#i love offering up my selfish writing projects and hearing that people have enjoyed | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

whosscruffylooking · 3 years

Text

The Purest Things-Damaged

Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Warnings: Mentions of rape, murder, and cheating. Canon-typical violence.

Word Count: 3.7k

A/N: and so we begin our descent into the world of slow-burn! this piece begins at the end of season 3 episode 13 & carries into seasons 3 episode 14. thank you to everyone who has interacted with my stories, commenting and reposting helps creators so much! enjoy this installment :)

The Purest Things Masterlist

Gif Credit: @hqtchner

january 2008

Bookend: “We are all damaged. We have all been hurt. We have all had to learn painful lessons. We are all recovering from some mistake, loss, betrayal, abuse, injustice or misfortune. All of life is a process of recovery that never ends. We each must find ways to accept and move through the pain and to pick ourselves back up....Each tragedy is an announcement that some good will indeed come in time. Be patient with yourself.” ― Bryant McGill

Another day, another murderer locked away. This case proved that sometimes, the so-called "good guys" can be just as selfish as the "bad guys." The special agent who recruited the BAU's help, Jill Morris, used this case to obtain personal fame and grow her career.

You sit next to Rossi aboard the plane. He had a more personal interaction with Morris throughout the case, and you can tell her actions have left him more than disappointed.

Looking out the window at the sun setting behind the clouds, you mumble to yourself, "What's the difference?"

"Did you say something?" Dave speaks up.

Looking to him, you brush it off, "Oh. Nothing. I was just talking to myself."

He crosses his legs and smiles a warm smile at you, "Penny, for your thoughts then."

"I guess...I just don't understand how Jill Morris's motives can be any different from Jeremy Andrus's. Of course, Jill didn't murder or rape anyone. But, she exploited this case for her own personal benefit. She didn't just use the unsub; she exploited the victims as well. How is that any different than Jeremy using women for his own gratification?"

David sighs, "Aristotle said, 'Every practical pursuit or undertaking seems to aim at some good.' Our brains are wired for love and solidarity. Greed forms to undermine that wiring and trick others into believing that their means to an end is done for "good." People believe that to maintain that myth, any and all costs to others are simply casualties in the long run."

"There is all the difference in the world between helping another soul and exploiting their hardship for your own gain and deceiving yourself that they are the same," he continues, "I tried to show Jill that. But, I think she's already determined that the reason she does this job is not for the same reasons that we do. The rush of catching a suspect comes second to the excitement she gets when being praised for her achievement."

"What happened to her empathy," you wonder, "Empathy is a natural foundation in each of our lives, and our society functions on it! How could that not overpower her desire for recognition? I mean, for Christ's sake, her friend just died!"

"Unfortunately," he solemnly says, "It is harder to understand the motives of our peers than it is to profile a serial killer."

+++++

You wake as if there is an emergency, like sleeping had become a deadly thing, your heart pounds, and thoughts jumble throughout your brain. Shooting up from your seat, you crawl over a sleeping Rossi and stumble your way to the bathroom.

Your knuckles turn white as you grip the edge of the sink. Looking cautiously into the mirror, as if you are uncertain of what you'll see, you take in your ghostly appearance. Sweat beads drip down your forehead. Unable to comprehend the blurry remnants of your dream, you turn on the faucet and splash your face with cold water.

Upon exiting the bathroom, you notice everyone is sound asleep. Thank goodness no one noticed your state of panic. You notice that one overhead reading light is on and look to see Hotch awake and blankly staring out the window.

"Can't sleep either?" You ask, sitting across from him.

"Are you alright?" He asks, trying to deflect your attention.

You squint at him, unwilling to back down, "Are you?"

He looks at you intently, taking the sight of you in inch-by-inch. No one has asked him that over the past few weeks. In fact, everyone has seemingly been avoiding him since he was served his divorce papers. Perhaps they are doing it because they are unsure how to support him or genuinely feel that what he needs right now is space.

However, you know that being alone is the last thing he needs right now. "Hotch, I know it isn't my place, and I--I'm sorry if this is overstepping. But that expression on your face that you've worn for the past few weeks isn't foreign to me. Perhaps to everyone else, it is. They don't know what to do or say. You're their unit chief, and they are used to you being strong and keeping it together for the sake of everyone else."

He straightens his posture, his attention centered on you.

"I witnessed firsthand the ways that divorce can torment people. My parents got a sudden divorce when I was 14. It was unexpected to all of us. My father was unfaithful, and although my mom was willing to forgive him, he didn't want to put in the work anymore. He found a new outlet for his frustrations. I watched my mother and father waste away for years," you lament.

Hotch sits on the edge of his seat, his eyes trained keenly on you. It was odd for him to make a connection so quick, to give his trust so easily. In fact, he hardly trusts at all. Dave and Haley are the only ones who have really been given an insider's peek into the mind and heart of Aaron Hotchner. There was something in the way he listens so actively to what you are saying. You would be lying if you said you didn't notice his gaze aimed at your lips.

There is a sympathetic and heartfelt concern he shows for you, one second only to your own regard for him. He listens like he is absorbing your words. The longer you spend in each other's presence, the more you both realize that this is the kind of friendship you both have needed for far too long. Even if the words go unspoken, you share an empathetic understanding of one another, and you are sure it has been there since the day you met. Hotch has been fascinated by you since he watched your interview with Strauss over and over again, though he would never let it be known.

+++++

February 2008

Today is the day that you get to accompany Hotch and Reid on the Criminal Personality Research Project to interview Chester Hardwick before his execution. Hardwick's case is one you know inside and out. You wrote a research report on it that was awarded the Graduate Student Ethics Writing Competition winner for the American Psychological Association and was published in their Ethics and Behavior journal. Agent Hotchner suggested that you tag along, considering you know just as much about the case as Spencer does.

You and Spencer absentmindedly fiddle with the knickknacks that rest upon the desk as you wait to be escorted to see Chester Hardwick.

Hotch's phone begins to ring, and he answers it, "Yeah, J.J... Um, no, it's--It's a personal matter. Yes, thank you. I will take care of it when I get back."

"Everything okay?" You ask softly.

"Yeah, fine." He says abruptly.

"We can do this interview another time," Reid offers.

Aaron huffs, "Well, he is scheduled to be executed next week."

"I can take the lead on the interview if you w-" Reid unintentionally pushes.

You cut him off, "Reid."

Hotch shoots you an appreciative look.

Anytime sir.

"Agent Hotchner?" A relatively short man wearing freakishly petite glasses comes to the door.

The Unit Chief shakes the man's hand and introduces you and Spencer.

"You're here to see our infamous inmate Hardwick," the warden exclaims.

"Yes," you say, "He agreed to meet with us as part of our Criminal Personality Research Project before his execution."

The man smiles widely, "I've read your research on Hardwick many times. I must say, seeing your perspective on the mind of such a prolific killer was very enlightening."

You beam with pride at his commendation. Instinctively you look to Hotch, who appears to have the slight trace of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You wonder, how can he go from scowling and frustrated one minute to fighting back the urge to smile at the mention of your achievements? You bite your lip to suppress any further needless excitement.

The warden continues to ramble, "Serial killers are kind of a hobby of mine. Chester is the only one I've ever met in person, though. I bet you've met quite a few."

"Sir," Hotch interjects, "We'd very much like to get started as soon as we can."

Time to put our serious pants back on.

You can visibly see your superior's annoyance, and you stifle a chuckle.

The warden quickly composes himself and apologizes for his enthusiasm, touching his hand to Hotch's shoulder in the process. Hotch's mouth falls agape, and his sights shoot to you. A small snort escapes you, and you cover your mouth, attempting to conceal it as a cough. He squints at you as if he is mentally murdering you. You crinkle your nose at him.

Don't mentally murder me when we are about to interview one of the most prolific killers of our time.

The warden leads you into the small cell that you will convert into a makeshift interrogation room. Soon enough, you hear the clanking of chains echoing in the hallway. Everyone's eyesight is fixed on the door.

A silver-haired man dressed in a yellow jumpsuit walks in with an air of arrogance and determination. He glares at Agent Hotchner, who mirrors the prisoner's actions exactly. Hotch states that keeping the prisoner chained will not be necessary, a call that both you and Spencer are unsure of.

Hardwick sits across from you and leans into the table, "I know you."

"And I know you. Too well, I think," you respond.

A menacing grin sweeps across his face, "Oh, I like you already. How about you send these two away so the grown-ups can talk."

You can hear your boss scoff from behind you.

"Chester, it's time to get serious."

"You were born April 4, 1950?" Spencer asks.

"Does my birthday really matter?"

"It's customary for us to start at the beginning. We want to know as much as we can about your childhood," Reid continues.

"There's nothing to know. It was average. I lived in a nice house on a quiet street. I ate cereal, went to school, watched cartoons."

"I don't have time for this," Hotch raises his voice, causing you to jump slightly, "You grew up in a series of projects, each one worse than the last. You spent your teenage years peeping into your female neighbors' windows and burglarizing their underwear drawers when you got the chance. You set 100 small fires for which you spent 2 years in juvenile detention."

You glance at Reid from the corner of your eye; you are both uncomfortable with the direction Hotch is taking this.

"We've done extensive research, Mr. Hardwick," you say, gently trying to soften the blow and appeal to the man's ego. If Hotch is taking the bad cop role, you need to be this psychopath's ally.

"We've talked to almost everyone you've ever known," you continue, "including your mother."

Chester swivels on the balls of his feet, "Good ol' Jean? I'll bet she was a real treat."

"At this point, lying to us isn't really possible or helpful," Spencer offers a slight smirk to the man.

"Y/N, right?" the prisoner turns his attention to you, "They're wrong. They're all wrong."

"About what, Chester?" You implore him.

"I started a lot more than one hundred fires," he peers out the window.

You look up at Hotch, and he sighs in surrender.

Chester antagonizes you three, stating that no one care's whether or not they hear the truth. In between his jabs, he strays to various different series of thoughts. Most are meaningless, but it is his way of trying to get under your skin. For you and Spencer, it is relatively easy to maintain your composure. For Hotch, however, Hardwick's digs do nothing but add fuel to the already lit flame under the special agent.

"Let's talk about the specifics of this case, Chester," you interrupt his rant, "Why did you choose Sheila O'Neal?"

He shakes his head, "You gotta show me a picture. I don't know their names."

As if you can feel Hotch's anger radiating off of his body, you brace yourself for the oncoming strike.

"Is that what this is all about," he says disgustedly, "Some chance for you to relive all of this?"

"I have an excellent memory," Chester brags.

You tune his impassionate speech out and focus your observance on your boss. His scalding stare at Hardwick can only translate one way, 'I have initiated my emotional indifference. I could kill you and not care one bit. So proceed with caution.'

"They were toys, a diversion," you hear Hardwick chant as you tune back into the present. Hotch looks anywhere but at the killer in front of him, his gaze eventually landing you. You are some kind of shelter to him that neither of you has yet acknowledged or come to understand.

Your stomach churns at Chester's descriptions of his victims. He describes them as useless objects that, once their purpose was served, were discarded like garbage.

"Why did you ask us here?" Hotch charges.

The wicked man looks at you, his eyes void of a soul and his stare sending a chill down your veins.

"I wanted to speak to her."

Your breath catches at the back of your throat.

With that, Hotch straightens up and fervently positions himself between Chester and you. "Reid, pack it up," he commands.

Reid looks to you, "Are you sure?"

"No, now." Your superior repeats himself with even more fervor. He presses the buzzer to signal the guards to release us and says, "Have a nice trip. You're going where you belong." Hotch makes sure to put as much distance between you and Hardwick as possible. He buzzes the ringer again. No response.

"It's 5:17," Hardwick chuckles.

You close your eyes, the reality of the situation finally sinking in. Reaching out for Hotch's arm, you lower his hand from the buzzer. "The evening yard begins at 5 o'clock. No one is going to come open that door for-"

"At least thirteen minutes," Chester disrupts. He waltzes over the table and takes one of the images of his victims into his hand. Holding it up as if to brag to us about it, he says, "And it took me less than five minutes to do this."

You push aside your worry. Instead, you choose to focus on all of the information you have accumulated over the years about Chester Hardwick. There has to be something you can use to your advantage to diffuse this situation.

"Perhaps in all of your research, you should have familiarized yourselves with the guard tones," Hardwick jeers.

"I heard the tones," Hotch counters in a monotone voice.

"So you planned to be locked inside with me, with no guns or weapons."

Hotch shakes his head, his voice more natural than before, "I won't need a gun."

Spencer places his hand on your arm and begins to guide you to the other side of the room.

"There's no way I am going to be executed next week," Chester taunts, kneading his hands together. "Not after I kill three FBI agents. You saved my life by coming here." His venomous words ring in your ears.

Hotch's tone deepens, "Unfortunately for you, I am not a five-foot-one-hundred-pound girl."

Your pulse quickens at Hotch's threat, and your attention is rapt by his display of dominance. He begins to shed his jacket. You feel yourself flushing; attraction suddenly entangles you as if it were an invisible rope.

Now is the worst possible time to be feeling this. Calm down.

"All of your life, you've gone after victims who couldn't fight back," he fiercely says, "and the rest of the time you spent looking over your shoulder." You understand the intensity in his tone and sense a great deal of emotion behind his words.

He rips his tie from his collar, and your breathing hitches in the back of your throat. Hopefully, Spencer doesn't notice, and if he does, he chalks it up to the deadly situation you find yourself in.

"You were always worried about the knock on the door," Hotch doesn't back down, "Scared that somebody like me would be on the other side waiting to put you away."

Well, if you keep ripping your tie off like th--no. Not gonna go there right now. Focus on the pyshco-killer threatening to kill you.

Now, Hotch intimidatingly points his finger directly at Hardwick.

If only I were on the receiving end of tha--no! Now. Is. Not. The. Time.

"At your core, you are a coward," Hotch fires.

You have to do something. Hardwick is enraged, and Hotch has nothing left to lose.

Without even giving it a second thought, you blurt out, "Chester, do you want to know why you killed those women?"

"What?" The prisoner hisses.

Spencer speaks up, "Earlier, you said you wished you were different. We can tell you why you are...what you are."

He begins moving towards you, and out of the corner of your eye, you notice your boss carefully making equal strides. You motion for him to stop.

"You can tell me why I did what I did?"

"I think so," you nod, "Don't you, Dr. Reid?"

"I do. Your mother is bipolar. And almost certainly an undifferentiated schizophrenic. Your father suffered severe shell shock in the war, what we now refer to as Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. As far as I can tell, he remained clinically depressed the rest of his life."

"Exactly," you say, giving Spencer a chance to gather his thoughts after having thrown him under the bus.

"53% of all serial killers have some form of mental illness inherent to their families. Chester, in your case, both of your parents suffered from psychological disorders, which they essentially took out on each other as much as they beat you. So, violence sort of became a normal expression of love in your household," you say, eager to have some kind of breakthrough with him while subliminally directing Spencer's string of thoughts to follow yours.

Allowing Reid to pick up where you leave off, he takes charge of the conversation and explains how a portion of one's brain wants what it wants without conscience or judgment. A part of the brain that no doubt took over Hotch's reasoning powers moments ago, though you do not blame him.

"Earlier, you said your victims never had a chance. I think you know deep down that it was you that never really had a chance," he concludes. And with that victorious resolution, the guards unlock the door. Hotch storms out, and Reid follows behind.

"Is that true that I never had the chance?" Hardwick calls out after you both.

You stop in your tracks, "I don't know."

"Maybe," Spencer nudges you out the door.

++++

In the car, Hotch looks at you in the rearview mirror, "That was smart to get Hardwick to focus on himself long enough for the guards to come back."

You pat Spencer's shoulder, "I give all the credit to boy wonder and his beautiful statistic-filled brain. I'm sorry for all of the times I said you were running out of storage with all of that useless data."

"I find that I do some of my best work under intense terror," he declares, "Wait. Useless data? When did you say that?"

You pinch him softly and chuckle, "I'm kidding."

"I'm sorry," Hotch sighs.

You meet his gaze in the mirror once again, "For what?"

His chestnut eyes reveal pangs of remorse and guilt, but something tells you there's more to those feelings than what occurred at the prison.

"I antagonized the situation."

"No, you didn't," Spencer states.

"I certainly didn't help."

"Well, I can't argue with you there," you kid.

His piercing eyes suddenly twinkle, causing you to blush slightly. You quickly look down at your feet until your cheeks cool down.

Hotch sighs in defeat, "So Haley wants me to sign the divorce papers uncontested so that nobody wastes money on lawyers."

That statement is all too familiar to you. Yet again, your heart shatters for the Hotchners.

"You don't want to?" Spencer asks innocently.

He means well, but you know from experience that such a question only unleashes a tidal wave of painful emotions for the one fighting for his family.

"What I want, I'm not going to get," Hotch laments.

His eyes, once filled with depth, now distant and empty.

++++

Glancing up from your paperwork and into your supervisor's office, you take note of his gravity-drawn shoulders that carry the weight of the world on them. He repeatedly picks up a stack of papers and then drops them back down atop his desk, covering his face with his hands.

"What do you think is going on up there?" Derek asks, pointing his pen in the direction of the office.

"I might have an idea. I'm going to go take my report; anyone else's done?" They all hand you their paperwork for you to deliver to the boss.

You hesitate to knock on his door but apprehensively do so anyways.

He invites you in. Your heart sinks as you approach his desk, able to get a closer look at his beaten expression. You always knew he was hiding pain behind his tough exterior, but now he wears it on the surface, most likely unintentionally.

Placing the paperwork on his desk, you notice the heading on the papers he was gripping tightly.

SUPREME COURT STATE OF VIRGINIA: MARITAL SETTLEMENT AGREEMENT

Hotch's eyes move slowly, laboriously, to look at you as if it takes a concentrated effort to do so.

"Heartache is a real thing," you sympathize with him, "In fact, Reid even told me that a broken heart can show up on medical scans. When a heart breaks, your body and brain need time to recuperate. There's no set amount of time or remedy that will heal you. Don't set your expectations of yourself too high, and surround yourself with the people who love you."

His chin trembles, and his eyes flutter as he blinks back tears.

You turn to leave the room but look over your shoulder one last time, "We are all here for you, Hotch."

Just as you are about to shut the door, you hear him call out to you, "Y/L/N!"

His stare reveals a vulnerability you have had yet to see in him.

"Call me Aaron."

Tag List 🏷

@chellybear98 @destiny-tsukino @wanniiieeee @sweetiecake180 @vampiracontessa @weexinling @spaghetti-dad187 @hothskies @star-stuff-in-the-cosmos @mac99martin @clairedragonessbaker @cecemariee7302 @halloweenwithreid @megans-txmblr @theoldestguard @purpledragonturtles @chazubagi @frogrrylovebot @agentaaronhotass @obsssedwithjustaboutanything @mcntsee @ssagube @softhetixx @kenzies-mr-j @peachyotps @cat11-2 @prettylittlemoonlight @ravenmoore14 @gubs-boobs @spencerreidsoulmate

304 notes · View notes

gisachi · 3 years

Note

Hi ^^ I know that your requests are now closed but I was thinking that, given you have written jealous Shinichi, I would very much enjoy some jealous Ran! Maybe you can mix it with one of the prompts? Just throwing the idea out there, no pressure. Delete this if you don't feel like it, it's okay really. Thank you for writing these amazing fics, the shinran fandom is in your debt. ❤️

So this is the last (!!!) and longest (!!!) of the kiss prompts, and I dedicate it to multiple-requests Anon and to this Anon. I hope both of you still see this. It took me a while. ^^;;

P.S. Special thanks to @artycreaty for keeping this in check. You are awesome. 🥰

41. Kisses shared under an umbrella. 46. A lingering kiss before a long trip apart. (6,489 words)

Ran keeps telling herself she has no right to be jealous.

She has hundreds of reasons not to. They’re merely childhood best friends. Life would be much easier if she didn’t involve herself in his business twenty-four seven. Shinichi absolutely doesn’t look at her that way. And so forth.

She wonders why they’re even friends in the first place. If their parents hadn’t enrolled them in the same kindergarten, she was certain they wouldn’t even be on speaking terms. He lives in a world of grisly books and crimes, she in a world of martial and visual arts. Their hobbies don’t overlap. They excel in different fields. They enter the same university with completely unrelated majors. The only bond they have in common is their shared history. Literally bonded since they were four, until now at nineteen.

So when she sees him all jolly around his newfound circle who hold the same interest in Holmes or detective work, it shouldn’t surprise her as much. It’s part of university life, it’s normal, they expand their horizons, and Ran understands that it hits much differently when they bond with people who like the same stuff they do. Something she’s aware they cannot share a hundred percent.

She’s proud of him, and she absolutely has no right to feel jealous, especially when she sees him around taller, prettier, more interesting women from his course block. There is no reason for her to look away with a heavy weight in her chest everytime the women get giggly and touchy while he’s absorbed in narrating his stories.

Everytime she does, she reminds herself of how he didn’t seem to mind when she was casted as the protagonist of their high school play and the leading man was the handsome Araide-sensei. Or how he simply shrugged when she fawned over the brother of a classmate because he looked so much like the karate senpai she was crushing on. Or when she secretly caught Sonoko dragging the detective behind gym after P.E. to confront him about his opinion regarding an upperclassman courting Ran and his only response was, ‘She can like whoever she likes, Sonoko. I’m not her boyfriend.’

He never showed her any sign of jealousy, therefore he must not be into her. Simple as that. So it’s unfair for her to be treating him differently. Getting snarky just because he received sixteen new fan mails again, more now that they’re in uni, and two even coming from the popular criminology seniors he is often teased to? Or ignoring him unprecedentedly just because his eyes followed the back of a woman with long chestnut hair and voluptuous curves? There are plenty of fish in the sea, and he’s bound to be attracted to someone else. This is a pill she ought to learn to swallow eventually.

Eventually.

“Shinichi-kun, you never told us about your scariest case yet, tell us about it?”

Kaori closes her notes and so do the other two girls across her, and Shinichi’s eyes twinkle. He truly seems to enjoy study sessions with the little group they made consisting of some of his and Ran’s coursemates because they love listening to his stories.

“At the top of my head is this murderer disguised as a bandaged man, and he targeted us one by one…” and so the detective drones. Ran pauses typing and reminisces quietly. Ah, that one from summer three years ago. I was almost injured by that crazy man during my sleep but Shinichi woke me up in time.

“Ran-san,” Shun, her friend and coursemate, mutters beside her, also stopping his typing to listen to the detective’s story. “It’s ridiculous how popular Kudou-kun is with the girls. He’s full of wild adventures.”

“Yes, he is,” Ran says, smiling. “He’s been a girl magnet ever since high school.”

She watches as Kaori inches closer to Shinichi, listening attentively, chin on her palm and flirtatious smile on her lips as the detective rants on and on.

For the third time that afternoon, Ran looks away.

Ran keeps telling herself she has no right to be jealous.

She does, everyday, but it’s hard when he smiles at her, cares for her, holds her in a way she’s never seen him do for anyone else. It gives her hope every time the girls cling to him but he never touches them back, whereas he automatically slings his arm over her shoulder because she’s afraid or cold or he simply feels like it.

Then again, maybe she’s giving herself too much credit. Perhaps it’s a free pass for being around him for too long. She even gets to spend time with him during weekends and holidays. It isn’t special because it’s normal.

And that’s all she’ll ever be, a normal girl in his eyes.

“Ran? She’s pretty special.”

Ran reacts to the mention of her name and catches Shinichi looking at her. “She appears quiet but she can kick anyone’s ass without breaking a sweat. It’s bad if you cross her,” Shinichi gloats with a grin.

“Oh my god, really? We can bring her with us then!” Kaori claps her hands in excitement.

“Ah... But she won’t like that,” he follows up, wary. Ran has missed the topic they were talking about and now she’s curious.

“But ghosts aren’t real and Mouri-san can give them a good beating!”

“Gh-Ghosts?” The color in her cheeks drains, eyes freezing at Shinichi who has probably already expected that reaction, for he sports that same look of concern as those times he had expressed whenever she joined him in his way-past-bedtime elementary school adventures.

“We’ll investigate an abandoned house I always pass by walking home,” Kaori explains. “Last night I saw a faint cigarette light at the second floor window. It might be a fugitive or a homeless person or a ghost, who knows?”

“You don’t need to come if you don’t want to, Ran,” Shinichi assures.

Gulping, Ran contemplates whether going with them will do her any good. It’s a nice change, it’s been a while since she last tagged with Shinichi in his cases. But she isn’t exactly proud of shrieking like a little kid in front of serious criminology majors who may feel like she’ll drag their covert investigation down if she joins.

“...I’ll pass,” she answers meekly, and his coursemates sulk except Shinichi, who offers her a smile of understanding.

“Man, I thought we’ll be able to see Mouri-san in action!”

“That’s ok, maybe next time. We still have Shinichi-kun!”

“Shinichi-kun will protect us, ne?”

“Hah. Right. Invite Hakuba too, use him.”

“Oh c’mooon, Shinichi-kun!”

Ran closes her eyes, struggling to zone their voices out.

In her silence, Ran ponders if she has made a wrong choice.

