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annalyticall · 1 year ago

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Thoughts on Attack on Titan

Me being 10 years late to things, I was recently convinced to watch Attack on Titan and I ended up binge-watching the entire anime (and reading the final manga chapters) these last two weeks. I had purposefully been dragging my feet about watching this show since I had heard so much controversy surrounding it; that it was sexist, pro-fascist, pro-nazi, pro-imperialist, pro-propaganda, and heavily anti-Semitic. All pretty good reasons to stay away from something, I think.

But then I saw a video about how the criticisms leveraged against it were not quite so black-and-white, and how the show was more complex than those labels gave it credit for. Admittedly, that piqued my interest. I want to come to my own conclusions about the media I consume, so I decided to watch it with an open mind and a discerning eye.

And boy did I discern... a lot.

I am recording my very very lengthy opinions about Attack on Titan and its manga ending under the cut, mostly so that if anyone asks how I feel about certain things portrayed in the show, I can reference them to this post. Here's a quick table of contents:

The Themes

The Good

The Bad

The Problems

The Characters

Conclusion (and why Jean is the best character you can't change my mind)

Anime and Manga spoilers ahead.

The Themes

Attack on Titan tackles a lot of different themes throughout the course of the story. Possibly too many. Right now, I'm listing the big ones I noticed here because I will be referencing back to them later. Also note I am stating these themes as they are presented in the text, not as my own personal beliefs.

The human desire to create meaning in life and death. Does dying for a cause give life meaning? If the cause is hopeless, would dying for that cause be in vain? Is it enough to know that the living will continue your legacy after death? Does honoring the dead give their life meaning? Is the gift of life itself meaningless if not used to ensure humanity's ongoing survival? Is it enough to simply exist? Characters that most embody this theme: Zeke, Eren, Armin, Jean, Levi, Hange, Erwin, Historia, Ymir (of the Cadets), Marlow.

Everyone is shackled to a dream. Does the desire to fulfill a dream make you a slave to it? Will devoting your life to a dream of freedom make you paradoxically a slave to the very ideal? Will the hope of achieving a dream drive people to do terrible things they never would have otherwise? Is true freedom in the ability to let go of a long-held dream? Characters that most embody this theme: Erwin, Eren, Levi, Kenny, Armin, Jean.

The corrupting power of love and loyalty. Similar to an enslaving dream, will blind devotion to someone (in a romantic, platonic, subordinate, or familial relationship) drive that person to do terrible things just to be with them or make them happy? How far can that love go? Is blind devotion even love? Is it wise to love if it creates fatal weakness? Characters that most embody this theme: Mikasa, Armin, Eren, Zeke, Annie, Reiner, Falco, Historia, Ymir (of the Cadets), Ymir (The Founder).

The cycle of violence is endless. As long as more than one person is alive on Earth, there will always be conflict. Is it worth fighting to break the cycle when the cycle is inevitable? Is it necessary to perpetuate the cycle in order to survive in a world that forces violence? Is humanity worthy of saving if saving it demands the loss of one's own humanity? Characters that most embody this theme: Erwin, Eren, Armin, Reiner, Jean, Floch, Hange, Levi.

The pursuit of truth and wonder are the driving forces behind humanity's ability to work together. Propaganda and the obstruction of truth might work to pacify the populace short-term but will always be defeated once people put in the effort to truly understand others and the world they live in. The promise of discovery and truth are invaluable sources of hope and ingenuity. Characters that most embody this theme: Hange, Armin, Erwin.

People are people. Everyone is capable of great evil or great kindness, regardless of what nation, class, or race they were born into. Everyone has strengths and everyone has weaknesses. Everyone is influenced by their own hopes and dreams. The recognition of these innate similarities is crucial for forgiveness and acceptance across boundaries. Characters that most embody this theme: Reiner, Jean, Eren, Armin, Sasha, Gabi, Falco.

There is no accurate measure of good and evil. Being a "good person" is subjective, based more on personal goals and cultural ideals than on a base standard for "good." When faced with a difficult decision, perhaps it is best to choose whatever option will cause the least regret, a measure that is unique to everyone depending on an individual's values and on unknown outcomes. Live a life you can be proud of. Characters that most embody this theme: Armin, Annie, Levi, Jean, Eren, Reiner, Gabi, Ymir (of the Cadets), Historia

As you might have noticed, I chose to summarize many of these themes in a list of questions, and for good reason: oftentimes, the theme is raising a question but is almost never interested in giving it a straightforward answer. Instead, AOT will often raise a question, and over the course of the story, you get to come to your own conclusions depending on how the characters act. For example, I listed Jean as a character that embodies "meaning in life and death." Does Jean give Marco's death meaning by honoring his memory and values each time he's faced with a moral dilemma? That's up for the audience (and Jean) to decide.

Compared to other shonen that tackles similar themes and questions, this freedom of interpretation was novel for me, and for the most part, I loved it. Fullmetal Alchemist is the only other shonen I can think of that I've seen that touches on similar subject matter, but the tone of FMA is not nearly as dark, bleak, or ambiguous. While I also love FMA, the world of AOT is much more harrowing to navigate, and I found it exhilarating to have my preconceptions of its world challenged at every turn. Such a thematic approach felt grounded since real life is also not so easy to navigate. Unfortunately, this also has a glaring downside, which I will discuss in my "The Problems" section.

The Good

The first 3 seasons and almost everything that entails. To be quite honest I have very little to criticize about this show before the basement reveal. The pacing is almost perfect and I was always on the edge of my seat wanting to know more. The mysteries are intriguing and, upon slowly getting more and more answers, the narrative either only raised more tantalizing questions or completely recontextualized previous scenes, constantly giving the show new breath. The action is exciting, the stakes are heart-poundingly high, the losses are devastating, and the gore is graphic and stomach-churning but I think it necessary to absorb the horrifying and hopeless nature of the setting, which serves to heighten the few victories the characters actually do get to experience. There also isn't much of The Problems yet in these seasons.

The music. The soundtrack is undoubtedly one of the best aspects of this show and is quality throughout.

Animation. While I prefer the fluid and expressive animation of the first three seasons compared to MAPPA's comparatively stiffer animation of the final season, MAPPA still gave plenty of jaw-dropping sequences for the most impactful moments.

A tragic, queer, CANON romance. The fact that Ymir is canonically lesbian is amazing to me if only because I haven't watched a shonen yet where one of the main cast is actually lesbian, let alone has a significant portion of screen time devoted to establishing her unambiguous feelings for another woman who also reciprocates her feelings. AND THEN their romance ends tragically in-universe not because it's gay but because of narrative circumstances that were simply beyond their control or understanding. "My only regret is not marrying you." How romantic is that?

Female character design. Specifically all the big noses. As a big-nose-haver it makes me happy to see women have big noses and still being seen as pretty. That, paired with the fact that women are hardly ever sexualized and are often portrayed just as strong if not stronger than the men was nice to see after being exposed to so many infantilizing and sexualizing shonen tropes. That said, there could have been more diversity in body shape and skin tone.

The setting (of Paradis). I am going to stress here that I strictly like the world-building of Paradis, which is the main setting of the first three seasons. Marley and the rest of the world after Season 3? I'll get into that later.

Erwin vs. Armin. I consider Levi's decision to save Armin over Erwin to be the true thematic climax of this story, and I thought it was exceptionally well done. I've seen endless arguments about whether or not saving Armin was the right choice, so I'll throw in my two cents: if you think Levi should have saved Erwin, you are Missing The Point. In this moment, Levi, a character who fights for the greater good but is not quite as pragmatic as Erwin and who has a deep hope for humanity's future but is not quite as idealistic as Armin must make an emotional choice here, not a tactical one. Maybe saving Erwin might have been better for the Scouts, but the truth is Erwin was selfish, and Levi had already come to terms with this when he told his old commander to "give up on your dream and charge to your death." Armin, on the other hand, had a pure and selfless dream about the world outside the walls, and that is what Levi decided to value for humanity's future. That is the symbolic meaning of that decision, not whether or not Erwin would have been a tactically better commander.

It is enough to simply exist. Manga spoilers for the final chapters ahead. I said this was a question raised by one of the main themes of the story, "Is it enough to simply exist?", and I was pleasantly surprised that the ending gave it an answer through the conversation Armin has with Zeke. After so much deliberation about genocide, sterilization, war, the inherent and unbreakable cycle of violence, and so many other depressing themes surrounding the depraved nature of humanity, having the main takeaway for the series be "we were put on this Earth simply to enjoy it and to enjoy each other" was a cathartic release. I know I'm probably going to cry when that bit is animated.

The Bad

The frustrating thing that is Eren Yeager. I suppose this is biased but I really do not gel with Eren. Even in his Season 1-3 era I did not like him and his one-track angry boy mind, only ever finding him tolerable during the Uprising arc when he got a healthy dose of humility which he immediately ruined with his pitiful self-flagellation in the midst of a dire titan battle but I digress. This characterization does make a whole lot more sense though when he enters Season 4, when all of his personality traits are only slightly twisted in order to make him the villain, ala Walter White. Didn't make him any less frustrating.

The frustrating thing that is Mikasa Ackerman. She started out great. Then Eren turned into a titan for the first time and things quickly went downhill. After that, it seems like her character was retroactively changed from being the stoic and protective older sister to being the blindingly devoted and fussy love interest. I might have been okay with it if she had ANY other defining character traits, or hell, even any relationships outside of Eren and Armin. Manga spoilers, but she doesn't even have a strong relationship with Jean, who she apparently marries in the epilogue. Between Eren and Mikasa being two of the three main characters, I unfortunately felt very little towards them which was a not-so-small problem in my enjoyment of the series.

The humor is... fine. I get it, a show as dark as Attack on Titan probably shouldn't try to be funny, nor would I expect it to be. Still, the few attempts at humor it did have fell flat for me, especially when a lot of it leaned on Sasha's potato and meat gags (and a really uncomfortable torture gag after the Uprising Arc? Hey, what was that about? That was kinda fucked up, right?) Now that I think about it, the hardest I ever laughed while watching this show was when Reiner nonchalantly tells Eren that he and Bertolt are the Armor and Colossal Titans simply because I wasn't expecting the biggest bombshell reveal of the story thus far to be so casually dropped like that.

The Titan mechanics got so fucking convoluted. Don't get me wrong I love a good mystery and I don't necessarily mind the supernatural time-warping twists that the Titan storyline took up to a point. It's just that the story kept adding so many conditions to Titan powers and lore that it was getting hard to keep track of it all. Okay, so the Colossal Titan will create an unavoidable nuke during transformation even though it clearly didn't do that at the raid on Trost, sure. Okay, so Reiner can survive a fatal injury to his person as long as he manages to transfer his consciousness to the Titan body first, sure. Okay, so Eren can't awaken the Founding Titan's ability unless he's in contact with someone of royal blood, sure. Okay, so the Founding Titan's abilities can alter the biology of all Eldians, and also control all Titans, and also deactivate all Titan hardening, and also impose the will of the king onto all its future royal successors, but it's somehow NOT the Titan with the power to see the future? Sure? Okay, so Falco inherited the Jaw Titan, but because he was originally turned with Zeke's spinal fluid, he ALSO inherited aspects of the Beast Titan even though Zeke is still the Beast Titan and it's never been established that the spinal fluid used for the original Titan transformation affected the inheritance of Titan shifter abilities? Why not, at this point.

Uprising Arc and its overly simplistic military coup. I didn't dislike the arc as a whole, but it was a very lengthy detour from the main objectives the series was already on track for and added to the repetition of Eren getting kidnapped. Additionally, I thought the coup to overthrow the old government was too... easy? It was really only made up of two setups: one to expose the corruption of some random military police guy to the press and turn public opinion in favor of the Scouts, and one to expose the government's selfishness to the military commanders enough to convince them to depose their current leaders and pardon the Scouts. Then the Scouts essentially say "Hey Historia here just killed a Titan and has royal blood (trust us) so she's going to be the queen now. Please ignore the fact she is also a Scout and therefore could easily be a puppet queen for the military branch that was until very recently public enemy number one" and everyone just kinda accepts this. I don't know, it didn't do much to sell me on realism in a world that had done so up until that point.

Wow, the stakes are getting pretty high, I wonder if... WAIT, 80%?! That was kind of my reaction to the whole manga finale. I don't mind high stakes, but when we're talking about the horrific genocide of 80% of humanity at the hands of our main character, uh, that scale is a little hard to grasp. This also feeds into The Problems, which I'll get into later, but all in all, I think after a certain point the story just got too big for me to stay believably invested in what was actually happening.

Endgame plot thread irrelevance (especially for the female characters). Why did Historia get a whole story arc just to be sidelined and pregnant for the whole rest of the story? What happened to Yelena? What happened to Mikasa's relationship with the Azumabito clan? What's the deal with Ymir? So many things were rushed at the end that it was disappointing to see so much setup for very little payoff. Unfortunately, the female characters seemed to get the brunt of this.

The Problems

Okay, so this section is basically why I made this post to begin with. I want to address all of the criticisms I've seen for Attack on Titan and give my honest opinion on them because, yes, I do think it's more complex than I've seen people give it credit for, but neither is it free of harmful interpretations either.

On the topic of being Pro-Imperialist, Pro-Nazi, Pro-Facsist, and Pro-Propaganda: Attack on Titan is positioned against all these things. Just because a media depicts something doesn't mean it's condoning or endorsing it. Imperialism, fascism, and propaganda are all present in the story but are very often forces that the main characters must fight against. It might not go as far as to say "military bad" but it definitely says "war bad, genocide bad, euthanasia bad, blind devotion to one's country bad" and a whole host of other issues that it does not depict in a favorable light. Now, the viewpoints of the mangaka might be in question, and I can't say much about the way he supposedly views Imperialist Japan. I'm just saying, in the context of the show, I don't see an unquestioning approval of imperialism being portrayed here.

On the topic of Sexism: eh, maybe. It feels weird to be so nonchalant about that but to be honest, it's not prevalent enough to stand out compared to other shonen. Female characters might not always see fully fleshed-out arcs, but neither are they handled in a way I would deem sexist other than the very strange exception of Mikasa's one-sided obsession with Eren somehow mirroring the "love" a child bride sex slave had for her abuser 2000 years ago. That said, strong characters like Annie, Ymir (of the Cadets), and Gabi manage to have fairly compelling motivations and growth while also being love interests. There's really no fan service to speak of, and some of them even get to be gay. So, you know, I'll take it.

On the topic of Anti-Semitism (Disclaimer: I am not Jewish): yeahhhhhhh... so, up until the end of Season 3, I was confused about this claim. I mean, there were Titans, mindless man-eating monsters that could resemble the blood libel spread about Jewish people, but I thought it was a bit of a stretch. Besides, while the walled city is evidently based on 19th-century Germany, there isn't really a divide between the people who live there and the people who can turn into Titans; given the right conditions, any human character in the show could potentially turn into a Titan, so I didn't see the problem. If anything, I thought it was just a modified take on the zombie apocalypse genre.

Then the basement reveal happened, where it's revealed the walled city we had been following the last 3 seasons wasn't actually the last bastion of humanity as both the audience and the cast once believed; it is actually an island where distinct people called Eldians fled to escape the persecution they faced for their unique ability to turn into Titans. Turns out the rest of the world is populated by many diverse cultures who all hate the Eldians for their ancient Titan-enabled crimes against humanity. The Eldians who aren't trapped on the island of Paradis live in the gated ghettos of the Nazi-Germany-coded nation of Marley and are forced to wear star-embroidered armbands to denote their subhuman status.

Okay. Yikes, I thought. But I still gave it a chance, because as I mentioned before, just because something is depicted in media doesn't mean it's being supported or condoned. I was hoping that, at some point, the claim that Eldians committed atrocities with the Titans or the claim that only Eldians can turn into Titans would be proven wrong. Neither of these hopes came to fruition. It's revealed that Eldians did a lot of good with their Titan powers, true, but they also waged endless warfare in the name of a King that enslaved them. So, while they weren't really to blame, they certainly did commit the crimes that earned the world's ire.

This is a problem. If the imagery of the armbands and the WW2 ghettos were never involved, perhaps I could give the story the benefit of the doubt and see the Eldians as a fictional race created for the purpose of illustrating the cycle of violence and the need to relate to each other as humans first. But the problem is, they are very explicitly compared to Jewish people, thus insinuating, whether intentionally or not, that Jewish people do have these monstrous qualities and did commit crimes that earned them the oppression they continue to face when in reality, they did nothing to deserve it.

As an additional "yikes," there's also the questionable existence of the Tyber family, the only Eldian family in Marley allowed to have wealth and political influence. It's revealed that the Tybers have essentially been pulling Marley's strings the whole time, which... wow, really doesn't do much for anti-Semitic conspiracy theories that Jewish people are actually in control of everything, huh. Thankfully, the Tyber storyline is short-lived, but then there's the Yeagerists, a fascist Eldian party that wants to counter-genocide the entire world before it can genocide Eldians. Triple yikes. Let's throw in Zeke's plan for forced sterilization against his own people for a solid quadruple yikes.

However, there are also important distinctions to make between Eldians and Jewish people that are in the story's favor. While the Eldian people of Marley are mistreated and considered subhuman, Marley still puts in the effort to brainwash them into thinking they are the "good" Eldians in order to earn their unconditional loyalty and turn them into frontline soldiers in their war to conquer other nations and the island of Paradis, something that doesn't really mirror Nazi Germany and gives us a reason to sympathize with the Eldians who were once the "bad guys" of Season 1-3. There's also the fact that 95% of the show's main cast IS Eldian, and up until the basement reveal we've only known them as human. Everything until that point has essentially served to make us identify with Eldians more than anyone else. While the rest of the world may dehumanize them, we the audience react negatively to any mention of them being less than human because we've only ever seen them fight to survive in a world where they thought they were humanity's last hope. We want to see them make it out of this alive.

And here's where my internal conflict with the show lies; it would be so much better if it cut out the WW2 imagery. Sure, there would still be plenty of subtext that could lead people to compare Eldians to Jewish people, but it wouldn't be so distractingly obvious and spur additional real-world comparisons where there aren't any. The sudden jump to 20th-century Germany is also somewhat jarring and I wouldn't have minded if Marley was based more on just another nation of the same era rather than a 100-year jump forward of the same setting (though it does make in-universe sense, what with Paradis being 100 years behind technologically but I digress). Basically, I think a LOT of the story's problems with probably-unintentional-but-still-present anti-semitism could have been avoided if the war and race allegories weren't given the same tact and grace as a David Cage game.

But now that brings me to what I think is Attack on Titan's fatal flaw: thematic ambiguity. "But Anna," you may say, "you said the freedom of interpretation is what you loved about its themes." You're right, I did say that. I still do. But ambiguity is a double-edged sword: it gives the audience freedom to derive unique meaning from the text and connect with it in deep, personal ways, but on the other hand, if a theme is too ambiguous, the author runs the risk of either telling a meaningless story or telling a story that conveys an unintended meaning. I think an author must have SOME intention with a theme if it is to be included, and must provide some sort of guide (usually with a character or two) to point the audience in the right direction. I'll give an example of what I mean for both instances in Attack on Titan.

For an example of a well-executed ambiguous theme, I'll turn to the question "Is humanity worthy of saving if saving it demands the loss of one's own humanity?" that I listed under the "cycle of violence" umbrella. Specifically, this question is raised after the Battle of Stonhess, where Erwin allows a Titan battle to rage in the middle of a populated area for the slim chance he could capture Annie alive and extract information from her. This decision cost hundreds of innocent lives, and worse of all, Annie was of little use to him. Erwin stands behind his decision for the greater good and Armin rationalizes the battle as a net gain, but Jean presents Armin with a counterargument: "If it's that easy to let the fight turn us all into monsters, maybe we don't deserve to win." Still, we aren't given an outright answer to who's right and who's wrong here. Instead, the guide we are given is in the way ideologically-opposed characters like Erwin and Jean are treated by the story: Jean maintains his humanity, minimizes civilian casualties whenever possible, and in the end, is left with few regrets. Erwin, on the other hand, feels the weight of all the lives he callously sacrificed in the name of a "greater good," which we learn was perhaps more selfish than he let on. Upon resigning himself to death, he laments all the innocents who died at his command. It is through these characters that we learn who, ultimately, was in the right, and what that theme is trying to tell us (also coincidentally applying to the theme "live a life you can be proud of.")

For an example of a poorly-executed ambiguous theme, I'll turn to the question "Is it necessary to perpetuate the cycle of violence in order to survive in a world that forces violence?" that I also listed under the "cycle of violence" umbrella. This question is perhaps no more apparent than when the main characters are faced with the terrific power of the Rumbling, basically a Titan-powered WMD Eren uses to preemptively wipe out humanity before it can inevitably attack Paradis. While many characters deliberate the ethics of this, there are two characters who have starkly different viewpoints: we have Floch, a Yeagerist who is in full-hearted support of the attack and is uninterested in saving human lives if they are not Paradis Eldians, and we have Hange, who despite being a Paradis Eldian beats an impassioned fist against a table and delivers the rather on-the-nose line "Genocide is wrong!"

So who's right? Well, anyone with any sort of media literary sense will say "Hange, obviously." Because Hange is portrayed as a good person (usually) and Floch is portrayed as a villain (usually). The problem is both these characters fight valiantly in the name of their cause and incidentally die in the same scene while imparting their wishes to the heroes for how they want the world to be. Anyone watching who harbors even a fraction of Floch's nationalism might see that and say, "Floch was in the right. He righteously died for his country and he almost won against an impossible enemy." There's also the problem that Hange does not give an alternative answer to the Rumbling and even admits they don't have one, they just know the Rumbling is wrong, which doesn't do anything to add to the theme in question. Unfortunately, the Rumbling is presented as the only reliable line of self-defense for Paradis, as it's already established that diplomacy has almost no chance of working and that the only other plan is, of all things, sterilizing the Eldian people to appease the world that wants them dead with as little bloodshed as possible. What would have been the only other recourse, the order of a partial Rumbling to wipe out the world's military bases, is immediately taken off the table when it's revealed Eren never had any intention of doing that. Therefore, the story doesn't give us any answer to this question at all, since the characters never get to find an alternate solution for themselves and are forced to simply stop the Rumbling before it can kill too many people despite the risk of dying in the process or play along with Eren's predetermined plan. For a story so bent on saying "genocide is wrong" it does a weirdly good job of presenting it as a survival tactic.

Now, I wouldn't normally have that much of a problem if a story fumbled a theme or two. Not everything has to land perfectly. That said, Attack on Titan NEEDED to deliver these themes clearer than it did, because of one major reason: it was dealing with questions involving fascism, genocide, war, and eugenics. You should not casually raise these issues as a backdrop to a theme that can't be delivered on, because then you run the risk of attracting people who very much are pro-fascist, pro-genocide, pro-war, and pro-eugenics and will blatantly misinterpret everything in the text in order to warp it and fit their worldview (a risk I think FMA managed to avoid by being very blunt with where it stood on those same issues). On the flip side, you'll also repel people who otherwise might have loved the story because at some point they heard someone say "Oh yeah Attack on Titan is awesome, the Yeagerists are cool and I agree with the main character's plan for genocide," and rightfully be put off from that. Then they'll turn around and tell the next person, "Hey, don't watch that, I heard it's pro-fascist and pro-genocide," and that person will go "Oh thanks I didn't know that, I'll stay away from it," and that person will be me for the last ten years.

The Characters

Eren and Mikasa: I'm lumping these two together because I already talked about them at length, but I will say, for being the two main characters on which the finale hinged, I think they were both too simplistic to fully deliver on any of the complex themes they represented. Hell, when listing all the themes each character embodied, I only listed Mikasa under one of them, which is not great for a deuteragonist. Not only that, but Mikasa didn't even really deliver on her one theme: she broke the Titan curse by "letting go of her enslaving love for Eren," but did she really? She kissed and then absconded with his decapitated head to give him a proper burial, then returned each year to his grave with Jean and her family (who remained faceless) to leave a flower behind for him. I get it, he was important to her as a childhood friend and that alone means she should try to remember him despite the monster he turned into, but the framing of this suggests she never really let go of him and was shackled to his memory even as she tried to move on.

Armin: The thing about Armin is that while I ultimately think he's the heart of the story and the main driving force for good (as evidenced by the fact he's the only character I listed under ALL the themes I mentioned earlier), he also reads more like a symbol than a character. That's fine, a character doesn't need to go through an arc to be good, but for me, personally, a character in this kind of setting needs some form of growth for me to form an attachment to them. I'm not just talking about how Armin steadily grows okay with murder because that still doesn't do much to change his rosy outlook on life. The most excited I ever got about Armin's development was when he manipulated Bertholdt into thinking Annie was being tortured because holy shit that's kinda dark for Armin and I thought maybe his strategic mindset was going to start getting the better of his morals, but then that's never really touched on again. It's because I was never quite sure what the rhyme or reason was behind his actions that I found myself disconnected from him as a character, despite being inspired by him as a symbol.

