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mcntsee · 5 months

Text

Her smile

Summary: I taught you everything you know. Her words resonated through his mind. I saved you. And she had. He couldn’t deny it any longer. It’s not like he ever had; he was just too much of an asshole to admit it to her.

Warnings: A little bit of angst, but mostly fluff. Good ending (maybe…). Violence, blood, etc… There’s a little of Kaz’s backstory mentioned, but it has slight changes. I think a curse word here and there, I can’t remember. This was a little bit rushed, so expect grammatical mistakes. One or two uses of “Y/n”.

Quick clarifications: Y/n is a year or two older than Kaz, not more. This is kind of written from Kaz’s point of view. You get a glimpse of his thoughts, which are in italics. You might also see the constant use of the word “ja”, that was just me trying to add a little Kerch touch to the story. ( Ja = Yes. )

Author’s note: I am still trying to figure out this new writing style, but actually really liked how this turned out. I tried not to make Kaz that ooc, but I’m unsure of whether I succeeded or not. Comments are extremely appreciated!

* ੈ✩‧₊˚

Keep running. That was the only thing Kaz could think of. Run or be caught and end up like Jordie. So he ran. He ran, and kept running until his legs gave out. Get up. Keep running. But he couldn’t.

The temperatures were dropping, he had cast off his wet pants, but his shirt still clung to him, reminding him of the dew-laden grass back in Lij that would stubbornly stick to his bare feet. I need a different shirt.

As he gasped for breath, contemplation filled the moment, presenting an opportunity to plan his next move. Though he knew some clothing stores were open, the absence of funds and a nagging doubt lingered – in Ketterdam, who would spare a glance for a kid in drenched clothes?

I could bite another kid. He thought, but he knew the chances of acquiring more clothing items out of acting like a rabid dog were slim. Moreover, he pondered the peculiarity of another child rummaging through the barrel at this hour. Think, Rietveld, think.

A moving shadow caught his attention from the corner of his eye, triggering the instinct to flee from potential danger. Yet, just as he prepared to sprint, he discerned the diminutive size of the shadow, halting him before he could take off. They can’t be much older than me.

To his credit, it had seemed like a brilliant plan. Biting the other kid had secured him a new pair of pants, albeit snug in certain areas craving more breathing room. Regardless, they were dry.

Why, then, should he have anticipated the petite shadow to swiftly twist his arm at an angle before the opportunity to enact his rabid dog performance even arose?

“I haven’t seen you around before.”

Kaz had expected the shadow to be many things, a girl, however, had not been one of them. Jordie would have died laughing if he saw this.

“Cat ate your tongue?”

“It did not. No.”

“There you go. What business?”

He had heard that question before – in the alleys, the pleasure houses, along Geldstraat, Jakob Hertzoon.

“No business.”

With a huff, the mysterious girl relinquished her grip on his arm and nudged him with a push. Run, Kaz. Run. But something else in him had told him to stay.

“What is it that you want then, …-“

“Kaz.”

“What do you want, Kaz?”

Multiple answers ran through his head, all of them something that he desperately needed- Jordie, my da, money, food, Hertzoon. “I want a dry shirt.”

“Is that why you’ve been scaring kids off?”

“You’ve been following me.”

“Can you blame me? You caught the attention of a lot of people after biting the kid.”

Admittedly, he was aware of the fact that it had not been his brightest idea, but he was desperate.

“I suppose I could help. Wait here.”

And just like that, she was gone. Not even leavening the sound of her footsteps behind. She won’t come back. Ignoring his mind, he decided to wait. Wait and hope that she would return. Hope is dangerous. Still, he waited.

Not long after, a whispered “Kaz!” was heard from the shadows. “Come here!”

And went he did. His gaze jumping from corner to corner, trying to figure out why the mysterious girl suddenly had the urge to whisper.

“Here you go.”

“Wha- Where did you get this from?”

“That store over there.”

“I don’t have money to pay you back.”

“Pay me back? It was free.”

Free? He doubted that. Ketterdam did not seem like the place where free clothes were handed out to kids in need. So, how did she get a free shirt? Oh.

“You stole it?”

“Ja.”

“How?”

“You really are new here, huh?”

* ੈ✩‧₊˚

“Jakob Hertzoon?”

“That’s what I said, ja.”

“No clue. Never heard that name before.”

How could she possibly not know Hertzoon when she knows everyone in this forsaken city?

“He is a scammer. A thief.”

“You are going to have to be a little more specific than that, Kaz.”

“Old, average height, beard.”

“Sounds to me like everyone else in Ketterdam.”

Great. He had truly believed that she would be able to help him find Hertzoon, but it seemed like luck hadn’t been on his side for a while now.

“Anyone you can think of?”

“No, not really.”

“He has a daughter. Saskia.”

And he assumed that was the key detail she sought because the moment the name escaped his lips, she froze. Maybe luck is on my side.

“Red ribbon girl?”

“Yes!”

“Oh, Kaz…”

Maybe luck is not on my side.

“What?”

“There is no Jakob Hertzoon.”

He hated her. So much. No one believed him, and just when he thought he could trust someone again, she went and crushed it like it was nothing.

“There is.”

“No, Kaz-“

“Why won’t you believe me?”

He felt like crying. He felt betrayed. The same way he did the day Jordie had him climb up to the window to peek inside, only to find that Hertzoon was gone. That they had been betrayed.

“I do believe you.”

“Then-“

“That’s not his name.”

“He said it was-“

Oh. You idiot. Of course that was a lie too.

“The person you are looking for is Pekka Rollins.”

Pekka Rollins.

* ੈ✩‧₊˚

Since that day, Kaz had remained by her side, recognizing that an ally in an unfamiliar city was preferable to navigating it alone.

“And you are doing this because…?”

“None of your business.”

“All of my business, Kaz.”

In moments like this, Kaz found himself longing for the chance to rewind time, back to the day they met, and enact his plan of biting and escaping.

“I want to do something nice for someone.”

“Mmh. What you’re trying to say is that you fancy someone, ja?”

“Ja.”

Once again, that stupid smile adorned her face. However, he comprehended the reason behind her teasing. After all, he had been seeking her assistance to conquer his phobia throughout the entire past week.

“Of course I’ll help you, Kaz. You just need to wait a week.”

“Why?”

“The old man wants my help in some stupid job.”

“What job?”

“I’m just meeting with some contractors, nothing fun.”

Initially intending to wait, he seized the chance when an opportunity unexpectedly presented itself.

It started off small, with him merely removing his gloves for brief intervals, but soon he opted to take it a step further.

Had he waited a mere couple of hours, perhaps he wouldn't find himself holding an ice pack to his left cheek right now. Unfortunately, impatience got the better of him.

Believing that taking on a job without his gloves was a clever shortcut, he hadn't anticipated Borj assigning him the task of restraining someone.

It had been too much, too fast, forcing him to release the individual. He had inadvertently granted someone an escape opportunity, all because of a girl.

“Kaz.”

Run. Hide. Yet, after the brutal beating he endured, he lacked the strength for either option.

“Kaz.”

“What?”

“What happened?”

Despite the strong urge to snap at her, to demand solitude, he found himself disheartened and in pain. So he told her everything.

“Where’s Borj?”

“Don’t know. Don’t care.”

But apparently, she had cared because as soon as those words escaped his lips, she was on her feet and walking away from him. You are weak, Brekker.

Not long after she left, a commotion outside caught his attention. Initially inclined to ignore it, given the commonality of fights in the barrel, he changed his mind upon recognizing her voice. Rising to his feet, he went in search of her.

"Does it make you feel powerful, Borj? Stronger, or better than everyone else?”

There she stood, an accusatory finger pointed and rhythmically striking Borj in the chest.

“Does beating a kid make you feel like you matter?"

"Get out of here before I beat your ass too, kid."

But defiance laced her words as she challenged, "Try me."

And try he did.

That marked the final encounter Kaz had with Borj.

Of course, that's excluding the occasion when she assisted him in tracking down Borj, enabling him to exact his own revenge.

* ੈ✩‧₊˚

“Breathe, Kaz.”

“I am.”

“You are not.”

He truly wasn’t. Despite an hour of attempting to crack the lock, he couldn’t find the pressure point she kept talking about.

“Stop.”

“No, I almost got it.”

“Stop.”

With a sigh, the lock picks he had previously been using clattered on the table, his gloved hand reaching up to rub at his temples in frustration.

“If you keep jabbing the lock picks in, you won’t be able to find where to push down on.”

This was a stupid idea. He had witnessed her effortlessly open various locks within seconds and believed that asking her to teach him was a brilliant plan.

It wasn't her fault, really. He simply had a tendency to get frustrated when things didn't unfold as he intended.

The fact that he was embarrassing himself in front of her wasn't helping in the slightest either. How was he supposed to steal her heart if he couldn’t even learn to pick a lock?

But then she flashed that smile, and everything seemed to get better.

“Here, let me show you again.”

* ੈ✩‧₊˚

“Aim higher.”

“I can’t aim any higher unless you want the bullet to- hopefully, hit a bird.”

With a sigh, she stepped closer to him, her hand extending.

“May I?”

A nod of his head was all she needed before she carefully grabbed his arm, pushing it slightly upward.

“There. Try again.”

A single shot echoed through the air and this time, unlike the many others, the bullet hit the mark.

“Attaboy.”

And, saints, if he hadn’t been smiling already because of his success, he knew he would've struggled to suppress the grin that would've undoubtedly appeared on his face at the sight of her twinkling eyes and smile.

* ੈ✩‧₊˚

“Please just go.”

“I won’t until you tell me what’s wrong, Kaz.”

What isn’t wrong?

“I won't be able to fix all of your problems, but you'll never have to face them alone.” With those words, she stepped closer. His breath caught, his body responding as it always did. His stomach churned, hands trembling, and sweat starting to form on his forehead. “I may not have all the answers or solutions, but I do have all the time in the world for you.”

I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. Who exactly was he thinking about, he wasn’t sure. For all that mattered, it could’ve been her, Jordie, or even Pekka- again. But most of all, he detested what he’d become.

I hate you, Rietveld.

“It's alright if things are going differently to what you had planned, Kaz.”

But it isn’t.

“It's alright if your life is taking turns you never could've predicted.”

It has for a while now.

“It's alright if you're feeling overwhelmed.”

I am. Constantly overwhelmed with dreams and hopes that I just can’t pursue. I am not strong enough.

“Kaz, there is no rulebook for existing.”

I wish there were.

“Watching you move through life with your head held high and your strength radiating, even on the tough days, has been such an eye-opening and inspiring experience.”

But it was fake. He was not strong. He was scared.

She could sense the turmoil inside his mind. She didn't need to hear it to understand the dark narrative he was weaving for himself. The destructive lies his brain was pleading with him to believe.

“I can't protect you from everything,” another step closer, “but I'll do my best to make sure you're safe.”

Soon, she had reached his bed, and with a subtle nod, he silently granted her permission to sit beside him, his gaze still fixed downward.

“I trust you, with the entirety of my heart.” Carefully, she lifted her arm, waiting for his response. Anticipating him to tell her to stop, expecting him to push her away as he always did.

But this time, he didn't. He inhaled deeply and, with deliberate effort, raised his body off the bed using his arms, moving closer to her.

He could feel the heat radiating from her, even at a distance. He could feel her warmth, and he longed for it. He yearned to draw nearer.

He longed to break down and cry, wishing for her embrace to envelop him. Imagining her tender hand soothingly moving up and down his back while he heard the gentle thumping of her heart.

“I hope you never forget that I believe in you. Wholeheartedly. With every fibre of my being.”

In that moment, he let his eyes brim with unshed tears, and for once, he allowed someone to see it. His gazed slowly moved up from the ground, halting at the sight of her face, and then delicately tracing down her features, pausing at the captivating allure of her smile.

And for the first time ever, he allowed himself to fall into her welcoming arms.

* ੈ✩‧₊˚

“How did you do that?”

“What?”

“The pen thing.”

“Magic.”

“Teach me.”

For the first time ever, she was asking him to teach her something. He never thought this moment would come. He had believed that there was nothing she didn’t know how to do.

Yet, here she was, seeking his guidance to unravel the secrets of a magic trick. A small shift, perhaps, but an unexpected and welcomed turn nonetheless.

“A magician never reveals his secre-”

“Oh for Saint’s sake, Kaz.”

“All right, all right.”

Saints. That smile.

* ੈ✩‧₊˚

“You are not thinking clearly, Brekker.”

“I’m thinking clear enough to know that you are not helping.”

She is right. Deep down he knew that. She is always right. But today, he wouldn’t accept it.

He had a solid plan. The only issue was that the blueprints he had acquired were not up to date, and the building he was meant to be in was old.

“You are going to get yourself killed, Kaz.”

“So what?”

Numerous opportunities for death had come his way, but it hadn’t claimed him yet. So, what was another risk going to do? If he was meant to die, he would.

“If you don’t care, I do.”

“Ja?”

“Ja.”

Of course, she cares. Yet, he wasn’t about to abandon his plan that easily. Unless she had a better one, he wasn’t going to heed her advice any longer.

“Let me go in.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Listen to me-“

“No.”

He was reckless, yes. But not reckless enough to send her into the building. He knew the risks, and he wouldn’t take the one that could potentially lead to losing her.

His chair was suddenly yanked back from his desk. In an instant, he found himself pinned to the wall, her foot next to his shoulder, blocking him from moving the chair back to its original place.

“If you won’t listen, I’m going to make you listen.”

Kaz's face suddenly reddened, the close proximity and her position evoking an unexpected sensation within him.

Saints.

"If you go in there and something happens, we both know you won’t be able to make it out." she stated firmly. “This is not the way to take down Rollins.”

He was in no position to deny it. He wouldn’t make it out, that was for sure. His leg had been bothering him for the last month, which had also made him slower. Made me weak.

“I can. You know I can.”

With a swift move of his leg, he hit hers, causing her to fall to the ground sideways. This gave him the perfect opportunity to stand up.

Just like she had, he positioned his foot right next to her shoulder and leaned down, close enough so that their faces were almost touching.

“Not so fast now, are you?”

“Asshole.”

Help her up. But he resisted the urge to. Instead, with their faces so close, he said, “If risking your life to prove that you’re better is what makes you leave me alone, then do so.” And with that, he moved.

Her face displayed fury, brows furrowed, mouth in a thin line. But, he didn’t care enough to spare her a second glance. Instead, he sat back down on his chair and moved it back to his desk.

“You would be nothing without me, Brekker.”

“I disagree.”

“I taught you everything you know.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, darling.”

“I saved you. Don’t forget that.”

And just like that, she was gone, leaving nothing but the echo of a slammed door behind.

* ੈ✩‧₊˚

I taught you everything you know. Her words resonated through his mind. I saved you. And she had. He couldn’t deny it any longer. It’s not like he ever had; he was just too much of an asshole to admit it to her.

No. No, no, no! He refused to accept that it was over. That she was gone, vanished in the blink of an eye. That she had died believing that he was ungrateful. Believing that he hated her.

He could never hate her; he loved- loves her. I love her.

Run. That was the only thing Kaz could think of. Run or risk her dying. So he ran. He ran, and kept running until his legs screamed at him to stop. Don’t stop. Keep running. And he did.

He ran until he reached the remnants of the building she had been in. The building I let her go into.

"Help!" he yelled at the rest of the crows, hoping they would start running and come to help him find her.

Dig. Dig. Dig, and keep digging. he urged himself, desperation mounting. Every rock he picked and discarded elsewhere only revealed more rocks underneath. No sign of her. Dig until your hands bleed.

It felt like an eternity before Jesper yelled at them, “She’s here!” Before Jesper even had the chance to finish what he was saying, Kaz had already gotten up and started running towards him. “Where?”

“Where, Jesper, where?”

Kaz’s gaze trailed along the path indicated by Jesper’s finger, only to find a bloodied hand underneath the rubble. No, no, no.

He swiftly dropped to his knees, fervently tossing rocks in all directions. Keep digging, were the only words in his mind.

Kaz could hear the sound of his gloves ripping, but in this moment, he paid it no mind. He persisted in his efforts until her top half emerged from beneath the rubble. “Darling?”

He could feel the ghosts of his past clutching at his back, attempting to drag him under the water. But he couldn’t let them. He wouldn’t.

Come on, Rietveld. His hands were shaking, and he could hear his friend calling his name, asking him to move aside, to allow them to pull her from beneath the rubble, but he ignored it.

He couldn't bear the thought of living without her by his side, without her guiding him through everything he longed to learn.

He couldn’t fathom the thought of never seeing her eyes sparkle or living without ever hearing the sound of her voice, the resonance of her laughter.

He couldn’t imagine a world where her stupidly beautiful smile never graced his sight again.

With shaky hands, he seized her from underneath the shoulders and pulled.

* ੈ✩‧₊˚

Three fractured bones, two dislocated joints, a canvas of cuts and bruises, and head trauma.

That’s what the medik had told them. Those were her injuries. Injuries caused by my stupidity.

She must’ve been anticipating the collapse and realized that escaping in time was impossible. The medik also conveyed the belief that the position she deemed safer to take had ultimately saved her life. Smart girl.

To him, witnessing her so unnaturally still was a disconcerting sight, one he never wished to experience again.

In the time they had known each other, Kaz had only seen her injured three times, including this incident. Ironically, each of those three instances where she got hurt was somehow connected to him.

“Brekker!”

“Ja?”

“I’m going to murder you.”

He could see the fury in her eyes, and for a second, he entertained the thought that she might actually kill him.

He was well aware that he was breaking every rule she had set up for him. These rules were not akin to the ones parents give their children – no candy after seven, brush your teeth before bed, and so on. No, these rules, according to her, had been crafted to keep him safe, to keep him alive.

But he just couldn’t stop thinking about Rollins. He understood that venturing into the Dime Lions' turf was risky, downright foolish. However, he felt compelled to get a closer look at him, to learn everything about him in order to destroy him, to make him pay.

“One rule, Kaz. One rule.”

He was slightly surprised at how quickly she had found him. It hadn’t been that long, perhaps just an hour, including the time he spent walking from the Slat to the Emerald Palace.

“I’m fine!”

“You won’t be once I lay my hands on you.”

“Is that a threat?”

“It’s a promise.”

He knew she was furious; he could see it in her eyes. He had observed that whenever a surge of anger swept over her, an intense glare would manifest, with a sharp focus on whatever had incited her wrath- in this case, him.

Her pupils would also dilate, at times with rapid changes in size, set against narrowed eyelids.

But still, he could sense her smile attempting to break through the anger. He watched as she fought against it, resisting the grin that sought to make its way to her face.

“Come here, you tall idiot.”

He had finally reached that age when it felt as if one night he went to bed shorter than her, only to wake up the next morning towering over. He liked it.

“Coming.”

What neither of them had been expecting was the shot that rang out as soon as he stood by her side.

Quickly and without thinking, he took her arm and pulled her behind the wall, providing them with a safe place to hide.

“That was close.”

“Kaz-“

“Come on, we have to go.”

“Kaz.”

Before he even had the chance to fully turn around, he heard the distinct sound of a body hitting the ground. When he saw her, he felt like he was trapped in a dream. Or rather, a nightmare.

He could hear her choking, struggling to breathe, gasping for air as her lungs filled with her own blood. He could see her desperately holding her neck, applying pressure in a futile attempt to staunch the flow.

He could see the pool of blood forming underneath her. Not just any blood, but her blood. “No.”

It had been nothing short of a miracle that he had the strength to drag her all the way back to the Slat without passing out himself.

By the time they made it back, she had lost all the color in her face. Her once pink lips were now tinted with her own blood. Her body had begun to grow colder, and his clothes were completely ruined.

The doctor had advised him not to hope for anything. He told him to adhere to the harsh reality that there was nothing more the doctor or anyone else could have done for her. That she might not make it through the night, or wake up.

“Kaz.”

“She will.”

“Hope is dangerous in the barrel, kid.”

“She will wake up.”

“Kaz?”

“She has to.”

And she had. So why won’t she wake up now?

“Kaz!”

“What?”

And just like that, he was snapped back from his memories, and reimbursed in reality.

“You need to eat something.”

“I’m fine.”

“You haven’t eaten a thing since…”

“Since the day she almost died because of me. Go on, Inej, you can say it.”

Inej’s gentle exhale echoed as she delicately set down what he assumed was a plate with food, before leaving. Her steps quiet enough for the subtle sound to blend seamlessly with the room’s stillness.

He permitted his thoughts to return to their previous dwelling as soon as the door clicked shut behind Inej.

Growing up with Y/n at his side was a privilege he didn’t often acknowledge. “I’m sorry I have taken you for granted.”

He meant it from the bottom of his cold heart when he said, “I genuinely know I wouldn’t be the person I am today if it wasn’t for you.”

The fondest memories etched in his heart were those shared with her, doing whatever they had been doing. He cherished every moment they spent together, even if he didn’t show it at the time.

I want to keep creating memories with you.

“Seeing you happy make my heart smile.”

It did, truly.

“There is nothing more that I want than to see you live the beautiful life you deserve.”

He couldn’t even remember the amount of times she had helped him. With anything and everything.

“Please wake up.”

* ੈ✩‧₊˚

He succumbed to nourishment under the watchful eyes of Inej and Nina, relenting only after their threats to stabilize his racing heart and administer sustenance while he was unconscious.

Immobile, he had lingered by her bedside without the slightest shift since the day he carried her back from that ill-fated job.

It felt like it had been ages before his breath caught as he saw her stir, a subtle movement that held the weight of an entire universe of emotions. Her eyes fluttered open, meeting his.

“Y/n.”

In that instant, her radiant smile graced his world once more. He had yearned for this moment, the warmth of her smile rekindling a flame in his heart.

He didn't resist this time. All pretense crumbled, revealing a genuine smile on his face, a rare sight that echoed the warmth he felt in his heart.

“I am sorry.”

“Kaz-“

“No. You deserve this. You deserve an apology.”

Slowly, he moved closer, his bare hand extending toward hers. Unexpectedly, there was no tremor, no unsettling unease in his stomach, and the haunting echoes of the past seemed momentarily muted. It was a rare instance where Kaz felt a measure of control over his thoughts, his body, and the outreached hand.

“You saved me countless times, in ways beyond measure. Over and over again. You’ve saved me in more ways than anyone could ever fathom.”

She saved the shivering kid that had crawled out of the harbor. She provided refuge and became an ally.

“You gave me a chance. You gave Jordie a chance.”

She gave him control—over his body, over his fear. She provided him with armor when he needed it the most. A second skin—the gloves that would later weave a legend around him, making people fear him.

“You gave me peace.”

Throughout it all, she never gave up. Standing by his side for hours on end, teaching him the essentials of survival and imparting the knowledge crucial for his survival. And, not just that, she taught him everything he longed to learn. Things that had ignited the curiosity of a kid.

Over and over again, she defended him when he was too weak to defend himself. She shielded him from everything and everyone, regardless of the consequences.

“You stood by my side and never left. Even when I begged you to.”

She imparted the skills of combat, manipulation, and information extraction. She taught him the art of thievery and pickpocketing.

She nurtured him with care, ensuring his well-being in a world that often demanded too much. She prepared his favorite meals and gently reminding him to take breaks, to rest.

“You keep me young, healthy. Powerful.”

She offered him her shoulder to lean on when the burden became too heavy, not just once but repeatedly. Through it all, never once did she judge.

She was there for him, patiently listening to everything he had to share—plans, troubles, the past, the present, and the future. Through it all, she sat beside him and listened.

“You have grounded me on so many occasions and guided me towards a better life and a happier heart.”

She made his heart feel like it was beating again, as if it had come back to life. As if Kaz Rietveld had not quite died, but instead merged with Brekker and came out only with her.

