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thehangeddemon · 3 years

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Waiting for a Tuesday || Self Para || September 14, 2021

☠ WARNING ☠

This work contains graphic descriptions of violence, gore, and torture

Reader discretion is advised

“More tea, sir?”

Xavier glanced up from his newspaper and gave the waiter a pleasant smile. He shook his head. “I’m fine, John, thank you. You can bring me the check as soon as y—”

“Actually, John. Why don’t you go ahead and bring us another pot of tea? Anything but English breakfast,” he added with a chuckle that almost sounded condescending. “I don’t share my son’s fondness for it.”

The waiter watched as a man, who had seemed to appear out of nowhere and was dressed head to toe in black, invited himself to sit opposite Mr. Rossmara. He’d said ‘son’, but he didn’t really look old enough to have a son Mr. Rossmara’s age. He didn’t really resemble him either but that seemed less strange somehow.

What was strange was the way Mr. Rossmara was looking at the man across from him. He looked…stunned, like he’d seen a ghost or something. But beneath the surprise was an indiscernible emotion on Mr. Rossmara’s face that John thought looked just a little like fear.

At the stranger’s expectant look, John collected himself and cleared his throat, addressing Mr. Rossmara. “…Sir…?”

Xavier seemed to collect himself as well, though far more subtly. He folded up his newspaper and put the pleasant smile back on his face, determined to make it seem like nothing was wrong. Only someone who looked very closely would see how forced the smile was, or how measured his movements were.

“Yes, of course. Does earl grey meet with your approval?”

The man smiled like the proverbial cat who ate the canary. “It does.”

“Very well. A pot of earl grey then, John.”

The waiter nodded. “Right away, sir.”

Xavier waited until John was well out of earshot before he spoke again. “Hello, Father. I didn’t expect you.”

Zagan let out another of those condescending laughs that set Xavier’s teeth on edge and dragged him right back to all his memories of Hell. “No, I’m quite certain you did not.”

“How did you know I was here?”

“My dear boy, it was hardly a mystery worthy of Sherlock Holmes. For as long as you’ve had your shipping business, you’ve come to San Francisco every Tuesday without fail to check in. And without fail, you finish your work just before teatime. By your own admission, this hotel has the best afternoon tea in the city. All I had to do was remember the name of the hotel and wait for a Tuesday.”

Zagan helped himself to one of the cucumber sandwiches that remained on the tray. “You’ve become predictable in your old age, my boy.”

Xavier had to fight to keep from shifting in his seat. Not any-bloody-more. He’d be changing that particular habit immediately. It didn’t suit him at all for someone outside his household to have such intimate knowledge of his movements, especially if that someone was his father. Such information was dangerous in the hands of a man like Zagan. It didn’t matter if it was only the day and location of a standing reservation for tea and cake, Xavier knew from experience that the less his father knew, the better.

Which was largely why he didn’t take any great pains to see him. Unless, of course, he was forced to.

“I see,” Xavier said, settling for an amused smile since a laugh was impossible. “I suppose I am becoming a bit predictable. Anyhow, it’s nice to see you, Father. Have you been well?”

“Well enough.” Zagan was watching him carefully, studying every nuance in his expression, listening to the tone and inflection of every word. Becoming familiar with anything that had changed since the last time he’d seen his demonic progeny.

Thankfully Xavier didn’t have to endure it for very long. John soon returned with their tea, giving him a reprieve from paternal scrutiny as it was poured. It was the only thing that would for the next little while.

This time it was Zagan who waited until they were alone again before he spoke. “So. Tell me. How is that shipping business of yours doing? And your myriad other ventures?”

The next hour or so was spent in what one could call easy conversation. They spoke of Xavier’s businesses, the sights he’d seen, the things he’d collected, the weather, the state of the world. Perfectly light, perfectly casual. At least from an outsider’s perspective.

From Xavier’s point of view things were far more fraught. Everything he said had to be carefully weighed, and there was a desperately thin line between revealing too much and appearing withholding, between looking at ease and projecting discomfort.

Having a conversation with his father hadn’t always been this difficult. In fact, just a few years ago Xavier would have been—and had been—completely comfortable not only talking to Zagan but spending entire days in his company. He’d even sought him out once or twice. But then, Xavier had had far less to lose a few years ago. He hadn’t had a child, a fiancé, staff that depended on him, friends he cared for.

He had all those things now. He had more than he’d allowed himself to have in fifty years, and the memory of how things had gone then still lived all too vividly in his mind.

Getting back to a point of comfort with Zagan after that hadn’t been easy, but he’d done it. There hadn’t been a choice. It was either swallow his pain, grief, and desire for vengeance and make nice, or tempt his father into carrying out his threats.

Sitting here now, Xavier felt much the same as he had then; trapped, resentful, and desperate to get away.

He had no illusions of being able to do that any time soon, however, even when his father finally asked for the check. After such a long absence, Zagan was sure to take up as much of his time as possible.

His suspicions were confirmed almost immediately.

“Come,” said Zagan, getting to his feet. “Let’s take a walk.”

Xavier remained at the table while his father stepped outside, indulging himself with a long, weary sigh the moment it felt safe to do so. It had only been an hour and he was ready for another five-year interlude in their relationship.

What had brought Zagan up from Hell anyway? Surely this visit hadn’t only been for tea and a walk with him. His father hated humans, hated looking at them and being amongst them. There had to be another reason and no doubt it was something Xavier really didn’t want the know the details of.

“Probably scouting his next project child,” Xavier muttered to himself as he pulled his card from his wallet.

Bill settled, he stepped out into the late summer evening and breathed deeply. There was a chill in the air that said autumn was well and truly on its way. Soon the days would grow shorter and the nights longer. His collection of coats would emerge from storage. Every hearth in the manor would roar to life with cheerful, welcoming fires.

He sighed again, longing for the comfort of home as he looked for Zagan among the crowd of people in front of the hotel. That expression of disdain was easy to spot.

“Where shall we go?” Xavier asked, approaching him.

“I don’t know how you can stand it.” His father’s tone all but dripped disgust. “Being here day in and day out among these…creatures and the stench of their cities. It’s revolting.”

“I’d rather smog than brimstone.”

“I think I prefer brimstone.”

Right. That nipped the notion of walking on the street squarely in the bud. If only that were enough to dissuade his father, but alas.

Fortunately, there was a park nearby.

Zagan didn’t say a single word as they made their way there, clearly preferring to stew in his distaste until they were well clear of anyone who might catch a snippet of their conversation. Of course, he hadn’t been nearly so averse to it back at the hotel.

Xavier would just chalk that up to the difference between a well-appointed dining room and a crowded street.

His father’s demeanor seemed marginally more pleasant as they entered the park. It wouldn’t be empty for a good while yet, but it was an improvement from the street. Hopefully it wouldn’t be enough of one to tempt him to stay much longer.

A few long minutes of not-quite-companionable silence passed before Zagan saw fit to fall into conversation again. The additional privacy meant they could discuss things that were far more relevant to his father’s interests than the weather or the goings on at a shipping company. Namely, any magic Xavier had learned, magical artifacts Xavier had acquired, and any kills Xavier had made.

The latter would perhaps prove to be a bit of a disappointment. Not only did Xavier kill less frequently these days, his choice of quarry had changed. The people that he’d once hunted were those he found interesting or amusing or intriguingly intelligent; only on the very rare occasion did he hunt someone who truly deserved it.

That was no longer the case. Lately when Xavier hunted it was only people who truly deserved it. He went for rapists and abusers. He went for people who hurt children, including and especially priests. There was immense satisfaction in knowing exactly where those people were going and what awaited them when they arrived, and even more in describing it in vivid, excruciating detail as they bled to death among the debris of a forest floor.

Hell was a far greater torment than anything he could visit upon them, and he was more than happy to send them on their way.

Zagan let out a loud, derisive laugh at that. “Are you indeed?” The old demon laughed again, putting Xavier’s back up and setting his teeth on edge. “My dear boy, you have been away from Hell too long. Who would’ve imagined? My son, the divine hand of justice for ne’er-do-well priests the world over. Never mind predictable; you’ve grown positively moral in your old age.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Xavier said softly, fighting to unclench his jaw.

His father gave him an amused look. “No?”

He shook his head. “No. I’ve merely…unearthed an intolerance I didn’t give sufficient regard to before.”

“Have you? Well.” Zagan chuckled and adjusted his sleeve, looking positively chuffed in a way that both infuriated and unsettled. “You never did like priests. Who would, having had your childhood? I suppose that particular aspect of your personality was bound to rear its head again eventually. Perhaps…it’s entirely appropriate that it should do so now.”

Xavier didn’t register the movement until it was too late. He only had a moment to feel his father grabbing his arm before he was whisked through the familiar vacuum of demonic travel, and even less to register his new surroundings before he was thrown bodily against something cold and unyielding.

“You unearthed an intolerance, did you?” Zagan’s voice, so casual and amused just seconds ago, now quivered with rage.

Xavier went flying again, this time into something that splintered beneath the force of his weight. Wood?

“And when exactly did you do that, Xavier? Was it perhaps around the time that you became a father?”

Again, back into the unyielding cold. Stone. “Father, plea—”

“Not that I can even tell, since I’ve scarcely seen the child—my grandchild—more than twice since the day he was born!”

Xavier cried out as he was flung for a fourth time, several bones breaking upon landing forcefully on a stone floor. There was something soft beneath him, but whatever it was, it hadn’t been enough to cushion his fall.

He braced for another hit, relieved when none came. He could still hear the echo of his father’s furious footsteps, however, which meant the torment wasn’t over. Far from it. The pleasant Zagan of earlier was gone, and who had remained in his place was someone Xavier was very, very familiar with.

Familiar enough to know that he had only a few precious seconds to catch his breath and orient himself.

There wasn’t much he could see from this position apart from the ceiling of whatever edifice they were in but, not wanting to draw attention to himself too soon—or move lest he worsen his breaks—he observed what he could by turning his head.

Said ceiling, high and crisscrossed with thick wooden beams, appeared to be constructed of the same stone as the walls and floor. Dusty chandeliers covered in thick cobwebs were hung every few feet, the candles in them long unlit. The same went for the metal sconces on the walls.

He appeared to be lying in the middle of an aisle bordered on either side by what he could only assume was the wooden something he’d been thrown int—

No. Not just wood. Pews.

Xavier struggled into a sitting position, heedless of his broken bones and desire for inconspicuousness in his rush to confirm his suspicions, to confirm what he already knew.

Panic rose in his chest as he saw the cross silhouetted in stark relief against the waning sunlight streaming in through the stained-glass window.

They were in a church.

Had this been any other time on any other day Zagan wouldn’t have missed the opportunity to mock and use his son’s fear against him. Xavier’s childhood memories of being harrowed and abused by his stepmother and local priest amused him to no end but on this day, he didn’t so much as comment.

He just stalked down the aisle toward Xavier and slammed him back against the floor with a flick of his hand.

“After all,” he said, voice dangerously soft as he crouched beside his son. “I can hardly drop by for a visit now, can I? Not with all those wards you have on the estate that threaten to annihilate anyone who comes in unannounced.” He almost smiled. “You’ve amassed quite the bag of tricks over the last fifty years.”

Xavier could only shake his head. “The wards aren’t—”

“Aren’t what? Aren’t meant to keep me out?” Zagan scoffed, giving Xavier a dubious look as he grabbed a handful of his hair from the back of his head and stood. “Dear boy, do you really expect me to believe that?”

He gave Xavier’s hair a good hard yank, ignoring his son’s cries of pain as he dragged him down the aisle and deposited him on the small set of stairs leading to the altar. “You didn’t ward against me fifty years ago only because you didn’t know how to. If you had, you would’ve done it in a trice to help keep that pathetic little slave of yours out of my grasp, but I’m sure that’s already occurred to you.”

Indignation fought its way in beside pain and panic, and Zagan noticed. His son’s emotions had always been pitifully easy to read, moreso when they ran as profoundly as he knew this did. The servant was still a sore spot even after all this time.

Zagan paused.

“Had you realized?” he asked, crouching again to run a single finger down Xavier’s cheek, those ancient eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. “That this year marks the fiftieth anniversary? Had you realized, my beautiful boy, that half a century had passed since you came so close to defying me?”

Fifty years of pain and rage and grief so rarely expressed churned in Xavier’s gut and pulled at his soul. That his father could speak so cavalierly of Maximus and his loss made him want to scream and be ill in equal measure.

Had he realized? How could he not, when every day for the past year and a half had been a battle against remembering? How could he not, when every day he walked halls and sat in rooms identical to those Maximus had once drawn breath in, only to remember that they had burnt to the ground?

How could he not, when dead leaves and rose petals and ash were still enough to bring him to tears?

The same tears that streamed down his face now. Xavier was powerless to stop them and even if he could have, he likely wouldn’t have. After what he’d done to Maximus, an acknowledgement of his grief was the least Xavier could give him, even if his father was the only one who witnessed it.

“Oh my, look at that.” Zagan stroked his son’s face again, collecting those tears and rubbing the moisture between his fingers. He tsked, shaking his head. “My dear, it’s been an absolute age since then. How can a measly little servant still cause all this upset, hm? There now.”

Zagan slipped one arm under Xavier’s knees and the other behind his back, lifting and carrying him the rest of the way up the steps as if he weighed absolutely nothing. He gathered Xavier close, even took care not to jostle him too much.

Such loving gestures were not uncommon for the old demon. There were times in Hell when he had been the absolute image of gentleness and paternal affection, when he had held him as he did now and given him a reprieve from the torture.

But more torture had always followed. Showing him affection was rarely meant to comfort; it was meant to torment.

“I’m sure you feel like the past few decades have been a trial, but you see, I don’t think that’s entirely accurate.” Zagan set Xavier down as carefully as he’d picked him up, petting his hair as that indignant look returned to his son’s expression. “Don’t misunderstand me. I don’t doubt you’ve suffered a great deal over your servant. I don’t see why you would when they’re so readily available, but I don’t doubt it. I just think you haven’t quite…put things in perspective.”

With of wave of his father’s hand, every sconce, chandelier, and candelabra flickered to life, allowing Xavier his first real look at the derelict church. Not that there was much to see. No one had set foot in here for a very long time, let alone used it as a place of worship.

But when he turned his head, Xavier saw something that made his blood run cold.

Until now he’d felt trepidation, resentment, emotional anguish. Only when he saw the lines of a demon trap scorched into the threadbare carpet beneath him did he finally feel fear.

“Father…?”

“You see, my dear, I don’t think you realize how easy you got off all those years ago.” Zagan shed his coat and rolled up his sleeves.

“Father, please—”

Zagan knelt beside him. “My own son considers rebelling against me, disobeying me, gives a servant pride of place over his father, and what does he have to pay for it? Absolutely nothing.” He unbuttoned Xavier’s suit jacket and shirt, undid his trousers. “My son defies his father and still he gets to keep his estate, his businesses, his treasures. His life. All these things my son gets to keep, he goes virtually without punishment for fifty years, and does he realize that? Does it occur to him how generous his father has been in his infinite mercy? No. Rather than show gratitude, he has the childish audacity to believe he is the aggrieved party!”

Xavier didn’t see Zagan move. There was just an awful squelching sound, then searing pain as his father, having pierced his torso with a bare hand, sliced it upward and gutted him like a fish from groin to sternum.

“Which doesn’t mean I haven’t noticed your efforts,” Zagan said calmly above the echoing din of his son’s screams. Casually. “You’ve been such a good boy, treating your papa to afternoon tea and accompanying him for a walk. But I have been far too lax with you. You see that, don’t you?”

He gripped the jagged edges of Xavier’s wound and forced them apart to another chorus of screams. “All those wards, the prolonged absence.” Zagan shook his head. “There comes a point where it all gets to be a bit too much. What’s that expression? Getting too big for your britches? I think you’ll agree you got too big for yours a very long time ago. What’s more, I think you’ll agree that it’s high time that you paid the piper.”

Zagan got to his feet and made his way over to the wooden table beneath the stained-glass window at the head of the altar. He retrieved a hammer, a covered metal bowl, and a set of railroad spikes and brought them over to the demon trap, kneeling again.

Xavier could only watch him, borderline delirious as his chest heaved and his wounds bled. He didn’t dare lift his head to look at the damage; he’d seen enough of his own insides in Hell.

There was a vague hope that his blood would break the demon trap and allow him to get away, but he knew it was impossible even as he thought it. Zagan had prepared for this.

There was no getting away, especially once the first spike was hammered through one of his feet, piercing shoe leather, flesh, and carpet as it was driven into the stone beneath. Xavier bit back another scream, only to give in as his father pinned his arm above his head and drove the second spike into his hand.

“A necessary precaution,” Zagan explained, moving around to repeat the process on Xavier’s other side, barely reacting to the scent of demonic flesh charred by iron. “To make things easier for both of us. Remember what I always used to tell you?”

The third and fourth spikes were driven into Xavier’s free hand and foot, rendering him not quite immobile, but significantly limiting his range of motion. He was left completely vulnerable to Zagan.

“Well?”

He turned toward his father. The demon was looking at him expectantly, warmly—a complete contrast to that cold smile on his face that never quite reached his eyes.

“The more you struggle,” Xavier began, breathing raggedly, “the more it will hurt.”

“That’s exactly right. Good boy.” Zagan bent to kiss his brow and set the hammer aside. “Now be a love and stay still for your papa while he works.”

“What are you going to do?” Asked in a voice too soft and timid to belong to a demon.

“I thought you might ask. You see, I needed to come up with an appropriate punishment.” Zagan reached into his abdominal cavity and tore out a chunk of his liver, placing it on the carpet beside him while his son howled in agony. The shock and blood loss weren’t enough to kill him, of course, but there would be a great deal of both before Zagan was done.

“It had to fit the crime, else how could the lesson be truly felt?” His stomach joined his liver, spilling its bloody contents as it hit the floor with a sickening plop.

Xavier hadn’t felt pain like this since Hell. He wondered for a moment if he was in Hell. That endless red sky and the ceiling of the church blurred together in his mind while the stone under his back became the rocky banks of that boiling river of blood. He heard a scream—or perhaps a thousand—but no longer registered it as his own.

When his father spoke, he heard it as only an echo.

“I mentioned taking your estate and your belongings but upon reflection, that wouldn’t be a practical solution to the problem. You could always acquire more, and really, what do I want with a bunch of wine and trinkets and land?” The other half of his liver followed, then his spleen and pancreas, all added to the growing pile of viscera.

Zagan turned to Xavier, whose screams had quieted to pained whimpers as he began coughing up torrents of blood. “No matter how you look at it, it would only be an inconvenience to us both. An inconvenience, not a punishment. That was when I realized that there was something I could take from you that would serve as an appropriate punishment.”

The old demon reached into Xavier’s body with both hands this time, ripping through sheet after sheet of connective tissue as he worked to tear out Xavier’s intestines. Messy work but very necessary, although he did find himself wishing he’d brought a blade to speed up the process. But that’s what happened when one was forced to move with haste; things were bound to be forgotten.

To Xavier, that process seemed to take hours. Perhaps it did. He couldn’t help but think it would’ve been kinder to just kill him.

His only comfort was that the shock setting in made his body go almost numb, a small mercy for which he gave profound thanks. It was liable to be the only one he got. He only wished he could go deaf as well, or better yet, fall into blessed unconsciousness so he wouldn’t have to listen to or feel the rending of his flesh.

More hopes he knew would be dashed.

Such was Zagan’s concentration on his task that he fell silent. Humans did have such a lot of parts, but he had gotten most of it. It would do.

He gathered the slippery mass in his hands, considering adding them to the pile before deciding to simply drop them on his son’s lap. They didn’t need to be removed entirely, just moved out of the way.

“Right,” he sighed, looking around at his handiwork while he gathered his thoughts. “Where was I? Ah, yes. Your punishment.”

Zagan scooted a bit closer and tenderly took Xavier’s face in his hands, smiling beatifically as he stroked his son’s cheeks and smeared that handsome face with blood. “I believe you’ve lived in poor dead Christian for quite long enough, my precious one. Don’t you?”

For the second time since this ordeal began, panic took hold of Xavier. Not just a trickle of it, but huge, violent waves that made his adrenaline surge and had him struggling against his restraints despite the burning pain of the iron.

Please, God, let him not have heard correctly. Surely it was the delirium, the blood loss making him think his father had said what Xavier thought he’d just said. Or if had said it, perhaps Xavier just didn’t understand his meaning. It could mean anything, everything. Too much. Was it to be his life, a return to Hell? Was it—

“Settle down, Xavier,” Zagan chided, placing his hands on his son’s shoulders. “What did we say, hm? The more you struggle the more it will hurt, and this is going to hurt quite enough without you thrashing about like a landed fish. Settle.”

“Wh-what is?” Xavier’s voice was a raspy, choked sound, devoid of its usual elegance. For all that he struggled—or tried to, before pain and fatigue forced him to stillness—it was a battle to get out every single word. “Fath…father. What are y-you going…?”

“What am I going to do?”

At his son’s jerky nod, Zagan smiled and stroked his face again. “Just what I said. You’ve been living in Christian Deidrich’s body for far too long and it’s time for a change.”

“But w-what—”

“I’m going to take you out of Christian, Xavier. You will be removed from this vessel and placed into a new one.”

Xavier looked at this father in abject horror for a few silent, eternal moments before panic and adrenaline flooded back in with a vengeance.

He began to struggle to free himself in earnest as his father’s words and their full implications sank in. Whatever he’d suffered so far—gut-wrenching reminders of the past, the sear of iron, the removal of his organs—it would be nothing compared to what he knew awaited him now.

At this very moment, even the full weight of what it meant to lose Christian as his vessel couldn’t hold a candle to Xavier’s fear.

This reaction pleased Zagan immensely, and unlike before, he was perfectly happy to let Xavier wear himself out. In this weakened state it was all he’d manage to do, which would only make things easier once the real work began.

Besides, even if by some chance Xavier did tear the wounds around the spikes and freed himself, he was still inside the trap. He wasn’t going anywhere.

Zagan hummed to himself, giving his son’s cheek one last pat before getting to his feet.

One by one, he brought candelabras over to the altar. Not many remained after so many years of the church having been abandoned, but they were enough to give him the light he needed. The larger ones were placed around the perimeter of the trap and the smallest just inside. A single candlestick was placed beside Xavier.

Had he been able to, Xavier would’ve knocked that stupid candle over and set fire to the rug. Something his father probably would’ve considered if he wasn’t so obviously confident that it wouldn’t happen.

Xavier couldn’t deny that he was right to be. Already he was exhausted to the point of giving up. Physically, at least.

“Father…” he wheezed. “Plea…please…don’t—don’t do this to me…”

“Ahhh, I see we’ve moved from anger to bargaining,” Zagan chuckled, returning to his son’s side. “I understand, of course. A new face will be an adjustment after so many decades spent looking at the same reflection in the mirror, but don’t worry, my dear one. You’ll get used it.”

Xavier shook his head, swallowing back more tears. He didn’t want to get used to it. He wanted to remain in his body. No matter how mangled it was, it was his, and leaving it would mean suffering beyond measure in more ways than one.

“The spell…”

His father nodded patiently. “Yes, yes, I know. You locked yourself in. An excellent notion, truly. After all, one can never know who does and does not know an exorcism rite. No doubt it would have spoiled your fun if in the middle of a hunt, your quarry dispatched you back to Hell.”

Zagan stroked his hair again. “Pity that your good judgement should have to hurt you now.”

Tears began to flow freely again as Xavier tugged at his restraints with all the might he had left. It was precious little. “Fat-ther, please…please d-don’t…please…”

“Hush now. Begging won’t save you, Xavier.” Zagan picked up the bowl that until now had sat untouched beside the revolting mess of entrails. “As I’m sure you’ve gathered from the very fact that you’re able to be here, the church we are currently in is no longer consecrated ground. Faith left this place…” he shrugged, “a century ago, perhaps more. But despite that, there is one thing I’m so terribly curious to know.”

He removed the lid. “I wonder…despite the decades of absent devotion…if this water is still holy enough to hurt you.”

“N-nononono wait, don’t—!”

An awful steaming hiss drowned out his protests as Zagan slowly began pouring the bowl’s contents into Xavier’s abdominal cavity.

“You’re making it worse,” he said, raising his voice to make himself heard over the cacophony of tortured screams and howls of demonic pain.

His admonishment fell on deaf ears. The moment the first drop of holy water had touched his mutilated insides, Xavier had begun thrashing about in a desperate, mindless effort to escape from the torment.

Exhaustion had no hope of stilling his movements, even if those movements caused the water to splash and slosh about and cause even more pain. This was beyond the physical, beyond the human. Short of an exorcism this was the greatest suffering that could be inflicted on a demon, and Xavier had the great misfortune of knowing that was precisely what awaited him next.

He screamed, he sobbed, he begged his father to stop. At some point he even succeeded in tearing free of two of the spikes. But still the ordeal continued and would until the bowl was empty.

It would continue even when the bowl was empty, because for all that Xavier had moved about, a good deal of holy water remained on and inside of him. As long as it did, nothing would stop the screaming.

“Shhhh, darling, shhhh,” Zagan cooed at his son, pulling out the spikes that still restrained Xavier’s limbs so he could turn him on his side and empty out the water. It had completed its intended purpose and was thus no longer required.

He eased Xavier onto his back again and picked up the candlestick. “Right. I would very much like to say that’s the worst of it over, but we both know that’s not the case. Tell me, should I bother asking where you carved it?”

Although agonized groans and broken sobs had replaced blood-curdling screams, Xavier wasn’t in any condition to listen to his father, much less respond.

“I thought not. No matter. I have a fair idea which rite you used, and I believe that particular one calls for the inscription to be placed on the spine.”

At last, the true reason for the evisceration revealed.

Zagan brought the candle close to the gaping void that was Xavier’s torso, using its light to find exactly where the spell had been carved into the bone—a slightly easier task now that the holy water had rinsed out most of the blood.

“Ah, there it is.” Zagan tried to make out the symbols to confirm his suspicions. “What did I tell you?” he chuckled, setting aside the candlestick. “Predictable.”

Xavier had been left even weaker than before. His chest barely rose. His skin, already pale from loss of blood, looked gray and lifeless. There wasn’t a part of him that wasn’t burning in agony. The dread and fear and grief he should have felt eighty-six years ago when the hangman’s noose had been placed around his neck fell upon him now, far more heavily than they would have then.

Still, he had to try just one more time.

With what little strength he had left, Xavier turned to his father. “Please,” he begged, the barely audible whisper ragged and frail. “Father. Please…please don-n’t. You don’t—don’t kn-now…” he gasped for breath, “…what you—you’re take…tak-king…”

There was a beat of silence during which Xavier thought, just for a second, his father looked apologetic.

“But I do,” Zagan murmured, taking Xavier’s bloody, tear-stained face in his hands. He stayed like that for several moments, studying his child’s features one last time. He loved this face. It gave him no pleasure to destroy it. “I know exactly what I’m taking. My beautiful, beautiful boy.”

He bent to place a tender kiss on Xavier’s forehead. “Don’t fret. The pain won’t last. You’ll still be beautiful, I promise. I could never take that from you. You’ll even look like your brother.” He kissed Xavier’s forehead again, his brow, his cheeks, allowing them both the indulgence of true affection for just a moment.

Perhaps it would offer some comfort in the days to come.

Sighing, Zagan took the candlestick again and made another examination of the spell his son had used to lock himself in. It was simple, but perfectly effective against exorcisms and other such attempts to dislodge a demon from their vessel.

The symbols themselves were spread across four vertebrae and, upon closer inspection, appeared to be burned into the bone rather than inscribed. He had no doubt the process had been rather painful; things like this always were.

He reached in and carefully tore the first vertebra from Xavier’s spine, ensuring he removed only bone and nothing else.

Painful, yes, but not as painful as its reversal. Not in his hands.

Zagan recited a small incantation under his breath, brushing his thumb back and forth over the symbols as if merely rubbing away a bit of dust. With every swipe the symbols grew fainter and fainter until they disappeared altogether, leaving behind nothing but clean, unmarred bone.

He held it up to the candlelight and examined it again. Pleased, he tossed it away and pulled out the next one.

Xavier, no longer strong enough to scream, could only groan and sob as his father ripped yet more parts out of his body, overwhelmed by fear and pain.

But there was another sensation as well; an odd, supernatural pull somewhere deep inside his being. It seemed to exist independently of the pain, and had nothing to do with what was happening to him physically.

It did, however, have everything to do with what was happening to him magically. This body, having been technically dead for so many decades, was dying again. In all reality it had already died again, and as his father methodically did away with his lock, Xavier’s hold inside his vessel began to loosen.

By the time the last vertebra was torn from his spine and the symbols on it erased, that hold was all but nonexistent.

“There we are,” said Zagan, sighing again as he smiled to himself. “Now the real work begins.”

Even if he’d been inclined to bother with an exorcism, it was no longer necessary. Given enough time Xavier would be forced to leave Christian’s body on his own, but Zagan wasn’t inclined to wait.

Instead, he reached into his son’s abdominal cavity one last time, thrusting through dead flesh and fractured bone and into the very core of him, physical and metaphysical, feeling around until his hand closed around what he sought.

Making sure to maintain an iron grip on his prize, Zagan ripped Xavier free from what remained of his moorings. When Zagan’s hand emerged, bloody and singed, it held a cloud of oily black smoke that crackled with electricity.

There were no anguished screams to mark this final parting, no sobs or desperate pleas to echo off the stone.

