#like i have very complicated feelings towards the game its pretty messed up at times | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

demonicheadcanons · 3 years

Note

Can I get the brothers reacting to finding MCs sketchbook and it’s filled with drawings of the demon who picked it up? All of them are masterpieces and some are angsty or sad, others happy, some just them doing mundane things. When confronted, MC just says “Of course I draw you all the time, you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. You’re my muse.” Thank you in advance, if it’s too complicated you can skip.

AN: This cute prompt has been sitting in my inbox for far too long. Thanks for sending this in Nonny <3 I love this idea. I tried to keep each scenario short so I could get this done quickly, as you’ve waited long enough for it. Tried is the key word here ;u;

You’re maybe already dating the boys in these? Or very close? They’re not explicitly romantic but have some affection. I also didn’t make the MC say these exact words, or even anything at all in some of these prompts, but the general feeling is still there. I hope that’s alright!

Lucifer

You left the book behind when studying together, rushing off to meet up with Mammon after you realised you were late and would hear hell for it. He notices it sometime later, too busy relishing on even the short period of time he’d gotten to spend alone with you in relative peace.

He picks it up and, curious, with no worries that you might not really want him to look through it, he flips it open to the first page. He realises what it is right away, and continues to flip through the pages until he gets to a drawing of him. Its such a perfect represention of the moment that he can recall exactly when you must’ve drawn this.

You’d come into his room to have a break from all the noise in the rest of the house, and you had laid on your stomach on his bed and worked away at something as he went through paperwork at his desk. He’d wanted to ask you, at the time, what had you so focused, but he hadn’t wanted to ruin the sight.

He continues to flip through the pages, and frowns slightly for every drawing he sees of one of his brothers, but his lips twitch up every time there’s even a simple doodle of him. He counts, unconsciously, and realises you’ve drawn him more than anyone else. Pride swells in his chest, so very familiar and not at the same time.

He hears the tapping at his door and calls out, immediately, for you to come in. He knows that knock, after all, and you’re one of the few members of the house that he wouldn’t hear coming down the corridor. He leans against the front of his desk, holding your book open in front of him, not bothering to hide the fact that he’d looked through it.

The particular sketch he’s looking at is one where you must’ve been close - you’ve detailed in every long, delicate eyelash, his hair falling in front of his face and his lips slightly parted, only the faintest frown on his face as he focuses hard on his work. He smiles as he tips the book forward, watching as your eyes are drawn to it. To his surprise, you only smile, relieved, raising a hand to your chest.

“Thank goodness, I did leave it here after all.”

You walk over and hop up onto his desk, leaning towards him as you try to see which sketch he’s looking at. He slouches a little more to make you comfortable and shows the sketch.

“You’ve drawn me a lot,” he comments.

“Of course. You’re beautiful, how could I resist?”

He presses a kiss to your temple and rests his head against yours, smiling. He doesn’t often like people commenting on his appearance - he was confident enough about it, knew how he looked, but he didn’t need to hear about it all the time. Still, from you, it didn’t hurt. Especially not if you felt inspired enough by it to draw him.

[[Other brothers are under the read more]]

Mammon

Mammon had burst into your room and you weren’t there. Frustrated by your absence and unsure of when to expect you back, he decides to pick through your stuff. He wasn’t going to steal any of it - he’d been called out by Beel about that, before, and whilst he’d denied it at the time he knew it was true. He’d much rather steal something for you than from you.

The book is open on your desk to a page full of mindless doodles. It piques his curiosity, and he grabs it and sits down, kicking his feet up on top of your desk. It wasn’t like you were there to tell him not to, and you’d left without telling him where you were going so he was going to do whatever he wanted until you got back.

He flicks back to the start of the book, and honestly his first thoughts are about how you could easily sell these drawings for a lot of Grimm. Sketches of the Devildom, of flowers and creatures you couldn’t find in the human realm, of how the Devildom looked all lit up with the moon overhead, from the highest balcony in the RAD building. He’s in awe, mouth a faint ‘o’ shape as he continues to turn page by page.

The first drawing of him makes him freeze up. He was a model, Mammon knew he must be handsome. But he’d never felt it like he did now. In the drawing, he’s sitting on the floor, cushion in his lap as he plays some game on a controller. His expression is somewhere between frustrated and delighted, his hair fluffy and messy because he’d been running his hands through it.

He remembers - you’d been having trouble adapting to the Devildom so he stole- borrowed a console from Levi, but you were too tired to play. He played anyway, hoping that at least watching him would distract you enough, and to convince himself that he was in part doing it for him too and not to entertain some random human.

You walk in and he slams the book shut, but its too late - you’ve seen him holding it. You don’t seem mad about that, though, and instead glare at how he has his feet up on your desk. He adjusts quickly, fumbling as he tries to put on his confident act, walking over to you as he waves the sketchbook in the air.

“What’s this, then? You’ve been drawing me without asking me first?” he asks, teasing lilt falling flat in his voice. His face feels far too warm, as it often does when he’s around you.

“I couldn’t help it. You’re so pretty I just had to.” You shrug, nonchalant. You swipe the book from his hand and sit on your bed, tapping the space beside you. “How far in did you get?”

Mammon pouts as he goes to sit beside you. “Not far.” As he sits beside you, he grabs your sides and pulls you to lay down, holding the sketchbook open up in the air. He’s desperate for some attention right now, but he wanted to keep looking at your art. “Let’s look through the rest together.”

Leviathan

Levi was flustered. You’d been spending time in his room, and he loved your presence but it took him so long to get used to it each time that you stopped in to hang out with him. You’d brought the book you always had with you, and were working away on something, laying on your stomach on the floor with a Ruri-chan plushie in one arm.

He fumbles with his controller and sighs as he misses yet another jump in the game he was trying hard to distract himself with. Every time he glances over, he wants to ask what you’re doing, why you’re here with him when you could easily do your work elsewhere or with any of his brothers, if you were really happy to just sit in his presence like this. His voice dies in his throat and his face flushes when he catches sight of you, so he never does get to ask.

He’d messed up one too many times and was starting to get frustrated when he glanced over and realised you were looking at him, too. Heat floods into his face, and his frustrations die before he can even mumble out his signature ‘this is so unfair’. You smile, going back to your work before dropping your pencil. You wiggle around until you’re sitting, cross-legged, and hold out your sketchbook.

It was a drawing. You’d been drawing, and you’d been drawing him. Levi leans closer hesitantly, wanting to get a better look at it, trying not to think about how giddy and anxious your proud smile made him feel. He works up the courage to take the book out of your hands and looks over the drawing. It takes a long time before he can say anything, too busy focusing on all the little details - how his face is scrunched up from frustration and concentration, how his headphone cord is coiled around his fingers from when he’d been playing with it and hadn’t untangled it fully, how his head was tilted to stop his hair from fully falling in front of his eyes.

“You... its really good, but, I don’t... I’m not this handsome,” he mumbles, face bright red, and he flinches when you laugh.

“You are. More-so, actually, but its hard to capture from this distance.”

Levi can’t respond, just swallows. You sigh, something fond in it, and walk on your knees until you can fall against his side, cuddling up to the Ruri-chan plushie.

“Look through the other drawings. I only draw what I find beautiful. That’s why I drew you.”

His smile is faint, but its enough. He’s hearing your words, even if they’re hard to process for him. He relaxes and flips back to the front page, ready to look at the rest of your work with you.

Satan

Books were commonplace in his room. They were part of the furniture - quite literally, as they were piled up everywhere, even on top of his bed, although he’d made an effort to stop putting them there so long as you were spending time with him, so that you had somewhere comfortable to sit or lay whilst you were reading.

And yet, he always noticed when one was out of place, or when a new book had joined his collection without his knowing. Sometimes this happened because his brothers had found something interesting but weren’t willing to say aloud that it had reminded them of him, or that they bought it because he might enjoy it, so they’d simply popped into his room and added it to a stack. It was normal at this point.

That’s why he didn’t question it when there was a new book left on his bed, and when he didn’t hesitate to lay down and open it up, curious as to what story one of his brothers had left for him this time. Instead, he’s met with drawings. Amazing drawings of the Devildom, of his brothers... and of him.

There are notes, as well, few and far between, that allow him to place this as being your book. He knew that scrawl. He felt guilty to look through your sketchbook without your permission, but now that he’d already opened it, he was too curious to leave it be. He’d be honest about it later and deal with the consequences then, or joke about how you’d been drawing him without his permission so you were equal now.

The drawings were beautiful, more detailed that he’d seen for casual doodles left in a book without being shown to the subjects in them. He takes his time to look over each page carefully, each drawing filling his heart with something foreign, sweet and sticky like berry pie. He spends extra time focusing on each drawing of himself, wonders how and why you’d made him look so soft. It was hard for him to get portraits done as his presence could invoke anger in others and leave harsh and angry lines and brush strokes on the canvas, but clearly he didn’t have that same influence on you - instead, each drawing of him was more delicate than any of the others, like you’d put more effort in.

Satan returns it to you later, a smile on his face. He does apologise immediately, for looking at the drawings without your permission.

“Its alright. I’m just glad you found it for me.” You’re completely cheery, not bothered at all, and Satan sighs in relief.

“You’ve drawn me quite a lot,” he notes.

“Well obviously. I spend the most time with you,” you say, smiling when you catch the faint pout he covers up. That wasn’t what he had expected or wanted you to say, clearly. Nor was it all you had to say on the matter. “Also, you’re very beautiful. I wanted to try and capture that and keep a little for myself.”

He smiles now, content, and pats you on the head. “If you want me around, you only have to ask.”

Asmodeus

You’d been working away at something as he picked out an outfit and fixed his hair, and he’d been dying to ask but he just needed to adjust a few more strands first - you were going out to Majolish together and he wanted to look perfect. He always did, of course, but when the two of you were going out together he put in even more effort than usual.

When he finally finishes, he jumps up out of his chair and rushes over to you.

“How do I look?” he asks, beaming, full of confidence as always.

“Fabulous,” you say, reaching out to readjust a few strands of hair that had fallen out of place from his quick movements. He sits down on his bed beside you and pulls you up until you’re sitting beside him, hugging you around your waist.

“What were you doing whilst you were waiting? You looked so focused, it was adorable~” Asmo chirps, looking pointedly at the sketchbook. His eyes widen in genuine surprise. “Wait, is that me?”

You nod, lifting your sketchbook up so that the two of you could see it properly. You’d been drawing him, just little sketches as he flitted about the room doing this and that to get ready. You couldn’t have spent long on each one, and yet they captured him perfectly. He looked elegant in each, determined and beautiful.

You flicked back to the previous page before he could comment, and Asmo’s breath caught in his throat. This drawing was him, it was so brilliant an example of everything that he was. He was looking at you and smiling, and you’d captured the love and admiration in his eyes so perfectly he wondered if this was somehow a photograph.

Asmo tears up and hugs you tighter, burying his face against your neck. You can feel him smile wide against your skin. He stays like that for only a moment before his excitement bubbles up to the surface and he litters your cheek, nose, and forehead with feather-light kisses. He’d do anything for the one who saw him as he was.

Beelzebub

Beel had a pretty normal schedule for each day - he’d exercise, go to school, spend time with you and Belphie or his other brothers if they were around and alright with it, and of course, he’d eat quite a lot. You had a good idea of where he’d be throughout the day, and when you had the time for it, you’d accompany him so he wasn’t alone. Whether that meant sitting on the counter as he dug through the fridge, or laying on the sofa with your head in his lap and your feet in Belphie’s, you just liked to spend time with him.

And, a lot of the time, he noticed you had this little book with you. He’d caught you glancing at him many times, but didn’t think anything of it. He glanced at you a lot, too, so maybe it was only to be expected. He’d gotten used to the butterflies in his stomach when you two randomly linked eyes and you grinned, twirling your pencil around in your hand.

A lot of your time was spent together in relative silence, as well, and he was accustomed to hearing your pencil scratch against the paper. But he never asked what you were doing, because if you wanted to tell him you would. He trusted you to do that. And his trust paid off, when you were both watching a show together.

He notices early on that you're paying more attention to him than the screen, and when the episode finishes you tap him gently on the shoulder before stretching out your wrists. He looks to you, tilting his head in curiosity until you hold the book open in front of him.

It was a drawing of him, focused on the screen, odd lighting casting shadows against his form. He had something in his hand, some sort of food, but you’d put more attention into actually drawing him. So much attention that he was sure no matter how long he looked, there would always be something more to notice.

“Its me?” he asks, unsure lilt in his voice. He looks bashful, like he’s done something wrong. “Why?”

You stretch out your arms again, thinking, and finally answer, “Because you looked beautiful, and I wanted to draw you?”

It was neither easy nor hard to make Beel blush, and most of the time it just seemed to happen. You hadn’t caught onto the pattern yet, hadn’t been able to perfect it so that you could make it happen whenever you wanted. But you smile in silent victory now as his ears and cheeks flush a reddish pink, pairing nicely with his wide eyes.

His surprise gives way to a smile, and he leans over to wrap his arms around you, holding you close. All he can manage is a thank you, but with that you know how much he appreciates it, how much he appreciates you.

Belphegor

Belphie would often drag you off to the attic, and whilst he enjoyed the times where you would curl up in his arms and nap with him until you absolutely had to get up, he knew he couldn’t expect that of you constantly. You were still human, and you could only sleep so much before you had to get up to stretch or eat or just do something else to occupy your mind.

You’d built up a habit together, now, where if you wanted to get up you’d tap his arm twice and he’d reluctantly let you go. He’d stay awake if you left the room, just enough so that he’d be able to tell when you returned. If you didn’t, he’d have to go seek you out again by himself to drag you back with him and absolutely not just to make sure you were okay. If you did return, he’d go back to sleep and let you do what you wanted, opening his arms up if you tapped on them again to crawl back into his grip. It was peaceful, and though he never said it aloud, he loved it.

Often times, when he did wake up, you’d be sitting nearby in a little bundle of pillows and blankets that you’d made with a book and pencil in hand. You were quick to notice when he woke up, so Belphie could never just watch you to figure out what you were doing, which frustrated him to no end but at the same time it was nice to be known. Still, he was determined to figure it out.

His determination is unnecessary, because one day he wakes up and you’re looking straight at him, smiling contentedly. He woke up too fast, then, heart pounding as he tried to remember that expression. Did you admire him so much to look at him like that, even when he was just sleeping?

“You’re awake,” you say, voice light and cheery.

“And you were watching me sleep, as always,” Belphie scoffs, pulling the blanket up over his face to cover up his blush. “What’s new?”

You pout and stick out your tongue at him, and he lowers the blanket enough to return the gesture. It was hard to remember just how old he was when he acted like that.

“With good reason,” you tell him. He raises an eyebrow, and you smile and hold out your sketchbook. He takes it immediately, trying to act nonchalant as he opens it up and flicks through the pages. You barely catch how his eyes widen, how his breath catches and he slows down, taking in each drawing carefully.

“There are... a lot of drawings, of me sleeping,” Belphie says, swallowing, raising the book enough to try to cover his smile. Too late, you think. You’d caught him.

“You look cute like that. Plus, its the only time you sit still enough for me to draw you.”

“Or you’re just that obsessed with me. Weirdo.” He closes the book and hands it back to you, sitting up to stretch. He keeps his eyes on you, notices when you frown the tiniest bit. Was his teasing too much?

He sighs and slides out of bed, sitting in your pile beside you. He leans against you, like a cat looking for attention without wanting to admit it, and takes your hand in his, playing with your fingers.

“Thanks, MC.”

#surprise request! i felt like writing and it just all kind of flowed out with this one #Anonymous #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #my headcanons #my writings #fluff #i had a lot of fun writing this ashdashj even tho i only did bc i couldnt sleep ;u;

786 notes · View notes

bonelessghoul · 3 years

Text

Until My Last Breath

requested by: @just-deka

summary: A heartrender in the rankings of the Crows and with an unspoken relationship with Kaz Brekker finds herself in trouble during a heist when there is a run in with the Dime Lions. When Kaz fights his way in to get her out of the mess it became, the two end up trapped and fighting for their lives. But in their last moments, the truth comes out.

note: LMAO THIS WAS THE BEST WAY I COULD SUM UP THE REQUEST, but I was genuinely panicking at the end of this hoping this turned out the way you wanted it to!! Hope you enjoy :)

If you knew your life was going to end, what would you do? That would be a fun question to answer, but not if you only had minutes to live. Maybe hours. Hours was too optimistic though, and they realized that if they weren’t found soon, then the light in their eyes would be put out forever.

It was pure misery and bliss all at once as they stared at each other, the crushing weight of the rubble they were trapped under causing a flicker of fear deep in their stomachs. The things they wanted to say to each other could wrap around the world twice, but they settled with an endearing yet pained look only they knew with nothing but the space between their fingerprints reaching out to one another. It hurt to be so close and unable to touch.

If you had minutes to live, who would be the last face you’d want to see?

The chandeliers spaced throughout the high ceiling of the Crow Club gave a vintage touch with its dim light, making the deep red curtains around the room seem darker and masking the daylight from the outdoors. But tucked away in the second story was Kaz Brekker’s office. It was his solace away from the clamor of the club that was only muffled from where he sat hunched over his desk.

The midday crowd was already filling the club to the brim from the booths to the game tables and every space in between.

But one figure slipped through it with ease, weaving in and out in a fresh white blouse, cinched in the middle and sleeves like balloons like an angel. It was like clockwork when you would find your way up the stairs to the office, bypassing the allure of the liquor and games Jesper engorged himself with. You were busy back in your room at the Slat, tinkering with new scraps of the latest mechanics you dug for, but like you said; your arrival was like clockwork.

Kaz, glancing at his pocket watch, stared as the thin needle of a hand rolled around the center point and as if on cue, he found YN breezing through the door with a breath of relief from squeezing through the crowd. His office smelled like remnants of firewood, the freshly brewed coffee he had filling the air. While the daylight was hidden in the club downstairs, a window was opened allowing a cool breeze and the cloudy skies to find their way into this massive space which also held a small bedroom.

As a Heartrender, you would never admit to the way Kaz’s heart would pick up whenever you were near.

“Morning.” you greeted, a handful of mail sent for him to the Slat in your hands as you crossed the space between the door and his desk.

Offering him the small stack and he took it, the shadows under his eyes seeming darker today. You were always up before the sun when your mind could not stop thinking of a new idea, and more often than not, you’d hear Kaz sneaking out in the early morning without a word.

“It’s afternoon.” he said, slyly glancing up at her as his gloved hand took the papers.

With your hands free, you sat yourself upon the very corner of his desk and looking down at the two cups of coffee still topped off with steam, one cup significantly lighter than the other. Smiling contently to yourself, you wrapped your hands around the mug and picked it up to your lips.

“Hope you got it right.”

Kaz glanced up once more as he sorted through the letters.

His eyes flickered over you for a moment, pausing from what he initially wanted to say and you could hear his heart beat in your ears as it skipped.

“Don’t worry, I made it sickening sweet.” Kaz mused, heaving a sigh as he leaned back in his chair.

“Good, I’ll slip slowly and waste more time here then.” you chuckled lightly.

You would be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy sitting on his desk, sharing a cup of coffee and hearing him rant as he read the bills, the offers from others, imported goods, the bank statements, and everything else that came with the stress of running a club, not to mention an entire gang. There as a guilty pleasure as a Heartrender that involved enjoying just how flustered became down to a cellular level , but her relationship with Kaz was different; being a Heartrender taught her how much she could push and how to know when to stop pushing given his complicated boundaries.

Admittedly, as indifferent as she made herself seem when it came to Kaz, had he been the Heartrender you would have been in trouble if he could hear your heart. Every time you saw his face at the end of a job, whenever he’d look at you as you sat like you did now, and even every little bit of your unique intimacy sent your heart racing.

It seemed there were many ways to love someone that didn’t involve touching, you thought to yourself, watching Kaz’s brows furrow in the slightest with every word he read with a bittersweet smile. But it hurt when she couldn’t hold his hand or feel his comforting arms at the end of the day.

“So, what’s on the agenda today?” you asked, clearing your throat. “Things have been awfully quiet lately.”

Kaz smirked, snickering lightly to himself as he looked up at her.

“We don’t say the words quiet around here because next thing you know, it won’t be so quiet and our hands will be full with trouble.”

You raised your brows. “Well, is something coming our way?”

The look on his face confirmed it all. A simple job was offered to the Crows and a select few Dregs of his choosing (but Kaz would tell you to round up those best for it anyway), to steal a vintage piece of jewelry just brought to Ketterdam’s historic society display room. It was a job within a job, for the person requesting this jewelry and its unique elemental composition worth hundreds of thousands, it was the key to a bigger job after this which they hoped to secure.

“They have a pretty tight security system.” You sighed, holding up the blueprints he pulled out in front of you.

“Perhaps, you can figure it out in a more spacious area than the corner of my desk.” Kaz frowned, looking away as his chin rested in his palm. Then, only his eyes moved towards her. “I’m leaving the tight security system to you because you’re the only one who is creative enough to get by them. Inej scouted every entrance and found the source of the security system’s mechanics.”

It seemed easy, nothing you hadn’t come up with before, and an idea was already forming in your head to your excitement.

“Tinker around, get the ancient necklace, and a boat load of kruge.” You said simply, your voice only wavering in the slightest as your eyes narrowed at just how intricate the alarm system was.

Kaz stood up from his seat, taking the maps from her to wrap up and slide away in its casing.

“You should be on your way. Best to get a quick start so we can be in and out tonight.” Kaz said, handing her the cylinder casing for the blueprints.

