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musclesandhammering · 3 years

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Every Single Issue I Have With S*lki (It’s Not Just The Selfcest)

Here goes. I threatened to post this a few days ago and never did, but I just saw a s*lki stan Twitter account claim that Loki caring about Sylvie more than the whole multiverse was a Good And Romantic thing and it pushed me over the fucking edge, so now you all have to read this. I’ve divided it into categories cause there’s just THAT much.

OOC Bullshit

• First and foremost, no amount of mental gymnastics you do will ever make me believe that this specific Loki- the one that just invaded New York, that just came off a year of Thanos Torture, that just got done being influenced by the sceptre, that was literally in the middle of a crisis already, and then on top of that went through all the trauma of Ep 1- would even be worried about a romantic relationship. That would be the furthest thing from his mind. Go back and watch how he acted in Avengers- you think that guy would abandon his previous mission to become a snivelling simp for a girl he’d just met 3 days prior? Yeah, there’s no universe in which that makes sense.

• “It’s very in character for Loki to fall in love with himself lololol-“ NO, it’s literally not. Out of all the characters in the mcu, I don’t think I can think of anyone that genuinely hates themselves more than Loki. He even referred to all his other male variants as “monsters” and said meeting them was “a nightmare” in this series. He’s got so much self-loathing, plus the fact that he genuinely thinks himself to be an evil backstabbing scourge- so there’s no evidence at all suggesting that he would ever develop a fondness for, or even be inclined to trust, another version of himself, after only knowing them for 3 days.

• Building on that, the whole concept of Loki falling in love with a version of himself just feeds into the annoying ass misconception that he’s a narcissist. No matter which way you stack it, he’s not. If you’re referring to NPD, he doesn’t fit the criteria, and if you’re saying “narcissist” just as a slang term meaning “selfish and arrogant”, that still doesn’t accurately describe him. But when creators like Waldron and Herron do things like having him fall in love with himself, it makes it so much easier for casual viewers to think that he is.

Shitty LGBT Rep

• It’s kinda sus that Loki’s are allegedly genderfluid and yet the only female-presenting variant we see (and apparently the only female-presenting variant there is, cause the male Loki’s all seemed unfamiliar with the concept) is treated as some kind of mind-bogglingly special paradox. Also very sus that, out of all the Loki variants, the one our Loki falls in love with just so happens to be the only female one. What a coincidence.

• The fact that the creators of the show went around bragging about Loki’s bisexuality and Marvel purposefully (lbr) allowed stories about Loki possibly having a male love interest to circulate, specifically enticing queer viewers to watch the show (you know, the definition of queerbaiting), and then instead of having a male love interest (Loki was the first queer main character, so it was the perfect opportunity) they gave us *gestures to this dumpster fire* this… it’s just a middle finger to LGBT fans. The fact that they would rather have this relationship with all its myriad of problems than have a gay relationship is just……. Very telling.

• While him being with a woman obviously doesn’t refute his bisexuality, the fact that they showed/talked about him being interested in 3 different women (flight attendant, Sylvie, Sif) and never even hinted at him being attracted to a man, definitely makes it seem like they were trying to cover up his bisexuality to smooth things over with the more homophobic viewers. You know? It’s like “I know you’re pissed that we sorta confirmed Loki as bi, so we promise we’ll never mention it again! Or even hint at it! As a matter of fact, we’ll give him lots of female lovies and make him seem as straight as possible! That’ll take your mind off of that horrible crumb of queer rep, right? Please please please keep giving us your money!!!”

• Aside from all the other issues, at its core, the biggest reason why I think I’m so irritated with s*lki is that it took one of the most interesting, complex, and diverse characters in cinema atm and squished him into a tired ass unnecessary heteronormative subplot…. Like literally every. single. other. protagonist. ever. Loki is such a unique character, and it’s so so so incredibly disappointing that they stuck him into that same boring cookie cutter romance that happens to every other character in every other movie I’ve ever seen. It’s a disservice, and it’s honestly just not compelling or entertaining at all.

Thematic Issues Galore

• His arc didn’t need a romance. With anyone. It was unnecessary and it didn’t make sense plot-wise. In fact, one of the reasons he was my fav prior to this was because he was the only big-name mcu character whose story wasn’t muddied-up by a romance that didn’t need to be there. So much for that.

• He wasn’t emotionally ready for a romantic relationship with anyone. Hell, just a genuine friendship would’ve been pushing it for him at this point. He was in such a bad state that any relationship he got into would’ve been toxic and unhealthy for both him and the other person, and it doesn’t make sense why the writers would want to put him in one when there were so many cons and essentially no pros (other than “Uwu aren’t they cute together”).

• Sylvie’s character in general was unnecessary and Loki’s character was robbed just by her being there. The whole show became about her post-Ep 2. They spent most of the time giving her backstory, building her up, telling us how awesome she is, trying to convince us to like her, etc when what they really needed to be doing was building Loki up- cause I gotta say, if I had to describe TVA!Loki in a few words, they would be Flat, Boring, and Weak.

• The romance overtakes the plot. They spend time portraying their supposed connection that could’ve been spent adding depth and complexity to literally any of the characters. They make the big Nexus Event them giving each other googly eyes on Lamentis when it could’ve been so many other way more profound things that speak to the fundamental nature of Loki’s. They have the climax of the finale be “oh no she betrayed him to kill He Who Remains” when it could’ve been something way more compelling (Loki having a moral crisis over whether or not to kill HWR, Loki contemplating the state of the multiverse and weighing the pros and cons of freedom vs order, Loki looking into some What If situations and getting emotional about what could’ve been regarding his family, Loki realising the gravity of HWR’s offer and finally coming to terms with how important he is to the universal cycle, etc etc). The entire plot suffered in favour of a romance that half of us didn’t even want.

• It essentially reduced all of Loki’s potential character growth down to “He did it for his crush.” He seemed to at least have some motivations of his own in Ep 1-2 (feeble as they were) but after Sylvie showed up in Ep 3, literally every action he took was just him being a simp for her. Why did he lie in the interrogation? To try to protect Sylvie. Why did he fight the minutemen and Timekeepers? To survive kinda, but mostly cause it was important to Sylvie. Why did he get pruned? Cause he got distracted trying to confess his crush to Sylvie. Why did he try to get out of The Void? Cause he thought Sylvie needed him. Why did he stay in The Void? Cause Sylvie was staying. Why did he try to enchant Alioth? Cause Sylvie told him to. Why did the multiverse get cracked open, leading to an infinite number of Kangs waging war on all of existence? Cause Loki didn’t wanna hurt Sylvie in their fight at the Citadel and then get distracted by her kissing him. It’s uninteresting and honestly pretty embarrassing.

• Throughout their “relationship arc” the writers do their absolute damndest to convince us that we should like Sylvie more than Loki. And you know what? It’s the most hypocritical shit I’ve ever seen. They preach and preach about how Sylvie’s life has been so difficult/we should feel bad for her/she had it so bad/poor poor sylvie/she had it SO much worse than pampered prince Loki…. But then they never even touch on any of Loki’s trauma of hardships (the ones that have been ignored for literally 3 movies now). They frame Sylvie as a good person and a Freedom Fighter after she spent literal decades/centuries mass-murdering brainwashed TVA agents and showing exactly zero remorse for it….. but then they make it their mission to constantly remind us that Loki is a terrible person and constantly put him in situations where he’s forced to acknowledge his wrongdoings/show remorse/admit to how “evil” he is for being a mass murderer for like 2 years. They show him on-screen having a wider range of powers than her, and perpetuate his whole shtick of being a “master manipulator” or whatever….. But then they make Sylvie “the brawn” more competent, intelligent, and physically capable than him. Tell me how it’s a good thing for a ship to be so narratively biased toward one character.

Missed Opportunities

• If they absolutely had to have a romance subplot, then they could’ve paired Loki with one of the characters that have already been established OR one of the characters that were a big part of the whole TVA storyline anyway. It would’ve been so interesting if they’d revealed that Loki had a history with some of the players from previous films (Sif and Fandral both come to mind). It also would’ve been really interesting if they’d given Loki a love interest that actually had some allegiance to the TVA as a whole (Mobius maybe, but not necessarily. It also could’ve been Renslayer or B-15). Hell, imo it would’ve been cool if they’d followed through with that “See you again someday” line that he said to the flight attendant in Ep 1. ALL of these characters have way more chemistry with him than Sylvie, and they were also already relevant to the plot without wasting half the show to give background info on them.

• If they absolutely had to have a hetero-presenting love story involving an enchantress-type figure, then there’s a whole Enchantress (Amora) that was actually Loki’s love interest in the comics. Plus, fans have been screaming for Amora to appear in the mcu for years. Plus, Tom literally pitched an Amora/Loki storyline way back in 2012-13. Also, Lorelei (another enchantress) is also one of Loki’s love interests in the comics, and she already exists in the mcu (she was on Agents of SHIELD). There were several different established characters for them to choose from. Creating a whole knew amalgamation of a character and going with the “she’s a Loki variant” storyline was just completely unnecessary and made no sense.

• They completely robbed us of a Chaos Twins dynamic. Had they handled Sylvie better and not forced her and Loki to smooch, the two of them could’ve had a really really complex and interesting sibling relationship. Loki could’ve stepped into Thor’s shoes and sort of used that new role to gain some self importance, and Sylvie could’ve finally had somebody to look out for her/teach her magic/be there for her. It would’ve been very aesthetically pleasing, the vibes would’ve been out of this world, it would’ve been way more profound than this bs, and frankly it would’ve been much more entertaining to watch.

• Loki’s relationship (read: obsession) with Sylvie completely overshadows all Loki’s other relationships in the show. Loki and Mobius were literally the focal point of the series in Ep 1-2, but after Sylvie showed up in Ep 3, they barely had any interactions with each other, and Mobius pretty much faded to the background entirely. Loki had the beginnings of a pretty interesting antagonistic relationship with Renslayer (with her wanting him pruned, then arguing with Mobius that he couldn’t be trusted), but after Sylvie showed up the dynamic shifted to focus on the history between her and Ravonna. Loki and B-15 started off very badly and openly disliked each other throughout Ep 1-2, and then in the end of Ep 2, Loki showed a little bit of concern for her when she was possessed, hinting that they might be inching toward a reconciliation- especially considering how obvious it was that Loki was gonna uncover the TVA’s sins eventually. There was so much potential for him to be the one to give her her memories back and convince her to change sides, but no, of course that honor went to Sylvie. In fact, after Sylvie showed up, Loki and B-15 never even spoke to each other again.

Various S*lki Fails

• If they were trying to convince us that this affection was mutual, they completely failed. There’s nothing I’ve seen that even hints at Sylvie feeling the same way about Loki that he does about her. At most, I’d say she has a slight endearment to him. She finds him likeable and she’s grudgingly fond of him, but she definitely isn’t in love with the guy. Maybe she thinks he’s cute and hopes that he gets out of this mess alright, but her mission obviously comes before him- whereas, it’s been confirmed multiple times that Loki cares about her above anything else. She doesn’t trust him, she looks at him like he’s an incompetent fool half the time, she shows little to no reaction during most of his confession moments, and she kissed him as a means to distract him so that she could get him out of her way. Look, all I’m saying is, when you get into a relationship where one of you is way more invested than the other, it never ends well.

• This goes without saying for a lot of us, but the selfcest is just straight up odd and cringey. If you’re cool with that sort of thing, fine! People can ship what they want! But don’t pretend it’s not at least a little bit uncomfortable. Yes, I know they’re not technically siblings so it’s not technically incest, and they’re also not technically the exact same person, but they’re similar enough that it makes things weird. And yes I know selfcest can’t happen in real life, so there’s no way to judge it morally, but neither can most of the other stuff that happens in these shows/movies (the Snap, Loki destroying jotunheim, superhero with powers being held accountable, mind control) and yet we still find ways to judge their morality, because they all mirror real-world events. (The snap= genocide; Loki destroying Jotunheim= bombing other countries; superhero accountability= weapons accountability; mind control= grooming and coercion). And lbr the closest real-world mirror to two versions of the same person (who may or may not share DNA, family, backgrounds, physical and emotion characteristics) being romantically involved with one another is incest. And you can be ok with that if you want- that’s your prerogative- but don’t get pissy just cause a lot of us are squicked out by it.

• The whole mirror metaphor (learning self love via each other) thing just fell completely flat. First of all, having Loki learn to love himself by looking at someone who mirrors him did not, in any way shape or form, require them to be romantically involved. But they were. Of course. Secondly, the creators have contradicted themselves so many times on whether Loki and Sylvie are the same or not, that it doesn’t even really register to the viewer that the mirroring thing was what they were going for. Finally, Loki and Sylvie are shown to have so little in common- and to have only the most bare minimum of similarities personality-wise- that it doesn’t even make sense that Loki would “learn to love himself through loving her”. Like? They’re nothing alike. So how would he make the connection that he himself is actually pretty cool, based on her alone? There’s virtually nothing in her that reflects him.

• I know the objective of the entire show was to convince us of how awesome and unique Sylvie is, but honestly her relationship with Loki just did the opposite. A hallmark of a Mary Sue is having her constantly upstage the male lead, and then having him instantly fall madly in love with her anyway. And that’s.. exactly what happened here. Everything they’re doing to try to force her character to be more stan-able is really just forcing her to look more like their self-insert OC. Which is exactly what she is. It would’ve been so much more satisfying if she didn’t have to try so hard to look cool, if they didn’t have to try so hard to make her backstory tear-inducing, if they didn’t have to turn our protagonist into a snivelling simp just to prove how incredible she supposedly is. Very much #GirlBoss energy and we all know how performative and cheap that is.

• The entire thing was too rushed, there was too little build-up, and it was nowhere near believable. As stated above, it’s ridiculously unlikely that Loki would canonically even be interested in Sylvie, and this show did nothing to explain why he was. He just suddenly was. There was nothing they showed us as viewers that would justify a guy as closed-off and preoccupied as Loki falling head-over-heels for a girl he just met. Their was no explanation, no big revelation, no reasoning, it just… kinda happened. And I’m also severely skeptical of any love story that has the characters go in this deep after only 3 45-minute episodes of exposition.

I’m sure there’s other stuff, so if anyone thinks of anything, let me know and I’ll be more than happy to add it. Tagging @janetsnakehole02 @raifenlf @natures-marvel and @brightredsunset800 for expressing interest. This is all your faults.

#antisylki #loki meta #kinda #loki series critical #loki series negativity #anti loki x sylvie #anti loki series #anti sylvie #frosty bby #loki deserved better #I don’t even like TVA!Loki tho so I guess it doesn’t matter with him lmao #tva loki #loki laufeyson

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joontella · 3 years

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achromatic.

Yandere!Kim Namjoon x Female Reader

Word Count: 11.1k

Genre(s): Angst, Slight Fluff, (HORRIBLY WRITTEN) Smut

Trigger Warning(s): Mentions of religion or lack thereof, blood, murder, idk how the human body works, (unknown) consumption of blood, manipulation, stalking, male masturbation (again, horribly written), Namjoon is an asshole, and musical terms because i play music rip, minor character death, slight gore. it gets really shitty towards the end. i’m sorry

Merry Merry! It’s Peppermint! Your gift is finally here, @exhausted-joy! I’m sorry for the wait. I had to make sure that it was perfect. This is my first time doing this, and I really wanted to give it my all. Please forgive me, and thank you for putting up with my antics in the server. I hope you enjoy it!

I also want to thank Saniya (@smeraldos-blog), Mari (@joheun-saram), Hannah (@spicykoreantatertots), Ley (@pars-ley), Avery (@ksmuttherapy), and everyone else who tolerated and/or helped me out! I love you all and thank you so much for the help and support! I’m so happy to have met you all!

ach·ro·mat·ic /akrəˈmadik/

adjective

without color.

“Damn. There goes my chance of starting my winter break with a passing grade.” One woman groaned.

“What the hell are you talking about? You have a solid ‘C’! I’m literally failing everything!” Her friend responded, as her arms waved in a cartoonish rendition of exasperation. “And whose fault is that?” “Not mine! This semester was nothing but a months-long depressive episode. How could I focus with everything that’s going on?”

He so desperately wishes that they would shut up, or at the very least, take their obnoxiously loud conversation elsewhere. Namjoon twirled the ink pen in his hand with a practiced precision only years of being hunched over paperwork could provide. However, those were nothing but pipe dreams as the two students turned their attention over to him. “There’s Kim Namjoon! He’s had the top spot for years now, way before he was enrolled here.” One began babbling quite loudly whilst pointing to the man in question. “I bet he came out of the womb with high marks. I heard that he scored in the 99th percentile for his newborn screening tests.” The other swooned in response to her own musings.

Obviously, these two were much more idiotic than he had originally thought. It didn’t take an expert to read his body language: the way that he twirled his pen faster, as if that could speed up the agonizing conversation he was being forced to bear witness to; the way his jaw clenched so tightly that it could easily break a metal wire; and the position his shoulders held, resembling an animal coiling in preparation to strike or flee. He pleaded to gods he didn’t even believe in for the duo to be quickly eradicated with a swift strike of lightning. According to the calculations he made swiftly in his head, the chances of something like that happening were infinitesimally small. How unfortunate.

Deciding that the best course of action to take would be to leave the two neanderthals to their devices, Namjoon did just that. He quickly snapped his book shut with one hand and a loud, meaningful clap as the pages suddenly collided with each other. If that didn’t make the nuisances jump in surprise, his words would.

“Although I’m a source of inspiration and wonder to many, it’s degrading to hear someone so openly refer to me in a way that one would to an exotic zoo animal,” He began. Namjoon’s tone was cool and even, carrying an air of regality all the while retaining a bitter edge of contempt and disdain for both the conversation and the mere existence of the two original party members.

Finally, the two felt the brunt of the consequences their crimes on Namjoon’s ears had to offer. They both visibly wilted, reminding the tall man of his mother’s daisies being roasted and withering under the dry summer heat. Normally, this would have been more than enough to diffuse the situation and lift him of his auditory burden. However, his heart ached for more. His brain so desperately yearned for more stimulation and a rush of dopamine.

He decided to twist the knife, so to speak.

“Also, you too could rise to the top.” Namjoon said as he began to turn away.

Out of his peripheral vision, he could see the two wilted flowers gain new life and their faces brighten with newfound hope. The loudest of the two even had the audacity to whimper a pathetically optimistic, “Really?”

Twist. Twist. Twist!

“Of course~.” Namjoon purred, deciding to turn to face his victims’ satisfying demise. His heart threatened to beat in double time in anticipation.

Although their anxiously awaiting smiles made his stomach turn, he couldn’t deny the mirth swirling alongside the disgust in his belly.

“First off, instead of blaming your inadequacies solely on the tumultuous events of this year, take responsibility for your shortcomings. Only children avoid blaming themselves.”

He could hear the glass shattering as their faces fell in a tandem that most would find heartbreaking. He found it utterly amusing. Now, he would take his leave. After receiving the reaction he desired and more, Namjoon wanted nothing more than to leave the duo to stew in their humiliation. Yet, one last thing lingered. He had yet to land the finishing blow that would ensure that he wouldn’t be bothered by these two pieces of scum ever again.

Twist. Twist! TWIST!

“Before I forget, avoid talking so loudly. As you may or may not have noticed, I was trying to study. You know, one of the things that facilitates good grades? I don’t know if you’re aware of it, but your incessant bantering made it increasingly difficult to do so. Might I suggest that you follow my example and do the same? Maybe then, one day, you could take my place at the top.”

Namjoon wasn’t even facing them anymore. His back was to the two women, further solidifying his dismissal of them. With a simple and curt wave of his hand, he simply uttered,

“Ladies.”

And he was on his way.

“Exam results will be posted this afternoon. I trust that you all scored high enough marks to keep our university in high regard.” Your professor droned from the front of the lecture hall. “I know that many of you despise the fact that a standardized test is still administered in college, but so far, it is the only way to ensure that Mugunghwa National Academy is churning out bright students worthy enough to contribute to society!”

The students in question couldn’t care less about their scores or the school’s prestige. All they were worried about was getting the hell out of there after two hours of examination and stifling silence. They all stood from their seats and slung their bags across their bodies. A disgruntled murmur rang throughout. Quite frankly, you were no different.

As you hugged your notebook close to your body, your professor stopped you as you reached the lecture hall door.

“Ah, Miss (L/N). A word, please.”

Surprised, you let out a soft, “Sure.” and walked over to the podium where your professor started to neatly stack and organize his papers.

“As you know, Miss (L/N), you are one of the two best students we’ve had at this academy recently.”

You shifted your weight awkwardly at the sudden praise. You felt heat rise to your cheeks as you began to speak. “I mean, I guess? I wouldn’t go that far, but I suppose that records and the numbers do suggest that I’m performing quite well.” Your professor scowled at your response. You were a bright young woman. You deserved to flaunt it and soak up the praise every once in a while, right? He folded his arms and sighed deeply causing your brain to go into overdrive on how you could rectify the situation. “While pride does come short of a fall, you should learn to take compliments when they’re given, (Y/N). I promise you that you won’t become an egomaniac anytime soon as a result.” He said gently, causing your nerves to subside. Right. Maybe you should just accept compliments. A little self esteem boost never hurt anybody, right? “Thank you, professor, but may I ask why you’re telling me this?” You asked, trying to move the conversation along as politely as you could. You had an hour before you were due to go to the college’s radio station and prepare for this evening’s broadcast. Hopefully, your professor would get to the point so you could quickly grab a bite to eat before you started airing.

“Oh yes, of course! I’m sorry! I said all this to tell you that I have your exam results already. Seeing as how you are the brightest in your class, you finished early, giving me enough time to grade yours while your peers were working. I think that you’ll find the results to your liking, Miss (L/N).” He grinned, handing you a white manila envelope with the school’s insignia printed on the front.

You quirked a brow and opened it. You were then greeted by the name of the school, its motto, and yet another print of the school emblem on the header. Your (E/C) eyes scanned the page until you found what you were looking for:

𝑴𝒖𝒈𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒉𝒘𝒂 𝑵𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝑨𝒄𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒎𝒚 𝑨𝒑𝒕𝒊𝒕𝒖𝒅𝒆 𝑬𝒙𝒂𝒎

𝑵𝒂𝒎𝒆: (𝑳/𝑵), (𝒀/𝑵)

𝑴𝒂𝒋𝒐𝒓: 𝑱𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒎

𝑫𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝑬𝒙𝒂𝒎: 𝑵𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓 21

𝑺𝒄𝒐𝒓𝒆: 98/100

𝑪𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒔 𝑹𝒂𝒏𝒌:

1 𝒐𝒇 300

You stood there, dumbfounded. The paper you once held gingerly and timidly was wrinkling and threatening to tear under your now iron grip. You were now number one. Somehow, some way, you managed to best Kim Namjoon. Mugunghwa’s already carefully balanced and fragile ecosystem was crumbling around you. What have you done?

“I take it that you’re in shock. I’ll leave you alone to celebrate.” Your professor said smoothly as he slung his coat over his shoulder. “Congratulations, (Y/N). Please enjoy the rest of your day.”

“Uh huh… Will do…” You uttered dumbly.

Mugunghwa National Academy ran on strict rules, but most of them were unspoken. For the sake of your sanity and that of the rest of the student body (and let’s face it, staff, too), you intended to follow those sacred and silent rules to the letter.

Rule Number One: Don’t look in the janitor’s closet near the athletics facilities. You may not come out the same way as you came in.

Rule Number Two: If the cafeteria serves meatloaf, avoid it at all costs. Only eat it if you want to get sick and purposely miss class.

Rule Number Three: Kim Namjoon is the best at everything. He is to be number one until Hell freezes over.

Rule Number Four: In order to keep peace and balance between the nations, (Y/N) (L/N) must always come in second. This is the natural order of things.

You were content with being in second place. To be frank, you preferred to leave the pomp and circumstance of being the top dog to Namjoon. He was more equipped to bear the burden, after all. Besides, it wasn’t like your future career was depending on you being the best. You could skate by with a silver medal and leave Namjoon with the gold. You preferred the look of silver, anyway.

Now look at what you've done. There’s no doubt that the records have been updated by now. Your professor did grade yours early, and it’s reasonable to assume that Namjoon’s was as well. You’d inadvertently torn a hole in the gossamer fabric that was Mugunghwa National Academy. With one exam, you signed the collective death certificate of every other person besides Kim Namjoon himself.

May God have mercy on your wretched soul.

“Young Master, your father would like to have a word with you in his study.” The head butler of the Kim mansion stated simply.

For the second time that day, Namjoon clenched his jaw tightly. He shrugged off his coat and handed it to the older gentleman who was automatically waiting at his side to collect the article of clothing. He hadn’t even gotten through the door and already his father wanted to speak with him. This didn’t bode well.

“Seokjin, did he mention why he’d want to see me?” Namjoon asked dryly. Seokjin simply shook his head and hung his coat on the nearby rack.

“He only mentioned that it was urgent, so I suggest that it would be in your best interest to make it there expeditiously.”

This certainly did not bode well. Kim Joonho was a man of few words. Most would say that he’s the very definition of “actions speak louder than words”. Whenever the CEO of Kim Industries did something, people watched in equal parts starstruck awe and fear. However, when the CEO of Kim Industries deemed something important enough to speak on, there was no choice in the matter. You either listened intently or you perished in more ways than one. This was no different for Joonho’s family. In fact, he was worse to them. Working under the guise of caring for his family, Joonho was more stoic to his wife and children.