There was only the burnt out, mutilated husk of a body, the scent of sulfur, and a cloud of oily black smoke.

Zagan smiled at the smoke and released it, leaving it free but still stuck inside the demon trap, before pushing the husk out of the way to give himself more room to work.

What came next would require every last ounce of his will and concentration. This was magic he did not inherently possess, and if he could not see his vision clearly, if he could not believe in it wholly, it would not bear fruit.

He closed his eyes, steeling his will as he began to draw every bit of energy in the room outside his own toward him, no matter how small. The remnants of Xavier’s emotion, the electricity of a demon in true form, the lifeforce of the plants surrounding the church—all were taken and absorbed.

Even the candles were drawn in, extinguishing themselves one by one as Zagan pulled their heat and energy close, inserting his will and chanting ancient magic to manipulate the mass of energy to his whim.

And there, in the middle of the demon trap, it slowly began to take form. A single point of light that pulsed and grew as yet more light surrounded and encased it, becoming a womb for an old demon’s creation.

With every pulse, the air shimmered as it regained its charge, making Zagan’s skin prickle and burn to the point of pain. But still he did not buckle, digging even deeper and giving even more of himself as he watched the light become something at once both liquid and solid, something that elongated and molded itself until it resembled a human body.

Almost done.

He looked up at where the cloud of smoke hovered above his head. It would be cleaner to do it in one fell swoop. Faster. Even for a being as old as he was, keeping this level of concentration took its toll. Mere seconds could be the difference between success and miserable failure.

The new vessel was almost complete; the moment it was, he would draw Xavier into it and seal him inside. He had to move quickly, but gingerly, with the precision of a surgeon.

Zagan took a deep breath. Clenching one hand as tightly as he could to hold his creation in place, he used the other to draw his child down and guide him into his new vessel.

A different kind of light began emanating from the body as it was slowly given life. Zagan grit his teeth against the strain as it grew in strength, as he was pushed to the very edge of his limits by the effort of controlling so much raw energy.

No sooner had the last wisp of black smoke disappeared from view than the light burned out with enough force to shatter every window in the crumbling church.

Zagan fell back, utterly exhausted but brimming with triumphant hubris as he gazed upon his creation. His vision, made flesh.

It was perfect.

Zagan spent a few moments catching his breath and recuperating some of his strength, after which he got to his feet to gather himself. He adjusted his sleeves and went to retrieve his coat, brushing off bits of colored glass before slipping it back on. He placed the bowl and the candlestick back on their table, took a piece of glass and sliced through the carpet, breaking the demon trap.

And when he finally approached the unconscious, supine body that now belonged to Xavier, and watched as he drew his first breath, Zagan bent to place a kiss on his forehead.

“Perhaps now you’ll learn,” he whispered. “My beautiful boy.”

A rustle of wings, and Xavier was left alone in the darkness.

#Waiting for a Tuesday self para

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milstrim · 3 years

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Strong Words of Encourage-Mint!

"Okay, you win," Tony conceded, pointing an accusing finger at the kid walking next to him, "This is the best sandwich I've ever had. But don't let it go to your head."

Penny took a bite of her own sandwich, polishing it off and throwing the wrapper at the nearest trash can where it landed perfectly in the hole. She flashed him a cheeky grin, "Never. Nothing goes to my head. Ever."

"Uhuh."

Tony took another bite, pushing his glasses farther up his nose. Today, they served more than the purpose of carrying around his own personal badass AI, but actually blocked the bright New York summer sun that bounced and glared off the windows of buildings and nearby cars. Heat passed through the crowd like a dusty wind, hanging onto him and letting go just as quickly as a new wave took its place. He licked his lips at the heat, hoping that whatever Penny's trip through the city had planned was prepared for a water break.

"So, where to, kid?" he asked, throwing his own wrapper in a trashcan, though he begrudgingly admitted that it was much less cool than the kid's shot, "'Cause I don't know if it can surpass the best sandwich in Queens."

"It's gonna be great, Mr. Stark!" Penny chirped, ignoring his comment and bouncing forward a little. He smiled. "There's this really cool tunnel thing that turns into an arcade. It just opened last week and the graphics are so good, it's like it's actually real! They also have an escape room if we wanted to do that too. It's supposed to be the hardest one ever, no one's cracked it yet!" Tony smirked. Between the two of them, it'd be done in ten minutes tops, "Oh! And there's this cool, like--it's like a superhero store? They have a bunch of really cool Avengers merch and there's this life size Captain America plushie that's like three hundred dollars and it has the funniest sayings ever. You've got to see it!!!"

"Sounds like a full day," Tony commented, wondering when life had ever become this carefree. He was spending the day discussing afternoon plans with his intern, just for fun... No, not his intern. More like his kid. He couldn't help himself as he gave the girl a fond look. It'd been two years since they'd met, she was almost eighteen, and she changed so much, yet her bouncy childish joy still hung in a bubble beside her. Tony took a breath, surprised to find his breath taken away with the thought of how much she'd grown, "So, where to first?"

"Where do you wanna go first?"

"Nope. Your day."

She bumped into him playfully, sticking her tongue out at him. He blew a raspberry in her direction, dragging a delighted, crinkling giggle out of her.

"The arcade is closest," she said.

"Cool, let's go do that first. Which way?"

"Um, it's a couple blocks over," she started, stopping, much to the chagrin of the bustling crowd. She stepped away from the stream of traffic. Tony followed, "We can take some shortcuts, though."

"Y'know, you're pretty impatient," he teased.

"No! I'm just showing you my amazing street cred of knowing the streets."

"Okay, Underoos. Lead the way."

She shot him a look, but still led him through the alley. And then another, and then another. The first two were completely fine. No surprises, no boogy man jumping out of them. Nothing other than the toxic smell of a dumpster. By the third one, everything went downhill.

Now, Tony didn't have a 'spidey sense' or whatever she and her friend called it, but the moment he stepped on the street, the feeling of wrong overtook him. Maybe it was instinct, or maybe it was the way Penny had slowed down, her body language reeking of fear. Almost against his will, he took a step further, reaching out for Penny in an attempt to pull her back.

He'd barely reached her by the time something clattered at their feet. It was small and round, barely bigger than a bouncy ball, a sickly gray color shining dully in the darkened alleyway. Before any movements could be made, it stretched, revealing a clear vial.

Smoke began dispensing from the ball, billowing in thick clouds. Extremely thick for how small the thing was. Tony's breath shortened immediately, and before he clamped his mouth shut, stuffing it into the crook of his arm, he shouted to Penny, "Don't breathe, kid, just run!!"

Surprisingly unaffected, he moved forward, gripping Penny's hand as he did, but he was stopped short, almost falling with his cut short momentum. He whipped around to stare at Penny, his eyes widening with horror.

She was rooted in place, her eyes dreamy and droopy, as if she was nothing more than a vacant shell. She swayed. Her legs shook. She fell.

The man rushed forward, barely managing to catch her, and feeling like someone would have to catch him soon as well. His vision swayed dizzily from the lack of air, and Tony couldn't stop himself from taking a breath in at the sudden movement. He expected something bitter or tasteless, and for him to faint immediately if it had already taken Penny out so quickly, but instead, he was fine. Nothing happened save for the burning of peppermint on his throat and burning his nose.

Peppermint.

He cursed. Penny was dangerously allergic to peppermint, a fun little gift from her spider powers. Whoever had done this hadn't come for him. They wanted Penny, and they knew just how to do it.

With that horrifying thought, Tony ran. Or, well, he tried to run.

Scooping up Penny, he began to stumble out of the alleyway, only to be met with a wall of people. There were three of them, all with guns in hand. Waiting. He turned on his heel, only to discover the other end was surrounded with three men as well, as dangerous and formidable looking as before. He spotted a red octopus on their jackets.

He hugged Penny tighter, and held out a gauntlet covered hand. His glasses lit up, Friday already calling a suit.

A man took a step closer, his gun held aloft. Tony took a step backward, his eyes dancing around and looking for an escape. Penny couldn't stay in this cloud of peppermint for long. As if hearing his thoughts, a rack of coughs shot through Penny, who buried her shaking form into his shoulder. He had to get her out.

"Hand over the girl," demanded the closest man. The group closed in, but remained wary of the weapon gripped onto his palm.

"Not happening," he snapped, "I think you know what happens to people that mess with me. So why don't you just go ahead and keep moving?"

"You know it's already too late for that."

"I don't think it's ever too late for anything."

"I do," the man responded, and that was all he had to say.

The men rushed forward all at once, a tidal wave. Tony fired immediately, but was only able to fire out one shot before they were on top of him. He kicked out violently, but was horribly unbalanced by the girl he held in his arms, limp and unaware of the world.

A punch landed to his face, knocking him backwards and the glasses off of his face. Assumingly distracted, he felt arms grip around his kid, tugging painfully at her, but he managed to cling on. In his desperate attempt to keep the kid with him, however, he found himself defenseless.

Another fist. Another kick. Tony felt his nose snap and his arms bruise beyond belief as he was rammed against the dumpster, arms worming between his, digging and tugging and tearing. But Tony refused to let go, unable to do anything else. All he could do was shield Penny from being hurt and taken.

But all he could do wasn't enough. Tony's legs wobbled, his body shook, and Penny was torn away. He reached out immediately, struggling to force himself up only to be met with the butt of the gun against his face. He went down like a rock, his head tearing against the concrete painfully.

Tony Stark had never been one to give up though, and this was a moment he was determined to not let pass by. Even if it killed him.

The sound of a car screeching to a halt is what managed to stir him to his feet, throwing away the dizziness that faced him and instead running towards the group of kidnappers. No longer encumbered with a child in his hands, he held out his wrist gauntlet. The first two missed, but the last hit the man holding Penny. He dropped to the ground just outside a gray van, Penny tumbling with him.

Another took his place, hooking arms underneath the limp girl and attempting to herd her back into the van, but he rushed forward. Anger burned in his eyes and leapt from his palm. Now close enough, he hit the man picking up Penny, forcing him to stumble back, and knocking him down with a swift shot.

Tony couldn't stop to make sure Penny was okay, instead swerving back to face the rest of the group, who were sprinting forward and redrawing their guns. The first slammed up to him, clicking his gun and ready to fire. Tony grabbed his wrist as he approached, clumsily twisting and placing his armored hand over the barrel, only just able to stop the metal that bounced against his hand painfully.

He took in a wispy breath, adrenaline pumping. He threw the man into the next one, forcing them to tumble to the ground, not that it would keep them down for long. He turned to the next one, firing two quick excessive shots that blasted the gun out of his hand and sent it clattering on the pavement. Tony punched him, his metal hand swiftly knocking him out.

Three down. Three to go.

The two he'd shoved to the ground earlier had stumbled back up, and now all three surrounded him, guns drawn and pointed at him. Tony pointed his gauntlet, gasping for air and refusing to move from where he stood over his kid protectively.

"Give it up, Stark," the tallest man demanded, a trickle of blood running from a cut over his eyes. Tony glanced around harriedly, desperately searching for an escape, for something to use. The sound of whooshing let him know he didn't have to.

"I've never been known for that," he snarked back, ducking and swerving for Penny just as the suit clanked down in front of him. Tony didn't even have to watch the fight, though he would've preferred to see the way their faces widened and whitened with fear, instead kneeling beside his kid.

No longer in direct contact with the peppermint bomb, the swelling had receded, and, when he placed two fingers to her neck, he was relieved to discover her heart was beating normally. Her breaths were a little shallow, but she'd live.

Penny blinked awake, her eyelashes fluttering open. For a moment, she looked lost, unfocused and unseeing, before they shifted and locked onto him. Immediately, a look of trust washed over her, and it made Tony equally terrified and fond. He'd barely saved her, yet she still held out a hand and gripped his fingers as though he would protect her forever.

He would try.

"Are you o'ay?" Penny mumbled, her words heavy as she began to regain control of her body. Tony wanted to scoff, but he was sure he looked like a bruised and horrid mess. His eye was bruising, his nose tender and broken, and trickles of blood escaping from given cuts.

"I'm great, kiddo," he responded instead, "But I think our little playdate is over, so why don't we go home?"

"I wanted you to see the Captain America doll."

"We'll go another time," he assured.

"Really?"

"Really."

#female peter parker #tony stark #peter parker #spiderman #Iron Man #irondad #spiderson #irondad and spiderson #kidnap tw #febuwhump 2021

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afni-fics · 3 years

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Elder Scrolls DC - A Reluctant Dragonborn - Chapter 8: The Bandit Tower

Elder Scrolls DC - A Reluctant Dragonborn - Chapter 8: The Bandit Tower by C_R_Scott Chapters: 8/? Fandom: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim, Red Robin (Comics), DCU (Comics) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Characters: Tim Drake, Lucien Flavius Additional Tags: Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Skyrim/DCU crossover, Reluctant Dovahkiin | Dragonborn, Not Beta Read Summary:

In the pre-dawn hours, Tim and Lucien begin their journey to Bleak Falls Barrows. Along the way, they come upon an old abandoned watchtower...

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

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About an hour before sunrise. Tim left Gerdur's home without waking its occupants and went to wait for Lucien on the bridge that lead out of town towards the mountains. He nibbled on some bread and cheese as he listened to the sound of the water rushing over the rocks underneath him. It was a calming sound that soothed his jangled nerves somewhat, and also helped distract him just a little from the fact that he had no access to coffee.

Now that several days had passed since first waking up on that road to Helgen, his body had acclimated enough to remind him, at that god-awful pre-dawn hour, oh by-the-way aren't we addicted to caffeine and why haven't you gotten your fix yet?! Unfortunately, far as he could find from both the inns in Riverwood and in Whiterun, coffee just didn't exist in Skyrim. Apparently Nords just woke up and powered through mornings like Kryptonians.

On top of the growing headache behind his eyes that always signaled the first miserable sign of caffiene withdrawl, Tim was also coping with the lingering pain from his burns. Though he'd used the balm and re-wrapped his torso, upper left arm, and shoulder in linen bandages, the ache of the burn had made it nearly impossible to sleep, especially since he couldn't reach the entire burn area on his back. There were areas he just couldn't get to on his own, and he hadn't wanted to ask for help from anyone else.

So he was sore, tired, and feeling irritable at hell. If it weren't for the weight of the three hundred gold coins resting in pouch at his waist, he would've seriously considered leaving Lucien behind to spare him the pain of dealing with his foul mood. The poor museum man just didn't deserve that.

"I'm going to step out on a limb and guess you are not typically a morning person."

Tim glanced toward the voice and scanned Lucien carefully. While the man had professed not to be much of a fighter, at least he had the sense to know how to dress for the climate they were about to travel into. He appeared to be wearing multiple, sensible layers of clothing meant to keep him warm underneath a long robe that was trimmed with intricate embroidery and had a hood that was already drawn over his head. Above that he wore long fur cloak that settled upon his shoulders and down his back. The man also had a backpack that was probably filled with his research gear, a small oil lantern that was clipped to one side of his belt, and a sheathed sword strapped to the other side.

Tim smiled wryly. "I've always been more of a night owl," he said, hoping belatedly that owls were actually a bird that existed in this place.

Apparently they were as Lucien gave him a sympathetic look. "I understand completely. Used to be the same way when I entered university a few years back. Here." The scholar reached into his bag and pulled out what looked like a leather waterskin.

Tim took the waterskin and noticed it felt warm. He gave Lucien a quizzical look.

"It's a blend of tea I concocted to help with these kinds of mornings. Brewed some up and made enough for both of us. I figured it was the least I could do for surprising you last night with 'extra baggage' for your trip to the Barrows." Lucien urged Tim to try it.

Curiously, Tim did take sip. It definitely wasn't coffee, but as far as teas went it wasn't that bad. There was definitely a strong herbal quality to it, though Tim couldn't even begin to identify what it could be from. There was also a slight smokiness to the flavor as well, as if there was some sort of roasted grain mixed in. But most important of all, whatever was in it was taking the edge off his caffeine withdrawl symptoms.

"Thanks Lucien. I really needed that," he said after a moment.

"Wonderful! Shall we be off then?"

***

When the pair of them left Riverwood, though the sun hadn't risen yet the sky was clear. Unfortunately, the further up the mountain they went towards the Barrows, the worse the weather got. First there was fog. Then there was snow. Tim had shrugged his own fur cloak into a better position to cover more of his body. A glance backward confirmed Lucien had done the same. It was clear neither of them were acclimated to this kind of weather, not like the local Nords.

"How long do you think it will take to reach the Barrow?" Lucien asked as he paused to warm his hands over his small oil lantern.

Tim made a mental note to purchase a lantern the next time he saw one at a general store. "Gerdur said that once we reach the abandoned tower, we should be about halfway there."

They continued their trek up the barely there path for about an hour. The snow and the fog made it hard to see more than a few yards far in front of them. For awhile there, Tim wondered if perhaps they had missed seeing the abandoned tower at all.

As their path began to level off where the mountain began to naturally plateau Tim could finally see it. There was an old stone watchtower set right at the edge of a steep cliff overlooking the valley below.

"Finally," Lucien said as he caught sight of the tower as well. "Let's stop there for a bit of a rest before going up the rest of the way."

Tim almost agreed with him, but then he noticed movement around the base of the tower. "Wait!" he said as he reached out to snag Lucien by the cloak and dragged him behind a large pile of rocks.

"What's wron--" Lucien started to ask, but was startled by the expression on his companion's face. Tim's face was a mask of deadly serious focus as he stared at the tower from behind the cover of the rocks.

"There are people at the tower. At least two."

Lucien peeked over the top of the rocks, eyes squinting as he tried to see through the fog and snow. "They must be the bandits that have taken root in this area. But are you sure about the number? I can barely see the outline of the tower through all this mist, let alone any people." When he didn't get an answer, Lucien glanced to his side. "Timothy?"

Much to his surprise, he was all alone except for Tim's footprints winding around the rocks in the snow.

***

Tim stealthily moved closer to the tower by slinking from cover to cover. He hoped Lucien would take the unspoken hint and stay behind until he was done.

This... felt good. Hiding in shadows. Keeping a civilian safe. Creeping up on goons/bandits while he plotted their inevitable takedown. Finally, for the first time since arriving in Skyrim, Tim felt like himself.

From where he sat, he could see that there was just a change in the guard. One who had been standing at a post a few yards from the tower entrance was swapped by another who'd walked out from it. Tim counted his lucky stars. It was this movement that had caught his attention earlier. Due to the weather, if it had just been the guard standing there, he might not have caught sight of him until it was too late.

Once the other guard disappeared into the tower, leaving his partner alone, Tim made his move.

The solid THUNK of the steel dagger embedding itself in the trunk of the tree he'd been leaning on immediately caught the attention of the bandit guard, startling him from his attempt to stay warm at his post.

"What the--?!" he exclaimed as he whipped his head to the left and saw the dagger vibrating mere inches from his nose. Then the sound of rustling in a nearby set of bushes, and the sight of the snow-laden branches jostling around immediately caught his eye. It looked as if there was a shadow hunched behind it. With a growl, the guard immediately drew his sword and rushed the bushes, prepared to slice open whoever had thrown the dagger. However, he ended up choking on his warcry as he saw that there was nothing but a backpack sitting in the snow. "Huh?"

Tim smirked as he crept out from behind a large boulder, his quarterstaff a comfortable weight in his hands as he prepared to swing it at his unsuspecting target.

***

The sound of a body falling to the ground with a muffled groan after a series of suspicious thudding noises caught the attention of the original guard as she poked her head out of the tower's entrance. This one drew her bow and nocked an arrow immediately upon seeing that their compatriot was not where he was supposed to be. Cautiously, she walked across the bridge that led to the mountainside. Then she saw the body of the other guard.

"Skialg!" she called out with alarm. Caution thrown to the wind, she rushed forward to check on him, though, she never saw the staff that jutted out in front of her feet, tripping her into the snow.

The moment the bow was out of her hands, Tim stepped out and kicked it well out of reach. The female Nord bandit looked up to find a wooden staff pointed ominously at her face. Her eyes widened in horror.

"You've got two choices," Tim said with a dark smirk and a low tone. "You can either jog down the mountain and never come back, or you can end up like your friend there, taking a nap in the snow. Which would you prefer?"

Tim was ready for a counterattack, and was mildly surprised when it never came. He was expecting anger and retaliation. Instead, there appeared to be genuine terror on the woman's face as she nervously scrambled to her feet and booked it down the mountain path, racing past Lucien without a second though even though she could clearly see him.

As soon as she was out of sight, Tim relaxed and rested his staff on his shoulder. "Well that was disappointing," he said as Lucien walked up to him. Though the sky was still overcast, somewhere beyond the clouds the sun had risen and had lightened up their surroundings considerably. "Are bandits around here always so skittish?"

"Well how would you feel if you had a mage's staff aimed at your face?" Lucien said with a disapproving frown. "Honestly, Timothy! A Fire Blast or Sparks or Frostbite at point-blank range like that would have been completely excessive and resulted in backlash on you as well as your target. Who taught you how to use a staff with such bad form anyways?"

"Mage's staff?" Tim looked at Lucien with confusion.

Lucien noticed the odd look Tim gave him, then motioned for TIm to give him the staff. Without protest, Tim handed it over. After a moment, it was the scholar's turn to look confused. "Wait... Is this... Just a stick?"

"Actually, it's a quarterstaff."

"But... Wait, so you don't use magic at all?"

"No."

"But you carry staff."

"Yes."

"That has no magic whatsoever."

"I guess not? Wasn't expecting it to when I bought it."

"But... What do you do with this, if not to cast spells?"

Tim blinked at him, then rubbed the back of his neck. "I just... well... hit people with it?"

Lucien gaped at him. "And, that works?"

Tim pointed at the other bandit that was still unconscious.

"Mara's mercy! Did you actually kill that bandit with a stick?!" Lucien went over and poked the bandit with Tim's quarterstaff experimentally

Tim sighed. "No, he's not dead. Just unconscious. He'll be out for hours, and we'll be long gone by then."

Lucien straightened up with a contemplative expression on his face. "So... your entire plan to get us past the bandits on our way to the Barrow was to sneak up on your own, with just a stick, to bludgeon a pair of bandits into Oblivion, but not really because you had no intention of actually killing them?"

"Yeah. Pretty much," Tim remarked as he went back to the original guard's tree. He tugged the dagger out of its bark and then went to retrieve his backpack from where he'd thrown it earlier. "Maybe it doesn't make sense to you, but even if they're bandits and on the wrong side of the law, they're still people with lives and possibly even families. To end their lives so casually, as if they were worth nothing at all..." He sighed as he closed up his pack. "It's just... not the way I was raised. Ending another human life should never be an option if there are other solutions available."

When Tim looked at Lucien again, he found the scholar studying him in a way that made him feel a little uncomfortable, like he was a puzzle needing to be solved. "That's a very noble sentiment. Truly in the spirit of Stendarr himself," Lucien finally said as he handed the quarterstaff back to Tim. "Hopefully it won't get you killed one day. Tamriel could use more people who thought like you do, though I doubt the bandits on the road will show us the same mercy."

Tim gave Lucien a weak smile. "Hopefully," he echoed. Then he motioned for Lucien to wait as he took a few minutes to drag the still unconscious bandit back into the tower. When Tim came back out to continue his journey with Lucien to the Barrows, he shrugged his shoulders at the odd look the scholar gave him. "What? It wouldn't be much better if I left him out in the open to die of exposure or to be eaten by a wolf."

Lucien laughed as he walked alongside Tim once more up the mountainside. "Somewhere up in the shrubbery there's a starving wolf that's sure to be cursing your name right now."

"Well lucky for me, I've got a big stick."

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

Author Note: This is being pantsed more than plotted, and this is not beta read. We'll see where this journey takes us. Mostly I'm just doing this for my own amusement.

Note: If you have any questions about the playthrough and Tim's feelings/experiences that aren't described in the chapters, please ask me in the comments. I'll do my best to answer your questions as best I can.

#elder scrolls dc #skyrim fanfiction #tes 5 skyrim #tim drake #red robin #batfam fanfic #wip #afewnovelideas #crossover

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whyralltheusernamestaken · 4 years

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Metanoia

Todoroki Shouto x reader part 1

Metanoia - the journey of changing one's heart, mind, self or way of life

Where a boy sent to jail for murdering his father falls in love with the girl who delivers his meals.

Words : 1,691

Masterlist

Warnings : graphic content (not too gory), swearing

A/N : angst angst angst heheh

If you’ve read my oneshot ‘curse’, it’s actually in the same universe where Bakugou is emperor.

Hope you enjoy!

Please leave a heart or comment! <3

They had caught the beast. Chains wrapped around his wrists, multiple wounds decorating his pale skin, ghastly purples and reds. His porcelain complexion hindered by a fresh burn on his left eye, scar flesh a flush red against the rest of his snowy skin. You had almost threw up at the sight of him. His bones stuck out, hair matted and unwashed and his injuries were not getting any better in the slightest. "D-do you want some help?" you whispered as he tried to sit up, groaning in pain. "No." he spat out, head titled backwards to lay on the wall as he counted to five before propping himself up. "Alright." you nodded, secretly happy that you didn't need to approach him. His frail appearance did not cover for the knowledge you had of which he murdered his father. Such a powerful figure in the village could not have fallen prey to a teenager so easily. You kept your distance for the first few days, trying to start up conversations and only receiving uninterested noises from the latter. He refused to entertain your small talk, instead prying about your true intentions. It had to have been a good few months before he finally opened up. It was small at first, like his name. Of course you already knew, the entire town and heard of the Todoroki's even before the incident, them being the family of the mayor and all, but hearing it directly from him filled you with a small amount of pride. "Hey Todoroki." you called out as you walked towards his cell, pushing the tray of food through the small entrance at the corner of the bars and towards him. "Hello." he replied, standing up and retrieving his only meal for the day. "I feel as if I'm getting more food these days." he began, settling down in front of the bars as you sat opposite him. "Hmm, is that so?" you hummed, staring at the tray sat in his lap and your mouth watered. The scent of food lulled you in and before you noticed, your stomach was rumbling loudly. "Do you want some?" he asked, chewing on a hard piece of bread as his hand offered some to you. You smiled at the gesture, shaking your head. "It's alright, I'm going to eat once I've finished giving out everyone's meals." He nodded. "I'm alright today. Go finish your round and then eat." he ushered you away and back to your trolley of food. "Thank you," you grinned at his notion of care for you. "I'll see you tomorrow Todoroki." "Shouto." he responded curtly. "Alright Shouto. Bye bye." you smiled, before rolling your trolley down to the next cell, leaving the boy behind to eat away at both of your lunches. ~~~ It had been around half a year since you first met him and as you got to know the boy, you felt yourself hopelessly fall for him. Giving him your portions of lunch was something you did at first because you pitied him, not that you would ever tell him. He had been suspicious of the subtle increase in his portions, but you made sure to keep quiet about the truth. You had learnt to live with only two meals, making sure to eat much moor at breakfast and no one noticed as the orphanage cared little for their inhabitants. But as his condition became better, the guards grew suspicious. It had been a fault on your part, talking about the outside world and why he didn't try to escape. He had agreed that he could easily escape the wretched place, but he had nowhere to go. He had killed one of his family, so that wasn't an option, and you didn't have a home of yourself either, wasting away at the orphanage until they could kick you out at 16. You tried to reason that it would be a bittersweet victory, a win none the less, but you soon realised the extent to which he had utterly given up on himself. The guards had heard you and after you finished your rounds, they had taken you away for punishment. Todoroki had noticed your disappearance almost immediately, growing wary as the daylight hours shortened and you hadn't popped in at all. He was certain it was due to your topic of conversation the day before. He had asked the other girl who took over your rounds but she said she didn't know and no matter how much he pried, she kept to that story. It had been 3 rounds since he last saw you and his mood worsened greatly, much to the guard's dismay. He had managed to freeze off his restraints after removing the quirk disabler with his teeth. Now he was free to move around however he liked and the guards were terrified, after all, only a certain few people had quirks. "Do you think we should bring the girl in?" one of them whispered, to which the other nodded quickly to. "Do it now, I don't want to die." he replied before pushing away the other. "Hurry up." he shouted before turning back to look at cell. At the same moment Todoroki's head snapped up, icy glare meeting the guard's eyes, to which he quickly flinched and looked away. You slowly opened your eyes as light flooded the room. Titling your head so it was upright, you felt yourself shrink back into the wall behind you as one of the guards marched towards you, one hand on his sword. "Hurry up, that ice shit won't stop fucking around." he cursed, grabbing you roughly by the arm before throwing you to your feet in front of him, closing the cell door behind him. You returned with a small limp in your step. You grinned as best as you could at the male behind the bars, tugging down your sleeves as far as they would go, awkwardly skipping over to sit in front of the cell. "H-hey Shouto." you greeted, your eyes flickering to the ice plastered around all of the walls. "You alright?" "Me?" he shouted, startling both of you with the volume of his voice. His eyes widened and he looked down, lowering his voice. "Sorry." "No no no." you quickly said, waving your hands about frantically. "It's definitely not your fault. I was just a little bit careless." you explained, giving him an reassuring smile and her looked at you in doubt. "I'm honestly fine Shouto." you said, giving him a thumbs up and he slowly nodded. "I will make sure that doesn't happen again Y/N." You gave him another smile and he extended his arms through the bars before wrapping his hands around your own. You felt your face flush, a stupid grin on your face, ears red. And even under the dim lighting of the where the cells were, he could make out the red across your face.