“You are the most amazing person I have ever met. I am always in awe of your kindness and compassion for those around you.”

Growing up next to her had been nothing short of magical.

She's the anchor in his chaos, the silent strength in his storm, the guiding light through the murky waters. And despite the irritation she causes every now and then, he wouldn't have it any other way.

She was the one he wanted to love. Freely and without fear of what might happen. He wanted to love and be loved by her. He wanted to be by her side every second of the day.

He wanted to make her smile all the time. He needed to see her smile.

“I-“

Come on, Kaz. He wanted to tell her. He needed to let her know. He wanted to unravel the feelings he had kept hidden for far too long. “I-“ It was time to break free from the armor he wore, allowing himself to embrace both the love and the pain that might come with it.

“You…?”

“I love you.”

And in that moment, her smile was the only affirmation he needed, telling him that he had chosen the right words.

“I love you too, Kaz.”

Ghezen, that fucking smile.

#six of crows #kaz brekker x reader #six of crows x reader #fanfiction #fluff #kaz brekker #angst

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wood-white-writer · 1 year

Text

"In the Land of the Blind" [Chapter VII]

"In the Land of the Blind, the One-Eyed Man is King"

Pairing: Silco x Toxicologist!Reader

Summary: In which Silco makes a profound discovery

Read the AO3 version here | > Chapter VIII

You’re already headed for The Last Drop the day after, with half a plan and a bottle of venomous secretions tucked safely in your pocket. There’s no way of knowing how tonight is going to turn, and you’ll rather take on the risk of death by toxic inhalation than whatever Silco might inflict if he registers this as potential insubordination.

It’s barely been months since Vander kicked the bucket, yet the changes around the Undercity are already making headlines at this point. Carriages pass you by, as do the masses. No doubt the work of the Chem-Barons, who perceives this development as advantageous to their overall influence.

The bar, which previously served as a beacon of the underground, has since been lit up with neon signs that make epileptic seizures probable, and outside of its grand entrance stands two bouncers fit for the role of both the welcoming committee and the warning crew. You’ve seldom indulged in visits to the establishment, less so since the decline of the Hound, but even less now with all these recent developments. Death visits these streets more frequently now that there’s no guard dog to keep watch.

As soon as you approach the entrance, the bounces are quick to evaluate you. Granted, you probably stand a sore thumb by comparison to their usual guests, with your mundane clothing and lack of shimmer intoxication, but that does little to decrease their reservations. If you’re not here for pleasure, you’re here on business, and one might argue that the latter serves as the more dubious alternative.

“Just here for a drink,” you brief them, hoping that they’re not going to ask any questions.

The bouncers turn to look at each other, a non-verbal exchange passing between them before they finally grant you entrance.

The life of the underground is presented in front of you via drinks, partying, and questionable substances of variable nature. The music blasts its way through your eardrums, threatening to combust them with the sheer volume alone. Oh, you miss your clinic already, but you’re not turning back. Not yet.

Yeah, The Drop has changed since you last passed through these doors. Vander’s Drop was more of a tavern, with a serene and calm atmosphere to accommodate its patrons. This is the pinpoint definition of a hellhole, for a lack of better phrasing. There’s dancing, there’s sex, and there’s even the occasional shimmer injection in the far corner of the bar, yet none seem to register these acts as potentially dangerous. To them, this is the way things have always been.

Normal .

“Damn,” you murmur to yourself, your voice falling short against the reverberating music. With a defeated shrug, you push your way through the crowd, evading the party members as you walk. Some take offense to your opposition whereas some leave you be as you are. Either way, you successfully get to the front counter of the bar with all of your limbs intact.

The bartender is quick to turn to you. He’s younger than you are, and the light in his eyes suggests he has yet to lose his blissful naivety, even for his age. That’s a rare thing to come across, especially nowadays. Maybe it’s for the best, or maybe there’s an explosion waiting to happen once the truth slaps him in the face. Either way, it’s none of your concern as far as you make it so.

You seat yourself atop a chair in front of the wooden counter, but don’t say a word before he opens up the possibility of conversation.

“So, what can I get y-”

“I wanna talk to your boss,”

He freezes like a deer in headlights, fumbling with a half-cleaned tumbler in his hands as he musters a response. “I- Uhm, Sevika isn’t-”

“I’m not talking about Sevika,” you incline your head to the staircase leading up. “I’m talking about the Eye himself. He occupied?”

“I- I wouldn’t know.”

“Of course you wouldn’t.” You almost feel sorry for the sod. He doesn’t grasp quite how serious him being here is, and you can’t blame him. What better way to make your usefulness profitable than serving drinks to the kings, and simultaneously maintaining your anonymity? Maybe anonymous doesn’t quite fit the description, but no one is going to question a bartender without reason.

“While I wait for him to be available, make me an Old Fashioned?” you offer with the auspicious wave of your hand.

“I- I’m not sure when-”

“Thieram, stop being such a pussy and make the goddamn drink already.” Sevika orders as she positions herself on the seat a few feet from yours, a bottle of hard liquor already tightly attached to her good hand. On cue, the guy is quick to scramble up the necessary ingredients to concoct the beverage.

You scoff, feeling the weight of the vial play in your left hand as you consider your current circumstances. With the flick of your finger, you can make the entirety of this establishment drop dead on your command. The Last Drop Dead would’ve been their next name. “I suppose you’re the woman I need to refer to to get to him.”

“He’s busy with one of those topside lickspittles,” she grumbles sourly under her breath, her voice almost drowned by the background of the bar as she swirls the bottle in her grip. “He’s almost done.”

“Hmm.” You glance at her left hand, which rests concealed beneath the comforts of her poncho. “Are the painkillers effective?”

“Huh?” For a moment, she looks confused. Then, her trail of thoughts merges with your own and she shifts to her artificial arm. “Oh, right. Yeah, they’re useful, I guess. It doesn’t … itch anymore.”

“Good.” Just as you finish your response, Thieram places your drink in front of you. To be honest, it doesn’t look quite as … appealing as the kind Vander used to make, but as long as it contains alcohol in its list of primary ingredients, you’re appeased with ingesting it. You do, and its warmth burns down your throat like wildfire in a vast forest. Makes your predicament all the more manifested, somehow.

Long story short, it tastes like absolute horseshit.

Sevika turns her head to you before swinging the bottle to take a proportionate gulp of her own liquor. It doesn’t lessen her mood, but she forces it down with a surprisingly stoic disposition. Half of it, in fact. However disgusting it tastes, her mood outweighs its bitterness by tenfold. “What do you even wanna talk to him about anyway? Any chemical troubles we should be aware of?”

“One of your colleagues has been making hell for the workers at Babette’s.”

She is quick to cease her drinking, and a look akin to murderous adorns her marred face. “Who?”

“A bouncer named Dex,” you supplement, placing the tumbler back down with a firm thud. “He made a mess of their receptionist. A young girl, hardly old enough to make a decent worker. He’s due several ribs. Maybe a few additional bones to throw in the lot.”

“Nellie?” you glance up at her, curiosity riddling your face. Sevika’s face is surprisingly abysmal, and the need for adequate compensation shows clear as day. “That fucker went for her?”

“You know her?”

“She… She’s a good kid. Not the brightest bulb in the tanning bed, but she’s good.” You can tell that the look in her eyes reveals sincere concern. Sevika heaves a hard sigh as her face crumbles against her fist on the counter. “Did he do anything to her?”

“A broken nose and a few bruised ribs from what I could gather, but she’ll be fine. He didn’t touch her if you get what I’m saying. Not for a lack of trying though.” The grip around your glass tightens to the point where cracks almost establish themselves on the rims. “He will get what’s coming for him. With or without Silco’s aid.”

Sevika doesn’t seem to oppose the sentiment, but her obligations are another matter. She has responsibilities seeing it as she’s one of Silco’s primary workers. She’s valuable. You’re not. If she can’t see this through, then you will, and it doesn’t take a genius to know that you’re capable of it.

You don’t have anything keeping you back. No family. No allies. No nothing. You’re only putting yourself on the line, and it doesn’t appall you as much as it should.

After a few moments, she peeks a glance up the staircase. “You can probably go up there now, just make sure that you knock first. He doesn’t like being interrupted.”

“Is that a fact?” You stand up from your seat, searching your other pocket for a few coins to grant the poor bartender. They make an impact against the counter with a clank, and a few even dare to roll against the edge. Thieram makes no move to collect them at first. “Thank you for the warning.”

“Hey, doc.”

“What?”

She holds up her bottle to you, a sign of begrudging respect. “Make him pay real fucking good.”

You say nothing, but your intent is clear with tilt of your head before you make your way up the stairs.

The corridors on the second floor are lacking, void of neon signs displaying “SILCO’S OFFICE”, but it somehow affirms that you’re on the right path. It’s quiet, even with all the background noise. Eerie.

As you’re about to pass a seemingly standard door, it slams open with a firm hand, and a man wearing the gear of a Piltovan enforcer exits. You halt in your steps just as your respective paths are about to intertwine, and he does the same. Just by looking at you, you can tell he’s disgusted, the premature wrinkles on his otherwise youthful face making it obvious to anyone with the gift of sight.

“Get out of my way, gutter rat!” he orders and grasps at your shoulder, but you won't budge at first. He tries again, more forceful now than before, but your only response to this is to provide him an acidic scowl.

“Let her be, Marcus.” Silco’s cool voice from within his office speaks. “I would advise against exasperating her.”

This enforcer – Marcus – begrudgingly removes his hand. Whatever’s been discussed in the office has not earned him any favors. With one last glare, the sharp heels of his feet announce his departure down the staircase, and you can’t help but glare at his descent. The Undercity’s disdain for enforcers is something you share with the crowd, but not without reasons.

“You are welcome to enter, you know. Or do you intend to linger instead?”

For its clear tone, Silco’s voice doesn’t leave much room for opposition. Heaving a deep breath, you decide to enter, shutting the door behind you.

For all his dealings, Silco’s office doesn’t strike you as suspicious in any way or fashion. It’s clean, it’s neat. Fit for a businessman in every sense of the word. Even has its own view. However, there’s the unmistakable atmosphere of something sinister lurking about, and it’s almost enough to make you second-guess your visit for just a split second.

You’re standing in dangerous waters now, and if you don’t tread carefully, the shark in the abyss will swallow you whole. Bones, flesh, blood, everything will be gone, with only wavering ripples left as evidence of your existence.

The Eye of Zaun – King of the Lanes – is seated on the only couch in the room, a lit cigar settled between his lips and legs crossed, like a regent fit for a throne. He looks vaguely amused by your entrance. “Miss Toxicologist. What a lovely surprise.”

“Silco,” you acknowledge, your lips pressed into a thin, bloodless line as you regard him. He tilts his head to the seat opposite of him, and you obey. The seat still lingers with the remaining warmth left behind by the fuming enforcer. Whatever arrangements took place prior to your arrival, Silco had benefited from it.

“So, to what do I owe the pleasure?” he asks, both eyes aimed unwaveringly at yours. “It has to be severe if it warranted a personal visit.”

“It’s not personal, I assure you.”

“Not even a little?”

“I won’t waste your time. I’m here for one of your bouncers.”

He raises an eyebrow, his curiosity momentarily piqued. “Why?”

“He assaulted one of the workers at Babette’s.”

Whatever he was previously about to vocalize dies at the tip of his tongue, and his entire façade freezes up as if time itself has ceased moving at a regular pace. Facially speaking, he doesn’t look any different from what you’re accustomed to, yet there’s a shadow over his eyes that remind you of liquid Sulphur. Simmering. Brewing just beneath the surface, ready to erupt from the slightest misstep.

“When?” he asks, and though he’s not raising his voice in the slightest, you can tell that the ice-cold layers of his composure are gradually melting.

It’s potentially hazardous for you to remain, but you’re here on an endeavor, and your determination to see this through is not quivering, regardless of the cost it might warrant. “Last night.”

“Any casualties?”

“No, but the receptionist suffered grievous injuries. I patched her up, but the girl’s conditio–”

“Girl?” He looks like he’s halfway through biting the cigar clean in half.

Your demeanor doesn’t change despite the evidential shift in his’, but it’s gradually on its way to. The Eye never struck you as the kind of person to care about what happened to a young woman – a child – but given his current role as the caregiver to a rather turbulent girl not much younger than Nellie, maybe there was something that hit a little too close to home in that department?

“A child, really. Barely in her late teens by the looks of it. According to the courtesans, the guy was apparently into that kind of … service.”

Truly, you’ve underestimated his sheer capability of remaining self-possessed, though it was to be expected given his line of work. It must have taken years to master it, but if the tight creases along the back of his couch atop which his arms rest serve as any indicator, it’s that he’s one bad word from unleashing the beast he’s so gracefully tried to contain.

It’s admirable, in a way, and you could probably admit that to yourself without falsehood.

Silco takes a deep, hollow breath through his nostrils before finally dipping the remnants of his cigar into the ashtray on the table, though you can’t help but note the way he all but mushes it beneath his thumb. Ashes smear across his otherwise clean skin, but he makes no effort to acknowledge or remedy it.

“The perpetrator. What’s his name?”

“Dex.”

Realization seems to wash over him like a bucket of scalding water, or it might be the simmering rage making it seem like his head’s about to combust.

Meanwhile, all you can hope to do now is to keep your head low and pray that the poison in your pocket will have no use here. For the first time since you’ve met the man in person, you can tell that he’s angry, and that’s putting it mildly. Even Vander, with his overwhelming size and strength, couldn’t hope to hold a candle to this display of wrath.

For all your reservations about being here at this very moment, you’re curious as to what Silco intends to do about this. A part of you, however small, hopes that he’s going to take the necessary actions to prevent this kind of incident in the future. If Babette’s words hold any meaning to you.

Or, he might view this as an act of defiance, and that’s when the image of rippling water makes resurfaces in the back of your head. A stone in the withering waters, only visible for a few seconds before merging with the darkness below.

That’s what you’ll become. A sinking rock. The one who thread too far. The one who leapt before she tested the waters.

You dig your hand into your pocket, tumbling with the small container still there, yet it doesn’t make you feel much safer. It should; it always had, whether it regarded unruly patrons or dangers on the streets, it’s never failed to make you feel like you have some kind of hold – control – over your circumstances.

Up until now.

It speaks volumes of Silco’s hold over you, however unintentional or unwilling.

Finally, after what feels like hours of unnerving quietness, he tilts his head to the side, eyes never straying far from yours as he retrieves what shred of composure he momentarily lost. “The bouncer will be dealt with, I can assure you. You may convey to Babette that no further harm will come to her establishment from my workers in any near future.”

“Do I have your word.”

“You have my word. Babette will have her pound of flesh.”

You release a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding, relief coursing through your veins in a near-uncharacteristic sense. “Good.” Your business has concluded, and so you get up to your feet and straighten your coat. “Then I will take my leave.”

“Is that the only reason you were here?” he asks. “There was no other issue that needed discussing? All this for someone else’s cause?”

“That was all,” you confirm. “I thank you for your time, Silco, but I’m sure you’re an occupied man, so I won’t keep you any further.”

“… Very well, but before you leave, would me mind indulging me an answer?” Matching your stance, Silco stands up from his seat and takes a few steps closer to you. Close enough to catch wind of the tobacco lingering in his breath, but far enough that physical contact is not a risk.

It’s in moments like these when you’re reminded that, for his slim build, his sense of authority cannot be misplaced by anyone, yet there you stand. “What do you get out of this?”

You shift your head to get a better look at him, attempting yet failing to deduce whatever underlying implications grace the surface of his eyes. Was this an attempt at mockery, or a genuine inquiry? For someone who looked halfway about to commit murder mere moments ago, he’s recollected himself profoundly well on such short notice. A snake shedding its former layer of skin in favor of a fresh disposition.

Taking your silence a sign of confusion, he continues, “Was this just business on your end? Secure more patrons for your establishment by posing as their protector. After all, the term of our contract was that our respective works would have no effect on each other, and yet here you are, going out of your way to inform me of the misdemeanors of one of my men on behalf of another. Rather charitable of you, wouldn’t you say, for someone who claims to hold no obligations for matters outside of her own work?”

If you didn’t know any better, you’d believe that he appeared somewhat disappointed by the notion.

“Don’t mistake this for charity, Silco,” you reply as firmly as you can muster. You straighten your back, this time facing him completely with a sharpness to your gaze. “I’m no one’s savior, but we both know that no one fucks with the escort agencies. No one is above that rule. Not even the men of the powerful Industrialist himself. I merely intended to remind you of that.”

There’s a shift in his demeanor as you say this. Admiration. Heat. Understanding. Your words might have been taken as an insult with the way you carried them, but Silco does not seem to harbour any animosity. If anything, he’s enamoured.

“It seems you’re a walking contradiction, my dear,” he speaks softly, so much so that you almost strain to hear it. He arrives with clarification before you can even request it of him. “You hold loyalty for your fellows, even when you mean to convey otherwise.”

“Loyalty? Is that what you believe fueled this visit?”

“Was it not? Not even for Babette?”

“I came here as a messenger for Babette. Nothing more. What difference does loyal obligations make?”

This time, he leans in closer, his warm breath tingling the outline of your face. Under any other circumstances, this might have been perceived as an intimate encounter, but both of you are very well aware of the nature of your relationship. It’s just business.

“Plenty,” he murmurs barely above a whisper. “After all, if I told you that I had no intention of dealing with this matter, what would you have done? Let it lie, or handled it yourself?”

He already knows your answer. What your voice fails to reply with, your eyes make up for.

“I would’ve taken care of it.”

There’s no question about it. There’s a fire in your eyes that burns hotter than any sun, though the owner would prefer to let it be perceived as mere embers to avoid garnering suspicions. But he sees through it like glass. What’s resting underneath your calm exterior is a wildfire, and it’s the same one he’s been attempting to catch a glimpse of since the day he first met you.

He watches you intently up until the moment where the door shuts behind you, and the sound of your feet gradually vanish down the hallway.

You’re an enigma, he decides, and he’s always harbored an affinity for puzzles. He’s gotten one answer from this meeting, and it’s that – for all your apathetic regards – you’re loyal. Perhaps not to him, not yet, but at the very least for the city in which you both reside. This event has more than proved that, even if you would prefer to pretend otherwise.

You’re loyal in the sense that you would cast your own well-being aside to deliver a message towards arguably the most powerful man in Zaun, and you did so without wavering even once.

A quality like that is seldom found, and you just handed it to him on a platter.

Sevika arrives shortly, and he doesn’t even question why the offending bouncer at the centre of all of this is currently thrown bruised and beaten on his floor, like cattle sent to slaughter.

First things first, it is time to make an example.

#silco x reader #arcane #arcane fanfic #arcane x reader #silco/reader #in the land of the blind #arcane lol #silco x oc #fanfiction

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theteasetwrites · 3 years

Text

The Beginning Is the End Is the Beginning

Chapter 13: Don't Ever Be Afraid

❧ Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader ❧ Era: Season 2 ❧ Pronouns: she/her ❧ Warnings: swearing, blood & gore, scary situation, season 2 spoilers, character death ❧ Word Count: 3k

❧ In This Chapter: A new problem presents itself at the farm: a potentially hostile young man is taken captive. Moral dilemmas about what to do with the boy divide your group, and tragedy strikes when a close friend is attacked by a walker.

❧ A/N: Short one but a lot happens. Also, this chapter is sad so proceed with caution (I mean, if you saw the show you know what happens, but still). Of course there's also cute Daryl x Reader content so it's worth reading just for that.

“So, what you gonna do?” Lori asked as she heated an enamel coffee pot over the communal fire pit. “We’d all feel better if we knew the plan.”

“Is there a plan?” Andrea replied.

Your group was gathered around the fire discussing what was to be done about Randall, the young man Rick, Hershel, and Glenn brought back to the farm the day the barn was breached.

Hershel had gone out to town to drink his sorrows after seeing the living corpse of his former wife, and Rick and Glenn went out that evening to bring him back. Little did they know they’d end up being shot at by another group, and that they’d take back an injured member of that same group out of compassion for the young man. They figured it’d be cruel to leave him for the walkers, but you weren’t so sure.

Rick and Shane seemed to be divided again—Rick believed you should let the man recover from his injury, then drop him off far away from the farm so he could have a fighting chance on his own. On the other hand, Shane simply wanted to get rid of the problem by killing the man, lest he bring back his group to take vengeance on yours.

You were torn, seeing the pros and cons of both solutions. There was also the idea that maybe Randall could be an asset for the group. He could join in and become a valued member. It was a long shot, but you’d taken that same chance with Daryl and now he was, in your admittedly biased opinion, one of the most valuable people in your group.

Only difference was that Daryl didn’t shoot at anyone in your group, Randall did.

In any case, you had reservations about executing him. It just didn’t seem right, and even though the world had ended, you thought, there still needed to be some sort of moral code. Killing the living as a preventative measure didn’t seem to fit within your ideal moral code.

It had now been two days since Randall had been at the farm. The day after he arrived, Rick and Shane set off to release him far from the farm, but it apparently didn’t go so well as the men came back with the same young man in tow.

You weren’t entirely sure what transpired that day, but both Rick and Shane came back looking like they’d been in an MMA fight, so you assumed their feuding had come to a breaking point.

Now Randall was being kept in a shed on the property, tied up and questioned like a prisoner of war. You hated being in this position, but it’s just how things fell into place. You were still getting used to accepting that, in every situation.

“We gonna keep him here?” Glenn questioned.

“It could be dangerous having him here, we don’t know if his people are going to be looking for him,” you suggested.

“We’ll know soon enough,” Rick replied, looking over your shoulder towards Daryl who was just joining your group after interrogating Randall.

You didn’t like him being in this position, but he was assigned to “bad cop,” and if anyone could do it, it was Daryl. He could be very intimidating when he needed to be, though you much preferred his softer side.

“Your boy there’s got a gang,” he said as he approached. You couldn’t help but notice his bruised and bloodied knuckles as he held onto the strap of his crossbow. “Thirty men. They got heavy artillery and they ain’t lookin’ to make friends.”

You looked down at your feet in worry.

“They roll through here,” he continued, “our boys are dead.”

You looked back up at him and he met your gaze. “And our women, they’re gonna—they’re gonna wish they were.”

“What did you do?” Carol asked.

“Had a little chat,” Daryl replied.

Right.

“No one goes near this guy,” Rick announced. “He’s a threat, we have to eliminate the threat.”

“You’re just gonna kill him?” Dale asked.

You stepped forward. “I’m not sure that’s the right thing to do, we should think about this, maybe have a vote. We don’t have to keep him here, but we can try letting him loose again.”

“It’s settled,” Rick looked at you seriously. “We’ll do it today.”

With that, he started walking off. You were about to go after him, but Dale beat you to it.

“I’ll talk to him,” Dale rested his hand on your shoulder to reassure you.

After a while of doing chores around the camp to keep your mind off the whole dilemma, you made your way back to your tent in hopes of getting some rest—and also finding Daryl.

Daryl was still insistent on staying as far away from the rest of the group as possible. He claimed that the group was “broken” anyway, but you were pretty sure he was still feeling guilty about not being able to find Sophia. It was a huge blow to his confidence, he just wouldn’t admit it.

“Hey,” you greeted him as he sat whittling sticks into arrows. You were always impressed with his ingenuity.

You sat yourself down next to him and grabbed his hands after he set his knife down.

“What’re you doing?” he asked.

You studied his knuckles carefully. Upon closer inspection, you saw they were split open from all the punching he’d been doing.

“Daryl, these look awful!” you said. “Let me doctor them.”

You didn’t wait for him to fight you before you leaped up and fetched your first aid kit from the tent.

“Don’ need no doctoring,” you heard him huff as you searched frantically for your kit. He was always moving things around.

