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catxsnow · 4 years

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MOTHER DOESN’T KNOW BEST D.W.

Request: Would it be possible to request a Damian one shot abt him protecting you from Talia? Like she dosent like you at all so she tries to either kill you or manipulate you into breaking up with Damian.

Warning: Violence, angst, Talia being a b i t c h, mentions of blood.

A/N: Take two people. Never trusting mobile to post ever again. Anyways, I hope you enjoy rather than getting just the title lol

Word Count: 4.1k

Damian didn't like Gotham at first. It was cold, gross, the city was filled with those who didn't understand the greatness outside of the city walls. He hated being away from his mother and grandfather, as well as the strict rule that his father had given him. He was no prince there, he was nothing but a rich man's son.

It seemed at first that Bruce was doing everything in his power to suppress everything that Damian grew up with. No killing, no servants, even hiding him in the shadows with the assumption that his mother was going to take him back. It made Damian feel like this was never meant to be his home.

Even when moving to the Titan Tower, he still didn't feel at home. The people there were childish, irresponsible, he didn't fit in there as well. He didn't fit in anywhere until he met you.

You had joined the Teen Titans just a week after Damian had arrived. A broken upbringing with nothing but your mentors trying to get you to succeed where they never could. You had skills, too many not to put them to use. So, when Kori found you, she welcomed you with open arms - a home that would treat you right.

Much like Damian, you were cold and cut off. Maybe that was what attracted him to you, or maybe it was your skills that put him up for a challenge. Either way, Damian felt flustered around you and he hated it. Lucky for him, you were much the same way.

One long night of sparring with him - an endless battle that neither of you would admit defeat - you had finally broke him down. Damian had you pinned, and as much as he didn't want to let his guard down, he couldn't stop himself from leaning in to kiss you. He never acted like this, like a hormonal teenage boy.

Late night patrols, early morning training, as many hours throughout the day you would spend together. Your teammates - Beast Boy in particular - continuously felt left out whenever you and Damian were together. Only Dick was happy to see that the two of you were spending so much time together.

You were good for Damian. He was less harsh, more willing to accept others, hell he even said thank you more often. It wasn't like you had meant to change him - he just thrived to be a better person because of you. You were everything to him.

When years passed and it was time came for him to move back to Gotham, you had come with him. Damian wouldn't dare to leave you again. Not when he swore that he found - as many would say - his soulmate. You loved Damian, more than anyone ever had his whole life. The feeling for him was new, but he couldn't get enough of it.

It was the first time you were in Gotham. Just like the rumors, the city was horrifying. Crime was everywhere, people dying in the streets, you didn't know how Damian lived there for so long. This wasn't your home, but Damian was. Wherever he wanted to go, you were there with him.

Damian grabbed your hand from across the seat. He was you worried as you looked out the windows. Bruce's home was far nicer than anything you had seen so far, but the drive was still far enough away. You smiled as Damian kissed the back of your hand, a small gesture that made your heart flutter every time.

"You could have stayed, I would have come visit you often," Damian offered to you. A joking smile was on his face. He knew damn well that you weren't going to just stay with the Titans when he was across the country. You loved him too much to have that distance.

"Damian Wayne, if you think I'm gonna let you out of my sight you're mistaken," you half joked. Of course you trusted him with every fiber of your being, but you also knew how damn reckless he was. Bruce would have his back, but he needed a partner, not a leader. "Besides I know you don't sleep well at night."

Damian rolled his eyes. He had told you once that he slept better with you in his arms and you hadn't let him live it down since. You meant this in the best way, you loved to be the reason that Damian felt at peace. However, being in this city, you weren't sure how much peace you would have.

The gates of the Manor finally pulled into sight. You couldn't get over how massive his home was. Damian squeezed your hand as your mouth dropped in shock. You knew how rich Bruce Wayne was, but this? This was crazy. His home was larger than any home that you had ever seen.

Damian's excitement for you quickly changed. Instead of the empty drive way that he had expected, a singular person stood by the door. You watched as his nerves grew tense. It was a woman, dark skin and long hair. She stood as if she expected the world to bow at her feet.

"What's wrong?"

"My mother." You suddenly understood why he was so worried. Damian's mother was cruel, unloving, and only craved power. It had been years since she had dropped Damian off in Gotham and the same amount of time since he had seen her last. Whatever Talia was here for, it couldn't have been good.

The car barely stopped before Damian jumped out. His fists were tight at his sides as he approached his mother. Although you were sure he wished for you to stay in the car, you couldn't just wait. Talia looked less than pleased to see you stepping out of the same vehicle as her son.

Damian joined his mother's gaze. The grim look on his face softened as he saw you. As much as he didn't want you meeting his mother, he was glad that you were there to support him. Unlike usual, he didn't grab your hand, nor did you make the move to. Talia was not the kind of lady you wanted to make a bad first impression on.

It didn't seem to matter though. You hadn't said, or done anything, and she was already glaring at you. To her surprise, you only shot her the same look back. Bad impression or not, you were going to stand up for yourself. Damian would keep you safe, even if it was against his own mother.

"Who is this, Damian?" She asked. Talia acted as if you weren't even there. Damian had told you about her, but you never expected her to be this bad within the first five minutes of meeting her. Moving to Gotham, you were worried enough about meeting Bruce without his cape and cowl, you didn't think you would have to see her as well.

"This is (Y/N)," Damian told her. "A valued teammate, as well as... my beloved," he confessed while grabbing onto your hand for the first time since leaving the car. Talia's eyes narrowed at you - of course she had known everything about you. She kept eyes on Damian, and when you popped up, she learned everything there was to know.

Which meant that she already knew of your relationship. And, if you were to guess correctly, she knew of your departure to Gotham alongside her son. The whole reason she was in Gotham was to see you, or more so to analyze you. Damian should have been with royal blood, not a street scum like you.

"I want you to come home, Damian," Talia suddenly announced. While you only looked up in shock, Damian's face hardened. This was so like her - the second that he was happy and finally feeling at home she had to come in and ruin it. This time, he wouldn't allow it. She didn't control him anymore, no one did. Not even Bruce.

"No," he disagreed. His grip on your hand tightened - whether in frustration or a reminder that you were there - you weren't sure. "I am home. Gotham, the Titans, with (Y/N), this is my home now. I'm not leaving here, not now, not ever. Father is my legal guardian now, not you. You made sure of that when you left me stranded here."

"Damian you belong with me, you belong in the League," Talia's voice was tight. She was obviously trying not to take him by force, not while you were there. Damian was her son, and she would get him back by any means necessary. "Take your grandfather's place, this was what you were meant to do."

"I meant to be Robin," Damian argued. He had done great things under his new alias. So many lives saved, he had learned so much from being there. He learned from Bruce, Dick, his friends, you. He learned so much from you - he learned to love, not to fight. "I'm staying."

"I think it's time for you to go," You spoke up for the first time. If Talia's looks could kill, you would have been dead ten times over. No one ever talked back to her like that, and for someone as lowly as you? She couldn't accept it. If it wasn't for Damian stepping between the two of you, you swore that she would have made an attempt on your life right there.

Without another word, Talia left the Manor. You didn't realize how tight your grip on Damian was until he placed his other hand over yours. You loosened your hold, and as soon as his mother was out of sight, collapsed into his arms. Damian held you tight, though he wasn't sure if it was for your assurance or his.

"It's okay, my love," Damian whispered. He kissed the top of your head, your forehead, and finally your lips. "She won't be an issue for us, not while we're with my father."

"I trust you, Damian. Always."

It had been weeks since you were in Gotham. Bruce had taken you under his wing for the time being. Damian was protective of you as always, he wouldn't let you leave without him. To be honest you were happy that he was at you side. Gotham wasn't the kind of place you wanted to venture on your own.

It was different without your teammates watching you back. You only had Damian to have your six and sometimes that lead to some close calls. In the end, he always kept you safe. No matter the situation, he would protect you at all costs.

On that cold night, Damian had gone out with his father, leaving you home alone. Your wrist ached from your previous night, and although you promised that you were fine to go out, Damian insisted that you stayed in. So, with your wrist wrapped and a movie playing, you felt more relaxed than you had in weeks.

Damian left you that evening with a firm kiss and a promise that he would be back before you knew it. As always, you melted into his hold, never wanting to let him leave you. He left with promises to you of making up for it in anyway he could. Damian just wanted you happy while he was home.

He thrived every day to see you smile. Seeing you happy was the only thing that he cared about anymore. So, seeing your pout as he hopped into the Batmobile beside his father nearly convinced him to stay with you. Alfred was gone for the night which meant that you would be truly alone for the first time since you had joined the Titans. The silence would be tranquil.

Unfortunately for you, that peace didn't last long.

After training to be a hero your whole life, you could feel when someone was sneaking up on you. At first, you assumed it to be a robbery; Bruce was rich. But as Batman? His security was near impossible to get into. Whoever this was, they were good. Really good. Your phone buzzed beside you, but you didn't have the time to check what it was.

The blade of a sword sliced through the air, narrowly missing you. You had been just quick enough to roll out of the way. The intruder wore a mask covering the lower half of their face, but you had known instantly who this was. Talia Al Ghul.

You assumed she had come alone. If she saw you as nothing but a low-life hero from the streets, then she assumed that she could handle you by herself. Truth be told, you had never gone against someone as skilled as her, she could easily handle you on your own, especially with your weakened wrist.

You ran through the room and towards the kitchen. It was far closer than the entrance of the cave - and you were sure that she knew where it was as well. Talia ran after you. She ducked the second she ran into the kitchen - you had thrown the closest frying pan towards her head. Thankfully it distracted her enough to grab some sort of weapon - a knife.

It was much shorter than her sword and it felt awkward in your opposite hand. You hoped that Damian and Bruce were already on their way back, that it was him texting you earlier, but you knew not to get your hopes up. Alfred was gone for the night and you were truly alone in the house.

Talia twirled the blade around before lunging at you. She did attack after attack, each one barely being blocked by your knife. You needed to get to the cave, at least then you stood a chance with some actual weapons. Unfortunately, you weren't quick enough to block her next shot.

Talia's sword sliced through your shirt and into your arm. Blood soaked your skin as you cried out in pain. You knew that she didn't like you, but to go as far as to assassinate you within her son's home? That was pushing far past being a terrible mother.

Glass shattered as you ducked from her next shot. The lights above you sparked as she broke though them. The room had become pitch black and you only hoped to use that as an advantage. You knew this house far better than she did.

As long as you could get a head start to the cave, you would be fine. Silently, you slipped past her, hoping to avoid the crunch of broken glass on the floor. Talia was a trained assassin, sneaking around her would be impossible - and it was. The second she heard your footsteps, she had blindly attacked.

The tip of her sword nicked your cheek, but it was enough to let her know exactly where you were. Without caution anymore, you ran full speed to the entrance of the cave. Thankfully, you had made it before her.

You grabbed the first weapon you could see - Damian's backup sword. It felt heavy in your opposite hand, but as soon as you tried to hold it in your dominant, you nearly cried out in pain. Damian was right, you were too hurt to go out that night; then again maybe it would have been safer if you had. Talia must have been waiting for the opportunity that you were alone.

Talia stood before you, her mask still up. "What's wrong, Talia?" You asked, her eyes narrowed as you said her name. "Jealous that your son loves me more than you? Or maybe that Bruce cares for me more than he did you? This isn't about Damian not coming home, this is more personal than that, isn't it?"

"Damian belongs with royalty," Talia ripped off her mask. You knew that you were riling her up, but you only hoped that it would waste enough time for Damian to come, if he was coming. This was a fight you could not win alone, you knew that. "You're nothing but filth off the streets."

"So what, you're gonna kill me?" You backed away from her. Your heart rate was erratic from fear. Damian was a damn good fighter, but his mother? She was deadly. "How're you going to explain that one to him? How do you think he's going to react when he finds out that you killed the person he loves? He'll never want to see you again."

"He's never going to know it was me!" Talia raised her voice. She charged towards you, bringing her weapon down towards you. You just barely blocked it. The sword was extremely uncomfortable in your hold but you it was far better than a measly kitchen knife. She could tell you were weak from it.

Talia pushed down harder, the edge of her sword coming dangerously close to your face. In the blink of an eye, she pulled away and grabbed your weakened wrist. Talia slammed it into her knee, making you scream in agony. You dropped your weapon to grab your now broken wrist, falling right into her palm of her hands.

A forceful kick was placed against your ribs, knocking you down and making you completely at her mercy. Your body screamed in unbearable pain. Blood soaked your clothes, your bones broken or cracked. Talia had taken you down in a mere matter of minutes. You never stood a chance against someone like her.

To your surprise, Talia dropped her sword as well. There was no way that she had suddenly changed her mind or decided to give up, she had you right where she wanted you. The smirk on her face, knowing that she had defeated you so easily, was etched into your brain. Whatever she was planning, she had already won.

Talia pulled out the gun strapped to her thigh. You hadn't even noticed it until this moment. There was no way that you would ever dodge a bullet, not at this range. With a last chance of hope, you reached out for you sword once more - but she was too quick. A bullet shot rang out as it bounced off the floor inched from your hand.

You retracted back to your place, looking up at her with a grim look. There was no chance you were about to plead for you life. Talia had the gun pointed directly at your forehead. "You'll never have my son."

"Neither will you." Blood dripped down your face. You gripped onto your wrist, and tried to steady your breathing. You refused to look away from Talia's murderous eyes. Death awaited you - that was something you had to accept. Talia had no mercy.

Suddenly, a light blinded Talia's face. Her gaze was averted, but that wasn't what caused you to falter. A loud shot echoed through the cave, followed by a searing pain. In her brief moment of loss of attention, Talia had pulled the trigger. She had missed her hopeful target, instead the bullet and pierced your shoulder, creating a sickening crack as it went through bone.

"NO!" You knew this to be Damian's voice. He hovered above you, panic written all over. His hands pressed into your wounds to try and stop the bleeding. He could hear the battle of his mother and father but all that mattered was you. He was petrified for you. Your eyes wavered, wanting so desperately to fall asleep.

"You're going to be okay. I promise, stay with me. Beloved, you're gonna be fine. Stay awake, please. Please I need you. I need you to stay with me." He was the last thing you saw as darkness clouded over you.

Talia had done a lot of damage to you. The cut on your arm, and your cheek needed stitched. Your collar bone practically shattered and you would need to wear a brace for months before it was healed. The wrist she had snapped would heal like any other broken wrist would. Cracked ribs and a broken ego. You were benched for a long time to come.

Damian wouldn't leave you side. He was there if you needed anything or if you were in pain. Guilt clouded him, he should have known that his mother would do something like this. He was a fool to leave you alone like that. Never again.

"Be careful, beloved."

You liked the attention from him. Damian was at your side more than he ever was before. In private, he was constantly covering you in kisses. He showed a side of himself that you or anyone else had never seen before. It was nice to see him so... normal.

Damian spent every spare moment with you. Whether it was helping you with simple tasks that you were yet to be able to accomplish or be there to give you a kiss when you were feeling down. The last thing he wanted to see was for you to fall into a funk because of his mother. He tried his best to keep your spirits up but this was hard. Harder than anything you had done.

Years of being the one to save people and now you were the one that needed to be saved. It was unbearable. You hated the feeling of constantly needing help. Damian made sure to not suffocate you, he knew what it was like to hate feeling pitied.

Evenings were spent trying to get you back on your feet. Nights spent with Alfred, watching of your boyfriend and his father. Damian coming home to smoother you with attention the second that you were alone in his room. That was your favourite part of the days.

Everyone hoped your recovery to be speedy - even your teammates went out of their way to visit you. It was nice to see all your friends together again, as well as the rest of Damian's family that you had finally met. It seemed that everyone had gained a vendetta against Talia that night.

"Damian, I can do this, you just have to give me some space."

When you finally got the cast on your wrist off, you had gone straight back into training. Much to Damian's dismay - as well as your doctor's. The sling was still on your shoulder, and would be for several more weeks. However, you were tired of sitting around like this. You felt weak from the lack of training.

Damian watched as you stood under the pull up bar. You eyed it, curious as to if you really could do this or not. In one swift motion, you jumped up and grabbed the bar with your single hand. Holding yourself up wasn't the issue, it was a matter of if you could pull yourself up with only one hand like you used to.

With all the strength you could muster, you attempted to do a chin up. You had almost made it before your arm gave out on you. Your hand slipped from the bar and you barely landed on both feet. Damian was by your side in a second, though he could see how frustrated you were at this. He understood not being able to achieve what he wanted most.

