watari is making waffles tomorrow. Do you want me to put you down for some?”

Misa hummed on the other line, “I don’t know, all that sugar will make me fat,”

“These are 0 calorie and organic fair trade,” He goaded.

She sighed, taking a moment to consider, “That actually sounds lovely. I don’t know why you had to call me instead of just waiting until morning.”

“Uh-”

“It’s probably just an excuse to hear my voice,” She giggled, “It’s ok Ryuzaki, I won’t tell anyone,” Misa yawned dramatically on the other line, “I am going back to bed. Tell Light to come visit me tomorrow.”

“You realise that I would also be-”

“Goodnight!” The call disconnected. L pulled the phone away from his ear and slowly put it back onto the cradle. He looked over at Light, amusement sparkling in his eyes, “Misa is looking forward to a date with you tomorrow,”

Light slapped a hand to his forehead and started laughing. There was something infectious about Light’s laugh that made him smile too.

“Ryuzaki, that was the worst prank ever,” He choked out between chuckles.

Light’s smile lit up the room and L could feel swells of warmth coursing through his body, hitting him gently like waves on your ankles in the ocean. Light’s smile, his genuine smile, was one that lit up a room and kept people watching. When his laughter and joy reaches his eyes, L is not surprised about Light being so popular. And in moments of weakness, L could see why he would fall for him as well. Though, that warmth was nothing compared to the twisting of the icicle in his gut. The flaring up of every neuron in his nervous system, with anxiety spiking up to 11. The logic center of his brain turning him and shaking him by the shoulders, begging him to remember that none of this is real .

The real Light would have never laughed like a schoolboy as L prank called his girlfriend, finding hilarity in something so trivial. The real Light would never playfully, but softly, ruffle L’s hair, telling him to lighten up. The real Light would never look him in the eyes, and thank L for playing along. The real Light would have never let L see a single moment of vulnerability. He would have never admitted that the toll of this case was genuinely making him extremely stressed. He would have never apologized in that moment for punching L, admitting to him that sometimes he reacts with anger when faced with complicated emotions. No. Because the real Light laughs at others he deems beneath him, and not with them. The real Light had more brick lined walls with white lies as cement built around his true emotions. This is not Light, this is not Kira--The real Light doesn’t care about other people, the real Light only cares about himself.

And yet it was so easy to get lost in the fantasy. So easy to allow L to sink into the idea that this is who Light really is. Light is, and always will be, the hard-working honors student. He always will be charismatic and charming and clever. Light always will have a strong sense of justice. Light always will be a bit bashful and awkward when confronted with any embarrassing emotions. It’s easy to look at Light that way. It is easy to see Light the way his family, the way the task force, and the way the world sees Light Yagami. Of course it is easy. It is easy to ignore red flags when you are looking at a monster through rose-colored glasses.

L watches Light balance his heels against the wall, attempting to do a handstand for his dare, and he almost wants to stay like this with Light forever. A part of him wants to take what is given to him and keep Light like this. His emotions are at war as he needs to grapple with the fact that it would be selfish to quit now. L knows deep down that there is a good chance will die at Kira’s hand, and a large part of him dreads the moment he sees Light behind Kira’s eyes as he closes his for the last time.

Kick his heels against the wall, he tries the handstand as well. The blood rushing to his head does help L clear his head a bit. He looks at Light, sitting on the floor but hanging off the ceiling, small chuckles escaping from his lips but nodding, telling L that he is impressed.

L scoffs, but not because of Light’s seemingly patronizing comment (which was most likely sincere). It is so easy to love Light like this. But he doesn’t think that he could ever truly love Light without everything else. Without the dubious morality, without the knowing smirks and mental chess, without Kira . Loving Light like this is easy, but L hates easy.

“Wow, you’re surprisingly flexible,” Light told him, L huffed out an exhausted breath when his feet finally touched the ground again.

“Thanks, my joints aren’t exactly what they used to be, but I am glad I could still do that,” L grabbed a teacup off of the coffee table and sipped the contents of the mug. Cold.

Light shook his head, “Well, maybe if you didn’t pull your knees up when you sit and crouch like this … you would have an easier time,” He pulled his legs away from his chest and sat cross legged.