“Yes, you do,” you corrected him, sitting yourself down again and beginning to dab a rubbing alcohol-soaked cotton ball across his split open knuckles.

“Jesus, woman, that stings!” he hissed.

“Sorry, sweetie,” you teased. “You don’t want these to get infected though, then Rick might have to put you down, too.”

He scoffed. “Between you and Dale…”

You lifted your head from your work. “Did Dale talk to you?”

Daryl nodded as you started applying antibacterial ointment to his knuckles. “He was goin’ off about me bein’ a ‘decent man’ or somethin’, said I could convince Rick not to kill the kid tonight.”

You smiled, beginning to wrap his hands in gauze. “You should listen to your elders. Dale knows what he’s talking about. He’s smart, especially if he said that about you.” You brought Daryl’s hands to your lips and gave a kiss to each of his gauze-covered knuckles on one hand, then the other, making an exaggerated “mwah” sound for each kiss. “There, all better,” you cooed.

He looked at you bewildered. “You’re so damn weird,” he said, then returned to making arrows.

“Yeah, but you love me,” you reminded him. You took a deep breath before speaking again. “Anyway, what do you think? About the whole thing?”

“Don’ care,” he mumbled. “Sooner we get rid o’ him the better. Told y’all, his people ain’t no good. We let him loose, he could bring ‘em back here, and if he stays they might come lookin’ for him anyway. Best to just kill him and get it over with.”

You sighed. “Maybe he’s not like his people, maybe he won’t bring them here. I mean, he’s just a kid, Daryl.”

“You really wanna risk it?” he asked, turning to face you. “That kid said his men raped two girls, made their daddy watch. Kid just stood there and did nothin’. Who knows what else they done.”

“God, I don’t know,” you huffed, holding your head in your hands. “I just don’t think killing him is the right thing to do.”

“Don’ think about it so much, ain’t worth it. Once it’s done we can move on. No big deal.”

Later that day, Rick called a meeting in the house to discuss what should be done about Randall. Dale must’ve been able to convince him to at least have a vote like you suggested, but it seemed that most of your group were either in favor of executing him or didn’t have an opinion one way or the other.

You were still conflicted. You couldn’t quite stand with Dale fully because you were honestly frightened of the possibility that Randall’s group could find the farm. The only way to prevent that would be to kill him, and that idea disturbed you, but not enough to make a big argument.

Disappointed with the outcome of the meeting, Dale went off somewhere alone. You felt bad for not standing with him, so you followed him to the chicken coop.

“Hey, Dale,” you greeted him.

He was sat watching the chickens feed, his aged face in deep concentration.

He didn’t say anything, but you sat next to him anyway.

“I’m uh… I’m sorry. For not standing with you.”

Dale turned to look at you. “You don’t have to be sorry, (Y/N). I know you’re conflicted about this whole thing. I just hope whatever happens, we can still cling on to some kind of humanity.”

You nodded in agreement. “I know, I hope so too.” You let out a sigh. “I do think you’re ultimately right, Dale. That much I know.”

Dale smiled at you and took your hand in his. “I’m glad to hear you say that, I just wish you would’ve said it at that meeting.”

You laughed. “Yeah, as if my opinion really matters around here.”

Dale turned serious. “Of course it does, (Y/N). You’re an asset to this group. Hell, you’re the one who brought them to the quarry, and you brought us Daryl. Not to mention all the hard work you do. You are important.”

You blushed. “You trying to butter me up like you did Daryl earlier?”

Dale chuckled. “He told you about that?”

“Yeah, how you said he’s a decent man.” You smiled at his words. “You’re right, he’s just… he needs more confidence. He doesn’t think he’s as good as Rick, or that he could be a leader.”

“That’s one thing the two of you have in common—lack of confidence.”

You rolled your eyes. “Well, I have my moments, but a lot of the time I just… I just feel afraid. Since this whole thing started. I try to keep hoping, but it’s hard when everything is so out of your control. I end up just feeling afraid that everything is going to be taken away from me, that I can’t stop it.”

This was your first time revealing to anyone in your group, even Daryl, that you had so much fear in your heart. You were always trying to be the uplifting one, the one who made the others laugh or told them it would be okay or lent a shoulder to cry on, but really you were just as scared as everyone else.

Dale squeezed your hand in his, then clasped over it with his other hand. “Don’t you ever be afraid, (Y/N),” he said. “That fear, that’s what gets us. You can’t let it win. You will lose things, but you’ve already lost so much, we all have, and yet here you are. You’re a survivor.”

It was true, technically. You were a survivor. You didn’t feel like it, but you were. You were still not sure you were really meant to be where you were, but that’s how it worked out, so you accepted it.

“I look at you and I see the future,” he continued. “You’ve got hope, you’re in touch with humanity. Some of the others, they forget about that. They forget that we’re still the same people, just in a different world. You are the future, (Y/N), you just need the confidence to convince others that there’s still hope.”

You brought your hand that Dale wasn’t holding up to your face to wipe away your tears. It was the first time you’d cried out of something other than sadness in ages.

“Thank you, Dale,” was all you could muster.

He pulled you into his shoulder and laid a chaste kiss on your hairline. It was not unlike the kisses your father gave you.

“Well, it’s going to be dark soon. Better get on back to your tent, I’m gonna go for a little walk.”

You pulled your head from Dale’s shoulder. “You sure? I’ll walk with you if you want.”

“(Y/N), I may be old but I can walk on my own, thank you very much.”

As the sun was setting, you returned to your camp when Daryl was just about to leave.

“Where you off to?” you asked.

“Rick um, asked me to help with the execution,” he said while scratching the back of his neck. “Gonna shoot him in the barn I guess.”

You sighed. “Rick’s doing it though, right? He’s not making you shoot him?”

“Nah, just gotta hold him down.”

“God,” you said. “I wish there was another way.” You lowered your head.

Daryl came up to you slowly. He rested his hands on your arms, then used one hand to lift your chin up so you were looking at him.

“I know, (Y/N). It ain’t ideal, but if it’s what keeps ya safe then I’ll do it.”

You smiled sadly. “Just make sure it’s quick, okay? No need to torture the guy.”

Daryl nodded. “I’ll see what I can do, you jus’ go back with the others okay? Don’t want ya out here by yourself. I’ll get ya when it’s done.”

“Yes, sir,” you said. You grabbed his cheeks with both hands and pulled him in for a sweet kiss. “You be careful.”

It was completely dark out when Rick and Carl showed up at camp. It had been about twenty minutes since Rick, Shane, and Daryl took Randall to the barn. From what you gathered, Carl had walked in on them about to shoot him.

“We’re keeping him in custody, for now,” Rick announced.

You were mostly confused, but a bit relieved. You hated the idea of killing a man who could’ve been completely innocent, but you were also tired of the constant back and forth regarding what was to be done with him. A part of you just wanted the whole thing to be over and done with, but that just wasn’t how things worked anymore. It never was.

Then you heard screaming.

“T-Dog, get a shotgun, now!” you heard Rick yell.

“Oh my god,” you said. “That sounded like Dale.” You grabbed a flashlight and your knife before joining Rick and the others in running towards the screams.

“Dale!” you cried as you saw him pinned down by a walker in the field where the Greenes kept their cows.

Directly in your line of vision was Daryl running from the opposite direction. He made it to Dale the quickest and tackled the walker before plunging his knife into its forehead.

You knelt down beside Dale, absolutely horrified by what the walker had done to him. It wasn’t a simple bite; the walker had disemboweled him.

“Oh my god!” you cried.

Daryl looked down quickly before yelling for the others. “Help! Over here! Help! Run!” he yelled frantically, waving his arms at the rest of your group.

You watched in horror as Dale’s blood poured out from his ripped open torso. Daryl dropped to his knees on the other side of Dale, breathing heavily and equally as horrified. “Hang in there, buddy,” he said.

Soon the others joined you. You heard muffled voices coming from behind you, but all you could do was stare at Dale in shock as you desperately tried to think of what you could possibly do to help him. You suddenly felt Daryl’s arms wrapping around you and lifting you away so Rick could see what had happened.

“Get Hershel,” you heard Rick say. “He needs blood, we gotta operate, now!”

You couldn’t take your eyes away from Dale as he moaned in pain on the ground, his abdomen completely opened up and bleeding profusely. You hadn’t ever seen so much blood, not even when you cut your arm on that porcelain doll. Back then it seemed like so much blood, but now it was just a paper cut.

You broke out of your shock and began breathing so heavily you thought you might pass out. It didn’t matter though, nothing mattered.

“Oh God, Dale!” you cried, struggling in Daryl’s arms as you tried to break free from his hold around you. “Let me go!”

He didn’t let up, not wanting you to get in the way of Hershel as he knelt down to look at Dale’s injury.

“Can we move him?” Risk asked desperately.

“He won’t make the trip,” Hershel informed him.

“You have to do the operation here. Glenn, get back to the house!”

“Rick!” Hershel shook his head at the man, indicating that there was nothing that could be done for him.

You saw the grave look on Hershel’s face, you heard the pained moans and cries still ringing in your ears.

“No!” Rick screamed.

That was when you couldn’t hold back your sobs any longer. You fell limp in Daryl’s arms, no longer able to fight back against him. He held you up, your entire body weight sinking down.

Dale let out some more pained cries, and you just couldn’t take it anymore.

“He—he’s in pain,” you cried. “Someone needs to do something!”

When Rick slowly pointed his gun at Dale’s head, you turned in Daryl’s arms to hide your head in his shoulder, unable to watch.

You waited with bated breath to hear the gunshot that would rid Dale of his suffering, but it never came.

You didn’t even notice Daryl had moved away from you, setting you down gently on the grass.

The next moments passed so excruciatingly slowly that you swore you’d lived a lifetime before you heard Daryl quietly say, “Sorry, brother.”

And that gunshot finally rang out.

Thanks for reading! Likes, comments, and reblogs of any kind are always appreciated!

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#daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon #twd #twd fanfic #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfic #the beginning series

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bokettochild · 3 years

Text

Violet

So y'all remember this animatic? Yeah?

I wrote a thing based off of it.

I'm not entirely sure how I fee about it, but y'all have shown how much you like my crack in the past, even if I wasn't sure about that either, so...

Here's Legend getting mistaken for a mom and pulling his brothers into a terrible impromptu acting adventure.

There are many things you do not do in Castletown.

One of those things, apparently, was taking Twilight with you, and next time he had a chance Legend was seriously considering muzzling their wolfish friend, in his shadow form or not.

He wasn’t the only one with that thought either apparently, although likely the only one who was thinking it out annoyance rather than utter and complete terror. Honestly, Twi needed to cut that protective streak of his in half, or he was going to be regretting it even more than he was going to regret this!

They’d all met thieves before, on the road, in villages, even here in Castle Town, and unfortunately Warriors’ central city was particularly full of them. The captain had explained it ages ago, something about the war displacing people and stirring up unrest with the refugees. It wasn't uncommon that someone got tired of relying on the crown for help, which, the captain had admitted sorrowfully, was rather slow in coming, despite all of Artemis’s efforts, to provide any sort of relief to the starving and displaced victims of the war. Legend had winced at that. Poor blokes, it had been similar in his own Hyrule when those trapped in the dark world emerged again, and even back in their Hylian forms, many of them had struggled to readjust to a world that had moved on in their absence.

It was little wonder than that those in the captain’s time faced the same struggle, especially after a bloody time war, but even so, it bothered him to no end that their group specifically had been the one that the idiot of a man chose to target. Honestly! They were all carrying swords for pities sakes! How did the sod even think he was going to catch a bunch of warriors unawares to steal from them?

Maybe it was because they were split.

It only made sense, after being dropped in the captain’s time, that they restock supplies. Both for practicality and to avoid suspicion, they’d divided the group into two to better run their errands, Time taking those less accustomed to bustling cities with him to gather food and potions, and Warriors leading the rest of them, those who could stand crowds at least a little bit better, to visit the blacksmith, fletcher, and tailor shops.

True to form, the captain strutted ahead with his scarf waving behind him, Wind tagging along beside him and chattering excitedly about something or other at the soldier. He and Four, however, had chosen to trail after, not for any particular reason other than both being extremely tired and maybe just a bit emotional.

In his own case, he hadn’t slept in a good sixty-three hours or so, and combining that with the stress of wandering around in an unknown place, he was a little more sensitive than usual and a bit put out as a result. Similarly, Four was fighting off his usual headache from their sudden switch, and ever since they’d pulled themselves out of the alleyway Hylia dumped them in, the shortest hero had worn his hood pulled over his eyes, mumbling softly under his breath in a way that was, unfortunately, unnerving Legend further and making him want, very much, to beg the other to stop.

That wasn’t an option of course, so he did something he hated almost as much as the saunter Warriors was using to get down the road.

He made small talk.

It helped, surprisingly, and while the four of them had run their errands, he chattered amiably with the smithy, who’d been willing to talk as long as he didn’t have to think too much on things. Legend could agree with that, and the two had spent the last half hour discussing if Four’s tunic really was red, green, blue and violet, as the smithy claimed, or red, green, blue and purple as Legend thought it was.

“It’s violet.” Four huffed, pushing the last bundle of arrows into his pack as they departed from the smithy’s shop and made their way back to the fountain at the center of town, where they'd agreed to meet with Time and the others.

“But it’s not!” He insisted, shifting the bundle of fabric in his arms and meeting the smithy’s gaze. “Violet is softer, duskier, a bit closer to grey or blue. That’s purple, plain as day!”

Warriors and Wind, for once, didn’t say anything, only exchanging grins every so often that the other two ignored.

Talking with Four was surprisingly pleasant, and ridiculously easy in comparison to talking with the others. For one thing, neither had to look too very far up or down to see the other, and as they’d found since their first dinner at the ranch, it was easy to say a lot with just a look. Subtle communication also went a long way further with the smithy than with anyone else, and it was a relief not to have to explain everything for once. Additionally, Four also liked reading, and unlike with most of their other brothers, they could actually have intelligent conversations with each other.

Not that that’s what they were doing when they’d trailed after the other two towards the fountain, but when they heard the snarl and resulting scream, the look the two heroes shared had carried as many words as a full two-hour lecture, while all at once conveying a single thought.

Oh boy, what did Twilight do this time?

What Twilight had done, he found out later, was spring a thief who had attempted to snatch the Sheikah Slate from Wild, who’d been a bit busy trying to calm his anxiety to really notice that one of the humans pressing close all around him was actually trying to steal it. That, naturally, was all well and good. The problem was the way Twilight had chosen to handle it and Legend swore there were days that Twilight forgot what form he was in; rather than pushing the thief away or grabbing ahold of them and confronting them, the gracious rancher had chosen to fling his entire body weight at the man and bite his arm.

Of course, that was only what Legend found out later, what he saw when the four of them managed to peek through the crowd, was Twilight standing there in full sight of the entire market with blood on his teeth and a man screaming in pain and terror at his feet.

Bravo, Rancher, bravo.

“Oof.” Wind winced. “That’s not good.”

“Shit.” Warriors swore, glancing around nervously and ripping his scarf off to hide in his pack.

Realization sprung on the vet like Twilight had the poor thief; Warriors was the hero here. If anyone noticed him, or any of the knightlier looking ones, they’d probably try and have them arrest Twilight. That was all well and good of course, as it would make a reasonable excuse to haul the rancher out of the way, but they’d be expected to call for help from some soldiers, and while they’d been planning on meeting with the queen while they were here, having Twilight presented to her as a feral, potentially insane, and definitely dangerous criminal was not the approach they were aiming for.

They needed a distraction, fast.

So, like the reasonable and totally mentally secure Hylian that he was, Legend shouted the first thing that came to his mind. “Violet!”

His three companions stared at him, and had he been capable, he would have stared at himself, but a desperate glance Fours way had the other drawing back, nodding slowly as Legend shouted again. “Violet? Honey?”

Warriors looked at him like he’d lost his head, gripping Wind’s shoulder firmly as if worried he’d have to pull the kid back from the apparently mad veteran.

Thank Din for teaching him acting years ago, even if it was all stage performing, but he was counting on it to get him, and Twilight, out of their respective messes, even if that meant building his higher before he could escape. At any rate, he’d caught the attention of a few people with his panicked shout. Turning to the nearest Hylian that wasn’t one of his group, he gently tapped the woman’s shoulder, letting his panic and everything in general spill over into his face and voice as the woman met his gaze with a startled look.

“Ma’am, I’m looking for-” Oh Four was going to hate this. “-My child, Violet. Have you seen a blonde Hylian child, so tall?” He lowered his hand to approximately where Four’s head would reach. “I’ve been looking everywhere!” He forced a fake sob into his voice, glancing from the woman to the surrounding crowd, and Warriors and Wind in its midst.

Wind was stifling a laugh behind his hand while Warriors stared in utter shock.

“Oh my,” The woman touched her cheek, clucking lightly and patting Legend’s hand in a consoling manner. “You poor dear! I haven’t seen a thing but just give me one moment.” The burly housewife turned, still patting Legend’s hand gently as she murmured something to the women behind her, before turning back to Legend with a sorry expression. “None of my friends have seen your little one, dear. But-” The woman turned and, with all the force and volume of a cow, hollered at the top of her lungs to the crowd as a whole. “Hello? Yes, this woman is looking for her daughter!”

Woman?!?!?!

“Her name is Violet! She’s-” The woman blinked, looking to Legend with a worried look as several other market goers turned to stare, many of them women with looks of pity and understanding that was making him wish he’d stayed silent. Fortunately, his ruse had startled them out of staring at the sight of a mauled thief as worry for a poor young mother and her lost daughter took its place. “She’s how old?”

Legend fought the protest of female pronouns, both on Four’s part and his own, but only in his head. Outwardly however, he covered his face with the hand not being smashed by the farm-wife's own. “She’s four.” Shoot him, he was saying whatever came to mind because he was panicked, alright?

A snort could be heard behind him, earning disapproving looks from the crowd that soon shifted to pity as Wind too joined the act, turning his snort into pitiful sniffling as he clung to Warriors’ hand, looking for all the world like a child who’d been to the market too long and wanted to go home, but was also panicking at the loss of their sibling. “Have you all seen my sister?” The sailor blubbered softly, actual tears spilling down his face as he pouted, expression making his act so believable that no one even questioned his height. As if to make the act more convincing, Warriors wrapped an arm around the kid’s shoulder, his own face stiffening into something that could either be gas or worry, Legend was a bit on the fence.

“What’s going on here?” Legend wished that was Time stalking towards them in full armor, but it wasn’t, it was a Hylian Soldier, staring at the crowd with a grim frown on his face as he turned to Legend, standing in its center.

Oh well, those who crack under a tough audience get tomatoes to the face; he just hoped Wars would keep playing along. “My daughter,” He sobbed into his hand, pulling the other free from the housewife to properly cover his face. “She- My baby- I can’t find her anywhere, Sir!” Later, Warriors would begrudgingly admit that the look Legend shot the soldier was enough to break any heart as the vet stepped forwards, grabbing hold of the man’s arm with all the desperation of a worried mother. “Please tell me, have you seen a little girl? She’s in her favorite dress, the colors of the goddesses, red, green and blue?” He motioned down at his own tunic, skirt, whatever one would call it. “There’s a violet corner too, I made it for her myself- oh my poor baby! I can’t seem to find her anywhere!”

The grizzled soldier quickly melted under the power of tearful violet eyes, and he too gently patted Legend’s hands as if he thought it would do any good. “I’ll have my men look for her right away, ma’am. How old would you say she is?

“She’s four.” He reaffirmed. Might as well stick to his original story.

“So tall?” The farm-wife motioned, hands lowering a bit more than Legend’s had, but the woman was trying to help, so he couldn’t really be upset with her for getting it wrong. At this point though, he was a bit worried about where Four actually was, because he’d expected the shorter hero to make an appearance sooner rather than later so the act could end.

“Right.” The man nodded, pulling himself loose as Legend brought his hands to clasp in front of his chest in an imitation of the maids he’d seen worrying about the halls when Fable went missing. “We’ll do everything in our power to find your little one, madame, you have my word.” The soldier bowed, kissing the back of the vet’s hand graciously before moving back into the crowd and snapping orders at the soldiers stationed around the market.

People buzzed by, spreading the word of ‘little Violet’s’ disappearance as Warriors and Wind pushed forwards to where Legend stood.

“Really, vet?” Warriors murmured lowly.

“I panicked.” He admitted softly, as to avoid anyone noticing as he wrung his hands. “But seriously, where is ‘’Violet’? I thought he’d have appeared before it became a big thing.”

The captain frowned, settling a hand on his shoulder carefully and standing on his toes to look over the crowd as Wind giggled at the scowling veteran. The minute he shot a look down at the sailor though, the kid had picked up his role as smoothly as if he’d never dropped it. “I’m worried, mom.” Wind blinked past fake tears, and had he not needed to remain in character, Legend would have scowled and flicked the kid’s nose for the tease.

“I am too, honey.” He sighed instead, ruffling the sailor’s curls and looking over to where the others had been. Time and the others had disappeared into the crowd again, likely trying to keep a low profile and laughing their asses off at Legend’s expense while Time and Sky scolded Twilight.

“Mama?” A small voice called out, and the crowd, and he meant the whole crowd, the whole freaking crowd of several hundred people, froze as a small face peeked out from an alleyway, the smithy’s hand coming up to rub at his shimmering purple eyes with a sniff. “Mama?”

“Violet!” All three heroes surged forwards, Legend sinking to his knees and wrapping Four in a hug, taking the opportunity when his face was hidden from the crowd to scowl. “About time you showed up.” Aloud for the crowd however, he let sobs pitch his voice hysterically. “Oh honey, you can’t run off on mama like that! I was worried sick!”

And as if to put the icing on the cake of shame, one of the men in the crowd smiled softly, patting Warriors’ back with a friendly smile. “Your wife is quite the caring mother, isn’t she? Ah, you’re a lucky man, Mr.”

Legend forced himself to not blow their cover, no matter how little they now needed it with the others safely out of sight. Breaking character meant causing drama that they didn’t need. ‘Violet’ had been found, the cute little family would depart, people would calm. But if the worried mother turned out to be a screaming teenage boy and the lost daughter to be a smithy apprentice with a height problem, people would likely riot. So instead of turning around and giving the man a piece of his mind, he pushed forwards, hefting Four in his arms (the smithy sank into him with a sigh that couldn’t have been faked) letting the smaller hero nestle against him, hood hiding the smithy’s face from view as he pulled them both up, adjusting his arms so as to not drop the other.

Man, he was glad he’d put on power bracelets today.

“She is indeed.” Warriors forced out, a strained smile on his face as he settled his hand on Legend’s waist, stiff, cold and incredibly awkward. “We’d probably better head off, dear.” If the captain smiled any harder, he’d break his teeth. “Or the inns will all be full.”

It should have ended there, it should have. Legend was so ready for it to end (although Four was warm and a calming presence as the smithy began to doze against his chest), but because fate loved to mess with him, it didn’t.

“You’re looking for a place to stay the night?” The Man-Who-Needed-To-Be-Kicked cocked a brow. “I run an inn here, just across the square. I’m sure we can find a lovely little family like yourselves a place to rest, you and our wife must be exhausted after such worry!”

Warriors, sages curse and bless him, nodded along stiffly, gently pulling him along by is waist after the Blasted-Innkeeper-Who-Would-Be-Kicked as the man chattered about family discounts and free dinner. Legend’s shoulders only lowered when a free trip to the bath house was also thrown in ‘complimentarily’.

He regretted it when someone pointed him to the ladies’ side of the bath-house (think heavens it was empty that early), and he was about ready to strangle something or someone when the others joined them inside, stuck with a regularly priced room, and the smithy and vet both were bombarded with teases as Warriors sat looking utterly and completely disgusted.

“They thought we were married....”