Regardless of his debatably righteous intentions, it sent the Kim family into delicately managed dysfunction. Simply put, Kim Joonho never spoke to Namjoon out of wishing to connect with his son on a more personal level. Namjoon was the next heir to Kim Industries. Being his son was an unfortunate side effect.

“Sir, I know that I did implore you to hurry, but-”

“What?” Namjoon growled. His nerves were shot to shit today. Anything that impeded his meeting with his father and his goal to quickly get it over with was met with hostility.

Seeming to understand this, Seokjin cleared his throat and motioned a gloved hand towards the mansion’s threshold.

“You know better than to walk in the house with your shoes still on,” The Kim butler began smoothly as he made his way over to Namjoon to collect his shoes. “I do understand that you are upset, but you shouldn’t let your emotions cloud your judgement so drastically that you forget such basic cultural conventions.”

Namjoon sighed sharply and bit back a retort that was bubbling in his throat. Arguing with Seokjin was pointless. As per usual, he was correct. Engaging in such petty conflicts would only worsen things.

“Right. I suppose I was quite hasty. Thank you.” Namjoon sighed whilst peeling off his shoes.

“I do believe that an apology is in order, Young Master.”

Namjoon was already halfway across the foyer, about to ascend the grand staircase leading to the upper floors when Seokjin’s cheeky remark reached his ears. He felt his blood begin to simmer in his veins and his muscles stiffen.

“The fact that I haven’t fired you by now and ruined any chances of you gaining any further employment should be enough of an apology. You’re treading on thin ice, Seokjin. Remember your place in this world.”

With that, he continued his journey to the final boss room within the Kim family mansion: his father’s study. The last he heard of Seokjin was a sly chuckle and the clicking of his polished leather shoes against the floor. Staff were not guests. Therefore, they were not allowed the privilege of removing their shoes. They were expendable. They needn’t get too comfortable.

Despite how much he detested it, Namjoon couldn’t deny that cold chill of anxiety that frosted his entire body. His father never wanted to talk to him. Ever. He could count on his hands the times that Joonho requested his presence. He could count on only one hand how many times Joonho requested his presence to celebrate his son’s successes. Their relationship was solely professional. There was no love to be found, no matter how hard you read between the lines. Even in as high of a position as Namjoon is in, he is still subservient to his father.

That’s the natural order of things.

“Come in, Namjoon.” Joonho’s voice rang from behind the large mahogany doors.

Almost cartoonishly, the hinges squeaked like Namjoon was uncovering the entrance to a haunted crypt. Namjoon decided long ago that was an eerily apt way of describing his father’s study.

Naturally, Namjoon obeyed his father and entered the room. Dead center, there sat Kim Joonho on his throne. Sitting with perfect posture behind the large oak desk, Joonho stared his son down with cold eyes filled with disdain. How Namjoon desperately wished he could gouge them out with his father’s prized letter opener.

“Don’t waste my time. Have a seat. I don’t have all day.” Joonho snapped.

“Of course. How are you today, father?”

The CEO’s eyes narrowed at his son’s inquiry. “Spare me the niceties, boy. Sit down. We have business to discuss.”

Before Namjoon could interject, Joonho was already reaching into a drawer and produced a white manila envelope. Upon closer inspection, one could see Mugunghwa National Academy’s insignia emblazoned on the front. Once Namjoon was properly seated, he reached out and grabbed the parcel.

“May I ask what this is?” “You may not. You have eyes, boy. Read it for yourself.”

The frigid chill of anxiety was soon being replaced with the molten heat of fury. Some tiny part of Namjoon’s mind was concerned that he would develop a fever at the sudden and constant shifts in his body temperature. That wouldn’t do. He couldn’t afford for his health to decline. That would be another thing for his father to berate him for.

“Of course. My apologies, father.” Namjoon whispered as he undid the envelope’s fastening. Once he did so, he pulled the paper out with an air of nonchalance. Surely, it must have been another letter from the school to congratulate him on some academic achievement he didn’t even realize existed. However, in his eyes and in the eyes of his father, it was the exact opposite.

𝑴𝒖𝒈𝒖𝒏𝒈𝒉𝒘𝒂 𝑵𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝑨𝒄𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒎𝒚 𝑨𝒑𝒕𝒊𝒕𝒖𝒅𝒆 𝑬𝒙𝒂𝒎

𝑵𝒂𝒎𝒆: 𝑲𝒊𝒎, 𝑵𝒂𝒎𝒋𝒐𝒐𝒏

𝑴𝒂𝒋𝒐𝒓: 𝑩𝒖𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔

𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒐𝒓(𝒔): 𝑩𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒈𝒚, 𝑬𝒏𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉

𝑫𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝑬𝒙𝒂𝒎: 𝑵𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒎𝒃𝒆𝒓 21

𝑺𝒄𝒐𝒓𝒆: 96/100

𝑪𝒍𝒂𝒔𝒔 𝑹𝒂𝒏𝒌: 2 𝒐𝒇 300

For the first time in a long time, Kim Namjoon’s world fell apart before his very eyes. Suddenly the sturdy and imposing columns holding up the large study appeared to crumble around him. The fire that crackled in the fireplace was reduced to nothing but pathetic cinders. He felt the ground split beneath his feet and his father… His father grew to a monstrous size in comparison to his surroundings, suddenly hunched over his son in preparation to strike.

“This must be some mistake! The results must have gotten mixed up! I-”

“Enough!” Joonho boomed. He swiftly slammed his hand down on his desk, successfully frightening his son into silence. “Only children avoid blaming themselves. I thought I taught you to accept responsibility! How dare you blame your inadequacies on the people who made them apparent?!”

Namjoon clenched his fists tightly in his lap and pushed down the urge to go through on his original plan of plucking his father’s eyeballs out.

“Can’t you see? Whoever graded my exam was clearly incompetent. If they had a brain stem, they would know that I am only capable of producing top-class work! Just like you should not be blamed for one measly employee’s mistake, I should not be blamed for the mistake of someone beneath me!” Namjoon exclaimed. Once he finished his spiel, he found himself standing up, but he didn’t remember willing his muscles to do so.

“This entire conversation is pointless. It’s inefficient at best and mind-numbing at its worst! For someone who values time and money more than his own family, I find it quite curious that you’re willing to waste both so frivolously.”

Now, it was Joonho’s turn to clench his jaw and his fists. Despite the utter disdain he felt for the situation, the patriarch had to admit the merit in his son’s retort. His pride would never let him express the sliver of admiration that stirred within him at Namjoon’s courageous display.

Nobody dared talk back to Kim Joonho. That was the natural order of things.

“Regardless of who’s truly at fault, find this (Y/N) (L/N). She usurped your throne, Namjoon. She deserves to be punished for her transgression.”

“Of course. She’s public enemy number one, but she won’t be number one ever again.”

With that, the young master of the Kim household turned his back on the old master and shut the door to the crypt behind him.

“Aaaaaand now, we’re back after our break!” Your co-host chirped from beside you.

The red on-air sign glowed warmly overhead, creating a sense of coziness and heat in the otherwise cold station. You wrapped your cardigan closer around you before adjusting your mic.

“And we’re about to go into our winter break soon. How fitting!” You posited, trying to match your co-host’s energy.

“That’s right! Mugunghwa exams are finally over, and the scores and ranks have already been updated for some! Care to talk about that, (Y/N)?” Taehyung, your co-host, wiggled his sharp eyebrows in his quest to prod for information.

Normally, his rectangular grin and bright eyes would warm your heart. Today, however, you wanted to punch that devilish smirk right off of him. You should have known that Tae would have suddenly caught wind of your latest academic achievement. He’s the university’s most involved (read: nosiest) student.

“Not really… But you won’t shut up until I do, so…” You sighed as you spun around in your swivel chair. Once you stopped your cycle, you scooted closer to the microphone and cleared your throat. “I got a 98 on the exam. My professor stopped me after class and told me the news.”

Not that anyone but you and the sound director, Yoongi, would see it, but Taehyung’s impish smile turned into a disappointed pout. “Ah, listen to our (Y/N). Always dodging the important questions. Such a tease!”

You shoved him gently and laughed at his comment before shaking your head. “This guy… To everyone who dreams of dating him, work with him first. You’ll see how much of a horrible person he is.”

“Yah! That’s slander! Aren’t journalists supposed to avoid that?”

“I’ll kick your ass.” You licked your lips and began to answer the original question in further detail. “Yeah, so… Anyway, I got a 98 and I guess that warranted me becoming number one…?”

Both Taehyung and Yoongi’s faces dropped. From his booth, you could see Yoongi grimace and in your peripheral, you saw Tae stiffen.

“Up next is Still With You by our resident golden boy Jeon Jungkook. We’ll be back soon. Stay tuned.”

Suddenly, the on-air sign was turned off. The song began to play and Taehyung immediately gripped your shoulders.

“You what?!” Taehyung nearly screeched. “(Y/N), do you have any idea what this means?!” “That I took Kim Namjoon’s place and sent the fragile society of Mugunghwa into ruin? Yeah, I do.” Tae blinked for a moment. “No… Although, that does make sense. That seems way more important than what I was gonna say. Huh.”

You were actually going to punch the shit out of him. “Dude, what?”

“Listen, this is your chance! You can finally get recognized as the top-tier person that you are! As long as you were under Kim’s big, goofy shadow, you were going to be pushed aside! Now you can show everyone here how cool you are!”

You felt your throat tighten. That all-too-familiar sensation of a goose egg being lodged in your esophagus rose. You were going to cry. How you desperately wished that you could view the world like Taehyung did. How you longed to see the silver lining of every situation just like he did. All you saw was destruction and despair. All you felt was guilt for damning the entire student body to some cruel fate that only Kim Namjoon could dish out.

“Tae, I love you, but you don’t fucking get it! I’m screwed! We’re all screwed! I broke two of the sacred rules of this school! Kim Namjoon must always be first! I must always be second! I just sentenced everyone to death!”

Taehyung raised a brow, as if what you were saying were the incoherent ramblings of a mad woman. “You describe my cousin like he’s some heinous demon.” Even the usually passive Yoongi had to straighten his spine and widen his eyes at this revelation.

“He’s your cousin?!”

Tae leaned back in his seat with yet another smirk. This time, you couldn’t put a finger on the emotion this specific lift of his lips held. “Isn’t the resemblance obvious? The Kim line has some strong genes. It’s been that way since the Joseon era, I’ve been told.”

Ignoring the historical implications for why such strong genes would still be present thousands of years later (assuming that Taehyung was actually serious), you hurried the conversation along. Jungkook’s silky voice had faded away a while ago, leaving the two of you with little to no time left before it was time to open the floor to callers. This was your last chance to get some useful information about Namjoon before you were dragged into what you knew was going to be a relentless storm of phone calls and incredulous screeches at the news.

Like you had said before, you’d damned everyone. Who wouldn’t want to yell at the person that had the audacity to send an entire population into ruin?

“Get to the point, Taehyung. You’re telling me that you’re related to Satan himself? And I’ve been your co-host for how long?!” You near screeched.

Tae’s ambiguous smirk was now replaced with a blank expression. “I didn’t think it mattered, (Y/N). Why does it even matter now? If there’s a bigger issue here, I think you’re dodging it.”

You froze. He was right. For as long as you knew him, Taehyung had this uncanny ability to pick people apart and leave them vulnerable in an instant. This was especially effective on you, you’ve come to realize. The funny thing was that you hadn’t realized that you were employing tactics to postpone the inevitable inundation of accusatory and furious phone calls being thrown your way. Deep down, you always hated confrontation. Until Taehyung uttered those words, you hadn’t realized how deep that hatred and aversion was ingrained.

“Damn. You’re...good… I guess I am avoiding things. Let’s just get this over with. If we hold it off any longer, things will get worse.” You muttered as you looked towards Yoongi’s booth, motioning for him to put you both back on air.

Taehyung placed a comforting hand on your shoulder and flashed his signature boxy smile. “You don’t even know what they’re going to say. Who knows? News of your latest accomplishment may have brought the (Y/N) (L/N) Official Fanclub out of hiding. I bet that there are going to be several callers professing their undying love for you!”

“Their what now?” You asked dumbly.

Taehyung placed a hand on his heart and slipped into a persona reminiscent of the male protagonist of one the many romance dramas that were plastered on television nowadays. His deep voice rumbled the soundproof padding on the walls and wrapped you in its velvety embrace.

“(Y/N), I’ve been in love with you for as long as I can remember. I’ve struggled with these emotions for so long, but news of your success has given me the courage to confess them. I can’t quite make heads or tails of them, but I want to explore them all with you…” Not that anyone but you and Yoongi could see the exchange, but Taehyung gently cupped your chin with his large hand and looked longingly into your eyes. “That is, if you’d let me.”

Silence. Then raucous laughter from you and Taehyung. (Yoongi was visibly cringing in his booth.) You expected nothing less from the theater major, but you couldn’t help the delicate fluttering that began in your stomach. Was this the fabled Taehyung Effect at work? The two of you turned to your microphones and opened the floor to callers, as per usual for this segment of your show. What was highly unusual, however, was the heartfelt “confession” that was unwittingly broadcasted to everyone tuned in. Unbeknownst to everyone, the red on-air sign shone above your heads, serving as a beacon or perhaps an unfortunately ignored warning. A warning that your lighthearted joke wasn’t going to be a joke to some.

A warning that the harbinger of doom himself was listening in… A warning that he had now collected leverage over his new enemy… A warning that he was going to destroy you, even if he had to use his own relative to do it. He would surely add this to his rapidly growing arsenal of schemes.

The next day, the very air at Mugunghwa was different. Somehow, despite being the enigmatic second-place student, everyone instinctively knew to distance themselves from you. Biologically speaking, humans were still animals, despite the staunch separation that was created over time. There was still a basal instinct to survive. In this case, that instinct screamed, “Get away from the brainlet that dared to tip the scales and anger Kim Namjoon.” You didn’t blame anyone for their decision. You couldn’t. You’d be the world’s biggest hypocrite if you did, and you didn’t want “hypocrite” to be engraved on your tombstone next to “cold-blooded killer”.

Everywhere you walked, people watched you intently with eyes filled with either fear, confusion, or disgust. You could hear thinly-veiled whispers as you passed your fellow students.

“There she is.”

“She’s surprisingly pretty. I expected some ugly broad to be under Namjoon’s shadow.”

Ah, yes. You had forgotten your previously fairly secretive life before the shoe dropped. You were content with living under the radar. After all, it kept the vicious rumors of the poor girl who by hook or crook got her way into an elite university on a full-ride scholarship at bay. As long as you held the number two spot, nobody cared about you. News of your arrival and subsequent theories surrounding it were just a fad that most people shortly moved on from. The drastic and sudden change from peaceful irrelevance to hostile notoriety made you nauseous.

The cold air nipped at your flesh while you made your way to the library. Fresh snow made its satisfying crunching sound as you sped towards your destination. Wait. Sped? Only when you looked down at your feet did you realize that your steps were quicker than usual. Needless to say, you were confused at this revelation. Were things really this bad? Why was your body subconsciously hurrying you along when no danger was immediately present? Then, it hit you: If the Kim Taehyung Effect caused your insides to flutter and your heart melt with glee, the Kim Namjoon Effect caused everyone to cower and hide in pure horror. Maybe it ran in the family. After all, the two were related. How that crucial detail managed to slip past you was beyond human understanding.

Soon enough, you made your way into the campus library. Warmth enveloped you and thawed your chilled skin with each step into the large building. The tall bookshelves that towered over you and the other patrons made you feel safe. The walls of knowledge served as barriers from the predatory glares that were shot your way anywhere else. Here, while not entirely forbidden, hushed insults and remarks were more so. The library was your sanctuary when the dormitories weren’t, and with all the girls and even your RA avoiding you like the plague, it was safe to say that your dorm wasn’t very inviting right now.

Whatever it took, you needed to get your mind off of the Namjoon business. Sitting down in the warm silence served to do just that. You absentmindedly wandered through the various sections of the building. The nutty scent of someone’s morning brew filled your nostrils on your journey, easily putting you at ease in an instant. The rhythmic click-clack of someone's fingers against a computer keyboard kept your body grounded to the Earth. It served as a nice tether and protection from your thoughts that threatened to whisk you away into the stratosphere with every step you took.

Your feet took you past the reference section, the nonfiction section, and even the genealogy section before making its final stop at the fiction section. When you first started college, you found it odd that a library carried such books, but you soon came to realize that an escape into another world was appreciated by everyone. A love for fiction did not have an age limit.

You found yourself engrossed in a high fantasy novel by one Bang Sihyuk. (A very talented author, you decided. You made a note to look into some of his other works when you weren’t staring death in the face.) The sweet sound of yet another page turning and revealing more of the lore slowed your racing heart. The subtle smell of ink and glue softened your muscles, willing them to relax into the plush chair. The floor lamp next to you glowed softly and turned the usually stark clash of pitch black lettering against white pages into a mellow brown against cream parchment.

Even if you knew you had to face the wolves outside your sanctuary eventually, you still savored the solace you had in that moment. What you never considered was that those halcyon days were going to soon fall into utter ruin and despair with a singular human-shaped silhouette.

Everywhere Namjoon went, eyes followed. The air around him crackled with apprehension, but he couldn’t care less if he tried. This was natural. The pitiful prey animals around scrambled away for dear life, functioning solely on the fleeting notion that sticking around would spell their demise. Most of the people here were college students beginning their prime. They couldn’t afford to wither away… Not yet, at least… And certainly not here.

Stifled gasps laced with fear and admiration threatened to strangle the poor Kim heir. How he so desperately wished that they would all shut up! The constant buzzing murmur felt like mosquitoes tiptoeing across his skin during the hot and balmy summer months. It was highly annoying, to say the least.

His piercing mocha eyes landed on a target. A mousy figure was dwarfed by Namjoon’s taller and muscular frame. Pair the size difference with his steely and—arguably murderous—gaze fixed on the piteous male before him, both parties were surprised that the smaller student didn’t go into cardiac arrest.

“I would stay to chat, but I have important business to attend to,” Namjoon began. The timbre of his voice seeped into the small man’s bones and rattled them with each syllable. “You obviously know something, or else you wouldn’t be so pathetically fearful.”

The other male gulped audibly. His dull brown eyes stared into Namjoon’s vibrant cocoa ones. His pupils contracted as a cold sweat formed on his forehead and neck. Deep down, he knew that one wrong move would send him spiraling into horrors unimaginable. This was Kim Namjoon he was dealing with. He only had one chance.

“I don’t know w-what you’re talking about…” He squeaked.

Namjoon narrowed his eyes with clear annoyance and disgust for the situation and the animal shivering before him. This caused the mousy man to gasp sharply.

“Tell me where (Y/N) (L/N) is. It’s a simple request. Even someone of your calibre should be capable of such a mundane task.” Namjoon stated simply. Disdain bled through his words into his tone and seeped into his prey’s already paper-thin psyche.

With a trembling arm, the rodent (as Namjoon decided to call him) pointed in the direction of the campus library. Of course you would be there. It made his blood boil to think that you’d already be in the library after receiving news of your latest feat. Anyone else would be a fool to risk losing such an honor. Studying was the only way to cement your new station as Mugunghwa’s new number one.

Without so much as a half-assed utter of thanks, Namjoon strode off in the direction of the large building. He was so hyper-focused on cutting you down and ensuring that you wouldn’t be a problem again that the signature thud of a body against snow missed his attention completely. The concerned and shocked gasps of onlookers didn’t affect him either.

Soon enough, he was at his destination. The same book-filled shelves and walls that greeted you greeted him at the entrance. Upon seeing his figure, the librarian at the circulation desk straightened in order to greet Namjoon properly. ‘At least one person here knew their place.’ He thought to himself.

“I’m looking for (Y/N) (L/N). It’d be in your best interest to point me in her direction as quickly as possible, Jimin.” Namjoon stated coolly with a tinge of nonchalance. Although he was painfully aware of the importance his little scouting mission served, his seemingly apathetic tone was the result of having said the same thing over and over like a broken record. The sooner he found you and got you to bend the knee, the sooner he could return home to his own studies.

The librarian, Jimin, nodded and swiftly pointed towards the fiction section. His mug of hazelnut coffee threatened to spill at the sudden and crisp motion. “She went that way, towards the fiction books.” He stated plainly. Namjoon couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto his features. Jimin was always such an attentive servant.

Ever since that little incident before Mugunghwa’s annual recital, the dance major felt a deep sense of allegiance towards the older male. He had to. Namjoon was the only reason Park Jimin was able to continue his dream of becoming a world-class dancer, and it was made abundantly clear that what Kim Namjoon giveth, he can just as easily taketh away. Poor Jimin had no idea why you were being sought out by the most powerful student at the university, but he couldn’t help but suppress the gnawing sensation that he was leading you to a painful end.

Once again, forgoing a thank you, Namjoon began the final stretch of his arduous journey to find you and finally set things right in the world. The only issue was that he had no idea who he was looking for, exactly.

Oddly enough, despite your status, you had managed to keep a low profile. Very few people actually knew what you looked like. Hell, your student profile didn’t even have an image of you posted. In fact, the only way people outside of your direct circle of cohorts started to gather what you looked like was because the web connecting (Y/N) (L/N), radio show host and journalism major and (Y/N) (L/N), former number two was finally starting to weave itself. As far as most of the student body was concerned, you were nothing but a faceless placeholder image against a drab gray background. It wouldn’t have surprised Namjoon if you actually walked around with the words, “NO IMAGE AVAILABLE” permanently marked on your body. What he saw, however, was beyond his own comprehension.

There you were, his enemy, his prey. You sat idly in the large cushioned chair with your book nestled delicately in your hands. For the moment, you were blissfully unaware of the danger that loomed nearby. This was almost too easy. Almost as if your presence unlocked a vault to all his plans to destroy you, you looked at him.

And then his world changed. He almost felt sick at the sudden rush of sensory input his brain was forced to parse through. The previously unsaturated hall roared to life with colors he hadn’t even seen before. Warm browns, reds, and hues of every other name shot into Namjoon’s retinas upon gazing at your graceful form. This was (Y/N) (L/N)? This hidden gem? He was meant to demolish this?

He couldn’t. He shouldn’t. He wouldn’t. For the first time in a long time, Kim Namjoon was rendered speechless. His heart began to beat in double-time. If his biological functions were a musical piece, this specific section’s tempo marking would be prestissimo. Beyond vivace, beyond presto.

He couldn’t take it, so for the first time ever, Kim Namjoon ran away.

You didn’t dare move. Fear wrapped its spindly fingers around your heart and clutched it in its icy grasp. You didn’t have to move your eyes off of the page to see who the shadow cast onto it belonged to. Deep down, you knew.

Goddamn it.

You just knew.

Just when you gathered the courage to face your doom head on, he was gone.

“What the fuck…?” You whispered. Your fantasy novel fell to the ground on its spine with a soft thud. Was this it? Were you officially losing it? Was stress causing you to hallucinate and see literal shadow people?! That was it.

Not wanting to have a literal breakdown in the middle of the library, you honed your senses in on the now cold-smelling coffee nearby. The faint hazelnut blend managed to at least tether you down to reality once more. You took a deep breath. Everything was now in focus. You had to leave, you decided. So that’s what you did.

If the library’s other patrons noticed the shocked, glazed over look in your eyes, nobody said anything. You had just come in contact with the menace. You were lucky to be alive. There’s no need to add insult to injury by inquiring about your current situation. Wordlessly, you ambled out of the library door. Jimin’s small eyes followed your every movement until you were finally out of his line of sight.

Soon enough, you made it to your dorm room. Oddly enough, it felt like you’d walked through a wormhole and warped to the private space. It appears that moving effortlessly through time and space was an eerily common theme that day. Not wishing to dwell on it any further, you plummeted onto your bed and let a dreamless sleep whisk you away from all your troubles.

A month had passed since your clandestine encounter with Namjoon. Surprisingly enough, after the first week or so of living in terror, the foreboding feeling of doom had all but disappeared. Like a colony of ants rebuilding their anthill after a sudden rainstorm, so too did Mugunghwa National Academy rebuild anew. As Thanksgiving rolled into Christmas, the student body had learned to accept that you were now at the top of the food chain. The status quo had shifted in your favor. Students that would previously mutter curses after you passed by would suddenly wave amicably once they noticed your presence.

While the sudden lack of hostility was appreciated, you couldn’t help but notice how shallow the whole situation was. A faint sense of disgust settled at the pit of your stomach. Or was it foreboding, after all? After your encounter with Namjoon’s shadow at the library, the Kim Industries heir had disappeared suddenly. He had disappeared without a trace. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. His scores were still updated regularly; his name was still in the mouths of every man, woman, and child that walked across campus; and you swore that you saw his tall figure slither like a snake behind buildings and shrubbery one time after class. While there was solid proof that he still (at the very least) resided within this plane of existence, Kim Namjoon had achieved cryptid status. Just a month ago, he was the dark overlord that ruled Mugunghwa with an iron fist. Now, he was merely a relic of the past, a name synonymous with the Boogeyman. Kim Namjoon was now used to scare freshmen like tales of a monster under one’s bed were used to frighten young children.

The truth, like all things are, was much more complicated than that. After he met you, his goddess, at the library, Namjoon spiraled out of control. Nothing was the same for him. At first, it was a fleeting rush of endorphins, he had decided. Perhaps the sense of victory he felt after finding his long lost rival caused his brain to go into overdrive with glee. With that in mind, he returned home to lick his wounds and rewrite his battle plans.