Jean: My favorite character and a sorely underrated one at that. Won't say anything more about him here because I'm dedicating it to the Conclusion.

Levi: Second favorite character. Back when Attack on Titan's popularity was at its peak, I would see Levi on my dash all the time and I would roll my eyes thinking he was just another brooding anime bad boy the girls were fawning over. But I get it now. Yeah, he can brood, and yeah, he can be a bad boy as an ex-criminal who is no stranger to violence, but most of all he's compassionate. He cares deeply about the lives of his comrades and almost never values the "greater good" when decisions are left up to him. Granted, I think he becomes a little one-note after the Erwin vs Armin choice when he resolves that his only motivation from now on will be killing Zeke, but you know, after everything Zeke put him through, I think he earned it.

Hange: Third favorite character. They injected much-needed energy and sincerity into the story right from the start, and they only became more complex as the story went on and circumstances forced more and more responsibility onto them. I'm also glad that, while they are a good and moral character, they also don't mull over hard decisions that a veteran soldier probably wouldn't mull over. If worse comes to worst, they know they may have to resort to torture or violence to protect their comrades and the pursuit of truth. Still, they almost never push this any further than necessary, unlike Erwin before them.

Reiner: Fourth favorite character. I had basically no opinion on Reiner until Season 2 when he pushed Connie out of the way of a Titan's mouth and I thought "he's kinda cool." And then so so so much happens after that. I almost never knew how to feel about him. Is he the bad guy? He's killed so many people, he has to be. But then, why do I still like him? Why do I feel so bad for him? Season 4 only added to those mixed feelings, showing him to be suicidal and suffering from PTSD after all the violence he inflicted when he was just a child soldier. I think most of the themes about "people are people" is best illustrated in Reiner, and how he is able to overcome the pain of life through his dedication to the next generation and to the former friends he had hurt in the past.

Ymir (of the Cadets): Fifth favorite character. Like Reiner, I didn't really have any opinion on her until Season 2. While her contribution to the story is brief, it did a whole lot. Her backstory is technically our first introduction to a world outside the walls which also introduced a whole new mystery. Also, her love for Historia was probably the most genuine example of romantic love I can point to in the entire story, and the most emotionally touching one at that. She's also the one who introduces the theme "live a life you can be proud of" verbatim, which proves to be important for everyone.

Sasha and Connie: Truth is, I don't really have any favorites after Ymir, and how I feel about everyone else is some variation on neutral (except Floch). As for Sasha and Connie, I'm throwing them in the same bucket of "likable-enough comic-relief characters that have some semblance of a character arc but not nearly enough to justify their screentime." People might hate me for this, but I actually think Sasha contributed more to the narrative when she was dead than she did when she was alive. That doesn't mean I wasn't sad when she died, though.

Erwin: People might hate me for this too, but I think Erwin is overrated. I think many dudebro fans see him as the peak representation of heroic masculinity, as an unflinching and at times ruthless commander who takes charge and shows no weakness. That is not true. It's revealed Erwin does have a weakness, a selfish drive to redeem his father's suspicions about the outside world, a drive that makes him fear his own premature death, in the end. True, that drive has paved the way for the Scouts to clear impossible hurdles but also has it led to many senseless and brutal deaths that the story does not intend to justify. Erwin is flawed, incredibly so, and I wish more people could see that.

Historia: I had no opinion of her in Seasons 1-2, even during the love story she had with Ymir. It wasn't until the Uprising arc that she grew on me, as she started to mature beyond her "Disney princess" persona that had previously seemed so out of place in a story like this. That said, after she got pregnant in Season 4, I was disappointed to see that there wasn't much of a point to her character anymore despite being the literal queen.

Annie: I wanted to like Annie. I wanted so badly to like Annie. That's really only for aesthetic reasons because when the show was at its peak I saw her on my dash and fell in love with her as a fellow short blonde girl with a big nose and a name that starts with Ann. After getting to know her character... well, I don't dislike her. I think she served her role in the story well enough. She's just fairly simple once you learn her motivation, and she's hard to get attached to if you don't like emotionally-constipated characters.

Bertholdt: Oh, Berry. Unfortunately, every feeling I could have had for him I already felt 5x more for Reiner, so Berry became rather redundant. Also, his constant stare unnerved me. I did feel bad when he died though. RIP Berry.

Marlow: He didn't have a huge part in the story, but I think he was significant if only for one moment: the second before his death when he thinks of Hitch. Here we are given an everyman who wanted to rise to his calling and dedicate himself to the greater good, who was so driven by ideals and politics that he bravely gave his life for the cause he believed was right, but just before he meets his end, it's revealed to him that what he really wanted was a life with the girl he only just realized he loved. I think that one moment tragically encapsulated the main message of the story; we are here simply to enjoy life and enjoy each other.

Gabi: Again, people might hate me for this, but I liked Gabi. I think she did a good job of being a mirror of what Eren could have been had he been born in Marley, and/or if he had learned to sympathize enough with the enemy to have given up on his revenge plan. She went through a lot of horrors to get the growth she did, and I don't really understand the vitriol some fans have for her, even considering the fact she killed Sasha since killing Sasha and then learning that doing that was a bad thing through the kindness of Sasha's family was kind of the point. Also, as if Eren wouldn't have done the same thing in her shoes. She's a brainwashed child soldier, come on.

Falco: It was a breath of fresh air to have, like, one genuinely nice good kid for once. He's a necessary addition to Gabi's arc I think, since he's the one that keeps her grounded and helps her realize that the Paradis Eldians are not evil. His Jaw/Beast Titan powers are OP though.

Zeke: Hated him throughout all of Season 3 besides only knowing him as the Beast Titan. Season 4 rolled around and I did start to sympathize with him given his upbringing and the way his brother Eren used him after thinking he finally had a family he could be close with. I still didn't feel all that bad when bad things happened to him though, given the things he's willing to do to impose a sterilization "solution" to his own people.

Pieck: Getting into "they're fine but don't add much to the story" territory here. She's smart and has a sleepy-girl charm about her, I guess. She also has that one cool moment where she points to Eren as the enemy, but as far as her relationship with the main characters goes, she basically has none, which makes it hard for me to get invested in her.

Onyankopon, Yelena, Magath, and Kiyomi: Lumping all these characters together as the notable non-Eldians with their own agendas. I had no strong opinion on any of them. Onyankopon was cool, but I thought Magath changed his stance on Paradis too easily in the end, and Yelena and Kiyomi barely contributed anything that couldn't have been done by some other character. Their true purpose was really just to establish that there were different cultures outside of Paradis.

Floch: Saved the best for last. And by best, I mean worst. He's the anti-Jean, if you will; the everyman who, when faced with dire circumstances, turns to brutality and strength rather than humanity and compassion. It's fitting, I think, that he's the one who not only advocates saving Erwin, Jean's ideological opposite ("We need a devil!") but he's also the one who tempts Jean into a character regression since he's a representation of what Jean could have become if he stayed what he was like early Season 1. Other than that, he's a cupcake-head fascist whose dumb face I got tired of looking at even before he become a fascist. I just fucking hate Floch, man.

Every other character I either don't have anything much to say about, like Grisha, Shaddis, Pixis, Rod Reiss, and Hitch, or they died too early for me to say much about, like Porco, Petra, and Marco (although I did love Marco and I was incredibly sad when he died).

Conclusion (and why Jean is the best character you can't change my mind)

So, to take my thesis-length thoughts and distill them into one coherent sentence, my overall feeling on Attack on Titan is this: it's a well-paced, well-constructed story that is consistently engaging and thought-provoking about real-world issues, but is ultimately held back by its final act where the scale and allegory become too big and clunky for the story to properly handle. Many things that were so well set up in the previous three seasons sadly unravel at the finish line. That said, that doesn't mean there is no meaningful or worthwhile conclusion to be had in Attack on Titan; I think it still had a stronger finish than, say, HBO's Game of Thrones. I connected with it in a deep way that I haven't connected to any other piece of media lately besides maybe when I played Dragon Age last year, another story that raised thought-provoking themes about real-world issues but with admittedly clunky allegory. Most notably, though, I think my enjoyment of Attack on Titan was highly dependent on one character in particular, a character who acted as a reliable anchor point to come back to whenever the bigger ideas got away from the story.

Here's where Jean comes in. While Eren, Mikasa, and Armin are essentially mouthpieces and figureheads for the much-too-big themes they represent and are somewhat washed out as characters because of it, Jean delivers on all his themes perfectly while maintaining his believability as a character. In this world, he is basically just some guy; despite being talented, he's not as driven as Eren, he's not as strong as Mikasa, and he's not as idealistic as Armin. Jean himself recognizes all these things, but he also recognizes how their strengths also come with weaknesses that he can make up for. He sees Eren as cool but also suicidally reckless, he sees Mikasa as capable but also overly-dependent, he sees Armin as brilliant but also in need of a backbone. He then steps up to fill those deficiencies; to answer Eren's recklessness, he does everything he can to preserve his own life so that he can continue to serve others; to answer Mikasa's dependency on Eren, he makes his own decisions and creates strategies to get everyone out of trouble, not just Eren; to answer Armin's cowardice, he steps up and relays Armin's genius plans but with a stronger sense of leadership and authority.

But he wasn't always like this, and that's the most important part; Jean started as a selfish, cowardly, and entitled asshole. Floch says this outright. The only thing early Season 1 Jean cared about was securing his place in the top 10 and choosing a position among the Miltary Police where he could live the rest of his life in peace and luxury, the rest of the cadets be damned. I think this is a pitfall a lot of people in the real world can fall into: in a highly competitive and individualistic society, people have little incentive not to step on others in order to achieve a better life for themselves, and this is the very pitfall Jean nearly falls into. It's a relatable flaw, as little as people might want to admit it.

Yet, among all of Jean's negative pre-Trost qualities, he has two that can be seen as positive: his keen perception and his blunt honesty. Marco tells him as much. After the first battle in Trost, Jean, despite his reluctance to take up responsibility, sees opportunities to get his fellow cadets to safety and uses his insight into their strengths and weaknesses to guide as many of them as he can since he's the only one at the time who can take up leadership. Afterward, Marco tells him he makes a good leader not because he's strong, but because he knows what it means to be weak. He is able to lead because he doesn't delude himself with false hopes or illusions of grandeur; he knows exactly what is at stake and what hurdles everyone needs to overcome in order to have a chance at both winning and surviving. Jean is humbled and inspired by this, realizing that he would better serve in a field where he could potentially save lives instead of wasting his talents in the Military Police where he would have nothing to apply himself for.

But his real call to action is Marco's death. After losing his one true friend, Jean resolves to give up his dream of the Military Police and dedicate himself to the Scouts, where he can live up to the potential Marco always saw in him. If we are to take the theme of "true freedom is the ability to give up a long-held dream" to heart, then Jean is actually one of the first characters to achieve true freedom in this story. That doesn't mean it was easy. Freedom comes with the burden of responsibility, and his decision to join the Scouts isn't framed as triumphant or inspiring but instead as terrifying and traumatic. But that's another aspect of real life I think is captured by Jean's character: the decision to become a better person is not always easy, and it often requires a continual and conscious effort to push comfort zones, overcome bad habits, and step into the terrifying unknown, but you still have to do it.

While Jean does change for the better because of this decision (a change even his fellow cadets take notice of), his battle to grow as a person is never over. When faced with life-or-death situations as a Scout, he overcomes his cowardice to leap into action and save others whenever he knows he can. When faced with the selfishness of the Military Police, he is reassured by the knowledge that his decision not to join them saved him from that ignorant mindset. When faced with the consequences of "the greater good," he questions what it means for humanity if serving a grand purpose means they should turn a blind eye to the innocent. When faced with the prospect of having to kill other humans, he grapples with the morality of murder and what it means if he can't pull the trigger to save his friends. When faced with the crowning of Historia, he voices his concern against authority that they're forcing her into another role after she had just fought to reclaim her own identity from her father. When faced with the temptation to regress, ignore genocide, and settle for the easy life he always wanted in his youth, he resists the urge to fall back onto his dream and continues fighting even when it's the hardest thing he could ever do. When faced with the revelation that Reiner killed his friend Marco, he briefly gives into his resentment and anger but later works past it and admits there are more similarities between them than there are differences. When faced with no other choice but to stop the Rumbling, he's the first to bring Mikasa to the painful but necessary realization that they must kill their friend Eren in order to save countless innocent lives, as much as he doesn't want to do that.

Over and over again, Jean is presented with a moral dilemma, and over and over again, Jean chooses to come out of it as a better person despite it all. Because he achieved the freedom to choose who he wants to be so early in the story, the rest of his arc is a revelation that such freedom comes with constant and painful doubt. Yet, Jean never shies away from exploring the moral ambiguity of his world and the actions it makes him take. Because he is perceptive and honest, he's quick to question everything that is presented to him and never takes any one person's perspective as the only undeniable truth. Questioning life at every turn isn't easy either; it takes effort and courage and vigilance, and even when that way of life wears away at Jean, he does it anyway. If he doesn't, he'll end up just like the pitiful and ignorant Military Police he could have easily become. To me, that arc is so much more relatable than any other arc presented in this story. This is the very real struggle of a regular guy navigating a complicated world of war, eugenics, nationalism, and genocide, and is just trying to make it out as a decent person in the middle of it all. Really, isn't that all any of us are?

I think it's also telling that Floch tempts Jean to join the Yeagerists not with the argument that Eren and his plan for genocide is right, because deep down I think he knows Jean would have never agreed with that. Instead, he tempts him with the promise of comfort and a life free of resistance. I think that's the most revealing truth of all: Jean, the representation of humanity and its struggle with its own morality would never have gone along with genocide just for the sake of it. I think most people are too decent to think genocide is in any way justified when it's framed that way. Instead, Jean is only tempted by how the decision to join the Yeagerists and turn a blind eye would affect him and his own life, reframing the problem as a self-preserving one and retroactively justifying the Rumbling not as what is right but as what is futile for any one person to try to stop. That, I think, reflects the true struggle of humanity, the struggle to sacrifice your own self-interest whenever it conflicts with the need to help others.

While other characters like Mikasa, Eren, and Armin are more or less the same character at the end of the story as they are in the beginning, Jean is in a perpetual state of change, which means he also acts as a terrific mirror and foil for so many characters throughout the story depending on what stage of character development he's in. He starts as a foil to Eren, someone who harbors just as much hot-headed ego as Jean, but unlike Jean has all the conviction to back it up. As Jean grows, he continues to foil Eren by proving conviction can not only be gained but can be reigned in and redirected to be used as a force to do good instead of a force for destructive revenge. He then mirrors Armin, a character who is just as thoughtful and questioning as Jean but isn't as weighed down by selfish desires, but neither does that give much weight to Armin's moral dilemmas when he chooses to do the less moral thing than Jean does in his shoes. Jean and Armin eventually learn to work together, combining their respective strengths and weaknesses to become effective leaders in tandem. Interestingly, I learned that Armin and Jean were originally written to be the same character but were separated to reflect two different sides of humanity, perhaps to illustrate humanity's desire to reach outside the walls through Armin and humanity's struggle to resist the comfort of the walls through Jean. While I think that it was a good decision to separate them in the end, I also think that it robbed Armin of Jean's character development and robbed Jean of Armin's plot relevance. Then, of course, there's Jean's mirror for Floch, but I already touched on that in Floch's character summary so I won't retread it here.

But perhaps my favorite foil of Jean's is Reiner. More than Eren or Armin, Jean is inherently connected to Reiner through the death of Marco. While Reiner is positioned in Season 4 to also be a mirror for Eren, I think Reiner's similar loss of his friend Marcel (a friend who, unlike what Marco did for Jean, did the opposite of inspire Reiner by admitting that Reiner was never actually good enough for the role he got and only earned it by Marcel's intervention to protect his brother) positions Reiner as a more apt foil to Jean instead. Reiner is sent on a trajectory where he only clings harder to his dreams of becoming a hero for Marley, winning the affection of his mother and father, and proving himself worthy of his role, never willing to let those dreams go in the face of Marcel's death unlike Jean had done after losing Marco. Because he clings to this dream so dearly, he kills many innocent people to achieve it, again displaying the polar opposite mindset of Jean who fights instead to save innocent lives. But Reiner isn't without a heart, and eventually, the weight of his sins burdens him. How does he deal with it? Not by questioning or confronting reality like Jean does, but by compartmentalizing himself and rationalizing his actions through the use of multiple personas, essentially denying responsibility for his sins and avoiding the painful self-reflection he must undergo to accept accountability for what he's done.

Reiner is only able to truly self-reflect when he returns to Marley, where the reconciliation of who he is catches up with him and drives him to become suicidal, but neither is he deluded by the dream he once clung to anymore. Now that he's accepted responsibility, he joins up with Jean's group, admits he killed Marco, and accepts the brutal punishment Jean has for him. It's only after this moment that Jean makes the realization that they're the same because they are now. They've both undergone a change and while it took them in many different directions, in the end, they've come to the same point; despite their respective sins or lack thereof, they're both fighting to become better people than who they once were. And in the finale, it is Jean who reassures Reiner that he is and will always be a Scout because he's fighting to save humanity, just like they had sworn to do as youths. Jean never forgot what it was they were fighting for, and because of that, I think Jean earns his place as the true moral compass of the series.

Wow, this really got away from me; Do you love the color of the Attack on Titan thoughts post? Anyways, if you managed to read all of this, I'm flattered you stuck around to entertain all my ramblings on a series that is basically over after a decade-long run that I was too late to jump on. With all my thoughts out of the way, I'm going to go reblog some Jean posts now, because he's the best character and no, you can't change my mind.

#oh this is so long i am so so sorry #it's as my sister called it: do you love the color of the attack on titan thoughts post #just beware when clicking on the read more #anna watches attack on titan

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little-fae-hero · 23 days ago

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Linked Universe, The Hero of Legend

My headcanons/aus

Art by Atro

Colored version.

Long talk/Ideas under the cut, warning for slightly dark topics. (Note: I may add stuff over time, but nothing will be deleted from the list)

Twilight. Wind. Time. Hyrule. Four. Sky. War. Wild.

Legend (A link to the past, Link’s awakening, oracle ages & seasons, A link between worlds). Other nicknames: The veteran, grumpy pants, Mr. Hero, Hylia’s bastard, Zelda’s Twin.

Hero’s title: Hero of the past, Hero of Koholint, Hero of the Oracles, Hero of Holodrum, Hero of Labrynna, Hero of Lorule.

God that has claim over his soul: Hylia

Part of First’s soul: Caution

History:

The first adventure was a Link to the past, after defeating Ganon it was revealed to Link that he was not only Zelda’s twin but the biological child of Hylia, the golden goddess. Link didn’t want to believe it so he hopped on a ship and left, leading him to koholint. The wind fish picked Legend for his divine blood to help wake him.

Both saving the orcales came from Link not wanting to be home, however after the second one he was convinced bad stuff would happen where he went so he opted to go home and retire.

Later, hyrule was attacked leaving Link alone to rescue it. He also meets a mysterious merchant called Ravio who basically becomes his roommate. It’s revealed Ravio and his sister, Hilda are Link and Zelda counterparts with their mother being a goddess, the Lorule version of Hylia. The humans of that world wanted to get rid of their triforce, basically destroying and corrupting the gods that once protected them.

Link uses the triforce and wishes for their triforce back, saving Lorule. Originally they destroyed their ability to travel between worlds. However, both Link and Ravio wishing for the other plus their demigod blood allows Ravio to travel back to Hyrule. Link tried to avoid doing another big adventure after that, just helping people like you should before he ripped away to LU.

Death: Unknown….

Interest stuff/Headcanons:

Being a demigod is stained on Legend’s body, mostly by his hair which will flow like water when magic is used or high emotions, or faint tattoos that cover his face and body.

All gods have those tattoos when posing as humans, hence why their children have them. However, most are so faint, only about a shade lighter than their skin tone that they are unnoticeable unless in the right light. But they glow when their natural magic is used.

Because of this, Legend refuses to use any of his natural magic, often relying on magical items and jewelry, playing himself off as a lucky adventurer.

He loves jewelry also because of how shiny it is.

The mermaid tail he can get was because of his mother, as one of her domains is water.

Because of the Mermaid tail thing, he can’t really wear pants sense there's a risk of them being destroyed if he hits water.

Legend despises being Hylia’s son and technically a prince, especially since most see male children of the royal family as a curse waiting to happen.

Legend really loved Koholint, he wasn’t a demigod, he didn’t have any weird powers or random quest. It was so bad that if it wasn’t for his mother’s blessing he likely would have drowned.

The only reason Legend woke the Windfish and broke the pocket realm that he came to love was because of Marin.

Koholint was a pocket realm, populated by people that was close enough to the Windfish resting place. Legend doesn’t know this and spent his next couple of adventures looking for Marin, as he physically had some items given to him by her.

Because of Marin he actually uses what little magic leaks out around him and grows the flowers she kept in her hair, always keeping one on him.

You can follow Legend’s path with ease as the flowers mark where he has rested.

He can play any instrument you hand him.

Legend form in dark areas, a pink rabbit, because rabbits are one his mother animals. He despises this of course.

Legend normally is very untrusting after his first two adventures, however something about Ravio made the hero trust him.

Ravio looks exactly like him, same weird faint markings, same face, same body. It’s just the colors that are wrong.

Legend keeps everything from his adventures with the mentality of ‘I rather have it and not need it than need it and not have it.’

Because of his mother, Legend picks up on languages and puzzles very easily. It only takes him about a week in a new area before he can speak and read it.

Despite having the Triforce of Courage, Legend’s counterpart Ravio, actually has the Lorule Triforce of Wisdom.

All his adventures have him plagued by nightmares; Legend has to use a bit of magic to get a restful sleep.

He’s good at finding maps and keys, as well as places to eat.

While it’s really hard to poison him, he can still taste the food. So could he eat rotten food, yes, will he? no.

Legend has joint pain, mainly from refusing to use his magic to heal wounds and waiting until he had potion or fairies, the time left its mark.

He has a soft spot for rabbits and seagulls.

Legend is the one who gave Hyrule his first sword. After his death is spirit remained trying to save Hyrule, and ending up looking after the hero as a merchant.

---

Legend is done, let me know you thoughts.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #legend of zelda #linked universe legend #lu legend #linkeduniverse legend #hero of legend #linked universe au #link #loz #lu headcanons #linked universe headcanon #lu au #fae lu au

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lina-lovebug · 1 year ago

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I'd Fight The Devil

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Background: (Y/N) Morningstar with her partner, Alastor, has decided to put some of the Overlords in their place.

Warning: Alastor being Alastor, mentions of pregnancy but no one's pregnant, and Alastor might have a breeding kink

_ _ _

"(Y/N)! What a surpri-!"

"I believe that's Princess (Y/N) Morningstar, Heir to the throne of Hell, and Duchess of Chaos - to you," Alastor loved doing this. He adored how (Y/N) had decided to start using her true power, and to bring respect back to her name.

The family name, to be exact.

Valentino chuckled nervously as (Y/N) scoped out the place, her horns ever presenting and tail flicking with annoyance.

"What a pleasure to be hosting you, Princess. What would be the reason for this visit?" Valentino asked, offering her a drink.

"I'm fine, thank you," She dismissed it, already smelling the poison inside the cocktail.

"I'm here to discuss Angel Dust, and your contract with him."

"If he's too much trouble for the hotel, I'll happily-"

"You're the one causing the trouble," Alastor cut him off.

Valentino sputtered, "me?!"

"You can feign innocence all you wish, Val, but I've heard that you've called my sister a bimbo, along with many other colorful names," (Y/N) slowly stood up, leaning over his desk as the lights started to go out - one by one.

"Charlie is nice. She's always been the kinder of us Morningstars, but apparently this makes you think that you can go and soil our name. My father could have strung every sinner on a hook for eternity, torturing you all second by second as your screams sung into our great halls," no one had been unfortunate enough to see the form of (Y/N) Morningstar, and Val was one of them.

Her height expanded to nine feet tall, her pretty black nails forming into claws and her eyes ablaze with scarlet serpent pupils.

And wings - oh great black wings that could make even Adam rethink his attack.

When he was still alive, of course.

"And you sully his gift by mocking us."