Legend groaned, flopping over on the other side of the bed with a grimace. “Gross, right?”

“Yeah.”

"We’re forgetting this ever happened, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

Regardless, no one ever let them forget it happened.

Legend was buying Twilight a muzzle, and he was pretty sure Wars would be willing to help.

#linkeduniverse #linked universe #linked universe crack #idiot writes crack #lu four #lu legend #lu warriors #lu wind #lu twilight #animatic #legend and four are best friends shoot me

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yesimwriting · 3 years

Note

Hi!!! I was wondering if you could do like a short story post or something I wonder how Our General Kirigan would react to a shy reader? Would he tease her? Be frustrated with her? And how would she react? Idk maybe just a thought 😅 I asked you because i really like your writing and I feel like you would really do a good job and I like the way you portray the General. 😊

a/n i have been crying/feeling shitty for the past two days for no reason!! so i thought it might make me feel better to try writing headcanons! i have SO MANY half done requests/fics but as of recently i hate everything that i write!! so i thought i'd work on this request that lends itself to headcanons

also im glad you like my writing :))

General Kirigan with a shy! reader headcanons:

- First things first, I think how he interacts with someone shy that he sees as a (potential) romantic interest varies per situation. Like generally, he finds the timidness kind of soft which is so different from what he's used to that he finds that aspect kind of endearing.

- He'd never admit that at the beginning, but the more time you spend with him the clearer it becomes to you because of how he acts when you're alone together

- At first, he'd hold onto his usual stoic disposition, but after realizing that at the end of the day your shyness is genuine and not an attempt to seem meek in order to trick people/him he'd begin to tease you about it when you two are alone.

- The first time he makes a comment that's just a little,, kinda-almost suggestive (a comment about how he wonders what it'd be like to be a Heartrender so that he could hear the change in your heartbeat every time you shied away from something) you're too confused to be embarrassed for like two seconds.

- You're basically that meme that's like did I hear that shit righttt??

- So you meet his gaze, and there's absolutely nothing but warm confidence there and you realize that he had in fact,,, said that.

- You hold his gaze for a moment out of protest (which is an incredible feat) and then you have to drop your eyes to the floor. You mumble some comment about how his ability to summon shadows isn't exactly a boring skill.

- Your reaction is so soft,, Kirigan can't help but be endeared even further. Something he wasn't exactly expecting and isn't too thrilled about. He doesn't think being shy makes you weak,, but he's extremely wary about how you're perceived and how people may treat you because of it.

- He doesn't doubt his ability to protect you, but he doesn't want to be distracted,, not with all he has to do.

- Still, he can't help mumble comments whenever there's a brief pause and you two are alone

- Meanwhile, you're starting to notice that now more situations keep coming up when you're left alone with Kirigan?? like he's always in the library when you are, he's always walking in to assess training when you're training and he just so happens to linger until you leave and then he just so happens needs to walk in the same hallway.

- It's a little strange at first,, but you're more horrified by the fact that you're not mad about it than the fact that it's happening. Especially since you know how much joy he gets from getting you flustered. You can see that in that slightly cocky uptilt to his lips whenever you're left gaping at him.

- Why doesn't it bother you?? You try to rationalize it and the only conclusion you can come to is the fact that he's attractive and powerful and even though your face gets hot whenever he talks to you,, there's appeal in those qualities. There's appeal in getting the infamous General to smile.

- Even if it costs you the bit of pride you have.

- You don't get why you're the one he seems to be going out of his way to speak to (maybe when your life is as stressful as his is,, at the end of the day you just want something easy and if he's in the mood to be flirty, you're easy) but you're not mad. You just have to constantly remind yourself to not be foolish enough to think you're the only one he goes out of his way to talk to.

- And as time progresses, you get a little more comfortable with his banter. You stop shying away completely,, which only encourages him to get bolder with his comments.

- Nothing insane,, not yet, just a little more direct.

- It kind of becomes a little game to him,, to see how flustered he can get you with the minimal amount of effort. Every once in awhile, you manage to act normally, but he's quick to shut that down by upping his game just slightly.

- After awhile, it starts to become a game for you too, to see how much of your instincts you can suppress just to take away some of his satisfaction. Only when he's getting a little too smug.

- But that's when y'all are alone...

- When you're surrounded by others, sometimes it feels like you don't even exist to each other. Sometimes that's a lonely feeling for both of you, but each of you is convinced that they're the only one that feels the absence.

- In your defense, you're much more entitled to those feelings because he can literally do whatever he wants. You can't just walk up to the General and do what?? ask him why he hasn't made any suggestive comment in the last couple of hours??

- please that embarrassing!! even if you weren't shy, that would be out of POCKET

- Meanwhile Kirigan is just like being angsty and debating the implications of seeking you out in an environment with so many important people. He could probably manage a minute or two by your side without making anyone suspicious, but the danger in that is that he won't be able to bring himself to leave after those minutes pass him.

- Worse,, he may even find an excuse for both of you to step out into the hall so that he can make his comments and take in your reactions in private.

- It's especially difficult when you have that one strand of hair just slightly out of place,, presenting the perfect excuse for him to just fix it and then drop his hand slowly so that his fingertips can brush the side of your cheek.

- And you're growing tired of the crowds of people you're not comfortable with and you're starting to feel more and more stupid for letting something that was so clearly just a playful distraction mean anything to you.

- But before either of you can succumb to your angsty pinning (cough, cough,, simps) his eyes will find yours from across the room and that's EVERYTHING

- At first, you want to be stiff and look away because it's probably not intentional, but then he gives you that little smirk. And then you feel stupid for ever doubting that you two at least have some kind of friendship. (maybe more,, but you're too scared to let yourself think that,, ;))

- And then you give him this shy smile,, and that's it. He's done--that one look undoes him entirely.

- So he starts shifting towards you as casually as possible, because if he can't be with you right now, surely being near you is good enough for now.

- You're unaware of this,, and when the moment ends you find yourself longing for more, but relatively satisfied. You don't expect anything from him, he's important and you're you.

- And being around people drains you because you genuinely want to stay out of any situation that would have too much attention on you at once. So once Kirigan moves and you can't find him in the crowd, you decide now is as good a time as any to step out and get some air, especially since no one currently needs you for anything.

- So you disappear into the corridor, planning to be gone only for a few minutes. But the second you're about two steps into the hallway, you hear another's footsteps.

- The hopeful part of you is like 'maybe it's him!!' but you don't really think that. There's something about the atmosphere that feels too tense,, too wrong for you to believe it's him.

- A moment later, your suspicions are confirmed. A grisha known for his impulsiveness is calling out to you, asking you where you're going.

- You explain that you just wanted to get some air and that you'd be returning in a minute. You try to sound dismissive, clearly establishing that you'd like your minute to yourself.

- It's clear that he understands the hint, but he doesn't move. He just keeps asking you questions.

- Your answers get shorter and shorter, the nerves your feeling tensing with each word as he begins to venture from falsely casual conversation to more flirtatious words. Being shy can leave you speaking too much, spluttering out words in hopes of saying the right thing to let you escape, but this is a different type of nervousness. Something feels wrong.

- And he just keeps saying things, things that even Kirigan wouldn't be able to get away with.

- All the while, you're desperate to escape, but they're persistent.

- And just when you're losing hope, and his advances get so bold he has you literally backed into a corner--a familiar voice comes to you like a lifeline.

- Kirigan, with all the authority of the general, questions what's going on. The guy that was so relentlessly hitting on you moves back like suddenly you're fire and begins to back away. He tries to explain himself but Kirigan is not having it.

- As soon as the stranger leaves, you feel like you can breathe again, but your nerves are still on edge. Kirigan's looking at you in a way you've never seen before. Sharp and almost--almost angry?

- You try to mumble a quick thanks, intending to disappear back to where you're supposed to be, but Kirigan's gaze keeps you planted against the wall.

- His gaze is so intense you ask him if he's alright.

- The question cracks something in him because of course you'd ask him if he's okay after something happened to you. His expression softens slightly, which you think is a good thing but then he speaks,, and his voice is not calm at all

- He's mad at the person that did that and the irrational part of him makes it seem like he's a little mad at you for letting that situation happen, but it's only because he's worried about what would have happened if he hadn't gotten there in time.

- And you're kind of confused because like?? what does he want from you? you made it clear you were uncomfortable and you were trying to get away?

- But after a quick snap and the fact that you're okay settles in,, he does feel a little bad. So he comes close to apologizing,, but that's basically just him saying he's glad that you're okay.

- You don't really ease, so he decides to make a partial joke about how maybe he needs to be around you more,, just to be safe,, you know

- And you smile slightly, and you're like 'y'know i'm not completely helpless.'

- and he's like 'pity,, i would've liked the excuse'

- your face instantly feels extremely warm and you're not sure what you could even, plausibly say to that. But you can't let him have the last word,, not like that. So you're overcompensating, rambling, but then at the end...you say something about how he doesn't really need an excuse to stay near you.

- When you realize what you've said, fight or flight kicks in,, but you can't move. And there's no casual way to escape, so you decide that maybe you'll cut your losses for today because that might have been your most significant reply to him ever, and you feel like an idiot because he was probably joking. And you just had to say that and make it weird.

- So you allow exactly one second of unfortunate silence, your eyes glued to the ground. And then you make some excuse about needing to get back to where you were.

- But Kirigan stops you, and you think about how you can't avoid looking him in the eyes forever, so you just kind of barely dare to glance upwards.

- And he's smiling broader than usual, the look is so warm it melts away all the bad feelings from earlier. You have absolutely no idea what it means, but you know it's not...bad.

- And then he shifts slightly, and that's when you realize he's never been this close before.

- He then asks if you're sure, voice much lower than earlier.

- You can't speak,, too trapped on a line you don't understand.

- But as he leans forward, the only answer he needs is the instinctual part of your lips as his warm breath reaches your cheek.

- And with that he turns his head just a fraction of an inch,, and his lips meet yours.

- It's just a quick brush of lips,, a soft test. And when you don't protest, he moves to let the contact be a little more assured, yet still teasing.

- Something in you grows impatient, and you move a little in hopes that he'll take the hint.

- But that's all it takes for him to pull away, expression bright and teasing before playfully chiding you for being so eager.

- He then turns, leaving you more flustered than ever.

#request #the darkling #the darkling x reader #the darkling x you #aleksander morovoza #general kirigan #general kirigan x reader #aleksander morovoza x reader #shadow and bone #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone x you #netflix shadow and bone #sab #sab imagine

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makeste · 3 years

Text

BnHA Chapter 311: Hand Gun

Previously on BnHA: Horikoshi was all “thinkin’ about dropping in some woke analogies of the very real and very presently relevant issue of racial profiling idk what do you guys think” and then shrugged and did it without waiting for an answer, and ngl it was a bit sudden, but I’m here for it. All Might was all “DEKU YOU NEED TO EAT” and Deku was all “OKAY” and took his hero bento and went to go stand dramatically on a tower in the rain whilst having some highly anticipated Vestige flashbacks. OFA II was all, “sup, I guess I’m not Kacchan... OR AM I,” and ngl I think he is?? Alternate universes anybody?? Hello??? But anyway, so OFA the First a.k.a. Yoichi was all “remember that time you guys rescued me from my evil brother and Two took my hand and we Had A Moment?”, and Two and Three were all “ahh yeah good times”, and it was very nice and very, very gay. The chapter ended with it being very unclear if Two and Three have actually lent their power to Deku yet or not lmao. Y’all need to get your shit together dudes.

Today on BnHA: Horikoshi is all “what if I gave a random bad guy a fucking tommy gun that shoots nails” and jesus christ calm down son. The Hawksquad, a.k.a. SQUAWK as per @hotchocolatier, are all “time to drive aimlessly around town acting like Deku has a restraining order on us because that’s literally the best plan to combat the League we could come up with,” and I have no further comment. Hawks is all “idk about you guys but I want to know more about AFO and Tomura’s whole deal” and I can’t remember the last time I identified so strongly with one of these characters. All Might is all, “[EXPLODES???]”, and the chapter ends with that mysterious hot girl from the Tartarus breakout being all “HELLO I CAN TURN INTO A GUN AND I LITERALLY DON’T GIVE A FUCK” and (1) WOW, and (2) IT’S TRUE, SHE CAN, AND SHE REALLY DOESN’T. GODDAMN.

(ETA: so this wholly escaped my notice on the first go, and also has nothing to do with the chapter itself, but I only just realized that this chapter was scanlated by a new group, TCB Scans. they actually did a very good job, and I’m curious if they’ve found a new RAW provider, because the quality this week is actually crazy good in comparison to what we’ve been dealing with for the past few months. I’m gonna have to get caught up on what exactly happened here lol.)

so what will it be this week? more Vestige antics? more of Sad Nomad Deku standing on buildings and pretending like he’s some cool aloof antihero, as if he could fool us when we all know his hero backpack is secretly stuffed full with his nerd diaries and the remnants of all the hero bentos that All Might keeps giving him?? or, just putting it out there, just a crazy thought, but you don’t suppose we might actually cut back to U.A.? mmm. side-eyes emoji

maaaaaan I’m starting to get tired of this trend of beginning chapters by dropping in on random power-tripping civilians and/or Shindou lol. just once can we get a chapter that opens with someone I actually give a fuck about

oh at least Endeavor is here

A WHAT SUPPORT ITEM!??! HOLY SHIT DDLKJSLFKJL

lol somehow that’s more terrifying than bullets for me?? like I’m fully aware that bullets will fuck you up way worse and that in real life nail guns probably don’t work like this AT ALL and only have a range of like... hold up let me just google... up to 100 to 150 m/s and distances of up to 500m wait WHAT

okay wait. hold up. like I was expecting google to tell me nail guns only shoot a few feet at most, and instead the first search result is some CDC blog article that’s “dispelling” the “””myth””” -- please note my repeated sarcastic quotation marks -- that nail guns can fire 1400 feet per second, by explaining that actually they can fire anywhere from 315 ft/sec to 1,295 ft/sec, and that “it is in the pneumatic nail gun user’s best interest to handle these tools as if they were a firearm despite having a lower velocity” dlkjdslkjflkl

SO THAT SCENE IN IRON MAN 3 WHERE TONY RAIDS A HOME DEPOT AND BUYS A BUNCH OF RANDOM TOOLS AND SHIT AND GOES ON TO STAGE A ONE-MAN INVASION OF AN INTERNATIONAL TERRORIST’S FLORIDA MANSION HQ IS ACTUALLY TRUE. YOU’RE TELLING ME THAT THE FILM “HOME ALONE” IS ACTUALLY A DOCUMENTARY. “the Discovery Channel television program “Mythbusters” compared the penetration capacity of an airborne projectile shot from a pneumatic framing nail gun to that of a 9mm hand gun” HELLO YES AND A MERRY “WHAT THE FUCK” TO YOU AS WELL

anyway, so. there’s apparently a reason why the Number One hero, who can burn people with the intensity of a sun going supernova, is hiding here behind this concrete support column making frowny faces. nope. nuh uh. he ain’t about that. I don’t blame you buddy

so now he’s barrel rolling out of his hiding place and setting this dude THE FUCK ON FIRE because HELL NO. BAD ENOUGH I HAD TO WATCH THAT FUCKING MUSHROOM EPISODE LAST WEEK! YOU TAKE THAT SHIT SOMEWHERE ELSE

LOL look at his face

I know the context is actually him being all “I know I’m responsible for basically everything that happened and so that’s why I’m so grim and serious about this mission to set things right piece by piece,” but in my mind this pissed-off face is 100% all because this dude tried to shoot his eye out with a nail gun. look at that. you made him go full flame face again. beard and all. protecting his face so that it can hopefully melt any stray nails that get too close. nope nope nope

good lord. so what’s up next. let me guess the guy fighting Best Jeanist has like an atomic chainsaw or some shit

lol nope we’re just cutting back to Hawks and Jeanist chilling in the Jesla after they’ve wrapped things up

Jeanist has got some serious Groot energy you guys jesus christ he’s like 12 feet tall

oh snap someone threw a pipe at him now

today is just the chapter of Endeavor being assaulted by random DIY tools I guess

I mean, I get why they’re pissed at him obviously; I would be too lol. but tbh I also don’t really understand the “get out of here we don’t want your help” attitude that all of these people suddenly seem to have?? like it if were me, I would be fucking DEMANDING for him and the other heroes to be working round the clock to fix their stupid mess. I mean who else is gonna do it?? it’s their mess, I sure don’t want to be the one to clean it up instead. anyways but whatever lol

oh shit?

so they haven’t dropped the whole “OFA secret potentially gets revealed to the world” thing yet after all. that makes sense I suppose, it did seem like that whole thing wound up playing out a bit too easily

anyway so yeah

the locals are definitely none too happy. well at least Dabi’s got something to be cheerful about I guess

so now we’re cutting to the interior of the Jesla and they’re chitchatting about the current investigation

oh wow this actually makes a bit of sense now. so there was a reason they were keeping their distance from Deku

please note that even in this abstract Endeavor’s-Mental-Image-Of-Him panel, Deku’s eyes still don’t have the light in them anymore :( my poor son

also ftr I still think using Deku as bait in this particular sense is the shittiest idea ever ngl. like sure, let’s let the sixteen-year-old run around battling miscellaneous escaped prison convicts while we stay several kilometers away ON PURPOSE despite the fact that you’re using him as bait to draw out the Big Bad, who just a reminder can destroy anything with a mere touch and who you were all basically helpless against. what exactly are you all planning to do if Tomura or one of the other League VIPs actually shows up to retrieve him?? are you even keeping tabs on him at all in real time?? jesus

(ETA: well that escalated quickly lol.)

Horikoshi is all of a sudden dropping whole pages of exposition here and I can’t be bothered to summarize this lol so just,

a big fat YES to what Jeanist said, though. that’s why imo they would have been better off laying a trap at U.A. rather than just wandering around out in the open. I assume they’re trying to cut their potential losses because U.A. is full of students (and civilians), but those students also happen to be more capable than pretty much anyone else in the manga at this point. and tbh they’re already in life-threatening danger regardless of how things play out from here on, so they might as well at least try to use the few advantages they have right now. U.A. is almost certainly going to come under siege at some point anyway, so they might as well prepare for it

lol I don’t think I’m explaining this very well because I don’t have the patience right now to break it down point by point like it really ought to be, so for now I’ll just say that imo “U.A. siege” stands a good chance of being the eventual endgame even now, and so this whole “Deku runs around being bait” arc is really just killing time until then lol. like and subscribe for more rambling nonsensical takes such as this. maybe next time I’ll even put it all into one single sentence for maximum meandering senior citizen rant value

well it’s nice that they’re finally talking about all of this I guess

we readers have known all of this for months now but this confirms the heroes are finally caught up. ALSO, Hawks is so fucking smart, as always. kinda wonder if things would have played out differently if All Might had let him in on the secret a bit earlier. probably that’s why Horikoshi made damn sure they didn’t find out until after the War arc lol

OH MY GOD YOOOOOO HAWKS OUT HERE ASKING THE REAL QUESTIONS

“anyone else wondering why AFO bothered to raise Tomura as his fake heir for fifteen years when he was secretly planning on taking over his body the whole time” YES, [raises hand] lmao Hawks where the hell were you when I was debating this “AFO is the final villain and Tomura is just his pawn” thing on multiple occasions over the past several years lol

lmao seeing them debate the metaphysics of OFA and all of its mystical bullshit is seriously surreal you guys

JEANIST HAVE YOU CHECKED OUT MY META TAG I HAVE WRITTEN SO MANY ESSAYS. I ACTUALLY WAS PLANNING ON WRITING ANOTHER ESSAY ABOUT THE THING THAT I’M PRETTY SURE HAWKS IS ABOUT TO BRING UP, BUT I NEVER GOT AROUND TO IT WHOOPS, BUT MAYBE I WILL NOW LOL LET’S SEE HOW IT GOES

yes!!

WHICH AFO FUCKING ENSURED HE WOULD BE BY LITERALLY PLANNING OUT EVERY LAST DETAIL OF HIS FAMILY TRAGEDY, FROM SECRETLY GIVING TENKO THE QUIRK TO MAKING SURE NO CIVILIANS OR HEROES WOULD HELP HIM UNTIL AFO FINALLY STEPPED IN. I’M 1000% CONVINCED THIS IS THE CASE YOU GUYS. NOT JUST BECAUSE I’M NOT A FAN OF “THE WORLD IS A FUNDAMENTALLY SHITTY PLACE, ACTUALLY” TAKES BECAUSE MISTER ROGERS TOLD ME TO ALWAYS LOOK FOR THE HELPERS, BUT ALSO BECAUSE IT LITERALLY JUST DOESN’T MAKE A LICK OF SENSE OTHERWISE. THEIR ENTIRE HOUSE CAVED IN FFS, YOU’RE TELLING ME NONE OF THE NEIGHBORS FUCKING OVERHEARD THAT SHIT AND WENT “UMMMMMMMMM” AND WENT TO SEE WHAT WAS GOING ON?? “DIDN’T THERE USED TO BE A HOUSE HERE, AND LIKE A WHOLE FAMILY, AND SHIT?”

LIKE I’M SORRY, BUT IT’S ONE THING TO SAY IT’S REALISTIC THAT NOT A SINGLE PERSON WOULD ATTEMPT TO HELP THE WANDERING TRAUMATIZED CHILD AFTERWARDS (WHICH I DISAGREE WITH AS WELL BUT AT LEAST THAT’S MORE SUBJECTIVE), AND IT’S A WHOLE OTHER THING TO ARGUE THAT IT’S REALISTIC THAT NO ONE WOULD BE FUCKING NOSY. LIKE THAT’S A WHOLE DIFFERENT LEVEL OF “THAT’S NOT HOW ANY OF THIS WORKS” ENTIRELY LOL. anyway tl;dr AFO is a piece of shit and Tomura’s entire worldview is based on a magnificently intricate and savagely cruel lie more at 11

anyway so after all that ranting it looks like that wasn’t even what Hawks was talking about after all lol. I just went off for absolutely no reason lol oh well. instead it seems that Hawks is suggesting that Tomura’s carefully cultivated hatred might not yet have actually reached “can defeat OFA” levels even after all of that trauma. interesting!

don’t mind me, I’m just sitting here while my brain furiously scrambles to put together all the parallels between Hawks and Tomura that it never noticed before until exactly this second. like I’m not even sure that was the intent here at all (I need to check out another translation or two lol), but regardless my mind decided that now would be the perfect time to make the connection between these two twenty-somethings who both had horrific childhoods and spent years being molded by their respective manipulative guardians, and developed eerily similar “laugh at everything because what else can you do” coping mechanisms to deal with it all hmmmmm

anyway so they were talking more about their strategy, but now all of a sudden Jeanist’s phone is beeping??

