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endlesslystarlitskies · 1 year

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Lost and Found- Part 3

A/N: Here is the third chapter! I’ve finally finished the game and have a firm idea of where I am taking this story, so I’m excited! However, I am realizing that I signed up for a pretty long fic, so. . .we’ll see how that goes. I don’t know how I feel about this chapter, so please let me know if you like it! Genre: Horror, action, adventure, Slow-Burn,

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x Named Reader (Named but not Described)

Summary: Ella was one of the missing hikers who was kidnapped by the villagers. She narrowly escaped being sacrificed, but her friends weren’t so lucky. Managing to survive out in the woods with her previous skills and knowledge, she runs into Leon, and that meeting begins the longest, most dangerous adventure of her life as she tries to help him save the girl she saw being taken into the church. What will happen along the way? Only one way to find out.

Warnings: Canon typical violence and gore, Death, Murder, Monsters, Suicidal ideations mentioned, Ella has little regard for her own life and is dealing with the loss of someone closest to her while also fighting to survive with waning self-preservation instincts. Please be cautious if that triggers you. Word Count: 6,439 Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7

Story Masterlist xXx

They stopped by the merchant’s table, as they figured they should stock up while they could. That, and they had found a ruby in one of the villagers houses, strangely enough, so they sold that to him for a good amount of Pesetas.

It was almost as if the Merchant was aware of what had happened back in the village. He was still his charismatic self, but Ella could have swore he had given her a look of empathy for a moment.

She didn’t comment on it, just thanking him for the ammo and some first aid spray before she and Leon went on their way.

Getting the door open, they followed the path into what looked like a barricade post, though there were only two villagers inside which were quickly taken care of. Ella took care of the bear traps, but just as she was about to get the last one, a female villager with a small sickle came out from behind the boxes, taking a swing at her that she barely dodged before she fell on her ass.

Leon moved quickly, shooting her in the chest before kicking her to the ground, the female villager now unmoving.

“Sorry, must’ve slipped.”

Ella stopped then, her eyes slightly wide as she replayed what he had said in her head. Leon turned, looking over at her.

“You okay?” He asked, but Ella could only shake her head as she got to her feet, giving him an amused look and barely containing her laughs behind pursed lips.

“Did you just trash talk that villager?” She finally said, a giggle escaping past her lips as she did. “What are you, some cheesy 90’s action hero?” Saying those words out loud made it impossible to hold in her laugh, and she had to put a hand to her mouth to keep herself from being too loud.

She couldn’t help it. After everything, the air had been quiet and a bit tense (because of her), and this had been just what she needed to feel the last of her sorrow fade back into the dark corner of her mind.

As her laughs finally subsided, she sucked in a breath, looking at Leon. He was smiling. Not a half smile, either. A real smile, that pulled at both edges of his lips. It was small but it was there.

“Oh my god, you’re smiling.” She called out before she could stop herself. “I can’t believe it. It’s a miracle.” She said in mock awe, and Leon rolled his eyes as he shook his head.

She’s back.

“Believe it or not, I do smile.” He responded in an annoyed tone, though Ella knew he wasn’t actually annoyed. She could tell by the look in his eyes.

“If you had told me that before, I wouldn’t have believed you, but now I’ve seen it with my own two eyes. The eighth wonder of the world.” She teased, watching him visibly deflate with a sigh.

“I liked you better when you were quiet.” He muttered, but his words were unserious.

“Well, then you shouldn’t have spouted out some cheesy one liner, because that has got to be the funniest thing I’ve heard in a while.” She had to stop herself from laughing again just at the thought of it.

“Happy to entertain.” He breathed out as he started forward, and Ella couldn’t see it, but a hint of the previous smile was still there on his lips.

xXx

They didn’t make it far before the low rumbling of something could be heard up ahead, Ella being unable to make out what the sound was. It sounded familiar, but neither she or Leon could place it.

He gave her a look, and she knew he was telling her to be careful, Ella nodding in return as they both slowly moved forward, the sound getting louder as they did.

Getting further up the hill, Ella noticed there was a figure standing ahead, as if waiting for them, and it was holding a chainsaw.

The sound was a chainsaw.

Before she could move a little bit back so they could figure out a plan, there was the snap of a stick under Ella’s boot, her eyes widening.

She didn’t even have time to wonder if the thing had heard them, because the chainsaw roared to life as it let out a screech, running towards them at a fast speed.

Ella jumped to the side, barely dodging the guy as he swung the chainsaw around wildly. She pulled out her gun, and she tried to get a shot on him, but he was moving too much and too fast, immediately going for Leon next.

Leon rolled out of the way, landing in a kneeling position and firing a few shots that got the guy in the chest. He didn’t even flinch, which meant he would be harder than regular villagers to take down.

“Did you even feel that?” Ella heard Leon grumble in aggravation, but it was then she saw the two villagers coming up behind him.

“Leon watch out!” She called, quickly getting to her feet as Leon narrowly dodged an ax coming down on him.

Ella had aimed her gun to take care of the villagers, but one grabbed hold of Leon before she got a shot, the taller man holding Leon’s arms back as he struggled.

This wouldn’t be much of a concern, Leon being in harder predicaments and usually able to break the hold and take care of the problem, but the man with the cloth sack over his head revved his chainsaw, ready to strike Leon.

Ella panicked, turning her gun on him and shooting him instead in hopes of stopping him or at least gaining his attention, but it was no use, the thing not reacting the slightest bit and Ella unable to get a headshot.

Thinking quickly and knowing she only had seconds, Ella ran forward, before leaping onto the man's back just as he was about to slash Leon with the weapon. In the next second, Ella pulled out her knife and stabbed it right into its head.

The force of her weight suddenly hitting him knocked the chainsaw man off balance, and the knife in his head stunned him, giving Leon the time to finally break the hold of the villager and flip him over his shoulder, taking care of him with his knife.

Ella could only be relieved for a second before she saw the chainsaw begin to come around the guy's shoulder with the intent to hit her, Ella releasing the grip she had around the thing’s neck and falling to the ground and out of the way of the chainsaw- well, mostly.

It just barely nicked her shoulder, tearing the flesh there, and Ella sucked in a breath through her teeth, her hand finding the wound as she fell back onto the dirt. She saw Leon behind the man as he turned towards her, distracted, and she watched as Leon pulled out his shotgun.

Ella took that as her cue to get out of the way, scrambling to the side and giving Leon the opening to land a shot directly to the things chest, creating a gaping hole in its back as it finally fell to the floor dead.

“Felt that, didn’t you fucker?” Ella gave a try at her own little one liner, looking at Leon with a grin. However, she was surprised to see anger in his eyes.

“Are you crazy?!” He practically growled in a low voice, taking Ella back.

“What?” She was confused, before she realized what he meant, anger replacing the confusion. “He was about to kill you, Leon. I saved your life, again! You should be thanking me!” She pointed out in indignation as she got to her feet, but that only seemed to piss him off more.

“You could have gotten killed. That was reckless.” Ella scoffed.

“Ah right, because being careful is so easy out here.” She rolled her eyes, not understanding what his problem was.

Leon was quiet at that, but she could see the anger hadn’t subsided in the slightest bit, meeting his hard gaze with one of her own as she refused to back down.

He seemed to understand then that he wouldn’t get anywhere with this, opting to take a deep breath through his nose, before reaching into his pack.

“Take off your overshirt.” His words caught her off guard, Ella not understanding why she would do that until she saw him take out a small first aid can and a bandage.

She debated on being defiant, but decided against it as she knew it was pointlessly confrontational, and she didn’t want to argue over something so stupid.

Why was he even mad at her? Sure, what she had done was dangerous, but he could have died had she not done what she did. She just didn’t understand it.

She shrugged the left part of her flannel off, wincing at the pain the movement brought, and Leon moved over to her. She held her hand out, but he didn’t give the items to her, not even offering an explanation as to why.

She supposed she didn’t need one. It was closer to the back of her shoulder, so she really wouldn’t be able to do it herself, at least not easily. She just sighed, before turning around to give him a better look.

“It’s not bad. It’s barely bleeding.” She told him, there being only a bit of blood smeared on the palm of her hand. She hadn’t gotten a good look at it, but it had seemed like a small gash, so she wasn’t worried, and he didn’t need to be either.

He didn’t respond, and she guessed he was giving her the silent treatment, rolling her eyes once more.

The silent treatment was a bit childish in her opinion, but if that was how he wanted to act, then fine.

She grit her teeth when he sprayed the wound with the antiseptic, the sting catching her off guard as she glared at him over her shoulder.

A bit of warning would have been nice.

She didn’t voice that out loud, biting her tongue instead.

Ella felt herself freeze, however, when she felt his fingers brush against her back as he moved her shirt further out of the way for the bandage, not expecting the gentle touch to send goosebumps over her skin.

Stupid, traitorous body.

When he was finally done, she practically shrugged him off of her, putting her now slightly torn flannel shirt back on as she refused to meet his eyes.

Mostly out of anger, but also, just slightly, because of the way her body reacted to him.

“Just be careful. Please.” Was all he said before he turned, and Ella let out another sigh as she relented for the time being.

She moved over to the man, putting her boot to his head as she pulled out her knife.

Way to make waves, Chainsaw man.

xXx

They had just gotten out of the tense and serious atmosphere, just to end right back up in it as they continued up the hill. At least it was for different reasons this time. Ella tried to think of a way to cut the tension, but they came upon a tripwire at the top of the stone steps they had come across.

“You wanted to learn how to disarm these, right?” Leon spoke up, slightly surprising Ella, who had thought she’d be the one to break the silence between them.

“Uh, yeah.” She answered after a moment, and Leon gestured for her to get closer, Ella moving to do that so she could watch as he disarmed the trap. She was leaning forward, palms on her knees as her head was over his shoulder, Leon crouching in front of the device.

“That’s it?” She asked, slightly surprised by how simple it looked. “I feel like I could do that in my sleep.” She chuckled as she turned to look at Leon at the same time he turned to her, her nose brushing against his.

Ella’s heart jumped in her chest, and she straightened almost immediately as she willed the heat from her cheeks. There was a smirk pulling at Leon’s lips as he cast his eyes downward for a moment, clearly amused by what had just occurred, as well as Ella’s reaction. His lips parted as he went to speak, and Ella could only assume he was about to say something that would further her embarrassment, quickly moving to cut him off.

“Okay cool, anyway, um. . .I’ll try not to be a dumbass and blow myself up with the next one we find, but I can’t make any promises.” She joked, hoping that would help hide her embarrassment, but perhaps talking about her getting herself killed hadn’t been the best way to go about that, as the amusement left Leon’s expression, his lips falling back into the usual light frown. He stood up straight, just giving her a nod of acknowledgement, before he continued on, the two back to square one.

The good news was, he didn’t comment on what had just happened, and that was all Ella could care about at that moment. She couldn’t believe she had even been that close to him. At the time, she was just trying to see what he had been doing and memorize it in case she’d need it, but had she known, she would have given him some space. Though, he hadn’t mentioned it either, to be fair, but maybe he was just being polite, or he hadn’t even noticed.

Ella pushed away the thoughts, not wanting to think back on them anymore, lest the embarrassment swirling in her stomach never leave her, and she focused on the walk forward. As they got to the top of the steps, Ella noticed the large house for the first time. It was unlike any of the other houses they had come across, being bigger and made of stone instead of wood, and Ella knew they had to get into it.

When the gate leading ahead was locked, she was proven right. However, the large wooden doors to the house were also locked, so they had to find an alternative way in. Fortunately the back door was unlocked, and the two made their way inside.

When they passed by the stairs, Ella noticed the almost hidden wooden door, only seeing it due to the same colored handle sticking out. She opened it, excepting some kind of small storage room, but was instead met with a villager, the room being a bathroom. She panicked, a light yelp coming from her mouth as she pulled out her gun and immediately landed a head shot, which fortunately took care of the guy very quickly as he fell back onto the toilet. She heard the lightest chuckle, turning to see Leon looking at her in amusement. Embarrassment once again filled her as she realized how silly that must have looked.

“What? I didn’t expect the room under the stairs to be a bathroom, let alone have someone in it!” She defended, feeling embarrassed by her reaction. However, she quickly realized the opportunity to lighten the air had presented itself once more as she turned back to the villager.

“Poor guy just finished using the bathroom. He never saw it coming.” She tsk’d, shaking her head. Her antics were rewarded with a half-smile and a slight shake of the head before Leon turned back to finish clearing the house, and Ella found herself smiling as well. She was glad they could get over hiccups like what happened before quickly. Traveling in a tense atmosphere like that was not pleasant.

“I’ll just give him some privacy.” She closed the door, the hinges creaking a bit and adding to the humor of the situation somehow.

“Not going to look for any Pesetas?” She heard Leon ask from the other room, and she was glad he was joking back with her, hoping it meant that the tense atmosphere was finally gone.

“No, I think I’m good.” She chuckled as she passed a wooden stand, opening the drawer it held. She smiled as she found a jewel, picking it up and showing it to Leon. “See, I’ve got this.” She grinned, and he let out a breathy laugh, making Ella’s grin turn into a smile. They were definitely back to normal.

xXx

The house was pretty large, and very fancy compared to every other house they’d seen.

“Not too shabby. Someone is showing up their neighbors.” Leon commented as he looked at all the decorations, and Ella hummed her agreement, picking up a picture of two people and recognizing the villager she had just killed. She grimaced, before putting the picture down and moving on.

“Hey, there’s a locked cabinet over here.” Leon called, having gone down a small hallway by the kitchen. “It’s got a strange three symbol combination lock.”

“What are the symbols?” Maybe they could find the combination somewhere in the house.

“Uh. . .Chalice, wheat, baby-” Ella’s brows furrowed. Leon wasn’t kidding, as that was definitely strange.

“Alright, keep a look out to see if the key’s somewhere around here.” She made her way up the stairs, her eyes scanning her surroundings as she got to the top floor. There wasn’t much that was interesting, other than the fancy but locked door with a weird looking hole in it, but she did find a book. She flipped through the pages, though she noticed some sort of marking on one of the pages in the middle that she had barely caught a glimpse of.

Finding it once more, she read the page, seeing that three words were underlined in pencil.

Crop, pig, babe.

Well, that was relatively easy to find.

“Hey, try the crop, pig, and baby!” She called, turning her head. However, Leon was not downstairs like she had thought, and was instead standing right beside her. Ella jumped, gasping in surprise.

“Oh my god.” She breathed as she tried to calm her heart down. How did she not hear him come up the stairs? And how did he manage to keep scaring the shit out of her?

“No need to yell, I’m right here.” She could hear the smirk in his voice and she turned to glare at him. His expression was smug, Leon clearly pleased with himself. She had no idea what she had done to him to make him enjoy messing with her so much, if he even did it on purpose. Maybe she was just jumpy, which was entirely possible considering what she had been through the past few days.

“Yeah, I realized. Thanks.” She sassed, before letting out a breath as her heart finally calmed. Heading back downstairs, they got the cabinet open, finding a crystal ball.

“What’s this?” Leon questioned as he examined it, but Ella realized quickly.

“Oh, I think it goes to that big fancy door up there! It was locked, but it had a hole in it with that symbol that’s everywhere, and that thing looks just about the right size.” She explained as she already started her way back to the stairs, gesturing for him to follow her.

Getting in front of the door, Leon put the ball into the hole, and sure enough, it fit.

“Hm. Looks like it has to be oriented the right way.” Leon murmured, before beginning to turn the ball into the hole. Ella took in his look of concentration, his brows pinched together and his eyes focused intently on the design behind the crystal ball as he tried to match it correctly. His jaw was set in determination as the seconds ticked by, Ella able to see the muscles tense as his frustration grew.

It was then she realized she had been staring at him, looking away and hoping Leon had been too focused to notice. She didn’t want him to get the wrong idea, and god forbid, tease her about it. He was insufferable enough as it was.

However, when almost five minutes passed, Ella finally let out a sigh, deciding to take over as it was clear he wasn’t getting anywhere.

“Move, let me try.” She told him, gently pushing him out of the way. Leon didn’t offer any protest, annoyed at himself and hoping she would have more luck than him.

Ella matched the small balls in the crystal to the symbol perfectly, and it was then that she heard the door unlock. It was a neat mechanism, but Ella also found it weird and unnecessarily complicated.

Despite that, she grinned triumphantly at Leon, proud of herself for getting it pretty quickly.

“What would you ever do without me?” She teased, getting a roll of the eyes as she opened the door.

The room was well lit by a large window, and as they walked inside, Ella couldn’t help but marvel at how nice the room was. She noticed Leon pick up a book, moving to look over his shoulder so she could see it too.

It was labeled village records, and it mentioned how crops were dying and animals and people were starving to death, but then it mentioned lots, Ella’s brows furrowing in confusion at the different numbers, wondering what they meant. Her eyes widened slightly after Leon turned the page again, the next entry making her breath catch in her throat.

“Four outsiders got lost and wandered into the village. We took them to the altar for the ritual. One escaped. Even so, no need to cast lots today.”

Lots were sacrifices. Alice and her friends were sacrifices. . .For Lord Saddler.

As she continued the journey with Leon, her personal interest in this mission became greater.

Ella had been lost in her thoughts for a moment, but as she came back to herself she noticed Leon had closed the book and set it down, glancing over at her in concern. He must have also connected the dots. They weren’t that hard to connect.

“I’m good.” She told him, before turning to continue the search of the room. Fortunately, he didn’t say anything about it.

Her eyes fell on a portrait on the wall ahead, and it didn’t take genius to know who was in it. His robe was far more decorated than the man who had killed Alice and her friends, and it was a purple color. He was also missing the gold necklace with the red jewel, instead holding a large fancy staff. She knew that this man is the one that caused all of this, his name repeating in her head. The only person who could possibly have a portrait of himself in this village.

Lord Saddler.

She brought out her knife, stabbing the blade into the portrait where his face was and pulling it down, destroying it. It didn’t actually do anything to hurt the wretched man, but it made her feel better. A visible representation of what she thought about their stupid Lord and his religion.

As she turned, Leon was once again looking at her, this time with raised brows. “Okay, now I’m good.” Was all she said, putting the knife away and turning to the cabinet she was beside, not wanting to explain herself further.

She appreciated that Leon always seemed to know when not to comment on something.

There wasn’t anything interesting in the cabinet, but fortunately Leon found a key in the desk drawer.

“Alright, let’s go.” He pocketed the key, and Ella nodded, letting him lead the way out of the room.

However, the tall man in the dark hat and robe suddenly filled the doorway, both Ella and Leon stepping back and drawing their weapons. Leon was the first to fire, but the man just walked forward, kicking him in the chest and sending him sliding across the floor.

Despite its obvious futility, Ella continued shooting as well, just about to land a headshot when he stepped forward and grabbed her by the throat. Her airway was cut off, Ella grabbing the man’s hand in an attempt to gain any kind of leverage. He stared at her with scrutiny, as if contemplating something, before he threw her right into the already damaged portrait of Saddler, pain shooting down her back as she crumpled to the floor. She sucked in a breath, coughing as her lungs filled with air again.

Her throat throbbed, and moving sent a shooting pain up her back.

The man grabbed Leon in the same way he had her, carrying the grown man with ease. Ella looked for her gun, but it was across the room and out of reach, though Ella still tried to make her way towards it.

“Your blood has accepted the gift.” She heard the man say, just before two gunshots and glass breaking was heard.

An ally?

Ella turned, seeing the shadow of a person disappear as the man looked in the direction of the window, throwing Leon into the wooden frame of the bed.

After that, the man simply left the room, uncaring of either of them.

She wasn’t going to question it or complain, just glad he hadn’t killed Leon, who was slowly getting up as he moved over to her.

“You alright?” He asked, his voice a bit hoarse and out of breath, but otherwise normal.

Ella nodded, but she winced as she tried to get up, the pain in her back halting her immediately.

Leon took her by the arms, helping her stand up straight, and she grit her teeth as an audible pop sounded in her back, though the worst of the pain immediately subsided, Ella letting out a breath.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” She responded, her own voice hoarse but undamaged. “Gotta say though, getting thrown like a ragdoll is not my favorite thing.” She could only joke about what just happened, as for a moment there she thought they were going to die.

“I’d have to agree.” He murmured as he released her, moving to grab his gun.

“Why’d he just leave though? And what did he mean by gift in your blood?” She questioned, confused why either of them were alive right now. He had clearly had the advantage, and obviously gunshots didn’t faze him much so she didn’t know why he had stopped even with their unknown ally. It just didn’t make sense.

“I don’t know, but I don’t like the sound of it.” Leon sounded genuinely confused himself, probably wondering the same.

“Is there any situation where those words wouldn’t sound creepy?” She asked him as she moved towards her own gun. Her back was sore now, as well as her throat, but considering what happened she supposed she was lucky to get away with just that.

“I guess not.” Ella holstered her gun, looking to the broken window.

“Any idea who our mystery helper is?” She asked, having so many questions about what just occurred.

“No, I didn’t get a look at them.” He answered, though there was something behind his voice that made Ella think he had an idea as to who it was. She wouldn’t question it further, however, as he clearly didn’t want to mention it.

“Yeah I guess you were a bit preoccupied.” Her best way of coping with traumatic situations was humor, if that wasn’t already apparent. Ella moved to the door, cautiously opening it and peeking out, but there was no sign of the tall man. “I manage to avoid him all this time, and then I’m with you for a few hours and look what happens.” She tsk’d, though there wasn’t any real bite to her voice.

“Sorry about that. You asked to come along.” Leon pointed out as they made their way down the stairs.

“Right, but I think we’ve noticed by now that I don’t make the best life decisions.” That one earned her an unamused look, but she just grinned, finding it worth it.

xXx

As they left the house, Ella was ready to get the large gate open. However, the sound of whining and whimpering caught both her and Leon’s attention. They rounded the edge of the house, Ella’s heart falling at the sight of the trapped wolf.

“Oh no,” She murmured, before slowly moving forward with the intent to help the poor creature. She half-expected Leon to scold her, but to her pleasant surprise, he was right behind her, the both of them prying open the bear trap and releasing the wolf before stepping back. It limped a few steps away, whimpering lightly, before looking back at them. Ella gave the wolf a small smile, and soon it was running off into the woods.

“Take care of yourself buddy.” Leon murmured behind her, and she looked at him. Somehow she was not surprised that he had a soft spot for animals. She didn’t call it out though.

“We’ve got to make sure to set off all the bear traps we come across from now on.” She told him, and he didn’t voice any objection as they once again headed towards the gate.

xXx

Ella could not get what the man said out of her mind as they walked, having passed a small hut and a cave. There was something about it that was setting warning bells off in her head. She tried to think about the things she had seen in the villages when she was in the woods, or even what she had went through, though that was harder to think about.

However, as she recalled something she had seen the man in the hat himself do on her first night in the woods, her eyes widened.

“Leon-” She grabbed his arm, stopping him. “Your eyes, let me see your eyes.” She practically ordered, the blonde’s brows furrowing as he opened his mouth to question what she was going on about. Ella didn’t wait as she took his chin in her hands, letting go of his arm and brushing his hair out of his eyes so she could get a better look. She was too focused to notice the way his body had tensed, her worry about her fear giving her a one track mind.

Fortunately the sun was on her side. Unfortunately, her fear was confirmed.

“You’re infected. . .” She murmured in realization, Leon taking a gente hold of her her wrist and freeing his chin.

“What?” Surely he hadn’t heard her right.

“You’re infected Leon.” She repeated in a more firm voice. “It must have been when he took you.” There was no other time it could have happened- unless it was before Leon ran into her. “I saw the man inject a villager they had found hiding with a syringe my first day in the woods. They tied him up to a wooden post and left him there. I tried to help him when the villagers left for church later on, but when I got there, he was. . .angry and violent. His eyes had these tiny black veins-” She paused. “His skin did too!” She remembered at that moment, and she took his arm again, straightening it out so she could see the inside of his elbow. “See! There-” His visible veins were darker than normal, though they weren’t fully black yet, and they couldn’t see any veins they weren’t supposed to, so that was a good sign, but he was still infected.

Leon’s eyes scanned his inner arm, processing.

“Shit.” He could say that again. “How long did it take for the guy you saw to change?” He asked her, sounding more calm than she would be if she was in his position but his eyes not leaving his arm.

“Um. . .I don’t know, maybe a little less than 8 or 9 hours?” She was guessing, but she had spent a full night out in the woods waiting for her chance to try and help. Leon didn’t seem happy with the news, which could only mean he didn’t have much time left if he was following the same path. Ella had to guess her earlier assumption was right and he was infected when the man took him, which meant it had been a couple hours.

Ella was taken back when he turned, beginning to walk forward once more, while she was frozen, processing this new information.

“You coming?” He called to her when he noticed she hadn’t moved, and Ella gave him an incredulous look.

“Leon, you’re infected! You could turn into one of those things at any moment! We have no idea how the effects of the infection differ from person to person! I don’t know about you, but I know for a fact I couldn’t take you in a fight! And what if that girl is with us? You co-” She hadn’t even realized he had walked back towards her until he rested his hand on her uninjured shoulder, cutting off her rant.

“Hey, It’s gonna be okay. If I feel like I’m losing control, then I’ll take myself out of the situation.” He promised her. “Until then, Ashley still needs me, and I can’t abandon her. But you can leave, if you want. I won’t blame you.”

Ella found her anxiety and worry fading at the mention of who she assumed to be the President’s daughter, as well as his promise. She knew there were still so many risks associated with going forward, but he was right. They couldn’t leave Ashley behind. Who knows what those cult freaks want with the president’s daughter, but she was sure it wasn’t good. She sighed, relenting.

“Who said anything about leaving, or abandoning her? I was just making sure you were aware of what it all meant, with the crazy way you handled something that would have had me- Well, not being calm, that’s for sure.” She decided against what she was originally going to say, as that would not have been a fun joke for Leon.

Leon seemed to appreciate her making a joke, and maybe she saw relief in his eyes that she wasn’t leaving, but that could have been her imagination.

She had never planned to leave, and she knew that. The information had just been. . .shocking, and saddening. Leon’s fate was somehow more uncertain than it was before, and much darker as well.

Hell, maybe there’s a cure lying around somewhere. They’d have to hold out hope, because otherwise she didn’t see Leon making it out of this. And if Leon didn’t make it out of this, then Ashley likely wasn’t making it out of this either. All Ashley would have left is her, and she wasn’t a highly trained and skilled agent, let alone a hero.

The only thing they could do was move forward, and hope for the best, even if hope was a hard thing to find in this situation.

xXx

They made their way through the village beyond the gate, it being one that Leon had already been through before. Now, however, he had a key that could get him into the large building on the other side, which was a good thing.

The bad thing, however, was the tower beside the building had suddenly collapsed, blocking their way.

“Of course.” Ella had muttered, not at all surprised that their advancement was made harder, as nothing on this journey had been easy thus far.

They had to take down some of the scariest dogs she had ever seen, their teeth huge and terrifying, and Ella had made a quip about reconsidering her love for dogs, which had earned her a chuckle from Leon.

Soon, they found a ladder leading down into a tunnel that would get them to the other side, which would be easier than jumping down from the platform by the house as Ella wasn’t sure her back could handle the tuck and roll at the moment.

Making it out the other side, they got into the large building, being greeted by an altar and another large portrait of Lord Saddler, and Ella rolled her eyes.

“Geez, this guy is really full of himself isn’t he?” She grumbled with a shake of her head.

“I think you have to be to start a cult.” Leon quipped back, and he had Ella there. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder if all these portraits of his ugly grin and his stupid robes were necessary.

She took a look at the altar, seeing some candles but they were spaced out enough that she thought she could definitely make the jump.

Taking a step back to get a running start, she started forward, using the altar as steps and jumping up, before lodging her blade into the portrait and allowing gravity to do the rest as she fell back to the stone. With a satisfied grin, she put her knife away and hopped down, looking to Leon to see him staring at her with a look that said “really?”.

“What? It makes me feel better.” She shrugged, and he didn’t comment on it further as they made their way through the building. Opening the side door, the first thing Ella noticed was the glow of a purple flame, her eyes widening.

