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misschifuyu · 3 years ago

Text

To choose a lover

requested here

characters: ran haitani + rindou haitani

genre: fluff

warnings: none

Giggles and whispering comments were passed around, giddiness present in the voices that spoke out just a few metres away from you.

As much as you tried to focus on the tiresome work that was splayed out on the piece of paper before you, it was completely futile to drown the girls out.

It didn't take a genius to know what they were talking about. The school you were all under had the privilege - if one could even consider it as such - to hold two infamous students.

The Haitani brothers.

Whilst the eldest was in his final year, the younger still had another year under this roof until he followed in his brother's footsteps.

But there was really nothing to dislike about going to class when one had a literal fan group who's main topic was always them.

There were girls who preferred Ran, with his signature braids that they always wished they could undo for him; and others that would always fawn over Rindou's cocky ways and stubbornness, trying to catch his attention wherever he went.

The current conversation, however, wasn't just fixed on talking about their aspects.

Far from it. Sending each other questionable looks and making fun of those on the other side of the opinion, they were discussing who, out of the two brothers, was better.

Those on Ran's side had the advantage of saying that he was older, therefore more responsible and willing to take care of anyone.

Sure.

He would make the perfect husband, some were proclaiming. But...the youngest would always want to show that he is the strongest, the more dependable one, as a result of the inferiority that had always hung with him since they were young.

It wasn't that he was, he just hadn't pushed himself to be known as much as his brother had done all those years back.

Needless to say, it was an argument that would never see an end. At least not until the two left the school behind and continued up to wherever the future would take them.

It was amusing, from your point of view, to hear all of these discussions. For years now you had known the two, as close friends who had grown up on the same street, so you knew everything that there was to them, right down to what they actually did when they said they were studying.

Definitely something that the girls would be pushed back by if they ever found out.

But, if it really came down to it, you probably wouldn't be able to pick one out of the pack that they came in, either.

They both had their merits and faults, and, truth be told, neither of the two were that much of a pleasure to be around with, as much as their fans would beg to differ.

One thing was for sure, though. It had come into the light when the three of you had been hanging out one afternoon, without much else to do.

You had asked the youngest about what he thought about his notorious lower level when it came to comparing him with his brother.

It had simply been a spur of the moment, and you hadn't expected him to actually give a sorrowful response.

He was well aware that he was viewed as the weaker brother of the two, and as much as he'd try to prove otherwise, it had always been something that would eat away at him.

Naturally, both you and Ran had jumped to convince him that he was far from a weak person.

The fact that he was viewed as such meant nothing at all when it came down to the reality of what he was, and that there was no point in even listening to those ignorant - and frankly, irrelevant - opinions about himself.

At the end of the day, although you would never openly admit it near the oblivious fangirls, you held a considerable amount of affection towards the two of them.

Of course, they had their odd moments in which you only wished to hit them around the head with Ran's metal bar; but, all in all, they would always be your childhood friends.

So choosing between them was simply out of the question.

Both of them held an equal importance to you, so when a peculiar feeling started growing for one of them, you quickly averted it so it would be felt for the two, whatever it were to be.

They were two peas in a pod, and you weren't about to change this because of a measly crush.

However, the thought would only bug you more whenever you were all together. Such as the current situation, sat right between the two of them on the comfort of their couch.

Before even coming over, you had mentally ordered yourself to disregard the ridiculous thoughts that had flooded your mind.

The girls back at school hadn't help with the problem one bit, if anything they worsened the conflictive feelings; and now you were to spend the afternoon with the two.

One could only think that all odds were against them in such situations.

Head resting on Ran's shoulder, legs atop Rindou's, your eyes were fixed onto the screen before you. The reasoning behind spending the afternoon together was the airing of your favourite show.

However, you were now racking your brains over what you were supposed to do after the series ended. Watching a movie was the prime option, but you figured they would want to move from the couch and do something else.

And the two were very talkative, so you would have to, inevitably, push everything in your mind aside to prevent from even giving the smallest hint surrounding your thoughts.

Your stiffness didn't go unnoticed, and, soon enough, you felt a hand on your leg, startling you in an instant.

"What the hell is up with you today, Y/N?"

Rindou had lost all attention for what was playing on the screen, and it looked to be as though he had for a bit now. This meant he had felt your change of attitude well before he had actually asked about it.

"What? No, nothing...why?"

Knitting his eyebrows together, the blond looked over at you with a disbelieving stare. By now, you were sure Ran had shifted his interest towards the two of you.

"You've been all skittish since you got here. You got something important on your mind or what?"

Geez.

"No...I've just been thinking about something stupid, that's all. Don't worry about it, now let me watch th-"

"That being?"

Now you were cornered. From behind you, having turned to look at Rindou, a voice spoke out the question. In slight panic, you managed to come up with another way around it.

"Well...that, let's say, if I had to choose one out of the two of you, I wouldn't know who I'd pick. It's a silly question one of my friends asked today, that's all"

God bless the fan girls. You were sure to never judge them internally again, because they might have just saved your skin in the nick of time.

Your nerves calmed down as you heard Rindou chuckle at the concern, and you figured he'd just brush it off as another one of your peculiar inquiries.

However, as he fully turned towards you, it was clear that he wasn't about to let this go unfazed.

"Well, you can't just leave us like that without an answer. Go on then, if it was a life or death situation, who would it be?"

"Rindou...you know I'd get rid of both of you if I could"

You all laughed at your words, stirring the conversation into an area that you were certain you could get a hold of.

Each one of you was just as ridiculous as the next one, so it wasn't hard to divert difficult topics.

If only the youngest wasn't so damn pushy.

"On a real note, there's gotta be one of us that you like just a little more, Y/N"

Upon knowing that perhaps you had driven yourself into a dead end, you started to fumble with your fingers.

What the hell were you supposed to say? If you picked one, the other was surely to get the wrong idea.

"Um..."

A slight shift behind you made you turn your head, catching Ran just a little too close for comfort to your face. Great, just what you needed.

After a few, nerve racking, seconds in silence, it was the eldest of the two that decided to break the ice. You were all just wasting time there, after all.

"Listen...since my brother seems incapable of forming a decent sentence, what we've been trying to get at is which one you'd choose, because we've both liked you for some time now and we kinda need to know who you'd go out with"

Well.

Certainly an unexpected turn to your seemingly uneventful afternoon. It appeared that you weren't the only one struggling with the damned feeling that was a crush, but you hadn't gambled that it would be both of them...and for the same person.

You couldn't choose.

In the same way that you had to waver the feeling of more than just friendship between the two of them, there was no way you could pick one now.

It would be unfair for the other, especially since you would only be lying to yourself for saying that you felt nothing for the half that was left aside.

There was only one way out of this, unless you wanted to shatter the relationship you had built between them for the past years.

"I...both of you. I can't leave one of you out when I, well, like both of you"

A huge weight was lifted from your body the moment the brothers exchanged a look, followed by an agreeing nod. Far from the catastrophe you had gambled with, that much was sure.

As Ran leaned his head on your shoulder, Rindou gave you a bright smile, one that not everyone had the chance to say that they've seen.

"Wasn't so hard to say, now was it?"

No. What was going to be hard was having not one Haitani by your side, but two, as a partner. Sure enough, you were really going to know what their poor mother had to put up with now.

#tokyo revengers #tokyo manji revengers #tokyo revengers ran #ran haitani #tokyo revengers rindou #rindou haitani #tokyo revengers x reader #ran x reader #rindou x reader #fluff

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outercrasis · 3 years ago

Text

Sessions

Pairing: College!Din Djarin x F!Reader

Rating: Mature (18+)

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: References to sex, masturbation (nothing actually occurs)

Summary: After meeting Mando, you just can’t seem to get him out of your head. (events directly follow Introductions)

A/N: Thanks for the kind reception to the first post of this AU! I’ll be making a masterlist soon for easier navigation :) Let me know if you’d like to be tagged in future posts or if I’ve missed a warning.

Series Masterlist // Main Masterlist

Lingering Impressions

Your day ended up being an exhausting one. Mando had been your most exciting session for more reasons than just the obvious. You'd reviewed the papers of two freshmen, a junior who wanted you to basically write their paper for them, and another graduate student who disregarded every suggestion you made. Needless to say, Mando's gratitude felt extra special after all of that.

Getting home, you're greeted with the welcome smell of something delicious coming from the kitchen as you throw yourself face-first into the couch. The open floorplan of your tiny two bedroom apartment allows Layla to spot you as you wander in.

"Hello to you too!" she calls over. "I'm making chicken marsala."

You lift your head up from the watermelon-shaped throw pillow to smile at her. "You are a saint and I don't deserve you."

"You totally don't," Layla teases back, happily returning to the stove. You flip over on the couch, mindlessly scrolling through your phone while she finishes making dinner. A comfortable silence fills the room, interrupted only by Layla's hums and the discordant sounds of cooking.

Layla has been your roommate since your sophomore year of college, randomly paired together by the dorm sorting system and inseparable ever since. The two of you clicked, a friendship forged over the awkwardness of early adulthood and a shared love of terrible reality TV. Both of you keep busy schedules while pursuing your respective master’s degrees and help each other out where you can. Making dinners for each other is just a part of that.

It’s not long before Layla brings over two steaming plates of food to lay out on your thrifted coffee table. She sits opposite you, preferring to sit on the floor rather than the couch. You’re eager to dig in, groaning at the first bite.

“I’ll take that as a thank you,” Layla grins, tucking into her own meal.

“God yes.”

“Long day then?”

You groan again, this time in irritation rather than pleasure. “Yes. I don’t know how many more know-it-all grad students I can deal with.”

She’s heard all about your nightmare sessions with students that think they already know everything. You’ve questioned more than once why they bother booking the session if they're just going to ignore your advice and decide their paper is perfect as is. It seems like a total waste of time for both you and them.

Layla sympathizes and shares her own gripes about some of the assholes she's forced to put up with while working on her research project. After all, no group project is complete without the one person who does nothing but acts like they know everything. Giving each other time to vent another small way the two of you take care of each other.

As you think back on your day and sessions your mind inevitably drifts to Mando. He hadn’t been anything like you’d expected. He was kind in his own way and by far the most amenable session you’d had all day. Not taking off the helmet was odd, as was not giving out his real name, but neither of those had really bothered you when it came down to it. If anything, they only serve to fascinate you further.

“Did something else happen today?” Layla asks, a spark lighting up in her eyes. She can always read you, something that can be either a blessing or a curse depending on what it is you're hiding. You take a few more bites before answering, already anticipating her reaction.

“Well I might have also met Mando today,” You try to throw it out there casually, hoping that if you treat it as though it’s not a big deal she’ll follow your lead. You should have known better.

“You what!? Tell me everything,” Layla screeches at you from across the coffee table. She pushes her food off to the side, clearly deciding that your unexpected meeting with campus's resident celebrity is far more important.

"He came in for a session. His paper was really good, it-"

Layla is quick to cut you off. "I literally couldn't care less about that and you know it. Tell me about him, what's he like? Is he terrifying?"

You can’t help but snort at that. You know why she asked of course - the rumors flying around about him getting out of hand these days - but when you think about him now they all seem ludicrous. The gentle way he spoke to Grogu and offered his hand out to the kid before leaving. The sincerity in his voice as he spoke to you, eager to hear any advice you had to give him. No. Mando was decidedly not terrifying. “He’s… just a guy,” you tell her, not really sure how to explain his unique presence.

The eyeroll you receive in response is warranted. “Are you kidding me right now? You probably know more about him than anyone else on campus and you’re going to tell me he’s just a guy?”

You shrug, shoveling another bite of food into your mouth. “I don’t know what to tell you Lays, I only spent an hour with him. He was nice, really sweet with his kid, and I’ll probably never see him again.”

You’re not sure why you feel a quick sting in your chest at that thought. It wasn’t like you knew him well or that he even owed you anything. Considering the fact that you’d gone weeks without so much as glimpsing him on campus you’d probably only have another chance to see him if he signed up for another session and there was no guarantee he’d return.

“So the kid thing is true?” Layla asks.

“Yeah. Really cute kid, pretty quiet.” Very quiet now that you think of it. You don’t have much experience with kids that young, but you’re certain kids Grogu’s age can talk. He hadn’t said so much as a word, only letting out an occasional noise or two. It was odd, but then he could just be shy or something. Another question you’d probably never have an answer for.

“Is the kid his?” Layla presses.

“I don’t know, it didn’t exactly come up while we discussed his paper on unique material applications,” you snap back at her. You wince a little at your sharp reply. It wasn’t deserved. Layla was simply curious and now the victim of your long day and swirling thoughts.

You quickly follow up with an apology. “Sorry. I just- I had a long day and I really didn’t learn much about him, okay?”

There’s a small sense of relief when Layla nods, backing down from her inquisition. “It’s cool, I get it. Just promise you’ll tell me if you see him again?”

“Yeah, I’ll let you know.”

The rest of the night passes like usual. You wash up after dinner, a fair trade since Layla cooked, and the two of you get to tackling homework that’s begun to pile up with the semester entering its full swing. Nighttime study sessions have been a regular occurrence since your undergrad days and have only intensified while pursuing your respective graduate degrees. It’s more about solidarity and accountability than shared workload, what with your program being in English and Layla’s in Marketing, but it’s nice. Simply having company is better than doing it all by yourself.

Around 10:30 you call it, eyes bleary from staring at your laptop. Layla is deep into a PDF reading so you leave her to her work and shuffle off to the shared bathroom. While the water heats, you brush your teeth lazily, going through the motions of your nightly routine. You test the water with your hand before deciding it’s warm enough to step in.

Your thoughts drift aimlessly as you stand under the hot stream, unfocused until they land back on him. It’s like you can’t help yourself, the way your thoughts have been returning to him all night. You’ve puzzled about him before, but only in the abstract. A hypothetical more than a real person. Wondering if rumors are true isn't quite the same as wondering about the man himself.

All throughout the night he kept popping up. One moment you would be considering the symbolic use of color in your assigned reading and the next you would be puzzling over Mando’s favorite color. Maybe orange, if his gloves were anything to go by. Layla's favorite song played and while she sang along you couldn't help wondering what kind of music he listens to. Rock probably, or was that too on the nose? As you sipped your drink you wondered what his drink of choice would be, alcoholic or not. Did he even drink alcohol at all? Something told you he wasn’t much for losing his inhibitions.

It's all the little things, all the little details that actually make up a person that no one bothers to speculate about that consume you now. Who cares about his favorite movie or favorite food when you can guess on whether or not he's been to jail?

As you wash the grime of the day from your body, your mind continues to drift further, settling onto the first thing that captured your attention earlier today. His hands. Those gorgeous sun soaked hands, how fluidly they moved across his keyboard. The firm hold of them when he shook your hand.

Eyes fluttering closed, you can't help imagining that it's his hands skating across your skin. You can almost feel the gentle roughness of them, the way he'd squeeze and hold you - tight, but not so hard that it hurts. Almost unconsciously, your hand begins to drift down your body, only to be interrupted by a pounding on the bathroom door. Your eyes snap open, confusion and embarrassment replacing your fantasy.

"Hurry up in there! I need to pee," Layla yells through the door.

You grumble in response, knowing she can't hear you, but quickly finish your shower. It's not quite as relaxing anymore, flustered by your wanton thoughts.

Getting back into your room, you check your email before setting your alarms for tomorrow. There’s the usual spam from online stores reminding you of limited time deals, a reminder that rent is due next week (lovely), and a couple generic university emails. Your eyes fall to your new tutoring appointment emails and you flick through them mindlessly to clear them out, knowing they’ll all automatically appear on your calendar.

Just as you’re about to close out of the app and get some well needed rest, a new email pops through. It’s another appointment alert scheduled for next week. You tap to open it and your heart flutters when you read the name on the form. Mando. No need to wonder about if you’d ever see him again now. You’d be seeing him Tuesday at 3 PM. Somehow you know he won’t miss his appointment.

×××××

Din is exhausted. Between Grogu, classes, and trying to find ways to make money, he barely has enough time to do basic functional adult things. Things like showering regularly, eating more than a required minimum of once a day, or heaven help him sleep.

He wishes he could afford a regular babysitter, allow himself some occasional reprieve but it's not possible. He makes just enough to keep the bills paid and at least Grogu's stomach full. There's also an ever present paranoia about letting a stranger into his home, much less to watch his son. Only Paz and Cara have ever babysat for him and even that was mostly against his will.

Din slumps onto his couch, exhausted from the long day. He’d found the couch on the side of the road. It’s well worn and has a couple holes in it, but it was devoid of fleas, comfortable, and most importantly, free. His helmet is off, sitting on the kitchen table where he’d left it after getting home from campus. He’s mostly used to it these days, but sometimes it can still feel suffocating underneath the custom bucket. Taking it off at the end of the day is always welcome, especially when Din sees Grogu’s eyes light up at his exposed face.

He allows himself just a moment of rest, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the back of the couch. Grogu had finally gone to bed, demanding three stories before he fell asleep and Din not having it within him to deny the requests. A small smile rests on his lips, thinking of Grogu's excitement at his mediocre storytelling. He already loathes the day when Grogu won't ask him to read anymore.

There are about twenty other things he should be doing right now other than sitting on the couch. The apartment hasn't been cleaned properly in weeks, dishes are piling up, laundry needs to be done, he needs to find a job for this weekend, should probably find better daycare for Grogu, has an exam to study for, and a paper to finish writing. He should be doing all of that and more, and yet he can't find the will to move. He stays planted firmly on the couch, letting his thoughts drift. A few different ideas and ruminations swirl around, but his mind settles onto one. Her.

She isn't what he had been expecting. When his professor had recommended a session with a writing tutor he'd been a little miffed at first. Din knew words weren't his strong suit, but he hadn't thought he was that bad. He probably wouldn't have even considered it if she hadn't immediately assured him that it was only a suggestion because she saw potential in his work.

He had still only been considering it, form half filled out, when Grogu had hit submit. He’d looked for a way to cancel the appointment, but couldn’t figure it out with the school’s poorly designed website, so instead he had resigned himself to going. After all, just the one session couldn't hurt and he'd already be on campus.

He thought the tutor would be some irritating know-it-all, pointing out all the mistakes in his paper. Either that, or that they'd be too nervous to make any real criticisms. He’d noticed the way people froze up around him, sometimes too timid to even look in his direction. She wasn't either of those things.

She was all smiles and kindness, not hesitant around him for a moment. Even Grogu took an immediate liking to her, as evidenced by the gift of his frog drawing. Din had more of those than he could count, but very few others had been bestowed the honor of his sacred amphibian themed artworks.

She challenged him in a way he liked, not rude but still forceful. Encouraging him to figure out what it was she was guiding him towards with the paper. Not taking ownership, simply identifying where ideas could be made stronger or clearer. They’d only worked through a few pages in the session and Din already felt more confident in his writing.

What he liked most though was that she hadn't even asked about the helmet. It was all he heard from those brave enough to speak to him. Where did he get it, why did he wear it, did he ever take it off, what does he look like underneath, and so on. Avoiding all of those questions got to be draining. She didn't even acknowledge it.

She had mentioned the rumors that were apparently swirling around campus about him but that was it. He was a bit grateful for that though, entirely unaware of how popular he'd apparently become. The stares that followed him on campus were hard to ignore, but he didn’t know about their accompanying whispers. He still isn’t sure if the rumors are a good or a bad thing. Her reaction hadn’t given him all that much to go off of. He wishes it had.

That thought stops Din short. Where did that come from? Why did her opinion of him suddenly matter after a single one hour session? Din can’t remember the last time he considered someone else’s opinion of him. Probably when he first brought Grogu home to meet everyone. Now here he is, wondering what his English tutor’s thoughts were about the rumors everyone has been spreading about him. He needs to get out more.

Din shakes his head free, trying to ponder other aspects of his life. Like when he’d be able to get the Razor Crest up and running again. She’d broken down again after only the second week of classes. Paz makes fun of him for riding on such an old bike, but she’s a classic. Din can’t get rid of her, no matter how much she likes to break down on him. In the meantime he could make due with the loaner truck from Peli.

Thoughts of his motorcycle only distract him for so long though. He realizes half-way through the fantasy that he’s imagining taking her out on his bike, feeling her hands clasped around his waist as he rides through the city. The way she’d hang on just a little tighter, pressing herself against his back, as he hits the throttle just a bit harder.

Din sits up on the couch and mutters to himself. “Come on, Djarin. Pull it together.”

She’s beautiful, yes, but to already be fantasizing about taking her for a ride? That’s a bit much. It has been months since Din has seen any kind of action, but he shouldn’t be this desperate after spending only an hour with a pretty face. Still, now that he’s thinking of it, his mind wanders to what she’d be like.

Would she take charge, calm and in control like she was earlier today? Or would she submit to him, allow him to do whatever he wanted? A small groan escapes Din’s lips at the thought of having her beneath him, begging for him to take her. How she would look spread out on his bedsheets, how sweet she’d taste. He can already imagine how good she’d feel wrapped around him, the way her eyes would look all strung out and cockdumb. It would be a beautiful sight if he’s ever lucky enough to see it.

An alarm Din forgot he set suddenly blares on his phone. He can’t even remember what he set it for as he’s yanked from his lewd imaginings, scrambling to turn it off. There’s a small wave of embarrassment as he registers where he allowed his thoughts to drift.

Ignoring the uncomfortable pressure in his jeans, Din pulls up the tutoring appointment form on his phone and signs up for another session. There’s an option to select a specific tutor and he’s quick to open it up, choosing her name from the drop down menu.

There’s nothing wrong about this, right? She’d helped him with his paper and Grogu liked her. She even asked if she’d be seeing him again. That was plenty of reason to have another session. His renegade fantasies had nothing to do with his decision to go back. Din is a man in control of his urges. If anything, this next session would prove that his thoughts were all just fleeting, just a simple result of going too long without anyone in his bed.

taglist: @honestly-shite @booksarekindaneat @wonderless-screwup @pinkninja200 @captain-jebi @ajeff855 @leias-rebelion

Reblogs and comments are highly appreciated 💕

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x you #college!din #college!mando #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian au #pedro pascal x reader #mandocrasis fic #sessions

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whosscruffylooking · 4 years ago

Text

The Purest Things-Damaged

Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Warnings: Mentions of rape, murder, and cheating. Canon-typical violence.

