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crystalelemental · 10 months

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With the introduction of Ice Zone this month, we have officially done it. All major types have a Zone. Except for Normal. Brace for anniversary, that's all I'm saying. But with each type now having a Zone, and the introduction of these newfangled rebuffs...how are the types doing?

See, when I started playing, it was pretty well accepted that Fire, Water, and Psychic ruled the meta. Electric wasn't too far behind, but didn't have the same powerhouses behind it. As someone on Reddit so eloquently put it back when Second Anniversary pairs were being dunked on: "They don't feel underwhelming because they're bad, they feel underwhelming because they don't abuse field effects. Every top meta threat has focused on application or abuse of field effects. It shouldn't be a surprise that these new pairs don't feel as overwhelming when there's nothing to take advantage of." But now, that discrepancy is (mostly) over. And are those types still top dogs? Today, I will be going over the types, and how I feel they perform in the current meta. This will include F2P tools, highest potential, and what I think is missing from the archetype.

18) Poison I mean...is anyone surprised? The entire type lives and dies by the question "Did you pull Emma?" Roxie getting an EX at least raises some hope, but I'll be honest, I don't anticipate much. Their F2P pairs are really bad at damage, and even premium options tend to be a rough time. Their Zone setter, H!Iris, is by far the worst of the bunch, having virtually no utility unless 3/5, where she gets a really crappy debuff rate on a shit-tier move. Poison is just depressing to think about.

17) Bug Though man, Bug is not far behind. Here's a fun question: did you pull SC Emmet or SS Hilbert? No? Good luck with life, then. Even Alder feels like a genuine struggle by comparison. And to be frank, I don't consider SC Emmet that good either. He's a clean sweep in CS, but in Gauntlet, I think I wind up benching him most times, even with long streaks. The F2P crowd seems good, but Bugsy and Noland both come with a ton of issues, including "Oops I couldn't quite take out center on second sync, my bad!" The general pool is also loaded with some of the worst. Guzma sucks, Burgh isn't great, Lusamine's stupid frail. And of course, SC Ingo is a really bad Zone setter, focused entirely on physical and not doing much else for the team. It has oddly solid supports in Aaron and Lodge Dawn, but like...Bug is not doing well.

16) Normal Now to make the sincere argument that Normal, a type who lacks Zone and can never deal the same damage as any other type due to supereffective modifiers. Yet I stand by it. Normal gets great utility. SC Steven is absurd. C!Red's SEUN application was downright unique before Jasmine sniped it from him. Even among the commons, you get a lot of nice effects for checking Gauntlet gimmicks, ensuring they often get used. That's more than I can say about Poison and Bug, frankly. It's not a good position, but I think Normal as a type at least offers better value than the last two, thanks to its range of effects.

15) Flying Flying is so weird to me. On the one hand, you have Lysandre, who is legitimately great after his expansion, and Kahili, who is one of the best F2P sync pairs for damage, backed by Skyla, one of the best F2P walls. But on the other. Anni Steven is the worst Master Fair. All of the type's options tend to be weirdo gimmicks like P!Elesa. Nate is there. Flying has some of the lowest lows the game offers, and just a few standout performers. Even its top competition often doesn't feel that exceptional. Like I know intuitively that SS Ethan is strong, but he never quite feels that great in CS or in Gauntlet.

14) Fairy Perhaps another contentious one, given recent additions, but Fairy sucks ass bro. How do you have three goddamn Zone setters and not one of them helps physical? I know Rain has similar issues, but Calem at least tries. I think the main problem is that no one actually fixes the issues present. Diantha, SS Wally, and Bede are the only good damage dealers, but anything else? Get out. Valerie got a shit grid, Mina's stats let her down, Lodge Lillie is great for Stall but needs EX to function as a competent syncer. And there's like no general pool fairies. Even at the top, NY!Lisia doesn't have a single good Zone setting partner, holding the type back way further than it needs to be. "But Sycamore-" always takes first sync and has serious issues with survival given how many Fairy-weak stages are physical. Despite having like a billion options to choose from, Fairy still feels like one of the worst types, which is staggering.

13) Steel On the one hand. Palentine's Marnie is a very good partner to the majority of the Steel type. On the other. Gauges are atrocious on literally everyone who isn't Molayne. Like, why are gauges so hard to work with on this type? And Marnie being so slow is the biggest problem, it doubles down on the worst aspect of the type. I do think Steel has some decent if limited performers in the F2P pool, and Gloria popped off but only really takes off under certain conditions. The type isn't exactly hurting, this is a fair break from the other types I think are just bad, but Steel does not feel like it's doing particularly well.

12) Ice I am going to make the bold declaration that Ice went from the worst type, to #12 overall, solely from Irida's inclusion. Like, if it were just SS Silver, I think I'd still put this at the bottom. But the Zone setter for this type went so hard that she's pulling Lorelei to off-type clears. That is, to put it bluntly, insane. The type went ballistic with Irida's presence. But as we're soon to find out, it takes more than one good sync pair to save a type, and when Irida isn't in play, oh my god does this type suck. It's the only weather to not have a competent support. All of your damage dealers are bad. Ghetsis has serious claim to the title of "Worst Legendary Pair," with people like me being entirely serious about Candice seeming better. The type was in complete shambles, and Irida alone does not make it good. Moreover, she helps the worst in the type, not the best, so Ice tends to not feel like a standout performer.

11) Ground Ground is blessed with Courtney, a general pool pair with Zone access. This is unheard of. She's literally the only one in the general pool with this effect. That's how bad Ground was. But time has been good to the type, and has resulted in them getting much needed improvement. SS Giovanni was a CS killer, Cynthia's expansions popped off, Maxie remains relevant, and Bertha and Courtney offered legitimately good general pool ground-type damage. These are the traits that put it above Ice. The trait that holds it back is that your F2P pairs are garbage. Naomi's good, but she's limited F2P, so that's not counted. Hapu and Clay were like the only Ground types most players had in my day, and are still the only really accessible options. And they are trash. They are absolute trash. Even with advances in the meta, they fail constantly. Ground succeeds by virtue of being less pigeonholed into a single option to make the type function, but it's definitely not good. I think it just needs a seriously good Lodge Striker in the type, and we'll call Ground much better.

10) Rock Rock is like Ice, if Ice had some competent independent performers. The type lives and dies now by the good graces of SS Diantha, who is the only way to salvage SS Brock, Grant, and Kukui. Again, you can't rely on one option, but thankfully it wasn't. Olivia was a great CS striker with her absurd sync, and the triple premium options of C!Blue, Emmet, and SC Hilda carried well enough to work. Rock wasn't as down and out as Ice was at its lowest point. But it's also never really risen to fame. There's not a great Rock-type solution. Emmet relies entirely on Sandstorm, Blue is the awkward physical sync/special DPS, and SC Hilda's technically weaker than both but more consistent, if reliant on setup support for attack and speed. They have options but nothing exceptional yet. Roxanne alt when?

9) Dragon Dragon has some of the better damage dealers in the game, so why am I being mean? Because they're not that great. Unless you are the combination of SS Brendan, Lucas, and SS Serena, Dragon is not doing so hot. Lance's expansion was good but not Cynthia tier, and C!Iris is falling off really hard. The bottom of the barrel picks are so bad as to be laughable (Sorry Iris and Clair, I love you but oh my god), and the free legendary pairs are awkward. Cyrus has better Water damage than Dragon, and Zinniquaza has a lot of competing demands. The type functions. It does well enough, but truthfully I consider it like the exact middle of the road type. Good enough that it's not struggling, but not so good it's standing out.

8) Fighting If Fighting succeeds at anything, it's having two exceptional Zone setters. Fairy may have three, but they're all super limited. Fighting is not so limited. On the one hand, Aura Cynthia is perfect godwall that emphasizes DPS play on a type with a ton of high-DPS options. On the other, NC Hop is fantastic debuffing potential and manual Zone, to let allies sync as needed. These are insanely strong tools that give the type relevance. Add to it, they have a standout performer in SC Diantha, who is so good that Cynthia not supporting her sync was considered a knock against Cynthia. And among F2P options, Bruno is fairly competent. But you'll note the issue. Each side only has one competent actor to follow up. A!Cynthia does not fully support the offensive buff needs of a pair like Brawly or Marshal. Hop can take a different support, but he's the type of Zone setter that eclipses the significance of any possible partner, which I consider a detriment. Why have other options if Hop is just better than all of them? So Fighting exists in a space with some real standouts, but there are very few of them, and don't ask about the rest.

7) Ghost Oh yeah, Ghost type. When I started, Anni Lillie was the big name. Ghost was considered one of the worst types, just no competent damage dealers. But when Lillie showed up, suddenly it was relevant. And I feel like every step since has been trying to make everyone better so Lillie is worse. Lillie had serious, notable limitations, and SS Korrina doesn't seem nearly as limited by comparison. Fantina and Shauntal are exceptional damage dealers on a cheaper budget, and Agatha is one of the best technical supports with Sleep and tremendous gauge control. Renegade Cynthia as their Zone setter could be better, but has a lot of beneficial tools for her type as well. Even for support, BP Morty and Lodge Morty are some of the best F2P pairs you can grab, while SC Lillie is the most efficient Sp Atk/Crit buffer around. While there are still some pairs that really struggle, Ghost is a type significantly improved, with a lot of viable options that compete.

6) Electric Electric was the forgotten child when I started playing. The three great types of Fire, Water, and Psychic had their field effects, and were known for crazy offensive potential because of them. But Electric also had one, dangit! Why weren't they as relevant? Well, it's because N had some glaring setup and gauge issues, and Marnie was a Tech with relatively limited DPS. Electric Terrain had no one to big up. Nowadays, Electric has the best sync pair in the game with SST Red, and the highest DPS by miles in Ash. So why isn't it top 5? Because its F2P game still sucks. Marnie and N got huge improvements, but when you look outside of premium? Elesa's fine but not exceptional. Hau, Sophocles, Surge, and BP Surge are all atrocious. Volkner's fairly poor as a terrain setter, Hau's Buddy move makes his terrain much worse off, and SST Red is so stupid good that partners are optional. The lower class in this type suck and need help, and their help is not helping. Electric is a type that, to this day, when I opt for more F2P budget runs, is the type I hate facing most. The options outside of premium are just so bad. It's like dying for a good Lodge striker.

5) Psychic At this point, I want to preface by saying I play a certain way, and pick favorites based on utility. Among the Three Great Types, Psychic fell off the hardest in the damage meta. You know it's bad when Lear, a sync pair nearly two years old, is still like the best sync nuker. Electric decisively has stronger options. But. Psychic's F2P and general pool game is immaculate, and while they're on longer top performers, premium pairs still put in exceptional work. Moreover, you have the blessing of Lucian, the supreme general pool unit, Giovanni's insane power, and Mesprit as the best Master BP pair. Psychic maintains relevance, but I feel like it's on the cusp of slipping really hard if it doesn't step up its game. Yes, C!Bede as the best support in the game is a massive win for it, but what it's really looking for as a specific archetype is the Terrain Supporter. It wants its SS Morty. So far we're getting Bianca, who's fine but falling off; Anni May, who's alright but got a bad expansion; and SS Lana, who frankly just makes CS conditions more annoying by removing the option for Physical Damage Reduction 8. I think the Terrain setters have, over time, been revealed to be really bad. They're far more focused on damage than utility, and it's to the type's detriment.

4) Water When I started, Water was the de facto best type. Archie ruled the meta with an iron fist, and having both Roxanne and May in his corner just made the whole situation perfect. It's been two years since those days, and in a meta with NC Serena and SS Lysandre, why do I think Water fell from grace? Well, a few reasons. While Water has one of the highest potential ceilings for damage, and some really standout performers...its F2P game kinda sucks ass. No, I'm sorry, we need to talk about this. Unless you have EX Siebold, F2P Water is handled by Cyrus, a Dragon. Your actual Water pairs are garbage. Lodge Rosa and Lodge Silver are terrible at their jobs. Lodge May struggles ridiculously to compete. Barry has really difficult sync conditions to fulfill. Crasher Wake needs the foe to be flinched which is a death sentence. Water lives and dies by its premium fare, and while that includes many a busted damage dealer and one of the best supports to ever do it, their floor is quite low. Moreover, three Rain supports, and not one of them perfectly helps SS Grimsley. Poor dude. Water has a lot of support behind it, so it's definitely in the upper echelon of types. But I think time and an evolving meta has made Water less versatile. It's all high DPS premium stuff while anything below that seems to struggle without SS Kris' presence.

3) Fire Fire, as one of the Three Great Types with Water and Psychic, succeeded based on having a field effect that was easily accessed. Only four types did, but Fire was considered one of the best, due to the routine application of some of the dumbest DPS units available in SS Red and Leon. Fire never let up on that particular gas, producing constant offensive powerhouses with fairly efficient self-setup. The reason I think Fire adapted better than Water, however, is that Fire has SS Morty. See, Fire figured something out. Instead of raw DPS and pumping that higher, Morty offers the alternative: I've got enough firepower, what I need is survival. And they hired someone immortal. Fire feels more versatile than Water now, and better able to handle the nonsense that's thrown their way. Moreover, every Fire type, barring like Flint I guess, benefits from Morty. There are Water types that don't mesh with Kris. But every Fire type that doesn't cap crit, handles offense well enough. And if they don't (Leon), Eevee Lucas filled the gap. Fire is just...consistent and efficient and flexible. I think they got it all down pat. But they also don't reach the same plateau that Water does. There's no obscene damage comp like Dual Frogs + SS Lysandre. SS May is great, but not as good as Dojo Gloria. Water one-ups Fire's damage, but I think Fire just offers better utility.

2) Grass Grass types recently went ballistic. SS Lyra was the first popping off. Not only did they get Grassy Terrain to finally join the field effect meta, but Lyra's guaranteed flinch rate with easy quad queue made literally anything viable, without Lyra completely overshadowing her teammates offensively. Grass had some odds and ends additions, including the incredibly fun SC Rosa, but largely kinda held back as a consistent but decisively okay type. And then SS Acerola showed up, and packed the most consistent physical DPS stacking you could imagine. And now we got Adaman, who's offering absurd damage with no gauge cost, and permanent Sun. Grass was already doing well, but it's exploded recently. I think it's still in a position overall where it would really like some better special support, but it's hard to find fault with Grass. Moreover, it carries the same general benefits as Psychic, thanks to a wide array of supporting tools. Sleep Powder Ramos, Stall Master BP Erika, Gauntlet Master base Erika, SS Leaf's shenanigans going through the roof, SC Rosa's fascinating debuff combination. Grass just offers a lot of value, and some generally unstoppable team compositions.

1) Dark But nobody is doing it like Dark. For a while, Dark was one of my least favorite types. You just had like nothing good to work with. Nanu wasn't damage, BP Karen just died, base Karen struggled like hell, Grimsley was there. But man, things have changed. Not for Grimsley. He's still a mess. But like...SS Cyrus came in as a great disruptive tool with Zone. He didn't specifically boost damage of allies, but the AoE sleep was valuable on literally any team, making him one of the better Zone setters. Champion Calem then came in with tremendous benefits to the physical side of the type, while offering some support to special. Then SC Zinnia came in, perfectly complemented his needs, and packed some of the funniest broken nonsense available, including shutting down all buffs for the enemy team for a duration, and a 70% flinch rate and zero gauge cost on unbuffed foes. And of course, NC Marnie comes in with Ash-like survival, sacrificing his absurd Buddy move DPS for more consistent damage and a 50-60% flinch rate. Dark is riding high, and it's incredibly hard to find a flaw in the type. Even among F2P pairs, Nanu got an insanely good grid, base Karen popped off on her expansion and it turns out my fear around BP Karen was unfounded because damn she gets a job done. Dark currently feels like the strongest and most well-rounded team composition. It actually leads the sync damage leaderboard, though Dark-type NC Serena. Dark's just been on a roll lately.

#pokemon masters #ranking the types

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mrsbrekkers · 3 years

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Hiii I just read your Jesper imagines and they're soooo good. Jesper is my fave so I was wondering if I could pretty please request a Jesper imagine? Something like y/n is a student at Ketterdam University and has finals coming up and is studying non-stop. Eventually she breaks down due to the stress so her loving boyfriend Jesper comforts her and makes sure she gets a well deserved break.

Might be based off of my current situation haha so if only I had a comfort Jesper at my disposal.

Thank you so much if you decide to write it!! And have a great rest of your day.

hi there friend! i totally understand this feeling atm, so it was easy to write it. it came out as more of a blurb ( considering i write 3000ish words per imagine, this is 1500 i believe ) but i think it makes more sense that way? just soft jesper comforting so ya know? we all need a jesper at our disposal, period.

reader is gender neutral as per usual in my jesper fics! you also, as the reader, can determine what you're studying at university, i left that to the imagination! :)

pairings! jesper x reader!

warnings! none? literally pure fluff? LMAO

word count! 1532!

COFFEE AND FINAL BLUES

Finals. They were draining. Any student at the university knew that. It was hard to get any sort of break during these weeks. It didn’t help that teachers would schedule several finals on the same day. They never wanted to give the students any breathing air. It was times like this when Y/N would wonder if dropping out was simpler. Of course, their boyfriend, Jesper Fahey, someone who had dropped out, would always tell them it wasn’t worth it. He was the only reason Y/N could say they were still in university. It became overwhelming so quickly, and Jesper was the calm in the storm.

Y/N could remember distinctly when they’d first met Jesper, because it was at their favorite coffee shop when they’d both been freshmen university students. The smell of the coffee shop, the bustling students as some situated themselves in corners of the shop, ready to begin their already large stacks of homework. Or the students who chatted away in the line, some talking of graduating that year as seniors. Some talking of their career choices. It was Y/N’s favorite place because it was so easy to become lost in it. Lost in the smell of coffee, paper, and books. Or the chatter and how it drowned one out, making it easy to fit in.

“Large iced caramel high rise please,” Y/N spoke to the barista, who gave a nod and small smile. They’d become accustomed to the freshmen’ order. When handed their coffee, Y/N went to turn and head towards their table, planning on starting up their first paper of the semester, but running into a large chest stopped them, the cold coffee rushed out of the cup, spilling all over both bodies present.

“Fuck!” Y/N looked down at the ground, seeing the now empty cup. Dammit, that was SIX dollars! Who the hell- but the words were lost in their throat as they looked up at the taller man, seeing him frantically trying to say something. It was downright adorable. Most university students would’ve been asshats about it, but the man in front of them seemed desperate to apologise.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to do that, let me buy you a new one!” The words left quickly, the man seeming to not care about the coffee he was now wearing.

“It’s alright, really, but a new one sounds nice, I have a paper to start and need the energy” Y/N said, laughing a bit. Normally, a bitchy comment would’ve also left their mouth, but they could see the man before them was trying to be kind about the situation and make it right. Someone who isn’t an asshat, that’s nice.

“Iced caramel high rise, right?” Jesper asked.

“Yeah, I’m going to go clean up. I’ll be right back,” Y/N said, moving towards the bathroom in the small shop. Once they’d fully cleaned up, they exited the bathroom, seeing their new drink on their table. A small note attached to the cup with his name on it, the classes he was taking, and that he was a freshmen. That and a small compliment.

“Jesper, cute,” Y/N said before sitting and taking a sip of their coffee.

Y/N should’ve thanked freshmen year for being as easy as it’d been, because being a senior now with less than a week to finish their fifty page paper? Was exhausting. The constant struggle to topple out of bed from long nights was already enough to make one want to cry, but alongside going to early classes, not having your boyfriend during said classes, and having no time to yourself? It was becoming too much.

The dorm was silent for the time being, Y/N sitting and taking notes for the paper they had due. They’d managed twenty pages so far, but now they were trying to gather more intel for the thirty more they needed. It was going fine, but it would only take that one thing to make them snap.

And it did. That one thing happened.

Hearing their pencil snap, Y/N sucked in a deep breath, putting their head in their hands. They grabbed the pencil sharpener next to them, going to sharpen their pencil, but after several minutes of trying, they threw the pencil down alongside the sharpener. Saints, just one good thing, please?

Y/N stood, walking towards the door to run and grab more coffee, but upon hitting their toe against the edge of bed frame, and then proceeding to topple over onto the dorm room floor, they laid there for a moment, tears appearing in their eyes. All the overwhelming sensations from the past week came rushing in, and a sob broke from their throat.

The door opened moments later, Jesper entering with the key he’d been gifted from Y/N when they’d become official. Even after he’d dropped out, he was still finding ways to sneak into the university and see his significant other. What he didn’t expect to see was Y/N on the floor, curled up into a small ball, tears streaming down their face.

“Lovebug? Hey, hey, what’s wrong?” Jesper was quick to shut the door and fall to the ground, taking Y/N into his arms. He felt them curl up to him, his shirt becoming wet in the process, but he didn’t care. What he did care about was what was causing such tears, but he had a pretty decent idea.

“Everything. I couldn’t get one thing right today. My coffee tasted weird, I forgot my key at the shop, so I had to walk back to grab it. I then came back to find out my backpack was left at class, which meant I couldn’t get it until Monday. I have my paper here in the dorm, but I can’t work on stuff due this week until tomorrow, putting me EVEN MORE behind. I broke my pencil, it didn’t want to sharpen, and then I stubbed my toe against my bed frame, and fell,” Y/N ranted, sniffling as they leaned against their boyfriend, arms around him in the best way they could manage. A small hiccup followed their rant, their eyes looking up at their boyfriend, who simply smiled a bit.

“Rough day then, hm lovebug? Finals I suspect?” Jesper asked softly, brushing his fingers through Y/N’s hair as he spoke. He hadn’t been in university long enough to remember the finals that Ketterdam would throw on students, but he imagined they were torturous. He remembered how the teachers were, that was for sure.

Y/N nodded, resituating themself so they now sat in Jesper’s lap, head on his shoulder, and face buried into his neck. They still were curled against him, but now they could take in their boyfriend’s warmth completely, and slowly, their tears died down.

“I just wish the teachers would give us breaks,” Y/N murmured.

“I know, I know. Why don’t you come down to the Crow Club? It’s slow right now, and Nina has been dying to see you anyway. A break with me, the other crows, and some food? I’m sure Nina will share some of her treats right now if you’d like her too,” Jesper offered, his hand finding the back of Y/N’s head, cradling it against him. His other arm wrapped around them, keeping them close.

“Can we? And then come back to cuddle?” Y/N asked softly, looking up at Jesper, who laughed a bit, but nodded.

“Cuddles immediately after, I promise you,” Jesper said, kissing the top of Y/N’s forehead.

“Good, I love Jesper cuddles. They’re the best cuddles,” Y/N said with a smile pulling at their lips. The first one to have graced their features in the last week.

“I missed that smile.” Jesper indeed had. He’d seen how finals wiped away all sense of happiness from the students at the university. How they made students irritated, less likely to smile. He hadn’t seen Y/N smile in almost two weeks. Leaning down, he placed a soft kiss to their lips, tasting the remains of the caramel high rise Y/N still ordered. It brought him back to the first time he’d met them, and he couldn’t help but smile like a child.

“I love you, you know that, right lovebug?” Jesper whispered against their lips, earning an airy laugh. One that Jesper knew all too well.

“I know. I love you too,” Y/N whispered back, opening their eyes to fully look up at their lover. Seeing Jesper for the first time that day, their hands softly moved from their place around him, landing on his shoulders.

“Come on, let’s go get you some snacks and sweets,” Jesper said softly, picking Y/N up, watching them squeal as they went to hop from his hold.

“I need to change silly!” Y/N exclaimed, managing to hop from Jesper’s hold, but were simply pulled back into his arms moments later.

“No you don’t, you’re wearing my sweater and sweatpants. It’s perfect attire for this!” Jesper exclaimed back, carrying Y/N out of the dorm room over his shoulder.

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scrawnytreedemon · 3 years

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Shit I’ve Been Winding Up For A Long Time Now But Am Very Aware Will Probably Hold No Relevance Should I Actually Go Into This More--

This is about Bhunivelze.

You know, when I was chilling out, on my bed, that evening on that half term in early June, deciding to check up on ClementJ64′s FF retrospective because-- Hey! It’s been awhile, I wonder if he’s got around to doing the final bit of the FFXIII saga --You know, I was there, chilling, just for a laff. Just a laff.

The rest of that week was spent spiralling into a hyperfixation I absolutely did not anticipate in any way, shape, or form, because the way they introduced that character was “wwhdhfjjhHJDFJKHKJHW H A T??”

That retrospective and a good amount of wiki-scrounging is all I have as a basis for this. This is not a coherent character analysis-- Though I might tag it as that for ease of access. This is not, by any means, the thoughts of someone deeply familiar with FFXIII on the whole beyond plot synopses and overarching themes.

I don’t think I’m brave enough for that.

Reading the vast yet surface-deep lore on those wiki pages on my birthday while in a delirious state of mind was enough to make me somewhat nauseous.

Do you think I’m going to go through all of that in real time?

(Someday, someday.)

Ugh, I don’t know how to begin, but let us, I guess. I’d recommend you read this church-mime-demiurge’s FF Wiki page if you want the same level of base-knowledge I had, and maybe the aformentioned retrospective if you want the experience, because I don’t think I have the wherewithal to get into all of that from the bottom-up.

I am also, so, so fucking sorry for any remaining FFXIII fans in advance. There is like, a good chance I may be butchering the characterisation completely, so bear with me here.

With that... we begin?

Where do we even start with this guy?

How on earth to you begin to explain the absolute monolith you’ve constructed from crumbs of a Guy, some material no doubt spliced in from the Pale King, Sephiroth, y o u r o w n G o d O C and other characters, and the mountains of religious trauma you carry around at all times that is probably the only reason you’ve been able to latch on as hard as you did?

I’m going to try.

What gets me, in summary, about Bhunivelze is how he’s a prime example of how love and concern can become deadly forces if in the wrong hands. His first acquainting with human emotion was by deceiving and possessing Hope, reverting his body to a teenage state, and planning to live among humanity through him. He sees human sorrow and suffering, and decides that, to End This(because it must be ended, you see) he’s going to destroy all the souls of the deceased that make up the Chaos that’s been eating this world for the past five-hundred years so they all forget and Are Happy. :).

Capital G God here hasn’t been present for the vast part of human history because he’s hidden himself away from Everything due to paranoia from killing his own mother and throwing her body into the Cosmic Basement, THEN creating the beings that would come to create humanity and OTHER beings because he didn’t have the keys to the cosmic basement. And also he believes death is a thing because she’d’ve somehow cursed all things to pass(including him) out of Spite.

Which explains why he’s so fucking averse to it and anything to do with it.