“Oh, I’d sit here all day of you let me.” you grinned, earning an eye roll from him.

“Go.” Kaz pressed, his face more asserting now, trying to hide his own smirk.

But even as you strolled out the door, you could hear his heart rate jumping. Kaz’s eyes didn’t leave your figure on the way out, still staring out into space after the door shut. He leaned over his desk with his palms pressed into the wooden edge and his head dropped with a sigh.

Kaz Brekker was in trouble and his little Heartrender already knew.

There was a slightly calmer hour to be found at the Crow Club between the midday crowd leaving and night crowd slowly taking its place. In that time, you found yourself sitting at a booth and sinking into the curved red velvet seating.

You were sketching out a tool that will silence the alarm mechanisms that you had been reading up on for the past two hours. Time was running slow and your back began to ache from the position you barely moved from as you dug the lead into the parchment.

“Hey, YN! How’s it—”

“Jesper!”

Your hands frantically waved him off as his palm came down on your sprawled out pile of sketches and he jumped back, staring at you with wide eyes.

“Sorry, sorry.” You said, piling up the previous sketched of the tool you were designing, the exhaustion clear in your skiddish movements. “I have just been trying to wrap my head around this job tonight.”

Jesper smoothly slid into the booth, sitting next to you with eyes scanning over the maps. From behind, Inej approached them and slid into the booth from the other side and now, both Crows were perched upon her shoulders and looking at her work.

“The historical society in the Geldestraat is no playground.” Inej sighed.

“Oh, it’s a playground for sure, just one with little landmines at every step and Stadwatch at every corner. Then, it’s a race to the last swing on the swing set and that is our prize at the end of tonight.” Jesper ranted, his hands flailing as he spoke.

By the time he was done speaking, you and Inej stared at him, speechless.

“You must have been the child that was always bullied at playgrounds, weren’t you?” you muttered, turning your head back to the blueprints. “It’s one of the most complex, yet easiest security systems we’ve had to break into. If the necklace is on display in the spot you say it is, Inej, then this window here is our best bet.”

“Best bet for what?” Inej asked, looking at her quizzically.

Grinning, you held up the drawing of a box no bigger than your hand, the inner workings of your mind scribbled across the page.

“The window has about 5 seconds from the moment it’s opened all the way before it starts setting off an alarm which has a domino affect on the other alarms. It’s a system of bells and the window we’re going through is the start of the system. If I can forge this box to the right dimensions of the window and the string that is triggered from the window opening, then we will have a few minutes before it breaks, and the bells signal any Stadwatch in the area.”

Jesper scoffed. “Then don’t build a little tool that is going to break.”

Your hands ran over your face and instantly, you swatted at his shoulder.

“My work is impeccable, but that string is thin and ready to snap, it’s why they used it so that when the window opened, it would cut it and set off the bells.”

“Oh!” he said slowly, coming to the realization as his lips formed an o.

Even as you spoke of your plan as easily as floating down a stream, it was too good to be true. There were a dozen other factors you haven’t considered yet that made this all the more tricky. In theory, it sounded simple but getting through the window and setting up the tool in time was critical, not to mention getting to the lower level of the museum and back in time before the bells go off.

Leaning on your elbows, your shoulders sunk just a little as your mind continued to pour over the plan.

“I have to be efficient. I say we get a few minutes, give or take another fifteen minutes tops, to make it to the necklace and back without a single peep.”

Jesper glanced at Inej who was standing beside you now and looking it all over.

“Can you do that Inej?”

Immediately, the girl shook her head.

“I may be the most graceful here, but I’m surprisingly not the fastest.”

You didn’t pay any mind to the attention being shoved on you. While you wouldn’t admit it, you’ve already been thinking of it all afternoon and it left your stomach in knots.

“I’ve been walking through this all afternoon.” you sighed, a hint of defeat in your face. “Partially, I feel like taking our chances by taking these jewels in broad daylight.” you half joked.

Suddenly, your hearing focused in on a heart that almost had a third pound through his chest from the cane who always wore. That and his heartbeat both resounded through Kaz’s body with such strength, but, even when you expected him to be near, you didn’t expect him behind the booth sending the three of you with the Saints.

“We do not have the luxury of stealing things in broad daylight, YN.” Kaz said, startling everyone out of their own skin, looming over their shoulders until they he was in front of the table. “We got the jump on this before anyone else, there is no other time to do this but tonight so you all have to be ready.”

You looked up at him, slightly taken back at how high strung he was over this job, his own stressed soul infecting theirs. His eyes scanned over the three of them and then, fell on yours, but you were already looking at the hard lines in his face accentuated by his frown.

Nodding, you tore your eyes away from him and got back to work.

This job was going to break a sweat out in all of them before it even started.

“This one won’t explode, yes?” Kaz asked you.

Frowning at him, you waved the contraption you built in an hour Iin the air.

“Look, I know the last one did but this was a simple put together of a few different pieces. See, if you just-'

Kaz put his hand up with an exasperated look, signaling you to stop the demonstration you tried to put on by showing him the inside of your invention.

The two or you stood by one of the street level windows to the small brick building, it’s window panes and shutters painted black, and on this little side street there was no light that found its way here except the faint blue moon above their heads. Kaz had just unlocked the windows, and he stood there just inches away before he would open the window and you’d crawl in, having to be quick.

As you looked at him, you almost couldn’t distinguish who’s heart was racing faster.

Every time you tried to think of your path to the second story where the famous necklace was on display, your thoughts kept getting scrambled.

“Be fast, but not sloppy and get back here in one piece with that jewel in your hand.” Kaz said, his voice not missing a confident beat.

You nodded, smiling reassuringly and your hands nervously straightened the flaps of his wool jacket and you took a shaky breath.

“Got it. Open it up.”

With his cane, Kaz stepped towards the window and gave you one last look as you prepared to jump from the crate and through the opening. Even the first story was a bit of a height difference from the street, but you were quick and had the jumping skill set needed.

Kaz nodded at her and without a moment to waste, Kaz opened the window and you sprinted in, your foot pressing into the crate, pushing off of it and your hands clutching the windowsill to guide you in with ease. There was only a few seconds left and you leaped up to the top of the window, watching as the string that held together their alarm system was growing taught and with your heart pounding, your arm shot out to grab it before it snapped and finally, you could let out a breath or relief.

“Did it work?” Kaz asked, peaking his head through the window

Your tongue was peaking through your lips as you focused intently on wrapping the string in your contraption without moving it too much, settling it against the window secured in place like it were a second addition to big metal box against the wall that was the start it.

“YN!” he hissed.

You shushed him, beads of sweat forming at your temples, slowly leaning back as you released your invention that would keep the string in place, everything seemingly more quiet than normal.

That was good though, the silence being a sign that it was working.

Leaping down, you faced Kaz on the other side of the window and smiled at him, giving a wave of the hand in the form of a salute.

“See ya in a minute.”

Kaz grinned at you, but you turned and ran before you could hear him say a word.

The historical society was an old mansion, when they were a little smaller back in the day, converted into a museum. The hardwood floors and floral carpets were the original, the walls having been painted over a baby blue and hung with artwork that dated before Ketterdam was even recognized on the map. Everyone believed they were copies though.

You came out to the front entrance, a massive open space with a chandelier made of diamonds that sparkled and cast sharp little reflections around the room from the moon that shone in through the window above the tall double doors.

Holding your breath, you slowly looked around, not a single sound or movement to be made.

It was clear and you were set to take off up the stairs, careful not to place your hand along the railing. At the top of the stairs, it split into two hallways but you need not worry about which one to go down because the jewels were sitting in a small case, overlooking the home. They were meant to be in a room down the hall, having yet to be put on display, but it seems your job just got easier.

With a devious, proud grin across your lips, you looked at the ember colored jewels sat into the heavy golden necklace, and even you had to take a moment to admire it’s beauty as if there was a fire burning in each and every individual stone. But, you glanced at the pocket watch you had stolen from Kaz years ago and knew you only had a minute of assurance that the alarm wouldn’t go off before you had to run back

With gloved hands, you lifted the glass boxand plucked the jewel out from it.

In one swift move you placed the glass back and turned around, ready to bolt down the stairs, but two gunshots shattered your senses and while you couldn’t understand why at first, you were sent hurdling down the stairs with no control of your body.

Kaz was growing impatient standing in the alleyway, anxiously checking his watch, counting down the minutes. It shouldn’t have taken this long, and he knew that you knew that as well. Maybe they hid the necklace after the museum closed or maybe they haven’t even had the chance to put it out yet, but Kaz was not looking forward to having to jump to their plan B.

“Dammit, YN" he hissed, glancing through the window into the dark hallway.

But the sound of guns being fired sent him in a frenzy and without waiting a second, Kaz climbed through the window fearing the worst.

By the time you landed, rolling to a stop, the wind had been knocked out of you, pain started surging through your backside from your left hip to right shoulder blade, and left you dizzy and gasping for air. Still clutched in your hands was the necklace, and you tried to focus on how many heartbeats were in the room, but you couldn’t concentrate with the pain you were in.

“Lock her up, she’s a Heartrender.” said a man with a thick Kerch accent that sent her stomach in knots.

“No.” you painfully gasped, trying to bring your hands together.

But one boot came stomping down on the wrist that held the necklace and your screamed out in pain as your shattered bones grinded against. Suddenly, your numb fingers could no longer find the golden chain as it was taken from your hands in Pekka Rollins came into view.

“I’ll be taking that, darling. Thanks for doing the work for us!”

As Pekka stood over you, his shadowed face looking down at you with a horrid grin that made your blood boil. Your hand was shaking as you tried to bring them together, but he waved his finger in front of your face.

“Don’t even try it or a bullet will be put in your head the moment you even move a muscle.” he threatened.

At the sound of a cane smacking into a man’s skull, your head sharply turned as you lay on the ground, watching Kaz storm into the room and begin fighting the Dime Lions that charged at him.

“Kaz, no!” you cried out, your heart nearly lurching from your chest.

It was only moments before two of them seized Kaz, bringing him down on his knees. Tears pricked your eyes as you watched them relentlessly dig their fists into every part of his body, his head refusing to fall in defeat.

“What a surprise, Mr.Brekker.” Rollins taunted, strolling over to him. “I worried you might have been here before we were when your little Wraith hijacked our meeting with the buyer, but I figured, why not sit back and let you do the work for us?”

Kaz glared up at Pekka, his eyes flickering to you as you lay there, a gun pointed to your head at the hands of another Dime Lion and you watched his face drain of all its color.

“Not her.” Kaz said unconsciously, the words passing through his lips like he were thinking out loud.

That was their first mistake.

“I didn’t know the Dregs at a Heartrender in their rankings.” Pekka said, observing Kaz’s faulty eyes, glancing back at you with a smug grin. “That sounds a bit like cheating.” But then, he shrugged and his head rolled back to Kaz. “Bah, what do I care? She won’t make it much longer, but you? If you manage to crawl out of this mess, I might have a little more respect for ya.”

You didn’t know what mess Pekka Rollins was referring to, but your backside was already aching, blood seeping through your clothes now as you lay on the cold floor.

Kaz was writhing in their grips, bloody murder written across his face as he seemed to make his way out of one of their grasps and just as you thought he would have won, a gun shot rang through the air and made you jump.

Despite all the pain, you watched as Kaz crumpled to the ground and your body instantly shot up, wincing as Pekka kicked him in the face. But another shot resounded through the air, and you collapsed back on the ground with your hand still reaching for him, your leg now feeling useless as the bullet lodged itself in your calf. You watched as Kaz roll in his back, face contorted with pain.

The tears began to fall and you lay there, looking at him, waiting for his eyes to open and look back at you.

“Let’s leave, boys. Blow the place on the way out.”

That order sent a chill through your body and you helplessly watched them walk away.

“Kaz…” you weakly croaked out, watching him begin to prop himself up, one hand holding his stomach. “Kaz, we need to go.”

As you tried to shuffle towards him, every muscle in your body screaming with pain, you were only inches away from your fingertips reaching the lapels of his coat. Kaz looked at you, his eyes wide, but the moment he reached out for you, a blast shook the entire building and the last thing you saw was the walls crumbling down around you.

“YN!”

The voice was muffled, just barely heard over the ringing over your ears. Slowly, your eyes blinked open, and you couldn’t feel a thing as you watched the dark blue twilight sky above your head. It was almost peaceful, the sky lightening ever so lightly that you could make out the thick clouds that were almost black against the backdrop of the sky.

But then, the sharp scent of smoke that clouded your lungs and the irony taste of blood in your mouth took you away from your blissful moment and thrusted you into one of sheer panic as it crawled up your spine.

“YN!”

The ringing stopped and you could hear the cackling of flames and rubble grinding against each other now, turning your head to see Kaz.

Soot streaked his face; the panic you felt now visible in his widened eyes and the way his lips hung open like he was staring at a ghost. Your hands were merely inches from each other now and all around, the ceiling lay in shambles, the chandelier at your heads spreading its little diamonds across the space between you two. For a moment you wonder if that was what spared you two from the wood and stone that lay around you, but when you looked, you see that wood was piercing your thigh and the door lay over your ankle.

“Kaz.” you said shakily, looking back at him.

It was amazing how you couldn’t feel a thing, but that was probably good.

You two stared at each other, panting and clearly at a loss of what to do, except all you two could do was look at each other.

It was pure misery and bliss all at once as you stared at each other, the crushing weight of the rubble they were trapped under causing a flicker of fear deep in their stomachs. The things they wanted to say to each other could wrap around the world twice, but they settled with an endearing yet pained look only they knew with nothing but the space between their fingerprints reaching out to one another. It hurt to be so close and unable to touch.

If you had minutes to live, who would be the last face you’d want to see?

“Don’t look at my like that, YN.” Kaz grunted, trying to pull himself up. “Don’t look at me like you’re going to die.”

The bruises scattered across his face and the blood that soaked through his shirt were clear as day, but he seemed unphased as he tried to move closer.

You faintly smirked at him, feeling a trickle of blood from the corner of your lip.

“I think only you could look like an angel even when a building exploded around us.”

Kaz saw you smile through the pain, and every effort to be strong he tried to put up was whisked away by the look on your face as his shoulders fell. He could have collapsed back to the floor, letting the sleep take him away, had it not been for the way you smiled at him. Of course, he was in pain too, but it was insurmountable to the pain caused by the sight before him. His heart raced, wondering just how he would manage to drag the two of you out of this as his own limbs grew weary and tired from trying to sit up.

“I think you should get a demo man, Jesper always wanted one.”

Kaz, exhaled, letting out a brief chuckle.

“Why should I when half of your inventions explode anyway? We’ll have plenty more to come.”

There was a tinge of fear to his voice, hidden by the hope that you would make it til morning, and you could hear it; he didn’t want to lose you. He couldn’t let Pekka Rollins take someone else from him, even if it meant waiting until his last breath to take his life.

You rolled your eyes at him, the pain slowly starting to return as you gazed at the ceiling.

You kept your heart beating, your blood flowing, but you tried to pull yourself closer to Kaz only to sink back into the floor with defeat and suddenly, your chest started to rise and fall quicker. This couldn’t be it. You were stronger than this. You had to survive—if not for the Crows, but for him. Perhaps, you were being too hopeful after all.

“Kaz.” you croaked out, looking back at him with the tears threatening to pour out of your eyes.

“YN, we will be okay.” he said, his voice stern as if he could read your mind.

Suddenly, when he was within reach, you clasped his gloved hand and forced as much life into him as you could, watching him become caught off guard as his heart began to race.

“No.” he pleads.

Kaz tried to pull away, but you wouldn’t let him.

“You need to conserve your energy. We need to get out of here before the Stadwatch find us in the middle of this.”

“I’m saving you so you can save the both of us!” you argued, using his hand to pull yourself a little closer, both of you straining to bring yourselves together. But you paused for a moment, trying to catch your breath. “One of us needs to make it out of here tonight and I’m the only one who can make sure of it.”

Kaz finally pulls his hand away, and you watch him fight against everything that brought him down to sit up, leaning his back on the heavy chandelier and the remnants of the ceiling that supported it. He shut his eyes for a moment, and you watch the connection between you break as he becomes overly drained, still thinking desperately of a way out of this. As he sat there, you too fought against the pain coursing through every nerve of your body, the bullets lodged within you taunting your beaten soul as you tried to sit yourself up too. The cracked bones in your wrist made you gasp when you tried to put pressure on it, but you fought through it for one last push as you sat yourself up against the chandelier just a foot away with him.

“I cannot leave here alone. I can’t go back if you’re not with me.” Kaz said slowly, his head turning to you.

Now that you two were closer to each other, you could see just how hurt he was.

You opened your mouth to speak, ready to grasp his hand again, but blood spattered through your lips as you coughed it up.

Black spots danced across your vision, and you slowly start to fall over.

Kaz’s breath hitched, and his arms moved before he could even think to do so, dragging you towards him.

The moment you felt his arms around you, you came back to your senses, looking up at him from where your head lay on his chest.

“Kaz, you don’t—”

“I-I have to.” He says, shuddering slightly.

Kaz’s mind could not seem to push away the suffocating feeling your touch brought, and he found himself looking away, trying to fight off the horrifying memories of the ocean swallowing him whole.

But he squeezed you tight, all flesh and bone still warm with life, trying to push out the gruesome images of his last memories with Jordie. You were alive in his arms, and he wouldn’t live to see the day you weren’t despite their odds right now.

For so long, you dreamed of the day Kaz could hold your hand, even let his knuckles brush by yours. But you never thought this is how it would go.

“It’s because I’m dying, isn’t it?”

Yes.

Kaz looks down at you, already accepting the defeat of the night, and he is almost too horrified to speak as your eyes seemed calmer now than from the second you finally regained consciousness.

“It’s because—”

He pauses, looking away from you and you hang on to every word.

The only thing he wanted to do was hold you, hating himself for never doing it sooner.

“It’s okay, Kaz.” you smile sadly. “There was going to be a day when I’d watch you all grow old and leave me, but if I don’t make it through this, at least I won’t have to watch that happen.”

There was a million things you could say, a million things you built up for years since the day you saw him. In all that time you never imagined it all coming down to this and you were just so tired, but you wanted to hear him say the words.

“But I want to hear you say it.” You said, your voice growing quiet.

No matter how much you tried to justify letting go, you didn’t want to. Your heart beat for him as you looked up at him and all you wanted to do was hear him say those words.

As your eyelids became heavy, you tried to focus on the way your heart beat alongside his, pressing your hand against his chest so that you could fight for the two of you, but his heart was already racing. You loved the sound of it, remembering every time you would hear it jump the moment you stepped into a room.

“I’m afraid we don’t have enough time for me to hold you and tell you the words you want to hear.”

Kaz was fighting for his life and his urge to finally tell the truth about everything. The way he hated when you’d sit on his desk, play with his jacket when there was a slight hair out of place, and he hated how even now you were fighting to keep both of you alive. But there was the way he loved watching you outwit everyone of the Dregs when they played at the tables, the way he loved when you’d doze off in his office after a long day of working with your tools and so much more he hated himself for only paying attention to now.

“Are you going to make me do everything?” you ask, weakly smiling, hiding your face as your hot tears stained his chest.

You could feel him smile, and you could also feel your energy draining by the second.

“I love you, Kaz. Until my last breath.” you said, fearing this would be your last.

The words were on both of their minds, yet, Kaz couldn’t wrap his head around it and when you said it, his lips parted ever so slightly, staring ahead at the rubble as if that was the biggest shock to come of the night. Those words were foreign to him, they belonged to a shell of who he was and he couldn’t allow himself to accept it. His heart ached though, almost wanting to hear it again from your lips.

But then, when his heart suddenly slowed and he felt your hand leave his chest, Kaz looked down at you in a panic.

“YN…” he whispered urgently.

“I’m here.” you murmured; your eyes closed.

It felt so nice to shut them for a moment.

Kaz looked down at you, everything in him spinning, and he was ready to march you out of here now to get help but even then, as he tried to move, the pain in his body kept him grounded. Sighing in defeat, he smacked his head against the back of the chandelier and rubble he leaned upon, wanting to scream or yell and curse the world for making him so weak. His mind lingered back to the waters, Jordie’s molted and rotten skin at his fingertips, while he kicked back to the harbor swimming against all odds.

“I love you too, YN.” he said, the words cutting through the silence around them.

Deep down, he didn’t want to say the words out loud, knowing they might be the last he says to you. He yearned for more time to love you, to stroke the hair off your face as he did now as the corner of your lips turned upwards.

It made him forget to breathe as he frantically searched around, wondering if there was a way out.

But the exhaustion was tearing him apart and he looked down at you one last time, the smile off your face as your head rolled slightly.

It wasn’t long before his eyes closed too.

“I found them!”

The Dregs were scouring the rubble after they heard the explosion from the rendezvous point, Jesper and Inej running back after seeing that the two of you never made it.

When the pair heard one of the Dregs call out, the pair exchanged a worried look before pushing through the remnants of the mansion. They feared they would find your mangeled bodies waiting for them, but they skidded to a halt when they saw something else entirely.

Jesper’s face fell, as Inej’s hand clamped over her mouth, watching as Rotty checked their pulses, the man’s hands shaking as they checked.

“They’re still breathing!” Rotty shouted with relief. “Let’s move them out of here, they’re hurt pretty bad.”

But Inej and Jesper could not move just yet, staring with teary eyes from the overwhelming release of the weight on their shoulders. You sat curled up alongside Kaz, his arms wrapped around you, holding so tightly they could have swore he turned to stone.