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: and so we begin our descent into the world of slow-burn! this piece begins at the end of season 3 episode 13 & carries into seasons 3 episode 14. thank you to everyone who has interacted with my stories, commenting and reposting helps creators so much! enjoy this installment :)

The Purest Things Masterlist

Gif Credit: @hqtchner

january 2008

Bookend: “We are all damaged. We have all been hurt. We have all had to learn painful lessons. We are all recovering from some mistake, loss, betrayal, abuse, injustice or misfortune. All of life is a process of recovery that never ends. We each must find ways to accept and move through the pain and to pick ourselves back up....Each tragedy is an announcement that some good will indeed come in time. Be patient with yourself.” ― Bryant McGill

Another day, another murderer locked away. This case proved that sometimes, the so-called "good guys" can be just as selfish as the "bad guys." The special agent who recruited the BAU's help, Jill Morris, used this case to obtain personal fame and grow her career.

You sit next to Rossi aboard the plane. He had a more personal interaction with Morris throughout the case, and you can tell her actions have left him more than disappointed.

Looking out the window at the sun setting behind the clouds, you mumble to yourself, "What's the difference?"

"Did you say something?" Dave speaks up.

Looking to him, you brush it off, "Oh. Nothing. I was just talking to myself."

He crosses his legs and smiles a warm smile at you, "Penny, for your thoughts then."

"I guess...I just don't understand how Jill Morris's motives can be any different from Jeremy Andrus's. Of course, Jill didn't murder or rape anyone. But, she exploited this case for her own personal benefit. She didn't just use the unsub; she exploited the victims as well. How is that any different than Jeremy using women for his own gratification?"

David sighs, "Aristotle said, 'Every practical pursuit or undertaking seems to aim at some good.' Our brains are wired for love and solidarity. Greed forms to undermine that wiring and trick others into believing that their means to an end is done for "good." People believe that to maintain that myth, any and all costs to others are simply casualties in the long run."

"There is all the difference in the world between helping another soul and exploiting their hardship for your own gain and deceiving yourself that they are the same," he continues, "I tried to show Jill that. But, I think she's already determined that the reason she does this job is not for the same reasons that we do. The rush of catching a suspect comes second to the excitement she gets when being praised for her achievement."

"What happened to her empathy," you wonder, "Empathy is a natural foundation in each of our lives, and our society functions on it! How could that not overpower her desire for recognition? I mean, for Christ's sake, her friend just died!"

"Unfortunately," he solemnly says, "It is harder to understand the motives of our peers than it is to profile a serial killer."

+++++

You wake as if there is an emergency, like sleeping had become a deadly thing, your heart pounds, and thoughts jumble throughout your brain. Shooting up from your seat, you crawl over a sleeping Rossi and stumble your way to the bathroom.

Your knuckles turn white as you grip the edge of the sink. Looking cautiously into the mirror, as if you are uncertain of what you'll see, you take in your ghostly appearance. Sweat beads drip down your forehead. Unable to comprehend the blurry remnants of your dream, you turn on the faucet and splash your face with cold water.

Upon exiting the bathroom, you notice everyone is sound asleep. Thank goodness no one noticed your state of panic. You notice that one overhead reading light is on and look to see Hotch awake and blankly staring out the window.

"Can't sleep either?" You ask, sitting across from him.

"Are you alright?" He asks, trying to deflect your attention.

You squint at him, unwilling to back down, "Are you?"

He looks at you intently, taking the sight of you in inch-by-inch. No one has asked him that over the past few weeks. In fact, everyone has seemingly been avoiding him since he was served his divorce papers. Perhaps they are doing it because they are unsure how to support him or genuinely feel that what he needs right now is space.

However, you know that being alone is the last thing he needs right now. "Hotch, I know it isn't my place, and I--I'm sorry if this is overstepping. But that expression on your face that you've worn for the past few weeks isn't foreign to me. Perhaps to everyone else, it is. They don't know what to do or say. You're their unit chief, and they are used to you being strong and keeping it together for the sake of everyone else."

He straightens his posture, his attention centered on you.

"I witnessed firsthand the ways that divorce can torment people. My parents got a sudden divorce when I was 14. It was unexpected to all of us. My father was unfaithful, and although my mom was willing to forgive him, he didn't want to put in the work anymore. He found a new outlet for his frustrations. I watched my mother and father waste away for years," you lament.

Hotch sits on the edge of his seat, his eyes trained keenly on you. It was odd for him to make a connection so quick, to give his trust so easily. In fact, he hardly trusts at all. Dave and Haley are the only ones who have really been given an insider's peek into the mind and heart of Aaron Hotchner. There was something in the way he listens so actively to what you are saying. You would be lying if you said you didn't notice his gaze aimed at your lips.

There is a sympathetic and heartfelt concern he shows for you, one second only to your own regard for him. He listens like he is absorbing your words. The longer you spend in each other's presence, the more you both realize that this is the kind of friendship you both have needed for far too long. Even if the words go unspoken, you share an empathetic understanding of one another, and you are sure it has been there since the day you met. Hotch has been fascinated by you since he watched your interview with Strauss over and over again, though he would never let it be known.

+++++

February 2008

Today is the day that you get to accompany Hotch and Reid on the Criminal Personality Research Project to interview Chester Hardwick before his execution. Hardwick's case is one you know inside and out. You wrote a research report on it that was awarded the Graduate Student Ethics Writing Competition winner for the American Psychological Association and was published in their Ethics and Behavior journal. Agent Hotchner suggested that you tag along, considering you know just as much about the case as Spencer does.

You and Spencer absentmindedly fiddle with the knickknacks that rest upon the desk as you wait to be escorted to see Chester Hardwick.

Hotch's phone begins to ring, and he answers it, "Yeah, J.J... Um, no, it's--It's a personal matter. Yes, thank you. I will take care of it when I get back."

"Everything okay?" You ask softly.

"Yeah, fine." He says abruptly.

"We can do this interview another time," Reid offers.

Aaron huffs, "Well, he is scheduled to be executed next week."

"I can take the lead on the interview if you w-" Reid unintentionally pushes.

You cut him off, "Reid."

Hotch shoots you an appreciative look.

Anytime sir.

"Agent Hotchner?" A relatively short man wearing freakishly petite glasses comes to the door.

The Unit Chief shakes the man's hand and introduces you and Spencer.

"You're here to see our infamous inmate Hardwick," the warden exclaims.

"Yes," you say, "He agreed to meet with us as part of our Criminal Personality Research Project before his execution."

The man smiles widely, "I've read your research on Hardwick many times. I must say, seeing your perspective on the mind of such a prolific killer was very enlightening."

You beam with pride at his commendation. Instinctively you look to Hotch, who appears to have the slight trace of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You wonder, how can he go from scowling and frustrated one minute to fighting back the urge to smile at the mention of your achievements? You bite your lip to suppress any further needless excitement.

The warden continues to ramble, "Serial killers are kind of a hobby of mine. Chester is the only one I've ever met in person, though. I bet you've met quite a few."

"Sir," Hotch interjects, "We'd very much like to get started as soon as we can."

Time to put our serious pants back on.

You can visibly see your superior's annoyance, and you stifle a chuckle.

The warden quickly composes himself and apologizes for his enthusiasm, touching his hand to Hotch's shoulder in the process. Hotch's mouth falls agape, and his sights shoot to you. A small snort escapes you, and you cover your mouth, attempting to conceal it as a cough. He squints at you as if he is mentally murdering you. You crinkle your nose at him.

Don't mentally murder me when we are about to interview one of the most prolific killers of our time.

The warden leads you into the small cell that you will convert into a makeshift interrogation room. Soon enough, you hear the clanking of chains echoing in the hallway. Everyone's eyesight is fixed on the door.

A silver-haired man dressed in a yellow jumpsuit walks in with an air of arrogance and determination. He glares at Agent Hotchner, who mirrors the prisoner's actions exactly. Hotch states that keeping the prisoner chained will not be necessary, a call that both you and Spencer are unsure of.

Hardwick sits across from you and leans into the table, "I know you."

"And I know you. Too well, I think," you respond.

A menacing grin sweeps across his face, "Oh, I like you already. How about you send these two away so the grown-ups can talk."

You can hear your boss scoff from behind you.

"Chester, it's time to get serious."

"You were born April 4, 1950?" Spencer asks.

"Does my birthday really matter?"

"It's customary for us to start at the beginning. We want to know as much as we can about your childhood," Reid continues.

"There's nothing to know. It was average. I lived in a nice house on a quiet street. I ate cereal, went to school, watched cartoons."

"I don't have time for this," Hotch raises his voice, causing you to jump slightly, "You grew up in a series of projects, each one worse than the last. You spent your teenage years peeping into your female neighbors' windows and burglarizing their underwear drawers when you got the chance. You set 100 small fires for which you spent 2 years in juvenile detention."

You glance at Reid from the corner of your eye; you are both uncomfortable with the direction Hotch is taking this.

"We've done extensive research, Mr. Hardwick," you say, gently trying to soften the blow and appeal to the man's ego. If Hotch is taking the bad cop role, you need to be this psychopath's ally.

"We've talked to almost everyone you've ever known," you continue, "including your mother."

Chester swivels on the balls of his feet, "Good ol' Jean? I'll bet she was a real treat."

"At this point, lying to us isn't really possible or helpful," Spencer offers a slight smirk to the man.

"Y/N, right?" the prisoner turns his attention to you, "They're wrong. They're all wrong."

"About what, Chester?" You implore him.

"I started a lot more than one hundred fires," he peers out the window.

You look up at Hotch, and he sighs in surrender.

Chester antagonizes you three, stating that no one care's whether or not they hear the truth. In between his jabs, he strays to various different series of thoughts. Most are meaningless, but it is his way of trying to get under your skin. For you and Spencer, it is relatively easy to maintain your composure. For Hotch, however, Hardwick's digs do nothing but add fuel to the already lit flame under the special agent.

"Let's talk about the specifics of this case, Chester," you interrupt his rant, "Why did you choose Sheila O'Neal?"

He shakes his head, "You gotta show me a picture. I don't know their names."

As if you can feel Hotch's anger radiating off of his body, you brace yourself for the oncoming strike.

"Is that what this is all about," he says disgustedly, "Some chance for you to relive all of this?"

"I have an excellent memory," Chester brags.

You tune his impassionate speech out and focus your observance on your boss. His scalding stare at Hardwick can only translate one way, 'I have initiated my emotional indifference. I could kill you and not care one bit. So proceed with caution.'

"They were toys, a diversion," you hear Hardwick chant as you tune back into the present. Hotch looks anywhere but at the killer in front of him, his gaze eventually landing you. You are some kind of shelter to him that neither of you has yet acknowledged or come to understand.

Your stomach churns at Chester's descriptions of his victims. He describes them as useless objects that, once their purpose was served, were discarded like garbage.

"Why did you ask us here?" Hotch charges.

The wicked man looks at you, his eyes void of a soul and his stare sending a chill down your veins.

"I wanted to speak to her."

Your breath catches at the back of your throat.

With that, Hotch straightens up and fervently positions himself between Chester and you. "Reid, pack it up," he commands.

Reid looks to you, "Are you sure?"

"No, now." Your superior repeats himself with even more fervor. He presses the buzzer to signal the guards to release us and says, "Have a nice trip. You're going where you belong." Hotch makes sure to put as much distance between you and Hardwick as possible. He buzzes the ringer again. No response.

"It's 5:17," Hardwick chuckles.

You close your eyes, the reality of the situation finally sinking in. Reaching out for Hotch's arm, you lower his hand from the buzzer. "The evening yard begins at 5 o'clock. No one is going to come open that door for-"

"At least thirteen minutes," Chester disrupts. He waltzes over the table and takes one of the images of his victims into his hand. Holding it up as if to brag to us about it, he says, "And it took me less than five minutes to do this."

You push aside your worry. Instead, you choose to focus on all of the information you have accumulated over the years about Chester Hardwick. There has to be something you can use to your advantage to diffuse this situation.

"Perhaps in all of your research, you should have familiarized yourselves with the guard tones," Hardwick jeers.

"I heard the tones," Hotch counters in a monotone voice.

"So you planned to be locked inside with me, with no guns or weapons."

Hotch shakes his head, his voice more natural than before, "I won't need a gun."

Spencer places his hand on your arm and begins to guide you to the other side of the room.

"There's no way I am going to be executed next week," Chester taunts, kneading his hands together. "Not after I kill three FBI agents. You saved my life by coming here." His venomous words ring in your ears.

Hotch's tone deepens, "Unfortunately for you, I am not a five-foot-one-hundred-pound girl."

Your pulse quickens at Hotch's threat, and your attention is rapt by his display of dominance. He begins to shed his jacket. You feel yourself flushing; attraction suddenly entangles you as if it were an invisible rope.

Now is the worst possible time to be feeling this. Calm down.

"All of your life, you've gone after victims who couldn't fight back," he fiercely says, "and the rest of the time you spent looking over your shoulder." You understand the intensity in his tone and sense a great deal of emotion behind his words.

He rips his tie from his collar, and your breathing hitches in the back of your throat. Hopefully, Spencer doesn't notice, and if he does, he chalks it up to the deadly situation you find yourself in.

"You were always worried about the knock on the door," Hotch doesn't back down, "Scared that somebody like me would be on the other side waiting to put you away."

Well, if you keep ripping your tie off like th--no. Not gonna go there right now. Focus on the pyshco-killer threatening to kill you.

Now, Hotch intimidatingly points his finger directly at Hardwick.

If only I were on the receiving end of tha--no! Now. Is. Not. The. Time.

"At your core, you are a coward," Hotch fires.

You have to do something. Hardwick is enraged, and Hotch has nothing left to lose.

Without even giving it a second thought, you blurt out, "Chester, do you want to know why you killed those women?"

"What?" The prisoner hisses.

Spencer speaks up, "Earlier, you said you wished you were different. We can tell you why you are...what you are."

He begins moving towards you, and out of the corner of your eye, you notice your boss carefully making equal strides. You motion for him to stop.

"You can tell me why I did what I did?"

"I think so," you nod, "Don't you, Dr. Reid?"

"I do. Your mother is bipolar. And almost certainly an undifferentiated schizophrenic. Your father suffered severe shell shock in the war, what we now refer to as Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. As far as I can tell, he remained clinically depressed the rest of his life."

"Exactly," you say, giving Spencer a chance to gather his thoughts after having thrown him under the bus.

"53% of all serial killers have some form of mental illness inherent to their families. Chester, in your case, both of your parents suffered from psychological disorders, which they essentially took out on each other as much as they beat you. So, violence sort of became a normal expression of love in your household," you say, eager to have some kind of breakthrough with him while subliminally directing Spencer's string of thoughts to follow yours.

Allowing Reid to pick up where you leave off, he takes charge of the conversation and explains how a portion of one's brain wants what it wants without conscience or judgment. A part of the brain that no doubt took over Hotch's reasoning powers moments ago, though you do not blame him.

"Earlier, you said your victims never had a chance. I think you know deep down that it was you that never really had a chance," he concludes. And with that victorious resolution, the guards unlock the door. Hotch storms out, and Reid follows behind.

"Is that true that I never had the chance?" Hardwick calls out after you both.

You stop in your tracks, "I don't know."

"Maybe," Spencer nudges you out the door.

++++

In the car, Hotch looks at you in the rearview mirror, "That was smart to get Hardwick to focus on himself long enough for the guards to come back."

You pat Spencer's shoulder, "I give all the credit to boy wonder and his beautiful statistic-filled brain. I'm sorry for all of the times I said you were running out of storage with all of that useless data."

"I find that I do some of my best work under intense terror," he declares, "Wait. Useless data? When did you say that?"

You pinch him softly and chuckle, "I'm kidding."

"I'm sorry," Hotch sighs.

You meet his gaze in the mirror once again, "For what?"

His chestnut eyes reveal pangs of remorse and guilt, but something tells you there's more to those feelings than what occurred at the prison.

"I antagonized the situation."

"No, you didn't," Spencer states.

"I certainly didn't help."

"Well, I can't argue with you there," you kid.

His piercing eyes suddenly twinkle, causing you to blush slightly. You quickly look down at your feet until your cheeks cool down.

Hotch sighs in defeat, "So Haley wants me to sign the divorce papers uncontested so that nobody wastes money on lawyers."

That statement is all too familiar to you. Yet again, your heart shatters for the Hotchners.

"You don't want to?" Spencer asks innocently.

He means well, but you know from experience that such a question only unleashes a tidal wave of painful emotions for the one fighting for his family.

"What I want, I'm not going to get," Hotch laments.

His eyes, once filled with depth, now distant and empty.

++++

Glancing up from your paperwork and into your supervisor's office, you take note of his gravity-drawn shoulders that carry the weight of the world on them. He repeatedly picks up a stack of papers and then drops them back down atop his desk, covering his face with his hands.

"What do you think is going on up there?" Derek asks, pointing his pen in the direction of the office.

"I might have an idea. I'm going to go take my report; anyone else's done?" They all hand you their paperwork for you to deliver to the boss.

You hesitate to knock on his door but apprehensively do so anyways.

He invites you in. Your heart sinks as you approach his desk, able to get a closer look at his beaten expression. You always knew he was hiding pain behind his tough exterior, but now he wears it on the surface, most likely unintentionally.

Placing the paperwork on his desk, you notice the heading on the papers he was gripping tightly.

SUPREME COURT STATE OF VIRGINIA: MARITAL SETTLEMENT AGREEMENT

Hotch's eyes move slowly, laboriously, to look at you as if it takes a concentrated effort to do so.

"Heartache is a real thing," you sympathize with him, "In fact, Reid even told me that a broken heart can show up on medical scans. When a heart breaks, your body and brain need time to recuperate. There's no set amount of time or remedy that will heal you. Don't set your expectations of yourself too high, and surround yourself with the people who love you."

His chin trembles, and his eyes flutter as he blinks back tears.

You turn to leave the room but look over your shoulder one last time, "We are all here for you, Hotch."

Just as you are about to shut the door, you hear him call out to you, "Y/L/N!"

His stare reveals a vulnerability you have had yet to see in him.

"Call me Aaron."

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calaofnoldor · 4 years ago

Text

Drug of Choice

Characters: Dean x Reader (gender neutral)

Words: 3,790

Summary: A night of drunken rambling leads to an unexpected change in your relationship status.

Warnings: angst, language, alcohol, feelings of inadequacy, very slight allusions of alcoholism/talk of drug addiction, reader likes the sound of their voice a bit too much when drunk, fluff, implied smut

A/N: written for @deanwanddamons 1st blogiversary and 2k follower celebration challenge! my prompt was “I wish I knew how to quit you“ which is bolded in the fic. congrats on the incredible milestone, sorry this is late! also for @spnfluffbingo and it fills the mood board square for @girl-next-door-writes‘ Make Me Feel Bingo challenge!

Square Filled: Kissed to Keep Quiet

MASTERLIST

It was four in the morning when Dean finally came home, and the bottle of Jack Daniels that sat before you atop the library table was over a quarter of the way through.

The heavy thud of his boots against the bunker floor drew your dark-adjusted eyes toward his shadowy figure, while the alcohol in your bloodstream loosened your lips, "How was she?"

"Jesus- Fuck!" There was a slight commotion before the lights flickered on, forcing your eyes to shut against the onslaught of sudden brightness. "Y/N??” Dean’s gruff, alarmed voice shattered the previously eerie silence, “What the hell are you doing sitting in the dark by yourself?"

Your eyelids lifted an experimental sliver but you kept your gaze directed down at the glass of whiskey in your hands. "It wasn't dark when I started."

Dean narrowed his eyes when he noticed the slur behind your words. "Started what? Are you drunk?"

His second question prompted a dismissive snort from you, "Hunters can't get drunk; you should know that by now, Dean."

"Yeah alright, we need to get you to bed." The man of your dreams began to make his way over to you until your gravelly words ceased his steps.

"I can't sleep... you haven't answered my question yet."

"What question?"

"How was she?"

"Who?"

You looked at him like he was crazy, "You know, the girl from the bar, the one with the curly hair… the one that was climbing onto your lap when I left?"

"I don't- there was no girl," Dean stumbled. His lips were parted and his eyebrows pulled together in an ever-gorgeous expression of bewilderment, but you were too busy examining the way the newfound light danced along the lustrous amber liquid between your fingers to notice.

"Oh," you grumbled in response, sounding a bit disappointed, which only served to deepen those adorable lines of confusion between Dean’s brows. "She sure was pretty though.” There was a pause as you pondered his declaration before blurting out in disbelief, “You really didn't fuck her in the back of Baby?"

"What- No! Y/N, there was never a girl and nothing happened, OK?" He sounded genuinely serious, so you conceded.

"I'm sorry."

"Why- why are you sorry?"

"I know you needed to blow off some steam after today, after I pissed you off by fucking up the hunt." You ventured a glance up at him through your lashes and the unadulterated pain in your eyes almost had Dean reeling back in surprise.

"What are you talking about? You didn't 'fuck up' the hunt," he argued, shaking his head as if to accentuate his point.

"Course I did. I got you hurt and I nearly let that dickbag get away."

A weighted sigh escaped Dean, "Y/N, you have to know that wasn’t your fault, and it’s not like you haven’t done the same thing for me. Besides, I wasn’t pissed off, I was... I was scared, OK?”

You were about to take another sip of your drug of the night when you lowered your glass to let the irrepressible giggle leave your system, “Scared? Since when does the big bad Dean Winchester get scared? And if he did, he definitely wouldn’t be talking about it out loud. Are you sure you’re not the one who’s been drinking?”

“I mean, I have been drinking but that’s beside the point. Look, Y/N, why don’t we talk about this tomorrow, alright? You’ve just gotta sleep this off.”

"Pft. This isn't something I can just sleep off. Trust me, I've tried." There was a tickle in your throat that alerted you of the oncoming word vomit, but your friend Mr. Daniels seemed to be gaining complete control of your tongue; it was all he was ever good for really, “I’ve also tried drinking it away, but clearly that doesn’t work either. There’s just- so much- of it, of you… and now, now you’re in me-“ Dean’s eyes went wide but you were no longer at liberty to stop, “and I can’t get you out. Sometimes I don’t even think I want to. But I don’t think I can keep going like this any longer either… all this waiting, and wondering, and watching.” Some fragment of sobriety within you recognized how ridiculous and melodramatic you sounded and it gave you enough sense to avoid eye contact with the subject of you’re alcohol-induced speech, as if that could help you elude further embarrassment.