Ran has no right to be jealous. So it’s unfair for her to be treating him this way.

The following weekend, Shinichi narrates what happened in their late-night investigation. Hakuba wasn’t there so Shinichi was the only available guy as usual. Ran refuses to hear any more details, both of the haunted house and secretly of the girls chancing onto him during the investigation. Shinichi is puzzled.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“Nah, just swamped with work.”

“On a Sunday?”

“Yes.”

“Want me to assist?”

“No.”

Her replies are curt from the couch of his house, not looking at Shinichi on the other end as she mindlessly cleans up her digital sketches. She hates how snappy she sounds but her brain is too absorbed with conjuring spiteful imaginations to even think of masking her annoyance.

“Ran, hey. Look at me.”

His low voice freezes her from drawing, and she slowly looks up to meet Shinichi’s serious eyes.

When this happens, she knows he’s reading her. She inwardly chants a prayer because now isn’t a good time. Whatever time isn’t a good time. She doesn’t know what to say when she’s aware everything she’s been feeling is irrational and unfair. She’s being selfish.

“You’re… stressed.”

“No, I’m… Eh?”

He scoots closer, an arm’s length away. “Your dark circles are more prominent now, you need a break.” His eyes turn a soft blue. “Let’s have dinner out? My treat.”

Ran is surprised, to say the least. The last time he invited her out was two weeks ago. She’s become so used to seeing him around others that any initiative from him sounds too good to be true.

“But I need to finish this project by tonight.”

“Let’s have food delivery then!” Shinichi announces, not rattled by Ran’s indirect refusal. “I know exactly what you want. Ramen and shaved ice.”

Her eyes thin at the absurdly goofy expression she knows he makes when he’s being mischievous. “Clearly you’re ordering that ramen for yourself. I only like shaved ice.”

“Damn! Miss Detective gets it.” A mile-wide grin stretches across his face, earning an eye roll from the half-smiling woman. “Let’s eat together on your short break, please?”

He leans within a respectful distance and she sees his smile better, pair of kind eyes locking with her overworked ones. “It’s been a while.”

Her heart throbs for him. So much.

She caves - of course she does - and breathes her acquiescence.

After two long weeks, they have dinner together, just them and Shinichi’s ramen and Ran’s donburi and shaved ice, Shinichi taking a spoonful of dessert from the cup when she isn’t looking and Ran snatching a slurp from his take-out bowl and laughing when he catches her.

With how heartfelt his laughter is in her presence devoid of any mysteries, Ran knows she’s probably giving herself too much credit, but for once she wants to believe she is the cause of why Shinichi’s happy.

Just for that night, she gives it to herself.

She’ll change the dark colors of her digital artwork to brighter ones after they eat.

Despite everything, Ran finds it difficult to contain her recurring jealousy.

The more she shares precious time with him, the more it gets harder to suppress the selfish emotions. What is so unsatisfying about being the best friend is that she is only the best friend. No more no less. At the end of the day, she isn’t the one he gets to cuddle with, to tease then kiss, to tell ‘I love you’ to, romantically.

“I love you.”

Ran feels her heart about to leap out of her chest.

“But please. Stop. Tearing. The. Cushions!”

The little furball he has scooped underneath a throw pillow wiggle from his grasp. The kitten and detective engage in a brief staring showdown before it jumps away to hide under a farther couch.

Snapping out of reverie, Ran watches her childhood friend slink dejectedly onto the partly scratched furniture. He’s fortunate enough that his mother isn’t around to give him a long lecture on Why Pets Aren’t Allowed in the House 101. She can always take Yukiko-san’s role and reprimand him for it, but as for this and the cat, she finds herself not wanting to intervene.

“Kaori-san sure is taking her time with her parent’s permission. By the time she does, Momo would’ve shredded all the pillows in this house.”

“You named the cat?” Ran asks, amused.

“She did.” He thinks for a moment, then sniggers. “Actually I did. I suggested a random name. She took it.”

Ran merely hums. What can she say? They’re getting close. Close enough to team up as parents to an adopted kitten.

“I’m surprised you also agreed to keep Momo when you never took in animals before.”

“Kaori said she’ll treat me to the latest Detective Samonji movie this weekend if I do. Can’t resist that.”

“Just you two?”

“Yeah.”

A beat. Then he turns to her.

“Wanna join? I can ask her to count you in since you’re kinda helpi—”

“N-no need,” Ran quips, “It’s—It’s fine.”

“No really,” Shinichi insists, “Kaori-san has a lot of money, she—”

“I’m going to Tokyo Metropolitan Art Museum with Shun-san this weekend... so... I can’t.”

“Ah.”

Silence.

“It’s, um, for a project,” she bolsters.

“I know.” The faintest smile graces his lips. “It’s your thing. Both of you.”

“Mm.”

He doesn’t say anything else after that.

“Shinichi, you’re a detective, right?” she blurts out of the blue.

“Yeah...and?”

Then deduce what I feel. Here and now.

“Then you’re going to enjoy that movie!” Ran forces a beam, giving Shinichi a thumb of approval. “And you can discuss it with Kaori-san over dinner. I’m sure you two have a lot to say about it.”

Shinichi’s eyes linger on her, reading her like a book, and Ran has her mind reeling again, afraid to be read.

“Yeah, we do,” he finally says, ending the conversation.

Only a few words are uttered the rest of the afternoon.

Momo resurfaces and curls beside Shinichi.

Momo’s purring is loud, but Ran’s shattering heart is louder.

Ran must not feel jealous. She is not a girlfriend.

Because she isn’t a girlfriend, he’s free to fall for and date anyone else. Who is she to gatekeep him? There are plenty of fish in the sea, and he’s one big catch. Ran believes she’s a big catch, too. With the way she loves dearly, her future boyfriend is going to be very lucky.

Her future boyfriend is not going to be him.

“...mber the required fieldwork in one of my majors I told you? We actually go by batches. The first batch did theirs last month. The second batch was last week… and I— Ran, are you listening?”

“Ah! Yes,” Ran notices they have already reached her station and are now walking two blocks to her apartment. “Your fieldwork, right?”

“...Yeah,” he carries on. “I’m in the last batch... This whole winter break.”

“I see, I understand.” She smiles, getting what he means. No Christmas or New Year’s Eve together. The first time since they’re four. It’s fine, honestly. If it’s a required activity, then there’s really no way to go about it. She isn’t going to lash out just because she can’t be with him in her most favorite time of the year.

“And Hattori-kun and Hakuba-kun will be with you?”

“Hattori did his last month. Hakuba is in the previous batch. I’ll be stuck with the girls.”

Ran’s heart momentarily squeezes. “Where will your fieldwork be?”

“In Akita.”

Her pupils constrict. “That far?”

“Yes... so to cut on expenses, Kaori-san offered her house for me and the others to stay while we’re there—”

Kaori. Again with the tall, beautiful, intelligent Kaori. She bets it’s amazing to spend the holidays doing what he loves and with Kaori beside her, snuggling with him by the fireplace in a romantic snowy night and she might even confess, and it’ll be a great catch for Shinichi, and he’ll return with a girlfriend, and—

“Kaori-san is lucky.” The words flow out of her mouth, unbridled.

Shinichi looks at her. “Lucky?”

Ran remains quiet and keeps walking. It’s dangerous to say anything. She only has one thing in her mind and she doesn’t want to say it out loud. She has no right.

“Ran, hey.”

She doesn’t stop walking.

“Ran.”

She ignores his call.

“Ran… you’re jealous.”

She stops walking.

“Excuse me?”

“...You’re jealous…” Shinichi repeats quietly.

A contrast to his calm tone, his irises beset hers in the cold twilight and Ran attempts to shield herself but her bag and umbrella are in the way. She thinks of turning away but her feet are frigid like icicles, and Shinichi steps closer.

For the third time, he declares, “You’re jealous.”

Hearing her thoughts echo through his words renders her speechless.

It seems to take a moment before Shinichi’s brow arches, lips curl up as his eyes refuse to stray, and she hears a faint exhale even, like he’s exasperated, and suddenly he’s smiling - or is he smirking? sneering? - and...and...

It stings, is her immediate reaction.

For the longest time, she’d wanted him to take a hint. But if she had known this was how he’d react, she’d rather live a life having him oblivious of her emotional struggle. Dealing with that is more tolerable than witnessing him gaze her down in blatant mockery. He sneers as though he’s about to crack a joke and move on and forget such a laughable matter. That’s the last form of acknowledgment she wants for her honest feelings.

Heartbreak and shame and pain build up in her chest like a volcano closing eruption. Water begins to cloud her vision. She clenches her fist tight on her umbrella and Shinichi notices, and he takes another step forward.

“Ran…?”

“I am not, and you’re a fool.”

In a span of a breath, she’s sprinting in the opposite direction, tracing the path where they have walked, ignoring the distant yells of her name behind her. She runs and runs, and as she runs farther, with her thoughts muddy and breath short and dry, she wonders if she may have overreacted.

If he’s done that on purpose, screw him. If not, screw her.

After all, they are merely friends and she has no logical reason to act this way.

“Stop... running... will you!”

She hears heavy footsteps close in. It takes all the energy Ran has to prevent herself from turning her body around but his strong grip overpowers her.

“Let me go!”

“Why are you running?!”

“I can’t...deal with you!”

“Why? Was I right?”

“Right or wrong, it doesn’t matter!”

“Why doesn’t it matter?”

“Because I am your best friend!”

On another occasion, she would’ve successfully jilted away and run farther, but Ran is floored when he yanks her into a one-armed hug, so floored she drops her umbrella to the snowy ground.

“Stop saying that!” he hisses in her ear, frustration apparent.

“What are you— Let me go!”

He hugs her tighter.

“If you don’t let go in three seconds, I will screa—”

“I am happy!”

Ran stops struggling, eyes widening in shock.

Icy huffs tickle her neck as he half shouts, “I’m happy you feel that way!”

“You’re...You’re happy because I’m suffering?”

“What? No! I—”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better? How?” The hurt in her tone is impeccable, prattling muffled against his chest as she spares him no moment to butt in. “You think I wanted to feel this? That I enjoy griping in helpless jealousy? And you’re rejoicing that I am? How full of yourself can you be?!”

“That’s not...You don’t underst—”

“I do understand! I understand that I am so incredibly stupid for catching this disgusting heap of emotions for an obnoxious, stuck-up deduction maniac that is my best friend and maybe it’s better after all that he never, ever sees me the way I see him!”

“Stop saying that, Ran!”

She thinks he has broken away, but he drags her back with an insistent tug, crashing his lips onto hers as she stumbles into his arms.

All willpower rippling through her disintegrates quickly like snow in high heat.

An impatient pop resonates as he separates, eyes slowly opening, breath thick and ragged.

“I know that is not how we explain things, but does that explain anything?”

She hears it. The madness. But more than madness, yearning bleeds through his voice so much that her frustration turns into physical pain. Blinded by an all-consuming ache, she tips her chin and presses her lips back against his, demanding for cure in the wrong place. Shinichi freezes, then relaxes. He moves his hand to her nape, four fingers in her hair, thumb treading her jaw.

They look like a scene in a movie.

Under his umbrella and hidden from view, they communicate through brushing lips and tilting heads. His mouth closing over hers with gentle force, her hands splaying across his chest, heavy with something that makes his heart pound under them.

She is so lost in the chase and his tender embrace that for a second she forgets she is kissing her best friend.

Best friend.

This doesn’t explain anything. It worsens it.

She pulls back, ending what she has so recklessly started. “N-no, I’m— No.”

She pushes him away, gathers the stuff she drops, and runs without looking back.

“Ran!”

He shouts her name. Twice.

On the third call, his footfalls die down. On the fourth, he stops running.

She doesn’t.

Thirty minutes before midnight, Ran stands outside his gate, boots buried half foot under the snow as she rings his intercom for the second time, thinking to herself how foolish she must be to cut communications with him for a week and then show up his doorstep looking miserable like a stood-up date.

It’s the start of winter break.

He’ll leave for Akita in ten hours.

She needs to give his Christmas present before his departure.

She’s crazy, pathetic, still frustrated, and hurtfully in love.

“Oi. You better have a good explanation for why you’re buzzing at goddamn midnig—”

“Shinichi.”

His surprised gasp is apparent even through the intercom. A rustle follows and with a croaky voice, he responds. “...Ran.”

Surely he isn’t expecting this. Not after the tantrum she threw days ago. He probably thinks she hates him more than ever. But what she truly feels is more overwhelming than all negative emotions combined, and may god grant her all the strength to address it all, tonight.

“May I come in?”

“The house is—The house is a mess I, um. I’m packing my stuff for...”

“I’ll help you.”

“...”

She’ll understand if he decides to turn her down. But the answer that follows the deafening pause is a low and quiet ‘Okay’.

Despite psyching herself hours before she came, courage wanes when he opens the front door and gate in his pullovers. She is welcomed in, and the trip up his room is wordless. Shinichi only talks when he points out that he’s already packed clothes for two days and will need help for two weeks’ worth. He lamely laughs when he instructs her to pick the tops and layers, and he’ll take care of the pants and underwear.

On a normal instance, she would’ve humored him and they would’ve been talking right after. Now she simply pulls an empty smile and then they fall back into silence.

She supposes he’s trying to act unbothered, to treat what happened a week ago as a one-and-done glitch in their friendship, never to be discussed again. She cannot fault him when she’s trying to do the same. But it’s not easy when in the stillness of the night the echo of their altercation howls, raging persistently in their ears.

What has he been thinking of for the past week?

Has he been kept up all night by the words she said and the words he left unspoken?

Are they still friends? Will they still be friends after this?

The kiss... What about the kiss?

So many questions. So little words. So little time.

Ran is seated on the floor, folding shirts and stuffing them neatly in his duffel bag. Her back faces Shinichi who is sorting out bottoms in his cabinet. She senses him sit on the floor, back against her but not touching. Neither dares to speak first.

A ringing phone cuts the silence.

“Mm, still awake. Good for two weeks right? Gotcha. No, I’ll meet you girls at the station, no need to fetch me. Pfft. I can walk. Ok, see you tomorrow.”

If Ran wasn’t so hyperaware of where she is and what she’s done, her mood would’ve shifted to the one she’d been trying to avoid. Now isn’t the time to think about that. Midnight sneaking out to go to his house is something she wouldn’t do even on good days. She scans her bag on the far couch, deliberately bringing a bigger one to hide his gift. Maybe she can just sneak it in his bag and leave once she’s done and he’ll discover it only when he’s prefectures away. Brown has always suited him, and he’ll definitely find the overcoat useful as spare protective gear.

That’s right. She always cares for him like this. She is his best friend first, and... and nothing second.

“Don’t just leave after putting your present in my bag. At this hour, I can’t let you walk home alone,” he says swiftly.

Ran’s eyes fly wide.

“How did you…”

He doesn’t say anything and continues with his business.

Again with the throat-drying silence.

Something in Ran’s gut compels her to speak, but she is surprised when he does first.

“I... I don’t like Kaori-san. If that’s what you’re thinking.”

Ran stiffens, pausing mid-motion from folding. “I’m not…”

He leans his back completely against her and she shudders, voice reverberating through her skin. “Ran, if you could just hear me out.”

Unable to talk and move, she does.

“Kaori-san and the rest... They know I love mysteries. They know I want to build my own private detective agency. They know my favorite Holmes’ story is The Sign of Four. They know how many crimes I solved in Tokyo. All the information about me which anyone can read from the internet and newspaper and from what I told them when they ask, they know. Ran, you know all that. All that and more.”

He angles his head to the ceiling as if he’s talking to someone there. Ran supports his weight, curling to her knees as she silently listens.

“You know of my first ever deduction because Christ, my first deduction was about you. You know of the two cases which haunt me until this day because I watched the culprit die in front of my very eyes. You were with me the nights I locked myself in here thinking about them. You know of the interesting, the boring, the absurd cases, everything, because I told you or you were there. You know of the odd way I play the violin while I ponder over a case. You know I forget to eat when swamped with new books to read. I have three copies of The Sign of Four but the one I keep beside my bed and read almost weekly is the one you gave me on my tenth birthday and that is all I need. You know me for me, Ran. Everything about me that is off the record, the good and the bad, you know all of those. Only you. The same way I do... about you.”

She feels him crane slightly to the side, addressing her.

“Ran.”

“Mm.”

“I love you.”

Ran’s heart almost completely stops beating.

“I love you,” he whispers, “more than I am even supposed to.”

All words seem to have fizzled out of her vocabulary as she sits still, stunned at what she’s hearing.

“I’m happy growing up with you, studying with you, bickering with you, acting stupid with you, investigating with you, eating with you, napping with you, hugging you, holding you, taking care of you, simply... being with you. Before I know it, it’s not the cases or Holmes or mysteries that complete my days, it’s you.

“For you to keep repeating that ‘best friend’ phrase, I…” He lowers his head.

“For who knows how long, I’ve loved you as that and more.”

Someone pinch her because in no way can this be real.

“I was happy thinking you’re jealous because it meant a sliver of chance you feel the same way. We could’ve remedied the misunderstanding easily, Ran. We could’ve talked it over like we always do. But I was stupid and emotions were high and in the end I… kissed you…” he takes another deep breath, “But—but you kissed me back, and my heart couldn’t stay still...”

Pulse drumming loud, Ran tilts her head on the side where he leans, wanting to see the slightest expression he makes as he continues.

“If my deductions are wrong and you’re mad for a different reason, and—and you returned that for a different reason...” she hears the pang of remorse in his tone, “then please forget I ever said anything and I’ll leave myself to die in humiliation once I’m out of your sight.”

He lays one palm flat on the floor and she notices.

“But if my deductions are right and you were indeed jealous, I...” She feels his head swivel enough to feel his warm breath fan across her cheek, before shifting back front and releasing a slow, guttural exhale he’s kept contained within.

“I’ll wait... until you accept it. Accept me.”

Ran may have choked on her throat for how long she’s held her breath.

In spite of herself, she knows she doesn’t need to think of what to say. She had it all in her head before coming here. Yet expressing it out loud is a different matter.

She isn’t ready, but when will she ever be ready? Shinichi undoubtedly isn’t too. Yet here he is, laying the groundwork for her, no holds barred and a stuttering mess at that. How she plans to build from it is the question she asks herself next.

Inhaling as though bracing herself, she places a hand beside him, pinky slightly grazing his.

“I didn’t... You never showed any signs.”

Careful and calm, he extends his little finger over hers. She doesn’t flinch, and both hands crawl closer until two fingers overlap.

“Either I’m a great pretender or you’re incredibly dense.”

“I’m...I’m not dense.”

“I’m a bad actor, then.” He slides his hand further.

“I was trying so hard to be a supportive best friend for you.”

“I sensed that but ignored it because I didn’t want to assume anything.”

“You did though. Now we’re here.”

“Would you rather we aren’t?”

“I would rather we spend the last weeks of this year talking like normal than being stupid idiots before you leave.”

“It’s just two weeks, Ran.”

“Two special weeks I would’ve wanted to spend with my best frien-... with you.”

Without knowing it, his hand has completely nestled atop hers, four fingers curled between her thumb and index finger.

“Ran... You must really hate the idea of falling in love with me.”

“Eh?”

“You’re so wrapped with the thought that we’re simply best friends that you hold your love in chains as though it isn’t permitted to grow.”

“I… I didn’t want to ruin the only connection we have-”

“Two friends falling in love are still friends… They are also more. You cannot ruin an indefeasible connection. Friendship and love may be the only bond we have, but they’re the most important bond of all.”

Ran falls quiet.

“Geez…”

He releases a thick sigh, brushes his thumb across her splayed fingers.

“I have shit art appreciation skills, but I can take you to museums too... as a friend and as a date.” A beat, and a mumble. “Even to better museums than Tokyo Metropolitan Art Museum.”

She darts her head sideways, realizing something.

“Were you also…?”

“No.”

Ran doesn’t suppress the heartfelt giggle that bubbles out.

“Shun-san has a boyfriend, Shinichi.”

“I—” he pauses. “I wasn’t asking.” Ran giggles more.

“Shinichi.”

“Yes.”

“I love you too.”

The hand above squishes hers all too suddenly like he’s been blown away and is needing something to hold onto.

“I came here to give your present and to apologize for being so shallow and for acting without thinking and for a lot of things actually... but now I feel there’s no need, because then I wouldn’t have...” She looks down at their intertwined hands.

Before she can return his squeeze, he recoils.

“Oh, y-you do apologize. Running away like that.” He coughs, and she can practically hear the tripping in his tone.

“Aren’t you already used to it? I’ve done it many times,” she chides.

“No. Apologize,” he insists. “And look at me while you do.”

Ran’s stomach twists, heart kicking up a step.

It’s easy to talk without eye contact, but to be requested so after confessions are exchanged—

“Face me, Ran.”

The familiar voice of yearning strums her heartstrings, tone sounding a lot like a plea than an order and Ran finds her head instinctively craning at an angle, hand coiling on the floor trying to calm her nervous beating heart. She feels him shift behind as well.

She takes all her time to face him, partly unsure what to do, partly knowing exactly what she wants to do. Despite the deliberate slowness of their movements, it is when they lock eyes that time truly seems to stop.

Shinichi appears so different, so soulful. His blue irises glimmering, fixated on nothing but her as she reveres him with matching intensity. The same guy she treats as her best friend looks at her with tender love in his eyes, darting down her lips and up like no best friend ever would.

“I love you,” he says, breathless. “Make me your boyfriend.”

A wave of emotion sweeps over her, heartbeat fluttering in overdrive as they huddle on the floor, bags and clothes and time forgotten.

“From best friend to... such a shift-”

“Nothing will be different.” He rests his forehead on hers, gaze of soft blue patient though more intimate now, knowing what they share is mutual. “We’ll still do what we do... With exclusive romantic commitment and sweet nothings that translate to ‘I love you’ in more ways than one.”

She attempts a jab on his chest but he catches her fist, soft but jesting beam all too apparent and she does but play along.

“What about when we fight?” she asks.

“Same. But...” he slides a thumb over her quiet lips, parting them slightly, “I can do this once we make up.”

“...Like right now?”

“Like right now.”

A genuine smile is the last thing she sees before delicate pair of lips lands on hers, capping their one-week fight and their last night of the year together in the best and most unexpected way imaginable.

Ran keeps telling herself she shouldn’t be jealous.

Not because they are simply best friends, because they aren’t. Not because life would be easier if she didn’t involve herself in his business twenty-four seven, because it wouldn’t.

Not because Shinichi doesn’t look at her that way, because he does.

She shouldn’t be jealous because she absolutely has no reason to, is all.

“I haven’t forgotten about your present. I was planning to buy yours in Akita.”

“Stop lying, you totally forgot it.”

“I didn’t. Stop that.” Half-mast eyes rake her side profile, and Ran covers a mirthful grin with her mitted hand holding the umbrella, then yawns. Hours of packing and talking and laughing left them with roughly four hours of sleep. It isn’t like she slept the whole period because while sleeping in his room isn’t new, cuddling while they sleep is. Ran couldn’t simply shut her eyes and heart to that.

“I believe though,” he wraps a hand around her free one, pocketing both of them in his brand new overcoat, “I gave half of my present already.”

“Hnn. That doesn’t count as a gift.” Her hand shifted, coddling his own to a warm fit.

“Really?” A smug smirk pulls up his face. “I believe I am a nice present, Ran. That’s why they—”

“Screw this. You are unbelievable. A humbug. Why do people like you.”

“I know. Why do you like me?” Shinichi laughs as he avoids the swing of her umbrella.

From afar, they see Kaori and the girls at the meet-up point outside Tokyo Station, though they seem unaware of their presence yet. Suddenly feeling conscious, Ran feels the urge to disentangle her hand, but Shinichi holds on, firm.

“Why?” He asks in a low voice.

“I dunno… maybe this isn’t the best time…”

“Isn’t now the best time?” His smile is proud and natural, not one ounce of reluctance visible.

Although she gets what he means, that doesn’t free her of shyness and guilt. Somehow she feels like apologizing to Kaori for… she doesn’t know. She just wants to. Letting her see them like this makes her think that she’s giving her an indirect slap on the face. Shinichi certainly won’t agree because ‘What’s with women and their logic?’, but still, whether or not it’s all in her head, Ran needs more time to prepare for this.

But to her surprise, Shinichi lets go of her hand. They are still a few feet from view when he steps in front of her and turns around. “Maah, fine, I get it,” he huffs, then smiles. “Then, just give me your umbrella.”

The moment she does, Shinichi closes their distance and dips his face onto hers. Ran is given no leeway to gasp as loving lips seal her quiet. It isn’t as long as what they shared a week ago, but the emotions are loaded and full, speaking fond thanks and temporary farewell.

She doesn’t realize she has closed her eyes until he separates, and she’s met with the most tender, most angelic expression he wears only on the rarest occasions. He’s saying without telling that her feelings are valid, she doesn’t have to worry, and he doesn’t have eyes for anyone but her. Somehow, the snow is the sea and fish are swarming around but neither cares because they have already caught each other.

“You don’t have to, silly.” Three layers of pink blanket Ran’s puffy cheeks.