Bhunivelze, to put it lightly, is Shit at stepping into others’ shoes and Getting their experiences-- All the FalCie in FFXIII are, but him especially. It’s clear(again, in the f u c k i n g JP--) that he makes attempts to sympathise with them and does what he can to help, but it’s with such a loftiness and a complete inability to Understand why anyone would want grief, The Worst Fucking Experience In Existence, and even less why they’d be willing to Go Up Against Him And HisThe New Perfect World just for it-- And what would it matter, anyway, forgetting their loved ones. It’s not like you can grieve lost memories, right?

Right.

It reminds me of when at the end of the story of Job in the Bible, where, after putting this man through hell on earth, God rewards Job by giving him ten new children to make up for the ones that he lost. I. And that’s fucked! Nothing can replace the sheer uniqueness of each individual person you loved so dearly! But if you were a nigh-omnipotent deity high and mighty, with a cursory, almost mechanical knowledge on the functionings of the human psyche, that would seem adequete; enough.

Bhunivelze is doing that on a cosmic level.

I now want to get onto the romance: that being, his affections for Lightning. I don’t know how much I’m going to say, but it’ll probably be alot. It’s something that hits very close to home.

There is this... thing, within certain branches of Christianity, perhaps even in those of various Abrahamic faiths, where God’s love is posited to be the love-- The ultimate, most-fulfilling, all-encompassing love you could ever imagine --Because, well, he is love, so the story goes, and so often the best way to convey that is through the imagery of...

Marriage.

Giving up yourself so completely, to serve, to be the Bride; to be bound by him for all eternity; and for there to be no higher bliss than this.

This angle is pushed on young girls and women the most; from the mere parallels to the woman’s role in marriage, all the way down to downright-horrifying ultra-Evangelical purity pacts. With men, God is your dad, your best bud and confidant, your boss, your king, your this, your that, and the ‘marriage‘ as it were is relegated to a sort of half-thought; a metaphor.

For me, God was an attempt at all that, and my arranged groom.

(It was almost incestuous; was incestuous, that my own Divine Father would reach for my hand in marriage.)

Bhunivelze experiences Emotions™ for the first time through Hope, experiences Hope’s sheer overwhelming admiration for Lighting(whether there were any baby-crush feelings mixed in, I can’t say), and promptly falls into a nigh-romantic obsession with Lightning, deciding that she will be Etro(his all-but daughter)’s replacement, will be his Goddess of Death to-be-- He even calls her as such, before the final boss-battle--

...In the JP.

What happened in localisation, probably due to a number of factors, all the way back in early 2014, was that everything emotionally challenging about Bhunivelze was scraped off, like it was extra fat, and tossed aside, leaving us with the bland, clichéd shell of a foe-god we’ve seen time and time again. And I mean everything. I mean his very love for humanity; the fact his ploy was, in his eyes, to save them. Because if they’d left that all on, then it would raise the question of even if there was such a seemingly pure, all-knowing, loving being hell-bent on setting things “straight,“ would they truly be unquestionable? Would we have the right to fight for our humanity in the face of the Creator of the Universe?

To reject a love so personal?

That’s what gets me about FFXIII’s tackling of God, no matter how hackneyed and poorly-executed. It’s personal.

It’s from a feminine experience.

I know that terming is... vague, and problematic, but the way Christianity and much of the video game industry handle femininity itself is weird and problematic, so as it stands, I’ll have to simplify it. Apologies.

What sets FFXIII’s Let’s Kill God™ plot aside from most JRPG Let’s Kill God™ plots is that with our protagonist being a woman, and one who is very in touch with her femininity alongside her sheer strength; often, in these stories, God is reduced to Yet Another Foe, expected or unexpected, and you are tasked with taking him down unquestioningly for the Good of Mankind-- You will fight God, because you are right to, and you will go man-to-man-to-however-many-men you decide to bring along for the bloodbath.

And that just, doesn’t speak to me.

Even as an Extian.

Especially as an Extian. And an AFAB one with a deeply complicated experience with my gender, at that.

Leaving Christianity was painful. Questioning God was painful. Coming to terms with the fact that I had been mentally, emotionally, and spiritually traumatised under the guise of All-Encompassing Love was so, so fucking painful. I had been taught since I was five years old to devote myself to him, spent my life desperate to feel something, anything, to stay connected because I just, I never could Feel It on a deeper level, never could Give Up Myself, all I was, couldn’t Die A Spiritual Death And Be Reborn As His Eager Vessel, thus deeming myself to be worthless and a broken vessel for years and years on end... And for all that to have been... Nothing.

Lightning is hollowed out, the shards of her dead sister ripped from her in-stasis, leaving her emotionally numb for the majority of the game, Bhunivelze sweeps it under the rug, pretends he’ll perform a miracle and return Serah to life in exchange for her compliance, then sends her on her way to do his work, all the while knowing he’s going to pull said-rug from under her and elevate her such dizzying heights in the aftermath--

That he’ll deny her humanity.

Sand down all the rough edges that make her her, and polish her up afterwards, gild her as he is gilded, make her a Goddess.

And he’ll do it all because he loves her.

You can’t fight God like you can everything else. To fight It is the fight Existence Itself; FFXIII even conveys that by making Bhunivelze’s model part of the arena; it’s baked into the fabric of the game, no matter how minute.

While Lightning Returns is far from perfect in its execution of this concept, and that in itself makes me wince, not even taking into account the horribly botched excuse for a localisation Bhunivelze endured, it speaks to me more than anything else I’ve seen so far.

And it’s helped uncover some things within me. Helped me untangle them, just a little more.

So, yeah. I have alot of Thoughts on Bhunivelze, I want to share them, and I’m kinda really sad I have no one but my currently-absent friend Vee to share them with. I could get into alot more, like his very Fucked relationship with familial bonds, and how Lightning’s role as saviour so deeply parallels the overwhelming panic and never-ending guilt of Evangelical proselytisation, but I think I’ll leave those for another time.

In short, Bhunivelze is the epitome of Divine Love gone deeply wrong; on all fronts.

And if all of that isn’t enough to intrigue you, then, in Vee’s words, Lightning and Velze are literally canon endgame Sefikura lmaOOOOOOOOOOOOOO--

#ffxiii #lightning returns #bhunivelze #analysis #scrawny speaks #scrawny rambles #this was written on and off over the course of a couple months #i know this will only get two notes #if even that #but fuck it i love this guy and i'm going to puke words for his sake #religion mention

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victorianoruben · 3 years

Text

{Untitled yet}

Ruvik X F!Reader

Chapter 1

Warning: none, I guess?

Written by: me and @another-bryk-in-the-wall

(thanks to my best friend for beta-reading it!)

Sometimes the hours are blurring together on nightshifts. Sometimes they are extremely stressful. Emergencies where there are only two people on a shift.

Other times you have 6 hours of complete rest and boredom.

That day it was the latter.

You haven't been working here for long and already find this hospital to be “different from others".

Many employees were emotionally cold and absolutely not interested in anyone, while just some liked to make jokes with you and treated you like a normal person. Also, the whole atmosphere here seemed very private. There weren’t too many patients who were going out of their way to socialize or make friends inside of the hospital. Hell, most didn’t even leave their rooms.

You sat bored in the lounge with your mobile phone in hand until you suddenly heard footsteps. They reverberated eerily in the long hallway and you turned to face that direction, startled. It was rare that anyone was wandering the halls this late at night. You saw a man in a tight red uniform aiming to walk past you, not even acknowledging your presence.

Only when you took a closer look at him, did you notice his burn scars. They were covering half of his face. When he noticed that you were looking at him from head to toe you decided to greet him, instead of just awkwardly staring at him. A relatively meek "Good evening, Sir" came out of you. You felt very overwhelmed by his dominant presence, which intimidated you a bit. That feeling only worsened when you let your eyes wander to the top of his head... Was that his brain surrounded by glass? No, that couldn't be. You were surely imagining things. But, what if you weren’t. Oh god damn it, what had he been through?

He emanated a unique self-confidence unlike anything you had ever seen in anyone with facial scarring. Usually patients like that were unsure and shy, afraid of being judged over something they had no control over. Human beings could be downright nasty to anyone with a scarred face. Something about facial scars disgusted people and the victims could clearly feel the contempt of others and as a result, they tended to lose all confidence.

This man, however, seemed to practically ooze confidence, which you respected and you caught yourself of being fascinated by or more like interested in his presence. You felt how your heartbeat rose from 0 to 100 when you both made eye contact, though you tried all your best to keep yourself collected and professionally polite. But that didn't work that easily.

"Good evening.", the man replied, his face completely blank and his voice monotone. He was just looking at you without a friendly gesture, without a smile. The man was simply studying your appearance as well. One of the many abilities he gained over the years was that he could read people like an open book, left open for him to peak in. Someone had longer fingernails on their right hand and short on the left? Guitar player who doesn't want to destroy the neck of said guitar. Some dog owners always carried treats with them, even if the dog wasn’t coming along. All those little clues told him enough about a person before they even spoke their first sentence.

But you. He couldn't read you yet, and this peaked his interest.

You hadn't been here for a long time, because he knew all the long-term workers and their darkest secrets.

"Are you busy right now?", the man pointedly looked at the phone in your hand, currently playing a silly cat video. Truth be told, he enjoyed that kind of content, but would he ad this? Never. Absolutely never. He would rather get the other side of his brain exposed than to admit that he liked cat videos.

"I need some help with my studies. Care to join me?", that was a big lie but he was curious -

Who were you and why did you peak his interest more than the average nurse in here? He'd find out soon enough.

Only now did you wonder what he was even doing here during these late hours. He didn’t look like a doctor. Was he a lab assistant? He certainly looked like some sort of scientist.

Pressing your lips in a thin line with a weak smile you put my phone in your pocket and nodded, slightly mortified that he had caught you watching cat videos of all things. It surely didn’t look professional.

"No, I'm not really busy. I’m just having a long boring night- I mean, not that I’m complaining... I wouldn't wish for emergencies either. So, yeah… I’d be glad to help you," You fumbled a little over your words, still slightly unsettled by his presence.

You’d do nearly anything to escape the boredom of a quiet nightshift, though. And you weren’t really worried about him being some kind of serial killer. Sure, your colleagues were weird, but they weren’t really the kind of people to chop you to pieces and bury you in the closest forest. Weird didn’t equal serial killer. Besides, you were curious about the man.

You were walking next to each other in silence that was quickly going growing awkward. Nervously you were fumbling with your hands in your smock overall, thinking of starting any conversation just to get out of this uncomfortable silence.

"I've never seen you before. I'm still pretty new here. Do you work here as a laboratory or doctor assistant? Also, with many nightshifts? Is that really that common in this mental hospital? " You had narrowed your eyes questioningly when you looked up to him. By reading his facial expressions it didn't seem like he liked to answer you. His forehead was wrinkling in silent contemplation, which made you suspicious. It was unusual to have an assistant running around here so late at night.

Maybe you weren’t so far of with the serial killer suspicions. You actually contemplated hightailing out of there.

'Quick, think of an answer. She is just a pretty and naive nurse'

But even a little slip up could cost his head. He could tell by her tensing posture that she was seconds away from fleeing the scene.

‘That could end badly’

"I mostly work nights," he tried to keep his answers short and to the point. Laying on a confidence in his answer that he didn’t actually feel. He made sure to look her in the eye shortly and casually avert his gaze back to the hallway. If he didn’t look her in the eyes at all he would look like a liar and if he stared at her too much he’d look like one too. It was a delicate balance, that he had mastered over the years "That is because the nights are quieter and I can focus on the patients better this way."

You took a glance at him, still wondering about what his actual job was. His answer was too vague for your taste. But the curiosity was still grown inside of you.

You had decided to work in a mental hospital because the human psyche had always been kind of a mystery to you. Mental illnesses were both fascinating and tragic in your eyes. The mind was even more delicate than the body, in your eyes. It was so easy to break and healing it was a true challenge. It was your goal to help people with mental illnesses like depressions, dissociative disorders and PTDS.

So, you really wanted to know what this scientist - or whatever - was working on.

You both arrived at the door to his office. You signed an NDA before, but who knew what could happened once you opened mouth. He didn't trust anyone in this damn hospital.

"Do not be surprised by the sight in front of you once I open this door. All I am asking you is to check the vitals of the patients in the bathtubs. I want to make sure they are doing well but I am not entirely sure how to do that.", he lied through his teeth, ready to push you into one of the bathtubs once the chance was there.

Or could you be useful to him in the near future?

When you entered his so-called office after his warning you had expected anything - but that!

Never in your life had you seen a machine this far developed... It looked like something directly taken out of a science-fiction movie. The construction filled the whole room. There were wires everywhere, all connecting to a weird sphere in the middle of the room. Completely gob-smacked by the strange… whatever that was you took a while to take notice of the bathtubs. When you did, though you froze up immediately. There were people - no patients - in lying in the bathtubs, connected to the cables, which were attached to the back of their necks.

Like a statue you stood there for at least 20 seconds. Staring at one patient, you slowly went to him just to check his state. Curious to see if he was aware of his surroundings or if he was unconscious – maybe asleep . What was this system?

Could that reach possibilities to help several people out of mental illnesses or was this just a machine designed from a psychopath just for his own use?

And why would he need help from just a nurse like you?

You let out a sarcastic laugh, "Looking at this huge thing… I highly doubt that you don’t know how to check vital signs ", you shook your head and crossed your arms, taking several steps back, out of his direct reach. No way would you let him put you into one of these tubs!

You really wanted to run away and never go to the hospital again.

"So, tell me. What do you really want from me? Do you expect me to go into one of the bathtubs? Gotta tell you, that’s not gonna happen. I mean... not to sound judgmental. Because technically this could be something to help our patients. But I gotta tell you, this,“ You gestured towards the patient that was laying in the tub right in front of you, “looks quite suspicious and not very save. I hope the patients volunteered for this, because if they didn’t I have to report this. Don’t get me wrong, you seem to be quite intelligent and this looks interesting, but I cannot allow something like this to continue without - "

"- You are annoying. All I want you is to check the vitals of the patients and you are throwing a whole speech at me.", he shot back, not amused with your behavior.

"I am a scientist, not one of your doctors. What I am doing here could change the world forever. It is a system which helps people with heavy trauma to forge new memories and get rid of the trauma. Do you understand me?", the scientist continued to spit out. There was a look of passion in his eyes that you hadn’t seen before. They had looked quite dull and emotionless up to this point. It was clear to you that he truly cared about that project of his.

What you weren’t aware of was that the man had a plan. He'd snow you . Make you feel comfortable. And then, he'd put you in the bathtub too. The next one on his list would be Tatjana from the reception area. And then it was your turn.

What even was your name? He chanced a quick glance of your name tag, just enough to read "(Y/N)" on it.

"Listen to me, (Y/N). This is a top-secret project. If I find out you talked about it outside of this room, I will make sure you suffer great consequences. And trust me, I have my eyes and ears everywhere. Now go and check on the rest of these people before I get angry. Then, you may leave."

Author's Note:

I'm still unsure if I keep making this as a slow-burn whole Fanfiction or just cut the whole thing I'm planing into single parts like One-Shots

#Ruvik #Ruvik X Reader #Ruben Victoriano #Ruben Victoriano X Reader #The Evil Within #TEW X Reader

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crashingmeteorz · 4 years

Text

post-war ba sing se bimbo headcanons

so zuko becomes the firelord, and jin and jet think it’s hilarious. he’s so good at it. he’s so charismatic. they’re like “who the hell is this guy? when did he get mature and responsible???” and song’s like “when zuko wasn’t doing stupid shit, he was stopping you two from doing stupid shit, i saw this coming a mile away.”

jin joins the kyoshi warriors, and is overwhelmed by all the pretty girls she’s working with, but for the most part it becomes a sisterhood. she will forever and always have a severe crush on suki, however, and really, can you blame her? so when suki reciprocates, jin writes song a four-page essay about it.

anyway, when zuko asks the warriors to come to the capital, obviously jin’s there, too. jet and song show up almost immediately after jin does.

“what, you two are hanging out without us now?” song asks them accusatorily. “it’s not fair that only you get to see jin, zuko.”

“yeah,” jet says. “and i used to see zuko shirtless a few times a week. and i thought i was lucky! now jin’s a kyoshi warrior and she gets to see it every day?”

“she does not!” says zuko. “yeah,” says jin, while shaking her head the opposite.

attempts on zuko’s life are about as common as rain showers, so song starts testing basically everything he eats with some of her chemicals. every time she finds something insidious, she tracks down every link in the chain that got the food to him, and finds a way to rectify the situation. she doesn’t trouble zuko with this, because he’s got enough going on. also, he probably maybe wouldn’t approve of her methods.

(song is not inherently violent, but when it comes to her family, she’s downright vicious).

jet wants to get in on the action, but between song’s disarming sweetness and the kyoshi warrior’s intimidation, zuko’s basically protected. what he isn’t, is good with people.

zuko can make grand dramatic speeches all day long, but when it comes to the council, or local government officials, or merchants, or literally even jet, he’s the same awkward kid jet met on the boat to ba sing se.

“you are never going to make it as firelord.” jet tells him from the couch he’s lounging on while he watches zuko practice a very basic interaction in the mirror.

“okay, fuck you, too.” zuko says miserably.

“sorry, i wasn’t clear,” jet says, standing beside zuko. “you are never going to make it as firelord without me.”

jet tries in vain to get zuko to lie better, to present himself differently, to deceive just a little bit, but it just isn’t happening. zuko doesn’t even want to lie, he doesn’t want to be like his father and azula, so they take a different approach.

instead, jet teaches him how to spot liars, and how to play the game. it’s basic stuff, like let silence linger because they’ll want to fill it if they’re afraid you don’t believe them. ask them bizarre questions so they overcorrect. if they’re complimenting you too much, they’re trying to deceive you.

to jet, it’s survival. to zuko, it’s like a whole world has opened up he never knew about. he hangs on to jet’s every word, and at the end, he asks that jet join him in council meetings, naming him an ambassador from the earth kingdom.

this is how jet discovers that he’s AMAZING at politics. he can’t believe how easy it is. he considers taking it up as a hobby when he gets back to the earth kingdom.

“you can’t do politics as a hobby,” zuko says.

“why not?” jet says. “it’s just fun. it’s not what i’m meant to be doing forever though.”

“do you have a mysterious job back in the earth kingdom none of us know about?” asks jin.

“yes,” says song, irritable from today’s batch of poison discoveries, “he’s working full-time as a little bitch.”

the more meetings jet attends, the more he wonders if politics really is for what he’s meant. arguing and debating delights him and, unlike the exhausted zuko, he leaves the debates feeling energized. but it just feels so bureaucratic, so useless compared to what he did during the war.

he’s so torn about it that he finally asks song for advice.

“i don’t know anything about politics,” she says tiredly. he’s playing idly with her hair after she’s had a long day of Keeping Zuko Alive. “why are you asking me?”

“because you don’t hold back,” jet tells her. “because you let me know when i’ve gone too far.”

song’s glad it’s dark in the lounge, because she can’t believe she’s blushing.

“well,” she says finally. “what would you be in it for?”

“what do you mean?” he says. “i just like it.”

“do you like the attention?” song asks. “are you just interested in the drama of it all? or do you want to make a difference?”

“i want to make a difference,” he says confidently. “i want to help the earth kingdom.”

“well, then, there’s your answer,” song says.

“yeah,” jet agrees. “no politics for me.”

“wait, what?” song asks him, because how did he reach that conclusion?

“it’s just smooth talking and paperwork. it’s not gonna help the earth kingdom,” jet tells her. “i’m not selling out.”

“is that what you think zuko’s doing?” she asks.

“of course not,” jet says, rolling his eyes. “but he’s also the firelord. that’s different.”

“and he’s your best friend,” she reminds him. “and you also happen to be on good terms with the avatar and the leaders of the southern water tribe, so you know you have influential people who will hear you out. if you want to make a difference, this is probably the best way.”

he’s quiet for a while. he almost looks disappointed.

“not every battle is on the battlefield, jet,” song says gently. “it’s not as glamorous, or as dangerous. it’s tedious and difficult and boring. but it’s what’s left, after the war.”

“i guess that’s the thing,” jet says sadly. “i don’t know who i am without the war.”

“i do,” song says with so much sincerity jet almost blushes. almost. he’s still, like, cool.

if they fall into a routine where song fixes his hair into something presentable for council meetings and jet forces her to take a break and enjoy the sunshine once in a while, zuko and jin don’t feel it’s necessary to comment.

for like three days.

“you stole my boyfriend,” zuko accuses song after catching her and jet kissing. the fact that sokka’s napping with his head in zuko’s lap as he says so doesn’t seem to faze him.

“you stole my ostrich horse,” she says, for the last time ever, “so now we’re even.”

“what’s with you and guys with weird facial hair?” jin asks as she stuffs her face with fire flakes, her new favorite treat. “first haru and now jet?”

“haru?” jet squeaks.

“i liked haru’s moustache,” song says thoughtfully. “i thought it made him look mature.”

“at least if jet grew a moustache i’d understand what everyone sees in him,” sokka says sleepily. “no offense.”

“you’re just mad i kissed zuko first,” huffs jet.

jet stops shaving that week. everyone notices.

when song and jet finally prepare to go back to the earth kingdom, jet privately asks zuko if it’s true that he and aang are considering founding a city that unites the nations. zuko tells him it is.

“well, i want in. whenever that is,” he says, and jet and zuko hug.

song and her mother open up a hospital and sanctuary that specifically caters to displaced families. jet reunites with longshot and smellerbee, and they drift around but tend to come back to the sanctuary. they often go out on missions to try and reunite families. it’s not quite fighting, and it’s not quite peace, so it’s a good transition for jet and his freedom fighters.

eventually, things slow down and so does jet. he starts walking around the village they’re located in without his weapons. a child asks song where she got the scars on her leg, and when she explains it was a firebender, the child says “oh, did he get in trouble?” song laughs and laughs, because for the first time in years, there are children who don’t know war.

jin doesn’t stay as a kyoshi warrior forever, but she does decide to settle down on kyoshi. she never really wanted the dangerous life, she just wanted some adventure and sort of stumbled into the chaos of jet and song and zuko. the quiet island is perfect for her. she still stirs up trouble once in a while though.

“COME GET YOUR IDIOT SHE TRIED TO RIDE THE UNAGI.” suki writes in two identical letters, one to jet and song and one to zuko.

“okay, whatever suki tells you, i want you to know she’s lying. i DID ride the unagi and it was SICK. sokka was here recently and said someone invented an image-capture thing is that true? because if it is i want you to bring one and come here ASAP so i can do it AGAIN.” says the fervent letter from jin that arrived three days after suki’s.

jet and song arrive promptly, song laden with medical supplies and a sternly-worded letter from her mother to jin. jet brings a camera.

zuko shows up a few days later with the latest in camera technology and a photographer, as well as his one-year-old daughter. he goes all-out because this is his and izumi’s first trip together. jet grumbles about being one-upped.

“you’re the firelord, you’re gonna encourage this?” song asks him, eyes furious but voice sweet as she plays with izumi. “excuse me, song, but the war is over, i have no jurisdiction here. if an earth kingdom citizen wants to exercise her right to be a dumbass she’s more than welcome to,” says zuko in his most diplomatic voice.

“and,” he adds more gently, “i missed you guys.” song still thinks he’s being ridiculous, but she gives him a big hug anyway.

zuko has to firebend at the unagi to stop it from eating jin and song is left to mend jin’s broken arm. jet takes pictures throughout the entire thing, from her climbing onto the creature, to getting thrown, to being bandaged up and laughs the whole time. song produces a second letter written by her mother which she was instructed only to give to jin in the event she rode the unagi.

all it says in neat hand-writing is, “i told you so. now come home so i can feed you, you ridiculous child.”

“i’m 24,” pouts jin, but since she’s the youngest, the group agrees heartily with song’s mother.

the five of them go to the sanctuary, where iroh is drinking tea with song’s mother and trading stories about their new respective lives.

zuko has to return to the capital in three days, iroh’s got his tea shop to run, and jin isn’t planning on staying long because her “super hot girlfriend is doing something extremely sexy” and she has to get back soon.

“jin, please, just talk normal for once in your life,” zuko begs her, bouncing izumi on his lap. “fine,” she says, “she’s being voted in as the leader of the island and i want to be there for the ceremony.”

jet realizes it’s not often he’ll have all the people he loves in one place, and quietly asks song something important.

they get married the night before zuko and jin leave, in front of jet’s freedom fighters and song’s mother and iroh. jin and zuko stand as their maid of honor and best man. zuko cries.

for the first time in almost two decades, all of them start to feel at peace.

ty so much for this au @azenkii writing about it is one of the most enjoyable experiences haha. is this update softer than usual? yes, of course, it’s what they deserve.

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 masterpost

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rhysismydaddy · 4 years

Text

After Midnight Pt. 2 (Feysand)

This part is completely in Rhysand’s POV, which was kind of challenging because I don’t really like writing ~sexy stuff~ while attempting to think about what the hell men are thinking about. HA.

Part 1

_________________________________________________________

~Rhysand~

All week long, Feyre--the client--keeps creeping in my head, making it damn near impossible for me to focus on anything at work.

Her full bottom lip, the taste of her skin, the soft little moan she doesn’t believe is sexy.

It’s not all depraved, male thoughts, though. I wouldn’t worry so much if it was, because that would just be lust, and lust is easy to fix.

But I also think about her smile, her bright blue eyes.

I think about the panic that came over her and what might have happened to her to cause such a deep-rooted reaction like that.

I know it’s none of my business, but I want to know what happened to her. I want to help her be more confident, help her with her intimacy problems.

Shoving what’s probably just my savior complex down, I tell myself her problems don’t concern me.

She’s a paycheck.

A beautiful, intriguing paycheck that I can’t stop thinking about.

Fuck.

I don’t have time to change after working at the bar, so I head to the hotel in dark slacks and a white t-shirt. You can see my tattoos, but it isn’t too trashy, so I don’t think she’ll mind.

Some clients are extremely particular about what I wear.

Sometimes so particular I end up getting a new suit out of the arrangement.

Feyre doesn’t seem like the type, but I doubt she’ll hesitate me to tell me if she wants me to look a little more professional. The thought makes me smile.

Do not tell me what to do. Ever.

I love how angry she got, how she didn’t hesitate to tell me off when I started acting like a prick. Little hellion.

Even if I was tempted to do exactly what she told me not to. Because gods above, the urge to tell her to do something with that beautiful mouth besides yell at me was fucking overwhelming.

I’m going straight to hell.

Clenching my jaw, I attempt to not think anything perverted as I walk into the hotel bar and spot Feyre sipping a drink.

But I could clench that shit hard enough to break my teeth, and it still wouldn’t keep me from noticing the way her hair catches the light, the way her black tank top dips in the front to show off the smooth skin of her chest.