The Merchant!

She stepped out, a smile coming to her lips as she saw she was right.

“Hey! I was starting to worry we wouldn’t see you again.” She greeted him, the Merchant laughing.

“Oh don’t you worry, I’ll be around Miss. I like to make money after all.” He assured her, and she was glad to hear it, even if she didn’t understand how he got around. Hey, she didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth- though maybe that wasn’t the best analogy. Either way, she wasn’t going to question it.

His items were good, so she was going to take advantage of his offers.

Both Leon and Ella stocked up on ammo after selling what they could. Ella had been picking up the knives she found still, purely to sell them and get extra pesetas, so she got a bit more than Leon.

“You know, I have half a mind to ask you where you get all this stuff.” Ella spoke up as she and Leon pocketed all the supplies they bought, and the Merchant responded with a bellowing laugh, Ella having a feeling she wasn’t about to get a straight answer.

“Does it really matter how I’ve procured these items as long as they’re up to standard?” Yup, just as she suspected.

“I guess not.” She sighed with a light smile as she clipped the new holster she got on the opposite hip to her pouch. It would be much safer than keeping it tucked in her shorts, that was for sure.

“That’s the spirit.” He winked, and Ella chuckled, holstering her gun and looking at Leon, silently asking if he was ready. The blonde nodded, putting the bullet in his gun and cocking it before he started ahead. “Don’t get yourselves killed now!” The Merchant called after them before laughing.

“You know, even after everything I’ve seen so far, he might be the strangest.” Ella murmured, and Leon hummed his agreement as they walked up in the incline.

As they got closer, Ella realized she recognized the area they were in, her brows furrowing as she tried to place where she had seen it.Her eyes widened in realization a moment later.

They were right in front of the church.

#Leon Kennedy x reader #Leon Kennedy #Leon Kennedy x OC #Leon Kennedy Fanfiction #Leon S. Kennedy #Resident Evil #Resident Evil 4 #Resident Evil 4 Remake #Lost and Found

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televinita · 18 days

Text

People's Sexiest Man Alive would never steer me wrong!

Idly browsing through DVDs at the library, I saw "Thanksgiving" (apparently released last fall and which, like most movies these days, I've never heard of), whose cover gave off immediate Slasher (the series) vibes so I turned it over to read the back.

Whereupon I saw Patrick Dempsey in a sheriff's uniform and IMMEDIATELY said "sold" and put it in my checkout bag without even reading the summary. This is the level of auto-watch we're at here.

Spoilers for the ending, and also Scream 3 I guess, below the cut:

and listen, I knew it was too much to hope that I would get away with a second horror movie in which he is the kindly local law enforcement who neither dies nor kills, but also I didn't! Especially when he immediately became the reassuring and comforting presence to a teenage girl whose entire remaining family kinda sucks. Not even the godawful accent* stopped me, and believe me, that was A Trial.

[*which, I am horrified to learn while googling to confirm what to call it, is real?? "he was instructed to lose the accent in order to broaden his acting opportunities" well I'm sorry to say, whoever told him that was entirely correct. Just like he had to ditch his original nose. I have never apologized for being shallow as hell in my screen preferences.]

Other thoughts:

+ MC's love interests both kinda suck, but as far as the friend group, I'll be damned if I didn't immediately find them all distinctive and interesting within about ten minutes of knowing them. Goosebumps 2023 aside, I have watched so many exhaustingly bland teens in films and TV shows that I assumed my ability to enjoy an actor under about 25 was gone forever, but no! Look! Here they are, being Interesting! ESPECIALLY the lead...Nell Verlaque? Show me MORE, IMMEDIATELY.

[side detour #2: oh my god, she was also in Big Shots?? TUNA are you KIDDING ME this might finally drive me to the seas, the high ones specifically]

+ In other news, the violence and gore made me sick to my stomach (also like Slasher!), and after about fifteen minutes I simply could not watch most of the terrible scenes. Or at least, I didn't want to, but sometimes I didn't turn away fast enough and they got me. I will be having nightmares, thanks!!!

+ Fortunately I will simply soothe them away with the correct AU in which someone else is the killer because of reasons, and after her remaining family members are brutally butchered, Quasi-Uncle Patrick Dempsey simply steps up to offer her a home and several years' worth of trauma therapy. 🤗

#will Televinita ever learn her lesson about R-rated slashers? NO #she will simply continue to take psychic damage in pursuit of a spine chill while bemoaning the lack of PG13 options #it was a unique idea with a pretty decent and creative plot! just. it made me feel bad in my soul for having seen (most of) it #movie night with televinita

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deadpresidents · 5 months

Note

What other campaign souvenirs do you have with that badge you shared?

It's actually not a ton of stuff. I wish I'd been better over the years about collecting campaign memorabilia because I'm always jealous whenever I see someone who has a cool collection of things.

I have a ton of buttons and stickers from the Obama campaigns, as well as an Obama '08 yard sign that's signed by Obama. I have a stack of Clinton/Gore bumper stickers that I somehow held on to after all these years.

In 2000, I was young and idealistic and caught up in the excitement of the first Presidential campaign I was of legal voting age for, so I jumped on the Bill Bradley bandwagon very early on in the Democratic primaries. Most of you probably have no idea who Bill Bradley even was, but he was the 2000 version of Bernie Sanders once the legendary Paul Wellstone decided against running for President. Deep down, we all knew that Vice President Gore was going to be the nominee, but there was some excitement for Bradley early on even though he didn't win anything and was basically finished by Super Tuesday. I have some Bradley buttons and stickers, and I have an invitation to a Bill Bradley fundraiser that was going to be held at the home of Geoff Petrie in Granite Bay, a wealthy suburb of Sacramento. At the time, Petrie was the General Manager of the Sacramento Kings and he was a close friend of Bradley, so that was exciting for a 20-year-old basketball fanatic. (Oh...for those who really don't know anything about Bill Bradley, I should also note that not only was he a U.S. Senator from New Jersey, but before that he was star basketball player who won two NBA titles with the New York Knicks and is in the pro and college Basketball Hall of Fame.)

Other than that, I have some posters and a ton of buttons from various campaigns. When I lived in Austin and was regularly going to the @lbjlibrary I would often buy handfuls of the assorted campaign buttons that they sold in their gift shop. I don't know if they still sell them, but it was a huge collection from dozens of different Presidential campaigns from various decades. I think the oldest button I ended up with was for Al Smith's 1928 Democratic Presidential campaign. I'm especially fond of my Wendell Willkie button because it's always fun to mention Wendell Willkie. I got a bunch of Nixon and McGovern buttons and even got a Romney button, but it's not for Mitt -- it's for the unsuccessful campaign for the 1968 GOP nomination by his father, former Michigan Governor George Romney. I have a McGovern/Eagleton button from 1972, which is interesting because Thomas Eagleton was nominated as McGovern's Vice Presidential running mate at the 1972 Democratic Nation Convention and then dropped from the ticket for Sargent Shriver just nineteen days later. And of course, I got a TON of LBJ and LBJ-related buttons -- from the 1964 campaign which sometimes featured LBJ and sometimes featured Hubert Humphrey and sometimes featured both LBJ and HHH, and from the 1960 Kennedy/Johnson campaign.

Here are a few of them (the "We Shall Overcome" button is my favorite:)

The coolest bit of political memorabilia that I have are a set of staff passes from the House Judiciary Committee's impeachment proceedings for President Clinton's impeachment in 1998, including one from the day that the special prosecutor, Kenneth Starr, testified. Former Republican Congressman James E. Rogan, who was one of the thirteen Republicans House Managers who actually acted as prosecutors during the Senate trial following the President's Clinton's impeachment, wrote a really great book called Catching Our Flag: Behind the Scenes of a Presidential Impeachment (BOOK | KINDLE) that I reviewed way back in 2011. In the book, Congressman Rogan (he's a Judge in California now) mentioned that he was a collector of political memorabilia and that he was very cognizant of the fact that he was playing a part in a major historical event -- which I mentioned in the review -- and I also noted that I respected how fair his book was despite the fact that he was a major political player in the impeachment and that he was so clearly from the opposite side of the political tracks than I am. His fairness actually resulted in President Clinton offering to help when Rogan was struggling to win re-election to Congress after the impeachment (which Rogan was grateful for, but turned down because it would hurt him more with his GOP supporters than any Democrats on the fence). ANYWAY...after I posted my review, Congressman Rogan contacted me and thanked me for the review and SENT ME SOME OF THE PASSES THAT HE HAD SAVED FROM THE IMPEACHMENT:

Here's the review of Congressman Rogan's book from 2011 (go buy it). Here's a post where I wrote a little more detail about getting the passes sent to me (and about the whole idea of tickets to impeachment proceedings in general). Also, as I noted in that post, if you are a stalker or a hater, don't go to the address on the letter that Congressman Rogan sent me in that photo because I haven't lived in Texas since 2011. (Also, if you're a stalker who looks like Shakira or Tessa Thompson, just send me a message and I'll give you my address.)

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scarletflags · 2 years

Text

greedy for power, for honour, for love.

noh sanghyun. cis male. he/him. presenting high sage yisu, thirty two-year-old firebender and high sage. inventive yet amoral, they find themself apprehensive of fire lord chaesan’s reign. will this be their salvation or their undoing ?

ooc / stoppp booing pls i know i have msgs to answer but it’s lia again back again breathing life into yet another tv trope. here’s yisu, your very own sinister minister. a one-man corrupt church, if you will. like this to plot! or mssg me on diss court -> 𝒍𝒊𝒂.#4992 :) you’ll find plots at the bottom of this post. he’s a work in progress so sorry if this is all a bit messy for now! but please plot with him he has my entire heart alreadyyyy.

"but what do we have left once we abandon the lie? chaos. a gaping pit—waiting to swallow us all.”

name high sage yisu

alias lord yisu, yisu, yi, high sage

age 32

gender cis male

pronouns he/him

status commoner

ability firebender

alliance the fire sages, house ???

occupation high sage

personality inventive clever organized subservient amoral pessimistic

appearance outside of rituals, yisu doesn’t wear the high sage’s headgear nor their typical complicated attire. he’s most often seen wearing very simple long-sleeved red silk robes that touches the floor, reminiscent of air nomad robes; with sleeves sewed full of pockets. though it appears light, the silk is quite thick and in the light, complicated patterns are seen embroidered into the material. his hair is often slicked away from his face.

facts though he’s not a noble, everyone has taken to calling him lord yisu. most know him as a passive and subservient presence in court, loyal to the sages and to the crown—though like anyone in power he suffers his fair share of rumors regarding alleged impropriety. some whisper that he conducts secret experiments involving anything from poisons to necromancy, some say he’s a eunuch while some say he bends the sages’ vows to suit his needs and indulges desires of the flesh. his skill for politics, which is unusual for a sage, has earned him the caution of some figures in court. he can often be found praying in the high temple at hari bulkan, tending to the dragonbone catacombs, or burning the midnight oil in the palace library.

faceclaim noh sanghyun

“if you go where no man goes, you get what no man has.”

cw/ death violence gore ?

born in the slums of ???, yisu was raised by his mother, who worked as a servant. he had an older sister. he never knew his father.

when yisu was young, him and his sister were taken from their home by bandits then sold to a man that fancied himself a sorcerer. this man worked yisu’s sister as a servant and used yisu as a kind of assistant. in the end, this man tried to bleed yisu for a ritual but he managed to escape—now, he’ll say he remembers being lifted out of his cage by wings of pure light.

barely making it out, yisu swore to survive so he could come back for his sister. he managed to make his way as a thief in a nearby city until he was forced to move by a rival. in his new city, eventually, he befriended a young air nomad and they partnered up for the scheme that ultimately lifted them out of poverty—yisu would steal items from petty thieves and his air nomad friend would return these items to their owners for a price. soon enough, everyone in the big city knew who to go to if their belongings were stolen. yisu grew rich quick, but eventually his friend left town, and yisu was left tired of stealing. though he spent a large amount of his fortune tracking his sister, he still couldn’t find her.

he followed the money and found himself in the care of a noble house, working as an errand boy. one in the family was very spiritual—this person helped yisu discover his firebending abilities and engaged his curiosity in religion, which had been burning low since his escape.

quickly making the connection between a more spiritual life and stronger firebending, yisu became truly devout. nearing sixteen years of age, yisu was given by the noble family to the fire sages’ temple to be a servant. one of the fire sages found potential in him and so took him in into training.

yisu persevered and worked hard, seeing with clarity that religion was his path to power, and power was his path to finding his sister. the rest is history. with the interjection of house ???, he was voted into position at twenty-six and served under the previous fire lord for six years before chaesan sat the throne.

yisu continues to serve the current fire lord, having been the one to crown chaesan and her named heirs; appearing fully loyal to the crown and the royal family.

fun facts? not very fun tbh. yisu found his sister years before, but all he could retrieve was her corpse that had been rotting in the sorcerer’s basement for some time. this corpse is kept in a deep basement of his residence in hari bulkan. now, he’s working on finding the sorcerer. what he’ll do with the sorcerer is anybody’s guess.

plots.

childhood plots! -for a member of a noble house he served when he was a kid. a plot where him and a noble were playing somewhere they shouldn’t be but got caught and yisu was punished/beat/whatever for it because “u put this noble’s life in danger” when really it was the noble that wanted to play out there -for a member of a noble house he served when he was a kid. childhood crushes! maybe he liked some noble kid or some noble kid liked him or they liked each other but they were inevitably separated because him and his mother changed employ quite frequently. -someone he played with in the slums and he had no idea they were royalty/nobility.

friendship/enemy/miscellaneous plots! -someone who looks down on him because of his background as a commoner -constant sparring partner -someone who secretly transacts with him for his poisons and potions -someone very close to him, who knows a lot about him and is helping him retrieve the sorcerer. -the noble house that interfered with the voting system of the high sage to instill yisu. -the tyrion to his varys. someone equally clever whom he often finds himself plotting with. -the noble family with whom his true loyalties lie (probably a great house, or an old/rich house)

romance plots! -i have one i really want which is a one-sided love plot with the child of the noble house that took him in. they spent a lot of time together and yisu ended up falling for them, but sadly they had eyes for another. (preferably this is the person that helped him discover his bending and introduced religion into his life, but it doesn’t have to be.) he still loves them to this day but he has also taken his vows as a sage, so this love is a dead end. -fwb because the rumors do be true. yisu doesn’t use flesh as a means of gaining power and won’t take it as payment for any kind of transaction, but he indulges it for the very simple reason of sating the appetite. -real real romance someone he loves who loves him back, and they continue to see each other in secret though they know this will lead to nowhere.

little bit tired now and this is probably so messy so i’ll stop here. maybe i’ll think of more later!

#𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖕𝖔𝖜𝖊𝖗 · ( yisu / interaction )#𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖕𝖔𝖜𝖊𝖗 · ( yisu / visual )#𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖕𝖔𝖜𝖊𝖗 · ( yisu / muse )#riseintro

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willow-marygreen · 7 months

Text

Partner in crime (and broken trust) | Bellatrix Black x f!reader

A/N : Yep, I'm definitely gonna finish this challenge in november.

Prompt "I will call out your name, but you won't call back" | "They won't care about you"

Pairing : Bellatrix Black x f!reader

Warning : Torture curse | Major character death | Blood | Graphic description of gore

Pain.

It's the only thing you can think about at this moment. Stronger than humiliation; stronger than terror.

A dull pain that takes over your thoughts; gets under your skin; tears your organs like tissue and bangs against your bones.

It wraps itself around your stupid heart like a chain; makes it beat so hard you fear it will jump out of your chest.

It bites your lungs, making them deflate like helium balloons.

It hits your temples like a hammer; so loud that you expect your eyes to pop out of their sockets.

When the shock stops, you open your eyes. Expecting to see your brain spilled on the ground; your ribcage outside your body with the vestige of your lungs; all in a pool of red blood, shining in the light of the candlesticks. See the reflection of your torn face, your mouth in shreds; bloody nose; the skull shattered.

And in the middle of the carnage, your heart.

Still flapping like a fish out of water. Ripping from its arteries, choking on its own blood.

But none of that.

Just your dark robes and the polished floors of Malfoy Manor. And your resentment and your hatred. Burning flame, devouring your insides.

"You... you... won't... get away... with... this."

The effort you have to make to articulate these words makes you feel like you're spitting out razor blades.

And the woman laughs. Her wand still pointed in your direction. Her eyes shine with a gleam of madness and a sadistic smile stretches her lips.

Thinking that you happened to find her likeable during your school years...

Louna was a kid on the Quidditch team. Not mean but not friendly either, obsessed with winning. She could be pleasant when we were on her team, but she was a real pain with the others. You now realize how much power influences pathetic minds. Give a fool a crown and he'll think he's a king.

"You talk a lot for a traitor."

Her high-pitched voice makes you want to punch her in the face. But your own wand lies on the ground, broken in two. You grit your teeth to hold back a groan of pain. You should have suspected that. A coward like Louna can only be a specialist in ambushes.

"You know... I would never have believed that about you... A spy, really! A waste of talent, if you ask me... You could have become an excellent Death Eater... But hey, too bad! It's your problem after all!

Bitch.

You would like to silence her; making her swallow her satisfied smile. But your feet are as if nailed to the ground. Your breath comes out like the hiss of a snake. Each breath painfully scrapes your lungs.

"Tell me, Y/N. Where is your girlfriend now?"

The air gets stuck in your throat. Your vision blurs with tears almost immediately. The taste of blood fills your mouth as your teeth pierce your gums again.

Betrayal hurts even more than torture.

During the long seconds when your body was under the effects of the Cruciatus Curse, the memories of your coming here took a back seat. But now it's all coming back to hit you with the power of a train.

She's in the next room... Because she's the one who asked me to come here...

Silent tears flow down your cheeks without you being able to control it. You don't want to cry in front of Louna, but your body doesn't care.

The taste of betrayal rises in your throat like nausea. Stronger and more repulsive even than that of blood.

The one I treated like a friend... Protected with my life... Loved with all my heart and soul combined... Sold me out for a better place in this damn organization...

The most painful thing is undoubtedly that you never doubted her. You knew how attached she was to her family's values, but you naively thought that she valued you more than that.

Love put out your eyes and now it will take your life.

You have no illusions. No one betrays Voldemort and can hope to escape alive. It's only a matter of minutes; or seconds, perhaps? It all depends on when Louna gets tired of playing with you.

You barely feel your knees hit the floor. Your body is terribly heavy and you can no longer move or speak.

So you close your eyes. As you always did so well. You let your mind wander to happier times as your spirit slowly extricates itself from your body.

...

"It's not possible, you're cheating!"

You crossed your arms over your school uniform, giving Bellatrix an indignant look. The teenager shrugged her shoulders, a mischievous smile on the lips.

"Or maybe I'm better than you at ricochets."

You looked at her from head to toe with a suspicious look.

"It's not possible, you didn't know how to do it ten minutes ago!"

She tilts her head, still that playful glint in her eyes.

"What do you want, I'm good, that's all."

She extends the hand hidden in her skirt to behind her back. You follow her gesture with your gaze, suspicious.

"What are you hiding behind your back?"

She flutters her eyelids in a falsely innocent look.

"Nothing at all."

"Well of course I'll believe you!"

With a quick movement, you threw yourself at her to intercept her arm. But she is faster and dodged at the last moment. However, caught in her momentum, she fells backwards. She took the opportunity to place an arm behind your waist. You let out a small cry as your body hit the grass.

She bursts out laughing as you tried to free yourself from her embrace. Blades of grass get tangled in her curly hair. You tried to dust off the dust that now stains your uniform. You tried to look angry but your smile betrayed you.

"Stop laughing, Bella! It's not funny !"

She laughed harder and you felt her laughter infect you. Soon there were two of you laughing like crazy. Hair full of grass, the rays of the moon barely illuminating you, and the cries of wild animals coming from the forest.

This would be terrifying for anyone but not you. And right now you wouldn't want to be anywhere else but here. Together.

Your laughter ended up slowly fading. Giving way to a comfortable silence.

You will always remember that the sky was full of stars that evening.

Her hand slowly slipped into yours. Your heart immediately raced as a strange feeling settled in your stomach. You didn't know what it was but you didn't want it to end.

"Hey, she murmured after a moment, are you going to snitch?"

The question came out of nowhere and brought you out of your torpor. You blinked several times, not sure you understood.

"To Filch," she confirmed with a grimace. eI know you're trying to establish yourself as prefect."

She pretended nothing but there was a particular sound in her tone. You felt like she was testing you.

"Of course not ! you propped yourself up on your elbows, eager to return the favor. "And you, are you going to say that I cheated to get this job?"

She smiled mischievously, and for a second you really thought she was going to report you. Then she laughed again, softer this time. Then she stood up again

"We're even, then. I don't say anything, you don't say anything. We are partner in crime now."

She held out her hand to you, like a promise, and you shook it without hesitation.

"Yes, partner in crime."

The memory evaporated with your last breath. Leaving as witness only a sad smile on your lips and a tear in the corner of your eye.

#whumptober 2023 #day 2 #angst #bellatrix black #bellatrix lestrange #female reader #xreader #reader insert #gxg #gxg imagine

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teklarn · 3 years

Text

𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝔀𝓸𝓾𝓵𝓭 𝓬𝓻𝔂 𝓽𝓸𝓸, 𝓲𝓯 𝓲𝓽 𝓱𝓪𝓹𝓹𝓮𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓽𝓸 𝔂𝓸𝓾

character(s): izuku midoriya x gn!reader (x katsuki bakugou)

a/n: gosh i love angst (quick note!! i edit to the best of my ability, however it’s easy to miss things, and i type 100 words per minute, so im sorry if i miss some things!) this ain’t a poly relationship btw, i don’t feel like i could write that well (no shame to people who do!! personally i feel like i would butcher it)

reblogs are greatly appreciated!

based off the song: it’s my party by lesley gore

summary: y/n realizes going to katsuki bakugou’s wedding was a mistake

genre: angst all the way shawties

warnings: light cursing, heartbreak, alcohol, one-sided pining (reader), aged up/pro-hero au, sad reminiscing bc ahaha bakugou made us sad :’) and a crap load of references to the song, friend zoning (eesh)

word count: 2,566

ik yall are waiting for a part 2 of brutal and part 3 of you’re not my boyfriend but this idea just struck i had to get it down pls

- - -

“let’s raise a toast to our finest lovebirds, my best friend and his wife, katsuki bakugou and ochaco uraraka!” kirishima took a sip of champagne.

you lifted your beverage in unison with the others seated at your table but did not drink. you blinked down at the fizzing beverage.

“we wish you all the best,” kirishima said. “you and your best buds have no doubt you two’ll be known as some of the most indestructible symbols of peace.”

another wave of applause passed among the crowd. the last toast was finished and the music resumed. your entire table left you sitting. it wasn’t like you knew anyone here, anyways. nobody except for the few classmates bakugou was still in touch with.

those people consisted of izuku midoriya, who was sitting at the table across from you, as well as across the dance floor.

the lights twinkled up again, red, blue, and green flashing along the floor.

you couldn’t deny it. bakugou in a red suit, uraraka in a wedding dress fell just above her knees, a red bow tied around her waist. you did not doubt that if you were to be sold as a healthy person on the black market, that dress would still be worth more than you.

the only comfort you had was midoriya, who had greeted you when you came in, but the two of you had exchanged no further words. but he looked equally as miserable as you.

uraraka and bakugou were perfect together. they looked happy. and you were happy to see bakugou happy. happy to see uraraka happy with him.

bakugou dipped his newlywed wife to the beat of the music. her back arched perfectly into his large hands.

what hurts the most was that, while you wished it was you instead of her on that dance floor, you knew it wouldn’t work out.

not that you and bakugou wouldn’t have worked out. the two of you were a perfect couple!

what hurts the most was that it was a wish, and in every near universe, you still didn’t have that ring.

uravity and dynamight simply looked...happier.

you stormed out, shaking. why was your katsuki kissing her? holding her when it should have been you?

deep down, you knew you had no right. you and bakugou were barely a couple. throughout his years at yuuei, he’d calmed down immensely. so much that he could strike up a conversation with nearly everyone. as it turns out, introverted katsuki bakugou was a shameless flirt.

the two of you exchanged flitting glances from time to time, but it was never anything serious. at least to him, it wasn’t.

you knew he’d never taken the flirting seriously, and you also knew about his aching feelings for uraraka. how he covered his mouth whenever she walked by. how his voice raised just a bit, and how soft his eyes got.

you shouldn’t have been surprised. he never even hinted that he might have had romantic feelings for you.

the entire room erupted with applause as he kissed her. the katsuki bakugou, kissing someone? pfft, only in dreams.

for some, the dream would be good. like uraraka, who had shamelessly kissed him back.

for you, it was a complete nightmare.

the blaring music, the lights, the balloons, the ‘happy graduation class of 1-A!’

you drowned it all out. you curled your knees to your chest. you had no right to be hurt. not at all. they were his emotions. you had no control over them.

loneliness clouded over you. your chest screamed with longing. a longing to be held. be wanted by him.

you were alone. nobody was coming to comfort you. nobody was-

the door opened, clicking shut just as quickly. someone sniffled.

your eyes flicked up from your knees.

“y/n? i...i’m sorry, i had no idea anyone was out here...i can leave...”

“it’s alright, izuku.”

izuku took a swig from a bottle containing something much heavier than champagne.

that same tug in your chest came about. you were tired of seeing the billboards, the magazines. tired of seeing the unquestionably perfect relationship, perfect love bloom right before you.

dynamight and uravity this! dynamight and uravity that!

the music was loud enough, the lights were busy enough, and the people were ignorant enough to neglect your crying figure.

this was supposed to be my party. he loved me first.

“you okay?” you asked, swiping your nose.

izuku looked back at the graduation party. “no, y/n. i’m not.”

“then we’re both absolute shit.” you let him help you up. “why’re you crying?”

“just...just uraraka.”

“for me it’s just bakugou.”

just as bakugou had calmed down during his years at yuuei, izuku had earned a sense of sarcasm. “are they just oblivious or stupid?”

“goodness, izuku,” you joked, pressing a hand to your shuddering chest. “calling uraraka stupid?”

he gave you a sad side-smile. you listened in silence as the upbeat music played on.

“i guess we’re the stupid ones.” he sighed, chest heaving a little.

“i guess,” you agreed. he pulled you into a hug, and you let the tears flow. your sobs corrupted your chest as you curled into his arms. “why? why did it have to be her?”

“not all heroes end up happy, y/n.”

you looked up at him, eyes puffy, sniffling. “why can’t we be part of that small portion of heroes who are?”

izuku looked up, trying to neglect the water pooling in his own eyes. “i guess...well, not to be a narcissist—” he let out a breathy chuckle, “―but if you noticed, all the greatest heroes die with some kind of regret.”

“maybe i don’t want to be a good hero.” you ignored his efforts to lighten the mood.

“heroes don’t always get to choose whether they’ll be good or not. some things just happen.”