L simply rolled his eyes in response, “I sit as I want, and still only struggled slightly more than you, despite being over half a decade older than you. I would be more concerned with your flexibility then commenting on my habits,”

Shaking his head, Light threw a pillow at L’s face, “I don’t like when you say it like that, Ryuzaki,”

“It doesn’t matter what you like and not, I am simply stating the truth,” L cocked his head to the side, “Not to say that you do not have your strengths as well,” Hooking his finger in his mouth, his eyes trailed over Light’s toned biceps and broad shoulders, “Those years of tennis are still owing you favors it seems. No wonder you are so popular…”

L trailed off, eyes still trailing over Light’s figure, the latter now rubbing the back of his neck, “I hope that is not the only reason… And the attention isn’t always… great…”

L hummed, “I am sure Misa-Misa is not the biggest fan of all the attention you garner from other women,” Light did not respond and L narrowed his eyes at him. The other man refused to make eye contact with him. His fingers were twitching and there was a faint redness on his cheeks that was certainly not from the previous physical activity. L clicked his tongue, “Why do you not like Misa?”

Light was pulled out of his own head, “What?”

“That is my truth or dare question.”

“What if I pick dare?”

“Then I dare you to tell me the truth.”

Light frowned, glaring at L. The two locked eyes for a brief moment and it was hard to tell what Light was thinking.

“ He really does have pretty eyes ,” L thought, “ Iris that are too brown to be red, but when they hit the light just right, it is the opposite, with golden flecks dancing around the pupils …”

“I don’t dislike Misa, it’s just…” Light sighed, leaning back on his hands, “I am just not interested in her-- romantically that is-- and I have informed her multiple times of my feelings but… She does not seem to listen, or more likely she does not care,” Light bit his lip, looking down at the carpet. L subconsciously followed the same action, “It is difficult to be around someone who doesn’t seem to listen or respect your wishes.”

“I see. I apologise that you have to be around me so much then, Light.”

Light looked up at him and frowned, either confused or simply playing dumb. L took his finger from his mouth and shook his wrist, the chain rattling. In response, he rolled his eyes, “That is different, Ryuzaki.”

“Oh?”

Light nodded, “You are not doing this because you want to, this is for the Kira investigation. This situation benefits both of us. I get to prove to you that I am not Kira, and you get your suspicions of me assuaged. I never really agreed to be Misa’s boyfriend.”

“I see.”

“Besides,” Light chuckled slightly, “It is much easier to have a conversation with you than with her,” He closed his eyes, and shook his head. L watched carefully as his hair fell over his eyes, “And even without the overbearingness, I could never see myself dating someone like her.”

L leaned forward. Anyone with worse balance than himself would have most likely fallen on their face, but he was hooked onto every word coming out of Light’s mouth-- pure voyeuristic curiosity getting the better of him, “What does Light look for in a partner?”

Light’s expression shifted. He was not uncomfortable, L determined, but his eyebrow was raised and eyes narrowed, looking suspiciously at L, “Does it matter?”

“This is truth or dare. This is a truth question.”

“You already went.”

“I am going again.”

“Have you ever played this before?”

“You can do two in a row for me.”

Light shifted on the floor slightly, sighing, “Fine,” He uncrossed his legs and stretched them out in front of him. He looked up at the ceiling and thought for a moment. L thought as well. What kind of person is Light Yagami? What does he want in a person? Surely if he is going to bring another person into his life, in a close intimate way… Is that someone he even wants? Human connection is essential for survival, but for Light, one needs to think more critically. What does he get out of it?

“This is hard,” Light muttered, “I don’t know. I suppose I want what anyone wants… Someone kind and honorable, probably intelligent as well. A person who shares interests with me, something like that I suppose.”

L said nothing for a while. He pressed his thumb against his lips, critically staring at Light. He narrowed his eyes, “That is incorrect.”

“Excuse me?”

“I asked you a question, and you refused to give me a truthful answer. For once, stop lying, Light, you are not very good at it.”

Light eyes flashed red for a moment, and he leapt to his feet, staring down at L still sat on the floor, “What the hell are you talking about? You asked me a question and I answered it when I didn’t even have to, now you’re saying that I am lying about what I told you?”