I’m a fucking professional, I scold myself as I march over. And it’s just a collarbone, for gods sake.

“Hello, Feyre,” I murmur, sliding into the stool next to her.

Cloudy sky eyes look over at me, and I could swear they drift over my outfit appreciatively, lingering on my tattoos. “Rhysand.”

Something about hearing my full name makes this feel extremely impersonal, so I say, “You can just call me Rhys.”

“Oh, okay.” She shrugs and pushes her empty glass away.

“Do you want to get another drink, or are we going upstairs?”

It’s fucked up how happy I get when she says the latter.

I need to stop thinking about her as a woman and start thinking about her like a wealthy client I need to please.

Except that pleasing her sounds like too good of an idea as I follow behind her, my eyes watching her ass.

Client or not, she has a really great ass.

Once we’re standing across from each other in the elevator, I deny myself further thoughts of her backside and ask, “How was your week?”

We’ve agreed to only meet Fridays at the same hotel room, so it’s a casual enough question.

“It was alright. I work at the art museum on fifth street, and we have an event coming up soon, so I’m planning it.”

I nod, finding it easy to picture her in a museum, talking passionately about some old, overpriced piece of art. “I didn’t know being a curator was such a well-paying job.”

“Oh, it’s not.” There’s a brief flash of sadness in her beautiful eyes as she says, “I used to be an artist.”

“But you’re not anymore?”

Obviously, you idiot. She just said that.

Feyre shakes her head, looking relieved as the elevator door bings open. We walk down the hall in silence, and then we’re in the room.

“Anything specific you want to do tonight?” I ask, leaning against the wall and watching as she throws her bag on the bed.

It’s a pretty standard question, but it seems to make her nervous. She starts pacing, then looks down and frowns at herself and stops. “Oh, um... well...”

It suddenly dawns on me that she has no idea, because she doesn’t know her boundaries anymore. The realization makes me both sad and pissed at whoever hurt her.

“We could just make out,” I offer, shrugging to let her know it’s up to her. “See where it goes.”

She bites her lip and flushes, looking so adorably embarrassed I grin. Apparently not able to say the words, she just nods.

I don’t want to scare her, so I avoid the bed and head to one of the cushy, wide chairs near the window. Her eyebrows go up a little, but she follows me over, then sits gingerly on my knee.

She’s literally in my lap, yet I can’t even kiss her she’s so far away.

“Feyre.”

“Yes?”

“Is this not okay?”

She shakes her head. “This is good.”

I grab her hips and drag her toward my chest, muttering, “Then come here, woman.”

She laughs, the sound light and surprised. “Sorry. This is just... isn’t this weird for you? I feel like I’m a terrible person for making you do this.”

Is she serious? Making me kiss her?

“You’re not forcing me to do anything, and you’re not a bad person for wanting to enjoy yourself. We’re just... exchanging goods.”

Her mouth drops open, and I laugh.

“Bad way to phrase that,” I admit, still grinning. “But no, it isn’t weird. You’re a beautiful woman, and I was being serious when I told you I could kiss you all night.”

To keep her from arguing, I lean up and press my lips against hers. Her breath hitches, so I kiss her again, just a faint touch of my lips against hers.

Feyre’s sitting on me sideways, but when I wrap my arms around her, she leans into my chest. And then she starts kissing me back.

Her arms go around my shoulders, hands in my hair, and the position makes her breasts press against my chest. It’s a new, torturous distraction, made sweeter by the fact that I know she isn’t even doing it on purpose.

Everything about her is naturally sexy. She doesn’t have to try, and I can tell she’s just enjoying herself, not trying to put on a show.

One of my hands is on her back, the other is on her thigh, sliding up until the smooth curve of her hip fills my palm. I'm in the process of squeezing her closer when she pulls back abruptly.

I track her face for any sight of panic, but she’s completely calm as she shifts to straddle my waist, knees on the chair at either side of my hips.

Almost automatically, my hands fall to her backside and drag her forward until we’re flush together. Feyre gasps, and then her mouth is moving against mine in a more frantic pace.

I love knowing I’m getting to her like she is to me. I love the fact that she’s breathing heavily as I move to kiss my way down her throat. I love the little sound she makes when I suck on the place between her shoulder and neck.

I love that she can’t stay still, even if the little movements of her hips are slowly driving me insane.

Her hands tug on my hair, tilting my head back, and then she’s leaning away slightly. And blushing.

Which means she wants something else.

I raise an eyebrow.

“Would you mind taking your shirt off?”

My stupid lips won’t stop twitching at how polite she is. The urge to tease her about it rises, but I ignore it and drag my shirt over my head, then throw it on the floor behind her.

Watching her attempt to not look down is probably one of the best moments of my entire life.

Her eyes flit from mine to my chest, then to my abs, then back to my face.

I’ve grown used to women treating my like an object, and it’s adorable to watch her try to be so respectful.

“Pervert,” I tease when her eyes dip once again.

Feyre laughs softly, even as her fingertips start to glide over my skin, causing my muscles to go tight. She traces the lines of my tattoos across my chest, following them down my arms.

On a seduction scale of one to ten, it’s about a three.

And yet, my body reacts without question, heat flooding into my crotch like lightening.

Her gaze snaps up to mine and I offer an apologetic smile. Eyes wide, she practically jumps backward off my lap, standing in front of me and looking anywhere except my face.

And to be honest, I’m a little confused.

I was pretty sure my job description included having sex or some kind, and since she hired me, I’d figured that would come around sooner or later. So why is she so surprised I get an erection?

Especially when she puts that cute behind in my lap and kisses me stupid and puts her hands all over me?

Before I can ask, she says, “I’m going to take a shower.”

Out of everything I expected her to say, that didn’t make the list, but I still reply, “Okay.”

Only she doesn’t take a single step towards the bathroom. And after another long moment of silence, she murmurs, “I would like if you joined.”

Oh.

That I understand.

Smiling like a complete jackass, I nod and get up, following her to the posh bathroom. She reaches in and turns the shower on, then turns to me and shocks me yet again. “Turn around, please.”

“I thought I was joining you.”

“You are.”

I run a hand through my hair, trying not to laugh again. “Well unless we’re showing in our clothes, I’m going to see you naked at some point.”

“I’m aware of that,” she says sourly, hands on her hips. “But I can’t undress with you watching.”

Sighing, I turn around, not pointing out that the massive mirror next to us makes this entire request pointless. But I want to make her feel comfortable, so I close my eyes for safe measure. The sound of rustling fabric fills the silence, then the shower door opens and she says, “You can, um, turn around now.”

I do, then immediately regret it.

Because if Feyre in her clothes was alluring and sexy and beautiful, Feyre naked is downright sinful. I mutter a curse and she raises and eyebrow, but I’m too busy thinking about anything except what’s in front of me to care.

Which is pretty impossible, considering the sight of her tilting her head back and allowing water to run down her body is something no man could ever ignore.

I watch the water track all the way down to her toes, then slowly force my eyes back up.

Remembering I’m here for a job and am getting paid and that I should not be enjoying this, I quickly undress and step into the shower.

Standing close enough our breath mixes, we just stare at each other for another moment. And it’s just when I’m sure she’s about to tell me what she wants that she finally speaks.

“I don’t think I can have sex with you,” she whispers, shooting my happiness straight in the face.

She sure as shit seemed like she could a minute ago. Is seeing me naked changing that or something?

“Oh,” I say, looking down at myself in confusion. “That’s... embarrassing.”

“Oh gods! I didn’t mean it like that! This is so embarrassing. You’re.... I obviously find you attractive enough.” I look back up, and she has both hands over her face. “I mean that I can’t have sex with you tonight. I’m kind of freaking out a little, and I don’t particularly want to have another panic attack.”

Pride and manhood back in order, I reach out and gently pry her hands off her face. “It’s okay. I get it. You’re in charge, remember? Anything you want, nothing you don’t.”

She looks down at the part of my body that is most definitely ready for some action, then back up. “I’m sorry.”

Yeah, this’ll definitely suck, but it isn’t her fault. “So you just want to shower and stare at each other, then?”

Instead of answering, she kisses me. Apparently not.

Smiling against her, I pull her closer, causing our chests to collide in a slippery, intoxicating way.

Feyre eventually answers the question of what she wants when her hand takes mine and slides it down her stomach, then further.

“Will you-”

She cuts herself off as I make circles with my thumb slowly, sucking on her bottom lip at the same time. “Yes,” I murmur back.

And because I have the feeling this is all we’ll do tonight, I’m determined to make it enough. More than enough.

I nudge her feet further apart with mine and kiss her deeply as I slide a finger down her center, then push it inside, making sure to keep my thumb moving slowly.

She moans, and I have to close my mouth to keep myself from mimicking the sound because holy hell she’s...

If she feels this good against my hand, I almost don’t want to know how she’ll feel against other parts of me. The fact that sex with her is even a potential possibility tells me I’m the luckiest bastard in the world.

Her head falls forward against my chest, but I slide a hand in her damp hair and tilt it back far enough to allow access to her throat.

I don’t move lower, even though I’m dying to, because I want everything we do to be her idea.

“Rhys,” she groans, hips following the rhythm set by my hand.

She’s a client, she’s a client, she’s a client.

My name falls off her lips again, and it’s the sweetest sound I’ve ever heard, so I move back to her mouth and attempt to eat it.

Her hands once again explore my shoulders and chest and abs, and I’m not sure which of us she’s trying to get off because I’m fucking addicted to her touch.

I pull on her lower lip with my teeth as I add another finger, and she makes a helpless little sound that does my sanity absolutely no favors.

All I can think about is how I want to drive her crazy. I want her to fall apart in my arms. I want to make her feel so good she goes weak in the knees.

I slow my rhythm down until she whimpers, hips moving restlessly, then flick my thumb over where it’d been busy drawing circles and push it down roughly.

Knowing it’ll be enough, I open my eyes to watch as she comes. And it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen, hands down.

Her cheeks flush, eyes press shut, and lips open to let out a low moan that goes straight to my dick. Her entire body is tight, then she goes loose in my arms, leaning heavily against me.

Bright blue eyes peer up at me and watch as I bring my hand up and pull a finger into my mouth. I can’t help it, really.

And I definitely don’t regret it, because the taste of her on my tongue is enough to make my blood thrum.

I release it with a pop, then smirk down at her flushed face.

“Um, thank you.”

Unable to keep my hands to myself, I sweep her hair back and smile. “It was my pleasure, really.”

She rolls her eyes, then catches sight of what’s between us. “Are you going to be okay?”

Unless you count the fact that my balls will hurt like hell for a few hours. “I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?” She reaches out a hand. “I can-”

Pushing her hand away gently, I tell her, “I don’t want you to touch me. Unless you want to.”

The last fucking thing I want to do is make her feel pressured to do something she doesn’t want to. I have a feeling that’s the reason she has “problems with intimacy” like she said.

Feyre takes a step back, ignoring the shower spray directly in the back of her head. There’s a strange look on her face. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was... embarrassed. “You don’t want me to touch you?”

Ah, fuck.

“No. I mean, yes. I mean-” I take a deep breath and tell myself how much of an idiot I am. “I didn’t mean it like that. I definitely don’t mind you touching me. I just don’t want you to feel pressured into anything.”

She raises a brow, so I keep going. “I mean, you said you have problems with intimacy. I’m here to help, not make them worse by demanding you jerk me off in the shower.”

I have a way with words, honestly.

Slapping a hand on my forehead, I mutter, “None of this is coming out right.”

But Feyre ignores that and laughs. Really laughs, for the first time. It’s a full, loud laugh that makes me chuckle, too. Her laugh’s the best thing I’ve ever heard, even if it is at my expense.

“I believe you,” she finally says when she stops giggling. “Thank you. You’re a good person.”

I roll my eyes because that’s the last thing I am. “We should probably get out of the shower.”

She nods and cuts the water off, reaching to grab us towels. Once we’ve dried off, we both start pulling our clothes on.

Normally, I rush through this part. Clients are usually either awkward or much too affectionate towards the end, and it’s a miracle to get out the door.

But with Feyre, I find myself taking my time as I pull my jeans and shirt back on. And I find myself watching as she does the same.

“I want to talk to you about next week.”

Something about her voice makes me a little nervous, but I still say, “Shoot.”

“My therapist suggested that I try ‘normal things’ to ease back into intimacy. Hence the shower. Before tonight, I hadn’t seen a man naked in over a year.”

“Okay...”

I have no idea where she’s going with this.

“I would like to ask you to stay the night next week,” she says quickly, like the words themselves make her nervous.

“What do you mean?”

She honestly looks like she might pass out as she murmurs, “I’d like you to.... sleep here. It won’t be sexual, but I am willing to pay you more if you want.”

My mind starts running a bit wild with that. She wants me to stay the entire night--something I never, ever do--but doesn’t want sex out of it? Why would that be something that makes her this nervous?

“You just want to sleep in the same bed?”

There’s a pause where I swear she’s going to say no. “Yes.”

I think back to what she told me a week ago. I have problems trusting men.

It makes sense, I guess. She trusts me enough this’ll be a challenge, something that pushes her boundaries enough to get her to open up.

“Okay,” I agree eventually.

“Really?”

“I’ll bring my jammies,” I joke, relieved when she cracks a small smile.

I know why she’s nervous, but I have no clue as to why I suddenly feel like next Friday is the biggest night of my life.

Pushing those feelings away, I finish getting dressed, kiss her on the cheek, and head for the door.

Turning back, I smile and say, “I’ll see you Friday for our slumber party.”

I’m sure it’ll be a night to remember, one way or another.

___________________________________________________________

Part 3

@trinitybailey2003 @zukos-simp @cursebreaker29 @sjmships @starrynightsbooks @lovemollywho @januarystears @perseusannabeth @bamchickawowow @a-bit-of-a-cactus @elriel4life @girl-who-reads-the-books @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @rowanisahunk @superspiritfestival @studyliketate @over300books @justgiu12 @maastrash @aesthetics-11 @b00kworm @sleeping-and-books @musicmaam @hizqueen4life @maybekindasortaace

#feysand #feyre #feyre archeron #rhysand #rhys #feyre x rhysand #feyre x fhys #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acowar #acomaf #acofas #a court of mist and fury #a court of thorns and roses #a court of wings and ruin #a court of frost and starlight

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thotsforvillainrights · 3 years

Note

It's 4 in the morning and I have still not slept buuuuuut I've been binge reading your stuff for the Shie Hassaikai boys and I'd like to see your take on Overhaul with a yandere s/o

up to you how it's written if you decide to take my request

Checked the masterlist but I couldn’t find it but I KNEW I wrote this before a while back soooooo I searched the tags and AHA, I found it! I tried to screenshot some of it too:

Anyway, I couldn’t link it because either Tumblr desktop is weird or my phone is weird so here I am. I’ll just copy and paste everything I wrote down below:

~Kai’s Yandere S/O~

headcanon|scenario|imagine|match-up

-This is a little bit of a different experience for him at first. He might be a little put off from it if you’re the first one to make all the moves. He probably doesn’t want to be smothered 24/7 by your obsessed ass but when you let him take the reigns, it takes on a whole new meaning/feeling for him.

-In the first case of it, he would probably feel overwhelmed and grossed out. Honestly he’d feel downright aggravated. Imagine trying to work or live your life when someone is fallowing you around while assuming you don’t notice them. Or when your stuff comes up missing one by one. Or maybe when you keep getting a bunch of love notes everywhere. You’re annoying as hell to him in this case. Essentially the relationship is a yandere and a tsundere…do that math lol.

-But let’s say that he’s noticed you first and decided to pursue you as a romantic partner instead. In the second case of it, things might go over a little better. He likes you around and he doesn’t have to worry about you thinking of others when all your attention and affections are trained on him. He thinks of you as ‘his’ and no one else. He’s actually the first one to threaten killing anyone that tries to get between you whether than the other way around. It starts to seem like he’s more of a yandere than you are!

-Things could turn toxic VERY quickly if you were the type of yandere that ‘loves him so much that you can’t take it, and you want to kill him’ yknow? He’s of course not going to let this happen. His guard gets up and he ends up being the one to lock you away and give you a stern type of treatment. If you behave yourself then maybe you’ll get to spend some time with you. He doesn’t want to treat you like a prisoner, but he also values his life. So you had better try your best to push those ‘murder my lover’ feelings to the back of your mind.

-Both of you end up having jealousy that is off the damn charts. It’s almost ALWAYS deadly and results in the third party getting threatened, maimed, or killed in the process.

Instagram: @pastelbattydraws & @pastelbattystore

YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCRNMJH7vHL7APNobUykhK4w?view_as=subscriber

#bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #repost #chisaki kai

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seriouslyhooked · 3 years

Text

I’ll Stay (Vulnerable)

Cannon divergent oneshot based in 3A when everyone is back from Neverland. CS-centric, and involves Emma coming to grips with her feelings for Hook much earlier. Available on FF Here and AO3 Here.

A/N: Hey everyone! In this chapter, we are taking things back to season 3 and we are rewriting it. I know, I know, you’re all shocked. Me – a devoted follower of fluff and hope – is going to rewrite a storyline where Emma and Henry left everyone behind and forgot them? Yup. Absolutely. Would write this fic a hundred times in a hundred different ways if I could. In this divergent little drabble, we made it through Neverland and got rid of Pan without any more curses or nonsense. Everyone knows what could have happened, but they avoided it, and now Emma is grappling with the fact that something more than a ‘one-time thing’ is happening between her and Hook. Inspired by the song ‘Vulnerable’ by Selena Gomez.

The irony was not lost on Emma that sleep was eluding her.

After what felt like an eternity fighting to get Henry back from the clutches of Pan and from the brink of danger, they were finally home. They’d staved off another curse, circumvented another terrible twist that would have ripped them all apart once more, and, most importantly, her kid was safe, sleeping in his bed and on the road to healing from this terrible adventure.

Over the past week, Emma had barely closed her eyes. Leading them through Neverland and navigating the wickedness of Gold and his father was a constant struggle. The physical toil and the emotional pain had been profound. She was exhausted and weary, but still, sleep would not come.

Here in the loft, the air was quiet, and the mood was peaceful. The moonlight trickled through the glass pane of her window, and the curtains caught in the breeze filtering in from outside. The temperature was perfect, cool and refreshing, but warm under the covers. The bad guys had been beaten, Storybrooke was safe, and the calm seemed stable, at least enough to last through the night. But it didn’t matter. Despite her best efforts, Emma could not sleep. She’d tried everything, but none of it would work.

It’s never going to work, she said to herself dejectedly. Not until you face this.

“Yeah, that’s not happening,” she muttered aloud, shutting down the part of her that wanted to work things out instead of always avoiding.

She heaved out a sigh of defeat and tossed the rumpled sheets off of her. Climbing out of bed and tiptoeing to the kitchen, Emma made sure to avoid all the noisiest parts of this apartment. She didn’t want to disturb Henry or her parents, but she couldn’t handle being cooped up in that bed. It was getting her nowhere. In fact, it was making things worse. Lying there in the dark, she was bombarded by memories and what ifs. It all was overwhelming, and enough to drive her mad.

Wordlessly she moved to the kitchen and found herself reaching for the ingredients needed for a calming cup of cocoa. Despite the lateness of the hour, she knew it would be a small token of comfort in a long, unrelenting night. The motions of preparing the sweat treat were soothing. This was a ritual she had grown accustomed to, and was mindless enough to lose herself in. But this late-night activity, which usually saw her through the worst of days, didn’t yield the desired effect. Her thoughts still wandered, circling back to a particular pirate who perplexed and provoked her.

I don’t understand his motives, she said to herself, knowing this was her cynicism taking the lead. Why is he still helping? Why take the risk? What is he after?

Why does he have to be ‘after’ anything? The reasonable part of her brain replied. Why can’t you just accept that he cares about you?

Because it can’t happen.

It already has. The kiss, in Neverland…

It was a one-time thing.

It doesn’t have to be.

It does.

It doesn’t.

It does.

You’re scared.

Of course, I’m scared! He’s Captain freaking Hook!

He’s just Killian.

“He’s not just anything,” Emma murmured as she mixed in the chocolate, watching the warmed milk turn to a rich, silky chestnut color. Here was the kernel of truth she was terrified to admit. To Emma, Hook wasn’t just a villain or a pirate. He was more, intricate and messy and moving and intriguing.

During their time in Neverland, Hook had awakened something in her. It started with the kiss, that sinful encounter that drove her to distraction, but also struck her heart, piercing armor she had been building up for years. Okay, maybe it started before that. There were plenty of heated glances, and barbed bits of repartee between them that almost felt like foreplay, but the kiss lit a fuse she didn’t realize existed. It was meant to be a power move, a strategic plan to shut him up, maybe the vent some of her frustrations out, but the consequences lingered, and they were ones that Emma never saw coming.

She could still taste him even now, the ghost of that embrace tracing touches on her skin. Pressed up against him, the roughness of leather and metal, the scrape of his beard, the taut lines of his body… She’d given into him in that moment and lingered in the pleasure. When they kissed, Emma allowed herself a minute just to feel and to live. For a fleeting blip of time, the world wasn’t crumbling around her. She was restored and she was hopeful, but it had to be just once. She wasn’t meant to want any more than that. She certainly shouldn’t still be thinking of it now, but here she was. And she was thinking of more too, thinking of the ways he’d risked himself, the ways he’d supported her, the way he’d saved her father. She acknowledged in the silence of her self-dialogue that she had grown to count on him, and that she felt drawn to him, even when his obvious role had come to an end. She should have been eager for him to go, now that the task of defeating Pan was over, but the thought of him leaving left an aching, empty feeling in her chest.

Over the past few days, Hook had luckily shown no real signs of setting outward. He was still sarcastic and cocky and cutting. He was practically gleeful every time he got to torment David, and his actions towards Neal and towards Gold were downright frosty still, but there was honor underneath it all and a respect he gave the others and this town that spoke to a more gentlemanlike nature. She had seen him when they located Henry, and observed a genuine relief when she was reunited with her son. She noticed the way he minded the others, helping far more than he hurt, and how he bit back the bullshit bad guy act when they just couldn’t take it. He could read a room, and he often did, though he hid behind the swagger and the accent. And more than once there was something that colored his gaze, swimming in the blue depths of his eyes. When he looked at her, he hid nothing, and let the weight of his affection flow between them. He may not say the words aloud, but he laid it all out there, showing a vulnerability she never imagined but desperately craved. He wanted her, and Emma… well Emma wanted -

“Couldn’t sleep?”

Emma jumped, her hand moving towards her chest and making contact with the speedy pacing of her heartbeat. Adrenaline spiked in her system, but she immediately relaxed when she saw it was only Mary Margaret. Emma worried for a moment that the conversations playing in her head may have been whispered out loud, but her mother (God that was still so weird to say), showed no awareness. Seeing as Mary Margaret was incapable of keeping secrets, Emma knew her own were safe. At least for now.

“No. You?”

“I wish,” Her mother said, reaching into the cupboard and coming out with cinnamon, bringing a small smile to Emma’s lips. “I never can after these escapades. But your father? Out like a light the moment the bad things pass. It’s almost like it never happened.”

“Lucky guy,” Emma joked, and her mother chuckled, a thoughtful expression coloring her face.

“We are all lucky tonight. It was almost so much worse.” Snow’s words had the lilt of unshed tears hanging on the end. Emma could see the mistiness in her mother’s eyes, and felt the weight of her worry. “We almost lost you again, Emma.”

“I know, but you didn’t,” Emma said, placing a hand on her mother’s shoulder. Snow placed her own hand over it and took a deep breath, nodding. She wiped two stray tears away quickly but collected herself.

“Everything that’s happened… well it’s put things in perspective for me.”

“Like what?”

“I was wrong, Emma. In Neverland, when I practically interrogated you about Hook.”

To say that this was unexpected was an understatement. Emma was shocked at the acknowledgement, even though she appreciated the words.

“It’s fine.”

“It isn’t,” her mother emphasized, and Emma stayed quiet. Snow was right after all. It wasn’t great. It had caused more pain in a series of painful events, but Emma planned to just move past it and leave the discomfort behind them. “I didn’t understand what you had been through. Even worse I jumped to my own conclusions. I was pushing you towards Neal, thinking Hook was the bad guy, but in the end, looking at the full picture, that’s not really the story, is it?”

“No, it isn’t,” Emma agreed. “Honestly, I can’t really follow the story anymore. I feel…”

“Lost?” her mother asked. Emma nodded.

“Yeah. Crazy right? We leave Neverland, and somehow I’m more lost back home than I was there.”

“Maybe,” her mother mused, as Emma poured two glasses of cocoa. She handed them to Snow for added cinnamon, but she was curious as to her mother’s hesitation.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, are you really lost, Emma? Or are you scared of facing what it is that you want?”

The words were a swift punch to the gut, but Emma sustained them, taking a sip of her cocoa and braving up to respond honestly. “The second one. But it’s insane. How is it possible? A few weeks ago, I’d never even met this man. He’s a pirate – a villain from a story that I read as a kid. Things are moving so quickly, and yet their standing still. I don’t know what to do.”

“Do you trust him?”

“As much as I trust anyone,” she admitted, the truth coming out for the first time since meeting him.

“Do you care for him?”

Emma nodded, not daring to say that part just yet. Her mother’s eyes softened, a look of love despite the strangeness of this suitor.

“Does it have potential?”

“I don’t know,” Emma whispered, but the feeling in her chest that had been there for a while now was blooming something fierce. This may not be her gut, per se, but it was something adjacent, an instinct and an emotion screaming out that there was more than meets the eye here. This was different. This was special.

“If you think about the future, is he there?”

“I think I want him to be,” Emma said, knowing there wasn’t much thinking to be done. That was what she wanted, and now, she’d finally confessed it.

“Then you have your answer. It’s just a matter of facing it and doing what you need to do.”

Her mother’s observation hung between them and Emma realized Snow had immediate expectations. “You mean now? But it’s late.”

“So? He’s a pirate. I don’t know much about them, but I’ll hazard a guess that they don’t keep normal hours.”

“This is crazy.”

“Affairs of the heart usually are, Emma. You’ll recall I once bashed your father in the head with a rock, and yet the thought of going one more day without him by my side…” Emma’s pulse skipped a beat at the mention of her heart. Another sign that deep down she had known for quite a while what she wanted. “You’ll never sleep until it’s settled, honey. Believe me, I know. You take after your mother, just as I took after mine.”

Emma didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry at her mother’s joke, but she found herself hugging Snow close and thanking her. From there, things got a bit hazy. She was working off of adrenaline, moving to her room and changing out of her pajamas before heading into the Storybrooke night. It was just after midnight, not tremendously late, but by small town standards it was as quiet as quiet could get. Everything was closed now, the diner, the inn. Even the bar was locked up tight, and that was as late-night as Storybrooke ever got. There was no one around, just Emma and the pounding of her heart. Still, she kept moving, following the advice of her mother and the sense of what-if that had nagged at her all evening.