You two sat in silence, gently squeezing your fingers together as you simply stared into each others eyes. An almost sad moment as he tried to ask about your disappearance, only for you to dismiss it, simply staring back into his one teal and another grey eye. It was sad indeed, yet for you almost romantic too.

But all bittersweet things must come to an end. "I'm so sorry to cut this short Shouto but I've got to get back. God knows what they'll do to me, I've missed so many chores." you rambled, your time away from the orphanage finally hitting you, pulling his hand towards you and gently kissing his knuckles before letting go. "I'll see you tomorrow." you waved, not waiting for his response before hurriedly running out. And so he waited all night for your return, spending every moment he was awake thinking about your gesture earlier that day. You had never shown your affection physically and the boy couldn't help but become slightly flustered at the action. Not only had you held hands with him for the first time in the six or seven months he has gotten to know you, but you had also kissed his hand.

Although he would’ve much preferred if the latter was on his lips instead, he couldn’t help but let them grace upwards into a smile. The hours of the night drew longer than he wished for, and he spent his time creating small sculptures with his ice, often resembling the young girl that had simply captivated his heart. And when the daylight hours finally came, his anticipation had been replaced with utter dread as he heard screaming and shouting. He quickly rushed to the bars, hands wrapped tightly around the metal as he tried to peer out into the space. The metal doors soon swung open and a figure was thrown inside. "You don't have long brat. Hurry up." "Thank you so much." you repeated over and over again before picking yourself up and rushing to Todoroki's cell, wrapping your hands around his as you looked him in the face, trying so desperately to etch every feature of his into your memory. He grew alarmed at the panic reflected in your face and he shook your hand off one of his and gently brought it up to cradle your cheek, brushing his thumb back and forth on where he was sure that the tears were on only minutes before. "What's wrong Y/N?" he asked softly, eyes paining as you started to sob. He felt his heart tear to shreds as he watched the person he had grown to love crying hysterically. He was so close to her and yet so far, unable to even comfort her with a hug as he stayed separated from her by the quirk resistant bars of metal. "Please talk to me." he begged, his voice wavering as you continued to sob, hands wrapped tightly around the one on your cheek. "Come on Y/N. Talk to me please, I'm begging you." "T-they're taking me away." you spoke through sobs, wiping your eyes before returning your hand back to grasping his. "The orphanage. They're sending me away."

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yuna-dan · 4 years

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48. meeting again at a high school reunion au with prinxiety?

Hi!! I live the way it ended, and while my intention was to write it romantically, i think it can be read as platonic. Also, wow, it’s been ages since i’ve written a straight relationship (it will make sense, roman is a bisexual™)

I like the way it ended, but not the rest of it. I think it’s very slow.

Warning: Mentions of bullying, racism and transphobia, nothing graphic though.

Buy me a kofi? [Help me, pls] | Masterpost

Tag list: @just-some-gt-trash \ @theunoriginaldaisy \ @awkwardkindanerd \ @cas-is-a-hunter \ @underthesea73 \ @mariita-2006 \ @prinxietyforever \ @you-deserve-the-worlds \ @batpinkstudentpersona \ @such-as-we-are-made-such-we-be \ @obviouslyelementary \ @floatyghosty \ if you wanna be added to the tag list please interact with this

Highschool was weird.

That was an understatement, clearly. For Román Sánchez, a queer kid from an immigrant family, it was nightmare. When he graduated and went to college, he promised himself he would never look back.

Sometimes, he did regret it. Specially for Virgil.

A sigh escaped his lips and he leant his face against the window of the bus, Virgil was his best friend on that period of his life. He was his rock on that time, and Román was his. They stayed in contact a few months after graduation, until Román moved away for college.

It wasn’t that they ended up bad, fighting or just ignoring each other. They just… drift away. They sent each other merry Christmas or felices fiestas or even hey, lol do you remember that time I was so drunk I broke your closet? but somewhere in the middle they stopped.

It was sad, for him at least.

He wondered if Virgil was doing okay. He tried to look him up on his Facebook and Twitter, but apparently, he deleted his profiles.

Román pushed his twin slightly when Remus started dozing off, but at least that broke the train of thought going through his head.

To be honest, he was only coming to this “Lovely Highschool Reunion” in hopes to see Virgil again, and to maybe rubbed on the faces of everyone that bullied him that he was being a very successful actor, who wasn’t hiding his sexuality and was pretty much happy with his life.

Remus left out a snore, breaking Román’s thoughts once again.

“You’re gross.” He mumbled, staring into the window.

“Your face is gross.” His twin grumbled back.

Román laughed softly, and closed his eyes, hoping to sleep a little.-

---

They arrived at a hotel, a day before the party.

“I’m glad my bro is rich, otherwise I would’ve probably ended up sleeping on a park.” Remus said, entering their shared room because Román refused to pay $45 dollars for another one.

“I’m glid mi bri is rich, menso [dumb].” He mimicked, earning a playful glare from his brother who was unpacking.

Remus ended up majoring in psychology, and was working on a police station, helping with profiles of criminals and offering his shrinks advices to policemen who needed it. Román couldn’t be prouder of him.

He remembered, how back in highschool he would prefer dead rather than interact with his twin. They were, to this day, opposites. He hated his guts. That changed, of course, not only after their parents passed away but also as they matured and realized that they only had each other.

Román was bullied most of his highschool years for being a latino, so he tried to hide his heritage as much as possible, while Remus was the latino who would yell Cielito Lindo when something good happened, he even grew a mustache for fuck sake. Román hated it, it made his blood boiled with shame and rage.

Eventually, and with Remus help, he accepted that he wasn’t bullied because he was latino, but because people are assholes.

Now, Remus and Román were best friends, and he wouldn’t change it for the world.

“Wanna go out tonight?” Remus asked, throwing himself at one of the beds.

“Maybe, for a drink.”

“Or… we could stay up late trying to chismear [gossip], I heard that Brad isn’t coming cuz he’s in jail, can you believe?”

Román held back a tiny smile, “Why do you keep contact with this people, Re?”

He shrugged, “El chisme llega a mi, yo no lo pido.” [Gossip arrives, I don’t ask for it]

“Yeah, sure, viejo chismoso.”

In the end, they did end up just chatting and gossiping around their ex-classmates lives, even checking their profiles on the internet and laughing at the cringest photos.

“Do you think he will come?”

“Mmm? Vee?” Remus blocked his phone, “I mean, probably…” He trailed off, not knowing what else to say, “You want him to come?”

“I wish he did…”

Remus hummed, probably thinking as the shrink he is, but said nothing.

When Remus tried to speak again, Roman was already asleep.

This was a bad idea.

Annie stared into the mirror, at the purple dress that Patton had bought him. It was weird, how back in highschool he barely talked to him, and now he was his best friend. Even though, that word tasted weird on her tongue.

“I’m not sure about this.” She said, twirling with the dress on.

“I think you look great, Ann.”

She grumbled.

She would stare into the eyes of people who still thought about her as Virgil, and she wasn’t even sure how to feel about it. She wanted to see Román again, of course, and while she knew she still had his phone, still she wanted to tell him on his face.

“Hey Ro, guess what?”

She postponed it for three years, and now this was probably her last chance. Patton said she was being dramatic, but she felt as if she owed Ro an explanation on why she suddenly stopped talking to him.

She still stalked him on Facebook, more times than she’s proud on admitting. Since she deleted the Virgil Sanders profile and created Annie Sanders, she wasn’t brave enough to send a friend request to him, but she could still see some of his posts, as well as his Instagram account, and since Roman was an actor, he was more public there.

“Stop overthinking, An.” Pat hit her softly on her shoulder, “it’s going to be okay.”

“What if someone makes fun?”

“Then that’s their problem, sweetheart.”

“I hate when you’re optimistic and right.”

Patton chuckled, but didn’t say anything.

“This is boring.” Remus nodded, “The food it’s awful.” Another nod, “People are being hypocrites.” Nod, “And he’s not here.”

“Hey, Ro!” Someone interrupted whatever Remus was going to say, and he just shrugged and went back to his drink and probably texting his significant other. Román turned around, with a smile on his face waiting for another person to say something about how much he changed, only to find Pat and a girl.

“Pat!” He said, a little more excited. Patton wasn’t his friend, per se, but he wasn’t a jerk back then, “How are you?”

Patton seemed nervous, but then again, a highschool reunion wasn’t exactly a place to be calm. “Huh, I’m doing fine Ro, I see you’re in acting, I was very happy when I saw you got a leading role.”

Román felt himself smiling softly, a genuine one, “Oh, thank you very much.”

Then a wicked smile appeared on Pat’s face, grabbed the wrist of the woman behind him, “I actually went with An to see the movie, you should talk with her!” He then turned to Remus, who was watching the whole scene with an amused face, “Ree~ Please come with me!” and grabbed his twin’s arm and walked away.

That was weird.

“Hello? I’m Roman, nice to meet you, Ann.”

The girl looked away, she was blushing. Roman noticed that she was pretty, a sharp jawline, and pretty green eyes her eyes looked like Vee’s. Her gaze was on the floor, as if she was trying to make herself smaller.

“You, huh, I know you.” She looked up, like she was scared, “I meant it like, we’ve already met…”

“Huh? I don’t remember you. Higschool was horrible, for me anyways.”

Ann made a face, like she was hurt, “Then why did you came?”

“I wanted to meet someone. My bestfriend, we lost contact. Maybe you know him? His name is Virgil!”

She winced when the name left his mouth, “I huh, I am him. I mean… surprise?”

Román stared at her, “I’m not understanding you, Ann…”

She took a deep breath and lock her emerald with his own eyes. “I am Virgil.” She winced again, “I was Virgil. I’m trans. Nice to see you again.”

For Ann, time stopped the moment she said the last word. She knew that Román wouldn’t be transphobic, but at the same time she was so damn scared.

“Oh.” He simply said.

Then she felt the way Ro’s arms were circling around her, and she melted instantly on the embrace, “Goddamit Ann.” He was wetly laughing, “You could’ve just told me.”

“I didn’t want to tell you over text, and then… time flies.”

“I missed you so much! I have so much to tell you!”

And just like that, it was like time stopped around them.

It was like time didn’t even went by.

I don’t think there are a lot of MtF fics, and I really wanted to write one, but I wasn’t sure how to, so I hope this is okay.

Thank you so much for reading!!

#yuna's fic #ts fic #sanders sides fic #prinxiety #ts prinxiety #ts #thomas sanders #anxiety sanders #virgil sanders #ts anxiety #ts virgil #prince sanders #roman sanders #creativity sanders #ts prince #ts roman #ts creativity #im tagging this and my cat is just like staring at me demanding to go back to sleep #creativitwins

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wintcrwinds · 4 years

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(me: matty is on break also me: here is a giant matty factfile)

The Basics

Name? Mateo Rosario Hernandez Moreno

Age? 26

Approximate height? 5′9

Hair colour? Dark brown

Eye colour? Brown

Do they speak with an accent? No

Where are they from? Zuzu City

Where are they now? Stardew Valley

Backstory

Who are their parents? Héctor and Jennifer Moreno

What is their earliest memory? Watching campy old superhero cartoons on tv with his dad, back at their old apartment. Matty would stay up late waiting for him to get home from his job bussing tables at their local diner, and would inevitably fall asleep before the show was over.

What did they want to be when they grew up? A costumed crime-fighter, a server at JojaBurger, or Tony Hawk, in that order.

What did/do their parents want them to be? They don’t really see each other enough to get into it on the job front, though Matty supposes it would’ve been nice if he’d’ve been a tech genius like them - carried on the family business or something.

Do they have siblings? Older or younger? Brothers or sisters? None, but he did have an imaginary older brother in the same way most kids have imaginary friends. Bit sad, innit.

Do they have or have they ever had children? How many? No, none, and never!

Do they or have ever had a significant other? Are they still with them? Why? Why not? Not a significant other - he’s dated a little, but his enthusiasm tends to scare people off.

Up until now, what’s the most noteworthy thing they’ve done? To them? To the people around them? Matty doesn’t really think he’s done anything noteworthy. Noteworthy things are for other, cooler people.

Tastes

What’s your character’s favourite colour? Red! No, blue! Wait, no, red!

Do they/would they choose to wear a scent? What would it be? Axe bodyspray, he’s rich but also basic.

Do they care about what things look like? All things, or only some? Not at all. His apartment looks like a college dorm crossed with Comic Con crossed with a dumpster.

What’s their favourite ice cream flavour? Phish Food!

Are they a tea, or coffee drinker? Or soft drinks, or do they drink a lot of alcohol? What kind? Doesn’t really drink tea or coffee because his palette is that of a ten year old. He drinks a lot of JojaCola, and only bothers with alcohol when he has someone to share it with. Which isn’t very often.

What kind of books do they read? What TV shows and movies do they watch? Matty doesn’t read anything except for graphic novels and comic books because focusing on lots of words is haaaard. In terms of TV he likes most popular stuff if it isn’t too cerebral, stuff like the Walking Dead, Game of Thrones, anything from the MCU...

What kind of music do they like? Do they like music at all? He likes pop punk mostly, it’s hype!

If they were about to die, what would they have as their last meal? Mexican feast, next question.

Are they hedonistic? In all cases? Or does practicality sometimes/always/often win out? Yeah, in a way! Matty doesn’t see the point in doing stuff if he’s not excited to do it!

Do they have any philias or phobias? Nah.

Morals, Beliefs, and Faith

Do they have an internal or an external moral code? Both?

To what extent are their actions dictated by this code? Mostly, though some things (mostly grafittiing and trespassing) are worth breaking the law for.

Do they believe in a God or Gods/Goddesses/Higher being of some description? Nah.

Are they superstitious? Not really, but he will call out stuff as being bad luck.

Do they believe in an afterlife? If so, what’s it like? Yeah dude, he believes in like... alternate universes. So you die, and then you start your life over again in another version of reality.

Do they have any specific beliefs that manifest obviously? No.

Are they respectful of the beliefs of others? To what extent? Yeah, but he’d rather not talk about it? He thinks religion is private and therefore awkward to talk about.

Have they ever had to stand up to criticism for being religious? Or not being religious? Nope!

Would they be more likely to act for the good of the one, or the good of the many? The good of the many.

Relationships

Do they make friends easily? Not really, in the past people have tended to find his personality too intense to handle, and he has been told frequently that he’s annoying.

Do they have a best friend? It’s Bartholomew, his butler. Bit sad innit.

Can they get people to do what they want them to? If so, how? No. Even bribery doesn’t really work.

Do they have a lot of romantic relationships? Serious, or short term? Matty hasn’t found anyone to tolerate him long enough for any kind of romantic relationship.

Do they fall in and out of love easily? Yeah, he’s a sucker for a pretty face and a kind word.

Do strangers and acquaintances actually like them when they meet? Historically, no, but he’s hoping that will change!

Do they have a network? Not really... his parents are too often absent to count, and Bartholomew can’t be a network on his own.

What is their relationship like with their family? BIT SAD INNIT. Matty really loves his parents, and he knows they love him too, but the physical distance between them has made a metaphorical distance too.

Are they still in touch with non-family people they were in touch with a year ago? Five years? Ten? More? No.

Do they like children? Do they want children of their own? He likes kids (and frankly they usually have overlapping interests), but Matty is more a fun uncle than a father figure, he thinks.

Physical Appearance

How does this character dress? How would they choose to dress, if all options were open to them? T-shirts, hoodies, jeans, converse, denim jacket, and probably a hat of some description. Matty has enough money to dress how he wants, but his tastes trend on the cheaper side.

Do they have any tattoos? What do they mean? None.

Do they have piercings? How many? None, but maybe he wants his nose pierced.

Do they have scars? Where did they come from? Yes, Matty is extremely accident prone and hurts himself a lot. Luckily, most injuries don’t phase him much.

Do they alter their appearance in some way on a regular basis? Nope!

Is there something they’d choose to change about their appearance if they had the opportunity to? His wonky chin? :(

Is there something about their appearance they’re particularly proud of/happy with? His hair!

Objectively, are they physically attractive? Fairly plain? Unattractive? He’s cute for sure.

Do they have an accurate mental picture and opinion of their physical appearance? Yeah dude, Matty knows what he looks like, and he thinks he looks fine!

How much time do they spend thinking about their physical appearance? It would be a lot less if he wasn’t so obsessed with his hair.

General Knowledge

Can they navigate their own local area without getting lost? To what degree? No, his sense of direction is absolute garbage. Without his phone he’d be lost like 90% of the time.

Do they know who the top politician or monarch is where they live? What about elsewhere? He knows Mayor Lewis, does that count?

Do they know if/where there are any major conflicts going on right now? No.

Do they know the composition of water? ... no...

Do they know how to eat a pomegranate? Carefully?

Are they good with the technology available to them? Average? Completely hopeless? Okay, tech is something Matty is good at.

Could they paint a house? Without making a mess of it? Paint it? Yes. Do it without making a mess? Absolutely not. He’s happy to be invovled though!

Could they bake a cake? Would you eat it if they did? No, and no, he’d try so hard, but he’s literally useless and would definitely give me food poisoning.

Do they know how to perform basic maintenance on the common mode of transportation? He can maintain his skateboard, but that’s it.

Do they know the price of a loaf of bread? How much can a loaf of bread cost? 20G?

Specific Knowledge

Do they have a specific qualification in a narrow area? The only qualification he has is his high school diploma, so no.

Is there something they do or know exceptionally well that most other people don’t? He’s actually a very good artist.

Do people often comment on a particular skill or area of knowledge to this character? Behind their back? Maybe on his lack thereof. Matty doesn’t really give the impression that he has any skills or knowledge.

Is there an area this character could be considered top of their field or a genius in? God no.

Have they deliberately sought to gain knowledge in a specific area? If so, why? No, he’s stupid :(

Do they speak more than one language? More than two? Why? He speaks an embarrassingly small amount of spanish - the white family butler literally speaks more spanish than him.

Does their cultural background effect what they would be expected to know? I mean, maybe his taste in Mexican food should be better than frozen burritos from JojaMart.

Have they ever been publicly acknowledged for being well-versed in something? Never.

Have they ever been bullied for knowing a lot about something? Yeah, he reaaaally loved superheroes as a kid, and got rinsed for talking about them so much.

Do they actively seek new knowledge, or let it come to them naturally? If anything Matty avoids knowledge.

Miscellaneous

What did they have for breakfast this morning? Dry cereal because his milk went bad and he was too lazy to go and buy more.

What ridiculous belief/s did they have as a child? ): I mean, the imaginary older brother was pretty silly.

Do they like marshmallows? Yeah!

Do they sleep on their side, front, or back? On his front, mouth open, snoring.

Do they work better with sound or silence? Sound! Music makes brain work faster.

Do they have a strange obsession with something minor? His hair? Superheroes?

Do they like art? Uhhhhhh, medium? He likes comics and stuff, but he’s not going to a museum anytime soon.

How fast can they run? Fast!

Do they prefer to sit on the floor or on a chair? Floor.

What do they want, right now? A breakfast burrito. Preferably one he didn’t have to microwave himself.

#matty: about

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atsushishelteredinmoonlitjasmine · 4 years

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Fire Emblem: Awakening Thoughts

As of the date May 20th, 2020, I finished my playthrough of Fire Emblem: Awakening on its one year anniversary of when I got it. It is now June 5th of writing this. This post will be my thoughts and feelings on Awakening, much like the KH3 Grievances and Blessings post last year. Let's get into some history between me and Fire Emblem before I go into Awakening.

As I've said before, Awakening was both my first Fire Emblem game and my first Tactical RPG. Smash Bros. was where I had heard of Fire Emblem but it wouldn't be until Ultimate came out that I would start to get interested. It was because of my friend's preference for Lucina that got me into playing as her in Smash and that's pretty much how she became both one of my mains and a favorite. It honestly wasn't till I listened to the Smash remixes of Id, Conquest, and Lost in Thoughts All Alone that I decided to play Awakening and then Fates. So thanks go out to both Smash and my friend Eric for converting me to Fire Emblem trash!

Much like the KH3 Grievances and Blessings post, I'll be going over every aspect of Awakening I can think of, from the graphics to the gameplay to the story. I'll even include a Best/Worst Girl and Boy of both generations because that kind of thing seems to matter to some people, along with my reasons for why X is Y. Keep in mind that whoever I choose as those categories, it is just my opinion and you're free to disagree with me. I say this because I know that, no matter what I say, some diehard fans will get pissed at me and come at me for daring to shit on their favorite character. I already know some people are gonna get mad because they think X should be Best/Worst and that'll be fun to see (You can interpret that as sarcasm if you want).

Listed below are Awakening spoilers, so if you want to play the game and don't want to be spoiled, now's your chance to stop reading. I know Awakening came out in 2013, meaning 6 or 7 years ago, but there may be some people who haven't gotten around to playing it yet so I want to be courteous to them. Here are my thoughts on Fire Emblem: Awakening!

First off, the graphics. I think they looked really nice for a 3DS game that came out in the early 2010's and I believe this was Fire Emblem's first fully 3D game as well so that's really impressive. The in-game models were nicely detailed, the in-game sprites were nice looking, and the prerendered cutscenes were beautiful. This doesn't mean they're not without their faults, though. I wish the in-game cutscenes were more animated because it's easy to tell when an animation's been used over and over again, I feel as if the in-game sprites have some dissonance with official art, and there are times where expressions or animations for the prerendered cutscenes have looked pretty awkward. In terms of the first and last point, I'm giving IntSys some slack because, as I stated earlier, they were developing a game for the 3DS, a powerful handheld device but it's still a handheld, and this was FE's first 3D game so there may have been issues transitioning from 2D sprites to 3D models. I'll explain what I mean by my second point. I've looked at Cynthia's official art and when I see her face, I tend to see what I'd call a baby face, pudgy cheeks and all. Her in-game sprite, however, her face is sharper, more mature, if that makes sense. Maybe it's the pigtails throwing me off or it's just a difference between two art styles, I don't know. I'm not an artist so there's not much weight behind this but I'm just saying there's somewhat a dissonance between official art and in-game sprites.

Secondly, gameplay. I loved how easy it was and how I could switch between a simple and complex UI if I wanted to see which attacks could hit or what the enemy's stats were. This may sound stupid but I honestly thought it'd be way more difficult due to this being a Tactical RPG. I know strategy's a big part of Fire Emblem but strategy's not a big problem if you're like me and you grind to hell and back. Speaking of which, I played on Easy Casual mode so that might be why it seemed so simple from the get-go. Just to give you an idea of how much I grinded, I put in 200+ hours and that mostly consisted of buying a shitton of Reeking Boxes, spawning Risen on some of my favorite grind spots, and fighting them over and over again. I went through the 3 basic classes each character could have, maxed out their default class one last time, promoted them to their advanced class, and maxed out those classes 2-3 times over. I have a video on my Twitter that shows the stats of these characters and most of them are over 220 (The shapeshifters 300). Needless to say, I loved each and every fucking crit I got. Cordelia even got what I call a miracle crit, which means she got 2 crits in one round and after the enemy attacked, she got another 2 crits. Level grind ain't a joke in this game.

Thirdly, the music. Considering it's part of why I got into this game in the first place, I loved it. As I'm writing this, I'm listening to the OST and it sounds so much better when you don't have the ambient sounds and you're not listening to it through the 3DS speakers. The song that hit me the most and just gave me the overwhelming feels was Id~Sorrow as it played in Chapter 21. It fit so well with the tone of the scene and I just sat there for a few minutes, letting it play in the background as I did shit. Other notable mentions are Id~Purpose, Destiny, Conquest, and the song that is just ellipses. If the music is this good in Awakening, I can't wait to see what's in store for Fates!

Fourthly, the voice acting. For a game where most of the voices come in forms of clips, I thought they were good. Each of the actors tried their best to convey their characters in the clips they were allowed to have and I think it shows. The only critique I have, and it's not the actors' fault, is that some of the characters' voices don't fit them. I'm not saying they miscast these characters, it's more like the direction was off, if that makes sense. Let me bring up Cynthia, Kjelle, and M!Morgan as examples. I don't think it's a stretch to say that, sometimes when you look at a character, you kinda imagine what they'd sound like before you hear their actual voice, right? I already brought up Cynthia's looks so I imagined her voice to sound very high-pitched and maybe a little childlike. I hear her voice and, while she's high-pitched and some of her voice clips do go into that childlike territory, she's nasally sounding and more mature. Kjelle is a complicated case in that, her voice fits her appearance (minus the armor) but not her personality. Her personality is similar to Sully's so I figured her voice would sound gruffer and not...cute, if that's the right word. M!Morgan's, I think, everyone can see the problem with. He's supposed to be the youngest of the kids, right? Since he's the only third generation character and all that? I think he just sounds a little too old for the supposed baby of the kids. Again, I'm not saying the voices are bad or that the delivery/emotion was bad, I just think the direction in which they were voiced don't fit some of the characters. Maybe I'm just thinking in terms of archetypes or something.

Now we move on to the story. I can't say as to whether it was good or not, mainly because I spoiled myself on it way before I decided on playing Awakening, so I don't think I can say much to the quality. The least I'll say is it's serviceable. I'll admit, the one thing I was shocked by was the appearance of the Grima Avatar because I thought Grima was inside Robin the whole time and I didn't think he'd have a separate vessel. I straight up thought Grima!Robin was either my mother or a twin I wasn't aware of so I'm giving credit to the writers for surprising me. Anyway, I think the only flaw I have with the story is with the pacing. I thought the first half was fine, it wasn't too fast or too slow. It was the second half that the pacing couldn't find a middle ground. Now I'm going to say that this half was stretched out over months of my playtime so whatever I say next might be exaggerated because of my procrastinating ass so... I feel like the Valm arc was way too slow and the Grimleal arc had so much trouble finding a middle ground. The beginning of the Grimleal arc was quick but Grima himself decided that I had to finish 2 and a half chapters before I finally got to beat him and you have to deal with constant reinforcements before you kill off the target. I think if it weren't for my overleveled as fuck units, I wouldn't have finished Awakening in time for my birthday.

Just for shits and giggles, I'm gonna say what I picked for my choice with both Luce's judgement and Grima's fate. I picked the self-sacrificial choices, which means I accepted Luce's judgement and allowed her to kill me and I dealt the final blow to Grima so Chrom didn't have to. While I knew the outcomes of both choices and them ultimately not meaning anything, I wanted my Robin to reflect what I would've done and I'm a very self-sacrificial person. Because I made Chrobin happen in my playthrough, which meant Luce was my daughter, I believe that, if my child who came from an apocalyptic world told me I was the reason for that happening and that she came back through time to stop that future from happening so she and the others wouldn't suffer, I would've let her kill me. Parents would and should do anything for their kids and if my death possibly gave my daughter the chance for a better life, I'd take it in stride. As for me dealing the final blow to Grima, if it was to save everyone I loved, I would've done it. Although there's some feelings of wanting to give a big "Fuck you" to Grima and to permanently end the problem so any future descendants wouldn't have to deal with it. This section may sound more philosophical and personal than I usually write but I think it deserved it.

Now we're on to Supports and who I chose to be together. I don't think it's wrong to say that this is where the characters really get to shine and it's because of the Supports I love these kids and how much I'm going to miss them when I move on to other FE games. As for the "canon" couples, I mainly went with characters that I thought would complement each other and this was one of the few things I tried to choose for myself. I tried my best to go for pairings that weren't fan favorites but I'm also not very connected with the fandom as of writing this so I may be completely wrong in which ships were favorites or not. So here are the pairings I got for my playthrough!

Chrom-Robin

Frederick-Sumia

Virion-Miriel

Vaike-Nowi

Stahl-Sully

Lon'qu-Cordelia

Ricken-Lissa

Gaius-Maribelle

Gregor-Cherche

Libra-Panne

Henry-Olivia

Lucina-Inigo

Owain-Cynthia

Brady-Nah

Kjelle-Laurent

Severa-Yarne

Obviously, there are some characters missing from this list and I can explain why. I didn't recruit Kellam and Tharja and it's because your girl is a dumbass. Kellam, I thought, was already on my team, he was just labelled as an ally so I didn't need to recruit him. They really should've made that clear. Tharja, on the other hand, was an even bigger dumbass than me because she decided to charge after Robin, who happened to be in front and was way overleveled, and got her ass promptly beaten with a crit. I regret not getting Kellam but after hearing how awful of a person Tharja is and how many fans are willing to put aside emotional abuse and stalker-like tendencies to have a chance to fuck her, she can stay buried in the sand where I electrocuted her ass. Unfortunately, this does means Noire didn't pop up in my recruitment list and that fucking sucks. The only characters left I didn't have a pairing were Gerome and Morgan. I think Gerome wouldn't really care for a romantic partner because he's all about not wanting to create ties in this time and shit and, since I see Morgan as the baby of the kids, I figured he'd be a little too young to be in a relationship. Despite that, I wish I got him and Nah together because I found out after she was shipped with Brady that Morgan's the only S-Support she'll say "I love you" to and I was immediately filled with regret.

Before I move on to the Best/Worst contest, there's something I need to bring up because I can see what sensible fans have shown now. This game is HELLA gay. Like, holy fuck, how many instances are there where you have two characters of the same sex and they have dialogue that seems to have been written with romantic intent but the writers decide it's meant to be platonic? Maybe I just have this weird line of thought on how straights are because there's no fucking way some of these gay moments would be a thing with even the most accepting straights. Maribelle calling Lissa darling and other pet names, Robin blushing from some of the girls and even mistaking Flavia's proposition for a marriage proposal, Severa looking at Kjelle's abs, the list goes on. I'm not straight because I'd be doing some of this shit with a potential girlfriend if I could! Why did it take IntSys until 3 Houses to implement LGBT+ pairings when this game is right here?! At least this game doesn't have the weird student/teacher relationships 3H has and believe me when I say that, if it weren't for the fact I could give less of a fuck for 3H, I wouldn't play that game for that reason! Anyway, Awakening is hella gay and it should've been the first LGBT+ FE game instead of 3H.