“That is exactly what I am saying, yes,” Light balled up his fists, and L instinctively steeled himself for an oncoming punch. He would not be able to react if he hit him from this angle, but there is a possible countermove he could make one he gets to Light’s level playing field. Though, instead of a punch, Light yanked the chain, hard, forcing L to his feet. L yelped, his balance unsteady and he felt as though he would trip and end up on the ground again at any moment. He only had to worry about that briefly, as Light balled up the front of L’s shirt and harshly pinned him to an opposing wall.

Light’s hands were pressed hotly against his chest, his knuckles digging into his sternum. He was sure he could feel how fast L’s heart was beating, and he prayed to God that Light assumed it was fear and adrenaline.

“I am not Kira, Ryuzaki, I know that’s what you’re thinking!” Light yelled in his face, the previous clean smell of aftershave was replaced with sweat and anger, “What, you think I am some heartless serial killer so I just want someone I could manipulate, or hurt? After all this time is that how little you think of me? You really think I cannot care about anyone?”

Light’s diction was filled with rage, and he tried to take that simply at face value, but L could sense the trepidation behind the words. Stripping them of their anger and removing Light from his aggressive position, they take on a new meaning.

“I am not Kira, Ryuzaki, I know that’s what you’re thinking!” Is that really all you see me as?

“...some heartless serial killer..” Have I not done enough to make you believe me?

“...don’t just want someone I could manipulate, or hurt…” I am a good person.

“ After all this time…” We are together 24/7 and you still don’t get it.

“...how little you think of me?” I am not made of ice, Ryuzaki. It hurts that you think of me this way.

“You really think I cannot care about anyone?” I have feelings. I care about people.

L’s breath was shallow at the close contact between them. He swallowed, choosing his words carefully, “I am not saying that, I am saying your reasoning is not entirely accurate. That is the surface level answer I would expect from a 12 year old. Light demands something more for his relationships. If you didn’t, then there are hundreds of intelligent, honorable people in Japan that you could easily be attracted to. But you are not, so what is missing for you? What makes you want to grow close to another person?”

Light’s hands balled even tighter, L could feel the stretching of the fabric around his shoulders and neck-- it dug into him uncomfortably, but the physical pain could easily be ignored in favor of the tinder in Light’s eyes, “ It’s not as simple as that! Who knows what anyone wants. Besides, how can you even ask that question? What do you even want?”

L shrugged simply, “I do not desire a relationship.”

“Liar.”

“Excuse me?”

Light smirked, “See how it feels?” L rolled his eyes, tired of Light’s petty actions. He squirmed to break free, but Light’s hold on him against the wall was too strong. It was only now that he was cursing the years of tennis and his taut biceps.

“You are behaving like a child.”

“Pot, meet kettle,” Light snarled, clearly losing his patience, “I did my best to answer, and that clearly wasn’t good enough. You aren’t even trying.”

“Why does it even matter, Light? It is a stupid question to begin with,” L muttered, desperately needing Light to move away from him. L needs to not be able to see the light dusting of freckles across Light’s cheeks and how his hair was curling up at the ends slightly or the traces of loose leaf tea on his breath or the equally shallow breaths coming from him holding L in place-- every one of his senses was being overwhelmed and the circuit was going to overload.

“Because, Ryuzaki, we are playing a game. Now play.”

L opened his mouth and closed it. He pursed his lips, “Fine. I do not desire a relationship because most people bore me,” Light’s expression softened, but his wide eyes narrowed in suspicion, “I meet others who are passably attractive and their traits are so transparent it doesn’t excite me. It doesn’t make me feel anything. If for whatever reason I were to want to have any kind of relationship, it would need to be exciting. I don’t do easy-- I want a challenge. A person who doesn’t challenge me I have no interest in keeping around long term,” Light’s grip loosened slowly. L sucked on his lower lip. “I need someone to keep me interested. Keep me on my toes. I want someone who tests me, who I can be in opposition with, but also who I can see as an equal. As shallow as it sounds, simplicity is not attractive. I do not believe I could ever find myself a partner, because just by existing, as L, I am a challenge,”

Light let go of L’s shirt, but simply stood in front of him for a while. He didn’t say anything, just stared at the other man with an unreadable expression, like he was emotionally undressing L.

“I see,” Light said, “That makes a lot of sense.”

L quirked up an eyebrow, “Really? Because most people would not say they want a pugnacious partnership like myself.”

“Well, you do not seem to be the type for domesticity.”

