#your ask doesn’t contain that big of a spoiler so it’s fine

[dorindameddler]

Anon I haven’t seen the episode yet lol

[aliteralsemicolon]

I'll wait for your love - 18+

See part 1 | See Part 2 | Part 3 of We can't be friends (wait for your love)

The only thing you’re sure of is that you don’t want things to go back to the way they were and Spencer agrees that change may be for the best.

Spencer Reid X Fem! Reader

DISCLAIMER This story is NSFW and contains graphic depictions + detailed descriptions of adult content. It is intended for mature audiences only, minors do not interact!  You are responsible for the content you consume. Make sure to read all necessary warnings. Please remember this is a work of fiction; if you don’t like it, don’t read. 

WARNINGS: Panic attack mentioned, slight PTSD depictions, case details (barely) mentioned, alcohol mentioned like once. Smut (not the focus at all): making out, nipple play, clitoral stimulation, praise, use of pet names (angel, pretty girl, etc). Proceed at your own risk.

Word count: 10.4K See notes at end for authors note & spoilers.

Avoiding Spencer wasn’t overly difficult on the flight back to D.C. You weren’t entirely sure how to face him after he risked his life for you, so you just pretended to be asleep the whole time. You even took a separate jeep from the tarmac to avoid a car ride back with him, and almost made a clean getaway to your car in the parking lot when Hotch stopped you. 

“I’m sorry to hold you back, but I do need the Anchorage report on my desk before tomorrow morning. It can’t be put off any longer.”

He looked extremely apologetic and you understood. You’re grateful he gave you as much time as he has. That’s how you ended up stuck at work til the later hours of the evening. Besides the few workaholics, security guards and janitors roaming around the corridors, the only other person there with you is Spencer, oddly. Even Hotch has gone home. You’ve spent more time stalking the doctor work through the pile of case files on his desk than you have writing in the one on yours. Only when you're caught do you look away. 

“Everything okay?” The innocent curiosity in his big eyes further reddens the hot embarrassment in your cheeks.

“Fine.” You mutter, dipping your head back down to the open page.

You’re never going to get this damn file done if you can’t get him out of your head, and him being barely three feet away from you doesn’t help. It’s very difficult for you to get your words from pen to paper. Anchorage wasn’t haunting you like it did at first. It was a traumatic event, yes, but alone isn’t the cause of this…block. Obviously the reality that you’re leaving is starting to dawn on you. Somehow your mind has linked this case with your departure and finishing this report makes it more official than your actual resignation. 

Plus, as much as you definitely hate Spencer, you do did care for him. The shock of him almost getting himself killed in front of you is another thing occupying your mind. It’s barely been twenty four hours since then, it’s still fresh. You can see him stand and grab his satchel in your peripheral vision, he’s preparing to leave. There are a lot of memories attached to that brown leather bag. 

Things he would carry in there for you when you forgot your own bag. 

You don’t make it obvious that you’re watching him gather his things in small glances. 

He bought extra hair clips for you to keep in there because you would often forget those too. 

It’s over now. No point in dwelling on it. You shake your head once he’s out of sight, trying to force him out of your thoughts. Now that he’s gone you’re hoping to actually be able to get some work done.

He taught you chess with the mini chess set he keeps in there. You discovered that you actually quite liked chess and would ask to play with him all the time. It was also his ‘secret’ weapon to help you calm down. 

You roll your eyes to push back the tears from the memories that refuse to stop playing. This can wait until you get home, it’s not important. 

It wasn’t the chess set that helped you feel calm. Spencer could win chess against you in just a few moves, but he would deliberately stretch out the game so you could have room to breathe. The longer the game, the more time you had to spend focused on the moves and slow down your thoughts. You could open up at your own pace. He would let you feel in control.

It doesn’t matter if he’s near you or not, Spencer has a way of invading your headspace wherever he is. Your train of thoughts is interrupted with a light thud on your right. You covertly roll the tears away again and turn to examine the source of the noise. A mug of coffee placed on your desk by

“Spencer?” You sputter breathlessly. 

“Sorry. I know you told me to stop. This is the last time I promise.” 

You don’t fully comprehend what he’s going on about, not expecting him to be here at all. 

“I thought you left.”

“I did– was. I was leaving, but I thought I’d make you some coffee before I go. Since you’ve been here a while.” He awkwardly explains. 

You steadily direct your attention back to the mug, reeling in what was happening. 

“Before you get mad, this really is just a cup of coffee from a colleague who thought it might help keep you energised if you’re planning to stay late. There’s no ulterior motive…”

He continues rambling but you’re not mentally present to hear any of it. 

He made you coffee. 

Even though you’ve been nothing short of an absolute bitch. Granted he was a bitch first, but the point is that he’s still thinking of your well being regardless. You can’t hide your tears from him this time. It’s the soft buzz of your name that draws you back to him. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you! I’ll take the coffee–”

His panicked sentiment is cut short when you jump out of your seat and shove past him. The breakdown you’ve been avoiding hits you like a ton of bricks. You run into the nearest empty office and he runs after you, making it past the door before you can lock him out. 

“Spencer p–please get out! I’m fine.” You’re pacing in the same spot, fanning away the stream falling down your cheeks, hyperventilating.

He doesn’t respond to you, instead cautiously taking your hand in his. You’re in too frenzied a state to care. He guides you to sit on the couch against the wall and you blindly go along with it, still trying to get yourself together. 

You want to stop the tears, but you can’t do that until you get your breathing under control. He slowly wraps his arms around you and you slump into him, head buried in his chest. You should try to fight it, you should push him away, but you can’t. Right now, surrounded by his scent, held in his arms, you don’t want to move. It’s not something you can properly explain, but the feeling is so comforting that nothing else matters. All you know is that you’re safe and that’s enough for you to allow yourself to finally break down. 

The first few sobs are loud, like there’s not enough air in the world to stabilise your lungs. They fizzle out into silent whimpers and you grasp onto the fabric of his sweater, balling it in your fist, just letting yourself feel. Spencer still hasn’t said a word. His right hand is rubbing circles on your back and his left hand is gently scratching just above the nape of your neck. 

You stay like that for a while, even after you’ve stopped crying. It’s been so long since you’ve been in this little bubble with him and you don’t want it to end. You pull away when you feel the strap of his satchel across his stomach as your hand drops to his lap. He visually follows every move you make. 

“You’re still wearing your bag.” You sniffle, leaning back. 

“I am.” He whispers, understanding that you no longer want to be touched. 

He stays in his original position; facing you, but now with one arm resting on top of the backrest and the other idly in his lap. You’ve moved so that now you're facing ahead with your back leaning against the cushions, pulling your knees into your chest. You had never found comfort in silence until the first time you experienced it with Spencer. Staying huddled, you divert your eyes towards him. There’s a distinct wet patch on his shirt. It’s less visible on his sweater-vest, but it’s there. 

“Your shirt’s wet now.” It’s almost impossible to make out what you’re saying with your mouth muffled against your arm, but of course, Spencer manages anyway. 

“It’ll dry.” He smiles, tone delicate. 

“But– germs.” You choke a little due to your previous crying. 

“It can be washed.” He’s using his comforting voice again. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

The silence resumes. Neither of you dares to move, trying to freeze this moment. It’s obvious that you didn’t grasp how badly you craved each other’s presence. 

“D–do…” The initial sound grabs Spencer’s full attention again. You take a deep breath, hoping he wants to stay here as much as you do. “Do you still carry that little chess set with you?”

A small, airy chuckle comes out from him. 

“Would you like to play?”

“Please.” 

He creates some more space between you and begins to set up the board once he’s pulled it out of his satchel. You move to accommodate the set up, now facing him with your legs crossed on the couch and shoes abandoned on the floor. You wait for him to make the first move. After the opening moves the game doesn’t seem to get any harder and you know he’s throwing the game. You’re okay at chess, but he’s obviously a lot better. 

“You’re going easy on me.” You mumble.

“Because you’re not even trying.” He replies blithely.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Like I said, you’re making it too easy.” He gently teases.

“Not that. Helping me. You hate me, remember?” You say it like it’s the most casual thing in the world. 

“I don’t hate you.” 

“You literally told me that you hate me.” You chuckle, numb to the hurt that sentence once brought you. 

“So did you.” He counters in defence, trailing your hand as it carelessly moves your queen to her demise. 

“I was angry.” 

“So was I.” He spared your queen, in turn leaving his king vulnerable. 

“It doesn’t matter now…” You don’t finish the rest of your sentence but Spencer still hears it.

You’re leaving soon anyway.

“It matters to me.” If he left something unsaid you choose to ignore it. 

“You’re letting me win.” You whisper, feeling the urge to cry some more, but there’s no tears left. 

He doesn’t make a move, bringing the game to a halt. He’s waiting for you to meet his eyes. You know what he’s going to say. 

“Spencer, don't.” You beseech.

“Why?” If you looked at him instead of the board you’d see the way his eyes are pleading at you. 

“There’s no point.” This time it’s your voice that cracks. 

You're looking everywhere else and it makes you too aware of your surroundings. Like how the couch is lined up directly under a window that anyone could peek into. 

“Leaving is not the only option.” He solicits. 

He regards your discomfort and closes the blinds from where he’s sitting, pulling you back into the privacy of your bubble. 

“There’s nothing that you can say to make things go back to how they were.” You bite the inside of your cheek, fiddling with a random pawn. 

It’s not a proper two way conversation. You’re talking to yourself just as much as Spencer’s talking to you. You’re both trying to convince you of what you’re saying. 

“Things don’t have to go back to how they were.” The squeaks in his soothing tone are starting to melt any resolve you have left. 

“There’s no reason for me to stay.” You oppose, trying to make any argument stick.

“I can think of more reasons for you to stay than for you to go.” 

There’s an underlying tension bubbling. Neither of you notice it over your desperate tug of war. 

“I don’t think there’s anything that you can say to get me to stay.” Another baseless sentence meant more for you than for him. 

“Give me one chance. One chance to convince you.” He can see your internal struggle at his request and he throws out one final plea to sway you. “For nothing more than closure.” 

Closure.

You’ve spent months in turmoil over the hows and the what ifs, trying to conjure answers to questions that wouldn’t stop pestering you. You couldn’t turn him down even if you wanted to. 

“Closure?” You repeat, eyes finally latching onto his.

“Closure.” He whispers back in reassurance. 

“Even if you can’t convince me?” You caution, not wanting to give him false hope.

He doesn’t say anything, thinking over the scenario in his head. He simply nods and you mimic the action, blinking away the blur in your vision and dragging around chess pieces. It takes Spencer a second to figure out that you were moving them back to their default places.

“Okay new game.” You announce. 

Spencer blinks in confusion, waiting for you to elaborate. 

“I can ask you any question I want and you have to answer honestly. If by the end of the game I’m not convinced to stay, you back off for the remainder of my time here.” You pause for him to interject, but he doesn’t. “That means we stay away from each other, only talking when needed for work. Even then as cordially and professionally as possible. No more trying to make casual conversation or bringing me coffee or anything like that.”

“Till the end of the game?” He studies you. 

“Yup.” You smack your lips together. “Til one of us checkmates the other.”

“This means you’ll actually give me a fair shot?” 

“Between the two of us, I’m not the one known for cheating at games.” You jab, trying to ease the tension you could definitely feel now. 

“I meant a fair shot at convincing you. As in you’ll seriously take what I have to say into account.” He discards your attempt.

“No, I know. The opportunity was just too good to pass up.”

He can tell you’re trying to hold back a laugh from the small smile on your lips. It’s as adorable to him now as it was the first time he saw it. 

“Any rules before we start?” He asks, unable to hide his own smile.

“Only that we have to be honest.” You answer, immediately dropping your smile.

“Okay.” He agrees, smiling slightly wider.

“Okay.” You nod again.

When he finally makes the first move it hits you that you don’t actually know where to start. Theoretically, you know what you want to ask, but don’t know how to ask. You don’t know if you should jump straight into the questions or start with some ice breakers. Nothing is said for about four to five moves when Spencer pauses the game. 

“Are you going to ask any questions or have you decided that you just want to play one last game for your closure?”

“Huh?” You snap your vision away from the board. “Oh, sorry. I was thinking.”

“Do you want to return to the game after thinking of a few questions to ask?” He raises his brow and relaxes his jaw.

“No, no, we don’t need to do that. Let’s keep playing, the questions will come to me.” You brush off his suggestion and motion for him to continue with his turn. He doesn’t.

“What?” Your voice raises and you scrunch your nose from perplexity.

“Sorry, it’s just that you’ve put us on a time limit and this is how you’re using our time?” He airs, failing to conceal his amusement.

“Well excuse me if I don’t exactly have a list of questions ready to go for you.” You narrow your eyes in annoyance. 

“Why would you suggest this if you don’t have any questions?” He tries to hold back his laugh and ends up snorting as a result. 

“I have questions!” You jabber, unable to maintain your annoyance. “I don’t know what– where do I even start?”

“Start with whichever one comes to you first.” He shrugs, finally making his move. 

A lot of things come to mind when you think about it. The thing that screams the loudest twitches a nerve and you become instantly irate. 

“Okay.” You nod, tone harsh and flat. “Let’s start with whatever the fuck possessed you on the last case. What was your thought process when you put your life in danger like that?”

He almost gets whiplash from the change in mood, his face literally reads ‘are you serious?’. 

“He was going to shoot you.” He states like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

“I was wearing a vest, I would’ve been fine.” You contend. 

“I wasn’t willing to take that risk.” 

“Risk?! You literally put yourself in danger for no reason!” 

“I think it was a pretty good reason actually!” 

“Spencer that was–” You stop yourself with a grumble, inhaling deeply. 

“It was instinctual, okay?” He softly explains. “I saw him aim the gun at you and I just reacted.” 

“Well it was a stupid reaction!” You whine. 

“I’m not going to apologise for it.”

The glare you give is piercing, you bite the inside of your cheek to hold your tongue before you say something you can’t take back. Spencer throws his head back and sighs. 

“But I will promise not to do it again.” He adds, not fully intending to keep it. 

This was slowly turning into another argument, both of you shooting back too fast with your responses. You aren’t in the mood for another argument. So you redirect your attention to the game. 

“Check.” You mumble, buying yourself time to think of another question. “Why are you here so late anyway?”

“I wanted to finish some work before tomorrow morning.” He replies, moving his king to safety. 

“Yeah, what’s up with that? You could’ve done those tomorrow as well.” Your voice softens out of curiosity. 

“I wanted to get them finished in case there were more tomorrow.” It’s not his best excuse. You don’t know what he means by that. He doesn’t know what he means by that. He’s lying to you. 

You scoff, poking your tongue against your cheek. “Wow. You really can’t not cheat during a game, can you?” 

“Right, sorry.” Spencer clears his throat after the initial confusion clears. Complete honesty, it was your only rule. “I wanted to be here.”

“For…” You egg on, purposely rolling your ‘r’s to prompt him. 

“I wanted to make sure that you were okay.” He admits, looking away from you. 

“Why?” You’re genuinely puzzled at the admission. “You’re the one who almost died. I mean, it was stupid and your fault, but still. If anything I should be checking up on you.”

“Check.” That’s the only response he gives you. He hopes that you don’t push further, but he knows that you will. 

His lack of response only forces you to think about the possible reasons by yourself, using context clues to figure it out. You are a profiler, after all. 

“Is this because of the panic attack?” You note how his jaw twitches when he swallows at the mention. “It is! You seriously chose to spend your night stuck at the office because of that?” 

“What else was I supposed to do? It’s not like you would talk to me, you literally refused to even look at me!” He gripes. 

“Spencer I think anyone would panic if they got tackled to the ground by a six foot man without warning. I’m fine.” You giggle.

“What happened to complete honesty?” It’s his turn to glare at you.

“I am being honest!” You protest.

“Lying by omission is not being honest.” He rolls his eyes.

“Okay Mr. know-it-all, what am I lying about?” You challenge.

“Seriously? You don’t remember?” His approach is doubtful and he just stares at your dazed expression.

“Fucking spit it out already, Spence!” 

Any sarcasm he had geared up for a response dissipates at your use of his nickname. He’s heard it plenty in the last few months, but not from you. For a moment things feel like they never changed. It stings in a bittersweet kind of way. 

“You sc–screamed– uh–” He clears his throat and rapidly blinks, his nose twitches in the process. “During that panic attack, you repeatedly asked me to stay with you. Y–you, uh– you said you didn’t think you could li–”

“Stop. Stop. Stop talking.” Your voice quavers and you hold your hand up, ears burning up. “I don’t wanna know.”

You don’t know why it makes your heart race the way it does, you don’t even remember it. He waits a while before speaking up again, wanting to be careful about how he goes about the topic without you shutting down.

“May I ask you a question?” He voices professionally, trying to make the conversation less personal so you don’t feel cornered. 

You nod, moving your king out of check.

“Is there anybody you will talk to about Anchorage? Without pushing them away?” He keeps the game going as he speaks to provide you with a distraction. 

“Woah– Anchorage? Where is that coming from?” You titter.

“I want you to remember that we promised to be honest and I won’t push if you ask me to stop, but I know for a fact that you aren’t okay.” He waits for you to stop him but you don’t, even though you know roughly what he’s going to say. “Panic attacks aside, your avoidant behaviour around the topic, inability to focus, being easily startled, you’re showing signs of PTSD.” 

“Spence, c’mon. I don’t need to talk to anyone. I already passed the psych evals.” You attempt to make light of the situation with carefully chosen words so you’re not lying. It was a futile attempt, you know he’s not willing to budge when he doesn’t give you anything more than a blank stare. 

“Why does this matter so much to you?” You sigh in defeat. “Whatever happened…that’s a part of the job, you know that.”

“I also know, first hand, that it takes over your life. You can’t run from it, no matter how much you try to.” His tone is soft as he speaks, yet you feel like he’s accusing you. 

“I am not running! Why would you say I’m running?” You object with a high voice, shrugging your shoulders. “And it’s not taking over my life. Also, check.”

“Because that’s what you do when you don’t want to deal with something.” He states point blank.

“Woah– so– that was entirely unnecessary.” You stammer, unable to deny it. 

“I’m not criticising you. I just happen to know you and I know that you have a tendency to run from your problems. And it is taking over your life.” 

“You’re profiling!” You gasp.

“You know that it’s not something we can just turn off! No matter how much we pretend like we can.” He waves his hands defensively. 

You can’t argue with that, your lips twisting to the side. 

“You want me to be honest?” You murmur sheepishly. 

“Always. Please.” He responds gently, wanting you to be as comfortable as possible.

“I don’t want to talk about it. I spend a good chunk of my day actively avoiding thinking about it, but somehow I always end up thinking about it anyway. At times it’s like I can almost feel…” You breathe in instinctively. “This is the first time in months I’ve been able to do anything without it lingering in the back of my mind. Can we please talk about it another time? I would rather talk about other things…”

Another time. 

“...right now.” 

You’ve implied that there will be another time to talk and he definitely caught it, even if he pretends that he hasn’t. You don’t even know if what you said is true, you got too comfortable with the familiarity of his friendship. It was something you said out of habit from back when you two actually were friends. Not even a full hour's worth of conversation with him and he’s already worming his way back in.

“Um–” You drag yourself further back on the couch, creating more physical distance. 

“That’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it at all.” Spencer senses your urgency to leave the situation and jumps into damage control. “It’s your turn.”

“No, um, I should– I should go. Thanks for doing thi– helping me.” You turn away from him, aiming for your shoes and ready to bolt.

“The game’s not over.” He points out.

“Yes it is.” You declare, still in the process of putting on your shoes.

“You said til checkmate.” He huffs, shifting out of his seated position. 

“I forfeit!” You throw your arms out in a shrugging manner, standing up after him.

“I can’t believe this. You’re going back on your word!” He doesn’t even raise his voice. He’s just hurt. 

“What’s the point, Spencer? Closure doesn’t mean anything, I’m still leaving! You can’t magically change my mind!” You yell, getting louder with each sentence. 

“I disagree. I think that you’re running again!” He blocks your way and yells back, maintaining his volume throughout. 

“Maybe you should think less!” You suggest, still yelling. Sarcasm is your defence mechanism when you have no actual defence. 

“You know what else I think?” He continues, emphasising the word ‘think’ every time he says it out of spite. “I think that you agreed to this thinking I won’t be able to convince you, but I am!”

“I don’t care what you–”

“I think you don’t want to finish the game that you started, because you’re afraid to ask the harder questions!”

“Stop.” You command, but it doesn’t deter him.

“I think that you’re scared to hear my answers because then it all becomes too real for you–” 

“Stop!” The words almost get stuck in your throat, but you choke them out. “You’re wrong.” 

“If I’m wrong then prove it. To both of us.” He sits back down and motions to the board. “Ask the real questions.” 

“I don’t need to prove anything, you’re wrong.” You uphold.

“So leave.” He challenges, knowing that you won’t be able to. 

If you truly believed that he’s wrong you wouldn’t feel the need to prove it, but you do and he knows that. You walk back over to the couch, head nodding from irritation, tongue poking your cheek. You kick your shoes off with a bit of force and return to your earlier position across from him. 

“Your move.” He reminds you as you settle in.

You don’t reply yet, but move your rook to set him up for the next move.  

“Check.” He smugly states.

“Who was she?” 

You don’t move, examining him close for any change in his behaviour. He obviously didn't anticipate that question first, snapping his sights back on you. 

“Sorry?” 

“The woman who greeted me at your door. That night at your apartment.” 

“Charlotte.” He replies, holding your gaze to show you he’s got nothing to hide. “We met at the library a week before.”

“Are you guys together?” You break away first, diverting your eyes to the chess board and trying to seem unfazed when moving your knight. 

“No, God, no.” He denies immediately. 

“I don’t know, she seemed pretty cosy for someone you met a week prior.” You don’t mean to sound as snide as you come across.

“No, it wasn’t like that at all.” He shakes his head. 

“You sure? Because I’m pretty sure I saw her mark you up with a kiss on your cheek before disappearing.” You don’t look at him, examining a captured pawn as you wait for him to make his move. 

“Mark me up?” He cognizes it instantly. “Are you…jealous?”

“What? No!” You vehemently deny, your voice rising in several pitches. 

“You are!” His eyes widen. 

“I am not jealous.” 

His jaw slacks and he lets out an amused scoff. He doesn’t say anything, making you feel the need to fill the silence. 