“OK, you’ve gotta slow down, Y/N/N. What the hell are you talking about?” At this point, Dean had moved to take the seat across from you, subtly sliding the bottle of Jack out of your reach as he sat down.

A mirthless laugh was your reply, "Of course you don’t know. Why would you?“

“What does that mean? Why wouldn’t I? Y/N, what’s going on?”

But you ignored his questions and answered with one of your own, “Why am I never enough? You know what, don't answer that; that was a rhetor- rhetor…”

“Rhetorical?”

“Yes!” you exclaimed, flailing your index finger in his direction, “Yes, that’s the word. See, even your brain is too good for me.”

“What- why would you say that? Y/N, you know that’s not true. And why do you think you’re never enough? You’re plenty enough.” Concern now painted Dean’s features. He hated seeing you this way, broken and depressed, trying to drown your feelings in whiskey; he’d figured that was his trademark amongst the bunker residents. And he couldn’t understand how someone as incredible as you would think themselves unworthy of anything. Whichever son of a bitch made you feel this way would pay, Dean swore it.

“Then how come you never pick me?” you countered simply, deciding it was finally time to call out his hypocrisy.

The accusation floored Dean. He scooted back in his seat as he stared at you with a slack jaw, utter perplexity swirling within his emerald eyes. Over the years, Dean had garnered an inkling that you felt some kinda way about him, but he never really let himself believe, and not once did he think he could be hurting you. On the contrary, he always figured it was his own hopeful heart playing tricks on him. Even now, he wasn’t entirely sure he was hearing you correctly, or that your drunken state could be trusted, though he remembered you once told him that you were always the most honest version of yourself when you drank, whiskey in particular.

“I watch you go out with waitress after bartender after waitress, but I’ve been here the whole time, and you never consider me. It’s like I don’t even exist, like I’m not even an option, like I could never even help you scratch that itch, at least not as good as any barfly across the Midwest could.” You were aware that this was getting out of hand, but you couldn’t seem to find the brakes. “But that’s not even the real problem – I mean, sure, a roll around the hay with you would probably be mind-blowing as fuck – but it would never solve the root of it, never be enough for me.”

Dean had been studying you meticulously as you spoke, your words starting a fire to the embers of his soul, breathing life into a long-forgotten hope that brought him both joy and fear. “What would? Be enough for you, I mean?” His tone took on a raw sultriness that matched the intense, borderline predatory glaze of his eyes. Needless to say, Dean hadn’t expected your sardonic laughter to fill the air, and your sudden frenzied, carefree state certainly took him off guard.

“Nothing!” you laughed, “I don’t think anything will ever be enough for me! C-cause you’re like this drug that I’m hooked on and it’s just so fucking hard to get off… I mean, it’s also hard to get off without you now, or thoughts of you anyway...” Your tangent was quickly overcome when you remembered the topic of your initial spiel, “But it’s like everything about you draws me in! From the way you reference classic literature even though I’ve never seen you pick up a book that’s not about lore, to the way you rebuild Baby from scratch like it’s no big deal, to the way you’re so good with kids even though you never got to be one yourself, to the dumb way you bottle up all your feelings and never let them see the light of day yet still manage to do so much good in the world, t-to the way you get excited over classic rock and crappy horror movies and pie, and don’t even get me started on the way you love Sam! I mean, it’s just all of it! It’s your strength and perseverance through literal hell, it’s your huge fucking heart despite the mask of swagger and charm, it’s that stupid grin you get when you make a dumb joke and Sam rolls his eyes at you, it’s just those god damn lips in general! And then you walk around looking like that!?” you gestured wildly at all of him, “I mean, who gave you the right?!”

Dean looked like he was about to respond, but you cut him off. There really was no stopping your tirade now, “I’m like an addict who can never get enough, and when you leave, I get feelings of withdrawal, and I don’t know how to fucking deal with those either… You’re so deeply ingrained in me; I don’t think I’ll ever be able to flush you out of my system. And I just-“ you took a rare pause to heave a large breath before admitting quietly, “I wish I knew how to quit you. I really do, because as much as I love you, and trust me, it’s a whole fucking lot – God, does it feel good to finally say that out loud – but for every ounce of love that I have for you, for every bit of you that I’ve inhaled, it hurts just as much. Because you don’t feel the same, and you never will, and I don’t blame you, because you’re Dean fucking Winchester and you could have whoever you want with just a wink and half a smile, and you deserve to have whoever you want-”

“Are you done?” Dean was quick to latch onto the brief respite in your monologue, “Fuck, Y/N, you really have no idea what you do to me, do you? What you are to me?” His head shook in disbelief while his troubled green eyes searched yours.

“What I am to you? I’m your hunting buddy, Dean. The one you call when you need an extra hand with a vamp nest or an extra set of eyes to scour the books, the one who stays up with you when you have nightmares about the souls you tortured in hell, the one you sing rock songs out of tune in the car with, just never the one you go to for a booty call,” you finished with a bitter laugh.

Dean’s head had never ceased it’s shaking, even as he got up and walked around the table towards you. “Only because you’re worth so much more than that. Y/N, you deserve so much more than me.”

It was your turn to shake your head. How typical, you thought as you rolled your eyes and stood up to meet his eye line, “Don’t give me that bullshit, Dean. I know you’re trying to let me down easy and that’s nice of you and all, but you can’t fool me. I know you too well, Dean Winchester, and I know there’s no way in hell that- Mmf!“ The rest of your words were intercepted by Dean’s lips on yours.

The feeling was unexpected but not at all unwelcome. There was an urgent force behind the kiss as he pushed his mouth against yours with gentle yet firm ferocity, bracing your head with large hands cupping both sides. It felt as if he was desperately trying to convey a message to you, to disprove your woeful words of self-pity, or perhaps he just wanted you to shut up. You, of course, responded with tremendous enthusiasm regardless of his intent, grasping blindly at his forearms while slotting your tongue and lips around his in an increasingly frantic manner. You didn’t care if the kiss wasn’t good for him; this might be your only chance to take what you need from Dean Winchester, if only a tiny fraction of it.

When he finally pulled back, you were both panting for air. Dean still held your head in both hands as he leaned forward to rest his forehead upon yours. “Dammit, I shouldn’t have done that; you’re drunk... Do you at least believe me now?”

A slight grimace contorted Dean’s features as his mind was suddenly bombarded by a multitude of conflicted thoughts and feelings, feelings of desire and regret and bliss and unease, but when he caught the dazed look in your eyes, Dean made up his mind, “Ah, what the hell, you’re probably not gonna remember much of this anyway. Look, Y/N, you’re wrong. I do feel the same way about you; I have pretty much ever since I saw that magnificent ass of yours.” Pausing to chuckle at his own words, Dean licked his lips, still able to taste the whiskey from yours.

“The only reason I fucked around with those other people was because I couldn’t stand not being able to have you,” he continued through closed eyes and gritted teeth before filling his chest with a deep breath, “Like today, when I saw that fucking werewolf come at you, I nearly lost it. The thought of anything happening to you scares me shitless, and I didn’t know how to process that feeling, so I let that girl at the bar get close. I was trying to fill the hole you created but it was pointless cause in the end, just like every other time, I couldn’t go through with it. Every time I try to forget about you, your face shows up in my head,” he growled in that low, throaty tone that always seemed to reverberate down to your nether regions.

“But I- I wasn’t lying when I said you deserve more than me. Y/N, you know me. I’m a broken, twisted, shell of a man. I’m-“

“Poison, I know,” you finally lifted your head away from his so that you could look directly into his dazzling eyes. Dean’s hands slid down along your neck and landed on your shoulders while yours remained on his forearms, not willing to lose all contact. “I know what you’re gonna say. You think you’re poison, that being with you puts a target on my back, that loving you is a death sentence… Did I get that right?”

Dean gave you a miniscule nod and a look of resignation as he reluctantly released you from his hold, forcing you to let go as well when he took a large step back. You suddenly felt extremely sober, the effects of the alcohol and that kiss all wearing off instantaneously, “And you hate yourself. No one hates you more than you, Dean.” Your voice was hardly a whisper now, “But that’s OK, cause I hate myself too, for never being able to make you realize that you are so much more than you give yourself credit for, that you deserve all the things you think you can’t have, that you can have them all and still be Dean Winchester.”

You watched as Dean’s eyes began to water and when a single tear rolled down his cheek, you couldn’t hold yourself back anymore. Approaching him as slowly as you would a nervous animal out of its natural habitat, you stopped directly before him before cautiously raising your arm to wipe the offending tear away with your thumb. Your eyes seemed to be locked in a silent exchange of colossal magnitude, expressing everything mere words could not, from harrowing regret to agonizing self-inflicted torment to desperate desire. It was the yearning in his shimmering eyes that gave you the courage to speak your next words, a runaway tear of your own joining the whispered plea, “Please, let me show you.”

When your eyes fluttered open the next day, they were greeted with the most beautiful sight you'd ever awoken to. Dean’s face was barely a foot away from yours, and the man himself was already awake, staring directly at you. He was lying on his back with his head turned towards you, while your body was twisted to face his. A bedside lamp was on, allowing you to marvel at the breathtaking perfection in front of you, and despite the booze having long since evacuated from your veins, your mouth still imparted the first thing that came to your mind, “You know, I've always wanted to count your freckles,” you murmured honestly, “Maybe map them out like tiny constellations so I can memorize them better, so that one day I could trace them even with my eyes closed.” Your fingertips moved of their own accord as you spoke, gliding softly over his cheeks and across the ridge of his perfect nose.

Dean caught your hand in his and kissed it repeatedly as his magical olive eyes continued to bore into yours, never once leaving your face. His pouty lips curved into the slightest smile as if he were afraid to rear hope yet couldn't fight the peaceful thrill you were bringing him by simply lying next to him. “You’re not still drunk, are you?”

“Not unless it counts to be drunk on you… Sorry, that sounded a lot less cheesy in my head.” You cringed but Dean’s smile broadened.

“And no hangover?”

“No, I told you, hunters can’t-“

“Get drunk. Yeah, I heard. So does that mean you remember everything?”

“I don’t think I could forget that kiss if I wanted to; my brain wouldn’t let me.” You glanced down at his gorgeous mouth before meeting his gaze again, “I meant it all, you know? Everything I said was the truth. Every word.” You moved your thumb to graze his lower lip and he puckered his lips to kiss it.

“So did I, every word… Especially the part about that sweet ass of yours.” The hand that wasn’t holding yours roamed down to grab at your butt cheek with a hefty yet tender squeeze, causing you to squeal in delight. When you settled down, he moved your hand to place it above his heart, “You know I’m no good at chick flick moments, but you can trust me when I say I’m addicted to you too.”

The sincerity in his voice sent butterflies through your stomach and your smile felt invincible. “I hope you know that when I called you a ‘drug’ I didn’t mean it in a derogatory way. Some drugs are good for you. Some drugs can save your life,” you whispered as you fisted lightly at the soft cotton of his t-shirt.

“I wouldn’t go that far, sweetheart.”

“Isn’t that what you did yesterday?” Dean was about to retort but you sent him a raised brow and a look that said ‘don’t test me, I’ve got loads more evidence where that came from’ so he simply looked down with a small grin. “Does it still hurt?” You motioned to the white bandage on his shoulder where the werewolf had scratched him up yesterday when he jumped in front of you.

Dean shook his head, “Right now I can hardly feel it. Actually, it hasn’t hurt at all since I kissed you.”

The corners of your mouth lifted some more at his words. “See, that’s what I mean. To me, you’re like coffee on an early morning, morphine when I’m hurting, tranquilizers when I’m freaking out, Zoloft when the world’s got me down, mixed with a shot of ecstasy, and quite possibly the most potent form of Viagra known to mankind.” You might have lingered a moment to chuckle at your own joke, thinking ‘it’s funny cause it’s true’. Dean belted a guffaw himself and you were quite pleased as you continued, “You’re everything I’ve ever needed, all wrapped up in one beautiful, self-loathing man.” You stroked his stubbled jaw and caressed his cheek, letting your words waft softly across the distance between you, hoping he could sense the veracity within them, “And I just want you to let me love you, let me get high on you, so I can show you how good you are. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

A wave a sadness flowed through Dean and he lowered his gaze from yours. “This could end bloody.”

“I know,” you nodded, “But it’s so much better than the alternative... It was getting a bit too hard to bear, even if you were only eye fucking all those other suitors. Besides, if it means I get to kiss you whenever I want, it’ll be worth it. And if it means I get a chance to prove to you how worthy you are, then it’ll be more than worth it.”

“I was only staying away because I wanted to protect you from me, but I didn’t realize it was hurting you. I never wanted to cause you pain; Y/N, I need you to know that.” Dean’s warm, calloused palm ran up your arm, it’s gentleness in stark contrast to his fierce tone, while yours continued to cup his cheek.

Astounded by the passion behind his words and the utter beauty of his face, you whispered in awe, “How are you so perfect?” Seeing the cogs begin to turn in his brain, you quickly moved your index finger to press against his plush lips, “Shh, just let me say it. Baby steps, Dean.”

He took your finger and guided your arm to wrap around his wide shoulders, careful of his injury, then reached out to pull you snugly towards him until your bodies were completely flush, your chest heaving against his. “Well do we have to take baby steps with everything? Cause now that I’ve finally got you in my bed, I was kinda hoping you’d let me take you for a spin in it. Maybe find out if it’s really – how did you put it again? – ‘mind blowing as fuck’ I believe were your words?” That signature smirk of his that always brought you to your knees came out to play.

Your laughter fanned across his face, and the smile on your face was effervescent, “You really are one hell of a drug, Dean Winchester.”

thank you for reading! as always, feedback is marvelously appreciated!

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kykyonthemoon · 3 years ago

Text

A Midsummer Night's Dream

A Childe/ Tartaglia x Lumine Fanfic

During The Summer Festival in Inazuma, Lumine encountered a kitsune-masked man. He was strange, yet so familiar. Who could he be?...

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When Lumine and Paimon set foot in Inazuma, the weather was midsummer. In the sweltering air, the streets strewn with cherry blossoms became ever more bustling. The Summer Festival had arrived, with residents across Inazuma putting aside their daily worries to enjoy the best things summer had to offer.

Even travelers like Lumine and Paimon could not resist being invited to the festival. The lady from Kamisato house had asked Lumine and Paimon to accompany her, but something unexpected caused her to make another appointment. Determined not to miss the occasion, Lumine and Paimon agreed to take to the streets in new outfits that Ayaka had sent them.

Inazuma clothing is multi-layered and slightly harder to wear than previously worn by Lumine. In the summer, people do not wear too many layers due to the hot weather. As she put on the yukata, Lumine secretly admired its beauty: each needle line was very neat and beautiful, the outfit was pale yellow, dotted with cherry blossoms, especially it was not as hot as she had thought. There was also a hand fan made of bamboo and fabric of the same color as her yukata, which featured koi fish. Lumine remembered that Ayaka once told her about the types of fans, and this one was called “uchiwa,” and the koi pattern symbolized good luck.

“Traveler! You look beautiful!”

Lumine turned to her companion. Paimon wore the same patterned yukata as her, but it was pink and white. Her little friend looked more adorable than ever.

“I was thinking if my dress is a bit tight. If Paimon can’t eat anything tonight, I’ll be so angry at the Kamisato!”

Lumine burst into laughter.

The bustling city of Inazuma greeted them in the glorious sunset. On both sides of the road, colorful lanterns were lit. Everywhere was filled with different restaurants and stalls; flowers, prayer charms, masks, and decorations that extend all the way to Amakane Island. The most sold was, of course, food. Needless to say, Paimon loved to be here.

“Whoa! What a crowd!” Paimon remarked as they mingled with the group of walkers. “Don’t leave me behind, Traveler!”

However, it was Lumine who was left behind when Paimon was caught up in the roadside food stalls. The little companion flew up and then swooped down on literally every stall she saw, as they offered free tastings. A few minutes later, Lumine could not see Paimon anymore.

Lumine could not fly like Paimon. She had to squeeze through the stream of smiling and talking people to find her friend. Inazuma City is large, with small streets intertwined and connected to one another. After a long search, Lumine accepted the fact that she had lost Paimon.

Lumine sighed. It’s also unclear where she was on the map of Inazuma City. She wandered alone, looking at the streets and rolled her eyes to every corner to see if Paimon was somewhere around. Not paying attention to the path, she suddenly bumped into someone's back.

“Sorry… I’m sorry!” Lumine said, embarrassed.

In front of her was a white yukata patterned with light blue waves. Whoever she bumped into was much taller than her. Then, he turned around.

Lumine noticed that he was wearing a kitsune mask on his face. Although his face was unknown to her, his appearance was very familiar; tall and slim, with short, choppy orange hair, even his voice was like that person.

“Are you alright, Miss?”

Lumine was frozen for a moment.

"You're not hurt, are you? You should be careful in such a crowded place like this. I can’t bear to see a beautiful lady like you get hurt."

Lumine frowned. Even these teasing words were very similar to a person she knew.

"We've met before, haven't we?" She asked frankly. Lumine does not like to play the vague game.

The one in kitsune mask laughed out loud:

“Quite a bold young lady, aren’t you? Perhaps we’ve met, in my sweetest dreams.”

Lumine blushed. She was both embarrassed and a little angry. How dared a stranger make fun of her like that?

“If you’re not the person I know, then I’m sorry for bothering you.”

Saying so, Lumine was about to leave, but the man stopped her.

"Wait. I'm sorry I teased you. But you look a little lost, Miss. Is there anything I can do to help you?"

Lumine weighed in on it a bit. She really needed to find Paimon and get back to the inn. Yet was this stranger trustworthy?

“Are you a local?” Lumine asked.

"No. I'm an outsider, just like you. The only difference is that I've been here for a while. I have some personal business here."

If it's a private matter, it's best not to ask. Lumine thought so. She hesitated for a moment and replied:

"I'm actually looking for my friends. I’ve just lost her."

"Then you've met the right person. I know every corner around here."

Seeing that Lumine did not believe him, the man said, "Come on, don't look at me like that! I just want to help a far-away traveler. That’s all."

"All right." Lumine replied. "But if you ask for mora, I don't have much..."

The masked man looked at her for a moment and then laughed so loudly that passers-by stared at them.

"Haha! Miss, you're funny! Why do you think my kindness needs to be reciprocated?"

Lumine paused for a moment. Her days of adventure from Mondstadt to Liyue, and now Inazuma, helped her come to terms with one thing: everything has a price. In other words, you scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours.

"Well... I'm sorry I didn't think right about you..." Lumine replied.

"Then, would you accept my help?"

Lumine nodded and said nothing more, but she thought that she would definitely repay today's favor.

They walked through the crowded streets. The masked man told Lumine about Inazuma and about the culture here. It helped widening her perspectives. If she hadn't bothered to look for Paimon, she would have enjoyed the whole atmosphere.

But there's no denying that everything at the Summer Festival was so special and distracted her over and over again. She came across a mask stall by the side of the road and turned to look at the person next to her.

"Do you want to buy a mask too, Miss?" He asked.

"Not really... I'm just thinking your mask is more beautiful and elaborate than what they sell."

The masked man adjusted his mask a little. Lumine saw him laughing.

"Of course. This is something I painted myself! If you want, I'll paint a same one for you."

Lumine waved her hand. “No, there's no need…” she said, but he pulled her into a nearby stall and asked the owner about the masks which customers could paint themselves.

Lumine watched intently as he painted the mask with red, black lines, and yellow dots. Moments later, he gave it to her.

"Here. For you."

Lumine picked up the mask, examining it with amusement.

"Thank you."

"Let me put it on for you."

Lumine looked up at him sheepishly.

"I... I can wear it myself."

Seemingly unable to hear her say anything, he took the mask and put it on one side of her hair.

"T-Thank you..." Lumine said, gazing down at her feet.

The man smiled.

"Hey, I don't even know your name." Lumine said as they continued to go.

"Call me Mr. Kitsune. The kids in Inazuma call me that." He replied and waved to a group of children in the distance.

He seemed to be very loved by children. Lumine thinks that any person who is liked by children cannot be evil by nature. Suddenly she thought of someone she knew. Could it be...? But how could a Harbinger like him be here? She looked around. There's no sight of the Fatui nearby. Was it all just her imagination?

The two walked into a smaller yet not less crowded street. Immediately, Lumine’s attention was caught by a crowd playing a very interesting game. They gathered next to a large pot of water, inside there were many goldfish. Each person held a seemingly fragile racket made out of paper, and tried to get the fish into their little bucket as much as possible during a specific amount of time.

"Do you want to try it?" Mr. Kitsune asked after seeing Lumine’s interest in the game for a long time.

Lumine nodded.

Mr. Kitsune said something to the woman who appeared to be the owner there, and she handed them two rackets and two small buckets.

In excitement, Lumine sat down and Mr. Kitsune sat next to her. Picking up turned out to be much more difficult than it seemed. The racket was flat and very easy to tear, and the dodgy fish seemed to have learned to avoid players and irritate them, skillfully.

Lumine's racket was torn shortly after she thought she had picked up the first fish. She looked to the side. Mr. Kitsune gave her a new one.

"Thank you." Lumine responded and the excitement returned. There's no way she’s going to lose to these goldfish!

After a hard fight, Lumine finally got her first fish. She eagerly turned to Mr. Kitsune to show it off, but then her face went sullen immediately when she saw his bucket full of fish. What was more obnoxious was that he reseted his head on one hand and caught the fish only with the other hand. His attitude of fish-picking was very relaxed, not as strenuous as Lumine's at all.

"How did you get so many fish?" She asked.

"Oh... I don't know. Perhaps it’s my talent?"

He had just finished speaking when another fish fell into his bucket. Lumine gave up and dropped her racket into the bucket. She sat and watched him pick up the fish. From time to time, she pointed to the fish she wanted him to catch.

“This one! It has nice color.”

"You do know that we have to return the fish after the game, right?" He laughed and moved his hand to pick up the fish Lumine wanted.