Soon enough she was at the docks, following the lamp light, and headed in the direction of the Jolly Roger. It wouldn’t be difficult to spot, as the only Enchanted Forest vessel in the harbor, but still Emma worried. What if he’d left in the dark of the night? What if he believed her when she said this didn’t matter? What if she was too late?

When the ship came into view, she exhaled a sigh of relief, but it was quiet. The lights were out. There were no signs of movement anywhere. And then she heard it. Singing, feint at first, but louder as she approached the boat. The voice was deep, but ruggedly refined. She knew it was Hook, but she’d never actually considered what he’d sound like in a song. His voice was beautiful and a little haunting, the seafaring shanty being one of heartache and loss. It was somber and serene, but despite its content, it was also a little bit hopeful. At least to Emma. Because if Killian was up signing instead of sleeping in his quarters after all they’d faced in the past few weeks, maybe that meant he was thinking thoughts like the ones that she’d been plagued with.

On their voyage to and from Neverland, Emma came to know this ship intimately, and the wooden planks called out to her. They were familiar and welcoming, two things she never believed she would ever say. It would be so easy to come aboard and just announce herself. But instinctively she knew it wasn’t okay to board this ship without permission. Insecurities crept in at the realization. She was intruding. This wasn’t right.

This was stupid, she reasoned to herself. I should have waited until morning. I should have –

“Swan?”

The voice she most wanted to hear played strange tricks on her now, sending a shiver of anticipation through her system and a tiny bit of terror as well. She looked to the deck but didn’t see him, then she realized the voice had sounded out from a higher locale. Her eyes climbed the great mast of the Jolly and there he was, perched atop the crow’s nest. With a coordination and grace reserved for the movies, he swung down from the great height with a rope from above. The action only tensed the hard lines of his muscles even more, and Emma took each movement in, unable to look away.

Hook was still dressed in a way she was used to seeing, but now he was missing his jacket and his vest. His hair was tousled, and his beard a touch darker, or perhaps that was a trick of the moonlight. She’d never seen him like this before. He was somehow even sexier than usual, and it overwhelmed her. He descended from the ship at a hurried clip, moving towards her with purpose and precision. He closed the distance between them, until they were mere inches away from one another. When he was near enough, his eyes searched her whole being for signs of trouble, and his hand came out to reach for hers in a show of comfort. She extended hers in kind, and her body came alive at the contact. Her breathing caught as her eyes met his cerulean gaze, brimming with intensity and earnestness.

“Emma, love, are you all right? Is it Henry? Has something happened?”

The worry in his tone was evident, and the honesty she felt flowing off of him broke the last fragments of her will power. She couldn’t take it anymore. She was in this, and it was damn well time that she act like it.

She practically leapt into his arms, pulling him down by the v of his somewhat unbuttoned shirt and kissing him as she’d wanted to ever since walking away back in Neverland. The instant delight that came was heady and addictive, and this time Emma knew that she could savor it. There was nothing looming on the horizon – nothing poised to stop them or intrude on this big moment – and for the first time in a long time, Emma felt free. Free to feel and free to want something only for herself.

Hook needed only the briefest moment to respond. He practically purred out his approval, the growl he let loose buzzing through her and setting her ablaze. His expert use of hand and hook left her shaking. He pulled her even closer, closing the remaining space between them, and enveloping her in every part of him. Emma stopped knowing where she ended and he began. God, this was perfect. Easily the best kiss she’d ever had. How could anything possibly feel this good? His hard body had her squirming in his grasp, seeking any semblance of friction and relief. She’d been carrying desire for this man for too long, but compartmentalizing and hiding it away. Now it flowed freely, surrounding her, engulfing her, and leaving her breathless.

She wasn’t the only one trying to soak in every moment. Hook was just as ravenous, nipping and teasing her with touches designed to seduce and to entrance. He was hot and fierce and alluring, the scent of rum and salt and sea air clinging to him. It felt dangerous and daunting, but also natural and filled with need. Like magnets flung towards impact, two opposites attracting and finding something more. Many parts of this were familiar, but then it changed, sparked fire, and blazed to something past her comprehension.

With the benefit of privacy and time, Hook took control and guided the kiss. He was dominant and demanding in ways Emma never allowed another man to be. It set her soul on fire, and tilted the world into a whole new point of view. This heated embrace stole every shred of sanity Emma had left, but she wouldn’t trade it for anything. Neverland was about her making a statement, and tonight was as well. But Hook would have his say this time, and he showed her so much more through luscious actions than anyone ever had with words. This kiss was a revelation, a seduction any siren would be proud of, and here she was, caught within the storm but finding that she loved it all the same.

Coming up for air was a struggle, mostly because now that she had done this, Emma didn’t want to let go. But after the fervor of first contact, they both knew that they had to talk about this. For Emma, it was time to fess up, and to confess that the fear of taking a chance was overwhelming, but that the fear of losing a chance at this was even more jarring.

“It’s difficult for a man to determine if he’s dreaming when a woman as lovely as you appears like this, Swan.” Killian uttered the words as his fingers traced along her jaw. His hook held her hip in place, the cool metal a source of strange comfort. Emma nuzzled in closer, leaning against his palm and breathing him in as her eyes closed. “But in all my years I’ve never had a dream that compares to you. So it must be real. Please, Gods above, let it be real.”

“It’s real,” she whispered, pressing another soft kiss on his lips. “We’re real. I’ve been scared as hell to say that, but I…”

“I understand, love. It’s wholly unexpected. And I’m not exactly the kind of man a woman like you deserves.”

“Don’t say that,” she pleaded, and the pain in his eyes sent a sharp sting through her heart. Obviously he didn’t see himself the way she saw him. But maybe with time, things would be more clear.

“It’s the truth, Swan.”

“Do you trust me?”

“Aye.”

“Do you want me?” He nodded immediately, his hold on her tightening, whether or not he realized it. Her lips curved up to a small smile at that, and she not so secretly loved how sure and certain he was in this.

“Yes.”

“Would you ever hurt me?” she asked, her voice breaking slightly, and the pain of her past surging up in darkened memories.

“I might, love, but Gods strike me down if I do, because it’s the last thing in the world I’d ever want.”

“And that’s how I know,” she whispered. Looking at him with new conviction, willing him to believe her. “That’s the difference with you, Killian. I see you, I see your heart, and I know you see me. Not the savior, not the sheriff, not the lost little girl or the woman with walls. You see me. Just me.”

“You’re all I see, Swan. Have been for some time.”

She didn’t know who started their next kiss, but she felt the frenzy of it all the same. It was just as magnificent as before, but this time sincerity simmered throughout as well. The understanding they were reaching made it all the better. Knowing they were both going to jump here gave her comfort, but there were still some words to say.

“I don’t really know how to do this,” she admitted, running her hand across his chest as their foreheads touched. She looked down to avoid an embarrassing exchange. Patiently he waited, but when she stayed stock still, he tilted back and brought up his hook. He gently nudged her chin back up, prompting her to see that there was nothing like judgment in his eyes.

‘Neither do I. But we’ll see it through. Together.”

“I’m not good at letting people in.”

This time he grinned, looking like a man who was up for the challenge of scaling her walls. She almost rolled her eyes until he took her hand in his and pressed a gentle kiss upon it. It was an intimate gesture that made her heart soar. Who was this man who could be so roughish and rough one moment and yet gentle and sweet the next?

“That makes two of us.”

“I’m going to fuck this up,” she affirmed, assured of the missteps she would make and wanting him to realize she was so much less than perfect.

Now he looked frustrated, and his voice ground out in a graveled, gruff tone. “Not possible.”

“How do you know?”

‘Because you’re you, Swan,” he murmured, pressing sweet kisses to her face, to her neck and jaw, then her lips once more. “You’re rare and remarkable and real. You can do anything you set your mind to, anything but push me away. I’m in this, Emma. Entirely and completely. It’s soon to admit that, but you deserve the truth, and you’ll always hear it from me.”

“I really want to trust you,” she whispered, clutching onto his shirt and letting this one last worry live between them.

“And someday you will. In the meantime, I can wait. I will wait. As long as it takes.” That was all it took. Peace finally claimed her, and something in her settled.

“Okay,” she murmured, leaning in to hug him and basking in his heat and the gentle thrumming of his heart.

“Okay,” he replied, a lilted whisper in her hair as he held her close.

They remained out there for a while more, but neither needed to say anything for them to realize what must come next. Emma needed to go home, and he would see her there, safe and sound. They walked together, down Main Street in the moonlight, hand in hand, with the closeness of lovers, and the poise of two similar souls seeking comfort in each other. No one was around to see them, but Emma knew they would very soon. She wasn’t going to hide this, and someday they’d walk in the light together, letting everyone know exactly where they stood.

When they were back by the loft, Emma stalled, not wanting this to end. She wished she could invite him up for a drink, a drink that would no doubt turn to more, but she couldn’t. Instead, they needed to say goodbye for now, but she found she wasn’t sure how.

Killian took the moment to pull her in, kissing her one last time, and saying again with actions what words could only half describe. This kiss was sweet but insistent, a reminder and a promise of all that he would give and all that they could have if they chose to be together. When they broke apart, Emma was certain in him and in herself. This was happening. This was right.

“Until tomorrow then, love,” he whispered, pressing one last kiss upon her cheek.

“Good night, Killian.”

His eyes lit up and he smiled at her use of his real name. She made a promise to herself that she would use it more often. He waited for her to go inside, and only when she’d done so did he finally walk away. Leaning against the wooden door, Emma sighed in relief and smiled.

This is the start of something good. Something true. Something… happy.

And with those final thoughts, Emma headed back to bed, and found that sleep came swiftly, bringing with it dreams she hoped would come to pass.

……………..

If I gave you every piece of me, I know that you could drop it Give you the chance, I know that you could take advantage once you got it If I open up my heart to you, I know that you could lock it Throw away the key and keep it there forever in your pocket

If I gave the opportunity to you, then would you blow it? If I was the greatest thing that happened to you, would you know it? If my love was like a flower, would you plant it, would you grow it? I might give you all my body, are you strong enough to hold it?

If I show you all my demons And we dive into the deep end Would we crash and burn like every time before? I would tell you all my secrets Wrap your arms around my weakness If the only other option's letting go

I'll stay vulnerable, yeah I'll stay vulnerable, yeah I'll stay vulnerable

If I hand you my emotion, would you even want to take it? If I give you all my trust now, would you fumble it and break it? If I let you cross my finish line, then would you wanna make it? I think I'm ready, won't you come and flip the switch and activate it?

I'll stay vulnerable, yeah I'll stay vulnerable, yeah I'll stay vulnerable

I'll stay vulnerable, yeah I'll stay vulnerable, yeah

If I show you all my demons And we dive into the deep end Would we crash and burn like every time before? (I'll stay vulnerable) I would tell you all my secrets Wrap your arms around my weakness If the only other option's letting go

(I'll stay vulnerable, yeah)

Post-Note: So, what did you think? Honestly, I had no intentions of writing this chapter right now. I knew the song needed to be in the mixtape, as I love it, and it fits so well with this series of CS love stories, but I have a number of other fics I am working on now that need attending to. Nevertheless, here we are, and luckily, this has proved to be the perfect palate cleanse for my other writing. My multichapter stories will be back soon. I’ve already started writing, and in the meantime, we all get an added little romantic bonus. Hope you enjoyed this dose of fluff, thank you all for reading, and know that I’m wishing you safe, healthy, and well. xE.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9,Part 10,Part 11, Part 12,Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24,Part 25, Part 26, Part 27, Part 28, Part 29, Part 30, Part 31,Part 32, Part 33, Part 34, Part 35, Part 36, Part 37, Part 38,Part 39,Part 40, Part 41, Part 42, Part 43, Part 44, Part 45,Part 46,Part 47, Part 48, Part 49, Part 50, Part 51, Part 52, Part 53,Part 54,Part 55, Part 56, Part 57, Part 58, Part 59, Part 60,Part 61,Part 62, Part 63, Part 64, Part 65, Part 66, Part 67, Part 68,Part 69,Part 70, Part 71, Part 72, Part 73, Part 74, Part 75,Part 76,Part 77, Part 78, Part 79, Part 80, Part 81, Part 82, Part 83,Part 84,Part 85, Part 86, Part 87, Part 88, Part 89, Part 90,Part 91,Part 92, Part 93, Part 94, Part 95, Part 96, Part 97, Part 98,Part 99,Part 100, Part 101, Part 102, Part 103,Part 104, Part 105,Part 106, Part 107,Part 108, Part 109, Part 110,Part 111, Part 112,Part 113, Part 114, Part 115,Part 116, Part 117, Part 118,Part 119,Part 120, Part 121, Part 122, Part 123,Part 124, Part 125,Part 126, Part 127, Part 128,Part 129,Part 130, Part 131,Part 132,Part 133, Part 134, Part 135, Part 136, Part 137, Part 138,Part 139,Part 140, Part 141, Part 142, Part 143, Part 144, Part 145,Part 146, Part 147, Part 148,Part 149, Part 150, Part 151,Part 152, Part 153, Part 154, Part 155, Part 156, Part 157, Part 158,Part 159, Part 160, Part 161, Part 162, Part 163, Part 164,Part 165, Part 166, Part 167, Part 168, Part 169, Part 170,Part 171,Part 172, Part 173, Part 174, Part 175, Part 176,Part 177, Part 178, Part 179 , Part 180, Part 181, Part 182, Part 183, Part 184, Part 185, Part 186, Part 187, Part 188, Part 189, Part 190, Part 191, Part 192, Part 193, Part 194, Part 195, Part 196

#captain swan #captain swan fic #cs fic #cs ff #cs fluff #cs smut?#cannon divergent #cannon divergence #captain swan rewrite #emma swan #killian jones #ouat rewrite #cs oneshot #captain swan oneshot #the mixtape #cs mixtape #captain swan mixtape #i'll stay vulnerable

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izzyfandoms · 4 years

Text

Buy One, Get Six Free

(Thomas and Remy have been together for a while now, and it’s going well, but there’s one problem. Remy doesn’t know that Thomas has sides.

What happens when Thomas finally tells him the truth? How will Remy react? And will Remy love the sides as much as they love him?)

SHIPS: Sleepmas, Losleep, Sleepality, Rosleep, Sleepxiety, Sleepceit, Dukesleep

WARNINGS: Sympathetic Deceit, Sympathetic Remus, Remus says some mildly sexual/gory things but nothing actually happens

TAGLIST: @quillfics42 @ajdraws0430 @phantomofthesanderssides @creativity-killed-thekitten @phlying-squirrel @sly-is-my-name-loving-is-my-game @because-were-fam-ily @imtryingthisout @a-creepycookie @emo-disaster @littlestr @spooky-scary-virgil @fuyel @mimsidoodles @soupgromlin

Masterpost

Thomas bit his lip, pacing back and forth across the living room floor and wringing his hands. He routinely checked the clock, watching the seconds tick by, getting closer and closer to 2pm. His stomach filled with dread as the sides all watched him walk, a strange mixture of excitement, neutrality, and downright terror.

“Okay… but, like, what if he freaks out?” Virgil spoke up suddenly. “This is a bad idea, one of the worst ideas we’ve ever had. Why are we doing this? We’re just gonna ruin everything. He’s gonna think we’re super weird and dump Thomas immediately, and then we’ll be alone forever.”

Thomas made a pained sound, as did Roman, and Logan sighed.

“Virgil, we don’t know that,” He said calmly. “And, based on prior behaviour, I doubt Remy will react like that. It is more likely that he’ll be confused than anything else. Besides, communication is a necessity in any long-term relationship, it would be unhealthy to keep this from him for much longer.”

Patton nodded eagerly. “Yeah, and Remy loves Thomas, he’s not gonna leave him just ‘cos of this!”

Virgil didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t say anything else, silently chewing his thumb as he sat at the foot of the stairs.

“Do you think he’ll wanna fuck us, too?” Remus grinned, practically bouncing up and down on the spot, and Roman gasped beside him, kicking his brother in the shin.

“Don’t be crude, oh, evil twin of mine, we should focus on the romance!” Roman said. “And, besides, you’re the ugly one, anyway.”

Before this could escalate into a full-on brawl – which it likely would have, given how most arguments with the twins turned out – Deceit intervened, two extra arms appearing at his waist, stretching out and pushing the brothers apart. Fortunately, Thomas was too busy stressing out to notice, or he might have actually thrown up.

All of a sudden, they heard a knock at the door – three raps, and then the doorbell rang.

It was Remy.

Logan straightened up, adjusting his tie. “We’re sticking to the plan,” He said, leaving no room for disagreement. “We’ll all sink out, and then, when Thomas cues us, I will appear, and we will explain the situation to Remy. If he is agreeable, Patton can appear, too, and possibly Roman. We do not want to overwhelm him.”

The doorbell rang again, and Thomas rushed over to the door. He looked back at his sides, watching them all sink out – some wishing him good luck, but most just disappearing without a word – before opening it, and coming face-to-face with his boyfriend.

“’Sup, babe,” Remy greeted, before his brow pinched together, and he tilted his head. “You look stressed. You good?”

“Yup!” Thomas answered, his voice just a little too high, and not convincing either of them.

Remy nodded slowly. “Uh huh… sure. You wanna talk about it?”

“Later.”

His boyfriend didn’t look like he believed that, either, despite it being the honest truth, but he didn’t press, instead lifting the two to-go cups in his hands.

“I brought coffee.”

Thomas smiled genuinely as Remy handed him the cup, taking a large sip with a content sigh, and stepping to the side so his boyfriend could enter the apartment. There were a few moments of silence, and that was when Thomas noticed that Remy was staring at him.

“What?”

Remy let out an exaggerated gasp. “Wow, I’m out here looking like a snack and you’re just not going to kiss me? Rude.”

Thomas couldn’t help but laugh, leaning down and pecking his (short) boyfriend on the lips. When he pulled back, Remy gave him one of those soft smiles that made his heart do cartwheels in his chest (and maybe Patton was doing cartwheels in the mindscape, too, there was really no way to tell).

Remy took Thomas’s hand, tracing random shapes across his palm with his finger.

“So,” He began. “Are you gonna tell me what’s up, or am I gonna have to guess?”

Thomas tried not to panic and freeze at the question, he really did, but Remy noticed anyway, looking back up at him with concern.

“I need to tell you something,” Thomas admitted. “It’s nothing bad, it’s just… there’s something about me that you need to know, and you’re probably gonna want to sit down for this.”

He led Remy over to the couch, and they both sat down.

“I, uh…” Thomas trailed off. He sighed; this was going to be hard to explain. “Just- um…”

He waved his hand, deciding to just rip off the band-aid, without any preamble, and Logan rose up in his usual spot. Remy jolted so hard he almost fell off the sofa, and Thomas only just managed to catch his sunglasses in time, as they’d slipped right off his face. He tried to hand them back, but Remy wasn’t paying attention to him, instead, he was staring at Logan, wide-eyed and perplexed.

After a moment or two, Remy began to look back and forth between Thomas and Logan, as if comparing them, and they waited patiently for him to finish.

“Okay, uh…” Remy said, running his fingers through his hair, messing it up even further. “What?”

Thomas wanted to fix it for him, to pull him close and reassure him that he wasn’t insane, but he was worried that Remy wouldn’t react well, so he resorted to just staring at him instead.

“I am Logan, it is nice to finally meet you,” Logan introduced himself, stepping forward and holding out his hand for Remy to shake.

Remy did so almost immediately, wanting to check if Logan was really there, and looking rather startled when he realised that he was, in fact, real. His hand was soft, just like Thomas’s, though a little bit cooler, and Remy’s touch lingered as he found himself wanting to just keep holding that hand and never let go (like he often felt with Thomas).

Logan’s face had turned pink by the time that Remy pulled away, and he cleared his throat in an attempt to regain his composure.

“I am one of Thomas’s sides, the physical representation of his logical thinking and knowledge.”

Remy nodded along as if he understood. “Uh huh, okay… what does that mean?”

“I’ve found that comparing our situation to that of Riley’s in the movie ‘Inside Out’ is the easiest way to explain it to others,” Logan explained. “Just, instead of emotions, we represent more complex concepts such as Logic, Morality and Creativity.”

“Is that why you made me watch Inside Out with you last week?” Remy glanced at Thomas, and his boyfriend gave him a slightly sheepish smile and a nod.

“You’re taking this remarkably well,” Thomas commented.

Remy shrugged. “This isn’t the craziest shit I’ve ever seen.”

“It isn’t?”

“I’ll tell you ‘bout it later, babe,” Remy said, patting Thomas’s arm. “So, how many sides are there?”

Logan took a step closer. “Right now, there are six of u-”

Before he could finish that sentence, both Patton and Roman popped up in their usual spots, making Remy jump, though he didn’t look nearly as startled as he had when Logan had first appeared. They both looked ecstatic, and, frankly, lovestruck.

“Hi, I’m Patton!”

Patton looked like he wanted to hug Remy – and he did, desperately – but he didn’t want to overwhelm him, so he stayed by the curtains. Roman, apparently, had no such qualms, rushing forward and taking Remy’s hands in his own. This was the first time he was seeing Remy with his own two eyes (not just through Thomas’s), and he was too gay to think straight.

“Oh, my stars, you’re gorgeous!” Roman breathed, and, before he could stop himself, he continued with: “I’m in love with you.”

For a moment, Remy looked surprised, and then his expression melted into the soft smile that he usually reserved just for Thomas. In any other situation, Remy looking at someone else like that would have made Thomas feel jealous, but Roman wasn’t really ‘someone else’, was he? He was a part of Thomas, and if Remy could love Thomas as a whole, which he did, very much, he could love all his different parts, too.

Things were going to be okay.

***

“I do not have any feelings or emotions; I am only in a relationship with you because Thomas is. It just makes logical sense,” Logan said matter-of-factly, adjusting his glasses.

“Sure,” Remy said. “Does that mean you want me to get out of your lap?”

Logan instantly tightened his grip around Remy’s waist, pulling him closer. “Of course not.”

Remy smirked, tilting his head up to look at him. “Aww, does that mean you love me?”

“I do not feel love.”

Remy pouted, and, even though Logan knew it was fake, he still immediately had the urge to take it back, so the smile that he adored would return.

“Okay, fine, I love you,” He admitted.

One of Remy’s hands reached up to carefully cradle Logan’s face, the other resting in the centre of his chest, over his tie – ready to, at any moment, use it to pull Logan closer and capture his lips in a kiss, as he often did.

“I love you, too,” Remy smiled. “My shooting star.”

Logan’s cheeks reddened at the nickname – just like he knew they would – and Remy’s smile widened.

“You’re adorable,” He said.

“Falsehood.”

“You are,” Remy insisted, sitting up straighter so they were almost nose-to-nose, bumping Logan’s glasses. “You.” Kiss. “Are.” Kiss. “Adorable.”

He then kissed him again, this one lingering longer, before Remy finally pulled back. Logan couldn’t help but chase his lips, and Remy smirked again, making Logan blush just a little bit more.

“See,” Remy tucked a stray strand of hair behind Logan’s ear. “Adorable.”

***

“Ooh! Ooh! Ooh! Now try this one,” Patton beamed, holding out another cookie just in front of Remy’s lips.

Remy opened his mouth obediently, taking a bite and chewing it slowly.

He and Patton had spent the last few hours baking a variety of sweet treats in Thomas’s kitchen. If you asked Patton, he would say that it was a team effort. If you asked Remy, however, he would say that Patton had done most of the work, as Remy had no idea how to bake. He wasn’t complaining, though, not in the slightest, especially not when Patton came up behind him, covering Remy’s hands with his own to guide him.

Remy swallowed. “It’s good,” He said. “Sweet.” And then he grinned. “Though not as sweet as you, sugar.”

Patton giggled, delighted.

“Not too sweet?” He asked.

“Never.”

Patton laughed again, poking Remy’s nose. “I was talking about the cookie, silly!”

“Oh, yeah, they’re good, too.”

“Do you think Thomas will like them?” Patton asked.

Remy tilted his head, his sunglasses slipping down his nose – revealing his distractingly gorgeous baby blue eyes – as he gave Patton an amused look. His hair flopped to one side, and Patton reached out to fix it.

“I’m pretty sure you know him better than I do, hon.”

“That’s true,” Patton said, before popping the rest of the cookie into his mouth. He chewed slowly, before smiling again. “I think Thomas will like them.”

***

Thomas flung the front door open, smiling when Remy stepped inside, immediately taking Thomas’s hand, squeezing it, and planting a kiss on his boyfriend’s cheek.

“Morning, babe,” He greeted.

“Hey,” Thomas said. “I’ve gotta get back to work now – Logan and Roman are helping me with a new video idea – but Virgil’s out, so you can hang out with him, for now.”

Remy grinned, taking off his sunglasses and placing them on top of his head, knowing full well that Virgil was weak for his eyes, and intending on taking full advantage of that fact. To be fair, all of them loved Remy’s eyes, and, upon seeing them, Thomas couldn’t help but lean down and kiss him properly.

When they pulled apart, Remy stepped around him, into the apartment, strolling over to the couch, where Virgil lay, scrolling through his phone. It didn’t really make sense that Virgil had a phone, but nothing about the sides ever really made sense, so Remy chose not to question it, instead flopping into Virgil’s lap without warning, grinning when the anxious side instinctively sat up, wrapping his arms around him.

“Mornin’, handsome.”

Remy’s smile widened as Virgil’s face turned pink. He remained flustered for another moment or two, before he calmed himself down and rolled his eyes.

“Not a very accurate compliment, babe.”

Remy shushed him, covering Virgil’s mouth with his finger. “Nope, nuh-uh – you can’t insult my boyfriend like that. I won’t allow it.”

Virgil snorted, taking Remy’s hand away from his face and intertwining their fingers.

“Are you just here to keep me distracted so I don’t keep bothering Thomas about the new video idea?” He asked dryly.

“I’m here because I wanna snuggle with my very gorgeous boyfriend,” Remy corrected, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to the tip of Virgil’s nose. “And also make out with him. Any distraction from bugging Thomas is just a bonus.”

Virgil rolled his eyes again. “You’ve got seven boyfriends, why choose to sit on my lap?”

“Technically, I only have one boyfriend.”

“Wow, big word. Logan would be so proud of you.”

Remy poked Virgil’s shoulder. “Don’t be rude. And I’m sitting in your lap because I love you and I want to, plus you’re, like, super warm.”

“We’re all warm.” There was a beat. “I love you, too.”

Remy grinned again. “Great. Wanna make out?”