“I only bring it up because…I know you have a thing with…germs.” Your words falter because of your own uncertainty and you want to dissolve into the fucking floor. 

Spencer tries to suppress a smile by poking his tongue out slightly. If the atmosphere was lighter he’d tease you about it, but he doesn’t want to make you take off again. Still, he feels the need to clarify the events of the night. 

“I don’t know why she kissed my cheek, it was completely random.” He takes his time saying it, still fighting a smile.

You swallow nervously and purse your lips to the side in response. One question answered and you only have new ones in its place. Did she stay the night? Did she sleep on the couch or on his bed? Did he see her again? 

“I drove her home right after you left.” He can almost hear your thoughts. 

“Was it a date?” You softly gulp again, unsure if you even have a right to know.

“Yes.” He hesitates. 

“Oh.” 

“I wanted to try out casual dating for once.” He chagrins. “I honestly don’t know how you did it, it’s not even fun.” 

“No it’s not.” You chuckle dryly. “So no second date, I presume?”

“Definitely not. I was just stressed the whole time.” He chuckles with you. 

“Take a shot of tequila before you go next time, it helps settle the nerves.” You joke, jumping to give him advice you hope he doesn’t take. You can’t help it, it’s what you’ve always done. Even if it goes against what you desire. 

“While moderate consumption of tequila can help relax the nervous system, I will not be turning to alcohol for stress relief.” 

“Then blast classical music while you get ready and give yourself a pep talk out loud, it’s actually really efficient–”

“There won’t be a next time. For a really long time, if ever.” He interjects, miffed at your insistence. 

“You willingly plan on committing to lifelong celibacy?” You exclaim with a puzzled look. “Why?!”

Spencer laughs at how raw your reaction is. He didn’t plan on giving out any more details but, with that prompt he decides that it’s now or never. 

“I don’t think any future dates will appreciate me picturing someone else in their place the whole time.” 

Oh. 

Both of you lock eyes at the same time. This is not a road you’re prepared to go back down, even if that’s literally the whole point of this conversation. You’re too stunned to reply and Spencer uses this as an opportunity to be elaborate. He doesn’t want any misunderstandings this time. 

“I couldn’t stop pictur–”

“Shut up.” You blurt out the sentence in almost one word. 

Your heart’s racing like you’re standing on the edge of a cliff. You’re flustered, every part of your body is heated from how terrified you are.

“Y–you don’t have t–t…you don’t owe m–me an explanation.” You try to elaborate, contradicting yourself and stumbling on your words.

“I want to.” He reads that you’re apprehensive but pushes regardless. 

“Please don’t.” The tears that you thought had dried out were building again.

“Why ask if you won’t let me answer?”

You don’t have anything to say to that. Did you want answers? Yes. Still, you didn’t expect how hard they’d be to hear. He whispers your name and you scramble to think of your next move, and not in chess. You’re unable to even think about the game right now. You want to bolt, but you can’t even get yourself to move. So you deflect. 

“Because it doesn’t matter.”

“I disagree.” Although his tone is subdued, the pace of his wording is faster. “I think it does matter and that’s why you’re afraid to hear it.”

He’s right but you can’t bring yourself to agree. This is only going to over-complicate an already complicated situation.

“It’s not enough.” Your voice cracks.

“How can it be if you won’t even give it a fair shot?” 

“Fair?” 

It comes out louder than you intended. His words trigger resentment within you and you snap. 

“Nothing about any of this is fair! I mean, fucking hell, Spencer, four years. That’s how long we’ve been friends. I mean I’ve shared shit that I thought I would be taking to the fucking grave with you! You were my best friend for four fucking years and all it took was like, five seconds?”

You sob, softer than when you were first crying, but the frustration is clear. He reaches out to touch your hand, but you push his hand away. 

“No!” You choke, sobbing harder when you try to compile your thoughts. “Five seconds to destroy all of it! It makes me wonder if everything we shared, our friendship, was it ever even that strong?”

Your anger simmers to sadness, as evident with how your yelling fades into whispering in the last sentence. 

“I can’t even tell you when exactly those five seconds were. I mean, I know…but…I don’t. Where did it go wrong, Spence?” 

“I don’t know.” Is all he can say after a beat of silence.

He knows exactly where it went wrong. 

“Yeah, me neither!” You sniffle, immediately wiping a single tear that manages to escape. “So again, it doesn’t matter.” 

“When you took it back.”

“What?” 

“That’s where everything changed for me. You showed up at my apartment drunk, after your date with Nathan. Your exact words were ‘I mean as an amazing friend’.” His voice strains like he’s forcing himself to speak. 

Your gaze falls, eyes darting everywhere as you try to jog your memory beyond the one sentence you remember. 

“I don’t understand.” You croak.

“You know, if I wasn’t who I am, maybe you could love me the way I love you.” He chuckles bitterly, fighting back tears of his own. “That was– that was, uh, what you said before you took it back.”

“Spence, please…” You whine without sound, tilting your head back and chewing on your lip as a final attempt to stay composed. 

“No, you wanted to know where it went wrong.” He laughs falsely to downplay his tears. “You can say it doesn’t matter all you want, but the fact is, it does matter. It matters to me and I won’t let you run from it anymore.” 

You can’t look at him. Not with tears free falling down your face. You cup your hands together in your lap, pressing your fingers and nails together. 

“You told me that I couldn’t love you.” You struggle to sound your words. 

“I’m an idiot.” Another chuckle, but he sounds defeated. “When you said that, all I could think about was how badly I wanted to say that I do love you.” 

You tearfully laugh at this admission. 

“I only took it back because of what you said. I panicked. I thought I’d ruined things…which I guess, I still did.” Another laugh from you.

Spencer responds with the same regretful sound. 

The irony spurs another fit of giggles amongst you, this one slightly longer and infinitely more rueful than the last. You look anywhere but at each other until it grows quieter. 

“If you loved me, why the fuck would you tell me that I couldn’t love you?” You sound just as, if not more, defeated than him. 

“Love.” Spencer corrects without missing a beat. 

Your brows twitch up and your heart jumps. 

“I was so hung up on every single part of your sentence that I didn’t know what to say first.” He proceeds to answer you without leaving much room to process what he said. “I wanted to tell you that I do love you. I love you as you are. Not as somebody else.”

“But you didn’t say any of that.” You ignore all his admissions, not fully comprehending. 

“Like I said, I’m an idiot. I was in so much disbelief and that was the first thing that came out of my mouth.” He sullenly huffs.

You don’t reply, sniffling with your head down. 

“For like a second, I had everything I wanted. Then you took it back and it was like my whole world had been ripped out from under me. In those five seconds, you’d given me a taste of what I’d spent four years convincing myself I couldn’t have and I just– I couldn’t go back after that.” He adds after a stillness. 

After a short while, your focus shifts from your hands to the board in front of you. The game’s been long forgotten. You’re immersed in the conversation, in spite of how strenuous it is. 

“I understand why you were distant, even mean, at first.” You snivel. “But after a while you just became downright cruel.” 

Spencer doesn’t shy away from your gaze when you do look at him. His skin is as drenched from crying as yours is. 

“I mean ‘I don’t want to see your face’? I know that I don’t really have a leg to stand on anymore, but, what the fuck Spencer?” 

He doesn’t cringe any less with every reminder. He’s truly regretted the words since they left his mouth. 

“I wanted to hurt you.” He reveals. “I thought you were being deliberately cruel and I wanted you to feel exactly how I was feeling.”

“Deliberately?” 

He nods, hanging his head.

“I thought that you knew how I felt and were just trying to be funny or something.” 

“Well I didn’t. I wasn’t.” You cut him off with a constricted voice.

“Even if you did, it’s not an excuse.” His eyes are glistening from the outpour of tears, but he still lifts his sights back to you. “I’m sorry.” 

You don’t know how to acknowledge his apology at all. You’re not even angry anymore, all you feel is sorrow and regret for the way everything happened. An entire friendship down the drain due to an unfortunate set of circumstances. 

“This is so fucked up.” You say with another mordant laugh. “All of this could have been avoided if we just talked about it.”

It stung less when you had somebody to blame for it. Your vision blurs and you make no effort to clear it, letting yourself cry openly. 

“We’re talking about it now?” It’s almost a squeak, the way it’s spoken.

“Yeah, but,” your shoulders slump, defeatedly, and you have to pause to control your sob, “what good does it do now? I’ve already lost the best thing that’s ever happened to me in the most pathetic way possible.”

“I’m right here.” He counters in such a small voice that it gives your goosebumps. 

“Spencer, too many things have been said…”

“When you first joined the team, I instantly knew I liked you.” 

He chews on his lip and darts his eyes around while he contemplates if he wants to continue. 

“I thought it was because of your kind nature. You were so sweet to everybody.” He decides he does, but his voice shakes throughout. “You have this gift…you make people feel so good about themselves. Whenever you spoke to me, I felt like the most important person in the world. It was impossible not to like you.”

You want to pretend like you don’t know where he’s going with this. You want to stop him, but your voice is stuck in your throat.

“It wasn’t until you bought me coffee for the first time that I realised just how much I liked you.” He chuckles again, as he reminisces in the memory. “You didn’t even get my order right until the fourth time, but it was still my favourite cup of the day.”

“You make me sound like a saint.” You finally choke out, attempting to play down the confession so it doesn’t crush your heart. “The only reason I even started bringing you coffee is because you learned how I like my coffee first.” 

“Not a saint, an angel. I’ve fallen so deeply in love with you that there are times where it genuinely feels like I’m in the presence of an angel.” 

It’s stated with such sincerity that it knocks the wind out of your pipes. Your eyes are widened and you’re biting your tongue with your mouth closed, staring at him with your chin tucked. He seems so confident, even with the glistening from previous tears in his eyes.

“I wanted to be in your life in any way you would have me. Even when it meant that I had to accept you with other people. And it was bearable, until…” His reminiscence only ends at the memory of the night that changed everything. “Like I said, I couldn’t go back.”

The last part fades into another whisper, only then do you find the courage to speak up. 

“Exactly.” You stick to your denial. “It can’t go back to how it was before.”

Your heart is so sure of what it wants, but your head is blinded by fear. You’re at a crossroads, except one path, the path that leads to everything you long for, is clouded with a fog of uncertainty. The other path is so painfully clear, you can practically see what’s on the other side. A fresh start, where the risk of fucking up further doesn’t exist. What you don’t see is Spencer.

“Good. I don’t want it to go back to how it was.” 

Spencer’s waiting for you to enter the fog. He’s going to be there holding your hand every step of the way. 

“I’ve already handed in my resignation.”

“That matters less than everything you’ve claimed doesn’t matter.” He leans in, intensifying his eye contact. 

“I’m pretty sure Hotch is really close to confirming my replacement.” You comment half-heartedly. 

You’re trying anything to dissuade both him and yourself from acknowledging the obvious, but he doesn’t plan on letting you avoid it. 

“I love you.” He whispers softly.

“Spencer…” You begin when he takes hold of your hands and whatever you had to say disappears from your tongue. 

“I love you. With every atom that makes up my body.” He repeats himself with further elaboration to instil it in your mind.

“I’m scared.” You whisper back with a sob, finally accepting it. 

“Why?” His voice can’t be any softer, but it still cracks a little.

“Because, you can’t guarantee that it’s going to end well.” You allow your vulnerability to peek through. “And that’s going to hurt more. I’d rather leave now than fall deeper.”

Although you didn’t say it back, it’s an indirect admission that you love him too. And it’s enough for him to fight harder.

“I know that my credibility isn’t the greatest,” he coaxes a small, sad scoff out of you, “but I truly believe that this, us, we’ll work. Because I know that I’m going to do everything I can to make this work.”

He feels bolder when you don’t pull away from his touch, folding your fingers into your palms and cupping over them. You observe the sight as it unfolds in lieu of a verbal response. 

“I’ve spent four years judging any man that comes into your life, wishing I was in their place, swearing I would treat you better than all of them.” 

Spencer feels the need to fill in the silence and he lets honesty guide his confession. He leans in further as if he’s indulging his deepest secret. 

“Four years wasted wondering what could be, cursing out those idiots, but taking no action to make it happen. And that makes me the biggest idiot out of all of them.”

When he speaks like this, with his big, imploring eyes and prayerful tone, it melts your heart to a point where it almost hurts. The more he talks, the more you begin to lean in, opening yourself up to him.

“It took losing you to realise how badly I fucked up and for that I will never forgive myself. I know that I have no right to ask you to waste any more time on me…”

There’s no more resistance against the pull you both physically feel to each other. 

“...but I’m begging you for a chance to do today what I should have done way before yesterday.” 

Your faces grow closer by the second, you can feel each other's breaths against skin.

“And I’m going to spend every tomorrow proving what I said today.” 

The likelihood of him changing your mind with one conversation wasn’t very high, both you and Spencer knew this when you got into it. You’re not entirely surprised when he somehow manages to overcome those odds too. You take the step to close the gap and lightly press your lips to his. 

It starts off soft, there’s no lust, no ulterior motive behind it. It’s a simple confirmation that you’re both present and this is real. Spencer doesn’t shy away from the kiss, not that you’d call this a kiss. It feels more intimate, more unguarded.

Spencer pulls you onto his lap as he shifts and leans back against the backrest to allow more room for you. You wrap your arms around him and the kiss deepens. In the midst of you straddling him, he slides the entire chess board off the couch and the pieces scatter on the floor. It’s only when you feel that the kiss can’t bring you any closer to him does the lust emerge. It fuels a desire to prove that you both whole-heartedly belong to each other. 

There’s no pinpointing when the switch happens. All you know is that the feeling of his lips against yours is no longer enough. You cup his jaw in your hands, swiping your tongue on his lower lip and it causes his grip on your waist to tighten. He parts his lips for you and it starts what you can only call a dance with your tongues. 

Your breathing grows hotter, your hips subconsciously grind against him. There’s a prominent bulge that brushes against your heat and you whine into his mouth. Spencer grunts your name in response and then abruptly pulls away.

“Wait, wait, wait, slow down.” He breathlessly whispers against your lips. 

“What?” You whisper back with concern. “What’s wrong?”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He gazes into your eyes, afraid that you might regret this later.

“I’ve never been more sure, actually.” You’re confident at first but the look in his eyes makes you pull back further. “Unless…you’re not sure?”

“No, don’t misunderstand me. I want you.” His tone rises just above the previous whisper with his clarification. “It’s just that the last thing I want to do is take advantage of you when our emotions are running high.”

“Four years, Spencer.” You lean in again, just brushing your lips against his. “The only reason you should be making me wait is if you’re not sure.”

He shuts that idea down by crashing his lips on yours. The kiss is so hungry, so desperate, it’s everything both of you have longed for and denied yourselves everytime you’ve been in each other's presence. It doesn’t take long for hands to start to roam. He traces the curve from your waist to your hips, stopping just at the hem of your shirt, tugging it like he’s asking for permission. 

You rush to undo your buttons and he meets you halfway, starting at the bottom. His fingers brush against yours as you two reach the final button and you pull the fabric off yourself. You do the same with his shirt, lips remaining locked, except for the small gasps of air you take in between. It requires a bit more manoeuvring with him, but you’re both soon shirtless. 

His mouth travels to your jaw and you shut your eyes from pleasure as he continues down to your neck. The stubble on his chin tickles your skin. You cup it, gently pushing him away with a giggle. 

“Forget to pack a razor in your bag, Dr. Reid?” Your voice is teasing, more playful than seductive.

He chuckles, airily, hiding his groan. He knows you’re being sarcastic, but the use of his title, with your voice in this context, catches him off guard. You moan as you feel his growing bulge against your heat when his arms tighten around your waist, pulling you into his kiss. You swiftly undo the clasp of your bra, but before you can take it off, Spencer grabs you from just below the hips and lifts you up off him, gently laying you down on the seat of the couch. 

There’s no room for hesitation as his lips find your neck again and he nips at the skin. Every suckle earns him short gasps and the grip in his hair tightens as he travels lower. He stops just above your breast, pulling himself up to sit on his knees. You stare up at him with a heated gaze, the nail of your thumb resting between your teeth with your lips parted to make up for the loss of his lips. 

He reaches for your bra strap and begins pulling slowly, searching your eyes for any signs of you withdrawing consent. All he sees is how beautifully they sparkle when you give him a light nod. It’s been too long since he’s seen the stars that you hold in your eyes, stars he accustomed himself to before he even got to properly know you. 

Gazing into his eyes, you’ve never felt more sure, more safe. You trust him implicitly and you’ve never wanted anything more. His constant need to make sure you're comfortable sends shivers down to your core. He slides the garment off you and Spencer’s beyond grateful that he’s already on his knees, knowing that if he was standing he’d fall to them because of the sight below him. 

His eyes don’t falter once, he’s trying to permanently etch this moment into his brain. He hovers his fingers above your body, thumb brushing against your hardened nipple and you softly whine. He looks awestruck, almost like he doesn’t believe what’s happening. You can’t help but wonder if he thinks your boobs look weird. 

“Beautiful.” The words fall out of his mouth in a whisper, as if on cue. He’s really just thinking out loud.

Before you can respond he lowers down and plants a small peck to your sensitive nub before taking it into his mouth. You gasp again, head lolling back in pleasure. One of your hands goes for his hair, while the other clings to his hand that’s already holding yours. He switches between sucking, pulling and squeezing; rolling it between his tongue and uses his teeth to squeeze ever so slightly.

“S–spencer.” A strangled moan falls from your lips. 

You tug his hair, whining and moaning as your hips roll against the strain in his pants. When your motions become continuous, he lets out his own strained groan and is forced to release your nipple with a small ‘pop’. 

“Angel, I really need you to stop doing that.” He murmurs in your ear with a gentle, gravelly tone.

As soon as the nickname reaches your ears your hips involuntarily buck up again, making his hips automatically push down against yours. His cock presses against your core and you both moan, his head falling against your shoulder.

“Spence, more.” You quietly whine in against his ear. “I need more.” 

“More?” He echoes back, turning his head so that your lips brush past each other when speaking. 

“Mhm.” You nod weakly as he brushes a strand of hair out of your face and weakly connects his lips with yours.

Even when he’s got you vulnerable and at your most compromised, he’s still as gentle as ever. You don’t feel him undo your pants or sneak his hand in them, but you definitely feel him press the pads of his fingers against your clothed clit. Air escapes through your nose in a huff of surprise and you hum in his mouth, hips jolting at his touch. He can feel your slickness through your underwear. 

“Oh, my pretty girl.” He sighs, breaking the kiss and directing his whispers in your ear again. “All wet for me?”

“Please..” Even with your broken whimper you beg him for more. 

“Like this?” His deft fingers swipe your panties to the side, fingers landing directly on the clit this time. 

They feel cold at first. The contrast against your heated body makes you squirm and you groan in a soft, high pitch. 

“What are you feeling right now?” He pries a verbal response from you, circling your bud lightly. “Tell me.”

“Good.” You sigh, eyes shut as you try to savour the pleasure. 

“Good?” His voice is still soft against your ear.

“Mhm.” You nod, one arm draping against his shoulder and the other hand running along his scruffy jaw. “So good.” 

“And this?” He adds pressure to his movements. “Does this feel good?”

Your hips buck again and he feels rewarded when you moan. There’s no doubt that the sound of your voice is his favourite. He especially loves it when it’s directed at him. Whether that be in the form of a laugh or your sweet moans. It makes him somewhat dizzy. His lips attach to the skin just under your jaw in an attempt to coax more. 

It’s very effective. Fingers working your bundle of nerves, circling and flicking while changing the pressure, and mouth kissing and sucking near your pulse. It makes your back arch, hand gripping his shoulder so you don’t float away. He’s careful not to leave any purple traces of him on your neck, mindful of you being bombarded with questions from your colleagues.  

“I love how reactive you are, Angel. You sound divine– fuck.” He can’t help the grunt that escapes him. “You are divine.”

His touch alone is enough to make you feel electric, but the sweet nothings he’s whispering in your ear will be what send you over the edge. It’s a foreign feeling, being reminded that he values you for more than just your body. Just under an hour ago you had incredibly high walls built around you and none of them are left standing as you exposed under him.

Spencer’s not the first man to touch you, but he is the first that loves you. It’s something you’re not at all used to and it feels as overwhelming as it does good. It transcends the want, no, the need for the man on top of you beyond lust or love. You plan to show him just how strong that need is tonight. 

The carpeted floor is littered with your clothes, carelessly thrown around and tiny chess pieces scattered around the abandoned chess board. Spencer’s comfortably lying on the couch, facing the ceiling and you’re lying directly on top of him with your face buried in his neck. 

You run your fingers back and forth along his jaw, scratching his beard in slow streaks. He’s enveloped you in his arms, one around your lower back and the other playing with your hair. It doesn’t feel as peaceful as it seems, both of you are afraid of being the first to speak. You know you can’t stay like this forever and you decide to bite the bullet. 

“Spencer?” 

You only get silence from his end. You know he’s awake because his motions in your hair don’t stop. You push yourself up to face him, trying to study his face. The sudden movement brings him back from wherever he was zoned out to. 

“Hm?” His features jump.

Does he regret it?

“What’s wrong?” Your voice shakes from worry. “You have this look on your face.” 

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m just thinking.” 

“About…?” 

“How bad we are at communicating.” He chuckles. “It’s concerning when you think about how all we ever do is talk.” 

Hearing this makes you snort and you fall into him again. It sends both of you into a short fit of laughter. 

“Oh that’s promising for the success of this relationship.” You giggle, sarcasm evident. 

Hearing relationship makes Spencer inhale sharply. 

“So you’re staying?” 

“Well obviously, Dingbat.” You scoff playfully at the question and shift upright, straddling him. “But we really do need to get better at the communication thing for this to work.”

Spencer mounts his weight on his hands by either side of him and pushes himself up to you, stealing a deep kiss. 

“Yes, we absolutely do.” He whispers, breaking away for only a second. 

The kisses fizzle in you a plethora of smaller kisses. 

“Spencer, I’m– serious.” You voice in between, loosely draping your arms on his shoulders. 

“I am too.” He says in a hushed tone as he pulls away. 

“I want to take it– this,” you motion between the two of you with your finger, “us, slow. Not four years slow, but, like, by a couple of months at the very least.”

“Okay.” He agrees, his eyes scouring your face with complete adoration. It’s not ideal, but he understands where you’re coming from. 