“i’m sorry, izuku.” you swiped at your eyes. “you’re hurt just as badly as me. i don’t want to make it—”

“hey.” izuku gently pried your hands away from your face, fingers ghosting over your wrists. his emerald eyes gleamed as they stared into yours. “don’t invalidate your feelings just because of me. we’re both hurting, but that doesn’t mean i won’t listen to you.”

your sobs came back again, and you fell into his chest.

bakugou spun uraraka, laughing gently as she twirled in his arms. his eyes lit up whenever he saw her. they twinkled. he sparkled. his smile was dazzling. and he was everything you never had.

you were a heartbroken mess, even after all these years. there was a list of all the reasons you were mad at him, and yourself.

your sobs were almost uncontrollable, and at this point, you were shocked nobody came to check on you. not that you cared very much. even if you were making a small effort to hide your face, it still would have been nice to feel a touch on your shoulder, someone perhaps shaking you gently to make sure you were awake.

not that you’d tell them what was wrong. you just wanted to know somebody cared, and to have the option to talk to somebody if you needed to do so.

but here you were. cheesy, upbeat fifties music echoed along the walls of the room. bakugou had secretly adored artists from back then, and you’d often catch him dancing and singing along to long-forgotten oldies.

if you weren’t his best friend, you would have blown off coming here and binge-watched ‘my best friend’s wedding’ and sobbed.

your head was down, forehead leaning on the backs of your forearms stacked upon each other. tears were streaming down, your shoulders shuddering with each weak breath sucked in and released.

until bakugou chose you, you had no reason to smile. at least not now. by no means were you desperate. love sometimes did that to people. made them look needy, look unwanted.

you’ve had plenty of options in the past, but the one person who you wanted didn’t want you back. didn’t even care.

since the graduation party, uraraka and you had been a bit tense. a part of her felt like she knew how you felt, and how bakugou mattered to you more than anyone in the world.

after the first year, she began abandoning izuku and ignoring his emotions towards her. after she and bakugou found each other, they had already known they would settle with one another.

you and izuku had never been close, but you were both good friends and were there when you needed one another.

he had walked you through your pain of senior year, and you’d helped him reach a lot of his goals, too. but bakugou just didn’t seem to care anymore. not even about becoming the number one hero. he looked at uraraka like she was his goal, his new dream, the reason he was happy. he looked at her and saw that he had the world in his hands and wanted to keep it that way.

you? you were pluto. exiled from the rest of the planets. exiled from the rest of his options, when you used to be his first.

“y/n?”

you and izuku backed away from each other. you’d both been crying for quite a bit. how long it had been, you were both unsure.

uraraka now stood at the door. you peeked into the window, leaning back a bit and catching glances of the blonde, who was currently being clapped on the back by his friends, congratulated for ‘getting the girl’.

“are you guys okay?’ uraraka asked.

“would you cry, uraraka?”

she tilted her head. “what?”

you pushed yourself off of izuku. “do you think you’d cry if you saw me kissing him, too?”

“what’re you―”

“you would cry, too! you would be sobbing!” you stabbed an accusatory finger at her. “you were my friend! you knew how i felt, and you’re kissing him?”

uraraka’s eyes widened. “i...i’m sorry. it all just happened, and i—”

“shut the hell up, uraraka. you ruined this party. for me and izuku.”

perhaps you went a bit far, but in your heart and your mind, you knew she deserved it. she knew. uraraka had known.

izuku gave uraraka a sympathetic look before pressing a hand to your back and leading you away.

it still came as a bit of a shock that uraraka had let bakugou invite you to their wedding. gosh. little, domestic bakugou, sealing invitations and batting his eyes at his oh-so-sweet wife so he could invite his best friend.

little domestic uraraka sweetly kissing her fiance on the cheek and pouting as she said, “how can i say no?”

it was disgusting, and everything you wanted to have with him.

you allowed yourself to be selfish this one time. after all, you deserved it. you’d endured hours of bakugou blabbering on about how sweet uraraka was. everything you weren’t.

you took the bottle to champagne. your ankles were aching as you stumbled out of the room. your vision blurred, becoming foggy with tears. not one person stopped you. you guessed because nobody noticed.

like graduation night, you slumped down right outside the doors to the party, the music, lights, and laughter muffled. the only difference was that you had a bottle of champagne and the man of your dreams was gone. for good, this time.

“i wish she noticed me. it was like, after first year, the uraraka i knew just vanished.”

you nodded. you and midoriya were wandering the streets, cool air brushing down your neck and on your face as cars passed.

“uraraka was so sweet, but she lost feelings so fast and...ugh.” midoriya ran a hand through his hair, ruffling his curls. “i’m still a bit...baffled. i know people change, but she and kacchan both switched up so fast.”

“i don’t want to say they’re jackasses, but they’re kind of jackasses.”

izuku rubbed your shoulder as you leaned on him while the two of you walked. “don’t say that.”

“sorry,” you breathed.

“no more being sorry. being sorry all the time leads to shit like this.”

you chuckled. “yeah, it does.” you sniffed. “did i take you away from the party? you can go back if you want.”

he shrugged. “’s all right. i don’t mind.”

“do you want to be here or would you rather be in there?”

“out here with you. i can’t be there right now.”

“me too.”

“let me guess.”

you looked up and scoffed softly.

“this was supposed to be your party?”

you nodded. “my party, my groom. i’m not supposed to be crying at my party, am i?”

your friend shook his head. “not at all. cheer up, y/n.”

izuku slid down the wall, sitting beside you. he rested his arms on his knees, twisting open his own bottle of champagne. “you look like a mess.”

“and you look like you need anger management.” you smiled.

he grinned back. “do i now?”

“yeah, you do. you should have seen yourself sitting there. all alone, the one person drinking something that wasn’t the fifty-thousand yen drinks.”

“54,795.75 yen, to be exact.”

you raised an eyebrow. “you’re insane. you kidding me? why do you know that?”

“i was the weird kid who took notes on everyone in the class. of course i would know this. i’m offended you think i wouldn’t.”

you tilted your head back in laughter. “gosh, izuku.”

“mhm.”

there was a pause. comfortable silence filled the space, broken by you sigh after gulping down your drink. “so they’re gone?”

“i’d rather not dwell on it.”

“how old are we now?”

izuku gave a breathy chuckle. “twenty-five.”

you smiled. “really, now? and i thought i would be married by now.”

“me too. ‘s a shame.”

“how about, if we’re both still not married by the time we’re forty, we get married to each other, adopt three children and we become hot parents.”

“three?”

“yeah, we can have a mini hero agency.”

“that’s horrifying. but i agree. having a mini hero agency would be pretty amazing.”

“i’m glad you agree with me, izuku.” you brushed a curl from his eyes.

“can’t wait until i’m forty,” he smirked.

“me neither.”

“maybe by then we would have forgotten all of this?”

“we’ll be fighting a villain, and we get our memories erased, and then we fall in love because we wake up beside each other in the hospital. we’re both equally confused.” you peppered him with jokes. “it’s a journey we will go on together.”

“can’t wait until my memory gets erased.”

“do you wanna get out of here?”

izuku shook his head. “it’s their wedding. we can’t. we shouldn’t.”

you gave him a silly look.

“you’re always such trouble, y/n.”

“if you hate it, then wipe that stupid grin off your face.”

izuku’s features softened. “maybe i like it. but only sometimes.” he took your head and lead you out, leaving his drink behind while you took yours.

a single tear rolled down your cheek. he didn’t erase all your pain, nor your feelings for bakugou. it wasn’t what you needed, no.

you just needed a friend. a real one. one that wouldn’t steal your dream from you. and that’s what you knew you had right now.

besides, things could happen in the future, right?

you smiled, and let the cold air touch your skin.

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purplellamanator · 3 years

Text

So, I'm sorry I don't really know what to call this and did not give it a name- but, this is a product heavily inspired by these head-canon's created and posted by @detectivegeekshin! Please check them out if you haven't already! (if you're following me though you probably already did :D) This is insanely long though and I hope ya'll like it! Sorry @detectivegeekshin that it took me so long! I've been working on this for more than two months I think- so again, sorry!!! Thank you for allowing me to use your ideas to make, what was supposed to be a drabble, story and I hope I did your head-canon's justice! Please excuse my grammar mistakes! I tried my best to clean it up! Thank you again!

Read below the cut for the story :)

Stealing wasn't exactly the word he wanted to use. He didn't consider himself to be a thief. Was it really even stealing if he was taking it from someone it didn't actually belong to? Shinichi didn't think so.

And it wasn't about giving the wealth back to the poor. He wouldn't necessarily call himself Robin Hood either. It was about returning something to its rightful place; to the rightful owner.

It was wrong. All of it. It went against the very morals he himself created to follow when he first decided he'd be the greatest detective of the era. Stealing was wrong no matter if it was stealing something that was already stolen. It was the law and if the law was followed, then it would work out correctly in the end either way.

But that way of thinking wasn't always true. He realized that the longer he worked in this business and the more experience he gathered. It would be a nice world to live in when the law could fix everything. And unfortunately he wasn't naïve enough to actually believe that world existed anymore.

The first time he did it, it had gone against every fiber of his being. The mental crisis he thrusted his entire being into had sidelined him for weeks. So ashamed, Shinichi couldn't bring himself to work on another case. What right did he have? To expose criminals for killing? For kidnapping? For stealing?

He had no right. He was no better than those criminals. Because that was what he was now- a criminal.

The stress and just anxiety that this put him under- Shinichi considered dropping his dream of being a detective. His morals and guilt had been tearing him apart inside.

Until he turned on the news and remembered why he did what he did.

A woman was crying. They were tears of joy and happiness. And she was thankful. Thankful that the heirloom that had gone missing for decades had miraculously found its place back on her dresser. That she had no idea who or how it happened but she was grateful to whomever had given her this.

And that was when Shinichi was reminded of what finally pushed him to this. What made him crack.

He was a detective and he had done his job. He found the precious necklace that had eluded every private eye hired before him. He located it and all they had to do was retrieve it and return it back where it belonged.

But the police couldn't. They needed warrants and that took time. Time they did not have enough of. It would be sold once more on the black market and disappear likely for another decade before they were even served.

The adrenaline that had coursed through him when he finally decided what he would do. He had never felt more satisfied. There had been no disguises; no gimmicks. Just himself. His own face and his own brain. And they still hadn't caught him. It had been easy. So much easier than waiting on the courts.

After that day he saw the news, Shinichi had walked with his head held higher than any other day. He didn't know why exactly. It wasn't like anybody else besides him knew what he had done. No one but him was aware that the woman got that necklace back because of his own actions. Yet hearing people congratulate and whisper about how amazing the mystery was made him smug.

Shinichi told himself it would be a one time thing. Seeing that woman from before distraught and sobbing that her family's prized possession would likely never be returned in her lifetime- it had done something to him. It made him act. Even though he usually did so well detaching himself emotionally from his cases, that one alone had gotten to him. But he'd do better next time. Even if the outcome would be bittersweet and leave him feeling like he failed, he could not do it again. No matter who the victim was or if they cried.

But he didn't stick to that clearly because he did it again a month later, and then soon after that, and again after that.

His excuse each time- he had done so well not getting caught before. What could it hurt to do it again? It was easier. It was faster. With his genius he was sure he would get away with it no matter how many times he tried this. He couldn't be caught. He couldn't be beat. He was just too . . good at it.

Until he wasn't.

He had gotten too cocky; too arrogant. He should've stopped while he was ahead. He had gotten away with it so many times and yet he kept pushing it. And he pushed the boundaries each time. He got more and more careless than the last. And now he was stuck explaining to the last person he ever wanted to find out, why he was parading around as some law abiding detective when he was really a thief.

In the midst of his newly found hobby, Ran- one of his best friends, had realized he was not acting the same as usual. Shinichi didn't allow her to join him to certain cases anymore. He would be secretive about where he was going afterwards as well as if she had somehow already been there, he had even told her to straight up leave.

He should've known that Ran would notice something sooner. It wasn't like him to ever hide things from her and it definitely was not normal for him to tell her to leave a crime scene- unless it was a rather dangerous one. Cases that had to do with robbery didn't normally fall under that. Those were the cases he'd usually rather her witness. She didn't like anything with too much gore and like any normal person, she got scared if she even saw a corpse.

But each time he told her to leave or that she shouldn't follow him. Most of the time he did lie and say it was because he worried it would turn violent. Other times he didn't give a reason. And he definitely should've noticed her suspicion because he normally loved having her witness his cases and deductions. He liked impressing her.

Unfortunately, he didn't notice in time that he was actually worrying her. His sudden change was concerning to her and she ended up following him when he said the Inspector had called and asked for him to come by the station.

Shinichi never went to the station. There had never been a call. Instead, donning his change of clothes, he took a train almost a full hour out till he reached his actual destination.

When he said he had started pushing the boundaries, he had meant it. No longer did his thefts remain with cases within the Japanese Police. He started digging for unresolved cases in the black markets.

The entire time Ran had been tailing him. She had followed him the entire way and he hadn't noticed a single thing, which he didn't know if he should be annoyed by or impressed.

When he had almost been shot however and Ran's foot suddenly came down on the guards head, he settled on being impressed. Because though he was furious she had followed him into such a dangerous underground location, she had saved his ass. And it didn't help that Ran was aware of that fact.

She hadn't pressured him for an explanation. Shinichi thought she would yell at him and demand to know what he was doing and why. Ran hadn't done any of that. Instead, she took it upon herself to be his lookout as he finished what he originally set out to do.

Ran kept her thoughts to herself at first. It had made him nervous considering he was expecting her anger. When he hadn't gotten it, he didn't know what to expect now. Her moral compass was just as strong as his had been. When she realized what he was doing- and she definitely already had, he could only assume it'd upset her. Why wouldn't it? At this point he was no better than-

"Are you Kaito Kid?"

Kaito Kid. Obviously he knew who she was talking about. And it was actually insulting and ticked him off.

What he did took more skill. He wasn't some magic freak with a couple fog machines and pet doves. He had no disguise. If Shinichi wanted something, he walked in there and took it. With his own face.

With a stony expression, he denied the accusation. As far as he was concerned, he always thought of the Phantom Thief as, exactly that, a thief. Truthfully, he hadn't run into the magician too much after his new found discovery. And at the thought he realized that it must mean Kid wasn't after just any treasure. He must've been looking for something in particular which reminded him that he didn't know the guy's actual motive behind his crimes. Maybe like him, he realized, Kid might have a valid reason for turning to crime.

When he started sympathizing with a criminal however he noticed how far in his own crimes he actually was.

Ran took his denial in stride. She didn't seem all that surprised by his response. She clearly didn't actually think he was the Phantom Thief. But oddly enough, she didn't really ask for an explanation. If he wasn't doing this as Kid, then why was he doing it? She didn't claim to want to know.

Oddly enough, that annoyed him as well. It should be a good thing she wasn't drilling him for answers. She was just accepting what he was doing and not going to stop him.

"You're that vigilante thief they're talking about all over the news. . . aren't you? The Night Baron?"

Night Baron? Out of all the things, that's what they decided to go with? And though it was exactly what he was, the word vigilante left a bad taste in his mouth.

This accusation was different however. Unlike the Phantom Thief one, she uttered this one with confidence. If he denied this, Ran would not believe him. There was no point in trying anyway when she had literally caught him in the act.

It took him aback a little that she had caught on so easily. The Night Baron wasn't as common in the news. He hadn't been doing this nearly as long as the other well known thief. It made him question if she'd been contemplating this for awhile. How long had she suspected him? And how could she not say this without any ounce of anger?

"Well. . . I have faith in you, Shinichi," she finally said when he asked. "I know you and I know you wouldn't be doing this unless you had a good reason or you thought it was right."

"And what you're doing is right. The Night Baron helps people."

The amount of trust she put in his character made him feel warm inside. It was embarrassing but that sentiment made the corners of his eyes almost prickle. Shinichi hadn't realized how desperately he had wanted to hear those words. He thought he had come to terms with his guilt. But clearly he had not if hearing Ran say that almost made him get choked up.

Ran didn't think less of him for losing his morals. She didn't look at him in disgust. She approved of it. She encouraged him for doing it. No explanation given yet and she had already determined that what he did, he did for good. He had no desire or intention for personal gain. And he had never felt like someone had ever seen him so clearly before.

Again, she didn't push for his actual reasonings. Based off her earlier assumptions, she likely already knew them. But though it was clear she didn't think it, he didn't want to risk her assuming he was some mindless criminal. Without her prompting, he gave his explanation.

The law wasn't enough sometimes. And though it was sad and went against what he engrained in his own head, this was the best and more efficient option. After all, if you want something done correctly, do it yourself then, right?

Ran hadn't so much as flinched. And it was staggering.

"You're not upset?" He couldn't help the disbelieving tone he used. It was almost a little concerning she wasn't more opposed to this.

Ran shrugged. "I am a little. Clearly you've been doing this by yourself and lying to me when you could've just told me."

Tell her? Why would he want to tell her?

"Shinichi, you were almost shot. Clearly you need help doing this."

Absolutely not.

That had been his initial reaction. If he ever for some reason got caught, it would likely drag her down with him. And that was the last thing he wanted.

But after sleeping on it for a quite a few days, and also that he couldn't sneak off anymore once Ran realized what he was going, Shinichi began to see the possible perks to working with a partner. And not just any partner but Ran specifically.

She was smart. He was definitely the mastermind behind all of their plans but that was not to say Ran couldn't come up with a plan of her own. Her insight gave another perspective that sometimes, he never would've thought of. If she didn't like an idea, she said it. If she thought they should do something else, she told him. Shinichi wasn't perfect. He missed things sometimes. It was good to have her pair of eyes as well.

It was just as helpful to have her brute strength as well. He assumed most would find it somewhat emasculating to be physically weaker than their female counterpart. Shinichi didn't mind at all. He was strong as well but admittedly, there were things Ran could do that he could not. Like denting a wall with her bare fist.

With Ran added into the picture, it came with even more possibilities. And perks.

The one person he didn't want to have to lie to, he didn't have to anymore. And they worked close.

He liked that too.

Ran was a good asset and made his job a whole lot easier. He really took note of that fact when instead of climbing through an air duct to sneak into some party, Ran had somehow managed to get them clearance through the front door.

And that wasn't nearly all she was able to do.

Ran is gorgeous. It was the bitter sweet conclusion he came to when Ran easily had the host eating out of the palm of her hand. The guy probably would've just given her the painting they were after if she simply asked properly.

The thought annoyed him.

He always knew he had a thing for Ran. He was pretty sure everybody knew that fact besides the girl herself. He had known her for a long time now. They had been friends since the first year of college. Their friend group was also the same and their parents both had ties to the Japanese Police Force. And she was stunning to look at. He'd argue it would be impossible for him not to take a liking to his friend.

He never told her though. He didn't know if she felt the same and after this partnership they just started, he wasn't sure it was worth the risk. If he tried a move and it scared her off, he'd have to revert to working alone. And he didn't want to do that for more reasons than one.

Like he acknowledged before, Ran was beautiful. He was not alone in that belief. It made it all the more difficult to witness guys flaunt their wealth and good looks in her face. He didn't want to see that. They didn't actually know her. Ran was his friend for three years. They didn't deserve her especially when clearly all they wanted was to undress her. And they were arguably worse criminals than half the people he got locked up.

So it was all instinct when he finally cracked. Some guy whom they didn't know was trying to dance with Ran. And he wasn't just 'trying'. He was touching and caressing her arm. Gritting his teeth, Shinichi couldn't help himself when he wrapped an arm around Ran's waist and tugged her back into his chest.

"I thought the first dance was mine, wife."

It was stupid. He had no idea why he allowed that to slip out. If he didn't have better control of his emotions he probably would've turned flustered all the way to his toes.

Ran's eyes bulged. "W-wife?!"

Honestly, her surprise couldn't be helped. He had totally blindsided her. It was his fault. And he definitely didn't have a valid enough reason to interfere like he did.

Sensing something was off between the couple, the other guy raised a brow as he eyed the arm wrapped firmly around her waist. "You don't recognize your own husband?"

Shinichi wanted to bash his own head against the wall. This was why they weren't supposed to go against the plan. Posing as her husband had definitely not been part of what they discussed earlier. It caused too many questions that they did not prepare beforehand to answer-

A hand suddenly slid up and brushed against his cheek softly. "We're not married just yet, Shin-chan. Only engaged so it's a bit too soon to be saying that," she chastised with a giggle; her acting on point.

Beyond his control, he could feel a slight heat rise to his cheeks. The intimate way she touched his face wasn't helping either. He swallowed hard as he looked down at her eyes, meeting her softened gaze.

"Oh, forgive me. I didn't see the ring."

The ring?

Ring?

A ring!

They didn't even have rings to back up their story-!

It was at that point Shinichi didn't know if the guy was actually apologetic for hitting on a married woman or suspicious that they weren't actually a couple that was engaged.

"No, it's our fault really," Ran said sheepishly. "This dummy here didn't get me the right ring size so it's sadly getting resized."

Shinichi was a little insulted. He would've most definitely did his research to get her the correct ring size before proposing.

After the guy walked away, they both found their way to the dance floor with all the other couples and joined in the slow sway. If asked why, he'd argue it was to back up their story even more. Deep down though, Shinichi knew better.

Ran was oddly silent however.

"Shin-chan?" He grumbled with forced annoyance. At the time it had completely caught him off guard. The nickname that his mother used for him. At the time he figured it was payback for the confusion he started. It didn't mean he hated the name any less.

But just as easily, she quipped back, "Wife?" She raised a brow as if to drive her point and he immediately shut his mouth.

It was definitely payback.

Ran never did question why he stepped in that night. They were on a job after all and he deduced that likely she had already forgotten what he'd done. Besides the little hiccup, every thing else went according to plan. Everything else stayed the same.

Until their next job. And the job after that. And the one after that.

Because that one night when they had taken the painting; it had started a trend of sorts. A trend where one or the either would claim to be in a relationship with the other. Before it had started with a dance which at the time, neither had been prepared for and both were too awkward to acknowledge properly. But the next time they are holding hands and eventually it becomes normal for Ran to hug his arm to her chest or for him to hold her waist.

Each time is a mystery to them. Neither have any idea what they'll be. It was a constant cycle of being married, to dating, to two already taken spouses in a very wanton and promiscuous love affair. And the stories they came up with on the spot were more extravagant and extra than the last. And they were never prepared before hand. Suddenly it was a game for them. How deep could they take this? What tale could they come up with this time? It was getting out hand. The stories were getting more detailed each time, he almost believed the lies himself.

Shinichi didn't usually snap back out of it until he saw her again in class the next day. They weren't childhood friends that had been together since preschool days. He hadn't dramatically confessed his love in London while the Big Ben chimed behind them. They hadn't shared a first kiss at Kiyomizu-dera on a school trip to Kyoto.

And it didn't stop there. If they weren't already talking to each other, they would always be touching in some form. Whether that was by a hand resting against his thigh or his fingers dragging dangerously low on her lower back.

It was a very small line they were tiptoeing against and the blatant flirting they joined in with was starting to toy with his emotions. It was one thing to elaborate or give false truths to further their disguises. It was another entirely to grope each other secretly. There was no witness to convince. Who were they showing off for other than each other?

It was getting increasingly more difficult to act like nothing was going on- or at least nothing was going on with his end. He was stressed and constantly filled with anxiety that at some point these lies would eventually bleed into their actual daily lives. Because when he once again had to suppress the urge to grab her hand as they walked from class, he was realizing once again who they actually were.

They were Shinichi and Ran. A Shinichi and Ran that had met three years ago in a shared psychology class. A Shinichi and Ran that were best friends and nothing more. A Shinichi that had been mooning after the same girl since he first met her. A Ran that as far as he could tell, didn't share that same sentiment.

This whole thing was a dangerous idea where his emotions were involved. And due to his argument that they didn't need to stop this 'charade' or whatever was the proper term to call it, it wasn't a matter of if this would affect their personal lives. It was a matter of when.

Surprisingly, it wasn't him that cracked.

It had been an honest mistake- one Shinichi didn't exactly mind. They had been in a study session with Sonoko and Nakamichi. It was a hot day and they had all taken refuge in the campus library. And to also help combat the heat, Shinichi had a water bottle that he was casually sipping on. One that Ran had easily grabbed from his hands to take a swig out of.

Shinichi didn't mind. He really didn't and truthfully, he probably wouldn't of even noticed if it weren't for the fact all their friends froze to gap at her incredulously. She had done this to him numerous times on a job. Asking for a sip of his champagne or simply stealing a bite of food off his plate. It had been a shock the first time but it in the moment he knew that was likely her intention to get a rise out of him. Now however, he was positive that she had fell into that act by mistake. She didn't mean anything by it, he was sure- not like she used to.

Nakamichi whom had been in the process of reading out his answer for one of the questions on the study guide had trailed off slowly, almost completely floored by what he had witnessed. Sonoko looked like she would fall out of her seat.

It was almost laughable that Ran didn't realize the stares that were being drilled into her. Attempting to keep his face neutral, he nudged his knee into hers gently and it was only at that she finally began to realize her mistake.

Features turning a scorching red, she quickly forced the water back into his hands. "I-I'm so sorry!" she burst. "I have no idea why I did that! I don't know what I was thinking," she sputtered. "I-it was just so hot and I-I-"

She was drowning; sinking further into her panic and he tried to save her.

"Ran, it's okay," he said calmly even though on the inside, he was freaking out just as much as she was. "It's hot outside and I've known you forever. We can share a water bottle." Shinichi was trying to play it cool. For the sake of their image with their friends.

Of course it wouldn't be enough to deter the teases they were sure to receive from their friends but what else could he do? He couldn't very well say she grabbed his by mistake. It had literally been in his hand. He had just drank out of it and been going to sip out of it again when she grabbed it. And he definitely couldn't say that she did this to him all the time when pretending to be his wife.

There was absolutely nothing they could say to excuse this. The whole scene had been way too casual even for the two of them. Sonoko, whom had made numerous jokes that they were actually a married couple, looked like this was too much for even her to comprehend. Because whether she knew he had a thing for Ran or not, anything she said before this had been harmless taunts.

"How long has then been going?!" Sonoko having determined that the study session was now over, pointed between them furiously. And that wasn't just an exaggeration. Sonoko looked irritated. Not because they were seemingly dating but because she had both missed and not been informed when it happened.

But there was nothing to tell. Nothing was going on- or rather nothing in the way she was thinking. No matter how many times they both told her that, the Suzuki heiress did not look convinced. Not even Nakamichi seemed to trust it but unlike the other girl, he thankfully kept his accusations shut till they were in private.

"Look- I'm not saying I'm mad or anything. It just sucks a little that you didn't tell me," his friend finally admitted when they left the two girls at the library.

Neither had been worried or surprised when Sonoko said they would catch up with them later. Shinichi felt bad for abandoning Ran but he knew that Sonoko would want to grill her for answers. It would've been more humiliating for both of them to be present for that.

Nakamichi wasn't nearly as difficult as Suzuki to deal with but Shinichi still found himself rolling his eyes. "I already told you," he said tiredly. "Ran and I are not dating." Shinichi wasn't sure how many more times he would have to say just that. He didn't even know if there was any other way to word what he was trying to get through his friend's apparently thick skull.

Suddenly his friend stopping walking, forcing him to do the same. For some reason his eyes were wide and a slight red was forming on his cheeks. "Oh."

Oh? Shinichi raised a confused brow. "What?"

"Well- I just never thought Ran-chan would ever. . . " Nakamichi trailed off, scratching behind his ear awkwardly. "She just doesn't seem the type, you know?"

Huh?

"Her . . type?"

And then suddenly his friend looked concerned, waving his hands in front of him defensively. "Hey- I'm not judging! Whatever you wanna call it- I support it!"

Suddenly Shinichi was freezing himself. "What the hell are you talking about?" he asked aggravatedly.

"You and Ran-chan aren't dating but you're. . . you know," Nakamichi said pointedly. "You still could've told me though. I'm not going to tell anybody. Have some faith man. We've know each other since grade school."

Shinichi's eyes bulged and all the blood rushed to his face as understanding finally hit him.

"Ran and I aren't dating and we're not doing t-that either!" he exploded.

oOo

Without Ran even needing to tell him, Shinichi knew Sonoko must've given her a hard time afterwards. Nakamichi probably wasn't nearly as difficult to deal with but it still had been an uncomfortable conversation nonetheless.

His friend actually thought that he and Ran were having . . . sex on the side.

He wouldn't be so lucky.

Shinichi was flushing at the thought alone. It had been so humiliating.

But what made it worse however was when Ran actually apologized to him again in private. She reiterated once more that she couldn't understand what she had been thinking in the moment. She also suggested that maybe it would be best to stop pretending. It was mixing them up in real life and confusing for both of them.

A small part of him was crushed by her suggestion no matter how logical it was. It hurt.

Shinichi rejected the idea. He agreed that maybe they could tone it down some. They didn't need to be a couple every time they did a job. But he also argued that sometimes the act actually did make their job easier. And deep down there was another reason he didn't want to share.