"You don't have to prove your strength to me, beloved," Damian assured. He cupped your cheeks with both hands, pulling you in for a quick kiss. However, as the pad of this thumb swiped across the scar that his mother left he frowned. Even after all this time he still blamed himself of this.

"And you don't have to feel guilty for what happened," You countered. You placed your palm over top of his a small smile on your lips. "You came and saved me, that's what matters. Like you, Bruce, everyone, said, I'll get back to where I was eventually. Things like this happen, I can't let it stop me."

"You're too brave," Damian shook his head. Always pushing your limits, defying your odds. As much as he admired it, he wished that you wouldn't. Damian wanted you safe, and sometimes he questioned if that was ever going to be found while you were with him. However, he wasn't willing to lose you to test it. You were by his side, always.

"I learned it from you, my love."

#damian wayne #damian wayne imagine #damian wayne oneshot #damian wayne x reader #older!damian #batfam #batfam x reader #batfam imagine #dc imagine #dc one shot #dc #robin #robin imagine

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skyeofloxlay · 3 years

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Duskwood - thoughts, observations and summaries - Part 1.

It is likely that there are already people who did this, but I would like to point out some things that I ended up putting aside as the episodes went on, but that I realized when I was reading the prints I took or even when I was playing for hundredth time. Unfortunately I'm not going to put the prints here as they are not in English, so it doesn't help much. And maybe, most of the things I write are obvious, or that everyone already knows, but I would like to write something to have some of my thoughts on some. (or just to have a summary for when chapter 8 comes and I get lost)

(again sorry if it have English errors or something is confusing, English is not my first language @_@)

WARNING: This post will talk about Duskwood events, so you better play before you read! Also, this post is really big, so you might end up getting bored. YOU'VE BEEN ADVISED

1 - Thomas received our number on the second day of Hannah's disappearance, where he himself said he received the night. He immediately spoke to all his friends about the number and then they were arguing for a long time, until finally after thinking hard, the next day, Thomas decides to contact the MC (And of course, there is the fact that the message is gone.)

2 - Thomas tells us that he tried to call Hannah when he received the MC number, someone answered the call, but nobody said anything.

3 - Thomas has a brother, and that is something I always forget. I suppose he is a younger brother? Maybe someone who's not old enough to drive or idk.

4 - Richy tries to fit in with the MC, which is apparently an unusual behavior, since Cleo was incredulous at what he was doing.

5 - Jake acted very cold the first time we talked to him. But I don't remember exactly when it changed ... I think I should see it on the prints and mention it later.

6 - Jake probably follows the philosophy "The ends justify the means", since he does anything, no matter the consequence, as long as he gets to where he wants to go. (In fact, he literally says that the ends justify the means xD)

7 - We have to hack Hannah's cloud because Jake can't do everything, and he says he's busy following other clues, but what are those? I don't remember him commenting on what clues he's following, well maybe I'll find out by looking at the prints of future chapters.

8 - Jake says that we should decrypt the cloud, and clearly decrypting is not a candy crush game with cubes, but I would say that in "real life" (as much as I have researched about decryption, I didn’t find anything that could help me a lot to understand how it works) you use some program that Jake sent you, you take encrypted files that have several strange letters and put them in this program, which happens to be a little slow, so to pass the time you decide to play Candy Crush. Which is why it takes so long before you can send an unencrypted file to Jake.

9 - Cleo adds us before going to work.

10 - Thomas comes back some time later, I would say it could be half an hour after he sent the message saying he had to get his brother.

11 - On the day of Hannah's disappearance, Jake put all of her friends in a group and talked about the situation. By the time Jake did that, Thomas was on his cell phone, so he saw it right away.

12 - We know that Jake somehow witnessed the kidnapping, but how? How did he see if he didn't even meet Hannah in person?

13 - Richy's house is 5 minutes from Hannah's.

14 - Cleo and Richy have a conversation that we can read. And Cleo asked Richy where all the sympathy had come from (probably about him wanting to put the MC in the group) Apparently before he didn't want Thomas to contact the number.

15 - Richy assumes that Hannah has had enough time to write a single message. If we put him as one of the suspects, as he is being at the moment, then was it he who gave Hannah the chance to send a message? Or was it Richy who sent it from Hannah's cell phone? But…. I don't know ... none of those things really make sense.

Unless Hannah managed to get her cell phone while Richy was away, and then sent the message, Richy soon afterwards arrives and sees what Hannah has done, takes her cell phone and deletes the message. (And answer the phone, but say nothing)

(Or we can also assume that it was Jake who sent our number on Hannah's cell phone ... but that doesn't fit much for some things in the future, I'll explain later)

16 - Richy thinks that inevitably, if the MC is guilty it will end up escaping something.

17 - We were able to decrypt the first photo, that if I'm right, we are decrypting newer photos to older ones? But that is not a very important detail, I think. We sent the photo to Jake and he asks if we had found this photo in Hannah's cloud. But why? Isn't it obvious that it was from Hannah's cloud? Wasn't that just our only job? Decrypt and send whatever you can to Jake ??? If we say we don't know what exactly to look for, Jake says he doesn't know either. So we're kind of literally in the dark! We have no idea what we have to find and neither does he know. But he says that it is still for us to continue to send what we find, because something can be more relevant if we look in more detail.

(Okay, the next one isn't so much what I thought, but the conversation between Jake and MC, because I love the interactions that it is possible to do with Jake and I couldn't leave it out. * ^ _ ^ *)

18 - Jake wishes us good luck, but now (I think only for premium) you can say you want to talk to him. Jake then looks confused and asks what we wanted to talk about, and we can say we want to talk about him. He seems to be even more confused about why we want to talk about him. I don't remember the other options or if he says the same thing it doesn't matter what we answer, but if we say that we find him interesting he says that "You know I'm not going to tell you anything about me, right?" (Sure, of course Jake, for sure everyone believes that) if we keep insisting, he ends up giving in and says that we can ask only one question. We can ask: I think between his hair color, if he lives in the city or country, or what programs does he use to hack?

His hair color is black, if I'm not mistaken he says he lives in the city and the last question I don't know the answer to.

He asks why we wanted to know (in the case of hair, I don't know about the others, but he probably asks the same thing). I think that regardless of what we answer, he says he doesn't believe in what he just did, because he shouldn't say anything about himself. (That is, this is where we can start to make Jake's walls start to fall and we can get closer to him :) ) He also says that hiding his identity is essential and asks if we are happy now. If we say yes and talk to ask a question, he gets more confused and says "You didn't want to talk to me, did you?" Regardless of what we talk about, he asks us how the weather is. We can say between: What a boring question / It's raining / Very well, I would say. (I think those were the questions).

He then admits that it was not the most interesting topic, but we can say that it remains interesting nonetheless. He so says he hasn't had a conversation in a long time... (oh, I feel you Jake, I don't know how to talk to people either, but look, you're talking to me :) even though you don't really exist ;_;) He then asks if we were stuck on an island, what would we most like to have. I said that I would like to have books, and he says "hmm" (but if I'm not mistaken he says that for everything we answer) we can ask him what he would like to have, and he says he would choose his computer, but then he tells us to forget what he said and says he has more to do, and asks if everything was clear now.

19 - We can ask him if he doesn't ask himself who we are. And this point I find interesting. He says "You play a key role in all this mess. Why do you suddenly appear in such mysterious circumstances? What do you really have to do with all of this? Obviously, I wonder who you are. I already told you something about me again ... I'm going to have to go now. Otherwise, I will end up saying my name or worse. " This means that he would not have been the one who sent our number by Hannah's cell phone because he doesn't know who the MC is. There is less that he is lying very well, but I think not.

20 - Thomas asks if we have time to talk to him, and then says that in a way MC is one of them now. So he says he will put pictures of Hannah on his profile so that we can try to remember her in some way.

21 - Did we find a picture of a bridge? That's probably in the forest?

22 - Jessy then contacts us saying that she wants to get to know us better? Is it just me who found this strange and uncomfortable?

23 - Even though she never spoke to us and left the group, she says that MC is part of the group now. And she decides to talk to us in the middle of her work.

24 - We found out that Jessy works with Richy.

25 - She keeps trying to get to know MC more, which made me very uncomfortable because I really didn't want to talk to her and even then she kept talking to MC.

26 - So we got to see one more conversation, but this time it's between Thomas and Cleo, where Thomas says that he put some pictures for the MC to see, and said that it seemed strange, and said that there was nothing strange about the MC's behavior. So Cleo tells Thomas that then he cannot draw a conclusion about what role we (MC) play. Thomas then said goodbye and they went offline.

27 - Jessy talks to the MC again, nothing interesting that is worth mentioning.

28 - We found a photo of a cat in Hannah's cloud

29 - Thomas sends a message again, now asking if we recognize Hannah, replying that we really don't know her, he says "oh, yeah, it's okay" and goes offline.

30 - Jake answers us and we start talking about our findings. He says he will try to extract information from the photos.

31 - He asks for time to be able to analyze it and says he has an advantage for us, and sends a cell phone number. He says the police are very focused on Thomas and that we should be focusing on someone else. If we ask why we should do this, he replies, "As I said before, you piqued my interest. That's all you need to know at the moment." Then he tells us to add the number. And as soon as we added it, we found out the number was from Dan.

32 - Dan gets worried and says several no, and asks who sent us after him. You can choose from a few people to say who sent you there, but I think regardless of who you choose, he will say the same: "What? Fuck it. I don't care. Damn them. And you leave me alone." And then it goes offline.

33 - If you choose Jessy, he will ask her why she gave his number to the MC, and she says that she didn't, so he says that the MC is lying and that someone gave his number. Jessy also says that if he wants people to stop seeing him as a suspect, he just has to stop acting like one.

34 - We got a call. Someone threatening us.

35 - We contacted Jake and talked about what happened. Jake asks what the kidnapper said, and we can say "That I should stay out of other people's business." Jake asks what he looked like, and we can say he looked like a maniac.

36 - If we say that we had better follow the kidnapper's advice, Jake says that we shouldn't do that, and that there was nothing to worry about. And that we could consider that connection as something positive, because that meant the kidnapper was coming out of hiding, and that would make him vulnerable. And that he is probably concerned about the MC being in the investigation. Jake also says that we are a drag on the kidnapper, and that the MC can't trust anyone in the group. He also said that he was right about the MC and that we are going to save Hannah.

37 - Jessy calls us and other people in the group saying they found a body. She creates a group and adds us, Dan, Cleo and Richy.

38 - Jessy and Cleo argue.

39 - Cleo says she will tell Lilly about the body.

40 - And then in a way we kind of obliged to tell Thomas about the body.

41 - When we talk about the body found, Thomas immediately goes offline.

42 - We tell the group this.

43 - If we tell the group that we should have waited to tell Thomas, Richy says that MC would not say that if knew how much gossip is spreading around the city.

44 - Dan asks us what we think about Thomas's suspicious actions.

45 - Richy asks what we do now and Cleo replies that the only way was to wait.

46 - Everyone goes offline and after a while Jake sends a message saying that he has something new, that a corpse had been found. But he was talking about the same corpse that we discovered by the group, that is, we had important information even before him.

47 - He is impressed with how we got the information before him and how MC already seems to be part of the group.

48 - Then he asks if we got the picture of the cat in Hannah's cloud. (again, isn't that obvious??? This is our mission! Decrypt Hannah's cloud photos and files !!! Why do you keep asking that Jake ??)

49 - If we ask if there is something wrong to Jake, he just replies "Never mind. It's okay." And then it goes offline.

50 - We decrypt what appears to be a medical prescription, but which is in a terrible resolution. Jake says he will try to fix the image better and goes offline.

51 - Jessy says that Cleo invaded the junkyard

52 - Jessy says that the MC should make Cleo tell Richy what she did.

53 - Cleo says he needs to talk to us. She says she can tell us a little bit about Hannah.

54 - If we ask if Hannah has siblings, Cleo replies that Lilly is her younger sister, and asks if we didn't know that until now. If we say, "I meant besides Lilly". Cleo replies that Lilly is Hannah's only sibling.

55 - If we ask Cleo if it was possible that Hannah simply ran away, Cleo replies that there was no reason for her to do that since Hannah's life was starting to go well. She had a great family, an amazing boyfriend and was happy with her career.

56 - If we say that maybe things were happening that she didn't know, Cleo replies that she knows that everyone has secrets, but having such a terrible secret and having to escape Duskwood without a trace, she would know that. She also comments on the fact that the Hacker saw the hijacking.

57 - If we ask Cleo if she thinks the kidnapper could be someone in the group, she says she doesn't believe it is anyone of them.

58 - When asked if Hannah had any enemies, Cleo replies that she was not sure, and that everyone loved Hannah.

59 - At that moment we can question Cleo or not for the invasion of the junkyard. If we don't say anything, she just says that she has to do some things and that she can't sit and wait.

60 - If we ask her plan, she says she'll ask for downtown and maybe know if someone found Hannah before she disappeared. She spoke the names of three of the biggest gossips in the city: Mrs. Walter, owner of the hotel. Mrs. Sully, the queen of gossip and Phil Hawkins, owner of Aurora bar.

61 - She says the bar hasn't opened yet, but we can suggest to Cleo who she should talk to first. And then she says she'll talk to us later.

62 - We found a picture of Hannah apparently in the forest.

63 - We see a conversation between Richy and Jessy.

64 - Richy is talking about something Jessy said to us. He says that Jessy should be more careful with the MC and then says that Jessy should know something about the MC, but then he needs to stop by the office and not talk about what it was.

65 - Jake, who was reading the messages between Richy and Jessy, is annoyed that Richy didn't say what he wanted to say.

66 - We asked him if he was reading the messages, and he says yes, because you never know where you can find the next piece of the puzzle. If we ask him if he always reads other people's messages, he replies that only the most interesting ones and asks us if the MC was judging him.

67 - If we say that we are judging him a little, he says that the MC was also reading their messages. We can answer that we are doing this because he told us to do this. So he says we're only doing this so that we can find Hannah.

68 - Jake asks ask us what we think Richy and Jessy are talking about us. If we say we have no idea, Jake responds with "Really? Not even a hunch?" so we can say that we’ve never talked to Richy before, and Jake thinks that’s strange. Jake assumes that Richy would tell Jessy why he doesn't trust MC. We can then answer "Don't trust anyone. It's your words, not mine." and "Do you trust me?", Jake answers the question with "Would I have given you access to Hannah's cloud if I didn't?" We can then tell Jake that he doesn't even know us that well, and he says "Maybe Jessy wasn't the only person who felt an immediate connection with you"

If we ask "Is that a compliment?" Jake says yes, and he would talk to us later.

69 - Cleo sends a message saying that she arrived at the hotel, but that Mrs. Walter was not at the reception. Cleo then says that Lilly used to work at the Hotel reception before, but apparently she doesn't work there anymore. Cleo then comments that Alfie, Mrs. Walter's son, is playing in a mud puddle in front of the hotel. We told Cleo that she should talk to Alfie, and after a while she comes back saying that he had called her "Friend of the dead girl" and then Cleo replies that Hannah was not yet dead and asked him who was saying these terrible things. Alfie then says that he saw Hannah being taken by the Man without a face.

If we say that he probably saw a man in a mask, Cleo replies that there is a legend in Duskwood about a "Man without a face" and that we should ask Jessy about it because she likes legends, and then in the meantime Cleo would talk to Mrs. Sully.

70 - We asked Jessy about the legend of the mwaf, and also commented that Alfie had seen Hannah being taken by him to the forest.

71 - We found out that Jessy was once Alfie's Nanny. And she says that he may well have invented it, since he has mental problems.

72 - Jessy creates a group about the Duskwood legends and puts Richy together, since he was born in Duskwood and could talk more about the legend than she did. But since Richy was working, they had to leave that for later.

73 - Cleo sends us a message saying she talked to Mrs. Sully, who says she saw Hannah coming out of the pharmacy and that she looked very worried, and then she sat on the patio of the Rainbow Café.

74 - We asked Cleo what Hannah had bought at the pharmacy, but she doesn't know. So she says that she will try to do something and that in the meantime we should try to find out more about the "mwaf".

75 - We talked to Richy and Jessy about Alfie and the mwaf.