“That means that we start again. Romantically. We have to talk about a lot of things first.” 

He shifts his body out from under you, resting his back properly against the couch and pulls you back into his lap in one swift motion. Both of his hands graze from your shoulder to your wrist.

“How about…you come over this weekend,” He suggests, wrapping his arms around your waist for a hug, “we’ll do snacks, a movie, maybe an actual game of chess.” 

“That sounds like a date.” You wrap your arms around his neck to return the gesture and lean your forehead against his. 

“It’s not a date. Not yet, anyways.” He whispers. “I’m asking you to come over this weekend so we can talk about things properly, because frankly, I don’t think either of us is in the right headspace for it right now.” 

“Should I be offended at that?” You giggle, not entirely sure what he’s alluding to. 

“No!” He snorts with a high tone. “Dopamine aside, our Norepinephrine and Serotonin levels are too high right now for us to have a proper conversation about this.” 

“I’m not saying that you’re wrong, because you’re not, but I also think you’re just using science to try and confuse me, so that I agree to wherever this speech is heading.” 

“It’s times like this where your attentiveness puts me at a disadvantage, because this tactic has a hundred percent success rate on everybody else.” He grins and you chuckle, both leaning in for another kiss. 

“Can we hold off on starting over? Just for tonight.” He reluctantly voices, not wanting to push any boundaries. 

You draw back and raise your eyebrows with your eyes widened. 

“Spence, I have waited for years for this. You’re insane if you think I’m giving that up without relishing in it for at least a night. We’re not starting over until we’re both officially back on the clock.” 

“Okay.” He heaves from relief, leaning in for another kiss, but quickly withdraws with a new question. “Don’t you think the team’s going to be suspicious when we’re not fighting tomorrow?”

“Forget them, what am I gonna say to Hotch when I ask to withdraw my resignation?” You huff out a tiny groan. “He’s gonna hate me for all this paperwork.”

Paperwork reminds you why you’re here to begin with. You audibly gasp, jumping off Spencer and scrambling to put your clothes back on. 

“Fuck! Spencer, get dressed!” 

Spencer doesn’t share your panic, but adheres to your demand. You mutter a continuous line of obscenities as you throw on your clothes and when you don’t seem to be getting calmer, he intervenes. 

“Hey, hey, hey!” He coos as he steps towards you, still undressed on the upper-half. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong is that we’ve been here for hours!” You shriek, now fully dressed. 

You push past Spencer and grab his shirt, deciding that he was too slow on his own. He lets you dress him as he probes further. 

“That’s okay. No one’s going to notice this late.” 

“No– Spence–” You sigh, throwing your head back. “In less than four hours, Hotch is going to walk into his office expecting the Anchorage report on his desk. I’ve barely been able to get half of it done in weeks, how am I going to finish it in four hours?”

You shake your head and begin working on his buttons. He grabs your wrists, urging you to look at him. 

“You’ll have it done in less than one. I’ll help you!” His voice is light, airy, soft and accompanied with a chuckle.

“Spencer, you’ve already been here later than you need to be. It’s okay–”

“Let me help you.” He resorts to pleading, releasing your wrists and cupping your face.

You don’t have it in you to argue, his eyes staring back at you with sincerity. He wants to help. There’s no point in pushing him away, because as scared as you are about being too vulnerable with your trauma from that case, you trust him wholeheartedly. You know he won’t push for more than what you choose to share right now.

“Okay.” You nod and smile into the kiss he leans in for after the confirmation. 

“Okay. Now, you go and start some coffee.” he instructs softly with a wide grin, waving to the scattered chess ensemble. “ I’m going to clean up here and join you.”

“I love you!” You lean for another kiss and hushedly exclaim as you break away, receding towards the door. 

It’s Spencer’s turn to lose his breath. He’s affirmed his love for you countless times tonight and this is the first time you’ve verbally reciprocated it. He knows that it won’t be the last time either. That, to him, makes him the luckiest man in the world. He stops you from going any further by your arm and gently yanks you in his direction, crashing his lips with yours. 

“I love you too.” He whispers after the kiss, letting you go. 

Heat rises in your face again and you struggle to hide a huge dopey smile, one that Spencer has too. You’re floating on cloud nine, finally out of the blurry hurricane you’ve endured for months. There’s still a lot of things that you need to work out, but the thought of them doesn’t make you feel dread like it once did. 

"One word frees us of all the weight and pain in life. That word is Love." - Socrates

Spoilers: Yapperoni (so much dialog in this chapter), BAU! Reader, enemies (kinda) to lovers, hurt, comfort, love confessions (they might be a little too sappy, idk, I was sleep deprived), the praise made me giddy at some point, smut but I edge you by not writing out everything, happy ending.

AN - I have a little tiny fear that people (me) will nawt (I don’t) fuck with this monstrosity, but out of all my drafts, this felt like the most natural course of action. I thought it would be really fun to go from friends to enemies to lovers. Now, literally nobody talk to me about writing fics after this. Uni’s started, so I’ll be very inconsistent for a bit. Casual reminder: I am not Spencer Reid. I don’t have an IQ of 187. Any facts I make him spew could very well be bull-shit and he only spews them for the purpose of the story. I also have no knowledge of how the FBI works and lack a ton of common sense. A lot of things were made up for the purpose of this story.

A comment today keeps semicolon away (from showing up to your house and eating all your snacks).

Thank you for reading!

[sofie-toffy]

Mizu Headcanons

AN: Broo ive just finished blue eye samurai and im obsessed w it..so here are some headcanons! SHE WAS SO FINE IN THE LAST SCENE BTW UGHH

(I’ll be separating it based on genre eg. angst or fluff)

Warnings: Angst, Contains mentions of death & murder, spoilers! The fluff is x reader

(if you know me irl, no you don’t)

Angst:

- Mizu often thinks about how life would be if she chose to forgave her husband and didn’t kill him

- After Ringo leaving her she feels awful for what she’s done and wishes that she could let go of her revenge path but cannot

- Once Mizu’s “mother” betrayed her and Mizu killed her, she still had the motive of killing her father, but instead of the motive to avenge her mother it was to curse the man that made her live in the first place

- She understood that she never should’ve been born in the first place and was born as monstrous, hence her obsession with revenge. But there is obviously a part of her that wants to live a peaceful life

- She normally has panic attacks but no one has ever witnessed them except Swordfather

- When she was with her husband (the night before the sparring) that was the only time she felt loved for who she was

- She wanted to show who she really was as her husband asked to, and once she did she was called “a monster” and now she’s reluctant to show anyone even half of who she really is

- She overworks herself to the point of exhaustion and most times collapses, forgetting to eat and rest

- Whenever she checks her reflection, she imagines herself with brown/black eyes

- (Canon) she wears the same clothes she wore since she was a child and stitches them whenever they tear

- because of her binder she often has trouble breathing but she’s so used to it she thinks it’s normal

- She once wanted to gouge her eyes out so she won’t witness the looks of disgust when they see her eyes

- She’s entirely convinced that there’s no way she’ll ever be truly loveable. She’s convinced she’s monstrous in every way, from the hues of her blue eyes to the violence she bears

(MY POOR BABY I LOVE HER SM I JUST WANNA SEE HER HAPPY N SATISFIED 😭😭)

Fluff/Not angst(finally)

- Love language is quality time & acts of service

- Although she’s not aware of it, she has an unconscious fixation with music. Mizu has always been drawn to musical festivals and it both calms and excites her

- If given the time, she normally asks if you want to go to festivals (her unnamingly pleading for you to agree) and her face is relaxed the whole time, her fingers intertwined with yours

- I feel her normal dates with you would be very simple. She’d enjoy just spending time with you, quietly or with small chatter

- She loves stargazing with you. My god. Laying beside each other, feeling each others warmth contrary to the harsh snow as you look at the different constellations

- Actually, you’d be looking at the constellation while she looks at you with a small smile tugging at her lips, while she adores the light in your eyes as you gaze up

- Speaking of holding hands she LOVES to hold your hand, doesn’t matter if your hand is cold or warm, it intertwines with hers perfectly

- Whenever you compliment her eyes she doesn’t believe you until you say it a thousand times

- takes a LONG time to warm up to you, but once she does it is SO worth it

- unconsciously misses your warmth, once sleeping she searches for your hand to hold or for you to hug

- speaking of hugging, i think she can be both spoons but mostly big spoon

- loves resting her head on your chest but loves wrapping her arms around you, ensuring that you are safe

AN: GUYS I NEED HER SO BAD U DONT GET IT

[sunrise-imagines]

I have a big fat crush on Simon and Finn would you please do some hcs for either of them

Since I’ve already done some for Finn, I think now is a good time to write a little for Simon! Watching him become the latest Tumblr Sexyman™️ has been a dream come true.

*Ending contains spoilers for the last two episodes of Fionna and Cake*

TW: Trauma (this is Simon “‘My fiancé turned into a cosmic deity’ ‘That’s rough buddy’” Petrikov we’re dealing with), mentions of Depression, hurt/comfort

Simon Petrikov x Reader General Relationship Headcanons

• Oh boy, this one’s a doozy.

• Please be patient with him. He is a mess of a person currently, still dealing with the grief of losing Betty and feeling like he doesn’t belong in Ooo no longer being magic. He gets so wrapped up in his sadness that he can neglect the relationships he has in the present. This gets much better after the ending though.

• Self care days are a must, please just pamper this man with a nice hot bath and a massage every once in a while.

• Really good cook, he loves making food for you and it makes him feel like he can actually take care of you.

• He worries about you a lot, especially if you’re someone that likes to take risks and do dangerous stuff.

• He’s a big nerd so he gets excited if you share interests in stuff like science and literature.

• Although he doesn’t like to go on life-threatening adventures (Finn), he still loves the exploring the outdoors and the two of you regularly go for hikes around the safer parts of Ooo.

• Will be very happy if you also have a good friendship with Marceline, seeing his partner and adoptive daughter interact touches his heart.

• Such a simp for you, like if you ask him for anything he will make it his mission to fulfill your request

• His love language is definitely words of affirmation. He needs you to tell him how much you care about him and he loves saying the same to you. He could go on for hours about every little thing he loves about you.

• Marcy and Bonnie will come over for dinner a few times a week, sometimes joined by Finn and HW as well.

• He hates celebrating his own birthday (he’s turning 60) but he loves yours and will definitely bake you a cake and throw small birthday party for you. The party only consists of a few close friends but if you don’t like parties he’s perfectly fine with it being just the two of you.

• At first he wasn’t sure if you would even want to date an old man like him, but as time went on he became more confident in himself and that he deserves love just as much as anyone else, and he’s more than happy to share that love with you.

Bonus!

• Despite her current state, GolBetty is immensely happy seeing Simon finally able to move on and be happy.

• Even if they never got their happy ending, the fact that you and him are able to live happily together brings her peace, and she trusts you to take care of him.

[luffyvace]

Luffy x reader x Zoro

yup ur relationship is basically this gif right here 😋

anyway uh y’all really like the sanji x reader x zoro so now i’m doing a version with luffy

the zoro simps are all over my acc?? 😭😭 anything zoro y’all on it. i don’t blame y’all tho ☝️i actually very appreciate all of you :)

contains (big) spoilers at the end for wano, (manga readers are fine)

your relationship is pure chaos

if you don’t mind the chaos all is well

you can try to take luffy out on a date but it won’t end well

either all YOUR money is blown off on food

yes YOURS because luffy ran out of the diner

or you guys end up fighting some other pirates or marines

you can’t keep him still for a minute

zoro gets the concept more but..

NO HE DONT

anyway

will hardly try to be romantic unless you display that it upsets you

”you said you wanted to eat out, so we’re eating”

assumes you were just hungry so he doesn’t treat it much like a date

dont let him lead the dates

YOU plan it out

he’s for sure getting you lost if you don’t

you’ll probably end up fighting some guys too

if you go on a date with them together

expect nothing less then them either arguing, getting into a fight with someone, not paying and definitely not acting like this is a date

outside of chaotic dates tho

you get chaotic energy and adventures from luffy

luffy sees something cool

drags you along with him

zoro follows saying you two’ll get lost

and you all end up into trouble <3

nami scolds you three

she tells you, you were supposed watch over these meatheads

not JOIN THEM

💥💥💥 😓😓😅 😡

you know the context.

you’ll get all the physical affection in the world from luffy

even if you don’t want it- mwah! shishishishi!

with zoro it’s pretty much the opposite 😎

LOL

yeah if your affectionate person you have luffy

if not use zoro as a kiss shield

Luffy forces you to play with him because your like, his favorite person

Zoro forces you to train with him because your like, his favorite person

unless your highly expressive about your opinion like nami, robin or sanji

you WILL do such tasks with them 🤪

Luffy asks “are ya hungry” in front of sanji to get food out of him

especially if your a female

if not your probably not as annoying with food as Luffy is so sanji won’t mind fixing you a quick snack if it’s not close to dinner

Zoro tells you about Kuina

Luffy tells you about Shanks, Ace n Sabo

you probably tell them your past as well

Luffy praises and celebrates with you anytime your bounty goes up

Luffy probably doesn’t ask if you want a bath he just hops in when you do

makes a game and mess out of it

calls it a bath party

you have to force zoro to take a shower

even more so after he trains

which is like all the time

its not that he doesn’t want to he just doesn’t think he needs to

‘im not musty enough’

‘i dont smell bad yet’

DO YOU HAVE TO BE IN ORDER TO CLEAN YOUR BEHIND???

if you don’t nip it in the bud quick fast it becomes a problem

they both protect you with your life

at this point you could punch a god and get away with it ain’t nobody gonna lay a hand on you

you got the protection of the straw hat pirate’s captain and first mate on you

if you don’t feel safe i don’t know what’ll make you

(Wano arc) Spoilers‼️:

don’t look unless your caught up with the anime

god forbid somebody hurt you

and i’m talking SUN god. Nika ☀︎

spoiler over :)

A/N:

hopefully you enjoyed!! some more topics from my list will be coming out

as well as some i randomly thought of. LOL

[lesbianhotch]

and fish is my favorite perfume

wrecker gets back from a mission a little worse for wear (wrecker x fem reader, established relationship, spoilers for 3x08, fluff, wrecker sweetness, smooches, a little steamy)

“Ok, so can you explain it one more time?”

Wreckers voice is dulled by the sound of the running fresher, but not by much. You can hear him well enough through the cracked open door from your spot on the stool you’ve pulled up next to it. 

“They were HUGE! Big terrible teeth and one of ‘em grabbed Hunter, but I jumped right on it and showed it who’s boss.”

You nod along, eyes moving to the basket full of laundry that seemed to be staring at you from a few feet away. 

“And they showed up because you were in the water, where you were-“

“-disarming floating mines.”

“And that's why you and your clothes and your armor smell like swamp.”

Wreck laughs, and you hear the wet sound of a washcloth being scrubbed harshly against skin.

“You got it!”

He returned to your home reeking of sulfurous muck and you had to open all your shuttered windows just to prevent yourself from gagging.

He’d frowned when you refused his usual kisses, but agreed to your terms of fresher first, hugs later. 

You’d pinched your nose and tossed the first empty basket you could find into the fresher, directing Wrecker to go inside and disrobe and put everything in the now muddy container. He’d very politely nudged it out before getting under the wet spray and you’d moved it far across the room. 

“I don’t think those clothes are salvageable. We oughta burn them.”

“Ah! That armor’s been through worse.”

You severely doubt that. 

But then again…

“I’ll be back,” you announce as you hop off from the stool, steeling yourself as you approach the stinking basket.

You haul it out of the house and into your modest front yard. If you’re honest with yourself, you don’t have a plan in place. A long soak in some fresh water is the best bet for a preliminary wash, but you don't have the energy for that at the moment. An hour or two outside will  have to do for now.

You just want your house free of stink, and your boyfriend clean and in your arms.

The sound of the fresher has stopped when you come back inside, so you come right up to the door and knock gently.

“Ok in there?”

“Ya asking if I still smell?”

 “Maybe,” you reply, unable to keep the cheeky edge of your voice hidden. 

You let yourself in, and you can’t stop the gasp that leaves your mouth.

Wreckers in front of the mirror, and you can just see yourself in it, despite him taking up most of the view. His armor did all it could, but the bruises on him are massive. Dark and purple, covering his chest and shoulders and arms. In some spots it almost blends into the hair that covers his chest and leads down onto his belly. His back is just as bad, a large misshapen mass in the center of it.

“Oh Wreck…”

He shrugs, clearly not wanting you to worry. “I’ve had worse. Just gotta get some bacta on ‘em.” 

You spy another one across his hip, disappearing down into the towel that's tied around him. 

You want to appreciate every inch of skin that’s on display in front of you. You want to appreciate the map of scars that you’ve committed to memory. You want to appreciate the droplets of water that are slowly making their way down Wreckers back to rest at the top of the towel. 

But your heart aches, and while he may be as fine as he says he is, it doesn’t negate the way you feel.

You’re still behind him, so you get on your tiptoes and press a firm kiss to the bruised shoulder, and Wrecker grunts.

You pull back immediately. “I’m sorry! Did that hurt?”

“No. Was nice. Just…didn’t expect it is all.”

You place a gentle hand on his back, doing your best to avoid the worst of it. “Can I do it again?”

You feel Wrecker nod, and you press a soft kiss to the mottled skin. You do another, and then another, following the shape of the bruise with your lips. 

Wrecker lets out a low groan, followed by a chuckle that makes your stomach flip.

“Don’t start something that I won’t be able to finish.” 

You pull back, internally chastising yourself. You know he’s hurting, and yet-

He interrupts your thoughts.

“I can already hear ya in that head of yours, pretty thing. I’m alright. Just need some rest.” He turns around to face you finally, and he leans down to press a kiss to the top of your head. “Don’t want ya to worry about me ok?”

You snort. “Yeah, like that will ever happen.” You lean back, tilting your face up and accepting your first kiss since Wreckers return home. “Now let’s get you into some clean clothes and into bed.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.”

[avastrasposts]

The Pilot and his Girl - ch. 19 **

I had a lot of fun writing this chapter because we've got some nice smut but also a long action sequence unlike anything I've written before and that was fun so I hope you enjoy it!

Please comment and reblog, I love hearing your thoughts on the story and my writing! And BIG thank you to all of you who continue to support this crazy little one shot that's now 19 chapters long.... (and growing).

Chapter 20

Series Master List

Word count: 6.6k

Warnings have their own post, but contain spoilers

Frankie meets you in front of the high school kitchen that same afternoon, you’re going to head over to the gym for another round of combat training with him. Even from a far you can see his big smile when he walks towards you.. 

“I talked to Benny!” he grins when he gets close, pulling you in as he wraps his arms around your waist. 

“Oh that’s amazing! How are they doing? Is Will with him?” 

“He sounded good, apart from when I asked about Will. He doesn’t know where he is, he went missing the evening of the outbreak.” Frankie sighs and pushes a strand of hair behind your ear as your smile slips.  “I guess that was expected since Ingrid didn’t hear about Will, but I was still trying to hope.” 

“Me too, and Ben didn’t sound hopeful about it being the guy Pope mentioned in New York. He said Will’s office building was on fire and there were lots of infected when he got there, he didn’t give me any details but ... .yeah, didn’t sound good.” He takes your hand and you walk over towards the double doors into the gym, “But I did get the paperwork for a transfer, just need to drop Pope’s form over to his place this afternoon, you wanna come with me after our session?” 

“Yeah, I’ll come, I haven’t been to that part of Franklin yet,” you say as he holds open the door for you, stepping into the empty gym hall. Large windows provide enough light for your needs, the electricity isn’t on for this part of the building most days. 

““You ready for this?” Frankie asks, dropping his bag on the floor. 

“No, I’m so tired from last night but you’re not gonna let me skip it are you?” you give him a mock scowl and he grins. 

“Not a chance, when we get to Arlington I’m gonna ask Benny to train you, Master Class style, and then you’ll need every trick I can teach you.” 

“Oh fuck it…just throw me to the infected now and be done with it…” you sigh and start jogging around the gym to warm up. 

Frankie puts you through your paces, making you drip with sweat as you punch and dodge around him. When he’s ready to let you practice breaking loose from his grip, your muscles are aching. 

“Frankie, I’m wasted, please, can we just call it a day?” You’re bent double, hands on your knees, breathing hard, after a final sparring match where Frankie barely pulled his punches.

“Five times, just break my grip five times and then we’ll call it,” he says, handing you a towel to wipe yourself down with. You pull your drenched t-shirt over your head, stripping down to your sports bra underneath, and Frankie’s eyes darken as he watches you pat your skin with the towel. 

You catch his eye and smirk, “If you wanna do something else, that’s totally fine with me too.” You let the towel slip over your cleavage and up along your neck, tilting your head back and from under your lashes you see Frankie open his mouth, the pink tip of his tongue coming out and swiping across his lower lip. 

“Tempting,” he says, reaching out and grabbing the towel from you and throwing it back towards his bag. “But not just yet, five times, c’mon.” 

Turns out being in only a sports bra makes things easier for you. Your sweat slick skin easily slips under Frankie’s fingers the first two times until he catches on and uses a different grip, pinning you to the floor as you scramble to hook your legs around him in the way he showed you earlier. You manage the grip but your muscles are too tired and Frankie too heavy, with a pathetic whimper you go limp under him. 

“I give, I can’t do any more today:” 

Frankie chuckles and loosens his grip, dropping down with his elbows on either side of your head. “What about this one, can you get out of this one?” he smiles, you’ve got your legs around his waist, his hips dropped into the cradle of yours and you can feel his rapidly growing hard on. 

“I don’t think so, unfortunately” you give him a mock sigh, shifting your hips under him and the friction between the two of you makes you both groan. Frankie drops down closer and brushes his nose across your cheek, down over your neck slick with salty perspiration, finding the spot under your ear where he always likes to leave a mark. 

“What about now?” he whispers, rolling his hips into you as his tongue comes out to taste the salt on your skin and you moan into the air as your hands find purchase in his damp curls.

“Frankie, we’re on the floor in the middle of the gym.” You can hear people walking past the double doors leading into the big hall and you’re suddenly very aware of how public you are if someone walks in. Frankie pushes up off the ground, grabbing hold of your hand as he rocks back on his heels and stands up. 