Because if they gave up their little charade, then he knew what that would mean. There was no logical circumstance that would allow him to touch her and flirt with her like when they were on a job. And he desperately didn't want to lose that. Even if their act escalated each time.

But he knew Ran had a point.

Their next job was once again at another extravagant and fancy party. And this time, they both arrived alone. The two had snuck in separately and at different times as well. And throughout the entire night, neither acknowledged the other. They acted like perfect strangers.

This time the showcase was a pearl. A pearl that would surprisingly 'go missing' by the end of the night. And like every other job they did, he had a plan that they had gone over in detail numerous times. One that didn't work out at all considering the whole night had been derailed by the sudden appearance of the Phantom Thief.

The moment that magician's calling card appeared, Shinichi knew they'd have to make adjustments to their plan and they needed to do it now. If KID followed and stuck by the time on his announcement, then the pearl they were both after would be long gone by the time they got anywhere near it.

They had to improvise which was difficult without them even talking to each other. Besides that factor added in, throwing Kid into the mix only derailed everything further. If they wanted any hope of beating Kid, then they had to act right then.

To be honest, it wasn't very surprising they were almost caught. It hadn't been particularly smart of him to continue with his intentions of stealing the pearl. Just Kaito Kid being there caused too much of a scene. Any calling card that arrived meant it would soon be followed by police and a camera crew. The Phantom Thief brought media attention wherever he went. It was dumb of him to not just give the pearl to the thief. Especially cause-

Kaito Kid had mentioned the Night Baron in his calling card. He had made it clear he was aware that he wasn't the only thief present with their sights set on the pearl. And he had mentioned the other thief by name.

That gave a lot of insight Shinichi wasn't even sure Kid meant to give. That calling card told the detective that either Kid knew what types of jobs the Night Baron targeted or worse- that he knew the true identity of the Night Baron. And if the latter was correct, then it meant that someone had been watching him for a long time. Someone was probably watching him right now. And if that were the case, Kid knew his entire plan.

The right thing to do would be to pull back. To grab Ran and bail. The plans he had made were done without taking Kaito Kid into account. But if the other thief really had been watching him, then those plans could be tossed out a window. Nothing was worth getting both him and Ran caught and possibly arrested. The logical conclusion was to escape while they could.

Shinichi was too prideful for that. And stubborn. This wasn't his first run-in with the Moonlight Thief. Shinichi had dealt with him quite a few times when helping Inspector Nakamouri or Inspector Meguire. This would however be the first time he ran into the guy when he was on one of his own little side jobs.

And he was not prepared. Fighting against him as a detective had numerous resources. He had the Japanese Police Force at his disposal. As well as when he was working his real job- he did not need to hide his own face. Not only could he be recognized by the police, he had also made a name as a criminal. If somehow his face was linked to the scene of all those crimes- he was done for.

But like the idiot he was, he couldn't help but take this as a challenge. The fact Kaito Kid mentioned him by name in his calling card told him that the thief knew he was there and also he didn't really care nor was he stressed by that.

It wasn't like him to panic. But in the end, that was what he'd done. His actions had been panicked and rushed and honestly- thoughtless. Ran hadn't scolded him at all through the night; probably thinking now wasn't the time when they were running from police officers. Shinichi could just feel her disapproval however. He knew the moment they were out of here and alone at his house, he'd receive the yelling of a lifetime.

Getting an earful would be the least of his worries if they couldn't find a way out of this building. All of the usual exit points had been closed or cut off due to Kid's warning for his appearance. The guy was a showoff and frustrating. Shinichi knew it was all part of the guy's show to leave people wondering just how he made his escape.

Shinichi wanted to throttle him.

Because of that hack of a magician, he'd get caught. Because of him, Ran would get in trouble with him. The two of them had been running nonstop and even if they had the layout of the mansion memorized, it wouldn't help with guards standing at every single entrance and exit- which is what they had been doing the moment Shinichi triggered their alarm.

The panic and just straight anxiety that he felt in that moment, could not be paralleled to anything else in his life. He knew they were running out of options. Usually he was the one with all the plans but he couldn't even gather his thoughts to try to formulate one. All he could think was how much of a sad excuse for a thief, a detective, and a friend he was-

No. If there was one thing he would do, it was to save Ran. He got Ran involved in this and he would not allow her to go down with him. Already he had given up on finding escape. Now all he was trying to do was deduce just how he was going to explain Ran's side of things. He'd force her to pose as his hostage if he had to. He would not allow her to be ruined from this-

Abruptly his thoughts caught off when Ran very suddenly gripped his fingers tightly. When he glanced over in her direction, he found she was already looking at him. They were both running as fast as they could trying to put more and more distance between them and the heavy footfalls coming from behind them. Unlike him however, she did not appear scared or stressed. In fact, while he was internally having a meltdown, Ran shot him a quick but soft smile.

And suddenly she was pushing ahead of him; her fingers still clenching his tightly as she tugged him behind her.

She was taking them further in though, he noticed incredulously. In fact she was taking them towards the rooms. Shinichi had to stare into the back of her head, as if wondering if she'd lost her mind. There was no exit to the outside this far in. Nothing but windows which they already realized was not going to be an option. There would be officers outside each window waiting for them. They would not be able to get far.

Just when he had been about to reprimand her himself, he found himself being tugged to the side again. Ran's goal hadn't been the window. She had pulled him into one of the numerous bedrooms that lined the hall. Which he guessed would be nice for shock value but again, he found himself wanting to question her. Sure hiding in a room would be unexpected at first but he highly doubted they would fail to check these rooms. All it would do is buy them some time before they were eventually captured. And a simple search would prove that he was in possession of the pearl that was currently missing.

They had put quite a bit of distance between them and the task force that was chasing them. They would have a few minutes at most. And he knew exactly what he was going to do with those few minutes.

"Ran, what the hell?" he spun on her only for his eyes to grow bigger even more. He had turned to find her turning on the table lamp and he really thought she had lost it. They were trying to hide. They should be turning lights out, he wanted to yell as he watched her come back over to him. Anything he was meaning to say was gone when she was suddenly pulling him again and he only watched in confusion as she seemed to position him just in front of the table she had walked to.

His eyes bulged when she grabbed one of his hands and placed it around her ribs. And when she placed the other very firmly onto her rear, he turned into a sputtering mess.

"R-Ran . . . " The way he said her name this time was unlike before. It was smaller he knew but it was definitely nervous as well. By this point he was less concerned about the police chasing them than he was about his partner's behavior. He had given up on talking when suddenly she was pressing her palm flat against his chest. He followed the movement with his eyes until her other hand caressed his cheek forcing him to look directly at her.

She wasn't saying anything. And even if he wanted to, she didn't give him enough time to try. Palm on his chest scrunching into a fist, all he could do was gasp when suddenly he was tugged down into a kiss.

He froze. His eyes had bulged even more he was sure and he felt his features flood red- redder than they had been. It was hard for him to comprehend what exactly was happening right now. Ran hadn't given him a chance to process anything and the moment her lips touched his, his mind went blank. He was pretty sure he wasn't even breathing at this point.

She must've felt how frozen he was because suddenly she was pushing forward more, her mouth pressing insistently against his own. As if yelling at him to do something. And that was all he needed.

Taking notice that her eyes were shut, he did the same before he leaned into her willingly. His hand that she had pressed against her rear- that he had left there mostly out of shock, grabbed her and pressed her against him more firmly. The movement made her gasp and going off her response, his other hand rose to bury itself in her hair where he angled her face to fit more comfortably against his.

The kiss was slow but it didn't mean it was any less sensuous. Tongues were brushing against each other, their breath intermingling as it panted against the other's lips. Shinichi wasn't sure exactly why Ran felt the need to kiss him now, but as far as first kisses could go- he wasn't complaining. Was a reason really necessary?

No. He didn't think so.

Was he going to ask her why she was suddenly tugging his shirt from where it was neatly tucked into his pants?

Maybe later- definitely not now though. He didn't question it. He didn't question hearing what sounded like a door opening before being slammed shut. He didn't want to. If Ran wasn't, then why should he? All he knew in that moment was that something that he had been waiting for- something he had been wanting, was finally happening and he wasn't going to waste his time trying to get an explanation of why.

But even without wasting his time, it still wasn't enough. All too soon he felt Ran begin to pull away. Her hands released their tight grip on his shirt and hair and came to rest smoothly against his chest. Shinichi felt the retreat. She was moving away from him. And the realization made him panic.

No. He felt his mind shout. That wasn't enough. It's not enough.

Surging forward, just after their lips had completely separated, he found them slamming against hers once more. This time because of him. And when she gasped into his mouth he just couldn't help himself. Arms gripping her firmly, he turned to the side forcing her into the wall just beside the shelf she had him pressed against. His fingers had never left her hair and instead his fingers buried deeper into the long strands. If the grip was painful, Ran didn't say. If anything, it sounded like she liked it with the way she released a moan into his mouth.

Shinichi had her pressed into the wall, the hand that wasn't angling her face closer to his, gripping the bare skin of her thigh. In the moment, he didn't care to process or wonder just how his hand got through the slit of her dress. All he wanted to do was just get closer and closer and as close as he could get, he concluded as he forced her leg to stay raised against his hip. When it got to the point they needed a second to just breathe, he had his lips slanting across the smooth skin of her neck. From this position he could feel her panting heavily against his ear. He could feel her desperately trying to draw in air to her lungs. He also felt when she stiffened.

When he had practically picked her up, forcing her into the wall, Ran's hands had both slid to the front of his shirt. When she gripped the lapels of his suit coat she had used force to tug his mouth closer to her neck. Suddenly however, he felt that grip slacken.

"I t-think. . . I think they're gone now. . "

That was like a wake up call.

His own common sense kicking in, he remembered where they were. What they were doing. Who was chasing them. Gently, he released his hold of her thigh and set her to rest on her own feet. Taking a glance at her he noticed she was redder than he was.

"I-I'm sorry. I knew they would find us either way so I-I . . improvised. . . "

Improvised?

Improvised.

Still sort of stuck in some dazed haze, it took him longer than it should to understand what exactly she meant.

Improvised, he repeated again in his thoughts.

That was what she kissed him for? Shinichi could remember discreetly at some point the door opening and then slamming shut shortly after. At the time he hadn't really cared that much to question it. He had been way too focused and interested in something else.

Something else that she 'improvised'.

The bitter thought left the same taste is his mouth.

Frowning, and face turning a darker shade, he took a step back.

"Right . . . " he agreed swallowing hard.

Of course they couldn't stay there any longer than they already had. There was always the possibility that the police would realize their mistake and return. If they were smart, they shouldn't be here for if or when that happens. There was no time to just stand there awkwardly. Though that was what he proceeded to do.

The reminder she gave for why they had hid in this room in the first place, did nothing for him. He should've been like her; scrambling to fix their appearance to look somewhat normal. But he couldn't be bothered. Shinichi watched as she hurriedly straightened her dress and finally, began the process of cleaning himself up. His motions were slow and sluggish however compared to her quick and hastened ones. It was only after a few moments of him pulling his tie forward that he realized his shirt was untucked.

"Does my hair look okay?"

All at once he was distracted. Again. Pausing with his shirt, and glancing back at her. Did her hair look okay?

"Yes."

Belatedly he realized what she actually meant. Was her hair fixed? Did she look normal? And still looking at the hair that he knew she had styled meticulously beforehand, it was tangled and frizzed. The long strands were very obviously out of place.

He startled a little when suddenly Ran was just before him, brushing her fingers through his hair. He was taller than her so she was on her toes, stretching to reach his height. He acknowledged that but seemed to struggle to realize maybe he should lean down to make it easier for her. The thought didn't occur to him. Not at first anyway. Once the thought hit that maybe she was trying to kiss him again, he found himself bending down. Her face was close to his again and he caught the scent of whatever it was she was wearing.

The sudden movement clearly caught her off guard and his eyes that had apparently been focused on her mouth watched as she didn't pull away, but instead rested flat on her feet again. Her hands were still in his hear however and he had to take a moment to wonder if she was going to use that to grab him again.

"Shinichi! What are you doing?" she practically hissed the question; her movements still hurried. "You look like a mess. Hurry up!"

And with a blushing face he realized that no, she wasn't trying to kiss him again. She was trying to fix his hair because it looked ridiculous. And he was just standing there, taking his time. Like an idiot.

Hearing noises in the distance however, they had run out of time. Immediately whatever stupor he had been in, broke and not willing to use anymore time, they bolted.

Shinichi was sure they looked like quite the pair. There was no way people would look at them and think they hadn't done something. He guessed that meant the plan worked but it didn't make it any less humiliating having to push through snickering guests that 'just knew what they'd been up to'.

They hadn't been up to anything however. Just 'improvising'.

And all he had said in response was, 'right'.

Shinichi hated how that one word was all he said. It gave the impression that they were on the same page. And if that was all that kiss was to her, then clearly they weren't. In the moment he hadn't the brain to make the connection between her actions and the situation they had been stuck in.

He wasn't surprised he didn't get her intentions to begin with. Unlike her, it never crossed his mind to use that as a . . disguise? And the fact that they didn't think exactly alike is what saved them.

But he was still mad.

It was laughable and dramatic and infuriating. Because he couldn't do or say anything in response and he knew it. How could he be angry? How could he complain if her plan actually worked? Yeah, sure his pride was hurt and he was a little embarrassed when he realized they were not on the same page. But he could admit, hurt feelings were easier to deal with than jail time.

It didn't mean he couldn't feel the sting still.

Shinichi knew why it hurt so much. He knew the real reason. Because for once he actually believed that Ran saw him as he saw her. Not just best friends or partners in crime but maybe something . . . more.

They had met years prior in a shared class on psychology. And he didn't want to say it was love at first sight but- it was definitely a lasting first impression.

He knew from early on that he held interest there. An interest that was built upon by the constant joint study sessions and realization that they also held numerous moral similarities. They were just pursuing them in different ways. She wanted to be a lawyer and he wanted to be a detective. Quite often he'd make the joke that they'd be an unstoppable pair in law enforcement; jokes that deep down held a hint of seriousness that, at the time, he hoped she didn't notice.

The truth was much harder to swallow. It had come like a bucket of ice, cold water dumped over his head. It felt like a slap to his face. A stone, hard slap of reality. His subtly backfired or rather- his lack of action did. Because again, how could he be mad when he never made his desires known?

He was a real coward. He never could bring himself to confess no matter how often the thought occurred to him. The excuse being- Ran had never gave any indication that she felt the same. Shinichi didn't want to ruin the strong bond they already had; their friendship that they had built on for years. It just wasn't worth the risk when he couldn't be confident in her answer nor her reaction.

But then she kissed him. His whole mind had shut down. And when they separated, possibilities flooded him. He could confess or was a confession really necessary at this point? Ran liked him. Ran wanted him.

That's what he first thought. So he responded. He had kissed her back. And if that already wasn't an obvious display of his feelings, he had acted like a totally catatonic fool directly afterwards.

Once they knew they were in the clear, Ran had become oddly silent. And distanced. She wouldn't meet his gaze and her cheeks were still a suspicious amount of pink. She seemed extremely fidgety to be beside him and the moment they said their goodbyes for the night, she had bolted.

Shinichi didn't know what he had been expecting exactly. An apology? Maybe even a confrontation over his obvious infatuation with her? But she had said nothing. And she had fled like the police were still chasing them.

Maybe what made it worse was that he couldn't be sure if it was because she had kissed him or, that she realized how he saw her and she panicked. Neither meant well for him. Both gave the impression that kissing him made her uncomfortable.

Shinichi wanted to punch something.

And his shirt still needed to be tucked in.

He got more than halfway of doing that before he remembered he was already home and began asking himself why exactly he was fixing it now. He had no need to do it now and grumbling irritatedly to himself, he instead began taking it off.

They didn't take on another job for almost an entire month after that. Waiting in between gigs wasn't unusual but not planning the next however, was. Normally by this point, he'd already be casing their next event. By this time he would've already consulted Ran.

He had done neither.

Instead, he went to school as normal and also continued helping Inspector Meguire when prompted. Nothing appeared different except the absence of their little side cases.

And that Ran was avoiding him.

It wouldn't of been as bad if it wasn't for their friends noticing that something was off. It also didn't help that even the media was pointing out the unusually long hiatus for the Night Baron.

"So about this . . . thing . . that's not really a thing with Mouri-san. . . Do you wanna talk about it?"

And there was his other issue. Shinichi had long given up trying to explain to Nakamichi that absolutely nothing romantic was going on between him and Ran. Now, after their earlier predicament, it became even more difficult to deny. His friend was convinced that the two were simply trying to keep it under wraps. That for some reason they didn't want anybody to know they were seeing each other. Nakamichi had already switched to asking why exactly Mouri-san wanted to hide things because he was confident the two were already together and that there was no way Shinichi would be the one wanting to hide it.

Grudgingly, Shinichi wasn't sure if he should be insulted by that last comment. Deeming that Nakamichi was correct and there was absolutely no way he'd want to hide the fact they were dating, Shinichi decided to keep his mouth shut. If they were dating, he wouldn't want to hide it. If they were dating, he'd walk home with her instead of his dork of a friend. If they were dating, he wouldn't have to explain why she suddenly decided to drink from his drink at a group study session. If they were dating, it would've been his idea to kiss the life out of her while running from the police. If they were dating-

Hand flying to his head, he could feel the strands of his hair getting scrunched between his fingers. And just as quickly as the tangent had started in his head, it stopped. As if the only thing keeping it all together was his hand against his head.

What was he thinking? He mentally hissed at himself as his teeth clenched. Entertaining Nakamichi's story. He was spiraling in his own thoughts and elaborating an idea that had not, and by the looks of it, would not be happening. Ran and him hadn't even spoken properly to each other since the last job. If they did, it was curt, in passing, or in the presence of someone else. Meaning it was a guarantee they could not discuss anything that had happened- her actions nor his seemingly obvious to him confession. Which all he could do was assume that was her intention.

He wanted to pull his hair from his scalp, it was so frustrating. Was he supposed to take this as a rejection? Was he not worth the time to say she wasn't interested directly to his face? Or did she think he would not accept her refusal? Did she think that low of him? He wouldn't lie- he liked her a lot. The rejection would hurt but they could at least be friends still. She didn't need to run from him as if he had the plague. Shinichi swore he could see the panic in her face anytime she happened to stumble upon him unexpectedly.

The space that stretched between them seemed to be widening. And worried the gap would become much too big to mend, Shinichi did the only thing he could do.

He found them another job.

At first, his intentions had been different. He had wanted to use this as a way to get her to talk to him; to address what exactly happened between them almost a month ago. If it was on a job, that was a guarantee they would have a moment alone. But at the realization of how that would probably make Ran feel- he paused. He would be cornering her. And that realization made him wince internally.

Shinichi didn't want Ran to feel trapped. He didn't want her to feel like she couldn't talk to him anymore just because she didn't want him the same way. They could be friends still. He wanted that more than anything. The rest, he could learn to deal with. He was well aware more than anybody about how kind Ran was. Her silence was most likely her way of sparing his feelings and easing her guilt about not returning his affections. She didn't need to feel guilt though. She wasn't obligated to feel any certain type of way. Ran didn't owe him anything regardless of how much he wanted it.

If he had considered it, he knew Ran must've come to the same conclusion- that he was trying to force her to talk. It would likely explain why she took her time responding to his invitation of working again. Her response had come in the middle of the night when he must've been dead asleep. Shinichi had only noticed the text message after turning his alarm off that morning.

Shinichi hated to think it, but Ran's presence- in a roundabout way- likely did more harm than good for his well being. He had already gotten a little risker the more jobs he took on. He acted rash and with no regard for his own safety after a certain point. Once Ran's presence in the form of an accomplice was assured, the possibilities became endless. And so did the risk. If Ran hadn't been there backing him, he surely would've been done for numerous times. He knew that. But that was also why he even attempted those risks.

Having their first real interaction since their last job being another mission, was a mistake. Not addressing what had happened between them before starting this, was a mistake. He acknowledged that when Ran still wouldn't even look at him directly. She definitely made sure to keep her distance as well.

Shinichi had already decided before meeting up that he would not be mentioning 'that job'. It wouldn't be right and it wouldn't be fair of him to try that. Clearly however, Ran hadn't grasped that yet. Any moment he would be about to start talking, she would tense. As if preparing herself for the inevitable.

That meant she knew this could've been a perfect moment for him to question her. She knew that, yet she came anyway. Not even the possible awkward conversation of unrequited feelings would she leave him to fend for himself. She had started joining him on these jobs to defend him in the first place. Whether she didn't want him the same or not, it was still nice to know that at least that wouldn't change.

He just wished that she would relax. There was no way for him to tell her he wouldn't talk about it without actually bringing it up. By the time she might've understood that, they had already put their 'plan' into motion. If it could even be called that. How could they plan when neither could even look the other in the face let alone have a conversation?

This whole night was a bad idea. Shinichi had the feeling throughout the night and as things progressed, it only got worse. Why would he even think this was a good idea? Any person with half a brain would've just dodged the bullet and asked to have the conversation. He had already come to terms in his head that clearly she didn't want him that way. He knew that. Her avoidance spoke louder than anything she could ever tell him. Yet he also knew, hearing it aloud and in the open provided a confirmation her silence didn't give.

Shinichi needed to hear it; aloud. Regardless if deep down he already knew. He needed it. If anything for his piece of mind and for closure. He had pined for her for a long time. Moving on would not be easy. It would take time. But the process wouldn't begin until she gave her refusal outright.

Having all of this sit on him, literally weighing down on his mind, just before a job was dumb. Her presence was only making it more difficult as was her refusal to even properly acknowledge him. He wasn't doing much better, he'd admit. But he had tried to bridge that gap and Ran wasn't reaching from her end.

How Ran felt was everything to him. Shinichi didn't want his presence to be uncomfortable for her. He was doing everything- even down to the plan- to show it was okay. She didn't have to feel the same way. It was fine. He would be fine.

Where as normally they would walk in as a couple when it came to balls and galas, he decided they could work this one a little more separately. Shinichi was doing everything he could possibly think of, to show her that he didn't want to make her uncomfortable. And after the revelation a month ago, pretending to be his wife would surely do that.

Ran only got more tense. And that only made him more nervous. Neither a good sign when communication and teamwork was the most important aspect to be able to successfully carry out these jobs. That should've been the biggest indicator that once again, this was a bad idea.

He messed up. He knew that. Even in the moment when he forcibly shoved that guy away from her, he knew he was the one at fault. There was no reason for his actions. No logical one anyway. The only thing that powered him in the moment was jealousy. It fueled and burned through him stronger than anything he could remember. Nothing had ever cut off his thought process so quickly. Not even the time Ran kissed him.

But this was not what he'd been expecting when Ran said she would 'make an opening for him'. The sensation that sunk deep into the pit of his stomach was similar to being sick. That was the feeling he got when watching Ran disappear into a hallway with the 'owner' of this gem.

He didn't trust it. Not the look in the guy's eye nor the impatient tug he seemed to give Ran. Shinichi didn't trust any of it. And no, it had nothing to do with his jealousy. It was for Ran's safety that he followed them; that instead of going the clear way his partner indicated, that he trailed behind the two out of sight.

Nothing to do with his personal emotions at all.

Peeking around the corner to find his partner pushed against a door about to be kissed however was, again, nothing he had been expecting. Yet the reaction was instantaneous.

This anger he felt was different. This was a different kind of rage that reared its head forward. A nasty emotion he had never experienced so strongly. With a mixture of fury, possessiveness, and just about anything in-between, before his brain could even catch up and actually think- he was already across the hall and shoving the man roughly.

Ran seemed as surprised as the guy. Her eyes had bulged when suddenly the arms that had been bracing her weight disappeared. She stumbled in her satin dress but Shinichi was too furious to help her straighten. His attention was too focused on the creep that was still on the floor, mostly in shock. Shinichi had pushed him hard. Probably too hard if it was able to knock the guy off his feet but in the moment, he could care less. There was nothing that could be said to him then that would make him believe this guy didn't deserve it. He had been touching Ran. That was enough for him.

After finally realizing what just happened, the guy's eyes shot up to look at him angrily. Shinichi wasn't sure exactly what made the guy do it. He honestly thought he just initiated a fist brawl. But likely taking one look at the simple fury on his face, the guy stood up while wiping the blood off his bottom lip; the anger gone from his eyes and instead a smirk that was anything but happy. With a promise to get security for the both of them, the guy exited the hall from where they had come.

They couldn't let him go; not if they wanted their plan to succeed. Both of them had to know that. But neither of them did a thing till he was long out of sight.

It was Ran that reacted first. It was his turn to be shoved as she pushed her hands against his chest angrily.

"What are you doing?" She questioned him furiously. And from that alone he realized the shove was more out of panicked frustration than any real anger.

Shinichi was fine with that. He was sure he had enough anger for the both of them.

"No- what are you doing?" His voice was incredulous just like his face.

"I thought my job. You said to get close to him. You told me to make sure he was distracted."

"I didn't mean like that."

Ran sighed as if she were exhausted. "Well what did you mean, Shinichi?"

"I-I don't know- just anything except making out with him," he snapped and in his frustration he couldn't help but stutter.

"Why are you getting so upset?"

It was clear to him then before she even spoke that Ran understood he was mad. He knew that when her eyes softened towards him. But from her question, she clearly couldn't understand why he was mad. And if possible that was making him angrier. Because from his last sentence alone, it should be obvious why he was upset. If they took away everything that had happened between them a month ago, with his words alone that he spoke tonight, her answer was still right in front of her. He wasn't understanding why she just wasn't getting it.

"Y-you can't do something like that!"

"And why can't I? I swear you don't make any sense to me, Shinichi. I was only doing what I thought you wanted."

She was only trying to make his job easier for him. And if he weren't so heated he'd recognize that what she had been trying to do really would've made the job easier. That disgusting lowlife would've been so distracted. But to achieve that in that way was unacceptable to him.

"Why would I want you to kiss him?"

"Why would you not?" she countered.

His eyes blazed. "Are you actually serious?" he asked incredulously.

"You're mad." The way she stated it- it wasn't a question. It was a fact. And he was mad. He was so furious it was almost insane how personally he had taken this. Because this wasn't acting for him. It had never been. He never had to pretend to feel more for her. This was something he wanted. Not just on jobs but all the time. Him and Ran together. Him and Ran being a couple.

And he knew he had no right to be so upset. She never gave any indication that this would happen outside of their side jobs. He was the one that was turning it into something it wasn't meant to be- a reality. But she could at least do him the courtesy of not acting clueless. He had clearly kissed her that night without any other intention except that he simply wanted to. She knew that. She wouldn't of avoided him in their regular daily lives if that weren't the case.

He needed to step back. It was too soon to come back to this when clearly he wasn't over it. There wouldn't be another job until he could get over his feelings for her. And if that never happened, so be it. He was done with this conversation.

Shaking his head, Shinichi went to walk away. "Forget it."

Ran being quicker than him however, shot forward and gripped his arm. "How am I supposed to 'forget it'? You're obviously angry. Just tell me why." And for the first time in this conversation, he saw that she was actually beginning to get mad.

He had already decided what he would do though and instead he just shook his head again. "If you don't get it on your own, then it doesn't matter," he responded calmly.

Ran obviously rejected that idea.

"It matters to me! I played my part in your plan. I was going to do something I didn't even want to do-"

He wanted to argue that he never forced her to join him as the Night Baron. But it didn't matter now because this would be the last time.

"-so you could grab a stupid rock-"

That rock could sell for over 500,000 yen, he wanted to say but instead he remained stoic.

"-and you just storm in here like a jealous boyfriend-"

He was jealous. But he wasn't going to engage in this any further.

"-which we're not together-"

They're not. He knew that. He would work on it.

"-which you made that perfectly clear in your plan-"

He knew they weren't together. That's why he switched up their usual plan-

...

"What?!"