76 - Jessy tells the legend of the mwaf. She says the legend is older than Duskwood, they say he lives inside the forest and at night he walks through the dark streets of the city. He marks the door of the greatest sins with a sign from the crow, and then on the night of the first new moon each year, he returns the marked houses and takes all the people from that house, whether guilty or not. No one knows exactly what he does with these people, but supposedly he takes them into the forest and these people never come back.

77 - We can then assume that the kidnapper is trying to copy the legend.

78 - Cleo sends us a message again, telling us a story that Lilly told her about Alfie.

79 - Cleo said it happened last year, in the fall. One of the guests complained to Lilly about a bad smell in his room, Lilly went to the room, but felt nothing, so she gave the guest another room. When she returned to the room she noticed the smell, but could not find where it came from, she then spoke to Mrs. Walter who spoke with the janitor Old Gray. After he cleaned it, Lilly, as she was curious to know what had given off that stench, goes to the trash and saw that Alfie's canary (Mr. Featherly) was dead and with a crushed beak and broken wings.

80 - Apparently Alfie killed the canary.

81 - We then see a conversation between Dan and Lilly. He was commenting that he was sure that the body found was not Hannah's. Lilly then asks Dan if he could come here (probably to her house), and Dan agrees.

Well, I think I better stop here, because I already wrote a lot and there is still a lot to write. To tell you the truth, I don't even know where I am in the story, I don't know if it's still chapter 1, or it's already 2 or maybe 3. But anyway, that's it. I will continue to write my observations / thoughts / summaries of the story when I have time and motivation. At the moment I want to see if I can draw something with Jake x MC and maybe write some theories that are in my head.

I hope that what I have written can help you in some way, or just remember what was going on at the beginning of the game. (Or maybe all of this is useless and it was really boring, so I'm sorry ;_;) See you later :)

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barbasbodaciousbeard · 3 years

Text

If You Love Someone, Let Them Go: Part 6

Summary: Since starting with SVU, Sonny hadn’t kept much terribly close to the chest. The squad knew about his family, growing up on Staten Island, the classes at Fordam. What was hidden was why he didn’t date. Sonny Carisi was also separated from his childhood sweetheart, a separation neither ever took to divorce. They had the same haunts. They’d grown up neighbors. Their paths crossed every few months, and divorce talks would turn into reminiscing would turn into a night spent together, sometimes sex sometimes just talking until the early morning. It always ended with one of them waking up alone however. How will that change when the squad finds out?

Pairings: Sonny Carisi x Original Character

1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5

April 2015

“You ready?” Sonny called as he came into her apartment. They’d agreed to skip the pretense and drive together, and Sonny had booked a hotel room within walking distance after confirming she’d be okay with it. His bag was in the trunk, and he grinned when she came out bundled up, the same Fordham sweatshirt she’d stolen under her coat and the little wheeled bag beside her.

“Ready,” she grinned, stretching up to kiss him, and he felt like he could do anything. He took her bag despite her protest.

“I got us a room for the next two nights. We ain’t gotta stay both, but I thought it might be nice to go to dinner? I got both nights off, too.”

“That sounds real nice. I packed some real people clothes anyway.”

“Perfect. Now let’s get going. Bella said you guys got a make up artist coming.”

“Yeah. She got one and a hairdresser.”

“She’s definitely the one who wouldn’t wanna get herself ready.”

“Yeah. We gotta get there in time. What’re the groomsmen doing?”

“Playing video games and taking turns shaving and showering.”

“Not fair.”

“You look hot. You don’t need hair and make up.”

“You always think I’m hot.”

“That’s because you always are.”

“So are you. I got real lucky on the husband front.”

“You really think so?” She could sense the current under what he said. It wasn’t just Am I hot? but was also Are you lucky?

“Incredibly lucky. I got you.” He slammed the trunk shut, cheeks pink when he settled in the driver’s seat. It was familiar to drive with their fingers laced, and he smiled to see her wedding set in place. Bella had gone by the bakery to surprise her one day, and his sister was very pleased to let him know both rings were on her left ring finger. He’d told the squad the same day he told Olivia, and his ring had been on his hand every day since, the cross the only thing on the chain again.

“Think they’d notice if I do my own make up and hang out with you?”

“She really does have y’all going like two hours longer than Gina did.”

“Yeah. Gina was very ‘Let’s get down to business, get photos, and get married.’ Bella’s way more into the matching robes and face masks vibe. But she’ll be happy.”

“I’ll check in a lot, okay? I don’t like the video games Tommy does.”

“You just like Sims. It’s endearing.”

“It’s kinda fun.”

“You spent six hours building a house once.”

“I had t’make sure it was perfect. They were having twins, Tor.”

“I love you, you absolute nerd.”

“Your nerd.”

“Damn straight.” Sonny dropped her off at the venue, checking them in at the hotel and dropping off their bags. He stopped by the bridal suite when he got to the venue, thankful the weather moved the ceremony inside now that he was out of the cold.

“Dominick! No boys allowed,” Bella said, wagging her finger at him, hair in rollers.

“I know, I know. I’m just bringing Tor the key and her charger, okay?”

“You got her key?” Gina asked, leaning back to look at him and lifting her brow. “That sounds like you’re sharing a room.”

“We are,” Victoria said plainly, taking both items gladly. All the girls had changed into robes, but she’d opted to stay in his oversized sweatshirt until the inevitable photos. A primal part of him liked knowing that.

“That sounds like a reconciliation,” the younger Carisi sang, and Victoria rolled her eyes. “And you two snuck out of the party early like you used to.”

“I’m real glad you approve of our progress, but if you put too much pressure on us, we might break again.” Victoria knew he didn’t mean it and just wanted them to drop it, which she was grateful for. They weren’t quite there, but she trusted he’d probably open up by the end of their weekend together. Even if he didn’t, she’d decided she wanted to start planning to see him more after the wedding. Several late nights with Margy and a bottle of wine had told her that much. If you prove you’ll be there and patient, he’ll probably feel less like he’s scaring you off, she’d told Victoria after another night analyzing their last four encounters.

“Fine. But just know I’m telling ma. Maybe she’ll stop being mean to Tor.”

“Ignore Bella. She’s been glaring, but I think Sonny talked sense into her at Thanksgiving. She’s mad at both of them now.”

“As she should be,” he shrugged, kissing Victoria. “See ya for pictures.”

“See ya,” she grinned, ignoring his sisters’ squeals. This marathon made her kind of tired. Her hair and makeup were done soon enough, and she was grateful the dress was a dusty, dark enough pink in person to look good on her. She liked pink on Sonny, especially since the sides of his brunette hair had started going gray, against the blue of his eyes. The bridesmaids, the two Carisi sisters, Victoria, and a couple of Bella’s friends, all posed together in the matching silky robes before slipping their dresses on.

“And you thought that pink wouldn’t look good,” Sonny said softly against her ear before kissing her cheek.

“You like it?” Her hands rested on his shoulders as she smiled up at him, and he felt giddy. It was official. This was how they acted before, no almost needed.

“I do. Beautiful color on you. And damn, my wife got a figure.”

“You’re the best hypeman,” she hummed as she straightened his tie. “I ever told you how handsome you look in a suit? Or how pretty pink makes your eyes?”

“I can stand to hear it again.” There was the cocky smile he got sometimes. “I’m starting to look old, doll.”

“Nah. Getting hotter.”

“Even with the gray?” He’d been self conscious about it before, when the evenly dispersed gray in his dark hair could be mistaken for a dirty blonde. His temples gave him away now, but she loved it.

“Even hotter with the gray.”

“Stop being gross,” Teresa whined. “It’s like when you were getting ready for homecoming again.” She was rewarded with her brother and sister-in-law’s middle fingers, and Victoria was pleased with Gianna’s disapproval and the picture the photographer snapped. They took pictures, and Sonny was glad when they settled in the back of the venue. He could see the back of Olivia, Barba, Amaro, and Rollins’ heads, and the change in his dynamic with Victoria had him looking forward to showing her off at the reception.

“Shoes off at the reception. I intercept ma?”

“How’d you know?”

“I’m pretty sure I’m supporting ninety percent of your weight, Tor.”

“Love you.”

“Do I need to hold ya until we walk?”

“Not enough time to make a difference. But you’re a saint for offering.”

When Olivia saw Sonny with Victoria on his arm, it made sense why he’d been calmer the last two weeks. He’d been texting her more, though he thought he was sneaky enough no one noticed how he smiled at his phone throughout the day. She seemed to smooth his edges, and she and Amanda shared a look over the way the pair watched each other across the front of the venue. The ceremony was a quick enough affair, and Bella had decided to let her bridal party sit wherever they wanted. That led to Victoria stepping out of her shoes, pleased to be spared a big entrance. Heels in hand, she followed Sonny to the table his squad was at before dropping into her seat and giving a wave.

“Means a lot to Bella and Tommy you all came,” Sonny said, taking her shoes and tucking the wall by his chair. “This is my wife, Victoria. Tor, meet Rafael Barba, Olivia Benson, Nick Amaro, and Amanda Rollins.”

“Nice to meet all of ya. I’ve heard a lot.”

“Wish we could say the same,” Rollins said, and Victoria immediately recognized what Sonny had meant. No venom. Just protective of her occasional partner. And Benson was definitely the mother hen, shooting the blonde a look as Amaro and Barba concealed smiles.

“Get it all out now,” she joked, rolling her eyes. “Married into this family nine years ago.”

“Been putting up with Carisi that long? I’ll petition the pope for sainthood.” The three piece suit. The snark. Barba was just what she expected.

“Think she deserves it,” Sonny chuckled, arm flung easily over the back of her chair. “I can be a pain in the ass.”

Conversation started to flow easily, and he was glad Victoria was tough enough to bite back at Rollins and Barba when they referenced anything touchy. Tommy’s family filled out the rest of the table, and he was glad to see the trial had brought them around to agree that what happened to Tommy was wrong. Teresa and Tommy’s brother gave the speeches, and he liked seeing the squad join in as Bella threw the bouquet and Tommy threw the garter.

“Bella caught my bouquet, remember?” Victoria smiled up at him.

“Yeah. And Freddy Esposito got the garter.”

“Both of ‘em got married this year.”

“Was delayed for us. Our friends from back then are just now getting married.”

“We’ve been married nine years and aren't even thirty. I think we were ahead of the curve.”

“But now my baby sister is married and pregnant.”

“Dom, you do know she and I are the same age?” Sonny blinked, squinting at her.

“You’re fucking with me, right?”

“We’re both twenty-seven.”

“No way Bella’s twenty-seven.”

“I like how you can fully separate me and Bella graduating together.”

“I forget,” he shrugged. “You always picked me anyway.”

“Then married you. Duh. Long game.”

“I hear people making noise.”

“They’re cutting the cake. Amaro has the garter half in his shirt pocket, and a three year old caught the bouquet. The same age you think Bella was when she caught mine.”

“Shut up,” he laughed, pulling her to stand at the edge of the dance floor to watch the first dance. His arms slid around her waist as he rested his chin on her shoulder.

“He wouldn’t have to stoop so low if you’d wear your damn shoes, stellina.”

“Ma, leave her be.” Gianna rolled her eyes, but Sonny squeezed Victoria as the music started. “She’s coming back around. Called ya stellina instead of Victoria.”

It was kind of fun to watch the four members of his work family loosen up around the room. Amaro and Rollins were across the dance floor and not fooling anyone. Barba wasn’t sure what to make of any of the Carisis or Sullivans, but since they’d easily figured out that Olivia was not involved with him, the singles from both families had circled the man who was suddenly the most eligible bachelor. The best part was how hard Olivia ignored his visual pleas to be saved as she talked to one of Tommy’s uncles. It was nice not pretending work and personal life were separate; the squad had taken him in like he hadn’t anticipated, and now his family was taking the chance to accept his squad.

When the first dance was over, Sonny pulled her onto the dance floor, holding her flush against him in a way he hadn’t been brave enough to before. They’d talked every day the last two weeks, and he’d realized they really had hit the turning point. The songs weren’t slow, so his chest was against her back as his hand splayed over her stomach as they swayed. Both their voices were off key as they sang along to each song with the rest of the guests on the floor. Nick and Amanda were wrapped up in each other, and Olivia and Rafael seemed perfectly entertained, so he didn’t feel bad slipping out after a couple hours.

“I know you two. Go ahead and dip. You stayed for all the important parts,” Bella had grinned, bumping Victoria’s hip with her own. “I’m the only sober one here, so this is gonna wrap up earlier than anyone realizes. Baby and I gotta sleep.”

“You sure?”

“Positive, Tor.” That was all it took for Sonny to lace their fingers, duck out of the venue, and start the couple of blocks to their hotel. At first, she wore the heels and walked, but he quickly realized it was the shoes, not the wine, making her unsteady.

“That’s it,” he said, squatting in his suit. “Hop on.”

“My bag’s heavy.”

“I can handle it, babe.”

“You sure?”

“You don’t hop on, we’re going spider monkey front carry, and we both know that always ends in me tripping more.” She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and Sonny held her thighs, careful to keep the fabric under his palms to save her some modesty. When they were outside the room, she slipped the key from his breast pocket, helping him push the door open before he dropped her on the bed.

“Thank you,” she sighed, toeing the pumps off and letting them fall.

“Glad to be of service.” A little salute as he started to strip out of the suit and hang it. “Thanks for always ditching early for pajamas with me.”

“Glad to be of service.” She hung the dress and tucked the strapless bra away, and when Sonny turned from the closet, he saw her in the oversized sweatshirt again as she pulled the blankets back on the bed. He hadn’t bothered for two. They’d had that option every time but hadn’t used it when they were fighting.

“Comfy?” He ran a hand through his hair, breaking up the gel before flopping beside her.

“Very.”

“It’s literally nine o’clock. Are we old, Tor?”

“Old? No. Codependent? Maybe.”

“We been living apart a year and a half. Maybe we’re just a clique.”

“Very true. We’re like if the plastics were millennials who had been married a decade.”

“We should write that script.”

“Forget law school. Teen movie parodies based around our marriage.”

“Perfect. I’ll drop all my classes tomorrow.”

“I missed you. It’s been nice talking all the time.”

“I missed you too,” he murmured, watching her with his cheek pressed to the pillow.

“Regardless of if you’re ready to tell me, I wanna keep talking a lot.”

“I’m ready. I just was going to wait. Don’t wanna ruin our weekend.”

“I feel like you’re going to tell me and realize I don’t care as much as you thought. Unless you fucked somebody.”

“First, last, and only, Tor.” He rolled onto his back, taking a deep breath, and Victoria knew him well enough to know this really was going to be the moment. She sat up, legs tucked beneath her. Leaning towards him a little, she put her hand on his chest and rubbed what she hoped were soothing circles as he put his hands behind his head. When he was nervous, Sonny talked to the ceiling, just needing her to anchor him.

“Just trust me, okay?”

“I trust you, vita mia,” he murmured, and that particular Italian term of endearment let her know it was really happening. “You remember when my hours changed? End of 2011. Became a detective. Acted funny when you took me upstate. A year before I fucked up and forgot your birthday bakery combo dinner.”

“Of course.”

“I was working homicide.”

“Okay?”

“It really fucked me up, Tor. What I seen, it was so bad. The women. There were so many women, and they’d be so pristine. One of them was in a fuckin’ dumpster even. But he took all the time to give her a bath and do her make up and get her dressed. And you know what that always told me?”

“What?” she whispered, taking the hand that went from behind his head to rest on top of hers.

“It was their husband or boyfriend. The person who they trusted. And their faces were so peaceful, Victoria. They knew what was coming. And I’d go talk to people. You know what they’d say? They weren’t surprised. They’d seen it. They’d heard it. Those men hurt their wives and girlfriends. Took advantage of the fact they trusted and loved them. I started seeing you when I saw them, Tor.”

“Sonny,” she whispered, hating the way his voice sounded. It was thick with emotion, and he’d closed his eyes. She was well aware that if he opened them, they’d be rimmed red and tears would be falling. “This is what you couldn’t tell me?”

“You’re so proud of me. I didn’t want to disappoint you. I couldn’t sleep and it hurt so badly. I’d wake up freaking because I thought it was you. I’d never hurt you, but my brain just- I don’t know. And then you’re so good. You deal with cakes and fondant and cannoli and things that make people happy. I was so scared that if I talked about it, it would blot out the light in you. I felt like the only light I had was you. I think I pulled away because of that and it snowballed. When it got so bad, the last six months? It got to the point I thought all that darkness and the stuff I was seeing and the stuff my brain was picturing would- fuck- leak into you through osmosis or something. When I wanted to tell you, my brain would just change the words I wanted to say.”