"Look, Vox did it first! Okay?! He said you'd never-!" Val tripped on a tentacle that came from her beloved Alastor, who dropped a TV by his feet.

But not just any TV.

"Oh God," Val gasped, "Vox. . .?"

"I took care of him earlier," Alastor grinned, still reminiscent on his screams.

"I couldn't have my dear (Y/N) sully her hands with his filth. But whatever the Princess wants, she gets."

Oh to see her come into her power was as chilling as death itself.

"You're so romantic, Alastor," (Y/N) smiled.

That's when Valentino spotted it. On the left hand of (Y/N) Morningstar was a ruby wedding ring, the band pure gold.

Alastor finally did it.

He climbed up the latter, but not through power.

Well yes, through power, but he certified that it would always be his.

By marrying Lucifers daughter.

"We're matching, isn't it adorable?" Alastor showed off his own wedding band, ruby's encrusted inside of it.

"Now, where were we?" She grinned, and as an engagement gift, the screams of Vox and Valentino were broadcasted throughout all of Hell.

And they say chivalry is dead.

_ ☆ _

"They're fucking crazy."

"They're made for each other."

On that, Angel Dust and Husker could agree.

The lovely couple had become the center of Hells attention after their engagement was announced, and even though Alastor thought it would be hilarious for Lucifer to find out through the papers, she told him first.

And he cried.

"Oh my baby is all grown up!" Lucifer sobbed loudly, clinging onto her legs, "look at you! You-you used to be this small!" Lucifer grabbed a duck, "and you were so tiny and so cute!"

"Am I invited?" Lucifer squeaked, staring up into her eyes.

"Yes, dad," She smiled, bringing him up to his feet, "but we want to wait a bit before we plan anything."

"You know she used to bite my finger?!" Lucifer grabbed the baby pictures of little (Y/N), "look at how small she was! Oh, and this one is my favorite!"

Alastor truly didn't mind how touchy Lucifer had become with him, but thankfully, Lucifer also knew when to stop.

"Wait, is that why you're getting married?! Did you impregnate my daughter?!" Lucifer gasped, shoving his hand on her stomach.

"Dad! Dad, no! I'm not pregnant!" She quickly cleared up.

"Unfortunately," Alastor muttered to himself. Oh to see her belly swell with his children - his own spawn, it made his cock twitch at the thought.

He was fond of children but his own? Oh he'd spoil his little prince or princess with all the blood sacrifices the world had to offer.

"Yeah but you know what marriage entails, kiddo!" He pointed at them both with finger guns, "first comes love, then comes marriage, then comes a baby-oh my GOD I'll be a grandpa!"

He started crying again.

She sighed, "at least we know our hypothetical child will be taken care of."

Alastor nodded, "I could not have picked a better father-in-law."

At this point, Lucifer was ugly crying.

Alastor looked at his beloved with a soft gaze as she tried calming her father down. To be honest, Alastor never thought he would ever find solace in Hell. He anticipated every day being a fight for his life, always looking over his shoulder and always striving for more power. And as cheesy as it sounded, he saw (Y/N) as his shining light. She brought out his sad heart, and for the first time in his life, he wished his mother was with him.

To see just what a wonderful woman he managed to catch.

#alastor imagine #hazbin hotel imagine #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader

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deadsetobsessions · 7 months ago

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Much of his misery were consequences of his own making. Danny accepted that. He drowned in it, really.

But this?

Jason stood before him, dressed in traffic cone colors in front of a still but apprehensive Batman. Jason- that was his baby brother, damn it, this universe’s version of his older sister!- hunched in on himself, knowing he had been caught and recognized. Danny’s world narrowed and crumpled onto itself, the bloodied face of his dead sister superimposed on Jason’s masked one.

This was all Batman’s fault.

Suddenly, he remembered all those time Jazz looked at him with terror in her eyes. She wasn’t scared of him. No, she was scared for him.

Looking back, Danny finally understood the fragile look in her eyes when he asked her- quietly, so his parents didn’t hear- to patch him up. He had broken her heart, had soured it with fear tempered by love. Danny stared at his baby brother- his sister, with that red hair and impossibly blue eyes and that kind but sharp wit- and realized with a sense of finality that he too was about to experience that heartbreak. He too would know the pain of watching some break themselves for a city they loved, a sense of responsibility he wished they didn’t have- one that he had, before it and grief tore everything away from him.

But Danny wasn’t willing to admit defeat. He would rather suffer another half death than let a life of vigilantism hurt his loved ones. The world could burn. He’d learned a long time ago what this life cost and Danny wasn’t going to lose Jason too.

He set down the bottle of wine with a loud and clear thunk. It was untouched. He hadn’t opened it, hadn’t had the chance to when the duo dropped down unsuspectingly on his apartment roof top.

“No,” Danny said, voice filled with crackling brimstone and spine laced with cold hard steel. It’s the voice he used when he fought Vlad. It’s the voice he had when he helped the Ancients shut Pariah Dark away. It was the voice he had when he begged Jazz to not die.

“Wait, Danny,” Jason- Robin, Batman put his little brother in bright kill-target clothes and named him after a fucking bird- pleaded. Danny cut him off, in a way he’s never done before. He loved it when Jason talked. It was a sign that Jason felt safe enough to talk about his interests and things he cared about without fear of retaliation.

“No,” he repeated, face carefully blank. Jason didn’t like aggressiveness. It reminded him of terrible days, so Danny watched himself around Jason, learning the neutral face and carefully non threatening body language until he did it like breathing. “We will be having words on the matter of you lying to me, sneaking out, and meeting up with a strange old man later. But you, Jason Peter Todd, are done with whatever this is right now. Go inside, change, eat, and wait.”

“You’re drinking again,” Jason mulishly said, though the stubbornness was dulled by his apprehensiveness. “I ain’t taking-”

“And I will apologize for that later. Home. Now, please.”

Jason paused. His eyes, surrounded by the fabric of a domino mask, surveyed Danny’s stance. He mumbled a gritted “fine.” With one last glance, Jason disappeared off the scaffolding- giving Danny half a heart attack because when the hell did Jason learn to do that? What if he got hurt??- and into the open window of his bedroom.

Danny kept eyes-to-lense contact with Batman the entire time.

“Close the window,” he called down to Jason, glaring at Batman the entire time.

He heard a curse mixed with grumbling before Jason closed the window with a thud.

Danny immediately rounded on Batman.

“You. How dare you trick my baby brother into all of this?” His eyes glowed a sickening green, hazy in the beginning of a drizzling Gotham rain.

“He would have done it with or without me. This way, he has support.”

“You? Support? You think that’s enough? You think you’re enough?” Danny stalked closer. He was stone cold sober now, and Batman was about to witness what he was capable of when he’s sober.

“I’m better than nothing,” Batman growled.

“No. You’re worse,” Danny snapped at him. The thing about heroes, current or former ones like Danny, was that they tended to know what made people tick. It was how they knew to comfort them, after all. Danny honed in, words brutal and cutting. “You encourage him, yes, but you encourage him to go into this life of yours like it’s a healthy thing to do. Without you, he’d be stopping muggings here and there. Maybe, he’d get in trouble with a crime syndicate. But you? You take a dip in the worst Gotham has to offer, and you expect it to never taint you? You think you’re protecting him but what you’re really doing is dragging him with you. The mud you track in will eventually drown my baby brother, Batman.”

Batman tilted his stupid pointy eared head. “You have experience with this,” he said quietly. A realization.

“You don’t know what it’s like to lose someone because you decided to pull him into this life. I do. So don’t fucking drag him into your fight because he deserves a chance at a life that won’t try its damn hardest to break him. Your self sacrifice and sense of justice will mean nothing to a dead boy.”

Because in the end, it hadn’t mattered for Danny.

Because in the end, he was still left bereft of the family he had and made, all because he chose responsibility.

Because in the end, the dead boy was Danny, but he was left alive enough to grieve.

Danny took a deep, wavering breath before whirling on his heels and marching back inside. Batman watched him walk away. He took a moment before walking down to their apartment.

——

Jason sat at their dining table, homework out and Robin mask laid carefully on the table. He’d changed into his pjs while Danny laid into Batman and seemed to be on his best behavior. Danny took a moment to lean against the doorway, quietly cherishing the last moments of peace he’ll ever know.

He needs your support, Jazz whispered into his ears.

He needs to not be a vigilante, Danny argued back. His throat missed the spice of the wine he’d yet to drink. But he’d promised not to drink around Jason.

And when had telling vigilantes no crime fighting ever work, dork? Jazz laughed. It certainly hadn’t worked with you, Invis-o-bill.

It made Danny’s heart ache something fierce and he didn’t think he’d ever stop missing his older sister.

I just… don’t want to lose him.

I know. Tell him that. But you will if you don’t support him. You will, because he’ll go off on his own like you did. Don’t do our brother dirty, Danny.

It probably wasn’t healthy to be talking to himself like this.

He walked into the room. Jason stiffened. Ah, he should have noticed. Jason always had exceptional spatial awareness, but recently he’d been even more so. Danny knew why, now.

He sat himself across from Jason, who set his jaw stubbornly. He couldn’t look Danny in the eyes, though, and kept fiddling the edges of his red “The Flash” themed pajama shirt.

Danny couldn’t bring it in himself to be anything but gentle, even in his anger.

“Do you want to tell me why you want to be… Robin?”

“Yeah, it’s Robin,” Jason crossed his arms, looking defensive. His fingers now drummed anxiously on the worn wooden table Danny had picked up for their kitchen/dining area. “I wanna help. Ya- y’helping but not enough. I gotta do more.”

Danny tried very very hard not to bury his face into his hands and scream. He did, however, make a dying whale noise that had Jason making offended faces.

“I thought Alley kids were supposed to have self preservation instincts?” Danny bemoaned.

“How d’ya think I’m still alive?” Jason shot back. “Robin’s magic. The other day-”

See, Danny had a plan. He did. He wanted to shut this down.

But as he watched Jason describe the crooks he took down and the people he’s helped, all he could see was Jazz, passionately advocating for improvements in mental health and how much she could help people. He saw the spark in Jason’s eyes, and could only think of Jazz’s heart and how Jason had inherited it and made it his own.

And, what hurts above all, is that Danny saw himself, before everything was ripped from him. Danny saw the hope that Jason carried, the care he had for others and it made him want to cry. Is this why Jazz hadn’t tried to stop him, all those years ago?

Was his choice to become Phantom not a choice that brought her despair but rather something that inspired his older sister?

“I ain’t the first Robin- but- I’m helping.” Jason said, desperate for Danny to understand. “I’m good at it.”

And he does- he does, but.

“You’re better than the first Robin,” Danny said, clearly without bias. Really, he was being fair about it. “You’re already my hero.”

And he was. Even from the moment they met, Jason’s small form, determined despite the fear, had inspired Danny to be better. To be what Phantom used to be.

“Y’re just sayin’ that.” Jason mumbled. “So… does this mean you’re gonna lemme be Robin?”

Danny hesitated. “The reason that I’m against it isn’t because I think you’re incapable.”

Then Danny told his little brother everything. Almost.

“I used to be a vigilante, a long time ago,” he began. Danny wove a tapestry of stories. He spoke of the scars he’d gotten, the things he’d seen and done to help, and more importantly, of the people he’s loved and lost.

“You remind me of my sister, Jay.”

“‘Cause I got red hair?” Jason asked quietly.

“Yes and more. You’re so brave, and your heart is so big. You want to help people at the roots. You care so much and you’re both incredibly intelligent.” Danny closed his eyes. “Losing her broke me. I’m not against you becoming a vigilante, Jay. I’m just scared about losing you and being a vigilante increases those chances.”

“I won’t die.” Jason promised.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Jay.” Danny leaned over and ruffled Jason’s hair. “But I know that you’re eventually going to go back to vigilantism eventually. That’s… that’s just kind of how it is.”

Danny hated it but he knew that he wouldn’t have listened at Jason’s age.

“But you haven’t.” Jason gripped his wrist. “Y’ain’t right?”

“What did you think happened to Charlie?”

Jason blinked. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.” Danny smiled, tired and sad but buoyant. He’ll be there for Jason like Jazz was for him. “I guess there’s only one choice left.”

“What’s that?”

Danny smiled mischievously. “I just gotta be a vigilante again. But don’t tell Batman. That asshole’s gotta suffer a bit.”

Jason giggled and Ancients, Danny could hear Jazz’s little snort in there. “Really?!”

“Yes. I’ll train you if you want. I gotta be out there to make sure you don’t die on me.”

“I won’t.”

This time, Danny actually believed it. Mostly because whoever tried to cross his little brother was about to find out why even the Ancients bowed when he got angry.

——

Jason: *is cute and happy Robin*

Criminals: *fear*

Jason: see that, Danny? They were so afraid of me! I’m super intimidating

Danny, who had been standing behind Jason and making silent threats at them like a demon from Constantine’s hell: yeah, baby brother you’re the scariest, I’m so proud of you

Me, trying to write Danny and Bruce getting along: *challenge failed*

Listen, Danny has too much fight me you rich weirdo vibes

#dcxdp #alley drunk! danny au #dpxdc #danny phantom #jason todd #batman #sorry I wanted to make it longer and have danny be against it #but unfortunately sad Danny is weak to puppy dog eyes and sad Jason #dp x dc crossover #seriously it was supposed to be angstier #like Jason dies and Danny buries him screaming over his grave #and he slips back to alcoholism but then realizes that Jason would have wanted that #and then one day he figures out that Jason isn’t in his grave #and goes hunting for him #they keep missing each other and when they meet #it’s red hood and severely depressed Danny #Danny would have been like I’m so glad you’re back #and Jason would have been like wtf how did you get worse #and Danny would hit him with the Jason you’re my little brother and I love you and losing you broke me all over again

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magicalqueennightmare · 4 months ago

Text

Always Us

(Always having to use a Takeshi gif cause they're ain't enough Rick ones)

Rick Flag X Reader

You and Rick have been best friends through so much but will an undercover mission change everything?

Warnings: normal suicide squad level of violence, cursing, NSFW happenings

It was a rare occasion that the suicide squad was called in to answer to anyone other than Waller on a mission. She was a greedy bitch and hated sharing her toys and loved everyone knowing that the squad was her attack dogs and hers only. The only exception was when she wanted to look good, make bigger connections so here you and Rick stood in a room filled with FBI agents, DEA agents and numerous other agencies from other countries and every single one of them had their eyes on the two of you.

There was a big time smuggler by the name of Ezekiel Morrison. Drugs, people...didn't matter. He was in the business for them. No one had managed to get close enough so far. Everyone who'd gotten close had ended up dead. That was where the idea to use the squad had come into the play, have a task that seems like a suicide mission? Who better to use? Besides the moment they mentioned that the last "shipment" of his that had been intercepted had been teenaged girls you and Rick hadn't hesitated to say you were in.

You listened as the agent in charge went over the floor plan for Morrison's club where the meet would go down. The working plan was Rick would go in as a buyer and Floyd as his business partner, you and Harley unfortunately had to play arm candy. All you had to really do was get close enough to the asshole long enough that the handy little device laying in the center of the table could clone his phone.

That would give you access to every account, password, location of his warehouses and holding units. "Lucky for us, he has a type" Waller spoke from her spot to your right and you raised an eyebrow "Underaged girls?" she shook her head "He sells them but doesn't touch that product. No he has a particular taste" the way her eyes were trailing over you made a pit form in the base of your stomach. She'd looked at Rick and June the same way when she'd figured out that the two of them had developed feelings for each other. You'd wanted to kill her for the pain that had caused Rick when he and June split even if that was years ago now.

"Let me guess..my hair color, body type and build?" she smiled brightly which was beyond creepy considering "and smart to boot, look at that" She opened a folder and laid out a stack of photos on the table. Every woman could've been your sister or at the very least a cousin given the similarities in looks. You felt a shiver run down your spine when you realized there were three photos of each woman. One was a driver's license or I.D. of some sort, one was a photo of them with Morrison and the last was a crime scene photo of their deaths.

"Rick is the lead agent on this but you're running point on getting his phone cloned. The device will be planted on you. It's up to you to get it done" you could feel so many eyes in the room on you and became acutely aware of how few women were in the room. You couldn't back down for a magnitude of reasons. One set of eyes in particular drew your gaze to them, the hazel hue of your best friend from where he stood with his arms crossed, listening to Waller and from the way the crease between his eyebrows was deepening, not liking a single word she was saying.

He started to open his mouth, no doubt to protest but you gave a subtle shake of your head. If he said something..Waller wouldn't let it go unpunished, not to mention there was no other agent here that matched the description of his type and you hated the idea of some rookie getting plucked to get sent into the lion's den and this benefited Floyd, Harley and the usual suspects of the squad along with you and Rick if it went well not to mention the potential victims you were saving.

You knew with Rick, Harley and Floyd at your back you'd be safe enough. "Then let's get on with it ma'am" You spoke, meeting her eyes with a smile that was nowhere near friendly. She nodded then turned to face the room "Colonel Flag and his second in command will get this done. They're the best there is" you cut your eyes at Rick and knew he was thinking the same thing you were just from the look you shared. Normally she talked about the two of you like you were well trained junkyard dogs at best. He tilted his head with the barest hint of a smile before turning his attention back to the room.

The plan would be set for when and where along with personas for everyone being laid in place then all that would be left would be to play the part and rip the asshole to shreds. You knew Harley would enjoy the undercover part, Floyd was a smooth talker and Rick was trained for this shit. You could handle your part. The facts at hand left you no choice but to handle it.

"Are you sure you're up to this?" Rick asked as he sat down next to you where you were currently curled up on his couch going over the files on Morrison again. The two of you along with Harley and Floyd would be flying out bright and early to meet up with the other agents working this joint op. That meant you'd spent the better part of the day with Harley and Floyd going over their personas. You cut your eyes up at him and you knew from the way his smile dropped you'd unintentionally glared at him "I'm not doubting your abilities sweetheart. I know you can handle this but Waller is waving you around like bait on a fucking hook. I goddamn hate it, I hated this guy before seeing those photos. After that? It's gonna take a lot for me to be civil"

You grabbed over your heart playfully "Oh Rick I didn't know you cared!" and fell over against his shoulder with a laugh. He shook his head and wrapped an arm around your shoulders "Bullshit on you not knowing I cared. You're my best friend, have been since before any of this shit ever fell into our laps" you laughed again "But damn isn't life so much more interesting than when you were just a grunt and me training to be a medic?"

He shook his head and reached for the file still in your hand before tossing it onto his coffee table "Enough of this asshole. Let's finish this movie we've been watching for the last two weeks so we can get some sleep" You had a habit of staying at each other's place the night before missions, especially ones like this. That was why Rick had picked out your couch and you his. Had to make sure your beds were comfortable.You turned to lean into the pile of pillows you had on the arm rest of the couch and Rick watched you with a raised eyebrow "What are you doing you fuckin gremlin?"

You shrugged "Getting comfortable. I always fall asleep before you and end up getting tossed around like a sack of potatoes so you can go to bed but.." you put your feet in his lap and tossed a blanket over your legs and his lap before continuing "this way maybe I don't end up feeling like a ragdoll when you want to go to bed you fuckin giant" he shrugged "Ain't my fault you're short. You never let that stop you on a mission. Hell you and Harley get twice the kill count of most of the guys" you winked at him "Never underestimate feminine rage"

This was the definition of your relationship with Rick. The two of you had met way back when and had hit it off, he needed chaos and you needed grounding and that's what you bought to each other. You met in the middle most days and when you did argue it normally never lasted long because you needed each other too much to stay mad. He was the one person you always counted on to be in your corner. You trusted him with your life and he trusted you with his.

---------------

When you'd started seeing GQ it had been a little bit of a blow up. Something along the lines of "You can't seriously date one of my men!" but when Waller had launched the idea of the squad and drew your card for their combat medic he couldn't say too much considering you were both then "his men" he'd just given his blessing when he met June. The speed at which he'd fallen for her had made your head spin but if that was what made him happy you'd been happy for him but Midway city had blown a hole in your life in more than one way.

After losing GQ and the squad becoming a concrete thing you threw yourself into work while Rick threw himself into the relationship with June. There was one thing while you were with GQ you'd never done and that was ignore Rick. Hell you'd had more than one relationship implode due to the six foot two man sitting next to you, because you refused to lose him. He'd been there for you during some of the worst years of your life. Unfortunately it had seemed he hadn't felt the same.

For weeks the only time you'd seen or spoke to Rick was over briefings. You hadn't pushed. He'd said he loved June. You'd seen it in how hard he fought for her so you concentrated on training the squad, on training yourself more,traveled with Katana a while, even going back and forth between D.C. and Louisiana on errands for Waller. Anything to not sit still.

The startling realization that your feelings had somehow sank so much deeper than you'd ever intended snuck up on you. You'd been in D.C. when he texted you asking where you were. A part of you wanted to ignore it but it was Rick. Your heart could only take so much distance from him. Waller was making you want to smash your head against a wall, Katana was depressing at best most times and the squad...well Croc was the best behaved currently. When you'd told him you were in D.C. He'd asked when you'd be back in Louisiana so you'd told him and he asked if the two of you could have a movie night "like old times"

You hadn't meant to be snarky but before you thought about it you'd typed out "Are you sure June would be cool with you coming to my place?" "No but we're not together anymore" your heart broke for him in that moment. No matter how you'd felt about June or the entire situation you hated knowing Rick was hurting. You texted back to tell him you'd see him when you got home.

That night when he'd come over it was like any other night in a lot of ways but he'd been quiet until you pushed. "Rick, not that I'm not happy to see you outside of Belle Reeve or D.C. but you haven't said anything outside of hey and asking how I've been. Are you ok?" you'd turned on your couch to face him, drawing a leg up underneath you. He stared down at his hands as he spoke "I've been a really shitty best friend to you. I don't think you loved G not yet anyways but I know you cared about him and goddamn deadshot comforted you more than I did. Midway City was hard as hell and I left you high and fuckin dry after it. You've been running errands for Waller, been traveling with Katana and training the squad" "So just a recap of the last few months?" you teased before he raised his eyes and you saw the actual pain there "Oh Rick, I'm kidding"

You moved to pull him into a hug and he wrapped his larger frame around you, burying his face in your shoulder. "I know June isn't used to any of the crazy shit we are. She was possessed by an ancient meta.Thats huge and hard as hell! I was just trying to help so you had more time to help her adjust" "I fuckin left you" it was muffled but you caught his words. You had to put most of your strength into it to push him back to look him in the face as you said "I'm a big girl Rick. I can handle a few weeks. You don't have to put your life on hold to still be my best friend"

You couldn't stand seeing him in any pain, especially mental. You couldn't even attempt to fix that. He raised a hand and brushed your hair back "It's always been us" you felt your heart flip at his words but knew he meant it platonically which was fine, you loved Rick in every way there was to love a man. The recent distance from him had forced you to realize that. You covered his hand with yours "Nothing will change that Rick. You loved June. It's normal to bury yourself in a new relationship, especially when your girl has trauma like she did. Now what happened"

He ducked his eyes before laughing lightly "She wanted me to quit the army, get a job in North Carolina where she's from" your heart crumbled at the idea of losing him but if that's what made him happy "Do you love the army or her more?" he shrugged "Doesn't matter because she also told me I had to cut ties with you. That was the deal breaker. You're my best friend. I'm not losing you"

-------------------

You were drawn back to the present by Rick's hand squeezing your ankle lightly. When you flicked your eyes to him he smirked "Dozing off on me already?" you grinned "Maybe? Tomorrow is a whole new type of fucked up, even for us" he nodded then lifted your legs long enough to stand up before gently placing them back on the couch "Get some sleep. I'll wake you up when my alarm goes off then we'll head to meet transport"

You watched him walk across the floor to his bedroom, he was wearing a pair of grey sweatpants and nothing else but you couldn't exactly say anything considering you were wearing one of his old shirts and a pair of his boxers because you'd forgotten to pack something to sleep in from your apartment. The ink on his biceps drew your eyes when he turned to look back at you and grinned when he saw you were already looking at him "We'll get it done like we always do. Those photos just threw me off a little" you laughed lightly "They didn't look like you" he nodded "True. Goodnight Y/N" "Night Rick"

The bedroom door closed so you rolled over to face the back of the couch and hoped sleep would come soon.

You were glad you never got roped into undercover work,wrangling a team of maniacs from Belle Reeve was easy compared to this. Wardrobe had been insane to say the least. The guys had the easy part, nice tailored suits and a shave for Floyd and they were good to go. You and Harley on the other hand, the two of you had to go through literal hair and makeup. After that you'd tried on several different outfits, damn near growling at a few of the choices because the vest you normally wore on missions would've covered more. You'd even been forced to wear a different style of bra and panties than you'd packed.