Shinichi was actually stunned into silence. There wasn't a lot that could do that for him either. But to bring up the plan that he made specifically to make her comfortable and complain about it, had him even more aggravated. She seemed like she wanted to continue but he wasn't about to allow that to slide.

"What is that supposed to mean?" he finally cut her off, not even paying attention to what she was currently saying. His earlier idea to just let this whole thing go, vanished as quickly as it had come.

Probably thinking she said too much, her tone got quiet and her face went pink.

Regardless of her obvious embarrassment however, she didn't try to take back what she said. "There's other ways to say you're not interested besides pushing me to the side for some side act. You could've told me how you felt. I wouldn't of left you to do this alone," she said with that hint of frustration still there.

But Shinichi was still stuck. Because now nothing was making sense to him. After all this time and he thought he finally figured out why Ran was avoiding him before, what she was saying now completely contradicted all of that.

"What the hell are you talking about?" he flat out asked.

A frown marred her features. "You know what we usually do as these kinds of parties. You know what . . acts work better here. And you changed that on purpose," she accused.

"You avoided me!" was the only thing he could bring himself to say.

"Only because I didn't know what to do!" she raised her voice with a completely flustered face now.

"How about talking to me-"

"Woah, woah, woah!" Immediately their shouting was cut off; both of them jerking in shock before going on the defensive. They were still on a job after all. But once they saw just who it was that had the audacity to interrupt their argument, they both froze with widened eyes and slackened jaws.

Kaito Kid didn't seem to care if he was intruding or not. For some reason, he looked frustrated as he stormed out behind a pillar.

"Are you two actually kidding me?" And the other pair watched as he came closer without a care.

"Some of us are actually trying to work. I've literally been sitting alone in that room waiting and neither of you came to do anything. I could've bailed an hour ago while you guys were griping during a heist. Not to mention the guy I had to knock unconscious on my way over here," he jabbed a thumb behind him and lo and behold the guy he had shoved to the ground was currently leaning unconscious against the far wall. But the Phantom Thief didn't seem to be through.

"Which- how has this not been resolved yet?"

Shinichi and Ran both flushed scarlet and taking that as his answer, Kid threw his hands up in frustration.

"I swear there has been absolutely no progression between the two of you since the first time I saw you. Do you have any idea how obnoxious that is for a bystander?"

"She avoided you because she kissed you and actually liked it," he pointed a finger at Ran who flushed brighter at his words before turning it to Shinichi next who went pale, "and he changed the plan because he thought you avoiding him meant you didn't like it!"

"Do you see how easy that was? Is there anything that you two do not understand?"

At their mutual silence, Kaitou Kid shook his head aggravatedly before spinning around, his cape billowing out behind him. "And you guys are my rivals?" he grumbled bitterly under his breath. "You guys better have this sorted out before next time."

Even long after Kid left, the two remained standing there completely frozen. They both were staring at where the thief had made his exit but neither seemed to want to break the silence first. Neither wanted to be the first to confirm or deny the accusations thrown at them.

Instead, realizing that they were still very much in the open with an unconscious body and that this job was definitely ruined, Shinichi turned a glance towards Ran. Unsurprisingly she was avoiding looking at him again and her face was still insanely red. But his was too and if it were for the same reason. . . then they had a lot to discuss.

"Do-" he started before cutting himself off. He wasn't sure if now was the right time when they were standing in the hall of one of their heists after having a shouting match. But when her eyes flit up to his quickly at the sound of his voice and saw they looked hopeful, he didn't care.

"Do you want to get something to eat. . . with me?" And then he cleared his throat realizing how informal that sounded and that he better be clear because obviously she didn't go off hints.

"Would like you to go out to dinner with me?"

Her face still impossibly red, she bit her lip before nodding slowly. "I'd like that."

oOo

Months later, Shinichi found himself at another gala. It was the usual type of party he hated attending but he'd have to admit as his eyes followed one figure across the room, this one wasn't too bad.

Until it got closer and certain features became clearer and he realized this was actually the worst one yet.

"Ah, Shin-chan, did you see they have a chocolate fountain?" she beamed excitedly before reaching for him.

Immediately he side stepped the arm that went to link with his own making 'Ran' pout at him. Shinichi didn't care until he noticed the confused stare from across him. He had stated this was his fiancé after all and froze when he caught their puzzled looks.

This time, when she went to link her arm with his, grudgingly, he allowed it. No matter if he was cringing so badly inside, his teeth gnashing together irately. "Yes. I saw," he bit out. And barely getting the whole statement out, his champagne flute he held was snatched from his other hand that wasn't currently wrapped around 'Ran'.

Shinichi had to grit his teeth as he watched her swallow practically the whole thing in one gulp. With a cheeky grin he was sure was meant to seem mockingly innocent considering the actual Ran had done this numerous times before, she held the glass out to him with the one measly sip that was left in it as an offering.

"Keep it," he bit out still trying to keep his cool. There were people still watching them after all. And shrugging she downed the rest of it.

Probably noticing the peculiar tension between the two, it was quite easy to dismiss themselves. And as soon as they were somewhere deemed a little private, Shinichi turned angrily.

"Where is she?"

And mocking him further, violet eyes widened comically as brows scrunched in faux confusion. "Where is who?"

The voice was exact. Purely feminine and a complete copy.

But it wasn't real. It was fake and he could tell.

Or rather he noticed the obvious struggle for Kid to keep his knees bent. It was quite embarrassing and even more infuriating to notice that his girlfriend whom he had been trying to ogle had in fact not actually been his girlfriend. But in actuality a hack of a magician doing his best to maintain the height and appearance of a young woman.

More mortified that he believed for a moment this was his girlfriend enough to ogle her, Shinichi had no patience. Fully irritated now, he gripped Kid's arm furiously while snapping in a harsh whisper, "Where is Ran?" The grip only loosened when he realized they were still technically in the open and he forced a small grin at anybody that looked their way.

"Calm down," the still female voice tried to wave him off. "We had a small issue so we had to do a little switch."

Doing his best to ignore that this wasn't actually Ran though it was her voice, Shinichi prodded further. "What do you mean a 'small issue'? What happened?"

"Well something didn't exactly go according to plan and since we both agree your girlfriend has monster strength, I decided as a last resort we can rely on that," the imposter smiled happily.

He was so proud of himself.

Not really sure if he wants to know what that means, Shinichi began heading towards the hall where he knew Ran would be then. "And you just left her there alone."

"What?" Kid pouted. "You don't have confidence in me, Shinichi?" They were in the hall now and Kid was trailing behind him still in that irritating disguise. He had given up on trying to maintain a shortened height and was walking normally, but out of all the things Shinichi could pick apart about the disguise, it was something else that disturbed him more.

"Do not do that," he spun around angrily. It was one thing to call him 'Shin-chan'. Ran would never call him that except for that single time before. But to speak to him how she actually does- it was starting to freak him out.

Kid frowned for real this time. "Don't do what?"

"Stop sounding like her!" He snapped uncomfortably.

Seeming to finally understand, Kid shrugged before saying in his own voice, "Fine."

But that was just as bad. Hearing that voice with Ran's face.

"Never mind- that's worse," Shinichi sighed heavily and fingers went to pinch the bridge of his nose. "Just stop talking."

This was the first and only time they'd ever team up again. Shinichi couldn't believe they managed to talk him into it in the first place. They had been right. There was no point in the two thieves fighting over who stole the ring first when it was clear the goal was the same. Not like last time when the two men both stumbled into a treasure's room two weeks ago wanting to steal the same thing. And after they managed to almost both get caught last time due to them arguing, Ran had been the one to present this idea.

But Shinichi couldn't get over what the dunce had accused him of. 'Stealing his thunder'- as if they were competing to be the most wanted criminal in the fraud department. He wasn't trying to steal anything. As far as he was concerned, Kid could carry all media attention he wanted. Shinichi would never try to take that. But he couldn't help it if fans of theirs constantly argued over who the best thief actually was.

And yes, amazingly that was a thing.

Shinichi resented that though. He was no thief. And after watching him a little more closely, Shinichi realized that just maybe . . . Kid wasn't either.

Neither one wanted the treasure for themselves. Besides Kid's weird rule that he needed to 'look' at the gem before they decided anything. It was clear the Phantom Thief was looking for a treasure and once he found it, he wouldn't be giving it back. Shinichi wondered if that was likely the reasoning for what Kaito Kid was doing in the first place. He had never thought much of the guy. He had always just assumed that he was some mindless criminal that flaunted and attempted to disguise what he was- a criminal- behind obnoxious magic acts. Because that's all they were. Even if sometimes it took a bit to realize how the thief had done it, he always figured it out. There was always an explanation. And that's why Shinichi didn't understand nor did he care to learn just why Kid paraded around like a magician.

But now working with him, it annoyed him, but his curious mind made it easy for him to at least attempt to analyze his behavior.

Kid was doing this for a reason. A reason other than crime at least. He was positive Kid would never try to actually kill or harm a cop or bystander. He always took the treasure and bailed. And every single time, he would read the next day that the treasure had magically been 'returned' to the rightful owner.

Kaito Kid never held onto a single gem he stole. Not a single time.

It was difficult for him to admit, but Ran was right. The two were very similar. Even if they carried it out differently or if their way of doings things were the opposite of the others, their outcome was always the same. Shinichi wasn't foolish enough to believe they had the same goal; that they did this for the same reason. It was clear that Kid was looking for something and once he found it, he would not be returning it. But though he would never say it aloud, the Magician was not a bad person. He always wanted to believe there was no good enough reason to break the law. There was nothing that warranted another person committing a crime. But if that were actually true- then what were he and Ran doing? He wanted to believe they were doing the right thing. And so grudgingly, he accepted that about the Phantom Thief.

Things were very rarely black and white.

oOo

"Who was your nice date?"

The soft voice called over to him gently from up ahead on the path. Recognition immediately pulled his attention away from his feet he had been watching dejectedly; his hands stuffed inside his suit pockets. The words that filtered in however had him perking up.

Supressing a grin he shrugged. "Just some girl I met in college psychology."

Ran blushed slightly but smiled all the same. It wasn't till he reached her that she began walking beside him. "She seemed to be dressed a bit risqué though, don't you think?"

Shinichi peeked over at her as she stayed beside him. She wasn't looking back but he could only assume she was wondering how he liked her dress.

Which he refused to judge after having only seen Kaito Kid wearing it.

Referring back to her question, he snorted. "Probably because the wrong person was in it."

He would've much rather seen the real Ran wearing it.

Finally breaking composure- stopping whatever roundabout way she was trying to ask, she stopped walking. "But it was a perfect copy!" she protested pouting and Shinichi had to wonder what exactly she was after here. He had a feeling he'd be in trouble no matter the answer he gave her.

But perfect? Perfect clone, his ass.

"There are just some things that can't be copied," he supplied simply even though in his mind, he knew exactly what parts of Ran couldn't be imitated.

Ran was not content with his response. If anything, she almost became suspicious as he leaned forward with narrowed eyes. "Like what?"

Realizing he might've steered this conversation somewhere he definitely didn't want, Shinichi swallowed hard when she raised a brow.

"What did he not copy?" she asked outright.

If she wants an honest explanation . . .

Sighing, he looked away, turning his nose up. "Your chest does not sit that high. Not only does he not have any, but your breasts are large. He most likely had to make them rest higher to disguise that. And though your thighs do have quite a bit of muscle, they are much softer than what he presented- not to mention he was actually walking around with his knees bent slightly to accommodate the height difference."

Ran didn't respond right away. Her silence dragged on and eventually he became nervous. He definitely confessed too much. Even if she was his girlfriend, surely it would make her uncomfortable to realize he watched her that intently. And on every little detail as well. But Shinichi couldn't help but to be insulted that she said Kid was an exact copy. That would never be possible. Ran could not be replicated. Especially when Shinichi could pick out so many things that the magician had gotten wrong in his disguise. Of course the detective knew there was only so much one could do in a disguise. But still, Shinichi was too much of a perfectionist and Ran was perfect in his eyes.

Suddenly his arm was being gripped gently and Shinichi blinked oddly when Ran slowly wrapped her arms around his. At first he thought she would be mad. He had openly admitted to ogling her. And if she asked him to be more honest, he would have to say he'd been watching her long before they started dating.

"Thank you," she said softly, startling him by breaking the silence and catching him off guard with her response. The confusion must've clearly been on his face because she turned red again. Her smile didn't drop though.

"It's nice to know that you could tell it wasn't me. . . that all you see if me."

They had begun walking again and Shinichi couldn't help but think he definitely dodged a bullet. But he would've been lying if he said anything else. And though it made him anxious to know that all his thoughts and feelings were out and on the table, he was sick of hiding them. Ran deserved to know exactly how he thought about her. She deserved to know just how much he noticed her and for how long he wanted to be with her.

And if he was rewarded for honestly. . .

"I guess that means you'll have to wear that dress again so I can actually give you an opinion on it," he said nonchalantly even though his gaze continued to rest ahead of him. He hoped it came out like a suggestion because he really hadn't gotten to see her in it. Currently she was wearing jeans and coat after having to give up the dress for Kid's impromptu disguise.

"Can't. I'm pretty sure Kid went home in it," Ran innocently said completely missing why he wanted her to wear it again and bursting his bubble in the process.

Deflating, he changed his mind. "He really is a thief," he grumbled.

Ran raised a brow. "And then what are you, Night Baron?"

"Alright," he said sternly while narrowing his eyes and she began giggling.

Clenching her arms much more firmly around his arm, he felt her chest press against it even more making him gulp. "Don't worry. I have something else I can wear just for you," she whispered.

#dcmk #shinran #fanfic #fanfiction #shinran fanfic #dcmk fanfic #shinichi kudo #ran mouri #maybe a little phantom thief #kaito kid #;)#og #my wrtitng

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sunnyrosewritesstuff · 3 years

Text

Day 3 Birthday Plot Bunnies 2

If you want this to become my next WIP, be sure to shower it with lots of love!! 🥰 💖 All the story starters will be linked back to this masterpost.

Title: Soul Traitors

Summary: Betrayal among soulmates is unheard of in all the free races of Arda, yet that’s exactly what Durin, King of Khazad-dûm, endures. Heartsick and angry, he damns the Valar for their choice and earns their wrath in return. He and his former lover will be reincarnated until the wrong between them is righted. Thorin, Durin’s lastest reincarnation, believes nothing can break that curse and instead mounts a quest for the Arkenstone to free his people of theirs. Gandalf, the meddlesome wizard, offers a Burglar for their quest. A hobbit burglar who will help Thorin uncover more than just a gem.

Warnings: Character Death, Gore (I mean, it’s not heavily descripted gore, but it does mention the manner of the character’s death so just to be safe.)

Each of the races have their own views on soulmates and how you go about finding them. However, all seem to agree that to find a soulmate is a very special thing. To find the one person who you can trust with your whole heart and soul. That’s why to the dwarves, they called these people, Ones. None would ever consider betraying their Ones as that seemed a cruelness beyond even that of the orcs. Which is why King Durin stood in the high chamber of the court of Khazad-dûm staring down at the small figure below with such shock and fear, many feared a light breeze could topple their usually infallible king.

The curly haired creature in chains returned the king’s stare with heartbreaking indifference. Many of the court began to chant prayers to Mahal that this was not to be so. That the One of their dear king wouldn’t dare do that which he was accused. Durin’s flat and breathless voice finally spoke, silencing all in the hall.

“Madoc son of Maloch of the Holbyta Tribe Fallohide, you stand before the King of Khazad-dûm as the sole conspirator and thief of the Arkenstone. One of the great treasures of our kingdom. What plea do you make in your defense?”

With no hesitation, no change in emotion, the small being stated the same line Durin’s heard since his capture.

“I love you.”

The king leaned forward to bow his head as he gripped the stone podium tighter.

“Madoc, this is serious!” Durin’s most trusted advisor, Gelbim, spoke up. “You have taken a sacred relic from our halls, and not just any, but the one that has the power to bring ruin upon our city and our people! Your crime is punishable by death. For the love of Mahal and the great Valar, please, tell us where you’ve hidden the Arkenstone.”

Durin slowly brought his eyes up as the silence persisted to see a small break in Madoc’s mask. His jaw trembled and a single tear leaked from his soft hazel eyes that Durin had loved from the moment he met him.

“I...love...you.” He sobbed.

That was the moment Durin’s heart broke. Not shattered completely though. No, unfortunately that particular pain would come later that week when Madoc’s sentence was being carried out. But this...this was the first of a pain that would never desist.

“How can you when you hurt me so?” Durin asked softly, yet his words carried through the chamber as Madoc bowed his head in defeat. “You are given a traitor’s sentence. Death with no chance to appeal. Your name will not be spoken aloud again, your hair will be shorn and removed of any braids and beads, and your body will be burned rather than returned to the land and stone. In the Eyes of Mahal, so mote it be.”

Gelbim, his dear friend, told him he didn’t need to attend. None would think less of their king. Durin wished he had listened. He couldn’t bear to watch, but the sound of the axe going straight through his One’s neck would haunt him for the rest of his life. As it was, he stumbled to his chambers to fall and not rise from their marital bed for weeks after. When he resumed his reign, the toll of losing heart and soul was apparent to all.

Durin became hardened in the final years of his reign. He demanded every ounce of mithril in the mountain to be pulled up and sold it to his allies for too high a price. What he didn’t sell, he forged. Weapons, jewelry, a particular handsome mailshirt, and if it were all the same size as his beloved holbyta? Well, none had it in them to point it out to their fading king. As demanded of a traitor’s death, the name Madoc was stricken from all records and replaced with the Amrâb Hufrel or “the soul’s betrayal of all betrayals”. The rest of the Fallohide tribe which was camped near the Misty Mountains was forced to pack up and resume their nomadic lifestyle west or face war with the dwarves. The sorrows of Durin were not to stop there.

“The goblins of the Deep grow bolder.” Gelbim remarked as they watched the latest battalion return battered and worse for wear.

“Without the Arkenstone, they will not stop.” Durin growled.

“Durin, my friend, we’ve sent quest after quest after the gem. Wherever M-the Amrâb Hufrel has hidden it, we may not ever find it. It may be time to consider...alternatives.”

“What alternative is there aside from leaving my mountain and my mithril!” Durin spat.

Gelbim raised an eyebrow at his answer. “And is that worth more than the lives of your kin?”

Durin froze before spinning around quick as a flash. “Leave if that is your wish! This has been the home of MY line since the reign of Durin I and I WILL NOT GO!”

Go, Gelbim did taking a third of his kingdom with him including the young Prince Thrain and his mother. Crown Prince Nain, Durin’s only stone son, could not be moved to leave his father to his fate even as he saw the heartless path he wrought. For in their quest for more mithril, an ancient evil slumbering deep below the rock was awoken. The king led a frantic charge against the beast and was slain almost instantly. The war against Durin’s Bane lasted a year longer, but when the newly instated King Nain, was slain, the mountain and its riches were abandoned. In the lore of Durin’s folk, this was the first great curse of the Amrâb Hufrel’s theft.

Durin, who welcomed his death with open arms, awoke expecting to find the Halls of His Father. Instead, the nervous face of his treacherous One amongst a starry plane was the first sight he was graced with.

“Oh Durin, my heart…” The holbyta began taking a step forward.

“You!” The king snarled, moving away as quickly as he could.

The Amrâb Hufrel looked miserable as his face twisted in anguish. “Please let me explain…”

“NOW YOU WISH TO EXPLAIN!” Durin boomed. “You had your chance! You had every opportunity to tell of your nefarious schemes, and instead you mocked me. You mocked my kingdom, a kingdom you once called yours. Well look at it now! All because of you!”

The creature before him was truly wretched and small as he hunkered against every blow Durin dealt. And the dwarf was yet to be finished.

“Peace, my son.” Came a great voice from above that Durin instantly recognized as His Father even having never heard it before. “You have made your point. Now let your Sanâzyung (Perfect/True Love) say his piece.”

“NO!” Durin roared against the very heavens themselves. “I don’t want to have anything to do with this...this...Amrâb Hufrel!”

Thunder rumbled, shaking the entire platform they stood upon. And while the holbyta trembled in the face of such power, Durin’s anger was too great to be cowed.

“You would reject this gift we offer, son of Aulë?” A female voice demanded, icy and iron.

“What gift?” Durin sneered. “Unless you offer me the chance to sever his head myself this time, I see no gift here.”

The other creature of blood released a gasp that was more like a sob, but Durin had no more patience for the likes of him. In fact, he had nothing left to give to him. Something that became apparent to the Valar watching.

“You have become cruel.” Another, softer female voice soothed. “You know only the truths you have seen with your own eyes.”

“And it is enough for me to condemn that thing and the Great Valar that thought to join my soul with it! Damn him and DAMN ALL OF YOU!”

If Durin expected the same booming show of power he received previously, he was sorely disappointed. Instead, it just all seemed to fade away. The stars, the platform, and the holbyta. His sorrowful face full of tears was the last thing Durin saw before he was swallowed by the darkness. The darkness allowed no sound, not even from Durin’s own voice, and no escape. He was unsure how long he wavered in that place: hours, weeks, years? He was utterly and completely alone until finally the voice of His Father broke through.

“You have shamed me, my uzfakuh (great joy). You have shamed me, you have shamed yourself, and you have shamed your Sanâzyung.”

Durin knew he could not speak back, but he still fumed at the Great Smith’s words.

“We have thought long and hard on how you can atone for the atrocities you’ve committed today.”

And what of the Amrâb Hufrel’s atrocities?

“Your path will not be an easy one, especially if you hold tight to the stubborn slights of your mortal heart. For a soul is worth so much more. You and your Sanâzyung shall be reborn over and over as many times as needed until you can right the wrongs between you and hear the truth of his soul.”

Durin felt a burning on his breast and looked down to behold a glowing oak tree being inked in chains.

“You shall carry this mark in every life of yours henceforth, and it shall know the mark of Madoc in return. Only free of the chains that bind your soul, will you be welcome in my Halls.”

The legend of Durin’s curse and the theft of the Amrâb Hufrel passed down through the centuries until it had inscribed all dwarven mothers with fear. For any child to bear the mark of Durin was to lead a loveless and empty life. Likewise, any “hobbits” as they preferred that met with the dwarves were met with open hostility. Especially if they bore their own mark, though none knew for certain if it was Madoc’s or not. Still, the hobbits learned fast and stories of their own circulated that any child bearing an acorn on their palm would be hunted and killed by the dwarves. So as the stories grew wilder and edged with desperation, Durin and Madoc were reborn again and again just as Aulë promised, but were no closer to breaking the curse that bound them so.

It was many centuries later when a young prince from Durin’s own line was born to the immediate wailing and disappointment of every dwarf in attendance. Not even a few seconds old, Thorin, son of Thrain, Prince of Erebor bore the heavy burdens of his ancestor. It steeled his heart as he grew into adolescence and forced him to throw his all into his duties as prince. He would love Erebor for none would ever love him. And when Erebor was attacked by the dragon, it was Thorin’s foresight and friendship with the men of Dale that was able to send Smaug away. Thorin grew from prince into a king his people could be proud of, and he never wavered from his vow to his kingdom. Never knowing that almost a century and a half later, a hobbit was born with the death sentence of his people on his palm and a destiny he would not be able to escape.

#birthdayplotbunnies #bagginshield #thilbo #starterdrabbles #because i'm clearly in a mood for overly angsty fics #twist on the soulmark trope

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fandom-imagines-stories · 4 years

Text

The Last Toll

Dean Winchester x Reader

Words: 3865

Part One; Part Two

Summary: Trying to protect the boys from having to witness your death, you leave the bunker to die alone. Dean and Sam desperately try to find you before time runs out.

Notes: Here it is. The final part in this trilogy of twists and lots of angst. I am super proud of how this series turned out and I hope you guys enjoyed the ride. As always, let me know what you think! (But hey, keep an eye out in the future for possible continuations)

Warnings: Death, gore, sacrifice, lots of angst and tears

Special shout out to my amazing beta reader Sarah, @suckmysupernatural . I love her so much and honestly, she’s helped me so much in getting these imagines out for you and she has some absolutely killer writing of her own!

Want more Supernatural? Find it HERE

Monday 6:00 A.M.

You had exactly 18 hours left on Earth. 18 hours until a big invisible dog carries you in its mouth down to the eternal Big House. After arguing with Dean last night, it was finally hitting you. You were going to hell. An endless circle of torment that you had no escape from. Beside you, Dean turned over, still fast asleep. You smiled to yourself. You were going for him.

Carefully lifting the blanket, you silently got out of the bed. You grabbed some clothes and stuffed them into your bag. It would be easier to change in the car. You couldn’t risk waking anyone up.

You snuck out into the kitchen, quickly ducking behind the wall when you saw a trench coat laid over one of the chairs, it’s owner flipping through a book. Why can’t angels take naps? You tiptoed towards the entrance, making as little noise as possible.

“You won’t get far.” Cas scolded, not even looking up from his cookbook. You sighed heavily. Busted.

“I can’t stay.” You stepped into the kitchen, putting your bag on the table. “I’ve put them through enough. I have to do this alone.”

“You know what Dean would say?” Cas inquired. You hated when he tried to guilt trip you. “He would say,” the angel lowered his voice to impersonate your boyfriend, “‘You’re one of us. And none of us goes down alone.’ Don’t you want to be with the people who love you? With the man you love so much you sold your soul?” It was odd to hear him speak so emotionally. You could feel tears welling, but you forced them back. If you cried one more time, you’d scream.

“I got to see him one last time. I got to see those eyes bright with life again. I got to kiss him again.” He looked ready to rebuttal so you stopped him. “This isn’t the first time this has happened, Cas. I can’t make Sam watch that again. And Dean…” You sighed, “The only thing that would come from them being there when the bitch comes is more trauma for them to carry around.” You put a hand on his shoulder, urging him to understand. “Let their last memory of me be a good one.” Cas was silent for a moment.

“Alright.” You exhaled a breath of relief. You knew he would understand. Cas stood and grabbed his trench coat. “But I’m driving.” Your relief was replaced with frustration.

“Cas, no-”

“Spare the Winchesters if that’s really what you want. There may not be a way out of this, but you will not go alone.” He was using his angel voice and there was no fighting him on this one. With a huff, you conceded.

“Fine, but I am picking the music.”

9:34 A.M.

You’d kept your phone on silent, ignoring all of the calls you had anticipated. If you heard his voice, you would make Cas turn the car around. You did, however, try and read the avalanche of text messages you were receiving from both brothers.

Don’t do this.

You don’t have to face this on your own.

Please baby, answer the phone.

One of Sam’s messages in particular sent a pang of guilt through your heart.

Dean’s going nuts over here. We both are. Please just come home. If only to say goodbye.

“Regretting your decision?” Cas wondered gruffly. You shot him a look and turned on the radio. Cas changed the channel quickly as ‘Highway to Hell’ played, muttering that it was inappropriate given the circumstances. Instead, he found a station playing Night Ranger’s ‘Sister Christian’. You felt that ache in your chest come back.

“Now what?” Cas read your expression.

“Nothing, it’s just this song.” You had to laugh at how sentimental you were being. “Dean played it all the time when we first became a couple. He liked to joke that he was the ‘Mr. Right’ I’d been so desperately looking for.” The memory made you smile and you imagined being in the impala with Dean singing from the driver’s side.

“Motoring!” He would belt. “What’s your price for flight? You’ve got him in your sight. And driving through the night.” You would both sing the guitar part and laugh.

“Y/N… Y/N.” Cas broke you out of the memory, seeing the sadness in your eyes. You hadn’t even realized that he had stopped the car. “I figured you would want some coffee.” You looked out the window and saw the gas station he had parked in front of.

“You’re a saint, Cas,” You exclaimed, the grumbling in your stomach finally getting your attention. The angle looked very confused.

“Y/N, I can’t be a saint. I’m an angel.”

“It’s just an expression.” You laughed, opening the car door. “I’ll be back in a sec.”

Cas knew that if you were anything like your boyfriend, you’d pursue the aisle for some pre-packaged junk food for a while before checking out. Which gave him about ten minutes to return a very angry call.