The Best/Worst contest... As I said in the beginning, there'll be a Best/Worst Boy and Girl for both generations because that's fun and it seems to matter a lot to some people. Repeating what I said, this is just my opinion and you're free to agree or disagree with me. One rule I'm putting in is I will try my best to not pick fan favorites. Don't get me wrong when some of the crowd pleasers are good but there are other characters that deserve just as much love as the fan favorites so this is why I'm putting in this rule. Without further ado, here are the rulings!

1st Gen

Best Boy-Lon'qu

Best Girl-Panne

Worst Boy-Virion

Worst Girl-Miriel

2nd Gen

Best Boy-Owain

Best Girl-Cynthia

Worst Boy-Inigo

Worst Girl-Severa

Let's see how many people I piss off with these judgements. So, my reasoning: Best Boy for 1st gen was a big toss-up. I kept wanting to choose between Chrom, Frederick, Stahl, and Lon'qu because they really endeared themselves to me but I chose Lon'qu in the end because he's honestly such a dork (I mean, all of them are) and I gotta admire how he tries to overcome his fear of women and try being there for his wife and daughter if he happens to have one. There's also the fact he has to literally psyche himself up to talk to women if you check in with him in the Barracks and I'm just like "Fucking hell, that's adorable and I GET it". Best girl is Panne because believe me when I say that the moment I see this woman and hear her voice, I'm immediately gay for her. Then she transforms into a giant rabbit, kicks so much ass, and I'm in love. Funny story, I'd talk to my friend about my progress in Awakening on Discord and the moment he asks me who best girl was and I answered Panne, he called me out for being a furry. Granted, I would've automatically said Luce but I'm trying not to pick fan favorites so I get his criticism. If a woman like Panne existed in real life, bunny ears and tail and all, I'd probably become a furry for her, no questions asked. As for worst boy and girl, Virion and Miriel are characters I honestly don't give much of a fuck about. Not that they're bad, I just don't care about their archetypes, if that makes sense. Miriel I found to be boring and Virion's of the Casanova archetype and I've always kinda hated that archetype so that's why they're on the ranking.

Oh boy, 2nd gen. So, best boy being Owain. This boy is going to kill me. He's so adorable and sweet and he's just a good boy. There are literally Tweets on my Twitter where I just gush about him and he deserves so much love. He's just a sweet boy who loves his parents so much and is so proud to be their son and how he manages to rope his cousins (Luce and Morgan) into going with his fantasies and how they just go along with it! Owain is a cinnabun and I want to protect him and love him. Anyway, best girl being Cynthia is sorta the same reason as Owain. She's just so bubbly and happy and just adorable. Yeah, she may get carried away with showboating but I just love her earnest desire to be a hero. I think everyone can see why I paired Owain and Cynthia up. Now for the worst. Inigo and Severa are probably the only characters in this whole game that straight up got on my fucking nerves and for different reasons. Outside of his supports with Olivia and Henry, Inigo's constant flirting with the girls and Robin and inability to take no for an answer just rubbed me the wrong way. I actually put out a Tweet saying how Inigo's like an r/niceguy and I still think he is one. Course, this doesn't mean I didn't have my fair share of laughs from him. I fucking died at his and Gerome's A-Support where he ends up pathetically crying after the emo loner got more game than him and Gerome has to comfort his ass, that was hilarious. It also helped the fact that Liam O'Brien, who I've only heard him as the brooding emo loner role, voiced Inigo as the complete opposite of that and I had a blast. Severa, on the other hand, was...really unpleasant. There's a reason I hate Tsunderes with a passion and it's because they're unnecessarily bitchy towards everyone they know, even if they have no reason to be. Severa, however, was somehow worse because she went out of her way to be horrible to people. My dislike for her was cemented the moment I saw her and Cynthia's C-Support and she chose to make fun of her, despite Cynthia minding her own business and Severa just going "fuck it". However, I should express that I understand why Inigo and Severa are the way they are and that's why I'm not being as harsh on them as I could be. They still have their good moments and I can appreciate them while also raking them over the coals.

So that concludes my review/experience of Fire Emblem: Awakening! Despite some moments of frustration and annoyance, I had fun playing this! I mean it when I say I'm gonna miss these kids but I had plenty of time to spend with them so it's time to move on to newer lands. Next up on the list is Fates and I think I'm siding with Hoshido first. It's funny how, despite me spoiling the story for myself 3 separate times, I still can't remember much, if any, of it so that may say something about the quality. I also know Fates is pretty divisive among the fandom but the thing I know it for is the weird pseudo-incestuous ships it has so that's going to be fun! Hopefully, I'll get around to playing as one of my other mains in Smash, my water horse dragon Corrin, sometime soon and I'll be sure to let everyone know when my journey will start!

#fire emblem awakening

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memaha19 · 4 years

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Things I Want(ed) From KH3 That Re:Mind is Probably Not Going to Fix

AKA, a brief interlude from Frozen 2 posting because Kingdom Hearts was on my mind this morning.

AKA, I’m excited for Re:Mind but still...

AKA, KH3 disappointed me and I’m still salty about it almost a year later.

AKA, there are many “my problems with KH3″ posts/discussions floating out there on the internet and many are probably worded better than mine but, as I said, the game was on my mind this morning.

Just...the worlds. The Disney worlds in KH3 bothered me. There were so few of them but they were so so LONG. Some of them were painfully long. Toy Box felt like the longest experience of my life. Every time I thought that level was coming to an end, BAM, another trek to another area. And Arendelle...though I love Frozen, there’s only so many times I can trek up the mountain only to get thrown off and have to climb back up again. There were so few worlds, only seven, I believe, (because we’re not counting Twilight Town or the 100 Acre Woods, more on those later), that I think they could’ve given us a few more worlds and made the levels a little...shorter? A little more detailed and charming? The levels were huge but empty and devoid of the character that previous Disney worlds had in other games. The previous main games had about 10 or 11 worlds, not including the throwaways (like Atlantica in KH2) or the final worlds (TWTNW and End of the World), so there could’ve been some more! Birth By Sleep had numerous shorter worlds and I vastly prefer that to slogging through the same world for hours. Even the way that KH2 had us revisit each world would’ve been nice. What’s more, they could’ve taken some of the massive time and space devoted to the empty, excruciatingly long Disney worlds and given us more time in Twilight Town or the Keyblade Graveyard, or put a playable Radiant Garden in the game. Those non-Disney worlds always served as nice interludes in the other games and it’s sorely lacking in this one. (And yes, I have heard that Re:Mind is going to let Scala be a playable world, so I’m excited for that!)

Related, I also wanted some worlds from older Disney films. I know the other games have had worlds from older films, but almost all of KH3′s worlds were so jarringly...current. I would’ve liked to see some of the older Disney film worlds rendered in the beautiful graphics of KH3, but, instead, the oldest film represented was Hercules (1997). Three of the worlds (maybe four, actually, with the Pirates world) were from movies from this decade (Corona, Arendelle, and San Fransokyo).

Related, they did the 100 Acre Woods so dirty. It was disappointing and short. It used to be a fun little interlude between the big worlds in previous games, a time to chill and play a mini-game and not have to fight a big boss fight. This was like “hello, here’s one mini game, goodbye.”

Related: all that Twilight Town exploration we got in the other games and this one gives us the forest and the town square area and that’s it?! We can’t even go to the clock tower or inside the mansion? When we first got to Twilight Town I was like “wow this is gorgeous!” and then quickly disappointed when I realized we couldn’t go anywhere.

Related, I’ve seen others say this and I agree: the Disney worlds seem like they’re just there, oftentimes, to get in your way. They feel like obstacles to the actual plot because they didn’t bother to place much/any relevance to the plot into any of the Disney worlds. Sometimes we get little snippets of the big story, like Marluxia and Larxene hanging around in Corona and Arendelle just to say cryptic things without ever being a real threat (that in itself is weird too, I spent ALL of the Corona level bracing myself for a fight with Marluxia only to fight...Mother Gothel’s heartless?) but it feels like two different games: The KH that wants to still be about Disney worlds and the KH that has gotten so deep in its own world building that it doesn’t have time for anything else.

Related, again: KH3 has an abundance of Disney worlds where Sora being there doesn’t make any difference to the plot. The most fun Disney worlds have always been the ones that have an original story that we’re actually involved in. Corona is just the plot of Tangled with Sora and co. tagging along. Their presence or lack thereof make no difference to the story. Arendelle is the same way.

The boss battles in the worlds were...lame. I understand that it maybe doesn’t make sense to fight someone like Mother Gothel, who never shows any physical fighting power in Tangled, but we can’t fight Zurg? We’re in a literal toy store and we can’t fight Zurg as the boss? We have to fight a weird doll and 800 robots? We have to fight Hans’ heartless? Not Hans? We fight Mother Gothel’s heartless? Not Marluxia, who’s been harassing us all level long? I understand that they held the KH characters back because of the whole “assembling 13 pieces of darkness for a big final battle” thing, but we had to fight Xemnas like ten times in previous games, they could let us fight Marluxia twice. I feel like the other games were a lot better at having us face a combo of heartless/nobodies/unversed AND Disney bosses. But, as the game has really zero interest in making the Disney worlds a part of the plot, they throw these cheap (and endless) unversed/heartless bosses at us and they’re all so EASY. They could have, and probably should have, let us fight the Organization at the end of each world and then let us fight them again in the Keyblade Graveyard, similar to the way Chain of Memories had us fight each Organization member a couple times.

When you finally do get through the Disney worlds, the ending is like “here’s all these characters that have been missing from the rest of the game” and the Keyblade Graveyard flings boss battle after boss battle at your face without much rhyme or reason. And while some of them are fun, some of them feel like “let’s just pair these characters together and make you fight them at the same time so we can save some time because we didn’t bother to put any of these fights into an earlier part of the game”. I’m looking at the Luxord/Marluxia/Larxene fight in particular. I would’ve understood pairing the last two together, but then Luxord is also there like they didn’t have any other place to put him.

This game is too easy. I’m not great at video games. I’m good-ish. I’m into stories more than anything so I hate when a game’s difficulty keeps me from completing it and keeps me from seeing more of the story. But I still like a little challenge. I have not-so-fond memories of yelling at the TV as I died time and time again fighting Ansem/Riku at Hollow Bastion in KH1, but I also have fond memories of finally beating him and what a rush it was! I didn’t get any of that in KH3. I’m not sure I died more than once or twice, if that.

The way they just let the Organization members hang out in the worlds and do nothing has always seemed weird to me. They’re big parts of the overall plot but now they just stand around and verbally harass Sora? As I said above, I spent all of Corona thinking I was going to have to face Marluxia at the end. Instead, they stand around in the worlds and then they stand around in the Keyblade Graveyard in the cutscenes and just talk. Also, okay, maybe I get the reasoning behind why Luxord was in the pirates world and why Vanitas was in Monstropolis, but Marluxia seemed like he was shoehorned into Corona solely because of the connection between the magic flower and his powers, which was stupid. And Larxene had zero connection to anything going on in Arendelle.

All the characters we’ve been waiting for (Ventus, Aqua, etc.) don’t appear until the very very end, which is a problem with the story pacing. They tease us, very early, with Riku and Mickey trying to find Aqua and then immediately drop that plot point to give us some empty Disney worlds. (Side note: this 100% tricked me into thinking we’d be switching back and forth between what Sora was up to and what Riku was up to and I was sorely disappointed as I played and realized it wasn’t true.) They dither in this “Sora needs the power of waking” to avoid giving us Ventus until the very end.

Just...the story pacing in general, which kind of ties into everything else. This game has a beginning, because it had to, and something they wanted to end with but they weren’t really sure how to fill the space in the middle. You spend most of the game just chilling in the Disney worlds with very low stakes. This big battle waiting at the end is always there in the background but, partially because the Disney worlds feel like distractions that don’t add to the story, the middle of the game never really feels like it’s building toward the ending, or anything. And then, when you do get through the Disney worlds, about 75% of the plot is thrown at you in the last hour or two of the game. It reminds me (a lot of this game reminds me, actually) of FFXV. I love FFXV dearly, I’ve poured A TON of hours into gathering ingredients and taking photos and doing side quests, but it has the same plot issue. The majority of FFXV is a light-hearted journey about four bros on a roadtrip, only for everything to take a VERY dramatic tonal shift about 3/4 of the way through the game and then stay very very SAD for the rest of the game. KH3 does something similar, with the way we spend most of the game traveling through Disney worlds and cooking food with Remy, only for the game to suddenly remember at the 11th hour that it’s supposed to be wrapping up this big 10+ year long story and thrust you into battle after battle and plot-heavy cutscene after plot-heavy cutscene.

To the pacing point: yes, I’m aware these games have always had slightly funny/back-loaded pacing. However, a main thing the other games had that KH3 lacks is that Radiant Garden/Twilight Town/Traverse Town interlude world that helps push the plot along. Without that in KH3, we get a ton of long Disney worlds where we’re like “when is the story going to happen?” and then the Keyblade Graveyard where suddenly ALL of the story is happening. Previous games have let us experience the Disney worlds for awhile before bringing us to an interlude world which furthers the plot, a la the big Radiant Garden section in KH2 that happens midway through the game.

Anyway, I think Kingdom Hearts 3 was a gorgeous game, graphics-wise, and I’ll still be shelling out money for Re:Mind come January, but after waiting for 14 years for a continuation of the main story line, this game just feels like, after everything, Nomura still wasn’t sure how to end it? It feels rushed and underwhelming and incomplete as hell.

TL;DR: I have all these thoughts about KH3 that I’ve waited 11 months to express.

#kingdom hearts #kingdom hearts 3 #kh3 #kh3 remind #sora #riku #bad plot pacing galore #rant #review #tldr #kh #kingdom hearts 2 #this is like almost a year late #i've had a lot of time to think about how underwhelmed i was

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emotionalcello-makefanfics · 4 years

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Summary :

The awkward flirting ensues on their second date. Served with a pinch of angsty heart to heart and a non-graphic spicy scene to keep it PG.

Sequel to Aaron is a Cute Name

Sequel to this Not Now, But Someday

Click title to read on ao3. Click keep reading to read on tumblr~

Words : 10k

Do you want to go on a date this weekend?

Chris dropped his phone to his marble floor. Almost dropping his chia bowl to join it.

Then he screamed. High-pitched and throaty like a pterodactyl. No, not because he just dropped his brand new Apple phone, but because Aaron just asked him on a date just two days after their first date.

Chris is still reeling at the feeling of his cute first initiation of a kiss, and now he’s asking him on a date? How bold! And so eager, this man either interested or literally going after his life. Dare he says that Aaron also likes him too?

“Oh my god oh my god oh my god,” Chris chanted as he bends down to grab his phone and stare at his message.

There’s no way he’s replying now, not when he’s aware that he’s generating big dumb energy. Dumb shit happens when he’s on dumb bitch mode, and he needs to direct this energy to the same associate.

‘I just got a text back from the cute agent he’s asking for a second date this weekend ajsnhacdk’

Perfect. Send.

‘Haily’ glares on the screen, an incoming call.

“BIIIIIIITCH WHAT?” the woman screamed, thankfully, Chris already hangs his phone farther from his ear as he picks it up.

“I know!” Chris replied with the same excitement.

“Wow, Chris. Years I’ve been your partner and you never got any hot action, and now I’m on a honeymoon I’m missing everything!... No, honey, it’s Chris... He just hooked up with a guy!... Yeah I know right?” faintly Chris can hear Jim, Haily’s newlywed husband, congratulate him.

“Wait wait wait whoa, I’m not hooking up with him!” Chris cleared, “We’re just going on dates I guess, and I’m his first guy, so like... I’m taking it slow with him.”

“But he kissed you first right?”

“K-Kinda, he initiates and I gave the final push.”

“Okay? Just be careful with the bicurious alright? We all know and experienced what happened with my 2013 incident.”

Chris shivers, “Yeah, no need to tell me twice.” Chris looks down to his feet, covered with deep blue and black-tipped socks. There are a few drops of milk on his shirt making him groan internally, he’ll need to change before he goes to work.

“What’s wrong, Chrissy?” Haily asked after a long pause.

“I really like him, Hay. I don’t know... I just feel like... you know? Really really like him. Am I losing my marbles or what's going on?”

“You’re just whipped, dude.”

“Oh no, already?”

“You know I’m on your side, right?” Haily points out, “I was there when you gone in and out of love with everyone across the board. This is the first time you’re this excited over a date, and you know I’m happy for you! Like fucking finally!”

“I know.”

“If this one last, you better introduce me to him. He’ll gonna need my stamp of approval before he gets to marry you.”

“Yeah duh, Jim had mine, of course, I need your stamp, it’s only the law.” Chris looks at his wrist. Well shit, he’s not gonna be able to change his shirt.

“Gotta go Hay, love you doll! Have a great honeymoon!”

“I’ll see you Monday baby!”

Chris put his phone on his pocket and bolt with his bowl because he’s not gonna waste expensive organic chia seeds, completely forgetting that he left Aaron on read.

++++++

Chris left him on read for 8 hours now, and Aaron tried to not think about it too much. Keyword: tried to.

It doesn’t help that he’s not on any case for the rest of the week, so he’s been writing reports all day. He caught himself spacing out instead of his papers for a number of times he’s not proud of. It’s not his age to feel this bothered over someone leaving him on read. There must be a logical reason why Chris does so.

Their first date goes well. There’s nothing to worry about. Chris will reply sooner or later. If he’s interested in a second date, they’ll go. If Chris is not interested, then they’ll go on with their lives. Like a hook tugging in, Aaron noticed reeling in that there’s a possibility of disinterest on Chris’ behalf.

In that split moment, he felt his age, job, and life on the scale of consideration.

“You’ve been staring at that page for 10 minutes,” A comment of Reid Spencer delivered by Derek Morgan. The agent stood by the door frame with a worried look on his face.

“It’s nothing,” Hotch dismissed.

“Last time you said that you collapsed with your stab wound reopened.”

It was a habit to dismiss his condition, but this matter really is just... petty and nothing.

“It’s about Chris.”

Morgan knits his arched eyebrows, “What about him?” His voice stern and defending.

Though Hotch feels flattered by his intention to protect him –and he’s not the only one to do so– they really shouldn’t be this worried over him. Well, if that’s so, then Hotch shouldn’t be this worried over a read message.

“I just asked him on another date, and he left me on read. Really it’s nothi-”

“Pfft,” Morgan held his laugh with lips pressed tight and curled. Hotch glares at Morgan who’s having a hard time holding back his laugh.

“No need to rub salt on my wound Morgan.”

“I’m sorry I’m sorry, okay it’s all valid and all, I just don’t expect you to do that too.” Morgan walks in and sits across Hotch’s desk.

“I didn’t tell you to sit.”

“Okay, first of all,” Morgan started, ignoring his boss, “It’s normal to feel restless over these things.”

“I know, Morgan.”

“Especially since he’s your first guy.”

“How do you even know that?”

“It shows, man,” Morgan shrugged, “I’m here if you wanna ask about that stuff, ya know?”

“Was Reid your first too?”

“Nah, I was Reid’s.”

“I see.”

“So I can tell you about Chris’s perspective.”

“That’s... actually could be helpful.” Hotch doesn’t believe he’s saying that too, and how Morgan is offering it. He doesn’t know why he’s so nervous with Chris. He didn’t feel like this with Beth. “I don’t want to screw this one up, Morgan,” He found himself saying.

It caught the agent off guard. The weight of Hotch’s words settles down on him, and gone were his playful bearings. Both of them have been a team for years. Morgan, along with a few people that still stay on the team, has been there with him through all his relationships. The beautiful start and how it ends.

How it all always ends.

“Okay, layin’ it a bit too heavy on the first swing there uh, what else does he make you feel?”

Hotch takes in a deep breath, “It just feels so easy. He’s not pushing me, I’m the one that pushes. I’m free-falling, and I’m enjoying it...”

“And it scares you that you feel that way?” Morgan completed. The perk of having profiler friends, they know.

He nods, solemnly, looking down at his clasped hands on top of his last report of the day.

“Wow, all of that after one date?” Morgan flashes his playful smirk.

“I don’t know why either.” Hotch smiles back, just as pleasantly surprised as Morgan does.

“Look man, don’t worry too much. Let yourself be happy and not worry about the what if’s. He seems like a good guy, fun too. If you like him then I trust your judgment of him.”

“Thank you, he is the type of person that balances me. I surprise myself how much I look forward to seeing him again, but there is a possibility that... he might not want to see me again.”

“Oh c’mon, you don’t know that.”

“Just a possibility Derek.”

“Well, if it doesn’t work, it doesn’t, you move on.”

“Yes, but I want it to work.”

Morgan raises his eyebrows, mouth agape, “Wow, Hotch... I need to meet the guy who made you his whipped.”

Just as Hotch about to ask what ‘whipped’ means, his phone vibrates. Like on cue, Kristianto Hamlyn glares across Hotch’s phone. Hotch raises his phone and gives a look to Morgan, who understands and leaves with a knowing smile.

“Aaron Ho-”

“I’m so sorry!” Chris’s voice almost deafens Hotch’s right ear. “I saw your message today, and I was... I...um... wait.” Chris cleared his throat. “It caught me off guard and I tucked my phone in because I was late for work,” his voice sounded calmer and stoic, like reading a script.

“Really?” Hotch teased, knowing that’s not the full story.

“Yeah, totally, haha,” Hotch can imagine the detective on his desk with a shy expression on his face, looking down at messy paperwork rowed and stacked there, just like what he’s doing now. “So, this weekend huh?”

“Are you available?”

“Totally! I wanna go to your town!”

“Sure, I’ll show you around this time, any preference?”

Chris paused for a few seconds, then said softly, “I don’t really have any, as long as you’re the one showing me around.” Chris cleared his throat again, “Um, and good food.”

“My yelp game is not as strong as you, but I do know my way around.”

“Oh god, that’s so... that’s so out of character of you! I wish I get to see your face saying ‘yelp game’,” Chris laughed heartily, and Hotch wished he’s there to see Chris does so.

+++++

Date day. Chris has so many things to wear but he none to choose from. It’s edging to fall, so he covers his salmon shirt with a maroon leather jacket and compliment the look with dark jeans and boots. He looks like a biker, a bad boy, the type of rebels that he arrested. He rocked the look, as quoted from Haily. He couldn’t even ride a bicycle. A shame that he’ll never tell anyone beside Haily.

His fingers feel kind of... vibrating? Just like when it’s 9 pm and he’s on his 5 th cup of coffee.

Just a date.

It’s just a date.

Like, whatever, right?

Chris would’ve laughed at himself if he’s not frozen over at the sight of Aaron, standing by the entrance of the cultural market in casual wear. The shirt he wears isn’t sinfully tight, but it complements the outline of his body, broad, sturdy, kinda like a brick and tall. Though he knows that they’re roughly the same height, but that and a tall impression left a different feel to it. He lowly hums at the sight of those legs wrapped in slim-fit dark blue trousers, topped with a leather belt and black oxfords. Light olive shirt tucked into the pants doing his body the justice it deserves. For extra damage, Aaron rolled the sleeves to his elbows.

Chris loved Aaron is his clean-cut suits, but now he hated what those suit had deprived him of.

“Hello? I don’t mind the stare but, I’m more than just a pretty face to admire on.” Aaron is looking at him, holding back a smile, and Chris felt embarrassed for staring at him from 10 meters away.

“Someone’s been practicing their lines!” Chris approaches meekly with a nervous laugh. What is he doing? He’s cooler than this, c’mon. He straightened his back, and flash his smooth playboy smile. “You just look really good.” Nice. He pats himself in the back for that one.

“You too,” Aaron says back.

“Seems fun in there,” Chris noted, looking behind Aaron. It’s a parking lot for the stadium looming over this area filled with street vendors, art vendors, food and random knick-knacks. They’re standing a bit further from the entrance but Chris can smell some hearty delicious curry and the beast inside his stomach roared.

“They’re here every weekend, I figured you like things like this.”

“Oooh, did it came with your profile?”

Aaron kind of leans back. Kind of. Everything Aaron does is always done subtlety and elegance like he’s controlling his reaction, so Chris has to look closely.

“It’s a guess,” Aaron shrugged, looking like he had done something wrong.

“Oh, c’mon I want to know what your profile says about me!”

“You sure? Some people might think it’s invading their space.”

“I can see why, but I dunno, you guys are like psychics to me. It’s cool! Like a Buzzfeed quiz telling me my mental state of mind by my choice of shampoo... or something like that.”

Aaron chuckled, oh, Chris is never getting tired of that. “We’ve been called a lot of names, but this is the first time someone compared us to a personality quiz.”

Chris wonders how long will it be until he’s immune to Aaron’s laughs. But now he enjoys it fully with all the butterflies and the blushing.

They walk around the market. First stop, lunch. They eat chicken green curry standing up beside the truck. They look at art vendors varying from paintings, pots and little miniatures. Then buying little snacks as they walk and talk and look around. Once or twice Chris would get distracted at cool pretty things and comment on it. Some vendors would greet Aaron, he said that he frequents coming here in the morning for groceries.

They were walking peacefully, still edging away from personal topics, until... a cat sculpture caught Chris’ eyes.

“Stop.” Chris holds out his hand in front of Aaron and thankfully the agent stops abruptly without spilling his ice cream.

“What’s wrong?”

“I have to have that!” Chris says a little louder than average. Even the artist that sits behind the tables full of her works is startled when Chris points at the cat.

After downing the last of his boysenberry milkshake, Chris runs to the vendor and crouches down to look at the cat sculpture closer. It’s made of clay. Shaped like a fat and amazingly smooth upside-down egg with two triangles on the top as ears. An absolute unit. It’s painted as a black cat with neon yellow eyes. White painted on the tips on its ears and the tail’s tip on the back. And the expression, so smug and all-mighty. Even though the cat is below him and only as long as his forearms, the expression painted on the cat’s face is the look of God looking down on humanity’s downfall like Jersey Shore while eating popcorn.

Chris has to have it.

“Good day mam! Is this your work?” Chris says with wide and suspiciously excited eyes. But in the interest of her work, the artist glows in the same excitement.

“Why yes!”

“Then take my money!”

And took it she did.

Near the end of the day, they settle on the park bench eating more snacks as the sky dims with the sun on the way setting.

“You were really excited about the clay cat,” Aaron noted, biting into his second taco.

There’s burrito filling on his cheeks, preventing Chris from speaking. He chews faster to reply, “It looked like my... uh, my foster dad’s cat.”

“Oh, you’re a foster?”

“Yup, I’ve been in and out of foster homes since I was young, I think.”

“You think?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Hm, did you ever get adopted?” Aaron thread lightly.

“Nope. The last place I live in before taken by my foster dad was kind of fucked up. I was seventeen when the police bust the church, and I was taken in by one of the officers. His name’s Matty, Matty Matheson. Man, what a guy he was.” Chris prayed to the darkening light gray-blue sky.

“He’s such a blast. Thought me how to cook, how to be carefree and just enjoy life, you know? Despite everything.” Chris stops there, he’s not ready for the rest, and Aaron blissfully doesn’t press on. Aaron doesn’t express any distinctive emotions, but his eyes are on Chris, focused, yet has no pressure.

“I wasn’t his only rescue.” Chris continued, “He had Rosco when I came. A black cat with white tips,” Chris pats on the cat statue wrapped in a box and brown bag between them.

“Must’ve been a good cat.”

“Oh, no. She was a bitch. She would hiss even when I look at her. Then she had the audacity to zoom onto my path and hissed when I accidentally touched her!” Chris corrected and saw how Aaron paused unsurely. “But I remembered when she acted sweet one day. I was still in my early years of living with Matty and I was crying myself to sleep pretty regularly. Usually, Matty could cheer me up instantly but he was on night shift that day. She then crawled up to my bed and sleep on my foot. Don’t know why she did that but, since then she always sleeps by the foot of the bed. Doesn’t change the fact that she’s entitled though, she would bite me when I accidentally kick her in my sleep.”

“Do you think she knows that you need her?”

“Hm, I don’t know, cats are weird.”

“Wouldn’t have known, I’ve only had dogs.”

“Dang, I’ve wanted a dog once too. Do you have one?” Chris wished Aaron say yes just so he can demand dog pics next.

“I can’t. I’m away a lot. Sometimes I need to be ready in an hour to fly over for a case.” There’s a defeated look in Aaron’s expression, but he still smiles that soft little boat like curve.

“Aw, that sucks.”

“What about you? Do you have a cat?

“Kind of, but I would feel guilty of leaving a cat at home so much. Maybe when I retire.”

“Hm, that’s a nice plan.”

Then they take a breather, pausing comfortably as they look around. The park lights are on even though there’s still light left on the darkening sky. Chris got here at 1 PM, he checked his watch and isn’t really surprised that it’s a little bit past 5 pm. Closing the end of the year, daylight is shorter. Now that he’s thinking of the end of the year...

“Hey, Aaron?”

“Yes?”

“You have plans for Thanksgiving? Going back to your folk’s place?” Chris baited, hopeful that he didn’t step on his toe.