“Come,” he says, pulling you with him towards the locker rooms at the back, stopping to grab your bags off the floor.. You’ve never showered in here but you know there’s running water for those who use the gym. Now Frankie pulls you into the women’s section and locks the door behind you. 

“Take your clothes off, I wanna shower with you,” he smiles, dumping the bags on a bench and pulling his t-shirt over his head. You quickly strip, kicking your sneakers off and watch as Frankie unlaces his boots and stands to pull his pants off, his boxers tenting over his cock. You step closer, running your fingers under the elastic, slipping under and wrapping your hand around the heavy length as Frankie inhales sharply. You let your fingers stroke him up and down while your other hand pushes down his boxers, letting them pool around his feet. 

A hushed “Fuck,” escapes him as his head tips back, “Your hands are always so soft and warm.” 

“Not as soft and warm as other parts of me,” you smile, giving him a firmer stroke, making his eyebrows knit together as he groans. A bead of precum glistens on the tip and you swipe your thumb across it, gently rubbing it into the smooth skin. Frankie looks down at your hand wrapped around his thick cock, your thumb brushing over the head on every upstroke and you watch his eyes, they’re almost black, so dark there’s hardly anything left of the warm brown color. His lips are parted, the tip of his tongue resting on his bottom lip and on impulse you lean forward and kiss him, slipping your tongue against his, tasting his mouth, the sweat from his scruffy mustache on his lips. His hand comes up and grabs yours around his cock and wIth a firm grip he backs you into the showers, your lips still pressed together. There are no stalls, just a big, white tiled room with shower heads, and Frankie turns the knobs on the first one, letting the water run until it’s hot, pushing you up against the cold tiles. The warm water runs down your face and between your bodies, your hand still stroking him, the hard length twitching under your fingers. 

“Slow down, hermosa,” Frankie breathes against your lips, “or I won’t last much longer.” You loosen your hold, slowing down as Frankie lets his hands slide over your shoulders, up into your hair, kissing you gently while his tongue tastes yours. His hands slip down, caressing your neck, his calloused thumbs running down your sternum, finding your pebbled nipples hard under his touch. He lets his cock slip from your grip as he sinks down onto his knees and you move your hands to his wet hair with a sigh. With firm grip on your thigh he lifts one of your legs onto his shoulder, holding you steady with his hand on your hip. 

He looks up at you, blinking away the water droplets, “Is this what you want, cariño?” he asks with a smirk on his lips and you smile back with a nod, he knows full well this is exactly what you want from him and his cheeky grin as he dips his head makes you giggle. The tip of his nose runs along the inside of your thigh, his tongue following, swiping through the water cascading over you both. His teeth sink into the plush flesh, making you gasp and buck your hips against his grip. The hot swipe of his tongue soothes your skin after, even with the warm water running down you. You can feel the heat building in your core as the anticipation makes your legs quake under his firm grip. 

“Please, Frankie,” you whimper, his clever tongue always brings you close to your climax almost too soon, but this time you don’t want to fight it, just let him push you over the edge as fast as he wants too. Your grip on his hair tightens and you feel him chuckling against the soft skin where the thigh meets your heated core. 

“You can’t get out of this grip, my sweet girl, so sweet tasting,” he smiles up at you, teasing at the top of your pussy with his nose. 

When he finally slides through your wet folds you moan loudly enough for it to echo around the tiled shower room. His tongue unfurls and drags through your heat, the pointed tip flicking across your clit without warning, making you gasp, water raining into your open mouth. He loves pulling strings of incoherent sounds from your mouth while he works his way through every trick he knows will have you clenching around his tongue as he buries it as deep as he can get. His nose nudges your clit with every stroke of his tongue and when your grip on his hair tightens, he shifts his hold on your hips, opening his jaw and pushing in deeper. 

You feel your legs starting to shake and Frankie looks up at you, your eyes are closed, your head tilted back, shallow breaths lifting your chest as the tension starts to build in your core. You’re moaning his name, rocking your hips against his face and he keeps his eyes on you as he takes your clit in his mouth, applying more pressure and with a few skilled flicks of his tongue, he feels your tension break with a cry of his name. 

He eases you through it, letting his mouth bring you down slowly until he moves away, placing a warm kiss on the crease of your thigh, and getting to his feet with a groan. 

“Tiles are not ideal for this, remind me next time,” he groans and you hold out your hands, pulling him up with a breathless chuckle as you try to bring your breathing back to normal. His hands find your face, cupping your cheeks as he sinks his lips onto yours, even with the shower you can taste yourself on his lips and tongue and it makes heat run through your core again. Letting your own hand slip between your bodies you easily find his hard length, twitching under your fingers as you wrap your hand around it. He groans into your mouth as you slowly pump it, his hips thrusting into your hand. 

“How do you want it, Frankie?” you mumble against his lips. 

“Turn around, against the wall,” he replies, pulling away and helping you turn, smoothing down his warm hand along your spin as you bend at the hips, leaning your forearms against the cool, white tiles. You can feel his hands roaming across the soft skin of your ass, grabbing the flesh and dimpling it under his large hands. One hand leaves your hip and the blunt head of his cock runs through your folds, making you push your hips back towards him, Frankie giving a low, appreciative groan. You turn your head and look back at him, his jaw is clenched and his eyes trained on where he’s slowly sinking into you, pacing himself to not push in to fast. The stretch makes you keen and gasp, he’s already big, but from behind he stretches you even more, hitting new nerve endings deep inside. You can feel your walls clenching around him, your body responding to the feeling of his cock pushing so deep. With a growl, Frankie sinks all the way in. His hands leave your hips and smooths along your sides, down over your breasts, cupping them under his wet hands. 

“Come closer, hermosa,” he whispers, gently pulling you up against his chest, his hips flush with your ass, the change in angle making you both gasp. Frankie wraps an arm around chest, one hand on your hips,and starts pumping, driving up into you, making you cry out with every thrust. You reach up and grab onto the back of his head, tangling your fingers into his wet curls, turning so that you can reach his lips, a messy kiss with shower water running over your faces, into your mouths and down your bodies. Frankie is breathing hard into you, his hands roaming over your skin, grabbing all that he can find before sliding down between your legs. With practiced motions he circles your swollen clit with, making your arch your back into him. 

“GIve me another one, cariño, I want to feel you come on my cock, take me with you.” His hips slam into you, his cock hitting nerves deep inside, and you feel the heat rush through you, his fingers slipping over your clit, tightening the coil inside. Frankie’s lips leave yours, trailing along your jaw as you squeeze your eyes shut, meeting every one of his thrusts best you can. Your rhythm falters as his fingers change their pattern, slipping down to feel where he’s pushing into you before sliding up to run firm circles around your pulsing bundle of nerves. With a groan against your ear, Frankie speeds up, breathing heavily through the pelting water from the shower head. As his teeth find your neck, that one spot only he seems to find, you snap, your body folding onto itself if it wasn’t for Frankie’s arm coming up to hold you tight to his chest. You whimper his name and his hand digs into your flesh, the heat of his spend flooding inside you, making you convulse around him again. Frankie groans, pumping his hips against you, trying to steady his legs on the tiled floor as he buries himself as deep as he can go in you. You hang your head, leaning it against the cool wall and Frankie’s hot cheek rests on your shoulder. 

With a low hiss Frankie pulls out and turns you around, wrapping his arms around your neck as he leans his forehead against yours. He’s dripping out of you, mixing with the water, and you close your eyes as a deep calm settles over you. Frankie is caressing your hair, running his fingers through your wet strands, humming contentedly under his breath. You reach up and find his lips with your eyes still closed, the soft, plush feel of his mouth familiar under your lips. 

You remain under the shower until it starts to run cold, making you quickly clean up, you shriek as the last minute is under ice cold water, rinsing shampoo out of your hair. Frankie wraps you in his big towel as you come out, rubbing his hands up and down your arms as he chuckles. 

“You’ll get warm as we walk over to Pope’s place,” he says, starting to dry off himself and you follow suit. 

It turns out Pope’s place is pretty close to the wall and tucked away in a part of the QZ that still hasn’t been cleared out very much. Frankie and you make your way past bombed out buildings and burnt cars before finally finding the right address. Pope’s on the first floor, his living room window looking out at the actual wall, dissecting a wide city street. He shows you around, the small one bedroom place that he clearly shares with a woman, but she’s not in this evening. Frankie lets his gaze wander around the apartment, taking in various items stacked in the corners of the rooms. 

“Lots of stuff here, Pope,” he comments and the younger man shrugs. 

“Just holding on to some stuff for some contacts, it’ll be gone by tomorrow.” 

“You know FEDRA doesn't take smuggling lightly, right?” Frankie says, his tone a warning, “If they suspect you’re into it they’re not going to approve your application for a transfer." 

“I’m applying under my real name, I’ll just say I was here on outbreak day and that there must’ve been a slip up in the system. If Benny vouches for Santiago Garcia, it won’t be an issue.” 

“Ok, but I won’t be able to help you if your transfer doesn’t go through, I’m applying with her as my fiancee and I’m not risking anything with that.” Frankie motions to you, you’re in the kitchen, helping Pope chop up a bunch of slightly wrinkled carrots for a stew he’s got going. 

“Sin problemas, hermano, it’ll go through.” He brings out three glasses, “You guys staying for dinner right?” he asks, raising them questioningly to you and you look at Frankie who nods. 

“Yeah, sure, I’ve got a late shift tomorrow.” 

With the stew done Pope ladles it into bowls for the three of you, digging out some stale bread from a cupboard. “It’s a bit dry but guaranteed free from those fucking spores,” he says, handing it out. 

While you eat, Pope tells the two of you more about life inside the QZ. 

“In short, FEDRA are quickly making everybody who’s not FEDRA pretty pissed off. If they’d only let people trade more openly, what they find inside the QZ, they wouldn’t have an issue with smuggling.” Pope leans back and sips the whiskey he’s poured you all. “And a major part of the problem is that all their ‘soldiers’ are inexperienced rookies, hardly a real soldier among them, you must’ve picked up on that Frankie?” he raises his eyebrows at his friend and Frankie nods. 

“Yeah, I spend a lot of time training people who join FEDRA but really have no business in the army.” 

“Did you hear about the woman who got raped in FEDRA lock up?” Pope asks and you widen your eyes in horror. 

“What the fuck, Pope, what happened?” 

“She got caught smuggling two pairs of boots, nothing major, not like it was medicine or food.” Pope scowls, shaking his head. “And the jackass who picked her up, threw her in lock up instead of giving her a fine and letting her go home. Then the night shift came in to keep an eye on the prisoners, there were only two, this woman and a guy they caught stealing. And these two FEDRA guys, both new to the QZ, signed up to get inside, they took turns with her.” Pope’s hand clenches as his jaw tightens. “They threatened the thief, told him they’d bash his head in if he told anyone. The poor woman was a wreck when the day shift turned up, all beat up and bruised but wouldn’t say a word.” 

“Shit,” Frankie growls under his breath, his hand gripping your thigh as he glances over at you. You’ve got tears in your eyes, you can’t even, you don’t even want to, imagine the horror the woman must’ve gone through. The memory of the threats the looters had made while you were restrained at their house makes your skin crawl. Thank god for Frankie. 

“Once word got out, because her friends sure as hell guessed what had happened when she came back, there was nearly a riot. But FEDRA said the woman was lying, protected the men and did fuck all apart from squash all protests, cut rations, imposed a curfew, that one’s still in place by the way.” Pope nods at the window. “Speaking of which, you two should start heading back or you won’t make it back on time.” 

“Yeah, true,” Frankie says, pushing back his chair. 

“Thanks for dinner, Santi,” you say, getting up to hug him, “I know I said it yesterday, but it’s so good to see you safe and have you around again.” 

“Same to you, hermana,” he smiles, giving you a tight squeeze before turning to Frankie, giving him a bear hug. 

“Cuídate, el pececito,” he grins, ducking to avoid Frankie’s swipe at his head with a chuckle. 

“Cuídate, pendejo,” Frankie scowls, taking hold of your hand and flipping Pope the finger with a grin before you get ready to leave and make your way through the bombed out city.

The transfer process is faster than any of you expected, Frankie hands in the two applications, with Benjamin Miller as a reference in Arlington the next day, and it’s not even a week before the all clear comes through. Frankie’s commanding officer in Franklin is less than happy, scowling at him as he begrudgingly gives him his approval to leave. 

“If it wasn’t for the fact that you used to live in Arlington…” he sighs, “I would’ve denied this. I hate losing such an experienced officer, Morales. You’ve been a great asset in training the men and showing them the ropes.” 

“Thank you, sir,” Frankie replies, standing to attention in front of the man’s desk. “I’m anxious to get back to Arlington, as is my fiancee, and we still have friends there.”

“Well, best of luck to you, the transport will be taking you and supplies on Wednesday, if it all goes to plan. You’d better get packing.” 

“Thank you, sir.” Frankie snaps a sharp salute before he turns around and leaves. Three days to pack up should be plenty, neither of you have many things, mainly just a few clothes and shoes that’ll fit in the backpacks you got from the donation center. But there’s a knot of worry in the pit of his stomach. The actual journey to Arlington was going to be risky, even with an escort. Stepping out of the FEDRA headquarters he turned his face to the sky, closing his eyes for a minute. 

Am I doing the right thing but risking this trip with her? On my own, it wouldn’t matter, but with her…what if something happens to her? Fuck, don’t even let yourself go that way, Francisco, she wants to go and she won’t let me leave her behind,. Besides, as if I could leave her, I tried that already, for all the good it did. No, I won’t let anything happen, I’ll have her back and Pope will too. 

He drops his head back down and starts walking towards the high school kitchen to give you the news.

Wednesday morning three of you make your way to the main QZ gate where the convoy is waiting. There’s two army  trucks in your transport, hardly an actual convoy, but it feels safe enough and Frankie seems to be content with the security arrangements. The security isn’t for you three though, the trucks are loaded with supplies, mainly food, for Arlington. From what Frankie’s heard, Franklin has plenty of food, but hardly any medical supplies, Arlington still has a functional hospital, but a problem with their food supply so there’s regular trade between the two QZ’s. Hence the heavily guarded transports. 

The three of you are directed to the second truck along with a driver and a soldier up front. Frankie and Pope have been given automatic rifles to help guard the truck should anything happen. You’ve been given a small handgun, just in case, and Frankie gives you a quick refresher on how to use it.

“Grab it with both hands like this, remember?” he shows you, “Safety is here, and then just gently squeeze the trigger, ok?” 

“Ok, Frankie,” you say, nodding as you check the safety again and put it in the leg holster it came with. 

“You look like a bad ass with that gun,” Pope grins at you as he climbs into the truck bed behind you. You roll your eyes at him and settle into your seat. 

“I just hope I don’t have to use it because chances are I’ll hit you instead of what I’m actually aiming at.” 

“Just yell ‘Fore!’ before you fire, give me a chance to duck,” he chuckles, giving your shoulder a quick squeeze. “Don’t worry, just relax if you have to fire and you’ll do fine.” 

You laugh gratefully at Pope’s attempt at lighting the mood but Frankie remains quiet, his eyebrows knitted together in a worried look. You know the risks of this transport has been weighing on his mind, and it shows in the tense way he holds his shoulders as he triple checks his rifle and glances back at you. 

“If anything happens, get down on the floor and stay down, ok?” he says and you nod, even though it’s the fifth time he’s told you this in the past two hours. 

“I promise, Frankie, head down, make myself as small as possible.” 

“Ok, ok,” he says, his eyes drifting up towards the soldiers on the walls tasked with making sure it’s clear for the transport to leave the QZ. 

The gate creaks open after the all clear and the first truck rumbles out into the city. The first truck has a driver and five soldiers, from your seat behind the driver of your truck you can see four of them sitting under the covered truck bed, scanning the bombed out landscape as the trucks move away from the safety of Franklin QZ. Behind you, Frankie and Pope are on high alert too, you can hear their low conversation about potential threats during the three hour drive. 

The first couple of hours are quiet, only a few pockets of infected rush out towards the sound of the trucks and are quickly disposed of by the soldiers in the first truck. You can hear them cheer and celebrate after a particularly accurate shot but they all need at least three shots to take down any infected. 

“Wasting fucking bullets,” you hear Pope mumble under his breath at Frankie, who grimaces and takes aim at few stragglers running towards the trucks. They all go down with three consecutive head shots, efficiently shutting up the cheers from the truck in front. 

“Haven’t lost your touch, Catfish,” Pope grins, still scanning the surroundings for more infected. 

Frankie lowers his rifle and gives you an uncomfortable look, “They used to be regular civilians, Pope,” he says, dropping his gaze. Pope looks back at him and shrugs. 

“Yeah, of course, but they’re already gone, either we kill them or they kill us, you know?” 

“Yeah, I know, but they still look like civilians.” 

You reach over and put your hand on Frankie’s shoulder when Pope isn’t looking, giving it a light squeeze. He turns and opens his mouth to say something but his words are drowned out by an ear splitting explosion, the shock wave reverberating through your lungs. Frankie’s hands are on you in a split second, shoving you down in between the seats, you can see that he’s yelling something but your ears are ringing. The truck slams to a stop and between the seats you see the first truck flipped on its roof, engulfed in flames. Pope leans forwards and slaps the shoulder of the driver, you can see him yelling Drive! Drive! The truck lurches forward again, picking up speed, you fall sideways onto the truck floor as it swerves to the right to get around the burning wreck. A pick up truck suddenly shoots out of a side street in front of your one remaining truck, keeping its distance, it drives at high speed just in front of the army truck, something mounted on the flatbed. You can’t see what it is but there’s men on it and as you watch, dazed from the explosion, you hear the first loud cracks of  gunfire.

“Frankie! They’ve got a fucking mini gun! Shoot the gunner! Shoot!” Pope is roaring above you and you see both men crouch down and take aim, firing shots at the man handling the mounted gun on the pick-up. 

“Behind! Behind!” the driver of your truck suddenly yells and Frankie turns, a second pick-up is coming up from behind, two men in the truck bed with guns raised, 

“I got it!” Frankie yells, you see him crouch down to steady his aim, but the truck is lurching all over the road as the driver tries to avoid the gunfire from the pick-up in front. Frankie’s shots go wide and you hear him curse, your hearing slowly returning. A gasp from the front seat makes you turn and you see the soldier in the passenger seat slumped over, blood pouring out from a gaping hole in his chest. 

“Fuck!” The driver shouts, glancing over at his dead companion, “Kill the fucking gunner! We’re sitting fucking ducks here!” 

“Keep the truck steady, I’m trying,” Pope yells from above you, taking aim again. You're crouched down between the seats, trying to make yourself as small as possible, and Pope’s gunfire is loud in your ears above you.

“Fish, how’s it going back there?” Pope yells, his gun still trained on the pick-up truck in front.

“Two men down, I can’t hit the tires, we’re moving too much!” Frankie yells back. “Cariño, you ok?” He glances back at you and you meet his eyes, giving him a quick nod, he can see your terrified face between the seats. You can hear gunshots pinging off the metal of the truck and you’re trying to make yourself as small as possible, hoping the engine block in front will cover you. 

Frankie turns back and takes aim, firing at the pick-up but the truck suddenly lurches, veering to the left, and something wet and dark splatters onto the floor in front of you. You stare at it, trying to figure out what you're looking at when Pope yells from above.

“Grab the wheel, grab the wheel, we lost the driver!”  

You look over the seat and flinch backwards, the driver's right temple is missing and you squeeze your eyes shut, pushing down the bile that’s rising in your throat. 

“Why are we slowing down?!” Frankie yells from behind, turning to see Pope struggling to pull the dead driver away from the wheel and get control of the truck. It’s slowing down, bumping over the verge of the road. 

“Cariño, grab the wheel, you’ve got to drive!” he yells, snapping you out of your frozen state and looking up again. Pope’s hauled the man to the side and as Frankie frantically fires on the rapidly approaching pick-up from behind you scramble over the driver’s seat and grab hold of the wheel and haul it back on to the road, accelerating again. In front you see that one of Pope’s bullets found its mark and the dead gunner is being hauled over the side of the pick-up but another man is taking his place, grabbing the gun and aiming straight at you. 

“Pope!” you yell as the mini gun rattle into life, little bursts of asphalt flying from in front of the truck as the bullets hit. 

“I got it!” 

“Pope, you better fucking take out that gun!” Frankie yells from the back. 

“I got it!” Pope’s aiming at the tires of the pick-up, it swerves to avoid them and it makes the bullets from the mini gun go wide. You hear them ping off the metal, the windscreen is shattered and something thuds into the seat next to you with a heavy impact. 

“Frankie, I’ve got it!” You hear Pope yell and you glance back. Frankie’s turned around and is aiming at the pick-up in front. 

“You’re fucking missing everything!” he yells back, firing a first round at the tires. One of his bullets takes out a back tire and the pick-up starts wobbling. The gunner has to hang on to the gun to not be thrown off, and a burst of bullets spray across the engine block, shattering the headlights in a shower of glass. 

A second volley of bullets from Frankie hits another tire and the driver loses control, careening off the road and flipping over in a cloud of dust. 

“Just drive, cariño!” Frankie yells at you, “Just keep it steady and follow the QZ signs!” He turns around and from the miraculously still whole rear view mirror, you see him and Pope crouch down and take aim at the pursuing pick-up. Up ahead you see the looming wall of Arlington QZ, maybe just a mile down the road. 

“Almost at the QZ!” you yell back over the din of the gunfire. You glance back in the rear view mirror again, the pick-up is wobbling and both men are concentrating their fire at the front tires. It takes only a few seconds longer for both tires to blow out and the pick-up crashes into the wall of a crumbling building, careening through the entrance. You look ahead at the road again and groan. A group of infected are running onto the street further down the city block and there’s no way to avoid them. 

“Hold on!” you yell back at Frankie and Pope, “Infected up ahead!”

Frankie glances back and sees you grip the steering wheel hard, your knuckles white, shoulders by your ears, as the truck barrels towards the infected. He grabs hold of the cross bar as Pope turns around to fire at the infected. He downs one before you hit the first one, and you wince at the sickening thud of the body on the truck, the infected is thrown away from the road as you continue. You suddenly hear Pope yelp from behind you and Frankie shouts, grabbing your shoulder. 

“Stop the truck, stop!” 

You hammer the brakes, knocking over another infected but now the rest of them are running towards the truck. 