“Sonny, I didn’t know it was like that,” she murmured.

“You couldn’t have known. I wouldn’t tell you.”

“I should have figured it out.”

“Don’t do that, doll. If you’re willing to trust me to tell you moving forward, I just want to move forward.”

“I shouldn’t have left, Dominick. You were hurting, and I just abandoned you.”

“I was depressed. I should have told you or talked to someone. Being depressed doesn’t make it okay to neglect you. I need to take care of myself.”

“And I should have stuck with you. Figured out the why.”

“You did though. I’ve known that I can come to you for the last two years. I just couldn’t get past myself. Doc’s been working through it with me. Says I gotta learn that dad bottling it up wasn’t good. It works better for him and ma because she couldn’t read him when they met. I never had to tell you so I didn’t know how. And then dad doesn’t believe in men sharing their feelings. It’s easy to ignore that for the good feelings. I didn’t want you to think I wasn’t tough enough.”

“I didn’t know how to tell you how I was feeling. I knew you saw dark stuff and I was scared to make it worse. I didn’t want to pressure you.”

“Are we okay?” His voice was almost pleading, barely a whisper as his eyes finally opened to look at her. She laid against him, cupping his cheek as his hand flew to rest on hers. They were both crying, and she hated it. She hated to know that it was such a stupid miscommunication. If she’d pressed on it, taken guesses, asked around, maybe she could’ve helped him not hurt. This new squad seemed good for him, and therapy was helping. She probably needed to address their relationship more in therapy, learn how to ask for what she needed. They had to an extent, helping her hold out as long as she had for him to open up.

“We’re okay, Sonny. I’m so proud of you.” She was nudging his nose with her own, not dropping his gaze.

“Thank you for being so patient.”

“I’d have waited for ya forever. First, last, and only, Sonny.”

“Come home.”

“We gotta consolidate now,” she teased gently. “But I’ll come home.”

“It’s in Brooklyn now. You’ll like it. I didn’t even get rid of that stupid dog statue.”

“He’s a very important dog statue.”

“I love you, you weirdo.”

“I love you too, nerd.” He missed laughing with her, even when they were both crying. The relief that flooded him was suddenly exhausting. Not telling her had been heavy on him for a long time, but he didn’t expect his body’s physical response to the openness. He felt like he did before he went on this pointless journey to hide the bad parts of his field from her. She knew what he did. She kissed him, slow and sweet and loving, and Sonny’s arms snaked around her. They’d kissed plenty since she left, but there was always a hesitance behind it. Unsureness around their status. Now, he was kissing his wife, not his estranged wife. Even if it took time, they were working towards her coming back home. They hadn’t had sex since their ill fated first run in post separation. It was slow and sentimental, and afterwards, he had a half second of panic she’d disappear. Instead of pulling away like his gut wanted, he curled around her frame, nuzzled into the crook of his neck.

“I missed that,” he murmured.

“Me too.” She rested her hand on his, and he could feel that she was smiling in how her cheeks moved. He felt greedy, wanting to feel every bit of her skin he was able to before he fell asleep. When he woke to find her still there, he was relieved, and even better, she’d twisted in the night, leg hooked over his hip and her chest pressed to his. They’d spent most of the night talking or tangled together, so they’d slept in until ten o’clock. He checked his phone to be sure everyone had made it through the night before. Once he reminded his mom he was spending the weekend and really wouldn’t be at Sunday dinner, he settled back in to watching her. After a while, she started to stir, pulling him closer. She’d been right, everything had changed once he told her. He didn’t feel like he had to keep any space between them.

“Morning, beautiful,” he whispered, and she stretched her arms over her head.

“Heya, handsome.” She pressed a kiss to his lips, and it took all his attention not to take her again. He’d made plans for the day, and he was determined to stick to them. Even if they hadn't reconciled, she was a sucker for the beach, even when it was cold, so he’d planned to take her to lunch, take her to get her nails done, and take her to walk the little shops he’d found. It would make her smile, and he’d missed the little trips they’d taken before. Other than going to the cabin, something she’d planned, it had been years between work and school and money. For their tenth anniversary, he was already planning, even though there was just over a year to plan. He wanted to take her back to New Orleans, just the pair of them together now and no disappointment on her part that her mom was there but ignoring her.

“I planned a day for us.” His hands trailed her spine, and he realized something else had shifted since he told her the reality. While he thought it wasn’t possible, he felt even closer to her. The men in his family, though well intentioned, had always told him it would be viewed as weaker to share his emotional world with anyone. They thought it was a little girly for him to be as sappy with her as he tended to be, tearing up at weddings and when he talked about how proud of her he was. But the bad things? Those were weaknesses that would drive her away. The realization that the depression and inability to separate work from her didn’t scare her off made him realize that letting her see it wasn’t going to break them. Hell, it seemed to bring her closer.

“Really?”

“Yeah. Lunch on the beach. Little walk on the beach after. Manicure- I know you, Tor. Don’t try to say you got one for Bella’s weddin. You love them but won’t take yourself ever- and then we can walk around some of the little shops and stuff.”

“That sounds like a real romantic day, Dom.”

“What can I say? I learned my lesson about not being romantic.”

“I’m excited to come home.”

“Me too, Tor.”

Tag: @cycat4077 @fear-less-write-more

#law and order special victims unit #sonny carisi #sonny carisi x oc #sonny carisi x reader #svu #writing

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stereksecretsanta · 3 years

Text

Merry Christmas, flynnifox!

For @flynnifox <3

Read On AO3

*****

Have a Cup of Christmas Cheer

Stiles had stopped counting all the times he had heard 'All I want for Christmas' today. It seemed like all the shops and all the streets and even the freaking Sheriff's station when he had gone to say hello to his dad at lunch time, all had the same freaking playlist going on loop and in all honesty Stiles was quite fed up with it. All of it.

He sighed, irritated and annoyed at the sound of some overused Christmas song and just kept standing in line in Reyes' Coffee Shop with a blank expression on his face.

He was dead on the inside. He hoped coming here was going to turn his day around. The barista, Erica, was one of his best friends in high school. It had been a few years, college and all that, but he still considered her a friend even if these days they only saw each other in the professional setting of her coffee shop, him being the client, and her serving him in daily doses of caffeine. She was wonderful enough to usually be able to brighten his day, even the worst of the worst when his boss at work had been a total pain in ass like he had been today.

There was just something about this time of year, Stiles wasn’t really sure Erica was going to have enough Wonder Woman power to make his life not seem bland and unappealing under the plastic mistletoe they had hung up just above the cash register.

She spotted him after a while and smiled one of her bright smiles. Her long curls of blond hair stuck out from under her Santa hat. Yeah because if the songs weren't enough to create the goddamn Christmas atmosphere they also had to add visuals to really be festive. She didn't seem to mind.

Stiles would really like to throw up.

Jackson freaking Whittemore, his actual real life nemesis from high school now turned into the CEO of the number one rival company from Stiles' job, bumped into him on his way out of the coffee shop.

Karma was a bitch like that.

Jackson snorted, “Seriously, Stilinski. I don't care what you do with your miserable life but could you cheer up a little ? You're killing the elves with your Grinch vibes.”

“You're killing the elves with your face.“ Stiles retorted.

It was not his best come back but he was a little out of it these days. He fidgeted and bit his lip out of annoyance.

“Wouldn't be surprised if you made the naughty list this year.” Jackson gave him a deprecating shrug.

Stiles was one hair away from just punching the smirk off his stupidly symmetrical face. He couldn’t do that though, not in Erica’s coffee shop. She didn’t deserve that, and he wasn’t rich enough to pay for any broken furniture, so instead he just said, “Fuck off.”

Jackson rolled his eyes and started whistling along 'Jingle Bells' on his way out.

Could Stiles’ day get any worse ?

It was not that Stiles hated Christmas. He didn't. He sort of liked it, accepted it at least. He didn't have much of a choice in the matter. Christmas was everywhere.

He could have gone on into details about how Christmas could never be what it used to be when he was little but there was no real use. He missed his mom, sure, but he missed more than that during this time of year. He missed... something he never really had. He missed not feeling so lonely.

He had his dad. He had Scott. Only, it wasn’t the same. Scott was married now, (wow way to make Stiles feel like an old bachelor at twenty five) so there wasn’t any Bro-Christmas anymore. And going to Scott’s house for Christmas was worse than being alone. Seeing the happy couple, the happy baby, the happy everything. Stiles could already feel the anxiety building up in his gut.

He was a great Uncle Stiles, but he didn’t have it in him right now. Not when he wanted it to be him. He had been ready for that, had been wanting that for even longer than Scott had. Stiles had been ready to find the love of his life when he was sixteen when Scott was still going from girlfriend to girlfriend until he finally found the one. Stiles… Well, things didn’t seem to be moving along as easily.

He couldn’t even blame it on his career because he was not that career oriented. He was still just in some stupid entry-level job at his office.

He didn’t care.

What Stiles wanted was to the happy husband with the happy baby in the happy household. Having enough money to make do was enough for him, he didn’t wish to live in a castle or drive a Porsche like his nemesis Whittemore. He wanted to stroll through the decorated streets with the intent of buying presents for people he loved, he wanted to dress up as Santa and eat some cookies and milk at midnight, he wanted the disastrous burned ham and the scrubbing of the ruined dishes before joining the love of his life in bed on Christmas night. He wanted the whole thing.

It was hard to settle for less.

He finally got to the counter and ordered his coffee. Black. No sugar.

“As dark as your soul,” Erica grinned as she wrote his name on a to-go cup.

Stiles grimaced what he hoped looked like a smile, which earned him a small laugh from Erica. She looked like a real Christmas angel when she laughed. Maybe he had been right to come here to cheer himself up a little after all.

His fake smile turned into a real one when Boyd, Erica's boyfriend, came out through the kitchen door. Strong tall dude with a red apron around his waist and sporting a Christmas hat : the perfect figure of manliness.

“Looking good, dude,” Stiles nodded in his direction.

“I know,” Boyd answered as confident as ever. Erica winked. Stiles’ tiny frozen heart melted.

Erica quickly shooed him away. The line had to keep moving. He would have liked to stay just a little longer but it was part of the business side of things to keep things going.

Now all he had left was to go back to his tiny lonely apartment and wait for the next few days to be over.

Stiles went to stand a little way off to the side to wait for his drink. He looked to the side, silently sending a prayer for Boyd to take his time preparing the drinks. He watched the bright garlands, let his eyes wander and follow their paths arching over the doors and on the walls. The red ornaments had been hung there with sticky tape, it wasn’t delicate by any means but it did the job.

He couldn’t keep the deep sigh from escaping him. His love-hate relationship with Christmas was still going strong.

His eyes then landed on a guy just a few feet away. Stiles hadn't noticed him before. Then again he hadn't noticed much of anything except Jackson being his usual douche-bag self.

Now Stiles was actually looking. The guy seemed to be waiting for his drink too, fidgeting a little as he put his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. He must have been in the line just in front of him. It really spoke volumes about his current state that Stiles hadn’t noticed a guy that hot. He usually noticed these things. Not that it usually amounted to anything because Stiles really wasn’t a one night stand kind of guy. Stiles was a romantic and most importantly what he craved was intimacy and comfort. He didn’t really care about dick.

Oh but that jawline was definitely cut by the angels. Falalalaa blessed be the lord.

Even with dick out of the question, Stiles’ eyes could only rejoice in the pleasing aesthetics this guy brought to the world.

“Derek ?” Boyd called out, putting a cup down on the counter, before quickly turning to prepare other drinks.

The guy, Stiles’ guy, stepped forward. Okay, Derek. Derek. Stiles almost tasted the name on his tongue. Yeah, he had to agree, Derek seemed to fit that hot guy perfectly.

He didn’t have the time to analyze anything more than that before Boyd came to put another cup on the counter and called, “Stiles !”

Stiles jumped a little at his name. That was fast. He quickly made his way back, ready to talk to Boyd for a couple of more minutes before it was actually absolutely mandatory for him to either leave or find a place to sit. He planned on leaving, he didn’t want to sit all alone in the busy coffee shop. He wasn’t a hipster trying to find a vibe, he just wanted a couple more minutes to hear Boyd tell him one of the stupid things Isaac, their employee, got up to or something. Anything.

Okay so Stiles was a little desperate. Just a little.

“Excuse me,” a voice said behind him.

Stiles turned around so fast, he almost heard his neck creak. Derek, the hottest guy Stiles had seen in a long time, was standing there, frowning down at his cup.

Why was he still standing there ? That was definitely not proper coffee shop etiquette. Someone should tell him because no matter how hot a guy was, he was supposed to be moving along when the drink was retrieved. That was how a coffee shop worked. Stiles was supposed to be the only one allowed to loiter, that was his friend privilege.

The guy frowned again, and it seemed directed at Stiles this time. He leaned in a little closer. Stiles swallowed audibly. Now was not the time to get flustered but it had been a while since anyone had come close into his personal space. What was this man doing all of a sudden?

“Excuse me,” Hot Guy Derek said again. “I think you have my drink.”

What ?

It was Stiles’ turn to frown now. (The frowning contest is on, mister!) He awkwardly scratched the back of his neck with his free hand, “What?”

Stiles barely had the time to take his cup but he definitely had time to notice Erica's cursive handwriting unmistakably spelling out his name in black sharpie. It was not every name that could be mistaken for ‘Stiles’. What was this dude on about ?

He threw a quick glance in Boyd’s direction only to find him gone. The bro code really wasn’t what it used to be.

“Stiles,” Hot Derek said.

Stiles' brain short-circuited a minute, only able to gape and stare at the wonderful scruff on that man's face. Stiles would very much enjoy hearing his name coming out of that mouth somewhere more private. Somewhere in between some sheets maybe, under a duvet, safe and warm on a Sunday morning.

“Stiles,” He said again.

Stiles shook his head and blinked a little to meet Derek's eyes. Oh wow. Those eyes. Yeah Stiles’ brain wasn’t back online yet. Later he would be able to express in a lot more words how beautiful these green eyes looked under the cozy coffee shop lighting.

Were the twinkles in there only the reflection of the Christmas lights?

The whole street was covered with the red and green lights. Their glow was flickering through the large wall of windows.

The town was floating in the Christmas spirit and if Stiles had to put a face on a feeling, he might want to choose this face right here.

Here was a reason to accept Christmas a little more.

Wait. Hot Derek's eyebrows twitched. They were clearly trying to tell him something. Stiles followed his line of sight down to the cup he was holding. Derek's cup... which also had a name written in that same handwriting in black sharpie, except that instead of Derek's name, it was Stiles' name written there.

It was all there from the capital S to the lower case s, as if it had been copy-pasted from his own cup, except that on this one the i of his name has been dotted with a heart instead.

“Huh ?” Stiles said intelligibly.

“You have my drink.”

“Huh.”

Derek probably thought Stiles was a moron. Maybe it was not too late to act like a foreign exchange student or a tourist. Excusez-moi no hablo English? No, even better, Stiles was almost ready to unearth his fake polish accent even if he hadn’t spoken a word of that language since the last time he went to visit his Babcia with his mom and dad when he was eight.

“You ordered a black coffee.” Derek said simply. To prove his point, he slowly uncapped his cup to show the wonderfully black liquid inside. Dark roast, Stiles’ favorite. “You want me to guess what’s in your cup or is that enough proof?”

“Listen dude!” Stiles started a little too loud.

Stupidly, Stiles was ready to start a fight. He was fed up with everything today : work, stupid Jackson, stupid Christmas, stupid coffee shop messing up orders for no reason. He didn’t need an attractive guy getting in his face now because of some coffee ordeal. He just wanted to go home and wallow in his misery. It was a thing people did ; going home just to be free to be miserable without having the world there to look at them. In this case, Stiles was people.

Stiles just really wanted to be left alone.... or to be hugged or something.

So yes, he had spoken a little too loud, making some heads turn to look at them. He didn’t really want to cause a scene. It was a reflex more than anything. It was such a reflex that he hadn’t come up with the rest of the sentence.

He cleared his throat to find some composure. “I’m sure this is just a mistake.”

Way to state what seemed obvious.

Though… Now that he thought about it, Stiles knew this wasn't a mistake. He quickly glared in Erica’s direction. She was way too careful with her business to make a mistake like that. Plus the little heart on the i was definitely giving her away. She never put hearts on his cup.