Light awkwardly dropped his hands to his side. It was moments like these that L remember that Light, well this Light, was still just an bright student who didn’t have much experience with dating, or possibly any kind of relationship at all. But still, if he prods enough…

“So, what about you?” L asked simply. Light looked at him and then pointedly stared out the window, “Well, there is no need to be shy now. You wanted me to open up, and now it is only fair,” L took a step closer to Light, instinctively biting his nail, “Besides, we are playing a game, aren’t we?”

“Well-”

“So tell me. I am morbidly curious,” L teased, hoping it would pull back some of the awkwardness, but it has no effect on Light’s overall demeanor.

Light sighed, running a hand through his hair, the chain rattling in its wake, “I obviously have… Desires. They are just the wrong… The wrong kind.”

Cocking his head, L frowned, “Please clarify.”

“The things I want, and what I can have are different. I don’t break rules on purpose-” L held back his comments, “- and I do my best to do what I think is right. But sometimes I do things just because… Well I feel like I should. And it is what is expected of me. My desires would be crossing every line…”

Light rubbed the back of his neck and stared off and out the window, his mind clearly somewhere else. L’s mind was also analyzing Light’s words. Desires… What does Light desire? He says it as if it is something uncouth, something forbidden. What is out of his reach? What motivates him? What gets him out of bed in the morning? What would Light kill for? Sacrifice himself for? What would Light put everything on the line for?

“What exactly do you want that your mind has deemed so wrong?” L asked.

Light shook his head and turned away from L, “No, I am not telling you.”

“Why not?”

“It will simply make everything worse.”

L raised an eyebrow, prodding more, “Light, you are my prime suspect in the largest murder case in recorded history; unless these desires are bloodlust, I doubt you can make anything worse.”

“Ryuzaki, enough, I am not saying.”

“And why not?”

Light turned around to face him, taking a step closer, “Why do you even care?”

L took a step towards Light, “Just for my own edification.” Lie. “Besides, you made me share and do things I did not want to.”

Light pushed a finger into L’s chest and slowly walked him back against the wall, “I do not owe you anything, Ryuzaki.”

“Of course not,” L grinned wildly, “But we are still playing a game.”

“No.”

“Truth or dare, Light?”

“Neither.”

L blinked slowly and tilted his head, “Then I guess you lose.”

Light scoffed, “Who is behaving like a child now?”

“Still you, somehow,” L smiled, and he watched Light grow more and more furious. It wasn’t as though he enjoyed pressing Light’s buttons, but he cannot lie and say it is fun to see the reaction of the typically calm and collected golden child come undone; it is refreshing to see the perfection mask slip every now and again. And when it did, L would be ready.

“I am not playing any more.”

“Forfeiting is still losing.” L smirked, and Light gripped the front of L’s shirt again, pushing him against the wall. The taunting brought back memories to the Lind L. Tailor ploy: laughing at Kira from miles away, begging him to try to kill him even though at that point L knew there was nothing Kira could do. Waiting for his next move. Waiting...

“Stop acting entitled, I don’t have to tell you,” Light’s breath was becoming more shallow, he was nearing his breaking point.

“Why don’t you just play the game?”

“It’s not just a game, Ryuzaki!”

“So, you’re admitting to losing?”

“Shut up.” Light warned him, the grip on L’s shirt becoming deadly.

L shrugged the best he could, “I didn’t realise that Light could fail so outstandingly at a party game.”

“Shut up!” He was desperate now. He was pleading. L wanted more.

“I would have thought that Light could just lie his way out of any situation,” He pressed a thumb to his lips, “He does seem to do it a lot.”

“Ryuzaki, I am warning you!” Light anger was almost at its peak. He was unraveling. L needed to push just a bit further. He was going to poke and prod and wind Light up. He needed to tear away all his layers until Kira stared back at him.

“Warning me of what, exactly?” L asked calmly.

Light pulled L towards him briefly before slamming him back into the wall, face mere inches away from his. His pupils were blown out and sweat sheened on his forehead and upper lip, “Shut up, before I shut you up.”

L chuckled lightly, before gazing hard into Light’s eyes, “I dare you to try.”