AND NOW WE’RE CUTTING AWAY TO ALL MIGHT AND HIS MIGHTMOBILE DAMMIT so that means the call to Jeanist was actually something important then!! WAS IT BAKUGOU OMG. DOES YOUR INTERN WANT A WORD FFFKLFSJK please it’s been so long I just need a little crumb or two to tide me over lmao have mercy

anyway so All Might’s following the GPS tracking device he’s apparently got planted on Deku (which in my conspiracy headcanons he’s actually had for a long time now, like since before DvK2 lol because HOW ELSE WOULD HAVE HAVE KNOWN THAT THEY WERE FIGHTING EACH OTHER IN GROUND BETA, PEOPLE) and thinking angsty thoughts about Deku’s sucky life

AND NOW ALL MIGHT’S PHONE IS RINGING TOO?? BAKUGOU HOW MANY PEOPLE ARE YOU CALLING. “WHERE ARE YOU HIDING THE NERD GODDAMMIT”

OMG

lol is he under attack or is he just finally giving All Might the slip like we all know he SECRETLY PLANNED TO ALL ALONG oh my poor dumb angstmuffin

OMG AHHHHHHH WHAT

DID ALL MIGHT JUST FUCKING DIE LMAO NO OF COURSE NOT, BUT WHAT

WHAT IS HAPPENING OMG

THE FUCK IS THAT. AT LEAST IT’S NOT A NAIL

OH IT’S A SPEAKER!! OMG DID THEY TAKE ALL MIGHT HOSTAGE

“THEY’RE HERE” WELP, TIME TO SEE JUST HOW SHITTY THIS SHITTY PLAN REALLY IS LOL

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

SHE!!!!

omg. AND OVERHAUL JUST CHILLING THERE IN THE BACKGROUND ALL “WHAT DO YOU EVEN WANT ME TO DO I’VE GOT NO FUCKING ARMS” YEAH GOOD RIDDANCE LOL

DOES THIS GIRL HAVE ONE GIANT LEG OR WHAT, LIKE WHAT’S THE DEAL HERE

-- HOLD UP WAIT, THE GUN IS HER ARM, HOLY SHIT SHE CAN TURN INTO A GUN -- OKAY HOLD UP BECAUSE I NEED TO SAY THAT IN BIGGER TEXT BECAUSE !!!!

YOU GUYS, THE COOL TARTARUS GIRL IS BACK AND HER QUIRK IS “CAN TURN INTO A FUCKING GUN.” THIS IS NOT A DRILL!! MY BEST GIRL MT. GUN IS FINALLY BACK ON THE SCENE WITH HER QUIRK “CAN DO ANYTHING A GUN CAN DO.” “I HEARD Y’ALL WENT AND NAMED ONE OF YOUR HEROES ‘GUNHEAD’ EVEN THOUGH HIS HEAD ISN’T EVEN A GUN, LIKE WTF IS UP WITH THAT LET ME SHOW YOU HOW IT’S DONE” DANG OKAY

lmao only fifteen pages this week, and STILL NO KACCHAN (THEN WHO WAS PHONE!!!), but man I don’t even care because finally we’ve got a cliffhanger that’s actually deserving of being a cliffhanger! hot dog. okay then

#bnha 311 #endeavor #hawks (bnha)#takami keigo #shigaraki tomura #best jeanist #all might #midoriya izuku #cool tartarus gun transforming girl #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha manga spoilers #makeste reads bnha

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demonprincezeldris · 2 years

Note

Bellion flinched back as Meliodas enters his cell, the door clanging. He represses the urge to cower at the rage flowing off of him. The other Commandments, who'd been glaring him down from their posts around the room, where he wS chained against the wall, backed off a bit as Meliodas strides forward and strikes him, fist curled as his head whips to the side with the blow.

"I want to know what the fuck you were thinking, Bellion. And don't lie, Galand is here. If I have to go get Gowther to dig around in your brain for an answer, I will. But he's with Zeldris right now."

"I-"

Another strike, this time his knee driving into his stomach. "I don't want an excuse, I can recognize that look on your face. Tell me the TRUTH."

This exchange went back and forth, each blow, each cry and yelp, echoing in the cell. Bellion was gasping for breath, blood dripping from his nose and mouth where a tooth had been knocked loose, clattering against the stone floor.

"I thought-" Meliodas paused for a moment, bloodied fist held back while he raised an eyebrow. Bellion gasped for breath, chest heaving. "If Zeldris made his way into Brittania, and drew the attention of goddesses, and I showed how well I could defend him, I'd be placed higher up on consideration for the commandments! H-He's a demigod, so I knew if the archangels sensed him, theyd come for him, m-maybe thinking he was YOU trying to hide yourself and failing. B-But because of that- he could- he'd be able to escape if need be!"

His face had dropped and Meliodas grabbed the lower half in a tight grip, raising his gaze back up. He felt a pulse of satisfaction at the fear he saw there. "So. In order to gain the favor of the commandments, you kidnapped Zeldris, used him as bait in Brittania to draw the archangels, making them aware of his existence in the process, failing miserably to defend him, and almost getting him killed in the process, as he is a toddler, and would not be able to run nearly fast enough to escape the fucking Archangels of all the goddesses. Is that correct, Bellion?"

"....."

"Answer me!"

"Y-Yes! Yes, your majesty, that is correct."

"Hm." He lifted his nose up a little, and tightened his grip. Bellion whimpered as his nails broke skin, blood escaping down his fingers as he only dug deeper. "Let me let you in on a little known fact, Bellion. The Ten Commandments are not just a team of elite soldiers. We are, in fact, a pack." His eyes widened a little, and Meliodas kept going. "When you are given trials to see if you qualify, we test your strengths, wits, and battle prowess, yes. We also test to see if you'd be compatible as a pack member with the rest of us. That INCLUDES your compassion, your mercy, and how well you interact with the pack's kit. If you're not keeping up, Zeldris is, in fact, the pack's kit. And you put him in serious danger, with no reason other than the POTENTIAL it could benefit you."

Bellion had finally lost the last of the blood in his face, and he was shaking. Meliodas leaned in real close, hissing his next words, though he was sure the present commandments still heard. "The slim chance you had of getting in is now gone, completely, zero. You will NEVER be a commandment. I haven't decided on your entire punishment, but I may very well have you black listed from having a team ever again. Oh, and by the way. Though I was the first to beat you, the others all want a turn. One by one, each commandment will do with you as they see fit. Death would be a mercy, by the time we're all done. A mercy you will not recieve."

He clenched hard enough for his jaw to snap under his hand. "And THATS because I'm tired of hearing you talk." He threw him back against the wall, chain rattling, and kicked him one more time in the stomach, just for good measure.

Time to go wash the blood off and release Gowther from watching Zeldris. He's sure his pack dad had a lovely round of psychological torture planned for Bellion.

He relishes in hearing Bellion's screams as he stalked back to where his brother was. He slipped inside after washing the blood off, his anger melting slightly as he saw Zeldris curled in Gowthers' lap, his little hands continuing to knead subconsciously. Gowther looked up as Meliodas slipped inside. He gently handed Zeldris over, who whined at being exchanged yet again from person to person. He was quick to relax, murmuring "baba" quietly as he started kneading again. Gowther hauled himself onto his chair as Meliodas told him that he was free to torture the bastard any way he please.

As Gowther left, Meliodas slipped back into the nest, watching his brother sleep, his chest rising and falling.

#Pack mentality #Meliodas #Zeldris

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kj-1130 · 3 years

Text

Nothing For Me

Part 7

Main Masterlist

Part 6|Part 8

You and MJ’s relationship continued to grow as time went on.

As she started her first year of high school, you worked on yourself, wanting to be good for her.

Overtime, you learned how to process and deal with things better. You focused on yourself and your developing relationship with MJ and needless to say, things started to look up.

The ‘present but not really present father’ thing didn’t affect you as much as it did, but it was still there. It was one of the only things you hadn’t fully processed and to be honest, you didn’t think you ever could.

Your father is there, and has been aware of presence for almost a decade. And not once has he given you any type of consolation or love like a father should. You would think after Pepper was getting more involved in his life and forcing him to clean up (most of) his act, he would open his eyes and realize that a whole human being was living with him, waiting for him to realize that they were supposed to be relying on him; not an AI built in the comfort of their room.

But nope. Absolutely nothing changed. If anything, things got worse.

He was away more often, focusing on the Avengers. Or he was with Pepper, the new love of his life.

You tried not to linger on the situation often, knowing it would only lead to pain in your chest. So you just stuffed it in the back of your mind, hoping one day that the pain would just lessen all together.

About two months ago, you and MJ had decided to make things official after going on your first date. At first you talked about how fast the two of you were going, but Michelle simply said ‘we’ll be u-haul lesbians then.’ That was the end of the conversation.

Currently, you and your girlfriend were facetiming. You would’ve made the trek to her house but she was about to study and you both knew that you’d distract her. Plus the two of you were due for some time away from each other considering the fact that you’re at her place almost everyday.

“Okay, so I found this recipe the other day and I’m just now remembering it.”

MJ looks at you confused, “Okay?”

You roll your eyes playfully.

“I wanted to try it with you. After my ban from your place has been lifted.”

“It’s not a ban,” she chuckled.

“Well, it sure as hell feels like one ba-” “Mr. Stark has arrived with a guest,” M.I.A cut you off.

“Who is this guest?”

“Secretary of State, Thaddues Ross,” the AI replied, pulling up pictures of the man.

“Hey M, I’m gonna call you back.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she nods, looking a little concerned. “Take all the time you need. Let me know if everything’s okay.”

The two of you give your goodbyes and you ask M.I.A to pull up the live footage from the conference room.

“Perspective. The world owes the Avengers an un-payable debt. You have fought for us, protected us, risked your lives… but while a great a=many people see you as heroes, there are some who would prefer the word “vigilantes”, is what you first hear when you start watching.

Immediately your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“And what word would you use, Mr. Secretary?” Natasha asks.

“How about ‘dangerous’?” he replies. “What would you call a group of US-based, enhanced individuals who routinely ignore sovereign borders and inflict their will wherever they choose and who, frankly, seem unconcerned about what they leave behind?”

The secretary activates a screen behind him which begins to play the previous battles the Avengers and SHIELD have fought in.

“New York.”

He clicks a button, footage of chitauri, shooting guns, and Hulk smashing plays.

“Washington D.C”

A new video appears, showing the insight helicarriers firing at each other with chaos following.

“Sokovia.”

The frame changes, showcasing the terrified citizens that were on the flying piece of land.

“Lagos.”

“That’s enough,” Steve interrupts.

Ross nods in response and begins his speech again.

“For the past four years, you’ve operated with unlimited power and no supervision. That’s an arrangement the governments of the world can no longer tolerate. But I think we have a solution.”

He places a thick document on the table and slides it across to Wanda. As the team slides the book to each other Ross starts talking.

“The Sokovia Accords. Approved by 117 countries… it states that the Avengers shall no longer be a private organization. Instead, they’ll operate under the supervision of a United Nations panel, only when and if that panel deems it necessary.”

“The Avengers were formed to make the world a safer place,” the Captain begins. “I feel we’ve done that.”

“Tell me, Captain, do you know where Thor and Banner are right now?” There was a momentary pause as the two men’s eyes met. “If I misplaced a couple of 30 megaton nukes… you can bet there’d be consequences. Compromise. Reassurance. That’s how the world works. Believe me, this is middle ground.”

At this point, you’re walking out of your room after transfering the feed to your tablet and making your way to the elevator.

“So, these are contingencies,” Rhodey states.

“Three days from now,” Secretary Ross begins. “The UN meets in Vienna to ratify the Accords. Talk it over.”

Natasha speaks up, “And if we don’t come to a decision you don’t like?”

“Then you retire.”

The elevator stops and you look up seeing the Secretary walk in with someone behind him. You give him a subtle disgusted look before turning your attention back to the security footage.

As the deathtrap descends, you can feel his eyes lingering on you.

“Can I help you?”

“You’re a little young to be an intern.”

“You’re a little old to be looking at me like that,” you shrug, swiping away from the video on your tablet as you feel him looking over your shoulder.

Ross gives an awkward chuckle and furrows his eyebrows. When you reach the bottom floor, he gets ready to step out and places a hand on your shoulder.

You look at him like he’s lost his mind.

“You seem like a good kid. Be sure to make good choices.”

Raising an eyebrow, you refrain from saying what you want to say. You lift your hand and gently take his off of you.

“Don’t touch me,”

Once he exits, you hear the chatting start back up.

“Secretary Ross has a Congressional Medal of Honor,” Rhodes told Sam. “Which is one more than you have.

“So let’s say we agree to this thing,” Wilson starts. “How long is it gonna be before they LoJack us like a bunch of common criminals?”

“117 countries want to sign this. 117, Sam, and you’re just like, ‘No that’s cool. We got it.”

“I have an equation,” Vision announces as you get back on the elevator.

“Oh this will clear it up,” Sam mutters.

“In the eight years since Mr. Stark announced himself as Iron Man, the number of known enhanced persons has grown exponentially. And during the same period, the number of potentially world-ending events has risen at a commensurate rate.“

“Toaster oven’s got a point there,” you mumble, stepping back on the metal deathtrap.

Steve asks,“Are you saying it’s our fault?”

“I’m saying there may be a causality. Our very strength invites challenge. Challenge incites conflict. And conflict… breeds catastrophe. Oversight… oversight is not an idea that can be dismissed out of hand.”

“Boom,” Rhodey says.

You see Tony lying on the couch, quite relaxed, contradicting the tense atmosphere.

“Tony,” Nat starts. “You are being uncharacteristically non-hyper-verbal.”

“It’s because he’s already made up his mind,” Steve explained.

“Boy, you know me so well,” Stark starts, getting up and rubbing the back of his head. “Actually I’m nursing an electromagnetic headache,” he pauses to grab a mug of coffee. “That’s what’s going on, Cap. It’s just pain. It’s discomfort. Who’s putting coffee grounds in the disposal? Am I running a bed and breakfast for a biker gang?”

Tony puts his phone in a basket and taps the screen. An image is projected of a smiling young man.

“Oh, that’s Charles Spencer, by the way. He’s a great kid. Computer engineering degree, 3.6 GPA. Had a floor level gig at Intel planned for the fall. But first, he wanted to put a few miles on his soul, before he parked it behind a desk. See the world. Maybe be of service. Charlie didn’t want to go to Vegas or Fort Lauderdale, which is what I would do. He didn’t go to Paris or Amsterdam, which sounds fun. He decided to spend his summer building sustainable housing for the poor. Guess where, Sokovia.”

He pauses for a second as the team soaks in the information.

“He wanted to make a difference, I suppose. I mean, we won’t know because we dropped a building on him while we were kicking ass.

“There’s no decision-making process here. We need to be put in check! Whatever form that takes, I’m game. If we can’t accept limitations, if we’re boundary-less, we’re no better than the bad guys.”

“Tony, someone dies on your watch, you don’t give up,” Steve rebuttals.

“Who said we’re giving up?”

“We are if we’re not taking responsibility for our actions. This document just shifts the blame.”

“I’m sorry. Steve,” Rhodey blurted. “That-that is dangerously arrogant. This is the United Nations we’re talking about. It’s not the World Security Council, it’s not SHIELD, it’s not HYDRA.”

“No, but it’s run by people with agendas, and agendas change.”

“That’s good,” Tony starts. “That’s why I’m here. When I realized what my weapons were capable of in the wrong hands, I shut it down and stopped manufacturing.

“Tony, you chose to do that. If we sign this, we surrender our right to choose. What if this panel sends us somewhere we don’t think we should go? What if there is somewhere we need to go, and they don’t let us? We may not be perfect, but the safest hands are still our own.”

“If we don’t do this now, it’s gonna be done to us later. That’s a fact. That won’t be pretty.”

Wanda finally speaks up, “You’re saying they’ll come for me.”

“We would protect you,” Vision promised.

“Maybe Tony’s right,” the redhead speaks. “If we have one hand on the wheel, we can still steer. If we take it off--”

“Aren’t you the same woman who told the government to kiss her ass a few years ago?” Sam interrupts.

“I’m just… I’m reading the terrain. We have made… some very public mistakes. We need to win their trust back.

“Focus up,” Tony says. “I’m sorry, did I just mishear or did you agree with me?”

“Oh, I want to take it back now.”

“No, no, no. You can’t retract it. Thank you. Unprecedented. Okay, case-closed--I win.”

From what you see, Steve stands to leave abruptly.

You then walk out of the elevator, tablet still in hand with the footage up. The captain walks past you just as you turn the corner and spot the team.

“Someone’s upset,” you hum.

You walk past everyone towards the fridge and grab a water bottle.

“Anyway, that was very childish. And kinda stupid.”

Inquisitive looks are thrown your way and you hold up the tablet awkwardly as you plop down on a chair.

“I was watching you. I kinda do that a lot. It’s not as creepy as it sounds.”

You open the bottle and take a sip.

“What are you doing down here kid--”

“Ahhh,” you interrupt. “Don’t call me a kid. I haven’t been a child for years.”

“Just answer the question,” Tony snaps.

“I like to stay informed. No one tells me anything and while you think that these private meetings only affect you, it doesn’t. It affects me too. You may not remember I’m your child but several people do. And that puts me in danger. So yes, I listen to your conversations to make sure it’s nothing I need to worry about.”

An awkward silence washes over as you gulp down more water.

“Anyway, I was just riding up and down the elevator waiting for you guys to finish. That Ross dude is kinda creepy by the way. But you’re really considering signing that thing?”

“Not you too,” your father mutters.

You let out a laugh and everyone looks at you strangely.

“Is this funny to you?” Rhodey asks.

“Yes,” you stop laughing abruptly. “I find it hilarious that this is the same government that was ready to drop a nuke on the city during the Battle of New York not giving a damn about a single civilian that was still in the area. I find it hilarious that this is the same government that lets thousands of children and women of color go missing and not do a thing about it. It’s funny that this is the same government that let HYDRA, Red Room, AIM; all that shit grow right under their nose. It’s funny because this government is the same one that uses taxpayer money for dumb ass projects and unnecessary military funding instead of using it to fund shit that helps the civilians they claim they care so much about. I mean how can you not find this situation amusing?”

“Look,” Tony attempts.

“I’m not finished,” you challenge, looking him dead in the eyes. “This government don’t give a damn about y’all, especially not the three of us,” you say, gesturing to yourself, Sam, and Rhodey. “We’d be booted out of this country before you could even blink if they ever got the chance and you know that.

“I don’t know why y’all are so adamant on gaining the government’s trust when they don’t give a flying fuck about you or these goddamn civilians. All they care about is power. They don’t care how many civilians come up missing or die in some tragic accident. It doesn’t matter what happens. When they see someone becoming richer or smarter or more powerful than they are, they will do anything to shut that shit down.

“I don’t understand how you can’t see that. And maybe it’s just me. Maybe it’s just me and my experience,” you pause, catching the gaze of every person in the room with hard eyes. You take a deep breath and try to calm down. “Sign it if you want to. Think about how many lives you’ll lose then.”

You stand from your spot and walk into the open elevator, ready to get to the comfort of your bed.

It had been two days since the initial meeting and you were currently sitting on Michelle’s bed watching her read.

“You’re really pretty,” you muttered out of the blue.

You saw your girlfriend’s cheeks develop a subtle red tint as she mumbled back a ‘thank you, and continued reading. You groan and gently pull the book out of her hands.

“Hey,” she quietly protests.

“Please,” you pout, holding your arms out as an invitation.

MJ fondly rolls her eyes before lowering herself onto you. You hummed contently and squeezed her before planting a kiss on her cheek.

She surprised you by turning her head and giving you a lingering kiss. That one kiss soon turned into something more.

Michelle gently pushed you onto your back and straddled your hips. Bending down she kissed you once again, her lips gliding with yours.

This continued for a few minutes, taking small breaks in between to breathe. You don’t think you could ever get enough of her and hoped that she was feeling similarly.

You kissed until your jaws hurt. The euphoric feeling still lingered as MJ rested her forehead against yours, trying to catch her breath.

“We should do that again sometime,” you mumbled.

Your girlfriend nodded in response, giving one more chaste kiss to your lips before dropping to your side.

“Tomorrow,” she said after glancing at the clock that read 10:47.

“Guess I’m spending the night then.”

“I have no problem with that.”

The next day, you were awoken by beeping from your phone. Once you were fully aware of your surroundings you picked up the device and read the notifications that M.I.A sent through. Scanning through them, you sat up with urgency and played the video.

“A bomb hidden in a news van ripped through the UN building in Vienna. More than 70 people have been injured. At least 12 are dead, including Wakanda’s King T’Chaka. Officials have released a video of a suspect who they have identified as James Buchanan Bares, the Winter Soldier. The infamous HYDRA agent, linked to numerous acts of terrorism and political assassinations.”

Carefully removing Michelle’s arm from around your waist, you stand up and move to the corner of the room. You press the contact and hold the phone up to your ear.

“Nat what the fuck is going on?”

You hear the woman sigh on the other side of the phone. “Look, just… stay wherever you are.”

“Yeah, okay, whatever. I want answers, Nat.”

“(Y/n),” she says firmly. “Calm down and go back to whatever you were doing. Right now, this does not concern you and I would like it to stay that way. Do you understand me?”

There was some silence, before you let out a forced chuckle.

“Okay, whatever. Bye.”

“(Y/n) c’mo--”

You disconnected the call and gently tossed the phone onto MJ’s desk. “You sound stressed.”

Turning around to face the bed, you see Michelle sat up and leaning against the headboard. You nod slowly and crawl your way up towards her.

“I am.”

You feel her hand take hold of your clenched ones and she rubs them, causing you to relax slightly.

“There was a um, bombing at the--the um… signing thing. And no one wants to tell me what’s going on, so,” you end the sentence, shrugging.

MJ’s head drops onto your shoulder and you let her cuddle close.

“They told me to stay where I was. So hopefully we can get something good out of that.”

There was no response and you thought she had fallen back asleep, but you were proven wrong when your girlfriend started getting up.

“C’mon,” she instructed, holding her hand out when she saw the look of confusion on your face.

Taking her hand, the two of you made your way to the kitchen.

She turned around and grabbed your shoulders.

“We are going to make some breakfast… or lunch whatever. And then we are going to binge watch until we can binge watch no longer. Alright?”

You nod your head, chuckling and then got to work.

It had been days since you last heard from anyone. No updates from Natasha. M.I.A even told you there hasn’t even been a great deal of movement in the compound. Today you decided you would head back.

When you arrived it was quiet. As you walked down the halls you heard distant chatter and followed it.

Turning the corner, you were surprised at what you saw.

“What the hell happened?”

The two men turned to look your way, but you were given no answers.

Tony had bruises on his face and he looked more tense than usual. Rhodey had some sort of tech on his legs.

“You fought them. You fought them all, didn’t you?”

Both men looked away and avoided your gaze.

“You didn’t even listen to what I said. This is what the government does. I tried to tell you, but you didn’t even fucking listen,” you ranted, your voice slightly raising.

“Us breaking apart wasn’t the government. Most of this is on some guy th--”

“Well the government allowed it to happen so I’d say it is their fault!”

You turned to your father with pleading eyes.

“Where are they, Tony?”

“Kid, they’re criminals now, I don’t--”

“Stop calling me that! I’m--I’m not some kid. I’m not your kid,” you let out a frustrated breath. “You--you couldn’t talk it out? Like mature adults? You just had to go assert your dominance somewhere--in what? An--an airport? Some vacant lot? You just had to fight. Do you not know how to communicate?”

You looked at the two men, shook your head, and brushed past them.

Just when things were alright.

“(Y/n)?”

“What M.I.A?”

You were currently laying in your bed trying to control the tears that were begging to fall from your eyes due to the amount of overwhelming shit you had been hit with. You talked with MJ for a little while and while it helped a bit, you honestly were still feeling like… well shit.

“There’s a package for you.”

Furrowing your eyebrows, you head down to where the mail is usually placed, get the package with your name on it, and head back to your room.

Grabbing a pair of scissors, you cut the tape and open the box. Inside was a letter and a phone.

Hey sweetheart.

It was Natasha’s handwriting.

I’m sorry. I really am. We all are. I wish things wouldn’t have ended this way, but they did and we can’t really do anything about it now.

I listened to what you said. I listened and I tried my best to understand. I don’t think I ever wanted to sign the accords in the first place. The only reason I did so was so that we could stay together. So that I could stay with you. This team is the only family I’ve had in a long time. The fact that that stack of papers could end that scared me.

I just kept trying to convince myself that signing the Accords was the right thing to do; anything to keep this team together. Anything to keep everything from falling apart.

But the more I thought about it, I realized. You were right. Everything you said. This government doesn’t care. And if the government doesn’t care like they’re supposed to then we need to. People need the government, but they don’t have it. They do have us though. And they always will.