“I don’t have a lot of immediate families and I’m not really close with my extended family. My parents died a long time ago, so I only have a brother now and again, not close. The last time I spent it with my family was when I was still married, so... around 5 years ago.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“It’s okay, it’s not a delicate subject. What about you?”

Well, it’s delicate for Chris, but Aaron opened up, it’s only fair that he does the same. “Got no folks left to eat dinner with.” He shrugged, a fact too old for him to be bothered to say, but he can see how Aaron’s expression shift to gloom. “Matty died in the field seven years after he takes me in. Since then I’ve been having thanksgiving with my partner, Haily. But she got married recently, so I bet she’ll have them at her in-laws. There’s always the office Thanksgiving dinner.”

“I have one too,” Aaron said. “If things turn to worse and we found ourselves alone in the holidays, we can always spend it together.”

only on their second date and Chris already got an invitation to spend the holidays together? Like whoa, hold up Lightning McQueen. Of course, Chris wants to, but hopefully, that’s not moving too fast, certainly not for Chris. And since Aaron is the one that suggested it, must’ve been a comfortable pace for him too, still...

“It’s only our second date, you really sure you want to spend your precious holidays with me?” Chris teased, hoping he’s not shooting himself on the dick.

“It’s only fair to spend my precious holidays with someone precious.”

If his heart can audibly scream, he would’ve deafened everyone at a two-block radius. Aaron just teased him back, and the audacity of that smirk!

“I see someone had practiced his lines, enough to earn a blush outta me,” Chris fights back, leaning closer till their shoulder touched.

“I had a great example,” Aaron looks deeply into Chris. He forgot how pretty Aaron’s eyes are, how dare he? “From this little cutie with deep blue eyes and shiny chocolate hair.”

Chris is destroyed by ‘little cutie’, “Aaaah! You win!” Chris leans back, covering his flushed face while Aaron laughed. The laugh that ended Chris once and for all.

How will he survive a relationship with this man?

Wait, will they be an item?

Suddenly, two dates are a date too many.

Chris is filled with the urge of not wanting to go home, but he knows he has to. They spent a half day together and it’s been fun and exciting even though he has to admit, Chris does most of the talking just because he generally talks a lot. Aaron seems to be having fun too. They opened up a little today, that’s a bonus.

Chris counts today’s date as a win.

They walk together to the subway and waits for Chris’s train.

“Have any plan for our third date?” Aaron asked, and Chris is way ahead of him.

“Oh, you bet I do. This time, I’m taking you where I think you’ll like.”

“Really? Did you profile me?” Aaron asked, amused.

“I have a few tricks up my sleeve, just you wait.”

“I hope it’s nothing reserved. I wouldn’t want to have to cancel you last minute because of a case.”

“... welp, plan b!”

“I’m really sorry.”

“I’m kidding!” Chris exclaimed, bumping his shoulder with Aaron’s. He’s been doing that a lot today, he needs to stop. “C’mon, don’t be sorry for doing your job. What you do is awesome!” and dangerous, the kind that reduces your life at every brush of death. He red David Rossi’s book, and man, if that’s what Aaron is really going through for every mission, he wouldn’t sleep a wink.

But hey, what can you do? Aaron gotta do what Hotch gotta do.

“You wouldn’t be saying that after I cancel on our date 5 times in a row over a case. Today we’re just unbelievably lucky.”

“Hey, I think you’re just overestimating that,” Chris scoots closer and bumps his shoulder against Aaron’s, purposely this time. “We’ll see where this goes together.”

Aaron passed him a thankful smile as he returns the gesture, bumping up his heartbeat. “I have a lot of fun today,” he said with dark eyes looking up from the subway’s grimy tiles.

Chris tightened his hold on the cat sculpture on his arms, “Same here.”

A voice-over breaks their zone and a train passes through the tunnel, bringing the wind with it. Chris looks to the side where Aaron squints his eyes and hair blown slightly. Yup, he’s so dead.

“This is me,” Chris cocks his head to the slowed-down train in front of them, “Um, goodnight.”

Aaron steps forward and Chris hits the breakfast. An arm nest softly on Chris’ waist as Aaron leans in. Chris doesn’t give the last push this time, and Aaron lands his lips softly on top of his. In the languid paced movement, everything else seems to blur. Their body awkwardly apart, blocked by the clay cat between them. Chris takes a hand off the statue and put it on the back of Aaron’s neck, grazing the skin at the nape. When he breathes in, he smelt the salsa they ate with and the hint of woody perfume.

Who knows who leans back first, but when they did, the playful air they had is gone. Like realizing that they’ve stepped into a territory with a big red sign on the outside.

“You’re going to be the death of me, Aaron Hotchner,” Chris said in lieu of the state he’s in.

“I hope that’s not true, you promised me a date.” Aaron just chuckled and slid his hands off his back, “Go before you miss the train.”

Chris steps into the train reluctantly, waving to Aaron who still ever so sweetly smiles.

+++++

Aaron was not kidding about canceling their dates 5 times. They’ve planned a lot to meet up and Aaron has been canceling on him five times in a row in addition to Chris canceling on him once because he’s assigned on night watch. Chris wasn’t upset about it, though it’s sad that it’s so hard to meet him, it was at a point where it’s kind of entertaining. ‘Now I get to know what Lois Lane felt,’ he teased one day hoping it would make Aaron sound less sorry. It didn’t work, yet Chris tried anyway. ‘I’ll wait till the end of time, my dear.’ ‘Oh, those sickos, taking you away from me.’ ‘It’s okay, send me his face with my name carved on his face. Stay safe!’ The last one is super cringy and a failed attempt on his take of an Addams Family AU.

In return, they talked a lot on the phone, every time that they can spare. Aaron will call after he finished his case, and Chris would call whenever he misses him. Aaron can always reach him, but Chris can only be so lucky if the end of the call gets through.

It’s not until two months after their second date that they meet again. Now, they’re sitting on the bench right outside the emergency room, shoulder to shoulder. The waiting hall is quiet at 1 am, and the only other people waiting there is an elderly couple at the other end of the hall.

“So, there I was, reduced down to my flower boxers, modeling for a bunch of 70-year-olds that attempted to draw a semi-nude picture of me. When nurse Abigail came, I thought for sure she would put a stop to those cheeky seniors, but she just stood and enjoy the view too! The only light of this is one of the seniors was legit good at drawing and he gave the picture to me.”

Hotch rubbed his face, the corner of his lips peeking from his hand as his chest shakes. If they’re not in a hospital right now, he bet Hotch would’ve laughed louder.

“What other hobbies you hide from me besides intervening on seniors’ home gathering .”

“Excuse me, it was a volunteering gig, and it’s fun.” Chris huffed playfully, “They’re all really nice, it’s like having dozens of doting grandparents, and now I can knit.”

“I’m not surprised.” Aaron finally cheered up.

When Chris got the call, he rushed here even though he was just getting ready for bed. Hotch was in the middle of assisting the police to hunt a serial arsonist when his friend, and Chris’ idol, Rossi is shot on his stomach. It was supposedly a small case, so only Rossi and he was handling it. The rest of his team is on the other end of the US, all the way to Sacramento for another case. Aaron called just to have someone to talk to, or so he said. There was an argument when Chris insisted that it’s okay for him to come over. Yet when he arrived, Aaron greeted him with a silent hug and they talked about anything else.

All they can do now is wait while Rossi is in the ER.

It was concerning yet endearing to get a call from Aaron when he’s still Hotch. His team is like family, and Aaron is alone, waiting for a life and death procedure of what an equivalent as the eccentric sketchy yet suspiciously rich Italian Uncle.

“What made you want to pursue this career, Chris?” Hotch asked out of the blue.

“A detective?”

��Mhm.”

“Well, Matty did. I was a teen when Matty takes me in, but he inspires me a great deal. They said the job wears you down, that you’ll see the world and all the ugly behind the crime and feel like nothing will change. Never Matty. He stays positive even though he’s on the job for 30 years. The way he sees the world was beautiful and new to me, and since him, I don’t want to look at the world like how I did ever again. And I was pretty weak when I was a kid, so I want to become stronger and be in a power that can protect people. Because I can see what the police failed to see when I needed them then.”

It’s a good feeling to remember that better part down the memory lane. Whatever that had happened had led him to here. To meet Matty, Haily, and then Aaron.

Fingers laced between his and grips tight, “I’m glad you met him. I hoped I had the chance to meet him.”

Chris clasp his hand back, squeezing just as tight. His cheeks start to tingle, he just hoped it doesn’t show.

“Me too.” Chris looks away when he sees Aaron with his cheeky smile and the lights showing the deep olive hue in his eyes. “I’m hungry, you’ve eaten yet?”

“Not dinner.”

“I’ll get us some protein bars, and a warm coffee?”

“Yes please.”

Chris brought back 4 granola bars from the vending machine and two paper cups of warm watery coffee. Both of them groaned simultaneously at the horrible taste then chuckled. They chatted some more until Hotch starting to look sleepy by the look of his heavy eyelids trying so hard to open.

“You should go home, Chris.”

“No, I’ll accompany you until the doctor’s back.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to,” because Chris is worried. When he came, Hotch looks deathly worried, even now he looked paler than usual, which already look vampire pale in general. “You guys are so solid, you know that?” Chris stated out of the blue. “Even I feel it when you guys were back in DC. You got a dynamic like family on a mission.”

“That’s one way to put...” Hotch yawns, “...to put it.” Then he puts down his empty paper cup on the feet of the benches. Even after coffee, Hotch still lulls his head.

“Want to lay down?” Chris pats his shoulder, feeling a little bolder.

“Thank you,” he said, it got Chris thinking it’s a ‘no thank you’, but then, Hotch scoots a little and lay his head on Chris’s shoulder. He smells like an antiseptic soap, mint, sweat and somehow, gun powder. The weight of his head feels like a cat resting there, and his hair feels like prickly grass.

He’s so glad he wears his cushiony leather jacket today.

“Chris?” Hotch called, and he hums in reply, “Have you ever feel lonely in your own home?”

His breath stops for a split second. Maybe that’s why Hotch is here, he thought. With a feeling of melancholy, he leans his head on top of Aaron’s, hoping he’ll provide more comfort.

“Why do you think I spent my weekends volunteering in a senior home? If I’m lucky, some of them would think I’m their grandson, and I felt like I have a family. Even though the next time I cam there, most of them forgot about me.” Chris sighed a shuddering breath. He never admits that to anyone.

He’s bright, confident, and optimistic, it’s his brand. To gloom over it is not him, and telling it to Hotch who he only knows for two months is even so.

Aaron reaches for his hand and laces them together again, holding tightly as he buries his face even deeper to the crook of Chris’ neck.

Either Hotch is drowsy or he’s messing with him right now. Either way, Chris gladly slide his hands and intertwined his fingers with Hotch’s.

“My ex-wife and son were killed a few years ago.”

Chris choked on his own saliva, “Ack, oh... Oh my God.”

The Hotch has the audacity to chuckle, “I knew you’d react that way.”

“React what way? That’s... that’s awful Aaron, I-” Chrish is cut short by his sudden sob. He leans back and breathes in like he always does when he’s overwhelmed, and tried to calm down. Aaron needs him now.

“It’s a long time ago.”

“Does time even matter for things like that?” Chris cleared his throat and breathes out, “It doesn’t go away. They’re either pushed away or they don’t age well.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Trauma.”

Aaron hums, “Are you speaking from experience?”

The question hits like a deadly jab, yet at the same time, Chris expected it. “Yes.”

“Then you’re right. It doesn’t age well. I was so used to calling home to talk to my son, on every different occasion. I was always busy, and my ex-wife got custody so he’s always with her. I always call after he’s on recitals, camp, holidays when I couldn’t see him, or even homework. Picking him up on the weekends are the things I looked forward to, then suddenly, I don’t have that anymore. I’ve been coming back to a quiet home for years, until you.”

“Until me, huh.”

It’s not his story yet it hurts to hear. Hurts to know how much he must’ve hurt. The only thing he could be happy about is how Aaron talks about it calmly like he had made peace with it.

Chris holds on to Hotch’s hand tighter, pressing his face on top of Hotch’s head and hide in his raven black hair.

Soon, Hotch fell asleep on his shoulder while Chris stays up and wait for the doctor to come out of the ER.

+++++

It was almost midnight when Hotch finally finished with his reports and heads home. As he just makes himself comfortable in his car, his private phone rings. Chris.

“Hi.”

“Hey, hot stuff.” Chris doesn’t sound so hot.

“How are you?”

“A-okay, I just wanna hear your voice.”

“Chris.”

A pause. Seconds ticks away. Then a defeated sigh.

“I swear it’s nothing. I’m just... it’s just uh, I just want to talk.”

“What is it?” Aaron leans back on his seat, “Nothing’s too minor, you told me that.”

“Pulling a reverse card like that is not fair,” so he said, yet with an amused tone in his voice.

“I got no card left on my hand.”

Chris sighed, “I get like this sometimes.”

“Like what?”

“Like I don’t belong in my own home, in my own skin, you know?” It’s the first time that Chris sounded vulnerable, troubled. Aaron never hears him like this, yet it’s not surprising or completely foreign.

With a tightened squeeze on his phone, Aaron says, “I know exactly what you mean.”

“Oh...” Chris paused. “I’m sorry. It feels terrible.”

“It is.” Aaron mused, then smiled as he popped an idea, "Want me to come over?”

“W-Wh... Wait, um... really?” it’s the highest tone Chris hits so far. “I, Yeah! But you just got back.”

“I got my go-bag, I’m ready to sleepover at your place.”

“Wait... you’re sleeping over?!”

“Unless you don’t want me-”

“I want to! I’ll send you the location but I have to tidy up now okay bye babe.” Then Chris hangs up abruptly.

Aaron mouthed with a smile, “Babe?”

.-.-.-.-.

“Hi babe,” Aaron leers as soon as the door is open. Chris immediately groans with a furious blush on his face.

“It slipped okay?” Chris steps sideways to let Aaron in.

“Didn’t say I’m complaining.”

Chris lives in a fairly good apartment complex. Complete with security measures such as a guard and CCTV. Hotch doesn’t know what to expect when he finally comes into Chris’s living space. The walls have a lot of photos of him with different types of social groups. He recognizes one when Chris is younger in the academy uniform, others with seniors from which he volunteered and some with his work associates. A small bookcase at the end of the room filled with books. The open kitchen is on the left, through the sofa and TV, and fairly decorated with various utensils, which means that Chris cooks at least.

The bedroom located pass the kitchen. There’s a blanket on the sofa, which means that Chris spends more time there. On top of the coffee table in front of it, rest a wine glass, a coffee cup, and the cat sculpture. In front of the cat with a condescending look, sit a framed photo of Chris in his teens and a big framed man in a police uniform, must be Matty.

“So, this is your place after you clean it?” Aaron dropped his bag beside the couch.

“Actually, I gave up halfway.”

“It’s not as bad as you said.” After looking around, he noticed Chris bending down to get his bag. “Where are you taking my bag?”

“To my room.”

Aaron smirk, recognizing his chance to tease Chris, “If you want me in your bed so badly why don’t you say just say so,” Aaron knows it’s not what Chris meant, but he can’t help it, especially how Chris would go red in an instant.

“Aaron you need to stop! You’re getting dangerously way better than me at this.”

“Why thank you,” Aaron leans in to take his bag away and slip a kiss on the corner of his mouth before dropping his bag beside Chris’ bed. “Unless you don’t want me here-”

“I do!” Chris blurted out. Aaron knocked back his head and laugh as he drops his butt on the soft mattress that bounces him lightly.

“How are you so calm?” Chris finally whispered. “You must’ve seen how I’m literally gulping down my thirst and I’m holding back...”

“Why would you hold back?”

“Because I... well, I want you, but I know it’s your first and I know I have to get into this with communication before and I go into this with you and there are like a few things you need to know and I have to prepare and I haven’t even choose the words yet and I-”

“Chris,” Aaron called when he doesn’t hear him takes a breath.

“Really just want to touch you all over and have my way with you because here you are like right in front of me looking all delicious and hot and literally the embodiment of my wet dream for the past weeks but I know we need to do it slowly and even I can’t survive if we don’t do it slowly and I just feel like I’m spilling on the edge because I miss you we rarely see each other and to finally see you I just wanna-”

“Chris,” Aaron grabbed Chris’ hand and pull slightly. “I know. I missed you too.”

Chris sucked in a breath, eyes wide at Aaron who sits on his bed as if he belonged there. No, this was not Aaron’s intention when he wants to come over, but the thought is intriguing no?

In all relationships before this one, Aaron always played the role Chris is doing now. The patient one, the waiting one, the understanding one, the leading one, the one that gives his partner the ‘go’. Now he’s on the other side of the role, and so far, he’s enjoying it.

Aaron takes off his suit.

“Oh my god, it’s happening!” Chris curled his shoulders in as if to hide, but his eyes wide open.

Aaron chuckled, “You say that as if you don’t want to see me naked.”

“I do!” Chris lands his hand on Aaron’s shoulder so abruptly that he stopped halfway of taking his tie off. “Wait, yeah, I mean... Look,” Chris kneels on the floor, grabbing both of his hands. For once Aaron doesn’t understand why Chris does the things he did.

“I...” Chris trails to a pause. In real-time, Aaron can see how the thousands of Chris’ thoughts drained down into one state of panic, “I’m nervous,” The detective finally says. No childish quirks, just a man, truly afraid.

“You think I’m not?” Aaron cups Chris's distressed face with both his hand on each side. “But I feel safe with you. Just knowing that you worry means a lot to me.”

“I... don’t understand. I’m a mess, I’m afraid that I fuck things up and... and... I just want this to feel good for you too.” Chris just explained what Aaron meant without him realizing it. A person so sweet that it made the back of his throat gulps and his mouth salivate. To his absolute surprise, he felt the smooth alcohol like a burn inside him as he looks at Chris kneeling with hands on his thighs. Those deep blue eyes look so innocent and kind as they look up to him. What a pleasant new-found feeling.

“In my previous relationships, I’m always the one leaned on, not that I mind, just wanted to say that I’ve felt the pressure you’re feeling. When you worry, I know you’ll be careful with me, I feel like I could lean on you. It’s going to be okay.”

Chris blinks, eyebrows knit together, “Of course you can, were you not able to do that before?”

Of course, he does... Wait, does he? He opens his mouth, yet his mind draws a blank.

“Oh, my pretty baby,” Chris coos, slipping his hands on Aaron’s waist and kiss him on the lips.

Aaron kisses him back, pressing his face to his as he closes his eyes. “If you want me, don’t hesitate, just...”

“Slowly?”

“Please.”

The kiss starts chaste, like their first kiss. Hotch doesn’t realize how touch starved he was until now that’s touched with hands that eagerly wants him. He has his experiences with women, but the women that made him feel like this with a kiss, was married to him, and the other dated him briefly. Strong and steady arms loop on his back and hold him tight as the man that owns them kisses him deeper. His own hands grab onto his shoulder while the other raking Chris’ brunette hair with his fingers and pulls him even closer.

The air intake in between kept short and efficient. They paced up their movement with no hurry, with Chris’ hands on his back, he slowly descends him on the mattress. A heavier weight on top of him surprisingly serves comfort at how it grounds him. Thick pair of legs snug between his, grinding teasingly slow. Chris smells of his lemongrass shampoo and his favorite lavender lush soap bar, and Aaron takes in a deep breath of that mixed with his own scent. Soft pulses beat against his hammering heart, pressing generously heavy.

Every subtle movement, even the gentlest made itself known prominently on each other’s senses. The hands cupping Chris’ face trails down to his chest, playing with the contour of his body. Chris’ arms slip away from Hotch’s back and slither down to pull the shirt tucked in his belted hips.

The one carrying the current is Chris, and Aaron is blissfully riding along like a leaf on the mercy of the water stream. It’s a self-surrender that Aaron never felt before. To receive instead of giving. To follow instead of leading. To surrender to another’s arm instead of holding onto them in his.

Whatever playful intention Aaron had –because he was here to cheer Chris up originally- had gone with the lul of this moment.

That is, until a hand slithers under his shirt. Aaron tensed and hold Chris’s hands from moving any more.

“Sorry,” Chris breathed. Thankfully, he doesn’t sound too troubled by Aaron’s sudden stop. “We don’t need to go more than this if you don’t want to.” Whatever expression he wears that made Chris said that he doesn’t like it.

“It’s not that.” Aaron gulps. It’s inevitable anyway, he’ll have to show it sooner or later, Now is a good enough time as any.

Aaron unbuttoned his shirt, wanting to look away from Chris anxious eyes but he doesn’t, for Chris. He knows the scars won’t turn Chris off, but Chris has the tendency to feel strongly to these things despite him trying not to show it on his face, but that’s not what he’s worried about. What worries Aaron was, well, himself. It’s a scar that still feels raw and open.

For every button he undid, a puzzle piece fits in the picture. Then when all the pieces are there, Chris gapes, breathless. Aaron could feel his pained eyes looking at each of the nine stab wounds on his torso.

“Oh... Aaron,” Chris whimpered, that alone makes up for Aaron’s curiosity. Hands travel upon his sides peering in yet never too far, careful not to touch the white lines across his abdomen and chest that were once stab wounds. “I... you don’t have to ever tell me about it... I just... I’m so...”

“I’ll tell you, Chris, maybe not now.”

Chris leans down his temple against Aaron’s collarbone, damp and warm with sweat that was building up. “Does it still hurt you?”

“It’s an old scar, it had healed completely.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

Aaron knows. He places his hand at Chris’s trimmed nape, raking his fingers across the prickly short half of his hair and sigh.

“Sometimes.”

Chris hums in reply, placing a kiss on his collarbone as a start, and slowly trails lower. Aaron unclenches his hand and lets Chris go wherever.

“Can I touch them?” Chris asked in a treading whisper. Aaron can feel his question against his skin, sending wavelength of warmth to his chest. No one had asked permission before, but most of them pretend it’s not there, and Aaron was okay with that. Chris is different. Everything he’s done with Chris has all been different. Yet every new territory he stepped in with Chris has been a fulfilling one.

“Yes.”

The kisses trails lower then it landed on the first keloid scar. Then to another one, then another. When Chris reaches for the scar in the abdomen, Aaron gasped slightly at the heightened feeling. Both his fist balled, pulling the sheets slightly.

“If I’m doing something you didn’t want,” Chris said, “Promise that you’ll tell me.”

“I... I promise,” Aaron whispered between the breath.

Chris kisses the last and furthest down scar while he unbuckles Aaron’s belt.

+++++

“His name is Foyet,” Aaron admits to the ceiling. Chris froze on the bathroom’s door frame with freshly brushed teeth wearing nothing but the famous flower boxer.

“Wait, we’re doing this now?” Chris hurries over Aaron’s side and lands his butt on the edge of the bed on his side, bouncing Aaron along. “You don’t have to tell me if it brings back memories.”

The tight grip on his hand made him look at Chris, really look at him. The fear, concern, and worry that blatantly displayed in his face, and no curiosity whatsoever.

“It doesn’t, not anymore.” Not after years of therapy. Chris doesn’t look convinced. Aaron sits up, with a hand on top of Chris’. “Do you want to know?” he asked, unsure himself.

His eyes don’t look blue at the darkness of the room. They opened the window and the city lights were their only light, yet Aaron can feel his eyes looking at his scars. Looking up, Chris looks determined. “Yes.”

So, Aaron told him everything. Foyet, the man who took his whole world from him. How it started with him being presumed as a victim, the deal, the stabbing. It wasn’t the worst part of it. The worst part was how Foyet involved his family. His then ex-wife, Haley and his way too young son Jack were sent to protective custody. Even with that, even with the strings Aaron pulled to keep them safer, Foyet got to him and Aaron was too late. Foyet made Haley calls him as he shoots her on the head with Jack present. When Aaron reached the house, all he sees is red and the next thing he knows, he’s beating Foyet flat to the ground. Each strike he lands, even with the bone-breaking crunch, the man laughs until he died in his hands. He doesn’t know when he died, or which punch that did it, which hands. A coworker needed to pull him away from the dead body, then he ran towards his son’s room to find him bleeding out in his bed while hugging his Yoda figurine. Even after he killed him, it felt he didn’t give the man when he deserved. He didn’t even give his son a quick death, but a slow painful one.

It ate him alive for years thinking the way they died. His son must’ve been so afraid as he bleeds out and his consciousness slipping away, the fear Haley must’ve felt when she faced Foyet. Aaron promised that he’ll make it up to her for the rest of his life after everything’s done, and he still does. For a long time, Aaron doesn’t know what else to live for and found it back with them.

He never told anyone this much. The bureau’s psychiatrist had his file so he doesn’t need to say much. His relationship with Beth ended before he could tell her. In each word he says, the scar made itself known. At the end of his tale, his mouth is dry, and his heart on his hand where Chris is holding with trembling hands.

“Oh god, Aaron.” Chris sobs, but just as Aaron predicted, he’s holding back tears behind haunted eyes. “That’s horrible.” Chris held Aaron’s hand tighter.

“It is,” Aaron admitted.

“I’m glad that he died, even more knowing that you killed him, but how do you get away from the bureau with that?”

“Not without a fight and justification. I was a prosecutor, after all, I know my way around.”

“Still,” Chris catches himself after hearing his voice broke, “Ugh, the justice system is so fucked up, and I’m the justice system.”

“We’re but a gear among many.”

“I know you must’ve heard it a lot before, but I’m so sorry it happened to you.”

“I don’t actually.”

“Don’t what?”

“Not a lot of people said they’re sorry. My colleague didn’t say it, they don’t need to, I already know. Not a lot of people know about it since it’s highly classified for my sake. My ex’s family blamed me for what happened, so they’re not sorry for me.”

Chris falls into a solemn silence. His face rids of his usual playfulness or even sorrow. Just an empty expressionless mask as he stares down their clasp hands. It’s an eerie thing to see Chris slips out into this character. It’s foreign, but it’s still undoubtedly Chris, and that’s what terrifies him.

“It doesn’t happen to you anymore,” Chris says monotonously.

“Are you talking about me or yourself?” Aaron baited, and Chris finally looks up from their hands.

“For both of us.” Chris weakly smiled. “It’s just so sad, and I think I just broke there because... well, I can’t see the sunny part of it. There’s a bright side of everything, I know that. I just can’t see it in your case other than that it doesn’t happen to you anymore, and it’s never going to happen to you anymore because he’s gone.”

“You’re right.”

“Then why do you look like that?” Chris asked.

“Like what?”

“Like it’s still happening to you.”

Aaron didn’t see that question coming, even after knowing Chris’ character, sometimes the serious part of Chris often comes unseen.

“Because I never let myself forget. For the first years, after it happened, I don’t let myself forget by not forgiving myself.” The confession had been a dead weight he carried through the years. He told himself that he deserves the gaining weight he carries, even when he’s telling the bureau’s psychiatrist. Now, it’s different, because someone with teary deep blue eyes is telling him that it doesn’t happen to him anymore.

“Is that the reason why you’re always working late? Because of guilt?”

“I was, but not anymore.”

“But you still do it.”

“A habit.”

Chris hums, his eyes no longer wet in tears, but piercing and searching into him.

“I know how it feels to come home to a quiet house. I’ve lost...” Chris trails away, going quiet. Just a look at Chris’s face and Aaron knew he finally found someone that understands the loss he felt, and he’s not grateful for it. “I’ve lost more than I can handle in a short amount of time. I know how it feels, not wanting to come home, because... well, there’s no one to come home to. The empty rooms are all that I can get, though it’s needed sometimes.”

Aaron gulped. He knows Chris is right, but he never hears it loud and clear, or hear anyone says it to his face.

“We can do something about that!” Chris cheered and Aaron leans back, perplexed by the quick turn. “When it gets too quiet, let call!”

Aaron gapes for a few seconds before finally regaining his voice, “I can’t call you every day.”

“I not talking about everyday, silly. I know we’re too busy for every day, just when you have the feeling that you intentionally don’t want to go home when you should’ve, let’s call.” Chris noted the unsure look on Aaron’s face and leans closer with both his hand perching between Aaron’s waist. “Look, we don’t even need to talk, just going online on WhatsApp voice call. That way I’ll be just around the corner for small talk or even petty question.”

“You’d do that?” Hotch doesn’t know how he looked, but the way Chris smiles at him so full of compassion fills a void that’s been gaping for a long time.

“You’re not asking too much of me, I promise. I want to call too.”

After a smile, Hotch finally nodding in agreement. “Thank you.”

Chris slips his arms around Aaron’s torso and hugged tightly. “By the way, I didn’t say this before, but the scars look really sexy on you, sorry.”

Aaron chuckled, “Don’t be, that’s the first time someone doesn’t pity the scars I have.”

++++

“SSA Hotchner.”

“You’re still at the office?”

“Yes.”

“Aaron,” the voice firmed up.

That’s when Aaron finally tore his eyes away from his reports and looks at the caller ID, seeing Chris’s name.

“Just landed, this paper is last minute.”

“Uh-huh,” Chris doesn’t sound convinced. “Oh, by the way, thank you for the gift.”

“Do you like it?”

“It’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen, I was in tears, then conveniently wiping my tears with it.”

Hotch chuckled, “Is it really tears worthy?”

“It deserves a bucket of it, mostly because of laughter, mostly because I imagine you making it. When did you even find the time?”

“I spent a few minutes before bed on it.”

“Awww, okay I’m not mad anymore, but look at the time Aaron Hotchner! I know the watch I gave you still works, it’s time to go home. I’ll read for you again if you needed to.”