“Where are you? Is she with you? What the hell Cas?” Dean yelled into the receiver. Sam sat at the table, still trying to find you, but you must have turned the tracker on your phone off.

“She’s okay, Dean.”

“Bring her back. Now.”

“I can’t. She’ll run if she thinks I’m taking her to you.” Cas explained, keeping an eye on you as you moved through the candies. “We’re stopped at a gas station in Topeka.”

“Where are you headed?”

“She won’t say.” Cas sighed. “She just tells me what turns to make and what roads to follow. Although, she did mention something about ‘seeing the old place again’, whatever that means.” Cas watched you pay for your items and head for the exit. “I’ve got to go.”

“Cas, wait!” Dean said, but the line was already dead. “Damn it!” He tossed the phone across the table. Sam caught it before it could slide off.

“He wouldn’t tell you?”

“He doesn’t know!” The older Winchester exclaimed in frustration. “He said Y/N is just telling him as they go. The only clue she’s given him is ‘seeing the old place again.’”

“Did he say where they were stopped at least?”

“Some gas station in Topeka, so they could be heading anywhere.” Dean paced back and forth. He should have known you would pull something like this. You thought you were protecting him by facing this alone. Hell, you’d been doing it since you were a kid. Dean stopped suddenly.

“What is it?” Sam asked and his brother grabbed the keys to his car.

“I know where she’s going.”

2:14 P.M.

You hadn’t seen the house in about twenty years. Then, it was a family home- bikes left on the lawn, your mother’s tulips overtaking the garden, your terrible chalk drawings covering the driveway. Now, the wood was rotting and a tall chain link fence surrounded the premises.

“What are we doing here?” Cas wondered, turning off the truck as you hopped out. The bottle of anger liquid practically glowed in the afternoon sun. You took a swig.

“This, my friend, is where I grew up.” You surveyed the house and nodded. “And it’s where I want to die.” You tucked the bottle in your bag and climbed the fence, landing on the other side with a dramatic flare. Cas let out an exasperated sigh.

“What happened here?” He asked, reading all of the ‘Condemned Building’, ‘Do Not Enter’ signs. He followed you over the fence, clumsily tumbling onto the other side.

“When I was fifteen, my brother came home from college for the weekend. Only, it wasn’t my brother.” The old wounds didn’t hurt as much anymore, but being here again certainly made them sting a little. “It was a shifter. Now, my parents were hunters before they had us, so they figured out something was wrong…just not fast enough.” It all felt so far away now. “After he killed them, he came after me. Somehow, I got the upper hand and sent a silver kitchen knife through his heart. That’s how I started hunting.” Cas put a hand on your shoulder.

“I’m sorry.” You just shrugged sadly.

“It was a long time ago.” You were able to pick the lock on the front door, the smell of mold and dirt filling your nostrils. Home sweet home.

Somehow, the kitchen table was still standing and the sliding glass door leading to the back porch was intact. Your father always used to joke that it was bulletproof. The last time you were in this room, you stabbed a creature that looked like your big brother. And that was shockingly the least complicated your life had been in twenty years.

“Make yourself at home Cas. I’ve got about,” You looked down at your watch, “nine hours and forty minutes until I become a chew toy and I’m going to spend it reminiscing and getting very, very drunk.” Cas gave you a look of disdain. “Hey, I didn’t ask you to be here.”

“You are handling your impending damnation remarkably well.” He sat down in a creaky chair as you started to empty out your bag.

“I’m not going to spend my last few hours cowering in the corner, Cas.” You opened the small tin box that you had brought. “I can’t fight what’s going to happen to me. The most I can do is stay here, away from Sam and Dean, and wait.” You repeated it over and over in your head as if you could convince yourself. Every bone in your body wanted to fight. It’s just who you were. You survived. But now, you were staring down the gaping mouth of hell for the man who taught you to live.

4:36 P.M.

You may have had a three hour head start to St. Louis, but Cas couldn’t drive like Dean could. Both brothers continued their attempts to call you but it was still to now avail. It didn’t matter. They knew where to find you.

The exact address of your childhood home was not hard to find. Your parent’s deaths were well publicized so Sam just followed the trail of articles. Sure enough, Cas’ truck was parked in front of the condemned building.

“Why would she pick this place?” Sam asked, taking in the sad sight.

“This is where it all started for her.” Dean answered somberly. “It’s where she wants it to end.”

Inside, a half empty bottle of Jack sat beside the pile of photographs you had been looking through. You told Cas dozens of stories, some through laughter, some tears, and some both. With music playing from your phone, you didn’t hear the new set of footprints until the Winchesters were standing in front of you. You jumped up from the table, the alcohol in your system making you dizzy.

“You told them!” You cast an accusing glare at the angel beside you.

“This isn’t what you want.” He replied in a quiet voice. You turned your panicked face back to the brothers. Sam’s expression held a sad understanding, but you couldn’t read Dean’s. He stepped towards you.

“You have to leave.” You ordered, backing away as he got closer. “I don’t want you here for this. Get back in the impala and leave.” You backed into the corner and Dean towered over you. “Please, Dean.” His eyes searched yours and knew. He pulled you into his arms, tucking your head under his chin.

“I’m not going anywhere, sweetheart.”

You didn’t fight him. You let him hold onto you as your body started to shake. It was another one of your selfish reasons for leaving. If he wasn��t here, if you couldn’t look at his face, you could pretend that you weren’t scared. Now he was here and all of that tough-girl bullcrap was gone.

“I’m right here baby.” He kissed your forehead, taking all of your stress and putting it on his shoulders. You would carry this together.

“Why did you leave?” Sam asked gently. You turned, Dean keeping his arms around you from behind.

“Because you shouldn’t have to see this, Sam. You watched it happen to your brother, I couldn’t make you watch it again. Neither of you should be put through this.” Dean lightly kissed your shoulder.

“You can’t do this alone.” He whispered.

“I had Cas.” You smirked. The three of you laughed, Cas even cracking a smile.

“Why don’t I go to a restaurant with quick service and get food?” Cas suggested.

“Fast food. It’s called fast food.” Dean snickered into your shoulder. You elbowed him.

“That would be great.”

The sound of a clock chiming startled all of you, Dean instinctively pushing you behind him. Sam sighed.

“It’s okay, It’s only five.” You were all so on edge that it felt later. The clock echoed still, connecting a memory in your mind.

“No way.” You broke away from Dean and found the living room. You must not have heard it earlier because of the music. Sure enough, the gigantic Grandfather clock was still ticking. “I can’t believe it still works.” You mused, running your fingers over the dust covered glass. “My dad loved this thing. He never let us play around it because he was scared that my brother and I would break it.” By some cruel irony, it lasted longer than he did.

10:29 P.M.

With stomachs full of fries and mediocre burgers, you had climbed up onto the roof- which was surprisingly still sturdy- to look at the stars. Five hours passed in a blink and you were all getting anxious. Sam and Cas were inside, giving you and Dean time alone.

“I want you to have this.” You began, talking over the music playing from your phone. You handed him the small tin that you kept all your pictures in. Dean raised a brow and you playfully rolled your eyes. “And no, there’s no playboy material in there so you can wipe that smirk off your face.” Dean chuckled and draped around your shoulders to pull you closer.

He opened the box and spilled the contents into his lap. The first image made him laugh. It was of you and Sam, fast asleep on a motel sofa, your head on his shoulder and half of his body dangling over the arm of the couch. Someone- aka Dean- had drawn mustaches on your faces.

“I forgot about this.” Dean put each photo back in the box as he looked at them. Some were from when you were a kid, but most were from your time with them. He paused at one in particular. It was of you hugging him from behind as he worked under the hood of the impala, both of you laughing at something he had said. You were at Bobby’s. Ellen had taken it.

“Damn,” Dean muttered, putting the picture on top of the others. You knew what he was thinking. He’d lost so many people. His parents, Bobby, Ellen and Jo, and countless others. Now he would have to add you to the list.

“When it comes, I’ll need to borrow your gun.” You said suddenly. He gave you a strange look, taking a second to understand. “I figured it would be a better way to go than becoming dog food.” Dean winced. This was not a subject he wanted to address. A part of him still had hope.

“Maybe there’s still a way.”

“Dean,” You sighed, “there would need to be an act of God or the gates of hell closing.” You had a little less than an hour now. Dean’s eyes lit up and he shifted to face you.

“That’s it. That’s how we can fight this.”

“Dean, what are you talking about?”

“When Sam was completing the trails, he was able to kill a hellhound with an angel blade. We can kill it.” His voice had a new sense of determination.

“Dean, there would just be more.” You scoffed. He couldn’t be serious.

“So we kill them!” He said it as if it was simple. “It’ll at least buy us more time to undo the deal.”

“Dean…” You looked at him like he was crazy, but the new found hope on his face made it impossible to rebuke.

“It’ll work.” He said, more to himself than to you. “It has to work.” You both fell silent, listening to the music. You almost laughed. Led Zeppelin’s ‘Stairway to Heaven’. You sang along in your head.

“And it’s whispered that soon, if we call the tune then the piper will lead us to reason. And a new day will dawn for those who stand long and the forests will echo with laughter.”

Surely, somebody up there was laughing. Whoever God was, he sure had a twisted sense of humor.

11:57 P.M.

“We need to get inside.” Dean announced, grabbing the tin and putting it in his jacket pocket. “It’ll be easier to corner the bitch so we can kill it.”

You both climbed down into the back yard. Sam and Cas were waiting, already filled in on the plan. Neither were overly confident, but if there was a chance, they were willing to try.

“You ready?” Sam asked. You gulped and gave the three of them a solemn nod. Each man filed inside, weapons at the ready. As soon as Dean was in, you slid the glass door shut, jamming a metal bar in between the door and the wall.

“Y/N!” Dean yelled, trying to force it open. “Y/N, what are you doing?” The door wouldn’t budge. “Let me out!”

You put your hand against the glass, palm splayed out where Dean’s fist pounded. You gave him a small, sad smile.

“It’s okay.” You mouthed. His hand flattened against yours. “It’s going to be okay.” You exchanged a glance with Sam and he gave you a wordless promise. He would make sure his brother would get through this. You locked your eyes with Dean’s. You never got tired of those emerald irises. Knowing that you put the life back in those perfect green eyes would give you enough courage to face what came next.

You closed your eyes, feeling a lone tear slide down your cheek.

12:00 A.M.

This time, the clock’s chiming didn’t make you jump. The howl did. Both Sam and Dean were desperately trying to get the door open, but Cas knew that this was what you wanted. He turned away.

“Damn it, Y/N! Open the door!” Dean shouted again, hitting the glass as hard as he could. You spoke just loud enough for them to hear you.

“I love you.” You opened your eyes only to find the heartbreak in his. “I love all of you.” You cried out as a set of claws dug deeply into your calf, yanking you backwards onto the concrete.

“No!” Dean screamed. He pulled so hard that the handle of the door snapped off. Sam was frozen now, neither brother able to tear their eyes away.

You tried to hold back your screams, but it was useless. The hellhound flipped you onto your back, claws ripping through your shoulder like paper. Your shrieks were loud enough to fill the kitchen.

“Baby, please.” Dean cried, his efforts in trying to break the glass merely giving him bruises. He was forced to watch the invisible beast create claw marks along your arms and chest. He felt every tear as if it were happening to him all over again. A pool of blood started to pour out beneath you.

Your most agonizing scream came when you felt the dog’s jaws clamp around your side. You looked up at the men above you. Dean’s face was stained with tears, as was his brother’s. They both looked so anguished, so shattered. So you remembered last night. You remembered their laughing faces and off-key singing. You remembered Sam’s comforting embrace and his knowing smile. You remembered the taste of Dean’s lips and the feeling of his body tangled with yours. You remembered their eyes in the sunset, sparkling and alive. And you smiled. Your boys.

“Y/N! No!” Dean screamed in horror as a chunk of your flesh was violently torn away. You stopped moving. “Y/N!” The last toll of the clock echoed throughout the entire house and the old Grandfather clock stopped ticking.

Sam pushed his brother to the side and fired his gun at the glass until it shattered. Dean bolted through, not caring if he got cut. The hound was gone, leaving only carnage in its wake. He fell to his knees.

“Y/N?” His voice was quiet now, hoarse from screaming. Your eyes stared blankly up at the stars, blood splattered across your face. He cradled your head in his hand. “Don’t do this to be, baby. Don’t do this to me.” He pulled you into his lap. “Come on sweetheart, don’t make me lose you too. Please.”

Sam’s chest tightened, watching his brother break down. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw Dean cry this hard. Cas had vanished, so it was just the two of them now. After a moment, Sam let out a heavy sigh.

“Why don’t you head out the car? I’ll clean up.”

“No.” Dean growled, head jerking up to look at him. “I have to do this.” Dean straightened and he scooped your body up into his arms. Blood rushed down his clothes like rain, seeping through to his skin. It would stain him for the rest of his life. He pressed a kiss to your forehead one last time and gently closed your eyes.

And she’s buying a stairway to Heaven.

Tuesday 8:33 A.M.

The ride back to the bunker was silent. Even when they got back, Sam knew better than to say anything. Dean went to take a shower, shoving the small tin to the back of his drawer. Sam poured himself a drink. He looked out on an empty library and lifted his glass, as if he were toasting you.

Dean turned the water to a scalding temperature, feeling it burn as it rinsed off the sticky crimson liquid that covered his chest and arms. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw your smile going blank as the hellhound tore away your skin. And all he could hear was that stupid clock. Before he even realized it, his hand punched the tiled wall over and over again until it cracked, his knuckles splitting open and oozing blood. He didn’t even feel it. He didn’t feel anything.

It was dark, but you could still see the blade hanging above you, glistening menacingly. Spiked restraints pierced your wrists, holding you down on the table.

“Sam? Cas? Anybody!” You cried. There was no hiding the terror in your voice. The saw screeched to life and slowly lowered down towards you. “Help me! Somebody please!” You struggled, only making the spikes dig further into your skin. There was no escaping this. Your screams filled the darkness. “Dean!”

General Tag: @rae-gar-targaryen; @takemepedropascal; @childhood-imagination; @mylovegoesto; @yellowbadgergirl; @itmejado

Supernatural: @desimarie12; @deandreamernp; @vicmc624; @halesandy @livshaes; @d-whinchestergirl87; @mrspeacem1nusone

The Deal Series: @writeroutoftime

#gore warning #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester #castiel #supernatural imagines #winchester takeover #october #jensen ackles #Jared Padalecki #to be continued?

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inb4belphienaps · 3 years

Text

warnings: demon hunter au, monsterification (?), blood, gore, fighting (physical), death word count: 2028

Through the sounds of one man’s grunting and the clash of metal meeting hardened flesh, the ground of the forest shakes. Whatever birds had remained in the wake of the battlefield signal to one another (warning not just their own, but also the other inhabitants) that the current fight taking place could have devastating repercussions. More devastating than the smell of iron continuing to linger in the area.

As the earth shifts, flashes of bright light mingle with green smoke, creating a pool of fog that, were it privy to the eyes of outsiders, would hint at sorcery being afoot.

Magic holds its weight here in these lands. Depending on where your loyalties lie, you are either the hunter or the hunted. The former is normally trained in combat and taught to wield their powers as well as their swords. The latter, on the other hand, is feared, for the reasons that they are hunted are rooted deep in their very nature.

They go by many names – creatures of the dark, harbingers of evil, infernal bearers of sin. The list continues. And the stories grow. Generation after generation, children are taught to fear them. They are…demons. Children too in fact, of the King of Hell.

A royalty shrouded in mystery. The legend says that those who look upon his face never again see the light of day. And, since, no one has been able to confirm nor deny the numerous depictions of him, littering the books of those whose teeth chatter at the very mention of his title and covering the walls of the temples erected in honor of those who fight against him, he is better thought of as the very embodiment of your worst fears.

The soldiers are easier to motivate that way, more willing to be shaped into obedience. Whether that is seen as the mangled bodies of their loved ones or heard as the cries of the innocent, they are to never show mercy to the beings that do his bidding.

However, there are those who (baring the markings of a heretic), believe that these monsters were once human. That they sold their souls and gave into the darkness. That they were swayed by sweet words of promises unkept and in the end only saw suffering.

There are also those who, in the same manner, believe that these monsters take on the forms of humans. Either the humans they’ve converted or humans that they are to ravage, soon-to-be victims of a plague that cannot be cured or forgotten.

Dangerous thoughts like these are what make the difference between a good soldier and an immovable hunter. If there is doubt or a shadow of sympathy when facing these beasts, you may very well find your head removed from your body, and then, shortly after, consumed in its entirety.

(Yes...they feed on humans.)

Blood mars the surrounding trees and smothers the leaves, painting them an ugly copper. Where the dirt turns black, Simeon knows a struggle took place. How valiantly his brothers and sisters must have fought, he thinks. And how unsavory a death they must have met.

With this in mind, he steels his resolve and focuses all his energy into the magic materializing in his hands, imbuing it into his sword. He’d perfected his techniques. Trained until they’d become an extension of him and his will.

“Why”, the creature says, “they didn’t tell me they were saving the best ‘til last.”

Simeon neither flinches at nor acknowledges its voice. A voice that would otherwise send humans fleeing, pushes him to carry on, to increase his speed and thrust forwards with accuracy.

“But I suppose I should’ve known. The ones before you were far too weak to stand against me.”

He lunges, twisting half-way when he’s met with a swipe of a giant arm and a lash of a bright-green tail. Green. The color of evil. Green. The color of sin.

“They never had a chance.”

“Quit your blithering, monster. I have no intentions of hearing you speak.”

The creature smiles. Though its features are ghastly and covered with remains, Simeon can make out the ends of its mouth and how they curl upwards.

“You’ll have to cut out my tongue then, hunter.”

With each instance that their magics meet, the world around them becomes all the more obsolete. The serene landscape is instead transformed into an arena, of which only the strongest contender will leave from unscathed.

Simeon has hunted many of these puppets in his time. Cutting their strings and burning their shells, he’d gotten used to the smell of them. Except their appearance is another matter entirely. This creature that stands before him is a testament to that.

Its scales shine in the sunlight, like jewels beneath clear waters. Its limbs are strong and impressive. Its horns, like the antlers of a magnificent stag, demand his attention. Disregarding the loathing he feels; the creature is almost beautiful.

Almost.

He creates some distance between them, reconfiguring his stance and propelling himself off the scarped face of a mound of rocks piled atop one another just so.

The creature is quick to respond and close in on him, running on all fours at him head-first, like a raging bull. Its strides are far and wide, causing Simeon to abandon future attempts at discouraging close combat.

There is a menacing, contained kind of anger that permeates from the creature. He senses it every time its magic brushes against him be it the patches of exposed skin or his armor. There’s a heat to it too. A hot measure of lethality that reminds him to be careful.

Demons are after all, tricky beings with a history of dabbling in the dark arts (necromancy was nothing to them). These are experienced fighters, unhinged and free to do as they please without their need for self-preservation or the need to maintain their dignity getting in the way.

The sheer force of their clash resounds, akin to a clap of thunder and the sparks that fly as its talons scrape against Simeon’s metal gives ode to the lightning that would normally accompany it.

When they part, following a further exchange of blows, Simeon is panting, and the creature seems excited by the notion.

“You are a creature of the dark. You take solace in the shadows, so you may attempt to flee from your sins but make no mistake, beast”, he hisses, jutting his chin out defiantly with a type of pride that the creature knew all too well, “I will have your head.”

The creature laughs and bares its fangs. Only…the hunter in front of him pictures how they’d glint on his neck, to serve both as a reminder and as a medal for his efforts.

Taking this monster down and fashioning his remains into something wearable? It was the least he could do for his companions who had sacrificed themselves and died fighting. Hell itself would have to freeze over before he’d admit defeat in any sense of the word so that their deaths would not have been in vain.

Suddenly, something splits in the air, the fractures dissipating in a myriad of pieces that could pass for shattered glass and Simeon is temporarily rendered immobile. His eyes widen, and he feels the creature within him. It was invading his mind.

Sentiments of nights spent practicing on his own and memories of harsh winters spent in front of crackling fires cause his shoulders to shake. There, amidst the confusion and horror, his friend’s cheerful visage startles him back into reality.

“Didn’t your mother ever tell you?”, the creature chides. “It’s dangerous to go looking for the dead.”

So, the creature knew his intentions. To find his friend and give him a proper burial. His friend, who was probably now disfigured beyond recognition, was waiting for Simeon to find him. He could feel it. His friend, the one who had been there to see him through the hardest times of his life, was calling to him.

“Silence”, Simeon spits, venom coating his demand as he hurtles daggers and magic alike at the looming silhouette shrouded in mist. Each one ricochets off of its hide, and he clenches his jaw. He wasn’t focusing hard enough.

“I’ll give you two seconds to prepare yourself”, it says.

The creature then comes to a standstill and Simeon feels the first inklings of dread. A sentence like that meant that he was either going to be met with a resistance he had no hopes of fathoming or it had a trump card up its sleeve – another nasty trick it could use to its advantage.

“One.”

Wind rustles the foliage above and carries his scent towards it. He tightens his grip on his trusty weapon and tilts his head to the side to crack his neck.

“Two.”

With inhuman speed, it leaps, first into the thickets, disappearing from view, then to his side, grabbing him by the scruff as he’s rendered helpless.

Simeon squirms, his sword doing little to better the situation, and he kicks at the creature’s torso. The dull sounds of his foot colliding with its build send a rush of panic through him. And then-

And then he is falling. And the creature is smiling, eyes narrowing in satisfaction as he looks down at the devastation tainting his features. The creature stands at the edge of the cliff, watching him descend into the abyss.

“What a shame”, it says. “You put up such a good fight, little hunter.”

As the creature turns his back, its ears twitch and it swivels around in disbelief. Was there a humming noise? A buzzing? A ringing in its ears?

It doesn’t have the chance to come to a conclusion. Simeon surges upwards from within the depths, colliding with its giant frame, and crushes it to the ground, with the same foot he’d used to kick it just moments before firmly planted on its chest.

“You…you have wings”, the creature whispers.

Simeon resists the urge to shiver. He hadn’t known he’d had them. He hadn’t known he was even capable of conjuring such things.

In its moment of weakness, he plunges his sword into its chest, watching the expression in its eyes change from bewilderment to indifference. Perhaps this was its way of dealing with death. Upon realizing that it too, like him, is capable of it, perhaps it resigned itself to its inevitable fate.

“What is your name, hunter?”, the creature rasps.

He hesitates. It is said that once a demon utters your name, you are forever cursed. And yet, with the outcome of the battle decided, he’s willing to take his chances.

“My name is Simeon.”

The creature nods once and sighs, as if vaguely fatigued.

“And what do they call you? Do your kind even have names?”

It snickers, and Simeon removes his sword, the severe movement causing it to stiffen and clutch at the fresh wound, talons covered in its own sanguineous substance. He feels no remorse or contrition at the pitiful sight, and he digs his sword in once more, eliciting a grunt. The creature assesses his hands – vigorous and seemly, and baring a ring too.

“Satan. That is my name.”

As the sun sets on the horizon and bathes the scenery in twilight, a shadow emerges from the edge of the forest close to the border. His clothes are ripped, and his blonde hair is covered in mud.

He stands, taking a deep breath in, and closes his eyes. When next he opens them, they glow a vibrant chartreuse – its yellow and green hues mixing together to create an uncanny image. The dust has settled and so has the blood running through his veins.

A body lies beneath his feet. Its uniform indicates that the man was once a solider. And as he turns him over, a familiar-looking ring falls out of the soldier’s pocket. He stoops down to pick it up and admires it in the low light.

Yes, those seemly hands and those crystalline irises that’d shown unwavering tenacity.

He will return. If only to cradle that hunter’s pretty little head in his hands.

#when i first considered this pair #this concept was FAR from what i thought i'd write them in #also that lrb was too perfect not to have come before #might have to edit this when i wake up omg #obey me au #obey me writing #obey me angst #obey me simeon #obey me! simeon #obey me satan #obey me! satan #satan x simeon

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40sbarnes · 4 years

Text

Medici: Spymasters of Florence

Chapter 6: Don’t Shoot the Messenger

part 6! its a little long i know but i hope you all enjoy it nontheless!

tw for this chapter: mention of blood and some gore towards the end, pls be careful <3

pairings; lorenzo x reader, (friends) francesco x reader

taglist; @brynthebulldozer @mythicalamphitrite @nano035 @valravnsraven

The fresh linen sheets of the Medici home were calling your name as you made your way down the high street, playing go-fish in unsuspecting Florentine's pockets. However, it wasn't those linen sheets and four poster bed you were retiring in, you were heading home. At least you'd be away from Lorenzo, no bed quality could counter that particular luxury. It has been mission after mission since you began working for Lorenzo, with Jacopo calling on you more and more also, you were exhausted, not to mention the stress of double crossing the Pazzis. You forced yourself not to imagine the consequences if your betrayal were to be found out. You weren't sure how much longer this could go on. You thought it best to wait for something big from Lorenzo to tell Jacopo, so you could go back to just being a Pazzi spy. The extra Medici money was nice, sure, but you'd gotten by before without it, and you weren't certain it was worth all this extra stress. Although something inside you enjoyed working against Pazzi, finally feeling like you were on the right side, your morals weren't going to pay for your meals at the end of the day. You were almost home now, your fingers rapidly losing their stickiness. You decided to think more on the future after some rest.

The sun was still high in the sky but you were in desperate need of sleep, and were in no mood to wait for nightfall. You skipped up the steps to your room, quickly locking the door behind you, sliding your trusty wooden chair under the door handle for extra security. Your eyes instantly landed on your bed, your fingers fumbled behind you to loosen the drawstrings of your dress before you collapsed into it.

"I don't think I pay you enough for this," standing up straight at the sudden voice you grabbed your dagger, aiming it towards the noise. At the last second your eyes registered Lorenzo perched on a chair in the corner of your room, a shadow cast across his figure. You moved your wrist just in time that as you threw the blade across the room it landed squarely in the wall beside his ear, rather than in him.

"That is no way to treat a guest in your home," Lorenzo glanced at the blade inches from his head, pulling it out of your wall to play with it instead. "Have I taught you nothing?" He continued his mockery.

"You are not a guest," you relaxed your posture, surveying the room, wondering the obvious, "that implies you are welcome here." How did he get in? Lorenzo was taken aback for a moment, it is evident he is still not quite accustomed to the way you treat him, in such contrast to the people he is usually surrounded with.

"Why are you here, Lorenzo?" You asked when he didn't have a snarky remark.

"You and I, we have a very poor line of communication," he began explaining, still examining the blade in his hands, "I have a mission for you, yet we have no scheduled meeting so what else was I to do?" The grandeur in which he spoke would lead weaker minded people to believe he was making an ounce of sense.

"Not break into my home?" You suggested, collapsing onto your bed, which felt undeserving of that title after your sleepover at the Medici's. Your eyes fluttered closed as your head hit your pillow regardless, the exhaustion fully washing over your body.

"Well this couldn't wait, I need you to do this tonight," he continued. You groaned into your pillow, you just wanted a break. "The Pazzi's are delivering something important t-"

You spun to lay on your back, staring at the ceiling, "The Pazzi's?"

"Yes. There's whisperings of a contract of some sort with the Orsini's. Some type of document anyways. It cannot be delivered."

"The Orsini's?" You asked, finally turning to face Lorenzo, looking at him sideways from where you laid.

"Yes we've established the two names," Lorenzo sighed, agitated.

"As in, Clarice Orsini?" You sat up, leaning on your hands.

"Precisely. That's why Jacopo can't reach her uncle before the marriage," he connected the dots for you.

"So you think she'll agree?"

"Mother seems to think so," Lorenzo took a breath, "truthfully we haven't heard from her since the balcony. I hadn't really thought of it since, my mind had been more occupied with fainting spies," his lips turned upwards for a moment, and you shared the tiny grin with him.

"Jacopo certainly doesn't want you to marry her," you informed.

"Hmm?" He hummed, waiting for you to continue.

"I spied on her today, to see if she'd go through with it."