***

Remy absent-mindedly scrolled through his phone. Thomas was upstairs, looking for something, and would likely remain there for another few minutes, at least, so his boyfriend was just looking for a way to pass the time.

Then, suddenly, he heard the familiar whooshing sound that meant a side had just risen up. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw light blue, and a bespectacled man standing by the curtains. Remy snorted quietly.

“You know that doesn’t work on me, darlin’.”

Deceit pouted – a very Patton-like expression, most likely deliberate – and then crossed his arms in a manner that was decidedly not Patton, which would have given him away, if Remy hadn’t already seen through his disguise.

“What did I do wrong this time?”

Remy looked up from his phone, giving Deceit a once-over. He then shrugged. “I dunno. You’re just… different, I guess.”

Deceit sighed, running his fingers through his hair, and, in the blink of an eye, he was back to his normal snake-like self, his hat in his hand. He placed it on his head, but, before he could say anything else, Remy had jumped off the couch, reaching up on his tiptoes and plucking the hat back off his head with a grin. He only just managed to run his fingers through Deceit’s hair, which made the lying side smile, as, even though he was the shortest side, Remy was still much shorter than him, which was, honestly, adorable.

“You’re cuter without the hat,” Remy teased, placing it on his own head. “It looks better on me.”

And how was Deceit supposed to not kiss him when he looked like that? Wearing Deceit’s hat and grinning up at him in that way reserved just for them.

He didn’t get the chance to, though, as Remy kissed him first, standing up on his tiptoes and wrapping his arms around Deceit’s neck. Remy tugged him as close as possible, humming quietly against Deceit’s lips.

***

The moment Remy stepped into the apartment, he was swept off his feet, scooped up into Roman’s arms, and twirled around – once, twice, thrice. Remy’s sunglasses almost fell to the ground, but he caught them just in time, tucking them onto his t-shirt collar.

“How are you, on this fine morning, my radiant Sleeping Beauty?”

Remy sighed, wrapping one arm around Roman’s neck, the other hand clutching his half-empty coffee cup.

“Ugh, the barista at Starbucks was, like, so rude to me, this morning,” He complained, pouting slightly, but relaxing. “She just kept glaring at me.”

Roman clicked his tongue, but he couldn’t help but grin.

“Would you like me to fight her for you, my love?” He offered.

Remy snorted. “I’m pretty sure the cops would get called if you showed up at Starbucks with your sword, Prince Charming. Thomas would end up behind bars, and then who would take me into their arms and kiss me every day?”

“That’s the real tragedy,” Roman said, leaning closer to kiss Remy.

“Get a room!” Virgil shouted from the couch.

“You’re just jealous that Remy loves me more,” Roman joked.

Remy stretched his legs, reclining in Roman’s arms. He grinned. “Now, now, boys… there’s enough of me to go around. Besides, I don’t pick favourites.” He paused for a moment. “And, if I had to, I’d pick Thomas.”

Roman stuck his tongue out at Virgil, who rolled his eyes.

“Come on,” Remy smiled at Virgil over Roman’s shoulder. “Aren’t you gonna come give me a kiss, too, gorgeous?”

***

If he had been with anybody else, Remy would have scowled at the loss of his sunglasses. But he was with Remus, and he was used to this, so instead he just smiled, tilting his head up to meet his boyfriend’s eyes.

Remus dropped the sunglasses on the couch beside them, grabbing Remy’s face – a little roughly, but not hard enough to hurt.

“I want to steal your eyes.”

This probably would’ve alarmed Remy, but he was used to this kind of language from Remus, so instead he just laughed quietly, poking Remus’s shoulder.

“I think I’d rather you didn’t, pumpkin,” Remy said. “I kinda need them. How else am I supposed to admire your gorgeous face?”

Remus nodded, humming. “Good point.”

He ran one finger down the side of Remy’s face, the other hand holding his face in place as he stared into Remy’s eyes. Perhaps this should’ve been uncomfortable, but how could Remy feel anything but comfort when he was curled up in Remus’s lap, half under a blanket, with some horror movie that neither of them were paying attention to playing in the background.

“I’m gonna copy them,” Remus decided finally.

“Copy them?”

Remus nodded eagerly, his thumb resting just below Remy’s left eye. “Uh huh! I’m gonna make copies of your eyes that I can keep with me even when you’re not around.” Suddenly, he gasped, and then grinned. “I wonder what they’ll taste like.”

Remy wrinkled his nose. “Gross.”

Remus took that as a compliment, as Remy knew he would.

“Thanks!” He exclaimed, one hand moving to squeeze Remy’s waist, before pulling him into a predictably messy kiss.

***

Remy hadn’t meant to stop in the middle of the hallway, but he was distracted very easily, and, after pausing mid-step to read a text, he ended up standing there for almost five minutes. He didn’t look up when he heard footsteps behind him, and when he felt a hand on the small of his back, he knew exactly who it was.

“Hey, babe,” Remy greeted, his eyes remaining on his phone screen. “Just one sec, I’m arguing with my mom.”

“How can you always tell when it’s me?” Thomas asked.

Remy shrugged, finishing his text, before stuffing his phone back into his pocket. He then turned and wrapped his arms around Thomas’s neck.

“I dunno,” He said. “It’s just… obvious.”

“What, have you got like a… sixth sense for it, or something?” Thomas joked.

Remy laughed. “Nah, I’m just perceptive like that.”

He then kissed Thomas, quick and soft, before pulling back slightly. There was a beat, and then Thomas grinned, a glint that screamed either Remus or Roman – there wasn’t time for Remy to decipher it – in his eyes. Before Remy could question it, Thomas dipped him with a laugh that was absolutely Remy’s favourite sound.

He kissed him again and again and again and then once more on his neck to make him laugh.

“Did Roman tell you to do that?” Remy asked, his sunglasses slipping to reveal eyes that were so bright and happy that Thomas’s heart felt just a little too big for his ribcage.

“I can decide to do things on my own, you know,” Thomas teased.

Remy raised an eyebrow.

“Okay, fine,” Thomas admitted. “But Roman wasn’t actually the only one telling me to do that.”

“I’m sure.”

A moment passed, and then Thomas’s smile softened. “I love you so much, we all do.”

“I know,” Remy said, one hand moving up to cradle Thomas’s face. “I love you, too.”

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xmint-conditionx · 3 years

Text

☆ flanked ☆ prologue | knj

(verb) flank -

guard or strengthen (a military force or position) from the side.

attack down or from the sides, or rake with gunfire from the sides.

☆ pairing: soldier!namjoon x widow!reader; namjoon x fem!reader ☆ word count: 2K ☆ summary: you’re a recently widowed military spouse who is stationed at camp walker, south korea. you’re dealing with the tragedy of your husband’s recent death, and in the process, you accidentally meet a k-pop idol you’ve had a crush on for years. who knew you’d both be at the same post while he’s doing his compulsory service? who knew he’d be so damn nice? who knew it would be impossible to get him out of your head? ☆ warnings: mentions of death, public embarrassment, military death, adult language ☆ a/n: hey everyone c:i’m really happy to be reuploading this fic; i’m going to set a goal of updating it once a month. this is my baby, and i want to do it right, so if it doesn’t come as predictably as i want it to, apologies in advance, but i really hope you enjoy what i have!

this fic starts of intense and will only get more intense. i very much recommend double checking the warnings list because there’s gonna be some pretty heavy stuff in the prologue here and going forward. please do keep in mind that this is purely fiction and i do not want (most of) this to actually happen to anyone. it won’t all be sad though, promise! i mean it’s namjoon we’re talking about: the biggest goofball on the planet. there will be eventual smut, but we have to build up to it, now don’t we? thanks luv, enjoy!

Here you are, in the quaint little convenience store and dry cleaning shop right outside of post, on just another cloudy Winter Wednesday. However, today is a little different, because you have made it to the front of the line and have begun violently crying. Not one of those shedding a single tear cries, but a terrible cry that has taken hold of your entire body. A shaking, snot-faucet, fist-clenching cry. Nothing truly lamentable has happened, except for an inability to recall the Korean word for receipt. You’ve lived at Camp Walker for just shy of two years, so it’s safe to say your ineffectiveness in vocalizing your needs isn’t for lack of knowledge. Despite your quickly-grasped and quite thorough knowledge of the language, the overwhelming sadness and anger you possess about your situation somehow has evaporated away all your Hangul proficiency. Which has left you looking utterly incompetent. Of course a breakdown is in order. All you needed to do was pick up your dead husband’s dress blues for fucks sake, but you can’t remember how to speak and now you’re embarrassing yourself and wasting this poor lady’s time and why does this have to be so goddamn difficult.

The people behind you in line are now beginning to stare in a strange mix of confusion, concern, irritation, and apprehension. Perfect. You exit the line and begin sputtering out desperate attempts at the lost word, so entirely wrapped up in your own stupid brain that you fail to register the approach of a tall man in an American style ACU. A deep and calm voice eases out of the truly tree-sized man in front of you.

“Ma’am, do you need some help?” he asks.

Your vision is tear-ruined and the last thing you want is pity. Pity is exhausting.

“Oh, you’re gonna help the poor little sad girl, huh?” you spit out at him, not even bothering to look up, “just tell me the fucking word for receipt please. That’s all I need.”

Despite your downright rudeness, the man replies without hesitation. “Yeongsujeung. Are you sure that’s all I can help you with?” You look over towards the counter to see that the lady has begun helping other customers, and you really aren’t looking forward to waiting in line again. No pity, you remind yourself, so you shake your head at the man and meekly muster out a “gamsahabnida” as you stare at the floor, too embarrassed at your lack of composure to make eye contact with your new acquaintance.

He just sighs and says, “Ma’am, would you mind if I stood in line for you? It might feel good if you sat down for a minute. I promise it’s not a hassle. I’m here to get my dry cleaning too.”

Jesus Christ, what is this guy? Some kind of mind reader? Who is that observant? Or are you just that obvious? You really, really don’t want more help. That’s all people have been trying to do for the past week. Coming by your house with food, offering to walk your dog, so many informational pamphlets about therapy, every person saying that they can be a listening ear if you need it. But you don’t. You just want to be left alone already. Nothing anyone has said has been comforting, because they don’t actually know what it’s like. They just don’t get it. And it’s nice that they want to help and are actually trying, but fuck. It mostly just makes things worse. But your head hurts from the exertion of crying, and that’s all it takes to convince you that you might actually want to sit down.

You wipe your eyes and finally feel like you’re allowed to really breathe again. You look up at the kind man to thank him once more, this time more sincerely, and in that instant, you’re sure you’ve gone insane. That’s got to be it. The death of your husband has thrown you completely off your rocker. That’s the only explanation for what stands before you. You’ve finally had a full psychotic break and are currently hallucinating in the corner store. You’d honestly burst out laughing if your throat wasn’t raw, because standing in front of you is a man who looks remarkably like Kim Namjoon.

You haven’t thought about this man in years, and his dark shorter haircut instead of his usual longer locks is probably the most confusing matter about the whole thing, oddly enough. You recall in your mind the photocard you have of him from when you bought one of their albums several years ago. The luscious long blonde hair in the photo is shockingly different to the style that he’s sporting now. If it weren’t for his signature dimple greeting you alongside his small sincere grin, you’d almost have never recognized him.

Oh my god. And now you’re standing in front of him, and he’s standing in front of you, and he’s so much taller than you thought he would be, and you’re having a meltdown in a cornerstore, and he’s so much more handsome in person, and now you’re staring into each other's eyes and this can’t be happening.

It can’t really be him. You’ve just gone completely mental. You know the leader of BTS began his compulsory military service about a year and a half ago, but the chances of you crossing paths is still nearly impossible. You begin to tell yourself that he’s just a doppelgänger and your recent distress and suffering has made your brain desperate for serotonin. It can’t really be him. You’re just crazy now. That would be easier to deal with, at least.

You half don’t believe it’s him and half don’t want to believe it’s him. If it is him, you sure as hell don’t want to make the interaction any more weird than it’s already been. If it’s not him, you’d only be embarrassing yourself further. The best, and really, only course of action to take at this point, because you absolutely do not trust your words, is just to nod your head and avert your gaze as you walk to the little bench by the door. You try to focus your thoughts on literally anything other than your brain’s manifestation of a pop star. It almost doesn’t happen, but as peace comes, you mentally thank yourself for your long-time practice of mindfulness. It would have been an impossible task had you never done this before. By the time he gets to the front, you’ve successfully managed to calm down and focus on your breathing. You’ve got yourself convinced the man simply looks similar to Namjoon, and that’s it. Nothing to get worked up about.

As you rejoin the man, he greets you with another warm grin and gestures to the counter. Shit. Are you ready to talk again? He’s insisting you go first, and you notice the little dimple poke out again. His lips are so… pillowy. Oh god, are you staring? You shake loose of his grasp on you and in practically perfect Korean, apologize to the lady for before, tell her the last name and details on the order, and tell her you’re sorry about misplacing the receipt from drop off with the order number on it because it’s... been a really long week. She nods, seeming relieved you didn’t burst into tears again and goes in the back to search for your items.

The tall serviceman next to you now speaks to you in Korean. “That was impressive. You’ve been here for a long time?”

“Only two years.”

“Well I suppose you really didn’t need my help then,” he says and chuckles a little. “I’m glad to see sitting down was able to help you relax.”

The lady hands over the dry cleaning and you thank her. As you pay, tears begin to swell in your eyes again. You’re holding the things your husband will be buried in. You can’t stop yourself from picturing it all… the funeral, his cold body, whether you’ll have to hold a closed casket ceremony, his poor mom, how long the receiving line is going to be, whether he would want flowers or not, wondering if you’ll be able to put his little award stripes on his suit jacket in the right order or if you’re going to have to get help… again.

Being so wrapped up in your thoughts, you don’t notice your new acquaintance giving the lady his ticket. He turns to you after she’s walked in the back.

“Lucky husband, getting his dress uniform picked up for him. You really know how to spoil a man, huh?” The seemingly innocent comment shoots fire through your veins. The woman returns with his dry cleaning and they go through payment as you let the anger boil inside of you. He is oblivious to the metaphorical bombs going off inside your body. You stare a hole into the man’s head as you spit out “My husband is fucking dead.”

You turn to leave and don’t look back, not giving him a chance to process your revelation. He makes the connection a moment too late, but he’s quick to catch up with you in the parking lot, this time speaking English. “Ma’am please let me apologize. I didn’t realize...”

You continue walking to your car; you don’t want to look at him again. “I don’t need an apology from you. It doesn’t matter.”

“Please, I had no idea. I was trying to make small talk; I never would have said that-“

You whir around and glare at him. You were done. “I get it, okay? Just stop feeling sorry for me already. I’m tired of it. Thank you for waiting in line for me. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a fucking funeral to plan.” The words come flying out and with each new sentence, you see him recoil again and again. His eyes are full of remorse and... understanding? You hold his gaze longer than you wanted to, and time stands still. What are you doing?

You’re fumbling with your keys, trying to manage the electronic key fob to unlock your car. He takes this opportunity to scribble some words and numbers on a paper he has clumsily fished out of one of his many uniform pockets and extends it out to you. Is he really trying to give you his number right now?! You’d be really flattered that a man this attractive is making a pass at you, if you hadn’t, you know, just told him your husband fucking died. You furrow your brows and roll your eyes, ready to chew him out again.

“Here, this is the name and address for a group therapy session on post for people who have gone through recent loss. We meet on Thursdays. I don’t know how much longer you’ll be in Korea, but you’d be welcome. I promise.”

You just stare at him dumbly, unable to process this information. Therapy? You’d been given so many pamphlets on loss that it made your head spin. The only thing that thoughts of therapy has done for you in the past week has brought up terrible associations.

“Please. Take it.”

His eyes are pleading. You can’t bear to see the desperation any longer. Breaking away from his heavy gaze, you take the scrap of paper. With one last thank you, you get in your sedan, throw the dry cleaning into the passenger seat, and lock the doors.

With your head in your hands, you start to cry again. Why do you have to be so mean? Thinking of the man, you turn to look in the rear-view mirror with a gentle hope that he’s still behind your car. You don’t know why you’re disappointed when he isn’t.

Thursday is tomorrow. You can make it until then.

#bts smut #bts imagines #namjoon x you #namjoon x reader #namjoon smut #soldier!namjoon #military!au #idol!namjoon #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts fic

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konako · 3 years

Text

How about some fluff for once. Inspired by your “I’m your pack” and imagining the others as werewolves. So here it goes.

Snow sits at home, enjoying some mom time with baby Neal and she grabs her calender. Birthdays to check, looking if there is any anniversary coming up, and of course always making a tiny mark for wolfstime. Because Snow cares.

And she realizes that in less than two months wolfstime overlaps with Red’s birthday. And she feels like she needs to pull out some stops for that specific birthday. Snow smiles remembering all the little side adventures she had with Red and what that friendship means to her.

She looks over at Neal and knows without Red by her side through thick and thin she wouldn’t have this family now. A family Red totally is a part of! (It’s why in her head she always calls her Red.)

A surprise birthday party? Lame. No, there needs to be something big. Especially because Snow can feel that Red is… unhappy? Unfulfilled? Restless? Something is definitely up. Maybe because all the people in Storybrooke are coupling up. Even in weird ways (oh, Snow knows her daughter is dating her stepmom… yeah, well, the family tree is already a ball of yawn you don’t want to mess with… this way Henry gets both his moms, so Snow is waiting for them to officially say something).

And then everything comes together in her head and half an hour later she’s at Regina’s.

“Transfiguration is easy. Well, the initial turning, if you know what you’re doing. But reversing it can be tricky. Unless it’s a downright curse, which I guess you don’t want.”

“No, I wasn’t thinking about actually cursing my family to become wolves for the foreseeable future. More like a timed event, a couple of hours.”

“You do understand that even if I can come up with the right potion for this, you would turn into a wolf. Not a werewolf.”

“I’m used to Red being taller than me, so.”

And so it’s settled. Regina is tasked with brewing up a potion that could turn a human into a wolf for a set period of time (give or take ten minutes). Because Snow wants Red to know that she absolutely does have a pack.

After two weeks Regina has something. That in theory should work. Now it needs a human test subject. Snow is all “I’ll do it, it was my idea”, but Charming goes “no, if something goes wrong, it shouldn’t be you, you’re too valuable, I’ll go” and Regina is already rolling her eyes and then Emma can’t take the discussion anymore and drinks the stuff.

It’s really weird, but *tada* wolf Emma. Very light brown fur. And extremely irritated at how having four legs works. There is a moment of tension, because they just debated what if the person isn’t conscious and they have a wild animal in the house. But Emma is only growling, because she doesn’t know better and starts forming sounds.

Two hours later she has destroyed a throw pillow, just because (it’s fun!!), ran up and down the stairs at full speed a few times, found out why ear scratching is a thing (so good), had a sneeze attack sniffing flowers and is very much exhausted. She transforms back after another hour while sleeping.

Yeah, okay, there is this one thing. The potion changes the person, but leaves the clothes behind. Maybe Regina should have thrown a blanket over wolf Emma who was resting her head in her lap, because now there’s a naked woman… oops… Snow grins and turns around. Oh yeah, she knows what’s up.

Emma insists that everybody involved should have a go at this beforehand. Just getting used to these heightened senses and the whole animal body. So when they will surprise Red on her birthday, they know what they’re doing.

It’s good that Charming couldn’t help himself and made a few pictures the first day, because now Snow starts an album. It’s interesting to see the differences in their wolf forms. Like how Snow is jetblack (Snow White is all about white skin and black hair, so why is she surprised now), but also more fluffy than Charming, who has a lean build with huge paws.

When Henry says he wants a turn his moms are hesitant at first. Moms! They want to argue that it’s for grown-ups, but hallo, this is about Red having a go with her pack and he is totally part of that. He wants to show his favorite babysitter that he loves her like family as well. He does regret his insistence when he turns into an obviously younger wolf. At least he has started puberty as a human, so he isn’t a tiny pup, but Emma and Regina are all over how cute he is. Oh no.

The other big debate comes, when Snow says it’s Regina’s turn and she refuses. Snow feels a bit insulted, what is this now, they are a family and she thought Regina and Red got along pretty well lately. And Regina admits that some days Red is actually the person she likes most, because she is less idiotic than the Charmings, but hallo, what if something goes wrong?! And Regina is obviously very frustrated about that part, because she would actually enjoy having a go at this. (If Snow tells anybody she admitted that it looked like a lot of fun, she will deny that claim, she’s too dignified for that.)

Regina is right (“of course I am”) and Snow thinks the plan through once more. If they all transform at the same time, it shows what a large pack they are. But it would also be over far quicker. And they will exhaust themselves pretty quick. But if they make like two shifts, Red could enjoy some (inferior) wolf company longer and maybe sleep better afterwards, not left hanging with half her energy pumped up to go.

There is another talk Snow has pushed aside as long as she could, but it’s only two weeks left until the day and she finally goes to Granny. Who is, well, her usual sweet self. Snow has understood long ago, that her experience as a werewolf is different from Red’s perspective (especially since she gained control). But there is always a prickly push back about any wolf subject and she can see Granny rolling her eyes sometimes when Red has had too much fun out in the woods or a bit too proudly talks about something she achieved thanks to wolf senses.

Granny is Red’s family by blood, no doubt about it. And at one point Granny was a werewolf, sure. But Snow knows better than to even suggest Granny takes part in this while talking. It’s clear there is much buried pain and trauma. She never controlled her own wolf after being forced into this life. And Granny gives Snow a look about the whole idea, but she holds her tongue, because she loves her granddaughter and with a loud sigh, yes, okay, she can see how this is a nice gesture for her. And of course she will help to set up like a standard birthday party and then get Red to the woods.

Snow, Charming, Emma, Henry, Regina, Leroy and Belle are all in. (a footnote in the text: kinda wanna include Archie and Ashley, they should be there too, right? And if this is my fic timeline where I already sweep Hook under the carpet, is this where Mulan and Aurora are a couple and they showed up in Storybrooke?? Because they would be here as well for sure. Mulan has things to say about returning cursed beasts to human form.)

So the day finally comes and Red doesn’t even think too much about her birthday. Granny said there’d be a little get together with the others and it’s not weird putting her red hood on. She wears it quite often anyway. She does question why Granny is driving her to the woods now though and they aren’t walking over to Snow’s. And then she is just overwhelmed. So absolutely shocked, when Snow presents her with this bunch of friends and what they are gonna do for her now.

Actually out of words, this needs like a long line of thoughts, what would Red even say. Besides “you are crazy, why would you, how can you, what is happening, I love you too”…

Snow drinks the potion first, changes and for a moment Red can just stare. She lets Snow walk up to her and it’s such a reversal. Red has to pet her for a minute. She lets the others change to take in the sight, before she takes of her cloak.

It’s like a weird playdate and everybody is pretty happy with it. Especially with the planning that went into this and getting a feel for being a wolf beforehand. It’s a bit like doing sports for fun, going jogging together.

The last gut punch of the night comes when there is this grey wolf joining them. Not just a grey wolf as in the type of wolf, but really grey fur as in an older wolf. And this one is slightly bigger. It’s the first time for Granny that she is consciously running around as a wolf, so that is weird for her. But this is such a connection to her granddaughter and she could not say no. She had a long talk with Regina about it behind Snow’s back and this evening seeing it all happen changed her mind. Red instinctively knows what’s up and the two take a slow walk together through the woods, when the others have shifted back.

(Remember, clothes don’t change, so awkward hilarity might ensue in the middle of this. Okay, very emotional for fluff I guess…)

#my heart is overflowing with happiness for red oh my god #to think you wrote this #and two of those endings to the cruella story #the range #kat's got the range dear #ruby lucas #ouat #once upon a time #submission

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hippohead · 4 years

Note

Woohoo! I would love to see no.6 💖

things you said under the stars and in the grass - @gorgxoxus suggested that i continue with the same universe as this story since i got more than one of the same prompt, and have them return to the spot, which is a wonderful idea and so here is part two!

Kurt’s trying really hard to not get annoyed at Blaine.

He’s been odd all day; oscillating between quiet and overwhelming, his edges remaining fragile and weird through the swings. And Kurt has held his tongue, knowing there’s probably something deeper going on and he just needs some time to get to the place where he tells Kurt what it is.

They’re driving to Ohio for Thanksgiving. It’s a long drive from New York, and maybe that’s adding to Blaine’s behaviour. Kurt’s been behind the wheel for most of it, though, but it doesn’t seem like the right time to point that out. Not when Blaine is finally taking his turn driving. And not when he’s just huffed and changed the radio channel for the sixth time this hour.

“Something wrong with Guns N’ Roses?”

“No,” and it’s a little bit of a snap. “It’s just not the right music.”

Kurt manages to settle on amused despite his tone, and really, he’s being wonderfully lenient today, “And what would the right music be?”

The new station starts playing an old Green Day song and he huffs again, changes the channel again, and says, “Love songs.”

“Okay, Romeo.” And then he turns his body slightly away from his ridiculous boyfriend and focuses on the highway flicking past them. They’re almost there.

And then he can’t hold onto amused anymore because it’s turned into downright annoyance, finally, “Blaine, what are you doing? You just missed the exit.”

“No, I didn’t,” Blaine shakes his head. There’s a determination in the shake and so Kurt just lets him keep driving, past the exit that would get them to the Hudson-Hummel household, and towards Westerville. They aren’t due at the Anderson’s until Saturday but he’s been up since six – Blaine can drive them to wherever he wants, as long as there’s a bed when they get there.

And then they’re pulling up outside Nick’s house.

They haven’t seen Nick in a couple of years. They’re still in touch via email, like with most of the Warblers, but Nick and Jeff moved to the UK a while ago and haven’t been home since. Maybe they’re finally back in town. “Blaine?”

“Yeah?”

He’s looking ahead, straight at the house, still jittery and off but with an ease in his shoulders that wasn’t there before. “What are we doing here? Is Nick back from London?”

Blaine shakes his head and then turns to Kurt. The determination has moved from his earlier shake to his eyes, and it’s mixed with a certain type of plead and some softness. Kurt is glad he has gotten good at reading this map – Blaine - because there’s been so much to decipher today.

“Will you come with me?”

Kurt wants to sigh and beg for some sort of explanation, but he loves this man and his stupid moods and requests and so he says, “Okay.”

Blaine takes his hand once they’re out of the car – the first bit of affection he’s given Kurt all day – and leads him to the side gate of the house, assuring him that Nick’s parents have given him permission. Kurt can’t drain the weary at first, desperately confused and tired and just wanting blankets and a tea. And then they’re standing in Nick’s backyard, a place they haven’t stood in for seven years, and the tiniest bit of understanding settles in his heart.

“This is where we had our first kiss.”

“Yeah,” Blaine nods, smiling, and it’s such a beautiful smile that Kurt’s sure if they kissed right now it would feel like that first time, still. “Lay down with me?”