“Back up, Pope fell off!” Frankie yells and you look in the rear view mirror as you slam the truck into reverse, thank god it’s automatic, and you see him flat on his back three hundred feet behind the truck. He’s moving, still holding on to his gun, but there are infected running for him and Frankie takes aim. 

“Get to him and I’ll pull him up, then you drive for the gate!” he shouts back at you, trying to pick off as many of the infected as possible. You’re struggling to keep the truck on track, reversing an army truck is a lot different from reversing your own tiny car. Frankie curses as his shots miss, hitting the shoulder of an infected who keeps running for Pope. He’s taken out two but two more are still coming. In front of the truck you see the rest of the horde barreling down towards you too. 

Pope’s managed to sit up, shaking his dazed head as you hit the brakes a few feet away. 

“Get up!” Frankie roars at him, taking aim and firing, the infected closest to Pope drops in its tracks. “Get the fuck up, Pope!” 

“Frankie, we’ve got more infected in front!” you shout to Frankie, turning to look at the scene in the back. 

“Fuck!” he hisses and jumps out of the truck, on to the road. With two long strides he’s on Pope, grabbing him under his armpits and pulling him to his feet. “I need you to fucking move, Pope!” he groans, taking the weight of his friend. You see the last infected running straight for Frankie’s back and you shout a warning but there’s nothing Frankie can do as he shoves Pope up towards the truck, trying to make him climb up. You grab your handgun, flicking the safety off and holding it with both hands. You have to aim just to the side of Frankie and you lean on the seat, steadying your hands. Frankie sees what you're doing and crouches down, grabbing hold of Pope’s legs to hoist him up into the truck. 

“Remember the kick!” he yells and at the last second you square your shoulders, locking your arms as you aim down the sight. The seconds seem to move slow like syrup as you exhale and gently squeeze the trigger, just like he told you.The kick back jolts your hands but you hold steady and like magic, the infected screeches and drops to the ground and stays there, mere feet from Frankie’s back.. 

Pope’s regained enough sense to crawl onto the truck bed and Frankie scrambles in behind him. “Drive, cariño, drive!” he yells and you turn back to the wheel, the rest of the horde is only twenty feet away as you slam the truck into drive. The truck rips through the infected closest and they fly to the sides, a sickening crunch as one ends up under the truck but you’re too filled with adrenaline to notice. With a death grip on the wheel you aim for the big gate of the QZ that’s slowly opening, you can see lines of soldiers on the wall, guns trained on the infected now behind you. 

As the truck gets in range they open fire, the infected screeching as the bullets find them, and you barrel through the open gate, hitting the brakes as you’re faced with a large concrete enclosure and no way through on the other side, the truck shuddering to an abrupt stop. You turn in your seat in time to see the last of the infected fall as the gate slams shut behind you. 

You made it. 

You slump down over the steering wheel, breathing hard, your hands shaking. From outside you hear yelled orders for you all to exit the vehicle and you pull your eyes up. Frankie and Pope climb down from the back and Frankie comes round and puts his hand on the driver’s side window. 

“You ok, cariño?” he asks and you nod. 

“Yeah, just need a few seconds to stop my legs from shaking,” you smile weakly and he grins back. 

“You did amazing, never knew you could shoot like that, babe.” 

“Lower your guns, soldiers!” you suddenly hear from outside the truck and you look up, the voice instantly familiar. “I know these guys!”

“Benny!” Pope roars and grins at the younger Miller brother who’s walking through a smaller gate with an equally wide grin. 

“So fucking good to see you guys!” He laughs as he grabs Pope and lifts him off his feet, making Pope groan as his ribs crack under the onslaught of Benny’s muscular arms. Frankie’s next and you hear the three men laugh and rile each other as you open the driver’s side door and step out carefully, your legs still feel like jelly. 

Benny looks at you with a smile as you climb down, “Should’ve know it was your girl driving like a fucking champ, Fish!” he laughs, slapping Frankie’s shoulder again before turning back to you. Benny’s eyes go wide and he steps towards you but before he reaches you, you feel the ground disappear under your feet and you fall. 

“We need a medic!” Benny yells as Frankie turns to see you slumped on the ground, blood staining the gravel under you red.

Chapter 20

Taglist: @pimosworld @i-own-loki @casa-boiardi @littlenosoul @stormseyer @mxtokko  @javicstories @nunya7394 @welcometothepedroverse @harriedandharassed @meveispunk

[controversial-blorbo-bracket]

Controversial Character Tournament Round 2: Kokichi Ouma from Danganronpa V3: Killing Harmony vs Peter Pan from Once Upon A Time

(remember that these characters are fictional and your fellow tumblr users are real. i will block you if you harass others in the notes, please consider sending your unhinged harassment to my inbox instead)

Propaganda under the cut, may contain spoilers:

Kokichi Ouma:

LOVE: - "hes a bitch and that makes a lot of people hate him and a lot of other people love him. no one can decide on his motives and i think thats kind of the point. i like him personally but hes a raging asshole <3" - "Not a single DR fan I've ever met is neutral about Kokichi, he's perfect for this poll. I think he's a clever character with consistent internal logic, and his interactions with the other characters are as compelling as they are hilarious. He looks like a dog squeaky toy, and he plots like Artemis Fowl. He's one of my favorite characters in the series and I love him dearly." - "NOBODY CARES ABOUT THIS BOY'S PSYCHOLOGY AT ALL. HE SACRIFICED HIMSELF AND HIS IMAGE AND MADE EVERYONE HATE HIM AND CONSIDER HIM A MONSTER ON THE SLIGHT CHANCE HE COULD USE HIS LIFE TO HELP EVERYONE ELSE ESCAPE AND SURVIVE AND NOBODY CARES. THEY SHOW HIS BREAKDOWN AND NOBODY BELIEVES HIM. I'M SO TIRED" - "not only is he a danganronpa character (inherently controversial) he is also the antagonist and constantly lying because That's His Whole Deal. people either love him or hate his guts. he's a little piece of shit. i would submit komaeda but i feel like views on him are more positive, generally. sorry i have bad taste in video games" - "he's a horrible little guy trying his best in not very good ways what more could you want" - "I don't know, people say he's badly written because they don't pay attention to his arc beyond the cartoonish facade he very obviously forces, and they don't like him because he caused someone's death which like..fair (he did feel super bad about it though so its fine.) Some people also don't enjoy his wonderful personality and think he's a mean piece of shit, which he is, but it's fine. They're just sensitive." - "I know people don't like him because he's like. a shittier version of Komaeda. But that's what's so GOOD about him. He's a shitty asshole of a person, playing pretend at being a villain because he's desperate!!! I think that's really fun. He's dooming himself and I want him to be okay after everything ends, but he dies so he can't even have that much :(" - "so i saw you got submissions for him. but not enough i need to submit him myself he is my favorite character from anything ever. he is the silly man he is so funny one time (actually, two times if you count one optional interaction) he asked a robot if he had a dick and it's absolutely iconic i love him"

HATE: - "(dangan spoilers ahead if that matters) look ok i didn’t originally feel too strongly about kokichi. i think his character is interestingly written (can’t say well-written bc danganronpa but yaknow) and he adds a lot of charm to v3. i understand why he’s popular- he’s one of the few characters in v3 to have both a personality and plot relevance. but oh my GODDDDD he is not a good person!!!! and i am so SICK of seeing him woobified into ‘ooh little baby he did his best he wasn’t doing anything wrong’ JUST BECAUSE you find out he was trying to end the killing game after he dies doesn’t mean he wasn’t incredibly fucked up throughout the game!!! like he was incredibly manipulative, a bully, encouraged infighting, Literally Orchestrated A Murder And Protected Himself From Danger By Getting The Big Stupid Sweetheart To Do It which caused TWO unnecessary deaths and- oh yeah- tricked everyone into believing he was the mastermind and the world had ended to make them so depressed that they just wouldn’t do anything anymore bc can’t kill someone if you’re rotting away in your room!!! AUGH like he’s a good character but it’s BECAUSE he sucks that he’s interesting. maybe this is just the komaeda fan in me but sometimes!!! the character is cooler when you understand that they’re a bad person. at least komaeda gets an actual redemption arc. kokichi’s just an asshole that the game tries to make you sympathetic for at the very end but he spends the entire game being an asshole so why the hell would i like him??? and then i go in a fandom tag and it’s constant unending ‘kokichi did nothing wrong’ the whole point of his character is that he does EVERYTHING wrong. i truly feel like the dr team was trying to replicate komaeda’s popularity but it was messy and poorly handled bc he’s not even a bad person in an interesting way like komaeda he’s just got trust issues that lead him to be stupid and An Asshole. then again people eat it up so what do i know lmao. i love to hate that little shit i wanna punt him into the goddamn stratosphere. score a field goal with that asshat. this is all lighthearted btw i love to die on small hills" - "WHY DO PEOPLE LIKE HIM OH MY GOOOOOOD HES SUCH A FLAT CHARACTER HES A SODA I LEFT OUT FOR 3 DAYS kokichi oma is easily the WORST written danganronpa character. it has been a while since i was into danganronpa so the details are a bit fuzzy but my rage has NOT subsided. following the success of Easily One Of The At Least Top Three Best Written Danganronpa Characters known as nagito komaeda, kokichi had some shoes to fill. he instead showed up in clown shoes. kokichis whole premise is that you dont know if hes lying or not, him being a huge clown and causing shit for like a good third of the cast. kokichi was a simple character. hes a bitch, he sturs shit up, he eat hot chip and lie, it was FINE. not GREAT, but FINE. and then he died. suddenly— kokichi was from modest beginnings. he was actually a genius who was actually doing all of this to save everyone. he was a martyr. they TRIED to follow up on the success of nagito komaeda, and failed miserably. the guy literally has nazi imagery he didnt need to be complex he just needed to be an asshole and force the plot. for assholes that force the plot with actual good depth, may i interest you in byakuya togami? for guys who lie all the time with actual good depth, may i interest you in sou hiyori the beanie man himself from your turn to die [similar genre]? seriously. you guys could do SO much better. just... get better taste oh my GOD JUST BECAUSE HES A TWINK DOESNT MEAN HES WELL WRITTEN" - "Omg I hate this guy,,, people either baby him & make him a uwu soft boy or a funky clown dude, & both those types of people forget all the things he has done??? even if he "redeemed" himself in the end (which i don't think he did--) that still doesn't negate all of the things he did before??? actions speak louder than words but he could never rely on that bc all the does is lie anyway-- i have some strong opinions about him."

Peter Pan:

LOVE: - "My propaganda is that like. Half of the OUaT fandom is OBSESSED with this guy and the other half write fanfiction about their self-inserts beating the shit out of him. The tumblr sphere might be a bit too biased in favor of love and I doubt he'll make it far but from what I've seen people either adore this guy or want him dead in the streets"

[ordinary-barbie]

seeing the barbie movie with jean hcs!

first time writing AOT hcs...kinda nervous...but in love with the Barbie movie and jeanbo so I thought why not give this idea a whirl

contains: gn!reader, jean being a dork (non-derogatory), slight Barbie movie spoilers, lots of fluff

summary: watching the barbie movie with your softie bf! :’)

• obviously, y’all are wearing cute pink outfits! jean was raised by a mom who shunned the idea that pink is a “feminine” color so he has plenty of shirts to choose from :) if you don’t own anything pink, he’ll gladly let you borrow something of his!

• you decide to paint your nails barbie pink because why not, and he shyly asks if he can get his painted too! 

• he insists on taking photos in the promotional Barbie doll box in the theater and immediately puts you up on his IG story with a sappy caption like “I’m her Ken <3″ that you roll your eyes at but secretly makes you lowkey warm n fuzzy inside 

• is absolutely bopping to all the songs in the film and mouths the words to “Closer to Fine” every time, he knows the lyrics by heart because of his mama :’)

• isn’t afraid to admit he straight up bawled multiple times, especially at the scene with Barbie and the old woman on the bench. 

• wants to clap at Gloria’s monologue but he knows it’ll embarrass you so he refrains...but best believe he’ll give a standing o once y’all can watch the movie at home on streaming

• constantly holding your hand and squeezing it during the more emotional moments

• has a huge sweet tooth so he makes sure y’all are properly stocked up on snacks, but too anxious to get himself a drink bc he doesn’t want to miss any of the movie :/

• laughs a big, boisterous laugh at all the jokes and always glances at you to see if you’re laughing too...or just to look at u because he thinks you’re pretty hehe

• plans barbie and ken halloween costumes for the two of y’all before the movie even hits the halfway point 

• can’t stop gushing about the film and its message to you afterwards and wants to name his firstborn greta gerwig

• googles “i am kenough hoodie” after the movie because he just HAS to have it

• loves the film, but the best part of the experience was getting to watch it with you and see how much you enjoyed it too <3

[fueledbysano]

𝟎𝟏𝟐 | Don't Let Me Go

summary: while in the middle of a deeply personal mission in her hometown, [ Y / N ] recalls the night of her runaway. Mikey unknowingly initiates a big deal in their relationship. Takemichi encourages Moein to meet the two.

content/warnings: this story contains major Tokyo Revengers manga spoilers, canon divergence setting, tenjiku arc setting, comfort, fluff, angst, detailed writing of violence, weapons, blood, death, and strong language.

wc: 3k

a/n: so i just discovered a manga called nine peaks and it has the same idea to the plot of this story!

series masterlist | previous | next

“What did I do?” [ Y / N ] spoke, establishing an annoyed tone.

“Oh, nothing. I just wanted to chat.” Izana answered.

“What could we possibly chat about?” She pointed out.

“She doesn’t remember, doesn’t she?” Izana turned to his right-man.

“I don’t think so.” Kakucho answered.

“[ Y / N ] [ L / N ]. 17, born in Yokohama, left at a fire station and tossed around four foster homes. Went by the names; [ Y / N ] Mikami, [ Y / N ] Kaji, [ Y / N ] Ando, and then back to [ Y / N ] [ L / N ].” Izana paced in circles, unraveling the girl's past right before her and his men.

[ Y / N ] was flabbergasted, to say at least. Having heard those words from a man that she's only heard of, and only met today. “Who told you that?” She flatly spoke.

“I can also go on with your real parents, but I only have your father’s file here.” Izana replied, holding up a brown envelope similar to the one in her car.

“Where did you get that?” She folded, failing to conceal the confusion in her voice.

“Here’s your dinner, [ Y / N ].” The same stale bread and bland soup was served in front of [ Y / N ], just like a thousand times before. Being thirteen years old in an orphanage was quite a rare case, considering that kids are typically adopted before hitting adolescence.

[ Y / N ] has, though. Not once, but three times; by different families. However, she still felt foreign in any home she stayed in, not as different from the orphanage, urging her to transfer with every return.

This was something that no teenager dreamt of. Today, she decided to break the cycle and live on her own, if no one would take her in.

[ Y / N ] had no choice but to take the food for one last time, knowing that it will be a long night ahead of her.

She shortly followed her roommates when she finished eating, blending in to the wave of kids as they prepared for bedtime.

“Why aren't you in your pajamas yet?" The girl on top of her bunk bed asks.

“These are my sleeping clothes.” She simply answered, slowly lifting the blankets and tuckig herself in.

Underneath it was also a duffel bag, containing her clothes, a crowbar and wire cutter which she’d earlier stole from the storage unit. After all, those are the basics of hijacking a car according to her mechanics book.

The rest of rhe kids are starting to return to the room, which indicates bedtime. [ Y / N ] immediately knew that she was now in the hardest phase of her escape plan.

In the future where she may decide to learn about her real family, she would need her personal file that’s being kept in the office. She’d tried asking for it before, but was always denied or ignored. So she took the matter in her own hands.

“Good night, kids.” The headmistress spoke before shutting the lights off.

Reaching to her pockets, [ Y / N ] proudly smiled at herself when she quietly took the keys of the admin office.

She'd snatched it from the lady just minutes ago, as she was having dinner. [ Y / N ] had never pickpocketed her whole life, and she was surprised that she pulled it off just fine.

A couple of minutes had already passed. [ Y / N ] was growing impatient but some kids may still be awake. She tossed and turned under the sheets, recalling the plan in her head over and over as time passed.

Gray cabinet. Low drawer.

“Hello?” When [ Y / N ] was sure that the her roommates were asleep, she quietly snuck to the door and into the hallway.

Normally, an eerie-looking dark hallway would scare her. But she was too focused to the office ahead and she was determined that she can pull this off.

Upon unlocking the office, she headed straight to the file cabinet which contained her file, based on her observations. “Yes!” Upon seeing her name, she retrieved it from the drawer, not bothering to close it back or lock the door on the way out.

Some kids were already asleep when [ Y / N ] took her duffel bag in one go. She jumped through the window, and over the fence, heading to the driveway where the social worker’s sedan was parked.

She jammed the crowbar onto the window and jimmied the lock, moving it in left-to-right motions, just like her book stated.

Under the steering wheel were the bundle of wires she pulled on, not seeing the wire she was supposed to pull, due to the dim lights.

“I’m so screwed.” She chanted, almost out of breath as she attempted to look for the wires that connected to the engine. Reaching for her bag, she scanned through the pages and looked for the information, using it as some sort of manual.

“There you go.” She snipped the orange wire, ready to hotwire it, just like in the shows. However, she started to realize that this will be her first time driving. Luckily, it’s an automatic vehicle. She’s read about it and watched shows, but never really put it to practice.

“Is that [ Y / N ]?” Her nerves chilled when she heard her name from a distance, realizing that the lights to her dorm room were open, and one kid was looking through the window.

“Oh no.” She slammed the wires faster as the engine sputtered, giving one last spark before it finally started.

“No turning back.” She reminded herself before putting a seatbelt on and then shifting to drive.

She didn’t anticipate the sudden movement when she stepped on the gas and went, bumping into another car on the way. The SUV alarmed the street, which brought [ Y / N ] to a sense of urgency.

Luckily, the orphanage was in a suburban area which didn’t have lots of turns, giving her the chance to just simply… drive. Upon reaching a fairly far distance, the rush had already started to die down, and [ Y / N ] felt like she’d just escaped a prison. She chuckled to herself, taking in that she actually pulled it off.

The chuckling turned into a whole laugh, until she was fully cackling and driving at high speed.

It’s only a matter of time before someone realizes that a kid is driving, so she has to find a stopover soon.

However, at this time, most places were already closed and dark. [ Y / N ] could already see the city lights and the highway with bustling cars. She didn’t have the courage to drive on it yet, but she had nowhere to go at this point.

Pulling over at a convenience store, [ Y / N ] took her bag and untangled the ignition wires which brought the car to a stop.

Reaching for her pockets, She realized that her money wasn't enough to buy even a bottle of water. Leaning against the hood and out of breath, [ Y / N ] took a big sigh and calmed her nerves. Running away was her grand plan and she pulled it off. She was actually on her own now.

[ Y / N ] didn’t hear the store bell chiming and the quick footsteps receding until a guard showed up and yelled, “Damn brats! Give it back here!”

She looked up to see two kids in the distance, running off with their clothes stuffed.

“Hey, you with those two?” She flinched when the guard walked up to her.

“No sir, I just got here.” She stood up straight.

“What kind of scam are you pulling, huh? Where are your parents? I’ll get you picked up right no—” Although she wasn’t guilty of stealing from the store, the thought of being sent back to the orphanage frightened [ Y / N ]. So with a big swing, she hit her bag at the guard and followed the direction where the two kids were running off to.

“Hey, wait up!” She tried to call, but they only ran faster. She noticed that one kid had white hair, while the other had black before they disappeared after turning right.

When she followed, [ Y / N ] was met by an abandoned nursing home. The front was blocked with metal scraps and caution signs, which she ignored and decided to jump and climb through.

In the distance was a stairway leading underground, where footsteps were heard and she followed.

Upon reaching the floor, [ Y / N ] yelped when she saw the two boys standing in the middle of the room with stolen chips, drinks, and noodle cups from the store.

“Okay, I think we lost them both.” The black haired kid spoke.

“You think?” The tan-skinned kid says upon seeing [ Y / N ] on the stairs, who was in silence.

“So, what’s your story?’ He asked.

“Where are your parents?” The other one spoke.

“Don’t have ‘em.” [ Y / N ] simply answered, holding onto the railings as she headed soon and observed the place.

“I think you should stay here, be a part of our gang.” She grew confused once the older kid spoke.

“She— what? This has not been discussed.” the other one said.

“It is now. We could use a girl to look innocent and as a distraction.” He explained, while [ Y / N ] listened to their conversation. Soon enough, she realized what he may be talking about.

“I… want to be an F1 driver. Not a thief.” She spoke out.

“You don’t have many options. It’s just us.” The white-haired kid pointed out.

“I’m Kakucho, this is Izana.” The other one introduced themselves.

He was right. She was a fugitive now. Maybe staying with other stray kids is her safest option for now. However, nothing beyond the escape was in her anticipation. She was anxious about living out in a sketchy place with basically nothing.

To say that she was speechless is an understatement. All the feelings from her body seemed to have drained up along with the rush, leaving her staring into the ground; no home, no friends, her life is basically to be rebuilt.

“Is she crying?” Kakucho asks as they observe the girl.

“She’s got no parents. We both remember what that’s like.” Izana says.

“Where can I leave my coat?” [ Y / N ] finally spoke, still not breaking her gaze.

“You can keep your clothes over there.” Izana gestured to an empty cabinet.

“I have to take my other stuff from the car.” [ Y / N ] spoke, remembering about her file.

“Be careful,okay? Dinner will be ready when you’re back!” Kakucho says, taking the food in his arms.

“Took you so long?” Izana asks, pouring a bag of potato chips over the hot noodles.

“He thought you chickened out and bailed.” He laughed, gesturing at Kakucho.

“No, I got us more food.” [ Y / N ] chuckled, ,showing them a take-out bag.

“Stir fry?! Amazing!” Kakucho exclaimed upon recognizing the logo on the bag.

“How did you get this?” Izana asks as she sets the food down. [ Y / N ] remained silent, placing her file on the makeshift table.

“I have my ways.” She put it simply— pickpocketed a middle-class man and bought take out with the money. Izana knew right away what she meant. Maybe, the two of them were meant to meet her and have her join their little team. And she seemed tough, too. With a smile, he slung an arm over her shoulder, “Welcome to our kingdom!” He chuckled before proceeding to feast on their dinner.