“But I want to.” Grinning, Shinichi hands her back the umbrella. “You don’t like hand-holding. You don’t like being seen. Don’t you think that’s a great compromise?”

“Idiot, many people saw...”

“No, they didn’t!” Upping the duffel bag slung on his shoulder, he steps back and gives her one last goofy beam. “I’ll see you next year, Ran. I’ll call as often as I can.”

Wordlessly, Ran watches Shinichi’s back as he jogs to his waiting companions, who by then have already had their eyes pinned on the approaching figure.

“That is Shinichi-kun! ...And Mouri-san!”

“Ehhh!!?! You’re a thing!”

So much for being subtle, Ran flushes inwardly as she returns the wave the other girls are giving her. At that moment she really does feel immature for her past conduct. All of them are sweet. Even Kaori.

“I knew it Shinichi-kun! Mouri-san is sooo lucky, I’m so jealous!” Ran hears their banter and sees her jab his bicep before acknowledging her. “We’ll take care of him, Mouri-san!”

The Ran from one week ago would’ve had her heart crushed by such declaration, but now she’s nothing but pleased and the smile that forms across her lips is nothing but honest. “Make sure he doesn’t drag your group into a random dead body, Kaori-san!”

“Hey!” surfaces Shinichi’s shout amidst the mincing laughter of the group and the onlooking passers-by, and Ran bids her last wave before they enter the station.

Smiling to herself, Ran returns home, the lingering promise of his kiss committed to memory, knowing that she doesn’t have to get jealous because she has no reason to. Their indefeasible bond is all the assurance she needs.

#shinran #kiss prompts #fanfic #lmk anon(s) if you see this and if you do then yaaay #thank you for requesting!#and thank you for reading!#:')#I have a love-hate relationship with this fic #it's only supposed to be 4 scenes #oh well it is what it is lmao #it's ok ig since this is the last (awww) from the kiss prompts!#😌#I tried so hard with a jealous Ran haha #jealous fics are good reads but writing them is hard :O

133 notes · View notes

neonponders · 3 years

Text

WIP Wednesday

Thank you for tagging me @lazybakerart 💗💋

I’ve got two big writing projects on my plate this week lol but one thing I’m kind of indulging is a break-up/getting back together fic that I actually started in this post, but I’ll share what I have so far underneath the cut ~

(and excuse me while I overshare, because I’m still stupidly proud of this The Mummy_au post that I made if anyone wants a taste of that)

Tagging (if you want) ✨ @ghostofjellyfishforgotten , ✨ @smashmouth-hargrove , and ✨ @withoneheadlight

(also just a heads up for the wip below: it’s once again me exploring my own asexuality through Steve, but I don’t know how far I’m going to go into it. Still, that might be a content warning people may need if they’re sex-repulsed 🌹)

Ch. 1

Sex with Billy was fine. Good, even.

When they finally moved past every look and touch being a threat veiled in a tease, Steve enjoyed looking at Billy. He enjoyed looking at Billy and discovering those California eyes already on him. He liked Billy’s hands. The man had beautiful hands; strong, thick fingers but...somehow elegant.

He liked Billy’s body, even though he sometimes worried that the guy seemed determined to break it ten different ways. Cigarettes, alcohol, excessive working out, and sometimes all at the same time.

Sex didn’t always mean Steve got to cum. Usually he didn’t, actually. But he enjoyed Billy’s kisses on his neck, and the taste of his tongue, and - admittedly - he loved just having all of Billy’s attention enraptured on him. Steve didn’t mind taking his dick inside because once he got used to it, that felt surprisingly good. When he managed the pleasurable sparks and sensational tingles that mounted into something explosive, he understood why sex was great. But for the more frequent, calm nights, he’d come to think of it as a weird yet pleasant massage.

So he took it. Because it was easier on his hands and knees, for one, and because Billy had a control complex. And Steve could hide his lack of enthusiasm.

Not to say that Billy was selfish or careless. Far from it, Billy Hargrove was an incredibly doting lover. Big surprise, there. Considering how the guy

Well

Existed.

Steve couldn’t really blame Billy for never noticing that he could go a long time without sex. Because Steve liked resting his hand on Billy’s chest while they watched a show or movie. It didn’t matter how much bare skin he had access to. In fact, the more coverage, the better. A clothed body is better to cuddle with than skin that can get sticky or irritated.

Steve liked kissing. He’d always liked kissing. Kissing was the reason he’d assumed he was like everyone else: the desire to kiss, crushes and girlfriends, masturbating, even the giddiness of sex with someone new.

But something fizzled out very quickly in Steve’s brain. Once hands and intent started moving beneath clothing, Steve just...didn’t want it. Suddenly a lot of things popped into his brain that he’d rather be doing. But he persevered because he loved Nancy, and her blooming sexual prowess and bravery was sexy.

Fun.

Billy was a whole big bag of new with an edge of scary that turned out to be more endearing than Steve thought possible. So it was easy to go like that for a while.

Normal.

Eventually he had to admit to himself that he didn’t like taking showers at 1am because he didn’t enjoy being covered in his own, and Billy’s, sweat. He didn’t like feeling the drips on his skin or the tackiness of too many skin oils on his hands.

He hated admitting to himself that he felt relief whenever Billy went out of town for work. He missed Billy, of course, but a lot of things had begun to snowball together in Steve’s life: changing jobs, managing bank accounts and savings, and there were a lot of truths Steve was facing outside of his relationship.

He was tired. Damn tired. He spent many days off wondering if people in their twenties feel this tired all the time or if it was just him. It must just be him. Because Steve sees Robin just as much as he doesn’t. She’s got goals.

And Billy

Billy has big dreams. He’s ready to work damn hard and already is. That’s why he uses his hefty gas money funds, to travel around. Scout the areas. Steve even drove him to the airport once, so Billy could really gain some distance over the weekend. Expand his network.

As if the universe knew, some bigwig passing through Hawkins on their way to Chicago ran right into Billy. A bigwig looking for a handsome, charismatic, young guy to mentor. It really couldn’t be more perfect than divine intervention. They’re Billy’s inlet to the business. Modeling, acting, freaking UNICEF ambassadorial work if he wants to feel extra important. If he gets big enough to have his face mean something around the world.

Within one conversation, he’s got a business card, and an appointment in a Chicago skyscraper next week to take measurements and do a rudimentary photo shoot. The manager warns him that it’s the agency getting to know him, but like any job interview, it’s his chance to interview them right back. Billy likes that a lot—feeling like he has a stake in something instead of just being a corporate pawn. And maybe he eats right out of the manager’s hand, but it’s still a shot. And he’s taking it.

He immediately goes to Steve’s work, fired up from seeing a future for the first time like he finally got the right prescription glasses. The only caveat is that Billy has to move out of Hawkins, which isn’t even a flaw, really. It’s as close to perfect as life’s ever been for him.

Steve can only listen quietly as he sits at the table in the break room. Because Billy’s got big dreams that are already coming true. Every detail of his enflamed speech is given over pacing feet; he can’t even bother to sit at the table. Billy’s got so much energy he’s already mentally and emotionally out the door.

Steve…isn’t. His mental health has been on a downward slope since before they graduated, and it won’t allow him to reach anywhere. He doesn’t have any dreams to steer him in any direction anyways.

Billy’s rant begins to wind down about what he wants to do; his fire about his dreams and his motivation simmers down to an even boil. Steve’s impressed and already proud of the person Billy will become, but Steve can also hear Billy’s frustration with him and their relationship.

For not keeping up.

Steve’s…kind of never been able to keep up. In bed or in life.

And perhaps the saddest part is that Steve doesn’t even have it in him to fight for it. For them. He doesn’t feel worthy enough to hold Billy back. So he doesn’t.

Billy snaps a little, “Why aren’t you saying anything? I’ve been talking about this for the last two years! Steve?”

He��d gotten distracted by looking at his backpack hanging on the wall. Steve’s throat hurt. Two years? God, it’s really been two years already…

He pinched his fingertips over the table as he began, “Billy, I support you. I know you can get there—wherever it is you want to be. I’m not going to tell you to stop or slow down. You’re going somewhere. But I’m…”

He took a breath to finally say it. “Not. I don’t know what I’m doing, and I don’t think I have the energy to figure it out any time soon. You should go.”

Steve can see the disappointment sinking through Billy’s features. And the anger that he’s so used to throwing up as a shield. Billy has so much energy coursing through him as it is, Steve can’t blame him for swinging right into the direction of livid.

The real surprise comes from how soft he speaks. No yelling. No hitting the table. No wrenching Steve up by his green uniform vest. They were long past those outbursts. Which…really just confirmed Steve’s decision. Billy had come a long way. He could go so much further.

“That’s what you have to say? Just like that…you’re really giving up on us?”

Steve knows he’s gaping like a stupid fish. But it isn’t just like that, is it? Billy’s been revving his engines to get the hell out of Hawkins ever since he got here in the first place. Steve tries to say as much, but Billy cuts him off.

“I thought you’d be excited for this. You should be hauling me out of here to pack my bags.”

Steve tries to offer a small smile, but his voice betrays him. “I thought I kind of am? I didn’t take you for the long distance type.”

It’s not the response Billy wants. That should make Steve feel better than it does; the blatant display that Billy wants more of Steve. His excitement, his attention, maybe his companionship…

Steve doesn’t know what he wants—or rather, he does. That’s the issue. Billy’s wants and Billy’s problems can all be resolved by leaving one critical piece behind.

Steve.

Some more things are said, but Steve doesn’t do well on the spot. Especially when the limelight is Billy. Steve fails the tests and he fails the interview. Billy storms out, leaving Steve at the table, pinching his fingertips white before he unconsciously glances at his backpack again.

The backpack full of apartment lease papers. The papers Steve’s already signed because even with his insecurities, the mornings he woke up to discover Billy spooning him after having returned in the middle of the night were his best days. Because Billy’s silly insistence on hand poured coffee was his favorite drink. Because Billy was funny and weird like an artist and loony like a nerd with his video games, and Steve knew—or at least hoped that—Billy loved him the day he started holding his hand while driving that stupid, loud, beloved Camaro—

Because Steve’s heart was a magnet. It stayed where it landed and tugged back even when pulled away.

All he’d needed was Billy’s autograph to be given the keys. Keys to the rest of their lives, if Billy wasn’t already so far away.

Ch. 2

Robin gripped Steve’s arm, hard. A gargled sound escaped him as he grimaced and tried to pry her hand off. Her other hand pointed at one of the catalogues on the store’s many counters. When he invited her with him to pick out glasses, he hadn’t expected to walk out of the freaking optometrist’s office with bruises…

Nor had he thought he’d see a familiar face in the catalogue. Plenty of models were looking editorial chic, advertising that anyone could look as good in whatever glasses they chose.

Except Billy really did look good. The picture was just a vague image outside, the camera focused on Billy’s three-quarter profile gazing off past the photographer.

“I didn’t expect him to actually be working this fast,” Robin admitted. “It’s been…what? Seven months, give or take? I thought casting calls for models were competitive.”

“Not if you look like Billy,” Steve huffed with a quiet mixture of humor, sadness, and just a sprinkle of spite. A sprinkle of jealousy, if he was being honest with himself. The self-help book tucked under the covers of his bed talked about honesty. So he admitted honestly, “He looks that good and knows how to stand out in a room…good for him.”

He could see in his periphery Robin looking up and scrutinizing him. “Really?”

Steve shrugged with a nod. “Yeah. What’s the other option? Him struggling for work?”

Robin sighed and plucked a display set of glasses at random to try on and occupy herself. “That’s big of you, but everyone wants something cathartic. It’s annoyingly impressive that he landed the front cover of a magazine in less than a year.”

Steve opened the catalogue to give them both a reprieve. “You wanna get food after this? Take your mind off the audition?”

For all the good being a band geek did, Robin had experienced her own humbling experiences over the last few months. Like failed auditions to be in city orchestras. She and Steve were feeling very stuck in Kansas while Billy gallivanted around Oz.

• • • • • • •

The plot gets messy because years will actually go by, and Steve and Robin get married so that they can share insurance benefits (and be safe in their bi/lesbian open relationship, buy a house together, etc. It’s the life/happiness security Steve wants but obviously there aren’t any romantic feelings).

Of course this is when Billy happens to reenter Steve’s life. He’s got some hot-shot model he’s been seeing, and apparently Steve is married so there’s the added dash and twist of ~ cheating ~

I’ve been in some kind of mood, all right.

If you made it this far, thank you for reading lol.

#harringrove #wip wednesday #this is a long one i'm sorry lol #also do check out the mummy au linked above for a much happier wip lol #neonponders #lazybakerart #the art of steve in a blindfold can also be considered a wip?#i'll reblog it for everyone haha #ficlet #break-up/getting back together

16 notes · View notes

juniaships · 3 years

Text

After being reminded of how awful canon film is I wrote my own self indulgent version of Batman Vs. Superman. I want the story to be self contained, so no Doomsday or Darkseid forewarning. Warning: Rambling, me being butthurt while high on sugar, really trying to make this a coherent storyline with genuine development, some Bruce x OC moments shut up you demon!

The beginning is the same as in canon with Lois in Africa???Middle East??? With her partner James Olsen trying to resolve a hostage situation. James gets killed trying to protect a hostage, but before anymore are killed Superman comes in and rescues them. He subdues not kill the terrorists but gets into trouble with the intelligence agency for interrupting their mission. This incident reaches the ears of Helen Hunt's character the no-nonsense Senator. However Superman is more concerned for the deceased James and the unharmed hostages than getting in trouble with the government, he feels guilty being unable to save James in time.

After James Olsen's funeral Clark and Lois are unsure what to do next. They decide the best way to honor his memory is continuing their line of working bringing light to troubling issues as well as a troubling rose of villains. They also find out that the terrorists had weapons given to them by Luthor (to protect interests in that region).

Meanwhile, Lex decides to capitalize on the post destruction of Metropolis by launching a smear campaign. He also starts pursuing charitable events to make himself look good in front of the masses. Because of growing negativity towards Supes, Clark starts feeling a lack of confidence but from reassurance from his mom he redirects his focus hero by doing small stuff around Smallville. Gradually the town starts to see him in a far better light but there's still Metropolis and the larger world. Clark goes there to help rebuild. At his job at DP, he gets the chance to interview visiting millionaire Bruce Wayne in Whatever City (not the actual name but a totally different city from Metropolis and Gotham). At the press meeting Bruce is rather cold & not as Clark expected. He's even working with Lex Luthor as part of a business deal, which makes Clark wary as he knows about Luthor's criminal activity.

Superman goes out in a flight to clear his head. While flying around he sees a kid walking on the railroad tracks hy himself with a pair of headphones....and a train steadily approaching! Supes swoops in and saves the kod from being nuked and chastises him for being so reckless. The teenager apologies and introduces himself as Jimmy Olsen (a nephew of the deceased James). He had been listening to music as a way to cope with his uncle's death. They talk for a while and Superman brings Jimmy back home. Several weeks later Clark ends up mentoring Jimmy as a school project.

Back in Whatever City we're introduced to one of Lex's assistants Nicola. She's a former Holliday Girl who had overheard Lex's plan and vowed to stop him. She managed to get in contact with an old friend: Diana Prince. Nicola brings up Lex's plan and hidden research of metahumans. The Amazon surmises that such a scheme could result in the deaths of hundreds if not thousands of people. Diana decides to bring her agency to stop him & asks Nicola to stay low. Diana gathers her old armor and prays to the Gods for luck.

Lex apparently likes Nicola enough to send her an invite to a charity ball, where she crosses paths with Bruce for the first time. They talk for a while only to be interrupted by Clark.

After a meeting with Luthor to discuss a merger with their companies, and seeing hints of Luthor's true selfishness, Bruce grows suspicious of him and started to dig around. We see through memorabilia that his initial coldness towards Clark and other people wasn't out of spite but of grief: Jason Todd's death some years ago.

Clark continues his good deeds and is slowly regaining his respect. He even makes plan to visit a children's hospital but is forced to cancel when Superman gets called to show up for a Congress hearing. At the meeting Superman admits his guilt but tells about James and how he died a hero. The Senator doesn't know where Superman is going with this but is listening. Then Superman's voice trails of as he hears a beeping noise and shocked he leaves the room in a hurry. He briefly searches the place and finds a bomb strapped in a closet. He carries the bomb out and throws it as high into the sky as possible Back inside the audience and senator are bewildered by his absence then hear a loud booming noise outside. There's shock as a bright light flashes in the sky...

Superman legit rejected their hearing to save them from a bomb. A bomb planted there by Tess on the instructions of Luthor...a plan she was willing to sacrifice her own life for.

This leaves the senator reconsidering her stance: if he really was as bad as people say then he wouldn't have saved them.

After the incident the entire country begins to have a more positive opinion of Superman while the government launches a search for possible terrorists. Bruce hears about what happened and after sneaking around as Batman, finds out about Luthor being the one responsible for the attempted terror attack. Later on he (as civilian) makes an announcement that he is not going to go through with the merger with LexCorp.

Hearing the news that Superman foiled his attempted assassination (and losing out on Wayne Enterprises), Lex gets very pissed off and threatens to fire Tess. She tries to save face by reminding Lex of his contingency plan...making Lex calm down and grin as he begins to remake his plan.

Nicola agrees to a date with Bruce and prepares. Meanwhile Lois and Jimmy are enjoying a night on the town while Clark stays behind to work on a news story. The two friends were about ti make it back to their hotel before being accosted by some men who force them into a car and takes them to Lex Corp.

At the HQ Lois calls him out that his plan could spell doom for the world. Surprisingly Luthor agrees but makes it clear he doesn't care. He orders his men to capture her, but Jimmy manages to escape and goes off to find Clark (who is writing a story to expose Luthor's actions). Jimmy tells him learns from him that Lois is in trouble Superman tells him to stay as he fetches the police. In reality he jas gone to find her as his hero alias. He finds her but just as he's about to rescue her Lex threatens that he also has another certain someone (Martha Kent ) captured if he doesn't comply, seeing that Supes was often seen visiting her. Reluctantly Superman complies and Lois is freed from her bonds, yet Lex takes them as hostages to a room lined with Green Kryptonite. He leaves to his warehouse to check on progress of his prototype. Jimmy wonders where Clark has gone and goes to the police station himself.

On their date Bruce mentions to Nicola that he knows what she's up to. Nicola coldly replies what was he talking about and he mentions Lex's actions and her possible status as an accomplice This starts a spat leading to Nicola spilling that she is working against Lex (making her a foil to the blindly loyal Tess) and that her goal was to stop Lex from unleashing his plan. She already called a friend to help them yet when Bruce presses forward they see a kid (Jimmy) wandering around and concerned asks what's wrong. Jimmy replies that his friend was kidnapped and doesn't know what to do. Bruce leaves to find Clark while Nicola stays with Jimmy.

Nicole & Jimmy arrives back at the hotel and sees Tess Mercer waiting for them. She had been sent by Luthor to eliminate the witness. Nicola tries to talk her coworker out of harming an innocent kid but Tess refuses. They duel but Tess proves to be a surprisingly stronger fighter. Before Tess could come in for the kill a frightened Jimmy knocks her out cold from behind.

At HQ Lois & a weakened Superman attempt an escape. Lois believes its hopeless but Clark reminds her that Lex won't put them down for long. Batman arrives at the HQ and stealthily avoids the guards. He deduces the room Lois and Supes are locked up in and free them. Batman says thay a little birdie told him everything Lois and Clark grinning that it's Jimmy and the two superheroes decide to work together to bring down Lex.

Batman goes to save Martha (the warehouse fight) while Superman goes to confront Lex, dropping Lois off at the hotel where rhe police are waiting (Tess apprehended). Nicola researcher offers to take the reporter home but she declines, not wanting to sit back and watch Lex try to destroy the world. After giving her report to the police she and Nicole meet Steven Trevor (a descendant of Steve Trevor and an agent). Steven says he already sent his men to arrest Lex as they found that he waa behind the bombing. Lois sneaks away to see if she can help Clark.

Clark manages to catch uo to Lex at his lab and tries to reason with him. Lex says that he already unleashed his prototype as a test to see how many lives Superman is able to save. Superman argues that Lex has gone mad trying to play god, which he disagrees: "I'm not playing god I'm only playing favorites is all." Disgusted, Superman leaves and goes off to fight the prototype. As he does an entire line of trucks arrive...led by Nicola's special friend...

Lex realizes he has been found out and tries to destroy the evidence. Lois realize that the monster was made of Kryptonian DNA so she looks around for the spare Kryptonite and manages to grab a considerable long piece. Just as she does the place starts flooding and she runs. However she nearly drown. Fortunately she gets pulled out by a woman wearing armor. Lois doesn't even ask her name as she recognizes the W shaped emblem and blue&red color scheme. Lois gives the heroine the spear and tells her that she says she loves Clark. Wonder Woman nods and heads towards the direction of Superman.

Superman draws the monster out away from the city and is helped by Batman. Wonder Woman arrives with the spear. The final battles commences with Batman providing a distraction to lead the prototype away. Diana and Superman fight the beast but is soon overpowered. Clark takes the makeshift spear and goes off and manages to subdue the creature rather unwilling to kill it. However he gets blown up by a missile sent by the US military and everyone thinks he is dead.

To his he walks out of the smoke, banged up but alive, having narrowly escaped the blast. The monster has died, leaving Clark to wonders sadly if the monster could have been saved as it had no control over its actions. A relieved Lois embraces him as the other two supers look on in bittersweet triumph.

Several days later, the President, on the behest of the Helen Hunt Senator, gives Superman a full pardon. The world also starts to see rising of actual superheroes to take in the increase of villains having been inspired by the actions of the newly dubbed Trinity. The ending shows that long term exposure to Kryptonite left Lex without any hair, cementing his iconic look. He had also beem arrested and tried and ends up locked up at a mental institution on an insanity plea. His other henchmen & Tess are jailed and Luthor's company scrambles to do damage control. Bruce catches up to Clark and apologizes for being cold. They part ways on better terms before musing at the similarities between their alter egos. Diana teases that they make a great team and returns to the capital with her team. Bruce returns to Gotham and stops at the cemetery to place flowers on Jason Todd's grave, showing that he moved to the acceptance stage of grief. Jimmy also ends up getting a job as an intern for Daily Planet with Lois as his mentor this time. And Nicola goes to Gotham to work as a social worker and takes up a case: Cassandra Cain.

The final scene ends with Clark as Superman dressed up in Metropolis visiting a local orphanage/foster home, showing that at his core he truly does care about humanity despite all them haters. 👏👏 👏 happy ending everyone!!!

The movie ends with a montage of

- Cyborg walking around aimlessly in his hometown and finding a discarded newspaper highlighting the heroes' exploits and getting the idea to try becoming a hero himself

- Aquaman in his kingdom catching up with the surface world and becoming curious, and wonders about an alliance

- Barry standing in a hill in his city in costume. He grins and smiles, before pulling over his cowl and racing off

- And Lex, plotting an escape from his cell, suddenly sees a peculiarly tall guard looming over him. He makes a digging comment that the guard shrugs off. To his surprise the guard unlocks the cell and leads Lex out. Lex asks who the guard is; the guard slips off his disguises revealing a sapient Gorilla...Gorilla Grodd!

All This sets up a future plot point that wouldn't be explored until after Justice League where we're introduced to the cinematic LEGION OF DOOM!!! The prototype they fight is not doomsday but foreshadows the creation of Bizarro (who was one of the original members of the LoD).

With the actual Justice League movie we continue with the formation of the team through several subplots converging into one major story arc. The Helen Hunt Senator plays a huge role being their ally and influence on building the Hall of Justice. Plus more Brucola stuff because we need fun stuff in Batman, Tom King.

30 notes · View notes

scarletwinterxx · 4 years

Text

First and Last pt. 4

Hello! I was going to post earlier but got distracted. had to pause writing for bit bcs I was watching Hyuck’s vlive. Anywayyysss thank you for all the love and support. I hope you enjoy this chapter!

For my other works you can check them out here, and for my other story series’ you can check them out here.

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2020 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

PART ONE || PART TWO || PART THREE || PART FOUR || FINALE || BONUS

“Do you think he’ll like it?”

“He said he likes tiramisu so yea” Jeno answered

“But I don’t want it to seem like I’m bribing him with food. Maybe I should just-“

“Y/N-ah, it’s fine. Jaemin will love it. And he’s not really mad at you, you know. He’s just sad and disappointed” Jeno assured the girl who was currently fiddling with the cake she was holding.

When Y/N came to Jeno, asking him for help he didn’t hesitate to say yes. He knew the situation was a bit complicated considering his friends are not on speaking terms at the moment.

He could only imagine the tension over at Haechan and Renjun’s dorm.

“You know that doesn’t make it any better” y/n deadpanned, the boy sitting across her just shooting her one of his famous eye smile

“Don’t worry about it, where is Haechan by the way?” Jeno asked

“He still has two more classes, I had to call him this morning to make sure he actually got out of bed” y/n stated, Jeno was just smiling to himself as Y/n speaks about his friend.

Even if their relationship was pretend at the beginning, it looks like it isn’t anymore. He’s just not sure if those two were aware of it.