After the time was up, Mr. Kitsune got the highest prize: a stuffed fox. He gave it to Lumine.

"It does look like you." Lumine looked at the fox in her hands and commented as the two left. It has a soft orange fur, a white belly and four black legs.

"Then every time you see it, you will think of me."

He replied without a hint of shame. But Lumine was blushing like a red tomato. Seemingly aware of her intention to return the fox, he said:

"In Inazuma, it is considered disrespectful to return the given gifts.”

Lumine pinched the fox's nose with a force. She thought about turning it into a sandbag for Paimon to practice her fighting skills, but then it was also too cute for that.

After coming to the end of the street, Lumine realized they had reached the gate of Inazuma. The outside of the city was as bustling as the inside, but the air was fresh and pleasant thanks to the sea. The moon was high, and Paimon was still nowhere to be seen.

Looking around for a moment, Mr. Kitsune said:

"Maybe your friend has gone to Amakane Island. It is the best place to watch the fireworks. Besides, there is also a well-known street stall selling delicious oden.”

Perhaps Paimon would not go there to see the fireworks, but for the food, yes. Lumine agreed to join Mr. Kitsune on the walk to Amakane Island to find her friend. They walked a long way across the coast. Along the way, Lumine noticed that the people of Inazuma City were also heading to the island as they were mostly hands-to-hand couples with smiles. There were butterflies inside her stomach when she thought that walking side by side with Mr. Kitsune like this made them look like a couple.

"Tell me about your friend." Mr. Kitsune suddenly spoke up. "The one whom you thought I was."

Lumine mused. "I don't know if we're friends anymore..."

"What's wrong? Did he do something bad?"

"It could be put that way." Lumine recalled the mess that the Eleventh Harbinger of Fatui – Tartaglia had made in Liyue. Worse than that, he had taken advantage of her trust, leaving her caught up in a dispute between forces like a puppet. Even though everything had been resolved, she still could not let it go easily.

"If he's a bad guy, you should beat him to death and never speak to him again."

Those words made Lumine laugh.

"I do want to beat him up. But..." She paused for a moment and then continued. "There’s also a good side of him that changes my opinions on him. I wonder what his true face is."

They walked a little further. The sound of waves was caught in her ears. Lumine saw some crabs digging the sand and hiding from people in the distance.

"Everyone has their own masks to wear, Miss." Mr. Kitsune said. "One day, I hope he'll have the courage to take his mask off in front of you."

Lumine gazed up at the man wearing the fox mask next to her for a moment. Wasn’t he hiding his face from her too? What's that fox mask hiding that she didn’t know yet? But everyone has secrets, and Lumine is not much of a pryer.

As soon as they arrived at Amakane Island, Lumine’s nose was immediately attacked by the aroma of food emanating from street vendors. Perhaps she was really hungry after the hopeless search for Paimon, and a long walk to this place. Now Lumine just wanted to sit down and eat all the food that the people here had to offer.

Mr. Kitsune led Lumine to an oden stall. They were seated right in front of the counter and the smoke and aroma emanating from the kitchen in front of them made Lumine's stomach rumble louder than ever. There was no need to wait long, their food was served soon after. Lumine's bowl had a variety of food: fish balls, boiled eggs, fried tofu, radishes and even noodles. She happily picked up her chopsticks and grab the food, but then realized that Mr. Kitsune was still sitting and looking at his oden bowl in a rather contemplative way.

"Aren’t you going to eat?" Lumine asked.

"Ah..." Mr. Kitsune seemed confused. He picked up his bamboo chopsticks awkwardly.

That person doesn't even know how to hold a chopstick too... Lumine brushed that thought away as soon as it appeared. She should have let go of the obsession which was him for a long time. Somehow, in all the places she went and the people she met, Lumine was looking for such a familiar silhouette in the past.

"Here, let me show you." Lumine reached out her chopsticks to Mr. Kitsune and demonstrated how to hold them little by little. There were moments when their hands touched and Lumine found herself blushing more than necessary.

"You're so good!" Mr. Kitsune's remarks made Lumine's cheeks flush to the ears.

"Well... It's just a normal skill..." She replied, recalling her days at Liyue, when she had practiced holding chopsticks skillfully to pick up food before Paimon ate it all.

Lumine ate her oden and praised the chef's talent. She also kept her eyes on Mr. Kitsune. He merely lifted the mask a little to eat, and the place they sat was not bright enough for Lumine to see his face clearly.

After the oden, Lumine was once again invited by Mr. Kitsune to a tri-color dango treat. Realizing that she was being treated too much, she offered to pay for some octopus balls called takoyaki which later on she had quite a memory with it. It's a dish of spherical scones made of flour, with chopped octopus fillings and some other ingredients inside, then fried in a special pan that has a lot of semicircular concave parts. Lumine bought a square plate containing four takoyaki arranged neatly inside and she skewered one to her mouth.

“Wait!”

But It was too late for Mr. Kitsune, Lumine had put a whole round takoyaki in her mouth. She looked at him and wondered why he was leaning up as if he’s afraid her tongue was burnt. The food was cold enough to be eaten. But that's just what she thought.

When she bit into the crust and spilled the filling, Lumine knew why Mr. Kitsune had warned her. The filling was so hot that Lumine's tongue tip was on fire. She rushed a hand to her mouth, tears welling up. She tried to chew and swallow the food. Fortunately, it wasn't so hot to the point it actually burned her tongue.

Mr. Kitsune gave her a cool cup of tea. Lumine, after regaining her composure, noticed that he had been chuckled all along. She grimaced, took a sip of tea and said in a furious tone:

"You don't have to laugh at me like that."

Mr. Kitsune tried to suppress his laughter and replied, "Sorry... I've never seen anyone eating takoyaki in such a cute way."

Lumine's face was red, not knowing whether it was the food being too hot or because she was embarrassed.

Nearby, there was a place filled with tiny hexagonal wooden cards. Mr. Kitsune said Lumine could write her prayers on the card and hang it up. She took one and wrote her wish, hoping that she would soon be reunited with her twin brother. Mr. Kitsune just stood beside her, his eyes were looking away.

"You don’t have a prayer?"

"I don't need it." He replied. "My wish has already come true tonight."

Lumine wondered what his wish was, but she doubt that a mysterious man like him would let her know too much about himself.

They still could not find Paimon. Mr. Kitsune said that having gone to this place, at least they should see the fireworks. So Lumine and he climbed the moss-covered stone steps filled with weeds, through the red torii gates that had faded over the years. The whole road felt as the entrance to a wonderland with fireflies and magical forests.

There were also a few others walking up to the fireworks watching location. One of them accidentally bumped into Lumine causing her to slip. She thought she was going to fall, but Lumine was saved. She found herself in Mr. Kitsune's arm and her head on his shoulder. He stood just one step behind her. And then, Lumine caught his blue eyes.

They’re the same like someone’s…

Embarrassed, Lumine stood up. "T-Thank you..." She said, turning her face away.

Lumine was not used to walking on Inazuma wooden slippers. She blamed on them just to avoid thinking about the real cause of her confusion. Mr. Kitsune suddenly stood closer by her and said:

"Hold on to my hand, you won't fall again."

He did not look at Lumine but his hand was reaching out in front of her. Lumine hesitated but held on to it at last. They walked slowly up all the stone steps, to a cherry tree and sat down on a large rock, just in time for the very first fireworks to break out.

The night sky was lit up and there was a loud explosion. Colorful fireworks flew into the sky, then dissolved into hundreds of small rays of light. Lumine watched and admired their beauty. It was truly an ideal place to watch fireworks shoot from Inazuma City. Lumine turned to the man who brought her here.

"Though I can't find my friend, I'm happy that I’ve had a chance to enjoy the festival and watch the fireworks with you."

Mr. Kitsune seemed surprised and delighted.

"It is my honor to accompany you, Miss."

Lumine felt her cheeks burning up again. Perhaps all along the way, she had already known who the man in the kitsune mask really was.

"I hope that we'll see each other again soon."

* *

It was late at night. There was no more fireworks or laughter. Yet there was still a shadow of the person sitting under the cherry tree, even when the girl with him had already left for a while.

Next to him was a crimson mask, which seemed to exude a kind of dangerous and tempting power. But all his attention was on the harmless kitsune mask in his hand. All that happened tonight felt like a dream. Having known the Traveler had come to Inazuma, he still did not expect that she had found him herself, bumping into him among so many people on the street.

He had always wanted to see her again, ever since their farewell in Liyue. He constantly talked about her in letters to his family, as if they were very close friends; perhaps more than friends?

What could he expect, when fate always puts them on different sides of the battle? He fought for what he believes, and she always chose to help those who oppose him. But deep down in him was the desire to see her again, to see her smile at him once more. He wanted to touch her, but feared she would disappear like fireflies.

Therefore, having a walk with her, eating together and watching the fireworks next to her; everything happened tonight was a beautiful dream in the middle of the summer night. Delightful and sweet, yet came and fade away too quickly. After all, at least he knew she still remembered him.

If only she didn't. That way, she would not have to be upset when they meet again, maybe in another battle here in this land. She had hoped that they would see each other again soon, but he'd rather she not knew who was with her tonight.

Tartaglia put down the kitsune mask and picked up his Harbinger mask. He turned his gaze to the sky, praying silently that the stars would remember today for eternity. Then he put on the heavy mask and left.

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

Au's note: It's been a while since my last Genshin fic. Hope you guys enjoy this one. I really love Japanese festivals in summer and this piece was inspired by those, and with the in-game activities/ atmosphere too of course!

My Genshin Masterlist: x

#uwu sorry for my rusty writing skills #genshin impact #fanfic #chilumi #childe x lumine #tartaglia x lumine #lumine #childe #tartaglia #genshin impact fanfic #fanfiction

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chilly-me-softly · 3 years ago

Note

Reiss Nelson one!!! One where you're on a break because of something minor, you just wanting to have your space but then you're at one of his matches because you had promised him to be there from before and he gets injured pretty bad and you're instantly on the pitch to comfort him. Then your babifying him and fluffy ending with him teasing you about how you just couldn't stay away even though you're the one that asked for the break. I'm in a Reiss Nelson feels for some reason idk 😂 Thx

It was you who had asked Reiss for a break. Lately it all seemed too much, you were living with a constant sense of oppression in your chest and the little bickering between you certainly didn't help. You needed some space to be able to think freely and he had given it to you, albeit reluctantly.

You hadn't definitively cut off contact, every now and then you would talk on the phone or he would ask you for a coffee to stay close to you. And it was for that reason that you had decided to go to the match that weekend anyway, you had promised him and you knew how much he wanted you to be there that day.

The match starts, a few guys who weren't included in the team for various reasons as well as some family members are around you. The stadium is bursting with energy, clapping the referee for cautions to the opposing team and booing the players who were launching into very dangerous tackles.

The first half ends practically nil-nil and you start chatting to someone around waiting for the second half to start. You hardly notice the minutes passing and the referee's whistle brings the game back on track. Both teams have chances but no one can put the ball in the net.

It's around the 60th minute when everyone in the stadium is gasping almost at the same time, including you. Reiss is down again but this time he struggles to get up, one of his teammates urging the medics onto the pitch to help him. Lots of people surround the boy, either to drink or to assess his condition, and you can't see much. Some murmur that it's quite serious, that the player has broken something and you pray it's not the case. You hope that Reiss is okay, but when you see the substitution board showing his number in red and the stretcher taking him away you know that's not the case.

You don't care about the game anymore, one of the guys there escorts you straight to the locker room where they know their friend has been taken. They make you wait outside and you don't know how hard you're holding on. When the same guy comes out the door to give you the all-clear you swallow hard, taking a second before nodding and stepping into the room.

Your heart beats fast in your chest as you approach him lying on the table, one arm covering his eyes while some of the medical staff are around the room organising what to do. You approach slowly but confidently at the same time, placing your hand on his chest making him jump slightly and remove his arm from his face.

"You're here" he murmurs as if he wasn't expecting it and you nod, his eyes watering. You lean over him then, your hair shielding you from the others as you repeat 'I'm here' and your foreheads touch.

You are brought back to reality by the staff who warn him that they have to take him to the hospital and needless to say, you go with them. That is undoubtedly an unexpected day, well you certainly wouldn't have imagined yourself waiting for Reiss in a hospital room while he did his tests when you had worn his shirt that morning.

The verdict is that he will have to have surgery the next day, he doesn't ask you but you stay with him that evening. Looking after him and trying to get all the what-ifs out of his mind before the operation; watching him reassure his mother that she doesn't have to worry because he is in good company. You make sure he has everything he needs to be as comfortable as possible and you've just finished adjusting his pillow when you hear him giggle.

"What?"

"I was just thinking about how you can't stay away from me"

"And that makes you laugh because...?"

"I don't know, maybe I didn't just break my knee but my sense of humor as well"

"Don't even joke about that" you hit him lightly on the arm.

"Oi I'm already injured" you roll your eyes sitting carefully by his side taking his hand between yours.

"I know the break I asked for didn't last long, but I couldn't pretend nothing happened today. You're always important to me"

"Just glad you didn't" he admits sincerely looking at you.

#thank you #reiss nelson #reiss nelson blurb

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snowgoldwaylon · 4 years ago

Text

Not So Rough Afterall - Naga X Reader

Naga always seems to have a stoic attitude. But, after the reader wiggles into his heart, will it change him?

TW: Strong language.

Naga had never expected to fall in love with you, but he did. You wiggled a way into his heart with ease, and for some reason he could never process how he was so lucky to know you.

You joined up with him after an unexpected run in. He caught you one day sneaking around, stealing things off his base and this pissed him off.

You had nobody left in your life. They all had left you in the jungle so they didn't have to deal with you. They didn't care as much, so you survived off the land.

Until, the winter time. Now was the time you'd revert to stealing for survival, and staying hidden. That was until you were caught by the head honcho of the jungle and compound.

You remember how large the knife was he held. It make you start to shake really bad as you got integrated that day. But for some reason, Naga had shown you mercy.

According to his men, he showed nobody mercy.

You were currently hanging out in a tree branch, with a good book. The weather was perfect, and the fresh bananas from the clumps tasted extra delicious today.

After reading some more chapters, you heard a familiar whistle in the distance. You knew that whistle met that Naga was calling for you to see him.

You quickly closed the book, tucked it away, and took hold of a vine. You supported yourself as you took a leap and swung off the high tree with the vine.

You stuck a perfect landing, and walked calmly to where Naga had a meeting spot. You saw him, with his arms behind his back and looking directly at you. You walked closer and stopped just about 4 feet from him.

"Did you need me?" You asked.

Naga nodded, and then presented a piece of paper.

"This is what I need you to do today. Make sure to have it done by 5, we have customers coming in today and we dot need the place looking like a tornado went through it." He said, holding it out.

You reached out to grab it, but right before you could he let it go. You watched as it landed in a puddle of water from an air unit, and looked back at him with a "what the fuck face."

He stifled a laugh, turned on his heel and walked away. He really just did that, and walked away. You were really fed up to a point with him. You were really supportive, and did everything he asked just because you want to be nice.

You found yourself taking a liking to him, so you never tried to make him mad, or give any grief. But, he really seemed to not care about how anyone felt other than himself. And it pissed you off.

You stomped away, and went right back in tree. You didn't care if he choked at this point. You were just really irritated and over the way he constantly treated you and others at this point. You knew, you had to run away and you had full intentions.

You planned for hours. You sat in the same tree, and mapped out a route to escape, so you weren't going to be caught. You really didn't know how Naga was going to feel, so it was just best to avoid.

After you found the perfect way, you folded the map and slipped it into your pocket. You swung down off the vine again, and walked to your house with ease.

You got in, locked the door and grabbed a backpack. You packed anything that had value to you, and some essential items. You grabbed plenty of water and food.

You then stashed the bag somewhere hidden until sunset. The plan was, you were going to sneak out and 'borrow' one of the boats Naga requested be made for transportation, and sail to some city far away, and sink the fucker.

All was good until you heard an announcement over the PA system.

"Y/N to the yard." Was all the voice said.

You cursed it, and reluctantly went. You needed to avoid any kind of suspicion.

You arrvied, and saw Naga standing there, arms crossed and leg cocked. You could tell he wasn't very happy, and you quite frankly did not care.

You walked over to him with a stoic expression.

"Y/N, didn't I ask you to get this fucking place in order?" He practically spat.

"And didn't you fucking drop the paper into a puddle?" You retorted.

He huffed, and put a hand up to his head. He was getting pissed.

"Cut it out with the remarks. You won't talk to me like that, I've been nice enough to let you stay here so you wouldn't be alone." He remarked.

You could slowly feel your blood boil.

"And I hope you know I'm a human too. I appreciate you doing that but at this point, I'm over this." You said, tears quickly forming. His gaze narrowed.

"I've done everything every single day that you asked for, been nice, and I still can't ever get a friendly "hey how has your day been" or "hope you are well!" Do you have something against me? If so please tell me. I have no idea what I've done wrong." You pleaded.

Naga huffed, and dropped his gaze.

'Guess now or never' he thought to himself.

"Well yeah, I know I'm a dick but it's because....I like you. Not in a friend way, Y/N. I fucking like you as a potential partner and it makes me nervous, so I'm a dick about it." He admitted.

Suddenly, you felt like you were lost, but excited at the same time. You liked him for a long time, and now it all made since.

"Kapano......I like you too. I have ever since you took me in." You said.

He looked at you, and under his mask you saw a small smile.

He took off his glasses, and took a step towards you. He cupped your face in his big hands. Youe heart was beating so fast, you felt like it was going to jump from your chest.

Titanic style, he kissed you. It was in slow motion. And the rest of the world didn't even matter to you.

He pulled away, and held you close. You didn't let him go either.

"I'm sorry for the ways I acted. I'll protect you from now on, I swear." Was all he said, holding you closer.

Needless to say, you didn't run away. Instead, you started a business of your own and traded things you loved to make.

After a few years, you were both married, and had twins. A boy and girl, and Naga finally seemed to calm down.

#black ops cold war #cold war #kapano vang #frank woods #naga x reader

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lettrespromises · 4 years ago

Text

PLAN À TROIS.— TODOROKI, BAKUGOU.

A.N:

❝ dear reader,

why hello it is i, nikki, back at it again. this post was specifically written thanks to @sasukelore’s big brain, meaning that this one is for the boys with the booming system, top down, AC with the cooler system😔✊🏻. it’s my first attempt at writing smut (which means it’s a direct ticket to hell) so please bare with me, i hope you’ll like it! if you have any feedback, please feel free to send it to me! also, my requests are open for business hehe.

sincerely yours,

nikki.

P.S: “plan à trois” has a double meaning— it means “threesome” in french but it also literally means “a plan involving three people” which is the core of the story, both literally and figuratively. ❞

Genre: Smut. (All three of the characters have been aged up.)

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of drugs (but no actual use of drugs), unprotected sex (please use a condom), nudity, spanking, choking, cunnilingus, blow-job, temperature play, threesome, dirty things.

Word count: 6.5k (she’s a big girl, don’t be shy.)

Letter object: One hotel. One gala. One mission. One person to take down. Three heroes. You and Shoto have to play the perfect fake couple to gain your enemy’s trust, the only thing is, Shoto has no clue how to behave as a couple. The unexpected help comes from Ground Zero who seems a bit too impatient and eager to show Shoto how to really treat a lady.

Metaphorically speaking, the heroes are seen as the predators and the villains as the preys, it’s always been that way— an eternal game of hide and seek, which only ends in binary results, either victory or loss. The latest news concerning the hero world had put this little game to a halt: the hushed rise of the anti-quirks drugs were concerning. The enemy was everywhere and nowhere, it was all whispers, a thread of ‘who said what’, mere illusions replaced authentic clues. The rules of the game had been changed into a paradox where the villains became the predators and the heroes were deemed as the preys.

The rule of silence, which could have easily been personified as the ringleader of this dystopic scenario, was cruel— anyone could be suspected of being a link of the drug chain. But fret not, if you were suspected and voices started to echo around louder and louder, a little bit of hush money was the price to pay to reinstate the rule of silence. Anyone could be a culprit, even (or mostly) into the highest spheres of society. Those who are worshipped in an agnostic way, they were on top of the social food chain and, perhaps even, on top of the drug chain. These elites have been very vocal about their will to suppress the almighty authority pro-heroes possess— feeling threatened for their own sake and their own inferiority complex, they were willing to play dirty to be able to rule the country with an iron fist.

The corrupted elites still remained as elites and enjoyed their mondane occupations— galas being one of them. It was a dream opportunity for you as a pro-hero, a room crowded with highly potential culprits served on a silver plate with a cup of champagne to serve as the cherry on the cake.

Stealth missions were highly dangerous if you didn’t have a cover good enough, and treading on the playground of influential people could possibly cost you your career as a pro-hero, but if you managed to succeed, you were bound to bask in glory. Keeping a realistic cover is the number one check on the list entitled “how not to blow up your whole mission and be hated by the rest of the country.” Luckily enough, your agence had already done all the dirty work for you and sent you everything you needed— a flawlessly cut evening attire, a shockingly well-done fake ID and a full file regarding the background of your character, all down to the tiniest details. And I cannot emphasize enough “all” the details...

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me…” Amongst the myriad of details (and some of them were completely unnecessary, I mean, was your favorite fruit really important?), one of them was impossible to ignore. “Shoto Todoroki, really?” His name rolled off your tongue for a reason, you were supposed to play his pseudo fiancée for the night. Your thumb brushed the surface inked with his name, unconsciously wishing that if you were brushing hard enough, his name would disappear and so would your almost wilted high school crush on him.

Your silent complains were cut short, the sound of someone knocking on your door stirred you from the invasion of your thoughts. Then the knocking sound echoed once more. “Just a second!” Has anyone heard of the concept of patience? Waiting a few seconds for someone to open the door isn’t a inhuman task. Eventually (although it could’ve have been funny to let this mysterious person fume because you purposefully took too long), you opened the door to your hotel room and it just felt like you had welcomed a storm in. Much to your surprise, there were two surprise guests, two U.A alumnis just like you— Shoto and Ground Zero.