Aaron looks down at his wrist. Black leather and titanium steel. Silver needle points at an 11 and a 10. “I’d like that.”

“Okay, call me when you’re home, bye hon.”

“Bye.”

The line disconnected, and Hotch looks up to see Rossi standing there with a smug smile.

“And what would that gift be, that it made a grown man cry?” Rossi steps inside and hands him a folder.

“I knit him a handkerchief with a cat on it, it’s surprisingly easy.”

“You? Knitting?” Rossi said with eyes balked, rising a tone on each word.

“It’s surprisingly therapeutic.”

Rossi shook his head and chuckles, “Look at you two! Already acting like a pair of an old married couple. I didn’t think you two will even go that far, I was skeptical, not gonna lie.”

“Me too,” he admitted, “But I really like him.”

There’s a playful glint in Rossi’s eyes, a mischievous intent, “So, what’s your status?”

“What do you mean?”

Rossi gave him a look and Aaron, for the lack of a better word, ‘got caught.’ He never thought of it before. He just assumes that Chris and he are in a relationship, but now that he thinks about it, none of them had established that.

“You’re getting rusty there boy,” Rossi smirks, enjoying Aaron’s demise.

“Well I might be, but it helps that Chris is as rusty at this as I am.”

+++++

“I know the sound of that sigh,” chirped a high pitched voice from the desk in front of him, then followed by a screech from plastic wheels scraping the floor.

Chris pushes himself to the side, away from his messy desk filled with due reports and a computer screen filled with even more words and updated evidence. Wheels from his old chair squeaks and he meets a done expression from a blond with glossy pink lips.

“Trouble in paradise?” She beats him to it.

“Nothing like that Haily, just tryna take care of my...” Chris froze. Haily arched her permanently made eyebrows, watching Chris like he just got a stroke.

Why didn’t he ever think about this before? They never established a relationship. Like who are they? Are they still in the probation period? Because it doesn’t feel that way. Now that it doesn’t feel that way, what are they gonna do now?

“Really Chris? Don’t tell me you haven’t asked him to be your boyfriend yet. I taught you better than that.” Haily’s loud voice is mercifully is on a lower side as she said that.

“I... I don’t know! I was waiting for him, and I don’t want to be the one that pushes!”

“You said you have a heart to heart a couple of weeks ago! Isn’t that the green light?”

“I think so... I mean, it has to be but I can’t be sure.”

Haily knits her eyebrows together so hard it’ almost looked like a unibrow, pursing her lips as she lands her pretty tiny face on her long manicured hands. “Did he do something that makes you second guess?”

Chris shakes his head vigorously, “It’s not that... He’s perfect, Haily. He’s the tall dark and handsome type I love. And his body! Oh my god, that fucking suit had fooled me for months! His body is an absolute unit. Like, dense and packed with full power!” Chris sighed breathlessly as he wipes a sweat on his temple while Haily rolled her eyes. “But inside that hard exterior is this dreamy soft and gooey heart. But... do you remember 2015?”

Haily dropped her frown, pale blue eyes open in surprise, “How far have you gone?”

“To the moon.”

“Chrissy,” Haily awed, pushing with her work leather heel and pushes her office chair to bump with his. “This one won’t crash and burn like the dumpster fire of 2015, I promise.”

Chris rubs his face and lay on his hand, “How would you know?”

“You gotta trust me, honey,” Haily drapes her skinny arms around Chris’ shoulder, “I’ve seen you grow, you’re more mature now and Aaron is different than her. It won’t happen again.”

“You haven’t even met him yet.”

“Shh shhh shhh, I just know okay? Though opinion may change after I see him, maybe.”

Chris just gave a weak smile, he went weak in the knees at how he’s going to bring this conversation up. They’re already comfortable being where they are now, being who they are. If Chris brings it up... what if Aaron taps out?

“Hey! I don’t wanna see those wrinkles,” Haily press her fingers between Chris’ brows. He flinched back, pouting. “What were you texting bout with mister cool and sexy anyway?” Give it to Haily to know who’s texting who without seeing. She said it’s in the typing sound, the hesitating pauses, the excited rapid punches. Chris is still learning, still doesn’t get it.

“I was lecturing him about staying late at the office,” Chris admitted bashfully.

Haily narrowed her eyes at Chris, scoffing, “And where are we at this same hour?”

“Our office...”

“Go home Chris, then call your boo.”

“Okay,” Chris takes his bag and put on his jacket, “How bout you?”

“I lost that bet with Santiago and had some extra reports, but I’m done now,” She takes her purse, “Come now baby, let’s ditch this dump!”

+++++

“Chris?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re burning the banana.”

“Oh shit!”

Chris yank the pan away and throw it to the counter beside the stove while turning it off. Poor banana... it’s burnt on the sides, sticking to the pan. Poor bacon and eggs, why are they mixed with a banana?

“Why are you searing banana with bacon and eggs,” Aaron chirped, looking down at the monstrosity Chris had created.

“I don’t know,” Chris mused, not daring to look up to look at Aaron after what he’d done to his pan, and other things too of course. “Sorry about burning our dinner.”

“Wanna eat out?”

“Yeah, I mean... we have to,” Chris looked pointedly at the pan, suddenly feeling exhausted. He just came back from work when he jumps into the train to see Aaron, who happens to just land from a case.

He thought the homey environment would make it easier to have ‘the talk’ but it’s not.

“I can hear the gear in your head turning,” Aaron bumps his shoulder against Chris, “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking of places to go to.” Smooth af Chris. “I’m feeling fast foods.”

Chris turns around to get his jacket, but Aaron steps in, planting firm palms against the counter, trapping him in between. Aaron leans forward and Chris froze.

“What...” Chris blurted, the space between them and the position of him being trapped killed half of his brain cells.

“You hate fast food,” Aaron stated.

Rats! “Can’t a guy have some cravings?” not really... he hated fast food. This smooth youthful skin doesn’t clear itself. How else do you think he looked this young despite his age?

“I know something is bothering you.” Aaron squints his eyes, and Chris’ heart thrum rapidly. He’s being profiled, oh no. “You insisted on coming to my place instead, so whatever you wanted to tell me, if it goes bad, you can easily leave without making me feel bad.”

“You have to guess what I was about to say first,” Chris played along, almost glad that he doesn’t need to say it.

“You wanted to end our relationship.”

Chris gasped so loud he almost choked on his own breath. He grips Aaron’s biceps, “Wha- No! Are you crazy!”

Aaron just chuckled shyly. Chris blinks, perplexed. “I know it’s not that now.”

“I... what, you really think there’s a possibility I would want that? Aaron... maybe you’re not as good as a profiler as you thought.” Chris doesn’t mean that. It’s just that Aaron is legit a dumbass if he ever thinks of Chris ever wanting to let him go.

He’ll never find anyone like Aaron again. Someone who treats him seriously even though he tended to act like a dumb bitch outside of work even at his age and with his profession. Someone that... well, loves him back with the same intensity as him. Someone that doesn’t comment on his weird-ass hobbies and quirks... yet.

“What else was I suppose to think you’re gonna say?” he asked with the softest smile that still makes Chris turn all warm and gooey inside. “You haven’t looked at me in the eyes since you walked in.”

“I was about to ask you to be my boyfriend, Aaron, geez...” Then his breath hitched. The words just slid off his tongue. His grip on Aaron loosens, ready to bolt. But Aaron’s arms still entrapping him between his suit wrapped body and the counter, then his face mellows, not even a tinge of shock.

“Yes,” Aaron says and leans down to kiss him.

“Wait...” Chris says between kisses, “You knew!”

“To be fair, I only knew after hearing your reaction.”

“Well, fudge sticks... There goes the rest of my 5-day plan.”

“Sorry to spoil your unnecessarily long plan. Now, what do you really want to eat?”

“I wanna go to Trader Joe’s so we can make some chicken salad and pasta.”

Aaron smiled at him, though it just looks a bit different than his usual heart eyes. Sickly sweet, soft and fluffy smile. Just something else Chris can’t point out, and he doesn’t know what makes Aaron that excited for his mediocre chicken salad and pasta.

“Let’s go then.” Aaron finally lets go of his arms and wraps them in Chris’s waist instead. His face buries at the crook of his neck.

Chris wraps around his around Aaron’s shoulder. He doesn’t question as they stay there just hugging.

This feels nice. Chris wants to feel like this for as long as he lives. Whoa! That’s some heavy feelings there, maybe it’s what Aaron felt too? Well, he’s going to ask if Aaron wants to spend the rest of his days with him too someday, but not today.

Today’s menu is hugs, food, and Netflix until they sleep on each other.

#aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner #criminal minds #criminal minds fanf #Aaron hotchner x OC #aaron hotchner x male original character #contains spoilers #morgan x reid #but minor though

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fyeahbecachloe · 5 years

Text

the one where beca doesn’t like dogs (4/4)

Beca/Chloe Rating: T Word Count: 2885 Summary:What looked like an emaciated wolf was currently lying on her floor glaring at her. Eyes wide, Beca stood there frozen afraid it would attack her.

Beca doesn’t like dogs but she’s dating a veterinarian so she’s pretty much screwed.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

READ ON AO3

Weekends used to be days to go out, hang with friends, go to the beach, or have date nights. Now weekends to Beca is lying on the couch doing close to nothing except watch TV and spend as much time with Chloe doing minimal activities. The exhaustion from their week only allowed them to do so much movement. The only strenuous activities they participated in was sex.

Beca was lounging on their couch, watching a Chopped marathon while Chloe cooked them lunch. She was helping earlier until Chloe kicked her out because apparently kitchen knives were not to be played with. MJ was watching her cook and hoping she’d drop a piece of food on the floor. Every once in a while Beca could hear Chloe talking to him.

“Such a good sous-chef!” Chloe praised and MJ barked. “So much better than Beca.”

Beca scoffed and lifted her head to yell at Chloe. “I heard that!” She returned back to watching but could already hear MJ running from the kitchen and into the family room where she was. He quickly jumped onto the couch and laid his entire body on top of Beca’s. His head was lying on her chest and he looked at her expectantly.

The first time he ever did that, Beca nearly pushed him off but now she’s so used to it. MJ has been in their house for about 6 weeks and he has been completely transformed. His fur has fully grown back and he was the appropriate weight. His one paw was no longer red and raw abut covered in his normal white fur. The fur on his damaged ear grew back as much as it could. He’ll always look a little funny with one pointed ear and one half an ear but Chloe said it made him that much more special. He still looked grumpy though but Beca kind of really liked that about him.

“What’s up, dude? You help Chloe cook my lunch? Am I going to be eating mouthfuls of fur?” Beca reached over and scratched behind his ear. MJ let out a little howl that sounded like he was almost talking. Another thing Beca found out while he’s been there. Huskies are talkative.

“Baby, food’s ready!” Chloe called from the kitchen.

MJ jumped off of Beca and quickly ran into the kitchen. Beca followed him, shaking her head, and sat down at the island and watched as Chloe set MJ’s food bowl down on the floor. “You do know I’m ‘baby’ right?” Beca said to MJ as he waited patiently for Chloe to give him his command. “She was telling me food was ready, not you.” But MJ wasn’t paying attention to her because Chloe had given the command and was already wolfing down his food.

Chloe laughed and set hers and Beca’s plate of food on the island. “You are ridiculous, you know that?”

“He’s ridiculous,” Beca muttered and twirled a large quantity of spaghetti on her fork and took a huge bite.

Chloe shook her head in the amusement and began eating her lunch. “So MJ is pretty much ready for adoption.”

Beca swallowed her food and took a sip of her Coke. “Oh yeah?” MJ had already finished his food and was doing his normal sitting/begging for scraps.

“Yup,” Chloe took a bite of her spaghetti before continuing. “We’re going to film one more update at the clinic, finishing the editing, and then post in on our youtube. Then MJ is going to do a little photo shoot for the adoption website. I’m sure he’ll be adopted super quickly.” Chloe grabbed her iPad that was next to her on the island and opened up the notepad that had a long paragraph written on it. “This is what’s going to accompany his adoption post.” She handed the iPad to Beca.

Hi! I’m MJ, a Siberian Husky. My rescuers estimate me to be about 2 years old. I’m 55 lbs of pure fluff. I know I look grumpy but I can assure you, I’m a big love and cuddle bug. I’m already house trained and know all my commands. I’m very good on a leash and love to stick close to my humans. And while I get along with other dogs, I prefer to be the only dog in a house. I’m also good with small humans too! I’m very active so I need daily exercise so a house with a yard would be a perfect furever home. I’m also a good listener even though I only have one ear! Please consider adopting me, I’ll love you furever!

Beca finished reading with a smile on her face. “Did you write this?”

Chloe grinned. “No, MJ did, duh.” The smiled fell from her face as if she was just realizing something. She looked down at MJ sadly. “You ready for your forever home, buddy? We’re going to have to say goodbye soon.” MJ walked over to her side and put his head on her lap and let out a dog sigh.

Even though Chloe was looking down at MJ, Beca could tell that she had tears in her eyes. She put her fork down and slid her plate to the side and turned in her chair so she was facing Chloe fully.

“What if this was his forever home?”

Chloe turned her head so fast she felt the wind from her hair. Sure enough, her eyes were filled with tears. “What?”

Beca smiled and took Chloe’s hand. “I’m saying, what if we adopt him and he becomes our dog?”

Tears were now falling down Chloe’s face. “Beca, are you serious? You want to keep MJ?” Beca nodded now only realizing the tears in her own eyes as Chloe pulled her into a kiss. She could see MJ’s tail wagging from the corner of her eye. Chloe pulled back only to stand up and pull Beca into a full body hug with her face in her neck. MJ jumped on them and started barking wanting to be a part of the hug.

“You hear that, buddy?” Chloe asked, pulling slightly back from Beca while still having one arm around her. “Mama wants to keep you forever!” MJ titled his at head both of them before jumping up to stand on hind legs while his front paws were on Chloe’s leg.

Beca watched the exchange with a tearful smile. She never told Chloe but whenever she heard her talking to MJ, Chloe always referred to Beca as “mama” and herself as “mommy.” At the time, Beca knew that Chloe was already dangerously attached but a part of her really didn’t mind having that title. MJ was practically the dog clone of her. Not that she’d ever admit that to Chloe.

“So what’s next, mommy?” Beca quipped. “When do we sign the adoption papers? Or like do a gender reveal or whatever it is that straight couples do?”

Chloe rolled her eyes. “I’ll fill them out on Monday and I’ll change all the information on his chip. Still gotta film the last update and tell our audience that we decided to keep him.” She looked at Beca curiously. “What changed you mind?”

Beca took a deep breath and looked down at MJ who was still looking at them like something was about to happen. “Partially you, partially this stinky butt. When he’s not annoying the crap out of me, he’s so…” She stopped not really know how to describe a dog she never wanted made her feel. “Warm.” She looked back Chloe who was looking at her like she was the whole world. “Like you. You both feel like home.”

Chloe was crying again as she softly kissed Beca. “I have a confession to make.”

Beca grinned. “What? You knew I would want to keep him the entire time?”

“Actually no, after all these years, you still surprise me.” Beca smiled at that. “No, I wanted to say that I named him at the clinic when we first got him.”

Beca squinted at her not quite sure where she was going with this. “Okay?”

Chloe let out a laugh. “MJ stands for Mitchell Jr., I named him after you.”

If Chloe wasn’t already holding her, Beca would’ve pulled back from shock. Her mouth was open in offense. “You named a mangy dog after me? How very dare you!” MJ let out an annoyed grunt at Beca’s outburst (proving Chloe’s point more) before going back to his spot in the family room.

“Babe, please, you’re exactly the same. First, he looks grumpy as hell. He has blue eyes, (“You have blue eyes!”), he seemed to only like me and not anyone else, he doesn’t really like playing with other dogs, but once you get to know him, he’s the softest, sweetest dog in the world. Just like you.” She finished by tapping Beca on her nose.

Beca grumbled. “I’m not the dog.” Chloe laughed and pulled her back for another kiss.

“I love you, thanks for letting us keep MJ.”

“I love you too, please don’t tell anyone you named him after me.”

Chloe’s laughter filled the entire house. “I promise.”

Beca was working on a remix at the studio when she got a notification on her phone from youtube. Unlocking her phone, her lock screen was now a picture of Chloe with MJ, she smiled when she saw that Chloe had finally posted MJ’s rescue video. Pausing what she was doing on her mixing program, Beca went to her laptop and opened up a browser to youtube and clicked on her subscription notifications.

The thumbnail on the video was of MJ smiling and Beca couldn’t help her own as she clicked the play button. A black screen with the text WARNING: GRAPHIC WOUND PICURES CONTAINED IN VIDEO. PLEASE ADVISE appeared. Beca frowned because she knew that she’s probably going to be seeing MJ’s damaged ear.

“Hey guys, welcome back to Scrappy Little Pawbuddies, I’m Doctor Chloe.” The video started with Chloe walking outside while filming herself. “I’m here with Xavier.” The camera moved behind Chloe where one of Chloe’s coworkers waved. “We just received a call about an injured husky that’s been frequenting an old shed. The local neighbors are not quite sure how long he’s been there but they have been leaving food for him. We’re here to see if we can get him back to the clinic.

The camera turned so Beca could see where they were walking to. The shed was located on an old lot and she could see MJ coming into view as Chloe and Xavier got closer. “There he is.” Chloe’s voice was a whisper and they stopped about 10 feet from where MJ was. He looked awful laying on the ground like that. He looked just liked when Beca first met him but a lot dirtier and his ear was bleeding. MJ definitely noticed them approaching because he quickly stood up with his tail between his legs. The camera was set on the ground but still had a good shot of the dog and she saw Xavier slowly approaching with a hamburger and a soft snare.

“Hey buddy, you hungry?” Xavier said as he stopped and knelt down a few feet away from MJ but he was already baring his teeth and was growling quietly. Xavier ripped a few pieces off the hamburger and threw it towards MJ. MJ sniffed at them but didn’t eat any pieces. Text appeared on the bottom of the screen. Xavier realized that the dog probably didn’t trust men so we waited a little while before Dr. Chloe tried.

There was an obvious time jump in the video as it cross faded so now Chloe was sitting in front of MJ and was trying to coax him out of the shed.

“Are you sure you don’t want any food? It’s really good.” She too threw some pieces of burger to MJ but this time he ate a few. He very slowly walked out of the shed and approached Chloe. Beca has watched enough of these videos but it still made her worry every single time Chloe would be this close to a stray especially if it was a bigger dog. Chloe had gotten her fair share of bites from scared dogs. But this time, Beca actually knew how this rescue was going to end.

“Good boy!” MJ was completely within in Chloe’s reach now and he licked her hand. She carefully and easily slipped a loose leash around his neck and gently petted him. The video continued showing Chloe and Xavier walking MJ back to the rescue van and he allowed Xavier to lift him into the crate in the back. The video faded again and now they were back in the clinic and Chloe was standing next MJ who was on an exam table. It looked like he was just freshly bathed and his ear was cleaned up. He was trying to lick Chloe as he she spoke to the camera

”Hey guys, we’re back in the clinic and we decided to name him MJ. We ran a few tests on him, gave him a bath, and cleaned out his ear which looks like was bitten by another dog. It had a little infection so he’s now on antibiotics. He was thankfully heartworm negative and surprisingly no fleas or ticks. Main concerns are his paw, ear, and it looked like he had some irritated skin at some point hence the patches of fur missing. It’s thankfully not mange so that hair will grow back soon. He was surprisingly microchipped but unfortunately the phone number was disconnected.”

Another text appeared on the screen explaining to the audience that the previous owner had died.

“We’re going to keep him here for a few days before he goes off to a foster. Well, actually I’m going to foster him until he’s ready for adoption.” Chloe smiled as she tried to keep MJ from trying to lick her during her entire explanation. “He’s actually already very trained so he seems like he’ll be a really good house guest. We’ll keep you updated on his progress.”

The video continued on as Chloe filmed his progress and it was really something to see MJ transform to a healthy dog. Of course Beca was there during the entire thing but to see it happen on a time lapsed video definitely showed the stark difference. Finally it got to the final update which Beca knew was filmed just a few days ago. MJ was wearing a Barden Bella scarf around his neck. Chloe’s idea obviously.

“Hey guys! Back with the final update with MJ and you’ll be happy to know he’s been adopted.” Chloe paused for dramatic effect. “By me! And my girlfriend. Yes, a complete foster fail, right buddy?” MJ licked her face. “We wanted to thank everyone again for watching and donating. If it weren’t for you, these rescues wouldn’t be possible. MJ is now a happy and healthy, very spoiled dog. Thanks for watching this video and we’ll see you again on the next rescue on Scrappy Little Pawbuddies! Say bye, MJ!” Beca let out a laugh when MJ raised his paw a few times and it looked like he was waving. The video faded to a screen with all the information on the rescue and how to adopt and ways to donate.

Beca scrolled through the comments and smiled at all the ones thanking Chloe and the rescue for all they do and the ones saying how cute MJ was. Of course she rolled her eyes on the ones asking about “Dr. Chloe’s girlfriend” and the rest of the comments telling the user that it was Beca. Sometimes she forgot she was actually a little famous.

Her facetime ringtone interrupted her perusing through the comments and her face broke into a smile when she answered Chloe’s call.

“Hey babe!” Chloe’s blurry face came into focus and Beca could see she was in her office. “Did you watch the video?”

“Of course I did, our little stinker is going to be famous.” Beca saw the phone’s camera flip and then she saw MJ’s grumpy face appear on her screen. “What’s up, dude? You’re about to go viral, please don’t let that inflate your ego.” Beca could tell he was a little confused as to where her voice was coming from so he just barked. Chloe turned the camera back to her.

“What time are you expecting to be home tonight? I’m cutting out early because it’s a slower day so I’ll probably be home around 5.”

Beca looked at the remix she was currently working on and saw she only had a few more things to tweak. “I probably could be out by 6 if I’m lucky. Don’t worry about dinner, I’ll get us take out.”

Chloe smiled. “Okay, I’ll let you get back to work so you can home early. MJ! Come say bye to mama.” She flipped the camera again and MJ did his little wave. Beca reflexively waved back. “Bye Beca, love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Beca continued her work with a big smile on her face. The rest of the day flew by as Beca’s mind was filled with thoughts of coming home to her family.

#bechloe #beca x chloe #my fics

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nonsensical-rants · 5 years

Text

So, I 100%ed the Kingdom Hearts Franchise.

Alright. This might be a long take, just saying that now. But I know exactly where to start. This franchise. Is not as confusing as the entirety of the internet would like you to believe. It's mostly due to bad writing decisions here and there. I mean, yeah if you wanna have every single detail and definition ingrained into your brain. Then of course it can get complicated, but what franchise lasting as long as Kingdom Hearts isn't annoyingly convoluted? I can't think of one.

So my thoughts about the series is that they're pretty good! Both as a story and as games, with some very big exceptions. I wanna say that you should definitely not try to 100% all of these games in chronological order in rapid succession. It will drain you. I can confirm this beyond a shadow of a doubt. After I beat KH2 it really start to hit me. Chain of Memories was fine, if not a bit tedious to get all the cards and Riku to level 100. But other than that I more than enjoyed my time with the game.

Heartless are born from the darkness in peoples hearts. Nobodies are created from the husk of a body left behind in the creation of a Heartless. While Unversed are born from supreme negative emotions that live inside us all. The stronger these feelings are/the person is, the stronger the heartless/unversed and nobody. Especially strong people can keep their identity when transformed into Nobodies. Thus explaining Organization 13. Only the keyblade can truly defeat these creatures. What's so hard about describing that to someone? It isn't that far fetched in terms of the fantasy genre.

Though personally. I have an enormous hatred from Kingdom Hearts Dream Drop Distance. Despite trying to keep an open mind about any and all forms of media I come across, I cannot ever get behind this title in the series because it is just too much and strays too far from what i consider to be "Kingdom Hearts". The gameplay was not fun for me personally, the story was iffy at best in comparison to the others and it really felt like the biggest amount of padding. If you have to do that to become a Keyblade Master, I think i'd rather stay as a rouge agent like Sora did for 99% of the series.

The dream eater system was probably the biggest factor here as for 100% completion you have to get every single dream eater, and every single skill that they can give you which means leveling a lot of them up to the point where they have points to buy said skills. Which takes forever. And then there's the Dream Eater tournaments, which I would have never gotten past without cheap strategies I found online. Usually I get everybody to max potential in these games and give the best items and accessories all around. But as soon as I got the platinum I ejected the disk and took a break. I felt like I needed it.

Alright, putting that behind us. The difference in fighting styles from game to game can get a bit jarring but in the PS4 re-releases it can usually be adjusted too in about half an hour to an hour's worth of gameplay. Chain of Memories was fun, but tedious like I mentioned. And Birth By Sleep was actually a fresh of breath air (until you get to the secret boss fights that is...) If it wasn't for my need to see that 100% bar next to the game title I would classify these games as something everybody should try out and enjoy. They are fantastic experiences. So lets go in order for a bit.

KH1 is a classic story, going through Disney worlds with a fine mix of Final Fantasy. Meeting the princesses and seeing they are "Princesses of Heart" that have strength beyond muscles. Able to use the power of Light and what not. There's a few hiccups here and there (like Cloud and Sephiroth not acting like how they are in FF7 but everyone's already mentioned that.) But aside from that and the bad platforming, its a genuinely fun game to 100% and I'd highly recommend it. Maybe even try to get cosmic arts for everyone so you can have 16-19 MP bars. It gets silly.

Chain of Memories i've already mentioned a lot so far. So I don't think I need to go that in depth. Fun to go through but wouldn't recommend 100%ing it because it takes far to long. The story is actually pretty decent and isn't that complicated. Sora and the gang lose their memories of KH1 because of the magic witch Namine, while we get our first look at Organization 13.

KH2. The golden child. Still played by many to this day and its obvious to see why. The game play is crisp and fantastic as I remember it from my youth. Traveling to Disney worlds again (and not card versions of them that have no people except for cut scenes, like CoM) and having a constant looming threat over your head while you try to have fun on your journey. Its great. I have yet to do a level 1 critical mode (as that's not required thankfully) but I did thoroughly enjoy my regular Critical play though. Story still isn't that bad yet. Organization 13 comes in full force, trying to get a new version of "Kingdom Hearts" so they can restore their humanity. I'd highly recommend 100%ing this one as well. Would also recommend maxing out your stats and putting on multiple Full Bloom+'s and Shadow Archieve+'s for the fun of it.

Birth By Sleep. Still not that bad honestly. It comes at a weird time though, and the story telling kind of requires you to have some outsider knowledge so that you're not thrown for a loop the entire time. So it feels weird to go back in the past, but also necessary for the story as a whole. Fun game to play minus the hundreds of mini games you need to do for all three main characters. If it wasn't for that I would recommend playing this game to completion. It's hard to reach higher levels though and as everyone's who played the game knows. Terra sucks at End Game compared to Aqua and Ven. I beat the Secret bosses by sheer luck and I would not go back for them. You do get to learn the origins of what makes most of the future events play out though and you even get to see younger versions of Organization 13. Back when they weren't evil!

Nothing eventful happens in Re:Coded.

Dream Drop Distance... Already talked about it. Let's move on before i'm forced to remember dream eaters and their annoyingly high pitched theme song.

Birth By Sleep 0.2: A Fragmentary Passage. Really good demo for KH3 in all honestly. I had a fun time with it and seeing Aqua's pain and journey through the realm of darkness for a whole 10 years was interesting.

And now we're at Kh3. The big game we waited so long for. And its... Alright. Nothing really spectacular. The graphics are certainly splendid and gameplay feels great! If not a bit too floaty. Thats a problem for some people, especially those who were avid fans of KH2. But I had no problem with it. I have yet to play it on critical but i've heard it makes things far more entertaining. As for story, its also alright. Not the grand ending I was expecting but it was really fun all things considered. Just another ride through more modern Disney worlds. But no Final Fantasy! I get that they feel KH can stand on its own legs now but you can't take out half the formula that people fell in love with originally. Then there's no battle arena or replayable boss fights. Doesn't have to be the Real Orginization 13. Just any replayable fights with end game gear would be enough.

As for my real problem with the games. Is the treatement of the third member of the original trio. Kairi. Oh, how this character has divided a good portion of the fan base just by existing. It feels like all the time that she is just a damsel for Sora/Riku to save and rescue. In the first game, thats fine. Whatever. She was unconcious the whole time and had her heart within Sora. Chain of Memories was a game about Sora losing his memories and Riku overcoming his darkness. Thats also fine. But in KH2. Really? She gets a keyblade and can't even handle a group of shadows? The lowest level of heartless? It's embarrassing. She's supposed to be a Princess of Heart. What's that even mean anymore? It doesn't even seem relevant.

KH2 should've been her moment to become a party member just like Riku did. I dont care that it means you could possibly not have Donald or Goofy. KH2 felt the most like the penultimate ending to the series than Kh3 did in my opinon. Having the choice between your KH1 buddies (Sora, Donald and Goofy) or the Island Trio (Sora, Riku and Kairi) would have added excellent variety and much needed development for Kairi as a person rather than leaving her as a one dimensional damsel in distress who has a Nobody with more internal conflict and character motivation. Moving past that... BBS is a prequel so nothing for the original trio except for meeting Aqua/Ven/Terra. And we come back to the dreaded DDD again.