Kurt doesn’t even really protest. He’s wearing comfy driving clothes and even though it’s cold and probably muddy, something about this seems important and he doesn’t have any fight in him; he will lie in the mud with Blaine if it makes him happy, if it fulfills some sort of parallel for him, if it matters. The little bit of light that was still clinging to the sky when they pulled up has fallen away, replaced by a faint blackness that’s still a little bit blue and the start of stars.

At first, Blaine is silent and so Kurt is too. Their hands are still clasped together, resting on the damp grass and Kurt is just glad that it’s not raining and that they put their coats on. And he waits, and waits, and counts the stars, and waits.

“Kurt?”

He turns his head to find Blaine watching him and what looks like tears pooling in his eyes. “Blaine, what’s- are you okay?”

Blaine chuckles a little as if to dismiss it, but he’s still looking at Kurt with the same expression and it’s - hope? “Yeah, I’m- I’m better than okay. Kurt, I just... the thing is... I’m- Oh, this is much harder than I thought it was going to be.”

Kurt shivers, and the shiver means lots of things.

“I had this whole speech prepared, and I know I’ve been acting weird all day long, and it’s cold and you don’t like laying down in the mud – no one does, really, and-”

“Blaine,” Kurt interrupts, squeezes his hand, anchors him. “I’m here. I want to be.”

Blaine nods, understands, lets the way they’re lying in a spot that means so much to them help him. “Kurt, I love you so much.” And for a moment it seems like that’s all he’s going to say. But then, as if there are a million words hanging from his teeth, he starts to speak and doesn’t really stop, “I- I love the way you smile every time I say something dorky, I love the way you cut up your fruit in the morning, I love the way you share your heart with the people you love. I love your passion and your drive and your selflessness. God, I even love the way you drink from the same mug every single time, even though we have a cupboard full of them, even if it means you have to wash it. I just – sometimes I feel so overwhelmed with how much I love you and how much you love me and I never expected to find the love of my life in high school, but I did. I know I did every time I look at you and see the rest of my life in your smile.”

Kurt cannot speak for two reasons: there is no space to, and his throat has decided to get stuck. But he is smiling, and Blaine reaches out his free hand to trace it with his thumb and they both get lost in some sort of reverie at what the gesture means: I see the rest of my life in your smile.

“Do you remember the last time we were here? I asked you what the stars know and you told me they knew our secrets?”

Kurt’s throat unsticks enough to let him whisper, “Yeah?”

“They know my secrets tonight, too.”

“And what is it that they know?”

Blaine moves his hand away from Kurt’s face, “They know what I’m about to ask you. They know I have a ring in my pocket.”

Kurt’s not aware of the cold anymore. The stars could all flicker out and he wouldn’t know, maybe wouldn’t even care. Everything is just Blaine and the ring box he’s produced from his jacket pocket. “Do they know my answer?”

Blaine hums, “I think they have a pretty good idea, yeah.” And then, because he has to actually say the words, “Kurt, will you marry me?”

He opens the box, the movement somehow still smooth and lovely despite only having one hand free, and the band that’s sitting there is silver and simple and – perfect. “God, yes. Yes. Yes.”

Kurt wants to say yes a few more times. Maybe he should just keep saying it forever, over and over, a chant that never stops so Blaine really knows. But he doesn’t have the chance to say it again because Blaine is kissing him, his weight on him the same way it was all those years ago, and Kurt gets it – the need for the parallel.

They finally stop kissing and Blaine slides the ring onto his finger, and a gust of wind unsettles the grass and the stars haven’t flickered out, and everything is so perfect that Kurt doesn’t quite know what to do with himself. And so he lets his palm rest on Blaine’s cheek and looks into his eyes, so full of love and adoration and commitment, and says -

“I can’t believe you just proposed to me while I’m wearing sweatpants.”

#klaine fanfiction #klaine #kurt x blaine #i wrote this!#prompt #coffeeorderwrites #thank you so much for the prompt sal!#i hope this is okay - i adore that canon blaine is so bold and confident in the proposal #but here is an au blaine where it spins him a little bit!#because the poor boy is nervous ok #he's proposing to the love of his life!!!!

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komahinasecretexchange · 4 years

Text

Title: maybe not star-crossed (but daybreak)

Author: @fieldofsunflowers8

For: @emmakoneko

Pairings: Hinata Hajime / Komaeda Nagito

Additional Characters: Kamukura Izuru, Nanami Chiaki

Rating: M

Warnings: No specific warning applies beside the ones that could be applied in Danganronpa in general

Prompt: Hajime realising he loves Nagito.

Author’s notes: hi!!! this is my exchange piece for the komahina secret exchange!!! this was super super fun to write, and i really hope my giftee likes it! special thanks to my friend for looking over this and making sure it’s coherent :D have a good day, loves!

Hinata Hajime is not a romantic, but romance fills his thoughts anyway.

It’s an identifier that isn’t exactly of importance, of course. Romance on Jabberwock Island, specifically in the aftermath of the Neo World Program, is something privately kept by each individual pairing. Occasionally, it’ll be the subject of harmless speculation on the slow days, but overall, it is just… a part of life.

A part of life that most of them never got to fully experience.

A part of life that Hinata doesn’t necessarily need to have a piece of.

A part of life that he wants, all the same.

He isn’t certain if it’s the influence of Kamukura on him that makes him hesitate in the face of it. The other is a lull in the back of his head most of the time, diminishing everything to uninteresting, and yet seamlessly taking control when Hinata gives the slightest hint of needing help, slipping into the role of the Ultimate Talent easily. It’s a difficult dynamic, and it would be a lie to consider it a linear sort of thing– lines blur when you are made to become another person, and further, residing with that person in the headspace.

Hinata wonders if, before it all happened, back at Hope’s Peak Academy in the suffocating reserve course dorms, with little to hope for… he maybe pined after romance in a desperate way, if he wanted something to break the suffocating silence, if it would all really be any different to him now.

It’s not something he needs right now, which is what he tries to convince himself matters the most. He has enough overwhelming quiet, and even more overwhelming noise. He has tasks to commit to– even though all of the Remnants have awakened, there are Future Foundation members to call, emails to send, resources to manage, buildings to reconstruct, surgeries to conduct… it keeps him busy, to say the least.

(He hardly allows himself more than the clinical, repetitive process of healing. Not his own healing– that is far from the forefront of his mind. Rather, constructing robot arms and extracting rotting body parts and starting up chemotherapy. For the others. Not him,

never him.)

Prioritizing romance is selfish, in all cases. Putting it before himself and everyone on the island, losing himself in the want of something he isn’t even sure he could recognize, if he saw it in front of him, if he had a flickering chance of love… it’s selfish. Excess. A lapse.

However, there is still a kind of yearning he keeps in the back of his mind, in the endlessly swallowing part of his throat, in the throes of his heart. A sort of fixation, solely focused on a single individual, who keeps him awake through restless nights and sends him directly to the infirmary for more work, who leads him to discover new places on the island that the person tends to frequent, who leaves him with an unfamiliar warmth that his body rejects like a disease because love is not-

One that defies all his wants and needs, all his thoughts on relationships and the others, all his thoughts on the person whom he thought he hated more than anything.

One fixated on Komaeda Nagito.

And this is where his doubt is born.

–

The first time he hears the name Komaeda Nagito is in a time before the seeds of despair were planted by his hands, before The Project became more than just a whisper of Hope’s Peak conspiracy and research. He hears it from Nanami Chiaki, before she became just a program, before an entire class gave into despair at the sight of her death.

He hears it from her at the fountain. Their fountain, he has taken to calling it, because while they aren’t exactly the only people to come here, they are most certainly the two students who frequent it the most. Before, it was a place to admire Hope’s Peak from a distance (one he maintained out of respect, or maybe self-hatred, or maybe an amalgamation of both), but after meeting Nanami, the cynical tones of the setting were replaced with a sort of safe haven.

It’s now comforting, for him, to hear the sound of her game starting up against the sound of rushing water, leaves and blossoms fluttering around them as the sun lights up the campus around them.

In all honesty, it’s easy to get lost in the surroundings, in his own thoughts, especially when he has the space to. Nanami rarely presses any matter, unless it is something she’s particularly passionate about, so Hinata zoning out isn’t exactly an issue for her. It’s not like she doesn’t do the same. Which leaves them with a pretty nice relationship, because either of them are free to completely lose themselves in their thoughts without having to make small talk.

However, he does jar himself back to reality to pay attention to the game she’s playing– it’s a survival game, which is sort of exciting, because that’s the kind of video game he thinks he’d be best at– and listens to the soft breath she always takes before she starts to speak.

“Do you know a lot of Ultimates, Hinata-kun?” is what she asks, her voice as dreamy as usual.

It’s sort of a harsh question unintentionally, since it sort of nags at the parts of him that wishes he could be an Ultimate, would do anything to be an Ultimate, but he shoves that down and keeps his voice casual. (It’s not a big deal, anyway. Nanami affirms him of his worth a lot, and really, he should just… accept that things are the way that they are. But it’s really, really not that easy. Not when everything seems to loom above him, dangling promises of talent and hope).

“Uh, not really?” he answers tentatively. “I mean, I know Koizumi, and I sort of know Kuzuryuu because I’m friends with his sister.” Friends is probably not the right word for it, but being her friend is pretty much impossible. “And I know you, of course. But, I dunno about the others.”

“Mm,” she hums. She focuses back on her game for a while, and Hinata focuses right alongside her, but she ends up speaking again only a few moments later. “I was just thinking… a lot of my classmates would really like you.”

“Oh?” He leans forward, just a bit. “I don’t really know much about them, but maybe?”

It’s not really relevant, in any case, or possible, because I’m a reserve. So, why do I want to entertain this impossibility?

“Well, I can tell you about some of them.” There’s some passion in her voice, underneath the languid sort of pace her words take.

He shrugs. “Sure.”

She opens her inventory as sort of a pause screen, organizing all of the items while talking. “There’s Mioda-san. She’s… sorta loud, but she’s the Ultimate Musician, so that makes sense, I think. She’s really optimistic, she likes bright colors… reminds me of a dancing game… you’d get along with her, probably.” The idea that Hinata could be friends with someone like Mioda Ibuki is unsettling in a hopeless way, but he’s interested in the descriptions regardless. “She gets along well with Pekoyama-san, who’s the Ultimate Swordswoman. She’s really pretty and quiet; she’s defensive over Kuzuryuu-kun, too. Like a Skyrim housecarl, kinda. I remember Komaeda-kun saying something, once, and she was immediately at Kuzuryuu-kun’s defense. I don’t think Komaeda-kun meant it badly, though.”

Hinata tilts his head. “Who’s Komaeda?”

Nanami bites her lip, stacking some potions before saying, “He’s the Ultimate Lucky Student. He’s… sort of an outcast, I think, but he cares about the class a lot. I wish he would talk to us more.” She puffs out her cheeks in a cute way. “You might like him… but you also might hate him. Maybe.”

“Why would I hate him?” From what Hinata’s hearing, maybe dislike would make sense, but hate sort of implies he would have done something… really off.

“Mm… Komaeda-kun has strong views on talent and hope. It might annoy you, but…” she sighs. “I dunno.”

That’s a vague description, but it gives Hinata enough information to sort of… make inferences. Of course, Hinata sort of expected some Ultimates to view talent as superiority, and he knew that some of the adults believed it, but to hear it being an actual thing from someone his age… sort of sucks. At least the rest of the class seems to not agree with it.

But… is Hinata really sure of that?

In any case, he tunes back into the way Nanami continues talking about her classmates, about a sheepish mechanic and a princess she seems to have a slight crush on. He laughs along with her, listens with intrigue and fascination at some of the things her class has done and somehow not gotten expelled for, and feels the sense of peace grow overtime (alongside his quiet bitterness).

All the while, though, part of his mind thinks about Komaeda with a… weird sort of interest.

(And for some reason, Hinata wants to both avoid him as much as possible– which might be a bit harsh, admittedly– and also… maybe meet him.)

–

Hinata doesn’t sleep well.

His sleep patterns vary. Sometimes, he falls asleep in a random place– he’s been found on the floor of the dining hall and at the beach, once, both instances embarrassing– and stays asleep for the better part of a day, barely brushing below twenty hours as he restores his energy. Then, he pushes himself, neglecting rest for three days straight until he downright collapses again.

He tends to get nightmares, too. When he’s sleeping deeply and for a long time, it’s not enough to jar him. When he first woke up from the Neo World Program, though, they were relentless, leaving him paranoid and guilty constantly for all he has done to his friends– his family, now.

His family that he needs to stay awake to care for. His family he has to keep intact– physically and mentally.

(He remembers that, for a week, all he saw in his dreams was a burning warehouse.)

He doesn’t sleep well, working on restocking and labelling all the medications they have in the infirmary, and he finds that none of the others sleep well, either. Some sleep too much, some function on caffeine and nothing else. But there’s one other person on the island that varies with Hinata, not exactly the same but similarly.

Komaeda.

Hinata’s been monitoring Komaeda’s progress closely, almost closer than the way he fusses over the others. Komaeda’s health is precarious, even with the rotting flesh of Enoshima’s arm fully removed from his body, and one of the facets of his lifestyle that directly impacts his not-ideal progress is his shitty sleep schedule.

A simple example: he falls asleep at 4:00 PM, wakes up at around 7:29 PM. He goes to the dining hall, all of the other inhabitants having finished dinner and retired to their rooms for the later parts of the afternoon, and eats a worryingly small portion of dinner. He goes to his room, stays up for hours, and falls again the following day at 10:00 PM, successfully bypassing lunch and repeating the process.

It’s horrible in every possible way– it doesn’t do wonders for his prognoses and mental health, and Hinata doesn’t like the dark circles under his eyes that grow more familiar with each progressing day.

(It doesn’t suit his face. Because, well, Hinata can acknowledge that Komaeda is very, very pretty. But the shadows are… worrying. He still looks beautiful, but he looks more fragile than he’s ever been, even in the green pods, and Hinata wonders why he’s worried in a way beyond medical observation.)

However, there is one benefit to it, a meek silver lining that could hardly be considered one at all: Komaeda and Hinata end up accidentally interacting quite a lot. Komaeda follows lights– buildings with fluorescents open, signalling that Hinata is currently occupying them– and Hinata follows the soft sounds of Komaeda hanging out at the beach, throwing rocks into the ocean or tripping on some ridges and yelping.

The latter ends up happening when he exits the infirmary and sees in the distance a white-haired man face first on the beach shore, and he sighs in a way that isn’t fully exasperated as he walks over to help him out (maybe fond, maybe fond).

Komaeda tilts his face, his cheek still buried in sand, and looks up at Hinata. He decisively accepts his help, straightening himself out and brushing the sand off his pants with a smile. His voice is cheerful– far too cheerful for 5:00 AM– as he says, “Good morning, Hinata-kun! I’m so sorry you had to see me in such a disgraceful way!”

Hinata rolls his eyes. “You weren’t disgraceful. You just tripped. Also, why are you even out here?”

Komaeda’s lips curl slyly. “Do you even have to ask, Hinata-kun?”

“Ah.” Fair enough. “Well, you should, uh, try to get some sleep.”

“Will Hinata-kun get some sleep?”

It’s equally frustrating to talk to Komaeda and get him to do anything… and interesting. There’s also a bit of heat that wants to pour into his cheeks, something he fights with a poker face, at the idea that Komaeda cares about his sleep schedule. Technically, a lot of people on the island do, but it all comes back to the inexplicable feelings he has around the other. In any case, Komaeda’s due for an answer. “I was actually heading back to my cabin to do that.” It’s sort of a lie. Sort of.

(He was probably going to lay awake, staring at the ceiling again. Maybe he’ll think about the other, maybe he’ll think about everything else.)

“Can I come with you?” Komaeda asks.

Hinata squints. “… Why? How would that help either of us sleep?”

“It could be relaxing to be near another person,” Komaeda defends, his logic slightly flawed. “But I understand that being around me is absolutely dreadful, and I shouldn’t impose even the disturbing thought upon another person. I apologize for that, Hinata-kun! I’ll get out of your sight, now!”

“Wait,” Hinata finds himself saying before Komaeda can actually leave. The other stops and looks at him, a curious but not demanding expression in his murky grey eyes. It’s sort of cute. Hinata isn’t sure why, why he looks at the other in that way.

It’s with a defeated sigh that he says, “You can come with me,”

and Komaeda’s eyes light up in a way that’s really, really endearing.

–

The first time he meets Komaeda is a month after his conversation with Nanami.

Stress has settled onto his shoulders, making a permanent residence there, as exams approach at increasingly rapid paces and life-changing emails chase him forward, forward, forward. He finds little enjoyment in his spaces between classes, isolating himself up in his room and hardly having time to reply to any of his friends (not that there’s an overwhelming number of people on that list). Occasionally he takes a break, but these times just remind him that he has so much to do, so much to consider, his entire life might change with a few signatures and-

-he needs a breather.

He ends up leaving half-finished history homework on his tiny desk, nearly tripping over his laundry bin in exhaustion as he makes his way out of the dorms. He figures a small walk might do him some good, since he’s hardly seen the sun as of recent and it might be less intimidating to think through things when he has fresh air to breathe and the soft ambience of nature surrounding him.

He hums to himself for the first part of his walk, careful to stay out of the way of others, but he eventually falls into silence as the number of people around him dwindles. He’s tired– he’s so, so fucking tired– and he should probably be adjusted to fatigue and restless nights, since he’s not exactly new to overworking himself, but he hasn’t. Not fully. And God, he’d probably kill for a nap, for someone to hear him scream everything he thinks, to go to a completely different school for a few days and relax.

But would he even want that? Would he know what to do with so much free time? Would it even be okay, going to a place that would view him as equal, not endlessly lesser than another sector of the school? Would it even make sense to be worth something, when he has spent so long not being worth anything?

It’s in this rumination that he ends up near him and Nanami’s fountain, and he almost expects to see her there…

… but instead, he sees someone else.

The Main Course uniform is the first thing he sees, the red tie loose around the Ultimate’s neck, their jacket still buttoned properly. They must have been out there for a while, since their white hair, unruly atop their head, is slightly ruffled from the wind. Their grey-green eyes that remind Hinata of mercury he had seen in chemistry class is focused on the pavement, but looks up when Hinata’s footsteps grow closer. On their face, there’s a pleasant smile, one that Hinata finds strikingly pretty…

… one that disappears when they make eye contact with Hinata.

He can’t say he expected anything other than this.

“I thought reserve course classes were still in session,” they muse, which is an interesting conversation starter in any case. Paired with the way they were almost glaring at Hinata, it left him with… an unsettling feeling.

“They, uh, aren’t,” he replies eloquently. “They ended a bit ago.”

“Ah.” They smile, slightly, but it looks… more cold than friendly. “Can I get a name? Or should I just refer to you as ‘reserve-kun’?”

Hinata quickly decides he doesn’t like this person. “Uh, Hinata Hajime.”

They nod. “Komaeda Nagito.”

That name is… kind of familiar.

Oh. Oh. That’s the name of Nanami’s classmate. The Ultimate Lucky Student, who has strong views on talent and hope, if he remembers Nanami’s words correctly. Someone that Hinata would either like or hate– and it is strongly veering towards the later– someone who is a bit of an outcast. Someone who Hinata isn’t sure if he should have a lot of pity for, or none at all.

He’s heard more stories since, ones where Komaeda is a background character. He’s gotten the vague idea that aside from his unsettling opinions, he also tends to be an overall concerning individual, with a shocking inferiority complex, calling himself trash near constantly. It seemed to worry Nanami, which in turn worried Hinata.

But from the way this guy is talking, it doesn’t really seem like this guy feels inferior at all. At least, not compared to Hinata. Which is…

… not surprising.

Hinata isn’t really sure how to progress the conversation, especially one that started this oddly, so he figures he should make do with this new information, asking, “Oh, you know Nanami, right?”

“Nanami-san is my classmate, yes.” He tilts his head to the side and sits up a bit straighter. “You must be the reserve she’s friends with, then. In retrospect, I remember she’s mentioned your name once or twice. I thought she was kidding.”

Yeah. Hinata definitely doesn’t like this guy. “Well. She wasn’t.”

“So it seems.”

This conversation is going nowhere. “Well, I’m gonna go. And, uh. Finish my walk. So-”

Before Hinata can leave, Komaeda speaks up. “Don’t you feel awe, Hinata-kun, walking around Hope’s Peak, looking at a school filled with such hope and talent?” He punctuates those words, wrapping his arms around himself and looking up at Hinata. “Doesn’t it put you in your place? Knowing that you’re a stepping stone for hope, just here to further the Ultimates’ abilities? Isn’t it beautiful, so beautiful that you know you’re unworthy of it? Do you have another purpose aside from this, or do you put your value in mindlessly pacing the perimeter of Hope’s Peak Ac-”

“What the hell are you even talking about?” Hinata interrupts. This guy looks really worked up over the random bullshit he’s saying. He’s managed to get under Hinata’s skin really fast– which, yeah, Hinata has kind of a temper, but Jesus Christ.

This must be the whole concerning thing.

Komaeda just smiles wider. “You’re rather disrespectful for a reserve. Shouldn’t you be worshipping me? I mean, I’m utterly worthless in every possible way and deserve to be destroyed like the filth I am– but at least I’m an Ultimate.”

Hinata gives up, walking away from the other and running an agitated hand through his hair. He can hear Komaeda laughing raspily, still at the fountain, and it just forces his steps to go quicker.

(The most aggravating part of all of that is that it hurt. It shouldn’t– the opinion of a slightly-unhinged, annoying, pretty Ultimate shouldn’t hurt him. But it did.

Because there was some truth in that mess of shit he was saying. Hinata is inferior. Hinata would always be inferior to the Ultimates he looks up to– not as much as Komaeda said, but still. The whole being a stepping stone thing, he didn’t get, but… he is unworthy of this place. That much is true. That much hurts.)

He decides, without much hesitation, not to mention the encounter to anyone.

–

“Uh, make yourself at home, I guess,” Hinata says when Komaeda steps into his cottage, his eyes wide as he looks around the scene. Which is fair– Hinata hasn’t exactly had time to clean the place, and he’s sort of a restless sleeper, so it’s a shitshow of a mess, as of current. Komaeda’s room, from what Hinata’s seen, is a lot neater than this, so hopefully he isn’t all that judging.

(Not that Hinata really cares about Komaeda’s thoughts on his cabin.)

“Thank you, Hinata-kun,” Komaeda replies politely, sitting on the edge of the bed. Hinata sits beside him, and they both ignore the bed sheets that are tangled at their feet. “Once again, I apologize for intruding.”

“I invited you,” Hinata points out.

Komaeda frowns a bit. “Well, yes, but-”

“I wouldn’t have invited you if I didn’t want you here. I don’t exactly do things out of pity or kindness when I’ve been awake for over a day,” he states bluntly.

The other stares at him with a weird expression in his eye, something like understanding. “Ah.”

“Yeah.” Hinata kicks the sheets. “Speaking of.”

“Are you going to sleep, Hinata-kun?” Komaeda sort of teases, but there’s a level of seriousness in it. Hinata sort of hates the way the other makes him feel like he’s fucking up by neglecting himself (which is sort of an oxymoron in thought, but). It’s something Komaeda has always done– made Hinata feel like a fuck up, that is– but it’s sort of different, now, when it’s more of a constructive criticism than a blatant attack.

He’s not sure how he feels about the change.

“I was going to talk about you sleeping, actually,” he retorts, clearing his throat.

Komaeda smiles mischievously. “Did you invite me here just to watch me sleep? How flattering, Hinata-kun, but I assure you I would not be able to do harm to others or myself whilst asleep.”

“That’s,” he takes a deep breath, “not what I meant.”

“Ah, okay. Sorry for assuming!”

“It’s fine?” It sounds too much like a question to his ears, but. Whatever. “I just meant, like. I’m sort of concerned about your health.”

“This doesn’t seem like the mood to discuss this,” Komaeda observes.

Hinata blinks. “Was there a specific mood set by any of this?”

Komaeda looks unimpressed. “Hinata-kun, we’re in your room at 5:00 AM, spending time together. I don’t think this is ideal for a medical visit– especially considering how exhausted you are. I thought you were more trying to be a person than a doctor, right now.”

… There’s some truth in that. There’s some pain in that. Hinata doesn’t try to be inhuman in any way, but he knows, deep down, that it’s a difficult task to accomplish. Months of conditioning combined with the instinctual drive for survival resulted in Kamukura’s eternal boredom and apathy to manifest as a defense mechanism, one that Hinata employs in situations that aren’t necessarily defense-requiring. Like administering medicine, or investigating his own psyche, or trying to breach any topic with Komaeda.

He hates it, but it’s part of him, neither nature nor nurture. Just… a trait, forced upon him, one he has to adapt to.

“Hinata-kun?” Komaeda’s smile is thin. “I apologize for overstepping!”

“It’s fine.” He sort of has a headache. Maybe he should sleep. “You’re right. Sorry.”

“Ah, Hinata-kun doesn’t have to apologize! He can do whatever he likes! I still appreciate him regardless!” he reassures enthusiastically, in an almost adoring way.

… And. The thing is.

Hinata has been viscerally aware of Komaeda’s attraction to him ever since he awoke from the Neo World Program. It didn’t take overwhelming amounts of self reflection and memory analysis to realize that Komaeda has had feelings for him, ever since the Despair Era, when neither of them were the person they are now or were before it all began. It’s present in Servant’s endless worship and Komaeda’s subtle (and sometimes, less subtle) affections.

It’s something that Hinata thought, initially, he could just… accept. The fact that the other likes him is simply a fact of life, like the fact that this same individual is still suffering from frontotemporal dementia and lymphoma, like the fact that the other has trauma neither of them can even begin to impact, like the fact that Hinata is privy to entirely too much about the other that he’s hardly aware of.

This is why his yearning and fondness for Komaeda, despite his conflicting thoughts of romance, takes him by surprise. The idea that Komaeda’s affections could be requited is a shocking concept to both of them, one that might be earth-shattering or simply a natural progression of their current behavior. It’s a thought that he keeps in the back of his mind, primarily, believing that not much can be done until Komaeda heals.

And yet, it surfaces in the quiet moments like this, where Komaeda has that energetically adoring expression, where the moonlight accentuates his face in a pretty way that will only get more beautiful with daybreak, where Hinata is just staring at him mindlessly. It surfaces like this, and Hinata wonders, to himself, if he loves the other.

If this is how it comes to him.

“Hinata-kun?”

Or maybe it’s just a lapse.

“I’m tired,” he replies, which isn’t a proper response but it is the only thing he can find himself saying, right then.