“Well, shit, were you planning on letting us fucking die in the hallways, woman?! What the fuck took you so goddamn long, ha?” When I mentioned a storm earlier on today, I meant Bakugou Katuski— his annoyance was transcripted upon his face through the frowning of his eyebrows and the wrinkle sitting between them. “It’s good to see you too Bakugou, glad to see you missed me after all this time.” His hands were shoved in his pockets, clearly not keen on listening to your sarcastic remarks nor wearing a tuxedo for the night. “Tch. Keep your smart ass talk to yourself, dumbass.”

You had indeed let a storm invade your hotel room. But unbeknownst to you, you had also welcomed a hypotizing breeze, the polar opposite of Bakugou, and apparently future fiancé for the night: Shoto Todoroki. His facial expression reflected nothing but pure serinity, a signature stoic face which radically clashed with Bakugo’s scowl. Todoroki was so discreet, almost blending his presence with the newfound silence. He was wearing an evening suit of his own, aquamarine was his color after all, it was a known fact since your high school years.

“Y/N, as you may be aware, I am here for the stealth mission. Bakugou is going to accompany us just in case something goes wrong. It was a last minute change, but considering the household names who are going to attend this gala, too much precaution is better than not enough.” Ohh, so that was the reason why the angry gremlin was here. Although, you wondered how Shoto felt about the two of you acting as a fake engaged couple, was he still serene about that? “Yeah, while you two fake lovebirds will be busy eating each other’s faces off, I’m gonna be around to check if there is any intell on these anti-quirk selling bastards.” Each of his word was accompanied by a hand gesture pivoting between you and Shoto and, of course, the same old look of annoyance plastered upon his face. You and Shoto, on the other one hand, appeared a bit surprised at the use of “fake lovebirds”, it just hasn’t sunk in yet... Denial, perhaps?

“Speaking of kissing and shit— you, half and half bastard, do you still have a fucking stick up your ass or do you know how to act in a relationship?!” His interrogation was accompanied with a daring glance thrown in Todoroki’s direction and an eyebrow lifted just to emphasize the characteristic of his question a bit more. A bold question which immediately found its answer from the mouth of Todoroki, needless to say, you felt this remark coming. “Bakugou, you’re the last person here who could pretend having the knowledge necessary to provide relationship advices.” You couldn’t help but let a laugh escape at Todoroki’s remark highlighted by its bluntness, although you quickly changed your mind once you felt Bakugou’s stare landing on you with such rage causing you to hush your laugh by biting your thumb.

“Ha?! What the fuck did you just say, half and half bastard? Use that fucking mouth for yours for good measure and let’s see if you can kiss Y/N correctly. I won’t let this mission be blown up by your stupid ass.” This time, there was a hint of amusement in Bakugou’s voice, it was hard to distinct if he asked that because he truly cared about the mission or if he just wanted to push Todoroki out of his comfort zone. But the ghost of a smirk drawn upon his face seemed to support the second hypothesis.

“Guys, just a second here. I understand why we have to take care of our cover but it’s not like Todoroki and I are going to kiss all night long.” Your gaze alterned between Todoroki and Bakugou, it became impossible to hold your gaze on a fix structure due to how flustered you felt, and soon enough, your cheeks were quick to adopt a rosy tone. “Y/N, are you scared of kissing me by any chance?” You secretly hated the obvious tone of concern in Todoroki’s voice, he was willing to do anything to make this mission a success but also make sure you were comfortable around him. “N-No! It’s just… I don’t mind it.” What a miracle, you finally managed to look at him in the eyes but the blush on your cheeks was as lively as ever. “Then damn, if you don’t mind it just fucking kiss already we don’t have all night, dumbass.” You could tell by Bakugou’s body language that he was growing more and more impatient by the second, his arms were crossed over his chest— he was getting pissed.

Todoroki captured your attention once more when his index brushed the surface of your skin right below your chin while his thumb was carefully set upon your jawline. His orbs shone by their gleam of reassureance, his eyes met yours, as a silent way to ask your for permission and you fluttered your lids shut as an answer. As if it was some kind of second nature to him, his other arm compassed your waist in order to bring you close to him. His lips finally touched yours. Each one of his actions was so soft, you could barely feel them yet, you felt like you were floating on a cloud. His lips were melting ever so perfectly with yours, as if your lips were the sole one which could fit is, you couldn’t help but to hum as the carefulness of his lips overwhelmed you. The kiss was shy, experimental, and yet so agonizing. He was temptingly and agonizingly slow, which only made you crave for more. However, given the lack of oxygen, you had no choice but to (relanctutly) break the kiss. You opened your eyes and basked in Todoroki’s beauty, still in awe at what just happ—… “Oi! Have you ever kissed anyone before, Icyhot? Fucking hell, what was that?!”

Of course this was bound to be expected— the angry gremlin in his natural behavior. You and Todoroki exchanged a look which held a thousand questions before you felt your wrist being caught by a much warmer palm, and eventually, you were yanked straight into Bakugou’s chest (not that you were complaining.) “Open your damn eyes and look, this how you fucking kiss a woman, dipshit.” The sound of his voice roaring against your eardrum made you flinch in the nicest way possible. Bakugou naturally made himself at ease all while maintaining his gaze upon Todoroki who was looking at him in return with a noticeable disdain in his eyes.

Bakugou was challenging him in a way, he perfectly knew that Todoroki was observing his every move, hence why he took the liberty to let his palm roam over the curve of your derrière as a way to taunt him. However, the taunt didn’t last too long not to make you feel uncomfortable. He quickly settled one of his hand on the small of your back (to maintain you as close to him as humanly possible) whilst his other hand was set upon your neck. He didn’t waste any more time and went straight to business.

Bakugou’s kiss was, as expected, a vivid contrast compared to Todoroki’s kiss. While Todoroki’s felt hesitant, caring, sweet… Bakugou’s kiss was rough around the edges and his sole purpose was to make your knees weak. Once he crashed his lips upon yours, he immediately swiped his tongue over the surface of your bottom lip, demanding immediate access to your mouth. You knew better than to upset Bakugou so you pleased and allowed his tongue to explore your mouth— your tongue was at his mercy for a few instants before finding a steady rhythm for you two. His presence was overwhelming— his smell, how close you were to him with nowhere to escape, his mouth, his tongue, everything caused you to rightfully let a moan escape into the kiss. At the sound of it, Todoroki’s eyes widened while Bakugou smirked into the kiss, he knew he made a point. You, in return, started to tug at his blonde hair— the rough atmosphere of the kiss affected your actions as well. Just prior to breaking the kiss, Bakugou’s teeth dug into your bottom lip and applied a few pressures while you were looking at him with pleading eyes to continue. Once he got what we wanted, he ended the kiss with a surprisingly soft peck upon your lips.

With his hand still settled on the small of your back, Bakugou turned to Todoroki’s direction and offered him his biggest smirk to show his secret victory. You were left breathless by the kiss, a series of uneven hot breaths crashed down onto Bakugou’s skin.

If anyone were to walk in your hotel room, they would be able to feel and even touch the graduating tension in the air which almost felt agonizing. The tension was mostly radiating off of the two men, a silent battle for dominance had been declared through glances, holders of pure will to outbest the other.

Todoroki observed the scene on his chair, and unbeknownst to him, Bakugou had indirectly offered him the best seat in the room to watch the manifestation of his talents. An almost inaudible sigh left Todoroki’s lips which translated into a sign of discontentment. “Y/N, come here.” The tone was strict, cold even, and you felt obligated to do as told.

Detaching yourself from Bakugou’s embrace (you could tell he didn’t want to let you go judging from how his palm lingered on your back), you stepped away and made your way to Todoroki, a quizzical look noticeable in the reflect of your eyes. “What now?” You asked. Todoroki gestured to his lap and you knew what it meant, it was a speech without any word necessary.

Paradoxically enough, Bakugou stared at the scenery in front of him in pure silence, and although it was very unlike him, he was mimicking Todoroki’s actions earlier on- he wanted to witness how Shoto was going to respond to his own deeds.

You placed your hands over Todoroki’s shoulders to gain stability before sitting on his lap, it was a foreign feeling, but goodness, it was already addicting as hell and you were not interested in finding a cure. Both of Shoto’s hands crawled on the same spot where Bakugou’s hands used to linger just a few moments ago, you understood rather quickly that he was using his own methods against him. You were the center of Todoroki’s attention, his gaze graced your frame and he was loving the sound of your uneven breath, he wondered if he could make your respiration even more irregular.

He paid no mind to mind to the silent Bakugou who was already fuming in his corner as Shoto delivered a succession of pecks on the delicate flesh of your neck, and you tilted your head just enough to let him play on a wider surface. He traded the pecks for a few daring bites on certain areas, he needed to find your weak spot. “A-Ah... Shoto!” the sound of his name rolling off your tongue coated in such bliss was enough for him to curve his lips into a smirk.

It was a brief moment of peace before he dug his teeth on the same spot and you failed to prevent any whimpers from coming out by biting your lower lip. He knew you were restricting yourself, prisoning these beautiful sounds of ecstasy, and he didn’t like any of it. He focused on your lower lip and rubbed the oh so soft surface with the pad of his thumb to prevent your from biting it, and thus, keeping your sounds of pleasure to yourself.

“Don’t be shy, love. I’m pretty sure both Bakugou and I can agree on the fact that the little sounds you’re making are too divine to be hushed. Will you be a good girl and let us hear the sounds you’re making?” It was as if his voice was coated with honey, just his voice alone was enough to make you feel weak, and if you paid enough attention, you were pretty sure he purposefully blew a fit of cold air onto the skin of your neck. “Yes, please... I’ll be good, so good.” From that moment you knew you were at his mercy and he enjoyed every second of it. “You’re such a good girl for us.”

And so he continued, but it was rougher this time, a harsh contrast compared to his hesitant kiss from just a few moments ago. His teeth dug into the flesh of your skin harder this time, the sole purpose of leaving a mark on your crimson colored flesh was haunting his mind. To accomplish said purpose, Todoroki alternated between biting motions and a few swipes of his tongue on the newly bruised skin. The whimpers coming out of your mouth shamelessly only added fuel to his fire. He knew what he was doing, and you knew just how sensitive this particular area could get.

Once he judged it was enough, he delivered a few pecks on the love bites, a way to kiss his art into your skin. “You’re so perfect, love, so perfect with my name written over your skin.” He whispered between kisses. Your head was thrown back, fingers grasping at the roots of his hair, your mouth agape- your whole body language testified of the addictive effect he had on you.

Such bliss couldn’t last for long, and quickly enough, another voice was being heard, a roar even. “Oi, oi, oi! Don’t even think for a single fucking second that you can have her all to yourself, half and half bastard.” It was almost a miracle that Bakugou had observed you in silence, but as expected, patience was nowhere near his forte. He had already crossed his limit long before you sat on Todoroki’s laps. Bakugou’s eyes were strictly focused on your frame, he was completely under your spell after observing how your chest would rise and fall unevenly to grasp any ounce of oxygen.

Your knees felt weak already, you could only stare at Bakugou and silently ask him to continue, to make you feel even weaker, to make you experience pure bliss. You wanted to say his name, it was right on the tip of your tongue, but as you observed his figure reducing more and more the space between the two of you, you just admired him in silence.

“Hah? What’re you looking at, brat? You want more? Is that it? You want fucking more? Say no more.” You should’ve known that the wicked smirk plastered upon his face was a pre-indicator of what was bound to happen. He lifted you off of Todoroki’s lap, the latter frowned a bit at the lack of your presence on him, and carried you to the bed before dropping you on the mattress. Todoroki was quick to follow from behind and stood right next to Bakugou, his hands already busy taking off his jacket and unbuttoning the first button of his evening shirt. “I’m sure that Bakugou and I can find a little agreement. After all, we can share, correct?” Todoroki’s rhetorical question found its answer once Bakugou let a discreet chuckle escape from his mouth after throwing his jacket God knows where and messily undoing his tie. “We’re gonna take real fucking good take care of you, baby girl.”

You were refraining yourself from already touching you, it took all the strength in the world not to give in to the most passionate temptations. But deep down, you already knew you were bound to be overwhelmed by pure bliss judging by how they were looking at you. You could only hum in response, unsure of how your voice would have sounded under the heavy influence of desire.

Bakugou made the first move, after all, his poor soul felt left alone when Todoroki overwhelmed you with pecks and bites. He crawled over you, his knees were on each side of your waist, his hands however, assured total domination- his right hand clutched your wrists now pinned above your hand while his left palm settled by force on your throat, needless to say, the pressure was already applied on your windpipe. “You wanna’ play that game with me, hah?! Let Icyhot have all of you to himself and I got fucking nothing in return? Babygirl, I don’t watch, I fucking play.” It was too ferocious to be qualified as a whisper, and yet, when Bakugou pronounced the last bits of his sentence right in the shell of your ear, you felt like you were floating in pure bliss. “Answer me.” His grip on your throat felt a bit tighter. “P-Please... Ju-Just do whatever you want... With my body.” The lack of oxygen felt agonizing, you were deprived of fresh air and you were laying on the bed while Bakugou exuded pure confidence and domination, an aura so thick, you wished you could’ve touched it. “That’s my babygirl.”

As Bakugou’s lips crashed onto yours, forcing its tongue into your mouth while maintaining the right amount of pressure on your throat to offer you a panorama of new sensations, Todoroki had already gotten rid of his shirt. If you paid close attention, you could see shy flames on his shoulders, he was absolutely adoring the scenery unfolding before him. Everything about you filled his senses, the sight of you giving in to Bakugou was nothing short of divine, the whimpers leaving your mouth in cascade whether the reason was the lack of air or the fierceness of Bakugou’s intentions was the sweetest melody he had ever heard. Everything was perfect.

You felt the oxygen become one with your body again once Bakugou broke the kiss and allowed his hand to travel from your neck down to your chest, but his eyes were never leaving yours. He wanted to watch you come undone under his touch, he swore it to himself.

“I’ll take the bottom half. Icyhot, I don’t give a damn about what you do, just don’t fucking interrupt me.” His eyes were already set on the prize, your heat in all its glory. Shoto said nothing in response, you were the holder of all his undivided attention. As Bakugou took a firm grasp of your thighs, opening the way to his newfound purpose, Todoroki took over the top half of your body- he started by planting a succession of pecks from your lips down to your collarbone, passing by your neck, and each kiss was amplified by the cold air he was blowing on the surface of your skin. The contrast in temperature cause you to allow a few whimpers to escape, you already knew you craved for more, it was a way of manifesting it.

“You won’t need that, will you, love?” He said while pointing at your shirt, as his index was already hooking the fabric. It was a rhetorical question of course, you simply answered by humming. Your silent response was the only thing necessary for Shoto to send your shirt flying somewhere in the room. He continued his trail of kisses down to the valley of your breasts, the same cold air following him as he went.

Bakugou, on the other one hand, had already gotten rid off your skirt, but not before letting his palms explore the generous cheeks hidden underneath it, and eventually, leaving a slap right on this area which caused you to yelp in surprise. The pad of his thumb was already brushing against the surface of the fabric, oh what a pleasure it was when he felt the sensation of humidity coming through your underwear. A sensation so good, so addicting, so divine that it brought a sly grin to his face. “Already so wet for us, babygirl? You’re not wasting your damn time, hah?” Your skin was burning under his touch, you could already feel the chills running down your spine and he hadn’t even taken off your underwear yet.

Todoroki took the strap of your bra between his thumb and index, and much to your suprise, he used the right amount of his quirk to burn the fabric and applied the same treatment to the other strap. Before you could even protest about the poor outcome of your bra, he planted his lips on your own to keep you quiet. Now, he focused his attention to your breasts and the bits of clothing left which prevented the upper half of your body from being fully exposed. He took the opportunity given by Bakugou who had gotten rid of your underwear which made you arch your back to unclip your bra. There was nothing stopping him now. He let his gaze fell on you, so full of adoration, while he leaned down and caught the last piece of fabric remaining of your bra between his teeth. His eyes held so much envy, so much desires which reciprocated in the reflect of your own orbs.

Shoto threw your bra out of his mouth, and there you were- your body bare in all its glory. “Fuck, you’re so perfect...” He whispered right against your chest, causing you to let out a sigh you didn’t even know you were holding. He used his mother’s inherited side to trace the contour of your breasts, he knew he was going to earn a moan in return and he was so please to hear such a sinful melody at the clash of his cold fingers against your burning skin. His thumb and his index worked in harmony to twist the bud of your nipple and overwhelm it by Shoto’s cold touch while his tongue delivering hot saliva on your skin was already doing wonders on your other breast, a perfect balance between cold and hot which made your arousal erupt even more and someone was quick to notice...

“Oi, doll face, focus on me, not on this goddamn fucker. Don’t you feel so fucking good when I touch you like that, hah?” His burning jealousy amplified the voracity of his deeds. Every single one of his touch served the purpose of pleasuring you, but also outdo Todoroki’s touches. He needed to be the best at everything, including making you melt under his touch. You struggled to keep your eyes open, the desire to close your eyes and let your body attract all the attention while basking in pure bliss was too strong and yet, Bakugou’s voice roared into your mind, you couldn’t help but lay your eyes on him through half-closed lids.

Once he knew he was the bearer of all your attention, he put his body and mind to work. Both of his hands planted your thighs on each side of his body, you felt too weak to move under his touch and did not dare resist the pressure. You whined in advance because you knew what was coming- and boy, did he look good with his face buried between your thighs.

One long, sharp, vertical lick was all it took to let yet another moan escape your lips once more, and to Bakugou, it was the best reward. The heat of his tongue responded to the heat of your core, it was pure harmony. He licked the your core over and over again, tasting you, loving you, worshipping you even. One time he left lingering kisses to the side of your core, another time he was left licking motions all over your folds because your taste was the best thing he had ever felt. His motions echoed to your whines and moans, he was sure of hearing a sinful melody each time his tongue entered in contact with your skin.

“Keep making these noises for me, don’t be fucking shy.” His hot breath on the center of your heat embraced perfectly the succession of his actions, “Y-Yes... P-Please, I want... I need more.” Bakugou couldn’t help but let a low chuckle leave his lips, in response to your needy attitude, he left a harsh slap on the surface of your butt, to which you whined loudly in response. “Such a fucking filthy mouth you have there, hah?” He smiled to himself, knowing perfectly that what he was about to do was bound to leave you as a whimpering mess. Without any warning, he slid two of his fingers inside your core, and fuck, you were tight. His thumb was brushing against your sweet bundle of nerves which had already been cherished by Bakugou’s tongue earlier.

You clutched the sheets of the bed to release some of the buildup pressure inside, it was as if a tornado, a volcano and a firework were exploding at the same time in your stomach, each of them resulting in a series of whimpers and moans at the overstimulation. Your lids were shut close already, yet, they kept fluttering over the invisible crimson touches left by both Todoroki and Bakugou.

Speaking over Todoroki, he was tasting you in such a different way as he started to get the grip of Bakugou’s mechanic. His mind kept roaming and roaming, he knew that just one mark on your neck was not quite enough and he needed to beat Bakugou at his own game- he positioned himself right over your right breast and blew a fit of fresh air, causing him to smile at himself for being the reason of such a reaction, and dug his teeth into your flesh. Motivated by the the way you kept tugging at his hair, he kept biting the same area over and over again until sucking your flesh just enough to create yet another love bite over your breast, such an intimate area, isn’t it? And now his whole name was written on it.

“B-Bakugou... I can’t take it... Ahh! Anymore, please, please...” His fingers weren’t enough anymore, you were pleading his name, begging him to become one with you because you were unsure as to how you were going to keep the unleashed pressure within you ruin you. “So eager for my fucking cock, aren’t you?! You’re gonna count with me each inch entering your fucking cunt, got it?” You were willing to do anything at this point- Todoroki’s bites and his cold touch, Bakugou’s fingers and tongue, it made you fill dizzy but you knew, deep down, you were slowly approaching a pure state of bliss. “Yes... Yes I will.”

For his own purpose, Bakugou took his fingers off your core and flipped you on your stomach so you could be on all fours. You were giving him the view of worthy of a masterpiece: the crimson colored marks on your butt cheeks, the vivid rosy tone of your dripping core, oh he wanted all of you. “Love, don’t you forget that I’m here too, right? Open your pretty mouth for me.” You did as Todoroki preached, opening your mouth for him to stick his index in there. “Suck.” he commanded, to which you obliged by creating hollows in your cheeks and embrace his finger around your tongue, this feeling was beyond perfect, beyond the wildest fantasies his imagination had to offer. He could only let his subconsciousness roam about how his cock would feel around your perfectly pouted lips.

Bakugou’s hands gripped your hips tightly, his fingers turning white in the process while your flesh adopted a reddish tone in response. With the use of the pad of his thumb, he spread the pre-cum leaking all over his length, and so it began: the first inch. “One.”, it sounded more like an order than a statement, “...One.” you echoed, your response didn’t come quick enough to Bakugou’s liking, making you earn a harsh slap on your cheeks in return. Then another inch “Two.” , another faint sound coming from your lips “T-Two...”, yet another slap on your abused flesh. And so it went on, the process remained the same- another inch, another whisper escaping your mouth between sobs, another spank.

On the other side of the bed, Todoroki was stroking his own length at the sight before him. You were on the brim of tears, and Bakugou didn’t show any mercy regarding your current state. “I’m sorry, her mouth is going to be full soon, she won’t have room to count out for you.” Bakugou grunted in response to Todoroki’s taunt. His strokes became gradually faster, like a crescendo if you will. His other hand, however, was placed right underneath your jaw to give you some support and your mouth was already open in anticipation for what was bound to happen.

With his hand to keep your jaw steady, you welcomed Todoroki’s lenght into your mouth and he automatically let a groan as the tip of your tongue caressed his sensitive tip. You imagined how rewarding it must have felt for them to hear your own moans and whimpers because hearing Todoroki’s moan felt like a blessing to your eardrums.

Your tongue circled around his cock, your hand was pumping his length, and Todoroki wondered if this is what heaven looked and felt like. Your whimpers were hushed by the presence of his member in your mouth, but somehow, even these half silenced sounds of pleasure sounded even better to his ears. He felt his lids shut close under the miracle work of your tongue while his hand lingered in your hair to motivate you to keep going.

Bakugou, frustrated by this change of plans due to Todoroki’s own personal pleasure, slid the entirety of his phallus into you abruptly. The shock caused you to remove Shoto’s member from your mouth momentarily to catch your breath and release yet another whine before pleasuring Todoroki again. That came as a surprise to no one, not even Shoto himself, but Bakugou’s pace was rough and almost animalistic.