"Are you sure that wasn't your personal vendetta?" He chuckled.

You brushed past his remark before you spent too long thinking about it, "Your cousin tried to convince her, but she didn't seem sold. No offence."

Lorenzo hung his head for a moment, focusing intently on your cracked flooring. "Well, all the more reason tonight is so important."

At that you laid back down, all you wanted to do tonight was sleep. "What is it you want me to do?" Your eyebrows furrowed as your eyes closed.

"Use your talents. Intercept the messenger before he reaches Orsini, it’s only a slip of parchment. Just don't get caught," he stood up from where he was seated. You opened your eyes to study him as he moved.

"And return it to you afterwards?" You glanced upwards as he walked closer to you.

"No. Not tonight. I'm... busy," his eyes didn't meet yours. The slight hesitation told you far more than it should've. You turned to look towards the wall.

"Poor Ardinghelli," you sighed, reaching into your dress for your poison. Lorenzo's hand grabbed yours, forcing you to look back at him. He didn't say a word as he took the poison from you, handing you back your dagger in its place. Lorenzo’s lack of comment about his visiting Lucrezia proved the insinuation to be true.

"Relax!" You rolled your eyes as you secured your knife back into its holster. "I wasn't even-"

"Meet tomorrow in my office at dusk," Lorenzo headed for the door. You just nodded, silenced by his sudden seriousness. He removed the chair from the door, going to open it. "Be careful," the foreign words were quiet as they fell from his lips, the sound of the door closing behind him threatening to hide them completely.

—-

A yawn escaped your lips, you hadn't gotten a chance to sleep. You knew if you had rested for the few hours of the mission you wouldn't have gotten back up in time. Instead, you changed into one of your darker coloured dresses, securing a simple belt around your waist to hold a thin sword on. You still had your dagger holstered onto your thigh, but this dress didn't have a leg slit, and the sword was much easier to spar with. You donned a dark cloak on top also, to conceal the sword and your face on the off chance you were spotted.

You had left just after sundown, headed straight for the docks. They were close enough that you could see if someone were to leave the Pazzi property, and you thought you may as well exchange some of the goods you'd collected with Carolina while you waited.

"You don't look so good," she commented.

"Don't get these types of comments from Ol'Bart," you joked, counting the coins she'd handed you, peering up at her from under your hood.

"I'm serious, y/n," she raised a cold finger to your face, trailing your cheekbone which was much more prominent on your face these days. "You're losing the red in your cheeks."

"That's because you don't pay me enough for a proper meal, Carolina," you continued teasing her, you didn't need her coddling you.

"Uh huh," she raised an eyebrow, dropping an extra gold coin into your palm.

"Thank you," you sang, before leaving her stall. The night was getting darker by the second, you imagined the messenger would be leaving soon. You made your way closer, maintaining a safe distance but gaining a clear line of sight. You glanced upwards as a small droplet fell onto your cloak. Watching the dark clouds above begin to spill. Any minute now...

...Any hour now. You had been waiting in the rain for hours. You had made your way up onto a roof of a nearby building after a while. The traffic of people on the streets had all but died down. All the stalls at the dock were closed, Carolina had long gone home. Lorenzo's information must have been off. All this time, you could've been sleeping. Another yawn slipped from your lips at the thought. The poison was definitely not fully out of your system, you still felt that strange weakness that came with it. You rested your chin on your hands, debating how much longer you should wait before heading home. You felt like you had probably already waited past that point.

Then you heard it, it was loud in the silence of the night. The Pazzi gate creaking open. A dark figure emerged, glancing down the streets before heading off, in the direction you already knew he'd be going. You held in a snort, should've looked up, buddy. You waited a moment before trailing him, dropping onto the next roof with barely any sound. He was quick, being able to walk on a stable path, but you were able to keep up easily for the most part. It was taking a lot of effort to control your breathing, but you were managing. That was, until he made a turn down an alley, and the building was much taller than the roof you were on, there was no way you'd reach it.

Your eyes locked onto him, he was barely taking in his surroundings, and he’d probably gotten used to these simple deliveries. You carefully lowered yourself off the roof, on the opposite side of the building from him, onto the street. You peered around the corner afterwards, he was still headed on in the same direction. You began following him, keeping to the shadows. This wasn't going to be as easy as you'd imagined. It was a lot harder to pick pocket when you were the only two people on a rainy street. But it wasn't impossible.

Catching up to him right as he made his way down the next alley, you scanned your surroundings. Just a few metres away a market stall was positioned against a building, the perfect climbing block to get back onto the roof. That would be your exit. You grabbed the sheets of paper from his satchel with minimal effort, spinning on your heels and running for the stall, remaining light on your feet. You hopped onto the stall, it wasn't quite as tall as you thought. You'd have to jump and pull yourself up, you slid the parchment into your belt and hopped, a hand grabbing your ankle as you did. You desperately tried to grab onto the ledge but it was too far, and you were thrown onto the ground behind you by your attacker.

You glanced up to see the man you'd been following, surprise surprise. "Who the hell are you?" He spoke through gritted teeth, as you attempted to get some air back in your lungs after that fall. He pushed his cape aside to draw his sword, but you drew yours quicker, slicing away his before he could even begin to threaten you with it. He simply watched as his blade fell across the street, allowing you to swing at his ankle. The man fell to his knees, as you stood up, and began running. He spun on his knees, grabbing your blade with his bare hands, attempting to pull you back with it, but you let it fall out your grasp before he could. You kept sprinting, diving down alleys in an attempt to create a distance, but you were tired. Far too tired. The rain made every step feel heavier. His ankle must have hindered him though, as you couldn't hear any footsteps behind you. You were coming up on the docks at the end of the alley, it would be easy to slip through all the smaller houses up here. You glanced behind you, he was nowhere in sight. You were proud of your quick thinking, and spun back around to keep your eye on the new target, when you saw your old one standing at the end of the alley. How had he gotten here? He must've known a shortcut you didn't. He was resting all his weight on his left leg. You had definitely wounded him, but he didn't seem to care. He still had your sword in his hand. You stopped your running at the sight of him, considering your options. He was a tall man, you were exhausted and weak from the poison, not to mention you only had your dagger left buried under your dress to use to sword fight. You spun around, deciding to run the way you had come from and try to escape a different way. He quickly followed, swinging your own weapon at you. He was gaining on you, his strides much longer than yours. You just had to outrun him until his ankle was too much for him to keep going, but you weren't sure that was going to happen any time soon.

One of his aimless swings caught your cloak, he was getting close. You had a last second idea, and untied your belt from your waist. You spun around, holding the belt taught in both hands, attempting to catch the sword, or at least knock it out of his hands. He swung for your head, and you just ducked in time, the blade coming into contact with the tip of your hood, knocking it back off your head.

While you were ducked you slid towards him and kicked out at his ankle, now standing behind him. He seethed and turned, swinging at you again, but you jumped backwards, before looping the belt around the end of the sword, and pulling it towards you and out of his grasp. It went flying down the alley, far out of your reach. You went running for it, but he went running for you, tackling you to the ground, his arms around your torso. You took the opportunity and wrapped your newly weaponised belt around his neck, tightening your grasp on it and pulling upwards, blocking his airflow. He struggled, his arms going from your waist to your wrists, trying to break your grasp. You flipped over, so you were on top of him, pinning one of his arms down with your knee. His free hand kept pulling at you, he wasn't giving up. You lifted his head up from the cobbled stone, before slamming it back down, desperately wanting him to stop trying. The hood fell underneath him, and you instantly recognised him. He was the man who had been talking to Francesco in the courtyard yesterday. He got his other arm free from under his knee while you weren't focused on it and used it to punch you directly across the face. The shock loosened your grasp enough for him to break free, and grab the belt for himself. You decided to cut your losses and run for your discarded sword. You reached it just as he caught up with you, but he just grabbed your wrist and twisted it, your hand falling open to drop the sword. He kicked it out of your reach. Your eyes switched from the shining metal of the blade up into the unknown man’s eyes.

"I know you!" He breathed out, not letting go of his hold on you.

You shook your head desperately. "You were speaking to Francesco yesterday, don't you work for the Pazzi's?" He seemed genuinely confused.

You ignored him, desperately trying to break his grasp, you learn down, biting at his fingers, finally releasing you. You continued running towards the sounds of the waves, this was bad. He knew you. He could tell Pazzi who stopped him. Your sprinting was suddenly halted as your belt was pulled around your neck from behind, forcing your backwards. He forcefully spun your around, pushing you to the ground. You began punching and kicking, but you pinned you down. You only had one free arm now, and your scratches and punches weren't doing anything from where you were.

"I wonder how Pazzi's gonna feel when we tell him about this," he smirked, knowing this would be a big payout. You spluttered as you struggled to get air into your body. Your throat was closing. You reached out onto the street but your sword was nowhere near. Your whole face was red and he tightened his grip even more, you were holding onto consciousness but you didn't know how much longer you could last. You suddenly remembered your dagger, and desperately kicked out, pulling up the skirt of your dress as quick as possible. Your fingers curled around the handle, pulling it out its holster, before you landed it into the stomach of the man on top of you, the only angle you could really reach. His grasp instantly loosened, the belt falling around your neck.

The man coughed out blood, directly onto you. He slowly looked down at where you'd impaled him. You moved to put both hands onto your dagger, and began twisting it. His weak hands fell on top of yours. "Please," he began begging, "Pazzi needn't know anything. I promise."

"No." You agreed, using all your energy to push the knife up his torso, through his chest, all the way up to his throat, "he needn't." Blood spluttered all over you, you were completely drenched. The man’s body became limp, and you pushed him to the side before it could collapse onto you. You stood up, taking large gulps of air, trying to regain your breath. You took the belt from beside his corpse, tying it back around your waist, before hobbling down the alley to retrieve your sword, sliding it back into its place. You returned to the dead messenger, pulling your blood soaked dagger out of the man’s neck, wiping it on his cloak. Your eyes got lost in his, how easily you could've been him. How in many ways, you were. He was just a Pazzi spy too. You took a deep breath, now was not a time for empathy, before lifting your hood up back over your blood permeated hair, moving on to the task of getting rid of the body. Luckily you were close to the docks.

#daniel sharman #daniel sharman x reader #lorenzo de medici #lorenzo de medici x reader #medici fic #medici: masters of florence #medici #medici: spymasters of florence #francesco pazzi x reader #francesco x reader

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concussed-to-pieces · 4 years

Text

Whether It Works Out Or Not Part One

Fandom: Red Dead Redemption 2

Pairing: Eventual Arthur Morgan/Named OFC

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: You guys wanna' join me in yeehell? I don't know what's happened to me. I'm from New England. I shouldn't find this cowboy chicanery appealing, and yet here I am with eighty something hours in the game. So! I've only just gotten to Chapter Three and I have avoided spoilers thus far. Enjoy!

[Spoiler warning for the first three chapters of the game!]

Tag List: @huliabitch @cookiethewriter @pedrosbigdorkenergy @thirstworldproblemss @anonymouscosmos @culturalrebel @karmezii @teaofpeach @crookedmoonsaultpunk @zombiexbody @nelba @gabrielle1776 @toxiicpop @mstgsmy

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains gore/graphic depictions of violence, historical inaccuracies and general peril. Stay safe!]

Irene Craft had lived as a man for six months when she first met him.

Six glorious, difficult, yet somehow simultaneously carefree months.

The fateful night she had decided to leave her husband and make her own way in the world had been a long time coming. Every book, every treatise, every pamphlet she could get her hands on, she had devoured. She had no finances to speak of, everything was in her husband's name, so she knew that her struggle would be long and fraught with peril. But she refused to endure the abuse any longer, especially once he made an idle comment about pregnancy and how it would 'bind her to him forever.'

His bone-chilling chuckle afterwards had stiffened her resolve to steel. She left as the moon waned, her mount's saddlebags full of food and the mended clothes she would need for her new life.

In the city of Saint Denis, she sold her hair. Once her mother's pride and joy; when brushed out it reached the young woman's hips. The curls were unruly and dull russet in shade, but her mother had sworn up and down they bore auburn tones if the sun hit just right. Irene wondered briefly what her mother would say about her doing this, going to be shorn like a sheep, but she quickly put the thought out of her head. Her mother had been dead for nearly five years at that point, and her father in the ground for two. He had lived long enough to see her married off to the man he deemed a suitable match, and then the good Doctor Craft had passed on.

The barber, at the very least, was sober and much more kind than she had anticipated. He didn't begrudge her the few tears she did let fall, and he gave her a fair price for her locks.

With that business settled, Irene acquired supplies with her newfound wealth and headed up into the mountains. If her luck held, no one would come looking for such a delicate, fragile lady in the dangerous climes. She would take her chances, regardless.

…

The first few months were...challenging.

There was a massive difference between having the knowledge from books and having the experience that one could only garner out in the field. Bitter cold and hunger were excellent teachers though, and she had always been a quick study. Her mistakes were not often repeated.

Irene learned how to fletch her own arrows, learned how to snare small game and how to track large prey, how to build her shelters in the lee of bluffs to fend off the howling winds that whipped through the mountains. She made her living by hunting deer and other game to sell for their hides and meat in the nearby town of Valentine. No one would look for a woman if all they saw was a man, so she kept bundled up and pitched her voice into a low rasp when she needed to interact with other folks.

Irene had decided, in a fit of petulance, that she would call herself Frank. Franklin had been her father's name, and no doubt if he had been blessed with a son, the child would have been plagued by it as well. Doctor Craft loathed it when folk called him Frank, always correcting them with a belligerent harumph. Saints preserve them if they dared to call him Frankie.

So Frank Craft she became, the soft-spoken hunter who lived alone in the hills.

It was peaceful, but more importantly she was free.

Until the day she stumbled into a trap.

...

Again, she had been living in the mountains for around six months when this particular disaster struck. It had been a long day spent tracking a bull elk, which she had managed to fell just as night blanketed the landscape. Had it still been daylight out, she doubted she would have found herself in such a precarious position.

As it was, she had debated making camp right there, but ultimately decided to lash the hulking beast to her horse and forge her way back to her previous site.

She had been leading her horse through the fresh powder, not wanting to tax the weary animal, and didn't see the bear trap before her boot landed squarely in the middle of it. A mistake that would have cost her the whole leg, had she not been wearing these particular heavy furred boots. The trap also seemed worn, not crushing her foot outright as she had feared but simply gripping her ankle like a vise.

Though admittedly, it mattered very little. She was stuck. Her horse, a skittish, ghostly pale thing by the name of Bluster, immediately panicked at the sound of the trap snapping shut and fled. Irene swore at the damn animal until her voice threatened to give out, calling him every unkind name in the book while she tried to pry the jaws of the trap open to no avail.

She sat down awkwardly in the snow, bracing her free foot and then straining backwards in an attempt to unseat the tree that the trap's chain was secured to. Unfortunately for her, it held just fine. Then, she tried hobbling over to the tree and seeing if she could shim the chain off with a wedge, but that also proved futile.

Irene growled more obscenities under her breath, flopping onto her back and hammering her fists into the snow at her sides. "Shit." She sighed, the reality of her situation dawning slowly. She was trapped in a device that would no doubt cut off the circulation to her foot. There was a high probability of her losing the foot if that occurred. If, of course, she didn't perish from the cold or lack of food first.

Irene pressed her hands to her eyes, sucking in a lungful of the crisp, pine-scented air while she tried to assure herself that she would manage to escape this mess just like all the others. She wouldn't just give up, absolutely not!

As she sat there wracking her brain and trying to see whether she could muscle the trap apart enough for her to at least wiggle her foot out of her boot, she heard the distinct sound of a horse bumbling through the undergrowth. "Bluster!" She shouted, her voice a strange combination of husky and ragged. "You bastard, runnin' off at the first sign of trouble!"

But the horse that greeted her eyes first was not, in fact, Bluster. It was an appaloosa, still shaggy with its winter coat. On its back was a man in a heavy blue jacket, shearling peeking out at the collar. And in his hands were the reins for the sheepish-looking Bluster, who peered around the appaloosa and whinnied guiltily at her.

"Howdy mister." The man shook Bluster's reins. "I reckon this fine specimen is yours?"

Irene had never been more thankful to see a huge, imposing man in all her life. "Yessir, yes he is. I know we've only just met, but I don't suppose you'd be willing to offer me a helping hand?" She gruffed out, indicating her trapped foot with a grimace.

The man's face was in shadow from his hat, the moonlight overhead throwing everything into stark contrast. She caught a brief flash of teeth when he smiled. "Oh sure." He drawled, dismounting and securing Bluster to a nearby tree. His own horse he simply left the reins to trail, no doubt trusting the creature to behave itself. That done, he sauntered over to her, crouched down and with one low grunt, easily forced the jaws of the trap apart. "There. Simple enough. You weren't in there for very long, were you?" He asked, sounding a bit worried while she vigorously rubbed the circulation back into her leg. With any luck, she would escape with nothing but some bruising.

"My sincerest thanks." Irene said gratefully, "no, it's hardly been an hour." She cocked her head curiously. "May I know the name of my rescuer, sir?"

"Uh, Arthur." He replied, shaking her proffered hand. "You sound like you've got some learnin' under your belt there, Mister…?"

"Frank Craft, Mister Arthur, and I don't know what fate would have befallen me had you not stumbled across the," Irene paused, raising her voice pointedly at Bluster, "titanic coward that is my loyal steed. I'm in your debt, my friend." She waved a hand at Bluster, indicating his heavy burden. "As you can see, I had a relatively successful hunt before this misfortune befell me. Normally I'd head into town with it at daybreak, but seeing as you've saved my life and all, it's only fair that you should have it."

"Whoa now, I ain't helped you to get your hunt." Arthur protested, tipping his head to the side and permitting the moon's illumination to reach beneath the brim of his hat. Irene was momentarily struck dumb by just how blue his eyes were, nearly missing when he continued, "too many folk in this world only help other people on account of gettin' somethin' in return. If I was caught in a trap and I ain't had nothin' to give you for freein' me aside from gratitude, would you leave me?"

"What? No, that's barbaric." Irene almost forgot to adjust her voice, wincing when it cracked awkwardly.

Arthur chuckled, getting to his feet and offering her a hand up. She stumbled, her foot still numb, and the man kept a firm hand on her elbow until she regained her balance. "Now, that noble hogwash bein' said, I do got a lot of mouths to feed. So if the offer still stands, Mister Frank, I'd be mighty grateful."

"Absolutely! As long as you'll put it to use." And really, what was one day's worth of work to her? She could always find another creature to stalk and harvest. Bluster whickered nervously when she approached, the horse's ears flicking back and forth to catch the sound of her voice when she grumbled about his cowardice. "Kneel, Bluster." The horse clumsily obeyed and Irene untied the elk from his back, rolling it off onto the snow.

"Huh, that's a neat trick. I wouldn't have thought of that." Arthur remarked. "Teachin' a horse his dancin' steps and such."

"How else would I have gotten it up onto him?" Irene asked, grinning when Arthur chuckled again. "Of course, seeing as you muscled that trap open like it was nothing, I doubt you've ever had to worry about that sort of problem."

As if to prove her point, Arthur shouldered the elk up from the ground and neatly deposited it onto his own horse. The sturdy beast didn't so much as nicker, obviously used to this treatment. "You're more than welcome back at my camp, Mister Frank." He offered. "I reckon there's enough on this big bastard to warrant you gettin' a bowl of stew in the bargain."

Irene was already shaking her head before he could finish, politely declining his invitation. "I'm afraid I'm not suitable for most company, Mister Arthur. Been out here alone for too long. Maybe once the thaw hits, I'll suss out human companionship again."

Arthur chewed thoughtfully for a moment, then spat off to the side. "Well, I am mighty grateful all the same, Mister Frank. I know the others will appreciate this. Adios until we meet again, then?"

He touched the brim of his hat and Irene returned the gesture with a smile. "Adieu, Mister Arthur."

…

Two months went by before their paths crossed once more.

Irene had located a dense thicket of blackberry bushes down in the lowlands and spent almost two entire days stripping the branches of their fruit. A house was coming together just outside of Valentine, and that meant soon enough there would be a gathering for the last push of assembly. As she daydreamed about the most recent time she had been to a party (a dreary affair for her husband's birthday, full of ah the stately beauty and oh isn't she a catch despite her age), she failed to notice Bluster growing severely agitated about something.

Now granted, the horse's name was Bluster for a reason; he was always in a twist about one thing or another. So Irene paid him very little mind. By the time she noticed the problem, Bluster had snapped his tether line and taken off like a shot.

A bear, it was a bear, oh sweet Lord. Irene froze, a handful of berries halfway to her mouth while the beast scratched at the ground not fifteen feet away from her. It hasn't spotted me, she realized, trying desperately to recall what she had read about black bears. Was she supposed to run? Was she supposed to back away slowly? Wave her arms and yell?

Shit.

The bear grumbled, glancing around and sampling the air suspiciously. It appeared to notice her and reared up on its hind legs, unleashing a deafening roar. She was frozen, her knees shaking as the creature lumbered forward. She couldn't even open her mouth to scream. It rushed her with what seemed to be the devastating speed of a locomotive and she was knocked prone, her hand darting to her side, draw your knife idiot!

Her head flew back from the momentum of the assault and struck the ground hard when she landed, the blow sending sparking wheels of color across her vision and fading everything out for what felt like a lifetime. She had assumed she was dead, but someone shaking her shoulder roughly roused her back to consciousness. Irene groaned in pain, stirring.

"Alright, he lives! Wasn't sure for a little bit there." That voice. She knew that voice. "You comin' 'round, Mister Frank?"

Frank. Frank. Right, that was her. She was Frank. And that voice… "Arthur?" She rasped blearily.

He was on one knee over her, blocking out the sun with his large form. He inclined his head, drawling, "in the flesh, Mister Frank! Looks like you hit your head real hard when you landed. Put your own lights out."

Irene grimaced, moving to sit up. "Shit," she swore, touching the back of her head and feeling her fingers grow sticky with blood. The bear. She looked around frantically, spotting the creature slumped beside her with an arrow clean through its eye socket.

Arthur seemed to notice her distress, placing a well-meaning hand on her shoulder. "Easy now, boah. It's okay. You were lucky today, I s'pose." That hand traveled up the back of her neck, the man indelicately tipping her head forward and then whistling as he examined the wound on the back of it. "Damn, you'll have a hell of a scar. Looks like it's already stopped bleedin', though."

"How did you...where did you even come from?" Irene asked in confusion.

The man nodded in the direction of a large, grassy knoll to the west of their current location, adjusting himself absentmindedly in his pants when he settled back onto his haunches. Irene still had yet to maneuver that particular tic into her 'masculine' repertoire. She struggled enough with the spitting in public, and the last thing she wanted was to be labeled a pervert or a degenerate simply on account of her adjustments being 'less than organic'. "I didn't notice you was down here until the bear did, I'm pretty sure." He remarked. "Think you startled him as much as he startled you. You foragin' for berries?"

"Yes, I...I was thinking about treats and parties and I'm afraid I wasn't paying attention." Irene admitted, her face going a little red. Whether from the frank thoughts of adjusting or the shame of being caught unawares, she was uncertain.

"Blackberry pie, right?" Arthur hummed, obviously sympathizing with her distraction. "Means summer's really here. You bake things like that?" He rummaged in his satchel without waiting for a reply, pulling out a bandanna and two bottles. One bottle she recognized as whiskey, but the other was much smaller and made of a greenish glass. "You're gonna' want this to take the edge off." Arthur informed her calmly, pressing the bottle of whiskey into her hand and then uncorking the small bottle with his teeth.

"Edge?" She asked, wary now.

"Eeyup. Take a swig and I'll get started on this."

This was, apparently, cleaning and dressing the wound on the back of her head. Which, incidentally, the lone slug of whiskey she drank did nothing for. She didn't dare consume any more than that, however. Wine in the drawing room was one thing, but whiskey out in the berry patch was a horse of a different color. Arthur was at least capable, if a little more ruthless than the average physician. She had endured worse.

"You're a real lucky boah, Frank. Ain't deep enough to need stitchin'."

"I do feel immensely lucky today." Irene replied dryly, "a dead bear at my feet, a stomach full of fresh blackberries and a bottle of whiskey in my hand. Tell me, how could my life get any better than this?" She cringed in pain but the sensation quickly dulled in the wake of Arthur's gravelly chuckle.

"Gotta' say, you did a damn fine job of distractin' that bear. Let me get the easiest shot I've ever taken." He remarked conversationally after several minutes of silence.

"Mister Arthur, should I ask what it is that you're daubing all over the back of my head? Or is that a fool's errand?"

"What, this? Some uh…" he paused, flipping the bottle over and squinting at the label. "Ginseng and yarrow. Ol' Hosea swears by it and he's been alive longer n' most."

Irene relaxed slightly. The combination didn't sound too sinister, though she was unfamiliar with herbal medicine that wasn't refined tinctures. This was more of a paste than anything, Arthur constantly stopping to coax a bit more of it down the neck of the bottle. "Well, I'm very grateful, Mister Arthur. You don't have to-"

"I know." Arthur interrupted her. "You ain't beholden to me or anythin', don't fret. Though if you'd like to stick around an' help me butcher up that bear, I wouldn't say no."

"Are you still hunting for a small army?"

Arthur sounded rueful when he replied, "feels like there's more of 'em every damn day. I'll be takin' this kill into town. The women want the essentials, their flour and sugar and such." He grumbled, "dunno' why they need so damn much flour."

"Well, how else will they make pies?" Irene pointed out.

"Huh. S'pose you're right." Arthur said after a moment, seeming surprised. "Guess I never grew out the phase of thinkin' pies an' cakes just show up fresh on windowsills."

Cleanly skinning and butchering the good-sized bear was a long and arduous process, even with two sets of hands working on the task. Bluster had reemerged from the woods after a time and now grazed peacefully alongside Arthur's mare, that appaloosa from before who had since shed her winter coat.

Arthur finally sat back on his haunches, wiping the sweat off his forehead and accidentally leaving a rusty red trail of blood in its wake. "Welp, I dunno' about you, Mister Frank. But I could certainly do with a wash-up and a meal." He had taken his hat off while they worked, his tawny, sun-streaked hair curling around his ears and sticking out at odd angles from the sweat. "Join me for supper, won't you?" He requested, hooking a thumb over his shoulder at the stream that flowed in a gully past the knoll. "Ain't nobody can chide me about takin' the best bits of the critter if nobody knows." He continued with a smirk. "Can I trust you not to rat me out, Frank?"

Irene hesitated. She was hungry and tired from the long day. Arthur didn't seem all that dangerous. Or rather, he obviously was, but in a way that was honest and blunt. "Absolutely." She replied firmly. "Your secret is safe with me, Mister Arthur."

"Now, I am gonna' ask for a handful or two of them berries you got." Arthur carried on as he got to his feet, extending a hand to help her up. "As rec...recompense and such."

Irene sighed dramatically. "Ah, I should have known no good deed goes unpunished. And here I thought that offering myself up as unwitting bait was more than enough to justify a mouthful or two of meat."

Arthur's laugh was raucous, the large man clapping her on the back hard enough to make her stumble. "You're a good man, Frank."

"Nowhere near as good as you, Arthur." She retorted with a grin, confused by the way his face darkened.

"'Fraid I'd never be able to claim that title, Frank." Arthur said quietly, the mirth gone from his expression. "Beardless youth like yourself ain't oughta' cast me in any sort of decent light. I ain't a good person."

"Hey, what was it you said when you freed me up from that trap? 'Too many folk in this world only help other people on account of gettin' somethin' in return', right?" Irene reminded him, trying to mimic his deep, honeyed drawl. She must have done a poor job, because Arthur cracked a reluctant smile. "You've helped me twice, now! Surely that warrants a smattering of decent light, wouldn't you agree?"

"Aw hell, Frank, I just don't want you developin' any lofty notions about my character is all! Don't want you gettin' your hopes dashed." Arthur protested. "I ain't no saint or role model or anythin' like that."