His eyes met Boyd’s for a second and the playful glint in his eyes was enough to confirm Stiles’ doubts. Fuckers. Both of them.

Stiles just hadn’t been miserable enough that they had to come and mess with him on this goddawful day.

“Oh god, I hate them. I’m so sorry.” Stiles let his head fall. “They think they’re hilarious. It’s just, yeah, they’re sort of my friends, though clearly they shouldn’t ever have earned that title. I should only have nice friends. I should only have all the nice things. I don’t deserve this? All of today. I don’t deserve that. And they know I don’t like Christmas time! They’re just… ugh.”

He hit his forehead with his fist, wishing so badly he could just transport himself some place else. Stiles hated everything right now. Erica and Boyd had had to go find the hottest guy in town and pull a prank? And they called themselves friends? What a travesty.

“Why would it be funny?” Derek’s eyes weren’t leaving Stiles a second.

It was almost uncomfortable. Hot guys rarely paid attention to him so Stiles lacked the proper defense mechanisms to help him cope with what was happening right now. Without thinking he brought what he believed to be his cup to his lips and gulped down a disgustingly sweet mouthful of what he guessed to be a white chocolate drink. The sugary feeling stuck all the way down his throat. It was so bad, he choked.

Heads turn in their direction again because Stiles was nothing but a discreet guy. God, could he please just disappear instead of making a fool out of himself?

Derek’s hand was on his arm, holding him upright, brushing down to his elbow almost like a caress. Stiles was definitely imagining the look of concern on the other man’s face. There was no way this was happening right now.

“Here!” Stiles all but shoved the burning hot cup of white chocolate in Derek’s chest. “That’s definitely yours.”

Derek let go of his arm, his fingers brushing against Stiles’ as he moved to catch the cup Stiles was handing to him.

Every touch felt like burning, Stiles was that touch-starved. Sure he shook hands with his colleagues at work but that was not the same. Shaking hands with people he barely tolerated definitely didn’t bring out any Jane Austen type of vibes in his heart. Here though, he could very well be named Elizabeth Bennett, he wouldn’t be the wiser.

Derek almost smiled, just a tiny smug curl on the corner of his lips. Stiles’ eyes widened as he realized that he basically had drunk in this stranger’s cup just before giving it back. That was definitely not proper coffee shop etiquette. Germs and all that.

Stiles was a disgusting twenty-something spreading his disgusting saliva all over the place, and by all over the place Stiles meant this thirty-something God of beauty.

There was just a tiny hint of grey, salt and pepper in the scruff. So incredibly endearing for some reason. He never really knew he had a type until today but he might just have had his revelation moment. Or maybe someone like Derek was just so beautiful that he would be anyone’s type. What are the chances that a guy like that would be gay or bi or pan or any of the sexualities that would give Stiles the slightest most tiniest chance? Zero, null, void of any chance that was what it was. Either that or he was married or a Jackson Whittemore type of douche bag.

Though he didn’t feel like a douche bag.

He felt sort of soft. He felt like someone who would accept to be the big spoon.

Stiles was about to reach for the cup again but was stopped short by Derek who pointedly stared at him straight in the eyes as he slowly brought the white chocolate to his mouth, took a sip and let out a small moan of satisfaction before licking his lips. Slowly, oh so slowly.

What the hell was going on here? Stiles frowned at him, mouth half open. It felt like the whole universe was out to get him. This shouldn’t be as sexy as it was.

Hot Derek looked up at him, smirking. He knew what he was doing. He knew.. He knew he was hella attractive, he knew how to use it. This was terrible. So so terrible. If germs had to be exchanged, why not a full on make-out in the back alley under the twinkling lights? Stiles could be down for that.

But all of this was just a joke, a prank. This wasn’t just a random guy meeting him a random way. This was a prank pulled by people he hadn’t seen outside of this coffee shop for years. He called them his friends but, really, maybe they were just acquaintances. He didn’t even know what Erica and Boyd got up to outside of the small walls of this coffee shop. For all he knew, Derek could be one of their friends, in on the joke, here to make Stiles miserable, really turn him into a Grinch for real.

“Can I get you a, uh, drink?” Derek asked. Stiles hadn’t expected that to be what came out of Derek’s mouth.

“I already have a drink,” Stiles narrowed his eyes and pointed at the hearted-Stiles cup.

“Right. Of course. There you go,” Derek handed him the cup.

Stiles took it, pulled it closer to his chest as, cradling it as if to bring comfort to the cup or to himself. He was not really sure. He didn’t seem to know much of anything right now. The only thing he knew was that Derek was not moving. He was not going away. He only stood there, looking at Stiles for some reason.

“Are you here with someone?” Derek asked now, taking another ostentatious sip of that Stiles-germ-filled drink.

What was Stiles supposed to say, did it look like he was here with someone? Would he be standing there with a hot stranger if he had anywhere else to be?

Yeah probably.

That guy was built like a Greek God, chiseled and beautiful. And he also smelled good, Stiles could tell. He didn’t know what brand of cologne it was or maybe it was just the pheromones in the air, but Stiles was swooning just a little bit. Not drooling, definitely not drooling.

The good question was why Stiles wasn’t leaving. He had his drink in hand, the deal was done. The cups had been exchanged. Stiles should go and save himself. He probably enjoyed being ridiculed. That was the masochistic low-self-esteem acting up again.

More importantly, why did the thought of leaving make him feel so weird inside? It felt like a little Christmas elf was in his chest using his heart as a punching bag.

Derek’s face did another of its twitches. Dude, this guy knew how to use his face to communicate like you wouldn’t believe. It was a little terrifying. Stiles got the message loud and clear that he had been silent a lot longer than politely acceptable.

That was a rare occurrence. Stiles was a talker. Everybody complained about it, he talked talked talked. Not always about the things that mattered though. That was one of his problems, wanting to keep face in all circumstances, not wanting to be a burden. That was why he never told Scott about feeling lonely. So he talked, he talked about Star Wars and he talked about the Mets or anything, talked about Lacrosse if he wanted to have the chance to have a two way conversation instead of just a monologue.

“No, I’m singl- alone ! I’m here alone.”

Stiles scrunched up his nose. That sounded bad. So. His anxiety was going to make him think about this for days and he might even wake up in the middle of the night four years from now thinking about how bad this had been. Smooth Stilinski, so smooth.

The soft cling of dishes being deposited on the counter pulled Stiles out of his never ending inner monologue. Derek turned around too,his eyes finally letting go of their hold on Stiles’ soul.

Saved by the bell as one would like to believe, except that when Stiles looked up he found Erica standing there behind the counter with some sort of wolffish grin on her face. It was more terrifying than being faced with an actual predator.

“On the house, boys. Enjoy!” She announced, her tone ringing like wind chimes.

Stiles glared. Her cheerfulness sounded just a little too forced under the circumstances.

He wanted to strangle her. She was only saved by the fact that there was a counter between them and about twenty people there to witness it. All he could do was glare, curse her with his mind, make it very obvious that he was not happy with her right now.

Still, Stiles was about to tell her off when Derek grinned and stepped forward to grab the two small plates of red velvet cheesecake with one hand.

Oh no, now Stiles was thinking about Derek’s hands.

“Thank you,” Derek said softly.

Derek seemed to accept what was happening without any trouble. What was up with that? Stiles still felt like he was living one hallucinatory scene in a movie or maybe one of these hidden camera gags. He was still ready to bolt, to dash out of there and leave them all to never return. This was a betrayal of the highest order. Reyes’ Coffee Shop was supposed to be a safe space. It was supposed to feel like home. Yes a home with stupid Jackson Whittemore as a guest sometimes but a home nonetheless.

“Your friends really are pushing this,” Derek huffed out, sounding amused. “If I had any criticism, I’d say she could have cut the cheesecake in the shape of a heart and given only one piece with two forks. This is really amateur work.”

Stiles couldn’t help but laugh. It came out a little hysterical, a little loud. Again. His nervousness always had the best of him. He was a mess, and now he was obviously blushing. The hot flush moved on his cheeks and ran down his neck. When Derek smiled, Stiles stopped breathing entirely. The smile didn’t feel mocking. Surprisingly.

“Dude, it’s not too late, you can still put that in the suggestion jar!” Stiles said, pointing to a piggy bank next to the cash register.

Derek frowned, “Isn’t that for tips?”

Stiles only shrugged. That would be a sweet revenge. Derek rolled his eyes.

“Let’s go sit.” Derek offered, before looking down and adding, “Unless you don’t want to?”

It came out as a question. Shy. Stiles could laugh again because this amazingly beautiful man in front of him was acting insecure as if Stiles had the upper hand here.

Derek’s ears were turning bright red. The color fit perfectly with the theme of the season. And again Stiles thought about Christmas. It would be such a shame if anyone was ever to reject such a heartwarming Christmas spirit.

Stiles’ heart skipped a beat or two at the sight of Derek who was now looking up at him.

“It’s my birthday today,” Derek confessed.

“It’s your what?” Stiles exclaimed.

“My birthday.”

“Yeah I heard you the first time, but, man, I don’t understand why you would tell me these things?” Stiles was almost getting angry now. “Because if it’s your birthday… it’s even more terrible! First it means you’re a Christmas baby which means you might hate Christmas even more than I do. Or love it wholeheartedly. I don’t know which is worse. But also if it’s your birthday and you’re here by yourself and my friends decided it would be fun to pull this stupid plan to get you to what? Meet me? Because oh my god, that’s some bad karma. I thought my karma was a bitch but dude , yours might be even worse! Imagine karma doing that to someone on their birthday… Jesus fucking Christ.”

When Stiles finally stopped his grand overly dramatic speech, he found Derek only looking at him, soft crinkles on the corners of his eyes.

“Is that it? Are you done?” Derek asked.

“Yes. You gotta admit I’m right though, but yes, I am done.”

“Are you always this stubborn?” Derek shook his head slowly. “The question is only rhetorical.”

Stiles snorted. He crossed his arms in a way he hoped to be manly. It failed as he had to be mindful of his coffee cup (the one Derek had uncapped but hadn’t bothered putting the lid back on earlier because apparently Hot Derek didn’t care about hot liquid hazard).

“Let’s make this easier on both of us.” Derek huffed out. “You’re single. I am too. It’s Christmas Eve, it’s my birthday, and I spent all day working. You’re cute,” he stopped a second to smile at Stiles’ shocked face. “You’re also ridiculous, but in a good way. Your friends are meddlers-”

“The worst kind of meddling meddlers.” Stiles had to agree.

“Who clearly care about you enough to pull something like this. That has to mean you are at least a decent enough person.”

“I’m a great person!” Stiles felt the need to correct. Look at him finding some sense of self worth when needed!

“Well, I’d like to be the judge of that.” Derek smiled. “If you’d let me.”

“What?” Stiles’ brain might be short circuiting again.

“Say yes, Stiles!” Boys shouted from where he was standing in the kitchen doorway.

“Fucking Hell Stiles!” Erica added.

Derek was full on grinning now. The dude thought all of this was wonderful. This whole mess of life Stiles had, it didn’t seem to scare him or push him away.

“Let’s go sit and enjoy some cheesecake.” Derek didn’t wait for Stiles to agree and just led the way to an empty table close to the window.

The lights twinkle again, illuminating the small wooden table as Derek unceremoniously dropped the small plates of cheesecake on the tabletop.

Stiles reached for him before Derek sat down.

“You say that like it’s easy but you say 'cheesecake' and I hear a lot more than that.” Stiles admitted.

He was a little breathless. That mean elf in his chest had taken to squeezing his lungs now, stomping on his heart too.

“If the cheesecake is good, that might mean a date or two.” Derek was acting casual about this.

“Again. You’re doing it again . Because when you say-“

Derek cut him short, leaning in to kiss him, swallowing down soundless words.

“I think you heard me just right.” Derek smiled again. “Tomorrow is Christmas and I’m driving back to my hometown to be with my family. I’m going to assume you’re not up for that yet. My sisters, huh, they’re a lot to handle. But tonight… Tonight, I’m all yours.”

Stiles let out a small surprised breath. His heart was growing so big all at once, all the air was being pushed out. Derek knew what he was doing. Derek fucking knew. There was so much implication in what he was saying and yeah sure Stiles definitely didn’t feel up for an official meeting with the family tomorrow (what the hell?) but who knew? Maybe next year?

“Wait, I just need to-“ Derek said before leaning in once more, raising Stiles’ chin an inch to angle him just right to capture his lips again.

This time Stiles felt more prepared, he didn’t just take it, he kissed back. They were keeping it chaste, it was a first kiss. They were still in the middle of the coffee shop. But Stiles couldn’t help it, he had to taste more. He ran his tongue softly on the underside of Derek’s upper lip. Stiles needed just a little more time and a little less audience to dare slip his tongue inside and -

“Yeah,” Derek breathed out, pulling away. He nodded, seemingly satisfied by the result of what he had 'needed to'.

“You don’t know what you’re signing up for. I’m no piece of cake.” Stiles needed to warn him.

“Can’t wait to find out.” Derek said before turning serious. “If this is the fine prints of some imaginary contract we’re signing, I probably have to disclose that I'm not perfect either.”

“I’m loving your business talk so much.” Stiles snorted.

“You say business but I hear a lot more than that.” Derek’s tone was serious but his face absolutely gave away how proud of himself he was.

“Shut up,” Stiles couldn’t help but smile. His grin was so wide it actually hurt his cheeks.

“Do you actually want to eat that cheesecake or should we get out of here?” Derek asked, his wonderfully endearing blush back in full force.

‘All I Want For Christmas’ was coming back on the radio and Stiles could actually laugh now. He still couldn't believe any of it was really happening.

“Race you to the door!” He grinned before starting off like a lunatic.

He could hear Derek follow him quickly but bumping into someone and apologizing before reaching Stiles again, his hand finding Stiles’ lower back as they tried to both squeeze in the entryway.

“Get it Stiles!” Stiles heard Erica shout out as they were about to open the coffee shop front door to head out. “Get it.”

“Bowchickabowwow!” Boyd sing-songed, slapping Erica’s ass with a dish towel.

Oh for fuck’s sake.

Stiles sent them the middle finger. They were going to hear him next time he comes in. He was not going to let them live it down. They probably won’t either, especially if their stupid prank actually worked. Stiles was probably not going to survive this.

Erica laughed. She knew she'd won.

“It’s not Valentine’s so I can’t be cupid but who says I’m not up for saving Christmas?! Thank me later!” She called after him.

Stiles wanted to retort, but Derek’s hand just found his, their fingers intertwined.

And yeah, this right here, this was a true Christmas miracle.

#flynnifox #stereksanta20 #*fic20 #*gifts20

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thorne93 · 4 years

Text

Inside the Criminal Mind (Part 15)

Prompt: You’re married to Dr. Spencer Reid of the BAU, and are a distinguished doctor yourself on the team. You’re sent down to Miami, Florida for teaching and as a side request from the FBI, to investigate a string of missing persons. When you think you’ve figured out who the unsub is, your life becomes more complicated than you ever could’ve imagined.

Word Count: 2158

Warnings: (throughout the fic –>) death, blood, gore, killings, language, disturbing mental notions, mentions of rapes/murder/etc (You know, Dexter and Criminal Minds related business)

Notes: Thank you so much to @arrow-guy, @carryonmyswansong, and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo - without each of you, I couldn’t have finished, written, or properly navigated this story. Each of you helped me fish out details that were incredibly important to me. Beta’d by @carryonmyswansong and @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo… Aesthetic by @mrs-dragneel-stark-solo

This is a crossover of Criminal Minds x Dexter. First time writing Dexter.

Also, the timeline is after Season 1 of Dexter, but during season 14-ish of Criminal minds into Season 15. Enjoy!!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Over the course of the next month, you and Dexter had three more kills. In this time you learned how to change the dosage of tranq for different sized people, how to carry someone of larger size and stage the kill room for them. You were getting a lot more comfortable with stalking, following, tracking.

Dexter didn’t have you hold the knife for the next three times. He felt like the first time, you needed to understand every aspect of what he was doing. After that, it was all about logistics.

When to abduct and how, when to strike, where to take them, how long to hold them, how to keep them subdued...

Of course, he had gone over how this was going to eventually turn into your own MO, you’re own signature. He might’ve taught you how to get the victims, how to properly keep the room clean, and how to dispose of them, but he realized that this had to be tailored to you.

“So, you’re going to do an eye for an eye, right?” he asked while you were in his apartment, sitting next to his computer.