A challenge. L left it dangling in front of Light. He sweated out those painful seconds that felt like hours, waiting for when the bend became the break. What does Light Yagami do when his pushes turn to shoves? L braced for impact. He waited for knowing smirk, or a kick to the jaw, or a shove to the ground. He looked through Light’s eyes and waited for those too brown eyes to shift to familiar red.

When Light cupped both of his cheeks, and pressed his lips against, L’s he still waited. He waited for the punch. He waited for the slap. He waited. L waited as he pressed his lips back against Light’s, the other man softly sighing as he loosened his grip of the white shirt. L expected a harsher tug when Light threaded his hands through his messy black curls. L was waiting for the catch, waiting for the cruelty.

Light tilted L’s head to the side, kissing up and down his pale neck, “Is this ok?” He mutters into L’s ear, pressing a brief peck to the lobe of his ear. His subconscious was shaking him, telling him none of this is real , but Light’s lips were on his neck and roaming over his chest, and actions speak louder than words.

“Yeah… This is good,” L told him, breathy. If L didn't have it before, that was all the definitive proof he needed that this was almost-but-not-quite Light. Light is not the type to ask permission. Light takes and he takes. He consumes unapologetically, and has to be told to stop, rather than need permission to continue. There is something to be said in respect to the morality of messing around with someone who is not quite the same person as they used to be. L knows that Kira would never tenderly kiss him or softly suck love bites into the junction of his neck and shoulder, though it is undetermined if Kira desired him in any way other than in a coffin.

Light led him to their bed, and L should have stopped Light then, but he didn’t. As L unbuttoned Light’s pyjama shirt, he wondered what it would be like with Kira. What would Kira want? What does Kira desire out of a partner?

Light straddled his waist, and L’s wandering hands make their way up to his hips. Grabbing his wrists, Light pins L down to the bed. L groans in response and Light licks a stripe up his neck, softly kissing him before biting down on his bottom lip. L makes a noise he would typically be embarrassed by, but it’s ok, because Light is already hard.

“Control ,” he determined. Kira would never submit to anyone. He sees others as lower than himself, and he would never have the displeasure of anyone having authority over him. Kira would make his partners say his name over and over again, or call him “sir” or better yet, “God”. He would want a partner he could manipulate like putty in his hands.

Letting go of his pinned wrists, Light lifted L’s shirt and latched his mouth onto L’s nipple, licking at it slowly. L’s hands found their way to his waist, and he pushed Light’s hips down and he grinded their hard-ons against one another. L’s only wish was that Light’s moan in response was not muffled by his lips against his chest. He could only imagine the sound unabashed was heavenly.

Light sat up, and towered over L, a dangerous look on his face. L chuckled, hooking his index finger in his mouth as he spoke, “It is no fun if you are the only one in control,”

Smirking, Light attached himself to L nipple again, but instead biting down as he pressed his hips against L’s. He gasped at the action, and he could feel Light’s smirk.

“ No, that’s not right ,” L thought. Kira doesn’t like easy. Kira like a challenge. He doesn’t care about the people bending to his will. He’s met all of L’s challenges head on, it would make sense that Kira would want a little resistance. Kira would never let it go too far, taking charge in the end, but if Kira was to dominate, he wouldn’t want a submissive partner to simply do what he says: Kira would want to earn it.

Light made his way to L’s sweats, and pulled them down with a quick tug, his hard cock straining against his boxers. He palmed L through the cloth, and swallowed his moans by shoving his tongue in L’s mouth.

L was writhing underneath Light, all his nerves were alight with feeling the man everywhere on top of him. He ran his blunt nails against Light’s back. Light breathed in harshly through his nose and a low moan came from the back of his throat.

“Rough,” L mentally added to the list. Kira was the type of man who was not gentle about anything. Though, neither was L. He imagined getting fucked by Kira had a lot of bruises and scratches. He imagined the scratches would be rough and deep, leaving scars from the claws sinking into your skin. Harsh bites to the lip would draw blood-- a thick and metallic flavor that would make him dizzy, though you can’t drip nectar over his tongue and expect L to not love the taste.

He stripped L of his boxers, and L shivered slightly at the cool air. Light paused for a moment, and looked up at L, “I, uh, I have never done this before,” Light stared at L with his too-brown eyes, all wide and innocent, asking for help. L had to swallow down the part of him that wishes that it was still all an act. He sat up, and ran a hand through Light’s hair, kissing him and telling him it was ok, and that he would tell him what to do.