If my vision for Kairi in KH2 couldn't have become a reality. Then why wasn't DDD Kairi's game? The set up was perfect. The heroes of light need to train to overcome almost double the amount of darkness agents. Kairi (and Axel) are practically beginners at wielding a Keyblade. It should've been their time to shine and get some love while occasionally helping Sora and Riku in their Mark of Mastery exam. Why did it have to be something you do alone? Well actually you're not alone you have the stupid Dream Eaters. Regardless it could have been the newbies learning how to get to Kh2 Sora's level while Sora goes beyond his limits.

As for KH3, it's just awful. Kairi's treatment is awful and everyone knows it. She said she was gonna help but hit one whole heartless in the finale. Better than KH2 i suppose. And as for the argument of her being "too weak" to try anything agaisnt Xemans. Really? She couldn't even like. Step on his foot? Pull agaisnt his grip or switch which hand the blade is in? Since the keyblade can teleport to your hands when you need it. I don't expect her to randomly become a Keyblade Master, but. I think we all would've prefer if she just did ANYTHING over what actually happened. It's sad. I hope KH4 will give Kairi the proper treatment and character development she deserves. But for all we know it might be another Sora/Riku dual protagonist game like CoM or DDD. What do you think?

#Kingdom Hearts #KH #KH3 #kh sora #kh kairi #kh riku #NoksNonsense #Nonsensical-Rants #Opinion

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sethrine-writes · 5 years

Text

Come What May - Ch. 4

Pairing: Captain America/Steve Rogers x F!Reader

Words: 2102

Warnings: Fluff

Summary: There’s quite a few coincidences that happen throughout anyone’s lifetime. It just so happens that you’re experiencing far too many in a short span of time to be considered mere coincidence - and others are also beginning to take notice. Just how many times can Captain America actually save you before things take a turn for the worst.

A/N: Hello all! Back at it again! Ya’ll seem to really be liking the story, so far. Thank you guys so much for reading, commenting, liking, and reblogging! Here’s to many more chapters ahead!

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Chapter 4 - Shirts ‘n’ Skins

There was a place about ten miles deeper into the city you enjoyed going to with your brother when you had the time and money to spare. It was a large building and looked a bit rundown, with rust spots covering it in splotches, the building itself rightly named ‘Warehouse 36’ back when it was just for storage. You only ever knew the place as Shirts ‘n Skins.

The large warehouse was basically now a shop filled to the brim with all sorts of shirts, graphic T’s, novelty items, gifts, fragrances, and a full section of the large expanse of space was sectioned off and dedicated to the military.

Andrew had shown you around nearly three years ago after a mutual friend introduced him to the place, and you fell in love with the sheer size and variety of clothes and gift items they had available. Not to mention, it became so much easier to shop for Andrew’s military-appropriate attire, as they catered to all branches and ranks within and even donated some of the proceeds to each branch.

Another feature you had taken advantage of a few times in the past was their T-shirt print service. Once, you had given them a drawn-out image of some team thing you were participating in for your company, with a list of names of those on your team. Two days later, you had a box of bright orange shirts with the image and your team’s name embossed on the front in a bright, squiggly blue font, with the last names of each member on the back.

The place was absolutely amazing. That day, though, you were on a mission to find your brother a new set of boots. He’d had the same pair for years, and though they were still in pretty decent condition, you remember him saying something a few weeks back about possibly finding a new pair, as the soles were starting to thin. He’d been so busy recently that you doubted he’d even had the chance to leave his post at the tower, let alone step out for a new pair of boots.

With that thought in mind, you entered through one of the four doors centering the building, determined to find just what he needed. That determination faltered just slightly when you noticed that things had…changed a bit on the inside.

You passed several aisles with a mild sort of confusion, looking up to the large banners that named each area and finding that some things had been moved to different places. There even looked like there were quite a few new things added to the stock.

Thankfully, the military area was still in the same corner, the large building made within the warehouse a familiar and welcoming sight. You stepped up to the window located on the right, smiling at the familiar, older face working there.

“Luke, hey!”

“Oh, heya, (Y/n)! It’s been awhile! Where’s ya brother? He around?”

“Nope, not this time,” you answered, “he’s been real busy these past few months.”

“No kiddin’? Bummer, he’s a good man, good company.”

“Yeah. I figured while he was busy, I’d do some of his shopping for him. You need my I.D.?”

“Nah, think we all know ya by now. Come on in, kid.”

Luke reached off to the side and pressed a series of number-laden buttons, the large door to your left giving a small buzzing sound, signaling it was now unlocked from the outside.

“Thanks, Luke!”

You entered the building, not at all surprised by the scatter of men and women, most dressed in some form of basics, scanning through the items down several long aisles. The building itself was like a completely separate store, with access granted only to those in the Force or a select few with proper identification, of which you were lucky enough to have.

Politely greeting those you passed, you made your way to the very back where the wall was covered with different sizes, makes, and colors of boots, your eyes scanning for the darker shade that Andrew seemed to prefer. You knew the color and size you needed, but the make…which one was it, now?

“Well, I’ll be damned, if it isn’t (Y/n)!”

Startled, you turned at the exclamation, a surprised smile instantly lighting your features at the familiar dark blond hair and green gaze eyeing you with utter delight.

“Damien?! Wow, it’s so great to see you!”

The tall man chuckled as he moved forward and wrapped his muscular arms around you in a firm hug, your arms winding their way around his neck to return the embrace. When he pulled away, it was with a wide grin.

“It’s been way too long, sweetheart. What made you decide to grace us with your lovely presence today?”

“Andrew said something about needing new boots a while back, so I thought I’d get them for him, since he’s been so busy. I just…ah, forgot the make he usually gets.”

“I got you,” he said, reaching up somewhat above you for the brand you had been eyeing, but weren’t completely sure was right. “He still a twelve and a half?”

“Yeah. If they have them in the darker color, that would be great.”

He shifted a bit to the left, carefully pulling out a box and handing it to you. You opened it, inspecting the pristine boots within to find they were exactly what you were looking for.

“Thank you, these would’ve been hell to reach on my own.”

“Anything for my favorite girl.”

You smiled at the familiar endearment, elbowing Damien almost playfully.

“Your favorite, hm? How many other girls you got around here?”

“Oh, you know, I got a full harem, just…hordes and hordes of women throwing themselves at me, begging me for that number one spot in my heart.”

He gave a dramatic thump against his chest over his heart, giving you a playful look.

“Yeah, okay,” you said with a laugh, Damien following suit. His gaze then turned soft, almost tender with emotion as he continued to look down at you.

“I’ve missed you, (Y/N). It’s been way too long.”

“It really has,” you agreed, though you gave him a quizzical look. “What are you doing here, anyways? Andrew said you’d been deployed overseas.”

“I was, but our mission was cut short,” he answered. “A handful of us were sent back, so now I’m just helping out my uncle until they need me again. Oh, he bought this place, by the way.”

“Oh, he finally bought it? I thought things were looking a little different around here. Honestly, I didn’t expect Mr. Yahmen to finally cave and take the offer.”

“Well, he did, after a bit more…persuasion. It was a clean transition in taking over the business, and my uncle isn’t changing much, just expanding the products. He’s even upping the proceeds going to the military from the original thirty percent to sixty.”

“That’s amazing! You guys more than deserve every cent you can get.”

“Here recently, everyone would beg to differ. Too much shit happening that we haven’t been prepared for, and the majority of the population likes to blame us for it.”

He seemed a bit put-out as he spoke, enough that you caught the shift in his demeanor. You gave a gentle smile as you shifted the box in your grasp to one arm, reaching your hand out and placing it against his bicep.

“Guess I’m not everyone, then. People like you, my brother, you guys do so much for us, for this country. It’s not an easy job, and not everything is…ideal. But I have faith in you to do the right thing.”

Damien reached over and placed his hand over yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. There was that look in his eyes again, so tender and sweet, and for a moment it made you feel a bit flustered.

“Damien…?”

“If…if you’re not busy later, did you maybe wanna-?”

“(Y/n)? Wow, it’s great to see ya!”

At the gruff call of your name, both you and Damien pulled back from each other and turned to find Dusty, Damien’s uncle, and Captain America himself, dressed in jeans and a tight-fitting shirt and looking every bit surprised and amused to see you there. You couldn’t hide your own amusement at seeing him, shaking your head at the absurdity of your run-ins.

At least you didn’t have a gun pointed at you, this time around.

Dusty looked between you and the blond man, a somewhat knowing smile adorning his features.

“Oh, do you know each other, my dear?”

“You could say that,” you mused, smiling up at the man you’d forever know as your blue-eyed savior. “Well, Captain, I’d say it’s a surprise to see you, but at this point, I’m beginning to wonder if you’re actually following me around.”

“It’s…Steve, please,” he started with a sweet lilt to his lips, moving a bit closer at your welcoming smile. “And, for the record, I didn’t know this place existed until a friend of mine sent me here.”

“If you say so,” you teased lightly, watching as Steve’s eyes shifted over to Damien a moment before finding your gaze again.

“Oh, excuse me! Damien, you know the good Captain, yeah? Steve, this is-“

“Sergeant Damien Briggs, at your service, Captain,” Damien cut in, standing straight at his full height and giving Steve a salute, of which the blue-eyed man returned.

“Always glad to meet those heroes who are in the service. How long you been in?”

“Seven years, Sir. And still love every minute of it.”

“Good to hear,” he said with a small smile, turning to look at you once more. Damien did the same, both pairs of green and blue eyes expectantly waiting for you to say something. You stood there for a moment before realizing that the silence was actually becoming awkward.

“Oh! Uh, thank you, again, Damien, for helping me with the boots.”

“Sure thing, don’t mention it,” he answered with a grin, though it didn’t feel as genuine as the ones he had given you before. “I should get back to work. Don’t be a stranger, sweetheart.”

He then turned to Steve, giving the super soldier a nod of his head.

“Captain,” was all he said in farewell before moving passed him to his uncle, who looked mildly amused at the scene that had played out before him. They walked away together, leaving you and Steve to your own devices.

“So,” you began teasingly, “come here for a new uniform? Tired of that red, white, and blue body suit they have you wear?”

“No, actually, I came here on business. Classified, I’m afraid.”

“Mm, official Avengers business, then? Don’t worry, I’m not prying.”

“I’m not worried,” he said sincerely, following up with, “the suit is, ah, actually not too bad. If you, uh, wanted to know.”

“I’ll have to take your word for it,” you said with a smile.

There was a long stretch of silence between you where you both just stared at each other, words on the tip of your tongues, but brains unable to articulate how to form them. You both finally broke the silence, rambling at the same time.

“Did you maybe wanna-“

“So I was thinking that we could-“

Steve gave a short chuckle as you huffed in amusement, finding the moment awkwardly sweet.

“Sorry, you go ahead,” he said, ever the gentleman.

“Well, I was…I was wondering if you’d like to grab a coffee. With me. As friends, of course. Or, uh, acquaintances getting to know each other better? If, you know, you’re not still on business time, or whatever, or maybe we could do it some other time? Or not at all, I mean-“

“Yeah,” he answered as you rambled, his smile brightening as he gave a breathy laugh. “Yeah, that sounds good. Honestly, I was about to ask you the same. Figured three unintentional meetings has to be some sort of sign, right?”

You beamed at the blond man standing tall before you, finding that your sudden burst of confidence and playfulness was now quickly turning into awkwardness.

“Alright, then I should get…yeah, pay for this then, ah…yeah.”

“Yeah,” Steve repeated with that same sweet smile, turning to the side and holding out his hand in a gesture to lead you forward.

“After you, ma’am.”

“Oh please,” you stated, moving past him as he followed behind you, “if I’m calling you Steve, now, the least you can do is call me (Y/n).”

“Sure thing, (Y/n).”

Oh, you liked your name coming from that man’s mouth.

------

Tag List: @just4muggles, @achishisha, @pinnedandneedled, @deaniebean

#marvel #marvel cinematic universe #mcu #steve rogers x reader #captain america x reader #steve rogers #captain america #marvel mcu #Come What May

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hideandseaking · 5 years

Note

Since everyone and their grandmother has been freaking out over it, what is your opinion on the whole "not every Pokemon will be in Sword and Shield" controversy?

So I’ll just start with my conclusion in that: it’s most likely to provide the game on time.

Okay, so I don’t really have much of a stake in this argument because I don’t have the time to complete the national pokedex, and I don’t play the VGC (I prefer the TCG but I won’t go into which competitive format I think is the best here). But I really do think that this is more of a time crunch situation than anything else.

I’ve seen a few theories surrounding this and I personally think that rendering 1000 Pokemon is a lot to ask for from game freak. This isn’t animal crossing where they’re pushing back the date as to not kill their workers and to provide us with a complete and debugged version of the game, but this is Pokemon. We’re pretty much in the timeline now where a new Pokemon game comes out every year around Christmas time, and we buy it. Parents buy it for their kids. Adults buy two copies sometimes. Pokemon is the most popular franchise in the world. And though I am in the firm belief that we can all wait 2 years for a good Pokemon game, Nintendo and Game Freak want their money every Christmas.

To expand a little on this, it’s not really about the quality of the graphics cause I know those trees look like they were rendered from a SNES at this point. This is about how the Pokemon actually run in this game. We might hit 1000 Pokemon this year, and considering that you can dynamax all the Pokemon this time around, that’s a lot on the game itself and imagine being the person who has to make sure the switch doesn’t melt itself when wailord is dynamaxed. It’s a lot. And they are trying to make it by a deadline at this point. In LGPE, if you have a Butterfree behind you at a curve in Viridian Forest, the game lags for a second (trust me it happened to me). They’re not making sure all the bugs are dead, they’re making sure the game runs smoothly in time for the November launch.

Another factor into this is that they’re using SMUSUM graphics for this game. Which is a shame cause I think LGPE was very nice looking and ran very well and looked really great. If they kept these graphics, I think we would’ve been able to have 1000 Pokemon. But instead we’re leaning towards SMUSUM graphics, so this is the game we’re given. They’re more detailed in the game and, therefore, it’s gonna take more work to make sure they run correctly.

So yea, I think this is a deadline motivation not really much of anything else. The switch being able to handle it is something I have confidence in, but considering the time limit they have? I can’t say I was really expecting 1000 Pokemon right off the bat. Maybe it’ll open up to the national dex later on, but for now it’s just capitalism babeeeey.

#pokemon #my asks #not that i really think this should be happening and i'd wait another year for a good pokemon game with all 1000 #but technically im the person they're selling it to which is the person who doesnt care about nat dex or vgc #we'll see how it turns out in november i guess #Anonymous #sword shield #swsh #pokemon swsh

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namjoonsteeth · 5 years

Text

HONEY - (Bangtan Boys mini series)

A/N: not fully edited yet

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Reader

Genre: Smut; enemies to lovers

Word Count: 7.6k

Joon always reminded me of honey, smooth and wet. From the way he spoke to the way he moved.

Even as we both trade abrasive words in class, rallying back and forth as we try to make known our top tier positions academically. Namjoon is far smarter than me. This much I know. The guy is an actual genius with which that could not be argued with. He corrected professors, he pointed out contradictions in course material, and more often than not he made his disdain for me known whenever I went up against him. I picked fights with him. It was clear to everyone. He’d say one thing, and I made it my sole purpose to side with the opposite. It was petty and completely unnecessary; I’m sure our professors found our sparring to be a waste of time on most days.

“Which is why the statement “Shakespeare is overrated” is neither accurate nor is it valid, Y/n. Not only has he contributed many words to the modern English language, its undeniable that he has changed the way authors and playwrights tell stories,” he ends his ten minute rant by shooting me one last look of distaste.

I irritate him. I’m mostly ok with that considering that any attention from him is good attention. He’d reminded me of honey, and the only time I could get his eyes on me was when we were fighting. I’d relished in the times that he’d narrow his dark brown eyes on me, his full lips going a mile a minute as he’d battled my made up opinions. He talked slowly but quick all at once. He’d take long beats of time to formulate his attacks before spewing them out without even a breath in between. If I was anyone else, If I didn’t love every bit of attention he’d given me, maybe he would’ve broken me semesters ago.

“One day you’re going to make him snap,” Seokjin smiles while we walk from European literature.

Namjoon left before us, knowing that his friend would walk me to my next class after we grab something to eat. I think it further irritated him that I found a way to be friends with all of his roommates. He’d refused to both join a fraternity as well as leave his friends alone to fend for themselves. He’s the most responsible one out of all seven boys, even managing to keep the older ones in line too. That’s just how Joon is, he’s in control of most things in his life.

“That’s the plan,” I smile brightly up at him.

“Why are you such a brat, Y/N-,” Seokjin winces immediately after speaking as a hand slaps the back of his neck. The younger boy joins us naturally, a sweet wide smile on his face while he teases his friend. He shakes his dark hair out of his face before tucking his hands into the deep pockets of of his oversized black hoodie.

“Hey, Jeon Jungkook, I’m older than you, you know?” Seokjin says knowing that it’ll start a fight. I sigh waiting for the inevitable; JK hits Seokjin, Jin reminds him that he’s five years older than him and demands respect, JK pretends like none of that matter, chaos ensues until another boy shows up to break it up.

“And you still don’t know how the talk politely to women,” JK clicks his tongue and shakes his head.

I watch the two of them bicker back and forth, trading neck slaps and dodging each other on the crowded sidewalk. I watch as the other students get out of the way of their playing, not batting an eyelash as JK dramatically rolls on the ground to dodge Seokjin’s attack.

The Bangtan boys have always been a spectacle. In the beginning they were foreign exchange students who seemed to be good at everything all at once. They were all so close that everyone thought that they were real brothers, no one really bothered to correct them because for all intents and purposes, they are. Seokjin quickly became the lead of Thespian Club, Yoongi an irreplaceable shooting guard on the school’s basketball team, JK and Tae have founded a whole gaming club as well as being members of the men’s choir, and Jimin is student body president as well as the co leader of the dance team with Hoseok who is also a member of the diversity board. As for Namjoon, there isn’t enough time to list all of his accolades.

He’s a genius. Not even speaking in terms of comparability to the other students at the university. Namjoon is a genius compared to the world. With an IQ of 148 he surpassed me easily. I think that’s why I liked to mess with him so much. I know that I can never beat him academically. We both know, but I think it annoyed him that I wouldn’t stop trying.

We finally get to the sandwich restaurant on campus. We spot Jimin and Taehyung easily. All the Bangtan boys have a draw to them. Invisible halos that draws the eye the minute they enter a room. They could be doing the most mundane thing in the world, like sitting at a restaurant with their noses buried in One Piece, and they’ve got the whole room’s attention. Jimin with his high cheekbones that cause the apples of his cheeks to puff up when he smiles and silver hair, Tae with his angular features that no doubt belong on a runway. It’s hard not to look at them, What’s worse is that all seven boys hold the same charm. Gazes move from the two young boys in the center of the lunch room toward the two boys who are still fighting playfully as we make our way to our friends.

“Y/N, are you coming over tonight?” Jimin asks, while leaning forward to see me past Tae.

I shake my head as I pull out my buzzing cellphone. It’s Hoseok, telling us that he’s buying us all burgers and if we want something else it’s a little too late. The boys all ignore the text, fine with anything as always. Yoongi tells us that he’s skipping lunch to go work on some music before his game tonight. I see Namjoon’s floating icon pop up, showing that he’s read the message. It’s been weeks since he’d had lunch with us. Usually he’s able to ignore me and focus solely on the boys. Out of the blue he’d started going to the library during the first break in his schedule.

“I rather not sit through passive aggressive Namjoon finding different ways to express his hate for me without being too obvious,”

Hope brings sets two trays full of food in the middle of the booth table we’re all sitting at. His hair is back to black meaning that he’s either changed the girl he’s sleeping with this week or his preferred dance style. He’s entirely too predictable and he’s fine with it. He catches my eye as he slides into the booth beside me and passes JK a drink.

“Oh, he 100% hates you,” he says seriously. “Hey, Jeon Jungkook, I only got you one burger. Don’t eat too fast,”

JK smiles around his already full mouth. He sips at his drink to wash his food down so he can speak. “It’s ok. Jin Hyung will get the next round,”

“What do I look like to you, huh?” Seokjin points across the table at JK who laughs at having riled up the oldest again. “I spend so much money on you, neglecting the other maknaes all in the name of putting food in front of you,”

“Maybe if you weren’t old you wouldn’t have to bare the responsibilities that come with being the eldest,”

“Hey, Jeon Jungkook!”

The rest of the boys ignore them as they get into another round of bickering. It escalates when Jin reaches out for a neck slice which JK dodges easily. Hope rolls his eyes and pulls out his phone.

“Hyung, doesn’t hate you,” Tae says not looking up from the graphic novel in his hands. He opens his lips wide as Jimin shoves a French fry into his mouth.

He flicks his strawberry pink bangs out of his face and focuses on his story. That’s how Tae is. Either he’s completely absorbed in our conversation or he’s only giving us half of his attention. He’s almost done with his book, so I expect by tonight he’ll be the center of chaos with JK.

It’s not that I actually think Namjoon dislikes me. He wouldn’t let me get to him so much if there isn’t just a hint of fond there. At least, I hope so. I hope there’s a part of him that likes going at it with me as much as I do. Still, sometimes it feels like he’d give anything to get me to shut up. Or maybe it’s that he wants to be the one to do so. Again, I hope so. God, I really want him to.

It isn’t news that Namjoon is attractive. Whatever trait you’re into, he has it. He’s incredibly intelligent, able to outsmart just about anyone on campus. He’s physically attractive, slightly tan skin, tall, large just about everywhere. He’s funny when he’s with his friends, protective, sensitive, and just about anything else you could think of. God, I sound like I’m in love with the guy. If I’m honest, maybe I am a little. Maybe that’s the point of all of this.

“This is dangerous territory,” Hope warns looking a up form his one and at his friend who don’t seem to have a problem with spilling all of Namjoon’s secrets. His warning seems serious but he speaks around a large bite of the burger in his hands. There’s sauce on his cheek, JK reaches out to wipe his jaw quickly before going back to his own meal.

“I think he wants to sleep with you,” Jimin proclaims before wincing as Hope and Seokjin hit either side of his shoulders at the same time. “Hey, why should I lie?”

“Where’s your loyalty, Jimin,” Hope asks frowning at him.

Jimin shrugs.

“With whoever is in the room I guess. And I’m not betraying Joonie Hyung. I’m taking the steps he’s too prideful to take,”

It would be funny if I wasn’t too focused on how all five boys look to be hiding something. It’s not fair for me to exploit Jimin’s weak ties, right? I’m going to do it anyway. As smart as Namjoon is, he’s not necessarily right about everything. I can’t imagine I’ve done something so bad for him to avoid me so much that he’d sacrifice spending time with his friends.

“Which are,” I prod.

JK covers Jimin’s mouth to keep him from speaking. If there’s anyone loyal to Namjoon it’s going to be the youngest. He’s shown a reverence for the other boy plenty of time, even refusing to take my side on most occasions. I can’t expect him to tell me what’s going on without a little work.

“JK,” I say pushing my lips out in a pout.

He’s young, not quite accustomed to the charms of women. Though he knows he’s incredibly attractive, he’s not quite sure how to act around girls yet. His cheeks turn red as he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth. Like a deer in headlights, he looks a little innocent and a lot startled.

“Don’t fall for it, Kookie,” Hope warns again.

I roll my eyes and try again, blocking Hoseok’s strict expression with my hand on his face. He makes an obnoxious noise of anguish before quieting down. Satisfied, I remove my hand and let him eat in peace. Tae continues to ignore us, Seokjin watches in silence as Jimin’s eyes light up in mischief.

“You know I like your hyung, JK. It’s not like I’ll use anything you tell me against him,”

That’s only half true. I’m going to get Kim Namjoon to admit to liking me even if it’s just a little bit. That’s my mission.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, but Mon Hyung would kill me-,” JK curses as Jimin bites his hand that’s still slapped down on his mouth. He shakes the sting off as Jimin shakes free of his hold.

“You made out with him at a party last Summer and he thinks you’re purposely ignoring it,” Jimin rushes out quickly.

More curses, this time from Seokjin, Hope, and JK. Tae smiles to himself but only flips the page of his book, completely unbothered and only slightly entertained. I knew I can count on one of the younger boys. I make a note to address JK’s misplaced alliance later.

“I kissed Namjoon?”

Jimin shakes his head. “I would call it more foreplay than a ‘kiss’, if I’m honest. It was at one of our house parties and I honestly felt like I was watching a very well shot, very realistic dirty movie,”

I look at Seokjin who only shrugs. “It was intense,”

“We didn’t-,”

Hope shakes his head. “You passed out before anything could happen. Namjoon took you up to JK’s room and that was it,”

“Last summer?” I ask, still trying to piece it all together.

The memory doesn’t even seem remotely familiar. I’d passed out in the bangtan house more than once, crashed in JK’s room even more times than I can remember considering he has an aversion to his own bed. This could have happened at anytime.

“Either you’re repressing the memory or you actually don’t remember,” Hope says while going back to stuffing his face.

“Why am I only finding out now?” I frown. “I’ve been asking you guys what I’d done wrong for a year and a half now,”

“Namjoon Hyung is scary when he wants to be. We all promised we wouldn’t say anything. Jimin, whatever he does to you, you deserve it,” Tae contributes while closing his book.

I agree, the recent turn of events are more interesting than anything else. I’ve been friends with these boys for just over three years now. I’m without a doubt the closest friend outside of the seven of them that they have. They’re my best friends, all of them; even Namjoon if he would stop acting like a dickhead all of the time.

Jimin shrugs and has the nerve to look smug. “I’m his favorite. He won’t care,”

He’s right. Jimin won’t get in trouble for spilling Joon’s secrets.

I eventually agree to go over tonight. It’s been a few weeks since I’ve seen Yoongi with how busy he’s been with practice and working on music. Still, it’s Namjoon that my heartbeat doubles for. I haven’t spent anytime with him outside of class in a while. Granted usually our time is spent sitting on opposite ends of the couch and shooting each other passive aggressive jabs. Still, I miss him.

Ironically, its Joon that opens the door when I get to their shared house. I’d decided to confront him about the whole “kiss” from last summer, still not completely believing the boys. I can’t imagine touching Namjoon at all and being able to forget about it. I needed an upper hand with him, though. I may annoy him most of the time with my picking and what not, but there’s still a part of him, even if solely on the physical level, that is attracted to me. I use that small fact to my advantage.

“You’re here,” he says.

It’s hard not to respond to him. I feel my body heat as he looks down at me. He speaks slowly like he’s not in a rush to let me in; typical. His body stays in the door way, blocking me from entering. We play this game every time I come over. His arms cross over his chest like he has no plans of letting me in anytime soon. As always, I look forward to it. We aren’t in class now, he’s free to let me have any insult he wants.

“Don’t let anyone tell you that you aren’t observant, Kim Namjoon,” I smile up at him.

He looks at my attire, the dusty pink dress stops right at the top of my thighs showing more skin than not. I watch his eyes rake over my body before he frowns at me again, a ‘W’ shaped line in the middle of his forehead. His jaw ticks once before pushing out just a bit.

“Did you have a date?” He’s obviously only pretending to care. I can tell by the sarcastic way his eye brow raises.

I raise my eyebrow back at him, unable to stop a smirk. “You care?”

“Does it matter?” he challenges, grating my nerves. Sighing, he smiles while giving me a scathing look. “Besides, it couldn’t have ended well if you’re here begging for attention as always”

“From who exactly,” I ask while crossing my arms over my chest. I don’t miss how his eyes flick down to my chest. His gaze lingers longer than he’s ever allowed himself to.

“It’s whom,” he corrects. “From whom is the proper-,”

“You don’t ever shut up, do you?” I interrupt becoming irritated. I shouldn’t be surprised. This is us. It’s dysfunctional and very stupid, but its how we’ve done things for the majority of the time that I’ve known him.

“Namjoon, we both know that you don’t like me enough to care what I do,”

“Stop telling people I don’t like you,” he frowns as if he’s just remembering something. “And stop grilling Jimin for information,”

He turns, leaving the door open, finally letting me in.

“The guys aren’t here,” he calls over his shoulder.

I follow him to the kitchen where our friends usually gather. He’s right, no one is home. This kind of seems like a set up. Just a little.

“Yoongi hyung has a game, Seokjin hyung and JK are there. Jimin and Tae are seeing a movie and Hope left an hour ago,”

Very convenient. I’m in the middle of sending a heated text message to the group chat about leaving me alone with Namjoon after telling me about you kiss last summer. Unfortunately for me, Namjoon is the type to talk about everything. Even if he’s not particularly fond of me, I can sense a discussion on the horizon. At least if the boys were here I’d have a bit of backup. This feels like an ambush with nowhere to run.

He hands me a bottle of water as he pulls one out for himself as well. I take a seat on a stool at the island counter in the middle of the kitchen. Namjoon leans against the refrigerator, his eyes on me as he takes a sip of water. His eyes never leave mine and its pretty hard for me to look anywhere else beside the deep dimples around his mouth that appears as he gulps down water. He uses the back of his hand to wipe his upper lip

I can’t remember the last time I’d been left alone with Joon. It was never awkward between us, but I was definitely closer to any one of the other guys than him. But he was also the only one of the Bangtan boys that I was ever attracted to. He just wasn’t approachable in that way, though He was always doing his own thing, always studying, tutoring, working on music. It wasn’t standoffish, he was just busy. Then it became that he’d rather do anything other than spend any amount of time with me.