The next day, everything seemed normal enough. His world was in grayscale once more. Individuals who weren’t of direct importance to him retained their distorted, blob-like features. His senses were mostly dulled once again… Until you appeared. You walked across campus with grace that put the supermodels that his father regularly “worked with” to shame. To be honest, they looked like pitiful crows with snapped legs when put up against your stork-like elegance.

His previously unsaturated world regained its color. His heart rate increased, warmth filled his veins as a result. Everything was crisply in focus when it came to you. For the first time in a long time, Kim Namjoon was terrified… But that’s what intrigued him all the more. Once you left his sight, however, the blooming colors vanished. Everything was blurred again. The warmth had died and left him empty, hollow, and cold. After a few days of this occurrence, Namjoon made his biggest realization yet: he was in love with you.

He was quick to write it off as pure lust. After all, remaining at the top didn’t leave much time for him to indulge in more carnal pleasures. Hell, the only thing he could remember slamming on a table on doing all night long was homework, as old and pathetic as the joke was. Namjoon was a dashing, intelligent young man beginning to reach his prime. Abstaining from such a primal and basic need wasn’t good for him. With that in mind, he immediately began his conquest.

First, it started with the models his father would fuck behind his mother’s back. Despite how carefully manufactured their appearances were, they didn’t quench his thirst. In fact, they enraged Namjoon to the point where it wasn’t uncommon for the women to leave his bedroom bruised the next morning. This charade went on for much too long until he’d had enough.

No other woman could set his heart aflame without even trying. No other woman could bring life to his distorted and achromatic world like you could. So he tried a man. Several men, in fact. He got so desperate that not even his little Park Jimin was safe from his ravenous clutches.

Nothing. Nothing had worked.

Now, as the clock struck midnight in his grand bedroom, Namjoon sat in his bed with his hand wrapped around his cock. He’d been so on edge for the longest time, yet nothing he did could stir him. So, he did the only thing he knew how… Thoughts of you filled his mind as he ghosted a finger across his limp member. The warmth he felt was returning once more…

“Namjoon! There you are! I’ve been so lonely… Don’t you know that I’ve missed you?”

There you were in the Kim manor’s living room. A black silk robe hugged your form perfectly as you bounded over to him. Golden sunlight filtered through the curtains and cast you in its heavenly warm glow. Your (E/C) eyes peered up at him with such admiration, lust, and most importantly, love. Before he could even properly process the scene, you had him enveloped in the warmest hug imaginable.

Namjoon felt a rush of lust and blood shoot straight to his dick.

“I know, darling… But I’m here now. We can be together. I’m all yours from now on.” He replied smoothly.

Namjoon didn’t even think it possible for your eyes to shine any brighter, but they did. And they were all for him. Your eyes, your beautiful eyes, for his eyes only… He gently caressed your cheek, careful not to mark it. The time for leaving marks and bruises would come later on…

“Really?” You asked. Your entire face lit with hope and wonder. “You mean it? Please don’t tease me, baby~. I don’t know what I’d do if you had to go so soon…”

You buried yourself into him, as if you knew that your home was within his embrace. He relished in it. He really did…

Namjoon felt feverish. His hands got to work immediately. Visions of you nestled against him, starlit eyes gazing into his, your form undulating beneath him as he pounded into you with everything he had. Your ecstatic moans and gasps filled his ears and mind, creating a carnal symphony only you could compose.

Sweat beaded on his temples, his arms beginning to burn with exhaustion as they continued to bring him to completion. Musical, “I love you, Namjoon”s and “Please! I’m so close, baby! Fuck me!”s began to crescendo rapidly. The world around him went from a gentle warmth to a blazing inferno. Colors reached their maximum saturation. Namjoon’s heart began to beat erratically. This was it. This was it! This is what he needed!

“Yes, (Y/N). You’re so good to me! Take it! Take it!!”

With an animalistic roar, Namjoon shot his seed. It coated his body and even his blanket that he pushed aside in his lustful fever. The fireworks came to a close. His jagged breaths began to even themselves out. The angels stopped singing. He was alone once more… But he wouldn’t be for long.

Tears filled Namjoon’s vision as he looked at his clock. Time wasn’t important anymore… But you were. He was going to have you, and he was going to become number one again. Kim Namjoon was going to be your number one.

Just like that, the year of terror had come and gone. Now, a new year was upon you and another December along with it. You stared up at your dorm room’s ceiling with a dumb smile etched on your face. After all, that was the only expression you could possibly muster, given the circumstances.

“Damn… What the hell happened to me?” Was all you managed to say as you turned onto your side. Your phone in hand, you scrolled through your photo gallery almost absentmindedly until you reached one particular photo. There you were at a carnival with the Devil incarnate, Kim Namjoon. Your eyes bright with glee at the large plush you held in one arm as you posed with Namjoon for a selfie.

You chuckled and zoomed in on the image with a wistful smirk. While you stared ahead at the camera, Namjoon stared at you with an expression that you didn’t even know that he possessed: pure, unadulterated admiration. You were almost inclined to call it love.

The past year and some change was a whirlwind. Your earliest memory of it consisted of finally coming to terms with the ecosystem at Mugunghwa, only to be faced with Namjoon and your whole world coming down. Students and staff alike scurried away from the dining area, not wanting to be a witness to a crime. You had gained new friends over the course of these months. They simply couldn’t stand to see your last moments on this earth in complete agony.

However, your death never came. Namjoon stood proudly in the now empty cafeteria, as if he relished in the fact that he could clear a room without uttering a single word.

“(Y/N) (L/N). It’s so good to finally put a name to a face… And what a lovely face it is…”

If Namjoon wasn’t going to kill you, the water lodged in your windpipe at his words would. You sputtered, hands waving as you choked on your water. Suddenly, Namjoon came behind you and swiftly patted your back. Once you could breathe again, you wiped at your tear-filled eyes and peered up at him. “I’m sorry… What?”

Namjoon returned to his original position in front of you with a smirk. Pulling out a chair, he sat down with the practiced air of a businessman about to make a deal. “I called you beautiful. I do hope that wasn’t too forward.”

Now, you were suspicious. Satan himself had saved you from choking and was now calling you attractive? Were you dead? Did you imagine Namjoon helping you as a last-ditch effort to survive somehow? Was that the image your brain created as you slipped away into the world of the dead? But this was reality. Something deep down told you that you weren’t dying or dreaming.

“Forgive my skepticism, but I highly doubt that you came to exchange compliments. What do you want, Kim Namjoon?” You asked icily. The male in front of you visibly recoiled at your tone, as if he didn’t factor in the possibility that you could speak with such a tone. He quickly recovered, however, and he began his pitch.

“You’re half right, (Y/N). I didn’t come here to only compliment you, but I came here to have a discussion that is long overdue. At my core, I am a businessman. I make deals, I negotiate. That’s what I’m here to do.” Namjoon stated simply. Looking deeply into his eyes, he didn’t show any signs of insincerity, but that’s to be expected. He’s been trained his entire life to hiding his true intentions behind an amicable facade, regardless of how nefarious his plans may or may not be.

“I see… What is it that you wish to discuss? I’m afraid that I’m not as well-versed in business etiquette as you, so please forgive me for any mistakes or slip-ups that I may make. That being said, this is not an invitation to walk all over me. I may be inexperienced, but I am by no means an idiot.”

Could you be any more perfect for him? A beautiful face and body, poise and grace, and the courage to hold her own in a negotiation? Not to mention, the colors were swirling around you and blooming delicately in such a comforting fashion. He was absolutely smitten.

“I wouldn’t dare make the mistake of calling someone who replaced me as top dog an idiot. Give me some credit. I’m not as vile as the university’s tall tales make me out to be. I’m sure that my cousin, Taehyung, could vouch for me.”

You bristled at the mention of Taehyung. What had he done to him? Did something happen? No, that couldn’t be. You had just finished your show with Tae only a half hour ago. Surely, that isn’t enough time for him to get into any trouble, right?

“Calm down, (Y/N). Nothing’s happened to him. I can see the wheels turning in your head. My cousin is safe and sound. I can even call him up for you, if you don’t believe me.” Namjoon said smoothly, already fishing his phone out of his designer coat’s pocket.

“No, that’s fine…” You swallowed and regained your composure. Once you were calmed down, you returned Namjoon’s gaze. “I’m sure he’s alright. If anything, I’ll call him later. Right now, this is more important.”

Namjoon put his phone away and leaned back in his chair whilst giving a dismissive wave of his hand. Hopefully, the display of nonchalance would mask the sheer excitement and feverish nervousness he felt from being so close to you. Hearing your voice was like hearing the soothing melodies of birdsong in the morning. His heart soared at the mere act of being in your presence.

“Very well. I came here to apologize. You see, I’m well aware of the distress to you and everyone here at Mugunghwa that I’ve caused, and for that, I’m sorry.”

You could have died right there. Kim Namjoon? Apologizing? And apologizing to you, no less?! The infamous heir to Kim Industries, known for the downfall of any and everyone who dared impede his goals was apologizing to you?!

“Please, (Y/N). Forgive me. It’s just that losing to you has put my life into perspective. Yes, I was the head of our class, but what did that mean? Why was I fighting so hard to keep a title that in the long run, means so little? What was the point if I had no one to share it with?”

“What the hell are you getting at, Kim? I fail to see what this has to do with conducting business.”

As precious as you were to him, Namjoon despised your tone. If you were to be his, that sharp tongue would have to be dealt with. Besides, in that instant, you reminded him of his lowlife father. That certainly wouldn’t do. His queen should never adopt the mannerisms of Kim Joonho. Never. Ever. You were to whisper sweet nothings into his ear while he reciprocated. You were to never take such a tone with him ever again.

“I was rambling, so I’ll forgive that insolent remark of yours just this once. Make sure it doesn’t happen again.” Namjoon stated darkly.

Not wanting to push your luck, you relented. You were actually talking to Kim Namjoon. You couldn’t afford to ruin an opportunity like this.

“Right.” He resumed “The truth is that I’ve been watching you for quite some time. Honestly, that’s all I can ever do anymore. You’ve occupied every inch of my mind, and I just wanted to ask if you’d be mine, (Y/N).”

You sat there, slack-jawed. Was he serious?! What was happening?

“You’re joking… There’s no way that you could be serious. There’s no fucking way!”

“I am. I’ve done some soul-searching recently, and I’ve come to the conclusion that you are what I’ve been fighting for all this time. Not a damn class rank. I’ve been fighting for love, affection, understanding… And I believe that I can find all of that in you.”

“You… What…? I- How?”

“February 14, a dozen red roses were waiting for you on your desk in your dorm. With them, was a card addressed to you from a secret admirer. March 14, a diamond necklace was gifted to you for White Day by a secret admirer. And now, these.”

Namjoon produced a stack of envelopes bound by a black silk ribbon from his jacket pocket.

“These are from me. You’re a smart girl, (Y/N). Can you tell me who your secret admirer is?”

That was April. After a few talks with your co-host and having to sit through embarrassing stories of their childhoods, you finally took the leap and went out on a date with Namjoon… And you were the happiest you’ve ever been. The large stuffed animal that Namjoon had won you sat on a bookshelf, next to several other trinkets he had given you over the months you had dated.

You chuckled to yourself at the memory and closed your photos app. After which, you opened up your messaging app to shoot a quick text to Namjoon. That was until, you got a notification reading,

KIM INDUSTRIES CEO, KIM JOONHO FOUND DEAD IN HIS WINTER ESTATE.

Without thinking, you dialed Namjoon’s number and was greeted by a somber moan answering the phone.

“Namjoon, baby, I’m so sorry… I just saw the news.”

A sniff. “Hey. So the news outlets already published the story, huh? I should have known that it wouldn’t take long… They could at least have the common decency of letting his corpse grow cold first before they publicize it.” Namjoon chuckled humorlessly.

You didn’t know what to say. You couldn’t imagine going through the sudden shock of losing your parent, only to deal with the press soon afterward. You sensed that Namjoon needed some time to himself to grieve, and you were more than willing to give it to him.

“Yeah, it’s shitty what they’re doing. And to think that I’m going into that profession. It’s crazy.”

“It is what it is, (Y/N). Besides, I have faith that you’ll be one of the good journalists that don’t try to weave everything that they hear into lies and defamation.” He said earnestly.

Something about the way Namjoon spoke was unnerving. He didn’t sound like someone who was mourning their late father, but then again, he might have been in shock. His apathetic demeanor on the matter must have been a coping mechanism. After all, losing your father so suddenly is a lot to process.

All you could do is hum in response. “I’m glad you think so.”

“I know so, dear.”

A pregnant pause.

“Hey, (Y/N). I know this sounds horribly insensitive, but, can we still have our dinner date at my mansion? It’s just that I can’t bear to be alone right now, and you’re the only person I’ve been able to trust lately. It doesn’t have to be a date. I guess I just want you to come over.”

Your heart shattered into smithereens. He was alone and scared. Namjoon had no one to trust or turn to in his time of need, yet he found it within his heart to ask you. Who were you to refuse?

“Alright. I’ll go. Same time?”

He didn’t have to say a word, but you could hear his dimpled smile some out to play.

“Y-yes, yes, of course! Same time! Thank you so much, (Y/N). You don’t know how much this means to me. I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”

“Alright, see you soon. Bye.”

You hung up the phone with a sigh and faced your closet. You had exactly two hours to get ready for dinner. You had two hours to prepare…

And so did Namjoon.

Once again, Namjoon was summoned to his father’s study. He was expecting it sooner or later. His class rank hadn’t improved since his father sent him to take his top spot back by any means necessary, but you were number one now. Namjoon wouldn’t dare dethrone his goddess from her rightful pedestal.

What he wasn’t expecting, however, was upon opening the large doors a swift slap coming across his face.

“You useless, useless brat! You can’t even eliminate a simple girl?! You can’t even reclaim your title?! How am I supposed to leave my estate and company in such incapable hands?!”

Joonho was fuming. His once pride and joy had betrayed him and disappointed him. How dare he? Namjoon sat on the floor, gingerly rubbing his cheek. He was sure his father’s handprint was burned into his flesh.

“I swear, you’re incompetent just like your brother! He disappointed me, and look at where he is now! I should have known that it was too good to be true.”

At the mention of his brother, Namjoon’s body stiffened.

“All of this. You’re ruining your life and your career all for some girl?! You’re willing to throw away what I’ve essentially bred you for, all for some lowlife pussy?!”

At the mention of you, Namjoon began to see red.

“I suppose I’ve been too lenient on you. I should have known that you would flounder. Maybe I’ll get rid of (Y/N) myself. It’s clear that she means a lot to you. Maybe you’ll get back in line once she perishes.”

That was the final straw. With pure rage fueling his every cell, Namjoon sprinted over to his father’s desk and grabbed his letter opener.

“Say it again, bastard! Say it again!”

Now, Joonho’s figure was dissolving into a crimson blob. All of his human like features were gone in a furious red haze. Kim Joonho wasn’t his father anymore. He wasn’t even human.

He was the enemy.

Without giving his father a chance to speak, Namjoon plunged the letter opener into the older man’s eye sockets. After that, it was a blur. Hours had seemingly passed and Kim Joonho was nothing but a human pincushion. Stab wounds littered his body, and blood was oozing out of every one. With a satisfied grin, Namjoon stood and cupped a crimson hand to his face.

“Seokjin! Seokjin! Come down here!”

The head butler rushed in the study and into the carnage. The older male was mortified at the bloodbath before him, but he couldn’t help the relieved smile and tears of joy forming in his tear ducts.

“Brother, come help me clean up father. Unless, of course, you have some words for him?”

Seokjin carefully approached his father’s corpse and smiled wickedly. He placed a gloved hand on his eyeless face.

“You’ve disappointed me, Joonho. And now look where that’s brought you. My transgressions against you warranted that I were to be stripped of my place in the world as your son, only to become your servant. Your transgressions warranted your death at the hands of your prodigy. Isn’t that poetic justice? Sleep well, father.”

“Master Namjoon will be down in a moment.” A maid stated as she had you seated.

A white cloth napkin was folded and placed on your lap while you got comfortable in the antique dining chair. Staff hurried to and fro to finish preparing for your meal, and it was almost amusing seeing them rush around like busy worker bees instead of the esteemed staff of the Kim Manor.

A few moments ticked away before Namjoon made his appearance. He was elegantly clad in a designer Armani suit, giving a regal and princely appearance as he made his way over to you from the grand foyer.

“Please forgive me, dear. I had some business to attend to.”

Namjoon outstretched his arms, motioning for you to give him a hug. You happily obliged.

“Namjoon! There you are! I’ve been so lonely… Don’t you know that I’ve missed you?” You cheekily giggled. If you ignored the whole dead dad situation, the whole scene would appear wholesomely domestic. You decided to indulge in that notion.

Namjoon’s breath hitched.

“I’m sorry that I’ve kept you waiting. I hope that we can make up for lost time during dinner, yeah?”

You nodded and sat down in your chair. Namjoon was seated right beside you. As if on cue, the staff brought in your dishes. A classic Christmas dinner, consisting of turkey, dressing, mashed potatoes, ham, and vegetables was placed in front of you. On a small dish nearby, some cranberry jelly sat. You tried to hide the grimace at the red jelly. You were by no means a fan of the garnish, but you didn’t want to appear picky or ungrateful, especially considering the reason why you were having dinner with Namjoon in the first place.

Ever the attentive partner, Namjoon was keen on noticing your inner turmoil. “Is something not to your liking?”

“Uh, it’s just… I don’t really like cranberry jelly… That’s all.”

Namjoon looked utterly dumbfounded before letting out a joyful, booming laugh. “That’s all? Oh, (Y/N). You had me worried! I thought that I’d ruined the whole meal for you!”

His fork stabbed into a piece of turkey and he dipped the meat into the red gelatin.

“But, please do try the jelly. My brother and I, we made it for this occasion. I promise it’s nothing like the canned slop they sell in grocery stores.”

Namjoon made this? Now, this you had to try.

“Alright. Since you went through the effort of making it, I’ll give it a shot.”

You copied Namjoon’s actions of taking a slice of turkey and dipping it in the cranberry jelly. With the expression of a chef on Chopped, Namjoon eagerly watched as you placed the food in your mouth.

“Mmm! This is delicious! Namjoon, you should sell this! This is amazing!”

Another laugh came from Namjoon, although, this one had an arguably maniacal lilt. “Why, thank you, but I’m afraid that this specific batch is one of a kind. Besides, cranberry jelly isn’t the most profitable market out there.”

Little did you know that you had just ingested Kim Joonho’s coagulated blood. Perhaps that was why his cranberry jelly was one of a kind.

Merry Christmas.

#bwcssy2

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ruubles · 3 years

Text

A Bundle of Crimson Roses (Pt.3)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Pairing: Chuuya Nakahara x Reader

Warnings: Cursing , Alcohol , Suggestive Themes , Gore , Blood, Violence

Word Count: 6790

Y/N) stood at the back of the gazebo, her body leaned atop the white wooden rail as she stared out across the well maintained garden. Flowers twisted in the moonlight and swayed in the gentle breeze, rose bushes stood without a branch out of place and recently pruned, and the fountain brought a continuous stream of sound. These little details had been the focus of her attention, the only thing dragging her mind away from the bodiless head sitting on the ground behind her.

She hadn’t brought herself to do anything with it yet, leaving it there in hopes that maybe it was just a hallucination, but the longer she stood the more the realization came crashing down. In her time under the Port Mafia she’d seen, and done, horrible things that were considerably worse than this. Even so, she was shocked that someone would risk their life to get the corpse only to leave its head behind as a warning.

That’s what this was. A warning.

A warning to stay away. A warning to not track these people down. Whoever had been responsible for this murder was dangerous and they wanted the mafia to know that. They not only created a drug that could remove someone’s ability, but they went through all the trouble of tracking the victim down to keep this information from them. It was a basic strategy but well thought for this situation. As long as they left behind as little traceable evidence as possible then it would be near impossible to find the culprit.

“Fuck. That sure explains the missing body.” (Y/N) had lost herself in thoughts of the situation and hadn’t noticed Chuuya’s approach. She didn’t bother to turn around and listened as he approached her, his steps were shallow light as he took the longest route around the head. After a moment she felt him beside her, his arms crossed and laid on the railing. “You should have told me you found something, I was still searching the house!”

He huffed a little as he spoke, eyes focused ahead just as hers were. “Sorry, I guess I got caught up thinking about something. I haven’t had a partner in quite some time.”

“Tch. You don’t have to apologize, I’m not used to a partner either. Last time I had one, it was that shitty Dazai.”

(Y/N) chuckled, her grim face shifting to one with a slight smile. She shook her head at the mention of the suicidal man, he was quite the topic in the Port Mafia, even after he abandoned them. “I was never that close with Dazai, but I knew of him through a friend. It would seem many people perceive him in different ways.”

“Many people don’t like him, and I couldn’t agree with those people more.” Chuuya turned to look at (Y/N), finally acknowledging that she had at some point turned to face him. Her (E/C) eyes met his and he could see that glint in them, not the one of seriousness from this morning, but the playfulness he’d seen in her last night.

“Who are you Chuuya Nakahara?”

The question was a strange question, similar to the ones he’d been asked when they first met only twenty-four hours before. “That’s a dumb question for someone Mori spoke so highly of.”

“I’m no fool Chuuya Nakahara, I’ve looked into the case files of almost every high ranking member of the Port Mafia. You are the person with the least amount of information. I was able to get more from Mori’s own public file than your private one.” (Y/N) backed away from the ledge and took a few steps away from Chuuya, carefully watching her movements to stay a good distance from the head. “I’m working with someone who I know nothing about. Mori knows you’re loyal to him, but I have no reason to believe that you wouldn’t shoot me if the opportunity provided itself.”

“Now why would I do that? Mori made you my partner, and I’m not going to disobey a direct order from him.” Chuuya scoffed and turned to face her. “Plus you’re one to talk about minimal information when your file doesn’t exist. I may not be the most strategic person in this mafia, but I do like knowing who I’m dealing with.”

“It would seem we’ve hit a roadblock then. My files, both public and private, were burned upon request and I assume the missing information from yours is also ash.” (Y/N) stepped towards Chuuya, their eyes locked in a challenge with one another. Her eyes changed rapidly to a dark piercing gaze, as if the trust she’d gained for him had drained at a rapid pace. “I have no doubt that our partnership will be beneficial in this case, but if neither of us trust one another then I see no reason for us to be friends.”

~x~

Chuuya’s eyes remained glued to the road ahead, his ears honed in on the quiet breathing of the seat diagonal to his own. If he focused he could see the faint outline of a person in his peripheral vision, but their body still remained shrouded in darkness. (Y/N) had chosen to sit in the back of his car, to the seat opposite of her was a bloody bag securely buckled down.

They hadn’t spoken even a word after their show down in the gazebo, perhaps newfound apprehension had been built between both parties. Few people knew of Chuuya’s past, but he understood that the mystery made any relations he had with another person difficult. For all (Y/N) knew he was a treacherous fiend that would stab her at moments notice. Though that statement applied for him as well, he had done his digging in the hours before he’d seen her standing alone outside and the stories of her did not disappoint.

The woman without a face, that was the constant whenever they mentioned her. He hadn’t a clue what it meant but whatever it was made her dangerous. Far more than most people of the mafia. Tidbits of information wormed their way into his mind, some of which were likely untrue, but the more he learned the less he really knew. From what he’d been told she’d joined the mafia at a fairly young age, just a little bit before the Dragon’s Head Conflict, and during the conflict was when her true strength had come to light. Mori promoted her just after the whole fight started, but he told no one but Daza and a few people who knew of her.

“Tomorrow I propose we go to the scene of the fight. We could likely find some bullet casings or leftover blood. It could be a lead for where to find these people.” Chuuya could see in his eyes that even though she was speaking to him, she hadn’t turned away from the window.

“We could go in the morning and-”

“Afternoon.” She cut him off. “I have business to attend tomorrow morning and I would much rather not be forced to reschedule. My apologies for cutting you off, but please continue.”

Chuuya rolled his eyes but made no comment on her rude interruption. “Then we can meet up tomorrow afternoon; Do you need a ride?”

(Y/N) hummed to herself for a moment before answering him. “If it isn’t too much trouble. My business is at a bakery on Southwest Street: Kim’s Kreamy Delights. They have some of the best sweets I’ve ever tried, I’m a big fan of their Dasik, but Mrs.Kim only makes them on Lunar New Year. When it’s not around that time, I usually get a kkwabaegi.”

“You seem well acquainted with sweet treats, I assume you know that they aren’t healthy.” Chuuya’s comment was somewhat judgmental, but it seemed to fly over (Y/N)’s head. Her mind still focused on the warm treats she would get whenever she was in town.

“I know that, but I do things for the enjoyment of myself. We are members of a mafia Chuuya, I’ve never expected to live a long life, nor a happy one. If you wish to judge then do so but I will not be changing my habits based on your criticism.” He had thought she hadn’t noticed the backhanded rudeness he’d displayed but it seems as though she had.

There was a strange silence that fluttered through the air of the car as the light of the city finally made its way through the car's windows. Slowly the trees on the outer rim of the city turned to buildings and the streetlamps illuminated the faces, every post passing by in a fleeting second before another one replaced the eerie orange light. Chuuya’s car sped down the street, not one to abide by normal street laws, and every sharp turn brought them closer to the mafia’s headquarters.