There was no time to waste though, and they ran to you and Kaz to drag the two of you out to safety.

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker x you

146 notes · View notes

duskholland · 4 years

Text

The Fame Game (Part Nine) - Tom Holland

Summary ↠ Breaking up is hard. But breaking up with your fake boyfriend, with whom you’ve fallen irrevocably and painfully in love with? It’s almost impossible.

Warnings ↠ Angst, Y/N’s being stubborn but can we blame her? Cursing and crying. All the good stuff.

Word count ↠ 5.2k

A/N ↠ This part? Emotional rollercoaster and a half. We’re almost at the end of the story, though! :((( Only part ten and the epilogue to go, and I am not okay. Crazy crazy crazy. Anyway, buckle in and enjoy part nine :)

NINE: Expiration Date (Y)

It’s raining in London. Tracks of grey, miserable water stream down the dirty window, obscuring the view of the city beyond. Your fingers are cold as you hold a mug of stale tea, the liquid pale and long-past its best. You’d poured it an hour ago, intending to throw it back and pull yourself out of your stupor, but you’d failed.

Today is the end of your relationship with Tom - the expiration date, as your team likes to call it. In a move of obscene pathetic fallacy, the weather curled across London seems to emanate your innermost thoughts. It’s cloudy and grey, darkness settled across the sky. In the distance, the clouds grow blacker, and a part of you wonders if it’ll thunder later.

You feel a tear slip from one of your eyes, and the warm line traces down your cheek as you sniffle. With slow movements, you finally put down the mug, crossing your arms over your chest as you continue to stare out of the window, vacantly. You’re in your London flat, your belongings in boxes around you. With the conclusion of a final filming project comes the end of your lease, and when you leave London tonight on a plane, you leave behind your flat, your job, and your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend.

Your fake boyfriend, who sometimes acts like your real boyfriend, but has made it all too clear that he is only, only, only your fake boyfriend.

A scowl springs out across your face, and your fingers curl into fists at your sides.

You thought you’d been hurt by Tom before. For years, you’ve felt anger towards him - resentment, irritation, burning frustration. You’ve cursed him out on countless occasions, publicly denounced him, and watched on as he’s returned every move you’ve made against him with equal ferocity. At almost every given opportunity, Tom has launched blow after blow at you, but you’d taken it. You had accepted that that was just your relationship - that sometimes two people don’t get along, and sometimes they thrive off irritating the other. His insults didn’t touch you - not really, not like this. They’d riled you up and they’d made you seethe, but they were just insults - just empty, irritating insults, which you’d returned with a smile on your face. But now…

For the first time, Tom Holland has actually broken your heart.

It’s painful when you think about him, as you cast your mind back to your last day together. You’d been so excited, so hopeful, when you’d turned up at his place in LA, and as he’d laid you down and you’d held one another, you’d felt the love you have for him grow. Each time he’d kissed you, you felt your love deepen. Each pass of his hands over your skin made your heart race, your mind shake. You’d been waiting on the right time to open your mouth, say the three golden words, and then propose giving your relationship a real shot, only for Tom to jump the gun and tell you that he, in fact, loved you.

To have Tom stand opposite you and tell you that he loves you - only to immediately follow it up with a retraction - has shattered you. You can’t stop thinking about the moment that you’d let yourself believe, for one brief, shocking second, that Tom reciprocated your love - that Tom had softened out, and grown to love you, too. His words had knocked you off-guard, but fuck, if they weren’t the sweetest three words you’d ever heard. You’d been fully prepared to drop everything and jump into his arms, only for him to add--

“No… Wait, no.”

You are upset. You are so fucking angry. You are a whirlwind of tears and clenched fists and stiff jaws. The more you contemplate it, the hollower you feel. You have never known heartbreak as pronounced as this.

You hate the power that you’ve given Tom. Hate that you’d walked straight into this, eyes open. You can’t even blame it on blind infatuation, because you’d been aware at every moment how dangerous your budding feelings were, just you’d chosen to ignore the warning signals, too distracted by Tom’s easy smile and his kisses. You hate that you let him break your heart, hate that he’s emerged from this unscathed when you feel the weakest you’ve ever been.

But above all, you hate that you don’t hate him. It would be so easy to slip back into old habits, to return to that blind, festering hatred that used to roar through your veins at the mere mention of his name. You can’t return to that, and every time you try to drum up some anger towards Tom, you’re instead reminded of how nice, and funny, and sweet he can be.

You release a shaky breath. It’s your expiration date, today. All that’s left of your relationship is a visit to Tom’s house to collect your things, and a few pap photographs of you leaving his place, in pieces. There’s no doubt in your mind that the paparazzi will find it convincing: you’ve been a mess for days, your tears will be real. You’re full of apprehension and rattled nerves about seeing him again, about walking back into his house knowing it’ll be the last time and having to act like he hasn’t reached into your chest and ripped out your heart.

You are an actor, to your core, but your role within this relationship has been your hardest performance to date - and you have the sinking suspicion that not even you can pull off the denouement.

The paparazzi are already outside Tom’s as you walk down his front path, raindrops bouncing off your jacket. The flashes from their cameras illuminate the garden, and your eyes hurt as the light glints off the collection of small garden gnomes Harrison and Tom keep in front of their house. You’re quick to drum your knuckles on the front door, tugging on the chords of your hood and trying to shy away from the yelling journalists.

After what feels an eternity, the door is opened. Tom stares out at you, eyes widening as he takes in the pouring rain.

“Shit, it’s wet today, isn’t it?” He mutters, quickly moving aside. You hurry into the house, sighing contentedly as the warmth envelops you. You kick off your shoes, but your fingers are frozen solid and you can’t quite tug the zip of your coat. “Do you need help?”

You glance up, seeing Tom eyeing your shivering fingers as you try and fail to release the slippery zip. “Yeah,” you mutter, quickly glancing away. It’s not your intention to stay long, but you’re not so inconsiderate that you’d traipse through Tom’s entire house in a dripping jacket.

You stay very still as Tom steps forward, one of his hands holding the bottom of your jacket as the other goes up to the zip. His tongue slips out between his teeth, and a deep crease appears between his eyebrows as he grasps the zip and carefully tugs it down. A smile splits over his face, and you sigh as the coat releases.

“There you go.” Tom doesn’t stop there, though. He goes so far as to help you wiggle out of the jacket, and even hangs it up on the peg for you. The same peg you’d used when you’d stayed with him a few months ago. Your peg. “So.” Tom rocks back on his feet, looking at you through narrowed eyes. “Why haven’t you been answering my texts?”

You clear your throat, crossing your arms over your chest. “What?”

“Y/N.” Tom steps a little closer, his eyes wide with hurt. “My calls, too. I really needed to talk to you.”

“Sorry,” you fib. You’re not sorry, not even one bit. Every time you’d watched your phone go through to answerphone, you’d felt a little stronger. “I’ve been busy.”

“Doing what?”

“Oh, you know. Stuff.”

Tom frowns at you. “Well, I needed to talk to you.”

“Yeah, you said that.” You clear your throat, shaking out your arms as you try to lighten the air between you. You hadn’t meant to come into your last encounter with Tom with so much hostility on your shoulders, but being so close to him again makes your chest ache. “Sorry,” you mutter. “What did you want to talk about?”

Tom nods his head. “Well, it’s… It’s complicated.” Now he’s hesitant, with reluctance clinging to his features. You feel irritation stir inside as you watch him fluster. All you want to do is get this over and done with, so you can leave his house before you start crying again. You don’t want to drag this out.

“Well, can we talk about it as I pack my things?” You ask, your voice clipping a little at the edges.

“Uh, yeah, I guess.” Tom moves out of the way, letting you into the main body of the house. “What do they want us to do, again?”

You bite your lip as you see the photograph that hangs from the wall in the hallway. It’s new, and it shows you, Harrison and Tom, laying out together on one of their sofas. You remember the night well: Harry had taken the picture, teased Tom for the way he’d got you wrapped up in his arms and refused to let go for the duration of the scary film you were all watching. On your other side is Harrison, glaring at you and Tom, mock outrage on his face. It was a good night - near the end of your trip to London, back when things were better.

“Did they send you a box?” You say, voice vacant. You can’t stop looking at the photo, at the way Tom has his face buried in your neck. You look so happy. “They want me to put all my stuff in a box. Apparently, paps just need to see me leaving with all of my things, and then they’ll get the picture.”

“Pretty simple, then?” Tom drops down to his knees, beginning to rummage in the cupboard under the stairs until he procures a big red box. “This is the one they sent.” He passes it up to you. “Will that be big enough?”

“Yeah. I only have a few things here, I think.”

“Cool. Do you want to start upstairs?”

“Why not.”

You feel awkward as you slowly climb the staircase. The air between you is unsettled, and you can tell Tom’s hurt that you’re clearly less than enthused to be here. Part of you wants to soothe him, but the other part wants to run, run, run.

“Harrison not here?” You ask as you walk past his empty bedroom. You enter their spare room, which you’d been crashing in back when you’d stayed, and quickly start pulling out the odd book and bottle you’d left. Management had instructed you to leave a few things back when you’d left, and now you understand why.

“Nah, Liverpool,” Tom says. “It’s just me.” He sits on the edge of the bed, watching as you quickly pile everything into your box. “Look, Y/N, can we please talk?”

“I’m listening.”

“No, no.” Tom stands up, and you freeze as he reaches out for your arm. The second his warm fingers touch your skin, a lump comes to your throat. “I need to- we need to talk.” You stay completely still, closing your eyes as you feel him slide his hand up your arm. His palm rests on your shoulder, weighted and familiar, and the contact makes your heart pang.

“What do you want to talk about, Tom?” You ask, voice hoarse. You keep your eyes shut. The scent of his cologne is so familiar it brings back the tightness in your chest. You aren’t sure if you’re so upset because this is the last time you’ll be together, or if it has more to do with the fact that you can’t look at Tom without being reminded that he doesn’t love you.

“Come and sit down. I can make tea.”

You suck in a deep breath. “You know that I’m walking out of your house in ten minutes and probably never coming back again, yeah?” You mutter. “What’s so important that it deserves a cup of tea?”

Tom only chuckles, not seeming to mind the bitterness of your voice. “I’ll tell you. Over tea.” He squeezes your shoulder, and you finally open your eyes. Your vision swims with tears, but if he notices it, he doesn’t comment on it. “You can pack your stuff up here, and I’ll meet you in the living room. Okay?”

You nod. “Alright.”

You try to delay your conversation for as long as possible, which takes you on a short trip into Tom’s bedroom. In your defence, you don’t mean to snoop - you did, in fact, leave your favourite book on his desk - but you do also take the opportunity to have a little look around.

On Tom’s windowsill is a line of very dead plants, their leaves shrivelled and broken. You roll your eyes as you peer into the empty watering can, chuckling softly. Typical. On his desk is a pile of scripts, dog-eared and stained with the round marks of spilt tea, and crumpled clothes hang everywhere, shoved over various armrests and laying in heaps on the floor. Tom’s entire room is organised chaos.

What catches your eye, though, is the large shelf hammered into the wall. You’ve been in Tom’s room before, hell, you’d spent your last night in London in his bed, but you’d never taken the time to look up and examine this shelf. Settled in the middle of it, gathering dust, is Tom’s BAFTA. You sigh, and instinctively, you reach up and take it.

It’s heavy in your hands. You’ve felt it before, but you’d forgotten the weight of the blue glass trophy. When you’d last touched it, it’d been on the night of the show, and Tom had thrust it into your hands mockingly, making some flippant comment about it being a mark of his success. You’d immediately tossed it back at him, almost dropping it in the process, and shut him down with a snide remark.

Now, you run your thumbs over the award. The curves are smooth beneath your fingertips. You blink a few times, and two tears splash out onto the thing. As you rub them away, you take a deep, shuddering breath.

Pull yourself together, Y/N.

You swallow, and when you release a deep exhalation, you feel steadier. The award goes back to the shelf, and you pick up your box. Just ten more minutes. One conversation, one cup of tea, and ten more minutes. Then you can leave him behind.

How much can change in ten minutes, anyway?

There’s something melancholic about the way you find yourself sitting on Tom’s sofa, facing him again. You’re in the same position that you were in back when you’d customised your shoes together, before everything had gone to shit: you, leaning up against one armrest, Tom against the other, both of you with your legs outstretched and meeting in the middle. Tessa has staked her claim sitting on your feet, and as you sip nervously at your tea, you keep your eyes on her.

“So.” Tom’s fidgeting. If he’s not drumming his fingers over the ceramic of his mug, he’s picking at the strap of his watch. “I need to talk to you.”

You wince a smile. “Yeah, you keep saying that.” You take a sip of your tea. It’s still hot, and it burns the tip of your tongue, but part of you wants to down the whole thing just so you can leave. Being so close to him makes your chest sting.

Tom takes a deep breath. “I said something really stupid the last time we were together. I was… I was just going to leave it, but then I realised that doing that would be even more stupid,” he starts. Immediately, you feel yourself bristle. You can’t have this conversation again.

“We don’t need to talk about it, Tom,” you mutter. “What’s the point? I’m leaving soon.”

“Which is exactly why we need to talk about it, love.” Tom’s eyes are wide, a hint of desperation swirling in them. He sets his tea down on the coffee table and sits up straighter. “I didn’t mean it.”

You sigh, rubbing at your forehead as you feel another stab of pain in your chest. He’s really twisting the knife, now.

“I know,” you remind him. “You’ve already told me that you didn’t mean it.”

“No, no.” Tom shakes his head, running a hand through his curls. “No.” He’s visibly anxious, but you’re too perplexed to consider offering him any comfort. “I mean… I said I didn’t love you. Well, I said I loved you, and then I took it back.”

You release a sound somewhere between a whimper and a groan, and it brings on a fresh set of tears. “Yes, I remember, Tom.”

“Well, I was wrong.”

Very slowly, you look up at him. You put down the tea and bring your knees to your chest, staring at him through hard eyes.

“What?” You say, voice dull.

“I was wrong. I shouldn’t have taken it back.” “Tom.” You’re exasperated and confused. “What are you trying to say?”

“I love you, Y/N. I’m in love with you.”

Your eyebrows pull together. “What?”

“I love you.” Tom’s lips quirk into a soft, warm smile. “And- And I know you probably don’t feel the same way, and you probably don’t want to hear it, but I had to tell you before you leave. You have to know how I actually feel.” He sits forward, and his foot nudges your knee. “I love you. I’m sorry for being a dick, I just… I panicked, I guess.”

Your brain feels like it’s running slow, wading miles behind the rest of you. You’ve spent so many days coming to terms with the fact that Tom doesn’t love you that the evidence for the contrary isn’t sinking in.

“What- but you said that you didn’t love me?” You puzzle.

“I was wrong.”

You look at him. You look at him long and hard. Your eyes dissect the soft smile on Tom’s lips, the eagerness in his eyes, and the blush on his cheeks.

You don’t believe him.

“How can you get something like that wrong?” You ask him, frazzled. “Tom, I- I don’t know if I can trust anything that you say.”

Tom raises an eyebrow. “So you want it to be true?”

“What? Shut up, this isn’t about me.” You have a lump in your throat. “Tom, this is- this is about you, not knowing how you feel.”

“But I do know how I feel. I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you-”

“Stop.”

You can’t take it. With every repetition, it feels like Tom’s rubbing it in your face.

“Y/N?”

You stand up from the sofa, displacing Tessa who whimpers in response.

“You’re so cruel, Tom.”

Tom scrambles to his feet too, hopping as he regains his balance. He stands in front of you. “What? What do you mean?” His eyes are wide with hurt. “I’m being honest, Y/N. How is it cruel to love you?”

Tears form in your eyes.

“You don’t get to take it back. You… First, you said that you loved me. Do you… Do you know how happy that made me?” You screw your hands into fists, voice hoarse. “I thought, for a second, that you loved me. I really, really did. I thought that we could end this stupid thing and just be happy. But then, you turn around, and you take it back. You’re not allowed to take back a declaration of love, Tom. Do you know how- how crushing that was?”

“-But-”

“No, I’m talking.” The end of your nose tingles, and you reach up to brush the wetness from your cheeks. “You… You broke my heart, Tom. Because I-” You break off, and you meet his eyes. You speak directly to him. You finally bare your soul. “I love you, Tom. I fell in love with you, and so for you to turn around and take it back-” You break off, waving a hand through the air. “It broke my heart.”

“I’m sorry.” His voice is raw, and you watch as Tom rubs at his eyes. “I didn’t know, Y/N.”

“How am I supposed to believe you?” You look at the floor, vision blurry. “How am I supposed to believe that you aren’t going to turn around in two minutes and take it back again?” You rub at your arms. “Why do you get all of the power?”

Tom steps closer, but you just move away. “Y/N, please. I don’t want to hurt you. I would never, ever want to hurt you. I was confused, but I know now more than ever how I feel about you.”

“But you have hurt me, Tom,” you say, finally looking back at him. “Our entire relationship has been us hurting each other. Why should it be any different now?”

Tom clasps his hands together, his cheeks red and ruddy. “We both know it’s different now.”

“Is it?” You release a dim laugh. “Because I feel, just now, exactly as horrible as I used to feel when we’d argue, Tom. All we’ve ever done is hurt.”

“That’s the past.” Tom’s voice is picking up now, growing in strength. When he looks at you, you see his jaw flexing. “I’m sorry for the ways I’ve acted, Y/N, but I can’t change it now. All I can tell you is that you’ll be making a bad decision if you walk out of the door.”

“I have to.” It’s too much to process - too much to think about when Tom’s looking at you so desperately. This morning you’d woken up expecting an awkward visit and then a plane ride far, far away from him. This revelation upends all of that.

“No, you don’t.” Finally, you let Tom take your hands. He runs his thumbs over the back of your palms and you whimper. “Stay. Stay here with me. Fuck PR, fuck the paps. We can be together. We can love each other.” He smiles again, softly. “Let me love you. Please.”

It’s very tempting. As Tom holds your hands tightly and stares into your eyes, you want so desperately to cave. You want to throw yourself into his arms and tell him that you love him, that yes, yes, of course you’ll stay with him. But you think back to all the tears that you’ve shed, and you look at his face, and you’re reminded of the night at the BAFTAs when he’d thrust his polished trophy into your face and bragged about it. You think about all of the times he’s made moves against you and tried to trip you up. You think about your last day together, and how easily he’d retracted his statement.

How can he stand here in front of you, and ask you to forget about all of that so easily?

“I can’t.”

You step away from Tom and instead grab your big red box. You walk quickly into the hallway, your eyes full of hot tears. He follows.

“Yes, you can.”

You sit on the stairs and start lacing up your shoes, staring at Tom angrily.

“I can’t.” Your fingers shake as you tie your laces. “I have a flight. I have a life in LA that I need to get back to. This was never part of the plan, Tom. You’re my fake boyfriend. You aren’t supposed to be my real boyfriend.”

“But you love me.” Tom’s blocking your way, his biceps bulging from his black t-shirt as he stands in front of you desperately. “You told me. You said that you love me, Y/N, and I’m telling you that I love you too.”

“Love isn’t always enough, Tom.” It hurts to look at him, to think about how easily and foolishly he’s handled your heart. “Let me go.”

“Love can be enough.” It’s his final attempt; you can see it in his eyes. “Don’t let us end like this, Y/N. Please.” He takes your hand, bringing your knuckles to his lips. His mouth moves over your skin, dropping kisses to your cold skin.

You feel trapped. You know the car is waiting outside, and it’s all come on too fast, too soon.

“Tom,” you say. You pull your hand from his grasp. “Let me go.”

Tom steps aside. He finally slumps against the wall, pressing his head into his hands. “Is this what you really want?” His voice is raw, broken, and his eyes are red.

You tug your soaking jacket from the peg on the wall as you shrug haplessly. “You can’t drop these feelings on me ten minutes before I’m out the door and expect me to change my life for you.” You look at him. “It isn’t fair.”

“Fine.” Tom stands up straighter. “You should take off your hoodie, then. It’s mine. Wouldn’t be the best impression of the paparazzi to be seen wearing my clothes, would it?”

You drop your jacket to the floor and start shuffling out of the pink hoodie. It’s an oversized fit, and it comes off easily, but you chuckle bitterly. Tom’s taken everything from you - your heart, your sanity - even the very clothes from your back. What more could he possibly want to take?

“There.” You shove it into his hands and angrily pull on your coat. The sleeves are cold and damp against your skin, making you shiver. “Happy now?”

Tom looks down at the jumper. “No,” he says, voice soft. His eyes are round again, widening further as you reach for the front door. “Y/N, please.”

Your fingers linger on the doorknob, cold to touch. You hesitate. When you glance back at Tom, your resolve crumbles. As frustrated and bemused as you are, you love him. You love him, and he’s your best friend, and you’re leaving him.

“Tom,” you whimper. You step away from the door, dodging the box, and fold into his arms, crying with your face on his shoulder. Tom’s arms wrap around your back and he pulls you in tightly. “I’m sorry.” You aren’t sure what you’re apologising for - your departure, your broken heart, your tears staining his shirt. You just know you are so overcome with every emotion that it’s overflowing now, leaving your mouth in ugly sobs.

“Shh.” Tom rolls a hand over your back, patting in large circles. Your jacket crinkles at the action, and you think you can feel his chest shake. “It’s okay.”

You stay in his arms, your face buried in his neck until you stop crying. Even then, you feel clogged up and weakened. He’s so warm - his embrace strong, and comfortable. You feel protected, and when you step back, you feel your heart break again.