I love you. I didn’t say it enough and I don’t know when or if I’ll ever get to tell you that again. You are so precious to me and I’m sorry I couldn’t stay. If you ever need anything, you can always give me a call.

You wiped your eyes and gently picked up the phone. You held it in your hands for a moment before setting it down. You folded the letter back up neatly and placed both items in the top drawer of your nightstand.

You laid back down on your bed with less tears on your face.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

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jrosefangirl · 3 years

Text

Klaus Mikaelson Imagine/Fanfiction Idea

An imagine I wrote for Klaus Mikaelson with the potential to turn into a story or a series of one-shots. If I turn it into a story, I will likely use an OC instead of it being reader based.

This was originally posted on my other account thor-some-blog. I did not steal it.

Feedback is appreciated :)

*Third Person*

Digging through her purse, (Y/N) searched for her phone that was playing the telltale ringtone that she had assigned to her younger sister, walking through the Mystic Falls High parking lot towards her car.

“I’m a Barbie girl, in a Barbie world”

Finally, she manages to track down the device, only for the screen to fade to black and the song cut off as soon as she has it in her hands. (Y/N) sighs and goes to call Caroline back, but ends up running into a firm chest.

(Y/N) stumbles but warm, calloused hands on her arms prevent her from falling to the ground.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this, love.”

Her head snaps up at the accented voice, staring at the Original Hybrid in shock. His words cause her to flashback to the first time they met. She’d been hurrying out of the Grill, late for work and had crashed into him as he’d been entering it.

“What are you doing here?” (Y/N) drinks in the sight of him, all charm with a lingering sense of danger that thrills her to the core.

Klaus raises an eyebrow at her. “Are you not happy to see me?”

“I am,” she assures him. “I just didn’t think I’d see you again.” (Y/N) thinks back to the last time they were together. He told her that he was leaving Mystic Falls and they’d spent the night together in his bed, as well as other various places throughout his mansion. He kissed her goodbye the next morning and then he was gone. She cried as soon as he left. That was two months ago.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you,” he admits, raising a hand and caressing her cheek softly. “I had to see you.”

Her eyes flutter close as she leans into his touch. “You said you were leaving for good.” Her eyes reopen to gaze up at him. “We’ve already said goodbye.”

One side of his mouth quirks up as he shrugs. “I guess I just can’t stay away from you.”

Klaus leans forward but (Y/N) shakes her head in denial, taking a step back. “We can’t keep doing this, Nik. My family-”

“Will understand.”

She scoffs out a laugh. “Clearly you’ve never met Caroline. Did you forget what happened last time?”

(Y/N) knows that by the amused look on his face, Klaus is thinking back to when Caroline had caught them together. After running into each other at the Grill the first time, they bumped into each other twice more before Klaus offered to buy her a drink. While she had been well aware of all that he’d done to her sister and her friends, she couldn’t deny the pull she felt to him.

Klaus and (Y/N) started meeting in secret, at first it was just as friends, but soon enough she started falling for him and though he never said it, she knew he felt the same. She loved the thrill of their forbidden romance, until one night when Caroline showed up unexpectedly at her apartment. Using her key to let herself in, she caught them with their pants down, literally.

“I do believe Caroline created a new shade of red that night,” Klaus replies and (Y/N) has to hold back an amused smile, remembering just how red her younger sister had gone and the yelling that had immediately followed.

“That only proves my point,” she insists. “We can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep saying goodbye to you.”

He steps closer to her, invading her senses. “Then don’t say goodbye.”

“Nik...I told you before...I can’t.” When he told her he was leaving, he asked her to come with him. Thinking of her sister, her mom, her job, she turned him down. Her whole life was in Mystic Falls. Though she hadn’t anticipated the hole that he left upon his departure.

“Marry me.”

(Y/N) ’s eyes nearly bug out of her head. “What?”

“Marry me,” he repeats. “I know you, love. I know you’re afraid that one day I’ll get bored of you, afraid because you’re human and I’m a hybrid. Let me put those fears to rest. Marry me.”

He was spot on. Though she’d never said it out loud, that was the real reason she turned down his offer to go with him. She didn’t want to give him everything, only to suddenly have the rug pulled out from under her.

But she loved him. “You’re crazy,” she whispers.

Klaus shrugs and reaches into his pocket, pulling out a black velvet box. “Maybe I am.” He opens the box to reveal an oval cut diamond that is easily 5 carats, resting on a simple gold band. “But wouldn’t it be fun to find out?”

“It’ll never work,” she decides, shaking her head. “You’re an asshole.”

“And you’re as stubborn as a mule,” he retorts. “And bossy, and loud and irritating, but none of that matters because I love you.”

Her mouth drops open a little at his words. That’s the first time she’s heard him say that. While she had known for a while that he was in love with her, the words had never left his lips prior to this moment.

“Nik-” the words die in her throat as the phone in her hand begins to buzz once more. Aqua’s Barbie Girl fills the air once more as Caroline’s face flashes on her screen. (Y/N) glances from the phone, to the ring in Klaus’ hand, to his face and then back down to her phone.

“What’s it going to be love?” Klaus asks and she glances up at him once more. After a moment, a slow grin spreads across her face.

***

Caroline huffs as her sister’s phone goes to voicemail yet again. “ (Y/N) ,” she hisses into the phone. “Stop ignoring me and answer your phone. My grad party is in full swing and the only thing that is missing is my sister! Get over here and grab more ice on your way!”

She tucks her phone into her pocket and turns back to her guests. The boarding house is full of people there to celebrate the new high school graduates; her, Bonnie and Elena have been planning this since their freshman year. While she is glad to have her friends there with her, it doesn’t feel complete without her older sister. While (Y/N) may be seven years older than her, the two have always been close.

Throughout the rest of the party Caroline attempts to call her sister several more times, only for it to go straight to voicemail every time. When the party ends, Caroline heads home, intending to drop off her graduation presents before heading to her sister’s apartment to track her down and give her a piece of her mind.

However, upon entering her bedroom, Caroline is surprised to find a white envelope resting on her pillow with her name written on it in her sister’s neat script.

Taking a seat on her bed, Caroline rips it open and pulls out the letter inside.

Dear Caroline,

First off let me say how proud I am of you. You finally did it! High School is out of the way and I can’t wait to see what you decide to do next. Whatever it is, I’m sure that it will be spectacular because nothing Caroline Forbes does is ever dull.

I’m sorry that I wasn’t able to celebrate with you today, I promise that I’ll make it up to you. Something came up...or someone I should say.

Klaus came back today, and while I know that you don’t necessarily approve...I’ve decided to leave with him.

I love him, Caroline. I didn’t realize exactly how much until he was gone. I turned him down last time because I didn’t want to leave you and mom but I know now that you’ll be okay. I made the mistake of letting him go once and I’m not going to do that again.

I hope that you can find it in your heart to understand and if not I hope that one day you can forgive me.

I love you Care Bear, we’ll see each other again soon. For now, I’m off to see what the world has to offer with Klaus by my side. Don’t worry about me, I’ll be okay.

With much love,

The future Mrs. (Y/N) Mikaelson

***

Klaus and (Y/N) lay sleeping side by side in a plush king sized bed, curled into one another. A warm breeze drifts through the open balcony doors, fluttering the curtains as the bright moonlight shines down on the couple.

The newly wedded couple stays asleep as the night goes on around them, late night dwellers wandering the Parisian streets, the Eiffel Tower gleaming in the distance.

For the moment, everything is right. Everything is perfect. And neither one of them are aware of the future that is about to unfold before them.

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shadyteacup · 3 years

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Hello! If you’re free, I was wondering if I could have a request where 15y/o Dazai meets his future s/o which he feels comfortable around them and has good impression abt them. Like he’s wandering somewhere and suddenly run into them. They have a chitchat abt their thoughts on something and have fun talking to each other. Then leave and meet again when he joins ADA. (s/o is a weird kind of person, like out of this world)

I’m not an English speaker so sorry for my terrible English y-y. Btw, i love your writings!!💟

This is such an amazing idea! I had fun writing this! And dw, your English is spectacular ♡ Enjoy, dove!

Dazai Osamu x gn! Reader||Reader has a time traveling ability

Timeless

You were a time traveler. Your ability allowed you to visit places from different timelines. The only drawback was that you aged no matter where you were, even if you were using your ability. This meant that if you wanted to enjoy the present, you had to ensure that you didn't spend much time in the past. You couldn't visit the future.

But that was okay. You loved finding out the root of all problems. That's why you joined the ada. Your ability helped them to identify who the perpetrator was. You would travel in the past and be there at the crime scene at the right time. Then you'd come back and reveal important information like the hiding place of the murder weapon, or if they had been looking at the wrong suspect all along.

You were currently investigating the death of a businessman. His body had turned up near the docks. It was highly decomposed, and probably atleast 2 years dead. You decided to travel 2 years into the past, and made your way to the docks. While searching for the potential crime scene, you bumped into someone. A mop of brown hair stood a few steps ahead of you. The boy wore bandages all over his arms and neck, and had an eye covered. Judging by the absence of any outline of his eye on the bandage that covered it, and the lack of moisture, his eye probably wasn't injured at all. He was probably only wearing bandages to appear weak. But this was just an assumption on your part.

"Ah, I'm so sorry, boy. I didn't see you there!"

He looked at you with a dead look in his eye, then gave you the fakest smile to ever exist.

"It's alright. May I ask what you are doing at a place like this?"

You were taken aback by his cold demeanor. It reminded you a lot of your own self.

"I'm here to investigate a death."

You said. His eyes darkened at your words.

"You see, the body will be discovered two years later. No tangible evidence will be recovered, then. So I must find something useful here, now."

The boy smirked.

"Time traveling ability?"

You smiled.

"Yup."

His smirk dropped and he glared at you.

"I see. This is a dangerous adventure, dear. You might get caught in a string of trouble, one that might lead you to harm."

The boy's aura and dark look had made you suspicious about his employers, but now you were certain that he worked for the mafia.

"Don't worry. I'm pretty positive that the murder wasn't committed by someone from the mafia."

His surprise was momentary, but obvious. It caught your eye.

"Before you ask, no, I don't know your future self. Also, the method of the crime doesn't match the mafia's M.O."

He nodded, thinking.

"Well in that case, I don't think you and I should be enemies."

He chirped, a happy look on his face.

You were taken aback by the sudden change in his mood.

"Sure, kid."

You said, patting his shoulder and walking away, trying to find the crime scene. The area was littered with compartments and shipment goods. It all looked so similar, almost like a maze.

"Hey, kiddo, can you lend me a hand?"

He blinked in confusion.

"Um. Sure."

He was confused as to why you weren't afraid of him. You clearly knew he was from the mafia, but you still acted so casually around him. It made him think that you either represented somebody powerful, or worked for an influential employer.

You rummaged through your pocket, trying to find the picture. Handing him the the snap of the crime scene, you observed him as he peered into the paper.

"This way."

He said, walking between two cargo containers, and leading the way.

"I never got your name, boy."

He shrugged, peering at you over his shoulder.

"Does it really matter?"

You mimicked him, raising your shoulders in a lazy shrug.

"Maybe, maybe not. But I'd like to call you something other than 'boy'."

He hummed in thought.

"How about 'knight in shining armour'?"

You scoffed.

"I get the whole 'I'm helping you, so I'm a knight' thing, but I'm no damsel in distress."

He smirked.

"Oh? And what if I were to abandon you here? What would you do?"

You smirked.

"I'd find my way on my own. I don't need you, eye-patch."

He grinned at you smugly, stopping in his tracks and moving towards you. He leaned in, his face almost touching yours.

"And what if I were to overpower you, hmm? What would you do then?"

You shuffled closer to him, much to his surprise. You whispered near his ear.

"I'll ensure that you'll never be able to have kids."

Pushing him back, you snatched the picture from his palm, and continued searching for the location. He was astonished at your bravery. He always comes across as intimidating, and that was putting it mildly. You were very courageous.

Following you like a lost puppy, he watched you hide behind a bunch of wooden crates.

You patted the space next to you, beckoning him to sit there.

"The show's about to start, eye-patch."

You took out your camera and were ready to click.

That's when two men, clad in expensive suits walked over. One of them was explaining something to the other.

You began clicking a few snaps.

The guy who was observing, turned his back on the other for a second. That's when he brandished his knife and plunged it into the other's back. You were furiously tapping away on the camera's button, determined to get every detail of proof.

The victim suffered atleast 50 stabwounds, 53 to be exact, when the killer decided to stop and hide the body. You snapped every single second of the ordeal.

When the killer left the crime scene, the two of you got up, and dusted your clothes.

"Do you have any plans after this?"

He asked you.

"Well, not really. I was planning to grab a drink, maybe something to eat, before heading back."

You said.

"Or heading 'ahead', since I'm going to the future. I don't even know."

Dazai nodded his head.

"How about I treat you to a drink?"

You eye him suspiciously.

"I have no reason to harm you. You literally don't belong here, so I've got no reason to hurt you."

You hum in acknowledgement.

"Okay then. Lead the way."

....

"How old are you?"

He asked, swirling his drink in his glass.

"A few years older than you."

"Cryptic."

"Intrusive."

"Touche."

"You have so many questions, don't you, eye-patch. "

Dazai hummed, taking a sip.

"Consider me intruiged by your... ability."

He turned in his bar stool to face you.

"Why didn't you prevent it from happening?"

"Because if I break the flow of time, or even mess with it, everything will go haywire."

"And if you were able to prevent it, without disrupting the flow of time, would you have intervened?"

You gaze at your own glass.

"I would do some heavy research before I make my decision."

Dazai was curious. Did you not want to save people?

"Everybody has a reason for murder. Nobody wakes up one day and decides to kill someone. I'll dig into their lives and find out why the killer did it. And I'll decide whether or not preventing the murder would save an innocent life, or harm many others in the future."

"So, in short, you intend to play God."

You chuckled.

"If given the power, who in their right mind would turn down the offer? Everybody wants to play God. Our entire society is built that way. The one who has more money, more power, more influence, has the right to play God to those beneath them."

Dazai found you very interesting. The way you viewed the world was so unique. You were a textbook 'good person' but could easily become the 'bad guy' if given the resources. Good or bad doesn't really matter to him, he finds the difference between the two very confusing.

"Doesn't that make you, and everybody who has power, a "bad" person?"

You chuckled.

"Funny coming from a mafioso."

Downing the rest of your drink, you answer his question.

"The distinction between good and bad is so distorted. The same set of actions can be termed as good for certain circumstances, and bad for others. The villain is always the hero when you try to see the world through his shoes, and the hero is always the villain for those supporting the so called 'bad guy' ."

"I agree. I don't care about what's 'good' or 'bad' ,either."

"Then what do you follow?"

"What do you mean?"

"There must be some set of rules that you abide by. What are they?"

"I.. Don't have any. I'm a free bird!"

You tap your chin in thought.

"One must have something to fall back on when they don't know what to do. Something to blindly follow. For example, I follow a set of rules created by my morals and values. When I don't know how to proceed, I remember them and act accordingly. "

Dazai observed you as you spoke, absorbing every single syllable that floated out if your luscious lips. He was attracted towards opinionated, strong and focused people. He adores the look on people's faces when they speek about their passions, and express their opinions on matters. Even if he disagreed with them, the fact that they have a strong reasoning behind their actions, and the way they calmly portray their points so skillfully, makes him like them more.

The way you were effortlessly articulating your inner thoughts was something that he was fascinated by. He had so much going on inside, so much turmoil, that it was impossible for him to express it out in words. But you seem to be so sorted and disciplined. He loved that about you.

"You'll get there someday, eye-patch. Don't worry. "

You comforted, smiling at the young man.

He smiled back at you. For the first time that day, he had given you a genuine smile.

"You should smile more. It suits you."

He blushed at your words. It was a weird feeling for him. He didn't understand why his face was heating up, or why his ears felt like they were on fire.

Flicking your wrist to check the time, you sighed.

"Well, time to leave."

Dazai held your wrist as you were about to get up.

"Wait!"

You looked at him quizzically.

"Will we meet again?"

You tilted your head and smiled at him.

" I can't say for sure, but I do hope that we do."

With that, he watched you walk out of the bar. He only respected Odasaku. But now, he respected you, too.

....

Time skip to a few weeks later.

....

"L/N san, please get yourself together, we're expecting a new member to join us, soon."

You laid on the couch of the ada as Kunikida rambled on about how everyone must be in their best behavior to greet their newest member. Yosano was handling most of it, so Ranpo and you had no work to do.

"Yes, yes, Doppo. Also, it's Y/N."

You said, stretching your arms above your head.

"Y/N kun, you need to try this new type of cookie. It has two different flavors!"

Ranpo said, offering you a cookie from his bag.

You smile at him, accepting it.

"Yum!"

"I know, right!"

"Ranpo san, Y/N san! Please come here! Our newest member has arrived!"

Both of you lazily got up and strolled over to the front of the office.

"What is the big deal, Doppo-"

You stopped mid sentence when you saw the person standing at the doorway.

"Eye-patch!"

Dazai's eyes widened when he saw you, the one person who had managed to intruige him other than his deceased friend, standing in the office. The office where he was to work at, today onwards.

"Damsel!"

He said, pointing at you.

You scoffed at his choice of nickname.

"Ha! I knew your eye was fine!"

"Do you both know each other?"

Kunikida asked.

"Ofcourse they do. They met a long time ago, right, Dazai?"

Ranpk said, muching on his sweets. Ofcourse, he figured it out.

"Well, not that long ago for me."

You smiled.

Dazai had finally met you. He was elated.

"I'm glad we met again."

"Don't worry, eye-patch, we have a lot of time to catch up. ;)"

155 notes · View notes

the-bau-quinjet · 3 years

Text

With you, he wants it all.

Part 2!! You can find all the info about why this is such a mess in Part 1! Also, I totally meant to post this earlier but Taylor Swift’s new album wrecked my plans.

Summary: Reader is a famous singer with a murderous stalker. Spencer has to go undercover to protect her.

warnings: mentions of murder, anxious reader, stalker

Word Count: 9972

The next time you wake up, the room is significantly brighter. You feel around in the cold bed, realizing Spencer isn’t there anymore. You have to force yourself to open your eyes to combat the overwhelming urge to roll over and sleep for another twelve hours. The clock reads 12:07. You can’t help but think you deserve more sleep as you force yourself into a sitting position. Once you finally sit up, you hear someone shuffling around, whispering in the other room. It’s too quiet to try to make out the voice, but you definitely heard something. Without too much thought, you quickly jump out of bed, grabbing the only thing you can find that even remotely resembles a weapon- the bible from the hotel drawer.

Slowly, you push the door open, getting ready to make a break for the door to the hallway at the first sign of danger. Remembering everything from yesterday has you on edge as you move toward the kitchen area, looking for anything out of place. You duck around the pillar separating the kitchen from the living room only to find it empty. As you finally let your guard down, you feel a hand on your shoulder. Without thinking, you turn around getting ready to slam the book into whoever is touching you.

Spencer catches your arms before you hit him. “Hey, hey. It’s okay. It’s just me. You’re safe.” You breathe out a sigh of relief, dropping the book and hugging Spencer.

“I’m sorry! I just heard a noise and you weren’t in bed anymore and I wasn’t sure where you went and I wanted to make sure nobody else was in the room, but I-“

“It’s okay. Just breathe.” Spencer is rubbing soothing circles on your back as you cling to him as if your life depends on it. A few minutes pass, before you calm down enough to pull out of the hug. You run a shaky hand through your hair, moving to the kitchen to brew a pot of coffee.

“I put the coffee on so you can grab some when it’s done. I’m going to get dressed so we can figure out where we want to go for inspiration today!” You wink at Spencer before heading back into the bedroom to shower and change. You throw on a pair of jeans and a light sweater after squeezing the extra water out of your hair. You like to let it dry naturally on days like this.

You make your way back into the kitchen only to find Spencer has already changed into a navy and white plaid button down, khakis, and a navy cardigan. He is sitting at the table drinking his coffee when you enter the room. You immediately put the kettle on, reaching into the cabinet to pull out your tea collection.

“No coffee for you?” Spencer asks, gesturing to the half full pot on the counter.

“Oh, nope. Not for me. It’s only palatable if I add way to much sugar and then I get all antsy. I only have coffee if I have a really good reason to stay up.” You chuckle as you add the teabag to the mug you set on the counter. You sit on the counter, swinging your legs as you sip your tea.

“So, where do you want to go?”

“For what?” Spencer pretends to not know what you’re talking about.

“It’s time to start writing silly!” You grin at his deer in a headlights expression. “Spencer, I told you not to worry. We are just looking for general ideas right now. Anything that could potentially lead to a song. It’s more fun to observe others during this part of the process because the ideas are less specific.”

“I don’t even know where to start!” He actually seems nervous about this.

“Spence, let’s just go to your favorite coffee shop. And don’t tell me that you don’t have one. You’ve already drunk half that pot of coffee.”

“Why my favorite?” He actually looks taken aback at the suggestion.

“Well, for one because I’m not from here, so I don’t know where to go.” You try to backpedal, but you’ve started a list. Something he is all too eager to point out. “And two?” He’s got his brows furrowed, a look of pure confusion adorning his face.

“If it’s your favorite, then you’ve been there before.” You say it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Well yes, but your point?” The confusion is still present, but his words are laced with exasperation.

“You might just be comfortable enough in your surroundings to suggest a song idea.” You shrug as you say it, trying to make it feel more casual.

“You considered whether or not I would be comfortable?” He seems genuinely surprised now.

“Of course. I want you to help me, so I gotta butter you up.” You try to cover up your blush with a joke.

“Thank you.” HIs words seem surprised, but the two of you move on. Spencer grabs his satchel, and you your jacket, as the two of you exit the hotel to head to the café. You opt for walking since the weather is not too hot. You don’t say much during the walk. After the moment in the kitchen, you feel a bit nervous. A few fans stop you along the way for a picture or an autograph, but mostly you just enjoy each other’s company. Nobody pays much attention to Spencer, rather opting to ignore him to get your attention. Every time someone comes up to you; you make a point to say excuse me or smile at him before addressing the fans though. You just don’t want him to feel left out or like he’s not important.

You finally make it to the café. Spencer opens the door before guiding you in, again placing his hand on your back. You thank him as you make your way up to the counter to order. You order a chai latte for yourself, gesturing for Spencer to order his when the barista asks you if you need anything else. You make sure to add two scones to the order before sliding your card into the machine before Spencer has a chance.

“It’s my fault you’re here with me, so please. My treat.” He shakes his head slightly, a small smile forming on his face.

“How many times do I have to tell you, none of this is your fault?” He gives you a look as you two move to find a table after accepting the scones.

“I know.” You don’t sound sure as you take your seat. He doubles down the staring as you continue. “I promise. I know. It was just a joke.” You sound more sure of yourself that time, earning another smile from Spencer.

The barista brings you your drinks as you settle into the corner booth. You set your phone up on the table, pulling up the recording from yesterday. You pass Spencer your headphones from your purse so he can listen to what you’ve already come up with.

You take this time to really study him. The sun’s rays are streaming in through the blinds on the window, causing slight shadows to drift across his features. You take in the sharp lines of his jaw as he turns to look around the café, listening to the various melodies and lyrics you sang for the team. His brown locks appear golden as the sunlight reflect off the highlights. He’s sporting a slight stubble from not shaving for a few days. His hazel eyes drift across the faces of everyone in the room, not settling for long on any one person.

You shift your attention to his hands. He has one draped across the table, lightly tapping along as he listens. His long fingers are mesmerizing. You begin to recognize he is tapping out the melodies as if he were playing the piano. The other hand is wrapped around his coffee cup. You bite your lip as you think about all the things those hands are capable of. Your mind wonders as you stare. You are staring so intently at the way his hand grips the cup, you don’t notice when he removes the headphones.