“Praise,” He added. Kira was a man who wanted to be a God. All Gods want to be revered, and it should be no different for Kira. Here was a man who wanted so badly for the world to know of his existence that he is risking the electric chair in order to be seen. He bends his idea of justice just to keep his reign intact-- that is the kind of man who wants a partner to tell them that he is perfect. To let Kira know that he is so smart, so handsome, so good . Yes, Kira is a principled man who doesn’t see he is evil. He wanted to be told he is good.

L’s head fell on Light’s shoulder, writhing and moaning in his lap. Light’s hands twisted up and down L’s cock. Light used his thumb and focused on L’s head, smearing the precum around it before returning to his steady motions.

“Yeah, you got it,” L moaned in Light’s ear, “I didn’t have to give you much direction at all. You’re doing so well, Light,”

L could hear a faint whimper from Light, and he bit into the junction between his shoulder and neck, imagining that under all the collars and button ups that Kira-- Light--- they dreamed of hiding a love mark there.

In a quick flurry of motions and direction, L moved Light out of his pants and boxers, and began slowly stroking him as well. Light paused his motions and gasped, digging his nails into L’s hips. L reasoned that it would not take much to make him come at all.

“Fuck, Ryuzaki…” Light said, low but rushed.

L hummed, using more spit and applying more pressure to his grip, Light’s eyes rolling to the back of his head, the gasps and whimpers increasing in volume and frequency.

“You’re so responsive,” L observed, pressing feather light kisses to Light’s neck that made him whine, “So sensitive…”

“W-well yeah, that makes sense.” Light ran his nails across L’s thighs, his well manicured ones were sure to leave pretty red marks.

L tilted his head to the side, “I wonder what would happen…” He questioned, and before Light could respond, L pushed him down on the bed, and took his cock in his mouth. L deep throated his entire length before focusing his attention to the head, moving his hands around Light’s cock in tandem with his licks.

Light threw his head back, one step removed from screaming as he begged loud enough for the whole floor to hear (not that there was anyone around).

L took Light’s cock again fully in his mouth, and that was enough to have Light coming, tightly gripping his hair and L’s name on his lips. L pulled off of him after swallowing and kissed Light softly on the lips. It almost felt wrong.

“You didn’t come.”

“It’s ok, I’ll be fine.”

Light’s eyes were wide, “I want to make you come.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t think I could do what you just did though.”

“That’s ok,” L brushed the brown hair out of Light’s eyes. His all-too-brown eyes. “You can just use your hands if you want.”

Light was beautiful, and it was easy to love Light like this. Easy to love Light when he was taking care of L. Licking his hand to keep his cock slick, seeing him bite his lip with every drop of praise-- not that L minds calling Light a good boy, or telling him that he is doing great for his first time and that he is making L feel so good.

Light kissed him like he meant it, his tongue brushing against L’s, inexperienced and messy but still erotic and tender. He kissed L’s neck as he warned Light that he was close, because of course he already picked up that that was one of L’s most sensitive spots. L couldn’t even bring himself to be shocked, because Light is just that brillant.

“Light… Light …” L whimpered his name as he came, moaning and pulling his hair. Light wiped the come off of his hand and onto the sheets. L was still panting, coming down from his peak, and Light kissed him softly on the lips. L cupped his cheek and kissed him back, feeling as though this kiss was the greatest line crossed tonight.

L threaded his hands through Light’s all-too perfect hair, holding him as they both settled down, the adrenaline previously running through their veins beginning to seep out. Light traced patterns across L’s neck, and L kissed his temple.

He tilted Light’s chin up and looked into those wide innocent eyes. L prayed that Kira was behind them, but he only saw Light Yagami. Perfect Light Yagami, not the monster Kira. The type of monster that is the only one that could love L completely. L felt like Light is the real victim here.

And yet, he still pulled Light in for another tender kiss, his grapple with his own morality was overpowered by the desperation to feel his lips against Light’s once more. Just once more. And once more…

Each kiss with Light felt like a burn, and L knew that any of those could be their last, but he really would not have minded if he was fully consumed by the flames.

#L and Light play party game and kiss #lawlight #death note #l lawliet #light yagami #death note fanfiction #dn #my writing #this actually has a lot of plot for what is essentially

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