Eventually the choice was made with Harley deciding on a spaghetti strap dress that was gold with a plunging neckline and heels that hurt your feet just from looking at them. Your dress for the evening was black with sleeves that skimmed your arms, hiding the scar on your shoulder from a bullet a few years back. Where the sleeves should've cut down on the sexy factor the neckline made up for it considering it dipped down to mid sternum and hugged your body in all the right places. Harley, bless her for feeding into your comfort zone as much as possible, found a pair of knee high, heeled boots that went along with the dress beautifully.

You did a little spin for her and the two agents that had been helping the two of you get prepared. "Ya look delicious babe. No way is he not taking the bait" Agent O'Rourke who was probably a year or two older than you gave you a smile before leaning down to your left boot. You were about to question what she was doing until you felt a sheath slip into your boot and hook into the side of it. When she straightened up she winked at you before saying "It's a ceramic blade, even if they wand you it won't go off" An understanding look passed between the two of you before you nodded slowly "Thank you"

She tapped the com in her ear, listening to one of the other agents before looking back to you and Harley "Let's get you two mic'd up then we'll go meet the men of your team. A driver will take you to Morrison's club for the meet"

--------------

You followed Harley and Agent O'Rourke out into the hall. Rick and Floyd were just waiting for the two of you. Your nerves were through the roof but that was normal for a mission, right? Besides, you'd feel better once Rick was at your side. You always did.

You were trying to not pick at your outfit, you stopped short when you heard the unmistakable sound of Floyd whistle. You cut your eyes up to see him and Rick standing with a few agents. He gave you and Harley both an appreciative once over before raising an eyebrow "You two out here looking like full course meals and I don't get a single damn taste...really gonna do me like that?"

You laughed, feeling the nerves fade a bit. Leave it up to your squad to cut jokes before undertaking something like this. "Easy deadshot, Harley is your girl for the night" Rick warned and for just a second you could've sworn he sounded jealous but he was probably just feeding into the personas set out. You turned your eyes towards him, trying and failing to not let your eyes linger on just how perfectly that suit hugged his shoulders. You felt a blush warm your face when he gave you a once over, his eyes following the neckline of your dress before he swallowed thickly and muttered "I fuckin hate Waller" you couldn't help the small laugh that escaped you.

He held a hand out so you took it and he pulled you into his side "Ready to do this Allison?" That was the name of your persona, the long term girlfriend to Rick's persona Jonathan Kenzie. When Waller had told you that you wouldn't just be playing arm candy but someone Rick's persona was actually supposed to be committed to you'd nearly flipped the damn table on her but it was too late to back out. "Ready as ever Jon" You replied, brushing a stray piece of hair back from his forehead.

Floyd's persona was Anthony Colton, Jon's business partner. Harley was Alexia Long, Anthony's most recent fling. You turned your attention from Rick to Harley and held your hand out "C'mon Alexia" She smiled and grabbed your hand. Rick held your gaze as he addressed the room "We get in, we get what we need then we get the hell out. Everyone goes home in one piece after we tear this mother fucker's entire enterprise down around him" Floyd slapped Rick on the shoulder and laughed "I'll be damned! You finally learned how to give a fuckin pep talk"

The heat from the club hit you the moment you stepped inside, whether it was from the heat of the lights or the amount of bodies shoved into the small space you weren't sure. You swallowed hard, without thinking your hand shot out for Rick's. He laced his fingers into yours and gently rubbed his thumb across the back of your hand. You felt the tension in your shoulders loosen at the touch. You could handle this. You'd handled a lot worse than one psycho.

Rick led your small group through the club, avoiding the overcrowded dance floor and heading for the V.I.P. section where a booth was reserved. Morrison had told "Jon" he wanted to meet in public to get a feel for each other before moving the meeting to his office. You knew the play was probably to get surveillance photos of all of you and run them to ensure you were who you said you were but considering the agencies behind you on this you were confident on that end.

---------------------

Rick's hand never left yours, even as he took a seat at the booth before pulling you down into his lap. Floyd sat across from Rick, pulling Harley down into his lap as well. The four of you were supposed to look like couples so you had to play the part because you knew from the moment you stepped into the club Morrison already had eyes on you. Harley and Floyd had no issue with falling right into flirting and even suggestively touching each other. To anyone else it looked like they were completely oblivious but you knew if you asked, Floyd could tell you what color the third person to the right of the Dj booth's shirt was and Harley could probably psychoanalyze someone from their body language where she sat with her face in the bend of Floyd's neck whispering something to him.

Rick's hand slid up into the hair at the base of your neck,nails lightly scraping your scalp and it took every ounce of self control you had to not let a soft moan escape you at the feelings that small touch evoked.He pulled you back against his chest, careful of how short your dress was before pressing his mouth to the shell of your ear and speaking barely above a whisper so the coms wouldn't pick it up "Sweetheart you've got to loosen up and act like you want me. We're supposed to have been together for eight years" You couldn't even attempt to hide the shiver that ran down your spine and he chuckled lightly. Nothing on earth would have prepared you though for Rick to gently graze his teeth across your neck right over the pulse point. "Oh fuck" you gasped, feeling heat roll through you as he shifted under you "Atta girl"

What the fuck was he doing? More importantly how the fuck was he making you fall apart with so little actions? Damn you were in the middle of a mission and those nerves you were feeling just moments before were long forgotten, replaced by the feeling of Rick's lips on your skin as he kissed the spot right behind your ear that made your legs tremble. You felt your body react to his touch even more and had to bite down on the inside of your cheek to keep from leaning into him even further.

You turned to look over your shoulder at him and he gave you the slightest of smiles before mouthing the word "Relax" about the time the feeling of eyes on you grew stronger and you had to fight the urge to not clock the bodyguard standing about four feet from where all of you sat. There were a few more posted around the club and if you were right from their formation it meant Morrison's office was behind the stage, near the very back of the building but at least it was on the base floor. You didn't feel like going out of a window wearing those boots.

You sucked in a breath of air, smoke and an abundance of different colognes and perfumes assaulted your senses but it still managed to ground you. Rick was playing a part. He was a trained soldier. This was nothing more than another mission, a different type of firefight.

---------------------

You cut your eyes over at Harley and Floyd as Floyd struck up a conversation with Rick about their "Most recent trades" Harley was comfortably wrapped around Floyd, her eyes lazily flickering around the club. When her gaze met yours they shifted to Rick then back to you before she raised an eyebrow and grinned.

"How long is the damn background on us gonna take?" You spoke low enough only they could hear you and O'Rourke's voice in your ear nearly made you jump off Rick's lap when she responded "Few more minutes. He's gone through Floyd and Harley. He's currently working on you and Rick"

A bodyguard near the stage looked toward your group so Rick slipped an arm around your waist, effectively locking you in place against him as his fingers trailed down your side "Always so damn impatient Allie. Enjoy a night out" Floyd waved a waitress down and ordered drinks when Rick gave him a nod.

"That one has always been a live wire Jon" Floyd spoke with a look towards Rick that felt a lot more loaded than it should've been. You shook your head and let a laugh fall from your lips "Easy Anthony. I've known you for how long now? I could tell Alexia some stories"

Harley perked up at the chance to play her part and honest to God giggled "Oh please do!" She looked past you to Rick "If I can manage to get you out of Jon's grasp I may have to drag you onto the dance floor with me so we get a little one on one time"

Rick looked up at you from where he was propped back against the seat with an arm up like he owned the entire place "Allie, you wanna go dance baby?" You looked towards Harley then pulled your bottom lip between your teeth for a second before nodding "Yeah" he smiled and leaned up to place a kiss on your neck, right along your jawline before saying "Go have fun baby. Just stay where I can see if any asshole tries to put his hands on you is all I ask"

That was Rick reminding you and Harley to stay where him and Floyd could back you up if need be. You nodded and placed a kiss on his neck, feeling his pulse under your lips and felt a little thrill at how much faster it was than normal "I promise love"

---------------------

Rick and Floyd watched you and Harley head to the dance floor. Rick's eyes never leave you even as the music started and Harley eased you into dancing, a broad grin on her face.

"She has you wrapped around her little finger doesn't she?" Floyd asked him and Rick was thrown off for a second because he wasn't sure if it was Floyd asking him or Anthony asking Jon or Floyd using the excuse of Anthony to be nosy and not get his head knocked off.

Rick turned his eyes back to you and couldn't stop the smile that spread across his face when you winked at him. That reaction was all Rick, no Jon required. "More than she knows" he answered without thinking and Floyd chuckled lightly.

---------------------

You were enjoying yourself actually. Harley was her usual wildness but you were used to it and her mood helped yours. The two of you had probably danced for two songs when you felt someone touch your back.

You knew Rick's touch well enough to know it wasn't him. You turned around to be face to face with Ezekiel Morrison. "Showtime" O'Rourke spoke over the coms and you could feel Rick's gaze even before you cut your eyes over at him and Floyd.

You'd seen Rick ecstatic, horrified, downright depressed and if someone had asked you before that moment you would've said you'd seen him angry but the look in his eyes made a shiver run down your spine of an entirely different kind and you knew for a fact he'd never hurt you. He looked enraged at the fact that Morrison had touched you even if that was the plan. You gave him a small smile, hoping that would calm him before turning your attention to the man in front of you.

"Excuse me?" You asked, making your voice sound as innocent as possible. Ezekiel would've been a decent looking man had you not known what he'd done. He was about an inch or two shorter than Rick, nice build and light brown hair with straight, extremely white teeth. "I'm sorry to interrupt you and your friend but I couldn't forgive myself if I didn't ask for a dance"

You forced a bashful laugh "Oh my. Well um I'm here with my boyfriend" you pointed towards Rick who had to school his features when Morrison smiled even broader "You're Mr Kenzie's significant other? My my he does have fine taste indeed. I'm sure he wouldn't mind one dance"

Yeah, you'd need four showers after this. You looked from him over to Rick, making sure to pull the whole doe eye act before nodding "You're right. One dance won't hurt"

Harley smiled "I'm gonna head over to Anthony" Morrison didn't take his eyes off you to acknowledge her. Yeah he was basically a serial killer on top of everything else and Waller had laid you on a silver platter.

You took Morrison's hand and allowed him to pull you back out onto the dance floor, focusing your mind on how Rick's touch had felt, on the teenaged girls this mother fucker trafficked, on anything but how oily his hand felt and how his eyes were glued to the flesh your dress showed "So miss..." "Allison..Allison Gore" he nodded "Allison. How did you meet Jon?"

You fed him the backstory that had been laid into place, all the while listening to O'Rourke's voice encouraging you to keep him talking. He nodded as if he was enthralled but you knew he hadn't heard a single word you said.

You felt his hand that had been on your lower back begin to slip lower as the two of you danced. You knew this was a possibility and could handle it gracefully or would've had you not heard "Goddammit Flag" over the coms right before you felt that familiar touch pulling you back against that toned chest you'd know anywhere "Mr Morrison! I see you've met my Allie"

Ezekiel winked at you "I did indeed. She's extraordinary" "stay within two feet of him Y/N. We just need three more minutes" you leaned up from Rick's embrace to lay a hand on Morrison's arm "This club is wonderful but I understand Jon and Anthony as here on business. Let's move this somewhere more private"

Morrison nodded "Mr Kenzie do you want to grab your partner and his girl. I'll gladly escort Ms Gore" you looked up into Rick's eyes and the look made your heart flip. "Jon, go get Tony and Alexia" he nodded stiffly then leaned down close to you. To anyone else, including Morrison it would look like he was kissing your neck but he whispered into your ear "If you say stop. This shit stops. Nothing matters more than you"

When he pulled back you knew your eyes were wide but you recovered fast enough "Love you too babe" then turned to Morrison and took his offered arm "Lead the way"

You swallowed hard and heard O'Rourke's voice "Two more minutes" as Morrion led you towards a darkened hallway at the far back of the club. You shifted your foot to feel the sheath in it as a comfort as you heard Rick growl across the com "Hurry the fuck up"

--------------------

Ezekiel was purposely invading your space, leaning in too close. You could smell his God awful cologne and the cigars he smoked. Rick, Floyd and Harley had yet to make it to the office but you imagined that was on purpose.

"Tell me miss Gore, are you happy with Mr Kenzie?" You nodded "Very. Jon's a good man to me" the bastard shrugged "Does he treat you like a queen? Because I could give you an empire" he put one hand on your hip and was leaning closer when you finally heard O'Rourke say "It's cloned. Teams are moving into position. When they hit the warehouses and holding units we have the all clear to take down Morrison and any guards. Hold positions. Ten minutes tops"

Where was Rick? You stepped back from Morrison "Where is Jon and Anthony?" You asked and he smirked "I wanted some alone time, ya know. Get to know each other better. They'll be here soon" "Find her now or I'll blow this whole damn op sideways" Rick's voice across the coms hit you square in the chest. He was pissed, worry evident in his tone laced with an underlying fear you'd seen in his eyes when he'd looked too close at those photos. You just hoped O'Rourke knew he meant every damn word.

"Where are they?" You asked and he smiled "Don't worry. I want their business. I'll be gentle" he brushed your hair back and spoke close enough to your neck you could feel his breath "Unless you want me to be rough"

O'Rourke and Rick's voices both drifted into your ear "Nine" "WHERE THE FUCK IS SHE?"

Adrenaline flooded your system mixed with a little bit of relief. He hadn't figured out they were undercover, he still thought this was just a buyer who happened to have a girl who matched his fetish. That, you could handle"Yeah, No"

---------------------

You made a move to go around him and he tried to grab for you so you side stepped and slammed your knee into his crotch "No means no" "Fuckin bitch" he growled, hitting the floor. You stood over him and repeated yourself "Now do you want to act like a gentleman or continue to act like a neanderthal?"

He cupped his balls as he glared at you "I'll fucking kill you" "Wrong answer" you smiled, drawing back your foot and kicking him where you'd previously caught him with your knee. Harley's voice finally graced your ear "North end of the club Flag. I'll get the guards' attention. You go get our girl"

O'Rourke's voice followed "Colonel Flag, Harley we just need five minutes" "Better be a fast five minutes" Floyd's voice was clipped, he was pissed.

Morrison was beginning to recover so you backed up, crouching to slip the knife out of your boot because you had no idea what he was doing "You either give me what I want or I'll kill your man, his friend and your little whore friend while you watch"

"Those three can handle themselves," you replied with a shrug. "Three" O'Rourke's voice rang through your ears as Morrion moved to grab you again. You flipped the knife up and drove it into his left arm. You weren't trying to kill him. Not yet anyways.

He roared in pain and called you a few choice words before the door slammed open, barely hanging onto the hinges from the force and there stood Rick, anger rolling off him in waves. Morrison fell back from you "Your whore attacked me Kenzie"

Rick strode into the office and didn't say a word as he closed the space between himself and Morrison with few steps. He wrapped a hand around the other man's throat before looking over at you. You saw a few marks gracing his face that was evidence of a fight of some sort but he didn't look too injured.

Rick looked back at Morrison before snatching your blade free of his arm and putting it at his throat, the tip of the blade digging in enough you saw blood begin to trickle down Morrison's neck. "No, you're just a sorry excuse for a man that likes to put his hands places they don't belong"

The blade drove in further and you heard O'Rourke's voice "We're coming in. I repeat we're coming in. Start taking down who you can" "Rick!" You grabbed his arm and when he looked down at you his eyes trailed over your face "Did he touch you?" You shook your head "No. He tried but no"

He nodded slowly before smashing Morrison's head roughly into the wall. You watched the slimy mother fucker crumple before you heard gunfire break out and you both looked at each other "Got me a gun?" you asked with a hopeful grin.

He lifted the back of his jacket and you smiled when you realized he'd placed one where he'd have no chance of drawing it but it was the perfect position for you. "I knew you loved me" "More than you know" he muttered so low you barely heard him before pulling his own gun. You didn't have time to ask what he meant, the two of you taking one final look at each other before joining the mayhem in the remainder of the club.

Both yours and Harley's dresses had somehow gotten ripped in the fighting. The material wasn't exactly made to hold up to the two of you so the plane ride home consisted of the two of you wearing FBI sweatpants and the guys' suit jackets. You laughed from where you sat across from Floyd and he raised an eyebrow at you "Y/N? You finally flip your shit? I knew hanging out with Flag was gonna get to you"

You looked towards the front of the plane where Rick had been on the line with Waller since all of you had stepped on board "Naw, he's not that bad once you get past that wall he puts up" Floyd shook his head "You two and your puppy eyes are kinda sickening" Harley slapped his shoulder "Shut up! I think it's cute"

You looked from one to the other "What?" They exchanged a glance before Floyd said "Dollface, you nearly melted into a puddle in that man's lap from him doing very little" "Plus he looks at you like you hung the fuckin moon" Harley added. Floyd nodded then shrugged "Not to mention the entire reason they sent everyone in early is because he told em that was their only option if they wanted Morrison alive"

You looked back towards Rick, he had his back turned to you. You could tell from the set of his shoulders he was arguing with Waller. He glanced over his shoulder after a second as if he could feel your gaze and when he did his entire body seemed to relax when he looked at you. You smiled at him and he smiled in return before turning back to whatever Waller was saying "See?" Harley and Floyd spoke in unison.

You shook your head "Get some sleep. You two earned your walking papers with this one, I hope this is the last mission I work with either of you" they both grinned at you "You'll miss us" Floyd teased so you nodded "Yeah but I'll be glad to see you go home to your little girl" then looked at Harley "and you better stay out of trouble" She winked at you "I'll try"

You followed Rick out of Belle Reeve into the parking lot where both your car and his pickup were parked. He'd been silent the ride back and during the group debrief besides when asked a direct question but then Waller had asked to speak to him alone. You'd gone to the warden's office to finish up Harley and Floyd's paperwork while you waited on him. You'd changed into one of his extra shirts he kept in his office so it was a bit more comfortable than the suit jacket considering you were still wearing the boots. Hell you were considering seeing if Rick had any extra shoes stored anywhere even if they'd be too big.

He stopped when you got to your car and dug his truck keys out of his pocket before looking at you "Um..can I come over?" "Movie night?" you asked and he started to nod then stopped "No, not movie night. I want to talk to you but not here when I know every damn thing is gonna run back to that bitch" your eyes widened at his words but you nodded nonetheless "Ok"

--------------------------

You stepped out of the shower and heard your front door open. It had to be Rick because outside of him only your brother had a key and he was currently states away. You'd ended up pulling one of his old shirts he'd left at your place out to sleep in and considering how long it was on you, nothing else but panties. He'd seen you in less when you'd been hurt.

You walked out of your bedroom into the living room and he was sitting on the couch with his head back and looked half asleep, from the looks of it he'd showered at his place when he'd grabbed his forgotten overnight bag. He was now wearing black sweatpants and a white t-shirt, his shoes were by the front door where he'd kicked them off time he walked in. You smiled when you realized he had locked all three locks behind himself. "Well that was insane" you spoke and his head shot up at your voice, a lazy smile slipping onto his face "Yeah, thats a word for it"

He patted the cushion next to him "C'mere" any time he was tired his accent slipped out so much thicker. You loved it. You walked over and sat down next to him, curling your feet underneath you so you could lean your head over on his shoulder "How pissed was Waller?" he shrugged "You and the team are in the clear. I think a part of her enjoys being right about having something to hold over my head" He slipped his arm around your shoulders as he spoke, head dipping down so he could place a kiss on top of your head "What does she have?" you asked, praying you were right but refusing to say it outloud.

He laughed lightly "You're gonna make me throw every damn card I got on the table, ain't ya?" You leaned up off his shoulder so you could look into his eyes "Yeah. I want to know what's going on in that head of yours. You know it's always been us and always will be but I need to know just what you mean" he leaned forward until his forehead was touching yours and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath before saying "She knows I'm in love with my best friend and that I have been for a very long time" you gently cupped his jaw and waited until he slowly opened his eyes. He looked so damn uncertain. Where was that man that had you falling apart in Morrison's club just hours before? Was it that much easier when it was under the facade of a mission?

"Please say something," he nearly begged. you let your hand caress down his jaw, trying to collect your nerve before finally leaning in to let your lips connect to his. The kiss was gentle, hell chaste even but it lit a fire in you as you pulled back to look at him. a smile slipped onto his face "Please do that again" a laugh fell from you "Rick Flag, you had me squirming in the middle of a club! I think you're more than capable of taking control of a situation" "Do you want this? Want me?" he asked, reaching for your hand and placing it over his heart where you could feel it thundering even through his shirt. You rolled the soft material through your fingertips before nodding "For a very long time"

"C'mere" he repeated, pulling you across the couch. You gladly let him pick you up and put you in his lap, slipping your legs down on either side of his hips to be effectively straddling him "First time you've not complained about me picking you up" You shrugged "I like how big you are when I'm the one getting to take advantage of it" he smirked at your words "Darlin, I just ask two things of you" he dipped his head down to let his teeth tease across your pulse like he'd done earlier and you tried to muffle the moan that it caused by biting your lip but he moved one hand up, cupping the side of your head and using his thumb to gently coax your lip out from between your teeth "Tell me if you don't like something and don't try to be quiet baby. Please let me have every little sound I can pull from you because I'm gonna do everything I can to make sure you forget any man that was in your bed before me"

You nodded, unable to form words at the moment but he shook his head "Use your words sweetheart" "I will Rick, please just fuckin touch me" he raised an eyebrow and looked down to where his hands were touching your hips "I am touching you baby" "Rick!" you pratically whined and was rewarded with the rumble of his laughter when you tugged at his shirt. "Ok ok" he teased before pulling his shirt off and tossing it next to him on the couch "That what you wanted?" he asked and you answered him by letting your hands and lips trace the familiar scars that decorated his chest, the muscles shifting under your touch as little groans escaped him.

When your lips moved from his chest up to his neck his head fell back against the couch "Damn sweetheart that feels good" you moved across his neck, kissing and biting the smooth skin there. His hips jutted up against yours when you hit a certain spot and you gasped feeling how hard he was, fuck you'd always figured Rick was well endowed. Boxers and sweatpants didn't hide much but feeling it rubbing against your core with only thin layers of material separating it was an entirely different feeling.

Your lips found that spot again, rolling your hips against his as you sucked a dark mark over it. His grip on your hips tightened as he swore under his breath "That's it darlin. Mark me. Let everyone know I'm yours" you whimpered into his skin at his words. He slipped a hand between your body and you broke away from his skin to gasp when his fingers made the first swipe across your clothed center, the material not offering much of a barrier given that they were soaked.

"Fuck, you're soaking wet honey..that for me?" he teased, pushing your panties to the side and allowing one thick finger to tease past your folds before finally pushing it inside of you, grunting when he felt how your pussy squeezed just one of his fingers "Oh sweetheart" he curled his finger up, finding that spot inside of you that had you gripping his shoulders. "It's ok, I got ya" he kissed the side of your head as he added a second finger. "Fuck..Rick" he used his thumb to work your clit as his lips found your neck attacking the spots that had you shaking in his touch as he worked you towards an orgasm.

You felt that pressure building a half second before that wave crashed over you "Oh god" you moaned, burying your face in his neck as he used his fingers to work you through the orgasm. When your walls stopped tremoring around his fingers, he slowly pulled them out of you. When you lifted your head he winked at you before sucking his fingers into his mouth, humming in contentment at your taste "I need more than a tease of a taste" he spoke before moving you off his lap to lay you back across the couch.His hands went to the shirt you wore, eyes flickering to yours "Can I take this off?" you nodded then remembered he wanted more "Please"

He grinned, slipping the shirt off of you then tossed it "Fuck, look at you" he started at your panty line and left a trail of open mouthed kisses up your body until he got to your breasts. He rolled one nipple into his mouth and your back arched up when he let his teeth just barely graze the sensitive bud. "Fuck, just like that..feels so good" you praised and felt him grin against your flesh.

He moved to the other side giving it the same attention before moving up to catch your lips in a wet kiss that had you both gasping for air when you pulled away. "So damn gorgeous" he praised before moving back down your body leaving wet kisses everywhere he could reach. When he got to the top of your panties he looked up to meet your eyes, the request silent. "Please" you whispered and god the look he gave you in that moment damn near made you come undone "I fucking love you"

He slipped your panties down off your legs and tossed them before tapping your hips "Spread your legs for me beautiful. Let me love ya" you did as he asked and felt the first tentative flick of his tongue which had your eyes rolling back in your head. Your fingers buried themselves in his hair as he dove in like a starved man offered a four course meal. Your hips rocked against his face as he worked you closer and closer to that edge and when he slipped two fingers in to tease at that spot deep inside of you while barely letting his teeth graze against your clit your back arched off the couch and you came with a scream of his name on your lips.