“Right,” you nodded, sitting beside him.

“Okay, you’ll have to make sure you take them to the proper place then. Drowning, make sure there’s a bathtub or cinder blocks, duct tape and rope, if you want to just send them to the bottom of the ocean.”

You nodded. “Mhm.”

“Just, be sure when you go out on your own you’ve got all the information so you can carry out the kill how you want.”

“I will.”

“How are you going to dispose of them? Are you going to use my method or something else?”

“Well I don’t have a boat…”

“Hmm, could be a problem. Plus you’ve got your husband and you can’t bury in the backyard or he might wonder.”

“Definitely not, and it’d be an immediate tie to me.”

“We really need to think of a good disposal method for you then.”

“Wood chipper?”

“Ah, yes, let’s spray DNA all over the place with a loud machine,” he said with an eyeroll.

“Oh, excuse me for not being well versed in body-disposal. You know, typically my job is finding bodies, not keeping them under lock and key.”

“Which is why you need me,” he reminded.

“I do need you,” you said with a slight laugh. “We’ll think of something,” you assured.

“Yeah, and for now, for your first one, we can dispose of it my way.”

“Thanks, Dex.”

The two of you went on discussing strategy and any other crucial detail you’d need to carry out your crimes successfully, in your area, with your job.

Since you’d left Spence back in D.C. you hadn’t said much to him, at all. It was down to about one phone call a week and it was typically about work.

You knew it wasn’t his fault that JJ felt how she did or said what she said. You knew that maybe it was true that he felt like he didn’t need to remind her that both of them were married to other people. But the fact of the matter was, he kept this little secret between them for a long time. Only they were privy to it, and somehow that really hurt, that they shared a moment, a secret, a confession like that and he didn’t think it was important to tell you. By keeping it between them, it gave JJ power, and possibly motive, to think that he really did feel something for her.

Distancing yourself from Spence probably wasn’t the best idea, if you were worried about him straying, but it hurt too much to hear his voice, to wonder what else he was hiding. To wonder if he worked a job with JJ. To wonder if he was stealing glances at her and wishing he could have more. To wonder if he regretted not going after her more intensely all those years ago.

Being around Dexter, whether you were killing, planning, or just hanging out, he provided a sense of distraction.

You wondered though, analyzing yourself, if maybe it wasn’t Spence you couldn’t face. Maybe it was yourself. Maybe it was the fact that Dexter should be behind bars now, and he wasn’t, because of you. He was still killing, still committing crimes, still out on the streets. He wasn’t a bad guy. He didn’t harm kids, and his days with animals were over, and he only helped the world by stopping these guys.

But for years, you have been so ingrained with oaths, vows, honor to protect the country. Every night before you went to bed since you’d been down in Miami, you recited the FBI oath before sleep. And you couldn’t find anywhere that you were breaking that. People were dying, yes, but how was it any different than when you draw your gun on an unsub, or kill them with Dexter in a kill room?

Now, you had to lie every day to Spencer. Every kiss, every hug, every text, every call was a lie. So maybe, the avoidance of him was to protect you, rather than any anger your harbored towards him. The less time you spent on the phone, the less time you’d have to try and hide things. Less time to try and come up with a lie. You couldn’t tell him who you were now. Spencer might as well be married to a stranger, and that killed you. You still loved him, and you still wanted every atom of his being.

But would he still want you? Probably not, and the idea of losing him killed you.

The idea of lying to him hurt you even worse though.

Because much like with JJ, the lying, the secrecy is what hurt, not the actual confession. JJ has a right to her feelings, and you had yours. But neither one of them had been honest with you, and that’s what you couldn’t forgive.

Yet, here you were, a murderer, accomplice of a murderer, and every word out of your mouth was a lie. You never want to turn on Dexter or turn him in. Sometimes you wondered if you should just wipe your hands, part ways with Dexter, and return home after schooling.

But other times, you knew you needed to make sure people that Dexter hunted weren’t getting away. At this point, you’d already done what you’d done, and telling Spencer now would serve as nothing but to hurt him.

So this was the way it had to be.

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

Only two weeks had gone by since your last kill with Dexter, when he messaged you.

“You need to meet me tonight, if you’re free,” Dex texted you around lunchtime.

“What time?”

“7:00, my place.”

“I’ll be there.”

And here you were, at his door with some pizza and beer, like always.

“Alright, I’m here. Got a new kill?” you asked, stepping inside.

“Yes, but not for me,” he stated and your mouth suddenly went dry as your heart hammered in your chest. “Come look at this.”

He turned the laptop to face you slightly before you sat down next to him.

“Alright, I found a guy who’s running a dog fighting ring just outside Miami.”

You slowly nodded. “Okay, so how bad is it?”

“Pretty bad. I’m not sure how much damage you need to make a decision but it looks like about three dogs a night, and he does it about two or three nights a week. Pit bulls seem to be his speciality, but he’s got doberman and german shepherds. I’ve got a few pictures of the hurt dogs if you want to--”

“No, no, please don’t show those to me.”

“You sure? They can be good motivators.”

“No, I don’t need that sort of shit in my mind, Dex, alright? Just… you’re sure? You’re positive this is happening, right?”

“If you want to be sure, we can go to the place where they hold the fights. I’m sure you could find some dogs in cages. I could even go to a fight, if you wanted…”

You shook your head. “No, that’s too risky for you. Plus you don’t exactly blend in with that crowd.”

“Imagine that, a serial killer who looks too good to be mistaken for a dog fight enthusiast,” he muttered, amused.

You slightly laughed, bumping his shoulder with yours.

“Well, let’s go by the place. If I see the dogs, I’ll be good to go,” you assured.

“Alright. We could go tonight, unless you have papers to grade or something,” he said, peering at you.

“Me? No, I’m good. We can go.”

“Yeah, sure. Okay, we can eat then head out.”

“Sounds good.”

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

Driving around a sketchy part of the neighborhood, Dexter finally stopped his car in an alley.

“Alright, this is it. Just over that brick wall should be the dogs and a garage styled building. Inside is where the fighting happens. Now, I can go and check it out, or… we both can. It’s up to you.”

You swallowed, thinking. Did you want to see this? Did you want your gut to just churn?

No, but you in a sense, Dex was right. You needed that thing to remind you why you were here, why you were doing this. What your purpose in all this was.

“Let’s go.”

He nodded, eyeing you up and down before saying, “Alright.” He unbuckled his belt and climbed out of his car, you following suit. The two of you jumped out, him in his hunting gear, and you in your all black ensemble. You walked over to the brick wall where Dexter scaled the wall and you were right behind him. As soon as you landed on the other side, it became quick that this was indeed a dark, horrible place.

About a dozen a dogs were in cages, but instead of barking at you, like they should’ve, it was completely quiet. The dogs simply cowered against the back part of the cages and your heart immediately broke for them.

Dexter looked at you, then he gestured with his head towards the garage shop. “Let’s see what’s inside. Come on.”

You nodded, following him. He picked a lock and you followed him inside. Inside was a single dim light, showing a dirt floor. No dogs were in here, but in the dirt you could see all sorts of blood and it made tears spring to your eyes.

“Oh, Dex,” you all but cried. “What sort of horrible people do this?”

“Some pretty sick people,” he agreed.

Shaking your head, you turned around and went out to the little yard that was walled in with bricks.

“I want to set these dogs free, and I want to get this mother fucker soon -- this week,” you said, your teeth gritted. Sorrow quickly gave way to hate and anger.

“He’ll just find more,” he stated.

“I know, but maybe we can at least save these. Please? I can’t walk away from them…” You were kneeling in front of one dog’s cage.

He looked around, probably trying to contemplate the consequences.

“Okay. Yeah.”

“Thank you,” you said emphatically. “Okay, now we need to get them to a shelter. I don’t want them roaming the streets, especially not in this neighborhood.”

“Y/N, I didn’t come here for a rescue mission--”

“Neither did I, Dex, but we’re here, and I can’t leave them. Who knows how many more he’s going to kill before I can get to him?”

“Well if you call this in to some group though, and then the guy ends up dead…”

“That’s why I suggest we take them to a shelter.”

“I don’t have the kind of room to do that in my car,” he remarked.

You stood up, running your hands through your hair. “Shit. So what do we do? I can’t leave them, I can’t let them loose…”

Dexter looked around, clearly trying to think of a solution to the situation.

“Let’s just... “ He glanced around, and found a truck. “We can load them in the back of that truck and then drop them off at a shelter. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. That works. Thank you.”

He got the old truck started, and the two of you backed it up to the yard. The two of you worked quickly to load the dogs, then you got to the truck to a shelter only ten minutes away. He returned the truck back to the spot he found it, then you got in his car and left.

“That was… the most heroic stalk I’ve ever done,” Dexter noted.

You looked over at him with a kind smile. “Thank you, Dexter. You don’t know how much that meant to me.”

“Don’t mention it. So, you ready to kill Angel Rodriguez now?”

The question threw you for a second, before slowly nodding. “Yeah, yeah I am.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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#inside the criminal mind #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fic #spencer reid #dexter fic #dexter morgan fic #dexter morgan #dexter

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joondaily · 7 years

Text

All I See Is You

pairing: Boyfriend!Taehyung x Reader genre: Fluff warning: sugary sweet romance word count: 2317

Even if the world decided to swallow you whole and send you back to the days where you had struggled, so long as he was there, you would be happy, because loving him was the sole reason you lived so blissfully.

He’s late. You can’t believe he’s late. Is it not customary for the star of the show to arrive on time and greet the incoming guests? Instead here you are, watching as the exhibition to your boyfriend’s latest gallery open its doors to the massive crowd waiting outside. It is difficult to believe how he has managed to build a positive reputation with his habits of tardiness. The beginnings of a lecture start to run through your mind, it’s rehearsal driving your nerves upward. However, before your irritation can be vocalized Taehyung appears a few ways down the street, fingers fumbling with his brightly patterned tie.

As angry as you are at him, your heart couldn’t help but skip a few beats when the sunlight hits his profile, casting shadows beautifully across his skin just before a smile breaks across his features and he sends his arms into a high wave to greet you. The man who could so easily be mistaken for a sculpture is currently sprinting down the sidewalk, his long coat desperately trying to catch up to its owner.

“Finally, I was beginning to think you bailed.” You reach your hands up to recover the damage the wind has done on Taehyung’s curls, stifling a laugh at his shaggy appearance. Before you could move a single strand back in its place, however, steady hands wrapped around your waist and lifted you into the air that had you squealing as your boyfriend spun you around.

“Babe, I was trying to look like a true artist. You know that artistry is in the least expected of places, like my bed head.” He places a light kiss against your forehead as he sets you down, eyes sparkling as he properly looks at you for the first time today. “Though I see that you’ve managed to outdo me again, as expected of my world-class fashion designer.”

You huff and brush off his compliment, turning your face away ever so slightly so that your crimson cheeks could take shelter behind you locks. How he manages to set a thousand butterflies free in your stomach after all these years baffles you, but you do nothing except let your heart swell bigger than it already is. You grasped his hand, and urged him into the museum where the many adventures you and Taehyung had been on together were on display for the world to see captured in timeless photographs.

Taehyung doesn’t let go of your hand as he navigates the pair of you two through the crowd, nodding polite greetings to those who recognize the young, talented photographer. You could tell that your boyfriend was particularly excited to give you a private tour of his exhibit, even though you had lived through most of the moments captured on the walls. You give his hand a little squeeze as the two of you passed by the time when Taehyung thought it was a good idea to go to a see-in-the-dark restaurant for date night, forgetting that he himself was terrified of darkness.

“You ate all of my spaghetti that night, I’ll never forgive you.” You smile up to Taehyung. Who, to your surprise, was already looking back at you. “You even ate the meatballs.”

The two of you had been together for so long now, the adventures you had been on together were starting to blur. The one memory that remained clear, however, was the first picture you had ever taken of the beautiful man. Ironic how a journey with a photographer started with a shot you took of him.

Years ago, when you were just starting to navigate your talents in the fashion school, you had stumbled upon a ‘designer block’ for your senior assignment. The amount of stress and anxiety that had build as the blank sketch book stared back at you had became too much for you to bear. Deciding to look for inspiration elsewhere, or simply to clear your mind, you grab your phone and head towards the park near your home.

You escape your narrow apartment as crimson leaves fall from their branches, paving a path for you towards rows of perfectly planted trees. You curse at the focus you left back at your drawing table and inability to absorb the beautiful the scenery around you, mind still desperately scrambling for fulfilling designs. Drowned in your thoughts, you failed to realize when the leaves had taken you right to a place where a living and breathing source of inspiration stood right before you.

Sunlight sneaks into your vision, causing you to squint at the tall figure before you. His facial structure could have been one worth many moons of work by a master, with a side profile so well animated you could not believe a simple human looked liked one of the gods. You longed to see his eyes, yet they were currently narrowed into the lens of a camera that looked far too professional for your purposes. His lips slightly parted in focus but you could not be bothered to follow his gaze, you were too mesmerized by the most beautiful man you had ever seen.

Years of fashion design education told you that turquoise silk pants and a red, striped flannel would have never worked together, but somehow, on him it did. The boy who stood before you could easily defy any rules you ever studied in your magazines and still turn it into art. Still trapped your trance, your hand unknowingly reached for your phone to take a photo for ‘inspiration’.

Snap

The device almost falls from your grasp as the sound gives away your actions and location. God. You remembered that you had forgotten to turn of the ringer from this morning’s alarm and you cursed at your forgetful mind, flames intruded you cheeks as you realize what you had done. Bracing yourself for an awkward explanation as a first impression, you calm your beating heart and practice how you will explain your actions to the handsome stranger, hoping that by a miracle he won’t embarrass you. However, before you could bend over to pick up the small device, the boy in red whipped his head around with a gaze of peculiarity as he strode lazily towards your frozen figure.

“Did you just take my photo?”

You glance up at him and mentally note that his eyes are akin to brown hazelnuts, just deep enough to make your heart melt. The words to justify yourself fell short, though, as the boy’s hand reached from his pocket and swiftly scooped up your phone.

“S-sorry! The sunlight was hitting the scenery so beautifully I wanted to commemorate it. If you’re unhappy about being in it, I’ll delete it.” You extended your hand out, expecting your small phone to be placed in your hands so you could carry out your promise, but he was no longer listening to you. Instead, he gave the screen a quick tap, bringing up his photo with a furrow of his eyebrows as if he were analyzing the image.

Blood rushed to your cheeks as you anxiously watched his actions, embarrassed at the photo’s obvious focus on him instead of the park like you described. You watch as his fingers zoom in and out on each corner of your screen, eyebrows now knotted. “You’re not a good photographer.”

“Excuse me?”

The boy looks up to meet your gaze and you confirm your suspicions of his eyes being capable of melting your very soul, hitching your breath as you attempt to not reveal the rapid beating of your heart. “I mean, you haven’t captured the light at all. The overall component of the shot is good, but your angle is causing the light to hit in all sorts of wrong places.”

He takes a big step towards you, causing you to scrunch tightly, afraid that you will surely combust if he as much as grazes your arm. “Look here, from where you took the photo the sunlight is completely blocked out. You should position the camera a little lower and put your primary focus on how the light hits my form. Exposure is everything with natural lighting.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

He flashes you a boxy grin and smoothly hands your phone back to you. “So you can take it again! Here, I’ll go back to where I was standing.”

Dumbfounded, you did as the boy directed and retook the photo from his said angle, unsure of why he wasn’t angry or why you were complying to his request. As you check the newly taken photo he runs towards you, swooping you in an almost-hug to look at the picture.

The sunlight hits the boy’s figure perfectly, highlighting his every feature as if they were kissed by Apollo himself. Beams of light trickle around him, making his oddly matched outfit stand out against the auburns of the autumn leaves. You almost joke and ask if he was a model as his stance was not an inch off from the previous one when you noticed his gaze.

While you were left daydreaming about his eyes before, in this version of the photo the boy was looking directly at you with his warm eyes. His gaze pushed up into crescent moons as if he was looking straight into your soul. You blush at how incredibly handsome this stranger is and try to convince yourself to treat him to coffee as payment for taking his photo.

“Oh, you did so well! I can’t believe you did that on your first try, you might be more of a genius than I am.” He leans too close to you, his every breath fanning your neck as he inspects your handiwork, and you urge the thought to turn and kiss him right then and there to the back of your mind. “I’m Kim Taehyung, by the way. Pretty lady who took my photo, what’s your name?”