After a while, it was the middle of the night when [ Y / N ] decided to shower in the only bathroom that still worked. “I apologize if the water in there was slow.” Izana spoke upon seeing her return to the makeshift common room.

“No worries. I’ve been to worse ones.” [ Y / N ] admitted, watching him pick up a run-down guitar while Kakucho started to make himself comfortable on the futon.

“I play this acoustic guitar before we sleep because it helps Kaku, I hope you don’t mind. And, I’m still learning.” Izana explained.

“Of course. This is your home, after all.” She nodded, letting the boy strum off-key chords and strings.

“Our home now.” Izana corrected, flashing her a kind smile.

Three A.M. and both boys were fast asleep, while [ Y / N ] still laid awake. Izana and Kakucho seemed to be nice kids who were put into this circumstance with only having each other as family. However, Living in an abandoned nursing home with two other orphans wasn’t something she anticipated at all.

While they were kind, and seemed to be safe in the place, [ Y / N ] is still in Yokohama— the exact city she was running away from.

While staying with Izana and Kakucho may seem the safest option, she wasn’t sure of how things would turn out in the long run. Although risky, living on her own is in her best interests.

And that night, [ Y / N ] quietly walked past the sleeping Izana and Kakucho, navigating herself through the candle-lit room as she gathered her stuff to leave.

Reaching to her pockets, she left the spare change on their makeshift dinner table, making sure to take the envelope that contained her file.

But what she didn’t notice is one important document slipping out of it, left out in the dark as [ Y / N ] quietly left, careful not to wake the sleeping boys.

“You seem… different.” Was the only words she could say upon looking back at the memory. The day she ran away was simply to put it, full of emotions. Some experiences that didn’t turn out the way we expected tend to be concealed with different memories— something vague and not so memorable.

Hence, not remembering their meeting until Izana and Kakucho mentioned it.

“Right. The fuck happened to me?” Izana chuckled. [ Y / N ] silently agreed. The young Izana she met at the abandoned nursing home seemed to be far from who he turned out to be.

“I guess you’re really pushing to your F1 racer dream, huh?” He mentioned.

“Look, I’m sorry I left. I just can't stand staying here any longer.” She explained.

“I know. I think it’s the perfect time to return this to you.” Izana spoke, holding out a brown envelope. “You left it behind.”

“What do you want?” She spat.

“Like I said, I just wanted to return what’s yours. Don’t you want to meet your father?” He asks, displaying the document in front of her.

So that’s where it ended up, [ Y / N ] had always assumed that it had been left somewhere, thrown away, or simply stolen. She also figured that as long as she still had her mother’s information, it wouldn’t be difficult to know her father.

Yet, she knows nothing about the circumstances she was born into. Simply obtaining her father’s file would save her from all the confrontations that may arise.

But knowing the men who ran gangs and being friends with some, she knew that this information wouldn’t just be given back to her for free.. They surely want something from her in return. Not to mention the fact that Tenjiku and Toman are not on good terms at the moment.

“Is that all? Can I go now?” She answered, making up a decision to refuse the offer.

With a sigh, Izana nodded and stuffed his hands in his pockets, “What a pity,” He says, stepping in front of [ Y / N ], practically towering her figure. “Everything could’ve turned out so differently if you stayed.” He pointed out.

“See her outside boys.” Izana demanded, which Rindou and Ran immediately obeyed. The Haitanis escorted [ Y / N ] out of the hideout and back into her car, remaining silent as they could feel the tension practically surrounding [ Y / N ]’s aura.

It was until [ Y / N ] reached for the car door when Ran spoke up, “He takes ‘no’ for an answer. Just take it.” He says while Rindou handed her the envelope she just declined.

The midday skies take on a pink-amethyst hue. The darkness brought a crown of moonlight, smiling upward at the morning heavens and dimming up the busy city. Mikey opened the garage door upon hearing the blaring engine of [ Y / N ]’s car. He trotted to the driver’s side, his locks weaving before opening it to reveal a flustered [ Y / N ].

“Hey…” He asks, eyes searching hers to try and get her to talk. “Come here.” He immediately ushered her out of the car and back to the working shed, carrying the parts she bought from her run.

“What took you so long?” Mikey asks, as if he hadn’t already figured out her whereabouts.

“I feel really stupid, but uh… I couldn’t find the parts I’m looking for.” She explained and headed to Mikey’s motor parts, sparing a soft smile to him. She knew her lie would eventually backfire, knowing well that Mikey is not a stupid person.

Of course, she plans to tell everything one day when things are settled. But, now’s just not exactly divine timing.

“You gotta go all the way to Yokohama? Really?” He finally muttered. Mikey mentally scolded himself from the sudden word spill, unsure of how [ Y / N ] will react to his speculations. Now [ Y / N ] was truly confused. She froze on the spot and her mind was cornered. There was no point in denying.

“Hey, were you following me?” She turns to him with a scoff.

“I don’t need to. Why are you always sneaking off there? Huh?” Mikey questioned, crossing his arms and giving her a confrontational look.

“No, can we circle back to the fact that you are stalking me?!” She asks once more, realizing that the trips to her hometown were not as low-key as she thought.

With a sigh, Mikey put away the wrench and stepped closer to the girl. “[ Y / N ], You’re in the enemy’s territory.” He pointed out, as if she hadn’t already known. [ Y / N ], of course, kept it in mind during her last visits. She just didn’t think that she was relevant enough to be targeted by the Tenjiku executives. Hell, she wasn’t even a member of Toman in the first place.

Yet, she was taken into their hideout into a serious talk, but mentioned nothing about the ongoing fight at all. Something about the whole interaction was just… off.

Maybe, they do see her as an important figure to Toman now, especially to their president.

“And you’re my girlfriend, I’m allowed to worry about you!” She looked up and over just in time to see Mikey’s expression. His words rang through her like a bell, a particular word reverberating through her mind.

There was no denying that the feelings were present. Although nothing was formally agreed upon, it just registered to Mikey that he just called her his girlfriend for the very first time.

“I am?” She asks abruptly, her eyes as wide as the boy who just confessed.

“Uh…” The fluster in Mikey’s voice was enough to make [ Y / N ] realize how awkward the situation has shifted to.

“Well…” [ Y / N ]’s body immediately tensed as his response finally reached her. Maybe he wasn’t sure either? Was it something he said out of a “spur of the moment”?

Before either of them could speak, their heads turned to the garage door where insistent knocking could be heard from the other side.

“Hey, it’s evening. Don’t knock so barbarically.” [ Y / N ] scolded as they both made their way towards the heavy doors, lifting it at the same time.

“I’m sorry, is this a bad time?” Takemichi asks as the two appear.

“Yeah.” [ Y / N ] and Mikey answered in unison.

“Mikey-kun, Mucho is Toman’s traitor! He took Koko with Tenjiku.” Takemichi immediately blurted. Mikey listened to the urgency in his voice, and noticed his and Inui’s bruised faces, indicating that they were attacked and brought into this moment.

In a distance, just behind Inui, Mikey sees an unfamiliar girl who stood by Inui’s motorcycle.

“Get everyone. We’ll have a meeting.” He demanded.

“Yes.” The two nodded.

“Mikey-kun, can we talk?” Inupi chimed.

“Wait at the shrine. I’ll get my uniform real quick.” Mikey replied and searched for his motorcycle keys while Inui headed off to his own ride.

“Hey, uh, I just washed the one you left here last time… it’s in my dresser.” [ Y / N ] pointed at the door to her room. “Oh, thanks.” He scurried past her and into the room to get changed.

[ Y / N ] remained in place as the door shut, recalling the exact flow of their conversation.

Girlfriend. Dating exclusively? A relationship? Had she been a girlfriend to him all this time?

While deep into thought, Takemichi gestured Morin to come closer while he approached a static [ Y / N ]. “Uh, [ Y / N ]-chan, I have—”

“Mikey just called me his ‘girlfriend’!” She suddenly blurted, yet keeping a toned down voice, keeping in mind that the boy was just in the next room. “I mean, we’ve never really talked about it! It feels like we are, but, like I said, we never really made anything official so I don’t think much— but— Do we seem like boyfriend-girlfriend to you guys?” She rambled, toying with the zipper of her racer jacket.

In the distance, Morin now observed in confusion. [ Y / N ] seemed to be tense, looking as if she was scolding the blonde. “Man, what are you doing?” She whispered to herself.

Takemichi was puzzled, to say the least, thinking that [ Y / N ] and Mikey had been long boyfriend-girlfriend to each other. “Well…” The words were just at the tip of his tongue before [ Y / N ] rambled again.

“How did you handle it with Hina? Did you ask her with flowers and all that cheesy shit? Did you talk or something? Or it just happened?” She asked. He scratched his head, “Not really flowers, but—”

“Oh, I’m sorry, what were you saying earlier? You have what?” [ Y / N ] suddenly remembered and felt rude, shaking her head.

“Let’s wait for Mikey-kun.” Takemichi sighed. “Right.” She nodded in response. “Holy shit Mucho took Koko with them?!” [ Y / N ] exclaimed.

“Pretty much. He set me up too. If it wasn’t for Koko… Me and Inupi will be in bad shape right now.” He explained. “Holy shit.” [ Y / N ] shook her head.

Shortly, their heads both turn to the door once Mikey is finished, “Okay, let’s go.” He gestured. Takemichi followed shortly while [ Y / N ] stayed close to the Toman president.

“Come here.” Morin was too dazed to hear Takemichi’s cue; looking at [ Y / N ] smoothen the wrinkles on Mikey’s shirt while he looked down at her with pure adoration, as if they weren’t just throwing words at each other earlier. A single glance at them would leave no questions if they were in fact— smitten for each other.

She felt a sudden sense of nostalgia; remembering how [ Y / N ] would tell her stories about how much she loved Mikey. It’s unbelievable how she could see it with her own eyes, even without them speaking a single word.

“Uh, guys?” Takemichi spoke, all their heads turning to him.

“Yeah?” Mikey and [ Y / N ] ask in unison.

“Meet Morin.” He gestured towards the dirty-blonde-haired girl.

“...Hi.” She paused for a moment, before remembering to politely bow.

“She’s uh… my cousin.” Takemichi instilled, insisting to carry on with the “cousin” lie.

“What’s up…” [ Y / N ] nodded politely.

Upon seeing the unknown girl up close, Mikey was jumbled, to say the least, as if his brain was being fogged from a picture. “Did you have Dojo classes with my grandpa?” He questioned.

“No, I don’t think so.” Morin shook her head, finding the response rather odd.

“Huh. You looked like one of the kids there.” He casually spoke, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he headed to his motorcycle. He thought that she looks almost like Emma, but also doesn't. He could not pin it, but he could also see a bit of someone else in her features.

“Huh…” Morin simply nodded.

“I’ll see you later.” Mikey turned to [ Y / N ]. She returned a small wave and a smile, watching the two boys get on the motorcycle and coming out of sight.

[ Y / N ] stayed silent for a moment until the notable engine sounds were gone too. “So…” She slowly turned her head to Morin.

It’s rather odd, considering she’s never told anyone when she was just thinking of it the other day. She’s never met a person who had the name in mind, yet, one actually came up today.

“What did he say your name was again?” [ Y / N ] questioned, ensuring if she heard it right and clear.

tag list [ open ]: @haimyvu @rizakari @httpsplanetmarsdotcom @mitsurisupremacy @moontofu @psmslove @slutaholic69 @im-like-yeah-hes-fine @keomi-kimo @springtimewolf1995 @bebesanzu @imshittingforyelena @dailyakira @idunnomynamesince2005 @juanaisdead @emilymikado @haruu-i @keisaint @misinfe @fxshigurosbae @xxserenitysnow666xx @emyrl @xngelsau @melody005 @daichisbabymama @4leafcloverwithawhitecraneforyou @r-xochitl @sleezy-axeriix @pandabooster @amerillyss @tellynojelly @kenkenmaaa @astrodiamond @ikilledsparky2 @soushswag @eriskaitto @secretanimesimp

dm me if you changed urls or i misspelled

[kamidukki]

AKNK 1st Anniversary SSR Cards SNEAK PEEK Translation – 3rd Floor Butlers

Warning: SPOILERS. Exactly what it says in the title. This post contains part of SSR cards available for free reading, be it TRANSLATION of the dialogues or PICTURES of the butlers when they were children/in the past.

Just in case, please remember that the free reading trial in AKNK isn’t always continuous. They can jump from one scene to another, sometimes seamlessly, with the background as the only indicator of change.

Nac's full translation can be read here. In exchange, I put Ammon in this post.

*FB = flashback

M = Master/us players

AMMON

Muu: Owe…?

Ammon: But well… I owe Boschi-san a lot of things.

M: The person who saved you?

Ammon: That’s right. Boschi-san is the person who saved me.

Ammon: Ah, right… I haven’t told you about this, Master.

That time when Boschi-san and I first met…

M: I’m curious what kind of meeting it was.

-??? years ago-

FB

Boschi: Good grief, sleeping in a place like this… I was looking for you.

Boschi: Talk later. You’re hungry, right.

Ammon: Eh…? W-who…

Here, a sandwich. Eat.

Ammon: Sand…wich…?

I don’t want it…

I’m not… hungry or anything…

/sounds of gurgling stomach

Boschi: Ha… Just like Berrien-san said.

Not the honest type, aren’t you.

Geez…

Here, open your mouth.

Ammon: Ch… S-stop it…!

It's got poison or something in it anyway, right?

I said I didn’t want it!

Who wants to eat a meal prepared by you lots…!

-end of free trial-

Lucas: I don’t want to frighten you too much but, I used to hunt angels a lot in the past.

LUCAS

Right now, I’m using a scythe as a weapon, however…

Even with it, I’m still learning a bit of martial arts and swordsmanship.

If you like, Master, I can even teach you the art of self-defense, you know?

Muu: Eh…! That’s unexpected somehow…

Lucas-san… even though you’re a doctor, you’re able to do martial arts?

M: Since when did you learn it?

Let’s see…

Lucas: Fu fu…

The first time I got to learn is when… I was 10.

M: Since that early…

Lucas: I may have talked about this to you before.

The younger me is a child who was always thirsting for knowledge. (*)

FB

/sounds trashing

Older kids: Hah… Hh… the hell, what a stubborn jerk you are!

Child Lucas: Kh…!

You’re younger than us so listen to what we say!

If you dare to disobey us again… you’ll get more than this.

/sounds of footsteps walking away

Child Lucas: Ha… Hh…

It’s no good…

What am I supposed to do… even though I already know how in my head…

It’s useless if my body doesn’t move.

Knowledge alone is not enough when it comes to fighting…

LAMLI

-end of free trial-

M: Is that so?

Lamli: The truth is… I was working in a circus a long time ago.

Lamli: Y-yes… This this the first time I told you though, Master.

Well, it’s not a big deal of a story~

M: I’d like to hear more.

Hmm~ If that’s so, then…

Lamli: Eh? Y-you do?

Understood. I’ll tell you.

At that time, I was just turned 10…

I lived with my mother when I was young. My father… he wasn’t there for as long as I can remember.

Whenever I asked about him to my mother, she always turned sour.

“That guy, he’s a scum who abandoned us,” she would say.

My mother worked at a night-shift job, during midnight till morning.

Once she came home drunk… and I happened to hear her talk to herself like this.

“I didn’t even want a child…”

M: Lamli…/No way…

Child Lamli: W-wait a moment, mom.

FB

Joining a circus trope… I don’t have any artistic talent…

It doesn't matter, errand boy or whatever, just ask them to hire you.

Lamli’s mother: That’s fine. If you’re at least get hired, it’s enough.

Do you understand?

Until you get hired, don’t dare come back home!

Child Lamli: No way… Why so sudden, such thing…

Lamli’s mother: What? Are you talking back to me, your parent?

Do you even understand how much hard work I’m doing just to feed you?

It was a lot of work just to raise you up to this point, you know.

Get a grip and work for yourself.

If you don’t like that, get out of here.

Child Lamli: W-wait! Anything but that…

… I get it…

I’ll ask to get hired in the circus troupe… any job.

-end of free trial-

[NOTE]

* = Lucas talks about his past in his initial story.

[springypaws]

Warning: the following content contains nonsensical rambling form a potentially delusional and very excited individual who talks a lot. Oh, and The Magnus Protocol spoilers until the meginning of episode 7 (because I was too giddy to continue it tonight).

Okay so I know that starting the Magnus Protocol, my main focus should be the new characters and such, but I genuinely can’t get the fact that Jonny and Alex are playing the voices of two “text to speech programs” that just HAPPENED to appear in this world, on this computer, for seemingly no reason, a year before this story takes place, which may align with TMA 200 and the fact that I can’t stop thinking these are 1000% Jon and Martin (even if they’ve been dubbed otherwise by Alice) and it’s impossible to get them off of my mind

ESPECIALLY IN EPISODE 7. WITH THIS NEW CHARACTER CELIA WHO I’M SO EXTREMELY SUSPICIOUS OF, WHO WAS ASKING WHAT THESE VOICES TALKED ABOUT STATEMENT WISE OR HOW THEY WERE THERE AND MENTIONED HOW THE VOICES BROUGHT BACK MEMORIES/REMINDED HER OF SOMEONE WHDHEJJDJDGGGRGGGHHH I’m genuinely going feral

And all of this focus on the potential (and what I’ve convinced myself to be very, very likely) canon presence of Jon and Martin in The Magnus Protocol doesn’t mean the actual story isn’t captivating so far. In fact, I’m extremely interested, and Colin is, at the moment, my favorite character (as I’m not counting Jon), even though he gives major “oh yeah I’m gonna die first” energy. I adore this grumpy AF man who drinks to cope when he can’t figure out why computers are fucking with him because there’s 100% no better coping mechanism.

So far, Alice may need a bit more warming-up to for me to like her as much as some of the others, but her character is already so intricate and interesting, even if I can understand where Gwen is coming from in her dislike for Alice (not that I necessarily dislike Alice, I just… well, as I said, need some warming-up to with her).

And, speaking of Gwen, she absolutely FASCINATES me. Like at first I thought she was the typical “oh I just don’t want to be here” type of individual, but having this attitude because of the fact that she’s impatient in her desire to grow in rank in the organization? I may have seen some similar character concepts, but for some reason hers really has me feeling like I haven’t seen it before. Not to mention the fact that she doesn’t appear completely hostile towards her coworkers, which is a nice diversion from the typical “oh ho I want your job” types.

I also think I like Lena quite a lot, actually; she might also be up there on my favorites so far. Obviously, I’m pretty sure she’s gonna be some sort of antagonistic figure in one way or another, but I genuinely feel like she doesn’t mean to be such to cause harm, or to follow some selfish goal (cough cough unlike a certain someone from tma 1 cough cough).

I’m a bit disappointed at Teddy leaving so early too, although I’m fairly confident he’s gonna show up again in some way or another— hopefully alive and well. It’s unlikely, but we can hope, because he’s just a silly little guy who doesn’t deserve to be punished for being what I imagine to be a big grizzly softy. I’m fascinated by his and Colin’s history and what they’ve experience together/know, but that’ll probably be discovered/explained soon enough.

OH AND SAM. I haven’t decided what I think of Sam yet, since I feel like we haven’t discovered much about him quite yet, but he seems silly and gives me major Cavetown vibes, for whatever reason. He would definitely own some kind of light olive green thing somewhere or something. He’s also a fool for falling for Celia because she’s absolutely not trustworthy and should not be crushed on but he’s just in love so it’s fine

[orangesunsets12]

This is a small snippet from my Stranger Things fanfic story It Takes Two to Survive, a snippet that I was going to include in previous chapters but never got around to it. I don't think that it'll fit into the story anymore, so I figured that I would share it here, if anyone is interested! A little bit of bonus content, if you will!

If anyone wants to read this but hasn't read my story, all that you need to really know is that Steve and Robin were taken by Brenner, given powers, and this scene occurs once they are back home, and everyone knows that they have powers. It does contain some spoilers for the story, though.

Enjoy!

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

“So, how often have you been shot?” Jonathan asked, watching Steve with a bit of worry. 

Steve loosely shrugged at the question as he held a mug of coffee in his hands. “Too often to count. When we escaped I was pummeled with bullets. Robin was shot once, too.”

Jonathan’s eyes widened. “But you managed to save her, right?”

“Yeah, thankfully. I don’t know what I would do without her.” 

Jonathan nodded. Both of the boys were sitting in the Byers’ dining room as the kids played D&D in the living room. Max and El were just watching, talking in hushed whispers, giggling as the boys played. Mrs. Byers’, knowing that everyone was still a bit on edge, had begun allowing the group to hang out a lot more. Nancy usually joined them, but today she was busy shopping with Robin. Steve didn’t really mind, he was glad to have a bit of time away from Nancy. 

Things were awkward between them. Nancy only asked him light, easy questions, he answered them, and she would go back to Jonathan. Steve didn’t really know how to react to that. Did she hate him? Did he change too much for them to still be friends? Were things just different now?

Steve tried not to focus on it too much. She would talk to him when she was ready, and he would, too. 

“Did it hurt?” Jonathan asked, cutting through the silence, and Steve nodded. “Getting shot?”

“At first. Then the pain just faded away. It’s like that with everything I endure. Fire. Water. Electricity. Emotions.”

The other boy eyed him with concern, yet Steve kept on talking. 

“But, it’s not like it’s a big deal, the pain goes away as soon as it comes. Bruises don’t stay for long, blood stops nearly instantly, and I’m totally fine to keep on going. I’ve only collapsed like, twice, and one of the times was because I forgot to eat for a while.” Steve gestured to the bowl of popcorn in front of him wildly, “Which, obviously, is a problem that I’ve fixed.”

“Steve, that’s not the point.” Jonathan urged, making his voice softer yet still more serious at the same time. “The point is that you keep on getting hurt, even if it’s temporary. And it doesn’t matter if you have powers or not, you have to stop.”

“Stop? Stop what?” Steve lowered his voice down to a hiss, pointing to the kids in the living room. “Stop doing what I can to protect them? Stop putting my life on the line to make sure that they live to see the next day? If I hadn’t done what I did, if I stopped doing what I can, people would’ve died. Robin would’ve died. The kids, even your brother, would’ve died. I won’t stop. I'll never stop, no matter what.”