Once you weakly pushed at his head from being oversensitive he started to kiss his way up your body, marking every inch of skin he could with his mouth along the way. When he got to your mouth he pulled you into a passionate kiss, rolling his tongue against yours, allowing you to taste yourself on him. Your hands were locked around his neck, holding him to you "Rick, I want to return the favor, I want to do so much but right now I need you inside me" you begged.

He kissed the tip of your nose before saying "It's ok baby" he leaned up far enough to slip his sweatpants off and kick them away. You felt the head of his cock teasing at your entrance and you felt yourself clench even before he started slowly easing in. When a loud gasp ripped from you he froze "Did I hurt you?" you shook your head "You feel so fucking amazing Rick, never been filled up so much"

He leaned his head over against your chest, kissing the few scars you also had before sliding the rest of the way into you until his hips rested against yours "So fuckin warm and tight and fuckin perfect" he groaned as he gave a tentaive thrust and when you responded by hooking your legs around his waist he lifted his head up to look at you "You're gonna be the death of me..but what a way to go"

---------------------

Your fingers dug into Rick's shoulders as his dug into your hips. Both of you desperate to pull each other closer as both of your highs drew near. He moved to kiss you but you could barely get your mouth to meet his from how fuckin amazing he had you feelin which resulted in you gasping into his mouth "So damn close Rick...fuck I love you" his hips faltered slightly at your words before regaining his pace, pushing you both towards as orgasm.

When he moved his fingers down to rub tight circles onto your clit your eyes tried to close but he spoke with his mouth right next to your ear "Open those eyes darlin. I wanna see you come apart" you opened your eyes and his hazel ones were inches from yours. You pulled him into a kiss just as your orgasm washed over you and when your walls clenched down hard around him it pulled him over the edge with you, he groaned loudly as you felt him coat your insides.

"Fuck that was amazing" you cursed and he looked down at you and smirked "Just what I was thinking" before placing a gentle kiss on your lips. When he pulled out of you,a small gasp left you so he apologized before asking "Wanna get another shower?" you raised an eyebrow "You carryin me Flag? Cause my legs are kinda jello after that" he couldn't have looked more proud of himself if he tried in that moment.

You laid across Rick's chest, one leg throw over his waist as his fingers traced imaginary patterns on your bare thigh "Did you mean what you said or was it an in the moment thing?" he asked and you were confused for a second then realized what he meant and shook your head "Rick, I've been in love with you for longer than I care to admit but I wasn't losing my best friend because of it"

He nodded slowly before using his other hand to tilt your head up to him "You'd never lose me and now you damn sure won't" you felt a blush warm your face. "Rick Flag, I'm yours. You don't have to keep being such a sweet talker" he laughed before shaking his head "Damn right you're mine and I'm yours but I will sweet talk you until the day they put me in the ground darlin" you laughed lightly "Lets get some sleep" he somehow managed to pull you closer before saying "I think I like sleeping in your bed even better than the couch" you grinned up at him "Good, cause tomorrow night we need to break in your place" "Yes ma'am"

@spaghettificationandpretzels

#rick flag x reader #rick flag x y/n #rick flag smut #rick flag fanfiction #rick flag imagine #suicide squad fanfiction #dc fanfic

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lostinwildflowers · 4 months ago

Text

To Befriend A Dragon

Shoto Todoroki x Reader

Summary: Shoto will always deny his father's wishes to find the rarest Mystery Class dragon out there. You're his long-time best friend, and you happen to have a dragon. Things grow intense as your dragon grows more and more hostile toward your friend.

Word Count: 7.3K (...oopsie)

Warnings: Best friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, fluff, mutual pining, smidge of angst if you look, jealous dragon(think Maximus and Flynn Rider), erm... Enji Todoroki mentioned, like 2 cuss words, and a small cut/blood mention

A/N: Hello my lovelies, I have emerged from my cave to finish this Shoto x HTTYD fic! I have been super excited about this one for a long time(like, April of 2023), and I really do love the plot. Be sure to give me your feedback, and please, enjoy!-Birch<3

Useful Info:

Scauldron

Inspo for wet Shoto(This isn't graphic, this is just a wet Shoto XD)

Part i. Romantic Flight- Katsuki Bakugou x Reader

Part ii. Dragon Island- Eijiro Kirishima x Reader

"Y/n!" the call came. It was light, not angry; soft, and yet still somehow loud enough to hear over the crashing of waves on the old wooden fishing docks.

"Y/n?" the call came again, less sure than the first time. It sounded like an ancient hymn, floating on the ocean's fine mist, disappearing just as soon as it arrived.

"Y/n, there you are," this time the voice was just behind you. It was the voice of someone you could spend your entire life listening to. Deep and rich at the same time, tranquil but firm in its timbre.

Your gaze was fixed on the moving waters in front of you, (colored) orbs scoping out every cresting wave, waiting. The gentle touch of a hand on your shoulder draws your attention away from the sea for a split second, long enough to see who was looking for your attention.

Unnaturally white hair. Unusually bright red hair. The locks were split down the center of his head, messy around his eyes, but delicate braids danced around the nape of his neck. One eye was a deep stormy grey, the other a piercing icy blue.

His smile was as warm as the summer rain that fell in the late morning. His posture was straight yet relaxed, just as he was trained. His presence and demeanor were kind, yet stoic.

Shoto Todoroki. Your long-time best friend.

It all started way back. Even further than the village could remember. Your cradles after birth were almost always next to each other growing up. The two of you spent almost every waking moment together as toddlers, mainly being raised by the village elders.

The pair of you spent hours playing on the light, sandy beach looking for unique shells or conches. Hiking through the woods to find interesting colored stones and lush mosses to build forts outside of your houses became an every-summer activity.

You even snuck out to watch the young vikings train their dragons in the middle of the night with the young Todoroki boy. When the flames stopped dancing in the sky, you both would gaze up at the stars, wondering what your lives would hold.

Yes, you had other friends as well, but none of them understood you as deeply as the two-tone-haired boy who you spent every day with. You were the finest of friends, no one could separate you two.

The one thing that could twist your whole relationship with the Todokori boy was the fact that he was the chieftain's son. The Todoroki Tribe was known for finding and taming the rarest mystery class dragons, the most dangerous of dragons.

Shoto's oldest brother had managed to find and tame a gnarly male Bone Knapper, while his sister gentled a Light Fury while traveling. Even Shoto's other brother trained a Changewing that had tried attacking the village.

But Shoto didn't have a dragon. He didn't want a dragon. He loathed his father for forcing such pressure on him, to find the rarest dragon yet and force it to respect him. Shoto didn't ask to be raised as the next leader of his village.

All he ever wanted was a normal life with you, his best friend.

But while Shoto didn't have his own dragon, which was an ongoing argument he had with his father, you did. Your family loved the sea, building a home on the water's edge so you could grow up right next to its murky depths. When you came of age, it was only fitting that a dragon of the water became your own.

When you were just eleven years old, a Scauldron drakaina laid her clutch of eggs on the beach just down the shoreline from your house. She was a gorgeous turquoise-scaled dragon, and her eggs reflected her light bluish-green colors.

You watched her tend to her eggs for several weeks, even going as far as to tend to her needs. You didn't mind making sure she had enough food, you were right next to the sea. You checked to make sure the eggs were warm enough and in a safe location where they wouldn't get crushed when she left to hunt.

When her clutch finally did hatch, one of them instantly chose you. Storm. He was born a deep, steel grey color when he hatched, and the color of his scales reminded you of a summer thunderstorm.

Over time, Storm grew into a large and strong Scauldron, with thick muscle that grew from his swimming in the ocean and eventual flights with you on his back.

As you grew older, so did Storm, the two of you forming a strong connection and bond as a dragon and rider. From the start, he was always a... well, opinionated dragon.

Yet, through it all, Shoto was nothing of supportive of you and your dragon, knowing that his father would never let him have a common dragon such as yours.

Years passed as you and Storm bonded and grew up, and Shoto continued to spend time with you. He would be there to watch you ride Storm, help you teach him a new trick, or even go fishing for the dragon.

Shoto would spend as much time with you as he could to escape his lessons, being the chieftain's son. Holding a bag of fish for you, helping you fit the saddle to his body, anything he could do to be near you. You and Storm were his escape.

"Y/n, there you are," the voice behind you rings out, and a slow glance over your right shoulder allows you to see Shoto standing still behind you, a small leather bag slung over his shoulder.

"Hey, Sho," you say with a smile as you turn to face your best friend. "Did you bring lunch again?" you ask cheekily, trying to peak into the leather satchel on his shoulder.

Shoto's lip curls into what you can call a smirk. To the outside view, there was no change to the young man's face. A scoff falls from his lips as he moves to sit beside you on the edge of the wet docks, "You could call it that. What were you looking at? You seem kind of distracted, Y/n/n."

And distracted you were. You see, years of friendship with the youngest Todoroki boy did not leave you blind. He transformed from a boy into a teen into a man. His voice deepened, his shoulders broadened, and girls flocked to his door in hopes of catching his attention.

Shoto became evidently attractive, and while you tried to brush it off, he was a deadly combination. Sweet, maybe a little daft, and breathtakingly handsome.

A hand on your thigh catches your attention, and you jump at the warm touch, and you whip around to look Shoto in the eyes. There was concern on his angled features, a gentle furrow to his brow at the unusual scatter-brainedness of your actions.

"Are you alright?" he asks again, his low voice just barely more than a whisper as his bi-colored eyes bore deep into your own (colored) ones.

His grey eye reminded you of the scales on Storm's back. Dark, firm, unwavering. His blue eye reminded you of the sea. Piercing, knowing, deadly.

The intensity of his eyes paired with the concerned look on his face was enough for you to shake off your thoughts, placing your hand over his own. Your fingers graze his, and you take the push to thread them through his long digits.

"Just fine, Sho, I was thinking about Storm. I haven't seen him for a while since he went out hunting," is what you manage to croak out.

Shoto squints at you, uncertainty lacing his gaze. "You're lying," he states blankly as if it's a matter-of-fact statement. You huff at him in an almost-offended disbelief, turning to face the clouded blue water in front of you.

"No, I'm not," you grumble out, "I haven't seen Storm in almost two days, he usually comes back faster than that. I'm worried about him."

Shoto's grip on your thigh tightens a little bit as he squeezes the flesh there and replies, "I don't doubt that, Y/n. I think you're lying about being okay. You've been like this for a while now. What's going on with you?"

Deep down, Shoto was afraid you had found someone, or that your parents had found a nice young viking for you to get married to and you wouldn't see him anymore. You had been starting to pull away, and it scared him to death.

In reality, you were scared to death because you had just started to realize why your hands got shaky around Shoto. You had started to realize why his compliments made your cheeks burn and your voice weaken.

You liked him. But he was your best friend, you couldn't like him. He couldn't possibly like you like that... right?

You stay silent, so Shoto takes a moment to continue, "Y/n/n, I have spent every day of my life with you, I can tell when something is wrong." You regain eye contact with him, your lips parting as your thoughts raced through your head.

You could feel your heart pounding harder and harder with every second, the butterflies building and swelling in your stomach. The words were just on the tip of your tongue-

A roar splits and cracks the air open, an enormous wave of seawater heading directly for you and Shoto. You find the head of the dragon in an instant, and you let out a yell as the icy water coats you and the boy sitting next to you.

Storm lets out another roar, diving back into the water and splashing his tail in your direction, the water smacking an already drenched and shocked Shoto in the side furthest from you.

"What the hell, Storm!?" you screech as your dragon dove back into the depths of the water, peeking his head up above the surface once he swam far enough away he couldn't get scolded by you.

There's one important part about your dragon- he hates Shoto.

From the day Storm hatched, he disliked the two-toned head of the youngest Todoroki boy. Shoto never did anything to make the Scauldron hate him, but the steel-colored dragon always had a bone to pick with your best friend.

As a young hatchling, Storm had a tendency to nip at people who weren't you. It didn't matter if they had food or not, he was always a little tense around others. When you introduced Shoto to Storm, your dragon took it upon himself to launch at your best friend.

He had latched onto Shoto's boot, his razor-sharp teeth cutting through the new leather, and ripping it right off of his foot. Shoto had been knocked to the ground, the air pulled from his lungs.

You had immediately scolded Storm, putting him in a large cage in the corner of your room while you tended to Shoto. His sock had been shredded from Storm's teeth, but otherwise, he was left unharmed.

That first incident with Storm should have been Shoto's first clue that things wouldn't be smooth sailing anytime he tried to be with you.

When the two of you were older and allowed to roam freely, you often took hiking trips into the woods. You both still had the hearts of children, but were more competent and aware of your surroundings.

Plus, you had a dragon.

But, Storm still found a hatred for the Todoroki boy, tripping him when the paths in the woods got rocky. Shoto ended up with several rolled ankles, to which he would tell his father he was training and got hurt.

Your Scauldron would knock Shoto into the water when you would haul in the fishing nets at the end of the day. The air would have cooled off, leaving you chilled if you got wet.

Storm learned that you and Shoto hated it whenever Shoto got soaked. So he did it more and more often.

Shoto somehow put up with it. Ever patient, ever forgiving, Shoto never once tried to put up a fight against Storm or got truly angry with him. He had his moments where he wanted to get the dragon back, but he knew you would be angry with him.

Shoto had such a care for you that he couldn't take out his frustrations on your dragon, no matter how much torture he was put through.

It drove Shoto insane from the inside, but he could never show that to you. Storm was your dragon, and you loved him, and Storm loved you. Shoto knew there was no way he could get between you and your dragon, so he learned to live with it.

Shoto did try to befriend Storm, but he was unsuccessful every time. He would bring the large dragon an extra fish he caught when he dropped by your house. You showed the red and white-haired teen where to scratch the dragon's chin the way he liked.

The boy even went as far as to change Storm's bedding in his nesting stall. None of it worked. So, Shoto did his best to be kind to the dragon while not making it an apparent issue to you.

In an instant, your clothes were clinging to your frame, the iciness of the water chilling you to the bone. You were in shock, first at the surprise of being drenched in cold, salty seawater, but also at the fact that Storm went out of his way to be mean to Shoto.

Your mouth had dropped in surprise, the tang of salt clinging to your lips as you brushed a sopping piece of hair out of your eyes. You turned to look at Shoto, who was in a similar state as you.

His pink lips were parted open, water streaming down his face and dripping off at the edge of his sharp jaw. Shoto's hands clenched at his sides, instinctively trying to shy away from the dragon who sprayed the water in the first place.

"Sh-Shoto, are you alright?" you manage to stumble out, your teeth clacking together, out of your control. He turned to look at you, shock also evident on his features. He just shook his head once, water droplets spraying everywhere, much like a wet dog.

It took him a second to respond, but he managed to murmur, "Yeah, yeah, I think I'm good. I wasn't expecting that at all."

Once Shoto locked eyes on your drenched figure, he swallowed thickly. Every ounce of your clothing was clinging tightly to your body, outlining every curve and dip.

While you noticed the way Shoto grew up, he also noticed how you changed. He saw how maybe your height didn't change that much, but he saw your hips widen and chest fill out.

Shoto saw the way your hair grew longer and your cheeks became less round. He saw the way your lips would catch between your teeth when you were concentrated and the way your eyelashes fluttered when you laughed.

And now, a developed woman with clothes hugging your every curve, Shoto did his best to fight to pink that was rising to his cheeks at his unholy thoughts.

He had to stop those thoughts from swirling around in his mind. You are his best friend, for Odin's sake! He can't be thinking about you like a lover.

Shaking his head less aggressively again to clear his thoughts, he gently urges, "Let's get you warmed up." He pulls his hands from where they were clutching at his sides and offers one to you. You shudder as a chill washes over you, slowly grabbing his outreached hand.

As Shoto pulls the two of you into a standing position, you glance back into the water to see Storm's figure had disappeared. A lump forms in your throat at the cruelness of your dragon for no apparent reason.

Shoto releases your hand, instead, bringing it up to your shoulder. He lightly rubs at it, trying to get your attention, "Come on, grab your things." You turn back toward him and nod shakily, reaching down to grab your own small pack.

How could Storm do that? I know he and Shoto haven't always gotten along, but this is cruel, even for him.

While you got lost in your thoughts, walking up the length of the pier, you missed Shoto falling into step behind you. You didn't even notice him stalling, pulling his drenched shirt off to wring it out over the shore.

Your footstep creaking on a slippery wooden board makes you notice that it's quiet behind you, save for the crashing of waves. You look over your shoulder to see Shoto's back facing you.

Taut, lean muscle laced his back, the skin pale as porcelain, but intricate like a marble statue. Only then do your eyes catch a glimpse of his wet shirt in his hands, drops of water falling from it as his hands worked over the fabric.

Your eyes follow his back to his shoulders, pausing over the bulge in his bicep. He must have really started training hard, the thought races through your head.

Your (colored) gaze flicks up to find Shoto's piercing one already latched onto you.

Shit. He so just caught you staring.

"Sh-Shoto, what are you doing?!" you yelp out as you spin around as fast as you can. The slippery board under your foot gives way as heat rushes to your cheeks at the sight of your best friend undressing.

A million thoughts are racing through your mind as your knee slams into the wet dock, a cry falling from your lips. You don't hear his response as pain takes over as your main concern.

You hear a curse fall from Shoto's lips as he tosses his wet shirt over his shoulder, carefully making his way over to you. His hands, now cooled from the water, reach out to you as he replies innocently to your question, "My shirt was wet, I was trying to remove some of the water out of it."

He then offers you his hand, a kind look on his face. Ever the gentleman, you think to yourself as the pain in your knee radiates and then slowly dissipates away.

You scoffed internally as he pulled you to your feet, How many times have I seen him without a shirt on, and here I am making a big deal out of it?

A moment passes and the touch of his other hand on your shoulder makes you about jump out of your skin. Distracted (colored) eyes lock onto his own bi-colored ones, and you feel like a blubbering mess as your eyes dart between the grey and blue colors, and the toned, naked, chest in front of you.

Once again that day, Shoto has a look of concern on his face as he asks, "Are you alright, Y/n? This isn't all that strange, remember? Your dragon has hated me as long as I remember."

Just as you open your mouth to answer him, a large wave hits the dock again, and a split second later, you feel Shoto being ripped away from you and knocked into the water off the side of the pier. You catch sight of Storm emerging from the ocean, a scowl coming across your face as your lips part in anger.

A yell rips itself from your already opened mouth, and you lunge forward as Shoto is swept away in the current below the docks. His wet shirt landed on the pier next to your feet, thankfully, but that wasn't your main worry.

You were already nervous about it being so cool and then being drenched, but panic overtakes you as you realize what Shoto was headed straight for.

The fishing nets.

Storm flaps up and onto the shoreline a few yards away, looking proud of himself as water slides off of his deep grey scales. You turn toward the dragon, tears of anger pushing at the edges of your eyes as you scream, "Get out of here, Storm! Go away!"

The large Scauldron huffs out an angered roar, but with a few massive wingbeats, hauls himself into the air and flies toward the village. You don't wait to see him leave, instead turning your attention back to your best friend in the water.

Shoto had resurfaced and was coughing on seawater, his arms and legs caught in the holes of the netting. With his limbs tangled and airways full of water, this could be bad. You don't waste any time after that realization, and you dive into the water, aiming to stay away from the net.

Your limbs ache at the instant coolness of the water, and you gasp as you enter the icy sea. Forcing your arms and legs into motion, you aim toward Shoto as you feel your body slow down.

Limbs flailing to get closer, you call to him, "Shoto, hang out!" In a desperate grab, your fingers latch onto the edge of the fishing net, and you use all of your strength to start pulling it to a depth where you can stand.

You manage to take a deep, gasping breath when your feet feel sand underneath them, and you cry out as you tug on the net. "Are you okay?!" You manage as you pull the net through the shallows, still hearing Shoto coughing up water.

Shoto goes to answer you as you see him start to untangle himself, but all you hear is a "Ye-" before a wave crashes into Shoto's bare back. The force of the water knocks him face-first into the shallows, and you lunge toward him to try to help pull him up.

Fingers grasping for his arm, you tug him back up, hearing him spit out more water, exhausted from fighting the net, the salty water filling his lungs, and the effort of his body to keep him warm for so long.

Your fingers, now throbbing from the cold, fumble as you search your belt, the digits slow and uncoordinated. You grip the blade as tightly as you can once you find it, cutting at the tangled nets.

Shoto manages to sputter out, "Y/n, I- I'm o-okay," coughing and trying to regain his air. You finish tugging the final piece of net away from his feet, the two of you heaving yourselves out of the water.

Worry overtakes you as you regard your best friend, "Shoto, are you alright? Oh, my heavens..." Your eyes lock onto his paled face, white and red hair splattered across his forehead.

You lunge forward, catching his cheeks in your hands as your eyes detect pink water trailing down the side of his face. Shoto brings his hand up to push the hair off of his face, a small grunt leaving his mouth when he comes in contact with a scrape hidden on his forehead.

This scrape was the source of the pink water, and even more worry overcomes you, but not before the thought of how oddly handsome he looked at that moment.

Compared to his usual hair styling, the red and white locks were intertwined with each other. Pushed up off of his forehead into a messy comb-over, your breath was stolen for your lungs.

He looked devilishly handsome. It was a terrible thought to have when you should have been rushing him off to clean up his wound and put warm clothes on.

But he did. He looked so good, you couldn't help the way your mouth parted in shock as you gazed up at him.

Shoto, mistakenly thought your reaction was to the throbbing in his head, which he assumed to be a cut. "Is the cut that bad?" he asks daftly, the hand which had been running through his hair coming up to cover one of your own.

His other hand finds its place on your hip unknowingly, stabilizing his unsteady stance. You blink, your mind still reeling as you process his words, "N-no, it's not that bad. Just, uh, caught me off-guard."

Shoto's heterochromatic eyes fix on you, waiting for you to elaborate. It's quiet for a moment, with your hands on his cheeks, his hand covering your own.

He takes it upon himself to fill the silence, his hand moving to cup your own cheek, brushing a stray piece of wet hair away from your eyes. He takes a shivery breath and starts, "Y/n, I-" "Let's get warmed up," you state at the same time.

A flash of an unreadable emotion washes over Shoto's face, and you internally curse yourself for cutting him off. You open your mouth to ask him what he was going to say, but he beats you to it.

"I was going to say the same thing," he said slowly, dropping his hands from your face and side, taking a step back. You instantly retract your hands to your chest, nodding once as you glance at the ground.

Shoto doesn't say anything as he slightly limps back to the pier, grabbing his drenched satchel and his shirt, which is now soaked again. You bring your arms to wrap around yourself as you stiffly cross the beach, heading to the pier to grab your own small sack.

You move to pass Shoto, aiming for where you had been sitting on the edge of the wooden dock, but an outstretched arm stops you. You look up at him inquisitively until he rotates his palm to face you. His fingers open up, his large hand revealing your small leather sac.

"I figured it would save you the hassle," he murmurs lowly, setting it in your awaiting hands. You give him a small nod in thanks, clearing your throat to say, "We can go get warmed up at my house if you don't want your father to see you like this."

Now it's Shoto's turn to nod, gesturing with his chin, he asks, "Lead the way?" You offer a small smile before ducking your head down, trudging your way up the dock toward you home up the shoreline.

It was quiet at your house - it was only you who lived there, after all. You had moved out of your family home once you came of age, but you couldn't bring yourself to leave the shore.

There were still embers burning in the hearth when you pried your door open, Shoto not far behind. The two of you were quiet on the walk to your house, an unspoken tension thick in the air.

You couldn't deny it now. Your dragon was trying to drive a wedge in between you and your best friend.

A sigh falls from your lips as some weight leaves your shoulders upon entering your home. Shoto quietly closes the door behind you as you walk into the living room.

You make your way over to the hearth, trying to keep your teeth chattering to a minimum. Shoto, who was still shirtless, followed close behind.

Your hands wavering and numb from the cold, reached for small logs you had chopped a few days before. They were set off to the side so you could throw them on as needed.

Shivers start racing up and down your body as you fumble with the log, your teeth clacking together unceremoniously. "Let me," his deep voice sounds out, his hands coming into view.

He grabs the log from you, with much less shake than you, and gently tosses it on the fire. Shoto quietly grabs your shoulder, pulling you away from the fire. You willingly let him manhandle you, watching silently as he takes your place, throwing more kindling on the growing smoke, softly blowing to ignite a flame.