The first time he saw y/n and Haechan together, he didn’t even think twice about their relationship. They just clicked so easily it seemed like they’ve been dating for a long time.

All those times the two were together, it wouldn’t even cross anyone’s mind that it was fake.

They brought out sides of each other, better sides, without even realizing it.

“I should go over and see if he’s okay but I don’t want to bother Renjun, I’m sure I’m the last person he would want to see” The girl mumbled, she looked so down and ridden with guilt

“That’s not true, he just needs some time. He’ll come around” Jeno said then shot Y/N a comforting smile. The two didn’t notice Jaemin approaching the bench they were sitting on

“Hello” Jaemin said making the pair jump in surprise. Y/N immediately stood up and bowed her head, holding out the box towards Jaemin

“I’m really really sorry about making you upset and lying to you. I understand if you don’t want to be friends with me anymore, here’s a little peace offering to lessen your sadness atleast for a bit” Y/N said, her voice getting lower as she speaks more

Jaemin leaned his head down, standing in line of Y/N’s sight

“My eyes are not on the floor though” the blue haired boy chuckled

“Sorry”

“You need to stop apologizing for everything, like I said I wasn’t mad” Jaemin shot the girl a small smile then accepting the gift she was handing over

“Sorr- I mean... Yea...” Y/N stuttered, trying to stop herself from saying sorry again

“Don’t worry, thanks for this. You didn’t have to but thank you”

“I really do apologize for making you upset. That was never the intention we had when we did it” Y/N told him and also Jeno

“May I know why? Why did you do it?”

“Hyuck... he just doesn’t want people to give him the pity looks anymore. I would never understand what it’s like to be in his place, no one should ever know what it’s like to be cheated on. He just got tired of being reminded of that everyday”

“We don’t even talk about it” Jaemin mumbled, a pout forming on his lips as he recall if they ever mentioned Lia in any conversation they’ve had. Renjun was very adamant about never speaking her name ever again so he can’t remember much

“I know but you also have been treating him with baby gloves, Hyuck won’t break you know. He might have been upset, sad and broken about it but he’s also trying to get better. If you tiptoe around him then he’ll feel like he’s not making any progress” Y/N explained, the two boys now understanding more

“Did he tell you this?” Jeno asked, wondering if he should have listened more to his friend or if he could have done something more

“No, but I can see it. He didn’t have to tell me. That’s why I agreed to do it, not because I wanted to make Lia jealous or to fool you guys but because I saw he was tired of tiptoeing too. He needed some room to breath, if having a fake girlfriend is what it takes to get that then why not”

"Don’t get me wrong, it’s not like he was using me. If anything we really helped each other out. These past few months have been an adventure compared to the past 20 years of my life, I’m thankful for that”

After Y/N’s explanation, they finally get why.

“Thank you, too” Jaemin said surprising Y/N

“For what?” she asked back

“You understood our bestfriend more than we did. You saw right through him and helped him when he needed it and he didn’t even say a word, thank you for being there for him”

Y/N smiled warmly at him, getting a little teary eyed

“Ya don’t cry, Haechan will kill me if he sees you crying” Jaemin said making the girl laugh

“Thank you”

“So we’re good now? Shall we eat this cake? Thanks by the way. Now I’m going to prove how Tiramisu cake is so much better” Jaemin said, the atmosphere significantly lifting.

To say Y/N feels nervous is an understatement, she’s currently standing outside Renjun and Hyuck’s dorm waiting for the door to open.

When it finally did, she felt like her heart skipped and she lost all the words she was about to say,

“What are you doing here? Hyuck’s not here yet” Renjun answered, his voice devoid of any emotion making Y/N feel more nervous but she knew she had to do it.

“I actually came to talk to you” she told the boy, honestly speaking she was expecting to have the door slammed on her face but Renjun just opened the door wider and gestured for her to go in.

“You can sit, you know” Renjun said when he saw Y/N standing awkwardly in the middle of the living room

Renjun sat on the seat across from Y/N, still sporting a blank look on his face.

Y/N took a deep breath before speaking.

“I fully understand why you got mad, I’m sorry for lying. I do feel bad for fooling you like that-”

“Then why do it?” Renjun asked, never the one to beat around the bush always straight to the point

“Hyuck. And some selfish reason I had, trying to feel something more”

Renjun raised his brow at this, a signal for Y/N to explain some more

“It was never his intention to hurt you guys, he just needed a little more room to breath. He does appreciate you caring for him, especially you. He never tells you guys but he does. He cherishes you all”

“I had to watch him be so down for months, did you know he ran away?” to this Y/N shook her head, this story new to her

“You already know he never confronted Lia, we were all telling him to talk to her and that he didn’t deserve to be treated like that but he was waiting for her to say her side. Then when Lia broke up with him, making it look like he was the bad guy, he just ran away”

“Last summer, we thought he just went home but when we decided to visit him his mom told us he hasn’t been home all summer. He went back to Jeju for awhile, by himself. He only came back after we went there and literally had to drag him” as Renjun retold the story, a little smile appears on the side of his face.

“He looked so lost, I’ve never seen him like that. I wish I never see him like that ever again. That’s why we’ve been very cautious around him”

“You’re a good friend, sounds like you helped him alot” Y/N said

“Looks like he doesn’t want that help though”

“I needed the help, I didn’t know I did but apparently I do. I’ve always been alone, I’m never anyone’s first choice. No one would ever ask me first to be their partner in a project or ask me to go out and hang out. I was always that girl in the background, only being asked so it won’t get awkward. When Donghyuck asked me to be his girlfriend, well fake girlfriend, my first question was why me”

At this, it was Y/N turn to smile

“Out of everyone in that room, he saw me and somehow thought ‘Oh I pick her’. When we did that project last semester, I was already expecting I was going to do it alone but suddenly Hyuck was sitting next to me going on about when should we start doing the project, my first thought was ‘someone picked me’“

Y/N was fiddling with her fingers, a habit she developed when she gets anxious

“It takes strength to admit your weaknesses, I admit I’m not the best when it comes to making friends or expressing myself. It’s a big fault of mine, I overthink a lot. I worry over things I shouldn’t be worrying about. I’m a mess” Y/N said

Renjun now understand why she was saying.

Out of everyone, she understood what it feels like to be a mess. They all were but Y/N saw the mess Haechan was trying so hard to hide. She saw how he was struggling but unlike the rest of them, she didn’t pressure him into getting better. She just let him take the steps he needed until Hyuck felt okay again.

“Hyuck knows when to give me space when I need it, he reminds me not to worry about things I absolutely have no control over”

“He gives you that room to breath” Renjun finished the sentence for her, the girl nodding her head gently

“It still gets hard at times but now I know I have someone with me”

While the two were having a serious talk they didn’t hear the door open, Donghyuck entering the dorm room and hearing his bestfriend and the girl he likes having what looks like to be a very serious talk.

“Sometimes you just need to get lost to find yourself again. I get lost a lot, now I met someone who can anchor me down. Am I a bad person for putting that on him?” Y/N asked, a confused look crossing Donghyuck’s face having no clue what they were talking about

“No, he looks like he actually likes it” Renjun chuckled

“I’m sorry, I really am. You didn’t deserve being lied to” Y/N said, apologizing to the boy sitting across from her. For a while Renjun didn’t say anything, the tension rising inside the room

“Do you like him? Like for real?” Renjun asked, Hyuck unconsciously holding his breath waiting for Y/N’s answer.

“I do”

There are moments when it's just the two of them that tells Hyuck she feels the same way about him, but then it goes as fast as it came. He wanted so bad to talk to her about it but he didn’t want to pressure Y/N into anything.

Things started out complicated, their whole relationship wasn’t the typical one. Hyuck knew there are a lot of things to set straight, he’s just finding the right time to do so.

“But this isn’t about us right now. We can resolve that later” Y/N said with a gentle smile, “He needs his bestfriend more than he needs a girlfriend”

“I think right now he prefers you more” Renjun said, Hyuck held in a chuckle. He could already imagine the blush on Y/N cheeks

“I- well... I mean we’re friends”

“What happens to the two of you?”

“I thought I just said this isn’t about us, I’m trying to fix your friendship” Y/N mumbled, Renjun letting out a little laugh before speaking again

“He won’t get rid of me that easily, I just needed the time. As much as we fight and bicker, I don’t think I can live without him. Don’t tell him though”

Little did Renjun knew, Hyuck was standing near by waiting.

“I really am sorry” Y/N said once again

“I understand”

“Now back to my question, so what happens to the two of you. I’m pretty sure Haechan like-” before Renjun could say more Hyuck decided this is a good time to make his presence known

“What is happening here?” Hyuck saw Y/N jump a bit on her seat at the sound of his voice, the girl turning to where he was standing. Acting as if he just arrived and didn’t hear the conversation that just took place between the two.

“I can feel my ears burning, are you talking about me?” Hyuck asked again

“Only the embarrassing stuff you’ve done” Renjun replied, any tension that was there during that party was long gone.

“You two must have been here all day then” Hyuck said then took the seat beside Y/N,

“I heard you bought Jaemin cake” the boy tells Y/N

“As a peace offering”

“Where’s my peace offering?” Renjun asked jokingly, “Uh- well... I thought about how to approach you and a cake didn’t sound like a good plan” Y/N explained seriously

“He’s kidding, he likes hotpot though. If you ever need him to do something, try that” Hyuck told the girl, she just chuckled at his advice

“Stop exposing me like that”

After Y/N and Renjun’s talk, all was well again. The trio had dinner then decided to call it a night, Hyuck volunteering to walk Y/N back to her dorm even when the girl insisted she can just walk alone

“I can go home by myself, it’s been a long day”

“Sorry I can’t hear you” Hyuck said as he throw the take away bags they just finished, Renjun already in the kitchen clearing the rest of the dishes while quietly listening to the two

“I said I can walk home alone” this time Y/N pulled on Hyuck’s shoulder and spekaing directly into Hyuck’s ear, meanwhile the boy just smiles at Y/N’s action

Renjun rolling his eyes at the two but also smiling at them. They were perfect for each other, he thought.

“I heard you this time but deciding not to listen still” Hyuck said then walked to the door, already putting on his shoes

“I swear one day, I’m going to hit you” Y/N mumbled under her breath but the two boys heard it. Renjun laughing at her statement while Hyuck had a smirk on his lips, “And like I said before, I don’t mind being hit on as long as it’s-” Y/N eyes widden, already knowing what Hyuck was about to say so she cut him off

“Okay okay okay, fine. Let’s go. Bye, Renjun” she waved at the boy, Renjun saying a quick goodbye

After the two were out the door, he could hear the faint sound of their playful argument. Y/N must feel that comfortable around Hyuck, he has only ever seen her like that when it’s with Hyuck.

With this thought he pulled his phone out, quickly calling his other friends

“I’d give it 2 weeks, loser treats the winners” Renjun said as Jaemin picks up the call, he didn’t even need to explain

On the other side of the line, Jaemin was smiling widely. Jeno saw this and asked who was on the phone so Jaemin put it on speaker

“I say a week” Jaemin answered

“What are we talking about?” Jeno asked, “How long will it take for Y/N and Haechan to get together for real” Renjun explained,

The other two already understood that Hyuck, Renjun and Y/N made up.

“I don’t think we should be betting on this” Jeno mumbled, meanwhile Renjun rolled his eyes at this statement

“Just say your guess, Jen” Renjun deadpanned

“Injun said two weeks, I said 1″ Jaemin told the boy, “Three” Jeno answered

“Weeks? no way, they like each other too much”

“Day. Three days” Jeno clarified, feeling confident about his guess

“It’s on”

168 notes · View notes

darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years

Text

She [8]

Warnings: non-consent sex (series); violence

This is dark! Steve and explicit. 18+ only.

Series Synopsis: Steve Rogers’ life is turned upside down by a reporter.

Chapter Summary: Steve’s plan comes together.

Note: Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Steve

Everything was ready. Well, as ready as it could be after a week of work. A week interspersed with her. Every night he climbed the escape and watched her. Imagined all the things he could do once she was there. Added to his list of to do.

He walked around the basement and preened over his hard work. He couldn’t get a real bed just yet so the small futon would have to do until the press retreated. He continued around the cool space and poked his finger through the hook embedded in the ceiling. It would hold her.

He brushed his fingers over the curtain across the bathroom door. It looked barely more than a closet amid the mostly empty space. The only other piece of furniture were the plastic drawers. A stack of three filled with everything he needed.

A thrill went through him as he recalled his trip to the sex store. He’d never been to one before, only the naughty comic shop back before the war. Bucky had tempted him into the shady shop but his cheeks had burned too much to look for long. He didn’t care as much these days.

He shut the door behind him and climbed the stairs. He closed the door at the top and lingered in the kitchen as he watched the numbers glowing on the stove. Would she be early? His toe tapped and he smiled to himself. He could barely wait.

The knock came and he wanted to lunge across the counter. Instead, he rounded it and smoothed his hair before he grabbed the handle. He pulled the door open and she was there. She looked up at him as she played with the strap of her bag. He could see himself taking it and wrapping it around her neck…

“Hey,” He smiled. “I’m happy you came.”

“No problem,” She answered as he waved her in.

She looked around his kitchen. The same discerning manner as before. Her eyes took in every inch of the place and yet when she looked at him, she was almost reticent.

“Can I get you something? I have some instant coffee hidden around here or some tea.” He offered.

“Oh, no, I couldn’t bother you…” Her voice trailed off. “Are you sure about this? It could do more harm than good. The general public is fickle.”

“Second thoughts?” He wondered.

“No, I just-- Fair warning, is all,” She shrugged. “You know, I didn’t mean to blindside you the first time. I was just--”

“Doing your job. I know... I knew that.” He beckoned her out to the living room.

He’d arranged the chairs as they had been last time; facing each other beside the little fireplace. He took his and she took hers. He watched her place her purse beside the chair and she pulled out her phone and the same worn notebook. She was deliberate as she got herself in order.

“Again, I will be recording this.” She said. “Do you consent?”

“Yes,” He said and her index finger tapped the screen. “So…” She took a breath. He was amused to find her nervous. She fiddled with her pen as she sat forward in the chair.

“Can’t we just have a conversation? I think if we just talk, it would be much better.” He intoned. “More natural.”

“Yeah, that’s what this is. Just a conversation,” She assured. “So, you done any drawing?”

He smiled. He had taken out his sketchpad to etch out the basement and to write his list of needs. He leaned on his elbow.

“No. But I’ve been thinking about it.” He replied. “With all that’s been going on, it’s been difficult but it’s really not that unusual. I’ve always felt like people watch me. Like they expect so much of me and I think in a way, I’ve grown used to just doing what they want.”

She nodded thoughtfully and wrote.

“Well, I think I have to ask. Any more thoughts on retirement?”

“Actually, the last few weeks, it’s crossed my mind. A lot of what you’ve said has just stuck there, you know? It would be nice to just have a hobbies. Not a job, not duties, just what I want.” He let out a breath. “I don’t think it’s selfish of me to want that and it doesn’t mean I don’t want people to be safe but I’d like to be able to have both.”

“Fishing, you said.” As she continued to write blindly.

“Well, yeah,” He nodded. “And a few other things. I’ve actually been working on a sort of project this week. Something to help me clear my mind. Decide where to go from here.”

“A project? And what would this project be?”

“It’s a bit hard to explain.” He said. “I think it would be easier to show you.”

“Show me?” She perked up. “Uh, okay?”

“It’s downstairs. A pretty big undertaking but it’s coming along,” He slid forward in his seat. “Would you like to see?”

“If you don’t mind.” She stood after he did and placed her phone on her notepad in her arm. He ushered her ahead of him and pointed her back to the kitchen. “You’ve really done quite the number on this place.” She glanced around the kitchen as she entered. “Did you do it yourself or--”

“Most of it. I had some help here and there.” He watched as she felt the marble of the counter top.

“Well, I think your living room is bigger than my apartment,” She kidded. “You ever think of doing that? Fixing up houses?”

“Hmm, yeah, it’s kinda… what I’ve been doing.” He said. “It’s just through there.”

He gestured to the basement door. She turned and stepped towards it. She paused and he nodded.

“Go on,” He urged as he neared slowly.

She spun back and opened it carefully. She started her descent and he followed. When she reached the bottom, she stared at the heavy door. She rested her hand on the handle and paused.

“This is quite the door,” She remarked. “Heavy.”

“Yeah, a pain,” He said. He was on the step right behind her, almost right against her. She pushed into the next room as if she could feel him. As if she could hear his thoughts.

She strode inside but stopped short at the barren room. She tilted her head and looked at the lonely futon. She recoiled in confusion and turned back to him. The door closed and clicked. The lock whirred as he pressed his thumb to the censor; an old lock repurposed from a safe allotted him by Fury.

“What--” Her voice died as he stood across from her. His chest rose and fell victoriously. She blinked and her lips parted. “Steve…”

“You know they suspended me for two weeks.” He said as his smile faded. “Because of you. Say I can go back in a couple days but this keeps up and it might be indefinite.”

“Steve,” She repeated and grabbed her phone from atop her notebook. “What are you--” She stopped the recording and dialed. The speaker blared with a dead tone.

“There’s a jammer in the wall. It won’t work.” He explained. “Soundproofing too so you can be as loud as you want.”

“Is this some sort of joke?” She scoffed. “It’s not funny.”

“I thought a lot about our interview. About what you said. And I did exactly what you suggested.” He walked slowly around her and she turned with him; nervous, frightened. She hugged her notebook to her chest. “I found a hobby. Something to keep me busy.”

“I don’t--” She seemed to choke on her words and he heard the quaver in her voice. “Please--”

“Shhh,” He hushed. “You made me realise so much more.” He continued to circle her. “I am lonely and tired. Even if they do let me come back, I’m not so sure I want to. After all I’ve done, you think people would be a little more grateful, but no, they let some devious reporter twist my words.”

“I only wrote what you said.” Her eyes searched him desperately.

“You provoked me. You wanted me to get mad.” He neared her and she backed up until she was against the wall. “You wanted me to snap. To give you a story. Because I’m the only way you can make your name.”

“No, no--”

“Shut up,” He grabbed her chin. “You’re done talking. It’s my turn.”

“Please--”

“You have one more chance to keep your mouth shut or I’m going to make you,” He squeezed and she whimpered. He tore her notebook away from her with his other hand and her phone cracked on the floor. “Did you tell anyone you were here?”

She stared at him then slowly nodded. His hand slipped to her throat and she flinched.

“Who?” He asked as he listened to her heartbeat pick up.

“P-Poppy, my editor,” She whispered.

He laughed. He shook his head and released her.

“I know when you’re lying. I can hear it.” He jabbed her chest. “Ba-bum, ba-bum, ba-bum.” He imitated her pulse. “You didn’t tell anyone, did you?”

She didn’t move or speak. Her eyes betrayed her.

“And you came in the back so no one knows you’re here.” He put his hands on his hips. “You’ve been hanging around downtown, sniffing around those whores. That’s a dangerous neighbourhood. Not unusual for girls to go missing, and one who doesn’t belong there? Not a surprise at all.”

“Someone will look for me,” She rasped as she touched her throat.

“So,” He grinned. “You really think they’ll find you?”

She was shaking and he was hard. He only just realised it as the pain settled in his core.

“You know they won’t and you know you’re stuck down here.” He crossed his arms. “You know it’s all your fault. You did this. This is what you deserve.”

“Steve--”

“You speak again and I’m going to knock a few teeth out. A pity because I like to have something pretty to look at but I don’t need you facing me.” He warned. “And that’s your first lesson; be quiet. Second: listen.”

She inhaled. He saw the glimmer of anger beneath her fear. His jeans were unbearably tight. He shifted his weight and dropped his arms. He cracked his neck and turned to the small plastic drawers. He knew she would try it. He laughed when he heard her shoes scuff on the floor.

He caught her as she hammered against the door. As she tried to twist the handle helplessly. He pulled her back and spun her away. He tossed her across the room and she stumbled onto her knees before the futon. She grunted as she struggled to get back to her feet.

He turned back to the drawers and opened the top one. He pulled out a pair of leather cuffs joined by a large metal link. He faced her and held them up. She tried to dodge past him but he easily stopped her with a single arm. He pinned her; her back to him as he crushed her between him and the wall.

“I’m going to turn you around and if you try anything else, I’m going to break your wrist. Then I’m going to cuff you anyway.” He growled. “As you scream in pain.”

She stilled, her hands still pressed to the wall. He could feel her trembling. He rubbed his crotch against her and he heard her heartbeat peak again. She could feel him too. The heat radiated off her body and fed his own.

He pushed away from her carefully.

“Turn around.” He ordered. She obeyed, reluctantly. “Hands in front.”

She held her hands out and he cuffed them. He lifted them above her head and led her to the hook. He clasped it through the link and turned the reel until she was on her toes.

“That’s it,” He purred as he backed away.

Her eyes flashed and she kicked out at him. He caught her foot and felt the fragile bones of her ankle in his grip. He tightened his hold on her and she cried out.

“A little more and you won’t be able to stand on your own,” He snarled. “Not that you’ll be doing much of that.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” She cried out. “You’re crazy.”

“You made me this way,” He let go of her and spun her violently. “You!” He stopped her so she faced him. “Because all I can think of is you. Of how fucking mad you make me. Of how… I need you.”

“Don’t do this, please,” She lowered her voice. Pathetic. “If you let me go, I won’t tell. I’ll--”

The hook clinked against the link as his hand caused her head to snap back. She was stunned, he could see it in her eyes, and slightly dazed. The corner of her lip began to bleed and her cheek was already starting to swell. She tried to shake out the pain but groaned and stilled herself.

“Shut. Up.” He hissed. “That was nothing. You understand? That was me swatting a fly.”

Her lips quivered as her eyes watered. His cock was throbbing. He stepped back and admired her hanging from the ceiling. Her head lolled as she spat a mouthful of blood and nodded. He bent to gather up her broken phone and the notepad. He placed them atop the drawers and opened the second drawer. He didn’t know what to try first.

#Steve Rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers x reader #she #series #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #au #mcu #marvel #captain america

305 notes · View notes

chemicallady · 3 years

Text

Dr and Dr Reid

Part I , Part II.

A/N : Hello everybody! It's me again with the second part of my Dr&Dr series! I hope you will enjoy it! If you like this idea, tell me something about it. If is too boring, I’ll moving on another subject ^^

Couple: Spencer Reid x Researcher!Reader

Category: little angst

Warnings: descriptions of dead bodies and decomposition.

Summary: BAU is involved in a casa in Golconda, Nevada. Reader is an expert in tools' marks for the local FBI settlement and Spencer isn't aware of it.

*****

January 17, 2007

Golconda, Nevada.

After a seven hours trip by car, you are already done. God only knows how are you supposed to work after that. Nevada’s unpleasant weather is drying your lungs breath by breath, while you’re reaching the area under federal surveillance. Your supervisor have asked you to keep the tools’ marks on a dead body in order to determinate the object used on the victim because, if you will be lucky, you eventually use the results for an article or your thesis. If the Feds wont have any problem with that.

The point is that... Well. The victim is not like you have figured out. You are an expert on skeletal remains but in front of you there is a full torso, coverd in tattoos and with a huge wound on the top of the sternal bone. No head, no legs or arms but a lot of dead meat. The view is awful but the smell is the worst. It’s taking your breath away.

You put a hand over your mouth and apologise, but you need a moment. Leaving your kit under the tend, you move some steps along the path and start to breath slowly with your mounth. It's too hot for your first dismembered body, but you can't let go this opportunity. Some agents are already look at you with a glaze of pity and you can't accept it.

You are strong, you can do it.

Or at least you can try, you attended a lot of authopsy before.

Back to the tend, your supervisor is talking with an old man and an awsome guy, both with the FBI badge. You look at them while you're wearing your gloves and this beautiful, fit special agent keeps his sunglasses off and look back to you.

With a blush, you start to work. The coroner gives you the permission to take some photos and apply a paste on the cervical bone and on the broken omerous. You are waiting it to be dry when the two agents approce you.

《 Hi ma'am. I am Special Agent Morgan and this is Special Agent Gideon. Can you tell us which tool was used on the victim?》

《Ah-Well; I need some minutes more but I believe that is more that just one....》 you slow while you're speaking, looking at the guy who are join the party right now. 《....tool.》

Morgan follows your eyes and looks at Reid, who seems to be really surprised by your presence. 《Hi pretty boy, don’t be shy. We are speaking with the expert to find out what was used on this poor guy. She is... I am sorry, I didn't catch you name.》

Because he didn’t ask. You open your mounth to answer but Spence is faster. 《She is (y/f/n). She is a PhD candidate at UNLV.》

《You really know everything . , says a young agent, following him. She is a slim brunette, sassy. You like her at the first sight.

Spencer blushes, 《I met her several months ago.》 He is speaking like you aren’t in there with them and that piss you off a lot. Then finally he speaks to you directly. 《Hi (y/n). Is a pleasure to meet you again.》

You are speechless. 《Yeah, whatever》 you cut the conversation, took off the paste and look at the marks closely. You dont wan’t to meet Spencer’s eyes because the afternoon is too hot and dry to pretend to be nice on him and faking a smile. 《In my opinion the murderer used two tools for dismember the victim's body: a serrated knife and a hand saw. I can be more specific after a visual confrontation if you ask to》

《Thank you miss (y/s/n), you are really helpful.》

Morgan smiles to you and you answer as well, before rise up and go to your supervisor, ready to reach the morgue for working on that traces.