“Babe. Baby!” You turn your head to see your boyfriend’s pouting face. “Were you listening to anything I was saying? What could you be thinking about that’s more important than me?”

“Where to buy the world’s loudest alarm clock so you’re never late again.” Inflating Taehyung’s ego right now would do nothing but encourage him to be late again in the future, so you bite back your memories and allow the photographer to lace his fingers through yours as you walk into the exhibition.

“I’m sorry for being late...most of the time. Let’s enjoy the exhibit, though, huh?” At the tug of Taehyung’s hand, the two of you start on a trip down memory lane. Initially you had objected his idea of using photos from every date the two of you had ever been on as the theme for his first major portfolio, but Taehyung’s eager whines made your stubbornness soften and you braced yourself for the world to know of your love.

A favorite photo of yours passes by, one of the old, narrow apartment your boyfriend had spent so many nights over at. The place was well beyond historic with its chipping paint and cracking floors, repair fees causing the two of you to live on nothing but instant noodles and crackers. It was almost silly how much you enjoyed being a broke student with Taehyung despite all its late night convenience store hunts and rumbling bellies.

It was, however, with him. The boy who made canned tuna taste like the freshest five star dish you had ever tasted, who made dollar store candles capable of wooing you deeper into romance, and the boy who made your saddest days your happiest. You remember how much the dependence on each other during your student days fortified your relationship with Taehyung, your love growing stronger with each smile he casted your way.

You shift your stance to remind Taehyung of the time when he was so hungry he contemplated eating the shell of his boiled egg, when you catch him staring down at you. “Why are you looking at me? We are here to see your work.”

“I’ve seen these photographs a million times while editing, happiest workdays of my life, may I add. I got to re-live all the times I found myself thanking whatever entity is out there for letting me meet you, all I ever see is you in these photos. All I see is you.”

As crimson flooded the apples of your cheeks, his grip tightened around your hand, his figure leaned into yours to brush his lips against yours in a soft kiss. The curve of his smile drew one of your own and with a tug of your hand in his, you pull him closer and delve yourself into the bliss that is Kim Taehyung. Time seemed to stop and all of the exhibit’s visitors seemed to have evaporated into time and space, it was just you and Taehyung, surrounded by your memories throughout the years.

He retreats from you but lingers, pressing a mere peck to the corner of your mouth with that same boxy smile, confirming that he is the only person in the universe that could fit you so right, so perfect. This boy who was a walking fashion catastrophe, who dedicated his entire career to loving you, who continuously showed you in all the most mundane ways why he had been your muse from the start. Even if the world decided to swallow you whole and send you back to the days where you had struggled, so long as he was there, you would be happy, because loving him was the sole reason you lived so blissfully.

His hands smooth over the back of your dress as you lean away from him, your fingers gently running over his cheek as your eyes drink in the masterpiece before you, the man you called yours. “All I see is you too.”

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tiang0u · 7 years

Text

you’ve made me a home

After graduation, Shōto tentatively helps his mother move into a new house but finds his way home all the same (ft. Midoriya Izuku and Midoriya Inko).

crossposted on ao3

His mother chooses a two-story house in a peaceful corner of the Shizuoka prefecture, away from the bustling metropolitan, in a small sea-side city called Itō with halting cliffs and precipices. It is a jagged slab of land closed in by two cerulean realms, and the sky-holding tides crash and claw up the rocky walls. When the sun sets, the heavens bleed fire-engine red like a war at the end of the world, and the horizon burns.

When Shōto asked why she chose a place [so violent] like this, she cupped his cheek [his scar] softly and said she had missed the colors.

[He wonders, a crushed thought in the wells of beaten hope, if she could have meant it was beautiful.]

I’ll be at work, Fuyumi said regretfully, the day before the move, but gave him a sage smile and waved a finger at him. This is still a good opportunity, Shōto! And you can invite your friends to help!

The time his mother spent in the hospital diminished her want of worldly possessions, but she decided on keeping some remnants of the past. So from her old prisons, he recovered what he could. Fuyumi had helped pack—things that she was certain their mother would want, the nature of them concealed from him.

And clothes. A decade of disuse has rotted away the old worn cotton, and the few clothes his mother had with her were grey like her hospital sheets, so some days before she was formally discharged, they went into a department store.

At some point, Fuyumi went to look at shoes.

Carrying a pile of clothes like a beast of burden, he floundered stoically in the blouse section until she returned, and before that, a grandmother wobbled past him with an amused gleam, and her grandson followed after, and he realized, with a crashing feeling, that he did not know how to proceed from here.

Among other things, he acquired a license in his third year at U.A.

His mother had a license too before she married, but when they make the journey to Itō, she rolls the windows down from the passenger’s side.

Fondly, she leans against the frame, cupping her chin, watching as Shōto molds the wheels to the slow curve of the road.

Deep blue water flanks their right, flung out from the hilly land like an infinite strip, and he’s only half-sure that she is tracing his side profile only—and not the scar, and not the sea.

Semi-confidently, he had assumed his mother would want simple lightweight furniture for a cleanly traditional home.

When they pull up in the driveway, he realizes he was mistaken.

It is modern in every sense of the word, but humble.

A small iron gate. No overly grandiose [training] halls—only a cozy kitchen with an electric stove and a view into a modest backyard garden. No sliding doors—only doors with knobs that lock and do not split under forceful fists. There are windows in every corner of the house to welcome sunbeams, and from every angle, yellow light warms the white carpet and blurs the sharp corners, and he could be dreaming.

Maybe this was the house his mother had always wanted.

He finds himself wondering what else she had desired, what future she would have wanted for herself had she not wedded what made her weep.

She had dreams too. [Then nightmares.] Everyone does.

“A couch with five pillows,” she muses, thoughtfully analyzing the living room. “And a coffee table.” Then she looks to him and asks, “And a television?”

“And picture frames,” he says. His voice cracks embarrassingly in the open space.

“And picture frames,” she agrees with a soft hum.

Fuyumi [3:46 PM] Settled in? Did you buy furniture?

[3:47 PM] You Yes, and Mom wanted to go tomorrow

Fuyumi [3:47 PM] Oh Are you sleeping in a hotel then?

[3:47 PM] You We have some old futons

Fuyumi [3:47 PM] ok! You should call some friends to help tomorrow

[3:49 PM] You It’s ok

(Both bedrooms face the direction of the sea.

His mother does not expect any of her children to settle down and stay, but the guest bedroom should be decorated nonetheless.)

The small rental car isn’t big enough to fit two mattresses, two bed frames, a couch, a coffee table, a dinner table, a washer and dryer, and a desk, so Shōto trades it in for a moving truck.

The store owner is an old man who regretfully informs him that all of his strong men are on vacation, but offers his meager strength and kindly tries to help Shōto haul the heavy furniture into the truck body. Telling his mother that he’ll take care of it, he ends up painstakingly pushing most of it up the ramp himself.

With the dryer left, Shōto is considering whether using his quirk will damage the inner workings when a voice calls out to him.

“Todoroki-kun!”

He sets down the metal and turns around.

The sight that greets him: Midoriya Inko engaging his mother casually as Midoriya himself waves, running up to him.

“Fuyumi-san called and said you were moving in,” he explains, panting, and with ease, lifts the heavy machine into his hands, carrying it up the ramp and into the truck. “Sorry we’re late!”

Shōto is still blinking in surprise. First, at Midoriya’s unexpected appearance, and second, at the breathless laughter behind him. He finds his mother, and her eyes are wide in awe and delight as she exchanges an impressed look with him. She gestures behind him, and he turns around to find Midoriya rolling up the ramp singlehandedly and closing up the back.

Showoff, Shōto thinks kindly, lips quirking upwards, and when Midoriya walks over to him with an abashed grin, he releases a sigh the way one sheds their shoes and worldly burdens in the genkan.

After Shōto greets Midoriya Inko with homely familiarity, it’s funny that they both look on with bated breath as Midoriya approaches his mother.

“Pardon my earlier rudeness!” Midoriya says with a low bow, staring at her sandaled feet. He must mean that he didn’t greet her earlier, but that’s not something that needs forgiveness. The sea breeze ruffles his hair, and he continues, “My name is Midoriya Izuku. I’m one of Todoroki-kun’s friends. I-It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

He flushes pink and straightens up when she touches his shoulder, but they lock eyes and souls and Midoriya’s uncertainty fades.

“The pleasure is mine,” she replies kindly. Her voice was molten when he spoke his name; her grey eyes smoldered in the sunlight when he said one of. “Thank you, Izuku-kun.”

Something about the way the four of them crowd into the small corner market is reminiscent of a family. The two of them follow their mothers quietly with a single shopping cart, and Shōto has long forgotten how it feels; he can’t even be sure that he ever knew, that this is what it’s like, but the feeling begs to be called nostalgia, and it tugs low beneath his ribs and brims and bubbles wetly in the chambers of his heart.

Even something as simple as eavesdropping on a conversation between two mothers, one of them his own, is a pleasure he never had. He marvels because he’s never heard his mother speak so casually, at ease, kindred.

“So Fuyumi-san will be visiting tomorrow?”

“Yes, her vacation begins on the weekend. I hope she plans to leave her work behind.” Unburdened laughter.

“I’m sure! This city really is too beautiful to stay indoors—”

“Todoroki-kun,” Midoriya whispers to him, pulling him from his reverie.

Only faintly sheepish at being caught, he looks over, but Midoriya shakes his head to clear the misunderstanding. He looks at Shōto meaningfully and murmurs, breath stuttering a little, “How have you been?”

Shōto shrugs. “I don’t know,” he says quietly. Then he pauses, re-evaluating his candid response, and offers, “I drove here.” The sea [the future] was so vast that he felt he could’ve drowned just looking.

“You drove?” Midoriya repeats, knowing and excited.

The truth of his third year was that he avoided it. Logically.

The driver’s seat is on the right, affording the shotgun rider a full view of his scarred flesh, and though it wouldn’t have bothered him, he considered how awkward it would be for others and never offered.

“It was relaxing,” Shōto hums. “I would do it again.”

Midoriya’s grin trembles powerfully. “If you say that to everyone, you’ll be driving every second of your life.”

“Maybe,” he returns, like a promise, and brings the cart to a stop when Midoriya taps his shoulder.

His mother, who backtracked, and Midoriya, who walks forward, reach for the buckwheat noodles at the same time.

Their hands touch. His mother blinks in surprise as Midoriya awkwardly apologizes, and air catches somewhere in Shōto’s lungs where love breathes.

“Don’t worry, Izuku-kun,” his mother says in amusement. “Can you tell me what snacks Shōto likes?”

Shōto stares, and Midoriya Inko sidles up to him with a gentle pat, a soft giggle, and tells him, “Let it happen, Shōto-kun.”

“Izuku talks about Shōto-kun a lot,” Midoriya’s mother says as they take the five minute walk back to the house.

“Mom,” Midoriya says in the back, scandalized.

His mother doesn’t hold back either. “It’s the same with Shōto,” she says cheerily. “I’ve only ever heard great things about Izuku-kun. Shōto really admires him.”

Shōto almost trips.

“The ice cream is melting,” he says apologetically when everyone looks at him, and his mother smiles knowingly and trades bags with him; the plastic and its contents freeze over in her hold.

Midoriya’s eyes are star-struck at her quirk in a way that only means respect and esteem—[this must have been the first time in over a decade]—and it is not lost on her, because her smile widens.

“Why don’t we put the groceries away and let the boys sort through the boxes,” Midoriya’s mother suggests when they arrive, and Shōto’s mother hums in agreement.

“Come down for snacks later,” she tells them, and Shōto watches them walk away, committing to memory the relaxed slant of her shoulders.

There are at least six different boxes in the guest bedroom, and Shōto is only sure of the contents in half of them.

He comes to understand exactly why Fuyumi didn’t let him look in the other three.

“Todoroki-kun sure is an artist,” Midoriya says, sounding mightily impressed.

When Shōto turns around from his own box, Midoriya is holding up a harshly crinkled paper. There is a crooked red, white, and blue triangle topped with a wobbly yellow circle labeled All Might in absolute chicken scratch.

He forgot that it even existed. By all means, just by the rendered caliber, it shouldn’t have. For everyone’s sake. He doesn’t know what Fuyumi was thinking. How could their mother want something like this?

Midoriya reaches in and pulls out a self-portait next; Shōto chokes.

“We’re switching boxes,” Shōto demands, and Midoriya giggles so hard he tears up.

[Not everyone can be good at drawing at birth like Midoriya anyway.]

They go down for snacks a little after finishing unpacking the boxes in the guest bedroom. Next is the master bedroom, his mother’s room, and Midoriya hesitates at the thought of intruding, but Shōto checks with his mother who simply waves an unconcerned hand.

“There’s nothing Izuku-kun can’t see,” she reasons, pausing from her conversation with Midoriya’s mother—most of it is just old relics and trinkets, no dark secrets.

Which is why, halfway through unpacking the boxes, he should have expected this.

Midoriya sucks in a sharp breath—reminiscent of pain, like he’s maybe cut himself with the box-cutter on accident—and Shōto immediately whirls around, only to find Midoriya staring oddly down into one of the boxes.

“Midoriya.”

Midoriya looks up.

Something about the light in his eyes has changed, the way his irises are watery green.

“Todoroki-kun was really cute as a kid,” Midoriya says, earnest.

He sounds like he was expecting this. Shōto doesn’t respond quickly enough—shell-shocked—and almost like insult to injury, that prompts Midoriya to hold up the photo in explanation, a photo of him with food smeared across his round face, and unfortunately, these are things that he wasn’t ready to let the world see, ever, so he surges forward to reclaim his dark past and ends up pushing Midoriya down in the process.

Midoriya’s head hits the carpeted floor with a soft thunk; a groan follows.

Because Shōto has priorities, he retrieves the photo from Midoriya’s slack hand—and then apologizes and checks to see if Midoriya is okay.

“The carpet barely made a difference,” Midoriya tells him, staying on the floor, but catching the contriteness of Shōto’s expression, he waves it off cheerily. “Don’t worry! I have a thick skull!”

“It’s good to be proud,” Shōto replies, maneuvering to the side to sit next to him.

He muses absentmindedly that, in all of those photos, he probably wouldn’t have the scar then. His mother wouldn’t want those anyway. They’re trying to move forward, and they don’t need to revisit the past when they still don’t know how to approach the future.

“Todoroki-kun, there were a lot of yearbooks in there,” Midoriya says nonchalantly.

It would probably be good to burn them now then, Shōto thinks, as Midoriya shifts onto his side to look Shōto in the eyes.

Shōto glances back at him through the corner of his own.

“What are you thinking about right now, Todoroki-kun?” he asks suddenly. “You seem…hesitant. If that makes sense.”

Even though this room affords a privacy that the corner market did not have, when Midoriya asked the first time, looking up at the ceiling fan doesn’t help Shōto find the words, so he looks back at Midoriya and replies, “There are a lot of things that could happen from this point on. I’m…having trouble.”

“What do you want to happen?”

Shōto sighs. “I don’t know what I’m allowed to want.” Not even at the point of being allowed to have.

He notices when Midoriya’s hand shifts closer to his slack one. Even when their fingertips are centimeters away, the pads of his skin warm with phantom heat.

“Don’t think about it too much, Todoroki-kun,” Midoriya says. “You can want anything. Sometimes it’s out of your control, but that’s human.”

Shōto turns his head to face him directly.

“What kinds of things do you want then?” he asks.

Midoriya blinks, making a wry face. Then he scratches his head and says, “I don’t really have anything profound… They might seem really mundane, I think. But I want to rescue a lot of people with everyone. And become the greatest hero, of course. And maybe eat katsudon for dinner.” He sits up slowly. “I want to see All Might soon. Just t-to make sure he’s doing well. Even though we just graduated, but we’re not students anymore…”

Leaning back against the wall, he tilts his head.

“I think I’d like to have a better relationship with Kacchan. Kirishima-kun really mellowed him out because recently he actually grumbled ‘thanks’ when I picked up his papers, but then he got aggravated and walked away,” he laughs. And then sighs. “And originally, I thought, maybe Uraraka-san is better for helping move heavy furniture…but after Fuyumi-san called, I didn’t tell anyone else because maybe it would be overwhelming because everyone would have come,” he continues. “But that’s not the only reason.” A huff. “This sounds childish but—I wanted to be the one to help.”