"Sh-Sho, y-your head," you stutter out as you catch sight of red leaking down his forehead. With the hair still pushed up out of his eyes, you could see the gash still oozing.

He turns to you, cocking one eyebrow as if to say, What about it? You shift on your feet as you motion shakily to his head, "It's s-still bleeding. We need to get it-t cleaned up. N-no sense in getting dry clothes d-dirty."

You offer him a crooked smile, clenching down on your teeth to stop them from chattering. He stands up and walks over to you, his height looming over you.

"You're cold," he states blankly, noting the blue tint to your lips and the short, shallow breaths you were trying to calm down. But he also knows you won't rest until he's cared for, watching your eyes flit between his and the cut.

Shoto sighs through his nose before whispering, "Alright, work your magic." With a slight roll of his eyes, you drag him toward your table, where you sit him down on a tall stool.

You struggle to take off your vest, which is drenched, but Shoto sits still and watches, his cheeks once again heating up at the way your clothes cling to your body.

You roam around for a few minutes, lighting a lantern to set next to Shoto, gathering a clean bucket of water, some clean towels, and a soft bandage that you could wrap his head with.

The moving around seemed to help warm you up a little, but you were still feeling chills run up and down your spine as you stopped in front of Shoto.

"This may sting a little," you mumble softly, "The seawater probably got dirt in there." It's a bit of an obvious statement, but you didn't know how else to face the tension of Shoto. As long as you've known him, he's been intense.

But he's never been intense like this.

His gaze is sharp and almost narrowed. There is a furrow in his brow that makes you almost nervous, but you know you have no reason to be.

Your own brows knit close together as you regard him, softly urging, "Shoto, is that alright?" His eyes seem to focus on you a little more at that, and he gives you a nod, straightening up a bit on the stool.

You quietly set to work, delicately pushing the hair off of his forehead and dipping a clean towel in the water. As you bring the towel up to his face, you can suddenly hear blood pounding in your ears.

A wave of butterflies washes over you when you realize how intimately close you are to Shoto's face. If he notices your pause, he doesn't say anything.

The towel makes wobbly contact with the edge of the cut, and Shoto draws back with a sharp hiss of pain, his hand reflexively coming up to pull your wrist away from his face.

A startled look comes across your face and you take a step back, trying to pry yourself away from him. Shoto realizes his mistake instantly and rushes, "Y/n/n, I didn't mean to-" "It's fine," you cut him off with a squeak.

Shoto can see the look of hurt on your face, and a part of his heart crumples at the sight. He releases your wrist, but he doesn't let you get away from him. Instead, he grabs you by both hips and parts his legs, allowing you to stand in between his thighs.

"I'm sorry for pulling away, I- I wasn't ready," he says lowly, looking up at you with a sincere look on his face. If you thought your blood was rushing before, now it is roaring in your ears.

You just bite your tongue and give him a small nod of your head, slowly bringing the rag up to clean the edge of his cut again. You feel Shoto tense beneath you with a fast breath, but he transforms his pain from pulling away to a tightened grip on your hip.

His jaw clenches as you work as quick as you can, cleaning his wound before reaching for the soft bandage you had found. Just as you finish securing it around his head, Shoto stops you.

"Do you know why Storm hates me so much?"

The question makes you halt, every part of your body going still. You stare at your best friend, your mind whirring as you wonder where this is coming from.

You shrug and start to dismiss his question, but he stands up, his presence regaining that oddly intense feel. His eyes darken and his voice lowers a notch as he repeats, "Do you know why Storm hates me so much?"

Your mouth falls slack and your mind goes blank as Shoto moves closer and closer to you. As you take one step back, he's already filling the space. Before you know it, he has you backed into a wall, his heterochromatic eyes never once leaving your (colored) ones.

"Sh-Shoto, I don't know what you're talking about," you stutter out, this time, not because of the cold. Your heart is racing, your cheeks are burning, and it's becoming harder and harder to breathe.

A dry laugh falls from Shoto's lips as he rests his arms on either side of your head, trapping you in. "You really don't know?" is all he asks, with no hint of emotion or degradation in his voice.

You shake your head left and then right, feeling an immense amount of pressure on your face. Shoto takes a deep breath to re-center himself before he asks, "Why doesn't Storm hate all of the other guys my age?"

A frown etches itself on your features as you ponder his question. Why didn't Storm hate all of the other guys in the village? Your lips fall open in thought, and you look down as you try to come up with a suitable answer.

Shoto's right hand moves from its place on the wall to cup your jaw, his thumb tucking itself under your chin. He pulls your head up slowly so that you meet his gaze again.

"Why doesn't Storm hate all of the other guys my age? What makes me so different?" he repeats, this time a little more emotion, a little more urgency.

You look at him again, and only one thought comes to mind. I can't. I can't say it's that. I don't even know if that is the reason.

"I don't know, Shoto," you start to whisper, but he cuts you off, "You're lying to me," and this time his voice is thick. You scan his face for emotion, and you finally start to see his walls caving.

His grey and blue eyes are beginning to line with tears as he repeats again, "What makes me so terrible that he treats me this way? Why am I his only target?"

Shoto shuffles, caging you in closer and closer until you have no other option than to answer him. Your mouth parts, your skin burning where his large hand has cupped your jaw, lips loose from the way your best friend is falling apart in front of you.

But he's not really your best friend, is he?

You go to talk, but there is even more urgency when he almost growls, "What did I do to him?! What did I do to you?!" As he talks, his grip on you gets tighter and tighter, and you notice tears starting to fall from his eyes.

Your eyes snap shut as you burst out, "You made me fall in love with you!" A rush of butterflies floods your stomach and you feel like you're about to throw up.

A moment passes and you wait to feel Shoto pull away, you wait for him to pull his hand away from your face and ask you what the hell you were talking about.

But instead, you hear him whisper, "Open your eyes." You tighten them and shake your head once, "I- I can't." You feel him shuffle and his grip on your face loosens, repositioning his hand to brush that wet, stray piece of hair away from your face.

"Y/n, open your eyes, please," he requests, his touch softening and his presence becoming less intense, "Look at me when you tell me you love me, so that I can say it back."

His statement has your eyes opening from where they were scrunched shut, and they are wide as they gaze up at him. Shoto has a smile on his face, tearstains running down his cheeks.

"Shoto, you-" "You made me fall in love with you, too," he murmurs, a soft huff of a laugh accompanying his words. A smile breaks out on your face as you lean into him, your hands coming up gently to brush the tears off of his delicate cheekbones.

Shoto leans into your touch as he explains, "From the moment Storm saw me, he has seen me as a threat. Dragons are much more emotionally intelligent than they let on. He always has known that I-"

And then his voice catches in his throat. Your heart swells at the emotion you hear in his voice, but you don't stop him. Shoto clears his throat as his hand works its way into your hair, "Storm has always known that I love you."

"Shoto, I am so deeply in love with you," you rush out as you lean into him, "I just never thought you would-" "I always have," he cuts you off, his voice rough and meaningful.

Shoto is looking at you like you hung the moon and stars, but as his gaze locks onto your (colored) one, it dips a little lower. Before you know it, your nose is brushing his, Shoto's breath hot on your face.

Butterflies rekindle in your stomach as you lean into him even more. Shoto is no better, his mind is only focused on you, and how badly he wants to kiss you.

Just as your lips start to graze his, there's a knock at the door. Shoto pulls back a few inches and you hear him whisper under his breath, "Fuck."

The curse word coming from your best friend, no, lover, draws a laugh from you, but you can't blame him. You had been dreaming of this moment for years. Then, a pang of nervousness washes over you as you realize - it's probably Enji Todoroki at the door.

"Fuck indeed," you whisper back as you look up at Shoto. Shoto, who is still very much shirtless and in wet clothes. You, who is still dressed in your drenched clothes, pinned against the wall.

You swallow deeply and say, "It's alright, I'll go check the door. I can say you're getting changed in my room. I'm pretty sure there's a spare set of clothes in there."

Shoto nods and begins to pull away, but something changes in his gaze, and he leans back in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. It's not what you had been expecting or wanting, but nonetheless, it makes your heart rate skyrocket again.

Shoto chuckles at the way your brain stalls, and he backs away into your room as you sway against the wall. Another knock sounds out from the front door and you call, "C-coming!"

You can hear another laugh come from Shoto at the waver in your voice. Damn Shoto, now he knows the effect he has on me. Your legs are wobbly as you walk up to your door, and you have to give yourself false confidence as you prepare to face Shoto's father.

You swing the door open and are met with silence. Confusion floods over you as you look to the left and right of your door, and there is no one present.

A frown etches its way onto your features as you call out, "Hello? Anyone there?" A moment later, loud scuffling sounds ring out from your roof, and then, Storm jumps onto the ground outside of your front door.

The large grey Scauldron holds his head low, a solemn look on his face. You let a sigh out of your nose as you look at your dragon, who was bearing the look of a kicked dog.

"Alright, Storm. I get it now. You were jealous because I didn't have eyes just for you. Come here, big boy," you say, opening your arms to his head. Storm swings his long neck and head over to you, cuddling into your frame in apology for his actions.

You hear footsteps behind you, and when you pull away from Storm, you are met with a freshly dressed Shoto. The red and white-haired man looks between you and the dragon, initially with distrust on his porcelain features, but then he gets a good look at your face.

You nod your head toward Storm as if to say, See? It's over now. Shoto slowly walks up behind you, offering his hand out to Storm in a friendly manner. Storm pulls away from you, looking at Shoto in a similar distrust.

I'm not letting this happen again, you think to yourself as you cut in, "Storm, stop it." The dragon turns to look at you, and you take a step closer to Shoto, taking his hand in your own.

"Storm, you are my only dragon," you tell him, and then you glance at Shoto with a smile and say, "But Shoto is my only person. You have to accept that he will be in my life."

Storm stares at you for a second before letting a low roar and breath out. He lowers his head to the ground again, pressing his large skull against Shoto's outstretched hand.

Both you and Shoto can't stop the electric smiles on your faces as Storm pulls away, kindly. The dragon turns to walk away, his wings spreading out on either side. In a couple of large, dramatic flaps, Storm heads back toward the village.

Shoto watches your gaze follow Storm until he disappears, tightening his grip on your hand. "Y/n/n, I think it's time you get changed. I don't want you to get sick because of me."

You turn to look at Shoto, and with a sly grin, you mumble, "But at least I'll have you if I get sick, right?" Shoto shakes his head with a smile but replies, "You'll have me regardless if you get sick."

He then gets shy for a moment as he says quieter, "That is, if you'll have me." You squeeze his hand before letting it go, and you see a moment of panic flash across Shoto's face.

But you wrap your arms around his neck, your fingers threading through the drying locks at the base of his head, finding the damp braids on his nape. You smile up at him gently as you lean into him slowly, "You made me fall in love with you, Shoto. I will have you in whatever ways you give me."

And that was enough incentive for him. One of Shoto's hands finds its place on your jaw, while the other grabs at your waist. The clothes are damp under his touch, but he doesn't seem to mind.

Shoto tilts your head back, moving quickly at first, his mouth chasing yours. But just as his lips go to brush over yours, he slows down. His nose brushes against yours, and a shaky breath falls from your mouth as you await his kiss.

Shoto lets out a sigh, "I will have you in every way, but you need to get in dry clothes first. I have waited my whole life to kiss you, I can wait a few more moments."

A groan builds up in your throat, but you comply, pulling away from him slowly and starting toward your house. You turn and look over your shoulder, calling out, "Shoto Todoroki, you will be the death of me."

Shoto smirks and faces you, calling back, "And befriending your dragon will be the death of me."

-The End-

144 notes · View notes

dia-oro · 3 months ago

Note

Imagine referring to The Chain as your 'wifes'

And they would carry proud that tittle! You all just have to do is love them and be there for them in their moments that old ghost visit their minds, because what better than be love by someone that will stay in the down as in their up? time was raise by the forest spirit child’s, do you think this man know what the difference from wife to husband? He will take it at stride being your dear wife and your rock to stay ground when you feel like falling apart by just the most gentle breezed. Also he come with a bonus, because how no to love malon? She now call you both her precious wife’s. (And you been your knees at malon supremacy) if wars try to correct you just put ‘male’ in from of the wife and he done for, he will even Pratt that he your male wife, heck he will be competitive with sky and twilight for seeing how more male wife material of the three of them (only if poly chain) of no well, he still will talk about you to every-fucking-one even with the help of wind he will have photos of you and will show it at times and call himself a lucky man (sorry Lana, the best person win him) and Zelda and impa are just ‘good for him’ aplaude his dedication, now wars attention to the conference!. blame wars that now he ‘male wife’ but for you twilight will just smile and let you call him wifey, just let the wifey one for private moments between the two of you. Need a hug but can’t say it? Your wife twilight will be at your side as wolfy confronting in silence you as you always did in the twilight hours.

legend, legend legend… he will snark, he will give these roll of eyes like is his job, but the moment he think somebody is messing with you? Someone made you cry? Hurt you feelings? He will proclaim very loudly that he your wife and that whoever did make you even let a little tear will know these boots are no only to got faster, they kick ass good to.

I hope you know that sky just like time come with a bonus, what does is feel that when you say it the first think he did is write Zelda because finally happened! You admit you’re theirs (well, you call him wifey! That counts right?) because he have been talking to his girl very serious of these feeling at Zelda at the moment she see you she know you’re their, call it Hylia, destiny or just you’re so special to her and to her beloved that must be that you’re make for them! Congrats, your human blood is probably still in some hero’s and they survive so much shite because of it, don’t think to deep of it or that some Zelda’s did have your blood no only the goddess in their body. four… if you see him freeze for like 15 minutes is like no because you did wrong but because the colors are going rampant, blue never will admit it but he very fluttered by it, vio may say ‘but I’m a man’ but do you think he really mind?? You better be prepare for him planing the pretties ring just for you, green is trying to control red, red is gone gone like for a fucking second you can be sure they lost him, but now he okay and planning the wedding even he was trying to convince vio and blue of they using a dress for making it the whole wife thing more official. do you understand you just call a Fae your wife right? Half or not, you’re now spouses in his mind, there’s no going back so live a happy ever after with your man, now you have in all Eras many sisters in law, he will try his best to make his world the best for you, he will there to help his Zelda to make the world you live and breathe one that one day world living.

My dear, wild, well, wild is doing a flip in the air giving twilight a heart attack right now, do you think he even know what gender mean? Do you see some of the clothes he use?? All he know is now he your wife and will make sure no blood moon , nail polish or even ganon follower ruined your day, he wild take you to ride his best Horse, present you to the lord of the mountain, give you his best food to make, best piece, you’re now his dear spouse in his mind, now yes he didn’t even remember how someone marry so he pretty sure you just call your beloved either ‘husband’ or ‘wife’ and done, you can’t unmake this dear.

#linked universe #link #link x reader #linked universe x reader #can be normal link can be yandere link but are dorks #But they will take it as your confession so congrats #linkeduniverse #yandere link #if you want #and remember! Sky and time always come bonus of a 2 x 1 because you cannot have them without their beloves #Now you’re Zelda and malon wifey double congrats

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evilminji · 1 year ago

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Can You "Accidental Baby Acquisition" Yourself?

Like? Say you have a You... who is NOT You, obviously, but A You in the Multiversal sense... and their childhood suuuuuucked. Just? Truely awful for reasons beyond their control.

Such as the veil NOT being so easily peirced in their reality and humanity a bit more... Reactive(tm) to ectoplasm, due to the lower concentration of it in the Everything of their Universe. Which makes their parents research? Unattainable. Dangerous.

Ultimately fatal to their elder sister.

And then later, them.

Not that they were even the loving if wildly eccentric parents most of the other You's KNOW and have. Due to that very say research and their long-term exposure to their own samples. The Reactivity.

"Pit Rage" as some circles call it.

They weren't themselves. Stopped BEING themselves long before their children ever came into the picture. If they could think clearly, they would BEG for someone to save their children. From them. From their house of horrors. From what they've become.

And well? You exsist outside of Time. In the Zone. Maybe you have a wide and crazy adventure with this grizzled, worn, badass of a You. Figure he's pretty cool. Ask if he needs anything. And he laughs this broken glass in your chest sort of sound and says:

"Not unless you could give me a real childhood."

Like? Dude. Buddy. My buddy dude. Gonna have to explain that one. You can't just drop that and walk away. We Crazy Action Bros Adventure(tm) bonded. You can tell me. And reluctantly... he kinda does.

And... Look. You exsist outside of TIME. Your mentor IS Time. You can TOTALLY do that.

This.

But like? You realize... there wouldn't be TWO of you... right? If you take mini-Bamf out of the timestream at point A... you, big guy, stop existing at every instance of point B and onwards.

Yeah. Yeah, he gets that. Fully consents. His life was full of bad decisions and dramatic bullshit. He wants a real childhood. His sister back. Wants them BOTH out of that house and somewhere safe. If he could do it himself, he would. Call it his fucked up way of healing. Finally facing his trauma. It's haunted him long enough.

.....well then. Now You've got a baby and a fussy toddler. They have superpowers because of course they do. That house was OSHAs waking nightmares and deepest fever dreams. Jazzypants is hungy. And baby You did a stinky.

This is Fine(tm).

You're a King! You can TOTALLY handle this! Teeeeeemporarily. Since it's not like they can stay HERE. The Zone is literally uninhabitable long term for the living. So time to fire up the ol Brain Meats. Gremlin Ideas formulating. Loading... Loading... Loooooooading. Got it!

You kidnapped them.

Brilliant! FRIGHTY! Where's the Trenchcoat Booze Slu-...SLUHeuth. Sleuth! Totally what I was planning to say, Starshines! Don't curse. Cursing Bad~☆

The Detective Of Loose Morales in The Trenchcoat, who's Soul I Own, Frighty! Where's he at?? *Distant muffled answer* Close enough! Time to give him a heart attack! And throw a fight! Can you toss me a nightmare medallion? I need to instill mortal terror! Thaaaanks, Frighty! Also can you change diapers? *affirmative noises* Ancients, you're the best.

Smash cut to John Constantine. Busting up some cult, as you do. When? Oh fuck. The leaders heading for the store room! Not today, fucker! They fight. They struggle. It's Manly and Gritty and dramatic! When?

A terrible CRASH. Some artifact must have activated. What... have you DONE? *dramatic musical sting* swirling green and DEATH radiates out from a pin prick of nothing. A black hole in reverse. The cold oblivion of space, given bones to claw its way free. Eyes that sear in colors too technicolor and hypersaturated to be mortal. Green. Green! GREEN.

Ice and stars and death and a terrible, unspeakable Crown.

Two... two little sprogs. Tiny bits of nothing in a monsters hand. KIDS, wrapped up in something they never should of even had to nightmare about. John's eyes catch on red, red hair. A tiny little headband with butterflies on it. Pressed so close to dark locks, as she wraps herself around her little bits of a sibling.

The other ones dressed up in stars.

Someone SOLD their fuckin KIDS. Or this damned this STOLE them. It doesn't matter. Not now, not to John. Because this bastard isn't keeping them. He slides like breathing into the waves of luck and chance, odds and fate. Is on his feet and drawing attention. Whatever it takes, he's leaving here with those kids.

He laughs and it's not a kind one.

"Oi! A word if you will?"

@hypewinter @hdgnj @the-witchhunter @nerdpoe @ailithnight

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #danny tricks John in taking the munchkins #john TOTALLY won these infants fair and square guys #he says showing up covered in ash to the next meeting #with two toddlers he has no idea what to do with #so uuuuh #anyone want two kids?#batman put your fucking hand down

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crookedquotesonfood · 2 months ago

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"406 or Hong Hee Joo, he wouldn’t care anyway."

Many fans watching the show tend to focus on the male lead without noticing the female lead's feelings, or they somewhat underestimate her emotions.

But in my opinion, Hee Joo's feelings are very clear, even bordering on... madness and recklessness. From the start, although she said she wanted to grab the phone to ask for a divorce, the nature of that call seemed more like she wanted to vent her disappointment to him, to talk to him, to draw his attention. When she heard his concern for her over the phone, she happily rewound it over and over like a child, then laughed, "So he does get scared, after all."

She became flustered whenever he showed care for her, worried when he was attacked, and because of just one sentence from him, her emotions became chaotic, her heart constantly hoping that he would say just one confirming thing: "I care about you. Everything I’ve done and said was because I feared you’d get hurt." But our spokesperson here has his own troubles—he cannot confess his feelings, which makes her even more confused and uncertain. She fears that she might be deluding herself, thinking he cares when in reality he may just feel pity or honor-bound.

She practiced sign language using his videos—not in the usual sense of memorizing but in a way where she could tell, just from a quick glance at his shirt color or the background, exactly what the video was about. She studied so obsessively that she understood what he would say next even before he voiced it.

Then, after her father was threatened and she was repeatedly kidnapped and blackmailed, one might think she’d cave into fear and obey that madman’s manipulation. But no, because he came for her, she believed. Even though she was still hesitant and couldn’t muster the courage to speak the truth, even though she was panicking, she decided she couldn’t use that phone anymore and began to open up to her husband. I believe that if her sister hadn’t returned, sooner or later, she would have confessed everything and faced the hardships with him. But without drama, would it even be a chaebol romance?

Her sister’s return woke her up. She realized she was still just a puppet, a substitute, so she wanted to run away before getting hurt any further. During the party, hearing her mother insult her and her sister’s friends belittle her only made her more exhausted. The breaking point was seeing the man she loved standing and smiling with them. He was lofty and untouchable on his pedestal, while she was as insignificant as a speck of dust in the mud. How despairing it must have been!

When she was on the rooftop, she called him using the 406 number. I don’t know if others think the same as me, but I feel she didn’t do it just because she feared the kidnapper (at least not entirely). She wanted to use this method to catch his attention again. The phone rang again and again, but he didn’t pick up, making Hee Joo feel even more miserable. Her inner voice was like a plea: "It’s fine if you don’t care about me. But even if I approach you as 406, do you still not care?"

Both Hee Joo and Sa Eon love and feel deeply insecure because of each other. I hope they quickly grow, face their true feelings, confess and live happily ever after. Watching them suffer makes me sad too!

#when the phone rings #hong hee joo #paik sa eon

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tomasweetheart · 2 years ago

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MY FAV HQ BOYS BEING . . . in love w/ you !

various hq boys x m!reader (includes sugawara, iwaizumi, sakusa, bokuto & ushijima), established relationship, reader uses he/him pronouns, post-timeskip implications

warnings: tooth-rotting fluff, the hq boys being absolutely head-over-heels for you, use of pet names, reader gets called 'handsome' (sakusa), reader gets called 'pretty boy' (sugawara), a tad suggestive in iwa's but nothing too serious, reader gets his nails painted & called gorgeous (bokuto)

notes: thinkin' about the boys being so deep in love with someone it makes them sick to even be that head-over-heels, sighs

SUGAWARA who can't help but stare at your sleeping figure, admiring the way the light of passing cars illuminates your face. gently, he traces the side of your face with his pointer finger. god, he can't believe he got so lucky. you're the prettiest boy he's ever laid his eyes on, and even better, you're his pretty boy. he sighs contently one more time, pulling you closer to his chest before drifting off to sleep himself.

IWAIZUMI who presses open mouth kisses on your collarbone, sloppily moving his way up your neck in the heat of the moment. hushed "i love you's" falling from his lips as you grip his hair. he makes his way to your jawline, when he pulls back to admire your face. your flush expression and red lips from the intense makout session from only moments before. he smiles to himself, the thought alone that you're all his makes his chest tighten with adoration, before he continues his attack, littering kisses on the rest of your face.

SAKUSA who's normally not too adamant on being less than at least a foot away from someone, being held tightly in your arms as you two watch some random sitcom on t.v. the show soon becomes a blur to kiyoomi as he turns his attention to look upwards at you. god. before he can even think, a simple praise falls from his lips. "you're so handsome, (y/n)." he states, before turning his attention back to whatever was playing on the t.v. he smirks as you're left speechless by his sudden act of affection.

BOKUTO who can't stop giggling as he puts the colorful polish on your fingers. he hasn't painted anyone's nails except his sisters when he was in middle school, and the fact that his oh-so-gorgeous boyfriend had even asked him to do it made him so elated. you'd orignally asked him to be careful, but decided to just let him be. he was having so much fun, you couldn't diminish that. even if most of the polish was ending up on your skin.

USHIJIMA who is so clingy, you don't even recognize the person he is on the court. he always, always, always has to be touching you in some way. whether it be wrapping his large arms around you while you cook dinner, wrapping his arm around your shoulders on the couch while watching a movie or holding your hands tightly in his on just a casual stroll down the sidewalk. being able to touch you reminds him that you're real, and that you're his forever.