Gideon moves on the car and Spencer is left with Emily and Morgan. 《She hates you》, she says, with a smirk. 《What did you do?》

For the first time in a while, he seems speechles. «Nothing», is the short answer he gives to them. ‘I was an asshole’ would be the real one. Or at last, what he feels.

****

You hear that the criminal- the guy who is called Unsub by the FBI’s agents- had taken a couple of hostages before disappear again. One of them is the sceriff herself. Than, you recive a call from you supervisor, who ask you to go to another location in the nearby, supporting the BAU squad after they clean the scene.

«There are probably human remains involved. Go and check with Supervisor Special Agent Hotchner.»

You start to believe that maybe the FBI needs you or maybe you need the FBI if even the boss is so hot like Aaron Hotchner is. You are young and always look at the bright side, even while you are keeping humans ribs off a lot of handmade garden decorations and it’s so gross even for you. You love Halloween and macabre arts project, but this is too far.

And Spencer is here as well. The two of you don’t have a proper conversation since you have reached Golconda because both of you are working, but now, in the middle of the country side, while you are puking your guts out, on the burned grass of the garden, he is the one who offers help to keep your hair back.

This isn’t you first crime scene, but the best part of your job is working on cold cases, if it’s need. You are a researcher (almost), a lab rat, not an investigator. You are use to bones and sometimes mummies from the desert, not to the harsh smell of blood and rotten meat which infested the shed in the backyard. There is a surgical room and a body inside, but they saved the sheriff at least.

A light breeze is caressing your face and makes you feel better. You are greatful to Spencer when he offers a bottle of water to you.

«When the work comes to the lab it looks nicer», you tell him, receiving a soft smile in return. «If it’s true that I’ll never forget the first time, I’ll be ashamed forever...»

«You don’t have. It’s a normal response of your body in front of a situation which is fondamental -»

«Thank you Spencer. I approciate your scientific enthusiasm, but.... Chill out.»

You sit on the ground, tying your hair and keep a huge breath. «How’s going on?»

«Better. Thank you for the approciation Dr Reid. You should go back to work before your sexy boss notices that you are wasting your time on me.»

«I am not wasting-wait. Did you just say that Hotch is sexy?»

«Hell, he is.»

Spencer looks confused for a moment, after looking around him, maybe to spot the subject of the conversation. That gives you time to reach for a chewing gum on your pocket.

The silence between the two of us is really unpleseant, but you dont have nothing else to say. Is Spencer’s turn and he doesn’t disappoint you. Not at all.

«I know why you are mad at me.»

«Do you know, Dr Reid?»

He sighs. «Can you stop, please? I dont like when you are so formal with me, I believed that we had passed it.»

«Yeah, well. You’ve stopped answer my letters and phone calls without having the decency to give me a solid explanation.... So guess what? We hadn’t passed over anything.»

He lowers his head, aware that he is in the wrong. «I just.... My job is demanding...»

A small, bitter laught leaves your lips. «You really believe that you’re the only one in the world who actually has a demanding job? C’mon you can find a better excuse. If you cared, you’d answered. Aren’t you able to write a message? with... 3 bachelors and 3 PhDs?»

You’re being mean, you know that, but he hurts your feelings. You two had 3 intensive months of letter’s exchange. You wrote the first one a week after you got his address at the conference in Vegas. A four pages letter, in which you explained to him your PhD project and shared with him throughts and stuffs. He replayed with a 14 pages letter. That’s how it started. He told you about his mom’s issues, his scholar experience and how was growing up in Vegas. You shared with him your experinces, moving away from home, how your family is, how you are fond of cats and dogs. You talked about your own pet, with him ...

That’s how you two became intimate.

It escalated fast.

After a month, you gave him your number and the two of you started to call each others, first twice a week, than more and more. Even just to sei ‘hi’ and know about how the other feels in that specific moment. From you, it was enough to hear his voice to be happier.

He helped you in the bad days and made the good days better.

And you fell from him, because Spencer is a nice guy. At least, he looked like a nice guy untill letters and calls stopped. And he disappeared from your life in a couple of weeks. You hadn’t a news from him since ten days before Golconda’s case. The Destiny is involved for sure, because you believed that you wont see him again.

But there you are, sitting next to him. In silence.

Is too much for you. And no, he doesn’t know why you are so mad at him. You are mad at yourself, because you don’t let people in, usually. You were hurt so much in the past that know you are tired of being everybodies fooled.

Guys are nice ‘till they are not, your mom always says.

That’s true. Men are all the same in the end.

That’s why you get on your feet, taking away your gloves. You almost forgot you’re still wearing them. «I need to go back to the morgue. Bye, Dr Reid.»

«Is better this way. (y/n)», he says, in a rush. You look at him standing fast and you rise a elbow. No clue about what he is saying. «Maybe my job is not too demanding for me.. But it will be for you. Trust me. Is better for you not being involved with me... I wasn’t aware that our relationship could be that deep.»

«Relationship? We don’t have anything. This is so stupid and... Selfish!», you almost yell, angry at him because it doesn’t make any sense! You calm down when you feel a glaze on you. SA Morgan is looking at you two, but he immediatly turns away when you notice him. «Have a nice day, Dr Reid.»

He watches you helplessly as you walk away. «Dont say anything», the warns Morgan, who is approching him with a smirk.

«Can I say that she is on fire and you look dumb, pretty boy?»

Spencer sighs, scrolling his shoulders. «It’s a long story.»

«Yeah? Such a pity that we don’t have time. Gideon found our man, we need to move now», he says, before teasing Spencer a little. «You’ll have time for your love business after we close the case.»

«There is no ‘love business’, Morgan. We are... fine. Friends. I guess we were...»

«You sure? That little bird probably thinks otherwise», Mogan says, claps him on the shoulder.

Spencer sighs again, looking you in the car, waiting the coroner to go back to the morgue. For a second, your glazes meet, but you look so... deeply hurt. And he understands that- again- he makes a mistakes on another, just because he wants to preserve someone who is dear to him.

But yes, he has no time now, but he have to apologize to you. And he will.

As long as they close the case.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid #criminal minds ff #criminal minds x reader

37 notes · View notes

leanarg · 4 years

Photo

((Warning!: I might have let my imagination run a little too freely haha but I think it’s not so bad... Hope you enjoy reading it and then please forget about it ;P Thanks! <3 [5.4K] ))

Practice Challenge Sense of duty

Everything was gray. Everything always is at this hour of the day. Dozens of messy draft notes on my desk waiting to be finished, but I knew if I turned even for a second I could miss this.

I stared into the rising sun in the distance, it looks as if an enormous golden eye was spying on us. It’s rays somehow starting to paint the sky of soothing lavender and brilliant amber colors that reflected on every building tall enough to escape the shadows; fortunately, The Globe building qualified among them.

It’s not like I owned the building or anything but just being able to work here has always -since last year- made me feel a sort of pride, and looking out at the city at dawn while the strong smell of coffee flooded the entire office, has become a special habit of mine to reinforce that feeling.

While traffic sounds managed to filter from outside through the thick, fancy glass of the building I’ve always found it hard to fight the childish impulse to try to spot any delivery truck among all the vehicles that look so small from up here. Our bulldog edition was printed and sold to the distributors the previous night to be out first thing in the morning and by now the Daily should be already in the stands, stores, and even at the front doors of our subscribers for them to know what’s going on in this and other countries. Like a window to the world. It makes the long process worthwhile.

That’s right, physic solid newspapers. I sighed. What I wouldn’t do to see my name printed on a broadsheet, under the tailpiece of a “hard news” story and announced on the first-page headline. That’s the dream, The goal.

But surprisingly, in that particular moment, all those thoughts were replaced by something else.

Herson Grant, editor in chief of The Globe - or like I call him, dad -summoned us to give us “off the record” information. We got the news we all, in some way, knew they were coming. Illèa’s prince had reached the age required to have a selection and since his scandalous engagement brake off last year, the country was expectant. There hadn’t been an official announcement yet, but as press, we had our sources.

We were told to be prepared for the changes this big event would signify for the newspaper. Of course, as soon as the selection starts, or even before, the complete broadsheets will be covered by it. From “Business” to “Society” and of course “Politics”.

The Selection was important for every Illéa citizen in one way or another, that was made clear years ago by the general shock caused by the news of Queen Anjali canceling hers. I remembered reading about it on some old newspaper editions. The country was divided; some, supported her demonstration of independence and capacity to make decisions even against what's expected, and others organized strikes to show their discontent.

I thought Her Majesty’s decision might have some selfishness in it, considering a lot of people were affected by it, but when it comes to putting duty and love on the same scale…

Is choosing love selfish?

I wasn’t the most capable person to answer that question, considering that every guy I’d dated in college had ended up in horrible disappointments.

“You definitely have a thing for jerks, Lea” Liv said to me once before suggesting I should date the guys I would never even consider dating, as a solution, but honestly I preferred to focus on my career and all the things I wanted to achieve professionally.

That way the only one who could disappoint me is myself. And I wasn’t going to let that happen.

The news of the upcoming event was circling my head, causing uncertainty and anticipation feelings inside. As an entertainment reporter and writer on the digital platform of The Globe, this whole thing was going to give me a lot of work to do. The public would want to know everything. And I would have to know about dresses, sponsors, twos applying, twos not applying and

If I listen carefully I will be able to hear the crashing sound of all those famous relationships breaking. I laughed for myself.

I might have been joking about it, but my brain was already listing the prospects and the interviews I would have to schedule in the next few weeks. But, my mind went even further this time, I caught it considering an application. I wouldn’t have to write about gossips and chatter but most of all, the idea of taking part in one of the most important events of our time suddenly sounded incredibly appealing.

All the lives, all the stories. The real stories.

My curiosity was taking control.

“Leana.” I recognized the annoyed voice behind me, interrupting my thoughts.

“Yes, Rita.” I turned, her exasperated face didn’t surprise me.

Rita was my editor, one of the several ones around here, she was in charge of the digital side of The Global, more specifically the “socials” department. She was a non-natural blond, middle-aged woman, and not very fond of me.

“Just came from the upper floor, the boss wants to see you.”

I smiled on the inside. Her common ways with me used to be unsettling a year ago but with time they had become somehow amusing for me. “Can I just mention, that new tone of yellow on your hair... compliments your skin tone?” I said, keeping the overdue polite tone, but always careful of not giving any hint of sarcasm.

She had a slight moment of content on her face but then she switched for a glare. “Didn’t you hear me?”

I snickered, I had an appointment for an interview and no time to get on further with the teasing. “I do, but…” I frowned and stopped to check my watch, my eyes widened at the hour. My father was always aware of my exact work schedule, so it didn’t make sense he was sending for me when he knew I wasn’t even supposed to be here anymore.

I started, more to myself than to her. “That’s strange, my dad knew-”

“No, girl, I’m talking about the real boss.” She interrupted me with an amused expression. Of course, she had intentionally hidden that little detail to mock me.

I wonder how she knew I wasn’t going to tell my father about her using the words “real boss” in that sentence. He would definitely take it as a disrespect to the position he had earned with years of work. Though some might think it wasn’t that hard for him.

During his time as a reporter, he had given Maxwell Loyd, - the head chief, and owner of the editorial-, a lot of profits with his excellent nose for scandals and exclusives.

Unlike me, my father used to have his vocation among the showbiz world. He’d got a certain charm, the eloquence to talk and enchant people, so the celebrities used to spill the whole tea about their personal lives and relationships to him, just like that. Probably that same irresistible charm was what made my mom fall for him.

I know, more than a charm sounds like a superpower.

Anyhow, I didn’t think the later discredited his achievements. I liked to think I have inherited some of it, but the society and entertainment world were not the kind of journalism I’d dreamt to do and I wasn’t planning to keep doing it.

“Coffee?” Mr. Loyd offered with serious countenance. I had been sitting in front of his desk for almost 5 minutes and he hadn’t said anything. He was just walking around his office moving papers from one place to another, then plugging his laptop and doing what seemed to be his daily routine in his incredibly fancy office. Meanwhile I was following him with my eyes, as if by staring, I could somehow make the words burst out. I cleaned my throat before, “I appreciate your offer, Sir… I wonder if you had considered my request?” I asked, daring to guess this whole thing was about the proposal I had sent days ago attached to several reports of stories I had been investigating. They were not finished, but I knew that with the support of the editorial office, more specifically, its resources I could find the missing pieces and they would be ready to publish. On paper. Because they were worthy of it. He leaned forward supporting both of his arms on his desk and I could swear I saw a little smirk on his face. “I have read it, Miss Grant, but you are here because the selection is almost here and as a writer of entertainment on the digital platform I wanted to know about your plans to cover everything related to it. Of course he did.

My shoulders slumped and I bet my face showed all my disappointment. “Well, I already have a list of the twos that I think would be participating …” He reclined on his comfortable chair, pensative. “I was thinking about more original content.” Before I could answer anything he added, “have you considered applying?” “Excuse me?” Was he suggesting what I think he was suggesting?

“I mean, as a young Illéan citizen it’s only natural that you want to give it a shot.” He shrugged innocently. “I just wanted to know how many people I can count on, during that time.” The suggestive tone hadn’t left his voice. “Even to know when to schedule a meeting to talk about your interesting proposal.” So that’s where his smirk came from. I swallowed my surprise and played along. “The idea crossed my mind when we were informed this morning, but I have projects here that I’m not sure I would want to put on hold. So, nothing is decided.” I gave him what I hoped was a short relaxed smile. “Miss Grant, you are quite a smart girl.” He sighed. “I rely on your discretion about this.” It wasn’t even a question. He left from his seat and I followed him to the door. “One thing, I had an appointment to interview Gerald Ross, I was supposed to be there now.” I checked my clock again. “Don’t worry about it, I sent someone to replace you.” With a short nod he closed the door behind me.

I stayed there for some seconds, taking everything in. This floor had a stronger smell of coffee, surely it was from a better quality.

I didn’t know what to feel. Should I’ve been feeling angry? Insulted? Then why was I considering it?

No! I was already doing that before this conversation happened. I thought, trying to reassure myself and to bury my ambition.

I looked around coming to my senses, everyone was focused on work, the sound of their fingers typing on the keyboards resounded on this floor level as they did on all the others, luckily no one had seen me there, standing like an idiot. Except for...

My eyes spotted my dad walking towards me, with a smile in his eyes.

“Miss Grant, I was informed you were in a meeting. Is there a problem?”

My father and I had a strange strategy to keep the professional talk during our work hours and the father and daughter moments at home, but honestly we almost never succeeded.

“I rely on your discretion about this” I remembered the boss’ words.

“Uh, yeah-no… It was about a proposal I sent Mr. Loyd” I chose to answer, doing too many hand gestures. I always have always hated that horrible habit of mine. I looked up at my dad and I noticed the unmistakable guilt all over his face. I frowned, as my brain connected the dots. “You have been talking with him about my proposal, didn’t you?” “Miss Grant...” He said with a warning glare. He didn’t want to do this now, not in front of his subordinates. I didn’t want to make a scene either, I had a professional reputation to maintain too, and almost everyone in the building already thought I had gotten my job only because of my father’s position.

I’ve had to live my life proving myself to them, to my exes, to my boss and even to my dad.

I clenched my jaw. “I should have known it.” My words were full of anger but I kept the steady tone. My father and I had a beautiful relationship, we understood each other, we supported each other, except that he had never wanted me to change the entertainment journalism for the hard news. And I just had found out that he not only didn’t support my dream but he probably had prevented it from happening. And maybe this wasn’t the first time, I had sent letters and requests to the boss more than once. He remained silent, but his expression was almost apologetic.

“I have work to do.” I said after calling the lift.

Back in my workplace, the sky at the other side of the glass had lost its colorful tones to show a light tone of blue. I could sense a headache coming, but the dress wrapped in plastic and delivered to my desk was a reminder that I didn’t have the time to be miserable. My mother had helped me to choose it the previous day and we asked the store to send it here today. The thought of my mother made me want to call her and vent about all the thoughts that were bothering me, Virginia Grant was the only mediator that had always been able to fix any argument between me and my dad.

“How could you marry him?... I mean, you were a two!” I asked her one day.

She smiled. She knew I didn’t mean it. It was one of those exasperating times when you can only remember the negative things about a person, and even make a long list of them. Of course my mother had a list on her own, but hers was completely opposite from mine. She loved my dad but based on my experiences, that kind of love was something I was far to understand.

The call would have been a delay as well, so I picked the dress, my backpack and headed to the bathroom to get ready.

The dress was black and long, without my high heels its border would sweep the floor. Elegant enough to make me feel pretty but somehow simple and comfortable with hidden pockets at its sides for my pen and journal. Ideal to go around covering an event from the red carpet until the last two would leave the party.

For a moment I wished I was the kind of girl that brightens with a nice outfit, but I had a lot to think about and a headache, with nothing but my professionalism to hold on to.

I checked my reflection on the mirror a couple of times before a couple of ’dings' on my cell phone announcing a message.

“YEAH YEAH YOU LOOK DECENT, LET’S GOOO!”

I walked outside to the busy city, the honking of cars and the strolling people; just an ordinary day. The sun rays and clear sky forced me to squint and narrow my eyes, but even then I could easily spot Harris' wild long curls tied on a small ponytail back at his neck. He was facing the street, but looking down at his camera screen, probably getting it ready for the upcoming red carpet.

Photographers gadgets is probably the only topic I avoided asking about since that one time I dared to inquire about camera settings. He gave me a complete lecture about all the tools that could be used to fix the light before taking a picture, and I ended up more clueless than before.

“Wow!... no one can ruin a nice dress like you do, boss” He said when he turned around.

I rolled my eyes “Says the boy with the twisted bowtie” We had to speak up so our voices didn’t get lost among the noise surrounding us, but beside that, my tone sounded more harsh than intended.

Harris and I had been working together since we both entered The Globe editorial office. He was assigned to be my assistant photographer, and he was a great one. We made a good team at the beginning and after a year I would say we had become good friends. He’s always mocking about how everyone hates me for my last name and I mock him for ...being him.

He let his camera hang from his neck and fidgeted with his bowtie trying to fix it. “Hmm… I guess the meeting didn’t go well”

I turned my head almost too quickly at his remark. “Which meeting?” “You all reporters had a meeting this morning, right? You texted me about it.” He frowned, I wasn’t sure if it was because he had noticed something was going on or because he was giving up on making his bowtie look presentable.

“Oh, yes that one. It was to-” I massaged my forehead slightly “to confirm Prince Arin is sending application letters before long, so the selection will happen”

He shrugged. “I already see all the extra work complaints coming” he said sarcastically.

He knew I was always working on not assigned notes and sometimes I dared to drag him into helping me, even when that was not included on his paycheck.

But right now he had no idea what he was talking about and I couldn’t tell him; even if I could, he would have started to ask questions I wouldn’t have been able to answer. Besides, I hadn't made my decision yet. I scoffed a laugh. “Come on, let’s find the Vespa before we both lose our jobs for being late to the PET gala.” “Well, my charm would have to do.” He shrugged looking down at his still twisted bowtie. “It won’t.”

When we arrived at the old Festerman mansion the place was already bursting with energy. The large carpet was placed across the garden and part of the street. The celebrities hadn’t arrived yet and the fanatics were being held somewhere waiting for the time they could access their special place closer to their idols, even when it was too early we could listen to their cheering screams from time to time which I guess were more for them to bear the waiting than to anyone else.

Cast, crew and the carpet runners were coming and going from one place to another taking care of last details and keeping the order among the press people; always being careful not to step on the soft fabric on the floor, otherwise it’s bright striking red tone would turn into crimson before the guests’ arrival.

The media pen was already open so after parking my yellow Vespa we quicken our step towards our designed slot. Along my first year as a reporter I had to make important acquaintances and no matter what other people could say the most important ones are not the celebrities but the backstage people, the ones that could be invisible for the majority and essential at the same time.

“Tom!” I shouted and waved when I spotted the red carpet runner. He was in charge of supervising the press on several red carpet events.

We’d met once at the Angeles movie awards, he blocked my way when I wanted to get close to Serena Davis but I took an expensive pin off my hair and convinced him she had dropped it and she would want it back. It was one of those times I felt even more thankful for my grandmother’s fancy presents. Of course he got mad when he saw me doing an interview almost in the middle of the carpet but his attitude changed as soon as I started to interview him to do a behind the scenes article.

Actually, it turned out to be a success.

“The new guys!” He greeted us. “Who do you want me to send your way this time?” hHe asked. Our colleagues at our sides, stopped arranging their things for a moment and gave us a glance, we pretended we didn’t notice. “Umm, Angelina Brown, Meryl Miller, Brady Tylor… I think Lin Yang has some drama going on right now and the Lane-Cadwell couple would be great, if you can He let out a long whistle. “The couple would be hard but I will see what I can do.” He fixed his eyes on Harris' neck and pointed. “Your bowtie is all … wrong.”

“Harder than Estelle Dawson?” Harris asked with a smirk, leaning on the structure that was keeping us at the edge of the carpet ignoring completely Tom’s observation.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” I scolded. It was not that my grandmother was hard to reach as the celebrity that she was but she would never, under any circumstances, get close to me while I’m on duty.

She still hated my father for stealing her daughter and resented my mother for marrying a three, but she seemed to be fond of me and my baby brother. At least that’s what I felt when she made us visit her at her home. She used to send the limo just for the two of us. Tom looked confused at our talk so he just excused himself and left to continue with his chores.

“Light test!” Harris let out suddenly. He always used to say that when he needed me to turn to the camera to take me a picture, it helped him to prove if it was set correctly according to the lights in the place. I tried to smile a little for it.

“So, I need an update... and the plan,” he continued casually, while he took a look at my recently taken picture.

Harris and I were sent to cover the PET event, interviewing the celebrities and updating the people live on the newspaper's new blog. I asked him to capture a moment or person with his camera and sent it to my cell phone then I posted it with a caption and the people enjoyed the content from the comfort of their houses. It wasn’t so bad, but I had other motives.

The host of the massive PET event, Lanna Winster was a splendid, exotic retired actress; lovely to the public eyes; generous. She had the enough power, connections and money to organize this traditional gala to raise money for the animal shelter Paw-Prints animal shelter. Of course, her friends and celebrities adore, and support her. When you googled her name you could find an infinite amount of pictures of her posing with all kinds of lovely animals.

We had the honor to meet her for a short interview a few months ago at one of her luxurious mansions for the newspaper’s blog. Not even at the most prestigious hotel we were treated that well. Harris was desperate to come back for a second interview someday. For me, she was only a wealthy woman doing some good with her loose change.

My real job started when rumors started circulating around the office. An anonymous source had seen talking with the main organizer of some sort of hunting convention. Everyone was shocked with the news but in absence of evidence we couldn’t make anything public. I spend a lot of time searching documents, watching her old interviews, and reading information on antique papers. I even swallowed my disgust and tried to apply for the hunting convention myself, but applications were closed until next year.

Who would think that murderers were that organized?

I didn’t have anything, until a few weeks ago The Globe received a press invitation for the PET gala, we were informed it had been moved to the old Festerman mansion, which seemed very unusual.

National events with that level of importance always took place in Angeles; and the old mansion was… very old and until she decided to make small repairs “just for the event”, it had been pretty much forgotten.

As soon as I knew this, I made some visits to the Festerman mansion, the first time I wanted to get inside, but someone had posted a guard on the entrance, I also spotted security cameras around the property.

The rest of the time was just there to have some nice chats during my lunch breaks. The guard was just a few years older than me, basic humor and didn’t seem amused with his job. And I was supposed to be some neighbor on my way home stopping to say hi three days in a row. By Friday I already had what I was looking for. A name.

“... just… I think you should send a complaint note or something” I said lifting a shoulder. “Hard workers have some rights and you should be allowed to get out for a drink or something during the day, I mean besides the lunch break that you have to take in here.” I made a grimace for emphasis. He laughed a little and after some seconds he said, “I don’t think Miss Jean would mind if I-” I recognized the name as soon as I heard it, I had it written on my journal. She was Lanna’s maid. I checked my watch before he could even finish his sentence, “I’m so sorry, I’m running late, but I really think a complaint note could work.” Harris didn’t know the last part of the story so when I finished he was amused. “I can’t believe he fell for that one!” “Yeah, that’s not the important part of the story, Harris” I said. My mood was a bit better after telling him the whole story so I didn’t mind his teasing. He never seemed interested in my clandestine work, but for some reason he was always willing to help.

This was the closest I’d ever been to have a complete story worthy of the front page of a newspaper. Loyd would have another option but publish it and I wouldn’t have to apply for the selection.

At least not under his terms.

As the light and warmth of the day ebbed, the bright light of the big reflectors filled the place, the red carpet went on as usual.