After a couple of minutes he pulled up in front of the towering building, its floors spiralling upwards into the stars. Several windows could be seen alive with a blazing light, not a strange sight considering many of the mafia’s business matters occurred during this time of night. Usually Chuuya would be in there monitoring what went on in every crevice of that building, but instead he was heading home to an empty apartment where he’d be receiving regularly spaced messages updating him on what was going on. It had been Mori’s order for him to get some rest, but the work of a mafia member was never done when night fell.

“Are you sure I can’t drop you off at the place you’re staying at? I don’t mind driving a little further.” Chuuya had extended his offer not because he was kind, but because Mori had been clear that someone should be looking out for this woman. He’d gone as far as assigning Hirotsu to monitor her, there had to be a reason he’d want someone of such importance to watch out for someone as capable as an executive.

“I’ll be fine, but thank you for the offer. There’s some papers I want to take a look at before going to my residence.” (Y/N) opened the door of the car, bringing both her legs out onto the sidewalk with a gentle click of her heels. She hesitated before turning back around. Her hand latched onto the top of the sheet that they had used as a handle and dragged the head towards her. “I truly am sorry for my words earlier. One of my bad habits is trying to forget my past, and I let that get to me. If it’s okay, I would like to take back my rude words.”

That was surprising. In the garden, (Y/N) had been so serious and gave off the same feeling that Mori gave off whenever someone questioned his authority. She was authoritative when she spoke of her burned files and her going back on her word of their relationship being nothing more than partners was something he hadn't expected. Thirty minutes ago he’d fully been prepared for her to be just another person he sees at work, but yet here she was apologizing. Every time they spoke it was like talking to another person, but this is the one who he’d met that had no apprehensions brought about by their job; This was the woman who was behind the mask of the mafia.

“I’m not one for friends.” (Y/N) had tried to hide the slight slump of her shoulders at his words, but he noticed the slight change before she stepped out of his car. She closed the door without turning around and began to walk towards the building's entrance. Chuuya rolled the window down and called out. “But I would like to try one of those kkwabaegi you were telling me about.”

She stopped her motions and turned to face him with the smallest of smiles on her face. “You butchered that name.”

“Oh shut up!” He snapped before rolling up the window and speeding off. (Y/N) watched as his car went down the street and eventually turned the corner. Her (E/C) bleary with a tiredness she’d held for so long. They were far from friends, but in the mafia did anyone really have a friend? A life like theirs was not made for relationships greater than the ones they formed at work and that was a fact (Y/N) had learned a long time ago. She didn’t expect anything from Chuuya, but she hoped that maybe when this was all over that there might be someone who wants her to stick around.

“So are you enjoying your new partner?” The voice was deep and sudden, there had been no one around moments before. (Y/N) showed no surprise of this person's newfound presence; She had known the moment he had appeared behind her. “The kids aren’t mad, but they are expecting you to take them out for ice cream. You’d better not disappoint them or I’ll pour all your wine into a bush.”

“Oh come on Isaac, I may not be the most caring person in the world but I wouldn’t disappoint those kids. Not again.” (Y/N) turned to face her friend. Isaac stood with his head turned up as he let out a puff of air and watched as it turned white and then disappeared. He wore the same outfit he wore whenever he was bartending: A dark gray button up tucked into a pair of pitch black jeans, simple but with the added spice of five undone buttons to reveal a well sculpted body beneath. He was a person of habit. “Did you just finish a shift?”

“No? What gave you that idea?” They walked side by side to one another, Isaac’s hand buried in his pocket as they approached the building.

(Y/N) stopped in her tracks, a deadpan expression replacing the sly smile she’d worn moments before. “You cannot tell me that outfit is the extent of your closet.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean!” Isaac snapped, hand pulled from his pocket as he balled his fingers into a fist. “I have better fashion than you Ms.I-Dress-Like-An-Cubicle-Worker.”

“Oh quit it, you’re acting so childish, Isaac.” (Y/N) shook her head and walked into the building, neither of the guards questioning her presence much. Her comrade followed her lead and stayed close as though fearful of being found for being out of place. “I thought better of you.”

“Oh shut it you hag, let’s just get this over with.”

~x~

“I doubt there’s anything left at the scene of the fight. Especially if you say it's a city owned warehouse.” Isaac sighed and fell back on his chair before continuing. “They’re easy to access and I doubt that someone willing to go through all the trouble of disposing the body wouldn’t clear that place out.”

Mori sat at his usual spot at the head of the table, silent as he listened to both (Y/N) and Isaac shoot ideas off one another. He seemed enthralled in his own thoughts as he considered a plan of action. They all sat close to one another, Mori at the head of his table with one of them sitting in a chair on either side of the table. So close there was no need for their voices to be raised and that meant that anyone outside would have a hard time listening in.

It was strange for someone so strong and hated like Mori to allow an outsider like Isaac to ever be near him, but after all Mori had done for them both he trusted them more than a lot of the members of the mafia. (Y/N) was his executive and by extension Isaac was loyal, though he would not hold his tongue around him like she would.

“(Y/N), you must have an assumption as to who is behind this. Please clarify who it is.” Mori wanted to hear all the information, even if it might be wrong.

“Is that really even a question, Ougai? You’ve had the same assumption considering you didn’t only bring me back here, but you called a meeting with my old partner.” (Y/N) was apprehensive to continue, her idea had a lot of backing and would likely be true. For now it was only that, an idea, but the more they investigate the closer she’ll get to the life she used to have. “I think it was them. That old man is smart and a drug like this isn’t far from something he’d do.”

Isaac gritted his teeth, trying to find an argument for why it wouldn’t be them. Anything to keep the idea of them coming back out of his mind. They’d spent so much effort to escape their past and join Mori that even a possibility of the past coming back to haunt them was pestilent. “There wasn’t anything left with the part of the body they left behind. It’s protocol to leave them with every single body, you know that.”

“Of course I do, but there are exceptions to that rule! Given a direct order from him you don’t have to-”

“And if it is absolutely impossible, I know.” Isaac cut her off to continue his idea. “Something like this, so large, the old man wouldn’t want to let anyone take credit for it. He wants people to know it's them so they’ll be afraid.”

“There were roses in her garden.”

“You said she had a garden full of flowers of all kinds.” He argued back, hand hitting the table a bit too harshly. “A couple of roses bushes doesn’t fucking matter!”

“Enough.” Mori interjected. He’d taken both Isaac and (Y/N) in at a young age, but they both had a tough time before he found them. They may not have been together these past few years but they are still better partners than any two people who ever graced the mafia. Above all Mori sought to keep things neutral between them both so that they wouldn’t say anything they’d regret when things calmed down. “We have to think rationally and take a moment to talk it over. Neither of you are foolish, I’ve seen the things you can accomplish together but tensions are high right now. For now we assume it’s one of the recent organizations who have stood against us.”

It was silent for a moment as the pair thought things over. They’d lived a long life with shared pains but they both had managed to come out better for it. Isaac was raising five kids and smiled everyday as though it were his last, on the other hand (Y/N) buried herself in work and drowned herself with expensive delicacies to erase it all. They were like family and neither of them would blame the other for how things went after Oda’s death.

“If it’s not?” Isaac’s voice was low and gravelly as though he were on the verge of tears. It was weak and pitiful, but it explained exactly how they were feeling. “What if it is them, Mori? Do we fight them? We won’t win that.”

“It isn’t them.” (Y/N) cut in before Mori could say a word. “It can’t be. We went through so much to slaughter them during the Dragon’s Head Conflict. The numbers don’t lie, nearly every branch was pruned because of us. To come back now, and with enough people to even consider facing the Port Mafia, is impossible.”

Isaac slid his chair back and stood up, dark eyes more gloomy than they were glossy. “You seem to forget (Y/N), pruning is done to help a plant grow.”

~x~

Chuuya looked from his phone to the fancy hotel he’d parked across the street from. His eyes held hesitation as he scanned across the messages on his device one final time. Part of him wanted to ignore the messages and just go home, but doing this had become a ritual. A guilty pleasure that helped calm his riled nerves.

‘I don’t have work tonight if you want to drop by our special spot.’

‘C’mon Chuuya, at least let me know if you’re going to show up. I need to know if I should open the champagne sooner rather than later.’

‘Fine. I’ll be waiting, but until then let me leave you with a special present.”

‘Attachment: 1 Image’

Chuuya’s eyes scanned across the image once again, to say it was scandalous was an understatement. There was no face presented in the image, instead the picture captured a woman’s body adorned in a set of elegant hand-woven red lace lingerie. He wasn’t unfamiliar with the outfit considering he’d been the one to take it off her many times before.

Their relationship was nothing more than a late at night call whenever they needed to relieve some stress. Neither of them knew much of the other, their names had come the first night they’d grabbed a drink and their sexual desires came soon after. Though there were a few things he noticed: Her schedule was not linear, he’d get spontaneous messages throughout the month asking if he were free. Most of the time he could clear just a bit of time and make his way here to meet with her for a few hours.

They’d been doing this for months at this point and he still couldn’t wrap his head around the stupidity of his actions. Everytime he said he would end things off and never see her again, then as though he were wrapped around her finger he would be back here: Car parked in the same spot as always and his route to the room the same. A member of the mafia took a risk two or three times a month to visit a woman whose life he hadn’t a clue of.

Using his memory, Chuuya made his way through the lobby, passing by a clerk who offered a knowing nod in his direction. It was the same thing time after time but that familiarity was something he clung to. No one questioned him. No one asked why he did something. No one looked to him for answers. It was the opposite of what he did for work, but it was so much more freeing.

Taking the elevator up, Chuuya watched as the red numbers changed, going up one by one until finally the number fifteen. One final chime echoed through the metal cage and the doors slid open into a long spiraling hallway. Three steps out of the elevator, three doors to the right, and on his left. That path he’d memorized after his third meeting with this strange woman.

With a deep breath Chuuya tried to prepare himself to end this debacle that could become scurrilous if things were to go wrong. He opened the door and slid into the room quietly as though trying to go unnoticed. The sound of a running shwoer gently swayed throughout the room and he knew that she was getting ready for what she presumed to be his imminent arrival. He slid off his cape and hung it on the coat rack besides the door, his hat following suit.

The water shut off and a voice called out to him from somewhere beyond sight. “Oh Chuuya~”

Her voice was sweet as it called, drawing out the a at the end of his name to grab his attention. Getting the message he walked from the main room into the small, but still fairly large, bedroom. There she stood, body wrapped in a white towel that barely covered the most private portions of her body.

Alberta Einstein. She was a beauty to behold; her almond shaped eyes holding the deepest most dark irises you might ever see as if they were shadows coming to life with no light reflecting off of them. Long white hair would usually be flowing down her back and sway gently every time she took a step. Her figure was lean but she seemed to have curves in places that would make any man fall in a matter of moments. Now, standing bare in a bath towel, she was ravishing. Droplets of water dripping from her body and onto the floor, running from her neck down to her towel, and more littering the floor of the bathroom.

“I wasn’t sure you would show.” Her feet sunk into the carpet as she walked towards Chuuya, imprints of water marking her chosen pathway. Once close enough, her hand danced around his top button before easily sliding it undone. Slowly she moved to the second button and slowly began to undo it as well, but she hesitated. “Something wrong?”

Her eyes danced up to meet his, a shade so dark that his light blue eyes could never fathom their depths. “We should stop this.”

“You’re quite right, Chuuya. This relationship is going no where and it never will: We’ve been having casual sex for months but neither of us have caught an ounce of feelings.” She leaned into his lips, heat fanning across his face as she spoke, still continuing to fiddle with his buttons. “But isn’t that the fun part, my dearest Nakahara? Life isn’t about love even if people wish it was; It’s about enjoying yourself so much that you can’t possibly find it in your soul to frown.”

She leaned in and finally met his lips in the softest most gentle kiss she’d ever given to him. Her lips were warm as she pressed her body flush against his. With quick hands she undid the buttons at a much faster pace than the one she’d set before. Chuuya knew better than to let her do this once again but he quickly melted into her touch. Their lips entwined with one another as her mouth parted to let a gentle moan escape.

“I must say your sexual prowess surprises me. For such a short man you truly are skilled in bed.” She taunted his height, attempting to mask it with a compliment. They’d played this game time and time before.

“Tch. Same as always Ally, crude and judgemental so much so that you can’t even acknowledge your own shortcomings.” He moved from her lips to just under her ear, teeth grazing against her earlobe and sending a shudder down and throughout her body. “Last time we were together I specifically remember you getting so worked up that you could barely beg for more.”

She smirked and gulped down a large portion of air. Ally was not nervous, it was apparent on her face, instead she was excited. “That’s because I’m not a beggar.”

Chuuya had a response gliding across his tongue but before it could come out the incessant ringing of a phone bleared through the room. Ally let out an audible groan and pushed Chuuya away, hand lingering on his unbuttoned shirt for just a bit too long. Part of him wanted to pull her back but then he reasoned with himself and realized that his wish of ending things could still come true. With the interference of an outsider he had caught the slipup he’d made many times before.

“What the hell do you want, Thomas?” Ally snapped through her phone, she paced back and forth as she listened to the person on the other line. After a moment she stopped dead in her tracks. “You really are useless without me. Fine, fine I didn’t mean it.”

She turned to Chuuya and gave that smile, the same one he’d often give her when his work called him away from the hotel room. Though this time he was pleasantly surprised by the situation. Furthering contact with someone so wrapped in mystery was not beneficial in any way. If anything it was dangerous and reckless. She meant nothing to him and that feeling was mutual, so neither of them had any real attachments to one another. It was best to end things here so that neither of them had too many hard feelings when things would inevitably go bad in a few more months. Casual sex and a freind with benefits was the closest he’d ever get to a real relationship given his line of work, but even that was something he hadn’t saught after much in his time.

“I was busy.” She growled into her phone before taking a deep breath and calming her nerves. After a moment her resolve and anger faded in one swift motion and she sighed. “I’ll be there in fifteen minutes, just wait for me in the meeting room okay?”

With a final goodbye she hung up the phone and tossed it onto the bed. She followed suit with her phone and fell onto the white bedding, face smashing against the soft comforter they would usually be tangled in by now. “This is for the best Alberta. I meant what I said. My job isn’t the most lenient and I don’t need distractions right now, so this is my final goodbye to you.”

She turned to look at him, watching as he redid the buttons she’d worked to undo. Turning over she spread her arms across the bed and closed her eyes. A soft smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “That’s true, my job is also picking up pace right now. We have a big projecting starting and I’d hate to miss out on it because of an outside relationship. Perhaps when things settle down we could meet up again, relive the first we met.”

“That won’t be necessary, when I say final goodbye I mean it.” Her ears perked up and she sat up, realizing now that he had already left the room and slid on his jacket. She heard the door open and then once again his voice rang through her ears. “Find yourself someone who’s actually in love with you, okay? Someone who’s worth your time.”

With those final words, the door closed to the hotel room and she was left alone to her thoughts. Intrigued by the man who she’d enraptured by her beauty. She had no romantic feelings towards him, but she was quite sad that their days of booty calls would no longer be happening.

~x~

Chuuya walked through the halls of the Port Mafia’s building, against the order he’d been giving he returned to headquarters in hopes of catching Mori before he left. Though after travelling up to the top floor he’d come to the conclusion that his boss had already left. He’d likely have gone to get rest for the night or take Elise to do something better than sit around his office.

“Chuuya.” Kouyou’s appearance behind him was sudden, her steps quiet as ever as she approached with her usual long strides. Her dress swayed as she continued by his side. As usual she spoke and moved in a way so elegant that she resembled a goddess. “How is your evening? I could have sworn Mori told you to return to your residence.”

“It’s late Kouyou, you should’ve gone home hours ago.” Chuuya tried to divert the subject from his disobedience, but he knew that even so Kouyou would insist. She was a Port Mafia executive above all else but that did not mean she was heartless. It was fleeting comments that passed by ever so often that reminded him of this; She cared about him in a similar sense to how she cares for Kyouka. “Do you have any idea where Mori might be? It’s late but usually he wouldn’t have left by this time.”

“Last time I saw him, he was meeting with (Y/N) and that handsome young bartender. I always forget his name but he makes the most wonderful cocktails.” Her voice sounded nearly dreamy as she recalled the delicious drinks she’d enjoy ever so often. Kouyou was the type of person who could handle her liquor well, unlike himself, and he’d seen her drink a dozen fruity drinks without ever slurring a single word. It was honestly somewhat startling. “Though I do remember he stormed out and your partner followed close behind. They sounded as though they were having a heated discussion but I was too caught up in a phone call to hear much of what they said.”

“Isaac.” Chuuya said slowly , Kouyou perked up and turned to him with a soft questioning hum. “That’s his name. Why would Mori want to meet with a random bartender? I thought (Y/N) said she was going home.”

The woman next to him chuckled, she pressed the button to call the elevator before turning to him. “I have no clue why Mori would want to speak with that man but I assume he has a reason and we should not question him. As for (Y/N), I’m glad to see you’re getting along with her. You were quite opposed to your partnership during the meeting this morning.”

“Getting along isn’t the phrasing I’d use.” Chuuya grumbled, arms crossing as he turned to face the elevator instead of his mentor. “I don’t trust that woman. She’s hiding something and I’d rather not be staring down the barrel of a gun when I find out what it is.”

They fell into silence, neither of them knowing what to say. Chuuya wasn’t in the wrong for believing she was hiding something, no one who can switch their personality as quick as her is being genuine. Mori trusts her and that is abundantly clear but what isn’t is why he’d never heard of her. Another executive that no one knew of was strange to say the very least. For now he wouldn’t question her much, instead seeing what he can find out without her realizing he’s digging around for information.

Kouyou knew a little of (Y/N), Mori had told her some of the stories about the feats she’d completed during her time in Russia. She knew there was more to the story but if Mori had trust in her to stay loyal to them then it was not her place to question it. One thing was clear to her from the way that her boss spoke: (Y/N) was strong and she is not foolish, and keeping her hidden from everyone was a strategy of the finest creation. He hadn’t told her what his ability is but whatever it was it made her abnormally strong compared to a regular mafioso.

“Your accusation is likely true, she is hiding something from us but I believe that Mori knows exactly what it is. We’ve pledged our lives to the mafia which means we are to have faith in our boss.” Finally after what felt like minutes the elevator door dinged and began to open. “I have a strong feeling that you and your new partner aren’t nearly as different as you’d like to believe… Perhaps I’m just being foolish.”

“You really should be getting some rest, my dear (Y/N).” The voice of Mori coed from the elevator, his slender hands wrapped around her shoulders as he gave them a gentle squeeze. She tried to shrug him off but the further she got from his grasp the tighter his hold became. It was almost as though watching a father taking care of his young daughter, but below the surface they were hiding something. Chuuya and Kouyou had been so enraptured with their own conversation that they hadn’t bore witness to the quiet whisper Mori had slipped to (Y/N) before the doors were all the way open.

“Get off of me you old man!” She shouted, bringing her foot back on his before whirling around. Not noticing his presence, her back bumped against Chuuya’s chest. He stumbled a bit at the sudden added weight but his arms caught around her and steadied them both. Surprised, she turned to face her hero with an utterly sweet smile. “Oh? Hello Chuuya, I didn’t expect to see you again this evening. Did you not have plans to attend?”

Mori perked up at the mention of one of his executives, specifically the one he’d told to take the night off. “Plans fall through often, no big deal. I just thought I’d come to make sure that Mori had been given a full report on what we found.”

“There’s no need to worry Chuuya, (Y/N) has given me a full report and I have faith that your digging tomorrow will bring more information to light.” Mori straightened himself from the endearing man they’d seen moments ago. His voice had a cold demeanor as it always had when he spoke with them, though when he spoke with her it seemed he had a similar attitude to the one he used when communicating with Elise. “I have faith in the both of you to prove your worth as executives. May you prove my assumptions right that your partnership was not in vain, then perhaps I could be persuaded to give you both a raise befitting your work.”

(Y/N)’s eyes searched up Mori, her gaze travelling from his gloved hands up to his rigid smiling face. It was clear to her that he was faking every word and gesture as if hoping to give his two closest advisors a false sense of security. His whisper still rang in her ear, ‘For now, act as if our conversation with Isaac never happened. You are, and only are, an executive of the Port Mafia.’ The message was clear with what he wanted but the intent behind it was a mystery. Had he meant it as a form of comfort to remind her that her past was not to stop her from having a future, or was it a warning to keep up the act as a perfect mafia princess and play the diplomat role, perhaps it was neither and simply a reminder that her life has only ever been that of a pawn. Any way he went about saying it, there was obvious fabrication of joy in his face.

“Thank you, sir.” Chuuya took a low bow before his boss and Kouyou offered a small courtesy. “Though I would like to speak with you about a few things when you have the time.”

Mori looked from Chuuya to (Y/N) as though he were asking her what questions she’d brought about from Chuuya, but all she did was shrug in response. He would either ask about her past and her file or he would bring up the fact that their partnership was not in the best of graces. “I truly would love to speak with you about this Chuuya, but Elise has been waiting on me for hours! Tomorrow morning I should have a bit of free time if that’s okay.”

“That will be fine, thank you sir.”

“Now, as your boss, I must request that you all get some rest. Specifically you (Y/N). I know that bad habit of yours and I’d prefer it if it didn’t interfere with your work.” Mori’s words confused the two people who didn’t know much about her habits, but she understood it well enough. He had made a jab at her constant desire to work and the way she would stay awake until the point of utter exhaustion. It was a bad habit she’d had for a long time; But it was part of the reason she got so much work done. “Please do watch your phones in case there’s an emergency, but if there is not then enjoy your time off.”

Mori stalked away from the group and in the direction of his meeting room. “Well I should be going as well, I’ve got some place to be. May you both have a goodnight.” (Y/N) wasted no time in excusing herself from the situation, wanting nothing more than to find her way to a place she’d been meaning to visit since she returned to Yokohama.

“Do you need a ride?” Chuuya was not fond of (Y/N), and that feeling went both ways, but his partner had done nothing to wrong him yet. Until she did so, he would be kind and offer her a ride. Kouyou smiled to herself but used her fan to hide it; The gesture earned a glare from Chuuya. “I don’t mind, I’ve got a stop to make before I return to my apartment anyway.”

“That won’t be necessary, but thank you for the offer Chuuya.” (Y/N) stepped into the elevator and gave a small wave before the doors began to close and seal her away from them both. “Tomorrow afternoon, don’t forget okay?”

With that she was gone.

#Chuuya #Chuuya Nakahara #chuuya nakahara x reader #port mafia #mori ougai #bsd kouyou #bungou stray dogs kouyou #original character #original work #fan fiction #mature themes #bungou stray dogs #bungou SD #chuuyaxreader #bsdxreader #reader insert #xreader #bungo stray dogs

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crimsonfluidessence · 3 years

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Prompt 14: Commend

Esredes liked to consider himself someone who could break the world down into things that made sense, or at least identify where they did not.

Everything had to fit neatly into preexisting pieces. This is how one thing operated, this was how another functioned and went. People often defied this in various ways- in romance, especially, for one, throwing themselves at the worst possible matches and declaring it love, or in various other areas that should require logical thinking, and instead he watched everyone flounder.

Esredes himself tried to make sense too, and he liked to think he made perfect sense until a giant wrench was thrown into his entire life, multiple times. An ordinary noble man serving his duty as a Temple Knight, there was nothing to misunderstand. He would fight and die for his city, and that was all there was to it. He wouldn’t leave behind things undone in a trail of misery, it would all wrap up in a neat little bow and be laid into the ground, for he wasn’t composed like a civilian with more to offer.

A soldier that wasn’t a real person, through and gone. Simple.

And then he was a harrier, and then he was a citizen again, and if things hadn’t stopped making sense before, they absolutely did by the time he regained legal person status. Now everyone wanted different things out of him.

During the war, he had at least been exactly as he was before- a soldier, designed to die on the battlefield. Even if his halves got muddled and mixed into a pool of confusion at times, he had that.

But being forced to accept a civilian role left him lost. People told him so many different things, more than usual. “You should be allowed to live your life. You’re a real person, Esredes. You deserve happiness.” Put together, that was the summary of what everyone said- he should try to be a real person now. Ever a skeptic, this did not make sense to Esredes. People weren’t simply born with the capacity to become true people- they either were or were not. He had felt that emptiness inside him for all of his life, and everyone else had noticed he wasn’t real too. You could tell in the way people looked at and responded to you, that they noticed something was missing, no matter how much you tried to shapeshift around it. The insults were just one of many parts of it- stick in the mud or up somewhere specific, no fun, boring, filthy traitor, bastard, disgusting, brat, idiot, snake, manipulative, untrustworthy, and the ever present times heretic was used as an insult, that was just every day, something to absorb to prevent a real person from taking it.

Hm, Esredes thought to himself. No, he didn’t believe what all these people said, but perhaps if only to see if there was a chance in hell of their idea being logical, he considered their arguments, and tried testing them through shapeshifting. “You’re not a monster,” people often told him when he tried to say the obvious. “You’re just someone who fought for what was right and made the hard choices.” Those he loved most would tell him in soft tones how much he meant to them and how he was capable of so much more than he thought. “Please, Esredes. Live for yourself.” How would that ever be possible? He went out every day and people were immediately hostile, even if they didn’t know anything about who he was. They did not see a real person when they looked upon him, and he couldn’t magically make himself one, not like this. Strange things did happen, that was true. Like Heilyn. Heilyn was a useless bastard who hated him for being a heretic who actually did something. There was no convincing Heilyn otherwise- how could he after he had manipulated his son into helping him?