Spencer clears his throat to catch your attention. “That was incredible. How do you come up with ideas so fast?” He looks like he knows exactly what you were thinking, but is too kind to bring it up. He’s just doing his job, and this isn’t a date.

“Oh, um thanks. I guess the BAU is just full of inspiration. The song writing process is a little different every time, but sometimes I can think of random lyrics and melodies.” You try to smile as you force yourself to focus. “Think back to a time where you felt an emotion really strongly. It can be whatever emotion you want. Then, try to put it into words. I like to use common phrases or metaphors because it can be fun to twist it into something new.” You close your eyes as you think back to how you felt the moment you understood there was a man out there killing people because he is obsessed with you. Maybe it’s a little too soon to write that one out. The idea does give you another way to explain it to Spencer. “It’s kind of like therapy. You can talk out your feelings and share them with people. It’s just a bit more public.” Spencer looks like he’s contemplating his entire life as you sit in this coffee shop.

“Spence,” you say it lightly to draw him out of his own thoughts, “don’t worry about it. You don’t have to share anything you don’t want to. I just wanted to get the ball rolling. Why don’t we try something else?” He looks grateful as he nods. “Great. Pick out someone in the coffee shop, preferably part of a group.” He looks around before his eyes settle on someone.

“Okay, now tell me what they’re thinking about.” He looks confused, like a lost puppy. “It’s called people watching. Just make up a story about what they might be doing here.”

You and Spencer discuss ideas for the next few hours. He picked out a young man, maybe about 19 years old. He was clearly here with friends trying to catch a break from studying if the backpacks on the floor were any hint. Spencer noticed all of that immediately of course, being that he is a profiler.

His story sounded just like the profile Hotch told you yesterday, although much less horrifying.

“White male, late teens to early twenties. He is likely a STEM major. This is the first time he has let loose in a while, normally choosing to forego the party life for studying. He likely has immense pressure on him from his family to succeed and do well in school.” You nod along, not having any idea where this information is really coming from. He sounds so confident, you can’t help but ask how he knows all that.

“You’re incredible. How did you figure all that out?” You stare in wonder at the man across from you. He doesn’t meet your eye, but responds nonetheless.

“His age is fairly obvious to observe. His bag is fuller than the others, indicating a major that requires more coursework. He keeps checking his watch, almost as if he knows he is wasting time that could be spent working toward a goal. The family pressure can be inferred by the other behavior. It is more likely a young adult is studious due to a strict upbringing with a focus on work ethic and goal-driven activities.”

“Amazing.” You sigh as you look around the room. “My turn.” You point to a couple sitting a few tables away from you. “Those two are exploring the possibility of taking their relationship past that of friendship. They obviously like each other and are too nervous to say anything.” Almost as if to prove you aren’t a profiler, the two lean across the table for a kiss. You laugh it off, knowing it’s just a game for you.

“Or maybe not. Either way, their song would be about new love. Something slow and pretty.” You smile as you turn back to Spencer. “Your turn again!”

The two of you go back and forth a few times. His stories were really just profiles, but after a few tries he leaned into the fun, game-like nature of people watching. Of course, his last story didn’t stray too far from profiling, but it was much more dreamlike in the way he presented it.

“The woman sitting by the window,” he said, subtly pointing to an older woman at a table alone, “she’s waiting to see her grandkids for the first time in years. Of course, she’s excited to see them again, but she’s nervous. What if they don’t like her? What if she can’t patch things up with her… I’m guessing daughter?” You smile brightly at the story. Family moments were usually the most inspiring for generic song ideas.

“Good job, Spence! What would the song be about?” The question clearly caught him off guard. For the past few stories, you asked how he came to those conclusions. It was so fascinating to hear how his mind works. This time though, you thought he could really be on to something. You give him an encouraging nod, as you set your phone up to record again.

“It could be about- about family.” He states it so firmly; you know he wants to say more. “She is sitting there thinking about the memories she has with her own parents and grandparents, so the song could be a reflection on days spent enjoying their company. Maybe future memories they can make together.” He smiles, albeit shyly.

“That is a really good idea! It fits with the vibe of the lyrics I came up with for Rossi.” You see the moment it clicks in his head. I don’t know why all the trees change in the fall, but I know you’re not scared of anything at all. Don’t know if Snow White’s house is near or far away, but I know I had the best day with you today.

He actually seems pleased with himself now. “We could work on that one tomorrow. We should get up and walk around though, we’ve been sitting here for hours.” You reach for his hand as you scoot out of the booth, pulling him along with you.

You stuff your hands in the pockets of your windbreaker as you head outside. You feel an overwhelming desire to be close to him, but you don’t want to overstep. The early evening crowd is out and about, bumping into the two of you as you walk back to the hotel at a leisurely pace.

“Why don’t we go order some room service and just hang out for the rest of the night? All that people watching was exhausting.” You turn to grin up at him as you continue walking. He hums in response, looking down at you in return. You swear you can feel the mood shifting, but the moment is broken by a tap on your arm. You turn to examine the source of the interruption only to find a little girl who couldn’t be more than 10 years old.

“Hi there!” You squeeze Spencer’s arm before ducking down to talk to the little girl. “Are you parents here?” She nods turning to look at a couple a few feet behind her, slightly out of breath, as if they just chased her down the street.

“Carly! Honey, you can’t run off like that! You could have gotten hurt!” The man scolds her, but is clearly relieved she didn’t get away from them.

“Sorry daddy! I just wanted to say hi to Miss Y/N! She sings my favorite song ever!” You wave at the parents before turning your attention back to the little girl.

“Hi Carly, it’s nice to meet you! You really do need to be careful though. You should always stick with the adults so you don’t get lost.” Your voice is playful, but your expression is serious. The only way to truly convey that message to a child you have no parental claim to. She nods in response.

“Mommy! Take a picture!” You pose with the girl as her mom takes a picture.

“We’re so sorry for interrupting your date! She just saw you and took off down the sidewalk.” You blush at what the woman is implying about you and Spencer, not daring to look at him.

“No worries at all. I’m always happy to meet a fan. Have a good night!” You wave goodbye, linking your arm with Spencer’s as you start to walk. He gives you a curious look, but you just laugh before joking “What? It’s so I don’t get lost.” He chuckles at your childlike behavior, but shifts so you can hold him closer.

The rest of the walk is peaceful. You don’t see any more fans, which is good because you aren’t paying enough attention to anything at the moment. You keep picturing the look on Spencer’s face right before the little girl interrupted you. What was about to happen?

Before you know it, you and Spencer are back in the room. He steps into the kitchen to call Hotch while you call to order dinner. You change into the FBI sweatshirt from yesterday and a pair of sleep shorts before settling on the couch to wait for Spencer. A few minutes later, he joins you on the couch after he hangs up. “The team has ruled out all the performers. It’s not surprising as the unsub wouldn’t be brave enough to perform for a crowd. They are still working through the lists of vendors and crew members.”

“Good. That’s progress. Progress is good.” You nod to yourself, trying to convince yourself everything is normal.

“Talk to me, what’s going on inside your head?” Spencer reaches out to take your hand while you stare at the ground.

“I don’t know. I guess it’s just hard. It’s hard to have such an amazing day and then think about how it only happened because people are being killed. I guess I feel guilty.” You keep going before he can interrupt you. “I know it’s not my fault that this guy is out there doing horrible things, but I still feel bad for enjoying myself while it’s happening.” You don’t have any tears left to cry. You look over to Spencer to find him staring back at you.

“Y/N, you are such a selfless person. There isn’t anything else you can do right now. We haven’t had any more victims, likely because nobody has posted about how excited they are for your shows since we still have 13 days before the next one. We are going to catch this guy.” You form your mouth into a soft smile before nodding at him. “What movie do you want to watch?”

You smile at his attempt to distract you. “You pick. Anything that will take my mind off things, but not require too much thinking.”

Spencer is racking his brain for a movie that fits your description when you hear a knock on the door. “Must be the food, I’ll get it.” When you return with the food, you find Spencer still thinking over movie choices.

“Okay, how about this. What do you like to watch when you really need a pick me up?”

Again he looks surprised that you would take his opinion into account. “Um, usually Doctor Who, but that’s not a movie it’s a-”

“TV show. Right. Is that the one where they fly around in a telephone booth?”

“First of all, it's a police box, not a phone booth. Second of all, Doctor Who started a quarter of century before Bill and Ted even went on their bodacious adventures. So really, they should just call it Bill and Ted's excellent rip-off, I mean at least then...”

You listen as he rambles about why people always think it’s a telephone booth. You can’t help but smile at how cute he is when he’s talking about something he’s passionate about. You don’t realize he asked you a question until he clears his throat with a confused expression.

“Sorry, I was rambling again.” He looks dejected, and you would do anything in the world to make him smile again.

“No, I’m sorry!” You scoot closer to him to convey your point. “I was listening at first I promise. It’s just, you looked so happy I got distracted. Let’s watch Doctor Who.” You turn to face the TV before you say anything else that makes you feel like a complete moron. He sorts through the food as you find the show online, setting it up to play on the TV. There’s random free episodes on demand, so you end up staring with the 11th doctor.

You are completely captivated by the show. Every so often, Spencer would comment on a theory about what one specific prop could mean only to have you cover your ears and warn him about spoilers. During an episode about creepy angel statues, he goes on a tangent about how Amy could have avoided the whole situation. Once he starts mentioning characters you haven’t met, you actually have to reach your hand up to cover his mouth to get him to stop talking. His words putter to a stop, eyes widening in shock as he stares at you.

“Spence, I absolutely love how passionate you are about Doctor Who. But it doesn’t matter how adorable it is when you ramble on about something. If you spoil one more thing before I can actually watch the whole show through, I will not hesitate to smack you.” You stare right in his eyes the entire time, watching as they widen with each word. You had to get a lot closer to him to actually reach his mouth. He had moved forward, animatedly waving his arms around as he talked about various plot points, so you were basically sitting on his lap to avoid being smacked in the face.

You drop your arm from his face slowly, as if any sudden movement would break the spell you were under. You lean forward, connecting your forehead to his. You take a steadying breath as you close your eyes. Your about to close the gap when his phone rings. Again, the moment is lost. You only move enough so that he can reach into his pocket for his phone. As he answers the call, you shift in his lap to cuddle into his chest.

“Morgan, what do you need?” Maybe you’re imaging it, but he almost sounds the slightest bit annoyed. You can just make out what Morgan is saying on the other end of the phone.

“Calm down, Pretty Boy. We might have a lead, Hotch and Emily are tracking it down now. I’ll meet you at the hotel in the morning to go over it all with you and Y/N.”

“Okay, thanks for the update.” He sounds so normal now, you think you must have imagined the annoyance earlier. He hangs up the phone, tossing it next to him on the couch. He wraps his arms around you before shifting so you’re both laying down.

“Let’s just relax and watch more Doctor Who. Morgan is stopping by in the morning to talk about the case.” You nod in agreement, turning to face the TV. A few episodes later, you and Spencer are drifting in and out of sleep. Neither one of you really wants to interrupt what you’ve got going, instead opting to just fall asleep on the couch.

You hear the faintest knocking noise that pulls you out of your slumber. It takes a few minutes for you to recognize you are on the couch, wrapped up in Spencer’s arms. He must have pulled a blanket over the two of you last night after you fell asleep. Before you can get up to evaluate the knocking, the door opens and Morgan comes rushing in. The concern on his face is quickly replaced with a knowing smirk. You blush, jealous that Spencer is somehow still asleep.

“Hi Morgan. Sorry to alarm you. We must have fallen asleep watching TV last night.” At the sound of your voice, Spencer slowly begins to wake up. He smiles sleepily at you before realizing your attention is elsewhere. He practically throws you off the couch in his effort to sit up when he realizes Morgan is in the room.

“Sorry!” Spencer looks at Morgan, then back to you. “I’m so sorry!” You laugh as you stand up.

“Don’t worry about it.” You settle yourself in the chair, gesturing for Morgan to sit next to Spencer now that he isn’t sprawled across the entire sofa anymore. Turning to Morgan, you ask about the case “What did you want to talk about?”

“We have been focused on going through the people who work for the tour. It makes the most sense for them to travel with you, otherwise it would require a lot more planning.” You can feel the nerves growing in your stomach. “Garcia found a name we wanted to run by you.” He hands you a picture before saying the name. “Ryan Moore. He works-“

“On the instrumentals. I know. He usually runs the sound booth during the shows. I don’t know him that well, but we’ve talked a few times.” You think back over your past conversations. “It couldn’t be him.” You are 100% sure he is not the unsub, and the agents don’t fail to notice the conviction in your voice.

“What makes you so sure?” Spencer is flipping through the case file Morgan brought with him. He doesn’t even look up when he asks the question, too focused on memorizing every detail about this man’s life.

“Well, Hotch told me the unsub wouldn’t be able to talk to me right?” You look to Morgan for confirmation.

“Yes. He wouldn’t approach you or seem confident when talking with you if you approached him.” Morgan confirms what you’re thinking.

“Great. So it can’t be him.” You smile to yourself for actually contributing to the case. “Last week, right after the Columbus show, he asked me out. The unsub wouldn’t be brave enough, right?” The utter joy in your voice startles Spencer enough that he finally looks up from the file.

“Alright then. He’s likely not the unsub, but we’ll finish the investigation into him just in case.” Morgan settles back into the chair he’s sitting in, making no move to leave even though the conversation is clearly over. There is an obvious smirk on his face as he looks at Spencer.

“Well, I’m going to make some breakfast, feel free to watch TV or something.” You smile awkwardly at the two men, unsure of why there is suddenly a strange tension in the air. As you move into the kitchen, you connect your phone to your Bluetooth speaker. Listening to music while you cook has always been calming for you. You honestly prefer baking, but eggs and sausage with toast sounds perfect right now. You pull out the ingredients, humming softly as you dance around the kitchen. You can just barely hear that Morgan and Spencer are talking in the other room, but not enough to make out what they are saying. It just sounds a bit more intense the conversation you just had.

You choose to ignore it and give them their privacy instead focusing on cooking. You end up making scrambled eggs the way your mom taught you, by mixing in some chive and onion cream cheese. You pop some English muffins in the oven under the broiler while you place the eggs and sausages in dishes. After turning the music down, you move all the food to the table. You’re about to invite Spencer and Morgan to have some food when you hear their conversation.

“I’m telling you man. She likes you. You should go for it.” Morgan is clearly trying to encourage Spencer, but he won’t hear it.

“Morgan, it’s not like that. It’s probably just transference because I’m here to make sure she doesn’t get hurt. Plus, you saw the smile on her face when she talked about Ryan asking her out. She was beaming.” He sighs, almost wistfully as you consider what he’s saying. Surely you are capable of separating your feelings for him from the situation. Would you like him if you had just run into him on the street? Plus, what does Ryan have to do with this?

You move back to the stove to remove the English muffins before they burn, putting them on a plate as well. Ultimately, you decide to try to straighten out your feelings for Spencer before making a move. You want to be sure. If there is even a shred of doubt in your mind, Spencer will surely be able to see it on your face. Stupid profilers.

Their conversation died down while you were dealing with the muffins, so you walk back to the other side of the room. You mumble out “I made food, you’re both welcome to have some” before returning to the table. You have a lot to think about and the last thing you want to do is lead Spencer on if you aren’t sure. He deserves better than that.

The conversation over breakfast is nice. Nothing too heavy or serious. The three of you are just talking about your lives. Morgan asks you what it’s like to be famous. You ask him and Spencer what it’s like to be in the FBI. You realize just how different your career paths are. The only thing you can relate to is travelling. Neither Spencer nor Morgan have family in the area, but they mention how hard it is for Hotch and JJ.

“That I can understand. The travelling, I mean. Of course, I travel to perform, not to track down killers.” The room is quiet for a few minutes as you think about what to say. Morgan and Reid being profilers know you haven’t finished your thought, so they give you the time to think it over.

“Thank you.” You say it softly, but firmly at the same time. This is the first time you’ve seen either of them look surprised.

“Wh- for what?” It’s Morgan who speaks up. Spencer has a familiar expression on his face. It’s the same look he got when you asked his opinion for coffee shops and movies.

“For everything. For protecting me. For catching bad guys. For giving up so much to do this job. You two, and the rest of your team, you all sacrifice so much to keep people safe. I mean, I’m sure the people you save and the families you give closure to are grateful, and you deserve that. But, you also deserve to have everyone be thankful for what you do. You get into the minds of these people. It must be exhausting to have to think like that all the time. I’m barely dealing with it now and it’s only be on my mind for 2 days! I just can’t even fathom the number of people you have saved, people that you’ve never even met, by doing this. So, thank you. For being strong enough to do it. For being you.”

You spoke every word with every ounce of sincerity you could muster up. You were looking between them as you said it. The shock on Morgan’s face slowly morphed into a small smile. Spencer’s expression didn’t change, but somehow looked more sincere when you were done.

Neither one of them knew what to say. Morgan rose from his chair to pull you into a hug. Patting you on the back, he uttered a soft thank you before saying he should get back to the office to help the rest of the team. You locked the door behind him, turning to see Spencer staring at you from the table.

“Spence? Are you okay?” You were nervous that your impromptu speech made him uncomfortable. He rose from the table, slowly making his way across the room to you.

“I’m, I, I just… that was… thank you. You amaze me.” He barely says the words, practically breathing them into existence. You reach for his hand, squeezing it.

“I meant every single word. Promise.” There is nothing more you want to do than kiss him right now, but all you can hear in your head is Spencer talking about transference. You hug him quickly before pulling back again. Without some distance between the two of you, you won’t be able to control yourself. “Do you want to go to another café today? Or somewhere with a piano so I can finally see you play?”

“We can do what you want today. You let me pick the café and the show yesterday, so it’s only fair.” You grin, knowing exactly where you want to take him.

The two of you get ready in near silence after that. Both of you want to calm down a bit before spending another day together. After you’ve both showered and changed, you drag Spencer down to the SUV. The weather outside is perfect for where you want to go, but the park is just far enough away that you want to drive. You pull up directions on your phone, hiding the address from him. Spencer protests the entire time. He keeps mumbling about how he would know how to get there if you just told him where you were going. Then something about how mobile phones are a distraction, so it would be safer for him to drive anyway.

You just let him ramble on about the many DC streets. Your grip on the wheel tightens when he starts listing off statistics about car accidents.

“More than 38,000 people die every year in crashes on U.S. roadways. The U.S. traffic fatality rate is actually 12.4 deaths per 100,000 inhabitants. An additional 4.4 million are injured seriously enough to require medical attention. Road crashes are the leading cause of death in the U.S. for people aged 1-54.” With every passing word, your knuckles get whiter, your heartbeat gets faster, and your breaths get shorter. Spencer is too caught up in reciting the statistics to realize anything is wrong until he turns to look at you, his next sentence dying on his tongue. “Seatbelts reduce the risk of dying by…” His brow furrows as he takes in your appearance.

“By what Spence? Don’t leave me hanging?” You try to joke with him to calm yourself down, but he obviously sees right through it.

“45%.” He continues before you can even comprehend the number. “Y/N, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m totally fine. 100% A-Okay.” You try to take deep breaths to calm yourself down. Having arrived at your destination, you pull into a parking spot.

“Y/N, talk to me. What is it?” You take a steadying breath as you turn to face him. Honestly, you are embarrassed more than anything else. You were the one who decided you had to drive.

“Spence, really it’s not a big deal. I just get nervous driving sometimes. I don’t have to do it a lot, and I’ve never felt like I was particularly good at it. It doesn’t matter though, we’re here.” You move to get out of the car, but Spencer reaches across the car to stop you. His face is only inches from yours as the realization dawns on him.

“And I was rambling on about how dangerous driving is.” He says it more to himself than to you. “Y/N, I’m so sorry. Why didn’t you stop me? I really need to learn how to shut up. I just get so caught up in the statistics-“ “Spencer. I love when you ramble. I’ve already told you how calming it is… normally. I’m fine, I promise. You just have to drive us back to the hotel later. Deal?”

“Deal.” You’re both smiling as you get out of the car to walk around the park you brought him to. He doesn’t ask why you picked this place and you don’t offer up a reason. He’ll figure it out soon enough. You talk about random things from childhood as you lazily stroll through the trees. There’s something so calming about wandering through so many trees when you know you’re in the middle of a bustling city.

Before long, the two of you have crossed the park. A few feet away stands an upright piano in front of a park bench. You glance at Spencer as he looks at the piano, realization gracing his features as he discovers why you chose this particular park. You beckon for him to sit down next to you, asking him to play you a song.

He blushes as you whisper pretty please in his ear. The cherry on top does him in. Soon enough, you are hearing the beginning notes of Bach’s Prelude in C. You just sit and listen, watching his fingers gracefully move above the keys. He’s not the most passionate of piano players. You can practically see the gears turning in his brain as he moves his hands efficiently across the instrument, as if he really is thinking about the math behind it all. Still, you lose yourself in the music, swaying lightly. You find yourself leaning on his shoulder, closing your eyes as you think about everything you’ve been feeling.

You studied music for a few years when you were young. That’s how you started writing, with lessons to learn to play both the guitar and the piano. You took to the guitar more than the piano, but you remember learning about the emotion behind every classical piece you were taught to play. You can’t help but think back to those lessons as you listen to Spencer. This song is always reaching forward, yearning for the next note. It plays into the idea that life is simple and pure. Even good at times. But there is something lurking just below the surface. It’s weirdly fitting of your current situation, but you choose to just be glad he chose the major over the minor.

You feel the breeze in your hair as Spencer finishes the song. For a few moments, the two of you sit listening to the leaves rustling in the wind. Eventually, you look around the park once it is quiet again. It’s mostly empty given that it’s 2 pm on a Tuesday, so there aren’t many people around to witness this moment. You slip your phone on the piano to record before you take over, playing that all too familiar melody that reminds you of Spencer. Neither of you say anything as you let the music and your emotions guide you through the song. You can tell it’s not perfect, but it just feels right.

After that, you and Spencer brainstorm lyrics for Rossi’s song for another few hours. The park begins to fill up as school lets out and the workday ends. A few fans recognize you, asking for pictures. After a particularly strong gust of wind, Spencer drapes his cardigan over you as you walk back toward the car, both of you blissfully unaware of the figure watching you from behind the trees.

The next few days pass in much the same fashion. Spencer takes calls about the case, trying to narrow down the massive list of crew members on your tour. You and he work on lyrics for Rossi’s song, as well as JJ’s. She’s just so pretty, the words flow right out of you. You can tell Spencer agrees. You believe him as he swears up and down that the two of them are just friends, but you can’t help teasing him just a bit.

“Honestly, it would be weirder if you didn’t think she was pretty. The woman looks as if she were sculpted by Michelangelo himself. A living embodiment of Aphrodite.” He nods in agreement, a faint blush on his cheeks.

No matter how much you try, you just cannot come up with anymore good lyrics for Spencer’s song. It could be that he is sitting right next to you all the time and knows the song is for him that’s causing the writer’s block, but it’s still frustrating.

One night, he’s working through the case file for the third time in a row when you interrupt his thoughts with a seemingly random question.

“Spence, can you tell me a story?” He looks up at you, brow furrowed and eyes confused. “I just need inspiration for the lyrics. Everything I come up with sucks.” You pout until he finally gives in. “Yay! It can be anything, even a memory. Just make it overwhelmingly happy.”

Spencer stops looking through the file as he thinks back on his life experiences for an overwhelmingly happy memory. The faces of his team members instantly flood his mind as he sorts through the many good times they’ve had. He keeps circling back to one event, ultimately deciding it is happy enough to fit your standards.