“I’m sorry, Tom.” You wipe at your eyes and pick up the red box. Tom’s face falls in response. “I just… I need time. I’m not- I’m not saying that we can never be together, I just… I can’t stay just now. It’s too fresh, I don’t...”

“It’s okay.” Tom steps forward. One of his hands goes to the doorknob, the other rests on your shoulder. He’s near to you - so near that you can see the flecks of pain in his eyes and the freckles on his face. His gaze flickers down to your lips. “I can wait.”

You lean in and kiss him, softly. His lips taste of salty peppermint.

“I… I’ll see you later.” You want to say it, want to tell him so desperately that you love him, but the words choke in the back of your throat.

Tom just smiles, the action not stretching to his eyes. He tilts his head towards the door. “Are you ready?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

Tom looks at the box in your hands and reaches up. He tugs up the hood of your jacket and tucks your hair into it carefully. “Safe flight, darling.”

“Thank you.”

He opens the door and steps aside, and then you’re on your own.

London Heathrow Terminal 5 is very empty. You’re sitting alone in the back corner of the waiting room, hood drawn around your face, sunglasses resting heavily over your nose. You haven’t been able to stop shaking since you left Tom’s house. Feeling numb through bag drop, security, and duty-free, it’s a miracle you’ve made it to your gate on time.

You close your eyes, and you see him. You open your eyes, and you expect to see him. He’s everywhere.

Is this what you really want..?

It plays on loop, lilted in his voice. Is this what you really want? To be sat alone, crying in Heathrow airport, when Tom is waiting back at home, finally willing to take you into his arms?

You sniff as you wipe at your eyes, furiously trying to stem the flow of tears. It had all happened so quickly; it felt almost unfair.

Your phone vibrates in your pocket, and you’re grateful for the distraction.

Tom <3: Have a safe flight. I’m sorry for being such a dick. I know you don’t want to hear it, but I love you. I love you and I’ll wait for you. I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to figure it out. I love you. Xxxxxxxxxx

You put the phone down, sucking in a deep breath. Your eyes fall to your feet. You notice, for the first time, that you’re wearing your special personalised Converse.

With shaking hands, you pull off your sunglasses and stare at your feet. The ink has run a little, obscured by the pouring London rain, but you can still make out some of the shapes Tom had drawn over them, all those weeks ago. A love heart, a flower, a couple holding hands. The lump in your throat grows bigger.

Is this what you really want..?

“Now boarding, Flight BA0269, London Heathrow to LAX. We now invite our platinum club to board.”

You sigh. You stand up and pull your backpack over your shoulders. You look back at your feet.

The love heart is wobbly and uneven, and you remember the look of concentration on Tom’s face as he’d tried his best to doodle over your shoes. The room had been so warm, back then. Just the two of you, together, finding comfort in one another’s company. It’d been simple, and you can remember looking up at him and feeling warmth for him in your heart.

Is this what you really want..?

No.

Your relationship has felt like a series of rash decisions lately, and you aren’t about to make the final, irreversible choice of leaving London. You can’t leave - not now, with the path finally clear. You can’t leave Tom, who’s finally told you how he feels. He’s messy, and complicated, and being around him makes you feel like your heart is on fire, but you love him. You love him, and maybe he’s right - maybe love is enough.

You know that you have come too far to throw it all away without giving him a chance.

You’ve never been a fan of bold, romantic gestures, but as they call your gate again, you turn off your phone and you turn around. You turn around, and you run. You run back to him.

↠ next part

#sob #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland #tom holland series #crying on main time #y/n #y/n use #self insert #self-insert #tfg #ahhhhHHHHH screaming truly #what am i gonna do with my fridays when im finished with this series!!#:((( anyways #please let me know what you're thinking :)))#almost didn't include the final scene in this part but :)) i thought it deserved to make the final cut

683 notes · View notes

goji-pilled · 3 years

Text

Okay @princekirijo you want an essay? Well here it is now, or as I like to call it Felix's "Asumari is great and this fandom has no fucking taste" rambling and infodump. Congrats fellas, thanks to Prince you ALL get an asumari essay. But before that I'll try to give you a rundown of Mari and Asuka.

(I'm also so sorry for putting this long ass post on everyone's dashboard)

(Spoiler warning for Evangelion 3.0+1.0 Thrice Upon a Time!!)

Alright on one hand we have Mari Illustrious Makinami. Her whole deal? She's a walking ray of sunshine, literally lol. Unlike any other character in the Evangelion franchise she doesn't suffer from her trauma, she's quite literally the only healthy and functioning human being, she's just slightly leaning towards "batshit crazy" with the stunts she pulls 🤷‍♂️. Other than that she just loves living, she loves being with people, she keeps moving forward, stays positive and decides to live life to it's fullest even after she experiences loss and multiple apocalyptic events (Second Impact, Third Impact, etc.) and she really just embodies the joy of living. That's all there is to her, or at least all we know.

On the other hand, we have Asuka Langley Shikinami who is... well it's hard to explain what she is to be honest. She's part-German and part-Japanese and part of a line of clones specifically made with the purpose to pilot an Evangelion and later on be used as a sacrifice to trigger another Impact (ITS COMPLICATED I KNOW-) Asuka is, unlike Mari, very much suffering from her trauma. She doesn't have her parents and has a very deep seated belief that she's completely alone, which she says doesn't matter as long as she can pilot the Eva. She also very much wants to fight and kill angels all by herself, and it's seriously messing with her when she can't achieve that.

Now we get to the more interesting parts (hopefully this so far wasn't too confusing, then again it's Eva and even I can't fully wrap my head around it all LMAO)

In the second Rebuild movie (Evangelion 2.0 You can (not) advance) we get introduced to both of them, Mari's introduction scene (in the original English dub) has her pilot an Eva and singing about how she'll take the world on by herself, while in the third movie's (Evangelion 3.0 You can (not) redo) opening scene she's piloting the Eva again but this time it's together with Asuka (in her own Unit 02 though) and during that Mari sings about how wonderful it is not to be alone. It's nothing big yet, but it's a really cute detail me thinks,,, you know what else I love about them? They bicker and they banter and it's genuinely so fun to listen to shskdhsuwj

(For a quick catch up: During the end of 2.0 Shinji (the protagonist) triggers another apocalyptic event, the Near Third Impact, and was only stopped due to Kaworu (the guy in my pfp) stepping in. Also between 1.0/2.0 and 3.0/3.0+1.0 are about 14 years (without Shinji bc he's like comatose) where A LOT happens AND we learn in 3.0 that Eva pilots don't age physically bc of "The curse of the Eva"... honestly Eva is wild lmao)

Okay okay I'll get back to it!

So one thing that happens is that Asuka during 2.0 develops a crush on Shinji (girl why-), unfortunately things take a turn for the worse. Asuka had volunteered to be the testpilot for a new Eva (Unit 03), she seemed happy at the time and it was a really sweet build up with the "I can smile, I didn't know I could still do that."-line. And then? Then it turns out the Ninth Angel had infected Unit 03 (Angels are basically the Kaijus they fight using Evas btw). The thing goes on a loose and Shinji is forced to fight it (With Asuka inside mind you), he refuses and his father uses an autopilot to destroy Unit 03. And boy did it destroy the angel, well it and it crushed Asuka between its jaws (you can actually hear her scream btw haha pain :)).

Asuka survived though, but the whole incident cost her her humanity and she ended up becoming an angel herself/she took the place of the Ninth. But despite that, there's one person who keeps believing in Asuka's humanity, who fiercely believes Asuka is still a human and tells her as much.

Yep, that one person is Mari and she keeps holding onto that belief until the very end when Asuka uses her last resort, which is using the power of an angel (Doing so was a guaranteed death sentence btw). Mari's own words (in the German dub) were, "Princess, you're giving up being human…" AND IT MAKES ME SO EMO GOD FUCK

While I'm at it, Mari and Asuka are a fucking killer combo as a team. They rely on each other for support in combat, listen to the other's orders and advice. Especially in Asuka's case it's kind of a big deal that she so openly relies and counts on Mari's support. Like these two trust each other with their damn lifes!!! Holy shit!!

Guess what though, they also have nicknames for eachother. Mari always calls Asuka "Princess" or "(Your) Highness" while Asuka calles Mari "Four-eyes" / "Four-eyed chrony (idk how you spell that tbh RIP" Even better though, in the German dub Asuka calls Mari "Brillerella" as in a combination of "Brille" (German for glasses) and "Cinderella",,,,Cinderella and her Prince,,,Brillerella and her Princess,,, man, that was a gay fucking move of the translation team. Spoiler: I owe them my life.

Funfact: There's exactly two times throughout the Rebuild movies where Mari uses Asuka's actual name. These two times being when she watches Asuka "die" and be used as a sacrifice for Gendo's selfish plan and when later on she begs Shinji, "So please the Princess… Asuka needs your help!" And the best part? That wasn't even the first time she did that. The mentioned line came from 3.0+1.0, but she did that too in 3.0 with the, "At least save the Princess!" line (although her tone was much more...pissed, like she was really angry lol)

Remember the crush Asuka had on Shinji? Well due to the Unit 03 incident a whole lot of other shit got mixed into that and her feelings for him in general became really bitter (understandably so). Now Mari being who she is sometimes teases Asuka about said old crush but she really does want Asuka to get closure and sort that mess out.

As an example for the teasing, in 3.0 there's a scene that goes like this (please imagine Mari with a literal :3 face while saying that):

"Unit! Are you back in the game?"

"I'm on it, your Highness. But first things first, how was our little puppy (Shinji)? Did he sit like a good little boy?"

"He's exactly the same! Same stupid face talking mayhem!"

"That goofy face of his, that's what you wanted to see? Riiiiight?"

"Shut up! I went there to bat him one!... And I feel better!"

There's also a very short bonus manga that was released in Japan for Thrice Upon a Time's release that has Mari trying to convince Asuka to come with her on the mission to get Shinji, given everything that follows, it's just another thing to prove my point. And the final bit relating to that is this:

"Feeling better now?"

"Yeah, I do feel better."

That's the exchange Asuka and Mari have after they talked to Shinji, it's nothing special but I think it's really sweet and this time Asuka actually sounded like she was feeling better instead of when she was screaming after she nearly broke pretty thick glass with her fist (If she had hit someone with that much force she definitely would've broken something omggg #violentimpulsesgang)

To get back on track though: I already mentioned it but during the second half of 3.0+1.0 Asuka "dies" (and honestly that entire scene is worth its own in-depth post because its just one huge parallel to The End of Evangelion), the point is: You can tell that the loss of Asuka honestly hits Mari hard. Not only because of how Mari screams Asuka's name but also because of her expressions. They're pained, like really fucking pained and Mari even apologizes to her that she has to fall back due to the fact that she's injured AND because eveything is going wrong.

After the events of Evangelion 3.0 these two got seperated from eachother, Mari was with WILLE (the organization both of them are with) and on board of Wunder (the ship WILLE basically operates from) while Asuka was in a Village full of (Near) Third Impact Survivors. When they do meet again it went like this:

Asuka, barely back, comes to the door and calls, "I'm back." And within seconds of Asuka stepping into their room after the door opens Mari already runs towards her, arms wide open and she says, "Welcome back, your Highness! Good job. I missed you so much!" And she says that while she literally nuzzles into Asuka,,,like,,,what the fuck gay people real!!!

Best part? Asuka clearly has enough strength to push Mari completely away if she were uncomfortable, but she doesn't. Asuka merely wanted enough space to look at the room (because Mari managed to horde even more books lol) and play her game. During their entire renunion Mari keeps hugging her, and part of me thinks that perhaps deep down Asuka actually enjoys the feeling of physical affection.

Before we get to the last point though, let me say that Asuka and Mari have scenes in 3.0+1.0 that parallel Shinji and Kaworu's from 3.0. (Fyi Kaworu loves Shinji (yeah, like that, and 3.0 was basically them being gay as fuck for an hour) so like...do I even need to explain?

And then of course there's also this, the "Take care of yourself, Princess…" line. That is the last time Mari talks to Asuka and as much as that line alone already is so much, it's Mari's expression in particular that kills me. Because this? This soft, almost bittersweet expression she has, as she basically says goodbye? Because she knows Asuka will finally be happy and safe? It just makes me feel so much actually. Man.

In the end it's a fact that Mari loved Asuka, wether that is interpreted as platonic or romantic by someone is up to them. But it is a fact that Asuka was loved enough that someone wanted to hug her, was happy to see her, to praise her, was hurt by her loss, wanted her to be safe, that someone told her "Take care of yourself…" Asuka was really and honestly so loved that someone would tell her, "I missed you."

But Asuka? Asuka was too hurt, too wrapped up in her own head to actually see how loved she was by Mari (and other people) that she genuinely believed she's completely alone and always will be alone.

It makes the "Take care of yourself" line hit even harder to me, because it's not only Mari's goodbye, but it's a goodbye during the one time Asuka allowed herself to be vulnerable and admit what she really wanted.

And honestly? All of this? Its makes me feel so many things and I just love them so much man.

#the felix talk #IM SO SORRY THIS IS SO LONG #HDMSGDMDGSJSGEH #3.0+1.0 spoilers

40 notes · View notes

bouncingkadachi · 3 years

Text

Blessed Rain

Summary: A Hunter’s weapon of choice says a lot about them. OR: Kyle upgrades his weaponry and gets caught red-handed in the act. Luckily (?) for him, only Tsukino seems to know exactly why he's having an emotional crisis over this.

Word count: 3,260

Note(s): set post-game

Also available on AO3!

Kyle’s had his new bow for a good couple of weeks before the feel of the limbs and the weight of the draw became comfortable enough for him to consider upgrading it. If he’s going to be injured, he reasons, he’d rather it be purely by way of monster and not because he pulls a muscle wrestling with a bow that hasn’t been properly broken in. His wallet despairs as he forks over the zenny, but this’ll hopefully let him take on some of the bigger hunts like the ones that Reverto goes on. It’ll all be worth the investment up front once he has his completely finished bow and restocked his coatings and finally drops the last of his coin on a couple new talismans.

He refuses to think about the implications of his reasoning with a literal coin, rolling it around and around his fingers as he pushes through the market throngs towards the smithy’s. Perhaps he ought to have a change of scenery—the fog-shrouded summits of Terga were said to be particularly beautiful at this time of year, and the heat in Lamure was becoming just shy of unbearable.

The final product that the blacksmith puts into his hands when he finally makes it to collect is nothing short of gorgeous. Blessed Rain is sleek where his old Rex bow was bulky, far lighter and certainly not as clunky. The upgrades on the riser gives the entire weapon a pleasant solidness in his hand, yet the delicately reinforced plating on the limbs doesn’t retract at all from its flexibility. The decorative grip protector gleams. Just looking at it makes Kyle excited to shoot.

“Bring her back if you’re finding that you need anything adjusted,” the smith tells him after Kyle’s diligently inspected every inch of the bow. “Kept the poundage the same for you, but added another inch to the draw length like you asked.”

“Thanks,” Kyle says. Eventually, he’d like to work up to the point where he can up the poundage again. Even just another five pounds would be good. He can do most of the hunts in his skill range alone now, but extra firepower would make him just that much more efficient, or that much of a better support for team hunts.

The smith laughs when Kyle sheepishly admits this. “Well, I always like to help a Hunter improve, and you know where to find me,” he says cheerily, clapping Kyle enthusiastically on the shoulder. “Come by again anytime if you need a tune up or want to test out something new.”

And with that, he waves Kyle away so that another Hunter can step up, holding a tired-looking sword and shield and looking equally exhausted. “Aye, rookie Hunter?” Kyle hears as he wanders off to find a more relaxed corner of the market in which to admire his new bow some more. “If you’ve got the materials I can repair and upgrade that for you.” The conversation peters out and melts into the general din of the marketplace as Kyle slips into the crowd, taking care to step out of the way of a Felyne carrying an absolutely massive basket groaning with produce. He watches the precarious load totter away, trying and failing to locate Tsukino in the brief respite the parted crowd affords him. They’d split earlier that morning and he hasn’t seen her since.

He still hasn’t managed to find even a whisker of Tsukino’s whereabouts by the time he settles into a decently quiet nook next to a stall selling all manner of spices. Pity, because the dappled light spilling through the colorful drapes of the marketplace catches so beautifully on the milky-white sheen of the bow, and he’d been looking forward to showing it to her. As a Hunter, Kyle will always care more about weapon practicality than aesthetics, but as a normal human being he certainly won’t turn down the opportunity to have both an aesthetically pleasing and perfectly functional weapon. He’s still grinning a little when he goes to strap the bow to his back, and it’s in the process of looking up that his gaze catches onto wide eyes staring plainly at him from across the street.

He freezes, arm suspended awkwardly halfway to sheathing. His beautiful bow glints damningly in the bright Lamure sunlight as his unexpected friend wades through the throngs of people towards him, gesturing for him to stay put with a wave of her hand that really can’t be mistaken for anything other than a greeting.

“Hey,” he says cautiously and lamely when she finally reaches him. Belatedly, he remembers to lower his arm. He is momentarily thankful that she doesn’t try to reach up for his face in the Mahanan greeting, although his goodwill evaporates when she leans in to inspect his bow, body thrumming with unexplainable anticipation.

“Oh, that’s pretty,” she says finally. Kyle can’t help himself from preening just a little, shifting his grip so that she can get a better look. After all, what was the point of spending all that money and materials if there was no one to excitedly show the end product off to? Besides, it’s been a while since they last saw each other. Last he heard, she had been traveling, keen to finally see the world on her own terms and at her own pace.

“It’s fresh off an upgrade,” he answers smugly. “Easier to handle than the Rex.”

“Slightly less intimidating though,” she chimes in, and Kyle bristles, not liking where this conversation is going. And true to form, she goes in for the kill: “Mizutsune? I recognize the plating.”

Kyle can feel the flush crawling up to his ears. Logically, he knows that there’s nothing for him to be embarrassed about. It’s a mark of good smithing that one can tell at a glance which monster a weapon was inspired by, and a Mizutsune was both powerful and extremely iconic. This bow in particular had good stats and the ability to fire rapidly, which admittedly took him some time to get used to after focusing mostly on piercing shots. The paralysis coating that works so well on this bow has also already saved his skin on more than one occasion. There is little more a career Hunter can ask for out of his weapon. It’s not like he’d been heading out to Pomore Garden at any given opportunity and holding onto an increasing multitude of Mizutsune materials just because he wanted some physical reminder of what was probably the most pivotal moment of his life, something that never failed to put a very complicated and jumbled mess of emotions deep within his chest whenever he thought back to it.

He’s starting to feel very, very hot under his collar. The sun is terrible. He resolves that his next big hunt really needs to be somewhere outside of Lamure.

His friend, however, just looks more and more baffled as he launches into an unprompted defense of his newest purchase. Every time she opens her mouth, Kyle talks a little faster. Eventually, she doesn’t even bother trying to interject, which is arguably worse, because instead she just looks progressively more and more thoughtful. Kyle wished desperately for Tsukino to peel away from whatever hidey hole she was tucked in. Then, his train of thought screeches into a rude and abrupt halt.

“What,” he croaks. “What are you doing.”

One of her brows quirks up. “I sure hope your eyes are still working because that’d be a detriment to your job,” she says plainly. “What does it look like I’m doing? I promise it’s not a trick question.”

What she’s doing is holding Kyle’s hand—the one not clutching his new bow—the one that had apparently been waving about with increasing agitation as he jabbered on and on. What Kyle doesn’t understand is why. It’s not like he just did some impressive shot to give them the edge in a battle or anything else that was cool and hand-holding worthy. He’d just been yammering about bow mechanics, and maybe embarrassingly dipping into his talisman hopes and dreams. He stares a little helplessly at his trapped hand. Her kinship stone winks up at him.

“Look,” she says patiently, when it becomes very clear that Kyle is going to need a moment before he can get his brain back online. “There’s nothing wrong with a bow made from Mizutsune parts and I am the last person who will ever turn down pretty things. What I was going to say was that this is an interesting departure from your whole—” She pauses, as though looking for a specific word. “Well, your whole image as a very grown-up and serious and intimidating Hunter or whatever it was you were trying to convey with that scowl you used to like so much. And you weren’t letting me get a single word in.”

“You’re getting plenty of words in now,” Kyle scowls, just to be contrary. “And I’ve grown since then.”

“Someone’s in a mood today.” She smiles, crinkle-eyed, up at him. Kyle very seriously debates wrenching his hand out of her hold like he did the last time this happened and then pointedly doesn’t act on the impulse.

“Why’re you in Lulucion?” he asks instead with a truly remarkable level of self-restraint. “Thought you’d never want to come back again after what happened.”

She shrugs, the greatsword on her back heaving with the movement. “Guess I’ve grown too,” she says loftily, though she sobers quickly. “I was actually visiting my grandfather. He used to go back to Mahana around this time of year… he can’t do it anymore of course but I’ve got Ratha now, so I figured I could do it instead. And then I figured I’d stop by Rutoh before going home, to see Ena and Alwin and wheedle a few more stories out of them.”

She lets go of Kyle’s hand. He tries not to miss it. “Even Ratha can’t make the trip in one go, and Lulucion was closest, so we’re stopping to rest. I dropped by the Scrivener’s Lodge earlier because I was hoping Reverto could give me a few weapon pointers as I’ve saved up just about enough for an upgrade, but they told me that he was out on an urgent mission and wouldn’t be back for a while.”

“Oh,” Kyle says, a little stung that she hadn’t come specifically to see him first, out of all the Hunters in the city. He’s slightly mollified when she grins at him, though.