Komaeda nods and starts to stand up, “Ah, okay! I apologize if I bored you, I know I can tend to do that. I hope you sleep well, Hinata-kun-”

Hinata catches his wrist.

“Maybe,” he inhales. “You can stay? And sleep beside me?”

Komaeda’s face shifts, emotions spreading across his face like auroras, but they’re quickly stifled by another smile, one that seems a bit more genuine. “Ah, of course! Whatever Hinata-kun wants.” He takes the eagerness Komaeda exhibits while taking off his shoes and scooting to the center of the bed as confirmation that Komaeda wants this as well.

It’s odd how Hinata has the courage to ask something like that, despite everything.

Hinata draws the curtains closed, hoping that the sun won’t wake them up, and he slips beside Komaeda in bed. The other adjusts well to sleeping in someone else’s bed, all things considered, but he looks fairly stiff all the same. Hinata knows there’s nothing he can do to change his slight discomfort– anything he could do would be a bit too courageous, and he’s already expressed a lot of bravery considering that he’s more contemplative than rash, at the moment.

So he lays down beside him, facing the other who faces away, and he finds himself tracing the contours of his body (innocuous and entirely unrelated to medical concerns), the way his hair curls against his nape, how his hands lay at his sides. It calms him to study the other, and he wonders if that is love, if all of this is love, even if he has a thousand other concerns.

It takes a pathetically short five minutes before he says, “Komaeda…?”

“Yes, Hinata-kun?” Komaeda still sounds awake. He wonders if he was planning on sleeping at all.

He breathes out a soft exhale. “Can we talk?”

–

He does not see Komaeda again until after despair overcomes the world.

But by then, both him and Komaeda are separate people. The memories prior to the creation of himself– Kamukura Izuru, that being– are vague and only documented in a diary that Hinata Hajime struggled to maintain. And Servant, while not suffering direct memory loss of everything regarding Hope’s Peak Academy, does not appear to want to verbally recall anything regarding the school to Kamukura. This could be from lack of trust. This could be his nature.

They meet in a bloodied street, bodies scattered across the asphalt in an unpleasing way. From an aesthetic standpoint, it is disgusting, but Kamukura does not necessarily dislike it. He does not dislike anything.

He only finds this despair base.

Servant’s hands are dirtied from crusted blood, which is to be expected. His hair is awry, his face in a considerably tormented frown, and his attire is dirtied aside from his chain that drags obnoxiously loud on the pavement.

Kamukura clears his throat.

His face shifts drastically when he sees Kamukura, which is the most interesting part of his appearance, as of current, and he immediately drops to his knees. It is certainly an interesting display, yet predictable, and Servant’s voice is raspy when he says, “Kamukura Izuru.”

“So you have heard of me.” That is understandable. The only reason Kamukura is at this location, after all, is because Enoshima requested prior to her death that Kamukura take ownership of Servant. She had considered it a present to him, but Kamukura finds nothing to be a gift, especially when it is at her hands.

One of her hands is severed and attached in place of where Servant’s would be. Expectable.

“You’re the Ultimate Hope,” he breathes. “I- I have been looking for you-”

“How convenient,” he cuts off his likely obnoxious rambling. He does not want to hear about his godhood from the lens of a worshipper. “As I was looking for you.”

Servant’s face flushes. “You were looking for me? Ahaha, I’m sure you must be mistaken.”

“Enoshima stated that in her death, you were to be my property. Transitive ownership.” His face twists at the sound of her name, which is not necessarily expected, but can be easily explained retroactively. “You are mindlessly idling, as of current. You plan to travel to Towa City, but have not done so yet. You have killed seventeen people directly in your time of being a Remnant of Despair, but you are growing bored.”

Despite his wide eyes and droll expression, Servant is clever enough to catch on. “You would like me to travel with you, Kamukura-kun? I warn you, I am useless in every possible way and unworthy of your presence.”

Kamukura glares at him. “I will determine that.”

“… Understood.” Servant hesitates before standing up, and there is shocking amounts of excitement in his expression. “I apologize for being overeager, I’ve never travelled with someone like this before. Someone like you before.”

“That is to be expected,” Kamukura says as he begins to walk, stepping over corpses with grace as the Remnant beside him trips and stumbles, babbling about despair and hope and talent all the way.

From there, an attachment forms. They continue to travel in this manner, relocating from place to place with little but each other’s companionship (and what they can find, in this cataclysmic scenario– assorted piles of canned vegetables and month-old water bottles). Along the way grows learning, basic answers to questions that benefit both of them only slightly, though prove to be boring, as Kamukura does not have a favorite color or movie or food. But the basis of small talk leads to a more expanded exploration of morality, of death and life and the liminality of such matters, philosophy and physics and their prediction for where the world will be.

Kamukura discovers, then, that Servant is not capable of matching him in intelligence. However, he nears close to having this ability, exhibiting his cleverness in a distinctly separate way than how Enoshima enforced her analytical prowess upon her victims. It is refreshing, to have this difference. It is refreshing, by extension, to have him.

That is how the evolution of their relationship begins.

Sexual ties between them have been present from the start. Servant is poor at concealing his overwhelming attraction to the other, and Kamukura has curiosities he was not interested in exploring with Enoshima. Thus begins tumultuous, albeit safe to an extent, exploratory intercourse, which Kamukura finds not particularly boring.

Then becomes an inherent domesticity in residing together, in sharing beds (although, Servant only allows himself to sleep beside Kamukura if he is particularly in pain, that day. Kamukura does not necessarily mind if Servant continues to sleep beside him, but it is a matter of principle that is tedious to undo, especially with no distinct want to commit effort to it). Along with sleeping together, there is having meals together, defending each other from robotic Monokumas when it becomes necessary, and even reading together.

It is all not particularly interesting. It is all not particularly boring. It exists in a grey area that Kamukura struggles to define.

He dislikes struggling.

There is a particular day, once, that he would consider lucky (were he to indulge in this thought towards Servant, the other would likely break down) due to the numerous realizations had. The primary one, and the most convoluted one by far, is the realization that he is perhaps infatuated with the other.

It comes whilst Servant is asleep, his body bare aside from the marring of bruises and hickeys, thin sheets layered in dust resting atop him. Kamukura observes him from where he sits at the edge of the bed, admiring the way the red sky highlights Servant’s body in an almost rosy way, porcelain skin glimmering with red contours that made the Ultimate Artist in Kamukura transfixed. Part of him desired to reach out and trace his body on impulse– and it would not be the first time he sought touch out of poorly placed impulse. However, he refrains.

A small part of him– a romantic, likely, in all but practice– finds that touching him may, perhaps, detract from the natural beauty he exudes. It is not like Kamukura is anything other than manmade.

This is a thought that crosses his mind often. Rather, the latter is. However, with Servant in his life as a catalyst, the frequency of such thoughts rapidly accelerates, and he finds a sense of permanence in the other. Something he is rather interested in exploring, given the time. There are many, many inquiries he would indulge in, given the time.

They are not given time.

He had prepared an injection in advance, one to make Servant unconscious for approximately 48 hours. It is enough time to execute a procedure that would remove Servant’s memories of Kamukura, a similar procedure that he will attempt to repeat on himself (he has done thorough research into lobotomies due to his experiences. Even without this research, it would not be a particularly difficult task. However, his emotions pose a hindrance). He is aware that he should inject Servant now, as, according to his predictions and intuition, he has confidence in the fact that the Future Foundation will locate them within that period of time.

He would like to evade them. He knows he is able to, that he has a capacity to outwit them, that Servant would heed every command necessary to guarantee their survival. After all, there is no certainty in the prospect that the Future Foundation would keep them alive.

Despite this, Kamukura is… curious. He is intrigued as to what the Future Foundation will do, once they capture him and Servant, and he knows that they cannot evade the Future Foundation forever. They will grow bored.

It is regrettable, he thinks as he injects Servant with the serum, stroking his hair for purely selfish purposes as he does so. It is regrettable that they did not have infinite time together. However, Servant is dying to his own illness, and Kamukura is dying, metaphorically, to the boredom that he can not fully stave away, even with his agreeable companionship. It is poetic, in the same sense, that they will be captured and perhaps be executed before they could fully breach the barrier of worship and love, something Kamukura is not certain he could attain.

In all senses, it is over, and Servant will not remember him by the time he awakes in the grasp of the Future Foundation.

(A part of Kamukura recalls their first meeting with feigned nostalgia, remnants of the emotion that must have existed before his creation, and he wonders– or, cynically, he hopes– that he may meet the other again, and finish the life they began.)

–

Komaeda rolls over and smiles, slightly sleepy. “What do you want to talk about, Hinata-kun?” After a pause, he asks, “Do you want me to leave?”

“No,” he says with a little too much force. “I’ve just had some. Things on my mind. That I want to talk about?”

It’s sort of a half-truth, because it feels wrong to say that it’s been something on his mind. Because it has been, and it has been for a while– but he hardly knows if what he’s feeling is love, if it’s worth indulging in this when he has so much to work on. If he can even be certain of his thoughts at all.

But he wants to talk to Komaeda– maybe to get perspective, and finally decide.

So, he closes his eyes and starts talking. “I was thinking about the simulation, and before. More specifically, us.”

He can hear the bitterness in Komaeda’s voice when he says, “Ah. How I betrayed and belittled you?”

“Not exactly.” But it’s part of it. “… You said in the simulation that you were in love with me, right?”

There’s a pause. One that’s long enough that Hinata almost wants to open his eyes, but he needs to isolate himself in his thoughts temporarily, dissect the words and his feelings and come to a conclusion. It’s something he’s good at (but love isn’t survival games, or class trials. If they were, he would have figured this out a long time ago, back when Nanami was still around).

When Komaeda eventually speaks, it’s brief but telling. “… Yes.”

“And. You didn’t like me much before all of that, but… as Servant, you-”

“Worshipped and admired Kamukura-kun, yes.” He sounds almost nervous. Komaeda rarely sounds like this, and it’s almost enough to stop pushing. “… Why do you ask? Don’t you already know this, Hinata-kun?”

Hinata sighs. “Yeah, technically. But I’ve been thinking about it more, and…” he opens his eyes, now. Komaeda’s face is vacant– no smile, no frown, just a straight line that wavers if he stares hard enough. His eyes are filled with emotion he can’t uncover, emotions he doesn’t want to uncover. But… he watches them carefully regardless, makes note of how they shift. “We’ve had an interesting relationship, throughout all our time knowing each other. In our one encounter back at Hope’s Peak, we didn’t get along, and things in Despair were… intimate, yet twisted.”

“That’s one way to consider it,” Komaeda says, and it isn’t quite hatred in his voice, but something close. Something Hinata knows not to take personally.

“And. I’ve been thinking about where it leaves us, now. And– I mean, it’s something in the back of my head, but not really. Filling all my thoughts? It just sort of came up while we were sitting here, before I said we should sleep, and sometimes I think about it when I’m not working around the island. So it’s sort of…” a dormant thing, has been in the back of my mind forever because I put it there, because I didn’t want to accept that I like you, because I’m too afraid and I know you are too, but there’s something about you, something about this, and I’m curious to know where it goes- “Yeah.”

Komaeda nods. “I see.”

“I think you know where I’m going with this.”

There’s a silence. Then- “I’d rather not.”

“… Rather not what?”

He already knows, but he wants to hope, wants to hope that Komaeda will allow himself this, despite everything. And yet…

… “Rather not believe what you are implying, Hinata-kun.” And the bitterness is directed at him this time, but Komaeda has always tore at him claws to hide something else, whether it be personal insecurity or infatuation or fear. Hinata thinks it might be all three, now. “You are aware of my love for you, how you could use it to your benefit, how you could disregard me and I would-” his breath catches.

“Komaeda?”

“… hardly complain,” he finishes. “I would hardly complain if you used me, because it’s you. You’re aware that you could make this so easy– and you aren’t even certain of this. I’ve been certain ever since I knew you, even when I hardly knew anything about you, even when I stayed with you to wake up on that island, I knew. But you don’t, and you could make it so easy and just give up on me, because it’s not like I would love you less or hate you more, but you’re acting on impulse. You rarely act on impulse, so why are you…”

There are tears in Komaeda’s eyes.

“… When I first met you,” Hinata starts. “I thought you were pretty. An asshole, but pretty. In despair, Kamukura was interested in you, and he was bored of everything else, even her. And he knew your worship, and that was the most boring part of you, to him, because he didn’t like being treated like a god, not by you. And… and in the simulation, I remember the betrayal I felt when I knew one of the only people I trusted turned their back on me. And- and when I saw your corpse-”

Komaeda shakes his head, but Hinata doesn’t stop. “-When I saw your corpse, I was so fucking pissed, because you’re smart and fucked up and I almost missed you that trial, despite everything. And despite everything, now when I woke you up, when I had to run into the infirmary and out of it and had to do all those fucking psychodives to get you out, I thought it was worth it.”

“Hinata-kun.”

“I thought– I knew, and I know– that you are worth it.”

And even though Komaeda’s stare is intimidating, and even though Hinata’s so uncertain of everything right now, he’s confident in that.

He’s never been more confident in anything, actually.

–

When Hinata wakes up on an unfamiliar island, with an aching head and endless questions about his surroundings, he’s greeted by a stranger, with a slight smile on their face. They had slightly tostled white hair, cloudlike and wispy, that falls just above their dim green eyes, and they have a slender yet alluring physique that Hinata almost finds pretty, in his dazed state.

After they confirm that Hinata is awake, they introduce themself. “… I’m Komaeda Nagito. Nice to meet you.”

Hinata accepts the hand he offers him and stands up, brushing sand off his pants (why are they at a beach?) and replying, “Hey, I’m Hinata Hajime.”

Komaeda leads him around the island, introducing him to all the others that had left him behind, unconscious, on the beach (he can’t really blame him. He’s still embarrassed about how he just… passed out. At least Komaeda isn’t judging him for it). He offers his own quips and commentary about the island, one Hinata finds insightful, if not slightly odd at times, and he begins to develop a trust for the other.

Sort of. Because, well, it’s not like he can really trust anyone, when they all woke up on a random fucking island with no idea of what’s going on, aside from some random shit a rabbit tells them. But, for as weird Komaeda can sometimes be and the weird situation they’re in, he establishes him as trustworthy early on. Someone to rely on, even when everything goes to hell.

(And littered in there, far enough in the back of his head that he sort of forgets about it, he is sort of infatuated with the other. In a super base way– because he’s a teenager, c’mon– but, still. Komaeda’s pretty, and he’s friendly, and he thinks there’s some significance in that.

Of course, everything changes when the first murder occurs. When the trial happens, and truths are revealed. When everything spirals downwards for the rest of their ‘island vacation’, and Hinata realizes that Komaeda should have never been trusted at all.

… But he can’t bring himself to hate him, despite everything. Even when he’s faced with his corpse.)

–

There is a long silence that fills the room, after his admission.

It’s understandable, considering that Komaeda… has never quite had anyone stay by his side as long as Hinata has. He’s probably never considered the possibility of requited love or care of anything, has never been able to reconcile with the idea that Hinata wants to stay despite the fucked-up mess of trauma and disease his brain is filled with. He probably finds himself vacant, like Hinata does, sometimes, like every quirk about him that makes him distinctive and worthy of love is completely null, and that he is cursing Hinata by being around him this long.

It’s more fucked up than Hinata can sometimes conceptualize, but. As he said, it’s worth it.

Hinata breaks the silence, knowing that he should be patient with the other, who has had his mentality partially shattered in a brief period of time, but slightly worried that the progress they’ve made would fall at a stalemate in complete silence. “… Komaeda?”

“Hinata-kun.” His voice is both empty and emotional, and it leaves an ache in Hinata’s chest. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I understand, still. I’m not…” he trails off.

“You are worth it,” Hinata insists, because he knows the way that Komaeda thinks, knows where his mind is going. “We don’t have to do anything, or be anything, if you don’t want to. I just… thought you should know, and I’ve been thinking about it a lot, so. Thought it was worth saying.”

“Worth,” Komaeda echoes quietly. His laugh is at the same volume, raspy and choked. “I… I really like you, Hinata-kun, but I can’t let you endanger yourself.”

Hinata shakes his head. “Your luck can’t affect me badly, remember? I’m lucky too.”

“It has in the past. Before you remember. When me and Kamukura-kun were together, and how bad luck and consequent good luck would follow us around. He thought it was interesting. I knew we weren’t safe. And we weren’t.” He sighs, and Hinata wants to reach out and brush his cheek with his fingertips, ensure that he isn’t just a ghost. “If I hurt you, Hinata-kun-”

“You won’t,” Hinata argues.

Komaeda raises his voice, slightly. “But if I do, then I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. Knowing that you chose to have something with me, despite all your responsibilities and all the risks I bring to you just by existing… it would kill me, Hinata-kun. I’m already dying and I’ve done it once, but… it would really, really kill me. I don’t think I would be able to lose you. I don’t…” He looks so tired.

Hinata reaches out, then, and intertwines their fingers. Komaeda doesn’t push him away, and he takes it as a good sign. “You aren’t going to lose me. And I know we can’t be certain of what’ll happen in the future, but… I think we deserve something good. So much bad shit has happened, and we’re healing and everything, but I think we also deserve to find something like… hope. In each other. Y’know? And, obviously, it’s only if you want. I’m not gonna, like, make you date me, or something.” He squeezes his hand. “But, I don’t want you to keep yourself from someone you want– something we want– out of fear. We’re not going to die, Komaeda. And even if we did… every second that led to it would be worth it.”

Komaeda’s eyes flutter shut. It hurt to see the pain in his eyes, but his scrunched eyebrows and shaky lip is almost worse. “I… I don’t know what to do.”

“What do you want to do?” Hinata asks gently.

“I…” he cuts himself off, thinking in silence as Hinata rubs circles into his palm. Eventually, his eyes open, and his expression is tentative and a bit scared, but Hinata can see some hope in it. It’s almost enough to make him smile, but he fights it off and waits for Komaeda to finish. “I… I want this. But, I don’t deserve it.”

“You want it,” Hinata reminds him softly, “and I want it. So, I think it’s okay for us to have, yeah?”

He hesitates, but eventually says, “… Maybe.”

“Maybe,” he repeats, and then he gives him a slight smile. “I can work with maybe.”

Komaeda responds with a fleeting smile, one that makes Hinata let go of his hand and tug him forward into a warm embrace. Komaeda’s face nestles into the other’s shoulder, and he can hear a muffled voice whisper, “I love you, Hinata-kun. I really do.”

A weight he thought would permanently be on his shoulders disappears, and he breathes out a long sigh of relief as he tightens his grip on Komaeda’s waist. And, with a voice that echoes himself through all of the years of knowing Komaeda, through the stress and irritation and curiosity and trust, in a journey that was just as much his as it was theirs, he says, “I love you too.”

Even after everything.

#komahina #komahina secret exchange #fanfiction

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mdzsgildedfate · 3 years

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Gilded Fate - Chapter 9

Reincarnation AU [Chapter 9/?] Characters: Xue Yang, Xiao Xingchen, Song Lan, Lan Sizhui, Lan Jingyi, Jin Ling, Original Characters. Pairings: Xue Yang/Xiao Xingchen, Song Lan/Xiao Xingchen, Lan Sizhui/Lan Jingyi, Xue Yang/OC

Is it morning already…? I need to make breakfast…

But Xingchen feels so warm… I don’t want to get up…

How late is it?

A-Qing will complain…

Xinyi opened his eyes slowly, confused to find that the room he was in was not the coffin house, and that the person he was draped over was not Xiao Xingchen. Blinking a few times, the dream quickly disappeared from his mind and he remembered where he was. Careful not to wake Chen, Xinyi slipped out from under the covers and crawled across the room to look for his robes. After looking through his pile of clothes two or three times, he finally remembered his own robes were still in Xiao Xingchen’s room.

Pulling the borrowed grey robes back on, Xinyi stepped out of the room and headed towards the courtyard. The memory of last night was muddled, the details refusing to return no matter how hard Xinyi tried. He couldn’t remember whether or not he was the one to initiate the kiss with Chen. The only thing he could remember clearly was the face of the mutilated ghost who’d chased him into Chen’s arms to begin with.

“I must really be out of my mind.” Xinyi muttered to himself, wiping the sweat from his forehead. “What am I supposed to say to him? He’s gonna hate me no matter what.”

Although it had slowed to a lazy drizzle, the rain from last night still hadn’t stopped. In the blue dawn light, only one figure could be seen standing out in the courtyard. Smiling Ghost paced slowly around the wet stonework, seeming to follow no particular path. Xinyi watched her for a few minutes, mesmerized by her aimless wandering and how her robes billowed around as though she were underwater.

Not wanting to wait around too long and risk her noticing him, Xinyi turned around and headed back into the temple. Going back to his room and facing Chen was equally unappealing, so he let his feet lead him up and down random hallways with no direction in mind. Not long into his walk, he halted at the sound of hushed, urgent voices coming from around the next corner.

“Did you find him?”

“No, he’s not in the kitchen either. Did you find Xiao Xingchen?”

“He doesn’t know where he is either.”

“So he’s definitely not in the temple then? Why would he leave without saying anything?”

Xinyi inched along the wall to the corner and peaked around, spotting Sizhui and Jingyi a few yards down.

“I’m sure it’s fine. He probably just needs a break from being around Xinyi so much.”

A break from being around me?

“You’re probably right. Jin Ling seemed so concerned about it, though.”

“Jin Ling always sounds like that. Xingchen wasn’t worried, so I don’t think we should be.”

Xinyi turned around and left the conversation behind. Nothing else made sense since arriving at the temple, he wasn’t about to let one weird comment detract from the most important thing- Song Lan wasn’t around to glare at him. If little victories were all he got now, Xinyi would take them when they came.

During breakfast, Chen had the good sense not to bring up the events of the previous night. They ate together quietly, as though nothing unusual had happened. Even as the idle chatter started to pick up, Chen spoke with a relaxed smile and a calm demeanour. Xinyi was starting to feel at ease, not even finding the will to care when Song Lan did finally enter the room. The dark robes drifted by his peripheral, but he didn’t bother to even glance over.

Xinyi’s attention drifted around the room, pausing to listen to various conversations or watch as students mingled around. As his eyes scanned over the professors at the head of the table, he noticed how none of the apprehension from earlier had dissipated from their demeanours. Only then did he realize the figure he’d assumed was Song Lan had never actually sat down.

Finally looking directly at the figure, he could see the black robes didn’t belong to Song Lan, but to a woman with kind features, lined softly with age and weariness. A small smile appeared on her face when he looked at her, though her eyes seemed full of sadness. While the other ghosts Xinyi had seen up until now filled him with some looming dread, he felt a strange sense of relief and familiarity at her presence.

The woman held his gaze, and her sad smile, for a few heartbeats before slowly trailing around the edge of the room. At the door, she paused and looked at him again as though beckoning him to follow. Xinyi looked around and quietly excused himself from the table, following her out into the hall. She walked a good distance from the dining hall before stopping to wait for him, partially hidden in the shadows.

Xinyi approached slowly, unsure of what to expect. “Wh-... Who are you?”

The hair on the back of his neck stood up. Never before had he directly addressed any of the other ghosts like this. It felt completely counterintuitive, but the compulsion to talk to her was overwhelming.

She sighed softly, looking him over. “A-Yang…”

The sound of her voice sent a chill throughout his entire body. “M-Mom…?”

How was that possible? His mom was a pale woman with chin-length, brown hair and sharp features. The woman in front of him had dark skin and long, black hair. Her features were soft and inviting and downright motherly. Most importantly, his mom was very much not dead.

“Oh, A-Yang…” The woman took a step forward, reaching her hand out to him. “My son…”

Xinyi mirrored her movements, stepping closer with one outstretched hand. “Mom…”

The tips of their fingers touched and Xinyi recoiled slightly, surprised to find that the woman had a solid form. Nothing about her indicated that she was a ghost- She bore no injuries, her skin had colour to it, and her touch was tangible and warm. With both of their hands now clasped together, tears spilled out over her cheeks and dripped from her chin.

“A-Yang… How long I’ve waited to see you…” Her shoulders shook gently.

Xinyi’s breath hitched in his chest and tears stung in his eyes. Consciously, he knew this woman was a stranger, but every fiber of his being was screaming that this was his mother, without a shadow of doubt. When she lifted a hand to his cheek, he leaned into the touch with a stuttered breath. Feeling no longer in control of his own actions. Xinyi wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her neck.

The woman didn’t hesitant to hug him back, holding him tight against her. “Oh, my dear. My A-Yang… What luck I had as a mother…”

His heart skipped painfully and tears broke out as he spoke. “I missed you...”

She pulled back just enough to look at his face, the smile having disappeared from her face. “What sin did I commit to have such a wicked child?”

“Wh-what?”

She stroked a hand over his hair, smoothing out the flyaway strands. “How was I ever supposed to love a son like you?”

“What do you mean-? I don’t understand… I-”

“If I had known how you’d turn out…” She pulled away from him, sorrow overtaking her expression. “...I would have drowned you in a river as soon as you were born.”

The comments made no sense to him- this ghost made no sense to him- but that didn’t stop the feeling that his soul was being ripped from his body. Sobs racking his body, Xinyi reached out desperately, only for his hand to now pass right through her. The more he cried out apologies and begged her to stay, the more transparent her form became. When she disappeared completely, he fell to his knees, crumpled over himself on the floor. After a few minutes, the feeling suddenly disappeared.

As though the ghostly encounter had never happened, Xinyi wiped the tears from his face and stood up. Looking up and down the hall, he was relieved to see no one else had come out of the dining hall. Before that had a chance to happen, Xinyi hurried down the hall out to the courtyard to cool off. The second he was outside, the sweat on his body instantly turned to ice against his skin. He took a deep breath of the cool air and scrubbed at his face with his sleeve, trying to make sense of what just happened.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Xinyi turned around to see Xiao Xingchen standing a ways back. “Hilarious.”

Xingchen smiled, a small chuckle shaking his shoulders. “Do you want your clothes back? Or will you wear those again?”

He followed the man back to his room, trying to memorize the route this time. Once they were back, Xingchen opened his trunk again to retrieve the robes and handed them back. On top of the neatly folded pile was some golden trinket that shined under the light from the window.

“What’s this?” He asked, holding it up to inspect it.

“A gift.” Xingchen replied, watching him carefully. “Since you gave me one, I thought it’d be appropriate if I returned the favour.”

Setting the pile down on the bed, Xinyi slipped out of the borrowed robes. “You didn’t need to, you know, and this… looks expensive.”

Xingchen helped him back into the white uniform, tying the robes in place with expert hands. “It’s not. Besides, your hair is always falling out, you need something to hold it in place.”

Xinyi laughed, turning around to face Xingchen with the trinket in his hand. “Right, for the last two days I’m here?”