"Don't worry about my preconceptions, Mister Arthur. I don't view you as a role model at all." Irene wanted to laugh at how crestfallen he looked, despite his big talk. She splashed water on her hands, scrubbing at the blood on them with some of the sand from the riverbed. "I view you as a friend. A friend with flaws and drawbacks just like myself. Just like all human beings have." She elaborated, startled when Arthur crouched beside her on the riverbank and put a hand on her shoulder.

"Thank you." The man said sincerely, his blue eyes warm and bright. "That means a whole lot to me, Mister Frank. I'd like to count you as a friend myself, if I could."

Irene forgot her tongue for a moment, ensnared by the blatantly hopeful look he was giving her. He must have any woman within fifty miles of here falling head over heels for him! "You'll have a remarkably difficult time trying to get rid of me, Mister Arthur. I'm very persistent." She finally managed to respond. "Like a mangy mutt once you feed it some table scraps."

"I reckon it's settled then." Arthur's smile had returned, and Irene found herself oddly pleased that she had been the one to bring it back.

...

They camped there under the stars that night.

Arthur planned to head into town the following day, where he would sell off the bear and then assist in the last few steps of the house building. But for now, he occupied himself with creating a roast fit for a king. Irene watched curiously as he studded the whole cut with herbs, finally daring to ask him a few questions about cooking. He obliged her with answers graciously and freely. Despite his opinionated stance on baking, he obviously had no such reservations when it came to cooking.

"I'm always afraid my ignorance of plants will get me into serious trouble. Lord only knows how many poisonous things I could consume if left to my own devices." Irene admitted, certain that he must think her foolish.

Arthur rummaged around in his satchel and pulled out a worn leather-bound journal. He tossed her the notebook, chuckling lowly when she nearly fumbled it. "I sketch a fair amount, look at the last pages. Check the margins for whether it's edible or not."

When she tugged loose the strap that held the journal closed and obediently cracked it open to the last few pages, Irene was flabbergasted. Sprawled across the pages were both detailed drawings and fleeting sketches of various plants and animals. "Arthur," she said, her voice breaking as she nearly forgot to pitch it lower. The older man glanced up at her, his brow furrowed. "These are incredible."

"What is?" Arthur asked in confusion. It abruptly seemed to dawn on him and he grinned sheepishly, shaking his head. "Oh, my l'il drawin's? They're just somethin' to pass the time, mostly. Done 'em ever since I was a kid."

"They're amazing!" Irene praised, making sure her hands were clean and free of grease before she even dared to hover her fingertips over the sketched snout of a border collie. "You actually capture the motion of the creature, which is a rare talent. I've seen a lot of art in my day, Mister Arthur, but few pieces have the same amount of life in them that your work displays."

"Aw shucks Frank, you're layin' it on pretty thick ain't ya'?" Arthur protested, and his face might not have been pink from just the heat of the fire. "It's nothin' special."

"Oh it absolutely is. These are...I mean all the plants are so detailed. Easily identifiable. Can you draw people and structures as well?"

Arthur took the journal back and carefully flipped through it to a few different pages, showing her that his skill extended to more than just plants and animals. An oil derrick sketched proud and tall against the blank-page sky, a blind man who he had come across in his travels, a two-page spread of a small camp titled Horseshoe Overlook... "Like I said, though, ain't nothin' special." He finished firmly, tucking the sketchbook back into his satchel.

"You ought to make a book!" Irene suggested. "For those of us ingrates that wouldn't know oregano from our elbow."

"Me? A book?" Arthur scoffed at the idea. "Last thing I want is more attention."

"Well...you could do it under a pseudonym!"

"A what? Listen here, Frank, I ain't no good Christian man, but I ain't about to pseudo...seedo...look, I ain't doin' nothin' to nobody's nims, alright?" Arthur sounded absolutely scandalised.

"Arthur, a pseudonym is just a fake name." Irene explained.

"Oh. Oh. Shit. Well I knew that." Arthur blustered at her, huffing out a breath. "Just...makin' sure you knew, is all!"

"Of course." Irene got to her feet, dusting herself off. "So. He can cook, he can draw, he can hunt…" she trailed off, doing her best to keep her tone light as Arthur continued to mumble in a flustered manner and fidget with the brim of his hat. "Is there anything you can't do, Mister Arthur?"

His laugh in reply was devoid of humor, a bitter noise. "Sure. Can't seem to stay out of trouble. More accurately though, can't seem to avoid gettin' dragged into trouble."

Irene squatted beside him next to the fire, debating giving his shoulder a rough shove of comradery. But the concern of accidentally knocking him over into the embers was enough to make her gentle her touch to a light pat. "I'm sorry to hear that, Arthur." She said quietly.

"Ah, don't pay me no mind, Frank. I'm just bellyachin'." Arthur placed his hand over hers absently, like it was an instinctive response. "You're a good kid. Don't get yourself tangled up in someone else's woes like I have, you understand me?" He admonished her sternly.

"I'm hardly a child, Mister Arthur." Irene protested. "I am nearly twenty-seven."

"What, without a lick of facial hair and your voice still shatterin'?" He teased, grazing her bare jaw with a large hand. "Naw, you ain't. But it's okay, your secret's safe with me."

"Arthur." Irene grabbed his hand, staring him down. She wasn't sure why this of all things was what she was caught up on. Maybe it was the notion that he believed she, or rather, Frank, was some fool stripling that had just been lucky so far. "I'm not a child."

Arthur stared at her, and for a split-second Irene was certain she had sold herself out. But then the older man abruptly guffawed, clapping her on the back. "No, I s'pose you ain't. You got old steel in them eyes of yours, Frank. Seen too much for your time on this earth, I imagine."

...

The final day had come at long last.

Irene hurried to help finish the last few clapboards for the outside of the house, nearly crushing her thumb with the hammer in her haste.

Various men and women from Valentine proper had already started to gather in the yard. Tables were being shuffled together, delicious smells coming from the freshly-christened firepit. Spirits were high and laughter was loud in the sunshine of midday, and Irene couldn't help her smile as she looked around.

It was truly a marvelous thing to be a part of a community that willingly accepted anyone who would help, regardless of their past transgressions. She felt utterly at peace here, even in the midst of such organized chaos.

A heavy arm landed around her shoulders and she felt a hand nearly shove the hat clean off her head. "There he is!" Arthur announced gladly, making her laugh. "It's finally time for the fun! You gonna' be stickin' around this evenin'?"

"Maybe." Irene allowed, letting him haul her into his side with his grip on her shoulders. Arthur didn't seem to actually know just how strong he was, which strangely enough made her feel safer around him. "And you, Arthur?"

"I wouldn't miss it!" The man replied, his voice bright with excitement. "Been too long since there was a reason to celebrate. Was a hard winter. Folks need this shit."

"Absolutely." Irene ducked out from beneath his arm and straightened her hat. "I'll see you later, Arthur. Gotta' go get washed up!"

Valentine was barely a five minute walk down the road, but impatience ate away at her and she broke into a jog. She'd hatched a plan for tonight. A foolhardy, stupid plan. She still had no clear idea why she was doing this, even as she sauntered up the steps to the Valentine hotel.

Irene slapped her money down on the counter, paying up front for a bath and a room for the night. Her spurs rattled loudly while she made her way up the stairs, nerves building in her throat like frantic bird wings beating away just beneath the skin.

It had been a short eternity since she had even seen herself in a looking glass, much less worn a dress.

The dress itself was nothing like the elaborate ones she had worn during her marriage. It was a plain fawn-brown color, lacking in lace trim or cumbersome whale bone buttons. A dress for this new life she had made, one that she could don and doff unaided.

Once she had scrubbed herself pink with the provided tub of hot bathwater and lye soap that threatened to be iris-scented, of all things, Irene stepped into the dress and slowly buttoned the tiny buttons that ran the length of the front. Thankfully, the cut was modest enough that she wouldn't need a fichu to cover up with.

She had been avoiding looking at herself in the mirror until she absolutely had to, and when she finally did gather her courage she was shocked by what met her gaze. She looked older, of course, a bit more weathered, but she looked alive. She had haunted her husband's house like a ghost, gaunt and battered and seen not heard. Now though, her eyes were clear and her cheeks were pink even without pinching, a byproduct of the fresh outdoor air. Her shoulders were freckled liberally as well, though the dress hid them well enough with its high neckline and long sleeves. Her mother had always tried to dull her freckles out with those blasted rose tea treatments and lemon, but the spots had stubbornly persisted.

Her hair though…

She grimaced, raking her fingers through the sun-lightened corkscrews that bounced and sprang back around her ears. It seemed that, as usual, her hair would be hopelessly unmanageable. Mercifully, since she always wore a hat, at least her hair wouldn't be the thing to give her away. Wonder of all wonders, it did appear that there was some auburn mixed in with the brown.

Irene emerged from her room, locking the door securely behind her and tucking the key into her pocket. She paused to straighten out her skirts, smiling a little dumbly downwards at the pleats while she swished back and forth in a brief moment of indulgence. However, no sooner had she stopped to do so than a large body in a hurry nearly toppled her over. She heard a startled grunt as the person managed to catch her, and then a familiar voice apologized, "sorry ma'am! 'Fraid I'm like a bull in a china shop sometimes."

Arthur, it was Arthur. Oh Lord. Irene stared at his boots in an effort to buy herself time to collect her thoughts, noticing dimly that he too had bathed and clearly attempted to tidy himself up. Did she come clean right now? Confess that she wasn't Frank at all, but Irene? Lord, this whole plan was stupid! What had she been thinking?! "Oh no sir, I should be the one apologizing. I was so excited for the festivities I appear to have forgotten my sensibilities." Her voice was soft and she looked up at him through her lashes, wondering whether he would even recognize her without a layer of grime on her face. "Forgive my inattention, won't you?"

Arthur, for some reason, swallowed hard. "Well, ain't you just as pleasant as punch! You must be from outta' town. My name's Arthur, ma'am, and it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance." He gave her a little half-bow and Irene barely contained her relief at his blatant unfamiliarity with her. Obviously she needn't have worried.

"My name is Irene, Mister Arthur, and trust me, the pleasure is all mine." She replied, automatically accepting the hand he offered. "Are you looking forward to the party as well?"

"Oh sure, Miss Irene." That drawl lingered sinfully on the syllables of her Christian name and Irene felt herself blush. "It's a rough life out here, only makes sense for folks to take what joy they can find where they can find it." Arthur glanced down at her, his smile a bit melancholy. "House raisin's hard work, but it's less tedious if we all know there's somethin' lighthearted waitin' at the end. Good food, good company…" He trailed off, clearing his throat.

"Of that, I'm certain!" Irene dared to continue holding his arm once they reached the street, and Arthur made no move to dislodge her. "Do you think there will be dancing, Mister Arthur?"

He chuckled at her obvious excitement. "I s'pose there might be. I'm not much one for dancin', though."

"Well," Irene said boldly, "I would be just delighted if I could steal a dance with you at some point this evening."

Arthur's eyebrows shot up to his golden-brown hairline. "You sure you got the right feller, ma'am?"

"Of course! Please Arthur, won't you save me a dance?" She implored sweetly.

Arthur sighed, shaking his head. "Alright, which one of 'em put you up to this? It was Karen, weren't it. Woman won't stop interferin' in my personal affairs." He growled, "I ain't lookin' for pity, Miss Irene."

"What?" Irene asked in confusion. "No, I haven't been put up to anything. I...I simply wanted a dance. Have I offended you, Mister Arthur?" This could be an irreparable blunder! Her plan might be in shambles.

"Aw hell, now I feel like a fool." Arthur rubbed a hand over the back of his neck sheepishly. "Pardon my suspicion, Miss Irene. I'm used to bein' passed over is all." He mumbled.

"What?" Irene gasped theatrically, loving the way his laughter rumbled in his chest. "A fine man such as yourself, passed over? That's deplorable, Mister Arthur!"

"Shucks ma'am, I'm passable decent, but I don't know if I'd ever call myself fine." Arthur smiled, his face a bright, endearing pink. Oh, complimenting him elicited the sweetest results! Irene was enraptured.

"Would you accompany me along the path to the festivities, Mister Arthur? I'm afraid I have no chaperone this evening." She implored. It was so strange, sliding easily back into being able to make polite conversation or clinging to an arm with rapt attention while a man spoke. She supposed all those etiquette lessons had done her some good. At least with Arthur she didn't have to feign her attention.

He nodded, swallowing hard again. "Sure, I can do that, Miss Irene."

"Oh!" Irene said suddenly like a thought had just occurred to her, the young woman making a move to pull away. "I apologize, Mister Arthur. It is so presumptive of me to monopolize your time. Did I interrupt you on your way to the Mrs. Arthur? Or perhaps a tryst with your beloved? I'm afraid I've always been rather self-absorbed, do forgive me."

He chuckled sadly, shaking his head. "Ma'am, there's no need for all that." He said, patting her arm in a way that he probably believed was soothing. Irene barely refrained from laughing at the knowledge that he calmed people like he calmed his horse. "All I'm headin' for tonight is some merriment with the local folk." He paused, still patting her hand absently. "Y'know, I think you'd get on real well with a friend of mine by the name of Frank." Arthur remarked, appearing oblivious to the way she froze. "He's got some real hellfirin' opinions and a noble heart. Nothin' like me at all, a genuine, sweet boah. Outspoken, but kinda' shy 'round lots of folks. If we stumble across him, I'll introduce you."

"Oh I very much doubt that we'll see him tonight." Irene muttered under her breath to herself, a little puffed up by the praise Arthur had inadvertently lavished upon her.

…

There was indeed food and drink, and Irene found herself in the midst of conversation more often than not. It was incredibly amusing to know that all she needed to do was wash the dirt off her face and don a dress to make 'Frank' disappear into the ether. But again, that had been the whole point.

The musicians were tuning up when she noticed something odd. There was an unmanned violin (or fiddle, perhaps), sitting forlorn and silent on the front steps. Irene straightened out her dress and made her way carefully over to the stairs. "Pardon me, sirs," she called cheerfully. "but where is your violinist?"

"Ah, I'm sorry ma'am, but ol' Jefferson died durin' the winter." The guitarist informed her, looking a touch morose. "Figured we'd bring out his Hyde so it could at least listen to all the hubbub. Be a shame to leave it to gather dust."

"My deepest condolences." Irene murmured, going to turn away and then biting her lip as she paused. "Sirs, I...perhaps I could be of assistance? I have...some prior experience with violin." Nobody needed to know about the years spent learning, and the few bright moments in her marriage being her improvising quick, jaunty tunes alone in the drawing room. Leaving the instrument behind had been like leaving a piece of her heart, but it was so delicate and fragile…

"Well if you think you can keep up, you're more n' welcome to rosin the bow ma'am." The man smiled, gesturing at the fiddle. "It would do it some good to be played again, I'll wager."

Irene was scooping up the instrument almost before he had finished speaking, immensely pleased to find out that it was relatively in tune. The man that she assumed would be the step caller graciously handed her a handkerchief to pad her cheek when she tucked the violin into place, and Irene spent several minutes hurriedly tightening and rosining up the bow.

The first draw emitted a note that was clear, if a bit flat. Irene grinned sheepishly, fidgeting with the tuning pegs and then trying again. Ah, there it was. The instrument had a beautifully rich voice, no doubt facilitated by the stockier body it bore.

"Ladies and gentlemen, finish up your food! It's time for the real fun to begin!" The caller announced over the buzz of the populace. Tables began to move out of the way, clearing the front yard.

"I see you're the fiddler this evenin'?" Irene started at the sound of Arthur's voice. She had lost track of him shortly after arriving to the party, the man apologizing to her even while he was getting dragged off by a dark-haired woman in a beautiful green dress. Now, he reclined against the railing, his eyes troubled but smile firmly in place.

"Hopefully, if the good Lord is merciful. It has been quite a while." Irene admitted. "I'd still very much like that dance, Arthur, if your other beaus don't keep you occupied." She jibed. Perhaps it was a bit bold for a woman to comment on an older man's pursuits, but she did feel that she could get away with a touch of good-natured ribbing.

"Welp," Arthur drawled, doffing his hat. "I s'pose we'll just have to see how the night goes, Miss Irene. I wouldn't call 'em beaus though. Just folks that want somethin' from me."

Irene tilted her head to the side, but Arthur managed to avoid her gaze. Following his line of sight, she noticed he appeared to be watching the dark-haired woman from earlier. "Who is your friend? I must know her seamstress, Mister Arthur, because that dress is lovely."

"Mary." Arthur muttered, the name sounding like it was dragged out of him. "Uh, that is, the widow Linton."

"Oh no, the poor thing." Irene said sadly, meaning every word. There had been a time in her life where she had been utterly devoted to her fiance, believing that she had truly loved him. She could not begrudge anyone their own happiness, as wary as she had been made from her past experience. As the saying went, 'see how the bear behaves in its den before you decide to live with it.'

"Eeyup, real shame. Pneumonia got him." Arthur informed her curtly.

Irene was sure her sympathy was evident on her face, because Arthur's sharp blue eyes had softened slightly when he looked back at her. Pneumonia was so sinister in its onset, the way it settled into the chest and by the time most patients realized it wasn't a cold, they were too far gone to help. "You should ask her to dance! Get her mind off of things." She suggested.

Arthur chuffed out a breath in a manner that was so similar to his horse Irene had to chew her lower lip to stave off her laughter. "Nope." He said firmly. "Mary shall not dance with me, Miss Irene. Not if I have anythin' to say about it. I doubt I'll dance much at all, honestly."

…

Arthur appeared to be sticking to his word throughout the night. He was indeed not much for dancing, but as he drank he got progressively more mobile. It was like his body loosened up, he smiled more, laughed louder…

He seemed absolutely thrilled when she found him later that evening, saying plainly, "There she is! I figured you forgot about me!"

Irene shook her head, smiling up at him. She had politely declined her way across nearly the entire yard in order to reach him. "I don't think I ever could, Mister Arthur. May I ask for a dance?"

"Obliged to oblige, ma'am." Arthur extended a hand, drawing her in almost indecently close. "That was some fine music you played earlier." He drawled after a moment.

Irene simply let herself be swayed back and forth, one hand on his shoulder and the other still entwined with his own. "Thank you." She replied softly. "It has been a while since I was able to indulge myself."

"Fiddlin' ain't a vice, ma'am." Arthur protested.

Irene chuckled. "Some might disagree, Mister Arthur."

"Well, they're wrong. How the hell could music be bad for someone?" He removed his hand from her hip to wave over at the group of men who were still currently playing away. "Music's good for the soul. Makes everythin' lighter. What miserable fools have you had to deal with?" Arthur grumbled.

Irene rolled her eyes comically. "Lord, you don't know the half of it!"

Arthur pressed her even tighter to his body, his breath hot over her ear when he murmured, "well Irene, they're dead wrong."

"Mister Arthur…" Irene went bright red at his proximity, at the heat that flooded her. What a strange sensation! Even back when she had been newly betrothed, before she had known her then-fiancé's cruelty, she had never experienced such a fierce reaction from a simple close whisper. Was it only to be chalked up to the newness of the experience? Or was it because it was Arthur doing it?

"Irene, I hope I ain't bein' too forward when I...would you like to…" Arthur trailed off, clearing his throat. "I mean, I ain't got anythin' to offer you aside from a good time," he continued to hem and haw. "You seem like a genuine lady and I...someone like me ain't never really been allowed to touch that sort of person. I sleep under the stars and drink too much for anyone's good, never mind my own." His eyes met her own and a slow, almost forlorn smile played across his mouth.

Despite the ribald impropriety of his words he looked so utterly tender, his hat slightly tilted and his eyes drowsily gentle. Irene found herself nodding before he even managed to actually ask her. "I have a room for the night, Mister Arthur. I am…" she hesitated. "Not...very experienced, but not inexperienced."

"Thank God." Arthur replied, surprising her. "You wouldn't want someone like me for somethin' like your first time."

"Oh?" Clearly, they had careened past the point of polite or appropriate conversation. But now, she was curious. "Why is that, Mister Arthur?"

He coughed, fidgeting with the brim of his hat. "I'm just...I'm not...fit for that sorta' thing. Not worth it. Fine ladies deserve a proper gentleman an' I ain't that." He stated.

"Arthur…" Irene took his hands and tugged on them, leading him out of the yard and towards the roadside. "You're more of a gentleman than most, I can promise you that." She insisted.

"Miss Irene, wait!" The sound of her name being yelled made her pause, and Irene found herself abruptly confronted with the step caller as he thrust the fiddle's sturdy case at her. "Me and the boys, we got to talkin'. We figure you ought to keep the old Hyde, as a thank you of sorts." He said, sweeping his hat off his head. "Besides, if you leave it here it'll never be played. And there's nothin' worse than an unplayed fiddle. Believe me, I would know!"

"I…" Irene wanted to burst into tears. This was so unexpected and kind. The case settled into her arms, like an old friend already. "B-But I have no way to-"

"Not for money ma'am. Simply for liftin' folks' spirits tonight. You take that Hyde and you spread that gift of yours around."

"Thank you." Irene said sincerely, "I...you have no idea how much this means to me, sir."

"Mighty kind of you fellers." Arthur added, his grin a little sheepish when the caller turned his attention on him to express his thanks for Arthur's help in acquiring the remaining lumber for the house. He tried to wave off the praise to no avail, looking increasingly awkward the longer he was subjected to the step caller's enthusiasm.

The woman from earlier (Irene wracked her brain for a moment before remembering Mary, Mary) approached on Arthur's opposite side while he was preoccupied with the step caller. However, she didn't miss the way Arthur's posture went tight as he noticed Mary standing there expectantly. Arthur suddenly seized Irene's hand, muttered a curt, "obliged," to the step caller and set off at a brisk pace down the road.

"Don't forget that you promised, Arthur Morgan!" The widow Linton called after him, her voice sharp. Arthur just waved a dismissive hand in her general direction.

Irene struggled to keep up even after Arthur scooped the case out of her arms, the man's longer legs easily outstripping her own. "Arthur, can you slow down?" She implored, a little fearful now. He looked like he was stewing, his shoulders squared against some invisible adversary.

Arthur obliged her in silence. He maintained that silence until they reached the outskirts of town, where he clarified, "you had a room, right?"

"Yes, I...yes. For the night." Irene answered softly. Arthur just nodded in reply. "Arthur, you don't-"

"I ain't gonna' hurt you." He cut her off. "You have my word, Miss Irene. Ain't got nothin' to fear from me."

Irene was still more than a touch anxious as they ascended the stairs, and she almost dropped the key, fumbling to get it into the lock. Arthur hummed low in his throat, that comforting horse pat landing on her arm again and soothing her enough that she managed to get the door open.

Arthur carefully set the case against the wall, and then he was on her. He kissed hungrily, his whole body pressed to hers before the door was even fully shut behind them. His tongue plunged into her mouth without so much as a warning or a by your leave. Irene had only read about this kind of kissing and experiencing it firsthand was composure-shattering. She found herself weak at the knees, grateful for the weight of Arthur's large form to anchor herself as he boldly coaxed her tongue to reply.

Irene shyly licked into his mouth, making a soft noise that had Arthur shuddering and offering his own groan in response. He pulled away, slow, like he was being dragged, and struggled to bring her with him.

The man sat down hard on the bed, urging her close in between his spread legs. Then, Arthur grabbed two handfuls of the back of her dress and rested his forehead on the spot directly beneath her breasts.

Irene froze, confused until she felt his shoulders tremble.

He was crying, like his heart was fit to break. Deep, shuddering sobs that came from somewhere by the floorboards and ravaged his entire body on the way up. Hesitantly, Irene carded her fingers through his hair, cradling the back of his head. She could feel the tears seeping into the fabric of her dress, slowly dampening the material.

"It's just never enough." Arthur finally said thickly. He stayed where he was, wearily slurring into her abdomen, "I give an' I give an' I do an' it's just...never enough to make folks happy."

"Arthur..." Irene whispered. She felt silly for not noticing sooner than something was very wrong, guilt rushing her as she realized that she had been so caught up in him giving her attention that she must have missed the signs.

"It's never enough that I'm just there, still alive, still willin', even though I'm a damn fool. Never enough." He mumbled, "God, I'm a fool."

"No you're not." Irene said firmly. Arthur looked up at her. "You're brave, you're loyal and you're kind, Arthur. It's not your fault that the people around you seem to have taken those traits for granted."

"We was plannin' to be married, y'know. Me an'...me an' Mary." He confessed abruptly, not that he needed to. "Or maybe it was just me plannin'. She...I just don't know."

"What happened? Did she call it off?"

"Her daddy, he didn't approve of me. I didn't have...enough," Arthur explained, his words stilted as he recounted probably more than he meant to. "I was orphaned pretty early on and I...well shit, I hung around with folks bad and good an' to Mr. Gillis, that was worth a condemnation. Forbade it. Said I was filthy, that I'd c'rupt...corrupt her. Ruin her. Break her with these turrible hands of mine." The hands in question gripped Irene's dress even tighter and he fought back a sob. "So I...I had to let her go. Watched her fall in love with some rich feller and it made me wonder, made me scared that she ain't never loved me at all. And then tonight..." He shook his head.

"What about tonight, Arthur?" Irene prompted him gently.

"She come to me askin' for a damn favor. After everythin' that's happened, she still had the damn gall to ask me for shit. Her little brother's gone off to shack up with some cult ." Arthur cleared his throat. "So I'm too rough to marry, but I'm sure as hell good enough to ask to rescue her precious baby brother. She said she thinks of me often and I just...dammit, it ain't right for her to tell me that!" He erupted, hiccupping out yet another sob. "It ain't right, I finally thought I was--I mean I was doin' okay, I was better, an' now…"

"It feels like you just hit a patch of shale and slid your way back down into the bottom of the gorge you were crawling out of."

Arthur sniffled. "Well, yeah. Kinda'. H-How'd you know?"

"You think you're the only person in the world to have troubles with people you were trying to recover from?" Irene's laugh was soft and sad. "My situation is a bit different, but no less weighty for it, Mister Arthur."

Arthur huffed out a breath, rubbing his forehead back and forth on her stomach. "I just hate myself. Can't hate her, all I can do is hate m'self." He sighed.

"Don't." Irene admonished him, trawling her fingers through his thick hair and dragging his head back with the motion. Arthur groaned again, this time lower, his eyes half-lidding as he appeared to enjoy being ministered to. "Don't hate yourself for being kind, Arthur, and don't let the world beat that kindness out of you. There are people, so many people who will love you for it. Hell, there's probably some that already do."

Blue eyes blinked open sluggishly, still glassy with tears as he looked up at her. Liquor-honest words tumbled from his lips, "why the hell are you bein' so nice to me? Led you up here for a reason an' now I'm all a mess about another woman." He shook his head, not waiting for a response before continuing, "I just wanna' sleep. Forget about all of this. I...lay down with me? I need...I need...somethin' to hang onto." He mumbled, tugging at the back of her skirt. "Clothes on is fine. Just need to hold you. Few minutes, even." He pleaded.

Irene bit her lip uncertainly. Laying down fully-clothed? It seemed a bit strange. But she didn't have on a corset, so at least she wouldn't be uncomfortable… "Alright." She agreed softly after a moment, reaching down to unlace her boots. Hopefully Arthur was too inebriated to notice that 'her' boots were also Frank's boots. He seemed more than a few sheets to the wind, if his weeping was anything to judge by.

Arthur clumsily kicked off his own boots and laid on his side, catching her arm to guide her down with her back to his chest. It was somewhat awkward at first; Irene had never actually been held in such a manner and the bed was incredibly small. She knew she was probably too stiff, and slowly urged her shoulders to loosen a bit. Arthur draped his arm over her hips, not even holding her so much as he was simply laying his hand on her stomach.

"Thank you." He mumbled into the back of her neck, still sniffling a little.

Irene tentatively placed her hand over his own, lacing her fingers through his. "Shh, sleep. You'll feel better in the morning, Arthur." She whispered. Then, so quiet she wasn't sure he would even hear her, "thank you, Arthur. For everything."

Part Two: Friends

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