“And then I met Tsukino by the cannons. She said I could find you here, so here I am.”

“I don’t know anything about greatswords,” Kyle blurts out, and immediately wants to kick himself. She blinks at him, and then bursts into laughter.

“I was just going to ask the smith,” she wheezes when she’s got herself somewhat back under control. “Can’t I see a friend just to say hi to him anymore?” Kyle stares very intently down at some of the finer detailing on his bow.

“Where is my Palico anyway?” he finally settles on, falling into a tried and true grumble. “I haven’t seen her all day.”

She waves her hand vaguely in the air. “Navirou said something about getting donuts. I wasn’t really listening.”

But there was a donut stand right here in the marketplace, Kyle wanted to cry out. He should have seen Tsukino by now if they’d really been going to buy snacks! And how was it possible that he had missed Navirou in his entirety, between the Felyne’s penchant for wearing ridiculous little outfits and his inability to shut up?

“Why? You have a hunt you need to run off to?”

“Yes,” Kyle says hotly. It’s a lie. He’d accepted a subquest that wouldn’t depart until later that evening for the sole purpose of testing out his new weapon in a relatively stress-free environment. Before that, he’d just planned on hitting up the shooting range in the training arena to break in the new string. His schedule was very, very free. Tsukino was perfectly aware of that.

His eyes widened. Tsukino had been with him on every excursion into the Gardens. She went where he did (usually), and it’s not like Kyle would ever begrudge her a visit home. But she’d been with him every step of every single Mizutsune job he’d ever taken—had watched him craft traps when he needed to capture and had kept watch for opportunists hoping to sneak up as he’d carved. She’d been the one who’d recommended the spinner for all the excess purplefur he was ending up with. At first, he’d simply thought that she’d wanted the thread to mend some of her own items, or to send back home to her brethren, but instead she’d tucked each skein of vibrant, silk-soft thread into the bottom of his pouch with gentle paws, cryptically talking about how strong a material it was, and how nice it looked when woven. Kyle has never touched a loom in his life, but now he’s looking at someone who he definitely knows has.

His stomach drops. Hadn’t Tsukino looked particularly smug ever since he’d lingered on the blueprints for Blessed Rain after getting a look at its stats and required materials?

“She got me,” he groans. His friend just looks at him bemusedly, though perhaps with a touch of wariness at his ferocious frown. Hastily, he tacks on: “It’s nothing. I, uh—I just remembered that I needed to tell Tsukino something. Important. Later, when I find her again.”

“Alright,” she says, though she doesn’t quite look like she believes him. “A quest’s a quest, though, so I won’t keep you here. The bow really is pretty though. I know I just said it doesn’t match your image and all but I really don’t think you can go wrong with something you like. You’ve got the skills for it, anyway.”

“Thanks,” he croaks, feeling a little overwhelmed. He manages two whole steps out of the nook before he pauses, worrying at his lower lip. “Actually,” he says sharply, spinning around on his heel and nearly causing his friend to startle right into a spice display. “How long are you staying for?”

“However long it’ll take to upgrade my sword, I guess,” she says after she collects herself, the words lilting into a question. “Three days or so, I guess?” She skirts nervously away from the glaring vendor, careful not to overbalance on her greatsword.

“Cool,” Kyle says with a nod, steeling himself. “Great, even. Look, how about this. Your last visit to Lulucion was terrible—” an understatement, “—so when I get back from my hunt I’ll show you some of the better sights Lulucion has to offer. There’s a hole in the wall that I think you’ll like. Dad used to take me after hunts—they grill really nice queen shrimp. And the parapets—you can climb them, and they’ve got all these little carvings in the stone that you can search for like a scavenger hunt.” He’s keenly aware that he’s rambling again, but she looks interested, so he barrels on. “I’ll come pick you up tomorrow just as soon as I can get a nap in. We can stay in the city or take Ratha out to the Barrens, down by the water. Just make a day of it.” He’s pretty certain that he looks at her with something akin to hope as she considers. It feels like a lifetime before she finally comes to a decision.

“I want to take Ratha out in the evening,” she says finally. “I don’t want him to be cooped up too long here ever again.”

“Yeah,” Kyle breathes out, the word rushing out of him in a flood of relief. “Yeah, I can work around that.” She beams at him.

“I’ll look forward to it,” she says, sincere and looking more than a little surprised despite herself at the prospect of looking forward to doing anything in Lulucion. “I’m staying at the inn closest to the stables. Pretty sure I’m the only Rider there currently so they’ll know who I am.” Kyle nods, and lets himself get his hand squeezed again, though not without her hands first hovering in an instinctual bid for his cheeks before she remembers herself.

“Good luck on your hunt. If I see Tsukino I’ll let her know you’re looking for her.”

“She’ll show up in due time,” he mutters darkly. “I’ll let you know if Reverto gets back early or if he’s just been loafing around this entire time. For your next upgrade or whatever.” She laughs, bright, and then slips off into the crowd to wrestle her way into the smithy’s queue. Kyle is left staring in her wake before his gaze is drawn back down to his bow.

“This is all your fault,” he tells it. Predictably, it doesn’t answer. Also predictably, Tsukino takes that exact moment to drop down from seemingly nowhere.

“I didn’t know we had another job lined up,” the Felyne says delicately, carefully brushing crumbs off of her coat. Kyle groans, sheathing his weapon.

“Don’t tease me,” he huffs. “I’m going to the shooting range. Are you coming?”

“Hmm,” says Tsukino. “I suppose I can spare the time.”

“Of course you can spare the time!” Kyle hisses, indignant. “You just spent the day eating donuts and eavesdropping!” He pointedly doesn’t look towards the smithy, where his friend was patiently browsing the display while another Hunter was getting their hammer looked at.

“One must always be prepared with the latest intel,” Tsukino says mildly. “I’m glad the upgrade went well.”

“It’s got good stats,” Kyle protests weakly in what is quickly becoming a tired argument. “The rapid shots have been going very well. And I had a surplus of Mizutsune parts.”

“Yes,” his hunting partner agrees readily enough. “Have you thought of what you’re going to do with the thread?”

“This conversation is finished,” Kyle says abruptly, making a very determined push towards the market’s exit. “Either come or don’t, so long as we meet at the gate for tonight’s hunt.”

Tsukino looks at him with exasperated fondness, which is frankly a little insulting, but readily falls into step next to him. Kyle wonders how many rounds he’s going to have to shoot in order to clear his head again and rid it of thoughts of Hazepetal Garden or Mizutsune or high-grade thread that he’ll never use himself. He’ll examine them again someday—because he’s not a coward—but that day is most certainly not today.

He does his rounds in the training arena and marvels at the way the string slides off his fingers with a satisfying twang, even though it’ll still be a good few days before it’s fully broken in to his liking. Tsukino’s saved him a donut, the cakey sweet sticky with honey and practically melting in his mouth. He’s got some free time even after stocking up for the evening hunt, so he takes a few minutes to browse the quest board, taking careful note of the jobs that were situated near the Harzgai Rocky Hill, or the ones from further afield in Alcala that’ll take him closer to Rutoh. And when he leaves the city, he pointedly doesn’t look up at the familiar shape circling in the dusky sky, even as he knows that they’ll surely see the last rays of the setting sun winking off of the plates of his bow like a beacon.

#was anyone going to tell me that HR Kyle gets a MIZU BOW #You were just going to withhold this vital piece of information from me?#anyway here's 3k words about the significance of Mizutsune to one (1) boy that I love #I wrote this specifically with my idiot in mind #but asides from the gender and a few other lines I guess you can generalize to any other Rider #monster hunter kyle #monster hunter stories 2 #Annie writes

63 notes · View notes

kokororyuu · 3 years

Text

miles apart [levi ackerman x reader]

synopsis: “you’re going to die,” “i know,” “you’re dying,” “i know, levi, i’m sorry,”

warnings ⚠️: major character death(s), SPOILERS up to season three, slight suggestive themes (its brief!!), brief description of gore

word count: 3.8k

author’s note: no, because,,, this was my first levi fanfic, and i’m immensely proud of it ‼️ if we ignore the “suggestive” part 😩😩 anyway, have fun reading, lovebugs <33

PART TWO: once more

whatever just happened, had happened too fast, and now both you and levi were laying side by side, miles apart from everyone else and the chaos that caused this whole mess in the first place.

you’re both injured bad from the war, and the stench of blood, both humans and titans alike, lays thick in the air. you find yourself nearly suffocating in it as you cough up what seems to be more blood, it’s metallic taste coating your lips and tongue in red.

you can barely feel your arms and legs, and you’re pretty sure they’re either broken or torn off from the fight. you pull your heavy lids open and stare blearily at the night sky, how many hours had passed since you two had been laying here like this?

you turn your head slowly, hearing the multiple cracks your joints made in the effort as your eyes trailed to levi’s face. he’s still in the same position, facing the sky with empty, soulless eyes. you reckon he was pondering something, how long were we gonna stay here? when will someone arrive to help us?

“levi?” you croak out, and he lets out a little rumble of acknowledgement. “are you okay?” what a stupid question... with how levi is, he definitely isn’t, but he was sure to make it seem like he was. he nods to the best of his ability, though he isn’t faring much better than you. gashes that gush with blood cut across his body in what seems to be parallel and equal in length, claws, of some sort, you assume. “good,” you whisper so softly that he almost doesn’t catch the murmured word.

your life seems to be flashing before your eyes quite slowly for the amount of time you’ve spent here bleeding out beside the man.

you recall the first time you caught him off guard.

it was a complete accident. as a member of levi’s squadron, you worked under him as a subordinate and did as he said, after all, he had chosen you to be on his team, and you put as much trust in him as he did in you.

you were bringing him some tea after you had dropped off a huge stack of paperwork in his office. you knew he needed it, after all, it had only been a few days after your most recent expedition and paperwork was a bore if you ever knew one.

a simple teapot and cup of black tea rested on the tray in your hands as you made your way from the kitchen to his office, acknowledging a few cadets that would respectfully greet you before going on their way. when you had finally made it to his door, you knocked gently before waiting for his usual question of your name and reason for entering.

a few seconds, maybe minutes passed, and you were beginning to think he wasn’t even there, but you hadn’t want the tea to go to waste, so you hesitantly pushed the door open with your foot, entering the sparkling clean room with tray in hand.

“captain levi?” you nearly bit your tongue (oluo would have laughed in your face if you did before biting down on his own) and froze with your head peeking inside the room at the sight of the man leaning his head against the back of his chair, his eyes closed and his usual frown wiped off his face.

it had you in a wonder, surprised that even humanity’s strongest (and grouchiest) soldier could have a face as calm as the one on his as he slept. you stepped as quietly as you could toward his desk, setting the tea down with care before you nearly jumped out of your skin when a hand wrapped around your wrist.

your eyes traveled up the scarred and rough hand, up the toned arm, and looked straight into narrowed grey eyes. “what are you doing here?”

“got you tea, captain,” your nerves were calm now, and you spoke with a grin, “thought you would need it with all the paperwork commander tosses at you,”

levi’s hand lingered on your wrist a little longer before he pulled away and carried the steaming cup to his lips in his strange cup hold that you’ve tried to mimic yet still can’t get right. he drank a little, his face ever so stoic. “tastes like shit, brat,” he said, though he made no move to drop the cup back into the tray and continued to sip away at the red orange liquid.

“thought you’d say that,” you turned to leave after saluting him, your hand wrapping around the doorknob before a mischievous impulse lit in you once more, “you know, captain,” he didn’t even glance up from the papers on his desk. “you look cute when you’re sleeping,” his gaze snapped up at that, and he was about to chew you out for making the comment, but to his dismay, you were already gone, having gotten the amusing response from him that you wanted.

there were many times after that where you’d make a little comment here and there, only to get an icy glare and a click of the tongue from levi, which wasn’t a problem to you at all, if anything, you found it the best part. the way he’d scowl at you and turn away, only to let you get away with it the very next day. it was like a little game the two of you would play, and you were winning if eye rolls, embarrassed blushes hidden behind callused hands, and, “tch,”’s counted as prizes.

you would’ve never thought he’d bite back, especially this far into the game.

“captain levi~!” you drew out his name with a little hop in your step. he didn’t stop walking, if anything, his pace sped up as he tried to leave you in the hallway. “captain!” you groaned childishly and ran after him. he turned the corner and into his office, leaving the door ajar. you grinned, it seemed he knew well enough you wouldn’t stop for a closed door. you opened it as soon as your hand touched the cool wood, and sang out, “levi~” you saw him standing by his desk and looking down at the papers that littered it. “i’ve got another joke for you—”

“—if you keep this up, i might actually get angry,” you halted in your tracks and clamped your mouth shut, angry? oh no, you weren’t trying to make him angry, only annoy him if anything. you knew, everyone knew to not get on levi’s bad side, and after seeing the man kick the titan shifter boy from the 104th cadets merciless, it’d be terribly stupid of you to try and anger him.

he dragged his fingertips across the tabletop and looked up through hooded eyes, “might even punish you,” you were stuck in a stupor at his words and how they obviously had implications for something else.

“but i guess you’d like that, hm? i wouldn’t want give you that satisfaction,” he seemed pleased with the way your cheeks flamed up and your jaw stayed dropped in shock. after he grabbed whatever he needed from his desk, he walked by you with a sly quirk of his lips, dragging a hand up to close your agape mouth. “close the door after you leave,” he called out before he disappeared out the door and down the hall.

from there on, your relationship had changed drastically. this game now had two players, and that new addition was the original target of the game himself. the teasing and playful jokes continued on for days, weeks, and you were having so much fun that you barely realized how much some people were noticing, including a certain bespectacled one.

“hey, hange!” you plopped next to them as you watched them fiddle with a little gadget. “what’s this?” you eyed curiously as hange laughed.

“my new creation! i’m trying to make something erwin asked for to help with his arm. you nodded, understanding immediately. the commander had lost his arm when the scouts went to save eren from a kidnapping. there was a few moments of silence before hange asked, “so… you and levi?”

you opened your mouth to retort but they beat you to it, “don’t deny it! even eren can tell, and he’s as dense as a rock!” you cowered from their accusing finger before huffing out a sigh.

“you know it doesn’t work like that, hange,” the mood dampened with your honest but hurtful words. you were right, it didn’t. with a world of titans and destruction, war like this, there would never be a second of peace, of life, of freedom. you could be alive and happy one day and then die and suddenly gone forever the next. and with levi being an ackerman, he was bound to survive longer than you, you just didn’t want to cause him more unnecessary pain.

hange hummed under their breath, “you’re right, but if it were me, i’d rather die knowing i had the chance and took it, than die letting it slip between my fingers,” they continued to tinker with the gadget as you pondered quietly on their words. they were right, but so were you, and now it was just up to the risk both sides were willing to take. what would happen if you ever confessed these buried feelings of yours to your terribly stoic captain?

in the end, you never said anything, at all. the two of you stayed at this sort of flirting and joking around type state. it was comfortable, you concluded, though you had to be honest, there were a few close calls where you felt you blushed too much, said too much, or gasped a little too loud when his touch lingered on you for too long.

you hadn’t said a word about your feelings for the man, and neither did he.

levi didn’t know when his heart had decided to let you in.

it was probably after erwin had passed away on a roof of a building with a gaping hole in his side that colored his cape and the white bandages around his abdomen red.

he brought his body back for a proper burial, but even then, levi couldn’t cry, nor let a single tear slip down his cheek. for a few weeks, even if he seemed put together, there was a heavy feeling that resided in his chest. no matter if he tried to sleep it away or drown himself in paperwork, it never left him.

it had been a rough night. there were complications with the imports from a faraway town in sina, and while hange was busy with things as the newly appointed commander, levi had to deal with the papers that came with the conflict.

he didn’t know how long he had been sitting before the fireplace in the mess hall, scratching away at the parchment under the warmth of the flickering fire that casted a warm orange hue around the room.

he clicked his tongue as another wave of aches hit his head before rubbing at his temples. erwin would’ve been better at handling this shit… his brow furrowed at his thoughts, you know better than that, there’s no bringing him back, you made the choice, levi.

levi didn’t regret his choice, but he had guessed the heavy presence of death had just stuck with him a little tighter this time around. it was fine, it would pass, at least, that was what he told himself.

during his turmoil, you had entered the mess hall as quietly as you could, “captain levi?” he looked up from the papers and pulled his hand away from his face with a quirked brow. “i brought you tea,” you spoke softly as to not agitate him any further. “i hope it tastes better than last time, i practiced,” you sent him a lopsided smile that you hoped would ease his frown, but instead, it brought the opposite.

the lines on his face became deeper as he scowled, “i don’t have time right now,” and the grumble of your name right after sounded harsh on both yours and even his ears. it was now your turn to pout. you definitely weren’t trying to mess around with him right now, not with all the stress and the recent death of one of his closest friends.

you sat there across from him at the table in silence for a few moments as he penned the paper. what could make him feel better? you thought quietly to yourself, your eyes raking over levi in search of something, any indicator to help him. a sudden idea popped in your head as you stood, making your way to stand behind him as you watched his eyes never leave the documents. “what are you doing?”

you reached over and plucked the pen from his hand, placing it down on the table and ignoring his glare, “just relax, levi, i’m gonna try and sort out these tense ass muscles of yours,” as soon as the words popped out of your mouth, your hands began to press into his shoulders, eliciting a little sound of surprise from levi. he almost immediately tensed back up at the foreign feeling but relaxed to the best of his abilities after a few pointed words from you.

“i’m not just here to get you tea, you know?” you worked out a knot in his neck, watching as his head lolled to the side to give you more room to work. “i had the same training as you, and i know how to handle paperwork, you could always ask if you need the help,” he hummed at your offer, and you only chuckled before getting back to his tense muscles.

levi let himself relax, more so than he probably ever had. your hands made their way up the base of his neck, and he let out a little sigh. he didn’t think this would feel this good, and he was considering what he could do to pay you back before realizing. what was the need to? you were doing the work of a subordinate for a superior, there was no need for him to treat you to anything.

but there was something that made levi realize that it wasn’t true, no matter how much every fiber in his body wanted to reject the idea. you were different, in your own weird way, and he couldn’t place his finger on it yet, but he decided he’d find out along the way.

“alright, you can work with me starting tomorrow, meet me here after dinner. if you’re late, i’m not letting you help again,” you smiled victoriously and pat his shoulders to signify you were done massaging them.

“alright then! see you tomorrow, captain,” you saluted him and shuffled out of the mess hall to leave him to his work.

the man held back a chuckle, sipping on the now lukewarm tea by his side. he had to admit, you were getting better at brewing his favorite drink.

levi’s heart felt a little lighter that night.

the two of you were almost impossibly closer after that. early mornings were spent with hange at important meetings and gatherings, most of the days were spent listening to hange rant about titans and ridiculous (but hilarious) and sometimes even useful plans, and late nights would be spent on paperwork and idle chatter by the warm fireplace in the mess hall.

the two of you would talk about nothing and everything, sometimes levi letting you talk his ear off as he added comments here and there or choosing to bask in each other’s silence as the flames beside you two crackled.

there were nights you fell asleep at the table, only to wake up in the middle of the night with a blanket that looked suspiciously like the one levi refused to share with you the night before around your shoulders that smelled of fresh laundry and lemons.

levi remembered all these little moments, including the time he had to yank a paper from under your arm to save it from your impending drool, or the multiple times he draped his cotton blanket over you and pulled it around your shoulders, his hands hesitating to pick off the dust that had resided on your cheek before gently brushing it off you and holding his breath when you’d twitch or move from his touch.

he still couldn’t really understand how it happened really, but spending time with you made him realize how much he liked the way you smiled at him no matter how annoyed he was with you, and the way you talked to him like he wasn’t humanity’s strongest soldier.

he felt normal, and strangely free.

and for some reason, he felt that if you ever disappeared from his sight, he’d lose this light feeling in his chest that outshined the bitter emotions he was always burdened with.

he didn’t want to lose you.

levi huffs, trying to control his unsteady breathing. there’s a feeling of discomfort that settles in his chest, and he’s not sure if it’s from just the cuts and bruises he obtained from the crash. you’re treating him like he’s fragile, like glass, and he hates it, sure, he’s broken, even he knows that, but he hates it.

humanity’s strongest soldier… he scoffs internally at himself, well, he feels pretty pathetic at the moment. he then outwardly scowls, gripping onto the pants of his torn uniform.

“you’re going to die,” he doesn’t mean for his words to sound so sharp, and he’s sure that his tone hurts you more than the gashes that litter your torso.

“i know,” he’s right, it hurts, and they seem to cut deeper than your wounds, as if someone struck your heart with a knife and twisted the blade.

his voice nearly breaks when he says this, but he stays... strong, “you’re dying,”

“i know, levi. i’m sorry,”

you know this man has been through so much, too much. he lost too many, has seen too much, he’s been through so many tragedies, and you still haven’t seen him cry, not once, and not now as you lay beside him, shivering and keeping your eyes open enough to watch him glare up at the night sky.

one last attempt, you think to yourself. you need to get his attention before it’s too late, before you fade away and disappear, but you can already feel your conscious slipping through your fingertips and your eyes drooping.