The more I think about it, it was last year that we’d started losing patience with each other. As irritating as he is sometimes, I still like him. I really like him. His peach colored hair is starting to grown out just a bit already, darkening at his roots. He’s wearing his glasses, so either he was studying or working on something. Whichever it was, he looks incredibly domesticated in his t-shirt and sweatpants. I look at his feet to see his favorite character on his slippers. Its cute. The hidden parts of Namjoon that he hides away from everyone else but has no problem showing the other boys. I find it endearing.

“So are you going to stay until they get home or what?” He breaks me out of my thoughts of him.

“We’re friends right Joon?” I ask without really meaning to.

I’ve been thinking of our strained relationship all day, not really able to focus on anything else. Because at the end of the day, I want to be friends with Namjoon. If nothing else, we could get back to how things were when they first showed up.

“We used to be able to at least hold a conversation without jumping down each other’s throats,”

“Friends?” He raises an eye brow at me before taking a few steps forward, and leans against the counter, taking me by surprise.

Namjoon doesn’t have an ordinary face. I can’t explain it. He’s rough, hard angled , but he’s also soft. I know if I would reach out he’d feel the same way against my finger tips.

“You do everything you can to piss me off, and you want to be friends?”

I shake my head, unable to take my eyes off of his mouth when he’s this close.

“I want you to remind me about last summer, actually,”

He draws back slightly, looking almost..embarrassed. God, he really does think I’m purposely ignoring the supposed kiss. I thought I was being immature by purposely getting under his skin sometimes, but this is beyond childish. Unless he thinks that I actually regret it. Can’t regret anything you don’t remember Namjoon.

“I don’t remember the kiss, Joon,” I tell him quietly.

He rolls his eyes and draws back further. His chin juts out; a sign that he’s agitated. I’m getting on his nerves again, not in the banter-like way, more that he’s ten seconds away from throwing me outside.

“That’s supposed to be better?” He frowns while crossing his arms over his wide chest. “Because it isn’t, by the way. That was just a rhetorical question,”

Smart ass.

“Which one hurts your feeling more, Namjoon,” I can’t but sound bitter. He’s being mean. He’s always mean, but now it feels like he’s purposely trying to hurt my feelings. I’m done pretending like I don’t care how we treat each other.

“The option that you think it matters to me either way,” he snaps at me. His eyes narrow at the counter between us.

“You’re lying,” I counter.

“Why, because I don’t care that you were too drunk to remember that you kissed me? It’s irrelevant,” He looks back up at me and his eyes are dark. I like it. I like it entirely too much.

“And you’re so sure that I kissed you first?” I scoff, walking around the counter to stand in front of him. I can feel heat rolling off of his body like he’s putting in extra effort to control himself. If only he knew that its the very opposite of what I want him to do.

“Yes, because I wasn’t blacked out,”

“I’m going to do it again then,” I take a step so that my toes line up with his slippers.

“What-,”

I press my lips against his softly, forcing myself to take in every detail about how his mouth feels against mine. His lips are cold from the water he’d been drinking, his tongue is too. He taste sweet. Honey. All of him reminds me of Honey. Sweet, slow moving, packing more flavor than first expected. His hands move up my hips, drawing up the fabric of my dress. When his hand touches my thigh, it electricity right to my most sensitive nerve endings.

I want him. All of him. I’m sober and tired of pretending that our back and forth exchanges are enough. I press my body tighter against his, shaping every curve to his body. I expected him to push me away by now, but he holds me closer, hands moving all over me. At some points he seems hesitant, he pulls back, his eyes moving over my face as if he’s checking that I’m still here with him.

I’m here, and as good as he feels, his mouth isn’t enough. I don’t think it ever was. I’ve envisioned Joon’s body against mine more times than I can count. It’s the little doses of his skin that he’d show on occasions that started it. Glimpses of the tan skin of his neck as he scratched at his collarbone in glass, the pull of his lip between his teeth when he was thinking hard about something, his large hands and long fingers; they were all puzzle pieces of a whole that made me want every part of him touching me.

“Touch me,” I whisper against his mouth.

He lets me drag his hand up the side of his thigh. He takes the hint, fingers inching up my dress until he traces the waistband of my underwear. He’s so close, all he has to do is go a bit further, but he stops.

“They guys could walk in,” he says, pulling away fully.

Now that I have him this close, I’m not going to make it easy for him to let me go. I’m here for one thing. Namjoon.

“Well then lets go to your room,” I grab his hand and lead him out of the kitchen and toward the hallway that leads to the room he shares with Taehyung.

“Why so suddenly?” He tugs at my hand, stopping me from entering his room.

“Huh,” I look back at him.

I don’t really know how to answer his question. The only difference between today and yesterday is knowing that our first kiss happened already. Still, that hadn’t really made much of a difference. I’m emboldened by the sheer fact that he wants me at all.

“All this time and now you want to fuck,”

“Does it matter?” I shrug, hoping that for once he can just let it go.

He does. He nods for me to push the door, letting us both into his room. As expected of Tae, it’s a mess. Unexpected of Namjoon, his side is also a mess too. Wires and equipment take up most of his desk, piles of clothing on the computer chair in front. For someone so uptight in every other aspect, his room is the complete opposite. Not to say that I’m attracted to unkempt men, but it’s a little reassuring for some reason.

He pushes my back against his wooden door interrupting my scan of his room. His mouth trailing down from the corner of my mouth down to my neck. As if he can’t stand to be away from my lips for long, he kisses my mouth again, his tongue forcing its way between my lips. His large hands smooth over my bare thighs roughly. He touches me like he’s annoyed with himself, like he’s mad that he wants me in this way. I love it because I’ve known all this time.

One hand reaches up to lightly cup my throat, his hand is so big that his thumb can reach the hair that sticks to my lip gloss. He brushes it away with his finger as he looks down at me. He looks partially surprised that we’ve ended up like this. I want to remind him that that theres a thin line between fucking and fighting, but he’d only scoff and tell me to stop stealing corny lines from Jin.

“Are you going to keep touching me or is this it?” I ask him, trying my best to drag a breath into my lungs.

He rolls his eyes and presses his lips against mine to shut me up. I close my eyes, trying to commit the feel of his lips to memory. Things like this are volatile. There’s no way of knowing just how much Joon will give me tonight let alone if I’ll ever get to have him touch like this again. His bottom lip works with his teeth to bite at my sore mouth. He feels dirty, and uneven, like he’s not even trying to make this neat like everything else in his life. Just like his room, his intimacy style reveals who he truly is. The truth beneath Namjoon, he’s a mess, he’s sort of a freak, and he’s making everything up as he goes. There’s a certain charm to how well he’s gotten at getting everyone to believe that he knows exactly whats going on, when in reality he’s just as clueless as the rest of us.

“And If I tell you that I want you to leave?” He breathes heavily, only leaving the smallest space between our lips.

“You’d be lying,” I tell him while I reach up to brush his sweaty bangs off of his forehead. “But if you’d asked me to leave, I would go,”

I lean back, putting more space between us. I’ll give him one formal chance to change his mind, one chance to act like this never happened, because once I get permission to stay, he’ll have to try really hard to keep this dress from hitting his floor. I tilt my head as I size him up one last time. There’s still a possibility that he’d put an end to this. I’m measuring my odds. Going by the press of his dick between my legs from beneath his sweat pants, I know that physically he wants me. That could only go so far. I don’t think I’ll survive a come to senses moment in the middle of all of this.

“Joon,” I call running my hand down the front of his t-shirt. “Make up your mind. Either put me out or take my clothes off,”

He looks frustrated. I can tell its mostly at himself. That doesn’t make me feel any better. I want to be in his bed, only if he wants me in his bed. Of course it would be easy to settle for a one time hate fuck, but he doesn’t hate me. At least, I don’t think he does. I’m really hoping he doesn’t.

He grips my fingers right as they curl around his waistband. He takes a full step back, causing my feet to land fully on the floor. I don’t like this at all. I want to go back to having his mouth on me. I watch as he takes a seat on the edge of his bed. His hands scrub over the top of his scalp, running through the peach colored locks. Am I stressing him out? Am I having an effect? I hope to god I am. For the sake of my insistent need to have him, I hope that how much he wants me is driving him crazy.

He leans back on his elbows and I see the switch. His eyes trace over my body. I can almost feel them seeking out bare skin above anything else. His gaze is so potent that I feel goosebumps rise to my skin only from him watching me.

“Take your panties off, Y/N,”

His voice has become even deeper. It seems almost impossible but he sounds gruff, the arrogance from earlier is gone leaving me with only a matched need to have him inside me sooner rather than later.

As always, I don’t do as he says. I like our games. I like when he looks at me like I’ve hit every nerve possible. I like the attention. Only this time there’s no classroom. There’s no professor to break up the tension, no students to make snide remarks about how we’re destined to butt heads. It’s just Namjoon and I this time, and the feel of his shag carpet between my toes as I make my way over toward him. He’d told me to take my underwear off, but I do the opposite when I stop in front of him. I grab the edge of my dress in my hands before pulling it up over my head. I watch his eyes follow the material as it drops to his floor.

“If you go back now, you’ll never live it down, Joon,” I straddle his lap, planting my knees on either side of him on the mattress. “No matter how much you beat me in the class room, if you don’t fuck me tonight, I win,”

He reaches up with two hands to cup my jaw. When he kisses me this time, it’s almost too soft to believe. He’s too gentle, too immersive. As much as I want this, I wanted to keep my head, but right now everything feels a little incoherent. Nothing makes sense. The fact that I’m even here with him doesn’t make sense. But its Namjoon, and I’ve spent the better part of the last two and a half years wondering if his lips taste as good as they look. I’m finding that they don’t; they’re better.

His hands go to the back of my bra, undoing the latches before dropping it down to the floor with my dress. He pulls back, looking at my chest like he’s mesmerized. I didn’t realize just how much I’d wanted his eyes on me like this. The high I got from sparring with him in class is nothing compared to the way his eyes smooth over my chest, his tongue flicks over his bottom lip so quickly that if I hadn’t been staring at his mouth, I would have missed it.

I don’t know what it is about having his unwavering attention, to have him one hundred percent focused on me. Something about his gaze on me makes me want to make sure it doesn’t stray. I guess this is my chance to cement his eyes on me. If tonight is all I get, then its my mission to make it so memorable that he’d have to actively work to forget me.

I move first, leaving the warmth of his lap and crawling behind him into the middle of his mattress. I kneel behind him, running my hands across his broad shoulders, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck. I get to do this. For so long, I’ve imagined it. I’d spent hours in class wondering what it would like to touch him like this, and to have him touch me. His honey colored skin rises in goosebumps as I kiss him, moving pass the collar of his shirt.

“I’m going to take your clothes off now,” I say quietly.

He nods and lets me pull his t-shirt off. His shoulders are so broad, its hard to resist running my hands across his shoulder blades. My fingers trace over the beauty spots that dot along his collar bones. I want more time. I want to see all of him, to explain every inch of his tan skin. But I’m also a little impatient.

I reach in front of him, slipping my hand passed the waistband of his sweats. He’s not wearing underwear, that much was clear from the minute he answered the door. Now, feeling him, running my hand over his silky soft skin. It’s a sin. For him to be so…perfect. It isn’t fair to me or anyone else he has gotten to feel him.

“Is this ok?” I ask him.

“You’re asking for permission to touch my dick while you’re touching my dick?” He says like he still finds me incredibly exasperating. “You wouldn’t be in my bed if it wasn’t ok, Y/N,”

I sigh, rolling my eyes. How can he be annoying even now. Still, it does nothing to the way I need him. Feeling him has only made it worse. I won’t lie, the banter turns me on too. I don’t think it would be the same if Joon was too soft. It wouldn’t be him.

“Stand,” I command.

“Why?”

“Just do what I say for once,” I frown when he looks back at me, still refusing to move. His defiance might kill this before we can even get started. I sit back. With his eyes on me, I pull my simple cotton underwear and throw it with the rest of my clothing. I cock my eyebrow as he watches my movements, seemingly shocked.

“I’ll be here whenever you’re ready, Namjoon,”

“Where’s the thing?” He gestures awkwardly with his hands.

God, he’s so weird. Still, I can’t help but think he’s perfect. His passive aggressive jabs and awkwardness may be his only flaws but I don’t think I’d want him any other way. I hand him the condom that I threw on the bed and wait impatiently. He finally stands and pulls his bottoms off, his hand going down to cover himself as he climbs above me. Even with the coverage of his hand, its not hard to see just how big he is. Its not like I’ve ever doubted, but seeing it up close it definitely more satisfying than I could have ever hoped.

His lips touch mine again, as he opens the foil package and pulls the latex out. He has it on quickly, wasting no time lining himself up with me. His hands smooth over my thighs and pulls them around his hips as he pushes forward. My hands squeeze at his hands, trying to get a grip on something. He hasn’t moved yet and already I’m a bit delirious. Maybe it’s because I can’t remember the last time a person looked at me like they wouldn’t want to be anywhere else but right with me. Maybe it’s because I’m gathering that Kim Namjoon is really, totally, completely my type.

“Why can’t I stop kissing you?” He frowns to himself before kissing me for the hundredth time tonight.

“You like me,” I manage to tease while still getting used to how good he feels. I don’t think I’m ready for him to move yet. He’s already too much, and I refuse to give in the satisfaction of making me come so quick. Not when I’ve waited so long for this.

His hips snap against mine, immediately forcing me to drop my smile as my lips part. He builds a slow steady rhythm. It’s too slow, too languid, like he’s willing to make this last as long as it takes to drive me out of my mind. His kisses become messy, as his own lips part, a low moan of air brushing against my mouth. His hips still move almost painfully sluggish, like a drag.

Like honey.

I throw my head back into his pillow as he reaches between us to touch me softly. He’s too much at one. His large body covers mine completely, his awkwardly long legs tangling with mine. While he holds himself up on his elbow above me, his lips never leave my skin. I’ve never doubted Namjoon to have a side like this, I just thought that it would never be for me to see. Right now kind of feels like a necessity that I do. I need to feel his hips pull at mine. I need to feel his thick lips take mine roughly. I need to have him. Even if I only get tonight, I know that whatever happens later it’ll be worth it.

“You were wrong about Shakespeare,” he says suddenly. His hips snap against mine like he’s punctuating the statement and handing the pulpit over to me.

It’s such a ridiculous statement to make at this exact moment that I have no clue what to say. I’m stuck between forcing him off of me just so I can tell him how wrong he is about Shakespeare as well as let him know how completely absurd it is to bring it up mid-thrust. But, it’s Namjoon. I sort of expect nothing less than ludicrous musings at the least opportune times.

So I take the bait.

“Shakespeare is trite and he isn’t even the best satirical playwright and yet we a society celebrate him as such-, Fuck Joon,” I breath out as the rhythm of his hips pick up slightly.

“Who’s the best satirical playwright in your opinion,” his breathing picks up as we both start to sweat.

Our bodies are slick, moving together smoothly as we both chase after the rising feeling in our stomachs. He’s bringing me higher with each push/pull of his hips all while having a ridiculous conversation about playwrights and satire; which if we’re honest we couldn’t care less about. There’s just no other way to be for us.

I pull away from his lips that move against mine again, missing the taste of his tongue the moment he disappears from my mouth. I try to answer his question but it only comes out in a sigh as he hitches my thigh high on his hip. His fingers press tightly into skin as I close my eyes.

“Are you relenting?” I hear the smug tone in his voice. “Have I finally shut you up?”

I shake my head. Even now, I refuse to give it to him so easily; especially when I know it’s exactly what he wants. “No, I’m just in awe you’re finally asking for my opinion on something,”

“So, who then?”

“You’re incorrigible,”

“You’re deflecting,” he tells me.

“Moliere,” I say. “Moliere is the greatest satirical playwright of all time. Shakespeare wishes he could touch Tartuffe with anything he ever wrote,”

“There would be no Moliere without Shakespeare,” Namjoon counters. “And besides Shakespeare is a dramatist, satire was a hobby and even then Moliere barely measures up,”

He’s sort of right, but as always I’m not going to admit it. I counter attack by tightening around him. Moving his heavy hand aside, I take over touching myself as he continues to move against me. As expected, I’m quicker to bring myself over the edge than he is. He pauses as I come around him, unable to handle both sensations at once.

He curses lowly but its an illegible mix of English and Korean that I can’t begin to piece together. His face presses into my neck, as he presses his hips against mine and withdraws quickly. His rhythm is a little stuttered as he chases after his own orgasm. The competitor in me wants to win. There’s no definition of winning and losing during sex, but with Joon and I, everything is a game. Especially this. I use all my weight to roll us to the side, straddling his hips before he can protest. His large hands hover above my hips, not quite touching my skin. His plump lips form an ‘O’ as I lower myself back on him.

“Was this necessary-,” he moans louder than either of us expects, sighing as I rock my hips above him.

You’re so easy, Namjoon.

I press my chest against his, taking a turn to kiss him dumb like he’d done me for the last hour. Two hands move up my back and tangle in the hair at the nape of my neck. He pulls roughly as my hips start to pick up the pace, set on making him come for me. It’s all I really want.

“Y/n,” he breathes quietly.

I pull back, moving his hands back to my hips, urging him to use my body to make him feel good. I watch as his eyes close and his head presses deep into his pillow. His lips part slightly as and he holds me tight. He’s so close. I want to kiss him again but he looks too good. I can tell when he’s about to come as he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, biting down hard enough that his pink skin turns white.

“Let go, Joon,”

For once, he listens. His hips meet mine as he comes finally, his breaths coming out fast like he’s trying to refill his lungs. Unable to resist anymore, I lean forward and press my lips against his. He kisses me back roughly, wrapping his arms around my back to hold my body against his. I roll off of him, tired as well. As nice as it would be to spend the rest of the night in his bed, I can’t.

As if I wish them into existence, I hear the front door open and the sound of rowdy boys. I freeze, instinctually pulling the sheet off the floor and over my chest. Namjoon doesn’t seem worried. Slowly he moves my hair out of my face and kisses my temple before sitting up and swinging his legs out of bed.

“I’ll keep them distracted. Come out when you’re ready,”

I nod as he disposes of the used condom in the bathroom. When he comes back, he pulls the sweats up over his hips again before leaving me alone in his bed with too many questions. Is he going to tell them? Should we? I don’t have much time to think. I’m not sure exactly how many boys are back but I rather none of them find me in Joon’s bed; naked.

I run my fingers over my lips as I gather my clothing off the floor. He’s still on my mouth, I can feel him. I can’t get the taste of him out of my head. I can’t get any of him out of my head. I should’ve thought this through. I’m addicted now. I need more of him; more slow kisses, more of his hips dragging against mine. More honey.

#kim namjoon #bts rm #bts scenerios #bts imgaines #bts #bighit #bts jin #bts jimin #bts suga #bts jhope #bts taehyung #bts jungkook

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thewriterandthewitch · 6 years

Text

ASGARDIAN EPISTLE 3/3

Summary: Jane writes letters to Darcy to tell her about her stay in Asgard. Surprisingly, Loki is a prominent figure in her letters.

Chapter 1 ; Chapter 2

N/A: Here it is the last chapter! Enjoy the reading.

Letter 7

Dear Darcy,

Loki is still avoiding me. And he’s the most stubborn man I’ve ever met – especially when he’s driven by emotion instead of reason. If you had asked me weeks ago, I would’ve told you that Loki treated me with indifference and condescendence, as if I were an annoying girl following him around asking questions only he could answer. But now that he’s actively avoiding me, I can say that he was quite friendly during those weeks of supposed indifference.

This week, the king of Vanaheim came to visit Asgard and brought with him his family and his closest advisors. One of these advisors brought his own daughter, Lavinia, a witch apprentice. The first time I saw her was when I was in the library (trying in vain to corner Loki once again to force him to end this ridiculous situation), the girl came to me with confident steps, a perfunctory smile and a well-informed introduction. She didn’t ask me, but informed me that she had heard: “Prince Thor was courting me”. I shouldn’t be surprised to know that the citizens of other realms know about my relationship with Thor. He is a prince, a future king, and although there aren’t tabloids in Asgard, news and gossips travel very fast. Lavinia didn’t seem happy when I confirmed that I was the prince’s girlfriend. Now, I have no doubt that Lavinia had intentions of seducing Thor with the hope of becoming Asgards’ queen. Call me naïve, but only then I realized that there are a lot of people who are probably unhappy with Asgard’s prince courting a Mirdgardian, especially those who have their own designs on Thor.

With the palace full of magic-wielders (remember that Vanirs are quite talented magicians), I took advantage of the situation and asked some of the guests as much as I could about magic spells. It was gratifying to show Loki (who glared at me from a distance) that I didn’t need him to sate my thirst for magical knowledge. You can’t say I haven’t learned anything after living for one month under the same roof than the God of Mischief, you can call me devious, because I am sure the best way of assuring that Loki stops avoiding me is avoiding him back!

The trick is to let him think he’s doing the chase, and not the other way around. I will let you know if I am victorious.

Love,

Jane.

Letter 8

Dear Darcy,

Yesterday night, Asgard hosted a feast for their Vanir guests. There, I confirmed my bad first impression of Lavinia. I assure you, we could never be friends. She gave up on the idea of seducing Thor because… well, because of me, but that doesn’t mean she completely gave up on the idea of seducing a royal, because she sit next to Loki during the whole feast and talked with him without giving him a respite to engage anyone else in conversation. Loki didn’t seem very uncomfortable with her company, which disappointed me, because I thought he was too intelligent to believe the empty flatteries of such a woman. The times I was close enough to hear their words, they were discussing magic. It was evident that she knew and understood magic well (while I was still struggling with the idea that it existed), but Loki was obviously the most talented magician of the two and she pretended to be in awe of his magic tricks, and laughed too close to his face, and touched his arms and stroke his ego with compliments.

It was a bad evening. Loki was proving to be as silly as any other man when it came to femme fatales, and Thor had forgotten his usual chivalry in his chambers when he came to pick me up. Instead of telling me I looked beautiful (and you know I hate wearing gowns and heels), he said that he didn’t know I was planning on wearing a green dress and that he had always liked red better. You know me, Darcy, red draws too much attention. Emerald green, however, is beautiful, discreet and elegant. Thor has never commented on my wardrobe before – or in fashion in general – so I don’t know what was wrong with him that night. Fortunately, he didn’t mention it again during the whole evening.

And now, I need to tell you the more uncomfortable time of my night. Lavinia came to me and asked me if I had some tips to seduce Loki. Yes, she asked me that. Why did she think I would be able to give her a useful answer? Who knows! Of course, I played dumb and then, without any trace of embarrassment, she asked me about Loki’s preferences in bed. And I am relying to you a summary of her inquiries adapted for a PG audience, because she was unbelievable crude and graphic and explicit in her questions. When I told her I couldn’t know, she told me that I shouldn’t wear a green dress if I didn’t want people to think I was planning on sharing my bed with the younger prince or if I hadn’t enjoyed his attentions before.

What is wrong with these people and colors?

I am so angry right now that I can’t sleep so I decided to write you this letter instead.

I miss you,

Jane.

Letter 9

Dear Darcy,

How would I know if Loki slept with Lavinia after the feast? We’re not friends. He’s avoiding me. I can’t go to him and ask him such a personal question. If you’re asking me about what I think, I would say they didn’t, but I am not sure on what I am basing my answer. Maybe just in the absence of evidences.

The Vanirs left Asgard, and with them Lavinia as well. I didn’t see any romantic farewells between Loki and her and that’s part of the “absence of evidence” in which I am basing my answer. But I am aware it’s not very telling, because I just can’t imagine Loki being very romantic in any situation. But, who knows? Maybe he will surprise me! I mean… He will surprise me being romantic with another woman in my presence, not that I… It doesn’t matter.

Now that I have answered your question, I have to give you big news. Goods news, I think. Or more like regular news. Being completely honest, what wasn’t good was my reaction. Ok, brace yourself because… Thor has asked me to marry him. Yes, your eyes aren’t deceiving you. He’s the perfect man, he’s a fucking prince, he’s a god, he’s gentle, and handsome… So why was my answer: I don’t know? Is it because we haven’t been together that long? Is it because I am scared of being a queen? Is it because I am not in love with him? There’s something that’s preventing me from saying YES, I DO. And I am not sure what it is.

I love Asgard, and I can see myself living here my whole life, studying the stars, trying to traduce magic into our own science, having a family and even living thousand of years as the Aesir do (Apparently there’s an apple that can make that possible). But do I want to spend eternity with Thor? Do I want to be the queen of a realm I don’t know? Could I learn to be wife, queen and Aesir?

I told Thor I needed some time to think about it and I am planning on returning to Earth soon, so I will see you and hopefully you can help me to put some order to my thoughts.

Oh! And when I told the Odinsons during dinner that I was planning on going back to Earth for some time, Loki talked to me for the first time in days. As if nothing had happened. He didn’t explain himself or apologize, he simply said a condescending comment about Midgard – but he was talking to me and looking at me directly for the first time in eight damn days. I told you, he’s so infuriating!

See you soon,

Jane.

While they wait for their hamburgers in their booth of the diner, Darcy is unsarcastically silent but there’s something in her expression that tells Jane that her friend is trying to contain her special kind of wisdom inside. As soon as the waitress brings them their food and leaves, Darcy takes a sip of her coke and says:

“You can’t marry Thor.”

“What?” Jane says, surprised. This isn’t what she was expecting. “Why?”.

“Have you read your own letters, Jane? They’re quite enlightening.”

“I wrote those letters, Darcy, I don’t think I need to read them. I know what they say.”

“Oh, yeah? 202 times, Jane.”

“What? 202 times what?”

“You mentioned Loki Odinson 202 times in 9 letters.”

“That’s impossible. I didn’t say his name 202 times.”

“No. I counted his name, all the ‘his’ and ‘him’ that referred to Loki, as well as ‘the bastard’, ‘the asshole’, ‘the devil’ and ‘the father’, which are the names you called him.”

“I never called him father. That doesn’t make sense.”

“Yes, the father of your son.”

“Are you crazy? You’re making it up.”

“Well, you had a slip of the tongue just before you wrote about that story of Loki having a slip of the tongue when he called his father, father. To be more precise, you said…” Darcy took the letters from her bag, and looked for the fourth letter. “Here. You said: ‘He isn’t going to have my first born-son.’ I think that was a reference to the Rumpelstiltskin tale because you also said something about an unpronounceable name. Anyway, you said: ‘He isn’t going to have my first-born son. Talking about fathers and sons…’ See? There! Talking about fathers? You haven’t been talking about fathers before, unless you were thinking about Loki having your first-born son in the most natural way. And that’s not how the tale goes.”

“I just didn’t do a good job expressing myself. Okay? And yes, maybe I wrote a lot about Loki, but I don’t know… Maybe it was because you already know Thor, so I thought you would be more curious to hear about Loki.”

“You thought I was going to be more interested in the guy I don’t know than the guy I actually know? Isn’t it usually the other way around?”

“Well, he’s an interesting guy. And he has magic. Magic, Darcy.”

“Oh, I know. He’s sophisticated, his fighting technique is elegant, he’s witty, he has charisma and impressive magic skills, he has an explosive personality that can’t go unnoticed and… oh, yes, let’s not forget his brilliant mind. Is he handsome? You didn’t say and the pictures from New York are kinda blurry.”

Jane crosses her arms, and doesn’t answer.

“Jane.” Darcy says in a warning tone, and she sighs.

“Okay. Yes, he’s handsome. What are you trying to say?”

“Jane, you have a crush on Loki.”

“I don’t.”

“You’re just in denial. I get it, okay? He doesn’t seem like an easy guy, with his megalomaniac issues and all that, but you feel attracted to him anyway and that’s exactly why you feel like you can’t marry Thor. Because you like Loki better. And you want to have his kids.”

“You’re having fun with this, aren’t you?”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I am not right. Come on, Jane! You were jealous of this Lavinia girl!”

“Yes, she wanted Thor at first.”

“And then, she wanted Loki.”

“He didn’t sleep with her.” Jane said, not knowing exactly why she felt the need.

“Good. I am happy for you. And the thing with the colors and your dress... Jane, as I have told you, you’re the dumbest intelligent person I’ve ever known. Green is Loki’s color, you were sending a message to everyone who saw you.”

“What message?”

“It was like wearing a cartel that said: `I belong to Loki.’ Of course Thor wasn’t happy with your choice of dress.”

“That’s absurd. So now he’s the only one who can dress in green?”

“Not the only one. He and his lovers, I suppose. Maybe his future family.”

“What about black? He dresses a lot in black, too.”

“I think you’re safe with black.”

“It’s still absurd.”

“I know. I agree, but they’re not my rules. Asgard’s rules, apparently.” Darcy said, smiling amused. “And by the way, this is the last time you send me a PG letter. I want all the juicy details, so tell me, what questions did Lavinia ask you?”

Jane shakes her head, “Believe me. You don’t want to know.”

“Believe me. I want to know.”

Jane blushes before answering, “I am not going to say them here out loud. Okay? They were just very graphic questions about what he likes or doesn’t like to do during sex.”

Darcy’s smile grows bigger. “And you don’t want to find out those answers?”

“God! Darcy, shut up!”

“You’re thinking about it!”

“No, I am not!”

“You have it bad, girl. So you don’t want to go back to Asgard?”

“Of course I want to.”

“Well, then why don’t you? You know you’re welcome there.”

Jane looks at Darcy, hesitant. Finally, she sighs as if she had given up, “I am not sure if he will talk to me or avoid me again, okay?”

Of course, there isn’t any need for her to say who ‘he’ is. And Darcy knows that’s the only concession she is ready to give at the moment. For now, it is enough.

THE END.

#Lokane #Lokane fanfic #loki #Jane Foster #MCU

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