The celebrities paraded along the garden matching their fashionable expensive dresses with their pets. We saw dogs, cats, rabbits, even horses -which had to remain parked outside- The carpet had to be cleaned more than once during the night, but the staff seemed to be well aware of that since the beginning. The afternoon passed between flashes, short interviews and fans alternating between shouting names and expressing “awwe’s” at the sight of their favorite people and their cute companions.

I got almost all the interviews I wanted and Harris captured all the relevant moments, but the event was far from the end.

The night had arrived by the time we got inside the mansion. Lenna Winster had made several repairs on the property but I suspected she had kept an ancient look for aesthetic purposes. The interior looked old but solid. They had placed several tables around a big room, decorations on the walls and bar for drinks at the end. The press had their own place to eat, but it wasn’t forbidden to wander around or get a drink as soon as we didn’t follow or bother the celebrities with any more questions. Although we were permitted to take pictures and record videos to keep the public updated.

“This is good, but not as good as I expected.” Harris complained as he took a break from the camera to finish his blueberry trifle. “We haven’t tasted better deserts than the ones that gave us at that restaurant inauguration, remember? I said with a small smile as I looked around the room, noticing every movement.

My eyes were mostly on Lanna and her people, but I couldn’t make it obvious, so I just took some time to make annotations on my journal. Who was chatting with who, which celebrities were friends now, which were friends and now they were not. No that I cared about gossip, but those kinds of details could be very useful sometimes. My eyes crossed with my grandma’s a couple of times, but the most I got from her was an acknowledging nod and she got a smile in return. What would she think about me applying for the selection? I laughed inside. Of course she would love it!

“Are you kidding? I will never forget how sick I felt the next day for eating that much...”

Harris continued talking, but I couldn’t hear the rest of his story, because right at that moment a tall, black haired young man, who I recognized at the guard of the mansion, entered the room and whispered something to one Lanna’s bodyguard. He leaned towards the table where his employer was sitting, interrupting her chatting and laughing with the people at her table. They exchanged some words in what seemed to be a low tone and then both of her custodians started to walk away, leaving her unprotected. I raised from our table trying to conceal my rush. I kept my journal back in my pocket and took my purse from the table. “I will be right back.” I said to my friend, I couldn’t quite catch his reaction because my eyes were set on our host’s guards. I quickened my steps among tables and people, turning back slightly. I guessed since neither I was any celebrity nor I was bothering any, no one paid attention to me.

I followed them out of the room and across a long corridor, just a few waiters passed by but they kept focused on their duties. The music and laughter was fading behind us, the house outside the main room looked genuinely old, but fortunately, this floor had been fully carpeted, otherwise my high heels would have been a problem.

They finally stopped after rounding a corner by what it seemed like a back door. I stayed hidden behind the wall but ventured to peek my head to see what they were doing. Both guards were opening a big wooden box that based on what they said it had been delivered to the wrong house. One of them reached down and picked out something that at first it looked like some ...kind of... soft material, but when it was out completely I was sure it was fur. Real fur.

I stared at it for some seconds, not quite sure what to do.

I need a picture. My hands were shaking while I opened my small purse while I kept eye contact with the fur of a dead tigger. I managed to get my cell phone out but as soon as I lifted it to shoot, it slid and dropped on the floor making a “thunk” sound against the carpet.

Damn! I didn’t stay to know if they had heard me. I picked up my phone and walked as fast as I could without looking back heading for the main door.

Outside the night was dark and starless, it was late but there was still some traffic on the street. I texted Harris to meet me outside with my clumsy fingers. I was still shaking but this time it was out of anger and frustration. How could I be so stupid?!! I was so close?!!

On our way home, Harris sensed my mood and didn’t ask me anything, he knew I would talk about it tomorrow before or after we get scolded for not staying till the end of the event to cover it completely. But I wasn’t worrying about that, all I could do was to drive while I questioned myself. A day that had looked so nice in the morning had gone so wrong. What was I thinking, risking myself for nothing! I shouldn’t be doing any of this. Maybe my father was right, maybe everyone was right and I wasn’t made for this work.

In the middle of my messy angry thoughts the selection came to my mind again, or maybe it had never left. I decided I was going to fill that application letter as soon as it arrived home. But why was I doing this? To accept my boss’ proposal? To satisfy my own curiosity about Illèas biggest tradition? Or maybe, like Queen Anjali I needed that... something to even my life scale, which so far was fully inclined to the “duty” side.

#PC #OC6 #((can't believe I'm finally posting this))#((it took me soooo long))#((THANK YOU SO MUCH ALL THE SUPPORT CASSEY!!! ))#((THANK YOU FOR READING SIMEE))

9 notes · View notes

nextgensquad · 4 years

Note

i really love your writing! pearl, could you tell us more about your dominique? maybe the first time she falls in love or perhaps what she does after hogwarts?

dominique weasley doesn’t fall in love.

it’s not that she doesn’t believe in it or anything. she believes very strongly in love (it’s hard not to, when you grow up with parents like bill and fleur, who are so disgustingly in love that they managed to put their own kids off kissing for several years). it’s just that, well, when you grow up best friends with lily luna potter, some things have to go on the backburner.

lily is a whirlwind, a tornado, a hurricane, or any other natural disaster you might name. dominique hitched herself to lily’s ride when they were five and she’s not the kind to give up on something halfway. some people think she shouldn’t have been in gryffindor (too weird, too dreamy, too head-in-the-clouds, should’ve been a ravenclaw, should’ve been a hufflepuff) but the truth is that nobody but a gryffindor could ever keep up with lily luna potter.

(the first time dominique ever had a crush on a boy, it was alexander abbott in the year above, and he asked her out to hogsmeade when she was a second year, and they were sitting in madame puddifoot’s when he confided in her that he thought lily was “kind of a bitch.”

she walked out of madame puddifoot’s only after hexing his chair to fall apart.)

so it’s not that dominique weasley doesn’t believe in love. it’s just that, when you love lily, it’s impossible to let anyone else in. she takes up so much space, she’s like a whole solar system and the people who love her are moons in her orbit.

james and albus get it the best. hugo doesn’t get it at all.

“why do you let her drag you around to all her stupid shit?” he demands of dominique when they get partnered for a potions project in their fifth year. “you could be friends with other people, you know.”

dominique tilts her head, watching hugo as he chops up their mice tails. hugo with his ravenclaw tie and his ever-present scowl, hugo who’s the best student in their grade but never truly seems to enjoy magic. hugo, who barely even talks to his own sister in the halls, let alone his cousins.

“i don’t want other friends,” she explains. “and lily needs me.”

the truth of it is that lily needs dominique and dominique needs lily. it’s not about being cousins; it’s about being best friends. lily needs someone to enable her, someone to believe in her, someone to call her out when she gets toowild, too manic, too full of storms to see the sky. dominique needs someone to pull her out of the stars to see the earth, someone to push her, someone to understand why she spends so much time with tarot cards and crystals.

people think divination is about telling the future. dominique has been hanging aroundlily long enough to know that the future doesn’t matter one whit unless you’ve got a present worth fighting for.

the thing is, everything with lily is a fight—a fight for attention, a fight for space, a fight to prove her worth, a fight to prove that somebody else is worthless. a fight for love, a fight for hate. lily luna potter was born to fight the world; dominique was born to be a mediator. so it’s her who follows lily to all the parties she sneaks out to and makes sure she doesn’t drink herself into oblivion (again). it’s her who pleads with teachers on lily’s behalf to give her an extra extension on homework that’s already late. and it’s her who finds out which students have been selling stories about lily to the tabloids, and it’s her who finds a way to hex them so hard they’ll never speak lily’s name again.

“sometimes, i think you’re better at being lily’s older brother than i am,” al tells her ruefully. he offers her a cigarette, and she shakes her head. “she just makes it so hard sometimes.”

“she does that on purpose.” dominique watches al inhale, exhale, watches the smoke ribbon out in plumes of gray. lily smokes, too—a bad habit, just like all her other habits. “she wants to make it hard to love her, so nobody can.”

“we still do.” al waits a moment, then crushes his cigarette beneath his fingers. “have you ever thought about it? just… leaving her. cutting her off. finding your own friends. don’t tell me you’ve never considered it, dom.”

(has she ever considered it? has she watched the other girls in their dorm gathered around someone else’s bed, trading lipsticks and nail polishes and telling stories that lily and dominique aren’t invited to hear? has she felt her heart flutter when a cute boy from ravenclaw smiles at her, and then never spoken to him again because lily picked a fight with him over quidditch try-outs or potions homework or a girl she was feuding with who happened to be his sister? has she wanted to step out of the charybdis of lily luna potter and breathe, for once in her life?)

“i don’t give up on people,” dominique says. “especially not lily.”

(of course she’s considered it.

but there’s a reason she’s in gryffindor, isn’t there?)

in the end, lily runs away from hogwarts on a tuesday partway through their seventh year and upsets the whole balance of things on her own. no less than five of dominique’s cousins storm into gryffindor common room to demand answers from her that she won’t give.

james looks wrecked, when he gets there close to midnight.

“please,” he whispers. “dom, please, if you know anything… please tell me.”

dominique thinks of the note she found stickied to her tarot deck that morning, the trembling handwriting, pink ink, lily’s unmistakable scrawl—don’t tell anyone. please. she thinks of the set of numbers beneath it, so tiny like they had snuck their way out of lily’s pen unknowingly, a phone number for her to call. she thinks of lily’s voice over the phone, smaller than she’s everheard it, whispering to her as her train rumbles on in the background.

she looks at james, heartbroken, desperate james. she’s only seen him like this twice before: once, when al nearly killed himself in his sixth year, and the second time, when he’d found out he was going to be a father at twenty-one. there are very, very few things that can make james sirius potter rip his heart outof his sleeve. one is al, one is lily, and one is his unborn child.

she wants to tell him. she wants to tell him more than she’s ever wanted to tell anyone a secret before.

“i’m sorry,” she says. “i promised lily.”

james leaves without a word. all this time, dominique had thought she hadn’t got much of a heart left to break but clearly, she’d been wrong.

al is the only cousin who will talk to her after, when lily’s been missing through christmas holidays. victoire is disappointed, louis is ragingly mad, and james still won’t speak to her. she doesn’t even want to face uncle harry and aunt ginny, so she lies to her parents that she’s been invited to a friend’s vacation trip and sneaks away to al’s flat instead.

“will you tell me one thing, at least?” al asks when she’s curled up on his sofa with a mug of bitter, black coffee steaming in her hands, withdrawn and miserable and unwilling to break a promise. “it’s not about where she is.”

“what is it about?”

al looks at her with those green, green eyes, so bright like the killing curse. impossible to look away from. she thinks it’s lucky lily didn’t get those eyes. she would have been unstoppable with them.

“does she hate us?”

“no,” says dominique as fast and immediately as possible. this one isn’t a secret she has to keep. “no, she could never hate you.”

that, at least, is true. lily hates a lot of people, but she could never, ever hate her family, no matter how much she might want to, no matter how much al and james drive her crazy. she’s surprised al even has to ask, but if victoire hadup and vanished into thin air without so much as a goodbye note, dominique supposes she’d be paranoid, too.

it mollifies al enough, but when he leaves for his night shift, she’s left with scorpius malfoy sitting in the living room, studying her like she’s an art piece, or a puzzle cube. dominique is almost finished with her whole mug of coffee when he finally breaks the silence.

“is she knocked up?”

“what?”

scorpius shrugs, a malfoy shrug of carelessness and apathy. “lily. is she knocked up? is that why she left?”

“no,” says dominique, too forcefully, and realizes too late that he’s grinning at her.

“so you do know why she left.”

dominique rolls her eyes and stays quiet. practiced indifference, that’s what lily had always told her. just because we’re gryffindors doesn’t mean we have to wear every emotion on our faces. especially not to slytherins.

“you wanna know what i think?” scorpius continues seamlessly, as if he hadn’t been waiting for her to reply. “i think she just wanted more attention. she wasn’t getting enough at hogwarts, so she decided to make it the whole ministry’s problem.”

dominique has to carefully unclench her jaw. “and what if she did?”

“well, it’s awfully selfish,” says scorpius, as if surprised she even has to ask. “putting her whole family through this. putting you through this.”

“me?”

“you,” he confirms. “you’re the one who’s getting punished in her place, since she’s not here. your siblings will barely talk to you. i heard mr. and mrs. potter didn’t even get you a christmas present this year.”

he’s goading her, she realizes. it’s such an old slytherin tactic, she almost wants to laugh at him. but the truth in his words keeps her pinned to her seat, keeps her heart wrenched like a corkscrew in her chest.

“just say it,” dominique says, and pushes the pillows and the plush throw off her lap, scrambling up to her feet. scorpius rises, too, and he’s a good head taller than her, but she’s never been afraid of a fight with people bigger than her. “say that you think i’m lily’s bitch. that i let her push me around. that she’s ruining my life. it’s nothing everyone else hasn’t alreadysaid about me.”

scorpius looks down at her, dominique simmering with fury, her head a million miles away with lily on a bus. he looks at her, and looks and looks, and somewhere in the middle of the space between them, she realizes she’s not so used to people looking at her for so long.

(see, dominique had realized a long, long time ago that the best way to shove her veela sparkle down as far as it will go is to surround herself with someone who blazes so bright, she’s impossible to ignore. lily’s so beautiful, sodangerous, that nobody even notices that one-eighth of dominique’s heritage burning in her chest like a secret candle, like a light she never wants anyone to notice.)

“i don’t think that,” scorpius says, very slowly, like he’s trying to imprint his words onto her heart. “i think you’re very brave.”

dominique freezes. “what?”

scorpius shrugs again, but this one isn’t a malfoy shrug. it’s honest and helpless andhe tilts his head back to look up at the ceiling of his flat and exhales so slowly she can track the movement in his chest underneath his black t-shirt.

“if it were al…” he hesitates for a long moment. “if it were al, i would want to do the same thing. and if james or lily had come after me, i would have broken. i know i would have. i’ve never seen anyone stand up to al like you did the dayshe ran away. even i can’t do that, most days. not rose, not anyone.”

dominique blinks and feels, to her horror, the beginning of tears flickering in her eyes. she dashes them away, furious and wrecked all of a sudden, all at once.

“you’re braver than i am, dominique weasley,” scorpius tells her, his mouth set in a rueful, wistful line. “i guess that’s not much of a surprise. you are a gryffindor.”

“it’s not because i’m a gryffindor,” dominique blurts out without thinking. scorpius raises an eyebrow at her. “it’s… it’s because she’s lily. and i’m not much without her.”

scorpius breathes out a laugh, and for a second she thinks he’s going to try to comfort her, to say of course she’s something, she’s dominique weasley, she’s the daughter of curse-breakers, she’s going to be something great. all the things her parents and her sister and her brother have tried telling her over and over, trying to push her away from lily.

but he doesn’t. what he says is: “well, i’m not much without al, so i guess that’s one thing we have in common.”

dominique stares at him, at scorpius malfoy in all his sharp lines, all his pureblood grace. looks at the cut of his jaw and the lines of his shoulders. the ghost of a smile on his face, the way his gray eyes rest upon her so steadily. looks at him without al at his side and wonders how she looks without lily at hers.

“what a pair we make,” she says finally, feels something lift in her chest when he laughs for real.

“what a pair,” he agrees, and lifts his mug of coffee to toast hers.

(this is, although she doesn’t realize it then, the first time she falls in love for real. standing in her cousin’s messy flat, wearing her pink pygmy-spotted socks, listening to scorpius malfoy tell her that she’s brave. this is the first time she’s not thinking about the future. not thinking about her family. not thinking about the secrets she has to keep and the promises she has to break.

scorpius turns on the muggle radio and makes her another cup of coffee and this, dominique realizes with sudden clarity, is what lily was talking about: a present worth fighting for.)

#dominique weasley #lily luna potter #scorpius malfoy #albus severus potter #hp next gen #dominique and scorpius #ours #writing #pearl #oh man thank you SO much for this ask bc i fucking love dom so much #and warning that this turned out SUPER long and doesnt even get into post hogwarts at all #but i really wanted to write about dom and lily because they're one of my fave relationships ever #and ofc there are some of my other fave relationships here too #anonymous #ask #devils roll the dice

36 notes · View notes

minaminokyoko · 5 years

Text

Godzilla: King of Monsters: A Spoilertastic Review

To get straight to the point for some of you, yes, thank God, this movie is better than Godzilla '14.

For one, the title character is not only in the movie for a decent amount of time, they don't constantly cut away from the action and the film is properly lit so that even in night scenes and scenes with heavy rain, our lizard boi is fully visible. He also is kicking some ass and taking some names, and that's what we came here to see. Thus, it's immediately better than its predecessor.

However, a big problem with the movie is the humans. Not the supporting Monarch team, mind you, but the "family." This is one of the most poorly written families I've seen in a while. It's just baffling. They are very, very unlikable people. You don't really get to know them much, and moments where you do, you just don't like them. They are not easy to root for. It's a very similar problem to a lot of other disaster movies, where they pick a bunch of high strung, angry, selfish people as your leads to the point where you're kind of rooting for the disaster to get them, and that's sadly the other half of this film.

In short, they do the kaiju stuff well, but the humans drag the movie down a couple of enjoyment levels, if you ask me. Let's get to it.

Overall Grade: C

Spoilers ahead.

Pros:

-Godzilla and the other monsters look and sound great. They truly feel like their title: Titans. The movie does a good job of offering scale and giving you different perspectives to understand the size and scope of these creatures, and it's very cool to see some of them in the flesh while others are just named. They name-dropped Kong three times that I counted, but he's still Sir-Not-Appearing-In-This-Movie, which is irritating, but I also think that's for two reasons: (1) they need to build the hype train and sadly this movie is not on track to do well, as evidenced by my theater only having about eight people total in it opening weekend, and they need all the help they can get if they truly want to turn this into a franchise (2) they want to give him and Godzilla an entire rivalry film to themselves instead of just making him an extra here in this movie. Give them the room to breathe and be rivals in their own film rather than just shoehorning Kong into this debut of the other kaiju. But back to my point, the monsters all feel corporeal and intimidating. I really liked Mothra's design in particular. She looks gorgeous and is kind of the Ugly Cute variety of monster. I very much enjoyed seeing these creatures with some good effects given to them (although there are a few spots where it could look better, but WB struggles with this a lot, I've noticed) and the sounds they make are tremendous and impressive.

-The monster fights are pretty solid. I do admit that Pacific Rim kind of raised my bar for kaiju fights even though I know it's not the same story, but that to me is the perfect balance of human characters who are actually likable and useful versus giant monsters. I think it just should be a good blueprint for how to run the show if you're advertising giant monsters blowing up shit and beating the stuffing out of each other. I think the monster fights in King of Monsters are paced well and you can mostly understand where they are in relation to each other and how evenly matched they are. There were also smaller, neat details like seeing Mothra in her larva state then evolve into her adult form. That's very cool and creative and I enjoyed that little detail. The final smackdown with Godzilla and Ghidorah was a good monster mash, and I appreciate them giving it time and not cutting away. Godzilla's finishing move was 100% badass. Kudos to the big Lizard Boi, and kudos to Mothra for coming to help her lizard boyfriend as well against Rodan.

-The Monarch team is dicey at best, but the humans actually did more than just following him around like in Godzilla '14. It was actually a smart idea to introduce the ORCA and the concept of trying to at least either soothe or summon the monsters. I liked it a lot, and it was relatively realistic. We as a species are stupid and would of course try nukes first, but once they learned that these things actually feed on radiation and it makes them stronger, then they would be forced to find alternative options. It allowed the human characters to finally be truly relevant and not just dumb, wide-eyed spectators (although, God, there was a lot of that in this movie) and it gave the whole thing a sort of story.

-Just like the previous movie, Ken Watanabe gave a performance this movie did not deserve. He's just one of those actors where he's so seasoned that even though God knows this movie's script is not fucking Shakespeare, you could still tell that he cared a lot about the project and was easily the best actor hands down.

-I'm glad Emma dies. Fuck her. Thank you for having the teeth to not try and give her some shitty redemption that she wouldn't have deserved anyway. Thank you for sticking to your guns and doing just like Deep Blue Sea and letting the person responsible for all that death take the final bow for her shitty fucking actions.

-This has nothing to do with the canon, but I had a really cool idea: what if Last Action Hero Bad Guy is Tom Hiddleston's character from Kong: Skull Island? Wouldn't that be fucking neat?! It just occurred to me that since Hiddleston's character was probably in his 30's during the 1970's, he'd be in his 70's during this film and he's a tall, thin British dude. I would love it if we got some kind of backstory reveal that something happened that caused Hiddleston's character to turn against Monarch. Wouldn't that be a good idea for a second Kong movie? Seeing the hero turn to the villain for the sake of saving the planet? Man, I like that idea a lot, but that's me.

-I was glad to see Ziyi Zhang return to a big screen movie. I liked her and felt bad about what happened to her career, so it was cool seeing little bits of story, especially about how Asian cultures do in fact consider reptiles to be helpful and not hurtful. That was a neat little mythos thing for me.

Cons:

-As mentioned above, I hated this fucking family. This family is just unbearable. I know the film is ham-fisted in its attempts to deal with loss and tragedy and a broken home, but there is a way to do that. There is a way to write characters reconciling and putting aside a rough history to come together. This is not the way. It's so sloppily written that I was throwing my hands up in exasperation at certain points. They are so unlikable. You see so little of their home life, first off, that there is no real connection to get to know them. This is a common problem in action movies these days, too--they don't know how to set the stage and just rush into action. It's true we come to action movies for action, but that doesn't mean we don't also want to enjoy the characters we're spending time with. We know it's fully possible to have action packed movies with well-written leads. It's been done for decades, so this movie has no excuse for why the three family members are aggressively terrible. Emma is a selfish, thoughtless bitch and her motivations make zero sense. Mark is just an angry ex-alcoholic who just barely is relevant enough to be in the story. Madison is damn near a blank slate daughter archetype with little to offer except to be something to rescue. Even with one brief flashback of when they were happy, we're not given a reason to root for them because you never get to know them and the few character traits they do display are just awful. For that reason, we're gonna give Emma her own bullet point to explain why she is just the worst.

-Emma's motivation is completely ass-backwards. Going the eco-terrorism point makes no fucking sense for what happened to her. Hear me out. I can see what this movie was going for, and I know it's kind of an odd comparison, but what they ended up with is basically blonde Thanos. Fuck this woman. Fuck this woman for deciding that she's right and millions of other people need to die because she thinks she is right about something, and she was fucking wrong. 100% fucking wrong. It made no sense that because Godzilla killed your kid, you're gonna slaughter tens of thousands of other kids to "restore the earth" and make it some kind of utopia. You're gonna subject innocent lives to torture and death and trauma in the hopes that titantic animals you cannot at all control and barely understand will raze everything to ashes and then shit can grow again. This is some deeply white people shit, too. Sorry to pull that card, but yes, this is a full-on white people mentality of doing something that will hurt everyone else BUT YOU and thinking you have the right to make that fucking decision. She and Maddie were somewhere safe, and she told her ex-husband to go somewhere safe too, and then she pulled a trigger that killed millions of fucking people whose only crimes were existing. That environmentalist message was utter shit. Is the earth overpopulated and polluted? Yep. But the fucking solution is not to kill half the goddamn population. The solution is to work together and overthrow the corrupt people keeping us from finding realistic ways to solve the problem, not wiping out half of humanity while you sit in a goddamn doomsday bunker sipping coffee and congratulating yourself. The crazy thing is this blonde Thanos bullshit did not need to happen. Last Action Hero Bad Guy was perfectly fine in this role of basically the kaiju version of Ra's Al Ghul. It made sense for him to be like, "ay, fuck y'all for killing the earth, let's let the monsters have it back and then clean up afterward." All you had to do was keep it the way it was presented to us: he kidnapped her and the kid and forced them to help wake up the monsters. There was no need to for this idiotic Deep Blue Sea nonsense of her agreeing with him and somehow setting it up. Which, by the way, made no goddamn sense because he kills all those innocent scientists in the lab at the beginning of the movie. Did she know he would do that? If so, fuck her. Fuck her in the ass sideways for killing her own teammates. She could have met him somewhere else. What was with the guns and shit if she's the one who came up with this dumb idea? I hate everything about this character and I am glad she died in the end because she was as much a fucking monster as King Ghidorah.

-The dialogue in this movie is atrocious. Look, I get it, it's a generic action movie. But come on. There were seriously points where I just rolled my eyes or threw my hands up in exasperation because there were just so many Captain Obvious comments or unfunny one-liners thrown back and forth. It's painful to endure some of this shit. The "humor" in particular really hurts, because you can see they put pauses after certain lines where they think the audience is laughing, and trust me, no, we were NOT laughing. Stupid shit like telling a character to "hold on" as a fucking maelstrom is trying to blow them away or just other dumb filler dialogue that makes me wanna slap my forehead. It's egregious.