“levi…” your voice sounds pained when he stays turnt away from you and looks up at the moon, “i’m proud of you,” levi’s heart squeezes and so does his eyes, he doesn’t want to hear your soft voice right now, nor look at your mangled body, or hear the shouts of soldiers swinging around on their odm gear or the battle cries as they slice into titans’ napes.

you bite back a cry at his act of ignorance to your pleas for him to just look at you, and fall silent as your energy drains along with the blood that comes from you and him and soak into the earth. you meant those words, you mean what you said, and you beg him with your eyes focused on his high cheekbones to just spare you a glance while his stay glued to the twinkling stars.

it becomes so quiet, that levi begins to think you’ve already kicked the bucket with how he can barely hear your breathing.

he’s already preparing himself to do what he usually does, steel himself against the terrible emotions of survivor’s guilt and sorrow. every time he feels the twinge of depression and desperation creep up and wrap itself around his heart, he escapes to his mind, the logical part of him. the part that keeps him miles apart from everything, distance, safety.

he does it so much that you know, and you can tell he’s doing it right now with how tense his brow is and how the nails of the hand which lays between you digs into his palm. he’s closing himself off again, even after all these years you’ve spent together as comrades, partners in crimes, and what you hope was as friends.

you try to distract yourself some more, with anything really, the way his hair, though covered in blood seems to flow seamlessly to the sides of his head, revealing his undercut, and his eyes that stare silently into the endless blue sky, or the familiar smell of citrus and fresh laundry that you get from him even with the layers of smoke that are wafting from the ongoing battle burning your lungs or the smell of blood still seeping out from the both of you.

you want to hold onto the lingering hope that he’ll turn to you and at least say one last goodbye, or say those unspoken feelings he’s always hidden behind cool grey eyes, but he doesn’t say a word.

time is running out, and you need to say this, say this before you leave him like everyone else. levi’s fingers twitch when he hears you take in a sudden breath, your voice coming out quiet, weak, frail.

“the moon is beautiful tonight, isn’t it?” levi’s eyes open, and his head snaps toward you, and he regrets it, so bad. he manages to catch the exact moment the light, the life, fades from your very eyes he always thought were so gorgeous.

he’s lost his light.

you’re gone.

levi feels this terrible grip on his heart that makes him lose his breath and his head pound worse than it already is, and he chokes on the blood that gushes from his lips. his hand reaches out to you weakly, his arms, losing their strength, and he barely has the energy to keep his eyes open.

he almost can’t bring himself to do it, but he leans forward to press a shaky and hesitant kiss on the top of your head that he hopes conveys all the unsaid confessions he could’ve showered you with before your passing. his lips are warm, while your body turns pale and blue, and he finds it ironic how someone as kind and bright as you now seems dull in comparison to him.

as unshed tears pool at the corners of his eyes, your lifeless ones bore into his for the last time before he pushes them close with a touch of his hands over your eyes.

his heart, it hurts so bad, more than it ever has, and no matter how much he tries to push down the lump in his throat or the burning of his eyes and heart, it persists. he slowly falls back into his previous position, your corpse beside him losing its warmth and his steel grey eyes facing the moon once more.

the fuzzy lines around the full moon start to blur as he blinks a few times, the hues of white mixing with the blue of the sky, “it is…”

and finally, he lets himself cry.

explanations

“the moon is beautiful tonight, isn’t it?”

this is a more poetic way to say “i love you” in japanese :D

“it is...”

this is essentially “i love you too” in reply to “the moon is beautiful, isn’t it?”

#attack on titan x reader #aot x reader #aot #levi aot #aot imagines #snk fanfiction #snk levi #snk #shingeki no kyoujin levi #shingeki no kyoujin fanfiction #shingeki no kyojin #angst #attack on titan #major character death #angst with a sad ending #angst with fluff #fluff

116 notes · View notes

juurensha · 2 years

Text

Ship Meme: Subaru/Seishirou

Well now for another blast from the past, let’s talk about one of CLAMP’s most beautiful and messed up pairs, Sumeragi Subaru/Sakurazaku Seishirou from Tokyo Babylon and X(or X/1999).

Spoilers for both Tokyo Babylon and X (and some for Tsubasa as well) under the cut since it’s hard to talk about this pair without spoilers.

Sumeragi Subaru:

Head of the Sumeragi clan and an onmyouji, he was once a cheerful heroic boy, but the death of his twin sister Hokuto at the hands of Seishorou really did a number on him at the end of Tokyo Babylon. When we meet him again in X, he’s one of the Dragons of Heaven and is much more cynical, although still wanting to help people. He is TRAGIC, and possibly my favorite character in X.

Sakurazaku Seishirou:

In Tokyo Babylon, he is at first introduced as a kindly veterinarian living in the same building as the Sumeragi twins, but you quickly find out that he is actually the Sakurazukamori, the magical assassin rival to the Sumeragi clan. After the events of Tokyo Babylon where he basically breaks Subaru, we see him again in X as one of the Dragons of the Earth, where he’s not so interested in bringing about the end of the world but VERY interested in further breaking down Subaru/admitting to him his love/passing on the Sakurazukamori title to him/who the hell knows with Seishirou.

VERY messed up guy, but you have to admit, peak aesthetic with the cherry blossoms and blood thing that the Sakurazukamori title has going with it. He likes mind games and killing people, and he is hands down my favorite CLAMP villain.

Subaru/Seishirou:

Basically canon for all intents and purposes, Seishirou spends the majority of Tokyo Babylon trying to see if he can win the bet he made with a young Subaru a long time ago (that he made Subaru forget), that he could learn to love him. Supposedly, he won, since at the end of Tokyo Babylon, Seishirou kills Subaru’s twin, brutally beats up Subaru, and tells him that despite all his assurances of love throughout the series, he feels absolutely NOTHING towards him.

The truth is....probably more complicated, given that in X we find out that the Sakurazukamori is always killed by the one they love the most, passing on the title to them, and that Seishirou spends most of the series intent on having Subaru kill him and then passing on the title to him.

Making things even more complicated of course is that despite all the terrible things Seishirou has done to him, Subaru is still in love with him, and Seishirou’s love confession when Subaru does finally kill him just breaks him further, sending him over to the Dragons of the Earth to end the world.

It’s a mind-game, messed up ship, but it’s peak aesthetic and tragic and beautiful in its very CLAMP fashion, with beautiful fight scenes and blood and tears all around.

...juu, why do you even like this very messed up ship?

Because LOOK AT THAT ART OKAY. IT’S BEAUTIFUL. Yep, I acknowledge the pairing itself is super messed up, but sometimes, you just want to read about a messed up pairing with tons of mind games and pretty art. Besides, what is X except all tragic, star-crossed romances, with Subaru/Seishirou in the running for MOST tragic and star-crossed (it’s stiff competition in that series, but they are definitely trying their best).

It’s sworn enemies trying to kill each other but also in love with each other but also denying their feelings and also hurting each other but also not letting anyone else hurt them???? It’s prime foe-yay material, and CLAMP knew how to hit all my buttons for this one.

juu, technically Seishirou never confessed his love to Subaru!

Look, he said “I......you,” and this manga was written in the 90′s so this is as close to a love confession as we were going to get back then. And besides, it was established up front that the Sakurazukamori is only ever killed by the one that they are in love with, so him getting Subaru to kill him was possibly the romantic gesture he could think of. (Yes, Seshirou has many MANY problems).

juu, did you like them in Tsubasa?

Okay, I’m going to be real here, I’m not a big fan of Tsubasa for two main reasons: the art has become less ornate and more noodly, and also even CLAMP themselves aren’t sure what happened in Tsubasa, so I definitely don’t know. The idea of Subaru and Kamui as vampire twins and Fuuma and Seishirou as interdimensional travelers hunting them is interesting, but it didn’t get explored all that much. Also, everyone looked the same in Tsubasa.

juu, what about the other X pairings?

I do also love Sorata/Arashi and Fuuma/Kamui in X! But Subaru/Seishirou hit all my foe-yay buttons more, so I decided to make the post mostly about them instead! :DDDD Also, personally Sorata/Arashi was a lot cuter in the few times we see them in Tsubasa (since you know, they’re not busy fighting for their lives), and as tragic as Kamui and Fuuma are, Fuuma has essentially been brainwashed! I hope he can return to his normal state at some point again (if CLAMP ever finishes X....)

juu, what do you think of Subaru/Kamui or Fuuma/Seishirou?

Probably would be healthier for all parties involved if it went that way instead, honestly. Of course, given that it’s CLAMP, and these are the fated pairs, it definitely won’t.

juu, do you think CLAMP will ever finish X?

God, I sure hope so, I’d love to see what ending they had planned. Of course, if they picked it up now again after so long, the art style would be really different....and given their writing for Tsubasa and XXXholic, who knows how they would decide to end the series now... In the meantime though, there’s always fic!

Thanks for joining me on this little ramble through a very old and messed up CLAMP pairing, and I hope you enjoyed reading about this!

#ship meme #subaru/seishirou #x/1999 #tokyo babylon #sumeragi subaru #sakurazaku seishirou

21 notes · View notes

fandom-collective-writers · 4 years

Text

a two player game | obey me | leviathan

“And what are you doing with this game~?”

It’s an innocent enough question until Leviathan tips his head back to glance at the game in question.

“How did you sneak hentai into the House of Lamentation? I would have expected Lucifer to have some anti-porn devil dog to confiscate these types of things.” Your fingers are perfectly curled over the main character’s lewd expression as she’s ravaged by… tentacles.

“Uh–”

You smile slyly and drape your arms over his shoulders as the blush settles across his cheeks.

“I got it as part of a promotion. People pay me to review games, y’know.” It’s the best excuse he can give really, but he is at fault for not hiding it better. “Now give it here so I can put it inside of my desk. If Mammon finds this, I’ll hear about it for the next century.” Leviathan paws at the box, but you hold it just out of reach.

“You haven’t opened it.” “It’s a two player game.” “You plus me equals two.”

Leviathan laughs a bit and scratches the back of his neck. “Very perceptive. You don’t even know what the game is about.”

“Play as Haru or control the tentacle monster that has her locked up in its underwater dungeon. Win the game by resisting the orgasms or by bringing the second player to their knees,” you read from the back of the case. “Sounds easy enough. Wouldn’t it be funny if you were getting pegged by tentacles though, and I was the one to control them?”

Levi finally manages to swipe the game from your hand and sets it down on a stack of papers. “You’re into that? I think we skipped over that in last week’s kink-meeting.” The demon laughs at his own joke. (There had not, in fact, been a kink meet between the two of you, but it makes you giggle as well.)

“You never asked! I’d be down to try it with you.”

His nose brushes against yours gently and his hand finds yours. As Levi’s fingers lace with yours, you reach for the box with your opposite hand, click it open, ignore the surprised hey! and hold on tight so that the game absorbs the two of you.

Maybe you jinxed it when you teased Levi about getting pegged, because now you’re the one bound and half suspended in the air. When you try to move your wrist, the kelp-like ties around your wrist only grow tighter. “Kinky,” you mutter under your breath.

There’s a loud crashing sound outside of your cell, but it is quickly followed by Levi’s familiar voice. He looks damn good as a merperson: dark purple hair floats just above his shoulders, an iridescent tail, and of course (likely the best scene of them all) his more-than-usual pronounced abdominal muscles flecked with purple scales.

“Finally! I found you– I’ve been going through this maze for ages, just looking for you.”

“Did you miss the sign that says ‘human sex prisoner here’? Maybe turn the neon lights on.”

This earns a laugh from Leviathan before he leans against a pillar. “You look good,” he comments, checking you out in the same manner you had. When your face turns into a quizzical frown, Levi fetches one of the mirrors on the other side of the room. Upon holding it up, you realize he’s not entirely wrong. You are sporting a half ripped bikini top (calling it meager would be generous) and a sheer skirt that hangs from your hips.

“Are we underwater?”

“Technically, yes– at least according to the game we’re meant to be. Don’t question things too much, this game is still in its beta stages.” He pushes his bangs back and fusses with one of his gold rings.

“Oh, I see.” You continue to hang in place. “...What now?”

Leviathan lifts a hand. “Well… you read the instructions. Either you cum and I win, or you hold out and win.”

It takes a moment before you hear similar crashing noises. Swallowing hard, you turn your head back and see shadows darting around in the shadows. Finally, they emerge into the light: tentacles. They’re not attached to anything in particular. In fact, you can’t tell where they have come from, but your attention is quickly pulled back towards Levi.

He grasps your chin with one hand and smiles almost devilishly. “Y’know, I was going to be nice, but you were so cocky that I think I’ll just edge you and make you cum.” Levi has the ability to control these tentacles, and suddenly, you’re being held in place by said appendages rather than the kelp bindings.

“So, what, you’re going to take meme with your fancy new toys?”

One of the limbs climbs up your right leg, pulling your thighs apart. It doesn’t feel sticky in particular, but you can’t help but yelp at the sharp sensation of cold air hitting your now semi-exposed cunt. You yelp meekly and try to keep your legs closed, but there is no way you can overpower the tentacles.

Levi makes his way over to you and brushes his fingers over your collarbone. “Hm.. I think I will. This will be entertaining, no?” He lowers his head slightly to press a kiss to your lips. “Tell me if it hurts, alright? There might be some glitches because of the game.”

You’re not entirely sure how he’s controlling the tentacles, but before you can manage a response, one begins to prod at your entrance. It’s cold and sticky, but makes you moan nonetheless. “Levi!”

“What, did you orgasm just from that? I’m only testing things out.”

“Get on with it–”

“Oh? Gladly..” Levi covers your eyes with his hand and keeps the other at your jaw. Driven by a seemingly animalistic urge, he presses his hips against yours while stealing wet kisses from your lips. The tentacle moves in sync with Levi’s motions: every body roll translates to a languid stroke from the extra appendage. When he captures your nipple with two fingers, a suction cup finds your clit and pulls at it teasingly.

It’s a plethora of sensations, all at once, and is almost overwhelming. You’re being ravaged by Leviathan and his tentacles at the same time, but the worst part is that you can’t even see his beautiful expression as he wrecks you. How could anyone last in a game like this?

Saliva dribbles from your swollen lips and you open your mouth to say something, call his name– anything to warn him that your underwater tryst might come to an end faster than you could have anticipated.

A pathetic moan rolls off your tongue, but it’s cut short when something smacks your ass. Another tentacle?! How many are there?!

Not that you could count them, even if you wanted to, because Levi keeps his hand firmly over your eyes. It’s torture at this point, feeling every little thing and listening to the intense lewd sounds, but not being able to see them.

“Levi,” you whine with desperation. “I can’t see– I want to see you.”

“Eh?” He moves his hand back, and you nearly squeal with delight at his expression. Leviathan is blushing more than usual, as if he’s feeling pleasure from what the tentacles are doing to you. “Better? Does it hurt?”

You shake your head. “You’re so cute…”

“Cute?” Levi huffs. “I’m fucking you with tentacles made of pixels and you call me cute?” Now he laughs a bit and a few suction cups stick to your ass, pulling your cheeks apart. “I can’t do you anally though, that’s Level 2.”

Now you’re the one laughing, tears prickling in the corners of your eyes. “Are you serious?”

“Yes, I actually am. No matter who wins, with each level increase, more toys and positions are unlocked. That’s kind of smart actually.”

“But Levi, don’t you want to put your tentacle in my ass?”

This makes him shiver, and you know what the answer is. Regardless, it seems like any attempts to make the tip of the tentacle get closer to your second hole, nothing happens. With a pensive sigh, your hips meet the side of his tail so that you’re grinding on both Levi and the tentacle simultaneously. “This will have to do.”

Up until this moment, the tentacles hadn’t actually entered you, but instead danced around your hole and focused on your clit. However, your momentary leap of authority gives him a figuratively boner, since he doesn’t technically have a visible dick. It might be in his tail somewhere… but you aren’t about to ask where he’s hiding his cock. That would be weird.

“Hey Levi?”

He grunts back in response, obviously focused on other things.

“Do you think you can penetrate me? I’m sure you’ll win if you do–”

“It’s not as easy as you think– I have to give each thing something to do or my stats drop.” “You have stats?!” You lean back slightly and eye Leviathan.

“Yeah, just flex your palm.” You give Levi a flat stare. “It’s kind of difficult to do that when my wrists are bound.”

The tentacle holding your right hand releases slightly, giving you enough room to do as he’s suggested. A small screen appears in front of you. “Moaning level 2, cockwarming level 1– wait I can change the size of my breasts?!”

Levi pauses for a moment long enough to look at the small screen. “Oh, yeah, I had dick options too, but I didn’t mess with them yet.”

This makes you blink a few times in astonishment, thinking that this game is far more complicated than the first one you played. You want to look through the menu more and see what other things you can do– your mind drifts to the actual purpose of the game. Could there be a power up that would help you resist the tentacles?

Before you can continue scrolling, the slick sound of something penetrating you fills your ears. He’s done what you’ve asked him to, and is absolutely merciless about it. Now that Levi’s found a way to fuck you hard, he’s not going to let up any time soon. In fact, chances are that he won’t stop until the Congratulations, you’ve made your bitch cum screen pops up over his head, if that’s even how the game works.

A string of curses fly off your tongue, meant to be praises than anything else, but you don’t hear your own voice. “Why don’t it let me say ----?!” you screech, dragging your fingernails across Levi’s bare shoulders. “I just wanna moan for you, Levi–”

“Curse words are censored, but that’s stupid, I don’t know why. Is it possible you changed the settings?”

You’re frustrated now because, now you’ve finally accepted that you’re his and the stupid game won’t let you call out for him. It’s not a problem for very long though, because the next thing you know, he’s kissing you. A burning sensation ignites your entire body now, and your mind can’t anchor a single coherent thought for more than a few moments at a time.

The strangest thing: it actually feels like he’s the one fucking you. Not the tentacles, but rather, it feels the same as if Leviathan were fucking you in his bed. This makes you happy, so happy that saliva begins to dribble down your chin as the inevitable pressure of an orgasm starts to fill your lower abdomen. You arch your back in such a way that the bikini straps give away, releasing your breasts from the fabric.

Next thing you know, you’re subconsciously grinding against the biggest tentacle– the one fucking your mercilessly– in search for more delicious friction for your clit. At this point, it doesn’t matter who wins or loses, you just really want to cum and see if those tentacle things of his will splurt out some cum.

“Levi–”

“Hm?” His lips dance over the crook of your neck, and the last thing you need now is for him to suddenly decide to be all daddy-merman. You bet anything that his tongue is wetter than your pussy is right now, and the way his teeth graze over your skin–

And then you’re cumming.

Something breaks inside of you, and then it feels as though you’re drowning but breathing at the same time. Is it part of the game? Is this what a simulated orgasm feels like? Your body pulsates like never before and you understand the appeal of sex games. Another moment passes and your mind goes blank, but only for a second because you feel the budding warmth of seed running down your legs.

So the tentacles can cum.

You manage to find the minimal strength it takes to just open your eyes, and you’re met with Leviathan’s beautiful expression as he crashes down from his high as well. He freezes for a split second, almost as if the game is glitching or overloading from the sheer impact of both orgasms taking place. You pray that he remains like this for just a bit longer, giving you the chance to lean your head against his chest.

Levi’s skin is soft, but covered with a thin, inexplicable film of perspiration. If anything, it just makes you giddy again, but you’re not sure that either of you could last for Level 2 in this sorry condition. Running your tongue over his pronounced clavicle, you nip the skin there and suck on it just as he buffers for a moment and releases a painfully loud moan.

His heart thunders loudly, echoing in your ears. It’s the only thing you can hear until his hand lands on your cheek. “Are you okay?” Leviathan’s voice grounds you, and then you realize that the tentacles are no longer in sight, but have retreated into the shadows the first emerged from.

“Yeah… but I think you froze for a second there– we should do it again, y’know, to make sure we can review the game correctly.”

This makes him laugh. The beautiful sound prompts a giggle from you as well, so you throw your arms around his neck for a tight hug. It doesn’t really matter that your skirt has magically disappeared, you’re pleased with the experience.

A screen flashes in front of the two of you, but you’re actually surprised to see the congratulations message.

“We both lost?!”

“How? I made you cum.”

You read the small print: “Haru successfully made the sea monster cum first, but unfortunately succumbed to the tentacles.” With a huff, you scroll through and read the extended audit log of your ‘underwater’ sex adventure with Levi. “That’s bull----! Ugh! I still can’t ----ing curse!”

Levi shushes you gently before brushing your hair back and offering you a consolation kiss. He taps the ‘return to main screen’ button, and the two of you are transported back to the real world.

Nothing’s changed since you left: in fact, it’s only been a few minutes, according to the clock on Levi’s nightstand, that you even opened the game in the first place. Before you can say anything, Leviathan closes the box and throws it into the desk drawer. “No more hentai games for you. I need a cold shower and something to eat after that.”

You stretch and massage your wrists. Although there is no physical evidence of the bindings, you can sure as hell feel where his tentacles kept you in place. Disappointed though, your eyes follow the outline of Levi’s body, happy to see that his normal legs have returned… with a third, very aroused, appendage sitting comfortably between the two of them.

“Levi~”

“Yeah?”

“Two things. One, give it a good review, but say that I need to be able to curse when I cum.”

He raises an eyebrow, but then nods. “And the second thing?”

Now, you’re smiling and reaching for the bulge in his pants. “I think you need a second orgasm to take care of this, no? But no game– this one, I’ll give it to you and make sure it’s real.”

Levi just swallows and shoos you away, calling you silly and that he doesn’t have any energy for that because he knows you’ll leave him an absolute mess. You can’t help but laugh at his reaction though, because now he’s both painfully hard and blushing brighter than a virgin on a windy day.

“Hey Levi?”

“What is it now?”

You just smile and wave your hand. “No, it’s nothing like that– I was just thinking, maybe next time we’ll be in reversed positions. Wouldn’t that be fun?”

He contemplates this for a second. “Why, you want to try and win?”

“Well yeah!” “In your dreams, Haru.”