[twinsky]

i think about hiiro every day of my life. cant believe they made him just for me.... this fic contains spoilers for chapter 5 (up until what is released in the official server)  ty :)

-

Title: and it feels like water to a drowning man 

Word Count: 7k+

Summary: What do you want? His brother asks, Aira asks. A question Hiiro had never understood, Hiiro did not want. Hiiro was told what he wanted and needed and the answer to that was that Hiiro wanted and needed what his brother told him. But Rinne did not want that for him, Aira told him that wasn’t right either.

So what did Hiiro want?

How did one even decide what to want to want? Was it okay to ask? Was he stupid for not knowing?

Hiiro had always known he was stupid, but it felt so much worse now.

What do you want?

What do you want?

Tell me Hiiro, what is it that you want?

---

In the aftermath of his brother disowning him, Hiiro tries his best to come to terms with what living for oneself really means. And how on earth he is supposed to do that, when the concept is as foreign to him as the sun to creatures who lived far beyond its sight

[ao3 link]

“Nii-san” Hiiro says, smiling up at his big brother as he walks through the doors. Rinne sighs as he looks over at him, shoulders drooping, and Hiiro grins wider. His brother is always tired after meetings with the elders, after lessons for his future as their Monarch.

Hiiro has no idea what happens at those meetings, but that’s okay, it’s not his place. He doesn’t need to know, he isn’t meant to know. All Hiiro needs to know is how to be everything his brother will ever need, because that is his role to play as his brother’s younger sibling.

And Hiiro is great at knowing what his brother needs, if he can say so himself.

“Hiiro.” His brother finally greets, smiling slightly. That his brother is always happy to see him is one of Hiiro’s greatest joys. It means that he’s doing a good job, that his brother needs him as he was born to be needed.

“Since your lessons lasted longer than usual, I made you something to eat!” The kitchen staff had ignored him as he puttered around beneath their feet but Hiiro was used to that. Hiiro had authority in name only, and the village showed that by leaving him to his own devices for the most part. “It’s just a sandwich and salad but I used all your favourite things!” He finishes proudly, holding the tray out for Rinne to take.

“Did you make something for yourself too?” His brother asks instead of taking the tray and Hiiro pauses, tilting his head.

“No?” The food was for Rinne, why would Hiiro make something for himself?

“Have you eaten yet?”

“I was making food for you!” And he’d been doing other tasks before that, it’s been a rather busy morning after all.

It wasn’t like Hiiro felt that hungry anyways, his brother’s well-being was much more important to him.

“I see.” Rinne replies, and though his grin remains in place he feels further away than he did moments ago.

Hiiro’s hands grip the tray tighter, Hiiro thought he understood his brother better than most people in their village but that did not make him faultless. But he was supposed to be, needed to be, how else could his brother know to rely on him for his each and every whim?

“I can go make myself something right now, if you want?” He offers but Rinne only sighs, shaking his head.

“No it’s fine, we can just share what you made.” Rinne replies instead, waving him over as he walks over to sit over the porch overlooking the garden.

“But I made this for you!” Hiiro protests, quickly following behind without thought.

“Mhmm,” Rinne hums, plopping himself down with ease. Hiiro copies him more sedately, careful with the tray still in his hands, “You sure did, and since it’s mine I get to decide what to do with it right?”

“I… I suppose.” Hiiro agrees. His brother was always right, but it still felt wrong to take what was his, even with his permission.

“Exactly, and I want you to share my food with me, so it’s fine.” Rinne continues, voice dripping with the confidence that always left Hiiro in awe. That assured him that Rinne would one day make the most amazing monarch they’ve ever had.

Hiiro nods despite his hesitance, but his brother's smile no longer feels quite so cold so he knows it’s the right choice. Finally, his brother takes the tray from him offering him half the sandwich as he does. Hiiro takes it, holding it in his hands, and simply stares at it.

While Hiiro appreciates his brother’s gesture, even though he does not understand the need for it, he still does not particularly want to eat this. He had catered the sandwich to his brother’s tastes, and there were one or two things in it that he could not eat without feeling a bit queasy.

Still, it was Rinne’s order that he eat this, so Hiiro has no place to question or deny him.

However, as he goes to take the first bite Rinne plucks it from his grasp, placing it back on the tray beside his own already bitten into half. Hiiro watches with curious eyes, neither upset nor bothered by this. It’s his brother’s right to do whatever he wanted, both with what was his, and Hiiro himself.

Without a word Rinne removes the top slice of Hiiro’s half, carefully removing all the parts Hiiro cannot eat before handing it back to him.

It is not until the sandwich is back in his hands that Hiiro finds his words again. “Nii-san! You didn’t have to do that I could’ve eaten it.”

“Or you could have removed it yourself.” Rinne replies, watching him carefully, but Hiiro simply shakes his head.

What right did Hiiro have to refuse what his brother requested of him? To change or modify his requests even slightly?

“Hiiro,” his brother sighs, “you can do things just for you sometimes, you know? Just because you want to.”

“I want to be useful to you!” Hiiro grins, being needed by his brother made Hiiro the happiest. To fulfill his duty to assist his brother for the rest of his life was all Hiiro would ever need. There was nothing else for him anyways, that was his future set-in stone already.

That he enjoys doing it just shows it was what he was born to do.

“I mean things that have nothing to do with me Hiiro, maybe even something I wouldn’t like.” Rinne clarifies, voice far too serious for something so ridiculous.

“I was born to be everything you could possibly need Nii-san, why would I ever do something like that?”

Rinne sighs, muttering something under his breath that Hiiro does not quite catch, though his brother's grin when he reaches over to ruffle his hair reassures him that it is not for any wrongdoing on Hiiro’s part.

Hiiro wouldn’t know what to do if his brother was ever disappointed in him, or no longer needed him by his side.

“You were born to be my cute and happy little brother, none of that extra stuff.” He replies, still ruffling Hiiro’s hair around.

“Nii-san I do not like to disagree with you but we both know that is not true.” Rinne’s eyes look almost indulgent as Hiiro speaks, like it’s some silly joke that Rinne is humouring. It is one of the many things about Rinne that leave Hiiro confused no matter how hard he tries to understand.

“Well, we’ll simply have to see about that.” Rinne says, voice far too confident for the ridiculousness of his statement.

Still, Hiiro nods, agreeing with his brother. Whatever his brother decides Hiiro will support, he cannot even begin to imagine a world where that would not be true.

Their days would continue like this forever, and Hiiro could imagine nothing better.

-

(But then.

Then.

What is Hiiro supposed to do when that is no longer the case?

When his brother disappears without a trace, taking Hiiro’s very reason for being with him?

Just what is Hiiro supposed to do then?

Who is Hiiro, then, without his brother there?

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t.

But he knows he needs his brother back, no matter what the village says.

It is the first time he goes against his village’s teachings

It will not be the last. )

-

Hiiro does not even have a fraction of the teachings and lessons his brother has. Hiiro is taught what is necessary, the basics, the fundamentals, and some things not at all (not that he would know). This is fine by him, his elders would not lead him astray, would not teach him lies.

Hiiro’s whole world is this village, and he loves and trusts it with all he is.

Knows everything they tell him to be true and correct.

Which is why he sits on the ground legs bent beneath him and back straight as he listens to today’s lesson. While his brother was taught how to be a good monarch, Hiiro learned everything he needed to be a good right hand, tool, weapon, shield, anything his brother might need in the future.

Learned everything about why he was here, and what he was meant to do.

And Hiiro listened to these lessons attentively until his legs burned beneath him and his back ached for relief. He’d learned early on that slacking off or feeling tired would not be excused. And why would it be? These lessons were setting him up for his future, there was no leeway for mistakes, for lack of care. Hiiro’s hometown raises him and shows him what and who he will be—that he will never be more or less than that.

Hiiro understood that which is why no matter how early or how late or if he felt sick or nauseous that day Hiiro came when called and listened with everything he had. Hiiro loves his brother, he could not disappoint him by being a poor student.

He drinks up these lessons like water, teachings from his parents, from his elders, from his teachers. Anyone who will offer Hiiro a word on how he should be, who he should be, Hiiro listens with rapt attention. Hiiro was brought into this world for a purpose he has to complete perfectly, wants to complete perfectly.

As he grows older, stronger, he only grows more and more assured in this. Every lesson and word and breath beat into his skull like a drum. All he can and will be burned into his brain never to be forgotten.

Hiiro was born to serve his brother, to assist the future in any and every way possible.

Everything Rinne tells him to do he must, he has no right to question him.

A million little rules he practices like breathing since birth until he can imagine no other way of being. Doesn’t even want to.

Hiiro has followed the rules and order laid out for him and in return knows he is doing right, knows he is correct. He is brought up in blacks and whites and those are the only shades he has ever known.

There is no questioning any of this, and Hiiro does not. But…

But.

Rinne does. Always asks Hiiro questions he cannot answer, shrugs off the comments and complaints of their elders as easily as Hiiro listens to their every word like the obedient child he is. Rinne runs and shirks from their traditions and goes off to places no one can find, not even Hiiro. Laughs at Hiiro’s reprimands while looking at him with eyes that see a world Hiiro cannot hope to breach.

The older they get the further his brother seems, but Hiiro is still here, still doing his best to be everything his brother needs, even when he’s unsure what that is.

He doesn’t know what to do with the fact that his life says one thing while Rinne says another. But Rinne does not make demands of him, does not order him, simply asks and asks even when Hiiro has no answers to give. So Hiiro continues to live the only way he knows how, does his best to make his brother happy even when he feels like he’s missing something.

It is all Hiiro can do. Until Rinne takes up the mantle of monarch and makes his wants so clear that Hiiro can finally understand. And hope that at that point in time Hiiro will be good enough to fulfill that wish.

-

(And yet.

Yet.

When he finally finds his brother after chasing him all around this confusing new world. When his brother looks at him, and does exactly what Hiiro has been hoping for this entire time—he tosses him away in that same breath.

Looks at Hiiro and tells him he is unnecessary, unneeded, useless.

Hiiro who has done everything in his power to be useful, helpful, needed by his brother. Hiiro who has done everything right by their hometown’s standards, wishes, demands.

Was that enough? Had he done something wrong here? His brother was confusing to him now, this world made little sense to him, he knew the concept of idols was not the malicious entity he had imagined. But then what could explain this? What else would make Rinne look at him and decide he is not worth keeping at his side.

What was Hiiro then, if not an existence to be by Rinne’s side?

Rinne said it like it was a gift, some honour he bestowed upon him as he banished Hiiro from their family, from their home, from their village, from everything he had ever known. And for all that Hiiro had come to enjoy his time here it was not his home, not where he was supposed to be. Meant to be.

And yet, his voice does not come out, cannot even think of questioning his brother's orders no matter how much he dislikes them.

Even if his brother does not need him, all Hiiro knows is to be needed by him.

So even until the final moment it is all he can think to do.

And for once, he wished himself capable of doing otherwise.

And he had no idea what to do with that feeling.)

-

The hours after pass in a blur.

Hiiro does not remember leaving, if he ran or walked or stood there frozen and terrified while his brother walked away from him for good.  Hiiro just remembers fear and desolation building in him the more his brother talked. Just remembers searching and searching for a reason, what he had done wrong, what he could to fix it. But he could not comprehend what was happening then, could not comprehend it now.

He shivers, it had been warm earlier with the sun blazing above him but now cool winds blew and the thin fabric of his uniform offered little protection. It was fine, cooler air would help him clear his head, help him make sense of it all.

Help him figure out why he was no longer good enough.

Why he was so useless that his brother saw no other recourse than to discard him under the disguise of some sort of gift.

His hands clench, hard enough that his nails dig in and sting. Hiiro was weak, in mind body and spirit, it was the only real explanation. That he had gone so wrong that his brother that had always claimed to love him had abandoned him.

He didn’t understand, love was a concept too nebulous for him to grasp. He had thought often when he was younger that he loved Rinne, Rinne was his everything after all. But as he got older it never felt quite right. What he felt was different then what Rinne meant when he said it to him, what the villagers meant when they said it to their family. Even here, he failed to grasp how idols and their fans said it so easily, how Aira used the word like a catchphrase. Was that part of the issue, was Hiiro failing at something so fundamentally basic that his brother could not forgive? Hiiro has felt so lost since coming here.

In this confusing new world that constantly contradicts that which he has always known. He should have been able to look to his brother for guidance. His brother to whom he should always listen, his brother who can do no wrong, because all he says is right. Nii-san please , Hiiro had thought, still thinks , just tell me what it is I’m supposed to do to make things right . But his brother did not answer, ran further away the more he chased. Left him floundering by himself, alone with unknown choices.

He shivers again, and knows it is not from the cold.

Where does Hiiro go from here? What is the point if Hiiro is no longer ne—

“—Hiro!” Comes Aira’s voice, suddenly at his side, didn’t sense him coming even though Aira is often so loud and clumsy with his steps. And he thinks, I should greet him, as is proper, say hello, apologize, anything. Hiiro always does things correctly, always does things the right way as he has been taught. Yet here again he fails, voice refusing to come out, his mind whirring with too many thoughts.

So instead, he listens, he can do that much. Be an attentive listener, a good friend. He can be at least that right? He’s never had a friend before, isn’t sure what to compare it to.

But even here he fails, ran away when they needed him, never returned, Hiiro could not protect his brother, could not protect the friends he had made here from the doomed fate that loomed over them. His brother had ordered him to stay here, to live the life he was leading with the rest of Alkaloid, but if he could not be counted on at the most vital step then what right did he have to stand here at all? Hiiro was not good enough to be needed by his brother and he wasn’t good enough to be useful for Alkaloid either, it seemed. Aira, Mayoi, Tatsumi, they were all working so hard to assure their future, that they would still have a place to belong when this was all over.

And what was Hiiro doing? He didn’t understand why this was so important, why they were all trying so hard. Couldn’t even be counted on.

Even without him they would…

“Huh? Just what are you talking about?” Aira protests, and Hiiro blinks, not even really aware he had even spoken aloud. But even so Aira continues, reprimanding him in a way he has long since grown accustomed to. It was simply the way Aira spoke, and Hiiro was used to accommodating others to make them happy. So as he said he would, he listens. Takes Aira’s complaints to heart because he’s right, has every right to be upset with him, to be annoyed by his careless remark.

“… I can’t do this without you, Hiro. So please… I don’t know what happened, I can’t even imagine it, but please stay with us. Don’t just disappear without warning. I’m begging you.” Aira concludes, and Hiiro’s heart stutters, reaching and grasping for the small thread of something that Aira’s statement lights in him.

“… You need me, Aira?” He asks, his voice too quiet even for his ears yet when the words leave him his throat burns like they have just finished practicing for the day. Feels like his whole body is trembling with the question, braced for the answer.

Aira looks at him oddly in response, lips pursed. “I said what I just said. Do you need something more?”

And it is not quite the answer he wanted, but it is still enough to calm down some of this wild unsettled feeling in him. To allow some part of him that felt so far away to settle down and allow him to focus and speak a bit more properly.

Yet still it is not enough, still he hesitates, feels lost and unsure. A friend in front of him who has searched who knows how long to find him and Hiiro cannot even leave his own misery and confusion long enough to appreciate it. He does not deserve Aira, or the kindness and worry that any of the members of Alkaloid extend to him. But still for some reason he cannot let it go.

Hiiro has never been as alone as he is right now, and despite every reason he should, why he does not deserve them, Hiiro cannot find it in him to lose this too.

Perhaps that is why he cannot stop himself from latching onto Aira, wrapping him into a hug. Even while the words to explain his situation fail to find him he takes Aira’s comfort and support.

Perhaps that is why despite the fact he should not accept it he allows Aira to take him on his back and carry him home. Aira who is so much smaller and weaker than him, Hiiro who should never be so weak as to need help like this. Hiiro who has not been carried like this since he was young and small and Rinne would take him away from prying his eyes on his back just like this. A million reasons that he has learned since he was old enough to understand as to why he should not be so vulnerable as to allow such a request to even be made and still he accepts.

Buries his face into the crook of Aira’s neck and closes his eyes. Allows the gentle sway of the wind and slight unevenness of Aira’s steps beneath his weight to calm his racing heart and mind.

Tries to pretend for just a moment that maybe everything will be okay.

That there’s still something he can do to fix this.

There just has to be.

-

(There is a small little voice in him, that grows louder with each and every passing moment.

That cries out a call too shameful to be him but cannot be denied.

Need me, he wants to say, to his brother, to Alkaloid, to anyone who will listen. Need me. I can be useful, I can be helpful, whatever you need. Please don’t leave me behind. Please don’t throw me away, please. The words bubble just beneath the surface, wanting to burst free into the world.

It is a desperate and pathetic cry that feels shameful to even think about, and yet is still there, a part of him he is unable to deny.

Hiiro was born and made to be helpful and supportive and needed.

Needs to be needed.

Or else he doesn’t know how to live.

Was never taught how; it wasn’t supposed to be something he needed to know.)

-

Even after Tatsumi had explained it to him, what he thought was going on with Rinne, why he had done things the way he had. Hiiro struggles to really understand.

He tosses and turns in his bed, worries and anxieties he had never felt before refusing to let him rest, whirring his thoughts in one direction and then another. Enough that Hiiro gives up on rest in general, rising from his bed to go for a walk to try to calm his racing thoughts.

He moves quietly, not wanting to bother his unit mates more than he already had, shutting the door silently behind him and heading for the stairs.

Tatsumi said his brother’s actions towards him, at the end and all throughout, had been for him. For his benefit, because he cared about him. That Rinne’s path of destruction had been his own, his carefully calculated plan. And to that extent Hiiro could understand, his brother had always been smart, had always been great at planning and seeing things Hiiro couldn’t. From the start Hiiro could guess his brother was playing at a grander scale than Hiiro could visualize, it would not have been the first time. That his brother’s actions were intentional, that his self-destruction was a sacrifice for his people here in the city, that made sense to him. Coincided with the image Hiiro had always held of him, of the great wonderful big brother he was, of the magnificent monarch he would one day be—was off to be right now, Hiiro supposes.

This Hiiro could understand, but…

What Rinne had done to him… for him.

Tatsumi had said it was all done for Hiiro’s benefit, to protect him as best as he could from everything that was going on around him. Hiiro might not have understood what was going on but Rinne had, and if Tatsumi was right then Rinne had specifically planned all of this with Hiiro in mind as well, to give him the best ending in all of this that he could.

Rinne had said this was a gift, of giving Hiiro everything Rinne thought he deserved, everything Rinne had always wanted to give him.

Hiiro still didn’t understand what the gift was.

How any of this was of benefit to him.

It was what confused him the most, what he had been trying his hardest to try to understand. What he understood, even if just a bit now, is that his brother had never been happy, not in their hometown, not with the person Hiiro had been moulded into being by their village. Every action Hiiro had done in hopes of being useful to his brother, to be the much needed aid and shield his brother was supposed to have when he ascended as Monarch, had meant nothing to his brother. Or worse, had been hated by Rinne even.

Freedom, Rinne had called it. But what was that, how did Hiiro achieve it? If he enjoyed his life as his brother had asked of him, if he found the freedom his brother had ordered him to have would he then take him back?

Perhaps this was a test he had been given? A final way to prove his loyalty to his brother. If it were true then that would make sense to Hiiro, would work into everything he had been taught.

But that was the issue, no? His brother had no love for their hometown’s teaching, had run away from them specifically because all of it was far too suffocating for him. No matter how much more this way of thinking would make sense to him, it wasn’t what Rinne had meant.

Hiiro’s brain did not think in the ways that seemed necessary to live and survive in this new world. Perhaps that was the problem, not with this city, not with his brother, but with him.

With the way he was taught. But that… that was even harder to believe because if it was true then what did that say about everything Hiiro had based his entire self on?

He takes a breath.

It was not all wrong, it couldn’t be, there were still truths there, still things that applied both here and there. He could not let himself get lost in these thoughts. As confusing as this was, Hiiro had things to focus on here and now, to not let his friends down.

They still needed him, and Hiiro would not disappoint them like had his brother.

“Hey~” Aira calls, voice cheerier than Hiiro would expect at this time of night. He startles, pushing his thoughts away as worry for his friend overwhelms him. It was late, dangerous even, for someone as weak and defenseless as Aira.

But Aira waves his concerns away, reminding him of where they are, that he is not a child to be protected. Hiiro smiles, his friend was smart, understood things in a way Hiiro simply couldn’t, was still struggling with even beginning to comprehend.

Hiiro loves him, he thinks, loves his friends. As much as Hiiro is capable of loving, anyways. He had never been allowed to have such a thing back home. And he wondered sometimes, what it would be like to have grown up playing with the other kids in the village, to have been allowed to talk to people who were not his family or his teachers. His brother was his world, but in a time too far gone for Hiiro to properly understand he remembers… wondering.

So it was nice, to have them now, a much better and kinder experience than he could have ever imagined on his own. And it makes his heart soar to hear Aira reciprocate that feeling. To hear Aira talk about how happy he was to have met him, all of Alkaloid, after having felt alone for so long. How happy he was to specifically have Hiiro here with him, that he had not left them, left Aira.

“I’ll be lonely if you’re gone, Hiro.” Aira concludes, voice soft and gentle.

Hiiro’s heart thuds in his chest, palms opening and closing. “Do you need me, Aira?” He asks again, voice just as soft, not quite as gentle.

His brother did not need him, had cast him aside, but if Hiiro could just devote himself to someone new maybe things would make more sense. Could find some solid ground again.

“Why do you keep asking that over and over again?” Aira replies instead, answering his question with a question. “I don’t like that word, ‘need’,” he elaborates with a shake of his head, “it sounds too snobbish for me.

“I’m your friend, Hiro, so I want to be with you. At least, that’s how I feel.”

And even as Aira continues, Hiiro’s thoughts linger there. To want, to not need, to do something out of desire and not necessity.

It’s not a concept Hiiro had any familiarity with.

Had never been something he was allowed to have.

“So, what about you, what do you want to do next, Hiro?” Aira asks. “How do you want to live your life?”

It was something his brother had asked him before. More than once. What do you want to be in the future? Who do you want to be? What is it that you want, Hiiro? Something that has nothing to do with me, or the village, something just for you. Tell me. They were questions that Hiiro had never had an answer to. Had never seen the point of answering.

But here he is, with no choice left but to answer.

Nothing left of the world he knew, just one left for him to make.

“Don’t decide on something because of others’ orders. Don’t simply take on something because that’s how things went in your hometown. You have to think with your own brain and make up your own mind.”