-The Monarch team is still kind of as stupid as the last movie. Not completely, but they were reaching hard in certain cases and they still felt useless. One example that drove me insane was when Godzilla went back to his bachelor pad to recharge, they then say this is where he comes to heal...and then proceed to nuke that shit. And I'm like...bitch, whatchu gon' do now if he gets hurt?! You're just gonna find him and nuke him every single time he's hurt?! What the fuck kind of plan is that? I get that the movie writers wanted a sense of urgency, but that was such an idiotic way to accomplish something needed for the plot. They introduced a cool concept and then eliminated it immediately. Oy. Another example is Mark's dumbass screaming for Maddie like she can possibly hear him at Fenway Park with fucking Ghidorah and Godzilla literally fighting right on top of the stadium. Are you kidding me? My God, Mark is stupid. He did the same thing when he ran into the base with a fucking pistol screaming her name and letting the armed mercs know exactly where the hell he was. I am shocked his dumbass didn't get immediately picked off. Moron.

-Sarigawa's death was some full-on nonsense. Fuck you for killing the only credible actor in the entire movie, and what's worse is that it very much feels like a person of color dying for the sake of some goddamn white people. Because, yes, folks, I'm sorry, this is a white woman's fault. All this shit is because a white woman wanted to be Thanos and now this awesome dude has to sacrifice himself. Fuck off. I hate this point in the story, even though bless Watanabe for giving us the only credible emotional scene in the entire movie.

-Even though she was barely a character, I disliked Sally Hawkins biting it randomly in the first third, and not getting much reverence. No, we didn't know shit about her, but it felt like the movie just said "fuck it" and moved right along like it was no big deal. I don't know why they even bothered.

-How in God's name did they somehow "sneak" Ghidorah's whole ass head out of fucking Boston with no one noticing? It's a giant dragon head! How did you fucking do that and no one saw you bring it all the way to Mexico? I swear to God, this movie is filled with plotholes. I'm fine with them setting up Mecha Ghidorah or just cloning him all over again, but why couldn't it just have been in Boston and they just snuck in during the dead of night and moved it somewhere nearby? That thing is gigantic and it's a hard pill to swallow that they just left without anyone noticing it.

EDIT: A fan corrected me that this was the head that Godzilla ripped off before the end fight, so the above point is invalid. Nice catch! Thank you!

-Nitpick: Did Mothra die? That was unclear. I hope not. She's the Queen. I'll have to ask some Godzilla fans to explain what they thought happened after Ghidorah blasted her in the final fight.

-Nitpick: Good God, these human characters survive shit that would easily kill a normal person and it is a little bit grating on the nerves to suspend your disbelief this hard.

-Nitpick: I hate it when monsters the size of fucking buildings somehow notice tiny ass humans enough to bother giving them their attention or even their ire. "An ant has no quarrel with a boot." I hated it in '98 Godzilla and I still hate it. Something on that scale should not even vaguely bother with one tiny human being, but that's me.

I know I have some very heavy criticisms, but this is still a decent flick if you're just going to shell out for a matinee showing. The monsters are great and entertaining and there's plenty of fighting to go around that is worth a peek, especially the end fight with Ghidorah and Godzilla. It was pretty cool to see in IMAX as well, but I leave that up to you folks if it's worth it.

Kyo out.

#godzilla #godzilla king of monsters #movie review #film review #warner bros #kaiju #monsters

9 notes · View notes

pengiesama · 6 years

Text

Dies Caniculares (Fic, Mikleo/Sorey, Fantasy/God AU) (Chapter 6/6)

Title: Dies Caniculares (Chapter 6/6) Series: Tales of Zestiria Pairing: Mikleo/Sorey

Summary: Mikleo dreams of travelling the world, having exciting adventures like his uncle. Unfortunately, he lives a pretty boring life in the tiny mountain village of Camlann. If he’s not working at his family’s temple, he’s having to deal with his mother’s constant attempts to match-make him to every eligible girl in town.

He also happens to be best friends with a god. That god happens to be a dog, who happens to be able to turn into a frustratingly handsome young man. Complications, as they do, inevitably crop up.

CHAPTER SIX:

Any intrepid adventurer needs a star to guide their path.

(CONTENT WARNING: shapeshifting, eventual mpreg.)

Link: AO3

This is a collaboration between me and @sensenaoya! I’m honored to be allowed to write for their wonderful AU, and even more honored to have their lovely art illustrating it!

Please heed all content warnings!

Check out my commission info here.

Read on Tumblr!

Michael quietly crept through the temple grounds, with his newest purchase from the town bookshop tucked inside his robes. He touched the outline of it under his clothes, his skin tingling from excitement at the feel of the hardcover, and the weight of the volume. It promised many hours of entertainment and nourishment for the brain and soul, and was worth every penny spent. (Which was incidentally very lucky for Michael, as it was quite expensive.) There was just the matter of…finding a spot to enjoy it.

Grandmother didn’t approve of reading “frivolous” literature. Grandmother didn’t approve of Michael exploring the forest outside of town. Grandmother didn’t approve of Michael spending time on things that didn’t involve the temple. Grandmother didn’t approve of a lot of things, and Michael had long stopped keeping track. He just assumed anything that was of interest to him was forbidden, and would have to be enjoyed in secret.

The bookshop in town knew from a few visits by stern-faced temple staff that they should not be selling the Young Master Rulay such puerile nonsense. The bookshop in town also knew Michael as their best customer, and had enough business sense to keep a secret or two. Normally, Michael would take his newest book purchases to the Mabinogio Temple; to be devoured in an afternoon, and then carefully stored in a secret trunk, covered in a waterproof tarp – safely tucked away from the prying eyes of his grandmother and her lackeys at the temple. (He thought about bringing his little sister, sometimes, but she was really still too young to make the hike up. Maybe in a few years – in the meantime, he memorized the books and narrated them to her at her bedside at night.) But he had been looking for this book for months. He’d pestered the bookshop owner daily, asking if they’d found a copy yet, asking how long it might take, again and again until they stuffed some of the latest science and archaeology journals into his hands to make him go away. But today, his persistence finally paid off – they’d located a copy, ordered it, and it was here. He finally had it. He simply couldn’t wait to read it – couldn’t manage the hike up to the Mabinogio Temple without spontaneously combusting.

The temple grounds around Maotelus’ chambers were usually pretty quiet around this time of day. The high priests performed the cleansing ritual in the early morning, and presented offerings at sundown and sunset. He’d never been allowed up there – most people weren’t, except for the most senior priests – but he was a quick study, and easily found a secluded spot, hidden away from those approaching from the lone path up the hillside. As long as Michael was quick about reading, and kept an eye out, he should be able to get through at least the first quarter of the book – enough to tide him over until he could tear himself away long enough to properly enjoy it at Mabinogio.

This was, at least, the plan. But no sooner had Michael sat down in a shady spot underneath the shrine awnings was he interrupted.

“What’s it about?”

Michael nearly jumped out of his skin, and only just managed to stop himself from making a break for it. The voice, however, was very much unlike any of the temple attendants. It was soft, young-sounding…and seemed to be projected directly inside his head. Michael squinted suspiciously at Maotelus’ shrine, at its sturdy hardwood walls and lack of windows.

“Your book. What’s it about?”

“…semiotics in pre-Asgard Era architecture,” Michael replied.

He heard the whisper of a page turning, and he spun around to see a pale white hand idly flipping through his book. His book. He scowled at the boy it was attached to; a boy that hadn’t been there a moment before, a boy no older than him. A boy with golden hair, dressed in dazzling white. His eyes were as green as the holy forest that surrounded the town.

“Sounds fascinating. But that’s quite a topic for someone your age,” said the boy.

“Look who’s talking,” Michael shot back.

The boy raised an eyebrow, but couldn’t help a smile from twitching at his mouth, nor a short titter of laughter.

“I guess you’ve got a point there. May I read with you?” asked the boy. “I’ll keep up with your pace, I promise.”

Michael seriously doubted that, even considering who he was speaking with. Michael was a very fast reader.

“…I guess,” Michael said. “As long as you keep an eye out for anyone coming. And as long as you don’t tell anyone I was here.”

The boy laughed again. It was a sound that seemed like it could make flowers bloom from dry soil.

“Of course. My lips are sealed.”

It was the beginning of a beautiful friendship. However, it was a friendship that had to be kept pretty firmly under wraps – Michael was very certain that this would fall under the category of the many things his grandmother didn’t approve of, and knew that he couldn’t tell a single soul about it; not even his little sister Muse. The idea of being forbidden from seeing his dear friend (“Call me Mao,” he’d told him) was soon something Michael couldn’t bear to think of. He’d never met anyone who was so easy to talk to, or so interested in whatever he had to say. He was interested in books, and traveling the world. And…it was nice, having this special secret. Having Mao all to himself, in this way. It seemed like he was almost made just for Michael. Everyone knew Maotelus from the etchings and grand banners that decorated the temples, from the prayer books and lucky charms, as a grand white dragon. Michael had never heard anyone speak of Mao as Mao, as the golden-haired boy who would tell Michael stories of far-flung places that Michael had only ever dreamed of seeing. The boy who would share with Michael the offerings presented to him by the priests, who always gave Michael a listening ear and a shoulder to cry on.

Sometimes, it seemed as though he’d never be able to leave this tiny town. When his grandmother passed, the honor of heading the temple was set to fall on Michael’s shoulders when he came of age – his mother was of Rulay lineage, but had little in the way of spiritual potential; especially when compared to her two children. It was simply logical to pass the title to Michael.

It almost seemed selfish of him to even consider leaving. He would be forcing Muse to take on the matter of running the temple, and leaving her behind. What’s more, he would be leaving Mao behind, without anyone there to keep him company, to share stories with him, to read with him…

“How has Muse been holding up? And little Mikleo.”

Michael shook his head and sighed. “She…she’s about as well as anyone could be, considering. I doubt Mikleo understands what’s happened – though I think he’s starting to chafe at all the extra attention and fretting.”

Muse’s husband was a good man, and it was a tragedy that Mikleo would never know him. But, though the never knowing was an ache unto itself, the knowing and loss was a far greater one. Perhaps it was a mercy.

Mao nodded. “She’s strong. And very capable. She’ll be able to manage the temple on her own easily, I think.”

Michael gave him a look. “Is this your way of threatening to fire me?”

Mao pursed his lips and blew a puff of silver flame into Michael’s face – it was painless, and smelled thickly of warm, smoky incense. Michael’s hair fluttered back into place as the warm air dissipated.

“Perish the thought,” Mao said. “But you’re going to have to start planning that journey of yours soon.”

The very idea set Michael’s teeth on edge, and made his heart ache in his chest.

“I can’t just dump everything on Muse and walk off,” Michael said. “Not now.”

“In a year or two, then. When you’ve had a chance to study and prepare.”

“But—”

“You and I both know that Muse already does the lion’s share of work around here,” Mao said drily. “I’m sure she wouldn’t really mind having the title of temple head officially.”

Michael lowered his chin, hiding his expression.

“Mikleo isn’t the only one Muse is hovering over right now. She won’t let me out of her sight, either. There’s no way she’d…she’d be up every night, fretting over where I was, whether I was safe.”

He felt Mao’s small white hand touch the back of his own. He’d never aged a day, ever since that fateful afternoon.

“I have to admit that I understand her concerns,” Mao said. “Which is why I’ll be watching over you personally.”

Before Michael could say a word, Mao pressed his hand to his chest; over his heart. The warmth that flooded into him was – overwhelming, like the sun on a brilliant summer day. It poured into every limb, every cell, every part of his being. He could hear his heartbeat and Mao’s heartbeat and the heartbeat of the earth itself; the buzzing pulse of the land and all its creation. In that moment, everything was linked – he could feel Muse’s grief and determination, Mikleo’s innocent love, his confusion and loneliness. He could feel a lingering sorrow, and a forlorn hope; a man’s voice: She’s a stronger woman than you realize. She will stand tall. But please – won’t you spend a few more years with my wife and son, to be certain they’re well? He’s still so young, and so lonely—

“Hey, come on. I don’t want to have to call the priests up here…”

Michael’s vision swam back into focus. He clutched at the still-burning pulse in his chest, and stared at Mao, wide-eyed, waiting for an explanation. Mao breathed a sigh of relief, and, though exhaustion was plain on his face, so was an expression of satisfaction.

“I’ve shared part of my power with you,” he explained. “No matter where you go, no matter how far you travel, we’ll always be connected. I’ll always be able to protect you – you need fear no injury, no disease, no thirst or starvation. Should you travel so far that you arrive at another continent, and another god’s domain, they will sense my power in you and aid you.”

Michael crawled upright; leaning heavily on Mao, who permitted the affront to his heavenly dignity, as he always did. Finally, Michael was on his feet, and was able to breathe deeply enough to clear his head.

“Mao…you…”

Mao raised an eyebrow. “If you’re going to try and get me to go back on this, I’ll have you know that I don’t want to hear it. No takesies-backsies. I may have let you leave Camlann without a blessing a few years ago, but you’re pushing thirty, and I don’t want you breaking your hip out there.”

Helpless laughter bubbled out of Michael’s chest, and he sank to his knees heavily to bundle Mao into a tight hug. Mao returned the embrace, with vigor.

“Always connected, huh?” Michael asked. “So I can argue with you about journals even from a thousand miles away?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Mao replied.

And so, Michael stayed a few more years in town to put the temple and family affairs in order before setting off on his journey. Muse worried, as was her way, but – true to form – she stood tall and determined, managing the temple with ease and brilliance. Mikleo devoured tales of his uncle’s travels, and soon, his kind heart and inquisitive nature earned him a lifelong friend and companion. This is a story you surely already know.

This brings us to the matter of Maotelus and his condition.

A god of the land must extend their power to bless their domain – it is a sleepless, eternal affair, and a constant drain on one’s energy; even one as mighty as a god. Without this protection, the land and all its inhabitants would fall to the rot of malevolence, to the cruel whims of the weather and humanity’s carelessness. This godly power is regained through human worship, and through the tireless efforts of the temple staff – every bit of malevolence attended to by the priests and attendants was a tiny bit of the load off a god’s back.

The temple at Camlann was well-managed, and its staff tireless. The people of Camlann were faithful and dutiful. By all means, Maotelus should have remained in good health for many years. But his generous gift to Michael came with a cost that he did not anticipate.

Expending so much power at once – essentially creating a walking domain, and one that indeed walked very, very far; over hill and dale and far away – sent Maotelus into a deficit of health that he could not ever quite manage to climb out of. Day by day, year by year, the deficit and its burden grew heavier and heavier. Maotelus in his godly form, once a grand white dragon the size of the temple itself, shrank smaller and smaller. There were few people to comment on it; few people who came calling, and fewer still who spoke to him with such familiarity and care as Michael had. He suffered quietly, and unnoticed.

Maotelus could sleep for a little while – a short nap, five or ten years, perhaps – to regain his strength and be well once more. But without his full attention, the land would waste away…and he could sense a foul air from Ladylake, the scent of greed and corruption growing ever stronger. He would have to remain awake, and vigilant; keeping one eye on that city and one eye on the town, and an eye on the mountains and surrounding lands, and an eye on Michael as well, and an eye on Muse and Mikleo, to keep his promise, and…

He could also just summon Michael back to Camlann, revoke his blessing, and re-absorb his power. It was certainly an idea that crossed Mao’s mind, as things grew dire – his duty was to the land and its people, not one man. Even so, Mao could never quite bring himself to it. What if such a thing wound up hurting Michael, or even killing him? Yanking godly power from a mortal’s chest was surely not without its consequences. He did not breathe a word of it, or of any of his struggles, to Michael when he came by yearly to visit.

If this course of events was allowed to continue, he would surely die, and the land along with him. Maotelus was at a loss. He was backed into a corner, with no one to turn to.

That is, until that young, wandering dog god came to town…

“…we became pretty good friends over the years, and after a while, he asked me a favor,” Sorey continued to explain. “He didn’t want to put any of this on me, but he had no choice. While Mao sleeps, I’ll be the land god in his place.”

There were no dramatic gasps or shouts of surprise – the three gathered humans simply continued to stare at Sorey, still trying to process his story, and what was happening. Sorey scratched at his ear, shifting his weight from foot to foot at the awkward silence. Maotelus snoozed peacefully in his arms. Sorey thought he should probably find a nice pillow or cat bed to put him on while he rested.

“I-it’s only temporary, until he’s done regaining his strength…you won’t have to change up any of the temple rituals or rewrite any of the prayers. I’m sorry I didn’t tell anyone sooner, but Mao told me not to, and…and there wasn’t anything anyone could have done…”

“No,” Michael said quietly. “There was.”

Sorey frowned, then approached Michael, with Maotelus in his arms. He waited until the man looked him in the eyes.

“Uncle Michael. You’re so precious to Mao. Take it from another god – when we grow fond of a mortal, there’s no force in heaven or earth that will keep us from trying to make them happy.”

Michael stared at Sorey, then cast a quick side-eyed look to Muse and Mikleo.

“Oh,” Mikleo said almost absently. “Uncle Michael, meet Sorey. He’s not actually a dog.”

“I really love your work,” Sorey said sincerely. “And hearing your travel stories. And your belly-rubs.”

“Ah,” Michael said quietly, rather unruffled by the revelation. He was pretty hard to fluster in general, and the whole Maotelus situation was taking up his Fluster Quota for the moment.

Sorey held out the sleeping Maotelus, and Michael slowly, haltingly, accepted him into his arms. Maotelus continued to sleep; not stirring a bit from the pass-off.

“He didn’t want to tell you. He didn’t want to hurt you by taking back his power, or to force you to give up your dream,” Sorey explained. “He just wants to protect you and this town, and to make everyone happy. This place is his home, after all. And…it’s mine now, too. My home, and…and Mikleo’s.”

Muse seemed to snap out of the shock of the situation, and – with a determination and resolve that had kept the temple strong even through Maotelus’ secret illness – took the helm to steer them back onto a proper path.

“I will call for an emergency meeting of the most senior staff and we will be up to perform the purification ritual shortly,” Muse stated. She bowed low to Sorey. “We will also arrange a spot for Lord Maotelus to sleep safely; a spot that suits the radiance of his station.”

Sorey supposed that meant they probably wouldn’t be okay with him sleeping on a cat bad. But, as long as Mao was safe and comfortable during his rest, Sorey was happy.

Michael sat down in the shrine, Maotelus still in his arms – he clearly wasn’t going to be much for any further conversation. Sorey gave Mikleo a meaningful glance, and they both quietly left the shrine; leaving the two of them alone for a moment until the priests came up. And so they, too, were alone – outside the shrine, listening to the wind rustle the trees.

The silence was…awkward. Sorey supposed that was to be expected – they’d both had a pretty busy twenty-four hours. Sorey reached out for Mikleo’s hand; his heart warming as Mikleo’s fingers curled around his own. He smiled bright and warm at him, and leaned in to press a kiss to that lovely jawline.

“This is good, right?” Sorey asked. “Your mom won’t pressure you anymore. She knows about me, and…and us. And now that Uncle Michael is here, you can go with him whenever he’s ready to leave—”

“Sorey.” Mikleo’s voice was soft and reassuring, and horribly gentle. “I can’t leave.”

Sorey’s heart dropped into his stomach. “But…you can, your mother said she was okay with it…and, and Maotelus’ protection is still on Michael, so you’ll both be safe on the road…”

Mikleo squeezed his hand. “There’s no point if you’re not by my side. It’s fine, Sorey. I’ll stay here with you, to support you.”

Sorey understood on an intellectual level why Maotelus hadn’t called Michael back to town, even if it was for the good of his whole domain. And now, he understood it on an emotional level.

“Mikleo. Please,” Sorey begged. “It’s always been your dream, ever since we met…you have to go with your uncle, and see the world.”

“It’s fine,” Mikleo said, more firmly. “You’ll need support while Maotelus sleeps. Ten or fifteen years is nothing.”

“It’s something when you’ve always wanted to travel with your uncle. He’s not as young as he used to be, Mikleo – in ten or fifteen years, he’ll be in no state to travel, even with Mao’s blessing. And…what if it’s not just a few years? What if I’m not strong enough to help Mao, and you’re just waiting here, for twenty, thirty years, or…”

Sorey’s voice faltered at the very thought of it. Mikleo stroked his cheek, and trailed the touch up and back to pet his hair, until Sorey’s breathing calmed.

“Do you really think I can just leave you here, after all that’s happened?” Mikleo asked. He sounded so hurt, so confused. “After what happened last night? For god’s sake, Sorey, even without all that, you’re still my closest friend, and you think that I somehow can just…pack up and leave with a smile on my face…”

“You’ve been stuck here so long,” Sorey said mournfully. “I’ve seen how much it tears you up, how much you resented it. I can’t…I can’t stand to have you resent me…”

Mikleo’s fingers loosened around Sorey’s hand.

“You said that Maotelus told you about his predicament ages ago,” Mikleo said. “Honestly, were you just planning on letting me leave town without you this whole time? Were you ever really planning on coming with me?”

Sorey swallowed hard and grasped for Mikleo’s retreating hand. “Mikleo. I was, I swear I was.”

“It’s fine,” Mikleo repeated. “All I ever wanted was a choice, and it’s my choice now to stay. Don’t feel guilty.”

A retinue of priests was making their way up to the shrine, bearing flasks of holy water, scrolls, incense, sacred bells. Mikleo rose to his feet, and bowed deeply to Sorey.

“The priests will perform the purification ritual,” Mikleo said. “If you’ll excuse me, someone still needs to convince Alisha to untie herself.”

The week passed in a blur.

There was work to be done, and every caretaker of the shrine, from the most novice attendant to the highest of priests, was on deck to handle it. The changing god – even though it was only a temporary arrangement – was utterly unprecedented, and the tension it created was palpable. Even so, Sorey seemed to be a natural at the position. With Maotelus’ lingering power as his support, amplifying his own, the dark fog of malevolence that lingered in town – lurking in corners and staining the fields, a persistent blackness that could not seem to be purified even with dozens of blessings – was finally chased away.

On the topic of the chasing-away of persistent annoyances, the surveying team from Ladylake was also forcibly ejected from the holy mountain. But this was not due to Sorey’s power – although his domain fortified the land they sought to desecrate, it was not in Sorey’s nature to bring down anything resembling heavenly wrath. Fortunately, Alisha was more than happy to serve the purpose when informed of her countrymen’s illegal presence and nefarious designs on the mountain’s holy grounds, and their cruel and undignified treatment of her dear friend’s uncle. Steeled with purpose, and high on the feeling of being recognized by the heavens for her pillar-tying vigil, she set out into the forest with the full intent of chasing the surveyors all the way back to Ladylake on foot.

And, fortunately, Mikleo was able to get ahold of Rose before Alisha made her dream a reality. With Rose’s assistance and support, they quickly apprehended the team and extracted a full confession of their misdeeds and Mayor Diphda’s involvement in the plot. (Mikleo knew better than to ask Rose about her information-gathering methods, if he wanted to still be able to sleep at night.) It was quick, and bloodless, for which Mikleo was thankful. He had always been concerned about keeping the land as free from unnecessary bloodshed as possible; to ensure Maotelus’ good health. But, he now had an even more personal investment.

“Don’t worry,” Rose assured him before they left. “I’ll see to it that these chumps and their boss see justice. You’ve got enough on your plate right now.”

She and Alisha were headed back to Ladylake with the captured team, accompanied by a retinue of priests – to testify against the trespassers on Camlann land. Mikleo had faith that justice would be served.

“Thank you,” Mikleo said. “You’ve done Camlann a great service, and we remain in your debt.”

Rose winked and poked Mikleo in the chest lightly. “Now, don’t say things like that to me unless you really mean it. I could think of a lot of ways you guys could repay me, but…I’ll take a while to settle on it.”

“…during our march, I beseech you to reflect on your misdeeds; not only snubbing your nose at the heavens, but also not caring a whit about the well-being of your fellow man…” Alisha went on, lecturing their captives.

“Just make sure she doesn’t tie herself to a tree trunk in the forest on the way down,” Mikleo said wearily.

Rose sighed, but Mikleo saw the fond smile on her face, and the look in her eyes as she gazed at Alisha.

“You don’t need to tell me.”

Another week passed, and Mikleo worked, and worked, and worked. He led teams to comb the town looking for lingering taint; inspecting everything with a fretful, obsessive eye, as if he was a new bride cleaning house for her in-laws’ first visit. Truthfully, he needed something to fill the hours – his schedule had been freed up quite considerably. No more dates to waste his time and test his patience. No more arguments. No more days out at the waterfall. No more lazy afternoons sharing snacks at the Mabinogio Temple. No more evenings in the temple garden, quietly watching the stars come out. No more late nights reading. No more hours spent picking feathers out of his bedsheets and clothes. No more sleep lost because of a dog snoring in his ear in bed. Mikleo didn’t quite know what to do with himself, anymore.

“How is Michael doing?” Sorey asked, in a small, hopeful voice. “Do you think he’ll be going back on the road soon?”

Michael was not one to malinger, and – to Muse’s great annoyance – he had been hobbling around the temple grounds in a matter of days after his encounter with the intruders on the mountain.

“He’s almost fully recovered, and should be leaving in a few days,” Mikleo confirmed. “He’s up at the Mabinogio Temple today, doing restoration work.”

“You’ve done so much work on it over the years yourself,” Sorey said earnestly. “Does he—”

“He’s noticed,” Mikleo interrupted, curtly. “And had a few disagreements with me on some of our restoration choices.”