The sound of his testicles clapping against your flesh testified of the pace and yet, it felt so enticing. Bakugou was not so vocal, but he did leave his fair share of grunts as he buried himself into you more and more until reaching your cervix. It was too much, your core was burning, hell your whole body was on fire. The tears that threatened to fall had put their threat to execution, you knew you were close, the overstimulation was getting the best of you leaving you in a whimpering, trembling mess.

You continued to stroke Shoto’s length with your tongue, but his need to take control took over him. The same hand that rested in your hair suddenly took a firm grasp of your hair and he thrusted himself into your mouth and from there, his grunts became more repetitive. Truthfully, it was the only push he needed to bring him over the edge, the previous work of your tongue had put him under a spell. A spell he never wanted to wake up from. He knew what was coming, you felt it too but how the tip of his phallus was tickling your throat deeper and deeper.

Shoto didn’t even notice the small flames making their apparition on the blades of his collarbone, meaning that it was finally time for him to cum. He set your mouth free and hinted his length towards your chest, letting the drips of cum color your skin, and allowed the most magical moan to leave his already parted lips in satisfaction. “Love, look what you fucking did to me. You’re so beautiful, so beautiful with my cum all over you.” Your first instinct was to fill your lungs with oxygen, something so common yet it was cruelly needed. You looked through your lashes at Shoto with pleading eyes while he looked at you with a glimpse of adoration in his. His digit was carefully wiping the excess of cum leaking down your chin to place it right into your mouth. He could only stare in awe at the sight of you tasting him. He felt so full, and fulfilled. He was finally at peace, soaking in pure bliss.

The grasp Bakugou was holding over your hips became even harsher, which you though was impossible just a few seconds before. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He grunted, trying to keep his volume at bay by digging his teeth into his lower lip but it was all too much to be contained. He knew his climax was close, so close that he could picture it if he closed his eyes just for a second. Bakugou’s name fell on your lips like a forbidden prayer, his name had turned into the only thing you were able to say. “I-...Ah! Inside, inside, fuck, please...”, you felt a wave of pleasure taking over your body, a pleasure so intense, no word could have done it justice. Oh well, that was the sole indication he needed to hear before digging his nails into your sides, causing you to arch your back and bite the sheets, already preventing the cascade of whimpers from echoing in the room. “Fucking hell... Cum with me, now.”

With one last thrust, Bakugou came within you, his face was facing the ceiling as he came undone with you. His cum slid within you and in return, your body thanked him by letting your own juice flow all over his length.

Silence invaded the room. No more grunts, no more moans, no more cries. Pure silence inhabited by the uneven breaths of three protagonists who had just touched heaven by the tip of their fingers. Three victims of passion.

Bakugou pulled out of you, earning a whimper in return at the sudden feeling of vacuity. Your legs were shaking, and you secretly thanked every God for allowing you to stay relatively steady on all fours for this long and be able to endure the bestial-like pace of Bakugou. Needless to say, you were panting, you mouth was agape and you were crying for air. Your body immediately crashed onto the mattress, the soft feeling of the sheets enveloping your skin after reaching heaven made you feel as if you were floating on a cloud.

Bakugou and Todoroki shared a look, a small grin even, before crashing down onto the mattress next to you. You were unable to move, your mind was comparable to a wild blur as a result of your orgasm. A rush of words flew through your air but absolutely none of them was powerful and meaningful enough to qualify how you were feeling. At peace? No, not strong enough. Full? Nope, did not carry enough meaning. It was a unique feeling, worthy of all the praises in the world.

Todoroki draped an arm over your waist and left a trail of kisses upon the flesh of your shoulder, a silent way to thank you for allowing him to experience heaven in a rush. Bakugou, on the other one hand, was facing your back and allowed his index to draw invisible patterns on the skin of your back. Paradoxically enough, the silence carried more words and emotions than an actual speech. Until...

“So... Um, about the mission?”

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a-snow-decahedron · 3 years ago

Text

A Flower's Guide for Happy Endings - Chapter One

Spanish version: coming soon

Summary:

Flowey witnesses the aftermath of the human's journey across the Underground, and tries to make sense of his life now that he's not in control of the timeline. Will it last? Or will he take desperate measures?

Words: 3892

Read on AO3: Link here!

Flowey was still processing the last moments of his life as he left the human's side and watched them cross the Barrier, leaving the Underground behind. The child had chosen to give him mercy, time and time again. The nonsense of this action was so overwhelming, he fled. He didn't pay attention to his surroundings as he moved through the hallways of the King's Castle in New Home. He just kept going, emerging at times to look at a certain turn or wait for the right time to move his roots to another surface. It was almost a matter of reflexes to him. After so many resets, he felt like he could wander across the Underground with his eyes closed and he would know exactly where he was. Environments were something he wasn't able to change, at least not by himself. He didn't find the idea appealing, either. People were much more interesting to interact with... Until they weren't.

There was a wide range of things that could happen at any time in the Underground, and he had done pretty much everything. Some things never changed, though. The Amalgamates were never freed; it was more likely for Alphys to give up than for the truth inside the Lab to come out. Toriel never left the Ruins, no matter what you told her, or what happened outside the closed doors. Asgore never let him see the human souls, no matter how much he insisted. All his efforts were futile in a way, as none of it amounted to anything significant. All could be undone by his will, but not even those things he did held much meaning after a while. It was like watching the same simulation over and over again.

Flowey usually spent about a month or two at most messing around before resetting. In this timeline he had settled for waiting and not being an intervention as much as possible, until new days came by. It was incredibly boring, sadly. So he decided to do meaningless things to pass the time. Nothing much, not like pestering some Moldsmals ever achieved anything. He didn't kill, since that usually meant trouble, and the whole point of this was seeing a world without him. He also watched people he knew. Toriel carried on with her day; sometimes she fell asleep on her reading chair, with one too many cups of wine. Flowey may have given her some water one time, without a reason, simply to make an insignificant difference. Papyrus, a skeleton in Snowdin he had encountered after spying on the Royal Guard, was also an interesting monster to visit. He always had a remark or an anecdote for every place. He was full of such nonsense and contradictions, Flowey always got a laugh or two from his conversations. It was impossible not to play some tricks on him. Every once in a while he dropped predictions in their conversations, which the skeleton seemed to take very seriously at times.

And just when the timeline was starting to get too monotonous, he heard a loud noise on the Ruins, shortly after he had left checking on the flowers. That place.... it always reminded him of his sibling. Golden Flowers were their favorite. That day, at the Ruins, life took an unexpected turn: a human had fallen down, and with them, his control. Needless to say, he freaked out. Not only was this child a fallen human, they were just so much like them— but they couldn't be, could they? In the end. Flowey did what he knew best: got to know this human, acted nice, and then tested their reaction when he betrayed them. The stupid kid fell for his tricks, but Toriel stopped his movements, and took the child with her. The soulless monster, frustrated, tried to go back to his save point, yet he failed: another force was overwriting his mark in spacetime. From then, he decided to follow the human. and see what they did. Soon enough, he found out that the human was the one in control of the timeline, using it to get their way. Through the Ruins, the Snowdin cold, the dark Waterfall and the steaming Hotland, Flowey followed them, catching glimpses of their journey.

What came after the human spared King Asgore was a blur. His determination flowed in a chaotic way when he tried to reminisce about his attempt to take the human souls. It felt so good to have something within that wasn't just willpower fuel. He felt so good, so intense, so alive. That human kid was about to face his true power, to see what he was capable of doing. He had never met someone that could remember overwritten timelines like him, and he wasn't wasting his chance to make the most of it. But human souls are determined and that includes the six within him. They turned against him, and took him back to zero in moments. And then... well. He simply couldn't understand. His control was lost again. The human just needed one blow to finish him off, but they refused and crossed the Barrier. Why not even try? Why not give him the same pain? Why does it matter if he lives or not, anyways?

He was back in Snowdin town by the time his inner monologue had gone full circle, all caused by the human who’d come and gone in what felt like a mere blink. By the time he got to the town it was early night, the time many monsters had dinner. Snowdin had a system of streetlights that was usually too high for non-flying monsters to reach. They were powered by the CORE, and to tell apart day and night, they had set a gradual energy-saving mode that reduced the amount of lights during the night, synchronized with the time on the Surface. The lights were said to resemble stars. Real stars were prettier, but it did the job well enough for the thousands of monsters that had never seen the Surface.

Flowey was standing on a residential street, still muttering to himself, looking at the houses' windows filled with light and the smell of homemade food. He wasn't quick enough to hide after hearing a muffled voice and a door being bumped open. A yellow striped kid, holding a bag of trash with their mouth and on their way to the trashcan, gasped at Flowey and dropped the bag on the snow.

"The talking flower's real?!" They opened their eyes wide, like they had seen the surface. As Flowey tried to curl underground to leave, the monster child spoke. "Yo, don't leave! Papyrus told me about you!"

At the mention of the name, the soulless flower hesitated, then turned around "Howdy! I'm Flowey the flower.” He forced a grin. "And just what has he told you?" he asked, slightly squinting.

"Well..." The kid stared at a point beyond Flowey, thinking of their answer. "We just met today! I mean, I've seen him before, but we never, like, talked. I was on my way back to Snowdin after I left the human in Water— yo, did you hear a human showed up in town today? It's crazy!" They hopped excitedly, shaking their tail happily.

Flowey raised a brow and waved with one of the roots he pulled from the ground, signaling the kid to keep talking. He supposed hearing some gossip was good enough for now, until he figured out what to do now, or found a way to gain his control of the timeline again.

"I didn't know they were human at first, but man, they were so nice! I showed them some caverns in Waterfall on our way. I was so excited to see Undyne fight bad guys! But it turns out they, uhm, were the bad guy Undyne was going after?" They trailed off, looking for a way to follow their story. "She told me that the human was bad, that i could get hurt. And she tried to attack them! But they saved me so they can’t be bad! I had to show her! Yo I dunno what came over me, it felt like my heart was pounding out of my chest. But I told her, s-she would not. I was really scared, but I think it worked! And then I... left them to go home because my parents would worry if I was out late", they mumbled the last part, feeling their rush of energy decrease.

Flowey shot them an impatient glance. "Ok, got you. But when does Papyrus show up in all this?"

"Oh yeah! Right! We met when I was on my way to Snowdin. He said some things about using friendship for his duties as a future royal guardsman, and then we talked about Undyne. He said she is training him to be part of the guard- it sounds so cool! I wanna be just like him one day!" They hopped on one foot. "Then... I asked him about the friend stuff he said, and he told me he didn't have many friends, but Undyne was really close. And then he spoke of a talking flower, that had like, prediction powers. He said you gave encouragement, advice and stuff. I didn't think you were real, but man, was I wrong."

"Is that it?" Flowey raised a brow, getting tired of the kid's chatter. Maybe someone else would have liked talkative friends, but he had enough for that day, and frankly he just wanted to get healed. All the talking was making him dizzy.

"Yeah! It has to be you, right? Man, if we become friends I would break my friend-making record. Three people in one day! Yo this is so great." Their tail moved from side to side.

Flowey yawned, feigning sleepiness "Hey kid, it's nice talking, but don't you have anything better to do?" He pointed to the trashbag with his body.

"Oh right! I forgot. Thanks dude!" they said, picking up the bag with their teeth and walking to the trashcan on the sidewalk.

"Yeah, you don't want to get in trouble, right? I don't think your parents are very happy you went too far into Waterfall on your own with some stranger."

Flowey shrank a bit to appear smaller as the child walked towards him. "Before you leave, I need something. Do it for your new friend, wontcha? Can you get me a snack? I got in a friendly fight and my HP isn't the best right now. I could use some help." He pulled the most innocent smile he could, which was always convincing.

"Ok! Be right back, yo!" They dashed to their house and came out a minute later, pulling two cinnamon bunnies from their inventory and almost dropping them on the floor.

Flowey picked them up with his roots and saved them on his own inventory with a poof. "Thanks, kid!"

"Yeah, no problem Flowey!" They paused and then added "Yo, I forgot to tell you my name, it's M—" Before they had finished their sentence, the flower was gone, like it was never there.

As Flowey moved under the snow, he didn't notice the recent footsteps or the furry monster that made them as they made their way towards the Riverperson place.

Flowey emerged at the side of the skeleton brothers’ house, careful not to be seen. He took a cinnamon bunny, took a bite, and then tried to rest. Sleeping as a flower wasn't easy. It wasn't like laying down in a bed. He technically didn't need to sleep, as long as he had energy from the lights around him or food. As a plant, the most he could do was fold his petals on his face, and find a place where the wind wouldn't bother him and nobody would step on him by accident. Despite this, if he wanted to recover from his injuries, he needed to rest in order to restore his HP.

Flowey was making himself comfortable —as much as he could in a town like Snowdin—, when he heard a door shut strongly on the second floor of the house. It seemed people were at home. He moved closer to eavesdrop on them, but it wasn't necessary, as the speakers were loud enough on their own.

"So... I'm staying here tonight, right? Until I fix my house."

"YOU'RE ALWAYS WELCOME TO STAY HERE, BUT YES, WE'LL FIGURE OUT WHAT TO DO ABOUT THE HOUSE TOMORROW!"

"When do you think the human's coming back? Do you think they'll stay at the inn?

"IT'S WHAT I EXPECT, BUT MAYBE THEY WENT TO NEW HOME AND FOUND SOMEWHERE ELSE TO SLEEP? THEY HAVEN'T CALLED SINCE THEY GOT TO THE CORE."

"They better not be hanging outside late or they'll get in trouble with me."

"WHAT IF THE HUMAN'S NOCTURNAL?”

"Who knows? Not ME at least. Anime says all kinds of things that don't make sense when you put them together, like in some of them, some humans have cat ears, but in others that's not possible. At least they should have something cooler, like fins!"

"OR BONES! HMM, BUT WE CAN ONLY GUESS. PERHAPS THEY ARE NOCTURNAL, I HEARD HUMANS HAVE SOMETHING CALLED TIMEZONES. MY BROTHER TOLD ME ABOUT IT WHEN WE WERE TALKING ABOUT THE SUN..."

At that point Flowey stopped listening. Those two went over several topics, and whenever they didn't know something, they made it up with their theories. It was amusing in the first dozen resets, but by now Flowey had exhausted all possible topics with each of them...

Suddenly, he heard something that was new to him.

"SO UNDYNE, I SEE YOU ARE CARRYING A LETTER? IS IT FOR SOMEONE SPECIAL?" Papyrus inquired, teasingly.

A letter? Flowey had seen many letters. Several had been addressed to Dr. Alphys. He wondered why the fish monster would have one too.

"WHAT? Well, I don't want it to get damaged in case I burn down the house on accident again— BUT NOT FOR ANY SPECIAL REASON, it's just a silly thing I keep with me."

"WHO IS IT ADDRESSED TO, THEN?"

"Uh...."

"WILL YOU LET ME READ IT?"

"Absolutely NOT! It's personal!"

"SO IS IT FOR ALPHYS..." A pause. "YOU DID NOT DENY IT. SO WHY DON'T YOU JUST CALL HER, DELIVER IT, AND SEE HER REACTION?" There was the sound of a phone being unlocked. "I'LL DO THE PHONE CALL!"

"Papyrus, no! I need to rewrite it, it's not done yet! Give me the phone, darn it!" There was another pause. "Ok, thanks. Besides, she's probably busy fixing Mettaton right now. Did you see his new body? And BEFORE you make any remark on how hot or handsome he is, DON'T." Nyeh-heh-heh’s were heard in response. "Anyways, she must be busy, and I don't think I can just show her this letter. I'm afraid things could go wrong— I wouldn't know what to do!"

"FINE, BUT IF YOU EVER NEED ADVICE, LISTEN TO ME. YOU NEED THAT KIND OF BRAVERY IN YOUR LIFE" A clicking noise like a wink was heard.

"NGAAAH- shut up!" She lowered her voice. "Hey, if you don't mind, can you leave while I change my clothes?"

"OF COURSE, I STILL HAVE SOME OF YOUR CLOTHES FROM THE LAST TIME YOUR HOUSE BURNT DOWN. I'LL GIVE YOU PRIVACY."

"Thank you, now GET OUT." The door was closed. Strong pacing could be heard for a few minutes, before the window opened with a harsh movement and small shreds of paper were dropped one by one, “I really can't do it,”she muttered “It's too much. I'll make a better one soon. That will be the one.”

The humidity of the snow would soon leak into the remains of the letter and erase its message, never to be read by anyone. Well, not anyone who was meant to read it anyways. Flowey leaned closer and used a root to pick up a part of the letter. It took him five endearment terms and three uses of the verb love to know it was an excessively corny confession directed at the Royal Scientist.

It seemed almost atypical for the fish monster. However, Flowey knew better. During some of his runs he had experimented with the Royal Guard, testing their strengths and weaknesses. Undyne was a particularly difficult monster to deal with. Once you became her enemy, she would strike you down no matter what. Her green soul magic forced any monster under its effect to stay still and only use its own magic bullets as protection. Flowey, being soulless, was not affected by this kind of magic, but that still didn't make fleeing much easier. He had killed her the first time they faced each other, after dying to her several times. That had been the first timeline he decided to kill, throwing bullets at some of the weakest known monsters. Undyne had been furious, and decided to find the culprit and bring them to justice. When Flowey did manage to kill her, though, she resisted. With her last breaths, she kept on fighting, refusing to die. Her last words were dedicated to every monster in the Underground she swore to protect, and as she melted, she regretted never "telling it to Alphys". He had figured out what it was by other sources. The letter was just further confirmation.

No other monster had shown such determination to keep going, and those words rang in Flowey's head. Somehow, the possibility of making someone be honest about their feelings towards something —or someone else— made him particularly curious. He had tried to help her, more than once, but no attempt had been successful. He kept trying for a few more runs. Undyne's resilience reminded him of his own sibling. He thought that maybe staying determined and reaching, helping, and fixing things would... do something. Perhaps he had to be more like them, more like Chara. But he was hopeless now. Nothing he did ever lasted, nothing he did made him feel right.

"Hurts, doesn't it? Some things never change. She writes letters but she will never do anything with them." He dropped the letter and went back to rest for what was left of the night, hoping to restore his HP.

* * *

The "Riverperson'' was never just one monster. There were three of them. Their family had been passionate about sailing for decades; some said they had the reputation even before the war, and ever since monsters found a stream that connected all areas, the River family had dedicated itself to provide quick travel to everyone in the Underground. When it was nighttime, and most monsters outside were nocturnal creatures, only one of them was around. They gazed at the Snowdin port. All three siblings had great intuition, and that night, they agreed, was bound to be interesting.

"Greetings. Would it be possible to make use of your service tonight?" a soft voice asked.

The river monster turned to face the source of the voice and saw a tall white furry monster. They resembled most inhabitants of the small town, with a thick layer of fur covering their features. But something about their presence radiated a sense of grace. A good River monster made no distinction among their travelers, so they simply pointed to the empty space on their boat.

"Tri li li, where would you like to go?"

"Take me to Hotland, please,” the monster said calmly

The Riverperson took off with their only passenger for that ride.

It was late, but despite the time, a few nocturnal monsters could always be found wandering the streets, among the low-glowing lights. The sight of the new monster immediately sparked rumors, catching the attention of the few awake. From the forest, a Whimsun flew, carrying news from the Ruins. The great door deep in Snowdin forest had been opened, and its caretaker was making their way to the capital. Young monsters were perplexed by the story, but older, wiser ones knew this meant great incoming change for the whole kingdom. Nobody knew for certain what had become of Queen Toriel after the deaths of her children, but it seemed that the words carried by the small flying monster could be the solution to the century old mystery. Soon enough, word was spread in the snowy town among the elders. They were careful and cautious, not to make quick assumptions, but staying alert.

The ride across the cave system had not been long, but it certainly felt like eternity, even for a monster with such a long life as Toriel. She was worried sick, wondering whether the human child had been harmed. As she set foot on Hotland, and waved the Riverperson farewell, the feeling of unease only increased. She did not know where the child had gone. All the monsters she had spoken to had little to no information, seeing as they weren't awake during the day, and therefore hadn't seen anything worth noting. However, as Toriel walked through the dry roads, she noticed flyers, all related to a human kid that had been spotted in Hotland, as a guest on the Underground's greatest celebrity's shows. She walked faster, hoping to reach New Home soon. Time felt so slow, each step lasting a small eternity in her anxious mind.

By the time she had reached the castle, the artificial lights were starting to get brighter. She was determined to reach her destination. She could not allow Asgore to take another soul, and she was going to stop him herself if she had to. She would not let another child be hurt by him. Her steps covered longer distances, as she walked across the familiar hallways. Her breathing was fast, and her paws felt heated with anxiety, small fire bullets dancing around her fingers. She paid no mind to the monsters that walked around her, except to ask about the king once: a tall catlike monster indicated that the king was last seen at the throne room last evening, but was not seen leaving the place ever since. As she approached the throne room, an odd feeling made her magic shiver. There was no sight of the King.

She walked in, careful not to step on the golden flowers that decorated the room. In a way, both of them had remembered their children using those flowers. She shook the thought out of her mind, and she went across the room to a smaller entrance. That room had a single orifice at the ceiling, letting the first rays of the morning sun go through. No sign of the King, either.

She feared the worst.

She prepared her fire attacks.

She breathed deeply.

She stepped into the room that led to the Barrier.

She dropped her attacks, which disappeared in an instant.

Before her was a crown, and an armor covered in a purple cape. Dust on the floor, and an ear-ringing silence. A gardening knife was a few feet away.

This was the day the Underground's King had perished.

This was the day a human made it out of the monsters' world alive.

This was the day things would change forever for their kind.

The Queen took the crown. Her expression was solemn, and she braced herself to make the announcement known to everyone in the Underground.

"King Asgore has died."

#undertale #ut fanfiction #fic #ut fanfic #ut fic #flowey #toriel #undyne #papyrus #monster kid #geometric thoughts

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creativia10 · 3 years ago

Text

First Wip: Dukeceit Vs

Summary: Vigilante Janus has to deal with the chaos that is the newest villain wreaking havoc. Yet they both find themselves drawn to one another.