“I was really worried you’d moan the in game character’s name instead of mine. That would have been awkward as hell.”

Levi extends his arm, offering you a place to sit on his lap. “I wouldn’t do that. But let’s keep this between the two of us for now. Okay?”

You nod and nestle against his chest. Regardless of who the game declared, or didn’t, the winner, you like to think that both of you won. At least for a moment.

#obey me!#obey me leviathan #Obey Me Levi #obey me fanfic #obey me smut #leviathan #leviathanobeyme #shall we date #leviathan smut #otome #xreader #leviathan x reader #obey me x reader

1K notes · View notes

itsclydebitches · 3 years

Note

Hey there! Admittedly I'm a little bit nervous since this is my first ask, but I'll try to not be too rambly.

So, recently the main subreddit, r/RWBY, made a ban on active users of the r/RWBYcritics subreddit. As a result there's been discussion around bad-faith criticism in the latter subreddit. What are your takes on bad-faith criticism?

For me personally, I think a bunch of people are misusing the term "bad-faith" and using it as a way to shut down criticism, but I'm curious to hear your thoughts on it.

Hey there, everyone! We woke up to some drama this morning, huh? And hello to you too, Tortoise! I'm so glad you decided to send in an ask, even if it's following some pretty tumultuous events...

Right, I'd like to start with a story. The story of how I personally don't spend time on Reddit, but I have plenty of friends who will occasionally cross-post something for me to see. Yesterday (or the day before? Idk time is meaningless) a friend told me about a post — which, significantly, I'm now having trouble finding — that covers RWBY's inconsistent writing and the fandom's tendency to try and explain away those missteps. They'd thought I'd be interested because I'd just had a conversation here on tumblr where I made that exact point to someone who, also significantly, vehemently disagreed with me, but in a very civil fashion. Given everything going on, I feel like this side point needs emphasis: we debated, we did so in a sometimes heated, but nevertheless respectful manner, it was clear neither of us was going to sway the other, and the conversation ended. The two "sides" of the community interacted without Armageddon coming about.

But back to the purpose of this tale. I went to take a look at this point and found that it no longer exists. There's just some vague message about it not obeying the subreddit's rules. "What happened?" I asked. "Why'd they take the post down?" "People were getting too heated in the comments," my friend replies. So, given that the comments were still visible, I proceeded to read through them, expecting personal attacks, slurs, harassment, etc. Any number of things that would justify deleting the post itself to put an end to such behavior. Instead, I found a thread of people having a conversation. Was the conversation heated at times? Sure. Did one or two individual posters edge into the realm of petulant, "No. You're wrong and stupid" responses? Yes. Was any of this remotely what I was expecting given the post's removal? NOPE.

"This isn't allowed?" I said. "Well then what is? People were being civil! Or at least as civil as hundreds of strangers ever get when discussing a series they're passionate about online."

Then, this morning, I hear that the entire critic subreddit has been banned.

So to answer your question, Tortoise, I don't actually think that "good faith" criticism exists. Meaning, it's not just that fans are misusing the term "bad faith criticism," but rather that there is no unified, agreed up method of writing criticism that will meet their standards. It's not possible and we know it's not possible because fans have been trying to meet those elusive standards for years:

A fan posts nothing but praise for RWBY until changes make them criticize the show as it is now. Their entire body of work is dismissed as the product of a "hater," despite the overwhelming gap between positive and negative reviews.

A fan posts a review that's a pretty balanced mix between praise and criticism. They're dismissed because it's still too much criticism.

A fan posts a review that's 99% praise with 1% criticism. That's still too much, with fans focusing on the single problem they had with the work and using it as an excuse to dismiss the entire review out of hand.

(As an aside, the argument that critics are "obsessed" with only saying negative things and that the only problem here is that they're "too" negative ignores the argument that... RWBY has a lot of flaws nowadays. Few are willing to acknowledge the possibility that it's not fans insisting on making things up to be mad about/ignoring the good parts of the show, it's the that show is, as of now, legitimately more of a mess than it is a praise-worthy product. If I'd been writing recaps in the Volumes 1-4 days, my work would have been skewed far more towards the positive. The critics' stance is that RWBY has gotten worse, which yes, results a higher volume of critical posts. To say nothing of how criticism takes far longer to explain, likewise resulting in posts focused primarily on that side of the divide. I really enjoyed the image of a crying Jaune reflected in his sword. I did not enjoy that moment's context. Saying that you liked an animation choice is a one sentence thing. Explaining the complexities of Jaune securing emotional moments, the problems with Penny's second death, the hurt many fans experienced watching an assisted suicide, etc. takes a whooole lot longer. Hence, you get massive, multiple posts about these nuanced topics and fewer, smaller posts about the details that are working well.)

A fan talks about a topic that has been metaphorically banned by the fandom as a whole. They have something good to say about Ironwood. They dislike something about Blake/Yang. They enjoyed Adam as a character. They have a problem with Ruby's leadership, etc. There's a whole list of topics nowadays that will result in an automatic dismissal, regardless of the point the fan is trying to make or how well they make it.

A fan talks about the minority representation of RWBY — its black characters, its queer characters, its disabled characters, etc. — and as a result has something to say about the biases and missteps of those writing these characters. This is considered an attack on the writers and, therefore, automatically bad.

A fan talks about how they enjoyed RWBY as it was years ago and is having trouble reconciling the dark, complicated story with the simple, hopeful one we started out with. This is seen as an attack on Monty's vision and an unwillingness to accept that "everything is planned."

A fan does as asked and ensures that their post is meeting all the requirements of "real" criticism. They have an argument to make. They have a point. They provide evidence. They recommend a solution. They keep their tone respectful. They don't attack the creators. They provide disclaimers in every single paragraph about how they do not hate RWBY. It doesn't matter. They're considered too negative.

I have, quite literally, seen every one of the above examples on multiple occasions. I have had many of the above accusations leveled at my own work. When fans say that they're fine with criticism provided it's not "bad faith" criticism, they don't actually have a specific post-type in mind; a checklist of behaviors another fan can emulate and, provided they do that, no hate will come their way. Or, if an individual fan does actually go, "Yeah. That criticism I'm fine with" that response is in no way universal. One person's "They make a good, civil point" is another person's, "Omg stop bashing the show!" Because "bashing" has come to mean everything from curse-laden insults towards everything RWBY has ever done, to posts that just happen to say something other fans don't agree with.

It's a rigged game. There is no way to post criticism about RWBY in an agreed-upon, appropriate manner. This recent ban is proof of that. I think it's incredibly telling that almost immediately after I was going, "Wow. A pretty calm debate about the flaws of RWBY in the main sub. That's great to see," all posters from the criticism subreddit were banned. The main sub literally just had the sort of criticism that they claim to accept — people respectfully posting analysis-based arguments resulting in calm debate — and yet they implemented the ban anyway. I'm not going to pretend that I've never gotten too heated on my own posts, never made snarky comments when I'm frustrated, never used exaggerated reaction GIFs that can come across as insulting... but I'd say on the whole my RWBY work is precisely the sort of "good faith" criticism that other fans are supposedly looking for. I never make an argument I don't think I can back up with evidence. I try to allow for the nuance and differing opinions of complicated topics. I try — even if I don't always succeed — to write in a clear, respectful manner. Yet none of that work has stopped people from telling me I'm a "bitter... raging asshole," a "deranged, delusional psychopath," telling me to set myself on fire, threatening to smash my head in, or just messages to straight up kill myself. If someone like me who legitimately works hard to create fair, defendable criticism and who only ever posts on a personal blog that people can easily block, who never engages in debate until someone else starts it first, never seeks out other fans I disagree with to harass them about what they like... if someone like me is still a "bad faith" critic who "deserves" that kind of hate mail... then what kind of criticism do people want?

Nothing. That's the answer. No criticism whatsoever, of any kind, no matter if it's delivered respectfully, is making a good point, whatever. That's why "RWDE" was created. That's why the critic subreddit was created. The community at large has demanded a complete separation between Praise and Anything That's Not 100% Praise, which has now resulted in this ban. Any other explanations we see are excuses, which becomes glaringly obvious when you look at the mods' supposed reasons for implementing the ban:

"Constant arguments with r/RWBY users" - As opposed to the arguments surrounding things like shipping that never, ever happen?

"Vote manipulation and comment brigades" - The subreddit with 3,000 participants, with around 200 on at a time, is manipulating the votes of a subreddit with 155,000 participants, with over 1,000 on at a time? Those numbers just do not check out. If a positive post is downvoted, or a critical post upvoted, maybe that's because large swaths of the community actually agree/disagree with that assessment, not because the incredibly smaller group is somehow manipulating things.

"Attacking and harassing those they disagree with" — Again, as opposed to those non-critics that never, ever harass people? This is an individual problem, not a community problem. Both critics and non-critics have their sub-groups acting in ways they shouldn't. If anything, the main sub will have more individuals harassing other fans, simply by virtue of being so much larger. As the above examples attest, it's not other critics who have told me to light myself on fire and, just to be clear, the asks I've responded to are a miniscule number compared to the amount I've received. I delete the lion's share for my own sanity and to save my followers from reading the really graphic threats.

"Months-long NSFL spam brigades" — I am, admittedly, not sure what this is referring to. Spamming of NSFW content? If so, that's also an individual problem.

"Homophobic, transphobic, and racist attacks towards our users" — See the above points. Again. If someone is being homophobic, transphobic, or racist, then yes please, ban them. Don't ban an entire community for the actions of a few. It's like walking into a store and banning a customer for causing a scene... but then also banning everyone else who happened to be shopping at the same time. It's guilt by association.

The silver lining to all this? The community as a whole isn't pleased. At least according to the main subreddit comments and a few individual voices like MurderofBirds. Despite the increase (from my perspective anyway) of critical voices post-Volume 8, criticism of RWBY is still very much seen as taboo. As this ban showcases. But it's really reassuring to see so many fans, critics and non-critics alike, going, "This was a mistake." A community is meant to include all aspects of engagement: praise, criticism, and the gray area between. If anything, fans like the mods of the main subreddit should be creating a separate subreddit that is specifically for praise. In the same way that there should have been a tag for RWBY praise, rather than trying to eliminate any and all criticism from the main "RWBY" tag. The majority of fans, even those who claim to hate critics and all they (presumably) stand for, recognize that a blanket ban of all criticism is not the way to go, especially when "criticism" has come to have such a staggeringly broad definition. If you want your RWBY experience to be nothing but sunshine and roses (ha), then cultivate your own internet experience to reflect that. Create your own pockets with rules about how this is the space for praise and if you're not up for praising RWBY right now, don't interact with us in this particular space. Don't try to make the entire community — the main tools used to discuss the show online — conform to your preferences. As established, there is no "good" criticism that everyone in the fandom will accept, which just leaves a fandom with no criticism at all. I'm glad to see I'm far from the only one who, when presented with that extreme, is going, "Nope. No thank you."

#rwby #mymetas #suicide tw #rwde

49 notes · View notes

ak8shi · 4 years

Text

FWB HQ Boys: In which you beat the player at his own game!

warnings: Time skip spoilers, mentions of sex(all characters are 18+), stupid people in love

a/n: I love one(1) libra man!! I love Atsumu’s character and the way he’s developed in hq and I think that this is a very probable way in which he finds love !! thank you all so much for loving the first installment so much <3 I-I went a little overboard with this one but ,, xoxo Chlo

━Miya Atsumu

Let’s start with a little background; I think we can all agree Atsumu is and always has been popular with the ladies

…But that doesn’t necessarily mean the ladies are popular with him LMAO

He’s truly the emotionally unavailable heartbreaker and he built himself quite a reputation without even knowing it

This dude doesn’t even really fuck around with girls, maybe a few meaningless flings his senior year but besides that, he only has eyes for one lady and her name begins with the letter V and ends with ball

LET’S GO

So you’ve known Atsumu for years unfortunately,,, and you surely know about how he treats the girls that approach him with confessions and boxes of chocolates

You don’t approve of it at all, but your family is practically family with the Miya’s and you’ve literally spent every major holiday with them since you can remember

You: Atsumu would it kill you to show some respect towards these women

Atsumu: If she breathes, she’s a thot

….smh… a fucking mess someone please put him in his place

However your mom was always happy that you could be around the twins since you were an only child, and she loved the idea of you having two brothers who would protect you from the evils of college men little did she know,,

You hate to admit it and we hate to see it, but you started to develop a crush on him your freshman year of high school.. you suppose it was because you spent so much time with him and you saw parts of him that a lot of people didn’t get to see I mean you also saw him with his jersey on and off pretty often how could you resist

For example, every Halloween you had a sleep-over tradition where you watched horror films after trick-or-treating and Atsumu was scared SHITLESS every year, I’m talking ripping your favorite blanket off you and burying his face in it to block out the movie, he would threaten you and Osamu about telling people at school about it

Him, a 17 year old teen standing in your doorway at 3:40 am: c-can I sleep on yer floor I LOVE HIM SKAKAKAJSW

You, filming him and sending it to Suna on snap: sure Atsumu <3

You found yourself entranced when he automatically gave you his school cardigan on the walks home from school when it was cold or raining, and completely enraptured by his cute little accent

Atsumu: did ya know yer a fuckin’ idiot bimbo stupid butt crack for not bringin’ yer jacket

Atsumu: yer lucky I’m a gentleman

You: ...

Osamu: god…..

It was naïve to think he would ever reciprocate feelings especially with his entire life being his volleyball career, and you convinced yourself it was a tiny high school crush and eventually you managed to repress it

Too much was on the line; you didn’t want to make both of your families awkward, and you needed to focus on your studies as one of the top students at Inarizaki yes ma’am

Besides you loved him like family right ???

RIGHT ???

The twins are a year older than you, and Atsumu had just signed to play professionally for MSBY!!

You at his official signing: wow, looks like you don’t have to resort to living on the streets after all

Him: yeah ❤️

You kind of forgot about how you felt about him since you weren’t seeing either of the twins consistently anymore with how busy both of you were; you stayed in contact, but nothing really serious

It was weird because you were still in high school while the boys were experiencing college and doing their own thing… you drifted apart honestly and you felt a bit awkward talking to them sometimes, you felt like you were bothering them Atsumu would probably tease you and say that you were

Another year passed and you were heading to college! You are living your best life, meeting new people, and then you got the text from your mom that you were doing Thanksgiving with the Miya’s,, you weren’t sure if that meant you would be seeing both twins but something about the possibility of seeing Atsumu again made something stir in your chest

Fall break hit and you found out both the twins and you were back at home since Atsumu also had a rare break from training and his regular professional season

You were helping Osamu out at his shop, since it was his first time dealing with the overflow of Thanksgiving season as a new business owner

You’re helping close the shop, when you hear the door jingle; you turn to say a polite “sorry we’re closed for the day,” but you’re met with what seems like a new and improved and muscular Atsumu OH NO

He looks amazing and so much older than you remember??? And he’s thinking the same thing about you!!! Like wow she’s changed a lot since she started college, I’ve missed a lot apparently ??

You immediately fall into his arms, inhaling his familiar scent, Osamu rolling his eyes at the two of you and telling you to get lost before he yaks

You leave the shop with Atsumu, inviting him to your house; as you enter, you catch your mom leaving to pick up some last-minute groceries for the Thanksgiving meal

She’s acts way happier to see Atsumu than she acted when you came home LMAO later she doesn’t shut up about how handsome and manly he’s become, but you just pull him away to your room and lock your door behind you

He goes to sit on your flower-patterned comforter from your childhood, newly washed thanks to your mother

Atsumu: so…. what’s up with you..?

You can’t control the churning of your stomach all of a sudden; you can’t remember him ever looking at you this way, like he’s looking at a woman

The feelings come rushing back, and literally all you can think about is kissing him

You lean back on your dresser in front of the bed, and a wave of need to express yourself washes over you,

“Atsumu, I missed you.”

You don’t even know what’s happening until you’re trapped in between Atsumu and the door, his mouth gently pressed against yours, his warm hands caressing your hips

He asks if this is okay, and all you can do is moan back a yes in response

Let’s just say your mom might need to clean your comforter again lmaoo

It’s complicated and you’re both kinda confused after… like no one admitted that they had feelings for the other and its not like either of you can just disappear from the other’s life like a random hook-up

BUT BOTH OF YOU ARE TOO STUPID AND STUBBORN TO REALIZE YOU LIKE EACH OTHER AND WANT A RELATIONSHIP I-

Like he’s literally cuddling you and kissing you and asking you about college in your childhood bedroom naked what

And it ISN’T uncomfortable at all

It feels so right to be in his arms, and you’re in disbelief about what happened??? What even like how have you gone all this time without doing anything honestly

You suddenly hear your dad pull into the garage, and you’re both up and putting your clothes on as fast as possible

It’s embarrassing when you look back on it, how long the hook-ups went on, but this was a common occurrence whenever the two of you were home

It was basically like you were dating and doing long-distance without the label

IT WENT ON FOR ALMOST A YEAR 🤡

Osamu during next year’s Thanksgiving meal: I think we should go around the table and say what we’re thankful for, I’ll go first. I’m thankful that two people at this table are getting laid despite the fact that I’m not 😊

Your parents:

Atsumu, in many ways, is oblivious to what his feelings mean after not really being in any real relationships and blocking out all the girls during high school,

He would find himself texting you after each of his matches, hoping you had watched him and his heart would flutter when you complimented him on his sets

Atsumu on the phone with you: yeah I’m just chillin’ with the boys rn 😏

Sakusa: get the fuck off my bed and get off the phone with your girlfriend so I can sleep

Atsumu: she’s not my girlfr-

Sakusa, talking loud enough for you to hear: I literally don’t care but don’t you have her picture saved as your lockscreen?

He tried to hook-up with someone when he was away playing a tournament in the summer, but it wasn’t the same and it was only good if he imagined it was you

He never did it again and before coming home for Christmas, he called Osamu to finally ask him what to do

Osamu: about time you meathead

Osamu literally spells it out to this man; he has been and is in love with you and he needs to do something about it asap before someone else snatched you away

Atsumu: why didn’t ya just say somethin’ ? Ya know I’m not good at these typa things !

I can’t he’s something else

So it’s Christmas, and he asks if you would want to go see the town square’s Christmas lights with him

Of course you say yes, you’re just really excited to finally see him after so long !!

Atsumu with rosy cheeks ugh spare me

He picks you up and greets you with a kiss to your temple, and he has a little gift baggie with him; he hands it to you to open and you pull out his old school cardigan

“I-I thought maybe you would want it since ya always stole it from me in high school, and since I’m half-way ‘round the world most of the time”

It smells just like him, you thank him with a kiss to his cheek and you tuck it away in your bedroom before leaving hand-in hand to see the colorful lights dazzling in the night sky

You talked to Osamu about your relationship with his brother and you want Atsumu to make a move honestly; you want to be sure he wants this since you’ve literally liked him since high school

You’re not sure what you are expecting, but when Atsumu has you in his arms, your back against his chest and his chin on your shoulder as you watch the Christmas carolers, you don’t expect him to whisper into your ear,

“hey, will ya be my girl?”

You turn around to give him a surprised look, his hand bringing yours to his mouth to plant a soft kiss on your knuckles this is his favorite place to kiss fight me

After getting over your dream-like shock, you say yes and pull him into a kiss

I’m crying he tells you afterwards that you were his girl since the first time he met you, we’ll let him have this one because did he really know until like a week ago? no

Whew, all of your friends and family let out a relieved sigh when they hear the news LMAO

Suna, hearing about Atsumu finally making it official: thank god I was about to start blackmailing him with those Halloween videos

#did writing this make me fall in love with him?maybe so #haikyuu!!#atsumu #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu #atsumu headcanons #atsumu scenarios #atsumu x reader #atsumu fluff #atsumu imagines #hq #hq fluff #hq scenarios #hq headcannon #hq drabble #hq x reader #haikyu x reader #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu headcannons

956 notes · View notes

dreaminae · 3 years

Text

We All Need The One Friend

Chapter 15

Sure, distance makes the heart grow fonder, but it also drives the brain aloof. Or so, that was Liv's take on her current situation. Almost four weeks went by since the big family dinner blowout where Billy and Jordan learned of Liv's drinking. Four weeks since her father's overwhelming disappointment swallowed Olivia whole with a growing fear of being sent away for help once more. Four weeks since her fear led to Liv, running away for help from the one person who she hadn't been in contact with for months -- her sponsor. And four weeks since Liv was giving a large wake-up call when she found her former sponsor behind bars for attempting to steal from her very own parents.

That night Olivia saw what could be her possible future if she didn't receive proper treatment while she still had the chance. Despite her fear of being sent away, she returned home after hours of dodging calls and texts from her loved ones. She walked into her home ready to accept the help, no matter the consequences. And perhaps that why fate played into her hands.

Fore when Olivia returned home, she found both her parents welcomed her with open arms, simply content that she was alright. Following the long night, Liv was surprised to find her family already with a suitable compromise. Instead of shipping her away, Billy and Laura decided upon an intensive program that allowed Liv to remain at home while she recovered.

Later into that evening, Spencer dropped by for what they both knew would be their last moment together for a long term. Acknowledging that they both had things to work on, they agreed to delay their romance until they were both in a good place to be together for real. They weren't breaking up or taking back the feelings they once declared. No, they were -- as Liv put it that night -- 'playing the long game'. Sealing their goodbye with a heartfelt kiss, they parted ways.