Sorey shifted uncomfortably at Mikleo’s tone. Or perhaps it was discomfort from the elaborate robes he had been given to wear as part of his new station. They were beautiful – the intricate embroidered swirls, the delicate feather trim, the flow of the voluminous sleeves, and the flutter of tails at the back as he walked. They were also so very unsuited to Sorey – Mikleo couldn’t count how many times Sorey had nearly tripped on the hem of the robes when he was trying to get down the stairs to greet him. And they got dirty so easily…not that Mikleo had the privilege of being the one to provide Sorey with his ritual baths, anymore. It was no longer his duty to care for Sorey, to tend to him and help him with his day-to-day needs – that was the domain of the high priests.

He just didn’t quite know what to do with himself, anymore.

“Maybe…you could talk it out with him a little more?” Sorey offered.

“He’ll be leaving in a few days, like I said. No one has ever managed to change Uncle Michael’s mind on an academic subject that quickly.”

“…w-well, you could always…talk it out on the road?”

“No,” Mikleo said. “Not a possibility.”

“But—”

The sun was setting. Mikleo went to his knees and bowed deeply to Sorey, pressing his forehead to the hem of those lovely, completely unsuitable robes.

“Thank you for taking the time to speak to me, my lord,” Mikleo murmured. “I will take my leave so you are able to retire.”

“Mikleo.” Sorey’s voice was so quiet, so defeated. “Please.”

Mikleo looked up at him from under the fall of his hair, and, without breaking eye contact, lifted the hem of Sorey’s robes to his lips to kiss.

He could live a happy life, here, at Sorey’s feet. He would be happy, and fulfilled.

But he hoped every day that his uncle would be well enough to leave as soon as possible, without him, so the nagging longing in his chest would finally cease.

Soon, the time had come: Michael was well enough to begin his journey once more; well enough that even Muse admitted he was more than ready to strike out. There was the matter of gathering supplies for the road, and Michael requested Mikleo’s assistance in town to that end.

“You know, your mother told me that she’s given you her blessing. I would have thought you’d have leapt at the chance to leave.”

Mikleo went quiet, and turned over the box of granola bars in his hand, as if pretending to be engrossed in its nutritional facts.

“…I would have thought that, too,” Mikleo finally admitted. “Not too long ago.”

Michael looked at him expectantly. “…well? What’s stopping you? Adventure and wonder await, and all that. You’re younger than I was when I first set out, so you’ve still got that idiocy to power you along through sleepless nights. I have to admit that it’d be a bonus having someone with youth on their side along.”

“Uncle…” Mikleo began, and trailed off. He couldn’t quite put his feelings into words.

“I’m admittedly not the most pleasant company all the time,” Michael said. “If the various archaeological and historical communities have any merit to their complaints about me. But I have a feeling that’s not why you’re hesitating.”

“How can you…” Mikleo set the box down, and leaned heavily against the shelf. “How can you just leave him? After all he’s sacrificed for you? How can you just pack up and go, as if everything’s perfectly normal? After you’ve spent your whole life with him, after you’ve shared everything with him, after you promised to see the world with him and now you can’t and might never be able to, and…”

Michael’s expression went soft, and he allowed Mikleo to settle himself before reaching out a hand to gently touch his shoulder – lightly, giving him space to shrug him off if needed.

“Mao gave me his blessing with the explicit direction to see the world, and fulfill my dreams,” Michael said. “He just about kicked me out the door in the process, and was so determined that I keep at it that…we are where we are now. If I gave up now and hung around here just waiting around for him, I’d never hear the end of it when he does wake up – and when he does, I’ll have stories for him, and more books under my belt, and a satisfaction that means I’ll never need to leave him again. I’ll have spent my life doing what I love, instead of torturing myself, and building up resentment. Resentment isn’t a good look on anyone, especially a priest – you’re supposed to clean up malevolence, no? Not drag it everywhere you go like you stepped in something.”

Mikleo was quiet.

“But…”

“If I gave you a pair of hiking boots, and you never wore them – just stacked them on your shelf to make sure they never got worn out or scuffed – is that really how I wanted my gift to be used? I’m thankful for everything Mao has done for me, and this is my way of proving it.”

“This isn’t about hiking boots,” Mikleo said with no little disdain.

“It isn’t,” Michael agreed. “And I know you’re smart enough to understand a metaphor when you hear one.”

“Mikleo. You have a date this afternoon.”

Now that was a phrase Mikleo had thought he’d never have to hear again. Moreover, this was hardly the time – Michael was leaving tomorrow, and on top of that, there were appointments to tend to. Mikleo raised an eyebrow at his mother.

“I know,” Muse said, holding up her hands in a gesture of surrender. “I promised. But I simply couldn’t refuse – they were very insistent that they be given a chance. They’ll be waiting at the Spring Breeze. I re-assigned your appointments to other priests. Try to enjoy yourself, won’t you? And be on your best behavior.”

Very insistent, indeed. The Spring Breeze wasn’t even open during the daytime, normally – this girl must have slipped Zaveid a tidy sum to get him to get him to deviate from his usual daytime schedule of keeping house and visiting the elementary school where Lailah taught. Whatever the case was, Mikleo was no longer on the market – which wasn’t something that had been formally announced to the town, of course, for obvious reasons. Mikleo was in a certain mood today – a mood of aching nostalgia and thwarted longing at Michael’s impending departure. He would have loved to be left alone to brood, but he would spare a few minutes to go to the bar, get a drink, and gently turn down this determined creature. Perhaps she could spread the word about his removal from the dating market, so he wouldn’t have to.

He sighed deeply as he stood in front of the bar’s door, and rolled his shoulders once before stepping inside.

“Mikleo! Good to see you,” Zaveid greeted him warmly. “You got quite a honey waiting for you, let me just—”

He scrutinized Mikleo up and down; straightening his clothes and collar, wiping Mikleo’s face with a warm washcloth and spinning him around once before he apparently passed muster as being date-ready. Satisfied, Zaveid bowed at the waist, and gestured to a table tucked into the corner; decorated with a fine tablecloth and a vase of fresh flowers, and where Mikleo’s date was waiting for him.

“I hope you found your way here okay,” Sorey said.

Sorey. A date, with Sorey. Mikleo could hardly hear his thoughts over his racing heart, and he stood rooted to the floor where he stood; staring at the sight before him. Sorey was dressed in a yukata that suited him just perfectly; the cut highlighting the strong line of his shoulders and broadness of his chest, the dark blue pattern setting off the sparkling gold of his hair. His movements flowed so gracefully and easily; the fabric looked like it had been tailored just for him – had his mother been plotting this all along, sewing and scheming late at night these past few weeks? Mikleo felt so horribly underdressed for the occasion. Before he could run off (or stand there staring any longer), Zaveid intervened and shoved him forward; marching him over to the table with his hands on his shoulders.

“Go on now. Be a gentleman, don’t keep him waiting.”

Mikleo sat heavily in the chair across from Sorey, and stared open-mouthed for a few moments before collecting himself enough to speak.

“I…Sorey, what is all of this…?”

Sorey sniffed and leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs primly and folding his hands in his lap.

“Is this how you treat all your dates?” Sorey asked in mock-offense. “Come on. You’re supposed to ask me about myself.”

Mikleo laughed helplessly – laughed for the first time in weeks, it seemed.

“Honestly, Sorey…okay, okay.”

Mikleo stood up, bowed at the waist, and held out his hand to Sorey. Sorey gave Mikleo his hand without hesitation, and Mikleo gave it a brief squeeze before leaning in to kiss his knuckles. He gazed at Sorey from under his lashes.

“It’s a pleasure to be asked out by someone so lovely. I hope you weren’t waiting too long.”

The gesture seemed to rob Sorey of that confidence he’d had just a few moments ago. Sorey squeaked and turned beet red, and cradled his kissed hand to his chest when Mikleo finally released it. “N-no. Not at all. I was just, you know, catching up on some reading…”

“Oh?” Mikleo asked. “What kind of things are you interested in reading?”

“Um. Well.”

Sorey took a moment to compose himself. Finally, he settled his dear hand in his lap, and gave Mikleo a shy smile.

“History books and travel journals are probably my personal favorites, but I secretly really love romance novels and poetry. Don’t make fun of me, okay?”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Mikleo assured him. “Have you ever told anyone about that except for me?”

“No…no, I thought I’d get teased for it. The place where I live has a pretty big library, but not much in that category. A few, though. I’ve read them so many times, I could probably quote them word-for-word. I always secretly hoped they’d get more.”

“I can’t imagine how anyone could ever say no to you,” Mikleo said. “I’m sure your housemates would give you anything you asked for.”

Sorey laughed and reached up to play with his feather earring. “Well, I hear ‘no’ often enough. I need it sometimes, though. My housemate looks after me, and keeps me in line.”

Sorey reached out, stroked his fingers over the back of Mikleo’s hand.

“Enough about me, though. I want to hear more about you. What do you like to do in your free time? I’ve heard that your schedule is usually pretty packed.”

“Well,” Mikleo said. “I’m interested in historical preservation. I keep the nearby temple in the mountains, and like to unwind at the waterfall that’s around there. I like cooking, when I get the chance; desserts are my specialties. I like to read, as well. Travel and history.”

“I bet your vanilla ice cream is just the best,” Sorey said dreamily. “But I’m glad you have so much that you’re passionate about. Where do you think you see yourself in five or ten years?”

Mikleo raised an eyebrow. “Sorey. Is this a date or a job interview?”

“If we’re going to work in the long-term, I need to know what your career goals are,” Sorey said. “My family would never approve of me marrying a man without good prospects.”

Family…yes, of course Sorey had family of his own. Mikleo had known from the start that Sorey was a descendant of the great lord Zenrus, so it shouldn’t have been a surprise to hear. Regardless, Mikleo couldn’t help but blanch a bit, his heart skipping at the thought of having to prove himself to heavenly in-laws. He was from a well-established family, and had a good job, and had proper manners…but was that really enough to impress a whole family of gods?

Mikleo shook off the feeling. That could wait a few years. Right now, Sorey had asked him a question.

“I see myself with the one I love,” Mikleo said. “And you?”

Sorey cupped Mikleo’s hand, and covered it with his own.

“I want the one I love to be happy, even if him being happy means that we have to be apart for a little while,” he said. “I want him to be true to himself, and follow what he’s always dreamed of. And, since I can’t go with him right now, I want to take care of the home I share with him, to make sure that it’s even more beautiful when he comes back to me. I know he’ll come back, no matter what. And I’ll be right at the gates waiting to welcome him home.”

Mikleo couldn’t quite keep his hand from shaking. Sorey stroked his thumb over it, which only seemed to make it worse. Suddenly, Sorey was rising from his seat, rounding the table, and drawing Mikleo close to his chest, making soothing noises and stroking his hair. Mikleo tried to will the tears from his eyes before they stained Sorey’s beautiful clothes.

“Sorey,” Mikleo sobbed. “It won’t be the same without you. It won’t be right.”

“Mikleo…” Sorey sighed. “Have you ever wondered why we can change form? To make ourselves look like humans, or like other living things?”

Mikleo stared up at Sorey with swollen, red eyes.

“I…” he croaked out. He cleared his throat. “I, I suppose I’ve wondered, but…I thought it was just a…godly…thing.”

“I never really understood it, either,” Sorey admitted. “I mean, worship from humans and other creatures makes us strong, and helps us care for our domains. But we can live without it, especially if we don’t have any sort of domain we need to maintain – like me, when I was walking the earth. I loved watching humans, but it was always from afar. I was too afraid to get closer. And then I met a little boy who gave me his wet coat, and then I was able to take on this form, and…I understood. Taking on a human form lets us connect with humans, connect with other living creatures that we’ve bonded with, in a way that we never could otherwise. It lets us live by your side, and…and, u-um, start families, if you’re interested in that kind of thing…”

Mikleo’s mind barely had time to process the idea before Sorey continued.

“…and, that connection…it can let you live by my side, too. Forever, if you want it.”

If Mikleo had just heard him right, Sorey had just offered Mikleo a family, and eternity. Mikleo could scarcely believe his ears.

“You wouldn’t age, or get sick. You wouldn’t feel hunger or thirst. But…it can only be you, Mikleo. Just you, and no one else.” Sorey dropped his gaze, guilty. “Your friends and family would pass on without you. They’d go on to the next life, and you’d never see them again.”

There were tears at the edges of Sorey’s eyes, now. The sight made Mikleo’s heart fall from his chest.

“It’s just like I was afraid of, all those years. I wanted you to be by my side forever, but I could never ask that of you. It just…wasn’t right.”

“Sorey.” Mikleo went to his knees in front of Sorey, and took his hand in his own. “Are you asking me now?”

The look on Sorey’s face was one of perfect surprise, before it crumpled into tears. Mikleo nuzzled into Sorey’s palm, pressing kisses there, murmuring gentle reassurances while Sorey wept.

“Sorey. Please, ask me.”

Sorey shook his head fiercely, his earrings jingling with the motion.

“You don’t know what you’re asking, you don’t…you’ll see them grow old and die and you’ll have to just keep going, and there’ll be no one left who remembers them, and no one who understands…”

“I’ll have you. And you’ll have me,” Mikleo swore. “Forever.”

Sorey buried his face in his sleeve for a moment, then took a deep, shuddering breath. He lowered his arm, and his face was a mask of godly composure, with an underlying determination that brooked no argument.

“Travel with your uncle, see the world, and return to me in five years. Tell me stories, bring back gifts and treasures from your journey. After that, I’ll ask you. And you can accept, or deny. But no matter what your choice is, please remember that I’ll always be with you.”

Mikleo bowed low, pressing his forehead to the ground before Sorey’s feet.

“Yes, my lord. It will be as you say.”

There was still time to prepare to leave with Michael, and to explain the situation to his mother. Mikleo’s mind raced with thoughts of all that needed to be done – packing, planning, budgeting for all the romance and poetry books he’d be sending home. He rose to his feet, and gathered Sorey into his arms; hugging him tightly. Sorey returned the embrace with just as much fervor.

“Please be safe,” Sorey whispered. “Mao’s protection will be on you both, but…”

“I will,” Mikleo assured him. “We will. Can I ask something of you, as well?”

“Of course,” Sorey said. “Anything.”

Mikleo leaned in to Sorey’s ear, and pressed a brief kiss there.

“Think of some baby names while I’m away, won’t you?”

Mikleo could feel Sorey’s blush burning against his neck when he buried his face there.

“…o-okay.”

–

Chapter Directory

First - Next - Last

#mikleo/sorey #miksor #mikusore #sorey/mikleo #soymilk #soremiku #suremiku #tales of zestiria #i guess this is my personal tales of zestiria tag now #a tenderly crafted fanfiction #commissions #writing commissions

9 notes · View notes

yoiotdfics · 6 years

Text

Fic Recs for the Month of November 2016

Triple Axel by terunakamura

Summary:

Yuuri is so in love with Victor that he gets too distracted to do his jumps. What better solution than to avoid the problem?

fight for you, write for you by third

Summary:

The thing is, Yuuri had completely forgotten about his account on Figure Skating! until he sees the email in his inbox. He doesn’t know how he ends up awake at 3 AM defending Victor’s reputation from strangers on the internet.

Melting Point by cirrus (themorninglark)

Summary:

Katsuki Yuuri waves an awkward greeting at him. Yuri feels his blood rising, whirls and whips away. He’s definitely out of step now. Not that it matters. Not that he needs any more practice to beat Yuuri to a pulp.

In which a conversation takes place off the ice, and Yuri Plisetsky considers fragments, shards, and space to breathe.

Looking for a clue by neerappi

Summary:

It takes one touch and Yuuri’s head goes haywire.

Dear Mama by Ferrero13

Summary:

In which Victor writes letters to his mother, who is fifty percent of his rationality and self-control.

Cheering for You by gawsoloy

Summary:

The tissue box cover shielded his face, as if it was an impenetrable barrier to keep the stunning man in front of him from starting into his soul.

Learn to Love Yourself by SocialDegenerate

Summary:

Victor teaches Yuuri to become more attuned to his sexual side.

“Tonight,” Victor said, and his thumbs were rubbing little circles on Yuuri’s hips, making him painfully aware of the slight layer of fat that still padded some of his stomach, “I want you to become more comfortable with your body.”

Lift Me Up by ca_te

Summary:

Before Victor came barging into his life, Yuuri didn’t know what love was. Then Victor arrived and lifted his heart up. Ep 5 reaction ficlet!

Iced by Sandyclaws68

Summary:

A hard fall, ice packs, the Cyrillic alphabet, and Viktor all combine into one oddly comfortable situation.

Ice Posters, Warm Pictures by StorySongs

Summary:

Yuuri’s walls don’t stay blank forever, but this time he fills them with pictures of the real Victor.

What are we? by angel_ponders

Summary:

The media picks up on the close relationship between Yuuri and Victor, which forces Yuuri to confront him about the nature of their relationship.

And then cuddles, because we need cuddles.

What do you Want from me? by Goombella123

Summary:

The one in which they’re dating in all but name.

Mild spoilers past episode 3.

Hold my Heart by Gilrael

Summary:

Yuuri can see Victor’s mouth move, but he might as well be speaking Russian – all Yuuri can think about are the three words he’s been practising in his rare moments of privacy. He’s this close to saying them, they are burning on his tongue, filling his mind…

Sparks in The Snow by nuclearchinchilla

Summary:

Guang Hong Ji peeled Viktor’s thong off his head, throwing it aside, along with any remaining shred of his dignity. Honestly, he was just here to pretend to like hotpot, and he was feeling so traumatized right now.

Out in the cold, the red of the restaurant’s lanterns shone like large beads against the white streets and black-framed snack stands.

Sexy and I Know it, But Not by InsominiacArrest

Leo and Guang-Hong end up trying to increase their ‘sex appeal’ after seeing this year’s competition, they laugh, they cry, they look silly in a local park

Show Me by actualgayrobot

Summary:

Yuuri finds himself hot and bothered after his most recent Eros performance, wanting nothing more than some alone time in a private room to sort out his problems. He doesn’t plan to drag Viktor with him, it just kind of… happens.

A sister knows by preciousbunnynoiz

Summary:

Everyone says that Victor is a terrible flirt but Mari isn’t convinced.

Off the Ice by Lirillith read by Rhea314 (Rhea)

Summary: Guang-Hong Ji saw a lot more than naked Victor at that restaurant.

Old Wounds by YuYam

Summary:

It’s when Viktor takes off his shirt to change when Yuuri notices a small scar he’s never seen before on his upper back. He reaches a hand forward, his fingers lightly brushing the shiny pink skin, and he blushes when Viktor turns to acknowledge him. “Would you like to see more?”

stranger in the shell of a lover by astralelegies

Summary:

“Victor Nikiforov had always been just the right level of unattainable—an international skating celebrity who was close enough to dream about but remained constantly out of reach. Yuuri would see him at competitions, hoping for a chance to meet, praying that they wouldn’t, and thus a reasonable balance between reality and his own wilful illusion was maintained. Now Victor was his coach, his reality, and the balance was changing. He was on thin ice.”

For You, For Me by Val_Creative

Leo shares his headphones with Guang-Hong, making him flustered about how close they are. Having an unrequited crush feels disappointing, until maybe it’s just not unrequited at all.

Masquerade by Ashida

Summary:

“Just say the word.” came the whisper as Victor stepped close, behind them Yuuri was aware of guns out and at the ready, of confused men and questioned loyalties, here Victor was offering, and Yuuri was too selfish to say no.

“Ok.” Yuuri smiled as this game of masquerade came to an end, what would happen now, he didn’t know, he would probably die, his family would come after him and try to put a knife in his back or a bullet between his eyes, none of it mattered, because together they would fight, and the rest of the world would finally burn.

a single vowel in this metallic silence by 100demons

Summary: “Kissing you still feels like a surprise,” Yuri says thoughtfully.Post Episode 7.

Slow it down by SportsAnimeRuinedMyLife (KnightOfRage)

Summary: "At first, he looked at Yuuri and he just wanted.But then he started looking at Yuuri and wanting to protect him, to make him happy.Now he looks at Yuuri and he wants everything with him.It’s terrifying.“Or…people have always been easy for Victor. Yuuri is the exception to the rule.

When Everything Calms by lizo1294

Summary: After the kiss on the ice, Yuuri needs to be alone with Victor. But he’s also exhausted. He really should have taken that nap before the competition.

After the Free Skate by Arisprite

Summary: After everything that had happened, Yuri’s exhaustion is catching up to him. Victor’s arm is warm around his shoulders.

Strictly Professional by sqbr

Summary: Yuuri is deeply scandalised when he finds out everyone thinks he’s dating Victor.

The Aftermath of Sleepless Nights by JDGambit

Summary: Agape, eros, he felt it all and more and, he knew, with certainty that Yuuri felt the same. And wasn’t that just amazing?

AfterShocks by trixiechick

Summary: the reactions to The Kiss™ Seen Around the Skating World

In All of Creation by flyingcrane

Summary:

Yuuri knows everyone - friends, rivals, coaches, even strangers - have given Victor the “don’t break his heart” speech. He’s not surprised when it’s his turn, but he doesn’t expect to get it from his own mother.

Some Tender Love and Care by Momus

Summary: Victor tends to Yuuri after a long day of competition.

if only by nsykdk

Summary:

What if Victor never meant that kiss?

The Trouble With Boyfriends and Dogs by Wolfs_Ayame

Summary:

Makkachin is a boyfriend thief, Victor just wants to sleep, and Yuuri is a sass master.

Based off a Tumblr prompt challenge given to me by my friend Sachiro: “You can’t banish me, this is my bed too!”

Tomorrow the world breathes again by perennials

Summary:

“Can I touch you?”

“We’re holding hands. You already are.“

“Then, can I touch you more?”

Thunder comes after by calciseptine

Summary:

“Touch me,” Victor demands.

For Makkachin by anomeganeyatsu

Summary:

The moment he hears the words Makkachin, hospital and not gonna make it in the same sentence his mind flashes back to Vicchan.

Bridge-Passage by Eithe

Summary:

Yuuri and Victor are figuring out how to build a partnership, but it’s hard when their best common language is nonverbal.

When He’s Not Even Trying by qwartooty

Summary:

“Do you have any kinks?”

Viktor looked down at Phichit, surprised. “Excuse me?”

“Fetishes. Turn-ons. Things that make you go, ‘Oooh! Wow! Yeah!’”

“I know what a kink is. Why are you asking me that kind of question?”

“Don’t look so scandalized. It’s for my psychology project. Which I just told you about, but you were too busy drooling over Yuuri to listen,” Phichit said.

(post episode 7 - In which Viktor is enlightened, Phichit is a little shit, and Yuuri frantically searches for ways to keep surprising Viktor)

Momentum by YankingAwry

Summary:

Here was how the scene went in Yuuri’s head:

Victor, frozen, clueless: the ruins of a smile on his face. But Yuuri, I thought you knew! It was only to surprise you. It meant nothing more-

Yuuri: spine limp, head hanging, tears streaking down his face and collecting at his chin, dripping like an old faucet onto the ground. Words exploding out of his mouth, wet, glottal: Then just stop! Stop doing things that mean nothing to you, and everything to me!

Too Much, Not Enough by iceprinceofbelair

Summary: Viktor cuts his hair.

Sunrise and Winter Snow by Crimsonpheonix271

Summary:

Sometimes Yuuri just wants to enjoy his only day off, and sometimes Makkachin disagrees with that plan. Victor just wants to stay warm and comfortable, and attached to Yuuri.

A Member of the Family by TheUnforgivables

Summary:

Victor returns to Japan to check on Makkachin. While traveling, he muses about family and how Makkachin is pretty much the only family he has.

One Surprise after the other by shimazakis

Yuri didn’t expect a quiet birthday, not when Victor Nikiforov was his boyfriend.

We’ll call this place our home by perennials

“What do you want for your birthday?”

Yuuri averts his gaze, cheeks rosy-red. “You, I guess? Forever?”

Forever. Forever.

Viktor buys a ring.

Or, The Big Day approaches, and Viktor seeks advice from various members of the Katsuki family.

Pieces Of Me Pieces Of You by Sandyclaws68

Birthday cake, sake, and one special present have Yuuri and Viktor crossing one more threshold in their relationship.

Savor the Taste by RennieOnIceCream (Hitsugi_Zirkus)

Everything was sinfully good sensation under Yuuri’s palms until he couldn’t quite tell if the silk he felt was the lingerie or Viktor’s own skin. It was surreal and beautiful and made Yuuri’s head spin all bubbly like champagne.

In which it’s Yuuri’s birthday and Viktor’s eager for him to unwrap his presents.

For Good Luck by StorySongs

Victor puts his own twist on a traditional Russian birthday tradition.

To be selfish by shiromantic

Yuuri is turning twenty four. He starts to think about his life up until this moment and how much he’s grown. Victor listens and tells him how important he really is.

On Pirozhki and Katsudon by Zelinxia

Summary:

Yuri knows what Agape is, but not what it means to him. As his motivator for the Onsen on Ice competition, Yuuko comes up with a solid idea that helps him find inspiration.

“What is your favorite comfort food?”

#yoi #yuri on ice #fic rec list #November 2016 Fic Recs

2 notes · View notes