“This is actually the story of JJ’s wedding.” You lean forward, a wedding story could be just what the doctor ordered. “Will wanted to marry her for a while, but she was hesitant. She said everything was perfect as it was, she didn’t feel the need to change anything.” You were honestly a little confused as to where the happiness was at this point, but you let him continue anyway. You could listen to this man talk for days on end without complaint.

“We ended up working a case with Will. It was a bank robbery turned hostage situation. It was a rough case for all of us; bombs, secret partners, kids at risk. I won’t bore you with the details,” he chuckles at your thankful expression, “but it all worked out in the end. Will, he could’ve died. When JJ went to see him in the hospital, she told him to ask her again. She wanted to get married then and there in the hospital chapel. Will wanted to wait until he was actually out of the hospital though, and not wearing a hospital gown.” You couldn’t help but smile at the thought of loving someone so much, you were instantly ready to marry them.

“Rossi, he overheard everything. So, he started planning. He called JJ’s mom, told her to fly in and to bring her wedding dress. We threw her a surprise wedding the next day. It was such a beautiful moment, to have such a joyous event after everything that we had been through. JJ looked wonderstruck as her mom walked her down the aisle. The lights were sparkling. It was enchanting.” He spoke with such awe about the whole event. He told you stories about doing magic for Henry and Jack, who you came to know as Hotch’s son. It was so easy for you to picture the fairy lights and purple flowers. The team seemed like such a close-knit family, it only made sense that they would share this memory.

The chorus of the song hit you like a ton of bricks. You didn’t even warn Spencer as you jumped from the couch and ran to the piano. He followed behind you, curious to see what would happen. He watched with wonder as you placed your phone to record on top of the piano and started playing the family melody you first hummed while thinking about him.

“This night is sparkling, don’t you let it go. I’m wonderstruck, blushing all the way home. I’ll spend forever wondering if you knew, I was enchanted to meet you.” The verses didn’t pour out of you in quite the same way, but the general storyline of the song came to you in the next few minutes. You rushed to get it all out, speaking directly into the phone.

“The first verse can be about feeling out of place in a room, faking laughter, forcing smiles. Then it all changes when she sees him. It’s as if they have a conversation with only their eyes as they float across the room to each other. Then the chorus. The second verse can be about her wondering if he felt it to. 2 am who do you love? Chorus again. Then the bridge can be about hoping that the one night wasn’t it for them. That she’ll see him again and hoping he isn’t already in love or with someone.” You’re so pleased with the song idea, you don’t notice the shifting expressions on Spencer’s face. After your explanation, you turn to him, the biggest smile he’s seen yet on your face.

“What do you think?” He’s so shocked he doesn’t know how to respond. After a moment of silence, your face begins to fall. You can’t stop your brain from thinking the worst.

He must hate it. Oh god, he’s just trying to find a way to let me down easy. Why do I have to be so stupid? Sure, go ahead. Write a love song about the man who’s sitting next to you. That won’t be weird at all. Oh god, oh god…

Suddenly, Spencer is pulling you into a tight hug. “It’s beautiful. It will make a wonderful song.” He’s whispering in your ear. The feeling of his lips brushing against you is too much. Everything you’ve been pushing back for the past few days comes roaring to the surface. You can’t stop yourself.

You pull back slowly, only to pull his face to yours so rapidly you’re surprised you didn’t get whiplash. In less than an instant, his lips are moving gracefully against yours. His hands slide down your body to your waist as he pulls you even closer to him. Your arms move up around his neck, your fingers running through his hair. The hunger and passion is slowly taken over by the need for oxygen, the two of you separating just enough to pull air into your lungs.

He kisses your forehead, and you kiss his nose. A few minutes later, and you’re still standing there with your heads pressed together, arms wrapped around each other. Every so often, one of you places a light kiss on the others mouth, just to make sure this is real.

“I know what you’re thinking.” You are still out of breath from kissing him, but you can just tell his mind is moving a mile a minute.

“I’m not sure you do.” He sounds nervous.

“I think I might surprise you.” You can’t help but tease him a little before continuing. “You think its all transference. That I only think I like you because you’re here to protect me. Some sort of white knight bullshit.” You can’t stop yourself from sounding mildly annoyed about it. Although, the look of shock on his face helps. “I heard what you said to Morgan.” He sighs before moving to pull back.

“No, Spence. Listen to me. I heard what you said to Morgan.” You wait for him to follow your train of thought back a few days.

“But that was four days ago?” He looks more confused than ever.

“I know. I wanted to make sure that what I feel is real. I didn’t want to lead you on if I might not actually want this. But I do. More than I’ve ever wanted anything before. Spencer, you are a light in my life and not just because you’re here to make sure I don’t get murdered. Although that certainly doesn’t hurt. I feel like I can tell you anything and you won’t judge me for it. That I can truly be myself without worry of letting you down.”

“Y/N you could never let me down. I just don’t want you to wake up one day and regret anything. I don’t want you to regret me.” He looks crestfallen.

“Spencer Reid.” You move your hands to his cheeks to gently push his head up to make eye contact. “I could never regret a single moment spent with you. I have loved every single one. I loved watching you listen to the songs about your friends. I loved listening to you talk about things you love, like Doctor Who and statistics. I loved sitting next to while you played piano. I loved talking to you about anything and everything. Spencer, I love how I feel when I’m with you and I know for a fact I would feel the same way if I met you walking down the street.”

“Y/N” the way he says your name is music to your ears. “I love how I feel when I’m with you too. I loved listening to you sing about my friends, capturing the essence of who they are. I loved watching you experience the things I have grown so accustomed to doing. I loved the feeling of you leaning on my shoulder while I played Bach. I loved hearing you come up with an entire storyline for one song in a matter of minutes just based on one story. I have loved every single second I have been with you since I first saw you 7 days, 2 hours, and 32 minutes ago. Even if I didn’t say a word to you until after you woke up in the hospital.”

The two of you laugh as you pull him to the couch to cuddle. You put on more Doctor Who, sitting with your legs across his lap and playing with his hands. It’s nice to just be close to him without having to worry. You find yourself getting wrapped up in the show. Spencer is quieter this time. You think he might have something on his mind, but you decide to wait for him to share. Between the third and fourth episode, he speaks up.

“Y/N, are you and Ryan… are you together?” You look up to see a nervous expression once again on his face.

“Ryan who?” You are genuinely confused as to who he could even be talking about.

“Ryan Moore, the sound booth guy.” You look even more confused than before.

“Not even a little bit. I politely declined his offer to take me out. Is that what’s been bugging you for the last three episodes?” You smile at his pout.

“Maybe. You just seemed so happy when you mentioned that he asked you out. You were practically glowing with how big your smile was.”

“Spence, I was happy because I could actually help you with the case. I only have eyes for one guy.” You shift to straddle his lap.

“Yeah, who’s that?” He pulls you even closer.

“Matt Smith” You say it with the best deadpan expression you can manage in the circumstances.

“Wow, your standards must be pretty low to settle for the 11th doctor. He’s not even in the top three best doctors!” He plays along with your joke, although he doesn’t have to act incredulous sat you preference for the 11th doctor.

“Well, my number one doctor isn’t really on TV.” You bite your lip, leaning in until you connect your mouth to his.

Right as you’re both about to take it one step further, your phone rings. “Fuck.” The word is barely a whisper leaving your mouth as you pull back from Spencer trying to catch your breath.

“Hello?” you don’t hear anything on the other end of the phone. “Hello? Anyone there? Hello?” Suddenly the line goes dead. You turn to Spencer. “Well, that was weird.” Spencer frantically moves you off his lap as he stands up, taking out his phone. Without telling you anything, he is frantically dialing a number, mumbling under his breath.

“Garcia! I need to you to figure out who just called Y/N’s phone.” He waits a minute, presumably listening to her reply. “Yes, it just rang and when she answered nobody said anything. Thank you.” He hangs up, swiftly moving back to the couch to pull you into a hug.

“What just happened?” You can feel your heartrate speeding up.

“It might be nothing, but that might have been the unsub. Garcia is tracking down the number that made the call right now. If it’s possible to figure out, she’ll have it done by morning.” He rubs calming circles on your hip with his thumb. “Why don’t you go to sleep? Try to get some rest?” You nod, rising from the couch.

“Spence, will you lay with me?” Your voice is small and scared as you ask the question. He simply nods, both of you changing into pajamas before meeting in the bedroom to lay down. You snuggle up close to him, trying to breathe in the same pattern as him until you fall asleep.

When you wake up, you can hear Spencer in the living room, talking on his phone. You want nothing more than to go back to sleep, but not if you can’t cuddle with Spencer while you do it. Throwing the covers off of you, you get up so you can actually see Spencer. He’s got his back to you when you open the door, so you sneak up behind him. He jumps a little with a surprised gasp when you wrap your arms around his middle.

“What? Oh, uh… I’m fi-fine. Everything’s fine. I was just surprised.” He spins around to hug you, giving you a slight glare. “By, um, a beetle. Yeah, there was a beetle.” The lie is so obvious you can’t help but laugh as you bury your head into his chest.

A few minutes later, he finally hangs up. “What did they find out about the phone call?” You mumble the question into the fabric of his cardigan.

“Less than we were hoping for. It was a prepaid cell, so Garcia can’t trace it back to the owner.” You squeeze him tighter, glad to have him with you through all of this. After a few minutes of standing with him, you reluctantly pull back.

“Well, we should get to work. These songs are not going to write themselves!”

You and Spencer retreat to different parts of the suite to get ready for the day. As much as you would love to jump his bones, it doesn’t feel right to take up his time with that when he could be working. At least if you were working on songs together it was part of the cover.

You ultimately decide to just sit in the park across from the hotel today. Normally, you wouldn’t even leave your room at this point in the writing process. You just don’t completely trust yourself to be alone with him at the moment. At least in public you can control yourself a little bit. Yet, the many people walking around the park do nothing to stop you from grabbing Spencer’s hand and playing with his fingers while thinking particularly hard about a certain lyric.

A bright flash of light draws you out of your reverie. You already know how the picture is going to look. You are laying across a blanket, knees in the air. Spencer is sitting beside you, reading messages from the team on his phone. His other hand is still between yours as you run your fingers over his knuckles. You are absolutely sure there is look of complete adoration on your face. You can’t bring yourself to care that the paparazzi took the picture. You have nothing to hide.

After the shock of the bright light fades, you notice a familiar face behind the few photographers in front of you. The shock of seeing someone for a second time floods your brain while you try to remember the profile Hotch told you that very first night. Without thinking too hard, you fling yourself into a sitting position. You gather everything you brought with you to the park, dragging Spencer along with you. He clearly doesn’t understand the shift in your behavior, but he’d gladly follow you anywhere.

It’s not until you reach your room that you look at him. He can see the fear in your eyes before you even open your mouth. “Baby, what is it? What happened?” He begins recalling everything from the moment the first flash went off, trying to figure out what made you so scared.

“I saw him.” You can barely hear yourself over the sound of your heart beating in your chest. “I saw the unsub. I mean, I think I did. He held the door open for us this morning when we left the hotel, and then he was in the park when the paparazzi were taking pictures. Hotch… he said to tell you if I saw anyone more than once in a day.” The words escape your lips in a hurry, trying to keep up with your flying thoughts.

“Okay, breathe. I’m right here. I’m going to call the team. Did you recognize him from anywhere else?” You try to picture the face in your mind, and suddenly you are seeing him everywhere. In the coffee shop that very first day. Behind the trees in the park with the piano. If you and Spencer were there, so was he. Just, normally you only caught a glimpse of him for a second. Definitely not twice in one day.

You rush to tell Spencer what you’re remembering. At this point, you don’t even know if it’s true. Maybe your mind is playing tricks on you. Just filling in this man’s face on other people’s bodies to fit the story that he is the one behind it all. Nonetheless, you give him the description of who you saw. White, probably 35ish, brown hair. You didn’t see his eyes, but they looked evil. The expression on his face just screamed serial killer. Maybe that’s in your head too. Who knows?

“I know I’ve seen that face before, I just can’t remember where. God, I’m useless. This man is hurting people and I can’t even remember where I’ve seen him before. Think. Think. THINK.” You’ve started pacing the room, trying to figure out who it could be. Spencer doesn’t say anything else to you until he’s finished the phone call. Even then, he’s more so humming and shushing you than really talking. He pulls you into a hug, trying to calm you down yet again.

“Y/N. You are anything but useless. You noticed he was there. That’s a step in the right direction. We are going to find him, and he is going to go to jail for a very long time.” Somewhere, deep inside, you knew Spencer couldn’t guarantee that, but you also knew it was better for you to listen to him than to force yourself down a rabbit hole you couldn’t dig yourself out of.

A few calming breaths later, and your asleep on the couch, wrapped up in Spencer’s arms.

It’s still dark when you open your eyes. You can hear someone moving around, but it’s too dark to see. Spencer isn’t with you on the couch, so it could be him, but something feels wrong. Why would Spencer be up in the middle of the night wandering around in the dark?

“Spencer?” Everything goes still at the sound of your voice. Yeah, that was not the best move you could’ve made… Before you can say anything else, you are knocked out cold. The sound of a lamp smashing over your head is that last thing you hear.

tag list:

@mac99martin , @wecouldbreakthedistance , @spencerhotchner , @girloncorneliastreet , @itsametaphorbriansblog , @moonshinerbynight , @meowiemari , @justanotherfangirl , @im-so-wonderstruck , @eevee0722 , @raining13lemonade @dilaudidwinchester , @silverdagger69 , @thatsonezesty13

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst #spencer reid #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid one shot #Criminal Minds #spencer reid x you

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kanene-yaaay · 3 years

Text

5+1 [Part 3]

5 times Iida was tickled and the one time he wasn’t.

[PART ONE]

[PART TWO]

Kanene’s note: Heyaaa! Okay, I just want you to know that I am WEAK for b-day tickles ! It's just so cute and :'3 *whispering softly* truly precious. Oh, Tenya is 12 years old now! Y a y

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* This characters don’t belongs to me! They all belong to the anime/manga Boku no Hero.

* This is a SFW tickle fanfic with family tickles, so, if you don’t appreciate this kind of content, please, look for another blog. There are a plenty of very greeat arts in this site!! ^w^)b

* This is Lee!Tenya with Ler!Hizashi + Ler!Aizawa with brief Ler!Tensei and Lee!Aizawa. All relationships are platonic. Around 1.800 words.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any and every advice is very very welcome! \(-w-)/

* Allow yourself to have a slow day. Don’t forget to drink water, sleep and eat! <33

[~*~]

Iida drank a second cup of his special orange juice - used only on commemorative days and events - thoughtfully. His birthday party would be late in the evening and, since his family wanted to make it a surprise, he would spend the whole day hanging out with his brother, Aizawa-san and Hizashi-san until all the preparations would be complete. He, of course, offered himself to help with all the decorations, but his parents were firm on their decision and Tenya would be lying if he said he wasn’t excited to have some quality time with his brother and the other two heroes. Their work usually demanded a lot of their time.

Still locked on his thoughts, as the doorbell rang, the teenager opened the door without a second thought in a polite stance, being rudely pulled out of his own mind as he stared at Aizawa and Hizashi, both with dangerous smirks that suddenly filled Iida with clear memories of a tradition Tensei started on the boy’s birthday and his ‘uncles’ (Tenya one day protested at the nickname, pointing it didn’t make sense call them like that because they aren’t blood related. However, his parents explained that this was just a way to express fondness and closeness for someone you care about. The younger one began to call them uncles with more frequency, except on social gatherings) caught on it as well.

“Hello! ~” Hizashi chipped, making goosebumps run down his spine as Iida closed the door on their face, internally wincing at the clear disrespectful act, however valuing much more his safety than being a polite host.

(But, actually, he wasn’t truly anxious about it. They were always nice and kind with him, making him smile and enjoy himself, even when he wasn’t the perfect model he struggled to be.)

Tensei’s head peaked from the second living room’s hall as he dashed at full speed across it, accompanying his baby bro with ease and drops of confusion. “Who was it at the door?”

“Uncles!” Tenya frowned in concentration as he turned the corner, lowering his speed enough to not go face first on the wall, cheeks slightly red and sputtering starting to become present on his tune. “They are going to do that hideous tr-tradition you started when I was a kid!” And Iida Tenya, future hero from a whole noble ancestry of skilled heroes, definitely did NOT pout at his brother’s carefree laughter.

“Oh, yeah! I forgot about that! It’s so polite of them to help me to remember, don’t you think?”

“No!! It’s not polite! High level heroes like you shouldn’t be committing such embarrassing, hideous act in the first place, even less repeating it yearly!!”

“Aww, you’re repeating your words. You’re excited, aren’t you?” Tensei smiled, knowing his brother enough to notice that gleam in his eyes and the lack of a real protest in his words. He ignored the squeaked ‘NO!’ thrown at him and smiled even wider, doing a fast maneuver that put his body between his brother and the door, hugging him on his chest with a ‘oof’ when they inevitably collided. “You know what? Since they’re being so nice with us, I think we should repay their kindness, right?” Tensei grinned when he heard the footsteps coming closer, shouting “HEY, GUYS! BIRTHDAY BOY IS HERE!”

“Tensei!!” But he was already smiling, squirming excitedly on his brother’s hold, especially when a loud, happy ‘YEAHHH!’ boomed through the house. “No, no!! This is betrayal! Deception! Dishonesty! Trickery! Treason!!!”

“Now you’re just reciting the dictionary.” Ingenium laughed, no hint of regret on his voice, distractedly nodding at his friends when they appeared at the door. “Look,” he whispered, conspiratorially, “I will need you to distract them until Shouta lowers his guard so I can sneak upon him. Hizashi would never pass up an opportunity to tickle him too, so you will be safe to run and get something useful for us to bribe them with, ok?” The younger gasped, quickly nodding. “Right. So, are you ready for your part of the plan, sidekick?”

“YES!” Iida chomped the air, voice louder than he originally intended, but his squeal even louder as the other Iida squeezed his side before any hint of what they were talking about could be noticed by the two guests, who now were now much closer, I might say.

“Now, now. It seems like a little listener here is excited for his so desired birthday tickles!!” Hizashi wiggled his fingers in his direction, meaneancily. “Oh! They grow up so fast! It feels like it was yesterday we would be playing heroes, and I, the most incredible villain LoudChaos would be defeated by Ingenium Junior and his vicious attacks of kicking his pillows at me!!” The blond pinched his cheek playfully, watching as the groan of his nephew dissolved in a determined look a few seconds later, energetic gestures following him.

“You will never be able to crack me, villains. Not even with embarrassing memories from my childhood!”

“I don’t know, I think those times when we had to buy at least three copies of your favorite plushie because otherwise you wouldn’t let us wash the original was pretty- ack! Hey, hey!” Tensei snickered as he tried to dodge from Tenya’s warning kicks, “I was kidding! I was kidding!”

“Want me to hold him?” Aizawa asked nonchalantly, a small quirk of his mouth showing his amusement about the whole situation. At Tensei's affirmative nod he held the younger’s arms above his head, briefly messing with his neat combed hair before smirking. “Congrats for being twelve years next to death, brat.”

Tenya deadpanned at him.

“Ooh, right, twelve!!” Hizashi’s fingers were teasingly getting closer, slowly and then even slowlier, almost touching a spot before pretending to launch at others, resulting in kicks and muffled shrieks from the younger one. “You know what that means, right, Shou?”

“Yes. We will have to tickle him for twelve entire years.”

“Aw, such a pity.”

“No! Lies! That is incorrect!”

“Is that so, not-so-little listener? What should we do then?”

“According to your rather silly and foolery tradition you should tickle me for twelve entire minutes. One minute for each year.”

Aizawa and Yamada shared a look, Tensei holding his chuckles and tears in the background. His brother was just way too much precious.

“We should what?” Shouta questioned with a voice completely devoid of emotion, maybe that is why Tenya felt the answer slip away from his lips easily even before he could register the potential trap.

“Tickle me!”

“Well,” Hizashi attacked, skilled fingers tickling and tickling and tickling every spot they could research. “If you insist.”

There were fingers dancing on his ribs and poking his stomach as a maddening prodding began to be delivered on his sides and even a squeeze found its way to his knee. A much more lazy, almost unbearably light touch drew shapes on his neck, scribbling lightly and softly to his ears and then all the way back to his collarbone, going from one side to another, over and over again.

“Coothie coothie coo, little listener!!” His loud laughter, intertwined with squeaks, yelps and guffaws due the mix between all the soft and energetic tickles, almost made the teasing disappear. Key word: Almost. “Have a tickle, tickle here!” He shook his head, trying to dislodge the fingers on his neck. “And tickle, tickle, tickle there!” Spidering on his shoulder blades made him squirm more. “Have all the tickles, tickly tickles everywhere!!”

“YOHOHOHOU WILL NOT DEFEHEHEAT ME!” Tenya’s smile was almost taking over his entire face, chuckles and giggles spilling freely from him. Yet, - he decided, - he has an important part of the plan and would not lose easily! That was the only reason why he continued firm on his position, figuratively laughing his head out, and definitely not because of how their attention and silliness made him feel happy, safe and loved.

“Of course not.” Shouta paused for a few pieces of seconds, checking his phone. “You still have five minutes left. I am sure you will agree to a defeat, eventually.”

“Nehehever!” Iida did his best to shout, quick, airy snickers floating in the air when Yamada decided to give him a break, leaving only Shouta’s torment to keep the other smiling.

“Hey, hey, hey, little listener!” Tenya knew this tune. He knew that when Uncle Hizashi used that he was planning something. His smile became wobblier and he refused to open his eyes. “Come on, don’t let me hang on here! Look at me, pleaaase?”

The boy just shook his head, eyes still firmly closed.

“Shoouuu, he doesn’t want to see the big, great, amazing surprise I have for him! That is not fair.”

“He is smart. It’s not his fault for your lack of charisma.”

“Gaaasp! You wound me! Friendship ended with Ereaserhead, now my new best friend is Tensei!”

A pause.

“Buuuut, the vacancy is still open if maybe, just maaaybe,” A wiggly finger tickled under his chin, a snort flew in the air, “a clever teenager with a cute laughter and blue hair decides to open his eyes…”

“Yohohou will not crahack me!”

“Please,” Poke, “Please, please, pleasepleaseplease!” Poke, poke, pokepokepoke-

“Stop!” And then he finally opened his eyes, finding a very smiley Hizashi in front of him, making a silly face. He half groaned and half giggled, the former action only due Aizawa’s tickles, of course.

“Aw, you didn’t find it funny?” The blonde crossed his arms, pretending to think about his next move. “Donut worry, then! I know something that will make you laugh!!”

And then, in a blink of an eye, he blew a gigantic raspberry on his tummy.

In the exact moment Tenya’s loud, uncontrollable, squeaky belly laughter exploded, Aizawa let go of his arms, a surprised, sharp snorts coming out as Tensei hugged him from behind, his hands being quick to attack his unprotect armpits, low muffled squeals and rumbling chuckles beginning to float in the air.

Tenya fell on his knees, hugging his stomach and tittering non stop as Yamada tenderly ruffled his hair, giving the boy’s cheeks another gentle pinch before getting his attention captured by his best friend’s tickled laughter, his wicked grin making another appearance.

“Is it already Tickle Shouta hours??” He cracked and wiggled his fingers, making a whole show of getting prepared, crackling in delight as the black haired adult laughed harder at the silliness, laying completely limp on Ingenium’s embrace, face starting to be colored by a light red, legs kicking and a hand hiding his mouth, even if the corner of his smile was still clearly visible.

And, as Iida laid on the cold floor, rarefied giggles escaping from time to time, as new laughter and teases filled the room, he thought that he actually didn’t mind that much that such foolery, silly tradition had wormed its way in their family.

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