Focused on her recovery, Olivia found a new sponsor and confidant in Nurse Joy. Admitting her dependency upon Alcohol, and accepting responsibility for falling off the wagon, Olivia began her road to recovery. Meanwhile, Spencer centered his time on football and plotting his plan to bring Crenshaw a state championship.

Ignoring their constant desire to be together they cut off all physical communication, choosing to stick to the everyday messages to check in on one another. It wasn't until the night of Jordan's second concussion they were able to be in each other's arms.

Utilizing each other as helping shoulder through damaging announcement of Jordan's future in football, they found comfort in their buried affections. Having each other's back when Simone dropped the marriage reveal, Spencer and Liv supported each other when confronted by Billy and Laura.

The secret marriage only adding to Liv's troubled life as Laura grounded her into the next century for her deceit. Life toppled their trivial matter with the death of Tamika, shaking Olivia's inner social justice warrior to its full-frontal.

From leaking footage of Tamika's wrongful death to protesting for the indictment of the guilty officers, Liv found something bigger to be a part of. Her best intentions leading to backfire as Laura took the heat of alleged bigoted D.A. Learning to accept her mistakes, Liv tried to make the best of a complicated issue.

She and Kia's devotion to cause, sparking Spencer to follow suit, persuading his team to take a knee during their most important game. Inspiring by the Crenshaw team their opponents took a knee in protest. As a result of more football teams following Crenshaw's players in taking a knee, Crenshaw was granted another shot at the state championship.

Everything seemed to play into Liv and Spencer's hands, except the main thing they both desired since summer. It was all in a matter of timing, and they both couldn't help but anticipate when that moment would finally arrive.

So when they found themselves planning a surprise party in honor of Spencer's mom earning her college degree, the anticipation rose to a new peak.

"So no gouging out my eyes?" Liv playfully joked, allowing herself to make a joke of the foolish comments people were making about her online.

Spencer scoffed as if insulted. "What, those pretty eyes? You crazy." His eyes drifted from the direction of her eyes to her lips.

Olivia smiled softly as he quickly shifted back to their original conversation, unsure if now was the right time for them to share that type of moment. "You gon' help me fix this came or what?" He questioned with a crooked grin.

"Yes," Liv replied with a cheeky grin as she hopped from her seat, wondering how long he'd wait to make a move.

The next hour and a half flew by with them baking the cake while making basic small talk to catch up with one another. They discussed Liv's daily meeting with nurse joy and how her recovery was coming. Liv caught Spencer up on Jordan's everyday hobbies since his time away from football, while Spencer tried his best not to admit to Liv that he was aiding in Jordan's desire to return to football. Their topics switched until they circled back to Spencer's upcoming game against Westlake, and how Olivia punishment lifted just in time for her to come see him play.

"You'll be my personal cheering section." Spencer goofed as he iced the bare cake.

"Of course. I'll be decked in your jersey number and sporting Crenshaw colors all night." Liv giggled, imaging herself ornamented in Spencer James merchandising. "I'll be shouting the loudest. Go, Spencer! Kick some Westlake ass!" She shouted cheerfully, causing Spencer to chuckle.

"And what about I finish kicking Westlake's ass?" He wondered aloud. "Do I get a prize?" He inquired with a lifted brow.

"You'll have won the state championship for Crenshaw and saved your school. What more could I give you?" Liv snickered, sipping her lemonade.

"I can think of a few things." Spencer flirted causing Liv's cheeks to redden as she swallowed her refreshment.

The knocking of the front door interrupted their flustered juncture. "I'm should...um..you know..."

"Don't worry, I will still be here when you get back." He chuckled towards her rattled nature.

He frosted the cake as Liv dealt with a package delivery on behalf of the coach baker. Shortly after leaving the package in the living room, she rrutrned. Her reserved nature now contained after she took a moment to compose herself.

She returned to the kitchen with more pep in her step resolved with knowing that the moment she and Spencer both delayed was finally arriving, and all she had to do was lead it.

Eyeing Spencer with a twinkle in her eye she cheekily leaned over close to his direction, dipping her finger in the canned frosting. "Are you sure you know what you're doing?" She inquired sassily, catching his attention as she strutted a few feet around the counter.

"Girl, you know I got skills." He responded cockily, earning a snicker from Liv as she shut the refrigerator to from putting leftover baking ingredients.

"Hey, I was thinking that we should have that graduation won't playing at my mom's party," Spencer suggested, humming his ideal tune aloud.

Olivia listened to the tune with a puzzled expression. "Umm, that's the wedding song."

Spencer eyed her strangely, confused as to how he got the two melodies muddled.

Giving him a sympathetic grin, Liv rubbed his arm, comforting him. "Hmm, you'll get it." She laughed as Spencer twisted his face in slight embarrassment. "It's okay." She added jokingly.

Rolling his eyes, Spencer gestured down to the finished cake. "Well, what do you think?"

Liv analyzed the frosted cake, impressed by how well it came out. "It's good." She complimented with growing suspicion. "Like really good." She added, smirking at Spencer. "You've done this before, haven't you?"

"Maybe like once for my moms birthday..." He dragged out, sensing that his cover was blown as he smiled crookedly. "And maybe all of Dillion's birthdays." He admitted, redhandedly causing Olivia to laugh.

"Alright, you caught me." Spencer chuckled, then grew serious. "N'all but, I just wanted to get your mind off everything." He confessed wholeheartedly, hating the low amounts of times he witnessed a real smile from Liv over the last few weeks.

"You did," Olivia assured him, touched that Spencer went found the energy to help her through the day's mess, even though she was meant to be helping him today. "You made me feel a lot better." She added, wanting him to know that his intentions were highly effective.

Spencer simply nodded, content to help in any way he could.

Liv smiled thinking back to how their last few hours together reminded her of the summer they spent together. No matter if it dumb shows or extended time at the mall shopping, Spencer remained glue to her hip just to make Liv happy. If he noticed she was having a bad day, he'd make a stupid joke to make her laugh. When she felt alone and needed someone to talk to, Spencer spent hours on the phone with her. When she felt like crumbling, he was always the rock that steadily held her up.

"You've done that before too." Olivia slipped out, letting her affection take over. Her eyes darted to his with a knowing twinkle.

Spencer observed her stature, finding Olivia in control and sure of herself. She beamed gently with a slight tilt of her head as if waiting to see what he would do next. She wanted to know if he still wanted her, and this was her way of conveying her yearning for him. With an assured confirmation that she was ready, Spencer took this as his cue.

Without saying another word he walked towards Liv, ready to give in to their passions. His head tilted in the opposing direction of Liv's as they both leaned in to close the small space between them.

However, right when their lips were about to meet Spencer's phone buzzed. Spencer grunted under his breath, annoyed by the bad timing, but reached for his phone nonetheless. Liv sucked in a tight breath, frustrated by another halted moment.

Remaining with barely an inch separating them, Liv took matters into her own hands. Literally.

"Spence," Liv mumbled, topping the hand that held his phone with the palm of her hand to gain his attention. His phone continued to buzz, as Spencer gave Olivia his awareness. "Yeah."

"It'll still be there afterward." Liv sighed with an unsure smile, gently pulling his phone out of hand. Her finger dragged across the screen, rejecting the call. "But I'm right here. Right now." She remarked, locking eyes with him, lust emitting from her own. "And I don't know about you but I'm tired of waiting." She snickered sassily, earning a smirk from Spencer.

Liv eyes danced from Spencer's brown orbs, falling to his lips, then back to his eyes. Cupping his face, she brought his lips to hers for a kiss that was weeks in the making.

#3x07 #all american #olivia and spencer #olivia baker #spelivia #spencer and olivia #spencer james #All America 3.14

30 notes · View notes

detectivemaker · 2 years

Text

Oc introduction: Lenoir

name: Lenoir tetch crane(Full name) The Mad Hatter(supervillain name inherited from her daddy) my dear Lenore(Edgar's nickname for her)

parents: Jarvis Tech and Jonathan crane (both birth parents)

Likes: hanging out with her family, blackmailing which people, going out on dates with her boyfriend, Edgar, generally being a little prankster

dislikes: people saying bad things about her family, people making fun of her fashion, having to work with birds, hangovers(hangovers really mess with her powers and and if she needs to make someone do something the command gets a bit muddled and sometimes it turns out pretty bad(one time she ordered a pack of rats to attack guy and they ended up killing him)

Physical description: she has blue eyes and either red or blond hair I haven't decided, body-wise in her teenage years she has the body type of her daddy little life games the body of a popstar but not like anorexic Popstar she's got a healthy amount of pudge, in her teenage years her tits were B cups in her adulthood she gains natural D

clothing: she dresses very Gothic, and her days in Gotham High she wore black dresses and put Gothic pins in her hair, this Gothic sensor fashion carried to her pop star days her pop star uniform, the best way to describe her pop star uniform is Melanie Martinez but make all the outfits she wears are black, when she's out doing villainy she has a magical girl transformation into a outfit becomes a Black Mushroom inspired dress and atop her head is a tiny little top hat and she wields a teapot tipped cane that can become any blade weapon she desires, in cane form the teapot on top of it and B gases from sleeping gas to her Papa's fear gas, any gas she wants will admit from the teapot making a hot tea kettle sound when it does

life story: Lenore was born in a small town in South Carolina, with her was also born a twin brother Lewis tetch crane(though on a technicality Leonor is the elder sibling) in addition to her education from school she was also taught by her Papa Jonathan about chemistry in psychology, though her parents intended her to be the new scarecrow she much preferred spending time with her daddy Jarvis learning of electronics and the scientific workings of the Mind, in addition to her abilities taught by her parents she is also a metahuman with the ability to affect Minds, she can do many things to the Mind such as his control actions and make people feel things, her power is manifested on her 10th birthday when she was given plush rabbit by her Godfather Jarvis little(his connection to the family is complicated) watched she was playing in in the front yard too mean kids came up and trucker plush rabbit, while one was holding the weapon above her head the other was taunting the neighbors dog, as she wheeled and weld her abilities affected the dog making it feel anger towards the children which culminated and it's breaking its chain and pouncing on the taunting child malling the boy, the other boy dropped the plush rabbit and went to get his mother, after this she was bullied for the rest for school days in that town in until. Fleshman prom

The Bullying came to a head. She was nominated prom Queen people applauded so hard she couldn't hear the tug of rope and the tip of metal and then she felt wet. she look down and she was covered in blood... Something came over here she went blank face and then suddenly everyone around went mad. Everywhere you could look people with dying by the hands of others or by their own. In this cacophony of death Lenore walked outside one of the limos pulled up the chauffeur pull down the window and he looked upon her eyes blank like the eyes of a deer looking upon a hurdling semi truck, in retaliation of the death of many of the young the parents of the Town stormed the catch train house pulling Jonathan from the house and hanging him by a rope and then they all left leaving Jarvis and his children to look upon their hanging in the family member. 2 days after Jarvis drowns them self in the river leaving the children, a pair of Bailey teenage twins and a late teens daughter, what time the house is on today and then one day the mob comes back takes the twins from their bed and ties them to which poles. As they begin to reside themselves to their fate of being burned and joined the parents in death, a purple sedan pulls into town and the mob stand still and they look upon this man who goes out of the sedan like he is a God, one of the mob members unties the twins and they run to the arms of their uncle. Michael

Uncle Michael bring them to Gotham. Where they spend time in his custody and after a bit of a mishap going sophomore prom well a sexually confused Lewis almost rapes a girl and I have a run-in with Terry McGinnis Batman, they are thrown into the juvenile detention section of Arkham Revenge Ali their bailed out by their uncle and put back into the custody of the parents(technically the godparents but the godparents situation is complicated and I'll try to explain it in another post)Don't worry about the twins relationship it gets mended after another series of Misadventures culminating in Lenore having the best prom ever... And Lewis getting all his bones broken, during her time in Gotham High she gained a bit of a pension for back mailing rich people into giving her money by using her powers to make them like her and then video taping them confessing their love to her, she didn't release them from their love spell and tell them if they don't give her money she will least the footage, they do but she still does she's a bit of a Troublemaker much like her Daddy, later in life he becomes a pop star

Information about her abilities: in addition to her base abilities to affect people's minds if she's put under enough stress ie physical pain, mental pain, or the stress of not being able to orgasm, it focuses on a command she can send out a psychic order that overrides everything in a person's mind to make them do that order be it killing themselves or just straight-up dying, no blood or anything they just straight up stop living

Abilities: from her time being trained by both of her parents she learned many things such as chemistry, psychology, engineering, the usage of bladed weapons and Cane's in combat, she also has minor knowledge of how to dance fight

weaknesses: mind-altering substances can affect her powers in many ways, for example a drug that inhibits her Focus Ken Baker you're nearly incapable of controlling Minds and the amount of control she does have is only enough to give people Miner commands which they can easily disobey, more humorously her sexuality is one of her weaknesses, you say she's bisexual and if fighting against a a hot opponent of any gender and they are showing skin she can be momentarily distracted, though distraction does not last long if an opponent notices her distraction and starts to flirt her focus on her powers can be broken had anyone under her control can be freed if her focus is gone on long enough

#hattercrow #oc #batman

3 notes · View notes

tigerdrop · 3 years

Note

Cringe is dead, talk to me about the funny half-life men and their relationship

okay here is my essay. it is titled These Guys Actually Like Each Other, and Gordon Freeman Is Just Kind Of A Dick*

(disclaimer: these are just my 2 cents. dont take me too seriously! im just some guy online who has watched this shit too many times.)

first things first. these guys actually like each other. this is a key aspect of their relationship. benrey, obviously and textually, digs gordon freeman - you dont flirt that heavily with guys you arent into, and so much of what he says and does is geared around making gordon crack up. thats pretty gay.

but the counterpart to this is that gordon freemans pretty fucking gay for benrey, too. you may say, “oh, but word of god says its not requited!” and to you i will say: bull shit. gordon is uniquely obsessed with benrey compared to all the other characters. if gordon didnt like the fucking guy, he wouldnt giggle with him and share in-jokes with him and bring him up every 5 seconds when benreys not around. thats concern, bro. thats worry. thats real shit

but i cant blame people for thinking that gordon freeman genuinely doesnt like benrey. benreys partially responsible for some of the worst things that have happened to him, the Arm Thing among them. and gordons very insistent afterward that he doesnt like benrey. he even goes so far as to try to kill benrey a couple times. to this, i must argue that gordon freeman is just kind of a dick.

lets talk facts here. canon. Lore. from the moment we hop into gordons shoes, we can see that he is a jerk to every npc on his way into black mesa. this is his default: a dude who just runs his mouth and says rude shit. he calls tommy a freak within 5 minutes of meeting him. he infantilizes the guy and barely considers him a real scientist. he doubts that bubby is a real name for like no fuckin reason. in “real life”, this is because its funny, and wayne is trying to make a funny half-life stream. in a textual sense, this is because gordon “hlvrai” freeman is a dick. this is the way he acts, consistently, throughout the series.

(brief aside: this is why the whole “gordon is a nice guy and a great dad” characterization baffles me. the way he actually acts in canon is, in short, bitchy and lacking in self-awareness. and i love that for him, i really do. it makes the moments where he just tries to be a nice guy stand out. but thats the thing: his intermittent moments of decency and kindness are not the whole of his personality! this dude kind of sucks most of the time!)

the way that gordons general asshole attitude extends to benrey is complicated. in fairness, benrey makes it his job to annoy the shit out of gordon as much as possible, and that warrants a negative attitude, but gordons pretty paranoid and ends up blaming benrey for nearly everything that happens to him, regardless of if its warranted. this is a pattern he exhibits both before and after the Arm Thing. its a little bit of a dick move! especially considering that, prior to the whole “betrayal” subplot (which was not exactly planned very far in advance), benrey is no more malicious or annoying than anybody else gordons having to travel with.

(okay, this is kind of a subjective evaluation, but still. my point stands that benrey is not any more of a hindrance to his progress than anybody else in the science crew, and neither is he particularly more violent or murderous. hell, gordon freeman has probably killed more guys than benrey. benrey just tends to get.......special treatment.)

all that said, i am still convinced that gordon really fucking likes benrey. please consider with me the following: it would be remarkably easy for gordon to just ignore him and do what he has to do, but he doesnt. he could stop engaging. he could stop thinking about benrey. he could stop bringing benrey up to the rest of the crew every time benrey leaves to do his own thing for awhile. but he doesnt. and, again, yeah, the extra-textual reason for this is “two guys are doing an improv comedy thing and bouncing off of scorpy is kind of the point”, but within the text it reads to me as gordon not being about to get the dude off his mind.

and this is in addition to all the times we see gordon being genuinely nice and receptive toward benrey! its in the little things: laughing the hardest and longest at benreys jokes. only ever reciprocating that stupid underwater “BBBBB” thing with benrey. trying to catch benrey when he falls, despite his insistence moments earlier that benrey should hop in the wack ass crystal generator and get hypermurdered. fondly remarking that benreys sweet voice sounds beautiful. his sort of flustered responses to most of benreys overt flirting. none of this is the way normal people react to a guy they hate. this is all fuckin gay to me, man.

its this combination of the outward insistence that gordon hates benrey with his inner eagerness to be around him and think about him and engage with him that gives off strong “repression” vibes, to me. for whatever reason - pride, embarrassment, resentment - gordon maintains a front of hating the guy and wanting to kill him for a lot of the series, but it doesnt gel with the way he fucking giggles and plays along half the time that benrey starts fucking with him. its a game, and that game is one of the only ways gordon knows to manifest affection for him.

(remember “oh my god, hes got a knife!”? that was the gayest shit i ever seen in my life. tittering like a schoolgirl while benrey chases him around like “im gonna get you haha”. insanity.)

the cool thing about repression is that you can have it manifest in a lot of ways! and this is where things like “headcanons” and “my own personal affection for repressed bisexual men” come in. a lot of how i characterize their relationship is an extrapolation of a lot of things like gordons canonical insecurity issues/anxiety, gordons whole anti-bootboy thing screaming “internet wokeboy who means well but probably has a lot of repressed baggage” to me, etc.

how do you get massive amounts of sexual repression out of what you see in canon, you might ask? well. if wayne would stop having gordon talking about being jerked off by the suit, or talking about chugging a 40-gal drum of potion and having to hold his piss, or worrying about being eaten by benrey the moment he sees benrey at setscale 10, maybe i would have a higher opinion of gordon “hlvrai” freeman and whatever latent psychosexual issues hes got going on. but here we are

i havent even touched yet upon how benrey feels about gordon. this one is helpfully made a little more plain by the fact that benrey very much wants to suck his dick in canon. (i dont even have to go into details. we all know.) but IMO the best part about this ship isnt just that they dig each other, but how. benrey gets overtly flirtatious in the second half of the series, but IMO his preferred method of flirting is just fucking with gordon: chasing him with knives, shoving him around in a bathroom, trying to get scans of his feet. but all in like a slapstick, giggly, fun-and-games sense, you know? at least when it works.

a lot of the time, though, it doesnt work out that way. he clearly just likes doing it whether or not gordon responds positively. which is, you know, Weird. not very nice. but also in line with the way everybody else treats gordon freeman. gordons kind of the universes chew toy in any given universe, and the same holds true here. hes kind of helpless......subjected to 4 demons attempting to make his life as difficult as possible. in a way its cathartic.

sorry. i got sidetracked. anyway, benrey very much likes to mess with him and unnerve him and demean him and i will be perfectly frank with you: that is hot. i have problems and illnesses and one of them is that i am a masochist who goes crazy for that kind of thing. calling gordon a “dirty lil boy” and telling him to “look at the mess [he] made” is some straight up kink scene shit.

i like to imagine that a lot of this behavior isnt caused just by the guy who played him wanting to be funny and antagonistic, but by benrey as a character not really understanding what constitutes “pushing a joke too far”. hes not human, and whatever he is doesnt have a very normative way of understanding the world around him, full of people who actually get hurt for real and die for real. benrey expresses what seems to be genuine surprise and distress after the Arm Thing, as if he didnt know that his actions would have serious consequences. and it doesnt seem to fully sink in afterward, either.

it reads a lot to me like hes used to video game rules and treating people around him like NPCs. if they get hurt, its no big deal, because its not real. he likes jamming random buttons on gordons interface and seeing what comes out. its probably a lot of fun for him, the same way that seeing a streamer or a youtuber suffer for our amusement is fun. its like, you know, in my opinion, gordons very cute when hes frazzled. hes also cute when hes laughing. pushing gordons buttons has a 50/50 chance of either of these things. and this is how he ultimately flirts with gordon: by pulling his pigtails.

but at the same time, benrey does legit care about gordon and knows some boundaries. benreys the one most often shooting at enemies to protect gordon, and he spent most of the last act trying to convince gordon to turn around and not fight him because they were friends (best friends, to be specific). he just lacks a lot of the emotional intelligence it would take to express the feeling of “he digs gordon and likes seeing his face get all red and sweaty regardless of the cause”. and gordon lacks the emotional intelligence it would take to express the fact that he doesnt know if he likes or hates benrey and hes scared as hell that its the former

because, lets be real. unironic benrey-liking is a sign of problems disorder. just look at all these words ive written about it.

can you imagine? this bizarrely powerful, non-human entity that can shrug off gunfire and grow to the size of a building has decided that youre his new plaything. benreys the bored guy booting up skyrim and fucking around in the console, and gordons the hapless favorite follower that hes taken a liking to. its a really fun dynamic IMO

after all this, its safe to say my title is a little misleading. the asterisk stands for * and So Is Benrey, Actually. they are both kind of awful dudes who thrive off of teasing each other and they deserve each other. and i am crazy about it. thank u for coming to my TED talk

#asky #careposting

63 notes · View notes