Except Esredes kept forgetting Heilyn was one of those people who never made sense. "I just don't understand why we can't just both give each other more of a chance.” Heilyn had told him during those first couple weeks of them being stuck together in the same job, with Esredes trying to torment him into quitting. “That goes for both sides. I was an ass in the past sure, but... doesn't wanting to make up for that count for something?" "You want to make up for it?" Esredes asked back with an eyebrow raise. "What motivation would you have for that besides that you're forced to now that you can't get rid of me?" "Trying to be a better person? Right my wrongs? I actually care? All of the above?" Esredes’ brow raised up even further. “You actually care about what.” “You, this, all of it?” Heilyn spoke as if this was supposed to be obvious. “Is there something wrong with that?” “…Yes? That doesn’t make any sense.” God, why did this broken stupid tall man constantly fail to have any form of sense? It frustrated him to no end. “Explain which part doesn’t make sense and I’ll gladly explain it to you.” "You claiming you care about me. I don't get it. Are you really suggesting that you give any ounce of a shit about the man you've put a dagger to, insulted relentlessly, know berated your son, and sold your soul to as your last ditch way out? Because that... is just straight up lying to yourself to make this situation more tolerable. Even I know you better than that." "And if I'm not lying? What then Esredes? I... learned a thing or two from Alastor. Changed my mind a little. Thus, I want to make up for past things said. Its that simple." Esredes just stared at Heilyn for a moment. "...Nope. That still makes the least amount of sense possible." Heilyn shook his head. “Did I... not phrase that right? I thought I was finally getting better at my shitty phrasing." "I... I don't even know. Phrasing or not, that just doesn't make sense." "I'm... pretty sure I spoke plainly? I've been told I don't make sense often because I don't do that. Or... wait. Do you just not believe it at all?" "No I don't believe it all. What reason would I have to? You already know how horrible I am." "I learned? I listened? Perceptions can change feelings you know." "What the hell are you talking about. We didn't speak between you asking me for help and now. And in that time, you've seen and heard nothing except me insulting you. You still believe me to be the devil you sold your soul to willingly." Because Heilyn could be nothing but a fucking idiot. "Alastor didn't," Heilyn replied plainly as he looked across the table at Esredes’ eyes with conviction. "He didn't and told me all that he could about you. Insisting I shouldn't hate. So I listened, and I learned, and my perception changed."

Still, he didn’t want to get it. A few days later and Esredes was bringing up the same thing. "So. You claim to have changed your mind... after Alastor told you. Which must have been after it happened. And yet, you still acknowledged me as only a devil when you sold yourself to me. You were only using me as a way out. So, I still don't really have, any sort of reason to believe you. And so I suppose that is my question. Why, Heilyn? Why does nothing about you ever make any sense? Why is it that you think in such an incomprehensibly impulsive way that I have no hope of understanding? How are you supposed to work, really? Is there any method to the madness, to how you just flounder and scream in your own head? This is a genuine question, I assure you."

Heilyn was silent for a good few moments before he finally sighed and spoke. "So, the answer is probably going to piss you off, but when we met before taking on that bitch, that was the longest period of time I'd spent in this area in ages. I was under a shitton of stress, and on top of that the song was just raging like hell in my ears. I hardly had clarity until the first time Alastor helped kill that monster. Then there was just a bit of sweet relief to ease the mind. Bottom line? I was stressed, and just pissed that nothing was going right all the while just making sure that my stupid son who got accused of murder was okay. The plan wasn't even to come back here until I heard that he had no place to go that was safe aside from my family's manor. Figured he was lost, scared, and needed me, so I took the risks and paid the prices." "Yeah. Yeah, you did. But that still doesn't answer part of the question. Do you understand why it's extremely hard to believe your claims from the other day?" "Oh yeah, I totally understand. My mind... was- is like a storm some days. And I'm like a little boat just trying to make it through. Find the eye of the storm, or have someone guide the boat to it. Alastor told me things, and that started getting me to that place. seeing you again though, while my mind was clear, I think that's when it clicked in a hundred percent on the things he said." And when Esredes asked him to elaborate, he continued on. “Well, one, I can't see Ferrant asking for your help unless he was damned sure you meant no ill will. that meant you were strictly here to help make this city better for heretics and shit post-war, right? Second, they wouldn't even let you in the city if you were as awful as I'd thought you at first. Third..." Heilyn hesitated. "You looked lost. Very lost. A little flicker in your eyes that didn't look at all like before. And I've known that kind of pain all too well myself, so I recognize it quickly. Couldn't hate after seeing that in the slightest." “When the hell did I look lost?” "Its not... a physical look. More like... a feeling you get? When you look at that person? Like... there's something important missing from their very spirit. That sort of thing." "I've always had a lot missing from my spirit. That's nothing new. And certainly not something worth deeming me unhateable." "Then take the rest of it as my answer if you don't want to take that part." "Well at that point, all you're going off of is evidential assumptions. And here's the problem with your logic. If it's based off assumptions, then it breaks apart the moment you're wrong about anything. Therefore you don't actually care, do you? You just want to know something isn't dangerous and going to stab you." Heilyn tilted his head. "Look, you didn't use my Nidhogg notes against me, you were willing to compromise and use the notes system, you realy honestly haven't done anything so far to make me actually think you're too much of a bastard. I'm willing to trust you unless you prove otherwise and frankly? I don't believe you will. You’re fine, in my book at this point.” Still, the conversation went on and on and on. “You have no evidence I’ve changed. What reason do you have to forgive anything? How am I not that shitty given everything else? I don’t believe I meet your definition of not dangerous, you know what I am capable of.” Thing after thing Esredes threw out, forcing Heilyn to continuously keep trying to explain himself, and yet somehow by the end of the conversation, they had come out being nice to one another.

Still, Heilyn was an exception who defied logic. It didn’t matter that Alastor took his apology and said he believed he was good with little effort, or that Yulionne saw the best in him despite what happened, that Ferrant believed wholeheartedly in him, that Murielle’s adopted son of all people came to him and asked if they could talk about everything they had to discuss civilly, that the very man who betrayed him and sold him out as a heretic came around to apologize, or that some people immediately saw him as a heroic or positive figure, included but not limited to an atoning shiny and green celebrity performer, a Garlean defector who Esredes had originally insulted, the one member of the Temple Knight Company that all hated Esredes who for some reason treated him like a real person, and a High Inquisitor of all things who praised him for his independent service before asking it of him.

The fact still remained he was an empty being, and why had the world ceased to make sense so much people kept trying to defy that? Of course his loved ones wanted to insist on a false narrative because they cared about him, but why did all these other people want to tell him so much of why they saw good in him?

Ah, that swirling red fog was annoying to see through. You are, you aren’t. He would continue to watch the most unlikely people come to see what he wanted them to, the others see right what he knew was true, and unknown to himself, he had ceased to make just as much sense as the people around him.

I want to know what it’s like to live. I am delaying the inevitable. When will it finally come? I’m a monster. I’m not a monster, can’t you look around you and see how many worse people are right there? I merely did what was right, and you are assigning more blame to it because it’s not your side. You shouldn’t be around me. You can trust me, I’m here to help you.

I’m still not a real person, was the one thing that remained when the various voices came and passed. As he hyperfocused and leeched on to the next person to come along and give him praise to fill that incessant hunger in that never ending cycle, he certainly must be at peace with it.

The world had stopped making sense. He had stopped making sense. And while Esredes could not fully give up his nature of trying to make sense of things, he ultimately decided to exist in a nebula, for now. Wind blew past him, and dubiety persisted like an old friend, wrapping itself all around the man with a whisper of I told you so.

—-

@thecalmnessandthestorms / @heartofthefury Heilyn, Alastor, Ferrant, Murielle, Trystan (unnamed mention), Raulin (unnamed mention)

@eternal-finis Yulionne

Zenith Alphinoix (unnamed mention)

Fern Cinnieux (unnamed mention)

@emeraldeorzean Kalas (unnamed mention)

Forte Tertia (unnamed mention)

#writing #in action #ffxivwrite2021 #heilyn #alastor #ferrant #trystan #kalas #tertia #murielle #yulionne #alphinoix #cinnieux #raulin #screenshots #fancy coat attire

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hydemind · 3 years

Note

Your thoughts on Isaac, William, Frankie an Jack 🎤?

OHHHHHH CROW I COULD GO ON ABOUT THEM FOR HOURS.

this post is SUPER FUCKING LONG so for the first time in my life im using a read more link.

I'm gonna start out with Will, who, a little fun fact, isn't actually named William! His full name is Willis Grossman. His parents thought it'd be funny. Will doesn't know his full name.

Here are some other fun facts about me and @functionentropy 's Will (along with other characters below) (he is also the one who has been making this entire creepypasta interp with me! Go check out their art or else /lh):

Will was born in the late 1800s early 1900s!

His parents were a lot like a Bonnie and Clyde duo, and they cared and loved for Will very, very much.

Will always looked up to Isaac! He wanted to be exactly like his grandpa when he grew up. Isaac was also a wonderful grandfather as well.

Will, on his 13th birthday, got Isaac's mask as a gift. When he got it, Isaac said to him: "keep it safe. It's a family heirloom.", Will uses that excuse as to why he still wears it to this day.

Speaking of Isaac, he's the underrealm equivalent to a tumblr sexyman. Everyone thinks he's hot shit, but that also goes for a lot of serial killers residing in the underrealm. Will unfortunately had to see his grandfather on magazine covers talking about the underrealm's HOTTEST NEW KILLER. He hates it.

Will ran away from home after Isaac died at around the age of 20 to 21, and considering he was a legal adult, his parents couldn't do much. They're still looking for him. (How, you may ask? Well, a little thing about the underrealm is that it stunts growth. You're essentially unable to die of old age down there. Think shitty immortality. His parents are looking for him, and they know he's in the underrealm- so that's how they are still around!)

Will had the worst time in the underrealm for the first few years he was down there. He wasn't immediately enrolled in the institution and he had a hard time holding down a job. Eventually he met Frankie! They live(d) in an apartment together. The first time Frankie met Will he thought he was Isaac and told his landlord and him HELL NO. Frankie does not like Isaac. Cue [will's offended gasp] and him saying he's his GRANDSON, and WHY IS HE ACTING LIKE ISAAC SUCKED? Cue Frankie making fun of him for being a grandpa's boy.

Frankie and Will had a bumpy relationship for a while. Will wasn't always a good person. Not really bad, just a fucking dumbass.

Speaking of Frankie...

Here's stuff about Frankie!

Frankie's origin story is essentially the same in this interp. Except for the fact that Frankie very much HAD A PAST. (which. If u wanna know more........I would love to talk about it......but this is about CURRENT Frankie so if u wanna know more bro just pop up in my dms or send another ask im feeling wild tonight)

After Amy passed (which was NOT due in part to the operator in this universe. The operator just found her like that) he was found by Bell (prince beelzebub, ruler of the underrealm at that point). You should know Frankie wasn't always an adjusted and normal fuckin person. He was like a rabid dog for a good while there.

While Frankie was unhinged he fucking death rolled Daisy the first time they met. (Daisy is an oc! I'm willing to talk more about him if you want the deets. He's interesting :]) because of this Daisy is the only one allowed to openly make fun of Frankie. (Playfully, of course.)

Daisy and Bell both basically helped Frankie adjust to society.

Frankie is autistic! So is Will. And Isaac. All. Everyone. Everyone has autism. (Shhhh. i'm projecting.)

Frankie can see souls! He's a very good judge of character because of it. However Frankie doesn't know what he's seeing is people's souls.

Frankie goes specifically after bad people. He'll take jobs from bad people, but he'll kill them, too. He says "he's sending them back to where they belong".

Frankie was the first to really show Will killing isn't just something you do. It's more than that. Will had never really processed death and murder of his fellow man like that before. He has a hard time even processing people as people sometimes, outside those of whom he cares for. This is because of Isaac. Isaac taught Will that people are bad- all of them. And that killing them is preventing them from hurting others, even if they haven't yet.

Frankie is a good guy and honestly a softie deep down. He worries and cares for all those who are close to him, even if he doesn't act like it sometimes.

Frankie says Toby "kidnapped him" and "made him diseased". 1. Frankie can very much leave the household at any time and 2. Frankie is referring to the operator sickness. Speaking of that-

Frankie was dragged through the operator's own personal hell! (Aka the realm they reside in more often than not, aka the place that Tim gets tossed around in near the end of marble hornets.) Reason being was because he threatened Toby's life. The operator is very protective of Toby.

Speaking of that, someone else was around when Toby met Frankie...

ONTO LAUGHING JACK!

ohhh man. Oh man. Oh baby. This clown is FULL of illness. Alright. So let's start off simple:

Lj was of course, made for Isaac. That's still a consistency. What isn't is that lj was around Isaac for a lot longer than in the original story. They developed a very close bond over the years they knew eachother, but, all good things must come to an end.

Lj returned to his box when Isaac left for boarding school. However, unlike the original story....Isaac didn't really come back to open the box. In fact, the most Isaac did was...well, I'll wait to spill that for Isaac's part later.

However! Eventually the house got passed off to another family. Years, and it mean YEARS later someone found lj's box in the attic! They were an unfortunate casualty.

After this, lj went and hunted Isaac down. Cue gore filled murder scene.

Things to note: LJ feels HORRIBLE about what he did to Isaac. He regrets it everyday. He wishes he had never done that to him.

But, time skip a bit.. we're further in the future now. LJ has his carnival set up and hidden away in an empty spot in the forest. He eventually comes across a wandering spirit because of this. This wanderer just so happens to be Sally!

LJ takes her in and swears to protect her with his life. In a way, you could say he sees her as a chance of redemption.

Sally was a wandering spirit, meaning she never really was stuck to one spot in particular- also meaning she wasn't very strong. Because of this, LJ gave her some of his own angelic essence. This boosted Sally and essentially made her a poltergeist!

(Note: Sally doesn't know how she died. Also, none of the things in her og story happened to her in this one. Fuck mishimishi. All my homies hate mishimishi.)

A little while after this they actually meet Toby and Jeffery! But this is getting long and to explain THAT entire debacle would make it even longer. but again I fully invite you to send more asks or just straight up dm me if you wanna know!

Now, last, but certainly not least..

ISAAC GROSSMAN.

OH MAN. Isaac is a DOOZY. Just like LJ, this baby is chocked FULL of illnesses! *slaps the top of his head like the roof of a car* but also, fair warning here: im gonna be talking about some heavy stuff. Abuse, physical and mental, gore, just. Death in general. Cannibalism, and EXTREME MENTAL ILLNESS *loud airhorn* so if any of that stuff gets to you steer clear of this part!

Anyways, let's start out simple!

Isaac was born in victorian England.

Isaac's mother was terrible towards him. I'm talking mental and physical abuse. She was a horrible, horrible woman.

Isaac's father...he wasn't a good person either, but he didn't beat Isaac. Nor did he really mentally abuse him either. He just...let it happen. He didn't even hurt his mother like he did in the original story. Isaac's mother was just plain bad for no good reason.

Isaac was sort of. Born having mental illness. They didn't just develop for him due to the abuse he experienced, though they certainly DID make it worse. There were other mental issues he has now that developed due to the abuse, however.

LJ was quite literally a godsend for Isaac. Metaphorically and not Metaphorically. LJ made Isaac happy, gave him comfort, and was basically like the mom he never had.

that's why it was so hard on Isaac when he had to leave lj behind. For a while he even had hallucinations of lj while in boarding school (which only furthered his future belief that lj was a hallucination brought on by the need to cope).

Isaac's first technical "murder" you could say was at boarding school. He pushed a shitty teacher down the stairs when there was no one around and they died. It wasn't even premeditated- more like it just sort of..happened.

Eventually Isaac graduated. When he did, he promptly returned home and killed his parents, as you do. /s

Isaac killed his mom in a rather violent fashion in comparison to his father- he whiplashed her so hard she fucking died.

Not long after this Isaac started his..well. I guess you could call it career.

Basically you know what happens after that. human skin chair, yadda yadda yadda, underrealm's sexiest killer, you know the drill.

Isaac did more than the human skin chair though! In fact, he uh. He. He did a lot. He did. SO much. But that was because Isaac believed in not wasting any part of the body. Which means Isaac not only made human skin chairs, but he was an avid cannibal, as well. (Fun fact, this very much extended to Will's father, mother, and Will as well. Will didn't know they were eating human for a long time. He had to realize that on his own.)

Eventually, Isaac punched his ticket because of LJ. But..I'd be a liar to say he really died.

No, our wonderful boy Isaac didn't die. He became a ghoul. Which, by the way, only further fucked with Isaac mentally! He's so ill. Some other things happened which I won't say here because they're spoilers for the fanfic I'm working on (Oh yeah the hyperfixation is that bad, but if you wanna know, again, I fully invite you to ask), but basically Isaac eventually gets taxidermied by, drumroll please..TOBY!!!! yeah. Toby does taxidermy as a job. He invited a new type of it for taxidermying Isaac. It was to repay daisy for something he did for the group.

But to say, again, that THAT was Isaac's end, would be another lie! No no no. Isaac was alive during the entire process! The good news is that he's never looked better after he escaped daisy's house when it got exploded by Frankie. Which..that's uh..another story for another day. This post is already insanely long and I am NOT putting it in the main tags.

So yeah! Im absolutely crazy for these dudes and I love all of them. By the way if you couldn't guess before Frankie and Will very much get together and are so so gay. Another little thing: Isaac is gay too, he had a past relationship with a man by the name of Dr. Locklear! Locklear is French German and his accent shows it. They were very close but fell out because of Locklear being involved with the institution and...a certain foundation.

I'll leave it to you to ponder on that one.

#if you have any specific questions about them feel totally free to ask!!!! im so insane and i WILL talk about all of them for hours given #the chance #asks #shut up murphy #ALSO please dont reb/lo/g this im a little afraid of me and tropy's ideas being stolen sgjndfk #th ank

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werewolfpropaganda · 3 years

Text

Sébastien - Male Werewolf x Male Reader

not sfw. 4886 words. you meet and fall in love with werewolf and busker, sébastien.

You missed seeing the stars.

You missed seeing the stars deeply — a horribly indescribable feeling you felt deep in your core everytime you looked up at the night sky — because Manhattan had no stars. It hadn’t had stars for a long time, and it probably never would.

Growing up in rural suburbia had few pluses, but at the very least there was space. Between the lack of restaurants, idealistic white picket fences, and families with two-and-a-half children, there were glimpses of beauty: picturesque forests, a wide open sky, and the stars. You used to go stargazing just about every week with your father well into adolescence (and partly into adulthood), until he died and left you with this mess. You moved to the city, and, well, here you are.

You looked out onto your balcony. It would have been a good spot for stargazing. Only 22 and you were living the American Dream: renting an apartment with an okay view of the adjacent building and a shittily constructed fire escape. You felt like it could collapse at any moment and you would get to recreate “Fire on Marlborough Street.” Truly the American Dream.

It was time for your daily walk. Despite the fact that you lived in Manhattan, you never left your apartment except for work and this walk. You had no real friends and Upper Manhattan was basically just banks and pharmacies, anyway.

You lived within walking distance of the park, so your routine was partially through there. You put on a jacket and left, not completely sure that you locked the door.

There was a guy playing the violin about six feet from where you were sitting, and he looked to be about your age. He was really good at what he did, playing a song that sounded nothing like the Suzuki viola books you played from as a child. You never learned the names of any classical composers so you guessed. Debussy? Bach? Vivaldi? Who knows?

He had an open case next to his boots, with about 20 dollars in various amounts. There was also a small card linking to his social media. You pulled up his Instagram, and, well, you hated to admit it, but he was really attractive. In all the pictures, his hair was styled into a wavy bun, although in real life his hair was down. He was currently wearing a bomber jacket and black jeans, and he was fit. Not fit enough to be gross, but in a casual way where you pretend to not care about how you look but you really do.

You dropped five bucks into his case. He looked at you and smiled a cute smile. You smiled back, and then tried to hide it by speaking. “That’s so beautiful. How long have you been playing the violin?” you asked.

“This is a viola,” He stated back, ceasing the music and holding his viola out. He ran his hand down the back of it like that meant anything to you.

“Shit,” You recalled when you played viola as a teenager. Anger was the only emotion you could feel when people called the instrument the wrong name, even though it was a pretty benign mistake. For a split second, you considered telling this to him, but doing that felt like it would make the situation about you and, subsequently, worse. You decided on a simple: “I’m sorry. Fuck.”

“Hey hey hey, you’re fine, darling,” He responded warmly. No one had called you a pet name in a long time. “Most people don’t apologize. Some people argue with me, as if, no, Sébastien, you’ve lost it and you’re actually playing a violin,” You laughed. “I’m Sébastien, by the way.”

French. That was a gross first thought you had, but he was indeed French. You told him your name.

“Oh, I love that. I’m going to apologize for snapping.”

“Sébastien, it’s so totally fine. I know the feeling of people assuming the instrument you play,” Apparently you were going to tell him. Okay.

“I must say, it’s always violinists,” Sébastien said.

“Oh my god, I so fucking know!” You unconsciously stamped your feet into the dirt to let out the emotion you were feeling.

“I hate violinists.”

“Hate ‘em. So stuck up.”

“I know. I actually used to play the violin religiously, but then my teacher told me I would have better luck finding a job if I played viola because there were so many violinists. Guess what, I can’t get an orchestral job anyway,” You both laughed. “I do think viola jokes are funny though.”

“Wait,” You said with a bit too much excitement. “What's the difference between a viola and a coffin?”

You could tell Sébastien knew the joke about halfway through, because he smiled and tried to hide it. “The coffin has the dead person on the inside. I love that one.” He laughed.

You talked for what felt like an hour — about your musical experiences and upbringings and hobbies and pretty much everything — although it was realistically a lot longer. Sébastien was born in France and moved here when he was young, and has been trying to do music ever since. It was still midday when you went out to walk and it was dark now. You stared at him illuminated by a streetlight that didn’t particularly flatter his face, but he still looked good.

“Would you…” Sébastien hesitated and spoke quietly. “Would you want to get coffee with me?”

You smiled. “Hell yes, dude!” Your mind flooded with first date spots. “There’s this really cute place by my apartment we can stop by now and then we could probably go starga-” You abruptly stopped and looked at him. Sébastien’s lips were pursed. Fuck. There aren’t any stars in Manhattan.

“Sure, darling!” He got down and put the money from his case into his bag. He started to put his viola away. “I’ve been busking for a while now and believe it or not fingerless gloves don’t warm you up all that much.” Sébastien paused. “Although maybe no stargazing.”

You felt the smile on your face start to lower. You hadn’t even noticed you were smiling until now. “Not even for the fuck of looking at an empty night sky except for the moon and the beeps of a satellite?”

“It’s like a metaphor.” He picked the case up and looked up at the sky for slightly too long. “Alright, I’m just gonna say it.” He’s a murderer. He’s already murdered you and you’re a ghost. This is the afterlife: talking to a conventionally attractive viola player.

“Yeah?” you asked.

“I’m a werewolf.” He didn’t necessarily look ashamed but you could tell he wasn’t exactly confident in what he was saying.

You had never actually met a werewolf, because the suburbs had no diversity and you never left your apartment. You actually did quite like werewolf porn, but admitting that you had both never seen a werewolf in real life and fetishized their existence would make you look really weird. “Nice.” You were excited.

You had been seeing Sébastien for about a week now, and were about to go through with your promise of coffee and shitty stargazing. The coffee place had been closed the first time because it was too late, so you tried again earlier. You deliberately planned this for the full moon, and, although you told yourself you wanted to feel guilty about setting up the date for werewolf sex, you didn’t. You could feel guilty after he pumped his jizz into you for the first time.

“Hey, Yasmeen,” you said. “I love your new hijab.” You really did. Yasmeen’s hijab was eggshell white with small gold stars.

“Thanks, love. You’re paying for it. Literally. You’re buying my coffee and thus paying my salary.” She chuckled and motioned to Sébastien. “Who’s the piece of ass?”

“Aren’t you in a relationship? And gay?”

“I’m like an illiterate nun, love.”

“Right…?”

“I can look at the menu, I just can’t order.”

“God, Yasmeen.” She laughed at herself again. “Anyway, I’ll have a black coffee and one of those stupid little sandwiches, and Sébastien’s gonna have a pumpkin spice latte.”

“Sébastien? French.”

“I know, right?” You said this a little bit louder than you should have.

“He has some audacity asking for a pumpkin spice latte in early January, especially since this isn’t a Starbucks.”

“Just make it for him.”

“Alright, love.” She put her hands up to indicate innocence. “You’re not normally this snappy.”

“He’s hot. And interesting.”

“Fair enough.” Yasmeen got to work making your drinks, and you sat down across from Sébastien. It was a communal style table, which felt strange for such a small place, and the lighting was slightly too yellow to be flattering. You and Sébastien were probably the last customers. He was typing into a document when you sat down, and promptly put his phone away.

“Do you know them?” Sébastien asked.

“Yeah, actually,” you responded. “Yasmeen used to live in the apartment above me and we met like it was La Bohème. I actually used to call her Mimi until she eventually told me she didn’t like it.”

“Huh. Did she need to light a candle?”

“You know it.”