In conclusion, Midoriya clasps his hands together.

“I have really simple-minded wants that are kind of selfish,” he murmurs. “So I think Todoroki-kun especially is allowed to want anything.”

“Midoriya, those aren’t selfish,” Shōto points out.

Midoriya laughs. “Maybe it’s how you interpret it,” he replies. “Being selfish isn’t always a bad thing.”

Shōto lets out a slow exhale. “Then you could probably be a little more selfish too, you know.”

“Okay. If Todoroki-kun’s mother calls me Izuku, Todoroki-kun should too.”

The world slows to a stop in the span of two seconds. It only starts again when he remembers how to breathe.

That’s rich coming from a boy who not only addresses him in third person, by his family name, but also tacks on an honorific. Shōto ignores the way his organs have lost their gravity.

“You first,” he retorts.

“Fine. Shōto.”

The way Midoriya’s face progressively reddens is fascinating. Shōto is sure his cheeks are faintly pink as well—he couldn’t have missed the fondness that bathed the sound of his name from Midoriya’s tender tongue—but Midoriya is a crimson star, putting his hands up to his face and waving away Shōto’s gaze unsuccessfully.

“Gah—don’t—don’t look,” Midoriya stammers. “I was wrong—it was—I’m sorry—it w-was embarrassing after all!”

Quietly, Shōto doesn’t look away. “I don’t mind.”

Midoriya’s eyes find his through the spaces between his fingers—and then, finally, those warped fingers lower.

“It’s your turn then…Shōto…kun.”

“Drop the honorific,” Shōto sighs. And then: “Izuku.” It would have been suave had his voice not cracked on the first syllable, and then the remaining two after that.

Even then, Midoriya is worse off—he groans and covers his face with his hands again, his cheeks even redder than before.

“Why do you look so unaffected,” he mutters, fanning himself.

“I’m not unaffected,” Shōto mumbles back, a flush crawling up his nape, and here they are, U.A. graduates and pro heroes, in his mother’s bedroom, bumbling over first names.

“I’m sorry—I think I went too far,” Midoriya begins.

But Shōto takes his warped fingers and says, “No. You didn’t. I want to.” Be on a first name basis. With you.

At last, Midoriya stops trying to wave away the red.

It’s a promise. And then Shōto yawns a little.

On the topic of wants.

“I want to sleep,” he says as an afterthought.

“Wait—you haven’t even eaten dinner!”

The sun is setting by the time they finish—and Shōto feels a little more certain about how to take on the unknown future, but for now, he does not have to think about it, because they are all going out to dinner together, per Midoriya Inko’s final suggestion.

There is a small, quaint café in a neighboring town that is quiet but renowned. It serves many popular foods, and then more traditional dishes—so Midoriya can eat katsudon and Shōto can eat zarusoba, and it doesn’t occur to him to be suspicious [because they are subtle]—the zarusoba there is highly reputed in the whole prefecture. Shōto knows, because he wanted to go there once, but it was a family restaurant, and though Fuyumi offered to go with him he declined. He just…has a vague understanding he is being given something.

Up ahead, Midoriya Inko ruffles her son’s hair and then pinches a cheek. Midoriya splutters but takes it—and then, lost in the way Midoriya’s steps always angle towards her, he almost misses it when his mother calls his name.

He turns.

She holds the crown of his head carefully, with intent. And kisses him on the scar.

Owlishly, he blinks back at her, but she offers no explanation [because it speaks for itself], not even when his lips quiver in turmoil and she smiles and turns back to the front, and it’s only after Midoriya says, “I’ll sit in the front!” so that he and his mother can sit together in the back that it dawns on him that this is really something dangerous to get used to. This—

—is love.

#bnha fic #tododeku #one-shot #once again i could not resist self-indulging #i would like for shouto to be a happy boy and then my hand slipped #common themes in my works include : shouto receiving love and support lmao #izuku looks out for shouto a lot a universal fact

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furederiko · 7 years

Photo

The Devil's Scientist made his influences known, eventhough he's not around in flesh and soul... or is he? Hmmmm....

You know the drill, last time it was my internet that behaved badly. This time, my health was the the culprit. Forcing me to stay in bed since last week, postponing all the plans I've made and posts I've wanted to publish. To be completely honest though, this was initially meant to include episode 10 that's about to air in just 2 hours from now (following last week's break). In a last minute hours decision, I've decided to delay episode 10, and batch that one alongside the other November episodes. Separating these episodes on a monthly basis sounds better for the long run, right? Okay then, here's episode 08 and 09...

08 - "Maternal Instinct"

- Hey there, we got to see the three Prime Ministers again. Along with their names, in case people have forgotten. I know I have, because last we saw them was 5 episodes ago. LOL. Yoshiko Tajimi of Hokuto questioned how the fugitive Kamen Rider was able to appear in her region. Masakuni Midou of Seito pointed out that Touto could be working on a military angle with this. Taizan Himuro of Touto obviously didn't have a clue, because it's his son who's playing with fire. - Aaah, yes, I guess there's good coming from the identity reveal of Night Rogue. Gentoku got to show up much more often now, and even in the battle! No more beating around the bushes or playing coy. We also learned a hint of his motive with the Kamen Rider system. It's clear that he wanted to build a military response to protect Touto from the threat of Seito and Hokuto, even if that's against the wishes of his own father who prefered to focus on economy. Classic case of Republican vs Democrat, eh? Then again, Gentoku could simply be exhibiting paranoia, constantly living in fear that the other regions are scheming to attack his region when that 'might' not be the case. For now, let's just wait and see... - Having learned from Blood Stalk that her son was the founder of Faust, Kyoka decided to give Sento and clown Ryuuga (no kidding, he had TWO cosplay jokes in one episode) a chance. In a sweet conversation she told them about Takumi, his love of science, and how he idolized his late father, the man previously responsible for Pandora's Box. - It's an intimate conversation, that was amped up by Sento's polite and emotional reaction when he ate Takumi's favorite dish: sweet rolled omelette (Tamagoyaki). Hmmm... this reaction felt odd. Could it be possible that, Sento is in fact... Takumi? As in, trapped in an outer body situation? Seriously though, the more I saw it, the more I felt how Takumi indeed resembled so much like him. This is a sci-fi show, so perhaps Takumi's consciousness was transferred into Sentou when he died? That's certainly one possibility. - Apparently, Kyoka left Takumi's research data in Touto, and wanted to retrieve that herself to ensure that it's given to the right hands. Sadly, that also caused her to be the prime target of Faust. Dang it, our boy Gentoku is ruthless! Not only he snatched Kyoka himself, he openly tricked her into giving the data, and then turned her into Smash just to erase his tracks. He wanted to protect Touto, but would do anything, even use dirty measures to get it done. Can't say I dislike this ambiguous side though... *grins* - The Fire Engine Full Bottle that Misora handed out was a Best Match with Hedgehog (the one from episode 1), turning Sento into "A Pin-Point Rescue", Fire Hedgehog form. FYI, this was the form that encouraged me to see this show... before I actually saw its appearance. I dig the design, but why the Red and White color scheme? To make it look like a Fire Truck? Hmmm... - Kyoka was rescued, but the memory of her meeting with Gentoku and Utsumi was already lost. Thankfully, Takumi had already planned out his own safety measure in advance, by planting the Bank's safety box as decoy. The real USB flash drive was hidden elsewhere by Kyoka, at a special place for both Takumi and her husband: Nanba Heavy Industries Composite Materials Laboratory. Sento and Ryuuga obtained the data, but Stalk has been... ugh, stalking them. - Ryuuga fought Stalk, prompting the Cobra to utter that intriguing phrase... of how his enemy's Hazard Level is already 2.4. He continued the battle to increase this number up to 2.7. I wonder why? Build on the other hand, dealt with Night Rogue who entered the battle. - The battle ended abruptly, when Stalk decided to... give the data to Ryuuga. HUH? Night Rogue furiously demanded an explanation as Build ran off with Ryuuga, to which Stalk revealed a sneaky reasoning. He did that on purpose... to let Sento do the hard work for their project (with Ryuuga as the subject). OUCH!!! Of course, this made me certain that Stalk could be Takumi after all. Let's just say, I wouldn't be surprised if he is. Remember Night Rogue? Takumi understood that only his mother knew where the data was hidden, so unlike Gentoku, he waited for her to make the move. And the way he analyzed Ryuuga in battle? That sounded like a mad scientist to me. - This episode ended in another strong note. Kyoka made her decision to entrust the research data to Sento. He returned the favor, by giving her Takumi's private message... "Thank you for giving me life.". Aaaaaw... THE FEELS. As I've said before, Kyoka has been a highlight for this show, and her story with Takumi was soooo compelling and heartfelt. I just hope this wasn't a massive redherring, when the show ends up revealing that Takumi is indeed... Stalk.

Overall: Great goodness!!! WHAT'S THE DEAL WITH THIS SHOW?! After being disappointed three episodes in a row, it delivered probably its best episode so far. Both in storyline and acting, particularly Kyoka's, Sento's, and Ryuuga's actors. It not only succeeded in making me VERY intrigued to see what's next, it even made me shed a tear. Of course, it's worth noted that this show still feels like a big game of charade. Moving back and forth and confusing audience with the character's motives and actions while the outcome is pretty much straightforward and simple. So here's a wild guess for the sake of speculation! Basically, these early episodes merely serve as a 'prelude', that will see all Riders (Build, Cross-Z, Rogue, Stalk, and probably more) working together to protect Touto against the other regions. I'm not betting my money on this theory, but if it that's indeed accurate... then I certainly won't be surprised.

09 - "Hazard-Level Twist"

- "PROJECT BUILD". Yep, that's the secret research data that Takumi left behind. Well, I'll be damned! Who would've guessed that Takumi was the true creator of the Build Driver, and not Sento, right? - That Takumi video. I wonder if this was meant to be Build's transformation video, instead of Sento's version? Some people might found this oddly filmed presentation to be... annoying. It honestly didn't shout nerdy scientist, more of a cocky flashy Tony STARK-esque. Remember how "Iron Man" used science for military? But that's good for the plot development, because it actually gave Takumi a proper characterization. Hmmm... his gesture and attitude felt familiar. Wait a sec... BLOOD STALK? *winks* - According to the exposition-heavy video, the Rider System was developed for 'ultimate defense'. Hence, weapons for military. Only people who has achieved a certain criteria could use the Build Driver. And that criteria? *drumrolls* Hazard Level. The phrase Stalk kept mumbling about since episode 6! It's a term used to describe resistance to Nebula Gas, ranging from 1 as the weakest, to 3 as those who could utilize the Driver. This explained why Ryuuga was zapped when he tried to trigger it. He couldn't use it... YET. Sento deduced that those human experiments were likely performed to find perfect candidates for the Driver. - Full Bottles were generated from Nebula Gas, combining a pair would produce new sets of power. Takumi demonstrated this using Wolf and Smartphone to create Smaphowolf form. No sign of when this cool-designed form would make an appearance in the show, because we somehow got the Lock bottle instead. - Another surprise arrived on the opposite side. If you think Gentoku was the Leader of Faust, then you might be mistaken. Another player called Juusaburou Nanba (played by Akira Hamada) entered the fray as Faust's bigwig investor whom Gentoku needed to report to. He even debuted in a fan-service scene that... easily humiliated our Night Rogue. If his last name rings a bell, that's because he's the Chairman of Nanba Heavy Industries... the place where Katsuragi and son used to work! This old man pretty much threatened Gentoku to persuade his father right away, or he would offer his aide to Seito or Hokuto instead. - Sento had a disagreement with Ryuuga (acting like a... married couple? LOL) about Takumi's work, so he ran off to find distraction by... going to work. Seriously? THIS is your reason to actually be in the office?! Two of his colleagues, Shingo Kuwata (played by Ryo Yoshida) and Eita Kawai (played by Tsukasa Honjou, who reminds me of VA Tomokazu Seki) turned out to be Takumi's fanboys. Hold on, why did the episode reveal their names? Important people? - On the other side of the equation, angry Ryuuga vented out by... having casual chit-chat with Misora. Goodness, what is wrong with these guys! Why not talk it out with each other? At least, Ryuuga did a better job, by dragging Misora out of the house to have some fun outing. Another costume cosplay joke aside, this sweet risky 'date' provided us with much needed depth for her. We got to learn more about her, and how she has been a poor victim all these time. 7 years of comatose since the Sky Wall Disaster?! You've got to be kidding me. No wonder she kept saying "Sleepy" and always looked tired. Misora never had a normal life, and she's stuck with that golden bracelet as well, the key item that purified Smash Essence! - As always, things were too perfect after all. Night Rogue attacked them, and tried to take back Misora. Once again, Stalk meddled and allowed Ryuuga to bring her to safety. WOW, WHO's really the higher up among these two then? Why did Gentoku keep on agreeing with Stalk, and not the other way around? - As suspected though, Gentoku was doing all this merely to save Touto. "I'll do whatever it takes to keep it away from the other countries", he vowed. To the point that he wants to do bad to his own father, by stealing the Pandora's Box to spark a war. And guess who would serve as his lackeys? That's right... Kuwata and Kawai. THAT's why these two extras got the privilege of having actual names. LOL. - Kuwata turned into a Smash. Sento utilized the Lion and Vacuum Full Bottles and become "The Maned Cyclone!", Lioncleaner form to deal with him. Nice color scheme, but so-so busy design. It was a quick fight, that ended with Kuwata revealing that he was merely a distraction to ensure Kawai's part. Before the poor nerdy guy obliterated himself, he also revealed that Takumi is still alive. Yep.... CALLED IT! - At the same time, a familiar female voice handed photographic intels on Build to old-man Nanba. Oh Sawa, you sneaky woman you! So the person she has been reporting to in the first episode, was none other than this creepy Chairman. Then again, this could end up becoming another massive red herring. Because if I didn't know any better, Sawa acting as a double agent or some kind is the most probable situation... - One last thing. Why the name 'Kiryuu Sento'? 'SEN' is the first kanji of 'SENSHA' that means 'Tank', while 'TO' is the kanji for the kana 'Usagi' that means 'Rabbit'. So he's... literally Rabbit Tank. LOL. Thanks to this convenient confirmation, I've updated the protagonist's name from 'Sentou' into the more accurate 'Sento'. Is it a coincidence that Sento sounds like 'Saint'? Probably not, knowing Sento's... almost Saint-like personality. What about 'Kiryuu'? That's just the name of the barber whom Souichi visited when he found amnesiac Sento. Oy oy...

Overall: Okay, I'm convinced. I've said that I would give this show a chance only up to episode 9, and it surprised me by giving not one, but TWO consecutive great episodes. This one managed to up the game even further, beating an earlier episode that was already impressive. A show is good if it can hide shocking secrets from the audience, and not just withholding them between characters (because that can get tired very fast). This episode proved just that by pushing us into a fun loop. I admit, this was an exposition-heavy episode, but the many reveals were all important. Takumi got actual personality now. Misora's high school date was truly a highlight that added so much depth to her character. All the ambiguity with Gentoku, who ironicallly has been pushed around by other people, also added depth to his questionable actions. And then there's Sawa... As I've said over and over again, this show is really good when it's serious and not trying to exaggerate itself too much with comedy. I'm also amazed how a science-themed Kamen Rider eventually evolves into a military themed one, complete with political intrigues and agendas. Definitely best episode so far! If there's one part I truly dislike, it's none other than the preview. From the looks of things, Blood Stalk IS exactly who I've been suspecting. Just like episode 6, TOEI LOVES to ruin a good surprise in advance, by revealing the obvious. This time, TWO WHOLE weeks earlier due to the break! Sad to say, that reduces the episode's overall score... a few points *sigh*. Next Episode: Shall we start a war...? PS: For the time being, I WILL be watching more episodes of Build. It still doesn't mean that I'm going to follow it to the end though, because if things get bad again, then I won't ever mind to abandon ship right away. Let's just say, I'm giving the show another chance to prove itself for the next 9 episodes. Will its Hazard Level increase enough to force me to stay, or will it goes the other way and goes 'kaboom'? We'll see... *grins*

Episode 08 Score: 8 out of 10 Episode 09 Score: 8,3 out of 10

All images are screencaptured from the series, provided by the FanSubber Over-Time. "Kamen Rider Build" is produced by TOEI, and airs every Sunday on TV-Asahi. Credits and copyrights belong to their respective owners.

#tokusatsu #kamen rider #kamen rider build #review

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