But how can Hiiro explain that he doesn’t know how to do that. That the thought is far too frightening to broach.

But he supposes he doesn’t have a choice left to make here. So he simply has to do his best, and trust in Aira when he tells him that he and the rest of Alkaloid will do their best to help him. That they will not abandon him, that they will do their best to stay by his side.

Wanting is a confusing topic still.

But Hiiro can believe, Hiiro can hope, and he guesses that can be his first step towards the Freedom his brother has apparently gifted onto him.

-

(The thing is, Hiiro’s hometown taught him everything he knows. How to be good and useful and needed. Taught him their laws in black and white. It is all he has ever known, all he thought he’d ever need to know.

But it never told him that when he runs and leaves to bring his brother home the world outside will be painted in shades of gray. That the world is not written in a simple set of rules that must be followed to achieve happiness. Didn’t tell him what he’s supposed to do in this confusing new world all on his own. And while he might’ve initially thought he could look to Rinne for those answers it’s become more than clear to him by now that it’s not going to happen. That Rinne wants him to figure this all out on his own.

So then, all Hiiro can do is take that first step himself. Come to his own decisions.

Face this new world with open eyes and understand it for himself, not, as Aira had said, through what he taught or what his village would want.

And yet, what is he supposed to do when every path he thinks of keeps going against all he was taught. What is he supposed to do when he learns that their concealed small little world hid a whole universe from his eyes. It feels like Hiiro has learned more in the past few weeks than he learned in the last few years back home.

It’s not like he hadn’t thought this before, but now Hiiro sits with it, and tries to really think about all he has seen and experienced in this past while, it’s hard to ignore.

In this world there is no Monarch, in this land ruled by democracy as long as one abides by the laws of the world you are your own Monarch. You made your own rules.

Which meant Hiiro made his own rules.

It was overwhelming.

What do you want? His brother asks, Aira asks. A question Hiiro had never understood, Hiiro did not want. Hiiro was told what he wanted and needed and the answer to that was that Hiiro wanted and needed what his brother told him. But Rinne did not want that for him, Aira told him that wasn’t right either.

So what did Hiiro want?

How did one even decide what to want to want? Was it okay to ask? Was he stupid for not knowing?

Hiiro had always known he was stupid, but it felt so much worse now.

What do you want?

What do you want?

Tell me Hiiro, what is it that you want?

The question circles in his head around and around until sleep finally takes him for the night.

Hiiro wants things to make sense again. )

-

Hiiro sits on the bed in their dorm room, staring at his hands in his lap. The rest of Alkaloid sit on the bed across from him, waiting, expectant.

Anzu had excused herself after their talk, assured him that whatever he had planned was probably fine with her, and if it wasn’t she would deal with it. She had been too busy to stay any longer.

That was fine, it would be easier to explain to just Alkaloid, he trusted them, his fellow unit mates that had stood by his side all this time.

Aira’s foot taps on the ground, Hiiro tries his best to believe it has nothing to do with how long he’s taking to start. His hands shake, anxious energy buzzing through him.

Hiiro could not remember a time he had ever felt scared or nervous, and yet here it was now, suffocating him.

“Hiiro-san.” Tatsumi says, his voice firm, and Hiiro blinks, looking at him. Tatsumi’s face is stern before him, and from behind he can see Mayoi’s hesitant concern, Aira hidden behind Tatsumi’s frame. He blinks again, taking in the gentle pressure Tatsumi places at his hands and his gaze flickers down to them.

Ah, he thinks distantly, staring at the way his thumb has dug into his opposite hands palm for long enough and with enough force that the skin around it is white. When he looks up again Tatsumi’s smile is gentle, and he stares lost, feeling as Tatsumi pulls his hands apart.

“I’m sorry.” He says softly, “I’m not sure why I did that.” Couldn’t even remember initiating the action.

“There is no need to apologize,” Tatsumi says, his hands around his as gentle as his smile. “Are you ready to speak, or do you need a while longer?”

The question feels like an offer, not chiding or prodding, like the three of them really would wait however long it would take him to find the words. It makes him feel warm, the anxious energy buzzing through him calming just a bit.

“I’m fine,” Hiiro assures, voice coming out stronger than he thought it would, helps him feel a little bit steadier, “don’t worry about me I’m okay. I can talk.”

Tatsumi watches him steadily and Hiiro grins, meaning it truly and dearly.

“Alright, if you’re sure.” Tatsumi says, stepping away, doing an odd motion with his hand if he does.

Mayoi is almost trembling when Tatsumi sits beside him. Hand shaking by his face like it is taking an effort to avoid biting down on his nails. “Don’t force yourself alright, Hiiro-san, really, the energy in this room is enough to make me faint.” Mayoi says, voice quivering and breaking off into a shrill breath at the end.

“I apologize, my friends.” He says loudly, pounding his fist to his chest, the action sudden enough that both Mayoi and Aira jerk in surprise. “I have left you all worried and anxious with my attitude. There might be no need to express my apologies here but I would like to offer them anyways, because you are all dear to me and I do not wish to trouble you. I thank you for your care and kindness, it means a lot to me.”

No one other than his brother had ever really cared about him, and it was only now that Hiiro was truly beginning to appreciate that. What it meant then, what it means to have more people now.

“You don’t have to thank us for that Hiro.” Aira chides, though his cheeks are flushed as he speaks.

“As your friends we are happy to help you anyway we can.” Tatsumi agrees, Mayoi nodding his head feverishly beside him.

“I understand that better now.” Hiiro agrees, “Which is why I would like to ask you for something, a selfish request of mine.”

The word tasted odd on his tongue, Hiiro had never even had the opportunity to be selfish before, yet there was no other word for it. For what he wanted to do, for the feeling that welled up in him.

It did not feel… bad. Perhaps sometimes selfishness could be its own form of kindness?

He wasn’t sure, was still learning, but now wasn’t the time to ask.

“What is it?”

“I would like to… I want…” his voice trails off.

He had slept little even after finally getting to sleep, woken up early by his thoughts, and thought on it until he had an answer.

What do you want to do, Hiiro?

What is it you want?

He thinks he knows, at least something for right now. And he’s sure that later on this will be harder, it is not even easy now. Even this feels strange, as sure as he feels as he is. But right now Hiiro is almost sure he wants this, has always wanted this.

Hiiro had once told his brother that he wanted to make him happy. It hadn’t made his brother happy back then, and Hiiro understood now it was because Hiiro had said that because it was he was told he should, not because he felt that way.

But he wanted to, really. His brother had told him that he wanted to give him everything the world had to offer, every sparkling and shiny thing he wanted to gift Hiiro. That this act was his last effort in trying to provide that.

Because Rinne loved this world, this sparkling world of love and idols that Hiiro was still struggling with. And he was leaving it, for Hiiro, for Rinne’s unit. Hiiro admired his decision as the Monarch’s aid. But he was no longer that, was he? So then, as someone who had grown up as Rinne’s brother, Hiiro wanted to give it all back, to let Rinne live in this shiny world he had run away to escape to. And though that action would disappoint his village, Hiiro was sure, it was the course of action Hiiro wanted to take.

His brother’s happiness meant more to him than the ‘right’ thing to do. So Hiiro would do what he could to make him happy again, that was what he wanted to do.

Even if his brother would not like it.

His brother had told him before after all, that he was allowed to do what he liked, even if it would displease him.

So Hiiro would.

“Is this about your brother?” Aira asks, interrupting Hiiro’s thoughts. “Because I don’t forgive him, you know.”

“Aira-san...” Mayoi mumbles.

“Well it’s true! He hurt people, and especially Hiro; he’s been sad and mopey ever since they spoke! No matter how much Rinne says he loves him I won’t forgive that.” Aira huffs, crossing his arms.

Hiiro laughs, perhaps louder than necessary. Normally he would’ve defended his brother, a part of him wanted to, might even still, but at the moment more prominently Hiiro felt so happy that Aira cared that much for him, that they all did.

“Aira is right, my brother hurt many people, and they are all within their rights to be angry with him, to want to discard him.” Hiiro begins as his laughter subsides. “But, even so, I want to save him, to give him the place here he has always wanted. And that is something I want to do, something I have decided on all on my own.” He finishes proudly. The more Hiiro thought the more he appreciated everything Rinne had done for him back home, none of it necessary when Hiiro was supposed to be nothing more than his shadow, his aid, his shield, but because Rinne wanted to. Because Rinne loved him. And Hiiro wanted to show that he did too, loved his wonderful caring and kind older brother.

“Ugh,” Aira groans, “well when you put it like that what else am I supposed to say.”

“As I’m sure Aira-san means, if that’s what you want, we will support you Hiiro-san.” Tatsumi says.

“Yes!” Mayoi agrees hastily. “I know I have not been the most useful here, but however I can help, I will. Use me as you wish.”

Hiiro licks his lips, a quieter kind of worry rushing through him. “I’m glad, but... are you sure? This will not be easy, and if it goes wrong I’m sure we will not be looked on kindly for trying to help someone who is so hated. We are barely getting by right now, this is my desire, my wish, but I don’t want to take you all down with me either.”

“We’re a unit, Hiro.” Aira says, looking not quite annoyed.

“And that means we will listen to your plan and play it out as you wish, but we’re in this together no matter what. There’s no reason to all we have done, all the sacrifices we have made, and struggles we have survived, if at the end it’s just us three without you Hiiro-san.” Tatsumi agrees.

“It’s as, ah, other units might say,” Mayoi says, biting his thumb, “all for one and one for all right?”

“Thanks, you all.” Hiiro says, and the words do not express how happy he feels even as he begins to explain his plan.

It is the lightest he’s felt since his confrontation with Rinne, perhaps the lightest he’s felt since arriving here at all.

Things will be okay, he’s sure.

It’s what he wants after all, so he’s going to give it his all to make sure it happens.

[microwaving-tesilid-argente]

This post is a response to that one anon who sent in an ask about something that happened in webnovel 223.

I would have replied to your ask but tumblr ate it up :( but anyway, thank you sm for sending the 2nd ask! it warned me about the 1st ask containing spoilers so i was able to avoid reading it. And I cannot begin to tell you how excited I was for the TL to reach 223 so I could finally read your ask. Anyway, the 1st ask + my response under cut

Aw, it's quite disappointing to hear that the genre change wasn't a big thing later on. I can't say if it maybe was in subtle ways anyway, bc. well. We literally just hit ch 223 and I have nothing on what came after. (But if I do see it I'll make sure to make a meta analysis post on it later!)

I think that the reason why the genre change doesn't feel significant is because of the genre it changed to: Action Fantasy. Ailette has spent most of her time in this life either fighting or training. In other words: her life was already an Action Fantasy story. She doesn’t need to make any changes to her lifestyle, she doesn’t suddenly get confronted with Romance-oriented narrative challenges. And so our narrative tone doesn’t seem to change either.

Like what the TM Gods said, what was important was removing the restriction that “relationships outside the original story will result in death”. And to do that, they just needed to:

destroy the original story (ie. get rid of the “time loop” part of the story) +

provide a new anchor for this world to rely on (making Ailette the new MC)

That MC changing to Ailette feels insignificant is probably also because Ailette has always been our protagonist. In other words, from the perspective of this world and the gods in it, something existence-changing has happened. But it’s not apparent to us because we exist outside the story as readers to S-Class Heroine, which already has Ailette as its protagonist. The genre and MC change is from the perspective of the characters, not us. They didn’t need to dramatically change the story from our perspective. (To them, we in fact don’t even exist at all.)

On the topic of the genre change again, the genre change probably would only have felt more significant to us if it had changed to Romance like Ailette had hoped. It would mean that the things that are narrated – ie. things that end up having significant consequences on the characters’ lives – are all romance- and not fighting-related. Ailette would probably spend all her time working on her interpersonal relationships instead of beating demons up.

Meta-wise, I think that this would not have been a wise writing choice. One of S-Class Heroine’s greatest strengths is that unlike most knight-themed OIs, the MC genuinely finds great joy in gaining martial strength (it’s not just a job or a setting to show off how just and noble she is). And the narrative honours that by giving a lot of screentime to the joys of training and fighting – separate from the romance. The fighting scenes are an ends in and of themselves. The reader is supposed to take joy and be invested in Ailette’s non-romance fighting adventures. 

I bet that there are quite a lot of readers who appreciate S-Class Heroine’s balance between action and romance. To have the story shift so dramatically to romance at the expense of action would have been a disservice to the readers who have enjoyed it for 200+ chapters. Admittedly, I’m pretty sure that most of us really wouldn’t mind; we probably came across it because it’s Rofan – but S-Class Heroine is a gem because it manages to be actually action-oriented as well. I think it’ll just be a waste for that to change, when tbh it doesn’t really need to - S-Class Heroine manage to do romance just fine even when both leads were very pointedly trying to shut up. S-Class Heroine works better without dramatically changing its meta (our-universe) genre.

And the thing is that S-Class Heroine is only a Romance Fantasy to us because we knew from the start that it was a romance story. In S-Class Heroine the webnovel, Ailette’s underlying romantic motivations were very much the point, even when– or rather especially when they weren’t explicit. But to Ailette, the romance bloomed completely organically. When it was revealed in the Toy Mansion arc that Ailette was exempt from Tesilid’s Commandments restrictions, we all knew it was because of The Romance. But Ailette was really only concerned about how it’d make her life easier, and she didn’t see Tesilid romantically for like. Years. The story that we read as outsiders and the life that Ailette experiences don't line up completely, because of the lens through which we view it. S-Class Heroine is a Rofan to us, but for Ailette, who very purposely did a bunch of mental gymnastics to shield the narration from her romantic feelings and who spends most of her time training anyway, it has always been an Action Fantasy.

And so basically, TLDR;

The Genre and Main Character Change Ticket has to be read from the perspective of the in-universe characters, to whom its name was actually relevant to. The Genre and MC Change Ticket is not for us. It’s a tool for them and it’s the language they use to understand their world, not for us to analyse the story’s meta narrative. 

It’s confusing because we’re using the same words; genre action fantasy romance etc., but they mean different things depending on who’s speaking them and activating the words. To Ailette and the TM Gods, genres are like keys unlocking different paths they can navigate this life with; it’s like choosing what course to take in school/college. To us, genres are ways to analyse S-Class Heroine the story, which just so happens to centre around Ailette.

There’s probably an ORV-esque point to be made here about the author-protagonist-reader relationship, especially the protagonist-reader one. Something something the protagonist exists outside of the reader’s own needs and projections and interpretations and the protagonist has their own concerns and worries and perspectives, which need not be a complete mirror of the reader’s own, even in a story where the reader is meant to identify with the protag. Something something joongdok divorce arc, I think. Don’t quote me I haven’t read ORV in 2 years and I never understood that arc. But I think the themes are similar.

Yeah anyway thanks for listening to me yap. Sorry if what you meant by “it feels like the MC change should have been more significant” wasn’t actually “it feels like we should have felt some substantial change in the narrative”. I’ll come and re-answer this ask again when I’ve read more chapters, if this wasn’t the case.

[popopretty]

The Day I Picked up Dazai - Side A (3)

Links to Parts: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Final

Continuation from Part 2. With this part, I have finished the first big part of the novel (about 30 pages). I currently do not have a clear plan of when and what I am going to translate next, so please kindly wait for updates.

This is from Side A of the Dazai novel which was given out as free bonus for those who come to the cinema to watch the BEAST live action movie in Japan.

Please carefully read the notes below before progressing.

- This post contains spoilers. It is not a summary, but a full translation of one part of novel. So if you plan to read the novel later yourself and think this would ruin your expectation, please stop here.

· I tried to keep the translation as accurate as possible, but as I don't speak English or Japanese as my native language, I may make some mistakes or use weird words etc. This translation might not be final. I may come back and fix it later if I find any mistakes.

· This is a moviegoers-only benefit, so please be extra careful when discussing it about on Twitter. Use a #spoilers tag on your tweets or your fanarts. You can share the links to this post but don't take many screenshots.

· Don’t retranslate it. [UPDATE MAY 9, 2023] You can retranslate it but please keep in mind that my translation is not perfect and some meanings will be lost through re-translation. If you are not sure about the meaning at any part, please let me know! Don’t repost this translation anywhere else out of Tumblr.

· DON’T GO TO THE AUTHORS’ OR OFFICIAL TWITTERS TO COMMENT ABOUT THE CONTENTS OF IT.

I'm sorry if that's too much but honestly all I want is for everyone to have a good experience, for those who wants to read the novels to be able to read the novels, and for those who don't want to be spoiled, to be safe from it as much as possible.

If you have read and are okay with all the above, please continue to move forward and enjoy the novel. Have a good day!

Just like that, many days have passed.

Dazai’s injuries have gone past the most difficult time and are slowly heading to the better. Even though the wounds should still be burning and painful, Dazai is strangely carefree. I don’t know why. He doesn’t seem to have any intention to riot and run away anymore, so I remove his leg restrains. I still keep the front door locked, though.

It is a pleasant autumn day. In the corner of the street, the fallen leaves whisper to each other the memories of when they were once parts of a tree. The scent of tea olive drifts in from nowhere, a scent that turns reminiscences of the past into vague and beautiful memories. I’m sitting by the window, ramblingly thinking about the past. An aimless time while waiting for coffee water to boil. What a luxurious use of time.

“What are you thinking about?”

Dazai asks from the bed.

“It is just this time when I quit my previous job. The tea olive was also blooming back then.”

“Previous job?”

I take a glance at the kettle in the kitchen. There is still some time before the water boils. For a moment, I thought it would be fine to talk until it is done. Then again, I wonder what I was thinking at that moment.

“Nothing big.” I say as I walk toward Dazai. “It was a violent job. But I quit.”

“Violent in what way?”

I do not answer.

The room sinks into silence for a little while. Somewhere I can hear the voice of the trumpet vine families calling to each other.

“Don’t wanna talk about it?” Dazai says as if he has given up, after a while. “Fine then. When the wounds are healed, I will leave. That’s all there is to our relationship anyway.”

I do not respond to those words either. In the kitchen, thin steam is rising from the kettle.

“You are right. When your wounds are healed, you will be gone. And you will end your life as you wish somewhere. Can I make a guess?”

“About what?”

“The reason you want to die.”

“Eh?”

“You want to die, because you are a fool.”

Dazai looks at me with startled eyes.

A silence falls over the room. Dazai turns around and shifts his weight, causing the old floorboard to creak slightly. Somewhere far away, a walking dog is barking at a tree on the street.

“Interesting.”

When Dazai finally says so, his eyes look different from those of any human being. And those of any living things. Those are wounds. A pair of open wounds on his face, from which darkness is peeping out.

“You’re talking big for a mere postman. However, many people have said the same thing. I can’t tell why they said that though. Because everyone is dead.”

Dazai’s face when he says that reminds me of the end of a culvert, or a black wall at the end of the road that leaves you no way to go.

“Is that so? But at least, if one dies without ever visiting that place, they can be called nothing but a fool. I can assure you of that.”

“Eh? What is that place?”

“It’s a quiet place. It’s not like it’s far away. You don’t even need any qualifications to get in. The thing is not everyone can enjoy the true value of that place.”

“It sounds like a riddle.” Dazai lets out a dry laugh. “Is that a strategy to get my attention by some kind of make-believe secret?”

“There is no point in using a strategy when the opponent is you.”

“That is true though.” Dazai says, turning his face to the other direction. “I can’t read you at all.”

Dazai looks at me with his face turned sideways. Then he looks at the front door and chuckles. It’s more like he is laughing at the current situation, rather than at me.

I feel that the gravity in the room has return to normal somehow.

“Alright. I will keep you company with a little silly talk as thanks for the treatment. You said it is foolish to die, right? So here is my question. If dying is foolish, then why do we have to die?”

Dazai is just there, as tranquil as an ancient book waiting for the answers to be unraveled.

“The fatality rate for the act of living is one-hundred percent.” he says, his voice sounding like an unworldly being who has lived for thousands of years. “But if you look at the whole living world, there are living things that do not die, and there are living things that do not have a life span. It means human’s death is nothing but a function of life. It is nothing more than a promise written in the script of life as a finale.”

I give it some thoughts. “So, you mean life is not something to regret?”

“No, it is worse than that. Even though we are all promised death, from the beginning, all human beings were born with a preset desire called “I don’t want to die”. This is also one-hundred percent true. That is why, that desire will never be fulfilled.”

There is that emptiness of reading a script that has been repeated thousands of times. The cliché that we have passed by and groaned over and over again.

“It means that the act of desire is merely a tool, a convenient hypothesis far from the truth, and we are merely followers of a hypothetical thesis that we have to live because our predecessors did. How do you argue against this dark theorem?”

I look at Dazai.

I come up with a lot of counterarguments. However, I know intuitively that Dazai has not revealed even one ten-thousandth of his true intention. Even if I try to argue with him, he has already prepared a counterargument to that counterargument. That is, again, a debate that is already discussed exhaustedly inside him. And the counterargument for that counterargument of a counterargument has already been prepared. Just like an infinite staircase descending to hell, Dazai’s dark reason has no bottom.

I take another glance at the kitchen. The water for my coffee has started steaming.

“Is that why you want to die?” I ask.

Dazai shakes his head to the side. “No. This is just a play on words. There are things that can’t be spoken by words. When it comes to things that can’t be spoken…”

“You have to be silent?” I continue what Dazai is saying. “It’s exactly like that. Only you can understand your world. But that doesn’t change the fact that you are a fool. I can assure you of that.”

Dazai goes ’kay kay as he sighs exaggeratedly and lies down on the bed. Like a teacher who has run out of patience for a child who never ceases to misbehave. “I don’t care to correct that but what is that place you talked about just now?”

“If you go, you will know.” I say and look out of the window. The street is bright and quiet.

“Why don’t you try and explain to it me right here right now?”

“I will pass. In this situation, no, in most situations, words are not to be trusted”.

“Hmph, so you do say such things. Even though you like novels?” Dazai says as he takes a look at my bookshelf.

“Yeah, that’s why I’m troubled.” I answer honestly.

Dazai looks at me for a while, and suddenly he laughs, somewhat more natural than ever before. “Interesting.” Dazai says. “You are humble. I don’t hate that.”

In the kitchen, the steam from the kettle is drawing a symbol in the air.

“I don’t hate spending time in this house either, not as much as I thought.”

At that moment, there is a knock on the front door.

…