Sébastien gazed down to your chest for a second, before reinstating eye contact. “Wait, am I just being used as cannon fodder to boost the popularity of your friend’s cafe? Do you take men and force them to pay 10 dollars for coffee and a sandwich? Daily? Shame, darling, shame.”

“You aren’t the first man to realize that, Sébastien, although you are the first man to realize that on the third date.”

“And you just tell them when they find out? You must get a lot of wrong numbers.” He laughed a gross laugh — hearty, somehow accented with French, and you felt the vibrations of it just by touching the table — but you enjoyed it nonetheless.

Yasmeen walked over. “Here is your black coffee,” She said, placing the drinks down. “And here’s your pumpkin latte, love. The sandwich will be out in a bit.” Sébastien looked at you with an empty, but seemingly loving stare, his lips pursed, before turning and thanking Yasmeen. Yasmeen walked away mouthing something to you. You assumed this was her approval, but assuming doesn’t get anyone anywhere.

“Thank you so much for ordering the coffee, darling,” he said with a smile. The way he said “darling” felt less like a filler pet name tacked on at the end of the sentence and more like a deliberate choice.

“Hell yeah, dude! It’s payback for the photos you sent me. Also because I love you.” Sébastien had sent you a few pictures of him in his werewolf form before your date with the attached message “I love you!!” That was the first love confession you had received in a while. He used more exclamation marks then you expected, but it was really cute.

The first thing you noticed when you opened the picture was his sense of aesthetic — sensible, if not a bit too minimalist. The second thing you noticed were his eyes, which were far more yellow than his human form. His fangs protruded out far further than most of the werewolves you’ve seen, his fur was mostly gray except for his white chest and tummy, and he was fluffy as shit. The only thing he didn’t show you was his cock, which you asked him to save for today.

“I love you too,” he said in a soft and light tone, which made you feel one too many emotions.

“I swear,” You said with a whisper and a lack of inhibition. “When I got to the last photo, the mirror selfie, I literally had to put my phone down because I was just like… that’s so hot.” He was wearing a pair of black boxer-briefs that didn’t do a great job of hiding his erection in the photo. “I saw your bed in the background and it shocked me how huge you were compared to it.”

“I’m not actually that tall in werewolf form, despite being 6 foot in real life. Most werewolves are, say, a foot larger.”

“Really?”

“I… I feel like that’s kinda common knowledge.”

You took a sip of your coffee. It was disgusting. You erred on the side of caution as you said: “What do you mean?”

“Have… have you never seen a werewolf before?”

You laughed, not because anything was particularly funny, or awkward, or even to relieve anxiety. You just laughed to have the noise out there. “Um..”

“Oh, God.”

“No.”

“WHAT.” Sébastien laughed, not deliriously or angrily but in pity. That isn’t what you were expecting. “How have you not… you did go to a shitty public school, huh?”

You were drinking coffee just to do something, and took a large gulp before speaking again. “I will not blame my upbringing on my ignorance, but yes.”

“Question, when do werewolves come out?”

“The full moon.”

“Really, darling?” He pitied you. “Were you born in the 1800s? How much funding did your health class get?”

“I didn’t have a health class.”

“Okay…” He rubbed his temples light-heartedly, you hoped. “Do you know what a period is?”

“Like… blood?”

“No, a werewolf period.”

“Explain.”

“This is common knowledge. This is what you learn when the kid you’re babysitting turns into a werewolf and you don’t realize so you call the hospital.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s my duty to explain this to you. Your information about what werewolves are is really wrong. You’re getting it from, like… fringe articles about the Dendera light bulb. People become werewolves for a few days a month.”

“Okay…?”

“Like a period cycle.”

You smiled, because you found a way to turn your anti-werewolf slight into horrible flirting. “I don’t think I understand. I might need hands-on experience. With a werewolf.”

Sébastien raised one eyebrow. “...Oh, thank fucking god, you’re just flirting.”

“Yeah. Definitely.”

“Yeah, of course I’ll show you, darling. I’ll do anything if you don’t scare me like that again.”

The full moon was going to come out, but it’s not like that mattered, because apparently werewolves aren’t controlled by the moon. Okay. Whatever. The sky had nothing else to offer you, anyway.

Sébastien put his viola case at the base of your bed and sat down. “I love your place, by the way,” he said. “You have a fire escape?”

“Those things are death traps,” you responded, laughing and putting your black coffee in the fridge. You would never end up drinking it and only through it out 2 months later to make place for Thai food. “I’m way too anxious about it to step on it.”

“You’re not that high up,” Sébastien said with an abrupt pause. He pursed his lips. “Not suggesting you risk your safety if you don’t want to. Just-”

“Nah, I get you.” You sat down next to him and took his hand. “God, I love you.”

“I love you too.” He breathed in a breath deeper than necessary, and stared at the ground. Uh-oh. “...Are we a thing, darling?”

“We’re multiple things: Human beings. Lovers. A French violist werewolf and a poor 1893 poet.” Sébastien glanced at you with an empty stare. “Hell yeah!”

“Nice.”

“Just gotta consummate it first,” you said.

“You’re a loser, darling.”

“Are we not gonna consummate it?”

“No, we will, you’re just a loser that’s bad at flirting.”

“I’ll take it.”

“That’s not the only thing you’ll take.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

Sébastien fell backwards onto the bed with his wonderful, beautiful, gross laugh, feet slightly dangled off. His tank top rose slightly and exposed his navel. “Alright, let me get these off and you can climb on, darling.” Sébastien put his thumbs into the hem of his sweatpants and pulled them to his feet. You were sad to see them go because they did particularly flatter him, but this sadness was replaced with a fluster when you saw his thighs.

His hips protruded out from his midriff with a strong curve, and his thighs were massive. Sébastien’s thigh and calf muscles were defined in a natural way, from time spent outside and on his feet. Almost his entire thigh was exposed by the short, black briefs he was wearing, and he had a nice amount of hair which grew in thickness as it got closer to the inner of his thigh. You could imagine the feeling of running your hands against it, and it was pure bliss. His bulge was nice and hefty and you just wanted to shove your face into it.

“Alright!” He said. You moved and adjusted yourself to be sitting on his thighs. This was the highest above him you had actually ever been, and you briefly pondered what you looked like from his perspective.

You reached to grab his hand, but before you could he had already taken your hand and placed it underneath his bulge. You lifted your hand and felt his balls as if trying to determine the weight of a bag of fruit, which was a weird comparison but was also the only thought in your head the entire time, besides: “fuck me.”

“You like that, huh?”

“It’s like I’m at a farmer’s market,” you said without thinking. He laughed.

“Oh, shut up. You are SUCH a loser.”

He placed his right hand onto the small of your back. You could feel his cock harden in your hand, the tip underneath his balls and lying against your palm. His cock began to stretch out the fabric of his underwear. He began to grind his dick against your hand and it grew even more, to what you estimated to be about eight inches. “Good. Good, good boy,” he said with a gruff voice.

Sébastien fixated his eyes onto yours and used his free hand to pull your head closer to his. “Wait,” he said. You felt Sébastien’s body stiffen and his grinding stop. “Oh, god, this is such a stereotype.”

You snorted. “What’s happening, dude?”

“I’m transforming.” He looked up at the ceiling and sighed. “I swear to God, darling, most werewolves don’t transform on the full moon. My cycle just happened to line up with it.” “I trust you, dude,” you responded back.

Sébastien smiled and pulled you in for a kiss. You closed your eyes and let him do his job. He pushed you down into the bed and climbed on top of you, maintaining a kiss the whole time. You put your hand down the back of his tank top and stroked, feeling the fur of a wolf grow in at a rapid pace. Your heart fluttered and you were almost too in awe of what you were feeling to do anything. It was soft and lovely to touch.

You felt the lips you were kissing become more furry and his tongue longer. His fangs grew in and pushed against the meat of your mouth, which was a foreign, but not painful experience. It became less kissing and more him licking at your mouth and face with a strong passion. You couldn’t even begin to imagine how it felt for him right now. A mixture of both of your spits ran down your face, and you could feel a cock far different from the one you felt before hitting against your midriff.

Opening your eyes, you saw a werewolf before you. He was much, much larger than you expected, and you didn’t just want to be fucked by this creature, but rather straddled and used as his personal cum dump. Sébastien pulled away from the kiss and you caught a glimpse of his dick, bright red and huge. Just one sight of his knot made you want to scream.

“How am I?” he said with a gross amount of confidence.

“Sébastien, fuck me.”

He was moving his ass left and right and his cock followed, the tip running against your midriff. His tail was straight in the air, although from where you were you could only see the tip of it. He took his hand, or rather, at this point, paw, and began to unbuckle your belt, careful to not destroy any fabric with his claws. He took your jeans and underwear off with one motion.

You could see his intentions without thought. The tip of his cock was leaking a clear fluid and already at the base of your asshole, just begging to push in and destroy you.

“Ready?” he asked.

“You did NOT lube me up, dude.”

“I- Well.” He stuck his tongue out, and it reached far further down than you expected. “Fine.” He bent down and licked your hole vigorously, lapping in and out as if he were drinking water from a bowl. Sébastien made a mess of spit down there, and you were ready.

The noise you made as he pushed his cock into you was both disgusting and ungodly.

“Are you-”

“Shut up and fuck me.”

He barked, and somehow there was a tinge of French in it. “Don’t talk to me like that.”

“Or what?”

Sébastien responded by pushing his cock a few inches further into you, stretching you out even further and rendering you unable to speak. He licked your nose and woofed. “Good boy.”

Sébastien went at you for the next few minutes, grunting the whole time. He held you down into the bed with his paws and pushed his doggy cock in and out of you, in and out, in and out. You could feel his knot slam against the base of your asshole, and you knew you wouldn’t be able to take it.

His pace quickened and his grunts started to turn into whimpers — desperate whimpers. He needed to dump his load into you and it needed to happen now. Your entire body had turned to nothing and you wouldn’t be able to move for the next several days, but you tried gripping the bed sheets anyway. It didn’t work.

You heard him howl and you felt his cum enter you. The neighbors would not like that.

He knotted you and you saw stars. Not in a positive sense, though. You didn’t see the literal stars you saw stargazing growing up, the stars that Manhattan didn’t have and that you so desperately wanted to see. You didn’t see Sirius, or Proxima Centauri, or the Pisces constellation. What you did see was your vision clouding from the pleasure of feeling his jizz fill you, the pain of his knot, and every other emotion humanly imaginable before you passed out.

You woke up to a tap from a claw and the horrible sensation of Sébastien pulling himself out of you. “Dklfhsdkfshj,” Sébastien said.

“What?” you responded.

“DKLFHSDKFSHJ.” Sure. Whatever. You were barely awake and didn’t care, and somehow managed to take a pillow and bury your face in it. You could feel a wetness on the inner parts of your thighs and the bedsheets below you, as well as your own on your stomach.

Sébastien took a fabric you were decently sure was his tank top and wiped up the seed he had left on you. It felt good, being pampered. Just the sensation of the touch of a human, or werewolf for that matter, could send you into a frenzy, so you were living the dream right now.

Sébastien reached over and took the pillow off of your face. “Oh, you did such a good job, darling. You’re such a good boy.”

You groggily smiled. The sun was just about to set and the lighting was actually beautiful for once in your life. An orange and pink glow emanated from Sébastien’s fur. He was still naked, although substantially less horny. The fur on his chest was so thick and furry that you just wanted to shove your face into it.

More of his nut left your body and he quickly wiped it up. “Yeah,” he said. “That’s not going to be fun.”

“How… how much did you...” you tried to ask.

“I’ve been pent up, alright?”

“I can tell.”

“Do you happen to have some spare… like… everything in my size?”

“You don’t prepare for changing size as a werewolf?”

“I wear elastic clothing before I become a werewolf, because I’m not a loser. Like you.”

“Hey.”

“I mean like underwear. And a tank top.”

“You just came so much, huh?”

“Do you want to have to wear clothes covered in massive amounts of dried wolf nut?”

“Fair point.”

You moved your hands to prop your body up, and while you expected to have a difficult time getting up you didn’t expect to yell from the pain.

“Sorry.” Sébastien pretended to be humble.

“You’re proud of this.”

“Yeah,” he snorted. “I know.”

Sébastien wrapped the blanket around you and adjusted you upright. You touched your hand to the bottom of his muzzle, pulled him in, and kissed him.

“I’m going to reheat my coffee from earlier. You want yours, darling?”

“No thanks.”

Sébastien bent over to take his coffee from the fridge, and the one benefit of living in a studio apartment was that you could see his ass as he did it. You couldn’t tell if he was deliberately moving in a promiscuous manner, but the sight of the lighter fur below his tail was wonderful. He put the coffee in the microwave and leaned against the counter, and for the first time you saw just how big he was. Sébastien crossed his arms and stared wistfully at you.

After a moment with only the sound of the microwave, he spoke. “Y’know what, darling, let’s go sit on the fire escape.”

“It’s almost dark. And it’s cold.”

“We can watch the moon come out, and I’m a giant fluffy werewolf if you don’t remember. We can take the blanket out if you want.”

“Oh, god, Sébastien, that would be so nice.”

Sébastien took his coffee out the microwave and picked you up, the blanket wrapped around you, and carried you over to the window. You were surprised by how easy this was for him, considering he was holding a hot coffee as well.

“You’re not even gonna cover your ass?” you asked.

“You’ll be covering up anything I can’t show to the public.”

“What if the people below us decide to have a nice, romantic evening on their fire escape, and they look up and see giant wolf butt?”

“If anything, that would be even more romantic.” You both laughed. “Fine.” He took the blanket and wrapped it around himself.

Sébastien opened the window and you felt a cold rush of air on your face. He climbed out, carrying both you and his coffee, and sat down on the ledge. You sat on his lap and could feel his soft member against you, although you definitely were not in the mood to take it. You told yourself you wouldn’t be able to take anybody ever again, although you knew that was a lie. Sébastien wrapped his arms around you, and you felt warmth everywhere except for your face. He put his paw onto the top of your head and started to pet.

“Are you cold, darling?” he asked. You could feel his bottom jaw hit the top of your head as he spoke.

“Nope!” You marveled at the sky in front of you. It was vast and empty except for the tops of buildings, and the sun was just about to go down. You sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, taking in the environment and general feeling of love.

Sébastien moved his paw from your head to your thigh, and continued petting. You broke the silence.

“Teach me some French.”

“In school, you’d start with the pronouns, so, I guess, ‘Je’ means ‘I.’ ‘Je.’” He said ‘Je’ with such a strong intent.

“No,” You laughed. “I mean like romantic things.”

“You don’t know ‘I love you’ already? ‘Je t’aime’?

“Je t’aime.” You spoke. You somehow couldn’t pronounce it correctly. “Je t’aime.”

“I love you too, darling, but the vowel in ‘Je’ is a schwa.” He demonstrated. You tried again and still pronounced it wrong. “You’ll get the hang of it eventually.”

You laughed and stroked your hand against his thigh, just to get to feel his fur even more. You felt him press his chest into your back.

Sébastien woofed a small woof and then you returned to your comfortable silence, watching the sun fall beneath the horizon. You realized you wouldn’t actually be able to see the moon rise if you were currently watching the sun set, but you didn’t want to say this out loud and break the atmosphere.

“I just realized we’re not gonna be able to see the moon.” Thank god Sébastien said it before you did.

“Hm.” You pushed your head back to be closer to Sébastien. He wrapped his arms around your chest.

“We can still look at the sky, even if it isn’t stargazing, per se.” He adjusted you slightly. “Like, look at the beep of the light on top of that tower. It’s beautiful in it’s own way.” “Yeah.” It really was. You smiled, overwhelmed by everything that was happening. “I love you.” “I love you too, darling.”

#exophilia #werewolf #werewolves #mlm #if u think u've seen this before #you probably have #i posted this here before but i lost the account #so im reposting it #6 months later

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sedehaven · 4 years

Text

How I Learned that it is Illegal to Hex People in Louisiana

Someone in a group chat asked about this story, and it’s a long one, so I figured I’d write it out and share it with the world.

I live in a gentrifying trailer park in Louisiana. That means that we still have problems with meth dealers, child molesters, and non-potable water, but we also have a gate and like 4? Air BnBs...

This story, though, is from before we started gentrifying. Around 2011. My grandmother died in 2010, and I’d just moved home after inheriting the trailer.

This trailer park used to be owned by a guy named John the Slumlord. John (not the gentrifying sort) inherited 1/3 of an acre of land from his dad, and built this trailer park. That was back in 1976 or so. My grandparents moved there in late 1978. This is the place that I was brought home to after I was born. We buried two cats, three dogs, and spread my grandfather’s ashes in the backyard. This is HOME.

I’m a witch, and a capable one. Not the magic-up-millions sort of witch, but the bring-nearly-deceased-kitten-back-from-the-dead, find-twenty-dollars-that-we-desperately-need, this-plant-will-help-a-burn (and, on one memorable occasion, give-horrible-carpet-bagging-yankee-whore-of-an-aunt-a-tumor) sort of witch. I’m one of those that--if we ever manage to escape this place--is going to have to take a coffee can of earth with me.

Because this is HOME.

I used to have a cousin who lived with me. His name was not Dipshit, but that’s good enough for this story. Dipshit had terrible taste in friends. One of the people in the park that he met was a low-level gangster that we’ll call Couillon for this story. Because he is one.

(Yes, there are gangs in the country. They’re heavily armed and they run drugs.)

Couillon needed a ride out to New Iberia. He offered us gas money for it, and my GF (who is the only one in this story who drives--except John the Slumlord) says sure. In order to make sure that we know he’s legit, he shows us his CAJUN COONASS tattoo.

If you learn one thing from this, know that Coonass is not a slur. It refers to poor whites in Cajun country, and is a shortening of “folks hungry enough to eat a raccoon’s asshole.” You’ve learned a thing. Good.

So, Couillon shows us this blackletter monstrosity across his back to show that he’s The Real Deal. That he is Not Playing Around.

My GF is from New Orleans. She is not impressed.

So we bring the dude out to his rendez-vous, where he was supposed to be getting a job of some sort. I know this because he. Would. Not. Stop. Talking. Through the whole trip. 45 minutes of what crimes he’d done, who he knew, and what a BIG SHOT that he was.

The dude had three teeth left and wanted to think he was Al Capone South.

Y’all.

We dropped him off and drove home. We sent Dipshit to collect the gas money the next day.

Shock to nobody at all, he didn’t have it.

A week later, he didn’t have it.

I told Dipshit to tell Couillon that he had until the next full moon to pay me, or I’d hex him.

This lead to Couillon showing up at my doorstep, demanding my gris-gris credentials.

My porch looks like the haunted house porch from movies. It’s cluttered with weird and unidentifiable stuff because Dipshit fancied himself a tinker. He was actually a hoarder, so lots of rust and lots of weird. I’d inherited the place from my grandmother, so a fair bit of windchimes as well.

The porch was not what convinced him. The dripping Pagan iconography did not convince him. I drew myself up to my full 5′6″ height and told him that I was taller than him.

Y’all.

Fun fact -- most dudes think that they’re taller than most chicks. Even with firm evidence that they are not. Also, most Cajuns are small. Couillon is about 5′4″. If I’m feeling generous.

Couillon decides that I am The Real Deal because I *suddenly* got taller than him. I used my devil powers to make him believe I was small.

Y’all.

Dude nearly trips over his own shitty sneakers getting down my porch and out of my yard.

I figured that’s the end of it. He’d pay us and we’d be done.

Nope.

Couillon tattled on me to John the Slumlord, which leads to a screaming confrontation on my porch. John has about four inches on me, and about 100 lbs. He was a farm boy. He’s about 70 years old, and absolutely terrifying.

The takeaway was, Couillon was a dangerous man who was out of prison (for murder) temporarily, awaiting sentencing for (a separate) assault and attempted murder (!!!), and John the Slumlord wanted a quiet park. (Dipshit has terrible taste in friends!) John the Slumlord did not want a convicted murderer (!!!) banging on his truck when he was rolling around the park and demanding protection from a witch. John the Slumlord finished by saying that he didn’t want a witch in HIS park and he’d evict me if I hexed any more of his renters. And he’d have the law on his side.

I had not, at this point, hexed anybody.

This was my HOME. He was threatening my HOME.

I did Google the law, and it was on John the Slumlord’s side. Hexing is illegal in the state. It’s also illegal in the city, but not in the parish. We weren’t TECHNICALLY in city limits, but still...

We’re past the statute of limitations on hexing (2-5 years, depending on which law), so I can tell you.

I hexed the crap out of Couillon. I made a witch bottle and buried that bitch deep down in the earth of my HOME.

After the full moon, Couillon had a heart attack and broke his hip falling. (Osteoporosis is a fun side-effect of long term drug abuse.) He was convicted of the assault and attempted murder. As far as I know, he’s still in prison.

John the Slumlord sold the park to an axe-crazy millionaire. I could write a novel about the hijinks of THAT man.

As for ol’ John himself? Last I heard, he’s got a tumor.

Bless his heart. He didn’t say anything about evicting me for hexing HIM.

#true story #prose #proseriot #writers on tumblr #louisiana #witchraft #paganism

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colorfullfalls · 4 years

Text

Force Knows Best

Summary: after infinity war, life is in shambles, but to make things even more complicated, the first order decides to visit. kylo ren is in search.. for you.

5. Welcome Home

Kylo put his helmet back on, security of his anonymous face and power. The guards surrounded you two as you left the doors, walking up a few step to enter the bigger ship, your apparent new home. People in the halls glanced your way, curious to see the woman that Kylo Ren was hell bent on finding. His glove found your bicep again, pulling you closer, shielding you by the mere size and strength of his being. You felt tiny, like a child compared to the Supreme Leader. Echoing footsteps followed behind you, irritating you. He sensed your discomfort.

"Leave us." Kylo barked, and the white plastic covered men split off without skipping a beat. Commanding people made goose bumps appear on your skin, how could he be so harsh with them? Treat them as dogs rather than human beings- well if they were humans, for all you knew they could be different alien races. The mask allowed for mystery, and you were not a fan.

Hallways turned until you were in front of two tall red doors, contrasting the black vast area of walls, floors, and ceiling. Kylo's chambers were different and more extravagant compared to the rest on the ship, afterall he deserved a treat for ruling planets and the Galaxy. His hand freed itself from the black glove and rested his palm against a glass scanner, it shone red before a click was heard and he was grabbing you, pulling you in behind him. Doors shut with a harsh slam and lights turned on, illuminating the large common room.

It was so.. him, multi shaded grey tile covered the floor beneath your feet, a leather black sectional sat against the wall, which was also painted grey, red stands sat on either side of the sectional with a black coffee table directly in front of it. A tv like screen, bigger than any normal one of Earth, splayed against the left wall facing the sectional. Five different rooms branched away from the one you were in. You kicked your shoes off, shifting the bag in your hands to rest against your legs. Kylo noticed and took it from you, nodding at you to follow him. Furthest right was your bedroom, well Kylo's. A king size black bed sat in the middle of the room, plush red pillows covering by the white headboard. You yearned to lay down and sleep, your day was pretty hectic already and it wasn't even night. Not that you could tell because in space it was always dark. He dropped your bags on the bed and took off his mask.

"All that is here belongs to you now."

Kylo's voice was sturdy, but a sense of anxiety slipped past his teeth and rolled off of his pink tongue. You quirked an eyebrow at the man before you. Weary of him you were, but at the end of the day he was human. You wondered if that mattered, humans on Earth did vicious crimes all the time, cops barely covered providing safety, and even shield wore itself thin at times.

"Thanks, you know freedom once belonged to me.." you sarcastically replied, waving around the space between his large body and your stressed out one. His gaze adverted to the wall, jaw clenched uncomfortably hard, frustration almost besting him in the worst possible moment.

"I can give you anything you desire. Luxurious gowns, jewelry, planets, creatures, plants, all in my grasp. What can I do to please you?" His voice was desperate, a yearning to make you happy above all else. He spent years searching helplessly for you, and now that he had you, you hated him. Hated him for taking the one thing that mattered most to him, what belonged to him in an intricate way. You. Joining your souls together was not a mistake and he certainly would not apologize for doing what the force meant to happen, but your sorrow did guilt him. He loved you, as foolish as it seemed from the outside.

But to him, it made all the sense. Kylo visited your thoughts and body day after day while hunting for you. He knew the type of woman you were, your thought process, how easily your fragile feelings could be hurt, how you fiercely loved those close to you, how you preferred grape jelly over strawberry, how your clumsy manner often left you bruised-much to his disliking, and he memorized all of these in great detail. You were an extension of him and he wanted to know you inside and out, and at this point he did. But now that you were in grasp, he needed you to love him back.

As soon as he had his first dream about you, his gut told him that you were his other half, far far away from him in the most unfortunate way. He vowed to make one complete being, promptly begining his journey to find you. The Force allowed him to visit you, but the touch and occasional dream of him was the only hint you got, not enough information to warn you of your impending future.

"None of that would please me, Kylo. I agreed to come because you weren't going to leave otherwise. War plaques Earth enough without the First Order involved. Gifts will not fix the pain, and you are stupid to think it would."

"I want you to be joyful." Such a phrase could be taken the wrong way, read as he was commanding you to feel an emotion, but he was not, he was vocalizing his goal to you in lame terms, horrible at portraying feelings with spoken sounds.

"Well, I'm not." His eyes saddened and you felt unfair guilt, "Maybe one day, but right now- no, joy isn't a friend of mine."