Notes: I decided to go ahead and try posting some of these unfinished wips. This was actually one of the first fics I attempted to write after deciding I wanted to try and participate in Dukeceit week. I actually really liked this one. I think my original intention was for this to be for the Free day (although I ended up getting a lot of Dukeceit ideas that didn't fit into the prompts). I can see myself getting back to it eventually. Sorry for the abrupt cutoff it ends with at the moment.

Pairing: Janus x Remus

Word count: 2014

Warnings: implied background violence? , innuendos (implied kink), sexual tension

Janus nearly had to swerve as he felt his weight shifted into the wall of the building he was next to.

Well this was new.

Once he got his bearings, he carefully righted himself, testing that the ground was no longer shifting underneath him, and carefully made his way out of the alley he had changed in, still using the wall as a railing in case some other natural shift occurred. He peered out of the alley carefully, working into the natural suaveness his vigilante costume normally gave him.

The city…looked like a mess. He almost couldn’t begin to describe it. Roadways were shifted about, all sorts of objects were around in a disarray as though blown there. There were simultaneous evidence of flooding and fires. Janus had never before seen such a catastrophic mess left around. He wouldn’t have believed such a thing was there if he weren’t seeing it with his own eyes.

He sighed, and carefully stepped about to find the source of all this chaos. It didn’t take long for him to hear a maniacal cackle.

“Oh what fun!”

A man dressed in all black with accents in various outlandish neon colors was floating in the middle of the city, over what looked like swirling ground debris?

He was looking about, seeming to laugh at people’s reactions to the mess he had made. Attention at things such as people trying to fix wind ruined hair, and turning around as though dizzy in disbelief. He didn’t even seem to notice Janus at first.

Janus stepped up to him and cleared his throat.

“I’m not sure why I expected anything else, “ Janus said dryly. Of all things to say first to the new chaos.

The source of chaos turned to face Janus, and tilted his head, an unhinged twinkle to his eye before suddenly his earth twister collapsed and he landed right on the ground. There was an unpleasant sound as he landed, but the man didn’t seem phased as he looked over Janus. He had strange vibrant eyes, that gave Janus a radioactive feel.

“Hmm, you the goodie here to kill my buzz?”

Janus scoffed. “Gosh no. Do I look like a bright colored government ken doll? I clearly have way more class than them. I’m just someone who wants to make sure my life doesn’t get swept up in whatever craziness this is, and have the means to do so. I’d liked to see the end of the day, and I surely expected the road being twisted into a column is not going to be helpful to getting me to work tomorrow.”

The other just stared at him for a moment before he snorted.

“Ah, that’s a good one. See…I’m not done so,” He shrugged and went back to pointing around and zapping strange bouts of nature around the city.

“Are you even putting thought into what you’re doing?” Janus asked as he slyly brought himself closer.

“Or are you just doing your best to be an annoying menace to me?”

“Hmm,” he tapped his fingers to his lips, weird bits floating around.

“I mean, I didn’t have a particular plan, but I guess annoying you is a bonus.”

Just before Janus could pull out one of his weapons, a water tentacle slunk up from out of nowhere, and pulled him towards the black clad menace, wrapping him up and restraining him. The other laughed.

“Ah, now let’s have a looksy here.”

He walked around and seemed to be taking in Janus. Janus struggled and tried to get out of the hold, surprised there was such a firm pressure and that it was hard to break hold off. He wrinkled his nose when he got a whiff that suggested this water was not the cleanest.

“Hmm,” the villain was much closer now. Janus continued to struggle, glaring at the other, who simply smiled at him.

“Ok, “

Janus rolled his eyes. He concentrated, and Remus jumped at the unexpected slithering sensation around his ankle, which helped release Janus from the water hold.

Remus looked down to see the yellow and green snake there.

“Ah, you can summon snakes. Neato.” He then reached backward and got hold of Janus’ wrists before he could use the other snake like fanged object and surprisingly brought Janus up against his back, but he held the strength.

“Oh, snakey, if you wanted to wrap me up to bind me so badly, you only needed to ask.”

Janus grimaced and tried to break out of Menace’s hold, who in turn spun him around and pressed Janus back to his front this time. Menace made a sound somewhere between a growl and a purr.

“I say, I rather like you against me.”

Janus’ eyes widened, suddenly very aware of just how warm Menace’s body was against his. He tried to get ahold of his breath, struggling for a comeback.

“What, no quip back?” Menace asked, sounding far too pleased with himself.

Janus huffed out a breath and tried his other trick again.

“Oh, that’s not going to work on me, dear.” Menace said, even when snakes wrapped around his ankles.

“You’re not concerned about them being venomous?”

“You would kill me?”

“I’m a vigilante, I play by my own rules.”

“That wasn’t an answer~,” Menace sang. “And I’m sure this would be less fun if I died.”

“Who said anything about fun? That’s your thing.”

“Mhmm~. Sure.”

He leaned in some to whisper into Janus’ ear,

“Isn’t there a thrill to being close to a rival whose intentions you don’t know?”

For some reason, the way he said that gave Janus shivers. He quickly tried to think of something else he could summon to get him out of this position before he completely lost his composure.

“Aha!” A familiar voice cried.

“Release the snakey villain, you new fiend.”

However, the obnoxious ‘hero’s’ entrance gave Janus the distraction he needed. Janus stamped on Menace’s foot and elbowed him enough to be able to get out of his grasp. He turned to face him, eyes flashing.

Menace simply laughed.

“Oh.”

“Your villainous deeds have now come to an end now that I-“

Janus shot a gag at him.

Menace cackled.

“Didn’t expect you to do that.”

“He’s annoying.”

The hero wrestled the gag out and stamped his foot.

“Hey! I am trying to save the day!”

“Mhm, and I’m trying to cut down a pest, so out of my way.”

“As if I would let the sly likes of you determine your own moral law on how we retain the bads of this city!”

“Oh blah blah blah, gosh, does he always blather on like this?”

“Indeed.”

The hero gasped in offense.

“Anyways, I really did not come here to fight two people today. So if you’re determined, I’m gonna head out. “

“Aww, but you’re probably more fun to fight!”

Janus just stated at Menace for a moment.

“What?”

Menace laughed, and then zoomed away on another earth twister.

“Aren’t you gonna go after him?” Janus asked the hero.

“But first-“ the hero started.

Janus rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” He threw a smoke bomb and left before the hero could turn that into another needless battle, like he tended to do.

Janus wasn’t sure what he expected to come of that, but it wasn’t what ended up happening. For one, apparently Menace, as Janus had mentally dubbed him, was better at getting away than he thought. Janus wouldn’t put it past the hero’s incompetence either though, but it really wasn’t his business as long as the pest was done. Recurring villains, unless they were really powerful, were actually not a common thing where they were. Usually the villain would end up in jail. The hero, despite being annoying and over the top, was powerful, like a more dramatic superman. It was annoying often, say when Janus clearly had it against a villain, or the hero suddenly decided to fight him since his deeds were not always the most legal. Nevertheless, a villain being a child about who they wanted to fight was not common. For one thing, usually it was just the hero who fought the bad guys. Janus didn’t always go out of his way since he didn’t consider himself to be a universal do-gooder or anything like that.

Yet, this ‘Menace’ would show up at different parts of the city, bringing about his usual chaos, and almost actively ignored the hero. It was strange. Janus, begrudgingly, felt he needed to step in. The hero didn’t work well with others, or maybe he was just a nightmare to ‘work’ with.

Janus had barely gotten his costume on in the alleyway when he felt a strong wind pulling him out.

Gosh. That was too close.

Menace was standing in front of him, on the ground this time, with his earthy twister behind him.

“Heyy there, snakey. I’ve been waiting~.”

Janus raised an eyebrow at him, despite it likely being covered by his mask.

“Is that so?”

“Mhmm!” The villain leaned forward on his toes, unnaturally keeping his balance, probably from wind powers or something. Janus couldn’t help but lean back some.

“I was getting bored~.”

“That seems to be your whole ordeal, hm? You get bored. I get tired, yet I’m still here.”

Menace snorted.

“See, this is what I mean. You’re fun to talk to.”

“Yes, because snarky rival banter totally counts as talking.”

“Well, it is for me. “

Remus then spun around in his twister that seemed to stretch away.

“Come and catch me!” His voice rang off.

Janus groaned and started to trudge in that direction, trying to decide what he could summon to assist himself. He hadn’t summoned many large objects of transportation, but maybe he could find something to up his speed.

“You! He-“

“Yeah, I know, sir super hero. He seems to want to play with me, I will have to deal with it.”

The hero paused for a moment. “Is there anything I can do?” He asked hesitantly.

Janus smirked at him. “Not that I can think of. You seem the type to care about protecting the people so” Janus waved his hand, and went back to his task. He didn’t get very far before he was thrust into his next obstacle, a sink hole suddenly sucking him into the ground. Janus quickly summoned a grappling hook and hooked it onto the surface so he was dangling, but no longer falling. There was an echo of Menace’s cackle. Janus sighed as he swung himself up and landed smoothly. He looked around and saw he was in a different part of the city.

“Oo.”

Janus heard little clapping.

“That was a neat trick. I got to see you in many different angles. Very fun for me.”

Janus gave him an unimpressed look, before carefully looking around.

“Where is everybody?”

“Oh, probably deserted. I’m not very quiet.”

He slid up to Janus, on some sort of sliding ground formation.

“I think I’d rather have you all to myself anyways~” He said with a whole body wiggle.

Janus made a face.

“Why do you keep doing that?”

“Hmm?”

Menace suddenly got closer.

Janus took a step back, hand curling for something, but he struggled to wrack his mind of something that he could actually use against the walking natural disasters.

“Th-the comments, to me.”

Janus cursed to himself at the stutter.

‘“Hmmm” Menace tilted his head until there was an unpleasant creak.

“Cause. It’s fun, and I like you.”

Janus paused and stared at him in bewilderment.

“What?”

Menace giggled at that and then suddenly they were against a wall. Janus let out an oof, as his back hit a bit roughly. It didn’t help that the other man was against him.

“Ya know, I gotta say, I’m not the type who’s into pain,” Janus croaked before he could stop himself.

Menace frowned and took a small step back.

“Er, sorry…I got ahead of myself. I didn’t actually hurt you did I?”

Janus narrowed his eyes at the other, a bit

#sanders side fic #dukeceit #ts janus

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project-ohagi · 5 years ago

Text

Keigo Takami ღ Hawks x Reader

Buy me a coffee!! <3

"Do you have a name, or can I call you mine?" As that melodic tone, tarnished by the slightest hint of desperation, pierced your bubble of peace, you recoiled in both irritation and disbelief.

This was way above your pay grade, and not something you wished to burden your daily life. Alas, this man, who you were forced to concede was devilishly handsome and may have incited a tiny blush upon your cheeks, was your new boss. The fault in his over-confidence was that it led to unsavoury situations such as this, where his flirting was in no way appreciated or reciprocated. Couldn't he train himself to tone it down a little? You wondered if being under his command meant you were considered fair game - for him alone, of course. Well, you were only able to sigh on the inside. After all, you had chosen to work at this prestigious agency. The memory of why this particular profession had appealed above all else, still evaded you. In actuality, the crimson-winged menace standing before you was the reason; he had scouted you out-of-the-blue, when he caught you moonlighting as a vigilante. There wasn't a hope in Hell he was allowing you to rot away in a jail cell, and hence he had made an unexpected proposition.

He had offered you the mantle of Secretary, and, fearing the repercussions, you had accepted, cursing the heart that thundered relentlessly with each uncharacteristic quiver of his voice. It might have amused you to tease him, but despite it being a recent incident, you weren't nearly as well-versed, especially not when confronting such an ethereal...eh - such a revered Pro.

That recollection haunted you, but also willed you to snicker. The longer your silence dragged on, the harder it became to alleviate the tense atmosphere. You didn't really care - as much as it annoyed you, you were growing accustomed to his flirtations. It bothered him, though. That was obvious. Maybe you could mess with him today, just for a little while. It shouldn't be anything too serious, otherwise you would instil false hope, and you didn't wish that even on your worst enemy. Some inkling of romance was budding inside your chest, but you still figured that Hawks needed to learn his place. Or earn one by your side. You required him to put a lot more effort in, either way.

You stepped closer, warm breath caressing his ear. From the way his wings rustled, you could tell that he was pleased, but also apprehensive, as he waited for you to do something...anything!

"Hmm...but I like your last name more. Can I have it?"

He took a moment to short-circuit, before stuttering out a response. "I-If you m-marry me!"

You laughter seemed to rain down upon his peasant ears like a Siren's song. "Wow, lost your composure already, Hero?"

It was his turn to drown in disbelief. How had your sexiness spiralled so out of control, in mere days? If you maintained this same level, he wouldn't last - not without acquiring a sexual harassment suit. He honestly didn't want to come on to you, in the absence of explicit permission, but you were far too tempting. What if someone grabbed you before he did? He couldn't even begin to imagine not being the one to place gentle kisses upon your lips, or unmistakable marks on your neck, to show the world exactly who owned your heart. Why did you have to make things so very complicated? So very...hard? An uncomfortable, yet familiar, tightness in his lower region snapped him back into reality. His face burned crimson, like his wings, which had turned inward on account of his flush and the fluttering of his heart.

There was no comeback waiting on the tip of his tongue, no witty remark about how much you actually loved him or how amazing of a couple you would be. He had nothing. When was the last time his collected façade had been challenged this much? By a woman, no less - a vigilante, a Secretary, a...a love interest. He always listened to your heartbeat, to check for fluctuations when he talked, when his name was mentioned, but you either had exceptional control over it, or you really didn't reciprocate his feelings. The latter had to be a lie, of course, which spurred on closer inspections. Once, he heard the subtlest leap of your heart, and his felicity refused to be quelled for days on end. He adored you. Did you think he was joking with all the pick-up lines... with all the compliments?

Well, he certainly wasn't. Would you ever understand that, or even care? And...was your generally-unyielding apathy the reason he had resorted to such desperate means as hiding marriage registration forms (complete with his signature) amongst your papers?

Yes.

Yes it was.

Needless to say, you didn't take kindly to what you assumed to be a prank. After that, you wouldn't grace him with your presence for hours. It was absolute torture! He couldn't live so long without you! Why do you think he tailed you, whilst you ambled back to that too-small apartment? Oh...you didn't know? Maybe it should remain that way. Hawks had started to fantasise about uprooting you, creating a nest in his house, and just lazing around with you, whispering words of eternal love. You would find solace, cradled in his wings. You would feel protected. He could protect you, guard against all your demons, real or otherwise. Were you willing to let him devote his entire life to you, to worship your very being as divine?

Without warning, you trailed a finger up his clothed chest, tapping ever-so-lightly on the yellow diamond. "If you want to get with me, you'll have to lose that."

"The shirt?" He asked, a sliver of confidence returning, if only to impart two words.

"The symbol." Your expression held amusement - the Number Two Hero was like putty in your hands, and you relished every second.

"I don't play with government toys."

Once more, you rendered him speechless. And as you walked, he could do nothing but stare longingly at your retreating form, all willpower fading. He barely even registered your next words, he was so flustered.

You stopped, curling your fingers around the door-frame, and glancing back at him with doe-like eyes. "I'll call you when I feel like playing house."

And with a wave, you disappeared from view. Hawks' response was late, hushed and soaked in innocence.

"...You promise?"

[Word Count: 1086]

#my hero academia x reader #bnha x reader #bnha hawks #hawks x reader #keigo takami x reader #my hero academia imagines #crack #fluff #bnha hawks x reader

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jaskiersvalley · 4 years ago

Note

your writing is so addictive, i absolutely adore your beautiful portrayal of jaskier and his witchers! genuinely can't get enough, and you inspire me to continue my witcher WIPs so thank you for that !! hope you have a great day xox

This has to be one of the loveliest, most heartwarming messages I’ve had. Catch me out here with my pompoms and cheering you on to keep going with you WIPs! You’ve got this! Those WIPs will turn into finished, wonderful pieces soon. To cheer you on, have a little modern au ficlet <3

How Geralt ended up in banking of all things was beyond him. He had been on the fast track to becoming a wash-up, a gang member that was either killed in a turf war or sent to prison for dealing drugs. Then he’d been plucked from the system and put into a home with two other boys in a similar predicament. And, somehow, Vesemir had achieved the impossible and turned out three very respectable members of society. Well, respectable on the surface of it. Geralt, much like Lambert and Eskel had been given options when they came of age. Until then it was all about making sure they caught up with their education and had enough knowledge to make choices. Then they could go their way with the knowledge of having a loving, supportive family behind them. Or join the family business. Needless to say, they all joined.

On the surface of it, they worked in a bank that took on exclusively rich customers, grunt work for the most part, helping the clientele open up accounts. While Eskel tended to have the cases sent his way that needed a more gentle touch, Lambert had the money grabbers and greedy idiots. Which left Geralt with the hedge-fund babies and those with more money than sense. His general demeanour tended to help make those interaction go quicker and without confrontation than with the other two. That was what the world at large believed they did and, technically, they did do exactly that. It was the extra on the side that only the family knew about. Embezzlement took a gentle touch and careful planning between several people. There was a reason all three of them worked together. They were a team. A very very rich team and the bank they worked at was where they hid all their funds and guarded the family accounts.

Geralt’s next appointment was with a Mr. Julian Pankratz (Viscount). Charming. He did so hate people who insisted on using their titles at all possible turns. The person entering his office was not at all what Geralt had been expecting. This was a young man of indeterminate age, wide eyed and yet full of mischief. It wouldn’t have surprised Geralt if there was an edge of malice to it.

“Viscount Pankratz.” Geralt rose from his seat and extended a hand. It was grasped in a warm, calloused hand which was unexpected. Usually, his clients had soft hands that never saw a day of hard work outside of shaking other hands.

“Jaskier, please, only my parents call me by my name.”

Never one to insult a client, Geralt nodded and launched into his usual spiel about what he’d understood from the notes requesting the appointment. It was all rather standard stuff, Jaskier wanting to open a savings account.

“Did I understand correctly that the bank also has a vault for other valuables?” Jaskier asked, eyes sparkling. It was perhaps one of the oddest questions Geralt had been asked because it wasn’t common knowledge. Before he could ask, Jaskier was pulling a small velvet bag from a pocket and pouring out what looked like a handful of diamonds. “You see, not all of my assets are in currency.”

“We can store your assets in the vault,” Geralt said easily. Something about the whole thing felt off but he couldn’t put a finger on it just yet.

“Wonderful. Is it safe there?”

If Geralt were cynical, he would have guessed that Jaskier was casing the back to rob it. Fuck it, who was he kidding? Geralt was definitely that cynical to assume the worst.

“Very safe.” He stared Jaskier down, not willing to offer any kind of information on the vault type or the protection in place.

What was surprising was Jsakier’s smile as if he had twigged on to Geralt’s reluctance to share. “I was in a vault once, while it was getting robbed.” The grin turned knowing and Geralt had a sinking feeling that the reason Jaskier was there was because he was the one robbing the vault.

“Must have been stressful.”

“Quite,” Jaskier agreed, fingers running over the diamonds. “Some might have called it a...greasy situation.”

“Hairy,” Geralt corrected automatically. “A hairy situation.”

“Oh I assure you, I was all grease,” came the delighted reply. Almost casually, Jaskier reached behind himself to scratch his back and demonstrated an alarming level of flexibility.

That was when it all clicked, Geralt didn’t even have to think back to the nimble way Jaskier moved. He was definitely casing the bank. Several thoughts crossed Geralt’s mind then. Firstly, Jaskier could be a problem. Secondly, Vesemir had been talking about finding a new grease man. Thirdly, Jaskier was alarmingly good looking and charming.

Before Geralt could second guess himself, he nodded. “I’m afraid I may not be able to help you with everything today, I will have to refer you up our chain of command. But I’m sure Vesemir will see you and be able to help. He’s very good at welcoming people into the family.”

It was almost comical to watch Jaskier’s face fall for a brief second. He obviously hadn’t expected to be caught. Time for the killer. “Though I would advise being more careful with your diamonds. Vesemir is very much more on the fence about such vagrant displays of wealth. You don’t want to find them undervalued by the wrong expert.” Standing up, Geralt smiled and tidied his papers. “Allow me to show you to Vesemir.”

He steered Jaskier out of his office, past Lambert and Eskel and to Vesemir. There was a quiet confidence to Geralt’s steps, knowing that, if all went well, he’ll have kept the family vault and accounts safe. Plus the family will have filled a space in their ranks. And maybe, just maybe, Geralt would have some eye candy at least on heists, if not something more.

#geralt of rivia #jaskier #the witcher #modern au #tldr: jaskier wants to rob a bank

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ihavenocluedude · 4 years ago

Text

(Not) Completely Okay

Merlin (Kingsman) x Reader

A/N: Okay duderinos, were my plans slightly delayed because of a family vacation (it was within our own country and we had masks with us and tried to socially distance as much as possible)? Yup. Did I still work on the damn Merlin x reader thing during the vacation? Fuck yeah. So here it is... This is like the first fanfiction I’ve posted since like... 2015 ish? But like I think I’ve gotten better since? Let’s hope huh?

Pleaaaase tell me what you think!

Summary (I suppose?): I think this is gender neutral? I mean it wasn’t intentional but I mean... that’s great. This is basically about Merlin (Hamish) telling reader what Kingsman actually is (though that’s not explained within the one shot) and features what his partner could be thinking during the experience (I can’t truly say this is realistic though but y’know, fanfiction). This is pre- Golden Circle, however some time after the first movie.

Word count: 1 553

Warnings - mention of death, a few mentions of small amounts of blood, spoilers for the first Kingsman movie, slight cursing, maybe a tad OOC because Merlin is slightly emotional in this but like... ye.

Angst and a bit of fluff? I suppose? I always thought I’d only write fluff but here I am

“Hamish?” You called out into the apartment as you came home, it wasn’t unusual for it to be met with silence. But silence was very unusual if he actually was there.

Usually there’d be some music playing softly as he made dinner for the two of you, or he’d simply shout that he was ‘in here!’ from wherever in the flat he was. Hamish works a lot so he’s not at home all the time, his work is after all very demanding, you had gotten quite used to it by now. Of course you sometimes lied and said that it was completely okay. Missing your boyfriend all the time didn’t feel completely okay, if anything it was tolerable at most.