#love letters from leo #my dearest haikyuu #hq x reader #hq x male reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x male reader #haikyuu drabbles #ushijima x male reader #iwaizumi x male reader #sugawara x male reader #sakusa x male reader #bokuto x male reader #ushijima fluff #iwaizumi fluff #sugawara fluff #sakusa fluff #bokuto fluff

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cakepoppresent · 3 months ago

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Let Me Beat His Ass

A few things

Lol poor Daisuke his future wife is going through it and hasn't been returning his texts or calls

Malcolm truly is a big baby. Since Malcolm has been told "no" by Luna he doesn't know how to react. He's taking her wanting to see Andre as a personal attack against him rather than his sister just wanting to find out the truth.

Love Veronica and Luna, in an alt time they would have been GREAT

Previous - Next

Transcript under the cut ~

The comments under the pic (it's much smaller on a phone than a computer)

@toucanman - I fucking knew it a rich girl like her would never actually be nice, she was just hiding her bitch ass attitude

@coochielicker - This isn’t the Luna I stan! All SMZ does is lie lie and LIE. Shes been acting for years and its only now shes a diva? Stop playing with my good sis!

@flo- Hmmm...I can see it tho, shes from a super wealthy family its probably her way or no way but who cares was anyone even hurt?

@fruitysims - LOL ive been waiting on something to come out on this hoe. Her nice girl shtick was so overbearing now her true colors are coming out. Thank god

----------------------

Veronica: What did Destiny say? Is she gonna do anything about this?

Luna: She’s looking into it, she trying to find this “source”, Chantel isn’t saying who told her

Veronica: You should send her bitch ass a lawyers letter or something. Can’t be legal to spread malaious rumors like that

Luna: I dunno. I’d rather find this source

Veronica: Where the hell is that man of yours? He must have connections he can use

Luna: Probably... he’s been calling but I don’t even have the time to deal with him right now. Malcolm that bitch still won’t talk to me and now Andre’s face is all over the news and my bitch Dad hasn't even called. It's...a lot right now

Veronica: Let’s travel then, How about Tomarang or Tartosa? Just until everything dies down and you figure out what to do next

Luna: No...I don’t want to leave Andre to deal with this alone and Malcolm is gonna crash out once he sees this online...I can’t leave right now

Veronica: Get off your phone babes. Reading all these comments is going to make you feel worse.

Luna: This is fucking awful and I miss Malcolm, can’t believe his ass won’t talk to me. Benji gives me updates but I’d like to meet Andre with Malcolm.

Veronica: Malcolm is the biggest fucking baby you gotta force him to see reason. If you don’t he’s just gonna pout and mop all day. Let me talk to him

Luna: What are you gonna do? Beat him up?

Veronica: Yes? Beat him up verbally at least. You’re hurting and he needs to get over himself, I'll help him see reason

Luna: He really does listen to you. Don’t be too harsh on him

Veronica: Hush. It's important you guys deal with this Andre thing. Malcolm needs to at least hear him out and stop punishing you for wanting to talk to Andre

Luna: Hahaha Malcolm has always been so sensitive, I wonder where he gets his bitch ass attitude from

Luna: V... it's been hell these past few days. It means a lot that you’re here with me now

Veronica: Babe. You’re basically my sister and I love you. Whatever is happening now will pass I know it will.

Luna: Feels like it's never going to end everything is going to fucking shit. I’ve never fought with Malcolm like this and Benji doesn’t know what to do he hates being in the middle of all this

Veronica: Sleep it off. I can’t help with what's going on online but I can and I WILL speak with Malcolm okay?

Luna: Okay...

Veronica: No more tears babe. I’ll beat his ass up if I have to. Just wait for my call okay?

Veronica: Love you too babes

Luna: Love you V

#sims 4 #sims 4 screenshots #black simblr #ts4 screenies #ts4 screenshots #ts4 simblr #ts4 stories #ts4 story #thereevesfamily #a small update while i get the next one ready the game was being such a bitch and work also fucking sucks

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cactus-cuddler · 8 months ago

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Peter Quill

TYPE OF BOYFRIEND

!femreader

◇ When he is angry with you he find to don't let it be noticed, he thinks is him the problem and he doesn't want to lose you. So when you try to apologise to him it would go like this:

"Babe I am sorry... I didn't mean to criticize your favorite song. I was wrong." you say with a slowly voice.

"No, you don't. I buy you some chocolate from Earth... human girls usually love it!" he says handing you a box of chocolates.

"It wasn't necessary... I know I made you angry. When Rocket criticized a song you loved, you said that you will remove him from your friends list if he hadn't apologized!" You tell him trying to get him to accept your apology.

"But Rocket is Rocket. You're my whole life." He says putting the box of chocolates down to take your hands.

"Do you think I should thank you after this?" says Rocket who was watching the whole scene. He had bet Drax that after your criticism he would leave you while Drax claimed that Peter would close his eyes.

"I deserve these!" Rocket says taking the box of chocolates. Peter tries to stop him but you hold him back and kiss him: "what have I done to deserve a boy like you?".

◇ he LOVES when you call him Star-lord. No one call him like this so when you use that nickname you remind him of his mom. The first time you call him Star-lord it probably went like this:

It was your first official date. Peter organized a romantic dinner for you (unsuccessfully, I mean... it is Peter in the end): he asked Groot to grow bright flowers in your favorite color, he made your favorite dish and he kidnapped your favorite singer from Earth to have a concert just for you (it was his sister's idea) and he lit some candles. He has never been more proud of himself when he saw your smile. But your smile turns into an angry face:

"Peter Quill you kidnapped a human!" and his answer made you less angry:

"Yeah, just for you my little one".

You had a quiet dinner while talking calmly when you were attacked by a monster.

"Where is our teammate?" you ask terrified and looking for your weapons.

"There is a little problem..."

meanwhile

"I am Groot"

"Yeah Groot, We really needed this holiday away from Peter"

"Where we are?"

"On Earth, idiot! You don't listen the plan? We must not make it clear that a human has been kidnapped"

"Are you saying that it's just us two here!?"

"It's an exaggeration to say that there's only us... there's the spaceship, the ground, the sky, a singer fainted from fear under the makeshift stage..."

You hid under the table because Peter is convinced that if you don't see the monster the monster won't see you. And that was it (you weren't expecting it actually) and he went away. You decided to go for a walk holding hands and while you watch the sunset you rest your head on his shoulder.

"I think I love you"

"I think I love too..."

"What do people say on these occasions?" he asks, looking you in the eyes.

"I love you my Star-lord" and then he kisses your lips.

"I love that name on your lips"

"Why do you love that name?" you ask with a smile and your lips are still close

"My mother used to call me with it" he says soflty and a tear falls on his cheek and you wipe it away.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to remind you..."

"I'm not crying from sadness, I'm happy because I found a beautiful and sweet girl just like her" after he kisses you again. This time for longer.

◇ He would almost never call you by your name (not that he has forgotten it of course... but just to be safe don't ask him). He uses cute nicknames for every occasion like:

sweetheart

Honey bun

Cutie pie

Pumpkin: only for Halloween

Bunny

Little one

At first it embarrassed you but as time went on you started to love them and maybe you could start using them for him too... who knows how he would react.

"My sweetheart can you please give me my shirt?"

"Yeah bu- how did you call me?" he says and his cheeks turn red with embarrassment and he starts to stutter.

"Sweetheart... you don't like it?"

"I love it but I'm the one with the nicknames!"

"I can't use it?"

"Of course you can,” he says chuckling "repeat it"

"Sweetheart?" his smile gets even bigger and he walks over to you and hugs you tightly.

"You'll make me die from too much sweetness one day."

Thanks to @aidansloth for correcting the bad mistakes I make! I'm not good at English so excuse me. I hope you enjoy them!♡

#peter quill #star lord #mcu #marvel #guardians of the galaxy #headcanon #lovers #one shot #boyfriend #gotg #gotg fanfiction #peter quill x reader #peter quill x you #marvel mcu #fanfic #fanfiction #rocket raccoon #groot #peter quill x y/n

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 2 years ago

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FINCH'S FRENZY (IV)

|| COV MASTERLIST || NEXT: CHAPTER V ||

PAIRING: Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick x F!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 8.7k

WARNINGS: Angst, blood, guns & shootings, canon typical, death, vulgar language, gore, arguments, self-destructive behavior, PTSD, fluff at the end? Maybe?

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

Vividly, you remember the first time your father brought you into the Museum. You’d only been little, then, no more than ten but old enough to form lasting memories that would stick with you. Key moments in the spanning woven tapestry that grew and spread like roots with colors named ‘Happy’ and ‘Sad.’ A memory bank of images that never leave the screen behind your eyes.

The statue had only been there because of the fire.

Made by men’s hands, it really wasn't the responsibility of a Museum of Natural History, but this was a special case. The other, sister, building to this one was far off into the city and had been completely ablaze not a week prior by unknown circumstances. Your father’s friend had burned, along with many priceless artifacts that were housed there. But not this.

The stone statue of the woman. Only here because it needed a place to rest before being sent out of state to a more… appropriate facility. They had flocked to her—marble scorched and covered in ash. Yet beautiful. Heavenly. Long arms reach up, a tiny bird held in the clutch of her stiff hands, presenting it to a far-off sky.

Cameras flash and eyes water.

“They’re calling her dīvīnā, Little One.” You had looked up at him, clutching onto your father’s shirt sleeve in wide innocence. He smiles softly.

“Di–” Your lips sputter and face heats, “Di-ven-a?” A small chuckle makes you huff, your expression souring. The man kneeled down, gripping under your pudgy chin and teasing.

“Not quite. Dee-veen-uh.”

“What does that mean?” You stubbornly shake your head, confused, “why are they calling her that?” A kiss is planted on the top of your head, your father standing back up and laughing, as you once more look at the statue with wonder. Your eyes glitter.

“It is Latin, my Little Love,” that stone bird in her lifeless hands has a broken wing, yet still she prompts it to fly; as if she knows it can even though it’s impossible. “Divine.”

To be loved like a woman in stone was a rare thing.

You’re not quite sure why you remember that when you turn a swift corner, slamming a shoulder into it as bitter tears track your cheeks. The bloody hand that steadies you leaves a trail of crimson behind as evidence. You don’t slow, not even when Gaz’s hat threatens to fly off your head at the break-neck pace you set yourself on.

“The park,” you breathe raggedly, frantic slams of your shoes bouncing off the corralling buildings at your side as you dart out of the tree line and into the city streets. If you had been focusing, you’d realize you have no idea where you are; utterly alone while the violent sounds of firing guns and screams continue to bounce off airwaves. Too close. Too loud. “Oh, God, the people.”

Cold couldn’t begin to describe your temperature. Frigid perhaps; shaking with frozen terror that makes you lose feeling in your limbs. Buggy eyes snap to shadows and trash in the alleyway like they were grabbing at you with phantom intentions.

You don’t know when you lost Kyle—when you’d taken a turn too fast and completely disappeared or something else along those lines. But in your chest, your stiff ribs almost welcomed the solitude. You had looked into his eyes. Stifling a loud sob, you increase the pace as the screams behind you loom over your head like a cloud.

Amber. Meadows. Deathly serious.

“No, no, no…” How had the attackers known you’d be out in the city? On campus? That white Sudan…How?

You miss the rapid calls of your name in the background, equally as desperate as your instincts. Loud and distinctly British. Separated by stone and mirky puddles. You increase your velocity; moving farther and farther away. Run, you just need to run. From everything. From everyone.

But when you rush one last corner, the large form that stands there isn’t a made-up phantom of the past. It isn’t a statue.

Skirting to an immediate stop, your legs quiver from the force and the dragging of your heels; your fingertips wrenching into your aggravated injury in retaliation. Gasping, your leaking eyes widen even farther at the covered face. The few feet of precious separation from the man that also surprised at the sudden arrival.

A dead second of slow-motion thoughts and nothingness that seems like a year ensues. Not a single atom bounces. Had he been waiting for you?

You slowly look down with white eyes to notice the assault rifle in his shifting hands; the nervousness of hips as they rotate weight into a form that would remind you of a football player if you bothered to engage with that thought. The air is stuck in your nose. Blood pressurizes itself forward. You swallow tersely, one shoe shifting to take a step back carefully. No words, no exchange of sentiments.

Only a target and a man holding a gun.

“I…” You trail, lips not responding as the rabid pulse in your ears threatens to drown you with blackness. At the click of a safety, you’re running like a rabbit again, darting back down the same way you came as bullets explode through the corner you rampage past.

“Gaz!” The call bounces to the sky, ringing off buildings. Was it possible to die from adrenaline? Everything burns a bright shade of red in the corner of your vision. Shouts ring from behind, a race of scarlet and duty now taking place with feral implications.

This was what being prey felt like, and you had thought you'd only have to experience that feeling once.

“Gaz!” You scream again, ripping vocal cords, and ducking as a round goes directly above your head, slapping your hands to the cap with gasping fear. How many were out there? Had they set a perimeter if you decided to run?

This was a level of professionalism you never expected from terrorists.

Sprinting past an open turn, a hand snags out, jerking you by the jacket collar as a second covers your mouth. Screaming, you bite down as your heart stops, mercilessly slashing out an elbow into hardened ribs. A sharp hiss meets your ear before the shadows of the inside of a doorway overhang swallow you.

Your back is slammed into the barrier, breath on your forehead as your hand snaps to the pen knife in your pocket like a whip. The shock of electricity down your spine is inconsequential to the hand that flies over your mouth. It tightens before your eyes can adjust properly through the tears; fingers flinching fast past layers of cotton canvas.

Lips dance over the shell of your ear. “Stop moving.”

The struggling of your limbs halts, eyebrows slightly losing the agonized furrow. Heat wafts from the body pressed into your own—great bouts of natural warmth that you hadn’t felt in years from another human being. Your heart skips for it; muscles lessen.

Goosebumps raise the hair on the back of your neck.

You blink rapidly, staring into the nose of Sergeant Garrick with a shuttering inhale behind his grip. Sensing your slowing pulse, his hand lowers, moving back immediately. Long fingers find his lips, signifying silence with nothing more than a tap and a frown. There’s still blood over his visage, splattering up his stubble and along his cheeks like paint as his jaw clenches with meaning.

Wheezing, you shake with both fear and a sliver of ease even as your back aches from the force that the Brit had exerted to drag you back. You swallow down saliva and nod a number of times; completely out of it.

You’re moved behind him with a firm push—a part of you flinches at the sudden chill that overtakes you once more—as the yelling gets closer from beyond your hidey-hole, a bulky thumping over the concrete ground like hail. You stare at Gaz’s neck as he grabs the pistol from his belt, leaning on the part of the wall that juts out with a single shoulder and barely peeking out.

He blinks slowly, not even looking at you as his lips thin. He looks merciless and loose at the same time.

The man sprints past, barely making it a few feet from where you watch with stilled breath before Kyle separates from the wall. One shot is all it takes, and the stranger doesn’t even scream before he hits the ground; a last round being driven between his skull plates to silence any sound.

It all falls silent after the reverberations cease—gunpowder in your nose and burning your throat. But it doesn’t even matter, because you’re already being forced along with a heavy hand on your shoulder before the blood can pool over the ground.

“C’mon.” He speaks blankly, whatever sly teasing and amusement from earlier today completely gone. “Exfil point is a block away—we need to move.”

You can’t do much more than follow, your head screaming at you.

“B-but what about…” Wanting to ask about the people who are back in the park, not quite understanding the horror yet.

Sensing this, Kyle knows it’s better to respond briefly.

“They’re dead.” You flinch at the truth, hearing the bitter reality settle in coupled with the man’s bluntness. Gaz sends a side-eye your way, looking down at you from his lashes.

While not willing to offer any comfort at the moment, he twitches his nose and simply states, “You need to stay focused,” while noticing the far-off look in your eyes; the rapid pulse under his grip.

Humming under his breath, he leads you on ever faster, knowledgeable of the quickly dwindling bullets in his mag. As you both speed walk, he speaks through his earpiece, telling Kit the streets before the far-away man replies with the correct route to the Exfil point.

“How’s the VIP?” Kit asks, and Kyle grunts, not giving anything more than a quick response.

“Alive. We’re nearly there.” He inhales slowly. “Multiple civilians down in the park.”

“Copy, 2-6. Keep en route.” Gaz scoffs under his breath, surveying his surroundings as the wails of sirens fly over buildings. This never should have happened.

This brought him back to Piccadilly Circus; the start of his entire counter with 141 and subsequent approval into their ranks. He’d seen many things over the course of his deployments to the Middle East—when he’d put a target on his back when disrupting Opium supply lines. He shouldn’t be here. He should be with his comrades.

Not with a girl that seems to want to put herself in every dangerous situation known to man.

Even with all the mental strain and uncomfortable scenarios he’d been in…watching innocent people die never got any easier.

He moves you along; muscles wound and gun in a tight grip. Gaz tries to tell himself that you couldn’t have possibly imagined this happening and with how you were acting that would be the truth with no doubt. He’d told you, though, hadn’t he? That’s what really gets his jaw stiff.

I told her. And she didn’t listen. Didn’t even try to think it over.

You shake under his grip, and a part of him feels pity, honestly, but right now the severity of the situation is more important.

“Take a left,” he utters, forcing you on with hardened brown eyes. You nod again, throat closed so tight you’re unsure if speaking is the right decision.

Everything is a mixture of hot and cold—fingers burning yet arms shaking from a lack of heat; teeth chattering.

The both of you were close now, only a few more winding turns left and the van should be waiting with the driver; authorities taking care of the shooters left in the park still searching for you. But these alleyways were like a rat’s maze.

“Keep close,” Kyle offers, “We don’t know who else is—”

“Right!” Your yell makes him turn sharply, knife barely grazing the flesh of his neck as he weaves. Brown eyes flair with anger, gun in his grip just as easily coming up to the armed assailant.

The covered face held no weapon besides a combat knife; another person intent on taking your life. How many were out here?

“What in the…?” Gaz grunts, but before he can bring the pistol up to pull the trigger, the man’s other hand is grabbing his wrist, twisting it to the side mercilessly and away.

The Brit hisses, throwing out his other arm to block the knife from once more coming down to settle in his neck. These people were many in number, but how was it that they were so rusty? Anyone with combat sense knew it was best to go low before going high when attacking with a knife. Before he can swipe the Bastard’s legs out from under him, locked in that familiar battle of wills, Gaz hopes in his head you don’t run off again.

Starting to gain the upper hand with gritted teeth and sparking eyes, there’s a swift thunking of metal meeting flesh moments later. Blinking wildly, Kyle’s face goes confused, slightly losing grip in that mere second of oddity.

Then he sees it.

“Bloody Christ.” Gaz gasps, gazing at his own reflection in the hilt of a small pen knife stuck in the eye of his attacker who subsequently begins screaming wildly, trying to back up until the Sergeant shakes out of his shock.

The gun levels with a chest, and it was done before the killer could rip the blade from his eye.

Only one bullet was fired until the small click of an empty barrel signaled that Kyle had used up his last round. The man falls into a heap and lays on the floor, a puddle of crimson leaking from his guts as he gasps and coughs.

Breathing heavily, there’s a pause in the air. Gaz looks back at you slowly, eyes wide with astonishment.

You stare back, right hand quivering and twice as bloody then it had been before. You had made a mirror slice on your palm by holding the blade and releasing it to hurdle forward loyally. Not that you knew that.

No words are exchanged as the gurgling from the body falls silent, only the air speaks in brushing breezes that ruffle your jacket.

“2-6,” Gaz’s earpiece speaks, but for a moment he’s stuck gazing into your eyes as you stare at the body, lips parted and jaw slackened. You’d just… “2-6, do you copy? Extraction is waiting for you.”

Brown eyes snap away, feet quickly shuffling to rip your penknife out from the socket and place it in his pants pocket. Later.

“On it, Actual. Keep ‘em ready—we’re coming in hot.”

“Rog. Laswell’s been informed, expect request for a full security unit comin’ the lady’s way.” Frowning, Kyle doesn’t respond, having to physically turn your body away from the scene and move you forward.

His X12 is slipped back into his belt, useless entirely.

“Love,” Gaz speaks to you, trying to see if you’d respond, but your eyes stay blankly ahead; tears frozen in time on your cheeks yet the hysteria is shown in the stumbling of your legs. The racing pulse under your skin makes the Brit concerned. A stiff sigh is released before a decision is made with creased eyes.

You’re being lifted with little warning, carried into a bridal hold as if you weighed no more than a piece of paper. You gasp briefly, sense coming back in a flash of a thrown knife and a wide brown gaze.

“H-hey!” The exclamation is met with a click of a tongue and increased footfalls, Kyle keeping you close to his chest with wind whipping past your ears. But you can’t think beyond the defining moments. The bodies in the park. The man you helped kill. Had killed.

You force down the bile in your throat as Gaz’s warm body encompasses you.

I didn’t…I didn’t do that, did I? You hadn’t thrown that blade. Couldn’t have. That would make you…

Your face tightens, brows creasing like tin foil.

The van was torn open with a loud bark of ‘get us the fuck out of here,’ and a dumping of you onto the back seat only three minutes later; you didn’t have the thought capacity along that short run to tell Gaz to keep his hands off of you, or to stop sending you those glances with his hidden thoughts. All you could do was try and keep back the flooding hysteria.

Kyle shoves himself into the car, slamming the door.

“Go!” He hits his fist on the back of the front seat and the driver peels out of the open alleyway with a screech of tires.

Breathing heavily, you blankly look outside to watch the rushing police cars and ambulances dart past in the opposite direction. The streets were so condensed with fleeing people that they were having a hard time getting through, the flickering flashes of red and blue lights trapped behind your eyelids even as you blink and shake your vision away.

Jesus, how many people are dead right now? How many were dying?

“Take us back to Base,” Gaz’s harsh accent drives a spike into your ribs. Focus on that. Focus on hating him. Don’t think about it. Don’t think about the knife.

You force out through a shaking diaphragm.

“Fuck no,” the air flips; driver sending a wide-eyed glance through the mirror as Kyle’s wound body stills like a flag on a stagnant day. You persuade a sneer to your lips.

Just make him angry. Make him yell at me—distract me. A vile form of self-destruction, sure, but you can’t start thinking about anything that just went down.

You know how it would go if you had time to process. How the first year went after your father met his fate. You’d…You’d…

The Sergeant’s tone comes out in a snarl, “What’s that?”

You’d never thought his file was true about that part. The hardheadedness and the opinionated side. When he was with you he always seemed level-headed; calm. Now though, it was like you didn’t have a grasp on his character like you thought you did.

In the driver’s seat, Private Clancy clears his throat and grips the wheel tighter, not sure where to go.

“You heard me,” he had, Gaz’s ears had twitched at the curse—vulgar language not common from your tongue. “Fuck. No.” Eyes hard on his knee, you glare through very obvious fear. Kyle stares with venom lacing his silver tongue, lungs inflating. “I’m going home.”

“Home?” The Sergeant asks immediately, the car taking a left turn quickly. “Oh, my apologies, then,” he shakes his head, “Do you mean the exact place you’d be ambushed? Perhaps giving yourself up would be more your speed, Ma’am. Private,” Gaz glares into the rearview mirror, “Base, now.”

“You do not get to dictate where I go, Garrick!” You scream, ripping his hat off your hair and pointing a finger with the same hand. A flash of amber replays in the back of your mind. Stop. Please, stop. “I am not going to the damn—!”

“People are dead!” Flinching, your shoulders hunch in faster than someone can blink, and brown eyes burn at you, jaw tight and teeth bared even as self-restraint tries to hold back a more poison-coated octave. The thin line between the two of you breaks. “Civilians!” You see Kyle take down a deep breath, his hands clenching. The next sentence is slow, but deep, “I don’t care what you bloody want because I’m not asking. I’m taking you in and getting a full Unit assigned.” Your heart freezes, lids going back in shock as sweat trails down your back. Gaz scoffs, turning away from you to run a hand over his hair. “Never should have agreed with Laswell and taken you on. I need to be with my team. You don’t listen!”

Opening and closing your mouth, you stutter for an answer.

“Take me home, Kyle,” your voice is breaking, but Gaz doesn’t even look in your direction; his lips firmly sealed as he glares at the headrest with his resting fist tapping periodically on his chin from the window-ledge. “Kyle.”

He shakes his head to himself, and in a fit of infectious rage, you chuck his cap directly at his skull with a strong arm.