"I am the Supreme Leader, a powerful man, and I do what I wish without protest. Listening to anyone is not my skill, but with you, I am trying. Trying because of who you are to me," He picked up his helmet and traced the face of it, big fingers coming together to flick it before honey brown eyes met yours, a hard stare, an unapologetic one, "Retrieving what's mine is not apology worthy, it had to be done. Hate me if it makes you feel better, I suppose."

Fire bristled along your arms, blue flames dancing involuntarily. How dare he act like he did you both a favor by snatching you up like a stray dog on the road. Being bound seemed like a different way of saying soulmates. And even if the two of you completed one soul, one half still belonged to you. He didn't own your half, he should be thankful that he has such a connection with another being, but he was acting like a mad man.

His eyes adverted to your arms, new small holes exposed the skin, your shirt burning from the use of powers. Your fireproof suit was in your bag, you had taken it off when you packed your belongings. Usually your powers were in control, but being around Kylo made new levels of emotions, mostly anger, appear.

"My goal from now on is to knock you down a peg. You're human, and I will remind you of it everyday." You mumbled.

"I will remind you, little one, that you are where you belong. With me. By my side. Forever."

"Forever is suddenly my least favorite word." Your heart fluttered at how honest and raw his words were when he spoke to you, but hating him was your angle at the moment and you had to stick with it. His shaggy black hair swept in tuffs over his forehead, strikingly similar to the lines over his long scar on his face that led down to his neck. A well formed neck, you thought. Being so attracted to someone you should hate was foreign to you. Something in books and movies, but not real life. Now it was happening in a space ship in the sky, miles away from home, your life reduced to a romcom movie, a hate to love story.

"Each hateful word you throw my way, my adoration will only increase." Kylo dropped his helmet back on the bed and shrugged at your hazy expression. You were torn between hating him and wanting to accept his words, "Try all you may, you cannot deter me, we are meant to last."

"You've stated that fact multiple times today, look, I don't get why this force picked me to be the one who you're bound with, we are vastly different."

Kylo sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in annoyance because it seemed that you weren't getting it, "The force would not make a mistake. You make me stronger, and vice versa."

"How do you know I'm the one?"

He grabbed your hand, slotting his large fingers in between your tiny ones in comparison, skin blazing heavenly at the contact. You felt drunk, the best kind where happiness takes over and you feel invincible, on top of the world where nothing can drag you down. Like friends are talking, but it's hard to make out from all the laughing and bubbly dancing to shitty bar songs, but you're happy because it's perfect. You feel giddy but attempt to suppress it because these feelings are not valid, he is a murder. He holds up the intertwined hands, an example of your ridiculous question. Kylo Ren would not lie about his bond with you, never lie to you about anything.

"My body cradles yours in every way because we were born to be one." He rubbed his thumb across your hand, making you blush, pushing him to step closer to get more of a reaction from you.

"Why is there- my body, I just feel like.. like" you tried to explain the intense sensation, but failed miserably. He gave you an understanding gaze, smirking at the fact that you felt a fragment of the bond, the pull to be close.

"Alluring, isn't it, little one? The Force is letting us know that we found eachother. In time it will feel normal."

His fingers left yours to push your hair behind your ear, but you snapped out of the trance. Distraction to move away, suitcases opened and hands shuffled through clothing and items, looking for a new shirt to wear. Burning the current one was embarrassing and changing would wash away the mistake that you just made. Years of training for control over yourself crumbled like bridges during high degree earthquakes, crashing down around the man who you were forever stuck with. A grey hoodie from the bottom was plucked from your hands and into Kylo's. He turned it over in curiosity.

"What is this?"

You rolled your eyes, grabbing it back in defense, the hoodie was the one thing you owned compared to his fleet of ships and planets, "Hoodie. Wear it for warmth.. so where's the bathroom, I need to change."

He pointed to a black door left of where you stood and you nodded curtly, entering and getting out of his sight, gaining a second alone. Pitiful holes surrounded what was once cloth covering skin. Pale flesh teased you, a reminder that was gone when you ripped the shirt up over your head, hoodie slipping on instead. Warm, reliable, comfy, home smelling hoodie. A mirror rested above the sink, reflecting you in the bright bathroom lighting. How could you let him hold your hand like that? Knock a wall down that he didn't deserve to witness.. His bond touch was unfair to use, it went went against your mind. Tears that you were unaware of previously dripped down your face, dampening your chin, baby hairs sticking grossly to the area. Crying was a rebirth, a chance to let it all out and restart again. It felt good to sob on the bathroom floor, to lean against the wall for support.

Time passed and you cried, emptying bottled up confusing emotions. Kylo stood outside the door listening, chest tightening at the wretched gasps for air as you bawled, his heart thudding with every sound. Kicking open the door and holding you was his idea, but he was scared to push you even further away. He wasn't stupid, he realized you didn't trust him yet. Crying in the bathroom was a personal thing for you to cope, and intruding would embarrass you. After the hand holding moment he assumed the road ahead was easy but now he was not so sure.

At the same time hiding in there to cry angered him. Why couldn't you melt into his embrace and allow him to ease your pain? No one was more suited for the duty than him, your equal in life, your other half. Kylo did not let people in, he didn't like the attachment and risk, but you were the one who it was acceptable to confide in, to show vulnerability. Dark force was in his genes, and it would never leave, but you would see the better side of him. Not that he wouldn't ever upset you or go against your wishes, but you were going to be the closest to him, his weakness. Reaching out in the only way he could, he closed his eyes and used the force to seek you.

Dry tears crusted your cheeks, despair eating away at your insides, when a swirling feeling rested on your upper arm, sliding up and stroking your chin. The swirling morphed into an invisible hand that wiped moisture away with gentle caresses. Matter of the fact was that Kylo was reaching out to comfort you in the way he had in the past. Grudgingly you pulled away, but a dull pain of struck your heart, leaning more into the invisible hand.

"Open the door." His voice called out. You ignored him, head falling backwards to rest against the wall behind you. The touch vanished and you heard the main door slam. Kylo stalked off, helmet on and anger active heading towards his knights for Intel on Thanos. His knights roamed the galaxies, if anyone knew about the purple titan, it would be them.

Eventually you crawled out of the bathroom and pulled the blankets back on the bed. His pillows surrounded you, shielding you from the air coming from the vents. Dark endless space peeked through the two small windows of his room, allowing it to feel like bed time rather than evening. It was enough because within minutes you were zonked.

Kylo sensed utter tranquility from you, calming him down. His emotions were hard enough to handle, but being so near to you caused all of yours to mix with his, making your crying suffocating, which made him mad, but when you were asleep he could level himself a bit.

"Sweet dreams, little love", Kylo whispered in your mind as he stood in front of his kneeling, ever so loyal, knights.

#starwars #starwars imagine #kylo ren #kylo ren imagine

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itsclydebitches · 4 years

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Let me start by saying that I love all of your meta and analysis soooo much especially the ones about Ozpin. I was curious to hear what what do you think are some legit motally grey things/mistakes he did, not the garbage the haters love to throw around. The only things I can think of are either in an impossible situation with only shitty options (where I don't really consider the decisions as immoral since morality needs agency and the chance of a better choice) like with Pyrrha and Oscar (1/2)

Thank you, anon! And honestly? I couldn’t agree more. I often say that Ozpin has made mistakes partly so that people don’t blow off the points I’m trying to make with, “Oh an Ozpin stan. Ignore her, she thinks he can do no wrong and thus can’t provide an objective opinion.” But honestly? Not all mistakes are created equal. There are mistakes one makes because they’re selfish, foolish, didn’t bother to take precautions---things that are preventable and therefore invite heavy criticism and an acknowledgment of responsibility. However, there are also mistakes that, as you say, are simply outside of your control. You don’t have the information available to make an informed and therefore better choice, or you simply just have bad choices from the get-go. For me, the vast majority of Ozpin’s mistakes are the latter.

Overall, I think the largest mistake he bears responsibility for is prioritizing his love for Salem over basic ethics. AKA, choosing to become a wannabe god with her and encouraging this mentality that they are intrinsically superior to everyone else in Remnant. Granted, there are many other factors involved in this, including Salem’s status as a creature now consumed by darkness (she was heading down this road no matter what Ozpin may have done differently) as well as her abuse towards Ozpin, her manipulation, and the sheer overwhelming terror of the goal Light set him. Which just reinforces that all Ozpin’s mistakes are understandable to one extent or another. He’s human and his mistakes resonate because, if people are honest with themselves, they’d probably admit, “Yeah. If I found the love of my life again I’d be tempted to ignore Light’s warning about her too. If I was offered a life of luxury and power under the guise of protecting the people, I might cave and go along with that as well...” We get how Ozpin got to that point, we may admit we couldn’t have done better, but we likewise understand that the man he became, regardless of how he got there---from natural human desires to abuse---isn’t okay. As Oz and his host ask themselves, “What are we doing?” And we see how he comes back from that edge. How he rejects that sort of power later when it’s offered to him after the Kingdoms were reunited. Ozpin learned from his mistakes.

Which adds further complications to his choices in the present day. Just as Ozpin learned that the world doesn’t need him as an all-powerful figurehead, he likewise learned that sharing secrets leads to nothing but the worst kind of consequences. The first time he reveals what he’s hiding? His wife announces that she’s going to take over the world, then murders their children, then him. A more recent time he reveals information? A very close friend betrays him to said wife. Tries to kill him. Nearly kills his allies. Is eventually killed himself. The latest time he was forced to reveal information? People are shouting, grieving, he’s punched into a tree, the one friend still at his side completely rejects him.

The fandom points to Ozpin’s lies and secret keeping among the group as his greatest mistakes and yes, objectively I agree. Without context I can say no, he shouldn’t have made a promise if he didn’t intend to keep it. He should have just told them that there were questions left, or that the relic attracted grimm. But the thing is that context is there and it always matters. I’ve spoken before about how I think Ozpin made that promise with precisely zero expectation that he’d ever be put into a situation where he might conceivably break it, that I’d also hesitate to tell a group that there were invaluable questions left when they were clearly eager to use them recklessly (which they then did), and that keeping the grimm aspect secret was the only logical course of action because telling them would just attract more. But even ignoring all of the potential justifications attached to each choice, I simply don’t believe we can ignore Ozpin’s trauma. I might not have lied to people like that, but I haven’t been horrifically traumatized for a thousand years whenever I do tell someone information. Ozpin has been conditioned not to tell people and though yes, everyone technically has free will, trauma like that will “force” you to take what you perceive as the only safe option. It fucks with your perception and your understanding of what even is an option in this situation. Ozpin simply no longer has the ability to go, “I’ll trust them!” like the others around him do and their reactions certainly didn’t help teach him otherwise. Imagine that for a thousand years you’re punched every time someone lifts their hand. Then someone you’ve just met demands that you stop flinching whenever they raise theirs. No matter how much you may want to stop, you can’t. Not immediately on someone else’s order. The human experience doesn’t work that way.

(As a side note, the reason why I emphasize a thousand years so much is because I believe the extent of the trauma and its implied consistency is really relevant here. As is the close tie between that trauma and Ozpin’s choices. There are many other characters out there who I don’t believe “But they had a hard life!” excuses their actions: Snape, Bakugo, recently what I’ve read of Yennefer---among others. It’s notable to me that Ozpin didn’t endure traumatic events by revealing information and then, say, go abuse his students for years. Or tell someone to kill themselves. Or take over someone else’s mind. Not only is his trauma more extensive than the vast majority of characters we meet, but he hasn’t used that trauma as an excuse to get away with horrific---and unrelated---choices. The love of my life rejected me and then died... so I’m going to abuse eleven-year olds under my care. My mom is demanding and people cater to me too much... so I’m going to gleefully beat up my weakest classmate. I dealt with being ugly for a good chunk of my life and now can’t have kids... so I’m going to take away someone’s autonomy and endanger a whole town. Unlike most other characters with tragic backstories, Ozpin has a one-to-one correlation between that hard life and the mistakes he’s made: people hurt me when I tell them things... so I just won’t tell them things. By keeping that strong connection it eliminates the possibility that Ozpin is just using his trauma as an excuse (knowingly or otherwise) and he is, notably, still a good person beyond those very specific choices. We see his horror at the decisions he has to make. We see his endless attempts to be as kind towards others as possible. We see how much he’s fought not to allow his trauma to warp him into a person he’d despise. A person like Salem. Just like not all mistakes are created equal, for me not all people making mistakes are equal either. I’m less likely to forgive your mistakes if you’re an all around horrible person. You’re clearly a good person trying your best? Your mistakes are easier to stomach and, as discussed above, I’m more inclined to assume that these mistakes stem from things outside of your control. If someone who has been nothing but cruel to me lied I’d automatically be pissed. If someone who has been nothing but kind to me lied, I’m inclined to ask them why they did that, expecting that there’s a good reason attached to that decision.)

So did Ozpin make mistakes? Technically yes, but I think they were mistakes largely outside of his control. Either he only had shit options available to him or he was in a position where the group demanded something of him that his mental health simply wouldn’t allow. People have to remember that we’re not Ozpin (insert obligatory, “He’s fictional” here). We have more options available to us when it comes to our choices, simply by means of not having gone through what he has. His choices are always limited, both by outside factors and his own experiences, and they likewise always have inevitable downsides. Ozpin doesn’t get the luxury of choosing anything that turns out well.

As a final note, with Volume 7 underway I’d say that another potential mistake has been introduced: making Pyrrha the Fall Maiden. Meaning, unless the story reveals that Winter actually can’t become the next Winter Maiden due to her age (unlikely given that others have said the non-canonical age limit is 30), it raises the question of why he’d choose a 17 year old over a 20-some graduate. However, to me this is pretty clearly a writing issue. The creators were more concerned with keeping the story revolved around RWBYJNR than they were the implications of having Ozpin choose Pyrrha over a more suitable adult. So though yes, I’d technically consider that another mistake.... obviously not much Ozpin could do against his own creators lol.

Which finally leads to me saying that although Rooster Teeth seems to want us to believe that Ozpin is a morally gray character, they haven’t succeeded in writing one well. That characterization requires a fair balance between what most would consider “good” and “bad” traits. Not a good person presented with only bad choices. Or a character so horrifically conditioned that his ability to make a better decision is almost impossible. We wouldn’t call a person who was manipulated or forced into doing bad things a morally gray character, nor would we use that term if, somehow, they were sick and that led to those choices. That’s how I view Ozpin, mentally as opposed to physically sick. After a thousand years he needs evidence that trusting people and giving them his secrets won’t result in him being hurt. Until he’s shown that, expecting him to trust people just because they insist they are trustworthy is like asking someone with a broken leg to run you a race. They can try, but good look expecting them to succeed.

#rwby #rwby volume 7 #rwby volume 7 spoilers #long post #mymetas #Anonymous

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quackspot · 4 years

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i started thinking about that gay bastard oc of yours. platano. can u tell me about him

omg u wer thinkgin about platano..... mr banana man... mr 4011. i am obsessed with the banana code srry i just got back from work (it was good :-D)

any way. um. im going below the cut. he kidnaps people and he murders people and i hate him because he’s also a massive weeb so. hm

HISTORY OF PLATANO... yea his name is spanish for banana

his father, pablo, will probably get a name change someday but i literally never think of his father since the only thing he did in platano’s backstory was disappear

since platano’s world has characters based off like. fruits and vegetables (there aren’t really any limit to what the characters are based off of. it was in my lazy google translate name phase so we have like... a gay character named arcenciel who becomes dadlike through my powerful canon-changing touch. also arcenciel wears the colors of the rainbow as often as he can i haven’t figured out a good design for him since i’m not used to using more than 5 colors. he also owns a hat factory)

i think arcenciel and platano are friends they met when platano was like. 17 probably and arcenciel would be around uhhhhh ummmmmmm 21??? idk man but in canon he’s probably around 30 . yes i m saying “in canon” because i wrote a really dumb and horrible story back in 2018 arcenciel used to have HUGE internalized homophobia and i turned that into a running joke and i dislike that so that’s a reason why i’m not sharing the fun little story i wrote for my friends

(the best part of that story is when arcenciel threw his light-up rainbow heelies at platano, thus starting the boss fight which the main cast LOST.)

ok back to the topic at hand. platano.

i have a whole doc named platano where i just wrote drabbles about him so i’m going to summarize them

the first one was his friend, percisi (my only cishet oc he’s very short and very aggressive while also dressing in a soft-colored turtleneck since he’s based off of peaches) using a misunderstood form of satanism to summon satan. guess what percisi and platano summoned satan for. it was a manga update! wow

i won’t say the mangas name it was an inside joke

so platano was like “hey satan can i have this manga now please please” and satan went “sure just kill people for me”

that determined platanos job for the next 7 or so years <3 wonderful.

(it was basically me writing a backstory for a scene to happen in the main writing i wrote for my friends. he killed someone because someone else in the building was trying to summon satan. very confusing but okay i guess.)

i think right after that i wrote about platano meeting his boyfriend, sage, for the first time. i have horribly mixed feelings about their relationship since it’s very. Hm.

so platano kidnaps people to watch anime with him because all his friends left him and his best friend, mangue, is too busy being a dictator over the Land of the Fruits. i shit you not fruits oppressed the vegetables. i wrote that dynamic between the two because i was learning about the revolutionary war in US History. something like that at least

(the Land of the Fruits is not the official name)

on the topic of kidnapping people. guess who his favorite person was. sage. it was sage. so he tried to take sage often but they probably discussed Proper boundaries since everyone else tried to run away. hmm i am now going to write a bit right now

“Platano,” Sage started. “Why do you keep kidnapping me? It’s rude and I hate it.”

“What else am I supposed to do?” The yellow-haired fool leaned on his sword, digging the tip deeper into the ground.

“ASK ME IF I WANT TO HANG OUT??”

“I can do that?”

“You keep making my dads worried.” Sage looked around the area, fidgeting with his hands.

“Oh. Okay. Want to hang out? Watch some anime?” Platano paused for a moment, but managed to say “Maybe kiss?” before Sage got to answer.

“I- KISS??? We can watch anime together. We can go now.”

Sage ushered Platano through a portal as fast as he could.

His dads were never worried.

hmmm maybe that’s alright idk i’m a little tired so it’s probably a little out of character. sage probably isn’t that loud but i think it was trying to be the dynamic of “oh, we’re not dating” when they kiss every sunday at 5 pm by a romantic river scene

he’s a character who is, at his very core, horrible and bad. he is portrayed in a way i DESPISE but i’m too lazy to correct it. his interest in sage actually started with me going “hmm i think platano would draw sage like this” then sauce giving me fun facts about his oc, sage, yea sage is sauce’s oc <3 epic win . so sauce gave me fun facts about sage and i was like “time to doodle these in platanos ‘art style’” when in reality it’s just the mockery of people just getting into an anime art style, with the chin so pointy it could cut a cake

i might reread my old writing from 2018. i gotta agree with the judges for that year i did not write very well

it mightve actually been made in 2017 which would be FUCKIN CRAZY im gonna check rn

yea it was started in 2018. february 14th... huh . finished it completely in june of that year it was 41 pages total and it’s not even double spaced how did i write something without double spacing it

OH MY GOD BOB IS GOING TO HIJACK THIS RANT JUST FOR A LITTLE

so bob is a fluffy little anthro cloud with a grey top hat and bowtie. he is amazing. i love bob. bob is another one of sauce’s character and mangue (mentioned earlier) was made by my friend jamie

(you can always ask for their tumblrs but i’d ask them if its okay to share their tumblrs. i might just look at them and reblog their stuff cuz i like their art!!! maybe jamie posted a drawing she made recently on her blog but tbh i don’t think she would she’s more of a twitter user)

ok so im skimming thru UMG which is the story it stands for “Universe of Magic Gardens” and it was originally made for a prank on ponytown so people would go “what’s UMG” and my friends and i would be like “ur mom gay xDDDDDD” or something like that . horrible but i’m glad i’ve changed from . that.

here’s a bit i actually like AKLJFISJFIO

“What the actual FUCK, Ilkie?!” Arcenciel cringed in fear. “Put it back- it’s too ugly.” He pointed at Platano, whose arms were crossed.

why is it bolded. anyway.

i just saw a part where eau used y’all... water cowboy moments <333 i really need to make refs for all of those old characters. all of my umg-related characters have to be my oldest-living ocs.

i cant believe this is making me genuinely reread my old writing just to go “WJHFSIDAJKSFIOJ WTF????”

some of the lines on it sound like something you would hear on like. a school bus or somethin

looking at umg like “wtf how did i add so much Meat to this writing” bc most of my writing now is mostly quotations to progress the story (like the quickie i wrote earlier. i could add meat to it but im tired lol)

OK THIS IS MORE GENERAL BUT MY FAVORITE THING ABOUT THIS WAS WRITING HAIKUS FOR PORTALS. after you visit a place enough times it’s kind of just an instinct to open a portal there so you don’t have to recite a haiku

uhh ok here’s another bit becuase im feeling like living la vida loca. ur biggest regret should be “can you tell me about him” by this point bc i’ve written too much to go back now

He landed on his face once he was outside of the hat. Meko quickly walked over to the guest room, opened the Portals for Dummies book, and flipped to a page. It looked devious.

“Banana, mango,

Each tasting amazingly.

A taste of evil.”

Meko did the dance on the page, it consisted of something that looks like it’s from an anime. A portal opened, the familiar scent of bananas and mangoes coming from it. With some hesitation, Meko stepped in. He quickly made it so only his head peeked in.

it wasnt bolded this time but i like it bolded. ok i understand how i added meat it was just shitty expired meat ALKFSJSHDAIUJKFEIODSJAK . it wasnt even that much meat DAMN. it just looked like more.

actually that’s all i will write. i could do more w platano but yea at his base he is a blonde twink who kills people because he wanted a manga but now he’s friends with a dictator. woo! wow. amazing character writing. i cant wait to get motivation to rewrite everything and make platano a good villain (he will still be very interested in anime sadly. idk why around that time i liked making characters who were obsessed with anime i didn’t even watch it much myself. i think it was because i wanted to put capes on them)

#I REALLY WENT SLIGHTLY OFF-TOPIC #like i went broader then refocused in at the end #so if you want the basics its just. right at the end #my brain's out of work mode now it's going into the deepfry machine #melon-official

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imastrangeone98 · 4 years

Text

Lost and Found - Chapter 13: Dante

(A/N: chapter 12 took a while to write... sorry about that. this also took a while to write... again, I am sorry. midterm season is here and I need to get ready for all the shitty essays I'm about to pull out of my ass XD. I'm now simultaneously writing for two stories- this one and bnha... maybe three if I'm considering the mandalorian... yea I just love putting work on myself)

TRIGGER WARNING: brief description of murder and suicide. nothing graphic, but it’s mentioned. again, I cannot emphasize this enough- plz don’t hurt yourself. you’re worth more than you can imagine, and there are so many people who care and love you. faith loves you! <3

(ps this will follow the same key as the last chapter- italics for memories, bold for memory within the memory, and normal for present events)

I found this poem on Pinterest- I think it’s pretty accurate

It felt like hours.

Logically, Dante knew that it was probably shorter than that- maybe half an hour, at most.

But as he stared down at the three glimmering shards in his palm, he felt as if time had stood still as he remembered-

“Please don’t do this,” Faith pleaded to her friend, arms outstretched. “There’s nothing wrong with who you are!”

The boy just gave her a sad smile. “You’re wrong, Faith. Everything’s wrong with me. Everything.”

His feet slipped on the railing-

“Leave me and go,” Vergil spat, clutching his amulet to his chest, “if you don’t want to be trapped in the demon world.”

And Dante watched helplessly as his only family slipped through his fingers, watched as his twin sailed to his death with a smile on his face-

As if he was happy to leave him behind. As if he was happy to abandon him.

Dante flinched. The shards nearly spilled to the bone-laden ground, and he brought them close to his chest.

“You don’t understand anything.”

He gritted his teeth. His grip on the shards tightened.

“You know nothing of what I went through!”

His fists clenched, and he considered punching himself in the face.

He messed up.

Thoughts clouded his vision so heavily that he almost walked past the shard.

Almost.

The whispers caught his attention.

“...hide...”

He stumbled towards it.

“...don’t leave until...”

He reached out to grab it-

He was stuffed in a small cabinet, a little girl sitting next to him. The soft light above was blocked out by the tall figure squatting in front of them.

“Listen to me, 믿음아,” the man whispered, gently cradling the girl’s face in his hands. “You need to stay here and hide. Don’t leave until I come back to get you, okay? Promise?”

Dante looked at the little girl, and noted her unmistakeable golden eyes. He was surprised to see how animated they were.

“Where are you going, 아빠?” she asked as she reached out to grab his hand. “Am I in trouble?”

“No, honey,” he reassured her. “I just need to check that loud noise we heard earlier. I promise I’ll be back.”

“I need to find Vergil. I promise I’ll be back.”

Dante’s head ached.

“믿음아, listen very carefully to what I’m about to say,” her father said. “No matter what happens, don’t come out until I come to get you. And if I don’t come back, wait for 30 minutes- remember how to count time?- and run to Ms. Baxter’s as fast as you can. Don’t stop for anyone, understand?”

“You need to hide, Dante. No matter what happens, you mustn’t leave! Be a big boy... A man, huh? If I don’t return, you must run. By yourself, alone.”

His heart felt about as heavy as boulders.

“What do you mean, 아빠?”

“Promise me. Pinky promise.”

They linked their pinkies.

“Are you coming back?” Little Faith asked.

“...Yes, I will,” her father assured her. His voice trembled as he spoke.