Finding your boyfriend in the living room with a gun? Extremely worrying and not at all ‘completely okay’.

Normally Hamish was almost always calm and collected, everything under control. However at this very moment he seemed to be trembling, clutching his head as he leaned forward, resting his elbows onto his knees, the gun still in his hand. Not to speak about the small amount of blood splatter he had on his shirt and skin.

“What the hell is going on?” It came out sharper than you wanted, sure the situation called for a slight what-the-fuck tone but looking at Hamish who looked completely broken as is... It felt way too harsh, you could sense the frazzled state, you could see how his body trembled. “Hamish?” Trying to put on a somewhat softer tone, slowly walking over to the man and putting your hand on his shoulder felt like the right thing to do. However it made you jolt up when he seemed to snap out of the daze he had been in.

“Sweetheart,” He almost seemed shocked that you were home, looking up at you “-It’s… I need to tell y’ something.” His stumbling voice only worried you more, you thought you’d seen Hamish in every single mood you could see someone in. But this seemed unexplored to you, it was unexpected. You’ve known him for so long, you’ve loved him for so long that this almost makes him seem like someone else. “Sit down, please.”

You should run, you really should. But it was Hamish, sitting there in front of you asking you to please sit down and listen to whatever the hell had seemed happen inside your shared home. So you did, you sat down, took a deep breath and looked at the man you love, who at the moment barely seemed like him.

When Harry, one of his closest friends had died, you had heard him repeating a phrase in a whisper a couple times ‘no time for emotion’. It was a thing you had repeated in your head since in confusion, Hamish has always been a very collected person, someone who almost seems to excel in stressing moments if anything. You weren’t that shocked but of course very worried when you heard the phrase. You had tried to bring it up but Hamish didn’t seem to want to talk about it.

But during all of that time he seemed to shut off slightly, the ‘no time for emotion’ seemed to be for every feeling. So to say that seeing him in this state was shocking? Yeah that was a bit of an understatement.

“So…” Hamish began before he himself noticed that he was still holding the gun, looking at it wide eyed before setting it down on one of the tables nearby “I have a lot t’ explain sweetheart.” Giving you a weak smile and taking one of your hands in both of his, trying to keep the eye contact as he began describing his ‘real’ job. You knew he worked tech for some company and so on, however this was way different from what you thought he did.

And the gun and the blood splatter described something more than what he was telling you at the moment. The missions, the agents in general, how Harry had actually died and who Harry really was, how the whole Valentine thing had happened and everything.

“Hamish? What about the… uhm t-… the gun? And the…” You asked him and gestured towards the small blood splatter on his shirt that your eyes had locked onto for the last few seconds. You hadn’t known that Hamish had risked his life almost every day at work, that the small business trips were really missions that he had to help with on-site, that when he said good bye every morning; it could be the last time.

He seemed almost confused at your reaction. Trying to look calm and collected but at the same time quite obvious about your real reaction. Your hands-no your whole body was shaking, your eyes looked slightly watery and you had crossed your arms in front of you by now.

“I had to go on a mission today... It was... Well it didn’t go well.”

“No shit Sherlock.” You let out a small chuckle before instantly shaking your head and putting your free hand over your face. This really wasn’t the time for a chuckle or jokes.

”Don’t leave... I’ll never let anything happen to y’.”

“You’ll never let anything happen to me? How can I trust that, Hamish?” Your eyes met his again finally “The only thing I can trust is that I love you too much to let you go-Fuck, look I need some time to process this.” Your voice was shaking as you tried to make up your mind yourself. It was hard even picturing Hamish with a gun even if one sat right beside him. He isn’t some fucking James Bond or anything, he’s just your Hamish. Sure he was always very charming, he was always very well dressed and sure the way he moves was very... smooth?-Ugh

You couldn’t rely on your scrambled mind to make a steady, reliable answer to this whole situation. Your tornado of thoughts spinning from one thing to the next. How many people has he actually killed? Is it safe in here? Who’s blood is on his shirt? What the fuck happened tonight to make him react like this?

“Is it even safe in here?” You asked, trying to turn the tornado of thoughts into something useful, information. Pointing towards the gun on the table as to make a follow-up question, the gun still within reach of Hamish and his slender hands. That you thought only fixed IT problems, messaged you love-letters through texts when he worked late, massaged your neck when it was sore and could make a killer meal.

“Yeah, it is now.” His accent and voice seemed rougher and it didn’t really help that he said now. As if it had been dangerous just moments before you walked into your home, your supposedly safe home.

“I love you.” He spoke softly, practically whispering. Taking one of your hands in his once again as you stood up from the couch, he kissed your knuckles gently before letting you walk up to the usually shared bedroom. Hamish had decided for himself though that he’d sleep down there for tonight however, almost like a guard dog. In case the problems from earlier popped up again...

--- --- ---

The morning after felt awkward, two people keeping each other at a distance out of some sort of fear. Hamish was afraid of going too close, scaring you or losing you just because he told you. He had waited for so long to tell you and this hadn’t been the way he wanted to tell you. But of course there was some big fuck up and he had returned exhausted with the blood splatter still on him. The gun he could’ve hid. Maybe it had been intentional he wondered to himself, maybe he’d pretended to himself that he forgot just so he could just finally tell you.

Your fears? Who knows, your mind still felt scrambled. What were you going to do? Ask him to quit his job? You couldn’t do that, the way he spoke about his job yesterday just confirmed that he loves it. Sure you used to ask him about his job before and he seemed to love it, but before last night he’d lied about what he truly did during his workdays. He didn’t just fix some computer for some guy in finance. So what would you do, would you just leave him?

Leave Hamish? And what for? He told you that the only one who knew about you two, or you at all, had been Harry. Hamish is clearly trained so needless to say, you would be safe with him if you decided to stay. So what? Leave him because you’re scared of losing him? Pushing him away because you’re scared that you’ll come home and find true silence, you would anyway if you kept pushing him away.

“Hamish?” Your voice came out rather weakly, as it had been one of the first sentences of your day. His head turned so quickly that you heard a small stretching crack from his neck. “I love you.” You simply told him, having your answer decided in your head. The hug he embraced you in held all the fears of maybe losing you, you could barely breathe but it was completely okay.

A/N: Idek dude, I was thinking of ending this thing in a way more depressing way but like this is cute? Right? I feel like some of it might be a biiiit OOC unfortunately?? Like you always see Merlin so god damn professional, like even in like golden circle he was so calm and collected. I love Merlin, that’s all.

FEEDBACK IS TRULY NEEDED PLEASE

(this is seriously one of the first things I’ve posted fanfic-wise since I was like... 14? And that was truly trash back then. But like I like to imagine I’ve gotten better?)

#Merlin Kingsman x reader #Kingsman #Merlin x reader #Mark Strong #My writing #No clue if this is good or not #IHaveNoClueDude #Mark Strong x Reader

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sagurus · 4 years ago

Text

04. caged

Prompt was: Running out of time: caged.

Using @whumptober2020‘s prompt today.

The original idea behind this is credited to @magpythe; I don’t believe he’s posted any of his writing for this au himself yet, but it’s inspired entirely from a scenario that he started, and then we talked about collaboratively. For some context, this takes place in a world much like our own in terms of scientific rules, except there are magical/supernatural beings (vampires, werewolves, shinigami, kitsune, etc) living among us as well. This was a well-kept secret from the general populace bc those magical beings didn’t want to deal with the backlash, but alas this facade couldn’t last. Humans aren’t handling their new understanding of the world very well :’)

Anyway, onto the story.

----------

Eighteen hours, fifty-seven minutes, and counting.

The cell was minimalistic and austere. Plain walls behind and beside him. Metal bars before him, looking out at a vacant wall. The opposite side of the holding area. His cell was one of about five in the short hallway, all lined against one side of it, with a door on either end. Each cell was a little under two metres wide and three deep. Saguru’s own cell was the second from the right.

Insofar as he could tell, he was the only one in this particular holding area. In the nineteen hours he had spent here, the only sounds he heard beyond his own breathing were those of officers. It would seem that most non-human individuals who displayed the clinically-induced violent reaction were swiftly neutralized without extenuating circumstances to protect them. He was lucky, he thought bitterly, that nepotism could guarantee him the civility of a holding cell rather than more immediate measures. For other, less fortunate individuals, Saguru imagined that containing them was seen as risky. Or a waste of resources better dedicated to human criminals who had willingly broken the law, rather than innocent non-human civilians forced into a hopeless situation.

How long they intended to hold him here, though, he didn’t know. For all he knew, it could be indefinite. Or he could be released tomorrow. Or meet some more final fate. The seconds ticked by.

Nineteen hours, five minutes. By his calculation, it was almost noon, assuming his timekeeping wasn’t too faulty without the aid of his pocket watch.

The heavy, industrial door fell open and then closed again, sounding out a dulled thud. Footsteps clicked against linoleum tile. Saguru estimated at least three officers, until he belatedly managed to pick out a fourth, much lighter set of steps. Someone slight. A child? He dearly hoped it wasn’t a child’s footsteps he was hearing. There was something strange about them, too. Something about the way that these steps struck and slided across the tile, making them sound…sharp?

The cluster came near enough he could just make out the line of one of the officer’s uniforms. He stayed seated on his cot, listening. He couldn’t see the majority of the group from here, let alone make out whether the owner of the smaller footsteps had, indeed, been a child. There was a solemn air as the door to the cell neighboring his own. Small footsteps padded inside. The cell door shut. A woman’s voice, strained and tense (not with fear—guilt? Stress?) said, “Someone will bring your dinner around seven.”

A beat, something like hesitation hovering in the air, and then the officers’ steps (all three sets) retreating down the hall. Saguru held his breath, waiting for the officers to be out of the holding area entirely.

Once they were gone, he continued to wait, listening in for any activity from his new neighbor.

Saguru’s own arrival into this situation had been a rather unexpected one for all parties involved. The issue was this: the world was rapidly becoming aware of the existence of supernaturally-inclined beings existing among them in society—generally referred to as youkai in Japan. Sensationalized media ensured that this was not well-received, but at the very least most inhuman individuals still managed to keep the truth under wraps and continue to assimilate. Until scientific innovation introduced a drug which garnered no reaction from virtually all humans, but revealed any magically obscured, glamoured, or otherwise concealed features that these other beings possessed. It also bore a few potential unfortunate side effects for some youkai. The most common of these was an uncontrollable violence, pushing the recipient into a dangerous frenzy. In other, rarer cases, the drug had even killed some. The kicker here was that Hakuba labs was a major proponent for the creation of the drug and helped pioneer it. Once the drug left clinical trials, it was determined that it needed to be administered to as much of the populace of Japan as possible, in order to catalog human and youkai population.

Hakuba Takahiro and his ex-wife, Rosalin Caldwell, were both humans. As far as anyone had been aware, Hakuba Saguru was also human. Saguru himself had never doubted this.

That didn’t explain the flurry of flame, the way he had tried to surge out his seat, the loss of sense or understanding, vision gone red in outrage. They had barely managed to restrain him. His father had almost been struck with the explosive fire, before Saguru had somehow managed to extinguish it.

On principle, Saguru had been opposed to the usage of the drug; frankly, the ethical implications were horrifying even without the potential for dangerous side-effects geared specifically toward one party of people. Nevermind the fact there were not yet any laws to protect youkai, nor any clear delineation of a plan to accommodate for them a place in society. He had considered refusing to participate in receiving it and thus being complicit in the cause, but his father had left him little room for argument.

Needless to say, it had all gone very badly. So far, Saguru had not been informed at all about what was being discussed with regards to his fate.

Hell, he still didn’t even understand why it had happened.

In the cell beside Saguru’s, his new neighbor seemed to be getting acquainted with the room. Those strange, precise footsteps seemed to walk its inner perimeter. A few moments later, he heard the sound of the cot squeaking and settling.

Breathing, even and measured, but in a forced way. A restrained way. Holding something in.

Saguru couldn’t think of a single thing he could say to improve the situation. He decided he would wait until he heard some indication that the other would even want conversation.

Hours of mutual silence later, the heavy door opened and shut again. Heavy footfalls approaching from down the hallway. Saguru guessed that it was probably for dinner.

“Who would have thought Beika city’s murder magnet really was a shinigami after all?” the officer observed with an amusement that Saguru found chilling. It seemed to be directed at the neighboring cell, as the officer hadn’t reached Saguru yet.

Beika city’s murder magnet… Dawning horror. There was only one person Saguru could think of who matched that morbid description.

Meanwhile, the officer was met with tense silence. After apparently handing off the food, he moved onto Saguru. Saguru started at him icily. He was silent, privately daring the man to breathe a word in his direction. The officer, this time, was equally silent.

Once the officer was gone, Saguru set his food aside. He didn’t have any appetite to speak of, right now. Instead, he needed to know. “Edogawa-kun, is that you?”

The response was a startled, stammered, “Haku—Hakuba nii-san?” Alarm colored his voice. Clearly, he was just as distressed to find someone familiar here.

Saguru’s heart sank. “Yes, indeed, it’s me.”

“What are you doing here?” Edogawa demanded.

Saguru laid back on the cot, exhaled long and slow. “I suppose I’m not human,” he said simply. “Believe me, it was a surprise to me, too.” He paused, and then ventured, “Are you unhurt?”

He tried to imagine what Edogawa must look like, now. The officer had called him a shinigami, but Saguru wasn’t entirely clear on what, visually, that entailed. Bat wings came to mind. He thought back to the strange sound of the boy’s footsteps. How much of his anatomy had been forced to change to its truer form because of the injection?

“More or less,” was Edogawa’s noncommittal response.

Saguru was still trying to get his head around the fact that the police had put a seven-year-old in a holding cell. Youkai or not, this was a child. What did they intend to do with him?

This had all been much easier when all Saguru had to worry about was his own fate.

Edogawa Conan, as it turned out, made a perfectly good neighbor, and even a pleasant conversation partner. The sheer amount of boredom that came with sitting in a cell with nothing to do for hours that stretched into days was almost enough to forget the horror of their situation. Either way, the only real escape—from the horror or the boredom—was to fill the space with conversation.

Fortunately, there was plenty to talk about. Old cases, literature, trading favorite Sherlock Holmes stories. The situation at hand. It was difficult not to discuss the problem they were in together, as they were both people who couldn’t help but try to study a problem from all angles in order to try to solve it. But inevitably the direction of those conversations turned dark too quickly for Saguru’s comfort. It wouldn’t do either of them any good to focus on the ways things could go wrong.

“Hey, Hakuba,” Edogawa said one day, apparently forgetting to use the honorific (or simply electing to drop it, there being very little bandwidth for Edogawa’s more childish act). “What are you, anyway?”

It was a blunt question, but over the past handful of days, they had mutually elected not to worry too much over politeness. Saguru faltered, before saying honestly, “I haven’t the slightest idea. I suspect one of my parents may not be biologically related to me, and whoever the other contributing party was, was some variety of youkai.” Yesterday, Saguru had been granted a visit by a scientist, who had studied him like a specimen and taken a variety of samples, all while Saguru remained restrained for the scientist’s safety. Never mind the fact that the more alarming skill he (apparently) possessed was manifesting fire without the use of any tools, so he wasn’t sure what good restraining him would do to anybody. Regardless, the examination had gone by without incident, and Saguru suspected that there had been some kind of DNA test conducted, although he had no confirmation as to the results.

Edogawa made a noise of consideration, lapsed into silence, then started again. “Did you change?” He asked, almost delicately.

“I don’t think I did,” Saguru told him. “As far as I can tell, visually everything is still the same as it had been. Admittedly, I haven’t seen my reflection since some time before the incident, so I can’t say with one hundred percent certainty.”

Quiet, again, and Saguru wondered if he should ask if Edogawa had changed, then decided against it. The other boy could tell him if he’d like, but otherwise Saguru didn’t want Edogawa to trouble him with it.

“So, they found out you were youkai because…”

“Because I had—an outburst, yes.” Understatement of the century.

Saguru could hear the grimace in Edogawa’s voice when he asked, “—Was everybody alright?”

“I—” Saguru recalled the violence of his reaction, the flames licking out and nearly making contact in a dangerous way with his father as well as one of the nurses. He recalled the feeling of a vicious snarl contorting his expression and the way he’d surged against the precautionary restraints.

He recalled going perfectly still as soon as he’d regained a handle on himself. The doctor approaching him with a new syringe, and the distant thought, Is he giving me a sedative or is he euthanising me? The foreign, turbulent rage churning inside of him until he’d gone under thanks to the shot (sedative, it turned out).

“Nobody got hurt,” Saguru assured him after a too-long silence. “It was—frightening. But nobody was hurt.”

“—I hurt a nurse,” Edogawa said, and his voice was the sort of stony that belied the great effort of holding in his emotions. “It could have been a lot worse, but I still hurt somebody. Really badly.”

“You can’t fault yourself for it,” Saguru said immediately, sternly. “It speaks volumes about your sense of accountability and responsibility, that you feel guilty for it, but it wasn’t your fault that it happened.”

“If you say so.”

It was their seventh day like this. Still, Saguru received no news any time he asked a passing officer for updates.

Earlier today, Hattori Heiji had visited, apparently to discreetly provide Edogawa some contraband (such as books). Edogawa had kindly requested that Hattori pass one of those books to Saguru. The other detective had been frankly shocked to realize he was here, and despite their usual animosity, the other boy had seemed mostly genuinely concerned for him. When Saguru asked if there was anything Hattori could tell him about the situation, it had been a definite negative. Apparently his situation was being kept well out of the hands of the media, at least for now. Saguru could only imagine his father must have told the school that he was on some sort of vacation, or had accepted a case which required him to head overseas again. Nobody would be worried about him, then.

Now, the visit was over and they had lapsed into silence while they, for the moment, privately entertained themselves. Rather than read, Saguru had tucked the book away for later, and was instead practicing what little exercise he could to keep his body active. Right now it was warm-up stretches. He desperately ached to go on a run.

At some point, Edogawa cut into the silence.

“What do you think is going to happen, Hakuba?” and then, hastily added, “—nii-san.” He sounded pensive, uncertain. He didn’t sound afraid, but Saguru thought that he might be anyway.

“I don’t know,” he murmured, opting for honesty rather than false hope. “It’s been a week and we’re still here. I don’t know what anyone’s plan for us is.”

“Yeah…” Edogawa trailed off, deep in thought. Saguru wondered if it would have been better to say that he was sure things would wind up working out. The problem was, he wasn’t sure. He had been under the impression that he would be placed under holding until they worked out the best circumstance to harness or otherwise stifle his apparent abilities, and then return him to something like normal life, but with a tight leash.

But now it had been seven days, with no developments, and Saguru was beginning to wonder if this was all much more dire than he had thought.

They both went quiet again, only for Edogawa to speak up just as abruptly as he had before. “—I need to tell you something.”

Puzzled, Saguru went still. “Proceed.”

“It’s pretty unbelievable, so I need you to bear with me. Okay?”

Edogawa seemed to do a lot of things that fell quite near the ‘unbelievable’ category, in Saguru’s experience. Much like Kuroba tended to, although they had different styles in the ways they defied reality. “I’ll do my best to keep an open mind,” he assured Edogawa.

“My name isn’t really Edogawa Conan,” he began.

And the sky was blue, and Kaitou KID was Kuroba Kaito. “Mm.”

“It’s actually Kudou Shin’ichi, and I’m really seventeen, not seven.”

So this is what Edogawa meant when he said it was unbelievable. He couldn’t help but wonder if Edogawa was engaging in a delusion to cope with the frankly traumatic situation they had found themselves in. “Is that so?” he inquired, honoring his promise to keep an open mind. Edogawa was right, though. This was difficult to believe.

Edogawa made an irritated sound, like he could tell Saguru didn’t believe him. “I don’t know what’s going to happen to us, and almost no one knows. I want you to know. I—a year and a half ago, I went with Ran to Tropical Land, and worked that case with the roller coaster beheading.”

Saguru recalled the news reports of that case all too well. Truly, it had been a particularly gruesome case, so he was eternally gratefully it hadn’t been him on the scene.

“There were these suspicious men there, and after I solved the case I left Ran so I could tail them and figure out what they were up to. But one of them surprised me from behind, knocked me out, and gave me this—drug,” allegedly-Kudou-Shin’ichi explained. “It was supposed to kill me via apoptosis, but instead it… de-aged me. ”

It was certainly a lot to process. It felt a little bit like the plot of a bad science fiction. But he spoke with urgency, and he was clearly being genuine. Although Saguru was still inclined to lean toward delusion, he decided to consider his way through the facts he had from his limited research into the whereabouts of Kudou Shin’ichi. It was true that the same day Kudou disappeared, Mouri Ran had wound up taking in Edogawa Conan. It would explain the strange amount of knowledge and understanding Edogawa possessed, especially in terms of investigating crime scenes and solving cases. It also clarified anachronistic errors—moments when Edogawa would say he’d seen something when it was first released, even though it should have come out well before his birth date.

After analyzing the facts, Saguru realized there was nothing (beyond his own understanding of scientific development) that disproved the claim. None of the facts he had specifically proved it either, though. He didn’t know the other detective well enough to quiz Edogawa in order to prove it for himself, either.

He thought back to their previous conversation. They didn’t know, really, what would become of them here. If they would make it out of here. Perhaps this was a delusion, but if so, Saguru didn’t think it would do any good to deny the other that. It certainly wouldn’t change anything for the better in the short term.

Saguru resolved that he would take the other boy at his word, and, should he have the means and opportunity if they got out of this, he’d pursue it more critically then.

“—I see,” he said, nodding slowly although Kudou couldn’t see him. “It is good to have gotten to know you, then, Kudou-kun. I’m sorry it wasn’t under better circumstances.”

When the other boy next spoke, it was obvious to Saguru that something coiled very tightly had unwound. The relief was nearly palpable. “It’s good to meet you too, Hakuba-kun. Here’s to hoping we make it out of this so that we can keep getting to know each other.”

They could only hope. “I’ll do my best to remain optimistic,” Saguru murmured in agreement.

#dcmk #hakuba saguru #kudou shinichi #kudo shinichi #edogawa conan #october writing #october 2020 #whumptober #my writing

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