“You fucking pathetic twat! I just goddamn killed someone trying to save your useless life!” You bare your teeth and feel your throat constrict, eyes red and holding back a weeping deluge. Kyle growls under his breath as the hard brim slaps his temple, snatching it back mid-air. But his snapping reply stills on his lips when he meets your gaze head-on. His breath halts for a brief moment, recognizing the dwindling sense of control. Your words give him pause, and he doesn’t think you realize you’re looking into his eyes again as you rage. “I should have let the bastard tear your throat open—at least he’d be getting to do what I’ve always wanted since the moment you put a fucking gun to my head! For leaving my family a mess of blood and pain! Do…do you expect me to be thankful? For what?! All of this is your fault! Don’t you dare try and put the blame on me.”

You’re sobbing, and the Sergeant watches silently, lips slightly parted as the driver gets more and more anxious. The car sputters along at a slow pace; everything relies on who wins this volatile battle. Brown eyes are stuck on the blatant brokenness of your gaze, for the first time able to study them without side-eyeing you or sneaking glances when you regard him by looking at his lips or nose.

He’d never seen eyes like yours.

Blame? He didn’t blame you. Not…not entirely. But he was angry at you.

“For the love of God, I will chuck myself out of this car and sprint home—I don’t give a shit if I get shot at, Garrick. You and your little Task Force can go and fuck yourselves. You left my father with a hole in his head; made my mother leave me in a decaying house all alone and expected me to be okay with seeing my dad slump dead and feeling his blood drip off my chin. That fucking house.” Hands weaving through your locks, you wrench your eyes shut and the connection is severed in an instant, Gaz blinking back to the car with an unsteady inhalation of breath. His body is as still as a stone statue, fingers twitching when you finish with, “Fuck!”

Foot stomping to the floor, you hunch forward, wailing in earnest as the blood on your hands makes you want to barf. Your head burns. Your throat aches. Everything felt like you were being rocked back and forth on a violent wave of self-loathing and hatred.

“Stop it,” you rest your head between your knees, mouth open with desperate pants of air, “Fuck, p-please just stop it.”

No one knows what you’re referring to.

The car had parked a while ago—sitting in the parking lot far away from the park. Once a moment has passed, the Private only taps the wheel in the strangled moment of relative silence, and asks above your wet sobs, “Sir, I…Where are we going?”

Kyle stares at you, opening his mouth to speak before it freezes and falls back shut. He swallows down the saliva in his throat before licking his lips, not looking at his cap before numbly putting it over his head with two hands.

“...Mansion.” The tires peel out slowly.

You don’t hear anything above the ringing in your ears; see above the red curtain settling. All you breathe down is death, and all you can think about is what went wrong.

“It is Latin, my Little Love,” that stone bird in her lifeless hands has a broken wing, yet still she prompts it to fly; as if she knows it can even though it’s impossible. “Divine.”

Your nails dig into your scalp harder, lips trying to strangle back sounds of a breaking mind. But you can feel his eyes on you as your face burns, digging deep when ruffling fabric makes you tense.

Everything is so loud—too bright. You can’t focus on calming down…you…you need to—

A bomber jacket settles over your head, the sides draping down to your ankles as you blink back with panic. You’re about to scream before you realize where you are.

Park. Car. Gaz.

The penknife.

Darkness surrounds you, and body heat suggests someone sits close. On the ground, you see a combat boot peak in from the makeshift shroud, shifting from time to time with unease and an inability to stay still. A blessing and a curse. Your bursting lungs begin to slow as you take count of the laces, studying the color and the shine. Letting the calming low-light seep right into your brain as your fingertips loosen.

A throat lightly clears, and they tense again.

“We…we’re nearly back, Ma’am.” You don’t answer. Gaz sighs quietly under his breath, pressing to the earpiece sitting in his canal. “Actual, change of plans. I need a full Unit to sweep the entire VIP’s property—we’re heading back now.”

“I don’t think Laswell will go for that, 2-6.” Kyle peeks at your hidden form—the way you shake so violently he was afraid you’d shatter like glass. He thinks about what you said, not able to peel his eyes away. Even as he tries to force it down, his heart hurts.

“Do it. I’m not takin’ her to Base.” The Sergeant tits his head down, hand clenched. “It’ll make this worse than it already is.”

“...Rog. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Copy, Mate. Keep me updated, yeah?”

Gaz thinks back to the alleyway and the penknife in his pocket feels heavier than stone. He hadn’t needed help. That wasn’t pride, that was just a fact. The Brit wasn’t as large as Soap—certainly not Ghost—though he was still well above average for what a regular workout would give you. Even if he did value integrity far better than brute strength he wasn’t like a dull blade.

He’d had it under control.

So why had you done that? Even you had expressed confusion over the action. For all intensive purposes, you should have wanted the terrorist to win. It seemed like you did.

“Hell,” Kyle whispers, bushing off the dried blood on his cheeks with the back of his hand as the city falls away to a slower-paced town. The adrenaline was wearing off, and the internal guilt was beginning to form.

He hadn’t meant to yell.

It had been a while since he’d worked Protection, had forgotten how much he should regulate his emotions. Gaz was used to strong bands of brothers—tight-knit groups that went in like a shadow and left with nothing but a whisper. That was One-Four-One; his brothers.

But…brown eyes slowly rove to stare. Listening to the struggling breath like an animal being choked by a collar.

You’d already gone through so much, and although he could grab you by the arm and shake with all his might, it wouldn’t change the fact that you didn’t know how this worked.

He needed to keep his gentle approach, not force you back into the hole you were intent on keeping in. Gaz needed to fix this. Tell you. Show you.

He’d do it tonight and if his honesty didn’t work even a smidge then he’d send in his offer for re-assignment. He’d made a mistake, and he was never one to let that stand.

By the time the van was pulling into the iron gate, held open by a black-clothed soldier, the property was already swept and cleared. Gaz opens his door and steps out, leaving it open on the off chance you would follow him. You didn’t, of course.

“Sergeant,” the man’s face was covered with a balaclava, large of shoulders and chest. A hand is presented, and Kyle takes it with a soft greeting.

“How’s it looking?”

“Everything’s in order, Sir. Laswell took the time to set us up back in town,” there’s a glance sent your way, and Kyle restrains himself from sidestepping and blocking the man’s view. His instincts were still rampant and he shifted his legs restlessly. “Figured the Lady wouldn’t be too keen on letting us stay here—can’t do anything without the inheritor's permission.”

Gaz blinks at that but only adds it to his databank. He knew you had control over who you allowed on the property, but hadn’t known you were the inheritor.

Why hadn’t the estate gone to the wife?

“Good to hear,” Kyle smiles slightly, tapping the side of his fist with the soldiers. “I can take it from here, yeah? See to it your men are comfortable and keep the radio up—we don’t know what else might be going on.”

“Copy, Sir.” When Gaz switches weight, looking into the interior of the car he’s already addressing you with a calm demeanor; ready to coax you out with a good chunk of his gut filled with apprehension.

“Love…can you—” The car was empty, and before Kyle could begin to snap to attention, the black of his bomber jacket slashes his wide vision. A deep sigh falls after a second of exasperation, sarcasm about to be called over the air. Hands rub over eyes before itching at his cheek with a muttered, “Keep it light, Garrick. Sky’s not falling just yet.”

He follows, concern growing steadily.

You had killed a man. Lived through your first shootout. How was he supposed to make this work? You already hated him…what could he say?

Gaz knew for a fact that it hadn’t fully hit you yet, and when it did, he was afraid you would break apart even more. But why was he so conflicted about staying or leaving?

Your feet carry you to the house quickly, head down and extra jacket over your shoulders that you don’t bother to flick off. Shoving past leaving soldiers that give you stiff looks as you pass makes your lungs hitch. You didn’t want them on your property—you didn’t know them.

“Love!” Kyle calls your name from behind, and you hear his jogging feet catching up as your fast-snapping eyes find the black void in the bushes.

The cat.

Green eyes brush against your, slitted pupils corralled by overgrown foliage. It blinks slowly, and you force your head forward once more; un-cut hand snapping to your mouth to keep down the frantic way your lungs jump.

Doors were of no obstacle to you, you shove through them with a hunched shoulder, letting it swing open and hit the wall with a defining bang of oak.

“Hey! Slow down, would you?” Ripping your shoes off, you speed across the foyer, heart distressed. Before long your body points you down the hallway.

Gaz rushes after, heart beating fast as your form disappears down a sharp corner that he grabs to swing himself past.

The black of his bomber jacket is a temporary sight before the barrier of a door slams shut, swallowing you whole.

“I need to…!” Kyle halts to a quick stop, arms at his sides as his button-up stays rolled up at his elbows. Brown eyes close tightly.

“...Apologize.” He places a hand on his head, tilting back his neck, “Shit.”

—

By the time you realized you weren't in your room, it had already been too late to turn back around.

You gradually come back into reality after a fitful anxiety-induced fatigue on your father’s office couch. Hours had passed, judging by the pitch darkness of the room; the temperature was already colder than you usually were used to.

Eyes stare at the ceiling for what seems like an eternity, and it’s sad to think the only time that everything in your head calms down is when you can listen to the pipes in the walls. Creaking wood. Forcing yourself up, you hiss sharply, lids wrenching shut at the zinging pain up your right arm.

Ripping your hand up, you blink rapidly through the achiness of your red eyes to stare down at the dried wounds. The twin gashes across your palm crack as you flex your fingers, crimson lines opening. Even as your sigh builds, you only watch them begin to bleed at the movement; not relaxing your muscles for the single purpose of not caring enough to.

The skin was agitated. Itchy as well.

I sent a knife into a man’s eye. You still, lips parted and numb. I watched people die one after the other because I went outside. This is…this is my fault.

Kyle had been right. You don’t listen. You’re stubborn, vengeful.

“But I can’t be anything else.” Whispers bounce off the walls; the coffee table ahead of you and the gargantuan desk behind where you’d play hide and seek in the gaps.

You’d run to your father's office to try and find comfort you know you’d find nowhere else. Pull it from memories considering it was all you had left.

But you can’t pull comfort for this. Part of you wants to put on the news—know the count of the dead. The other part says that would be worse.

“Because of me.” You mumble, standing on unsteady legs that threaten to buckle. Your body is sore from all the running; fleeing from bullets.

No, not because of you.

Sucking in a slow breath and listening to the creaking of the house, the ghosts, you clear your throat to dispel the mucus.

Because of your father. Mind racing, this event puts a hammer into the stained glass that was your family legacy. Before you could deny it—you could say it was Samson Row that was judge, jury, and executioner; while that was still true, what kind of people would fire on innocent bystanders to try and nail a single target?

Turning, you think back to Laswell as your tongue licks at the dryness of your lips and your eyes move to attempt and paint a picture. You stop to look at the desk.

“Your father had sensitive information that searches of his shipping lot and museum office didn’t offer any leads on. While you’re spending more time at your home, I want you to look for them. Anything that involves other dealers or a location to a hub.”

Taking down a slow breath, the walls were suddenly suffocating you. Your father didn’t…he…he couldn’t have.

Your right hand pulses mockingly.

Without knowing, your feet pad over the floor to his desk quietly, standing behind the chair and over the dust-hidden mahogany. The old lamp on the corner; the strewn papers that have faded ink and old script haunt you as you slide your vision over them.

Museum exhibits that never got installed, bank statements, and more important documents pertaining to his job. You skim over them, bloody fingers leaving streaks in their delirious acts.

Feeling the fiber under your flesh, you push them aside one by one.

Nothing of interest.

Your throat closes for no reason, skin goes slick with perspiration dribbling down your brow. Nothing, see.

Blood drops down to the table as you hold your hand over it, loose and limp at the wrist but violently quivering. You watch. And then you start to open the drawers with a heated fervor, wiping at your forehead and leaving streaks of crimson.

“There’s nothing.” You gasp. “Nothing. They’re dead because of nothing. I killed a man for nothing.”

Guns fire in your mind; people scream like you had when sitting in that chair in a basement. Gaz’s eyes boring into you. You’d looked into his eyes not once but twice—the second of your own volition.

“Nothing?!” Folders are grabbed and slammed to the desktop, exploding with a poof of dust that leaves you turning and sneezing violently before you stifle yourself.

You’re ripping them open one after the other, burning in the back of your nose. A knife keeps releasing from your hand. A shove on your shoulder as a bullet hits a trash can that was used for cover.

The black bomber jacket that had fallen off in your slumber and was now sitting in a heap on the floor.

Innocent people.

Fuck, they were screaming at you.

“There can’t be nothing.” You seethe, trepidation both your drug and your double-edged sword…what if you did find something? “There needs to—”

“Love…?” Air silences. “Are you alright in there?”

There’s a shadow under the door, barely discernible over the darkness as you shiver. How long had he been there? How…how long had you been in here?

Your fingers stop their aggressive tossing and you blink through the dizziness of your brain. Stumbling back a step or two, your hip bumps into the chair. Instantly, the large thing skids over the floor with its wooden legs as an ear-ringing screech as you grab onto the arm to stop from falling. Your skull pounded.

Quick, loud, knocking starts.

“Ma’am? Ma’am!” Breathing quickly, your body shakes at the noise, the sound so similar to the sounds in the park.

“S—,” your voice breaks, “Stop fucking knocking!”

It stops instantly, and you pause there for more than a few moments glaring at the floor; brows tight and teeth biting into your lip. The quiet sound of a hesitant voice echoes after a minute.

“Could you open the door for me?” Gaz clears his throat as you stare at the wooden barrier with glinting eyes. An attempt at a kind chuckle. “...Been getting cramps in my neck from leanin’ back against the wall all night. And I, uh,” you close your eyes, “I think we need to have a conversation, Love. A real one, if you follow me.”

You were tired, incomparably so, but even you knew he was right. What he had yelled at you in the car was true. All of this had gotten put into place with as much consideration as a mallet gives a nail.

And Kyle had known all along what would come of it. A sliver of guilt stabs you.

You didn’t have to like him—didn’t have to forgive him, because you probably never would—but you had to begin to listen. That didn’t mean stop pushing back, it just meant that his expertise was needed for the safety of the city as a whole.

The city with the museum that your father had loved dearly.

Feet shuffling, you move around the desk, side-eyeing the now bloody contents atop with a numb expression as you move to the door. You had locked it, apparently.

Not that you remember.

Hand stuttering above the handle, you stop and listen with straining ears. A shifting body calls to the Sergeant’s anxiousness at your non-visibility. The erratic behavior. Resting your forehead over the wood, you truly wonder if there would ever be a time you were used to someone else living in this house.

This house. Your house.

It didn’t feel right for anyone to live here.

“Are you there, Ma’am?” You open the door stiffly.

Kyle’s face is tense, you can tell just by looking at his chin; how he holds his shoulder back like that. There’s a split-second where you both study each other—you, noticing how he’s still just as dirty as you, and him, seeing the focal point of the streak of red blood on your forehead.

“What, Garrick,” you speak as he sees the ruffled nature of your clothes. Defeated muscles. “Here to tell me you were right?”

His legs cease their movements, mouth half-open with apologizing sentiments now snapping shut with a click of teeth. But not from anger. Concern. Why were you bleeding? Had he missed you being injured? Kyle had sworn you were alright—no shots had ever met their mark.

He’s touching you before he remembers to ask first.

You’re being swept back into the room and plopped down on the couch with no warning, and you don’t fight it. Warm hands grip your shoulders and squeeze quickly.

“Bloody hell,” Gaz rushes to the desk to flick on the lamp, “Why didn’t you tell me you were hit?!” Your eyes snap shut, blinking rapidly at the light.

Rays cascade over the room, the dust in the air being sent into dance classes with how they flew. Lids narrowed at the floor, your socked feet shift over the old rug, but you offered no answer over a soft shrug of your shoulders.

Kyle gawks at the back of your head, rushing back over to check you over as he bends on one knee. Hesitating for only a moment, he first looks at your head, tilting it back and forth with a hand under your chin and the other by your ear. You’re cold under his grip and that makes him even more nervous.

How much blood had you lost?

“I need you to tell me where it—”

“Hand.” He blinks, staring at you for a second with surprise. Gazing down he sees the spasming limb with a small inhalation of air.

You let him slowly move back, all digits moving to encompass the afflicted area. But he pauses.

Frowning, you rub the side of your face into your shoulder as you hear the man suck down a sigh. Confusion lingers in your heart, but you care little at the moment.

“May I?” In between the brief palpitations of your most important muscle, you forget for a second who’s in front of you. You forget the Sergeant. The Brit.

Your face softens.

When had someone last asked you that?

Your lids slide open and closed in surprise as Kyle waits, outwardly patient with an internal raging heart.

“You’re already here, aren’t you?” The room is bathed in warm light and quiet creaking. Two people who don’t know how to act around one another suddenly suffocated with too many words. So they say nothing.

Kyle grips your hand so softly that you have to hold your breath in order to keep sane. You want to rip it back from how warm he is.

“Christ, Love, you’re freezing.” It’s a low comment, passing more for a whisper as brown eyes snap up to you. But slowly he shifts your flesh with the dig of his firm fingers, running over the bone to check for internal damage until he flips it over entirely to see the real problem area.

He holds in a sharp gasp. Tries to keep his cool as you stare at his bobbing neck.

“That…this’ll need stitches.” You hum. Gaze sliding to his face you say what first comes to mind as you draw a comparison to his twin scratches. You end up wondering if you’re drunk again.

“We match.” you point casually to Kyle’s left cheek. His were smaller than yours, of course.

Gaz focuses on your eyes even as you choose not to look at him directly.

“Yes, Ma’am.” He attempts a weak chuckle, still holding your hands with the hope that you might take some of his heat for your own. Why were you so cold? “I suppose we do. Why don’t you come with me and I can get you all cared for, yeah?”

You weren’t acting right, and for an instant, the Sergeant misses your snarky attitude. Anything was better than that bitter nothingness living in your expression. He was shocked. The woman who he’d had this iron impression of was using a chisel on it every instant she could.

It only made him feel more and more like a prick.

Fucking hell, Garrick. This is a whole different game.

“How’d you get them, then?” You were in shock, speaking whatever came to mind with a far-off stare dunked in alarm. Kyle had seen it all before and it didn’t matter who it was plastered on. It was his duty to help.

“Tell you what, Ma’am,” he stands, helping you up by the arm and sending a soft smile your way. “We’ll get you all proper again, and I’ll tell you all about my days in the police force. I wager you’d like that. History and all.”

“I like old history,” leading you out the door with a hand over your back that rubs small circles, he traverses the darkness and leads you to the shining light of his room one step at a time.

He sends an amused glance, “That’s my old history. Pretty good, too, in my opinion.”

You shiver again, and Kyle draws you a little closer, frowning tight. Your eye bore into the ground with cold sweat on your temple. He moves for a second to wipe it away but stops himself with a tight closing of his lids.

“Why would I care about that?”

“You just asked me, Love.” He reminds softly, turning the corner slowly as the two of your feet make the floorboards scream. This house was never quiet was it?

“Humph,” your sound bounces off the walls when Gaz makes it to his chosen room, the door already open and the light on.

He moves you to the cleanly made bed and lets you sit down while he walks to one of his bags by the wardrobe. A medical kit is pulled out, yet he keeps sending looks behind him to stare at you.

Legs hanging off the bed, you can’t really tell if you’re here or if this is some strange point between delirium. For certain, though, you don’t feel good.

Bleeding like a stuck pig and trying to keep your vomit down. It was all a state of far off sea-water. A roaring of waves in the back of your head. But there was a realization as Gaz shifts in front of you once more, face creased.

It is the realization that no matter what you do or what you try and change, you will always just be this. Stuck; stationary. Left to waste like the mansion itself—breaking down year after year until all that’s left is rotting wood and shattered stone. Blades of grass in the cracks and termites with fat bellies. But what was even worse was that you didn’t know how to function without this decay in your skin. The quiet rage pulled down beams of sanity. The agony a network of scuffed floors and dented walls. Shut curtains. Abandoned rooms and memories that shutter with every gust of wind. Ghosts in the hallways.

Was it all real, or was it just a pigheaded attempt to find something to relate to? There was truth to it—there had to be.

This was home.

This was you.

This would always be you.

“You asked how I got my scars,” Kyle speaks and you notice his hand back in yours, skin tingling not from the medicated wipe he runs over your palm like a feather, but rather from the sensation of touch.

Warm. It was a blanket of pure silk. A stuffed animal set into the dryer. How had you ever forgotten what that felt like?

You hum an acknowledgment, flinching when the chemicals start to turn your hand numb. Gaz lightly shushes you, squeezing your wrist.

For some reason, your nose starts burning at the action.

“It’ll be okay, Sweetheart.” He stands, grabbing a chair from the corner table and bringing it over to place in front of your knees. The medical bag is placed beside you, various contents being taken out as elastic gloves are pulled over long fingers. “Where should I start then,” Kyle stares at your sad-tilted eyebrows. “The moment it happened or how I put myself into that bloody stupid situation?”

“Situation?” You utter, scoffing without venom, “Sounds pretty serious there, Sergeant.”

“Oh, trust me it was,” the way he places your hand in his lap is deeply intimate, disgustingly so, but even as you want to rage and shove him off, it hurts to think too deeply. “Terribly serious—I was undercover, y’know.”

His soft expression holds you as the first stitch pierces your flesh. Pressure, no more. You frown, rubbing your eyes with your free limb. He pauses and glances your way, finding no pain, he continues on with the second, deft hold creating perfect knots.

“Ever done that, then? All your snooping around, I wouldn’t be surprised.” A smirk comes and goes on your lips. “Certainly seem the type, if you don’t mind me saying.”

“Can’t say I have.”

“Hm, well,” he chuckles. “Anyways, you see, it was a drug bust during my third year with the Blue. Opium. Sizable Mates running that whole operation. They found me out two bloody weeks in.” You blink to slight surprise, shoulders losing their hunch as you now have something else to draw your attention to. “Hoped to at least last a month, to be honest with you.”

“You’re insane.”

“Ah, probably, Ma’am.” Taking notice of the blood staining Gaz’s cap from earlier today when it was on your head, you bite your lip as the story continues. “I was held up in a shipping crate for a whole damn week, and this one fellow,” Kyle moves one hand up and your vision snaps to it, seeing him motion to his chin with a ‘U’ shaped hold, “proper beard on him, tells me I need to give up who I was.”

“...Did you?” Lip quirking, the Sergeant finishes off the first row of sutures, grabbing another wipe and cleaning the area. He was happy you were focusing, at least, but you were still too shaky for his liking.

“Hell no—Bastard sucker-punched me. Happened to have a nice ring on his finger. Can only pray for whoever was married to the bloke. Ripped my cheek open something nasty, enough to make it scar over.” Both of you are surprised by the huff of laughter that jerks your chest.

A pause as Kyle feels his chest go loose. That wasn’t a bad sound at all.

“Well, that’s it,” Gaz admits softly, halfway done with the second, smaller cut, “can’t say it’s all too amazing.”

“Because getting tortured by drug lords isn’t what you consider amazing, apparently.” You cough through your embarrassment, feeling slightly back to normal. Taking down a deep breath, you stare down at your palm as it gets sewn back together again. Hearing how the skin squelches.

“Well,” the Brit holds you delicately, a swelling of pride in his chest, “I’ve done a few bigger things than busting the likes of them. Stuff that meant a great deal more in the moment.”

The rest of the sutures and cleaning is done in total silence, and your lungs are suddenly able to work properly again. Kyle places a thick gauze pad atop the marks, holding it down while taking a roll of bandages; beginning to unravel them.

His thumb is holding the end down when he whispers.

“Why didn’t you want my help?” You ran from him in the park—hid away when you were injured. None of his teammates would do that.

She’s not them.

With a skip to your pulse, you hold your lips shut with an iron rod. That was the question, wasn’t it? You had run from the only person in the world that seemed to care whether you lived or died.

Peering at your palm, you speak the only truth you know, “Because then I’d have to admit something was wrong.”

There are more things you want to say to him—horrible things; pleas and nonsense—but in the end you just turn to stare at his neck with blood on your hand and stitches stuck in your flesh.

Kyle’s eyebrows peel up, holding your hand in his own and suddenly more in tune with you than he ever had been before.

“I…” He starts but doesn’t finish. Not for a long while. “I’m sorry, Love. For all of it. But you need to start listening to the things that I tell you—I’m here to keep you alive. It’s my first and my only priority. You need to be able to live with that.”

He wasn’t sure there was more he could say. Your lips pull in, pressure living in your chest like an infection.

“I hate you,” you say, eyes watering. Blood on your forehead.

“I know,” he responds, slowly, softly; wishing for a moment you’d look into his eyes again so you’d realize he’s finally starting to understand.

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