Dante knew instantly that he was lying. He wouldn’t come back alive. He wouldn’t come back at all.

Just like his mother.

It was dark and quiet in the cabinet. Little Faith sat silently, her hands folded neatly in her lap. Though there was no smoke, Dante’s lungs felt like they were about to collapse.

And then they heard the screams. Muffled, full of pain, just like-

Just like his mother.

Little Faith tensed. “Daddy...” She pried open the cabinet door.

Dante froze. “No!” He reached out to grab her, but his hands phased through. “No, don’t!”

She would see the blood. The glassy eyes. The cold skin. The death.

Just like he did.

“Faith! Wait!” He phased through the cabinet door and ran after her, watched as she snuck out the door, watched as she carefully approached the shadowed lump on the floor-

His nose wrinkled. The air stank of death.

“아빠?” Little Faith nudged the body of her dead father. “Are you sleeping?”

Dante moved close to her and kneeled next to the body. Words bounced around his mind, but none of them went close to his mouth.

I understand, he wanted to say. I understand now.

I was wrong.

“아빠,” she repeated, nudging her father harder. “It’s cold outside, let’s go back in.”

The sound of fluttering wings grew louder in the background.

Dante’s hand phased through her back. “You need to go. The angels are coming.”

Naturally, Little Faith didn’t hear him. “아빠, you’re not feeling anything.” Her voice trembled. “You’re... you’re just sleeping, right?”

He didn’t respond.

“...Right?”

The beating wings began to grow even louder than before. Dante began to panic. “Faith! Come on, you need to get out of here!”

Little Faith must have noticed that it was no longer silent. She carefully rolled her father onto his back and closed his eyes. “I’ll go to Ms. Baxter’s now. I’ll be back, okay? Please start feeling again.”

“He didn’t.”

Dante blinked. Little Faith was still running down the road, but it was like the world had slowed to a standstill. The moonlight above moved like liquid silver. Technically, nothing should have moved, let alone speak.

But that voice...

He turned around to see-

“Faith?” he asked, bolting to his feet. “Is that you?”

She was silent as she drifted past him, and approached her father’s body. She kneeled beside him, lovingly patting his head.

“Faith... I-“

“My dad was a violinist,” she murmured, her fingers phasing through her father’s hair. “He taught me everything I know about playing. I... I think he knew I was a nephilim; that’s why he wanted me so close to him. He knew who my mom was.”

His tongue felt like lead. His mouth tasted like metal.

“I never got to see him again. I never got to say goodbye.”

His hands shook. In the darkest corners of his mind, he could see brief flashes of blond hair.

He never got to see his mother again. He never got to say goodbye.

“He died protecting me.” Her voice trembled. “He died because of me. It’s all my fault.”

“You don’t understand anything. You know nothing of what I went through!”

...It’s all my fault.

“No, it’s not.”

Faith stared down at her father’s body. When she spoke, her voice was hollow. “You don’t know that.”

“But I do.” He sat next to her. For a second, his hands reached out to hold her. He forced them back. “I do understand. We’re the same.”

Without realizing, his fingertips grazed the skin of her arm. She flinched away; her eyes burned with an emotion that was all too familiar to him- fear.

His heart ached.

“But we’re not the same! You said so yourself, didn’t you?!”

“...I did.”

“So how are we the same?! I’ve seen your past- you didn’t mean to hurt them! You didn’t know what was going to happen! I DID! Everyone I loved died because of me! I felt the bad things about to happen, and I didn’t do anything to stop it! You’re nothing like me, because YOU’RE NOT A MONSTER!”

Her knees buckled, and she collapsed to the floor. Loud, horrible sobs erupted from her throat.

Dante stared at her. His hands twitched at his sides. She was wrong; he knew she was wrong. But what could he say? That he didn’t know how that felt? That he didn’t know what it felt like to be a monster? A demon?

But he did know. He knew that feeling all too well.

He kept his mouth shut.

“I- I’m sorry,” she whispered, feebly wiping her tears. “I’m sorry.”

Dante sat next to her, and wrapped his arms around his knees. “Why? You have nothing to be sorry about.”

They sat there together. Little Faith had disappeared. The stars above them dimmed; the moonlight began to fade at the edges.

“Everything,” she croaked. “I have everything to be sorry about.” She wiped her tears again; more kept coming. He fought the urge to wipe them away. “The angels were right: I brought nothing but death and despair everywhere I went. I’m nothing more than a harbinger of misery to all the people I love.”

He bit his tongue.

Not to me.

She sniffled. “I see them everywhere. In the sunlight, in the dandelions, in the children playing in the park. And it hurts. It hurts to see them alive in so many different things, and not have them with me.” In the dim light, her gold eyes looked like tin. “I miss them. I miss my dad.”

He inhaled the fresh air. A slow breeze swept over them. “I miss my mom.”

She turned to look at him.

Dante swallowed. The lump in his throat disappeared quicker than he realized. “When she died, I thought I lost everything. I had no one to turn to- everyone I met was always trying to kill me. Demons, insane bank loaners... my own brother.” He ran a hand through his hair. “To be honest, I was scared through all of it. I do my best to try and block it out, and I look all apathetic and shit... but I miss her. I miss her everyday.”

The stars twinkled out of existence. In the distance, the horizon began to turn gray.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Faith murmured. Her fingers gently brushed over his hand. “Losing someone you love is the most painful thing in the world.”

“Yeah.” His hand turned upward and their palms connected. Their fingers laced together. “I’m sorry. At the office, when I said that you didn’t understand me... I was wrong. You’re probably one of the few people who understand me better than anyone else.” He gazed into her eyes; in the lightening sky, they were like amber.

He finally understood what bugs felt like before they were trapped in it for eternity- lost in their beauty, and unwilling to leave it.

“I’m sorry.” He gripped her hand a little tighter. “I hurt you. I was a horrible friend.”

Faith started to shake her head, but he kept going.

“The more I learn about you, the more I realize that I’m not good enough to be your friend; I’m not good enough for you. I’m not good like you are.” He pressed his forehead on their intertwined hands. Tears stained their skin. “I’ll be better. I’ll work hard every day to make myself a better person for you. I’m so sorry, Faith, I’m so sorry...”

A warm hand ran through his hair. It drifted down to his cheek, and gently nudged his chin upwards. It felt so comforting; he closed his eyes, unable to stop himself from leaning into her.

“You were always good enough for me,” she whispered. “Please don’t think otherwise.”

And when she hugged him, he didn’t think. How could he when he felt so much at home?

Surrounded by warmth. Surrounded by her scent.

His nose brushed against the skin of her jawline.

The urge itched.

Claim.

His teeth sank into her neck.

Shit.

But if she was upset, he couldn’t tell. Her warm hands continued to rub small circles on his back. A small song erupted from her throat, soft and sweet.

It felt like home.

The sky turned gold at the edges.

[...]

The three of them laid side by side. The bones underneath them shifted.

Faith’s eyelids twitched.

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A/N: IM FINALLY DONE! This thing has been kicking my ass for a while

Also finals are coming so updates are probably gonna be longer..... sorry 😅

Edit: read chapter 14! :D

#devil may cry 3 #dmc dante #dmc lady #dmc oc #lost and found

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rosemary-morgan · 5 years

Text

Arthur Morgan X F.Reader: The shadows of my past - Part 2

Hello dear friends ;) Here comes the second part of “The shadows of my past”

I want to thank everyone, for the likes, reblogs and comments. Thank you very much, dear ones!!! ❤️ ❤️

Please excuse some mistakes. English isn´t my native language

Part 1 / Part 3

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The shadows of my past - Part 2

"Hi, Arthur." "Charles." Arthur gave a friendly smile to the tall man as he sat down beside him by the fire. Charles had seen immediately that Arthur was trapped deep in his thoughts. Which was normal, of course, but in the last few days, Arthur seemed very sad. Between Charles and Arthur, a deep friendship had developed. Charles was a nice person and when Arthur talked to someone about his feelings, then to Charles. "You alright, Charles?" "Sure, but you don´t seem to be doing well. What's wrong with you my friend?" Arthur looked at Charles speechless. His friend missed nothing and Arthur had to sigh softly. He clasped his hands together and looked down. "I, um..." Arthur cleared his throat and looked back at Charles. He waited patiently for a response from the young man. "I met a young woman and her son a few days ago." In itself, it had been a nice encounter and Arthur could think of nothing more than this encounter. But at the same time, it brought back the terrible memory that hurt him so much. For years Arthur had held them back and now they collapsed over him. And Arthur couldn´t handle that. "They were very friendly to me, to a strange man they didn´t know at all and yet they treated me like I was part of their family." Charles smiled when he heard that. "Well, that's a good thing, Arthur! But it's not what makes you so sad, is it?" Again Arthur sighed and he looked into the crackling fire. He had to swallow hard and he was silent for a moment. "This boy... he reminds me of my son Isaac..." Charles looked at Arthur and he was very confused. He didn´t know that Arthur had a son. Charles was speechless and he didn´t dare to ask what that meant. So the young man waited for Arthur's words. "I once had a family Charles..."

When Arthur met his eyes, Charles had to swallow hard. He had never seen Arthur so sad and hurt before. He clearly sees in the eyes of this man how badly hurt his soul was. There had to be a painful story behind his words. "But I wasn´t there for them and I didn´t care enough about Isaac and his mother. I... failed, Charles." The first tears burned in Arthur's eyes and he gasped hard. "I... couldn´t save them. They were murdered, Charles! For a few bucks... for a few dollars, goddamnit!" Arthur buried his face in his hands and Charles now understood why Arthur had retired so much in the last few days. Charles would never understand the pain Arthur was going through. A heavy burden was on Arthur's shoulders, and with that guilt, he bore it was even harder for him. "I can´t forget Isaac! In the last few days, I've seen his face clearly in front of me!" Arthur looked at his friend. He just listened to him and didn´t interrupt Arthur in the word. "I can hear him laughing, Charles..." It's a blessing and a curse at the same time. "I hear him laughing and I hear him call me daddy!" Arthur looked again at the dancing flames in front of him. "They didn´t deserve this fate. Neither Isaac nor Eliza. They had both been so young, damn it!" Over and over again Arthur asked himself why that had happened. It should have happened to him! "I should lie in their place under the earth, Charles." His beautiful eyes gazed with pain at Charles. "Not Eliza and not Isaac... for me, Charles." Never before had Charles seen his friend so desperate and he was very sorry. The encounter with this young woman and her son, of whom Arthur told him, was probably the trigger for his hidden memories.

"It was her fate, Arthur. You can´t blame yourself for that. We can´t decide our fate, Arthur.", Charles said calmly. "That happened because of me and they paid for my bad deeds!" "Arthur, you are too hard on yourself! You aren´t a bad person." But Arthur could only laugh mockingly at Charles's words. Arthur didn´t think he was a good person, but that's what Charles believed. He hadn´t known Arthur for very long, but he had a good knowledge of human nature, and he didn´t trust anyone else as much as he trusted Arthur. "You don´t know me, Charles! I've done many things in my life that I'm not proud of!" "And that's the point, Arthur! You're regretting it and it shows that a good soul is sleeping in you." Arthur sighed heavily and got up from his seat. Why did Charles say something like that to him? He had no idea of the things Arthur had done. So how could he say with such assurance that there was a good soul in him? "Excuse me, Charles! But I have to be alone now." Arthur rose from his seat and started to leave, but Charles wanted to give him one last piece of advice. "Arthur..." Arthur stopped and looked at Charles. "Don´t lose your luck, Arthur. We weren´t just born to suffer. Never forget that." Arthur didn´t answer but went to his brown Arab. He had to get out of the camp. Lately, the atmosphere in this camp was more than shitty. But Charles's last words would stay in Arthur's mind for a long time...

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"Well done, Joseph! You see? Reading is fun!" Joseph looked at the pictures in his book and read the headlines. You were very proud of your son and it seems to be fun for him to take a closer look at his books. Joseph liked animal books and fables the most. "Would you like to play in the garden for a bit, darling? You have learned enough for today!" "Are you going to play with me, mummy?" "Of course, darling." Together with your son you rose from the dining table and go out of the house. When you suddenly saw two strange men riding to your house, you stopped Joseph from going into the garden. You didn´t like these men at all, because you felt that they weren´t good people. You pushed your son back into the house. "Darling, please go to your room and wait until I come!" "What is it, mummy? Who are these men?" "Do what I tell you and be a good boy! I'll be right back with you." You look after Joseph and when he disappeared into his room, you took the revolver to you, which you keep well hidden. You hoped that you didn´t have to use it, but you had to protect yourself and your son. You went to the door again and look very sternly at the men who stopped in front of your house. They grinned at you and you immediately realized that this wasn´t a friendly visit. "Ma'am!" One of the men tipped his hat to greet you, while the other one, eyed you with his lustful gaze. You could feel him undressing you with his eyes. "Who are you?! Go away!" "We don´t want any trouble! My name is Elkanah Jones and this is my friend Sam Green." "I don´t care who you are! Away with you!" The two men laughed because they didn´t take you seriously. The man, Elkanah Jones, got off his horse and you're already reaching for your revolver. "Are you always so rude with guests?" "Guests? Tell me what you want from me or go away! " "You've got a pretty loose mouth, sweet pie!", said Sam Green and you scowled at the dark-haired man. "Mr. Green! Where are your manners? So Miss Main!" You swallow hard and your heart started to beat like crazy. How did these men know your name? You never see them before. "You have a nice house and we want to buy it." "I'm sorry, but this house is not for sale!" Especially since you couldn´t possibly afford a new purchase. This house was everything you have and you certainly wouldn´t sell it. "Oh, well, I'm afraid you have no choice, Missy!", said Sam Green and then Elkanah gave him a warning look. He should just keep out of business because Sam Green had no idea about that. "What my friend means is that we'll make you a good offer, well let's say our boss makes you an offer." "Who's your boss ?! You can tell him that I'm not ready to sell this house!" But Elkanah just laughed softly and walked up to you. He stopped in front of the steps to your house and handed you a note. You take this hesitantly and you could feel that this whole thing didn´t mean anything good. Your stomach contracted painfully because you were very nervous. As you unfolded the note, there was a numeral in it and you thought it was a joke. A very bad joke.

Incredulous, you looked at the man in front of you. "That's a joke, isn´t it?" For such a small offer you should sell your house? And why your house? It was small and old. Insignificant. It had to be a joke! "I'm afraid that's no joke, Miss Main!" Elkanah said. "And this offer is for a short time, either you accept it or we'll just take your house away. Quite simple! " It was enough! You pick up your revolver and Elkanah instinctively took a few steps back, but his smile of self-satisfaction didn´t disappear from his face. "You should think carefully about what you want to do, Missy!" "This house will remain in my possession!", you said and scowled at the men. You threaten them with your revolver. "And now leave this place! RIGHT NOW!" Elkanah nodded goodbye to you before leaving your estate with his friend Sam Green. You had to sigh heavily and you were glad that those horrible men had left you alone.

Throughout the day, you thought about who these men are and why they wanted to take your house away from you. The offer you received from them was very miserable. It was impossible for you to build a new home. You would end up on the street with your son and you didn´t want to do that to Joseph. And not to yourself either. You were very nervous but fortunately, Joseph didn´t notice. He was too busy with admiring his new book. "Do you like your new book, Joseph?" You asked when you were about to water the plants in your living room. "Yes!" You smiled and then sigh softly because as much as you tried, you can´t forget these men. You had to admit that you are afraid of them. When it suddenly knocked on the door, your heart almost stopped. You swallow hard and panic was in your face. But you couldn´t look so fast as Joseph ran to the door and opened it. "Joseph! Stop!" But to your relief and surprise, Arthur stood at the door. And you were damned relieved that it was him. "Arthur!" Joseph was very happy about Arthur's surprise visit. Arthur gave the boy a friendly smile and stroked his head. "Hey, Joseph." Arthur had thought a lot. About you and Joseph. He felt a certain attraction and he couldn´t help but think about you all the time. You and your son were always in his thoughts and Arthur would be lying if he said he didn´t want to see you. As much as his memories of Isaac hurt him, neither you nor Joseph was to blame for his past. Arthur knew that you had to be as lonely as he is and Joseph didn´t have a father. He felt a connection to you and therefore he hadn´t managed to stay away from you.

"Arthur, that's a surprise.", you said and Arthur saw that you were pretty tense. "Hello Y/N! I hope I don´t disturb you?" "Of course not! Come in, Arthur!" You were very happy about his surprise visit. Arthur entered your home and Joseph was immediately at his side and he proudly showed him his new book. "Look, Arthur! Mummy gave this to me yesterday!" "Oh, let me see." Arthur took the book and looked at the colorful pictures and he looked down at Joseph with a smile. "Look, Arthur! There the cat and the dog!" Joseph took Arthur by the hand and he led him to the couch. He enthusiastically showed the young man his favorite pictures in the book and told him the story behind the illustrations. You had to laugh softly and when you looked at Arthur, his beautiful eyes met yours and you smiled at him. You brought Arthur a glass of cool water, with a slice of lemon inside. "Thank you, Y/N!" That was exactly what Arthur needed right now. The temperatures were unbearable again today. It was very hot outside. "How are you Arthur?", you asked and you sat down in a chair opposite him. "I'm fine, Y/N, thanks! I hope you're okay too?" You nod and smiled. You didn´t tell Arthur about the two men who threatened you a few hours ago. You didn´t want to do that before Joseph either. Especially since you didn´t want to burden Arthur with your problems. For three years you have been fighting your way through life alone and you had always found a way out of awful situations. That's what you would do this time again. "I was in Strawberry and wanted to visit you. I hope that's okay?" You had to smile. He was very polite and you liked that. You put a lot of value on that. "Of course, Arthur! You're always welcome. If you want, we can take a little walk?" "Sure, why not!" You would like some company, and especially Arthurs. He had a charming nature and you felt very comfortable around him. And Arthur needed some time off from the daily stress at the camp.

Since this day, much changed in Arthur's heart. He spent a lot of time with you and with your son Joseph. The pain he had felt at first was barely left, and Arthur had to admit that he really enjoyed spending his time with the two of you. It made him happy to be with you and he would like to know more about you. But Arthur felt that you were hiding something deep inside of you and you're not telling much about yourself either. Well, that was alright, of course, because he also had many secrets that he didn´t want to tell.

You came home from a walk and Joseph had fallen asleep on Arthur's shoulders. He had carried Jospeh on his back because he was so tired and then fell asleep. The warm weather had exhausted the little guy very much. You had also been fishing and Jospeh had enjoyed catching fish with Arthur. You carried the bucket with you, where the fish lay. You had a good catch. "I can´t wait to eat the fish!", you said and Arthur looks at you smiling. "We made a good catch", he replied. When you got home, you put down the bucket and went to Arthur to take Jospeh in your arms. It was time for his afternoon nap. "Mhmhm..." Joseph grunted softly as you pulled him into your arms, but quickly he cuddled up to you and you kissed him on his head. "Come on, my darling, I'll bring you to bed." Arthur followed you when you brought Joseph into the house and he had to smile. He had missed so much in his life. Many important things that were significant in this world. Like a family, and maybe Charles had been right. Maybe life has something good for someone like him. But this fateful encounter with you and Joseph also worried him... Arthur brought the bucket into the house and set it down in the kitchen. He started cleaning the fish and taking it out. It was so quiet around him. The only thing he could hear was the ticking of the clock which hanging on the wall and it was so reassuring. His beautiful eyes peered out the window and he saw this beautiful nature that had always enchanted him. He felt like a normal man, living a normal and honest life. Arthur sighed softly and looked down at the fish he had just gutted. It was crazy and he had to laugh softly. A few days ago you came into his life and he spent the most beautiful hours with you and Joseph and he was really happy for the first time in years. Arthur was so deep in his thoughts that he accidentally cut himself in the palm of his hand. "Ouch! Sh..hit!" You have just come into the kitchen and see Arthur holding a clean towel to his bleeding hand. "Arthur, did you hurt yourself?" "Oh, that's not so bad", he said. When you went to him and carefully pulled his hand to you, you can see that the cut was pretty deep. "Oh... that's very deep", you said softly, looking up at him with concern. Arthur chuckled and blushed a little. He thought it was cute, that you are worried about him. "Come, I'll clean it up", you said and Arthur let you bring him to the table "I'll be right back with you", you said, leaving him for a moment to get some bandages.

When you came back to the kitchen, you had to smile, because Arthur had already started to clean the fish and you found that very nice of him. You took a chair and sat down in front of Arthur, gently reaching for his wrist, and Arthur looked at your tender hands. He said nothing, but let you do your job. You first cleanse his wound and when the alcohol was used, Arthur had to draw a sharp breath. That was very uncomfortable. "I'm sorry", you said softly and carefully press the alcohol-soaked kitchen towel onto his gash. "Does this have to be stitch?" Arthur asked but you shook your head. Now that all the blood was wiped away, you could better see the wound and the cut wasn´t too deep. "No, it doesn´t have to." And Arthur was happy with that. You were very careful with him and Arthur had to smile about that. "You know, Y/N, I'm not fragile." You blushed and stroked a long strand of hair behind your ear, smiling. "I don´t want to hurt you unnecessarily, Arthur", you said softly and looked up at him. The attractive man swallowed lightly. It felt good... your words felt damn good. They were like medicine for his broken soul and he watched you until you finished your work, and his hand was wrapped in a clean bandage. "Thanks, Y/N", said Arthur, gently reaching for your wrist as you rose from your seat. He looked up at you and he gave you a gentle smile. You felt his touch make your heart beat faster because it was a pleasant feeling. "Nothing to thank for, Arthur."

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"So many stars... I often wonder if there's anything else up there", you whispered. You're sitting on the terrace with Arthur watching the starry sky with him. It was very late and Joseph was already sleeping. You had eaten for dinner the fish that Arthur had caught with Joseph and now you enjoyed this beautiful evening together with Arthur. It was quiet around you. Sometimes the howling of a wolf was heard, but that didn´t bother you. You had a blanket around your and Arthur's body and you leaned carefully against him. Arthur felt very good, but he was also very nervous. It has been a long time since he was so close to a woman and you were a very special person. You were charming, beautiful and a loving mother. And you also feel very comfortable with Arthur's side. He was a charming guy and he was very attractive. Joseph had already lost his heart to this cowboy and you had it too... Arthur made you forget all your worries, but the disaster wasn´t far from away from you... "Who knows." "My father always used to tell me that the stars in the sky are angels, that our loved ones up there see us and watch over us.", you said quietly and you liked that idea. It was reassuring to know that deceased friends and relatives will remain forever in this world. When Arthur heard that, he had to swallow hard because he immediately had to think of his son Isaac. "Do you believe that, Y/N?" "I don´t know, Arthur... but it's a nice idea." You turned your face to him and you looked into his beautiful face, which was dimly lit by the lantern you had placed on the table in front of you. When you realize how sad and hurt he suddenly was, you looked at him worried. "I don´t believe in it, Y/N. That's... ridiculous! Such fairy tales. That's stupid when you believe in something like that!" When Arthur said that, your words stuck in your throat. Was he just making fun of you? You looked at him very confused because you didn´t know this side of him and that sentence hurt you very much. And Arthur immediately realized what he had just said. He closed his eyes with a sigh and apologized softly to you. You leaned on the other side of the bench and looked sadly at your lap.

"I- I'm sorry, Y/N, I´m an idiot!" Arthur rose from his seat and looked down at you, but you didn´t pay any attention to him. He closed his eyes again and ran his hand through his blond hair. "I... I should go now... Goodnight, Y/N." "No, it´s okay, Arthur.", you said softly and looked up at him. "I'm not angry with you." "But you should", Arthur said and sat down next to you. It was pretty quiet between you and the mood was depressing. "It's just... it´s..." Arthur stuttered. He didn´t know what to say or how to say it. "I´m very sensitive to this subject, Y/N. I once had a son... His name was Isaac, he died..." When you heard that, you looked at him shocked. You couldn´t stop tears from burning in your eyes. "His mother and he... they were murdered Y/N." His eyes looked at you with infinite pain and your tears ran down your face. You placed your hand over your mouth to prevent a loud sob. "Oh, my God Arthur... I'm so sorry..." Suddenly there was a loud clap of thunder in the night sky and a big flash of light could be seen. A big storm would start, the wind suddenly became very strong, causing the windows of the house to shake. "I should go, Y/N." "Arthur, that's too dangerous! You should stay here and wait for the storm to pass!" You didn´t want anything to happen to Arthur. It was a long way to Shady Bells. "You're probably right." Together with Arthur, you go into your house and you closed the door. You still couldn´t believe what Arthur had just told you. He once had a family, which was then murdered. It felt so awful for you to know that. How much did this man have to suffer? You had seen something in him from the beginning and his words confirmed your concerns. He was deeply hurt inside and you were so sorry for what life had done to him.

Neither of you said anything. You were both deep in thought and you couldn´t stop crying. While you pulled some blankets and a pillow for Arthur out of your closet, salty tears ran down your face. Arthur was sitting on the couch in the living room, staring thoughtfully at the floor. He thought about this whole situation. About you, about Joseph and about the life he lived as an outlaw for twenty years. He once had big dreams. Common dreams with Dutch, Hosea and all who had joined the Van der Linde gang. But so slowly, that dream - Dutch's dream - seems to break down. Like a house of cards... like a damn house of cards! Arthur was very confused and he knew that this would be a long and sleepless night...

to be continued…

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #fanfiction #love #rdr2

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