The man laughed and reached up to fix Xinyi’s hair. “I wanted to give it to you sooner... “

Once his hair was tied back in place, Xingchen took the ornament and fixed it to the top of Xinyi’s head. Stepping back to examine his work, his expression faltered for a moment, as though he wasn’t entirely satisfied with what he was looking at. After a moment, he swallowed and looked away, letting the smile return to his face.

“Xiao Xingchen.”

He looked back up, not quite meeting Xinyi’s eyes.

“Tell me honestly...You know what’s happening to me, don’t you?” Xinyi stepped forward, cocking his head to try to catch Xingchen’s gaze. “You said before, the ghosts I’m seeing are attached to the objects here. Is that true? Will I stop seeing them when I leave?”

Xingchen was quiet for a moment, seeming hesitant to answer Xinyi’s questions. “That’s a difficult line of questioning to answer.”

Xinyi frowned and grabbed Xingchen’s hand. “You do know the answers though.”

“Yes.”

“But you won’t tell me…”

Xingchen took Xinyi’s other hand and sighed quietly. “No… I don’t think I should be the one to tell you… I don’t think I should even be around when it happens.”

Xinyi stepped forward and put his forehead against the man’s shoulder, letting his eyes slide shut. He felt Xingchen let go of his hands, quickly wrapping his arms around him in a tight embrace. No matter how badly he wanted to keep pressing the man with questions, he knew there was no point. He held on for a moment longer, letting himself simply enjoy Xingchen’s warmth, before moving to pull away.

Only managing to move a few inches back, Xingchen’s grasp tightened, holding him in place. He met Xinyi’s eyes finally, looking at him with a strange intensity.

“I’m sorry.” He said after a long pause.

Xinyi shook his head. “It’s fine…”

Xingchen pressed his forehead to Xinyi’s, lingering as though he was considering saying something more, before placing a soft kiss against his lips. Unlike the kiss in the river, this one wasn’t quickly cut short. Xingchen paused, momentarily hesitating, and then pressed in again with a sharp inhale. Xinyi clenched his hands around the fabric of Xingchen’s clothes, refusing to let go of him this time.

The knowledge that they’d only met a few days prior completely melted from Xinyi’s mind. Something about the kiss felt achingly familiar and sorely missed. Before he knew it, Xinyi had one arm wrapped tight around Xingchen’s shoulders and the other hand tangled in his hair. Both of Xingchen’s arms were wrapped around Xinyi’s waist, with one hand between his shoulder blades and the other at the very bottom of his lower back. The intense line of questioning from only seconds ago was quickly lost in a heat of heavy breathing and wandering hands.

Locked against each other, Xinyi stumbled back, losing his balance and bringing them both down against the bed. Xingchen broke away and stared down at Xinyi breathlessly, half-kneeling half-laying on top of him. Bringing one knee up, Xinyi pushed his thigh up between Xingchen’s legs and pulled on the collar of his robes, trying to urge the man back into the kiss. Xingchen’s eyes fluttered momentarily before he let out a breath and pulled away completely to stand up.

“Xingchen?” Xinyi questioned, unable to hide the disappointment on his face.

The man turned away, flattening out his robes. “I’m sorry. We… We shouldn’t be doing that.”

He stood back up, feeling a twinge of frustration. “What do you mean, you kissed me.”

“I know.” Xingchen looked down at the floor, a strange expression on his face. “I’m sorry, but I shouldn’t have.”

Frustration turned to hurt. Xinyi balled his hands into fists, feeling his nails cut into his palms.

“Why do you keep doing this to me?” He snapped out suddenly, feeling his eyes sting again. “You keep acting like you like me- like you care about me, but-... but why? Watching me struggle like this- Is this fun for you?!”

Xingchen gaped at him, shocked. “I-... Xinyi, that’s not-...”

“Forget it.”

Without another word, he walked out of the room and disappeared down the hall. Quickly retracing his steps, Xinyi went back to his room and threw himself down on his bed, covering his head with his pillow. It was a long time before anyone else came into the room, breaking the silence that had enveloped him. When he felt someone lay down beside him, Xinyi scrunched the pillow down harder, assuming Xingchen had followed him.

When the person didn’t say anything, he lifted the pillow up just enough to see Chen’s face staring back at him.

“You ok?” Chen asked softly, looking him over.

“I’m fine.” Xinyi replied, relaxing his grip on the pillow.

Chen pushed the pillow off him and held a hand against Xinyi’s forehead. “You’re really warm.”

“Is that your version of flirting?”

He took his hand back, looking a little guilty. “N-No… Sorry, that’s not- I just meant that you look sick.”

Xinyi put his own hand to his face, feeling a sheen of sweat on his forehead. “Mm. It’s probably just a cold from being in the river so much. It’s fine.”

Chen frowned. “Maybe… Sizhui Jiaoshou sent me to come get you, we’re supposed to go on some day hike around the mountain… But if you’re sick, you should stay here and rest.”

“I feel fine.” He sat up, shaking his head. “I don’t wanna stay here by myself.”

Ignoring Chen’s protests, Xinyi stood up and brushed himself off, flattening down his robes. Once Chen was on his feet too, he led the way out to where everyone else was waiting in the courtyard. Quickly catching up to QianHua, he gave Sizhui a wave and fell in with the rest of the group. Sizhui and Jingyi took up the head of the group and led them away from the temple, following the river path south, deeper into the valley.

“What’s up with the fancy jewelry?” QianHua asked as soon as they started walking.

“Jewelry?” Xinyi gave him a confused look.

“Yeah, that!” QianHua reached up and tapped on the ornament in his hair.

“Oh, right.” With his emotions running high, he’d completely forgotten about Xingchen’s gift. “Xingchen lent it to me when I went to get my clothes back from him. He said my hair kept falling out without it.”

“You too sure seem to be sharing a lot of clothes lately.” The other man joked, winking at Xinyi.

Xinyi rolled his eyes and turned his attention back to the trail, not wanting to think about Xingchen right now. Everyone else quickly fell silent as well as they trekked on down the path, too out of breath from the incline to chatter amongst themselves. By the time they stopped for their first break, the beaten path had long since disappeared, leaving them to rest wherever they could find space. All at once, there were students scattered across the ground, seated on rocks and leaning against trees.

Slumped with his back against Chen’s shoulder, Xinyi scanned his eyes over the group as he unscrewed the top of his water bottle. He took a few gulps, replaced the lid, and wiped a layer of sweat from his face.

Maybe I really am getting sick...

Huh, Song Lan isn’t here…? Did he still not come back…?

...No ghosts out here so far...

Maybe they really will disappear when I leave…

Xinyi thought about it for a minute and then frowned.

If that were true, Xingchen would have just said so.

Frustration was itching throughout his entire body, like ants under his skin. Xingchen had always been a little mysterious, but to outright refuse to tell him pertinent information about what was plaguing him... Xinyi shook his head and stood up, handing his water bottle to Chen.

“I’ll be right back.”

Chen started to stand, but Xinyi waved his hand at him.

“I don’t need help to take a piss.”

“Oh. Fair enough. Just be careful.”

Well past the point of which Xinyi stopped hearing the voices from the group, he continued down the gentle slope into the thicket of bushes. Whispers had begun picking up around him, albeit quiet enough that he hadn’t noticed them at first, but persistent enough to trigger a trill of anxiety. Finishing his business quickly, Xinyi turned to head back, coming to a stop almost immediately.

Circling around a cluster of trees, Smiling Ghost came into view a few yards up the hill. She looked at him curiously, her usual smile barely a whisper on her lips now. Xinyi stared back at her, feeling all the frustration of the day resurge. Contrary to his usual instinct when it came to dealing with the ghosts, Xinyi balled up his fists and walked right up to her.

“What do you want from me??” He snapped, struggling to keep from yelling. “You’re always following me around but you never say shit! Just get it over with already! Accuse me of killing you! Call me a monster! Just say something and quit following me around!”

She frowned and let her eyes lower to the ground.

“Everyone has so much to say, but no one has the balls to actually say it to my face. Is that gonna be you too?” Xinyi took another step closer. “Tell me why you’re here!”

Slowly bringing her gaze back up, she looked at Xinyi and silently mouthed something. His eyes widened, surprised that she actually responded to him. Tentatively, Xinyi reached a hand up and brushed his fingers against the fabric of her sleeve, curious to see if they’d pass through her or hit a solid form. When they did indeed pass through her, he recoiled his hand and looked back up at her face.

“Who are you?”

A small smile returned to her face.

“Say something!”

Her lips moved again, still no sound coming forth. He narrowed his eyes, watching carefully, trying to decipher what she was saying. Before he had a chance to ask anything else, the sound of leaves crunching rang out behind him. Smiling Ghost looked past him, looking equally alarmed, and vanished. With a string of curses, Xinyi spun around to see what had disrupted his interrogation.

Surprised to see a human figure moving between the trees, a sudden sense of fear fell over him. Quickly ducking out of sight, Xinyi peeked out just enough to see what was happening. The forest fell quiet and still, anxious anticipation pounding in his ears the longer it went on, before MingYue and her husky suddenly came out from a tangle of vines and fallen branches. He held his breath and watched on as she walked past his hiding spot, back up the hill towards where the rest of the class was resting.

Once Xinyi was sure she was far enough away, he let out the breath and stood up. A hundred questions had appeared in his brain, urging him to inspect the area MingYue had appeared. With that dog with her, why hadn’t he heard them coming? Why had Smiling Ghost seemed so alarmed? Why did the air suddenly smell like smoke? The rest of the area looked completely undisturbed, as though MingYue had really materialized out of thin air.

Xinyi paused, putting a halt to the onslaught of questions. Why should I care about this?

Is this really the weirdest thing going on here?

Fuck this. I’m not wasting time on this.

Quickly making up his mind, Xinyi retraced his steps up the hill and returned to the group. Everyone else was already on their feet, idling about as they waited for Sizhui to lead them forward. Chen and QianHua met him with a relieved look, as though they were worried he wouldn’t make it back before they left. He wiped a layer of sweat from his face and fell into step beside them, letting the swirl of thoughts dissipate from his brain.

The hike carried on through the valley, pausing one more time before they reached a pond where the river came to an end. Sizhui and Jingyi announced a lunch break and everyone broke into joyful chatter, instantly making themselves at home around the water. Before long, half of the students had shed the outer layers of their robes and plunged into the pool. QianHua and Chen followed suit, dragging Xinyi along behind them.

They all stripped down and, with a moment of consideration, Xinyi removed the ornament from his hair, dropping it unceremoniously into the pile of robes on the ground. He waded around the shore to sit on a rock jutting out from the pond, letting just the bottom half of his legs hang in the water. Chen came to sit beside him, abandoning QianHua to rough-house with another group in deeper waters.

“Are you feeling ok?” Chen asked quietly, putting the back of his hand to Xinyi’s forehead again.

“I’ll be fine. I am starting to get tired, though.” He replied, closing his eyes at the touch.

Chen smiled and ran his hand over Xinyi’s hair, tussling out the parts still holding together from the ornament. Xinyi matched the smile, grateful for the moment of normalcy. Xiao Xingchen was mysterious and exciting, but after everything that had happened the past few days, Xinyi was glad to be with something who made the ghosts feel less real.

~X~

Even though Xingchen had seemed unbothered by Song Lan’s sudden disappearance. Jin Ling couldn’t shake the anxiety festering in his gut. It very well may be normal for the man to wander away from the temple, but with the presence of demonic cultivation in the valley, he was becoming increasingly worried for the two fierce corpses. The only small relief he got was when MingYue returned from walking Gongzhu and could see that his spiritual dog was still at ease.

As the group settled down for lunch, Jin Ling allowed himself a brief moment to forget his worries. With Gongzhu napping in a patch of sunlight, and MingYue leaning on his shoulder, he ate his meal in peace. Sizhui and Jingyi’s soft voices beside him relaxed the tension in his neck, settling the quiet sense of loneliness he’d felt without them. Even the noisy presence of the other students around the pond didn’t irritate him like it usually would.

Between the warm weather, melodic song birds, and good company, it was admittedly difficult for Jin Ling to finally tear himself away from the scene. He allowed himself a few minutes after he finished eating to relax, and then gently pushed MingYue away so he could stand. A quick word of departure to her and the two Lans, Jin Ling called Gongzhu to his side and disappeared into the trees.

Following the path from memory, the Jin cultivator returned to the entrance of the cave filled with corpses. He watched Gongzhu carefully as they approached the opening, looking to her for any warning that the situation under the ground had worsened. Gongzhu trotted along beside him, panting contentedly as though they were on a leisurely walk. Once they reached the cave, the reason for the dog’s relaxed conduct became apparent. Whereas yesterday, the cave’s opening had been heavily decorated in camouflage talismans, there were now none. Jin Ling frowned, feeling all tension return to his neck.

Tying a robe to a nearby tree, Jin Ling careened down into the cave. As soon as his feet hit the ground, he walked straight to the tunnel and waded into the river. With a flame talisman lit, he quickly returned to the cavern that had previously held two dozen corpses; and just as expected, the room was now completely empty, cleared out of all evidence that anyone had been here. He swore loudly, kicking the nearest rock and sending it ricocheting against the far wall.

Jin Ling reached into his sleeve and pulled out Wei Wuxian’s compass. The needle spun around slowly, never pausing or jerking to spin in the other direction, indicating that whatever Yin energy had existed until now had disappeared. He slammed it shut and dropped it back into his sleeve, putting his hands on his hips and walking aimlessly about the cavern while he pondered the situation. Without the corpses in the cave, the only evidence he now had was the one walking corpse and singular iron nail he’d stashed away.

If I’d known the necromancer would cover his tracks so quickly, I would’ve taken one of the camouflage talismans as well… What the fuck am I supposed to do now? This was my one lead and now… Nothing!

Swearing loudly, he waded back through the river to the main cavern. The cave was giving away no new secrets or hints, so there was no point in hanging around. He climbed back up the rope and packed it away into his qiankun pouch. After confirming no scraps of evidence had been overlooked or forgotten in the area surrounding the cave opening, Jin Ling returned to the pond.

“Sizhui. Jingyi. Come here.” Jin Ling tapped each of their shoulders and gestured for them to follow as he moved out of earshot of the students.

“Rulan.” Jingyi replied, matching Jin Ling’s formal tone.

Jin Ling turned to face them, hands folded behind his back. “I didn’t want to say anything and add to your worries, when Wang Xinyi was a more pressing issue…”

“But?” Sizhui’s brows were already upturned with concern.

“The Yin energy I’ve been investigating in the valley.” Jin Ling spoke in a low, curt voice. “Yesterday, I found a cave nearby that was full of corpses, obscured by camouflage talismans.”

Sizhui and Jingyi exchanged bemused looks.

Jin Ling pulled the qiankun pouch from his sleeve and fished out the iron nail. “Each of the corpses had one of these inserted into their skulls.”

Sizhui took the nail, looking it over quickly, pausing when he spotted the sigil on its head.

“I was there just now, and everything’s been removed. Whoever was using the cave cleared it out after I found it.”

“Wait. Is this why you were so worried about Song Lan-?” Jingyi started, his eyes growing wide.

“Exactly. If there’s a necromancer in the valley, Song Lan and Xiao Xingchen are both at risk of being manipulated.” Jin Ling took the nail back and hid it away again. “How is Xinyi?”

Sizhui glanced back through the trees to the group, chewing his lip anxiously. “His energy is more unstable today, but he’s still behaving normally. I think the situation with him is less pressing in comparison.”

Jin Ling nodded. “Let’s head back to the temple. We’ll need to tell Xiao Xingchen about this as soon as possible.”

#xuexiao #junior disciples #xue yang #jin ling #lan sizhui #lan jingyi #xiao xingchen #mdzs #mdzs fic #the untamed #the untamed fic

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skullrock · 4 years

Text

the partners, chapter ten - Steve x Reader

chapter ten - how soon is now?

series summary: you and Steve are police apprentices at Hawkins Police Station in the fall of 1986. you get along famously, but there’s something Steve is hiding, and there is an unknown evil lurking in Hawkins. [friends to lovers, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff]

chapter summary: In the aftermath, you and Steve find comfort in each other.

warnings: swearing and an overwhelming amount of fluff

word count: 2k

a/n: here’s the Spotify playlist that goes with the series, and you can catch up here. this is it, folks. we have the epilogue left. if you stayed with me this entire time - thank you. this is my first longfic and it was a blast. thank you for the kind comments and interactions with this story. it means everything to me. one more chap to go babes. hope you enjoy this one <3

===

Steve has a lot of housekeeping to do.

He talks to your parents on a payphone at the hospital once a day. They’re in Europe and it’s taking them a while to get back, so they communicate this way. It’s awkward and weird for Steve to introduce himself, stumbling over his words – “Hi, I’m Steve Harrington. I’m your daughter’s partner. Like, at the station? But we also – we might – yeah. Anyway, she’s hurt pretty bad.” They tell him how much they appreciate him though, and he figures he’s had worse “meet the parents” scenarios before.

In between waiting to see you and sleeping on the floor, Sam Owens takes him into an empty conference room within the hospital. Steve tells him everything – the gut feeling that something was off about the Chief, the meddling of the evidence, the underground base, the bar, the building permits, everything. Owens nods solemnly as Steve speaks. It’s a lot to get through, and by the time Steve’s done explaining, his throat hurts.

“It’s taken care of,” Owens says simply, patting the top of Steve’s hand. “And we are looking into other properties to make sure they aren’t infiltrated, too.”

Steve nods. He doesn’t know if he can even trust Owens right now, but he’s too exhausted and worn to put up much of a fight.

“Are you doing okay?” Owens asks.

Steve doesn’t know how to answer. He leans back in his chair and lets out a long breath. Finally, he says, “I haven’t been doing okay for a long time.”

Owens nods sympathetically and pulls out a paper pad and pen. “We have some of the best therapists in the country, if you’d want to take a look at the programs. I’ll give you the information.” Owens pauses to write, then looks back up with a smile. “I’ll prescribe you some Ativan, too. Just to take the edge off.”

Steve nods weakly. Owens shoves the paper towards Steve who takes it and folds it into the uniform he is still wearing. He’s been asked numerous times to go home to clean and change, but he refuses, scared to lose the chance to see you if he’s gone when you wake. Owens leans back in his chair now, hands crossing over his chest. “I have something I want to talk to you about.”

Steve nods again.

“You exhibited… phenomenal skills when dealing with this case,” Owens starts. “Your attention to detail and drive to continue is something to be admired. The willpower you have and how strong you’ve been –“

“I haven’t been strong,” Steve interrupts. “I just… hid the pain very well.”

Owens shrugs. “You’re still a tough son of a bitch.”

Steve laughs.

“Your expertise is something that could really be helpful in the FBI, or CIA.”

If Steve were drinking, he would do a spit-take. “Are you serious?” he asks incredulously, leaning so far forward he almost falls out of his chair. “Me? FBI? CIA?”

“Just something to think about,” Owens says. “If you think you’re interested, give me a call. But before then….” Owens eyes shine. “We need an interim police Chief until we can get someone better in there. What do you say?”

Steve blinks. “Are you asking me to be acting Chief of Police in Hawkins?” Owens nods and Steve scoffs in disbelief. “Bullshit. I’m just a kid.”

“A kid with a hell of a lot of knowledge on all the things that have happened in this town. A kid with the will to keep going and do what’s right.” Owens sighs. “Look, you’re not going to have all the power – you’re just a sitting Chief. You’re already part of the force, so see it as a promotion. Just until we can find someone new.”

Steve swallows hard, his head racing, but he can’t help the smile that curves the ends of his lips. “Jesus.When do I start?”

He can’t wait to see his dad’s stupid face when he tells him.

===

Steve eventually does leave the hospital, because he wants to change and shower and buy you something nice. The thought didn’t even cross his mind until the Party showed up, all sporting either flowers or chocolates or movies for you. Robin and Dustin hug Steve tightly, and Steve’s eyes beam when he tells them of his promotion.

“He even said I could be part of the FBI,” Steve says lowly.

“Congrats,” Robin says. “Now please go change your clothes.”

And so he does, changing into the same outfit he wore the first time you both hung out. He grabs the most expensive bouquet at the florist, knowing full well he was about to be broke, then uses what little he has left to spare to buy you chocolates. He goes for a card but decides that he should probably use his words. Also, you probably couldn’t really read right now, what with the enormous concussion you’re sporting.

He’s sitting on the floor with the bouquet in hand – he insisted it was personally delivered – when the nurses tell him he can see you. He jumps up and pauses – his palms are sweaty, his heartbeat is through the roof, and he feels dizzy. It’s like being on a first date, or something; but he figures that’s what happens when the love you’ve been suppressing for months comes to you in one night.

You’re sitting up in bed and eating Jell-O when Steve bursts in, holding a huge bouquet of every flower known to man and a box of chocolates. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think it was Valentine’s Day.

“Hey,” you say, smiling broadly and taking him in. Last time you saw him was in a dimly lit bar lounge. He looks a lot more handsome here.

“Hi,” he says back. He stills before kicking into action, walking towards you. He awkwardly places the bouquet beside the other flowers people had brought and he sits the chocolates on your tray. “I figured maybe you’d like something that wasn’t hospital food.”

“I don’t know,” you beam. “Hospital Jell-O is pretty good.”

Steve laughs quietly as he sits on the chair next to you. You’re looking pretty rough – sporting a black eye, bruises and cuts over your face, your ribs wrapped up and your legs bandaged. Every movement hurts you and the concussion has you feeling dizzy and downright miserable. But all you did when you woke up was ask for Steve, and now he’s here. The sight of him adds ten years to your life and subsides the pain.

“You, uh,” he says. “Still look beautiful.”

You snort. “Okay.”

“I mean it!”

“Hotter than Mia Sara?”

“Always,” he grins, but it falters. “I need to talk to you.”

You put your Jell-O cup down. “Steve, we –“

“Please.”

You sigh and nod curtly. He sighs as well and runs a hand through his hair before starting. “It’s the worst feeling in the world to know that I got you into this. This was all my fault. And… and if I was just straight with you from the start, you wouldn’t be in this mess.” He swallows hard and fights off the painful feeling in his throat, signaling tears. “I was a dick. A total, complete asshole. And I don’t deserve for you to accept my apology. But I will tell you every single day for the rest of our lives that I am so, so sorry.”

“I’m not mad at you for this,” you say. “I’d die over and over again if it meant saving you and your cute ass.” You pause to let Steve roll his eyes, then continue. “I’m mad that you told me you didn’t love me. I’m mad at the mixed signals. I’m mad that you used to – you used to pick me up and twirl me, hold my hand.” You bite your lip. “Steve, you looked at me like I was the only girl in the world.”

“Because you are,” he says, reaching out and clasping your hand. “You are everything to me.”

“Then why did you say you couldn’t love me? Because you didn’t want me to get caught up in everything?” Steve nods, avoiding your eyes. You laugh. “Steve, here’s the thing. When someone loves someone, they’d go to the ends of the earth for them. When you told me you didn’t love me, it just spurred me on. It made me mad, yeah, but I still loved you. Nothing you could say could change that.” You laugh again and gesture to yourself. “Dude. I’d literally die for you. I almost did.”

Steve can’t stop the tears now, and they feel warm as they run down his cheeks. He shakes his head and squeezes his eyes shut. “I thought that if I acted like I didn’t love you, they couldn’t hurt you.”

“I understand,” you say gently. “I know. But no evil can stop love, Steve. And you’re kind of an idiot for trying to think otherwise.”

Steve laughs sadly. “Calling me an idiot, just like old times.”

You gently grab his chin and tilt him towards you. “If there’s one thing I have learned in the past – however many days I was out – it’s that you’re not an idiot, Steve Harrington.”

Steve’s eyes fall downward. “Then what am I?” he asks quietly, his voice cracking.

“You’re smart,” you start. “You’re brave. You’re strong. You’re funny. You’re caring. You’re kind. Fast learner. Wholesome. Helpful. Inspiring.” You don’t notice that you’re leaning forward until you’re right at his lips. You smile softly. “Devilishly handsome.” You rest your forehead on his, your thumb caressing his. His hand cups your face and your eyes brim with tears. “You’re incredible, Steve.”

When your lips meet, it feels like everything lost has been found. It feels like the missing pieces are finally set into place. Like the void within your chest has been filled. It’s warm, gentle, adoring. Steve’s thumb caresses your cheekbone and he melts into it, a smile forming on his lips. He feels like everything is right. He feels like he’s home.

When you part, you both can’t help the comically large smiles that form on your face. Steve’s thumb continues its course on your cheekbone as he whispers, “I’ve wanted to do that since you first walked into the station in that stupid blue uniform.”

You shake your head. “Bet you tell all the girls that.”

The next kiss is passionate, hands touching wherever they could reach. It’s intoxicating – Steve is a better kisser than you thought. Your hands tangle in his hair and you pull him towards you. Despite the dizziness in your head, you continue – it’s been entirely too long of a wait. He gets up, ready to climb on top of you, when a voice behind him shouts, “Excuse me!”

Steve whirls around and finds a nurse, arms crossed, and eyes narrowed. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Uh, I’m – helping her – with her Jell-O.”

“Helping her with something, alright,” he huffs. “Hands off. I don’t care if you’re her partner or not.”

Steve blushes deeply and you do, too, biting your lip and trying to hide your bashful smile. Steve sits again, grabbing an unused pillow on your bed and using it to cover himself. Yeah, it’s probably a bad look to get a boner when the girl you love is lying in bed, concussed and broken, but this is Steve. What can one expect? The nurse checks on your vitals and gives you some painkillers, leaving with a stern look towards Steve.

You look to him, holding his hand again. “What now?”

Steve sighs. “Now you sign about a hundred documents saying that you won’t tell anyone what you saw. And then you get better and we both go to therapy.” Steve smiles softly. “And then after that, I have a thousand dates to take you on.”

“Just a thousand?” you tease.

“I’ll take you on more if you’re good.”

There’s a comfortable silence. You both just want to be near each other, hear each other’s breath, the rustling of clothes.

“Steve,” you say quietly, playing with his fingers. “I love you.”

It’s music to his ears. Softly, he says it back. “I love you, too.”

“Partners?” you ask.

Steve smiles. “Partners.”

===

taglist: @harrington-ofhawkins @wolfish-willow @gothackedalready @m-blasterrr@sourapplebaby @harringtown @sassisaluxury @comedy-witch @peanutem@mochminnie @willowrose99 @whimsicalwoodlands @anerroroccurrrrred @marvels-gurl @willowrose99 @andyl394 @ssanjuniperoo @davnwillcome @darth-el @troop-scoop

#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things fic #my fics #the partners #the epilogue will go over a lot more of the aftermath dont worry <3 #im crying@!!!!

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